[ CLOSED ] head down, hands up

[gynvael]

Who: Geralt + Various
When: April
Where: Cadens; Horizon; Aquila
What: Catch-all, including a road trip with the bestie
Warnings: Blanket for the usual where Witcher canon is concerned



(( starters in the comments below. find me at discontinued / Noa#1979 to plot stuff or if you want a starter. ))

Comments

nsfw.

[gynvael]

[ Fortunate and unfortunate. Every sword has two edges. (Deep down, Geralt knows full well every time, he chose to be there for Jaskier. Because Jaskier asked.)

Hadn't realized there was anything to be won or lost, though. If Jaskier were to say it, Geralt would tell him they both seem to be winning here. He leans into the kiss, one hand resting on the small of Jaskier's back. His eyes fall shut for a moment. The smell of saltwater stirs in the breeze, and he can smell the sage and sandalwood on Jaskier, too.

It isn't quite right to say he missed this. He's always had it. Maybe more...that he especially fucking needs it now. ]

I could use a... [ Hm. Jaskier's hand wraps around him, warm and heavy. A curl of heat winds through him. ] Firm reminder.

[ A good use for those hands. ]

[cointosser]

[Jaskier laughs after they part, his cheeks already painted a pale pink now he's stroking the Witcher. Even sea water cannot cool a man's temper completely.]

Thank the gods you didn't say hand.

[A terrible cliché that would ruin the mood, of course. And the mood as it is is very pleasant: the bobbing waves, the sound of water cracking on rock, and the expansive sky overhead, wide and deep enough to suck them away to another world, as they already have been.

He kisses Geralt, running his thumb up the length of him. As easy, as natural, as breathing.] At least I needn't worry about sirens here.

[gynvael]

[ His lips curl upwards at the edges. The waves crash against the rocks. Under the moonlight, it's practically what Jaskier would call romantic.

Not that Geralt gives much thought to these matters.

He inhales deeply, breathes out against Jaskier's throat. The rhythm is one he is long familiar with. Jaskier knows what he likes and in return, he knows how Jaskier likes to do it, too. How he rolls his thumb and curls his palm and strokes. ]

As far as we know. [ He's only teasing. Doesn't appear to be sirens in these waters. Just the glowing blue crabs and the occasional fish. ]