[Geralt knows that he will be coming back to potentially some trouble, considering he was in a tavern listening to Jaskier when a letter came for him. He smelled her immediately on it and sighed, knowing that she was always able to find him wherever. They had a little business to discuss so he very shortly informed the bard of where he was going, it wasn't far, and with who. He didn't want to pretend later, it seemed wiser to get that out of the way early. And yes, despite everything, despite the complicated relationship he and Yennefer shared, he did tend to drop everything to run after her.
After a terse discussion which did turn out to be helpful regarding a monster in the area, she came close to him and for a moment, he lost his head. He will never fully be out of her spell, destiny's spell. Her perfume surrounded him and he found himself in her bed, her mouth on his, his shirt undone, her hands everywhere, but before anything more happened some instinct of his said No! so loudly that he practically leaped out of her embrace. He'd like to say that it was his self-preservation, but he knew exactly what it was. He hasn't slept with another person since he and Jaskier became daily lovers.
Yen took one look at him and did her witch intuition, and she laughed at him, somewhat cruelly, somewhat not. Geralt, I thought you wiser than that. He flinched, picking up his weapons. The cruelty shifted and she was serious when she stopped him at the door. He wanted her, he felt that tug, they never said they couldn't have someone else. But he couldn't. There are only two ways this ends, you know that. Either he dies old in his bed far away from you, or he dies younger in your arms. He's a mortal. He's not like us. There is true wisdom in that he understands, but he pulled away and left her.
The words haunt him on his short journey back. Obviously, she is right. And it is impossible to keep convincing himself none of it matters when he just turned down a lover with her nails in him. The honesty is out there now, lacking the ability for the same denial, but it is no less concerning. Still, what Geralt does is go straight back to the room he shares with Jaskier. He doesn't go downstairs to see if the bard is still performing or carousing, he likely is. He feels like he needs a bit of time to mull over his thoughts. To brood, as Jaskier would say.
Geralt bathes to try and get her smell off him, but it is impossible and he knows that. Gooseberries follows him afterward, cloying and sweet, and her taste is still in his mouth although he's trying to cover it with ale. He doesn't linger long and ends up back at their bed, casually clothed and sharpening his knives as he waits for Jaskier. He is very weary though, not sure he's in the mood for nonsense and pouting. But it has to be done.
He's not like us. No, he isn't. And that is why this is all so damned complicated.]
[ He didn't make a scene when Geralt told him that he was leaving, and for that alone Jaskier was proud of himself. The man had the decency to tell him to his face what he was going to do and with whom, and he can both appreciate the consideration and be livid at the confirmation of how little he matters to the other man. His lips pulled into another tight smile before the wished Geralt good luck and apologized for his own hasty goodbye, he had patrons to entertain. And yes, he did use that specific word because he couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.
It's not that he wouldn't be able to share with Yenneffer or that he really hated the woman. But she was like a hurricane. It came and went it pleases, leaving destruction on its wake. She made Geralt act recklessly, like a lovesick puppy. It would be funny it Jaskier wasn't so used to act that way himself around the Witcher. But what the bard couldn't stand is what always happened after, how Geralt was left taciturn and distressed after their interactions. Jaskier could handle knowing that Geralt wouldn't care enough to follow him if he decided to leave, could accept that the Witcher will instead pursue her to the end of the world, but what he will never tolerate is the pain she leaves behind. It's not even his own and Jaskier always felt like he was choking on it.
Not wanting to focus on the what-ifs, he put all his energy on singing and chatting up with the tavern patrons. It earned him both coin, free ale and attention. Maybe too many drinks at that, there was a pleasant buzz in his head by the time a pretty maiden sat next to him and started chatting him up. She was fun and she liked music, had a good singing voice as well and that was enough to get his attention, it was enough to quell his loneliness.
At some point in the night, her hand had landed on his thigh and she was leaned in to speak right into his ear, asking about his room. For some reason, Jaskier had been expecting a baritone voice, a growl that could be like a caress, not the musical cadence of her voice. She was smiling when the bard turned to look at her and it was as if he saw her for the first time. Her eyes were a soothing brown, his cheeks speckled with freckles, dark skin and long black hair that fell down her back. So, so different from Geralt.
Years ago he would have given his left hand to be with her. And now he was going to tell her that it had been a pleasant evening but that he had to return to his friend because they would be leaving early in the morning. Except his 'friend' wasn't here, wasn't waiting for him, and might not even be back by morning, too busy tangled in someone else sheets. Something unpleasant and cold twisted in him, anger and jealousy settling in Jaskier's guts like lead.
It didn't register that they were moving until he finds himself almost tripping on the stairs that lead to his room and she laughs merrily against the collar of his shirt, one of her hands unlacing his doublet. His arm is wrapped around her lithe waist when he opens the door of the room. Jaskier doesn't realize that Geralt is already inside because he flinches away when the girl's mouth finds his neck and she tries to nip him. ]
[Geralt's relationship with Yennefer does typically leave him reeling and agonized, all on the inside, very little shows on the outside after she's gone. But Jaskier knows how to read him. He believes that despite what technically binds them together, which he hasn't communicated, what is between them is real. It's real complicated and sometimes shitty beyond imagining. She's a hurricane. She's beautiful and brilliant and vicious. She cuts him to pieces and then puts him back together. He adores her.
Saying no to her used to be impossible, as if his addiction to her removed all common sense. Now the other person in his life is giving him the same problem. They are so different and yet both wield power over him, and he doesn't know how it fucking got this far but it did. He can't believe he felt guilty kissing her. What is this shit? And that he came back here, wanting to shuck her influence off her skin and to pull Jaskier on him, never explaining, listening to his heartbeat and not thinking about it stopping.
He hears them before they appear. He knows every sound Jaskier makes and it's far from the first time he has heard some pretty woman giggling with the bard. It's just been a long time. He is instantly angry, like a rain cloud booming over his head, ready to ruin everything underneath. His rational mind points out they made no promises and that he did almost have sex with Yennefer, but his rational mind has been no part of this relationship for some time.
Luckily it's a woman. Despite knowing many powerful woman who could handle him easily, such as Yen, on the whole he knows they are no warriors. He is far less likely to get in the face of a rival if it's a young woman than a young man, who would find himself very quickly regretting putting any of his stink on Jaskier. Not that he loves this either. Of course Jaskier did this to irritate him. That much is clear and part of his ire. If Geralt came back to Jaskier in bed with her, smelling like her, even if he was covered in gooseberries and lilac himself, it would have gotten ugly.
As it is, he is staring coldly at the two of them when the door opens. Cold is not an adequate word. Freezing is a better one. Geralt's back straightens and he sees the girl note him first. He is generally a fearsome looking creature; attractive, to some, but to many intimidating and the way he is looking at her is definitely that. He does not like making people afraid of him, so he bites back a snarl of warning. It is not her fault. It is Jaskier's fault. Geralt tries his very best to keep his voice even and not vicious as he looks right at her.]
Leave. [It is deceptively calm. If he tells Jaskier to make her leave, it's ignoring she is a person who deserves acknowledgement. But this is the last of his ability to be anywhere nearing nice.] Now.
[ Jaskier face goes through a journey emotions in a matter of seconds once his eyes land on the intimidating dark figure on the bed. First, quick look of confusion flashes across his face, blinking at Geralt as if he's a ghost. Then his eyes dart around trying to locate Yennefer, almost expecting the woman to appear out fo the blue and spook them. No such thing happens. Jaskier might not have the enhances senses of a Witcher but he has developed an uncanny ability to recognize the smell of lilacs. He dislikes it on the spot. And It's in their room. Geralt might have taken a bath but his clothes still smell like her and that can only mean one thing.
There's a pang in his chest, like a stab through his heart, nasty and vicious. He's starting to get used to the feeling. It’s not like they said they were exclusive. But Jaskier had been, like an idiot, and his reward was Geralt leaving this morning to meet with an old flame. And now, tonight, he doesn't need to explain shit to him, doesn't need to justify his actions, because it was Geralt himself who burned that bridge. He owes the man nothing.
So why does Geralt annoyed face upsets him so much?
The maiden's eyes go to Jaskier's face, then they immediately fall on the very sharp knives Geralt is holding. She's still clinging close to the bard, out of doubt and worry more than the previous lingering want, and she's clearly at a loss of what to do. He gives her waist a reassuring squeeze, acting far more clam then he feels. ]
Forgive him, dear. He was absent when they handed out manners. [ Jaskier murmurs, forcing his voice to stay level. Jaskier tilts his head as he speaks, nose grazing her cheek but eyes never leave Geralt. He doesn't try to reassure her saying that the Witcher is all bark and no teeth. It's been a while since he's seen him look this murderous and never before directed at him. ]
Let's go to your room instead, I'd hate to interrupt his... [ ' Brooding' is at the tip of his tongue and he pauses before finishing with a casual. ]... personal affairs.
[If Geralt did give in to his weakness and slept with Yen, he wouldn't be back until she felt like kicking him out. Or until she finally slept after a few bouts and he left since they didn't wake up together really. Not like him and Jaskier. Jaskier who he holds all the night through, who smiles when he opens his eyes and sees Geralt, and Geralt is sincerely and thoroughly fucked. He wonders if having sex with Yen would've been helpful even if he went through with it. If he could get Jaskier out of his system too. He suspects Jaskier smells her perfume; he thinks it might be a spell of hers, making certain her scent stays on him long after necessary.
He really does not want to deal with this. He is already tired of it and they haven't even started to actually fight, which seems likely. If he lets Jaskier leave with her, they will have a far worse fight on the horizon, but he has no intention to. The question is how to handle the girl, because Geralt truly does not want to hurt or upset her. For one, she is innocent of the drama she stepped into, for two, that's the sort of thing that leads to some father or brother or townsfolk not liking it.
He glares at Jaskier, his scary face on full display.] I may not have courtly manners, but I'm not the one using someone else right now, bard. [Geralt knows if he gets up he will loom and be intimidating, so he stays firmly where he is. It's difficult because he has to bite back a growl at Jaskier so very clearly taunting him. His expression does intentionally soften when he turns his attention on her instead.] Go. You don't deserve this.
[ He still speaks so calmly, but the girl seems to get the idea. And few people are stupid enough to want to deal with a witcher in general, let alone one barely contained like this. She excuses herself from Jaskier and leaves, which is really the smartest thing a person can do in a room this tense. Geralt considers it himself, since he'd rather be doing anything at the moment than dealing with an annoying, jealous, dramatic Jaskier.
