He naturally widens his legs when Jaskier kneels between them, propping his head up on an arm so he can actually enjoy the show. The look on Jaskier's face this close to his dick is kind of amusing though he's grown too used to the man's exaggerated comments on just about everything. Still, of course the comparison goes straight to Geralt's ego, predictably.
"As long as you're not getting on your knees for them too," he jokes dryly, though once Jaskier begins to touch him, his concentration is pulled back to just how hard he is. Never one to make things easy, Jaskier takes his time as well, the way he savors the slow build up to get his mouth where he's been asking for it most almost painfully gradual. Geralt can be a patient man when he wants to but tonight he's feeling wound up enough.
"Jaskier..." he warns in a quiet grumble of his name, muscles of his thighs tensing up when lips press to softer, more sensitive skin, a day's worth of stubble scratching along. Geralt reaches down to slide his large hand through the other's hair, pushing it away from his face and down the back of his neck. "Are you going to torture me like this?"
Jaskier things his reaction is pretty justified and for once, he won't argue about Geralt's ego boost being deserved.
"No, thanks. There' s only room for one stubborn ass my life." The bard scoffs, his voice is unbearably fond and amused. He likes a partner whom he can joke in an out of the bedroom, even if with Geralt the humor is mostly dry. Jaskier learned to appreciate it like an acquired taste.
From his lowered position, he looks up at Geralt through his lashes, eyes big and blue and staring back with an intensely Jaskier rarely carries with him. He's pleased by the way the other man says his name and his artist soul compares it to the sounds of a storm brewing in the distance.
"Hmm...no, not if you keep that up." Jaskier purrs. Is the touch to his hair what really undoes his resolve to tease Geralt further. His hand kneads gently into the flesh of a strong thigh and he breaks the eye contact to nuzzle his dick. "You have the prettiest fucking cock that I've ever seen."
Jaskier feels the pulse of blood beneath his tongue when he slides it up the vein on the underside of Geralt's cock, slower than any human. The skin is so warm it almost makes his mouth water. He's full of want, hard against his stomach, but he can be patient for this. A wet tongue swipes over the cockhead, tasting the bead of pre-come pooling at the tip before Jaskier wraps his lips around it and moans. Geralt tastes like salt, clean skin, and something like magic, otherworldly. Special.
Jaskier pulls the cock into his mouth as far as it would go without chocking him, lavishing Geralt with attention, his right hand squeezing the base and then sliding down to play with his balls. A life of singing and training his throat has left Jaskier with little to none gag reflex, and he swallows the man's cock almost all the way to the back of his throat before bobbing his head back.
The way Jaskier looks up at him with those big eyes is almost innocent but Geralt knows better than to be fooled, especially with the way he licks up Geralt's cock with a knowing mischief. There is no way he can remain unaffected, even for a man as stoic as Geralt, and by the time Jaskier has him in his mouth he's exhaling harder than before. The rumblings of a pleased sound start up in his chest and escape once he's swallowed down farther than expected, the hand in Jaskier's hair briefly tightening its hold.
"Fuck..." he lets out in a far more pleased expression than the usual, the expletive escaping on a sigh rather than anger. Fingers brush back more hair and grasp near the top of Jaskier's head, not yet pushing as he lets the man get used to his size. It's tempting to move and likely obvious by the way his thighs tense up, muscles stiff while he remains grounded. The last thing he wants is to accidentally hurt the man in this state.
If his grip does start to get a bit more coaxing though, that's not something Geralt can help. With the bobbing motion he urges Jaskier down and up with a slightly harder press of his hand, subtly grinding down into the touch of his hand as well. There's a joke here in the back of his mind about just how effectively the usual chatty bard has been shut up, but he can't bring himself to use words at the moment, saving it for later. Instead, the witcher grunts and groans his obvious pleasure the longer Jaskier's mouth works over him, his head even tipping back in an effort to calm himself when he feels warmth spreading faster than expected.
He might be a little bit in love with Geralt's cock, Jaskier thinks. It's thick and heavy, and it fits perfectly into his mouth. The sounds Geralt is letting out make him moan in return, pleased with how his partner responds when he presses his tongue against the satiny stretch of skin. The cock slips past his lips for a second when he needs to take a deep breath but the younger man tongues the tip, pushes back the foreskin with his lips to get at the slit. The salty taste of the pre-come smeared on his tongue combined with the tug of his hair gets a whimper out of Jaskier and he sucks more of the cock into his mouth, stretching his lips wide.
There's a slight shift in pressure, the hand that's gripping his head now it's guiding it further down. Humming in appreciation, Jaskier slides a palm over Geralt's left thigh, hard as steel and quivering, feeling the muscle twitching underneath his fingers. The witcher's self-restrain has always been a thing of beauty. He's strong enough to break through anything with ease, necks included, but he keeps himself in control for the sake of not breaking the fragile humans around him.
It's very sweet but Jaskier doesn't want the man to hold himself back now, not went it comes to pleasure. His hands give Geralt's a meaningful squeeze, and he looks up at him briefly, blue eye meeting gold. The bard opens his mouth further, relaxes his jaw as much as he can, and reminds himself to breathe through his nose slowly. His head pushes against the hold Geralt has on his hair, not to get away from it but to encourage him to grip even harder, trust faster if that's what he wants.
