Trusting you? Oh, yes, that makes perfect sense. Very easy to do. [A laugh. A riot. You know what he trusts her to do? To insult him every chance she gets (maybe... not this one time, but that is an outlier and must not be counted), to upset Geralt with some new manipulative mood and -- yes, to be manipulative.
He considers she's just trying to trick him into sex, but. No. He dismisses it immediately. For one, no one has ever tricked him into it. Two, it's completely unnecessary for trickery to be involved to get him naked. Even with sorceresses he does not trust.
He blinks. Oh. There's. More to this. A lot more. Jaskier looks up at her, both taking in her commanding stance and -- yes, of course she smells wonderful, she always does, and it's still infuriating as ever.
He allows her touch, swallowing. His mouth is suddenly very wet.]
Let me get this straight. You're going to... to fuck me... to fix my magic? You're going to fuck my brains out to fix my magic?
[The two gears that make up Jaskier's thought process begin to spin. Her hand falls away and he is sitting here, somewhat embarrassingly, with a twinge in his dick. Great.] Ah, well, fuck it. The worst I get out of it is the fucking of my life, even if it doesn't work.
[Seems simple to him, honestly. And after last time, he's quite aware of what fucking a sorceress is like.]
[ he's not entirely wrong, either. every step she makes and every decision that has come across her path has been to further her agenda, to be sure of her place with the people who matter the most to her. but what jaskier may, or may not, realize is that this, whatever this is, might fit somewhere along that list.
yennefer does roll her eyes at his dramatics, letting out a sigh of great proportions just to get his attention back. ] I didn't say this was easy. It's just an alternative. If you'd rather, I am happy to stick my fingers right inside that brain of yours to figure it out instead. [ the worst part about all of this is that yennefer has actually, genuinely threatened jaskier enough times that he'd be able to tell this one is fairly empty. she has no real interest in forcing herself into jaskier's mind. no real interest in inserting herself into his mind in any real way at all. which is why, whether he notices her near-false sense of neutrality, that she's definitely more interested in. this.
she does notice the way he seems to still. the way his body adjusts itself, just enough. he's affected by her, she could recognize the look in any partner of hers from a mile away, and yet jaskier still tries to talk. tries to put words where there doesn't need to be more. ]
I'm going to fuck your brains out to stop you from thinking. [ it's a correction, more than an agreement. and as she pulls her hand away and she can nearly feel him chase after it, there is a hint of a curl to her mouth.
part of yennefer hates how, suddenly, interested she is in all of this. how the image of what she's going to do excites her. but when it's the two of them in this tent, in her domain, in her space, she just nearly feels comfortable enough to admit to herself how good of a fuck jaskier had been. just nearly feels comfortable enough letting a low, simmering heat start up in her gut at jaskier's agreement, at his casual comment, at this. ]
Good. [ does it sound a little too close to praise? maybe. but yennefer doesn't give either of them too much time to think about it. ] Clothes off. Hands and knees. [ she takes a step back, then. away from him, from the bed, and lifts a brow if he hesitates in any way. ] Unless you'd like to sit around and talk about it more?
[He narrows his eyes, only a little, at her insistence it is not easy. He isn't sure what matter of creature has ever crawled inside her, but he's not sure he would ever say fucking, in any of its forms, was particularly hard. She makes it sound as if it's -- well, as she said. An alternative to something which sounds far more invasive.
His heart skips. This is Yennefer. She doesn't mince her words.
If it isn't easy, then it won't be.
Jaskier does chase. His face moves slightly towards the space where he hand had been, gooseflesh rising on his arms as he begins to imagine what, exactly, will not make this easy. Chains? Chains are always a choice. Though if you ask him, he prefers something softer, like velvet --
Oh. Fuck. It's more than a twinge in his dick now.] It -- really? Not even a hint of foreplay, dear sorceress?
[It isn't affectionate, but he can admit... it is teasing. No. No, fuck it. He loves sex, and Yennefer is good at it, and it would be nice. Not to think. He's tired of thinking. Thinking has gotten him nowhere, except with some lovely fantasies, and those fantasies have never done what Yennefer ordering his clothes off is doing to him right now.]
Fine. [He stands, unbuttoning his chemise. He pulls it from his chest, lets it fall back onto the bed.] Have it your way.
[He pulls the drawstring of his trousers. Let there never be a story that states Jaskier did not immediately disrobe when a beautiful woman told him to. (He only hopes they scrub out the part that it was Yennefer who did so, and that he hopped to the command like a well-trained hound.)
