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discopiratetanis · 5 years ago

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Prompt: 2. I might have slept with your cloak when you were gone.

Words: 1572

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We're back to fluff! This is for @hatsanha and @ghosttin (who also wanted a number 6, so if you want I can tag you on the number 6 I'll write in the future? 🤔) Except for two or three requests, the rest are repeated so I'll tag two or more users on their respective prompts from this moment 🙏

I hope you like it! ❤❤✨✨

The crescent moon was high in the sky, clawing it as if it was a slim and bright scar. The breeze, fresh with the song of autumn, blew softly from the west. It wasn't cold, but it would be in a few weeks when the winter breaks on the Continent and covered it with a huge coat of snow.

Geralt had been on guard, making a quick round of reconnaissance closest to the clearing where the camp was. Even if he didn't sense any monster, there could be wolves or bears prowling around and he didn't want to be surprised during the night while he was meditating. When the witcher came back to the clearing, the fire had been reduced to weakly incandescent embers, and bard and mare were asleep safe and sound. Roach was lying down but with her legs ready to stand up instantly if she felt danger. Geralt knew she would wake up in three hours at the most.

And that she would wake up Jaskier at that moment.

The bard was leaning, or rather curled up, against the mare's belly and back, snoring softly on her mane. He must have fallen asleep while Geralt secured the area, looking for the warmest and comfortable spot to do it. Geralt would have told him that he could have spread his bedroll beside the fire, that horses only slept three hours even if they felt safe and it wasn't a good idea slept near Roach. Geralt contemplated them for a second, shaking his head a little with resignation before approached the mare and the bard, as careful as he could be. Two steps away, Roach snorted softly and raised her head to look at Geralt as if the witcher was a threat to Jaskier. But Geralt caressed her muzzle with a tiny smile blooming in his lips. The mare pushed his hand, gently, looking for something to eat, nibbling his fingers. Geralt sighed and bent down next to Jaskier.

Then he noticed the cloak.

He hadn’t noticed Jaskier had it when he had returned to the camp, but the bard had wrapped himself in Geralt huge black cloak in his absence. Geralt blinked a little surprised because even if it would be really cold, Jaskier could have kept the fire burning, or simply taken advantage of the heat of the mare like he was apparently doing right now.

But he had the cloak too.

Jaskier must be very cold, he thought, but he’s not shaking, and his cheeks are rosy.

Geralt made a confused grimace and brushed a strand of hair from Jaskier's forehead, taking a deep breath. A strange but soft and pleasant feeling ran through his body as if he was immersing himself in hot water. He parted his lips, licking it slightly, feeling his fingertips tickling while he was stroking Jaskier warm temple.

He wasn’t cold, he just wanted…

Geralt let out a faint and pensive hm, watching him, feeling that the warm was fusing and melting with calm, peace, and something delicate, fragile, heavy, but not heavy in a bad way. And that feeling whirled in his chest, tightened his guts and crawled along his back, up to his spine as if sweet and comforting fingers were massaging his skin, his muscles, his hair.

It was something electric.

Geralt patted Roach’s neck and got up. He spread both bedrolls, his and Jaskier's, together, setting a one larger than if the two bedrolls were separate. Then he walked back to Roach and bent down beside Jaskier again. And picked him up, one arm under his back, the other under his knees.

It was like lifting a feather.

Jaskier mumbled something incoherent and open his eyes a little, somnolent.

"Geralt?" he murmured, his voice weak and low, tinted with the mantle of dreams.

The witcher looked down, at him, knowing that Jaskier couldn't see in the dark, far less if he was not entirely awake.

"Hm?" he grunted softly,

Jaskier shrugged in his arms and didn't answer back. When Geralt left him on the bedrolls he curled up much more for instinct than for keeping warm. Geralt sat down on the other bedroll and cast Igni. The sign torched the bonfire in a blink, throwing gloomy shadows and lights around the camp. It creaked with orange sparks. The witcher closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

A cloud of scents was fluttering around. The burned wood, ashes, dust, warm stone, dried grass. He also could smell Roach, her strong aroma sprinkled with oats, pasture and the apples Jaskier gave her sometimes. And there were the pines and the thicket, the woods. It was a fresh, green and humid aroma, that was covering the other like a gentle... cloak. Geralt looked at Jaskier, who was sleeping again and felt himself smiling softly. His human scent was like breathing after being drowning in deep and dark waters. It was precious, a smell that made him feel comfortable, safe…

Then he could smell his own scent, merged with Jaskier's. He wasn't completely sure it was his, but there was leather, metal, even a mist of blood, and something acid and viscous that Geralt thought could be his potions. His smile faded a little as he stroked the bard's hair again with shy fingers.

