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Geralt walks into the brothel, hoping he will not be chased out. All he wants is a place to clean and bandage his wounds and the chance to sleep off the lingering effects of his potions. After being refused a room at the inn, he just wants a bed, and he doesn’t care where it is. He has no problem paying extra to get a room to himself, but before he can talk to anyone, he hears a familiar voice coming from the front of the room.
“But the story is this
She'll destroy with her sweet kiss
Her sweet kiss
But the story is this
She'll destroy with her sweet kiss.”
Geralt is frozen in place, body tense as he gets ready to bolt for the door. Jaskier’s back is to him and it would be easy to sneak out before he’s seen. He starts to turn, determined to bed down with Roach in the woods when the owner catches sight of him.
“Don’t go yet, love! It’s late, but there are still some girls free.”
The music comes to a halt, and Geralt can feel the moment Jaskier finally notices him. “Just a room,” he murmurs, refusing to meet Jaskier’s gaze.
“Come now,” the madam moves closer, batting her eyelashes and arching her back to make her breasts stand out. “There must be one of our girls who you’d-”
“He’s mine.” Jaskier growls, lute in one hand, the other already reaching for Geralt.
Geralt hadn’t heard Jaskier approach and he manages, just barely, to keep from reacting. “I just want a room. Alone.”
The madam takes a step back and nods at Jaskier. “Enjoy, Dandelion. Your room has been prepared just as you like it.”
“I don’t-”
“Geralt, hush.” Jaskier gets a hold of Geralt’s arm and squeezes, fingers digging into his bicep in a warning. Geralt’s mouth clicks shut and Jaskier smiles. “Very good.”
He turns back to the madam and continues grinning. “Have hot water sent up for a bath. My Witcher,” Jaskier puts extra emphasis on the word, my, “clearly needs one.” He leans in closer to the woman, “and a reminder of just who is in charge.”
The way Jaskier is talking about him, it’s almost as though Geralt isn’t even there. A part of Geralt wants to argue, but there is another, small, part of him that warms at the words and the confident way Jaskier lays claim to him. His jaw is clenched with the effort of keeping quiet as he follows the bard upstairs to a warm and well-decorated room, eyes already checking every corner for danger.
Once the door shuts behind them, he jerks his arm free of Jaskier’s grip and presses his back to the wall. “What the fuck was that?”
“You’re welcome.” Jaskier strips off his doublet and tosses it onto a chair, back to Geralt as he stokes the fire.
“I want answers, Jaskier.” Geralt pushes off the wall and stalks closer, intent on dragging answers from the bard however he can.
“I’m a regular here.” He says as though that explains everything. Jaskier notices Geralt still staring and continues on. “This place caters to a very specific clientele. I needed to get you up here before one of the girls decided she was going to try and put you on your knees. And we both know how that would have turned out.”
Jaskier shoos Geralt further into the room, opening it for a few maids carrying pails of hot water. Geralt wraps his fingers around one of the bedposts and watches as Jaskier directs the maids. They keep their heads lowered, sly smiles curving their lips as they all sneak peeks at the bard. Jaskier, for the most part, ignores them, watching as the tub gets filled to his liking.
He watches the water gets poured into the tub and once the maids leave, he moves back into Geralt’s space. “It’s obvious you’re still dealing with the effects of your elixirs. I will explain more once you’re in the bath and I can get a look at your wounds.” Geralt opens his mouth to protest and Jaskier hushes him. “Don’t. I know you’re injured. Now strip.”
Jaskier holds himself differently. He has his shoulders back, mouth a firm line as his eyes lock on Geralt. It’s different from the other times Geralt has seen him. Geralt is used to seeing Jaskier with a smile on his face, teasing and enticing a crowd with his music and into giving up their coin. Now, there is a vein of steel in Jaskier’s words and it leaves Geralt wanting to yield and do as he’s told.
When he continues to just stand in the middle of the room, Jaskier sighs and rubs at his eyes. “Strip, Geralt. It’s just a bath and taking care of your wounds.”
Geralt begins undressing, acutely aware of Jaskier watching him as he moves around the room, lighting candles and checking the linens on the bed. He drops his clothes on the floor and stands in the middle of the room, waiting. He knows he could get in the bath and let the hot water do its work easing his pains, but instead, he waits.
When Jaskier doesn’t hear any sounds indicating Geralt has gotten into the tub, he’s confused. He turns around and sees Geralt standing there with an expression Jaskier knows very well. He walks toward the Witcher, hands held out where Geralt can see them. “Good, Geralt. I’m so happy you did as you were told.” Geralt’s shoulders relax and Jaskier lets go of the breath he’d been holding. “Get in the tub now.”
