It's downright exhilarating to have Geralt's gaze follow his every move and observe every inch of skin he reveals, golden eyes filled with what can only be described as hunger. And when he makes that low noise on his chest? Fuck, Jaskier is two seconds away from just laying down on the bed and letting the wolf devour him.
He wants to be devoured.
Geralt's hands are back on him and every spot of skin he touches is on fire, making Jaskier hum with pleasure as well, his ass answering by pressing harder against Geralt's groin. His thighs are being touched, scars and all, and isn't that a wonderful-- wait. What?
"Oi! Ladies like me because of my charm, my generosity as a lover, my sweet words and my gentle touch." Humble bard right here, ladies and gentlemen. "Not only because of my--" And then what Geralt is saying really hits him. His pouting becomes bright smile. "...you like my dick." He can't help it, he freaking giggles. "Thanks."
It seems wearing the medallion is an excellent idea after all - Jaskier stays quiet for a second, letting Geralt admire the view, letting the meaning sink in. The brooch carries a message as well, of course, but wearing the medallion is a hundred times more powerful, and Jaskier can feel the heavy weight of that meaning on his chest, on the cold metal that touches his blushed skin. If this right here isn't love, trust, a pear, then he doesn't know what it is.
A yesssss is murmured when Geralt sits up, and Jaskier meets his kiss mid-way to crash their mouths together and let their tongues meet each other (eager, desperate to explore) as his hands are finally close enough to go all out. He strokes every muscle, from arms to shoulders to that amazing thick neck, claws at those defined abs and gropes those firm pecs, nails digging in a little bit when Geralt pinches his nipple. Jaskier doesn't stop being noisy even while being kissed, pleasantly humming and whimpering against Geralt's mouth, but he has to break their making out to throw his head back and groan when a big hand finally touches his dick.
"Geralt." Each letter of his lover's name is filthy with need, and his hips can't help thrusting against those fingers (calloused as his own, because of the sword and not the lute, but it's still such a lovely connection to have). He hasn't been touched in so long, and he's only had that one orgasm in Oxenfurt recently, he doesn't know how long he'll last if Geralt goes for a full hand job. Which would be embarrassing as hell, because he prides himself of being an excellent lover, and that doesn't include coming too soon.
"Easy, my wolf." He teases as he buries his face in Geralt's neck to do some biting and kissing of his own, deft fingers massaging Geralt's pecs still. "My body craves for your touch with the rawest of needs, years of pining and weeks without company have me more sensitive than usual. I wouldn't want to let you down by reaching ecstasy with the timing of a virgin."
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He wants to be devoured.
Geralt's hands are back on him and every spot of skin he touches is on fire, making Jaskier hum with pleasure as well, his ass answering by pressing harder against Geralt's groin. His thighs are being touched, scars and all, and isn't that a wonderful-- wait. What?
"Oi! Ladies like me because of my charm, my generosity as a lover, my sweet words and my gentle touch." Humble bard right here, ladies and gentlemen. "Not only because of my--" And then what Geralt is saying really hits him. His pouting becomes bright smile. "...you like my dick." He can't help it, he freaking giggles. "Thanks."
It seems wearing the medallion is an excellent idea after all - Jaskier stays quiet for a second, letting Geralt admire the view, letting the meaning sink in. The brooch carries a message as well, of course, but wearing the medallion is a hundred times more powerful, and Jaskier can feel the heavy weight of that meaning on his chest, on the cold metal that touches his blushed skin. If this right here isn't love, trust, a pear, then he doesn't know what it is.
A yesssss is murmured when Geralt sits up, and Jaskier meets his kiss mid-way to crash their mouths together and let their tongues meet each other (eager, desperate to explore) as his hands are finally close enough to go all out. He strokes every muscle, from arms to shoulders to that amazing thick neck, claws at those defined abs and gropes those firm pecs, nails digging in a little bit when Geralt pinches his nipple. Jaskier doesn't stop being noisy even while being kissed, pleasantly humming and whimpering against Geralt's mouth, but he has to break their making out to throw his head back and groan when a big hand finally touches his dick.
"Geralt." Each letter of his lover's name is filthy with need, and his hips can't help thrusting against those fingers (calloused as his own, because of the sword and not the lute, but it's still such a lovely connection to have). He hasn't been touched in so long, and he's only had that one orgasm in Oxenfurt recently, he doesn't know how long he'll last if Geralt goes for a full hand job. Which would be embarrassing as hell, because he prides himself of being an excellent lover, and that doesn't include coming too soon.
"Easy, my wolf." He teases as he buries his face in Geralt's neck to do some biting and kissing of his own, deft fingers massaging Geralt's pecs still. "My body craves for your touch with the rawest of needs, years of pining and weeks without company have me more sensitive than usual. I wouldn't want to let you down by reaching ecstasy with the timing of a virgin."
Something he definitely is not!