Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Jask?”

Jaskier blinks his wine-hazed eyes at Geralt, a smile spreading across his flushed cheeks. “I love how you say my name. Your rumbly voice is all... rumbly. You know, Ger,” he hiccups, “you are very pretty. My pretty little wolf.” He pauses, staring off somewhere, a smitten softness caressing his features that glow in the candlelight.

Geralt can’t help but laugh, lifting his glass to finish the last of his wine. Placing it back on the table, he reaches out and brushes a finger across the pulse point of Jaskier’s wrist to get his attention again.

“Not sure about little ,” he says, shooting his fiancé a pointed look and a wink. “But thank you, love. You finished your wine? Shall we head home?”

“Oh no, definitely not little,” Jask grins, his eyes darting to the edge of the table by Geralt’s belt line. “Home sounds nice.” Hiccupping again, he tries to stand. Rising to his feet, he wobbles and promptly sits back down. “Head feels... legs don’t work... wine tasty but not good for walking,” he slurs, putting his hands up like a toddler wanting to be picked up.

“Come here, you drunkard.” Geralt smirks, leaning down and wrapping an arm under Jaskier’s armpits to hoist him gently onto his feet.

The restaurant is only a twenty-minute walk from their coastal home. They eventually make it there — though they stop briefly when Jaskier notices the full moon and insists on standing on the beach to stare at it for a while. It takes about forty-five minutes door to door, between the stumbling and moon-ogling.

“Straight to bed for you, my skylark,” Geralt says as he leads his very drunk fiancé toward the staircase. The pictures of them on the walls prove distracting, with Jask shouting his thoughts and laughing at the many memories decorating their home.

“Only if you’re joining me, big boy,” Jaskier says, attempting a wink but managing only a blink.

“Sure, darling,” Geralt replies, knowing full well that when Jaskier’s head hits the pillow, he’ll be softly snoring within seconds.

And after a bit of an ordeal getting him undressed, that is exactly what happens. With Jaskier wrapped in the huge duvet, Geralt plants a kiss to his forehead and heads downstairs. He pours himself a glass of wine, fills the cat bowl with some biscuits, pushing thoughts of their evening celebrating six years together, out of his head and plods to his office. 

Multiple monitors glow softly in the dark, lines of code and security dashboards already lighting up the screens. It’s going to be a long night. He hasn’t even logged in when a long meow sounds from the doorway.

“Hello, Roach. Come for cuddles?” he says, patting his lap.

The large ginger fluffball doesn’t need to be asked twice. She jumps right up, curling into a ball and purring loudly as Geralt strokes her head.

“Right, my girl — where did we leave off earlier?”

The ball of fluff replies with a quiet meow.

“Oh yes, of course. Thank you.”

~*~*~*~

Jaskier is rudely awoken by a strip of sunlight stretching across the bedroom from a gap in the curtain. He rolls over, grumbling, searching for the solid warmth of a man who is distinctly missing from the pile of duvets, pillows, and blankets. Opening his eyes, he practically hisses at the brightness, his pounding head reminding him just how much wine he drank last night.

Looking over to his nightstand, he sees the clock reads 10 AM. Next to it sits a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and some painkillers. Gods above, he loves that man. He will make sure to thank him properly later. For now, he must find a way to sit up without the contents of his stomach ending up all over the clean bedding.

He makes it downstairs by eleven, having washed the alcohol-fueled haze down the shower drain. It doesn’t take long to find Geralt — sitting where he always seems to be recently, behind the barrier of screens in his office.

“Morning,” Jask croaks as he walks past. “Coffee?”

“Morning, love. There’s a fresh pot ready on the side, and pancakes keeping warm in the oven,” Geralt replies.

“How are you so perfect? Did you work all night again?” Jask asks as he gathers his breakfast and makes his way to the office.

“Me and Roach worked until about three, then took a nap on the sofa. Didn’t want to disturb you — plus you were starfishing. Couldn’t get in there even if I wanted to.” Geralt says, flashing a toothy grin at him.

Jask is always floored by how handsome his fiancé is, and how lucky he is to call him his. His heart does a little jump at the thought and smiles widely, absentmindedly fiddling with his engagement ring.

“Promise me you’ll come to bed with me tonight. You need proper rest, my darling. I’ll even keep my hands to myself so I don’t keep you up,” Jask says with a wink as he walks over to the desk, leaning down and kissing Geralt softly on the head.

“Have you got to work all day?” He asks, his bottom lip sticks out in protest.

“I promise, and no, I got a lot done last night so I have some time,” Geralt says, leaning his head back and pulling Jask in for a proper kiss.

Jask’s world tilts — he nearly drops his breakfast at the little flick of tongue on his lips. Opening his mouth, he lets his lover explore. Geralt’s low rumble of approval sends skitters of electricity through his veins. 

Pulling away for a moment, Jask sets his mug and plate down and climbs onto Geralt’s lap, leaning in for more. They spend long minutes lazily making out, hands slowly exploring exposed skin, Jaskier's fingers tangling in Geralt's hair. He tastes like coffee and syrup, bittersweet perfection. Jask could do this all day, but they are rudely interrupted by the doorbell.

Geralt pulls away, picking Jask up by his ass, turning around, and plonking him in the chair. “Eat up. I’ll go see who that is and then I’ll be back for seconds.” Geralt’s eyes linger on him for a moment before he vanishes round the corner, adjusting himself in his jeans as he goes.

Jask gobbles down his breakfast and is sitting with his feet on the desk, sipping coffee, when Geralt returns. “Ready for more?” Jask says, rubbing himself through his thin linen trousers, cock throbbing and heart thundering in his chest.

“More what?” a female voice asks from just beyond the office threshold.

Jask nearly drops his coffee in his lap as he moves quickly to a less revealing position. 

“Hi, Triss! More... more coffee. You want some?” he says, getting up, grabbing Geralt’s jumper from the back of the chair, and tying it around his waist, to hide his very visible arousal, as he meets them in the kitchen.

“I’m only joking, you dork. I knew as soon as this one —” she gestures toward Geralt “—answered the door with his hair all stuck up in the back.”

Geralt looks mortified, checking his reflection in the oven door. “You could’ve warned me, Jask,” he says without heat as he smooths it down.

“What?! I like the dishevelled, sex-hair look on you. It’s hot,” Jask says, walking over to Triss and hugging her. “To what do we owe the pleasure, darling?”

“I was passing by and thought you might like to come round for dinner tomorrow. I know I could’ve messaged, but I wanted to see your lovely faces. Sorry I interrupted, I should’ve called,” Triss stumbles, her hands interlocking in front of her.

“Please, darling — don’t worry about it. We have the rest of our lives to fuck in his office chair.”

“Jask!” Geralt exclaims, a mix of exasperation and lingering lust on his face.

“What?! She knows what we were doing. I’m just saying it like it is,” Jaskier laughs, Triss and Geralt join him.

“Dinner at yours tomorrow sounds wonderful, Triss. We’ll bring wine and dessert. Geralt can make his famous rhubarb crumble, can’t you, darling?”

“Sure, my love. You don’t happen to have any rhubarb, do you, Triss?” Geralt chuckles, shaking his head slightly at Jaskier.

“Oh, I actually do! Picked some fresh from the garden this morning. Come pick it up whenever — I’m going straight home after here.”

“Perfect,” Jaskier beams. “We’ll be over this afternoon.”

~*~*~*~

The three of them sit at the breakfast bar, drinking and chatting about life for an hour before Triss leaves.

“See you in a bit. Around six tomorrow if that works for you both?” Triss says with a smile.

“Sounds great,” Geralt says, showing her out. “I’ll pop round later — need to grab some bits from the village shop too, as I’m out of brown sugar. I swear, Jask has no idea that baking requires ingredients.” They both laugh and hug goodbye.

Walking back to the kitchen, Geralt peers into the office. Jask is lying on the floor in the middle of the room. Roach jumps over him, running around chasing a feather on a string. Jask wears the biggest grin on his face, eyes closed from laughing.

Geralt stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching. His heart is so full—this man brings so much joy into his otherwise mundane life.

“How can you possibly make standing in a door frame look so hot?” Jaskier grins, dragging a hand slowly down his torso, eyes gleaming with mischief. His palm ghosts over the growing bulge in his trousers. “Honestly, it’s no wonder I get nothing done with you around to ogle all day. How does continuing our earlier activities sound?”

“Get your ass upstairs. Now.” Geralt’s voice is a low growl, heavy with need.

Jaskier doesn’t need telling twice. He bolts, bare feet light on the stairs, hips swaying in a way that’s downright hypnotic. Geralt follows, eyes fixed to that perfect ass, his own body already humming with anticipation.

They barely make it to the landing before Geralt has Jask pressed to the wall. Hands pinned above his head, curls spilling into bright blue eyes blown wide with lust. Geralt’s hands slip beneath his shirt, skimming over warm, toned skin, teasing both nipples until they pebble beneath his thumbs.

“So fucking beautiful,” Geralt breathes into his ear before nipping at the lobe and pressing hot kisses down the curve of his neck. Jaskier gasps, writhing between him and the wall, desperate for friction, hips rocking shamelessly.

“Ger…” Jaskier sighs, voice breathy and wrecked already. “Gods above, how do you make me this needy so fast? It’s not fair.”

“What do you need, Skylark?” Geralt murmurs, taking one of Jaskier’s hands and guiding it down to press against the thick ridge of his cock. “This? Want me to make you feel better with this?”

“Fuck yes. More than anything,” Jaskier groans, palming him through his jeans, his touch slow, reverent.

A low growl rumbles in Geralt’s chest. He lifts Jask effortlessly, legs wrapping around his waist as their mouths crash together. Tongues tangle and teeth clash, all heat and hunger as Geralt carries them to the bedroom, Jaskier’s fingers tangle in his hair, nails dragging delicious lines across his scalp.

In the bedroom, Geralt lays him down on the bed without breaking the kiss. Jaskier's hands roam everywhere, pushing up his shirt to run soft fingers over abs and pecs, every brush setting Geralt's nerves alight.

They pull back just long enough to strip. Geralt tugs his shirt over his head, discards it, and helps Jaskier do the same. Their clothes land in a heap, forgotten. Geralt’s cock is aching, straining against denim, and Jaskier is already reaching, nimble fingers making quick work of the button and zipper.

“That cannot be comfortable, darling,” Jask says with a wicked grin. “Take them off. Let me see that perfect cock.”

Geralt steps back, stripping quickly. His cock springs free and Jaskier’s eyes go wide, full of desire.

“There he is,” he croons.

“You’re obsessed,” Geralt says as he huffs a laugh.

“Oh, that isn’t even up for debate, my love. This cock is the thing my dreams are made of,” Jaskier sighs dramatically.

“You’re ridiculous,” Geralt says, warmth pooling low in his belly, “and it only makes me love you more.”

“Good. Because I’ll never shut up about it.” Jaskier’s voice drops an octave, filthy and soft. “Now bring it here so I can taste you.”

Geralt doesn’t need further coaxing. He steps to the edge of the bed and Jaskier wastes no time, wrapping his lips around the head of his cock. Geralt moans, one hand flying to Jaskier’s shoulder to keep himself steady.

“Obsessed,” he repeats, though it’s barely a whisper now, all thought evaporating as Jaskier takes him deeper.

Jaskier’s mouth is heaven, hot and wet and skilled. He licks and sucks with practiced precision, hollowing his cheeks just the way Geralt likes. His other hand cups Geralt’s balls, adding just the right amount of pressure. Sparks skitter down Geralt’s spine, his thighs tremble, and his knees threaten to buckle.

“Fuck,” he groans, head dropping back as pleasure overtakes him. Jaskier doesn't let up, his throat flexing beautifully around the thick length of Geralt’s cock.

It’s too much—and not nearly enough.

Geralt threads his fingers into Jask’s curls and tugs gently, not to stop him but to anchor himself, to remind himself he’s still grounded. Jaskier moans around him, the vibration shooting straight to his core.

“Jask…” he warns, breathless. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come.”

Jaskier hums around him, not stopping for a second. And Geralt, already ruined, lets him.

Geralt groans low in his throat as Jaskier deepthroats him, but he pulls back before the edge crests. His hands are gentle as he cups Jaskier’s cheeks, lifting him off with care even as his cock throbs in protest.

“Not yet,” he rasps. “I need to be inside you.”

Jaskier’s eyes flare with heat. “Then fuck me, darling. Hard. Rough. Don’t hold back,” he pants, lying down on the bed.

Something dark and primal ignites in Geralt’s chest. He kisses Jaskier hard, devouring his mouth, tongues sliding together in a messy clash of need. He doesn’t bother being slow anymore, he breaks the kiss only to grab the lube from the bedside drawer and coats his fingers, pushing one in deep without preamble.

Jaskier moans, lifting his hips up to take him deeper, greedy and unashamed. “More.”

“Yeah?” Geralt growls, sliding in a second finger, stretching him open fast and slick. “You want me to ruin you, Skylark?”

“Yes,” Jaskier gasps, his legs spreading wider, hips rocking to take him deeper. “Make me feel it tomorrow. Please.”

Geralt curses under his breath, pulling his fingers free and grabbing Jaskier’s hips to flip him over. He drags him to the edge of the bed, chest pressed into the mattress, ass up and offered. Jaskier looks over his shoulder, pupils blown wide, lips parted and panting.

Geralt strokes his cock once, then lines it up. “Hold on.”

He thrusts in with one powerful motion, burying himself to the hilt. Jaskier cries out, clutching the sheets in white-knuckled fists, his whole body arching at the sudden fullness. Geralt stills, gives him one breath, then draws back and slams in again.

They fall into a rhythm that’s fast and brutal, the room echoing with the slap of skin against skin, the creak of the bed, the ragged sounds of desperate pleasure.

“Fuck, yes, just like that, don’t stop—” Jaskier babbles, meeting every thrust, his cock leaking onto the sheets untouched. “Harder, gods, Geralt, harder.”

Geralt growls and obeys, gripping Jaskier’s hips tightly, angling each thrust to slam into that sweet spot that makes Jaskier sob. “You feel so fucking good,” he says, his voice wrecked. “So tight, so perfect—mine.”

“All yours,” Jaskier gasps, voice breaking, “fuck me, claim me, gods, I’m so close—”

Geralt leans over him, teeth scraping Jaskier’s shoulder, his chest pressed against Jask’s back. “Come with me,” he says, voice so low he feels Jaskier shiver beneath him. “Now.”

One more thrust, and they both shatter.

Jaskier cries out Geralt’s name as he comes untouched, cock twitching between his stomach and the bed, come spilling across the sheets. Geralt follows with a feral moan, burying himself deep, hips stuttering as he floods Jaskier with his release.

They collapse together, a tangle of sweat-slick limbs and shaking breaths. Geralt doesn’t pull out, just wraps his arms around Jaskier’s chest and holds him as they both come down, gasping for air and sated.

Jaskier groans, voice hoarse. “You… you’re not allowed to be that good. It’s unfair. You should be illegal.” He says, wagging his finger and tapping it on the end of Geralt’s nose.

Geralt huffs a soft laugh against his shoulder. “You said rough. I just… delivered.”

“You delivered like the gods themselves were watching,” Jaskier says, still breathless. “They probably took notes.”

Geralt presses a kiss to his shoulder. “You okay?”

“More than. You’ll have to carry me tomorrow.”

“Good. I like you sore. Means I did my job.”

Jaskier hums, blissed out. “Job well done, then, my darling.”

Jaskier is cradled in the crook of Geralt’s arm, held tight, Geralt feels whole, at peace, like nothing in the world can touch them here, safe in their bed. 

After a few minutes he pulls out and cleans them both up. “Sleep, love. You deserve it after that. I’m going to pop to the shop and to Triss’. I’ll wake you when dinner is ready.”

“Okay, love you everything,” Jaskier mutters softly, rolling over and wrapping the duvet around himself like a burrito.

“Love you everything,” Geralt replies, planting a kiss on Jask’s forehead before gathering his clothes off the floor and padding into the bathroom.

~*~*~*~

Jaskier dreams of screaming, abandonment, and fear. He wakes with a start, his heart beating so fast he has to take a couple of deep breaths to calm it. He gets to his feet and quickly dresses, throwing a blanket over his shoulders. He practically runs downstairs to the kitchen where he hears Geralt preparing dinner and that famous rhubarb crumble.

“Hey handsome, I was just about to come wake you up. Dinner’s—” Jask cuts him off by barreling into him, arms spread wide around his middle. Geralt puts down the spoon he’s holding and holds him tight. “Hey, everything okay?”

“You love me, don’t you?” Jask asks quietly.

“With everything I am, Jask. Where’s this coming from?” Geralt asks, his features creasing in concern.

“Just a bad dream. You smell good,” Jask says as he nuzzles his nose into Geralt’s chest, taking in the scent of amber and bergamot.

“Whatever that dream was, it’s not real. I love you and always will, my skylark. Ready to eat?”

“Two more minutes, you’re so warm.”

“Okay, love. Anything for you.”

They stand in the kitchen, holding each other tightly, Geralt planting soft kisses on Jaskier’s hair until he lets go. They eat dinner in front of the telly, laughing at their favorite show. As the evening progresses, Jaskier slowly forgets about the dream, his mind instead focusing on his wonderful fiancé by his side and the plate of Geralt’s homemade chocolate chip cookies between them.

~*~*~*~

Geralt hasn’t seen Jaskier that flustered since the night he took him to meet his brothers for the first time. Jaskier isn’t an insecure man—in fact, he exudes confidence in everything he does. So seeing him unsure of himself is always a worry. As the evening progresses he seems to relax and Jaskier falls asleep curled up next to him on the sofa, and when Geralt carries him to bed, he only wakes to say, “Love you everything, Ger. Stay with me, forever,” before falling fast asleep again. Geralt plods back to the kitchen, cleans up, and feeds Roach before heading to bed himself. He promised to sleep in bed tonight, and he always keeps his promises.

~*~*~*~

Jaskier wakes in the middle of the night, wrapped up in the arms of his fiancé with Roach snoozing next to his head on the pillow. Cuddling closer to Geralt’s warm frame, he drifts back to sleep, safe in the knowledge that Geralt is getting good rest for once.

He wakes a few hours later when Geralt pries himself away to get up. Grumbling, he looks at the time: 7 a.m.—far too early for him.

“Go back to sleep, baby. I need to do some work before we go out today.”

Jaskier doesn’t reply, sleep already claiming him again.

~*~*~*~

How Jaskier can sleep so much has always been a novelty to Geralt. The six or so hours he got last night is the most he ever gets, usually living off three or four most days. Jaskier, however, can sleep for ten hours a night and then still take a nap during the day.

He’ll have to cut that short today, though, as they’re meeting up with his brother Lambert for lunch at midday. And if Jaskier doesn’t have time for coffee and a shower in the morning, he’ll make it everyone’s problem.

He plans to wake him at ten, giving himself three hours to figure out some details for a new client and finish off the crumble for later. 

Geralt built his business from the ground up, starting with just a few small companies who needed help cleaning up after data breaches. It grew and grew, and now he and his team handle cybersecurity operations for major businesses across the country - monitoring threats, responding to incidents, and protecting sensitive data.

Settling into his chair, his furry companion joins him as usual, and he gets to work.

***

As planned, Geralt wakes Jaskier at ten, greeted by a chorus of groans and grumbles. He manages to coax him out of his warm cocoon with the promise of coffee and breakfast of his choice.

“Can I have eggs and bacon?” Jaskier asks, batting his long eyelashes.

