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Jaskier never listens.
Not to “Stay away from the Kikimore , Jaskier.” Or to “Put the cursed object down, Jaskier.” Or even to “Take the lethal poison out of your mouth, Jaskier!” Which is why Geralt has concocted an elaborate plan to make him listen. Some hunts are just too dangerous for humans.
“But the details!” Jaskier will bemoan. “You’re always so stingy!” He will cry. “How am I supposed to craft an epic ballad of the white wolf slaying the griffin if I don’t even know how you fucking did it!” He will exclaim.
“I don’t care,” Geralt will reply. And still, after having slayed the beast and nearly losing his life in the process, Geralt will spy a shock of silky blue in the dark green foliage and curse. Of course. Of fucking course Jaskier followed him. When Geralt returns to the inn, Jaskier will be dirty and sweaty having run all the way from the forest. Because he’s a fucking brat.
It had taken a few days, but Geralt finally comes up with a surefire plan to get Jaskier to stay in the inn. Geralt’s silver sword needs a new coat after a particularly hard battle with a bruxa . On his way out to the blacksmith, Geralt looks Jaskier right in the eyes and says with all the authority in his voice, “Stay.” Jaskier, mostly still furiously scribbling in his notebook, scoffs and replies, “Okay, sure,” and returns to his chicken-scratch.
It didn’t take long. The blacksmith was just a few stalls over and wasn’t working on anything time sensitive. To be honest, Jaskier probably didn’t even have time to leave, but when Geralt returns and Jaskier is still sitting in the same spot he was before, Geralt knows it’s time. He closes the door noisily, causing Jaskier’s head to pop up and look his way.
“You’re still here,” Geralt says, removing his sword belt and depositing it on the bed. “Good boy.” That gets Jaskier’s attention, judging by the intake of breath and the stilling of his hand. Geralt moves closer to Jaskier, hands working the clasp of his armor. By the time he reaches Jaskier, Geralt can smell the arousal in the air. See the dilation of his pupils. Hear the quickness of his breath. Falling to his knees, Geralt carefully moves the notebook out of Jaskier’s lap and runs his hand up the outside of his thighs, thumbs rubbing at the crease before retreating to make another pass up the inside.
“Geralt?” Jaskier breathes. His hands move to Geralt’s hair and his legs open wide, feet hooking behind Geralt to pull him in closer. Geralt allows himself to be pulled and moves his hands up to Jaskier’s trouser ties. Mouthing at the bulge under the silken trousers, Geralt angles his head up to look Jaskier in the eyes. His tongue rubs lazily against Jaskier’s cock, the fabric in between soaked with spit and precum.
“You stayed,” Geralt growls. “Good boys who listen get rewarded.” The trickle of precum that soaks immediately into the silk is enough indication to Geralt that his plan is working. Jaskier’s hands scramble to pull his trousers all the way down and Geralt helps him by pulling his boots off and tossing them behind him. The trousers slipping off sound deafening in the quiet of the room, Jaskier’s heartbeat and quick breaths a chorus of drums, his whines high pitched and needy and Geralt can’t help but think this is the best plan he’s ever thought of before.
Jaskier’s hands are back in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp and pulling. Taking the hint, Geralt gives Jaskier’s cock two pumps before taking the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head and over the glans. Jaskier moans and the sound his head makes as it hits the wall behind him spurs Geralt on. Slowly, Geralt licks up and down the shaft, slicking the way for his throat. He stills halfway down Jaskier’s cock, his eyes angled up to look into the blue of Jaskier’s. The bard whines, hips shifting and fingers clenching in Geralt’s hair. But Geralt stays still, eyes locked on Jaskier’s and mouth open and slack.
Panting, Jaskier thrusts a bit more into Geralt’s mouth and when all Geralt does is close his eyes and moan, Jaskier thrusts harder. Geralt carefully relaxes his throat as Jaskier finally picks up the pace and thrusts repeatedly into Geralt’s mouth, moaning and arching his back off the chair. Geralt hums at Jaskier’s fists in his hair, his thighs pressed onto his shoulders, hi s cock abusing his throat. And when Jaskier finally stills, cock buried deep in Geralt’s throat and come pulsing warm on the back of his tongue, Geralt swallows as much as he can, licking up the rest that spilled on Jaskier’s balls.
“And what,” Geralt rasps, “did we learn from this lesson?”
