Chapter Text
Geralt could hear Jaskier’s breathing becoming more labored, could feel his body tightening around him, pulling him in. He trembled beneath Geralt, his fingernails digging into Geralt’s shoulder blades as his orgasm crept closer and closer. Geralt groaned as he buried his face in the crook of Jaskier’s neck and breathed in his sweet scent that only got stronger as they both reached their climax. Geralt’s knot swelled and locked him inside Jaskier, where he’s always belonged. Jaskier’s legs tightened around Geralt’s waist and he came with a sweet cry of Geralt’s name.
They remained in each other’s arms as they always did, holding onto each other as they caught their breaths. Jaskier caressed Geralt’s back. His fingertips danced across the ridge of Geralt’s spine. Geralt shuddered pleasantly. He kissed Jaskier’s cheek.
Geralt pulled back slightly to look at his lover. Jaskier always looked so beautiful after lovemaking: his face was always beautifully flushed, with a thin sheen of sweat glistening at his temples. His big blue eyes were hooded and shiny with love, his pink lips swollen.
He looked like this now, too, but there was something else, something in his eyes that made Geralt frown. He found a profound sadness in those lovely eyes. His chest tightened with concern as he cupped Jaskier’s cheek. Jaskier leant into his touch and gave him a smile, but it was a weak, sad one.
“What’s wrong?” Geralt asked him as he gently ran his thumb over Jaskier’s cheekbone. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, of course not,” Jaskier replied softly. He tucked a stray hair behind Geralt’s ear, smiling up at him. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not. I can see it.”
“I’m fine, Geralt. Just a little tired, that’s all.”
“Jask,” Geralt pressed his forehead against Jaskier’s. He heard Jaskier swallow. “Please, talk to me.”
Jaskier had always worn his heart on his sleeve. He was open about his feelings, and he never ever tried to hide anything from Geralt. He cried, laughed and screamed more freely than Geralt had ever seen anyone else do it. The last thing his Omega would do was to close himself away from his lover.
“It’s silly,” Jaskier eventually replied, after a long stretch of silence. He purposefully avoided Geralt’s eyes. He worried his lower lip between his teeth. Geralt grew increasingly more and more concerned.
“Tell me,” Geralt encouraged him softly. He caressed Jaskier’s cheek again. Jaskier sighed, then chuckled softly.
“You know what? I’ll tell you, once your knot goes down. This isn’t something I wanna talk about with your dick inside me, no matter how lovely it feels.”
Geralt snorted, and kissed Jaskier’s forehead. That, they could do, even if his thoughts raced and his heart pounded while he held Jaskier.
Once Geralt managed to pull out, he rolled over onto his side and pulled Jaskier against his chest. Jaskier nestled into his arm comfortably, and closed his eyes. Geralt gently nudged him in the side.
“So, what is it, Jaskier?”
Jaskier cracked one eye open and peered up at Geralt. Geralt raised an eyebrow at him.
“What?” he chuckled, “you thought I would forget?”
“Dating a poet isn’t doing you any favors, it turned you into an overthinker,” Jaskier muttered. He sighed again. Geralt didn’t like how stiff he was in his arms, nor did he like the long silence that filled the room. He could hear Jaskier’s heart beating fast with nerves, and could smell his anxiety. He held Jaskier closer, trying to comfort the both of them from whatever trouble was wrecking Jaskier’s mind.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” was what Jaskier said, so quietly, so gently. Geralt frowned, confused.
“What do you mean?”
Jaskier bit his lip. He drew little patterns over Geralt’s chest with the tips of his fingers. He circled his heart, and let out a shaky breath.
“Because what troubles me would cause you pain, and I don’t want that.”
“Jaskier, whatever it is, I wanna know. Okay?”
“I…” Jaskier trailed off. Geralt couldn’t see his face, as he buried it in his chest, but smelled the salty scent of tears. He tightened his arms around Jaskier instinctively.
“I want a baby.”
