[ As Trevor sheds the more cumbersome parts of his attire, Geralt does the same. For him, it's just the baldric strapped across his chest that holds his swords, which he lowers to the floor beside the bed after undoing the buckle. After that he's all Trevor's, and allows himself to be tugged into his space.
He's really fucking glad he isn't wearing armor.
One knee settles between Trevor's thighs on the bed, nudging firmly and deliberately against the outline of his cock. Geralt balances himself with a hand settled on a broad shoulder, uses the other to slide rough fingertips against the the dark stubble on Trevor's face, meeting his eyes and finding them dark and wide. Geralt inhales slowly, can smell--practically taste--Trevor's arousal, and that pulls on something low and hot in his belly, tugs it loose.
Cupping the firm, sharp edge of Trevor's jaw in his palm, Geralt tilts his face up so that he can lean down to kiss him sharply, both more certain of this and more desperate for it than he'd expected to be. ]
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He's really fucking glad he isn't wearing armor.
One knee settles between Trevor's thighs on the bed, nudging firmly and deliberately against the outline of his cock. Geralt balances himself with a hand settled on a broad shoulder, uses the other to slide rough fingertips against the the dark stubble on Trevor's face, meeting his eyes and finding them dark and wide. Geralt inhales slowly, can smell--practically taste--Trevor's arousal, and that pulls on something low and hot in his belly, tugs it loose.
Cupping the firm, sharp edge of Trevor's jaw in his palm, Geralt tilts his face up so that he can lean down to kiss him sharply, both more certain of this and more desperate for it than he'd expected to be. ]