Toss a Coin to Your Witcher (Completed)

Yet Here We Are

After Jaskier had washed himself clean, the two made their way back to the camp somehow, their legs wobbly but chins high and heads still ringing with the aftershock of their orgasms. Jaskier noticed how the pain in his ass was less this time - he would get used to eventually, but there was still a stinging. He dumped the pile of clothes by the fire and hung his wet shirt over a tree, trousers back on but chest exposed to the cool wind that had started whipping across the mound. Geralt remained shirtless too, but of course he wouldn't be cold, he was a Witcher. 
Geralt had laid himself down on a blanket spread on a cropping of grass so that it was soft under his back, he watched the Bard with a sly half-smile. Jaskier noticed him staring and waggled his ass with a laugh. 
"You're a fucking child Jaskier." The bard turned around with a fake pout. Done with his task, he now walked over to Geralt and dropped beside him without asking, leaning back on his elbows beside the Witcher. 
"That's why you love me." He said lightly, eyes fixed on the starry night. Geralt grunted in argument. "I'm joking, don't fret your big ol' head about it."
"You're cold." The Witcher said simply, extending an arm and walking his fingers up Jaskier's spine, stopping at his neck and rubbing his thumb over the red marks there. He felt oddly possessive of him now, as if he'd marked the Bard as his now and anyone with eyes for him would be actively challenging his ownership.
"Meh." Jaskier shrugged. Geralt pulled him back onto the blanket, his arm under the Bard's head as a pillow, heat rolling off his body. "What's this? The Witcher snuggles?" He laughed. Geralt glared at him.
"If you want to get Pneumonia that's fine with me." He shrugged and started retracted his arm. Jaksier slapped him in the bicep and pillowed his head on the Witcher's shoulder, hesitantly draping his arm over the scarred chest.
"You're a grumpy fucker you know?" He sighed, though there was no real anger or annoyance behind his words, he was too content to be angry. Geralt didn't respond, but he curled his arm around Jaskier and breathed in deep. "How'd you get that one?" The bard asked, fingertips skating over a livid scar on the Witcher's ribs.
"Selkie." He grumbled, closing his eyes and letting Jaskier's gentle touch lull him into a half-sleep. He could hear the Bard mumbling something, but didn't try and focus on the words, only slipped away into the welcoming darkness of sleep, feeling Jaskier's chest rise and fall against him. Jaskier glanced up to see the Witcher's eyes drooping and began to hum, it was a sad song, one without words but full of meaning, and he sang Geralt to sleep with it, his hand resting over the slow rhythm of a Witcher's heart.

Jaskier was half expecting the Witcher to have snuck off before morning so that he would be cold and alone, but as the sun rose and he cracked his eyes open, there he was. In his sleep he looked almost peaceful, no scowl twisting his lips or glare in his eyes, hair tangled around his face and breath even. Jaskier watched him for some time, waiting for the sun breaking over the horizon wake him. He couldn't make himself do it. Geralt opened one eye.
"You're staring."
"You would be if you were me." Jaskier sighed, laying his head back down on Geralt's chest.
"What are you talking about Bard?" He grumbled and Jaskier could imagine his eyes narrowing into a confused glare.
"It's nothing." Geralt's hand came up under his chin and forced the Bard to look at him. He was glaring. "Well it's just that- i just keep expecting it not to be real. I mean, look at you, you could have any woman you chose, you're a warrior and a loner, and yet... here we are."
Jaskier might have imagined it, but he though Geralt's face softened a little. His tone was just as grumpy as usual though. "Yes here we are. I didn't exactly chose this, you forced your way into my life with your fucking stupid songs and your tight ass. And I couldn't care less if your a man, it's no-body's business who I fuck, but I wouldn't care if they knew. Since when have I been concerned with the opinions of others?"
"Whatever this is, it's not perfect, but I don't want it to stop." Jaskier said suddenly. Geralt's breath hitched and Jaskier sat up, climbing over the narrowing hips of the Witcher - he was a perfect shape, broad shoulders and built like an ox with the hips and ass of a whore, Jaskier had noticed it the first time they met - so that he straddled his 'friend'.
Geralt didn't say anything, but he felt his trousers tighten with the growing boner he had, he repressed the urge to pull the Bard down and kiss him breathless, muttering about how he didn't want it to end either, that he had finally found someone who understood him, someone who's childish glee made him feel light. But instead he grabbed the Bard's waist and rolled them over so that two strong legs wrapped around him and his hair fell like a curtain around their faces. Jaskier's heart was beating a million miles an hour, the Witcher could hear it, and smell the arousal on him too.
"I have ghouls to kill." He said, lips latching onto the red marks on the Bard's neck until he elicited a pleased gasp. "Stop distracting me."
Ignoring the ache of his boner and the flush spreading across Jaskier's face, he pulled away and stood up, fetching the Bard's shirt - now dry - and tossing it to him. Jaskier regarded the bulge in Geralts breeches with a grin and stood up too, folding up the blankets and putting on his shirt.