Jaskier could hear Geralt's frustrated grunt before he slammed shut the cupboard door hurriedly. To his relief, it wasn't pitch black inside; through the thin strip of stained glass at the top of the cupboard door he could even see part of the chamber. But space was scarce. He heard Geralt's back hit the back panel of the cupboard with a thump. Jaskier had to push back so far to properly close the door that he was pressed completely against Geralt. Completely.
Jaskier had imagined a thousand ways of getting closer to Geralt, but this was not one of them. He always thought that Geralt would be an active and enthusiastic participant in the process.
But before he could further ponder his miserable situation, the footsteps, which Geralt warned him about, reached the door to the chamber. A beautiful woman with long, blond hair entered the room. Lady Agatha, the wife of the castellan.
She looked around and when she was sure that there was nobody else in her chamber, she reached into the cleavage of her dress and pulled out a bracelet. She strode to the table and opened a small chest, which was full of vials. She selected one of them, which contained a light green liquid, and uncorked it. Holding the bracelet carefully between her thumb and index finger, she allowed a few drops of the green liquid to fall on the jewel while she murmured an incantation in elder tongue. The bracelet glowed for a few moments and the translucent stone it held turned black.
Jaskier watched the scene with bated breath, but he couldn't suppress a triumphant smile, and he was sure that Geralt felt the same.
Geralt had been summoned to this court with the promise of a well-paying contract: he was supposed to hunt down a demon, which had possessed several nobles. These nobles first mysteriously disposed of their possessions and then showed signs of madness.
Geralt was quite sure that it wasn't a demon, but rather a curse. Demons weren't interested in gold and expensive jewelry, but greedy courtiers or ladies were. The problem was that they had trouble finding suspects because the curses were extremely well-disguised. Geralt and Jaskier had been searching for a week before they finally spotted one of the ladies of the court behaving suspiciously at tonight's ball. Of course, it was Jaskier's idea to have a quick look around her chamber, which, in fact, hadn't been a bad idea. They'd just found the evidence they needed, having witnessed the creation of a cursed amulet.
On the other hand, they couldn't just step out of the closet and reveal Lady Agatha's guilt. It would be their word against hers, and as the respected wife of the castellan, her word was worth a lot. Jaskier was sure that with this knowledge, they could set a trap for her, but first, they had to get out of here undetected.
Jaskier's heart started to beat faster when he saw Lady Agatha head for the cupboard. She was about to grab the handle when somebody knocked on the door. Lady Agatha flinched and hid the bracelet behind her back just before her husband stepped into the room.
"There you are!" the man exclaimed. "The duke's speech will start in a minute, and we can't miss it."
"I know my dear, just give me a moment. I'll put on my necklace, and I'll come after you immediately."
"Fine. But you better hurry up," he grumbled and left the room.
Lady Agatha let out a very irritated growl and hit the cupboard with her fist.
Jaskier winced, but successfully suppressed the squeak that wanted to slip out from his lips. He felt Geralt's grip tighten on his bicep. When did he grab his arm in the first place?
Lady Agatha stepped aside and opened the cupboard next to the one Jaskier and Geralt were hiding in and put the bracelet inside. After closing the door, she quickly muttered a spell, then trudged to the table, put on a necklace from a small jewelry box, then left the chamber hurriedly.
Jaskier managed to stay put for just half a minute before he whispered, "You don't think she's coming back, do you?" He tried to crane his head back, but all he succeeded in doing was squeezing himself even closer to Geralt. Jaskier swallowed when he realized that – since they were attending a ball – Geralt was wearing only a sleek midnight blue shirt instead of his armor, and he could feel Geralt's firm muscles underneath. Geralt let out a strained groan when Jaskier, in his sudden fluster, accidentally elbowed him in the side, even though Jaskier could have sworn his elbow had barely grazed Geralt.
"No," he answered at last.
"Good. Then let's go," Jaskier said and tried to push the door open. But to his utter horror, it didn't budge.
"Uh, Geralt..."
"What?"
"I think the door is stuck."
"Jaskier-"
"Stop with the blame game, Geralt! Believe me, I'm pushing it hard, and it won't open. Something is wrong."
Geralt grumbled again in frustration.
"How about... you give it a try?"
"I can't reach it."
"Geralt-"
"You're in the way."
"Oh, come on, just reach past me, and use your legendary witcher strength. I bet you could break the bloody door down."
Maybe it was the growing panic in Jaskier's voice that did the trick, but Geralt sighed in defeat, and then Jaskier could feel him squirm. He gasped as Geralt's hand snaked past his waist. He knew that Geralt's motion was entirely practical (as always), but it was too easy to imagine that it was a deliberate caress. Too easy and too dangerous.
