Geralt had barely shut the door before Jaskier was grinning. "You're filthy."
"You smell like wet forest."
"And I think that's someone else's blood."
"Oh, there it is," Jaskier crowed. "The elusive smile! I knew you missed me."
The next thing Jaskier knew, he was being swept clean off his feet.
He laughed helplessly as the witcher tossed him onto the bed with practiced ease. The mattress bounced beneath him, and before he could sit up, Geralt climbed over him, bracing himself on either side.
Jaskier dissolved into giggles.
"Oh, this is terribly intimidating," he managed between laughs. "The famous White Wolf pinning me to a bed. If anyone could see-"
Geralt leaned down and kissed him.
It was impossible to continue speaking through that.
Jaskier kissed him back eagerly, hands finding the buttons of Geralt's shirt out of habit. He fumbled at the first one, smiling against Geralt's lips.
"You know," he murmured between kisses, "I've heard fascinating rumors about witcher stamina. I feel it would be academically irresponsible not to investigate."
Geralt paused. Only for a heartbeat.
Then he rested their foreheads together.
"...Not really in the mood."
Jaskier blinked. His hands stilled.
He searched Geralt's face, finding not embarrassment but something softer. A little tired around the edges.
"What mood are you in, then?"
Geralt shrugged one shoulder. "This."
Another kiss, slower this time. "...Cuddling."
Silence. Then Jaskier burst into delighted laughter.
"That is disgustingly sweet."
"I've been accused of many things," Geralt muttered.
"Secret cuddle enthusiast."
Without warning, Geralt's hands darted to Jaskier's sides.
The witcher, traitor that he was, actually smirked. "You laugh too much."
Geralt absolutely did not stop.
Jaskier twisted and squirmed, laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, trying to shove Geralt away despite the fact that it was about as effective as arguing with a mountain.
"I'll write terrible songs about you!"
Jaskier managed to catch one of Geralt's wrists, only for the witcher to use the opportunity to pull him into a clumsy roll across the bed. Blankets tangled around their legs, pillows went flying, and somehow they ended up in a thoroughly undignified heap.
Geralt's hair had escaped its tie and was falling into his face.
Jaskier reached up, brushing it back behind one ear.
"There," he said softly. "Much better."
Geralt looked at him for a long moment before leaning in.
The kiss was unhurried. Warm. The kind that didn't ask for anything except closeness.
When they finally pulled apart, Jaskier smiled so brightly it almost hurt.
"You threw me onto a bed just so you could kiss me and cuddle."
Jaskier cupped his cheek.
Geralt huffed the sort of sigh that meant you're impossible.
Jaskier answered by stealing another quick kiss.
Geralt stole one back. Then another.
Until neither of them could remember who had started it, and the room was filled with nothing but quiet laughter and the comfortable silence of two people who had long since stopped needing words.