AN: And here's the second installment! This takes place long before Musical Interlude, soon after episode 3 in the series. The song in this chapter is "Here's Your Freaking Song" by Bowling for Soup. It's hysterical. Go listen to it and enjoy!
Summary: Geralt learned the hard way that went Jaskier gets mad, he gets nasty.
If there was one thing Jaskier hated, it was cold weather. He didn't like layering, he didn't like shivering, he didn't like being in a place where the air hurt his face. While he liked scarves and hats as fashion accessories, he loathed them as survival necessities. So when winter came to the continent, he tended to head south so stay warm.
On the other hand, Geralt liked winter. Well, as much as a Witcher can like anything. New monsters popped up that only came out with snow on the ground or when things froze over. There was more work, so he tended to go more north into the colder parts of the continent. By the end of winter, his purse was always full.
This caused a fundamental problem when Jaskier and Geralt started traveling together and winter was around the corner. So they came to an agreement. They would stay together around the middle of the continent until Jaskier couldn't take the cold anymore, then they would go their separate ways, picking a spot to meet up again in three months time. By then the snow would be gone and, while it might not be warm, it wouldn't be the freezing temperatures that Jaskier so despised and Geralt's work would have slowed down enough for him to be comfortable leaving the far north.
It was a reluctant parting for both parties. Geralt had just gotten used to Jaskier being around and the first night apart, he found the silence disturbing. In fact the entire three months he couldn't quite get over the fact that it was so quiet. Often times he'd find himself looking over his shoulder to see Jaskier's reaction to something, or bracing himself for a quick witted comment that would never come. He'd never admit it, but he missed his bard. That's why when the time came for them to reunite, Geralt decided to arrive early just in case.
Early proved to be a good idea as he rode up to the inn the marked as their meeting spot as he heard the familiar tones of Jaskier's singing. It was as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders when he heard that voice and he egged Roach on a little faster. When he dismounted, he just shoved the reigns into the stable boy's hands instead of stabling her himself. He couldn't tell what had come over him, but he needed to see his bard again. Too many nights had he been plagued with nightmares of Jaskier's broken corpse on the side of the road with a monstre hovering over him ready for dinner. That's why he threw open the doors to the tavern, heart pounding in his ears, gold eyes frantically searching for the undoubtedly garish doublet.
When he didn't see a bright color, he panicked for a split second, until his hearing returned to him and he followed the sound of Jaskier's voice to the far corner of the tavern where a small stage had been built. He was wearing a plain brown doublet and sleeves, no wonder Geralt hadn't spotted him right away. Everyone else in the tavern had turned to see the witcher, stopping meals and drinks in fear, but Jaskeir hadn't stopped singing, he just locked eyes with Geralt and gave him a wink before turning his attention back to his audience. Geralt had learned long ago not to interrupt him in the middle of a set, so instead he ordered food and drink from the bar and sat down at a table near the stage.
Just being near the bard again eased a knot in his belly that Geralt hadn't realized was there. For so many decades it had been just him traveling the continent alone, but in just 9 short months this annoying little shit had become such an important part of Geralt's life that he didn't feel whole without him. It was an odd feeling and he wasn't sure he entirely liked it.
It only took another minute for Jaskier to finish his song. When he did, he announced he was taking a short break, put down his lute, and bounded over to Geralt with all the energy of a new puppy. Geralt braced for impact and Jaskier threw his arms around Geralt in what he was sure the bard thought was a crushing hug.
"I thought you weren't coming back," Jaskier whispered, a sniffle clear in his voice as he buried his face in Geralt's shoulder. "I honestly thought you'd ditched me."
"I'm a week early," Geralt grumbled, awkwardly patting Jaskier's head.
"What planet are you from that two weeks late is one week early?!" Jaskier barked back, pulling back enough to look Geralt in the eyes. The WItcher was genuinely shocked, and Jaskier could see that, so his tone softened as he asked, "What kind of trouble did you get into?"
"I'll tell you later," Geralt replied, his tone implying a promise. His eyes drifted over Jaskier's shoulder as he added. "You have company."
Jaskier turned, and sure enough a woman in a brillant dress was striding over. He was on his feet at once and Geralt could see his fight or flight response kick in as he did so. But the woman was too quick, wrapping both arms around one of Jaskier's and nuzzling her cheek into his shoulder. With a deep breath and a forced smile, he turned back to Geralt.
"Dear, this is the Witcher I told you so much about, Geralt of Rivia," Jaskier started. Geralt noticed a tenseness to his shoulders and furrowed his brow. "Geralt, this is Helga, Countess de Marke."
