[Jaskier laughs, but it's quiet. Perhaps too intimate for them, but all he can think of is, gods, it feels good to laugh. Among other things. All right, the laughter is the least good-feeling thing he's feeling right now.]

Oh, I can't wait to write a song about this. You'll never hear the end of it.

[His smile turns easy again, and it is not with force that Jaskier lets the morose thoughts go. Instead he is kissing Geralt, drawing him up with a fistful of his hair and a tug.] All right, you insatiable beast. I'll fuck you. Get comfortable. I'm going to make you bruise pretty little petals all over.

[Maybe there's a little of the man who Nadine drew out of him still leftover.]