Still dazed and just a little short of breath, Jaskier replies, “Be…be a good boy and listen.” Smirking, Geralt stands and adjusts his erection through his trousers. He leans down and kisses Jaskier, licking into his mouth, making sure Jaskier tastes his own cum on his tongue. Geralt pulls back and turns, picking his armor back up and fastening it around him.
“I’m off to scout out the area the drowners were last seen. I’ll be back before nightfall.” He pauses at the door, one hand on the handle and says, “Be a good boy and stay put,” before opening the door and walking down the hall, letting the door shut behind him.
When Geralt returned a few hours later, it was to an eager and amorous Jaskier. As a reward, Geralt took his time with a very cooperative Jaskier.
After a few weeks, Geralt moves on from quick errands runs to lesser hunts. Jaskier has been compliant, but fidgety, becoming impatient with the increasing time it takes Geralt to return. He still obeys, but Geralt can tell he’s going to have to up the ante. It almost goes to shit during the manticore incident.
“Oh, come on, Geralt! How am I supposed to sing your praises on the battlefield if I never see you on the battlefield? Let me just tag along for a little bit. I promise I’ll stay out of sight.” Well, that’s a lie if Geralt’s ever heard one. “I need details, Geralt. I crave them! My last epic turned into a fucking haiku. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is, Geralt? Do you?”
It was something about the petulant whine in Jaskier’s voice that caused Geralt to snap. At least, that’s what he’ll tell himself later. Taking the two steps over to Jaskier’s form blocking the door, Geralt squeezes Jaskier’s ass in a bruising grip and growls dangerously, “Only good boys get rewarded.” Sharp teeth nip viciously just below Jaskier’s ear and Geralt feels the full body shudder that evokes. Geralt slips his gloved hand down the back of Jaskier’s trousers and rubs ruthlessly against Jaskier’s hole. He mouths along Jaskier’s neck, reaching up to bite at Jaskier’s ear. “Now,” he snarls, “are you going to be a good boy, Jask?” He can feel the leather of his gloves catch on the rim of Jaskier’s hole. “Or are you going to be naughty and forfeit your reward?” Geralt licks a stripe behind Jaskier’s ear.
“Good…good boy. I’m gonna be a good boy. Please, Geralt,” Jaskier pants. His legs are shaking, and his cock is making an impressive tent in his silken trousers. His hands are scrabbling against the leather of Geralt’s armor, unsure in their movements. His hips buck and grind between Geralt’s thick leather clad finger and the rough cotton of his small clothes. It must be torture. Good.
“Then stay,” Geralt growls. In less than a breath, Geralt’s hand pulls out of Jaskier’s trousers and he takes the half step to the left to open the door. He spares Jaskier a final glance, the other man leaning heavily against the wall, legs still shaking and chest heaving. “Be good.” And he leaves, his own cock heavy in his small clothes, but Geralt refuses to acknowledge it.
It’s a grueling hunt, lasting far longer than he would have liked. Not to mention the tightwad alderman who tried to cheat him out of his hard-won earnings. By the time he gets back to the inn, Geralt is exhausted and covered in dirt , sweat, blood, and what he thinks are entrails.
It’s a surprise to him when he walks into their room and he sees a tub filled with water and a plate piled high with meat and cheese. There’s even some fruit and nuts, an extra expense Geralt knows Jaskier rarely indulges in. A carafe of wine sits on the table next to the overflowing plate. And there Jaskier is, sitting stiffly on the bed with a look of practiced indifference that hides absolutely nothing. He must have seen Geralt coming from the window.
“I thought,” Jaskier starts primly. “That you might like a hot bath and some food after your hunt.” Jaskier’s eyes flick over to the tub quickly. “ Well, it was hot. I’m sure your little witcher magic can take care of that, however. ” Geralt acknowledges the bath, food and half-snide comment with a grunt and casts an igni at the water. Geralt strips out of his armor as the water steams, Jaskier’s eyes on him the entire time.
Fully stripped, Geralt grabs a basin and a fresh washcloth and cleans off the worst of the viscera before settling into the tub, scalding hot water washing away the aches and pains that come with a difficult hunt. Jaskier settles in behind him, running the cloth over every inch of Geralt he can reach. Finished with his body, Jaskier moves to run fingers through Geralt’s hair, nails scratching at the scalp and washing it clean with the soaps and oils he carries for just these moments. He rubs the pads of his fingers along Geralt’s scalp and neck, shoulders and jaw long after he’s clean. The soak feels good, the massage even more so.
