[Geralt found the humming Jaskier sometimes did without realizing it annoying at first, but now it's grown on him. There has been many a time recently when the bard's used his chest as a pillow and he can hear him humming even in his sleep. It's become a sound that is strangely comforting, almost as much as the steady heartbeat, and while Geralt still doesn't sleep much or well, it allows him to rest without sleeping.
As soon as Geralt says the words he can almost immediately see their impact, as if he'd struct Jaskier straight across the face. Or punched him in the stomach, which he did once long ago, but hasn't since. He is not typically aware that words can be as vicious as blows, and often he can use them precisely that way, as sharply as a blade. At first he thinks it is merely a sting, but he can tell from his stiff reaction to Geralt's fingers on his back it's not that simple.
Regret is something he tries to pure from his life, and doing that is far easier when he's alone and no one counts on him. He rubs the bridge of his nose when Jaskier says that.] Fuck. [He mutters distinctly and with feeling. Geralt knows he's wounded him, and it was intentional, to put distance between them, but he didn't expect to feel this strange heavyweight in the pit of his stomach. It would be so easy to use this moment to end it. They would both hate it and be awkward, perhaps need to take time apart, but long term it was wisest. But he knew he wouldn't even make into town before dragging the bard into his arms for a kiss. This has spiraled out of his control.
Geralt respects whores, he trusts them with his body and needs more than individual people most of the time. But he still doesn't like the idea of Jaskier feeling like one, or like entertainment. Geralt isn't good at comfort and he is flat out incapable of apologies, at least so far in his long stubborn life. Say it's over. End it. End it now. Instead Geralt sits up and he puts a firm arm around Jaskier's shoulders. He tugs the bard back so he can lean against his chest, and it's not exactly gentle or soft, but it is solid and well-meant.]
Entertainment is not what witchers are for, and I still give that to you freely, Jaskier. [He gives him his body and his trust and that is more than many can get. If Jaskier is his entertainment, Geralt is the same way, that is what he wants to be communicated. It is not him taking and using. It is both ways. Geralt kisses his neck, thinking he really does have to stop marking him, it's part of the problem. That won't happen though.] We want one another and we enjoy one another. It is not bad to have that.
[ The swearing makes the younger man jump, not in fear but in surprise. He wouldn't allow himself to ever be afraid of Geralt, yet the man still catches him off guard often. Years of hearing curses and grunts taught Jaskier the difference nuances between 'You've been singing the same song for the last 2 hours as we walk through the forest and I'm about to throw the lute into the first river I see' and 'my enemy will be lucky if they still have any limb attached to their body by the end of the fight'.
This 'Fuck' falls somewhat in the middle. Is the one that means exactly what it says, I fucked up. Jaskier isn't used to hear this one often, even less directed at him. He should resist, keep his distance, shy away from Geralt's arms if such a thing is possible. Jaskier can't bring himself to do it, doesn't want to. Being by Geralt's side had always meant safety and comfort, despite the occasional arguments. Even then, he's learned that the Witcher doesn't really have a cruel bone on his body. He can be a brute in his actions, yes, and even more direct with his words in ways Jaskier will never learn to master no matter how much he studies and sings, but he's never known the man to take pleasure in inflicting pain of any kind.
It's surprisingly easy for Jaskier to lean back and rest against his chest, accepting the offered touches with eyes half-lidden and trying to ignore the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hates himself for it. He expects Geralt to put an end to whatever is going on between them here and now. Instead, he gets some...interesting logic to justify their actions. Geralt must have done some impressive mental gymnastics to land himself into that kind of conclusion. It's kind of endearing, even if Jaskier wants to slap him and scream at his face that NO, he isn't trying to use Geralt in any way. He kind of sees the point of what the other man is trying to say, even if there's no telling for sure if Geralt is really reassuring him or himself.
He can keep things casual, he's done it many times in the past, got himself a reputation for that...but it's more difficult with Geralt. Always had been since the first day they met, so many years ago, in that tavern from Posada. The lips on his neck make Jaskier close his eyes and tilts his head back, brow furrowed slightly even as he leans into the touches and offers more skin to mark.
