[ There were a lot of mistakes made back then, and the words did leave a wound on the bard that cut him to the bone. He's learned to live with it, to deal with the metaphorical scar tissue and move on. Being with Geralt was never going to be easy, he knew that from the beginning, but the Witcher was hurt at the time as well, lashing out, and Jaskier accepted the apologies once things had calmed down. They're making up for all the lost time now, new good memories to replace the bad ones, and he tries to focus on the present and not worry about a possible end.
Jaskier has almost forgotten why are they even up this early, not like Geralt sleeps much. Something about training, his hazy mind offers as he rolls his hips at a quicker pace. Jaskier shudders when Geralt grunts, answering with a more meek whimper of his own, his pleasure just as intense. They're slick with pre-cum and Geralt's hands are rough from decades of wielding swords, adding just the right kind of edge. Another moan is stiffened against the Witcher's mouth and Jaskier pulls away only a hair breath, panting and arching his back. ]
Geralt, I won...ah...won't last long...
[ He keens when the hand grabbing his nape moves to his ass, feeling as desperate as Geralt. Even then, Jaskier smiles at him through half-opened eyes because his lover looks so beautiful in this moment, a wild thing, primal and untamed, and the bard is getting drunk on their shared pleasure. And so Jaskier tells him, words murmured in a rasp voice against the skin of his ear, low and loving, their cheeks brushing together, chest pressed close as he still sways his hips to try and push Geralt over the edge with him. ]
[How many more mornings like this will be in their future? It's hard to say, but Geralt hopes that they'll remain on good terms for however long this thing lasts. It took them this long for Geralt to accept a friendship let alone something more. The last thing he wants is to break Jaskier's heart.
As he presses down closer Geralt urges the movement with rolls of his hips too, jerking up in a steady beat to meet the way Jaskier slides them together. His grip remains steady and Geralt tips his head back with the building pleasure, grunting low in his throat at the whispers in his ear.]
C'mon... C'mon... [The urgency in his voice is just as low and breathless, the way their bodies rub and grind together adding bursts of pleasure where his hand squeezes. Geralt feels his arousal build to a point of no return and the desperation in his own thrusts increase, knowing he's close, stroking and rubbing until they both run over that edge together.]
[ Plenty of mornings, if Jaskier has any saying in it. It's maybe and impossible dream, a wish too difficult to fulfill, but he's waited so many years to be with Geralt, to be properly together, that he doesn't want to waste a moment. He leans in, kissing the man's collarbone one las time before groaning low in his throat, forehead now against Geralt's shoulder as he shudders all over.
Matching orgasm exists more in the realms of perfect stories and occasionally raunchy ballads. They hardly happen in real life although it's not for lack of trying from the participants. But they still do happen and Jaskier finds himself rising to his peak at the same time as Geralt, the Witcher's name dropping from his lips like a prayer. Their chests are pressed close, rutting into each other almost like animals, cocks sliding together, and Jaskier bucks up against Geralt as they ride out the delightful waves. He can feel every spasm, every hot spurs between them, it feels so good that he thinks he must let out an actual sob.
He's always oversensitive after coming, more than Geralt at any rate, skin feeling hot and limbs loose. He stops rolling his hips slowly, hands reaching up to cup Geralt's face and press their foreheads together as they catch their breath. He takes a deep breath through his nose, basking in the scent that is just Geralt, the kind of smell he associates comfort, with adventures during the day and love during the nights. They would soon have to get up, and clean their mess away, start training (ugh!) but for now he's too happy and relaxed to move. ]
[The simplest acts can sometimes feel the best, and somehow Jaskier makes something as easy as a handjob feel incredible and intimate. Maybe it's because Geralt's feelings have changed so drastically, or maybe because this is still all so new. Whatever the case, he doesn't want it to stop.
His hand slows its strokes and eases on the harder grip when they both begin to calm down, breathing hard and hearts beating wildly. He's well aware of how sensitive Jaskier can get so he eventually lets go in favor of letting them rest like this, the bard on top of him despite the mess and sweat. Geralt hums a contented sound when their foreheads touch and he closes his eyes, breathing in the moment just the same.
Yes, they'll have to get up, rinse off, and get to the rest of their day, but right now he's happy to revel in this moment a while longer. Their small tent feels like a whole other world.]
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
no subject
Jaskier has almost forgotten why are they even up this early, not like Geralt sleeps much. Something about training, his hazy mind offers as he rolls his hips at a quicker pace. Jaskier shudders when Geralt grunts, answering with a more meek whimper of his own, his pleasure just as intense. They're slick with pre-cum and Geralt's hands are rough from decades of wielding swords, adding just the right kind of edge. Another moan is stiffened against the Witcher's mouth and Jaskier pulls away only a hair breath, panting and arching his back. ]
Geralt, I won...ah...won't last long...
[ He keens when the hand grabbing his nape moves to his ass, feeling as desperate as Geralt. Even then, Jaskier smiles at him through half-opened eyes because his lover looks so beautiful in this moment, a wild thing, primal and untamed, and the bard is getting drunk on their shared pleasure. And so Jaskier tells him, words murmured in a rasp voice against the skin of his ear, low and loving, their cheeks brushing together, chest pressed close as he still sways his hips to try and push Geralt over the edge with him. ]
no subject
As he presses down closer Geralt urges the movement with rolls of his hips too, jerking up in a steady beat to meet the way Jaskier slides them together. His grip remains steady and Geralt tips his head back with the building pleasure, grunting low in his throat at the whispers in his ear.]
C'mon... C'mon... [The urgency in his voice is just as low and breathless, the way their bodies rub and grind together adding bursts of pleasure where his hand squeezes. Geralt feels his arousal build to a point of no return and the desperation in his own thrusts increase, knowing he's close, stroking and rubbing until they both run over that edge together.]
no subject
Matching orgasm exists more in the realms of perfect stories and occasionally raunchy ballads. They hardly happen in real life although it's not for lack of trying from the participants. But they still do happen and Jaskier finds himself rising to his peak at the same time as Geralt, the Witcher's name dropping from his lips like a prayer. Their chests are pressed close, rutting into each other almost like animals, cocks sliding together, and Jaskier bucks up against Geralt as they ride out the delightful waves. He can feel every spasm, every hot spurs between them, it feels so good that he thinks he must let out an actual sob.
He's always oversensitive after coming, more than Geralt at any rate, skin feeling hot and limbs loose. He stops rolling his hips slowly, hands reaching up to cup Geralt's face and press their foreheads together as they catch their breath. He takes a deep breath through his nose, basking in the scent that is just Geralt, the kind of smell he associates comfort, with adventures during the day and love during the nights. They would soon have to get up, and clean their mess away, start training (ugh!) but for now he's too happy and relaxed to move. ]
no subject
His hand slows its strokes and eases on the harder grip when they both begin to calm down, breathing hard and hearts beating wildly. He's well aware of how sensitive Jaskier can get so he eventually lets go in favor of letting them rest like this, the bard on top of him despite the mess and sweat. Geralt hums a contented sound when their foreheads touch and he closes his eyes, breathing in the moment just the same.
Yes, they'll have to get up, rinse off, and get to the rest of their day, but right now he's happy to revel in this moment a while longer. Their small tent feels like a whole other world.]