Geralt already had a beer at his lips, and he was going to give his usual, dismissive 'Hm'. Until the countess spoke in the most high pitched, squeaky, nails on a chalkboard voice he'd ever heard. "So nice to finally meet you, Geralt of Rivia," she said, holding out her hand for a kiss, ignoring the fact that her voice just made Geralt choke on his beer. "My fiance has only ever sung your praises. Quite literally."
"Fiance?" he coughed, shocked to hear that word in reference to Jaskier. Not just that he would be getting married, but that he would be marrying her. Something inside Geralt twisted at the thought and he bit back a growl.
The bard opened his mouth, but Helga cut him off. "Yes, we're to be married in a few days," she said, squeezing his arm tighter. Geratl's eyes flashed to Jaskier, who turned green at the very idea. "Oh I can't wait! I have a gown being made, my daddy is paying extra to make sure it's done in time. It's going to be completely encrusted in pearls! Head to toe in pearls and diamonds~ I'm going to look like a queen when I walk down that aisle, you know. It's only going to be the best of the best of the best when I marry my handsome Jules, isn't that right my darling? Do you like what he's wearing now, Witcher? I picked this out myself. I think it matched his complexion better and it lets his eyes pop, not like those awful clothes he used to wear. He doesn't want to admit that his life has already been improved by the touch of a woman, but that's a man for you really. I'm going to make sure from now on he's only the most fashionable person in the entire continent! People are going to style themselves after-"
"Dear please, Geralt's had a very long ride, I'm sure he doesn't want to hear about fashion." Jaskier tried, his voice so exhausted that Geralt was sure this isn't the first time he's had to stop this woman was talking someone's ear off.
"Who doesn't want to hear about fashion? It's so important!" she exclaimed, turning back to Geralt before Jaskier could stop her. "Though I suppose I understand why my precious Jules says that. I mean look how you're dressed! All black and chain mail? Oh no, dear Witcher, that went out of fashion decades ago. Don't you worry, any friend of Jules is a friend of mine, and any friend of mine will not be seen in public wearing out of fashion attire!" Geralt opened his mouth to tell her it's more like a uniform than fashion, but she continued before he could. "I could see you in dusty blues. Yes that would match your eyes! Dusty blues and pastels. Oh! And perhaps paisley patterns. I think that would work, you have the right complexion for paisley patterns. Not like my Jules, no he can't handle patterned fabric. He-"
"HELGA!" It was the first time Geralt had ever heard Jaskier raise his voice, and he found it disconcerting. But the bard looked exhausted, fed up, and angry. Even Helga looked a little shocked and it seemed she was about to start talking when Jaskier quickly said, "Why don't you start designing Geralt a new wardrobe? He has very little imagination, he needs visual aides to really understand what you're saying."
"Oh yes, of course, you're right!" Helga cried triumphantly, letting go of Jaskier's arm. "He's always right because he's so smart, you know. Highly educated and from just the best stock. It's a wonder he's stayed single so long, having such a big brain and a sexy voice and a huge-"
"Go, Helga, don't waste anymore time, lest the ideas slip away like last time!" Jaskier prompted, grabbing her shoulders to physically turn her back to the table and he gave her a gentle shove away. She skipped away gleefully and Jaskier just collapsed next to Geralt on the bench, slumping over until his face was in his hands and his elbows on his knees. "Not a bloody word."
"By the gods there are two of you," Geralt breathed, finding that Helga had stolen all the air from the room in her tirade. She was more overwhelming then Jaskier was when they first met. At least Jaskier allowed someone to get a word in edgewise.
"I said not a bloody word," Jaskier hissed, the venom in his voice tainted with exhaustion.
There were so many questions spinning around in Geralt's head that he didn't know where to start. He found there was one that encompased most of it, though. "How?"
"Fuck if I know," Jaskier muttered, throwing up his arms in defeat. "I just gave her the same smile I give everyone else and she got it in her head that was a proposal. She's fabricated the entire thing. I'm at my wits end. I can't do anything about it because she has three very scary older brothers who will murder me if I do anything."
Geralt hummed, nodding as he thought. "Jewels?" he asked, arching his brow. The nickname seemed… out of place. He wasn't even sure he heard it right.
"She started calling me that because she said my eyes shine like jewels." That was a blatant lie, but Geralt wasn't going to press him. In fact he could tell by the bard's smell most of his explanation was a lie. Humans had a certain scent when they were lying. Jaskier so rarely lied to him that he felt the bard must have a good reason. He'd let the truth come out when he was ready. Suddenly Jaskier shot up, the shit eating grin that Geralt had come to know plastered on his face. "Wait. I have an idea. You're here now. You could stop her brothers from killing me."
By habit, Geralt wanted to tell him he wasn't going to get involved. But just hearing that woman made him take pity on his bard. And the idea of him marrying her made his stomach turn. Actually the idea of Jaskier marrying anyone made his stomach turn and he wasn't sure why.
