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.
Geralt would have said once upon a time that this type of connection was impossible for him. He liked to say a lot of the time what wasn't normal for a witcher and therefore impossible. He walked a lonely road but it was one he found almost pride in, distancing himself from others. Renfri may have been a brief interlude, but she and the situation reminded him of the reasons he kept apart. And then Jaskier showed up. His life hasn't been the same since. He didn't know how to react to the bard and his attempts to chase him off failed completely. Then he decided he didn't want to chase him off ... and then he tried to. It took him time before he tried to burn his life down, which was pretty good for someone with tendencies toward self-destruction.
He really didn't realize how much he cared until the bard nearly died from his own reckless wish with the djinn. He met Yennefer then, but his emotions for Jaskier changed as well. It will be very difficult to go on without him, and he knows it is inevitable, but he will probably distance himself from humanity for a time again. Perhaps go home and lick his wounds until Vesemir kicked him out. But that's not what he's thinking about when he's inside of his bard. Those are the things that haunts his dreams and his broodier moments, and not in their bedroom ever.
He is in no way immune to Jaskier's lust for him. Just the way the bard looks at him can get him to warm. He doesn't blush but he does enjoy the look of it in his bard's face. It's sweet, an unexpected detail of their lovemaking that makes it unique. Geralt watches as Jaskier runs his finger through his own hair, moving so eagerly along with Geralt's intense thrusts. He likes the dirty talk, the way filthy things spill off of Jaskier's elegant tongue, and sometimes a little whisper from Jaskier can get him riled up no matter where they are. His compliments do the same. He knows his lover.
Geralt gets very territorial if his scent isn't on Jaskier. He's never felt so possessive of anyone in his life, and it calls to a feral side of him that he rarely feeds, and yet Jaskier encourages it. He lets Geralt come on him or rub up entirely against him, leaving marks, making it so that if they come across anyone with a supernatural nose would know who he belongs to. It is a protection, a clear mine back off sign to those potential threats, but mostly just an instinct. He doesn't often care about the same, he's marked by Jaskier in so many other ways, but he likes the idea of smelling like Jaskier when he's not around. Perhaps being claimed is as good as claiming.
"Fuck, you know I will," Geralt growls and he's already tumbling over the edge by the time Jaskier comes on him, which only heightens the orgasm as it lengthens and lingers. He is always impressed with how Jaskier still manages to rock against him when they fuck, despite how firmly he holds onto him or pins him. The bard is never passive. Geralt sighs as his body shakes with pleasant release, setting Jaskier's legs down. He hates moving out of him but he has to, but he doesn't go far, moving between Jaskier's legs so he can rest his body on top of him. He is careful not to put all of his weight down, instead focusing on kissing Jaskier.
He kisses him for some time, long and languid, making up for all the times he hesitated from giving extra affection when they were still in uncertain times. Geralt nuzzles his nose and then buries his face in Jaskier's neck for a few seconds, breathing him in and then precisely and sharply biting it. He didn't get a chance to before, so now he does, immediately soothing the sting with his tongue. Only after doing that does he roll off him, resting on his back for a moment and breathing, simply enjoying the aftermath before he cleans them up.
"Jaskier ...." His voice is a light rasp, turning to look at him, golden eyes hazy. "When we get to that better town, I'm going to get us a good room." Geralt reaches out with his hand, brushing the back of his rough fingers against Jaskier's soft cheek. "And I'm going to let you fuck me the way you want." He needs it to be in a more secluded place, he can't let it happen in public like this. Too unsafe. It's a promise he intends to keep because Jaskier hasn't pushed him in the least on it, but he knows the bard wants it, longs for it. And he does too, if with some nerves attached.
Noo, no need to apologize at all. We're all having bad days. Take care bb.
Jaskier might be in contact with his emotions but he often has too many for most people to handle and the extension of most of his relations amounts to one night stands and the Countess de Stael. None were long-lasting and Jaskier considers himself very lucky that he was lucky to find his match in Geralt, his true and only partner.
