Sex is easy to enjoy though doing so with someone he cares about makes it far better. Most nights spent with others in bed are strangers these days, though fewer and farther between. He hasn't visited a local brothel in some time, nor has he wanted to. After that day in the cave he hasn't even thought about it.
Now here they are, tangled up in one another and Geralt ready to give Jaskier whatever he needs. Lips part with that leg at his hip and Geralt's belly squirms with delight at the way Jaskier pleads, the way he sounds and looks beneath him like this.
"I know," he states simply, offering another grind of his hip and upper thigh against the man's cock, mouth lowering to kiss down his jaw and neck. His next words are just as simple: "Roll over."
As in, on his stomach. Geralt has a very specific plan, see, and he makes his intentions clear with another rock against Jaskier's hardness, before he's forcing his hips away so the bard can move.
The musician's attention is for Geralt's alone these days as well. He performs and smiles but doesn't pursue anything beyond the act, politely turning down people if they show interest in anything beyond his musical talents. He doesn't talk about exclusivity with Geralt because he still wouldn't dare to state any sort of claim over the witcher, no matter how much he might want it.
Jaskier hisses after the last grind of Geralt's hips when the man moves away. The words come out a cross between Geralt's name, a whimper and more pleas, screwing his eyes shut for a second. Jaskier was enjoying the kisses to his neck a bit too much, wondering if Geralt could leave some marks.
He obeys the command without thinking much of it, blinking is slight confusion but turning to lie on his belly. Geralt rarely asks for anything and Jaskier would trust his life, so Geralt is treated to the view of the muscles of his back and the curve of his ass, pale skin on display, scattered with light freckles here and there. Jaskier looks at him over his shoulders with big eyes, a silent question about what is the other planning to do.
Leaving marks on Jaskier's body won't ever be a problem though right now Geralt has something else in mind. He sits back to allow Jaskier to turn over, the sight spreading more heat through him as his eyes take in the other's body. They've seen one another naked plenty of times before, just an unavoidable feature of traveling together for so long, but in this context it's as though Geralt is seeing him for the first time. And he likes what he sees.
One hand skims up the back of a thigh and he urges Jaskier's legs open, to spread out where he's lying. Geralt then leans in to start trailing kisses from the nape of his neck downward, taking his sweet time to revel in the way certain touches make the other shiver or squirm, or the soft breaths that catch in his throat.
"Just relax," he comments after that silent question aimed his way, lips pausing over the swell of his rear to slide his hand up from his thigh and over a cheek. Geralt hums quietly, kisses trailing further down over freckles and smooth skin until his hands knead at his partner's ass, tongue slowly working its way in between to sensitive skin.
"This is payback for the teasing, isn't it...?" Jaskier murmurs as Geralt is nuzzling against his ear, whimpering at the way it sends a rush down that has him shivering. He rests his forehead on the sheets and groans as the lips move lower, over the divots in his lower back, and parts his legs when Geralt gently touches him.
He's hyper-aware of everywhere the man is touching him and Jaskier yelps at the feel of hot breath against the curve of his ass and the wetness that follows. He startles just a little, hips twitching, and snaps his head back to stare at Geralt. His mouth opens but no sound comes out of it, and the brunette turn scarlet before closing his mouth again. He's flushed with nervous excitement and arousal and when he lies down on the bed again he's trying to looking everyone but at Geralt's.
"Never done this before." He mumbles, feeling the need to explain his reaction, which he realizes a second later it's stupid because it's probably obvious. He doesn't tell Geralt to stop, just licks his kiss-swollen lips and spreads his legs a little further.
Geralt moves back for a moment at Jaskier's first reaction, not wanting to get knocked in the face, though he's amused at how jumpy he's being. That explanation makes sense though and Geralt is actually surprised, considering Jaskier's sexual history.
"Really, I'm the first?" He actually sounds curious and gently presses teeth into the muscle of one cheek, kissing over it soon after. "I haven't done this in at least two decades."
There's his little confession for the night. He may be out of practice but he knows how to run on instinct, and so far they've managed pretty damn well. Legs part further and Geralt's hands grip Jaskier's hips before he presses his mouth lower, tongue sneaking out again to shamelessly lick a stripe up and over his hole. He takes his time but doesn't tease after so long, knowing Jaskier needs relief. His breath is hot against his skin as Geralt works over him with those long, pressing licks, hands kneading him open for his mouth. He's unabashed in the way he takes his time to get Jaskier wet with his tongue, wanting him to relax as much as he can.
"I know the tales of my past sexual rendezvous are varied and hardly ever exaggerated but no, this isn'.t..something that I, ehm, had the pleasure to experience with any of my partners before. "
Jaskier is pursing his lips a little at the amused glint he can spot in Geralt golden eyes. He has the right to be surprised every now and then, the bard thinks to himself, the blush on his cheeks only lessening marginally.
"Yes, you are the first." And it's actually kind of a comforting idea, to know there's still something he can give to Geralt and Geralt alone. The man explaining how it's been a while for him brings a shy smile to Jaskier's lips.
