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Jaskier enters the dim club in a good mood. The club is artfully lit, and just starting to get busy, people flitting around laughing and talking. The light shines across the jewelry laying across his neck and chest. His deep blue shirt is slightly shimmery and unbuttoned an obscene amount. Jaskier smiles, eyes quickly finding Eskel standing against the far wall, the tall security guard he’s chatted to the dozen times he’s been to Kaer Morhen.
“Hi, darling!” Jaskier chirps as he approaches, eyes glancing over to the bar where a glimpse of a broad back and shockingly white hair surprises him. He quickly catches himself and turns back to Eskel.
The pair of them quickly became unlikely friends after Jaskier spent quite a few nights drowning his sorrows after a breakup with his nasty ex, Valdo Marx. That cheating bastard. After avoiding the bars Valdo and he used to frequent, Jaskier stumbled upon the hidden gem that is Kaer Morhen.
“Back again?” Eskel smiles gently at the shorter man, reaching out to clasp Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier startles at the casual touch before quickly relaxing into it. Has it really been that long since he’s felt physical affection, even if platonic? He must be going insane. Before he can think too much about the lack of touch in his life, Eskel releases him.
“Where else am I going to hang out with such handsome men?” Jaskier asks while winking and cocking his hip out with all his usual showman attitude.
The burly security guard chuckles, the deep scar across his face wrinkling. “No need to flatter me, you're sure as hell not getting any free drinks from me.”
Jaskier gasps in mock outrage. “I would never ask such a thing! How dare you accuse me of something so horrid? I’ll go ask Lambert for one instead. Where is he anyway?”
In all honesty, his accusation is entirely accurate. He might even try to charm his way into a free drink from Lambert. He may be a tiny bit of a shit. At least he’s willing to admit it.
“He’s not here, he took the night off from bartending to hang out with his boytoy,” Eskel says.
Jaskier glances back at the bar. Five or so people sit on stools, and behind them, he sees an unfamiliar face. Jasker feels his face heat up slightly as he takes in the man behind the bar. He has to be six feet tall or taller with broad shoulders and a head full of pure white hair tied up into a low bun. A few strands seem to have escaped, framing his masculine face. His expression is downturned and moody but not in a way that takes away from his natural beauty.
Gods, who is this man? As Jaskier observes him with greed, the new bartender looks up. Even in the dim lighting, his gold eyes are striking. Jaskier's wide blue-eyed gaze is stuck for a few more seconds before he gets a grip of himself, turning to respond to Eskel.
“Oh. Um- who's manning the bar then?” Jaskier asks, trying not to look too outwardly horny. Eskel’s light huff and raised eyebrow reveal that Jaskier is not being as subtle as he would like. Jaskier’s eyes dart back to the bar where the mystery bartender has turned to the side to show off his defined jaw and strong nose. Who can look that good from all angles? God does pick favorites.
Eskel follows his gaze and responds, “That’s Geralt. He’s basically my brother. He is also the owner of Kaer Morhen.”
Jaskier rocks back and forth on his toes, rubbing the back of his neck. He focuses his attention back on Eskel with great difficulty.
“I think I’ll try my luck with Geralt then,” Jaskier says as he turns on his heels and strides to the bar after twirling his fingers to Eskel in goodbye. Hopefully, mock confidence can disguise the fact that he trembles slightly with nerves. It probably doesn’t.
As he slides into an open bar stool, Jaskier looks up just as the now-named bartender comes into his direct eyeline. A soft gasped breath leaves his pink lips as he takes in Geralt up close. His hair looks shiny under the soft orange-tinted lights by the bar. Jaskier wonders if it’s as soft as it looks. His lips are full and most certainly moving, although Jaskier can't process a single word he's uttering.
“Sorry darling, I didn’t catch that,” Jaskier says, meeting Geralt's intense gaze. Jaskier wills himself to act like a normal person in despite of being face to face with this perfect specimen of a man.
“I said, what can I get you to drink?” Geralt responds in a gruff tone. His voice is low and gravelly, although lacking much emotion or inflection. How dare he have the audacity to be that attractive while asking for Jaskier’s drink order in a bedroom voice?
Jaskier prides himself on being quick-witted, but at this moment his brain is completely barren of any logical thought or flirtation technique.
Catching himself, Jaskier leans forward and plays with the delicate gold chains around his neck. “What do you think I would like?”
Not his best line, but oh well. Who can blame him for being flustered?
Geralt’s eyes flick down for half a second, catching the twinkle of Jaskier’s jewelry before responding, “I make the drinks, you decide what drink you want.”
“You’re no fun! I’ll get one Sex on the Beach, with a little umbrella please,” Jaskier chirps in response. Jaskier’s typical drink on a night out is actually far less obnoxious than tonight's choice, but he can’t help but to try to get a smile out of Geralt.
Geralt doesn't smile at his order but as he turns around to make his drink, Jaskier gets to see him bending down to grab orange juice, his devilishly tight black jeans emphasizing his bulky physique. A win is a win. As Geralt turns around, Jaskier quickly averts his eyes, pretending to be very interested in the sticky bar top surface. He doesn’t know if he quite succeeds in averting his gaze fast enough. Geralt moves around the bar confidently before finishing off the drink with a tiny pink umbrella.
Jaskier reaches for his fruity drink, his multitude of gold rings clanging against the textured glass. He smiles up at Geralt while plucking the umbrella out of the drink. “Thank you! The umbrella is the most important part.”
Jaskier raises the umbrella to his pouty lips, sucking the liquid off the toothpick before placing it between his teeth.
“If you say so,” Geralt responds, looking both amused and exasperated by Jaskier’s dramatics. Jaskier doesn't miss Geralt’s narrowed golden eyes darting down to where he has bitten down at the toothpick. He knows his best assets, and his lip’s definitely are them.
“I do say so! So tell me, is that your natural hair color?” Jaskier questions, as he places the umbrella back into his drink before taking a sip. The question has been weighing on his mind. It's very important information he needs.
