"Wait a moment," he pants. "Do you hear this?"
"What?" Radovid mumbles, looking up from where he is kneeling in front of the big four-poster bed, his mouth still pleasantly full of Jaskier - or more exactly, Jaskier's cock.
"This sound. You aren't having any babies tortured somewhere down in the cellar, are you?"
Letting go of Jaskier with a deep sigh of regret, Radovid listens more closely.
"Damn, you're right, darling. Whatever it is, that sound is eery," he then says, a shudder running down his spine. "But I think it's coming from outside, not from the cellars." He scrambles to his feet and walks over to the window. Jaskier pulls up his breeches and, with a sigh no less regretful than his princely lover's, follows after Radovid. It is his own fault, of course, that the fulfilment of his very strong, throbbing desire will have to wait. Still, with this strange noise irritating his sensitive ears, it is just impossible to fully concentrate on making love. Hopefully, they will figure out the mystery quickly and be able to resume what they have been doing with as much - or even more - vigour and dedication than before.
Standing as closely next to each other as physically possible, they gaze into the night. And see and hear nothing. When they are just about to give up and return to their bed, however, the sound starts up again.
"It's like the wailing of a ghost. Or can it be a banshee?" Jaskier asks, racking his brain. "Bollocks, I should have paid more attention to Geralt when he was explaining about his monsters."
"You think it's a monster? But what would a ghost or a banshee be doing in the middle of a city like Oxenfurt?"
"Oh, trust me, if I have learned one thing during my adventures with the Witcher, it's that these creatures are everywhere. Could be living right in our room, too, under the bed or inside the ceiling or the wardrobe or—"
"Now you're pulling my leg, aren't you, Jaskier?" Radovid looks around the room anxiously. The wailing sounds from outside have stopped again.
"Not at all, my dear prince, it happens," Jaskier says sagely, "although it is rather unlikely, I must admit. And I'm sure, with my vast experience as the companion of a monster hunter, I'd have noticed if there was some creature hiding in our room. Still, what could be lurking in the darkness of the alleyway, is a different story altogether." He opens the window. It is a mild summer night. From afar he can hear the typical hubbub of city nightlife, but the rich neighbourhood where Radovid's mansion is located, is perfectly quiet. Except for—
"Hark, there it is again!" Jaskier says, taking his lover's hand. They listen for a moment. Then Jaskier turns away from the window with a determined expression. "Let's go see what is making this annoying noise so we can finally go back to bed!" And re-focus on fucking each other ...
"Must we, really?" Radovid asks. "This creature might be dangerous. I'd much rather stay here with you where it's warm and safe—"
"Sorry, love, but the role of damsel in distress is already taken," Jaskier says with a grin. "I fear you'll have to be the knight in shining armour. And I know for sure that you're in possession of an excellent sword."
"Alright, my lady, guess I can be whatever you want me to be," Radovid concedes with a bow, his face flushing at the mention of the sword. He has one indeed, but Jaskier is not looking at where the shiny metal object is lying haphazardly on the floor but at the visible bulge in his pants. Well, he is almost sure that it is no different with Jaskier, only that he has the advantage of his longish shirt effectively hiding any lingering effects of their hot foreplay.
"As long as we can be together again afterwards, that is," he adds with a shy smile.
"Don't worry, love, we can." Jaskier winks at him. "If we survive our little adventure ..."
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
"Jaskier, look, it's a — it's a cat!"
And indeed, in the light of the oil lamp which the bard is holding in his hand, they can see not only the eery reflections of the creature's eyes from right in the middle of the street, but also its fluffy calico fur and bushy tail.
"No, Radovid, that's not just a cat," Jaskier says, a big smile spreading across his face. "That, my dear prince, is the most beautiful Esmeralda. Come here, kitty, kitty, don't be shy." He hunkers down and extends his hand toward the animal. "How the heck did you get from Dorian to Oxenfurt? Poor girl, you must be starving! And missing your family. Come to uncle Jaskier. We'll take good care of you. Come, kitty, kitty, come ..."
Radovid sheathes his sword, looking at his bard with a fond smile. He does not really care much for cats, but seeing Jaskier like this is utterly adorable. Esmeralda seems to agree with this assessment, too. After pretending to ignore Jaskier's efforts at first and idly licking her front paw instead of coming closer, she eventually deigns to show interest in the kneeling human. She stretches and yawns, then slowly approaches the bard. He keeps on coaxing her until, finally, she touches his outstretched fingers with her pink little nose, then rubs her fluffy head first against his hand and then, starting to purr loudly, presses her body against his.
"Ah, you recognise me, my beautiful Esmeralda, don't you?" Jaskier says, stroking her long fur. "Clever cat. And I thought you were dead. So happy, you aren't. Come, let me take you inside. I'm sure my prince will find something nice to eat for you. There's a big, soft bed, too. You'll love it, you'll see." Gently, he gathers Esmeralda into his arms and, burying his face in her fur, rises to his feet.
"Darling, you don't mind us adopting an orphaned cat, do you?" he then asks, holding the still purring animal out to his companion. "Esmeralda, meet Radovid, comma, Prince."
Tentatively Radovid ruffles the cat's fluffy fur between her adorable little ears. She appears to like it. Encouraged by her continuous purring, he tickles her under the chin. She closes her eyes, visibly enjoying what he is doing. Perhaps having a cat is not such a bad idea after all?
He smiles at Jaskier and nods his assent. He would do anything for the bard. If it makes his lover happy, he can even share their bed with the fluffy fur ball. It is big enough for three.