Chapter Text
By the time the two of them pulled into the garage Geralt was itching, mud having worked its way into every wrinkle and crease of his clothing, and beneath them. Stopping in the laundry room he stripped, dropped his muddy clothing into the sink to soak. Jaskier handed him his own muddy clothes without comment, silently cataloguing the cuts and scrapes that littered the man’s body.
“Let me get the worst of this muck off me in the gym shower, Jask,” he said scratching idly at the mud caked along the back of his neck, “then how do you feel about a soak in the springs? I don’t know about you, but I’m still chilled.” He wasn’t really cold, but Jaskier’s skin still held a bit of a blue tinge and he was relieved to see the man smile widely.
“I like the way you think, my love. Think Triss will be upset if we wait to bandage your leg until after you soak,” he asked looking at the nasty gash that his shattered cell phone had caused on Geralt’s thigh and which still looked open though it no longer bled.
Geralt grabbed his hand and walked him into the shower off the gym. “It can wait, getting this mud out of my ass can’t.”
<< >> << >> << >>
“How’s your leg? I didn’t wrap it too tight, did I?” Jaskier asked, offering Geralt a mug of spiced tea as he joined him on the long couch where he’d been leaning against the back of the couch with his eyes closed enjoying the sounds of Jaskier puttering around in the kitchen, humming a familiar tune. He settled against his side and Geralt dropped his arm over his shoulders. He nuzzled against his ear, inhaling the scent of his camomile and citrus shampoo.
“I’m fine, Lark. My leg’s fine, it’s barely more than a slight ache at this point. I told you, by the morning you won’t even be able to tell there ever was a gash.”
Jaskier sipped at his tea with a hum, and realised it was probably true. While they showered he’d witnessed all the smaller scrapes and cuts fade even as he was washing the mud and debris from Geralt’s body and hair. The one in his thigh had been deep, however, and even though Triss had agreed with Geralt’s assessment that it was not worth a trip to the hospital, she had stressed the importance of getting it properly cleaned and wrapped once they got home and showered. When she was satisfied Jaskier understood her directions, she had Geralt drink a measure of her synth-Swallow ‘for good measure’ and sent them on their way.
“Makes me wonder just how horribly injured you must have been to have ended up with so many scars that didn’t heal up and disappear in a matter of hours I guess.” Jaskier stroked his fingers gently down Geralt’s cheekbone before leaning in for a kiss. “It physically hurts to think of you so grievously wounded and alone.”
“Acquiring scars was just part of monster hunting, Lark. It was rare I was fortunate enough to have the coin for a healer, or be near one when their services were needed. I’m afraid I mostly had to do any required stitching myself. Obviously I didn’t gain any fame for my sewing abilities,” watching Jaskier’s fingers tracing a particularly twisted scar along his side Geralt felt the man shiver and smelled the sudden burst of salty tears.
Geralt twisted to see tears glittering in Jaskier’s lashes.
“Lark? Don’t cry. What is it?”
He reached up and brushed angrily at his tears and tried to pass them off as silliness with a strangled laugh. The scent of sadness and fear filled the air between them, two things Geralt had sworn he’d never cause this man. Gathering Jaskier into his arms, he rubbed a comforting pattern across the centre of his back .
“Please, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Jaskier snuffled slightly before pulling away to sit cross-legged and face Geralt. He wiped his face on his shirt sleeve before taking a shaky breath.
“When you didn’t answer your phone…when I couldn’t reach you…I was so scared,” he hiccuped and Geralt saw more tears gather. “I was afraid when I found Roach you’d been killed up there. What if I hadn’t found you in time? Geralt, I’ve never felt that kind of fear before. Not even when Silas...” He trailed off, looking so young suddenly, blue eyes swimming with tears he was trying so hard to hold back, Geralt felt his heart clench tightly. “Thinking of life without you after just getting you back was infinitely more terrifying than even that.”
“Jask, baby,” Geralt reached toward him. Jaskier pulled his hand into his lap and intertwined their fingers.
“Let me try to finish, please, Ger?” The witcher nodded slowly.
