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.
Geralt rolling his shoulders makes it easier and Jaskier doesn't stop sliding his hands over the sore spots until he can feel the skin under his fingers go tender. He's so focused that when a warm hand clams over his nape he lets out a surprised yelp that is soon swallowed by Geralt's lips.
He almost falls forward into the bathtub, the left hand slipping down Geralt's arms and ending inside the water. Jaskier makes a pleased sound against the other's mouth, eyes closed and tilting his head so get a better angle. There's a happy smile on his face by the time the kiss ends.
"You're getting me all wet." It slips out of his mouth before Jaskier's brain catches up on what his tongue said. Then he flushes. "I meant the clothes!" He amended quickly, voice a little higher. "I might as well take these off and get into the water before I catch a cold."
He stands up quickly, almost slipping on the water that is now covering some of the wood boards. So much for trying to be smooth, it's like his flirting skills go out of the window the moment Geralt's near.
Jaskier doesn't go too far away from the bathtub or tries to hide, but he doesn't look directly at Geralt either as he undresses. He takes off his boots and socks first, then his shirt, carefully folding it before it ends on another stool. When the bard finally strips out of his pants and undergarments, he's still not looking at Geralt's reaction. He shudders at the cold air hitting his skin and waves a hand towards the bathtub.
There's the strong urge to respond with That's the point, but Geralt spares the other any further embarrassment, instead chuckling internally at the awkwardness. Traveling together as often as they have, it isn't strange to have seen one another naked, though before today Geralt's eye never lingered, nor did his imagination. He doesn't think Jaskier has anything to be ashamed of, trim and lithe enough for a traveling bard who doesn't swing a heavy sword around on a daily basis. To compare himself to Geralt would not be fair and the witcher doesn't have any complaints to give.
He's respectful enough not to stare too long though, leaning back against the tub's side again to give him room to join, both arms resting on either side now. It's big enough for two but definitely going to put them in an intimate spot.
"I've kept it warm like I said," he comments, fingers warming the water even more, enough to lightly steam across the top. He doesn't hide his gaze once Jaskier starts to get into the water though, a lingering haze of want clear in his expression. It's been too long.
Embarrassed as Jaskier might have been, his amusement at hearing Geralt say something like that would have made it worth it. It's true that they've seen each other with very few clothes before but that was when Jaskier had no hopes about their partnership being anything but a good friendship. It feels special now because of their, er, relationship upgrade.
"Ahh, that you did. Thank you." Jaskier lets out a contented hiss once he gets into the tub and the water warms his skin. He could just about melt, he hadn't realized how cold he was getting until now. The bard hums deep in his chest for a few seconds, basking in the wonder of Geralt's magic and almost forgetting the man is there with him. His distraction doesn't last because not even a blind man would miss the look Geralt is giving him.
The bathtub isn't small but it's not leaving them a lot of room to move either, especially when one of the men inside it has the body of an Olympian athlete. They're already touching in places, legs pressing close, feet occasionally brushing. Geralt's arms are open and they look so inviting that Jaskier scoots closer and puts his own around the man's waist, chest to chest.
"Hi." It comes out like a purr, and the brief greeting is all the warning Jaskier gives to Geralt before he's pressing his lips to the curve of the man's jaw, peppering it with small kisses. He knows Geralt has liked that when they were in the cave.
"Hm, you're still tense..." There's hot breath on the Witcher's neck before water-wet lips lightly graze his skin. "We should do something about that."
When Jaskier moves closer Geralt makes sure to spread his knees enough to make room for him, an arm slipping back into the water to wrap around his shoulders. This closeness is nice though the fact that they're both naked only adds to the scandalous nature, and reminds Geralt of how long it's been since he was last intimate with anyone.
"Hi," he returns before lips find his jaw and neck, and Geralt tips his head to one side with a quiet, pleased sound. He enjoys this boldness from Jaskier where he's normally bumbling out of nerves alone, but the way he pushes himself to act on his desires is satisfying. It encourages Geralt as well, his hand rubbing across Jaskier's shoulders before lowering in the water to rub down his back instead.
"Hmm I can think of a couple ways to help," he mutters, both hands opting to caress down Jaskier's sides and pull him in closer, hip to hip.
It helps a lot that Geralt in comparison keeps a calm and put together demeanor. It both helps Jaskier feel at ease and it inspires him to try and see what could break the Witcher's composure. The way the man offers and responds to touches it's intoxicating, often stealing Jaskier's common sense.
