Chapter Text
Unfortunately, there’s not enough time to move all of Jaskier’s things out of his apartment and into the house, their house, before they have to drive over to pick up Ciri from boarding school and then Geralt from the airport. Jaskier packs up a suitcase of his clothes while Eskel packs a few boxes of essentials, like Jaskier’s music. Jaskier snags his guitar and then they go drop it off at their house. Jaskier has enough time to unpack the sparse things he brought into the dresser that Eskel and Geralt apparently already had. Though Jaskier’s not entirely sure he believes that it’s just an “extra” since it matches the rest of their bedroom furniture and he’s never seen a bedroom set with more than two dressers. But, he doesn’t argue, mostly because he has no time. By the time he finishes unloading his boxes, they have to leave.
He feels nervous as they approach the school. Eskel’s words help the logical part of his mind to recognize that Ciri actively approves, but his heart still thuds rapidly in his chest. Ciri’s already waiting for them, bouncing excitedly on her toes, Dara beside her, waving his hands around as he talks about something apparently very exciting. Ciri grins when she sees Eskel pull up, and throws herself headlong into the car, barely waving to Dara. Jaskier gives the boy a wave, but he seems unbothered by the abrupt dismissal. It seems he’s very used to this.
“Let’s go get Dad!” Ciri points forward, like she’s directing them into battle.
“Buckle up,” Eskel reminds her. Ciri huffs out a sigh, but settles back, throwing on her seat belt.
“Jask, did you know that koalas have the smoothest brain in the animal kingdom?” Ciri asks, once Eskel pulls into traffic. “Apparently, they’re so stupid, they can’t tell the difference between eucalyptus leaves on the tree versus eucalyptus leaves on the ground, so if you put a bowl of eucalyptus leaves near a koala, it’ll starve to death!”
Somehow, it doesn’t surprise Jaskier that the most exciting fact of the day involves starving animals.
“I actually did know that,” Jaskier tells her, looking over his shoulder. “Did you know that koalas are so stupid they only eat eucalyptus, which is poisonous to them? Which is why all koalas have diarrhea.”
“Ewww!” Ciri laughs happily. Of course, the poop remark came from Jaskier. He’s an adult, but that doesn’t mean he has to act like one.
“Ciri, did you know that Jaskier said ‘yes’?” Eskel throws in his two cents.
Well, shit. Jaskier wasn’t going to be so… blunt about it.
There’s a moment of dead silence in the back seat. But only a moment.
Unholy screeches of excitement deafen both Eskel and Jaskier. Jaskier thinks about rolling down his window to let the sound go somewhere instead of just reverberating around them. Eskel lets out a sharp whistle and Ciri claps hands over her mouth. She continues to squeal, but it’s muffled now. Jaskier’s ears continue to ring for several moments.
“Finally!” She throws her fists up in victory and then scoots forward to wrap her arms around Jaskier from behind. “Yay! When did they ask you? Does Dad know you got asked when he was gone? Was it romantic? Are you moving in with us? Does anyone else know? Jaskier! Answer me!”
Jaskier’s too busy laughing his ass off.
Ciri keeps pelting him with questions, barely pausing long enough for him to answer before she’s off on another line of questioning. Eskel snickers in his seat, but gets very embarrassed and fidgety when Jaskier throws him headlong under the bus about not using his adult words to ask Jaskier, and instead pulling an elaborate prank to convince Jaskier. Of course, Jaskier is deliberately vague about the nature of the prank, but Ciri thankfully doesn’t push for more details.
Ciri’s mostly concerned that Geralt isn’t aware, but when both Eskel and Jaskier assure her that it was all Geralt’s idea, she calms right down.
They get to the airport and Ciri jumps out first, tugging at the trunk almost before Eskel’s got the car turned off. Jaskier knows the girl makes a sign for Geralt every time he returns home. This monstrosity is primarily pink, because Ciri thinks she’s funny, with ribbons and bows attached, and it says “WELCOME HOME, DADDY” in big, bubble letters. Ciri’s also scribbled a childish, stick-figure version of her family. She’s a fine artist in her own right, and she’s amused by the whole thing, which is really all that matters.
Jaskier’s heart stutters when he sees the family at the bottom of the sign. There’s obviously Geralt, taller than the rest with silver hair (“because white wouldn’t show up!”), golden eyes and a scowl. Ciri put herself directly next to him, a tiny figure with the same silver hair, but bright green eyes instead and a big smile. Eskel, based on the brown hair and scars, stands on Geralt’s other side with a slight smile, and then there’s a brown-haired, blue-eyed stick figure smirking on Ciri’s other side, holding her hand.
“I’m glad you said ‘yes,’ or my sign wouldn’t have worked,” Ciri notes, pointing at the Jaskier stick figure.
“How could I ever say ‘no’ to you, darling girl?” Jaskier asks, pretending he’s not holding back tears. He tugs Ciri under his arm and they follow Eskel into the airport.
