Chapter Text
Geralt took a deep pull from his ale and sank further into the splintered and cracked bench he was seated on. If he were the type of man to display any outward sign of content, he might have closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, enjoying the moment of simple peace. The sounds of the pub around him were quieter than usual, the townspeople mostly ignoring the presence of the witcher. He’d take indifference over outright hatred any day.
And then, as always with his shit streak of luck, the moment was broken as a man sat down across from him, setting down two ales between them on the scarred table.
An uncommonly attractive man gazed back at him, sitting far back against the bench with an open and non-aggressive posture. Geralt did not immediately reach for his hilt.
“Witcher.”
Geralt hmmed expectantly, downing the rest of his ale and made to stand up.
“We have a friend in common, Geralt of Rivia. Perhaps you recall crossing paths with Yennefer of Vengeberg recently?”
Geralt let his weight fall heavily back onto the bench and sneered at the man.
“Didn’t think Yen had friends. Just those she used, or those who got in her way.”
“Well, then let’s say I’m one of the former. My name is Istredd.”
“A Ban Ard boy, then? I think our business is concluded here.”
Geralt rose out of his seat and took two steps towards the door. Istredd caught him by the forearm with a surprisingly strong grip. Geralt ripped out of his grasp sharply and caught him by the wrist in turn.
“Touch me again and I will take the limb as payment.”
He let go and Istredd lifted both arms, palms forward and shrugging.
“I meant no offence, Witcher, but there is a conversation I would very much like to have with you, and I will pay you handsomely for your time. It has nothing to do with our mutual friend, if that makes a difference.”
The offer of payment makes Geralt pause against his own better judgement. Istredd slid the second ale across the table, towards Geralt.
“Hmm.”
He sat back down and lifted the ale.
“You have until I finish this. Talk.”
“And I imagine you’re quite the accomplished drinker. Well then, to make a long story short, my focus as a mage has long been looking back into our history, and the history of the Continent. During one of my recent excavations, I came across some rather interesting artifacts that seem to give a whole new perspective on you Witchers.”
Geralt put down the ale, now three quarters empty, and simply stared blankly at Istredd. The man across from him smiled warmly, as if more amused than offended, and reached to his belt to take a heavy coin purse and toss it onto the table next to Geralt’s ale. It was a heavy sound of clanking gold. One small corner of Geralt’s lips twitched upwards, and he exaggeratedly took an incredibly small sip of the remaining drink.
“Tell me Geralt, during your training at Kaer Morhen, did you ever come across the term ‘sentinel’?”
Kaer Morhen would be a sore subject for any Witcher, but perhaps especially so for Geralt. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. Took a larger drink of ale.
“Yes, well, I suppose that doesn’t surprise me. And you probably completed the Trial of the Grasses well before you would have awakened…”
Istredd trailed off and sat in an easy, contemplative silence for a moment.
Geralt finished the ale and pointedly set the flagon down firmly.
“If that’s all…?”
He fisted the coin purse and tucked it underneath his own on his side.
“I can see it will take more than ale and coin to open your lips.”
Istredd smiled sharply before continuing.
“Perhaps our paths will cross again tomorrow, and you will be in more of a conversational mood.”
Geralt’s hackles were immediately risen at his tone and the, frankly, bold insult, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
“Til we next meet, Witcher.”
And with that, Istredd made his way quickly out the door into the night.
Geralt continued to stand next to the table, an incredibly vast sense of unease settling over him. The longer he stood, the more the other patrons of the pub put effort into avoiding his general direction.
He finished weighing his options and made towards the door to follow the man. As he opened the door with an excessive amount of force, the body on the other side was propelled directly into him.
“Geralt!”
It was Jaskier.
“Hmm.”
He steadied the other man and shifted him off to the side so that he could continue his pursuit.
“And now where are we off to in such a rush? I don’t recall there being a single point of interest in this entire town!”
Ignoring him, Geralt surveyed the area, looking for a trace of the mage.
Fuck. Nothing. Must have portalled out. A smarter man than he seemed, then.
“Geralt, whatever has got you all worked up can surely be resolved in the morning. I’ve secured us a room at the only decent inn in this tumbleweed of a village. And though I hate to say it, no signs yet of any possible jobs for your type, so coin will be quite low after this stay.”
Geralt turned towards him and reached to his waist to gather the coin he had just earned. He tossed it to Jaskier uncaringly. Jaskier bobbled the purse as he tried to get a good grip on it.
“I am gobsmacked, Geralt, how the hell did you come across this? Have you been holding out on me, witcher?!”
Geralt gave him an especially toothy grin.
“Earned it just now. By having a conversation.”
Jaskier choked on his own laughter.
