doesntsing | open post

"Call me crazy if you must, but I believe that a person giving instructions is usually in charge."

He's happy to kiss her again, and when he notices that she's blushing, he kisses her cheek too. How can she be so sexy one second, and the cutest thing the next? "I'm glad you like it too. It's uncommon for women to interact with that side of me. They see it as less manly." He chuckles. "And you liked it when I called you a good girl. We're nothing but stage hoggers hungry for approval."

“It’s true,” she admits. “I love it when you call me that… when you praise me.” It’s still a little strange for her to admit that out loud, but Midge is getting very used to discussing her turn ons with Jaskier. There’s never any judgement from him whatsoever, and that makes her feel safe.

“I could tell that it felt good and ultimately that’s what this is about. I want to make you feel good.”

Her kiss is sweet this time, with a lot of emotion behind it. Having these sort of intimate moments only make her budding feelings for him swell.

"Another thing we have in common, then." He kisses her nose with a grin. "Happy to hear you confirm that. It means I can shower you with poetry describing how pretty you are."

And boy, does he have a lot of that. He's been with many lovers who enjoyed compliments in the form of poetry, but they often got tired of it after a while.

Her comment makes his heart swell, and Jaskier can't stop looking at her with adoration in his eyes. That's indeed what sex is about - making the other person feel good, and finding your own pleasure in that act. ...well, there's also feelings, and the fact that his crush is shaking with glee thanks to her words and this amazing kiss, but he is not supposed to be thinking about that tonight. That's what he tells himself, but he returns the kiss with as much emotion anyway.

He rests his forehead against hers when they pull apart. "You're right, that's what this is about. I love making you feel good, too. So never hesitate to ask me for things to try. Because that just now? Absolutely marvellous."

“I would love that,” she says with a sigh. “Even if I get embarrassed and tell you to stop… you shouldn’t.” His poetry is lovely, and she’d have to be a fool to tell him stop writing verses about her.

Midge grins and rubs her nose against his. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something before the night is over. You bring out my creative side, Jaskier.” Reaching down, she grabs at his ass. “You have a very cute butt. Watching your fingers go inside was so erotic.”

"Your wish is my command," he says with a grin before reciting. "Her laughter, a symphony of delight, / Echoes in dreams, igniting the night. / Her touch, a whisper, gentle and kind, / Leaves a lasting imprint on my mind."

That compliment takes him by surprise, and he beams. "Inspiring an artist's creativity is an incredible honor." He gasps when she grabs her ass, not expecting it either - again, she's being very daring tonight, and he loves it. The comment makes him laugh. "That's what years of walking get you." A wink. "Having you between my legs was amazing because I was pretending they were your fingers down there. Which is on the table if you ever want to try."

Midge smiles lovingly at him. “It’s amazing how you can come up with that so quickly.” Maybe he wrote it earlier and memorized it, but still. She’s terrible at poetry.

“I meant creativity in the bedroom, but now that I think about it, you’ve inspired my comedy as well.” She’s added in some jokes about the guy she’s ‘seeing’ and the sex they have. The blush returns to her cheeks when he suggests that she could finger him. “I’m not saying no…” she tells him, “because I like making you feel good. But maybe we can work up to that.”

Midge isn’t sure if she’s brave enough yet.

Gosh, she has such a beautiful smile. Jaskier can't stop himself from kissing the corner of her mouth, as if trying to taste the sunshine in that smile. "I actually wrote that one when I was in the backyard composing the other day. Remember? When you texted me for 'guidance'?" He waggles his eyebrows.

"Even if you'd meant only sexual creativity, I would've still been honored. I did notice certain new jokes in your act tonight, though. It almost made me hate the anonymity; you're doing wonders for my reputation." He smiles softly at her response, still finding her blushing adorable. "That's perfectly fine. We have all the time in the world."

“Oh really? All your poetry impresses me. I was always terrible at it when I had to write it in school.”

Midge snuggles in close, enjoying cuddling with him as always. She’s so glad that he likes it too.

“Should I call you by name on stage? Jaskier of Oxenfurt has been blowing my mind with orgasms?”

He would probably love that.

"Imagining little Midge trying to rhyme is the most adorable image." It's a tease, but he also means it. "Surely you did well in other areas of your Literature classes? You have a way with words, it just happens to be different from mine."

Cuddling is indeed great, and Jaskier's hand draws random shapes on her back while enjoying the closeness. Her being so petite makes her the perfect fit against his body.

That question makes him laugh pretty hard. "I wouldn't mind that at all." How could he? He loves attention. "Just make sure it doesn't trigger a series of events that ends with your father stabbing me."

“I did,” she replies. “I liked literature so much that I studied Russian Literature.” Midge shrugs. “It seemed interesting and I needed to pick a major.” She went to college to meet a husband.

A snort of laughter is given at that response. “He won’t stab you. As much as I’m sure you’d like the free promotion, I don’t name names onstage. It’s easier for listeners to imagine themselves in the position if there’s no name attached.”

People come to her shows for escapism, but they also have to be able to relate to her.

