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"What the fuck are you doing?", Geralt asks bewildered.
"What do you mean?", says Jaskier while dropping his pants and stepping into the bathtub in one swift movement.
"Scout over."
Geralt makes room between his legs coming face to face with his roommate, who seems to have even more boundary issues than Geralt was ever able to presume. It's like the man has no shame whatsoever.
He swallows, before looking at the ceiling.
"Why are you sitting in the bathtub with me?" Geralt almost regrets that he asks immediately.
"Let me tell you, I just had the most miserable day. You won't believe what that slimy fucker Marx has done now- Did I mention him? Valdo Marx? The one with the mustache, looks like a villain- er- Anyway- "
Geralt groaned internally when Jaskier started to go on a tangent about how his ' nemesis ' had stolen Jaskiers spot to play at the Posada bar every Friday evening. Geralt couldn't care less in the slightest.
" -and the worst is. He knows just as much as me that the bar is a shithole. He just can't stand that I'm having more gigs than him. It's like he wants to ruin my career."
( Geralt bites his tongue to not ask him 'what career?')
Geralt waited a few moments to see if Jaskier was done with his rant with way too much words for far too little information before he had to ask.
"That still doesn't explain why we are sitting in the bathtub together."
"Oh, well you know how you are." He answers while his ankle brushes Geralt's tight. Geralt jerks at the contact, even more water splashing on the floor.
Jaskier doesn't seem to be bothered, his heartbeat still steady as ever in Geralts ears. The musician sinks down to his shoulders with a low moan, taking even more space up in the small tube, creating more points of contact where skin touches skin.
(' Don't think about all the wet naked skin of your roommate, Geralt!' he tells himself while trying to forget he ever heard that moan. )
Geralt tries very hard to maintain eye contact.
"So this is my fault?" He eventually asks.
"Of course! Geralt, you spend literal hours in the bathtub. Don't get Witchers all wrinkly? That can't be healthy for your skin. So every single time when I want - need - a relaxing bath to unwind, you have already occupied the bathroom. So. Lucky you. From now on, you got to share."
Geralt doesn't react further. He closes his eyes so he doesn't find himself staring at Jaskier's chest. Or lower.
( He doesn't need more wanking material of his roommate. It's like the man is trying to drive him mad, when he walks around their flat with his tiny tiny shorts. Geralt feels ashamed as it is, no need to take a peak and make it worse. There is no coming back from that, now get a grip Geralt!)
Jaskier has started to absent mindly tap his foot against Geralts tight again. This time Geralt manages to sit still.
Jaskier starts talking again, but Geralt is ignoring him, like he is ignoring the unwanted want coiling in his stomach.
(He is in hell.)