"Funny, I also have some ideas of my own." He lets out pleased little whimper against Geralt's collarbone when the man pulls him even closer, making it obvious that they're both very much into the other. Also making it obvious that Geralt is a big man, everywhere. The bard's lips curl into a smile, arching his spine to push against the wandering hand on his back, encouraging it to wander further. Jaskier tilts his head down, looking at Geralt through his long lashes as if asking for permission, then his finger traces the curve of the wolf medallion resting between the man's pecs.
Geralt never takes it off and even if Jaskier doesn't understand what it stands for, not fully, he knows it must mean a lot to the other man. He knows it's important enough not to mention it on any of his songs, lest some idiot gets the bright idea of attempting to steal from Geralt of Rivia to best him. It was the medallion and Geralt's hair that gave Jaskier the idea of calling him the White Wolf and he's glad that it's now stuck in people's mind over the less flattering nickname of The Butcher of Blaviken. The has learned his lesson with that name back in the day, and never used it again.
His hands close around the medallion, his chin tilts up, and he tugs at the chain to bring their faces close. His lips meet Geralt again because Jaskier just can't not kiss him when they're this close and he's allowed to get his hands all over his gorgeous partner. It's not desperate, because he knows Geralt isn't leaving, but it's not a tame kiss either. It's all tongue and teeth, Jaskier puts into it everything he can't put into songs, into words. His hips buck, rutting against Geralt's, pressing their growing hardness together. The angle is nice but Jaskier's knees are suffering a bit and he briefly wonders if he could get away with actually sitting on Geralt's lap.
There's going to be a lot of spilled water to clean up but Geralt isn't even thinking of that right now. Instead, he's focused on the way the other man sounds when he whimpers, how he feels beneath his fingers with each shift of muscle, how he isn't afraid to look Geralt in the eye and take what he desires. It's refreshing. Paying for one night of lust will never compare to true intimacy.
Jaskier traces his medallion as Geralt watches, wondering what he's thinking. Hands lower and palm down Jaskier's sides beneath the water still, until he's tugged in for a kiss and they land on his rear instead, hauling him up closer. Sitting in his lap is no problem and Geralt is happy to take the brunt of any uncomfortable position, especially if it means they get to rub up against one another like this.
He buries a low, pleased sound into Jaskier's mouth, against his tongue, the rutting only urging Geralt's hips to move as well. He presses up to meet Jaskier's body, arousal clear as they press and rub together beneath the water, and Geralt's hands squeeze against Jackier's backside with each rock of his hips, helping him move. Teeth tug on the man's bottom lip and he's quick to soothe over with his tongue next, to lick back into Jaskier's mouth until even Geralt is left breathing harder through his nose.
Water dries out eventually, for all Jaskier cares about, they could turn the bathtub upside down and fuck on the floor. It wouldn't be comfortable for long, though, and if they even get to that point, he wants to take his sweet time pulling Geralt apart. He wants the man to know how much this means to him and just how much he appreciates getting touched back.
Big hands, skin rough from years carrying heavy swords, slide over his ass and the sounds Jaskier makes in response would embarrass him if he now bothered with menial things like shame. His cock jerks at the sound Geralt makes against his mouth and the nipping kiss that leaves him shuddering.
"No song..." Jaskier pants out, pulling back away only an inch apart to breathe, his fingers tracing the curve of Geralt's jawline. He grabs at the Witcher's shoulders to give himself more leverage, hips canting, trying to pull more delicious sounds from Geralt. "No poem or ballad...would ever compare to this."
His voice is low and rough, painfully honest coming from a man like him and he can't resist pressing a loving kiss to Geralt's lower lip. The Witcher had been hauling him up and holding his weight, he might as well go all the way. Jaskier squeezes his shoulders briefly to let the other know he's going to move, body shaking slightly. He lifts himself up on unsteady thighs, his legs around each side of Geralt's waist, which leaves him almost unbearably exposed, and he grinds down on the man's lap. Hard.
One of his arms goes around Geralt's neck for balance and his right-hand slide between their chest, fingers tracing the scars and playfully dipping into Geralt's navel before they wrap around the man's cock and give it a jerk. Jaskier blinks for a few seconds, lost in his wonder. He's noted the size of the bulge in Geralt's breeches before, a bard has eyes thank you very much, but now it feels impossibly huge. His brain provides a brief but heartfelt 'Oh, fuck' along with some questions such as how would Geralt's cock fit into his mouth, into him. He tries to keep those thought to himself, he really does. His mouth, however, has other plans.