“Yes,” Geralt answers gruffly, looking like he’d much rather be making more drinks than chatting about his hair color to a stranger. Jaskier can’t tell if it's disinterest in him or disinterest in talking about himself.
“You’ve been blessed by the gods darling,” Jaskier responds, remaining relatively unfazed by Geralt’s apparent disinterest in his line of questioning. He can’t blame him–the bar is quite busy.
Geralt makes a low humming sound in his throat as a response to Jaskier before turning to the side to help another customer with their drink order. After watching Geralt help a new influx of customers for a good few minutes, he cuts his losses and places a 20 down on the bar top before twisting out of his seat and searching for Eskel.
***
Jaskier approaches Eskel, who's standing against the dark wall near the slowly populating dance floor. Pouting, he bumps shoulders with Eskel and leans his head back against the bricks.
“Strike out on the free drink?” Eskel asks with a smirk on his face. He knows Jaskier far too well already. What can he say? Jaskier’s an easy man to get to know. He is honest to a fault once you get past his usual dramatics. Eskel is particularly good at reading people.
“I didn’t even bother asking. I didn’t want to scare him off yet,” Jaskier responds, feeling quite forlorn about it all. Normally, Jaskier would cut his losses, but something about Geralt has him hooked. He also noticed the way Geralt stared at him, even if he didn’t add much to their conversation verbally.
“I know what your moves are, Jaskier. I wouldn’t bother–I love Geralt but he’s a surly bastard most of the time,” Eskel retorts, looking sympathetically at Jaskier.
Jaskier perks up, quirking his lips up, and asks, “So he’s into men at least?”
Eskel nods, looking to the side at the various pride flags posted by the front door. “Why do you think this place is a queer hotspot?”
Jaskier follows Eskel’s gaze, eyes stuck on the trans flag. Jaskier being trans had been a point of contention in his last relationship. Valdo had accepted Jaskier being trans to a certain degree but certainly didn't care to hold back on sharing his frankly transphobic thoughts, often. He could only assume that Geralt didn’t share the same ignorance based on the trans-friendly space he had created. Either way, Jaskier felt a nameless but familiar anxiety rise in his body.
Jaskier smiles a bittersweet smile before retorting cheerfully, “That’s good to know. That means I have a chance.”
***
Jaskier finishes his drink and moves over to the busy dance floor. The later it gets in the night, the louder the club grows. He might as well have some fun, even if he strikes out with Geralt. Jaskier loves to dance and loves music. He truly can lose himself in the heavy bass playing. Swaying his hips to the beat, he smiles at some other regulars he has chatted with in the past. His gold chains sparkle in the shifting lights, his shirt billowing with his movement.
As Jaskier spins around, he is surprised to find Geralt staring at him. The heat in his eyes is even more unexpected. Jaskier meets his intense gaze, smiling softly at the bartender. He reaches his hand up to give a small wave, still swaying his hips sensually to the song. Geralt’s full lips twitch, a ghost of a smile on his face. It’s enough to make Jaskier’s breath catch. He feels ridiculously affected by this man–it’s unbelievable.
Jaskier takes a deep breath, hyping himself up to approach the bar again. He pushes past nerves and the thought of rejection. Some people are worth the risk. He slides into the one empty seat that is coincidentally by where Geralt is standing. The other patrons laugh loudly, distracted by each other and their various levels of intoxication.
“Another Sex on the Beach?” Geralt asks, his tone light and teasing. Jaskier perks up at Geralt making conversation with him. It’s a a sign he doesn't want to kill Jaskier at least.
Jaskier smiles brightly. “No thanks. I just ordered that to make you smile, darling.” No matter that it did not make him smile.
Geralt scoffs playfully, leaning in to say, “You’re really not subtle, are you?”
There's no point in being subtle. Jaskier made his interest clear from the moment he sat at the bar. Geralt is attractive as hell, and a challenging person to get to know. Also, opposites attract.
“What can I say, I know what I want.” There’s really no point in beating around the bush. Especially when Jaskier would prefer to end the night in Geralt’s bed.
Leveling his face, Geralt responds in a monotone, “ I can tell.”
That surly bastard indeed.
“Don’t be rude.” Jaskier pouts in mock anger.
“Might be hard to avoid with me,” Geralt says in a frank tone. Jaskier appreciates how direct Geralt seems to be. Though somewhat rude, the lack of unnecessary flourishes is refreshing.
“So I’ve heard from Eskel. I’m more than willing to look past that attitude of yours if it means I can look at you.” Jaskier leans over the bar more, internally grimacing at the sticky bartop touching his elbows. It seems worth it to be closer to Geralt.
“Stop it,” Geralt says, scowling at the attention. It’s cute how angrily shy he is.
“I don’t think I will. You’re fun to rile up.” Jaskier smiles, fidgeting with his jewelry.
“So did you want a drink?” Geralt questions.
“Nope! I’ll be honest, I came to talk to you. Don't think I didn’t notice you staring at me dancing.” Jaskier figures honesty is the best policy.
Geralt hums in response, pointedly not denying the fact he was staring. His eyes are intense as always. Jaskier decides to press him a little bit. Smiling sharply, he asks, “Did you like what you saw?”
Geralt’s tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip before he responds with a simple, “Yes.”
Jaskier is pleasantly surprised it was that easy for him to answer that question so directly. His easy answer gives Jaskier the push to ask, “Well, do you wanna do anything about that?”
Geralt pauses for a second, looking lost in thought. What he’s thinking about, Jaskier has no idea. He reaches up to rub at his neck before responding, “The bar closes in an hour.”
Jaskier balks at him in response, still somehow surprised at his boldness. “Inviting me over?”
“Inviting you up. I live upstairs,” Geralt says, looking amused by Jaskier’s expression. So apparently the bumbling idiot act works for him. Good to know.
