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Your blood smells like the sweetest daisies (actually it smells of blood but I'm a bard okay)

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Of all the ways for Geralt to find out, it would be now. Jaskier had imagined him giving Geralt a heartfelt confession, worthy of a ballad; but fate had not made it so. He could taste Geralt’s blood in the air, tangy and sweet on his tongue. Almost all his concentration was now on keeping his fangs in. Geralt may be slightly oblivious but even he, in this injured state, would notice if Jaskier suddenly had a lisp and looked like a vampire (which he was). Well, higher vampire - same difference.


He was hunched against the wall of the small cave they’d been trapped in. Looking down at the ground in case his eyes would start to glow, which he’d been reliably informed they did when he was hungry, a trait not common in all vampires.

Each one had its differences it seems, Jaskier once knew one that, no matter what he did, could not recede his fangs on the night of the full moon, something his mortal wife found slightly distressing until Jaskier had woven it into a song about the curse of true love on teeth ( not his best work he had to admit) and she had forever smugly believed that her bond to her husband was far greater than any other she came across.


Geralt groaned and Jaskier could see he was stirring on the far side of the cave, Jaskier had strategically placed himself as far away as possible, even if that only meant a couple of metres. He would have to wait this out, he could do it. Probably. Admittedly he had not before gone three weeks without feeding but there had to be some good things in Jaskier’s life right? Maybe this would be one of them.


Who was he kidding Geralt was going to find out and probably chop his head off, whilst that wouldn’t kill him completely it would take a good few years to heal and he’d never travel with the witcher again. As shit conversational partner as Geralt was, he could still make the bard laugh with strategically placed “Hmm’s” as well as being one of the most compassionate people Jaskier knew. 

He was going to miss Geralt, and he wished he had thought about this before not feeding for three fucking weeks.


“Jaskier.” Great. Geralt was awake. Jaskier could only hope he was out of it enough to not notice anything.


Geralt made a groan which Jaskier deciphered as ‘ I’m in pain but I'm not going to tell you but help me please anyway’. Normally after hearing this sort of noise Jaskier would rush over to Geralt and aid him but now he knew if he got any closer than this it wouldn’t end well for either of them.


Geralt was obviously confused at Jaskier staying firmly at the opposite end of the cave and looked up at him. “Are you okay?” He sniffed the air. “No. I can’t smell any blood, you’re fine.”


Thanks for talking about blood Geralt. Really making this easier for the vampire currently deprived of it. 


“Hmm,” Jaskier said instead.


Geralt snorted. “I see why you hate that.”


Jaskier still remained silent. He feared opening his mouth wouldn’t help the situation. It was worse now Geralt was conscious and moving the injury around. It was like wafting a treat in front of a kid's face. Great - he’d just compared Geralt to a treat . Well, it couldn’t get much worse now, could it?


Geralt was fully conscious now, Jaskier could feel his eyes burning holes into his neck but he still didn’t lookup.


“Jaskier.” He repeated.


“I think I know my name Geralt.” He managed to get out. His voice sounded shaky and strained.


He risked a quick look up at the witcher to see the confusion and suspicion in his amber eyes.


“You look like shit Jaskier.”


“You on the other hand Geralt, looking fresh as a daisy.”




Jaskier couldn’t fucking take it. He needed to get out of here or he was going to jump on Geralt and-


Let’s not think of that or it will all too quickly become reality.


“We need to get out of here Geralt.” He managed to spit out.


“I know. Tell me what’s wrong.”


Jaskier had to keep his mouth shut now so he just shook his head.


Geralt started to crouch upwards as if to move towards Jaskier.


“Stop! Stay away from me Geralt!” So much for not speaking.


Geralt cocked his head. “Why can’t I come near you Jaskier.”


Jaskier’s mind was not at full bullshitting story capacity right now but he scrabbled for the first thing in his head that didn’t involve telling Geralt of his ‘vampirage’.


His brain felt so foggy, every other thought was ‘feed’ or ‘blood’ or ‘thirsty’. Really it was amazing he was able to speak at all. “Well, uh, you’re injured, um it might hurt to move. Or you could be...poisoned! You know I wouldn't survive that,” He tried for a fake chuckle but it came out more of a whimper “ so best to keep back right?” 


“I’m not poisoned Jaskier. Neither am I too injured to move. I’ll be perfectly fine in an hour.”


Geralt will be perfectly fine in an hour. Jaskier will be without a head.


Geralt continued creeping closer, the scent of blood driving Jaskier even more out of his mind.


“Please, stop.” He croaked out, head falling back against the wall behind him with a thump. Eyes firmly clamped shut.


He couldn’t see Geralt but he could hear every breath. Almost feel the blood trickling over his torso.


