Jaskier snickers when the pants connect with Geralt's face, enjoying the small victory. It serves him right.
"You said I couldn't do that in public! Who's going to hear us around here? The forest creatures? The insects? I'm sure any fawn within earshot won't blush upon learning about your fat prick."
It will pain him to admit it out loud right now but Jaskier appreciates the fact that Geralt takes good care of his clothes and shoes, leaving them in a safe place to dry. Stupid man, always finding ways to be charming. The laugh doesn't help, it's such an odd occurrence, like meeting a unicorn. Something that will never happen to Jaskier outside his dreams because his virtue is long, long gone. Seeing Geralt standing in all his naked full glory, the bard is easily reminded the reason why he can't meet unicorns.
"Show off." It's only muttered under his breath but Jaskier has no doubt Geralt will hear him, he could probably hear him while on a different forest. Damn, but the bastard looks good standing close, with water running down his body and the sunlight catching on the droplets in his hair. Jaskier could compose songs for a year after this gorgeous image alone. His eyes darken as he looks at Geralt, pupils blown with interest, lust spiking and fingers itching to touch. Jaskier knows that he probably looks like a drowned hare in comparison. Lifting his arms, he makes it easier for the Witcher to help him out of the soaked shirt and then raises his eyebrows.
"I suspected you were taking a peek. Pervert." And if that isn't the most ironic statement of the century coming from Jaskier, absurd on many levels, they have seen each other naked plenty of times. But if Geralt is in a mischievous mood then Jaskier is playing hard to get.
The younger man still wants to reach out and run his fingers through the wet, long hair, as he does so often. Geralt is being sweet and flirty and he's not prepared for that kind of assault, it's a combo that shouldn't exist, for his sanity. Jaskier can't even be mad when Geralt mentions his pout because he makes it sounds like an honest compliment and he has no doubts that it is one. And then it's his turn to laugh. "Very tempting. But it's not as satisfying if you let me. Where's the challenge?"
Jaskier smiles and leans back, trying to relax his muscles and letting the water keep him afloat, his body growing weightless. They should have come to the spring sooner instead of sweating on their clothes all morning. Staring at Geralt and fighting the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, Jaskier lifts his right leg towards him, long and paler under the water. His toes slide up and wiggle playfully over Geralt's hip.
"Consider it a reminder, my bard." The possessive use of my might as well be an endearment, more genuine than words that don't really suit Geralt like darling or sweetheart. They've come a far way from when he sharply drew the line at not belonging to each other. He swore that Jaskier would be his only lover as long as they were together, so they did belong together now. And Geralt can be a very possessive person. He snarls in warning at many a person who tries to hit on Jaskier in front of him; he understands why they want him, obviously, he cannot deny his own obsession is well-deserved. But he doesn't like it. Or maybe he does, if it means marking Jaskier later.
He really does like the way Jaskier looks at him. It makes him feel desirable, something Geralt in general does not really see himself. He doesn't preen the way a peacock like Jaskier might, but he does stand a little straighter, showing off his muscles and tall build. Jaskier does not look like a drowned hare, although his hair is a bit floppy after a surprise dip. But he also looks good wet and Geralt wants to lick the water beads off of his skin.
"I like looking at you," he confirms unashamedly about being a pervert. If Jaskier needs reassurance that the witcher wants him, there it is. Geralt probably likes his ass most of all, not only because being inside of it is heaven, but it's very pert and nice to pinch. When Jaskier floats near to him, resting on the surface of the water, he takes Jaskier's foot and tugs him gently closer. He stands to the side so he can simply look his fill down at Jaskier, now a feast in front of him.
He trails a finger down Jaskier's body, not applying any weight so he can keep floating, a single stroke from his clavicle down to the tip of his cock and then away. "The first time you seduced me we were wet." In a bath though, not a spring, and it was steamy for more than one reason. Geralt takes advantage to move his hand under Jaskier and run his fingers over his ass cheeks, squeezing gently. "I told myself to fuck you impersonally from behind and not stay in bed with you after, to keep things clear between us, and failed miserably."
Geralt is amused about that, and apparently feeling like sharing. He shares a little more every time he feels inspired to, something that is new to him. That first time he not only fucked Jaskier once face-to-face, kissing him senseless, but twice, and the second time he let Jaskier ride him in a very personal way. And then he stayed in bed with him, allowing Jaskier to snuggle into his side. "I was impressed you got up the courage to seduce me. I didn't think you would dare." But he should have known better. The bard dares many things. It's acknowledgment he knew Jaskier wanted him though, for far longer than that night, but assumed it would keep quiet.
Jaskier is sure that his heart skips a beat and he almost ends under the water after forgetting to lazily move his arms around to keep himself upright. He catches himself quickly enough but the smile he's trying to keep in check as he looks down at the water instead of looking at Geralt's eyes betrays him. Each couple has their own way to show endearment, it doesn't have to follow the norm, it has to be meaningful for them, and Geralt hit the mark perfectly.
So much has changed in a few months, and while Jaskier has sometimes called Geralt 'my witcher' when they're alone, this is the first time the possessiveness is returned, voiced loud and clear. It makes his chest tighten in the best of ways. Int eh past he has only gotten a similar sensation each time Geralt growled or glared at the townfolk who got a bit too close to the bard during a performance or once the show was over. They clapped him in the shoulder, invited him to a tankard of ale, or made an attempt at flirting. He doesn't pay attention to the later anymore but hell if it doesn't get the best reactions out of Geralt. Jaskier has grown ever more fond of being bitten and pushed against walls to get his whole self devoured by the White Wolf. He ends walking a bit funny the next day but it's worth the sense of pleased satisfaction they both get, claiming and being claimed. Fucking like rabbits in a bathtub count as seducing just fine for Jaskier too but he's amused at Geralt's wording. He considers himself really lucky that they worked things out because on his part that was a long wish fulfilled. Not just to have sex with Geralt but to actually get him to stay in bed with him afterward, as the man pointed out. What a night, that first one.
He likes Geralt. He likes Geralt for who he is and what he does for people who rarely deserve his kindness and time. And Jaskier would like Geralt even if the man were covered from head to toe in scars, in burn marks, if his hair and eyes were a different color or if he lost all his muscles. Geralt would still be Geralt, the person he fell in love with. It's a stupidly romantic thought, as it happens with artists, one that Jaskier doesn't voice but he tries to show with looks and actions.
"I can't stay mad at you when you say things like these, damn it." The bard's musical voice gets a little strained at the end, emotion choking his throat. It's really not fair how easy Geralt words can undo him when he uses them. That coupled with the way the Witcher reaches for him, caresses and squeezes him like he's something precious and attractive, makes it crystal clear to Jaskier that he will care for no other the same way his heart beats for Geralt.
The brunette straightens in the water, pulling his foot way from Geralt to properly move close to him and press their chest against each other, wrapping an arm around the well-defined waist. His hand reaches out for Geralt's and places it back on his right cheek so the Witcher can keep groping at his ass. There, perfect.
"These days you can fuck me personally from behind or any other way you want. I'd call it an improvement." Lifting his chin, Jaskier nuzzles their noses closer, brushes their lips together. "High risk, high reward. If you are expecting me to regret it you'll get old waiting."
His hands slide down the small of Geralt's back, over the perfect perky gloves, and he gives the man's arse a good squeeze. Jaskier's smile is big infectious and shameless. Kiss me, it says.
Trying to resist what built between them was pointless and now he doesn't try. Geralt may not be the most forthright of people, but he warms up day by day. There are some things he won't bend on, like any concept of retirement, but the middle grounds he's agreed to on many other fronts are important. He could just make a claim on the bard as soon as they are in a place together, but Geralt really does prefer to be private. Except that plan gets lost the moment he feels like someone is moving onto his space, and then he doesn't care if everyone knows what's his. His instincts win over his mind. But it's one of the games they both enjoy a great deal.
Geralt does say that Jaskier seduced him because the witcher had no intention of making the first move. But he certainly didn't hold back for long once Jaskier made it clear openly that he was hoping to have sex. As if anyone could really seduce or convince Geralt of anything he didn't want. He also is someone who went a long time without sex and was fine with that; his indulgences were pleasant enough. But something in him had to long for more, if he craved Jaskier, if he craved Yennefer. His sexual appetite was moderate otherwise.
"I know you can't," Geralt responds, smug. The pretty words are sincere, but he knows the smallest gestures from him can go a long way. Jaskier wasn't angry with him in the first place; Geralt briefly saw him angry, once, after the Yennefer incident. That didn't last either. Geralt himself has only been irritated with Jaskier, sometimes strongly irritated at him, because true anger would have seen the bard kicked out of his life in a temper. He is slow to that type of real anger, but when it happens, it is vicious and strikes out at anyone nearby. He's kept that within check.
See, Geralt intentionally didn't tug Jaskier into his arms before this, allowing the bard to come to him when he was feeling soft and forgiving again. He keeps that firm grip on Jaskier's ass, given permission after all, and squeezes it again. The other hand cards through Jaskier's hair and tugs it in just the way he likes the most, before smoothing the wet hair back. "Why would I want you to regret it?" Geralt may regret it, someday, not now, especially not when things are so good between them, but inevitably. He isn't letting that run his life though. He would hesitate from calling himself happy, but contentment for him is practically the same thing.
Geralt nuzzles him, teasing even now, brushing their lips together so gently but stopping before it gets serious. He waits until Jaskier really wants it, until he leans in trying to get more, and then he kisses Jaskier with that direct heat that's all his. He tugs Jaskier's hair and then tilts his head to the side, letting his mouth move down the slope of the bard's neck, licking the water off, biting him.
His hand moves from that nice ass of his around and wastes no time in getting around Jaskier's cock, starting to stroke it slowly to bring it to life. "I've been an awful, wretched man." Geralt murmurs into Jaskier's wet skin, sucking just underneath his ear. It's the exact words he flung at him while pouting a few moments ago. "Maybe when we're done here, you can punish me for it." Geralt assumes by now Jaskier understands; he knows the witcher likes his ass being slapped and they can't do that in the water.
He doesn't plan on moving yet, sliding his hand faster on Jaskier's cock, biting Jaskier's pouty bottom lip and looking at him with sharp golden eyes. He smirks. "Would you like me to demonstrate how strong I am?"
If Geralt is a solid rock, standing proud and unmovable, then Jaskier is the ocean waves, smoothing out the hardest edges with time. He likes to think they're good for each other, that they complement each other. Different kinds of strength and weaknesses that somehow manage to work together. He can't imagine a life without Geralt, not a happy or long one.
The bard doesn't have the same issues about privacy. He doesn't like to be interrupted, of course, that's why he favors bedrooms and tents but if passion or possessiveness strikes, any shadowed area is good enough for him. It's exciting, the chance of being caught and how riled up Geralt gets if someone else tries to put the moves on the bard. He appreciates the fact that Geralt cares enough to be jealous and it's not unknown to the Witcher that Jaskier is a green-eyed monster when other people - and a certain witch - puts the moves on his wolf. Geralt might not see himself as desirable but he is very, very wrong in that perception and Jaskier will happily remind him every day that he's a feast for the eyes.
Jaskier would be hard-pressed to say what came upon him that night when he decided to make his interest a little bit more obvious. Maybe finally the planets aligned the right way because he had considered saying something sooner and always chickened out at the last minuted. It had been going on for years and he had given up on Geralt even getting the less than subtle hints. And then it just...happened.
"Don't look so smug about it." Jaskier slaps him on the chest, which turns into an excuse to fondle Geralt because why not. He's allowed to and the Witcher has some great, firm knockers and the bard is a weak man when those are involved. It's true that he can't stay angry for long, not at Geralt, and he doesn't like hating either. It's not the kind of emotiona he wants to let fester, they makes him too miserable and he's seen the kind of damage anger does to people. There's no place for that in his life.
He is much happier like this, snuggling close to Geralt, feeling each other's bodies, messing around. None of them is anywhere close to teenage years but they can act like them often. The touches to his hair make him hum and close his eyes, arching his back a little to press his ass further against Geralt's palm. There are droplets of water clinging to the long eyelashes brushing his cheeks and Jaskier has never looked happier. They will agree to more training if this is how they are going to unwind once it's all over, the pain will be worth it.
"Good point, it will never happen anyway." The voice is soft but resolute, and the last thing Jaskier says abut it. There will be no worrying about that now, he doesn't want Geralt to start overthinking. The Witcher seems to be busy enough being a tease, pulling away when Jaskier was so sure they were going to kiss and earning himself a small needy moan from the younger man. When he finally has Geralt's mouth where he wants it, he's pliant and receptive, heat spreading down his whole body and starting on their point of contact, tingling on his lips.
His head arches back, offering more neck for Geralt to bite and suck, to mark him. Jaskier's hands bury on his hair, wet strands sliding between the fingers like liquid silk, tugging at it and scratching the scalp. The heart beats faster, adrenaline running, and the bard's breathing starts to come in short pants when a firm hand strokes his cock just the way it makes his toes curl. He had been growing harder by the seconds and now there's no hiding his interest. When Geralt speaks and Jaskier laughs briefly his flat stomach tenses and quivers. He does understand and he will fulfill that unsaid request with delight.
"Very awful, ah, yes. Yes, you might need a lesson..." Leaving the soft tangle of the white hair, Jaskier slides a hand down Geralt's shoulders, leaving thing reddened marks on the skin as he does so. His tongue reaches out to lap at Geralt's mouth after the man bites at his bottom lip. There is something so heavenly about touching each other in the spring, with the water chilling the skin and the kisses setting it on fire. "Hmmm? Yes. Yes. If I ever say no, then it means I'm a doppler."
Geralt knows that having sex behind a door isn't that private when everyone in the place can hear them have sex, but he still does prefer it that way. He feels vulnerable when he's having sex and if he senses himself as exposed with someone else around, they become a threat that distracts him. Also as much as he loves smelling Jaskier's arousal, he doesn't love it from other people toward them. He usually will let the bard get frisky in some suggestive places, but it always ends up shuttered away. They have sex out in the open here too, like now, but he can also hear people approaching.
The possessiveness is uncontrollable. It is not that he doubts Jaskier's dedication to him, he can tell that no interest is in his partner's blue eyes when other people hit on him. But he has long since accepted that there's a part of him that is more animal than man, and as long as it works for both of them, that's fine. People are far more scared of him than Jaskier; it's very rare anyone is brave enough to hit on him. He can count on one hand how many did.
It is calculated, this little seduction of his; it comes from a sincere place but he also does it as a reward for Jaskier giving into him. His bard didn't just sulk and do the bare minimum, he did genuinely work at it, and it makes Geralt fond. So he kisses Jaskier until moans fall from his lips, his big hands touching him in all the places he enjoys most. He growls low when Jaskier tugs his hair, feeling his nails, biting a little harder.
His heart thuds to an almost very slow human rate, looking forward to that 'lesson.' Geralt lifts his head to look at Jaskier. "You have to trust me and be calm. Hold my hair. And remember where we are." The explanation makes sense only when both of Geralt's hands grab Jaskier by the ass and lifts him. The very first time they had sex Geralt lifted him like he weighed nothing and that hasn't changed. Only this time instead of putting his legs around Geralt's waist, he lifts him even higher until his legs are on top of Geralt's shoulders instead. High in the air, legs balanced or attempted to balance around Geralt's neck, a firm grip on his ass keeping him up. The where they are is in reference to the water; if the worst happens and Jaskier loses balance, all that will happen is hitting the water nearby. It's not as unnerving as worrying about the ground or something harsh.
But he would really have to fight Geralt to get out of his grip. He gives him every reason not to do that by immediately taking advantage of Jaskier straddling his face sideways. He hungrily moves his head and licks Jaskier's hard cock, kissing his way up to the tip and then sucks it right down without any hesitation. This is not the first (or last) time Geralt has full control of Jaskier's body so all he can do is enjoy it, bobbing his head and swallowing Jaskier whole, moaning loudly around his cock.
It would be more private if they didn't mess around and yowled like beasts in heat, but it's not something Jaskier has planned on changing about their encounters. He's always been a vocal person and when paired with someone like Geralt, it's impossible to keep himself in check. Jaskier has enough decency to feel bad when the furniture breaks but it also makes him quite proud and it's nothing an extra coin tip can't fix. Regret is for people without a Witcher lover.
The main reason why Jaskier doesn't feel vulnerable with public sex it's because he's doing it with Geralt, who could and would fight whatever creature that gets too close to them with ill intentions. Not like the bard wants interruptions or to see his partner in any kind of danger. The possessiveness is an extra plus and when Jaskier tells Geralt he wants him, he's also including the man's demons, feral tendencies and jagged edges into the equation. Just like Geralt seems to accept Jaskier's own eccentricities, flaws, and annoying habits.
He shudders and gasps under Geralt's ministrations when the Witcher's fingers leave goosebumps in their wake. Jaskier returns the touches with the same devotion and kisses him when he's able, sometimes with urgency, others slowly to savor the moment. It's no secret that the bard thrives on attention but there's something else to Geralt's mood today, how happy or satisfied he seems that Jaskier has taken training seriously that it only convinces the brunette to do better the next time.
Confusion flickers on Jaskier's face when Geralt makes it clear he's about to do something yet he is as vague about it as always. When the bard's scent spikes, it's no doubt in aroused anticipation rather than fear, because this is Geralt what they were talking about. Despite the vote of confidence in his partner, nothing could have prepared him for what Geralt does next, an action that earns a scandalized little cry Jaskier absolutely did not mean and that he will deny fervently if mocked about it. He panics, realizing the position he is in now, and relaxes only when it dawns on him that, if Geralt were to drop him again, the water would cushion his fall. It's an unfounded concern, Geralt has a tight grip on him, a show of strength and determination, and Jaskier's cock throbs almost painfully at the display.
"Fuck, Geralt! Holy s....ohhh, this is so hot. You're incredible. Gods."
Geralt is manhandling him into a whole new, wonderful and gentle way that has him keening. Lust runs hotly through Jaskier's blood, settles hot and heavy in his belly, but he can't help the way his thighs tremble with the effort required to keep himself both upright and bend over Geralt slightly. He knows Geralt is ten times stronger than him but a small part of Jaskier is still self-conscious, worried about the Witcher's neck and shoulder supporting all of his weight.
His voice rises an octave the moment Geralt's traitorous mouth is on him, licking and sucking. Against all logic, the Witcher looks perfectly comfortable in his current position. Musician's hands come up to grasp at the white hair as it has been requested and Jaskier is grateful to have something to hold onto. He's still concerned about hurting Geralt or choking him if he dares to roll his hips. These worries that are pretty much forgotten in a matter of seconds, Jaskier starts praising deities, saying Geralt's name over and over in a low voice as if he's part of the Pantheon, and there are urgent, scattered cries mixed in his vocal adoration.
