Toss a Coin to Your Witcher (Completed)

On the Road Again

"Please! I can pay!" Shouted the farmer, this stopped Geralt in his tracks. Jaskier rolled his eyes. Here we go again, he thought. The bard was determined to at least get him a good deal.
"Look, if he's traipsing to the top of the mountain and you expect him to take out a den of ghouls, then you better be paying for the provisions to last us - him - the journey." The farmer, Jaskier thought he'd said his name was Sathbek, looked confused for a moment, but then nodded and listed off his price. 
"I'll give you half now for the journey and the other half when you show me proof." He said. Geralt took the pouch that was offered with a grunt, and turned his back on Sathbek. 
"Come on Bard." He grumbled, and Jaskier's mind went straight back to that night they'd spent together, and how his voice had managed to drop even lower, sounding devilish. It sent a shiver up his spine and he looked away before Geralt could see him flush.
It had been 3 days now, and though the pain had disappeared, the scratches that marked Geralt's back were still there as a reminder - he'd watched them with fascination while his Witcher had changed every evening. They had shared a room every night since, two beds to avoid questions, and nothing had cropped up between them since. Not that it was uncomfortable though, it was just... normal? Jaskier had gone back to his teasing ways now that they'd settled back into routine, and Geralt was certainly just as broody.
They collected Roach and packed her back with anything they might need, and set off down the mountain road. They passed through the town and left it a fair ways behind them before Jaskier started complaining.
"God, I know this walking does wonders for my physique but it's fucking work." He chuckled, kicking gravel as he walked. This was pretty regular for Jaskier, he always complained, it never got him anywhere. Except-
"Stop whining." Geralt said, thrusting out a hand to his friend. The bard's gaze flicked between the proffered hand and the Witcher's scowl. He took it very hesitantly, his the gloved fingers grazing his wrist. In one swift move, the Witcher swung him up into the horses back. Now, Jaskier knew what he wanted to do and that was wrap his arms snug around the wall of muscle and lean gently on his back, but he also knew that this would lead to him being abruptly tossed off the animal. He resisted his urges and instead turned around, his back to the Witcher, and leant back onto him, balancing on the back end of the saddle. Geralt tensed for a moment, but just as Jaskier began to panic, he relaxed again and set the horse off at a trot. 
"A song for the road!" Jaskier grinned, getting ahead of himself as the glee from the current situation got to his head. He plucked at his lute, and despite Geralt's very audible grumble, the set of his shoulders didn't change; he remained calm.
So that was how they rode on, Jaskier humming out his songs and Geralt silently leading the horse, back to back, the Witcher finding strange warmth and comfort in it. It helped that the Bard could not see his face, so he allowed himself to smile, a real one - it was rare and unpractised for him, but he nailed it. 

It was dark by the time they reached the mountain top - far enough from the cemetery and the Ghouls to stop for the night in safety - where the trees were bare and the river was ice cold. Jaskier braved the freezing water for the sake of his hygiene, but Geralt busied himself instead with building up a fire and tethering Roach nearby. Stripped down to his waist, the Bard splashed the water over himself and rinsed his shirt, wringing it out as the Witcher appeared behind him.
"You may be content to stink, but I have higher standards." He joked, not turning around. Geralt was silent. What Jaskier didn't know was that his friend was watching him with intrigue, golden eyes skating over his pale skin where the moonlight hit it and turned it almost silver, desire building in the pit of his stomach. It was strange, the Witcher thought, that Jaskier was not really his type - being that they were usually lithe women with an ass for miles and huge tits - but the thought of touching him and seeing that shocked and aroused smile on his face, made his dick twitch. Without thinking on it too much, because that ran the risk of him changing his mind, he tugged his gloves off and ran fingertips down the Bard's spine. 
Fuck. This is happening. Thought Jaskier as shudder ran through him and his grip on the shirt in his hands tightened. He waited for Geralt to make the next move, ducking his head slightly as he felt the man's breath on his neck. As if it was an invite, the Witcher's teeth grazed over his neck, tongue slipping out to tease at the spot he'd discovered was the Bard's weakness; it worked, Jaskier's legs almost gave out under him.