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He does feel things.
He feels anger and hunger.
He drives all his frustration towards Jaskier because he is the only one who has not left yet. It is not fair because he should have gone a long time ago. He should have learned.
He is a kid. He only sees the world in black and white. Nothing in between, nothing but Geralt. To which he clings to too.“Why are you still here” he groans.
And he knows the answer. He just doesn’t want to hear it.
“Unlike you, I can’t live on beer.”
Unlike him, he can’t live without the other.That night, he bathes Geralt's body. He washes the blood away.
And, somehow.
He washes a bit of his soul with his singing. With his voice, light as a feather.Geralt has been cursed by an angel.
-
Water is the most devastating of all elements, Geralt thinks, as he watches the shore leaves. The waves go. Rise and fall. Always at the same pace, never-ending.
Just like them.
Rising and falling.
Breathing and not breathing.
For as long the earth will turn on itself.Water. It is the womb of both life and death. Tender but harsh, giving but also taking. Life is nothing but a give and take, he learned the hard way. No crossroads demons ever invented it. It is tempting to fear fire the most. But everyone should fear the raging ocean in their hearts, bodies, minds. Fire burn memories, live nothing but ashes. The sea shall sometimes retrieve its secrets. Sometimes.
Someones it does not. It only leaves the salty tastes of these tears he will never be able to cry.Or maybe it is music. The most heartbreaking thing. Songs that will never be heard the same way as the first time. Ephemeral heaven. Stuck in his head, that won’t let him go.
And yet, it fades, days after days. A voice that no longer exists but in the dark closets of his mind.(Sometimes a flower is just a flower, and the best thing it can do for us is to die.)
-
It fades.
It heals.
With time.
Until he meets him again.
-
It all started likes this. Taste of salt on his lips. The pace of a heart too fast to be his. A moaning mess between his hands. Only human because it feels, it breathes it cries. Too human at his taste.It’s always like that, isn’t it?
Grief.
Need.
Ale
Sex
(It happened right after their fight with Jaskier.)
He finds him in a tavern. Months after. Alone and empty. Tired. His eyes bright and hot as the sand resigned.
“So, you left the very sexy but insane witch to her inevitable demise ?”
He is not used to this. They used to all feel the same. He always aims for the same type of girl. Broken ones. As broken as he is. Broken people get together easily. They know how to keep quiet, bodies rockin’, all about pleasures of life. Money and alcohol.
But Jaskier is not broken yet.
This is why trouble beings.
He is loud. Because he hopes, because he cares, because he feels every emotion without any filter nor shame. So he tosses himself the coin to the witcher. Dirty coins that buys love and affection.“Destiny’s on vacation,” says Geralt as an answer.
So they drink and then they fuck.
It’s passionate and rough between them. They both get naked without the help of the other and jump in bed. They stare at each other and Jaskier makes the first move. He slides his hands between Geralt's thick thighs and stroke his cock gently first. He kisses his scars. He gets on top and grinds and moans. So, at some point, they change position and Geralt his opening him, kissing him, fucking him deeper and deeper. He feels the pressure of Jaskier’s inside against is own dick. It’s fire. And it burns. It makes Geralt feel out of character. Like it’s not the Witcher fucking the Bard anymore. It’s Geralt fucking Jaskier. It’s Geralt making love to Jaskier, with laughs, sights and too many feelings. Like other people do. Searching for that little spot that will drive him mad.
Jaskier would say “here we are” on the verge of tears and Geralt would say “hmm” and the sound would fade as his tongue makes Jaskier shut up in the most beautiful way.They would play all night long with their bodies and fall asleep with the twitch of a smile on their lips. Tangled together.
-
One time. Two. He lost the count at some point.
Meeting. Drinking. Chasing monsters. Being hurt. Hurting each other with words they won’t say. Singing. Drinking again. Fucking.Never catching feelings.
-
Geralt is better at breaking things.
Neck, and other shit. Sometimes laws. Only destiny refuses to bend before him. It won’t break, won’t let him go. It drives him on his knees. Reminds him that monster or human, whatever kind you are, this is just a game. If he is lucky, he worth better than a pawn. Maybe a knight. Maybe a fool.
