Why the tone of surprise? I learned how to cook when I was a teenager. I cooked my own food when I was on my own, d'uh. We're in town, I should go to the market and get spices and lemons.
We don't have to put a name to it, I was just...thinking about loud. As always.
[ Geralt, please. ]Perfect. I make a wonderful braised venison. I'll need to get some potatoes and carrots. Better buy extra of those so Roach can have a nice meal too. And port wine! That's a must. I better go to the tavern before the market, play a few songs, get some coin....
The fewer people around, the fewer chances to be interrupted.
Things are relatively quiet in this town and the food is good, who knows if people will kick us out of the next one so. Since we're already here, let's take advantage of it.
The irony of his own words is lost to Jaskier, his mind busy running a mental list of the things he needs to buy and the ones he wants to buy, and how much coin he needs for everything.
The first step, the local tavern. They really got lucky with this town, it's filled with merchants and traders, people with cash who wants entertainment. It's easier to make money with songs here than when they end in some backwater village in the middle of no-fucking-where. An hour later, the bard leaves the place with his pockets heavier than he had them when he got in, and a chorus of cheerful goodbyes. It has been a good, quick way to get money and Jaskier takes a mental note to return to the tavern before they leave town for good. The extra money will do them good in the future when they had to face lean times.
The market is still busy at this hour and Jaskier almost gets lost from how big it is. He gets the meat, the wine, potatoes, carrots, spices and other condiments he needs but saves enough money to convince the innkeeper into letting him make use of the kitchen. It's still early so he feeds Roach the carrots, leaves the rest of the food in the inn's kitchen but takes with him the bottle of wine, and climbs the stairs to the room he shares with Geralt, two at a time. He's humming a new tune under his breath and making enough sounds that there's no way the Witcher didn't hear him coming a mile away by the time he opens the door.
"I'll let you know that I'm slowly stealing your horse's affections and she seems to finally like me." Jaskier says as greetings, smiling proudly. "Apparently, she's partial to being bribed by good vegetables."
How they got here, Geralt has stopped trying to question. The fact of the matter is that things are comfortable as of late, and maybe that should be worrying him more than it currently does. When Geralt is comfortable shit tends to hit the fan at some point, though for now he's taking his time to enjoy the reprieve. There are still lingering responsibilities, still paths he will eventually be drawn to whether through destiny or life being its usual funny self, but right now all he wants is to take a bath and eat a good meal for once. Surprisingly, he didn't think Jaskier would be the one making it.
He did as asked and got the bath ready while waiting for the bard, keeping it warm with the help of his own signs, and by the time Jaskier returns Geralt is halfway into the warm water, naked as can be. The rambling about his horse earns a light scoff of amusement as he settles in for good, leaning back against the side of the tub as he eyes Jaskier.
"It only took her, what, ten years?" A dry comment paired with a light smirk. "Maybe next time she'll let you ride her on your own without kicking."
"A good thing is worth waiting for. " He might not be talking only about the horse, given how much it also took them to start a relationship. Or whatever one would call what they were doing. Geralt probably doesn't like labels, and Jaskier knows his owns feelings, so they seem unnecessary.
"A good ride is always nice, I wouldn't say no." Jaskier sends Geralt a smile back, spreading slowly on his face, appreciative of the display of skin he can see and the good humor his partner seems to be in. If the bard is still talking in double meaning, he's very casual about it.
He leans on the doorframe of the bathroom for a moment longer, relaxing and holding the bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. Jaskier is rarely quiet or still but he's taking a brief moment to appreciate the scene before he starts to move again around the room. It takes all his will power to tear his eyes apart from Geralt's naked, wet muscles.
"I talked to the innkeeper and left the food in his kitchen. His wife will let me use it later to cook."
He drops the glasses on a nearby table, uncorks the wine bottle and put it next to them to let it breathe. His back is to Geralt but it's easy to see that Jaskier is looking around for the scented oils and bath salts he takes with him on their travels because he's sure the other man added none of that to the bath. He lets a thoughtful hum after realizing the salts must still be somewhere in his bag, grabs only a small vial of oil that smells like sandalwood and fills the two glasses of wine.
"Were you bored without me?" Jaskier kneels beside the tub, leaving the glasses and bottle within reach in the wood stool nearby, and rest his arms on the rim.
Geralt's eyes continue to follow Jaskier until he's behind him, taking the moment to sink further into the bath instead. No, of course he hadn't bothered with any scents or salts himself, though he knows Jaskier won't be able to resist. The warmth is more than enough for him but the moment he catches whiff of the sandalwood, he knows he has no choice otherwise.