His gasps break off into drawn-out moans as they come and only Geralt's hands on his leg and hip keep him from arching off the bedroll. Jaskier feels almost feverishly, his thought hazy and the nerves of his whole body singing with relief and satisfaction. And yet, a though still prevails and there's a small smile on the bard's lips as Geralt gently moves his legs off of his shoulders. Mine, mine.
"Gods, you're magnificent." They're sweaty and flushed red, but the Witcher never looked better than when they've made love. Jaskier should not think of it in those terms but there's no denying it, in his hear, and he won't lie to himself. He is looking pretty wrecked himself, mouth bitten and hair in disarray, Geralt's seed cooling between his legs, and even panting as he speaks.
His arms immediately wrap around Geralt's shoulders once the man is within reach and they start kissing, one hand burying itself on the soft white hair, scratching at the scalp lightly. Everything is good with the world right now, Jaskier's body relaxed with pleasure, his mind fuzzing at the edges. He tilts his chin up to expose more of his neck when the other man nuzzles him and the bite catches him off guard. It gets the bard to squeak and then mewls, tugging at Geralt hair not to pull him off of him but to encourage. A wet tongue runs over the bite a second later and Jaskier makes a giggling sound at the tickling sensation, pleased that Geralt did some extra marking of his own.
After Geralt rolls off of him, Jaskier gives the Witcher abut five seconds before he's moving too, curling against the man's side and sliding a hand up his stained abs. He leans forward to place a kiss on his chest and then rests his chin there, looking up at him as Geralt cups his chin. Breath catches in his throat and Jaskier chews his bottom lip, eyes widening in wonder and darkening with interest. It's the second time that his partner catches him by surprise in the span of five minutes. Tilting his head, he leans into the touch and smiles.
I'd love it. I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel...but tell me that again once we had a bath.
Once they had calmed down from their own orgasm and their brains aren't swimming on endorphins, it's what he means. It's not that he doesn't believe Geralt's words but he doesn't want the man to make promises on the heat of passion he might come to regret later. He knows Geralt would try to full fill them still and he wants his lover to be comfortable and to feel safe. Turning his face to the side, Jaskier kisses the palm of his hand.
Geralt thinks the only thing that kept him from claiming Jaskier earlier, without needing to be seduced in the first place, was never seeing him like this. His sex was out of sight out of mind for Geralt until one of the lovers' spouses showed up, but if he knew what Jaskier looked like after an orgasm, he would have wanted it sooner. Those pretty plump lips of his, swollen from a bite, blue eyes dazed, his hair properly sexed into a tousled state. He was aware the bard was attractive, but a damned incubus, no.
He doesn't repeat the compliment but the way he openly appreciates Jaskier's beauty says plenty. He is magnificent as well. Geralt grunts when Jaskier almost immediately is on him after he rests back, one side of his mouth curving in fondness. He has to clean them off, but he will indulge a few seconds more. He likes when Jaskier rests his chin on his chest; he can hear him breathing, hear his heartbeat.
He runs his thumb along Jaskier's bottom lip, enjoying the spark of interest in his bard's eyes at the offer. He is too blissful at the moment to fluster, but he would have. Geralt isn't certain he has the words to explain why he's hesitant at all, only that he knows he is. Jaskier's been the first person he's let fuck him in decades, and it was always impersonal, and what's between them is anything but. Due to his own failures (thankfully).
He hmms at that and his golden eyes are so gentle and warm. "You know that I don't change my mind based on when I've come last." Geralt cups the back of Jaskier's head and tugs, pulling him into a slow kiss full of meaning even he doesn't fully grasp. He stops the kiss before it includes too much interest and before he can get it in his head to start it up again. Instead he kisses Jaskier's forehead and pushes him lightly so he can get up
He pauses to take a moment to dip his finger into Jaskier's come on his skin, tasting it. He can wipe this off and he'll still know the smell, the taste, and it will linger. It's better that Jaskier smells of him, so others are warned off, so monsters avoid a witcher's scent, so this is solely for Geralt's benefit. He keeps his eyes on his lover and brings back water, offering it to Jaskier to drink. He wouldn't say he's always this attentive to his lovers, but it helps that Jaskier has encouraged his small gestures of it before to the point where he naturally does it now.