“With avocado and toast?” Geralt replies, stroking his lover’s hair.

“Of course! Can I get a blowjob too? Since you seem to be granting all my wishes this morning,” Jaskier grins, scrunching his nose and flashing his perfectly straight teeth.

“If you can eat breakfast and get ready in less than an hour, your wish is my command. We need to leave by 11:30 to get to Lamb’s on time. So, do with that what you will,” Geralt says smoothly, his face breaking into a smile as he watches Jaskier stretch and pull the blankets down to reveal his erection.

“I promise to get ready quickly. Help me now? Pleaseeee?” Jask whines, big blue eyes looking up at him—like butter wouldn’t melt.

Geralt prides himself on his willpower, but with Jaskier, he might as well be an impulsive child in a sweet shop. It’s impossible to say no to that face, and Jaskier knows it.

***

They’re running late.

“I’m going to let you explain to Lambert why we’re half an hour late,” Geralt says, driving through winding countryside roads toward Lambert’s farmhouse.

“You know as well as I do that you’re just as much to blame,” Jaskier retorts, stretching his arms above his head. “I kept my end of the deal—I ate and got ready in record time. Not my fault you couldn’t resist me.”

Geralt grumbles—not in annoyance, but in defeat. Jaskier’s right, he did get ready fast. It’s the hour they spent fucking that’s the problem.

It started as a blowjob, like planned, but Geralt got carried away teasing Jaskier until the begging started. And of course, as soon as Jaskier touched him, Geralt was a goner.

“In my defence, you were the one begging me,” Geralt says. “How am I supposed to say no when you say such pretty things? You know how hot that is.”

Jaskier leans across the centre console, one hand resting on Geralt’s thigh, the other on the headrest. He licks Geralt’s ear and whispers, “You like it when I beg for your big cock? Does it make you so hard knowing how badly I need you to fuck me?” He pauses, kissing Geralt’s neck. “Please, I need it so badly.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt warns, “stop, or we’ll be even later because I’ll pull over and fuck you on the bonnet. Such a needy little one today, aren’t we? And here's me thinking you were going to be too sore to do anything.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Jaskier says, sliding back into his seat. “I was just remembering how fucking good it felt last night when you got lost in it and started pounding me so hard the bed shook… so me being hard right now is technically your fault.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Says the man who’s also tenting his shorts.”

They laugh, the conversation shifting to less provocative topics.

***

When they finally arrive at Lambert’s, they spot him through the large open garage doors of the workshop attached to the farmhouse. Geralt honks the horn, and Lambert turns, holding up a hand in greeting, wiping his hands on a rag draped over his shoulder.

Getting out of the car, they walk over to greet him.

“Hey guys, how you doing? Journey okay?” Lambert asks, smiling as he hugs them both in turn.

“Sorry we’re late, time just got away from us this morning,” Jaskier offers vaguely.

“Oh, really?” Lambert says, checking his watch. “Oh shit, ha, I hadn’t even realised. This beauty always makes time fly. Come on in, I’ll get cleaned up.”

Jaskier and Geralt peek into the workshop. A half-painted boat sits on a stand, the smell of paint and varnish filling the air as they lean in.

“Looking good, Lambert. How long now? Two years?” Jaskier calls out, now walking toward the front door where Lambert stands.

“About that, yeah. It’s a labour of love. These things take time, especially when I only get to work on it on weekends and evenings.”

“It was practically a pile of rotting wood when you got it,” Geralt adds as they step inside.

Lambert’s home is a large beautifully converted barn, high ceilings with all original wooden beams, large windows and a stone floor. He did most of it himself and it shows, there are personal touches and intricate attention to detail that only comes with Lambert's kind of knowledge. 

He works for an architectural firm, designing buildings for all sorts of people, from big businesses to a couple wanting to build their dream home. But his hobby is restoration, whether it be motorbikes, cars, barns or boats. Geralt watched him as a kid design elaborate building block castles for the three brothers to play with their toy knights and soldiers in. 

“I always forget how fucking lush this place is,” Jask muses as he stares up at the pitched ceiling above them. Geralt smiles at him and walks over to the kitchen taking a seat on a barstool that rests under the large island unit in the middle of the room.

“Thanks, I love it here. Make yourself at home. I'm gunna go get washed up,” Lambert says as he makes his way to the large spiral staircase at the end of the room that leads up to the bedrooms. 

Jask walks over to Geralt and nestles between his legs, kissing him softly. “Not too at home mind, no fucking in the kitchen please, it's where I eat,” 

“So we could fuck elsewhere?” Jaskier asks cheekily, Geralt buries his face in the man's chest stifling his laugh.

Lambert appears at the top of the stairs, “Well, Jaskier if you're that keen I have a big bed up here. You're welcome to join me,” he says and Geralt doesn't need to see him to know he has a shit eating grin on his face. 

Geralt leans back and smirks. “Keep dreaming, Lamb. Jask’s a size queen, and with what you’re packing — he’d eat you alive.”

“Rude,” Lambert laughs, flipping Geralt the middle finger as he strolls off towards his bedroom.

“It’s true,” Jaskier murmurs, leaning down to whisper in Geralt’s ear, “you and this big cock have ruined me for anyone else.” His hand slides over Geralt through the linen of his shorts.

Geralt grumbles, sighing into Jaskier’s mouth as he pulls him in for a kiss.

“You’re getting cheekier by the day, I swear,” Geralt says, eyes half-lidded as Jaskier’s fingers keep teasing him, his cock slowly filling in his hand.

“I think you’re just getting hotter, and I can’t keep my hands off you. Think we could find somewhere to do the bonnet thing on the way home?” Jaskier asks, giving Geralt a squeeze.

“Keep this up, and I’ll be finding somewhere a lot sooner than that,” Geralt replies through gritted teeth.

“Put your dicks away — I’m coming back down!” Lambert calls from the hallway.

Jaskier lets go with a cheeky smirk, as if to say, good luck hiding that . When Geralt looks down, he sighs — his shorts are straining against him, with the very obvious and visible outline of his hard cock

Geralt swivels his chair, tucking his legs under the island, hoping to stay put long enough to calm down. Jaskier settles beside him, in the same predicament, his erection clearly outlined through the thin fabric of his shorts. 

Lambert appears behind them, draping an arm over each of their shoulders as he stands between them.

“Right, lunch! I’m starving. I got Coen to drop off a beef Wellington and some roasted potatoes and veg. Sound good?”

“Sounds incredible! Did you still want help putting that wardrobe together later?” Geralt asks.

“If that’s alright, that would be great. Got some friends coming to stay next week and there’s no way I’m getting that mammoth thing standing on my own,” Lambert says, walking into the kitchen proper and pulling several trays from the chiller, sliding them into the hot AGA.

“All good!” Geralt replies. “No shame in asking the strongest of us brothers to come help you.”

“Oh, fuck off, G. I bet I could beat you in an arm wrestle easy. Jask here has made you weak.”

“Game on, little Lamby. I think you’ll find it’s actually Jask who keeps me fit!”

Jaskier bounces in his seat with excitement, clapping his hands together quickly.

It’s over before it really begins—Geralt has Lambert’s arm flat on the countertop within seconds of Jask’s countdown.

Jaskier whoops and sticks his tongue out at Lambert. “Never underestimate the power of fucking multiple times a day. You need to get laid, Lamby. Then maybe, just maybe, you might one day reach god levels like my very strong fiancé here.” He looks at Geralt, eyes dark, heat pouring from his gaze.

“Yeah, yeah, alright. He is a big boy. My ego got the better of me there!”

“That he is, Lambert. That he is,” Jaskier murmurs, and the look in his eyes is enough to make Geralt’s cock twitch. He’s definitely finding somewhere to stop on the way home and make his pretty lark sing on the bonnet of his car.

“Stop fucking each other with your eyes,” Lambert sighs, checking the food. “Some of us, as previously mentioned—are lacking in that department.”

~*~*~*~

The food is glorious, as always. Jaskier may have had nearly a whole bottle of red to himself, but no one is counting.

While the brothers are busy putting the wardrobe together, Jaskier makes his way to the back garden. The view here is incredible, and he always likes to sit on the grass and take it all in. The sun beats down on him, and mixed with the wine, it lulls him into a light sleep.

He wakes to a voice shouting, “There he is!” piercing through his blanket of sun and wine. Opening his eyes, he squints at the brightness, seeing Geralt standing on the patio, looking down at him sprawled in the clover.

“Come on, love, it’s time to go. We still have to get back for dinner with Triss.”

Jaskier stands on wobbly legs, his head still fuzzy and his limbs not quite his to fully control. “Oh shit, I forgot. Definitely shouldn’t have drunk that much wine. You just know Triss has got my favourite in. How am I meant to resist?”

“Come on, you drunkard,” Geralt says, looping an arm around his waist for support. He leans in and whispers into the shell of Jaskier’s ear, his hot breath sending shivers down his spine. “Still want me to bend you over the bonnet?”

That sobers Jask up a bit, his cock twitching in anticipation. “Fuck yes, I do. What’s the time?”

“It’s four now. We just need to stop by home to pick up the dessert and have a quick rinse in the shower. So—” Jaskier watches as Geralt does some mental maths, his fingers wiggling in the air, “we’ve got a spare half-hour if we want to get to Triss’ on time.”

“You’d better make me come quickly then, huh,” Jaskier says with a sultry smirk, his fingers digging into the muscles of Geralt’s arm.

“You really liked that arm wrestle, didn’t you?”

“Me? Enjoying watching you show off your ridiculous strength? Never!” he teases. “Only made me want you to pick me up and have your way with me right in the middle of the kitchen, just to prove exactly how your arms stay this fucking jacked,” Jaskier finishes as they meet Lambert in the kitchen to say goodbye.

~*~*~*~

After some more teasing about needing to get some action or risk withering away, along with hugs and thank yous, they leave.

Geralt practically skids the car on the gravel in his hurry to get away, wanting as much time as possible for what he has planned.

While he and Lambert had been putting up the wardrobe, he managed to ask about the best secluded viewpoints nearby. Lambert had given him an incredulous look but told him about one roughly a mile up the road — up a steep, narrow hill, but with views apparently to die for.

Jaskier unzips both their shorts as soon as they pull out of the driveway. He finds the hidden bottle of lube in the glovebox and grins, wicked and hungry. As the car winds its way up the hillside road, he reaches over and starts stroking them both in unison—slow, teasingly and practiced.

Lambert was, of course, right.

Geralt pulls into a small, empty gravel parking space, and the view through the windscreen takes both their breath away. The countryside stretches endlessly before them: rolling fields in a patchwork of green and gold, forests clustering on the horizon, and quaint little villages scattered like dropped pebbles.

“Fuck, Ger, it's stunning,” Jask says, eyes wide, hands paused mid-motion.

Geralt's eyes focus on him with a soft smile, then leans in close, voice low and sure. “Yeah. It really is. Now get that gorgeous ass out of the car and bent over, so the whole world can hear you sing.”

They scramble out of the car, Jaskier shoves his shorts down to his knees and bends over the hood, wiggling his ass with a shameless grin. Hunger glows in his eyes.

Geralt doesn’t bother pulling his shorts down; his cock is already out, hard and slick. He takes the lube from Jask’s hand and slicks his fingers, working him open with slow, deliberate care. Jaskier’s still loose from the morning, so it doesn’t take long before Geralt slides inside, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, relentless thrust.

He doesn’t hold back.

Geralt fucks him hard enough to make the car rock, the suspension creaking in protest. Jaskier’s moans echo off the quiet hills, high and unrestrained, and it only spurs Geralt on. He grips Jask’s hips tighter and growls, “Fucking take it.”

“Fuck yes,” Jaskier howls. “Give me that big cock. So fucking deep…”

Geralt pistons into him, merciless and precise. The sight of Jaskier spread out over the hood, flushed and panting, pushes him closer to the edge. He can hear it in Jaskier’s voice too, the way his moans get shorter, sharper.

“You gonna be a good boy and come for me?” Geralt rasps, his voice low as thunder.

Jaskier shudders violently, one hand slipping off the hood to wrap around his cock. “That’s it,” Geralt murmurs. “Make yourself feel good. I’m so close—come with me, Jask.”

“Fuck, yes. I’m gonna, fuck—” Jaskier pants, and Geralt feels it, the sudden tight clench around him as Jaskier’s orgasm hits, muscles locking him in tight. Geralt groans, spine arching, and comes with a roar, hips stuttering as he spills into him.

“Fuck,” Jaskier laughs breathlessly a minute later, pulling his shorts up gingerly. “My shorts are a disaster. So’s my shirt. I wasn’t going to shower when we got home, but now I’m gonna be a crusty mess if I don’t.”

They laugh as they wrap their arms around each other, standing there with the view spread out before them, full of love and lingering heat, as another car turns the corner just down the hill, heading their way.

They snicker, kiss, and scramble back into the vehicle. Geralt starts the engine, and Jaskier shifts in his seat with a dramatic sigh.

“Ugh. I'm sitting in a wet patch, how much did you come, you beast.”

Geralt only smirks, eyes on the road, and drives them home.

~*~*~*~

The evening passes in a delightful blur of wine, good food, and laughter.

Jaskier lounges on Triss’s sofa, a glass of red in hand, and places the word penis on the Scrabble board with a triumphant little cackle.

“That’s eight points for penis,” Triss says, laughing as she jots down the score. Her cheeks are flushed from the wine, and Jaskier watches her elegant fingers pluck new tiles and lay down the word package , using the P he just played. It stretches all the way to the last row, the final E landing squarely on a triple word score.

“Bad move, penis man. That’s sixty-three for me,” Triss teases, sucking in a dramatic breath through her teeth.

“Whose idea was this again?” Jaskier groans, flopping back against the cushions. “Playing Scrabble with you is like arm wrestling Ger—you’re never going to win, and some part of you is going to hurt after,” he finishes rubbing at his temples.

Triss bats her eyelashes at him, all faux innocence. “We’ve only just started, Jask. Think you could play a little longer? I promise we’ll play drinking games after.”

With a heavy sigh and a dramatic pout, Jaskier mutters a begrudging, “Fine,” while Triss claps her hands in delight.

He keeps playing, but only the most outrageous words he can think of—soon the board is littered with pussy , fuck , and boner . Triss objects to nearly all of them, arguing loudly that they’re not in the official Scrabble dictionary and *absolutely do not count*.

By the time the board is a battlefield of profanity and disputed points, they’ve given up entirely. The night dissolves into tequila shots and chaotic card games, their laughter echoing through the cottage.

The boys sleep in Triss’ spare room, the alcohol, like a weighted blanket, sends them both drifting off into a deep sleep as soon as their heads hit the fluffy pillows.

Chapter Text

Jaskier wakes up hard in an empty bed; ignoring it doesn't help, touching himself definitely doesn't help. In fact it just makes it so much worse, besides, making himself come is so boring these days he doesn't need to do it, what with living with a veritable sex god.

Rolling out of bed and pulling on his plaid pajama pants and one of Geralt’s t-shirts (big mistake, the smell of it just makes his cock twitch) he plods downstairs to see if Geralt can help him. 

“I have a rather… large problem, darling,” he whines at the entrance to Geralt's office. His thumbs in the hem of his pants pulling them down over his cock and swaying so it slaps his stomach.

Geralt looks up briefly and then does a double take as he seems to notice. “Oh my love, I wish I could help but I am swamped. Think you can wait till a bit later?”

Jaskier sighs, “but Geralllt,” he whines in a high pitched voice, “it won't go down unless you fuck me, please. It won't take long, I promise,” his eyelashes batting against his cheeks as he pleads. 

“My love, as much as I would love that, I know us and I know we'd end up taking an hour and I just don't have that to spare. I'm sorry love. I will make it up to you I promise,” Geralt says sadly, eyes lingering on his cock for a second longer before going back to his work. 

Jaskier huffs, pulling his pants back up and exiting to the kitchen for coffee. He takes it upstairs and tries to work on his and Essi's new album, finishing up lyrics and chords etc. But his mind is racing with unproductive and very explicit thoughts, so every line he writes turns into something about sex and gets deleted. 

His cock, the bastard that it is, is still hard and persistent. Jaskier wasn't lying when he told Geralt it won't go unless he gets fucked… or to be honest, Geralt doing anything would suffice at this point. 

Going back downstairs after a couple of hours, he stands in the office doorway once more. “Geralt, look at me, I'm dying over here. Please, I'll take a hand and some kisses, anything,” he begs. 

“Jask, I will try and finish earlier but it's absolutely manic today with this breach, my phone is constantly ringing and I have an endless stream of emails that need urgent attention. I'm sorry, I love you everything but I just can't right now,” Geralt says, a sad smile on his face as he looks up at him. Hunger flashing in those amber eyes as he stares longingly at Jaskier’s erection through his pjs. 

“I'm sorry I'm so needy today, I don't know why. I'll leave you be. Love you everything,” Jaskier says, walking over to Geralt and kissing his head before leaving the room.

~*~*~*~

Geralt was rudely awoken at 3AM by his work phone chiming the emergency alarm, alerting him that there had been a major breach. He had practically leaped out of bed and thrown on his pajamas before zoning out trying to solve the mystery of who had hacked his biggest client. He liked the puzzle- following a trail of clues that inevitably led him to his offender. But today, they had been clever, hiding their tracks, masking their scent. Unlucky for them though, Geralt was the best tracker in the business, even if it took him all day he would find and report them eventually.  

Unfortunately it meant he’s been too busy to give Jask the attention he's been begging for all morning and he hates it. It’s around 1:30 PM when Geralt’s stomach finally growls. He hadn’t eaten anything yet, so now his gut is gurgling around five cups of coffee and absolutely nothing else. With another loud rumble, Geralt decides to make lunch for the both of them, he gently shifts Roach off his lap and stands. His back cracks in multiple places as he stretches, each pop drawing a relieved sigh.

He’s just started slicing tomatoes and spinach, whisking eggs for omelettes, when he hears it—soft panting and a familiar, breathy whine. Jaskier.

Abandoning his fork on the counter, Geralt follows the sound to the living room. There, sprawled out on the sofa, is his fiancé: one hand down the front of his pajama bottoms, the other clutching his phone, eyes locked on the screen. His face is slacken, mouth open in a beautiful O as he watches, blissfully unaware he is being watched.

Geralt tries to see what he’s watching, but the phone’s tilted away—until he hears it. His own voice.

"Keep going, don't come yet, Jask. Hold it for me."

Ah. That video.

One of the first Jask ever asked for—Geralt on camera, giving a guided edging session. Geralt remembers recording it in his old apartment, the camera propped on a pillow, the back of his old bed barely in frame. Jask had told him he'd watched it countless times before they moved in together and apparently, he still does.

Smirking to himself, Geralt creeps behind the sofa and kneels. Jaskier, too engrossed on the video to notice. He waits. Right on cue, both the recording and Geralt whisper in unison, “Are you getting close, baby?”

Jaskier yelps, flinging his phone into the air like it’s bitten him. He scrambles to pause the video as Geralt chuckles low behind him.

“How long have you been watching, you perv?” Jask gasps, but his voice is laced more with surprise and lust than any real scolding.

“Only a minute. Can’t believe you still have that video.”

“Saved for a rainy day,” Jaskier grins sheepishly. “I know I should’ve waited for you, and I’m sorry I didn’t, but I’m just, so wound up today, and you’ve been so busy, I thought…”

“Jask, you don’t need to explain. You are allowed to jerk off in your own home—shocking, I know.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t really need to anymore. I have you for that.”