“I know you’re a witcher. You’re stronger, can endure more, and I’m sure you’ve experienced countless unimaginable situations in your lifetime and have inexplicably survived without me there to rescue you,” Jaskier tried to smile, hoping not to look as little and scared as he felt. “I know all of that up here,” he said, tapping his temple, “but this wasn’t hearing a word of it,” he said, dropping his hand over his heart.
“While I believe in your ability to take care of yourself, darling, I couldn’t stop myself from the thoughts of losing you…” His voice cracked then and the tears burst out of him, uncontrolled and hot.
Gathering the man against his chest, Geralt held him tightly as he shook with great heaving sobs. When he slowed to just the occasional jerky breath, he realised that Geralt was humming as he rubbed his back, and Jaskier found himself slowly soothed by the near-purr of the sound. He rubbed his cheek against Geralt’s broad shoulder; stilling only when he heard Geralt sigh.
“I hate that I scared you, Jaskier.” The words were barely more than a breath against his damp skin, but Jaskier heard the pain they held. “I promised myself I’d never cause you fear or pain, and I’ve done both.” Jaskier nodded slightly, unable to disagree, but unwilling to voice it. Instead he pressed a kiss into his lover’s neck.
“I’m sorry. However, you must believe me when I say I was in no danger of dying up there. It would have been a very uncomfortable night, I will not lie, but it would hardly have killed me. Besides, Lark,” he lifted his chin so he could look into his eyes,“either you or destiny would have found me by morning. I’m glad it was you, otherwise I might have had to set a forest fire to catch someone’s attention. Management would definitely be pissed, but I would have been found.”
Jaskier snorted at the familiar joke and sat back up. “Like I’d leave your fate to Destiny,” he scoffed with an imperious sniff. “Of course it was going to be me!” Jaskier’s tone was lighter, but the way his eyes narrowed, possessive and intent, and the sudden scent of need pouring off him in waves made an unexpected flutter of pure lust curl deep in Geralt’s belly before shooting to his groin. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen this expression on his lover’s face, but it was still new…also very, very hot. He felt his cock start to fill.
Grinning as he noticed Geralt’s trousers beginning to tent, Jaskier took Geralt’s face between his hands and leaned in for a filthy kiss that left them both breathless and dark eyed. When he leaned back he took in the hungry look in Geralt’s eyes with a shiver of desire.
“Did you really think after all the many ways both of us have been fucked over by Destiny’s whims, I was leaving that fickle bitch to rescue you, darling? My beautiful Wolf, nothing on this sphere could have kept me from coming for you. Do you hear me? Nothing. You are my life, you are my home…remember?”
“As you are mine. Forgive me if I sounded like I doubted you or your resourcefulness, Jask.” He pulled him forward until their foreheads touched. “Let’s just sayI ’m feeling rather sheepish for being so careless and for requiring you to ride to my rescue, but all jokes aside, I truly am sorry to have put you through that,” he ducked his head with a tiny frown.
“Forgiven darling. I get that you’re not used to needing anyone, and though I suppose I should take offence that the idea of me being capable in a crisis was so foreign to you, I hope this experience has disabused you of the notion that I’m not capable of taking care of myself
and
you if need be.”
“My hero,” Geralt rumbled. “I will never underestimate you again.” Jaskier brightened immediately.
“This feels like a major breakthrough, don’t you agree?” Geralt cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.
“I mean, look how far you’ve come already,” Jaskier teased. “Just months ago I couldn’t even get you to let me call you my knight without you nearly blushing. Now you've also been forced to confront the knowledge that your faithful bard is more than just a pretty face with big blue eyes who adores you. That’s a lot of change for anyone to absorb in such a short period of time, let alone for a man of your age.” Jaskier kissed him lightly, standing up and holding out his hand. Geralt shook his head, but took it and allowed Jaskier to believe he needed his help to rise. Jaskier tucked himself against the witcher’s side for support. Geralt huffed in amusement.
“Jask, I’m fine, really.”
"Shut up and let me have this, darling. Just accept the fact that sometimes it's the sidekick that carries the day. Don’t spoil the moment for me." Jaskier added with a chuckle, bumping their hips together as they mounted the stairs to their room.
