Having Geralt under him like this makes Jaskier feel like a king, yet also incredibly small at the same time. Sweetness intertwines with his heavy arousal as Jaskier smiles like the lovefool he is at every little gesture - the humming to his touch, the kiss to his thumb, and-- you won't hurt me. Fuck, talk another grand demonstration of trust. This right here is worth twenty years of loyalty, of giving himself to the man. Can we be kings together?
"True, I wouldn't. But you may want to stop for other reasons, my dear, and your comfort is important to me." Sex is only fun if both parties are having a good time after all.
It's not Jaskier's first time in this position, but it is the first time he finds a male lover on the other side of it. Men in general aren't often interested in sucking his cock, unlike women - part of keeping the illusion up, Jaskier knows, of trying to pretend they aren't actually one of those queers. It's usually his ass and mouth they seek. Geralt, once again, proves to be different, willing to take his lover's spill even on his marvelous chest - Jaskier can already tell his sex life will be fantastic if this witcher is open to do all kinds of things.
His hand guides his cock slowly, carefully, giving Geralt time to get used to having his mouth full. His groan drags out during the process, his whole body shivering at the warm and wet feeling around his dick, his eyes fighting the urge to close just to keep admiring those lovely lips stretched around his girth and those beautiful golden eyes fixated on his face.
There's no stopping them from closing any longer, though, when Geralt squeezes his ass and licks the slit of his cock - Jaskier throws his head back and moans, loud and filthy, his hips thrusting a little harder than he intends to. It's been a while, so he's a little overwhelmed at that moment.
"Fuck, sorry."
Jaskier fixes his position before trying again, his back bending over as a hand grabs the headboard of the bed for support, the other going to pet Geralt's hair again. Hips are moved gently, sensually, with the same smoothness he would put into a dance. Every thrust makes his skin more flushed, his panting quicker and more frequent, the forming of sentences hard to achieve.
"Yes, that's it... you're so good for me, love..."
Because of course not even at moments like this he can keep his mouth shut, and how could he? His whole body is heating up with pleasure, waves of it rolling through him every time Geralt flicks his tongue - there's no thinking being done here, only losing himself in the sensations, and so Jaskier forgets everything about witchering noses and ears. As far as he knows, he is having a wonderful time and he needs to let his lover know.
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"True, I wouldn't. But you may want to stop for other reasons, my dear, and your comfort is important to me." Sex is only fun if both parties are having a good time after all.
It's not Jaskier's first time in this position, but it is the first time he finds a male lover on the other side of it. Men in general aren't often interested in sucking his cock, unlike women - part of keeping the illusion up, Jaskier knows, of trying to pretend they aren't actually one of those queers. It's usually his ass and mouth they seek. Geralt, once again, proves to be different, willing to take his lover's spill even on his marvelous chest - Jaskier can already tell his sex life will be fantastic if this witcher is open to do all kinds of things.
His hand guides his cock slowly, carefully, giving Geralt time to get used to having his mouth full. His groan drags out during the process, his whole body shivering at the warm and wet feeling around his dick, his eyes fighting the urge to close just to keep admiring those lovely lips stretched around his girth and those beautiful golden eyes fixated on his face.
There's no stopping them from closing any longer, though, when Geralt squeezes his ass and licks the slit of his cock - Jaskier throws his head back and moans, loud and filthy, his hips thrusting a little harder than he intends to. It's been a while, so he's a little overwhelmed at that moment.
"Fuck, sorry."
Jaskier fixes his position before trying again, his back bending over as a hand grabs the headboard of the bed for support, the other going to pet Geralt's hair again. Hips are moved gently, sensually, with the same smoothness he would put into a dance. Every thrust makes his skin more flushed, his panting quicker and more frequent, the forming of sentences hard to achieve.
"Yes, that's it... you're so good for me, love..."
Because of course not even at moments like this he can keep his mouth shut, and how could he? His whole body is heating up with pleasure, waves of it rolling through him every time Geralt flicks his tongue - there's no thinking being done here, only losing himself in the sensations, and so Jaskier forgets everything about witchering noses and ears. As far as he knows, he is having a wonderful time and he needs to let his lover know.