Jaskier has always responded well to manhandling, never really putting up a fight, he had learned time ago that it was useless. With Geralt, he trusts him enough to submit himself willingly.
Jaskier is showing off new talents that Geralt couldn't have suspected he'd excel in, but here he is, swallowing down his cock like it's such an easy thing, whereas normally people would choke and fail in their efforts. It's enough to leave the witcher speechless as he takes all the man has to give, fingers still gripping in his hair as he presses down further and further. All Geralt can really do is curse under his breath or groan from satisfaction.
The look in Jaskier's gaze is all he needs as permission to move, though Geralt is still hesitant at first, just because of his... size. He gives an experimental rock of his hips, enough to push upward when he's already in so deep, and the grip on Jaskier's hair forces his lips up to give him more space.
A low grunt escapes from Geralt and he has to rest his head back again, both hands now filtering through Jaskier's hair, gripping his head on both sides. There's an almost affectionate stroke along before he's holding him harder again, this time easing his cock away and back up into the heat of his mouth again, slowly but steadily getting a sense for how much he can handle.
There's a reason why Jaskier got himself in so many court scandals in the past. He might be shameless and talk too much, but when it comes to sex, like music, he would never do a half-assed job. A man needs to have some standards, even if said standards left him with a sore jaw. Jaskier is not used to the intensity of it all, however, and he shudders under the touches that Geralt offers back. It's not just because of the sheer size of Geralt but the fact he's doing this with someone that means so much to him. He wants to make it good, he wants it to be memorable.
The bard sucks and licks at all he can fit, keeping a hand working the girth at the base because the thickness of Geralt's cock is proportionate to the rest of him. Hearing his moaning has flushed Jaskier's cheeks a shade of red, and he desperately wants to know how Geralt sounds like when he comes. His own breath hitches when the witcher’s hands find their way into his hair, pulling hard.
Jaskier eyes shut closer firmly and he moans lowly against the hardness in his mouth, the sound muffled but no less evident, and his shoulders relax as he lets Geralt guide the pace. Oh, he's not going to be able to sing at all tomorrow, his voice would be too hoarse for sure, but he can't find it in him to care. The hand that is still caressing the surprisingly soft inner skin of Geralt's thigh curl inwards, nails leaving little crescent moon marks on the skin just as Jaskier hums. It creates spine-tingly vibrations while going down on Geralt.
Geralt braces one foot on the bed with a knee bent for leverage, helping him ease up into Jaskier's mouth better. He knows the bard will tell him if it's too much, nails digging into a vulnerable spot and his teeth quite literally in a prone position to hurt him if necessary. Geralt is careful to make sure that won't be the case.
With that humming vibration though he lets out a sharper fuck! before his hips jerk upward, fingers tugging at hair again in an effort to keep Jaskier's head still. He's breathing faster as it is, pleasure pooling in his gut quickly, enough to make him start to thrust up into this incredible heat with quicker, less measured motions. He doesn't even think about slowing himself down, to not orgasm too soon, knowing his body can catch up just fine. With shaky, deep breaths he brings his gaze back down to watch the way Jaskier's lips stretch over his cock, the way he continues to take and give even with rougher, quicker rocking.
"Fuck, I'm going to come." He warns with a low groan, one hand letting go to slip down and cup at Jaskier's jaw instead. He pushes up harder again, testing the limits of how much he can take, enjoying the way the younger man looks far, far too much like this.
If Jaskier needs him to stop he wouldn't immediately bite him, he would pat his thigh twice to make it clear he needs a break and for Geralt to let go of his hair. It occurs to him way too late that maybe they should have discussed that sort of unspoken communications beforehand because his mouth is too busy to speak. It's something worth mentioning for the next time. Now, even if Geralt's rhythm is speeding up and his airflow cut short at times, it's not unbearable. Is the reaction what really get to Jaskier, what is making his blood run hotter and his dick throb. Geralt is so beautiful like this, lost in his pleasure, that he can't get enough of it, delirious with arousal himself.
Geralt's body tenses beneath him, rocking his hips against Jaskier’s mouth, and the tighter hold the man has on his hair sends little prickles of pain down his nape and spine. It gives a sharper edge to things and Jaskier whimpers, wetness pooling at the corner os his eyes due to the strain but he doesn't motion for Geralt to stop. His cock hits the back of his Jaskier's throat as he fucks into his mouth again and again, and the bard lets out a choked sob when Geralt cries out his release.
Baby blue eyes snap up to Geralt's through long lashes. Jaskier doesn't want to think about the picture he might make, face flushed and lips red. He's so keyed up that he wouldn't deny the man anything, couldn't even imagine it. He lets out a moan and his eyes flutter a bit once he feels the first jets of cum splashing heavily onto his tongue, dripping down his chin as he struggles to swallow it all.
As emotionless as people like to think witchers are, even they aren't immune to the effects of pleasure, and it would be a strange thing indeed if Geralt remained completely stoic throughout the act. Jaskier gets a rare glimpse into what it's like when he loses himself to something pleasant rather than a bloodbath, and it's the flash of those blue eyes meeting his that really send Geralt off the edge. He can tell just from that brief exchange how curious he is, and how much he wants to see this. The picture he makes is perfect by default.
