Treat You Like A Sweet Thing

by greyduckgreygoose

Summary:

Finally bonded, Geralt and Jaskier are living their happily ever after ... until the impossible happens and Geralt falls into his first Rut.

Notes:

I couldn't help myself from returning to this universe :) Written for day 7 of Kinktober (rimming/breeding) and will be PLENTY kinky ... eventually.

Chapter 1

It felt too good to be true, and Geralt kept waiting to wake up from a dream - alone and cold and still full of painful, unrequited longing.

But it didn’t happen. Instead, he had Jaskier by his side and in his bed, hanging over Geralt cheekily at any excuse, flushing and grinning widely whenever their eyes met. Geralt had seen Jaskier’s charms reduce burly Alphas to putty. He was afraid he was no exception.

“Do you know what I love about you?” Jaskier slurred, pleasantly flushed from drink, his hair golden-brown in the tavern’s firelight. Their knees bumped warmly under the table.

“What?” Geralt asked, hiding his smile with a drink from his tankard.

“You’re not like other Alphas,” Jaskier mumbled, leaning on one elbow and looking in serious danger of toppling over.

“Hm?” Geralt reached over the table and gently righted him.

“You’re really equi … egal…” Jaskier squinted, “egalitarian. Very even-minded,” he reached for his goblet and scowled to find it empty. “Geralt, we must order more wine.”

“Alas, we have drunk the purse,” Geralt said dryly, though that was not strictly true. Though it was just the two of them and a pitiful party indeed, Jaskier had insisted celebrating their bonding by corousing through all the taverns of Daevon. Geralt, already frightingly besotted, had agreed.

Now, he wondered privately if it had been a mistake to allow Jaskier to get so far in his cups. Geralt was hoping to ask Jaskier something important tonight, and now it looked like he would have to repeat it again in the morning.

“Alas!” Jaskier collapsed over the table dramatically, accidentally shoving his empty goblet off the edge of the table, which Geralt caught wordlessly and replaced on a nearby window ledge.

“Jaskier ... ” Geralt started, deciding to just take the plunge.

“Anyway, what was I saying?” Jaskier tapped a forefinger on his bottom lip. “Ah, how egalitarian you are!” He pushed himself away from the table to sit upright. “Some Alphas, you know, are so terrible to Omegas. It’s either this fake-sweet condescending shit, or being pawed over and treated like a piece of property,” Jaskier’s face screwed up in a scowl, “Hate that.”

“Remarkably low standards you hold me to,” Geralt said dryly, feeling a brief protectiveness at the thought of Jaskier being mistreated by other Alphas. “Now listen-”

“You’d be surprised,” Jaskier said, drawing each word out. “There are some stories I could tell, even in Oxenfurt, where you’d think an Alpha that introduced themselves as bohemian-”

Geralt sighed, deciding to release the thread for tonight. He finished his ale as Jaskier continued his rambling, pausing for breath only when Geralt stood and hauled him to his feet.

“Ooooh,” Jaskier said excitedly as Geralt began dragging him in the direction of the rooms upstairs, “shall we commence with the wedding night?”

Geralt laughed softly. Though there were others in the room, it felt as if they moved in a space all their own. The other tavern-goers were eager to skitter from the path of the Witcher and the Bard hanging off of his arm. In another time, Geralt might have minded their distainful looks, but now he had the warm weight of Jaskier at his side and the sound of his bright chatter.

“If this is our wedding night, then what was all last week?” Geralt asked, pushing open the door of their room and depositing Jaskier on the bed. With clinging arms, Jaskier dragged Geralt down after him, making the mattress bounce with their weight.

Geralt pushed himself up onto his forearms, looking down at Jaskier beneath him, flushed and lovely, his dark hair spread upon the pale pillows.

“Practice?” Jaskier offered, his voice low as his long, slim fingers began unlacing the front of Geralt’s shirt.

Geralt lowered his head slowly, watching Jaskier’s eyes flutter shut before pressing him into a slow, hot kiss. Jaskier’s mouth opened under Geralt’s, his tongue slick and eager.

With a loud groan, Geralt rolled his hips against Jaskier’s crotch, thinking that he might never be able to get enough of this, that he might go mad with it.

“Hurry,” Jaskier muttered against Geralt’s lips as he tugged his shirt from his breeches, slipping his hands under to roam along Geralt’s bare back. Geralt hissed when he felt Jaskier’s nails sink into the meat of his shoulders.

Geralt leaned back to strip off his shirt, tossing it to a corner of the room. Under him, Jaskier was strugging with his own clothing. Geralt hooked his fingers under the band of Jaskier’s pants and was about to pull them down when-

A loud rapping sound rang through the room, followed by a muffled voice. “Please sir, is there a Witcher in there?”

Geralt stilled, gritting his teeth. “He’s busy at the moment!” he called. Jaskier caught Geralt’s eye and his expression turned plaintive, reaching out to grope clumsily at Geralt’s trapped cock.

“The alderman says he needs you. There’s a girl that’s been killed!”

That threw a bucked of cold water over the proceedings. Jaskier sighed and collapsed limply in the bed as Geralt climbed off of him, walking stiffly to the door and opening it a crack.

The messenger, a barmaid from the inn, blanched when she saw Geralt’s thunderous expression.

“Tell him I’ll be there, but that it’s going to cost him,” Geralt gritted through his teeth, before closing the door with a slam.

--

When Geralt got back, it was almost morning.

He had tracked the beast that mauled the village girl to its lair, but it was abent. The best he could do was lay a trap, in hopes that it would return after dawn.

Jaskier was asleep, a warm mound of blankets in the middle of the bed that stirred at Geralt’s touch.

“I wanted to wait up for you,” Jaskier yawned, rubbing at his eyes as Geralt stripped off his grimy clothes and crawled into bed, “Gotta get the details while they’re fresh …” he trailed off as Geralt slid under the covers behind him, burying his face in the crook of Jaskier’s shoulder with a tired, hungry sound.

