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]

Geralt would rather go spelunking in the belly of a selkiemore than have to go back to those boutique stores that sell nothing but bath things, fighting a losing battle against warring scents to get what he needs before he ends up with a headache. He supposes that it's worth it, since Jaskier seems pleased that he went through the trouble and kisses him for it.

There's still something that surprises him, every time Jaskier leans in and kisses him so easily and casually. With Yen, kisses had been a lead-in to sex; with the whores, Geralt couldn't even pay them for such a thing. Though, to be fair to them, that may have been a service that no one could purchase, witcher or not. But Jaskier-- he kisses Geralt as thanks, or in greeting, or sometimes for no discernable reason at all. Just for the sake of kissing him.

Join me, he says, and while that is technically something that Geralt had been planning to do anyway, the lure of bared skin is more than he would have been able to resist. Jaskier leaves the door open and Geralt leans against the doorframe, watching him slowly remove layer after layer of clothing. If the bard had wanted to make a production out of it, he could have-- this is just a little tease. More than a little tease, when he gets into the water and the noise that he makes is a bit too enticing to not be at least a little deliberate.

Geralt walks in and, while he removes his shirt-- mostly for practical purposes rather than to entice, as he is aware that there's little that's appealing about his mess of scars-- and sits on the edge of the tub at Jaskier's back. One of the things that he had bought was a vial of lavender massage oil, and he takes that now to pour a little of it onto his hands and smooth it into Jaskier's shoulders. The bard had, in the past, rubbed salve and ointments into his aches and injuries; it is perhaps well past time for him to return the favor.

The oil is thin and slippery, allowing his thumbs to glide effortlessly over his skin, starting at his neck and working his way down across his shoulders, his arms, down to his wrist and hand and long, delicate fingers. He presses his thumbs into the meat of the bard's palm, gently kneading out the tension from all those hours that he spends holding and playing his instruments, rubbing the oil into the callouses.

[rollstoseduce]

Geralt may not be removing his shirt to entice, but it happens anyway. After wetting his face, Jaskier rests his chin on the edge of the tub and licks his lips while enjoying the view. His boyfriend's body has changed a bit since they made it to this realm, but not in a bad way - as sexy as those marked abs could be, Jaskier's chest swells with pride and glee when thinking about Geralt having a safer, healthier life. This is what he deserves, full meals and having time to play with his dogs. Besides, it's not like it's affected how fucking good Geralt looks. Taking away an inch or two of muscle from his mighty body is like taking a glass of water out of the ocean.

He's still the most handsome man Jaskier has ever met and, horny as usual, he can't wait to put his hands on him again. But strangely enough, Mr Bath Addict doesn't take the rest of his clothes off. In fact, he's sitting behind him, but not in the actual water. The spot that usually belongs to Jaskier. Huh.

"Geralt? What's the pro--" His sentence and his attempt to turn around are interrupted by the oily hands on his neck, massaging away the tiredness. Jaskier can't stop the little groan that leaves his lips, more sincere this time. "Ooooh fuck. That feels heavenly, my dear, please don't stop."

So it's not just the beauty products - the other part of his gift is Geralt returning the favor and doing the pampering for once. The smile currently attempting to split his face in two says how much Jaskier appreciates it - he would be vibrating with excitement about the whole deal if it wasn't for the fact Geralt's massage is turning him into jelly, incapable of doing more than sighing and resting his head against that thick bicep next to his ear.

...and ok, maybe he can drop a little kiss there too. Not many muscles are required to move to do that. He loves this man so fucking much, and as it happened back when the witcher powers came back, Jaskier can't stop thinking if this isn't love, then what is it?. Because he's willing to be big money certain crazy witch never got a freaking massage.

When Geralt reaches his hands (probably the part of his body Jaskier uses the most after his mouth - not Geralt, not his cock!) his whole body shudders and finishes slumping against the back of the tub and any amount of witcher skin he can reach.

"Fuck, Geralt. Is there anything your mighty hands can't do? I could get used to this..." And then, Jaskier being Jaskier, needs to express how much he's feeling through poetry. "I would love to say that you make me weak in the knees, but to be quite upfront and completely truthful, you make my body forget it has knees at all."

[lovelybottom]

One of the good things about Jaskier's unstoppable mouth is that Geralt never has to guess if he's enjoying something or not-- he will be told, at length, whether he likes it or not. In this case, he's enjoying Geralt's attentions very much indeed, making lovely little noises as his muscles loosen up underneath the witcher's hands. Jaskier's done this exact sort of thing enough times for him to know that his effusive praise isn't all theatrics; there is a particular sort of pleasure that comes from forcing a tight muscle to loosen.

