Toss a Coin to Your Witcher (Completed)

Loving

But there it was. Loving. Tender. Hot. 
Their lips moved in sync, tongues dancing for dominance, tasting every inch of each other. Jaskier was left breathless.
He barely felt the hands along his skin, the fingers running in circles over his back and hips. He wound one hand into Geralt's hair and pressed the other his chest, feeling the twitch of muscles under his touch. He was so completely lost that he didn't even notice the tip of Geralt's cock press impatiently into his ass, or the hiss that escaped his own lips as it broke past his rim and buried deep into him. Geralt's lips left his suddenly and latched onto his neck, he tipped his head back and moaned low in his throat, whole body feeling light and heavy, hot and cold. He noticed the cock in his ass only when his Witcher rocked hard into him, and then the pleasure was immense. Teeth grazed the flesh on his neck, fingers caressed his spine, his felt the tears coming to his eyes and pressed them back desperately. It was too much, the tenderness with which Geralt held and touched him, the heat that bubbled between them, the shivers of pleasure rocketing up his body from Geralt's slow rocks. He choked on tears and his heart clenched as Geralt's golden eyes met his, worry creasing his brow. 
"Don't stop. Please..." He practically begged, feeling tears trickle down his cheeks but blinking them away and locking his ankles in the small of Geralt's back as if to point out that he was not letting him pull out. "God, don't stop."
Geralt nodded, starting up his movements again, arms wrapping securely around his Bard, pulling him as close as they could get, heartbeat to heartbeat. Jaskier leant his forehead on the Witcher's shoulder and let the tears fall from his eyes and the moans from his mouth, arms sliding around him in an embrace. Geralt had never understood the range and complexity of human emotions, sure he felt love and hate, rage and desire, sorrow and joy, but they were so binary in his mind. He knew Jaskier was more complicated, but he'd not understood just how. Still, he clung on tight and moaned with obvious abandon, so Geralt tried not to worry; he was sure they weren't tears of Joy, he wasn't that good. 
He rocked into the tight heat of Jaskier and revelled in the feeling of their bodies so close, so connected, everywhere they touched seemed to send warmth spreading through him. That was it, he realised suddenly, Jaskier had spent all his life running from adventure to adventure, running from his noble heritage, running towards something unknown, and this was it. The unknown was love. As much as he could try and deny what he felt, Geralt knew that the way he held his Bard, the way their heartbeats synced up, the way even the things that annoyed him about Jaskier had become familiar and sweet, meant more than lust. More than affection. And the thought was terrifying, but Jaskier felt it too, and more so with that open heart of his.
Geralt loosened his grip on Jaskier so that he could tilt his face up and look into his blue eyes, wet with tears. 
"I feel it too, Jas. You're not alone, you can have all of me." He kissed the swollen lips of his lover and rocked up into him with a hitch of breath and a groan. Jaskier's eyes went wide.
"I love you." He gasped, shocked with his own bravery.
Geralt hummed in response, he couldn't make himself say it back, but he prayed his tone might give it away. He prayed Jaskier would be able to hear what he meant; i love you too. And he did know, Geralt could feel it in the relaxing of his tense shoulders and the happy sigh that escaped his lips. Jaskier understood.
Geralt was close, he could feel the heat pooling in his gut. He wasn't going to cum in the fucking comunal bath, he'd never hear the end of it from his brothers, Vesemir would have a field day. He once again wrapped Jaskier up in his arms but this time easily carried him to the stone steps and out of the bath to the wooden bench. The bard was too distracted to care much about the move, he was close too, and desperately trying to grind down on Geralt's cock shamelessly. The Witcher leant Jaskier down on table, pushing aside their clothes. It was varnished and smooth under the Bard's back, he tugged Geralt down onto him. Propped up on his elbows, Geralt thrust slowly into Jaskier again and again, feeling fingers drag along his back and grip at his shoulders - evidently Jaskier had forgotten about the wound - and the small spark of pain that it caused only turned Geralt on, making him bite down on the Bard's neck and groan into the skin. Jaskier eyes rolled back in his head, he tensed and arched up, moaning loud and low, and clenching around Geralt as he came. Two more thrusts saw Geralt doing the same, and groaning through a tight jaw and clenched teeth. He leant over Jaskier still, their foreheads leant together as they breathed hard and erratically. He caught the Bard's lips in a brief kiss and whispered;
"If Lambert asks, we just bathed."
Jaskier burst out laughing and kissed Geralt's cheek. "Ah sweetie, that might be too far out of the realm of believability." He'd only meant the name as a joke, but he made a mental note of Geralt not stopping him or bringing him up on it. He might have to test out some others.