Luckily he hadn't been trying to drink when Jaskier leaned in and suggested that he use Geralt as a mount, because he might have choked-- which would have been unflattering and probably misleading considering the way his cock gave an interested lurch despite the ill-worded entendre. There was something in the way Jaskier fumbled over his normally adroit tongue that was endearing in a way that Geralt wouldn't let himself linger on. The blush wasn't bad either.

"I'm sure," he said evenly, "whoever that lucky person is, they will be absolutely flattered to be compared to a horse. Perhaps you can compose a ballad about their long face, or thick haunches." There was no smile on his face for the tease and Geralt took a careful pull of his beer, watching Jaskier over the rim.