Those biceps could snap him in half and that chest looks perfect to take a nap on. Honestly, Jaskier wouldn't mind either of those things, he'd happily go for them right here on grass - or maybe bent over the fence. That is, if Geralt does like doing the bending instead of being bent. Jaskier tries not to judge by appearances, it's always the bears that turn out to be the softest.

He should probably not think that far before even learning what equipment Geralt requires for said bending, but Jaskier knows better than trying to stop his brain. It already knows what images will be brought in the shower later.

"But you are older than me, I can tell that much." He replies as he takes the excuse to appraise Geralt once again. Flexing because he bats for Jaskier's team, or simply a gym rat that likes to show off? What gym would that be so he can, err, visit? "Thirty five?"

That would make it only seven years between them - not bad at all. Although he supposed his sister and friends would have less to say about the age and more about the whole single father deal.

(Thinking too much ahead again. Damn, this crush isn't pulling any punches.)