Only after the girl is gone does he spring up to his feet and his supernatural speed as him across the room barely a breath after, slamming a hand on the wall next to Jaskier's head, getting in his space. He bares his teeth at him but does not speak yet.]
The most frustrating part at the end of the day would be the realization that they did everything right.
They haven't even been in the new town for 15 minutes when they're being called to meet with the town's mayor about their monster issue. Something big, violent and hairy had taken residence in the abandoned mansion by the city outskirts, attacking at night and leaving exsanguinated corpses behind. No guard, knight or mercenary had returned from the mansion and the corpses kept piling up.
It doesn't take Geralt more than 2 minutes to realize the man is talking about a vampire, most likely a Katakan or a bruxae, and takes the contract. They have four hours ahead of them before the sun starts to set and it's better to hunt these kinds of creatures during daytime, when they natural healing factor doesn't kick is as quicky.
Geralt is insistent about Jaskier not following him further once they get into the mansion. It's huge, dark and creepy looking, smelling of dried blood and rotting wood. A vampire can move really fast and would be on the bard before they even notice that the shadows on the wall aren't just that. Geralt tells him to stay put in the foyer and Jaskier, in an uncharacteristic bout of common sense, listens.
Before gettign deeper into the bowels of the mansion, Geralt uses Igni to light up the candles on the walls and illuminate the foyer. Not all the windows are broken, which makes it easier for Jaskier to tell if anything nonhuman that doesn't have a reflection approaches him. Not like he's about to sit there and look if anybody who isn't Geralt comes to meet him. He's going to miss seeing the action but he can already hear it, first some hissing followed by unintelligible shared words. Geralt always tries to talk the monster down first. If possible, he likes to settle the issue without carnage. The low snarl reverberating across the halls tells Jaskier that it didn't work this time.
There are snarls and grunts above him, the vampire and Geralt now fighting on the second floor. Jaskier knows, deep down, that the Witcher will be fine, that a vampire is nothing against him. Knowing does nothing to quell his anxiety. The Katakan is putting up a good fight, Jaskier is familiar enough with the sounds of fighting to tell when someone is hitting a wall, when a door is ripped off its hinges and when Geralt starts using spells.
He's not familiar with the sound of a centuries-old ceiling caving in until it's happening. After the deafening crack, Jaskier only has a second to raise his arms over his head and try to duck for cover. There's an ominous rumble, a monster's screech and Geralt swearing. Jaskier doesn't know what happens after that, only the pain registers and he blacks out.
Officially, doing everything right would include Jaskier staying in town, but Geralt knows he gets grumpy if left behind and he assumes that a vampire will be a fairly easy kill in comparison to most. When he uses his firm voice, Jaskier knows it is too dangerous and gives in, but this seemed like less of a risk as long as the bard kept mostly out of the way. Then Geralt could focus solely on his monster, and all was relatively going well. He was getting some good hits in and barely felt most of the vampire's attacks, but it was fast, and that kept it alive longer.
They fought violently through most of the mansion, on the other side of it, careful to keep it contained there, but the vampire got the drop on him and crashed him through several walls over to the side of the house Geralt was trying to keep him from. And it was only a second wrong, turning left when he should turn right, and too much weight on the ground. The witcher hears Jaskier down below and panics when he hears the crack. They come down and Geralt dispatches it immediately. His incentive is underneath some rubble and it takes no real time for him to hurriedly pull the bard out.
Anxiety floods through him as he brushes Jaskier's hair from his brow, relaxing only slightly at the sound of his steady heartbeat even if he got knocked hard on the head. Geralt doesn't take chances with his bard though. He sweeps him up into his arms and leaves the monster where it is; he'll send them up later to see its corpse and do what they want with it. His priority is the human in his arms. Geralt rides Roach back with him and to a healer. Eventually the mayor sends his people to make certain the creature is dead, which it is, and Geralt is paid. In a relieved bit of charity, they assure Geralt the healing and a room will be on the house, as no other town corpses will be worried about that night.
The healer assures Geralt that his bard is knocked up but not dangerously so. He'll be fine but sore. The witcher is grateful, although he says nothing the entire time, only grunting in agreement or giving very terse replies. It would make it seem like he barely cares about the human with how icy his exterior seems, but on the inside he's a mess. They move Jaskier to their room for the night and Geralt sits silently by the bed, golden eyes unblinking.
He goes through every moment of the fight, berating himself for the mistakes made, for not being as sharp and lethal as he should have been from the start. He would have made the bard stay outside but he was slightly paranoid there was more than one and he wanted Jaskier within easy shouting distance. Geralt frowns and watches Jaskier's chest rise and fall, listens to his intake breath, his heartbeat, every sign that shows he's alive and well.
The bard would argue that the whole purpose of following Geralt around to sing his heroics is being there to witness them first hand when they happen. Besides, Jaskier gets a little angsty nowadays waiting for Geralt to come back from fighting whatever creature is terrorizing the land, fearing he might not return. He likes adventure but every now and then he can also listen to reason, for all the good it did in this case.
After what it feels like hours, Jaskier opens his eyes and regrets it immediately. His head explodes in a world of pain and he moans, shutting them close firmly and raising a hand to cover his throbbing eyelids with his forearm in an attempt to hide.
Moving brings a new wave of hurt, as if his skin is pulled too taut over his bones or a bear has been trying to hug him to death until his organs got squished. Jaskier scrunches his nose up at the mental image. He's lying somewhere comfy at least and it doesn't smell of blood anymore, so it can't be the mansion. Still a bit dizzy, he feels a presence near him and turns his head to the side, only to spot Geralt's big form. Relief blooms in Jaskier's tired face immediately but it doesn't last long.
"You look unhappy." The brunette says with concern at Geralt's expression, he knows it too well despite how neutral it might look to others. It's the first thing that registers and he's immediately worried. "Are you hurt? Am I dying? Ohh, did that thing bite me? I'm a vampire now? That would make for a great song. It would explain that's why the light hurts my eyes. Actually, everything hurts. Is this why vampires are always so angry?"
He's rambling, Jaskier realizes, and not even letting the witcher get a word in. He feels parched, thirsty for water rather than blood, so that's something. Pausing, he reaches a hand out towards Geralt and asks the most important thing in his mind, voice soft. "Are you hurt?"
Geralt doesn't know what it feels like to be human. There was a time he was, he knows that, but he forgets. All he knows is what he is now, and his body is made for punishment. Almost every blow from the vampire would have killed a human or fatally wounded them, and he took them with barely a scratch afterward. He does know what it is to feel pain and exhaustion, but it takes so much more, and it's rare because of that. So he hears Jaskier groan and he instantly gets anxious. All he can think of is that time he nearly died, because of Geralt's carelessness, when they met Yennefer for the first time. When he realized he cared about the bard so much he would indebt himself to a strange witch just to save him.
"Jaskier." He says sharply. "Shut up." It's very rude but it's partly because he leans over and picks up some water that was set out for him. There's a drought too, for when he's ready to sleep again to ease it. "Sit up, slowly." Geralt offers a hand out to Jaskier's shoulder to help him do that, and then he offers the water to him. He needs water and rest and Geralt will grimly sit there as long as it takes to make him get better.
Geralt himself looks fine. There are scratches and bruises but nothing serious. He does have a rather nasty looking cut on his cheek and upper neck, but it will be healed by the morning like always. "I'm not hurt. You hit your head badly, that is why the light hurts your eyes." Humans are so fragile. It doesn't even take a very serious head injury to permanently affect them. He hesitates, his expression very serious, before he takes his boots off. He came right here in his clothing, not pausing to clean off or undress. There's not a mountain of blood on him, but he's dusty.
"You are not dying but you could have. I shouldn't have let you come." Yep, Geralt is already berating himself, having worked himself up to a frenzy of sorts while Jaskier was passed out. He strips off his armor but keeps his actual clothes on, in case he has to check with the healer or anything later. Or get Jaskier more water. He reaches out to touch Jaskier's face, gently, and puts fingers on his mouth. Not covering it entirely, only two fingers, a request for silence rather than forcing it.
"I am going to need you to not argue with me if I tell you to not come on the next few kills. I will not be effective." He is not saying it will be forever, he is saying the next few kills. Geralt will be distracted thinking of Jaskier unconscious or killed, and it could very easily get them both killed. He is aware of his shortcomings at the moment. Being involved with a squishy human is making him weak. And he isn't going to leave him, he gave up on doing that a long time ago, but there may be times he has to let his fear win out and keep Jaskier safe.
Being human right now feel pretty shitty, if he asks Jaskier, Geralt isn't missing much. But pain is pain and even if one can take high amounts of it, that doesn't mean that scratches and cuts don't sting. When his eyes fall on the cut on Geralt's neck and his disheveled appearance, Jaskier immediately feels his guts twisting in knots. It's pretty clear that Geralt hasn't changed or taken a break since the fight, that the first thing on the Witcher's mind was to drag him to a safe place. He has no idea where they are but it seems irrelevant for now in comparison to everything else.
Jaskier shuts his mouth quickly, almost on cue after Geralt snaps at him, and follows his orders without complaining and only minimal wincing. His back is killing him but he supposes is better than the alternative, which is being dead for real under a ton of rubble. He still wants to say and ask a lot of things but moving alone is such a chore that it needs all his focus and he's left a bit dizzy even with Geralt's help. As soon as Geralt's hand is withing reach, Jaskier reaches out for it and gives it a squeeze, the need to comfort back his partner more important than the water. He does drink a moment later, because he's really thirsty and he doesn't want to piss off Geralt more.
"You're lying. That cut could get infected." It's probably an irrational worry, Witcher healing an all that, but since Jaskier feels like his brain is about to start leaking out of his ears, he thinks he's allowed to be a bit dramatic in his worry. Geralt might not care for himself, used as he got to be told his own well being doesn't matter, but Jaskier can care enough for the both of them.
"It wasn't your choice, I insisted. I'm a bard, I need to be where the action is, see it first hard." His eyes stay on Geralt as the man undresses and gets rid of the dusty armor, if a bit unfocused, and wished he could help clean the visible cuts.
At the kind request to keep his mouth shut, Jaskier gives a nod and listens. He's very much not happy with what he hears but is mature enough to understand it comes from a place of worry. He's aware enough to know he would only slow down Geralt or put him in danger. Shoulder slumping and a pout on his face, Jaskier looks down at his bruised hands.
"Would you tell me how things went once you get back?" Is his way of agreeing, of letting Geralt know he does care about his opinion even if the bard's reckless tendencies aren't easy to subdue.
