[ Nah, Jaskier disagrees. They should be doing this, preferably every day.
And it's a show of trust that he comes to Geralt without arguing at the request. He gets within react, smiling and itching to reach out to grab at Geralt's shirt.]
[Everything is settled within the camp and Geralt can't stop the very tiny smirk on his lips. It is not wise to keep having sex with the bard, but it also is extremely easy and less costly than prostitutes. He hmms and reaches out to snag Jaskier's hips and tug him closer.]
[ Jaskier would huff if he knew Geralt is still thinking about what they do in terms of practicality and convenience. He wouldn't really complain, though, happy to accept what the other man gives him because he knows he's stupidly hopeless like that. ]
Hah. [ The bard has the gall to look proud at that answer. He leans in against the broad chest, chin tilting up. ] Good thing I have you to keep me out of it.
[Geralt prefers to think that way. If he thinks too much about why he still does it even when there are willing women around, it goes in directions he prefers not to. He has told himself multiple times now that this time was the last, but he is sincerely stupid as can be when it comes to sex. Jaskier's excellent in bed, a fact he refuses to communicate to an ego such as his, but it's unspoken since he keeps ending up in him before too long.
He tilts Jaskier's head to the side and nuzzles underneath his ear, breathing him in deeply to let his familiar scent settle over him. He can smell him a fair distance away, as he just proved.] You know what you smell like, bard? [Geralt lifts his head to look down at him with glowing gold eyes, fingers lifting to touch the faded bruises under Jaskier's shirt. He really does try to keep them hidable, but one or two usually gets through.] Me.
[ Jaskier's own worried are of a similar vein yet completely different. He keeps telling himself not to read to much into what they do, to keep it fun and light and without attachments because otherwise, one day Geralt will leave him with a heart full of broken shards.
Now, with the man's nose buried on his neck and the strong hands on him, Jaskier makes a small and content noise that he will argue it's definitely not a moan. Smelling and scenting him in return are one of those things that confused Jaskier at first and then it left him entirely too pleased. He isn't fully sure why the Witcher does it, if it's in part to annoy him or because Geralt likes to state a claim about what is his. The bard likes to think it's the latter and so he lets Geralt do what he wants to do, angling his head to present more of his neck to him. ]
Ah, I suppose that's why Roach seems to like me more lately. [ There's a tremble in Jaskier's voice even as he tries to still seemed composed and unaffected by the intensity of those golden eyes. He goes pliant in the man’s hands, shuddering lightly when they brush over the bruises. It doesn't take him more than a heartbeat to lean into the touch. It's also a little bit embarrassing how quickly Geralt can undo him. In retaliation and because he can, Jaskier's hands slide around the Witcher's waist and then down some more until he can give his pretty, tight arse a squeeze. He looks entirely too pleased about it too. ]
[Geralt has some lines that once they are crossed he'll get skittish. Jealousy, for example. He already marks up Jaskier far more than he should, but if he starts getting outwardly possessive, he'll know he's gone too far. He cares, that he's reluctantly accepted. He cared before they had sex, every time he anxiously would rescue Jaskier from danger or look out for the bard in subtle ways too. He doesn't want to be reminded of how fragile a mortal life is. Jaskier is very alive at the moment. Alive and warm and soft in his arms.
The scenting is very specific to his witcher side, which he typically hates paying heed to as it sets him so far apart. He knows what he is and he's accepted that long ago, but sometimes he gets wary about the differences. Jaskier's lack of fear of him made him willing to show some of those traits. Yennefer knows very well about that side of him, but they are two of a kind. He keeps wondering if the bard will be able to accept all parts of him, and he keeps proving that he does, and yet Geralt doubts.
Geralt's amused at the grab of his ass, huff-almost-chuckling at it, and he puts an arm around Jaskier's middle, leading him backwards closer to the fire but not too quick so he can keep his handful if he'd like. While he's always been a rough and passionately quick lover, he's tried to take his time more, as he does now. He undoes Jaskier's shirt and pulls it off, seeing all of his marks so very prettily on his skin.]
Hmmm. [He says pensively, looking down at his bard, before deciding to slide down onto his knees in front of him. His lips brush his stomach and he slowly works on his pants.] You said a good apology. [Geralt is aggressive and dominant most of the time, but he can be very giving too, given the chance.]
[ If it helps Geralt any, because it sure doesn't help Jaskier, the bard stopped indulging in his usual sexual rendezvous when this not-thing between them started. Oh, he still likes the attention, performs for any audience that will listen to him and chats up with lords and ladies...but he keeps it's professional and friendly. If they show any interest in him beyond his musical talents, he politely excuses himself or turns them down.
Of course, there are always people who don't want to accept a no for an answer, especially those in positions of power. Those are the times Jaskier chooses to stands closer to Geralt, he makes a good bodyguard even if he doesn't know exactly what he's guarding the younger man from. He doesn't think Geralt might have noticed that he stopped sleeping around, hopes so, at least. It's embarrassing enough to know how bad he got it for the Witcher, the last thing he wants is to make it even more obvious.
What he wants is to have Geralt all over him, inside him, either kissing him or fucking him or....or in his knees? Now that's new. Jaskier has let the man move them to where he wanted to be, let him take off his shirt and has been pulling at Geralt's one in return when suddenly the Witcher moved out of his reach and lips were brushing his stomach. ]
I...I did. [ He makes an embarrassing sound, like a surprised and needy whimper, and his hand reaches out to bury itself on Geralt's hair. ] But only if you meant it.