His trousers fall. He swallows.] Hands and knees... facing you?
[He may as well let her boss him around. If this is how it's going.]
[ it will prove to be important, and probably extremely helpful, that jaskier at last knows yennefer enough to know that this is something a bit different than what they'd done before. important, and helpful, that he is going into this with some level of understanding. she knows that in another time, not all that long ago, she wouldn't have bothered with these warnings. not all that long ago that she probably wouldn't have bothered with this alternative at all.
but they are different people. this is a different time. and if yennefer had chosen to take the self-introspection to understand what this meant, she might not like what it is she's seeing (the softer way she thinks of geralt, the warmth she has around ciri, the way the bard had reached out for her and she had answered). but then again - that is why she does not give herself the time.
plus - if jaskier had wanted velvet (or perhaps indeed the chains) - they could probably appear. she's open to suggestions, open to what his mind might want to supply. but for now she simply watches his attempt to tease, his easy words, and her arms cross over her chest. ]
I don't need foreplay when there's magic, bard. Has that not been made clear enough for you? [ she doesn't really care to hear the answer, doesn't really care his thoughts on the matter in this moment. instead, she cares about the way he does move to stand. the way he does snap to attention at her orders. (and perhaps they will scrub the part of how he'd hopped to her command. or perhaps yennefer simply won't tell anyone else. perhaps she prefers to keep this truth - about jaskier, about this - as her own little secret. just as she prefers to keep the way the vision of it warms at her. a heat she wouldn't have normally acknowledged).
jaskier disrobes, and yennefer watches - eyes hungry, in their own way. calculating, in others. she hadn't really taken the time last chance she had to see jaskier, to note the planes of his chest, the complexion of his skin - now, in its own way, dotted with red. not quite a flush, no, but a reaction. a reaction to her. with her arms still crossed, yennefer lets a single brow rise, her eyes turning away from his naked body to his face. the look is not impressed, necessarily (she's well aware of the size and look of his cock), but pleased. in the same way she'd looked pleased at a well trained dog. (now there a thought.) ]
No. [ she says, not unkindly, but firm. ] Away from me. And put that on. [ she gestures with her chin towards the bedframe, where a black piece of cloth hands from one of the posts. depending on what jaskier prefers - because the horizon is open to it, to him, in its own way - it will either be two pieces, to his his wrists, or a single one, for his eyes.
and if he at all hesitates, she will look to him again, a hint of impatient in the line of her jaw. ] Well? Go.
[She's getting an answer anyway.] Ah, no offense, but your magic isn't exactly going to give me a hard-on -- wait, if it is, please do not. I don't want anyone's magic around that area, thank you, it's virgin flesh at this point.
[To magic, he means. Obviously not -- all right, he's babbling a little bit, one because he's very aroused and his brain is grasping at straws, and two... he's forgotten what the two is, actually. He's sort of hoping that the brain searching is not, actually, the better choice between them in the end.
Go.]
Fine, fine! [She doesn't need to bully him, except -- apparently she does. He has no idea how this works, actually, and if he had more than one brain cell he might inquire more into it beyond I'm fucking you out of your head. Look, sometimes a woman wants to do that to you, and you let it happen.
So he climbs on the bed. Reaches for the cloth. As he'd wanted, it is velvet; the softest he's ever touched, thankfully, to go over his eyes.
Boy. If someone had told him he'd be in this situation even a year ago --
He wraps it around his head, kneeling on his knees, blocking out the Horizon. There is only darkness, even if he can feel the domain around them. Perhaps the magic of it. And whether it is the chaos in him, or in the Horizon itself, his magic stirs like a wanting, hungry thing. (Sort of like him right now.)
Jaskier slides his hands down his thighs, onto the bed. On hands and knees, as she ordered.
And because it's him, he gives his ass a bit of a wiggle.] You know, you could have simply asked for the best view of your life. I may have been inclined to give it last time.
