Bard of Surprise

Part 2

It turns out Jaskier is great company-- when he's not doubled over in pain, at least.

Once he begins to warm up to Geralt, he starts talking non-stop; which is somewhat annoying, but also strangely pleasant to listen to.

Jaskier tells Geralt about his hobbies, his time spent at Oxenfurt studying music, and his dream to become a bard. He also seems to have endless interest in Geralt's life as a witcher, asking question after question about the beasts he's killed and the history of the Wolf School. It's honestly strange to Geralt that Jaskier could ever be interested in the details of his life. Most people despise witchers, usually the best you could hope for was toleration. But Jaskier, he seems to think that Geralt is some knight in shining armor.

All in all, Geralt wouldn't mind having more conversations with Jaskier in the future.

They've been playing gwent for just over an hour, pausing every ten minutes or so to quell Jaskier's cramps, when the fever starts to kick in.

Geralt can see it take hold from the way the younger man seems to slump further in his chair, only to be followed by a sharp spike to his scent. It sets Geralt's inner alpha alight at the prospect of being near an omega that smells so inviting and ready, his instincts coming on so suddenly Geralt barely has time to silence the low growl rising in his chest-- omega, take, fuck, mate, mine.

He gains control of himself moments later, and his composure moments after that-- he's glad for it too, he doesn't want any sudden reactions to spook the boy. Geralt calmly places his cards down. "Jaskier. Are you alright?"

"Geralt, it's-- I don't know what's happening, it hurts."

"Your heat has started," Geralt says, keeping his voice steady as he comes to the boy's side. "It's going to be alright, just stay calm. Do you think you can make it to the bed?"

Jaskier makes an attempt to rise from his chair, then hisses, teeth clenched and shaking his head.

Geralt cups the other man's face in his hands, gently guiding him towards his neck where his alpha scent is strongest. "Okay. Just breathe, Jaskier. Can you do that for me?"

The omega whimpers and buries his face in the crook of the witcher's neck and shoulder, mouthing along the skin as he heaves deep, gasping breaths. Geralt wraps his arms around the boy and lifts him out of the chair, then carries him towards the bed.

He lays Jaskier down amongst the pillows-- or tries to, rather, since Jaskier refuses to let go of him, keeping his arms taut around the witcher's neck and tugging him down. Afraid of squashing the smaller man with his weight, Geralt shifts them at the last second, so they're both laying on their sides facing each other. Jaskier makes a pained sound and presses himself against Geralt, trying to get so close it's as though he's attempting to fuse their bodies together.

"Shhh," Geralt runs a hand up and down Jaskier's back, quieting him. "It's gonna be okay. I'll take care of you, but we need to get you out of those clothes first, yeah?"

The omega whimpers, but nods, pulling away from Geralt and rolling onto his back. Geralt can already see him shifting uncomfortably beneath the fabric. Heat makes things feel very intense; it can be like war on the senses. The few omegas that Geralt has had the opportunity to partner with during their cycles all seemed to hate the feeling of wearing clothes once the fever kicked in, scratching and clawing at themselves like they wanted to climb out of their own skin.

Geralt makes quick work of stripping Jaskier of his clothing. The flimsy garments he'd been wearing are already wet with slick and sweat. Geralt tosses them onto the floor-- he'll worry about them later, once his omega is satisfied. Geralt then shucks the remainder of his own clothes.