“Jaskier what the fuck is wrong with you.” He could hear the note of panic in Geralt’s words. What could he do? Comfort him? Tell him it’s okay, his best friend’s only been lying to him for twenty years. He’s probably about to drink blood from your neck before you inevitably throw him off and kill him? He could see Geralt taking that one well.


Jaskier could feel Geralt reaching out a hand. “Don't. Touch. Me.” He growled out. It didn’t sound completely human, because it wasn’t. Obviously.




Oh, fuck Geralt saying his name like he fucking means it. Fuck Geralt being here in this stupid cave. Fuck Jaskier’s fucking life. 


“I’m a fucking vampire Geralt! And I haven’t eaten in three fucking weeks because we’ve been run out of every town and there’s been monster after monster and no escape and I’m so fucking hungry. So if you could either get out or hurry up and kill me it would be appreciated because I don’t have a handle on it and you smell so good right now.”


Geralt looked dumbstruck. “All this time?”


“Yes. All this time. And I’m sorry Geralt but you must leave. Please.”


Geralt had a look on his face that Jaskier couldn't interpret (partly because of his dazed state but also the man could be such a fucking enigma). 


Geralt reached out a hand to lightly grip Jaskier’s jaw. “Feed on me.”




“I don’t mind Jaskier, we can talk this through later but I know you need it, and I’m here, so feed on me.”


Normally Jaskier would probably have stuttered through this surprise consent about ten more times but right now he was a little off his head.


Geralt’s hand moved from his jaw into his mouth and glided softly along his gum. His fangs slid out with a soft ‘thunk’. Geralt looked at them in awe and as much as Jaskier was enjoying this right now he kind of needed the blood. He grabbed Geralt's arm and with a show of strength Geralt definitely didn’t know he had, Geralt was now the one with his back to the wall. He moved Geralt's collar away from his neck and gripped his waist tightly. He lowered his mouth down to Geralt's neck and felt his fangs sink into the skin.


It was heaven.


Not just because he was starving (though that was definitely a factor). His father had always said that feeding on someone you loved was different. Jaskier had admittedly thought that was a sham as he had fallen in love with many a beautiful man or maiden and it had never felt any different. Geralt was different. It’s funny, the day you discover you’re in love with your best friend is the day he discovers you’re a vampire. Destiny liked to throw curveballs like that at him.


Jaskier's hand had moved from Geralt's hip in the time he had been pushing him into the wall. He could feel him, rock hard beneath his palm. It was the bite, vampire bites were a common aphrodisiac (unless the human was actually being killed). That was it. Geralt didn’t actually like him like that. The thought was enough to pull Jaskier out of the stupor he was in and pull his fangs from Geralt's neck. He let go of the witcher, head swimming and sank to the floor next to him.


What would Geralt do now? Jaskier had definitely overstepped his bounds with the slight palming through pants. Maybe he could blame it on being so hungry he briefly thought Geralt was someone in his bed? Would he buy that? Probably. He had thought Jaskier was human all these years after all.


He was about to express this sentiment to Geralt as well as a quick speech about being a good vampire who never hurt people and all that shit when Geralt seemed to wake up from his groggy Jaskier-induced high and reach across to place his hand on Jaskier’s chest. Effectively cementing him to the wall.


He opened his mouth, ready to talk Geralt into at least killing him nicely when Geralt put his other hand over Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier’s eyes widened in confusion.


“Before you start overthinking this, let me talk okay?”


Jaskier nodded. Geralt wanting to talk for once was a novelty he wasn’t going to throw away.

“Jaskier, I don’t mind you’re a vampire, well a higher one by the looks of it. I’m more than alright with it actually, it means you’re not going to die on me anytime soon.” He looked earnestly into Jaskier’s eyes and Jaskier had to fight the urge to kiss him right then. 


“Um, thanks Geralt, I’ll be sure to compose a ballad about this later but um,” He looked down at Geralt's thighs, “As we both have awkward boners it would be nice to carry on this conversation outside a cave we’re trapped in, hmm?”


Geralt had obviously gotten over his earlier bout of confidence in words and had reverted back to his ‘man of action’ stance. He moved so Jaskier was even further pressed up into the cave wall and pressed their foreheads together. “So are you saying you wouldn’t like me to kiss you now, Jaskier?” His voice sounded rougher than usual as if he really did want Jaskier.


Jaskier couldn’t exactly come up with the right words for the situation with Geralt's hot breath warming his cheek and glowing eyes fixed on his face, so he leant forwards and captured Geralt's lips with his own. No one could say he wasn’t opportunistic. Geralt seemed happy enough about that cupping Jaskier’s face with his hands and going at it as if they weren’t both over hundred-year-old men, one of them injured, trapped in an old cave.


So overall Jaskier counted his coming out as a vampire to Geralt a success. And if it now included the bonus of them having sex occasionally, alright slightly more than occasionally. Jaskier was fine with that too.