Chapter Text
Being with Jaskier is a lot easier than Geralt had anticipated it. It’s not like they haven’t touched before, like he hasn’t felt Jaskier’s body against his but it was always under the guise of the bard being too cold or scared and wanting comfort.
But he wasn’t allowed to touch back then. No matter how much he wanted – he denied himself that. Because he didn’t know. Because he was an idiot. Because he was purposely blind to Jaskier’s wandering eyes and wistful sighs. Yen was right, he deserved to have his balls cut off for what he’s done to the other, for how he’s acted.
He runs his hands up Jaskier’s legs, chuckling at how smooth all over the other is.
“Stop laughing,” Jaskier pouts. “I feel more naked than usual. I hope it grows back.”
“I like it, makes you seem dainty.” He muses, kissing the other’s knee and pressing his teeth into the skin there. A hand grips his head, nails sharp against his scalp and he pauses in surprise, looking up at the bard in wonder. He is faced with bright blue eyes and sharp teeth – ah, these must be the lingering merman traits the other was talking about.
“If you try and treat me like glass, Geralt, we’re going to have a problem.” The bard pushes their noses together, eyes intent and menacing and Geralt – Geralt feels the thrill of the fight go down his spine in rippling motions. Heat pools in his groin as Jaskier drags his teeth along his jaw and down his neck. Something possesses him to tilt his head back so he does, giving Jaskier full access to rip his throat out if he so pleased to do. And when Jaskier closes his teeth over Geralt’s throat, he has a brief thought that the other just might. It’s – pleasant. It feels like absolution, like he’s being forgiven even without words, in a language that the beast in Geralt speaks.
“You’re very complacent,” Jaskier purrs, voice rumbling like it usually doesn’t. Geralt wants to touch more but he doesn’t dare. So he stays silent and still while the others fingers trail down his chest, exploring at a leisurely pace.
“Hm,” He hums when Jaskier pauses for answer.
“There’s this – there’s this knot in the middle of my chest. I need – there’s a need to claim.” The bard admits, dragging the sharp point of one claw down Geralt’s side. “I don’t know what it is. I don’t necessarily like it. But it doesn’t want to go away.” The other whines and Geralt takes mercy on him.
He cups the other’s cheek. “It’ll ease. It’s just leftover instinct. Mermaids are possessive with their prey.”
“You? Prey?” Jaskier seems genuinely surprised about hearing these words.
“Yes. I am. For tonight at least.” He nods, thumbing over the other’s bottom lip with care.
“You seem familiar with the concept.” Jaskier’s words are curious, a little shaky like he’s restraining himself from jumping Geralt.
“I am.” He admits, letting out the part of him that he’s ashamed of. No more hiding from the one’s he cares about. No more shying away from Jaskier’s curiosity and inquiries. “I feel it. All the time. There’s always the need to possess, to mark as my own. I don’t give into it. I don’t think I ever have. Most of the times scent is enough to sate the need.”
“Geralt,” Jaskier hisses, dragging him up by the hinge of his jaw in a rough motion until their mouths are pressed together again.
He rubs his hands over the other’s thighs, groaning as Jaskier whimpered under the touch. He hesitates, skirting around the other’s arousal and instead smoothes his palms up the other’s torso while they kiss messily.
Jaskier jerks back as Geralt thumbs over his nipple. “Geralt.” The other tries again. “Geralt, I want you in me. I want – but, oh, fuck, this is another merman thing.” Jaskier starts babbling about awkwardness and starts blushing and then Geralt is hit with Jaskier’s natural scent increasing tenfold.
He growls, unconsciously pressing his nose into the crook of the other’s neck. “Jaskier.”
“Geralt, how much do you know about weird mermaid biology?” Jaskier whimpers and then braces his heels against the edge of the bed, bringing his knees up.
He takes in a breath so sharp he almost chokes. Jaskier’s hole, wet, shining and ready to be taken without preparation is there for him to see and Geralt – Geralt feels his mouth pop open in amazement.
“Fuck,” He hears himself say, mindlessly tipping forward to bury his nose in the crease of the other’s thigh. He breathes deeply, trying to calm himself before he does anything dramatically stupid.
“Jaskier, I need you to call the shots. Tell me what to do. I don’t know if I can think for now.” He admits with the last shreds of his sanity still intact.
“Fuck, yes, alright. Come on, up you go.” Jaskier shimmies up the bed until he’s resting against the absurd amount of pillows.
He follows like a starved cur, salivating over the meal that is to come. And Jaskier takes to his new role like a fish to water, like Geralt knew he would.
“Be good for me, Geralt.” The bard instructs, pushing his head down where he wanted him and Geralt lets his tongue loll out of his mouth, tasting skin as he goes. Jaskier moans, hips twitching up futilely due to Geralt’s hands holding him down.
“No, hands on the bed.” Jaskier warns and Geralt’s hands drop down immediately.
