#geratl

Jaskier trembled against him, tilting his head slightly to allow Geralt better access. The Witcher could hear Jaskier’s pulse, rabbit-quick in his hold. Geralt littered the Bard’s pale skin with purple marks and the sensations shot right through him, making his cock twitch in Geralt’s hand. 

Jaskier could feel Geralt’s erection pressing into his ass and he wriggled slightly, delighting at the noise he pulled from the Witcher.

Geralt pushed Jaskier’s head back onto his shoulder so that he could rest his cheek against the Bard’s jaw line and so that he could watch the rapid rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest as his breathing became uneven.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whimpered, “Please. Please. I need-“

He gasped as Geralt picked up the pace. The Witcher could feel the tension coiling through Jaskier’s muscles and he knew the Bard was close.

Geralt nipped at the base of Jaskier’s ear and twisted his wrist again.

“Fuck!” Jaskier cried out as he came, spilling over Geralt’s hand, arching then collapsing back, shaking as Geralt stroked him through his high. 

The Witcher tucked both arms around him for a moment, just holding him as he regained coherent thought and his breathing evened out. 

“You okay?” he asked softly, carding his fingers through Jaskier’s thick hair.

In response, Jaskier turned himself around in Geralt’s arms and captured the Witcher’s mouth in a wet kiss. 

Geralt groaned when he felt Jaskier breech his lips and swipe the roof of his mouth with his tongue. 

Both Jaskier’s hands came up to caress his face, pulling him closer, and the Bard let out a whine that was needy and wanting. A surge of warmth spread along each nerve and tightened in his gut.

Geralt hoisted him up onto his lap so that Jaskier was now straddling him and he shimmied the Bard’s breeches down so that he could take handfuls of his ass.

Jaskier laughed breathlessly into Geralt’s mouth and rolled his hips down, grinding himself against the bulge in Geralt’s pants. 

Geralt growled at the contact, holding Jaskier by the waist so that he could roll his hips up and rut against the Bard.

Jaskier peppered Geralt’s face and neck with feather light kisses as he trailed his hands down the Witcher’s chest, undoing the clasps of his black, leather jerkin as he went. He made quick work of removing the jerkin and then lifted Geralt’s shirt over his head.

The Witcher growled, tucking his fingers into the hem of Jaskier’s shirt and removing it with just as much enthusiasm, leaving Jaskier breathless with intensity of his amber eyes.

Jaskier placed his hands on Geralt fluttering stomach, watching the way the muscles quivered under his touch, then he slowly trailed his fingers down to Geralt’s crotch. He paused, fingers hovering over the laces of Geralt’s pants and looked into those dark amber eyes.

“Can I?” he blinked, voice husky with lust.

“Can you what?” Geralt smirked at him, rubbing his hands up and down Jaskier’s half covered thighs. 

Jaskier leaned forwards and whispered into his ear.

A deep blush spread across Geralt’s face and he nodded weakly.

“You’ve got some mouth on you Bard,” he trembled.

Jaskier quirked his eyebrows at him, grin twisting his face as he quickly tore down Geralt’s pants, pulling them and his boots off in one swift movement. He discarded his own breeches and boots before climbing back into Geralt lap, straddling him once more.

Both fully naked and vulnerable and trusting.

Geralt surged up to kiss him, swallowing the noise Jaskier made as he rubbed his hard cock against the cleft of Jaskier’s ass.

“You’re so beautiful Jaskier,” Geralt hummed, brushing the pad of his thumb down Jaskier’s cheek.

The Bard huffed a laugh, twining his fingers into the long silver locks of Geralt’s hair.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he beamed, pressing another hard kiss to Geralt’s lips.

The Witcher accepted his probing tongue eagerly and let his strong hands travel down Jaskier’s back, cup the swells of his ass then brush gently between the cheeks.

Jaskier’s breath hitched in his chest.

“Can you reach it?” Geralt mumbled, nuzzling into Jaskier’s shoulder.

Jaskier leaned over him and delved into the pack Geralt was leaning against. He found the vial he was looking for and sat back, earning a sharp inhale from the Witcher when he brushed against his cock.

Jaskier popped the cap of the vial and grabbed Geralt’s hand, bringing it up so that he could drip the floral scented oil onto Geralt’s fingers.

The Witcher watched him with dark eyes, his breathing shallow.

Jaskier put the vial down beside them and wriggled in Geralt’s lap.

“Well go on then,” he demanded.

