Chapter 5: King Lannamar
Geralt watched the bard curiously. He had been awake for over an hour in their bedroll, and he was just staring up at the morning sky. He had gotten up even earlier to catch them breakfast, and he was currently cooking a hare over the flame as Jaskier continued to watch the clouds.
The witcher's eyes traveled up the only half covered frame, frowning at the mess he had left on his neck. Had he been too rough, was that the problem? Was Jaskier regretting it now that he knew what it was like to be with him? Though, that wasn't necessarily true. He had never been as rough with Yennefer. He had never taken any of the whores like he had taken his bard. Never felt the need to brand himself on their flesh.
Jaskier was different.
Jaskier was flippant, and easy to anger.
He changed lovers, like a woman changed her hair.
"Are you hungry?" he questioned, over pretending to not know the other was awake. Jaskier didn't move, continuing to stare up at the sky. Geralt frowned at the behavior, not liking how quiet the bard was being. Had he wronged him? The other had fallen asleep pressed against his chest. He hadn't seemed upset, though, perhaps that had all been the adrenaline of the act itself. "Jas?" Jaskier did look over at him at that, grey eyes studying him by the fire. Geralt raised an eyebrow in question, pulling the hare from the flames as he waved it towards him.
"Witcher?" Jaskier questioned, and his voice was timid, almost trembling.
"Bard?" Geralt asked right back, taking a bite of the meat, and licking the grease from his lips.
Jaskier sighed at that, sitting up and reaching down to do up the ties to his trousers. He pushed up still shirtless, walking over slowly to where Geralt was standing. He watched as Jaskier's fingers twitched at his sides, lifting slightly as if to reach out, before falling back to his side. "I'll get some water."
Geralt frowned again, putting down the rabbit, before he yanked the bard's arm to him, his other hand clasping the back of his hair as he pulled him down to his lips. Jaskier immediately melted into him, arms wrapping around him as the bard's talented tongue pushed into his mouth. Jaskier still smelled like him. His scent was etched into his skin, and Geralt moaned possessively at the thought as he pulled the other into his lap.
Jaskier's skin was softer than most women he'd bedded. He smelled better too, that clove oil saturating his pores. His hand spanned up that creamy back, ending with cupping the back of the other's thighs as he encouraged the way he rolled his hips.
When he pulled back he smiled faintly at the way the bard's eyes were still shut, breathless and wanting from just a kiss. "Good morning," he managed to say, before Jaskier lunged back forward to kiss him again.
The musician's hands tangled in his hair as he slowly pulled away, laying their foreheads together. "Good morning," he replied, smiling as he stared without fear into his yellow eyes. "Does this mean I get to ride on Roach with you today?"
Geralt's hands rubbed along his thighs, to grip the ass he had been buried in the night before. "If you think you can stand it."
He sighed as Jaskier lazily kissed him again, the bard affectionate when he was happy. "I can stand it," he managed, punctuating the statement with a roll of his hips.
His yellow eyes examined Jaskier, trying to read his mind as he encouraged the heated roles of those hips. "Are we okay?" The hips stopped, and Geralt frowned as he saw those lust filled eyes turn distant.
"Right," Jaskier smiled at him, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. "Your penance."
The bard slipped off his lap, and Geralt frowned as he turned away from him, scrambling for his tunic. "Jas?" he questioned as the musician began to hum. "Jaskier?"
"We need to get going, right?" the bard asked, beginning to roll up the one bed roll they had found the need to use last night. "Murderous kings aren't going to stop themselves."
Geralt decided not to push it, having experienced more than a few times what it meant when he pushed Jaskier's moods over the edge. "I'll finish," he stated, handing over the rest of the rabbit. The command to eat left unspoken between them, just like whatever it was that was going through Jaskier's mind.
When they were finished packing Geralt watched in amusement the way the musician watched Roach questioningly. "Think she's going to bite you?" he mused, coming to stand behind him, hands gripping his hips as he leaned down to kiss along his bruised neck. He smirked at the way Jaskier shuddered with desire against him.