But Geralt knows he must get out soon. He needs to eat and clean his armor and swords before the viscera congeals and hardens even more on his gear. To his surprise, but immense pleasure, Jaskier hand feeds him bits of food as he scrubs the entrails from his armor. He’s taking a bite out of a slice of bread smeared with apple butter and piled high with duck meat and soft cheese when he wipes the last of the manticore from his equipment. Geralt swallows and painstakingly checks through his gear, counting his potions and inspecting nicks in his swords. He’s checking the strength of a grommet on his pauldrons when he finally speaks .
“You were a very good boy.” Jaskier’s hands still from where he was constructing another bite for Geralt. “And you know what good boys get?” Placing the bread down, Jaskier turns towards Geralt, eyes wide.
“Rewarded,” Jaskier breathes , his heartbeat already picking up and the scent of sharp arousal permeating the room.
“That’s right,” Geralt purrs. He places the pauldron down with the rest of his armor and lays back on the bed, his head resting just below the pillow. “And I think you deserve something special.” He places his arms behind his head and nods to Jaskier. “Strip.”
Jumping up, Jaskier’s fingers fumble over his doublet’s buttons, practically ripping them off in his haste.
“No,” Geralt barks. Jaskier stills. “Slower,” he purrs. Swallowing, Jaskier does as commanded and slowly strips his doublet and undershirt off, muscles shifting under the smooth expanse of skin. When Jaskier strips his trousers, he puts on a little show for Geralt, bending over and swaying his hips. By the time he’s naked Geralt is hard and stroking his cock, eyes glued to Jaskier.
Biting his lip, Jaskier crawls his way up Geralt’s body, knees on either side of Geralt’s waist, hips hovering provocatively over Geralt’s cock. But Geralt has other plans. He reaches out and pulls Jaskier higher, up over his chest until those hips that had been poised over Geralt’s cock were now settled over his mouth instead.
“Time for your reward, baby .” Locking his arms around Jaskier’s hips, Geralt licks up the side of Jaskier’s balls and over his perineum, back and up into his crack. Jaskier moans loudly, hands griping tightly onto the bed frame and hips bucking wildly as Geralt’s stubble scratches against his sensitive ass and the flat of his tongue passes almost lazily over Jaskier’s hole. Geralt’s arms hold tighter, pressing Jaskier’s ass further into his face, tongue now firm and relentless against his hole. Geralt purses his lips and sucks at the sensitive rim and revels at the way Jaskier’s legs shake.
Geralt points his tongue and wriggles it inside Jaskier. He moans when Jaskier does, loving the feeling of Jaskier making these little aborted thrusts above him. Just like the first time Geralt enacted his plan, he stills, tongue resting on Jaskier’s hole but not moving. And gods, the whine Jaskier let out when the licking stopped. He shifts slightly, gasping quietly at the feel of Geralt’s tongue on his rim again. But when Geralt still doesn’t move, Jaskier whines again, thrusting impatiently against Geralt’s mouth, the witcher’s nose brushing deliciously against his perineum and balls. Geralt moans and uses his grip on Jaskier’s hips to pull him closer, sitting him firmly on Geralt’s face.
“Oh fuck!” Jaskier pants, hips thrusting wildly above Geralt. When all the witcher does is hold tighter and moan, Jaskier grinds his ass down on Geralt’s face, Geralt licking and laving at every inch of skin his tongue can reach. He flexes his tongue and spears it as far as he can inside Jaskier as the bard grinds and moans above him. His hips move in a circular pattern, balls resting on Geralt’s face, his stubble scratching and tickling them. “Fuck, Geralt! Please!”
He isn’t sure if Jaskier is begging for Geralt to stop or keep going, but Geralt just h olds Jaskier’s hips still, licking and sucking relentlessly at Jaskier’s rim, pushing his tongue inside him and fucking it in and out of his hole. Jaskier can do nothing but hold on to the bedframe and moan as Geralt continues his assault on Jaskier’s hole. He reaches for his cock but Geralt lets go long enough to slap his hand away, growling wetly from beneath him.
“You come on my tongue or not at all.” Jaskier moans, hips grinding down more, Geralt’s nose pressed so hard on his perineum he’s sure Jaskier can feel the pressure on his prostate. Sure enough, it’s only a minute or so later before Jaskier’s hips start jerking, whine high in his throat.
“Geralt, Geralt, Geralt! Oh fuck, I’m coming!” Jaskier’s cock pulses next to Geralt’s head and he can feel the come splatter in his hair and over the pillow. Panting, Jaskier shifts to stand, but Geralt’s hold on his hips is unyielding.