“Well that’s a load of horseshit if I ever heard it. But keep your secrets, I don’t truly care where it came from as long as it means better food and better lodgings! You know, this wouldn’t make a terribly engaging song, but it might make for a good limerick. Geralt of Rivia, ne’er to be blessed with gold / except for what earned by profession of old / killing beasts with a stick / saving queens with a trick / or pleasing a woman with his huge Witcher -”
Geralt slapped a hand over Jaskier’s mouth.
“Finish that sentence, I dare you.”
He felt Jaskier’s mouth curl into a devious grin underneath his hand. He held it there for another moment to make his point, and then let go with a gentle slap against the bard’s cheek.
“Lead the way to the inn.”
---
Geralt had expected sleep to be hard to find with his sense of paranoia so finely aroused, but it came easily enough. Jaskier’s never-ending stream of consciousness served as a decent lullaby most nights, and the bard had been in rare form that evening.
Hours passed quietly as the men slept.
And then, in the smallest hours of the night, Geralt began shifting restlessly in his bed. The unusual amount of noise from his companion woke Jaskier, and he looked concernedly into the dark across the room in the direction of the witcher. A night terror, he thought sadly. They didn’t happen very frequently, but Jaskier had seen a few in his years spent bedding down next to Geralt.
Not wanting to disturb him, but not able to let the man continue to suffer, Jaskier slipped out from under his covers to gingerly make his way over to the pitcher of water near the door. He wouldn’t risk waking Geralt, for the man was likely to try and take his head off if awoken suddenly, but perhaps he could leave a glass of water nearby for when he rose to take the edge off.
As he neared Geralt’s bed, he realized he could hear the sound of heavily grinding teeth, and the sheets being torn in his hands. Jaskier shifted his weight back and forth, wondering if there wasn’t in fact a safe way to rouse his friend. He took a few steps closer to the side of the bed, not being able to see it but feeling along the side of the straw mattress to judge the distance. The entire mattress felt warm, and damp with sweat. Geralt’s thrashing grew more pronounced. Jaskier was at a loss, he felt a soul-deep need to help the man in any way that he could. He felt an odd sensation at the base of his neck, one that he had only felt a few times before in his life when faced with a desperate need. He reached out his hand towards what he was guessing was Geralt’s shin, when the man startled him with a loud growl ripping out of his throat. Jaskier sloshed the water in the glass he was holding and it splashed down onto the sleeping man.
Geralt bolted upright, ripping the sheet off of him and half rolling, half leaping out of the bed. The moment his feet touched the rough wooden floor, he exhaled sharply, a sound more commonly heard after he had been stabbed or worse by a monster. Seconds later, he clasped both hands around his ears and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, hunching over like a wounded animal.
Jaskier jumped back away from the vague, dark form and dropped the glass of water. Though he couldn’t see Geralt too clearly, he could tell the man flinched at the moment the glass impacted the floor. He’d never see the man react this way to anything, even the most serious of wounds.
Biting back an overwhelming amount of worry, he hesitantly called out.
---
“Geralt?”
Geralt’s world was on fire. It was on fire, it was drowning him, freezing over him, even the very air itself was clawing at his skin. Every sensation was like knives and needles against him, every sound like the loudest thunder or the shrillest screech. The low light of the room may as well have been midday sun out in the desert. The smells, the sheer variety and strength of each smell was enough to make his head explode - the scents of humans living in their own filth, the animals, the decaying food in the kitchens below…
It felt like it was all building, building, building endlessly, and there was only so much more he could take. Geralt had experienced pain of which many could never even comprehend and this far surpassed every wound in battle, every trial in Kaer Morhen, even the soul wrenching pain of being abandoned on an empty road…
An end was coming. What sort of end, he couldn’t tell, but he could feel deep down that it was a true end. Not just darkness to take him after the end of consciousness, but a great gaping chasm of nothingness… and he felt fear. For the first time in decades, the sensation gripped his whole body. And fear was only the first thing to come back… he felt every emotion he had ever had suppressed form a tidal wave, racing down at him. He would drown, burn, fade and there was nothing to hold it all back…
Until…
“Geralt?”
---
Jaskier held his breath immediately after saying the man’s name. Geralt froze, no sound, no movement from his direction. The stillness dragged out for an unbearable amount of time.
A soft wooshing sound, and the four candles in the room lit up.
Jaskier could see Geralt crouched in a ball, almost on all fours on the rough inn floor, not moving save for taking some very shallow breaths.
The sensation at the base of his neck expanded, his whole brain feeling like it’s getting heavier by the second. The pressure was insistent.
Not quite ready to reach out, Jaskier crouched down an arm’s length away from Geralt and fell back on what he knew.
“Geralt, are you alright? I’ve never seen you like this, and I’ll be quite happy to never see you this way again if I can be honest. Is it some sort of magic? Some spell that’s been cast upon you? ...Geralt?”
