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This was NOT Jaskier's fault.
In fact it was Geralt's. Well, mostly it was the hedge witch being utterly unreasonable and throwing around curses without even letting them explain, but Geralt was the one who decided to fuck the beautiful but insane witch - YET AGAIN! - so clearly it was Geralt's fault.
Jaskier had done no more than to sneak into the hut the two had been fucking in to hide from the husband of his own current love - because even a raging cuckold wouldn't follow him into the reach of a witcher who was bound to be very pissed off if someone decided to interrupted his sexy times just to geld a humble bard over a little dabble with his missus.
Although in retrospect, the guy might have also dropped his chase to not get too close to the mad witch. Either way, it wasn't Jaskier who decided to call out his name at the mere smell of him. But of course Geralt's new witch hadn't cared why he had called a name that wasn't hers mid-climax, she only cared that he had and cursed him before he'd even finished spurting out his witchery blanks.
So Geralt might blame him for being cursed, but by all reason Jaskier was neither the trigger-happy witch nor the one who had pissed off the witch nor even the one who had decided to fuck yet another witch in the first place!
He was just at the centre of the curse.
But they were going to get it lifted as soon as Geralt found Yennefer to ask her for the assist. She would never let him live that down, but she wasn't actually jealous when he screwed around the same way she did so at least she had some sense and would probably help them. Maybe. After making Geralt grovel anyway.
In that sense Jaskier understood the witcher's foul mood. Well, in that and for the fact that he had about the bluest balls he'd ever had already. It had only been two weeks and Geralt rarely had enough coin to spare for a prostitute that often, but he was generally still able to jerk off every other day at least.
Not so now, prostitute or hand or whatever. Now and for as long as the curse lasted, Geralt could only come inside the one he had dared to name while coming in the witch. Aka: Jaskier.
Only Geralt wasn't fucking him and never had. Nor any man that Jaskier knew of. Personally Jaskier could find beauty in different shapes and he was pretty sure that the witcher had exchanged hands with his brethren before, but he seemed to draw a line at actually fucking a man.
Jaskier didn't mind that, he had gotten over his boyhood crush along with the hero worship and no longer desired his now friend. (The constant stink of decaying monster guts in his gear, skin, hair and thanks to those horrible potions also on his breath had scoured Jaskier's lust faster than any marital status ever could and put Geralt much closer to Roach in his relationship assessment. He adored and might die for them both, but he wasn't trying get into bed with either.)
That consensus had never been an issue before. In fact it had removed the issue of Geralt getting annoyed by his younger self's clumsy flirting. Only now...
Well, now Geralt wasn't getting off and instead got more pissed off about that every single day. And he blamed Jaskier. And it was getting worse, Yennefer was nowhere here, Jaskier was already wondering if too blue balls getting no outlet could in fact just pop and the only solution he could think of to relieve the problem at least long enough to get that curse broken was- well, the obvious.
Jaskier wasn't angling to get Geralt's dick in him - aside from the smell issue there was also the slight problem of the witcher being utterly humongous and Jaskier having learned over the years that bigger wasn't always better and he didn't need to throw himself at every challenge anymore as he had proved himself plenty enough. But it seemed kind of necessary, so Jaskier would certainly do it - as much as he had to.
Only Geralt had to be such a terrible dick about the whole situation and getting blamed, cursed out and shouted at with gloweringly furious eyes like he was just the worst wasn't exactly the thing to make him relax and open up. So he didn't offer. (Though he did wonder about the curse; Geralt always said the wording was key. How inside Jaskier did Geralt have to be for it to work? Not that that mattered right then...)
Not for three weeks, as it turned out. At three weeks Geralt couldn't sit straight anymore and even Roach was getting pissed from his squirming while Jaskier morbidly imagined how huge his balls had to have swollen. As he had repeatedly across the last week Geralt tried jerking off at first, despite knowing full well that it wasn't going to work. And that proved right, as always. Geralt got himself hard enough to hammer a nail into stone and started panting like a racehorse, but he couldn't finish. He never even leaked a drop.
So he howled and snarled like a rabid dog and Jaskier had enough. He grabbed his cheapest cream and shoved his pants to his knees to work himself open. He didn't... he couldn't reach near as far as Geralt's inhumanly huge dick would go and he was far too tense for any of it to be good, but he could handle a sore hole to save his nerves from Geralt's temper and his stupid non-asking pride.
Of course Geralt looked no happier at him when he realized what Jaskier was doing and certainly not grateful, so maybe Jaskier was a tiny bit bitter and when he could finally wedge four fingers through his rim without too much issue, he maybe somewhat spat at Geralt:
"She didn't specify how far you had to be inside me, so try it with just the tip and use your hand on the rest of it. Then maybe we can all get some relief from this nonsense."