Geralt's grip is far too tight and it doesn't let up until his hips jerk into the other's hold one last time before he calms, breathing audibly and heart actually pounding faster from the rush of orgasm. Fingers finally free Jaskier from their grip and he smooths back his hair instead, leg dropping and an arm falling over his forehead with a low groan, almost in disbelief of what just happened.
He doesn't know what to say (if words are even important at all). Instead, Geralt quietly watches the other, the hand at his jaw caressing down until his thumb can spread across the slickness leaking from the corner of Jaskier's mouth, spreading it over his lower lip.
Jaskier sucks him through the aftershocks until he’s concerned that the oversensitiveness might turning things painful. The salty-bitter taste coating his tongue is mixed with a trace something else, something that he can't quite place but that now he labels as 'Geralt'. Only then does Jaskier let him slip from his mouth gently, the hand at the base of his softening cock giving Geralt one last squeeze.
Jaskier draws in a shuddering breath, eyes half-lidded now and making little small sounds as he tries to slow the beating of his heart. His eyes are half-lidded and he tilts his face towards Geralt's touch like a cat seeking warmth. His scalp still tingles and his cock is painfully hard but it's the good kind of hurt. It was all worth it just to see Geralt come, to know he was able to bring him this kind of pleasure.
He leans in to place another kiss to Geralt's thigh, leaning his cheek against the skin and not urging Geralt to say anything. He lets the man bask on his afterglow, enjoying the view as if it was his own orgasm. When the Witcher's thumb brushes across his cum streaked lips, Jaskier closes his eyes and puts it into his mouth, sucking at it slowly, the tip of pink tongue flattening against the pad.
He honestly can't recall the last time he came like that so he needs a minute. Jaskier's head on his leg is kind of comforting and as he finally calms his breathing to something steady again, Geralt realizes they'll never be able to go back from this night. What they had before was already changing but this is... something different.
Slowly removing his thumb, Geralt goes back to petting Jaskier's hair in a gentler motion to make up for all the rougher pulling that just went down. Moments of silence pass before he shifts and slides his hand down the man's shoulder and arm instead, gently tugging.
"Get up here already." As if he's going to not give anything in return.
Jaskier watches the man broad chest rise and fall in steady breaths and smiles up at him. He knew long ago that his crush on Geralt had turned into something much deeper, so he's not going through the same kind of revelation as his partner, but he's feeling at peace with the world. As if all the broken pieces of his life are now aligned and in place, fitting.
"I like the way you taste."
The touches to his hair get a soft moan out of Jaskier. It's barely a whisper escaping his lips but easy to hear by someone with enhanced senses like Geralt. He likes having his hair touched, like Geralt, but he likes the sweet attention most of all, which might come as no surprise.
"Mmm?" He moves up as requested, limbs heavy and his own hardness standing to attention. He ignores all that in favor of resting a hand over Geralt's chest and nuzzling his face, silently asking for a kiss.
Jaskier seems much calmer than usual somehow, as if the act soothed him as much as it brought Geralt relief. He makes mental note to consider why later but for now he's happy to distract them both, especially with how painfully hard the other still is. Jaskier's face is flush, his eyes somehow darker, and the way he slowly moves about is almost... sweet.
He won't have to beg for long as Geralt tips his head to meet Jaskier in a kiss, his hand still cupping the side of his face. Not caring where that mouth had just been, Geralt seeks out his tongue with a slip of his own, kissing him long and sweet with enough distraction to roll their bodies over until he has Jaskier pinned to the bed instead. Their lips part only for a second before he dives in again for more, body flush atop his as hips grind down against his hardness with a pleased hum. Even if Geralt is softer now, that doesn't mean he can't enjoy getting his partner off.
At the moment the bard is enjoying the satisfaction or having been the one to make Geralt shout in pleasure. So, yes, Jaskier is feeling very calm despite his body's need making itself obvious in the way he trembles in delight when the witcher pulls him flush against his body. When they kiss, Jaskier lets out a please growl, drinking in the warmth of Geralt's mouth. He's still amazed that's he's allowed to kiss him at all, to get all over Geralt's personal space without getting a scowl in return, to run his hand up and down his side, his scars...Jaskier has always been rather touchy-feely but kissing him is no doubt his favorite activity.
A mellow whimper leaves his lips when a muscular body stands above him, making Jaskier arch his back to chase the delicious friction. Jaskier likes the display of strength and how careful it is at the same time, he is pinning him down but still being careful not to apply too much force.
"Geralt." It comes out needy even to Jaskier's ears. The edge of pleasure sits hot and heavy in his belly and he wraps his right leg around the other man's waist, hips canting up. "Please."
Sex is easy to enjoy though doing so with someone he cares about makes it far better. Most nights spent with others in bed are strangers these days, though fewer and farther between. He hasn't visited a local brothel in some time, nor has he wanted to. After that day in the cave he hasn't even thought about it.
Now here they are, tangled up in one another and Geralt ready to give Jaskier whatever he needs. Lips part with that leg at his hip and Geralt's belly squirms with delight at the way Jaskier pleads, the way he sounds and looks beneath him like this.