Even though it’s just the slightest bit of praise, Geralt shivers and gets in the tub. The water is still hot and as he sinks down, he groans, muscles aching as they begin to loosen and relax.
“What have you done to me, Jaskier?”
Jaskier rolls up his sleeves and takes the pitcher from the washstand. “Nothing.” He kneels near the tub and fills the pitcher. “Head back.” Geralt tips his head back and Jaskier grins. “Good.” He pours the water over Geralt’s hair and takes the soap in his hands. “I’m going to wash your hair.”
Another shiver runs down Geralt’s spine and he frowns. “You’re doing something.”
Long fingers delve into the tangle of Geralt’s hair, scrubbing at his scalp, but still managing to be gentle. “Geralt, I am not doing anything. I swear it. I think since you’re coming down from your elixirs, you’re feeling more open and maybe,” Jaskier takes a deep breath. Geralt may not like hearing what he’s about to say. “Maybe you want to do what I tell you?”
Jaskier studies Geralt’s face and while his expression is as dour as usual, there’s a slight softening around his eyes and Jaskier wonders if Geralt would let himself be taken care of for once. “You’re allowed to want that. This brothel, it specializes in that. I do more than provide music when I’m here. I also take charge of the clients who crave it.”
Pulling away, Geralt growls and wraps his arms around his knees. “I don’t want that. I don’t need it. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know how capable you are. Probably more than most.” Jaskier lays a hand on Geralt’s shoulder, ready to remove it if need be. “But what about allowing yourself to want it? I know it’s hard, Geralt, but can you try and trust me? Even just this little bit? All you have to is say the word, Cintra, and I’ll back off. All I want to do is take care of you, tonight. That is all.”
Geralt is prepared to shake Jaskier off and get out of the tub, but he finds himself unable to move. He does want it. He wants to let go, even for just tonight. He wants to let someone else be in charge and let them take care of him.
Suddenly, it hits him, and it hits him hard. He can trust Jaskier. He’s always been able to trust Jaskier. No matter what, he’s never worried that the bard would ever betray or use him.
“Okay.”
Jaskier starts to remove his hand and he realizes what Geralt said. “Wait, really? You want to do this?”
“I do.” He leans back in the tub and closes his eyes, the admission draining him. “I don’t know why, but,” Geralt takes a deep breath. “I want this.” He opens his eyes and looks at Jaskier. “I do trust you, Jaskier. I do.” He takes another breath. “And, I will behave.”
Awed, Jaskier gives Geralt’s shoulder a squeeze. He knows how hard it is for him to give up any kind of control. “Thank you, Geralt. I promise you won’t regret this.” On a whim, he leans in and kisses the top of his head, grimacing a little at the taste of soap. “Head back again for me, darling.”
A blush spreads over Geralt’s cheeks at the endearment and he tips his head back. He’s also not sure how he feels about that kiss either, or the fact that he wants it to happen again. He decides not to think too hard on it as Jaskier rinses the soap from his hair and finger combs some of the worst tangles free.
“So very good for me,” Jaskier croons.
Geralt swallows back a moan and closes his eyes. “Jask-Jaskier.”
“Talk to me, Geralt. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he rasps. His head falls forward and he stares down into the water. “Why does it feel so good?”
“Breathe, dearest.” Geralt takes a few shuddery breaths and Jaskier watches him closely. “Good, Geralt. So good for me. You’re allowed to like it. And I like taking care of you. Is it the praise? Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” Geralt curls in on himself. “I mean,” He presses his hands against his eyes. “I like it. I like it too much.”
“Hush, darling.” Carefully perching on the edge of the tub, Jaskier encourages Geralt to lean on him. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you never received much praise in your training?” Geralt nods. “And I’ve seen how most people treat you. They may be grateful for the service you provide, but they try and get you out as fast as possible.”
It’s amazing how clearly Jaskier can see it all. Geralt turns his face into Jaskier’s stomach to hide and breathes in the unique scent of him. He knows there are lots of reasons he’s called Dandelion, but for Geralt, the main one is his scent. A light floral note accompanied by the scent of fresh ink and the wood his lute is made of. He lets out a shuddery breath and a little whine escapes his lips.
“Just as I thought. I like giving praise, Geralt. Especially when my partner is following my orders. What we’re doing here, we’re both getting something from it. I don’t know if I could describe it properly, but I get pleasure from taking care of you. So, please, do not feel ashamed of what you are feeling right now. I want you to feel that way.”
Geralt still doesn’t quite understand why Jaskier wants this, but his soft touches and firm words are undoing a lot of the knots in Geralt’s mind and body. “What now?”