"Hmm. I've got high expectations now, just so you know." And his stomach does rumble just a bit as a reminder of how hungry he is, but he can wait. From what he gathers, it will be worth it.
Eyes meet the bard's again when he crouches down, a position they've both been in together many times now. The context tonight feels different though, whether Geralt's own fault or the mood simply falling into place. The low lighting of the room is doing the shadows on Jaskier's features a favor and Geralt finds himself thinking back to a good ride.
"Going out of my mind," he responds dryly, offering the other man a slow blink. "The peace and quiet were just too much."
Jaskier understands that Geralt loves his horse but that is no reason to smell the same way. Not like Jaskier minds, after all he can't smell much better than the Witcher, they all travel the same roads and stay next to the same horse.
"I promise you that once you taste my cooking, you won't want to eat anything else." Prideful much, perhaps, but Jaskier is confident enough in his cooking abilities to make his words sound like an honest fact. "You'll just have to wait for a bit, I refuse to cook with filth on me. That would ruin the dish."
The tip of his fingers brushes the surface of the water, letting a soft, pleased hum at the warmth, his eyes never leaving Geralt's. They've been in this position before but it's true that it feels different, quieter, better. Maybe it's because there's none of the usual tension on Geralt's body when he only wants to take a bath in peace and Jaskier is annoying him.
"I knew it." His smile is quickly followed by a soft laugh, musical, and he splashes some water unto Geralt's chest with his fingers. He would like to get into the bath and relax too but..."Scoot forward a bit, let me wash your hair."
Jaskier doesn't wait for Geralt to move, shifting his own body so he's kneeling behind the tub, wetting his hands in the water and then carding his fingers through the white strands. Truth be told, unless he's fighting, Geralt keeps it in good condition. It's only that the winds might tangle it easier than short hair and carry dust and pollen with it. And that Geralt is fighting all the time.
Geralt is surprisingly disappointed when Jaskier doesn't start to undress and get in the tub with him, but instead offers to wash his hair. That ritual is also nice though, giving them a moment to relax. He knows the man enjoys pampering him just as much as Geralt enjoys the rare moment to get something like a massage. He's given in more and more over the years.
Sitting up more, Geralt leans forward enough, one arm resting against the side of the tub. He turns his head just so, enough to glance over his shoulder.
"I'm surprised you're not halfway into the water already." There's a light amusement gracing his tone but then he looks forward again, trusting Jaskier at his back.
"Well, I..." Jaskier's confidence falters for a second and there's the chance that Geralt saw the start of a blush creeping up the younger man's cheeks.
He wants to press his body against Geralt without clothes in the way, there's no denying that, but he's also doubting himself. He's not a handsome woman like Yennefer with long hair and a nice round chest, or a strong warrior like Geralt, with wide shoulders and legs that go on for days. He's just...him. Slender and toned from years travelling and dancing, a flat stomach and a lithe waist. Not bad but not impressive to the eyes either.
"I will get in it later." He promises. It's not just that he's giving himself time, Jaskier enjoys taking care of Geralt and thank him for all the time the other man looks after him.
He cups water into the palm of his hand and let is fall on the back of Geralt's head, getting his hair wet so he can run his fingers through it more easily without pulling painfully at it. He has the hands of a musician, long fingers that look delicate, skin rougher at the tip from years and years of playing with the cords of his lute. Once he's satisfied with how clean the white hair looks, Jaskier's nails lightly scratch the scalp then hands wander further down to massage the tense muscles of Geralt's neck and shoulders. .
Geralt would argue if he knew Jaskier's innermost thoughts, if he knew how insecure he felt about his body, but he isn't skilled in the invasive art of mind reading, only body language. As water is cupped over his head though Geralt shuts his eyes and enjoys the feeling of fingers in his hair, over sore muscles, always tense regardless of how long he's been fighting or not.
There's moments of pleasant silence in between, the gentle sounds of the water and light brushing all that interrupts, along with some muffled voices from downstairs. Geralt is content but can't help but be the one to speak up again first:
"You've always been too good at this." His voice is calm, almost slurred from just how relaxed he is.
His personal flaws and self-esteem are not something Jaskier discusses often in the open, most of the time he decides to stay blind to them. That's why chasing after lovers who were already married and that couldn't lead to anything serious had been easier in the past. They all wanted something fleeting, fun, and go their way. Or rather, have Jaskier leaving.
Here and now all that doesn't matter, Jaskier's affections and interest is genuine and it's both exciting and frightening. He's used to gambling but not with his heart. Geralt is relaxing under his ministrations and a soft smile spreads on the young man's lips, eyes fond and amused.