The bite tears another low whimper from his throat and he arches his back. He doesn't bother with words anymore, they're too hard to get out, and he knows Geralt will always take care of his comfort and pleasure. Jaskier rests his cheek on sheets under him and lets himself feel, his hands gripping at the fabric. It's new and different and it's been a long while he's felt untouched in some way.
Geralt's tongue on him is hot and slick against the sensitive flesh and Jaskier groans deep in his chest, throbbing between his thighs and leaving a mess of pre-come under him. His thighs tense and release until they’re shaking and he finds himself pushing back into the heat of Geralt's tongue mouth and the pressure of his mouth. "F-fuck...oh, fuck, Geralt..."
It is actually kind of sweet to know Geralt can offer him something new too. In his long lifetime, it may be harder to do so for Geralt, but every new experience with Jaskier has been enjoyable thus far. He has no complaints. No one's certainly swallowed him the way he just did minutes ago.
Humming against the pushing, Geralt only presses forward with more urgency, taking that as a sign for more as he licks over his hole again and again, fingers digging into his flesh. Without warning Geralt flicks the tip of his tongue against him instead, aiming to gently slip inside. The press of a tongue isn't as blunt but he's still careful, testing the waters with another hum, a silent question of whether this is alright.]
The only thing Jaskier regrets is that he's already so far gone after waiting so much that things are going to end embarrassingly quickly the moment he touches himself. So he doesn't. He's left panting when Geralt hums against him, and it's not fair, really is not, to turn that trick on him.
He has Geralt's scent in his nose because the sheets smell like him, Geralt's hands on his thighs, and then Geralt’s tongue is sliding in... and Jaskier's eyes roll into the back of his head. The long whine he lets out it's probably all the answer the Witcher needs, it's a loud and needy agreement to do whatever he wants to the bard's body.
His breath stutter at the feeling and the realization that Geralt's tongue is on his arse, and jesus-fucking-christ, something like this should feel filthy instead of so, so hot and so good. Jaskier's brain short-circuits for a few seconds, his sensitive rim twitching, moaning lowly at the constant barrage of sensation.
Jaskier is only human and has waited for this long enough, so Geralt can hardly blame him if he comes too quickly. No judgment here. The noises he's making alone have Geralt's senses alert and ready to give him everything, the keening whines and moans spreading pleasant warmth throughout his body.
His tongue slips in deeper with each slow thrust, testing his limits as well as Jaskier's patience. The low moans urge Geralt on though and he can't help but hum again, a natural reaction to hearing the other so pleased, wanting to give him whatever pleasure he can manage. The motion of his tongue gains actual rhythm as he begins to fuck him quicker, wet and lewd with the heat of his mouth panting against skin. He'll stop if asked but part of him wonders if he can truly make Jaskier come just with his tongue, continuing on as a hand slides up the back of his thigh with a light scrape of nails.
He will be relieved to know Geralt won't mock him for it, he's holding onto his self-control but it won't be for much longer. Geralt's tongue has a specific pace, a fucking rhythm now, gods bless and curse the man, and it's like a match being lit across Jaskier's nervous system. The tongue pushes in just a bit further each thrust, the drag back just as delicious and maddening.
"G-Geralt, I...” His voice is small, no less intense for it, and he can't get any more words out. Geralt shifts his grip and scratches him lightly but in his sensitive state, it's enough to undo him. It's like the breath is punched out of him with a groan and the bard can't help the way his eyes flutter shut because fuck, fuck, oh fuck,...
Jaskier hears himself keening. A second later he's biting into his lower lip and trying not to sob as his whole body shakes and falls apart under Geralt's careful ministrations, spilling over the sheets without even being touched. His muscles seize up as the waves wrack through him and then he feels weightless, boneless. His fingers twitch, once, twice, and he releases the sheets he's been gripping so hard they almost got torn.
"Geralt." The brunette looks over his shoulder, cheeks pink and messy hair falling over his forehead and reaches his right hand back towards the wWitcher. He needs the contact, it's all. Needs Geralt to ground him.
Hearing Jaskier fall apart is almost as good as seeing it for himself. The combination is something else and Geralt is happy to be the cause. He continues to fuck him through the waves of pleasure until Jaskier is trembling more than bucking backward, easing his mouth away to kiss over the swell of his ass instead. Geralt is even a bit winded where he continues to kiss upward along his back, between his shoulders, and finally against his neck.
"You didn't even touch yourself," he points out curiously, sounding impressed as he bites gently near Jaskier's shoulder. Geralt opts to lay down beside him but smooths a hand across his back, arm enveloping the man to pull him in close. That look is all the permission he needs.
He's decided he likes seeing Jaskier like this, flush and disheveled, and wants to give him more if he can.
Jaskier feels his face heat up at the words but he's too blissed out to care about the fact Geralt might never let him live this down. He hums contentedly after every little kiss and touches to his skin, body still on edge but not to an unbearable degree like before.
Geralt lies down next to him and Jaskier doesn't need more prompting, leaning against his chest and sliding a leg between the man's own. His smile widens and he tilts his chin up until his mouth is next to Geralt's ear.
"You're that good." The Witcher doesn't need an ego boost but credit where credit is due. It's been a long while since anybody managed to surprise him in bed in such a pleasurable way. "Thank you."