"Fantastic! I hope you weren't planning on spending the night here because as soon as I finish this song, we're going to have to run." Jaskier was rubbing his hands together as he thought, looking very much the evil genius. Geralt had in fact been hoping to spend the night in a nice bed, but removing his bard from his situation took precedence over his comfort. Besides, there was always another inn.
"Let me eat first," Geralt said with a nod as he tucked into his plate. Jaskier just grinned wide as he sauntered back onto the stage, picked up his lute, and began another ballad.
Jaskier was at least considerate, waiting not just until Geralt finished, but also giving him time to digest before he shot the witcher a wicked grin and turned towards his fiance.
"My dear, he began, clipping a kapo onto his lute, "For ages you've been asking me 'why don't you write me a song?' And I'm like 'I don't know, I'm not inspired to write you a song.'
But last night, I decided I'm gonna freakin' do this."
Jaskier started to strum the intro bars and Geralt knocked back the rest of his beer, both anticipating and dreading the coming lyrics.
"We've been together for so long
And you always asked me why I never wrote a song
All about you, about our love,
And about how you're the only one I'm thinking of
I've been writing all night
And I
I got it just right!
Here we go!
You talk too much
You never shut up!
Everything I do for you is never enough
You snore, you drool,
You talk in your sleep
Won't get a night's rest until you're six feet deep
I promised you forever
But we both know,
We're never gonna get along
You want it, you got it
Here's is your fucking' song!"
Geralt was so glad he already finished his drink, because otherwise it might have come out his nose. He'd never expected those kinds of lyrics to come out of his bard, who usually over ever sang of pure love and lust and adventure. He stole a look towards Helga, who was in such shock she was completely silent. She just stared at Jaskier, open mouthed and gaping as he continued.
"And all my homies have always said,
What you doing with that girl? She's fucked up in the head
My mom don't like you, my dad don't too
And my brother says you look like guy from Hüsker Dü
I'm just keeping it real, this is
Just how I feel
Here we go
You talk too much
You never shut up
Everything I do for you is never enough
You snore, you drool,
You talk in your sleep
Won't get a night's rest until you're six feet deep
I promised you forever
But we both know,
We're never gonna get along
You want it, you got it
Here's is your fucking song!"
Jaskier finished the last measure and lowered his hands, looking right towards his lady. The entire bar had been rocked into silence. There wasn't even an applause. Geralt's hand was already on his sword, energy coiling in his core and a rune on his hand, ready to jump up and defend his bard. After a tense minute, Helga shot up, tears streaming down her face.
"HOW DARE YOU?!" she screeched, making everyone in the bar cover their ears from the shrill noise. "My daddy will hear about this!"
"Go ahead! Tell you dad all about it, I"m sure he'll be completely confused!" Jaskier snapped back, passing his lute off to a young boy, who ran off with it and the case. Geralt had seen him running back and forth from the upper floor to the stables with Jaskier's things.
"What are you talking about?!" she screamed, getting right up in Jaskier's face. He was still a head taller than her, but that didn't stop her. "He's coming tomorrow for our wedding!"
"Don't you get it, you stupid bitch, he's not coming. There's not going to be a wedding!" he screamed back, his face darkening in a way that Geralt had never seen. He was truly angry.
"Of course there is, he's having my dress made! He promised me in his letters!"
"I wrote those letters!"
"But I wrote him back!"
"And I stopped them from getting to the postman! You're a self-aggrandizing cunt and I will never marry you!"
The smack that Jaskier received for that echoed in the quiet bar. It snapped his head to the side so fast that he had to rub his neck. Helga was ugly crying now, her entire face red, her eyes were puffy, and both nostrils were running. Jaskier didn't give her a thought, he harshly shoved past her and walked straight for the door. Geralt was on his feet in a second and followed closely behind.
"My brothers will kill you for this!" she yelled after them in one last desperate attempt to make him stay.
"They'll have to get through me first," Geralt replied, slamming the door shut behind him.
Roach and Pegasus were already out and ready to go. The men mounted quickly and took off down the road, the shouts of angry men following after them.
It wasn't hard to outrun Helga's brothers. After all, Geralt and Jaskier had gotten quite the headstart on them, not to mention the two had no problem darting off the main roads and into the forests. By the time the sun set, they were certain they were well in the clear. Jaskier had remained extraordinarily quiet the entire ride, perhaps out of fear that his voice would draw the brothers right to them. A wise move, Geralt realized, as they rode through the woods and he saw a few monsters out of the corner of his eye. The kind who don't attack unless provoked, and Jaskier's voice would have absolutely provoked them. Geralt was about to suggest bunking down for the night, until Jaskier spoke for the first time in hours. It almost made Geralt jump.