Waking up when the sun is barely peeking over the mountains on the horizon is a crime and Jaskier reminds Geralt of that fact while rubbing at his eyes. Washing his face to try and chase away the last remains of sleep doesn't help much, it only makes him shudder in the chill air of the morning. The glare he would sure get from his companion is the only thing stopping the bard from going back to his all too thin bedroll and hide under the blankets to doze for at least another 3 hours.
Breakfast is quick and quiet, Geralt clearly doesn't want to waste much time and Jaskier is for once silent, his still half-asleep brain unable to come up with something witty to say but conjuring up far too many sarcastic comments. He looks around the small clear they have set by a nearby stream, noticing that Roach hasn't roused. She's still curled on herself by a nearby tree, calmly sleep. Jaskier never thought he would be jealous of a horse and yet...he distracts himself by pulling out from his boot the dagger Geralt had given him a few days ago. He holds it in both hands and turns it over, like it's something precious, watching the light of dawn catching on the sharpened edge. The hilt isn't decorated or anything of the sort, the whole dagger is made for lethal efficiency and not to show off. A bit like Geralt himself and it's a though that gets the younger man to smile.
Geralt has ordered suggested him to wear something worn out and dark for their training, both concepts unheard of when it comes to Jaskier's wardrobe. He put on the closest thing that fit the request, a navy blue doublet that he keeps unlaced over a dark grey, embroidered shirt, and matching navy breeches that lace from behind, over the small of his back. Jaskier might first have chosen the outfit because it went nicely with his eyes and the pants were easy to unfast but the clothes were also comfortable to wear and easy to run in. He always made sure of that last fact.
Roach has started to stir by the time they gather their things and move towards the nearby clear. Trees with smooth white bark stood all around them, circling a patch of grass, among a few scattered large rocks and roots. Jaskier's artistic soul notices the look lovely in contrast to the bright green and he could see the nearby river in the distance, overhear it without the advantages of Geralt's enhanced senses. Oh, the things they could be doing here, composing, talking, kissing...but no, the Witcher had to drag him out of bed at the ass crack of dawn for some training. Geralt is lucky that Jaskier loves to indulge him, no that it will stop him from complaining.
He spins the - still in its sheathe- dagger with one hand. It's the only trick he knows because it isn't that different from twirling drumming sticks and Jaskier had learned to do that when he was fine. He also does it to see Geralt's reaction, although he doesn't expect a noticeable one.
"So, where do we start? You try to tackle me and I undoubtedly end with my pretty ass on the floor? Because there are easier and more pleasant ways to get me on my back with you bobbing about between my spread legs."
Geralt is always awake by the time the sun is up, often because he might not have slept at all or only drowsed. If the sun is up, he is awake. He moves so quietly that Jaskier can sleep through hours of him doing things in their camp or traveling a distance (within earshot) away to hunt. He grumbles sometimes the bard sleeps too much, but he can't complain about that when he's the one that wears him out at nights a lot of the time.
He is at his most brisk and serious this morning though. He waited patiently until Jaskier regained his strength and no longer ached from his wounds. He had to be in good health again. Geralt has figured out how he wants to train him over the time in between, crossing off ideas that would make Jaskier a far better fighter, and downplaying it to acceptably staying alive. He's not shooting for the stars. It is difficult to know how hard he can push the bard too, and he also has to tell himself not to go too easy. Jaskier will never learn from teaching him like a child. Witchers train roughly no matter how old they are.
He looks at Jaskier's clothes and gives a long-suffering sigh. "I'm getting you better training clothes." Next time they go to a town; it is cheap after all, usually the type of material and look that is casual and does in a pinch. The purpose is if those clothes rip or wear out, there's nothing lost by it. Geralt looks at him pointedly. "If anything tears I don't want to hear a complaint." He is not entirely surprised Jaskier doesn't have that type of clothing. He's always in his colorful finery and foppish fashion.
Geralt intentionally does not kiss Jaskier or even ruffle his hair or make some kind of affectionate gesture. He is in his serious warrior mode at the moment. He steps over to Jaskier and simply shoots his hand out to snatch the dagger out of his hand as easy Jaskier handing it over himself. "No knife yet. You'll stab yourself. Especially if you twirl it like that." Jaskier could lose fingers that way. "First simple defense when someone gets into your space threateningly." Such as the way Geralt can hover over him like now, almost always threatening in the way the holds himself, with his broad shoulders straight and his hands loose and at his side to strike at any moment.
"No flirting," he reminds Jaskier sharply. They are about to be touching a fair amount and Geralt is determined not to get distracted. "Bend your knees, balance your weight, put your dominant leg back." He shows him what he means, getting into a common defensive posture. "The purpose is to get you free so you can run, not to win a fight. The nose, throat, head, and groin are the best places of contact. If you are going up against a real fighter, they'll know how to protect their groin, so you focus on the rest." It is assumed that if he isn't going against a fighter, it's an easier option. Geralt uses his dominant hand and puts it forward, showing his wrist snapping forward.
"When they get closer, bent your wrist, bring the blunt part of the bone up their nose, or under their chin to their throat." Geralt is all business. He manhandles Jaskier in a new way, reaching out to take his hand, putting it in the right position and then pulling it toward his own nose, showing him exactly where to hit and what part of the wrist to use. He mimics the same into his throat. "You strike fast and when they stumble back, run. The harder you hit the throat the better, they won't be able to breathe. Practice."
The lack of touching and general affection didn't do unnoticed. Aside from a 'good morning' kiss Jaskier insisted on giving Geralt, nothing but a peck on the cheek when it was clear the man wasn't in the mood for more, he had kept his hands to himself. It hurt but he is aware that Geralt is doing all this for his well being. Jaskier still think it all will be useless, he's not good at fights and that's a fact, but he is willing to give it a try for Geralt's peace of mind. It's already rather difficult because the Witcher is already getting a bit testy.
"If someone attacks me it will likely happen when I'm wearing my performing clothes. I should learn to defend myself while wearing this." Jaskier reasons, trying to justify his disdain for getting new, ugly clothing. It won't convince Geralt but he can try. "If anything tears I'll amend it. Melitele knows I'm great at sticking up clothes and certain someone's open wounds."
Geralt doesn't aks for his help all that often after fights, he rarely needs it and he has potions that help with the worst kind of injuries, but every now and then there's a badly placed blow from a monster that manages too tear into the muscle or gets at Geralt's back. Jaskier is happy to be of help when that happens, anxious about Geralt's recovery but managing to keep his hand from trembling.
Despite the feeble argument, he does as Geralt requests, keeping his flirty and snarky comments to himself. The Witcher has been worried sick about him, has looked after his health and stayed by his side when Jaskier was totally useless and in pain. The bard wants to show his appreciation, if he has to deal with Geralt in drill sergeant mode, then so be it. Part of him has been scared that the Witcher would push him away or leave because Geralt was terrified of getting him killed. But he didn't. He didn't and Jaskier is still thanking the gods that he got so lucky as to have the man in his life. What a disaster pairing they made.
"I know how to twirl a sheathed knife." He has to complain and pout when Geralt snatches the dagger away because this one of the few things he knew how to do with a weapon, thank you very much. He doesn't try to take it back, in fact, he will be happy not touching the dagger anymore, and fights the urge to cross his arms over his chest like a petulant child. He is determined to give this foolish idea a try, he is.
Geralt makes an imposing figure, always did, always will, twice as muscled as Jaskier is, even if they're close in height. Jaskier doesn't even bat an eyelid. Had it been someone else he would have been uncomfortable but he's never afraid of Geralt and not even his scent changes. "I like that purpose. It's a good purpose. Everyone should do it more, less bloodshed that way."
After taking a good look at Geralt, Jaskier rearranges his feet, shifts his weight and mimics the posture. He feels absolutely ridiculous. He lets himself be manhandled into position and then taps Geralt's nose, lightly, more focusing on admiring the man's concentrated face than thinking about the pain one can inflict with a well placed hit. Jaskier just doesn't have it in him to be violent.
"Practice." Jaskier repeats, a tint of uncertainty in his voice. "You want me to hit you? Oh, but of course you want me to hit you..." He draws his arm back, looks up at Geralt's face. The nose, throat, head, and groin are the best places to go for, he has said.
So, of course, Jaskier tries to punch him in the gut.
Geralt needs to get into the headspace he's in to be effective. And he can't do that if he's letting the bard hang on him and distract him with sweet kisses. This is all so he doesn't have to be sitting by his bedside, mad with worry. It can still happen, that won't be the last time Jaskier gets injured and he knows that, but this is the only thing he can think of that will soothe some of his deep fears. If it's only about how fast he can be, sooner or later he'll be too slow.
Golden eyes narrow at the bard and his argument about his clothes. While he assumes Jaskier is arguing so he doesn't have to be in drab clothes, he is also correct. He will be wearing this clothing if he's attacked. He hmmms neutrally and ignores Jaskier's poke about cleaning his wounds. He is back to his quiet and less wordy self when it comes to fighting, a focus to him that usually gets fuzzy when he lets Jaskier get his way. This is his could-be-in-danger mood.
What's difficult is that Geralt only knows one way to train: viciously. Vesemir didn't brutalize him, but he was a hard teacher, and he ran them all hard. He has to be careful with Jaskier, he can't fling him onto the ground when he messes up, or backhand him as a warning in a fight to keep alert. This isn't that kind of training. So part of his focus is also to keep in control of himself and not let his instincts react too negatively. He's a coiled snake, or a leashed wolf at the moment.
He doesn't want Jaskier to be afraid of him so it is always a relief when he isn't. But still. "You create all those stories, pretend I am a threat and not your partner." Otherwise he is not going to take this seriously. Geralt hums when Jaskier shifts his weight properly, looking down at his feet and clearly content with them for now. He stands still to allow Jaskier to strike at his nose and practice with that, and yes of course he wants him to hit him. Or rather, try to hit him. Geralt doesn't intend on letting him, but it's the attempt that matters.
Geralt shows exactly why having a good defensive pose is good because he sidesteps Jaskier's punch like it is nothing at all. He snatches Jaskier's wrist and tugs him off-balance, pulling him past Geralt so he has to stumble a few steps away. It isn't backhanding him and far less violent than he is used to, so he feels like it is a fair compromise. "You have to be stronger for gut punches." Honestly with Geralt's stomach being pure muscle, Jaskier might not manage even with a real punch to harm him.
