Basically just porn. Enjoy!
A Helping Hand
Geralt pushed open the heavy wooden door of the tavern with a sigh. Ignoring the chattering patrons, he trudged straight across the bar room and up the stairs towards the room that he and Jaskier had hired for the night. All he wanted was a long sleep, and possibly to soak in a bath and ease the bruises that were appearing all over his body following a difficult fight against the aggressive chort that had been hounding the village.
He felt exhausted, and the chort's heavy clawed foot had landed a solid hit to the side of his head, leaving his ears ringing; this must have been why, he thought to himself later, he hadn't noticed the telltale sounds before he opened the door to his and Jaskier's shared room.
The familiar, musky smell, though, hit him as soon as he opened the door, and all of his senses focussed in on the man on the bed.
"Gods, Jaskier!" Geralt burst out in shock as his brain caught up with what he was seeing. Jaskier was spread out on the bed, on his own side rather than Geralt's at least (thank god, Geralt thought to himself), still dressed but with his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a trail of hair from the base of his throat, down over his pert and flushed nipples, to his navel. His trousers were open and pushed low so that his hipbones jutted out enticingly, and between them Geralt could just see the tip of Jaskier's cock as it thrust up past his palm as he gripped it tight, his hand moving fast as his hips rolled in pleasure.
Jaskier's face was flushed and beaded with sweat. He hadn't noticed the door open, but his eyes flew open at Geralt's sudden exclamation and he looked over at the doorway in shock.
"Geralt! Oh gods, you're back quickly! Gods, sorry, I'm sorry, I, I'm so c-close, I can't stop, can you give me a minute? Umph," Jaskier's eyes closed and he tipped his head back, swallowing thickly. Then his eyes slid open again and he glanced at Geralt consideringly. "Or maybe… could you…give me a hand?" he asked.
"A…what?" Geralt asked incredulously.
"A hand. You know, with this," Jaskier indicated where he was still furiously jerking himself off. "No worries if you'd rather not. Might – might be too late now anyway- oh god!" he moaned, and his back arched off the bed.
Geralt yanked the door shut, cutting off Jaskier's moans, but not before he caught the salty scent of his release.
Leaving Jaskier to his privacy, Geralt spent the night on the hay beside Roach instead. Come the morning, he pulled himself to his feet, his body aching all over, a night in the stables certainly not helping the bruising. Heading indoors, he found Jaskier already eating breakfast. Joining him at the table, he helped himself to a piece of bread from Jaskier's plate and tore off a bite.
Despite his own resolve never to mention what had happened the previous night, unfortunately Jaskier didn't have the same idea.
"Sorry again about last night, Geralt! I really didn't expect you to be back so soon, or of course I never would have done that! Or, well, I probably would have to be honest, but just made sure I finished sooner, haha!" Jaskier chortled, clearly in good spirits after his night of pleasure. Geralt merely rolled his eyes and grunted in reply.
After a pause, and in fact against his better judgement, he felt compelled to ask about Jaskier's request for a helping hand.
"Of course I meant it," Jaskier blinked at him in surprise. "Sometimes a helping hand is exactly what you need to tip you over the edge, you know."
"But you wanted me to help?" Geralt asked disbelievingly.
"Sure, why not? I mean, you must have done it with other people, with the other witchers at least, right? All of you together in the long winter months, nothing else otherwise except your own hand… you must have had the odd fumble together, surely?"
Geralt's expression had turned pained as he listened. "They're my brothers, Jaskier, of course not!"
Jaskier pulled a face. "Well. Brothers of a kind, not blood though, so what's the problem? But fine then, not them, but surely you've helped a friend out, or they've helped you?"
"There are services available for those situations."
"Yes, but you do have to pay for those! Really, Geralt, I know you've got a lot of experience under your belt yourself, I'm really surprised this is such a shock to you!"
"So I suppose in that case that you've had a lot of experience of coming across someone who needs a helping hand?"
"Yep!" Jaskier replied bluntly, sitting back with a grin. "It was just the done thing when I was studying in Oxenfurt, we all had our hands stuffed down each other's trousers, practically constantly! A pretty handy tactic actually, if you needed to persuade a teacher to raise your grades a bit."
Geralt rolled his eyes again. "What a fine education," he remarked drily.