Geralt pretty much growled in response, but some part of him that he certainly wouldn't admit to seemed to realize what Jaskier was doing for him and he appeared just the tiniest bit humbled by it, shuffling much more quietly over to him as Jaskier picked a tree to brace himself against, poking his ass out. (He didn't want the torrents of spunk he expected anywhere near his bedroll. On that thought, he chucked his pants to safety and awaited Geralt. Please, please let this work with just the tip...)
It better. And more so than even he had anticipated. (Five fingers might have been better.) Geralt's tip was a bit more tapered than a normal man's, but fuck it was still big, stretching him wide enough to ache. But that was it, no more, and then he could hear the tell-tale whacking of Geralt's hand over his shaft, ever so slightly rocking the tip in his arse back and forth and making it twitch in a way that tickled his rim, but that was it and now it just had to work and-
A jerk of strong hips buried Geralt's dick just a tiny bit further, abruptly pushing him to his limit, but then it was gushing scalding hot spunk and that took a load of his chest. It worked. Geralt strained to keep his hips contained, but he was coming.
Jaskier's relief was immense, everyone's mood spontaneously improved and now he only had to wait and scrub his arse in the brook they'd washed their clothes in, because he was sticky as fuck and already leaking the moment Geralt pulled out. But it worked and now everything would be better. ...He thought.
The first warning sign was realizing that Geralt's balls didn't actually look at all relieved of their heavy load when he saw them as Geralt cleaned up himself. But he didn't think much of it. And even when Geralt came to him the very next day all grumbling and complaining about the curse again in a distinctly unsocial fashion for asking for help - that was still about as close as Geralt ever got to 'asking' him for anything - he mostly saw it as an annoyance. Because it was awkward, unsatisfying and messy - Geralt came waaay too much for decency's sake.
But with a dramatic roll of his eyes he still took off his clothes and stretched his rim as Geralt wanked so he could dip his tip and come 'inside' Jaskier. It wasn't good, but it worked well enough, given the circumstances. By the end of the week he was basically used to it. Unlike Geralt, whose frustration seemed to rise again.
And yeah, it really did seem to barely scratch the surface for him, so ultimately Jaskier put his foot down and told him - as soon as they had a nice isolated clearing near running water - to just get it all out. Just once, but thoroughly, no unsatisfying baby steps. Geralt snarked about whether he could really stay still long enough, but underneath that he seemed to let go of a tension he had been carrying since the first time they'd done this.
Well, no stuffing it away again without actual relief, he'd wank it all out and then they could have actual peace. Jaskier's knees might suffer, but he picked a super mossy soft spot - he wasn't sure he could hold himself up for however long that was going to take - and tried to get comfortable on his fours, already picturing the thorough bath he was going to be taking after this.
It was easy to think of the future with Geralt pulling his own knob behind him, then squeezing in just the tip when he was close so he could come, before pulling out to jerk himself to the edge again and dipping in once more for his climax and repeat and so on and so on.
The whole thing was not comfortable. Not since the first achingly wide stretch or the first load leaking all over his own unhappy balls as soon as Geralt pulled out again the first time. But thing was, it also didn't get better. You'd think he would adjust to it, that it would get easier. But every time Geralt pushed in his tip in it seemed to catch him unawares and stretch him more than he had thought it would all over again and for all that his taint, balls and thighs were all covered in come, by the sixth witcher orgasm he was starting to feel full.
Only for Geralt to push his cock back in his filled hole and make him feel like a virgin in over her head yet again. It almost seemed wider than before or... like it got deeper? He checked in with Geralt, who was still stoically pumping his dick to climax, but Geralt just gruffed back that yeah, it was just the tip.
So maybe it was all the come screwing with his perception. When Geralt shot even more into him now, it did feel even worse, like he was starting to bloat or something. But even as he squirmed from the feeling, he left it at that.
When Geralt left his tip inside his arse to wank for his next climax, Jaskier did protest, still remembering their first attempt and how even one tiny jerk of Geralt's hips escaping his control had come dangerously close to pain. He felt at the limit already, he didn't want an accident. But Geralt just barked that it would take forever if he kept getting his dick cold between rounds and dammit, he could see his point. His knees were starting to smart at being stood on the forest floor for so long.
"Fine, but you make extra sure you don't thrust, I'm not a rabbit you caught to put a spit through!"