"Sorry," Geralt said, apparently misunderstanding and interpreting Jaskier's gasp as discomfort.
"No, it's just – you took me by surprise."
"You asked me to do this." Jaskier could practically hear Geralt frown.
"Oh, shut it, would you, and open the damn door."
Geralt chuckled but didn't reply. Jaskier lurched a bit forward as Geralt pushed against the door. His chest pressed to the front of the cupboard, and he could feel the flexing of Geralt's muscles, which was… too pleasant. He had to get out of here before his body got the wrong idea and got too excited.
When Geralt's arm started to tremble, he knew that they were in real trouble.
"Geralt… tell me you're just messing with me."
"Hm."
"Geralt!"
"You were right. Something is wrong."
"What?! No. I was just overly dramatic. You know me. There's surely something we can do to get out."
Geralt was silent. He was no longer pushing the door, just resting his hand on it.
"Did you hear the spell?" he asked at last.
"The thing she murmured when she was standing before the other cupboard?"
"That one. It's a simple spell for magically closing things. She certainly didn't want anyone to find the bracelet."
"But she cast the spell on the other cupboard."
"We were probably still in the spell's range."
Jaskier was silent for a moment, digesting what Geralt had said, and then panic flooded him.
"Marvelous! We'll die in a closet! When she returns, she'll discover and curse us, or worse – we will suffocate slowly-"
"Jaskier"-
"Oh, what a horrible way to go-"
"Jaskier!"
Jaskier fell silent. Geralt's mouth was too close to his ear, and the way he said his name, firm and slightly hoarse, was impossible to resist.
"We won't die here. We certainly won't suffocate. There are holes at the bottom of the closet to prevent the clothes from getting moldy, so enough air gets in," he explained patiently, although his voice was a bit strained. "And when she returns, she will probably open the other cupboard, because she put the bracelet there, and there's hardly anything in this one. If we're lucky, we can sneak out at the right moment."
"And if we're not lucky?"
"Then we'll think of something."
Jaskier fell silent. Although Geralt had reassured him that the immediate threat of death was gone, there was still another problem: Geralt's proximity. Jaskier knew he had to get out of the bloody cupboard before he gave himself away. Or did something stupid. Closing his eyes and sighing pitifully, Jaskier concluded that the two might well be bound together.
He tried to look down to see the holes Geralt was talking about, and whether he could use them for some sort of escape plan, but the space was still tight. As he leaned over, his backside pressed to Geralt, and he heard a soft whimper. Did he step on the witcher's little toe? Jaskier happened to know that, contrary to popular belief, even witchers have delicate little toes. Geralt, at least, had made a sound very similar to the one he was making now when he'd accidentally kicked the foot of the solid wood bed while stacking his things in that little inn in Temeria.
Jaskier tried to turn a bit to see whether he stepped on Geralt's feet, but he lost his balance. In such a confined space it would have been impossible for him to fall, but there was just enough room to flounder helplessly between the door and Geralt's body, trying in vain to find solid ground and something to hold on to.
It was almost a relief when Geralt grunted and grabbed his flailing arms and ended his misery. Almost. But now Geralt was too close again. His breathing was quicker and more ragged than usual, and his fingers were hot and strong against Jaskier's arms, and it was too much. It would have been so much easier if this move hadn't reminded Jaskier of one of his favorite fantasies: Geralt pressing to his back, manhandling him into position, panting into his ear before…
Jaskier's cock decided to go with the program and stir at the familiar picture. Damn it. Jaskier swallowed and closed his eyes. He knew he was busted. Or at least he would be within moments. It was in their first month of traveling together that Jaskier learned that Geralt could smell desire. And this proved to be very useful knowledge once Jaskier realized that he had gradually but irredeemably fallen in love with the White Wolf. He knew that he could only fantasize about Geralt when he was alone or when they were in company, say, at a ball or a tavern. On such occasions, Geralt would only roll his eyes when he assumed that Jaskier's attention was once again attracted by a buxom barmaid or a handsome stable hand.
It was harder to mask his arousal when he was tending to Geralt's wounds or helping him with his bath, but the strong-smelling salves and essential oils had always helped. Now, however, none of these were available and there was no way he could give a reasonable explanation for his sudden excitement (how he could be scared and horny at the same time, Jaskier couldn't fathom, but here he was). And now his little secret was going to end their friendship because Geralt would either laugh at him or be repulsed by him. Or worse: awkwardly avoid him and eventually leave him.