Almost.
"There's another inn about an hour if we keep in this direction," Jaskier said, drawing Pegasus neck to neck with Roach. "I'll pay for it. I feel bad. After traveling all that time and I made you run out of the inn like that…"
"Worth it," Geralt huffed. He glanced over and saw the horrified look on Jaskier's face, he clarified, "Seeing the look on her face during your song. Worth losing a bed for the night."
"Did you like it?" Jaskier asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
"As much as any of your songs," came the short answer. He's been vocal about his distaste of Jaskier's music, and he saw his bard deflate a little bit. Geralt would never tell him that it was the thing he missed the most in the three months they were apart. Speaking of the time they were apart… "I was fighting a striga."
"Who and a what now?" Jaskier asked, shaking his head out of a funk as he dug in his saddle bag for his journal and pen. "Start from the beginning?"
And so Geralt told him about his adventure in Temeria with King Foltest and the striga. For Jaskier's benefit, he added as many details as he could. He knew Jaskier would just make up stuff anyway, but at least this way it wouldn't be complete horseshit. Geralt explained that he thought he had only been unconscious for a few days after this battle, but Triss must have kept him in an induced sleep much longer than he thought. Of course this led to the inevitable 'didn't you ask someone for the date?' question from Jaskier and Geralt just ignored it. He didn't want his bard to know that upon waking he rode as fast as he could south, mostly taking back ways and cutting through forests, basically avoiding civilization all together because it always slows him down. There was no one to ask on his travels. Not that he needed it, he thought he was a week early.
Maybe he should have stopped by civilization.
There was no point lamenting about it now. Geralt sank a little farther into his saddle as they continued their ride. It was silent for only a few minutes while Jaskier pondered over lyrics before pulling out his lute and singing a new ballad. As expected, he exaggerated and made up most details to make the song more epic. He glossed over the story of Foltest and Anna, trying to save face for the king in case he was ever called to sing in the Termerian court. The witcher found this amusing, more than he usually would. He was enjoying being back with his bard.
His bard. Geralt wasn't sure when he'd begun referring to Jaskier as 'his bard', but he found it didn't sit ill on his tongue. Chancing a glance, he saw Jaskier staring up at the darkening sky, lost in thought. Slender fingers were still poised over the lute he'd been strumming just a second before, stilled only as he thought up a new stanza. It was a wonder the things Jaskier's face did when he was thinking. His brow scrunched up when he was trying to remember a word. His left eye twitched when he was having trouble with a tune. His nose flared when he couldn't remember a melody. His tongue poked out of his mouth when he was on the verge of a break through. At that moment, his eye was twitching and his tongue was poking out, so he was trying to figure out the tune to the next part of the song and almost had it. Geral watching in anticipation. He'd never tell Jaskier, but he looked forward to each song, each line, each note that came from those fingers and those lips. They were all treasures that Geralt held close to his hardened heart.
How was it that this loud, annoying, in your face, pesky little bard had wormed his way there? When had he managed it? Much like it did nothing to lament over being late, Geralt figured there wasn't much he could do about what was in the past. He now had to make sure that his bard didn't get any closer.
"What are you staring at?"Jaskier's voice roused him from his thoughts and he found he'd gotten lost in thought while looking at the bard. Now those sparkling blue eyes were boring right into his, searching for an explanation.
"You have dirt on your cheek," Geralt lied swiftly and easily as he trotted ahead while Jaskier frantically rubbed at his face to remove the phantom stain.
The inn was hopping when they arrived. People were bustling and drunk, even though it had only just turned evening, and Jaskier planned to take full advantage of it. He all but launched off Pegasus upon arrive and ran into the tavern with his lute at the ready. He began singing almost as soon as he was through the door, getting the already excited crowd riled up into a fervor. Just a few epic ballads of Geralt's adventures (and a few choruses of 'Toss a Coin') and his lute case was overflowing with the generous coin of the bar patrons. During this time, Geralt only rented a room for them, secured a meal, and watched with the height of amusement as Jaskier played off the crowd and they played to him. If Geralt didn't know any better, he'd say that Jaskier had enchanted the entire bar just to keep praising him.
