It took Jaskier approximately ten seconds to realize that he wanted the Witcher’s cock inside him. For one thing, it was big. Jaskier knew it without sparing more than a quick, secretive glance down between the Witcher’s legs. Oh yes, it was big, and what’s more, it matched the rest of him. Big, thick muscular arms and legs as big as tree trunks, and that arse. You could bounce a ducat off that thing.
The most alluring thing about Geralt of Rivia, though, was his aloofness. From the moment he spied him in that tavern, sitting alone and looking so brooding and manly, it became Jaskier’s mission to bed the White Wolf. Like forbidden fruit, Geralt was a master of playing hard to get. Half the time he seemed to loathe Jaskier’s very existence, but no matter what Geralt said, Jaskier couldn’t keep away.
It helped that Geralt had never really tried that hard to make Jaskier go away, either. Sure, he told him to shut up more often than not. He also tried to convince Jaskier that it was too dangerous to follow him around on hunts. If he had really wanted Jaskier to stay away, surely he could have made it happen though.
There were also a few times when Jaskier thought he saw a familiar hunger flicker in Geralt's eyes. It’s possible he imagined it, but it was enough for him to keep following the White Wolf around like some kind of lovesick school boy.
There was something that held Jaskier back from telling Geralt of his desires. It wasn’t that he worried Geralt didn’t go for men. He knew he did from their various trips to local brothels. Geralt wasn't shy or ashamed of it either. The issue was that Jaskier was a little bit different from most men. Not in any way that mattered, just that he didn’t have the same equipment.
It wasn’t like he thought Geralt would care, but he worried that it would change the way Geralt treated him. Being a pain in the arse and having Geralt get angry at him was almost a point of pride for Jaskier. Geralt didn't react the same way around women. Not the way he did with Jaskier. If Geralt knew that Jaskier was not, according to the cruel laws of nature, a real man, then it could ruin everything.
So Jaskier kept his desires to himself, waiting for the right moment, if such a moment existed.
It’s at the banquet in Cintra that Jaskier cracked. Geralt saved him from the wrath of a particularly detail-oriented lord, but the comment about his balls stung. Not just because an ox had kicked them in, either. Jaskier wanted to tell Geralt, almost did, but things went tits up very quickly after that. Such is the way of things when nobles and magic and surprises are involved.
Back at the inn that night, Geralt looked like he couldn’t shed his party clothes fast enough. He was on edge, that much was obvious from the way he clenched and unclenched his fists.
“So...does this make you a father then? Or maybe more of a distant uncle? Uncle Geralt has a fun ring to it, actually, and-”
“Shut up Jaskier.”
Ah, there it was. When Jaskier looked over, Geralt was staring into the hearth where the fire crackled and popped. He was standing in his underclothes, and he was beautiful. Geralt must have felt him staring, because he tore his gaze from the fire and looked at Jaskier.
...and for whatever reason, Jaskier’s brain decided that the right moment was now.
Never let it be said that Jaskier was a man of logic or reason.
“Geralt?” Jaskier said, quieter than before.
Geralt didn’t answer, but his eyes said what Jaskier needed to hear. Jaskier crossed the room, quickly closing the distance between himself and the larger man. The much, much larger man. He stopped short of running into Geralt and tilted his head back to look up at him.
Jaskier put his hands on Geralt’s broad shoulders and lifted himself up until their lips were almost touching. Jaskier watched as Geralt’s pupils dilated, yellow receding until it was only a thin ring around a pool of black.
“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll back off,” he whispered, breath hot against Geralt’s lips.
“Jaskier…” Geralt said again, and Jaskier could feel the rumble in his chest and oh he could melt. He did not have time for Geralt’s hesitance though, not now.
“Geralt, I have wanted you from the moment you sat moping in that tiny tavern and, without being too arrogant, I think you want me too.”
