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Winter is a time for rest for the Witchers of Kaer Morhen, a time for them to renew their bonds to each other, a time for them to devote to pleasure as the Path is so full of pain.
These are the only thoughts in Eskel’s mind as he lays there panting and coming down from the peak of orgasm, clenching around the cocks still inside him pulsing from their own orgasms. They are allowed to lay there and catch their breath for a few moments, before the beautiful voice of this evening’s director bids them move. Eskel kisses Lambert’s neck where he’s been breathing against it, and begins to get his knees under him as he feels Jaskier pull away behind him with a soft caress to his sides.
He allows himself to be directed and moved, steady on his feet thanks to mutations and long years of endurance training, but head blissfully empty of worries or cares. He feels the gentle bush of air over his skin, the softness of the furs under his feet, the warmth of the fire and his three beloveds. He feels the warmth of the fire intensify as he is bid to stand facing it, the cool softness of the leather-lined steel cuffs closed around his wrists holding his hands aloft, the strength in the hands that have him place his own on the high mantelpiece and hold on.
He hears the commands of his dearest love, the agreements in return, the rustle of cloth and other movements, the crackling of the wood in the fire, four hearts beating a melody he wishes he could describe to their Bard. He hears the creak of a chair as their fourth rises from his place in the corner, and hopes that means he will feel a particular set of sword calloused hands upon his skin soon.
His wishes are soon granted, as he feels those hands as familiar as his own trail up his body. They pause at bites and bruises, at swiftly fading marks of passion, at the signs of the now and ignoring the scars of times past. The scars have their time and place in winter, time to be cared for and addressed, but not this night. This night is for the four of them. For acting out the whims and desires of tonight’s director.
Those hands slide around to his front, over his belly that is beginning to show the thick padding of winter, up to his tits sitting soft and plush on his chest, only the barest of tension present from where his hands are held above his head. He feels the brush of soft linen against his back as Geralt steps forwards to press a kiss between his shoulder blades then hook his chin over Eskel’s shoulder.
He tilts his head into Geralt's, rubs their cheeks together as they both rumble in wordless happiness. Geralt begins to speak, telling Eskel how good he's been and how pleased he is, and that just a little bit longer and Geralt will take him. Eskel moans softly and presses more firmly into Geralt wherever he can.
He feels one of Geralt’s hands sliding back down his body and away, and can’t hold in the little whine of loss. The remaining hand squeezes at his chest and Geralt rumbles again comfortingly. Eskel’s focus is now purely on Geralt, only the barest sliver of awareness for the rest of the room, so he doesn’t immediately register the patch of coldness coming towards his back.
Before he can parse what’s happening, Geralt has slipped two ice cold fingers into Eskel's loose wet hole. Eskel gasps as he clenches down involuntarily and rocks his hips forwards, only to be driven back just as fast by the heat of the fire. His hole loosens its vice grip on Geralt’s icy fingers and he rocks forwards again to slip off them, but before he can rock far enough forwards the heat of the fire against his sensitive cock is again driving him back and on to Geralt’s fingers. Geralt gently pushes his hips forwards again with the hand in his arse, setting Eskel into a smooth rocking motion before his logic can remind him if he stands still the fingers will warm soon enough. Every so often Geralt will crook his fingers in just the right spot and Eskel cannot help but moan and whine and pant as he is driven further and further into oversensitivity.
Finally it becomes too much, he whimpers and knocks his head into Geralt's once more, and Geralt has mercy on him and pulls his hand away. Eskel slumps into him slightly and whines his gratefulness. Geralt chuckles at him and brings his hand back, once again ice cold. Eskel cries out and begins rocking again. Geralt bids him open his eyes, and to the side he can see Lambert holding a bucket full of snow, a vial of oil on one side and the clear imprint of Geralt’s hand in the other.
