[Not sharpened into fangs, but perfectly sharp in the most human way, leaving marks he knew would pink at first, then darken. He offers his throat readily, more of those needy noises slipping, but much greedier in their intensity.
He's going to look a mess. He feels a mess, a bit, but gods, he needed it, too.
The scratch down his back takes him by surprise; Jaskier gasps, jerking at the scrape, every hair on his body raising with a shudder. Oh. Fuck. That, combined with Geralt's final gasp, the pump into his hand.
What a combination.
Jaskier doesn't come himself, but he feels about as good as if he had. The scratches grow warm even under the water; perhaps not quite torn skin, but enough he knows he'll feel it when he lays down again.
He laughs, quiet and breathless, and lifts his hands to hold onto the Witcher's shoulder as he kisses him. Normally he'd love to tease -- better than you imagined? -- but it doesn't quite rise to his tongue.
There's a relaxing in Geralt he hasn't seen for months, and that's good enough. Answer enough.]
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He's going to look a mess. He feels a mess, a bit, but gods, he needed it, too.
The scratch down his back takes him by surprise; Jaskier gasps, jerking at the scrape, every hair on his body raising with a shudder. Oh. Fuck. That, combined with Geralt's final gasp, the pump into his hand.
What a combination.
Jaskier doesn't come himself, but he feels about as good as if he had. The scratches grow warm even under the water; perhaps not quite torn skin, but enough he knows he'll feel it when he lays down again.
He laughs, quiet and breathless, and lifts his hands to hold onto the Witcher's shoulder as he kisses him. Normally he'd love to tease -- better than you imagined? -- but it doesn't quite rise to his tongue.
There's a relaxing in Geralt he hasn't seen for months, and that's good enough. Answer enough.]