He happily nuzzles the man, kissing and sucking along his jawline, practically purring. His hands trail over the curve of Geralt's waist, hands curling around the hipbone and then a fingers traces down the 'V' line that leads towards his groin. "Are you okay?"
'Do you want more?' is what the bard is asking. He's tired and a tad sensitive right now but is the good sort of tired and sensitive.
The little ego boost is appreciated nonetheless and Geralt hums from the little kisses along his skin, enjoying the attention. As Jaskier's leg slips between his own though Geralt's hand wanders back down over the man's rear, taking the chance to give it a nice squeeze.
"I was hoping to fuck you," he admits frankly, though Geralt doesn't make a move quite yet. He knows his own stamina is quite literally inhuman and doesn't want to hurt the other in any way. The average man can't exactly continue on and on for the rest of the night. "But I'm also fine like this."
Which is the truth. He can rest here and enjoy touch as much as anything further. Jaskier's practically glowing beside him and it's a refreshing sight after a long day.
Would Geralt enjoy another ego boost in the form of a song? Because Jaskier could write around half a dozen praising his talented mouth alone. And raunchy songs are always a hit among the common folks, it could get them some coin.
Jaskier's lips curls into a grin against Geralt's skin at the ass squeeze, his eyes soft as he leans back a little to better look at the other man. This is one of the things he likes the most about Geralt. He doesn't beat around the bush, plays tricks and games, lies about what he thinks and what he wants. Honesty is so rare nowadays that it melts the bard's heart.
"A very tempting offer. Doable. Just give me a few minutes?" The last question comes out a little apologetic, even if Geralt assured him it was fine to not do more than cuddle. He doesn't have a Witcher's stamina and Jaskier knows his limits but he isn't done with Geralt, no by a long shot. The brunette lazily traces the shape of a scar, feeling the smooth skin against his finger.
"We can still start and I'm sure my body will catch up in no time. You're hot as a furnace." Jaskier grins. If the brunette's tone is any indication, he doesn't have a problem with it. "I bet your cock will feel wonderful inside me."
A few minutes. Jaskier is being generous for them both but Geralt accepts the offer with a simple hum and stroke of fingers along the man's bottom. He could use a breather for a few minutes too, giving himself time to calm down and reevaluate the situation. Geralt isn't about to run out the door with regret but they've both been so caught up in how horny they are.
Have been. For a long time.
"Have you thought of it often?" He asks both to tease but also genuinely curious. Geralt meets that grin with a softer smile of his own, though the look in his eyes is more wicked. "Before you finally kissed me?"
He doesn't want to keep Geralt waiting, they have done enough of that in the past. Sure, he will be rather sensitive when they get on it but that's not a terrible turn-off. Jaskier's breathing isn't as labored now, his chest rising and falling at a steady pace, and he only worries that the smile on his face might have grown to idiotic proportions.
His eyes fall closed for a second and the bard sighs in delight. The hands kneading at his ass make him squirm and then press back against the touches, almost inviting Geralt to brush a finger between his cheeks. The Witcher is right in the realization that they had been trying and failing to hold back for a while now.
"About your gorgeous dick in particular or about us together in general? Nevermind, the answer is yes to both." Jaskier's eyes fall to Geralt's chest, averting the piercing golden ones even if the man is smiling at him quite endearingly, a flush creeping up to his cheekbones that has nothing to with this recent release.
"I'm sure you remember Princess Pavetta's betrothal. Before things started to turn weird, you came to my rescue...you were making fun of me, calling me a eunuch, you sly bastard. But it was also the first time you ever smiled at me, amused and teasing. I didn't immediately realize it but I think I knew it right there because I kept thinking about that look."
And isn't that pathetic? It's been more than a decade and he would have taken those feelings to his grave if it weren't for the snowstorm.
The comfort of having someone familiar in bed with him is like nothing else, and sadly not something Geralt has experienced often in his long life. Being on the move and constantly meeting strangers often led to short encounters, but Jaskier has stuck around for so long now, he likely knows Geralt better than anyone else he's met on the road. It's a sobering thought.
Geralt is happy to continue touching on the man as he speaks, noting the blush on his cheeks and the way his gaze shies away. It's sweet in a way Geralt never thought he'd think of when it comes to Jaskier. Usually the bard is far bolder and more outspoken, but to see him in these softer moments is also quite nice.
"That's... very specific," he comments quietly, though his tone isn't judgmental one way or another, more curious. Hands continue to pet over Jaskier's lovely bottom as he speaks, one shifting to his thigh to urge it over his own, giving him better access to rub down between his cheeks. He's still a little wet from how openly Geralt's mouth had been working on him. "And a long time ago. How did I not notice sooner?"
Jaskier had shared beds with plenty of people but that's to the same as sharing intimacy. Fleeting encounters and one-night stands were his usual too, not open, sincere talks about relationships and cuddling. He likes this best and he likes it because of who he's sharing it with.
"You can be really dumb." Jaskier says, matter-of-factly, as if he's talking about the weather and not insulting a Witcher to his face. It's a joke, of course, he can't keep his face straight face straight and a grin breaks out. "Nah, I tried to keep that to myself, it seemed safer. I never thought you would be interested."
