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The last thing that Geralt expects while he’s tucked away at Kaer Morhen is for Yennefer to come portalling into the great hall, startling all of them enough to have them on their feet with their swords drawn. Of course, she looks unimpressed by their display and only then does he realize that Yennefer’s not alone.
Jaskier stumbles through the portal behind her, but there’s something… off about him. He’s pale and sweaty, his doublet damp enough to stick to his skin, if the way he keeps tugging at it is any indication. His eyes are dilated and there’s a strange odor that’s woven through his usual scent, something floral and chemically that makes Geralt’s nose wrinkle. “Jaskier?” he asks stupidly, sheathing his sword.
“Yes, it’s me. I, uh--”
“Your idot bard needs your help, Geralt. He’s lucky I stumbled across him and could get him here. Otherwise, he probably would have been raped and killed,” is all Yennefer says before she turns to look at Jaskier, staring down her nose at him like he’s a particularly troublesome pet that’s done something naughty on one of her nice rugs. “You get to explain to him what happened. That was not part of our deal. Now, my payment?’
Neither of them speak again as Jaskier holds out his hand, still wavering on his feet like they might come out from under him at any second. Geralt watches as Yennefer pulls something from within her robes and pricks Jaskier’s finger, the bard flinching away and sucking on the tip. His eyes go a little glazed over and before Geralt can ask what the fuck is going on, Yennefer opens another portal and is just gone.
What the fuck.
“Jaskier, I think you have some explaining to do,” is what he says instead. The others have stood down by now, but it’s obvious they’re all watching with varying levels of interest. “You were with Yennefer? I thought you were supposed to be in Oxenfurt, teaching.”
Jaskier tugs at the collar of his doublet, and Geralt has to stop himself from inhaling audibly as the bard’s scent perfumes the air. It’s stronger than usual, and the familiarity of it makes Geralt’s gut tighten a bit. He hears Lambert and Eskel shift from behind him, but neither of them speak. Underneath the strange chemical smell, it’s the spicy, cinnamon-hot smell of Jaskier’s lust and he can’t fault them for enjoying it. “Well, I was. At Oxenfurt, I mean. I got an invitation to play at a festival near Vengerberg, in some hamlet town by the local duke. I… uh, didn’t know it was a fertility festival and apparently it’s common for them to set out draughts of a particularly potent potion for sexual endeavors.”
Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. “You drank a fertility potion?”
“Not by choice! I thought it was wine! This time it wasn’t my fault, I promise you. I was playing my set and I got thirsty and there was a tankard sitting on the table nearest the stage and I thought someone had set it out for me!” Jaskier’s cheeks are starting to turn a very attractive shade of pink, from the ire or the potion is anyone’s guess. Sweat beads on his forehead and trickles down his skin when he stamps his foot. “You can’t blame me for my misfortunes this time, Geralt. For once I was innocent and it was an accident. The mayor even apologized. Why Yennefer was there is anyone’s guess, but it was fortunate.”
Oh, Geralt has a guess, all right, but he’s wise enough to keep it to himself. “And you asked her to bring you here? Why?”
Jaskier glances around, looking distinctly uncomfortable. A prominent bulge is beginning to form in the front of his breeches, a spot of wet darkening the fabric where the head of his cock is sitting. “From what the mayor told me, the potion grants the drinker abnormal stamina and endurance. Also, why wouldn’t I come find you?” His eyes widen and he tugs nervously at his collar again, the bitter tang of disappointment souring his alluring smell. “Unless you don’t want me here, which I guess is understandable. This is your winter den and I’m… well, we’ve never discussed it but I-”
Geralt doesn’t give him the chance to talk himself into a spiral. He steps closer, breathing in the hot smell of Jaskier’s lust and letting it wash over him. “Hush, it’s fine. I’m happy you’re here, and I’ll help you in whatever way I can, only because this time it wasn’t your fault.” He swoops in and swallows down the indignant noise Jaskier makes with a sharp, biting kiss that has Jaskier melting against him. The spicy smell of him spikes and Geralt moans against Jaskier’s lips. It must be a side effect of the potion, because he can feel his own body starting to respond in kind, the urge to rut, breed, fuck is suddenly strong.
