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Calloused hands meant nothing. it didn’t matter that both of their hands were rough with decades of lute playing and sword-handling. Hands were made for touching- for running up your best friend’s silk doublet and down the smooth skin of his arms. Geralt’s fingertips ghosted along Jaskier’s palms, almost afraid that he could break the man in front of him if he applied pressure.
The first time they touched hands wasn’t a precious moment. There was no soft brushing of fingertips, nor were there longing glances. Jaskier walked alongside Roach and hardly noticed his own feet give out beneath him as the edge of a ravine they walked crumbled slightly. Jaskier, gesticulating wildly as he talked, wasn’t in any real danger. He was close enough to the wall to keep from real harm- but that didn’t stop Geralt’s hand from shooting out to steady his companion. It was completely involuntary and followed with a harsh, “Watch your step.”
Neither would remember this interaction, filing it away in memory with the thousand others like it.
“Gods I’ve dreamt of this moment for years, Geralt,” Jaskier said in a breath. “We’ve been friends for so long I- I just couldn’t imagine changing that, or, even worse losing you-”.
Geralt hushed the bard, lips on his own, closing the gap between them quickly and pressing a hesitant kiss.
Geralt of Rivia was anything but hesitant. In combat, hesitancy meant losing your advantage, or worse, your life. Outside of combat, hesitancy made room for people to manipulate you- striking with promises they wouldn’t keep and lies crafted in the spaces before you acted.
In a witcher’s world, you had to be sure of every action you took or it would be your last. That was the reason Geralt always made the first move around people, usually removing himself from conversations where he couldn’t defend himself with his swords.
Until he met Jaskier- the first person to follow after he left. When a tispy young thing approached him in a tavern, Geralt thought him likely a boy working for a local brothel, pretty enough to make a living seducing patrons coming in for a drink at the edge of the world. It was only after the handsome young man asked for a review of his song that Geralt noticed he had a lute in his hands… strong, slender hands with quick fingers…
Foreheads together, warm air passed between them in quiet huffs. The kiss was over in an instant, but they both took a second to catch their breath and collect themselves. There was no going back from here. Geralt watched as long eyelashes fluttered open revealing the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. I’ve never seen them this close before, he thought. Jaskier’s breath audibly hitched as he made eye contact with the Witcher mere inches from his face.
Gods, I have to hear him again.
But it’s Geralt who moans deep in his chest when Jaskier knots his hands into white hair, pulling him down into a bruising kiss. Hands usually strong and sure scramble from hair, to shirt collar, to Jaskier’s jaw as both men rush to make up for lost years worth of touch. Caution to the wind, Geralt didn’t care if he broke his bard because he had to touch every inch of him. Now.
The first time sex came up between them, it was a year into their travels. A woman approached Geralt in the darkened corner of a tavern as Jaskier played music for the room. In all the noise, it was easy for Geralt to slip out and join the dark haired woman in a room upstairs. This wasn’t something he’d done in a long time, but to be honest, he desperately needed release after over a year since his last proper fuck. The woman was skilled, and they were done within the hour.
Geralt found Jaskier sitting at their table with a small bag of coins from patrons that night.
“Well, where have you been?” Jaskier asked, legs crossed and fingers tapping impatiently. “ I finished twenty minutes ago and you- oh.”
The woman slipped out from behind Geralt and off to some other patron in the tavern.
Geralt winced internally.
“Sorry, I had to take care of… something,” Geralt apologized. It had been so long, and he had needed it so badly. Plus, what would Jaskier care anyways?
“Well, the next time you decide to go and have a romp with a random ‘woman of the night’ please at least give me a signal so I don’t waste my time waiting for you,” Jaskier said, standing to turn away from the Witcher.
Jaskier gave a quick laugh and paid for their room, appearing by all means to be only slightly annoyed at the man. But when he turned to gesture Geralt back up the stairs, his eyes glistened slightly at the corners.
Geralt never visited another brothel. He tried not to think about it too much.
He would have to be content with his hand for the next few years. Long, lonely nights alone on his bedroll- the only person for miles across the fire from him- meant Geralt would have to take care of himself under the cover of darkness. Leaving it as long as possible, and achingly hard, he would stand silently, and walk a distance away from the camp. Once out of earshot, he would take his cock in hand and try to finish as quietly as he could.
