Chapter Text
Geralt shivered as Jaskier’s fingers brushed his neck. Those dexterous fingers tucked themselves under the collar they had placed there and tugged lightly. This was necessary, he reminded himself. This was absolutely necessary. He bit back a moan as the tugging temporarily cut off his air supply for just a couple of seconds, leaving him gasping. He quieted his breaths so human hearing wouldn’t pick up on it. In this position, Jaskier would be able to drag Geralt around after him, moving him wherever he pleased. Jaskier tugged gently at the collar again.
“Is that loose enough, dear heart, can you breathe?”
“Hm.”
His lack of breath was not from the collar, which fit him perfectly around the neck, but rather from the commanding presence in front of him. The leather collar had a silver loop attached to the front, which Jaskier clipped a matching leather lead to. Geralt almost fell to his knees in reverence right then and there. He stopped himself, just in time. This was just an act, he reminded himself, it’s only pretend. He doesn’t actually want you like this.
“Darling, I know your personal preference is to be taciturn, but I need you to use your words while we’re doing this. For me?”
“Y-yes.” Geralt whispered.
“Yes you agree?”
“Yes.”
“And you can breathe?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good! Thank you, sweetheart, you’re doing so well for me.”
Jaskier ran his hands up and down Geralt’s arms reassuringly, completely oblivious to the effect it had on the witcher. The whole situation was his own fault, really. He had been the one to insist on accompanying his vulnerable bard to Lord Harnhem’s estate. Then again, perhaps it was Lord Harnhem’s fault. The lord had invited Jaskier to stay at his estate for the season and, despite not particularly wanting to go, Jaskier had agreed to stay for a single week instead. He wouldn’t have bothered, but they had reason to believe that Lord Harnhem had information they needed.
That was when Geralt jumped in and insisted that Jaskier, sweet, unarmed Jaskier, not go alone into an enemy’s lair. Lord Harnhem wrote back to Jaskier’s inquiring letter to insist that no wild witcher without a human master would set foot on his lands. That was almost enough to convince Jaskier not to go at all, but they did need that information. It was easy to convince Jaskier to go, but it was harder to convince Jaskier to let Geralt come with him, when it meant Geralt was pretending to be his slave.
“Do you remember your word?”
Eventually the bard gave in, and used that opportunity to force Geralt to have several very intense conversations about what he could handle and how long for. He had even, after a very long argument about not needing one, agreed to choose a safe word. He had never heard of it before, but Jaskier insisted that it was common practice. Despite insisting that he didn’t need one, Jaskier told him that if he didn’t choose a word, he would just leave Geralt behind. He couldn’t risk that, so they agreed on “Posada”, which was easy to remember since it was the place they met.
“Hm. Yes.”
“Good, thank you for using your words, dear heart, now tell me your safe word.”
Geralt sighed. “Jaskier…”
“Not quite! Try again.”
“Is this really necessary?”
“Geralt.”
“Fine, fine, it’s Posada.”
“There we go, darling, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jaskier praised and Geralt felt heat stir in his belly. He glanced away, certain that a pink blush was beginning to stain his cheeks. A blushing witcher was surely a ridiculous sight.
Jaskier giggled nervously. “You know, this is a little different than any other time I’ve put a collar on someone.”
He felt himself fill with jealousy. Jaskier had collared other people? He hadn’t realised that Jaskier liked that sort of thing, perhaps liked putting his partners in collars as much as Geralt liked to be collared. It was a stupid thing to be jealous over, Geralt knew, since he didn’t care when Jaskier took a different partner in every town. Jaskier couldn’t help falling in love with everyone he met; it was just part of who he was. Besides, Geralt had no claim over him either way, as the only person Jaskier had met who the bard didn’t immediately fall into bed with. He didn’t blame Jaskier. Not even the most loving person in the world, which Jaskier was, could love a witcher, especially not the Butcher of Blaviken.
Still, Geralt wished for more. He wished that Jaskier would love him or, failing that, wished that Jaskier would fuck him. The bard flirted with him a lot, but he flirted with everyone. He didn’t truly want Geralt like that, which was obvious since he had never made a move on him. Despite his desire for Jaskier to take him, Geralt wasn’t envious of the attentions he lavished other people with. Usually.
Now he knew that the collar around his neck wasn’t the first Jaskier had put on someone and he wanted nothing more than to be the only one who belonged to the bard. He scowled at his own thoughts. He didn’t belong to Jaskier, no matter how much he wanted to. The collar around his throat, reminding him of his place, was merely a disguise, put there to benefit only their mission and not themselves. The lead held firmly in Jaskier’s hand wasn’t there because the bard wanted Geralt, but because Geralt had practically forced him into accepting it so he could accompany him on the mission.
“It does suit you, dear heart.” Jaskier nodded towards the collar. “Have you ever thought of adding a collar to your usual outfit rotation?”
