Geralt, once again, crowded him back against the wall--but this time, Jaskier did half the work for him, scrambling back just as quickly as he'd surged forward. Geralt loomed like he was made for it and, in a rather macabre way, he was--those amber eyes eclipsed everything else that Jaskier could have focused on and, all at once his heart was pounding so hard he thought it might jump out of his ribs.
He had just been livid--absolutely beyond the pale--Geralt had been--what was happening--
Jaskier's offense was choked off firmly as Geralt confirmed his desires--and then his hand was heavy and pressed right against his groin and Jaskier's breath stuttered a bit. He tried very hard to focus but the smell of Geralt was all around him all at once and the Witcher was growling his conditions--damn it all, he was frazzled. It took quite a lot to reroute himself, to change the flow of his thoughts from fighting to, well, whatever this had become. Fucking wasn't a contest to the bard and the diversion from one to the promise of the other was not a smooth one.
His thoughts jumped but he managed to parrot back Geralt's conditions. Mostly.
"No ribald comments," Jaskier promised idly, his expression shifting to some semblance of shock and somber agreement all at once. He nodded firmly, if only in an attempt to clear his head, and his cock jumped under Geralt's hand. "No wooing, yes, right--no--none of it--"
That oath fell out of him before he thought it over and the moment he said it, Jaskier felt a sinking sensation in his chest. It was foolish, idiotic, but Jaskier was a romantic at heart--to be stripped of the chance to--they weren't lovers? Well, of course Geralt didn't love him, to think otherwise was lunacy--but he couldn't woo him? Couldn't flirt?
Jaskier felt momentarily bereft and lacked the wherewithal to explain.
"Geralt, I--" Jaskier started but, Gods' thinking was hard. He really did let his cock do too much of his focusing for him. Geralt had admitted to wanting him. That was enough--it was more than he'd had before. Friendship and this...was enough. "I want you--please--"
no subject
He had just been livid--absolutely beyond the pale--Geralt had been--what was happening--
Jaskier's offense was choked off firmly as Geralt confirmed his desires--and then his hand was heavy and pressed right against his groin and Jaskier's breath stuttered a bit. He tried very hard to focus but the smell of Geralt was all around him all at once and the Witcher was growling his conditions--damn it all, he was frazzled. It took quite a lot to reroute himself, to change the flow of his thoughts from fighting to, well, whatever this had become. Fucking wasn't a contest to the bard and the diversion from one to the promise of the other was not a smooth one.
His thoughts jumped but he managed to parrot back Geralt's conditions. Mostly.
"No ribald comments," Jaskier promised idly, his expression shifting to some semblance of shock and somber agreement all at once. He nodded firmly, if only in an attempt to clear his head, and his cock jumped under Geralt's hand. "No wooing, yes, right--no--none of it--"
That oath fell out of him before he thought it over and the moment he said it, Jaskier felt a sinking sensation in his chest. It was foolish, idiotic, but Jaskier was a romantic at heart--to be stripped of the chance to--they weren't lovers? Well, of course Geralt didn't love him, to think otherwise was lunacy--but he couldn't woo him? Couldn't flirt?
Jaskier felt momentarily bereft and lacked the wherewithal to explain.
"Geralt, I--" Jaskier started but, Gods' thinking was hard. He really did let his cock do too much of his focusing for him. Geralt had admitted to wanting him. That was enough--it was more than he'd had before. Friendship and this...was enough. "I want you--please--"