Judging from the growls echoing behind them, he’s not the only one affected. Geralt glances behind him to see that Vesemir has disappeared somewhere in the keep, but both Lambert and Eskel are watching Jaskier with the same look they get when they’re on the hunt. Eskel’s being a little more discreet about it, but Lambert is openly thumbing at the front of his trousers, licking his lips.
“You didn’t tell us your bard was so pretty, Geralt,” he mocks, a grin curving up on his face. “He smells like a pricey whorehouse.” It should sound like an insult, but Jaskier shivers in Geralt’s grip and the smell gets even more intense and Lambert’s pupils blow even wider. “Fuck, he’s so fucking ripe.”
Geralt bares his teeth and the urge to snap them at Lambert hits him like a punch in the face. “How much of that potion did you drink, Jaskier?” he asks, watching his brothers while trying to keep a hold on Jaskier. He trusts them to keep themselves in check, but he’s also well aware of what happens when potions go awry.
Jaskier lets out a pretty moan and he starts shaking in Geralt’s arms, flushing prettily as his smell spikes again. It’s starting to get hard to think as lust clouds his brain, his cock hard in his trousers and the urge to fuck Jaskier against the nearest surface rising again. “About half. Oh, Geralt, it’s getting worse. I’m so hot, and I feel like I’m going to die if you don’t get your cock in me.”
A low growl builds in Geralt’s throat and he ducks down to nose along the line of Jaskier’s jaw. It’s been too long since his bard has smelled like him, like them, and Geralt can’t see any reason not to give Jaskier exactly what he wants. “Right here? In front of the fire? In front of my brothers?” A fresh wave of Jaskier’s lust-scent rolls over him and Geralt has to fight to keep his head. “I bet you want them to fuck you too, help me breed you up full, huh?”
“Oh, oh, Geralt, please, want you to, want all of you to,” Jaskier begs, stepping back just far enough to start stripping out of his clothes. His eyes are glazed over and he’s flushed so pretty, from nipples to nose, and Geralt wants to ruin him. “Do you want to share me with them? Please, I want you to, I’ll be so good to you, to all of you.” His skin is glistening with sweat and when he pulls his breeches down, his cock bobs out, already hard and leaking. The sight of it makes Geralt’s mouth water.
He takes a deep breath and turns around to face his brothers. Lambert is openly panting, his eyes rolled back as he scents Jaskier from across the room. Eskel has the courtesy to meet his eyes, though Geralt can see the naked want in his lust-blown eyes. “What do you say, Wolf? He’s suffering, and if it’s some kind of lust potion, he might need all of us.”
Geralt sighs. He knows Eskel is probably right, but the idea of Jaskier not fully being able to consent to it, due to the effects of the potion, bothers him. With a growl, he turns back to his bard, who has already climbed onto the table and is working his cock with a fervor Geralt didn’t know he possessed. Fuck, it’s a sight that Geralt is very familiar with, Jaskier wet and wanting and looking at him with heat in his eyes. It’s making it even harder to think. “All right. Jaskier? I know it’s hard, but I need you to listen to me very carefully, and then I’ll take care of you. We’ll take care of you. Do you want Lambert and Eskel too?” The idea of sharing his prize, his Jaskier with his brothers makes something inside of him purr that has nothing to do with the effects of the potion.
Jaskier takes a deep, shuddering breath, then another. His eyes clear a little and Geralt can tell he’s desperately trying to fight the effects of the potion. His chest swells with pride at how fierce his pretty mate is, how strong, and--
Wait. Mate?
An unexpected bolt of heat frizzles across his nerves and his cock throbs at the idea of mating Jaskier properly, breeding him up full and keeping him wet and open for the entire season so they can keep him round and fat with their come.
So lost in that thought, he almost misses Jaskier’s answer. “I know you probably think ill of me for saying yes, but yes?” There’s another spike in his scent, but it’s that bitter tang again, tasting of sadness and shame on the back of Geralt’s throat. Oh no, that won’t do at all.
