It isn’t the kind of work Geralt likes. He prefers, when he can, to leave his sidearm at home. He’s hyperaware of it in his shoulder holster. He also prefers the cases that require a little more thought than action, even if he excels at the latter. These people are clearly expecting action. Geralt smirks at the double entendre. As if on cue, a slap and a lusty moan can be heard from the next room.
In response, Geralt straightens his jacket and rolls his shoulders to loosen them. He takes another lap around the warehouse.
It’s late, and the place is poorly lit. If it weren’t for their excessive caution, bordering on paranoia, he would think the bad lighting or the neighborhood (by the docks, a bit run down) were the only reasons they hired the firm for security.
Vesemir had called Geralt into his office that morning. A woman sat across from him. She was striking, clearly wealthy, and it turned out, prickly as fuck. “Geralt, you have a job for tonight.”
Geralt opened his mouth to protest, but Vesemir silenced him with a raised hand. The woman inspected him. “You’ll do fine,” she said. Then she very clearly, pointedly looked at his dick. “And if it matches the rest of you,” she narrowed her eyes, seemed to find satisfaction, and nodded, “you can see about a little extra work, too, later.”
Geralt stood, silently, and watched her go. “Investigation?” he asked Vesemir.
“No. Just the guard work. They’re filming a porno in the warehouse district, down by the docks. Apparently, a rival studio has made some threats. They just want a lead guard to manage it, but it’s for the next two weeks.”
“Two weeks for a porn?”
“I don’t think that’s a relevant question.”
“Fine. Tell me about the threats.”
Made some threats, Geralt thinks. Sure. The pornographers already have their own security, who the woman, Yennefer, asked him to coordinate. He inspected the location thoroughly and stationed them around the perimeter to spot any entrances or exits. At first, he thought the warehouse must have a hidden studio space—something set up for filming, to look like a swanky house interior or a hotel room.
He was wrong. He needs to make another sweep, and it takes him back through the main warehouse.
Lights are rigged up, and there are multiple cameras, and all of it is fixed on a tableau Geralt will never be able to forget: a man, mid-twenties, brown hair, is bent over a crate, legs spread, getting absolutely wrecked. The other man in inconsequential; he’s wearing a mask like a balaclava, but is otherwise bland enough to ignore, despite being the one with his large (Geralt will admit) cock pounding the man at breakneck pace.
No, it’s the one being fucked who’s interesting. He’s taking it like he loves it, making little moans of pleasure, arching his back to meet the thrusts and offer more access. His performing name, Geralt learned earlier, is Jaskier. The other man has his hands gripped behind his back in an aggressive grip, and his other hand pushes down on Jaskier’s neck, surely almost choking him, holding him in place like an obedient toy.
Geralt ignores the twitch in his jeans. That isn’t what he’s here for. He does a visual check of all doorways.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” the man rasps. Jaskier moans in response. “That’s right you little slut, you take it.” He slaps him on the ass, and Jaskier’s moan is louder. Geralt can’t help but look back at the scene.
He finds himself looking directly into Jaskier’s eyes. They sparkle in the spotlight, and Geralt is frozen. One of Jaskier’s eyelids flutters, a subtle wink, and he groans, curving his back like he’s presenting to the guy. “Fuck,” the man groans, hips stuttering.
“Cut!” Yennefer calls. “What the fuck was that?”
“He clenched and it was… it was so tight…”
Another woman jogs to them with water, and Geralt forces himself to look away.
“Whatever, we need another angle anyway. Let’s ease up. Jaskier, are you up for deep-throating him now?”
“Yes, of course.”
Geralt hears the eagerness in his voice as he walks away.
He stays away for most of the night and lurks in the shadows when he needs to do more checks. He sees the scenario they’ve set up for the film. Jaskier is lost, and he stumbles into this abandoned warehouse. A man is there, inexplicably wearing a mask (Geralt chooses to ignore the logical gaps). When he asks for directions or a ride, the man tells Jaskier he can have them if he sucks him off.
Jaskier, it seems, is happy to comply. The next time Geralt walks through, he sees the compliance in action. The man grips his hair, pulling on it, fucking his face as Jaskier chokes and slurps.