'Why would someone like you look at me twice?', is what he doesn't say. Jaskier might boast about his talents but he knows he isn't special. He's just mortal. Weak. Nothing magic or noteworthy about him aside from his voice and Geralt doesn't even like his singing. Fortunately, the man seems to like other things about him, enough to keep him around.
Jaskier wraps his thigh over Geralt's more muscular one after little prompting, hips canting and leaving himself open and exposed. His breath hitches when the rough pad of a finger catches on the rim and he presses back against the drag with only the smallest of body trembles. It feels nice, he's just very sensitive still. The younger man wonders about how it would be to have Geralt fuck him like that when he's still raw and tender.
"I just didn't expect you to think of me that way. Most men don't." That he knows of. Geralt isn't very observant when it comes to these things.
Geralt is slow and methodicial with his touches now that they've taken care of the heat of desperation, and neither of them are dying to find relief. He likes being able to slow down and take in the softer moments, to really see the subtle ways Jaskier shifts or shivers from his touch.
"We need one of those bath oils you're so fond of," he points out while fingers continue to tease with the slow, rubbing motions. Jaskier's body isn't like a woman's after all and Geralt has had enough experience to know what they're both thinking of is more delicate business. Pressing a little harder, he keeps the focus on the rougher pads of his fingers. "Think you can manage to be apart for ten seconds to find one?"
Jaskier can't help but give him an incredulous look, eyebrows raising and lips tugging into a smile.
"You need to look at yourself in the mirror more often, handsome." A soft kiss is placed on Geralt's mouth, only a press of lips, and he might feel Jaskier smiling against him.
The bard knows that a lot of people can't see past the white hair and the intense eyes, the intimidatingly strong body and Geralt's occasionally curt demeanor. But is their loss, they never bother getting to actually know the man behind all that. The eyes are a beautiful color, in Jaskier's opinion, and they can look at people with kindness. Geralt's strength, he uses it to protect. To fight for the weak rather than to harm, unless he has to. As for the silent character tendencies, well..no one was perfect.
Jaskier rests his forehead against Geralt's broad chest after that, back arching and moaning softly. It's a different kind of exciting to know they have time to explore each other body, at an unhurried pace, to memorize every scar and soft curve. The brunette makes small, little whimpers and moans at the sensations until Geralt speaks up again.
"No." It comes quickly, petulant and dramatic as if the Witcher moving away from him is the worst betrayal unimaginable. Jaskier hisses at the delicious intrusion Geralt's finger when it presses deeper against him. In retaliation he bites at the man's pectoral, blunt teeth not causing any damage, and then looks up, brushing their nose together. "But I'll deal. Make it quickly or I'll start without you."
Attraction is subjective at the end of the day. Geralt has been called ugly plenty, along with a whole host of unkind words he's learned to ignore, but there have also been those who made their attraction crystal clear from the start. With Jaskier, there was always this underlying uncertainty Geralt couldn't place, especially since he has been so caught up in his own world and concerns with destiny.
"Hmmm..." he hums into the kiss, looking up at Jaskier and finding that warm blue. Have the bard's eyes always been so bright? "As long as you like what you see."
He doesn't need to appreciate his own body after all.
The soft bite earns a chuckle and Geralt pats Jaskier on the butt for good measure before rolling away from under him, standing with a stretch. He crosses the room naked to the tub where Jaskier's little bottles of choice are laid out, sniffing one by one until he finds what's the least offensive to his sensitive nose. Something warm like sugary vanilla works for him... though now he won't be able to take a bath without thinking about fucking the bard.
He can live with that.
He grabs a pitcher of wine on his way back to the bed, taking a drink as Geralt approaches with a kneel and offers some to Jaskier too. His eyes are hungry as he looks him over. "I want to see you when I fuck you."
True that, beauty is in the eye of the beholder as they say. Jaskier has little tolerance for those who call his Witcher bad names, though, and Geralt will most likely have to drag him away from a fight if the bard ever heard someone calling his lover 'ugly'.
"I like more than what I can see. You, silly wolf." Geralt has a good heart, is the sexiest thing about him. He cares and he's honorable, even if he might insist that Witchers don't have emotions. Bollocks to that, Jaskier thinks.
A startled squeak escapes him when Geralt pats his arse and then Jaskier laughs and watches him move away. At least he gets a good look at that wonderful ass, when Geralt turns he will surely notice the younger man ogling him with a grin on his face. Jaskier stretches like a cat on the bed, on his stomach, cushioning his chin on top of his folded arms while his messy fringe fall over his forehead. And yes, maybe he's putting a bit of a show for Geralt, so what?
When the other man approaches, he shakes his head at the offered wine and gets on his knees on the bed, wraps his arms around Geralt's shoulders and then pulls him in for another kiss. He can taste the wine in his tongue and it's even sweeter this way. When they part away to breathe, Jaskier looks like the cat who got the cream.
"I'll like that very much." A warm hand cups Geralt's face for a few seconds, the look on Jaskier's eyes full of warmth and something more he is afraid to put in words.
