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one.
A first kiss is supposed to be something special and Jaskier has had so many of them over the years. But usually, they're with different people. He's not used to having more than one first kiss with the same person and certainly wasn't expecting that person to be Geralt.
The first time, they've been away from town a long time and Jaskier is... wanting. He knows this contract is worth a lot and Geralt has been so focused on tracking that he probably hasn't realized how long it's been since they've been to town. But Jaskier has and he's getting antsy.
"Geralt do you think-" he tugs his boot out of a patch of brambles and sighs, "that we could head back soon? Sleep at an inn tonight?" he doesn't get a response, so he just sighs and plops down right where he is. Up ahead, Geralt shouts back without even pausing,
"Are you just gonna sit there or are you coming with me?"
Jaskier sighs. Geralt's right though, he can't just sit here all night. So he reluctantly gets up and goes after him, muttering under his breath. They continue in this way for the next three hours.
"It's just that... I haven't even kissed someone in weeks. Weeks, Geralt. Do you know what that's like? It's torture, utter-" he walks directly into Geralt's back with a thud and takes a step back as Geralt turns to face him.
"Jaskier," he says abruptly, but not overly angry. Jaskier's eyes flick up to his and he pauses. "If I kiss you, will you shut up and let me get on with it?"
"Uh, y-yes?"
Immediately, Geralt's palm is on his cheek and Jaskier is breathless. He leans in without hesitation and Jaskier is absolutely not prepared for Geralt's mouth on his own. He kisses him gently, leaning in and it's slow and deep and Jaskier isn't sure he's going to survive. Geralt takes a step forward and Jaskier presses into him, letting out a soft moan as Geralt's lips part against his own.
And he drowns in it. Pulled under by the current, he lets himself sink. His whole body burns with it and he can't breathe, but if he pulls back Geralt might stop and he doesn't think he could bear that. And all the while Geralt's hand remains on his face, anchoring him.
And he just... doesn't stop. Geralt's other hand comes to rest on his hip and it goes on for so long that Jaskier is expecting it to lead to something more.
When Geralt does pull away, it's abrupt and Jaskier is left reeling. He's breathless and more than a little turned on and who even knew Witchers were so skilled at kissing in the first place? Where the fuck did that even come from?
"That was..." he starts and when he looks up, Geralt is already a dozen paces ahead of him. "Geralt! Where did you- that was... very good you know. I didn't take you for someone who would be so-"
"What?" Geralt asks.
"I just didn't think you got a lot of practice, is all."
Geralt scoffs, rolling his eyes as he turns back to his tracking. Theoretically, Jaskier knows Geralt has had some practice with kissing and sex. He's been to brothels and some of his friends seem just this side of too familiar, but shit he was not expecting that.
Jaskier is quick to catch up to him again, but he spends the rest of the night in a daze.
two.
Jaskier has been invited to a ball. Normally, he would be delighted to attend an event back home, but it's a special celebration, a party to celebrate his sister's engagement and it's for family only. But Jaskier isn't about to drag Geralt all the way to Lettenhove and tell him he's not allowed to come. Which only leaves one option-
"I need you to be my husband," he announces cheerfully. They're already well on their way to the coast and Jaskier has been considering how to break the news before deciding it's best to just get it over with. "They won't let anyone in who's not family, but they could hardly refuse my husband entry now, could they?"
He beams up at Geralt, stumbling a little over a rock. He thinks it's a great plan, but Geralt doesn't show emotion one way or the other. He just stays silent and looks ahead again. Jaskier would give anything to know what's going on in his head right now.
It doesn't come up again until they're on the border of Temeria and about to cross into Kerack. Jaskier reminds him again when they're sharing a room at an inn. Geralt refuses to share the bed so Jaskier offers it to him before climbing up next to him and cuddling up behind him. Geralt grumbles.
"Hush my love. You're my husband, remember? You can hardly deny me the warmth of our bed so soon after our marriage."
Geralt scoffs at him, but Jaskier thinks it sounds more like a laugh than a grunt and he'll take what he can get.
