👀💖 so the promptlist? Nr Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldnt help but steal it 👀💖
thank you so much for the prompt! <3
It took a few days because my inspiration was on holiday...
This is fic is more the aftermath of the prompt you sent me. I imagined Jaskier secretly taking one of Geralt’s worn shirts before they part for the winter. This is what follows:
“What are you...is everything alright, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, looking confused at the witcher who had just a moment ago knocked on his door.
Geralt wasn’t sure how to answer that so he looked around Jaskier’s tidy and unfamiliar room at Oxenfurt university as Jaskier slowly closed the door.
It was late autumn and they had separated a week before for the winter months. But something made him turn around after a two days' ride towards Kaer Morhen, pulling him back to Jaskier.
Geralt’s eyes landed on a dark shirt laying rumpled on the bed. He walked over to pick it up.
“That’s mine”, was the first thing he said.
Jaskier was still overwhelmed by the witcher suddenly arriving in his rooms and stood unmoving, watching Geralt.
A heartbeat later he cleared his throat and asked with a frown, “is that why you’re here, Geralt?”
But the witcher didn’t turn to him.
Slowly Geralt grabbed the shirt, lifting it up.
“You’ve worn it,” he said in a rough voice before finally looking at the bard. The scent of lavender and honey - Jaskier’s scent - clung to the soft dark fabric and Jaskier’s cheeks turned an interesting shade of pink. Geralt tilted his head as he watched him closely.
“I must have...confused it for one of mine…” Jaskier said quietly, making it almost sound like a question, as if he was not sure himself.
“You don’t have any black shirts,” the witcher replied.
Geralt could see his Adam's apple moving up and down as the younger man swallowed.
“Well...ahhm…” the bard began, searching for the right thing to say. His blush had reached the tips of his ears now. He lifted one hand to scratch the back of his neck.
“I’ve...found it in my bags as I unpacked,” he said.
Geralt’s fingers carefully rubbed the soft fabric between his fingers. An unexpected image of Jaskier wearing his shirt crossed his mind. And all of a sudden Geralt had trouble keeping his pupils from dilating even though the room was quite bright.
“So you’ve worn it at night?” he guessed.
Jaskier looked down at the floor, head slightly nodding.
After a moment he inhaled deeply and looked back up at Geralt.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have..” but Geralt interrupted him with a raised hand. Why was it suddenly so warm in here?
They looked at each other. Time seemed to stand still and Geralt made an uncertain step towards him as if some invisible force pulled him towards the other.
Jaskier was looking at him, biting his lip. A heartbeat later Geralt made the last few steps and saw the familiar blue eyes widen in surprise as he stood before him.
“It’s okay,” Geralt said softly, “you can wear it.” Slowly he took one of Jaskier’s hands and pressed the shirt into it, closing the beautiful long fingers around the black fabric, holding onto Jaskier’s hand a moment longer than necessary.
Jaskier looked up at him in wonder. Was this a dream? He swallowed again.
“I could,” Jaskier whispered, “put it on now, if you like.” He hoped that he hadn’t read the situation wrong but when he registered Geralt’s eyes wandering down to his lips, he smiled softly.
Geralt opened his mouth, inhaling audibly as if there was suddenly not enough oxygen in the room.
Jaskier reached for his shoulder and squeezed softly.
“Stay like this,” he said and walked over to the bed.
Geralt stood with his back to him and didn’t dare to move. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening, his brain not catching up fast enough, but there was a pleasant warmth spreading through his core.
He could hear the swishing and rustling of fabric, the metallic sounds of a buckle opening, boots being discarded. The beat of his heart had picked up and he could hear it hammering in his ears.
“You can turn around now,” Jaskier said softly in his melodic voice.
And Geralt did. A low sound escaped his throat, something not quite human as he saw Jaskier standing just a few meters away in nothing but Geralt’s shirt. This was different - better - than the image that had just moments ago crossed his mind.
His eyes were roaming over Jaskier. The shirt was hanging loosely to his thigh and his pale skin lay in stark contrast to the black fabric of the shirt, looking soft, almost glowing.
The shirt was too big for Jaskier, the neckline so wide it exposed one of his shoulders. His hair was tousled from the hurried exchange of clothes and Geralt found himself once more taking quick steps towards his bard. This time he stepped so close that he could feel Jaskier’s hot breath on his lips. The bard inhaled sharply, followed by a barely audible groan as Geralt lifted his hand to cup Jaskier’s cheek.
He leaned into the touch, eyelids fluttering shut.
“I…” Geralt began but didn’t know how to continue.
Jaskier opened his eyes once more, licking his lips. Geralt traced the movement of the pink tip of his tongue. All effort of keeping control thrown overboard as his pupils blew wide open.
“You can kiss me if you like,” Jaskier breathed softly. Geralt looked up from his lips into the familiar blue eyes.
“I like that,” Geralt said in a hoarse voice. As if to test the waters, he stroked his thumb lightly over Jaskier’s lower lip. One more time he looked the other man in the eyes before he leaned forward, closing the gap to press his lips softly to Jaskier’s. He felt the bard humm softly and his hand wandered to the back of his neck as his other one found Jaskier’s waist, pulling him closer. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt as they deepened the kiss.
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