Geralt doesn't love the looks the day after, but he is a scary enough figure that people don't tease him or bring it up much past if there was damage to the room. Which is reasonable, and he is always very honorable about it. It is a trade-off for having the type of sex he needs. He could shut Jaskier up if he wanted to, but he feeds off the sounds he makes instead. Jaskier could get him aroused simply by moaning the right way. He would never smother that unless absolutely necessary.
Physical vulnerability is not a thing that Geralt knows. He could be balls deep in Jaskier and still probably fight someone. He hopes that is never going to be a problem for them, but it is still an awareness and confidence he needs if he is going to fuck his bard in their campgrounds. Emotional vulnerability is different; he did consider their sex physical and simple in the start. Now he feels things and therefore he's prickly and defensive of it.
He has never been someone who seeks to please someone else, but at the moment, that is all he can think about. He wants to please Jaskier. He wants to taste his come, hear him howl, feel his limbs wrapped around Geralt in desperation. He knows that there is no real warning he can give Jaskier for what he plans, and the bard might have frozen up if he tried, so it was better to simply do it. He huff-laughs when Jaskier gives that scandalized cry; as if the bard can be scandalized! Geralt likes that. It reminds him of those sweet blushes.
This isn't as effortless as Geralt is making it seem. It is requiring finesse and skill more than strength. Any worry Jaskier is having he plans on wiping away entirely by sucking him dry. Overthinking will be impossible if he arouses his bard past it, and Jaskier's a sensual being. He can't control himself for long. He proves just that when he seems to relax and simply feel it. He rumbles around Jaskier's cock when he gets his fingers into Geralt's hair. It helps them both in this position for Jaskier to hold onto something. He smells incredible this close and Geralt takes him so deep it's as if gag reflex isn't a thing he's aware of when this focused and turned on. Then again, with so much control over his body, he can turn on and off just about anything.
It's not an easy position for Jaskier to thrust forward so Geralt does it for him since he can, his hands firmly squeezed on Jaskier's ass, pushing it up as his head comes down and taking him deeper. He spreads the cheeks, teasing his hole with a finger just on the rim but not going inside. Geralt wants to command him to come but that would require taking his mouth off and he's too hungry for that, his tongue rubbing on the underside of Jaskier's cock, circling the tip when his head moves. The aggressive way he's bringing Jaskier to his peak should be obvious enough, with no sign of slowing down, only speeding up.
Even if Geralt might think differently since he claims that Jaskier is a magnet for danger, the bard gets into less and less trouble the longer they hang out together. Clinging next to a handsome, intimidating Witcher makes a lot of people hold back his tongue. Of course, most of them don't think of Geralt as handsome when the man is glaring at them but it's a word Jaskier associates with him on the regular.
Here in the open, they don't have to worry about pissed off innkeepers and Jaskier isn't holding himself back. He couldn't even if he tried, the clamoring thoughts and worries from before entirely forgotten, mind at easy still for at least a little while. A very, very pleasant while. A big part of what's getting him so hot and bothered is the unabashed display of strength. Not just physical power, Jaskier knows Geralt is an unstoppable force, it's also about how sure he is of himself when they have sex and how determined he seems today on making sure Jaskier is enjoying himself plenty.
The bright blue eyes are half-lidded and dark with want, lust and fondness mixed in them, his lips parted just slightly. Jaskier mutters pleased cries and filthy words of encouragement, grabs and gropes at the parts of Geralt he can reach -his hair, the back of the his head- then scratches the small patch of skin between his shoulder blades that isn't framed by his own legs, flushed and wild.
He gets louder the deeper Geralt takes him and once the Witcher starts to help him move his hips Jaskier's eyes roll back in his head. His body clenches, cock throbbing in the tight heat of Geralt’s mouth, and his eyelashes flutter as his partner's name falls from his lips over and over. In the position they're both in, being quick is probably not too shameful, Jaskier hopes. Geralt is doing his damned best to make him lose it, he can tell, and his whole body feels ready to burst, both from affection at how doting Geralt can be to him, and at how fucking sinful his tongue turned out to be. Jaskier doesn't deserve this much adoration, no one ever gave it to him this way before and he points it out between moans, words spilling out of Jaskier's mouth before he can think better of it. There's no way he is going to stare at Geralt's mouth and not remember this day for the rest of his life. From now on the memory will be enough to make him hard and wet, possible at the most inconvenient moment.
"G-Geralt, I can't...I'm going to..." Trembling fingers curl into Geralt's silver- white hair one more time but rather than holding him in place, Jaskier seems to be trying to move the Witcher's head back. He sounds wrecked, voice rough with need, but there's a hint of concern in it as well. He's heaving in startled breaths, his blue eyes now wide and the usually pale cheekbones stained with two spots of pink. "I don't want to choke you when I come...I...fuck...!"
Geralt clearly has other plans, mouth setting an unrelenting pace and no intentions of pulling his tongue away. It makes the bard twitch and shake with the effort of holding himself back, a lost battle. The rough pad of a finger catches on Jaskier's rim and he whimpers hotly. It's only a teasing caress against the sensitive skin but it's enough to send a jolt up his spine, sparking like a firecracker. He screams, a desperate choked-off little keening noise and his body seizes up. The breathing grows unsteady, toes curling against Geralt’s back and his orgasm hits him all at once, like a cord snapping. A shuddering breath followed by a loud whine, little dots dancing before Jaskier's eyes as he digs both of his hands into Geralt's hair.
Geralt is glad he's the type of handsome that only attracts a certain type of person, because humans are exhausting enough without some of them also wanting him on top of it. Yes he likes sex occasionally, but he doesn't want active admiration or attention when he's just trying to go about his life working and existing. Luckily he is having sex plenty and by the only person he's interested in having the attention of currently. If everyone else sees him as an intimidating figure, that is precisely what he's wanted.
Jaskier can be such a livewire when he's turned on like this. He's hot and electric underneath Geralt's grasp and it's been a long time since Geralt wanted silence out of the bard. How can he want silence when he moans so beautifully? He's never heard anyone with a mouth on him like Jaskier. The things he says to him he's never heard before in all his years and every one of them manages to go to his cock because of that. Due to Geralt's imposing dominance, it might be easy to assume he was only a taker, someone absorbed in fucking and the rest only an add-on. It isn't the case. He enjoys giving; there's just as much power in making Jaskier scream like this than splitting him open inside.
Jaskier is trying to warn him and he tries to be reassuring without speaking, squeezing his ass when he speaks as if to say I know, it's fine. If he didn't want Jaskier to come, he would have already put him down. Instead he focuses all his attention on making it happen now that it's clear the bard has accepted he can't stop. He does like Jaskier choking on his cock when he's feeling brutal, so he is fine with it the other way, groaning around him instead. He feels the tremble up Jaskier's body and he's already swallowing by the time Jaskier comes, taking as much of it in as he can.
Geralt is as gentle as ever when he lifts Jaskier again, releasing him from his mouth. He sets the bard's legs down in the water but keeps a strong arm around him in case he's weak-kneed, holding him close. He doesn't mind if Jaskier wants to keep his hands in his hair; it feels good. He's hard himself but in no hurry, the water good to clean Jaskier off. Geralt would have done so with his tongue, but he knows his bard can be sensitive so soon after an orgasm. He reaches down to splash a little water on his own face; he swallowed most of it but there was plenty of saliva and precome to take care of too.
After that he dips his head down to kiss Jaskier deeply; Geralt doesn't kiss in halves or quarters, most of the time they're intense like the rest of him. He likes to get Jaskier a little drunk on him, on his kisses and appetite. He knows from experience neither of them mind tasting themselves on the other's tongue. He ducks his head down to bite Jaskier's neck and then up to his ear. "You can choke me on your cock any time," he rumbles near his ear. If his voice sounds rougher than usual, Jaskier can take credit for that, considering how Geralt deep throated him.
He is still in that playful mood, considering how openly he's flirting. Geralt nibbles on his ear lobe and then steps back, taking Jaskier's hands and leading him into the shallows. He turns and leans a little over, presenting his ass to Jaskier. He knows what he wants and he's not afraid to ask for it. This time his mischief even makes him wiggle it a little at the bard, like he would have done the other way around. "Teach me a lesson, Jask."
Humans are exhausting and it's possible that bards even more so, with their need for attention. Alas, it is too late for Geralt to get rid of this one and Jaskier has him covered in the 'wanting him' department. He would fight people for him, even. They seem to be alone on this side of the land, forest critters aside, and Jaskier is relaxed enough knowing that he doesn't have to worry about competition. They have time to enjoy each other and that's exactly what he plans on doing all day. They are already off to a good start.
He's sure he makes the most embarrassing noises known to man when he comes but Geralt seems to like him being vocal and Jaskier doesn't try to police himself. It's a rush of adrenaline followed by a sweet crash, leaving him dizzy and loose-limbed, trembly all down his spine. He melts against the man's body when Geralt puts him down gently but still holds him up, grateful for that too because even the cold of the water isn't enough to immediately help him regain the use of his lower limbs. With one hand wrapped around Geralt's neck to keep himself upright, the other plays and tugs the silver-white hair Jaskier's eyes are soft and his smile is calm. He's always surprised about how much Geralt knows about what he likes and what he doesn't, like how sensible Jaskier gets right after sex, and he can only dream about returning the interest with equal enthusiasm.
"Aah, consider me thoroughly impressed with your strength." He's breathless and so grateful for Geralt's attention that he doesn't even joke about using this morning as inspiration for a song. He leans into the kiss eagerly, chuckling briefly against the glimmering lips. They're both beyond caring about these things, Jaskier enjoys kisses almost as he likes singing and they have tasted each other and themselves plenty. He's humming in delight and arching his head back when Geralt goes for his neck next and then lets out a small squeak.
"Oh, ah, that's very good to know. Very good." So much that he reaches down to give Geralt's ass a squeeze. Gods, does Geralt's voice sound good that that, saying filth and promises to him. Now, if the man stopped being so distracting and let him return the attention...his wish is granted the moment Geralt turns, the nickname bringing hunger back to Jaskier's eyes, his spent cock giving a trying twitch. He moves closer to Geralt taking slow steps, enjoying the view, almost like he's prowling.
"You did throw me into the cold water." Jaskier admonishes, voice like molten heat, bringing his hand down in a solid slap against his backside. His other hand curls around Geralt's hip, any other person would then not be allowed to move an inch without his permission and Jaskier is going to play pretend even if he's well aware that Geralt is three times stronger. The key is really making Geralt not want to move away.
"Unforgivable." He chides softly, hand kneading gently into the flesh of Geralt’s arse even as he leans in to mouth at the curve of his shoulder where it meets the neck, teeth sinking into it. It's only a small sting, not nearly close to an attempt at breaking the skin, but it's a promise for more.
The hand on his hips slide down, his front, fingers brushing the happy trail under Geralt's bellybutton, giving a teasingly quick stroke of Geralt's cock before the second slap follows, echoing loudly into the quiet of the forest. Jaskier starts purring complaints that are nothing but veiled praise into Geralt's ears using the same sweet tone and sometimes adding a growly cadence to it. His chest presses over the expanse of Geralt's back and expert fingers roam over his body, sliding over his flank, thumbing and pinching nipples, giving teasing rubs to his cock. And then his hand comes down again, and again and again, until Geralt's right cheeks it's a lovely shade of pink and the skin hot under his palm. Jaskier wants to get on his knees and bite it, wants to lick the droplets of water off of it, lick Geralt everywhere, and he tells the Witcher just that, voice hoarse.
"Would you like me to?" He adds after a second. They're usually attuned enough to read each other desires and needs but he wants to hear Geralt tell him what he wants so it leaves no room for misinterpretation.
Geralt thirsts for Jaskier's noises and he's even begrudgingly allowed himself to be far more vocal. He's still quiet in comparison, his groans and snarls not heard behind a closed door, but they are practically screams for the witcher. Being silent is his natural inclination. A breathy gasp or mangled moan used to be the extent of what he would allow. He couldn't stop himself with Jaskier. The bard knows how to get him going like no one else. They spur each other on. His real loud problem is banging the bed frame or tearing off chunks of mattress with his nails, neither of which are a problem out here thankfully. They could easily destroy an entire bed together. Maybe one day if they get some very good coin he'll intentionally get them a room they can do exactly that.
The prowling does things to him. Geralt's golden eyes snap over to Jaskier and he watches him move intently. There's something feline in the way he does, predatory, and the witcher l-o-v-e-s it. He bares his teeth in response to the concept of being prey, but heat surges in his cock from it too. Jaskier's voice is low and in control and Geralt licks his lips, not even provocatively, they just went dry when he spoke. He understands what the hand on his hip means and fully intends to respect the request, gasping out loud when that first slap hits his ass. Perfect.
Geralt could toss him aside like nothing but he likes when Jaskier plays at being dominant too. It makes him feel a type of vulnerable he actually enjoys. He warms underneath Jaskier's confident attention, completely passive in his grasp. He exposes his neck more to Jaskier, moaning softly as his teeth come into play. The interplay between a hand on his cock and then a slap against his skin is enough to make him start to pant in pleasure, eyes fluttering half-closed from the pleasure of it. He lets Jaskier's words and touch wash over him.
He hums in appreciation when he can lean back into Jaskier's chest, leaving himself entirely in the bard's hands as he stimulates his nipples, touches the witcher possessively, owns every inch of his body in a way no one else has. Geralt is in a state of bliss without release, moaning louder with every smack of that hand. His hips jerk forward a little each time, not touching himself or Jaskier. If he touches himself, he'll come, and he likes the idea of letting Jaskier touch all he wants without Geralt's grabby dominant hands trying to move him. He feels that urge in him now, to take over, but it's easy to push aside when he's almost dizzy with arousal.
"Mmmm?" Geralt responds dreamily at first, the sting on his ass so good that he is wiggling it again in Jaskier's grip, grinding against that feeling. He replays the incredibly dirty things Jaskier said to him; he is listening to every one of them, but sometimes the feeling gets the better of him. "Yes," he says, shivering. "I need to ...." Geralt kneels down in the shallow end, the water lapping nicely around his knees while the important parts out of the water. The reason why is obvious: the extremely strong witcher, who just lifted Jaskier over his shoulders like it was nothing, is certain he'll get so weak-kneed from Jaskier's mouth that he'll buckle and is thinking ahead. That's the level of power the bard has over him, that he not only admits to such weakness but embraces it.
"You don't have to ask, you can just do." He mumbles that quietly, casually, as if he's hesitant to admit how much he likes Jaskier taking over. It's a tightrope walk for someone as dominant as him. Geralt understands why Jaskier asks, he appreciates that, and he reaches back to snatch one of Jaskier's hands. He brings it tenderly to his mouth, not looking at him, still struggling with looking him in the eye when vulnerable like this. "I trust you," Geralt says sincerely, kissing Jaskier's knuckles and then his palm.
It gives him such a thrilling every time Jaskier manages to get a pleases sound of out of Geralt that he barely knows what to do with himself. The displeased ones, like grunts and hums, he receives them plenty on a daily basis but Jaskier doesn't care about those in the slightest. In fact, he ignores them most of the time on principle. But oh, the moans. The deep rumbling noises that are more purr than growl. The gaps. The bard loves those with all his heart. He knows their rarity, knows that Witchers are trained to keep their emotions in check and that also includes the pleasant ones, so there'd nothing that gets Jaskier more drunk on Geralt than hearing him enjoying himself. They have that in common and it gives them both wonderful results in the bedroom as well as pissed off innkeepers out of it.
He tries to be more assertive when his partner displays this kind of mood, when the man allows it, seeks it even. At the look Geralt gives him for his approach, blue eyes narrow, smirk turning sharper and predatory. If this is what his lover enjoys, who's Jaskier to deny it to him? The brunette doesn't talk any less than he does on the regular but he makes sure to drop his voice a few octaves, low and husky. His tone is full of lust when he says Geralt's name and what he plans to do with him, drawing out the vocals like pebbles on a beach. The bared teeth he gets in response only spurs him on, makes him lean in to nip at Geralt's lower lip after the witcher licks them, drawing attention. Their mouth press together for a kiss. It's not a bruising one but it's demanding, tongue pushing past sharp teeth, exploring Geralt's mouth. There's a lot of things Jaskier enjoys doing with his mouth and the man's gorgeous body, kissing is only part of it.
Geralt is being so good too, taking his 'punishment' in stride and making lovely sounds after every smack. Jaskier makes sure to change their intensity, offering light ones before harsher slaps, so Geralt can feel the sting as something new every time. He keeps an eye on the Witcher's body language, not just the way his cock fills and hardens to an impossible degree, but the way he holds his gaze or looks down, to avoid overstepping any comfort zone. Everything is going well so far and when Geralt gets on his fours, Jaskier's heart leaps to his throat at the view. He has to will his face into a calm expression so he doesn't look positively ravenous. The bard doesn't think he's been successful. His expression does soften easily when Geralt kisses his hand. Leaning over him, blanketing Geralt with his body again, he nuzzles him behind the ear, then catches his earlobe between his teeth.
"What will please would be making you come with my tongue in you." His hand shifts, first to brush his thumb over Geralt's wet lower lip and then to press his index finger against the plush curve of his mouth before sliding inside. The pad of his finger slides over Geralt's tongue and it's Jaskier's turn to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning. He adds a second one, slowly moving the fingers in and out the burning hot mouth.
The poor Witcher has been hard for a while and Jaskier doesn't want to taunt him much longer. A loving kiss is pressed to the curve of the man shoulder, followed by a much sharper bite that will leave a mark that might last at least a little while. Jaskier hopes so. Retreating his fingers from Geralt's mouth and humming contended at the view, he moves again. Geralt's spine is peppered with kisses, first between the shoulders blades and then down, down, over scarred skin and strong muscles. A hand slides down Geralt's flanks, the curve of his hip and the inside of his thigh, skin surprisingly soft there. It's all sweet and good, until Jaskier lands a strike over Geralt's left check, unprompted, the sound almost vibrating around them. With a grin on his face, Jaskier nips and the reddened bruise, feels the heat of it under his tongue when he licks the droplets off of Geralt's skin as promised.
His head tilts, nose brushing between perfectly round ass cheeks, pulling them apart with his left hand. The right one sneaks between Geralt's thighs, under him, to run a slick palm all over the hard cock. Jaskier rewards Geralt with a long squeeze just as the flat of his tongue presses against the man's entrance. Hot and slick and insistent, done with the teasing, Jaskier flicks his tongue over the sensitive flesh. He's tortuously slow one moment and then darting, stiffening his tongue to press inside past the rim of his hole. His hand doesn't stay idle, jerking the thick and swollen cock from root to tip, thumbing the slit and moving faster and faster, with the same determined urgency Geralt has offered him before when he brought him to completion. Without any other warning but a pleasing hum against his pucker and another push of his tongue, Jaskier slaps him again where the damp curve of Geralt’s arse meets his thighs. Hard.