"I know," he states simply, offering another grind of his hip and upper thigh against the man's cock, mouth lowering to kiss down his jaw and neck. His next words are just as simple: "Roll over."
As in, on his stomach. Geralt has a very specific plan, see, and he makes his intentions clear with another rock against Jaskier's hardness, before he's forcing his hips away so the bard can move.
The musician's attention is for Geralt's alone these days as well. He performs and smiles but doesn't pursue anything beyond the act, politely turning down people if they show interest in anything beyond his musical talents. He doesn't talk about exclusivity with Geralt because he still wouldn't dare to state any sort of claim over the witcher, no matter how much he might want it.
Jaskier hisses after the last grind of Geralt's hips when the man moves away. The words come out a cross between Geralt's name, a whimper and more pleas, screwing his eyes shut for a second. Jaskier was enjoying the kisses to his neck a bit too much, wondering if Geralt could leave some marks.
He obeys the command without thinking much of it, blinking is slight confusion but turning to lie on his belly. Geralt rarely asks for anything and Jaskier would trust his life, so Geralt is treated to the view of the muscles of his back and the curve of his ass, pale skin on display, scattered with light freckles here and there. Jaskier looks at him over his shoulders with big eyes, a silent question about what is the other planning to do.
Leaving marks on Jaskier's body won't ever be a problem though right now Geralt has something else in mind. He sits back to allow Jaskier to turn over, the sight spreading more heat through him as his eyes take in the other's body. They've seen one another naked plenty of times before, just an unavoidable feature of traveling together for so long, but in this context it's as though Geralt is seeing him for the first time. And he likes what he sees.
One hand skims up the back of a thigh and he urges Jaskier's legs open, to spread out where he's lying. Geralt then leans in to start trailing kisses from the nape of his neck downward, taking his sweet time to revel in the way certain touches make the other shiver or squirm, or the soft breaths that catch in his throat.
"Just relax," he comments after that silent question aimed his way, lips pausing over the swell of his rear to slide his hand up from his thigh and over a cheek. Geralt hums quietly, kisses trailing further down over freckles and smooth skin until his hands knead at his partner's ass, tongue slowly working its way in between to sensitive skin.
"This is payback for the teasing, isn't it...?" Jaskier murmurs as Geralt is nuzzling against his ear, whimpering at the way it sends a rush down that has him shivering. He rests his forehead on the sheets and groans as the lips move lower, over the divots in his lower back, and parts his legs when Geralt gently touches him.
He's hyper-aware of everywhere the man is touching him and Jaskier yelps at the feel of hot breath against the curve of his ass and the wetness that follows. He startles just a little, hips twitching, and snaps his head back to stare at Geralt. His mouth opens but no sound comes out of it, and the brunette turn scarlet before closing his mouth again. He's flushed with nervous excitement and arousal and when he lies down on the bed again he's trying to looking everyone but at Geralt's.
"Never done this before." He mumbles, feeling the need to explain his reaction, which he realizes a second later it's stupid because it's probably obvious. He doesn't tell Geralt to stop, just licks his kiss-swollen lips and spreads his legs a little further.
Geralt moves back for a moment at Jaskier's first reaction, not wanting to get knocked in the face, though he's amused at how jumpy he's being. That explanation makes sense though and Geralt is actually surprised, considering Jaskier's sexual history.
"Really, I'm the first?" He actually sounds curious and gently presses teeth into the muscle of one cheek, kissing over it soon after. "I haven't done this in at least two decades."
There's his little confession for the night. He may be out of practice but he knows how to run on instinct, and so far they've managed pretty damn well. Legs part further and Geralt's hands grip Jaskier's hips before he presses his mouth lower, tongue sneaking out again to shamelessly lick a stripe up and over his hole. He takes his time but doesn't tease after so long, knowing Jaskier needs relief. His breath is hot against his skin as Geralt works over him with those long, pressing licks, hands kneading him open for his mouth. He's unabashed in the way he takes his time to get Jaskier wet with his tongue, wanting him to relax as much as he can.
"I know the tales of my past sexual rendezvous are varied and hardly ever exaggerated but no, this isn'.t..something that I, ehm, had the pleasure to experience with any of my partners before. "
Jaskier is pursing his lips a little at the amused glint he can spot in Geralt golden eyes. He has the right to be surprised every now and then, the bard thinks to himself, the blush on his cheeks only lessening marginally.
"Yes, you are the first." And it's actually kind of a comforting idea, to know there's still something he can give to Geralt and Geralt alone. The man explaining how it's been a while for him brings a shy smile to Jaskier's lips.
The bite tears another low whimper from his throat and he arches his back. He doesn't bother with words anymore, they're too hard to get out, and he knows Geralt will always take care of his comfort and pleasure. Jaskier rests his cheek on sheets under him and lets himself feel, his hands gripping at the fabric. It's new and different and it's been a long while he's felt untouched in some way.
Geralt's tongue on him is hot and slick against the sensitive flesh and Jaskier groans deep in his chest, throbbing between his thighs and leaving a mess of pre-come under him. His thighs tense and release until they’re shaking and he finds himself pushing back into the heat of Geralt's tongue mouth and the pressure of his mouth. "F-fuck...oh, fuck, Geralt..."