"Elbows are good weapons," he goes on, as if he didn't easily toss Jaskier a bit. "The bone is solid and the impact when done correctly can be sharp." Geralt can toss anyone easily, so it shouldn't be an insult. "If strike someone hard on the temple, they'll get dazed. Come here." Geralt waits instead of manhandling Jaskier more. He is rather patient, all things considered. "You need to learn how to punch. That would have hurt you more than me."
Geralt going back to communicating only with grunts and hums would worry Jaskier on a normal day. Today, he knows it's because the Witcher is concentrating so he tries not to get upset by the lack of proper vocalizations. It's not as if Geralt is usually very talkative, Jaskier speaks enough for the both of them. However, the man doesn't grunt at his rationalization about the clothes' issue and he counts that as a small win.
He stops himself from smiling at the word 'partner' dropping form Geralt's lips. It's the closes thing to 'boyfriend' that he's ever gonna get and more than good enough for Jaskier. It doesn't distract him enough that he doesn't realize the importance behind pretending Geralt might actually hurt him and he gives a nod.
"I could imagine you like a giant spider, I always got disturbed by the little buggers. Too many legs and too fast, sneaking up on people when you least expect it." Jaskier makes a uugh sound, shuddering slightly. He feels safe by a Witcher's side but a tiny spider in a room would get him to scream in disgust. A man of contradictions, Geralt's bard. It was another reason why he disliked kikimoras and never insisted on accompanying Geralt when he had to fight those fuckers.
Even though he expected the Witcher to doge him easily, Jaskier still yelps at the unexpected grab of his wrist, almost falling on his ass before he quickly moves his right leg forward and regains his balance. All things considered, it could have been much worse, he can tell Geralt is coddling him. Bless the man's heart for his patience.
"I'm probably going to break my hand no matter what part of you I punch because you're made of carved marble." Geralt said no flirting but this isn't it! This is just...appreciation. Jaskier doesn't comment on how the only part of Geralt he will happily slap is his ass. See? No Flirting. He's holding himself in check. "Elbows, ok. I can do elbows, seems easy enough, effective."
It shows how much Jaskier trusts Geralt that he still comes over without hesitation when the man calls him, just like he did the first day they meet. It was the first and only time Geralt really hit him, and it had been because Jaskier pissed him off calling him the butcher of Blaviken, so he wasn't even mad about it. "Do I have to punch you then...?"
Their plans to continue their romantic journey came to a very abrupt end when Geralt and Ciri finally found one another. Yennefer and Jaskier's words did eventually catch up to him, and when he finally held his Child Surprise in his arms, he felt a calm and completion that he didn't know he was lacking. He listened to Ciri's story in rapt attention and of course introduced her to Jaskier, who later on told her the dramatic story about how they were there that important night when her parents finally got married.
Ciri's admission that she inherited her mother's gift immediately left Geralt somber and he knew then they had to go to Kaer Morhen. It had been some time since he was home and it was supposed to be a secret location, known and used only by their kind, but he was not about to hand Ciri over to any magic users either. She was his.
He took to sudden fatherhood awkwardly. Geralt's never been good with being open with his heart and a child required more of it. Jaskier's done a great job at softening him, but a lot of the emotional kindness and support did come easier from the bard. Geralt felt romantic love, but not this before. The journey home was not a fast one and with three people it took slightly longer, so he had the two of them train on the way there, in very basic combat. It solved two birds with one stone, giving Jaskier someone to play off of who wasn't better than him.
The thing was, they had no alone time. Ciri was always there or nearby, either in their tent or a tent nearby, and Geralt definitely missed their sex, it wasn't as if his desire went away. No he wanted the bard even more, typically the addition of when he was kind to his child, Geralt's eyes flashed with want of a different kind. But any hushed attempts to convince him they could stay quiet only got an anxious look and a refusal. She might hear us! he whispered firmly, and that paranoia kept him focused on other things. He did not make a secret about their bond to Ciri, but it was very chaste.
When they finally arrived at Kaer Morhen he brought them in and gave challenging looks to anyone who gave him a wary look. Vesemir welcomed them though, a question in his eyes since he knows Geralt like no other. Jaskier and Ciri were given a tour while they had a very discreet and direct talk about what he was thinking, and that solved that problem. Ciri had a way about her; her enthusiasm softening the uncertainty of his kin.
She, however, got her own room. A very decent room and this was officially the safest place he knew, so she was not required to be within screaming distance of him. At least not her ears version of screaming, for him she could yelp and he'd still know about it, so very in-tune with her. But after the exhaustion of the road and excitement of being there, she was resting soon, and he was able to return to his room where he directed Jaskier too.
It still stayed the same. Weapons and potions strewn about. A few books. No one had been in there since he left, so it may be a little dusty. He feels strange about them being there, about so much in his life changing since the time he left, and now having Jaskier in his most personal of spaces. He closes the door and is oddly shy about it, dropping some of their travel belongings in the corner for now. "I know it is a little sparse."
It's funny how Destiny puts everything into place, no matter how much you try to fight it sometimes. Whatever must happen, will happen. Jaskier likes seeing destiny not as something inevitable but as some kind of comfort. It meant that no matter how much you fuck up along the way, if something is destined to happen then it will.
Witnessing Ciri and Geralt finally found each other made him teary eyed and gave the bard inspiration to write a dozen songs. He didn't, though, the risk of being caught by Nilfgaard was too high. They were still hot on their trail and no place in the Continent seemed safe enough. No place that Jaskier knew about, that's it. Geralt had a clear idea of where to go and what to expect, thanks the gods for resourceful Witchers.
It wasn't a quick trip and it gave them plenty of time to get themselves familiarized with the brave princess. Jaskier tried to cheer her up with songs when his singing didn't put them at risk of being caught by an enemy or a monster. And when being loud wasn't an option, he chatted softly as they walked, telling her all sorts of stories about their two decades together so she could get a better idea of the kind of man Geralt was. Much like Jaskier's songs, the stories were a bit embellished but he also didn't shy away from the embarrassing parts, like being swallowed by a monster, to make Ciri smile. He wanted her to realize that Witchers, despite what other people said about them, had more humanity than most. What Jaskier accomplished most of the time was to make obvious how smitten he was with Geralt. It was also very sweet to see the usually stoic and serious man bond with his child surprise, Geralt was clearly growing more and more protective of hr by the minute and Jaskier found it really sweet.
Also really hot.
Which was a problem.
It had been a while since Geralt and he had scared the forest animals or some poor maid in an inn with too thin walls. Every time they got something close to privacy, when Ciri sleep or they were able to set up two proper tends, Geralt refused to ravage him properly (or let himself be ravaged, for what mattered). It was terribly unfair. Jaskier even had been training! And getting better with small daggers, at that, he was proud that he didn't even stab himself once. Although there had been some small cuts in his hands on occasion.
Contrary to popular belief, the bard could go without sex for a long time if he wanted. Now, with Geralt looking like his handsome self and also taking care of his new daughter with that level of protectiveness, how could Jaskier not want to jump him at the first opportunity? They endured, though, until they made it to their safe place.
Good old Kaer Morhen, lost in the middle of the Blue mountains, with thick, stone walls. You could probably murder someone in a room and no scream would be heard outside. Come to think of it, Jaskier realized as he studied the place, that probably happened more than once. Meeting the other Witchers had been an experience. They were nothing like what Jaskier had been expecting, and judging by the looks he got from Eskel, and Lambert's comments, they were equally surprised to find a colorfully dressed bard in the middle of their forte. Eskel had heard of his songs and actually complimented them, which made Jaskier ecstatic. Lambert and him spent about 15 minutes throwing barbs at each other and then mocking some of Geralt's habits, so they were getting along somewhat by the end of the conversation.
Vesemir was...complicated. Jaskier wanted to like him because he was important for Geralt, a mentor, and probably like a father to him. But the bard couldn't stop thinking about how far Vesemir had been involved in the trials that mutated his lover. How many children never saw the light of a new day in this fortress, children like Ciri. Seeing Geralt's room provided a good distraction, though, and knowing that Ciri was safe in her own place brought them both peace of mind.
Now, the bashful look on Geralt's face makes Jaskier wants to kiss him. It only takes him a second to realize that now he can, so he puts a hand on the man's cheek and leans in for a quick kiss.
"Are you kidding? You have an actual roof over your head and a bed, it's more than I expected. Maybe it's because I expected you to have a space for Roach up here too."
Jaskier is joking, really. Well mostly joking. And talking about the bed, after kissing Geralt to move to lie down on it, making a happy sound as he stretches himself like a cat over the mattress. A moment later he's giving Geralt what he hopes is a proper sultry look. Jaskier is rather tired after the travel so it might as well look like he's sleepy. "What do you say we take a bath and then I help you work out all that stress out of your system?"
Being home was a strange experience, mostly because Geralt rarely calls it 'home' although that's the closest approximation to what it is. There is no where else he would go in a dangerous situation like this, for safety, for Ciri. Witchers are generally encouraged to leave, which is what he does, and his path is in the outside world. What none of them expected was that someone would manage to make witchers famous. Eskel brought that up to him once he figured out who Jaskier was, and Geralt shrugged in response. It's true; his bard really was the first one to actively try to change the narrative around them. Whether that was a good or a bad thing was still up to question for them.
Vesemir was not pleased about Jaskier being there. Ciri he could understand, her being Geralt's child surprise and a child with great power within her. But a bard in a place intentionally full of secrets made him wary. But he knew better than to push when Geralt put his foot down. Geralt of Rivia is particularly difficult and too serious, something his brothers and father figure know very well by now. Lambert is already trying to get a rise out of him. It's inevitable.
Geralt resists the urge to go check on Ciri again; he's never really felt this level of intense anxiety surrounding someone else. With Jaskier he is protective and possessive, so it's always been in him, this urge to wrap someone up in his safety and destroy anything that tries to touch them. But it's going to be a process, learning when to let her be free and not watched by him at all times. He'll get there. It's still new.
Stolen kisses are mostly all they've had lately so he enjoys it and watches very closely as Jaskier stretches himself over his bed. Their bed, technically, now. It is deeply appealing. Geralt moves so quickly when he wants to, one moment staring at him and the next on top of him. He pins Jaskier's arms down and hmms, ducking his head down to nuzzle at Jaskier's ear and then down to his neck, breathing in deeply to have Jaskier's scent surround him. It's a mix, having Jaskier's distinct smell wrapped in Geralt's bed, home, and he hasn't gotten to mark him in too long a time.
