#captain jaskier

Geralt gave his lover and commanding officer a toothy grin. 

“Will you pin my hair up all fancy and make me dress in silk?”

“Probably.”

“Alright, I’ll do it. But,” and the Witcher leaned close to whisper roughly into Jaskier’s ear, “You’d better really spoil me afterwards, my Captain. You know how much I hate getting fancy.”

“You will be spoiled absolutely rotten, my love; I wouldn’t dream of having it any other way.” The pirate turned and headed for the galley with a new spring in his step. “I’ll have Cookson draw up a cauldron of water for a nice warm bath!”

“Wait, when is this meeting?”

“Tomorrow,” Jaskier paused his escape to wink, much less nervous now that Geralt had agreed to his proposal. “And there isn’t much time to prepare! I want to get the good hunting grounds back this year; that horrible Valdo Marx got them last year and I’m tired of coming in second to him. We could be pulling much larger prizes than we have been lately.”

“Captain,” Geralt laughed brightly, a deep and rumbling sound that never failed to send a happy shiver down Jaskier’s spine. “Am I to be an intimidation tactic as well as a status symbol?”

Jaskier returned to his Witcher’s side and took his hand again, offering a sheepish smile. “I love you?”

“If I didn’t love it when you played with my hair and treated me like a treasure this would be a much harder job,” the Witcher said, leaning to press a gentle kiss to the skin below Jaskier’s ear. “But I love you, too, so… make me your pretty captive Witcher, sir.”

Jaskier bit his lip, his pupils dilating slightly. “You’re a horrible tease, my pet.”

---

“You should let me carry you into the meeting room,” Geralt nodded, gesturing towards the thick oak door at the back of the seedy Temerian tavern. “It’ll look very impressive.”

“You have the best ideas, love,” Jaskier grinned. He pressed a quick kiss to Geralt’s cheek and allowed himself to be scooped into a pair of strong, steady arms. The Witcher-turned-pirate was dressed as finely as Jaskier could manage, with a blue silk tunic and the nicest pair of high-waisted black leather trousers that money could buy. The Captain had braided his white hair back with several elaborate twists before securing it with the gifted silver clip. Geralt had even allowed the young, overeager man to line his golden eyes and drape him in bracelets and rings. “Alright. Let’s get this over with, my sweet.”

---

Jaskier’s hand left Geralt’s long white hair only long enough to make a rude gesture in another Captain’s direction, “It’s high time we got a chance to rotate through the eastern waters,” he argued. “Valdo’s had them the last two years!”

“Captain Jaskier makes a fair point,” another Captain agreed. “It’s time to rotate. I vote we all take a turn about this year, and move over by halves.”

“That puts us in fishing territory only,” a third Captain spoke up. Geralt was purring quietly, his Captain perched on his lap and his eyes half-lidded. He was doing his best to look both intimidating and rightfully docile beneath his lover’s hands. 

“If I took the eastern waters this year,” Jaskier offered, “You could join me every other week and pick up larger prizes. If we stay on opposite sides we shouldn’t run into any trouble.”

“You’d be willing to do that?” the other man asked. Jaskier nodded and offered his hand to shake.

“Absolutely, dear friend. It wouldn’t be very becoming of me to keep such a rich area all to myself.”

Captain Marx of the Broken Lyre began to protest before Triss, the Council Leader and a retired pirate herself, raised her hand for silence.

“The deal is this,” she said, casting a firm glare around the room that brokered no argument, “Jaskier and O’Malley can have the east if they want to share. Marx, you have the north.”

“Fine,” Marx grumbled. 

---

“Is he...is that the White Wolf?” Captain Marx asked. He’d made a beeline for Jaskier as soon as the meeting was adjourned. 

“Aye,” Geralt rumbled. “That I am.”

“Shit, Jaskier,” he laughed. “How’d you manage?”

“Ask him,” the other Captain shrugged. “Geralt is his own person.”

“Why stay with someone so skinny and awkward,” Marx asked, turning his attention to the Witcher without a second glance at Jaskier’s shocked expression, “When you could come aboard the Lyre and spend your days with someone who understands what a real man truly needs?”