It felt like no air was left in the room all of a sudden. Geralt’s brain tried to come up with the right words, but he didn’t manage. He just stared ahead as the silence stretched on, invasive, heavy. Jaskier didn’t even move against his side, and he barely breathed. Geralt noticed his own heart missed a couple beats.
He had no idea how long it took for him to squeeze out a quiet, weak “what?”
Jaskier sniffed softly. He suddenly felt like a heavy weight on Geralt’s chest. He also seemed to struggle to find the right words.
“I’m forty-two years old,” Jaskier whispered. His voice was choked up, like his throat didn’t want to release his words. “And I’m not going to get any younger, only older.”
“You never wanted a child,” Geralt found himself blurting it out. It was not the right thing to say, but his mind didn’t allow him to figure out what the sophisticated answer was to this situation.
“I know,” Jaskier said. His voice was so small. “I used to think it wasn’t for me. Sounded like too much hassle, too much commitment. And I saw what wanting it so bad did to Yennefer. I was fine without it. But… I’ve been thinking a lot, lately. About how I feel like I’m missing out on something. It’s been bothering me for months.”
“Months?” Geralt repeated numbly. “You’ve been thinking about kids for months, and didn’t tell me.”
“Because I didn’t know how. This feeling, it just… it hit me. That I’ve lived past my prime, and I didn’t even think about it. Ever. But now…I don’t know. I guess my body just realized I’m getting older, and I… I just started to…crave it. A child. Someone I can hold and protect and take care of. Someone who’s a part of me.”
“What about Ciri?” Geralt asked. He couldn’t keep the pain out of his voice. “You’re her family, too.”
“I know,” Jaskier replied softly. He looked up at Geralt with those big, wet eyes, and Geralt felt like someone stabbed him straight through the heart. “I’m her family, but I’m not her parent. That’s you and Yennefer. I want to have a child. A baby. I want to grow a little life inside me, and I want to nurse them, and rock them, and…I just can’t stop wanting it, I’m sorry.”
Realistically, Geralt knew that Jaskier didn’t need to feel bad about dreaming, ever. But his heart bled over his words all the same.
Him and Jaskier had been an inseparable item for more than two decades. They were first reluctant friends - mostly on Geralt’s side -, then really close ones, before it blossomed into love. Not even the fact that Geralt and Yennefer were a couple and raised Ciri together could change the fact that Geralt and Jaskier belonged together. They were each other’s biggest confidantes, partners in crimes, passionate lovers. For over twenty years, they learnt each other, saw and learnt to handle the worst, and reveled in the best in one another. They both made mistakes, hurt each other and then had to find their way back to each other, but they always managed, no matter what. They were the two sides of the same coin, and Geralt was certain that as long as they lived, they would never part. Their bond was unbreakable, and they knew each other better than they knew themselves.
And yet, Jaskier has never brought anything like this up in those decades. He slept around, but always returned to Geralt in the end. He fell in love, but he never left his witcher’s side. And despite him being an Omega, he never wanted to tie himself down like most of society expected him to. As a traveling bard who followed a grumpy Alpha witcher wherever he went, who fucked pretty much everything that moved and ran into danger head first, Jaskier defied all the ridiculous rules that were supposed to restrict his gender. He’d never longed for the warmth of a house, for children running around him, for cooking and baking and cleaning the house for his spouse. He was a free spirit, and that was one of the things that Geralt loved him about the most.
And at the age of forty-two, Jaskier suddenly revealed that he’d changed his mind about everything that Geralt had known about him before. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with it, not even after he’s experienced Yennefer’s desperation for a child. That was different. She was not Jaskier. Geralt didn’t understand how he found himself in this situation again.
He possibly wouldn’t have been so shocked, or at least not hurt, if he were capable of giving Jaskier what he needed. He knew by now, after having met Ciri, that while taking care of a child was no small feat, he was not as bad at it as he thought he would be. He loved his daughter with all his heart, and the idea of having a child together with Jaskier - while surreal, for sure - wouldn’t have been such a nightmarish thought, except for the fact that the only way Geralt could have a child was by invoking the law of surprise. But that was not what Jaskier was craving. He wanted to get pregnant. He wanted his own baby.