Geralt huffed and he read it as agreement. (Geralt didn't voice agreement with him as such for a general rule.) And it... worked? His hole was already sore from its repeated invasions and the wide stretch each time, feeling sorer every time Geralt so much as throbbed, but it didn't feel like Geralt sank further in.
Not until he did come the next time, with a jerk of his hips that make Jaskier shout as his hole was abruptly at the very edge of its capabilities and protesting with a crash of blunt pain, but Geralt was too far gone in his own orgasm to hear him and then another gallon or however much a witcher could pack in one damn ejaculation erupted inside his guts and pushed the whole flood further up his insides to settle in his belly like a single massive rock.
Without warning, thinking only of his hole, he was caught by cramps throughout his lower middle and they stole his breath and brought him down to his elbows, arms shaking too hard to stay on his sore hands. Before he could breathe clearly he did his best to brace himself on only one so he could massage his belly to ease the aftershocks.
That took a good moment to ride and when he was okay again - okay enough anyway, his belly still felt hard and uneasy - there was already the whack whack whack of Geralt jerking off again. With his tip - or rather definitely a bit more than that now - still buried in his hole and at risk of accidentally going deeper again.
Yeah, nope. He was done with that.
"Get the fuck out of my bloody arse, Geralt, you're definitely too deep and clearly not in control anymore and I don't want to fucking bleed because you're too fine to wank outside and stick it back in after!"
"Relax, I pulled back to the tip like you said."
"Doesn't feel like it and-"
"You're sore, that's why it feel like that. I'm barely in anymore."
...Seriously? He kind of- well, it didn't feel like that. It felt like Geralt was deeper inside him than he ever had been! But his hole was sore as fuck aaand- wait, nope, not the point!
"I don't care how deep you are right now, you clearly can't stop those errant thrusts, so pull OUT!"
Geralt's hips slowed as he finally started to take Jaskier seriously. But he still didn't pull out yet. And as much as Jaskier appreciated the grumpy witcher's tone mellowing, this was not the reaction he had requested, no matter if Geralt had a point!
"Jask, you're barely keeping up. If I take much longer you'll fall asleep on me and I will NEED longer if I keep pulling out. Unless you want to be asleep for this?"
Kind of, if that meant that it was over faster. But mostly NOT because just the thought crept him out so much he insisted on Geralt pulling out until he was actually ready to come and though the witcher sighed hard at his request and Jaskier did cringe at the sound, he couldn't deny that part of him was still relieved once Geralt's cock slipped from his hole entirely.
Even though the splash of come following was pretty disgusting and it didn't stop the throbbing ache in his rim.
But sex was always messy and he was often sore, even when he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Not this sore maybe, but that was beside the point. The point was the relief he felt at no longer being impaled on even just the tip of a massive cock. It also didn't help the pinching tightness in his belly, but he was able to soothe that with a slight massage before-
It felt like no time at all, though he had certainly heard the rapid slapping of Geralt fucking his own fist, and the he was already grabbed by the hip and his hole felt punctured when the witcher jabbed his cock - even just the tip - right back through the strained muscle. He couldn't stop himself from crying out, it wasn't even a complaint, but Geralt hissed at once that it was literally just the tip, already angrily on the defensive again even in the middle of his orgasm.
Still he pulled out as soon he was done filling up Jaskier's guts even more and already the whack whack whack of his hand over his own cock thrummed in Jaskier's ears again. It felt a little like a count-down now... Until the next time Geralt stabbed his raw hole abruptly with his cock and shot it so full Jaskier could swear the gallons of come were pushing his very organs to the sidelines in his belly.
He just wanted it to end... Fuck.
"Alright, you can stay in if that will make it quicker, but- no further, alright? Even your damn tip feels like a tree stump to me at this point and I can't take any more than that."
"...You could if you wanted to. But I get it. No more than the tip."
He mentally agreed to disagree with Geralt and braced himself on the one forearm still keeping his face off the dirt as Geralt settled back into milking his shaft with the tip buried and pouring inside Jaskier's ass. Goodness, he was so sore it just felt worse every time the witcher's cock so much as throbbed...
Geralt bit his tongue and subtly sniffed to check if Jaskier was out of it enough not to notice him using Somne.
It could easily be confused for slipping into unconsciousness from exhaustion when used at the right time, but his patience was running out. This would all be much easier if Jaskier had just agreed to let him sleepfuck him in the first place. It would be better for Jaskier, too. And for both their ability to look each other in the eye after. Jaskier would never have to know anything and Geralt could bury the memory and any more he would have to make until they finally found Yennefer.