What if I want to be yours?, lies on the tip of his tongue, the unsaid words leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Melancholy doesn't suit him, it would only make Geralt push him away further, and so he nods and puts a smile on his face. It's performative, and act, maybe a white lie that both need to get moving. He would rather only have one part of Geralt that lose everything they built over the years, no matter how little importance the witcher puts in their (not)friendship. ]
No, It is not bad to have that. [ Jaskier repeats, and only if Geralt realized the truth about his own affirmation, they both would be happier.
And maybe pigs could fly. ]
I understand. [ It comes out softly but it's an honest truth. Jaskier reaches up to brush his fingers along the back of Geralt's hand. He brings it up to his lips a moment later, kisses the man's knuckles. ] I understand.
[Geralt is temperamental and stubborn, angry and frustrated, sarcastic and world-weary, but cruel he is not. It is something he cares about a great deal, not being cruel. The long-lived often are, and while he is generally very good at keeping his feelings to himself, he is determined not to lose sight of people being people and lives not being meaningless. When he makes a mistake, he knows it, and since he can't bring himself to apologize, he tries to apologize in less verbal ways. Such as a soft kiss on Jaskier's shoulder, a pacifying one since the bard finally relaxed back against him.
It is wiser to end it now, but perhaps now that some lines are re-established it will go back to how it should be. They can keep having sex as much as they want, with the awareness that sex and camaraderie are what they share. Both things that Geralt actually likes, so in his mind it is a stellar offer. He keeps pressing his lips against the curve of Jaskier's neck, he can practically hear the bard thinking, but that is fine. He would rather he think than talk; talk would get them into trouble. Thinking and then talking might not. He doesn't mark him, these are (apologetic) signs of affection.
This is very impressive mental gymnastics, yes, but it is how he can rationalize continuing this. If they decided to stop, Geralt would probably disappear on him in the morning. He wouldn't be able to control himself around the bard for a bit, so he would run, as he's prone to do, although he'd claim it wasn't running so much as giving respectful distance. Geralt understands there are emotions involved. He is not an idiot, he is simply picking the denial route until further notice. With Jaskier's taste on his tongue and the reassuring beat of his heart nearby, it's easy to pick that.
He knows that smile is forced but it's not as if he expects Jaskier to sincerely like this when he flat out told Geralt he wanted to be claimed. Gerallt is relieved at the agreement; it's not perfect, but they can get back on track.] Good. [He murmurs close to Jaskier's ear and tilts his head down, tapping Jaskier's chin up so he can take a slow kiss out of him. An agreement sealed with a kiss.] Come lie down. I was rough on you.
[He means physically, not emotionally. Geralt goes onto his back and tugs at Jaskier's arm, not pulling him unwillingly but as a physical request. He likes when the bard puts his head on his chest or in the crook of his arm, it will be easier to protect him this way if he gets in trouble. It doesn't occur to him that Jaskier might not want to go straight to their cuddling considering the lines he was drawing, because Geralt decided the topic was addressed and handled and that was it. For a long-lived relatively intelligent person, he was truly stupid when it came to people.]
I like some of your songs. [See, that was a huge gift, and possibly it came from a guilty place, but Geralt did mean what he said. This conversation started because he snarked about Jaskier's bad music, so it seems fair to soothe over that now, while still not apologizing.]
[ Geralt's kisses feel sweeter now after their clash. Carrot and stick, Jaskier thinks bitterly and arches his back when lips brush the curve of his nape. He's so weak for them still that he makes a small whimpering noise, leaning into the touch. The conversation is over that much is clear. He's feeling wrung out all of sudden, any energy he had left after their lovemaking finally lost him. Jaskier needs to stop thinking about what they do in such terms, it's what landed him in hot water in the first place, setting himself up to disappointment.
Their unspoken arrangement had changed in his mind alone, Geralt can't be blamed for his lack of common sense. He should be the one leaving, try and keep some of his dignity intact while the rest of him isn't. Jaskier has never been able to stay away from long, even those times they parted on agreeable terms to attend their personal affairs. Like a moth to a flame, it was inevitable that he would end burned.