Jaskier had to have seen something more from the start if he was crazy enough to follow Geralt into danger head first. Even after years of rejection he'd find his way back onto Geralt's path, back into the line of danger and tolerating the witcher's moods. Resiliency is one of Jaskier's strong suits, he'll give him that.
He definitely makes a sight naked and happy on the bed, and Geralt even finds himself smiling before he's effectively tugged into a kiss. The wine is set down on the floor by the bed and the bottle of oil tossed onto the furs so he can use both hands to palm down the man's back and over his ass. A pleased hum is drowned into the kiss and by the time they part Geralt's own gaze has softened with heat, the yellow almost orange in the low lighting.
"Mm, I know it's been a while. I'll go slow." A while for them both. He leans subtly into the touch of Jaskier's palm, seeing the warmth in his gaze. Something more. He holds the gaze a moment or two longer before leaning in to kiss him again, pressing forward on the bed to push them back once more.
That he did, and he's sure it's only a matter of time until more people realize the truth about Witchers and what they do. This one Witcher, at least, one song at time. Sure, they're not always 100% the truth but they serve a purpose and they're entertaining. Not everything had been easy in the past, they had clashes just as much as they got along , and it would be a lie to say that Jaskier wasn't hurt on occasion. But he is right where he wants to be and that's not going to change anytime soon.
Jaskier mewls and gasps when big hands wander over his body, laughing under his breath when a feathery touch over his ribs makes him ticklish. It's so easy to get lost in those gold eyes eyes.
"It's been a long while, yes." He might have a collection of past lovers but he didn't trust many men with his body, no with the same amount of faith and devotion he shares with Geralt.
"Please..." Jaskier moans after the kiss, leaning further back on the bed and spreading his legs wider to welcome Geralt between them, reaching out to urge him closer. His body is already alight, cock curving over his lower belly. "Think about how nice my leg would look over your shoulder."
The bard starts, shameless because a tiger can't change its stripes and he likes being playful in bed. He follows the suggestion by running a hand over Geralt's right bicep, nails digging a little into the skin to add an edge and see what it does to Geralt.
The sweet playfulness paired with the edge of nails, a lewd suggestion, draw Geralt even closer to the other man. He leans over him with an urgent press of hands beneath Jaskier's thighs, urging them wider apart as he settles between them.
"I intend to have both over my shoulders, not only one," he replies, leaning down to kiss over Jaskier's chest and reach for the bottle of oil he'd tossed onto the bed. The scent is potent for his nose but not enough to bother him, and he's quick to get his fingers slick already.
The oil is warmer when he sneaks his hand between them and down toward Jaskier's entrance, careful to press and rub at the sensitive area. He only adds enough pressure to spread the slickness for now, until he's gauged enough of a warning to slowly press in a finger. The heat and tightness make him inhale sharply already but Geralt reins in his own excitement for the sake of making sure Jaskier isn't uncomfortable.
"If it's too much, you need to tell me." A strict and serious suggestion, eyes glancing up to Jaskier again as the finger presses in deeper, longer, until he's buried to the knuckle and slides out again, repeating the motion until he feels less of a resistance.
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
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Now here they are, tangled up in one another and Geralt ready to give Jaskier whatever he needs. Lips part with that leg at his hip and Geralt's belly squirms with delight at the way Jaskier pleads, the way he sounds and looks beneath him like this.
"I know," he states simply, offering another grind of his hip and upper thigh against the man's cock, mouth lowering to kiss down his jaw and neck. His next words are just as simple: "Roll over."
As in, on his stomach. Geralt has a very specific plan, see, and he makes his intentions clear with another rock against Jaskier's hardness, before he's forcing his hips away so the bard can move.
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Jaskier hisses after the last grind of Geralt's hips when the man moves away. The words come out a cross between Geralt's name, a whimper and more pleas, screwing his eyes shut for a second. Jaskier was enjoying the kisses to his neck a bit too much, wondering if Geralt could leave some marks.
He obeys the command without thinking much of it, blinking is slight confusion but turning to lie on his belly. Geralt rarely asks for anything and Jaskier would trust his life, so Geralt is treated to the view of the muscles of his back and the curve of his ass, pale skin on display, scattered with light freckles here and there. Jaskier looks at him over his shoulders with big eyes, a silent question about what is the other planning to do.
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One hand skims up the back of a thigh and he urges Jaskier's legs open, to spread out where he's lying. Geralt then leans in to start trailing kisses from the nape of his neck downward, taking his sweet time to revel in the way certain touches make the other shiver or squirm, or the soft breaths that catch in his throat.
"Just relax," he comments after that silent question aimed his way, lips pausing over the swell of his rear to slide his hand up from his thigh and over a cheek. Geralt hums quietly, kisses trailing further down over freckles and smooth skin until his hands knead at his partner's ass, tongue slowly working its way in between to sensitive skin.
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He's hyper-aware of everywhere the man is touching him and Jaskier yelps at the feel of hot breath against the curve of his ass and the wetness that follows. He startles just a little, hips twitching, and snaps his head back to stare at Geralt. His mouth opens but no sound comes out of it, and the brunette turn scarlet before closing his mouth again. He's flushed with nervous excitement and arousal and when he lies down on the bed again he's trying to looking everyone but at Geralt's.