Geralt stands in a dark corner and stares. He feels himself grow harder as the man pulls back, and Jaskier surges after him like he’s desperate for cock. He sucks on his balls, then takes him back into his mouth, swallowing down on it until his nose is pressed against the man’s stomach.
His own cock, Geralt sees, is rock hard and flushed. It bounces with his movements, but he doesn’t touch himself. He keeps his hands obediently tucked behind his back. Geralt bites down on his lip so he won’t groan. It's going to bruise. He tells himself to not get distracted. He makes his round like a checklist and gets out of there.
There’s more fucking. The next time Geralt passes through, the masked man is seated on a crate, and Jaskier has mounted him. He bounces on his cock, body writhing. He goes hard and fast for a minute, and then slows. His body moves like nothing Geralt has ever seen, and his face is rapturous. He can’t get enough of it.
Geralt can see the other man’s chest heave as he tries to hold himself together while Jaskier rides him. Jaskier’s mouth curves up into a little smirk, and he rolls his hips. The man taps on the crate a few times, and Yennefer stops the scene.
“Okay,” she says, “this time you’re going to hold him down. Jaskier, we’re going to do some close-up shots. I want you to looked scared.”
Geralt walks back out.
He’s completing another sweep of the parking lot when he spots movement on a nearby roof. He has his nearest man investigate, and he goes to the main entrance. “Possible movement,” he says into their earpieces. “All doors secure?”
They affirm, and he waits for word on the roof. It doesn’t arrive.
Ten minutes later, he queries the guy. “Rooftop status?”
There’s no response.
“Possible situation, we’re locking down.” He gestures for another guard to take the main door, and he goes to tell the film crew.
They’re filming the cumshot. Jaskier is on his knees again, thoroughly fucked out, as the man shoots thick white cream onto his face with a groan.
Geralt knows he needs to stop them and secure the area, but he can’t help but stare. Jaskier pants, and the cum drips from his upper lip. He laps at it with a pink tongue, and the camera closes in. Geralt watches him, transfixed, as he takes a finger, slides it through the cum, and licks it clean.
When Geralt tears his eyes away, he finds Yennefer watching him. “Yes?” she asks.
“Um. Uh, there’s a, uh, a possible situation. We need to secure the site immediately so it can be investigated.”
“Well, I can’t fault your timing. Let’s wrap, everyone. Do we have enough of the facial?”
The camerawoman nods. “Yes, perfect.”
“Excellent. You have five minutes to clear out. We’ll be back tomorrow.”
Geralt finds the guard half-choking on a ball gag with his hands bound by a spreader bar. “Did you get eyes on them?”
“He was masked and gloved. Male, medium height.”
“Fuck. Which direction?”
The guard points away from the warehouse.
Geralt nods. “Let’s get back.”
He has everyone escorted to vehicles by individual guards, and he watches the scene closely. “What about you?” a voice asks from behind him.
It’s Jaskier. His escort is waiting, irritation clear on his face. “Aren’t you going home? Or are you going to stand in the shadows and brood all night?”
Geralt’s lips part, but he can’t think what to say.
“It’s okay,” Jaskier says. He steps close. “I like being watched, you know, that’s why I do this.”
“You liked… all that?”
“I liked being watched. By you.”
Geralt feels his stomach knot.
Jaskier smiles. “I'll see you again tomorrow.”
Geralt waits until everyone is clear, and does a final check, pistol in hand. The guy is nowhere to be seen. Still, Geralt decides, something is going on. He calls Vesemir. “I’m going to need a team tomorrow. At least Eskel.”
“I’ll let him know.”
Geralt’s apartment is shitty and cramped, but it meets his needs. Tonight, that need is wi-fi. He puts on headphones. He types “Jaskier” into the search bar, and sees the list of results.
“Fuck,” Geralt whispers. He doesn’t want to click. It doesn’t seem right. Instead, he clicks on the production company and pulls up some of their other videos.
An hour later, he’s paid for access, and he has a beer in one hand and his cock in the other. He tries to focus on the blonde in the video, but instead, all he sees are Jaskier’s eyes staring into his. Instead of her cries, he hears Jaskier saying, “I liked being watched.” He imagines him whispering it in his ear. “By you.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Geralt grunts. He comes harder than he has in months. He comes harder than the last time he actually fucked someone.
It’s going to be a long two weeks.