I – Silence
‚Love the way you sit in the corner and brood.’
Geralt didn’t look up. He wasn’t in the mood for talking to strangers. Not that he ever was.
‘I’m here to drink alone.’
‘Good, yeah, good. But what if I could offer you a little… cheering up? I’ll make you a very fair price, handsome.’
The stranger sat down at his table and forced Geralt to actually look at him.
He was cute.
And Geralt hadn’t had any opportunity to relief certain tensions for a while now, at least not with anyone. He did long for a warm body underneath his hands. Thoughtfully, he fingered his purse that lay on the table.
The stranger saw it and leaned back in his chair with a smug smile. ‘You don’t want to keep a man with a hard dick in his pants waiting.’
Geralt sneered. The audacity in this young man both annoyed him and made him strangely curious. So he tilted his head and finally decided to push a coin over to him.
‘Will you be talking nonsense all the way through?’
The stranger leaned forward again and winked. ‘I’m sure you’ll find a way to shut me up.’
The witcher felt his own pants tighten. Somehow, this man knew exactly how to play him. It was part of his job, sure, but it still made Geralt’s stomach tingle pleasantly. He couldn’t remember the last time a whore actually excited him. These big blue eyes paired with a mischievous grin and the sheer boldness of character made his heart beat just a little bit faster.
He grabbed his swords and got up.
‘Woah, careful with those things. That’s not what you’re supposed to stab me with!’ Suddenly, the stranger’s eyes opened wide. ‘Wait a minute… Two very, very scary looking swords? White hair, big old loner? I know who you are. You’re the witcher, Geralt of Rivia.’
Geralt sighed on the inside. That was that then. Who wanted to take the Butcher of Blaviken to bed? But the brazen young man didn’t even bat an eye. Instead he winked at Geralt once more and marched on towards the stairs that led to the rooms.
The witcher didn’t know whether to be impressed or offended by his nonchalance. What did it matter? As long as a he got some release… For better or worse he followed the young man up the stairs while he chattered continuously.
‘The name’s Jaskier, by the way. I watched you all night and I have to say, you do make an effort to appear unapproachable, don’t you? Anyway, I love a good challenge. I bet I can make even you lose your restrain.’
Without speaking a word himself Geralt pointed at the door to his room.
Jaskier pulled the door open and gestured for the witcher to step inside.
Geralt rolled his eyes at that, but followed orders anyway. The young man quickly slipped in after him, then he closed the door behind them. He draped himself against the back of the chair that was the only piece of furniture in this room beside the bed.
‘So…’ he whispered with a mischievous sparkle in his eye, ‘What’s your poison, big boy?’
Geralt put down his swords and started to undo the clasps and girths of his armour, trying to act as if that beautiful stranger didn’t make his cock twitch with the way he looked him over, with the way he jutted his hips forward and smiled sweetly.
There was a moment of confused silence as Jaskier tilted his head.
‘Yeah, don’t really go in for that. Have you ever been with a man before, Geralt? You wouldn’t believe...’
The witcher shut him up with a hungry kiss. That had been enough teasing. And yet, to his own surprise, he didn’t just want to throw Jaskier on the bed and be done with it. He relished in kissing him, in running his hands all over his body that felt soft and supple underneath his touch. Eagerly, he pushed the doublet from Jaskiers shoulders and tore at his shirt.
‘Hey, careful with that!’
The young man pushed Geralt away gently. Then, with a teasing grin, he slowly pulled his shirt over his head himself, unbuckled his pants and wriggled out of them with swaying hips. Geralt felt his blood rush to his face, felt his own cock pulse at the sight of the stark naked man. He bit his lip as he drank him in, before he dove forward once more for another kiss. But Jaskier stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest and backed off.
The witcher huffed. ‘I don’t have a turn. I’m the one paying.’
‘Come on, big boy. Do it for me.’
All he needed to do was bat his eyelashes and Geralt obeyed. He didn’t quite know why, but he put down his armour and pulled off his shirt and pants under Jaskier’s beautiful, watchful eyes. The young man nodded appreciatively, then sauntered over towards the witcher and traced his fingers tenderly down his chest. Geralt’s skin caught fire at his touch and a soft moan escaped his lips.
‘You’re beautiful,’ Jaskier whispered. ‘Do people ever tell you how beautiful you are?’
