Jaskier is a warm weight on his chest, his cock hot like a brand against Geralt's stomach. He bites his lip and the familiar spicy edge of arousal starts to creep into his scent. But he's hesitant, he's not jumping on the opportunity to do something that Geralt is quite certain he's been eager to do for a long time, and that's... odd? Or, well, it seems odd until the bard starts chatting his way through an explanation, using far too many words to ask a relatively simple question.
He shuffles a bit further up Geralt's body, cock resting in the furrow between his pectoral muscles. He continues to prattle on about reciprocation and sex drives and some such, even as his hands reach down and grab two handfuls of flesh. Geralt makes a considering hum at the warm tug in his guts that he gets when the bard's palms rub over his nipples. It's... nice. Not nice enough to get him going so soon after waking up, but still enjoyable. The state of his cock doesn't matter much at the moment; he could still appreciate what's happening regardless of whether he's hard.
This, however, has turned into a talk, of the kind that Geralt had been keen on avoiding. He runs his hands over Jaskier's hips, running his thumbs over the jut of his pelvic bone. He is seriously considering the possibility of shutting the bard up by pulling him down for a kiss, but that's a temporary solution at best. Jaskier will just continue talking again once his mouth is no longer occupied, and Geralt doesn't have a cock to occupy his mouth with for a longer period of time.
Promise me, Jaskier says, and Geralt nearly rolls his eyes. If he didn't want to be right here, underneath the bard, he wouldn't have put Jaskier on top of him. It's not as though the bard can keep him anywhere that he doesn't want to be. He could pitch him across the room if he didn't like it.
"I promise that you're talking too much," he replies and slides his hands back, palming the bard's ass. Jaskier has a tendency to wax poetic about the witcher's backside, but there are a lot of compliments to be paid to his own. Very perky. Geralt pulls him forward by his ass, his cock sliding between the witcher's tits. It looks nice like this-- looks even better when Jaskier pushes Geralt's pectorals together, making a tight space for him to fuck that rosy cock of his into. Would be nicer with a little lubrication to make it a smoother glide rather than dry skin on skin.
"Stop thinking about it so much and get the fucking oil."
no subject
He shuffles a bit further up Geralt's body, cock resting in the furrow between his pectoral muscles. He continues to prattle on about reciprocation and sex drives and some such, even as his hands reach down and grab two handfuls of flesh. Geralt makes a considering hum at the warm tug in his guts that he gets when the bard's palms rub over his nipples. It's... nice. Not nice enough to get him going so soon after waking up, but still enjoyable. The state of his cock doesn't matter much at the moment; he could still appreciate what's happening regardless of whether he's hard.
This, however, has turned into a talk, of the kind that Geralt had been keen on avoiding. He runs his hands over Jaskier's hips, running his thumbs over the jut of his pelvic bone. He is seriously considering the possibility of shutting the bard up by pulling him down for a kiss, but that's a temporary solution at best. Jaskier will just continue talking again once his mouth is no longer occupied, and Geralt doesn't have a cock to occupy his mouth with for a longer period of time.
Promise me, Jaskier says, and Geralt nearly rolls his eyes. If he didn't want to be right here, underneath the bard, he wouldn't have put Jaskier on top of him. It's not as though the bard can keep him anywhere that he doesn't want to be. He could pitch him across the room if he didn't like it.
"I promise that you're talking too much," he replies and slides his hands back, palming the bard's ass. Jaskier has a tendency to wax poetic about the witcher's backside, but there are a lot of compliments to be paid to his own. Very perky. Geralt pulls him forward by his ass, his cock sliding between the witcher's tits. It looks nice like this-- looks even better when Jaskier pushes Geralt's pectorals together, making a tight space for him to fuck that rosy cock of his into. Would be nicer with a little lubrication to make it a smoother glide rather than dry skin on skin.
"Stop thinking about it so much and get the fucking oil."