After a few hours, Jaskier came down from the stage and plopped right down next to Geralt, taking a few cold potatoes from his plate and motioning the barmaid over. She sauntered over, her volumtious bosom spilling over her bodice to entice any barfolk for the night. When she leaned over Jaskier, Geralt found his hand twitching to shove her away. Jaskier just leaned with her, a finger twirling around her hair and guiding her down so he could whisper in her ear. Geralt found a growl forming in his throat that he swallowed back down. He wasn't intoxicated enough for that kind of behavior. So instead he turned away and downed the rest of the beer, covering his sight with the bottom of his mug. He heard her walk away and chanced a glance at Jaskier. The bard was eating the leftovers off his plate, more consumed by his meager meal then the fact that he was practically in Geralt's lap to get to the plate. The witcher enjoyed the proximity so much that he didn't bother moving the plate closer. Infact, he mustered a weak sign and the plate slid farther away. Not too far as to startling him, but far enough to make the brunet scoot closer, until he was nestled into Geralt's side to finish off the last of the potatoes. Before Geralt could make a quip about him being hungry, the barmaid returned with a fresh plate of dinner and two mugs of beer. She gingerly set the food and one beer down in front of the bard and all but threw the other beer at Geralt with a sneer. Then she placed herself full in Jaskier's lap with a lusty grin, barely giving the poor bard a chance to react before she was placing a heated kiss to his lips.
Seeing that stirred an anger in Geralt's belly that he'd never felt. It was a sickening feeling that sent a cold spike down his spine and pain in his chest. Never in his life did he want to rip apart a human with his bare hands but seeing that slut on his bard made him-
The woman froze in her ministrations and pulled away, as if in a daze. Jaskier's eyes were boring into hers, his lips fluttering lightly in a semblance of speech, and she got up, her limbs stiff as she walked away. Once well out of sight, Jaskier scrubbed his mouth on the back of his hands and took a long swig from his drink before spitting it into an empty bowl nearby. As if realizing for the first tim that Geralt's eyes were on him, he turned towards his friend with a lopsided grin and a shrug.
"Occupational hazards." He waved his hand dismissively, like it was a perfectly normal thing to have happen, and tucked into his meal.
WIth a huff, Geralt turned around on the bench and leaned against the table, taking in a full view of the inn. Now that the night had worn on, most of the drunkards had fallen asleep on tables or left to stagger home. He felt bored, with no contracts, no heading, and nothing to wake up for tomorrow, he went up to the barkeep and got a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses before returning to the table. He put the glasses between them and filled them both in silent offering. Jaskier gladly took his and raised it high.
"To reuniting," Jaskier toasted with a broad grin. Geralt just hummed. Jaskier clinked their glasses together for him and took his shot.
It was difficult to get a witcher drunk, the mutations saw to that. After all, these men, at their core, are still just as phallable as humans, so the creators decided to remove one temptation. The last thing anyone needed was a hammered Wticher armed to the teeth and possessing such arcane magic that it could kill someone with a swipe of his hand. This went double for Geralt, whose mutations went so far above and beyond what's normally done that it was near impossible to get him drunk. Jaskier seemed determined to do just that.
The bard went shot for shot with him until several bottles had been emptied. Geralt was sure that by then Jaskier would have passed out drunk, but he looked like Geralt did, none the worse for wear and raring to continue. Now just as Jaskier saw it as a personal challenge to make his witcher smashed, Geralt needed to see what Jaskier looked like when he was black out drunk. He'd seen the bard tipsy, all hips and eyes and flirting with everything in sight. Everything except Geralt. He wasn't jealous, just wondering what in Jaskier's inebriated mind made him avoid turning those attentions onto him. Maybe because he, like everyone other human with sense, knew deep down Geralt was a monster, and a brain with no inhibitions to the contrary made him just as afraid as everyone else.
What a dark turn his mind had taken. When he first imagined Jaskier blasted, he imagined all the bard's usual flirting turned up to a 10. That shouldn't have bothered him. It shouldn't have stirred that same feeling as earlier when the maid sat in his lap. He shouldn't care.
But he did.
Jaskier must have seen the dark look in his eyes because the bard opened his mouth to start rambling. Geralt didn't hear it. All he heard was his heart pounding in his ears as he looked at that disgusting brown doublet the bard still wore. It was a constant reminder that his bard could be taken from him and he needed it gone. WIthout a word, he grabbed Jaskier's hand and dragged him up the stairs, ignoring his whines about leaving good alcohol on the table, and threw him into their rented room. With only a second to steady himself, Geralt was on him, grabbing the collar of his doubet in a death grip and a snarl on his face.
'This is it' Jaskier thought, turning his eyes towards the ceiling. 'He's going to kill me.' With a gulp, he said out loud, "Listen, I know we're both pretty drunk but if you can do me a favor and
leave my face alone, I'd like to be pretty at my funeral."
His words made Geralt still for a moment. What must he look like right now that his bard thought he was going to die? His drunken brain wasn't cooperating, he couldn't will himself to change his course of action. Unbidden, his hands moved for him, and his voice spoke without his consent.