The bard is fully limp by the time he's gotten to his hands, his weight borne both by the tub and Geralt's chest. He lingers there for a while, just for the simple sake of it, while Jaskier lets his mouth wax poetic.

Is there anything your mighty hands can't do, he asks, and Geralt makes a low, half-amused little hum.

"Shit at whittling," he says, and, now that the oil has been fully absorbed into Jaskier's skin, lets go of his hands.

He reaches for the bard's preferred shampoo-- why he has so many of them, Geralt will never understand. Soap is soap, after all, and it'll clean bodies, hair, clothes, whatever you put it on. But Jaskier is particular and Geralt doesn't want to argue about it, so fancy hair soap it is.

"Dunk your head," he says, and squeezes some of the fragrant stuff into his palm.

[rollstoseduce]

A half-amused little hum is a huge reaction coming from Geralt and music for Jaskier's ears. It always is, but on this particular occasion, it matters even more: he can't look at the witcher and read his body language to know what he's really thinking. That little hum? Tells him Geralt is in a good mood, that he's enjoying this moment they're having, that he isn't pushing through it for the sake of a birthday gift.

This conclusion is supported by the joke that comes next, Geralt's good old dry humor that he adores so much - when it isn't used being against him anyway. Jaskier laughs, loud and brightly, because it's funny, but also because he simply feels relaxed and content.

This is, without a doubt, the best birthday he's ever had.

He has a comeback for that little quip, but then Geralt asks him to dunk and Jaskier only gasps in both surprise and excitement before doing as asked. So it isn't only a massage, it's the full spa treatment - Geralt truly is spoiling him. Which is funny as hell, considering how much the witcher likes to make fun of him for being a spoiled brat.

When he comes back up, he doesn't hesitate to throw his head back to look at Geralt with adoration in his eyes and a grin splitting his face. If he had a tail, he'd be wagging it right now.

"Do you-- ah." He interrupts himself when Geralt's fingers are buried in his hair, because that feels so fucking good. The witcher has always been meticulous about his goals, and this seems to be no exception. Being at the center of Geralt's intense attention is like being looked at by the fucking sun, and Jaskier will happily burn with it.

After making some more noises to show how much he's enjoying this, he tries again. "Do you understand now why I enjoy pampering you so much?"

[lovelybottom]

The bard is all too happy to do whatever Geralt tells him to, and he really wishes that Jaskier would have been this compliant on literally any of the hunts he tagged along on. Would it have killed him to have paid attention to the warnings that Geralt gave him? He didn't tell Jaskier all of those things for his own damn health, he said it so that Jaskier wouldn't bumble his way to his death. And for what? A song? No song is worth a dead bard.

But that's a rant for another day. Right now, Jaskier is safe and happy, gazing up at him with an adoration that he rarely sees on anyone else. He almost wishes that he still had his proper sense of smell, just so that he'd be able to breathe in the honey-sweet chamomile scent of him, bright with his happiness. Instead, he must content himself with Jaskier's wide grin and the way he tilts his head into the motions of Geralt's hands, like how cats will sometimes demand to be pet. The little noises that he makes when Geralt rubs at his scalp, or when he runs his nails lightly through his hair.

"Hm," he says and presses his thumbs into the base of Jaskier's skull, right at the little divots near where the neck connects, and rubs there. "Maybe I just like all the noises you make."

Jaskier's always been more vocal than Geralt. Maybe he just likes listening to the bard moan and sigh about everything that he does. Maybe he thinks that the little sounds he makes when he's pleased are prettier than all his ballads and poems put together.

Once he's thoroughly soaped, Geralt tips the bard's head back and uses a shallow bowl to pour water over his hair, rinsing it with water that now smells faintly of mint from his bathbomb. It complements the lavender of his soaps and the massage oil nicely, which is half the reason why Geralt bought them-- if he's going to sit here in a perfumed sauna, he might as well sit in one that won't give him a headache.

[rollstoseduce]

Maybe I just like all the noises you make - oh, what wonderful compliment that is. Geralt likes things like his noises and his smell, things that Jaskier can't wash and make pretty - well, he can exaggerate the noises a bit, but he usually doesn't. It's not like he needs to (well, games likes his little mating call a moment earlier aside) when his witcher always takes such good care of his needs. No, Geralt likes the very core of him, his natural state, no need to put perfume and a bow on them. Just... raw Jaskier. There can't be a purer love than that.

It's also kind of ironic considering all those times he asked for blessed silence through the years - oh, how far they've come. Part of Jaskier wants to tease him for it, but Geralt is making an effort here and he knows that reminding him of the mean words in their past may not always end well. It's not like Jaskier will ever let him forget, teasing him for his twenty-two years of tsundere will always be a thing... just not today. Gotta make sure Geralt can receive the joke well instead of feeling like shit for it, and can't risk this perfect moment.

