hey babe... i heard no one has sent you a wrist kisses prompt... 👀 got any ideas for soft boi wrist kisses???
Ohhhh Comfy. Back at it again with those good asks!
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Geralt emerged from the forest in all his black-eyed glory and stared Jaskier down in complete silence. The bard suppressed a shiver from his seat on the opposite side of the flickering campfire, smiling softly instead. “Welcome back, dear heart.”
The Witcher gave a primal growl from deep in his chest and crossed the short distance between them with a few quick strides. He knelt beside the bard and bowed his head. He nuzzled briefly into Jaskier’s side before pulling back and giving a brief, nervous whine.
“What’s wrong?” Jaskier asked. Geralt grumbled wordlessly, eyebrows scrunching together as the black veins curling around his temples and cheekbones began to retreat. Jaskier knew how overstimulated Geralt could get when his potions didn’t wear off immediately after a fight. “Can you understand me, Geralt, or are you still a bit feral?”
“Hmm.”
“Alright. What do you need? Nod if you need to touch, shake your head if you need to be left alone, and tap my leg twice if you want me to hum.”
He watched Geralt slowly, carefully nod.
“Go ahead and touch how you need, darling. I’m ready.”
Geralt reached out carefully and curled his hand around Jaskier’s left forearm, pulling the limb towards himself as if the bard might suddenly spook and take off into the woods. The Witcher slid the smooth material of Jaskier’s shirt up his arm, listening as the mortal’s heart sped up within the confines of his ribcage. Why? There wasn’t a whiff of fear on him. If anything, Jaskier smelled happy; happy and-
Geralt leaned forward and pressed his lips to the smooth, softly scented skin of the bard’s slim wrist, noting the way Jaskier’s breath caught beautifully in his throat when they made contact. The Witcher inhaled deeply, noting the melon-bright smell that seemed to flicker in and out of the bard’s usually musky, warm-rain scent. “What are you feeling, Jaskier?”
“Huh?” the bard startled. His eyes, so beautifully bright and blue even in the darkness, seemed to flutter closed as Geralt pressed another languid, lingering kiss to the pulse point at his wrist. “Oh.”
“What are you feeling... about me?”
“Good. Nothing but good, happy, lovely things.”
“Hmm. Will you tell me more about those good, happy, lovely things in the morning after we’ve both gotten some much-needed rest?”
“Yes. I’ll tell you everything and anything you want to know.”
The black of Geralt’s eyes had faded, leaving his gorgeous golden irises behind. He kissed a path between Jaskier’s palm and elbow, tracing his lips up and down the expanse of creamy skin over and over until Jaskier was practically panting above him. He glanced up through his lashes and saw the way his bard was flushed and slack-jawed, quieter than he’d been in days except for the hammering of his heart in his chest. The Witcher smiled. “Good. I have some questions.”