Geralt’s knees buckled as the soft words hit his skin first and made it tingle, and then arrived at his brain. Through his aroused haze he tried to remind himself not to trust pretty words, but they felt so truthful that it hurt.
He grabbed Jaskiers hips with both hands, a little to forcefully maybe, and flung him down on the bed, following suit, straddling his hips and going in for another kiss. He didn’t usually allow for that much kissing with prostitutes, but Jaskier’s lips were warm and soft and melded with his own perfectly. They tasted of raspberries and sweet grass and took Geralt to far away memories and places that had never been real.
As he felt fingers sliding down his butt cheeks, feeling into the rim between them, he jerked out of his blissful abandon. With a soft growl he grabbed Jaskier’s wrists and pinned them to the mattress.
‘That’s not what I’m paying for.’
The man under him smiled sweetly.
‘It might not be what you think you want, but it’s what you need.’
With surprising strength, Jaskier rolled them both around, so that he was straddling Geralt’s hips, thighs tightly pressed against his ribcage. Softly, he laid a hand on the witcher’s cheek and let his thumb trace his lips. Geralt wanted to pull away, or he thought he did. But being dominated by Jaskier like that lit a fire in his stomach he hadn’t known before. His cock pulsed almost painfully, rubbing against Jaskier’s erection that stood proudly between their bodies.
‘Look at me,’ the young man commanded and Geralt obeyed.
Blue eyes fixed on him and made it impossible to look anywhere else.
‘I’m pretty good at reading people, you know? And you, big boy, are always in control of yourself and of others, you always take care of everything, so that’s what you do during sex. It’s a habit. But what you really, truly need is for someone to be in control of you, for once, and to take care of you.’
He dipped his thumb into Geralt’s mouth and gently pressed down on his tongue, eliciting a surprised little choking noise. Despite himself, the witcher started to suck, still holding eye contact.
‘Yeah, there we go. Good boy.’
Jaskier’s words sent shivers down his spine. A small part of his mind asked himself how he had gotten here and what the hell he was doing, but his senses begged it to just shut up and let them enjoy this. Jaskier bowed down to kiss the side of his neck, down towards his shoulder and collarbone, biting the sensitive skin here and there, softly whispering ‘sweet boy’ and ‘I’ll take care of you’ and ‘you’re so beautiful’ into his body. His thumb pulled away, traced a wet line across Geralt’s cheek and pressed against his jaw from the outside. The witcher moaned at the loss, but quickly, Jaskier’s index and middle finger slid between his lips instead, pushed in deeper and made him gasp. It felt so good to have his mouth full like that, so so good. A hand wrapped around his cock and he jumped at the contact. He desperately bucked his hips upwards, wanting more, wanting release, but Jaskier went slow, so painfully, painfully slow.
‘Be good for me, big boy, be patient. I’ll get you there, don’t you worry.’
The fingers from his mouth withdrew and Geralt heard himself whine. He almost felt embarrassed, but Jaskier left him no space for that. Hungry lips pressed down on his own, then those fingers, wet with his own saliva, trailed along the outside of his hips and slipped in between his butt cheeks to circle the tight ring of muscle hidden there. Geralt gasped at the contact. As a single finger slid into him he forgot how to breathe. It felt so good and so wrong and so different and…
‘Shh. You’re doing amazing,’ Jaskier whispered. ‘I’m so proud of you, sweetheart, you take it so well.’
Geralt moaned and thrust his cock into the hand that held it tight. In response Jaskier ran his thumb over the head to rub small droplets of precum around it. The witcher writhed underneath him, wanting to beg for more, but not able to form the words.
Another finger slipped into him. Geralt grunted as pain seared through him that quickly washed away into lust. All he could do now was to feel, his mind had finally fallen silent.
‘You’re doing so well, my pretty boy.’
Jaskier smiled at him, and it made the witcher feel safe and taken care of and vulnerable at the same time. Without breaking eye contact, the young man bowed down and suddenly, wet lips locked around Geralt’s cock. The witcher groaned, he thrust upwards, he didn’t know how to deal with the sheer electricity that exploded through his body. He clutched at the back of Jaskier’s head that bobbed up and down, grabbed his hair and pulled at it.
While an expert tongue swirled around his erection, a third finger entered him.