[ 'Only if you want it', The bard means. Jaskier knows that Geralt doesn't act if he doesn't feel like it, but he's giving the Witcher an out because he doesn't want this to be some sort of payment even if the 'apology' complains started as a joke. But damn, does Geralt look good between his knees and Jaskier's cock twitches in his pants, already half hard. ]
[Geralt only notices that Jaskier's gotten into less trouble with jilted husbands. He hasn't had to come to his rescue that way in some time. He probably should notice, considering he can smell people on Jaskier if there are any, if he wants to, and lately he's wanted to. He hasn't slept with anyone else either, but that is not unusual for Geralt. When he gets the itch he goes to a whore or a curious woman, and there hasn't been a need for one of those. His itches are scratched enough by the bard he doesn't have to go looking. Intellectually he knows it's a problem that he keeps letting this happen, and yet here he is, on his knees. Hungry.
He tends to be very in control, tossing the bard around to his whims, but this is a whim too. The most noise he likes out of Jaskier is in bed, when he's gasping, begging, needy. He needs it again now. Geralt can almost hear the true statement behind the words but he doesn't like when people say one thing and mean another. He never does anything he doesn't want. That's the benefit of being dangerous and giant.]
I don't do anything I don't mean. [Or that I don't want. He enjoys the hand in his hair, peeling Jaskier's pants off and immediately nosing his way against his half-hard cock. He licks it into hardness, rolling his tongue around the tip and tasting him. He snarls at that and puts one hand firmly on his ass, squeezing, and the other holds Jaskier at the base. He doesn't do this often to men, but it isn't as if he forgets how. He tugs Jaskier forward, forcing him to thrust into his hot ready mouth, and he hums in appreciation.
Gods if the bard isn't made for this. For him. He allows himself to have thoughts like this when they're in the middle of sex, telling himself it's common word play or possessiveness. He cannot deny they are good at this. Geralt takes him enthusiastically into his mouth, bobbing and encouraging him to keep thrusting forward. He assumes Jaskier needs reassurance from him to know he can fuck his mouth; it's dangerous to put a cock near his teeth if he doesn't like it. But he likes it.]
[ That's another advantage of keeping his interest focused on one person alone, there's no angry husbands (and occasional wives) angrily trying to kill him. As far as Jaskier knows, sharing his life with Geralt had only brought him good things, minus the occasional scar here and there. He doesn't want to think about the bad times, their fights and disagreements, especially not now that Geralt's mouth is oh so very close to his hardened cock. ]
Ah, fuck..okay, good. [ It's pretty much all the reassurance he needed to confirm they are on the same page, hell, reading the same book. Jaskier's back arches forward, the hand that's not buried on Geralt's hair sliding over the muscular back. It would be better if the man's shirt were off too but the bard works with what he has. His hand still manages to sneak under the back of Geralt's shirt collar to scratch between his shoulder blades.
He swallows harshly, legs parting forward to give his lover more room to move, biting back a curse when the Geralt's mouth swallows him deeply and invites him to thrust his hips forward. Which is definitely counting as awesome relationship progress in Jaskier's books. Soft moans that increase in volume drop from his lips along with small whimpers, Geralt's name and praise about his mouth, his body, his eyes. Gods, he loves those eyes so much. Jaskier starts rocking his hips some more, aiming for a rhythm that works for Geralt, and tugs at the white hair when one particularly skilled swipe of that hot tongue leaves him keening. ]
[Geralt thinks this is all a terrible idea but he hasn't come close to walking away. If anything he gets more passionate for Jaskier. It's showing now in his delight at pleasuring Jaskier without seeking his own yet, not throwing him around or eagerly taking him. He likes the feeling of Jaskier's nails on his skin, under his collar, and he will strip down soon enough to get hands on skin.
Geralt growls around Jaskier when he moans and praises him, a good kind of growl. A pleased kind. He softens his throat to let Jaskier go into his mouth more deeply, moving his head with the careful rhythm he's started so they are in sync. He laps at his head and grips his hips, forcing him to go faster. But that will end the game far quicker than either of them wants so Geralt slows his movements, suckling at Jaskier a little longer before pulling off.
He gets abruptly to his feet and pulls off his shirt, tossing it to the side. Geralt works hurriedly on his pants, leaning in to kiss Jaskier deeply as he works on getting bare. He's hard from working on Jaskier's pleasure and tips his head back, nuzzling his nose without kissing him more. That's very distracting.]
Need you. [He rocks their hips against each other and lower his head to bite him, putting a mark exactly where the last one started to fade. He lifts his head to look around and make a decision about what's best position-wise in this situation. ] Hands and knees on the bedroll. Now.
[ Jaskier swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, and for a moment he focuses solely on watching his cock disappearing into the warm, wet heat of Geralt's mouth. There's the edge of wondering what those sharp teeth could do and the pleasure of knowing the Witcher wouldn't hurt him. Jaskier body shudders, heat spreading throughout him as he thrust his hips and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from whimpering pitifully when Geralt moves away.