“Nothing to write about yet,” Geralt said, drawing Jaskier’s close and holding him tightly around his waist.

If Jaskier minded Geralt’s filth or his chilled skin he didn’t say, relaxing in Geralt’s hold until he returned once more to sleep, his chest rising and falling softly with his breaths. Geralt felt something indescribable, something fluttering and fragile in his chest. Before he could examine it too deeply, his eyes closed and he fell deeply, instantly asleep.

--

When Geralt next woke, the sun was high in the sky, bleeding a harsh light through the open window. Squinting, he levered himself up on one elbow, looking around the room. The bed was cold and empty, and Jaskier was nowhere to be seen.

That alone was enough to put Geralt in a bad mood, but he also had a pounding headache and his skin felt too hot, though he had not drunk nearly as much as Jaskier last night.

Geralt swung his feet off of the bed, the cold of the floor shocking him awake. It was growing late in the season, when it seemed that the first frost of winter would snap any day. Already, Geralt could see the ghost of his breath hanging in the air, feeling a chill in the room despite the flagging fire.

Last winter, he had not returned to Kaer Morhen. This year …

Remembering that he had not, on multiple levels, been able to achieve his goals last night, Geralt dressed quickly, grabbing his equiptment before he descended the staircase to the tavern below.

In the morning, the barroom was sparsely occupied, just a few drunks in the corner, a handful of laborers taking their breakfasts near the door, and-

“Extraordinary!” Jaskier said loudly. He was sitting at a table in the middle of the room, one leg curled under himself, scribbling excitedly in his notebook with the tip of his tongue peeking from his mouth the way it only did when he had recieved a jolt of pure inspiration. “And then what?”

The man sitting across from Jaskier blinked his yellow eyes and grinned widely.

“Oh, Geralt, you’re finally awake!” Jaskier called as he caught sight of him from across the room. “Were you going to join us or just glower in the corner all day?”

Geralt walked slowly towards the table, his skin pricking and his hackles rising as he met the bemused gaze of the Witcher leaning into his Omega’s space.

“What luck! I’ve never met another Witcher before,” Jaskier said happily, flipping to a new page of his notebook, “Geralt, I can’t believe the potion Aiden gave me. Cures hangovers in a snap! Why don’t you ever make useful potions like that …?”

Chapter 2

Notes:

Apologies in advance if the behaviors of arachasae are very inaccurate in this. I never quite got the hang of the games ...

“The alderman’s eager to get this sorted before the overpass freezes over,” Aiden looked from Geralt to Jaskier lazily as he took a slow bite of the bread in his hand, leaving half-circle teeth marks. He had copper skin and sly, cat-like eyes, was handsome in a self-satisfied manner that Geralt immediately despised. “I didn’t hear that he’d already contracted you. Hope I’m not stepping on any toes.”

Jaskier looked at Geralt expectantly, and when he didn’t say anything, turned back to Aiden. “I imagine this happens quite often. How do Witchers handle double-booking? Is it a every-man-for-himself situation, or is there some professional courtesy-”

“You are,” Geralt bit out, staring at Aiden. He didn’t realize that he’d grabbed Jaskier’s thigh under the table until Jaskier turned and raised his eyebrows at him.

“You’re smelling awfully aggressive today,” Jaskier murmured under his breath. “Are you-” he reached a hand to Geralt’s forehead, which he dodged.

Aiden laughed softly. “A Witcher’s bond-mate,” he said, “there’s hope for us yet.”

Geralt should feel satisfied at having his bond recognized, but he was still on edge, tearing savagely into his breakfast as Jaskier looked on, confused.

“I examined the woods this morning,” Aiden said, “I’m afraid to say the trap you laid has been torn through.”

“Can’t be,” Geralt said, scowling.

“Seems like it snared one endrega, but the drones cut it free,” Aiden took a deep drink of his ale, glancing at Geralt as he dragged his wrist over his mouth.

“It’s an arachas, plain as day,” Geralt snapped defensively, feeling his hackles rise. “Infrequent meals. Nocturnal. The state of the girl’s body.”

Aiden shook his head curtly, “If you go out there expecting a lone hunter, you’ll get yourself killed and your pretty Omega widowed-”

Geralt stood suddenly, shoving the table forward with a jarring sound. He leaned into Aiden’s face, his eyes flashing, a low growl starting at the base of his throat. Aiden’s smirk didn’t falter. The tavern went quiet, all eyes falling on the two Witchers.

"Now, now …" Jaskier cleared his throat nervously, glancing around. "Nothing to see here, folks! Just a small … business dispute." He grabbed Geralt's collar and tried unsuccessfully to wrestle some distance between him and Aiden, "Maybe we can handle this outside?" He hissed quietly.

“Why don't we go to check the trap together?" Aiden drawled, "If you still think it's a lone hunter, you're free to tell me to fuck myself. Otherwise … well, the bounty's large enough for the both of us."

--

Geralt slashed angrily through the underbrush with his short sword, his hackles rising at the sound of Jaskier’s bright, rambling questions alternating with Aiden’s husky answers.

“... you say that, but I think the whole cat aesthetic is thrilling. Do you purr? Geralt sometimes purrs when he’s drunk and I scratch him behind his ears-”

“It’s killed again,” Geralt cut in loudly. He stepped forward into the clearing, crouching to examine the cave entrance.

As much as hated to admit it, Aiden might be right. A silver-thread net, coated in incectoid oil, should have held any average arachasae. Several endregas working in tandem, however, would explain the large hole shredded in his trap. The drag marks and blood in the dirt suggested the presence of another kill.

Aiden crouched next to him, turning to Geralt expectantly. The smart thing to do would be to bring him on. Less coin, but certainly safer for having someone to watch his back. If only he could tolerate the man’s smug face, and the too-familiar manner he sniffed after Jaskier ...

“I’m not convinced,” Geralt growled, surprising himself.

Aiden’s eyes flashed, his friendly expression disappearing. “You must be blind, then.”