He didn’t even remember words anymore, he just grunted something inarticulate. Nobody had ever made him feel such things, never had he been so utterly, so completely at someone’s mercy and had enjoyed it with every fibre of his being. Not knowing what was going to happen next was titillating in ways he had never known.
Oh, Melitele’s tits, he was about to come. His breath hitched, his toes curled – then his cock slid out of Jaskier’s mouth. Geralt groaned, but in truth he was grateful. He craved release, but he didn’t want it to be over yet.
Jaskier leaned down to kiss him deeply and he tasted himself on his tongue.
‘I think you’re ready, big boy,’ he breathed against his skin. ‘Do you think you’re ready?’
While Jaskier single-handedly fumbled with a bottle he had gotten from who knew where, Geralt nodded desperately, even though his mind, was foggy with lust and he didn’t quite know what Jaskier meant. The fingers slipped from inside of him only to quickly be replaced by the head of Jaskier’s cock that pressed against his entrance. Automatically, Geralt opened his legs wider to give better access. Jaskier moaned and pushed a bit more and slipped past the tight ring of muscles. The witcher gasped, his body shot up, and he pressed his face into the side of Jaskier’s neck.
‘You’ll be fine, sweetheart,’ he cooed, ‘just relax. I’ll make you feel so good, promise.’
He pushed a bit deeper in and Geralt hissed both in arousal and in pain.
‘Shh...’ A hand combed through his hair, a kiss was planted to his temple. ‘You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart. Just relax, let me take care of you.’
The witcher shuddered with pleasure, breathed in deeply to inhale Jaskier’s scent and allowed himself to let go even more. He felt so full and so good and he needed more of this, needed Jaskier to enter him even deeper.
The man above him groaned as he carefully pushed on. ‘Gods, you’re tight. You feel so good, big boy. I wish I could fuck you forever...’
He pressed all the way in, hitting Geralt’s sweet spot and the witcher came suddenly and uncontrollably, pressing his face up into Jaskier’s shoulder, clutching at his back. He bucked and writhed and panted as wave after wave washed over him. He had never climaxed like that before, never so intensely, so forcefully.
After he had regained a modicum of composure, his cheeks lit up bright red in embarrassment. Nobody had ever made him come so quickly, so beyond his control. But Jaskier just smiled and kissed his eyelids. He continued to fuck into him, slow and gentle.
‘You’re gorgeous, big boy. You’re beautiful. Look at you, all undone by my cock. So amazing.’
He pressed his forehead to the witcher’s, his movements became more erratic. He gasped and shuddered and suddenly, heat spilled into Geralt. He felt like Jaskier’s now, and that sent another wave of shivers down his spine. The young man collapsed onto him, slick and sweaty, and the witcher wrapped his arms around him to hold him tight.
They lay like that for a while. Geralt was too overwhelmed to even open his eyes, afraid that this moment might shatter into a thousand pieces if he did. He felt Jaskier move carefully, then gentle lips pressed down on his.
‘You’re okay, big boy?’
‘Anything you need?’
He heard a soft chuckle, then the warm body slipped from his arms.
‘As you wish.’
That made him open his eyes and return to reality. He watched Jaskier put on his clothes and suddenly, dread washed over him. How had that stranger been able to slip under all his carefully built defences in a matter of minutes? He had been careless, he never should have let it get this far. And yet, he had experienced things he had never known he could feel, amazing things…
As if he could read his mind, Jaskier winked at him. ‘Weird how we trust strangers with our darkest secrets, isn’t it? Don’t worry, sweetheart, nobody will know about this. I always protect my clients.’
Client. Geralt didn’t know how to feel about that. Relieved, for one, but somehow subtly disappointed, too.
‘Well then, I’ll leave you to your blessed silence.’
He slipped out of the door and left behind a very confused witcher.
II – Destiny
A few months passed and Geralt didn’t think about the encounter in Posada at all. Not even a little bit. His skin didn’t tingle when he remembered Jaskier’s touches and he certainly didn’t get goosebumps, when he replayed his whispered words in his head. Absolutely not.
Yet still, his breath hitched and his cheeks started to burn when he spied a familiar backside leaning at the bar in another tavern, in another town of which he couldn’t remember the name. His voice, that rang through the parlour, sent shivers down the witcher’s spine and made his dick pulse with pleasure. Geralt bit his lips in an effort to remain seated, to ignore the siren call of Jaskier’s gentle laugh, and failed. As if pulled by a string, he left his seat and walked over to the bar to lean on the counter right next to the young man.