Waiting is sufficiently boring, but Eskel timed their arrival well, so they don’t have to wait long before Geralt’s plane disembarks. Ciri holds her sign in front of her, bouncing on her toes, and trying to peer over the crowd to find her dad. Jaskier doesn’t know how anyone could miss Geralt, because he’s still utterly massive, tall and broad, though not as broad as Eskel, and his shockingly white hair stands out without effort.
When the seas part just enough for Ciri to spot him, she lets out an inhuman harpy screech and takes off at a dead sprint, flinging her sign away to get to him faster. Jaskier almost cries, seeing Geralt drop his bag to lift Ciri into his arms, hugging her tightly. Eskel puts his arm around Jaskier, which just makes the tears flow. Damn him. Jaskier is a romantic, of course he was going to cry at the reunion of father and daughter!
Jaskier leans into Eskel, while they watch. Geralt doesn’t move for several long moments, just hugging Ciri and pressing gentle kisses to her hair. Eventually, he sets her feet down and looks her in the eye. He brushes his knuckles along her cheek, presumably wiping away tears, and smiles, so soft and tender and Jaskier turns into Eskel’s shirt to wipe at his face. Because he’s not wiping his tears with his shirt. It is silk, and he wouldn’t dare insult the fabric so. But Eskel’s wearing a Henley, like normal, so Jaskier doesn’t feel so bad.
“Come on,” Eskel murmurs to Jaskier, bending down to pick up the sign and pulling Jaskier along until they reach Geralt as well. Ciri wipes at her face, furious for the tears, but she’s grinning so broadly it looks painful, and Geralt keeps one arm around her shoulders, holding her close.
“See? All in one piece,” Eskel teases, lightly, gesturing to both Jaskier and Ciri.
“Thank you.” Geralt tugs Eskel forward to kiss him, expressing as much as he can with the brief contact. Eskel sighs and they touch their foreheads together for a long moment. Jaskier all-but swoons. He’s seen this before, but it’s always so sweet!
“Jask.” Geralt turns to Jaskier, and Jaskier realizes that he does not know the protocol for this. Prior to being… what? Brought into their family or something? Before recent events, Jaskier would have hugged Geralt tightly. But now, he’s fucked one partner, with the other partner’s explicit consent, but still, and how does one greet the other partner?
Fuck it.
Jaskier flings his arms around Geralt with a bright grin. “We missed you! I’m so glad you’re home safe, darling man!”
Geralt’s arm releases Eskel and slips around Jaskier’s waist, holding him close for a lot longer than Jaskier’s ever hugged the man. When Jaskier pulls back, to grin up at him, Geralt leans down to brush their lips together.
Jaskier melts.
“That’s one,” Geralt murmurs.
Absolutely fucking awful. This man is going to be the death of Jaskier!
“You are horrid and I don’t know why I love you.”
Geralt huffs out a soft laugh and lets Jaskier step back.
“Nobody here believes you,” Ciri informs Jaskier.
“I know, it’s dreadful. I’m so trustworthy!”
Ciri giggles.
Eskel hands over the sign, because it’s for Geralt, and he has all the other posters he’s gotten on the walls of their garage in an eclectic collection, and then picks up Geralt’s bag for him. Geralt looks over the sign for a moment, smiling at the little stick family and squeezing Ciri tight to his side. They start walking out, Ciri talking Geralt’s ear off about everything he’s missed while he’s been gone. Eskel slides his arm around Jaskier’s shoulders and presses a kiss to his temple while they follow, listening to the cheery laughter ahead of them.
They go out to dinner, to Ciri’s favorite little diner, and they get chocolate milkshakes, apple pie, and an absurdly tall stack of pancakes for Geralt. Ciri despairs for his soul because he passes over the cheeseburgers for something as inane as pancakes!
Ciri speaks non-stop in a truly impressive monologue the whole time they’re at dinner, the entire drive back to their house, and all the way until she and Geralt are cuddled in bed, where she utterly passes out between one word and the next. Geralt falls asleep immediately after. The utter, disgusting cuteness. Jaskier now has diabetes and is going to die of sugar overdose.
Eskel laughs when Jaskier says this to him.
Eskel snuggles up behind Geralt, nosing into his hair with a sigh, while Jaskier curls up on Ciri’s other side. There’s enough room, barely, for all of them, but it feels exactly right, and even though Jaskier’s not the slightest bit tired, he goes to sleep, too.
The day after deployment, Jaskier knows from experience, tends to be boring as shit. Whoever just got back generally sleeps, wakes long enough to stuff food in their face, and passes out again. Sometimes into the food they’re trying to eat. As such, Ciri has prepared for this. By scheduling a spa day with her Aunt Yenn and Aunt Triss.
“You didn’t invite me?!” Jaskier gasps, mock-outraged. “My darling girl, I adore spa days!”