“My point is you should never have had to risk yourself for me, and while I am grateful, I feel indebted to you. It’s not the most comfortable feeling for a witcher.” Jaskier glanced at his lover, leaning against his side, a faint stain on his cheeks.
“Darling, if it makes you feel better, there
is
something I need from you tonight. Something I can’t do for myself. You can consider it payment for services rendered.”
“Anything…name it.”
“I need to burn all thoughts of you not coming home to me out of my head. The only way I can think to do that is to feel your pulse race under my touch and hear my name fall from your lips as you come for me. Think you can handle doing that?”
“Hmm, seems the least I can do for my hero,” came the rumble, as they stopped near the end of the bed. Pulling his tee over his head, he gasped lightly as Jaskier’s fingers untied his sweats and they dropped to the rug to pool at his feet.
After a quick glance to make certain the bandage on his thigh was secure, Jaskier walked Geralt backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed. Giving him a light shove he smiled broadly as Geralt sprawled backward.
With a huff of laughter Geralt got comfortable against the plethora of pillows Jaskier had piled against the headboard and watched as Jaskier crawled toward him with a predatory expression. He spread his thighs and Jaskier settled between them on his knees. Dipping his head, he rubbed his beard lightly against the soft skin of Geralt’s belly and inner thigh, thrilling at the sound of Geralt’s sharp gasp.
“There’s a difference between us you may not be aware of, my darling. Do you want to know what it is?”
“Do tell,” Geralt gasped as Jaskier nosed against his hip and trailed a line of nips over its arch. He reached down and grasped the base of his cock, which throbbed as hot breath ghosted across kiss dampened skin.
Jaskier’s hand drifted up to trail lightly over Geralt’s knuckles as he stroked up the length of his erection lightly. He nodded solemnly, his beard tickling against his thigh. “Unlike witchers, who I’ve heard were often denied their full measure for services rendered, I refuse to accept less than payment in full, even if my reward isn’t paid in coins of gold this evening.”
Geralt licked at his bottom lip, catching it between his teeth as Jaskier’s eyes got wider and darker. “As you may have surmised, a pound of flesh is actually my preferred method of payment.” Jaskier’s grin was wicked as he licked at the soft skin where hip met thigh, just above the edge of the bandage before leaning up on one elbow and winking cheekily at the man propped on his elbows watching him. Geralt dropped his head back to the pillow with a soft chuckle, raising his hard cock from where it twitched against his belly and angling it toward Jaskier with a smirk.
“Just as well, as I’m afraid I currently have no coin with which to pay you. I do however seem to have a pound of flesh, which I offer willingly if that's an acceptable substitute?” Geralt dragged his thumb across the aforementioned part of his anatomy and smiled as Jaskier licked his lips hungrily.
“I find that to be both quite generous, and exactly what I was hoping for. Your offer is accepted.”
The witcher was being modest, Jaskier knew for a fact it was much closer to two pounds, but he was in no mood to quibble. Instead he leaned down and swallowed half of his prize in one long spit-slicked motion.
Geralt practically came at the first touch of the man’s heated mouth pressing him from all sides. He hissed and grabbed handfuls of the bedding, attempting to ground himself as Jaskier bobbed.
Jaskier hummed in disapproval and backed off, not quite letting the tip of Geralt’s cock slip free from his mouth. Reaching up, he coaxed Geralt with a little tug to let go of the spread. As he sank back down, taking him nearly to the root, he placed Geralt’s hand on the back of his head, encouraging him to take what he wanted.
With a growl, Geralt did just that, hand tangled roughly in the man’s curls. The moans he received vibrated through him and his back arched, pushing him deeper.
He left Geralt’s fingers buried in his hair to grasp himself hard and groaned as Geralt’s fat cock brushed the back of his throat. Geralt’s fingers tightened a fraction before dragging his head back up to start again.
“Yes, baby, just like that. You’re taking me so fucking deep.” It was Jaskier’s turn to moan wantonly as Geralt’s hand tightened marginally and Jaskier's nose was pressed into the wiry curls at the base of his cock.