Jaskier leaned forwards, concern on his face. He reached his hand towards Geralt, but stopped short of touching him. "Geralt, I'm sorry if I've offended you. I meant it last night when I said it's fine if you didn't want to do anything, I wasn't expecting anything of you; whatever you want, it's all fine. Let's just forget about it, shall we?"
Geralt frowned, and looked clearly into Jaskier's eyes. "I'm not offended, Jaskier, like you said, I'm no prude myself. I just was surprised that you would want help from me, that's all."
"Why wouldn't I appreciate your help? After all," Jaskier leaned even closer to Geralt across the table and gave him a wink, before dropping his gaze slowly down to Geralt's hands as they rested on the table. "I bet those big, strong hands would feel like bliss wrapped tight around-"
He was cut off as Geralt shot to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor, raised an eyebrow at Jaskier and practically barked, "Time to go, Jaskier. Get your things and meet me in the stables."
He strode out of the tavern, rolling his eyes as he heard Jaskier laughing loudly behind him.
Geralt re-entered the village on foot through the main gate, leading Roach by the rein towards the Alderman's house. Slung across Roach's back was the bloody carcass of the warg that he had been contracted to kill; the Alderman had requested proof of the killing, and the pelt would fetch a reasonable price itself too.
As he walked through the cobbled streets, he could hear a commotion off the main square, men's voices shouting, a woman shrieking, the sound of a stall or cart being knocked over and feet pounding on the cobblestones. Sticking close to the edge of the houses, he moved cautiously into the square and looked around.
Suddenly, tearing around the corner from a road to the right came Jaskier, stumbling over his own feet as he twisted around to check on the two clearly furious men chasing after him. Backing up, his chest heaving for breath, Jaskier held his hands out in front of himself and called out to them, attempting to placate them. The men slowed down, but didn't look to be appeased, their round, red faces scowling and hands clenching into fists. Jaskier seemed to realise that his attempt to calm them wasn't working as they started to edge in different directions as if to surround him, and he began to glance around himself for a way out.
Geralt sighed. This scenario was becoming a fairly regular occurrence, to his annoyance. Resigning himself to losing his payment, he tossed the warg's body off Roach's back, hopped up and gave a loud whistle.
Recognising their signal, Jaskier's head snapped towards Geralt and a look of relief flashed across his face. Evading the two men, he managed to sprint across the square to where Geralt was waiting, accepted a hand up onto Roach behind Geralt, and then the two of them were galloping back through the town, out of the gate and into the fields beyond as the villagers cursed behind them.
Once they had gone far enough from the village, Geralt slowed Roach down to a trot. He was feeling quite cross about losing his contract, and said as much to Jaskier, who was at least very apologetic. They rode on a bit further in silence, coming up to a small wooded area along the side of the fields, and Geralt guided Roach along the edge of the woods to get some shade from the sun.
Jaskier was very quiet behind him, though he still seemed a bit breathless from the running, and he kept wriggling in his seat.
"Jaskier!" Geralt barked suddenly, "Would you stop moving?"
"I can't," Jaskier replied quietly, in a breathless tone. "Actually, can we stop a minute?"
"Why?"
"Geralt, just stop a minute. I need to get down."
Geralt huffed, but pulled Roach to a stop and twisted around to watch as Jaskier got down. He'd not had a chance to notice earlier, but now that he looked properly, he saw that Jaskier's fine clothing was in disarray, his shirt half-buttoned and only partially tucked into his trousers, his boots unlaced, and the sleeve of his jacket was actually slightly torn at the shoulder. "Gods, Jaskier, what on earth have you been up to?" he chuckled incredulously.
"Just a bit of fun!" Jaskier replied.
"Yes, those two men looked like they were having a great day. You got caught with one of their wives again, didn't you?"
"Both of their wives, actually," Jaskier winked. "And they interrupted us at a most inconvenient moment. I can't quite…relax now, if you know what I mean. I'm just going to pop in there for a quick minute," he nodded towards the woods, "so just wait and I'll be back." Jaskier started walking briskly into the trees, leaving Geralt looking gobsmacked. "I'm sure I won't be long!"
