Geralt doesn't need to worry, Jaskier isn't planning to get drunk - he thinks the hangover is a horrible idea as much as the witcher does. But hey, if vodka is on the menu, one can't let it go untasted, right? A couple of swings never hurt anyone.
There aren't many things in the Continent that can kill Jaskier's libido, and the cold is definitely not one of them. Besides, exercise keeps you warm, right? And sex counts as exercise. Perfect logic.
(Or maybe Jaskier is just that horny.)
"...fuck." He gasps.
That tactical approach is a success, Jaskier's body immediately reacts to it, shivering and not because of the cold, pushing back against Geralt until there is not an inch of free space between them, the spike of arousal peeking into his scent. Jaskier is a man of words and sounds, of expressions of love, want and desire. He's also an attention whore. So of course he loves this, loves having all the attention of the man he loves on him, hearing him talk about what he wants to do to him and him alone. Especially when...
"I love your voice." He's never said that before, he realizes - he's complimented Geralt's body and abilities plenty of times, but he never praised his voice. Probably because he never had a not-horny way to make such compliment in the first place. "It's deep and powerful, and I could close my eyes and come just to the sound of it. Tell me, oh mighty witcher-" It's not begging, not quite yet, but he plays with the edges of this tone to make it almost so. His hands fall on top of Geralt's and give them a squeeze before moving up to stroke those strong arms. "--which of this humble bard's virtues do you want to take advantage of the most? As you already know... I'm always open to requests."
no subject
There aren't many things in the Continent that can kill Jaskier's libido, and the cold is definitely not one of them. Besides, exercise keeps you warm, right? And sex counts as exercise. Perfect logic.
(Or maybe Jaskier is just that horny.)
"...fuck." He gasps.
That tactical approach is a success, Jaskier's body immediately reacts to it, shivering and not because of the cold, pushing back against Geralt until there is not an inch of free space between them, the spike of arousal peeking into his scent. Jaskier is a man of words and sounds, of expressions of love, want and desire. He's also an attention whore. So of course he loves this, loves having all the attention of the man he loves on him, hearing him talk about what he wants to do to him and him alone. Especially when...
"I love your voice." He's never said that before, he realizes - he's complimented Geralt's body and abilities plenty of times, but he never praised his voice. Probably because he never had a not-horny way to make such compliment in the first place. "It's deep and powerful, and I could close my eyes and come just to the sound of it. Tell me, oh mighty witcher-" It's not begging, not quite yet, but he plays with the edges of this tone to make it almost so. His hands fall on top of Geralt's and give them a squeeze before moving up to stroke those strong arms. "--which of this humble bard's virtues do you want to take advantage of the most? As you already know... I'm always open to requests."