"Never done this before." He mumbles, feeling the need to explain his reaction, which he realizes a second later it's stupid because it's probably obvious. He doesn't tell Geralt to stop, just licks his kiss-swollen lips and spreads his legs a little further.
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"Really, I'm the first?" He actually sounds curious and gently presses teeth into the muscle of one cheek, kissing over it soon after. "I haven't done this in at least two decades."
There's his little confession for the night. He may be out of practice but he knows how to run on instinct, and so far they've managed pretty damn well. Legs part further and Geralt's hands grip Jaskier's hips before he presses his mouth lower, tongue sneaking out again to shamelessly lick a stripe up and over his hole. He takes his time but doesn't tease after so long, knowing Jaskier needs relief. His breath is hot against his skin as Geralt works over him with those long, pressing licks, hands kneading him open for his mouth. He's unabashed in the way he takes his time to get Jaskier wet with his tongue, wanting him to relax as much as he can.
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Jaskier is pursing his lips a little at the amused glint he can spot in Geralt golden eyes. He has the right to be surprised every now and then, the bard thinks to himself, the blush on his cheeks only lessening marginally.
"Yes, you are the first." And it's actually kind of a comforting idea, to know there's still something he can give to Geralt and Geralt alone. The man explaining how it's been a while for him brings a shy smile to Jaskier's lips.
The bite tears another low whimper from his throat and he arches his back. He doesn't bother with words anymore, they're too hard to get out, and he knows Geralt will always take care of his comfort and pleasure. Jaskier rests his cheek on sheets under him and lets himself feel, his hands gripping at the fabric. It's new and different and it's been a long while he's felt untouched in some way.
Geralt's tongue on him is hot and slick against the sensitive flesh and Jaskier groans deep in his chest, throbbing between his thighs and leaving a mess of pre-come under him. His thighs tense and release until they’re shaking and he finds himself pushing back into the heat of Geralt's tongue mouth and the pressure of his mouth. "F-fuck...oh, fuck, Geralt..."
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Humming against the pushing, Geralt only presses forward with more urgency, taking that as a sign for more as he licks over his hole again and again, fingers digging into his flesh. Without warning Geralt flicks the tip of his tongue against him instead, aiming to gently slip inside. The press of a tongue isn't as blunt but he's still careful, testing the waters with another hum, a silent question of whether this is alright.]
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He has Geralt's scent in his nose because the sheets smell like him, Geralt's hands on his thighs, and then Geralt’s tongue is sliding in... and Jaskier's eyes roll into the back of his head. The long whine he lets out it's probably all the answer the Witcher needs, it's a loud and needy agreement to do whatever he wants to the bard's body.
His breath stutter at the feeling and the realization that Geralt's tongue is on his arse, and jesus-fucking-christ, something like this should feel filthy instead of so, so hot and so good. Jaskier's brain short-circuits for a few seconds, his sensitive rim twitching, moaning lowly at the constant barrage of sensation.
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His tongue slips in deeper with each slow thrust, testing his limits as well as Jaskier's patience. The low moans urge Geralt on though and he can't help but hum again, a natural reaction to hearing the other so pleased, wanting to give him whatever pleasure he can manage. The motion of his tongue gains actual rhythm as he begins to fuck him quicker, wet and lewd with the heat of his mouth panting against skin. He'll stop if asked but part of him wonders if he can truly make Jaskier come just with his tongue, continuing on as a hand slides up the back of his thigh with a light scrape of nails.
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"G-Geralt, I...” His voice is small, no less intense for it, and he can't get any more words out. Geralt shifts his grip and scratches him lightly but in his sensitive state, it's enough to undo him. It's like the breath is punched out of him with a groan and the bard can't help the way his eyes flutter shut because fuck, fuck, oh fuck,...
Jaskier hears himself keening. A second later he's biting into his lower lip and trying not to sob as his whole body shakes and falls apart under Geralt's careful ministrations, spilling over the sheets without even being touched. His muscles seize up as the waves wrack through him and then he feels weightless, boneless. His fingers twitch, once, twice, and he releases the sheets he's been gripping so hard they almost got torn.
"Geralt." The brunette looks over his shoulder, cheeks pink and messy hair falling over his forehead and reaches his right hand back towards the wWitcher. He needs the contact, it's all. Needs Geralt to ground him.
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"You didn't even touch yourself," he points out curiously, sounding impressed as he bites gently near Jaskier's shoulder. Geralt opts to lay down beside him but smooths a hand across his back, arm enveloping the man to pull him in close. That look is all the permission he needs.
He's decided he likes seeing Jaskier like this, flush and disheveled, and wants to give him more if he can.
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Geralt lies down next to him and Jaskier doesn't need more prompting, leaning against his chest and sliding a leg between the man's own. His smile widens and he tilts his chin up until his mouth is next to Geralt's ear.
"You're that good." The Witcher doesn't need an ego boost but credit where credit is due. It's been a long while since anybody managed to surprise him in bed in such a pleasurable way. "Thank you."