There is nothing virgin about that flesh. We both know that. [ she knows what he means, but she says it all the same. partially because she knows he's babbling. knows that he's trying to fill space and cover up whatever nerves he may or may not be experiencing as well as...ah. she notices when he moves just as aroused he really is, and yennefer finds herself smirking ever so slightly.
this might be easier than she thought.
she does watch as he gets up on the bed. watches as he reaches for the cloth and ties it around his eyes. her smirk turns to something a bit wider, if only for herself, as she walks slowly over to the side of the bed towards what is normally her nightstand. each step her appearance changes, if only for her own benefit, the expensive fabrics and long skirts giving way to something a bit more form fitting. a bit more fitting of the moment, though she is most certainly not undressed - dark lace and silk decorate her in way that is, at least for right now, just for her own benefit. once she has seen the extent to which he's tied the blindfold. and then, at the ass-wiggle, yennefer lets out a breath of air. sharp, unimpressed. when she speaks, her voice has a new pitch to it, all remnants of the earlier casual, almost-friendly nature to their conversation gone. instead, it is replaced with something sharp, already annoyed, and authoritative. ]
I didn't ask for you to run your mouth. [ then, without much warning, she sets a single finger at the base of his skull. there isn't meant to be any magic, just a point of reference for him as she starts to walk, slowly, to the foot of the bed - her fingernail a light scrape along his spine. her words punctuate each of her steps, not that he would see, and she keeps her finger trailing until she reaches the foot of the bed. ] Though I could gag you, if I needed to. It's not necessary for this to work, but it might be for my sanity. Unless you'd prefer that? It would be a blessing to have the quiet, but it does mean I would miss the chance to hear you beg.
[ a bottle of oil appears in her other hand, uncapped. she pulls the hand away from him for just a moment, barely a second, before she slaps him across the ass. if he winces, or tries to move away from her, she'll lay her hand flat against him to hold him still, rubbing at the blossoming red mark. with that hand on his ass, she pours the oil over him, down between his cheeks.
the next time she speaks, her voice is a fraction softer, though hardly soft. ]
I don't suppose I need to remind you that you can leave, at any time. But for this to work, you're going to need to be pushed beyond your normal levels of comfort. Very few minds want to be cleared this fully.
[He huffs. He may be naked and somewhat worried, but he can still let out an annoyed huff every now and then. Perhaps less, though, as the sound of it makes him lose where she is in relation to the room. As she walks, he tips his head towards where he thinks she is.
His skin prickles with gooseflesh. The sort of tone that could strip meat from a bone.]
Oh. [He quiets, her nail digging into his skin. Scraping down him. Stripping meat from the bone, as he thought, except it's more like stripping the breath from his lungs.
He considers. It's an offering, surprisingly, if he should prefer it. Does he? Jaskier likes a good deal many things, but he also likes hearing his own noises. Gags have never been his preference, unless certain moments truly call for it.]
Honestly, I think you'd miss out on the moans I'm about to make. [He gives her a smile -- or, at least, the edge of the bed he's last heard her at.
Then yelps.] Ow! You know, you didn't ask about that one!
[And now his ass has flared up with the heat of skin roughly spanked. Even as he complains, though, a shudder rolls through him. He stills, fingers curling into the bed underneath him. Toes and fingers both.
His head falls a little.] I appreciate your emphasis on it, I promise. [It's sincere. That if it all is too much, if he would rather be without the flow of his chaos than endure this, he will stop her. He can leave.
It's only the Horizon. You can't truly be hurt here.
He has a feeling she'll put that belief to the test.] I want it enough. I'm sure of it.
[ she decides not to acknowledge the it was a joke with any response at all, instead allowing her focus to shift towards him as he quiets, as he shudders, as he starts to react to the barest of her touches. she picks up on all the information she'll know she'll use - the gooseflesh, the quite moments of consideration, the way his fingers and toes curl. this will be easier than she thought, if he's this reactive already, but yennefer does see any reason to speed things up.
you'd miss the moans i'm about to make he says, and yennefer snorts, watching him smile towards the corner of the bed she'd just been in. he's trying to find his bearings, trying to find his footing, and she can't blame him. even when she knows how futile it's going to be. ]
I'm not going to ask about most of this. [ and, as if to prove her point, she quickly spanks the other side. a quick crack, sharp followed by heat. the oil will be a cool contrast where it spills over him, down between the blossoming red marks and pouring, slowly, across his balls until it falls to the mattress itself. she knows how aroused he is, knows that the sensations of it should slowly be driving him a bit insane. but that's the point of this, isn't it? ] Since you want it enough.
[ she's to his side again, his right side, as she steps forward and settles a knee on the mattress. it gives her location away, for now, but she supposes she can allow for that as she trails one hand back up over his spine (a mirror of how she's drawn her hand back and forth over his scar, during that first night.) her fingers tracing with just enough force back up his spine to the base of his neck. those fingers then scrape up against his skull, threading between his hair - longer than last time, but just as thick. her other hand slides in the opposite direction, coating her fingers in the oil she's left behind. ]
You've hardly been prudish when it comes to this sort of thing, so it does make me a bit curious. [ she says, thoughtfully, considering, as her fingers in his hair card through his locks a time or two as her other hand rubs at him, seemingly just as distracted. she does like his hair, that much she's been able to admit to herself by now, especially with how easy it is for her grip to tighten in it, to jerk his head back as her other finger presses into him with very little ceremony, testing still at this point. ] How long have you held out before letting yourself go? Actually held back? Hmm?
[As she expects, he starts with a yelp. Goddammit. He's not new to this, he reassures himself, but he's new to Yennefer, who is a force, a storm, all on her own -- and is quite ab it more capable of snapping him like a twig than most. At least he can trust Geralt not to hurt him. Here, with her, he doesn't.
He reasons she'll tell him that's the point.
Jaskier gives up trying to mark where she is; it's not going to matter, soon enough, if he's truly overwhelmed. She has plenty of ways to make sensations come from every direction, and if he's being honest, a few slaps on his ass and a hard-on are plenty to focus on already.
She does not give him much breathing room to only focus on those. Gently, he lets out a breath, putting every ounce of his focus into it, as his heart thunders in his chest.]
F-fuck. [His breath leaves him in a huff, chest shuddering to take another one. As he thought. She was not gentle. But... it isn't cruel, either, even as she presses in. There's no cruelty to this. How many holes has he fingered himself?]
Long. It used to be a game with us in Oxenfurt, sometimes. To see how long we could last without spilling. I'll have you know, I was very good at it.
[ after those first few fingers slip in through the ring of muscle, yennefer does not really stop moving at any point. if it isn't her fingers (pressing further inside and spreading him, another finger added a few moments later just to feel him stretch), then it is her other hand, either threaded through the hair at the back of his head, or moving to curl her fingers around the back of his neck.
f-fuck he mutters, and it's like a breath of air leaving him in a huff. she smiles a bit at that, curved and somewhat sharp, as she leans a bit more over the back of him, watching his chest expand with each breath. but no, there is no cruelty in it, because yennefer is not interested in being cruel. not here. not tonight.
she supposes that this could move much more quickly, if she wanted it to. that there were ways to push him all the way up to the edge and watch him unravel and be done with it, to head back home. but, as yennefer considers this, she decides that really - there isn't much else she'd rather be doing this evening, as she lets her nails scrap down across the skin of his shoulders, leaving red marks in their wake. she does this for a few long moments, just to drive him a little crazy. ]
Very good? [ making a soft hum of acknowledgment, all the while her fingers inside him continue to stretch. ] Maybe we should test that. [ her voice is curious, vaguely interested, but also impartial. slick, smooth, and cool. she leans down across him, so that her lips barely brush across one of the lines she's leaving across his back, red and slightly puffed. ]
You're not to come until I say so. [ she grins just enough that he can probably feel it against his shoulder blade, before she - and yes, the timing is very precise. very particular - press her fingers a little further in, looking for something she knows is there. a ball of nerves he must know she's looking for. ] Understood?
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no subject
He considers she's just trying to trick him into sex, but. No. He dismisses it immediately. For one, no one has ever tricked him into it. Two, it's completely unnecessary for trickery to be involved to get him naked. Even with sorceresses he does not trust.
He blinks. Oh. There's. More to this. A lot more. Jaskier looks up at her, both taking in her commanding stance and -- yes, of course she smells wonderful, she always does, and it's still infuriating as ever.
He allows her touch, swallowing. His mouth is suddenly very wet.]
Let me get this straight. You're going to... to fuck me... to fix my magic? You're going to fuck my brains out to fix my magic?
[The two gears that make up Jaskier's thought process begin to spin. Her hand falls away and he is sitting here, somewhat embarrassingly, with a twinge in his dick. Great.] Ah, well, fuck it. The worst I get out of it is the fucking of my life, even if it doesn't work.