He runs his tongue along the curve of Jaskier's neck, tasting him, dirt and all. As if that matters to him. Geralt bites down firmly on where his neck meets his shoulder, sucking a red mark along with the teeth and that satisfies a part of his hunger for now. "Hmmm," he murmurs. "You do realize we're surrounded by witchers." Geralt lifts his head, amusement in glowing golden eyes, kissing him just enough to get Jaskier into it and then pulling back. "They'll hear you scream. They'll smell me on every inch of you."
The last part Geralt is very interested in pursuing. Jaskier doesn't smell enough like him. He straddles Jaskier's waist and lets go of his arms, moving to take off his brightly colored jerkin instead. "Just so you understand what fucking means here." Geralt is not against it; even if he was, he'd still probably be so needy and desperate that he would stop caring if it meant Jaskier's body under his. It still feels appropriate to warn him.
"You've been good," he rasps, running his fingers over Jaskier's bare chest after he pushes the clothes off them. "With her, with the dagger. I've been watching." And admiring. And adoring. Geralt slowly grinds his arse down into Jaskier's lap, eyes fixed on his face. "You should be rewarded."
Jaskier would be lying if he said that he isn't proud of how his songs had helped change people's views on Witchers. There's still a long way to go after two decades, many townfolks still believe the offensive and inaccurate depictions of them, but that only fuels the bard's determination. He's also started to teach Ciri some of his songs, probably much to Geralt's exasperation.
Perhaps if Vesemir sees Geralt and Jaskier together often enough, he might finally realize where the Bard's loyalties lay. There are many secrets around Kaer Morhen and Jaskier is going to have a hell of a good time trying to figure them out or prodding Geralt for more details about his childhood, yet he will keep that information to himself. The prodding, too, would be done more in an attempt to understand his partner better, the darkest parts of him, rather than trying to pester Geralt about his youth for the sake of it. Jaskier knows that non one had an easy life among these ancient ruins and that those who survived the trials carry with them the traumatic experiences that made them who they are. Sometimes, it keeps the bard awake at night even if he tries to hide it, knowing very well that Geralt rarely gets a good night of rest. When it happens, he curls tighter around the man, hugging and burying his face on the scarred chest, trying not to think.
None of those depressing thoughts comes to him now, far too busy admiring Geralt's quick reactions and being kissed senseless. He lets out a laugh when the other man nuzzles his neck, squirming under Geralt. Not to get away from the hold, it just feels funny and he enjoys it. His chin tilts back and he offers the column of his throat for Geralt to mark and bite, murmuring a soft yet easily audible for the close Witcher to heard 'Yesss'. It's been a long time, he's only human, and damn, does Geralt look good all over him.
"I do. If they get jealous, that's their problem for eavesdropping." Jaskier murmurs against the man's mouth, chasing it for another quick kiss. He almost wants to ask him just how loud Geralt wants him to be. The bard has never been shy in his life and he's not going to start now. "All that sounds like the opposite of a problem to me."
Ciri won't realize any of those things, sparing Geralt the embarrassment, so it's all good. Not like Jaskier doesn't suspect that she already knows what it's going on between them, she should have to be blind to miss it.
"I'm always good, ah you just don't notice most of the time." Jaskier hums at the touches and raises his arms to help to get rid of his doublet and shirt, then the rest of clothes. He's also pulling at Geralt's dark shirt to get it out of the way so he can do some exploring of his own. He pauses and groans at the grinding, his growing hard-on brought up to attention, and then smiles up at Geralt. His hand slides up the man's shoulder and grabs a fist of his hair, giving it a tug. "Oh? What do you have in mind, gorgeous?"
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
@yourwitcher
[ He huffed at that. ] Wanker.
I wouldn't say that you are supposed to do anything. [ But he wouldn't react badly to Geralt doing that. ]
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They are dramatic bitches the continuation
After a terse discussion which did turn out to be helpful regarding a monster in the area, she came close to him and for a moment, he lost his head. He will never fully be out of her spell, destiny's spell. Her perfume surrounded him and he found himself in her bed, her mouth on his, his shirt undone, her hands everywhere, but before anything more happened some instinct of his said No! so loudly that he practically leaped out of her embrace. He'd like to say that it was his self-preservation, but he knew exactly what it was. He hasn't slept with another person since he and Jaskier became daily lovers.
Yen took one look at him and did her witch intuition, and she laughed at him, somewhat cruelly, somewhat not. Geralt, I thought you wiser than that. He flinched, picking up his weapons. The cruelty shifted and she was serious when she stopped him at the door. He wanted her, he felt that tug, they never said they couldn't have someone else. But he couldn't. There are only two ways this ends, you know that. Either he dies old in his bed far away from you, or he dies younger in your arms. He's a mortal. He's not like us. There is true wisdom in that he understands, but he pulled away and left her.
The words haunt him on his short journey back. Obviously, she is right. And it is impossible to keep convincing himself none of it matters when he just turned down a lover with her nails in him. The honesty is out there now, lacking the ability for the same denial, but it is no less concerning. Still, what Geralt does is go straight back to the room he shares with Jaskier. He doesn't go downstairs to see if the bard is still performing or carousing, he likely is. He feels like he needs a bit of time to mull over his thoughts. To brood, as Jaskier would say.
Geralt bathes to try and get her smell off him, but it is impossible and he knows that. Gooseberries follows him afterward, cloying and sweet, and her taste is still in his mouth although he's trying to cover it with ale. He doesn't linger long and ends up back at their bed, casually clothed and sharpening his knives as he waits for Jaskier. He is very weary though, not sure he's in the mood for nonsense and pouting. But it has to be done.
He's not like us. No, he isn't. And that is why this is all so damned complicated.]
It takes a special kind of talent
It's not that he wouldn't be able to share with Yenneffer or that he really hated the woman. But she was like a hurricane. It came and went it pleases, leaving destruction on its wake. She made Geralt act recklessly, like a lovesick puppy. It would be funny it Jaskier wasn't so used to act that way himself around the Witcher. But what the bard couldn't stand is what always happened after, how Geralt was left taciturn and distressed after their interactions. Jaskier could handle knowing that Geralt wouldn't care enough to follow him if he decided to leave, could accept that the Witcher will instead pursue her to the end of the world, but what he will never tolerate is the pain she leaves behind. It's not even his own and Jaskier always felt like he was choking on it.
Not wanting to focus on the what-ifs, he put all his energy on singing and chatting up with the tavern patrons. It earned him both coin, free ale and attention. Maybe too many drinks at that, there was a pleasant buzz in his head by the time a pretty maiden sat next to him and started chatting him up. She was fun and she liked music, had a good singing voice as well and that was enough to get his attention, it was enough to quell his loneliness.
At some point in the night, her hand had landed on his thigh and she was leaned in to speak right into his ear, asking about his room. For some reason, Jaskier had been expecting a baritone voice, a growl that could be like a caress, not the musical cadence of her voice. She was smiling when the bard turned to look at her and it was as if he saw her for the first time. Her eyes were a soothing brown, his cheeks speckled with freckles, dark skin and long black hair that fell down her back. So, so different from Geralt.
Years ago he would have given his left hand to be with her. And now he was going to tell her that it had been a pleasant evening but that he had to return to his friend because they would be leaving early in the morning. Except his 'friend' wasn't here, wasn't waiting for him, and might not even be back by morning, too busy tangled in someone else sheets. Something unpleasant and cold twisted in him, anger and jealousy settling in Jaskier's guts like lead.
It didn't register that they were moving until he finds himself almost tripping on the stairs that lead to his room and she laughs merrily against the collar of his shirt, one of her hands unlacing his doublet. His arm is wrapped around her lithe waist when he opens the door of the room. Jaskier doesn't realize that Geralt is already inside because he flinches away when the girl's mouth finds his neck and she tries to nip him. ]
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Saying no to her used to be impossible, as if his addiction to her removed all common sense. Now the other person in his life is giving him the same problem. They are so different and yet both wield power over him, and he doesn't know how it fucking got this far but it did. He can't believe he felt guilty kissing her. What is this shit? And that he came back here, wanting to shuck her influence off her skin and to pull Jaskier on him, never explaining, listening to his heartbeat and not thinking about it stopping.
He hears them before they appear. He knows every sound Jaskier makes and it's far from the first time he has heard some pretty woman giggling with the bard. It's just been a long time. He is instantly angry, like a rain cloud booming over his head, ready to ruin everything underneath. His rational mind points out they made no promises and that he did almost have sex with Yennefer, but his rational mind has been no part of this relationship for some time.
Luckily it's a woman. Despite knowing many powerful woman who could handle him easily, such as Yen, on the whole he knows they are no warriors. He is far less likely to get in the face of a rival if it's a young woman than a young man, who would find himself very quickly regretting putting any of his stink on Jaskier. Not that he loves this either. Of course Jaskier did this to irritate him. That much is clear and part of his ire. If Geralt came back to Jaskier in bed with her, smelling like her, even if he was covered in gooseberries and lilac himself, it would have gotten ugly.
As it is, he is staring coldly at the two of them when the door opens. Cold is not an adequate word. Freezing is a better one. Geralt's back straightens and he sees the girl note him first. He is generally a fearsome looking creature; attractive, to some, but to many intimidating and the way he is looking at her is definitely that. He does not like making people afraid of him, so he bites back a snarl of warning. It is not her fault. It is Jaskier's fault. Geralt tries his very best to keep his voice even and not vicious as he looks right at her.]
Leave. [It is deceptively calm. If he tells Jaskier to make her leave, it's ignoring she is a person who deserves acknowledgement. But this is the last of his ability to be anywhere nearing nice.] Now.
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There's a pang in his chest, like a stab through his heart, nasty and vicious. He's starting to get used to the feeling. It’s not like they said they were exclusive. But Jaskier had been, like an idiot, and his reward was Geralt leaving this morning to meet with an old flame. And now, tonight, he doesn't need to explain shit to him, doesn't need to justify his actions, because it was Geralt himself who burned that bridge. He owes the man nothing.
So why does Geralt annoyed face upsets him so much?
The maiden's eyes go to Jaskier's face, then they immediately fall on the very sharp knives Geralt is holding. She's still clinging close to the bard, out of doubt and worry more than the previous lingering want, and she's clearly at a loss of what to do. He gives her waist a reassuring squeeze, acting far more clam then he feels. ]
Forgive him, dear. He was absent when they handed out manners. [ Jaskier murmurs, forcing his voice to stay level. Jaskier tilts his head as he speaks, nose grazing her cheek but eyes never leave Geralt. He doesn't try to reassure her saying that the Witcher is all bark and no teeth. It's been a while since he's seen him look this murderous and never before directed at him. ]
Let's go to your room instead, I'd hate to interrupt his... [ ' Brooding' is at the tip of his tongue and he pauses before finishing with a casual. ]... personal affairs.