“Hmm,” Geralt let his eyes roam up and down Valdo’s figure before he smirked and nuzzled against Jaskier’s neck, “I only submit to met who can prove they’re worth my time. You don’t quite seem to match that criteria, Captain Marx.”

The Pirate of Cidaris gasped and clutched at his chest in dramatized offense. 

“Jaskier! Get ahold of your pet Witcher and his unruly tongue at once!”

“If there’s one thing I know about my darling White Wolf,” Jaskier grinned as Geralt kissed and nibbled a little trail across his shoulder. “It’s that he’s an excellent judge of character and he will say whatever he pleases. I can’t tame such beauty, Valdo, it would be a sin against nature.”

“Smart boy,” Jaskier murmured. The praise warmed Geralt’s chest from the inside out and he unconsciously laid his head against the side of the Captain’s thigh. I’m older than you, he thought. But oh well. Jaskier turned to the crewmen. “What do you think, Peter?”

The red-headed first mate gave his input, half-agreeing with Geralt and half-arguing to still go around the coast. The captive let his mind wander freely, enjoying the sensation of the Captain’s fingers caressing his cheek and the side of his neck where it was exposed. The sword-calloused tips dragged teasingly along his collarbone and Geralt realized, with growing horror, that he was attracted to the young pirate. 

Like very attracted. 

The lad was clever, adventurous, and sweet. He may have been impulsive but he was quick on his feet, dodging in and out of danger with a dancer’s grace. It was absolutely infuriating. “Ah well, I suppose we should take a general vote tomorrow and let the crew decide.”

And he was fair to his crew!

Geralt glowered and Jaskier caught the expression before he could hide it again. “What’s wrong, pet?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Geralt,” he tutted. The sound may have been affectionate but the undercurrent gave no room for argument. Geralt blushed.

“I’d rather speak to you about it in private, if you don’t mind.”

Peter rolled his eyes, motioned for the second mate and boatswain to join him, and headed for the door. “Tomorrow then, Captain.”

“G’night lads.” Jaskier waved them out of the room before turning his attention back to his captive. “What’s wrong, Geralt?”

“There’s nothing wrong per-say it’s just that...I shouldn't like you as much as I do.”

“You like me?” the youthful Captain beamed. “Excellent! I rather like you, too!”

“May I stand?”

“No.” Jaskier smirked and leaned down towards Geralt. His eyes were deep blue and half-lidded. The hand in Geralt’s hair tightened and tilted his head back. The white-haired man felt his breath catch in his throat. His heart, usually slow-beating and constant, felt like a warlord’s drum as it pounded violently in his chest. The Captain’s mouth came dangerously close to Geralt’s ear as he whispered: “I rather like you where you are.”

Much to his embarrassment and Jaskier’s utter joy, Geralt whined. He surged forward, locking his mouth against the juncture between the Captain’s neck and shoulder. Jaskier yanked him back by the hair and frowned. The sharp tug on his scalp sent a bolt of molten something down the captive’s spine. “No, my darling. I’m the Captain. I’ll be doing the plundering and the taking, thank you very much.”

“Aye, Captain,” Geralt nodded as much as he could. 

“Well I’m feeding you, aren’t I?”

Geralt hummed his agreement. He was being fed. Very well. 

“I’ve given you new clothes, washed and braided your unruly mane, and kissed you into silence on several occasions.” The Captain continued. “You belong to me until your debts are paid.”

“They’ll never be paid if I keep eating from the ship’s supply of food.”

“Mhm. Exactly. The thing is, darling, that I wouldn’t mind keeping you like this forever.” Jaskier smirked but his eyes were full of gentle concern and curiosity. “Unless you have any objections to such an arrangement. We’ll be at port in a few days and you’re welcome to leave if you so desire.”

