Geralt's nose searches for the spot behind his ear and Jaskier gladly turns his head a bit to offer better access, humming in appreciation at the trail of kisses now worshipping his skin. The second he learned Kaen Morhen has hot springs he decided he wanted to fuck in them, and Geralt seems to be in the same camp.
There's also the fact the witcher didn't get an orgasm earlier, so Jaskier is eager to do something that involves them both. When Geralt agrees to keep the fangs, Jaskier is a little too distracted by the kisses to say anything other than "good" - he can convince him to bite him later, at least he got the fangs to stay and that's the first step done.
He barely gets to mumble a fuck at the ass grab before Geralt is kissing him, and he obviously wastes no time in kissing back, open-mouthed and with lots of tongue. Jaskier presses his body against the witcher's as his hands explore all those mighty muscles and trace every scar - Geralt's plan works wonderfully, because it doesn't take long for Jaskier to be grinding his hips against Geralt's thigh.
A needy whimper escapes his lips when Geralt breaks the kiss, and he can already feel the shiver running through his body when that lovely deep voice murmuring into his ear--
"WHAT!" Oh, look, it's the indignant high pitch. Congrats, Geralt, mission has been accomplished. Jaskier puts his hands on the witcher's chest and pulls back, glaring at his lover with heat in his eyes that is half arousal, half anger. "You horse's arse! You did on purpose!" Huff, huff. Here comes the finger-wagging at Geralt's face. "You think you're so funny, taking advantage of the effect you know you have on me while your prick can ignore it all! Well, joke's on you, because we're not leaving until I've taken care of this! I'm not working alone in a library with blue balls! And if Eskel gets mad at you for taking so long to show up, have fun explaining this to him!"
(Not gonna lie, he would pay good coin to hear that conversation.)
For a second he considers moving to the opposite edge of the spring and putting up a show - Geralt would still be able to smell him, sure, but he wouldn't be able to do the nose-burying thing, and that should be a nice little punishment, he thinks. The thought leaves his mind as soon as it arrives, though. No matter how frustrated he feels, he's still a fool in love, and he likes the idea of having Geralt at arm's reach while he touches himself.
"It's almost as if I was in my 20s again," he comments with a little sigh as he closes his eyes and lets a hand drop underwater. "Two orgasms in one morning. Touching myself and pretending is you."
This should be a quickie, but since he's supposed to be making things harder for Geralt and his daily chores, he takes his sweet time. Calloused fingers explore his own cock as if it was the first time, as if they didn't know exactly how he likes it and what spots he favors to be touched.
"Some times I would be in bed and-- ah, fuck." He takes a moment to moan as he lets his thumb pick up the precum that is already forming and massage the head with it. "And I'd imagine you coming back from a hunt... all sweaty, eyes black... and finding me there, moaning your name... fuck, Geralt..." Before he can stop himself, he leans forward and rests his forehead on the witcher's shoulder as he hand starts picking up speed. "You'd slip in bed with me, a-and aah and offer to help..."
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There's also the fact the witcher didn't get an orgasm earlier, so Jaskier is eager to do something that involves them both. When Geralt agrees to keep the fangs, Jaskier is a little too distracted by the kisses to say anything other than "good" - he can convince him to bite him later, at least he got the fangs to stay and that's the first step done.
He barely gets to mumble a fuck at the ass grab before Geralt is kissing him, and he obviously wastes no time in kissing back, open-mouthed and with lots of tongue. Jaskier presses his body against the witcher's as his hands explore all those mighty muscles and trace every scar - Geralt's plan works wonderfully, because it doesn't take long for Jaskier to be grinding his hips against Geralt's thigh.
A needy whimper escapes his lips when Geralt breaks the kiss, and he can already feel the shiver running through his body when that lovely deep voice murmuring into his ear--
"WHAT!" Oh, look, it's the indignant high pitch. Congrats, Geralt, mission has been accomplished. Jaskier puts his hands on the witcher's chest and pulls back, glaring at his lover with heat in his eyes that is half arousal, half anger. "You horse's arse! You did on purpose!" Huff, huff. Here comes the finger-wagging at Geralt's face. "You think you're so funny, taking advantage of the effect you know you have on me while your prick can ignore it all! Well, joke's on you, because we're not leaving until I've taken care of this! I'm not working alone in a library with blue balls! And if Eskel gets mad at you for taking so long to show up, have fun explaining this to him!"
(Not gonna lie, he would pay good coin to hear that conversation.)
For a second he considers moving to the opposite edge of the spring and putting up a show - Geralt would still be able to smell him, sure, but he wouldn't be able to do the nose-burying thing, and that should be a nice little punishment, he thinks. The thought leaves his mind as soon as it arrives, though. No matter how frustrated he feels, he's still a fool in love, and he likes the idea of having Geralt at arm's reach while he touches himself.
"It's almost as if I was in my 20s again," he comments with a little sigh as he closes his eyes and lets a hand drop underwater. "Two orgasms in one morning. Touching myself and pretending is you."
This should be a quickie, but since he's supposed to be making things harder for Geralt and his daily chores, he takes his sweet time. Calloused fingers explore his own cock as if it was the first time, as if they didn't know exactly how he likes it and what spots he favors to be touched.
"Some times I would be in bed and-- ah, fuck." He takes a moment to moan as he lets his thumb pick up the precum that is already forming and massage the head with it. "And I'd imagine you coming back from a hunt... all sweaty, eyes black... and finding me there, moaning your name... fuck, Geralt..." Before he can stop himself, he leans forward and rests his forehead on the witcher's shoulder as he hand starts picking up speed. "You'd slip in bed with me, a-and aah and offer to help..."