The farther they go north, they more tired and colder their bones get. As blue as his balls are at the moment, Jaskier surprisingly hasn't entered Ard Carraigh with many expectations for the night. He starts the kiss because he likes affection and kissing Geralt is fun, and maybe he can get some making out of it. Perhaps even a hand job if they got lucky?
Turns out Geralt is ready to go, and suddenly Jaskier is perfectly awake - one could say the bard doesn't carry his heart in his own sleeve but in Geralt's. (And his cock as well, let's be honest here.) Yet the witcher has never made Jaskier feel restless or caged - he knows that if he says no right now, Geralt will let go and not resent him for it. He's free to ask as little or as much of Geralt as it pleases him - they aren't shackled to each other, they're companions in their mutual freedom. Jaskier couldn't ask for more.
Well, actually, yes, he wants to ask for a good dicking, please and thank you.
He giggles in Geralt's arms while he drops kisses all over that handsome face, and he would've started to work on a hickey of his own if he hadn't been tossed on the bed so soon - no complaints though. In fact, he throws his head back and laughs as his hands start working on the doublet as fast as they can.
"One day, my dear witcher, I want you to fuck me while you hold me so easily in those thick, strong arms of yours." He stretches one of his (very fit thanks to all the walking) legs to reach in between Geralt's thighs and rub his groin with his foot. "Against the wall, a pillar, or a tree - matters not. I want to be stuck between a hard place and the witcher's third sword."
With the doublet out of the way and a foot still teasing Geralt, Jaskier sits back against the cushions and undoes the laces of his chemise, his chin high in the air to expose his neck for the wolf as an index finger curls in a silent invitation for the witcher to join him on the bed.
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Turns out Geralt is ready to go, and suddenly Jaskier is perfectly awake - one could say the bard doesn't carry his heart in his own sleeve but in Geralt's. (And his cock as well, let's be honest here.) Yet the witcher has never made Jaskier feel restless or caged - he knows that if he says no right now, Geralt will let go and not resent him for it. He's free to ask as little or as much of Geralt as it pleases him - they aren't shackled to each other, they're companions in their mutual freedom. Jaskier couldn't ask for more.
Well, actually, yes, he wants to ask for a good dicking, please and thank you.
He giggles in Geralt's arms while he drops kisses all over that handsome face, and he would've started to work on a hickey of his own if he hadn't been tossed on the bed so soon - no complaints though. In fact, he throws his head back and laughs as his hands start working on the doublet as fast as they can.
"One day, my dear witcher, I want you to fuck me while you hold me so easily in those thick, strong arms of yours." He stretches one of his (very fit thanks to all the walking) legs to reach in between Geralt's thighs and rub his groin with his foot. "Against the wall, a pillar, or a tree - matters not. I want to be stuck between a hard place and the witcher's third sword."
With the doublet out of the way and a foot still teasing Geralt, Jaskier sits back against the cushions and undoes the laces of his chemise, his chin high in the air to expose his neck for the wolf as an index finger curls in a silent invitation for the witcher to join him on the bed.