[Give him more friction he does, with the air of a man who holds a wilf wolf underneath his hands -- a bit smug, and endlessly fascinated. The things he has only seen Geralt do (perhaps not intentionally... for the most part) now scrape across his skin Teeth close to Jaskier's most vulnerable parts -- his ears, his neck.
Honestly, he almost thinks it's a shame Geralt's teeth hold no extra points. How hands they would look on him. How they'd feel on skin.
Jaskier's only response to that is a sucking of air through his lips, before they crash their lips together again. He needn't, no. But he did it for the complaint. For that quiet breathiness with which Geralt said it now. He was sure to hold the sound of that for many nights to come, close to his chest.
When he pulls back for air and Geralt rumbles that, low and gentle with that gravel in his voice, Jaskier's lips turn into a smile, and he bends his head lower to kiss across Geralt's shoulder.] Of course not. [He says to hot skin, beaded with more than water; says it while he jerks his long, coiled fingers around Geralt's cock and the surface dips and webs out from the movement; said while his leg moves to tangle behind Geralt's, the fucking step in this bath feeling far too small. He says it with the belief of a man being told the sky is falling, that the moon will not rise. That the stars will not shine.
It is, he thinks, the first time he's ever agreed with Geralt on that.]
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Honestly, he almost thinks it's a shame Geralt's teeth hold no extra points. How hands they would look on him. How they'd feel on skin.
Jaskier's only response to that is a sucking of air through his lips, before they crash their lips together again. He needn't, no. But he did it for the complaint. For that quiet breathiness with which Geralt said it now. He was sure to hold the sound of that for many nights to come, close to his chest.
When he pulls back for air and Geralt rumbles that, low and gentle with that gravel in his voice, Jaskier's lips turn into a smile, and he bends his head lower to kiss across Geralt's shoulder.] Of course not. [He says to hot skin, beaded with more than water; says it while he jerks his long, coiled fingers around Geralt's cock and the surface dips and webs out from the movement; said while his leg moves to tangle behind Geralt's, the fucking step in this bath feeling far too small. He says it with the belief of a man being told the sky is falling, that the moon will not rise. That the stars will not shine.
It is, he thinks, the first time he's ever agreed with Geralt on that.]