He fell back into silence, unsure of what to try next.
“Don’t…”
Geralt’s voice sounded hoarse, as if he had spent hours screaming and screaming without end.
“Don’t… what? Don’t talk, is it? “Shut up, Jaskier, your incessant chatter is only making my incredible manpain worse?” Is that it?”
“Don’t… stop talking.”
“Geralt, I understand that something is very clearly seriously wrong with you but I can’t help if you don’t make any sense. Shut up or no? What shall I do?”
“Keep talking, bard, if you want to live to see the morning.”
Jaskier was… shocked into silence. Unhelpfully.
“Well, I… how is it that you manage to ask for help and threaten me in the same breath? You are entirely full of shit, Geralt! Here I am, already risking my neck to help your unstable ass and all you can do is - oh -”
Geralt abruptly stood up and he was...very naked. Though Jaskier frequently saw this sight, for some reason it made him pause.
“How about we find you some clothes and then sit and talk about this like adults? I can get you some more water and we can figure out what’s happened…”
Jaskier turned to the door.
“Don’t! Don’t… leave. Stay...close… to me.”
Every word sounded like it was being forced out of Geralt against his own will, but Jaskier could feel the truth of it beneath the words. He turned to face the man again.
Geralt looked completely drained of life, as if he had fought an entire army of drowners, followed by a pack of wargs and then a horde of dragons. He sat heavily on the edge of his bed and buried his head in his hands.
Jaskier was compelled to go to him, both consciously and unconsciously. He sat down next to Geralt, leaving a few inches of space between their thighs.
“What did I say about talking, Jaskier?”
Geralt said it with the vaguest sense of humor, and Jaskier let out a heavy sigh of relief.
“I hope you remember this moment, Geralt, because I know I will. The time that you admit that you DO in fact love my voice, and that I am indeed the greatest bard you have ever known slash will ever know. Now, is there anything I can do to help you with...whatever is going on?”
Geralt didn’t change position, but his shoulders sagged a little more.
“I don’t exactly know what’s happening. I feel… I feel.”
“You feel…. What? Angry? Excited? Tired? What do you fe- OH, you feel? How is that possible?”
“Not sure, but if I were a gambling man I’d say it has to do with that mage from earlier.”
“What mage from earlier?! Wait, is that where you got the coin? Could it be the coin that’s cursed somehow to affect your witcherly ways?!”
“Hmm. That’s not a bad thought, Jaskier. Bring the purse over?”
Jaskier immediately hopped off towards his clothes to rifle through for the coin. Finding it quickly, he handed it over to Geralt, who had lifted his head up to look at him. His pupils had almost swallowed up the gold of his irises, as if experiencing an overwhelming amount of input from his surroundings. He reached out one hand to take the purse, and as Jaskier dropped it into his hand, their fingers brushed. Barely.
But it was enough.
Jaskier blindly reached for Geralt as light exploded behind his eyelids, and he felt the man in return grasping his arm and yanking him in. They collided heavily, but neither moved away, only moved to try and press further into each other, looking for as much contact as possible.
The coin purse fell to the floor, coins spilling out and scattering in every direction as Jaskier pushed at Geralt’s limbs in an attempt to climb into his lap. Geralt pulled the man into his chest, wrapping his arms around him with all his strength. The frenzy of movement stopped as suddenly as it started, both men breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together.
For a heartbeat, silence. Then, Jaskier.
“Uh, hello. Hi. This is new! Not, not that I’m complaining, mind you, but I certainly haven’t felt an impulse like that that strongly since the last time yo-WELL what I mean is that I’m not sure that was a totally normal thing to happen. Right? Am I right?”
Geralt took a long, deep inhale, and let out a long, deep exhale.
“Something is incredibly...not right. But I do feel better than I did upon waking, so let’s not examine this too much.”
“Let’s not examine - so I’m just to sit here on your lap while you have a think? Have a little noodle on what to do next while I’m just casually straddling your massive, naked thighs? Hmmmmmm?”
Geralt moved his forehead away so that Jaskier has a full view of him rolling his eyes at him. They were both still tightly clutching at each other, but seeing Geralt’s normal level of exasperation calmed Jaskier a bit.
“Right. Okay, right. So do we test the coin for magic? How do we test the coin for magic? Geralt, you’re wincing again. Is this another moment where you’d like me to shut up and/or not shut up?
“No, I just...things are getting loud again. Too loud.”
Without too much thought towards it, Jaskier brought his hands up to massage at Geralt’s temples. Geralt’s face smoothed out and he leaned heavily towards Jaskier. Who was… still straddling the man.
“You know, I think I’m just going to go get that water I was going to get a millenia ago when this conversation started, so if I just-”
He trailed off as he moved to slide back to his feet. Geralt immediately latched on to his waist with both hands and stopped the movement.
