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    Summary

    "I'll be good for you," Jaskier promised, kissing Geralt's throat. "Or be good to you. Whichever you'd like." His voice broke into a purr towards the end of his sentence.

    "Jaskier," Geralt groaned. He wrapped his fingers around Jaskier's waist, regretfully. He was a hair's breadth away from dislodging the bard himself when Jaskier yelped and jerked out of his grasp, nearly tumbling off the bed.

    "You're insufferable," Yennefer told him, standing in the doorway. Jaskier sat up and rubbed the side of his head, scowling over what Geralt could only assume was some sort of disembodied smack. "Come with me. I require assistance, and it seems as though yours will have to do.”

    ---

    Geralt's tired from a hunt, Jaskier very much isn't, and Yennefer knows just how to deal with it. If only Geralt could actually sleep through it.

    Series
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