“Oh! I almost forgot you’re a fancy bar owner.” Jaskier giggles, rocking side to side on the bar stool. He feels giddy and slightly lightheaded after hearing Geralt's invitation.
“Barely,” Geralt dismisses. That man truly does not seem capable of accepting compliments. A shame, in Jaskiers opinion.
“I’ll wait for you,” Jaskier swears, giddy and excited for the night.
“I’ll see you in a bit then,” Geralt responds, still eternally stern looking but with a little smile on his face. With a long final look at Jaskier, a look that makes him blush, Geralt walks over to other customers at the bar.
***
The hour passes by quickly as Jaskier spends time on the dance floor and hangs out with Eskel. If he’s being honest, bragging to Eskel. As people are herded out of the bar by Eskel, Geralt approaches. He still is as formidably attractive as he was an hour ago. Greedy eyes follow Geralt as he meets Jaskier outside. Geralt’s gaze remains focused on Jaskier, oblivious to the attention that follows him.
“Hi,” Jaskier says, feeling oddly starstruck still.
“Ready to go?” Geralt steps closer, their faces only a few inches apart. Jaskier holds himself back from reaching out to touch his hair.
Jaskier nods dumbly, mute in the face of being so close to Geralt.
Geralt casually places a possessive hand on Jaskier’s lower back. People mill around outside the bar still, and Jaskier can’t help but to feel claimed by Geralt. Geralt tucks Jaskier to his side as they walk, his thumb rubbing back and forth. He plays with the hem of Jaskier’s shirt, his fingers sliding under the fabric. His touch is warm and comfortable. Jaskier appreciates how easily tactile he is.
They walk side by side, their hips bumping occasionally. As they turn to enter an alleyway, Geralt pushes him against a rough brick wall. Jaskier gasps. Geralt’s face is close to his, his hair brushing against Jaskier’s cheek. With no excuse not to, Jaskier can’t physically stop himself from reaching to twine the strands in between two fingers. Geralt’s soft white hair slides through his fingertips easily.
“Can I kiss you?” Geralt asks, eyes darting down to his lips.
“I’d be really cross with you if you didn’t, darling,” Jaskier responds with a gentle smile.
Geralt's left hand moves from the brick wall beside Jaskiers head to clasp at his neck. His soft grip is still strong and grounding. The heat of his palm feels so good. Too good. His other hand still rests in the arch of Jaskier’s lower back
Jaskier takes a deep breath through his nostrils as Geralt meets his lips. The kiss is immediately intense. Geralt sucks Jaskier’s lower lip into his mouth before sliding his tongue to brush against Jaskier’s. Geralt’s hips pin Jaskier’s, his other hand sliding from his back to grope his hip. Jaskier eagerly kisses back, trying hard not to be sloppy but mostly failing. Oh well.
Pulling away, a thin strand of saliva connects their lips. Jaskier can taste Geralt, slightly minty and sweet.
“Gods. Maybe we should go up to your place before getting arrested for public indecency,” Jaskier pants.
“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Geralt laughs lightly against his lips. His laugh is so cute, making him smile but also getting him a little wet. Duality of man, he guesses.
Geralt and Jaskier detach their tangles of limbs to walk up the narrow staircase to Geralt's apartment. Stumbling into the dark apartment, Geralt barely has a second to flip on a lamp in the hall before Jaskier is kissing him.
Geralt responds with gusto, his hands stroking up and down his back as Jaskier tries to devour him with his mouth. Their kisses are hot, wet and desperate—a little like the state of Jaskier’s body right now. He feels his underwear getting damp as they touch.
“Before we go any farther, I need to tell you something,” Jaskier forces out just as Geralt's hands start to tug near his beltline. His heart pounds in his chest.
Geralt pauses, raising his eyebrow and pulling back to make deep eye contact. “What is it?”
This is always the most nerve-wracking part of hooking up with people- not knowing how they will respond to Jaskier being different, or his body parts not being what they expected. Geralt remains silent, giving Jaskier space to explain himself. Jaskier doubts Geralt would judge him but he can’t help but stall his response.
Jaskier breaks eye contact, hoping looking away gives him enough courage to speak. “Fuck- let’s just get it out there. I’m trans. If that changes things or you are no longer interested, that’s okay.”
“Doesn’t matter to me,” Geralt responds after a few seconds, looking supportive but relatively unfazed by Jaskier telling him this.
Jaskier’s eyes crinkle as he looks up at Geralt. Of course, this man is hot as hell, a fantastic kisser, and casually supportive of Jaskier being trans. Jaskier thinks he’s well on his way to falling in love after a few hours of knowing him.
“Are there certain words or body parts I should avoid?” Geralt asks, no judgment in his tone.
“I had top surgery, so feel free to touch my chest. I’ve been on T for years now, so I have bottom growth that you can call my cock. Cunt and pussy are okay words to use. Frankly hot words, darling. You don’t have to avoid any body part. I want your hands on me,” Jaskier says, regaining some confidence.
“Good boy, thank you for telling me,” Geralt responds. Jaskier accidentally releases an audible choked whimper at Geralt calling him that. They only had so much alone time and somehow he’s been able to push at all of Jaskier’s buttons in the best way possible.
“You like being told you're good?” Geralt asks bluntly.
Jaskier blushes, ducking his head down. Geralt counters his movement by grasping at Jaskier's chin, tilting his head back up so he is forced to make eye contact.
“Answer me.”
“Oh Gods- yes, I do,” Jaskier responds, his lips parting. No partner has been able to read him so quickly as Geralt has been able to. He likes to be praised but he also loves to be put in his place.
“Do you want to be fucked tonight? I’m not sure how you feel about penetration,” Geralt clarifies.
“That’s a hard yes,” Jaskier responds, appreciative of Geralt checking in with him.
Geralt nods before shifting his fingers to run them through Jaskier’s brown waves. A gentle pressure on the back of his head pushes Jaskier forward towards Geralt's lips. This kiss starts off innocently enough. Their lips gently slide against each other, tongues meeting briefly. Jaskier pushes forward, nipping at Geralt's full bottom lip gently and tugging. Jaskier feels a rough exhale of breath against his mouth.
