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If you are still doing them (sorry for the delay) how about any combo or any one of these?
are you all right? where are you hurt? // i can't stand the thought of losing you. // when we met, i promised myself i'd keep you safe.
For our DBD boys, show universe?
So the bad news is I think it's going to take me a bit before I can really put this prompt out there
The good news is that it's because the scenario I came up with is more of a full fleshed fic idea than a snippet I'll share on Tumblr... So like, more prompt, but idk when ^^"
Which like. I realize that’s the point. But I just needed to say - oof 💔💘
Just finished A Restless Truth, it was delightful, I adore the girls, and as Merry confirmed for me that A Power Unbound is Hawthorn/Ross, to say I cannot wait for it would be an understatement 😂😂
oh, I'm so glad! when I had the idea to put their backstory in as its own little chapter, complete with the only use of first person POV in the entire series, I wasn't 100% sure it would work. but it seemed the only way to tell it, and I LOVED beth's voice. so.
Hi love! How about #4, 5 & 40 for the weird writing questions? 💗
4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?
hmmmmm. i’ll probably remember a million better ones once i post this, but: tender. the world itself is just so tender and it makes my insides go all soft and goopy and i feel at ease with the world, especially when it’s used in the perfect moment.
5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?
i have this belief that if i don’t write the whole story in one sitting it will never be completed, and, to be fair, well.
it may happen all the time.
i try to fight it otherwise nothing indeed gets written but it’s hard to convince my whacko brain that writing a whole-ass 70K story in one sitting is just not feasible, and i should try it in smaller bits instead.
40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.
it’s wild geese by mary oliver, because i don’t think one can have too much of it:
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Hello! Firstly - this one got very long. Woops. Secondly, Melitele has smiled upon you this fine day, as your word is (and I did NOT cheat): EROTICA! Contains mild-to-middling spice. Also, I know loads of other people have written something along these lines already, but it’s such a good trope.
Geralt found the slim, cheap-feeling book in Jaskier’s pack while looking for a spare tunic. Jaskier had been forced to make a rather hasty escape from a potential lover - including a brief swim across a small lake - and was warming himself in the tub in their rented room while Geralt sought out dry clothes for him.
The book was wrapped in one of Jaskier’s shirts and it fell onto the floor as Geralt pulled it out of the bag. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, reading the title. A Tryst With the Wolf by J.A. Pankratz. He felt like he knew that name, but couldn’t place where from. Odd.
The cover was blank - just the title and name of the author - and he opened it up, wondering why it had been buried in Jaskier’s bag. He skimmed the first page. It appeared to be about a young man, an artist by the name of Joren. The text described in detail his paint-stained fingers. The artist called himself Celandine, and he refused to answer to anything else.
The prose was flowery, but engaging, and Geralt found himself drawn in. He skipped ahead - and soon another character was introduced. A solider? A fighter? There was a full page and a half describing the man - Eric, apparently - which Geralt skimmed over, uninterested. The two men were travelling together, apparently heading to Eric’s northern mountain home, with the odd fight with bandits or mercenaries along the way.
He flipped through pages at random until a phrase leapt out at him. He paused, flipping back.
-- Celandine gripped Eric’s mighty cock in his hand, drawing him out to--
Oh. Oh. It was that sort of book. Erotica. No wonder Jaskier had hidden it. Geralt felt a little guilty. He should return the book to Jaskier’s bag and pretend he’d never even seen it, let alone read some of it.
Yet…
Jaskier would be in the bath for a while; he always did like to take his time.
Geralt leafed through the pages, stopping every so often to read a brief paragraph, a couple of pages. Celandine and Eric certainly were very busy.
There were trysts in the woods, pressed against trees or quiet and shuffling beneath blankets on the cold ground. There was an extremely detailed scene in an inn involving mouths and fingers and a whole sentence dedicated to the taste of Eric’s come. When the plot moved to the mountains and Eric’s wintery home, there were shared baths and beds and a quite phenomenal amount of fucking. Geralt found himself especially drawn to a scene told from Eric’s point of view where Celandine took charge after some sort of wild escape, Eric’s narrative lingering indulgently on the feeling of Celandine inside him, filling him up.
Geralt could feel his own cock stiffening in his breeches.
From the other room, he could hear the soft splashing noise of Jaskier moving about in the tub, cleaning himself, and Geralt was suddenly struck with the image of Jaskier, wet and naked, rubbing the sponge across his skin, the hair on his chest slicked down, his body clothed in nothing but bubbles.
