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Something in the Way He Moves

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Jaskier wasn’t sure what woke him up. 

He glanced at the bedside clock. One-seventeen a.m. glowed back at him. 

He stretched slowly, enjoying the gentle burn, and lazily reached a hand over to the other side of the bed, already knowing what he would find. 

No Geralt. 

Jaskier sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and found a pair of gym shorts crumpled on the floor. He pulled them on and shuffled down the hallway. 

When he reached Geralt’s living room, he stopped, still in the darkness of the hallway, staring at the warm glow of the room. 

The coffee table, couch, and part of the floor were covered in piles of papers and files. Geralt was standing in front of the couch ironing a dress shirt in nothing but his boxer briefs. 

He had his Bluetooth earpiece on and was berating some poor soul on the other end. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he seethed, pressing the creases out of a grey dress shirt, just so. “You fucked up these contracts again! Who fucking wrote this shit? Get me their number. I don’t care what time it is. I have to get in a fucking taxi in 5 hours to get this to the printers and then to Cintra or they will sue the fuck out of us.”

While Jaskier felt really bad for whoever was on the receiving end of Geralt’s wrath, he couldn’t help but smile gently at the sight of his gorgeous and terrifying boyfriend. 

He stepped into the light and Geralt looked up at him. Without missing a beat in his tirade, his face softened and he managed to flash a smile at Jaskier.

Jaskier approached Geralt and gently took the iron from him. He made shooing motion with the other hand, nudging Geralt to the side with his hip. “I’ll do it,” he whispered, and pressed a quick kiss to Geralt’s bare shoulder. “You go work.”

Geralt ran a hand down Jaskier’s side and gave his waist a soft squeeze while he brushed his lips against his cheek. He wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, pausing a minute to let the other person get in a few words edgewise. 

Jaskier’s skin felt cool after Geralt’s hand was gone. He itched to have Geralt touching him again. Instead, he turned to drink in his silhouette against the night sky. 

Geralt was truly gorgeous - tall and broad, sculpted chest and arms, narrow waist, thick thighs. His long silver hair looked white in the moonlight. He hardly ever wore it entirely down. Jaskier admired the way it fell loose about his shoulders. 

Jaskier let his gaze linger slowly over every line of Geralt’s body and… one particular extremely well-endowed curve. 

He felt his cheeks flush a little, knowing exactly what the thin black material of his boxers was covering, and then they burned when he realized Geralt had caught him blatantly staring at his package. 

Geralt flashed him a wicked grin, pointedly returning the favour. 

Jaskier snickered as he turned back to the ironing. Enough of that, the man was getting shit done. 

Geralt was probably checking out his ass now, though, so he cocked a hip just in case. 

He heard a growl of appreciation behind him. 

Jaskier settled into a soothing rhythm pressing wrinkles out of Geralt’s shirts, taking extra care with the blue one that matched his eyes exactly. He listened to Geralt explaining in painstaking detail all the things that were wrong with a particularly crucial document. 

When the shirts were done, he hung them all in Geralt’s closet, pausing a moment to admire the carefully organized racks. He felt a flutter in his chest just remembering the way Geralt looked breezing into the coffee shop in those suits when they had first met. 

He put away the ironing board and iron, then, hands on his hips, he surveyed the mess of papers. He knew wouldn’t be able to help there. Instead he padded into the kitchen and filled two glasses with water. Sipping one, he carried the other over to Geralt, who looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Drink,” he mouthed, stealing another brief kiss before handing him the glass. 

He watched happily as Geralt took a few long swallows, then he wandered back to the kitchen to put away the dishes in the drying rack. 

He heard Geralt tell the person on the phone to hurry the fuck up and get his fucking shit together, then Geralt tossed his earpiece onto the arm chair and threw back the rest of the water. 

“You’re still up,” Jaskier said, looking at Geralt fondly. 

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, flopping down on the couch and picking up a stack of files. 

“Do you have much more to do?” Jaskier wandered over to stand behind him. 


Jaskier smiled, used to Geralt’s noises now, and gently placed his hands on Geralt’s shoulders. He smoothed his fingers over the tense muscles there, and when Geralt tilted his head and rolled his shoulders into Jaskier’s hands, he grinned and applied a little more pressure. Let’s make Big Scary Lawyer relax just a little.

Jaskier revelled in the small groan that came from Geralt. “Does this feel good?” he murmured, digging his thumbs in a little.  