Geralt harrumphed and very deliberately turned his back on Jaskier's departing figure, moving a little further away to give him more privacy. Slipping down off Roach's back, he perched on a fallen tree log and turned to Roach with a scowl. "Can you believe him? Going into the woods to finish himself off like that?" he murmured to the horse with a shake of his head. Roach gave a snuffle, and wandered a few feet away to munch on some weeds.
Geralt began to stretch out his arms, his muscles feeling a bit sore after fighting the warg, when he froze; cutting into the silence around them came the soft sounds of panting breaths and smothered moans, barely more than a whisper, such that an ordinary man would never have been able to hear, but which Geralt, with his heightened witcher senses, could just pick out over the rustle of the wind in the trees.
He suddenly realised that he was holding his breath, his body tense, and he forced himself to lower his shoulders and relax, letting out a long and unsteady breath. Breathing in slowly, he flinched as his sensitive nose caught the scent of desire on the air, and his cock twitched in unconscious response. His fists clenched as he ground his teeth, ducking his head and breathing shallowly through his mouth. This situation was unbelievable! Not only was Jaskier masturbating only meters away in the woods, but he, Geralt, was getting turned on from it!
Geralt sprang up from his seat and walked a few paces to put a bit more distance between him and Jaskier. The scent of sex faded away, but Jaskier was clearly getting close to his finish as Geralt could still catch the sound of his moans of pleasure which were becoming louder, more desperate and urgent by the minute. His own breath quickened and he couldn't resist palming the growing hardness in his trousers, before snatching his hand away with a curse.
Suddenly angry, he spun on his heel and marched to the edge of the woods. "Jaskier! Hurry up and finish and get out here!" he roared. At his words, within the woods Jaskier's breath hitched; Geralt heard him cry out and a few seconds later caught the scent of his release on the air. Geralt's body shuddered and he gave himself a gentle squeeze, his cock rock hard under his hand.
The sound of rustling clothes as Jaskier pulled himself together jerked Geralt back to awareness and he quickly returned to Roach and pulled himself onto her back, adjusting himself in the saddle for comfort just in time for Jaskier to stumble out of the woods, looking both sated and a bit sheepish.
"Sorry about that," he laughed, shrugging apologetically at the glare on Geralt's face. Now that they were well away from the village and with all that he'd just had to put up with, Geralt felt no guilt at all for guiding Roach into a brisk walk and leaving Jaskier to trot behind.
The next village was a good few miles away, and by the time Geralt and Jaskier arrived, both were tired and hungry. Making their way to the inn, they enquired about staying for the night and found that, pooling their money, they only just had enough for dinner and one room for both of them. If he had only been able to collect on the warg contract, they would have had more than plenty for a room each over several nights, Geralt thought to himself, pursing his lips.
Having eaten, they headed upstairs. Opening the door to their shared room, Geralt heaved a sigh when he saw that there was also only one bed, a double at least, but still a narrow one. Jaskier, ever positive, strode across to the window to admire the view over the square, then turned and perched on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots, still chattering away.
Geralt slowly closed the door behind him and began stripping off his boots and armour, in preparation for bed. Turning to face the bed, he paused when he saw Jaskier already climbing under the covers in only his trousers.
"You're in bed quickly," he remarked drily, "Tired after the exertions of the day, are you?"
Jaskier chuckled. "Pretty much," he agreed with a yawn. "As I bet are you. Hurry up and get in the bed, will you."
Geralt smirked to himself, but did as he was told and slid under the covers next to Jaskier. Lying on his back, he tucked his arm under his head and closed his eyes, trying to sleep. Although he had tried to position himself close to the edge to give Jaskier room, as the bed was narrow and his frame was wide, he could still feel Jaskier lying close to him, turned on his side towards him, their legs pressed lightly against each other. Jaskier's breath skated along the bare skin of Geralt's arm, soft and warm and tickling. Geralt suddenly had a picture in his mind of what Jaskier probably looked like at that moment, blue eyes closed, face a picture of innocence as soft hair fell over his forehead. Jaskier smelled like the outdoors, like fresh air and grass and, underneath that, something uniquely Jaskier combined with the faintest lingering scent of sex. Geralt's mind flashed back to earlier that afternoon and Jaskier's breathy moans in the woods, and his breath hitched. Several hours of riding on horseback that calmed his earlier desire, but lying in bed so close to Jaskier now he could feel it stirring again, and tried to push thoughts of Jaskier in the woods out of his mind.
