[ John's palm rests against his skin, warm. Geralt sinks onto the bed. His pupils are wider in the dim light, swallowing the ring of gold.
Content to let John explore where he likes, Geralt slips his shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor by the cloak. The faintest set of marks are raised against the side of his throat, over his shoulder—angled claws that might've spelled the end for a normal man.
Very is a good answer. The demonstration of it is a better one.
He meets the kiss without hesitation, without breaking his gaze. His fingers burrow into soft brown locks; he pushes at John's jacket with his other hand, then reaches for the buttons of his waistcoat, his shirt—whichever is easiest. One of them continues to have too many layers for what they're doing right now, and Geralt meant it when he said there was still plenty left to the imagination. That he is certain John possesses more than his customary politeness beneath his clothes. He has not yet seen John shirtless, and he is no longer satisfied with imagining. ]
nsfw. →
Content to let John explore where he likes, Geralt slips his shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor by the cloak. The faintest set of marks are raised against the side of his throat, over his shoulder—angled claws that might've spelled the end for a normal man.
Very is a good answer. The demonstration of it is a better one.
He meets the kiss without hesitation, without breaking his gaze. His fingers burrow into soft brown locks; he pushes at John's jacket with his other hand, then reaches for the buttons of his waistcoat, his shirt—whichever is easiest. One of them continues to have too many layers for what they're doing right now, and Geralt meant it when he said there was still plenty left to the imagination. That he is certain John possesses more than his customary politeness beneath his clothes. He has not yet seen John shirtless, and he is no longer satisfied with imagining. ]