Chapter Text
Geralt pressed Jaskier down every time he arched up. He shouldn’t enjoy the way that Jaskier whined each time, but he did. Because he knew that the begging would start soon and he liked that even more. He thrust into Jaskier and sure enough, “Geralt please, please. I need to move. Please let me move a little. I promise to be good.”
“You promised to stay in camp, while I dealt with the werewolf, what did you do?” His eyes were still black from the potion, and every sound and smell was enhanced. Jaskier reeked of need. Need for movement, need for sex.
Need for Geralt.
It was the only scent that never overwhelmed him, that he reveled in. He pulled out of Jaskier even though it just about killed him, because he wanted to stay buried in his bard, that perfect feel of him around Geralt’s cock. But he wanted more from Jaskier. And he was almost crying at Geralt pulling out of his body. Geralt turned him over onto his back. “What did you do?” Geralt said as he flicked a rock hard nipple. Jaskier shouted in a mix of pain and arousal.
And need.
“You screamed! I followed in case you needed me.”
“To what, sing a werewolf to death?” Geralt snarled. “You could have been hurt. You stay still, so you stay safe.”
Jaskier was crying in need, in desperation but he was also glaring up at Geralt. Geralt could drown in that mix of hunger, love, defiance. Of need. “I will never not come when I hear you scream,” he snarled.
“Well, maybe not coming tonight will teach you a lesson.” Geralt pushed into Jaskier’s body and began to thrust hard. No warm up, no romance. He just fucked into Jaskier as hard as he could, as hard as he needed to burn on the potions. He ignored Jaskier’s cock. Just kept himself up enough that they were barely touching except thighs, and fucking. He snarled when Jaskier reached up to pull him down. “I said no moving, or you really won’t like what happens.”
“Maybe I would,” Jaskier replied with a smirk. Geralt angled his thrust a little more so that his dick was pounding right against Jaskier’s prostate. There was no more talking after that, just Geralt’s breath and grunts, Jaskier’s cries.
Geralt pushed hard, but even in the head space he was in post hunt, he never went too far, and when Jaskier wrapped his legs around him, Geralt didn’t punish or yell.
Because he needed to feel. The feel of Jaskier’s skin, his words, his scent. And just how good it felt to fuck him. Better than any whore. Jaskier said it was because they loved each other and maybe it was true.
Jaskier was also just the best fuck Geralt had ever had. He pressed in hard and cursed as the orgasm rolled over him. He didn’t collapse against Jaskier, though his arms were shaking a bit. But he wanted to watch. “Touch yourself while I’m still in you,” he rasped. He watched, from above Jaskier as Jaskier wrapped those perfect fingers around his own cock. Often when he told Jaskier to touch himself, Jaskier put on a show, teased until Geralt snapped. But he was too far gone for that. He was almost hurting himself as he chased the orgasm that was so very close.
Geralt watched that hand over cock, until he knew Jaskier was close. “Don’t move,” he ordered and slowly slid out of Jaskier.
“You son of a bitch,” Jaskier cried.
Geralt grinned. “Don’t move a muscle,” he ordered and pressed his fingers into Jaskier, feeling the come and oil in him, and began to stroke. He stretched Jaskier, pressed his fingers hard up again the bard’s prostate. “Stay very still for me.” The only thing moving was Jaskier’s chest with each shaky breath that he pulled in. Sex was the only time that Jaskier actually listened to him, and he relished it. Geralt fingered Jaskier, and Jaskier was crying from the strain of not moving. He was so close to breaking. On the very brink.
“Move,” Geralt ordered and pressed his fingers up.
Two strokes of his cock, and Jaskier was screaming as he spurted all over himself. He looked utterly ruined.
Geralt wanted him a bit more ruined.
He was hard again, because the come down from potions always did that and he moved so he was straddling Jaskier’s chest. Jaskier watched him masturbate and his mouth opened wide with a press of Geralt’s thumb. He was coming over Jaskier’s face, and into his mouth not much later. “Did we learn our lesson?” he growled.
Jaksier nodded. “Always follow Geralt into danger.”
Geralt snorted and rolled his eyes. He moved and brought Jaskier in for a cuddle. He shivered as the last of the potion left his system, anchored himself against Jaskier. He could feel Jaskier humming, just as much as he could hear it, his bard soothing him through the last strains of the poison he pumped into himself. Once he was fully himself again, he carefully, oh so gently cleaned off Jaskier. “Fine?” he asked as he pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s jaw. He no longer smelled of need, just blissful contentment.