There is nothing he enjoys more than hearing Jaskier scream as he fucks him into a mattress, hearing those beautiful pleases drop from red swollen lips, his body burning hot surrounding Geralt. But he craves this too, more than he expected, more than he ever thought that he would. It feels good, but more than that, it comes from a place of trust and genuine emotion, things he doesn't share with others. He will always care deeply for Yennefer but he doesn't trust her; that isn't what their relationship is. What he has with Jaskier is very real and he likes to express that by putting himself into the bard's hands.
He returns Jaskier's heated kiss, sucking on his tongue, trying to catch his breath but it keeps getting sucked away a bit at a time with Jaskier's perfectly timed strikes. He is mindlessly turned on now, fearing every single slap will get him to come, yet he manages to keep himself under control. He makes a very content sound, a hum mixed with a purr, when Jaskier's body moves onto his and he leans back into him. He nods enthusiastically when Jaskier says how he wants him to come. He might have said yes but then Jaskier's fingers are in his mouth and he groans loudly against them. He sucks on them hard, helping lather them up, letting Jaskier fuck his mouth with his fingers.
He's as thirsty as a bitch in heat by the time Jaskier starts kissing his way down his body, rocking back into Jaskier's heat, begging with his ass and eagerness. Geralt immediately moves his knees apart wider, giving Jaskier more space to settle in behind him. He wants to give Jaskier an easier time so his head bows low, almost down to the water, lifting his ass up in obvious offering. He never had any idea what it would be like, this type of act, it hadn't crossed his mind. His partners were very direct, same as him, a little oil if they had it or spit otherwise, and straight to the fucking. Jaskier's sudden slap on left cheek makes him hiss fuck loudly.
"Fuck," he says out loud, shakily, when Jaskier parts his cheeks. The bard isn't teasing him for which he is grateful because he's already dizzy with lust and need. He whimpers when he feels that tongue thrust inside of him and he grips the ground beneath him hard, some of his silver hair dropping into the water. "Jaskier, yes, gods, yes." It is a whisper like a prayer, Jaskier's name, rocking back into his tongue and then into his hand. He is on the cusp, on the precipice of tension and pleasure-pain, when he thumbs at that slit. Geralt holds his breath.
That slap is all it takes and he thrusts desperately forward, coming all over Jaskier's hand and into the water itself, his arms shaking as if his great strength is failing him now. Geralt lets the pleasure surge through him and he sags for a moment, gasping, spinning out of control. He carefully takes Jaskier's hand off him and turns underneath him, running fingers through his hair and tugging Jaskier close. Geralt lies back onto the sand and shallow water, pulling Jaskier on top of him without thinking about it. He just wants to make it easier to kiss him, to ravage Jaskier's mouth like he's chasing his own taste and pleasure. The bard is not much of a weight on him and he is often pliable like this after a good orgasm, open and affectionate.
He even partially opens his golden eyes to look at Jaskier, hazy from pleasure, putting his arms around his lover and holding him close. Geralt's swollen ass feels very well used, rubbing against the sand at the moment, and he's pleased about it. "I take back about half of my complaints about you plowing everything in sight." Geralt smirks up at him, nuzzling his nose, kissing him slowly. "You're fucking good at this." If it means that all his sex with others made him this good, well, Geralt gets to reap the benefits.
Jaskier is up for some more screaming in the near future too, once they've caught their breaths and they're back to camp. He's always enjoyed sex but Geralt makes him almost insatiable in virtue of fulfilling a need he's lived with for so long. Sex is spectacular but doing it the Witcher is more special than being with anyone else. Jaskier would be happy with only kissing him all over or burrowing close to him if that were all Geralt is interested in doing. Every time the man allows himself to be in a vulnerable position for him, lets himself be touched, putting his trust on Jaskier knowing that his lover won't take advantage, the bard's heart skips a few beats. Maybe it is the romantic in him, but Jaskier would give this man anything he has to offer. His touches, his body, his whole soul.
The way Geralt responds to the fingers in his mouth, the kisses down his back and the smacking, it's so different and much better than their first time, so much more fulfilling. Not like the first one wasn't spectacular. That night Jaskier will carry in his heart for the rest of his life, it's when all this started. It turned messy before it got much better, and now Jaskier feels like they're both more free. He knows he's more honest with himself, than the heavyweight of the longing he had for Geralt's affection is no longer pulling him down. Jaskier can only hope he makes the White Wolf at least half as happy as he feels every day.
His mind fills with the groans and whimpers Geralt is making, they will keep him warm on cold nights. He wants to tell Geralt how gorgeous he feels, how good he tastes and how fucking hot he sounds, but Jaskier's mouth is busy so he lets his hand to the talking. There's nothing he loves more than the way Geralt says his name while he's so close to coming, the heat and need of it making the bard shiver as well. When Geralt shouts and shudders, Jaskier rides him through his orgams, milking it out of him and retreating his tongue before oversensitivity kicks in, then biting on the skin of an asscheek one last time. Jaskier is much more oversensitive than Geralt after coming but the Witcher looks surprisingly shaky today and Jaskier caresses up the small of his back, ready to move and hold him up is his limbs can no longuer holding. It's an pleasant view, one that fills him with pride. He did this, he managed to make Geralt go weak in the knees.
Jaskier doesn't get the chance to hold him, Geralt is bouncing back and turning to pull him close even before the bard can even blink twice. He instantly melts again his lover's body, letting the bigger man maneuver them in a way that feels more comfortable, taking notice that all this happens while his eyes are still closed. Jaskier snuggles up to him and gives a happy, contented hum at the kisses, returning them with eagerness. There's less bitting but Geralt is passionate, making Jaskier chuckle a little against his mouth at the intensity. Gods, he loves this man.
"Only half? I'll have to work harder the next time." Jaskier trills, lounging upon the Witcher's scarred chest and placing small kisses on Geralt lips between words. He looks down at the man once he's satisfied and his smile is soft and deeply pleased, blue eyes alight with affection. One of his hands reaches up to Geralt's hair, brushing a wet strand away from his forehead, curling it around his shoulder instead. Geralt is relaxed under his touch, the sun is warming his back and the water cooling their overheated bodies. It feels like some sort of wonderful dream that he doesn't want to wake up from.
"I have a very inspiring partner. One who also happens to be a very good teacher." He appreciates all the things Geralt does for him, Jaskier's trying to say, from the protection against monsters and men, to the training lessons. "You make fantastic sounds, I like hearing them when you let yourself go." It's difficult for Geralt, he knows that, and it's why he appreciates it. "I'm far more willing to train with you every morning if this is what we will be doing later. Aha! I figured out your master plan to turn me into a dece...into a not terrible fighter."
Geralt is not typically a snuggly or affectionate person. Perhaps he did enjoy the occasional afterglow with his lovers, but it was always temporary. Sometimes he and Yen did have their moments and he fed off that, but they were both very defensive people who hated vulnerability. With Jaskier, it comes naturally. Probably because his bard is very vulnerable and always has his heart on his sleeve, which forces Geralt to be more openly aware of hurting his feelings or reacting to the sweetness of his lover. He didn't have any defense against that type of closeness, since he never had to fight it off before now. He didn't think he would crave it like this, that it would brings him peace.
He does feel weak in the knees so lying on his back is easier, and he likes the weight of Jaskier on him. He enjoys when the bard rides him, his whole lanky body on display. Geralt lets his hand run down the curve of Jaskier's spine, squeezing his ass playfully. his other caressing through his wet hair. He is also in a soft and pleased state, returning the kisses languidly. "Only half," he confirms. "Fighting angry spouses on your behalf was a waste of my energy." Geralt nuzzles his nose. "Fucking you instead saves me the trouble." It is said as a tease, as if he did any of this in part to keep him from having to deal with Jaskier's nonsense. It's not the truth, although that is a great side effect.
Geralt smirks and chuckles softly. "It is part of my plan, yes." He's been caught, but he doubts Jaskier minds. Positive reinforcement makes them both satisfied. Sex was a reward in this case. He curls a leg around Jaskier's knee and then rolls them, taking Jaskier's hands in his and pinning them against the wet sand. "Seeing you hold a sword decently would be very appealing." Very sexually attractive, he means. He kisses Jaskier's jaw and bites his chin. "I don't need you to be a warrior." Geralt doesn't mean to indicate that he wants Jaskier to change or become more like him simply because he thinks Jaskier holding a sword is hot. He adores the bard as he is, but still. What can he say? Competency is a turn-on.
"I didn't expect us to be so compatible in bed," he admits, kissing Jaskier's neck. It isn't that he expected them to be dull in sex, not in the least, but there is a difference between good sex and incredible sex. It was incredible from that first time. No one's understood his needs as well as Jaskier. No one's trusted their body so fully to him before. He licks Jaskier's neck, sucking another mark to add to the pile of them.
"I can't get enough of you." It is obvious from the way they keep touching each other. Geralt is better about it in public, putting a reasonable distance between them. He didn't expect to stop wanting Jaskier because of their constant sex, getting bored is not like Geralt, who has always been content with occasional sex and nothing more. But this fixation? It's new. He keeps Jaskier's arms pinned and bites down on his clavicle, but has to reluctantly force himself to sit up, letting Jaskier go. "We need to finish washing or I'm going to fuck you right here." It is not entirely true; he is very conscientious of not hurting his lover and they had nothing to open him properly. But he'd be tempted.
Geralt gets off Jaskier but tugs him up with him, leading him back into the water. His own hands are covered with sand and dirty from digging into the ground when Jaskier was licking him, so he washes them off. "We will go to a bigger town next. We need better coin." Little towns gave him less trouble, he doesn't like being around a lot of people, but he could get more than one monster hunt depending on where they go. Geralt doesn't go with 'we should' rather than 'we will' because he still takes charge of their wandering. For pragmatic reasons and since he knows where there's more monster troubles.
Jaskier is a cuddle monster. He tried not to be too clingy at first but he's not very good at self-restraint and there's so much of Geralt to hug. The bard likes to curl up against him and fall sleep with his head on the man's chest, listening to the slow rhythm of his heartbeat. He also likes to show the Witcher that he's very comfortable around him, that he's never afraid to touch him or lower his guard around the man, that Geralt also deserves kindness and affection.
It came like a startling surprise when Geralt started returning it. Jaskier has always know that he could be far gentler than most people gave him credit for but he was still not big on touches. And yet, here they were, cuddling, kissing, and lying on the wet sand. He has never felt happier. The water lapping at their skin splashes around a bit when Jaskier shifts his legs, thighs on each side of Geralt's, knees on the sand and back arching to press against into his hand. He feels like purring like a content cat when the Witcher's fingers card through his hair.
"Hmm...alright. That's fair. You're good at keeping me focussed on one person alone." Jaskier nuzzles him back, eyes closed and mouth curling into a smile and murmuring 'my wolf' under his breath. He gets the joke, being mad doesn't even cross his mind, and there's a degree of truth on Geralt's statement. Jaskier doesn't want anybody else and since they promised to each other that they were exclusive, he knows for certain that he's wanted the same way.
"Devious..." The word is chastizing but the tone is not. It's a good tactic and if their roles were reversed Jaskier would have used it on him as well. He doesn't get another word in before Geralt is flipping them over and Jaskier's naked back is pressed against the sand. It's wet and ticklish but not unpleasant and he makes no attempt at freeing his wrists. If the hungry look in his eyes if anything to go by, Jaskier is rather pleased by the new position. "I've never heard any complains before about the way I handle your sword. I can only get better with more practice."
It's an easy joke and the bard has a shit-eating grin on his face but Geralt walked right into that one. Geralt is also earning himself a low, drawn-out moan when his teeth nip at his lover's neck. He doesn't say it out loud but the reassurance that comes with knowing Geralt really doesn't want him to change make Jaskier's eyes go softer, his moans turn into a small sigh.
"I was surprised too than you found me attractive at all." They're so very different, both in body and personality, that he didn't think he could cater to Geralt's interests. Jaskier knows that, for a man, he's on the delicate side of looks. He tries to make it work but it isn't always what men are interested in when their attention turns to their own sex. "We have known each other for a long time, no one knows me like you do. And I know you, Geralt of Rivia."
It's not a boasting statement as it's a comfortable truth he feels like sharing, something he believes. A lot of parts of Geralt's life and what goes on that pretty thick head of his are still a mystery to the bard, yet every day he wants to find out more, understand him better. He doesn't think he will ever get tired of Geralt, he had been fascinated with the man since the first time he spotted him in that tavern. Jaskier shudders under him, offering more of his neck to mark when he tilts his head back, spine arching and body seeking more contact. "That sounds like the opposite of a problem to me."
Jaskier mutters as they stand up, too horny to fully think about the implications. Yes, he's just came only a few minutes ago but his body can never get enough Geralt's touch, his attention. All the things they don't say with words. As Geralt's hand roam his body, he reaches up to pour water on the white hair and untangle the nods that rolling around the sand might have caused, then brushing off the sand on Geralt's shoulders. Without doing much more nod and hum, Jaskier agrees to whatever plans Geralt offer. He can sing and try to get coin with his lute anywhere but the Witcher has more specific monster needs.
"I think we're close to Brugge? I remember seeing more than a few Notice boards around the city the last time I visited. Even if they're not useful to me in any way, you got me into the habit of checking for those everywhere I go."
Geralt might have ended with some of Jaskier's habits, like the touching, but the bard didn't get away unscathed either. He's learned about monsters, about sword care, and much more about horses than he ever cared to know. And he's learned to love all those things too, just like he loves the man who thought them to him.
Once they're clean enough, Jaskier leans in to kiss Geralt one last time and then his hand finds the man's wrist, gently guiding him out of the water once and for all. The brunette eyes their clothes critically, then looks into the distance towards their camp, and finally back to Geralt. "Is it really worth putting on pants and getting them wet if we're going to just take them off in a little while? I'm a firm advocate of the pantless life."
Even when Geralt was trying to keep emotional distance between the two of them, he often woke up with the bard snuggling up to him unconsciously, and he allowed it. He told himself at the time it was to keep the peace and give himself a chance at morning sex, but really, he didn't mind so much. It was alien and odd to him, but not terrible or uncomfortable. And since Jaskier did give in to their lustful urges when they woke up, it was rewarded often enough he got used to it. Now he doesn't need sex to have reasons for touching Jaskier. More often it involves that, yes, but sometimes it'll be something simple like a hand at the small of his back guiding him in a town, a soft murmur into his ear, a tap to his chin whenever he wants Jaskier's full attention on him.
"And I am only focused on you," Geralt responds, confirming and reassuring. "Which I hope you remember the next time we run into Yennefer, because it is inevitable that we will." Destiny is not done with them even if their relationship is on hold due to Geralt's relationship. Their paths will keep crossing and he does not want a repeat of Jaskier's hurt feelings. This time there will be no question of sex between him and Yen, so he hopes that will be the end of any jealousy. Pettiness, possibly, but no jealousy.
He isn't thinking of her at all when he's on top of Jaskier, the water cool on their still heated bodies, the bad welcoming him. "Mmm? Hmmm." Geralt considers instead of immediately assuring Jaskier that of course he finds him attractive. Because it is not an of course situation. Yes, it is obvious that he finds him deeply attractive, considering he can't get his damn hands off him for ten seconds, but it is true they are very dissimilar. And Geralt doesn't really have a 'type,' although the similarities between Yennefer and Jaskier are more than either of them would like to admit to probably. "It wasn't immediate." He knew that Jaskier found him immediately attractive, but Geralt it takes a little longer. "But it is strong. Stronger than me."
His willpower clearly did not win the first trying to stop him from giving in. And that is saying a lot; Geralt is incredibly stubborn. He snorts and shakes his head. "Have you been fucked dry? I have, I don't recommend it." That is the first direct reference Geralt's made to having sex with another man before, outside of acknowledging it wasn't his first time when he offered it to Geralt. But it explains why he has been so shocked at Jaskier's skill in that area; his rare dominant male partner didn't bother with oil or preparation. And for Geralt, that had been fine. It still would be fine if Jaskier fucked him that way, his body is made for pain. But he couldn't do that to Jaskier. He is far more careful with his bard.
Geralt lets Jaskier pamper him, or at least it feels like pampering since he takes care of himself less, rumbling pleasantly when Jaskier untangles his hair. He'd never had anyone wash out his hair when it was covered in blood the way Jaskier did early on. Usually it took a few washes on the road, he didn't have a partner to help him. It's nice. He is content with Jaskier's suggestion of a place to go next. "A good town will have an area to practice in too." With dummies that Jaskier can hit instead of being twitchy about hitting Geralt. Win-win.
"You stay naked." Jaskier's clothes are the ones that are wet. Geralt picks them up for him, courteously, and hands them over. He pauses. On one hand, he really does not want to run the risk of someone literally catching him with his pants off. On the other, he is definitely going to have them off sooner or later as Jaskier just said. "Pantless for now," he says, giving in. Jaskier wins more of these questions than he loses these days.
"But if you bend over I am not responsible for what happens." As if they don't both know what will happen and as if Jaskier won't do it intentionally. Geralt kisses the top of Jaskier's head affectionately. "One of these days someone's going to catch us." Someone who will try to take advantage. And then Geralt will beat them senseless and slit their throat, depending on who it is, so it's not a real concern of his. He wants to grumble that's all.
Jaskier didn't need to lie to himself about why he wanted the proximity, not before and not now, but the morning sex has always been a big plus. He's pretty much down to sex at any given moment because there's something about Geralt that makes the need under Jaskier's skin stir and purr, his fingers twitch with the urge to touch, and his mouth water with the wish to lick and bite. There are moments, of course, where he just wants to lie down with his lover, tired after walking all day, performing for patrons, or due to the stress of worrying about Geralt's contracts. The Witcher doesn't have Jaskier's issues, doesn't get tired as quickly as his weaker human lover, but he's a considerate partner and has never pushed Jaskier into doing anything he wasn't ready for. The bard doesn't know how he got this lucky. Not even the mention of Yennefer is enough to sour his current mood although it makes his smile lose its brightness.
"I'll try to behave." It's all he can promise, though, because it's easier to be civil when she's not around and much harder to chase away the doubts when she's close to Geralt. "Contrary to popular belief, I do not hate her."
Jaskier does not, honestly, and he is aware of how important Yennefer is to Geralt. He just hates how she makes him feel, insecure and weak and pathetic. So, so human. When the bard is surrounded by a powerful witch and the best man he's ever known, he can't measure up. And there's her complicated story with Geralt, the past intimacy and the unbreakable bond they share. The mess with the djinn was Jaskier's fault, after all, Geralt was right about that when he yelled at him on the mountain.
Geralt answering in hums manages to bring him back to the present, pulls an amused huff from his own lips. He wonders where he learned the language of grunts and muttering so well that he can pinpoint with more or less proper accuracy what the white-haired man is trying to convey with them.
"It never is, with me." Immediate, he means. It comes out rather flatly, Jaskier is very aware of all his faults and strength and one list is far, far longer than the other. Geralt admitting that he still can't fight the attraction gets Jaskier to hum back at him, more at ease after knowing that. It lasts until Geralt talks about his past sex experiences.