Geralt smiles. “I was in the middle of making lunch, but I think I can give you a hand first. I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you.”

He stands and makes his way around the couch to sit beside Jask, only for Jask’s gaze to immediately drop to the noticeable tent in Geralt’s matching pajama bottoms.

“Looks like you could use a hand too,” Jaskier hums.

“I have a better idea.” Geralt stands. “Up.”

Jask follows, eager and curious.

Geralt opens a drawer in the coffee table and pulls out the small bottle of lube they keep stashed there. His voice drops into a low growl. “Get that cock out and come here.”

Jaskier all but tears his pajama bottoms down, his cock slapping up against his stomach. “Good boy,” Geralt murmurs. “Now mine.”

Jask strokes Geralt through the fabric, slow and teasing, before tugging his bottoms down too. They stand chest-to-chest, bare and buzzing with anticipation.

“Now what?” Jask asks, blue eyes wide and hungry.

“This.” Geralt pumps lube into his hand, slick and warm, then wraps his fist around both of them, Jask’s cock pressed flush to his own. He bucks his hips just slightly, dragging their lengths together as he strokes them both in tandem.

Jaskier moans, head falling to Geralt’s shoulder. “Oh fuck, Ger—that feels so good. I’m not going to last.”

“That’s alright, love. Me neither,” Geralt moans as he quickens the pace, his grip tightening on them both.

Jaskier wraps his arms around Geralt’s neck and kisses him, messy and deep, his tongue slipping between Geralt’s lips. The rhythm between their bodies grows urgent, low groans between kisses grow in desperation.

Geralt’s hand moves with steady pressure, stroking them both together, the warm glide of skin-on-skin laced with lube, making Jaskier gasp with every pass. Their hips stutter against each other, a delicious friction building fast.

Jaskier’s kisses are erratic now, lips dragging along Geralt’s jaw, his breath ragged.

“Fuck, Geralt,” he moans, forehead pressing to Geralt’s. “I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” Geralt breathes, voice rough with arousal. “Want to come all over me, good boy?”

Jaskier whines, an honest-to-gods, helpless whimper, and Geralt feels his cock twitch against his own.

“Go on, baby. Come for me.” Geralt says, mimicking the words he remembers saying in the video.

That’s all it takes.

Jaskier shudders, clutching Geralt’s shoulders as his orgasm rips through him, gasping out Geralt’s name as he spills between them. His knees go weak, and Geralt catches him with his free arm, still stroking through it, still grinding against him.

“Gods, Ger…” Jask pants, chest heaving, forehead slick with sweat.

“Not done yet,” Geralt growls, rutting faster now, chasing his own high. His hand slick with Jaskier's come, making it glide so beautifully over their cocks.

Jaskier, still breathless and flushed, smirks lazily and leans down, mouthing at Geralt’s neck. “Come for me,” he whispers. “Show me how good it feels.”

The words are Geralt’s undoing. He groans, low and guttural, hips jerking once, twice, then he’s coming, thick and hot between them, coating Jaskier’s belly, his own and his knuckles.

For a moment, everything stills, just the echo of their breathing in the quiet room.

Then Jaskier chuckles, soft and pleased. “Now that is how you do lunch break quickies.”

Geralt laughs, kissing him slowly. “Still hungry?”

“Ravenous,” Jaskier grins. “But mostly for lunch this time. Promise.”

Geralt peels himself away with a groan, glancing down at the mess between them. “We’re disgusting.”

“We’re fantastic,” Jaskier corrects, already reaching for the tissues in the drawer. “Also, I’d just like to say, I was right. That video still holds up.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “Should I film a new one for you?”

Jaskier’s smile is downright wicked. “Only if I get to hold the camera.”

~*~*~*~

Jaskier’s legs are still shaky as he follows Geralt into the kitchen. The intense need he's been feeling all day, at long last diminishing. 

Geralt finishes making lunch but with a kiss to Jaskier’s forehead, retreats back to his office leaving Jaskier alone again. 

He takes his lunch to the lounge and retrieves his phone from where he had thrown it on the sofa. The video is still on his screen when he turns it on. 

Smiling, he hits play and fast forwards to the end. He watches as Geralt strokes his cock with abandon, silver hair haphazardly thrown up in a bun. He is wearing a tight fitted t-shirt so Jaskier can see his muscles tensing as he fists his cock. He's so beautiful, still is. 

“Go on, baby. Come for me,” Geralt says, his voice wrecked and so deliciously low. Even now it makes Jaskier’s toes curl and his cock stir. 

He watches as Geralt comes, and then he rewinds and watches again and again and again as he eats his omelette. It's better than any show on the tv and he could sit here and watch it all day. 

The way Geralt moans, his head thrown back, eyes closed, his spurts of come landing messily over the black fabric of his t-shirt as his huge cock pulses and throbs. It's mesmerising. Nothing like watching the real thing, but this will have to do until later. 

He finishes his omelette and decides it is probably for the best if he doesn't watch anymore. His cock is already hard again and he really does need to do some work. Luckily, this time, when he starts writing his need subsides and he can actually focus on the task at hand. He sends the lyrics to Essi along with a voice note of him singing them to see what she thinks. A few minutes later he gets a phone call. 

“Hey you, what do you think?” he asks.

“Amazing as always, Jask. I have some ideas for a new song if you want to hear?”

“Fuck yes I do, hit me!”

****

They spend over an hour on the phone, Essi talking him through her ideas and the couple of verses she has written. Jaskier plays some melody ideas on the guitar, and by the end of the phone call they have a solid plan for the final song of the album. 

“It's going to be beautiful,” Essi says dreamily, “I've got to go now, Fran is coming over in a bit and I need to shower and prep food. Love ya.”

“Love ya, have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do,” Jask says with a laugh.

“Aww that means I can't do what I've been thinking about all day, you don't fuck women anymore,” Essi says and Jaskier can hear the grin on her face. 

“Yeah but I used to, and I was very good at it, so go make your girlfriend scream and I'll speak to you later.” 

“Oh well, if you insist. Bye dearheart,” Essi says with a laugh, and hangs up. 

Jaskier laughs and puts his guitar and laptop away before heading downstairs. He hears Geralt on the phone before he reaches the bottom, he sounds so stressed and it makes Jaskier's heart twist. 

Deciding he will do everything he can to relieve some of his love's stress. Striding to the kitchen he opens the fridge, it's full of fresh fruit and veggies from Triss, a selection of meat from the butchers and so much else it's a little overwhelming. Geralt is usually the one to shop and cook as he loves it so much, but tonight, it was Jaskier's turn to pull out the stops and make Geralt’s favourite meal. He pulls up the recipe on his phone, puts on his apron and his ‘00's club bangers’ playlist and gets to work. Chopping onions, that definitely don't make him cry, mincing garlic and opening a bottle of white wine that he absolutely has to sample before cooking with. 

He is busy dancing and singing as he stirs in the pasta that he doesn't hear Geralt come in until large hands wrap around his waist. 

“Smells incredible, my love. You really didn't have to do this,” Geralt says sleepily, his chin resting on Jaskier's shoulder. 

“You scared the shit out of me. And yes I did, you're so stressed from work, the last thing you should be doing is cooking. So take this,” Jaskier passes him a large glass of the wine, “sit that sexy ass down and relax. You deserve to be pampered sometimes and that's what I plan on doing this evening.” 

Jaskier gets spun around in Geralt's arms and his lips captured in a perfect kiss. It makes his mind all fuzzy and his tummy flips with love. 

“How are you so perfect?” Geralt asks as he pulls away, walking to the bar stools and sitting down as instructed. 

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that, you know. It helps I have a perfect fiancé to match,” Jaskier smiles as he goes back to stirring the food. 

“I’m sorry I was so busy today, it was a bad one that no-one else could fix. But I really hate having to say no to you. I hope you know that it's never because I don't want you, Jask.”

“I know, darling. I mean how could you possibly resist this,” Jaskier says as he gestures to his body with a flourish.

“I can't and that's what makes it so hard to say no,” Geralt says with a small smile. He looks so tired, there are dark circles under his eyes, his hair is pulled back into a ponytail that's half falling out.

“I know something else it makes hard,” Jaskier purrs with a wink, trying to get Geralt to smile big and beautiful. 

He is rewarded with a laugh and that stunning toothy grin that sets his heart a light. 

“Always, even today while you were upstairs. Just knowing that you were hard and wanting me, fuck Jask, if I wasn't on and off the phone constantly I would have said fuck it and bent you over your desk and had you singing so prettily for me.” 

Jaskier knows he is staring gormlessly when Geralt laughs again. A hiss sounds from the stove and Jaskier curses as the pasta starts boiling over. 

“You can't say things like that while I'm cooking. I'm a weak man and easily distracted, especially when you say such filthy things.” 

“I happen to love distracting you so, too bad. Do you want to eat dinner out here or shall I get the lounge set up?” 

“I thought we could watch a movie and after dinner I'll give you a foot rub, before I worship your cock. Sound good?”

“Mmm perfect, just one addition, I'd like to fulfil my daydreams from earlier and fuck you till sing for me.”

Jaskier feels the heat crawl up his neck, his cock desperately hard. “Please do,” he moans as he finishes dinner quickly, so their evening can truly begin. 

****

Jaskier takes Geralt’s plate and along with his and sets them on the coffee table once they’ve finished eating. He settles back onto the sofa and pats his lap, gesturing for Geralt to put his feet up. They continue watching their film, Geralt chooses Pulp Fiction (one of his favourites), and Jaskier removes Geralt’s socks and slowly starts massaging the balls of his feet. The muscles taught as he digs his thumbs into the soft skin, Geralt sighs as he relaxes deeper into the couch cushions. 

Jaskier may have blanked out the film, focusing intently on giving his fiance the best massage he could while taking in the view of him sprawled out next to him. His toned arm bent behind his head, the way he smiles when he laughs as something in the film, and the way his eyebrows furrow and eyes slip close when Jaskier rubs a particularly sore part of his foot. He is so breathtakingly beautiful, no matter what he is doing and just the sight of him watching a film makes his heart race and cock stir in his pants. 

His mind drifts back to before he had met Geralt, the countless one night stands, meaningless sex and endless alcohol induced shenanigans. Back then he would have never dreamed he could love someone this much, or be this obsessed with someone he would be happy to spend the rest of his life sleeping with just one person. But now, trying to picture a life without Geralt in it was impossible. Even the thought of sleeping with anyone else made his stomach twist. This was it for him. The man would one day be his husband and that fact makes him halt his massage and lunge across the sofa to straddle Geralt’s legs. 

Geralt looks away from the screen, his face is relaxed when he looks up at him, eyes shining with love as he smiles. Jaskier bends down and takes his lips in his own, kissing him passionately, full of the deep love Jaskier feels pulsing around in his blood. Geralt wraps his arms around his middle and pulls him down so their bodies are flush against each other. They spend long minutes lazily making out, tongues exploring, hands wandering, hips grinding against each one another. Film abandoned and playing to itself.

Jaskier’s fingers yank the bottom of Geralt's t-shirt up, breaking the kiss he pulls it up over his head, Geralt raising his arms before dragging Jaskier’s own top off. Before Geralt can claim his mouth with his again, Jaskier shimmies himself down so he is in between Geralt's legs. He stares down at Geralt and smirks, “I could look at you all day, especially…” he says smoothly as he slowly edges Geralt’s pants down to reveal his thick cock, “when you are completely bare for me. So perfect, every part of you is divine.” 

He straightens his legs and lays down, nuzzling his face against Geralt’s leg. He peppers kisses across the soft skin, painting a trail of them to his cock. He hears Geralt’s sharp inhale of breath as he takes the head of his cock in his mouth. 

He circles the tip with his tongue, flicking it across the hole and tasting the salty precome beading there. He takes his time, licking, kissing and sucking every inch of Geralt’s length. Running his tongue up one of the protruding veins he takes his fiance’s balls in his hand and firmly pulls on them. He looks up into hazy amber eyes, half-lidded and full of lust, before smirking - spitting on Geralt’s cock and taking him down his throat in one smooth motion. He watches Geralt’s eyes roll and his hips buck involuntarily, making his cock hit the back of his throat, Jaskier gags but doesn’t relent his worship. The low moans and whimpers leaving Geralt’s lips become increasingly raw and breathless, spurring him on.

 “Fuck - Jas, oh fuck, yes. Just like that,” Geralt rambles as Jaskier continues taking him from tip to base. Jaskier takes one of Geralt’s hands and places it on the back of his head, with his hand on top of the much larger one he pushes his own head down. Giving permission and a plea for Geralt to take what he needs. Geralt moves both of his hands, one on either side of his head and face, fingers carding through his hair and he holds him so tenderly. That is until his grip tightens slightly so Jaskier can’t move and Geralt thrusts up into his mouth, fucking him fast and deep. Jaskier’s eyes water but he loves it, moaning around the hard length as he watches Geralt get lost in the sensation. 

“Fuck, fuck. You want me to come down this pretty throat?” Geralt growls, his hips stuttering slightly as he waits for a response. All Jaskier can do is moan hungrily and look at him with eyes that say that's exactly what he wants. “Fuck yes. Swallow it all like the good boy you are,” Geralt moans loudly and then hot come hits the back of his throat, coating his tongue. He swallows it down greedily, lapping up every drop as Geralt rides out his orgasm. 

Jaskier sits back on his heels, watching Geralt breathing heavily, eyes closed, cock still hard and glistening. Geralt’s eyes open, hunger flares in them as he moves. Jaskier’s world tilts as he is thrown back onto the sofa, his pjs quickly removed. Legs bent and pushed apart. Before he can even register his new position the flat of Geralt’s tongue licks across his hole. His body shivers in anticipation and a high pitched whimper falls from his lips. 

It's so good, toe-curlingly good, Geralt teases him with kisses, licks and nips of teeth on his ass cheeks and thighs until he is a puddle of need. “Please, please,” he begs, his cock leaking a steady stream of precome onto his stomach. 

“Tell me what you need, baby,” Geralt asks between kisses, “these?” he continues, pressing two fingers against his hole. 

“I want- I want your cock, please Geralt. Please fuck me. I'm so ready,” Jaskier pleads, using his hands to spread his cheeks and tilting himself back onto his shoulders. “Like this, fucking mount me. Please, ple-” his whines are cut off by the wide head of Geralt’s cock pressing against him. Geralt had moved so quickly, his feet flat on the sofa, legs on either side of Jaskier’s body, a hand pressing his cock down, guiding it to push slowly inside him. 

They both moan as he pushes further inside, he is so deep already and he's barely half way in. Jaskier cranes his neck to get a better view as Geralt’s cock, inch by inch, disappears from view. Once Geralt’s hips bump his ass, Geralt moves down, his hands bracketing Jaskier’s head. And then he moves, and it's so deep, so fucking perfect, Jaskier cries out. 

He looks up at Geralt's face which is twisted in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, mouth open, releasing a stream of groans and curses as he continues to fuck him. “You are so beautiful, my darli- fuck yes, right there. Don't stop,” Jaskier babbles, his eyes slipping closed. 

“I'm not stopping until you beg me too. You feel so fucking perfect wrapped around my cock. Taking me so well, such a good boy.” 

“Keep talking, make me come with that filthy, beautiful mouth,” Jaskier moans out over the sound of skin hitting skin and Geralt’s own moans. 

“Fuck,” Geralt practically growls, low and rumbly, a hand moving from the side of Jaskier’s head to around his throat. Not squeezing hard enough to stop him breathing, but just to be possessive. “Open your mouth,” he grunts.

Jaskier obliges, opening it wide and sticking out his tongue, to his absolute joy he is rewarded with a snarl and a deep throated growl that makes his cock throb.

“So fucking pretty,” Geralt emphasises each word with a hard thrust that makes Jaskier shift up the sofa before spitting into his mouth. Jaskier’s eyes roll and a guttural moan rips through him making Geralt do it again. “Shit, your ass gets so tight when I do that. You getting close little one? Want to come on my cock?” 

“Fuck yes, tell me to come, please. Please tell me,” Jaskier says, his head tips back and his eyes roll as Geralt shifts his angle slightly, hitting that perfect spot on every rough thrust. 

“You want to come so bad, huh? So desperate, such a greedy little one. Beg for it and I might let you,” Geralt’s voice lowers to a dangerous level, when Jaskier catches his eyes they sparkle with mischief and undeniable hunger. 

“Please Geralt, I want to come on your cock. Please let me come, please, please please,” he drabbles as his pleasure builds, he is riding the edge, waiting for those three words to grant him the permission to release. 

“That's a good boy, you beg so sweetly. Go on, come for me.”

Jaskier’s vision whites out as his orgasm crashes into him, he can distantly hear Geralt saying “That's it, give me it all. Fuck you're so tight. You're so beautiful when you come for me. Such a good boy.” Jaskier's whole body is shaking, fingernails digging into his ass cheeks so hard he's sure it will leave little crescent moons on his skin. 

Geralt’s pace doesn't relent, he fucks him hard through his orgasm and the keeps going. Chasing his own release. The hand on Jaskier's neck moves down to his cock, gripping it and stroking it slowly. Jaskier curses and shudders at the overstimulation, it's so good it hurts, his sensitive cock pulses in an aftershock. 

“Fuck, Ger-alt. So, sensitive,” his teeth chatter with the shivers it sends through him. 

Geralt grunts, and by the look on his face Jaskier can tell he must be on the edge, but he isn't letting himself come as he teases Jaskier. 

“Please, fuck, please come. I-I can't, it's so much,” Jaskier begs, his hands releasing the grip on his ass to scratch across Geralt’s nipples. He watches Geralt’s determination falter at the added sensation so scratches again, harder. 

Geralt’s hips stutter and his arm holding him up shakes, his grip loosens on Jaskier’s cock and when Jask pinches both nipples hard as he says “give me your come,” he shouts out his release before collapsing on top of Jaskier panting. 

“Fuck,” Geralt sighs, his body a comforting weight on top of him.

“Fuck indeed,” Jaskier replies as he strokes Geralt’s hair soothingly, planting a kiss to his forehead. “Feel better now?”

“What was even wrong?” Geralt laughs, attempting to lift himself onto his hands and knees, promptly shaking and settling back down in the crook of Jaskier’s neck. “I live here now, is that okay? Or do you need anything?”

“You are perfect just where you are, love you my darling.” 

“Love you everything.”

Chapter Text

A few weeks later.

Jaskier wakes to hot kisses on his shoulder and a wandering hand lightly stroking his cock to full hardness. He doesn’t fail to notice the prominent poking in the small of his back.

“Well, good morning to y—” he starts, but Geralt cuts him off with a bruising kiss, rolling him onto his back. Jaskier tangles his fingers into the long silver strands at the base of Geralt’s neck, deepening the kiss until they pull away, both panting. Jaskier rests his forehead against Geralt’s and grins.

“I do so love it when you wake me up like this,” he murmurs, reaching for Geralt’s cock under the duvet. “Fuck. My sweet boy, so hard and leaking for me.”

“Mmm, had a very vivid dream of you sucking my cock. Woke up like this,” Geralt rumbles, voice rough with sleep and arousal. He doesn’t let Jaskier reply, kissing him again, hands roving over his skin, raising goosebumps despite the warmth under the blankets.

“Want to be inside you,” Geralt says into the kiss, shifting between Jaskier’s legs, rutting his cock against him. “Is that okay, or are you sore from last night?” he asks, nipping at Jaskier’s neck.

“Take what you need, darling,” Jaskier breathes, spreading his legs wide to give Geralt better access. “I’m yours for the taking. Always.” He reaches for the lube on the nightstand and passes it to Geralt, who is practically vibrating with need.