“No.”
“”No” he says. Okay then, Geralt, what shall I do? How will we get ourselves out of this one?”
No response.
“Oh, and now he chooses to go silent and brooding again. Yes, perfect timing Geralt, let’s all be mysterious and shady about whatever the hell is happening here.”
Despite his words to the contrary, Jaskier stayed put. Not that he really could have moved if he wanted to, anyways.
“Something’s not right...in my head.”
Jaskier waited a beat.
“With an opener like that… Geralt, how many jokes do you think I can make in the next few moments. Give me a second here to get them all organized by level of obviousness, and then I’ll give it a go-”
“Jaskier. Understand that even though you are helping now, I will still hurt you.”
And to prove his point, he pinched Jaskier’s side.
“Rude! So rude, Geralt! Be gentle with me!”
Huffing softly, Geralt leans in and knocks his forehead against Jaskier’s chest a few times.
“I don’t think it can be the coin. For something to affect me, like this, I would have had to ingest it… the ale.”
“That mage slipped something in your drink, did he? Not much of a gentleman, then. But I thought you were immune to all poisons? With your strong, witcherly constitution?”
“I am, but I guess if this was a magic poison, or just a potion of some kind, it could affect me with a powerful enough spell behind it.”
“And this mage, couldn’t happen to have been working for a familiar sorceress, could he? One Yennefer of Vengeberg, perhaps? Seems like the type of foul magic she would do.”
“Jaskier, I know you don’t like Yen, but this isn’t her. She and I have...an understanding, and there’s no gain right now for her to kill me.”
“”An understanding?” Yes, I know, I’ve walked in on that understanding enough times to know, thank you. And it’s not like this is killing you, is it? Something else is happening.”
“It must be something to do with that mage, Istredd, and whatever nonsense he was bleating about the history of Witchers.”
Jaskier grabbed both sides of Geralt’s head and pulled it back so he could look straight into his eyes.
“Geralt, you are not this dull, I know that for a fact. I saw you in Calanthe’s court, playing the diplomat and the charmer when you had to. OF COURSE this has something to do with that. Did this Istredd say anything else?”
He let go of Geralt’s head and awkwardly let his hands flop around back down onto his shoulders, not quite sure where else to put them. He was still just...sitting in this man’s lap.
“He didn’t say much-”
“More like you didn’t let him say much-”
“Yes, thank you Jaskier. He didn’t say much, but he did ask about my training, and specifically the final trial before becoming a Witcher.”
“Wait! Before you go on, let me get my quill and parchment, you never give me any of this kind of detail, and I may never get a chance again-”
“Jaskier!”
Geralt’s tone was firm, but this close Jaskier could see the fond upward lilt of his lips. This much expression was already miles away from normal, but Jaskier couldn’t help but like the change. He could always feel somewhere inside that Geralt liked him well enough, but seeing it plainly on his face was a reward unto itself.
“Yes, alright, another time then. Go on.”
“It’s like whatever he gave me, undid some of what the trials had done. The purge of the emotions, the control of the senses, it’s all been...dissolved somehow.”
Jaskier bit his lip, almost afraid to ask.
“Does it feel...permanent?”
Geralt frowned.
“Not if I manage to catch that mage. I think, maybe, in the meantime, we should leave this town. It might be safer to be out away from all these people while I’m dealing with this.”
“That sounds sensible. I’ll go ahead and-”
There was an enormous crash below them as the front door to the inn was thrown wildly open. A frantic voice cried out, “Rotfiend! Out by the Chalmer’s home! Where is that Witcher?!”
The noise badly affected Geralt, who shoved Jaskier off of him to cover his own ears as he let out a pained groan. He fell back onto the bed proper and curled protectively around himself.
“Geralt!”
Jaskier surged off the ground to go to the man, but was stopped by a pounding on their door. The innkeeper called angrily through the wood.
“Witcher! Wake up and take care o’ this! We’ll pay ye, jes’ get a move on!”
Jaskier opened the door just far enough to look at the innkeeper.
“Yes, yes, alright, we’re on our way out!”
He snarled and slammed the door in the man’s face, whirling around to check in on his witcher.
The man was not in a good state, but Jaskier was not an entirely unobservant man. Soft spoken words and a soft touch had done the job before, and he hoped they would do it again. The pulsing in his head steadily grew.
He approached the bed and gently laid his hand on one of Geralt’s bare ankles.
“Geralt, we need to help these people. You need to help these people. What can I do to help you?”
Geralt relaxed slightly, and nodded through gritted teeth to acknowledge that he had heard Jaskier. Jaskier noticed he had gone from holding the man’s ankle to gently stroking up and down his calf, and forced his hand to stop.
“Get me my armor. And my swords.”