"I could walk…" he started, before Geralt lifted him by the hips and pushed him up onto Roach.
The other was sputtering as he righted himself on the horse, so Geralt took that time to gracefully mount himself behind him, kicking off before he had a chance to argue. He let the silence grow between them for over an hour, before finally growling in frustration. He yanked the other close, one hand on the reins, and the other on Jaskier's thigh as he leaned down into his ear. "I hesitate to ask this, but what exactly is your problem?"
Jaskier inhaled, as if hesitating with himself, fingertips tracing along Geralt's hand on his thigh. "It's fine you know. You don't have to do this to earn my forgiveness. I put up a big stink about it, but you know...well you know…"
"That you're confusing?" Geralt questioned, thumb swiping along his inner thigh. "I was aware."
The bard finally smiled for the first time that morning, shaking his head. "I'm not, truly I'm not. It's very obvious, isn't it?" he glanced back at him, free hand petting Roach's mane. "If it was just a pity fuck, than I'm okay with that. I never hoped to even get this much from you, but you don't have to keep trying. I would have forgiven you without getting the honor of your well endowed witcher skills."
"You think I fucked you last night to get you to forgive me?" Geralt actually laughed, pulling him closer. "You're an idiot, bard."
"So," Jaskier started after a while, looking straight forward as the back of his neck reddened. "To be clear. Will it happen again?"
"Will I fuck you again?" Geralt asked, just to make sure they were being clear as Jaskier's neck got even redder. "Shy? Really? After the filth coming out of your mouth last night?" He raised an eyebrow as he felt Jaskier's cock twitch next to his palm.
Geralt slowed Roach to a trot, keeping one hand tight on the reins, before letting his other hand loosen up Jaskier's trousers and slip inside as he grabbed for that hardening cock.
The bard reacted immediately, arching that back up against him as hands wrapped around his neck from behind. "Geralt…" that perfect throat moaned, and the witcher took the ample space offered up to him to bite at the already bruised flesh as his hand began to pump in his trousers.
He steered the reins to the side of the road as Roach whinnied with her disapproval. His hand pumped faster in those pants as they came to a stop. He slid off the horse, hands coming off the bard only long enough for the other to pounce on him to get off the horse.
He caught Jaskier mid leap, their mouths crashing almost violently together as the musician's legs wrapped tight on his hips. Lust consumed his thought process as he glanced around to the wooded area they were traveling on, stumbling towards the nearest tree and slamming Jaskier roughly against it.
Jaskier, for his part, didn't seem to mind as he pulled Geralt back to his mouth, kissing desperately as his nails dug into his back. His hands wrapped around those legs, ripping them off of him and setting the other down for only long enough to rip those pants down passed his skinny waist, before hefting him back up onto his hips.
He worked between their bodies, his hand slightly trapped as he pulled out his own cock, meeting those lust filled grey eyes as he positioned himself between his thighs. He kissed apologies onto Jaskier's lips as he couldn't wait to prepare him as he pushed all the way in to the hilt.
Jaskier broke apart from the kiss at that, mouth falling open in surprise as he adjusted, but Geralt didn't want to waste another second, couldn't stop himself from pulling out and plunging in yet again as he slammed him up against the tree.
"Okay?" he asked his bard, finding the spot on his neck to bite again as his hips began to pump into that tight hole, pleasure spiking through him.
"Okay," Jaskier echoed, a keening moan leaving him as he threw his head back. He glanced down, watching his cock going into the other, wanting to claim him. Wanting to mark him as he had never felt this way about any of the women he had ever taken in his hundred years.
Jaskier ripped at his hair to get him back to his mouth, and Geralt obeyed, hips continuing to piston inside him as they rutted against his tree just barely off the trail. He couldn't think about how foolish it was to do this out in the open. He couldn't consider what it meant that he literally hadn't been able to keep his hands off of him for a single day on the trail. Hell, they had only made it about an hour.
He'd be sure to fuck Jaskier before they got on the horse from now on.