When Jaskier’s moans began to carry the tiniest edge of discomfort Geralt released him instantly. Jaskier slid back up and off Geralt’s cock with a pop, gasping and working his jaw to release the tension.
“Ger…” he started, voice wrecked, face flushed. Wiping at the drool that had soaked his beard and smeared across his face with a lopsided grin.
“No need to explain, Lark. That’s enough. Get up here,” the witcher said with a lazy smile, grasping his reddened cock in one hand and offering the other to his lover.
The grateful sound Jaskier made was accompanied by a stream of silvery precome sliding the length of his painfully ignored cock. Careful to avoid aggravating Geralt’s wound, Jaskier scrambled up the bed and straddled his hips which aligned their cocks perfectly. Wrapping his hand around their joined girth, he intertwined his fingers with Geralt’s and began a slow gliding motion. This continued until he’d taken them both to the edge of madness twice, stopping just at the brink and backing off.
Geralt was glorious as he fell apart beneath his touch. When his soft moans took on an edge of desperation, Jaskier relented.
Leaning down with a kiss he whispered, “You’re beautiful like this, Wolf, but I need you inside me now .” Releasing their cocks, and ignoring the low rumble of loss from his lover, he knelt up to align the witcher with his empty hole and pressed down.
Geralt gripped the younger man’s hips hard and supported him as he slowly breached himself and slid down, inch by inch. The stretch was familiar, his body adjusting and accepting the size and length of him now with practised ease. The punched out groan that accompanied him finally settling his bottom against Geralt’s balls got him rocking. Backward onto Geralt’s cock, forward into his calloused hand, chasing completion with each stroke.
It took no more than a dozen heartbeats before Geralt’s eyes rolled back in his head and Jaskier’s name was exhaled like a cry to heaven as he surrendered and let himself spill deep inside Jaskier. Jaskier striping his chest with hot cum not a moment later.
<< >> << >> << >>
When Jaskier finally was settled against Geralt’s back, and the heavy sounds of the man’s breathing assured him he was deeply asleep, he thought back over the events of the past day. The all consuming despair he’d experienced earlier had been burned away in the forge of their coupling, however now he was fairly buzzing with excitement.
Eskel, of course, had been correct. He had started automatically writing a new song as soon as he’d found Geralt alive and well. This day was not only going to end up a song, oh no, it was going to become an epic tale. Worthy of a festival crowd, they would positively eat it up.
He was almost sorry he’d made the decision to take the next year off from touring. However, he’d come to the realisation in the past few months, while he no longer needed a crowd of thousands to make him feel important, needed, or adored. He’d found that, and so much more, here on Emanako. Here, he’d found all his missing pieces. Finally he was home and everything fit, just as it should. All his need for approval and accolades had been satisfied by way of the man in his arms.
“Jask…you alright? Wha’s wrong?”
He planted a soft kiss at the base of Geralt’s neck. “I’m fine, Wolf. We’re both safe. I’m just thinking. Sleep.” Geralt sighed deeply, his hand automatically finding Jaskier’s and holding it close as his breathing once again settled into the slow rhythm of sleep.
Jaskier lay like that for several minutes, just listening to Geralt’s soft breathing. Finally, he extricated his hand and rolled over to clasp his hands behind his head and stare up at the ceiling. A grin slowly spread across his face in the darkness.
There was no point in lying to himself. While it was true he didn’t need audiences of thousands any longer, the voice of the ever-present showman was insistent and growing. He feared not even the love of his life could shut that voice down.
Geralt may have wished he didn’t, but Jaskier not only knew just the right audience for this tale, he had the beginnings of an idea on how to attract them to the island to hear it performed live. He’d throw his own festival. Music, dancing, sword fights, something on horseback. It would be glorious.
Questions remained, of course, like how to get buy-in for his idea from his lover and the family. He didn’t kid himself, it would need to be something spectacular to be worthy of the Kaedwen Keep name, but the potential reward would be worth all the challenges of organising it.
With a happy sigh, he pulled the cover up over himself and turned to curl against Geralt again. If he fell asleep thinking of a particularly adult version of a Ren Fest, complete with naked and sweaty witchers, well really who could fault him?