“I don’t,” Geralt growls, starting to strip out of his shirt and trousers. They never wore armor here, tucked inside the keep in winter, and he’s glad for it. The sooner he can get naked and into Jaskier, the better. “How can I, when I get to share my beautiful mate with my pack? Let them have a taste of you, even though you’re mine,” he adds as he steps forward, grabbing Jaskier’s ass and pulling him to the edge of the table.
Jaskier whimpers and arches up, offering himself up beautifully under Geralt’s hands. He can hear the other two shifting, the sound of clothes dropping to the floor, but Geralt can only watch as Jaskier writhes and pants against the tabletop.
He smooths his hands down Jaskier’s trembling thighs and watches his cock twitch, red and wet and leaking at the tip. Jaskier lets out another beautiful noise when Geralt’s thumbs find his hole, hooking them inside to find that he’s wet here too. “Oh fuck, is that--” he hears Lambert ask behind him and Geralt’s too busy struggling not to just bury his face in Jaskier’s ass to answer.
“Jaskier… you’re wet already,” Geralt says, pushing the tip of his thumb inside and letting out a groan of his own when he sinks inside effortlessly. Usually, it takes Jaskier at least one orgasm and a good, solid half hour of fingering to get him this wet and loose. Geralt’s cock aches and he knows he’s leaking too, feeling the dribbles of precome making their way down his shaft. “Did the mayor say anything about this?”
Jaskier whines and wiggles back onto his thumb, his hole sucking the digit inside as he writhes. “Oh, yes!” he cries out, voice pitching higher when Geralt pulls it out to stuff two fingers inside of him instead. He’s hot inside and Geralt growls at the way his body ripples around his fingers, so ripe and ready to be taken. “He said, uh, it makes it easier for breeding. No, fuck, oil needed.” No oil indeed, if the way his hole is soft and loose is any indication. “Do-do you like it?”
He almost doesn’t answer, doesn’t want to give himself away, but Jaskier looks so forlorn at the idea of him not liking it that Geralt has to tell him. “Yes, fuck. Almost wish I could keep you like this, where you’d be wet and open for me all the time.” Jaskier keens and starts rocking his hips back, gasping prettily when Geralt adds another finger. The wet clutch of his hole is delicious and Geralt can feel that same urge to breed, to fuck and fill, rising again. “Just think, Jaskier, think of full you’re going to be after this, we’ll fuck you over and over until it takes, until you’re fat and round with pups just for us.”
They know it’ll never happen, but fuck if it doesn’t make Geralt’s blood run hotter thinking of Jaskier bred full, amplified by the wave of spicy-hot cinnamon lust he gets from the bard beneath him. Twin growls of approval sound from either side of them, and Geralt looks over to see both Lambert and Eskel standing by the table’s edge, watching Jaskier like they mean to devour him.
“Please, yes, god, do it. Fuck me full and breed me up, I want it, want all of it,” Jaskier begs, clawing at the table beneath him. He’s full-on fucking himself against Geralt’s hand, riding his fingers like he’s going to die if he doesn’t. Which could happen, if Jaskier didn’t have three eager Wolves ready to fuck him until he can’t stand it anymore. “Geralt, you first, please want you first.”
Geralt pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean as he swipes his other hand through the mess between Jaskier’s cheeks. He smears it on his cock as the taste hits his tongue, a tinge of the same chemical taste buried under the familiar, earthy taste of Jaskier after he’s had a good fuck. “You shall have me, bard, as many times as you want.” With that, he grabs his cock and lines it up, smoothing the head over Jaskier’s messy hole before he pushes inside.
Fuck, but Jaskier’s so hot inside. His muscles ripple around Geralt’s cock and he mewls at the cock slowly filling him up, his entire torso lifting off the table when Geralt’s buried to the hilt. “Fuck, fuck, oh god, Geralt!” he yells, right before he comes, completely untouched. Both Eskel and Lambert immediately clamor around him, licking the mess of spend off his chest with matching rumbling purrs in their chests. Jaskier gasps and Geralt starts fucking him for real, no more teasing.