It is actually kind of sweet to know Geralt can offer him something new too. In his long lifetime, it may be harder to do so for Geralt, but every new experience with Jaskier has been enjoyable thus far. He has no complaints. No one's certainly swallowed him the way he just did minutes ago.
Humming against the pushing, Geralt only presses forward with more urgency, taking that as a sign for more as he licks over his hole again and again, fingers digging into his flesh. Without warning Geralt flicks the tip of his tongue against him instead, aiming to gently slip inside. The press of a tongue isn't as blunt but he's still careful, testing the waters with another hum, a silent question of whether this is alright.]
The only thing Jaskier regrets is that he's already so far gone after waiting so much that things are going to end embarrassingly quickly the moment he touches himself. So he doesn't. He's left panting when Geralt hums against him, and it's not fair, really is not, to turn that trick on him.
He has Geralt's scent in his nose because the sheets smell like him, Geralt's hands on his thighs, and then Geralt’s tongue is sliding in... and Jaskier's eyes roll into the back of his head. The long whine he lets out it's probably all the answer the Witcher needs, it's a loud and needy agreement to do whatever he wants to the bard's body.
His breath stutter at the feeling and the realization that Geralt's tongue is on his arse, and jesus-fucking-christ, something like this should feel filthy instead of so, so hot and so good. Jaskier's brain short-circuits for a few seconds, his sensitive rim twitching, moaning lowly at the constant barrage of sensation.
Jaskier is only human and has waited for this long enough, so Geralt can hardly blame him if he comes too quickly. No judgment here. The noises he's making alone have Geralt's senses alert and ready to give him everything, the keening whines and moans spreading pleasant warmth throughout his body.
His tongue slips in deeper with each slow thrust, testing his limits as well as Jaskier's patience. The low moans urge Geralt on though and he can't help but hum again, a natural reaction to hearing the other so pleased, wanting to give him whatever pleasure he can manage. The motion of his tongue gains actual rhythm as he begins to fuck him quicker, wet and lewd with the heat of his mouth panting against skin. He'll stop if asked but part of him wonders if he can truly make Jaskier come just with his tongue, continuing on as a hand slides up the back of his thigh with a light scrape of nails.
He will be relieved to know Geralt won't mock him for it, he's holding onto his self-control but it won't be for much longer. Geralt's tongue has a specific pace, a fucking rhythm now, gods bless and curse the man, and it's like a match being lit across Jaskier's nervous system. The tongue pushes in just a bit further each thrust, the drag back just as delicious and maddening.
"G-Geralt, I...” His voice is small, no less intense for it, and he can't get any more words out. Geralt shifts his grip and scratches him lightly but in his sensitive state, it's enough to undo him. It's like the breath is punched out of him with a groan and the bard can't help the way his eyes flutter shut because fuck, fuck, oh fuck,...
Jaskier hears himself keening. A second later he's biting into his lower lip and trying not to sob as his whole body shakes and falls apart under Geralt's careful ministrations, spilling over the sheets without even being touched. His muscles seize up as the waves wrack through him and then he feels weightless, boneless. His fingers twitch, once, twice, and he releases the sheets he's been gripping so hard they almost got torn.
"Geralt." The brunette looks over his shoulder, cheeks pink and messy hair falling over his forehead and reaches his right hand back towards the wWitcher. He needs the contact, it's all. Needs Geralt to ground him.
Hearing Jaskier fall apart is almost as good as seeing it for himself. The combination is something else and Geralt is happy to be the cause. He continues to fuck him through the waves of pleasure until Jaskier is trembling more than bucking backward, easing his mouth away to kiss over the swell of his ass instead. Geralt is even a bit winded where he continues to kiss upward along his back, between his shoulders, and finally against his neck.
"You didn't even touch yourself," he points out curiously, sounding impressed as he bites gently near Jaskier's shoulder. Geralt opts to lay down beside him but smooths a hand across his back, arm enveloping the man to pull him in close. That look is all the permission he needs.
He's decided he likes seeing Jaskier like this, flush and disheveled, and wants to give him more if he can.
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
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"As long as you're not getting on your knees for them too," he jokes dryly, though once Jaskier begins to touch him, his concentration is pulled back to just how hard he is. Never one to make things easy, Jaskier takes his time as well, the way he savors the slow build up to get his mouth where he's been asking for it most almost painfully gradual. Geralt can be a patient man when he wants to but tonight he's feeling wound up enough.
"Jaskier..." he warns in a quiet grumble of his name, muscles of his thighs tensing up when lips press to softer, more sensitive skin, a day's worth of stubble scratching along. Geralt reaches down to slide his large hand through the other's hair, pushing it away from his face and down the back of his neck. "Are you going to torture me like this?"
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"No, thanks. There' s only room for one stubborn ass my life." The bard scoffs, his voice is unbearably fond and amused. He likes a partner whom he can joke in an out of the bedroom, even if with Geralt the humor is mostly dry. Jaskier learned to appreciate it like an acquired taste.
From his lowered position, he looks up at Geralt through his lashes, eyes big and blue and staring back with an intensely Jaskier rarely carries with him. He's pleased by the way the other man says his name and his artist soul compares it to the sounds of a storm brewing in the distance.
