Chapped lips graze his neck, down to his collarbones, across his shoulders- a trail of dry kisses on his skin. The sheets rustle as the warm body next to him moves and a hand slides over his hip to his back. Rough fingers - only in texture, never, ever in touch - gently draw circles over his lower back. What a lovely feeling to wake to. Jaskier breathes deep, burying his cheek into the itchy pillow beneath his head. He wills his eyes to stay shut, lest Geralt shy away the moment Jaskier truly wakes. A hand moves to his cheek; knuckles caress his jaw, a thumb brushes the corner of his eye, and with his heartbeat elevating, his eyes open of their own accord. And what a damn sight he's greeted with. Geralt, features softened from the morning light and how relaxed he is. His tousled hair is splayed on the pillow, falling in his face. Jaskier's always had this urge to touch Geralt's hair, brush it behind his ear, and he has; for years, he has, so unable to resist the urge, his fingers always itching to reach out. Geralt's never minded, and he definitely doesn't mind now. Judging by the way his eyes fall shut and he leans into it, leans into Jaskier, he doesn't mind at all. A small, sweet, and kind smile - one that Jaskier has only seen a child's handful of times - tugs at Geralt's mouth.
And what else to do, but kiss it?
Geralt hums, rumbling in deep in his chest.
"G'mornin'," Jaskier mumbles before Geralt steals another kiss. It makes his heart stutter and melt all at once.
"You're very affectionate this morning... And pretty, by the Gods, you are gorgeous."
Geralt hums, and shifts, uncomfortable, his head tilted against the pillow. Jaskier cups his cheek and rubs his thumb over his cheekbone. "You are," Jaskier assures him, "You're quite a sight."
Again, Geralt hums, this time sounding more pleased. "You're wonderful," Jaskier adds with a toothy smile and an enthusiastic smooch to Geralt's brow.
"Hm," Geralt rumbles with a smile. It makes Jaskier grin and kiss Geralt's forehead.
"My wonderful witcher," He muses, nose at Geralt's temple and his hands in his hair. Geralt noses at Jaskier's neck and takes a deep breath. He must smell like sweat and sex, but Geralt only nuzzles deeper. He doesn't think he'll ever understand the appeal, but if it makes Geralt happy (and horny), Jaskier's not about to discourage it. "Smell nice, do I?" He asks, lips brushing Geralt's hairline.
"We really should be getting up. Your noonwraith should be up soon," He says, noticing how the light has shifted since he first awoke. "Geralt?"
He's breathing deep and slow, his breath puffing against Jaskier's skin. "Alright then... a few more minutes can't hurt, I suppose...."