“If you don’t that’s fine, really, but I’m tired of pretending and I know that this is probably a bad time and-”
“All I ask is that you please don’t get mad and hit me or something because really that’s immature and-”
Geralt closed the gap between their mouths and in that moment Jaskier knew he was well and truly fucked. Rough, chapped lips scraped against his own, stubble prickled at his chin, but Geralt was so gentle. His lips pressed against Jaskier’s, tasting of wine and a hint of salt. His hands cradled Jaskier’s face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. It was all too much and not enough that Jaskier could only whine softly against the taller man.
“Something wrong?” Geralt rumbled against his lips. Jaskier felt him pull away enough to give them room to breathe, forcing another small whine from his throat.
“Yes, actually,” he murmured before he could stop himself. Geralt started to pull away completely and Jaskier quickly wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck.
“Not with you! Never with you. It’s...alright so...that comment you made at the banquet tonight? The thing you said to the lord?”
“About the ox?”
Jaskier narrowed his eyes at Geralt. “Yes. That comment. It hurt.”
“I already told you, I was saving your pimply arse.”
“No, Geralt I mean it hurt because it’s true. Sort of. I don’t have any.”
There was a brief moment of silence. Jaskier’s eyes widened in shock at his own bluntness. Geralt tilted his head and seemed almost confused by his outburst.
“You don’t have any what?”
Gods, for a man so skilled at so many things, he was obscenely dense.
“Balls, Geralt. I haven’t got any balls.”
“Could have fooled me, the way you run your mouth.”
“I mean literally, Geralt. I literally do not have any balls. I don’t have a cock either. I was born...when I was born I was a…” Jaskier couldn’t finish the sentence. His throat had gone numb, like something thick was stuck inside it. He wished that were the case. It would be a lot better than staring down at the ground, trying to fight the angry tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.
It wasn’t even that Jaskier was particularly ashamed of the body he’d been born with. Was it ideal? No, of course not, but he would rather make do with what he had than go around lamenting the curse of his own birth. Jaskier simply didn’t want to ruin the tenuous balance of his and Geralt’s friendship by making Geralt think he was weak because he “wasn’t really a man.”
The silence was thick and heavy between them and Jaskier was still holding tightly to Geralt’s shoulders. It occurred to him far later than it should have that the Witcher had not pulled away from him.
“I know, Jaskier.”
Jaskier froze, mind racing as he tried to figure out when Geralt could have seen the truth. Geralt wasn’t shy about his own nudity, but Jaskier always took care to avoid undressing when he was around. He trained his voice for years so that he could talk and sing at a lower register than his natural pitch. He kept his hair short, he did everything, how could Geralt know?
“I’ve known for a long time Jaskier. Your...hm…” Geralt paused and looked uncomfortable, like he wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say. “Your um, scent is...different...at times.”
“What on Earth are you talking about Geralt? How is my scent ‘sometimes’ different? I don’t do anything different...oh.” It clicked into place then. “Well, that’s...hm. I guess I should have figured I couldn’t really hide that. To be fair, most people don’t quite have the nose that you do, and my oils are usually enough to cover it up.”
“So you’ve known and you ...you never said anything?”
“Wasn’t my business.”
“And you don’t care? I mean, all this time I was hiding it because I thought you might treat me differently.”
“You’re annoying no matter what’s between your legs.”
Jaskier had never been so elated to be called annoying in his entire life. “Oh, Geralt,” he murmured before pressing forward and capturing his wolf’s mouth in another kiss. Tears of relief slid down his cheeks and Geralt stroked them away with the pads of his thumbs.
Geralt pulled away again, a more fond look on his face as he asked, “Why are you crying?”
“I assure you, dear Geralt, these are tears of joy.” Jaskier blinked the last of them away and smiled up at him. “I’m just glad that you’re such a good person.”
“Wouldn’t be too sure of that, bard.”
“Hush. You can pretend to be the big bad wolf all you want, you know I don’t buy it.”
Jaskier watched as Geralt seemed to think for a moment before humming and leaning forward once more. When their lips met this time, it sent heat curling through Jaskier’s belly. While Geralt licked his way into his mouth, Jaskier moaned and reached up to tangle his fingers in Geralt’s thick white hair.
