Geralt wasn’t one to pout. But when Jaskier didn’t immediately pick up on the salaciously sized breadcrumbs he was laying out for him, the witcher’s lips jutted out sulkily. He’d already spent the last few hours pushing himself as much as possible into the bard’s space. Moving in front of him, his backside ‘accidentally’ bumping into Jaskier’s front as he would reach for something that was absolutely necessary to whatever it was he was doing.
Was he going to have to spell it out?
Finally something seemed to click inside that clever bard’s head. He was turning his focus back on him again and to try and keep it, Geralt leaned in and nipped him on the nose. “I take my pantry selection very seriously. I would never joke on such a meaty matter.” The tug, weak as it was, had his eyes flashing dark and his stomach knotting in pleasantly hot ways. He let it pull him, though it wouldn’t take much to bring him in closer. Even with the colored-in goatee, his boyfriend’s mouth was an easy find. “I’m sure you’ll be able to keep me down. But I won’t promise to stay still,” he murmured before wrapping his lips with Jaskier’s.
As he pulled away after the kiss, he noticed the weird taste immediately from the marker. The second thing he noticed was that he had accidentally smeared a little of the ink over Jaskier’s mouth. “Woops.” Geralt lifted his hand to his own mouth and tested to see if there was ink smudged there as well. “Your extra kisses might have to also wait until after dinner, darling.”