Jaskier says nothing, not sure if talking would make the confession better or worse, but his face goes on a journey in the sparse of a few seconds. There isn't shock but there's a flash of anger in his eyes at the confirmation that Geralt's had less than stellar past bedfellows, treating him without the consideration any person deserves. Understanding follows and he winces slightly in sympathy. Having inconsiderate partners hasn't been uncommon for him either and while he welcomes Geralt's brusqueness and enjoys their rough sex, it's because it comes from a place of mutual trust. His hand starts, almost unconsciously and on its own accord, to move slowly through Geralt's hair, nails brushing over the scalp in a comforting and pleasant way. Who the gesture is meant to comfort, it would be up for debate.
"That's not happening again." The iron in Jaskier's voice seems to surprise even the bard, eyes widening for a moment before he glances at Geralt as if to assert that reaction. He knows the Witcher can take care of himself but at the same time, Jaskier knows he's shitty at REALLY taking care of himself when others are involved. Jaskier's words are a promise, protective ane possessive, and he hopes that Geralt won't take it the wrong way. He grumbles something under his breath about shitty partners that deserve to be flayed alive and nuzzles Geralt, burrowing his nose under the man's perfect chin and covering his throat with little kisses. He sucks a light mark there before they part and go to retrieve their clothes.
"I didn't think of that. I guess other people will get to see me embarrass myself. Yay." The tone is light despite the self-deprecating statement. Training against dummies would be much better for Jaskier's blood pressure that being constantly on edge about hitting Geralt. A grin is playfully playing on his lips when the Witcher gives in and then handles him the clothes, getting a 'thank you, darling' in return. Jaskier holds them in front of him to offer a modicum of decorum but he makes no promises about keeping himself in check. It's already hard not to reach out for Geralt again when he kisses him so sweetly.
"Then I pity them." The brunette looks as happy as a clam, without an ounce of regret, and then chuckles as they get moving. "We are going to scandalize Roach."
As if they didn't already do all the possible improper things by the poor mare's vicinity. They're lucky she's soused to the sounds of monsters fights that she doesn't startle at the screams of rutting men. By the time they reach their camp the horse is munching on a nearby patch of green grass, only lifting her head briefly to stare at them. Jaskier swears she gives them a judgy look and makes a mental note to offer Roach a carrot later once he is actually wearing proper clothing. For now, he blows her a kiss and waves his hand as if to say hello. He's looking over his shoulder at Geralt a moment later with clear intentions in his eyes, then disappearing into their shared tent. His clothes are left forgotten next to his lute and he quickly grabs for the small vial of oil they keep for this kind of occasions, leaving it next to their bedroll and rearranging the blankets so everything is more comfortable to lie on. Geralt can't be far behind unless he's double-checking their surroundings to make sure they're safe.
"I'm not bending over." Jaskier rumbles, pitching his voice a little lower and dripping with want when he hears him enter.
Technically, he's not, as Geralt warned, but it's not for lack of wanting. He's lying on his stomach, the arch of his back and the curve of his ass on display, chin resting on his forearms and eyes darkening in the now low light. There's a glint of amusement in them too as he turns to look at Geralt, baring his throat and spreading his legs a little. They're long and lean from years of following Geralt around on foot. Jaskier doesn't do more than that, staying put even as his heartbeat starts to speed up, pulse thrumming under his skin, because he wants Geralt to do as he pleases, wants to reward all that patience affection with some submission of his own. A whine builds in the back of his throat the longer the other man doesn't touch him, so it's hard to stay still.
Sex is great but it isn't high on Geralt's list of importance, thus why he's in the past gone months without it without being concerned. Eventually, it pent up, but it took time. They have sex frequently but he is just as content to wrap the bard up in his arms and listen to his heartbeat. Geralt doesn't sleep much himself, not even now, he doesn't tire the same way. They truly are a partnership. One of these days Jaskier will begin to slow down, they have time before that, but it won't fundamentally change anything between them. Geralt will still be in his arms and by his side, until it is no longer possible. That is a future problem. Their intimacy is what is lasting.
"Just remember, I already chose you," Geralt reminds him patiently. If Jaskier gets nervous about Yennefer, there really is no need to. The witcher chose him even before they became a couple, and their relationship has made him very content with his pick. Yennefer is many things but calming is not one of them. He would never lie and say that he lacks feelings or desire for her, it's not like Geralt to be deceptive, but his devotion is to Jaskier. She was the first person who pointed that out to him, and therefore she knows to leave it be. But that won't stop her from poking at Jaskier to get a rise, no doubt. Geralt will sigh and try to stay out of it, let the cattiness get itself out.
Geralt won't argue about Jaskier having flaws but he cups Jaskier's face affectionately. "People fear me more than anything else." Perhaps it takes people time to feel real things for Jaskier, but he has many lovers and Geralt has mostly had to pay for sex. He's an intimidating figure. Jaskier lusted after him right away, which he smelled and found puzzling, as it is hardly the first response most humans have toward him.
He looks slightly puzzled at Jaskier's vehemence and kisses the top of his head soothingly. He doesn't want or need him to be upset on Geralt's behalf. The witcher has taken no hurts that he hasn't asked for or given permission for. He didn't at the time know of an easier way, but now he does, and that is appreciated. "We are always far more considerate, so no, it is not happening." And he will likely do better if in the future he decides to be with a man again, although he doubts it, after he loses Jaskier. Geralt cannot imagine allowing anyone else to be in him after he's experienced it this way. So it is of no concern.
"You won't be embarrassed. Everyone starts from somewhere." Geralt did. It's not as if he knew how to hold a sword from childhood. He doubts Roach cares much, having been so calm regardless of what is around her. Geralt watches Jaskier and knows exactly what he's doing, but he does pause and take a quick look around. He hears animals in varying positions around them, but nothing dangerous. He would know the sound of hoofbeats from a long distance away. He is satisfied for now that they have their privacy. But he sets his clothes down right outside the tent, easy for him to roll out and put them on quickly before any attack.
The sight that greets him is very appealing and goes straight to his cock. Geralt lets his eyes take his fill, appreciating the lean body and curve of his ass. He growls when Jaskier looks at him and spreads his legs, instantly moving forward so Jaskier doesn't have to whine for long. Geralt gets on his knees behind him and first simply reaches out to stroke a hand down the long plane of Jaskier' s form. The curve of his spine, squeezing and appreciating his ass, back up his body to run fingers through his hair and then tighten them sharply in his hair. He jerks tightly, tugging the way he knows Jaskier likes. He puts a hand under Jaskier's stomach and lifts, encouraging him to go on his hands and knees.
Geralt rocks his hips forward to rub his cock between Jaskier's cheeks, letting him feel him grow inch by inch due to the friction and his growing lust. "My submissive bard," he growls softly in approval. He picks up the oil and spills enough of it on his hand to start opening Jaskier, and he takes his time with it even if he's hungry, not starving yet. He knows Jaskier likes to be slowly prepared, his fingers curling inside of him to tease at his prostate. "Tell me how much you want it. Beg."
Jaskier is still on that phase of the relationship where he can't keep his hands to himself. It might last for a while, he's never had a long-lasting relationship. More often than not he doesn't know what to do with himself from how happy it makes him to have someone who will hold him without second intentions, someone who will comfort him if he gets himself hurt or frightened.
"I won't forget." For a man who hasn't an easy time handling his own emotions, Geralt does a fantastic job of keeping Jaskier's ones in check. The reminder is enough to soothe him and squash any doubts that might have been lingering. Geralt did choose him and he keeps doing it every day instead of disappearing. They have also talked about the future, even if it was over what worries and pains could bring.
Jaskier leans into the touch to his face and then closes his eyes at the kiss to his hair, his own hand reaching out to rest on Geralt's chest, palm over his heart. He chose the Witcher 20 years ago, and he would do it all over again. If he had the blessing of living for a thousand years, he'll love him for a thousand more. He knows that lust and want have a scent, just like rage and fear do, but he never asked Geralt if love smells any different. It's not a concept they share with words, so he doesn't want to bring it up, but the bard is curious.
"Good." If in the future Geralt decides to be with a man again, Jaskier expects him to at least be careful, to put his needs first. He doesn't want Geralt to be forever miserable once they're no longer together, and he wouldn't demand the Witcher to stay faithful to a dead man, to his memory. The world keeps turning and they have to move on, treasure what they have, the good memories, and keep on living. Jaskier might be jealous in life but he would not be that selfish in death.
With that cleared and the issue of training settled, he goes on his way and waits for Geralt. He's practically purring at the Witcher once their eyes meet inside the tent and the man growls in return. Strong hands start caressing him like they did dozen of times before but with Geralt, it always sets his nerves alight as if it's the first time. Jaskier loses his train of thought at the hair pulling, breath hitching and cock hardening between his legs, made it obvious when Geralt prompts him to stand on his fours. The burn of the grip spreads down his spine, gets Jaskier to mewl. He gives a full-body shudder when the man's cock slides between his cheeks, hot and fat and hard. The muscles in his thighs quiver but he spreads them a little more, making it easier for the cockhead to brush over his sensitive rim.
Eyes closed shut, Jaskier gives a high pitched keen at Geralt's voice. It carries the wicked tone that means he’s going to take him apart until Jaskier is a breathless, fucked out mess.
"Y-yes. Yours." He's panting and trying to find more of his voice when Geralt slides a slicked finger inside him, body tight but acclimating to the intrusion with ease. He needs more, anything, everything Geralt can give him.
"Geralt, I wan...n-need..." He gives a weak moan, tries again. The teasing just makes his cock harder and he rocks his hips back against Geralt's fingers in small jerking motions. "I want to be split open on your cock, for the love of a...fuck, please."
Love is a confusing concept that he isn't always sure about. He knows that he cares a great deal for Jaskier, values him, treasures him, but Geralt has never had love toward him, so feeling it toward others is a question mark. Everything special between them is simply new to him. He's never been in a relationship. He's never had a lover this consistent for a long time. He's never shared every part of his life with someone else. He thinks it is likely that these strong feelings he has for the bard are equivalent to love, so it isn't that he is against the idea. It's new. He hesitates from using the word because the meaning escapes him, but he always prefers showing Jaskier how he feels rather than telling him.
He wouldn't say that love smells different, but the way Jaskier touches him is. His actions are. The beat of his heart is different with Geralt than with others. He reads him in many other ways, and they all say that he is loved, however confusing that might be for him. Their relationship is special and because of that, he doesn't know if it is something he will want again. Losing people is easier without connection. It may not be a shut door after Jaskier, but it will not be a wide open one either.
Geralt stays on his knees behind Jaskier and fits his body against him, making a content almost-purr sound with how quickly Jaskier opens up to him. "Yes, mine." He caresses his fingers through Jaskier's hair, pulling it again at the same time as he thrusts two big fingers into him, plunging them deep. He lets the strands go and moves around to run up his arms, satisfied they will hold him up for now. His fingers find Jaskier's nipple and pinches it, rolling the bud between the rough pad of his thumb. "So eager for me, aren't you?"
He fucks Jaskier with his fingers, judging from the desperate rock backs of his lover that he needs more and soon. Geralt frankly enjoys watching, and he decides that he wants to see more. As per usual he doesn't warn Jaskier when he intends to move him, he just moves him, pulling his fingers out and turning the bard onto his back. "I want to see your face." Geralt stays sitting up and pulls Jaskier's legs up, resting them against his shoulders. He doesn't plan on pinning him down using his arms like he ordinarily does, instead letting his hungry eyes travel over Jaskier's exposed body and flushed face. They can see each other fully this way. He couldn't do that when Jaskier's legs were wrapped around his neck earlier. Geralt grabs Jaskier by the hips and tugs him, lifting his ass so it settles comfortably into the cradle of Geralt's groin.
He slicks himself up and slides into Jaskier like he was born to be there. Sometimes it feels like Jaskier was made for this, to be his, to be taken like this. Geralt groans, eyes closed for a moment, filling him up as wet heat surrounds him. He turns his head to kiss Jaskier's ankle nearby sweetly, running the nearby hand up and down the leg pressed against his chest. He doesn't go straight to pounding Jaskier into the ground, although he'll do that soon enough. Geralt's been a little better at starting out slow, breaking Jaskier apart in pieces instead, his deep thrusts not as frantic.
His gaze travels openly appreciating Jaskier, snapping his hips forward a little sharper and then slowing it down again. "Touch yourself." Geralt likes when Jaskier's eyes are on him in a sexual way, he's put himself on display plenty of times, and he is now too. All muscle, white hair wet from the water and soon from sweat as well, plastered in part to his forehead. He bites his lip, wanting to bite Jaskier's instead, but then he wouldn't be able to look at him. And the intent stare says he wants that. His own hands are busy, one on Jaskier's leg and the other on his hip, but Jaskier's hands are free.
"Touch your nipples first, then your cock." It's like him to be demanding in more than just tossing him around, but the heat in golden eyes has no interest in arguments. He licks his lips, driving into Jaskier hard with a grunt and then going back to shallow thrusts. "Looks good."
Love is a terrifying concept too. To bare your heart to someone, leaving your fears behind and the vulnerabilities upfront, trusting them not to crush it. Jaskier tried it once, on a mountain. It didn't go as expected. That was then and this is now, they made up for the past mistakes, they have changed and moved on, but there's still a small part of Jaskier that's terrified of pushing too far. He would lie if he said that the wound Geralt left is now a scar but the man has done his very best to try and make him forget about it. And Jaskier knows with certainty that he can't be happy without Geralt.
His moan is full and throaty when the warmth weight of Geralt's body presses against his own. Mine, the Witcher confirms, and the words had never been truer. His, and no one else. A hiss escapes the bard's lips when a pair of fingers are pushed into him to the last knuckle. They add to the growing pressure pooling on his lower belly, heat spreading from his chest down to his dripping cock. His head tips forward once there's no hand gripping his hair, back arched and thighs trembling, taking whatever his lover gives him.
Jaskier bits his bottom lip, cheeks warm as Geralt works him open and plays with his nipples, earning himself a moan. The witcher seems to be enjoying this as much as Jaskier is, and the bard briefly wonders if showing Geralt the concept of delayed gratification hadn't been a mistake. The man can be a terrible tease, playing his body like an instrument. He can't really be mad, going dizzy with the feel of Geralt's warm breath close to his earlobe, calling him out on his desperate need to be filled. He wants to articulate a reply and only manages some desperate pleas, in elder speech of all things, because Jaskier's brain is turning to mush. Sparks of pleasure run up his back, hips tilting deeper as Geralt breaches him, undoes him with only his hands and voice.
He never forgets just how strong Geralt can be but being so casually turned on his back takes Jaskier by surprise every single time. "Yes, please, yes. I always like seeing your eyes." Jaskier cries out, voice a weak moan, thick with want as Geralt hitches a trembling leg over his shoulder. Geralt's whole body makes him go delirious with pleasure but it's the golden eyes that ground him, the want he sees in them what makes Jaskier go breathless.
He's desperate for more skin contact and his hands feel up Geralt's biceps, the sweat-damp skin strong as steel under his palm, and then he's clutching at the shoulders, digging his nails in. He writhes beneath the bigger man, half gone with desperation by the time Geralt finally, finally, holds his hips and slides into his body, where he belongs.
Jaskier gives a shuddering breath and moans out Geralt's name, back arching and hips doing little desperate twitches, feeling the hot pressure of the thick cock inside him. His eyes are half-lidded, hazy already, the messy hair falling over his forehead and a shy smile spreading on his lips when Geralt kisses his ankle and caresses his other leg. He has been expecting the man to go at it hard and fast, and the surprising sweetness it's even more effective at making the bard keen, a blush blooming across his cheeks.
"Gera ahalt..." Jaskier croons, voice turning into a choked scream after the blunt push, but following the commands immediately. He keeps his eyes locked on Geralt's even as his hands start to wander over his chest. "You feel so fucking big inside me, so perfect."
Putting out a show for Geralt sends a thrill through his gut and Jaskier does his best to ignore his throbbing cock, curved and leaking over his lower belly. The pad of his thumb and index fingers pinch and rub in tight little circles at his left nipple. The right-hand wanders from the bony curve of his hip, brushing over Geralt's fingers there on purpose, to later slide over his taut stomach and up. The palm moves over his other nipple, getting Jaskier to clench around Geralt's cock at the sensation.
After that, fingers dance over the clavicle and splay upon the curve of his neck when Jaskier tilts his head back, exposing it further as Geralt grinds down into him. The hand repeats the movements on its way down, winding him tight with tension and rippling pleasure, fingers finally sliding around his untouched cock, giving it a squeeze. And then Jaskier really can’t control the noises he’s making or the way his body is clutching at Geralt's hardness whenever he pulls out like it doesn’t want to let go.
Geralt tries not to think about the mountain. It was one of the worst days of his life for a variety of reasons and at the time he wanted to burn everything good in his life. He wanted to strip away his hurts and let himself bleed out until it all scabbed over, so he pushed Jaskier away. But he regretted it immediately. He longed for him. He cares for Yennefer and their fight hurt him so badly he acted poorly, but it was losing Jaskier that really devastated him.
So he has been trying to make sure his bard knows that he cherishes him. That he appreciates him and he doesn't treat him like a nuisance he tolerates on the road. He treats him like a treasured companion, and now that they're together, more than that too. The inevitability of their parting is not fresh in his mind, and they're this by choice. Yen never needed him and he respects her independence, but he loves that Jaskier does need him. They need one another. It's a true partnership. He didn't expect that having such fierce emotional intimacy would unlock so much in his heart, but it has.
It's why Geralt wants to see his face and enjoy this bout together. He smiles fondly when Jaskier says he likes his eyes; his eyes make him decidedly not human. Most people look at that gold and find it unsettling. He doesn't like eye contact in certain situations, but he is relaxed and in charge now and his gaze is heated. Watching Jaskier move and react to his thrusts feels almost as good as the heat wrapping around his cock. "He blushes," Geralt teases, having already told Jaskier he likes it when he blushes. They've done so many lustful things together, it's such an oddity.
"Mmm, and you're perfectly tight." Geralt watches Jaskier touch his body, his eyes locked in on the bard's hands. "You look so fucking good." When Jaskier's got his fingers on his nipples, pinching them the way Geralt would, he licks his lips, wanting them on those little beads. Another time. Then Jaskier's clenches and he groans loudly, unexpectedly, having been so caught in lusting after his partner. He thrusts forward hard in response, rocking into him fiercely for a few strokes, growling. This gets no better when Jaskier finally touches himself and Geralt's practically drooling watching him. His mouth fills with saliva and he swallows. "Fuck, you own me, you know that? You've got me wrapped around your finger."
It used to worry him, frustrate him at times, because it's not exactly new. Geralt wasn't obvious about it before, but he did often give into the bard. The pouts were quite successful against him. He's had a soft spot for years. "I'd do anything for you." Geralt knows something important about Jaskier and their sex: the bard loves it when he's sweet. When he says nice things, especially true ones, when it's adoring mixed with desire. Geralt prefers it rough and wild, but he knows his Jaskier. They can both get it. Jaskier gets eye contact and Geralt kissing his ankle, biting his calf since he can't have his neck, murmuring that he wants him. All the while Geralt gets to finally let loose.