"There's no such thing as being too good at massages, my dear Witcher." He reply comes as the bard's fingers work on a particular hard knot between Geralt's shoulder blades. "What if all this is a ruse to get you to relax and lower your guards, so I can steal a kiss without you knowing until it's too late?"
He leaned in and kissed the crown of Geralt's head as if to prove his point. Of course, it isn't much of a ruse if he tells his partner beforehand. "The big white wolf, at ease for once. It's a good look on you, Geralt. I like being the cause of it."
That knot is tight and he lets out a little grunt when fingers press harder into it, rolling his head some to try and relax the muscles more. Maybe he's been tenser than he thought for reasons beyond the typical fighting and traveling.
An amused breath escapes him at the question followed by that kiss. He hums his response and in a moment of inspiration, his arm pulls back to find the back of Jaskier's neck and pull him down closer, a tip of his head angling a surprise kiss of his own to the man's lips. Water sploshes and runs down Jaskier's neck and over his shirt, but Geralt doesn't seem to pay that any mind as he hums into the bard's mouth next, pulling back with an all-too-pleased expression.
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
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...If you need to put it like that.
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We don't have to put a name to it, I was just...thinking about loud. As always.
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It would be something like that. Just us.
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Just us is more than good enough for me.
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I had a feeling you wouldn't protest.
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The fewer people around, the fewer chances to be interrupted.
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What exactly do you not want interrupted?
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Er. Our dinner?
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We're lucky enough to have a quiet room to share it in.
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A room that has a table, so that will be extra useful.
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Hmm... [now his mind is the one wandering. he needs to get it together.] I could also use a bath.
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Nothing wrong with letting the mind wander, nothing at all. ]
You could relax in the bathtub while I go buy what we need for dinner. And maybe I could join you once I get back. To save time and all.
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The irony of his own words is lost to Jaskier, his mind busy running a mental list of the things he needs to buy and the ones he wants to buy, and how much coin he needs for everything.
The first step, the local tavern. They really got lucky with this town, it's filled with merchants and traders, people with cash who wants entertainment. It's easier to make money with songs here than when they end in some backwater village in the middle of no-fucking-where. An hour later, the bard leaves the place with his pockets heavier than he had them when he got in, and a chorus of cheerful goodbyes. It has been a good, quick way to get money and Jaskier takes a mental note to return to the tavern before they leave town for good. The extra money will do them good in the future when they had to face lean times.
The market is still busy at this hour and Jaskier almost gets lost from how big it is. He gets the meat, the wine, potatoes, carrots, spices and other condiments he needs but saves enough money to convince the innkeeper into letting him make use of the kitchen. It's still early so he feeds Roach the carrots, leaves the rest of the food in the inn's kitchen but takes with him the bottle of wine, and climbs the stairs to the room he shares with Geralt, two at a time. He's humming a new tune under his breath and making enough sounds that there's no way the Witcher didn't hear him coming a mile away by the time he opens the door.
"I'll let you know that I'm slowly stealing your horse's affections and she seems to finally like me." Jaskier says as greetings, smiling proudly. "Apparently, she's partial to being bribed by good vegetables."
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He did as asked and got the bath ready while waiting for the bard, keeping it warm with the help of his own signs, and by the time Jaskier returns Geralt is halfway into the warm water, naked as can be. The rambling about his horse earns a light scoff of amusement as he settles in for good, leaning back against the side of the tub as he eyes Jaskier.
"It only took her, what, ten years?" A dry comment paired with a light smirk. "Maybe next time she'll let you ride her on your own without kicking."
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"A good ride is always nice, I wouldn't say no." Jaskier sends Geralt a smile back, spreading slowly on his face, appreciative of the display of skin he can see and the good humor his partner seems to be in. If the bard is still talking in double meaning, he's very casual about it.
He leans on the doorframe of the bathroom for a moment longer, relaxing and holding the bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. Jaskier is rarely quiet or still but he's taking a brief moment to appreciate the scene before he starts to move again around the room. It takes all his will power to tear his eyes apart from Geralt's naked, wet muscles.
"I talked to the innkeeper and left the food in his kitchen. His wife will let me use it later to cook."
He drops the glasses on a nearby table, uncorks the wine bottle and put it next to them to let it breathe. His back is to Geralt but it's easy to see that Jaskier is looking around for the scented oils and bath salts he takes with him on their travels because he's sure the other man added none of that to the bath. He lets a thoughtful hum after realizing the salts must still be somewhere in his bag, grabs only a small vial of oil that smells like sandalwood and fills the two glasses of wine.