They set out early the next morning, reaching the borders of Lettenhove by late evening. Jaskier is exhausted and Geralt seems to be getting antsy - probably about the party, maybe about the lie. Jaskier isn't worried about it, he knows well enough how to throw his title around when he needs to and most of the time, it works.
They're stopped at the bridge across to the palace and Jaskier dismounts, nodding his head at the guardsmen. One of them gives him a flash of a smile before looking up and scowling at Geralt.
"Your invitation was for one, master Julian."
"You'd hardly deny my husband entry," Jaskier says simply. The guard lifts an eyebrow and gives Jaskier a questioning look.
"The viscount isn't married," he says simply.
"I understand where your position, truly," Jaskier starts, "but I've been away for some time and in that time, I've found myself not only betrothed but married to a man whom I love very much and whom I wish to bring home to introduce to my family."
The guard looks unconvinced and Jaskier is both angry at his defiance and the fact that he simply refuses to believe Jaskier would marry someone like Geralt. Which, as a matter of fact, he would be delighted to do. Anger boils up and he's about to start threatening when Geralt slips from Roach, coming up to wind a comforting arm around his waist.
"It's fine, love," he whispers and it may just be a ruse, but Jaskier will never forget the sound of that word on his lips, the way it shudders through him like the cold.
"It's not-" he starts, but his voice fails him and before he can do anything else, Geralt gets two fingers under his chin, tipping it up so Jaskier is looking at him.
"Go alone, I wouldn't want you to miss your sister's party on my account. You can introduce us another time."
The look in his eyes is so unbearably soft and when he leans in, Jaskier's breath catches in his chest. Cold lips brush against his own and Geralt leans in, deepening the kiss as Jaskier presses into it. It's so unexpected that Jaskier isn't sure what to do with it, but Geralt's arm remains around his waist and he pulls him forward, pressing their bodies together.
Jaskier is stunned by his enthusiasm. Geralt leans into him, fingers twitching against his hip as he deepens the kiss and Jaskier barely withholds a groan as he feels Geralt's tongue against the seam of his lips. He wants to press into the touch, wants to touch and feel and have him, but it's a fine line between pretending to be with him and pushing too far. And right now, Jaskier isn't exactly sure where that line is.
Because Geralt's hands slip under his doublet, moving further until they're on either side of his chest, moving down to settle in the dip of his sides. And Geralt just presses closer, breathing hard through his nose and nipping softly at Jaskier's lower lip.
And Jaskier can't keep from losing himself, can't hold himself together with Geralt like this, so he kisses him hard. He throws his arms around his neck, arching against him as Geralt's teeth press in a little firmer and it's not until the more suspicious guard clears his throat that he's tugged abruptly back to reality.
He pulls out of Geralt's arms, smoothing his clothes down even as the memory of Geralt's hands on him lingers. He opens his mouth to speak, but Geralt's voice is the one he hears.
"Apologies," he pants, "it's been… some time since my lord and I have been together. He keeps so busy I don't see him often and we were hoping to get to the palace and to our room."
The same guard chokes and steps aside, not even daring to look at them as Geralt reaches up and takes Roach's reins, tugging gently to urge her forward.
It's not until they get to their room that Jaskier finally trusts his voice enough to speak and to thank Geralt for getting them out of what could otherwise have been a mess.
three.
Jaskier is struggling. It's been a relatively easy day in an easy week, but tonight he has time to compose and he can't get this one particular verse right. And it's killing him.
It's supposed to be a romantic ballad of a peasant woman in disguise as a knight, recusing the love of her life from where she's been held captive in a tower. The longing of being apart, he's got down, but now he's reached the point where they're reunited and he can't get the words out. And how is he supposed to when he needs to write a kiss and he himself hasn't been kissed in ages (Geralt notwithstanding, but even that was weeks ago now and they're not talking about it).
He's just not feeling very romantic tonight, so he flings himself back onto the grass, staring up at the stars with his notebook and lute on his chest and he sighs. Across the camp, Geralt makes a noise and shifts.
