#dagger flirting

[jaskierswolf]

Dandelion sighed wistfully as he brushed out the curls from his long golden blond hair. His performance had been a resounding success but he was exhausted. His lute was tucked away safely in its case under the bed and he’d stripped off his clothes and hat. Instead he’d pulled on an extravagant ivory white silk dressing gown to wear until he was ready for bed. He still needed to wipe away the kohl from around his eyes and his cheeks were stained with pink blush. He could perform perfectly well without the make-up but he’d noticed an increase in tips when he dressed to impress.

Geralt was finishing up with a contract and wouldn’t be back until at least the morning. That left Dandelion by himself in their shared room at the inn and he’d noticed a couple of thuggish looking men leering at him. With Geralt by his side no one would touch him but he had a troublesome habit of getting into a spot of bother when he was on his own. He’d slipped his dagger into the holster on his upper thigh for his own protection before his performance. Both the dagger and its holster had been a present from Geralt after a particular well paid job for the royal family of Temeria. Geralt had grumbled and forced the bundle into Dandelion’s arms with some bullshit excuse about not wanting to protect him anymore.

Dandelion was absolutely dreadful at using his dagger, he was more likely to cut himself than his opponent but being armed was better than nothing. Dandelion chuckled and brushed his fingers along the jewelled hilt of the dagger, the cold metal pressing against his skin. It was a comforting sensation when Geralt was away.

He sighed again and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. He tilted his head and licked his lips as he got lost in his thoughts, wondering if Geralt would return soon. He hoped his witcher would be safe. He tried not to worry, he’d seen Geralt in action. He knew how fearsome Geralt could be, but he also knew his friend was not invincible and so he worried all the same.  He pouted at his reflection and wrapped a blond lock of hair around his finger.

The door flung open and Dandelion stood up in a flash, his hand reaching for the dagger strapped to his thigh.

“Fuck, Geralt.” He sighed in relief as his witcher walked into the room.

“Dandelion?” Geralt’s gaze darkened as it lingered over Dandelion’s body.

Dandelion smirked and pulled the dagger from its holster, inspecting the blade carefully. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Just me.”

Dandelion licked his lips and vaguely pointed the dagger in Geralt’s direction. “Not ‘just you’, darling.”

Geralt gently grabbed the tip of the dagger and moved it aside so it was no longer pointing at him. “You’re safe now, Dandelion.”

Geralt pulled the dagger from his grip and his fingers brushed the soft skin of Dandelion’s thigh as he sheathed the dagger. Dandelion felt a shiver go down his spine. He leant against Geralt’s chest and buried his face in the witcher’s neck, enjoying the feel of his lover’s touch.

“I’m always safe with you, my dear,” Dandelion winked and brushed his lips against Geralt’s cheek. “I love you.”

Geralt’s hands wrapped around his waist and he pressed his forehead against Dandelion’s. “And I you.”

[jaskierswolf]

Quick note: This gets a bit kinky towards the end, a bit of light knifeplay and some dom/sub undertones. There’s nothing explicit but it’s worth noting. There’s no pressure to read if your tagged. ____________

Geralt was out hunting. Not the monster kind though, thankfully, the dinner kind. Jaskier was starving! His stomach wouldn’t stop rumbling and if he wasn’t careful the noise would attract dinner, alive. He would really rather the dinner be dead by the time they reached camp. He held his hands against his stomach to try and stop the noise.

“Come on, Geralt.” He groaned.

He was bloody hungry and he was bored. He didn’t dare play the lute without Geralt and his swords around to keep the monsters at bay. He needed a distraction and fast. He chewed on his bottom lip as he looked around the camp. Roach was grazing nearby and he glared at her. Oh to be a horse. You didn’t need to wait for Geralt to catch dinner if you were a horse. You could just munch happily on the nearest patch of succulent grass and the beautiful bard would give you treats.

Fuck it. How was he jealous of a horse?

His stomach rumbled again and he moaned. He was going to die of starvation before Geralt returned. He was going to wither away to nothing. He pouted and slumped dramatically back onto one of the logs around the campfire, sighing loudly. What else was a bard supposed to do?

His fingers flexed against his thighs. He couldn’t play. He’d run out of ink to write. Gods he was going to go mad! He needed to do something to pass the time. He licked his lips, the skin was starting to chap from where he kept chewing at them. He frowned. Something to do. A thought struck him.

He could whittle!

He jumped up and strutted over to Roach, giving her a fond scratch behind the ears before digging through the bags to find his dagger. Geralt had given it to him the previous year before heading off to the old witchers’ keep.

The dagger was beautiful. Jaskier didn’t know a lot about daggers but it was clearly not cheap. Geralt had forked out a lot of coin for it and Jaskier’s heart fluttered every time he thought about it. There was a part of him that wondered whether it was the witcher’s way of courting him. They’d been casual lovers for a while now, but Jaskier longed for more. He wanted to give Geralt his whole heart without fear. His fingers trailed along flat of the blade. It was razor sharp and lethal in the right hands. He poked the tip gently and a bead of blood immediately appeared. He hissed and stuck the wounded finger in his mouth.

Lethal in the wrong hands too.

But it was perfect for what he wanted.

He scavenged around the campsite for a suitable piece of wood, grinning with delight when he found one, and then settled back onto his log. He stuck his tongue between his lips as began to carve out the wood. He lost track of time as he worked, focussing hard on getting the shape of Roach’s body just right. He didn’t hear Geralt approach and he didn’t notice how long Geralt was standing there just staring at him. He was so focussed on Roach’s tiny little ears that Geralt’s voice breaking the silence startled him and he almost dropped the dagger on his foot.

“What are you doing?”