He moves his hands to Jaskier's knees and spreads them wider, holding them up and Jaskier's body in his grasp so he gets full fein of slamming into Jaskier's beautiful willing body. He likes to make him helpless and to see him split apart, ridden hard. He's been enjoying their bouts into softer sex, but he'll never lose his love for this, seeing Jaskier scream and cling to him desperately as the pleasure burns through his own body. "I like seeing your eyes too. Fuck I would live inside of you if I could, point your cock at me, I want you to come on me."
He can smell Jaskier's release coming and he snarls, looking right at him with eyes that seem to glow at the height of his hunger like this when he keeps thrusting himself into Jaskier even through his own orgasm, taking every extra second of it that he can.
He knows that Geralt appreciates him and his talents. Even before they started sleeping together the Witcher has made it clear that he wanted him in his life while. Most of the time he was still his usual silent self -and in all honesty, Jaskier would have been freaked out or suspected that Geralt might have been a doppler in disguise if he started acting that much different from before - but there were nuances. Geralt was more patient, more mindful that his word could hurt, more accomodating of the bard's oddities and dramatic outbursts. And so Jaskier got a little bolder around him, which lead to their first night together. All's well that ends well, they say.
And now it's impossible for the bard to keep his hands to himself on a daily basis, to not want to touch, to taste, to kiss and nip. To both give and take all the pleasure he can out of Geralt. Pleasure that doesn't always have to be physical. Jaskier loves the Witcher's dry sense of humor in the rare times it comes to light, even if it's at his expense. Talking to Geralt it's always interesting, either helping him learn more about the man, the monsters he fights or the nature of humanity. He also enjoys playing with the white hair, when allowed, or sitting close by, snuggle up to Geralt and watch the starry sky when they camp outside. He's shared his thoughts, his life, his art and his body with Geralt for so long that it's become as natural as breathing. Maybe it's the poet in him, but Jaskier believed that a life without Geralt in it is one where some part of his soul is missing.
His heart speeds up when Geralt smiles at him after complimenting his eyes and Jaskier can see that the other man truly believes him, that he knows the bard isn't offering empty charming words.
"Oh, hush." The bard throws and arm over his eyes, embarrassed further by the words and being a touch dramatic. It doesn't last, it can't when he enjoys looking at Geralt's so much, and one of his eyes is peering back at the man soon enough from under his forearm. It feel good, though, to be able to joke and pester each other during sex too. It's shows how well they know each other, how comfortable they are.
After the brutish, deep shove that hits his sweet spot, Jaskier chokes out a shrill sound, moaning Geralt's name and rolling his hips up for more. The Witcher's cock is so perfect, every inch of it, girthy and hard, rubbing against his inner muscles and nudging his walls in all the right ways. Jaskier considers it a miracle that he hasn't fully lost his mind about it but he knows that he acts like a bitch in heat once they get lost into their lovemaking. He's meeting the Witcher's thrust for thrust as much as he can in the position he's in, splaying out his legs so the movement gets Geralt deeper. How the man expects him to be capable of speech is beyond Jaskier, but there's something he needs to say in response to Geralt's statement.
"It goes b-both ways. You're my partner. I'd be lost without you." It's not an exaggeration either. He thought he had lost Geralt forever once and life turned bleak, empty and lonely. His lover is his, just much as every part of Jaskier belongs to Geralt.
The smaller man shivers at the kiss to his ankle and the praising words. Jaskier's eyes flash with lust, a spark form something born out of being wanted, being appreciated like this, and he arches his back, clamping tight around Geralt's dick. His free arm moves, no longer covering half of his face, and a hand buries into this own hair, finger pulling at the chestnut locks. His breathing speeds up, the muscles of his stomach tightening. Words of appreciation are his own brand of dirty talk, he shouldn't be surprised that Geralt had him figured out so quickly. He also enjoys the lewd comments and filthy suggestions, all get his blood to run hotter, but this, oh. This sweetness undoes him.
Geralt's thrusts, now hard and fast, feel like heaven and his demand seals the deal. Jaskier’s heart is beating heavily in chest, threatening to claw its way out as he stares at Geralt wide eyes for a second. His scent will linger on Geralt's skin long after the man scrubs clean the cum from his body. He's learned that from all those the times in the past that the Witcher had marked him instead and then looked smug the next day. The bard knows what is being offered. Geralt's nose will sense him even if Jaskier does not, marking him as his own. The new position and how fast Geralt is moving makes Jaskier's tight body open up for him, be at his mercy, and he won't last much longer.
"Will you finish in me? I want you to, Geralt, please. It feels so good when you fill me up."
He moans, a deep, guttural tone that echoes around them, his thighs shaking and his hand working on himself, gripping as his cock and guiding it to Geralt's stomach as he pumps. A familiar tension spreads across his body and tears prick in Jaskier’s eyes when he comes, shouting Geralt's name like it’s a sacred prayer, ropes of white painting his lover's chest and flat stomach. He cries out even louder as Geralt's fucks him through it, the man's rhythm becoming frantic and erratic from his own release. And yet, he can't break his eyes away from Geralt's, the look so intense and the glint in those golden eyes so, so gorgeous.
Jaskier keeps tightening himself around Geralt until they're both spend, his moans quieting to mewling sounds, small and satisfied. The hand that was tightening on his hair falls to the blanket, next to his head, the other slides up Geralt's bicep, seeking even more contact. The familiar wet, hot feeling of Geralt's seed inside him leaves him sated and heavy-limbed.
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
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"You said I couldn't do that in public! Who's going to hear us around here? The forest creatures? The insects? I'm sure any fawn within earshot won't blush upon learning about your fat prick."
It will pain him to admit it out loud right now but Jaskier appreciates the fact that Geralt takes good care of his clothes and shoes, leaving them in a safe place to dry. Stupid man, always finding ways to be charming. The laugh doesn't help, it's such an odd occurrence, like meeting a unicorn. Something that will never happen to Jaskier outside his dreams because his virtue is long, long gone. Seeing Geralt standing in all his naked full glory, the bard is easily reminded the reason why he can't meet unicorns.
"Show off." It's only muttered under his breath but Jaskier has no doubt Geralt will hear him, he could probably hear him while on a different forest. Damn, but the bastard looks good standing close, with water running down his body and the sunlight catching on the droplets in his hair. Jaskier could compose songs for a year after this gorgeous image alone. His eyes darken as he looks at Geralt, pupils blown with interest, lust spiking and fingers itching to touch. Jaskier knows that he probably looks like a drowned hare in comparison. Lifting his arms, he makes it easier for the Witcher to help him out of the soaked shirt and then raises his eyebrows.
"I suspected you were taking a peek. Pervert." And if that isn't the most ironic statement of the century coming from Jaskier, absurd on many levels, they have seen each other naked plenty of times. But if Geralt is in a mischievous mood then Jaskier is playing hard to get.
The younger man still wants to reach out and run his fingers through the wet, long hair, as he does so often. Geralt is being sweet and flirty and he's not prepared for that kind of assault, it's a combo that shouldn't exist, for his sanity. Jaskier can't even be mad when Geralt mentions his pout because he makes it sounds like an honest compliment and he has no doubts that it is one. And then it's his turn to laugh. "Very tempting. But it's not as satisfying if you let me. Where's the challenge?"
Jaskier smiles and leans back, trying to relax his muscles and letting the water keep him afloat, his body growing weightless. They should have come to the spring sooner instead of sweating on their clothes all morning. Staring at Geralt and fighting the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, Jaskier lifts his right leg towards him, long and paler under the water. His toes slide up and wiggle playfully over Geralt's hip.
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He really does like the way Jaskier looks at him. It makes him feel desirable, something Geralt in general does not really see himself. He doesn't preen the way a peacock like Jaskier might, but he does stand a little straighter, showing off his muscles and tall build. Jaskier does not look like a drowned hare, although his hair is a bit floppy after a surprise dip. But he also looks good wet and Geralt wants to lick the water beads off of his skin.
"I like looking at you," he confirms unashamedly about being a pervert. If Jaskier needs reassurance that the witcher wants him, there it is. Geralt probably likes his ass most of all, not only because being inside of it is heaven, but it's very pert and nice to pinch. When Jaskier floats near to him, resting on the surface of the water, he takes Jaskier's foot and tugs him gently closer. He stands to the side so he can simply look his fill down at Jaskier, now a feast in front of him.
He trails a finger down Jaskier's body, not applying any weight so he can keep floating, a single stroke from his clavicle down to the tip of his cock and then away. "The first time you seduced me we were wet." In a bath though, not a spring, and it was steamy for more than one reason. Geralt takes advantage to move his hand under Jaskier and run his fingers over his ass cheeks, squeezing gently. "I told myself to fuck you impersonally from behind and not stay in bed with you after, to keep things clear between us, and failed miserably."
Geralt is amused about that, and apparently feeling like sharing. He shares a little more every time he feels inspired to, something that is new to him. That first time he not only fucked Jaskier once face-to-face, kissing him senseless, but twice, and the second time he let Jaskier ride him in a very personal way. And then he stayed in bed with him, allowing Jaskier to snuggle into his side. "I was impressed you got up the courage to seduce me. I didn't think you would dare." But he should have known better. The bard dares many things. It's acknowledgment he knew Jaskier wanted him though, for far longer than that night, but assumed it would keep quiet.
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So much has changed in a few months, and while Jaskier has sometimes called Geralt 'my witcher' when they're alone, this is the first time the possessiveness is returned, voiced loud and clear. It makes his chest tighten in the best of ways. Int eh past he has only gotten a similar sensation each time Geralt growled or glared at the townfolk who got a bit too close to the bard during a performance or once the show was over. They clapped him in the shoulder, invited him to a tankard of ale, or made an attempt at flirting. He doesn't pay attention to the later anymore but hell if it doesn't get the best reactions out of Geralt. Jaskier has grown ever more fond of being bitten and pushed against walls to get his whole self devoured by the White Wolf. He ends walking a bit funny the next day but it's worth the sense of pleased satisfaction they both get, claiming and being claimed. Fucking like rabbits in a bathtub count as seducing just fine for Jaskier too but he's amused at Geralt's wording. He considers himself really lucky that they worked things out because on his part that was a long wish fulfilled. Not just to have sex with Geralt but to actually get him to stay in bed with him afterward, as the man pointed out. What a night, that first one.
He likes Geralt. He likes Geralt for who he is and what he does for people who rarely deserve his kindness and time. And Jaskier would like Geralt even if the man were covered from head to toe in scars, in burn marks, if his hair and eyes were a different color or if he lost all his muscles. Geralt would still be Geralt, the person he fell in love with. It's a stupidly romantic thought, as it happens with artists, one that Jaskier doesn't voice but he tries to show with looks and actions.
"I can't stay mad at you when you say things like these, damn it." The bard's musical voice gets a little strained at the end, emotion choking his throat. It's really not fair how easy Geralt words can undo him when he uses them. That coupled with the way the Witcher reaches for him, caresses and squeezes him like he's something precious and attractive, makes it crystal clear to Jaskier that he will care for no other the same way his heart beats for Geralt.
The brunette straightens in the water, pulling his foot way from Geralt to properly move close to him and press their chest against each other, wrapping an arm around the well-defined waist. His hand reaches out for Geralt's and places it back on his right cheek so the Witcher can keep groping at his ass. There, perfect.
"These days you can fuck me personally from behind or any other way you want. I'd call it an improvement." Lifting his chin, Jaskier nuzzles their noses closer, brushes their lips together. "High risk, high reward. If you are expecting me to regret it you'll get old waiting."
His hands slide down the small of Geralt's back, over the perfect perky gloves, and he gives the man's arse a good squeeze. Jaskier's smile is big infectious and shameless. Kiss me, it says.
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Geralt does say that Jaskier seduced him because the witcher had no intention of making the first move. But he certainly didn't hold back for long once Jaskier made it clear openly that he was hoping to have sex. As if anyone could really seduce or convince Geralt of anything he didn't want. He also is someone who went a long time without sex and was fine with that; his indulgences were pleasant enough. But something in him had to long for more, if he craved Jaskier, if he craved Yennefer. His sexual appetite was moderate otherwise.
"I know you can't," Geralt responds, smug. The pretty words are sincere, but he knows the smallest gestures from him can go a long way. Jaskier wasn't angry with him in the first place; Geralt briefly saw him angry, once, after the Yennefer incident. That didn't last either. Geralt himself has only been irritated with Jaskier, sometimes strongly irritated at him, because true anger would have seen the bard kicked out of his life in a temper. He is slow to that type of real anger, but when it happens, it is vicious and strikes out at anyone nearby. He's kept that within check.
See, Geralt intentionally didn't tug Jaskier into his arms before this, allowing the bard to come to him when he was feeling soft and forgiving again. He keeps that firm grip on Jaskier's ass, given permission after all, and squeezes it again. The other hand cards through Jaskier's hair and tugs it in just the way he likes the most, before smoothing the wet hair back. "Why would I want you to regret it?" Geralt may regret it, someday, not now, especially not when things are so good between them, but inevitably. He isn't letting that run his life though. He would hesitate from calling himself happy, but contentment for him is practically the same thing.
Geralt nuzzles him, teasing even now, brushing their lips together so gently but stopping before it gets serious. He waits until Jaskier really wants it, until he leans in trying to get more, and then he kisses Jaskier with that direct heat that's all his. He tugs Jaskier's hair and then tilts his head to the side, letting his mouth move down the slope of the bard's neck, licking the water off, biting him.
His hand moves from that nice ass of his around and wastes no time in getting around Jaskier's cock, starting to stroke it slowly to bring it to life. "I've been an awful, wretched man." Geralt murmurs into Jaskier's wet skin, sucking just underneath his ear. It's the exact words he flung at him while pouting a few moments ago. "Maybe when we're done here, you can punish me for it." Geralt assumes by now Jaskier understands; he knows the witcher likes his ass being slapped and they can't do that in the water.
He doesn't plan on moving yet, sliding his hand faster on Jaskier's cock, biting Jaskier's pouty bottom lip and looking at him with sharp golden eyes. He smirks. "Would you like me to demonstrate how strong I am?"
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The bard doesn't have the same issues about privacy. He doesn't like to be interrupted, of course, that's why he favors bedrooms and tents but if passion or possessiveness strikes, any shadowed area is good enough for him. It's exciting, the chance of being caught and how riled up Geralt gets if someone else tries to put the moves on the bard. He appreciates the fact that Geralt cares enough to be jealous and it's not unknown to the Witcher that Jaskier is a green-eyed monster when other people - and a certain witch - puts the moves on his wolf. Geralt might not see himself as desirable but he is very, very wrong in that perception and Jaskier will happily remind him every day that he's a feast for the eyes.
Jaskier would be hard-pressed to say what came upon him that night when he decided to make his interest a little bit more obvious. Maybe finally the planets aligned the right way because he had considered saying something sooner and always chickened out at the last minuted. It had been going on for years and he had given up on Geralt even getting the less than subtle hints. And then it just...happened.
"Don't look so smug about it." Jaskier slaps him on the chest, which turns into an excuse to fondle Geralt because why not. He's allowed to and the Witcher has some great, firm knockers and the bard is a weak man when those are involved. It's true that he can't stay angry for long, not at Geralt, and he doesn't like hating either. It's not the kind of emotiona he wants to let fester, they makes him too miserable and he's seen the kind of damage anger does to people. There's no place for that in his life.
He is much happier like this, snuggling close to Geralt, feeling each other's bodies, messing around. None of them is anywhere close to teenage years but they can act like them often. The touches to his hair make him hum and close his eyes, arching his back a little to press his ass further against Geralt's palm. There are droplets of water clinging to the long eyelashes brushing his cheeks and Jaskier has never looked happier. They will agree to more training if this is how they are going to unwind once it's all over, the pain will be worth it.
"Good point, it will never happen anyway." The voice is soft but resolute, and the last thing Jaskier says abut it. There will be no worrying about that now, he doesn't want Geralt to start overthinking. The Witcher seems to be busy enough being a tease, pulling away when Jaskier was so sure they were going to kiss and earning himself a small needy moan from the younger man. When he finally has Geralt's mouth where he wants it, he's pliant and receptive, heat spreading down his whole body and starting on their point of contact, tingling on his lips.
His head arches back, offering more neck for Geralt to bite and suck, to mark him. Jaskier's hands bury on his hair, wet strands sliding between the fingers like liquid silk, tugging at it and scratching the scalp. The heart beats faster, adrenaline running, and the bard's breathing starts to come in short pants when a firm hand strokes his cock just the way it makes his toes curl. He had been growing harder by the seconds and now there's no hiding his interest. When Geralt speaks and Jaskier laughs briefly his flat stomach tenses and quivers. He does understand and he will fulfill that unsaid request with delight.
"Very awful, ah, yes. Yes, you might need a lesson..." Leaving the soft tangle of the white hair, Jaskier slides a hand down Geralt's shoulders, leaving thing reddened marks on the skin as he does so. His tongue reaches out to lap at Geralt's mouth after the man bites at his bottom lip. There is something so heavenly about touching each other in the spring, with the water chilling the skin and the kisses setting it on fire. "Hmmm? Yes. Yes. If I ever say no, then it means I'm a doppler."
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The possessiveness is uncontrollable. It is not that he doubts Jaskier's dedication to him, he can tell that no interest is in his partner's blue eyes when other people hit on him. But he has long since accepted that there's a part of him that is more animal than man, and as long as it works for both of them, that's fine. People are far more scared of him than Jaskier; it's very rare anyone is brave enough to hit on him. He can count on one hand how many did.
It is calculated, this little seduction of his; it comes from a sincere place but he also does it as a reward for Jaskier giving into him. His bard didn't just sulk and do the bare minimum, he did genuinely work at it, and it makes Geralt fond. So he kisses Jaskier until moans fall from his lips, his big hands touching him in all the places he enjoys most. He growls low when Jaskier tugs his hair, feeling his nails, biting a little harder.
His heart thuds to an almost very slow human rate, looking forward to that 'lesson.' Geralt lifts his head to look at Jaskier. "You have to trust me and be calm. Hold my hair. And remember where we are." The explanation makes sense only when both of Geralt's hands grab Jaskier by the ass and lifts him. The very first time they had sex Geralt lifted him like he weighed nothing and that hasn't changed. Only this time instead of putting his legs around Geralt's waist, he lifts him even higher until his legs are on top of Geralt's shoulders instead. High in the air, legs balanced or attempted to balance around Geralt's neck, a firm grip on his ass keeping him up. The where they are is in reference to the water; if the worst happens and Jaskier loses balance, all that will happen is hitting the water nearby. It's not as unnerving as worrying about the ground or something harsh.