“Go catch your endregas,” Geralt snapped, “I’ll find my arachas. We’ll see which truly exists.”

Aiden's lips pulled back in a snarl.

“Well,” Jaskier said quietly, “perhaps it’s true what they say of cats and dogs. Are wolves dogs? Close enough, I suppose.”

“Fine,” Aiden snapped, standing and turning sharply on his heel. "Bard," he addressed Jaskier stiffly. “You’d better come with me, or return to the tavern. This bastard is going to get you killed.”

Though Geralt was also about to ask Jaskier to return to the inn, Aiden suggesting it first made him bristle. “He doesn’t need your opinions.”

“You two can keep me out of your knot-measuring competition,” Jaskier said dryly.

Without another word, Aiden stalked away, disappearing into the shadows of the forest.

“I’m staying,” Jaskier said, looking at Geralt knowingly. “But are you sure you’re feeling alright? You look pretty flushed, and if I’m not mistaken …” he leaned closer, sniffing at Geralt’s neck.

Geralt slid away. “Witchers don’t rut,” he grunted, a little desperately. “You should go back to the tavern.” Geralt began walking hurriedly away, following the trail of blood and trampled grass which wound from the destroyed nest.

“Hey!” Jaskier said, trotting behind him. “Didn’t you just tell Aiden that I was a strong, independent Omega who could fare for himself?”

“That's not what I said,” Geralt said gruffly, but he didn't stop Jaskier from continuing to follow him. In truth, it eased his mood somewhat, having Jaskier close, his full attention on Geralt like a warm sunbeam through a window.

Their walk was long. Jaskier alternately complained and chattered through it, and Geralt let him, distracted by the sway of Jaskier's ass in his tight trousers as he walked before Geralt on the path. There was little danger from arachasae during the daytime anyway. Geralt would have plenty of time to track the beast to its new lair, set up a fresh trap, accompany Jaskier back to safety, and maybe even finish up what they’d started last night with a quick, sweet fuck before he had to go back into the cold night.

A sudden, vivid picture came to Geralt of Jaskier spread before him on the inn bed, his tunic opened to his navel, exposing his flushed, panting chest and the love bites on the curve of his neck. His blue eyes, his slick, pink lips, arching and begging for Geralt’s cock-

“... I think you should give him a chance, you know. You two are more alike than you think. Aiden-”

Geralt frowned, his arm snaking quickly around Jaskier’s waist, pulling him back against Geralt’s chest with a low growl.

“Whoa!” Jaskier said, stumbling. “What the- … what is with you today?”

I don’t want his name on your lips, Geralt thought darkly. “There was a leaf in your hair,” he said, plucking at nothing before reluctantly letting Jaskier go.

“Suuuuure,” Jaskier said, but there was a smile playing around his lips. “Maybe do I know what’s going on …” he turned towards Geralt, running a finger coyly down the laces of his tunic. The touch burned, making Geralt swallow. “You’re all pent-up from last night, aren’t you?”

Yes. Yes, that must be it.

Jaskier pressed forward and kissed him, and Geralt responded ravenously, his hands digging into the meat of Jaskier’s ass. He liked Jaskier’s smell even when he wasn’t in heat, but today, Geralt could not get enough, taking in big breaths, seeking that sweet edge, the faint scent of his pheromones that drove Geralt wild.

“Whoa boy,” Jaskier laughed low in his throat, and Geralt sank his teeth into the warm curve of Jaskier’s neck, earning a yelp and a deep shiver. “That’ll -ah- be hard to cover up,” Jaskier panted as Geralt tore at the fastenings of his pants. “But that’s what you want, maybe? Mark me up as yours?”

A sliver of alarm entered Geralt’s consciousness. Where did this possessiveness come from? He’d always been able to control his Alpha instincts … wasn’t that what Jaskier liked about him? Was he acting as badly as those Alphas that had mistreated Jaskier?

Even as Geralt was thinking this, though, he had tumbled Jaskier onto the mossy forest floor, enjoying the sound of his surprised yelps as Geralt pulled the bottom of tunic from his belt and began sucking kisses into the soft of his waist.

“Geralt,” Jaskier gasped, “Geralt!”

Geralt tongued the cut of Jaskier’s hip, rubbing his cheek against the bulge in the front of Jaskier’s trousers. All he wanted was Jaskier’s scent, Jaskier’s moans in his ear, Jaskier’s-

“Geralt!” Jaskier pounded Geralt’s shoulder with his fist. “Behind you!”

Geralt froze, the sound of hissing filling his ears. Jaskier’s eyes were wide, staring beyond Geralt with a petrified expression. Geralt’s sword was just out of reach, torn from his side carelessly just a moment ago.

Leaving them wide open for an attack.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said quietly, “when I move, roll quickly to your left.”

Geralt saw Jaskier swallow, and nod, his gaze intent on something just over Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt watched the shadow of the beast grow larger on the ground, blocking out the sun. Drawing in a quick breath, Geralt threw himself to the right, his shoulder hitting the ground as he grabbed for his sword.

He heard Jaskier yell, and saw him scrambling backwards, a massive arachas stalking after him, scenting the air with its flower-shaped mouth. Jaskier halted when his back hit a tree, his legs pinwheeling in the dirt as the arachas opened its mouth and released a terrifying screech.

With a grunt, Geralt swung up his silver sword and drove it deep into the sliver of space between the beast’s head and thorax, causing it to spasm, spitting venom which landed just short of Jaskier’s feet, sizzling on the dirt.

“Oh shit,” Jaskier said, breathing heavily. “I thought we were monster bait for a second there.”

Geralt twisted his sword harshly as the arachas shuddered, then went limp, its legs sprawling brokenly on the forest floor. Only then did Geralt attempt to pry his sword free, frowning when it hardly budged. One of the grooves was caught on the edge of a shell. He sawed the sword back and forth with small motions, and was preparing to put his weight behind it when he heard a familiar shriek, further in the distance.

“Oh no,” Jaskier said with a small voice. “What now?”