“Geralt? What are you—" Jaskier cuts off into a moan as Geralt continues to suck and lick at Jaskier’s hole, sloppy with Geralt’s saliva. “Geralt, oh gods! Please no more. I can’t take it—" another moan and Jaskier’s legs start shaking. Geralt can tell his hips moving on their own and the pained cries above him only spur the witcher on, his licking becoming frantic . Jaskier’s whole body shudders, hips jerking and voice breaking on moans as he comes again, cock jerking weakly , this time only a few dribbles of come leaking out .
Finally, Geralt eases up the hold on Jaskier’s hips, but not before he takes a few licks at the come dripping sluggishly down Jaskier’s balls and into his face. Jaskier jerks and shoves Geralt’s face away from his hole and collapses on the bed next to the witcher.
“Well, fuck,” he pants. “That was one hell of a reward.” Jaskier chuckles and lazily turns his head to the side to look at Geralt. His face is flushed, and his lips are red and swollen like he had been biting them to keep quiet. Geralt turns to fully face Jaskier, hands coming up to stroke the bard’s sides. His hand reaches back, fingers dipping into the slick left behind from Geralt’s mouth and presses a fingertip into Jaskier’s hole. Jaskier jerks and tries to push Geralt’s hand away, his body probably still oversensitive. Geralt leans in close, finger rubbing at the rim of Jaskier’s hole, the bard’s whimpers like music to his ears.
“Oh,” he breathes, mouth hovering over Jaskier’s ear. “That wasn’t the reward.” Quick as lightning, Geralt turns Jaskier on his stomach, knees spread and ass presented into the air. Growling , Geralt gives it a sharp slap before leaning over and grabbing the vial of oil he placed to the side when he was organizing his kit.
He’s two fingers deep before Jaskier reacts. He begs Geralt to stop, to keep going, to pull out, to not move, to oh god right there right there! And before Geralt can do more than just find Jaskier’s prostate, Jaskier is shaking again, moans spilling out of his mouth and hole clenching around Geralt’s fingers. His cock gives a valiant twitch , but doesn’t do much more than just dribble against his thigh. After three fingers, Geralt determines Jaskier to be ready and takes himself in hand with a hiss. Pushing inside Jaskier feels like coming home.
After having Jaskier’s perfect ass on his tongue and around his fingers, Geralt doesn’t think he’ll last as long as he was hoping. He can feel Jaskier’s come drying on the bard’s balls, fingers massaging it into the velvety skin. Jaskier lets out pathetic little whimpers, voice catching with each moan punched out of him by the slam of Geralt inside him. On a particularly hard thrust, Jaskier’s arms give out and he splays face first into the mattress, back arched and legs spread. Jaskier starts moaning in earnest, the change in angle causing his legs to shake.
It only takes a few more thrusts for Geralt to spill inside Jaskier. The witcher pulls out and tugs at Jaskier’s cheeks with his thumbs, opening his hole and watching his own come ooze sluggishly out of Jaskier’s hole and down his balls. Leaning in, Geralt laps at his own come and Jaskier’s balls. Jaskier is near silent as Geralt licks his come out of the bard’s hole, too fucked out to have much of a response. Geralt gives Jaskier’s cheeks a gentle squeeze, then releases the bard’s hips and gently lowers him to the bed.
Getting up and quietly padding to the tub, Geralt grabs a clean washcloth and heats some leftover bath water with an igni , then sets to work cleaning up and massaging Jaskier. He wipes down all the sweat and saliva and come, taking great care to be as gentle as possible with Jaskier’s abused hole. When he finishes with Jaskier, Geralt gives himself a quick wipe down before pulling back the sheets and quilt on the bed and climbing into bed with the bard, tucking around him.
“Did you enjoy your reward, baby?” Geralt asks, lips gentle behind Jaskier’s ear. Shifting to look back at the witcher, Jaskier smiles and kisses Geralt sweetly.
“Yeah, Geralt, I did. Thank you.” Geralt captures his lips again in a soft kiss.
“No,” he breathes. “Thank you .” Geralt’s hand kneads softly at Jaskier’s hips, fingertips massaging away the bruises that were sure to form.
“What for?” Jaskier asks, eyes closing. His breath is evening out and Geralt can tell he’s seconds from sleep. Geralt just kisses along Jaskier’s neck until he knows Jaskier has dropped off . He sighs, arms pulling tightly around Jaskier.
Geralt swears he can feel Jaskier hold him tighter. “For sticking around,” He whispers into the quiet room.