Geralt pops the cap—just as Jaskier’s phone starts vibrating on the nightstand. ‘Don't Blame Me’ by Taylor Swift fills the room.

“Fuck,” Jaskier groans, reaching to silence the alarm. “I forgot—I have that meeting this morning with the studio and Essi.”

Geralt growls low in his throat. “Do you have to get up right now, or can you wait?”

“As much as I desperately want you right now, love… I know this will take far longer than we expect, and I really can’t be late.” Jaskier lets the sincerity shine in his eyes.

Geralt slumps back onto the bed, cock still a throbbing length, hand drifting toward it. Jaskier rolls over, plants a kiss on his cheek, and whispers, “Ah ah—no touching. I have plans to make it up to you, and I want all of you.” He cups Geralt’s balls lightly. “If you get my gist.”

“You cruel, cruel beautiful thing,” Geralt sighs. “And what if I don’t want to follow your… demands?”

“Trust me, you do,” Jaskier says with a wink as he gets up and starts dressing, slowly.

Geralt groans, watching his every move with a predatory glare. “I love you, gorgeous. I’ll be home at three. Need anything from the shops?”

“Probably, but you better come straight home. I’ll sort the shopping. Love you too. Get there safe, good luck—and think about what you’ve done.” Geralt gestures pointedly toward his still needy cock.

“You can count on that,” Jaskier says mischievously, planting a quick peck on Geralt’s head.

Downstairs, Roach meows loudly, padding over with expectation. “Morning, my handsome Roachy,” Jaskier coos. “Want some love? Daddy’s still in bed, he’ll give you lots of love today, promise. I have to go now, little man. I’ll pick you up something nice in town, how about that?” He strokes between Roach’s ears, grabs a bottle of water and a banana for the journey, slings his satchel over his shoulder, guitar in hand, and heads out.

The bus is late, and the weather is not on his side. When it finally arrives, Jaskier is soaked through. He pictures his raincoat still hanging by the door and sighs, taking a seat.

His phone chirps.

Gerbear ❤️ sent an image:
A picture of Geralt’s hair-splattered legs, a big ball of fluff curled up on them. The duvet barely hides the obvious bulge beneath.
Caption:
“Even if I wanted to do something about the state you left me in, our son has joined me.”

Jaskier:
“I told him you’d give him lots of love, so you better! Still struggling, are we, darling? 😉 The things I want to do to you later… I’m getting hard just thinking about them 😘”

Geralt:
“You can’t say things like that and expect me not to touch myself. Just picturing you all flustered on a bus full of people, hiding that delicious cock under your satchel so no on e sees how hard you are for me.”

Jaskier bites his lip.
“Please don’t touch yourself, baby… I want to make you come untouched later, and it’s so much better when you haven't come all day 😇 Now I’m definitely having to hide myself… just thinking about being balls deep inside you, you gripping me so tight as you come.”

Geralt:
“Fuck, Jask… how I’m going to get any work done today knowing that’s happening later, I don’t know. I’ll spend my time wisely and do some prep 😉”

Jaskier:
“That’s a good boy. Get yourself ready for me. 😘 The bus is getting busy, someone just sat next to me. I’ll message you when I get there. Need to cool off first! Love you everything ❤️”

Geralt:
“Mmm, love being your good boy. Okay, love. Talk later. Love you everything ❤️ xx”

Jaskier pops in his headphones, listening to Essi’s voice notes and jotting rough ideas into his beat-up notebook. By his stop, his brain is buzzing with creative energy and most (never all) thoughts of Geralt’s cock are tucked away.

He meets Essi outside the studio and they head in together. The meeting goes well; discussing the album’s direction, equipment needs, budget. Jaskier even samples the first song on his guitar—they love it.

During lunch, Jaskier checks his phone. A notification from Geralt makes him grin and he excuses himself to the bathroom.

Gerbear ❤️ sent an image:
A picture of Geralt standing with one leg on the bath’s edge, ass cheeks spread wide, a dark blue plug visible.
Caption:
“I hope you appreciate the fucking gymnastics it took to take this picture for you. I didn’t touch myself once even though I was leaking everywhere as I fucked it inside me.”

Jaskier’s cock stiffens instantly. In the privacy of the stall, he pulls his jeans and boxers down, shirt rucked up to his nipples. He snaps a mirror selfie of his abs and aching cock, allowing a few teasing strokes before righting his clothes.

Jaskier:
“See what you do to me? I’m trying to be professional, and all I can think about is pulling that perfect plug out of your perfect ass. Gods baby, you drive me crazy. And the gymnastics were very much appreciated 😘”

Geralt:
“😮 Fuck, Jask, you’re so fucking hot! I’ve been trying to work, but every time I move, the plug shifts and, well…”

Another message comes through.

Gerbear ❤️ sent an image:
A picture of Geralt in his desk chair, joggers tented and darkened with a wet patch.
“It hasn’t gone away. Even when I think about work, it’s still there. Throbbing and leaking… just how you like it 😉 Get home soon, I need you.”

Jaskier replies instantly:
“I have 10 minutes. Show me. I want to see exactly how needy you are for me.”

Geralt sends a short video:
He grips the waistband of his joggers, pulls them down to reveal his cock, thick, veined, red and leaking. It twitches visibly. His voice, low and desperate, says, “I’m so fucking ready for you to fuck the come out of me. Please…milk my cock until I’m empty.”

Jaskier stares, breath caught, pants once again abandoned, he takes his cock in hand and edges himself as he watches. The word please nearly undoes him.

Jaskier:
“Holy fuck, I’m coming home as soon as I can, might get a taxi. I’ll let you know when I leave. I need to go look at dog pictures or something, if my boxers touch me, I’ll come. Fuck , Geralt. I’m going to make you feel so good when I get home.”

Geralt:
“Taxi sounds like a very good idea. Need you. Want you. Can’t take it much longer. Hurry home, your pleasure awaits 😘😂”

~*~*~*~

Geralt tries working again. He really does. But every shift of the plug sends jolts of heat through him. The memory of Jask’s picture is seared into his mind.

Roach meows from the doorway, demanding attention. “I’m sorry, little man. Blame your father,” Geralt says, scratching him under the chin. Roach purrs.

Checking the time, only 13:30, Geralt sighs, shuts his laptop, and heads into the kitchen. He throws together a salad, distracted, cock still aching. On the lounge sofa, he flicks through videos on YouTube, picking at his food.

The sound of guitar and Jaskier singing blaring on his phone jerks him awake. A call—Jaskier.

“I’m in the taxi! Had to grab treats for Roach, but I’m on my way. Twenty minutes. You okay?”

Geralt’s heart races, cock stirring again. “I’m good. Must’ve dozed off. Can’t wait to see you.” His voice is rough with need.

Jaskier laughs softly. “Meeting went great. We’re recording an album! Essi wants drinks tonight, if you’re up for it?”

“Jaskier! I'm so fucking proud of you, that's such incredible news! Once certain matters are resolved, I’d love to.” Geralt beams. “Love you so much, my soon to be superstar.”

Jaskier laughs down the line, sending Geralt’s heart fluttering. “Thank you, love. Oh, Essi’s calling. See you soon! Love you everything.”

“Love you everything.”

He ends the call, quickly setting the bedroom with water, snacks and the waterproof blanket. Stripping down, he stretches out on the bed, cock throbbing against his stomach.

He snaps a photo, thick, red, leaking, and sends it.

Captioned:
“Waiting and ready.”

Jaskier:
“🥵🥵 10 minutes and I’ll be right where you need me.”

Geralt lies back, body humming with anticipation.

Then, he hears it. The door clicks shut. Bags rustle. Footsteps, fast, up the stairs.

Finally.  

Jaskier stands in the doorway, hair askew from the morning rain, hands deftly undoing his shirt buttons and jeans. In moments, he’s clamouring onto the bed, straddling Geralt’s lap.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Jaskier begins, but Geralt cuts him off by pulling him down into a scorching kiss. It's all tongues and teeth, impatient and desperate. The kiss is petrol to the fire already roaring through Geralt, and he’s so unbelievably turned on it hurts.

“Less talking. More fucking,” Geralt growls between kisses, reaching for the lube and pumping it into his palm with practiced ease. He wastes no time, stroking Jaskier’s cock thoroughly, coating every inch in a slick layer.

“Okay, okay, someone’s desperate I see,” Jaskier teases, mischief thick in his voice. “Fuck, darling, that feels so good,” he adds, voice shifting from playful to breathless.

“Desperate doesn’t begin to describe it. Now please. For the love of gods, get inside me,” Geralt pleads, releasing Jaskier’s cock from his grip, his breath catching.

Jaskier moves too slowly for Geralt’s liking. He’s seconds from flipping him over and taking what he needs—but then Jaskier scoots back onto the bed, settling between his legs, looking at him like he’s hung the damn moon.

“Look at you, so beautiful in every way,” Jaskier murmurs, his slender fingers circling the base of the plug. “Did you like having this in today? The sight of it is to die for.”

“Yes,” Geralt stutters, body trembling, words feeling foreign as lust overtakes every cell in him.

“Good boy,” Jaskier purrs. “I want you to wear it out tonight, after I’ve filled you  Keep it from spilling out, so I can fuck you again when we get home. Sound good?”

Geralt can only nod, eyes rolling back as Jaskier gently tugs at the plug, stretching him around the widest point. His cock leaks steadily onto his stomach, twitching with every shift of movement.

“Good boy,” Jaskier groans, watching Geralt stretch and relax as he pulls the plug out completely. Geralt whimpers at the emptiness, his hole clenching around nothing.

“It’s okay, darling. I’ve got you,” Jaskier soothes, shifting to grab a pillow and sliding it under the waterproof blanket and the small of Geralt’s back. He lifts Geralt’s legs, holding one behind the knee while guiding his cock to where Geralt needs him most. Once aligned, he lifts the other leg and holds it too.

In one smooth motion, Jaskier’s cock slides inside, and Geralt’s whole world narrows to the sensation of being filled and stretched. Jaskier doesn’t stay slow for long. He thrusts in deep, long strokes that make Geralt see stars.

“You feel so good wrapped around my cock, baby. Taking me so fucking good,” Jaskier moans, his pace increasing, eyes closing, needing this just as much as Geralt does.

Geralt fists the blanket, moaning loudly with each thrust, grateful the nearest neighbours are nearly a mile away. He watches Jaskier, the way his arm muscles flex, his lickable abs tighten with every powerful push inside.

Jaskier pauses, panting, and pulls out. “Kneel at the edge of the bed,” he commands.

Geralt obeys, shifting onto shaky knees and crawling to the bed’s edge. “Arms behind your back, darling,” Jaskier says, now standing behind him.

Jaskier grips Geralt’s joined wrists with one hand and thrusts his cock back inside him. The pace is frantic now, every movement sending Geralt reeling. He fights to stay upright, but Jask must notice, he pushes him forward, face-first into the blanket, arms still held behind his back, Jaskier's cock still pistoning in and out.

Then Jaskier adjusts angle—just slightly—and Geralt cries out in pleasure, every thrust brushing his prostate in devastating, delicious precision.

He spirals, body no longer his to control. The room fades into buzzing static. All he hears are Jaskier’s distant moans, and all he knows is bliss.

His mind empties, lost in raw, unfiltered ecstasy. That spark, deep in his gut, flares and burns, racing down his spine. 

Distantly, Geralt hears, “Fuck, baby, I’m so close. You going to give me all that come?”

It’s the final drop of fuel and it ignites an explosion of white-hot pleasure. He comes so hard his vision whites out. He’s sure he’s screaming, crying, or both. He feels Jaskier unload inside him, cock pulsing so deep it draws out his orgasm for what feels like eternity.

When he finally comes back to earth, he’s on his side, arms tucked in front of him, with Jaskier’s nestled between them. Jaskier’s weight against his back is soothing, and he peppers kisses on his shoulders, whispering soft words of admiration into his ear.

“You did so good, my love. So proud of you for doing that. Thank you for trusting me, today and always. I love you so much.” The praise and affection go on and on until Geralt’s body feels like his own again, and he can finally open his eyes.

Geralt rolls over to face his fiancé. The movement sparks that familiar fullness, and he grins, knowing he’s still full of Jaskier’s come, the comforting presence of the plug a constant reminder. He takes Jaskier’s face in his hands and kisses him tenderly.

“You... that was...” Words still won’t form properly, so he gives up and pulls Jask into a big bear hug instead. Arms and legs wrap around him, holding him close. The scent of Jaskier’s shampoo fills his nose, and the overwhelming love in his heart lulls him into restful sleep.

~*~*~*~

Jaskier lies there, enveloped in Geralt’s arms and legs, face smooshed into his chest. He can tell Geralt has fallen asleep when his breathing evens out and soft snores begin. He needs to pee but can’t bring himself to move, not when it might wake his sleeping bear. Geralt needs all the sleep he can get with how hard he works. So Jaskier nestles in closer and lets his own eyes drift shut.

****

He wakes to Geralt shifting beneath him, trying to move. Panic flickers, he fell asleep! He quickly sits up and checks the time to make sure they haven’t left Essi alone at the bar. But they’ve only slept an hour. It's almost 17:00. They still have plenty of time.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to wake you. I’m so parched, I think my mouth’s turned into the Sahara,” Geralt laughs, sitting up and reaching for the glasses of water on the nightstand. He passes one to Jaskier, who takes it gratefully, his mouth is dry as fuck too.

“I’m not surprised, darling. With all that screaming you did,” Jaskier teases with a cheeky grin, elbowing Geralt in the side. It earns him a laugh, and a blush that creeps onto Geralt’s cheeks as he looks down into his water, smiling. He looks sublime.

“I think that might be the hardest I’ve ever come, so I’m not surprised I was screaming. It was too good for words, Jask. Honestly.”

“Oh, you—stop it. I could say that every single time you fuck me. Which is a lot, by the way. And every single time, it’s mind-blowing.” Jaskier grins. “You know what I think? I think we’re just perfect for each other and should be together for-ev-er.”

He flashes the silver band on his finger, his engagement ring. A silver band inlaid with aquamarine set next to a ring of amber. Jaskier had cried when he first saw it—well, he was already crying with the perfect way Geralt had proposed. But the ring was more than he ever dreamed. It perfectly represents the two of them in a way he hadn’t even imagined. Since the moment Geralt slipped it on almost two years ago, he hasn’t taken it off.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” Jaskier finishes with a grin.

“Oh no, what will I ever do?” Geralt replies sarcastically, shaking his head side to side for emphasis.

“Love me, laugh with me, and have the most mind-blowing sex with me, forever?”

“Sounds like heaven, if you ask me,” Geralt says, setting the glasses down after they finish. His sly smile returns as he glances down at his slowly hardening cock. “Wanna suck me off in the shower?”

His eyebrows wiggle, lips curling mischievously. Jask gives him a look that says: Did I not just give you an outstanding performance, you horny bastard?

“Don’t give me that look. You’re the one who put the plug back in my ass and started talking about fucking me for the rest of our lives. Sorry that my undying love for you makes me horny, alright?” Geralt laughs, and Jaskier joins him.

“Well, we need to shower before we go out. What’s an extra shower of jizz?” Jaskier laughs harder, standing and holding out his hand. “Come on then. Now you’ve said it, I want nothing more than your cock in my mouth.”

~*~*~*~

After painting Jaskier’s face in come and then getting them both clean, Geralt is soon all dressed up, ready to go meet Essi at the bar.

Geralt straightens his blazer jacket in the hallway mirror, checking his pockets for the essentials — keys, phone, wallet, and a sneaky small bottle of lube. You know, just in case. He finishes tying his shoes when Jaskier walks down the hallway. Geralt’s hands halt as he beholds him. Jaskier wears light grey-blue suit trousers with the blazer haphazardly thrown over one shoulder, his hair perfectly imperfect. But it’s the shirt that holds Geralt’s attention. It’s made of sheer light blue material with beautifully delicate flowers of all colors stitched all over it. It’s stunning, and on Jaskier, utterly breathtaking.

“Wow, you look,” Geralt swallows around his tongue, “you look incredible. Like, I don’t want to go out and have people see you like this incredible. Wow.”

“Don’t you worry, darling. All the eyes in the world could look at me and I only want yours. Especially when they do what they’re doing right now,” Jaskier chuckles. “They’re practically bulging out your head.”

Jaskier walks closer, grabbing a bottle of cologne out of a basket they keep by the door. He sprays once on each wrist, rubs them behind his ears before spraying his wrists again, then places it back in the basket.

“And now you smell divine too. How am I going to not have a boner the entire evening? One, with you looking like that. Two, smelling like that. Three, with this plug and your come up my ass. And four, knowing exactly why I have your come and plug up my ass.”

“The thrill of it, darling, if it’s any consolation,” Jaskier says, grabbing Geralt’s hand and placing it on his ass. Geralt lets his hand wander down to feel the base of the plug. “It’s also bigger than yours, so stop your complaining.”

“That’s because my cock’s bigger. You also take me more often than I take you, so…” Geralt cuts himself off, “I thought—”

“That’s still happening, but I know you and your insatiable huge cock, so once I’ve fucked you dry you can do the same to me. Besides, I enjoy being plugged up, and I thought it would be fun for us both to be needy messes when we get home,” Jask winks and opens the front door. “Shall we? The taxi is waiting.”

“If we make it home,” Geralt mutters, trying to rearrange his hardening cock so he won’t give the taxi driver an eyeful. Fully disguised, he exits the house. Once Jaskier is also rearranged and leaves, Geralt locks the door and they both sit in the taxi, exchanging a look that says: ‘Sitting is going to be the hardest challenge this evening .’ They both take a breath as the taxi pulls away and heads toward town.

~*~*~*~

The bar Essi booked a table at is one they used to frequent during their college days. The same bartender, Jenni, still works there and always likes to remind them of what terrible drunks they used to be, much to Jaskier’s dismay. He isn’t proud of the things he did when alcohol was in his system, and he supposes he isn’t much better now, he just fucks the same person instead of some rando, girl or boy, who wanted a good shag. He was known for being a good lay, so it wasn’t difficult finding someone willing and consenting.

When they walk into the bar, Essi catches Jaskier’s attention and he grins seeing she invited all their friends, including Geralt’s two brothers, Lambert and Eskel.

“Hey everyone! It’s so good to see you all, thank you so much for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Triss says as he hugs her. “So proud of you and Essi, this album is going to be amazing.”

“Thank you, I really hope so,” Jaskier says, his grin firmly planted on his face as he moves to hug Yen.

“Our little bards moving up. Soon you’ll be touring the world, too rich to remember any of us,” Yen says into his ear. Jaskier looks to Geralt, who hugs his brothers with loud slaps to the back. “I sincerely doubt that, you guys mean everything to me. I couldn’t imagine my life without each and every one of you.”

“Yeah, but especially Geralt’s cock, right?” Yen jokes. Jaskier laughs out, “Well, out of anyone you would know!” Geralt and Yen dated years before Jaskier met him and stayed close friends; it’s never been awkward between Jask and her. And it also means he has someone in the know about how insane he is in bed. “Yeah, well Esk’s cock is bigger, so I win,” she laughs and elbows him with a wink. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, you size queen,” Jask joins her laughter before moving on.

“Dandelion!” Priscilla shouts even though he’s standing right next to her, clearly having had a few too many vodka cranberries already. “I’m so happy for you and Es, seems like only yest’day we were all in dorms together,” her words already slurring.#

Jask looks over her shoulder at Essi, who grins and shrugs her shoulders, feigning innocence as always.