Geralt’s eyes widened as a second arachas emerged from the bushes, even larger than the first. When it saw the dead arachas on the forest floor, it began rushing towards Geralt, swallowing the distance between them.

“Geralt!” Jaskier cried, “There’s another one!”

Of course. Arachasae were usually lone hunters …. unless it was mating season.

How could he have overlooked something so basic.

“Run!” Geralt roared, giving up on his sword. He dived to the side, forming a quick sign of Aard. The blow stunned the arachas far too briefly, making it skid backwards for just a second before it collected itself and began to advance again, continuing its hideous shrieking.

Geralt had barely enough time to draw his steel shortsword before the arachas attacked, swinging out with a pincer. Geralt brought up his sword hurriedly to parry, setting his teeth as the clash reverberated pain down his arm. Without his silver sword coated in insectoid oil, the most he could do was buy time for Jaskier to escape. There was no hope to beat this thing, no hop for his own life.

The arachas opened his mouth to spit, and Geralt wasn’t fast enough to dodge, his breath knocked painfully from his chest as he felt the venom envelop him, sizzling into his skin.

“Geralt!” Jaskier’s voice. Jaskier hadn’t left?

Geralt struggled to stand, his eyes opening in horror as he saw Jaskier holding his silver sword coated in arachas viscera, pulled free of the crumpled body at his feet. His eyes widened with shock as the large arachas turned its attention upon him.

“No!” Geralt barked, his voice strangled as he tried to force himself forward, to put his body between the monster and his Omega, his mate who he’d sworn to protect above all others.

But he was frozen, his muscles seizing painfully as arachas poison rushed through his veins. Without his potions he couldn’t stop himself from crumpling, paralyzed, to the forest floor, unable to do anything but watch helplessly as the arachas descended upon Jaskier.

Please, he pleaded, to Melitele, to Destiny, or whoever was listening. Not Jaskier ... take me instead ...

There was a loud crack. A pained cry. Then the world spun into darkness.

Chapter 3

“... afraid that’s a Cat School secret, sweet thing.”

“Right. Well I’m not about to start a dispensary, you understand. I just need to know if it’s working.”

“We’ll see, I suppose. There’s some differences in physiology that I won’t go into, but it seems that the arachas made a right mess of your man’s bag, so it’s the best that I can do, under the circumstances. In any case, if you do find yourself a widower …”

Geralt groaned, feeling pain shoot through his body as he shifted. He was dead. He was dead and the infernal Cat Witcher was sidling up to his mate before his body was even cold.

“Geralt!”

Geralt’s eyes snapped open to see Jaskier bending over him. Just the sight of his face … Geralt felt a swell of relief in his chest so strong and sudden that it left him shaken. Jaskier was alive - alive. Geralt was gratified enough that he only felt the barest irritation to see that Aiden was also darkening the corner of the room.

“Oh sweet Melitele,” Jaskier said, slumping over to press his forehead against Geralt’s, “I thought … you were …” he pulled back and thumped Geralt lightly on the shoulder as he smiled, his eyes bright. “I should have known better than to worry about you. You're far too stubborn to die, you ass.” Geralt reached for him weakly, but Jaskier flitted away to the other side of the room, muttering about healers under his breath as he grabbed the pitcher to pour Geralt a goblet of water.

“Oh good,” Aiden said unconvincingly. “You made it.” As Geralt levered himself painfully to a seated position, Aiden cocked his head, smirking. “Looks like we were both wrong, eh? Pair-mated arachas hunting together … it’s almost romantic.”

Geralt grunted, feeling the swimming in his head recede. They were in the inn room. There was a pile of his armor, streaked with mud and blood, heaped in a corner. His wounds were cleanly bandaged, rapidly healing as the evidence of venom dissipated from his body. The fire in the hearth was crackling merrily.

Geralt wiped a drop of sweat from his chin, wondering if it was the fire built too high, or the fever from the arachas poison still lingering in his veins that made him feel so fevered.

Or something else altogether.

“You saved us?” Geralt asked Aiden stiffly. He still wanted nothing more than to throw the man out by his lapels, but if he had saved Jaskier then he owed Aiden his undying gratitude. As much as it irritated him on a deeply, unexplainably personal level.

“While it would be amusing to claim you in my debt, I really only provided the mildest of service,” Aiden said with a shrug. “I found you both on the side of the road. Your pretty Omega is stronger than he looks - dragged your sorry ass out of the woods on his own.”

Geralt’s first thought was relief that he still didn’t owe Aiden shit. His second-

“Jaskier?” He asked sharply, and his Omega froze across the room. “What happened to the second arachas?”

Aiden’s smirk faltered, his eyebrows raising in interest. “Oh, you didn’t …?”

“Well,” Jaskier said, spinning on his heel to face the two Witchers. “Funny story about that. Seems the bit of sword training I got in my former life finally came in handy. I got very lucky as well, of course,” he added with false modesty. He paused for dramatic effect, which was hardly needed with the intent gaze of both Witchers on him. “When it was distracted with your shouting it exposed a crack in its … what do you call it? Carapace? See, I do listen when you correct me.” He smiled indulgently, but Geralt could see the small tremble of his fingers on the stem of the water goblet. “Don’t go making me a Witcher, though. I’m afraid I let it smash most of your equipment to pulp in its death throes.”

“You … you killed an arachas?” Aiden blinked, a dangerously besotted expression sliding over his face. “Marry me-”

“Get out,” Geralt growled, snapping his gaze to Aiden. “Now.” The heated anger in his eyes actually made the Cat Witcher stumble back a step.

“What he means is, thank you for the potions and your valuable time. We’ll see about compensating you for both,” Jaskier said dryly, walking over to open the door for Aiden. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid that matrimony is off the table.”

“Alright, alright, I know when I’m not wanted,” Aiden threw up his hands in surrender, throwing Jaskier a last, lascivious, glance that made Geralt’s hackles rise. He was just about to rip off his bedsheets and launch himself at Aiden’s throat - arachas poisoning be damned - when Jaskier closed the door in Aiden’s face.