Geralt looked up into those fierce blue eyes, felt the pressure of Jaskier’s hands on his shoulders, heard the thrumming of his heart in his chest, smelled the sweat and arousal mixing with the Bard’s usual scent of blossom and sandalwood.

He pulled Jaskier into a soft kiss as his other hand reaching around to press inside the Bard.

He slowly worked his index finger in and out of Jaskier, enjoying the heat and the noises that escaped from him, until he could sink the entire digit in up to the knuckle.

Jaskier was trembling against him, letting his head fall into the crook of Geralt’s neck as the Witcher probed with a second finger.

Geralt massaged soothing circles into the Bard’s hip with his thumb as he pushed deeper into him, keeping his movements slow and steady, drawing long moans from him as he worked him open.

He flexed his fingers in a come-hither motion and Jaskier cried out, sound muffled against Geralt’s skin.

“Ah, ah, there Geralt, fuck,” Jaskier trembled.

The Witcher brushed that sweet spot again and Jaskier crumpled into him, panting, squirming.

Geralt loved taking Jaskier apart piece by piece until he was a trembling mess. He loved how responsive and sensitive Jaskier was, how even the simplest touch could pull the dirtiest noises from him as he succumbed to pleasure, how he took everything Geralt gave him and begged for more.

A third finger was now gliding in and out of Jaskier and the Bard clawed at him desperately as jolts of pleasure spiked through him. It would be very easy to force Jaskier over the edge right now but Geralt wasn’t done with him yet.

He removed his fingers, Jaskier gurning at the sudden loss, and grabbed for the vial of oil, slicking up his own impossibly hard cock and lining himself up against Jaskier’s ass.

“Can I?” he asked, voice thick with need.

“Yes,” Jaskier breathed.

He slowly eased into the Bard, resisting the urge to thrust his entre length into him at once.

Jaskier’s head bumped back onto Geralt’s shoulder as he felt Geralt bottom out and just hold him steady for a moment. His breathing was sharp and shallow, his hands were fisted into Geralt’s hair.

Then Geralt pulled Jaskier up slightly, drawing him off his cock and snapped his hips up to meet him.

The noise that escaped Jaskier’s throat was downright sinful.

Geralt wrapped both arms around the Bard, keeping him flush against his chest as he angled each thrust to brush perfectly against the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside Jaskier.

“You feel so good Jas,” Geralt hummed, “So good.”

Jaskier sat up slightly, capturing Geralt’s lips in a sloppy kiss as he clung to him desperately.

Geralt placed one hand on Jaskier’s hip, the other coming up to tug at his thick hair, grunting into Jaskier’s mouth as he felt warmth pooling in all the right places.

“Geralt. Geralt, fuck” Jaskier whined against the Witcher’s lips, voice high and tight and completely wrecked.

Geralt tugged at Jaskier’s hair again, holding his head back so he could nibble into Jaskier’s neck again.

The delicious moan that fell from Jaskier spurred a particularly sharp thrust that enticed a scream from the Bard.

Geralt pulled him close again, feeling Jaskier’s hot breath on his shoulder and he lost himself in the heat and the tightness and the motions of them moving together.

The sound of laboured breathing and skin on skin filled the small clearing they had set up camp in.

Geralt took hold of Jaskier’s waist and changed his angle slightly. Jaskier jolted and his whole body tensed.

“Please. Geralt. Please,” he whimpered.

The Witcher reached down to tug at Jaskier’s neglected cock and the overstimulation had the Bard trembling and crying out as he shook apart, painting Geralt’s stomach as he came for the second time that night.

As tempted as Geralt was to push Jaskier to his limits and pull a third orgasm from him, he let go and grunted as he came deep inside his Bard. Pleasure tingling through him, forcing the breath from him.

Jaskier collapsed on top of him, shuddering, breath sobbing in his chest as he the echoes of pleasure rippled through his body.

Geralt ran his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, caressing the Bard gently, listening to his rapid pulse and ragged breathing.

He lifted Jaskier gently, slipping his now soft cock out of him and bundled Jaskier in his arms, rolling him gently onto the bedroll and cocooning him against his chest.

They’d deal with the mess in the morning, Geralt decided, watching Jaskier’s eyes flutter lazily as sleep pulled at him.

He kissed the Bard on the forehead, a soft press of his lips and Jaskier snuggled against him.

“I love you Geralt,” he hummed, voice lax with bliss.

“I love you too,” the Witcher smiled.