This, as it was, that was torture. For both of them. Jaskier's stupid insistence on not letting Geralt fuck him properly was just making him more ravenous. Yennefer edging him that one time hadn't made him this desperate to let go and he could practically feel his balls filling up to bursting every damn time he pulled out again.
Admittedly that could be part of the curse, but he doubted that the bard would do more than whine if Geralt told him that everything they had done so far was for nothing and they were pretty much just starting over all the time. Well, not completely. He looked down at the bard's swollen rim, white at times from strain and in some places from Geralt's come. It took his cock so well...
Not nearly enough of it yet, not while he still had to go slow so Jaskier would still accept that it was just the tip. How anyone could fail to realize that they now had the first third of a witcher cock in their arse was beyond him, but then again humans had notoriously dull senses, especially when it came to pinpointing pains within their inner organs.
Still it felt like so much of him was still cold and he could barely keep his inching inside to a minimum until Jaskier finally started passing out. It was only for seconds at a time for now, but it meant that his head was fuzzy enough: Geralt used Somne on the back of his head and the human slumped - deeply and firmly sleep in an instant.
At last!
At least Geralt didn't need to hold himself back the entire time. Jaskier's hole even relaxed a little without his tension, helping even more to finally let Geralt grind his way inside with purpose, inching forth and back and shallowly fucking and a tiny bit more and more and letting it adjust only to fuck in more until half his cock was buried and then more than half, going on two thirds...
It still felt like it took forever, but he got closer and closer on each turn as Jaskier limply slept under the power of Somne. Finally, finally, fucking finally he managed to bottom out without tearing anything that he would then never hear the end of. Finally he could actually fuck the bard.
He came at the first true thrust, tip to root in one go, and for once he didn't have to still but could ride it out, fucking the human through it, and go straight for the next one. Thank all the gods - yeah, even the lion-headed spider for all he cared - this had been worth it after all.
Finally he could fuck it all out...
The muscles of Jaskier's hole could fight him all they wanted, but they still all failed. And lo and behold, he had been right! Like he knew he would be. ...Part of him wanted to fuck Jaskier on his fist just to prove that he could, that Jaskier would stretch for him, but his cock came first, fucking more easily and then harder, almost sloshing in the come he had already spent in the bard.
Jaskier should be grateful about that. Thanks to his insistence on getting no more in him, Geralt hadn't lubed his cock past the tip. As a result his come was the only thing sparing Jaskier from getting fucked dry. Now it wasn't the most perfect lube and the way the first few inches of Jaskier's guts that followed him out every time he pulled back could attest to that, but a little bit of prolapse was not the same as tearing open and needing stitches. Jaskier could handle this much. Fuck, he would be so sore in the morning he might not even be able to tell.
And even if he did suspect, he would dismiss it like so many facts that had suffered a quick death to his creative freedom over the years. Really, he lied about Geralt so much he shouldn't be surprised the witcher lied back. And it wasn't like it was malicious. He took all that time and care specifically to spare Jaskier from any actual harm. So even if Jaskier wouldn't want this if he knew, what did it do to him while he didn't?
He would be sore either way, whether Geralt kept to his demands or fucked him properly, so there was no practical difference in doing this his way. It wasn't like he had forced Jaskier to his knees, screaming and fighting. Dammit, he had literally initiated the sex! That was as agreeing as it got.
So Geralt accepted no guilt for fucking Jaskier, slamming into him hard enough to slap their balls together without even stuttering in his rhythm when he peaked. At one point his knees creaked and he stretched his legs a little and turned Jaskier on his back – without ever fully pulling out – so he could shift their positions a bit. That also had the benefit of showing him how Jaskier's belly was starting to bulge with his come and that just made him hornier. If he fucked the bard hard enough at the right angle he could even see the very tip of his dick pushing up his abdominal wall.
Damn, he should have taken the bard up on his flirting when they first met. He had figured the boy would run if he did and if his refusal to take Geralt's entire dick was any indicator he really might have. But it would have been so sweet...
The thought tipped him over again and he finally felt like they might be getting somewhere, but it still took several hours for his balls to actually feel light . Hours of maintaining Somne so he could fuck the bard as he wanted. At least his hole was sloppy by then, almost half a finger's length of guts puffing out at every pull. Geralt could also fit two fingers in beside his cock by then, allowing him to stimulate it more precisely while he fucked. Admittedly the looseness of Jaskier's hole also made it rather necessary to add some external pressure.
That led him to adding a third finger and finally a fourth as Jaskier's hole just gave up more and more. Enough so that he could definitely fit his fist in there if he ever took his cock out again. ...Unless? Huh. If this went on for much longer he just might be able to get both it, then he could jerk himself off inside Jaskier!