“Shit! Fuck. Balls!” Jaskier cursed, barely managing to keep hold of the hilt of his blade. He glared fiercely at Geralt and pointed the dagger at the witcher’s face. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Geralt didn’t respond. He was staring at the dagger in Jaskier’s hand as if it had some sort of bewitching spell enchanted into the blade. Jaskier raised an eyebrow at Geralt and slowly got to his feet, keeping the blade aimed at his lover. Geralt’s cheeks were dusted in a gorgeous pink blush. Jaskier chuckled and licked his lips as he tilted his head.

“How was hunting?” He asked nonchalantly as he moved into Geralt’s space.

“Hmm…” Geralt replied still not taking his eyes off the blade.

Jaskier answered with his own hum and drew the flat of the blade against Geralt’s cheek. Geralt closed his eyes and Jaskier heard the hitch in his breathing. Oh ho ho! He was going to have fun with this! Internally he was buzzing with energy but he kept his composure as best he could and moved the dagger carefully down Geralt’s face until it rested under his chin.

“Look at me, Geralt.” He whispered, his voice hoarse. Geralt let out a soft moan but his eyes fluttered open as Jaskier pushed his chin up with the dagger. Jaskier tilted his head and pulled the dagger away but not lowering it. “Do you trust me?”

Geralt nodded but Jaskier raised an eyebrow. He needed words for this, it was too much without words. “Yes.” Geralt’s voice cracked.

Jaskier pressed the blade against Geralt’s throat and his lips ghosted over Geralt’s in a faint kiss. “Be good for me.” He murmured. “And trust me.” _______ EDIT: See part 2 for smut!

Taglist: @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher @electricrituals @towelapocalypse @elliestormfound @wherethewordsare @00qtee @kittynannygaming @love-more-today-than-yesterday @marvagon @hailhailsatan @geraskier-trashh @panerato  @artistsfuneral @stinastar

[jaskierswolf]

Geralt teaches Jaskier to fight with a dagger, Geraskier - 680 words.

Warnings: Vaguely horny, implied weapon kink, dagger flirting, name calling, nothing explicit though. Pre-smut

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Jaskier was pouting. Geralt was trying to teach him how to fight, and he was fucking bored, not least because he’d already received the best education that Lettenhove could offer. He could handle a blade just fine, thank you very much. He just preferred not to get involved. He liked having Geralt there to protect him. He like being valuable enough that Geralt wanted to protect him. It gave him a warm fuzzy feeling and made him feel like he was on top of the world. He didn’t want to have to protect himself, and definitely not with something so ghastly as the blade in his hand.

“What?” Geralt growled, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Jaskier threw the dagger from one hand to another. The weight felt alright, and he was certain that practically it was a fine blade, but it was ugly. Jaskier didn’t do ugly. “I’m not fighting with this.”

“It’s a dagger. It saves your life. Who cares what it looks like?” Geralt asked, his eyes not leaving the blade and Jaskier spun it nimbly in his fingers. He’d spent many hours of his youth learning the best tricks with his dagger, and later his sword. It had helped to build up the dexterity in his fingers and wrists that he needed for the lute, before he’d been allowed his first instrument.

Jaskier sighed dramatically and inspected the shining steel blade carefully. “I care. I’m a bard, Geralt. I should have a dagger to match my beauty.”

Geralt hummed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, but it’ll do for now. Let’s go.”

Jaskier flipped the dagger in his hand, tossing it into the air with a flick of his wrist before catching it again. He smirked and pointed it at his witcher, delighting in the gorgeous blush on Geralt’s cheeks. “Come on then, witcher, teach me what you know!”

They danced back and forward, exchanging blows. Jaskier laughed as Geralt growled in frustration, clearly not expecting any skill from his bard, but Jaskier was quick, not as quick as a witcher on potions but quick enough to dazzle his partner. It was enough to give him the upper hand for just a few moments before Geralt regained his composure. Jaskier cursed as Geralt began to take control of the fight, no longer afraid of hurting him.

“You can fight?”

“Of course I can fight! What do you think I do when you’re not here?”

Geralt growled and lunged forward. Jaskier stumbled until his back hit a tree. Geralt’s dagger pressed against his throat, the cold steel making him shiver as Geralt’s body pushed up against his. Jaskier raised his hands in defeat and grinned at his witcher. He might have lost the fight but he had Geralt exactly where he wanted him.

He dropped his dagger and ran a finger along Geralt’s cheek, raising his chin as the dagger pressed harder against his throat. “You win, darling. Now will you claim you prize?”

Geralt’s dagger fell to the floor and Jaskier’s hands were pinned above his head by the witcher, Geralt lips devouring his own with a passion rarely seen in the witcher. Jaskier moaned into the kiss, writhing in Geralt’s grip, grinding his hips against Geralt’s.

“Stay still,” Geralt growled, capturing Jaskier’s bottom lip between his teeth.

Jaskier whined and tried to kiss Geralt but the bastard moved back too fast. “Fuck you,” He muttered. “Better yet, fuck me.”

“Shut up and I might,” Geralt chuckled, his lips brushing along Jaskier’s jaw before sucking at the skin just below Jaskier’s eyes.

Jaskier let out a wanton moan that would have rivalled that of a whore’s. “Gods, hurry up, you bastard.”

Geralt let go of his wrists and lifted up, Jaskier’s legs wrapping around Geralt’s waist. “Needy little whore.”

Jaskier didn’t answer. Instead he attacked Geralt’s neck, biting and licking at any skin he could reach as his hands tore at Geralt’s clothes, wriggling his hips as Geralt awkwardly tugged at his trousers. The daggers were long forgotten, they’d have to try again another day.