It appears when allowed to touch freely Jaskier's attentions are even more intensely given, though Geralt has no room for complaint. In fact, he's drawn to the way the other man moves with a confidence he's only seen when he performs, as though he's finally getting to do what he's been dying to all along. The softer, sweeter touches paired with the bold and wanting, earn Geralt's attention and even tug on heartstrings witchers supposedly don't possess. He kisses the man with hunger but also love, a sweetness Geralt hasn't felt aimed toward him in some time.
The harder grinding pulls a sharp inhale from the witcher and he even lets out a low growl of need, fingers biting into Jaskier's hips with his supportive grip. Eyes fall down Jaskier's chest and stomach, to his exposed cock and thighs, before flickering up again to meet that heated blue gaze.
"Fuck, where have you been hiding this all along?" He asks before a new shift offers a hand on his dick, pulling another growl from Geralt's throat. His eyes shut briefly from the pleasure, his own hands continuing to wander and knead at Jaskier's body, his ass, his thighs - before that question hits.
He wonders if Jaskier can feel the way heat immediately pools in Geralt's gut and makes his arousal throb with need, though he can surely feel the grip he has on his rear, head tipped back and breathing noticeably more labored than usual.
"I wouldn't know," he starts slowly, quickly wetting his lips as he presses hips up into Jaskier's hold. "But I wouldn't stop you from sating your curiosity."
Jaskier might be totally inept in the art of fighting but he compensates it by being skilled in more privates areas. Once he's sure the other person is on the same page as him, he's a very enthusiastic partner that cares about his lover's needs.
He feels all that attention returned back to him when Geralt and he kiss and hold each other. As if they can't get enough of the taste of the other's lips, the warmth of their skin. Jaskier wants to press his mouth to each one of Geralt's scars, honor all the sacrifices the Witcher had to make over the decades so others could survive. Being together might not erase the bad memories but it could help bury them into sweeter ones.
The growl feels like music to his ears and the question startles a happy laugh out of him. Jaskier doesn't giggle, he so does not, but it was...a close thing. He rolls his hips a little, enjoying the hold Geralt has on him and all the touches. His own skin feels like it's on fire, his breath coming out in short pants.
"I've been following a rather stubborn man. Good thing he put up with me instead of telling me to go away."
For someone who is always so in control of his emotions, it's surprisingly easy to tell that Geralt is enjoying the attention. Jaskier almost doesn’t know how to cope with the fact that he enjoys it so much, that he would do anything Geralt ever tells him if he gets to see him blissed out in exchange.
A mangled noise that could have been Geralt's name at some point escapes his throat when fingers knead at Jaskier's ass, making him squeeze the Witcher's body with his thighs. Making an effort to focus, he strokes his dick again, now with even more intent. His hand rubs up the length, thumb circling the crown and then pressing down the slit.
"I'd love to sate my curiosity with you." Jaskier leans his head forward until he can press his forehead against Geralt's, smiling. Well then, go big or go home, as they say. "We should move to the bed."
"Good thing he failed in trying." He's dreamt of getting this close for some time now, thought of it at night when he should have been focusing on sleeping, at every turn when Jaskier would be walking too far ahead. Being able to explore this... relationship with another person has been eye-opening for the witcher, when he's been closed off for so very long. Jaskier isn't a common whore only showing his interest because of his coin - he's a friend and a true companion. Knowing how he sounds when he moans is just a privilege now.
Pressing up into his hand again, Geralt exhales with a shaky breath from the way Jaskier is playing him so easily, calloused fingertips only adding to the sensitivity. Forehead to forehead, Geralt can close his eyes and breathe in the moment, hearing the quickened pulse of the other man, smelling his arousal and excitement. He makes up his mind right then and there, humming quietly before he gives a brief warning: "Hold on."
Moments later Geralt's wrapping an arm around his partner and using the other to hoist them both up out of the tub, dripping wet as he steps out with Jaskier in his arms. Grabbing a towel to toss onto the bed (because they'll surely regret sleeping on soggy sheets later) he carries them both over to sit, hauling Jaskier with him as he kisses up the column of his neck almost possessively, lips and teeth sucking at the water dripping from his jaw. Hands are still touching Jaskier with dominating curiosity of his own, one coming around now to finally palm at the man's neglected cock.
"Can't win at everything." Jaskier jokes lightly, trying to downplay how painful it had been at times to keep his distance from the other man.