He slammed into him a few more times, before emptying himself like an excited teenager who couldn't last more than a few minutes. He was actually surprised he had lasted as long as he had, needing to cum the moment Jaskier had allowed him to grab his cock.
Glancing between them, the sticky mess told him the bard had cum, as did the clenched muscles, and the absolute look of bliss on that face as he continued to pump his hips. He leaned in then, making sure to draw Jaskier's blown pupils to meet his. "It's going to happen again," he stated.
Jaskier gave a shaky laugh, motioning between them. "Yeah witcher, I noticed."
Jaskier slammed two beers in front of Geralt, sliding down in front of him as he looked around. "Which one is he?" They had been traveling for four days, and had finally arrived in Novigrad. Things between them had been...well...heated. He thought about their nights they had spent on the road where he had fallen asleep with the witcher's cock still inside him, absolutely exhausted from a marathon session. Or to the morning he had woken up to Geralt laying kissies along the back of his ear almost sweetly, or to the way they sometimes kissed like there was no one else in the world.
"The one at the bar," Geralt answered, eyes hard and locked on the man he had motioned to with a slight tilt of his chin. "Dressed like a peasant to avoid notice."
"Huh…" Jaskier remarked, eyes roaming over this supposed king. "He's younger than I thought." King Lannamar had sandy blond hair, pale skin, and the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen. His body was fit, even under the peasant rags he was wearing. His jaw was strong, dignified. "He's gorgeous. Hang on," Jaskier glanced confused over at Geralt. "King Lannamar should be in his late forties, right?" He had ruled over Novigrad since his father had been killed in battle with Cintra.
"56 to be exact," Geralt pointed out, eyes still fixed on Lannamar.
"No way," Jaskier shook his head in disbelief. "That can't be him, Geralt. That man can't be out of his twenties."
"You're one to speak on how a person should age." Geralt remarked, and Jaskier turned to him in question.
"Huh?" he asked in confusion, the confusion growing as he saw the way the witcher slowly shook his head.
"Nevermind, bard."
"So, he comes to the pub, picks up a lady, and then they disappear?" Jaskier questioned, not understanding what Geralt was implying, and so choosing to move on from it.
"That's the rumor."
"And he's seeking someone to help him woo his queen?" He shrugged. "Well, no time like the present." He grabbed for his lute and beer, smiling playfully at Geralt as he slipped out of the booth.
"Jaskier!" He heard hissed from behind him, but he had already strummed his lute and began to play.
"Ah De Do Ah De Do Da Day, Ah De Do Ah De A. He whistled and he sang till the green woods rang, and he won the heart of a lady."
Jaskier sang an entire set, the bar lightening up as the drink flowed and the music spread. He had just gotten done with the Last Rose of Cintra, when his throat was too parched to continue, and he had seen he had caught the eye of the man he had come to meet.
He was panting by the time he got to the bar, wiping at his brow as he flung his lute over his shoulder, trying to catch the barkeep's eyes. "Can you believe that?"
"What?" Lannamar asked, looking at him in question. He was tall like Geralt, though lean where his witcher was all muscles.
"I entertain the bar, and I can't even get myself a proper drink." He motioned to the one in front of the king. "You don't seem to have that problem. Mind compelling me one of my own?"
"Sorry," the king spoke, voice apologetic. "I've barely the coin for my own drink."
"Oh?" Jaskier questioned. "Do you leave it all back at home then, along with your fancy clothes?" Lannamar stiffened, and Jaskier made sure to shoot him his very best disarming smile. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
"You're mistaken," the king tried, causing Jaskier to snort in disbelief.
"Oh, I'm really not." He motioned down to himself. "Look at me, do you think I dress this way, and still don't know how to spot royalty? Who do you think pays for all the silk?"
Blue eyes traveled along his frame. "You're very bold."
"I'm a musician," Jaskier replied, as if that were explanation enough. "So about that drink?"