And Geralt.
Perhaps that was the smell he liked the most.
“Very fine,” Jaskier promised.
“Good,” Geralt said. He stoked the fire a bit. He wouldn’t sleep that night, just meditate but he lay down so that he could hold Jaskier. He kissed Jaskier’s head. “Next time you stay where I put you.”
“Yeah, you keep believing that will happen,” Jaskier snorted.
Geralt swatted his thigh. He kissed Jaskier’s head and prayed maybe one day, Jaskier would actually listen to him outside sex. But he didn’t pray very hard, because he wouldn’t really want to change his foolish bard.
*
“Now then, tomorrow is a very important day and you are not taking a hunt. We will spend our coin on a luxurious room, and have a nice dinner at a real restaurant. When we return to our room, you will present me with this gift, and I will cry in surprise that you remembered, and cry again because of how it is absolutely perfect. Then I will bathe you, because I love doing that, and then you will tie me up to the bed and choke me as you fuck me, because you like that. Any questions?”
Geralt the box that Jaskier thrust into his hand. It was wrapped in beautiful linen. “Why is tomorrow important?”
“Because it is my birthday Geralt,” Jaskier said.
“No it isn’t, your birthday is in 7 weeks.” Geralt frowned at him. “I had plans, why we’ve been heading south to the coast.” Jaskier’s eyes shimmered. “We can go somewhere else?”
“You had plans for my birthday?”
“Of course I did,” Geralt tried to push the gift back to him. “Though I didn’t have a gift yet. We are almost broke again. So hold onto that until then. It is better than anything I would have picked.” He did like the rest of the plans though. “We can still tie you up tomorrow night.”
“A given, because as I said it is my birthday.”
“We just established it is in seven weeks.”
“Yes fine, the day of my birth is in seven weeks, but tomorrow is the day of my birth into manhood!” Jaskier waved his arms dramatically.
“You celebrate the first time you fucked?” Geralt shrugged. He supposed there were worse things to celebrate.
“No, you oaf,” Jaskier huffed. “Tomorrow is the anniversary of when we first met and I changed my destiny, birthed Jaskier the renowned bard.”
“Wouldn’t that be an anniversary more than a birthday then?” Geralt asked. He pondered it a bit. “How long ago was that anyways?” Time got a bit funny when it was meaningless to you. “Eight years, a dozen?” Those didn’t feel quite right.
“See, this is why it is important. Twenty years, Geralt. I have spent more of my life knowing you than not.”
“What do you mean?” Geralt frowned and looked at Jaskier carefully. “We’ve known each other for twenty years?”
“We have,” Jaskier beamed at him. “We met when I was eighteen and - and why are you looking at me like that, Geralt?”
Geralt turned Roach around and began to travel back the way they had come. He ignored the cries of “Geralt, where you going? Geralt?” He had spent apparently twenty years listening and tuned it out. Wasn’t like Jaskier wasn’t going to follow. He eventually set up camp for the night and ignored Jaskier’s muttering about his plans. When the fire was high and the stars were higher, Geralt took off Jaskier’s shirt. Geralt nudged and Jaskier lay down with a smile.
His smile lessened though, because he clearly knew something was different. “Geralt?”
“We met when you were eighteen, and in seven weeks you will be thirty eight.”
“Yes?” Jaskier’s smile was gone and he was frowning.
“Jaskier, why have you barely aged?” Geralt looked at his chest which was more defined than it used to be, their lives making him strong. His face didn’t quite have the same youthful look it had at the start, but it certainly didn’t carry twenty years of hard road on it either. “You say you are going to be thirty eight, but you look twenty eight. No grey in your hair, no lines around your eyes or more so your mouth.” He leaned down and pressed his nose into Jaskier’s next. “Your scent has barely aged.”
“I didn’t…I take care of my skin? My mother looks young for her age.” Jaskier bit his lip. “I’m not a monster,” he swore.
“I know that, but we need to know why,” Geralt said.
“Do we?” Jaskier asked. “Can’t we just stick with I have good genes.”
