[ The wind rustles the leaves, and Geralt leans harder into the kiss. Wraps his fingers more firmly around Jaskier's cock. He can feel those hands trailing down his back; he doesn't think about it, on his part, how they trace over his newest scars. He's earned so many, they've become just one more. A handful of many reminders.
Maybe he tries to dwell on these a little less, though. There is more to it, than teeth and claws.
He pushes Jaskier back in answer—walking forward with his lips still exploring Jaskier's throat until they hit the bed. He falls on top, Jaskier underneath. The mattress sinks, plush, yielding.
He slides his hand under Jaskier's shirt, a heavy exhale falling from him. ]
no subject
Maybe he tries to dwell on these a little less, though. There is more to it, than teeth and claws.
He pushes Jaskier back in answer—walking forward with his lips still exploring Jaskier's throat until they hit the bed. He falls on top, Jaskier underneath. The mattress sinks, plush, yielding.
He slides his hand under Jaskier's shirt, a heavy exhale falling from him. ]