“Yeah, I know.” Ciri smirks, looking altogether too much like her father, and flounces out when Yenn and Triss arrive. They, too, know the deal about First Day Back From Deployment Stuff, so they don’t bother coming in. They’ll all probably stay for dinner when they get back; Geralt should be mostly conscious by that point.
“Have fun!” Eskel calls from the kitchen. He’s preparing for Day 1 Post-Deployment by cooking up some simple meals for Geralt to stuff in his face before sleeping again. Jaskier plasters himself against Eskel’s back, interrupting the mixing of the macaroni and cheese. Eskel chuckles and puts one hand on Jaskier’s arms around his middle, going back to his stirring. Jaskier presses a kiss to the back of Eskel’s neck and adores the way all the little hairs stand on end in response.
There’s a deep grumble behind them and they both look back. Sleep rumpled and utterly adorable, Geralt rubs at his eyes with his palm.
“You hungry, sweetheart?” Eskel asks.
Geralt grunts an affirmative and shuffles forward.
“I’ve got mac and cheese, hot dogs, cereal… what do you want?”
Geralt grumbles again and reaches out, snagging Jaskier off Eskel’s back to toss him over his shoulder easily. Jaskier lets out a squeal, completely undignified, but he was surprised, all right?! Wordlessly, Geralt turns and walks back to the bedroom.
“Geralt! What are you doing?!” Jaskier looks at Eskel, helplessly, but the man is doubled over laughing.
Asshole.
“Geralt!” Jaskier complains, and then he’s tossed onto the bed. Jaskier meets Geralt’s gaze and shivers at the unhinged lust in the man’s face. Geralt has never lost control before, and this is one of the hottest fucking things Jaskier’s ever seen.
“Yes or no?”
Jaskier blinks at the gravel in Geralt’s voice. “What?”
“Yes? Or. No?” He repeats, slowly.
Oh.
Oh, shit.
Jaskier sits up and starts scrambling out of his clothes. “Yes! Absolutely yes! Completely yes! Been waiting for this for years yes!”
“Don’t mind me!” Eskel calls from the kitchen.
Geralt growls wordlessly.
“You had your turn!” Jaskier replies.
Geralt growls again. Silly man.
“When you’re done with that mac and cheese, do come join us!”
Eskel grouses, but Jaskier can’t make out the words anymore. Geralt grumbles again in satisfaction, eyes roaming hungrily over the skin Jaskier has managed to reveal. His eyes, normally gold, are blown almost black, and he rids himself of his clothes with short, jerky motions.
“Dear heart, you can use your words, you know,” Jaskier teases, lounging on the bed, utterly naked. He’s not hard, well, not fully. That little manhandling did something, but he’s quickly getting there, just by looking at all the gorgeous pale skin. Jaskier’s seen some of the bruises left behind by Eskel and they’re glorious, standing in sharp relief and marking Geralt.
Jaskier wants to do the same.
Geralt grunts and crawls onto the bed until he’s kneeling directly over Jaskier, their noses almost touching. “Rather show you.”
Jaskier has utterly forgotten the context of those words, and his brain scrambles when Geralt kisses him. Yes, Geralt kissed him at the airport, but that was a peck. This… this is claiming Jaskier in the basest respect. Jaskier moans, opening his mouth with a sigh, but Geralt doesn’t immediately dive in. He tilts his head, slotting their lips together more thoroughly, and nibbles and licks his way around Jaskier’s lips.
Jaskier reaches up and slides his hands into the silky white strands. They’re as soft as he’s always imagined and there is no power on this planet that will keep him from getting his hands in Geralt’s hair at every possible opportunity. He pulls a little, trying to encourage more, and gets to taste that dark growl. Geralt kisses with all the intensity of his glower, and Jaskier gets light-headed immediately when Geralt’s tongue enters the fray.
Yep. There’s his erection.
Geralt shifts a bit and drops himself down, not pinning Jaskier, but still keeping them pressed together. Jaskier moans again when Geralt’s cock rubs against his own and his hips rock up in silent demand. Geralt leaves Jaskier’s mouth, much to his displeasure, but his lips trace the length of Jaskier’s jaw and then down his neck. Funnily enough, the opposite side of his neck from Eskel’s previous attentions. Jaskier tilts his head back and swears. Geralt licks a particularly sensitive spot near the base of his neck.
“Geralt!” Jaskier cries out, fingers pulling at Geralt’s hair when teeth enter the mix. Geralt growls again. It takes Jaskier a second, but he figures it out eventually, tugging harder on Geralt’s hair.
“Just like that, honey,” Eskel’s voice is soft, and Jaskier’s cock twitches at the knowledge that Eskel is there, watching. Jaskier peers over Geralt’s shoulder to see the man leaning against the wall, unabashedly naked and aroused and gods be good, that’s a glorious sight. “Geralt likes his hair being pulled.”