"Oh, speaking of Literature, that reminds me. I started 'Frankenstein' from your list. It's been wonderful." He closes his eyes as he concentrates to quote- "The world was to me a secret which I desired to divine."

He nods along at the explanation - it does make lots of sense, but he can't help wondering if that decision was also influenced by having to keep face with her family and social circle. "So you want your crowd to imagine themselves giving you those amazing orgasms? I see how it is." His tone is teasing. "Your father would totally stab me. Or cut my cock off at the very least."

“I’m glad you like it. It’s the first horror novel written by a woman.”

She laughs again. “No, I want to imagine that they’re getting the orgasms. Living vicariously through me, though honestly I’m not sure if they want my life.”

Midge takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Papa wouldn’t do either of those things. People aren’t like that here. If he cut off your cock, he’d go to prison. And I’d be really pissed.”

"Really?" His eyes widen. "That makes it even more special." He's glad to get to know something so important in art history.

What she says leaves him thinking for a moment. He squeezes her hand and rubs her knuckles with his thumb while deciding how to respond to that.

"...maybe your papa is not. I do admit I was going for a bit of hyperbole, although I do think he wouldn't like me very much." Thankfully, it doesn't matter, since they aren't in a relationship. Right? "But even if my world was worse, please do remember - people can be like that here. It's why Elftown and Rainbow Road exist. They're safe spaces."

“Well, yes, I didn’t mean to imply that there aren’t murderers here, just that Papa would not kill you for sleeping with me.”

Midge exhales slowly. It’s not like she hasn’t thought about the inevitable meeting that will occur if Jaskier comes to the wedding with her.

“You may be able to charm him, but I think the biggest issue my parents will have with you is that you’re not Jewish.”

Jaskier wants to explain that this isn't about murderers, it's about hate seen as the natural order. But then she brings up the Jewish thing, and it's his turn to sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

Right there, in the corner of the room, an elephant called Family Wedding stares at them.

"Of fucking course."

He doesn't say more. He should, because the silence is getting awkward. And Jaskier hates silence. Usually, he's a pro at filling them, but he still remembers their first lunch together, how she said that the only thing she asked for was respect. And honestly? Right now, he can't think of a single honest thing to say that won't start a fire. If the tension of the Wedding™ wasn't hanging between them, maybe he could've sailed through this more easily - it's like he survived court for years, after all. But he doesn't want his relationship with a beloved friend (a crush) to be like that.

"I'm getting hungry," he suddenly announces as he sits up, using the sheets to clean off the cum on his stomach. "We did let our genitals decide over our stomachs when we left the club, huh?" He's trying to joke, but he's obviously tense. "Something I love about this world is this whole take-out deal. Do you think there are flyers in the kitchen?"

“Jaskier…”

Midge doesn’t want to start a fight with him, but she doesn’t want to sweep this under the rug either.

“My parents would have no problem with us being friends, but I think they’ll be perceptive enough to know it’s more than that.” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter what they think. I choose who I want to sleep with. It’s not… this isn’t a relationship. It’s not as if we’re getting married.”

She stares at the bedsheets in silence for a moment. “They would like you if they knew you, Jaskier. If they saw how happy I am around you,” Midge continues quietly. “Even if they didn’t, it wouldn’t matter to me.”

Ah, it seems they're talking about this. Which is quite ironic of Jaskier to think, considering he's usually the one scolding Geralt for not wanting to talk about stuff.

Hearing her say how happy I am around you makes his heart skip a beat, the big traitor. Jaskier tries to concentrate on the other sentence before he does something stupid out of affection. She's right, they aren't in a relationship, so it shouldn't matter. And if this conversation had come up before her invitation, it wouldn't have been a big deal, but it doesn't hit the same when the elephant keeps staring at them.

He also notices that she thinks he's upset about her parents liking him, when what bothers him is the why. But like he already thought, there's no bringing up that topic without starting a fire.

Religion or wedding? Are those two truly his only choices?

Fuck.

"You think they'll be perceptive enough to tell, yet you still want me to be your plus one?"

“I don’t think we’ll be able to hide our affection for each other,” Midge says plainly. “Unless you want to pretend that you aren’t fond of me. We don’t have to be in a relationship for you to come to the wedding with me. I just…”

She gives a shuddering sigh, tears forming in her eyes.

“I don’t want to be the pathetic divorcee, not at this wedding of all weddings. Leah’s family has more money than ours and she never lets us forget it. I don’t want to go alone. I thought that maybe since it’s out in the Hamptons we could go to the beach the day before. We’d be in a hotel. We could sneak into each other’s rooms. You could charm everyone there. We could say we’ve been seeing each other, which isn’t technically a lie. I wouldn’t introduce you as my boyfriend.”

Midge pulls a tissue from the box on the bedside table and dabs at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to guilt you into it and I know it’s a big ask. You don’t have to answer me about it yet.”

Fuck, are they really that obvious? He supposes that with her being a close friend and not just a fuck buddy, the message does get muddled a little. The idea of him pretending he isn't fond of her makes his eyes widen and he finally turns around to look at her, clearly offended by the mere idea.

"I would never--" He freezes when he sees crying. "Fuck."