"You're mine," he growled, ripping down the front of that ugly doublet. Buttons flew in every direction. Gods above the fabric didn't even feel nice. Rough and stratchy, not even something Geralt would wear when he was on the balls of his ass. "Not some countess'," another tear, this time down the back, "not some bar maid's," a sleeve went flying, the closures leaving angry red marks where they scraped Jaskier's skin, "no one else's." The other sleeve now, this time leaving welts where the closures were pulled against his arm and then broken. "Mine." The last shreds of the doublet hit the floor and he took a step back to admire his work and. Besides his bard being flushed and breathing heavy, Geralt saw that under that repulsive doublet, Jaskier had worn a baby blue shift. That was the color that brought out his eyes, which were now glowing as he straightened himself and smoothed down his shirt.
"Gods above, Geralt, give a man a warning before you ravage him like that," Jaskeir joked, running his hand nervously through his hair. That was certainly the last thing he expected to come out of the witcher's mouth, drunk or not. He caught Geralt's eyes and even hammered, he knew that look so very well.
That was the warning. And Geralt wasn't done with him yet.
Neither of them were sure who moved first. The following moments were a bit of a blur and the next thing either of them really knew was that their lips were locked in a passionate kiss. There was nothing gentle about it, it was all gnashing teeth and fighting tongues, and Jaskier quickly lost the battle for dominance and melted into Geralt's arms. The witcher's hands smoothed down his back before cupping his ass, squeezing and lifting him slightly into the air. Jaskier got the hint and wrapped both incredibly long legs around Geralt, grinding their hips together in a motion that made both men moan obscenely into the kiss.
They were both far too drunk to care that what they were doing might affect their relationship. All they cared about was the growing need in their bellies as they kissed and touched and groaned and writhed against each other. Jaskier was the first to break the kiss, blue eyes locking onto gold. It was a steadying moment as they both caught their breath.
"Geralt," he breathed, his voice hoarse and husky. It made Geralt's already tight pants almost burst. "Geralt… Gods, Geralt…" His name continued spilled from the bard's lips, growing more lustful with each iteration until Geralt growled with need. That snapped Jaskier from his chant, and he refocused his eyes on his witcher. "I'm yours?"
"You are mine," Geralt purred, leaning forward to nip on Jaskier's lips.
"Then lay your claim on me, make me yours," Jaskier breathed, rolling his hips again to make Geralt hiss. "Please, Geralt, I need you so badly."
"Hhmmmm I like it when you beg," Geralt hummed, walking over to the bed and throwing Jaskier down none too gracefully.
"I want you to kiss me," Jaskier began, as though it was licence to keep talking. He sat up, pushing on Geralt's chest before he could mount the bed. Instead Jaskier's hands went to the buttons on his shirt and undid each one with deliberate slowness. His fingers were deft despite his drunken state and for a moment Geralt wondered if the bard had been faking his stupor somehow. "No I need you to kiss me. Ravish me with your mouth and leave marks all over my body. Let anyone else who sees them know that I belong to the mighty Geralt of Rivia. I want you to take me, all of me, fuck me so hard that if anyone doesn't hear the bed shaking they'll see me bowlegged tomorrow and everyone will know." His shirt is gone now, and Jaskier begins to unlace his trousers. "Gods, Geralt, I want marks on my body that won't go away for weeks. I want to be reminded whom I belong to every time I see them in a mirror. I need you like a drowning man needs air. I will do anything you ask, anything, to be taken like I've imagined a hundred times in my dreams."
"Anything at all?" Just the thought of Jaskier having wet dreams about him made Geralt release a primal growl. He gave the bard a wicked smile as his trousers were pulled down and pushed Jaskier to his knees. "Suck my cock first and we'll see if you've earned more."
Jaskier mirrored his smirk and nudged Geralt's trousers down the rest of the way. The way Geralt's hips bucked, he was sure his witcher was impatient to start fucking his face with a rock hard cock that was already standing at attention, but Jaskier wasn't going to give in so easily. After all, this was his work to earn his reward and he was going to work hard. So he nuzzled his cheek into Geralt's thigh, pressing quick kisses to the inside before running his tongue up the femoral vein. He felt Geralt shiver and grinned. He continued to press more feather light kisses around his groin, avoiding his cock and balls until a growl from Geralt's throat made his grin wider. So he pulled back his head to admire Geralt's body, taking in every inch. He was jealous, the witcher was devoid of body hair, so the sweat that already gathered was glistening beautifully in the firelight. It was an intoxicating scene, and Jaskier quite forgot his teasing. He placed a gentle kiss to Geralt's leaking member before taking the whole thing in his mouth.