Geralt’s hand slides down to Jaskier’s lower back. His large hands span almost the entire width of his back. He tugs Jaskier’s front to meet his, the hard line of his cock pressing against Jaskier’s body.
Jaskier pulls away from their intense kiss to choke out, “You are so hot,” before connecting their lips again. He is wonderfully overwhelmed by the whole experience of being pressed up against Geralt. The feel of his heavily muscled body against his is otherworldly at this point.
As Jaskier loops his hands around Geralt's neck, Geralt's hands slide down to Jaskier’s ass. Jaskier’s hips stutter when he feels Geralt grabbing at his asscheeks, fingers biting into his flesh.
Geralt’s hands slide down to Jaskier’s thighs. “I’m gonna lift you up, okay?” he says before easily hoisting him up by the thighs, encouraging Jaskier to wrap his legs around his trim waist. Jaskier tucks his face into Geralt’s neck, planting soft sucking kisses, turned on by Geralt’s easy strength. Geralt walks a few steps before Jaskier is pressed gently into the wall.
Jaskier juts his hips forward into Geralt’s hardness, aching for stimulation. Geralt effortlessly counters his movement, shifting his hands as he holds Jaskier’s body up one handed, his other hand pushing Jaskier’s lower body back to the wall. How much does this man work out? Fuck. It clearly must be an insane amount, considering he’s not close to being out of breath. At this point, Jaskier is more out of breath than Geralt.
Jaskier winces when his head meets the wall. Geralt takes advantage of Jaskier’s throat being bared, biting down on his delicate skin. His tongue soothes each bite he gives.
Geralt bites his way up to Jaskier’s earlobe, tugging at his dangly earring with his mouth before mumbling, “Can I bring you to my bedroom?”
“Please,” Jaskier responds, frantic to move things along. Foreplay with Geralt is amazing, but he would much rather see him naked.
Geralt slides his grip on Jaskier’s thighs to his ass after pulling him away from the wall. He walks presumably towards his bedroom, his steps jostling Jaskier slightly. A few moments later, Jaskier feels the soft comforter on top of Geralt’s queen bed. He takes a second to look around.
His room is understated but comfortable. The walls are painted a muted blue. There’s a bookshelf against the far wall. A couple of framed photos sit among the books and various knickknacks. One of the photos is Geralt smiling widely, standing next to Eskel and Lambert, arms slung over their shoulders.
Geralt catches his gaze and his eyebrows furrow, suddenly grumpy. He doesn’t look happy with the attention.
“Excuse me! I’m allowed to look! You are so precious, Geralt!” Jaskier says, pointing at the framed photo.
“Do you want to look at photos of me on a bookshelf or do you want me to take your clothes off? Choice is yours,” Geralt snaps, quickly drawing Jaskier’s attention back to the two of them paused on his bed.
“Clothes, definitely the clothes,” Jaskier responds with a giggle. He loves teasing Geralt now that he’s pretty sure his grumbles and frowns are nothing to be intimidated by. He’s like an angry puppy. All bark no bite. Well maybe, some bite.
Geralt moves to unbutton Jaskier’s top, his thick fingers surprisingly nimble. He quickly pulls open his shirt, teasingly skimming his fingers across his chest, avoiding his nipples. Jaskier scrambles to shrug his arms out of his shirt, messily rushing through undressing himself. He drags himself closer immediately for more skin-to-skin contact. Geralt pushes him back slightly to bend his head down and place a short kiss on his sternum. He drags his tongue across his chest and scars before circling it around Jaskier’s right nipple. He pulls back slightly to blow on his wet skin.
Jaskier gasps at the sensation of Geralt’s breath cooling down his skin. He gasps even louder as Geralt closes his teeth around his nipple. The wetness between his thighs grows, his underwear starting to feel drenched.
“F-fuck,” Jaskier moans.
Geralt smiles cruelly against his skin, moving his fingers down Jaskier’s dark happy trail. He pauses at the line of Jaskier’s pants and looks up for permission.
“Take your shirt off first,” Jaskier responds to his unspoken question, wanting to see more of Geralt and even the playing field.
Geralt tugs his shirt up over his broad shoulders, revealing pale skin with various types and shapes of scars. His torso stretches, showing off defined v-lines. Jaskier blushes at the sight of him. His body is unreal. Geralt reaches for the button to Jaskier’s tight pants, unzipping them slowly. Jaskier lifts his hips up, wiggling as Geralt pulls his pants off.
Geralt’s eyes flicker down to where there's a visible wet spot on his dark gray underwear. Jaskier bites his lip, uncharacteristically embarrassed about his arousal and resisting the urge to close his legs tightly. Geralt seems to be having the opposite reaction.
“You that wet for me, sweetheart?” Geralt murmurs, looking especially affected by the evidence of Jaskier’s arousal.
Jaskier lets his legs fall apart even more, spurred on by Geralt's gruff tone. “Why don’t you come find out?”
Geralt doesn’t hesitate to hook his fingers under the band of Jaskier’s underwear to yank them off. Without his tight briefs on, Jaskier can feel the wetness that has slid down from his cunt to his inner thighs. The folds of his pussy are drenched with his arousal.
“Can I eat you out?” Geralt asks, looking feral and half out of his mind. His golden irises are almost completely consumed by his widened pupils.
Jaskier doesn’t have to think twice before he’s nodding his head. Geralt slides down the bed until his head is in between Jaskier’s thighs. Geralt presses his lips to Jaskier’s inner thigh, a pale imitation of a real kiss, before closing his teeth on Jaskier’s soft flesh. Releasing his thigh, he looks up at Jaskier, who’s staring back with his mouth parted open. A light blush covers his cheeks. Geralt pauses, just staring, eyes glued between Jaskier’s thighs.