His head is so fuzzy it's hard to think straight and he almost snickers at his own thought. Yeah, straight is not something they're were doing, funny that. Blue eyes watch Geralt hastily undress with no short amount of hunger. Once Geralt is naked and within reach, Jaskier's hands sweep over bare skin, nails rack down abs that might as well be made of polished steel for how hard and soft they feel under his palm. ]
I like it when you growl. [ Jaskier says in a gasp, his voice barely audible. He tilts his head back to expose more of his neck to Geralt, offers more room to be marked, pale column on display.
The bard has never been one for feeling shy, not about sex and even less with Geralt but the Witcher admitting that he needs him does leave him speechless for a few seconds. Only a whimper coming through his parted lips. Well, fuck, he's got it back.
Not for the first time, Geralt's intense eyes remind him of a prowling wolf. He wonders briefly what that makes him. He's also reminded of how much he enjoys the other man manhandling him and Jaskier's tempted to tell Geralt 'no', to tell him 'make me' just to see what he would do. But Jaskier knows there’s no place he would rather be than under the other man and Geralt has been so sweet so far he doesn't have the heart to tease him any longer.
Breathing heavily, he gives a small nod, cock twitching between his legs, and then finally moves. Jaskier makes a show out of it too, because of course, he does. Turning and winking at Geralt over his shoulder before he stretches like a cat in front of him, lying down so his chest is pressed against the bedroll. ]
Don't say I can't follow orders when you ask nicely. [ His head is turned so he can still look at Geralt, his hands on each side of his body loosely curled into fists, legs spread. ]
[There is something about the way Jaskier looks at him that causes a little shiver to go up his spine. It's the open desire and appreciation, and while Geralt considers his body made for combat and violence, it does make him moderately flattered that someone looks at it with desire instead. Jaskier looks at his scars and eyes and all the things that are different about him, and he wants him regardless. Or even because of it, considering he just said he likes Geralt's growl. And that he welcomes his bites and aggression. He was testier earlier in their conversation because he isn't used to flattery meaning something, and it's discomforting.
He watches the bard do as he's told and he can't help but smile faintly at him putting on a show. It's not even his usual smirk, it's an actual smile, shaking his head. It's a very good show and he watches precisely how Jaskier wants him to, the smile drifting away when instead he's presented with such a damned perfect meal. Geralt knew he was going to seduce the bard so the oil is already there by their bedroll. Presumptuous, maybe, but they've had their hands all over each other since this began with no sign of slowing down.
Geralt follows and gets on his knees, plastering his body on top of Jaskier's so that they're skin on skin quickly. He kisses his neck, running fingers through his hair, and while there's the usual hunger to all his movements, there's a type of tenderness to it too. That he doesn't want to bring attention to. He's taking time to kiss more than his throat, pressing his lips to his back and shoulders too, taking more time than he usually does. Jaskier's form is lithe and he enjoys the feel of it against him.
He oils up his cock first, mostly because it's demanding attention, and rubs it hard and eager at Jaskier's entrance with no intention of putting it in. He knows where they both want it to go, but he can wait. Then his slick fingers come and he works Jaskier open with them, crooking them just right inside of him. Geralt fucks him thoroughly with them, again not in haste this time, wanting to hear the bard sing with moans and words as he usually does.]
Jaskier. [He rumbles low, his other hand diving into his dark hair and tightening, giving it a nice little tug that he knows Jaskier enjoys. Sex talk never comes easily to him outside of commands. ] You can say those pretty, unnecessary things now if you want. [It's not as if he's asking or anything, it's if Jaskier wants to say them, obviously, not because he cares about hearing them, nope.]
[ Jaskier wasn't kidding all those times he told Geralt about writing dozens of songs praising his skills, his prowess, his looks...because he likes all of him, the sweet and sour parts. There's a special kind of deatly elegance and honest charm that he sees in Geralt, as easy as he can see the moon in the dark sky at night, and it baffles the bard how fewer people can appreciate it. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, of course, but honest men are rare and that should make them more noticeable, no less, when the common folk looks at them. Maybe one day the whole world would see Geralt as the hero Jaskier knows he is. Until then, he will show Geralt his adoration in his own way, with his songs and his body.
Geralt's smile makes the brunette's gaze soften, his own grin less mischievous and more loving. He really would do anything it takes to get the man to smile like that more often, to give him a reason to. He huffs out a small chuckle at the view of the oil, curving the arch of his back as he laughs, his shoulders relaxing. Count on his Witcher to always be prepared, Melitele bless him. Jaskier also keeps a small vial on his person from time to time but today it was in his jacket and god only knows where it ended.
He wiggles his butt a little a second later, keeping the atmosphere playful and light, and hums low in his throat out of pleasure when Geralt's body presses against his own. The position should be embarrassing, Geralt is about to mount him like a vixen in heat, but it's not like Jaskier minds of that if it's him. Besides, he's being gentle, attentive, undoing the bard with only his mouth and teeth and fingers. It feels different than before, sweeter and more special for it.
They're so close that it's hard to tell where Geralt ends and Jaskier starts. A small, impatient, growl of his own escapes the younger man when the impossibly warm head of Geralt's cock brushes his entrance, the thick hardness sliding between his cheeks and not going deeper. The teasing is unfair but the more Geralt does it the strongest Jaskier wants him and he tells him that much between groans.