"What's wrong?" he asks, not even looking up from where he's stitching one of his shirts back together.
"How am I supposed to write the most romantic ballads the continent has ever heard when there is so little romance in my life?" Geralt snorts at him, attention still focused on his shirt. "Do you know," Jaskier continues, "that I can't even remember what it's like to be kissed?"
Geralt just lifts a skeptical eyebrow at him but says nothing.
"Perhaps you could help?" Jaskier suggests.
"What could I possibly do to help?"
"I have it on good authority that you're an excellent kisser and… maybe we could do that again. For research purposes, you see."
"What," Geralt smirks, "your memory not good enough for you?"
"Please, Geralt, it'll help."
For a moment there's nothing, then there's a scuffling sound and when Jaskier looks over, Geralt is rising to his feet. He crosses to stand in front of him, nudging Jaskier's knees apart to stand between them and Jaskier holds his breath. Geralt bends low over him, cupping his cheek and pulling him into a soft kiss. He doesn't let himself sink too much into it, keeping only at the surface and Geralt hums against him.
He shoves a leg between his thighs, pushing closer, but just as Jaskier bites back a moan, Geralt pulls back before it can get to be too much.
"Good enough?" he asks and Jaskier wants to say no, to pull him down and kiss him senseless and press against him and- he pulls himself back to the present and looks up at Geralt, nodding solemnly.
He pulls himself back up, taking his quill to paper and scratching out notes of what he wants Geralt to do to him. If he can't write a kiss from memory, he can write about what he wants.
four.
He's not supposed to get involved in Geralt's battles, but what was he supposed to do when Geralt was disarmed and backed into a corner. Jaskier jumps into the fray, bolting for Geralt's sword. If he can just get it to him- but he catches the attention of the devourer and instead of getting Geralt his sword back to him, he only manages to distract the devourer by turning its attention on him.
For a few moments, he manages to keep it away from Geralt and also keep away from it, but it's fast, faster than he is and before long, Jaskier finds himself right in front of it. The thing swings at him and Jaskier ducks, but not quickly enough. The strength of the devourer sends him flying sideways into a tree and Jaskier cries out as his shoulder connects with solid wood.
Immediately, he pulls himself up to his feet, holding his shoulder and seething. He tries to call the beast toward him again, but it's turned his attention back to Geralt. Luckily, the diversion bought him some time and Geralt has had time to retrieve his sword and lunge for the monster.
And he looks furious. Jaskier is dreading whatever comes next for him, but for now, he's just relieved that Geralt is in control again. Geralt dodges and swipes and fakes out, eventually overtaking the beast and piercing his sword up through the underside of its jaw. It shudders on his blade then collapses against the dirt and it's barely stopped moving before Geralt is bolting forward, dropping to his knees right in front of Jaskier.
"Are you hurt?" he asks and Jaskier shakes his head, but only because he doesn't trust his voice not to waver if he speaks. "Let go of your shoulder," Geralt says calmly and slowly, Jaskier does as he's asked. "I think it's dislocated," Geralt hums, looking it over and brushing his hands over his shoulder.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I have to put it back into place for you."
"I.. no, I don't think so. Can't it just go back on its own?"
"It won't," Geralt huffs, "it has to be put back or it's going to continue to hurt and be useless."
"Please-" Jaskier says, but Geralt cuts him off.
"Last week you threw yourself between me and a harpy and just now you tried to fend off a devourer and you don't want me to put your shoulder back into place?"
Jaskier shakes his head and Geralt sighs. He tries again, but Jaskier is adamant and then suddenly there are warm lips against his and he gasps at the suddenness of it before letting himself enjoy it. Geralt kisses him deeply, running one hand through his hair and then his other hand is on his shoulder, shoving and-
Jaskier pulls back with a start as pain shoots through him, but when he tries to move his arm, the pain is significantly less than before. He looks up at Geralt to find him looking rather smug at him and Jaskier splutters.
"You used me-" he accuses, but Geralt just huffs a quiet laugh at him, taking his arm again and wrapping it up so he can't move it around too much and make it worse.