Geralt growled in response to cover up a whine that raised up his throat at the thought of wearing Jaskier’s collar on the Path. Fuck, if he did that, everyone would know he belonged to someone, belonged to Jaskier. Even Jaskier would know that Geralt belonged to him.
Jaskier laughed. “Yes, I suppose that’s asking a little much of you, isn’t it, darling? Even if you do look terribly sexy like this. You’re already doing so much for this week, aren’t you? Thank you, dear heart. Now, are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” Geralt answered with much more confidence than he felt.
“Incredible. It’s so tame.” Lord Harnhem marvelled as he walked in a wide circle around Geralt, who stood stock still in the middle of the room.
“Of course, my lord, you didn’t think I’d travel with a witcher who wasn’t… domesticated, did you?” Jaskier trailed a finger slowly down Geralt’s face, goosebumps raised in it’s wake. Geralt stayed perfectly still and let Jaskier touch him as he pleased.
Lord Harnhem reached out to poke at him. Geralt snarled and snapped his teeth and the lord paled and jerked his hand away urgently.
“Best not to touch him.” Jaskier said casually, as though Lord Harnhem hadn’t just been in danger of losing his fingers only moments before. “He only listens to me.”
“Well, I never!” Lord Harnhem huffed. “Just make sure it doesn’t attack anyone important, or it’s gone.”
“Don’t fear, my lord, he doesn’t tend to attack without my say so.”
“Tend to?”
“Ah, well, accidents do happen.”
“I hope you have an appropriate punishment for it if an accident happens.”
“Of course.” Jaskier waved off his worries.
“Phew!” Jaskier flopped onto the large bed face first. “That man is exhausting. He talks more than I do! And he said nothing of importance the entire time,”
Geralt joined him on the bed; it was big enough and he wasn’t about to curl up on the rug like an actual pet, as he was sure Lord Harnhem expected him to do. He stroked his friend’s hair gently and Jaskier sighed happily at the touch before gasping sharply and sitting up. Geralt withdrew his hand, feeling dread build up inside his stomach. He had displeased Jaskier somehow, done something wrong.
He allowed himself to be manhandled into a different position, until Jaskier lay against the headboard and Geralt lay against Jaskier’s chest, with one arm wrapped securely around him and the other running through his hair. He sighed happily.
“You did so wonderfully today, darling. You’re so lovely for me. The first day’s down, and we’ve only got six days to go and then you’ll be done. Do you think you can do that for me, dear heart, just six more days?”
“Y-yes.”
“Thank you, dear heart, you’re so good for me. Here, I’ll take the collar off now-”
Geralt moved away from the reaching hand, which Jaskier dropped and wrapped his arm around Geralt’s waist again instead. “Is that a no?”
He shook his head and buried his face in Jaskier’s shoulder. Surely now the bard would realise how much Geralt liked having the collar on, how much Geralt wanted Jaskier to keep him collared permanently. He would realise that Geralt took personal advantage of the situation, as when he volunteered he knew it meant Jaskier would have to take care of him for an entire week. It was the only way Jaskier would ever even consider touching him like that, so Geralt had to take the risk and ask.
“Ah, I suppose you’re right, darling, better to keep it on just in case anyone bursts in here without warning. I’m sorry we couldn’t give you a proper break from it.”
“S’fine.” Geralt mumbled, not removing his face from Jaskier’s shoulder.
It was fine. It was more than fine; it was wonderful. All Geralt had done was follow Jaskier around as Lord Harnhem showed the bard his estate. Jaskier kept hold of the lead attached to Geralt’s collar, so the witcher had no choice but to follow on behind him. Every time Lord Harnhem looked away, Jaskier shot him apologetic looks and gave fleeting, reassuring touches to his back and his face. The one time Lord Harnhem caught Jaskier touching Geralt’s back, Jaskier covered up the reason by reaching down and squeezing Geralt’s arse. Geralt had jumped and squeaked in surprise before he managed to compose himself. He gulped and hoped Jaskier wouldn’t notice Geralt getting harder in his trousers as he thought about belonging to the bard.
Jaskier was still talking, so Geralt did his best to focus on his voice. “We just have to get through a very small banquet tomorrow and then the rest of the week, we only have Harnhem to convince that you’re a good boy-”
Geralt whimpered.
“Good boy?” Jaskier repeated and received the same noise as an answer. “Geralt, dear heart, was that a good noise or a bad noise?”
Geralt closed his eyes and sealed his mouth closed. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to confirm Jaskier’s possible suspicions that Geralt liked it more than he should.
“It’s alright, darling, you don’t have to tell me. Is it okay if I still use the phrase good boy?”
“… yes.”
“There you go, sweetheart, thank you so much for telling me. You’re doing so well for me.”
Geralt blushed and kept his face hidden in Jaskier’s shoulder. He didn’t see any reason to move, when his love was holding him like this, like he loved him back.