“It can’t be a curse because the medallion would let me know of magic,” Geralt said more to himself. He kept sniffing at Jaskier. “Can I have some of your blood?”
“Only if it is because your nails dug hard enough in during sex to draw some,” Jaskier snapped.
Geralt smiled at him. “Would you like that, little bard?” He enjoyed the way Jaskier shivered. He pressed himself down on Jaskier. “Let’s see how much.”
*
“It isn’t in his blood. There is no secret fae or elven blood in there,” Triss said as she performed her experiments. They had arrived to consult with her several days ago and they were not finding any answers. “And you never drink anything mysterious?”
Jaskier was clearly growing weary of the questions. “Does Geralt’s come count as mysterious?” he snapped. “Because otherwise it is water, wine, ale, apple juice, and sometimes tea.”
Geralt wondered why Triss sat up, more interested than she had been all morning. “How long?”
“How long what?”
“Have you and Geralt been having sex?”
“Consistently about 10 years. A handful of times in the five years before that.” Jaskier looked at Geralt, who nodded in agreement. He couldn’t say for sure. It became consistent after he had done that bullshit with the Law of Surprise. They had both continued to fuck other people after that. Until the djinn and Yennefer. That had left a sour taste in both their mouths and after that, unless it was a whore they shared, they had become exclusive.
Triss was moving stuff around her work table. “Here,” she said. Geralt looked at the small saucer in her hand.
“There,” he nodded.
“No, I need you to come in this. I’ll ready a few other things.” She was cutting plants and mixing things. “I don’t hear a hand on cock!” she trilled.
“You want me to jack off, right now, right here, in a soup bowl?” Geralt knew sorceresses were mad, but this was a little much.
“No of course not. I need to work, scootch a few feet that way,” she gestured.
“What the fuck Triss?” Geralt tried to hand her the dish back.
“No, you wanted answers and were fine when it was all about testing me,” Jaskier snapped. “She has studied my blood, piss, spit, palm and burrowed into my brain. You can wank into a soup bowl.”
Geralt huffed but went and leaned against a pillar. He looked over at Triss who winked at him in the mirror by where she was working. “You want a show?”
“Well, I’ve heard it is a good one.”
“Oh joy.” Geralt supposed sorceresses got together and gossiped just like everyone else.
“Geralt, a third of my songs are about how great a fuck you are,” Jaskier said.
“No they aren’t,” Geralt frowned at him. “They are about -” he paused and properly thought about the lyrics. He seldom did, he didn’t care about the words, just how they made him feel. How it felt to watch Jaskier in his element. He loved watching Jaskier perform, and know that he’d get to take all that happiness up to a room, and make it even happier. “Well, now I believe you owe me for all the inspiration,” Geralt said in a low voice, the one he only used when they were about to fuck. He raised his brows at Jaskier and waited.
He watched Jaskier turn to Triss who just winked. Jaskier grinned and gave her a small bow. “My lady would like a show?” he asked her and Geralt snorted.
“I need the come, however you get it to me is up to you,” she said. “I’m busy working here.”
“Hmm,” Geralt replied. He stood, leaned against the pillar and smiled at Jaskier. “Come along,” he told him.
Jaskier was on his knees in an instant and pulling Geralt’s cock out of his leather trousers. He started with his hands, and Geralt made a noise low in his throat. Fuck, he loved Jaskier’s hands. Smooth palms, rough finger tips, and a strong grip. He sank a hand in Jaskier’s hair. “No teasing, this is for research purposes.”
Jaskier giggled and Geralt was charmed. He was always charmed by his bard. Then Jaskier began to suck his cock, and Geralt grew fully hard in his mouth, making him choke when he was over eager to take all of Geralt. Geralt guided his head, not quite fucking Jaskier’s face, more making sure he didn’t over do it. And there was no reason to rush, not with the way Triss was watching. She had been working hard for them and deserved a show along with the coins they were paying her.
Geralt watched Jaskier as he bobbed his head. Geralt groaned when Jaskier began to work his tongue along Geralt’s cock. He loved that. Jaskier was an amazing cock sucker. “Fuck you do this even better than you play the lute.” Geralt smiled when Jaskier flushed at the praise. He gave more gentle and kind words. Not things he said all the time, he didn’t want to spoil Jaskier anymore than he did. And some days Jaskier preferred filthy, nasty words. But today he deserved all the praise for putting up with all the testing.