“Well,” Jaskier sighed, turning back to Geralt. “I suppose I’m partially to blame for this. I egged you two on, after all. Though you have to admit that the prospect of two burly Witchers vying for my attentions was a bit flattering-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said softly. “Come here.”

“Drink first,” Jaskier countered, and Geralt was forced to obey, impatiently chugging the goblet, before Jaskier would step closer. The second that Jaskier was within reach, Geralt pulled his mate on top of him, hearing his surprised yelp.

Geralt buried his face in Jaskier’s neck and inhaled deep, the pain and worry and dreadful yearning escaping his body in violent shudders. He felt Jaskier exhale, his cool fingers digging into Geralt’s shoulders.

“I was afraid,” Jaskier said, his voice husky, “you were so still, I couldn’t ...” he shook his head, swallowing. “Don’t you fucking leave me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, not after what you did to that arachas.” Geralt smiled, his voice breaking just a little at the smell of Jaskier. The sound of his voice. His mate. His precious mate. He pulled Jaskier into a kiss, slick and heated and clumsy in his eagerness, forcing his shaking hands to be gentle as they roamed across Jaskier’s body, cognizant of bruises and injuries. He felt as if he were bursting from his skin, as if his body couldn’t contain the exhilaration he felt.

He didn’t deserve this happiness, not any of it.

That wouldn’t stop him from taking as much as he could get.

“Jaskier?”

“Yes?”

“ …. I think I’m in Rut.”

Jaskier drew in a short, shaky breath. “I know, Geralt.”

Though Jaskier was off his heat cycle, Geralt could smell his mate’s pheromones flicker to life. Like wax melting under the heat of flame, Jaskier was responding to his Alpha’s Rut, shifting on the bed and pressing his thighs together as his cock hardened in his pants.

With a groan, Geralt rolled Jaskier under him and began placing sucking kisses down the line of his neck. He smelled good. So fucking good. Geralt had thought that when they bonded, the distraction would ebb, but if anything it had gotten worse. Every second of every day was a goddamn tease, Jaskier wafting around him smelling of fresh grass and sunshine, lavender oil and his own sweet, deep musk.

If only he knew what Geralt thought about doing to him. Constantly.

Drawing on the last reserves of control, Geralt pushed himself away from Jaskier’s warmth, the warm sprawl of his body on the bed. Leaning over Jaskier, Geralt rubbed the back of his fingers over Jaskier’s cheek, struggling to remain gentle.

“I might be rough,” Geralt gritted his teeth, a curl of shame spreading across his chest. “I … I need-”

Jaskier pressed his cheek into Geralt’s hand, smiling. “I understand, my heart,” he said, “Take what you will, you can have as much of me as you desire.” He turned his face and pressed a tender kiss to Geralt’s palm. “I won’t break, you know. I’m not unfamiliar with Alphas and their Ruts-”

A frightening wave of possessiveness washed over Geralt at the thought of Jaskier spreading his legs for another Alpha. Geralt didn’t realize that he was growling until Jaskier's laughter bubbled up underneath him.

“Oh dear,” Jaskier said, as Geralt began tearing off his clothing, “I’ve started it again, haven’t I?”

Geralt didn't answer, concentrating on stripping Jaskier with fast, hungry movements.

"Watch the ribbons!" Jaskier yelped as Geralt flung his jacket to the floor. Jaskier's maddeningly well-tailored trousers were next, followed by his undershirt. Why he had even bothered to dress again after changing out of his dirt-smeared travelling clothes was beyond Geralt’s understanding. Though if it were up to Geralt, Jaskier would never again wear clothing with fiddly clasps and buttons.

Geralt didn't even bother removing Jaskier's smalls, just shoved them halfway down his legs before palming Jaskier's cock, blush-hot and already weeping at the tip.

Jaskier moaned, the scent of his arousal thick in the air. Geralt's other hand pressed into the crevice between Jaskier's legs, sinking two fingers easily, suddenly, into the clench of his hole. "Oh fuck," Jaskier whimpered, arching, as Geralt began pumping his digits in and out roughly, working him simultaneously from the front as he flicked his tongue over Jaskier's flat nipples. "You don't waste any time, do you?" Jaskier asked shakily, his thighs beginning to twitch in a manner that betrayed his quickly-approaching climax.

Geralt answered with a grunt. All he knew was the frantic, primal urge thrumming in his blood. To mark. To claim. Inside and out, Jaskier was his.

Geralt sucked a chain of bruises down Jaskier's sensitive ribs, taking Jaskier to the edge of pleasure, then withdrawing his fingers as Jaskier writhed.

"You're a bastard," Jaskier wailed, his wrist caught and pinned by Geralt as he tried to replace Geralt's absent fingers with his own.

Jaskier’s stomach was a delectable temptation, a soft layer of fat over his trembling abdomen. He gasped, shuddering as Geralt sank his teeth just above Jaskier’s navel, worrying the skin there into a purpling bruise as he continued tugging on Jaskier’s cock.

“Oh. Fuck. I-” Jaskier’s words melted as Geralt kneeled between Jaskier’s spread legs. Jaskier’s thighs were pale, lightly furred with soft, golden-brown hair, the insides smeared with his juices. Geralt bent Jaskier’s knees towards his chest, and he cooperated with eager noises, his hips fucking shallowly into Geralt’s grip.

Jaskier was so beautiful that it hurt to look at him. Geralt pressed his face into the side of Jaskier’s knee, pressing a shakingly gentle bite there that made Jaskier go wild.

“Fuck me,” Jaskier reached down, fingers scrabbling over Geralt’s trouser buttons.

Instead, Geralt hauled up Jaskier's hips and pressed the flat of his tongue against Jaskier's needy, twitching hole.

“Oh,” Jaskier said, then fell silent, his body arching violently from the bed and trembling, taut as a lute string.