“You do, do you?” Jaskier teases the man who seems to be busy nibbling on the Jaskier’s neck. Geralt doesn’t respond. At least not until Jaskier pulls harder on Geralt’s hair. Then, the man’s body jerks, his cock rocking into Jaskier’s and making them both moan.
Eskel swears under his breath. Geralt continues his downward progress, fingers curling in Jaskier’s chest hair, sucking and biting his nipples until he’s very nearly thrashing in pleasure. Jaskier is relatively certain he’s talking, but he cannot for the life of him remember what he said. Geralt pauses, midway down Jaskier’s body, and turns to examine, in thorough detail, the handprint on Jaskier’s bicep. He huffs out an irritated noise and presses a soft kiss to the bruise.
What is with these men and apologizing for things that are not their fault?
And then Jaskier forgets his own name when Geralt closes his lips around Jaskier’s cock. Geralt’s hands are firm on his hips, preventing him from thrusting, but that does nothing to stop Jaskier’s mouth, which babbles when he’s not paying attention. Geralt, apparently, does not have a gag reflex, who knew? Well, Eskel presumably, but that’s absolutely beside the point because Jaskier is going to die. Geralt is sucking Jaskier’s soul out through his cock and Jaskier will never complain about Geralt being so quiet ever again, because dear sweet fucking shitballs he’s a god with his mouth.
“Shh… Breathe, honey.” Jaskier has no idea when Eskel got on the bed, but he opens his eyes, when did he close them, and looks up at the man. He keeps tugging on Geralt’s hair inadvertently, and Geralt seems to fucking love it, because Jaskier is going to come all over his gorgeous fucking face.
Jaskier is already struggling to breathe, but then Eskel kisses him and now he’s going to die. Properly die. Truly die. Because Eskel is quite literally stealing his air, and Jaskier will die fucking blissfully happy and he loves these men and has no qualms with the torture they put him through because they’re glorious motherfuckers!
The whining complaint out of Jaskier’s throat is utterly feral, and he glowers at Geralt when he sits up on his knees, apparently content to just torment Jaskier with the best blowjob on the planet but not let him finish. Nooo, that would be too easy!
Jaskier hates them so fucking much.
“No, you don’t.” Eskel chuckles, smoothing Jaskier’s hair out of his face. Geralt shuffles lower on the bed, getting Jaskier’s legs over his shoulders.
“You don’t think you two have tortured me enough?” Jaskier complains. A sharp cry tears from Jaskier’s throat when the flat of Geralt’s tongue strokes against his hole. “Never mind! Torture me some more! Torture is good, great even, and you two are absolute monsters, what the fuck is even happening right now?!”
Jaskier has no idea what his mouth is saying, but his mind is entirely focused on the pleasure rippling up his spine from the absolutely thorough tongue-fucking Geralt is doing. Not that Eskel’s any better, because he leans down to shut Jaskier up, tongue-fucking his mouth with the same precision of Geralt’s tongue in his ass, bless their sweet mouths, because Jaskier is in fucking heaven.
Jaskier squirms on the bed, trying to latch on to something, anything, to help him keep his sanity. Geralt’s hair is glorious, but fuck, so is Eskel’s, so Jaskier grabs ahold of both, getting a pleased moan from Eskel and a delicious growl from Geralt. Jaskier keens, a high-pitched, utterly pathetic noise, when Geralt’s hand reaches up and wraps tightly around the base of his cock, preventing any possible release Jaskier could hope for.
“Fuuuck you, you fucking prick!” Jaskier writhes around. His mind whirls around to figure out what exactly he wants, other than ORGASM NOW.
“Be nice, sweetheart,” Eskel chuckles a bit, pulling back to admire the flush on Jaskier’s face while his hands card through Jaskier’s chest hair.
“Can still talk,” Geralt points out, meeting Eskel’s gaze over Jaskier’s cock.
Eskel laughs, looking unfairly gorgeous in his mirth, and it successfully distracts Jaskier from the agony that is not being able to cum.
“If you’re trying to fuck me quiet, you’ll have to actually fuck me,” Jaskier replies, trying to sound prim and pompous and instead sounding whiny and petulant. Well, whatever. He’s a bard, but he’s only human. Not everyone can have the fucking ridiculous self-control these two men have.
“Hm.” Geralt sits back on his heels, eyes trailing over Jaskier’s body like he’s some sort of piece of meat. Normally, his eyes are a gorgeous gold, but lust dilated his pupils so thoroughly that Jaskier can’t even see the gold. Jaskier has never been body shy, but suddenly he’s feeling a little self-conscious at the sheer, indomitable focus on Geralt’s face. Geralt doesn’t look away from Jaskier as he holds his hand out. Eskel dumps a bunch of lube on Geralt’s fingers, already anticipating what he wants.
