The fact Geralt tips his head into his palm even after all the screaming and fighting, even after everything has become simply a mess, makes Jaskier melt. He's such a fool, and yet he doesn't do anything to stop it.
I'm weak, my love, and I am wanting
A cute little gasp escapes him when he feels that heartbeat under his fingers, followed by a choked sound, a mix of a chuckle and a sob. The sweetness returns to his scent - not overwhelming as other times, but it's there, mixing with the bitterness. Poets through the ages have put feelings into words, lovers have showed them through gifts, but there's nothing more honest and natural than a heartbeat. No gesture in the world can top this.
"That's it, darling. That's your pear." He says with a smile, fingers stroking Geralt's neck lovingly. The term of endearment isn't planned, but he's too touched by this not to use it. Hope is trying to peek back... "And it's the most romantic pear I've ever gotten. Anyone can toss a coin and buy flowers, but this? This is your body, calling for me. Fuck, I want to kiss you so badly right now."
Yet he doesn't, because while he's ready to let his heart explode with love, to throw himself back in Geralt's arms, he hasn't forgotten this keeps happening. He had been wary to forgive Geralt and that had just been their friendship - how would his heart survive after the final relationship jump?
"If you ask me, Geralt - I think we have something amazing here. And I know this is too new for you, too much. I don't mind reassuring you from time to time, guiding you through it - haven't I done that the last twenty years? With friendship, but the point stands nonetheless. It's my honor that you let me in like this. I want nothing more than having you on the bed between my legs and kissing every single one of your scars, telling you how they only make you more handsome. I can be patient through your witchering ways - I have been for two decades. But I need you to believe it, my dear. To believe in us, in my words, to trust me. Doubts are fine, I have them myself - but please don't put up your walls every time Vesemir tells you too." A sigh. "They go up in a moment but it takes me days to bring them down again. There's only so much I can take - I've said that already, haven't I? Back in Vizima."
He forgave Geralt because he promised to try. And he did - he's been Geralt still, throwing jabs at Jaskier, brooding when he felt like it, but less mean, more accepting of their friendship. Jaskier's hand grabs Geralt chin again, searching those golden eyes for any signs of doubt or honesty.
"I don't want coin or a bodyguard. I want your company - your stories and your pear. Be as a friend, or your significant other. I like you, Geralt. I love you. Do you believe me?"
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I'm weak, my love, and I am wanting
A cute little gasp escapes him when he feels that heartbeat under his fingers, followed by a choked sound, a mix of a chuckle and a sob. The sweetness returns to his scent - not overwhelming as other times, but it's there, mixing with the bitterness. Poets through the ages have put feelings into words, lovers have showed them through gifts, but there's nothing more honest and natural than a heartbeat. No gesture in the world can top this.
"That's it, darling. That's your pear." He says with a smile, fingers stroking Geralt's neck lovingly. The term of endearment isn't planned, but he's too touched by this not to use it. Hope is trying to peek back... "And it's the most romantic pear I've ever gotten. Anyone can toss a coin and buy flowers, but this? This is your body, calling for me. Fuck, I want to kiss you so badly right now."
Yet he doesn't, because while he's ready to let his heart explode with love, to throw himself back in Geralt's arms, he hasn't forgotten this keeps happening. He had been wary to forgive Geralt and that had just been their friendship - how would his heart survive after the final relationship jump?
"If you ask me, Geralt - I think we have something amazing here. And I know this is too new for you, too much. I don't mind reassuring you from time to time, guiding you through it - haven't I done that the last twenty years? With friendship, but the point stands nonetheless. It's my honor that you let me in like this. I want nothing more than having you on the bed between my legs and kissing every single one of your scars, telling you how they only make you more handsome. I can be patient through your witchering ways - I have been for two decades. But I need you to believe it, my dear. To believe in us, in my words, to trust me. Doubts are fine, I have them myself - but please don't put up your walls every time Vesemir tells you too." A sigh. "They go up in a moment but it takes me days to bring them down again. There's only so much I can take - I've said that already, haven't I? Back in Vizima."
He forgave Geralt because he promised to try. And he did - he's been Geralt still, throwing jabs at Jaskier, brooding when he felt like it, but less mean, more accepting of their friendship. Jaskier's hand grabs Geralt chin again, searching those golden eyes for any signs of doubt or honesty.
"I don't want coin or a bodyguard. I want your company - your stories and your pear. Be as a friend, or your significant other. I like you, Geralt. I love you. Do you believe me?"