Yennefer leans forward, sloping her mouth to his, sliding her hand down his back and clutching at his flat ass. She smiles against his mouth as he parts his lips and bites; it’s his attempt to try and gain control, even if Jaskier’s hands fumble with the reins as he gently and all too delicately touches her hips like she’s made of the same wood as his lute.

But nothing will ever be as sharp as her teeth as she digs them into the soft pillow of his lip, drawing both a spot of blood and a beautiful yelp from him.