Want To See You

                                    

                                          
Jaskier tossed his short down on the stones by the river bank - his jacket and shoes, and Geralt's swords lay there already - and tilted his head to the side to welcome the Witcher's hot kisses. His right arm hand snaked it's way around his waist and held him up, he was glad because they were already turning soft. In one sharp and sudden move, the Witcher's left hand curled around the Bard's throat tugging him back until he leant on the hard chest of armour behind him - the grip wasn't tight but it was unyielding. 
Jaskier gasped and closed his eyes, his cock straining in his breeches, the callused hand on his throat stirring all sorts of desires deep in his gut. The arm that had been holding him up slid down and into his trousers, teasing at his member until he sucked in a breath.
"Fuck." He said through gritted teeth, feeling the Witcher's fingers dig in to the flesh at the sides of his neck so that he could breathe still but felt the pinch of pain mixed with the fucking insane feeling of being jacked off by the sexy giant. Jaskier didn't attempt to hold back his moan or struggle free of the Witcher's tightening grip, despite the blood rushing to his head. 
Geralt was getting hard from the sight, the Bards lips parted in arousal and cheeks pinks from lack of air, moans freely pouring from his throat so that Geralt could feel their vibrations in his hand. He was surprised at how much the Bard could take, first their almost dangerously violent fuck at the inn where he'd given as much as he'd taken, and now, hand squeezing the breath from his throat and he was... enjoying it. The power it gave Geralt, the thrill, was something entirely new. He didn't have to be gentle or hold back, he could let Jaskier have it all and he knew he could take it. The thought only turned him on more. 
"More, Geralt. I need more." The Witcher looked around for somewhere suitable, the best he could find was a smooth rock to their left, tall enough to pin Jaskier to, sturdy enough to take the force. 
"More it is." He whispered into Jaskier's ear, for once not caring if he was taking orders from the Bard. They were orders he was more than happy to carry out. Jaskier took a deep breath of the cold night air as Geralt released his throat and heaved the Bard over his shoulder, ignoring his protests. He practically tossed him down when they reached the stone, and Jaskier raised a sleek eyebrow, breathing heavily. Geralt unlatched his armour and tossed it aside along with his shirt, for Jaskier's benefit more than his own, the Bard always touched the Witcher like he couldn't believe he was real, and Geralt didn't exactly dislike it. The second they were off, Jaskier did exactly that, his hands tracing every inch of the Witcher's body, his eyes wide in surprise at being allowed to do it. Geralt popped open the button of his trousers and Jaskier began turning around.
"I want to see you." Geralt said, voice dropping an octave or two. Jaskier was pleased, he smiled a sly smile and kicked his breeches off, adding to the black pile of Geralt's clothes. He had no time to be ashamed or shy about his body anymore, not when he was this aroused. He wrapped a spit drenched hand around Geralt's cock, pushing the trousers down slightly, and worked his hard-on until Geralt's breath hitched and he smacked his hand away.
"Legs." He demanded, and Jaskier knew what to do. Back against the stone, hands on Geralt's shoulders for lift, he hoisted himself up and Geralt filled the space, hooking his arms under Jaskier's legs and setting his grip on the Bard's hips for purchase. As he lined up he cock, Jaskier took a deep breath, opening his arms across the rock as if he could find a place to grip. 
"Fucking do it!" The bard demanded, screwing his eyes shut. Geralt, urged on by the Bard's husky voice and secretly enjoying the sound of him so strong and commanding. It was so different to the cheery idiot he had to spend all day on the road with. "Now." He sounded almost threatening, and Geralt tried not to be turned on my that.
He didn't take his time. No. One clean, mean thrust and he was buried inside the bard, hearing his hiss and seeing the twist of pain on his face. He hesitated for a moment, finding himself oddly concerned, but then Jaskier bit his lip tipped his head back on the rock, throat baring the red finger-marks that were Geralt's revenge for the scars on his back, and the Witcher lost his control. He pulled out and thrust again, it was ugly and loud but it got the job done; Jaskier's eyes flew open and he let out a sound halfway between a hum and a gasp, chest heaving. 
"Again." He said, voice quivering but still firm. Geralt kissed those pink, chewed lips of his, tongue running over every inch of the Bard's beautiful mouth, and felt a moan rumble out of him as Jaskier pushed himself off the wall and further into the Witcher's embrace. 
"Don't get me wrong, I could kiss you for hours Witcher, but could you fuck me, like - Now." He said, breaking off from the kiss. Geralt laughed, it was rare he chuckle, but this was a hearty, proper laugh, and Jaskier looked as surprised as he had the first time. Geralt cut the surprise short with a slap of skin, thrusting fast and hard. He kept it up, not holding back as he had been forced to in the past, he put all his supernatural strength into pounding the bard into the rock. 
Jaskier's ass was screaming, as was his back on the cold, hard stone, but the contrast between the pain and the pleasure only amplified the pleasure. He cried out as Geralt hit that bundle of nerves that sent him spinning, and the Witcher grunted and ducked his head, panting with the effort and the pleasure. He could feel that pooling in his gut, Jaskier had sweat on his brow and a moan on his lips, and the sight made Geralt bite down on his lip and let out a low throaty groan. Jaskier's hands moved to Geralt's shoulders, fingers digging in until he was sure it would leave red marks, then to his neck and hair, fingers winding in his hair and tugging sharply. Geralt grunted and glared, but his eyes were alight with desire. 
They continued for some time in this wild, grunting manner, like animals rutting in the moonlight, until Jaskier let out a hoarse scream and went lax in Geralt's arms; the Witcher rode out his orgasm with a throaty moan and drooped forward on the stone, leaning on one hand for support as Jaskier slid from his grip and to the floor slowly, his legs no longer having enough strength to stand. 
"Is it always going to be like that." Jaskier panted, reaching a hand out to tuck a strand of loose white hair from Geralt's face. He didn't resist or even grumble.
"Yes." He turned to face the Bard. "I hope so."