Geralt's words are touching, and he imagines this might be the Witcher's way of apologizing for the wasted time. It's not as if it was his fault, they were really not ready for these kinds of things. It took Jaskier a decade and a life-threatening blizzard to act on his feelings, no wonder Yenefer often said men were idiots.
"Hold o...? Oh!" Jaskier had been busy basking on the heat of Geralt's body, on how attractive are the sounds he makes when he's happy and aroused when he's suddenly hauled up like he weighs nothing. In retrospect, he should have seen that coming, Geralt is a man of action and he loves him all the more for it.
Out of instinct, the bard's legs tighten around Geralt's waist and his arms hold onto the man's shoulders, trapping his own hardness against their stomachs. To say that this position is giving Jaskier ideas would be an understatement, Geralt lips on his neck only encourage such thoughts. A fine tremble shivers through his body and Jaskier tilts his chin up, baring a pale, unmarked neck for his wolf.
His mouth was supposed to be busy by now but he won't stop Geralt from satisfying his curiosity if he wants to do some exploring of his own. They never dared until now, not properly, and Jaskier is sure he wouldn't deny the man anything. His eyes are half lidded and he's panting with his mouth slightly open by the time a big, strong hand tugs at his cock. Jaskier spine goes nearly liquid and he lets out a low, musical moan. A hand rise up and clutch at Geralt's hair, pulling at it a little to test his reaction. The other slides down Geralt's chest to rub one of his nipples with his thumb.
"You're a sweetheart..." And isn't that such a fun thing to say to a man like Geralt? He's sure not a lot of people would agree. Jaskier would argue with them all. "But I really want to get my mouth on you and suck you off."
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
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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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He almost falls forward into the bathtub, the left hand slipping down Geralt's arms and ending inside the water. Jaskier makes a pleased sound against the other's mouth, eyes closed and tilting his head so get a better angle. There's a happy smile on his face by the time the kiss ends.
"You're getting me all wet." It slips out of his mouth before Jaskier's brain catches up on what his tongue said. Then he flushes. "I meant the clothes!" He amended quickly, voice a little higher. "I might as well take these off and get into the water before I catch a cold."
He stands up quickly, almost slipping on the water that is now covering some of the wood boards. So much for trying to be smooth, it's like his flirting skills go out of the window the moment Geralt's near.
Jaskier doesn't go too far away from the bathtub or tries to hide, but he doesn't look directly at Geralt either as he undresses. He takes off his boots and socks first, then his shirt, carefully folding it before it ends on another stool. When the bard finally strips out of his pants and undergarments, he's still not looking at Geralt's reaction. He shudders at the cold air hitting his skin and waves a hand towards the bathtub.
"Make room for me?"
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He's respectful enough not to stare too long though, leaning back against the tub's side again to give him room to join, both arms resting on either side now. It's big enough for two but definitely going to put them in an intimate spot.
"I've kept it warm like I said," he comments, fingers warming the water even more, enough to lightly steam across the top. He doesn't hide his gaze once Jaskier starts to get into the water though, a lingering haze of want clear in his expression. It's been too long.
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"Ahh, that you did. Thank you." Jaskier lets out a contented hiss once he gets into the tub and the water warms his skin. He could just about melt, he hadn't realized how cold he was getting until now. The bard hums deep in his chest for a few seconds, basking in the wonder of Geralt's magic and almost forgetting the man is there with him. His distraction doesn't last because not even a blind man would miss the look Geralt is giving him.
The bathtub isn't small but it's not leaving them a lot of room to move either, especially when one of the men inside it has the body of an Olympian athlete. They're already touching in places, legs pressing close, feet occasionally brushing. Geralt's arms are open and they look so inviting that Jaskier scoots closer and puts his own around the man's waist, chest to chest.
"Hi." It comes out like a purr, and the brief greeting is all the warning Jaskier gives to Geralt before he's pressing his lips to the curve of the man's jaw, peppering it with small kisses. He knows Geralt has liked that when they were in the cave.
"Hm, you're still tense..." There's hot breath on the Witcher's neck before water-wet lips lightly graze his skin. "We should do something about that."
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"Hi," he returns before lips find his jaw and neck, and Geralt tips his head to one side with a quiet, pleased sound. He enjoys this boldness from Jaskier where he's normally bumbling out of nerves alone, but the way he pushes himself to act on his desires is satisfying. It encourages Geralt as well, his hand rubbing across Jaskier's shoulders before lowering in the water to rub down his back instead.