Geralt’s thorough exploration of Jaskier’s ass helps, because Geralt can shift from one finger to two rather quickly. Jaskier’s legs fall open, and his throws his head back with a moan. Somehow, somehow, this fucking asshole has such good aim that with one finger, he’s found Jaskier’s prostate. How is this man so fucking perfect at everything?!
“So annoying,” Eskel agrees, sounding a little breathless. Jaskier blinks his eyes open to look and sees that Geralt’s other hand is also buried between Eskel’s thighs. Eskel twists until he’s also spread out next to Jaskier on the bed. Right about then, Geralt thrusts his two fingers against Jaskier’s prostate and he forgets about paying attention to literally anything but the pleasure of being stretched. For how absolutely caveman Geralt has become, he’s shockingly gentle in his preparation.
Someone’s moaning and Jaskier realizes it’s him, and bites his lip to stop it. Eskel drags Jaskier into a glorious kiss before moving his attention to Jaskier’s neck. “Want to hear you, honey.”
“If I get any louder the neighbors will hear me,” Jaskier whines.
“Let ‘em.” Geralt’s voice has always been deep, and Jaskier’s had the pleasure of hearing him sleep-rumpled, as well as whatever the fuck sex god nonsense he did over the phone, but right here, right now? Jaskier can die happy. All the roughness from sleep mixes with the gravel from arousal, and he’s only said a handful of words this entire time, and Jaskier is going to cum if Geralt says literally anything else.
“Oh, you kinky bastard.” Jaskier rocks his hips onto Geralt’s fingers, silently demanding more. He stops breathing for a second when Eskel’s teeth enter the fray, worrying a spot on his neck that makes Jaskier’s cock leak. “I do not believe for a second you’d let our neighbors listen in.”
“You’d be surprised.” Eskel’s voice hitches when Geralt’s hand twists. “He’s kind of a slut.”
“My dear, sweet Geralt, I’m the slut in this relationship, and I will not have my good name besmirched by fucking hells, do that again.” Jaskier throws his head back when Geralt skips straight from two fingers to four, spreading him wide. His fingers rub against his prostate while his thumb presses to a spot just under Jaskier’s balls that he has, in all his infinite sluttiness, never found before.
Geralt’s eyes are blown with pleasure, and his chest heaves, just a bit, and fuck if he’s not the most glorious thing Jaskier’s ever seen. Nothing’s even happened to him and he looks a split second away from losing his shit entirely. It’s addicting, seeing the man so close to going fully feral just from pleasuring his partners. Jaskier should not, under any circumstances, be allowed to know this power he has over the marines. Unfortunately, they are stupid enough to just tell him, so now he knows. And he can, and will, abuse this knowledge.
Geralt likes giving pleasure.
Jaskier can work with that.
“Geralt…” Jaskier draws the name out with a long whine. He still has a hand in Geralt’s hair, gripping the silky tresses like a lifeline. He drags Geralt down to kiss him thoroughly, moaning unabashedly the whole time. If he also rocks his hips down onto Geralt’s fingers, well, that’s between him and Geralt’s fingers.
Geralt pulls back from the kiss, but touches their foreheads together, breathing hard and trying not to fall over, considering his hands are busy.
“Geralt, fuck me, please,” Jaskier begs, giving Geralt his biggest eyes, his most adorable pout. Geralt’s eyes widen and his whole body shudders. Well, shit. Apparently, Geralt’s not immune to Jaskier’s charms like he has pretended for the years they’ve been friends. Asshole. Absolute prick.
Geralt has to pull his fingers from both Jaskier and Eskel so he can roll a condom on and slick himself up with more lube. Jaskier still complains about Geralt moving so slow, but all that does is give the man a smirk and make him move slower, like an absolute fuckhead.
Geralt enters Jaskier slowly, almost slower than Eskel did, eyes glued to Jaskier’s face as he watches every little reaction Jaskier has to getting filled. Jaskier, for his part, loves the attention, though he’s far too preoccupied with the cock spreading him wide fucking open to preen. He wraps his legs around Geralt’s waist, trying and failing for force him in faster. Once Geralt is seated fully inside him, he stops moving. Jaskier swears, hands scrabbling for Geralt’s arms, hips, something to hold onto to try to encourage movement.
With a dark chuckle that goes straight to Jaskier’s cock, Geralt grabs Jaskier’s wrists and pins them to the bed above his head with one large hand. His other hand pulls at the hairs on the back of Jaskier’s head, forcing him to lean back and expose the long column of his neck. Jaskier feels utterly helpless and trapped and it’s delicious. Geralt better not do or say anything, or Jaskier will cum all over both of them like it’s going out of fucking style.
Geralt’s nose touches Jaskier’s neck and he breathes deeply, like a complete madman. Jaskier loves him, but Geralt is basically a step up from a Neanderthal like this. Jaskier tries to wriggle, to move, to get some purchase, but he can’t get any leverage. And Jaskier is going to murder the man if he doesn’t start moving!