"Hmm...no, not if you keep that up." Jaskier purrs. Is the touch to his hair what really undoes his resolve to tease Geralt further. His hand kneads gently into the flesh of a strong thigh and he breaks the eye contact to nuzzle his dick. "You have the prettiest fucking cock that I've ever seen."
Jaskier feels the pulse of blood beneath his tongue when he slides it up the vein on the underside of Geralt's cock, slower than any human. The skin is so warm it almost makes his mouth water. He's full of want, hard against his stomach, but he can be patient for this. A wet tongue swipes over the cockhead, tasting the bead of pre-come pooling at the tip before Jaskier wraps his lips around it and moans. Geralt tastes like salt, clean skin, and something like magic, otherworldly. Special.
Jaskier pulls the cock into his mouth as far as it would go without chocking him, lavishing Geralt with attention, his right hand squeezing the base and then sliding down to play with his balls. A life of singing and training his throat has left Jaskier with little to none gag reflex, and he swallows the man's cock almost all the way to the back of his throat before bobbing his head back.
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"Fuck..." he lets out in a far more pleased expression than the usual, the expletive escaping on a sigh rather than anger. Fingers brush back more hair and grasp near the top of Jaskier's head, not yet pushing as he lets the man get used to his size. It's tempting to move and likely obvious by the way his thighs tense up, muscles stiff while he remains grounded. The last thing he wants is to accidentally hurt the man in this state.
If his grip does start to get a bit more coaxing though, that's not something Geralt can help. With the bobbing motion he urges Jaskier down and up with a slightly harder press of his hand, subtly grinding down into the touch of his hand as well. There's a joke here in the back of his mind about just how effectively the usual chatty bard has been shut up, but he can't bring himself to use words at the moment, saving it for later. Instead, the witcher grunts and groans his obvious pleasure the longer Jaskier's mouth works over him, his head even tipping back in an effort to calm himself when he feels warmth spreading faster than expected.
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There's a slight shift in pressure, the hand that's gripping his head now it's guiding it further down. Humming in appreciation, Jaskier slides a palm over Geralt's left thigh, hard as steel and quivering, feeling the muscle twitching underneath his fingers. The witcher's self-restrain has always been a thing of beauty. He's strong enough to break through anything with ease, necks included, but he keeps himself in control for the sake of not breaking the fragile humans around him.
It's very sweet but Jaskier doesn't want the man to hold himself back now, not went it comes to pleasure. His hands give Geralt's a meaningful squeeze, and he looks up at him briefly, blue eye meeting gold. The bard opens his mouth further, relaxes his jaw as much as he can, and reminds himself to breathe through his nose slowly. His head pushes against the hold Geralt has on his hair, not to get away from it but to encourage him to grip even harder, trust faster if that's what he wants.
Jaskier has always responded well to manhandling, never really putting up a fight, he had learned time ago that it was useless. With Geralt, he trusts him enough to submit himself willingly.
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The look in Jaskier's gaze is all he needs as permission to move, though Geralt is still hesitant at first, just because of his... size. He gives an experimental rock of his hips, enough to push upward when he's already in so deep, and the grip on Jaskier's hair forces his lips up to give him more space.
A low grunt escapes from Geralt and he has to rest his head back again, both hands now filtering through Jaskier's hair, gripping his head on both sides. There's an almost affectionate stroke along before he's holding him harder again, this time easing his cock away and back up into the heat of his mouth again, slowly but steadily getting a sense for how much he can handle.
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The bard sucks and licks at all he can fit, keeping a hand working the girth at the base because the thickness of Geralt's cock is proportionate to the rest of him. Hearing his moaning has flushed Jaskier's cheeks a shade of red, and he desperately wants to know how Geralt sounds like when he comes. His own breath hitches when the witcher’s hands find their way into his hair, pulling hard.
Jaskier eyes shut closer firmly and he moans lowly against the hardness in his mouth, the sound muffled but no less evident, and his shoulders relax as he lets Geralt guide the pace. Oh, he's not going to be able to sing at all tomorrow, his voice would be too hoarse for sure, but he can't find it in him to care. The hand that is still caressing the surprisingly soft inner skin of Geralt's thigh curl inwards, nails leaving little crescent moon marks on the skin just as Jaskier hums. It creates spine-tingly vibrations while going down on Geralt.
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With that humming vibration though he lets out a sharper fuck! before his hips jerk upward, fingers tugging at hair again in an effort to keep Jaskier's head still. He's breathing faster as it is, pleasure pooling in his gut quickly, enough to make him start to thrust up into this incredible heat with quicker, less measured motions. He doesn't even think about slowing himself down, to not orgasm too soon, knowing his body can catch up just fine. With shaky, deep breaths he brings his gaze back down to watch the way Jaskier's lips stretch over his cock, the way he continues to take and give even with rougher, quicker rocking.
"Fuck, I'm going to come." He warns with a low groan, one hand letting go to slip down and cup at Jaskier's jaw instead. He pushes up harder again, testing the limits of how much he can take, enjoying the way the younger man looks far, far too much like this.