He happily nuzzles the man, kissing and sucking along his jawline, practically purring. His hands trail over the curve of Geralt's waist, hands curling around the hipbone and then a fingers traces down the 'V' line that leads towards his groin. "Are you okay?"
'Do you want more?' is what the bard is asking. He's tired and a tad sensitive right now but is the good sort of tired and sensitive.
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"I was hoping to fuck you," he admits frankly, though Geralt doesn't make a move quite yet. He knows his own stamina is quite literally inhuman and doesn't want to hurt the other in any way. The average man can't exactly continue on and on for the rest of the night. "But I'm also fine like this."
Which is the truth. He can rest here and enjoy touch as much as anything further. Jaskier's practically glowing beside him and it's a refreshing sight after a long day.
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Jaskier's lips curls into a grin against Geralt's skin at the ass squeeze, his eyes soft as he leans back a little to better look at the other man. This is one of the things he likes the most about Geralt. He doesn't beat around the bush, plays tricks and games, lies about what he thinks and what he wants. Honesty is so rare nowadays that it melts the bard's heart.
"A very tempting offer. Doable. Just give me a few minutes?" The last question comes out a little apologetic, even if Geralt assured him it was fine to not do more than cuddle. He doesn't have a Witcher's stamina and Jaskier knows his limits but he isn't done with Geralt, no by a long shot. The brunette lazily traces the shape of a scar, feeling the smooth skin against his finger.
"We can still start and I'm sure my body will catch up in no time. You're hot as a furnace." Jaskier grins. If the brunette's tone is any indication, he doesn't have a problem with it. "I bet your cock will feel wonderful inside me."
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Have been. For a long time.
"Have you thought of it often?" He asks both to tease but also genuinely curious. Geralt meets that grin with a softer smile of his own, though the look in his eyes is more wicked. "Before you finally kissed me?"
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His eyes fall closed for a second and the bard sighs in delight. The hands kneading at his ass make him squirm and then press back against the touches, almost inviting Geralt to brush a finger between his cheeks. The Witcher is right in the realization that they had been trying and failing to hold back for a while now.
"About your gorgeous dick in particular or about us together in general? Nevermind, the answer is yes to both." Jaskier's eyes fall to Geralt's chest, averting the piercing golden ones even if the man is smiling at him quite endearingly, a flush creeping up to his cheekbones that has nothing to with this recent release.
"I'm sure you remember Princess Pavetta's betrothal. Before things started to turn weird, you came to my rescue...you were making fun of me, calling me a eunuch, you sly bastard. But it was also the first time you ever smiled at me, amused and teasing. I didn't immediately realize it but I think I knew it right there because I kept thinking about that look."
And isn't that pathetic? It's been more than a decade and he would have taken those feelings to his grave if it weren't for the snowstorm.
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Geralt is happy to continue touching on the man as he speaks, noting the blush on his cheeks and the way his gaze shies away. It's sweet in a way Geralt never thought he'd think of when it comes to Jaskier. Usually the bard is far bolder and more outspoken, but to see him in these softer moments is also quite nice.
"That's... very specific," he comments quietly, though his tone isn't judgmental one way or another, more curious. Hands continue to pet over Jaskier's lovely bottom as he speaks, one shifting to his thigh to urge it over his own, giving him better access to rub down between his cheeks. He's still a little wet from how openly Geralt's mouth had been working on him. "And a long time ago. How did I not notice sooner?"
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"You can be really dumb." Jaskier says, matter-of-factly, as if he's talking about the weather and not insulting a Witcher to his face. It's a joke, of course, he can't keep his face straight face straight and a grin breaks out. "Nah, I tried to keep that to myself, it seemed safer. I never thought you would be interested."
'Why would someone like you look at me twice?', is what he doesn't say. Jaskier might boast about his talents but he knows he isn't special. He's just mortal. Weak. Nothing magic or noteworthy about him aside from his voice and Geralt doesn't even like his singing. Fortunately, the man seems to like other things about him, enough to keep him around.
Jaskier wraps his thigh over Geralt's more muscular one after little prompting, hips canting and leaving himself open and exposed. His breath hitches when the rough pad of a finger catches on the rim and he presses back against the drag with only the smallest of body trembles. It feels nice, he's just very sensitive still. The younger man wonders about how it would be to have Geralt fuck him like that when he's still raw and tender.
"Geralt..."
y-you saw nothing
Geralt is slow and methodicial with his touches now that they've taken care of the heat of desperation, and neither of them are dying to find relief. He likes being able to slow down and take in the softer moments, to really see the subtle ways Jaskier shifts or shivers from his touch.
"We need one of those bath oils you're so fond of," he points out while fingers continue to tease with the slow, rubbing motions. Jaskier's body isn't like a woman's after all and Geralt has had enough experience to know what they're both thinking of is more delicate business. Pressing a little harder, he keeps the focus on the rougher pads of his fingers. "Think you can manage to be apart for ten seconds to find one?"
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"You need to look at yourself in the mirror more often, handsome." A soft kiss is placed on Geralt's mouth, only a press of lips, and he might feel Jaskier smiling against him.
