Those Gay Old Men

Behind you, Eddie huffed a soft laugh. "Might've come out the gate a little too strong there, Volt," he teased. Volt hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps." Carefully, he pulled out of you, drawing a soft whine from your throat. For a moment, he regarded his fingers covered in your slick. "But I'm sure we can find some way to pass the time until they come back down to Earth a little more," he mused, soft grin turning sharp as he moved his attention up to Eddie, "Can't we?" Reaching his hand out to him, he commanded, "Open up." Eddie, of course, was all too eager to obey that particular order. He opened his mouth at once for Volt to settle his fingers—still warm from being inside you—on his tongue.

Jaskier swallowed.

"Well."

Geralt turned his head.

Jaskier was still trying to catch his breath.

"That was..."

He paused, apparently searching through an entire Oxenfurt education for the appropriate word.

"...nice."

There was silence.

Then Geralt laughed.

Not a snort or one of those tiny amused breaths Jaskier usually had to count as laughter, but an actual low, tired laugh that made Jaskier turn toward him in offense.

"Nice?"

"Shut up. I'm exhausted."

"Poet."

"I've temporarily lost access to language."

Geralt's smile remained.

"Nice."

"I'll compose something more eloquent in the morning."

Geralt shook his head, still laughing quietly.

"I put a lot of effort into making sure you felt good, and all I get is *nice*?"

Jaskier's eyebrows climbed.

"Oh, did you?"

Geralt gave him a look.

"My apologies. I hadn't realized you were expecting formal recognition. Would you like a written review? Perhaps a song? *An Ode to the White Wolf and His Considerable Efforts?*"

"Don't."

"I think it has potential."

Geralt rolled his eyes, but there was unmistakable amusement in them.

"Besides," Jaskier continued, recovering some of his usual confidence now that his breathing was finally beginning to settle, "you hardly looked like you were suffering through all that effort."

"Hm."

"Quite dedicated to your work, actually."

"Jaskier."

"Very thorough."

Geralt turned onto his side to look at him properly.

"You sounded like it was a lot more than nice."

Jaskier went still.

Geralt's smile widened.

"Oh, don't you dare."

"Witcher hearing."

"That is an obscene misuse of a mutation."

Geralt laughed again, and Jaskier covered his face with one hand.

"I cannot believe this. I trusted you with those sounds."

"You weren't exactly quiet."

"I was perfectly restrained."

"You weren't."

"Well, whose fault was that?"

That stopped Geralt's teasing for just a moment.

His expression softened as he looked at Jaskier, and when he spoke again there was none of the previous smugness in his voice.

"Mine, hopefully."

Jaskier lowered his hand.

Geralt shrugged one shoulder, suddenly looking almost shy despite everything that had just happened between them.

"I wanted you to feel good."

Something warm and unexpectedly tender tightened in Jaskier's chest.

There had been passion, certainly, but now that Geralt had said it aloud, Jaskier remembered all the smaller things too: the patience, the attention, the way Geralt had watched his face and listened to him, never assuming, always seeming more interested in Jaskier's happiness than proving anything about himself.

"You really were worried about that," Jaskier said quietly.

Geralt frowned as though it were obvious.

"Of course."

Jaskier stared at him for a moment, suddenly robbed of his teasing altogether.

"Well," he murmured eventually, his smile becoming softer, "for the record, it was considerably more than nice."

"Hm."

"Don't get smug."

"Wasn't."

"Liar."

Jaskier expected another laugh.

Instead Geralt lifted one arm.

"C'mere."

Jaskier blinked.

"What?"

"C'mere."

Geralt reached for him, catching him gently around the waist and drawing him across the small distance between them.

Jaskier went willingly, although his surprise must have been obvious because Geralt gave him a questioning look as he settled him against his chest.

"You want to cuddle."

"Hm."

"After."

"Hm."

Jaskier's delight spread slowly across his face.

"Oh, this is wonderful."

Geralt immediately looked suspicious.

"What."

"Nothing. I'm simply updating my understanding of witchers."

"Don't."

"Fearsome hunters. Enhanced senses. Extraordinary stamina. Apparently extremely cuddly once properly—"

"Jaskier."

He laughed, tucking himself closer and slipping an arm comfortably across Geralt's stomach.

Geralt pulled the blanket over them before wrapping both arms securely around him.

That silenced Jaskier more effectively than the warning had.

For a moment he simply lay there, listening to Geralt's heartbeat gradually slowing beneath his ear while Geralt's fingers moved lazily through his damp hair.

"This might be my favorite part," Jaskier admitted quietly.

Geralt's hand paused.

"Really?"

Jaskier nodded against his chest.

Geralt was silent for a moment before his arms tightened around him.

"Mine too."

Jaskier smiled.

Then, because sincerity could only be endured for so long, he murmured, "Still, the part immediately preceding it was also quite nice."

Geralt's chest shook beneath his cheek with another quiet laugh.

"Go to sleep."

"Gladly."