Despite all common sense, all sense of decency or proprietary, Geralt read on. He read how Celandine brought Eric to orgasm over and over - how Eric pleasured Celandine in new, thrilling ways. It was intoxicating.
There was a scene near the end where the lovers shared a bed - not fucking, for once - just enjoying each other’s space, gazing at each other. The scene described Eric’s eyes - they were green, unnaturally so, and Celandine’s chapters often spoke about them in detail, pouring over them despite their apparent inhuman colour. They kissed, and Celandine described his lover in the overblown, flowery language he often did - naming Eric as his great green-eyed wolf.
And then Geralt was struck with a sudden thought. He frowned, and flicked back to the beginning of the book, to the paragraphs he’d skipped over that gave a more thorough description of Eric’s appearance. Tall, broad - well built, but covered in scars. He had ashy blond hair, and another scar creeping across one eye. His eyes were green, his teeth sharp - not quite fangs. Geralt had gotten it wrong: he wasn’t a solider, but a trained fighter - both a nobleman and a hunter. He wore a lot of black. He carried his sword on his back.
Geralt read the page and a half again. He read it three times. But my eyes are yellow, was all he could think.
He skimmed back even further, looking for the description of Celandine which he’d also skipped over rather hastily. There: artistic, dramatic, loud. Tall, with dark hair that was always getting in his eyes. Hirsute - more so than Eric. Blue eyes.
Geralt thought about Jaskier in the bath once more. He shut the book and read the author's name again. And then, like a creature emerging from hibernation, the memory surfaced.
Oh. So that was how he knew that name.
The book in one hand and the spare shirt in the other, he made his way back to the other room where Jaskier was still bathing.
“Jaskier…” it was all he could manage.
Jaskier turned, the water rippling around him. He looked pleased to see him - he was always bloody pleased to see him - but his expression quickly changed as his eyes darted down and he spotted Geralt’s rather obvious erection straining against the fabric of his trousers.
He blushed. “Um…”
Geralt knelt down beside the tub. He offered the book to Jaskier, who took it in a damp hand and peered at it with a little frown - then slowly dawning horror.
“I can explain--” He began, the smell of fear lemony on his skin, “I, ah…”
“You wrote this? Eric and Celandine?”
“No one was supposed to see it!” He said, quickly, “I just… I just wrote it all down to try and get it out, you know, but when I started writing it I couldn’t stop and it turned into this whole thing, and then, fuck, Priscilla found the manuscript in my bag last winter and she read it and told me how good it was, and that I should have it bound, and…” he sighed. “There’s only one copy,” he said, “Pris said I should try and sell it but I refused. I didn’t want anyone to recognise…”
“Us?”
Jaskier nodded, silently.
“So it is us, then?”
Jaskier sank lower in the bath. “Is it that obvious?”
“Actually,” said Geralt, charitably, “I didn’t realise at first.”
“When did you realise?”
Geralt thought. “Near the end. When they’re sharing a bed and Celandine calls Eric his great green-eyed wolf.”
“Really?” Jaskier looked at him with surprise. “But that’s so late in the story! There’s a whole bit at the start where I described you - ah, I mean, Eric - in terrible detail. I thought it would have been obvious from that, let alone all the fighting and grumbling and cursing he does.”
Geralt shrugged. “I skipped a lot of the descriptions. The rest was a lot more interesting.”
Jaskier’s face turned so pink Geralt was amazed the bath water didn’t start to boil around him. “Oh,” he squeaked. “You read… the rest?”
“Some of it. I flipped through. There were a few moments that stood out.”
“...Such as?”
Geralt could hear Jaskier’s heart fluttering faster. The lemony fear smell was gone, replaced with something rich and salty. He tried very hard not to let himself look at his naked form beneath the water.
“The part in the woods,” he said, “the first time. Against the tree.”
“Right….” the word sounded a little strangled as Jaskier said it.
“And…” Geralt paused as Jaskier looked at him expectantly. “The cocksucking in the inn. That part was very… engaging.”
Jaskier was definitely squirming, now, and there weren’t enough bubbles in the world to hide that he, too, was growing aroused.
“It was interesting reading it from Celandine’s point of view,” he continued. “What he was thinking, how he felt… But…”
“Yes?”
“The part after they escape the keep, I think that part was, hmm… best.”
Jaskier thought for a moment, then his eyes went wide. “O-oh?”