They stayed that way, tongues dancing forward, tasting while hands roamed and pulled. Jaskier said nothing, save for the little moans he couldn’t seem to hold back when Geralt did something particularly delightful. Geralt took Jaskier’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged until it slipped through. The drag of teeth against flesh was positively sinful.
Jaskier finally had to break away and breathe. When he met the Witcher’s gaze, there was a smirk on his face.
“If I’d known this was how to make you be quiet, I would have done it sooner.”
Jaskier opened and closed his mouth a few times in rapid succession. Finally, he scoffed and let go of Geralt’s hair to put his hands on his own hips. “Like you ever would have made the first move, you insufferable oaf. I’ve been making eyes at you ever since we met!” Jaskier paused, stuttering as Geralt’s fingers stroked at the skin above the waistband of his pants. “D-don’t get me wrong, the tension and the pining on my end has made for some very interesting potential ballads, ah, but do you have any idea how agonizing it is to be infatuated with someone as obtuse as you?”
Geralt hummed in response and Jaskier watched with his eyebrows raised as Geralt ducked down. Jaskier felt his large, strong hands slide down until he was at the spot where his thighs met his buttocks. Without warning, Geralt lifted him up like he weighed no more than a doll.
“Geralt!” Jaskier cried out, arms wrapping around Geralt’s neck in surprise.
With Geralt’s guidance, Jaskier spread his legs until he could wrap them around Geralt’s waist. Geralt’s hands went from Jaskier’s thighs to his arse and there they gripped firmly, making him jump. He could feel Geralt’s cock straining against fabric as he pressed himself against Jaskier’s arse, and oh if he was capable of thinking straight he would be celebrating how right he was in estimating Geralt’s size. If anything, he might have underestimated.
“Yes, bard?” Geralt tilted his head and looked at Jaskier.
“Don’t you ‘yes bard’ me. Since when do you feign innocence?”
“Since it’s become even easier to tease you.”
Jaskier pouted for a moment, then grinned and rolled his hips down against Geralt’s cock. The growl that such a movement produced was intoxicating. Jaskier wished it were possible to bottle sounds. If it were, he would capture every rumble from his Witcher and savor them till his dying days.
While Geralt ground their lower halves together, Jaskier kissed along the length of his jaw and down his neck. At a particularly well aimed thrust, Jaskier dropped his head to Geralt’s shoulder and moaned quietly. The drag of cloth against his slick hole combined with the insistent press of the Witcher’s length was agonizing. Jaskier turned enough to get his lips against skin, and there he bit and sucked and marveled at the quiet groans that left Geralt’s throat.
“Geralt, put me down please,” Jaskier murmured against his ear. He wasn’t expecting Geralt to comply so quickly. It was only Geralt’s steady hands at his waist that kept Jaskier from crumpling in on his own jellified legs.
“Did I hurt you?”
Jaskier stared up at Geralt, saw the fierce concern in his eyes as if he was already preparing to apologize and pull away and Jaskier could not have that. Not now, not when he was finally getting what he’d wanted since that day in Posada.
“You could never hurt me Geralt, but I can’t very well suck your cock from up there.”
Before Geralt could utter another word, Jaskier dropped to his knees in front of him. Said knees were not happy about the sudden impact against the wooden floor of the room, but Jaskier was already so far gone he couldn’t care less. He gripped the edge of Geralt’s underclothes and pulled until they were a pool at Geralt’s feet, exposing the Witcher’s already hard cock to the air. Jaskier could see the shiver run through Geralt, but he suspected it wasn't from the cold. Jaskier spared a glance up at him and was pleased to see Geralt’s mouth hanging open, his breath coming out in shallow pants.
Not breaking eye contact, Jaskier leaned forward and licked a long, slow stripe up the underside of Geralt’s thick cock. Geralt tossed his head back and let out a low groan and Jaskier felt a rush of pride at eliciting such a reaction.
“Don’t hold back on me now, Witcher. Let’s see what this sword can do.”
