There's a knock at the classroom door and Geralt startles, reaching for swords that aren't there because of course they aren't, he's in fucking Oxenfurt. He should have heard anyone approach but he was too busy with Jaskier, too wrapped up in the bard's scent and the taste of his throat and the little noises that he makes to pay attention to what's outside the door. When Geralt looks over his shoulder, there's a very embarrassed-looking maid in the doorway, her back turned to them in an attempt at discretion.
Jaskier has yet to release Geralt's hips from the grip of his thighs, nor does he stop tracing his fingers over the witcher's chest. It's... distracting. Geralt draws in a sharp breath as his thumb runs over one of his nipples again, and their perkiness is rather annoyingly visible underneath the relatively thin linen of his shirt. Jaskier manages to have a whole conversation with the maid without even an ounce of shame for the position they're in. He's even cheeky enough to wink at Geralt with the implication that he's been caught in this very kind of position many times before, and Geralt is sure that the maid hears the low growl he made at you won't be the last by the nervous noise she makes in response.
The witcher would've far preferred to just snap at the girl to leave and pick back up right where he left off, even if it would probably scare her, but apparently this is important and Jaskier has to run off to attend to his reporting. The girl runs off and Jaskier has to make himself presentable again, doing up his doublet and smoothing out his clothes, and when Geralt steps back to let him stand, he misses the warmth of him. Then he's pissed at himself for such a stupid reaction, what, is he going to turn into a fucking wilting flower after a few kisses? He's not Jaskier.
Jaskier kisses him again, all sweet and tender, and Geralt melts into it. So much for not being the swooning maiden, fuck.
"Yes," he says, when Jaskier asks about dinner. "I'll be there."
Of course he'll be there. Where else would he be?
Geralt watches Jaskier leave the classroom and, once he's gone and the door has closed behind him, he leans against the desk that he'd just had the bard on top of and scrubs his hands over his face, and says one incredibly heartfelt,
"Fuck."
He waits for Jaskier outside the doors of the dining hall, reluctant to go inside and face a crowd of strangers who all know much more about him than he does them. And there's that part where they were caught in the classroom earlier, and Geralt doesn't know Oxenfurt very well specifically but he is entirely, painfully certain that the maid has spread that piece of gossip all across the campus by now. If he has to hear every comment that everyone makes about what went on in that room, he at least wants to have Jaskier sitting there with him, and preferably a very large tankard of ale.
no subject
Jaskier has yet to release Geralt's hips from the grip of his thighs, nor does he stop tracing his fingers over the witcher's chest. It's... distracting. Geralt draws in a sharp breath as his thumb runs over one of his nipples again, and their perkiness is rather annoyingly visible underneath the relatively thin linen of his shirt. Jaskier manages to have a whole conversation with the maid without even an ounce of shame for the position they're in. He's even cheeky enough to wink at Geralt with the implication that he's been caught in this very kind of position many times before, and Geralt is sure that the maid hears the low growl he made at you won't be the last by the nervous noise she makes in response.
The witcher would've far preferred to just snap at the girl to leave and pick back up right where he left off, even if it would probably scare her, but apparently this is important and Jaskier has to run off to attend to his reporting. The girl runs off and Jaskier has to make himself presentable again, doing up his doublet and smoothing out his clothes, and when Geralt steps back to let him stand, he misses the warmth of him. Then he's pissed at himself for such a stupid reaction, what, is he going to turn into a fucking wilting flower after a few kisses? He's not Jaskier.
Jaskier kisses him again, all sweet and tender, and Geralt melts into it. So much for not being the swooning maiden, fuck.
"Yes," he says, when Jaskier asks about dinner. "I'll be there."
Of course he'll be there. Where else would he be?
Geralt watches Jaskier leave the classroom and, once he's gone and the door has closed behind him, he leans against the desk that he'd just had the bard on top of and scrubs his hands over his face, and says one incredibly heartfelt,
"Fuck."
He waits for Jaskier outside the doors of the dining hall, reluctant to go inside and face a crowd of strangers who all know much more about him than he does them. And there's that part where they were caught in the classroom earlier, and Geralt doesn't know Oxenfurt very well specifically but he is entirely, painfully certain that the maid has spread that piece of gossip all across the campus by now. If he has to hear every comment that everyone makes about what went on in that room, he at least wants to have Jaskier sitting there with him, and preferably a very large tankard of ale.