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He really does not want to deal with this. He is already tired of it and they haven't even started to actually fight, which seems likely. If he lets Jaskier leave with her, they will have a far worse fight on the horizon, but he has no intention to. The question is how to handle the girl, because Geralt truly does not want to hurt or upset her. For one, she is innocent of the drama she stepped into, for two, that's the sort of thing that leads to some father or brother or townsfolk not liking it.
He glares at Jaskier, his scary face on full display.] I may not have courtly manners, but I'm not the one using someone else right now, bard. [Geralt knows if he gets up he will loom and be intimidating, so he stays firmly where he is. It's difficult because he has to bite back a growl at Jaskier so very clearly taunting him. His expression does intentionally soften when he turns his attention on her instead.] Go. You don't deserve this.
[ He still speaks so calmly, but the girl seems to get the idea. And few people are stupid enough to want to deal with a witcher in general, let alone one barely contained like this. She excuses herself from Jaskier and leaves, which is really the smartest thing a person can do in a room this tense. Geralt considers it himself, since he'd rather be doing anything at the moment than dealing with an annoying, jealous, dramatic Jaskier.
Only after the girl is gone does he spring up to his feet and his supernatural speed as him across the room barely a breath after, slamming a hand on the wall next to Jaskier's head, getting in his space. He bares his teeth at him but does not speak yet.]
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Third time's a charm
They haven't even been in the new town for 15 minutes when they're being called to meet with the town's mayor about their monster issue. Something big, violent and hairy had taken residence in the abandoned mansion by the city outskirts, attacking at night and leaving exsanguinated corpses behind. No guard, knight or mercenary had returned from the mansion and the corpses kept piling up.
It doesn't take Geralt more than 2 minutes to realize the man is talking about a vampire, most likely a Katakan or a bruxae, and takes the contract. They have four hours ahead of them before the sun starts to set and it's better to hunt these kinds of creatures during daytime, when they natural healing factor doesn't kick is as quicky.
Geralt is insistent about Jaskier not following him further once they get into the mansion. It's huge, dark and creepy looking, smelling of dried blood and rotting wood. A vampire can move really fast and would be on the bard before they even notice that the shadows on the wall aren't just that. Geralt tells him to stay put in the foyer and Jaskier, in an uncharacteristic bout of common sense, listens.
Before gettign deeper into the bowels of the mansion, Geralt uses Igni to light up the candles on the walls and illuminate the foyer. Not all the windows are broken, which makes it easier for Jaskier to tell if anything nonhuman that doesn't have a reflection approaches him. Not like he's about to sit there and look if anybody who isn't Geralt comes to meet him. He's going to miss seeing the action but he can already hear it, first some hissing followed by unintelligible shared words. Geralt always tries to talk the monster down first. If possible, he likes to settle the issue without carnage. The low snarl reverberating across the halls tells Jaskier that it didn't work this time.
There are snarls and grunts above him, the vampire and Geralt now fighting on the second floor. Jaskier knows, deep down, that the Witcher will be fine, that a vampire is nothing against him. Knowing does nothing to quell his anxiety. The Katakan is putting up a good fight, Jaskier is familiar enough with the sounds of fighting to tell when someone is hitting a wall, when a door is ripped off its hinges and when Geralt starts using spells.
He's not familiar with the sound of a centuries-old ceiling caving in until it's happening. After the deafening crack, Jaskier only has a second to raise his arms over his head and try to duck for cover. There's an ominous rumble, a monster's screech and Geralt swearing. Jaskier doesn't know what happens after that, only the pain registers and he blacks out.
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They fought violently through most of the mansion, on the other side of it, careful to keep it contained there, but the vampire got the drop on him and crashed him through several walls over to the side of the house Geralt was trying to keep him from. And it was only a second wrong, turning left when he should turn right, and too much weight on the ground. The witcher hears Jaskier down below and panics when he hears the crack. They come down and Geralt dispatches it immediately. His incentive is underneath some rubble and it takes no real time for him to hurriedly pull the bard out.
Anxiety floods through him as he brushes Jaskier's hair from his brow, relaxing only slightly at the sound of his steady heartbeat even if he got knocked hard on the head. Geralt doesn't take chances with his bard though. He sweeps him up into his arms and leaves the monster where it is; he'll send them up later to see its corpse and do what they want with it. His priority is the human in his arms. Geralt rides Roach back with him and to a healer. Eventually the mayor sends his people to make certain the creature is dead, which it is, and Geralt is paid. In a relieved bit of charity, they assure Geralt the healing and a room will be on the house, as no other town corpses will be worried about that night.
The healer assures Geralt that his bard is knocked up but not dangerously so. He'll be fine but sore. The witcher is grateful, although he says nothing the entire time, only grunting in agreement or giving very terse replies. It would make it seem like he barely cares about the human with how icy his exterior seems, but on the inside he's a mess. They move Jaskier to their room for the night and Geralt sits silently by the bed, golden eyes unblinking.
He goes through every moment of the fight, berating himself for the mistakes made, for not being as sharp and lethal as he should have been from the start. He would have made the bard stay outside but he was slightly paranoid there was more than one and he wanted Jaskier within easy shouting distance. Geralt frowns and watches Jaskier's chest rise and fall, listens to his intake breath, his heartbeat, every sign that shows he's alive and well.
It's too soon to lose you.
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After what it feels like hours, Jaskier opens his eyes and regrets it immediately. His head explodes in a world of pain and he moans, shutting them close firmly and raising a hand to cover his throbbing eyelids with his forearm in an attempt to hide.
Moving brings a new wave of hurt, as if his skin is pulled too taut over his bones or a bear has been trying to hug him to death until his organs got squished. Jaskier scrunches his nose up at the mental image. He's lying somewhere comfy at least and it doesn't smell of blood anymore, so it can't be the mansion. Still a bit dizzy, he feels a presence near him and turns his head to the side, only to spot Geralt's big form. Relief blooms in Jaskier's tired face immediately but it doesn't last long.
"You look unhappy." The brunette says with concern at Geralt's expression, he knows it too well despite how neutral it might look to others. It's the first thing that registers and he's immediately worried. "Are you hurt? Am I dying? Ohh, did that thing bite me? I'm a vampire now? That would make for a great song. It would explain that's why the light hurts my eyes. Actually, everything hurts. Is this why vampires are always so angry?"
He's rambling, Jaskier realizes, and not even letting the witcher get a word in. He feels parched, thirsty for water rather than blood, so that's something. Pausing, he reaches a hand out towards Geralt and asks the most important thing in his mind, voice soft. "Are you hurt?"
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"Jaskier." He says sharply. "Shut up." It's very rude but it's partly because he leans over and picks up some water that was set out for him. There's a drought too, for when he's ready to sleep again to ease it. "Sit up, slowly." Geralt offers a hand out to Jaskier's shoulder to help him do that, and then he offers the water to him. He needs water and rest and Geralt will grimly sit there as long as it takes to make him get better.
Geralt himself looks fine. There are scratches and bruises but nothing serious. He does have a rather nasty looking cut on his cheek and upper neck, but it will be healed by the morning like always. "I'm not hurt. You hit your head badly, that is why the light hurts your eyes." Humans are so fragile. It doesn't even take a very serious head injury to permanently affect them. He hesitates, his expression very serious, before he takes his boots off. He came right here in his clothing, not pausing to clean off or undress. There's not a mountain of blood on him, but he's dusty.
"You are not dying but you could have. I shouldn't have let you come." Yep, Geralt is already berating himself, having worked himself up to a frenzy of sorts while Jaskier was passed out. He strips off his armor but keeps his actual clothes on, in case he has to check with the healer or anything later. Or get Jaskier more water. He reaches out to touch Jaskier's face, gently, and puts fingers on his mouth. Not covering it entirely, only two fingers, a request for silence rather than forcing it.
"I am going to need you to not argue with me if I tell you to not come on the next few kills. I will not be effective." He is not saying it will be forever, he is saying the next few kills. Geralt will be distracted thinking of Jaskier unconscious or killed, and it could very easily get them both killed. He is aware of his shortcomings at the moment. Being involved with a squishy human is making him weak. And he isn't going to leave him, he gave up on doing that a long time ago, but there may be times he has to let his fear win out and keep Jaskier safe.
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Jaskier shuts his mouth quickly, almost on cue after Geralt snaps at him, and follows his orders without complaining and only minimal wincing. His back is killing him but he supposes is better than the alternative, which is being dead for real under a ton of rubble. He still wants to say and ask a lot of things but moving alone is such a chore that it needs all his focus and he's left a bit dizzy even with Geralt's help. As soon as Geralt's hand is withing reach, Jaskier reaches out for it and gives it a squeeze, the need to comfort back his partner more important than the water. He does drink a moment later, because he's really thirsty and he doesn't want to piss off Geralt more.
"You're lying. That cut could get infected." It's probably an irrational worry, Witcher healing an all that, but since Jaskier feels like his brain is about to start leaking out of his ears, he thinks he's allowed to be a bit dramatic in his worry. Geralt might not care for himself, used as he got to be told his own well being doesn't matter, but Jaskier can care enough for the both of them.
"It wasn't your choice, I insisted. I'm a bard, I need to be where the action is, see it first hard." His eyes stay on Geralt as the man undresses and gets rid of the dusty armor, if a bit unfocused, and wished he could help clean the visible cuts.
At the kind request to keep his mouth shut, Jaskier gives a nod and listens. He's very much not happy with what he hears but is mature enough to understand it comes from a place of worry. He's aware enough to know he would only slow down Geralt or put him in danger. Shoulder slumping and a pout on his face, Jaskier looks down at his bruised hands.
"Would you tell me how things went once you get back?" Is his way of agreeing, of letting Geralt know he does care about his opinion even if the bard's reckless tendencies aren't easy to subdue.
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SORRY CUT OFF lol.
It's ok! /kicks DW
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@Risin' up, back on the street, Did my time, took my chances.
Breakfast is quick and quiet, Geralt clearly doesn't want to waste much time and Jaskier is for once silent, his still half-asleep brain unable to come up with something witty to say but conjuring up far too many sarcastic comments. He looks around the small clear they have set by a nearby stream, noticing that Roach hasn't roused. She's still curled on herself by a nearby tree, calmly sleep. Jaskier never thought he would be jealous of a horse and yet...he distracts himself by pulling out from his boot the dagger Geralt had given him a few days ago. He holds it in both hands and turns it over, like it's something precious, watching the light of dawn catching on the sharpened edge. The hilt isn't decorated or anything of the sort, the whole dagger is made for lethal efficiency and not to show off. A bit like Geralt himself and it's a though that gets the younger man to smile.