“Why must you say things like tha-Fuck!”
Jaskier closed his lips around the tip of the witcher’s cock and sucked, once. Rough fingers curled in his hair and Jaskier could feel how Geralt had to struggle to keep from pulling Jaskier forward, to lose control and fuck Jaskier’s throat. As much as he wanted that, it would have to wait until another time. Right now he wanted to savor the moment.
The taste of salt and skin were sharp as Jaskier pressed the point of his tongue to the slit. The sharp inhale from above spurred him further, taking more of Geralt into his mouth and moaning around the thick shaft.
Finally, his brain cried, satisfaction and relief rolled into one all consuming thought. He placed his hands on Geralt’s hips and began to bob his head, hollowing his cheeks each time he pulled back. To Jaskier’s private elation, Geralt was surprisingly vocal whilst in the throes of pleasure. It wasn’t much more than grunts and a few sharp hisses when Jaskier’s teeth dragged slightly, but it was perfect. He knew he must look a sight, lips stretched wide around Geralt’s cock, throat stuffed full to the point of almost choking, and every time he slowed down Geralt looked back down at him as if to plead him to go further. It was everything he wanted and more.
Jaskier swallowed once, twice, just to revel in the sensation and the way Geralt’s hips stuttered.
Humming happily, Jaskier pulled off Geralt's cock and leaned into the hand curled in his hair. “Yes?”
“Get up here.”
“You sure you don’t want me to stay down here? From the sound of things you were quite enjoying this position.”
Jaskier grinned as Geralt rolled his eyes. He stood up to meet him in another searing kiss and busied himself with getting rid of his own clothing. His pants and doublet came off easily, but once he was down to his underclothes and shirt he found that his fingers were reluctant to obey his commands. He tugged uselessly at the hem of his shirt, trying to focus on Geralt’s lips against his. He faltered when Geralt's hands closed over his own.
“Just...don’t pay attention to my chest.”
“Do you want to keep your shirt on?”
“No, no I can take it off and it’s not off limits but...it looks different.”
Jaskier wasn’t sure if Geralt understood what he meant, but Geralt nodded and moved his hands to the hem of his shirt.
“May I?” Geralt’s eyes were piercing, honey against sapphire. Jaskier reached out and steadied himself against Geralt’s biceps. He wanted to melt against the larger man. Instead, he nodded slowly and curled his fingers around thick muscle.
Jaskier met Geralt’s lips in a soft kiss, straining to focus on that instead of the rush of air that hit his stomach as Geralt lifted his shirt. Once his shirt could go no further, he broke away and lifted his arms. That split second where the material obscured his vision felt like a lifetime. In that lifetime he imagined a hundred scenarios where Geralt saw his bare chest for what it was and hated him for it.
And then the shirt was gone, and there was Jaskier, bare and vulnerable. He fought the urge to wrap his arms around his chest. The air was cool against the scars and he could feel his nipples stiffen, though whether it was from fear or arousal he couldn’t be sure. His brain screamed at him to protect himself from the inevitable judgement.
All the scars Geralt had on his body were reminders of battles, of monsters that almost killed him but didn’t. Not to mention the other changes to his body that he didn’t have a say in, like his eyes. The scars on Jaskier’s chest were the result of what some would call mutilation, but the difference is that he had wanted it. He’d made a choice, no doubt Geralt would look at him and wonder how someone could choose that.
But when he met Geralt’s gaze, he instead found nothing but that rare fondness that he usually only saw when Geralt thought Jaskier wasn’t looking. His head was tilted slightly and the corner of his mouth was curled up in a half smile.
Jaskier realized that neither of them had said anything for some time and, as usual, decided to break the silence. “I um, I guess you like what you see? Or at least you aren’t mortified by it? I mean I assume you’ve seen more gruesome things, but then again, you never really know.”
Geralt’s furrowed brow made Jaskier’s heart jump. “This isn’t gruesome.”
“Oh. Well...good...I think. No, yes, that is good. Thank you.”
There was a definite smile on the Witcher’s face now.