“It was very vivid. I could really imagine how Eric felt. How it felt to have Celandine inside him. I could picture it. I can still picture it.”
“Oh fuck, Geralt…”
The book went flying across the room and Jaskier threw an arm around him, pulling him closer. Geralt was more than willing to oblige as Jaskier’s wet skin pressed against him, hot and slick and smelling of salt and lavender. He was so lost in that smell that he lost his balance, and found himself tumbling into the bath, sending water splashing over the sides as he landed rather awkwardly on top of Jaskier.
Jaskier didn’t even hesitate, wrapping his arms around Geralt and kissing him fiercely. Geralt returned the kiss with equal force, Jaskier’s mouth willingly opening beneath him as their tongues explored the new feeling of each other’s lips. Geralt gave a little tug on Jaskier’s lower lip - something that had cropped up in his book more than once - and Jaskier groaned beneath him, his hips jutting against Geralt’s crotch.
Geralt grinned, and Jaskier pulled away, panting.
“Oh,” he said, “this isn’t fair, you’re cheating.”
“Hmm…” Geralt moved away from his lips, down his jaw and towards his neck, sucking lightly at the soft skin. Jaskier gasped again, wriggling.
“Do you want to…” Jaskier began, but his words were cut off by a little moan as Geralt’s hand found its way to his cock, giving it a tight squeeze.
“I do,” Geralt whispered into his ear, lowly.
“There’s oil in my pack…” Jaskier breathed, “But - ah - we should get out of the bath first.”
Geralt pulled back, uncaring for how thoroughly soaked his clothes were, only able to think about how flushed and gorgeous Jaskier looked, his skin glistening in the low light. With only a little distraction they managed to extract themselves from the tub, Geralt pulling off his sodden tunic and trousers while Jaskier rifled through his bag.
When Jaskier returned, Geralt was lying on the narrow bed, waiting for him. He felt a little self conscious - like he was throwing himself at his friend, like Jaskier might have suddenly changed his mind - but Jaskier’s expression when he saw him pushed all those thoughts aside. He stalked towards the bed, his eyes glinting, the little bottle gripped tightly in one hand.
In a fluid movement, Jaskier swung a leg over Geralt’s hips, straddling him. Geralt gazed up at him, his slow heart thudding, his prick aching. Jaskier grinned down at him, apparently enjoying drawing this out.
“So…” he leant down, pressing a hand either side of Geralt’s head, his lips dancing just above Geralt’s skin, “You liked the book?”
Geralt swallowed. “I did.”
Jaskier leant back, lowering himself slowly and dragging his hands along Geralt’s bare torso, fingers fluttering over his scars.
“But you really liked the part with Celandine and Eric, after Eric rescues him from the keep? In their room…” Jaskier’s hand crept lower, his fingers tangling briefly in Geralt’s pubic hair before lightly dancing across his cock, “What was it Eric said?” Jaskier mused, as if he didn’t already know, “Ah yes. I remember. I should remember, after all: I wrote it.”
He lowered himself back down, their chests pressed together, his lips dangerously close to Geralt’s ear. “He said, fill me up. Is that what you want, Geralt?” Jaskier gave his earlobe a little nip. “Do you want me to fill you up?”
Geralt bucked his hips against Jaskier with a hard groan. He did. Fuck - he did, and he hadn’t even realised how much he wanted it until he’d seen it written out in front of him in meticulous, delicious detail.
“Yes,” he murmured, “Yes, Jaskier.”
Jaskier hummed, pleased. “My great white wolf…” he muttered, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s neck, “My darling witcher…”
Geralt couldn’t say that he’d ever been one for pet names, but hearing Jaskier say it sent little shudders down him, igniting his skin. He arched his back as Jaskier’s lips drifted across his collar bone then back to his jaw and mouth
“How about you roll over for me, hmm?” Jaskier murmured against him.
Geralt didn’t need telling twice.
~
Later, after Jaskier had cleaned them both up, they nestled down between the sheets of the bed, Jaskier’s head resting on Geralt’s chest. His fingers were drumming out a nervous beat against Geralt’s skin.
“So…” he said, cautiously, “the book…”
“Hmm?”
“Did you happen to read the ending? Or just, ah, the sexy bits?”
Geralt chuckled. “If I say I only read the sex scenes, I fear you’ll judge me for it. Why?”
