Duality

                                    

                                          
"Can't you take anything seriously?!" He growled, and leant closer despite himself, face inches from Jaskier's.
"Not when your hand's on my throat and I've got a boner the size of Temeria." He grinned wickedly and Geralt's willpower flew out the window. He closed the distance between them, grinding their erections together as he ravaged the Bard's lips, hand still wrapped around his throat. Jaskier gasped into his mouth and he swallowed it down and bit his lip hard enough to draw the Bard's blood. Fuck he'd missed this.
He stood back to admire his work and found Jaskier's pupils blown wide with lust, hands gripping at the column behind him. His face was going red from the lack of air and Geralt suddenly let go of his Bard, suddenly scared of just how much he wanted him. Jaskier wasn't hesitating though, he tugged his shirt over his head and unbuttoned his breeches, in seconds he was naked and prowling towards Geralt. The Witcher backed up a few feet and the back of his knees hit the hay. He was still pissed, but the anger was battling the desire and he was struggling to know which one to follow. When Jaskier's hand slid into his trousers and wrapped around his cock, he made up his mind: he would have both. 
He spun them around in a flash, tossing Jaskier onto the 'bed' and not gently. He practically ripped his own shirt and breeches off, and grabbed the Bard by the ankles, yanking him closer and flipping him over. Jaskier's breath hitched again, perhaps by the force, perhaps the arousal, he himself wasn't sure. Geralt's hands wrapped around his neck and he leant close enough that he breath heated the Bard's neck when he said "Tell me you need me."
Jaskier was too fucking turned on to care much who won the argument, so he groaned out "I fucking need you. Please... Fuck me. Geralt, fuck me!"
 His voice rose but he made sure it wasn't loud enough to wake the sleeping princess. Geralt shifted his hands to the Bard's hips and dragged him onto his hands and knees. Jaskier's ass brushed his cock and he sucked in a breath, encouraging Jaskier to shamelessly grind against Geralt. The Witcher spat onto his palm and pumped his cock a few times, listening carefully for Jaskier's heartbeat and signs of fear or worry but there was only the overwhelming smell of arousal and a surprisingly steady beat that meant he knew just what he was doing. 
Geralt lined up and thrust deep into Jaskier with a grunt, giving the Bard only a moment to adjust before his hands were gripping the hollows of his hips and using the purchase to thrust again. Jaskier's head drooped and his fists clenched in the fabric of the blanket as he took slow, deep breaths and bit down on his lip. The pain was coursing up through him but he but back the cries and instead focused on the impending pleasure. One more adjustment and Geralt was tucked right against his prostate, hands gripping tight enough on his hips to leave red marks - but those were the ones Jaskier loved. 
"Auhh, Fuck Geralt, right there!" He moaned, pushing himself down further on Geralt's cock until his ass met with the Witcher's hipbones. Pleasure ripped through him suddenly when Geralt pulled out nearly all the way and slammed back in at the same angle. A litany of curses flew from Jaskier's lips and Geralt grinned, sliding one hand into the Bard's hair and pulling his head sharply back as he thrust again. Jaskier let Geralt use and abuse him, revelling in the feeling of being dominated so completely, the roughness and the aggression that made him feel feral.
"Faster Witcher. Use that fucking stamina of yours, i'm not made of china!" He demanded, clenching around Geralt's cock. His man did as he was told and picked up the rhythm and force with which he pounded into Jaskier, breath ragged and caught somewhere between a moan and a growl. He put all his anger into the thrusts, being far from gentle with his Bard, but the harder he pushed the louder he moaned, Jaskier was a sucker for pain. Some small part of him wondered if he might actually tear Jaskier open if he put any more power into his hips, but then Jaskier snarled: "Harder." and all logical thoughts went from his head and he did as he was told, too out of his mind with pleasure and rage to care much if it hurt. 
His hand dropped from the Bard's hair to his throat again and it must have been the final push because a moment later a hoarse scream tore from his lips and he came in hot white spurts on the blanket that they would then have to hide from Ciri. Jaskier was not one to give up though, he steeled himself against the overstimulation and clenched to provide extra tightness so that Geralt could follow him after a moment and then collapse next to him with a huff. 
"I should get you angry more often." He said, obviously out of breath, eyes skirting over the red marks on the bard, from his hips to his neck.
"Yeah, lets not make it too often." Jaskier sighed, completely out of breath, energy and anger. That was certainly one way to resolver their issues. He felt gross, sweating and full of cum, but he couldn't make himself move. Geralt's eyes met him, bleary and unfocused, and then he sat up, slipped his arms under the Bard's knees and back and carried him outside bridal style.
They sat in the stream on a rock plateau, cold water reaching up their chests, and Geralt picked at the leather cord holding his hair back. Jaskier watched him as he idly flicked water with his fingers, letting the cold numb the throbbing in his ass. 
"Can you do the braid again?" Geralt said almost softly. Jaskier was sure he'd heard wrong.
"Huh?"
"I liked it. Do it again?" Geralt sidled closer and turned his head so that Jaskier could reach his hair. The Bard smiled to himself. The duality of their relationship was at times utterly confusing, but he wouldn't change it for the world: fuck like animals, love like newlyweds or teenagers with their first crush.