"Hmm I can think of a couple ways to help," he mutters, both hands opting to caress down Jaskier's sides and pull him in closer, hip to hip.
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"Funny, I also have some ideas of my own." He lets out pleased little whimper against Geralt's collarbone when the man pulls him even closer, making it obvious that they're both very much into the other. Also making it obvious that Geralt is a big man, everywhere. The bard's lips curl into a smile, arching his spine to push against the wandering hand on his back, encouraging it to wander further. Jaskier tilts his head down, looking at Geralt through his long lashes as if asking for permission, then his finger traces the curve of the wolf medallion resting between the man's pecs.
Geralt never takes it off and even if Jaskier doesn't understand what it stands for, not fully, he knows it must mean a lot to the other man. He knows it's important enough not to mention it on any of his songs, lest some idiot gets the bright idea of attempting to steal from Geralt of Rivia to best him. It was the medallion and Geralt's hair that gave Jaskier the idea of calling him the White Wolf and he's glad that it's now stuck in people's mind over the less flattering nickname of The Butcher of Blaviken. The has learned his lesson with that name back in the day, and never used it again.
His hands close around the medallion, his chin tilts up, and he tugs at the chain to bring their faces close. His lips meet Geralt again because Jaskier just can't not kiss him when they're this close and he's allowed to get his hands all over his gorgeous partner. It's not desperate, because he knows Geralt isn't leaving, but it's not a tame kiss either. It's all tongue and teeth, Jaskier puts into it everything he can't put into songs, into words. His hips buck, rutting against Geralt's, pressing their growing hardness together. The angle is nice but Jaskier's knees are suffering a bit and he briefly wonders if he could get away with actually sitting on Geralt's lap.
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Jaskier traces his medallion as Geralt watches, wondering what he's thinking. Hands lower and palm down Jaskier's sides beneath the water still, until he's tugged in for a kiss and they land on his rear instead, hauling him up closer. Sitting in his lap is no problem and Geralt is happy to take the brunt of any uncomfortable position, especially if it means they get to rub up against one another like this.
He buries a low, pleased sound into Jaskier's mouth, against his tongue, the rutting only urging Geralt's hips to move as well. He presses up to meet Jaskier's body, arousal clear as they press and rub together beneath the water, and Geralt's hands squeeze against Jackier's backside with each rock of his hips, helping him move. Teeth tug on the man's bottom lip and he's quick to soothe over with his tongue next, to lick back into Jaskier's mouth until even Geralt is left breathing harder through his nose.
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Big hands, skin rough from years carrying heavy swords, slide over his ass and the sounds Jaskier makes in response would embarrass him if he now bothered with menial things like shame. His cock jerks at the sound Geralt makes against his mouth and the nipping kiss that leaves him shuddering.
"No song..." Jaskier pants out, pulling back away only an inch apart to breathe, his fingers tracing the curve of Geralt's jawline. He grabs at the Witcher's shoulders to give himself more leverage, hips canting, trying to pull more delicious sounds from Geralt. "No poem or ballad...would ever compare to this."
His voice is low and rough, painfully honest coming from a man like him and he can't resist pressing a loving kiss to Geralt's lower lip. The Witcher had been hauling him up and holding his weight, he might as well go all the way. Jaskier squeezes his shoulders briefly to let the other know he's going to move, body shaking slightly. He lifts himself up on unsteady thighs, his legs around each side of Geralt's waist, which leaves him almost unbearably exposed, and he grinds down on the man's lap. Hard.
One of his arms goes around Geralt's neck for balance and his right-hand slide between their chest, fingers tracing the scars and playfully dipping into Geralt's navel before they wrap around the man's cock and give it a jerk. Jaskier blinks for a few seconds, lost in his wonder. He's noted the size of the bulge in Geralt's breeches before, a bard has eyes thank you very much, but now it feels impossibly huge. His brain provides a brief but heartfelt 'Oh, fuck' along with some questions such as how would Geralt's cock fit into his mouth, into him. He tries to keep those thought to himself, he really does. His mouth, however, has other plans.
"So, aah...do Witchers taste any different...?"
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The harder grinding pulls a sharp inhale from the witcher and he even lets out a low growl of need, fingers biting into Jaskier's hips with his supportive grip. Eyes fall down Jaskier's chest and stomach, to his exposed cock and thighs, before flickering up again to meet that heated blue gaze.
"Fuck, where have you been hiding this all along?" He asks before a new shift offers a hand on his dick, pulling another growl from Geralt's throat. His eyes shut briefly from the pleasure, his own hands continuing to wander and knead at Jaskier's body, his ass, his thighs - before that question hits.