He doesn't stop to think, he just moves - he wraps a sheet around her body before dragging her onto his lap, hugging her tightly and rubbing her back as he rocks her. Everything she says does make sense, and his first instinct is to want to protect her from that awful fucking life, because he got to escape it, but she didn't.

Mainly, however, he feels like shit for making her cry. He's about to say that yes, he'll go with her, just to see her smile again. But when he's about to talk, she adds the guilting him line and Jaskier sighs. Any answer that gives right now will be 'tarnished' by this conversation, and he doesn't want her to think he's doing it out of pity - although that first thought was an emotional reaction, so she wouldn't be too wrong.

And isn't the fact that they're both having such emotional reactions in the first place another thing he needs to consider? This will be another week of thinking, won't it? Geralt will be reminding him to end it again, but how can he do that when she needs him so much? (Which is even more ironic, because that need may be pushing the boundaries they decided on.)

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, darling. Please don't feel bad, this is all on me." Well, this bit is. He does wonder if she can keep on handling their agreement, but he doesn't mention it - he tells himself it's not the time, but in reality, it's because he's afraid of the answer. "There's nothing wrong with your invitation, and I've never felt pressured by your questions. I promise. I was just--" Being a fucking bitch, like he's already warned her. "--trying to avoid the subject of religion. Somehow I made it worse. But it isn't your fault, I swear. I'm sorry I made you cry." He kisses the top of her head. "I'll have an answer by the end of next week, does that work?"

Usually, he doesn't like putting deadlines on feelings, but it'll force him to consider things seriously instead of ignoring the subject more.

There’s a little bit of relief when he scoops her up in his arms, as Midge thought he would get angry and accuse her of crying in order to guilt him into saying yes. It’s what Joel would do. She rests her head on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“It’s going to be a Jewish wedding, so that will be part of it too,” she says. “They might want you to wear a yarmulke at the temple, which is a sort of hat, but I can probably get you out of that. Nothing will be expected of you, I promise.” Picking her head up to look into his eyes, Midge brushes her fingers through his hair. “The end of next week is fine.”

Things aren’t just casual between them, whether Jaskier wants to admit it to himself or not. Both of them feel strongly about each other. They talk all the time. They go to each other’s gigs. The sex is incredible. It’s not a relationship, because they don’t want it to be, but it’s more than friends with benefits.

Midge is glad to have more, but she doesn’t know if Jaskier feels the same way.

Other lovers definitely pulled that trick on him in the past, but he can tell Midge is genuine about this. Jaskier doesn't want to poke at this subject anymore, terrified of making it even worse, but after he made her cry? She deserves the truth.

"I didn't mean the wedding. I can sit through a ceremony, that's not a big deal. I meant your parents not approving of me because of religious reasons. I tried to dance around that, but ended up tripping right into the wedding anyway." He kisses her wrist when her hand comes close to his face. "Although I suppose they're connected. It's fine if your parents don't like me - they aren't the first, they won't be the last. But it's not the same thing thinking about that in an abstract way, than having to consider it to make my choice. It adds... extra weight, if you know what I mean."

She nods. “Perhaps if you do decide to come you ought to meet them ahead of time. Then the weekend won’t be so awkward. They want to meet you, of course. The man who gave me enchanted flowers, who I made soup for, who I ran off to in the early hours of the morning.”

Midge kisses him softly.

“We don’t have to define what we are to them or to anyone. We’re friends who enjoy each other’s company and make each other happy. That’s it.”

Any pushing by her parents won’t be done in Jaskier’s presence, and she can handle them. She just wants his presence and his support at fucking Leah’s fucking wedding.

That list of actions makes his stomach turn. When she puts it like that, it's impossible for him to blame her for getting emotional over any muddled messages. How did they even get to this point? They've let the river of passion just push them with its currents without a lifejacket.

"...I'll keep that in mind." It's an honest answer. Meeting them in private means he can't lose them by mingling at a party, but Midge has a point: it would get every needed conversation out of the way. It wouldn't ruin the wedding.

It's hard to think when she's kissing him.

"You are a beloved friend of mine, Miriam Maisel. I hope you know that." He agrees they don't have to define this, but he wants her to know she can count on him, regardless of the wedding issue. "Even if tomorrow you choose to get married to that humble, cute shepherd from the farm, I'll still enjoy your platonic company."

A smile crosses her face and she feels relief, finally.

She gives a soft laugh. “Where on Earth would I ever meet someone like that?” She asks.

In her heart, Midge knows that Jaskier is the only person she wants to be with right now. No shepherds or big city businessmen are going to change that for her, at least not any time soon.

“Are you really hungry? You want to order some take out?”

Oh, thank the gods. It kills him to see her sad. He should answer the question, but he can't help himself and--

"You have such a pretty smile," he says before capturing her mouth in a kiss. It's a sweet one, just trying to be there for her.

"...actually, I could do with some food right now. We did left the club in a hurry. And we need to regain energy."

He winks before gently putting her down to leave the bed. Without warning or asking for permission, he opens the closet and finds two robes. Grinning, he throws one at Midge.

"We can wash them with the sheets in the morning. Your friends don't need to know."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(poem author unknown)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject