IC Inbox - VR

[lovelybottom]

                  

Hm.

[Silence. In the background, a faint, admonishing Geralt! can be heard.]

Call the bard.

[ VOICE | VIDEO | TEXT | RANDOM ACTION ]

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[lovelybottom]

[The bard acquiesces to Geralt's request to change places, and it's probably good timing-- his cheeks are turning pink, he must have been under the hot water for too long. While the abundance of hot water is a boon in this realm, it's also easy to overdo it, and they can't have Jaskier getting faint from heat before his performance. The actual shuffle to switch places is a little tight, because the shower is clearly only meant for one person at a time, not two grown men; there's a moment when he has to put Jaskier's back flat against the shower door to slip past him, and every place that their skin touches feels hot.]

[Jaskier is a handsome man; Geralt has known this for some time. Adding in water and flushed cheeks doesn't make him less so.]

[It's easier when he's no longer looking at him-- no longer pressing a palm to the center of his chest to hold him in place against the glass when he moves-- and Geralt can focus instead on washing off the sweat from his morning run. Jaskier clearly has the same idea, because he's quite offended by the state of Geralt's hair. He hadn't thought it was so bad, but Jaskier has delicate sensibilities when it comes to hygiene. The witcher dunks his head under the spray to wet his hair before allowing Jaskier to get his hands at it, competent fingers massaging the soap in. He can't quite smother the soft, pleased noise at the feeling of Jaskier's fingers rubbing against his scalp.]

[He sways back a little into Jaskier's hands.]

Hm. [He does put up a bit of a fuss when Jaskier wants to do elaborate things to his hair. He really doesn't see what's wrong with how he normally does it, just putting it half-up so that it stays out of his face. What he doesn't say is that he likes it when the bard brushes his hair for him, and when he runs his fingers through it afterwards to make sure all of the tangles are out.] The vest you bought is ridiculous. It's stiff.

[Which is part of the point, of course-- the fabric has to be stiffened so that, when laced, it can cinch his already narrow waist in even narrower. That makes it an uncomfortable sort of garment, more so than the doublets and shirts that Jaskier would force him into for banquets.]

[rollstoseduce]

[Thank the gods he's keeping his hips away from Geralt's body, because that pleased noise is doing things to him, not to mention the way the witcher sways back into his hands. So much bloody trust! Jaskier basks in this feeling, not only in the trust itself but also the pleasure Geralt finds in the pampering, which he will never admit (unless he's running a fever, apparently). It does make him feel smug as hell as well, which is probably why the witcher doesn't mention it much, not wanting to help with his already oversized ego.

Well, there's also the whole deal with Geralt thinking he isn't allowed to have nice things, that's probably stopping him from admitting it too. He's been doing better since they've arrived at this realm, Jaskier's gotta give him that. But even before that, back in their own world, Jaskier would find this whole ritual of theirs intoxicating as fuck. And being high in the feeling of being the only one that can get Geralt like this definitely helps with chasing the nervousness away - or at least, for the time being.

If he can get the mighty White Wolf to trust him with his hygiene, he can do anything. Like winning a Pokémon contest.

The comment about the vest makes him laugh, and that also helps him relax. This is more like it, more... normal (whatever counts as normal for them anyway). Just two bros chilling in the shower, teasing each other, no homoerotic tension between their naked, wet bodies because they aren't like that. Obviously.]

Of course it is! That's the entire point. [He replies while washing off the shampoo and moving on the conditioner, another wonderful invention of this realm, Arceus bless it all.] It's a corset vest, Geralt. You've seen corsets before, have you not? [On women, but details.] Their tightness is meant to emphasize your figure - and you, my friend, were chiseled by the gods themselves. Can't you picture it? Every powerful muscle of yours firmly shaping the cloth, your broad chest perfectly... framed...

[Jaskier's fingers slow down as he realizes that Geralt may not be able to picture it, but he does. And it's bringing back the extra awareness of their current situation. He's relaxed too much and now his hips are near the witcher's fucking perfect ass again and it would only take him to move one bloody inch to--]

IMPERVIOUS! [He suddenly squeals in the middle of his internal panic, an effort to try to guide the conversation in another direction - it also means he accidentally pulls Geralt's hair. Oopsie?] That's- ah, erm, yeah, that the vest, it's tight, right? So tight that you won't be able to take it off, because I cannot have you doing that, losing articles of clothing all over the main hall even if--

[--if it would be sexy as hell. Oh for fuck's sake. Why can't he stop? When did he become this bad at this? Has their relationship truly changed so much these last few months? (You two are fucking cuddling every night, Jaskier, come on.)

He covers his face with both hands and lets out a frustrated groan into them as he takes a step back, as if that could truly add space between them. Definitely not in this shower.]

It's like that on purpose, [He says as he drops his hands, big blue eyes begging for both to be believed and for this torture to stop, ground swallow him now please.] -you'll look marvelous in it and I need you to trust me with that. Please?