It does feel better and by the time they turn in for bed that night, Jaskier is reluctantly grateful for it. But as he watches Geralt methodically prepare for bed, he's a little disappointed that the kiss didn't last longer this time.
five.
Strictly speaking, Jaskier isn't supposed to be here at all. The contract had specified utmost secrecy and while Geralt is usually willing to do anything asked of him (within reason), he was firm but not leaving Jaskier alone with a bruxa roaming the halls of the castle, regardless of what the king had asked. The working story, if caught, is that Jaskier is acting as bait, but Jaskier likes to pretend that Geralt just doesn't want him out of his sight after the incident with the devourer.
So now at midnight, they're creeping through the halls, looking for any sign of the bruxa but so far there's nothing. Though the bodies the previous night say something is definitely lurking around after hours. Geralt slips around a corner, motioning for Jaskier to hold back and he does, but a second later Geralt is barreling back into him, hissing for him to get back.
They stumble back and Jaskier is suddenly pressed back against the wall firmly. Geralt hesitates for a moment, looking away from him, but then Jaskier hears the voices coming closer and Geralt pushes him back again, pressing a hand over his mouth. And abruptly, Jaskier's body goes limp under him, a side effect of years of being shoved up against walls for very different reasons.
Geralt seems unconcerned and slowly pulls his hand away, whispering for him to be quiet. Jaskier nods his understanding, but Geralt is so close and he smells good and he can't help the way his body reacts to that.
The guards come closer and Geralt presses right against him and Jaskier can't help the little moan that escapes him. It's quiet, barely even a sound, but in the silence of the hall it seems to echo and Jaskier bites down on his lip too late. Geralt's eyes snap onto his and in the very near distance, Jaskier can hear the guards' footsteps speed up.
But then Geralt is kissing him, somehow even closer than a moment before so there's not even an inch of space between them and Jaskier's mind goes blank. He can't think of anything but Geralt's mouth against him, hot and demanding and not letting up, even as the guards turn the corner. A diversion, he realizes, but it doesn't stop him from winding his arms around Geralt's waist and sliding his hands down over his ass.
Barely a few paces away now, the guards continue their approach, but Geralt pushes a knee between Jaskier's and he'd be happy enough to be tossed in the dungeon so long as they can continue uninterrupted. His hips give a little twitch and Geralt growls into his mouth and that… seems too real to be a diversion. Jaskier feels the vibrations all the way through him and he stutters when he pulls Geralt closer because Geralt's hard, the line of his cock pressing against Jaskier's thigh. Which is something. Jaskier doesn't have the wherewithal to process that right now, but then Geralt is tipping his head up roughly, ducking to kiss his neck just as the guards come upon them.
There's a thud as one walks straight into the other and then scattered mumbling as they trip over themselves to apologize and when Geralt looks up at them, they both mumble additional apologies and turn back in the opposite direction. Geralt doesn't kiss him again, but he doesn't pull away from him and Jaskier is aching with the effort it takes not to rut up against him.
Eventually, long after Jaskier can't hear the footsteps anymore, Geralt pulls away and Jaskier nearly cries though he's unsure if it's from relief or disappointment. He either wants Geralt back against him immediately or he needs to go back to their room on his own for a while and he doesn't see either being a likely option.
"Come on," Geralt whispers and Jaskier just shuts his eyes, leaning back against the wall.
"I'm just gonna… need a minute." To his surprise, Geralt nods and turns away.
By the time they get back to their room that night, Geralt seems to have forgotten the entire situation, but Jaskier will be thinking about it for the rest of their trip, if not the rest of his life.
plus one.
It's been a while since they've just been able to relax, but when they stroll into Oxenfurt, they arrive in the middle of a festival. There's a market in the center of town and various stages with performers scattered within the city so that everywhere they go, there's music on the air. Jaskier shuts his eyes and listens as they make their way to the inn. Once they've rented a room and organized their things, Jaskier asks if they might head down toward the festivities and Geralt, to his surprise, agrees.