Jaskier moved a little against him. He seemed, suddenly, nervous. “It’s just… well, the ending was rather important, you see.”
“Oh?”
“Well, it’s not just about passionate, shirt-ripping sex, is it?”
“Isn’t it?”
There was a hot little puff of breath against Geralt’s chest as Jaskier sighed. “No, it isn’t.”
He lapsed into silence once more. Geralt tried to think back to the book, the few parts he had read. It had been intense and electric, all want and need and fumbling, grabbing hands. Which would make sense, of course: Jaskier was known for his voracious appetites.
Although - no. That was wrong. Yes, Jaskier had a lot of sex, but it wasn’t about that, Geralt slowly realised. Each of his lovers came with a tale about their lives, the colour of their hair, the softness of their skin. Each one was a love story, even if it only lasted a single night. It was never just sex, for Jaskier. Even the book had focused on emotions and feelings and yearning - like looking for a home.
But that was different. That was Celandine and Eric, not Jaskier and Geralt. But could it be?
“Tell me how it ends,” he said, rubbing his hand up and down Jaskier’s naked back.
“Ah…” Lemons and a quickened heartbeat. “They, um, vigorously fuck?”
Geralt laughed. “Tell me how it really ends.”
Jaskier was silent, for a moment, then spoke - talking into Geralt’s chest, his fingers still twitching.
“Celandine and Eric return North,” he said, slowly, “and they realise that they’ve both been bloody fools, ignoring their own feelings under the false impression that the other doesn’t feel the same. They both think it’s just fucking, as far as the other is concerned, but of course it isn’t. So as they return North they realise that actually, they’re quite desperately in love. Um...” He pulled the blanket up around him, as if it could hide him. “They vigorously fuck as well, of course,” he added with forced light-heartedness. “After all the confessions.”
Geralt’s hand kept moving up and down Jaskier’s back slowly and deliberately, but his mind was racing. Just a few hours ago, he hadn’t even realised that Jaskier wanted to shag him, let alone that Jaskier was secretly, desperately in love with him.
And - gods - it felt good. It felt so good. Suddenly everything felt clear - because of course Jaskier was attractive, and if Geralt had known about his more lewd desires years ago he would have fulfilled them happily and - as Jaskier had said - vigorously. But realising that it was more than just admiring him from afar made Geralt realise his own desires - the surprising little feelings he’d tried to push away.
It was the reason why he missed Jaskier on long winters apart, why he’d started to enjoy the sound of string-plucking and mumbled lyrics. Why he’d stand in between Jaskier and a sword or a monster or anything again and again, despite how often he managed to put himself in danger. Why, when he realised that Jaskier had written a whole book about them fucking, he felt only a kind of hot, swelling tug instead of embarrassment or even anger - either of which would have been a fair response.
“Jaskier,” he said, trying to turn the swirling thoughts in his head into something comprehensible, “Look at me, Jaskier.”
Jaskier peered up. His brow was furrowed, nervous - he was waiting for a blow. Geralt couldn’t stand it. He shifted them both, edging himself down as he pulled Jaskier up until their faces were level. He kissed him - drawing it out, feeling Jaskier melt against him. When he finally pulled away, Jaskier’s expression had softened, his lips pink, his hair tousled around his head. Geralt pressed their foreheads together, breathing him in.
“I don’t know about ‘desperately’,” he said quietly.
“No?”
“Hmm… too poetic.”
“Of course.”
Geralt kissed him again, soft and quick. “But I do,” he muttered, barely louder than a whisper, “love you.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmm… yes.”
Their lips brushed - just the faintest touch, a promise of more.
“I love you too,” Jaskier sighed, “although I assume you’ve probably figured that out already.”
“If it helps,” Geralt replied, “I hadn’t realised until you told me the end of the book.”
“I’m not sure that does help.”
“Speaking of the book…”
Geralt slipped his arm around Jaskier, and in a deft movement he spun them both around, so Jaskier was now beneath him, between his arms. Jaskier made a little sound of surprise, but didn’t move, his hands pressed to Geralt’s chest as he peered up at him.
“Yes?” He said, a little breathlessly.
“Do you intend to write a sequel?”
“Perhaps,” said Jaskier, as his hands made their way to Geralt’s waist, his thumbs pressing into his hips, “if inspiration strikes. Why?” He asked, cheekily. “Do you have any ideas?”
Eskel brings lil bleater into his room during a very cold night, and he gets loose in the night and terrorizes the others (geraskier & lambden). Probably interrupting sex or naked sleeping. Shenanigans ensue.