Jaskier pouts. “Just do something already.” He is noticeably losing his patience, tilting his hips greedily towards Geralt in hopes he will take pity on him.
Looking like he’s diving in for a five-course meal, Geralt parts Jaskier with his fingers. Jaskier jolts as Geralt licks a broad stroke up Jaskier’s cunt, collecting all of his slick on his tongue. He feels a low growling sound against his cunt more than he hears it.
Jaskier moans mindlessly in response, already lost in the sensation of Geralt’s tongue against him. Geralt laps up and down Jaskier’s pussy, almost casually, warming him up for the night. He lavishes attention left before turning to do the same to the right, skimming just the outside of his core, Geralt’s tongue and mouth avoid where he wants it most, on his aching cock.
“Don’t tease,” Jaskier huffs.
Geralt lifts his head slightly to respond, breath warm on his skin. “I’ll suck your cock soon. Just be a good boy. Lie back and take it.”
“I’ll be good if you—uhhh.” Geralt’s tongue swirling around his cock cuts him off. All complaints die on his tongue as Geralt proves his point. Geralt closes his lips around him, sloppily sucking on his small cock. Jaskier feels ever so slightly insane. He doesn’t know if he’s ever gotten head like this before. Jaskier is an absolute mess now: brown hair messy against the pillow, chest heaving up and down, his lips bitten raw from trying to hold moans in.
Geralt moves his lips off Jaskier’s swollen cock, licking a line down to his entrance. His nose presses into Jaskier’s cunt as he fucks his tongue into Jaskier’s hole. He doesn't seem like he can breathe, but that certainly isn't holding him back. Jaskier fists his hands in the soft comforter. Geralt, with his face still buried in Jaskier’s heat, grabs Jaskier’s left hand and guides it to his white hair.
Jaskier immediately wraps his hand around a fistful of Geralt’s hair, grinding his hips slightly against his face. Geralt trails back up to Jaskier’s cock in a series of deep kisses. It’s unbelievably erotic, the way he’s essentially making out with Jaskier’s cunt. Geralt returns to sucking Jaskier’s cock, rhythmically increasing pressure as his fingers trail down to rub light circles at Jaskier’s hole.
Jaskier feels like he’s entering another plane of consciousness, focused only on how good Geralt’s mouth feels. The room darkens as his eyes flutter shut.
“Shhh- baby. I’ll give you what you need,” Geralt soothes, gently rubbing and massaging his thigh. Jaskier moans softly at the point of connection helping him feel grounded. Jaskier hadn't even noticed that he was whimpering please please please under his breath unconsciously.
It’s normally very difficult for Jaskier to let go while having sex, being a natural born performer both in his personal life and in bed with partners. At this moment, though, he lets himself relax and just feel. And Gods, does he feel. He feels amazing.
The room is filled with the combination of Jaskier’s whimpers and Geralt’s muffled breaths.
“You gonna come for me? C’mon,” Geralt asks as he slips a thick finger into Jaskier’s hole. Jaskier’s breath shudders as Geralt starts to thrust his finger, hooking up towards his g-spot while tonguing circles around his cock. Moans spill out of his mouth as he starts getting close to his peak. He raises his head to stare at Geralt who is already watching him, eyes intense and greedy.
“Fuck, Geralt. Fuck. F-fuck!” Jaskier chants as he comes. Geralt works him through his orgasm, his hand and mouth slowing but not stopping. Jaskier’s body jerks as he rides out the rolling waves of his peak. He whimpers, his cunt clenching down hard.
Geralt lifts his head, a feral grin on his face. Slick covers his lips, chin, and nose. He sits up, his cock a hard line in his black trousers. Gods, he’s so attractive, even more attractive with his lips swollen and his sharp little incisors showing.
“You’re insane, do you know that?” Jaskier says as he tries to catch his breath.
“I don’t think I’m done with you yet,” Geralt says, his finger still rocking into Jaskier. His movement is slow but intense, the rough pad of his finger catching on the edge of Jaskier’s hole. Jaskier has no real chance to catch his breath. That bastard. That teasing bastard who is unfairly talented at making him come.
“What?” Jaskier chokes out.
Geralt moves his hand away from Jaskier’s cunt, sliding his body up the bed to make more direct eye contact before asking, “Are you familiar with the stoplight system?”
“Y-yes, but it’s been a while since I’ve used it.”
Jaskier knows the system well but certainly doesn’t expect casual hookups to bring it up. His past partners have been more on the vanilla side of the spectrum. In all honesty, it’s been hard to find a sexual partner who can match him.
“What's your color then?” Geralt asks. Jaskier knows, in his heart, if he said yellow or red, he would respect it without question. It’s odd to trust this man so quickly after meeting him earlier that day. Jaskier reminds himself that Geralt and Eskel are close. Jaskier trusts that Eskel would have steered him away from Geralt if he was shitty. Also, shitty people don't generally bring up safewords.
“Fuck. Green. What are you planning to do to me, Geralt?” Jaskier is slightly terrified of the prospects, but mostly just turned on. Geralt’s easy dominance over him is tantalizingly hot.
“I think I’ll make you come again, if you are willing,” Geralt lilts, looking cocky. Gods. Of course he’s willing.
“O-okay. But what about you?” Jaskier says, staring pointedly at Geralt’s clothed bulge. It seems hardly fair to Geralt, though he looks immensely pleased even untouched.
“Later,” Geralt responds simply, turning the attention away.
Jaskier nods his head. Geralt leans forward to press a kiss at the corner of his mouth. Geralt traces his fingertips over Jaskier’s lips, and Jaskier releases a heavy breath through his nostrils. Jaskier’s swollen mouth parts, which Geralt immediately takes advantage of.
“Open your mouth,” Geralt says, or more accurately orders.
Jaskier obeys, whimpering as Geralt lays two thick fingers over his tongue. Jaskier, tongue out, looks to Geralt with curiosity.
Geralt, with his perpetually furrowed brows, mutters, “Suck.”