But he would really have to fight Geralt to get out of his grip. He gives him every reason not to do that by immediately taking advantage of Jaskier straddling his face sideways. He hungrily moves his head and licks Jaskier's hard cock, kissing his way up to the tip and then sucks it right down without any hesitation. This is not the first (or last) time Geralt has full control of Jaskier's body so all he can do is enjoy it, bobbing his head and swallowing Jaskier whole, moaning loudly around his cock.
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The main reason why Jaskier doesn't feel vulnerable with public sex it's because he's doing it with Geralt, who could and would fight whatever creature that gets too close to them with ill intentions. Not like the bard wants interruptions or to see his partner in any kind of danger. The possessiveness is an extra plus and when Jaskier tells Geralt he wants him, he's also including the man's demons, feral tendencies and jagged edges into the equation. Just like Geralt seems to accept Jaskier's own eccentricities, flaws, and annoying habits.
He shudders and gasps under Geralt's ministrations when the Witcher's fingers leave goosebumps in their wake. Jaskier returns the touches with the same devotion and kisses him when he's able, sometimes with urgency, others slowly to savor the moment. It's no secret that the bard thrives on attention but there's something else to Geralt's mood today, how happy or satisfied he seems that Jaskier has taken training seriously that it only convinces the brunette to do better the next time.
Confusion flickers on Jaskier's face when Geralt makes it clear he's about to do something yet he is as vague about it as always. When the bard's scent spikes, it's no doubt in aroused anticipation rather than fear, because this is Geralt what they were talking about. Despite the vote of confidence in his partner, nothing could have prepared him for what Geralt does next, an action that earns a scandalized little cry Jaskier absolutely did not mean and that he will deny fervently if mocked about it. He panics, realizing the position he is in now, and relaxes only when it dawns on him that, if Geralt were to drop him again, the water would cushion his fall. It's an unfounded concern, Geralt has a tight grip on him, a show of strength and determination, and Jaskier's cock throbs almost painfully at the display.
"Fuck, Geralt! Holy s....ohhh, this is so hot. You're incredible. Gods."
Geralt is manhandling him into a whole new, wonderful and gentle way that has him keening. Lust runs hotly through Jaskier's blood, settles hot and heavy in his belly, but he can't help the way his thighs tremble with the effort required to keep himself both upright and bend over Geralt slightly. He knows Geralt is ten times stronger than him but a small part of Jaskier is still self-conscious, worried about the Witcher's neck and shoulder supporting all of his weight.
His voice rises an octave the moment Geralt's traitorous mouth is on him, licking and sucking. Against all logic, the Witcher looks perfectly comfortable in his current position. Musician's hands come up to grasp at the white hair as it has been requested and Jaskier is grateful to have something to hold onto. He's still concerned about hurting Geralt or choking him if he dares to roll his hips. These worries that are pretty much forgotten in a matter of seconds, Jaskier starts praising deities, saying Geralt's name over and over in a low voice as if he's part of the Pantheon, and there are urgent, scattered cries mixed in his vocal adoration.
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Physical vulnerability is not a thing that Geralt knows. He could be balls deep in Jaskier and still probably fight someone. He hopes that is never going to be a problem for them, but it is still an awareness and confidence he needs if he is going to fuck his bard in their campgrounds. Emotional vulnerability is different; he did consider their sex physical and simple in the start. Now he feels things and therefore he's prickly and defensive of it.
He has never been someone who seeks to please someone else, but at the moment, that is all he can think about. He wants to please Jaskier. He wants to taste his come, hear him howl, feel his limbs wrapped around Geralt in desperation. He knows that there is no real warning he can give Jaskier for what he plans, and the bard might have frozen up if he tried, so it was better to simply do it. He huff-laughs when Jaskier gives that scandalized cry; as if the bard can be scandalized! Geralt likes that. It reminds him of those sweet blushes.
This isn't as effortless as Geralt is making it seem. It is requiring finesse and skill more than strength. Any worry Jaskier is having he plans on wiping away entirely by sucking him dry. Overthinking will be impossible if he arouses his bard past it, and Jaskier's a sensual being. He can't control himself for long. He proves just that when he seems to relax and simply feel it. He rumbles around Jaskier's cock when he gets his fingers into Geralt's hair. It helps them both in this position for Jaskier to hold onto something. He smells incredible this close and Geralt takes him so deep it's as if gag reflex isn't a thing he's aware of when this focused and turned on. Then again, with so much control over his body, he can turn on and off just about anything.
It's not an easy position for Jaskier to thrust forward so Geralt does it for him since he can, his hands firmly squeezed on Jaskier's ass, pushing it up as his head comes down and taking him deeper. He spreads the cheeks, teasing his hole with a finger just on the rim but not going inside. Geralt wants to command him to come but that would require taking his mouth off and he's too hungry for that, his tongue rubbing on the underside of Jaskier's cock, circling the tip when his head moves. The aggressive way he's bringing Jaskier to his peak should be obvious enough, with no sign of slowing down, only speeding up.
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Here in the open, they don't have to worry about pissed off innkeepers and Jaskier isn't holding himself back. He couldn't even if he tried, the clamoring thoughts and worries from before entirely forgotten, mind at easy still for at least a little while. A very, very pleasant while. A big part of what's getting him so hot and bothered is the unabashed display of strength. Not just physical power, Jaskier knows Geralt is an unstoppable force, it's also about how sure he is of himself when they have sex and how determined he seems today on making sure Jaskier is enjoying himself plenty.
The bright blue eyes are half-lidded and dark with want, lust and fondness mixed in them, his lips parted just slightly. Jaskier mutters pleased cries and filthy words of encouragement, grabs and gropes at the parts of Geralt he can reach -his hair, the back of the his head- then scratches the small patch of skin between his shoulder blades that isn't framed by his own legs, flushed and wild.
He gets louder the deeper Geralt takes him and once the Witcher starts to help him move his hips Jaskier's eyes roll back in his head. His body clenches, cock throbbing in the tight heat of Geralt’s mouth, and his eyelashes flutter as his partner's name falls from his lips over and over. In the position they're both in, being quick is probably not too shameful, Jaskier hopes. Geralt is doing his damned best to make him lose it, he can tell, and his whole body feels ready to burst, both from affection at how doting Geralt can be to him, and at how fucking sinful his tongue turned out to be. Jaskier doesn't deserve this much adoration, no one ever gave it to him this way before and he points it out between moans, words spilling out of Jaskier's mouth before he can think better of it. There's no way he is going to stare at Geralt's mouth and not remember this day for the rest of his life. From now on the memory will be enough to make him hard and wet, possible at the most inconvenient moment.
"G-Geralt, I can't...I'm going to..." Trembling fingers curl into Geralt's silver- white hair one more time but rather than holding him in place, Jaskier seems to be trying to move the Witcher's head back. He sounds wrecked, voice rough with need, but there's a hint of concern in it as well. He's heaving in startled breaths, his blue eyes now wide and the usually pale cheekbones stained with two spots of pink. "I don't want to choke you when I come...I...fuck...!"
Geralt clearly has other plans, mouth setting an unrelenting pace and no intentions of pulling his tongue away. It makes the bard twitch and shake with the effort of holding himself back, a lost battle. The rough pad of a finger catches on Jaskier's rim and he whimpers hotly. It's only a teasing caress against the sensitive skin but it's enough to send a jolt up his spine, sparking like a firecracker. He screams, a desperate choked-off little keening noise and his body seizes up. The breathing grows unsteady, toes curling against Geralt’s back and his orgasm hits him all at once, like a cord snapping. A shuddering breath followed by a loud whine, little dots dancing before Jaskier's eyes as he digs both of his hands into Geralt's hair.
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Jaskier can be such a livewire when he's turned on like this. He's hot and electric underneath Geralt's grasp and it's been a long time since Geralt wanted silence out of the bard. How can he want silence when he moans so beautifully? He's never heard anyone with a mouth on him like Jaskier. The things he says to him he's never heard before in all his years and every one of them manages to go to his cock because of that. Due to Geralt's imposing dominance, it might be easy to assume he was only a taker, someone absorbed in fucking and the rest only an add-on. It isn't the case. He enjoys giving; there's just as much power in making Jaskier scream like this than splitting him open inside.
Jaskier is trying to warn him and he tries to be reassuring without speaking, squeezing his ass when he speaks as if to say I know, it's fine. If he didn't want Jaskier to come, he would have already put him down. Instead he focuses all his attention on making it happen now that it's clear the bard has accepted he can't stop. He does like Jaskier choking on his cock when he's feeling brutal, so he is fine with it the other way, groaning around him instead. He feels the tremble up Jaskier's body and he's already swallowing by the time Jaskier comes, taking as much of it in as he can.
Geralt is as gentle as ever when he lifts Jaskier again, releasing him from his mouth. He sets the bard's legs down in the water but keeps a strong arm around him in case he's weak-kneed, holding him close. He doesn't mind if Jaskier wants to keep his hands in his hair; it feels good. He's hard himself but in no hurry, the water good to clean Jaskier off. Geralt would have done so with his tongue, but he knows his bard can be sensitive so soon after an orgasm. He reaches down to splash a little water on his own face; he swallowed most of it but there was plenty of saliva and precome to take care of too.
After that he dips his head down to kiss Jaskier deeply; Geralt doesn't kiss in halves or quarters, most of the time they're intense like the rest of him. He likes to get Jaskier a little drunk on him, on his kisses and appetite. He knows from experience neither of them mind tasting themselves on the other's tongue. He ducks his head down to bite Jaskier's neck and then up to his ear. "You can choke me on your cock any time," he rumbles near his ear. If his voice sounds rougher than usual, Jaskier can take credit for that, considering how Geralt deep throated him.
He is still in that playful mood, considering how openly he's flirting. Geralt nibbles on his ear lobe and then steps back, taking Jaskier's hands and leading him into the shallows. He turns and leans a little over, presenting his ass to Jaskier. He knows what he wants and he's not afraid to ask for it. This time his mischief even makes him wiggle it a little at the bard, like he would have done the other way around. "Teach me a lesson, Jask."
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He's sure he makes the most embarrassing noises known to man when he comes but Geralt seems to like him being vocal and Jaskier doesn't try to police himself. It's a rush of adrenaline followed by a sweet crash, leaving him dizzy and loose-limbed, trembly all down his spine. He melts against the man's body when Geralt puts him down gently but still holds him up, grateful for that too because even the cold of the water isn't enough to immediately help him regain the use of his lower limbs. With one hand wrapped around Geralt's neck to keep himself upright, the other plays and tugs the silver-white hair Jaskier's eyes are soft and his smile is calm. He's always surprised about how much Geralt knows about what he likes and what he doesn't, like how sensible Jaskier gets right after sex, and he can only dream about returning the interest with equal enthusiasm.
"Aah, consider me thoroughly impressed with your strength." He's breathless and so grateful for Geralt's attention that he doesn't even joke about using this morning as inspiration for a song. He leans into the kiss eagerly, chuckling briefly against the glimmering lips. They're both beyond caring about these things, Jaskier enjoys kisses almost as he likes singing and they have tasted each other and themselves plenty. He's humming in delight and arching his head back when Geralt goes for his neck next and then lets out a small squeak.
"Oh, ah, that's very good to know. Very good." So much that he reaches down to give Geralt's ass a squeeze. Gods, does Geralt's voice sound good that that, saying filth and promises to him. Now, if the man stopped being so distracting and let him return the attention...his wish is granted the moment Geralt turns, the nickname bringing hunger back to Jaskier's eyes, his spent cock giving a trying twitch. He moves closer to Geralt taking slow steps, enjoying the view, almost like he's prowling.
"You did throw me into the cold water." Jaskier admonishes, voice like molten heat, bringing his hand down in a solid slap against his backside. His other hand curls around Geralt's hip, any other person would then not be allowed to move an inch without his permission and Jaskier is going to play pretend even if he's well aware that Geralt is three times stronger. The key is really making Geralt not want to move away.
"Unforgivable." He chides softly, hand kneading gently into the flesh of Geralt’s arse even as he leans in to mouth at the curve of his shoulder where it meets the neck, teeth sinking into it. It's only a small sting, not nearly close to an attempt at breaking the skin, but it's a promise for more.
The hand on his hips slide down, his front, fingers brushing the happy trail under Geralt's bellybutton, giving a teasingly quick stroke of Geralt's cock before the second slap follows, echoing loudly into the quiet of the forest. Jaskier starts purring complaints that are nothing but veiled praise into Geralt's ears using the same sweet tone and sometimes adding a growly cadence to it. His chest presses over the expanse of Geralt's back and expert fingers roam over his body, sliding over his flank, thumbing and pinching nipples, giving teasing rubs to his cock. And then his hand comes down again, and again and again, until Geralt's right cheeks it's a lovely shade of pink and the skin hot under his palm. Jaskier wants to get on his knees and bite it, wants to lick the droplets of water off of it, lick Geralt everywhere, and he tells the Witcher just that, voice hoarse.
"Would you like me to?" He adds after a second. They're usually attuned enough to read each other desires and needs but he wants to hear Geralt tell him what he wants so it leaves no room for misinterpretation.
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The prowling does things to him. Geralt's golden eyes snap over to Jaskier and he watches him move intently. There's something feline in the way he does, predatory, and the witcher l-o-v-e-s it. He bares his teeth in response to the concept of being prey, but heat surges in his cock from it too. Jaskier's voice is low and in control and Geralt licks his lips, not even provocatively, they just went dry when he spoke. He understands what the hand on his hip means and fully intends to respect the request, gasping out loud when that first slap hits his ass. Perfect.
Geralt could toss him aside like nothing but he likes when Jaskier plays at being dominant too. It makes him feel a type of vulnerable he actually enjoys. He warms underneath Jaskier's confident attention, completely passive in his grasp. He exposes his neck more to Jaskier, moaning softly as his teeth come into play. The interplay between a hand on his cock and then a slap against his skin is enough to make him start to pant in pleasure, eyes fluttering half-closed from the pleasure of it. He lets Jaskier's words and touch wash over him.
He hums in appreciation when he can lean back into Jaskier's chest, leaving himself entirely in the bard's hands as he stimulates his nipples, touches the witcher possessively, owns every inch of his body in a way no one else has. Geralt is in a state of bliss without release, moaning louder with every smack of that hand. His hips jerk forward a little each time, not touching himself or Jaskier. If he touches himself, he'll come, and he likes the idea of letting Jaskier touch all he wants without Geralt's grabby dominant hands trying to move him. He feels that urge in him now, to take over, but it's easy to push aside when he's almost dizzy with arousal.
"Mmmm?" Geralt responds dreamily at first, the sting on his ass so good that he is wiggling it again in Jaskier's grip, grinding against that feeling. He replays the incredibly dirty things Jaskier said to him; he is listening to every one of them, but sometimes the feeling gets the better of him. "Yes," he says, shivering. "I need to ...." Geralt kneels down in the shallow end, the water lapping nicely around his knees while the important parts out of the water. The reason why is obvious: the extremely strong witcher, who just lifted Jaskier over his shoulders like it was nothing, is certain he'll get so weak-kneed from Jaskier's mouth that he'll buckle and is thinking ahead. That's the level of power the bard has over him, that he not only admits to such weakness but embraces it.
"You don't have to ask, you can just do." He mumbles that quietly, casually, as if he's hesitant to admit how much he likes Jaskier taking over. It's a tightrope walk for someone as dominant as him. Geralt understands why Jaskier asks, he appreciates that, and he reaches back to snatch one of Jaskier's hands. He brings it tenderly to his mouth, not looking at him, still struggling with looking him in the eye when vulnerable like this. "I trust you," Geralt says sincerely, kissing Jaskier's knuckles and then his palm.
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He tries to be more assertive when his partner displays this kind of mood, when the man allows it, seeks it even. At the look Geralt gives him for his approach, blue eyes narrow, smirk turning sharper and predatory. If this is what his lover enjoys, who's Jaskier to deny it to him? The brunette doesn't talk any less than he does on the regular but he makes sure to drop his voice a few octaves, low and husky. His tone is full of lust when he says Geralt's name and what he plans to do with him, drawing out the vocals like pebbles on a beach. The bared teeth he gets in response only spurs him on, makes him lean in to nip at Geralt's lower lip after the witcher licks them, drawing attention. Their mouth press together for a kiss. It's not a bruising one but it's demanding, tongue pushing past sharp teeth, exploring Geralt's mouth. There's a lot of things Jaskier enjoys doing with his mouth and the man's gorgeous body, kissing is only part of it.
Geralt is being so good too, taking his 'punishment' in stride and making lovely sounds after every smack. Jaskier makes sure to change their intensity, offering light ones before harsher slaps, so Geralt can feel the sting as something new every time. He keeps an eye on the Witcher's body language, not just the way his cock fills and hardens to an impossible degree, but the way he holds his gaze or looks down, to avoid overstepping any comfort zone. Everything is going well so far and when Geralt gets on his fours, Jaskier's heart leaps to his throat at the view. He has to will his face into a calm expression so he doesn't look positively ravenous. The bard doesn't think he's been successful. His expression does soften easily when Geralt kisses his hand. Leaning over him, blanketing Geralt with his body again, he nuzzles him behind the ear, then catches his earlobe between his teeth.
"What will please would be making you come with my tongue in you." His hand shifts, first to brush his thumb over Geralt's wet lower lip and then to press his index finger against the plush curve of his mouth before sliding inside. The pad of his finger slides over Geralt's tongue and it's Jaskier's turn to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning. He adds a second one, slowly moving the fingers in and out the burning hot mouth.
The poor Witcher has been hard for a while and Jaskier doesn't want to taunt him much longer. A loving kiss is pressed to the curve of the man shoulder, followed by a much sharper bite that will leave a mark that might last at least a little while. Jaskier hopes so. Retreating his fingers from Geralt's mouth and humming contended at the view, he moves again. Geralt's spine is peppered with kisses, first between the shoulders blades and then down, down, over scarred skin and strong muscles. A hand slides down Geralt's flanks, the curve of his hip and the inside of his thigh, skin surprisingly soft there. It's all sweet and good, until Jaskier lands a strike over Geralt's left check, unprompted, the sound almost vibrating around them. With a grin on his face, Jaskier nips and the reddened bruise, feels the heat of it under his tongue when he licks the droplets off of Geralt's skin as promised.
His head tilts, nose brushing between perfectly round ass cheeks, pulling them apart with his left hand. The right one sneaks between Geralt's thighs, under him, to run a slick palm all over the hard cock. Jaskier rewards Geralt with a long squeeze just as the flat of his tongue presses against the man's entrance. Hot and slick and insistent, done with the teasing, Jaskier flicks his tongue over the sensitive flesh. He's tortuously slow one moment and then darting, stiffening his tongue to press inside past the rim of his hole. His hand doesn't stay idle, jerking the thick and swollen cock from root to tip, thumbing the slit and moving faster and faster, with the same determined urgency Geralt has offered him before when he brought him to completion. Without any other warning but a pleasing hum against his pucker and another push of his tongue, Jaskier slaps him again where the damp curve of Geralt’s arse meets his thighs. Hard.