“He tastes so fucking good,” Eskel murmurs, tongue dragging across one of Jaskier’s nipples, as Lambert boldly licks a line down Jaskier’s cock. “I feel like I took that fucking potion, fuck.”
Geralt grunts and rolls his hips, pushing his cock even deeper as he fucks into Jaskier steadily. Jaskier’s own cock is still hard, still drooling precome against his belly as Geralt’s cock fills him up. He looks so good like this, Geralt can’t help the growl that’s building in his chest at how wrecked and pretty his mate looks already. “Probably...a side effect…,” he manages to say in between thrust, sharp and quick and hard enough to rock Jaskier up the table. And Jaskier just takes it, hole sloppy and loose as he whines for more, more, more. “I’ll give you more, Jaskier. As much as you can take.”
Geralt takes a moment to watch his cock slide in and out of Jaskier’s body, delighting in the way his body sucks him back in, like Jaskier is desperate to keep him there. They’ve fucked countless times but it’s never felt like this, and doesn’t want it to end. Jaskier desperate and fucked out on a normal day is glorious, but having him writhe and beg for more while squirming on his cock has got his blood up. He bends over and buries his face in Jaskier’s neck, nosing along his jawline. He can feel his teeth itching in his mouth and he wants to bite, wants to mark Jaskier up so everyone knows who he belongs to.
Jaskier must be thinking along the same lines because he moans again and nibbles Geralt’s ear as he whispers, “Please, I want you to. Mark me up.”
Fuck. With a growl, Geralt gives him another hard thrust that makes Jaskier arch back, exposing the line of his neck and Geralt can’t resist anymore. He sinks his teeth into the soft flesh and Jaskier keens again, coming a second time and this time, he manages to pull Geralt over the edge with him. He fucks Jaskier hard through it, filling him up as he tastes blood in his mouth. It’s hard to think and keeps going, keeps fucking him through another orgasm, teeth still held fast as Geralt rumbles in his chest.
He loses time, not sure how many times he comes until his cock is finally spent, his balls aching from emptying so many times. He loosens his jaw and licks along the bite as he pulls out, delighting in the way that Jaskier is still squirming beneath him. His bard is a mess, slick and come dripping out onto the table but he’s still beautifully flushed, his cock still hard against the slick skin of his belly. It has to hurt, but Jaskier looks like his cock is the least of his problems.
“More, please, it hurts, I need more, Geralt, please,” he begs prettily, writhing along the top of the table.
There’s no way Geralt’s cock is getting up again, but Lambert and Eskel are still hovering eagerly at Jaskier’s side, both of them still stinking of lust with their hard cocks in their hands. “Lambert,” Geralt says finally, motioning towards Jaskier, who’s staring up at him with glazed, pleading eyes. He makes a mental note to thank Yennefer for being at the festival. He can’t imagine what would have happened had she not brought Jaskier to him, the very idea making him want to bear his teeth and snarl. “Fuck him as much as he wants, make him come, but don’t bite him.” He punctuates his order with a growl, lips pulled back over his teeth.
Lambert rolls his eyes and gives Jaskier a cheeky nip on the chest that makes him squeak, but it’s clear that’s as far as he’s going to take it. Now, he’s only got eyes for Jaskier, licking his lips and stroking his cock as his eyes roam across the bard. “Fuck, you’re a sight. And I don’t even have to pay for it. You want it, buttercup? Want my cock in you, fucking you good and hard?”
Jaskier looks to Geralt, which makes his heart twist in his chest, but Geralt gives him a small nod and Jaskier whines, “Please, Lambert, please. It hurts, I need you.”
There’s a spike in the sea of pheromones in the air and Lambert’s pupils blow wide again. With a snarl, he lets go of his cock and grabs Jaskier by the hips, flipping him over so that his belly is pressed up against the edge of the table and his toes are touching the floor. Lambert’s dropping to his knees and spreads Jaskier wide, diving in and sucking at his hole like he’s starving for it. Lambert’s cock twitches and Geralt watches precome roll down the shaft, filthy noises filling the air as he eats Jaskier out. Jaskier is howling, clawing at the table like he’s possessed and Geralt almost wishes he hadn’t spent himself so thoroughly. But he knows Jaskier is in good hands, something warm and possessive curling in his belly at watching his pack please his mate like this.
