After throwing his lute on his back, Jaskier picks up his book and papers, feeling like a student again when he "casually" holds them in front of him to cover his boner. He can't help throwing one look at Geralt before leaving - his pants don't show anything, which disappoints him for a moment before he notices his nipples do. Oh, so he hadn't done so badly then. And to be fair, they've only been kissing - Jaskier just happens to be a horny arse.
A horny arse that grins proudly as he walks through the halls of the university with his neck marked by the White Wolf.
Usually he reports to the head of the arts department, but today the dean is there too, sighing and not even a bit surprised at Jaskier being himself. He gets scolded for it, of course, but honestly? He's never given a damn about fucking around the university, and he won't start now - specially today of all days. He's in bloody heaven, his mere existence proof of the kind of love that he usually sings about: one that lives through a long time, through hardship, through death, heartbreak and heroics, and is rewarded at the end.
Finding Geralt waiting for him makes his heart flutter, it's just as if he was arriving to a date. He knows Geralt is probably avoiding the people inside, but if that was only the case, he also knows the witcher would've been perfectly capable of finding a corner for himself to brood and drink alone.
"Hey, handsome." It's his greeting as he comes closer and grabs Geralt's hand to guide him inside, getting some looks and giggles as the walk by, even a wolf-whistle or two. Luckily the comments aren't thrown at the their faces and it's kept as whispered gossip, most likely because even if people respect Geralt around here, they still know not to mess with a fucking witcher (sadly they don't consider the fact Geralt can hear them anyway). Many people thought they were already together when they arrived anyway, so they mostly stick to updating the betting pool and teasing a little Jaskier when they approach them to chitchat.
And speaking of Jaskier... he decides to sit next to Geralt instead of across now, shoulders and legs bumping, absorbing the warmth the witcher's body is always exuding, and even letting his hand drop on Geralt's thigh while drinking or watching other bards and dancers perform. His scent is intoxicatingly sweet, mirth making his eyes sparkle - only to shine even brighter when he sees what the maid brings them for dinner.
"Seafood stew! Oh, Geralt, you need to taste this delicacy--"
There's much poetry he has to say about this dish, and the sounds he makes while he eats them are almost obscene. The university kitchens usually avoid such complex and expensive dishes, but then he realizes they are the only ones having it. Huh. Maybe a gift from a person Geralt saved? He makes a mental note to ask him about later. Now it's time to perform, and with all this romance and passion burning brightly in his veins, he's ready to leave the White Wolf ballads behind for this one night.
He starts romantic, throwing charming smiles and winks at Geralt any time he has the chance.
My dearest one, my darling dear / Your mighty words astound me / But I've no need for mighty deeds / When I feel your arms around me But I would bring you rings of gold / I'd even sing you poetry / And I would keep you from all harm / If you would stay beside me
But as ale and seafood settle in his stomach and the memories of what they did in the classroom return to his mind whenever those golden eyes fall on him, his songs go up in heat.
When I press an ear up to your breast / I can hear the rhythm start / It's hard to tell our beats apart / So I hope you're listening right now/ Because I can barely hold my tongue / The things we do could warm the sun
Until he can't take it anymore and he allows his voice to break as picks the most subtle yet dirtiest of his lyrics.
And rock right up to the side of my mountain / Climb until you reach my peak / And reach right into the bottom of my fountain / I wanna play in your deep Then dip me under where you can feel my river flowing and flow / Hold me 'til I scream for air to breathe / And wash me over until my well runs dry / Send all your sins all over me
A round of applause follows his performance, and Jaskier usually would stay on the floor to bask into and absorb the attention, but tonight he's a man with a mission - a mission filled with desire, passion and twenty years of wanting. When he returns to Geralt's side, sweaty and panting, he sits on the edge of the table and leans in to speak into his ear.
"Tell me, my dear. Did you like my choice of songs?"
no subject
A horny arse that grins proudly as he walks through the halls of the university with his neck marked by the White Wolf.
Usually he reports to the head of the arts department, but today the dean is there too, sighing and not even a bit surprised at Jaskier being himself. He gets scolded for it, of course, but honestly? He's never given a damn about fucking around the university, and he won't start now - specially today of all days. He's in bloody heaven, his mere existence proof of the kind of love that he usually sings about: one that lives through a long time, through hardship, through death, heartbreak and heroics, and is rewarded at the end.
Finding Geralt waiting for him makes his heart flutter, it's just as if he was arriving to a date. He knows Geralt is probably avoiding the people inside, but if that was only the case, he also knows the witcher would've been perfectly capable of finding a corner for himself to brood and drink alone.
"Hey, handsome." It's his greeting as he comes closer and grabs Geralt's hand to guide him inside, getting some looks and giggles as the walk by, even a wolf-whistle or two. Luckily the comments aren't thrown at the their faces and it's kept as whispered gossip, most likely because even if people respect Geralt around here, they still know not to mess with a fucking witcher (sadly they don't consider the fact Geralt can hear them anyway). Many people thought they were already together when they arrived anyway, so they mostly stick to updating the betting pool and teasing a little Jaskier when they approach them to chitchat.
And speaking of Jaskier... he decides to sit next to Geralt instead of across now, shoulders and legs bumping, absorbing the warmth the witcher's body is always exuding, and even letting his hand drop on Geralt's thigh while drinking or watching other bards and dancers perform. His scent is intoxicatingly sweet, mirth making his eyes sparkle - only to shine even brighter when he sees what the maid brings them for dinner.
"Seafood stew! Oh, Geralt, you need to taste this delicacy--"
There's much poetry he has to say about this dish, and the sounds he makes while he eats them are almost obscene. The university kitchens usually avoid such complex and expensive dishes, but then he realizes they are the only ones having it. Huh. Maybe a gift from a person Geralt saved? He makes a mental note to ask him about later. Now it's time to perform, and with all this romance and passion burning brightly in his veins, he's ready to leave the White Wolf ballads behind for this one night.
He starts romantic, throwing charming smiles and winks at Geralt any time he has the chance.
My dearest one, my darling dear / Your mighty words astound me / But I've no need for mighty deeds / When I feel your arms around me
But I would bring you rings of gold / I'd even sing you poetry / And I would keep you from all harm / If you would stay beside me
But as ale and seafood settle in his stomach and the memories of what they did in the classroom return to his mind whenever those golden eyes fall on him, his songs go up in heat.
When I press an ear up to your breast / I can hear the rhythm start / It's hard to tell our beats apart / So I hope you're listening right now/ Because I can barely hold my tongue / The things we do could warm the sun
Until he can't take it anymore and he allows his voice to break as picks the most subtle yet dirtiest of his lyrics.
And rock right up to the side of my mountain / Climb until you reach my peak / And reach right into the bottom of my fountain / I wanna play in your deep
Then dip me under where you can feel my river flowing and flow / Hold me 'til I scream for air to breathe / And wash me over until my well runs dry / Send all your sins all over me
A round of applause follows his performance, and Jaskier usually would stay on the floor to bask into and absorb the attention, but tonight he's a man with a mission - a mission filled with desire, passion and twenty years of wanting. When he returns to Geralt's side, sweaty and panting, he sits on the edge of the table and leans in to speak into his ear.
"Tell me, my dear. Did you like my choice of songs?"