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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
no subject
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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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."
no subject
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.