Jaskier shuddered at the thought, and he must have started squirming again because Geralt's grip tightened on his arm, squeezing it almost painfully.
"For the gods' sake, stop wriggling!" he said through gritted teeth.
Jaskier was so immersed in his own panic that he didn't notice Geralt's distress until now. But now that he realized that something was wrong with Geralt, he pushed down his dread to fully focus on the witcher. Geralt's breathing was still ragged, his muscles too tense.
"What's wrong?" he asked. Since Jaskier had no witcher senses, to see what was wrong with Geralt, he had to actually see him. So, he tried to turn around, doing exactly what Geralt had just asked him not to do: wriggle.
And the more Jaskier wriggled, the more Geralt tensed, and he tried to squeeze himself into the back of the cupboard almost desperately. Jaskier, of course, couldn't turn around, he only managed to press his hips harder against Geralt, and...
Oh.
That was… That was Geralt's cock. Which was erect. It was poking against his hip like a brand.
Jaskier froze and almost forgot to breathe. He heard a soft thud as Geralt banged his head against the back of the cupboard, and a soft, pained sigh.
"Sorry," Geralt mumbled. "I just… can't control it."
Jaskier opened his mouth, but, strangely enough, he couldn't utter a single word.
"You weren't supposed to find out. Not like this."
"I wasn't supposed to find out?" Jaskier asked, his voice unusually small. His head was swimming with a thousand thoughts.
"I thought that if you ever showed some interest, I would tell you. If not, it would remain my secret."
"If I ever showed interest?" Jaskier, who was generally skilled with words, was now unable to do more than echo what Geralt had just said. The whole situation was so surreal.
"But you never did." There was no reproach in his voice, just disappointment. And it seemed that now that his secret was out, Geralt became uncharacteristically talkative. "You flirted with everyone but me and everyone turned you on except me. I could tell. And I thought if you found out that I… Well, I thought it might ruin our friendship. I'm sorry."
Geralt finished, and heavy silence descended on them.
Jaskier took a trembling breath. This changed everything. He wanted to cry and laugh and kiss Geralt. Instead, he said. "And what if I did? Show interest, I mean."
"I would have known."
"But what if you wouldn't?"
"Jaskier, you know very well that I can smell-"
"Close your eyes."
"What?"
"Just do it. Please."
Jaskier couldn't see whether Geralt had complied or not, but the witcher did not object, which was a good sign.
"Take a deep breath."
He could feel Geralt's chest expand, pressing into his back until it was completely puffed with air. A small gasp indicated the moment of realization, then Geralt let out a long, shuddering breath.
"You…" he began but couldn't continue.
"Yes," Jaskier said. and he felt his cheeks heating up with the strange mixture of giddiness and embarrassment. "I always tried to keep it a secret, just like you. We're such idiots."
Geralt's chest rumbled with a small chuckle, which was followed by Jaskier's small, relieved burst of laughter. As the bard relaxed, he instinctively leaned back, right into Geralt's broad chest. He felt drunk with this newfound realization, and it must have been what made him so bold: he shifted slightly to align his back with Geralt's front, tilted his head back, straight on Geralt's shoulder, and whispered, "You know, rumor has it that the duke gives terribly long speeches."
"Jaskier, you're not implying-"
"I'm just saying that we shouldn't waste a minute now that we both admitted what we want. Besides, it would probably be wise to manage this emerging situation."
"It's a terrible idea."
"Is it?" asked Jaskier and rolled his hips. The movement caused Geralt's cock to wedge into the cleft of Jaskier's arse. Geralt whimpered and his hands jerked up to grab Jaskier's hips. He couldn't push him away in the tight space, so he just stilled the motion for a moment. But Jaskier knew Geralt; he felt the lack of resolve behind the action, the uncertainty in the touch. The bard's mouth curled into a sly smile, and he rubbed his bottom against Geralt with tiny, undulating motions.
Despite the multiple layers of clothing, Jaskier felt every inch of Geralt, hard and insistent, and he could also feel his grip loosen as the last remnants of his resolve fell away.
"Come on, my dear witcher, I can feel that you want it."
Geralt moaned and gripped Jaskier's hips with renewed vigor, but instead of trying to still his movements, he pulled Jaskier closer. Jaskier cried out in surprise when Geralt bit his shoulder and muffled a grunt on it. His hips bucked desperately, shoving Jaskier forward. The bard propped himself against the front of the cupboard with his palm to gain some leverage and meet Geralt's thrusts.
"Jaskier," Geralt panted in his ear. His voice was husky and desperate and laced with something Jaskier couldn't decipher. "Don't make me…"
"Don't make you what?"