Even in the haze of his throbbing lust, Geralt froze, glancing towards Jaskier's face.

"W-why'd you stop?" Jaskier asked, his face flushed pink, his lips bitten red and swollen, his sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks.

Geralt knew he probably looked the same. Utterly wrecked. There were things he should say. Things a fine-bred Omega like Jaskier deserved, but that Geralt was … incapable of. At that moment, Geralt wished desperately that he could verbalize this desperate, vulnerable feeling in his chest, like his ribs had been cracked open and his heart exposed.

But the words jumbled in his mind, and under Jaskier's confused, aroused gaze, Geralt bent his head and slid his slick, hot mouth over Jaskier's twitching hole.

The smell of Jaskier's slick was overwhelming, the taste of it maddeningly arousing on Geralt's tongue. He twisted his tongue into the Jaskier's tight furl which, despite having been fucked roughly by Geralt's fingers just moments ago, was now as tight as any virgin’s as Jaskier shivered like he was about to fall apart.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said brokenly between gasps, “I- … oh Geralt.”

Despite his best intentions, Geralt couldn’t be gentle. He spread Jaskier’s ass and ate him like ripe fruit, the sweet-smelling slick sluicing down his chin as Jaskier stuffed his knuckles in his mouth and sobbed.

The wet, sloppy sound of Geralt’s ministrations were obscene in the quiet of the room as he alternated between finger-fucking and licking Jaskier open, pointedly ignoring his hard, drooling cock.

After Geralt firmly removed Jaskier’s hands from pleasuring himself twice, Jaskier submitted to twisting his fingers in the sheets, begging for release as he alternated Geralt's name with epithets and endearments, the charming flattery that came so easy to him utterly absent now.

Geralt didn’t stop Jaskier from climaxing, in fact he saw to it, forcing one, two, three dry orgasms from Jaskier’s shaking body before his Omega cock finally spurted, splattering over his trembling chest.

By then, Jaskier’s voice was hoarse from wailing. “You fucking ass,” he sobbed, pulling Geralt’s hair as he played with Jaskier’s soft, over-stimulated cock, rolling it to half-hardness between his fingers as he bit at Jaskier’s nipples.

Geralt was past words at this point, the most primal of instincts dominating his brain. Pleasure. Provide.

Breed.

“Fuck me,” Jaskier begged, “Fuck me, fuck me.”

Oh he would. But first, Geralt sank his teeth into the meat of Jaskier’s ass. His thighs. Grinding possessive little love bites into his pale skin as Jaskier’s entire body vibrated with arousal.

Jaskier made a broken little sound when Geralt finally pulled away, wiping at the mess of his mouth and chin with the back of his wrist. Through the fog of his Rut, Geralt scanned Jaskier’s face for any trace of fear or pain, finding only an answering lust.

When Geralt roughly man-handled Jaskier to his front and hitched his hips into position, Jaskier participated eagerly, spreading his thighs and moaning, “oh dear Meiletele, finally” as he dropped his head between shoulders.

Though Geralt had had plenty of prior practice, the first breach of his cock into Jaskier's ass felt like a revelation. The tight, wet heat sucking him in. The curl of Jaskier’s spine, held taut as he eagerly worked himself backwards with greedy little rolls of his hips. The sound of Jaskier’s gratified gasps, his fingers clawing the bedsheets in front of him. Geralt bent and laved his tongue over the healed bite mark on Jaskier’s nape reverently, using gravity to press his cock slowly into Jaskier’s tightness. Underneath him, Jaskier made muffled moans into the pillows, arching as Geralt sank into his ass, panting breathlessly as he was stretched wide.

Geralt gave a hard, deep thrust and Jaskier’s legs spasmed.

“Deargodsfuck,” Jaskier slurred, his voice muffled.

Geralt dug his fingers into Jasker’s hips and fucked him roughly, greedily, like he couldn’t get enough of him. Like his whole world only existed in this bed. Jaskier’s body. The taste of his sweat, and the sound of his panting. Geralt grunted as he gave Jaskier all he had, working so hard that he shook the bed with it, squeezing out tortured moans and broken epithets.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck oh…" Jaskier slurred into the pillow as Geralt lifted his hips off the bed, forcing Jaskier's lean body to jerk across the coverlet, making him twist his fingers into the sheets in a useless attempt to stabilize himself.

Geralt growled as he felt his climax approaching and pulled from Jaskier's hole, his knot swelling in his cupped hand.

"No!" Jaskier cried, twisting to look at Geralt, his pink hole left gaping and twitching around nothing.

Geralt gritted his teeth at the sight, squeezing his knot roughly to milk his come over the flat of Jaskier's lower back. As Jaskier whimpered, Geralt rubbed it into his skin, obeying the compulsion to mark, to claim, to own his Omega as deeply as he himself was owned.

Jaskier could bathe, but the scent of their pheromones, intermingled, would linger on his skin for some time. And when it faded, Geralt was happy to slather it on again, and again and again.

“What was that for?” Jaskier demanded weakly as Geralt flipped him over, the dampness of the sheets under his body evidence that he’d come at least once again on Geralt’s cock. He grasped at Geralt’s shoulders, whining plaintively for kisses, which Geralt was happy to indulge as he arranged Jaskier’s limp legs around his hips. “Oh Meliete, you’re hard again,” Jaskier whispered as Geralt rutted against the inside of his thigh. “Have I survived the den of arachsae only to die by your cock? If so, I have no regrets. This is exactly what I always fantasized-”

The rest of his rambling was cut off abruptly as Geralt entered him again, an easy slide into Jaskier’s soft, fucked-out hole.

Geralt was gentler this time, the beast in him placated, for the time being, with his scent rubbed into Jaskier’s skin. He was even playful as he kissed Jaskier, biting at his lower lip as he drew in loud, shaking breaths.

When Geralt began fondling Jaskier’s half-hard cock, he stiffened.

“I’ve … I don’t think …” Jaskier shuddered as Geralt palmed his balls, which were less painful to touch than his over-sensitive cock but still made him squirm deliciously.