Geralt chuckles again, because Jaskier’s babbling aloud again, and pulls back until only the tip remains. He presses a kiss to a particularly sensitive spot on Jaskier’s throat and slams forward so hard Jaskier fucking screams. Somehow, miraculously, Jaskier does not cum in an instant, but by fucking hell, he was close.
Geralt moves like that, slow but hard, thrusting with enough force that Jaskier goes sliding up the bed. Geralt releases Jaskier’s hair to grip at his hip, holding him steady while he literally fucks the air from Jaskier’s lungs. Jaskier swears with every breath, cursing Geralt and his stupid self-control and his gorgeous cock and his dumb beautiful face and everything in between.
“He’s still talking,” Eskel murmurs, sounding amused. Geralt hums thoughtfully, looking down at Jaskier like he’s not fucking his brains out. Then his hips gain speed. He’s not lost any of the original roughness, slamming forward so hard that Jaskier is seeing fucking stars. His cock is constantly rubbing against Jaskier’s prostate, and Jaskier is going to cum harder than he ever has in his life, sorry, Eskel.
“Oh, fuck you, too!” Jaskier manages to get out between thrusts.
“I’d like that,” Eskel replies, voice deep with want.
Oh, fucking shit.
Jaskier, in all his dumbassery, completely forgot that Eskel also has the voice of a sex god.
“I can imagine how pretty that’d be. You, fucking me, making me whine and beg and whimper for more. Geralt watching us the whole time.”
Jaskier’s whole body is shaking, trembling with the pleasure and the effort of not finishing, and he barely breathes, trying to hear every word out of Eskel’s lips.
“Maybe have him fuck you at the same time,” he continues, like he’s not scrambling Jaskier’s brain with his words at the same time Geralt is ruining him with his fucking. “Listen to you scream, desperate for a cock filling your tight ass.”
Jaskier’s keening again, a whining sound more animal than human.
“Have to leave marks on your pretty body. Let everyone know you’re ours.” Geralt sucks at that spot on Jaskier’s neck in response to Eskel’s words. Jaskier jerks. He has no idea how he hasn’t cum yet, because this is fucking glorious. “You are, right?”
“Yours,” Jaskier breathes out his agreement.
“Good boy,” Geralt rumbles in Jaskier’s ear.
Oh, fuck no.
Jaskier knew, he fucking knew, that Geralt’s voice was going to fucking ruin him.
Jaskier screams, his orgasm torn from his body almost painfully. The pleasure is so sharp, so bright that Jaskier can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t even fucking see. His vision whites out, fireworks blasting behind his eyelids, while his body convulses out of time or rhythm or anything. And still, there’s the ever-present assault on his body from Geralt’s cock. It’s overwhelming and overstimulating and Jaskier loves it.
Tears gather in his eyes as Geralt continues to fuck him through and beyond his orgasm. With a noise that’s completely feral, Jaskier leans forward and fucking bites Geralt’s collarbone, the closest thing he can get to. Geralt’s breath catches and his hips stutter to a stop, the tiny, uncontrolled jerks in perfect time with the throbbing of his cock within Jaskier. He moans out Jaskier’s name, long and low, and gods be good, that does things to Jaskier’s body that his body is not ready for.
Jaskier loses some time, because one minute he’s been fucked to zombie status, because his brain is definitely leaking out his ears, and the next, he’s being spooned by Geralt and kissed by Eskel and it is perfect. Eskel smiles when he meets Jaskier’s gaze.
“Back with us, honey?”
“I…” Jaskier tries to find his wit. “Am actually dead.”
“You are?” Eskel smiles, so fond and sweet that it’s giving Jaskier diabetes.
“Mm-hm.” Jaskier nods, attempting to bring his mind back down from Cloud Cuckoo Land and wrest his body back under his control. “Here lies Private Julian Alfred Pankratz, murdered by cock.”
Eskel snorts out laughter while Geralt just nuzzles into Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier can feel the smile on his lips, though.
“Good?” Geralt asks, softly. Damn these stupid, caring men with their stupid, caring ways.
“I’m absolutely perfect, dear heart.” Jaskier twists his head around to kiss at whatever part of Geralt he can reach. It happens to be Geralt’s nose, but he just smiles, and it’s disgustingly beautiful.
“Well, you fucked him good,” Eskel says. “He stopped talking in there for a minute.”
“I’ll have you know that being fucked speechless has never happened before,” Jaskier says, primly. “Our Geralt has a glorious cock.”
Eskel grins, altogether too knowing, probably because he’s experienced Geralt’s cock far more than Jaskier has. “That, he does.”
Abruptly, the hot Geralt-shaped person behind Jaskier moves, leaving him feeling cold and bereft. Right up until he sees what Geralt’s up to. The man climbs onto the bed above Eskel and manhandles Eskel until he’s face down on the mattress, ass high in the air. Eskel’s still looking at Jaskier, but his eyes have glazed over, not truly seeing anymore. Geralt’s hands pin Eskel’s wrists behind his back, and how is Geralt still hard?!
