cointosser: (Default)
Jaskier "old-timey fuckboy" Alfred Pankratz ([personal profile] cointosser) wrote2021-04-12 08:58 pm
gynvael: (mg: 004)

[personal profile] gynvael 2021-11-12 04:13 pm (UTC)(link)
[ His eyes flicker open. They're long, expert fingers that wrap around him and it brings a hitch to his breath.

Curious. How those hands can be both familiar and yet not. They've tended to all parts of his body: at first only when he couldn't manage on his own—times when, were he alone, he'd have had to drag himself to a healer and cough up the coin—and then later, during rare moments when he would allow it. When the nights were especially warm and he decided it was not the worst thing in the world to have some help (some solace), even if he didn't truly need it. But they have never tended to him quite like this.

He tugs Jaskier closer for a kiss. His teeth catch on that lower lip, the one that's curved into a smile, the one that so often shamelessly pouts at him like it'll fucking have any effect except exasperate him. (Except.)

Sometimes he wants to give more than he takes. Tonight, he doesn't. Tonight, he just wants to have and if Jaskier will indulge him, that's what he'll do.

Blunt nails press into Jaskier's wrist, just hard enough to be felt, or maybe leave a small mark. He glides his lips under Jaskier's jaw where splashes from the bath have left the skin wet. Then up, to the shell of Jaskier's ear, where he mummers low: challenging, knowing, a promise all at once. ]
You won't.
Edited 2021-11-12 16:37 (UTC)
gynvael: (mg: 005)

[personal profile] gynvael 2021-11-16 04:17 am (UTC)(link)
[ It isn't, no. Not quite. But he doesn't go out of his way to pretend what he isn't, either. Never has. There's an unyielding, inhuman strength to his grip even if his fingers are careful not to bruise. (Yet.) Maybe some part of him just wants to press; Jaskier is not afraid of him, has not been afraid of him from the moment they met, and it's something he knows will never change.

He draws in an unsteady breath. Fuck. Mmh. He's always known those hands were skilled. He closes his lips around Jaskier's earlobe and sucks. Pushes into those hands for more friction. ]


Must you talk? [ Any trace of annoyance is absent from his words now. They're only words, breathless. A heated desire rolls through him. He walks his fingers down Jaskier's spine while they kiss. Captures his mouth so that he'll be quiet for once.

It's not only Jaskier's hands he may miss. He won't say it, though. He doesn't need to, for one. After this long—Jaskier already knows.

When they part briefly, when he says lightly, ]
We're not friends, [ —it carries an edge of meaning that'd not been there in the past. ]
gynvael: (106)

[personal profile] gynvael 2021-11-18 05:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ One day, he's going to discover exactly what it is Jaskier saw him do and, more specifically, with whom, but that's a topic that's yet to arise. (There are, actually, a few topics yet to arise between them. Which is neither here nor there, for now.)

Of course not.

He doesn't think about it, the emphasis put upon words like friends or companions. None of it matters, none of what it's called matters because at the end of the day, he has what he has. And what he has is important to him. It's a rare thing, for him to acknowledge when something (someone) is important to him. It always feels too easily taken away. (How many times has that happened?)

His fingers dig deeper into Jaskier's hip, and if he wasn't leaving bruises before, he must be now. He releases heavy, needy breaths. A hunger burns deep inside. He wants to swallow all of this whole, all of what he's feeling—grasping it so it can't be fucking torn from him. Water glides over Jaskier's skin. He can hear Jaskier's pulse stutter every time his teeth come close to an artery, a soft bit of flesh, and Geralt doesn't hesitate to give Jaskier more of what he wants.

This time, they scrape harder against his throat—where the vein sits, thrumming. ]
gynvael: (055)

[personal profile] gynvael 2021-11-19 02:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A place certainly exists here. Jaskier carved it out for himself without permission and Geralt allowed it to happen. Now they're here, tied together not by Destiny or magic but two decades of history Geralt had not meant to have with anyone. And after pushing it away once, he no longer wants to.

There's a slight curve to his lips as he traces them along Jaskier's throat. Maybe the bard can sense it. It's teasing and knowing and a little curious. He knows his own strength well, would not be leaving marks if Jaskier didn't want them, but the fact is there's that needy little noise out of Jaskier each time he squeezes, each time he presses hard. Makes him wonder if Jaskier has imagined him doing this before or if he's only discovered he likes it now.

Geralt obliges either way: he nips at the skin with his teeth until it blooms hot beneath, reddened and pink. His body coils tight, Jaskier's hand wrapped firmly around him. He lets his nails rake down, shudders with a gasping breath. His chest rises and falls.

Fuck. ]
Fuck.
gynvael: (012)

[personal profile] gynvael 2021-11-21 04:34 am (UTC)(link)
[ He does expect a teasing comment; maybe even a biting one. That's how they've always been and when it doesn't come, Geralt finds himself peering at his friend instead: searching, wondering, and not quite asking. It needn't be asked. Just—

Hm.

He sits back, a pleasant hum over his skin. Later, he might think about this moment. Or he might not. Either way, it isn't a bad memory, not even close. A rare shard in his life not wrapped in shadows.