The bard knows that a lot of people can't see past the white hair and the intense eyes, the intimidatingly strong body and Geralt's occasionally curt demeanor. But is their loss, they never bother getting to actually know the man behind all that. The eyes are a beautiful color, in Jaskier's opinion, and they can look at people with kindness. Geralt's strength, he uses it to protect. To fight for the weak rather than to harm, unless he has to. As for the silent character tendencies, well..no one was perfect.
Jaskier rests his forehead against Geralt's broad chest after that, back arching and moaning softly. It's a different kind of exciting to know they have time to explore each other body, at an unhurried pace, to memorize every scar and soft curve. The brunette makes small, little whimpers and moans at the sensations until Geralt speaks up again.
"No." It comes quickly, petulant and dramatic as if the Witcher moving away from him is the worst betrayal unimaginable. Jaskier hisses at the delicious intrusion Geralt's finger when it presses deeper against him. In retaliation he bites at the man's pectoral, blunt teeth not causing any damage, and then looks up, brushing their nose together. "But I'll deal. Make it quickly or I'll start without you."
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"Hmmm..." he hums into the kiss, looking up at Jaskier and finding that warm blue. Have the bard's eyes always been so bright? "As long as you like what you see."
He doesn't need to appreciate his own body after all.
The soft bite earns a chuckle and Geralt pats Jaskier on the butt for good measure before rolling away from under him, standing with a stretch. He crosses the room naked to the tub where Jaskier's little bottles of choice are laid out, sniffing one by one until he finds what's the least offensive to his sensitive nose. Something warm like sugary vanilla works for him... though now he won't be able to take a bath without thinking about fucking the bard.
He can live with that.
He grabs a pitcher of wine on his way back to the bed, taking a drink as Geralt approaches with a kneel and offers some to Jaskier too. His eyes are hungry as he looks him over. "I want to see you when I fuck you."
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"I like more than what I can see. You, silly wolf." Geralt has a good heart, is the sexiest thing about him. He cares and he's honorable, even if he might insist that Witchers don't have emotions. Bollocks to that, Jaskier thinks.
A startled squeak escapes him when Geralt pats his arse and then Jaskier laughs and watches him move away. At least he gets a good look at that wonderful ass, when Geralt turns he will surely notice the younger man ogling him with a grin on his face. Jaskier stretches like a cat on the bed, on his stomach, cushioning his chin on top of his folded arms while his messy fringe fall over his forehead. And yes, maybe he's putting a bit of a show for Geralt, so what?
When the other man approaches, he shakes his head at the offered wine and gets on his knees on the bed, wraps his arms around Geralt's shoulders and then pulls him in for another kiss. He can taste the wine in his tongue and it's even sweeter this way. When they part away to breathe, Jaskier looks like the cat who got the cream.
"I'll like that very much." A warm hand cups Geralt's face for a few seconds, the look on Jaskier's eyes full of warmth and something more he is afraid to put in words.
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He definitely makes a sight naked and happy on the bed, and Geralt even finds himself smiling before he's effectively tugged into a kiss. The wine is set down on the floor by the bed and the bottle of oil tossed onto the furs so he can use both hands to palm down the man's back and over his ass. A pleased hum is drowned into the kiss and by the time they part Geralt's own gaze has softened with heat, the yellow almost orange in the low lighting.
"Mm, I know it's been a while. I'll go slow." A while for them both. He leans subtly into the touch of Jaskier's palm, seeing the warmth in his gaze. Something more. He holds the gaze a moment or two longer before leaning in to kiss him again, pressing forward on the bed to push them back once more.
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Jaskier mewls and gasps when big hands wander over his body, laughing under his breath when a feathery touch over his ribs makes him ticklish. It's so easy to get lost in those gold eyes eyes.
"It's been a long while, yes." He might have a collection of past lovers but he didn't trust many men with his body, no with the same amount of faith and devotion he shares with Geralt.
"Please..." Jaskier moans after the kiss, leaning further back on the bed and spreading his legs wider to welcome Geralt between them, reaching out to urge him closer. His body is already alight, cock curving over his lower belly. "Think about how nice my leg would look over your shoulder."
The bard starts, shameless because a tiger can't change its stripes and he likes being playful in bed. He follows the suggestion by running a hand over Geralt's right bicep, nails digging a little into the skin to add an edge and see what it does to Geralt.
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"I intend to have both over my shoulders, not only one," he replies, leaning down to kiss over Jaskier's chest and reach for the bottle of oil he'd tossed onto the bed. The scent is potent for his nose but not enough to bother him, and he's quick to get his fingers slick already.
The oil is warmer when he sneaks his hand between them and down toward Jaskier's entrance, careful to press and rub at the sensitive area. He only adds enough pressure to spread the slickness for now, until he's gauged enough of a warning to slowly press in a finger. The heat and tightness make him inhale sharply already but Geralt reins in his own excitement for the sake of making sure Jaskier isn't uncomfortable.
"If it's too much, you need to tell me." A strict and serious suggestion, eyes glancing up to Jaskier again as the finger presses in deeper, longer, until he's buried to the knuckle and slides out again, repeating the motion until he feels less of a resistance.
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