Geralt focused his attentions on Jaskier's sensitive places - teething his earlobe, the under-side of his jaw, pinching his tender pink nipples as he writhed on the bed.

Jaskier seemed on the verge of tears as Geralt teased another orgasm from him, fucking him through it as he cradled Jaskier's head between his forearms.

“Yes, my love, oh fill me up, put your baby in me …” Jaskier sobbed, hands clamped under his knees, his toes curling in the air.

Sterile as he was, the rambling made something snap in Geralt's brain, made him dig his fingers into the mattress and lean his weight into his thrusts, causing Jaskier’s speech to stutter.

Yes. He wanted to fuck his come deep into his sweet, fertile Omega, wanted to fill him up until he swelled from it, make him fat with Geralt's pups. He'd secret them somewhere warm and safe and private, drag back his bloody kills and feed his Omega by hand.

Show his mate that his Alpha could protect him, could provide for him so well, that he'd never need to seek another.

"Oh Melietele, oh Melietele please-" Jaskier mumbled feverishly, his ass clamping down as Geralt's knot began to swell.

Only to be denied again when Geralt pulled out for the second time, the swell of his knot catching, briefly at Jaskier’s twitching rim and making him sob as he squirmed after it.

“Fuck! Why?” Jaskier demanded as Geralt clamped a tight hand on his own cock, denying himself with a pained grimace. “You stubborn fuck,” Jaskier scrubbed his hands over his face, his body reverberating with over-stimulated pleasure, twitching under Geralt as they both caught their breath. “Dear Melitele, why did I pick such … such an ass to love?”

Geralt didn’t know how to explain it himself, nuzzling apologetic kisses into Jaskier’s shoulders, petting him like a skittish horse. If he tied Jaskier, then this would all end, but his Omega had to be satisfied, and satisfied again. He would provide.

Jaskier’s body was limp, but he allowed Geralt to pull him onto his lap, slinging his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and burying his head in Geralt’s neck as Geralt pressed his cock against Jaskier’s needy, sore, fucked-out hole yet again.

Jaskier's nipples were tender and swollen from abuse - pulling and pinching, sucking and nipping. He sobbed at even the gentle laving Geralt gave to them now, bouncing like a ragdoll as Geralt fucked up into his ass, too tired to do much more than hang on for dear life and mumble needy little complaints into Geralt’s ear.

"Please," Jaskier sobbed as his cock jerked yet again, a dribble of clear liquid spurting as Geralt’s cock ground against his prostate. “I need you to knot-” Jaskier brought his fist down on Geralt’s shoulder, any further words punched out of his mouth as Geralt yanked him down onto his cock.

This time, the roll of Geralt's hips were frantic, his control fraying at last. Jaskier dug his fingers into Geralt’s shoulders with the last of his strength as Geralt fucked his cock up into Jaskier’s limp, sweat-slick body, already exhausted from so many orgasms.

In this position, they were closer than they’d ever been, kissing like they were desperate to crawl into the same skin, their sweat mingling, sharing their breath. When Jaskier felt Geralt begin to shudder from the base of his spine, Jaskier linked his ankles behind Geralt’s back and refused to let go when Geralt made to pull away.

“Jaskier,” Geralt groaned, his hips working like a piston under Jaskier’s thighs.

“Knot this time!” Jaskier shouted, using the last of his strength to clench down on Geralt, hold him so tight that he couldn’t pull away and deny Jaskier his knot-

Geralt made a low, feral sound and ground his cock deep into Jaskier’s ass, his knot inflating, straining the tightness of Jaskier’s walls as his release spilled, hot, inside Jaskier's body.

Scrabbling at Geralt’s shoulders, Jaskier sobbed, “It’s bigger this time, how can it get bigger-” and came for the last time, his spend clear and thin, just dribbling out of the tip of his cock.

Geralt's body shuddered violently, flooded with pleasure as he finally, finally tied with his mate. At last, the fog began to lift from his brain as Geralt felt Jaskier's hot face press into his shoulder and both of their bodies fell, entangled and exhausted, to bed.

--

When Jaskier came to, Geralt was petting his hair, watching over him with a worried expression. Somehow he was bathed and dressed, looking completely innocent of the debauchery that had taken place just a few hours earlier.

Resentful as he felt the soreness in his own body, Jaskier groaned. "Remind me to never take your Witcher knowledge at face value ever again," Jaskier said with a pout, "Witchers don't Rut. Pure bunk." Geralt's expression immediately grew guilty, and Jaskier weakly pawed at his face. "Stop that," he said. "I’m not dealing with this right now. It wasn’t your fault … you couldn’t control it.."

"I got you hurt," Geralt ground out. "I was distracted." He gritted his teeth, shaking his head abruptly, "Melitele, you almost died-"

Jaskier clapped his palms over Geralt's cheeks and squeezed, forcing his lips to pucker "I said stop." He flopped onto his back dramatically, "if you have the energy to spin yourself to circles, maybe you can call for some breakfast, yeah? I really don't plan on moving for a while."

Silently, Geralt left, leaving Jaskier to doze in their sweaty nest of blankets. When Geralt returned, he brought with him Jaskier's favorite wine, hard cheeses and sausages on a plate dripping with late-summer grapes that shone like jewels under the morning sun.

Suddenly ravenous, Jaskier sat up in bed, allowing Geralt to slide in beside him. Geralt propped Jaskier to lean against his chest, and pressed small pieces of food to Jaskier's mouth as he nuzzled over the bite marks on Jaskier's neck and back tenderly.

"Go ahead," Jaskier said with his mouth full, "I know you want to lick them."

"Do they hurt?" Geralt asked, frowning. “Did I … do too much?”

Jaskier shrugged. "Yes, but I liked it." He grinned cheekily as he turned to look at Geralt. "Couldn't you tell?"

Shaking his head, Geralt buried his face in the curve of Jaskier's shoulder. "You don't like possessiveness. You told me."