“Hmmm,” Geralt rumbled, his eyes closing. 

Jaskier continued his massage, leaning over the couch so his hands could reach Geralt’s lower back.

Geralt allowed it for a few more minutes, then he reached for the stack of files again. “I just have a few more things to do.”

“Mm-hmm.” Jaskier slid his fingers into Geralt’s hair, lightly scratching his scalp. He frequently found himself wanting to run his fingers through his hair, but the urge usually came to him at inopportune moments. He really needed to remember to do this more often. 

“Fuck,” Geralt shivered. “You’re distracting.” He tilted his head back for a gentle kiss. “You should go back to bed.”

Jaskier kissed him again, tempted for a moment to show Geralt how truly distracting he could be, but he knew Geralt had an important deadline. “I’d like to stay up with you. Can I play my guitar for a bit?”


That was a yes. Jaskier grabbed his acoustic guitar from the foyer where he had left it and settled into the one armchair that was empty. He watched Geralt, absentmindedly plucking the opening notes to a few of his favourite songs. 

Geralt's brow was furrowed as he flipped through the stack of papers in his lap and pecked a few keys on his laptop. Jaskier never ceased to be amazed at how hard Geralt worked. He was dedicated to both the huge, multinational corporations his firm represented, but also to the regular people getting screwed over that he helped, free of charge. 

Jaskier loved the stories Lambert and Eskel told him about Geralt storming into a courtroom to slaughter some evil slumlord who was expecting to get away with their shit. Until Geralt arrived, that is, with his twin blades of justice and 'Oh no, you fucking didn’t try to illegally evict this single mother'. 

He seemed to only require a few hours of sleep, but Jaskier could see he was tired now. While he always tried to respect Geralt’s schedule and deadlines, sometimes he just really wanted to take care of him, help him unwind. The world would continue turning if Geralt Rivia got a couple extra hours of sleep. 

Geralt straightened his back and stretched, and Jaskier watched the muscles rippling under his skin. 

He smiled when a song came to him. He struck a few chords and began to sing. 

Something in the way he moves
Attracts me like no other lover

Geralt’s golden eyes flicked up to Jaskier.

Somewhere in his smile he knows
That I don't need no other lover

He put down the papers he was holding.

Don't want to leave him now
You know I believe and how

Jaskier felt the heat of Geralt’s gaze and was starting to feel a bit rubbery, but he closed his eyes and sang with everything he had in his heart. 

You're asking me will my love grow
I don't know, I don't know
You stick around, now it may show
I don't know, I don't know

Jaskier opened his eyes and saw Geralt firmly close his laptop. He stood up. 

Something in the way he knows
And all I have to do is think of him
Something in the things he shows me

Geralt prowled towards Jaskier. He couldn’t help but feel a little hunted. A flame flickered in his gut. 

I don't want to leave him now
You know I believe and how

Jaskier shrieked as Geralt leaned over him and scooped him up. Wrapping his arms and legs around Geralt's solid frame, he let his guitar fall into the chair. Jaskier was not a small man but Geralt carried him effortlessly down the hallway. 

Their lips found each other’s as Geralt walked, and Jaskier was once again overwhelmed by the love he felt for this man. Each kiss drove him crazy, every touch felt like fire. 

Geralt tossed him onto the bed, wrenched Jaskier’s shorts off, and his own boxers followed. Geralt crawled on top of him. 

“You...” Geralt whispered into Jaskier’s neck. 

“Are...” he breathed into his chest hair.

“Distracting,” he murmured into the crease of Jaskier’s thigh. 

Jaskier tossed his head back as Geralt’s lips closed over his hard length.

“Oh, fuck,” was all he could reply for the moment, but then his mind held onto a tiny, fleeting thought. “Wait, Geralt, wait,” Jaskier gasped, propping himself up on his elbows. 

Geralt paused and looked up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“I’m supposed to be helping you relax,” Jaskier insisted, breath already coming a little faster.

With eyes locked, and a devious glimmer in his, Geralt slowly, deliberately, dragged the flat of his tongue up Jaskier’s shaft, tongue swirling around the head for good measure. 

Jaskier shuddered.

“This relaxes me,” Geralt rumbled, lips quirked into a small smile.

“Well, fuck, go ahead then,” Jaskier said in a rush, head falling back onto the bed. He wove his fingers into hair the colour of moonlight. 

Geralt really was… something.