And Howl Your Pain unto the Moon

Part 14 - More than Okay

The next morning found them all tear-sticky and tired, but cuddling together on their bedrolls back where they should've been next to each other. They spent half the night just whispering apologies to each other for various reasons. Jaskier for jumping to conclusions, Geralt for making himself inaccessible for all those years before. After Geralt looked at the sky, which was just as sunny and clear as it had been when they left Yennefer, they decided to move the camp a little further into the woods and just rest for a day before the full moon came.

The touch was back, and it was such a blissful change, that Geralt couldn't help but lean into it every single time. Reaching out to put a stray hair behind the bard's ear here, pressing himself to his side there, inhaling the amazing, life-giving smell of tentative happiness. And of course, lust.

It was after they had lunch and they sat down, when Geralt, still relishing the regained closeness, somehow forgot about all of his inhibitions and just pulled the bard into his lap, back to chest, and ducked down to inhale right at the neck. Then he froze, opening his eyes, blinking at the deliciously blushing nape that was so close, the bard's heart beating furiously in his chest.

"So, you really do enjoy the cuddles," the bard laughed nervously, and Geralt embarrassedly began to release him, when the slender-fingered hands stopped him, and the bard leaned his weight into the witcher.

"No, don't let go," Jaskier murmured, and Geralt closed his eyes, breathing out in relief, before hugging the other man even more firmly. They better cuddle a lot before the full moon anyway.

...

The days were much longer now than in the middle of the winter, and when the full moon finally rose high enough to change Jaskier, they were both already restless.

Jaskier demanded that Geralt take at least the minimal precaution of binding him to a tree with some shackles, and while he refused to use the silver ones, after a bit of Jaskier's pleading, he did at least use the regular chains, even though the bindings were loose, ready for the big paws to fill them. They stood there, Geralt in his armor, Jaskier naked, awkwardly not looking straight at each other, when the moonlight finally showed up and Jaskier grit his teeth in preparation for the horrible pain he got used to.

It did hurt. He had to lean on the tree and then fall down to the ground, and he soon was gasping for breath, but when he finally found himself standing on all four paws again, he tilted his head in confusion. Was that it? He looked at the witcher, whose expression looked even more constipated than usual, and nodded at him, before sniffing at the shackles he was now sure he wouldn't need.

"It worked," the relief in the witcher's voice made him shiver and soon the man was there, kneeling, getting rid of the bindings, freeing Jaskier once again. As soon as it was done, the wolf stared at the witcher's face right in front of him, his pupils stretched wide and round in the darkness, and then licked right at his unguarded cheek.

"What the fuck, Jaskier?" the witcher spluttered, falling backward onto his ass as he tried to rub the slobber off, but Jaskier just yapped at him, as if laughing, and danced out of reach.

"Oh, that's how it is then, right," the witcher stood up again, voice low and growly, fangs bared in a dangerous grin and the werewolf felt a shiver of excitement up his spine. Then he howled loudly unto the moon and without stalling any longer bolted deeper into the woods, completely sure that Geralt would follow him. It was time to run with the pack after all.

...

Yennefer portaled into their camp in the early morning, just as they finally sat down again, both exhausted and dirty from the frolicking in the woods, but infinitely happier than in a long time. In fact, they were leaning into each other, Jaskier bundled up in a few blankets on top of his clothes, as the change left him more tired than he would wish to, and Geralt was overdoing it a bit with the aftercare, not that Jaskier minded.

"Oh my, look at you two. My teeth are going to rot," she drawled, but it was in such an obvious teasing manner that not even Jaskier could get all spiky about it.

"Witch, good to see you have missed me," he wanted to sound sassy, but in the end, it came out with a huge yawn, and he could see the corners of her mouth tick upwards.

"I take it everything went okay?" she asked and they both nodded.

"More than okay. You have been selling yourself short on the pain relief. It was so infinitely better than the previous full moons that I'm tempted to actually feel grateful to you, you hag," Jaskier winked at her, and she lifted one of her perfect eyebrows, playful little flames dancing in her eyes.

"You better, or I'll make sure to add some unpleasant side effect to the package the next time I see you," she retorted and he, he felt warm inside.

The witch didn't stay long after checking him over, saying she had some urgent business to deal with, but she left them with a bottle of supposedly revitalizing potion, and after Jaskier drank it, he felt all the remaining soreness just disappear. She and Geralt didn't talk much, but before she left, she kissed his cheek farewell, and Jaskier... Jaskier just smiled and waved at her, watching her disappear into the swirling chaos.

...

They arrived in Murivel two days later, both looking forward to seeing Eskel again, Jaskier squirming with nervousness about his lute. He hoped more than anything that the witcher managed to get her, that they didn't sell her in the meantime. He wouldn't blame Eskel if he didn't get her back, he would blame nobody but that fucker Marx, but it would hurt.

And so, when they walked into the tavern to see Eskel with the familiar shape by his side, Jaskier threw his hands up and ran to hug the witcher, crying, before he let the amused wolf go and fawned over his beautiful elvish love, checking for scratches, reassuring himself she truly was okay, if in dire need of changing the strings.

"I think the bard just left you for a lute, Geralt," Eskel chuckled.

"I've never had a chance against that one," the other witcher shrugged his shoulders, before sitting down at the table and drinking half Eskel's ale.

"Oi you fucker, get your own," he was smacked over the head for the crime but still smiled into the mug. It was so good to see his brother outside of Kaer Morhen.