Jaskier is just a pawn.“If I have to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all.”
“This a game of chess Geralt. Don’t tell me you’ve never played chess”
Silence.
“I play Gwent”
“Do you dance?”
“I do if asked properly”Fragile as a flower between his callous hands. Strong as the reeds. He bends too, but he refuses to break.
He bends between his deep thrusts, tho.
Eventually, he breaks. Coming all over the sheets in a white bliss, saying words he does not think.“I love you”
So he breaks his voice at night after they danced around the fire. Wolves howling in the deep forest. Jaskier gentle voice that sings pretty promises to Geralt ears until he is hoarse from screaming of pleasure. They fuck in the forest, on rivers beds, in the most beautiful places.
‘Cause Geralt is about breaking, while Jaskier is about bringing together. Maybe they could work it out. He does not roll dice on.-
They bound. Without knowing it, without realizing it. It’s natural, it’s inevitable. Sharing memories and moments of their lives when they are apart, busy with their job.
Jaskier tells him about the court. All the rich people his man makes dances with the story he tells him. How he tells the world about his Witcher.He learns to play chess. Jaskier learns to play Gwent. Jaskier always loses at chess, because he wants to save everyone while Geralt knows when to make a sacrifice.
Jaskier is a loser.
He is a lamb.
Geralt is the White Wolf and one day, he knows he is going to eat his heart out. When his cock will not be enough for his appetite.“This scar is new”
“Yeah”
“Does it hurts?”
“Hmm no”
“And this, does it hurts?”
The hand on his heart
Then, on his belly.
Then…
“Fuck”-
Geralt his not scared of death.
He’s never afraid.
Darkness became his candle. It’s in the depths of the tortured human souls that Geralt finds the strength to get himself together. It reminds him to stand tall cause he worth better.As he said. The last thing he needs is someone needing him.
But. Here is Ciri.
Here is Yen.
Here is Jaskier.You can find a hundred men that look like him. Brown hair, pale blue eyes, perfect body, catchy clothes, angel voice.
There is only one he wants.
That’s the last thing he needs.
Wishing.
Wanting.
Daydreaming about Jaskier at his sides again.
Always.-
So he lets him in. Slowly, again. Despite the noises, the complains. They ride together on Roach when the mood is sunny.
They slaughter beasts, Jaskier sings, Jaskier gets hurts.
They look at each other without saying anything, Jaskier opens his mouths and say shit until he goes quiet between Geralt lips.
It’s to perfect to last. He knows.
It gives and gives and gives and never takes it back.“You could make a change, you know?”
“I don’t take sides”
“You can’t”
“What”
“We always have to choose. And we’ll never know if we made a good choice until we know”-
They are at some boring ball when Jaskier sees the man pour the poison in the lord’s drink.
He’s a rapist.
He’s a murderer.
He can die, nobody will cry for him. But a worst monster will take his place. You can cut the head of a hydra but others will grow. Stronger. Fiercer.
Without him, awaits chaos. A jealous general that dreams about cutting off the heads or sorcerer and Witcher, homosexual, everything that doesn’t fit his perfect mold. He is about the fire. Jaskier is about the water. Life and justice and good. He fears for himself too. He smells of sweat, perfume, and regret.
“We have to do something”
But he can’t. He won’t choose. He will let the bastards bite each other.
“He kills people like us”
“I’m not like you”
There is hurt pain.
“What do you mean?”Ah
Shit.They toast when Jaskier jumps off the stage. There is fire suddenly in his eyes. it’s ugly, it burns so hard. It swallows his light.
“Don’t drink, it’s poison”
Nobody dares to breathe. When they do, they laugh.
“I can prove it” and he does. He takes the cup and drinks it.Geralt's world is collapsing, literally.
It gives.
And then it takes.-
“See, you never know”
-
“What happened”
Jaskier voice is tired. There is something big laying at his side that smells like onion.
Despair.
And heartbreak.
“You almost died, again.”