Form now on, he'll still wake up Geralt sitting on his cock, or try to drag the man to a semi-private place to blow him, to kiss him, to show it's all fine. Nothing is different. It's just spectacularly good sex between two willing parties. Rough, exciting and impersonal. He will be more mindful of his words, no longer bring up the stupid, romantic shit he wants to say when Geralt is buried to the hilt inside him and all he can think about is how well they fit together. Jaskier won't bite him either unless the Witcher demands it. Because Geralt isn't his and Geralt made it clear he doesn't want him either. Flimsy preventive measures to keep his heart from breaking when there's already a large crack in it, but it's better than nothing.
And then Geralt is kissing Jaskier with a softness he didn't expect. The tug to his arm isn't demanding and he can read the plea in the gesture. He doesn't make him wait, only pausing for a second or two. Lying down, he soaks in the warmth of Geralt's body, rests his head on the man's chest and blinks back the tears stinging in his eyes after hearing the praise. It's like throwing a bone to a dog after you have kicked the pathetic creature. And Jaskier will take it, of course, hoping there's some measure of honesty in Geralt's voice. It's getting harder every day to look at himself in the mirror. ]
Oh, flattery. Don't let me stop you. [ His index fingers drawn small, odd patterns on Geralt's chest, circles and curvy lines at a slow pace. It feels soothing and it's what he usually does when they cuddle, showing that some things are still the same. Jaskier doesn't really expect Geralt to continue and he doesn't say anything else. He can feel the slow beating of Geralt's heart and the bard closes his eyes, chasing a restless sleep. ]
[The thing is, Geralt knows what they both should do, and also that his kisses and touches are meant to be comforting and it's a rather weak part of him too. He should be cold and impersonal, to keep this more rational. It was him being sentimental and soft that caused this. But it's a part of him he doesn't fully have answers for, that there's this underlining forgive me, stay with me plea under his affection. The bard is too deeply under his skin, he's addicted to their flights of passion.
Tomorrow it will be Geralt instead who wakes Jaskier up, his mouth hot and eager on his cock. To show them both that they can still be this way and he wants it, even if he doesn't want belonging or claiming in the clear sense, he still wants the lust and the connection between them. He relaxes when Jaskier nestles down on him the way he likes, putting an arm around Jaskier's shoulder and carefully lifting a blanket around them. He radiates heat so he doesn't need them, having no real reaction to extreme temperatures, but he likes to keep his partner from a chill.
There is honesty in his tone. Geralt never lies.] I like your instrumentals. You play well. [Geralt doesn't like the singing as much and it isn't personal, as much as it seems. He hasn't listened to many bards that he enjoys, but a lute playing a nice tune appeals to him. He doesn't like listening about himself but sometimes on their journey all Jaskier will do is test out a melody or strum his lute as they walk, and that he truly enjoys.
His voice is soft as he allows Jaskier to touch him and keeps him close, waiting until he hears his breathing slow and his heart steady in sleep. Geralt knows it won't exactly be easy for a bit, but they will carry on and find their equilibrium again. But even if it was harsh, he felt better with a line between them. He pretends it's for Jaskier, but it isn't. It's him. He doesn't find sleep himself that night, ears sharp listening for danger, but he does rest.]
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givingexposition) wrote2020-01-03 11:55 pm
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As soon as Geralt says the words he can almost immediately see their impact, as if he'd struct Jaskier straight across the face. Or punched him in the stomach, which he did once long ago, but hasn't since. He is not typically aware that words can be as vicious as blows, and often he can use them precisely that way, as sharply as a blade. At first he thinks it is merely a sting, but he can tell from his stiff reaction to Geralt's fingers on his back it's not that simple.
Regret is something he tries to pure from his life, and doing that is far easier when he's alone and no one counts on him. He rubs the bridge of his nose when Jaskier says that.] Fuck. [He mutters distinctly and with feeling. Geralt knows he's wounded him, and it was intentional, to put distance between them, but he didn't expect to feel this strange heavyweight in the pit of his stomach. It would be so easy to use this moment to end it. They would both hate it and be awkward, perhaps need to take time apart, but long term it was wisest. But he knew he wouldn't even make into town before dragging the bard into his arms for a kiss. This has spiraled out of his control.