‘Can I buy you a drink?’ he asked without really looking at him. He was afraid of what his blue eyes might make him feel.
‘My, my, Geralt of Rivia. And practically indecent.’ Jaskier grinned and pulled slightly on the collar of Geralt’s loose shirt. ‘Must be destiny.’
The witcher licked his lips and shook his head.
‘Yeah, you’re probably right.’ Jaskier smiled sweetly. ‘But what if you’re not?’
That really wasn’t a topic Geralt felt like talking about.
‘You seem to get around. Posada not lucrative?’
Jaskier scoffed. ‘Your lot hasn’t called dibs on a nomadic lifestyle.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I get bored easily and I won’t take the same client twice.’ With a wicked grin he looked the witcher up and down. ‘Unless I found them highly entertaining. So… You’re here to buy another round?’
It was a husky whisper that transported Geralt back to their bedroom in Posada and lit that fire in his stomach again that he hadn’t felt since. He swallowed hard, but tried to look uninterested.
‘You found me entertaining?’
Jaskier leaned in close. ‘Very,’ he whispered into the witcher’s ear and made his skin prickle. ‘You were such a good boy.’
Geralt’s cock twitched at those words and he clenched his jaw, trying desperately not to betray his arousal – to no avail. Jaskier tugged at his belt playfully.
‘Come on, then, sweetheart. Let’s not waste any time.’
As soon as they entered Jaskier’s room, Geralt crushed their mouths together, hungry for those sweet lips he had dreamed of ever since Posada. He pressed himself against Jaskier’s warm body, wanting to feel every inch of him. It wasn’t like he had been celibate since then, but this was something else. He felt like this was where he was supposed to be. Jaskier indulged him for a while, ran his fingers through the witcher’s hair, bit his lower lip, let him squeeze his ass and rub their erections together.
After a while though, he broke free, panting, cheeks flushed red.
‘Enough of that, big boy. Lose the clothes.’ Geralt obeyed instinctively. The second time around it was easier to shut down his brain and let Jaskier take control. ‘Slower.’ He smirked and slowed his movements, stripping down until he stood naked in front of deep blue eyes.
Jaskier nodded approvingly, then he closed the space between them to kiss Geralt’s chest. ‘My beautiful boy.’ His lips moved up to the side of his neck and then to his ear, leaving a wet trail on the witcher’s heated skin. ‘You’re so hot. I dreamed of you, my pretty boy. Did you dream of me? Did you wake up hard and wet and wanting? Did you feel empty without me?’
Geralt groaned as the words ghosted over his skin. That groan turned into a whimper when Jaskier grabbed his hip and shoulder, turned him around and shoved him against the door. His witcher brain rebelled, told him to react, to fight whoever had overpowered him like that. But he screwed his eyes shut and made a conscious effort not to listen. When a knee pressed between his thighs, he widened his legs willingly, when hands grabbed his hips, he allowed them to pull his ass backwards. Jaskier’s body was pressed against him. He didn’t know when the young man had gotten rid of his breeches, but suddenly he could feel his dick, slick with oil, slip between his butt cheeks and rub back and forth. A hand reached around him, grabbed his cock and pumped slowly, so, so slowly. The witcher closed his eyes, let all thought abandon him. The only word left in him was Jaskier’s name and he panted it in a needy voice he didn’t recognise as his own at first.
Soft lips planted kisses on his back, on one vertebra after another.
‘So obedient,’ Jaskier purred, ‘so pliant. Such a good boy.’
His cock slipped away and instead, both his hands grabbed Geralt’s ass, thumbs pressed into the rim between them carefully probing his hole.
‘I’m gonna make you mine again, sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you so good.’
A finger pushed into him and Geralt gasped, pressed his forehead into the door in front of him. He hadn’t allowed anyone else to enter him, hadn’t felt the amount of trust that was needed for anybody he had met. This was new all over again and yet strangely familiar. He knew how good it would feel to finally take Jaskier’s cock, how full he would feel, how loved. With a needy whine he pushed back on the single finger, but Jaskier caught his hips and held them still.
‘Shh, don’t you race toward the finish line, sweetheart, we’ve got so much time. You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you? I’ll make you feel good.’
Another finger entered him carefully. He hissed and immediately, the finger retracted.
‘Too much, big boy?’