Shifting in the bed, he disturbed Jaskier who gave a small groan of disapproval. "Sorry," he murmured, and his eyes slid open to take in Jaskier's face in the darkened room, wandering down to take in the broad, muscular, bare shoulders, his wiry frame, the dusting of dark hair that travelled from the base of Jaskier's throat over the expanse of his chest and disappeared down beyond the edge of the blanket at his waist. Geralt swallowed and purposely looked away, staring up at the ceiling. He balled his hands into fists at his sides, not daring to move them anywhere near the front of his body.
"Do you want a hand, Geralt?" came a low voice to his left.
Geralt snapped his head to the side, seeing Jaskier's eyes now open and watching him with a kind and open expression. "What?" he muttered gruffly, feeling short of breath.
Jaskier's eyes dropped pointedly down, and Geralt peered at where Jaskier was looking, noting with embarrassment that his arousal was tenting the blanket over them. Jaskier repeated the question gently, "Would you like a hand with that?"
Geralt pulled his legs up to hide himself. "Jaskier," he started, "it's not… I mean, I don't…"
"It's ok if the answer's no, Geralt," Jaskier reassured him. "And if you want to sort it by yourself, I can leave. But if you do want a hand… that's also fine. It doesn't have to mean anything, just one friend helping out another."
Geralt lay in silence for a long moment. It seemed like an age since anyone had last touched him… But this was Jaskier, his friend – they didn't do things like this! But Jaskier had said he'd done this with his friends all the time in the past, it wouldn't change anything between them… Maybe just this once he could help him out?
Not looking at Jaskier, Geralt gave him a curt nod of acceptance.
"OK, then," Jaskier said with a smile. "Just relax and enjoy yourself. I'll look after you."
Then Geralt felt Jaskier's hands on the buttons of his trousers, and the tight confinement vanished as Jaskier pulled his cock free. Jaskier licked a wet swipe over his own hand and then dipped it back under the blanket, wrapping his hand around Geralt's cock, causing him to gasp and tip his head back.
Jaskier started off gentle and slow, letting Geralt get accustomed to Jaskier's hand on him. Swiping his thumb over the head, Jaskier smeared Geralt's pre-cum over his hand to help lubricate it, then gripped him tighter and began to jerk him in firmer, faster motions. Geralt's eyes were closed tight, and he groaned as his thighs trembled and hips jerked in response to the pleasure. Next to him, Jaskier let slip a low moan, and Geralt opened his eyes to look at him, finding Jaskier watching him intently, lust written across his face. His heart jumped and he twisted towards Jaskier, bringing their bodies closer and reaching out to grip his hips, fingers skating over the waistband of Jaskier's trousers. Jaskier's hand on his cock faltered as his breath hitched, eyes dropping down to Geralt's mouth.
"Can I touch you?" Geralt demanded, suddenly desperate to get his hands on Jaskier too.
"Gods, yes," Jaskier answered breathlessly, and that was all Geralt needed to hear, his hand instantly snaking into Jaskier's trousers and gripping him in turn. Jaskier moaned, his head tipping forward to rest against Geralt's, and they stayed like that, breathing in each other's pants as they worked each other to completion. Geralt spilled first, the pent up desire that had been building since the afternoon finally pushing him over the edge; Jaskier had already pleasured himself earlier, but being with Geralt had quickly brought his arousal back to the surface, and with the knowledge that Geralt had climaxed from his hand, he finished only shortly after.
They lay still, trembling in each other's arms, catching their breath. Jaskier pulled his hand out from under the blanket and, before Geralt's stunned eyes, licked it clean. Geralt withdrew his own hand from Jaskier, and cleaned it off on the blanket. He didn't quite know what to say, but then Jaskier, always the better one of the two with words, laid a hand on his shoulder and said,
"That was lovely, dear Geralt, thank you. Get some rest now; and don't worry, like I said, nothing will change between us. Just know though, that if you ever need a helping hand, I'm here for you."
Jaskier turned, pulled the blanket up to his shoulder, and quickly went to sleep. Geralt lay there for some time, his mind whirring; but eventually, the pull of sleep in the quiet room, with Jaskier's gentle, rhythmic breaths beside him, drew him down and his eyes slid closed for the night.