Geralt growls into his ear that he must come only on his icy fingers before he gets Geralt’s cock, or tell them that he wants to end play for the evening and they shall go and join Jaskier and Lambert on the bed and settle into comfort and sleep. Eskel moans even louder than before and sets to rocking faster, asking for another finger. After all the orgasms wrung from him earlier at Geralt’s direction he’s feeling extremely sensitive, but he’s desperate to feel Geralt slide into him, to feel all that power and skill find bliss in his body. He knows the three of them will be keeping a close eye on him and may call an end to things if they feel he’s pushing himself too far, the same as he does for them when roles are changed. He can do this.
Again and again Geralt chills his fingers and sets Eskel to rocking between the fire and the chill, sometimes squeezing at his tits, sometimes giving little bites, sometimes whispering words of filth or praise or both in his ear. He hears the slick sounds of Jaskier and Lambert enjoying themselves to the sight of his torturous pleasure, hears their moans and sighs and quiet sounds of praise of him.
His cock that had been soft at the beginning of this is once again rock hard, the weight of it pulling it down and the head closer to the flames, intensifying the heat at his front as Geralt keeps ice at his back. He feels the tingles begin signifying his imminent orgasm and Geralt must recognise signs too because he crooks his fingers on almost every pass. Eskel hits his peak and freezes in place, shaking with the intensity, and just as he’s coming down he feels a bloom of heat inside knocking him over into a second, stronger orgasm. His knees buckle under him, the only things holding him up the chains on his wrists and Geralt at his back.
The heat of Geralt’s fingers settles into a gentle warmth as he slowly rocks Eskel down from his peaks, and Eskel distantly realises that it must have been an extremely controlled igni to cause such sudden intense heat. Jaskier and Lambert come and unlock his wrists, and the three of them help Eskel over to the bed. Eskel whines again when he feels Geralt pulling away, and the three of them hush and reassure him that Geralt is only getting undressed, that he’s been so good and will be getting his reward.
Jaskier and Lambert spoon up either side of him and lavish soft kisses and caresses on him, but his eyes are only for Geralt undressing at the end of the bed. One of the others must have undone his boots while he was playing with Eskel, they lie to the side with Geralt’s socks stuffed in the top. Despite the heat of the room Geralt had been sitting in several layers and Eskel can only be glad of that now, watching this gorgeous man unwrapping himself while watching him with eyes full of love and lust and pride.
Finally naked, Geralt crawls up the bed and holds himself above Eskel for a long moment, looking deep into his eyes before dipping his head to give their first kiss in hours. Without breaking the kiss they move so that Geralt can slide into Eskel, both of them groaning at the feel of the other. Geralt begins the gentlest of rocking motions, conscious of the fact he had just driven Eskel into two overstimulated peaks on top of the ones already given by their loves at his direction before that. He waits until Eskel wraps a leg over his hip before beginning to truly thrust in long, slow, hard movements. Eskel breaks the kiss after a while to reassure him that he won’t break him, he can take his pleasure as he likes, no need to hold back.
Geralt growls again and captures Eskel’s lips in another kiss as he begins to pump his hips in earnest. He has astonishing control over his body and self, but he’s been directing the other three in their pleasure for hours and must be burning with the need to find his own release. Sure enough it’s not long before Geralt’s smooth, powerful thrusts become erratic and Eskel feels his cock pulsing deep inside.
He feels the bed shift as Lambert moves from their side to spoon up behind Jaskier, allowing Geralt to tip them both over onto their sides. Eskel is unspeakably grateful for Geralt’s second mutations that allow his cock to stay hard as long as he wishes when he feels Geralt begin gently rocking again. Jaskier plasters himself across Eskel’s back, and Lambert must be just as tightly pressed against Jaskier’s own back, as their hands begin to roam over Eskel’s body while Geralt continues to seek his pleasure.
Knowing the three of them will take care of him, Eskel allows himself to drift in the pleasure humming around his body, the love he feels for these three men, the happiness soaked in these walls that for so long knew only sadness and pain. He feels sleep beginning to pull at him, and mumbles reassurance that they may continue to find pleasure in his body as he rests, that he loves them, that he is so happy. As sleep finally pulls him under, he feels Geralt shudder another release and hears three voices chorus that they love him too.