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The sun was coming up over the horizon. It shone gently through the curtains of the room that Geralt and Jaskier were sharing. It’s soft glow illuminated the two of them sprawled out on the inn bed, their noticeable languidity made it obvious that they hadn’t slept the night before. Jaskier’s lute was light in his grip. His deft fingers composing something that had been stuck somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind.
His head was resting on Geralt’s chest, his hips positioned between the man’s thighs. Geralt was falling in and out of whatever consciousness he could hold onto, his drowsiness getting the better of him. When he wasn’t stuck in his miraculous sleep-like state he was carefully kissing Jaskier’s skin like it was the most fragile thing to exist in his hellish world. His neck, his shoulders, the underside of his jaw.
It was peaceful. So peaceful that it almost made Jaskier worry that all of it was just too good to be true. Neither of them ever got this much tranquility, this much quiet. It was unnatural. Jaskier spoke and Geralt’s eyes slowly fluttered open.
“We should do this more often, yeah? Just… Nothing.”
“Hm.” Geralt’s response came from the back of his throat, a lazy agreement.
“Of course, we’re always knee-deep in some sort of trouble with our monster of the week, and we never get a chance to even let ourselves think, let alone relax like this. And maybe we should actually get some sleep, we probably have to--”
“Jaskier.”
“Yes?” He tilted his head to look Geralt in the eyes, effectively knocking him in the chin.
“Shut up.” Geralt caught Jaskier’s lips with his own and pulled him into a slow kiss.
Jaskier’s hand instinctively went to the back of Geralt’s head, pulling him closer still and holding on as if he was afraid the other man would suddenly float away. Geralt’s arms wrapped around Jaskier’s waist and one of his hands pushed under the bard’s shirt, gently exploring the expanse of his back. Jaskier broke the kiss, smiling like and fool and rubbing circles into the back of Geralt’s neck.
“Well. You certainly seem more awake now.”
Geralt’s mouth twisted into one of his rare grins. He leaned back down to kiss Jaskier again, just because he loved knowing that he could. They stayed like that for a while, tangled in each others arms with the morning sun washing over them in waves. Jaskier’s lute sat at the end of the bed, discarded in exchange for something he thought was much more interesting.
Jaskier didn’t think he could ever get tired of this. Of the push and pull of their mouths, of the passionate heat that Geralt lit inside of him, of the contentedness that came along with whatever their relationship was. He didn’t want to think about anything else in moments like this, he just wanted to focus on the give and get that he knew so well.
There was something about Jaskier that made Geralt absolutely terrified. It probably had something to do with the way he became so vulnerable around the younger man. It was so ingrained in his mind that vulnerability meant weakness. He wasn’t sure what to do when he let all of his defenses down. Suddenly he was so soft, so impressionable, and it scared him to know that somebody could have that effect on him.
There were a few more minutes of lazy kissing before either of them spoke again. Jaskier parted his lips, and Geralt noticed how swollen they were from the activity. He restrained himself from swooping down and toying with them some more.
“And here I was this whole time, thinking you were far too tired to even lift a finger.”
Geralt coughed out a laugh. “Anything to prevent you from rambling… Or singing.”
“My voice is delightful, and you know it.”
“Hm.”
Jaskier sighed and slid from Geralt’s arms. He laid his head on one of the many pillows that surrounded them. “We should probably get some sleep. I remember you saying something about leaving at dusk.”
“You listened.”
“Of course I did.” Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s arm and tugged gently. “Come on you big lug. Don’t tell me you can’t sleep now.”
Geralt gave in and settled down next to Jaskier. As soon as he did, the bard practically flung himself on top of the witcher, resting his head in the crook of the older man’s neck. He sighed contently, and Geralt watched his eyes slowly flutter shut. Geralt too closed his eyes, happy that as of recently, he didn’t need a good fuck in order to put himself to sleep.
Just as the two of them were getting comfortable, a loud knocking sound echoed throughout the room. Jaskier startled, knocking into Geralt’s chin for the second time that morning. A voice came soon after the knocking. It was the innkeeper.
“Witcher! Last night you promised me you’d be outta here two hours ago.” There was another series of knocks. “I know you’re in there! I’m expecting my payment!”
Geralt groaned, his promise to the innkeeper had been totally forgotten. Swept up in a long night of being eager to please. He pulled Jaskier closer and whispered into his hair.
“Fuck.”