He wonders if Jaskier can feel the way heat immediately pools in Geralt's gut and makes his arousal throb with need, though he can surely feel the grip he has on his rear, head tipped back and breathing noticeably more labored than usual.
"I wouldn't know," he starts slowly, quickly wetting his lips as he presses hips up into Jaskier's hold. "But I wouldn't stop you from sating your curiosity."
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He feels all that attention returned back to him when Geralt and he kiss and hold each other. As if they can't get enough of the taste of the other's lips, the warmth of their skin. Jaskier wants to press his mouth to each one of Geralt's scars, honor all the sacrifices the Witcher had to make over the decades so others could survive. Being together might not erase the bad memories but it could help bury them into sweeter ones.
The growl feels like music to his ears and the question startles a happy laugh out of him. Jaskier doesn't giggle, he so does not, but it was...a close thing. He rolls his hips a little, enjoying the hold Geralt has on him and all the touches. His own skin feels like it's on fire, his breath coming out in short pants.
"I've been following a rather stubborn man. Good thing he put up with me instead of telling me to go away."
For someone who is always so in control of his emotions, it's surprisingly easy to tell that Geralt is enjoying the attention. Jaskier almost doesn’t know how to cope with the fact that he enjoys it so much, that he would do anything Geralt ever tells him if he gets to see him blissed out in exchange.
A mangled noise that could have been Geralt's name at some point escapes his throat when fingers knead at Jaskier's ass, making him squeeze the Witcher's body with his thighs. Making an effort to focus, he strokes his dick again, now with even more intent. His hand rubs up the length, thumb circling the crown and then pressing down the slit.
"I'd love to sate my curiosity with you." Jaskier leans his head forward until he can press his forehead against Geralt's, smiling. Well then, go big or go home, as they say. "We should move to the bed."
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Pressing up into his hand again, Geralt exhales with a shaky breath from the way Jaskier is playing him so easily, calloused fingertips only adding to the sensitivity. Forehead to forehead, Geralt can close his eyes and breathe in the moment, hearing the quickened pulse of the other man, smelling his arousal and excitement. He makes up his mind right then and there, humming quietly before he gives a brief warning: "Hold on."
Moments later Geralt's wrapping an arm around his partner and using the other to hoist them both up out of the tub, dripping wet as he steps out with Jaskier in his arms. Grabbing a towel to toss onto the bed (because they'll surely regret sleeping on soggy sheets later) he carries them both over to sit, hauling Jaskier with him as he kisses up the column of his neck almost possessively, lips and teeth sucking at the water dripping from his jaw. Hands are still touching Jaskier with dominating curiosity of his own, one coming around now to finally palm at the man's neglected cock.
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Geralt's words are touching, and he imagines this might be the Witcher's way of apologizing for the wasted time. It's not as if it was his fault, they were really not ready for these kinds of things. It took Jaskier a decade and a life-threatening blizzard to act on his feelings, no wonder Yenefer often said men were idiots.
"Hold o...? Oh!" Jaskier had been busy basking on the heat of Geralt's body, on how attractive are the sounds he makes when he's happy and aroused when he's suddenly hauled up like he weighs nothing. In retrospect, he should have seen that coming, Geralt is a man of action and he loves him all the more for it.
Out of instinct, the bard's legs tighten around Geralt's waist and his arms hold onto the man's shoulders, trapping his own hardness against their stomachs. To say that this position is giving Jaskier ideas would be an understatement, Geralt lips on his neck only encourage such thoughts. A fine tremble shivers through his body and Jaskier tilts his chin up, baring a pale, unmarked neck for his wolf.
His mouth was supposed to be busy by now but he won't stop Geralt from satisfying his curiosity if he wants to do some exploring of his own. They never dared until now, not properly, and Jaskier is sure he wouldn't deny the man anything. His eyes are half lidded and he's panting with his mouth slightly open by the time a big, strong hand tugs at his cock. Jaskier spine goes nearly liquid and he lets out a low, musical moan. A hand rise up and clutch at Geralt's hair, pulling at it a little to test his reaction. The other slides down Geralt's chest to rub one of his nipples with his thumb.
"You're a sweetheart..." And isn't that such a fun thing to say to a man like Geralt? He's sure not a lot of people would agree. Jaskier would argue with them all. "But I really want to get my mouth on you and suck you off."
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y-you saw nothing
👀
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