Jaskier began to squeeze Geralt’s balls along with the cock sucking and Geralt cursed as the pleasure coursed through him. “Good,” Geralt told Jaskier. “My very good songbird. My bard.” Jaskier loved when Geralt claimed ownership of him. He was possessive of being possessed by Geralt. Geralt began to thrust more into Jaskier’s mouth and he could feel that pressure building. But he hated to leave that perfect mouth. He held off as long as he could, until the last moment and then pulled out and stroked himself off into the bowl. “Take that to Triss.”
Jaskier hurried the bowl over and Triss took it, added it to whatever she was brewing, but also dipping a finger in and tasting some.
“Hey, mine,” Jaskier whined.
“I’m done, you can lick the bowl clean,” she offered.
“I’m fine,” Jaskier said. But his voice was a bit of a squeak. And his eyes kept straying to the bowl.
“I’ll give you more later,” Geralt promised him. “Let Triss do work.” He held open his arms and Jaskier eagerly snuggled in. “Later, I’ll let you swallow as much as you want.”
They leaned there while Triss worked. Eventually she nodded and turned down the flames on the fire. “We have our answer.” She went to a cupboard and brought down a bottle and three glasses. She poured out and passed them both a glass.
“Is it a potion?” Jaskier asked sniffing it.
“Raspberry wine,” she said and raised her glass. “A toast to your immortality, Jaskier.”
“I am immortal?”
Geralt looked at Jaskier. “No, I would feel that on you.” He said it as gently as he could.
“You are not immortal, but have been made so by external circumstances,” she explained. She drank about half her glass. “What makes life?”
“The gods?” Jaskier asked and she laughed, but not really at him, so Geralt didn’t growl at her. He didn’t take kindly to people making fun of Jaskier.
“We make life,” she said. “A man and a woman. The woman carries life in her and the man fertilizes it. To be blunt, Geralt is fertilizing you in life.”
“I’m sorry?” Geralt said. “I’m not making him pregnant.” He was pretty sure he would have noticed that at some point.
“No, but your come, it is not human. The mutagens didn’t just change your eyes and strength. They changed you at a fundamental level.”
“They made me sterile, so that makes no sense.”
“Life can only be denied so much,” she said. “And it seems your body, wants to create life. Only in this instance, that means that it makes Jaskier ageless. To be clear, I highly doubt you’d ever make anyone pregnant, that is too far, too much. Because that is to happen once, the perfect connection.”
“I…are you saying that Geralt has fucked me to the point of immortality?”
“Yes,” Triss smiled at him. “You won’t age so long as you are fucking him.”
“But we’ve fucked a long time, and I have aged. Not much, but I do. I have,” Jaskier protested and it was a good point.
“You said at the start it wasn’t consistent. And generally I would suspect that if you are apart for a few months, then you would begin to age again.”
“We spend winters apart,” Geralt said in dawning horror.
“That would do it. What about five months apart? So in a year, Jaskier probably ages two or three months. For most humans that is a hell of a deal. He’ll live a long time so long as you keep fucking him. And it isn’t just fucking, or rubbing it into his skin. My guess, he needs to swallow a couple times a week for peak results. Based on what I tasted. Also, eat a little more fruit, Geralt to make it taste sweeter in general if he is going to be swallowing that much. Just a suggestion.” Triss finished her wine and blew them a kiss before disappearing from her work room. “Don’t fuck in here, when I gave you a perfectly reasonable bed,” she added.
Geralt stared at Jaskier. He waited.
“You are aware that I am never, ever shutting up about you having not just a metaphorically magic dick, but an actual practical for real magic dick right?”
“I am sure I can make you shut up,” Geralt growled. He was mad. Furious at himself. Them separating for winter had been aging Jaskier. He could keep his bard forever, and he had been the one who insisted Jaskier return to Oxenfurt for winter. Doing so had been killing him. Very very slowly, but technically it had been. He could have been keeping Jaskier completely ageless all this time and hadn’t. He had to make up for that.
Geralt pulled Jaskier in for a hard kiss. He would change that, he would make it up to Jaskier. He would do whatever, now that he knew that is was possible, to keep his bard. An idea was starting to form in his mind, but it flew away, when Jaskier’s hands were once more on his cock. He’d hopefully remember in the morning.