That sends a bolt of heat through Jaskier. Immediately encouraged, he closes his lips and begins to bob his head up and down over Geralt’s fingers. It’s not his cock, but it's good enough. Soft, lewd slurping sounds fill the room. Jaskier peers at Geralt’s intense face through his fluttering eyelashes.
“Good boy,” Geralt says as he moves his hand forward slightly. Jaskier chokes a little before whimpering, gripping Geralt’s wrist and encouraging him to fuck his mouth with his fingers.
“Fuck. You’re a slut for my fingers aren’t you, sweetheart? Desperate for me to fill any of your holes. Doesn’t matter which one.”
Spit drips down Jaskier’s chin. Before he can try to take his fingers deeper in his mouth, Geralt slides his hand back. Geralt pushes impatiently at Jaskier’s waist to get him to lay with his face down and hips up. Settling behind him and wasting no time, Geralt slips two fingers, the ones slick with Jaskier’s drool, into his cunt.
For all his teasing, Geralt doesn’t waste time, immediately fucking Jaskier. Starting with an easy pace, Geralt hooks his fingers down to find his g-spot again with an accuracy that makes Jaskier hiss.
Jaskier slides down to his elbows, the side of his face smashed against the bed. He wishes he could see Geralt, but the angle his hips are tilted at means Geralt can get deep and rough. Geralt's other hand grips the soft junction between his hips and his ass.
“Don’t hide your moans. You weren’t so shy earlier,” Geralt says, releasing Jaskier’s hip. He leans over and grabs Jaskier by a fistful of hair. Jaskiers neck stretches, pulled by his hair, and a long pitiful moan escapes. His scalp tingles as Geralt continues to grip his hair as his fingers increase in speed.
“Melitele.”
Jaskier is burning hot, his core lit up with honeyed heat. Geralt yanks Jaskier’s head to the side, licking at the sweat beading on his skin. Jaskier gasps when he feels a sharp bite on his earlobe.
“You’re so tight on my fingers, baby. Already want to come again, huh?” Geralt whispers into his ear. Jaskier shivers at the feeling of his breath on his ear. His voice is low and raspy.
Jaskier tries to nod his head but is stopped by the hand gripping his hair. He lets out a choked noise in response, hoping that it’s enough.
“Come on. I know you can ask for it.” Geralt’s soothing tone is at odds with how intensely his fingers are fucking into him.
“Please! Please, make me come,” Jaskier pants, strung out and worn down in the best and most frustrating way possible. He can’t tell which way is up or down, what's pleasure and what's pain. He twitches into the attention either way.
“Good boy.”
Geralt releases his hair and slips his fingers out of Jaskiers cunt. Flipping him over, Geralt quickly places himself between Jaskier’s thighs. He fucks his fingers back into Jaskier’s wet cunt roughly, scissoring them open on the down stroke. Geralt stares intently at him before licking a delicate circle around his small cock. Gods, this man loves to tease.
As Geralt slips a third finger into him, Jaskier releases an embarrassing high pitched sound as he is stretched to what feels like his max. Geralt’s hands are so big. As soon as Geralt’s mouth lightly nips at his cock, Jaskier is gone. His eyes slam shut as heat explodes in his core, pussy clamping around the three fingers. Geralt guides him through his orgasm, pulling his finger out but lapping broadly across his cunt and cock.
“Too much–too much!” Jaskier says, pushing at Geralt's head who is collecting his slick on his tongue. His thighs twitch uncontrollably, the pleasure quickly turning into overstimulation. He groans raggedly as Geralt gives his pussy one last suck before he leans away.
“Good job, sweetheart,” Geralt coos, watching Jaskier with a feral smile. He looks utterly pleased with the current state of Jaskier: boneless, sweaty, and sticky with arousal.
Jaskier relaxes fully into the bed. Geralt flops down next to him. They sit in comfortable silence, Geralt looks too pleased with himself. Meanwhile, Jaskier’s body feels discombobulated and messy with arousal.
“You know, you’re especially verbose in bed, Geralt,” Jaskier comments shakily. He still hasn’t quite caught his breath.
“You like it.”
“Of course I do. Believe me, I’m not complaining, it just surprised me.” Jaskier responds, brushing his hand against Geralt’s jawline, and wiping the slick across his lips and chin away.
Geralt is still hard next to him. Jaskier flips to his side, reaching his hand to skate across Geralt’s torso. Lightly brushing lower at his sparse happy trail with his fingertips, Jaskier asks, “Can I touch you?”
Geralt nods, shucking his boxers and pants off. Jaskier gasps at first glance. Geralt laughs faintly at his wide-eyed expression. He’s big. His cock curved up towards his belly, long and thick. The head of his dick is pink and wet with precum. Jaskier wastes no time getting his hand on him. His stroke is probably far too dry, but Geralt isn’t complaining. Jaskier pulls his fist up slowly, twisting it slightly around the head.
Geralt is quiet about his pleasure but not unaffected. His chest moves up and down harshly, and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth. Hand still jerking him, Jaskier stretches his neck to kiss Geralt’s neck. He licks a slow line up Geralt’s neck to his delicious jawline, ending his journey with his lips sucking just behind Geralt’s ear.
Geralt growls, grasping Jaskier’s jaw and turning him to kiss him roughly. Their kiss is biting and intense. Geralt nips at his lip before soothing it with his tongue. Jaskier tries his best to keep jerking him off but is distracted by their lips pressing together fervently.
After some indiscernible amount of minutes of them making out while Jaskier plays with his cock, Geralt pulls back a little to ask, “Can I fuck you?”
“Yeah, please,” Jaskier responds easily. He might die if he doesn’t get Geralt’s cock in him soon.
Geralt hops up to grab a condom from his bedside table. Naturally, Jaskier stares at his ass and thighs hungrily. After rolling it on, Geralt places himself against the headboard and pulls Jaskier onto his lap, tightly gripping his hips. Jaskier takes the opportunity to grind his wetness back and forth over his cock. Geralt makes a low sound of frustration.