Considering just how weak the clutch of Jaskier's rim was getting he kept that in mind and started inching his fingers deeper as time kept going by.
If he couldn't empty himself soon it he would have to go through the morning... And yeah, the curse was definitely hindering him - he had never come this often in a row before. Although he was starting to get an inkling of an idea now. He could only come in Jaskier... But what if he couldn't come in Jaskier, either? What if he fucked so much he had nothing left to give? ...He had a feeling that that might just be what would break the curse and that was why it was so hard to empty himself. The curse was protecting itself. But he was emptying himself, as slowly as it might be going.
He just had to keep doing this and then he wouldn't even have to ask Yennefer to break the curse with her magic, he wouldn't even have to tell her about getting cursed in the first place!
So he fucked with renewed vigour, pushing at the distension in Jaskier's belly to even it out - just in case his bowels might burst otherwise - without taking a break except from pushing his fingers in. That sorted, he went right back to them, squeezing along his cock to get his palm through the slack hole. He only needed one more finger...
Even after all its failings Jaskier's rim still strained against that and he had to inch back and forth to keep it from ripping at last, but even coming three times in the meantime and smelling the first inklings of dawn in the air he finally got his thumb through. And thus his hand, flat against his cock. But not anymore! Once he had Jaskier's hole clutching his wrist he managed to ball up his hand to make a fist inside the bard and fuck into that , squeezing himself tighter than Jaskier's body was capable of any more. And that way he would get all his remaining orgasms out!
One more. Another. Closer. Damn, Jaskier's belly was looking big again. Another. Squeezing tighter and rocking his hand a little because there was just no way to hold still when he had a leaking hole clutching his cock and wrist. Deeper. Further. Another peak. The sun was definitely coming up but he could feel his cursed balls emptying out more and more and he just knew that they would fill back up to bursting in a blink if he didn't see this through.
His hold on Somne wavered with his exhaustion, but he was so close! The sun started climbing, but he was getting there. Just had to disperse the clotting mass of come in Jaskier's guts a bit. Just in time to add another load. He pushed it higher to make room and added more again, felt Jaskier's hole slack more and more and managed to sink a bit deeper inside, the sheer volume he was putting inside that loose arse spurring him only more.
His next orgasm felt like it might genuinely be one of the last and he wondered if being more 'inside Jaskier' actually helped break it faster. Just in case he tried wedging a little more of his forearm inside, as far as he could without losing his grip on his cock. Or maybe? He shifted the cum clot through Jaskier's abdomen one last time and pulled his right arm back until only the hand was inside Jaskier, then squeezed in the first finger from his left.
As it turned out, though, his other hand wasn't necessary. It took only four more orgasms aided by two fingers from his left and he felt that that was the last load from his balls. Now just one that would be dry and...
Done.
When he pulled out now, his balls stayed empty. The curse was broken. And Jaskier... his hole looked ready to suck in a tree branch! (And Geralt had an impulse to give him just that. Just as a petty little bit of proof that he could take it. 'Just the tip', his arse!
Fine, so this would probably hurt if Jaskier was awake for it. When Geralt pulled out his hand, almost its length of loosened guts followed suit, puffed up and pink like a massive rosebud blooming from the bard's arse – bet he'd like that comparison. But Geralt pushed it back in and just took in the state of Jaskier's hole. It was gaping so wide he could....
Alright, maybe it was petty as fuck. But Jaskier wouldn't know anyway and he was curious, so he pushed his hand back in and sank the first part of his forearm along. Not restricted by his cock, though, he went a bit deeper than before. The hole really did just suck him up. Well, maybe it didn't suck, but it sure didn't resist more and more of his forearm going inside the bard until he literally reached his elbow.
His cock almost stirred again at the temptation, but wasn't able to rise anymore. ...Temptation won anyway – what difference did it make now, anyway? - so he pushed harder and the only genuine resistance he met was from the condensed come inside Jaskier. So he pushed just a bit more and it actually fucking slipped in.
He couldn't help himself but grin, buried to his upper arm inside the bard, and even though he had to pull out again and then push Jaskier's increasingly annoying prolapse back in, he knew that he would treasure that sight.
It was the least he could keep in his memories, since he wasn't able to tell Jaskier that he had been right about him being able to take it as long as he just relaxed. But sadly, Jaskier couldn't know. With that in mind Geralt let him sleep the rest of the day so his ass could start closing up and tightening down again.
In fact he even jerked off again before the bard woke up. And he came . Just. FINE. (Ogling Jaskier's still gaping arse.)