He felt the exact second in which Jaskier wake up, so he took his hand away slowly. He saw his nose and forehead wrinkling, he heard his gasp, his breath hitching. And he sensed him trembling before he began to get up, with the cloak covering his shoulders and almost all of his body, and spreading around him like a silent shield, like a guardian. Jaskier yawned behind a hand and sniffed, tired, eyes narrowed at the light the fire was pouring everywhere.

"Geralt?" he mumbled like the first time. "What time is it?"

"Go to sleep again, you have a few hours until dawn," Geralt advised, low and soft voice.

Jaskier made a sound mixture of a growl and a whine. Gerald snorted. The bard rubbed his face, mostly his eyes, and wake up a little more. He let out a new grunt and looked at Geralt, seeming guilty.

"Sorry, I fell asleep with your cloak when you were gone," he said,

”Oh, you don't say," Geralt arched his eyebrows, pretending to be surprised.

Jaskier huffed, smacking him in the arm. It was a slap so weak that Geralt chuckled. Then Jaskier rested his head on Geralt's shoulder.

"It's warm," he whispered, and Geralt felt his smile without looking. "And smells like you, it's comfy… nice."

Geralt smiled too, softly. He had always thought that his smell was too strong, too much thick and dense and nasty for Jaskier because Jaskier loved how soaps made him smell like lavender or roses or whatever. And certainly, he knew Jaskier also loved perfumes and incenses, and…

"I can smell me in you right now," Geralt murmured. "It's nice too."

"Really?" Jaskier lifted his head.

"Yes,"

Geralt looked at him, almost feeling Jaskier's breath in his lips, thinking about how he could explain to him how the idea of Jaskier having his scent stuck it was important. It wasn't simply nice, it was much more than that. And he liked it. He liked what it meant.

Jaskier smiled, flashed him a glint of his pearly white teeth and kissed Geralt on the lips. It was a slight, quick peck, too short, too weak. Geralt sighed, wanting more.

"Go back to sleep, little bird," he muttered, stroking Jaskier rosy cheek with his thumb. "Tomorrow will be a long day."

"Hm," Jaskier hummed, kissing him again and whispered in his mouth. "Sleep with me?"

Geralt parted lips, to say that he won't need to sleep that night, that he had to meditate to concentrate for the next day. But. He saw his brilliant blue eyes, brighter with the light fire. He saw his tiny pretty frown. He saw his eyes closed by the touch of his fingers. He felt his skin, soft and warm. And decided to indulge him.

"Alright," he said.

Jaskier smiled again.

"Do you want your cloak back?"

Geralt didn't need to think twice about the answer.

"No, keep it,"

It's not that cold, he thought, he just wanted my cloak.

Jaskier let out a tired happy grunt and curled up in one side of the two combined bedrolls, wrapping himself a little more with the cloak. Geralt waited for a heartbeat, watching him accommodate. Then he threw a glance at Roach, who was sleeping calmly without minding anything else, and lay on his back, looking at the stars, beside Jaskier. Instantly, the bard moved towards him near enough to rest his head on Geralt's arm. Slowly, Geralt raised that arm and let Jaskier move even closer until he could stretch alongside the witcher larger body. Jaskier nuzzled just under Geralt’s not completely rough with beard jaw, yawning like a little puppy.

Geralt breathed in, deep and long, catching again that precious scent, the smell of buttercups and daisies, the lute wood varnished with specials oils that made it shine a little. Jaskier also smelled like Roach, and like his witcher armor leather, like his silver sword. Then he exhaled a long sigh and closed his eyes, feeling the rough and, at the same time, the heady touch of his cloak, the cloak that made Jaskier feel safe, under his fingers.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #angst + fluff prompts #the witcher netflix #my fanfiction #the witcher

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