‘No, please, put it back, please, Jaskier, please.’
Somewhere in a sealed away recess of his brain he felt embarrassed by his neediness, by his vulnerability, by his complete lack of control. But that feeling was vanquished as Jaskier complied with his desperate plea and stretched him open a bit more.
‘How can I resist you, when you beg so nicely, sweetheart?’
Geralt grunted and writhed, but every time he tried to push down on those fingers, Jaskier pulled back, coaxing another whine from his throat. It seemed to take forever until he entered a third finger, stretching him even wider, making him feel even fuller. His cock was so hard it started to hurt, he couldn’t take it anymore.
‘Please, Jaskier…,’ he pressed through gritted teeth.
‘Yes?’ The word was whispered hot and urgent into his ear. ‘You want my cock, big boy? You want me to fuck you?’
‘Then beg for it, sweetheart. You did it so beautifully just now.’
‘Please, Jaskier,’ Geralt breathed, his voice raspy with lust. ‘Please, fuck me, please put your cock into me. I need it, I need it so much, please, make me feel full, please...’
‘Very good.’ his hair was brushed to the side and a kiss planted on the nape of his neck. ‘I’m so proud of you, my big boy. Look at how far you’ve come, begging for my cock to fill you up.’
He grabbed the witcher’s hips tightly and pushed halfway into him in one swift movement. The air was knocked from Geralt’s lungs, he felt so stretched out and full and on fire. He wanted to push back, but was held steady with strong hands. Jaskier started to move, dipping deeper each time, until he was buried in him to the hilt. He started to move in a steady rhythm, in and out, in and out.
‘So hot, sweetheart, so tight. You’re amazing.’
A breathless chuckle tingled in his ear while Jaskier’s cock continued to move so slow it made Geralt insane with lust.
‘Want me to fuck you harder, sweetheart?’
‘Fuck, Jaskier! Please, please fuck me harder, please.’ He was barely keeping it together. ‘I need you to fuck me so much harder, please, please, please...’
‘You’re so hot when you beg for my cock, big boy, so hot.’
He gripped Geralt’s hips tighter and pounded into him, hard and fast. The witcher could barely hold himself upright, all this sensation made him limbs go numb. He couldn’t make a sound anymore, nothing was in his control, not even his vocal chords. Jaskier hit his most sensitive spot with every thrust, making him feel removed from time and space and himself. There was nothing but this sensation, titillating, all-consuming. He felt the orgasm building slowly, heat curling in his stomach and without Jaskier even touching his dick, he exploded all over himself, wave after wave.
Jaskier joined him, releasing himself into him, filling him up, until he sank heavily against Geralt’s back. He planted another kiss there, before he slowly pulled out. The witcher’s knees buckled and he almost slid down to the floor, but Jaskier caught him just in time. Geralt still couldn’t quite believe how strong he was. They flopped down on the bed, side by side, and Jaskier gave him a huge smile.
‘I have to say, you are really quite entertaining.’
Jaskier quickly fell asleep after that.
Geralt stole away with the sunrise. He left a coin on the nightstand for Jaskier to find – this was a transaction, after all, nothing more – and he slipped away into the dawn, scolding himself for the way he let himself go. He couldn’t afford to lose control like that, not ever again.
III – Charm
Sometimes, Geralt wishes, he could banish Jaskier from his memories.
Sometimes he wishes, he could recall every single moment of their time together, every little detail the young man made him feel, every word he whispered.
He dreads meeting him again and he dreams of it, over and over. He keeps to the less populated corners of the continent, but there aren’t many jobs there to be found and those he can reel in don’t make any money to speak of. Of course, as soon as he returns to the more civilized areas, they run into each other again, like the continent’s not big enough.
He sits in a corner, brooding, nursing his ale, when suddenly, somebody sits down across from him with a casualness that tells him who it is, even before he hears his voice.
‘Well, look what the cat dragged in. Haven’t seen you in almost a year now, Geralt.’
He looks up and the blue eyes hit him like a knife in the gut. A titillating knife, twisted with pleasure.
‘You’re wasting your time. I spent my last money on this ale.’
Jaskier makes a face. ‘Bad choice, darling boy, the stuff is wretched.’
Anger flares up inside him, anger he know isn’t fair. ‘Don’t call me that!’