So instead, he just chuckles and gives Geralt another face-splitting grin. "I'll make all kinds of noises for you, my dear. It's not a hardship - you're so good at getting them out of me after all~"

And most importantly, being allowed to get noisy and getting to be heard is great for his ego. Obviously.

Rinsing comes next, and Jaskier keeps his promise, humming in delight at the feel of the warm water, the wonderful mix of lavender and mint, and Geralt's fingers kindly getting rid of any leftover shampoo on his hair. Add to that a frustrated groan when there's a knock at their door - ok, sure, it's the food, and he is hungry, but the loss of the witcher's hands on him is sinful, alright. This is his birthday and he's being spoiled, so he's gonna be bratty if he wants, thank you very much.

Geralt puts own the tray on a stool next to the tub, flexing all those amazing muscles when he bends over, and Jaskier gets an idea. After wine is poured, he grabs his glass... and Geralt's as well before moving back to rest against the side of the tub that touches the wall.

"Wine is only available to any naked beauties in the bathtub." He winks. "Join me already, love. I am soooo tired, I may need help getting that food in my mouth."

Yes, he's asking to be fed. This is what happens when he is allowed to play pillow princess, he's going to take advantage of it to get all that attention he craves.

[lovelybottom]

Geralt retrieves their dinner, a wide variety of the kind of seafood dishes that Jaskier prefers-- oysters on the half-shell and shrimp and little delicate things made from crab and lobster-- and their wine, setting it down on a stool when he returns and using a corkscrew to open the bottle. He pours, as he knows better than to deprive the bard of a good libation, and Jaskier quickly takes the glass as soon as it's available. As well, apparently, as Geralt's own, after which he retreats to the other side of the tub, out of the witcher's easy reach. Only for naked beauties, so he says, all cheeky and sly and winking at him. He is, of course, transparent in his intentions. Luckily for him, Geralt isn't opposed to his intentions.

"So it's all for you?"

After all, Geralt will never be a beauty, naked or not. And, anyway, he has the whole rest of the bottle right with him, he doesn't actually need a glass. But, he reminds himself, this is Jaskier's present, so he'll play along with his silliness and strip out of the rest of his clothes to join him. When he steps into the tub, the water is warm-- perhaps a little cooler than he'd prefer it, but Jaskier had always complained about how much he liked to boil himself in his baths. He settles himself down within reach of their dinner, since Jaskier seems intent on starving if the food isn't delivered to his mouth by Geralt's hand.

"Come here, then, if you're intent on being lazy." He drapes an arm along the edge of the tub-- an open invitation for Jaskier to get as close as he likes.

[rollstoseduce]

"Did you just call me beautiful?" he asks with his eyebrows raised. Oh, he's never forgetting this. That little compliment will live rent-free in his head for the rest of his days, probably even making Geralt regret he said it. "You know how to please your bard, my dear. A pity I can't make my birthday happen more often if these are the gifts you'll be showering me with."

The self-deprecation hasn't gone unnoticed, however. So when Geralt undresses, Jaskier makes sure to make his appreciating noises extra loud just for him. It's not hard to do, because as he's already established, Geralt is simply that good at getting Jaskier to make noise. There's also the added fact that even if it's been a little over a month, he can't still get over the fact he's allowed to watch and ogle now instead of having to sneak glances while bathing. He licks his lips once more, eager to put his hands all over that gorgeous body...

And he gets his chance when Geralt drapes an arm along the edge of the tub. He's also called lazy, but Jaskier just laughs, understanding this time it's teasing and not his boyfriend being an arse - Geralt has learned where to draw the line, and Jaskier couldn't be prouder of him for it. His first instinct is to sit between the witcher's legs, but that wouldn't work well for the feeding. So he presses himself against his lover's side, making as much skin as possible touch while dropping a kiss on Geralt's cheek.

"For the other beauty in the tub," he tells him as he hands him back his glass of wine. No self-hate in this tub allowed, thank you very much!

Geralt starts feeding him then, and Jaskier being Jaskier, he doesn't allow things to stay simple. There are the cute little noises, yes, but also the playfully licking of Geralt's fingers as blue eyes look directly into gold, or the grabbing of food with his teeth to share it with his lover through a kiss. At some point, he ends up moving to sit on Geralt's lap, which gives him better access to the tray with food. He ends up feeding Geralt as well.

"The flavor of the White Wolf makes everything taste ten times better," he teases after breaking a kiss full of wine. "Now I cannot help but wonder, would you let me eat off your chest one day?"

When they're less wet and with food that has less shell around it.