“You know that I can’t give you a child,” Geralt replied. Every single word made his heart ache more and more.
“I know,” Jaskier whispered. He curled in on himself slightly. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you, because…”
“Because I’m broken,” Geralt finished it for him. Jaskier gasped in horror. He whipped his head up, staring up at Geralt with wide eyes.
“No!” he said quickly, “you’re not!”
“Aren’t I?” Geralt scoffed. He didn’t want to hurt Jaskier, not on purpose, but the pain Jaskier’s revelation caused didn’t allow him to think clearly. “You just told me you want to be pregnant. You’re with a sterile Alpha. What use do I have for you?”
“Please, don’t say that,” Jaskier pleaded. He moved to face Geralt and cupped his cheeks.
“You’re not broken. I would never think of you that way. And I wish I could get rid of this longing, I tried! But every single time it just keeps coming back stronger…I got old. My biology got demanding. And my heart, too. I never would have thought I would say this, but I want to settle down. I want to have a family.”
“With whom?”
“With you!”
“I have to remind you again, that if you want to get pregnant from me, you’re in for a sad surprise. But I thought you managed to comprehend this in the past twenty-four years.”
Jaskier’s lips wobbled. Tears fell from his eyes as he pulled back. Of course, he was the one crying, even though he just twisted a dagger inside Geralt with everything he said. Geralt let out a frustrated sigh.
“You’re being mean for no reason,” Jaskier whispered. Geralt chuckled bitterly.
“No reason? I thought I was done with this bullshit after the things that went down with Yennefer, and yet, here we are. You do have a family, we are a family! Why isn’t it enough for you?”
“I’m not going to apologize for my feelings,” Jaskier snapped. Angry tears streamed down his face as he sat up, pulling even further away from Geralt. “You think I’m happy about this? You think I want to hurt you on fucking purpose!? This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you!”
“What the hell do you expect me to do?” Geralt asked him. He sat against the headboard, glaring at Jaskier. “Find a djinn? Find a mage? Fix myself just so you can pop out a baby before you run out of time?”
“Why are you being like this?” Jaskier cried. He hugged his blanket against himself, trying to shield himself from Geralt’s harsh words. “This isn’t something I can control! This isn’t physical hunger that you can ignore! And yes, guess what, I do want to have a baby while I still can! I bet it must be wonderful to not age, but I’m sorry, my body actually does do that. So, yes, I do need to get pregnant soon if I want a child in this life.”
“Maybe you should have thought about this before you chose an infertile Alpha.”
Jaskier shook his head. He trembled, his hands fisted in the sheets. He suddenly tore himself out of the bed and stormed out of the room and into the bathroom. He slammed the door shut so hard behind him, it nearly came off its hinges. Geralt rubbed his cheeks with a groan.
Once Jaskier returned from the bathroom, he lay back on the bed with his back to Geralt. They stayed in silence for long hours, both of them steaming in their own pain. Geralt wanted to punch every single wall in the room, but most of all, he wanted to punch himself. For hurting Jaskier again, and for being so useless. He never would have thought that one day he would become the obstacle to Jaskier’s happiness. It was a pain incomparable to anything else.
He looked at Jaskier’s back. He knew he was awake, could hear how even his breathing was, as well as the small sniffles. Geralt’s chest tightened.
He wrapped his arm around Jaskier and pulled him back to his chest. Jaskier stiffened for a second, before he grabbed Geralt’s hand and squeezed it to his own chest. He started crying again, his entire body shaking with his sobs.
“I’m sorry,” Geralt whispered against his neck, his own tears falling onto Jaskier’s skin. “I’m so sorry, Jaskier.”
“Me too,” Jaskier whispered. He twisted his neckto face Geralt. He kissed him with a desperation that Geralt couldn’t even describe. He just knew it made his heart hurt even more.
They held each other through the night, but neither of them slept. Neither of them brought up the subject that hung over their heads like a heavy cloud, again.