---
Though it had taken longer than normal, Geralt and Jaskier exited the inn at a run to find where ever the Rotfiend had come upon the village. There was no shortage of villagers out and about now to shout at them and point them in the direction of the necrophage. Jaskier tried to stay close and kept an eye on Geralt as the man’s eyes squinted in pain at the sounds, sights and smells of a terrified village.
Geralt knew they were close far sooner than normal, even with his standard enhanced senses. The smell was incredibly foul and he almost gagged from the stench. As soon as it came into plain view, he halted his sprint and put an arm out to catch Jaskier.
“Stay here.”
“I mean, you don’t need to ask me twice, but are you sure? If my being close helps with, you know, the thing that is currently going on, maybe I should stay a little closer than normal.”
Geralt growled, both out of pain and impatience.
“Jaskier, I don’t have time for this. It’s one solitary Rotfiend, and I cannot risk you getting injured. Stay. Here.”
Jaskier opened and closed his mouth a few times out of surprise at the plainness of Geralt’s sentence and watched the man take off running towards the creature.
Truth be told, Geralt felt far less confident in his capability to take on anything beyond a simple wolf or arachnas at this very moment, but he wasn’t going to let anyone else know that.
Jaskier harrumphed where he stood, feeling somehow Geralt’s apprehension running into this battle.
With only a dozen yards between him and the Rotfiend, the creature seemed to pause and turn it’s eyeless face directly at Geralt. Instead of disappearing, as it typically might when facing a threat, it let out an awful shriek and suddenly five more of its friends appeared out of the darkness to join it.
“Fuck.”
It was too late to try and find whatever mass grave had attracted the creatures, and too late to try and run and give himself some distance to formulate a plan.
The sounds of their rotting flesh and the horrific scent were pushing Geralt towards that brink he had felt earlier, that gaping chasm…
“Geralt! Heads up!”
He saw out of the corner of his eye Jaskier, much closer than he had left him, lobbing what looked like was one of Geralt’s bombs towards the mass of Rotfiends. Using every ounce of his enhanced reflexes, he threw himself in the opposite direction of the creatures. Turning his back to the explosion, he hastily signalled at Jaskier to return the direction he had come from. Jaskier shook his head stubbornly and planted his feet.
When he whirled to face the remaining fiends, he saw he had only had two left to contend with, but the noxious gases released by the dead fiends overwhelmed him and he heaved heavily, folding over from the power of the revulsion. One of the remaining took the opportunity to clamber onto Geralt’s back, rotting hands going for his throat. Collecting himself, and ignoring Jaskier calling his name, he threw the creature off of him and in one movement, unsheathed his sword and removed it’s head from its body.
That left only one.
Who, of course, had decided that Jaskier looked an appealing enough target and was pursuing the man doggedly.
Panic. That was an emotion Geralt could at first not place, but then felt with all the bluntness of a door shut in his face.
He wildly took off sprinting after the pair, all his senses zeroing in on Jaskier. He could see, smell, taste, hear and feel the man’s fear and it was beyond description.
Jaskier was putting up a good chase, dodging around trees and a broken down wagon to put obstacles between him and his pursuer, but Rotfiends were fast little shits, and not as stupid as they looked. It managed to grab the back of Jaskier’s coat and yank him towards the ground. Jaskier kicked out immediately, forcing the fiend to take a step back, and rolled to his feet to begin running again. This bought just enough time for Geralt to catch up to him. The creature grasped Jaskier again, this time firmly by the shoulder, but Geralt was close enough to sever the limb at the elbow. Jaskier was thrown forward by the force of his own resistance, and Geralt faced the Rotfiend properly, putting a boot in the center of it’s chest and forcing it backward. Once it was in swinging range, he struck at it with his sword, cursing as it dodged quickly out of the way and hopped further out of the way.
Despite being engaged in a battle, his senses were still firmly zoned in on Jaskier, and could feel the man’s fear mixed with relief as Geralt stood surely between him and the fiend.
Distantly, Geralt could hear the approach of the villagers, as they seemed to think the battle was largely won.
With just a few swift strokes of his sword, he sent the other arm and the head of the creature flying in opposite directions of the body. He barely had a moment to breathe in relief when he realized the innkeeper was running towards them...with a lit torch.
Knowing the torch would ignite the fumes from the now dead Rotfiend, Geralt moved without even thinking and leapt for Jaskier, covering him with his body as the gases caught fire and immolated the innkeeper. The only thought in his head was to keep the man under him safe.
He could feel Jaskier screaming more than hear it, as his senses were now consumed with the burning sensation he could feel through his armor. He felt the man’s breath against his lips as he panted. He could see the man’s eyes squeezed shut out of fear. He felt the man’s hands flail around until they grabbed his own, gloved and covered with the viscous remains of the fiends. The flames began to dissipate. One hand slid up, pushing up Geralt’s sleeve and grasping his bare wrist and that was…
---
Jaskier’s terror was more muted than usual, though his close call with the Rotfiend looking to make him an early breakfast was not ideal, and the almost burning alive… well, he may have been screaming but honestly, it was just reflex at this point.