“Let me guess, shut up?”
Geralt’s only response was to pull Jaskier flush against his chest and kiss him again. The action caught him by surprise and the feeling of bare skin against his own had Jaskier moaning into the kiss.
After that, Jaskier stopped caring about what Geralt was going to think of his body. With their bodies flush against each other, Geralt’s dick was hard and warm against his stomach. That was all the proof he needed that this was okay, that he was okay. He wrapped his hands around Geralt’s biceps once more and spun the Witcher around before dragging him back towards the bed.
The moment Jaskier felt the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, he was falling. He landed against the covers with a soft ‘oof’ and before he had a chance to recover, Geralt was on top of him, mouth hot and hungry against Jaskier’s neck. It was so much but not enough and Jaskier had waited this fucking long to get the Witcher into bed, if he had to wait much longer he was going to actually die.
Jaskier reached down between them, hand brushing over Geralt’s cock on the way to removing the last of his underclothes. He felt the tips of Geralt’s teeth press against his neck and let out a groan. Geralt used one arm to prop himself up while his other hand trailed down to Jaskier’s hip. He helped him shimmy the underclothes down to his ankles and then Jaskier kicked them to the floor.
“Geralt,” Jaskier squirmed underneath the witcher and whined. He needed something, anything to relieve the throbbing between his legs.
Geralt hummed and stood up enough to push Jaskier's legs apart, and then he was kneeling between them. Geralt placed a kiss against Jaskier's thigh, earning a contented sigh. He did this several times, trailing his way up until Jaskier grabbed his hair and held him in place.
“Geralt, you don’t have to do that.”
When Jaskier lifted his head up to look at Geralt, he found the witcher’s golden eyes blown wide with lust.
“Do you not want me to?”
“...I didn’t say that.”
Geralt grabbed Jaskier's hand and looked at him until Jaskier released his hair. He was about to reiterate his point, but then Geralt dove forward and licked a long stripe up his cunt. Any protests died on Jaskier's lips as he felt himself practically melt. It had been a long time since he let anyone do this, and Jaskier was positive Geralt was going to ruin him for anyone else.
Geralt started with firm, flat swipes of his tongue before switching to using the tip to trace shapes around Jaskier’s cock. He could be tracing sigils with that tongue and Jaskier would be none the wiser, all he knew was that he didn’t want it to stop.
“Oh f-fuck, Geralt, please, that’s so good,” Jaskier babbled as Geralt wrapped his lips around his cock and sucked. “So good for me.”
The pressure on his cock increased and Jaskier let out a high pitched moan, hands moving to tangle in Geralt’s soft thick hair. Not to push him away this time, but to insure that Geralt didn't dare stop. Geralt let out a pleased growl and wrapped one hand around Jaskier's hip, holding him in place while he sucked him off.
Jaskier was so focused on Geralt’s mouth that he wasn't expecting Geralt's finger to press inside him. When it did he let out a groan and tried to buck up against the feeling. Geralt holding him down by the hip only made Jaskier wetter.
“Geralt, darling, you’re being so good to me,” Jaskier purred, dragging his nails lightly against Geralt’s scalp and grinning at the hitch in Geralt’s breath.
Jaskier got lost for a while after that, focused only on the sensation of Geralt’s mouth and fingers working their magic on him. He wasn’t speaking, but he wasn’t quiet by any means. He moaned and keened, and when a familiar heat began to pool in his gut, his breathing began to speed up and he began to cant his hips towards Geralt’s fingers.
“Geralt, I’m going to, oh yes just there, just like that, you’re going to make me come!”
Geralt fucked him in earnest now, three fingers pumping in and out accompanied by the dedicated ministrations of Geralt’s lips and tongue.
Jaskier was hanging by a thread as Geralt took him apart. For a moment he feared he wouldn’t reach climax, that he would be stuck on the precipice forever because it was so much but it still wasn’t enough for Jaskier.
“Geralt, fuck, more please I’m so close please.”
