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Roach Is The Hero In This One

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When a long horrible day on the road landed them in a thunderstorm, Jaskier gave Geralt a look. 


No reaction. Well, of course not. What did he expect?


“Good thing we didn’t stop at that inn,” Jaskier said over a clap of thunder. 


Geralt didn’t say anything, his damn amber eyes staring straight ahead. 


“That nice warm inn, in the daytime. Before the rain. Before Roach threw a shoe and started limping…” Jaskier complained more. 


This time Roach was on Jaskier’s side and nudged him with her nose. 


Geralt looked at Roach and sighed. He petted his horse’s neck. “She’ll be alright,” Geralt said in his usual gravelly voice. His sexy gravelly voice. Just to think they could be at an inn in the caring company of some lovely ladies with loose morals, or perhaps even in each other’s company. But no… they had to take a ‘shortcut’ across this forsaken path. 


“Poor lady. Bet she wishes we hadn’t taken your shortcut,” Jaskier complained. He was wet to the bone, trodding through mud that was trying to suck him in with every step. When he did manage to pull his boot free, it carried another inch of mud with it until Jaskier was walking on platform shoes. 


“This is the fastest way I know to get there. People are being slaughtered, Jaskier. Stopping every afternoon so you can play for a few meager coins isn’t my priority,” Geralt said, finally coaxed into talking more, probably because he did feel guilty about Roach. 


“Few meager…!” Jaskier exclaimed. “I’ll have you know my performances are nothing short of extraordinary lately.” 


Geralt made his usual “Hnm” sort of sound. A sound that shouldn’t have been the least bit sexy, but it was. Stupid Geralt. 


Oh yes, there was no denying that Jaskier was attracted to his travel companion. It wasn’t really possible to not be attracted to him, actually. Everywhere they went, Jaskier witnessed people falling over themselves trying to get a piece of Geralt’s ass. 


As he tried to catch a look at said ass, Jaskier tumbled over into the mud -- falling face-first into a particularly wet patch. Jaskier considered just staying like that, getting up at this point would just be even more humiliating. 


A strong hand grabbed the back of his jerkin, hoisting him to his feet with another sexy grunt. 


“If you can’t handle a little mud, you shouldn’t follow me,” Geralt scolded him as he put Jaskier back on his feet. 


Jaskier wiped the mud off his face. “Yeah, right. But at this point, I don’t have an option since I don’t know where the bloody hell I am!” His voice rose to a shrill cry. 


“Just up ahead is a barn. We’ll stay there tonight,” Geralt said. 


Normally, a night in a barn was one of Jaskier’s low nights. But right now it sounded like heaven. He looked around but couldn’t see anything in the dark. The few flashes of lightning just dazzled his eyes instead of helping illuminate the area. Though, he’d learned Geralt had a nose like no other, he could probably smell a barn from here. 


“A barn. How lovely.” Jaskier sighed as he kept walking. The rain rinsed him pretty well, thankfully, but his clothes were probably ruined. 


“It’s for Roach,” Geralt said gruffly. Though everything he said was gruff. “If it was just us, I’d walk all night.” 


Jaskier looked at him, wondering if the White Wolf was actually teasing him. 


“Then I’ll make Roach the hero in my next story.” Jaskier chuckled a little, feeling a chill setting in. He shuddered and sneezed. 


Geralt gave him a look and picked up the pace to the barn. “You and Roach go in. I’ll tell the owners were here,” he said. 


Jaskier took Roach’s reigns and opened the barn. He clicked to the horse and led her inside. It was warmer in here thankfully, as well as blissfully dry. Though it was darker than anything. He slung off his pack, trying to find by memory where his flint was to start a fire. 


He fumbled in the dark, Roach nudging him several times. 


“I know you probably want food or water or something. But unlike your owner, I can’t see in the dark,” Jaskier tried to explain as the horse nudged him even more. 


The barn opened again, Geralt illuminated by lightning was probably one of the more majestic things Jaskier had ever seen. However, the effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that Geralt didn’t look any happier to be soaking wet than Jaskier did. 


“You’re going to light your bag on fire if you keep fumbling with that,” Geralt said dismissively as he shut the door. 


“Did you find the owner?” Jaskier asked, giving up on his task. 


“Yes,” Geralt said simply, as usual, he didn’t choose to elucidate further. 


