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Night had long since fallen and Jaskier still had yet to come to bed. They were spending some time in Oxenfurt as Jaskier had been begged by the Dean to teach for a while and there were several contracts within the city itself and in the surrounding areas. It was clear Jaskier loved teaching but it was just as abundantly clear that it was wearing on him. They had a beautiful house all to themselves but had yet to have any time to truly appreciate the luxury.
The Witcher rose from the bed and went to the study where the bard was hunched over his desk, scratching furiously with his quill by the light of a candle. The long days and spending so much of them writing and marking his student’s work had left his fingers stained blue with ink and new calluses forming beside the ever present ones from his lute playing. The Witcher tried his best to not walk silently, not wanting to startle the bard, but when Jaskier was focused like this it was like the world disappeared. The touch of a large hand on his shoulder startled the professor and only luck and long practice prevented there from being a skittered line across the page.
“Dearest, you startled me,” Jaskier said, laying his free hand over the one upon his shoulder.
“Come to bed Jask,” the Witcher requested, “it’s late, the work will be there in the morning, it can wait.”
Jaskier glanced out of the window and seemed surprised to find it as dark as it was. It felt like only a few moments ago he lit the candle for some extra light as the sun moved past the window.
“I suppose you’re right, I just wanted to get this done before classes tomorrow.”
“I know, but you’re going to wear yourself too thin. Come to bed, and maybe in the morning speak to the Dean about dropping or combining one class a week.” Jaskier nodded as he was capping the inkwell and setting his things away.
“You’re right darling, I’ll have a talk with him tomorrow.”
The pair moved to the bedroom where the Witcher helped the tired bard undress before both climbed into the large bed, where their third companion waited for them.
Geralt opened his arms for his returning lovers, and held Jaskier close to his chest as Eskel spooned up behind under the luxurious satin sheets. Both Witchers proceeded to run their hands over Jaskier, seeking any tension and rubbing it away, watching him melt into relaxation in the soft candlelight. Geralt paid special attention to Jaskier’s hands, the tools of his trades, whether that be teaching or crafting the latest fantastic music for a court or a tavern. He noted the new calluses and the ink stains, appreciating the marks as they demonstrated their time together in relative peace, but also looking forward to the day they fade again as it would mean Jaskier was getting more rest. He kissed the tips of each digit then laid each hand down, noting as he did so that Jaskier had slipped into sleep and was snoring softly into his chest. He pressed a kiss into Jaskier’s brow.
He looked up and caught Eskel’s eye, saying without words that he was grateful that he had brought Jaskier to rest and that he treasured their time here together in this place. Eskel gave a small smile, and leaned over to press a soft kiss to his mouth. They kissed gently for a time, then Geralt pulled away to slip into meditation.
Eskel watched his lovers for a while more, taking in the way their skin looked in the dancing light of the candle and clothed only in satin, no fresh wounds or bruising to heal, no signs of malnutrition or starvation as was so common on the Path. They were lush and healthy, the only sign of wear the bags under Jaskier’s eyes which would soon be lifted away if he and Geralt had anything to say about it.
As the candle began to burn down Eskel settled back onto his side, his head pillowed on Geralt’s outstretched arm and nose buried in Jaskier’s hair, his own arm laid over them both to cup Geralt’s hip.