But Jaskier doesn’t budge. He smiles softly, knowingly, then taps on the table. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to cool your head in this sorry excuse for a drink. There are clients waiting. See you around, Geralt.’
The knife cuts sharp as he saunters away into the crowd, out of the witcher’s sight. It’s better this way, though. Geralt has almost been tempted to let himself be seduced again, to surrender completely. Good choice, his brain says, but his heart does not agree.
He leaves the rest of the ale where it is and goes up to his room to lie on the bed and stare into the dark. Every time he closes his eyes, there is Jaskier. It isn’t even about touching him, about letting him fuck him, he just longs to be close, to hear his voice say his name.
A careful knock startles him.
The door opens. It’s Jaskier, of course. Who else would venture into a witcher’s den at this time of night?
‘Told you I had no money.’
The young man closes the door behind him and takes a few steps into the room.
‘Well, it’s you’re lucky day then. It’s buy two, get one free.’
Geralt sits up and puts his feet on the floor. ‘You can keep your pity.’
‘It’s not that.’
Jaskier closes the distance between them and edges himself between Geralt’s legs. The witcher tells his arms to push him away, but instead they wrap around his back all on their own. He presses his face into Jaskier’s belly that is on his eye-level now and feels him run nimble fingers through his hair.
‘Tell me you didn’t miss me, handsome. Because I missed you very much.’
Warmth seeps through the thin cotton of Jaskier’s shirt into his skin. He pulls him a bit closer while his brain tells him not be so goddamn clingy. Jaskier plants a gentle kiss on the top of his head.
‘You know what we have in common? Usually, we both won’t let ourselves be emotionally compromised by a job.’ He carefully backs away from Geralt, cups his chin with his hand and gently forces him to look up. ‘And yet here we are.’
He starts to stroke Geralt’s cheek tenderly and the witcher closes his eyes, leans into the soft touch, purring low in his throat. He feels a thumb slip into his mouth again, just like in Posada, when they first met, and he closes his lips around it automatically. His cock stirs.
‘You’re still my sweet boy, aren’t you?’
His walls crumble. He has been foolish to think that he could close himself off to Jaskier, that he could close himself off to all the complicated things he feels about him. Oh, and why should he? Why did he always have to overthink things?
His eyelids flutter open and he watches Jaskier as he nestles single-handedly with the lacing of his breeches to reveal his hard cock. The young man grips it at the base and while his hand on Geralt’s cheek slides to the nape of his neck to gently pull his head forward, the other directs his dick towards his mouth.
‘Come on, big boy, show me how much you missed me.’
He pushes his cock between the witcher’s lips and elicits a muffled moan. Geralt feels his mouth stretch, feels his breath catch as Jaskier moves inside him with a gentle thrust.
‘Gods, you’re even more gorgeous with my cock in your mouth,’ he whispers and Geralt looks up at him through hooded eyes. ‘You like that, don’t you? Good boy. Beautiful, beautiful boy.’
It takes a moment to get used to the fullness, but the witcher quickly learns how good it feels to suck on Jaskier’s cock, how it makes his own dick pulse in excitement. He learns how to elicit soft moans from Jaskier with the right flick of his tongue and it drives him crazy.
‘Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so amazing. Gods, even in my dreams it wasn’t that good. You love my cock in you, don’t you? Want me to go deeper?’
And Geralt does. He can’t speak, but he can nod slightly, and immediately, he feels how Jaskier slides his hand up to the back of his head and grips it tight, how his dick pushes down past his throat. He gags, his instincts tell him to back away, but Jaskier keeps him still with gentle force, doesn’t allow him to move and keeps on fucking his mouth anyway. It hurts at first, but that pain quickly subsides as Geralt learns to relax around the thick cock and turns into pleasure with every thrust. Jaskier goes even deeper and Geralt drools, but he doesn’t mind. His own cock pumps and twitches with arousal at having Jaskier so deep inside him, at being at his mercy like that.
‘Such a good, obedient boy you are. You’re doing so well. By the gods, you’re gorgeous, your mouth was made to be fucked by me.’
Jaskier’s voice loses some of its smoothness, his hand around the back of Geralt’s head starts to shake. Suddenly, he grunts and pulls out of the witcher’s mouth with a sharp hiss. Geralt goes after him instinctively, wants that dick back is mouth, wants to be fucked like this, but Jaskier gently catches him by the throat and gives it just the hint of a squeeze.