The next time sex came up between them, Jaskier never knew. One of these nights came again, this time Jaskier the one to leave quietly in the night. Quietly- so he thought. Humans always seem to forget about a Witcher’s hearing. What a shame.
Geralt awoke with a start, laying still as stone. Realizing it was Jaskier, he settled down again and tried to sleep.
He almost dozed off before catching a distant sound in his ears.
“Oh- oh gods.”
“Fuck, oh I can’t…oh gods”
Jaskier.
Geralt immediately felt his cock stiffen in his pants. He could hear Jaskier moaning from almost a quarter of a mile away by the sound of it.
But no, this wasn’t right. This was his friend- he couldn’t be aroused by this. No. This was just Jaskier needing release just as he did. It had been what- three weeks since he had last gotten himself off? Of course Jaskier had the same needs, he was only human.
“Oh gods, yes”
“Please…anything…yes”
Before he could catch himself, Geralt flipped onto his stomach- needing something, anything to provide friction against his aching erection. He rutted against his blankets on the ground. Gods. Anything.
“Oh fuck…fuck me, please,” Jaskier cried in the distance, imagining some fantasy worth finishing to.
Geralt couldn’t do it anymore. His ears twinged as he strained to hear more- almost able to hear the vulgar, wet noise Jaskier’s cock made. The bard’s hand pumped, at a quickening pace, the wet slap of flesh clearly audible in Geralt’s ears.
Geralt hit his limit, he had to do something now , before he came on his bed roll. He had to go, to get out of earshot of Jaskier and finish this. No, he wouldn’t have time to stand- he needed release now. Geralt unbuttoned his trousers and ungracefully pulled his cock out. He needed to do this quickly. Before-
Footsteps.
Jaskier’s footsteps. Surprisingly heavy for the slender man. But these were different, he was purposefully trying to be quiet. He had come back to camp.
Oh fuck, Geralt thought. Fuck. How would he explain this? Thankfully he was turned away from Jaskier on his side, so as long as the bard didn’t come close enough to see him he would be okay. This would work. He could control himself at least long enough for Jaskier to fall back asleep before he went off into the field nearby. This was going to work.
This was going to wo-
“Oh fuck, ouch,” Jaskier groaned as he settled down on his bedroll.
Fuck. White hot pleasure burned through Geralt’s veins and a stream of cum shot out from his untouched cock as he heard Jaskier’s voice. Geralt bit his lip to stifle his own moan, and tasted blood. Leave it to the bard to put his bedroll on top of rocks.
From then on, Geralt got himself off more frequently and efficiently- that would never happen again.
The room they paid for only had one bed. After so long together, it was sound that they wouldn’t spend almost double the cost of a single room. Honestly, a place to sleep that wasn’t a bedroll on the ground was heaven enough. Why should they complain about having to share a real place to sleep? Besides, sleeping together kept them warmer than sleeping alone did.
Thank gods no one would question why neither one of them would leave their room again tonight.
Jaskier gasped as Geralt pushed him down onto the bed, straddling his lap to give himself more leverage.
“I- oh fuck,” Jaskier moaned as Geralt shifted his hips on top of Jaskier’s, “I don’t mean to pry- oh fuck Geralt- but have you ever had a man before?”
“Yes,” Geralt replied succinctly, “But I’m not going to have you yet.”
“What? No, I get we’ve built this up for years so savoring it is good and all, but Geralt I need you to fuck me now and we can talk abou the implications later.”
Geralt felt his cock twitch with Jaskier’s request.
“No, you don’t understand,” Geralt growled, growing frustrated at having to voice his desires. “I’m going to make you beg for it. I want you to want it so badly that I don’t even have to touch you.”
Payment, Geralt thought. For that night all those years ago.
Jaskier went silent. Eyes widening impossibly, he stared up at the man towering above him.
Geralt was afraid he’d said the wrong thing when Jaskier suddenly began to shakily work on the buttons of his doublet.
“Gods, Geralt if you wanted me this badly, you could have just asked,” the bard chatted, almost nonchalantly. Seemingly coming out of his stun, Jaskier tried to play it off as if this was one of their everyday interactions. He just, couldn’t seem to get his fingers to work correctly to undo his vest.
Gods- have to touch him now. Geralt’s mind reeled, watching his bard fumble with mere buttons.