[Seems simple to him, honestly. And after last time, he's quite aware of what fucking a sorceress is like.]
no subject
yennefer does roll her eyes at his dramatics, letting out a sigh of great proportions just to get his attention back. ] I didn't say this was easy. It's just an alternative. If you'd rather, I am happy to stick my fingers right inside that brain of yours to figure it out instead. [ the worst part about all of this is that yennefer has actually, genuinely threatened jaskier enough times that he'd be able to tell this one is fairly empty. she has no real interest in forcing herself into jaskier's mind. no real interest in inserting herself into his mind in any real way at all. which is why, whether he notices her near-false sense of neutrality, that she's definitely more interested in. this.
she does notice the way he seems to still. the way his body adjusts itself, just enough. he's affected by her, she could recognize the look in any partner of hers from a mile away, and yet jaskier still tries to talk. tries to put words where there doesn't need to be more. ]
I'm going to fuck your brains out to stop you from thinking. [ it's a correction, more than an agreement. and as she pulls her hand away and she can nearly feel him chase after it, there is a hint of a curl to her mouth.
part of yennefer hates how, suddenly, interested she is in all of this. how the image of what she's going to do excites her. but when it's the two of them in this tent, in her domain, in her space, she just nearly feels comfortable enough to admit to herself how good of a fuck jaskier had been. just nearly feels comfortable enough letting a low, simmering heat start up in her gut at jaskier's agreement, at his casual comment, at this. ]
Good. [ does it sound a little too close to praise? maybe. but yennefer doesn't give either of them too much time to think about it. ] Clothes off. Hands and knees. [ she takes a step back, then. away from him, from the bed, and lifts a brow if he hesitates in any way. ] Unless you'd like to sit around and talk about it more?
no subject
His heart skips. This is Yennefer. She doesn't mince her words.
If it isn't easy, then it won't be.
Jaskier does chase. His face moves slightly towards the space where he hand had been, gooseflesh rising on his arms as he begins to imagine what, exactly, will not make this easy. Chains? Chains are always a choice. Though if you ask him, he prefers something softer, like velvet --
Oh. Fuck. It's more than a twinge in his dick now.] It -- really? Not even a hint of foreplay, dear sorceress?
[It isn't affectionate, but he can admit... it is teasing. No. No, fuck it. He loves sex, and Yennefer is good at it, and it would be nice. Not to think. He's tired of thinking. Thinking has gotten him nowhere, except with some lovely fantasies, and those fantasies have never done what Yennefer ordering his clothes off is doing to him right now.]
Fine. [He stands, unbuttoning his chemise. He pulls it from his chest, lets it fall back onto the bed.] Have it your way.
[He pulls the drawstring of his trousers. Let there never be a story that states Jaskier did not immediately disrobe when a beautiful woman told him to. (He only hopes they scrub out the part that it was Yennefer who did so, and that he hopped to the command like a well-trained hound.)
His trousers fall. He swallows.] Hands and knees... facing you?
[He may as well let her boss him around. If this is how it's going.]
no subject
but they are different people. this is a different time. and if yennefer had chosen to take the self-introspection to understand what this meant, she might not like what it is she's seeing (the softer way she thinks of geralt, the warmth she has around ciri, the way the bard had reached out for her and she had answered). but then again - that is why she does not give herself the time.
plus - if jaskier had wanted velvet (or perhaps indeed the chains) - they could probably appear. she's open to suggestions, open to what his mind might want to supply. but for now she simply watches his attempt to tease, his easy words, and her arms cross over her chest. ]
I don't need foreplay when there's magic, bard. Has that not been made clear enough for you? [ she doesn't really care to hear the answer, doesn't really care his thoughts on the matter in this moment. instead, she cares about the way he does move to stand. the way he does snap to attention at her orders. (and perhaps they will scrub the part of how he'd hopped to her command. or perhaps yennefer simply won't tell anyone else. perhaps she prefers to keep this truth - about jaskier, about this - as her own little secret. just as she prefers to keep the way the vision of it warms at her. a heat she wouldn't have normally acknowledged).
jaskier disrobes, and yennefer watches - eyes hungry, in their own way. calculating, in others. she hadn't really taken the time last chance she had to see jaskier, to note the planes of his chest, the complexion of his skin - now, in its own way, dotted with red. not quite a flush, no, but a reaction. a reaction to her. with her arms still crossed, yennefer lets a single brow rise, her eyes turning away from his naked body to his face. the look is not impressed, necessarily (she's well aware of the size and look of his cock), but pleased. in the same way she'd looked pleased at a well trained dog. (now there a thought.) ]
No. [ she says, not unkindly, but firm. ] Away from me. And put that on. [ she gestures with her chin towards the bedframe, where a black piece of cloth hands from one of the posts. depending on what jaskier prefers - because the horizon is open to it, to him, in its own way - it will either be two pieces, to his his wrists, or a single one, for his eyes.
and if he at all hesitates, she will look to him again, a hint of impatient in the line of her jaw. ] Well? Go.
no subject
[To magic, he means. Obviously not -- all right, he's babbling a little bit, one because he's very aroused and his brain is grasping at straws, and two... he's forgotten what the two is, actually. He's sort of hoping that the brain searching is not, actually, the better choice between them in the end.