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He returns Jaskier's heated kiss, sucking on his tongue, trying to catch his breath but it keeps getting sucked away a bit at a time with Jaskier's perfectly timed strikes. He is mindlessly turned on now, fearing every single slap will get him to come, yet he manages to keep himself under control. He makes a very content sound, a hum mixed with a purr, when Jaskier's body moves onto his and he leans back into him. He nods enthusiastically when Jaskier says how he wants him to come. He might have said yes but then Jaskier's fingers are in his mouth and he groans loudly against them. He sucks on them hard, helping lather them up, letting Jaskier fuck his mouth with his fingers.
He's as thirsty as a bitch in heat by the time Jaskier starts kissing his way down his body, rocking back into Jaskier's heat, begging with his ass and eagerness. Geralt immediately moves his knees apart wider, giving Jaskier more space to settle in behind him. He wants to give Jaskier an easier time so his head bows low, almost down to the water, lifting his ass up in obvious offering. He never had any idea what it would be like, this type of act, it hadn't crossed his mind. His partners were very direct, same as him, a little oil if they had it or spit otherwise, and straight to the fucking. Jaskier's sudden slap on left cheek makes him hiss fuck loudly.
"Fuck," he says out loud, shakily, when Jaskier parts his cheeks. The bard isn't teasing him for which he is grateful because he's already dizzy with lust and need. He whimpers when he feels that tongue thrust inside of him and he grips the ground beneath him hard, some of his silver hair dropping into the water. "Jaskier, yes, gods, yes." It is a whisper like a prayer, Jaskier's name, rocking back into his tongue and then into his hand. He is on the cusp, on the precipice of tension and pleasure-pain, when he thumbs at that slit. Geralt holds his breath.
That slap is all it takes and he thrusts desperately forward, coming all over Jaskier's hand and into the water itself, his arms shaking as if his great strength is failing him now. Geralt lets the pleasure surge through him and he sags for a moment, gasping, spinning out of control. He carefully takes Jaskier's hand off him and turns underneath him, running fingers through his hair and tugging Jaskier close. Geralt lies back onto the sand and shallow water, pulling Jaskier on top of him without thinking about it. He just wants to make it easier to kiss him, to ravage Jaskier's mouth like he's chasing his own taste and pleasure. The bard is not much of a weight on him and he is often pliable like this after a good orgasm, open and affectionate.
He even partially opens his golden eyes to look at Jaskier, hazy from pleasure, putting his arms around his lover and holding him close. Geralt's swollen ass feels very well used, rubbing against the sand at the moment, and he's pleased about it. "I take back about half of my complaints about you plowing everything in sight." Geralt smirks up at him, nuzzling his nose, kissing him slowly. "You're fucking good at this." If it means that all his sex with others made him this good, well, Geralt gets to reap the benefits.
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The way Geralt responds to the fingers in his mouth, the kisses down his back and the smacking, it's so different and much better than their first time, so much more fulfilling. Not like the first one wasn't spectacular. That night Jaskier will carry in his heart for the rest of his life, it's when all this started. It turned messy before it got much better, and now Jaskier feels like they're both more free. He knows he's more honest with himself, than the heavyweight of the longing he had for Geralt's affection is no longer pulling him down. Jaskier can only hope he makes the White Wolf at least half as happy as he feels every day.
His mind fills with the groans and whimpers Geralt is making, they will keep him warm on cold nights. He wants to tell Geralt how gorgeous he feels, how good he tastes and how fucking hot he sounds, but Jaskier's mouth is busy so he lets his hand to the talking. There's nothing he loves more than the way Geralt says his name while he's so close to coming, the heat and need of it making the bard shiver as well. When Geralt shouts and shudders, Jaskier rides him through his orgams, milking it out of him and retreating his tongue before oversensitivity kicks in, then biting on the skin of an asscheek one last time. Jaskier is much more oversensitive than Geralt after coming but the Witcher looks surprisingly shaky today and Jaskier caresses up the small of his back, ready to move and hold him up is his limbs can no longuer holding. It's an pleasant view, one that fills him with pride. He did this, he managed to make Geralt go weak in the knees.
Jaskier doesn't get the chance to hold him, Geralt is bouncing back and turning to pull him close even before the bard can even blink twice. He instantly melts again his lover's body, letting the bigger man maneuver them in a way that feels more comfortable, taking notice that all this happens while his eyes are still closed. Jaskier snuggles up to him and gives a happy, contented hum at the kisses, returning them with eagerness. There's less bitting but Geralt is passionate, making Jaskier chuckle a little against his mouth at the intensity. Gods, he loves this man.
"Only half? I'll have to work harder the next time." Jaskier trills, lounging upon the Witcher's scarred chest and placing small kisses on Geralt lips between words. He looks down at the man once he's satisfied and his smile is soft and deeply pleased, blue eyes alight with affection. One of his hands reaches up to Geralt's hair, brushing a wet strand away from his forehead, curling it around his shoulder instead. Geralt is relaxed under his touch, the sun is warming his back and the water cooling their overheated bodies. It feels like some sort of wonderful dream that he doesn't want to wake up from.
"I have a very inspiring partner. One who also happens to be a very good teacher." He appreciates all the things Geralt does for him, Jaskier's trying to say, from the protection against monsters and men, to the training lessons. "You make fantastic sounds, I like hearing them when you let yourself go." It's difficult for Geralt, he knows that, and it's why he appreciates it. "I'm far more willing to train with you every morning if this is what we will be doing later. Aha! I figured out your master plan to turn me into a dece...into a not terrible fighter."
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He does feel weak in the knees so lying on his back is easier, and he likes the weight of Jaskier on him. He enjoys when the bard rides him, his whole lanky body on display. Geralt lets his hand run down the curve of Jaskier's spine, squeezing his ass playfully. his other caressing through his wet hair. He is also in a soft and pleased state, returning the kisses languidly. "Only half," he confirms. "Fighting angry spouses on your behalf was a waste of my energy." Geralt nuzzles his nose. "Fucking you instead saves me the trouble." It is said as a tease, as if he did any of this in part to keep him from having to deal with Jaskier's nonsense. It's not the truth, although that is a great side effect.
Geralt smirks and chuckles softly. "It is part of my plan, yes." He's been caught, but he doubts Jaskier minds. Positive reinforcement makes them both satisfied. Sex was a reward in this case. He curls a leg around Jaskier's knee and then rolls them, taking Jaskier's hands in his and pinning them against the wet sand. "Seeing you hold a sword decently would be very appealing." Very sexually attractive, he means. He kisses Jaskier's jaw and bites his chin. "I don't need you to be a warrior." Geralt doesn't mean to indicate that he wants Jaskier to change or become more like him simply because he thinks Jaskier holding a sword is hot. He adores the bard as he is, but still. What can he say? Competency is a turn-on.
"I didn't expect us to be so compatible in bed," he admits, kissing Jaskier's neck. It isn't that he expected them to be dull in sex, not in the least, but there is a difference between good sex and incredible sex. It was incredible from that first time. No one's understood his needs as well as Jaskier. No one's trusted their body so fully to him before. He licks Jaskier's neck, sucking another mark to add to the pile of them.
"I can't get enough of you." It is obvious from the way they keep touching each other. Geralt is better about it in public, putting a reasonable distance between them. He didn't expect to stop wanting Jaskier because of their constant sex, getting bored is not like Geralt, who has always been content with occasional sex and nothing more. But this fixation? It's new. He keeps Jaskier's arms pinned and bites down on his clavicle, but has to reluctantly force himself to sit up, letting Jaskier go. "We need to finish washing or I'm going to fuck you right here." It is not entirely true; he is very conscientious of not hurting his lover and they had nothing to open him properly. But he'd be tempted.
Geralt gets off Jaskier but tugs him up with him, leading him back into the water. His own hands are covered with sand and dirty from digging into the ground when Jaskier was licking him, so he washes them off. "We will go to a bigger town next. We need better coin." Little towns gave him less trouble, he doesn't like being around a lot of people, but he could get more than one monster hunt depending on where they go. Geralt doesn't go with 'we should' rather than 'we will' because he still takes charge of their wandering. For pragmatic reasons and since he knows where there's more monster troubles.
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It came like a startling surprise when Geralt started returning it. Jaskier has always know that he could be far gentler than most people gave him credit for but he was still not big on touches. And yet, here they were, cuddling, kissing, and lying on the wet sand. He has never felt happier. The water lapping at their skin splashes around a bit when Jaskier shifts his legs, thighs on each side of Geralt's, knees on the sand and back arching to press against into his hand. He feels like purring like a content cat when the Witcher's fingers card through his hair.
"Hmm...alright. That's fair. You're good at keeping me focussed on one person alone." Jaskier nuzzles him back, eyes closed and mouth curling into a smile and murmuring 'my wolf' under his breath. He gets the joke, being mad doesn't even cross his mind, and there's a degree of truth on Geralt's statement. Jaskier doesn't want anybody else and since they promised to each other that they were exclusive, he knows for certain that he's wanted the same way.
"Devious..." The word is chastizing but the tone is not. It's a good tactic and if their roles were reversed Jaskier would have used it on him as well. He doesn't get another word in before Geralt is flipping them over and Jaskier's naked back is pressed against the sand. It's wet and ticklish but not unpleasant and he makes no attempt at freeing his wrists. If the hungry look in his eyes if anything to go by, Jaskier is rather pleased by the new position. "I've never heard any complains before about the way I handle your sword. I can only get better with more practice."
It's an easy joke and the bard has a shit-eating grin on his face but Geralt walked right into that one. Geralt is also earning himself a low, drawn-out moan when his teeth nip at his lover's neck. He doesn't say it out loud but the reassurance that comes with knowing Geralt really doesn't want him to change make Jaskier's eyes go softer, his moans turn into a small sigh.
"I was surprised too than you found me attractive at all." They're so very different, both in body and personality, that he didn't think he could cater to Geralt's interests. Jaskier knows that, for a man, he's on the delicate side of looks. He tries to make it work but it isn't always what men are interested in when their attention turns to their own sex. "We have known each other for a long time, no one knows me like you do. And I know you, Geralt of Rivia."
It's not a boasting statement as it's a comfortable truth he feels like sharing, something he believes. A lot of parts of Geralt's life and what goes on that pretty thick head of his are still a mystery to the bard, yet every day he wants to find out more, understand him better. He doesn't think he will ever get tired of Geralt, he had been fascinated with the man since the first time he spotted him in that tavern. Jaskier shudders under him, offering more of his neck to mark when he tilts his head back, spine arching and body seeking more contact. "That sounds like the opposite of a problem to me."
Jaskier mutters as they stand up, too horny to fully think about the implications. Yes, he's just came only a few minutes ago but his body can never get enough Geralt's touch, his attention. All the things they don't say with words. As Geralt's hand roam his body, he reaches up to pour water on the white hair and untangle the nods that rolling around the sand might have caused, then brushing off the sand on Geralt's shoulders. Without doing much more nod and hum, Jaskier agrees to whatever plans Geralt offer. He can sing and try to get coin with his lute anywhere but the Witcher has more specific monster needs.
"I think we're close to Brugge? I remember seeing more than a few Notice boards around the city the last time I visited. Even if they're not useful to me in any way, you got me into the habit of checking for those everywhere I go."
Geralt might have ended with some of Jaskier's habits, like the touching, but the bard didn't get away unscathed either. He's learned about monsters, about sword care, and much more about horses than he ever cared to know. And he's learned to love all those things too, just like he loves the man who thought them to him.
Once they're clean enough, Jaskier leans in to kiss Geralt one last time and then his hand finds the man's wrist, gently guiding him out of the water once and for all. The brunette eyes their clothes critically, then looks into the distance towards their camp, and finally back to Geralt. "Is it really worth putting on pants and getting them wet if we're going to just take them off in a little while? I'm a firm advocate of the pantless life."
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"And I am only focused on you," Geralt responds, confirming and reassuring. "Which I hope you remember the next time we run into Yennefer, because it is inevitable that we will." Destiny is not done with them even if their relationship is on hold due to Geralt's relationship. Their paths will keep crossing and he does not want a repeat of Jaskier's hurt feelings. This time there will be no question of sex between him and Yen, so he hopes that will be the end of any jealousy. Pettiness, possibly, but no jealousy.
He isn't thinking of her at all when he's on top of Jaskier, the water cool on their still heated bodies, the bad welcoming him. "Mmm? Hmmm." Geralt considers instead of immediately assuring Jaskier that of course he finds him attractive. Because it is not an of course situation. Yes, it is obvious that he finds him deeply attractive, considering he can't get his damn hands off him for ten seconds, but it is true they are very dissimilar. And Geralt doesn't really have a 'type,' although the similarities between Yennefer and Jaskier are more than either of them would like to admit to probably. "It wasn't immediate." He knew that Jaskier found him immediately attractive, but Geralt it takes a little longer. "But it is strong. Stronger than me."
His willpower clearly did not win the first trying to stop him from giving in. And that is saying a lot; Geralt is incredibly stubborn. He snorts and shakes his head. "Have you been fucked dry? I have, I don't recommend it." That is the first direct reference Geralt's made to having sex with another man before, outside of acknowledging it wasn't his first time when he offered it to Geralt. But it explains why he has been so shocked at Jaskier's skill in that area; his rare dominant male partner didn't bother with oil or preparation. And for Geralt, that had been fine. It still would be fine if Jaskier fucked him that way, his body is made for pain. But he couldn't do that to Jaskier. He is far more careful with his bard.
Geralt lets Jaskier pamper him, or at least it feels like pampering since he takes care of himself less, rumbling pleasantly when Jaskier untangles his hair. He'd never had anyone wash out his hair when it was covered in blood the way Jaskier did early on. Usually it took a few washes on the road, he didn't have a partner to help him. It's nice. He is content with Jaskier's suggestion of a place to go next. "A good town will have an area to practice in too." With dummies that Jaskier can hit instead of being twitchy about hitting Geralt. Win-win.
"You stay naked." Jaskier's clothes are the ones that are wet. Geralt picks them up for him, courteously, and hands them over. He pauses. On one hand, he really does not want to run the risk of someone literally catching him with his pants off. On the other, he is definitely going to have them off sooner or later as Jaskier just said. "Pantless for now," he says, giving in. Jaskier wins more of these questions than he loses these days.
"But if you bend over I am not responsible for what happens." As if they don't both know what will happen and as if Jaskier won't do it intentionally. Geralt kisses the top of Jaskier's head affectionately. "One of these days someone's going to catch us." Someone who will try to take advantage. And then Geralt will beat them senseless and slit their throat, depending on who it is, so it's not a real concern of his. He wants to grumble that's all.
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"I'll try to behave." It's all he can promise, though, because it's easier to be civil when she's not around and much harder to chase away the doubts when she's close to Geralt. "Contrary to popular belief, I do not hate her."
Jaskier does not, honestly, and he is aware of how important Yennefer is to Geralt. He just hates how she makes him feel, insecure and weak and pathetic. So, so human. When the bard is surrounded by a powerful witch and the best man he's ever known, he can't measure up. And there's her complicated story with Geralt, the past intimacy and the unbreakable bond they share. The mess with the djinn was Jaskier's fault, after all, Geralt was right about that when he yelled at him on the mountain.
Geralt answering in hums manages to bring him back to the present, pulls an amused huff from his own lips. He wonders where he learned the language of grunts and muttering so well that he can pinpoint with more or less proper accuracy what the white-haired man is trying to convey with them.
"It never is, with me." Immediate, he means. It comes out rather flatly, Jaskier is very aware of all his faults and strength and one list is far, far longer than the other. Geralt admitting that he still can't fight the attraction gets Jaskier to hum back at him, more at ease after knowing that. It lasts until Geralt talks about his past sex experiences.
Jaskier says nothing, not sure if talking would make the confession better or worse, but his face goes on a journey in the sparse of a few seconds. There isn't shock but there's a flash of anger in his eyes at the confirmation that Geralt's had less than stellar past bedfellows, treating him without the consideration any person deserves. Understanding follows and he winces slightly in sympathy. Having inconsiderate partners hasn't been uncommon for him either and while he welcomes Geralt's brusqueness and enjoys their rough sex, it's because it comes from a place of mutual trust. His hand starts, almost unconsciously and on its own accord, to move slowly through Geralt's hair, nails brushing over the scalp in a comforting and pleasant way. Who the gesture is meant to comfort, it would be up for debate.
"That's not happening again." The iron in Jaskier's voice seems to surprise even the bard, eyes widening for a moment before he glances at Geralt as if to assert that reaction. He knows the Witcher can take care of himself but at the same time, Jaskier knows he's shitty at REALLY taking care of himself when others are involved. Jaskier's words are a promise, protective ane possessive, and he hopes that Geralt won't take it the wrong way. He grumbles something under his breath about shitty partners that deserve to be flayed alive and nuzzles Geralt, burrowing his nose under the man's perfect chin and covering his throat with little kisses. He sucks a light mark there before they part and go to retrieve their clothes.
"I didn't think of that. I guess other people will get to see me embarrass myself. Yay." The tone is light despite the self-deprecating statement. Training against dummies would be much better for Jaskier's blood pressure that being constantly on edge about hitting Geralt. A grin is playfully playing on his lips when the Witcher gives in and then handles him the clothes, getting a 'thank you, darling' in return. Jaskier holds them in front of him to offer a modicum of decorum but he makes no promises about keeping himself in check. It's already hard not to reach out for Geralt again when he kisses him so sweetly.
"Then I pity them." The brunette looks as happy as a clam, without an ounce of regret, and then chuckles as they get moving. "We are going to scandalize Roach."
As if they didn't already do all the possible improper things by the poor mare's vicinity. They're lucky she's soused to the sounds of monsters fights that she doesn't startle at the screams of rutting men. By the time they reach their camp the horse is munching on a nearby patch of green grass, only lifting her head briefly to stare at them. Jaskier swears she gives them a judgy look and makes a mental note to offer Roach a carrot later once he is actually wearing proper clothing. For now, he blows her a kiss and waves his hand as if to say hello. He's looking over his shoulder at Geralt a moment later with clear intentions in his eyes, then disappearing into their shared tent. His clothes are left forgotten next to his lute and he quickly grabs for the small vial of oil they keep for this kind of occasions, leaving it next to their bedroll and rearranging the blankets so everything is more comfortable to lie on. Geralt can't be far behind unless he's double-checking their surroundings to make sure they're safe.
"I'm not bending over." Jaskier rumbles, pitching his voice a little lower and dripping with want when he hears him enter.