“In a rush for me to sit on your cock?” Jaskier says with a showy wink, trying to hide his excitement of seeing Geralt lose his cool.
Instead of immediately responding with words, Geralt’s grip intensifies, hands guiding a much rougher grind. Jaskier’s hips stutter as Geralt’s cock brushes against his own.
“That’s your own prerogative, Jaskier. We can sit here like this for as long as you want,” Geralt teases back. His cock is still sliding through Jaskier’s wet folds and fucked-open hole.
“Fine, you bastard,” Jaskier says in mock sulkiness. It’s not fair that Geralt can see right through his sassiness straight to the needy desperation underneath.
In an act of defiance, Jaskier lifts his body up, positioning Geralt’s dick at his entrance. He slowly sits, his mouth parting as he rocks his hips down in slow increments. Geralt is thick and hot in his cunt. He hisses at the stretch, not used to the thickness.
“Shit, you’re tight. Are you okay?” Geralt growls. His body is tense underneath him, his jaw working.
“B-better than, darling.” Jaskier responds with a soft moan as he sits down fully on his cock.
Geralt grips at the outside of Jaskier’s thighs which are spread widely to accommodate Geralt’s body, his fingertips pressing gently into pudgy skin, “Take a second.”
Jaskier leans forward, back curving in an effort to reach Geralt’s lips. It seems worth the back pain. Their tongues slide languidly against each other, spit-slick and warm. Syrupy heat fills his gut.
Geralt pulls back from his face, breathing harshly. “Fuck. You’re squeezing me so tight, baby.”
“You’re so big. Filling me up perfectly,” Jaskier responds honestly.
Jaskier experimentally lifts an inch or two, dropping back down harshly. Bent over like this, his cock brushes against Geralt’s tense stomach. His breath catches in his throat, a strangled sound coming out. Geralt’s hold on his thighs tighten, almost painfully. He hopes Geralt leaves finger-shaped bruises. He wants to remember this night, to remember Geralt’s touch.
Jaskier rocks his hips, exhaling roughly at the sensation. He slowly raises himself higher and higher, dropping down just as harshly. His thighs quickly start to ache from his quick rabbiting movements.
“Tired already, sweet thing?” Geralt lips upturn with an endearing unevenness.
Jaskier bobs his head up and down, feeling a little bit useless. “Yeah, sorry”
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you. All you have to do is be good for me and take it.” Geralt ends his sentence by jolting Jaskier’s hips up sharply. His cock drags roughly in his cunt, smarting a little. Jaskier splutters, his hands scrambling to find purchase in the sheets beside Geralt’s head.
Rabbiting his hips up, Geralt uses him like he’s nothing but a toy on his cock. Jaskier’s moans increase in volume. He hopes and prays Geralt doesn’t have neighbors too close by. Jaskier pulls his head from where he has it tucked into his shoulder weakly, wanting to see his eyes.
Geralt's golden gaze is intense on him. His bottom lip is caught roughly between his teeth, his nostrils flaring with each harsh breath he takes.
Jaskier gasps at Geralt’s hand pressed up against his cock, too distracted by his eyes to notice him sneaking a hand down. Geralt rubs slow firm circles, spreading his slick around. Geralt trails his fingers down to his rim where his cock is stretching him.
“Needy thing,” Geralt comments when Jaskier reaches down to pull at his wrist, encouraging it back up to his cock. Instead of listening to him, Geralt pulls his hand away completely. Jaskier makes a plaintive wounded sound. That bastard.
“Don’t complain. C’mere,” Geralt tuts, grabbing Jaskier’s waist to lift him up and encourage him to lay on his back. Jaskier grimaces slightly at the feeling of his cunt suddenly being empty. He can feel his hole try to squeeze down on nothing and fail, still stretched by the girth of Geralt’s dick. His strong hands push Jaskier’s thighs apart, sliding in between his legs.
Jaskier jolts up the bed as Geralt lightly slaps at his cunt with his open palm, before entering him in a deep thrust. For all his teasing earlier, he certainly doesn’t mess around. His hips smack wetly against Jaskier, the sting from Geralt’s slap turning him on even more.
Jaskier’s mouth drops open, pathetic little sounds spilling out of his mouth, as he tilts his hips, Geralt’s cockhead sliding against the bundle of nerves with each thrust. Geralt’s hand traces a path from where it was resting on his throat, down his chest and belly, back down to his cock.
“You gonna come on my cock? C’mon let me feel it, baby,” Geralt grunts into his neck, his lips sliding against the beads of sweat collecting in the dip of Jaskier’s collarbone.
Jaskier squirms against the bed, pressure in his core mounting. He pushes his hips into the sweet glide of Geralt’s fingers. He doesn’t even know how loud he’s being at this point. He can’t think. He can only feel–feel how tight his cunt is getting, like a vice wrapped around Geralt’s throbbing dick.
“Ger–Geralt, I’m gonna-“
Jaskiers vision darkens, his body jerking almost uncontrollably as he comes hard.
“Yes, that’s it. C’mon. That’s it. Good boy,” Geralt chokes out, his praise just extending Jaskier’s orgasm. Jaskier just keeps on twitching, his pussy contracting in the sweet aftershocks.
Geralt doesn’t pull back from his cunt, his hips slowing significantly to a deep roll. Jaskier almost wants to jerk away from the feeling, teetering on the edge of too much. Impossibly, Jaskier feels himself getting wetter. Geralt’s leisurely pace feels amazing after the pounding he just got.
Jaskier pulls at Geralt’s hair, encouraging him to pull his head back, interrupting him from sucking more bruising bites onto his neck. Jaskier looks pressingly at Geralt.
“You wanna come again, sweetheart? I think you can give me another. Come on, give it to me.” Geralt smirks and slows his hips into a dirty grind, his pelvis rocking against Jaskiers cock.