“Now, my sweet Witcher?” Jaskier looks down at Geralt, still amazed at how pliant the man has become. “Now, we finish your bath. I take a look at your injuries and see what food is still in the kitchen.” His hand moves to the back of Geralt’s neck and he squeezes gently. “Would I be wrong in assuming you haven’t eaten today?”
“No.” All that is between Geralt and warm soft skin is the thin fabric of Jaskier’s chemise and Geralt currently hates that scrap of fabric. He wants to press his nose against Jaskier’s skin and breathe him in until all he can think of is him. “It’s been a couple of days. Hunting has been difficult with the werewolf out there.”
Jaskier bites his tongue to keep from cursing. “Oh, my darling. I will get you fed. You should have told me. I would have made sure you ate before bathing.”
Geralt shrugs, eyes still closed as he nuzzles at Jaskier’s stomach. “Was surprised to see you.”
“I know you were,” Jaskier chuckles. “Nothing to be done for it, now.”
“‘M sorry.” He nuzzles at Jaskier’s stomach again, another low whine escaping his lips.
Jaskier kneels next to the tub and takes Geralt’s face in his hands. “This is not something you need to apologize for, understood?” Geralt nods, eyes still not meeting Jaskier’s. “Darling, listen to me.” Geralt looks Jaskier in the eye. “I will let you know when I expect an apology, especially since I am sure there will be at least one moment later when you lash out a bit.”
“I want to be good.” Shocked by those words coming from his mouth, Geralt bites his lip. “Are you sure you haven’t done anything to me?”
“I swear it.” Jaskier’s thumb feathers over Geralt’s cheek and he smiles. “I won’t abuse this trust, dearest.”
“I know.”
Jaskier directs Geralt to lean back again and begins washing the dirt, grime, and blood from his Witcher. He pays special attention to any winces and pained noises, also checking to see if anything is still bleeding. When he’s finished, he has Geralt stand and step out of the tub. He dries him off and wraps the cloth around his waist.
“You’ve done so well for me, my darling.” Pleased when Geralt blushes, Jaskier walks him over to the fire. “Sit.” Geralt sits and Jaskier preens. “Good. I’m going to fetch some supplies and call for food. I am not leaving, so just call if you need me.”
Geralt watches Jaskier move around the room, the fire keeping him warm, the rug soft and plush under him. He can hear Jaskier ring for a maid and talk to someone, but it sounds far away and he lets himself think about other things. He is still trying to get this to all make sense in his mind, but it’s hard. Control is something Geralt holds tight to and giving it up, usually feels wrong. Giving the control to Jaskier, though, it wasn’t hard. It felt good. It felt natural. Jaskier has been a constant for Geralt for a long time.
No matter how many times they’ve separated in their travels, be it for any number of reasons, they always seem to find their way back to one another. Others would claim fate or destiny was at work, but Geralt is still uneasy with thinking that way. Whatever the reason, he wants to give in to his desires, at least for tonight.
When Jaskier comes back to where Geralt is sitting, it’s clear he’s lost in thought and Jaskier sets his supplies down before getting his attention. “Geralt? Still with me?”
“Hmm?” Geralt’s eyes focus on Jaskier and he nods. “‘M here.”
Geralt’s voice is low and thick and Jaskier is surprised by how fast he’s sunk. “Yeah. You’re here. I brought a pillow and I want you to lie down and let me take care of your wounds. Sound good?”
“Yes.” Geralt lays back and then remembers. He starts to sit up, “in my bag, my-”
“I got them.” Hand on Geralt’s chest, he pushes him back on the pillow. His fingers move over Geralt’s skin, finding his bruises and the worst of the slashes. “I even remember how to use them.”
Jaskier makes quick work of applying the salves and potions and wrapping Geralt’s wounds, pleased when none of them require stitches. He’s left the towel covering Geralt’s waist, only moving it when necessary. He can feel Geralt watching and as he wraps the last slash, he lifts Geralt’s hand and kisses his wrist.
“You did so well, dearest. I am very proud of you.”
A moan leaves Geralt’s mouth and he covers his mouth with his hand. “Jaskier, I, I…”
“It’s okay, darling.” His eyes dart down to Geralt’s waist and he grins. It’s obvious his cock has begun to fill and Geralt is feeling a little embarrassed. He lays a hand on Geralt’s stomach and looks him in the eye. “I’m a little proud that I’ve gotten this reaction from just a bath and wound care. Makes me wonder what other reactions I could get if we continued.”