“Insatiable,” Eskel moans, long and low, when Geralt’s fingers slip inside his partially-prepped hole. Geralt merely grunts in response. Eskel blinks hard and looks at Jaskier, pupils dilated, expression a little wild. “This is why I need your help. He can fuck for hours. Utterly insatiable.”
Jaskier grins, leaning forward to give Eskel a frankly sloppy kiss. “We should see how many times he can cum in a night.”
Eskel swears, and Geralt groans, body trembling just a bit as he considers the implications of that. Only a moment later, both he and Eskel moan loudly as Geralt sinks inside Eskel. Eskel swears, eyes rolling back in his head. It’s unfairly gorgeous and Jaskier will not be moving from his front-row seat, no sir. Geralt starts thrusting, the same brutal and slow pace he used on Jaskier.
“He’d like to cum in both our mouths, I just know it,” Jaskier continues. They’ve tormented him for months with sexy talk. It’s time for him to repay the favor. “Just shoot his hot load right down our throats.” His words seem to affect Eskel more, but Geralt’s rhythm grows a little unsteady. “Then he’d do this again. Fuck both our asses until we’re begging for release. I’m sure your whining will be quite fetching, but my whining is full-on bitch-in-heat.” Geralt’s eyes turn to Jaskier, wild and desperate.
“Jask…” Eskel turns his face into the bed, whimpering and rocking back against Geralt’s thrusts as best he can. “Geralt!”
“Just like that, dear heart.” Jaskier’s no long constrained by his desperation for an orgasm, so he reaches forward and runs his hands along Eskel’s body, along Geralt’s body. Both men tremble under his touch, needy and frantic and gorgeous. “He’s fucking you so good right now, all trapped under him and begging pretty. You’re dripping, Eskel darling. Wish I could get my mouth on you.”
Geralt, of all people, is the one who swears at Jaskier’s words. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself to stop, which draws an inhuman whine from Eskel’s throat. Geralt pins Jaskier with his gaze for a long, hot moment, and Jaskier knows exactly what to do. He slithers down the bed and shifts his head under Eskel’s hips. Fucking hell, this is glorious.
Eskel lets out a scream of shock when Jaskier’s lips close around his cock. Geralt’s patience snaps and he starts fucking Eskel in earnest, his thrusts forcing Eskel deeper into Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier adores this. Eskel doesn’t last long, wailing into the pillow while his cock throbs and twitches, spilling down Jaskier’s throat. Geralt, having already cum once, does not last past the rippling squeezing of Eskel’s ass, and he chokes out Eskel’s name, shaking from head to toe.
It takes a minute for Eskel and Geralt to calm down. Jaskier wriggles out from underneath Eskel and flops onto his back, staring at the white ceiling. There are so many things he should be thinking about, but his brain is stuck in the loop of orgasm good, sleep now. Geralt pulls out of Eskel, making both of them moan, and ties off his condom, chucking it beside the first one. Jaskier completely missed when Geralt got the second condom on, but whatever. He’s been fucked senseless, he’s allowed to miss things.
Geralt drops onto the mattress, rolling to curl up around Jaskier, again. Jaskier snuggles back, enjoying this far too much. Geralt sighs after a moment and Jaskier feels a strong, warm hand touch his hip. Jaskier glances over his shoulder to see Eskel wrapped around Geralt. Eskel’s thumb runs hot circles on Jaskier’s hip while Geralt’s nose nuzzles into his neck. It’s adorable and Jaskier will cut anyone who tries to interrupt this.
“Fuck,” he says, eloquently, making Eskel snort and Geralt hum in agreement. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” Geralt mumbles, voice slurring a bit. Ah. He’s probably going to pass out, poor man. He shouldn’t have even been conscious, and here he is, having fucked Jaskier and Eskel into the mattress. They should probably clean up before Geralt fully passes out, since now the blanket is covered in sweat and semen and lube.
“Love you, both,” Eskel adds. Geralt sighs, sounding an awful lot like contentment, and Jaskier can feel the moment he falls asleep. Jaskier doesn’t want to move, but sleeping the way they are will just be messy and gross and sticky when they wake up. And besides, he’s not really tired, because he did just wake up a couple hours ago. It’s just his post-orgasm brain trying to convince to stay and bask and sleep.
Gingerly, Jaskier leverages himself out of Geralt’s arms and off the bed. He’s a little sore, but not nearly as bad as he could be. Geralt huffs out a soft noise of complaint and snuggles into the pillow. Gods be good, the man is disgusting. Jaskier will lay every dollar he’s got that only Eskel up until this point has gotten to see this. Eskel also heaves himself gently from the bed, trying not to disturb Geralt. They convene in the bathroom.