And he can't say he minds the marks he left behind. He touched one now, just at the side of Jaskier's neck. He says nothing of it, but the quiet, vaguely intrigued sound he makes in response to it is plenty commentary coming from him. He's known Jaskier for a long time. But occasionally, it seems he can still learn something new. ]
gynvael: (Default)

[personal profile] gynvael 2021-11-21 07:45 am (UTC)(link)
[ He rolls his eyes. Some of the spell breaks, though not in an unpleasant way. He lets Jaskier have the kiss, because he wants it, too, but this time instead of pulling back when it's over, he gives Jaskier a light push away. ]

Like you fucked a bruxa.

[ There's fondness that he doesn't try to pretend isn't lingering. Geralt doesn't often stop to deeply examine what he's feeling and he doesn't do so now. He knows he enjoyed it, that Jaskier did as well, and that's enough. What else may be there is inconsequential.

The rest of their time is no less easy. Eventually, he hauls himself out of the bath, throws a towel at Jaskier's face, and does, in fact, wait for the bard outside. Because Jaskier always takes far longer to put himself together than Geralt, who's slipped on his shirt and tied back his still damp hair with little care.

It's a warm night, but no longer oppressive with the heat of two months ago. For a moment, he can almost say being here isn't the worst thing. ]
gynvael: (Default)

[personal profile] gynvael 2021-11-21 10:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He doesn't glance over when Jaskier appears beside him, but he does move to fall into step with him as they begin to walk. Geralt had not pursued this between them for how it might change things; in fact, he'd done it explicitly for the opposite. A small reprieve that will leave no lasting consequences and that's what he wants. Other than that he now knows, without a doubt, that Jaskier has a certain strength in his fingers. ]

Worried you'll not make it without the mage girl?

[ Home. Even he's started to call it home, for ease. It settles strangely on his tongue. Home has been Kaer Morhen and nowhere else. Now he's been in Cadens for three months. Hasn't left far.

Perhaps there are worse places to be. With worse company.

He pushes open the door when they return. Ciri is not here, nor the other two who have started to move in. Hector and Rinwell. Geralt hasn't got any idea what's going on with the former, and he's not asked. Hector contributes and doesn't leave a mess, and Geralt only stops in to sleep or rest in any case. He pulls a jug of ale from the icebox—an invention he can admit is an improvement from what they have on the Continent—and pours a drink for the two of them. ]
gynvael: (155)

[personal profile] gynvael 2021-11-22 02:17 am (UTC)(link)
[ Of course he likes her. Rinwell is one of the few who gets the dubious honour of having Geralt admit as much easily, even if he will refer to her as the mage girl more than he will her name. She's a quick study, straightforward, and seems content with her books and a good meal. Doesn't ask too many questions, either. And she's good company for Ciri.

Besides, he sees it. The way she looks on occasion when he indicates her to join for supper, the few times he's there in the evenings. Like she both does not expect it and yet is quietly hopeful. He might've been discarded by his mother, but his childhood was not wholly spent alone. So. He thinks, if she wishes to spend hers with them while she's trapped here, he will not take that away from her.

He seats himself on the table, feet planted on a chair, and gathers up some bread and butter. He lets his eyes rake over Jaskier, because he can, and because there are things to appreciate.

He tears the bread in two. Bluntness has always been his trademark, but the coarseness is especially deliberate this time, as though he remembers how he'd been not an hour ago. (Too soft. Too wanting.) Which he doesn't regret. He just doesn't want that aura to linger. ]
I planned on fucking you behind that tavern.

[ That's both an admission and maybe a suggestion. It's also all he will say on the topic. For now. ]
gynvael: (011)

[personal profile] gynvael 2021-11-22 03:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Uh-huh. Geralt chooses not to explain why he didn't say so, since that necessitates explaining that the reason is because Jaskier's arm was more important. Though he'd gotten a tryst out of it nonetheless, so. One of the better decisions he's made. (A short list.)

Mostly, he's simply glad to see Jaskier both in better spirits and in less pain. He chews on bread that's too fresh for having sat about since yesterday. It's something he's noticed, almost immediately, if only because Geralt is long used to keeping an eye on stores of food. When you travel as much as he does, you know exactly how long certain rations last. And theirs have been lasting.

He almost doesn't want to ask. Unless Jaskier sold his soul to a demon, he's assumed this is just another spell Jaskier has picked up and hasn't said because it isn't flashy and interesting. Useful, though. ]


Don't get ahead of yourself, bard. [ That's not a no. ]
Edited 2021-11-22 15:49 (UTC)
gynvael: (026)

[personal profile] gynvael 2021-11-24 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Distinctly not.

Geralt bats the piece of bread aside, and ends up batting Jaskier aside, too, like a series of annoying flies. ]
Fuck off.

[ It's about as amiable of a fuck off as he ever gives. He lets Jaskier take over the bed, which for tonight will be Jaskier's bed alone. He thinks Jaskier could use the room to stretch out his arm and beyond that, Geralt is content, feels generally at ease, and would rather not spend the night growing increasingly irritated at having a cold foot dug into his spine. (Somehow, Jaskier's feet are always colder than a wraith dipped in ice.)

He makes his bed on the floor instead, where he does half the time anyhow, a pillow propped under his head. If his sleep has been restless as of late, it's a bit less so tonight. ]