“Now look,” she hiccups, “now look at you both, gonna be famous, you know. You’re the bestest,” she slurs, dropping her arms over his shoulders and planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. 

Jaskier can hear Essi laughing wickedly from next to him and turns to glare at her. Wiping the slobber from his lips, he gently places Pris in a chair and hands her a glass of water. “No more for her!” he calls across the room. “I don’t want vodka kisses all night unless it’s from my fiancé.” He looks over at Geralt, who is deep in conversation with Eskel and completely oblivious to what’s going on.

He walks over to Essi, sketching a bow as she curtseys. “Mi’lady.” “Mi’lord,” they say in unison and crack up laughing. They’ve been friends as long as Jaskier can remember. Growing up as neighbors, they used to play together after school. They started this little tradition when they were around eight or nine, and it stuck. “Love ya,” Jask says as he bumps shoulders with her.

“Oh hey Jask,” a chipper voice sounds from behind them. Essi’s girlfriend, Fran, appears with three drinks balanced between her fingers. “I got you a G&T, hope that’s okay,” she says to Jask with a smile as she gingerly puts the drinks on the table. 

“Of course, thank you so much,” Jask says, pulling her into a hug.

“No problem, so excited for you and Es to get this album going. I’ve heard bits from Es but can’t wait to hear it all finished.”

She has such a genuine smile on her face, and the way she looks at his best friend makes his heart happy. “We are super stoked to finally get to produce it after all these years of writing,” Jask says, grinning as wide as ever.

“Oi, bard get over here!” Eskel’s deep voice calls from the other side of the table. The last year he’s been dating Yen has rubbed off on him, along with his nickname, to his chagrin. He thanks Fran again and picks up his drink, walking round to where Eskel, Lamb, and Geralt stand.

“Geralt was just telling us that your sister is coming down soon. Think you could set her up with ol’ Lamby here? He needs a good shag,” Eskel says, taking big gulps of his beer and hitting Lambert on the shoulder. 

Lambert’s face is as red as his hair, even if his eyes and mind are on someone else entirely. Jask isn’t sure who else has noticed the way Lamb and Triss look at each other, but Eskel sure isn’t one of them.

“As much as I relish the idea of dictating my sister’s sexual relations,” he says sarcastically, “I’m afraid she already has a fiancé, so Lambert’s dick will have to get wet some other way.” Jask tries very hard not to look over at Triss, or think of one of his closest, loveliest friends like that. He doesn’t mind flaunting his own sex life as he knows Geralt quite likes him boasting and showing him off. But Triss, he knows she likes to keep things private and only really talks to Yen about it.

“Maybe ask Lambert if he even wants casual sex before trying to set him up, hmm?” Geralt chimes in. “Let him be Esk. You okay there Lamb?” Geralt asks, touching the man on the shoulder. “Can I get you a drink, and away from this bastard we call a brother?” There’s no heat in his words as he rolls his eyes at Eskel over his shoulder, leading Lambert towards the bar.

Eskel’s face breaks into a wild grin. 

“You’re an ass, you know,” Jaskier probes while smiling.

“Yeah, I know. It’s a good job Yen puts up with my bullshit or I’d be fucked. So your sister’s really coming down? How’re you feeling about that? How long has it been?”

“You’re one lucky sod! Yeah, she is. Haven’t seen her in person since before Geralt and I got together. He’s never met her; I think he might be a bit nervous. To be honest, I’m shitting bricks about seeing her again. We text maybe once a year at Christmas. She’s still the 12-year scared little girl in my head,” he says, blocking out memories that slither like snakes from the back of his mind. He’s five years older than Delilah, and when they escorted him from their family estate at 17 for being bisexual, she watched in horror from a half-closed door as their mother screamed and berated him for choosing sin over family. Their mother turned Deli against him, and it took a great amount of therapy on her behalf to have the courage to go against their mother’s wishes and come visit him.

“Geralt’s told us bits of what your mum is like, and I just wanna say. Fuck her, she’s missing out big time on not having a wonderful guy like you in her life.” Eskel’s voice is so soft it hurts. “You’ll always be a part of our family, you know that, right?”

Jaskier clears his throat. He will not cry. He will not cry. “Thanks, Esk. I don’t think Ves will ever let me forget that I’m basically one of his sons. This is supposed to be a celebration, quit being so nice,” Jaskier says as a rebellious tear hits his cheek. 

He downs his G&T, ice clattering as he puts it back on the table with a bang and declares loudly, “Let’s get this party started!”

Eskel brings him another drink while everyone picks seats and whispers a soft “Sorry, man, didn’t mean to bring down such a special occasion. So proud of you, little bro.”

~*~*~*~

Geralt takes his seat next to Jaskier. Triss is to his left. Lamb stands awkwardly behind them for a moment before deciding to sit next to Jaskier instead of the empty seat beside Triss. Geralt and Jask have had many conversations about what a sweet couple the two of them would make, if only one of them would take the leap.

Geralt takes Jask’s hand in his and brings it to his mouth for a kiss before subtly placing it on the top of his thigh. Jask’s fingertips are tantalisingly close to his seemingly permanent semi. Between the plug slightly shifting every time he moves and seeing Jask in that shirt with a huge smile on his face, making his eyes crinkle at the edges, looking so stunning. Geralt leans in and whispers in his ear, “I can’t stop thinking about that plug in your ass and how much I want my cock to replace it.” 

Jaskier’s fingers grip tightly into the skin of his thigh. He leans in. “Same, darling. A few more hours and I’ll be riding your cock so good, baby.”

Geralt stretches to disguise the groan that rips from him, which earns him a questioning glance from Triss. 

“You okay, Geralt? Is your back sore? I made some new ointment a few weeks ago that’s incredible for sore muscles if you want some.”

“That sounds amazing, Triss,” Jaskier answers for him. “He’s been complaining a lot today. Maybe he needs something to help loosen him up a bit.” Jaskier says, clearly trying to keep a straight face and failing spectacularly.

“This is some sex thing, isn’t it? How do I always manage to walk my way into your overactive sex life?”

“I’m sorry, Triss, Jask here is a truly terrible liar. I was going to say that sounds lovely and let it go. But nooo, someone,” he gives a pointed look to Jask who’s smirking at them both, “had to go and butt in.”

“It’s okay, boys. After this many years, I’m more than used to your kinky ways,” she downs her drink before saying quietly, “Wish I could get even a tiny percentage of what you two have.” Geralt rubs small circles into her back. “You will, maybe sooner than you think.” He looks over to see Jaskier talking very animatedly to Lambert, and when he looks back, Triss is looking dreamily over in that direction too.

“You should talk to h—”

“Let’s get shots!” Eskel shouts far too loudly from the other side of the table. Yen cheers in agreement, looking at Eskel with a soft smile of adoration. Before Eskel gets up to order, he leans across gripping Yen round the throat and kisses her deeply before standing, winking at her. She stares after him as he walks, and someone, not mentioning any certain fiancé’s names, wolf whistles at them.

When Geralt turns back to continue his conversation with Triss, she’s still looking wistfully down towards Lambert.

“Wanna swap seats with Jask? You’re good friends, Triss, go talk to him.”

“You make it sound so easy, Ger. When I’m next to him, it’s like all my words and brains just leave my body. Is it really that obvious that I like him?”

“Triss, I know Lambert more intimately than I’d prefer, and I have never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. And after all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you this smitten. Just go talk to him, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“I don’t even want to know what you mean by the first bit. You really think he looks at me?” she questions, hands knitting together on her lap.

“Absolutely. You don’t have to, I’ll happily sit here and talk to you all evening. But I know I’ll be talking to your cheek half the night as you look around me,” Geralt says sweetly.

“Who else knows I like him?”

“Jask won’t stop talking about how cute you’d be together, but otherwise I’m not sure. Maybe Essi, as Jask talks to her about everything on their wine nights.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” she says, sitting up straighter with a small smile. “Think you could get Jask to move first so I don’t have to ask?”

“Consider it done. You got this. You’re a beautiful woman, who knows words and has one of the best brains. And also a fantastic ass, which looks incredible in that dress. He’d be a stupid fuck to turn you down, which he won’t because he is infatuated with you.”

Geralt stands with a smile and a wink at Triss before bending down to Jask and whispering, “Wanna go make out on the balcony?”

Jaskier abruptly ends his conversation about guitars with Lambert, who also enjoys playing, and stands nodding. “Be right back,” he says as he grabs Geralt’s hands and pulls him away from the table.

Lambert calls out, “At least wash your hands after, I don’t want to find spunk in the appetisers,” which gains him a light smack on the back of the head from Geralt.

~*~*~*~

It’s been a while since Jask has worn a plug out in public, especially one this large. It’s the biggest one they own but he doesn’t want to waste time later with Geralt having to open him up, so in this instance, bigger is definitely better. But it means that every tiny movement he makes, whether it’s near his ass or not, seems to send tantalising sparks of electricity across his skin. So when Geralt pulls him away from his conversation, he’s more than eager to get his hands on him.

They fumble like horny teenagers up the stairs to the large balcony that wraps around two sides of the building. The glass and metal fences are wrapped in fairy lights. There are seats dotted around so people can sit and admire the breathtaking view of the coastline beyond the town. Somewhere on that coastline is their house, but even the stars and the light-dotted skyline are not as beautiful as the man standing in front of him. Holding his hips close to Jaskier’s Geralt backs him slowly against a wall tucked away from the view of the other patrons.

Geralt’s arms bracket either side of his head as his back bumps against the wall. “You having a good time, love?”

“Definitely. It’s so lovely to see everyone all in one place. But I’m not with them right now, so shut up and kiss me,” Jaskier demands, pulling Geralt by the collar, crashing their lips together. It’s messy and so fucking hot. Jask finds himself grinding against Geralt’s leg in some desperate hope of friction.

“Now who’s the needy one?” Geralt huffs into his mouth. “That plug getting you all worked up like mine is?” Geralt moves one of Jaskier’s hands to his cock, which is trying to burst out the seams of his suit trousers.

“Fuck, Geralt, what a pair we are,” Jaskier says as he presses his own erection against the back of Geralt’s hand. “Feels like I’ve been rocking a semi for hours and we’ve only been here 45 minutes.”

“Shit, is that all? Not that I’m not having a lovely time, it just feels like it’s been way longer. I think I talked Triss into talking to Lamb,” Geralt says and Jaskier’s face breaks out into a wide smile.

“So making out isn’t your priority as much as freeing up the chair next to him was, huh?”

“Making out with you is always a priority, Jask. Anything with you is,” Geralt offers a genuine and perfect smile at Jask and he kisses it right off his face.

They return downstairs after about 15 minutes, clothes straightened and cocks tucked into their waistbands. Since they’ve been gone Eskel has brought over a tray of about 30 shots, which now sits like a centrepiece on their table. Triss is now sat next to Lambert and they are both blushing so deeply from cheeks to collarbone, it’s cute. The four other girls have disappeared somewhere, either to the bathroom or the dancefloor, leaving Esk sat alone opposite the two lovebirds. However, he’s 4 pints and goodness knows how many shots in, so he’s currently unaware and watching something on his phone.

Jaskier grabs a shot each for him and Geralt before they both down them, the alcohol hitting sharply at the back of Jaskier’s throat, making him cough. Shots while completely sober are never his thing, usually an end of the night affair to ensure good sleep or the inability to remember one’s name.

Eskel looks up from his phone. “The girls left me to go dance,” he says and then laughs, pointing to his phone screen, “Silly things, it’s just a cucumber.” Jask looks and sees a black and white cat jumping sideways, yowling at a cucumber on the floor.

Geralt smiles and mouths ‘go’ at Jask, his head gesturing toward the dancefloor, then sits down next to Eskel.

Jask, kisses his forehead and makes his way into the closed-off side room housing the dancefloors and DJ, bright flashing lights and a disco ball spinning overhead. He follows the sound of Essi’s voice singing over the music and soon finds them all dancing in a small circle. He joins in, dancing to his heart’s content, singing along with Essi to the 00s club anthems blasting through the speakers. Yen, Fran and Pris join when Cascada’s Everytime We Touch comes on, all of them shouting lyrics while jumping up and down. The bangers keep coming; they keep singing and dancing, only briefly pausing to gulp down the cocktails Yen buys them. The Long Island iced teas hit just right, the world around him starts feeling muted and soft. Dancing feels incredible — whether it’s from the endorphins or the constant jostling of the plug.

During a rendition of Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado, a familiar figure crosses the dancefloor and runs over. “My baby boy, have you come to dance with your promiscuous man?”

“How many cocktails have you had?” Geralt laughs. “Esk made me down about eight shots and two pints of some shitty ale so I could dance.” 

Jaskier whoops in celebration, dragging Geralt over to the girls dancing, hands in the air, backs together, asses bumping. Jask smiles, turns around, and grinds his ass against Geralt’s, jiggling and shaking it. To his surprise, Geralt laughs and joins in.

Yen shouts over the music, “Go, Ger! Shake that ass!” The other girls join in the chant before the two boys shake their booties in earnest, howling with laughter.

They keep drinking and dancing until the early hours, then say their goodbyes and tumble into taxis home.

Jask and Geralt barely make it through the front door before their hands are all over each other, undoing buttons and zips amid lust-filled kisses, clothes scattered throughout the house up to the bedroom.

Geralt crawls naked onto the bed and wiggles his ass. “Can’t believe I was shaking my ass in a club tonight.”

“I think Essi took a video, I need it. You looked fucking incredible tonight, loved dancing with you,” Jask says as he kneels on the bed, knees on either side of Geralt’s. With one quick motion and a loud gasp from Geralt, he pulls the plug out and pushes his cock into the awaiting hole.

He doesn’t hold back — no build-up, just straight to balls deep, rough pounding. He’s so wound up and relaxed at once, his cock throbbing with urgency that tells him this won’t last long, but his body feels light as a feather, like he could do this all day without tiring.

Geralt curses wildly beneath him, a stream of filthy words and encouragement to fuck him harder and deeper, saying “it feels so fucking good to finally have him inside instead of the plug” and to “keep filling him with come.”

“Fuck, I’m getting close already,” Jask moans, his ass still so full, his cock perfectly wrapped.

“Touch my cock and I’ll come with you, gods please stroke my dick, Jask. Let me come with you,” Geralt whines and begs. Jask obliges, reaching around, wrapping his fist around his lover’s cock, letting the motion of fucking him make Geralt fuck his fist.

“Fuck, Jask, fuck yes. Just like that.”

“Yeah, baby, you gonna come all over my hand while I fill this tight little ass again? Want me to countdown?”

“Fuck yes, count us down, Jask.”

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1. Be a good boy and come with me,” Jask cries out as his orgasm rockets through him. Geralt’s come coats his hand as he moans his release at the same time, his hole so tight around his cock it practically squeezes every last drop of come from him. Jask pulls out gently and lies on the bed next to collapsed Geralt, still face down in the blanket.

Geralt groans, a satisfied noise, stretches his arms above his head, then rolls over to face Jaskier — who licks Geralt’s come off his fingers like a cat who got the cream.

“Fuck, if I wasn’t still hard that would do the trick. You’re so fucking sexy,” Geralt says, voice thick with lust and alcohol.

“Good, now fuck me like you mean it. I don’t want to sit down tomorrow without feeling you. I want you to be rough. I’ll safeword if it’s too much, just please, use me. I need you to absolutely wreck me.”

Jask watches the amber in Geralt’s eyes nearly vanish in a sea of onyx, his face slackening, his cock pulsing. Jask relaxes into the bed, making himself pliable and easy to move.

~*~*~*~

Geralt’s refractory period is never long, but thirty seconds between coming and being this desperate again impresses even him. He eyes Jaskier head to toe, thinking of all the ways he wants to ruin him.

“Stand up,” his voice lower and more stern. Jask visibly shivers as he gets to his feet. “Turn around to face the mirror.” Jask does, turning toward the large wardrobes with floor-to-ceiling sliding mirrors. “Bend over slightly,” Geralt orders. Jask obeys.

Geralt, ever the gentle giant even when asked to be rough, slowly removes Jaskier’s plug, throwing it on the bed. Spitting on his fingers, he slides three inside easily, moving them in and out slowly, finding that sensitive skin inside each time and applying pressure.

“Fuck, Geralt, that could make me come again so quickly and I’m not even fully hard again.”

“Do you want to come again now on my fingers? See how many we can drag from you until you beg me to stop?” Geralt asks, massaging Jaskier’s prostate in slow circles, making his hands ball into fists at his sides. “You want to come again, don’t you? I haven’t even got my cock in you and you want to come again, poor baby.” He doesn’t stop massaging that spot, slowly applying more pressure.

“Yes, yes, yes, oh my god yes. Just like that, oh fuck, that’s going to make me come. Geralt, fuck, that’s…” Jask’s whole body shudders as his climax hits him.

Geralt removes his fingers and pushes the full length of his cock inside Jaskier’s waiting hole as he shivers and moans through the last waves of his orgasm. Geralt pulls Jask up so his back is straight against his chest, one arm loosely around Jaskier’s throat, the other slowly stroking Jask’s come down his length. He moves his hips, pistoning quickly, the sound of slapping skin filling the room.

“Look at the mess you made on the mirror. Watching me fuck you hard and fast just like you begged me for. Rubbing your come all over this pretty cock. Fuck, Jask, I want to feel you coming on my cock. You think you can come again?”

“I— I want to, so fucking badly. Use that ass, Geralt, it’s fucking yours. Keep rubbing the tip of my cock, holy fuck, yes, just like that. Don’t stop, don’t ever stop, it feels so good.”

Geralt bends his knees to change the angle, and he knows he’s got it right when Jask starts panting instead of talking. “Just there, it feels good when I rub my cock along there every time, huh? Makes it so easy to come over and over. Come on, Jask. I know you want to come on my cock. Let me see and feel you.”

Jask lets out a shaky moan. Geralt watches in the mirror as his face scrunches and a small stream of come pours over Geralt’s knuckles. The vice-like grip of his ass around Geralt’s cock and the debauched moans coming from Jask send Geralt flying over the edge. “Oh fuck,” he cries out as he continues to fuck them both through their orgasms.

He scoops Jaskier into his arms, kissing his sweat-slicked forehead, lowering him onto the bed. Giving him a quick clean with the blanket before taking it off the bed. He offers Jaskier some water and takes some for himself before tucking him under the covers and crawling in next to him.

“I love you everything,” Jask says quietly, sleep slowly claiming him.

Geralt holds him close. “I love you everything.”

Chapter Text

Triss watches Jask and Geralt walk off to do goddess knows what and as she returns her eyes to the table they meet with Lambert's. She offers him a shy smile before taking a deep breath and standing up, she brushes out the wrinkles in her dress, picks up her purse and drink and takes the few steps to the chair next to him. His ginger curls mimic her own in the way they aren't easily tamed and his chocolate brown eyes look up at her in anticipation. 

“Um, can I sit?” She asks, her cheeks heating as she goes to pull out the chair. “Yes, please do,” Lambert says, going to pull the chair out at the same time, their hands meeting. A feeling like an electric shock bursts along her fingers and she pulls her hand away to let him move the chair. He's trying to be a gentleman, she decides she should let him. She sits and scoots her chair in, her knee brushes against his and she stills, the heat in her cheeks burning so hot she takes a sip of her drink in an attempt to cool herself down. 

“So, how's the business doing?” Lambert asks casually, not seeming nearly as affected by this as she is. She starts to worry then that Geralt was seeing something that wasn't there. 