Lannamar's mouth was slightly agape as he watched him, before shifting in his stool and ordering two more. Jaskier placed two crowns in front of the barkeep from his performance. "Keep em coming." When he looked over to see Lannamar raising a brow in question he felt the need to give an explanation. "I'm parched." He shrugged. "Drink up and be merry, tis a good night to be alive." he stated, cheersing with the king.
Jaskier downed half his ale out of thirst, smiling warmly at Lannamar as he tried not to think about the fact that Geralt had told him he was responsible for dozens of missing villagers. "So why the get up?" he asked, having a feeling the answer wouldn't be murder.
The king looked down at himself, frowning as he seemed to consider how much to tell him. "You wouldn't understand."
"That's a cop out," Jaskier replied. "You going to tell me that because you're royal, and I'm not, that I couldn't possibly understand the need to escape?" He swung his lute around, strumming along the strings. "What do you think all this is about?"
"And what could you possibly have to escape from….Dandelion, was it?" the king asked, and Jaskier knew he had him on the hook.
He sighed, sinking down on a stool next to him as he placed his chin in both his palms. "Unrequited love mostly," he said with a sigh. "I write about the things I shall never have. Sometimes I even write well enough to fool my way into it from time to time."
"Into it?" Lannamar asked in question.
"Love," Jaskier grinned. "Sometimes it even feels real, but there's really only ever been the one."
"It didn't work out?" Lannamar grabbed a pitcher, refilling his drink.
Jaskier shrugged, eyes flickering across the room to where Geralt was sitting, finding him missing as he must have gone off for a bath upstairs. Jaskier had bought it for him when they had gotten here.
"Still deciding," he replied. "What about you? What kind of women do kings fall in love with?"
"That's a novel idea," Lannamar replied. "A king marrying for love."
"For position then," Jaskier shrugged. "You must still get somewhat of a choice in courting the desired specimen."
Lannmar tilted his head, his shaggy blond hair falling along his ear. "Suppose I do. Suppose you already knew that though." He took a drink, the foam sticking to his upper lip. "You've heard about my problem, I gather?"
"I'm good at solving problems," Jaskier replied, eyes locked with those bright blue depths.
"I'm sure you're good at many things," Lannamar surmised. "Did you write all those songs you were singing?"
"Every one," Jaskier assured him.
"And they were about the one you love?" Lannamar asked, curiosity sparked in his eyes.
"The one I love? All the songs I write are about him." he said without shame.
"Him?" Lannamar replied with surprise. "Bold of you to say so."
"Musician," Jaskier replied again in explanation.
Lannamar snorted into his drink, flashing him a brilliant grin that Jaskier was sure all of the people who served him quelled under. "I like you."
Jaskier bowed. "Thank you sire, as it happens, I'm quite likable."
"Drink with me tonight. I find myself longing for conversation with someone who doesn't just try to kiss my ass...even if you do happen to be angling for a job."
"Always angling for something," Jaskier assured him, holding up his glass. "But I promise you my wittiest conversation, in return for your favor."
"My favor you have already," Lannamar replied. "My trust you'll have to earn before I hire you for the job."
"I haven't told anyone here who you are, does that not earn me the slightest bit of trust?" Jaskier questioned.
"The slightest," Lannamar agreed. "But you'll have to do better than that." Lannamar raised his mug. "To new friends?"
Jaskier gave his best seductive grin, holding up his own glass. "To poetry that makes a heart bloom, and the kingdom of Novigrad move in the right direction."
By the time Jaskier stumbled up the stairs to their room he was well and stinking drunk. He had gone beyond the point of the giggly stage, and had well entered the drooling sex stage that always seemed to get him in trouble.
He slammed open the door to their room a little more loudly than he had meant, practically falling over as he did as he was stifling his laughter. Well...not quite out of the giggling stage it would seem. He struggled to get out of his clothes, throwing a boot across the room, actually falling as he worked on the second. He popped up a second later, grinning from ear to ear at the way Geralt was glowering at him.