"Come in my pants like a virgin stripling."
Jaskier moaned. The thought that Geralt was so wrecked, and that Jaskier was the cause of it made him dizzy. He was close, too, even without Geralt touching his cock, and it should have been embarrassing, but it just added to this sweet dizziness. He placed his hand on Geralt's and pulled it forward onto his cock.
"It's okay," he said, and he whimpered as Geralt cupped him through his trousers. "We could do it… together."
It was risky to say this, Jaskier knew. It could indicate something more than some reckless fun in a cupboard, something that Geralt might not want. But Geralt didn't hesitate; he started to stroke Jaskier in the same rhythm his hips moved. Jaskier moaned and pushed back to be even closer to Geralt. Oh, what he would give to feel even more of Geralt, his skin, his scars, his cock pushing inside. The place didn't allow them to undress, but there was something he could do to feel more skin.
Geralt was holding Jaskier's shoulders with his teeth again, grunting softly as he moved. Jaskier turned his head and placed a messy kiss on Geralt's temple. Geralt released his shoulder and kissed Jaskier's neck, and jaw until he reached the bard's mouth.
The angle wasn't comfortable, but Jaskier didn't mind it. The kiss was amazing. Geralt was all hard lines and strong muscles, but his lips were soft and sweet as they moved against his. The kiss became more intense, their movements faster and wilder, and when Geralt's tongue slid into his mouth, he felt he couldn't hold back anymore.
He came hard, his whole body shuddering with pleasure, his cock throbbing in Geralt's palm. Geralt growled into their kiss and stroked him through his orgasm until the bard went limp in his arms.
Geralt jerked his hips forward twice more, then stiffened, holding Jaskier close with an almost bruising grip. Jaskier could feel Geralt's cock pulsating between his cheeks as the witcher broke the kiss and cried out, no longer bothered by the need to be silent.
They stayed like this for a moment, until Geralt's arms on his hips started to relax. Jaskier was afraid that he would pull back, but he didn't: he just snaked his arms around Jaskier's middle and buried his nose in his hair.
It was silly, but Jaskier didn't want this moment to end. This bewitched cupboard was a safe little heaven, where he didn't have to think about the meaning of all of this. More precisely, what all of this meant to Geralt. Geralt desired him, he was sure about that, but maybe it was just that. Lust for somebody he hadn't slept with yet, the thrill of novelty, or simply an itch to scratch.
But the moment ended as they both descended from the clouds of pleasure. Geralt still held him, but his breathing became more even, and his posture more rigid. Jaskier always believed that sure things – even when they were bad – were better than uncertainty, besides, he had never been really good at waiting.
"So," the bard started, fiddling with the hem of his doublet. "This was… fun. With all the lingering possibility of getting caught and maybe killed by a crazy witch and all." He rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms on his breeches. He was rambling, but he couldn't stop at this point. "Maybe next time we should find a more comfortable place."
He waited with bated breath, but before Geralt could answer, the door flew open, and Lady Agatha burst into the chamber. She immediately went to the cupboard where she'd hidden the bracelet. After murmuring a short spell, she opened the cupboard's door, grabbed the cursed jewel, and left the room as hurriedly as she arrived.
They waited a little bit to be sure that she wouldn't come back. Then Geralt released Jaskier's hip and pushed the door lightly. It opened with a soft creak.
Jaskier took a deep breath, stepped out from the cupboard, and winced. Drying come that glued his skin to his clothes wasn't his favorite sensation. From the corner of his eyes, he saw that Geralt had also stepped out. He didn't dare to look up. Now that they were back in the bright room, reality struck Jaskier in the face. He felt small and ridiculous.
Geralt was standing in front of him, and though he remained silent, Jaskier could feel his gaze burning a hole in his skull. At last, he slowly raised his gaze, bracing himself for the worst. But Geralt's golden eyes were full of warmth, and his mouth twitched up slightly. Anyone else would have missed it, but Jaskier had known Geralt so long that he recognized the small smile.
"The bed in my chamber is quite comfortable," he said, his intense gaze never leaving Jaskier's. "But first we should stop the crazy witch, so she won't interrupt us, among other things," he said with a sly smirk as he leaned closer and kissed Jaskier, biting his lower lip playfully.
Before Jaskier's brain could catch up and he could reciprocate the kiss, Geralt pulled back. He also winced and glanced at his trousers.
"Maybe a quick change of clothes first," he murmured, and the faint blush that spread on his cheeks made Jaskier smile as they left the chamber, shoulder to shoulder.