She takes another sip of her cocktail and starts talking about her little apothecary business she runs from her cottage. Talking about how her crops are going as she grows all her own ingredients, new recipes she's working on. And suddenly she sees it, the way he is looking at her like she was personally responsible for all the stars in the sky and each grain of sand on the beach. It was something akin to awe that shone in his eyes, like he would listen to her talk about shitty tomato crops for as long as she wanted as long as she kept talking. 

“Triss we are going to dance, wanna come?” Yen calls out. Triss looks at her with a look she hopes her best friend will understand, “maybe later?” Triss replies back with a smile. Yen just nods and grins, wiggling her eyebrows up and down before turning to catch up with the others. 

“I'm sorry Lambert, I've been talking about me constantly. Tell me about you, how's work going on the boat?” 

Lambert tells her about the ups and downs of restoring a boat. She swears she is listening and not just staring at the way his lips look as he speaks, or the way he gets animated and his curls flop over his eyes. Or the way his hands look when he gestures with them. Or what his… nope, she tries to refocus on what he is saying, moving her eyes back to his face. Realising with horror that she'd just been blatantly staring at his crotch. 

His face and neck are a shade of crimson as she knows hers are, she can feel the heat pouring off her. Embarrassment coiling in her belly she turns her face away.

“I am so sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me lately.” She says without looking at him. Noticing Jask and Geralt walking back to the table, Jask disappeared again and Geralt sits down next to Esk.

“Triss, will you look at me please?” Lambert says softly, like he's trying to coax a timid animal out of a cage. She turns to look at him, his eyes are full of that awe still but something else too, something so alluring Triss gets lost in them. 

“I mean this is the nicest and least crude way, but you looking like that at my crotch is the most action I've gotten in a long time. And, well, the fact it was you, honest to god, the most beautiful woman I've ever had the fortune of looking at. Whatever has gotten into you, has also got me. You are all I think of, and now that look in your eyes is going to seep into my dreams.” 

“Lambert… I- could we maybe find somewhere quiet to talk? This feels like a glass of wine under a blanket style conversation, not a cheap cocktail in a noisy bar.” 

“Oh, yes of course, I know of somewhere we could go.”

“Perfect,” Triss grins as they stand. She catches Geralt's eye and mouths “thank you” and blows him a kiss. He just smiles and goes back to his conversation with Eskel. 

Lambert opens the door from the bar into the warm humid breeze of the world outside. “You would've thought with all that rain this morning the humidity would have died down a little, it does a right number on my hair.” He says as they start walking down the pavement. 

“You're preaching to the choir there! So, where are we headed?” 

“Well, I have a blanket in my car so thought we could drive down to the seafront maybe? Thought we could grab some food and chat under the stars, and then I can drive you home. You got a taxi here right? I'm not driving you miles away from your car?” 

“Are you always this romantic?” Triss asks, brushing her hand against his, “or have you turned up the charm just for me?” 

“Can it be both? I just want you to have a good time, Triss. And if I'm being completely honest, there isn't always a blanket in my car, but I had a surge of courage coming out tonight. I was finally going to talk to you properly, and then you completely took me by surprise by coming over to me.” 

“You have your brother to thank for that, he may have told me to go for it and he may have moved Jask for me. Oh and everything sounds perfect, I got the bus into town so a lift would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.”

“Who would've thought it, Geralt the matchmaker, although I think we all know where that's coming from,” they laugh in unison. 

Lambert stops next to a Jaguar XK8 and unlocks it, the roof already down he opens the passenger door and bows at the waist as Triss gets in with a shocked expression on her face. “It's not just boats I restore, I mean she wasn't really a restoration,  she was in pretty good nick when I got her, but I gave her a new paint job and upholstery, upgraded the speakers and she's good as new,” Lambert says with a big grin, closing the door. 

“She's gorgeous, Lambert. My Dad used to have one of these, I have many wonderful memories as a child riding around in the summer with the roof down. It's all a little nostalgic,” Triss wipes at her eyes, tears lining them. “It's coming up to 7 years since we lost him, it's like a sign from him that I'm in exactly the right place.” 

Lambert reaches over and takes her hand, that same zap of electricity coursing down her fingers as he does. “I lost my Ma a few years back, it never gets easier I swear. But signs like this always bring them back to us, I always think of my Ma every time I see a robin. She loved the things, always had food out for them in the garden. And there was always a family nesting in the bushes at the back of the garden. It's funny isn't it, how a detail you never thought much of when they were here, means everything now they are gone.” 

“Yeah,” Triss sniffles, pulling a pack of tissues from her purse and dabbing at her eyes and nose, “that's exactly it. All the insignificant mundane things become the most important, because that's what made them them.”

“I'm so sorry I made you cry, that really is the opposite of how I wanted you to feel. Shall we go? Wanna hear her purr, she makes a lovely noise?” 

“Tears don't mean sad, just remembering the good times is all. Yes, let's go, let me hear her!” Triss says excitedly as she puts her seatbelt on. 

They drive in comfortable silence, the wind too loud in their ears to hear anything but the low rumble of the car anyway. 25 minutes later they are driving down the coastal road, past Geralt and Jask's house, coming to a stop a couple of miles down the road, a small car park with a path leading onto the beach. Lambert gets a blanket and two bottles of water from the boot and locks the car. 

“Shall we?” Lambert says, leading them down the path to a sheltered spot of the beach next to the groynes. He hands the water bottles to Triss as he lays the blanket out, "what do you fancy to eat, you can pick anything you want,” he asks as they both sit, backs to the wooden planks. 

“Anything?”

“Yep absolutely anything,”

“Umm, how about a veggie risotto with a nice salad, maybe some tomatoes, cucumbers, rocket. A nice bit of freshness to offset the richness of the risotto.” 

“Sounds fantastic, one sec,” Lambert gets out his phone and types frantically for a minute or two and then he puts it back in his pocket. “Give it an hour or so and dinner will be served.” 

“Okay now you're just playing tricks on me, how did you plan that?”

“I didn't, Coen just owes me a favour, so I'm cashing it in. Nothing fancy, just good old fashioned you scratch my back I'll scratch yours.”

“Oh, of course,” Triss says with a cheeky smile, “a blanket in one of my favourite cars, the beach under the stars and one of my favourite meals. It's almost like you had help from a certain black haired someone,” Triss elbows him in the side, “how else would you know my perfect date.”

“A good guess?” Lambert laughs out, “I may have been planning this out for a while in the hopes that one day I could make it a reality. Awfully cliche I know, Yen and I were talking over two years ago and started talking about our perfect dates. Esk definitely hadn't asked me to slyly find out hers to woo her. But we got to talking and she had a bottle of wine in her and she spilled yours, saying how you were a true romantic at heart and of course your date involved stars or something like that. Now I already had the car, and at that point, I didn't know how much I… um.. well, how much I liked you.” 

Triss looks over at him, his head hanging down, curls covering his eyes. She curled a finger under his chin and pushed it up to face her. “This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done to me, it's all so perfect,” she takes a breath looking into his eyes, “you're perfect.” 

“Triss…” Lamb tucks a stray curl that had blown into her face behind her ear and cradles the side of her face in his hand. “Can- can I kiss you?” 

“Thought you'd never ask,” Triss says, her hand moving from his chin to tangle in his fiery curls. They lean close and their lips touch, it's a quick kiss that leaves her wanting more but before she can get it he pulls away. “Come back here,” she says, crashing their lips together again, his tongue brushes against her lips and she opens letting him in. 

Time seems to slow as they kiss, their tongues exploring, small whimpers escape from them both. Triss can't get enough of him, he tastes like mint and smells like soft leather and citrus, it's intoxicating.

When they pull away finally, their foreheads touching, she moves and straddles his lap. He sits bolt upright and flushes pink, and as she sits she can feel why. Through his jeans and layers of her dress she feels him, she moves her hips ever so slightly so she rubs against him. 

“Fuck Triss, you're killing me. Sorry about… that,” Lambert breathes against her lips as she leans forward, her arms looping around his neck. 

“Please don't apologise, Lamb. Knowing that it's for me, kinda does it for me.”

“Definitely for you, with lips that soft, kissing me like that and now your perfect ass in my lap. Fuck yes, I'm so hard for you.” 

“Lambert,” Triss sighs, kissing him deeply, rocking her hips into his lap making him moan into her mouth. The noise threatens to unravel something lurking deep within her, something she hasn't let surface for a long time. 

Lambert's hands are in her hair, tracing down her spine, cupping her ass cheeks as she rocks. He is touching her everywhere like he is mapping out her body and storing it to memory. He palms her breasts gently and she pulls away from the kiss. “Your hands feel so good on me, just wish these clothes weren't between us.” 

“If we were anywhere but here they would already be scattered on the ground.” 

“We probably shouldn't have our first time together in the dark on a public beach, huh?” Triss states with a little giggle, 

“You are definitely right, just might take a minute for things to catch onto that notion.” 

“Can we keep kissing or is that just a quick way for us to get sand in unfortunate places?” 

“As much as having you grinding on my cock is literally all I want right now, I think kissing without you on my lap is a much safer way to ensure we stay mostly sand free.”

Triss begrudgingly agrees and slides off to sidle up next to Lamb, moving a hand of his to her waist. She leans her head on his shoulder and sighs, “you wanna know why I was staring at your crotch earlier?” 

“Sure, I was a bit paranoid you could see the semi I was sporting all evening,” Lambert says, planting a kiss on her hair.

“Even with how intently I was staring I couldn't see anything,  so don't worry. Although that wouldn't have been a problem, I hope you know that. No, I was staring because I couldn't stop my mind from wandering what you look like… down there,” 

“Oh really?” Lambert chirps smugly, “you can just say you want to see my cock you know. You could ask me to run around naked chasing the seagulls and I'd do it in a heartbeat.” 

Triss tries to laugh, her mind conjuring terrible, locked down deep things that she really really doesn't want to think of right now. “I struggle with swearing and other ‘crude words’” she says with finger quotes. “Not because I'm a prude or anything, they just dredge up some things from my past that I'd rather not go into right now, if that's okay?” 

“Hey, look at me,” Lambert says as he moves his body directly in front of hers, their knees touching. “You share or don't share as much or as little with me whenever you feel ready and comfortable. I'm sorry if I pushed you further than you were ready for.” 

“Lamb, remember who climbed on whose lap. You didn't push at all, I promise.” 

“Phew, that's okay then,” he wraps a ringlet of her hand round a finger and leans in for a tender kiss. Triss’ hands move to rest on his knees, “I would, you know, like to see. If that's still okay?” 

“A stunning woman kisses me and then asks to see what exactly those kisses do to me. How am I supposed to resist?” He reaches for his fly but Triss stops him, “can I?” 

“Yes, yes absolutely. Let me lie down so it's easier,” Triss scoots closer, lying down with him for a moment kissing his cheek and neck, earning her a rumble. Sitting up again she slowly undoes the button and zip of his jeans, lifting his shirt to reveal the strip of pale, hair splattered skin of his lower stomach. Trailing her fingers along the skin she dips them below the waistband of his boxers, tickling along his skin with her nails. Lambert's breathing is coming fast now as he watches her every move, it hitches as she rearranges the material, trying hard not to touch him as she reveals the length of him. It stands away from his body, thick, long and throbbing, Triss licks her lips without thinking and looks up to see Lambert biting his bottom lip staring at her with a hunger in his eyes.

“Goddess above Lamb, you can't look at me like that,” she feels her cheeks flame and her stomach clench at the sight of him. He is so hot, how she ever got so lucky to be sat here she doesn't know.

“You're the one staring at my cock like you want to eat me alive, fuck,” he says as he scratches a hand through his hair, “when we are alone together somewhere more suitable, I swear to god I'm going to ask you to do just that.”

Triss smiles and then rubs the precome beading at the tip of his cock off and sucks it from her thumb, groaning at the salty tang on her tongue. Her brain soon catches up to what she's just done and she stares down in shock at her hand. “I can't believe I just did that… it just looked so good. And you're so hot it's actually crazy and your… your cock is so pretty, I was doing it before the thought had even fully formed.” She was sure she was bright red and rambling, utterly embarrassing herself. 

“Hey, do you see me complaining? You are full of surprises aren't you, little blossom. You have my full enthusiastic consent to touch me, lick me, kiss me as often and whenever you want. I'm still waiting to wake up and find myself in bed and this all has been a dream.”

The distant sound of a car drifts closer and Lambert's phone begins ringing in his pocket. “Shit,” he says as he tucks himself back into his bottoms and straightens his shirt to cover the open fly and button. He answers the phone and stands. “ Hey, yeah I see you, pull into the next car park, you'll see my car. Thanks Coen, see you in a sec. Bye.” He hangs up, sliding the phone back into his pocket. 

“I'll be 5 minutes,” he says as he plants a delicate kiss to the top of her head. 

Triss checks her phone while he is gone, a message from Yen saying “You got this my sweetpea! Remember, you aren't there anymore. Relax and enjoy yourself! Love you 🌸💗” 

Triss smiles and nods to herself, it had been nearly 8 years since her last relationship ended and had taken her years of therapy to even be open to trying one again. When she realised two years ago she had a crush on Lambert it was the happiest and the most terrifying thing. Hours and hours of therapy later, and here she was. Kissing him, touching him. Saying one of the words that had caused her world to fall apart. She wanted to tell Lambert everything that had happened in the past, she didn't want there to be any secrets between them, but this was not the right place to start talking about abusive exes. 

She sees a message from Geralt as well “Hope you're having fun 🤎”, she hears car doors closing and puts her phone away as she sees Lambert walking over. A big hamper in one hand and another bag in the other. He smiles broadly as he spots her looking over, when he gets over to her he carefully places the bags down.

“Dinner is served!” He says sitting down and starting to unpack the bag, handing Triss a napkin, a large covered bowl and some cutlery. She takes the sheet of bamboo paper off the bowl and the divine smell of parmesan, herbs and a beautiful selection of veggies caresses her nose. 

“Oh wow, that smells incredible,” She says, picking up her spoon and taking the first mouthful. Flavour explodes on her tongue and she groans, “Oh, my, word. That is the best risotto I've ever had. That is insane.” 

Lambert is just smiling softly at her as he puts down a large salad bowl between them and pours two glasses of wine from the bottle of white he pulls out of the other bag. “I'm so glad you like it,” he says as he digs into his own bowl of risotto. 

They sit, eating and drinking, talking about anything and everything. It is easy conversation and before she knew it, it was two O'clock in the morning. The sea wind had turned chilly at some point so she is now wrapped up in Lambert's suit jacket while they sit against the wall. Her legs are stretched across his lap and he is softly rubbing the exposed skin on her calf as they talk. 

“...and that's why I can't look at that small scar on Eskel's face without laughing. The idiot.”

Triss laughs, “is that why when Yen took him horse riding he rode on the most timid little thing?”

“Yep,” Lambert laughed, “Um, changing the subject rather abruptly. This has been the best night of my life and I would really love to do it again, but with one slight change.”

“Oh,” Triss’ stomach flips with anxiety, “what were you thinking?” 

“That our next date I get to call you my girlfriend,” he says as his cheeks turn that lovely shade of pink. 

“That, my darling Lamb, sounds like the most wonderful thing you've ever said.” 

“Really!? Wow, this really must be a dream. I get to call you, the most beautiful woman in the world, my girlfriend, me!”

“You goofball,” Triss laughs, “are you free tomorrow? Apart from doing some harvesting in the garden I'm free all day.”

“Could I help you harvest? I'd love to see your garden,”

“I am never one to say no to some help in the garden, sounds great. Want to come by before lunch and I can make us something from what we harvest,” Triss says with a toothy grin, before a yawn creeps up on her. 

“Come on, blossom. Let's get you home,” Lambert says as he begins to pack up. 

There was that nickname again, Triss had never had a pet name from a boyfriend before and it made her heart swell and race. And she had a boyfriend!! Only took 6 years of being friends, 2 years of crushing on him and 1 incredible night. 

“Can I ask something?” She said as she handed him empty bowls and glasses. “Anything,” he replied, not looking up. “How long have you been, um, interested in me?” 

“Oooo umm,” he pauses what he was doing, thinking, “honestly, it's been a few years. I think I really realised at a party Yen held about 2 years ago her…”

“Masquerade ball,” they say in unison. 

“Same here,” Triss says as they stand to fold the blanket, “I couldn't stop staring at you all evening in that green velvet suit and fox mask, you looked all types of hot.”

“I looked hot ey? I paled in comparison to you, that gold dress hugged you in all the right places. It was hard to look at anything else, I realised that night when I couldn't stop thinking about you that I might like you more than just a friend.” 

“What a pair we are, two years of not saying anything. Geralt literally had to convince me I wasn't the only one who had it bad.” 

“We better make sure we make up for lost time now then.”

“Couldn't agree more,” Triss said as they made it back to the car with all their things. 

Lambert dropped off outside her gate, he had offered to walk her to the front door but she refused, they both needed sleep and him being even those few steps closer to her bedroom would have ended in a very sleepless night. 

“Thank you for everything, I had the best time Lamb. See you tomorrow,” Triss says before leaning across the middle of the car for a kiss, running a hand up the inside of Lambert's leg, “ sleep well.”

“Bye Blossom, see you tomorrow,” Lambert says, his head lolling back onto the headrest after their kiss, eyes fixed on her hand on his leg. “You better go before it breaks out of my trousers,” he laughs and Triss looks down to see the beautiful outline of his erection. A split second before she gets out of the car she runs her palm further up his leg and drags it across the rigid outline of him.

“Bye,” she says with a wink and leaves the car, walking up to her front door she blows him a kiss and waves before unlocking it and stepping inside. 

Her phone chirps in her bag as she closes the door, she looks and its a message from Lambert reading “so full of surprises, you cruel mistress 🌸” 

Triss replies “Just a little something to make you come back tomorrow wanting more 😘🦊” 

“It appears with you, I'm always craving more. Sweet dreams, I'll let you know when I'm home” Lambert replies and Triss hears his car pull away. 

Triss stomps her feet and does a little happy dance in her kitchen as she grabs a drink. She must reply to the multiple messages from Yen and Geralt but that would wait until breakfast. 

Triss went to bed with searing heat between her legs, and images of Lambert's throbbing length whirling in her mind. She fell asleep quickly and woke up with a big smile on her face. She makes her bed, has an everything shower and puts on loose trousers and a thin blouse, perfect for gardening and cooking. She definitely didn't put on her favourite matching set of lace underwear…

She makes herself some fruit and yoghurt for breakfast, and sits on her patio watching the birds while she eats. It is 10:15 and she is already counting down the minutes until she gets to see Lambert again. She grabs her phone from her pocket and sends him a message. 

“Good morning my handsome boyfriend, hope you slept well. Sat in my garden eating breakfast and can't wait to see you soon xx” 

The reply comes through nearly immediately.

“Well hello little blossom, can't tell how big my smile is right now after reading that. I've just got back from the gym so need to shower, but if you don't want to wait till 12 I can come round straight after? Wouldn't want to keep my girlfriend waiting 😉 xx”

“I'm not going to say no, but if you have things you need to do before coming over don't worry 😊 xx” 

“You are the only thing on my to-do list today. I'll be half hour xx”

Triss squeals and kicks her legs as she finishes the last mouthful of her breakfast. She quickly puts the few dishes and glasses in the dishwasher and lights a candle on the coffee table. Perching on the window seat she waits for the familiar green jag to pull up, she trots to the front door opening it as he is still getting a bag from the front seat. 