"I want to ride your cock and I'm going to." It is mildly said but sexually direct, and he runs his fingers through Jaskier's hair. He's going to. Once certain requirements are done and he won't feel as unprotected. "And we're both going to fucking love it." That said, he kisses Jaskier firmly, waiting until he's had some of the water before tugging lightly on his hair. "Back in the water we go. This time I won't throw you."
He is still a little playful so he smirks. "Probably."
They didn't have the chance to see each other in the heat of passion, sweaty and blissed out, until they decided to take the chance. Sharing a bath with the Witcher is now Jaskier's second favorite activity to do with Geralt and he's glad everything started that way.
Those days, Jaskier's well-fucked out moments are only for Geralt to see, and he also has all the bard's attention. Jaskier doesn't need Geralt to say that he likes what he sees, it's obvious enough. Despite his many past flings, very little people have looked at him the way Geralt does. As if he's worth keeping. As if he belongs to someone. Jaskier quite likes that look.
He likes curling around his partner's body even more, the offered trust and the desire. The confirmation that his partner won't change his mind is enough to get Jaskier a little flustered with future anticipation and looking very pleased. He puts all the affection he has to offer in the slow kiss they share, returning Geralt's own with enthusiasm. It ends all too quickly for his liking but he shifts away to give Geralt the room he needs to move, blue eyes looking intensely at the way the other man licks his fingers. There's a visible shudder racking through Jaskier's body at the view and then he smiles.
"I don't think you realize how hot that was. It's going to be on my mind forever. No songs would even make it justice...Not like I will write any!"
The reassurance is added quickly, just in case. After a flirty smile, Jaskier mutters a small thanks and takes the offered water. He hasn't realized how thirsty he was until then but he's no longer surprised that Geralt can anticipate his needs. He makes sure to leave some water for the other man too, handing him back the cup and then smiling at the hair ruffling.
"Fuck, yes. I mean...gods, I can't think of anything poetic when you say those kinds of things. Imagine I said something very charming." Jaskier leans in to place a small kiss on the curve of Geralt's jawline as soon as it is within reach. They don't seen to be able to keep their hands and mouths to themselves today.
"Hah. I can handle a probably. If you behave, I might run my fingers through your hair the way you like it. Let's go." He will do it anyway because he enjoys it as much as Geralt does. There's no one else he'd rather be than by the Witcher's side.
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
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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
He really didn't realize how much he cared until the bard nearly died from his own reckless wish with the djinn. He met Yennefer then, but his emotions for Jaskier changed as well. It will be very difficult to go on without him, and he knows it is inevitable, but he will probably distance himself from humanity for a time again. Perhaps go home and lick his wounds until Vesemir kicked him out. But that's not what he's thinking about when he's inside of his bard. Those are the things that haunts his dreams and his broodier moments, and not in their bedroom ever.
He is in no way immune to Jaskier's lust for him. Just the way the bard looks at him can get him to warm. He doesn't blush but he does enjoy the look of it in his bard's face. It's sweet, an unexpected detail of their lovemaking that makes it unique. Geralt watches as Jaskier runs his finger through his own hair, moving so eagerly along with Geralt's intense thrusts. He likes the dirty talk, the way filthy things spill off of Jaskier's elegant tongue, and sometimes a little whisper from Jaskier can get him riled up no matter where they are. His compliments do the same. He knows his lover.