Geralt’s bodyweight over him was far more soothing than he ever planned to let the man know, but he needed something more to reassure him they were both okay. Abandoning his hold on the witcher’s hands, he searched for bare skin, something inside him whispering that it was needed contact.
The second his fingers brushed that skin, he felt every muscle in Geralt’s body tense.
As the last of the flames died down, Geralt pulled his head slowly back and stared down at Jaskier. They looked at each other silently before Geralt lunged down at him, digging his teeth viciously into the side of Jaskier’s neck while ripping out of Jaskier’s grasp, grabbing his wrists and pinning them both to the ground.
Jaskier didn’t even make a sound. He felt a rush of warm so rapid and so chaotic that he thought perhaps he had caught fire. His head pounded like his brain was trying to escape his skull. One hand rushed to the back of Geralt’s head, fingers twining through his hair and forcing his mouth further down onto his neck, while the other wrapped around his back, closing the small gap between the rest of their bodies.
Geralt released the skin in his mouth with a growl, staying close to lick at the bite mark and worry the skin around the edges. He butted the side of his head into Jaskier’s affectionately and squeezed the man’s wrists, held to the ground as they were.
“Not to.. Not to interrupt whatever this is, in fact, please continue, but also please let me know that you haven’t been somehow turned into a fiend yourself and plan on eating me? Because I-fuck, Geralt!”
Jaskier shoved his hips up into Geralt’s uncontrollably as the man bit down a second time.
“Not a fiend. I may eat you up though.”
Geralt sounded slightly breathless as he responded, but close to his normal self.
“Yes, ha. Ha ha. Hilarious, Geralt. What I’d like to...oh sweet merciful… what I’d like to know is what is happeningggg again, again, bite me again because I’ve never felt this blessedly fucking turned on in my life and fuck! I just need to know if you’re with me, Witcher.”
Geralt did not even have the decency to stop grinding his cock down into Jaskier’s as he responded.
“I’m with you, Jaskier, and I’ll be in you if you could shut up for a moment and take your clothes off.”
Geralt let go of Jaskier’s wrists to roughly grab his hips, pushing down even harder into the man below him. He was trailing short, sweet kisses up and down the front of the bard’s throat when the man...flicked him in the center of the forehead.
Geralt looked up, disbelieving at the gall of the man, and saw the cheeky grin on the man’s face.
“Can we hang on to that thought for a moment or two? It’s just, we have an audience. And also, you’re covered in...yuck.”
Geralt looked further afield to see that a group of brave (or nosy) villagers had hung around, even after watching one of their own idiots set himself on fire.
Chuckling softly, he let his head drop onto Jaskier’s shoulder and breathed his scent in deeply.
“I’m not so sure about our welcome back in the town, but I can hear a stream nearby if my current state of cleanliness is a deal-breaker.”
“Yes, well, that- that seems like a reasonable compromise!”
Neither of them moved a hair.
“I don’t think I can… let you go.”
“Geralt…”
“Hmm.”
Geralt shifted his weight back into a kneeling position, bringing Jaskier with him. They continued to breath in each other’s air, take in each other’s scent and generally feel like nothing else in the world could touch them.
“If we don’t get moving, I don’t think I’ll care much about an audience and there is such a thing as bad publicity-”
“It’s only bad publicity for you if you don’t want this village to see you mounted and ridden like a desperate whore.”
“Fucking - Geralt, well now that you’ve verbally bent me over, can we get on with it? Let’s find this stream before I take my pleasure myself and leave you out of it!”
“Hmm.”
Geralt easily lifted the bard and slung him over one shoulder as he stood up and turned towards the woods without so much as a nod at the villagers.
“Ooooooh yes, well this is entirely dignified, Geralt, thank you. My reputation will precede me everywhere I go as the-”
He stopped mid-ramble as Geralt sharply slapped his ass.
“Stop talking or make peace with being fucked by a witcher covered in rotfiend gristle.”
It took everything Jaskier had not to respond scathingly to that statement, but he could feel Geralt’s already thin patience fraying, so he kept his silence.
But only for another five hundred paces or so.
“You know, I do recall earlier there was a time that you asked me to ta-AH!”
Jaskier landed back first into a shallow stream, fully submerging and coming up for air gasping. Before he could gather his wits, he felt Geralt reel him in and kiss him. Geralt gripped him by the back of his neck and kissed him through any additional words he tried to form, licking into his mouth and gently biting his lips. Jaskier abandoned the need to have the last work and threw himself at the witcher, unashamed of any desperation he felt. He knew it was mutual. He could feel Geralt’s other hand yanking on the ties to his own armor to remove the chest piece, briefly separating so he could toss it over his head to the bank of the stream. They crashed back together, Jaskier letting out soft moans as he grasped at Geralt’s gloves, yanking them off. The vambraces and pauldrons followed quickly and once the armor was fully removed, Geralt dunked himself under the water.