Now, Jaskier wasn't religious, not by any stretch of the imagination. But the way his tongue worked around Geralt's member, the way his cheeks hollowed when he swallowed, the way his lips created a beautiful suction, it was like his mouth was worshiping him. Every twist and lick was a prayer and his god was Geralt. The witcher chanced a glance down and watching his cock disappear inside Jaskier's mouth was driving him wild. He brought a hand down to grab a fistful of chestnut hair, enough to keep him steady, as he started to callously fuck his mouth. He felt the bard's hands grip his hips, felt him gag and whimper around his cock, but he couldn't bring himself to care because gods in heaven he was so close. Damn this bard and his talented mouth. It took a skilled whore hours of their best to get him off and in a few minutes this bard was going to have him almost spent. He pushed deep and felt himself hit the back of Jaskier's throat and that was it. He came with a loud groan, his useless seed spilling down Jaskier's throat and making him choke. Geralt held him there until he was finished, his fingers going lax in his hair as he took deep, steadying breaths. The poor bard had to yank Geralt's limp hand off him so he could release himself from the witcher's cock, leaning back on his heels and doubling over to cough and gag.
Looking down, Geralt saw his bard on his knees, his cum dripping down his chin as he tried to regain his breath. The sight made Geralt half hard again. But he noticed Jaskier still had all his clothes on and that was just unacceptable.
"Strip, bard," Geralt commanded, regaining Jaskier's lustful attention. "I'm not done with you yet."
That had Jaskier scrambling to his feet, pulling his shift over his head and tossing it aside. Geralt licked his lips wontanly as he watched Jaskier undo his trousers with lust-filled eyes. Aware of golden eyes boring into him, Jaskier decided to give his witcher a show. He swung his hips as he hooked his thumbs around the waist, pulling it down a couple inches, just to tease his soon to be lover with the dip in his hips. But Geralt wasn't having any of it. He grabbed Jaskier's trousers and tore them right off the bard's body. He ignored the indignant whine that came from the brunet and swallowed it in a passionate kiss as he pressed their naked bodies together. Electricity sparked between them as Geralt eased them onto the bed, not breaking their kiss or the sweet contact between them. The witcher leaned back just enough to look at his bard, red face, sweating, out of breath and keening for more.
Who was Geralt to deny him. He dipped his head down to Jaskier's neck and pressed an open mouthed kiss at the junction of his jaw, a motion that made Jaskier moan and cling to his witcher. He tongued the spot, earning a few more mewls before he bit down hard. This elicited a cry, half of pain, half of pleasure, as Geralt sucked and bit on the sensitive flesh. He kept up until Jaskier was almost crying and let go with a wet pop. It was already turning colors. Geralt grinned. It was in a spot where even his highest collars wouldn't cover, and it was sure to be there for weeks, just as requested.
Maybe next time he'd leave more marks on his bard, but for now he just wanted to be buried to the hilt inside him. So he stepped off the bed to fetch a bottle of oil he kept in his saddlebag. While he dug in the pack, he glanced back at his bard, who was leaning up on his elbows to watch. This was the first time Geralt had seen Jaskier's body properly and almost forgot what he was doing. Under all those fancy clothes, his bard was stronger than he looked. He could see soft skin pulled tight over compact muscles, the kind you'd seen on a swimmer or a dancer. It left Jaskier lithe and skinny with legs for days gods he wanted those legs locked around his hips-
His hand found his prize as his fingers closed around the bottle of oil and in two large strides he was back at the bed, crawling on top of his breathless bard and capturing his lips into another desperate kiss. This was much like their first, a distraction to keep his bard pliable while he poured some oil on his fingers and circled one around the bard's entrance. It earned a mewl from the brunet that egged him on, and without much fanfare shoved two fingers inside him. Jaskier's cry of pain made him still, and he looked upon his lover's face to see it scrunched in pain or a moment before he let go of the breath he was holding and grabbed Geralt's face.
"I don't need you to be gentle," Jaskier growled, "I need you to fuck me as hard as you can."
Geralt let out a low chuckle at that, and it sent a shiver down Jaskier's spine. "Are you sure about that, little bard?"
Was he? He'd seen Geralt's strength on the battlefield, he'd seen the whores he bedded when they were done, he'd heard the stories, he knew full well what this man was capable of. Did he really want all that strength and anger pointed directly at him?
"Gods yes," Jaskier breathed, pouring the oil on his own hand and stroking Geralt's member, getting it nice and slick and ready. "Please, Geralt, please, don't make me wait anymore. I need you."
"Need what?" Geralt asked, slowly pumping his fingers inside the bard. It's not that he didn't want to answer his bard's need, the tight heat around his fingers was so enticing, but he liked listening to him beg. "Use your eloquent words, little bard."
"Shit, I want your cock to fuck my asshole till I bleed! That eloquent enough for you?!" Jaskier's frustrated voice cried out as he flopped onto the bed, scrubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.