“Hello gorgeous,” he purrs as he walks up the path to the door, “you look radiant this morning.” Lambert loops his free hand around her neck, fingers playing in her hair as he kisses her. “I don't think being able to do that will ever get old.” 

Triss inhales deeply and nods, her eyes still closed, “yeah” she says dreamily, “come in, please.” She leads him through to the lounge, cozy sofas laden with blankets and pillows, large potted plants fill any free space along with crystals of all shape, colour and size. A large fireplace in the centre of the room with a tv mounted on the wall above it. 

“It's lovely in here, can't believe that after all these years I've never been in your house.”

“That's because we are friends with Jask and Yen who are both far more adept at hosting than I am. Please make yourself at home, do you have anything that needs to go in the fridge?” 

“I brought some wine, for blanket and wine time later,” he says as he pulls out her favourite bottle of rosé, she takes it through to the kitchen asking if he'd like a drink. “I have a protein shake so I'm good thank you.” 

Walking back into the lounge he is sitting with a leg over a knee drinking from a large bottle, his head tipped back. Triss watches as his throat works, relishing in how she doesn’t have to hide her gawking anymore. She follows a drop of condensation fall from the bottom of the bottle onto his crotch and swallows thickly. 

“Wanna join me?” Lambert asks, putting his leg and bottle down and holding up his arms welcoming her in. Triss walks over and instead of sitting next to him she crawls onto his lap straddling him. “Well this is familiar,” he croons, arms wrapping around her back. 

“Mmm, and no sand to be seen,” Triss kisses him then, deep and slow. She lifts up his t-shirt and runs fingers over his toned chest, brushing through the hair she finds there. His hands cup her ass and squeeze gently before moving to her legs, moving up until they reach her hips, untucking her shirt from her waistband searching for bare skin underneath. His fingers graze over her stomach and she feels her skin cover in goosebumps. 

Their kisses turn hot and heavy, hands growing more frantic, buttons being undone and shirts being removed. Triss is now sat in her bra with the front of her trousers undone, Lambert is topless, Triss currently undoing the zipper on his shorts. 

They pause their kissing, both panting and wide eyed. “Gardening can wait, I can't,” Triss says as she stands grabbing his hand and leading him upstairs. 

They barely make it to the bedroom before their trousers are off and they are both standing in their underwear. Triss knew he worked out but wow, his abs and arms are to die for now she can see them properly.

“Now this,” Lambert says, gesturing to her lacey bra and panties, “this I like very much.” 

“I can tell,” Triss smirks as she strokes his erection through his boxers, “goddess above you’re so hard.”

“Fuck, please take these off and touch me properly.” 

She does, as she pulls them down she lowers herself to her knees, looking up at him through long lashes. Up this close, his cock looks massive and she doesn't waste another second before taking it in her mouth. Getting lost in chocolatey brown depths of his eyes.

“Shit, Triss. Here I thought you couldn't get any hotter. Fuck that feels incredible,” Lamb rambles as she licks and sucks up and down the length of him. She takes her time, working her way to taking all of him down her throat and when her nose is nestled in the trim ginger hair she swallows. Lambert moans loudly, his hand coming to rest on the top of her head, not to push her down but to play with her hair. Her mouth pops off the end as she releases him, stroking him with one hand while she licks and sucks at his balls. 

“Fu- you are- so good, that feels so good.”

After taking him down her throat a few more times he pulls out, panting and holding up a finger. Triss just grins up at him and begins stroking him in earnest. “Ah, if you don't stop I'm going to come and I really don't want to,” 

“How close can you get before I have to stop?”

“Are you trying to kill me? Fuck, just like that baby. Oh shit. I'm getting close, oh fuck stop stop stop,” Triss immediately lets go and watches as he shivers and twitches. “Get on the bed,” Lambert says in a low voice, one that begs no argument, it sends a shiver down Triss’ spine.

Laying on her back in the middle of the bed, Lambert grabs her ankles and pulls her forward as he kneels at the end of the bed. Drapping her legs over his shoulders she props herself up on her elbows. 

“I have been a patient man waiting for this moment, last night I was so close to making you come on the beach. I knew you must've been soaked for me, just like you are now,” Lambert says as he runs his thumb over her wet panties, he presses harder and moves upwards, circling over her clit, Triss moans and Lambert's eyes roll back. “That's it, moan for me baby, let me hear how good it feels.” 

Lambert pulls her panties down, revealing herself to him for the first time. He stares at her for a moment, she is smooth except for a small patch at the very top that she leaves trimmed. “Fucking perfection,” he says, and then his mouth is on her and pleasure bursts from her lips in a long mmm. 

She's not entirely sure what exactly he is doing with his tongue but it feels divine, and then he adds fingers and her head falls back. She is moaning more now than she has ever,  and mixed with the sounds of her wetness it’s downright lude. 

Lambert crooks and moves his fingers in a way that makes her feel like she is going to combust. “Oh yes, that feels good, please don't stop” she moans out as he flicks her clit with his tongue in a rhythm that has her breathless. “Oh my- please Lamb that's going to make me come.” 

Lambert pauses only long enough to say “Fuck yes, come for me baby,” and she does, as soon as his tongue is back on her, stars explode in her vision. Her body writhes and bucks and shakes as she orgasms, Lambert's name being shouted as she moans. He doesn't stop, even when she's finished, he continues his ministrations. It's so intense that she comes again almost immediately, and she feels herself squirting as she releases. 

Shame coils up her back and she sits up, taking her legs off Lambert's shoulders. He is soaked, his beard is dripping wet and his chest is shiny with it. “I'm so sorry, let me get you a towel,” 

“What?” he looks genuinely confused, “Why on earth are you sorry? And don't bother with a towel, I plan on making you do that again and again.”

“Really? You aren’t grossed out by it?” 

“Very very much the opposite, I would drink you all day if I could. Fuck, Triss, has someone told you that its gross before? Because whoever that was deserves a punch for making you feel shit about something so incredibly sexy.”

After 8 years something clicks in Triss’ brain, something that thousands of pounds worth of therapy couldn't do. Something only this wonderful man in front of her could. 

“Your right, he does deserve a punch, and a fuck lot more too!” She laughs as she swears for the first time in years, “he was an awful human being and I can't believe that until this very moment I've let him have such a hold on me. This was not how I expected to tell you, with you covered in my squirt. But fuck, this feels good.” She laughs again and Lambert laughs with her, eyes full of awe and pride. “Kiss me then do that again.”

“Gods you're beautiful, I know I don't know the details but I'm still so proud of you. You look like you just had the world lifted off your shoulders.”

“I feel like it,” and she really does, a huge weight has just gone from her body and mind. “It's amazing what two orgasms from your hot as fuck boyfriend can do for the soul.” 

Lambert kisses her, slowly and full of passion, he unhooks her bra and lets it fall to the floor. Palming at each breast before taking her pert nipples into his mouth one after the other. “These are some great tits, just thought you should know,” he says with a goofy smile. 

“You're such a dork, but don't stop that feels so good, you make me feel so fucking good,” Triss giggles again. 

Lambert kisses from her breasts down her stomach, down each leg before settling between them again. He pushes her legs apart and looks at her like he hasn't eaten in weeks. He pushes two fingers in and finds that perfect spot straight away, with his other hand he applies pressure to her lower abdomen. And his tongue is doing that thing again, and Triss is lost to the pleasure. It doesn't take long before she can feel it building, “tell me to come again, it's so hot. I'm so close,” 

“You can do it baby, come on, fucking drench me with it. You're right there I can feel you, come on my face,” once again, as soon as his tongue hit her clit she was flying. He removed his fingers and rubbed at her hole as she came, making her squirt so much she could feel it running down her legs and ass. 

“Such a good girl for me, getting so messy on my fingers. Fuck its so hot. You doing okay? You should probably have some water, don't want you getting dehydrated.” Lambert said once her legs had stopped shaking and the fuzziness in her body set in. He hands her a mostly full bottle of water from her bedside table, she sits up and takes a few big gulps before handing it to him. 

“Lamb?”

“Yes blossom?”

“Please fuck me now, I've fantasised about your cock for so long, please show me how good it feels.” 

“Fuck, hearing that from you is something I've fantasised about, of course I'll show you. Make us both feel good. I'll get a condom.” 

“No, I'm on birth control. I want to feel all of you. I haven't been with anyone for 8 years so you don't have to worry about that unless you've been with someone.” 

“I haven't, but even if I had, I alway used condoms. You sure?” 

“Very.”

Lambert crawls on the bed and kisses her, pushing them both back into the mattress. Holding one of her knees bent against her chest and letting the other one fall out to the side, he lines himself up and slowly pushes in. He is so gentle, kissing her tenderly as inch by glorious inch stretches and fills her.

They both groan when he is fully buried deep within her, Lambert's eyes are closed, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, when she opens her own. Brushing his hair from his eyes and cupping his face, she says “Look at me while you mak-,” she pauses for second before continuing, “while you fuck me.” 

He opens his eyes and looks at her, his face has relaxed now and the corner of his mouth tugs up in a cheeky smirk. He starts to move, slow thrusts that let her feel all of him, it's so perfect she can't help but smile as she moans. 

Lambert slowly builds up speed, his abs rippling with every delicious thrust, it's so mesmerising to watch, so gorgeous. 

Lambert groans and looks at her “love hearing you say things like that,” he says and she realises she said it outloud. Her cheeks don't heat though as she replies “get used to it, I don't plan on stopping.” 

Lambert bends down to kiss her then and really starts pounding into her. The room fills with cries of pleasure and the sound of slapping skin.  Triss pushes against Lambert’s chest, just enough to pause him.

“Everything okay?” he asks, concern flickering across his features.

“It will be,” she purrs, a smirk curling her lips, “when you’re lying down so I can ride you.”

“Oh, fuck yes.” Lambert grins, eyes darkening with hunger. “I’ve dreamt about this, you know. Those perfect tits bouncing in my face while you make yourself come on my cock.”

Triss feels a pulse between her legs at his words. She swings a leg over and settles herself on top of him, straddling his thighs. His cock presses against her stomach, thick and eager.

“Come on, blossom,” Lambert says, voice low and rough. “Show me what you can do.” He grips her ass, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp.

She lifts herself up and guides him to her entrance, then slowly begins to sink down onto him.

“Goddess above,” she whimpers, breath hitching. “So deep…”

He’s barely halfway in.

“Keep going, baby,” Lambert growls. “There’s more where that came from.”

She does. Inch by inch, she takes him deeper, her eyes fluttering closed as she finally seats herself fully, her ass pressed to his thighs. She lets out a soft moan, hips shifting, grinding against him as her body adjusts to the overwhelming fullness.  Triss rises onto her knees, his cock dragging deliciously against all the right places, then drops back down with a wet slap.  Lambert’s eyes roll back, a guttural growl rumbling from deep in his chest.

She starts to move slowly, savouring the stretch, the fullness, the way each motion sends sparks dancing along her spine. Her rhythm builds, steady and purposeful, and she watches Lambert’s face twist in bliss- flushed, awestruck, beautiful . She grinds her hips in slow, deliberate circles as she sinks back down, angling just right to make his cock brush that spot inside her, the one that sets her nerves alight and makes fire bloom in her veins.  Triss lowers a hand between her legs, fingers gliding down with practiced ease. She’s soaked, slick enough that every pass over her clit sends another jolt of pleasure through her. A coy smile curves her lips as she begins to toy with herself, circling gently, teasing herself. Each stroke pulls her closer to the edge.

“That’s it, blossom,” Lambert groans, voice ragged. “Show me how you like to touch yourself. Show me how you make yourself come.”

His hands grip her hips tighter as he watches, mesmerized. “Fuck, that’s so hot, Triss. You’re so tight around me…it’s nirvana.”

“Tell me when to come,” Triss manages between moans, her voice trembling. Her fingers work her clit in exactly the way she knows will push her over. She’s so close she can barely hold it.

“Shit,” Lambert breathes, eyes locked on the place where their bodies meet. “You gonna be a good girl and come on my cock, little blossom?”

The words detonate inside her. She shatters around him, her legs locking around his thighs as her body convulses, the orgasm tearing through her with blinding intensity. Stars burst behind her eyes. She cries out, raw and wild.

“Fuck yes. Good girl,” Lambert groans. “Coming on my cock so hard, just like that. Keep going, give it all to me.”

His hands slide to her ass, lifting her just enough so he can thrust up into her at a brutal pace. The sound of skin against skin echoes in the room, his moans tangled with hers. Her orgasm hasn’t even finished before another builds, climbing sharp and fast, pulled straight from her soul.

“Oh fuck, Lamb, I’m going to—fuck, that’s so good,” Triss cries out, voice breaking as tears sting her eyes. The pleasure is too much, too sharp, too sweet. It crashes over her, unstoppable.

“I’m right there with you,” Lambert groans, thrusting hard. “Come with me, Bloss.”

His eyes squeeze shut, his face twisted in concentration, every muscle straining as he drives into her. Triss can’t speak. She can’t breathe. Her orgasm crests and then crashes over her, white-hot and all-consuming. Her body locks up, trembling violently.

She barely registers Lambert’s hips stuttering until he roars his release with her, voice raw and deep. She feels his cock pulse inside her, the warmth of him spilling out, and somehow— somehow —it drags her even deeper into the waves of her climax.

Their breathing is ragged, bodies slick with sweat, still trembling from the force of it all. Triss collapses against Lambert’s chest, her cheek pressed to his collarbone, heart thundering against his. He wraps his arms around her instantly, holding her like she’s something precious. 

Neither of them speaks for a long moment. There’s only the sound of their breath, the distant hum of day through the window, and the soft thud of their slowing heartbeats syncing.

“You okay?” Lambert asks quietly, voice hoarse but warm. One hand drifts up her spine in soothing strokes.

She nods against him, breath catching as the aftershocks ripple through her. “Yeah. That was… incredible.”

He presses a kiss to her temple, lingering. “You were incredible.”

Triss smiles softly, fingers tracing absent patterns across his chest. “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

“Like what?”

She lifts her head enough to meet his eyes, open, vulnerable, still swimming with the echo of pleasure. “Like more.”

Lambert’s gaze softens, and he cups her face in one rough palm, thumb brushing the dampness beneath her eye. “It is more,” he says. “At least, it is to me.”

Her smile trembles at the edges, and she leans in to kiss him, slow this time, all lips and feeling, no urgency. Just the quiet promise that whatever’s bloomed between them tonight isn’t going anywhere.

Eventually, he helps her up, both of them wincing and laughing softly as they disentangle. Lambert grabs a clean towel from the bathroom and gently wipes her down, careful and attentive, murmuring praise between each kiss to her shoulder or hip. Triss returns the favor, brushing back his hair and pressing kisses along his jaw as she cleans him up.

Lambert pulls her close, her back to his chest, and buries his face in her hair.

“You smell like sex and flowers,” he mutters.

She laughs, the sound warm and full. “You smell like sweat and smugness.”

He snorts. “Can’t help it. Just had the best day of my life and it's not even midday.”

Triss reaches back and finds his hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Me too.”

****

They laze in bed for an hour, kissing and mapping every inch of each other’s skin, until Lambert’s stomach rumbles.

“You hungry? I did promise lunch,” Triss says, beginning to sit up.

“I am, and you did, but can I enjoy you being in bed with me naked a little while longer?”

“Who said anything about getting dressed? I plan to quickly pick some tomatoes from the garden, make some sandwiches, and then be right back in your arms. I don’t plan on getting dressed all weekend if you’ll oblige a lady’s desires.”

“Food, naked goddess, and more sex… sounds like you just made the perfect weekend plans, Blossom. Come here,” he says, pulling her back down onto the bed. His fingers dance across her skin, followed by those soft, kiss-swollen lips.

****

They don’t end up getting lunch for another hour after Lambert declares that her delicious pussy is all the sustenance he needs to survive. Triss’ argument dies on her tongue as he laps at her clit, driving her to orgasm twice more before his stomach growls so loudly she can’t help but giggle.

“Come on, let me feed you actual food. And then, if you absolutely must, you can continue making me come all day and night,” Triss says with a lilt in her voice and a cheeky grin.

“Oh, well, I must. It’s my job as boyfriend to make you come so much you forget your own name and how to use these sexy long legs of yours.” He licks his lips as she stands, his eyes roaming over her curves, the hunger in his gaze almost sending her to her knees.

“And what’s my job as girlfriend, then?”

“To be the smart, incredibly gorgeous, and delicious woman you are, and to let me ravish you,” he says, so casually, so unaffected. Triss feels her face burn and her centre ache to be full of him again.

Chapter Text

Geralt has a plan. One that’s been simmering in the back of his mind ever since last week, when Jaskier climbed into his lap mid-work, straddled him in his office chair, and kissed him until his brain emptied out. Today, with Jask out of the house, he finally has the chance to set it in motion.

The desk is a battlefield- tangled cables, coffee-ringed scraps of paper, the evidence of too many late nights. He rolls up his sleeves and attacks it with grim determination. Every cable coiled, every note stacked neatly, every empty mug banished to the kitchen. By the time he’s done, he wants the surface clear, ready for what he’s planned. Geralt hefts another bin bag, the weight of cables and crumpled notes pulling at his arm as he carries it outside. The ocean wind meets him immediately, snatching a few loose pages from the top of the pile. They spin away in erratic circles, skimming across the patio before collapsing into the flowerbeds along the path. He sighs, stooping to gather them, when movement catches his eye.

A ginger blur emerges from the hydrangeas. Roach pads forward, tail high, her thick fur threaded with petals and cobwebs, twigs clinging like trophies from whatever adventure she’s been on.

“Roach,” Geralt says, his voice softening. “Where have you been, hm? Out conquering the neighbourhood again? Want some snacks?”

Her answering chirp is immediate, followed by a sideways dash toward the door, as if she hasn’t eaten in years. Geralt shakes his head, chucking the rescued pages into the bin as he follows. “Yeah, thought so,” he mutters, ushering her inside before the wind can tangle them both.

“Come on, you menace. I can’t get inside if you turn yourself into a rug,” Geralt laughs. Roach sprawls across the threshold, paws batting at his slippers with theatrical determination, her meows sharp and insistent.

“Yes, yes, I love you too, you little rascal,” he sighs, stepping around her and reaching for the treat jar. That earns him an immediate purr, her tail flicking with smug triumph.

Once she’s deemed the tribute sufficient—crunching the last morsel with a satisfied meow—Roach flicks her tail and heads upstairs. Geralt doesn’t need to follow to know where she’s going. Her throne awaits: the cushioned window seat they built just for her, positioned at the exact spot she used to haunt every day. From there, she chirps at gulls and cormorants as though commanding the entire coast.

Geralt shakes his head with a low chuckle, watching her vanish up the stairs, queen of her seaside domain.

Geralt heads back to his office, the air still heavy with the mingled scents of stale coffee and machine heat. The space hums with the quiet thrum of electronics, post-it notes clinging stubbornly to every edge of his monitors like bright, accusing eyes. Cables sprawl across the desk as though trying to reclaim the territory he just fought to clear.

He plants his hands on the desk, surveying it with a hunter's focus. It’s only ten in the morning. Six hours until Jaskier comes home six hours to strip this battlefield clean and get it ready. For his plan.