“You–Fuck–can’t possibly expect me to come again,” Jaskier grits out. This is the sweetest sort of torture. Jaskier can’t decide if he wants way more or way less. He’s leaning towards more. Geralt is overwhelming, to say the least. He is surprised to find he already feels himself teetering on the edge of another orgasm, only moments after his last.
“Color?” Geralt pulls back to look into Jaskier's watery eyes, giving him a moment of reprieve.
Jaskier looks into golden eyes, a flood of emotions engulfing him all at once, the most pressing two being sweltering desire and a deep fondness for this sweet stranger checking in with him so earnestly.
The decision really isn't as hard as it should be. “Uh— Fuck. Green!”
Geralt leans down and meets Jaskiers lips. The kiss immediately becomes mind-numbingly intense, their tongues sliding together wetly. Jaskier reaches up to knot his hand in Geralt's hair, tugging at the roots. Geralt moans into Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier savors any sound he can pull out of Geralt, turned on by the tangible evidence of his pleasure.
“Naughty,” Geralt grunts against his swollen lips, bruised and red. He catches Jaskier's bottom lip with his teeth and tugs harshly. Geralt hisses and his hips tilt up to slam into Jaskier’s sweet spot.
Jaskier’s voice gets louder and breathier as he squirms on Geralt’s cock.
“Right there–please don’t stop.”
Jaskier reaches down to rub circles on his aching sensitive cock. Geralt quickly intercepts, knocking Jaskier’s hand away. Geralt places his small cock between his two calloused fingers, jerking him off. He keeps the same angle and pace, not too fast but rough. Geralt tucks his head back in to roam across Jaskier’s neck, occasionally nipping and sucking at the sensitive junction between his neck and shoulder. He’s bound to be incredibly marked up and bruised by the end of this glorious night. Jaskier’s breath catches in his chest. He feels himself barreling quickly towards his final peak of the night.
“Gonna come. Oh my Gods!” Jaskier shouts, his cunt twitching rhythmically. Geralt doubles down, lifting his other hand and placing it on Jaskier’s throat. He doesn’t apply enough pressure to choke, but the thought of it is enough. Jaskier comes hard–a surprise, considering he has already come three times tonight. His eyes roll to the back of his head, his mind foggy with pleasure. He doesn’t know if he’s ever felt bone-deep satisfaction like this in his life.
“Fuck–good boy. So good for coming for me,” Geralt grunts, his hips losing the previously carefully controlled rhythm. The tight clench of Jaskier’s cunt from the aftershocks of his orgasm starting to noticeably affect Geralt. Jaskier jerks, quickly becoming overstimulated, but he’s determined to make Geralt come. Jaskier shifts, creating a sensual arch of his spine.
Geralt’s hands lift away from Jaskier’s throat and cunt. Jaskier snatches his right hand, gripping it tightly to his chest, wanting to offer another point of connection as Geralt grows increasingly erratic in his movements. Jaskier reaches with his other hand to stroke through Geralt’s sweaty silver locks.
“Please come in me. Fill me up?” he whispers, wanting nothing more than to feel Geralt’s pleasure inside of him, sensitivity be damned. Jaskier releases an embarrassing squeaky sound, and Geralt ruts his hips forward in one final movement, saying Jaskier’s name like it's something holy and precious before he comes with a loud deep groan– the loudest sound Geralt’s made tonight.
Geralt slumps forward, panting. His full body contact and body weight are a welcome cooldown for the both of them. His cock slowly softens in Jaskier’s body, and his hands stroke at Jaskier’s chest, lightly scratching at his chest hair. Jaskier strokes Geralt’s hair in return. Geralt leans back, cock slipping out with a nasty squelching sound.
“I’ll be right back,” Geralt says as he rolls out of the bed. When he turns, Jaskier sees red scratches down his back and shoulders. Oops. He can’t really be blamed for that, can he? Overstimulated and pleasured to the point he came four times in a row–he’s allowed to mark up Geralt’s back.
Geralt is only gone for a minute or two before he returns with a couple of water bottles and a damp cloth. Geralt presses gently at Jaskier’s inner thigh, encouraging him to part his legs. Jaskier smiles softly at Geralt, who’s cleaning him up gently. He runs the cloth between Jaskier’s legs. The rough fabric is a surprisingly soothing sensation on his tired cunt. He still feels slightly drunk with desire.
“Thank you for taking care of me, darling. I had so much fun,” Jaskier murmurs, wanting Geralt to know how good he feels. How good Geralt is making him feel. Unbelievably worn out but sated–sated in a way he hasn’t really ever been before. He thinks he could fall asleep right now.
“Stay the night,” Geralt murmurs in response, his gold gaze flickering away. He looks almost nervous to ask. Jaskier reaches to touch Geralt's jawline, endeared by his occasional shyness, especially after seeing his easy confidence in making Jaskier come, four times in a row.
His answer is easy. “Of course.”
After drinking some water and turning off the lamp, Geralt and Jaskier wiggle under the covers, choosing to ignore the wet spots across them. Enclosed in the darkness, Jaskier latches onto him like an octopus, tucking his head into Geralt's warm chest. They get comfortable and shift slightly against each other. Their legs are entangled together–a mess of limbs.
“I like you,” Jaskier whispers like it's a secret. His eyelashes flutter against Geralt’s skin as he blinks sleepily.
“You barely know me,” Geralt responds. His words are at odds with his hand brushing through Jaskier’s hair, fingertips dragging against his scalp softly.
“I like how you took care of me. You are quite a sweet man. I’d like to get to know you more,” Jaskier says, hushed and honest. He gives Geralt a well-deserved kiss on his chin. It’s quite possible Jaskier is being entirely too sweet with him, a person he met not even 5 hours ago.
“We can do that,” Geralt responds. Jaskier can’t see his face, but he sounds fond and soft. His tone is objectively far too tender for a simple hookup. Not that Jaskier is complaining–he’s already halfway to being in love.