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Geralt's body tenses beneath him, rocking his hips against Jaskier’s mouth, and the tighter hold the man has on his hair sends little prickles of pain down his nape and spine. It gives a sharper edge to things and Jaskier whimpers, wetness pooling at the corner os his eyes due to the strain but he doesn't motion for Geralt to stop. His cock hits the back of his Jaskier's throat as he fucks into his mouth again and again, and the bard lets out a choked sob when Geralt cries out his release.
Baby blue eyes snap up to Geralt's through long lashes. Jaskier doesn't want to think about the picture he might make, face flushed and lips red. He's so keyed up that he wouldn't deny the man anything, couldn't even imagine it. He lets out a moan and his eyes flutter a bit once he feels the first jets of cum splashing heavily onto his tongue, dripping down his chin as he struggles to swallow it all.
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Geralt's grip is far too tight and it doesn't let up until his hips jerk into the other's hold one last time before he calms, breathing audibly and heart actually pounding faster from the rush of orgasm. Fingers finally free Jaskier from their grip and he smooths back his hair instead, leg dropping and an arm falling over his forehead with a low groan, almost in disbelief of what just happened.
He doesn't know what to say (if words are even important at all). Instead, Geralt quietly watches the other, the hand at his jaw caressing down until his thumb can spread across the slickness leaking from the corner of Jaskier's mouth, spreading it over his lower lip.
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Jaskier draws in a shuddering breath, eyes half-lidded now and making little small sounds as he tries to slow the beating of his heart. His eyes are half-lidded and he tilts his face towards Geralt's touch like a cat seeking warmth. His scalp still tingles and his cock is painfully hard but it's the good kind of hurt. It was all worth it just to see Geralt come, to know he was able to bring him this kind of pleasure.
He leans in to place another kiss to Geralt's thigh, leaning his cheek against the skin and not urging Geralt to say anything. He lets the man bask on his afterglow, enjoying the view as if it was his own orgasm. When the Witcher's thumb brushes across his cum streaked lips, Jaskier closes his eyes and puts it into his mouth, sucking at it slowly, the tip of pink tongue flattening against the pad.
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Slowly removing his thumb, Geralt goes back to petting Jaskier's hair in a gentler motion to make up for all the rougher pulling that just went down. Moments of silence pass before he shifts and slides his hand down the man's shoulder and arm instead, gently tugging.
"Get up here already." As if he's going to not give anything in return.
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"I like the way you taste."
The touches to his hair get a soft moan out of Jaskier. It's barely a whisper escaping his lips but easy to hear by someone with enhanced senses like Geralt. He likes having his hair touched, like Geralt, but he likes the sweet attention most of all, which might come as no surprise.
"Mmm?" He moves up as requested, limbs heavy and his own hardness standing to attention. He ignores all that in favor of resting a hand over Geralt's chest and nuzzling his face, silently asking for a kiss.
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He won't have to beg for long as Geralt tips his head to meet Jaskier in a kiss, his hand still cupping the side of his face. Not caring where that mouth had just been, Geralt seeks out his tongue with a slip of his own, kissing him long and sweet with enough distraction to roll their bodies over until he has Jaskier pinned to the bed instead. Their lips part only for a second before he dives in again for more, body flush atop his as hips grind down against his hardness with a pleased hum. Even if Geralt is softer now, that doesn't mean he can't enjoy getting his partner off.
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A mellow whimper leaves his lips when a muscular body stands above him, making Jaskier arch his back to chase the delicious friction. Jaskier likes the display of strength and how careful it is at the same time, he is pinning him down but still being careful not to apply too much force.
"Geralt." It comes out needy even to Jaskier's ears. The edge of pleasure sits hot and heavy in his belly and he wraps his right leg around the other man's waist, hips canting up. "Please."
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Now here they are, tangled up in one another and Geralt ready to give Jaskier whatever he needs. Lips part with that leg at his hip and Geralt's belly squirms with delight at the way Jaskier pleads, the way he sounds and looks beneath him like this.
"I know," he states simply, offering another grind of his hip and upper thigh against the man's cock, mouth lowering to kiss down his jaw and neck. His next words are just as simple: "Roll over."
As in, on his stomach. Geralt has a very specific plan, see, and he makes his intentions clear with another rock against Jaskier's hardness, before he's forcing his hips away so the bard can move.
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Jaskier hisses after the last grind of Geralt's hips when the man moves away. The words come out a cross between Geralt's name, a whimper and more pleas, screwing his eyes shut for a second. Jaskier was enjoying the kisses to his neck a bit too much, wondering if Geralt could leave some marks.
He obeys the command without thinking much of it, blinking is slight confusion but turning to lie on his belly. Geralt rarely asks for anything and Jaskier would trust his life, so Geralt is treated to the view of the muscles of his back and the curve of his ass, pale skin on display, scattered with light freckles here and there. Jaskier looks at him over his shoulders with big eyes, a silent question about what is the other planning to do.
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One hand skims up the back of a thigh and he urges Jaskier's legs open, to spread out where he's lying. Geralt then leans in to start trailing kisses from the nape of his neck downward, taking his sweet time to revel in the way certain touches make the other shiver or squirm, or the soft breaths that catch in his throat.
"Just relax," he comments after that silent question aimed his way, lips pausing over the swell of his rear to slide his hand up from his thigh and over a cheek. Geralt hums quietly, kisses trailing further down over freckles and smooth skin until his hands knead at his partner's ass, tongue slowly working its way in between to sensitive skin.