The sound of a dozen buttons clattering to the floor filled the air as Geralt ripped the doublet in two with one hand- the other pushing Jaskier down onto his back.
No words of protest immediately came from Jaskier, only a needy moan as his back hit the mattress beneath him.
“Oh- oh fuck Geralt you could have helped,” Jaskier said, breath shaking. He quickly pulled the undershirt over his head before that too could be ripped in half.
The picture beneath him, Geralt’s eyes went out of focus as he saw his bard beneath him, chest glistening, breathing heavily, and his hair dark with sweat.
“Come here, please,” Jaskier asked, reaching up and hooking his arms under Geralt’s shoulders to bring him closer.
Geralt complied, framing Jaskier’s form between his arms, only managing to hold himself up so that Jaskier couldn’t grind against his hips. He would have to wait for that. He would have to ask.
“Oh Geralt, please, don’t play coy with me,” Jaskier whined as he realized he wasn’t going to get friction against his straining cock.
“You’re a bard, you’re going to have to sing for it.”
“Oh gods Geralt, fine,” Jaskier breathed. “Please may I have you touch me. I need it.”
With that, Geralt closed the distance, kissing Jaskier gently as he ground his hips harshly into the other man’s. If Jaskier wanted friction he would get it, but only friction.
A deep moan sprung out of Jaskier, his fingernails biting into Geralt’s shirt, “Oh thank you. God’s thank you.”
Geralt’s hands roamed over the taut muscle of Jaskier’s chest. Lute playing must have some physical labor involved, Geralt thought quickly. He worked his way down the bard’s chest, leaving kisses and marks along his skin.
Reaching the waist of Jaskier’s trousers, Geralt stopped.
“Please gods Geralt don’t stop,” Jaskier groaned underneath him. “I’m not going to last long as is.”
Geralt eased upright, ceasing all touch- leaving Jaskier writhing before him on the bed.
“Trousers and pants off,” Geralt growled, “Before I rip them off.”
Jaskier compiled quickly, throwing his trousers to the ground, his member throbbing with need. It must have been completely out of habit that his hand wandered down to grab his cock, because he wouldn’t disobey Geralt’s orders on purpose. No touching. Geralt’s hand whipped down, yanking Jaskier’s arm above his head.
“I told you, you’re going to cum when I say and how I say,” Geralt growled, “ And not a second before.”
Jaskier let out an ungodly moan, pleading, “Please, I need you to touch me.”
“Fuck,” Geralt groaned. He pulled Jaskier to the edge of the bed so that his legs hung off the edge, and knelt between his knees.
“Oh- oh thank you,” Jaskier whimpered, sounding on the verge of tears.
Geralt leaned in, and began to pepper kisses on Jaskier’s thighs, grinning when he saw the man’s cock jump when he got too close.
“Please Geralt- oh gods fuck, I need you to touch me please.”
“No.”
With that, he began to suck on the soft flesh of Jaskier’s thighs, feeling the skin bruise beneath his lips and teeth. He wanted Jaskier to remember this for a long time. He closed in on the base of Jaskier’s cock, the tip turning an angry shade of red.
“Geralt! Oh gods fuck me, please, I’ll do anything- I’m so close,” Jaskier cried, back arching, and knuckles turning white from gripping the blankets.
“Look at me,” Geralt demanded. Blue eyes, wild with want, half lidded, and mad with need looked into Geralt’s golden gaze. He was fully clothed, grinning from between his legs, and so close to sucking him off.
Jaskier’s eyes rolled back and his head lolled onto the mattress. White streams of cum shot from his cock, and he screamed with his release.
“That wasn’t so hard,” Geralt said slyly, sliding up to cradle his bard as Jaskier shook through his orgasm.
“I-I-I-I can’t believe you Witcher,” Jaskier gasped, “You’ve had years to get revenge and you had to wait until our first night to do it.”
Geralt went still.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh,” Jaskier chuckled, “I’ve been trying to fuck you for years, you don’t think I would notice when you came all over yourself in our camp in that village outside Oxenfurt?” Jaskier pushed himself up onto his forearms, so close to Geralt’s stony expression.
“You think I don’t know that Witcher’s have exceptional hearing?” Jaskier pecked a kiss onto Geralt’s lips, “Well, my darling witcher, I got what I wanted.”