"Yes, well," Jaskier laughed weakly, reaching for the wine bottle. "As it turns out, a little bit, occasionally … it can be quite arousing." He drank deeply, a drop escaping the corner of his mouth and sluicing down his chin. Jaskier felt Geralt's fingers on his cheek, and lowered the bottle when Geralt's hot tongue captured the errant drop. "Mm." Jaskier said, amused. "The spirit is willing, darling, but the flesh is so very weak."

Embarrassed, Geralt dropped his forehead to press against Jaskier's shoulder again and Jaskier laughed, overwhelmed with his love for this tender, protective, stupid man.

“I have something to ask you,” Geralt said. The hesitancy in his tone made Jaskier pause, turning to look at Geralt with his mouth full of cheese.

“Yesh?” Jaskier asked, pressing the back of his hand against his lips. What, he wondered, could possibly make his gruff Witcher look as earnest as a schoolboy when not two hours past he'd been mercilessly wringing orgasms from Jaskier's shivering body?

A faint thrill went through Jaskier's spine at the memory. He'd have to see about teasing Geralt into such a frenzy again, because that could not be just a one-time thing ...

“Since we … hm, met, I haven’t returned to Kaer Morhen,” Geralt said, absent-mindedly brushing a crumb off of Jaskier’s face. “The other Wolves sent letters. They’ve … heard the stories. They want to meet you, if you would see them.”

Jaskier blinked, a bright smile spreading over his face. He hurried to swallow his mouthful of food in order to provide a proper response, but his expression seemed answer enough for Geralt, who looked charmingly relieved as he pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s forehead.

--

“More Witchers,” Jaskier said gaily. He leaned his head back for Geralt to soap, lounging in the hot bath as the midday sun streamed through the open windows. It was an extravagance that Jaskier had felt no guilt about using his infirmed state to insist. “I hadn’t met a Witcher in the first two decades of my life, and now I’m lousy with them. What are your brothers like? Do you think they’ll take to me?”

“Very quickly,” Geralt said dryly, “especially if you tell them about the arachas you killed.”

“Yes!” Jaskier shot up from the bath, sending a small spray of water across the floor. “Before the most crucial details escape my memory, I must immortalize my heroics - and yours, I suppose - in song!”

“Hm,” Geralt answered, but as he had been unconscious when Jaskier slew the beast, there was nothing he could say to correct Jaskier’s increasingly unbelievable lyrics, a shift in their usual dynamic that Jaskier found intensely amusing.

--

Jaskier insisted on accompanying Geralt to receive the alderman's reward - as he did, he pointed out, earn half of it himself.

When they returned, they found Aiden drinking at the tavern. His eyebrows raised when he saw them, his gaze dancing playfully over the smatter of love bites and bruises Jaskier was flaunting with his unlaced tunic.

“Think we’ve forgotten about your payment?” Jaskier asked dryly, tossing Aiden his share of the bounty.

"You think I’m so mercenary? I just wanted to see you whether you were in one piece. Felt a bit guilty after all went down, but it seems I worried for nothing," Aiden winked at Jaskier as he pocketed his coin. "You look better than ever."

Geralt growled under his breath, and Jaskier turned to shoot him a look. "I thought you said your Rut was over."

"It is," Geralt said darkly, "I just hate him."

Aiden laughed, unoffended. He reached out and chucked Jaskier under the chin affectionately. "If you ever get tired of this one, sweet thing, you know where to find me."

That must be an expression, Jaskier thought, because he really had no idea where to find Aiden, or whether they would ever see him again. Geralt certainly would hope not, but Jaskier thought that he didn’t mind the man.

"Touch him again and I'll remove that hand," Geralt glowered, stepping in between the two of them.

As Jaskier watched the two men begin bickering heatedly, he had a vivid image of a great white wolf snarling at a smug tabby cat, and the thought was so comedic that he laughed aloud.

--

Geralt was still grumbling about it when they hit the road a day later. Thankfully, Aiden was nowhere to be seen, having left just after "checking in".

Jaskier couldn't help smiling as he turned his face to the sky, the first fat flakes of winter beginning to swirl from the clouds.

Wintering in Kaer Morhen. Meeting the men Geralt called family. Geralt had spoken of them fondly over supper, of the antics he'd gotten into with Eskel and Lambert, and the warmth that Vesemir had shown to these stray pups. It piqued Jaskier's curiosity about the Witchers, but it also made him nervous.

"Should I bring a gift, you think?" Jaskier fretted as they left town limits. "Drat! I should have gotten a gift, and now it's too late! Will they think me rude?"

Geralt hummed, bemused. "Gift or no gift, they'll probably soon like you more than they do me.”

"What do they think of you, having a bond-mate?" Jaskier slid a glance to Geralt. "Especially concerning our … circumstances?"

"Haven't told them any details. Not really the kind of thing that can be explained by letter," Geralt said, reaching up to pet Roach behind her ear and missing Jaskier’s nervous pout, "Anyway, you’ll have to share the spotlight. Seems that Lambert's bringing someone as well. A friend from the Trail, he mentioned."

"A larger audience for my new ballad!" Jaskier exclaimed, feeling his good humor return to him at the thought. He'd premiered The Kiss of the Arachas last night at the tavern to energetic approval, though Geralt had made him remove the racier bits (knot, as it turned out, rhymed with a great number of words and Jaskier still mourned the loss of those stanzas).

"Full house this winter," Geralt murmured. "Vesemir will be pleased."

Jaskier felt a brilliant warmth creep through his chest as he glanced at Geralt's soft smile. "A kiss for luck?" He asked huskily, and Geralt complied, pausing in his steps to press a slow, warm kiss to Jaskier's lips as the snow fell softly around them.

It was, Jaskier thought dreamily, the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.

Notes:

And that's all she wrote!! If I do a sequel of this sequel it probably won't be before s.2 drops. Thanks for sticking with me babies!!

Notes:

my tumblr

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Ballad of the Bride Surprise