Geralt tilted his fingers upwards and rubbed in quick circles against a spot that made Jaskier tighten his thighs around Geralt’s head. He felt so full, so surrounded, so consumed. Finally, Jaskier came screaming Geralt’s name loud enough to wake the whole inn.
Jaskier was floating. The waves of pleasure were slow to subside and his legs felt like thick, heavy jam where they hung off the edge of the bed. He hummed quietly as Geralt grabbed his legs and swung them up onto the bed.
“Hey, handle with care, you brute.”
“Mmm,” Geralt grunted and gestured for Jaskier to move up towards the pillows.
“Even in the middle of sex, you are terrible at conversation. Honestly Geralt, what am I going to do with you?”
“More of this, ideally.”
Jaskier grinned and spread his legs for Geralt as he climbed onto the bed. When Geralt situated himself between his legs, Jaskier took his face in his hands and brought him down into a kiss. He moaned at the taste of himself on Geralt’s lips and let his legs fall to the sides. Their hips slotted together perfectly as Geralt rubbed his cock against Jaskier’s. It bordered on painful with how sensitive he was, but he couldn’t stop from whimpering and moaning into Geralt’s mouth. He couldn’t think anymore, all he knew was Geralt’s body against his own, white hair falling like an elegant curtain around his face.
When Geralt pulled away, Jaskier whined. He whined, for Melitele’s sake, and Geralt just stared down at him with those golden eyes like he found it funny to torture Jaskier and make him suffer.
“Geralt,” Jaskier pleading, shifting his hips to rub up against him. “If you don’t get that beautiful cock inside of me right this second, I am going to- well I’m simply going to die. But first, I’ll make you sleep in the tub.”
Geralt chuckled, and any other time Jaskier would have stopped everything to revel in that sound, so rare it was. He didn’t have time though, because he could feel hardness pressing against and then in his cunt as Geralt slid in. Slow and steady, so careful, eyes watching for any sign of discomfort. Jaskier grabbed Geralt's thick shoulders and clung tightly.
"Keep going, it's alright love," he whispered.
Geralt leaned down and kissed Jaskier as he continued pushing forward. A breathless moan tumbled forth from Jaskier's lips as Geralt finally bottomed out inside him. There was a slight stretch and burn, but Jaskier relished in the sensation and wrapped his legs around Geralt’s waist.
He didn’t urge Geralt to move immediately. Not that he thought he could convince the Witcher to move before he thought Jaskier was ready. After a few moments, Geralt kissed him again, the tip of his tongue dancing against Jaskier’s lips.
Jaskier nodded before leaning up and capturing Geralt’s mouth in another kiss as he began to pull out. When he was almost completely out, he pushed back in, swifter than before.
"Oh god yes," Jaskier moaned. Geralt repeated the motion in a smooth rhythm that made Jaskier dig his fingernails into Geralt’s back.
“Geralt, Geralt, ah, Geralt,” Jaskier couldn’t seem to remember anything but his lover’s name, and with every utterance Geralt seemed to thrust deeper, faster, harder until Jaskier had to brace one arm behind him to avoid smacking his head against the wall. Not that he minded. If anything it just made him more determined to match the roll of his own hips to the intense pace that Geralt set for the two of them.
Geralt himself was just as vocal, breathing sweet nothings into Jaskier’s mouth between kisses as though he was afraid that they’d fly away if they were spoken too loud. Words like gorgeous, beautiful, handsome, pretty and things Jaskier couldn’t make out between Geralt’s own grunts and groans. It was a symphony, greater than any ballad he had ever composed before.
Before long, Jaskier could feel his next orgasm approaching, turning his moans into choked whimpers, half of them Geralt’s name and the other half unintelligible pleas to never stop. The fire built and burned low in his stomach and Jaskier let go of Geralt’s shoulder to reach towards his cock, only for a low growl to come from above him. Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s hand and put it back on his shoulder, then reached down and stroked Jaskier’s cock between two fingers in time with his own thrusts.