“This fucking potion is something else,” Eskel mutters, also avidly watching Lambert take Jaskier apart so thoroughly with his tongue. He’s stroking his own cock, nearly purple and wet at the head, but Eskel is the good one, he’ll wait his turn. “I don’t see how the humans in that village could handle it.”
Geralt grunts, attention torn between his brother and what’s happening on the table. “Probably been doing it for so long, they’re used to it. Jaskier’s not. But we’ll take care of him.”
Lambert pulls back with a lewd pop and gets to his feet, draping himself along Jaskier’s back. His cock slides along the cleft of Jaskier’s ass as Lambert licks along his neck, giving him another nip that makes Geralt growl. “Relax, pretty boy. Not going to mark up your man, though it’s very tempting.” He noses along Jaskier’s throat and then looks at Geralt with wide, dark eyes. “He smells like pack,” Lambert says, smiling so that his fangs are visible.
Isn’t that a punch to the gut? Jaskier is his, but right now, he’s theirs and there’s something very thrilling to the idea. He’ll have to think more on it when they’re not all lust-addled from the potion coursing through Jaskier’s veins and his lust isn’t perfuming every inch of the great hall.
Jaskier pants and rocks his hips back, locking eyes with Geralt even as he begs Lambert to fuck him again. “You promised, please, fill me up, give me more, I need it.”
“Give him what he needs, Lambert,” Geralt commands, and Lambert, for once in his life, does exactly as he’s told.
He grips Jaskier’s hips and guides his cock inside, letting out a moan that tapers off into a growl. “How is he so fucking tight still? I watched you fuck him until your cock stopped working and he’s still gripping me like a fucking glove,” Lambert says, snapping his hips hard and pounding into Jaskier. Despite his words, he’s petting one hand along Jaskier’s back and running the thumb of his other hand along Jaskier’s hip. It’s tender, even as he’s fucking Jaskier hard against the table.
Jaskier moaning and gripping the tabletop, laying against the wood and thrusting his hips out so Lambert can get more leverage. The sounds they’re making together are more pleasing than Geralt thought they’d be, especially with the extra possessive feelings that are coursing through his veins from the potions. “How does it feel, Jaskier? Tell me,” he orders, his voice a low purr.
“Good, so good, so full, going to be so full for you,” Jaskier replies breathlessly, letting out a squeak when Lambert hits that spot deep inside of him and he comes again, splattering across the tabletop. His cock flexes, but doesn’t go down, and Lambert keeps fucking him through it. “Lambert, Lambert, Lambert!”
Lambert’s been on edge for so long, Geralt knows, that it’s no surprise at all that he’s coming after another couple of thrust, pushing up against Jaskier so hard that he rises up on his toes and wails. “Fuck, buttercup,” Lambert snarls, grinding his hips deeper as he fills Jaskier up. He doesn’t pause, keeps fucking Jaskier just like Geralt had done.
Jaskier’s practically boneless by now, just letting Lambert use him while he whines and begs for more, more, more.
After what seems like hours, Lambert thrusts one last time and kisses along Jaskier’s back and shoulders, a gentle counterpart to the way that he’d been filling him just moments ago. “You’re good, you’re so good,” he murmurs, just loud enough that Eskel and Geralt can hear before he pulls back and pats Jaskier on the ass.
If he wasn’t already a mess, he’d be one now. Jaskier’s gaping, come and slick dripping down his thighs as he pants against the table. Geralt walks over and strokes a hand through his sweaty hair, even as he sees Jaskier’s hips still humping against the table. His cock is bright red and slick with come, but it still hasn’t gone down. “Jaskier? Do you need a break?” he asks softly, but isn’t surprised when Jaskier shakes his head.
