[ The remark garners a faint huff. Jaskier has come with him to dozens of dark corners, even when Geralt has made it clear he's liable to be eaten. If there's unwanted attention from people while they walk, Geralt ignores it as he often does.
He follows inside, the door swinging shut behind them. His eyes settle on Jaskier as he slides over the money for their entry. He can see the bard's thoughts forming—or thinks he can. That is not actually the reason they are here, but only because Geralt needn't first invite his friend someplace where they're required to strip in order to ask him if he wants to fuck. He'd have just asked him at the tavern. Which he was, actually, vaguely considering until it became obvious Jaskier's arm was bothering him.
Having said that, Geralt is not opposed to raising the topic here while they're at it. Bathhouse is as good a place as any. He slips past the curtains, glancing briefly over his shoulder. ] Only a bit?
[ They've kissed twice (thrice); they were steps away from fucking at that party. True, Geralt saw no need to discuss and he still doesn't. This isn't a discussion. It's a simple matter of a yes or no. Because Geralt does want, and he hasn't got reason to hide it or pretend otherwise. It feels rather pointless, even if he were to care to be coy. Which he doesn't. Coy is the last thing Geralt is capable of being.
And if Jaskier tells him no, that'll be that. He suspects he won't get a no, though. They're both wanting for company, aren't they? Not that they can't find it elsewhere. But there's something to be said for company that knows him. Really knows him. Someone he never has to explain himself to, rarely has to even say much at all to be understood. ]
no subject
He follows inside, the door swinging shut behind them. His eyes settle on Jaskier as he slides over the money for their entry. He can see the bard's thoughts forming—or thinks he can. That is not actually the reason they are here, but only because Geralt needn't first invite his friend someplace where they're required to strip in order to ask him if he wants to fuck. He'd have just asked him at the tavern. Which he was, actually, vaguely considering until it became obvious Jaskier's arm was bothering him.
Having said that, Geralt is not opposed to raising the topic here while they're at it. Bathhouse is as good a place as any. He slips past the curtains, glancing briefly over his shoulder. ] Only a bit?
[ They've kissed twice (thrice); they were steps away from fucking at that party. True, Geralt saw no need to discuss and he still doesn't. This isn't a discussion. It's a simple matter of a yes or no. Because Geralt does want, and he hasn't got reason to hide it or pretend otherwise. It feels rather pointless, even if he were to care to be coy. Which he doesn't. Coy is the last thing Geralt is capable of being.
And if Jaskier tells him no, that'll be that. He suspects he won't get a no, though. They're both wanting for company, aren't they? Not that they can't find it elsewhere. But there's something to be said for company that knows him. Really knows him. Someone he never has to explain himself to, rarely has to even say much at all to be understood. ]