teeth

Oneshot

Geralt was dozing off, blinking slowly as he watched the fire. By his side, resting against the same tree stump as Geralt, Jaskier softly strummed on his lute, mumbling something that, to Geralt's sleep-addled brain, sounded like words, if they were heard underwater: distant and vaguely human.

Yawning, deciding it was maybe time to fall asleep, Jaskier left out a yelp when he glanced.

"Geralt!" Jaskier hissed, and like a lazy cat, Geralt cocked his head, looking at his bard. "What are those? In your mouth? They seem new."

Geralt blinked again. What was Jaskier going on about? Had he never glanced at his mouth?

"I've always had fangs." He replied, and Jaskier seemed baffled. "It's not a new development."

"Yes it is, I never saw those before!" He abandoned his lute momentarily, leaning in closer to Geralt. His eyes shone, a million stars glinting there, and Geralt was curious. What was so special about his fangs that made Jaskier be like that? "Oh, oh my. These sure are something."

"They are normal. Every Witcher has those." Well, not as big as his, sure, but hey. Jaskier probably had never seen another Witcher so up close. Probably. Chuckling, Geralt leaned in. "Why, do you want a better look?"

Jaskier moved closer, nodding fervently. Geralt, raising an eyebrow, opened his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, Geralt saw Jaskier clean his hand on his doublet, which was a weird relief before he felt Jaskier's fingers on his lips, pressing gently, his body straddling Geralt's, close enough that he could feel the bard's body heat, even through the layer of clothing. Geralt put his hands on Jaskier's hips, steadying the other man.

"Open wide, I can't -" He obeyed the suggestion, stretching his mouth as open as possible. "Oh, you have bottom fangs too? You can't see them when you have your mouth closed at all."

Geralt couldn't exactly answer, startled when he felt Jaskier's finger gently touch his upper fangs, as if they were made of precious porcelain, Geralt's skin prickling up at the touch. With his other hand, Jaskier massaged Geralt's tongue, caressing as if it were a lover's cock or something, and heat started pooling itself in Geralt's loins. This was not going to end well for him or for Jaskier.

After touching his tongue, Jaskier gently fingered the soft membrane of the inside of his mouth, taking off one of his hands from Geralt's mouth to push away a strand of white hair away from his face, still touching the membrane softly, like it was precious, and Geralt's breath hitched. Jaskier's touch seemed too hot against his skin, and he nuzzled his head against the bard's hand without noticing, trying to burn himself.

"Oh?" Jaskier purred, smirking knowingly, and Geralt could feel his face heating. His hand abandoned Geralt's face, and went back to his teeth, his finger (was that a callus he felt, from playing the lute so much?) going gently over the surface of his lower teeth, making the semi-circle in one, continuous motion that was making his cock grow hard. Geralt softly nibbled on his finger, and Jaskier chuckled. "Don't tell me you like this, Geralt?"

Geralt wanted to reply, but there was a hand inside his mouth, and he spluttered syllables that might've been words. He could've used his hands, pinned Jaskier to the ground and fucked him like an animal, but he didn't want to.

"Who would've thought that you liked to have your teeth touched, Geralt." Jaskier continued, abandoning Geralt's mouth, hands going to his face. The wetness on Jaskier's fingers wasn't unpleasant against the skin of his face. "Come on now, Geralt. What do you want?"

"You." He replied, and Jaskier kissed him like the world depended on it, digging his short nails onto his face, possessive. To Geralt, in that moment, nothing else mattered, kissing his bard back.