“We should clean up,” Jaskier murmurs, “I don’t think Geralt minds now, but he’ll be grumbly if he wakes up sticky and crusty.”
Eskel smiles and nods, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the thought. “First, let’s clean ourselves up.”
“Fair point, dear heart.” Jaskier presses a kiss to Eskel’s scars and goes about wiping himself down with a damp cloth. All things considered, he’s all right, though there is some cum in his hair from when he was sucking Eskel off, but that’s easily scrubbed out. Jaskier checks himself out in the mirror. Unexpectedly, the only marks he’s got are the bruises around his bicep from his father and red spots on either side of his throat that are going to be spectacular hickies in a few hours. With all the dirty talk he’s heard and the bruises he’s seen on the marines, he’s surprised that they left him relatively unmarked. He’s also amused that they chose opposite sides of his neck to mark. He’ll have to tease them about it later.
Jaskier follows Eskel back into the bedroom, where they both put underwear on. Jaskier knows the spa day will take all day, but he doesn’t want to chance Ciri coming back home and seeing all of them. With careful motions, Eskel and Jaskier get the blanket stripped out from under Geralt, who doesn’t even move. Jaskier gets the top sheet over Geralt while Eskel hunts down another blanket. Geralt snuffles into the pillow and Jaskier’s heart is going to explode from cuteness.
Absolutely fucking unfair. The man is gorgeous, sexy, confident, and also cute. Like, this is just fucking rude. Jaskier is supposed to the cute one in this relationship and here’s Geralt, just being fucking perfect.
Jaskier adores him.
Jaskier follows Eskel out to the kitchen again, to make sure nothing’s on fire or burned.
“So…” Jaskier’s not sure what’s the protocol for… well, this.
“He really is insatiable, most of the time,” Eskel remarks, digging through a cabinet to find some container to store the mac and cheese in. “I was going to try to warn you before he woke up, but… well, we see how well that worked.”
“He was probably planning this the whole flight back, wretched man.” Jaskier grins, sitting himself on the counter.
Eskel nods in agreement. “Most of the time, it’s me tapping out. I have no idea how he can just keep going like that. Not that he’s a brute or anything. One thing you’ll notice is that he asks if you’re up for it, every time. His libido is so strong, he likes to check to make sure you want it before he goes any further. And, you can always say ‘no.’ Like, literally whenever you want.”
“I doubt very much that will ever happen,” Jaskier replies honestly.
“See how you feel when he’s wrung three orgasms out of you in as many hours and is still going.” Eskel laughs. “He had sucked me off, ridden me to oblivion, and then was balls deep when I had my third. I told him I couldn’t keep going and he immediately got off and cleaned me up, still hard as a fucking rock.”
“That… is really fucking hot,” Jaskier admits. He was just complaining about Geralt’s self-control, but apparently it has its moments.
“He then disappeared into the bathroom for like half an hour. I don’t really remember how long, I was basically asleep at the time.”
“You think he’ll fuck me unconscious?” Jaskier teases, knowing it will definitely happen and happily looking forward to the prospect of trying to keep up with the inhumanly insatiable man.
Eskel laughs and steals a quick kiss from Jaskier. “We’ll talk when he’s actually awake enough to talk. I don’t know what else to say, but we should all be on the same page in this.”
“You and your communications skills.” Jaskier shakes his head fondly. “Making sure we’re actually clear about things. How dare you be so mature?”
“My worst quality,” Eskel agrees with a grin.
They both jump in surprise when they hear wordless grumbling. Geralt, bleary-eyed and scowling, shuffles into the kitchen, gloriously naked. Jaskier could get used to a view like this.
“Sweetheart, you’re supposed to be asleep.”
Geralt grumbles incoherently and snags Jaskier off the counter in a startling reenactment of earlier.
“Again?!” Jaskier blinks in shock at Eskel, who is dying laughing, yet again.
This time, however, when Jaskier’s back hits the mattress, Geralt simply curls up around him. Eskel’s followed them and he looks fondly amused at the foot of the bed.
“Am I just an overgrown teddy bear?” Jaskier asks.
Geralt grumbles and nuzzles into Jaskier’s hair, wrapping his arms tightly around Jaskier.
“I should have mentioned.” Eskel’s trying not to laugh too loudly and failing. “Geralt’s a little… cuddly.”
“Cuddly?” Jaskier scoffs. “This is full-blown touch addiction.”
Geralt makes a complaining noise and snuggles impossibly closer.
“Go sleep, honey,” Eskel chuckles. “You’re not getting out of there until he lets you go.”
Jaskier sighs in mock-exasperation, but wriggles to get more comfortable. “Fine. But I sing when I’m bored.”
“Listening to you sing is no hardship.”
Ugh. These men. Impossible.
“Sleep, sweet thing,” Geralt mumbles.
Jaskier smiles.
He loves these two fools.
FINIS