Go.]
Fine, fine! [She doesn't need to bully him, except -- apparently she does. He has no idea how this works, actually, and if he had more than one brain cell he might inquire more into it beyond I'm fucking you out of your head. Look, sometimes a woman wants to do that to you, and you let it happen.
So he climbs on the bed. Reaches for the cloth. As he'd wanted, it is velvet; the softest he's ever touched, thankfully, to go over his eyes.
Boy. If someone had told him he'd be in this situation even a year ago --
He wraps it around his head, kneeling on his knees, blocking out the Horizon. There is only darkness, even if he can feel the domain around them. Perhaps the magic of it. And whether it is the chaos in him, or in the Horizon itself, his magic stirs like a wanting, hungry thing. (Sort of like him right now.)
Jaskier slides his hands down his thighs, onto the bed. On hands and knees, as she ordered.
And because it's him, he gives his ass a bit of a wiggle.] You know, you could have simply asked for the best view of your life. I may have been inclined to give it last time.
no subject
this might be easier than she thought.
she does watch as he gets up on the bed. watches as he reaches for the cloth and ties it around his eyes. her smirk turns to something a bit wider, if only for herself, as she walks slowly over to the side of the bed towards what is normally her nightstand. each step her appearance changes, if only for her own benefit, the expensive fabrics and long skirts giving way to something a bit more form fitting. a bit more fitting of the moment, though she is most certainly not undressed - dark lace and silk decorate her in way that is, at least for right now, just for her own benefit. once she has seen the extent to which he's tied the blindfold. and then, at the ass-wiggle, yennefer lets out a breath of air. sharp, unimpressed. when she speaks, her voice has a new pitch to it, all remnants of the earlier casual, almost-friendly nature to their conversation gone. instead, it is replaced with something sharp, already annoyed, and authoritative. ]
I didn't ask for you to run your mouth. [ then, without much warning, she sets a single finger at the base of his skull. there isn't meant to be any magic, just a point of reference for him as she starts to walk, slowly, to the foot of the bed - her fingernail a light scrape along his spine. her words punctuate each of her steps, not that he would see, and she keeps her finger trailing until she reaches the foot of the bed. ] Though I could gag you, if I needed to. It's not necessary for this to work, but it might be for my sanity. Unless you'd prefer that? It would be a blessing to have the quiet, but it does mean I would miss the chance to hear you beg.
[ a bottle of oil appears in her other hand, uncapped. she pulls the hand away from him for just a moment, barely a second, before she slaps him across the ass. if he winces, or tries to move away from her, she'll lay her hand flat against him to hold him still, rubbing at the blossoming red mark. with that hand on his ass, she pours the oil over him, down between his cheeks.
the next time she speaks, her voice is a fraction softer, though hardly soft. ]
I don't suppose I need to remind you that you can leave, at any time. But for this to work, you're going to need to be pushed beyond your normal levels of comfort. Very few minds want to be cleared this fully.
no subject
[He huffs. He may be naked and somewhat worried, but he can still let out an annoyed huff every now and then. Perhaps less, though, as the sound of it makes him lose where she is in relation to the room. As she walks, he tips his head towards where he thinks she is.
His skin prickles with gooseflesh. The sort of tone that could strip meat from a bone.]
Oh. [He quiets, her nail digging into his skin. Scraping down him. Stripping meat from the bone, as he thought, except it's more like stripping the breath from his lungs.
He considers. It's an offering, surprisingly, if he should prefer it. Does he? Jaskier likes a good deal many things, but he also likes hearing his own noises. Gags have never been his preference, unless certain moments truly call for it.]
Honestly, I think you'd miss out on the moans I'm about to make. [He gives her a smile -- or, at least, the edge of the bed he's last heard her at.
Then yelps.] Ow! You know, you didn't ask about that one!