Thankfully Geralt found and lit a torch that must have been left in the barn. Jaskier helped unhook Roach’s bridle while Geralt took off her saddle. Once the horse felt free she went and helped herself to the water trough. 


Jaskier stripped out of his wet clothes with a shiver, laying them out in the hopes they’d be a little dryer by tomorrow. While he stripped down, he watched Geralt rub his horse down with a rag, lovingly stroking the chestnut hide. There was a tenderness in his actions, something he didn’t have often at all. It was nice to just watch those strong killing hands be used for such a gentle task. 


Geralt didn’t say anything about being watched, but he did make more little noises of annoyance and turned away from Jaskier. 


Jaskier laughed and with only his boots on, he climbed the ladder to sleep up in the hayloft. He sighed unhappily. Hay always seemed like a nice place to sleep, but it was pokey and sticky and scratchy and… He sighed. Better than the rain at least. He shivered as he laid down until his skin dried off he was going to be freezing.


“Here.” A blanket was thrown up into the loft from below, thrown by the mighty arm of The Witcher. 


Jaskier hugged the blanket to himself. It smelled strongly of horse and was a little damp, but it was probably the most lovely thing he’d ever held. At least in a day. 


He spread it over the hay, then laid out on it with a happy sigh. The hay wasn’t poking him in tender places anymore and he could feel the warmth of Roach still, so he felt worlds better. He rubbed some of the crusty mud off his skin and stretched out comfortably, closing his eyes. 


“You’re supposed to cover yourself with the blanket, not lay on it.” 


Jaskier awoke to Geralt lightly kicking his boots and giving that disapproving tone. 


“The hay pokes. It’s better this way, trust me,” Jaskier said, rolling to one side to share space. 


Geralt had moved the torch up here so Jaskier could see very, very clearly that Geralt was also wonderfully naked except for his boots. Was there anything more arousing than the sight of the White Wolf in all his natural glory? Probably not. 


Geralt made his grunting sound again and looked down at the space Jaskier had made for him. Then his unearthly eyes looked at Jaskier. Jaskier’s breath caught, feeling a very welcome rush of arousal without Geralt saying a word.


They sometimes did this together, had sex. (Three cheers for bisexuality and a fear of commitment). It was usually when they were without other options, such as tonight. Not because they didn’t like doing it together, but because neither of them wanted it to become a habit. 


Despite being free from human emotions, the Witcher very much had human desires. Jaskier had been surprised to learn that they had similar tastes, and he was more than happy to indulge with his rugged traveling partner. 


Only lately… it hadn’t been just about indulging in their passions. Jaskier was getting seriously hooked on this Witcher. And that would only lead to trouble. But he couldn’t help himself. 


And part of getting hooked was watching the way that Geralt’s eyes looked at him, the way his full lips curled up at the edges, the little crinkles around his eyes. Well… this would certainly be a nice way to warm up.


Jaskier smiled and sat up, finally kicking off his boots. Geralt watched him wordlessly while Jaskier got on his knees in front of him. 


Licking his lips, Jaskier smiled and put a hand on Geralt’s hip and locked eyes with him. His free hand tantalizingly roamed over Geralt’s exceptional manhood. The Witcher made a grunt of approval, and Jaskier winked at him before breaking their gaze. He ran his tongue over Geralt’s length, earning a few more half impressed sounds from his partner. 


Geralt had a decided lack of interest in long foreplay or teasing, at least for the first round. Only when he closed his lips around Geralt’s tip and started sucking, did Geralt finally seem interested, putting his hand in Jaskier’s hair and giving it a playful tug.  


Jaskier groaned in appreciation and started bobbing his head, taking in more and more. It had taken a fair amount of training to be able to take his girth, but he had finally learned the way to do it, sliding down all the way to Geralt’s base. 


The Witcher grabbed a fistful of Jaskier’s damp hair, moaning in appreciation. Everything else faded away, the storm outside, the horses below them, until all that was left was the taste and feeling of Geralt. 


Geralt held perfectly still otherwise, letting Jaskier bob his head to his heart’s content. He neither pulled Jaskier in for more nor held him off, kept his hips still despite the probable urge to move them. The man had a will of iron. And it was so much fun to watch that iron finally give way.  


The more Jaskier moved the more sound Geralt made, his normal ‘mhm’s turning into low groans and moans. 


“Jaskier…” Geralt said his name in an extra husky voice and Jaskier shivered. 