Silly fluff of goat trying to like steal their furs or something and goat-chasing hijinx
🐐
TY ILY 💖
Thanks Twinkerbell! 💖 I hope this is what you wanted! I went with geraskier.
Words: 729
Warnings: Geralt and Jaskier have sex, but it is not described in any detail and isn’t particular horny.
___________
Eskel wasn’t sure how this had become his life. He was sneaking through the stony cold corridors of Kaer Morhen with Lil’ Bleater stuffed into the front of his armour. Luckily she was only a little goat, but that also meant she struggled in the extreme cold of the mountain winters. He kept a low Igni in the palm of his hand to light the corridors in the dead of night, the tiny flame prickling heat against his face. He’d used Axii on his goat whilst carrying her to keep her from bleating the keep down and waking the others but still the bastard kept kicking him in the chest, not particularly grateful for Eskel’s rescue attempt.
“Little shit, that’s what I should have called you,” Eskel groused, pressing his nose against her forehead.
Lil’ Bleater didn’t respond thanks to Axii, but she butted her horns into Eskel’s cheek. He chuckled under his breath. “Lil’ Bastard.”
When he got to his room he settled Lil’ Bleater with some blankets, bribing her with some bread he’d snuck up to his room. She bleated loudly as his sign finally weakened.
“Shh!” He hissed “You’ll wake everyone up.”
She just bleated even louder in response. Eskel rolled his eyes, scooping her up so she could sleep on the bed. She trampled his chest as they both settled down to sleep. He grunted, a little winded from her hooves, but didn’t otherwise complain… she had him wrapped around her little hoof and she knew it.
“Night, little one,” he hummed as he fell asleep; not noticing his bedroom door was still open.
_______________
Jaskier woke up to the rather lovely feeling of Geralt’s dick pressed against his arse. He giggled, wriggling closer to his sleeping boyfriend. Geralt’s arms were wrapped tight around his chest, his nose buried in the crook of Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier hummed happily in his lover’s embrace.
“Geralt?”
“Hmm…”
“Darling, are you awake?” He asked again.
“No,” came the grumbling reply.
Jaskier rolled his eyes, shifting Geralt’s arms until he was facing the witcher. Geralt’s golden eyes blinked open, weary but content, a faint smile on his lips. Jaskier bumped noses together, before kissing his boyfriend.
“Hmm… morning,” Geralt mumbled against Jaskier’s lips.
“Good morning, my dearest.”
It didn’t take long for sleep hazed, lazy kisses to turn passionate and soon enough Jaskier was straddling Geralt’s hips, moaning and panting as Geralt thrust up into him, which was, of course, when a loud bleat startled them.
“Holy mother of fuck!” Jaskier gasped, falling against Geralt as a… goat jumped up onto the bed?
“What the fuck?” Geralt groaned, head hitting the pillow with a sigh and just like that their fun morning was over.
“Geralt… there’s a goat in our bed?”
“Hmm.”
Jaskier rolled off his witcher with a whine, glaring at the intruder. “Stop looking so smug, you arsehole,” he grumbled as the goat wagged her fluffy little tail, bleating again.
“I’m gonna kill Eskel,” Geralt growled.
Jaskier chuckled, the image of the two witchers wrestling out in the courtyard came to mind. It wasn’t as satisfying as morning sex but it would be a good consolation prize. “Can I watch?” He asked, reaching out to stroke the goat behind her ears and she started to chewed at the sheets.
“Hmm,” Geralt agreed “fine.”
“Oi, no… stop eating that!” Jaskier snapped, tugging the sheets away from the goat. She bleated loudly, and jumped off the bed to eat the furs by the fireplace instead. Jaskier cursed, pulling a blankets around his shoulders as he tried to shoo her from their room. She slipped by him and grab his favourite teal doublet in her teeth before running from the room. “Oh bollocks! Geralt! Help!”
Geralt, the bastard, just laughed, watching as Jaskier hopped around the room looking from some trousers so he could go racing after the goat. “It’s just a goat, Jask. You hardly need a witcher.”
Jaskier spun round with one had on his hips. “You are no help!”
Geralt just shrugged.
“Fuck you,” Jaskier grumbled as he finally found a pair of Geralt’s under clothes to pull on. “Actually, no, on seconds thoughts, no. No more sexy fun times for you.”