Geralt has
orderedsuggested him to wear something worn out and dark for their training, both concepts unheard of when it comes to Jaskier's wardrobe. He put on the closest thing that fit the request, a navy blue doublet that he keeps unlaced over a dark grey, embroidered shirt, and matching navy breeches that lace from behind, over the small of his back. Jaskier might first have chosen the outfit because it went nicely with his eyes and the pants were easy to unfast but the clothes were also comfortable to wear and easy to run in. He always made sure of that last fact.Roach has started to stir by the time they gather their things and move towards the nearby clear. Trees with smooth white bark stood all around them, circling a patch of grass, among a few scattered large rocks and roots. Jaskier's artistic soul notices the look lovely in contrast to the bright green and he could see the nearby river in the distance, overhear it without the advantages of Geralt's enhanced senses. Oh, the things they could be doing here, composing, talking, kissing...but no, the Witcher had to drag him out of bed at the ass crack of dawn for some training. Geralt is lucky that Jaskier loves to indulge him, no that it will stop him from complaining.
He spins the - still in its sheathe- dagger with one hand. It's the only trick he knows because it isn't that different from twirling drumming sticks and Jaskier had learned to do that when he was fine. He also does it to see Geralt's reaction, although he doesn't expect a noticeable one.
"So, where do we start? You try to tackle me and I undoubtedly end with my pretty ass on the floor? Because there are easier and more pleasant ways to get me on my back with you bobbing about between my spread legs."
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He is at his most brisk and serious this morning though. He waited patiently until Jaskier regained his strength and no longer ached from his wounds. He had to be in good health again. Geralt has figured out how he wants to train him over the time in between, crossing off ideas that would make Jaskier a far better fighter, and downplaying it to acceptably staying alive. He's not shooting for the stars. It is difficult to know how hard he can push the bard too, and he also has to tell himself not to go too easy. Jaskier will never learn from teaching him like a child. Witchers train roughly no matter how old they are.
He looks at Jaskier's clothes and gives a long-suffering sigh. "I'm getting you better training clothes." Next time they go to a town; it is cheap after all, usually the type of material and look that is casual and does in a pinch. The purpose is if those clothes rip or wear out, there's nothing lost by it. Geralt looks at him pointedly. "If anything tears I don't want to hear a complaint." He is not entirely surprised Jaskier doesn't have that type of clothing. He's always in his colorful finery and foppish fashion.
Geralt intentionally does not kiss Jaskier or even ruffle his hair or make some kind of affectionate gesture. He is in his serious warrior mode at the moment. He steps over to Jaskier and simply shoots his hand out to snatch the dagger out of his hand as easy Jaskier handing it over himself. "No knife yet. You'll stab yourself. Especially if you twirl it like that." Jaskier could lose fingers that way. "First simple defense when someone gets into your space threateningly." Such as the way Geralt can hover over him like now, almost always threatening in the way the holds himself, with his broad shoulders straight and his hands loose and at his side to strike at any moment.
"No flirting," he reminds Jaskier sharply. They are about to be touching a fair amount and Geralt is determined not to get distracted. "Bend your knees, balance your weight, put your dominant leg back." He shows him what he means, getting into a common defensive posture. "The purpose is to get you free so you can run, not to win a fight. The nose, throat, head, and groin are the best places of contact. If you are going up against a real fighter, they'll know how to protect their groin, so you focus on the rest." It is assumed that if he isn't going against a fighter, it's an easier option. Geralt uses his dominant hand and puts it forward, showing his wrist snapping forward.
"When they get closer, bent your wrist, bring the blunt part of the bone up their nose, or under their chin to their throat." Geralt is all business. He manhandles Jaskier in a new way, reaching out to take his hand, putting it in the right position and then pulling it toward his own nose, showing him exactly where to hit and what part of the wrist to use. He mimics the same into his throat. "You strike fast and when they stumble back, run. The harder you hit the throat the better, they won't be able to breathe. Practice."
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"If someone attacks me it will likely happen when I'm wearing my performing clothes. I should learn to defend myself while wearing this." Jaskier reasons, trying to justify his disdain for getting new, ugly clothing. It won't convince Geralt but he can try. "If anything tears I'll amend it. Melitele knows I'm great at sticking up clothes and certain someone's open wounds."
Geralt doesn't aks for his help all that often after fights, he rarely needs it and he has potions that help with the worst kind of injuries, but every now and then there's a badly placed blow from a monster that manages too tear into the muscle or gets at Geralt's back. Jaskier is happy to be of help when that happens, anxious about Geralt's recovery but managing to keep his hand from trembling.
Despite the feeble argument, he does as Geralt requests, keeping his flirty and snarky comments to himself. The Witcher has been worried sick about him, has looked after his health and stayed by his side when Jaskier was totally useless and in pain. The bard wants to show his appreciation, if he has to deal with Geralt in drill sergeant mode, then so be it. Part of him has been scared that the Witcher would push him away or leave because Geralt was terrified of getting him killed. But he didn't. He didn't and Jaskier is still thanking the gods that he got so lucky as to have the man in his life. What a disaster pairing they made.
"I know how to twirl a sheathed knife." He has to complain and pout when Geralt snatches the dagger away because this one of the few things he knew how to do with a weapon, thank you very much. He doesn't try to take it back, in fact, he will be happy not touching the dagger anymore, and fights the urge to cross his arms over his chest like a petulant child. He is determined to give this foolish idea a try, he is.
Geralt makes an imposing figure, always did, always will, twice as muscled as Jaskier is, even if they're close in height. Jaskier doesn't even bat an eyelid. Had it been someone else he would have been uncomfortable but he's never afraid of Geralt and not even his scent changes. "I like that purpose. It's a good purpose. Everyone should do it more, less bloodshed that way."
After taking a good look at Geralt, Jaskier rearranges his feet, shifts his weight and mimics the posture. He feels absolutely ridiculous. He lets himself be manhandled into position and then taps Geralt's nose, lightly, more focusing on admiring the man's concentrated face than thinking about the pain one can inflict with a well placed hit. Jaskier just doesn't have it in him to be violent.
"Practice." Jaskier repeats, a tint of uncertainty in his voice. "You want me to hit you? Oh, but of course you want me to hit you..." He draws his arm back, looks up at Geralt's face. The nose, throat, head, and groin are the best places to go for, he has said.
So, of course, Jaskier tries to punch him in the gut.
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Golden eyes narrow at the bard and his argument about his clothes. While he assumes Jaskier is arguing so he doesn't have to be in drab clothes, he is also correct. He will be wearing this clothing if he's attacked. He hmmms neutrally and ignores Jaskier's poke about cleaning his wounds. He is back to his quiet and less wordy self when it comes to fighting, a focus to him that usually gets fuzzy when he lets Jaskier get his way. This is his could-be-in-danger mood.
What's difficult is that Geralt only knows one way to train: viciously. Vesemir didn't brutalize him, but he was a hard teacher, and he ran them all hard. He has to be careful with Jaskier, he can't fling him onto the ground when he messes up, or backhand him as a warning in a fight to keep alert. This isn't that kind of training. So part of his focus is also to keep in control of himself and not let his instincts react too negatively. He's a coiled snake, or a leashed wolf at the moment.
He doesn't want Jaskier to be afraid of him so it is always a relief when he isn't. But still. "You create all those stories, pretend I am a threat and not your partner." Otherwise he is not going to take this seriously. Geralt hums when Jaskier shifts his weight properly, looking down at his feet and clearly content with them for now. He stands still to allow Jaskier to strike at his nose and practice with that, and yes of course he wants him to hit him. Or rather, try to hit him. Geralt doesn't intend on letting him, but it's the attempt that matters.
Geralt shows exactly why having a good defensive pose is good because he sidesteps Jaskier's punch like it is nothing at all. He snatches Jaskier's wrist and tugs him off-balance, pulling him past Geralt so he has to stumble a few steps away. It isn't backhanding him and far less violent than he is used to, so he feels like it is a fair compromise. "You have to be stronger for gut punches." Honestly with Geralt's stomach being pure muscle, Jaskier might not manage even with a real punch to harm him.
"Elbows are good weapons," he goes on, as if he didn't easily toss Jaskier a bit. "The bone is solid and the impact when done correctly can be sharp." Geralt can toss anyone easily, so it shouldn't be an insult. "If strike someone hard on the temple, they'll get dazed. Come here." Geralt waits instead of manhandling Jaskier more. He is rather patient, all things considered. "You need to learn how to punch. That would have hurt you more than me."
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He stops himself from smiling at the word 'partner' dropping form Geralt's lips. It's the closes thing to 'boyfriend' that he's ever gonna get and more than good enough for Jaskier. It doesn't distract him enough that he doesn't realize the importance behind pretending Geralt might actually hurt him and he gives a nod.
"I could imagine you like a giant spider, I always got disturbed by the little buggers. Too many legs and too fast, sneaking up on people when you least expect it." Jaskier makes a uugh sound, shuddering slightly. He feels safe by a Witcher's side but a tiny spider in a room would get him to scream in disgust. A man of contradictions, Geralt's bard. It was another reason why he disliked kikimoras and never insisted on accompanying Geralt when he had to fight those fuckers.
Even though he expected the Witcher to doge him easily, Jaskier still yelps at the unexpected grab of his wrist, almost falling on his ass before he quickly moves his right leg forward and regains his balance. All things considered, it could have been much worse, he can tell Geralt is coddling him. Bless the man's heart for his patience.
"I'm probably going to break my hand no matter what part of you I punch because you're made of carved marble." Geralt said no flirting but this isn't it! This is just...appreciation. Jaskier doesn't comment on how the only part of Geralt he will happily slap is his ass. See? No Flirting. He's holding himself in check. "Elbows, ok. I can do elbows, seems easy enough, effective."
It shows how much Jaskier trusts Geralt that he still comes over without hesitation when the man calls him, just like he did the first day they meet. It was the first and only time Geralt really hit him, and it had been because Jaskier pissed him off calling him the butcher of Blaviken, so he wasn't even mad about it. "Do I have to punch you then...?"
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I'm so sorry this has been a long fucking week
Noo, no need to apologize at all. We're all having bad days. Take care bb.