He looked back up at him and swirled his tongue around Geralt. Geralt looked down at him with his intense eyes. 


“Finally a good use for your mouth.” Geralt smirked. 


Jaskier gasped around the enormous dick in his mouth and pulled off him. “Oh, that was just mean.” 


Geralt groaned when Jaskier stopped. “And funny.” He smiled. 


Jaskier frowned at him. “You can just finish yourself off then, you lout.” He sulked. Pretty brave words when Jaskier was half hard just from sucking Geralt. 


Geralt made one of his trademark ‘mhm’s’, clearly not fooled. He crouched down, his boots creaking, his hand still in Jaskier’s hair, holding him still. 


He pressed his lips to Jaskier’s, kissing him hungrily. Jaskier tried to hold out as long as he could, not letting him win this one. But as they say, the flesh is weak. And Jaskier’s flesh happened to be weaker than most. (Hence being a bard). Sooner than later he was moaning against Geralt’s mouth, tasting his tongue and putting his arms around his neck. 


The White Wolf made a sound of approval, kissing him even more intently. Jaskier ran his hands through the long white hair, feeling the strength in those broad shoulders. His body was gradually catching on fire, feeling the need to be closer to this man, feel his weight bearing down on him. 


Evidently, Geralt felt the same way because he pushed Jaskier back, shoving him down on the blanket. Jaskier whimpered when he was torn away from Geralt’s mouth. Then he put his hand over his mouth, blushing to think he was so desperate. But Geralt smiled smugly at him, he had heard the sound and based on his expression, he wasn’t about to let him live it down.


“Shut up,” Jaskier said to Geralt. 


Geralt chuckled softly and pulled out a vial from the top of his boot. He moved from his crouching position, putting one knee between Jaskier’s legs, forcing them to spread bit by bit. Jaskier’s heart pounded as Geralt came closer. Pretending he didn’t want it at this point was silly, so Jaskier let him slowly spread him open until he was fully exposed. 


The scent of juniper berries filled his senses when the bottle was opened, and sad to say, but just the smell alone now made Jaskier’s thighs tremble in anticipation. It was the last straw for Jaskier, he couldn’t wait anymore and he gave an impatient roll of his hips.  


Geralt’s keen eyes and senses didn’t miss a thing, he smirked at Jaskier and picked up one of Jaskier’s legs by the back of the knee.


He moved it back and up toward Jaskier. “Hold this for me,” he said. Jaskier could only describe Geralt’s tone as playful, even though the Witcher probably would deny that. 


Whatever Geralt’s intention, Jaskier happily took his leg. “Hurry,” he said breathily. Pride be damned. He wanted this too badly now to pretend. 


Geralt poured the clear lubricant over his fingers before flipping the stopper back on the bottle and putting it back in his boot. He nodded to Jaskier. “I know.” 


Straightforward man that he was there was no slow tease, he went straight for where they both wanted it. Geralt thrust two fingers into Jaskier, knowing his body well enough by now to know he’d take two without issue. Even so, Jaskier’s spine arched as he felt the sudden invasion. 


Those strong and capable fingers had no trouble at all finding that spot that sent Jaskier to the edge of bliss. Geralt leaned over him at last, kissing and biting Jaskier’s neck while he fingered him. Jaskier rocked his hips, eager to help Geralt as always. 


A third finger made its way into Jaskier, making him moan wantonly. The more often they did this, the more Jaskier’s body became hooked on doing it with Geralt. It was probably a bad habit but he did not care a bit about that right now. 


He let go of the leg he’d been holding for Geralt and wrapped it around Geralt’s sturdy waist. 


Geralt groaned. The shift meant that his hard length rubbed against Jaskier’s. Jaskier felt Geralt bite him hard one last time, making Jaskier jump and whimper in a little alarm. 


Geralt got the message and withdrew his fingers from Jaskier’s body, lining up his cock and spreading the last of the scented lubricant over himself. 


They locked gazes again, Jaskier already panting for breath and Geralt with wet lips. Jaskier lifted his head to kiss him again as Geralt joined their bodies. 


Geralt thrust into him with one long smooth thrust, making them both groan in mutual pleasure and appreciation. Bits of hay began to poke through the blanket as Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s hips and began pounding into him, but at this point, Jaskier didn’t care. 


“Oh, yes… Fuck, Geralt!” Jaskier cried out against his shoulder, biting into his scarred flesh. 