‘No, no, sweetheart, no. Don’t wanna come now, darling boy, wanna fuck you first, wanna fuck you good and proper. Get on your knees for me, come on, show me your ass. There we go. Good boy.’
Geralt turns on the bed eagerly and gets down on his hands and knees, while Jaskier already pulls down his pants and pushes his fingers in, two at once, in one swift move.
It hurts, but it hurts so good. Geralt moans and Jaskier pushes deeper.
‘Gods, look at you, so desperate for a good fuck, so needy. Nobody can fuck you like I do, isn’t that right? I missed you, sweet boy, I missed you so much.’
He pushes a third finger in already and Geralt relishes in the sharp, sensual pain it causes him.
‘Fuck me,’ he pants. ‘Please. Now.’
He is desperate. He needs a cock inside him or he’ll explode with unsatisfied lust.
‘Just a second longer,’ Jaskier breathes close to his ear. ‘You take me so well, I know, but even you need a moment, sweetheart.’
‘Please…’ Geralt sobs and he feels Jaskier’s whole body shiver as he does.
‘Melitele’s tits, Geralt.’
A hand presses against the nape of his neck and pushed him towards the mattress, so that his arms collapse and his face presses down into the bed. Jaskier’s cock slides into him, slowly, but steadily, until it’s completely buried. Geralt hardly catches any air, it stretches him so good, fills him, makes him groan so loudly, he is sure the whole tavern hears it. Tears stream down his face from pleasure, he clutches at the pillows with shaking hands, buries his face into them. Jaskier presses against him, digs his fingers deep into the flesh of his hips.
‘Fuck, just look at you, look what a dick does to you, sweetheart, you’re insatiable.’
He starts to move with sharp and quick thrusts, making Geralt whine with every single one. He finally grabs the witcher’s cock that’s swollen to the point of being painful and Geralt almost comes on the spot. Jaskier’s hand slides over it comfortably, wetted by all the precum, as he pumps in the same rhythm that he fucks into Geralt, hitting his sweet spot over and over and over.
‘You take me so well, sweetheart,’ he rasps. ‘You’re doing such a good job. Fuck, you’re still so tight.’ He thrusts into him even harder, panting, gripping Geralt’s cock even more firmly.
They come at the same time. Geralt spills over Jaskier’s hand while Jaskier pumps into him with desperate thrusts.
He collapses onto Geralt’s back and just lies there, catching his breath. After a moment, he pulls his hand from underneath the witcher’s body and moves it up to his lips. He pushes his cum-stained fingers into Geralt’s mouth and immediately, the witcher takes to them, sucking and licking his own mess from them languidly, humming little sounds of pleasure as he does.
‘My perfect, wonderful boy,’ Jaskier whispers right into his ear and plants a little kiss there. ‘I’m so, so proud of you. You’re such a good boy for me, letting me fuck you on both ends. We’re gonna do this again some time soon.’
He pulls out of Geralt and flops down beside him, running his hand through his hair, scraping his scalp tenderly.
The fog slowly lifts from Geralt’s brain. Leave, it tells him. You had your fun. Back to reality, back to the Path.
But he doesn’t. Instead he props up on one elbow and kisses Jaskier gently on the lips. The young man looks at him with wide blue eyes.
‘So, who’ll slip out of the room this time to avoid awkwardness?’
The witcher shrugs and stretches out on the bed. ‘I’m not going anywhere. That room cost me almost every coin I had left.’
‘Well, I’m not leaving either. It’s too freaking cold outside.’
‘I freeze easily.’
Geralt extends his arm a bit and nods at Jaskier. The young man hesitates, but then he slowly lies down at the witcher’s side. Geralt pulls a blanket over them both and tugs Jaskier a bit closer.
‘Can I…’ The young man clears his throat nervously. His voice sounds a bit shaky, very unlike the person Geralt has come to know. ‘Can I come with you tomorrow? We could share part of our way, couldn’t we? It’s always sensible to travel as a pair. Makes it safer. Yes?’
‘So that’s a yes?’
Geralt presses another kiss on Jaskier’s lips.
‘I’ll take that as yes.’
Jaskier smiles and buries himself deeper into the warmth of Geralt’s body.
‘Third time’s the charm,’ he mumbles, already drowsing of.
The witcher smiles in the dark.
Third time’s the charm, indeed.