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AS DISCUSSED Kaer Morhen
Ciri's admission that she inherited her mother's gift immediately left Geralt somber and he knew then they had to go to Kaer Morhen. It had been some time since he was home and it was supposed to be a secret location, known and used only by their kind, but he was not about to hand Ciri over to any magic users either. She was his.
He took to sudden fatherhood awkwardly. Geralt's never been good with being open with his heart and a child required more of it. Jaskier's done a great job at softening him, but a lot of the emotional kindness and support did come easier from the bard. Geralt felt romantic love, but not this before. The journey home was not a fast one and with three people it took slightly longer, so he had the two of them train on the way there, in very basic combat. It solved two birds with one stone, giving Jaskier someone to play off of who wasn't better than him.
The thing was, they had no alone time. Ciri was always there or nearby, either in their tent or a tent nearby, and Geralt definitely missed their sex, it wasn't as if his desire went away. No he wanted the bard even more, typically the addition of when he was kind to his child, Geralt's eyes flashed with want of a different kind. But any hushed attempts to convince him they could stay quiet only got an anxious look and a refusal. She might hear us! he whispered firmly, and that paranoia kept him focused on other things. He did not make a secret about their bond to Ciri, but it was very chaste.
When they finally arrived at Kaer Morhen he brought them in and gave challenging looks to anyone who gave him a wary look. Vesemir welcomed them though, a question in his eyes since he knows Geralt like no other. Jaskier and Ciri were given a tour while they had a very discreet and direct talk about what he was thinking, and that solved that problem. Ciri had a way about her; her enthusiasm softening the uncertainty of his kin.
She, however, got her own room. A very decent room and this was officially the safest place he knew, so she was not required to be within screaming distance of him. At least not her ears version of screaming, for him she could yelp and he'd still know about it, so very in-tune with her. But after the exhaustion of the road and excitement of being there, she was resting soon, and he was able to return to his room where he directed Jaskier too.
It still stayed the same. Weapons and potions strewn about. A few books. No one had been in there since he left, so it may be a little dusty. He feels strange about them being there, about so much in his life changing since the time he left, and now having Jaskier in his most personal of spaces. He closes the door and is oddly shy about it, dropping some of their travel belongings in the corner for now. "I know it is a little sparse."
♥!
Witnessing Ciri and Geralt finally found each other made him teary eyed and gave the bard inspiration to write a dozen songs. He didn't, though, the risk of being caught by Nilfgaard was too high. They were still hot on their trail and no place in the Continent seemed safe enough. No place that Jaskier knew about, that's it. Geralt had a clear idea of where to go and what to expect, thanks the gods for resourceful Witchers.
It wasn't a quick trip and it gave them plenty of time to get themselves familiarized with the brave princess. Jaskier tried to cheer her up with songs when his singing didn't put them at risk of being caught by an enemy or a monster. And when being loud wasn't an option, he chatted softly as they walked, telling her all sorts of stories about their two decades together so she could get a better idea of the kind of man Geralt was. Much like Jaskier's songs, the stories were a bit embellished but he also didn't shy away from the embarrassing parts, like being swallowed by a monster, to make Ciri smile. He wanted her to realize that Witchers, despite what other people said about them, had more humanity than most. What Jaskier accomplished most of the time was to make obvious how smitten he was with Geralt. It was also very sweet to see the usually stoic and serious man bond with his child surprise, Geralt was clearly growing more and more protective of hr by the minute and Jaskier found it really sweet.
Also really hot.
Which was a problem.
It had been a while since Geralt and he had scared the forest animals or some poor maid in an inn with too thin walls. Every time they got something close to privacy, when Ciri sleep or they were able to set up two proper tends, Geralt refused to ravage him properly (or let himself be ravaged, for what mattered). It was terribly unfair. Jaskier even had been training! And getting better with small daggers, at that, he was proud that he didn't even stab himself once. Although there had been some small cuts in his hands on occasion.
Contrary to popular belief, the bard could go without sex for a long time if he wanted. Now, with Geralt looking like his handsome self and also taking care of his new daughter with that level of protectiveness, how could Jaskier not want to jump him at the first opportunity? They endured, though, until they made it to their safe place.
Good old Kaer Morhen, lost in the middle of the Blue mountains, with thick, stone walls. You could probably murder someone in a room and no scream would be heard outside. Come to think of it, Jaskier realized as he studied the place, that probably happened more than once. Meeting the other Witchers had been an experience. They were nothing like what Jaskier had been expecting, and judging by the looks he got from Eskel, and Lambert's comments, they were equally surprised to find a colorfully dressed bard in the middle of their forte. Eskel had heard of his songs and actually complimented them, which made Jaskier ecstatic. Lambert and him spent about 15 minutes throwing barbs at each other and then mocking some of Geralt's habits, so they were getting along somewhat by the end of the conversation.
Vesemir was...complicated. Jaskier wanted to like him because he was important for Geralt, a mentor, and probably like a father to him. But the bard couldn't stop thinking about how far Vesemir had been involved in the trials that mutated his lover. How many children never saw the light of a new day in this fortress, children like Ciri. Seeing Geralt's room provided a good distraction, though, and knowing that Ciri was safe in her own place brought them both peace of mind.
Now, the bashful look on Geralt's face makes Jaskier wants to kiss him. It only takes him a second to realize that now he can, so he puts a hand on the man's cheek and leans in for a quick kiss.
"Are you kidding? You have an actual roof over your head and a bed, it's more than I expected. Maybe it's because I expected you to have a space for Roach up here too."
Jaskier is joking, really. Well mostly joking. And talking about the bed, after kissing Geralt to move to lie down on it, making a happy sound as he stretches himself like a cat over the mattress. A moment later he's giving Geralt what he hopes is a proper sultry look. Jaskier is rather tired after the travel so it might as well look like he's sleepy. "What do you say we take a bath and then I help you work out all that stress out of your system?"
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Vesemir was not pleased about Jaskier being there. Ciri he could understand, her being Geralt's child surprise and a child with great power within her. But a bard in a place intentionally full of secrets made him wary. But he knew better than to push when Geralt put his foot down. Geralt of Rivia is particularly difficult and too serious, something his brothers and father figure know very well by now. Lambert is already trying to get a rise out of him. It's inevitable.
Geralt resists the urge to go check on Ciri again; he's never really felt this level of intense anxiety surrounding someone else. With Jaskier he is protective and possessive, so it's always been in him, this urge to wrap someone up in his safety and destroy anything that tries to touch them. But it's going to be a process, learning when to let her be free and not watched by him at all times. He'll get there. It's still new.
Stolen kisses are mostly all they've had lately so he enjoys it and watches very closely as Jaskier stretches himself over his bed. Their bed, technically, now. It is deeply appealing. Geralt moves so quickly when he wants to, one moment staring at him and the next on top of him. He pins Jaskier's arms down and hmms, ducking his head down to nuzzle at Jaskier's ear and then down to his neck, breathing in deeply to have Jaskier's scent surround him. It's a mix, having Jaskier's distinct smell wrapped in Geralt's bed, home, and he hasn't gotten to mark him in too long a time.
He runs his tongue along the curve of Jaskier's neck, tasting him, dirt and all. As if that matters to him. Geralt bites down firmly on where his neck meets his shoulder, sucking a red mark along with the teeth and that satisfies a part of his hunger for now. "Hmmm," he murmurs. "You do realize we're surrounded by witchers." Geralt lifts his head, amusement in glowing golden eyes, kissing him just enough to get Jaskier into it and then pulling back. "They'll hear you scream. They'll smell me on every inch of you."
The last part Geralt is very interested in pursuing. Jaskier doesn't smell enough like him. He straddles Jaskier's waist and lets go of his arms, moving to take off his brightly colored jerkin instead. "Just so you understand what fucking means here." Geralt is not against it; even if he was, he'd still probably be so needy and desperate that he would stop caring if it meant Jaskier's body under his. It still feels appropriate to warn him.
"You've been good," he rasps, running his fingers over Jaskier's bare chest after he pushes the clothes off them. "With her, with the dagger. I've been watching." And admiring. And adoring. Geralt slowly grinds his arse down into Jaskier's lap, eyes fixed on his face. "You should be rewarded."
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Perhaps if Vesemir sees Geralt and Jaskier together often enough, he might finally realize where the Bard's loyalties lay. There are many secrets around Kaer Morhen and Jaskier is going to have a hell of a good time trying to figure them out or prodding Geralt for more details about his childhood, yet he will keep that information to himself. The prodding, too, would be done more in an attempt to understand his partner better, the darkest parts of him, rather than trying to pester Geralt about his youth for the sake of it. Jaskier knows that non one had an easy life among these ancient ruins and that those who survived the trials carry with them the traumatic experiences that made them who they are. Sometimes, it keeps the bard awake at night even if he tries to hide it, knowing very well that Geralt rarely gets a good night of rest. When it happens, he curls tighter around the man, hugging and burying his face on the scarred chest, trying not to think.
None of those depressing thoughts comes to him now, far too busy admiring Geralt's quick reactions and being kissed senseless. He lets out a laugh when the other man nuzzles his neck, squirming under Geralt. Not to get away from the hold, it just feels funny and he enjoys it. His chin tilts back and he offers the column of his throat for Geralt to mark and bite, murmuring a soft yet easily audible for the close Witcher to heard 'Yesss'. It's been a long time, he's only human, and damn, does Geralt look good all over him.
"I do. If they get jealous, that's their problem for eavesdropping." Jaskier murmurs against the man's mouth, chasing it for another quick kiss. He almost wants to ask him just how loud Geralt wants him to be. The bard has never been shy in his life and he's not going to start now. "All that sounds like the opposite of a problem to me."
Ciri won't realize any of those things, sparing Geralt the embarrassment, so it's all good. Not like Jaskier doesn't suspect that she already knows what it's going on between them, she should have to be blind to miss it.
"I'm always good, ah you just don't notice most of the time." Jaskier hums at the touches and raises his arms to help to get rid of his doublet and shirt, then the rest of clothes. He's also pulling at Geralt's dark shirt to get it out of the way so he can do some exploring of his own. He pauses and groans at the grinding, his growing hard-on brought up to attention, and then smiles up at Geralt. His hand slides up the man's shoulder and grabs a fist of his hair, giving it a tug. "Oh? What do you have in mind, gorgeous?"
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ffffksajdjkas AAAH, sorry I thought I had replied this!
no worries!!! just assumed you were busy it's allll good
That too, yes, because what is free time. Still, sorry and thanks for being so patient ♥
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Such cuties. Maybe we can star wrapping this one up, though? :3
work week was a bitch, comment below!
♥♥♥