They stroll through town looking at all the booths and stopping to watch the performers. Jaskier takes a turn on one of the stages, delighted when Geralt stays to watch, a soft smile on his face, and he's the only one Jaskier sees in the crowd. Afterward, they split sweet buns and pastries and fruit ciders of every variety imaginable. It's been a long time since Jaskier has enjoyed himself so thoroughly, and as the sun begins to set, he takes Geralt's hand and leads him, tipsy and warm with intoxication outside the city.
Others are already gathering for the firework celebration and Jaskier finds them a spot on the ridge of a hill, somehow unclaimed despite its views over the river. He plops himself down, only letting go of Geralt's hand when the angle becomes too awkward, but Geralt sits behind him, and Jaskier shuffles back, sitting between his thighs and leaning back against his chest.
It earns him a huff of amusement, but Geralt doesn't complain and doesn't tell him to move. They're both a little drunk, but the sunset is beautiful and Jaskier can't think of a better way to end his night, nor a better person to share it with. By the time they set off the fireworks, he's so tired he can barely keep his eyes open, instead resting his head against Geralt's chest and listening to the crack of their explosions, quickly followed by cheers and sounds of awe from the younger spectators.
Geralt's hand rests on his thigh and Jaskier twines their fingers together, humming softly as Geralt wraps his hand around his.
He doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until Geralt is shifting under him and for a moment, he's disappointed to have woken up because he's sure Geralt would have carried him back to the inn otherwise. But he looks up and Geralt smiles softly down at him, brushing a stray hair out of his face and Jaskier wouldn't trade this night for anything.
They make their way back to the inn, bumping against each other in their drowsiness and it's not until they get up to their room that Jaskieer realizes the room they booked only has one bed. They've both been looking forward to crawling into bed and sleeping well for once because it's been some time since they've had a bed. Jaskier makes a quick decision to let Geralt take the bed because it's hardly big enough for the both of them to share, even if they've done it a hundred times before when coin was low.
But Geralt strips down to his shorts and when he climbs into bed, he shuffles to one side, holding the blankets back in invitation. And Jaskier isn't one to turn down such an invitation, so he quickly undresses and climbs in next to him. He lies facing out into the room with Geralt's chest against his back, warm and rising softly with his breath.
"I had a good night tonight," he hums, "it's a shame we can't do this more often."
"Mm," comes the reply from behind, much closer than Jaskier had anticipated. He can feel Geralt's breath against the back of his neck and he shuts his eyes with a soft sigh.
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
"I did."
Jaskier turns over to face him, and Geralt smiles at him without opening his eyes. Jaskier shifts closer, tangling their legs together and Geralt's arm comes to drape over his hip, bringing him closer. The smile remains firmly in place and Jaskier's heart feels like it could burst from his chest.
"Geralt?" he asks quietly.
"Hm?"
Jaskier looks up at him, unable to find the words to properly thank him for the night, and he reaches up, brushing one hand through his hair.
"Thank you," he whispers, though the words feel flat on his tongue, not enough to express how much he truly appreciates tonight. Geralt hums again, tipping his head down so their noses bump together.
"Jaskier," he breathes.
There's nothing else, but then Geralt's lips brush against his own, soft and tentative and Jaskier's heart nearly stops. It's hardly the first time he's kissed him, but Geralt is so much softer than before, pressing forward only when Jaskier moves against him. And this is so different from before.
Tonight, there's no reason for Geralt to kiss him, there's certainly no reason for him to be so soft and gentle with him - none other than he simply wants to - and Jaskier could cry. He lets himself be drawn closer, completely entangled with Geralt as he kisses him, soft and slow and delightfully pointless.
There's no need for it, just the want to be closer, to feel each other, and Jaskier sinks into it easily, losing himself to the soft press of Geralt's lips of the brush of his thumb against his hip. When they do finally part, Jaskier isn't disappointed that it's over, because Geralt kisses his nose and his forehead as he settles against him and rather than an ending, it feels like the beginning.