tw blood, injury //

Geralt was surprised at the precision with which Jaskier was stitching up his wounds.

"Hey, Jaskier, how do you know how to-"

"I've often had to stitch up my own clothes while on the road," Jaskier explained. "Human flesh is no different."

"I'm not-"

"You're not human, I know," Jaskier sighed, pinching Geralt's flesh particularly tightly, drawing a wince from the Witcher. "I swear Geralt, if the next words out of your mouth are along the lines of 'I'm a monster', I will leave your wound half stitched."

Geralt bowed his head,

suitably chastised, and Jaskier continued to work, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Geralt couldn't help the backflip his stomach did at the look.

Geralt had long ago accepted the things Jaskier did that made his heart and body sing, the things that Jaskier did that Geralt-

No. Geralt couldn't think that word. If he thought it, if he applied it to Jaskier, he would be too far gone, too in over his head, and he'd never be able to ease the ache in his heart.

(Because Jaskier could never feel that about him. He could have the whole world, could have-

-anyone he wanted, deserved someone with a thirst for life and love that matched his, someone who was sunshine personified just like Jaskier was. And that person wasn't Geralt.)

While he couldn't think /that word/, Geralt had long ago accepted how he felt about Jaskier. But-

"Geralt? Are you okay?" Jaskier asked, drawing Geralt back out of his mind. He'd finished stitching up Geralt's wound from a rather large pack of drowners, and his hands were lingering on Geralt's bare skin.

Geralt felt like his skin was on /fire/, burning where Jaskier touched.

It was the sweetest feeling in the world, the greatest pleasure, like the finest wine and food passing his lips and the loveliest song in the world hitting his ears at the same time. Geralt knew he could quickly become addicted to this feeling.

Hell, he probably already had.

Geralt couldn't help himself. He stared at Jaskier's hand, where it met Geralt's skin, and he let out a sigh of contentment. He leant forward into Jaskier's touch. He just... he couldn't hold back anymore.

/I'm weak, my love, and I am wanting./

"Geralt, what-" Jaskier started, cut off when Geralt fisted a hand in Jaskier's doublet, leaning his head on Jaskier's shoulder, deeply breathing in his scent. Citrus and honey with a hint of wine, the faint scent of rosin from Jaskier's lute, and-

Oh. /Oh/.

Geralt must have said this out loud, because Jaskier laughed and said, "Oh, indeed."

His hand trailed down Geralt skin, softly, gently, /lovingly/, stopping at the hem of Geralt's trousers.

"I'm an idiot," Geralt sighed, head still resting on Jaskier's shoulder. "How did I not-

"How could you have known?" Jaskier interrupted, hand still, even as Geralt leaned into his touch, seeking more. Seeking /everything/. "I never told you, and I know you're not good with these things, my love. I should've told you."

"My love..." Geralt breathed.

God, did it sound good to say that. Did it sound /right/.

"Yes, your love," Jaskier agreed. "As you are mine, dear Witcher."

"Good," Geralt said, more warmth and joy in his voice than he ever thought he could muster. "My love." A beat, then, "I just really like saying that."

Jaskier laughed, and Geralt thought that he could listen to that sound until the end of time. It was one of his favourite sounds, second only to Jaskier's singing.

"I like hearing it," Jaskier said. He put his free hand on Geralt's head, and Geralt allowed him to lift it up.

They maintained eye contact for the longest time, Jaskier allowing Geralt to see all the happiness and contentment and warm and /love/ reflected there.

"All this time, I was so afraid," Geralt whispered, his breath hot on Jaskier's face. "I'd accepted how I felt, but...

"but I felt like it was impossible. That you deserve so much more than I could ever be." Jaskier opened his mouth, but Geralt put a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Let me finish. I couldn't even think /that word/, because I knew that that would be too much.

But I think- I think I realise now, or perhaps I've always known, that you don't necessarily love what you are. You love what you need. You love what completes you. You are everything I'm not, Jaskier, and that's why I love you."

/God/, did it feel right to say that.

"You make me whole, make me better. And I rather hope that's what I do for you."

Jaskier laughed. "My my, Geralt of Rivia, that almost sounded poetic. I may have to make a song out of that. And you've hit the bandit on the head. You are everything I was missing."

"I'm not missing it anymore."

Both men grinned at each other, foreheads meeting. They were just drinking each other in, realising that this was /it/, that they had each other, and they no longer had to doubt their hearts.

There would be plenty of time for talking later.

Right now, there were more important things to do.

"Can I kiss you?" Jaskier asked. "I've always wanted to kiss you. Since the day we met, I've wondered what those lips tasted like."

It was Geralt's turn to laugh. "Jaskier, my love, I thought you'd never ask."

And when their lips met, soft upon coarse, well worn upon kiss-starved, Geralt of Rivia felt like he was coming home.

//end thread.