Alec would have thought that asking for things would get easier in time, and it has—it’s so much easier now—but it’s still not easy. “Could you keep my hands there?” Alec presses his hands deeper into the mattress to point out what he means. “With your magic, I mean.” Magnus arches his brow. “I didn’t know you were into bondage.” Technically Alec doesn't know that yet either, but he's very willing to find out. “I’m into you,” he says. “And your magic.”

“Dragons that lay eggs, are more properly referred to as Dragonkind. They grow to be ten feet tall, walk on two legs, are...somewhat humanoid, and they have a single sex.” “So the same dragon lays the eggs and fertilizes them?” “Hm.” “...I’m still missing something.” “Dragonkind need a host to incubate their eggs for the first few hours after laying.” “Ohh, so the sheepskin and hot water bottle is to keep it snug while you’re holding it against your chest. I see. Bit of a cuddle.” “No, Jaskier.” “...they lay the egg, and then you cuddle it, and they, er. Fertilize it while you’re curled around it? Bit sticky, still doesn’t explain the size of the reward.” “No, Jaskier.” Geralt added thoughtfully, after a moment. “And the one in this territory uses ‘he.’ Not they.” “He. Good to know. Well gods damn it then, Geralt, why don’t you explain to me in direct language where little dragons come from then?”