He grinds his ass back against him, lifts his chest and cranes his neck as he makes all kinds of little whimpers and moans. Supporting his weight on his knees and one hand, Jaskier lifts the other to bury the fingers on Geralt's hair as the man kisses his neck. He perks up at the mention of his name and Geralt's words, the suggestion punctuated by the movements of the fingers deep into him. The little thrusts are maddening, so good that they make Jaskier arch with them, wanting more.
How nice of you to give me permission. It's obviously not because Geralt wants to hear them, of course, of course. Not one to pass an opportunity like this, Jaskier smiles and drops his voice an octave, rocking his hips back. ]
And what are the kind of things I should say? That he last time you were inside me I came so hard I’m pretty sure I could taste colors? Should I tell you how much I like the feel of your hot, fat cock stretching me? Or perhaps that I want you to mark me, make me yours, feel you for days on end? I could spend a lifetime just kissing you, every inch of skin, every scar and mark, put a little kiss between your brows to try and get you to frown less. And..and the bites and bruises..ahh, I like to look at them the next morning. I like knowing that they're on me even if others can't see them under my clothes. They are there, and they're mine, and I am yours. [ Jaskier voice is breathy and a full-body shudder goes through him before he can continue. ] Oh, gods, your fingers...Geralt. Geralt, please, just fuck me already. Or I-I'll bite you, I swear.
[Geralt is far from the only admirer of Jaskier, that much he understands and much of the time rolls his eyes at. At a point in time unfortunately he did end up under his bard's spell, like a damned siren. He used to scoff at how people watched Jaskier with hunger and now it's him, golden eyes following him even when he's not aware of it. To keep him out of trouble, yes, but also because keeping him within sight is preferable. Jaskier's allure is not lost on him now. He's sincere and enthusiastic and irritatingly optimistic, and he somehow gets Geralt to laugh and smile more than anyone else although he usually can mask those reactions before anyone sees it.
He hums in a pleased tone when Jaskier's fingers find their way into his hair, rewarding him for that with a bite. There's nothing he wants more than to be inside of him. Jaskier's loud and while their first time it was all beautiful moans and whimpers, now he snarls and growls and Geralt thinks it's adorable. He's managed to get a little animal out of his bard, and if he didn't have advanced healing he'd have nail marks and bites to show for it too.
He is absolutely not interested in anything Jaskier is saying for his own pleasure, it's not as if he's listening closely and his breathing is getting choppier. Geralt's fingers go faster into him and he's rocking his hips against him so he can feel his cock near his ass as his fingers keep moving. These are not the types of words he should encourage, especially not the I am yours, but fuck, instead he starts panting from the strain of holding back.
He really planned on fucking Jaskier into submission just like this, but he gets the urge instead to pull his fingers out and flips him onto his back. Geralt is not doing great at all with this distance concept because he kisses him roughly, face to face more intimate than he should be, but he wants it. He grips Jaskier's legs around his waist and then thrusts into him in one smooth movement. He groans into his mouth, sinking deeply inside of him. His powerful arms hold him easily over Jaskier and the deadly grace he has in a fight is used just as well as he rolls his hips, taking Jaskier thoroughly.
He breaks off the kiss and flexes his arms, coming down closer to Jaskier's body and baring his throat to him.] Bite me.
[ Jaskier is making a happy sound in response to Geralt's hum and his ragged breathing, tugging at the white hair some more to please the man. Pretty, unnecessary words might not be useless after all, no if they get this reaction out of Geralt. The brunette takes a mental note, a reminder to praise the Witcher more but at the right moment, when no one else is near and Geralt knows he means it, that the words are for him, and him alone.
Thinking is becoming a very difficult task, there's a whine in Jaskier's throat every time Geralt's fingers get buried deep into him, when they press against the sweet spot inside. He could almost scream in frustration when they retreat and Jaskier can't be certain that he doesn't tug more viciously at Geralt's hair because, suddenly, the world goes blurry.
He lets out a startled squeak and then a laugh that ends smothered by a pair of lips when Geralt's warm body presses down on him. He should take offense at the sudden change, Geralt hasn't even bothered to warn him about how he planned to flip him over, but it's kind of really hot how easy it is for the Witcher to do that. It's also much nicer to be in this position, Geralt's mouth crushes his own and oh, oh yes, fucking finally.
It feels so good he wants to cry. His hands are scrabbling at Geralt's shoulders, his back arching up into the pleasant friction of the cock buried him, and his hips rocking back as much as he can in this position. Jaskier growls and whimpers against the other's mouth, not bothering to be quiet. He lifts his right leg further, nudging Geralt's side. If the man wants, he could bring it to rest on his shoulder and practically fold him in two.
The sounds Geralt lets out only make him harder, make something inside Jaskier purr and stir, demand more. For all his dramatic tendencies, he isn't that temperamental, doesn't indulge in growls or hisses often, yet Geralt brings that out of him. One can't spend half of their life hanging out with someone without picking some habits and an ongoing effect on their sense of self. And Jaskier likes it. Adores it, even. It's freeing.
Pressed chest to chest as they are, he can hear the slow thump of Geralt’s heartbeat, feel it under his lips when he mouths at the man's neck. He didn't think that Geralt would take him seriously, when does he? And there's a glint on the clear blue eyes at the new command, the pupils blown. No doubt the Witcher can smell the arousal coming off of him in waves.
Jaskier makes sure to roll his hips against Geralt's next thrust when his teeth sink into the skin on his neck, muscles tensing. To think he could hurt him is laughable but he's still mindful to keep the bite a really sharp sting and not go further and break the skin. ]
[Gods those tugs of his hair are enough to get him riled up all on his own and he snarls every time Jaskier does it, as a clear signal and reaction that it's appreciated. He doesn't know how to be gentle so the more passionate the bard gets in bed with him the more in line they are of how to enjoy sex together. Geralt shows gentleness typically after, he is decent when it comes to aftercare and even warily affectionate. But during he simply can't control his lust and need to split Jaskier apart until they're both made only of animalistic sounds.
Geralt doesn't react well to praise outside of sex, but obviously hearing it does something to him he can't express into words. He doesn't think before he turns Jaskier he simply does it, so he can't warn, only know that they both are getting what they want so he'll be forgiven. Then he's surrounded by Jaskier's heat and the smell of their sex is intense. Geralt usually sees sex as a way to let off steam and the tension within him; he's always enjoyed it, but it's seemed overall unnecessary. Then Jaskier and Yennefer reignited this overwhelming want in him, but it's still specific to the people under his skin, not the average one-off partner. He doesn't want to go back to it, which is the real danger here. How can he stop when it's this damned good?
Jaskier is a partner too, he gives as good as he gets. His limbs are all tangled up in Geralt and he takes the offer/request, hauling Jaskier's leg up to his shoulder and pressing down to split him open even more so. It goes give Geralt more control over his body, effectively pinning him in some ways, so he gives enough flexibility so Jaskier can keep eagerly moving with his rhythm. He gets a good angle this way, thrusting fast and shallow at first and then a snap all the way in that goes straight for Jaskier's sweet spot.
His teeth on him is the perfect amount of pressure, enough that even Geralt can feel the sting of it and he moans instead of growls, wanting it.] Scratch me. Mark me. [It doesn't last, they both know that, but that isn't the purpose. Make me yours is the underlining reality but fuck if Geralt will ever acknowledge that fact. He can't. It's too close to making him panic about what this all is. But during sex he's allowing himself freedom before his mind can catch up with him.
They are really being too loud for being in the open and he's so caught up in Jaskier's scent that they're vulnerable at the moment to attack. Geralt will still be able to likely catch on if anyone gets too close, his protective urges taking over, but it's just a credit to how mindlessly the bard gets him to take risks. The sound of their skin slapping and their moans splits across the otherwise silence. Jaskier's cock is trapped between them, the friction from Geralt's tight stomach as he thrusts desperately into him is consistent at least.] Jaskier, yes. [He murmurs low, breathing ragged.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
no subject
no subject
I still need to figure out if you can get Hickeys that last at least a day.
no subject
no subject
I'll have to be the only one bearing the proud marks then.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
I can smell you. Come here.
no subject
And it's a show of trust that he comes to Geralt without arguing at the request. He gets within react, smiling and itching to reach out to grab at Geralt's shirt.]
And what do I smell like?
no subject
Trouble.
no subject
Hah. [ The bard has the gall to look proud at that answer. He leans in against the broad chest, chin tilting up. ] Good thing I have you to keep me out of it.
no subject
He tilts Jaskier's head to the side and nuzzles underneath his ear, breathing him in deeply to let his familiar scent settle over him. He can smell him a fair distance away, as he just proved.] You know what you smell like, bard? [Geralt lifts his head to look down at him with glowing gold eyes, fingers lifting to touch the faded bruises under Jaskier's shirt. He really does try to keep them hidable, but one or two usually gets through.] Me.
[Primally, he loves it.]
no subject
Now, with the man's nose buried on his neck and the strong hands on him, Jaskier makes a small and content noise that he will argue it's definitely not a moan. Smelling and scenting him in return are one of those things that confused Jaskier at first and then it left him entirely too pleased. He isn't fully sure why the Witcher does it, if it's in part to annoy him or because Geralt likes to state a claim about what is his. The bard likes to think it's the latter and so he lets Geralt do what he wants to do, angling his head to present more of his neck to him. ]
Ah, I suppose that's why Roach seems to like me more lately. [ There's a tremble in Jaskier's voice even as he tries to still seemed composed and unaffected by the intensity of those golden eyes.
He goes pliant in the man’s hands, shuddering lightly when they brush over the bruises. It doesn't take him more than a heartbeat to lean into the touch. It's also a little bit embarrassing how quickly Geralt can undo him. In retaliation and because he can, Jaskier's hands slide around the Witcher's waist and then down some more until he can give his pretty, tight arse a squeeze. He looks entirely too pleased about it too. ]
no subject
The scenting is very specific to his witcher side, which he typically hates paying heed to as it sets him so far apart. He knows what he is and he's accepted that long ago, but sometimes he gets wary about the differences. Jaskier's lack of fear of him made him willing to show some of those traits. Yennefer knows very well about that side of him, but they are two of a kind. He keeps wondering if the bard will be able to accept all parts of him, and he keeps proving that he does, and yet Geralt doubts.
Geralt's amused at the grab of his ass, huff-almost-chuckling at it, and he puts an arm around Jaskier's middle, leading him backwards closer to the fire but not too quick so he can keep his handful if he'd like. While he's always been a rough and passionately quick lover, he's tried to take his time more, as he does now. He undoes Jaskier's shirt and pulls it off, seeing all of his marks so very prettily on his skin.]
Hmmm. [He says pensively, looking down at his bard, before deciding to slide down onto his knees in front of him. His lips brush his stomach and he slowly works on his pants.] You said a good apology. [Geralt is aggressive and dominant most of the time, but he can be very giving too, given the chance.]
no subject
Of course, there are always people who don't want to accept a no for an answer, especially those in positions of power. Those are the times Jaskier chooses to stands closer to Geralt, he makes a good bodyguard even if he doesn't know exactly what he's guarding the younger man from. He doesn't think Geralt might have noticed that he stopped sleeping around, hopes so, at least. It's embarrassing enough to know how bad he got it for the Witcher, the last thing he wants is to make it even more obvious.
What he wants is to have Geralt all over him, inside him, either kissing him or fucking him or....or in his knees? Now that's new. Jaskier has let the man move them to where he wanted to be, let him take off his shirt and has been pulling at Geralt's one in return when suddenly the Witcher moved out of his reach and lips were brushing his stomach. ]
I...I did. [ He makes an embarrassing sound, like a surprised and needy whimper, and his hand reaches out to bury itself on Geralt's hair. ] But only if you meant it.
[ 'Only if you want it', The bard means. Jaskier knows that Geralt doesn't act if he doesn't feel like it, but he's giving the Witcher an out because he doesn't want this to be some sort of payment even if the 'apology' complains started as a joke. But damn, does Geralt look good between his knees and Jaskier's cock twitches in his pants, already half hard. ]
no subject
He tends to be very in control, tossing the bard around to his whims, but this is a whim too. The most noise he likes out of Jaskier is in bed, when he's gasping, begging, needy. He needs it again now. Geralt can almost hear the true statement behind the words but he doesn't like when people say one thing and mean another. He never does anything he doesn't want. That's the benefit of being dangerous and giant.]
I don't do anything I don't mean. [Or that I don't want. He enjoys the hand in his hair, peeling Jaskier's pants off and immediately nosing his way against his half-hard cock. He licks it into hardness, rolling his tongue around the tip and tasting him. He snarls at that and puts one hand firmly on his ass, squeezing, and the other holds Jaskier at the base. He doesn't do this often to men, but it isn't as if he forgets how. He tugs Jaskier forward, forcing him to thrust into his hot ready mouth, and he hums in appreciation.
Gods if the bard isn't made for this. For him. He allows himself to have thoughts like this when they're in the middle of sex, telling himself it's common word play or possessiveness. He cannot deny they are good at this. Geralt takes him enthusiastically into his mouth, bobbing and encouraging him to keep thrusting forward. He assumes Jaskier needs reassurance from him to know he can fuck his mouth; it's dangerous to put a cock near his teeth if he doesn't like it. But he likes it.]
no subject
Ah, fuck..okay, good. [ It's pretty much all the reassurance he needed to confirm they are on the same page, hell, reading the same book. Jaskier's back arches forward, the hand that's not buried on Geralt's hair sliding over the muscular back. It would be better if the man's shirt were off too but the bard works with what he has. His hand still manages to sneak under the back of Geralt's shirt collar to scratch between his shoulder blades.
He swallows harshly, legs parting forward to give his lover more room to move, biting back a curse when the Geralt's mouth swallows him deeply and invites him to thrust his hips forward. Which is definitely counting as awesome relationship progress in Jaskier's books. Soft moans that increase in volume drop from his lips along with small whimpers, Geralt's name and praise about his mouth, his body, his eyes. Gods, he loves those eyes so much. Jaskier starts rocking his hips some more, aiming for a rhythm that works for Geralt, and tugs at the white hair when one particularly skilled swipe of that hot tongue leaves him keening. ]
no subject
Geralt growls around Jaskier when he moans and praises him, a good kind of growl. A pleased kind. He softens his throat to let Jaskier go into his mouth more deeply, moving his head with the careful rhythm he's started so they are in sync. He laps at his head and grips his hips, forcing him to go faster. But that will end the game far quicker than either of them wants so Geralt slows his movements, suckling at Jaskier a little longer before pulling off.
He gets abruptly to his feet and pulls off his shirt, tossing it to the side. Geralt works hurriedly on his pants, leaning in to kiss Jaskier deeply as he works on getting bare. He's hard from working on Jaskier's pleasure and tips his head back, nuzzling his nose without kissing him more. That's very distracting.]
Need you. [He rocks their hips against each other and lower his head to bite him, putting a mark exactly where the last one started to fade. He lifts his head to look around and make a decision about what's best position-wise in this situation. ] Hands and knees on the bedroll. Now.
no subject
His head is so fuzzy it's hard to think straight and he almost snickers at his own thought. Yeah, straight is not something they're were doing, funny that. Blue eyes watch Geralt hastily undress with no short amount of hunger. Once Geralt is naked and within reach, Jaskier's hands sweep over bare skin, nails rack down abs that might as well be made of polished steel for how hard and soft they feel under his palm. ]
I like it when you growl. [ Jaskier says in a gasp, his voice barely audible. He tilts his head back to expose more of his neck to Geralt, offers more room to be marked, pale column on display.