Geralt respects whores, he trusts them with his body and needs more than individual people most of the time. But he still doesn't like the idea of Jaskier feeling like one, or like entertainment. Geralt isn't good at comfort and he is flat out incapable of apologies, at least so far in his long stubborn life. Say it's over. End it. End it now. Instead Geralt sits up and he puts a firm arm around Jaskier's shoulders. He tugs the bard back so he can lean against his chest, and it's not exactly gentle or soft, but it is solid and well-meant.]
Entertainment is not what witchers are for, and I still give that to you freely, Jaskier. [He gives him his body and his trust and that is more than many can get. If Jaskier is his entertainment, Geralt is the same way, that is what he wants to be communicated. It is not him taking and using. It is both ways. Geralt kisses his neck, thinking he really does have to stop marking him, it's part of the problem. That won't happen though.] We want one another and we enjoy one another. It is not bad to have that.
no subject
This 'Fuck' falls somewhat in the middle. Is the one that means exactly what it says, I fucked up. Jaskier isn't used to hear this one often, even less directed at him. He should resist, keep his distance, shy away from Geralt's arms if such a thing is possible. Jaskier can't bring himself to do it, doesn't want to. Being by Geralt's side had always meant safety and comfort, despite the occasional arguments. Even then, he's learned that the Witcher doesn't really have a cruel bone on his body. He can be a brute in his actions, yes, and even more direct with his words in ways Jaskier will never learn to master no matter how much he studies and sings, but he's never known the man to take pleasure in inflicting pain of any kind.
It's surprisingly easy for Jaskier to lean back and rest against his chest, accepting the offered touches with eyes half-lidden and trying to ignore the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hates himself for it. He expects Geralt to put an end to whatever is going on between them here and now. Instead, he gets some...interesting logic to justify their actions. Geralt must have done some impressive mental gymnastics to land himself into that kind of conclusion. It's kind of endearing, even if Jaskier wants to slap him and scream at his face that NO, he isn't trying to use Geralt in any way. He kind of sees the point of what the other man is trying to say, even if there's no telling for sure if Geralt is really reassuring him or himself.
He can keep things casual, he's done it many times in the past, got himself a reputation for that...but it's more difficult with Geralt. Always had been since the first day they met, so many years ago, in that tavern from Posada. The lips on his neck make Jaskier close his eyes and tilts his head back, brow furrowed slightly even as he leans into the touches and offers more skin to mark.
What if I want to be yours?, lies on the tip of his tongue, the unsaid words leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Melancholy doesn't suit him, it would only make Geralt push him away further, and so he nods and puts a smile on his face. It's performative, and act, maybe a white lie that both need to get moving. He would rather only have one part of Geralt that lose everything they built over the years, no matter how little importance the witcher puts in their (not)friendship. ]
No, It is not bad to have that. [ Jaskier repeats, and only if Geralt realized the truth about his own affirmation, they both would be happier.
And maybe pigs could fly. ]
I understand. [ It comes out softly but it's an honest truth. Jaskier reaches up to brush his fingers along the back of Geralt's hand. He brings it up to his lips a moment later, kisses the man's knuckles. ] I understand.
no subject
It is wiser to end it now, but perhaps now that some lines are re-established it will go back to how it should be. They can keep having sex as much as they want, with the awareness that sex and camaraderie are what they share. Both things that Geralt actually likes, so in his mind it is a stellar offer. He keeps pressing his lips against the curve of Jaskier's neck, he can practically hear the bard thinking, but that is fine. He would rather he think than talk; talk would get them into trouble. Thinking and then talking might not. He doesn't mark him, these are (apologetic) signs of affection.
This is very impressive mental gymnastics, yes, but it is how he can rationalize continuing this. If they decided to stop, Geralt would probably disappear on him in the morning. He wouldn't be able to control himself around the bard for a bit, so he would run, as he's prone to do, although he'd claim it wasn't running so much as giving respectful distance. Geralt understands there are emotions involved. He is not an idiot, he is simply picking the denial route until further notice. With Jaskier's taste on his tongue and the reassuring beat of his heart nearby, it's easy to pick that.
