[ 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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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.]