“Clean enough for you, Jaskier?”
“Geralt, your hair is a disaster and I’m certain there are decaying guts on your pants but I could not give one ounce of a fuck right now, shut up and kiss me some more.”
Geralt huffed in amusement and slid his arms more sedately around Jaskier, hands meeting in the center of his back and then slowly sliding down to palm his ass.
“Just kiss? Because whatever this is, a kiss doesn’t seem like it will satisfy it.”
“I know you think I’m a romantic, but all I want right now is for you to look me in the eyes and make me come until I can’t remember my own name.”
Geralt leaned down to find the mark he had left early, and let his lips brush against it softly as he spoke.
“It’s a good thing you’re not looking for romance, because my dick is hard as fucking nails and I am sorely lacking any control whatsoever. But I think I can manage looking into your eyes, if that does it for you.”
Jaskier let out a shaky breath and clung a little tighter to Geralt’s shoulders.
“You know I hardly recall agreeing to letting you put your cock anywhere near my a-”
His mouth snapped shut as Geralt gently rubbed a finger against his hole through the cotton of his pants. He shuddered and pushed back into the touch, tucking his head against the man’s chest.
“I thought you wanted heavy and seductive eye contact, Jaskier?”
Jaskier wanted...everything. He wanted to look into this man’s eyes and know how vital he was to him. How whatever connection they had felt earlier was only growing. How somehow, Jaskier was Geralt’s strength and Geralt was his.
He also desperately wanted to get fucked.
Acting on instinct, he pressed one of his hands over the Witcher’s heart and cupped another against his cheek. Looking right into his eyes, near staring Geralt down, he tried to relay the intensity was experiencing. He tried to show him how he intrinsically knew they could work together, Geralt protecting the world from monsters and Jaskier protecting Geralt from the world. How the joked-about romance would only be one small part of this bond. How fucking incredible the sex would be.
Something burned in them simultaneously, and like lightning, a connection formed, striking into each of them.
They had no more time or use for words, Geralt removing every shred of clothing on Jaskier’s body by sheer force, ripping and rending the expensive fabric without a thought or care. Jaskier shoved Geralt’s linen shirt up into his armpits just to get at bare skin while he eagerly pressed his open mouth to Geralt’s. They both went for the laces on Geralt’s trousers at the same moment, clumsily getting in each other’s way, clawing at them desperately.
Geralt tore the laces straight out of their ties and released his cock, pressing up against Jaskier’s immediately. There was no finesse, no art to their movements, they simply pressed as close as possible, grinding and thrusting against each other’s skin. Geralt was sliding kisses up and down Jaskier’s jaw as Jaskier bit and licked his own lips, turned on beyond all reason. After barely a few more messy seconds, they both came loudly on each’s others skin and cocks. Panting as if they had just run leagues and leagues on foot, Jaskier let his head drop against the side of Geralt’s, happily clinging to the man.
Shockingly, Geralt broke the silence.
“Fuck. That was...intense.”
Jaskier huffed a laugh.
“Geralt, that is exactly the type of tryst that bards like myself write about.”
“Hmm. And it’s not over yet.”
Geralt pushed his hips gently forward, and Jaskier was slightly surprised to find the man already half hard.
“Now this is a Witcher-adjacent benefit I can get behind. Allow me…”
He wrapped a fist around his cock and started to slide down to his knees in the water. Geralt stopped him.
“No, together.”
“Together? Geralt, only one of us here has a magic cock. My poor mortal body just can’t handl-ahhHHHH well then alright, have it your way!”
Geralt had lifted him and dragged him back towards the edge of the stream, laying him out on his stomach on the sandy bank.
Geralt could somehow feel that there was no apprehension, not even a slight twinge of anxiety from the bard at his position, and grinned faintly to himself.
“Well? I’m eagerly awaiting whatever masterful sexual prowess you think you have.”
“Hmm.”
Geralt leaned over Jaskier, planting one hand on either side of his rib cage, pausing for a moment to let the man simply feel his presence.
Jaskier, never one to say still or quiet, shifted to bring an arm underneath him. Geralt pressed a hand between his shoulder blades and guided him back down.
Starting at the top of his spine, Geralt nosed and licked his way down to the crest of Jaskier’s ass, taking smug note of the sensitive twitches of the other man. He teasingly closed his teeth around the flesh of one asscheek just to watch Jaskier jump.
“And just what are you getting up to back there, Master Witcher?”