Geralt raised an eyebrow, unperturbed by Jaskier’s very serious threats. “She’s getting away.”
Jaskier cursed again and ran off after the thief, Geralt laughter echoing behind him.
A/N: *grabs Geraskier notebook and blows off the gratuitous amount of dust with a spluttering cough* This one’s for @stinastar. Just a little pick me up. Hope you like it. Warnings: Jaskier is a hot mess; mentions of past trysts with a bored noblewoman and the consuming of an unfortunate guinea fowl.
“You’re a little shit,” Geralt growled as he hunkered down behind a huge stack of crates. To disguise his presence, he’d shrugged his swords from his back and held them down by his side, and was currently shrugging his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders. “This happens every time we’re in Redania.”
“In my defence,” Jaskier whispered, his tone just shy of a whine. “How was I supposed to know it was a special guinea fowl? You eat guinea fowl, Geralt. You don’t have it as a mascot.”
“It was on their coat of arms,” the Witcher seethed, eyes narrowing over the top of a packed barrel as keen ears listened out for the tell-tale thud-thud-jangle of jogging militiamen. “You don’t cook the animal on their coat of arms.”
“Pfft,” Jaskier fluttered both hands dismissively and then puffed at his bonnet feather as it dropped low over his cheek. “The fact that he’s more concerned that I ate his pet than slept with his wife says more about him than me.”
“It really doesn’t. Shut the fuck up, I think I can hear them.”
“She’s thoroughly bored with life. The man hasn’t visited her bed in months. Any longer and she’d be filing for divorce due to unconsummated marriage. Her nethers would seal up, the poor woman. I was doing him a favour really. I’ve saved his marriage. Now she can endure another four months of enforced celibacy, perhaps I should return for a regular service—.”
“Jaskier,” Geralt hissed. His suspicion of their encroaching demise was rapidly solidifying into a certainty as his keen Witcher hearing picked up shouts of ‘bard’ and ‘grouse’.
“—there is, of course, always the worry that the son she produces may have blue eyes, brown hair and a flare for the dramatic, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take for the sake of the poor woman’s health and sanity. There would be no proof, and the child robust, I could pass it off as a trick of breeding, yes, it would be my gift. That old coot isn’t going to sire worthwhile offspring. She does so want a child, she told me, you know, in between,” Jaskier nodded sagely. “I feel like a singular guinea fowl was the bare minimum they could pay me for all the hard work I did that evening. I broke a sweat and everything. You know, her mattress was awfully lumpy and—.”
The sounds of footfalls were growing louder. Dark shadows fell across the alleyway and Geralt’s eyes widened. Jaskier was still prattling on, completely oblivious to his impending capture, and so Geralt had to act. He swept his hood up over his head to hide his white hair, grabbed the troubadour by the front of his outrageously vibrant doublet and forced him up against the wall. The indignant squeak of protest dissolved into a surprised whine when Geralt’s lips sealed their mouths together, his tongue sweeping forward to wrestle Jaskier’s under control for five fucking minutes.
The militiamen rounded the corner just as Jaskier melted beneath the folds of Geralt’s cloak with a quiet whimper. “Ahh, fuck, it’s not them,” said a gruff voice, clearly under the impression that Witchers would never kiss their lust-addled bards, “oi, ya’ feckers, get a room!” A round of low, coarse laughter echoed in their wake. Geralt waited until even his ears could no longer pick up the jangle of their chainmail, before pulling away.
“Right, now we need to—,” he looked back to Jaskier, his gaze having wandered to the mouth of the alleyway, and the look of wonder knocked him for six. Those blue eyes were blown wide and Geralt could see his own face reflected back in the shimmering black mirrors of Jaskier’s pupils; plush pink lips were damp and glistening, the lower slowly curling between Jaskier’s teeth as a flush rose up his neck. “What?”
“Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, almost conversationally. “Just a quick question; small, minor query, really.”
“Hm?” Geralt’s brow furrowed, because that tone was new too; husky, with a soothing lilt seasoned with a little spice at the edges.
“What—in the name of Melitele’s pulchritudinous breasts—was that? And why have we never done it before? And when can we do it again? And—.”
Geralt rolled his eyes and leaned in for another round. Well, if it’d buy him a few more minutes of thinking time. It’s not like Jaskier’s mouth was at all distracting, nor was the way his legs lifted off the floor and wrapped around Geralt’s waist, or the little arch he did that pushed their bodies together, with the head tilt that—