The bard has never been one for feeling shy, not about sex and even less with Geralt but the Witcher admitting that he needs him does leave him speechless for a few seconds. Only a whimper coming through his parted lips. Well, fuck, he's got it back.
Not for the first time, Geralt's intense eyes remind him of a prowling wolf. He wonders briefly what that makes him. He's also reminded of how much he enjoys the other man manhandling him and Jaskier's tempted to tell Geralt 'no', to tell him 'make me' just to see what he would do. But Jaskier knows there’s no place he would rather be than under the other man and Geralt has been so sweet so far he doesn't have the heart to tease him any longer.
Breathing heavily, he gives a small nod, cock twitching between his legs, and then finally moves. Jaskier makes a show out of it too, because of course, he does. Turning and winking at Geralt over his shoulder before he stretches like a cat in front of him, lying down so his chest is pressed against the bedroll. ]
Don't say I can't follow orders when you ask nicely. [ His head is turned so he can still look at Geralt, his hands on each side of his body loosely curled into fists, legs spread. ]
no subject
He watches the bard do as he's told and he can't help but smile faintly at him putting on a show. It's not even his usual smirk, it's an actual smile, shaking his head. It's a very good show and he watches precisely how Jaskier wants him to, the smile drifting away when instead he's presented with such a damned perfect meal. Geralt knew he was going to seduce the bard so the oil is already there by their bedroll. Presumptuous, maybe, but they've had their hands all over each other since this began with no sign of slowing down.
Geralt follows and gets on his knees, plastering his body on top of Jaskier's so that they're skin on skin quickly. He kisses his neck, running fingers through his hair, and while there's the usual hunger to all his movements, there's a type of tenderness to it too. That he doesn't want to bring attention to. He's taking time to kiss more than his throat, pressing his lips to his back and shoulders too, taking more time than he usually does. Jaskier's form is lithe and he enjoys the feel of it against him.
He oils up his cock first, mostly because it's demanding attention, and rubs it hard and eager at Jaskier's entrance with no intention of putting it in. He knows where they both want it to go, but he can wait. Then his slick fingers come and he works Jaskier open with them, crooking them just right inside of him. Geralt fucks him thoroughly with them, again not in haste this time, wanting to hear the bard sing with moans and words as he usually does.]
Jaskier. [He rumbles low, his other hand diving into his dark hair and tightening, giving it a nice little tug that he knows Jaskier enjoys. Sex talk never comes easily to him outside of commands. ] You can say those pretty, unnecessary things now if you want. [It's not as if he's asking or anything, it's if Jaskier wants to say them, obviously, not because he cares about hearing them, nope.]
no subject
Geralt's smile makes the brunette's gaze soften, his own grin less mischievous and more loving. He really would do anything it takes to get the man to smile like that more often, to give him a reason to. He huffs out a small chuckle at the view of the oil, curving the arch of his back as he laughs, his shoulders relaxing. Count on his Witcher to always be prepared, Melitele bless him. Jaskier also keeps a small vial on his person from time to time but today it was in his jacket and god only knows where it ended.
He wiggles his butt a little a second later, keeping the atmosphere playful and light, and hums low in his throat out of pleasure when Geralt's body presses against his own. The position should be embarrassing, Geralt is about to mount him like a vixen in heat, but it's not like Jaskier minds of that if it's him. Besides, he's being gentle, attentive, undoing the bard with only his mouth and teeth and fingers. It feels different than before, sweeter and more special for it.
They're so close that it's hard to tell where Geralt ends and Jaskier starts. A small, impatient, growl of his own escapes the younger man when the impossibly warm head of Geralt's cock brushes his entrance, the thick hardness sliding between his cheeks and not going deeper. The teasing is unfair but the more Geralt does it the strongest Jaskier wants him and he tells him that much between groans.
He grinds his ass back against him, lifts his chest and cranes his neck as he makes all kinds of little whimpers and moans. Supporting his weight on his knees and one hand, Jaskier lifts the other to bury the fingers on Geralt's hair as the man kisses his neck. He perks up at the mention of his name and Geralt's words, the suggestion punctuated by the movements of the fingers deep into him. The little thrusts are maddening, so good that they make Jaskier arch with them, wanting more.
How nice of you to give me permission. It's obviously not because Geralt wants to hear them, of course, of course. Not one to pass an opportunity like this, Jaskier smiles and drops his voice an octave, rocking his hips back. ]
And what are the kind of things I should say? That he last time you were inside me I came so hard I’m pretty sure I could taste colors? Should I tell you how much I like the feel of your hot, fat cock stretching me? Or perhaps that I want you to mark me, make me yours, feel you for days on end? I could spend a lifetime just kissing you, every inch of skin, every scar and mark, put a little kiss between your brows to try and get you to frown less. And..and the bites and bruises..ahh, I like to look at them the next morning. I like knowing that they're on me even if others can't see them under my clothes. They are there, and they're mine, and I am yours. [ Jaskier voice is breathy and a full-body shudder goes through him before he can continue. ] Oh, gods, your fingers...Geralt. Geralt, please, just fuck me already. Or I-I'll bite you, I swear.
no subject
He hums in a pleased tone when Jaskier's fingers find their way into his hair, rewarding him for that with a bite. There's nothing he wants more than to be inside of him. Jaskier's loud and while their first time it was all beautiful moans and whimpers, now he snarls and growls and Geralt thinks it's adorable. He's managed to get a little animal out of his bard, and if he didn't have advanced healing he'd have nail marks and bites to show for it too.
