With the bad experiences of the dragon hunt and the captivity left behind them, having Geralt clean his wounds is a whole new deal. Both his heart and his dick are properly alert for it now, and it's a miracle that Jaskier doesn't pop a boner right there. What is going through Geralt's mind during the whole process? Can he smell the spike of arousal in the air? Can he hear Jaskier's heart buzzing when he kneels in front of him to tend his legs? It's not even a naughty thing (that's for the hands on his thighs) - it's about the powerful image of the mighty White Wolf kneeling to his feet, not losing what makes him magnificent.
Jaskier feels more like a king at that very moment than he ever felt in the luxury of Lettenhove.
And that feeling gets even more intense when, after a couple of good days of resting (where Jaskier uses the nightmare excuse to cuddle Geralt in his sleep), Roach is offered to him and to him alone. His favorite girl in the world gets a hug from him, of course, and some sugar cubes, plus a promise of a good brushing later. Part of Jaskier wishes they could ride together, bodies pressing against each other, but he knows it'd be too much weight for Roach. Besides--
Well, there's something to be said about having Geralt guiding the horse in front of him. This powerful man who has lived a century and saved humanity thousands of times... here he is, being serviceable for this mere bard. The powerful feeling returns, and Jaskier can swear is intoxicating, addicting, exquisite.
He keeps Geralt's cloak around him, protecting his identity, but also because being allowed to keep it and having something of Geralt surrounding him all the way makes him giddy as hell. Sadly he isn't allowed to perform anywhere either, first because of his injuries and then for protection, so being again on the road is a blessing. At least when they are alone, Geralt lets him play and sing to his heart's content as long as it isn't too loud. Jaskier can do that.
It's both beautiful and terrifying how easily they fall back in their usual routine. It's like things never got interrupted, and yet something has shifted - for the better, thankfully. Geralt is truly trying, and Jaskier devours the attention, daring to do a little more and more every day. He flirts and touches Geralt, puts as little space between them as possible while camping, cuddles him like a freaking octopus when they fall asleep. Jaskier knows there's a new talk to be had about the direction this is going, especially concerning -and ugh, he hates having to acknowledge the issue- certain sorceress, but they'll get there in time. Geralt doesn't seem to have caught on yet, a mix of the man being as thick as a brick and being distracted by the threats that follow them, but Jaskier has waited twenty years, he can wait a few days more. The fact he feels confident about it now, that his hope isn't meaningless, already means a lot.
It's not wishful thinking anymore. It's a fucking real possibility of having a shot. If they weren't trying to be sneaky, Jaskier would sing to all the gods and heavens above.
He may be no witcher but he can tell when they're close to Oxenfurt - that sea smell is unmistakable. And yep, only a little later the bridge comes into view, the colorful walls behind it, the ships and fishermen little shadows on the shore. Jaskier puts his hand on Geralt's shoulder as he does his best not to fall off Roach - not only because of the leaning in, but also because his body is already all bouncy with excitement.
"Geralt, let me down, please. It'd be best to walk in together." Like equals, he doesn't add. "Besides, you don't want to be the face they get to greet, do you?"
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Jaskier feels more like a king at that very moment than he ever felt in the luxury of Lettenhove.
And that feeling gets even more intense when, after a couple of good days of resting (where Jaskier uses the nightmare excuse to cuddle Geralt in his sleep), Roach is offered to him and to him alone. His favorite girl in the world gets a hug from him, of course, and some sugar cubes, plus a promise of a good brushing later. Part of Jaskier wishes they could ride together, bodies pressing against each other, but he knows it'd be too much weight for Roach. Besides--
Well, there's something to be said about having Geralt guiding the horse in front of him. This powerful man who has lived a century and saved humanity thousands of times... here he is, being serviceable for this mere bard. The powerful feeling returns, and Jaskier can swear is intoxicating, addicting, exquisite.
He keeps Geralt's cloak around him, protecting his identity, but also because being allowed to keep it and having something of Geralt surrounding him all the way makes him giddy as hell. Sadly he isn't allowed to perform anywhere either, first because of his injuries and then for protection, so being again on the road is a blessing. At least when they are alone, Geralt lets him play and sing to his heart's content as long as it isn't too loud. Jaskier can do that.
It's both beautiful and terrifying how easily they fall back in their usual routine. It's like things never got interrupted, and yet something has shifted - for the better, thankfully. Geralt is truly trying, and Jaskier devours the attention, daring to do a little more and more every day. He flirts and touches Geralt, puts as little space between them as possible while camping, cuddles him like a freaking octopus when they fall asleep. Jaskier knows there's a new talk to be had about the direction this is going, especially concerning -and ugh, he hates having to acknowledge the issue- certain sorceress, but they'll get there in time. Geralt doesn't seem to have caught on yet, a mix of the man being as thick as a brick and being distracted by the threats that follow them, but Jaskier has waited twenty years, he can wait a few days more. The fact he feels confident about it now, that his hope isn't meaningless, already means a lot.
It's not wishful thinking anymore. It's a fucking real possibility of having a shot. If they weren't trying to be sneaky, Jaskier would sing to all the gods and heavens above.
He may be no witcher but he can tell when they're close to Oxenfurt - that sea smell is unmistakable. And yep, only a little later the bridge comes into view, the colorful walls behind it, the ships and fishermen little shadows on the shore. Jaskier puts his hand on Geralt's shoulder as he does his best not to fall off Roach - not only because of the leaning in, but also because his body is already all bouncy with excitement.
"Geralt, let me down, please. It'd be best to walk in together." Like equals, he doesn't add. "Besides, you don't want to be the face they get to greet, do you?"