Darnit Kuri I can’t get your fertility god out of my head 🙈❤️
11 or 100? I am but a simple geraskier girl but whatever catches your fancy? Love you!
As requested, Panda, the fertility god!Jaskier continuation you asked for. I'm not sure where in the timeline of that story this is, but it's in there! #11 is body worship and that's what follows. Beta'd by my liege-lord, @officerjennie
Send me a prompt?
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(inundated with) the fated thought of you | Geraskier | rating: E-ish? | 778 words | cw: almost smut, piiiiiiniiiiiiiig, yearning, aching, (how many more words can I use to portray the not actually unrequited love here), silly silly boys, soft tummies
There. Right there. The way the stretch marks swirl and dance over his soft, supple skin. It would be very fair to call Jaskier obsessed, he thinks. His fingers delicately trace the paths they painted on the canvas that is Geralt's soft skin, eyes glinting in the low candlelight as he sees the goosebumps rise on Geralt's flesh.
"Sensitive. I never would've guessed." Jaskier sneaks a kiss to Geralt's hip, the pressure of his lips both barely there and overwhelming.
Geralt's hands flex at his side, clutching at the inn's rough bed sheets as he practices a level of self-restraint he never thought would be needed in his very long lifetime.
Geralt keeps his gaze locked above Jaskier's head, counting the cracks in the ceiling as his cheeks flush pink at the attention being paid to the softer parts of his body. "Hmmm," is all he can come up with. If he actually opened his mouth, he's afraid of what might fall out and he's not sure Jaskier is ready to hear it. Hell, he's not sure he's ready to hear it.
Jaskier's laughter floats through the air, adding to the dream-like atmosphere surrounding them. The noisy world outside of their room ceases to exist as every sense in Geralt's body focuses on Jaskier. Geralt is splayed on their bed, his body bare to Jaskier's viewing pleasure. Though, if Jaskier had anything to say about it, he is only returning the worship paid to him by Geralt's devotion over the years of their relationship.
Jaskier lays tucked between Geralt's legs, pinning him to the straw-filled mattress, equally as nude as his disciple. His fingers trace the graceful dip of Geralt's waist as he begins humming softly, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin of his stomach. The vibrations buzz gently against his skin, causing Geralt's eyes to flutter shut. His heart is racing, his normally slow heartbeat almost matching the tempo of Jaskier's melody.
It's a tune that Geralt has heard before, but has never heard the lyrics to. Come to think of it, Geralt doesn't think he's ever seen Jaskier perform the song before a tavern audience. What if-- Immediately he squashes the thought that this song is only for him, but is unable to fight back that surge of hope. The hope that one day, Jaskier would be only his.
"You can touch me, Geralt." Jaskier reaches up and caresses his clenched hands. "I'd rather that than this." Jaskier works his fingers into Geralt's fisted hands, prying his left hand open first, the right following suit. "Relax. Please enjoy this."
Geralt grunts softly and lets out a sigh. He takes in a deep breath as tries to get his body to relax and take in the pleasure and is immediately overtaken by Jaskier's natural smell-- a subtle mixture of the moment just before the earth is drenched in spring rains, freshly grown grass, sweet, musky flowers bursting into bloom with dewy petals.
Jaskier laughs again and picks up where he left off.
"You know... I think Midaëte is my favorite time of year to travel with you." Jaskier presses his fingers into the soft layer of fat that pads Geralt's middle. Geralt shivers and feels the tension draining from his body, sinking into the mattress cradling them. "The contracts have been plentiful, we're flush with coin, and you're not so stingy with your meals." Jaskier watches as his fingers sink in, almost as if they're being absorbed into all that softness. "You start to fill out, darling, and so wonderfully at that. Look at how soft you are."
"Jaskier..." Geralt whines softly, eyes opening again to the hazy world around him. His body burns, arousal simmering low but steady. He picks up a hand, wanting to touch Jaskier in return, but is unsure where he's allowed to touch him. Jaskier reaches up and guides the lost hand to his hair, winking up at Geralt.
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, witcher. Even beneath this new layer of self-love, the strength it protects is quite evident." Jaskier gives Geralt a self-satisfied grin before burying his face in Geralt's tummy.
"Jask!" Geralt lets out in a most un-witcherly squawk, his hand tightening in Jaskier's hair. Jaskier's laughter is full-bodied and boisterous, and Geralt can't fight back the surge of love that runs through his body. If there were ever a time to tell Jaskier of his love, now would be the perfect moment, surrounded by joy as they were. But the words tumble from his thoughts down to his tongue and get stuck right behind his teeth. One day, he thinks. Soon, he hopes. Now, he wants.