[And now his ass has flared up with the heat of skin roughly spanked. Even as he complains, though, a shudder rolls through him. He stills, fingers curling into the bed underneath him. Toes and fingers both.
His head falls a little.] I appreciate your emphasis on it, I promise. [It's sincere. That if it all is too much, if he would rather be without the flow of his chaos than endure this, he will stop her. He can leave.
It's only the Horizon. You can't truly be hurt here.
He has a feeling she'll put that belief to the test.] I want it enough. I'm sure of it.
no subject
you'd miss the moans i'm about to make he says, and yennefer snorts, watching him smile towards the corner of the bed she'd just been in. he's trying to find his bearings, trying to find his footing, and she can't blame him. even when she knows how futile it's going to be. ]
I'm not going to ask about most of this. [ and, as if to prove her point, she quickly spanks the other side. a quick crack, sharp followed by heat. the oil will be a cool contrast where it spills over him, down between the blossoming red marks and pouring, slowly, across his balls until it falls to the mattress itself. she knows how aroused he is, knows that the sensations of it should slowly be driving him a bit insane. but that's the point of this, isn't it? ] Since you want it enough.
[ she's to his side again, his right side, as she steps forward and settles a knee on the mattress. it gives her location away, for now, but she supposes she can allow for that as she trails one hand back up over his spine (a mirror of how she's drawn her hand back and forth over his scar, during that first night.) her fingers tracing with just enough force back up his spine to the base of his neck. those fingers then scrape up against his skull, threading between his hair - longer than last time, but just as thick. her other hand slides in the opposite direction, coating her fingers in the oil she's left behind. ]
You've hardly been prudish when it comes to this sort of thing, so it does make me a bit curious. [ she says, thoughtfully, considering, as her fingers in his hair card through his locks a time or two as her other hand rubs at him, seemingly just as distracted. she does like his hair, that much she's been able to admit to herself by now, especially with how easy it is for her grip to tighten in it, to jerk his head back as her other finger presses into him with very little ceremony, testing still at this point. ] How long have you held out before letting yourself go? Actually held back? Hmm?
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[As she expects, he starts with a yelp. Goddammit. He's not new to this, he reassures himself, but he's new to Yennefer, who is a force, a storm, all on her own -- and is quite ab it more capable of snapping him like a twig than most. At least he can trust Geralt not to hurt him. Here, with her, he doesn't.
He reasons she'll tell him that's the point.
Jaskier gives up trying to mark where she is; it's not going to matter, soon enough, if he's truly overwhelmed. She has plenty of ways to make sensations come from every direction, and if he's being honest, a few slaps on his ass and a hard-on are plenty to focus on already.
She does not give him much breathing room to only focus on those. Gently, he lets out a breath, putting every ounce of his focus into it, as his heart thunders in his chest.]
F-fuck. [His breath leaves him in a huff, chest shuddering to take another one. As he thought. She was not gentle. But... it isn't cruel, either, even as she presses in. There's no cruelty to this. How many holes has he fingered himself?]
Long. It used to be a game with us in Oxenfurt, sometimes. To see how long we could last without spilling. I'll have you know, I was very good at it.
[He was also... younger. So. There's that.]
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f-fuck he mutters, and it's like a breath of air leaving him in a huff. she smiles a bit at that, curved and somewhat sharp, as she leans a bit more over the back of him, watching his chest expand with each breath. but no, there is no cruelty in it, because yennefer is not interested in being cruel. not here. not tonight.
she supposes that this could move much more quickly, if she wanted it to. that there were ways to push him all the way up to the edge and watch him unravel and be done with it, to head back home. but, as yennefer considers this, she decides that really - there isn't much else she'd rather be doing this evening, as she lets her nails scrap down across the skin of his shoulders, leaving red marks in their wake. she does this for a few long moments, just to drive him a little crazy. ]
Very good? [ making a soft hum of acknowledgment, all the while her fingers inside him continue to stretch. ] Maybe we should test that. [ her voice is curious, vaguely interested, but also impartial. slick, smooth, and cool. she leans down across him, so that her lips barely brush across one of the lines she's leaving across his back, red and slightly puffed. ]
You're not to come until I say so. [ she grins just enough that he can probably feel it against his shoulder blade, before she - and yes, the timing is very precise. very particular - press her fingers a little further in, looking for something she knows is there. a ball of nerves he must know she's looking for. ] Understood?