Geralt not only embraces him, he also spends those few moments running his thumb on the bard's skin, and Jaskier swears he's in heaven right now. And he wishes Geralt to feel the same, so when he hears that little annoyed grunt? He chuckles and kisses the witcher's neck again.
"Just an accent? You went out of your way to change the way you speak, my dear." He rubs the arms around him, comforting and assuring this isn't criticism. "Eskel called you a bookworm and I've always known you're strict about getting details right when it comes to witchering things, but it's something else to see this part of you applied to other things in life. It's quite remarkable, really."
There are sincerity and affection in his voice - after twenty years, it's amazing to still learn new things about Geralt, to see him in a new light. Which makes sense, since they're in a relationship now, and that's new as well. Unveiling new sides of each other comes with it. Geralt's attention to detail (not to call it an obsession) applies to this too, Jaskier realizes - the way he woke up earlier than usual to go fishing, how he made sure Jaskier had more than one orgasm not to keep him waiting... Whatever you want he said, and Jaskier is still learning how deep that promise goes.
"It was, indeed, a pretentious choice, but I must say - I do like Eric." A pause before he adds, "Better than bloody Alfred."
And oh, how much does he hate Alfred. Julian is a good name, one he only changed because he left his old life behind, not because he dislikes the name itself. But Alfred? Ugh. These thoughts should sour his mood, but he surprises himself by realizing he doesn't mind sharing this little bit. He feels content and safe in Geralt's arms, in this old yet newly found relationship that allows him to look at his childhood without fearing it may catch up on him.
Affectionate as always and hungry for more of this touching Geralt as he's always wanted, Jaskier nuzzles against the witcher's neck and jaw, only to meet his stubble. Mmh.
"You need a shave," he comments as he raises his fingertips to kindly stroke that strong jaw before stopping at the witcher's lip, a thumb caressing the scab that has formed there. "And mayhap some balm? Eskel decked you pretty hard, huh."
Look, he cares. He truly does. That doesn't mean he can't sound amused as hell too.
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"Just an accent? You went out of your way to change the way you speak, my dear." He rubs the arms around him, comforting and assuring this isn't criticism. "Eskel called you a bookworm and I've always known you're strict about getting details right when it comes to witchering things, but it's something else to see this part of you applied to other things in life. It's quite remarkable, really."
There are sincerity and affection in his voice - after twenty years, it's amazing to still learn new things about Geralt, to see him in a new light. Which makes sense, since they're in a relationship now, and that's new as well. Unveiling new sides of each other comes with it. Geralt's attention to detail (not to call it an obsession) applies to this too, Jaskier realizes - the way he woke up earlier than usual to go fishing, how he made sure Jaskier had more than one orgasm not to keep him waiting... Whatever you want he said, and Jaskier is still learning how deep that promise goes.
"It was, indeed, a pretentious choice, but I must say - I do like Eric." A pause before he adds, "Better than bloody Alfred."
And oh, how much does he hate Alfred. Julian is a good name, one he only changed because he left his old life behind, not because he dislikes the name itself. But Alfred? Ugh. These thoughts should sour his mood, but he surprises himself by realizing he doesn't mind sharing this little bit. He feels content and safe in Geralt's arms, in this old yet newly found relationship that allows him to look at his childhood without fearing it may catch up on him.
Affectionate as always and hungry for more of this touching Geralt as he's always wanted, Jaskier nuzzles against the witcher's neck and jaw, only to meet his stubble. Mmh.
"You need a shave," he comments as he raises his fingertips to kindly stroke that strong jaw before stopping at the witcher's lip, a thumb caressing the scab that has formed there. "And mayhap some balm? Eskel decked you pretty hard, huh."
Look, he cares. He truly does. That doesn't mean he can't sound amused as hell too.