Geralt groaned, making less effusive sounds of pleasure but Jaskier didn’t mind, he had been with Geralt long enough to know when he’s having a good time. 


He moaned happily and freely ran his nails over Geralt’s back and ass, scratching him. Jaskier tried to rock up to meet Geralt’s thrusts, but the way Geralt held him left no doubt that this was not going to be possible. For the moment Jaskier belonged to Geralt, pounding him noisily in the hayloft, owning his pleasure. 


Jaskier threw his head back and cried out with nearly every thrust, lost in the pleasure an amazing lover can bring. 


“Geralt…I won’t last...” he moaned, sucking Geralt’s earlobe into his mouth and whimpering around it. 


“You can’t finish that quickly on me, bard,” Geralt teased, pulling away. 


Jaskier moaned sadly, scraping the earlobe with his teeth as it was pulled out. Geralt skillfully shifted Jaskier around, tossing him over like a ragdoll onto his stomach. 


Jaskier made needy sounds until Geralt started thrusting again, the new position offering him more ability to really pound into Jaskier’s poor ass. 


Geralt’s boot was near Jaskier’s head and he grabbed onto it, needing some kind of lifeline even while his body gladly welcomed such assault. 


“Geralt!” he warned him, seeing stars beginning to dance across his vision. There was no way he could last. 


Geralt’s callused hand reached down and grabbed the base of Jaskier’s cock, holding it tightly. “I said not yet,” Geralt’s rough voice commanded. 


“Damn you…” Jaskier moaned. “Come on.” It wasn’t the first time they’d done something like this. Apparently, Witchers had mutant stamina in every way. 


After a moment Geralt let go and started thrusting again, but Jaskier was on the edge once more in no time. His thighs trembled, if Geralt hadn’t been holding his hips he’d probably have already melted onto the blanket.  


He couldn’t warn Geralt when he felt himself building to orgasm again. One minute Jaskier was there and the next his vision had turned white and all he could feel was continuing wave after wave of pleasure. 


Geralt cursed and thrust into him one more time. That kind of curse he usually reserved for climax, which was why Jaskier looked over his shoulder just in time to see Geralt throwing his head back, lips parted around a silent scream, and then he was coming, filling Jaskier with spurt after spurt of his semen until he moaned all over again. 


Jaskier would never admit to passing out, but he pretty much did after that. The next thing he knew he was lying on the blanket, curled on his side with Geralt behind him. 


He sighed happily and turned his head around to look at Geralt. 


“You passed out,” Geralt said, smirking and looking far too pleased with himself. 


Jaskier blushed. “And you are spooning me.” It was unusual, but not unwelcome. Except for the small flutter of his heart that shouldn’t be happening. 


“It’s cold.” Geralt closed his eyes. Subject closed, he clearly wouldn’t be saying more. 


“At least put your arm around me.” Jaskier smiled a little and turned back around. 


He had to wait a little while, but eventually, he did feel Geralt snake an arm around him and held him closer. 

The morning came without rain, thankfully. Jaskier sighed as the light of dawn woke him from a missing thatch in the roof on the far side of the barn. 


Sadly, when he woke Geralt was gone. Even more sadly, Jaskier highly doubted he would be walking anywhere today. Even sitting on his ass felt uncomfortable. Damn that Witcher.


He sighed and, as if summoned by his thoughts, Geralt climbed up the ladder. 


“Roach pulled a muscle after all. And in all that mud, she can’t walk without risking doing it again. We’re going to be stuck here a while yet,” Geralt said, setting down a basket filled with what smelled like fresh bread. 


“Well, I’ll need a bath if I’m going to stay. And fresh clothes,” Jaskier said, lying back down with a happy sigh, glad he didn’t have to get up and chase after Geralt today. 


“A bath is being arranged. But clothes?” Geralt looked Jaskier over. “You’ll be fine like that for now.” He shrugged and pulled out the food in the basket.


Jaskier laughed and looked up at him. “Geralt, are you implying you’re going to keep me here like some kind of love slave until Roach is better? Because that’s weird.” Definitely weird. Mostly weird how Jaskier actually liked the idea. 


Geralt just gave one of his customary grunts and tore into the loaf of bread. “Eat your breakfast, Jaskier.”. 


Jaskier noticed how he didn’t deny it one bit.  


Below them, Roach snorted. It was going to be a long few days...