The growl alone had been enough to get him there, but Geralt’s fingers on his cock sent Jaskier over the edge and had him coming with a loud moan that practically shook the walls. Geralt’s hips snapped forward faster, his breath coming out in harsh rasps.
“Jaskier,” Geralt’s voice was a deep grumble in his ear. “Close.”
Jaskier understood what Geralt was asking and quickly shook his head. “Not in me, please,” he responded, unlocking his ankles from behind Geralt’s back and letting his legs fall open. Geralt pulled out and Jaskier hissed at the sudden emptiness.
Geralt hovered over him, cock hard and slick in the dim light of the lanterns in the room. He spit into his hand and Jaskier watched with rapt attention as Geralt stroked himself to orgasm. Geralt let out another rumbling groan as he painted Jaskier’s stomach and chest with his release.
When he was finished, Geralt fell to the bed beside Jaskier and moved to drape an arm over him. Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s arm in the air and held it there. “Um, Geralt?”
“Not that I don’t want to cuddle, I obviously do, but shouldn’t we clean this up first?”
Geralt opened one eye and glanced down at his seed covering Jaskier’s torso. He looked back at Jaskier, who simply raised an eyebrow at him and waited.
“I like you smelling like me.”
Jaskier felt something odd stab through his chest, a feeling he wasn’t sure he wanted to name yet. “Geralt that is...very sweet? But I’m not sleeping with dried spunk on my chest. You’re going to have to find other ways to mark your territory, Wolf.”
Geralt growled in his ear and nipped at the shell, sending a shiver down Jaskier’s spine. He did get up and retrieve the wash cloth from the bath though, and once he had wiped them both down, he rejoined Jaskier in bed.
“Much, thank you,” Jaskier replied, quickly curling into Geralt’s embrace and resting his head on Geralt’s chest.
They laid there in silence for a few moments, still coming down from the frenzy of sensations. Jaskier could hear Geralt’s heartbeat, so much slower than his own, but still a steady reassurance that he was there, that Jaskier had him. He wanted to live in this moment for as long as possible, but he could feel the creeping anxiety crawling towards the edges of his mind. Geralt, for all his obliviousness when it came to humans and their feelings, seemed to pick up on it.
“Jaskier, talk to me.”
Jaskier let out a short half-hearted laugh, “Who are you and what have you done with Geralt? He never asks me to talk, much less to him.”
“Alright, alright,” Jaskier let out a sigh and moved until he was lying on top of Geralt, balancing his head on his arms. He felt Geralt’s large hands splayed across his back, fingertips tracing the knobs of his spine. “I just don’t want this to have been some kind of lust frenzy that never happens again or whatever.”
“Then it doesn’t have to be.”
“This wasn’t just about sex for me,” Jaskier continued on as if he hadn’t heard Geralt. “I’ve been pining after you since we first met, and of course it’s partly because you’re so gorgeous it makes me physically ache but it’s also because you are just...extraordinary. I am completely, stupidly enamoured with you.”
Jaskier felt like he was going to throw up. He’d never been this uncertain about confessing his feelings for someone. He loved so often and so deeply that it was bound to not always work out in his favor, and in fact it rarely did, but something about this scared him even more.
“Before you say anything Geralt, I know you said earlier tonight that you want nothing and you need nothing and all that, but I want you to know that I think that’s a hundred percent bullshit.”
“And I know you well enough to know that it’s just...wait, what?”
“It is bullshit.”
“Oh...well, yes, I just said that.”
“Witchers aren’t supposed to want or need,” Geralt said, sliding his hands under Jaskier’s arms and pulling him up until their faces were level with each other. “But it doesn’t mean we don’t. I say those things because people usually don’t care enough to look past them.”
“But I do.”
“But you do.”
Jaskier stared down at Geralt, willing himself not to start crying like a damned baby. “So. Do you...I mean...can this...can we?”
“For as long as you’ll have me.”
Jaskier felt Geralt’s hands on his face and then the Witcher was pulling him down and kissing him deeply. He pulled away after a long moment and smiled.
“Let’s call it forever and a day.”