Work Text:
"Gods. Would you stay still?" Jaskier pleads.
"You're not doing it right," Geralt retorts.
"And you can't reach this spot, which means in either case my way is better than yours, so stay still." At Geralt's dark look, he adds, "Please."
Geralt gives a grunt of displeasure, but he does finally turn around and settle. Jaskier smiles at his back and keeps chatting to keep both of their minds off unpleasant things. "You know, I just learned a new recipe from a lovely barmaid who kept me entertained while you were off saving the village. Oi, don't look like that, 'entertained' has many meanings."
"I'm sure."
Jaskier's grin widens. "I like when you're jealous. Though you don't need to be. There's only one person I'm offering to cook dinner for." He finishes patching up the wound and tapes down a bit of cloth to cover it up. "Alright now, lean forward. I need to see to your hair. You've got bits of whatever-the-fuck still in it."
"She was a bruxa," Geralt intones, leaning forward in the tub obediently. "If I had known that going in, I wouldn't have wasted time using the wrong weapon."
Jaskier hums. "Well, you can't expect all the villagers to be a walking bestiary. You got her in the end."
This grunt seems to convey agreement with a tinge of frustration. Jaskier studiously pours water over Geralt's hair, combing through the locks with his fingers until it becomes unmatted and the water runs clear.
"Alright, get dressed. I'll start on dinner."
Jaskier hums a new tune he's been working on while he gets the fire going and starts mixing everything together based on the new recipe. He adds the pasta to the boiling water and startles when he finds Geralt standing close behind him.
"One of these days I'm going to put a bell on you," Jaskier threatens. He turns slightly and gasps when he sees what Geralt is wearing. The fabric is stretched tight over his arms, and the fastenings are undone, but— "Is that my shirt?"
Geralt shrugs. "Only clean thing I could find, and it's too cold to go without."
"Right, yeah. Of course. No, help yourself. I have a jacket you can stretch out as well, if you're in the mood." Despite his sarcasm, the thought of wearing one of his performing jackets after Geralt has strained the seams to their limit makes his heart beat faster.
Geralt ignores him. "What were you humming?"
"I've been workin' on somethin' new," Jaskier mumbles, crunching on a piece of pasta that is definitely not ready yet. He spits it out and clears his throat. "No lyrics yet, just a bit of music. Want to hear it all the way through?"
At Geralt's nod, Jaskier turns back to his sauce, adding the spices and starting his new tune from the top. By the time he gets to the end, his sauce is ready as well, and he turns to offer Geralt a taste.
"It's good," Geralt says.
"The song or the sauce?"
"Yes."
Jaskier laughs. "Right. Well, thank you. It should all be ready in a few minutes."
"It's late," Geralt observes after a couple of minutes, staring out of the window. "You didn't have to do all this."
"Don't make a fuss," Jaskier retorts. "I don't mind. We've all got to eat. You— you do have to eat, right?"
Geralt shoots him a glare with an unamused hum.
"Eat up, then," he says, dishing out a generous portion for Geralt. "It's not every day we get access to the good stuff."
"Hmm," Geralt says, taking his plate. From the way he closes his eyes as he brings the food closer, Jaskier can tell that he's pleased.
They eat in relative quiet, Jaskier too hungry and enjoying the meal too much to feel the need to fill the silence.
"So, what's on the docket for tomorrow? Are we off to a new village to slay their wayward monsters?"
"Nothing immediate," Geralt answers. "We could… stay. For a couple of nights."
Jaskier fights a smile. There was a time when Geralt would balk at the thought of Jaskier tagging along to his next venture, which is not to mention how rare the idea would've been for the two of them to stay together in the meantime. "Staying sounds nice. I may be able to weasel more recipes out of the barmaid."
"Try not to make any dire enemies while we're here."
"It's just recipes!" Jaskier argues. He sees the hint of Geralt's smirk and realizes, "You're just winding me up, aren't you?"
Geralt doesn't answer, just begins clearing away their plates.
"As if I need further coaxing, with you strutting around in my shirt," he says, following Geralt closely. He waits for Geralt to turn around before he drops to his knees, easing open Geralt’s breeches.
He takes the opportunity of surprise to pull all of Geralt's somewhat soft dick into his mouth—a feat he can't quite manage when he's fully hard. The thrill of feeling the evidence of Geralt's arousal under Jaskier's attention will never fail to turn him on.
"Mm. I guess we've found one way to shut you up."
Jaskier pulls off and gives Geralt's wet dick a few strokes, coaxing him to full hardness. "That joke's as old as you are."
Geralt's fingers slide into his hair as he sinks back down, sucking hard as he moves into a rhythm. He keeps it up until his jaw starts to hurt. Pulling off, he ignores Geralt's groan and pulls his breeches down further. Satisfied, he sucks two fingers into his mouth, getting them nice and wet. He returns his attention to the head of Geralt's dick while also reaching back with his fingers to massage against Geralt's hole. He gets a pleased moan and a salty burst of precome against his tongue for his trouble, and he keeps working his tongue against the slit of Geralt's cock as his breathing becomes more erratic.
"Jaskier," Geralt breathes, his fingers tightening in Jaskier's hair. Jaskier takes his cock in as far as he can, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks him down, pulling him over the edge.
Satisfied with Geralt's pleasure, Jaskier sits back and massages his hand over his own cock, groaning in relief.
"Stand up," Geralt says gruffly, and Jaskier rushes to obey. In the next moment, he's being lifted onto the counter, dishes pushed out of the way. He yelps as Geralt tugs his breeches down, then again when he bends down to suck Jaskier's cock into his mouth.
"Oh fuck," Jaskier says, tipping his head back. Geralt has none of the limitations Jaskier does, and he can feel the warm, wet heat of his mouth surrounding every inch of him. He doesn't last long from that point, working his hips futilely as Geralt holds him down. His shouts of pleasure echo off the walls as Geralt continues to suck him, swallowing every drop of come.
They both make their way into bed not long after, comfortable in the afterglow. Jaskier puffs up his pillows until he's satisfied, then shoots Geralt a look of reproach. "Don't lie on your back. You'll disturb the healing process."
"Fine," Geralt says, twisting onto his side. "Don't pretend this isn't a ruse for more cuddling."
Geralt could have turned to his other side if he was opposed, but Jaskier doesn't point that out. "You've got me. Just angling for more snuggling."
Geralt wrinkles his nose at the word, but he still slings an arm over Jaskier's middle without argument.
Outside their window, it begins to rain. Jaskier slips into sleep gracefully, warm and content.
---
He wakes up overheated and sweaty. It's still raining, and Geralt is half on top of him, his body radiating heat. "Ease up a bit," Jaskier mumbles, shoving ineffectually at Geralt's shoulder. "You're like a self-contained fire."
Geralt grunts and moves away slightly, though Jaskier is unsure if he heard him or is just shifting in his sleep. Either way, it's better, and the chill from outside works quickly to bring his body temperature back to normal. There are things he wants to get done today, but for now, he's happy to stay here in Geralt's arms. With a happy sigh, he settles back again and lets himself slip back to sleep.