[ Jaskier maps out the scars on his body—ones Jaskier has touched and sung about, ones Geralt has only ever spoken of when he was several bottles deep and in too fucking maudlin of a mood.
He still thinks of her sometimes. Renfri. Not his first regret. Not his last. Even if the brooch is lost to wherever the fuck his swords went when he was dragged into this realm. He doesn't miss it, exactly, but after all those decades—now and again, he expects to see it when he draws his sword before he realizes it isn't there. Jaskier's gifted wolf pendant sits on it instead.
An apt replacement.
He pulls those silk breeches down, off. Wraps his hand around Jaskier's length. The night is young. Geralt's appetite is rarely sated after one course. He wants to be fucked until his head buzzes and every muscle aches. Then perhaps he can fall asleep for once.
His thumb rolls along the underside. ] Are you going to put your cock in me or not?
no subject
He still thinks of her sometimes. Renfri. Not his first regret. Not his last. Even if the brooch is lost to wherever the fuck his swords went when he was dragged into this realm. He doesn't miss it, exactly, but after all those decades—now and again, he expects to see it when he draws his sword before he realizes it isn't there. Jaskier's gifted wolf pendant sits on it instead.
An apt replacement.
He pulls those silk breeches down, off. Wraps his hand around Jaskier's length. The night is young. Geralt's appetite is rarely sated after one course. He wants to be fucked until his head buzzes and every muscle aches. Then perhaps he can fall asleep for once.
His thumb rolls along the underside. ] Are you going to put your cock in me or not?