He licks around the base of the other’s need, up his length until he’s swallowing the other down almost to the root. He groans as the head hits the back of his throat and Jaskier moans low in his chest. He sucks and tongues and doesn’t leave an inch to air as he loses himself in the motion. He doesn’t stop – wouldn’t stop if he didn’t need to – if Jaskier wasn’t pushing him off while panting rapidly.
“Fuck, fuck. That’s enough of that.” Jaskier heaves, pushing him lower still, past his cock past his balls and down where he’s wet and ready and Geralt doesn’t stop himself from tasting. His own need is heavy in his pants, confined painfully and he knows that he won’t get to undress right now. Not with how ready for him Jaskier is, with how strong the need to claim is.
He turns his head to the side, abruptly biting at the soft meat of Jaskier’s thigh just to sate the beast inside. He watches the bruise bloom and growls, satisfied for now. He returns to the warmth left behind and lets Jaskier grind against his face with a filthy string of curses leaving his mouth. He presses a finger into the other next to his tongue, amazed that practically no resistance meets him. Maybe later he'll smear his spend over the other to solidify his claim. Maybe later.
“Geralt – Geralt. Geralt, now. In me, now!” Jaskier growls demandingly and Geralt purrs in turn, pushing up onto his knees and with his hands still obediently staying away from Jaskier, he drops the straps that had been digging into his own skin painfully. He makes it as far as taking off his upper armour, his shirt and unbuttoning his pants before Jaskier gets too impatient and starts demanding.
“That’s enough, get your cock out.” Jaskier looks a little wild-eyed and Geralt’s sure that the moment this merman stuff is flushed out of him, he’ll be embarrassed about being so needy in bed but for now Geralt is very eager to please him regardless.
He presses in close, nosing the side of Jaskier’s neck. “How?”
“Hard, fast, just sate this burning need. Please.” Jaskier whimpers, clamping his thighs around Geralt’s waist and dragging him in.
He lines himself up, bites down on the other’s shoulder and thrusts in in one smooth motion. Jaskier shouts, hands spasming on Geralt’s back, claws digging in painfully but he loves it, loves the sting and the pain that goes through him. Jaskier’s still tight. He’s wet and tight and Geralt’s hips are moving before he’s even aware of it.
“Yes, fuck!” Jaskier clings to him, trying to impale himself down onto his hard length. “God, you’re so – fuck, just like that! Gods, big.”
He whines in turn, nudging his hands into Jaskier’s until the other opens his clenched fists. He pins the other’s hands to the bed, palms sweaty as they grip each other’s hands, as Geralt snaps his hips into him savagely. The sound of skin against skin serves as both a reminder of the fact that he should perhaps be more careful and as wood to the fire.
“Geralt, Geralt.” Jaskier whines, hitching his legs over Geralt’s thighs as he spreads his knees. His thrusts grow deeper, longer, dragging over the other’s inner walls. He’s close, he knows it, but he needs Jaskier to finish first. He lowers himself, trapping the other’s need between them and letting the bard grind up against his abdomen.
“Love – Geralt, fuck, yes!” Jaskier babbles incoherently, mouth open and panting with his heartbeat the only thing in Geralt’s own chest. He leans down for a kiss but Jaskier bypasses his mouth entirely and clamps his sharp teeth over the swell of the muscle between Geralt’s shoulder and neck.
He comes then, with a hiss of pain and a growl, followed closely by Jaskier releasing between them with a reedy whine.
He doesn’t let go, he doesn’t pull out, doesn’t want to. Instead he gathers Jaskier into his arms and flops onto his back, letting the bard rest on his chest. He breathes their intermingled scents, filling his lungs with the intoxicating fragrance.
“Gods, Geralt. I’m sorry – you’re bleeding. Shit.” The other licks his red lips and Geralt feels his member trying to make a valiant effort in getting hard again. Jaskier hisses in turn, clenching.
“Fuck, give me a couple of minutes.” He closes his eyes so that he doesn’t have to see the wanton look on Jaskier’s face for a bit.
“Maybe more than a couple,” Jaskier chuckles and Geralt squeezes him in a fierce hug.
“I – I know it’s silly but, you can’t blame a guy for asking, and...” Jaskier trails off, his fingers poking idly at the sluggishly bleeding bite mark.
“Jaskier,” He cuts the other off gently. “Out with it.”
“Does this – does this mean we’re together?” The other’s timid tone makes Geralt wince.
He’s always been a bit of a self-flagellator but right now, in this moment, he wants to castrate himself.
“Yes. For as long as you’ll have me. I want you by my side. I want you to stay with me. I want you to come with me wherever I go. For as long as you want.” He kisses the other on the forehead, enjoying the flush that rises to the other’s face again.
“Yes. Alright. Good. I’d like that.” Jaskier smiles.
“You should probably stop Triss and Yen from murdering me in my sleep, then.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Jaskier.”