Geralt considered. Nobody he knew was going to suddenly come upon him in the middle of the ocean. If he died in battle here it wouldn’t be much different than dying while fighting a monster. Not to mention that Jaskier’s crew of ruffians and rogues didn’t dare hurl insults or stones at him aboard this vessel. He was rather well-liked, actually. Some of the men came and talked to him whenever he had a moment away from Jaskier’s side (as rare as they were) about everyday things like sword polishing and rope repair. Things Geralt knew and understood. Things he enjoyed talking about. 

“Okay. I’ll stick around a little longer. And since I’m your pet I suppose you’re also allowed to kiss and touch me however you’d like.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I would like that, I think. Just let me know when you’re going to do that stuff, alright?”

“Goody!” the young pirate clapped. “I am amenable to your terms, darling. Now let’s move to the galley for a bit. I need to speak with some of the crew.”

“Hmm.”

“Bring your cushion.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt did as he was told, carrying his assigned pillow from the captain’s cabin to the large galley/dining area. He knelt at Jaskier’s side again and felt those long, calloused fingers start tracing up and down the back of his neck. He shivered visibly and ignored a few strange looks from the men. “Shh, Geralt.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking too loud. Here,” the Captain leaned down for a moment and pressed his lips against his captive’s. He bit the white-haired man’s bottom lip, cupping the base of Geralt’s skull with his hand as he did so. Not only was the older man incapable of moving away from Jaskier’s strong hold on him, but he found that he didn’t really want to move away. He liked the apparent control his Captain liked to exert over him. He liked being told what to do as straightforwardly as possible. The kiss was intense and stole the witcher’s breath away. When Jaskier finally pulled back, Geralt’s golden eyes were glazed over and watery. “That’s much better, precious thing.”

With Jaskier there were no guessing games. No rules that Geralt didn’t understand. The young Captain took what he wanted when he wanted it; even though he was always sure to check with Geralt for permission first. 

The Captain released him from the kiss and turned to speak with the crew members gathered in the galley. The ex-witcher closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of Jaskier’s fingers sliding against his skin wherever they moved. 

“It was given to me as payment for a monster-slaying job,” the once-witcher-now-pirate-captive explained. “I don’t know how to play it.”

“I captured you and brought you aboard because I thought you were a bard,” the Captain laughed. “And now you’re telling me that you’re a witcher?”

The white-haired man nodded solemnly. “Aye.”

The pirate lad laughed brightly. His head was thrown back and his hands rested on his knees as he brayed wildly in amusement. Once he’d calmed down and wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes he sighed. “Ah, shit. Oh well. At least you’re still incredibly pretty. Knowing you can fight means you have to pitch in now, though. I’ll get you a sword and next time we go in for a prize you’ll get put to work properly.”

“I’m not a pirate,” Geralt frowned. 

“Then what are you, then? My pet?” He giggled again at the offended look on Geralt’s face. “You can either accept that you’re my pet witcher for the moment and live a life of spoiled luxury or you join my crew as a pirate until we can go safely ashore again. What’ll it be, good sir?”

The witcher weighed his options. He wouldn’t mind fighting outside the confines of the law for once. He wouldn’t mind being petted and looked after by the Captain. He wouldn’t mind staying more permanently all things considered.

He sighed in acceptance and leaned his head against Jaskier’s thigh once again. The younger man was full of energy and kindness and his presence seemed so soothe something primal and animalistic in Geralt. The man made him feel almost submissive. Like he was born to take the Captain’s orders. He tried not to think about it, but the idea flashed to the front of his mind every time Jaskier showed him the tiniest bit of affection or attention.

Like now, as the brunette man beamed and ran his hand through his captive’s white hair. “Precious witcher,” the pirate smiled. “What a lucky man I am to have captured you. I might have to keep you here forever. You do look so lovely kneeling like this for me.”

The warm feeling from before came tumbling back, slamming into Geralt and holding him steady simultaneously. His eyelids fluttered closed as Jaskier’s fingers moved from his hair down to the laces of his shirt, slipping underneath and playing with the soft white chest hair that grew there. Geralt squirmed but stayed silent as the Captain finished his log entry. He’d get the younger man’s full attention soon enough.