"Were you bored without me?" Jaskier kneels beside the tub, leaving the glasses and bottle within reach in the wood stool nearby, and rest his arms on the rim.
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"Hmm. I've got high expectations now, just so you know." And his stomach does rumble just a bit as a reminder of how hungry he is, but he can wait. From what he gathers, it will be worth it.
Eyes meet the bard's again when he crouches down, a position they've both been in together many times now. The context tonight feels different though, whether Geralt's own fault or the mood simply falling into place. The low lighting of the room is doing the shadows on Jaskier's features a favor and Geralt finds himself thinking back to a good ride.
"Going out of my mind," he responds dryly, offering the other man a slow blink. "The peace and quiet were just too much."
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"I promise you that once you taste my cooking, you won't want to eat anything else." Prideful much, perhaps, but Jaskier is confident enough in his cooking abilities to make his words sound like an honest fact. "You'll just have to wait for a bit, I refuse to cook with filth on me. That would ruin the dish."
The tip of his fingers brushes the surface of the water, letting a soft, pleased hum at the warmth, his eyes never leaving Geralt's. They've been in this position before but it's true that it feels different, quieter, better. Maybe it's because there's none of the usual tension on Geralt's body when he only wants to take a bath in peace and Jaskier is annoying him.
"I knew it." His smile is quickly followed by a soft laugh, musical, and he splashes some water unto Geralt's chest with his fingers. He would like to get into the bath and relax too but..."Scoot forward a bit, let me wash your hair."
Jaskier doesn't wait for Geralt to move, shifting his own body so he's kneeling behind the tub, wetting his hands in the water and then carding his fingers through the white strands. Truth be told, unless he's fighting, Geralt keeps it in good condition. It's only that the winds might tangle it easier than short hair and carry dust and pollen with it. And that Geralt is fighting all the time.
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Sitting up more, Geralt leans forward enough, one arm resting against the side of the tub. He turns his head just so, enough to glance over his shoulder.
"I'm surprised you're not halfway into the water already." There's a light amusement gracing his tone but then he looks forward again, trusting Jaskier at his back.
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He wants to press his body against Geralt without clothes in the way, there's no denying that, but he's also doubting himself. He's not a handsome woman like Yennefer with long hair and a nice round chest, or a strong warrior like Geralt, with wide shoulders and legs that go on for days. He's just...him. Slender and toned from years travelling and dancing, a flat stomach and a lithe waist. Not bad but not impressive to the eyes either.
"I will get in it later." He promises. It's not just that he's giving himself time, Jaskier enjoys taking care of Geralt and thank him for all the time the other man looks after him.
He cups water into the palm of his hand and let is fall on the back of Geralt's head, getting his hair wet so he can run his fingers through it more easily without pulling painfully at it. He has the hands of a musician, long fingers that look delicate, skin rougher at the tip from years and years of playing with the cords of his lute. Once he's satisfied with how clean the white hair looks, Jaskier's nails lightly scratch the scalp then hands wander further down to massage the tense muscles of Geralt's neck and shoulders. .
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There's moments of pleasant silence in between, the gentle sounds of the water and light brushing all that interrupts, along with some muffled voices from downstairs. Geralt is content but can't help but be the one to speak up again first:
"You've always been too good at this." His voice is calm, almost slurred from just how relaxed he is.
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Here and now all that doesn't matter, Jaskier's affections and interest is genuine and it's both exciting and frightening. He's used to gambling but not with his heart. Geralt is relaxing under his ministrations and a soft smile spreads on the young man's lips, eyes fond and amused.
"There's no such thing as being too good at massages, my dear Witcher." He reply comes as the bard's fingers work on a particular hard knot between Geralt's shoulder blades. "What if all this is a ruse to get you to relax and lower your guards, so I can steal a kiss without you knowing until it's too late?"
He leaned in and kissed the crown of Geralt's head as if to prove his point. Of course, it isn't much of a ruse if he tells his partner beforehand. "The big white wolf, at ease for once. It's a good look on you, Geralt. I like being the cause of it."
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An amused breath escapes him at the question followed by that kiss. He hums his response and in a moment of inspiration, his arm pulls back to find the back of Jaskier's neck and pull him down closer, a tip of his head angling a surprise kiss of his own to the man's lips. Water sploshes and runs down Jaskier's neck and over his shirt, but Geralt doesn't seem to pay that any mind as he hums into the bard's mouth next, pulling back with an all-too-pleased expression.
"I could get used to it as well."
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y-you saw nothing
👀
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