Technically, he's not, as Geralt warned, but it's not for lack of wanting. He's lying on his stomach, the arch of his back and the curve of his ass on display, chin resting on his forearms and eyes darkening in the now low light. There's a glint of amusement in them too as he turns to look at Geralt, baring his throat and spreading his legs a little. They're long and lean from years of following Geralt around on foot. Jaskier doesn't do more than that, staying put even as his heartbeat starts to speed up, pulse thrumming under his skin, because he wants Geralt to do as he pleases, wants to reward all that patience affection with some submission of his own. A whine builds in the back of his throat the longer the other man doesn't touch him, so it's hard to stay still.
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"Just remember, I already chose you," Geralt reminds him patiently. If Jaskier gets nervous about Yennefer, there really is no need to. The witcher chose him even before they became a couple, and their relationship has made him very content with his pick. Yennefer is many things but calming is not one of them. He would never lie and say that he lacks feelings or desire for her, it's not like Geralt to be deceptive, but his devotion is to Jaskier. She was the first person who pointed that out to him, and therefore she knows to leave it be. But that won't stop her from poking at Jaskier to get a rise, no doubt. Geralt will sigh and try to stay out of it, let the cattiness get itself out.
Geralt won't argue about Jaskier having flaws but he cups Jaskier's face affectionately. "People fear me more than anything else." Perhaps it takes people time to feel real things for Jaskier, but he has many lovers and Geralt has mostly had to pay for sex. He's an intimidating figure. Jaskier lusted after him right away, which he smelled and found puzzling, as it is hardly the first response most humans have toward him.
He looks slightly puzzled at Jaskier's vehemence and kisses the top of his head soothingly. He doesn't want or need him to be upset on Geralt's behalf. The witcher has taken no hurts that he hasn't asked for or given permission for. He didn't at the time know of an easier way, but now he does, and that is appreciated. "We are always far more considerate, so no, it is not happening." And he will likely do better if in the future he decides to be with a man again, although he doubts it, after he loses Jaskier. Geralt cannot imagine allowing anyone else to be in him after he's experienced it this way. So it is of no concern.
"You won't be embarrassed. Everyone starts from somewhere." Geralt did. It's not as if he knew how to hold a sword from childhood. He doubts Roach cares much, having been so calm regardless of what is around her. Geralt watches Jaskier and knows exactly what he's doing, but he does pause and take a quick look around. He hears animals in varying positions around them, but nothing dangerous. He would know the sound of hoofbeats from a long distance away. He is satisfied for now that they have their privacy. But he sets his clothes down right outside the tent, easy for him to roll out and put them on quickly before any attack.
The sight that greets him is very appealing and goes straight to his cock. Geralt lets his eyes take his fill, appreciating the lean body and curve of his ass. He growls when Jaskier looks at him and spreads his legs, instantly moving forward so Jaskier doesn't have to whine for long. Geralt gets on his knees behind him and first simply reaches out to stroke a hand down the long plane of Jaskier' s form. The curve of his spine, squeezing and appreciating his ass, back up his body to run fingers through his hair and then tighten them sharply in his hair. He jerks tightly, tugging the way he knows Jaskier likes. He puts a hand under Jaskier's stomach and lifts, encouraging him to go on his hands and knees.
Geralt rocks his hips forward to rub his cock between Jaskier's cheeks, letting him feel him grow inch by inch due to the friction and his growing lust. "My submissive bard," he growls softly in approval. He picks up the oil and spills enough of it on his hand to start opening Jaskier, and he takes his time with it even if he's hungry, not starving yet. He knows Jaskier likes to be slowly prepared, his fingers curling inside of him to tease at his prostate. "Tell me how much you want it. Beg."
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"I won't forget." For a man who hasn't an easy time handling his own emotions, Geralt does a fantastic job of keeping Jaskier's ones in check. The reminder is enough to soothe him and squash any doubts that might have been lingering. Geralt did choose him and he keeps doing it every day instead of disappearing. They have also talked about the future, even if it was over what worries and pains could bring.
Jaskier leans into the touch to his face and then closes his eyes at the kiss to his hair, his own hand reaching out to rest on Geralt's chest, palm over his heart. He chose the Witcher 20 years ago, and he would do it all over again. If he had the blessing of living for a thousand years, he'll love him for a thousand more. He knows that lust and want have a scent, just like rage and fear do, but he never asked Geralt if love smells any different. It's not a concept they share with words, so he doesn't want to bring it up, but the bard is curious.
"Good." If in the future Geralt decides to be with a man again, Jaskier expects him to at least be careful, to put his needs first. He doesn't want Geralt to be forever miserable once they're no longer together, and he wouldn't demand the Witcher to stay faithful to a dead man, to his memory. The world keeps turning and they have to move on, treasure what they have, the good memories, and keep on living. Jaskier might be jealous in life but he would not be that selfish in death.
With that cleared and the issue of training settled, he goes on his way and waits for Geralt. He's practically purring at the Witcher once their eyes meet inside the tent and the man growls in return. Strong hands start caressing him like they did dozen of times before but with Geralt, it always sets his nerves alight as if it's the first time. Jaskier loses his train of thought at the hair pulling, breath hitching and cock hardening between his legs, made it obvious when Geralt prompts him to stand on his fours. The burn of the grip spreads down his spine, gets Jaskier to mewl. He gives a full-body shudder when the man's cock slides between his cheeks, hot and fat and hard. The muscles in his thighs quiver but he spreads them a little more, making it easier for the cockhead to brush over his sensitive rim.
Eyes closed shut, Jaskier gives a high pitched keen at Geralt's voice. It carries the wicked tone that means he’s going to take him apart until Jaskier is a breathless, fucked out mess.
"Y-yes. Yours." He's panting and trying to find more of his voice when Geralt slides a slicked finger inside him, body tight but acclimating to the intrusion with ease. He needs more, anything, everything Geralt can give him.
"Geralt, I wan...n-need..." He gives a weak moan, tries again. The teasing just makes his cock harder and he rocks his hips back against Geralt's fingers in small jerking motions. "I want to be split open on your cock, for the love of a...fuck, please."
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He wouldn't say that love smells different, but the way Jaskier touches him is. His actions are. The beat of his heart is different with Geralt than with others. He reads him in many other ways, and they all say that he is loved, however confusing that might be for him. Their relationship is special and because of that, he doesn't know if it is something he will want again. Losing people is easier without connection. It may not be a shut door after Jaskier, but it will not be a wide open one either.
Geralt stays on his knees behind Jaskier and fits his body against him, making a content almost-purr sound with how quickly Jaskier opens up to him. "Yes, mine." He caresses his fingers through Jaskier's hair, pulling it again at the same time as he thrusts two big fingers into him, plunging them deep. He lets the strands go and moves around to run up his arms, satisfied they will hold him up for now. His fingers find Jaskier's nipple and pinches it, rolling the bud between the rough pad of his thumb. "So eager for me, aren't you?"
He fucks Jaskier with his fingers, judging from the desperate rock backs of his lover that he needs more and soon. Geralt frankly enjoys watching, and he decides that he wants to see more. As per usual he doesn't warn Jaskier when he intends to move him, he just moves him, pulling his fingers out and turning the bard onto his back. "I want to see your face." Geralt stays sitting up and pulls Jaskier's legs up, resting them against his shoulders. He doesn't plan on pinning him down using his arms like he ordinarily does, instead letting his hungry eyes travel over Jaskier's exposed body and flushed face. They can see each other fully this way. He couldn't do that when Jaskier's legs were wrapped around his neck earlier. Geralt grabs Jaskier by the hips and tugs him, lifting his ass so it settles comfortably into the cradle of Geralt's groin.
He slicks himself up and slides into Jaskier like he was born to be there. Sometimes it feels like Jaskier was made for this, to be his, to be taken like this. Geralt groans, eyes closed for a moment, filling him up as wet heat surrounds him. He turns his head to kiss Jaskier's ankle nearby sweetly, running the nearby hand up and down the leg pressed against his chest. He doesn't go straight to pounding Jaskier into the ground, although he'll do that soon enough. Geralt's been a little better at starting out slow, breaking Jaskier apart in pieces instead, his deep thrusts not as frantic.
His gaze travels openly appreciating Jaskier, snapping his hips forward a little sharper and then slowing it down again. "Touch yourself." Geralt likes when Jaskier's eyes are on him in a sexual way, he's put himself on display plenty of times, and he is now too. All muscle, white hair wet from the water and soon from sweat as well, plastered in part to his forehead. He bites his lip, wanting to bite Jaskier's instead, but then he wouldn't be able to look at him. And the intent stare says he wants that. His own hands are busy, one on Jaskier's leg and the other on his hip, but Jaskier's hands are free.
"Touch your nipples first, then your cock." It's like him to be demanding in more than just tossing him around, but the heat in golden eyes has no interest in arguments. He licks his lips, driving into Jaskier hard with a grunt and then going back to shallow thrusts. "Looks good."
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His moan is full and throaty when the warmth weight of Geralt's body presses against his own. Mine, the Witcher confirms, and the words had never been truer. His, and no one else. A hiss escapes the bard's lips when a pair of fingers are pushed into him to the last knuckle. They add to the growing pressure pooling on his lower belly, heat spreading from his chest down to his dripping cock. His head tips forward once there's no hand gripping his hair, back arched and thighs trembling, taking whatever his lover gives him.
Jaskier bits his bottom lip, cheeks warm as Geralt works him open and plays with his nipples, earning himself a moan. The witcher seems to be enjoying this as much as Jaskier is, and the bard briefly wonders if showing Geralt the concept of delayed gratification hadn't been a mistake. The man can be a terrible tease, playing his body like an instrument. He can't really be mad, going dizzy with the feel of Geralt's warm breath close to his earlobe, calling him out on his desperate need to be filled. He wants to articulate a reply and only manages some desperate pleas, in elder speech of all things, because Jaskier's brain is turning to mush. Sparks of pleasure run up his back, hips tilting deeper as Geralt breaches him, undoes him with only his hands and voice.
He never forgets just how strong Geralt can be but being so casually turned on his back takes Jaskier by surprise every single time. "Yes, please, yes. I always like seeing your eyes." Jaskier cries out, voice a weak moan, thick with want as Geralt hitches a trembling leg over his shoulder. Geralt's whole body makes him go delirious with pleasure but it's the golden eyes that ground him, the want he sees in them what makes Jaskier go breathless.
He's desperate for more skin contact and his hands feel up Geralt's biceps, the sweat-damp skin strong as steel under his palm, and then he's clutching at the shoulders, digging his nails in. He writhes beneath the bigger man, half gone with desperation by the time Geralt finally, finally, holds his hips and slides into his body, where he belongs.
Jaskier gives a shuddering breath and moans out Geralt's name, back arching and hips doing little desperate twitches, feeling the hot pressure of the thick cock inside him. His eyes are half-lidded, hazy already, the messy hair falling over his forehead and a shy smile spreading on his lips when Geralt kisses his ankle and caresses his other leg. He has been expecting the man to go at it hard and fast, and the surprising sweetness it's even more effective at making the bard keen, a blush blooming across his cheeks.
"Gera ahalt..." Jaskier croons, voice turning into a choked scream after the blunt push, but following the commands immediately. He keeps his eyes locked on Geralt's even as his hands start to wander over his chest. "You feel so fucking big inside me, so perfect."
Putting out a show for Geralt sends a thrill through his gut and Jaskier does his best to ignore his throbbing cock, curved and leaking over his lower belly. The pad of his thumb and index fingers pinch and rub in tight little circles at his left nipple. The right-hand wanders from the bony curve of his hip, brushing over Geralt's fingers there on purpose, to later slide over his taut stomach and up. The palm moves over his other nipple, getting Jaskier to clench around Geralt's cock at the sensation.
After that, fingers dance over the clavicle and splay upon the curve of his neck when Jaskier tilts his head back, exposing it further as Geralt grinds down into him. The hand repeats the movements on its way down, winding him tight with tension and rippling pleasure, fingers finally sliding around his untouched cock, giving it a squeeze. And then Jaskier really can’t control the noises he’s making or the way his body is clutching at Geralt's hardness whenever he pulls out like it doesn’t want to let go.
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So he has been trying to make sure his bard knows that he cherishes him. That he appreciates him and he doesn't treat him like a nuisance he tolerates on the road. He treats him like a treasured companion, and now that they're together, more than that too. The inevitability of their parting is not fresh in his mind, and they're this by choice. Yen never needed him and he respects her independence, but he loves that Jaskier does need him. They need one another. It's a true partnership. He didn't expect that having such fierce emotional intimacy would unlock so much in his heart, but it has.
It's why Geralt wants to see his face and enjoy this bout together. He smiles fondly when Jaskier says he likes his eyes; his eyes make him decidedly not human. Most people look at that gold and find it unsettling. He doesn't like eye contact in certain situations, but he is relaxed and in charge now and his gaze is heated. Watching Jaskier move and react to his thrusts feels almost as good as the heat wrapping around his cock. "He blushes," Geralt teases, having already told Jaskier he likes it when he blushes. They've done so many lustful things together, it's such an oddity.
"Mmm, and you're perfectly tight." Geralt watches Jaskier touch his body, his eyes locked in on the bard's hands. "You look so fucking good." When Jaskier's got his fingers on his nipples, pinching them the way Geralt would, he licks his lips, wanting them on those little beads. Another time. Then Jaskier's clenches and he groans loudly, unexpectedly, having been so caught in lusting after his partner. He thrusts forward hard in response, rocking into him fiercely for a few strokes, growling. This gets no better when Jaskier finally touches himself and Geralt's practically drooling watching him. His mouth fills with saliva and he swallows. "Fuck, you own me, you know that? You've got me wrapped around your finger."
It used to worry him, frustrate him at times, because it's not exactly new. Geralt wasn't obvious about it before, but he did often give into the bard. The pouts were quite successful against him. He's had a soft spot for years. "I'd do anything for you." Geralt knows something important about Jaskier and their sex: the bard loves it when he's sweet. When he says nice things, especially true ones, when it's adoring mixed with desire. Geralt prefers it rough and wild, but he knows his Jaskier. They can both get it. Jaskier gets eye contact and Geralt kissing his ankle, biting his calf since he can't have his neck, murmuring that he wants him. All the while Geralt gets to finally let loose.
He moves his hands to Jaskier's knees and spreads them wider, holding them up and Jaskier's body in his grasp so he gets full fein of slamming into Jaskier's beautiful willing body. He likes to make him helpless and to see him split apart, ridden hard. He's been enjoying their bouts into softer sex, but he'll never lose his love for this, seeing Jaskier scream and cling to him desperately as the pleasure burns through his own body. "I like seeing your eyes too. Fuck I would live inside of you if I could, point your cock at me, I want you to come on me."
He can smell Jaskier's release coming and he snarls, looking right at him with eyes that seem to glow at the height of his hunger like this when he keeps thrusting himself into Jaskier even through his own orgasm, taking every extra second of it that he can.
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And now it's impossible for the bard to keep his hands to himself on a daily basis, to not want to touch, to taste, to kiss and nip. To both give and take all the pleasure he can out of Geralt. Pleasure that doesn't always have to be physical. Jaskier loves the Witcher's dry sense of humor in the rare times it comes to light, even if it's at his expense. Talking to Geralt it's always interesting, either helping him learn more about the man, the monsters he fights or the nature of humanity. He also enjoys playing with the white hair, when allowed, or sitting close by, snuggle up to Geralt and watch the starry sky when they camp outside. He's shared his thoughts, his life, his art and his body with Geralt for so long that it's become as natural as breathing. Maybe it's the poet in him, but Jaskier believed that a life without Geralt in it is one where some part of his soul is missing.
His heart speeds up when Geralt smiles at him after complimenting his eyes and Jaskier can see that the other man truly believes him, that he knows the bard isn't offering empty charming words.
"Oh, hush." The bard throws and arm over his eyes, embarrassed further by the words and being a touch dramatic. It doesn't last, it can't when he enjoys looking at Geralt's so much, and one of his eyes is peering back at the man soon enough from under his forearm. It feel good, though, to be able to joke and pester each other during sex too. It's shows how well they know each other, how comfortable they are.
After the brutish, deep shove that hits his sweet spot, Jaskier chokes out a shrill sound, moaning Geralt's name and rolling his hips up for more. The Witcher's cock is so perfect, every inch of it, girthy and hard, rubbing against his inner muscles and nudging his walls in all the right ways. Jaskier considers it a miracle that he hasn't fully lost his mind about it but he knows that he acts like a bitch in heat once they get lost into their lovemaking. He's meeting the Witcher's thrust for thrust as much as he can in the position he's in, splaying out his legs so the movement gets Geralt deeper. How the man expects him to be capable of speech is beyond Jaskier, but there's something he needs to say in response to Geralt's statement.
"It goes b-both ways. You're my partner. I'd be lost without you." It's not an exaggeration either. He thought he had lost Geralt forever once and life turned bleak, empty and lonely. His lover is his, just much as every part of Jaskier belongs to Geralt.
The smaller man shivers at the kiss to his ankle and the praising words. Jaskier's eyes flash with lust, a spark form something born out of being wanted, being appreciated like this, and he arches his back, clamping tight around Geralt's dick. His free arm moves, no longer covering half of his face, and a hand buries into this own hair, finger pulling at the chestnut locks. His breathing speeds up, the muscles of his stomach tightening. Words of appreciation are his own brand of dirty talk, he shouldn't be surprised that Geralt had him figured out so quickly. He also enjoys the lewd comments and filthy suggestions, all get his blood to run hotter, but this, oh. This sweetness undoes him.
Geralt's thrusts, now hard and fast, feel like heaven and his demand seals the deal. Jaskier’s heart is beating heavily in chest, threatening to claw its way out as he stares at Geralt wide eyes for a second. His scent will linger on Geralt's skin long after the man scrubs clean the cum from his body. He's learned that from all those the times in the past that the Witcher had marked him instead and then looked smug the next day. The bard knows what is being offered. Geralt's nose will sense him even if Jaskier does not, marking him as his own. The new position and how fast Geralt is moving makes Jaskier's tight body open up for him, be at his mercy, and he won't last much longer.
"Will you finish in me? I want you to, Geralt, please. It feels so good when you fill me up."
He moans, a deep, guttural tone that echoes around them, his thighs shaking and his hand working on himself, gripping as his cock and guiding it to Geralt's stomach as he pumps. A familiar tension spreads across his body and tears prick in Jaskier’s eyes when he comes, shouting Geralt's name like it’s a sacred prayer, ropes of white painting his lover's chest and flat stomach. He cries out even louder as Geralt's fucks him through it, the man's rhythm becoming frantic and erratic from his own release. And yet, he can't break his eyes away from Geralt's, the look so intense and the glint in those golden eyes so, so gorgeous.
Jaskier keeps tightening himself around Geralt until they're both spend, his moans quieting to mewling sounds, small and satisfied. The hand that was tightening on his hair falls to the blanket, next to his head, the other slides up Geralt's bicep, seeking even more contact. The familiar wet, hot feeling of Geralt's seed inside him leaves him sated and heavy-limbed.
I'm so sorry this has been a long fucking week
Noo, no need to apologize at all. We're all having bad days. Take care bb.
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