Geralt had never been one to spin words into sonnets or feelings into music but there was something poetic in the way Jaskier was looking up at him. As if nothing else mattered. It was intoxicating, that clear admiration on the bard's face, and he drank it all up. Jaskier stood up and Geralt nearly let his own knees bend, wanting to fall between Jaskier's legs and make him sing like a high-class harlot.
Except he'd already given Jaskier an order and the brunette had obeyed so quickly, it barely gave time Geralt to do a bit of admiring himself. Jaskier's form was smaller than his but he was by no means small. From shoulder to cock, there was plenty to roam his eyes over. He truly could spend hours appreciating every part of him. How had he been able to resist him all day?
He bit his cheek and groaned through clenched teeth when that pale ass bounced back into him. Immediately, he fell forward, his chest sliding into Jaskier's back as his cock slid between his cheeks in one swift motion. But he wouldn't push himself inside. Not yet.
His hands reached around, pawing everywhere. Fingers scraped through the dark curls at the top of his chest, entangling themselves in. With his other hand, he curled it softly around Jaskier's eager and leaking erection. Softly, at first. It felt a shame that he hadn't had the time to mark up the other man like he would have wanted to. Geralt tried to make up for the lack of affection he'd shown through the day but spreading it now, kissing at Jaskier's shoulder and neck rough enough to leave bruises later. It wasn't long before bright red marks started to show up under the water.