"I"m okay, don't worry!" He doubted the look of contempt was concern, but you could never be too sure at times like these. He slipped out of his pants, unlacing his shirt as he slipped it over his head as well. He was still smirking as he crawled into the bed, ignoring how stiff Geralt was as he crawled on top of him, seeking out his lips.
"Ow ow ow!" he cried out as Geralt ripped him away by the hair. "I'm sensitive!"
"You're truly something," Geralt agreed, and Jaskier blinked confused at him as his voice was cold as ice.
"I'm sorry I woke you," Jaskier tried, face lilting in a pout as he leaned back in, one hand working to pry the fingers out of his hair as he kissed his regret along that strong jaw set into a hard line. "You smell so good...Your hair smells like vanilla." He buried his face in the witcher's neck, sucking on his pulse as his hand traveled underneath the sheet.
His hand was ripped from under the sheet before it could reach its target, Geralt yanking him again up by his hair. "Ow!" he barked again, shoving up by pressing against his chest. "Okay I get it…no touching." He sat up on the other's hips. "What's wrong?" The death glare he received caused a bit more sobriety to fill his veins. "Wolf?" he asked, leaning down without being able to help himself, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "I'm sorry I woke you."
"Do you actually think this is about being woken up?" Geralt questioned, ripping him up again so he could stare into bleary drunk eyes.
"Maybe?" Jaskier asked, pushing up again, fingers tracing along a jagged scar along Geralt's chest.
"How's Lannamar?" Geralt questioned with a frown, and Jaskier had a feeling he was walking into a trap, he just didn't know which one.
"Fine?" he replied nervously, thumb flicking over Geralt's nipple, and watching a vein twitch in his neck in response. "I was invited to the castle tomorrow."
He actually swallowed in fear as Geralt bared sharp teeth at him, his eyes flashing gold. "Oh, I bet you were."
Jaskier looked from side to side, utterly confused now. "Geralt? Is that not what you wanted me to do?" He had done what the witcher had asked. He had won the king's trust for the poetry writing job.
"Get off me," Geralt bit out, leaving Jaskier to stare down dumbfounded.
"What?" Insecurity bubbled up his spine. "What did I do wrong exactly?"
"Get. Off. Me." Geralt repeated through clenched teeth. "I won't ask again."
"You're angry with me for Lannamar?" Jaskier asked in confusion. "I was doing what you asked of me."
"I know," Geralt bit out, glaring up at him.
"You asked me to get myself hired!" Jaskier exclaimed, stomach twisted with anxiety as he knew he had messed up. He had been walking on eggshells the entire week they had traveled. He had done everything possible to not annoy the witcher. He had been dreading the day it was no longer a novel idea to fuck him.
"I said I know!" Geralt snapped. Hands coming to his hips to rip him off, but Jaskier covered his hands, digging his knees down into the witcher's biceps.
"You're jealous?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as Geralt didn't deny it. "It was an act! Of course it was an act! That's what I do, witcher, I act!"
"Do you?" Geralt questioned back bitterly. "Good to know."
"Not with you," Jaskier blurted out, letting something slip that he would never dare say sober. "I don't act with you. I adore you."
The hands on his hips had loosened, but Geralt's face was still a mask of ice. "This was a mistake."
It was like ice water had been poured down his spine. He bit his bottom lip to hide the pain, feeling more than a little foolish as he scrambled back and off of the man. "I'm such an idiot." He had let himself slip. He knew better than to show his desperation for the man. He knew better than to tell him how he felt.
"Bard," Geralt spoke from the bed, and Jaskier flinched as he only ever called him that in rebuke. "Don't go."
Jaskier froze, clothes pressed to his chest in a bunch as his foot was halfway inside a boot. "Why?" he questioned, back to the witcher.
Geralt was silent for a long time as Jaskier pulled on his trousers over his half on boots. "We only have the one room." Jaskier felt like the air had been knocked out of him, letting out a gasp of disbelief.
"Don't worry butcher, I have coin enough for another." He didn't dare look back as he refused to show his pain over something so stupid. He refused to show his pain over letting himself be comfortable, and knowing he could never be enough for his witcher.
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