Geralt gets very territorial if his scent isn't on Jaskier. He's never felt so possessive of anyone in his life, and it calls to a feral side of him that he rarely feeds, and yet Jaskier encourages it. He lets Geralt come on him or rub up entirely against him, leaving marks, making it so that if they come across anyone with a supernatural nose would know who he belongs to. It is a protection, a clear mine back off sign to those potential threats, but mostly just an instinct. He doesn't often care about the same, he's marked by Jaskier in so many other ways, but he likes the idea of smelling like Jaskier when he's not around. Perhaps being claimed is as good as claiming.
"Fuck, you know I will," Geralt growls and he's already tumbling over the edge by the time Jaskier comes on him, which only heightens the orgasm as it lengthens and lingers. He is always impressed with how Jaskier still manages to rock against him when they fuck, despite how firmly he holds onto him or pins him. The bard is never passive. Geralt sighs as his body shakes with pleasant release, setting Jaskier's legs down. He hates moving out of him but he has to, but he doesn't go far, moving between Jaskier's legs so he can rest his body on top of him. He is careful not to put all of his weight down, instead focusing on kissing Jaskier.
He kisses him for some time, long and languid, making up for all the times he hesitated from giving extra affection when they were still in uncertain times. Geralt nuzzles his nose and then buries his face in Jaskier's neck for a few seconds, breathing him in and then precisely and sharply biting it. He didn't get a chance to before, so now he does, immediately soothing the sting with his tongue. Only after doing that does he roll off him, resting on his back for a moment and breathing, simply enjoying the aftermath before he cleans them up.
"Jaskier ...." His voice is a light rasp, turning to look at him, golden eyes hazy. "When we get to that better town, I'm going to get us a good room." Geralt reaches out with his hand, brushing the back of his rough fingers against Jaskier's soft cheek. "And I'm going to let you fuck me the way you want." He needs it to be in a more secluded place, he can't let it happen in public like this. Too unsafe. It's a promise he intends to keep because Jaskier hasn't pushed him in the least on it, but he knows the bard wants it, longs for it. And he does too, if with some nerves attached.
Noo, no need to apologize at all. We're all having bad days. Take care bb.
His gasps break off into drawn-out moans as they come and only Geralt's hands on his leg and hip keep him from arching off the bedroll. Jaskier feels almost feverishly, his thought hazy and the nerves of his whole body singing with relief and satisfaction. And yet, a though still prevails and there's a small smile on the bard's lips as Geralt gently moves his legs off of his shoulders. Mine, mine.
"Gods, you're magnificent." They're sweaty and flushed red, but the Witcher never looked better than when they've made love. Jaskier should not think of it in those terms but there's no denying it, in his hear, and he won't lie to himself. He is looking pretty wrecked himself, mouth bitten and hair in disarray, Geralt's seed cooling between his legs, and even panting as he speaks.
His arms immediately wrap around Geralt's shoulders once the man is within reach and they start kissing, one hand burying itself on the soft white hair, scratching at the scalp lightly. Everything is good with the world right now, Jaskier's body relaxed with pleasure, his mind fuzzing at the edges. He tilts his chin up to expose more of his neck when the other man nuzzles him and the bite catches him off guard. It gets the bard to squeak and then mewls, tugging at Geralt hair not to pull him off of him but to encourage. A wet tongue runs over the bite a second later and Jaskier makes a giggling sound at the tickling sensation, pleased that Geralt did some extra marking of his own.
After Geralt rolls off of him, Jaskier gives the Witcher abut five seconds before he's moving too, curling against the man's side and sliding a hand up his stained abs. He leans forward to place a kiss on his chest and then rests his chin there, looking up at him as Geralt cups his chin. Breath catches in his throat and Jaskier chews his bottom lip, eyes widening in wonder and darkening with interest. It's the second time that his partner catches him by surprise in the span of five minutes. Tilting his head, he leans into the touch and smiles.
I'd love it. I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel...but tell me that again once we had a bath.
Once they had calmed down from their own orgasm and their brains aren't swimming on endorphins, it's what he means. It's not that he doesn't believe Geralt's words but he doesn't want the man to make promises on the heat of passion he might come to regret later. He knows Geralt would try to full fill them still and he wants his lover to be comfortable and to feel safe. Turning his face to the side, Jaskier kisses the palm of his hand.