Before Geralt can respond, there’s a knock at the door and Jaskier gets up to check. When he comes back, he has a platter full of food. “Sit up for me, Geralt. I want you to eat before we move to the bed.”
Carefully, and slowly, Geralt sits up. “Bed?”
“Just sleep, tonight.” He holds up a morsel of food. It smells like spiced venison and Geralt opens his mouth. Jaskier feeds Geralt with a bright smile. “I am going to try and convince you to stay at least a day or two. We can continue this, or you can simply rest and eat.” He brushes a lock of hair from Geralt’s face. “There is no wrong answer. Whatever you decide, that’s what we do.”
What Geralt wants is to lean forward and press his lips to Jaskier’s. He wants to taste him and see what Jaskier would do after. Instead, he lets himself be fed, stomach finally beginning to lose that hollowed-out feeling.
“I want to stay.” He takes a bit of cheese and sighs happily. “I want, I want you. I have for a long time. I want to do more of this. I want to give you control.”
“I want that too.” Jaskier’s voice is rough. He’s wanted to hear those words from Geralt for so long now and actually hearing them is even better than he imagined. “We’ll stay here for a few days. Feed you up and rest.”
Geralt growls. “Jaskier. That’s not wha-”
“Hush.” Geralt’s mouth shuts with a click. “Good.” He strokes Geralt’s lower lip with his thumb, enjoying the way he opens and laps at the digit. “We will both get what we want. But first, I want you well. I also want to know the things you like and don’t like and what your limits are.”
They finish off every last morsel of food and Jaskier is already making plans to be up early so he can provide Geralt with a hearty breakfast. He sets the platter aside and lets himself kiss the corner of Geralt’s mouth. A low rumble comes from Geralt’s chest and Jaskier grins.
“Proper kisses tomorrow. Ready to move to the bed?”
Geralt pouts a little and lays his head on Jaskier’s shoulder. “Yes.”
Jaskier stands and offers his hand, happy when Geralt takes it. The towel falls from his hips, but Geralt can’t find it in himself to care. Jaskier’s hand holding his is all he wants to think about. He can feel the calluses on Jaskier’s fingers from the strings of his lute and he had not realized just how large his hands were.
He is so focused on Jaskier’s hand that he doesn’t realize they’ve made it to the bed, or that Jaskier has stopped moving. He runs into his back with a huff and instead of moving away, he presses in closer, arms moving, automatically, around Jaskier.
“Geralt, what are you doing?” Geralt kisses his neck and Jaskier smiles. “My darling Witcher. What am I going to do with you.”
Geralt stays silent. He kisses Jaskier’s neck again and lets out a soft hum. “Don’t know.”
Heat spreads over Jaskier’s cheeks. He did not expect Geralt to come down quite like this, but he likes it. “Bed, Geralt. We are going to sleep. And come morning, since you have been so very good for me, I think you deserve a reward.”
The mention of a reward piques Geralt’s interest. “Reward?”
“Bed, first. And sleep,” Jaskier says, finally noticing that Geralt is naked. “Dearest? Where did your covering go?”
“Don’t know.” Geralt grins and rocks against Jaskier. "Don't care."
“Behave, Geralt.”
A low rumble comes from Geralt’s chest and he rocks his hips against Jaskier again.
“Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice drops low and he takes a step away. “Don’t think I won’t punish you.”
Geralt frowns and backs up. He's curious about what punishment could mean, but he wants his reward in the morning. “I’ll be good.”
“Thank you, darling.” Jaskier moves close again and urges Geralt to get on the bed. He strips out of his own clothes and joins him. Arms open, he smiles. “Come here, Geralt. May I hold you?”
This is new to Geralt and he hesitates before sliding a little closer. “You want to hold me?”
Jaskier’s smile gets brighter. “I do.” Geralt gets even closer and Jaskier takes his hand. “You can lay your head on my chest or I can curl up behind you. Whatever is comfortable.”
Geralt chooses to lay his head on Jaskier’s chest, arm going around his waist, pressing as much of his body as he can again him. “Can we start like this?”
“Of course.” Jaskier cards his fingers through Geralt’s hair and smiles. “So good for me, dear Witcher. Close your eyes and try and sleep.”
Geralt does close his eyes, relaxing further at the steady thump of Jaskier’s heart in his ear. “Sing to me?”
It’s on the tip of his tongue to make a quip about filling-less pie, but Jaskier manages to hold back. Instead, he begins singing a lullaby he remembers from his childhood. Geralt’s breathing evens out and Jaskier lets the song fade as he yawns. Doing his best to not jostle Geralt, he blows out the candle and closes his eyes, hoping when he wakes, Geralt will still be there.