Bouncey, I’ve had a rough week, could I ask for something soft and fluffy? Maybe with confessions and nuzzles?
Oh you got it, fam
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Geralt stood slowly from his kneeling position, stretching out the kinks in his muscles as he did so. Jaskier was already fast asleep, curled into a ball on his half of the tiny mattress.
His body language was practically begging Geralt for cuddles.
The Witcher crossed the room on silent feet and slipped beneath the thin covers, wrapping himself around the barely-shorter man like an additional comforter. Jaskier murmured a series of slurred exclamations and rolled over, burying his face in Geralt’s chest.
Geralt’s nighttime cuddles were his own private business and so far Jaskier had always quietly cooperated and stayed facing the other direction. But now the bard’s hands were fisted in the front of the Witcher’s shirt and his sweet, sleepy breaths were hitting Geralt’s chest in tiny warm puffs and... and...
“Fuck,” the Witcher muttered lowly. “I love you, you idiot.”
“I love you too,” Jaskier replied. His eyes were still closed and he was still very much asleep. “Geralt.”
The Witcher’s eyes went wide and he nuzzled down against the top of Jaskier’s head. Perhaps, in the morning, he would say those words again.