*~*~*~*

Jaskier grins as he packs his guitar, still glowing from an afternoon at the retirement home. The old songs always light the room, and their stories linger with him long after he leaves. By three o’clock, he’s said his goodbyes, promised to return next week, and catches the bus back toward their seaside village. He makes his usual stops—picking up bread, milk, a wedge of cheese. At Triss’ garden gate, he waves, and she hands him a basket of vegetables still warm from the sun: heirloom tomatoes, leeks, potatoes, and a punnet of raspberries that barely survive the walk home. He eats half before he reaches the end of her lane. Headphones in, he drifts along the winding path, Essi’s latest demo in his ears. He hums along, making mental notes for Book Club on Wednesday, until the gulls and the crash of surf pull him back into the present. The salt air fills his lungs. He dreamed for years of living by the coast, and now here he is—home with Geralt in a house that feels like it was always meant for them.

When he steps inside, two things greet him: the scent of his favourite dessert and the sound of piano through the speakers. “Geralt, I’m home,” he calls, unbuttoning his coat. “Something smells incredible, darling.”

He doesn’t make it far. The tomatoes tumble from his bag, scattering across the floor, forgotten the moment he glances into the office. The desk is bare. Cleared of every scrap and cable. And in the chair—lounging like a king waiting to be worshipped—is Geralt. Naked, aroused, his broad hand stroking slowly over his cock, mouth parted, eyes dark and hungry. He looks up, meets Jaskier’s gaze, and winks. A crook of his finger beckons.

“Welcome home, baby.”

Jaskier coughs, though the crooked smile on his lips betrays him. “Desk looks good. Any particular reason?” He already knows the answer.

“Why don’t you come and find out?”

Shirt buttons scatter as Jaskier saunters forward. He sinks to his knees between Geralt’s thighs, tilting his head up with a wicked grin. “Thank you for the surprise,” he murmurs, hand curling around the hard length before him. “It’s such a big one. However will I repay you?”

*~*~*~*

Geralt groans when Jaskier’s hand joins his own, stroking him with perfect pressure, slow and steady. Jaskier knows every button, every spot that makes him grunt low in his chest. And when his mouth slides over the flushed tip, heat and wet surrounding him, Geralt’s vision nearly whites out.

“Fuck,” he rumbles, the sound alone makes Jaskier’s cock visibly twitch. Geralt knows what his voice does to him. He’s used it to torment him before—low growls in public places, whispers timed to unravel him until they had to duck away and get him off in some shadowed corner. Now, here, he uses it to coax him further, until Jaskier is moaning around his cock, switching between lips and hands, leaving Geralt gasping.

But Geralt has plans. He cups Jaskier’s chin, urging him up into a bruising kiss, tongues clashing, his other hand palming Jaskier’s ass. The whimper that spills from him says enough. Geralt pulls back, rummaging in the desk drawer until his hand closes around the bottle of lube he stashed earlier. He sets it down with a look that makes Jaskier shiver.

“Bend over the desk, little one. Let me see you.”

Jaskier obeys, leaning over the freshly cleared surface, spreading himself shamelessly. He looks back with a wicked smile, fingers parting his cheeks to bare himself completely.

“Open up for me, baby. I want to watch.” Geralt leans back in his chair, stroking himself as he watches Jaskier press slicked fingers into his own body, slow at first, then faster, desperate.

“Ger, please. I want your fingers.”

“You’ll get them. But start for me first. Show me.”

And Jaskier does, moaning, rocking back on his hand, fucking himself open until Geralt can’t take it anymore. He stands, grabs Jaskier’s wrist, pulling it away. “Good boy. But you want something else, don’t you?”

“Fuck me,” Jaskier begs, eyes wild. “Please, give me your cock.”

Geralt doesn’t need to be told twice. He slicks himself and pushes in, slow, careful, until he’s fully seated, both of them trembling with the stretch and heat. He leans over Jaskier’s back, growling into his ear. “Always so perfect for me. Taking me so well, bent over my desk like this.”

Jaskier whines, pushing back, and Geralt starts to move—long, deep thrusts, building until the slap of skin and Jaskier’s cries fill the office.

“Jask, baby. I want you to cum untouched. Think you can do that for me?”

“Yes—yes, please, Ger,” Jaskier gasps, shuddering as Geralt angles just right, slamming against his prostate until he’s shaking apart, spilling onto the floor and side of the desk. His ass clamps down, milking Geralt until Geralt roars, spilling deep with a sound loud enough to startle the gulls outside.

*~*~*~*

“Gods above, Ger,” Jaskier pants, sliding off the desk with trembling legs. Geralt’s come trickles hot down the inside of his thigh, sticky and obscene. He grins wickedly despite the mess. “You’ll be the death of me one of these days—and I’ll go to her with arms wide open, if it means you fuck me like that again.”

Geralt smirks, utterly unrepentant. “Give me five minutes and I will. Happily.” The look on Jaskier’s face is so startled, so wanton, that Geralt breaks into a low laugh. “Or maybe tomorrow, then?”

“No, no,” Jaskier shoots back instantly, lips quirking into a grin. “You said five minutes. You can’t take that back now.” He leans forward, brushing a soft kiss to Geralt’s cheek, gentle where everything else has been rough. “Let me clean up a bit and I’m all yours again. You sure did make a mess of me.” A wink. He knows that’s exactly what Geralt intended.

“Good.” Geralt’s voice is a rumble of promise. He swats Jaskier’s ass as he strides past. “Meet me on the sofa. Ride me till the stars come out, skylark.”

Jaskier watches the slow, heavy sway of Geralt’s cock as he walks away, already stiffening again. His throat goes dry. Oh, this is going to be a night. He quickly runs to the bathroom to wipe off his legs, and then sneaks a few mouthfuls of chocolate cake on his way past. 

When he finally pads into the lounge, he stops dead in the doorway. Geralt’s already on the sofa, one arm braced along the backrest, the other stroking his cock with steady, languid pulls. A low moan spills from his chest—so raw, so unguarded—that Jaskier aches to bottle it, record it, play it on repeat like his favourite song. Geralt squeezes himself, thumb circling the head, then drags the other hand up to tease his own nipples. His lips part on a hushed “fuck,” head tipping back as his hips twitch, cock slapping against his stomach as he releases himself.

Jaskier lingers, throat tight, until Geralt cracks one eye open. “You gonna stand there gawking, or are you coming to join me?”

Jaskier leans against the doorframe, lips curling into a smirk. “I might just stay here. You’re the pinnacle of sex appeal right now, love. Watching you edge yourself might become my new obsession.”

Geralt’s laugh rumbles low, his voice dipping an octave darker, meant only for Jaskier. “Hmm. Please. You do it so much better than I do.”

That tone makes Jaskier’s toes curl against the wooden floor. He swallows hard. “Well, since you asked so nicely… who am I to deny you the pleasure only I can give?”

He crosses the room with a predator’s grace, climbing onto Geralt’s lap. The heat of him, the stretch, is immediate as he sinks down onto Geralt’s cock—slick and needy, taking him to the hilt in one long, shuddering slide. His hands lace behind Geralt’s neck as he leans down into a kiss that steals the air from both their lungs.

Geralt thrusts up the second Jaskier nips his lip, driving so deep that Jaskier moans straight into his mouth. The kiss breaks into gasps and wet sounds as Jaskier starts to move, slow and torturous, rolling his hips with deliberate cruelty. He leans into Geralt’s throat, nipping at the strong line of it, sucking little bruises that will last days. Geralt’s breathing rasps under him, sharp intakes of air as Jaskier speeds up, bouncing harder for a few strokes before slowing again, just to tease.

Jaskier knows this game. He could draw it out for hours, keep Geralt simmering without tipping him over. It’s the perfect balance—though his own cock throbs between them, slicking their stomachs with precome. He ignores it, for now. He can wait. He wants to play.

Geralt’s hands suddenly grip his ass, halting his movement. His face is blissed-out, sweat beading at his hairline. Jaskier smiles, wickedly. “Getting close already, darling? I’ve barely even begun.”

Geralt growls low, hot against his ear. “Do your worst, Pankratz. You know I can take it.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that.” Jaskier laughs, dark and delighted. He slams back down, faster now, harder, the sound of skin on skin echoing sharply through the lounge as his ass meets Geralt’s thighs again and again.

*~*~*~*

Jaskier has always had a mouth on him, but tonight he’s positively scandalous. Every word drips filth, every breath another vivid image meant to wreck Geralt’s composure. He isn’t even sure Jask realises how much it gets to him—how the sharp edge of his words is the same as Geralt’s voice is to Jaskier, designed to unravel him. And gods, the man is relentless. He rides him hard and hungry, lifting almost completely off his cock before slamming back down, tight heat swallowing him whole. The burn in Geralt’s stomach builds fast, dangerously fast. He knows his limits, knows one wrong push will have him finished. His refractory period might be short, but still—he wants to see how long he can hold out. He wants to take everything Jaskier gives him.

“Jask,” he warns, voice rough.

Jaskier only grins, slowing to a stop for a moment before grinding his hips in slow, sinful circles. Not enough relief, just enough to make Geralt’s restraint begin to crack.

“Jask, fuck. Please. You—hah—you need to stop.”

But Jaskier doesn’t. He lifts and drops just slightly, teasing, every little motion like a spark in tinder.

“Let’s see how close we can get you,” he says with a wicked smile, head thrown back in abandon. “Just a few more, and I’ll stop. I promise. Hold on for me, baby.”

Geralt clenches his jaw so hard his vision blurs, fingers digging bruises into Jaskier’s ass as his whole body shakes with the effort of holding back. His breath tears out of him in short gasps, head swimming. So close. Too close.

“One more,” Jaskier murmurs, voice faint against the roar of pleasure in Geralt’s ears. “You can do it.”

Jaskier rises and sinks slowly, deliberately, and then stills. Geralt’s entire body screams to move, to thrust up and take his release, but he forces himself to stay grounded, every muscle trembling with restraint. The need is overwhelming, a live wire thrumming through his bones.

Jaskier doesn’t move, doesn’t even speak, perfectly still because he knows anything could send Geralt over. It’s the closest Geralt has ever been without falling, his climax a single heartbeat away. When the immediate wave ebbs, Geralt finally exhales, realising only then how tense he was from head to toe. He opens his eyes to find Jaskier watching him with a smug, devastating smile.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” Jaskier coos, brushing damp curls from his forehead. “Wanna keep going?”

Geralt cups his cheek, thumb dragging over the sharp line of his jaw, and kisses him deep. “You’re too good at that. Keep going. I’m not stopping until you’re dripping my come all over this sofa.”

Jaskier moans into the kiss, already rolling his hips again. His fingers tangle in Geralt’s hair, tugging to bare his throat, and his mouth follows, licking hot stripes up the column of skin, teeth scraping over the spot where Geralt’s pulse hammers.

*~*~*~*

Seeing Geralt like this is the hottest thing Jaskier has seen in a long while. They’ve played this game before—Geralt teased to the edge while they lounged on the sofa, Jaskier slyly denying him when he could feel him getting close—but this… this is something else. Another dimension entirely. And fuck, he’s loving every second of it.

He’s never been good at repression himself. Once desire takes hold, it consumes him, a single driving need to come. He can feel himself creeping closer, the pull winding tight in his belly. But not yet. Not until he sees Geralt’s face scrunch up like that again, two more times, at least, before he’ll give in. So this time, he doesn’t bother with slow and steady. He braces himself and rides with everything his legs have left to give, slamming down hard and fast, the sound of flesh on flesh ringing sharp through the lounge. The noises Geralt makes beneath him, guttural and broken, only spur him on, his skin hot with the thrill of it.

It takes only minutes before Geralt’s eyes screw shut, muscles locking taut. Jaskier risks a few more pounding thrusts before stopping dead, right as Geralt chokes out a strangled, “I’m gunna—” followed by a growl of pure restraint.

“Not yet, baby,” Jaskier pants, stroking his chest. “One more, then I’ll give you a break. Okay?”

Geralt just nods, jaw clenched, breath ragged. Slowly, agonisingly, his body unwinds beneath him.

Jaskier gives him a minute to come back to earth before moving again. This time, he doesn’t hold anything back. He lets himself sink fully into it, chasing that line with reckless abandon. His thighs burn, his lungs seize, but he doesn’t stop. He revels in the stretch, the fullness, in the way Geralt’s panting moans mix with his own, a harmony of pleasure that thrums right through him.

He’s so close, almost lost, when Geralt’s hands suddenly clamp down on his thighs. “Oh fuck—stop, stop, stop.”

Jaskier freezes instantly, opening his eyes to find Geralt slick with sweat, chest heaving. He’d lost himself, hadn’t been watching Geralt’s signs, and pushed him too far.

They stay locked together, not moving, until Geralt finally cracks a laugh, smiling wide. “Shit, Jask. That was unbelievably close. Thought I was finished. Made the mistake of looking at you. You’re so fucking sexy when you get lost in it.”

The words send warmth flooding through Jaskier. With a soft kiss to Geralt’s lips, he finally lifts off with a wet, satisfying pop and collapses beside him on the sofa. His cock rests flushed and leaking against his stomach, aching for relief. He smirks, gesturing down.

“I want to come down your throat, if you’d be so inclined.”

Geralt flashes him a toothy grin, lupine and fond all at once. He doesn’t waste a second, leaning down and swallowing him to the hilt in one smooth motion. His nose brushes Jaskier’s trimmed curls, the heat of his throat surrounding him. Jaskier groans, head falling back, fingers tangling in white hair. His fiancée, the love of his life, with his nonexistent gag reflex and endless hunger, is taking him down like a starving man.

*~*~*~*

Geralt worships his fiancé, tracing hot, deliberate licks along Jaskier’s cock, drawing high-pitched whimpers and shudders that run through him like electricity. He knows he could make him come instantly, but he wants to savour every reaction, every twitch of muscle, every gasp that escapes Jaskier’s lips.

Jaskier’s legs shake around Geralt’s head, his fingers curling into the sofa as he hisses and curses, helpless beneath him. Geralt takes his time, teasing, swirling his tongue over the most sensitive spots, watching his love unravel slowly, deliciously. After a few torturous moments, Geralt lifts his head slightly, voice low, gravelly, commanding. “Come on, Jask… fucking drown me.”

Barely twenty seconds later, Jaskier convulses on the sofa, a hot, uncontrollable stream of come spilling into Geralt’s mouth, down his throat. Geralt swallows every last drop, savouring the taste, letting it fill his mouth. He keeps Jaskier close, fingers brushing over thighs, hips, the slight tremor that remains even after release. The room hums with their shared heat, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

*~*~*~*

Jaskier’s legs are still shaking a good few minutes later as he sits up and stretches, a lazy smile curling over his lips. Geralt lounges nearby, looking exactly like the cat who got the cream.

“Darling,” Jaskier says, voice low and teasing, “that was obscenely good. Your turn now. I’m not stopping until you flood me.”

Climbing on, Jaskier shudders from the oversensitivity from his orgasm. He lets out a low, breathy moan as he settles onto Geralt’s thick cock. He starts slow, letting his legs adjust, but soon picks up the pace. His hands grip the back of the sofa for leverage as he bounces, hips rolling with abandon. Watching Geralt slowly unravel beneath him, seeing his muscles tense and hips twitch, he gives him an approving look.

“Go on… fuck me hard, Ger. Take what you need.”

“Fuck… you are perfection,” Geralt grunts, hands gripping Jaskier’s hips tight, holding him in place. His first thrust is eye-rollingly deep, he drives into Jaskier so hard and fast that stars seem to explode behind his eyes, his moans loud enough to echo in the room.

Geralt’s body tenses, rhythm faltering as he shouts his release into Jaskier’s shoulder. His muscles quake in pleasure, thick ribbons of come filling him and dripping down his cock. It keeps coming, pooling onto the blanket beneath them.

“Holy… fuck,” Geralt pants, beads of sweat dotting his nose. “I—I don’t think I can move.”

“Then don’t,” Jaskier murmurs, brushing a hand over Geralt’s damp chest. “I’ll go clean up, and we can curl up, watch a movie, and get takeout. You did so good, darling. Rest now.”

“Sounds perfect,” Geralt says, lifting his head to kiss Jaskier, voice soft. “I love you so much, my skylark.”

“Love you too, my incredible man,” Jaskier replies, sliding slowly off Geralt’s lap. “Think you can lift up so I can grab the blanket?” Geralt does, cleaning himself off with it before handing it over.

Jaskier wipes himself with it, then passes the TV remote to Geralt. “Choose a movie. I’ll be right back,” he says, heading off to clean up.

Jaskier returns a few minutes later with a fresh blanket and two plates of chocolate cake. “Ready?” he asks quietly. A soft snore is the only response. Smiling, he sets the cake down on the coffee table and drapes a clean blanket over Geralt, settling beside him as Geralt’s head lolls onto his shoulder. Closing his eyes, Jaskier lets sleep roll over him too, the warmth of their closeness grounding and perfect.

*~*~*~*

Geralt wakes in Jaskier’s arms on the sofa. The chocolate cake and film lie abandoned, and Jaskier snores softly above him. Checking his phone, he sees it’s 9 PM. A small smile tugs at his lips as he opens the food delivery app and orders Jaskier’s favourite: Vietnamese. That gives him just enough time, half an hour or so, to wake his sleeping beauty.

He reaches up, gently moving Jaskier’s head from his chest to rest on his shoulder instead. Sliding an arm behind him, he rubs Jaskier’s shoulder, and he stirs, shifting until his head lies on Geralt’s lap, covered by the blanket. Geralt smiles to himself, pulling out his phone to capture the moment. Bending slightly, he frames his face alongside Jaskier’s in the shot, snapping a photo fiance fast asleep. He looks impossibly beautiful, long lashes brushing his cheeks, brown curls forming a soft halo in Geralt’s lap.

Geralt runs his fingers through the curls, massaging Jaskier’s scalp gently. Jaskier moans softly in his sleep, nuzzling further into Geralt’s lap.

“Jask, baby… time to wake up,” he murmurs. No response. “My love,” he tries again, rubbing along Jaskier’s back, “time to wake up.” Still nothing. He adds, with a grin, “I ordered Pho.”

Jaskier’s head lifts slowly, big blue eyes blinking up at him. “Really? Curry noodle soup?”

“Yes, love. It’ll be here in…” Geralt checks the updates on his phone, “…fifteen minutes.”

“Mmm,” Jaskier murmurs sleepily, stretching his arms to loop around Geralt’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too, baby. Sorry to move you so soon after waking, but I gotta pee.”

Jask groans in protest as Geralt carefully lays him back down and slides a cushion under his head.

“Plus, I can’t answer the door like this, can I?” Geralt gestures vaguely to his naked body.

“I’m not complaining,” Jaskier gleams, eyes roaming hungrily over him.

“Of course you’re not,” Geralt says, bending to kiss the top of Jaskier’s head, “but I’d rather not give the delivery person a fright. You warm enough? Want me to grab you some joggers while I’m upstairs?”

“And deny you this view? I think not,” Jaskier giggles, tossing the blanket aside to reveal his own naked body beneath.

“I’m not complaining,” Geralt echoes, taking in every inch of the stunning man sprawled across the sofa.

He returns from upstairs with joggers of his own and an oversized t-shirt for Jaskier. He knows it won’t be long before Jaskier complains he’s chilly once he leaves the blanket.

The doorbell rings not five minutes later. The young delivery woman doesn’t hide her stare as he opens the door. The brisk ocean wind tousles his chest hair, apparently distracting enough that she forgets to ask for a tip before leaving.

Geralt grabs a couple of beers from the fridge, along with chopsticks and soup spoons, and carries the large bag of food back to the lounge. He sets the boxes on the coffee table and sinks onto a cushion on the floor. Jaskier joins him, wrapped in the oversized t-shirt and blanket, humming happily as he digs into his soup.