"I'd do anything for you, even wait forever."
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He doesn't repeat the compliment but the way he openly appreciates Jaskier's beauty says plenty. He is magnificent as well. Geralt grunts when Jaskier almost immediately is on him after he rests back, one side of his mouth curving in fondness. He has to clean them off, but he will indulge a few seconds more. He likes when Jaskier rests his chin on his chest; he can hear him breathing, hear his heartbeat.
He runs his thumb along Jaskier's bottom lip, enjoying the spark of interest in his bard's eyes at the offer. He is too blissful at the moment to fluster, but he would have. Geralt isn't certain he has the words to explain why he's hesitant at all, only that he knows he is. Jaskier's been the first person he's let fuck him in decades, and it was always impersonal, and what's between them is anything but. Due to his own failures (thankfully).
He hmms at that and his golden eyes are so gentle and warm. "You know that I don't change my mind based on when I've come last." Geralt cups the back of Jaskier's head and tugs, pulling him into a slow kiss full of meaning even he doesn't fully grasp. He stops the kiss before it includes too much interest and before he can get it in his head to start it up again. Instead he kisses Jaskier's forehead and pushes him lightly so he can get up
He pauses to take a moment to dip his finger into Jaskier's come on his skin, tasting it. He can wipe this off and he'll still know the smell, the taste, and it will linger. It's better that Jaskier smells of him, so others are warned off, so monsters avoid a witcher's scent, so this is solely for Geralt's benefit. He keeps his eyes on his lover and brings back water, offering it to Jaskier to drink. He wouldn't say he's always this attentive to his lovers, but it helps that Jaskier has encouraged his small gestures of it before to the point where he naturally does it now.
"I want to ride your cock and I'm going to." It is mildly said but sexually direct, and he runs his fingers through Jaskier's hair. He's going to. Once certain requirements are done and he won't feel as unprotected. "And we're both going to fucking love it." That said, he kisses Jaskier firmly, waiting until he's had some of the water before tugging lightly on his hair. "Back in the water we go. This time I won't throw you."
He is still a little playful so he smirks. "Probably."
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Those days, Jaskier's well-fucked out moments are only for Geralt to see, and he also has all the bard's attention. Jaskier doesn't need Geralt to say that he likes what he sees, it's obvious enough. Despite his many past flings, very little people have looked at him the way Geralt does. As if he's worth keeping. As if he belongs to someone. Jaskier quite likes that look.
He likes curling around his partner's body even more, the offered trust and the desire. The confirmation that his partner won't change his mind is enough to get Jaskier a little flustered with future anticipation and looking very pleased. He puts all the affection he has to offer in the slow kiss they share, returning Geralt's own with enthusiasm. It ends all too quickly for his liking but he shifts away to give Geralt the room he needs to move, blue eyes looking intensely at the way the other man licks his fingers. There's a visible shudder racking through Jaskier's body at the view and then he smiles.
"I don't think you realize how hot that was. It's going to be on my mind forever. No songs would even make it justice...Not like I will write any!"
The reassurance is added quickly, just in case. After a flirty smile, Jaskier mutters a small thanks and takes the offered water. He hasn't realized how thirsty he was until then but he's no longer surprised that Geralt can anticipate his needs. He makes sure to leave some water for the other man too, handing him back the cup and then smiling at the hair ruffling.
"Fuck, yes. I mean...gods, I can't think of anything poetic when you say those kinds of things. Imagine I said something very charming." Jaskier leans in to place a small kiss on the curve of Geralt's jawline as soon as it is within reach. They don't seen to be able to keep their hands and mouths to themselves today.
"Hah. I can handle a probably. If you behave, I might run my fingers through your hair the way you like it. Let's go." He will do it anyway because he enjoys it as much as Geralt does. There's no one else he'd rather be than by the Witcher's side.