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He's hyper-aware of everywhere the man is touching him and Jaskier yelps at the feel of hot breath against the curve of his ass and the wetness that follows. He startles just a little, hips twitching, and snaps his head back to stare at Geralt. His mouth opens but no sound comes out of it, and the brunette turn scarlet before closing his mouth again. He's flushed with nervous excitement and arousal and when he lies down on the bed again he's trying to looking everyone but at Geralt's.
"Never done this before." He mumbles, feeling the need to explain his reaction, which he realizes a second later it's stupid because it's probably obvious. He doesn't tell Geralt to stop, just licks his kiss-swollen lips and spreads his legs a little further.
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"Really, I'm the first?" He actually sounds curious and gently presses teeth into the muscle of one cheek, kissing over it soon after. "I haven't done this in at least two decades."
There's his little confession for the night. He may be out of practice but he knows how to run on instinct, and so far they've managed pretty damn well. Legs part further and Geralt's hands grip Jaskier's hips before he presses his mouth lower, tongue sneaking out again to shamelessly lick a stripe up and over his hole. He takes his time but doesn't tease after so long, knowing Jaskier needs relief. His breath is hot against his skin as Geralt works over him with those long, pressing licks, hands kneading him open for his mouth. He's unabashed in the way he takes his time to get Jaskier wet with his tongue, wanting him to relax as much as he can.
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Jaskier is pursing his lips a little at the amused glint he can spot in Geralt golden eyes. He has the right to be surprised every now and then, the bard thinks to himself, the blush on his cheeks only lessening marginally.
"Yes, you are the first." And it's actually kind of a comforting idea, to know there's still something he can give to Geralt and Geralt alone. The man explaining how it's been a while for him brings a shy smile to Jaskier's lips.
The bite tears another low whimper from his throat and he arches his back. He doesn't bother with words anymore, they're too hard to get out, and he knows Geralt will always take care of his comfort and pleasure. Jaskier rests his cheek on sheets under him and lets himself feel, his hands gripping at the fabric. It's new and different and it's been a long while he's felt untouched in some way.
Geralt's tongue on him is hot and slick against the sensitive flesh and Jaskier groans deep in his chest, throbbing between his thighs and leaving a mess of pre-come under him. His thighs tense and release until they’re shaking and he finds himself pushing back into the heat of Geralt's tongue mouth and the pressure of his mouth. "F-fuck...oh, fuck, Geralt..."
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Humming against the pushing, Geralt only presses forward with more urgency, taking that as a sign for more as he licks over his hole again and again, fingers digging into his flesh. Without warning Geralt flicks the tip of his tongue against him instead, aiming to gently slip inside. The press of a tongue isn't as blunt but he's still careful, testing the waters with another hum, a silent question of whether this is alright.]
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He has Geralt's scent in his nose because the sheets smell like him, Geralt's hands on his thighs, and then Geralt’s tongue is sliding in... and Jaskier's eyes roll into the back of his head. The long whine he lets out it's probably all the answer the Witcher needs, it's a loud and needy agreement to do whatever he wants to the bard's body.
His breath stutter at the feeling and the realization that Geralt's tongue is on his arse, and jesus-fucking-christ, something like this should feel filthy instead of so, so hot and so good. Jaskier's brain short-circuits for a few seconds, his sensitive rim twitching, moaning lowly at the constant barrage of sensation.
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His tongue slips in deeper with each slow thrust, testing his limits as well as Jaskier's patience. The low moans urge Geralt on though and he can't help but hum again, a natural reaction to hearing the other so pleased, wanting to give him whatever pleasure he can manage. The motion of his tongue gains actual rhythm as he begins to fuck him quicker, wet and lewd with the heat of his mouth panting against skin. He'll stop if asked but part of him wonders if he can truly make Jaskier come just with his tongue, continuing on as a hand slides up the back of his thigh with a light scrape of nails.
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"G-Geralt, I...” His voice is small, no less intense for it, and he can't get any more words out. Geralt shifts his grip and scratches him lightly but in his sensitive state, it's enough to undo him. It's like the breath is punched out of him with a groan and the bard can't help the way his eyes flutter shut because fuck, fuck, oh fuck,...
Jaskier hears himself keening. A second later he's biting into his lower lip and trying not to sob as his whole body shakes and falls apart under Geralt's careful ministrations, spilling over the sheets without even being touched. His muscles seize up as the waves wrack through him and then he feels weightless, boneless. His fingers twitch, once, twice, and he releases the sheets he's been gripping so hard they almost got torn.
"Geralt." The brunette looks over his shoulder, cheeks pink and messy hair falling over his forehead and reaches his right hand back towards the wWitcher. He needs the contact, it's all. Needs Geralt to ground him.
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"You didn't even touch yourself," he points out curiously, sounding impressed as he bites gently near Jaskier's shoulder. Geralt opts to lay down beside him but smooths a hand across his back, arm enveloping the man to pull him in close. That look is all the permission he needs.
He's decided he likes seeing Jaskier like this, flush and disheveled, and wants to give him more if he can.
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y-you saw nothing
👀
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