Leopard seal selkie!Jaskier meeting Geralt follow up to your wonderful excerpt!
Jaskier naturally invites himself on whatever icy quest Geralt is on, cheerfully insisting he will be helpful. Geralt is deeply unconvinced, but the selkie is charmingly unafraid of him and would be useful in open water. Why not.
But it’s cold as hell. This is a frozen, stark environment, cold even for a Witcher. Jaskier doesn’t feel the cold even in his human form, he’s literally made for it, but he can see Geralt is suffering. Worried for his self-proclaimed new best friend, like it’s the most normal thing in the world, he leans in and ambushes Geralt with a kiss.
It gifts a little selkie magic, imperviousness to the cold. Jaskier thinks nothing of it—he promised he’d be helpful.
Geralt on the other hand is bamboozled and still buffering.
Selkies were an affectionate people. They lived in pods—close-knit families bound together by touch, companionship, and a deep sense of belonging.
As a selkie, Jaskier was no different.
He was open with his affection in a way Geralt had never encountered before. Jaskier thought nothing of sprawling across the deck of Geralt's boat, draping himself wherever he pleased. More often than not, that meant leaning against the witcher or using him as an especially grumpy pillow.
And then there were the kisses.
Jaskier handed them out with alarming ease.
A brush of lips against a cheek. The corner of a jaw. Once, directly on Geralt's mouth.
As though it were the most natural thing in the world.
"You looked cold," Jaskier explained with a bright smile after that particular incident. "It's an ability selkies have. We can share warmth through a kiss."
Entirely and completely unprepared.
Because Jaskier had just kissed him like it was no big deal.
As though he hadn't casually rearranged the entire structure of Geralt's thoughts with a single touch.
As though Geralt hadn't spent the last several minutes replaying it in excruciating detail.
As though Geralt wasn't suddenly, painfully aware of the shape of Jaskier's mouth.
Jaskier, meanwhile, had already moved on.
He was humming to himself, stretched across the deck with his tail hanging over the side of the boat, completely oblivious to the crisis he had created.
Geralt wanted to kiss him again.
Because Jaskier clearly thought kisses were no more significant than handing someone a blanket.
And Geralt was beginning to suspect that, if Jaskier ever kissed him on purpose, he might actually stop functioning altogether.