He knows that smile is forced but it's not as if he expects Jaskier to sincerely like this when he flat out told Geralt he wanted to be claimed. Gerallt is relieved at the agreement; it's not perfect, but they can get back on track.] Good. [He murmurs close to Jaskier's ear and tilts his head down, tapping Jaskier's chin up so he can take a slow kiss out of him. An agreement sealed with a kiss.] Come lie down. I was rough on you.
[He means physically, not emotionally. Geralt goes onto his back and tugs at Jaskier's arm, not pulling him unwillingly but as a physical request. He likes when the bard puts his head on his chest or in the crook of his arm, it will be easier to protect him this way if he gets in trouble. It doesn't occur to him that Jaskier might not want to go straight to their cuddling considering the lines he was drawing, because Geralt decided the topic was addressed and handled and that was it. For a long-lived relatively intelligent person, he was truly stupid when it came to people.]
I like some of your songs. [See, that was a huge gift, and possibly it came from a guilty place, but Geralt did mean what he said. This conversation started because he snarked about Jaskier's bad music, so it seems fair to soothe over that now, while still not apologizing.]
no subject
Their unspoken arrangement had changed in his mind alone, Geralt can't be blamed for his lack of common sense. He should be the one leaving, try and keep some of his dignity intact while the rest of him isn't. Jaskier has never been able to stay away from long, even those times they parted on agreeable terms to attend their personal affairs. Like a moth to a flame, it was inevitable that he would end burned.
Form now on, he'll still wake up Geralt sitting on his cock, or try to drag the man to a semi-private place to blow him, to kiss him, to show it's all fine. Nothing is different. It's just spectacularly good sex between two willing parties. Rough, exciting and impersonal. He will be more mindful of his words, no longer bring up the stupid, romantic shit he wants to say when Geralt is buried to the hilt inside him and all he can think about is how well they fit together. Jaskier won't bite him either unless the Witcher demands it. Because Geralt isn't his and Geralt made it clear he doesn't want him either. Flimsy preventive measures to keep his heart from breaking when there's already a large crack in it, but it's better than nothing.
And then Geralt is kissing Jaskier with a softness he didn't expect. The tug to his arm isn't demanding and he can read the plea in the gesture. He doesn't make him wait, only pausing for a second or two. Lying down, he soaks in the warmth of Geralt's body, rests his head on the man's chest and blinks back the tears stinging in his eyes after hearing the praise. It's like throwing a bone to a dog after you have kicked the pathetic creature. And Jaskier will take it, of course, hoping there's some measure of honesty in Geralt's voice. It's getting harder every day to look at himself in the mirror. ]
Oh, flattery. Don't let me stop you. [ His index fingers drawn small, odd patterns on Geralt's chest, circles and curvy lines at a slow pace. It feels soothing and it's what he usually does when they cuddle, showing that some things are still the same. Jaskier doesn't really expect Geralt to continue and he doesn't say anything else. He can feel the slow beating of Geralt's heart and the bard closes his eyes, chasing a restless sleep. ]
no subject
Tomorrow it will be Geralt instead who wakes Jaskier up, his mouth hot and eager on his cock. To show them both that they can still be this way and he wants it, even if he doesn't want belonging or claiming in the clear sense, he still wants the lust and the connection between them. He relaxes when Jaskier nestles down on him the way he likes, putting an arm around Jaskier's shoulder and carefully lifting a blanket around them. He radiates heat so he doesn't need them, having no real reaction to extreme temperatures, but he likes to keep his partner from a chill.
There is honesty in his tone. Geralt never lies.] I like your instrumentals. You play well. [Geralt doesn't like the singing as much and it isn't personal, as much as it seems. He hasn't listened to many bards that he enjoys, but a lute playing a nice tune appeals to him. He doesn't like listening about himself but sometimes on their journey all Jaskier will do is test out a melody or strum his lute as they walk, and that he truly enjoys.
His voice is soft as he allows Jaskier to touch him and keeps him close, waiting until he hears his breathing slow and his heart steady in sleep. Geralt knows it won't exactly be easy for a bit, but they will carry on and find their equilibrium again. But even if it was harsh, he felt better with a line between them. He pretends it's for Jaskier, but it isn't. It's him. He doesn't find sleep himself that night, ears sharp listening for danger, but he does rest.]