He is absolutely not interested in anything Jaskier is saying for his own pleasure, it's not as if he's listening closely and his breathing is getting choppier. Geralt's fingers go faster into him and he's rocking his hips against him so he can feel his cock near his ass as his fingers keep moving. These are not the types of words he should encourage, especially not the I am yours, but fuck, instead he starts panting from the strain of holding back.
He really planned on fucking Jaskier into submission just like this, but he gets the urge instead to pull his fingers out and flips him onto his back. Geralt is not doing great at all with this distance concept because he kisses him roughly, face to face more intimate than he should be, but he wants it. He grips Jaskier's legs around his waist and then thrusts into him in one smooth movement. He groans into his mouth, sinking deeply inside of him. His powerful arms hold him easily over Jaskier and the deadly grace he has in a fight is used just as well as he rolls his hips, taking Jaskier thoroughly.
He breaks off the kiss and flexes his arms, coming down closer to Jaskier's body and baring his throat to him.] Bite me.
no subject
Thinking is becoming a very difficult task, there's a whine in Jaskier's throat every time Geralt's fingers get buried deep into him, when they press against the sweet spot inside. He could almost scream in frustration when they retreat and Jaskier can't be certain that he doesn't tug more viciously at Geralt's hair because, suddenly, the world goes blurry.
He lets out a startled squeak and then a laugh that ends smothered by a pair of lips when Geralt's warm body presses down on him. He should take offense at the sudden change, Geralt hasn't even bothered to warn him about how he planned to flip him over, but it's kind of really hot how easy it is for the Witcher to do that. It's also much nicer to be in this position, Geralt's mouth crushes his own and oh, oh yes, fucking finally.
It feels so good he wants to cry. His hands are scrabbling at Geralt's shoulders, his back arching up into the pleasant friction of the cock buried him, and his hips rocking back as much as he can in this position. Jaskier growls and whimpers against the other's mouth, not bothering to be quiet. He lifts his right leg further, nudging Geralt's side. If the man wants, he could bring it to rest on his shoulder and practically fold him in two.
The sounds Geralt lets out only make him harder, make something inside Jaskier purr and stir, demand more. For all his dramatic tendencies, he isn't that temperamental, doesn't indulge in growls or hisses often, yet Geralt brings that out of him. One can't spend half of their life hanging out with someone without picking some habits and an ongoing effect on their sense of self. And Jaskier likes it. Adores it, even. It's freeing.
Pressed chest to chest as they are, he can hear the slow thump of Geralt’s heartbeat, feel it under his lips when he mouths at the man's neck. He didn't think that Geralt would take him seriously, when does he? And there's a glint on the clear blue eyes at the new command, the pupils blown. No doubt the Witcher can smell the arousal coming off of him in waves.
Jaskier makes sure to roll his hips against Geralt's next thrust when his teeth sink into the skin on his neck, muscles tensing. To think he could hurt him is laughable but he's still mindful to keep the bite a really sharp sting and not go further and break the skin. ]
no subject
Geralt doesn't react well to praise outside of sex, but obviously hearing it does something to him he can't express into words. He doesn't think before he turns Jaskier he simply does it, so he can't warn, only know that they both are getting what they want so he'll be forgiven. Then he's surrounded by Jaskier's heat and the smell of their sex is intense. Geralt usually sees sex as a way to let off steam and the tension within him; he's always enjoyed it, but it's seemed overall unnecessary. Then Jaskier and Yennefer reignited this overwhelming want in him, but it's still specific to the people under his skin, not the average one-off partner. He doesn't want to go back to it, which is the real danger here. How can he stop when it's this damned good?
Jaskier is a partner too, he gives as good as he gets. His limbs are all tangled up in Geralt and he takes the offer/request, hauling Jaskier's leg up to his shoulder and pressing down to split him open even more so. It goes give Geralt more control over his body, effectively pinning him in some ways, so he gives enough flexibility so Jaskier can keep eagerly moving with his rhythm. He gets a good angle this way, thrusting fast and shallow at first and then a snap all the way in that goes straight for Jaskier's sweet spot.
His teeth on him is the perfect amount of pressure, enough that even Geralt can feel the sting of it and he moans instead of growls, wanting it.] Scratch me. Mark me. [It doesn't last, they both know that, but that isn't the purpose. Make me yours is the underlining reality but fuck if Geralt will ever acknowledge that fact. He can't. It's too close to making him panic about what this all is. But during sex he's allowing himself freedom before his mind can catch up with him.
They are really being too loud for being in the open and he's so caught up in Jaskier's scent that they're vulnerable at the moment to attack. Geralt will still be able to likely catch on if anyone gets too close, his protective urges taking over, but it's just a credit to how mindlessly the bard gets him to take risks. The sound of their skin slapping and their moans splits across the otherwise silence. Jaskier's cock is trapped between them, the friction from Geralt's tight stomach as he thrusts desperately into him is consistent at least.] Jaskier, yes. [He murmurs low, breathing ragged.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)