“You know Jaskier, I do believe I discovered earlier the one thing that would make you shut up?”
“Oh? Do tell, what might that- fucking ahhhHHHH”
Geralt licked another stroke directly across his asshole without waiting for the man to recover. The noises Jaskier was making weren’t quite words, but were terribly close to singing. It was incredibly gratifying. Geralt pushed his tongue more firmly against the tight ring of muscle, just to add pressure but not quite to penetrate. Jaskier’s hips bucked helplessly back against the pressure. Geralt got a hold of the back of both of Jaskier’s thighs to help keep him in place. He laved a few more passes of his tongue, and then pursued a course downwards to the space behind Jaskier’s balls. He placed a kiss and then the lightest of nips on that small strip of flesh and heard the high pitched shriek that ripped out of Jaskier’s throat, allowing him to find his words again.
“Oh gods, Geralt, please please please, do something, anything, fucking touch me, gods…”
Geralt rubbed the skin of his thighs briefly and returned his attentions to the man’s ass. Gathering the spit in his mouth, he pushed the edge of his tongue through the ring of muscle and dragged it slowly back out. The bard made no noise other than the surprised catch of his breath and then a long shaky exhale.
“It’s a shame, Jaskier, but I don’t think I can actually fuck you here.”
“No, no, we can definitely do that Geralt, please, please, I need you to fuck me.”
“Jaskier, think. I have no way to ease the penetration here. My spit is not enough to slick you up for... my size.”
Jaskier went slightly limp in Geralt’s hold, and he sighed heavily.
“You’re right, of course. I’ve come to know and appreciate that horse cock of yours and you would absolutely leave me in pieces.”
“Appreciate, huh?”
“Yes, alright, you are massively hung and I fucking love your giant cock. Are you happy, Geralt?”
“Hmm. Yes. Also, you’re hard again.”
“Well spotted, I am indeed hard again, with whatever dark Witcher magic you’ve managed to conjure. How do you plan to fix that?”
Geralt slid his hands up Jaskier’s thighs to the junction of his hips, and then easily used his strength to lift the man’s hips high off the ground. Jaskier drew his elbows underneath him for balance, but did not make an effort to rise any further. Spitting into his palm and rubbing it generously over his cock, Geralt parted the man’s asscheeks and slid in between them.
“Hmm… I think I can figure something out.”
He pushed forward, catching the rim of Jaskier’s asshole on the end of his cock, and then slowly dragged himself back across it.
“Oh fuck.. That’s it Geralt, you’ve ended me, I’ll never be able to have sex with a beautiful woman ever ag-”
Geralt snarled and thrust down harder into his ass, cock sliding easily between the cheeks.
“You’ll have sex with no one but me after this, Jaskier. Never again will you bed a single one of your friendly royal ladies, or innocent milk sops, or even the handsome musicians you flirt with now and again. No one.”
He punctuated each statement with a hard thrust, pulling Jaskier’s hips roughly back against him.
“Y-y-you’re right, you’re right. I’ll never want anyone but you after this. Gods, what have you done to me?!”
Geralt felt he had said more than enough words on the matter and sped up his thrusts. He slid one hand around Jaskier’s waist to envelope his cock in large fist. He spread the copious amounts of precome down it and sliding and twisting his fist around it, bringing Jaskier closer to his edge.
“Fuck Geralt, fuck, this is...this is…”
Jaskier came suddenly, emptying himself over the ground beneath them. The unexpected clench of his ass brought Geralt abruptly to the edge, and he had just enough time to get a fist around himself and jerk himself off, drenching Jaskier’s ass in his come.
Jaskier collapsed completely onto the ground as Geralt barely managed to keep himself up on his knees. He reached one last time for Jaskier’s ass, ignoring the protesting noise from the bard. He collected a bit of his come onto his finger and pushed it gently inside the man, pressing his thumb against his fluttering hole one last time.
Jaskier made another noise, managing to convey how unfairly hot and overstimulating he found that to be.
Geralt let himself slump down to the ground on his side next to Jaskier, reaching over to push the man’s hair out of his face.
“Hellooooo, Geralt.”
Jaskier sounded incredibly worn out and close to sleep, and incredibly happy and content.
“Hmm.”
“Always a man with something to say. So… should we have the conversation about how I can feel you inside my brain somehow now, or later?”
“...fuck.”
“Yes, I agree, later will be just fine. For now Geralt, look me in the eyes and profess your undying love and devotion to this romantic.”
Geralt rolled his eyes and turned to let the back of his head rest on the ground.
“C’mon Gerallllllt, now’s your chance!”
“Jaskier….”
“Oh...uh, yes?”
Geralt shifted his head to look straight into his eyes,
“You’re mine. I’m yours. And if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m throwing you right back into that stream.”
“I love you too, Geralt.”
“Hmm.”