"Careful what you wish for," Geralt purred, pulling his fingers out. Jaskeir whimpered, trying to buck his hips up but Geralt's strong hand kept him firmly on the bed.
There had been enough waiting. Need pulled at him, and Geralt hooked one of Jaskier's legs over his shoulder, bringing the other to wrap around his hip. It was all the warning his bard got before Geralt thrust himself inside, ignoring the pained whine of his lover and burying himself fully inside that tight, delicious heat. He didn't give Jaskier any time to adjust, wasn't going to be gentle, and started an unrelenting pace as he slammed into his bard over and over and over. He felt more than heard the screams ripped from Jaskier's lips since his own heart was pounding so loudly in his ears he couldn't actually hear anything. But he could see Jaskier vibrating and shaking beneath his onslaught. It egged him on to do more, to ruin this bard with his cock. And there Jaskier was, taking every inch, every thrust, and still he reached out or Geralt, to pull him closer, wanting to feel his entire body pressed against him. Geralt was happy to indulge him, leaning over his bard until their chests were pressed together and they moved as one, gasping and moaning together, their breaths mingling together.
It was all terribly intimate.
Thankfully Geralt didn't have a chance to linger on that thought. He felt his climax coming fast, and from the look on Jaskier's face, he wasn't far behind either. Amazing, Geralt thought, what this bard could do to him. He wormed his way into his life and now his bed and he'd be damned if he was going to let him leave now that he'd had a taste-
He came far too fast, too hard, and felt Jaskier clench and quiver around him as he followed. Geralt's world went white, and then black.
Geralt woke first, the sun streaming right into his eyes and rousing him from a gentle slumber. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well. The bed was warm, his body was relaxed, but there was something digging into his armpit that he didn't like. When he looked over to see what it was, he froze in place. His rising had been so easy that the memories didn't return until he saw Jaskier's peaceful face still asleep and nuzzled into his chest. It didn't explain what was digging into his armpit, but he could almost forget about that as he pushed a bit of hair out of his eyes and traced a finger down his jaw. Jaskier was handsome, there was never any doubt, but something about seeing him like this, after everything, he looked almost ethereal. And there they were, and Geralt was warm, and the thing in his armpit wasn't so annoying anymore, so maybe he could slip back to sleep for a while longer.
Jaskier didn't get hungover. Most days it was a blessing, but this morning it was a curse. He woke up slowly, praying for a blasting headache that he knew would never come. Part of him didn't want to remember the night before, but it all flooded back unbidden as he lay there and took stock of himself. He could feel Geralt's arm wrapped around him, he was laying on the witcher's chest, and he could hear that slow and steady heartbeat. It almost lulled him back to sleep. But he could feel Geralt's breathing change and knew he'd been caught. So he opened his eyes and looked up, blue caught into gold in a second.
"Morning," Geralt muttered, his voice low and raspy, that 'I just woke up' voice that Jaskier had come to know so well. Usually it was telling him to shut up. He liked this change.
"Mmmm," Jaskier groaned, nuzzling into Geralt's chest once more. He considered playing hungover and blacked out, but he knew his witcher would see through it in an instant. "Five more minutes?"
"Five more minutes," Geralt nodded, closing his eyes again. But that stinging was getting annoying again, so he tried to see what it was. Jaskier's head was blocking the way, but he saw a glint of a silver chain around his bard's neck. Had that always been there? He reached over, realizing it was the pendant that was annoying him, and pulled it around the chain so he could see what it was. It was a tiny little marigold etched into a round silver plate. Odd, Geralt never thought Jaskier one for frivolous jewelry. Frivolous clothing, yes, but jewelry not so much. He felt something on the back of the pendant and flipped it over. The rune of Mannaz was etched into the other side. "What's this?"
"A trinket," Jaskier huffed, reaching up to take it from Geralt's hands and away from his sight. "Should we talk… about last night?"
"What about?" Geralt asked, amused.
"What does it mean? Anything? Nothing?" Jaskier shrugged, his tone aloof. Really he was putting his heart on the line and hoping that Geralt didn't stomp on it.
"It means…" Geralt started, flipping Jaskier onto his back again, "that now I've a taste of you, I'm going to want another every night."
A surprised giggle got drowned in a kiss and the two rocked together as the kiss turned heated. Jaskier knew this was a bad idea. Sooner or later he was going to get hurt. But for now he was going to enjoy this. Not every day he got to fuck to a witcher. Because that's all this was. Just sex.
It didn't matter that Jaskier had fallen in love the first moment he saw Geralt.
AN: I hope you all enjoyed~ Feedback is appreciated. And I wouldn't say no to someone volunteering to be a Beta for me. 3