“No, still hurts, still burning. Please… can I have Eskel too?” he asks just as soft. He looks up through his hair, eyes still glazed over and his face flushed a pretty pink. He looks thoroughly debauched and they’re not finished yet.
“Of course. I told you we’d take care of you.” Eskel gets to his feet and around the table, looking at Jaskier with interest. “Eskel?” Geralt asks, wondering what he’s thinking.
Eskel looks up and meets his eyes. “I want him to ride me, but I need your help. He’s too tired to hold himself up, but he’ll look so pretty on my cock,” he says, and Geralt nods. It hits that same primal spot inside of him, that purrs at the idea of sharing Jaskier with his brothers, letting them taste what belongs so thoroughly to him.
They silently shift so that Eskel is laying with his back on the table, uncaring of the mess that’s probably smeared all over his skin. Geralt moves between his legs and hoists Jaskier up, spreading his legs and positioning him over where Eskel is holding his cock up. Slowly, Jaskier slides down, trying to bounce but worn out, so Geralt does it for him. He fucks Jaskier down onto Eskel, watching from over Jaskier’s shoulder as his body eagerly slides down onto the thick shaft. Eskel’s hand is shaking and Geralt can see him biting his lip, desperately trying to hold off until Jaskier is fully seated.
“Being so good for me, Jaskier. Good for us. Eskel’s going to give you what you need, and I’m going to be right here, holding you up so you can take what he gives you,” Geralt purrs in Jaskier’s ear, licking along the bite mark on his neck, still red and bright against his skin. He wants to sink his teeth into the skin again, drive it deeper, but he can wait. Right now, it’s Eskel’s show and he’s only here to keep Jaskier upright.
Jaskier lets out a weak little mewl and rolls his hips, cock bobbing as he moves. His skin is slick in the firelight and Geralt wants to lick him clean. They’ll all need baths, but that will come later, after Jaskier’s had his fill and the potion’s run its course. “Please,” is all he manages to say, tilting his head back and laying it against Geralt’s shoulder. His body is lax and soft, trusting Geralt to hold him and take care of him.
He’s not too proud to admit that his cock flexes at the thought of so much trust, that Jaskier is willing to give himself over to him, to them, like this. “You’re good, Jaskier. So good. Show Eskel how good you are for him.”
Eskel had been waiting patiently, fine tremors quaking across his body as he held back, but when Geralt nods, he grips Jaskier’s hips and starts to fuck up into him, sliding his cock slow and deep into Jaskier’s sloppy hole. Jaskier mewls and buries his face in Geralt’s neck, but lets Eskel take him like this.
Geralt can feel the jolts of Jaskier’s body, but his hold is steady, and he can smell just how much Jaskier is enjoying it, even if he’s too tired to fuck back. “Look at him, look at him enjoying you. He’s going to fill you up, give you more to make you full and round for us,” he murmurs, grinning when both Jaskier and Eskel let out noises at that. “How does he feel, Jaskier?”
“Thick, hot. S’good, so good,” Jaskier slurs. His cock is leaking again, full and red and probably painful, but he doesn’t bat Eskel’s hand away when he wraps his fist around it. The strokes are slow, careful, and Jaskier moans when Eskel twists his wrists on the upstroke. “Eskel, please…”
“You’re good, sound just like a pretty songbird when you come,” Eskel grunts out, driving his hips deeper. Geralt has to tighten his hold to keep Jaskier still, letting his brother chase his orgasm deep in the bard’s body. “Going to make you sing again.” He starts to alternate his thrusts and his strokes, wringing more pretty noises out of Jaskier as he fucks him.
“Close, please, make me come again,” Jaskier begs, thrashing against Geralt as he gets closer to orgasm. This close, Geralt can smell it on him, feel the way his body is shaking as Eskel’s hand speeds up. He lets out a beautiful groan as he arches back, come dripping weakly from his slit as he clenches down on Eskel. It’s barely a dribble, but the sound of relief that Jaskier lets out is beautiful. When he’s finished riding it out, Jaskier murmurs softly, “Keep going, please. Wanna feel you.”
Eskel obliges, pulling out and sliding back in with a slow, brutal pace that has Jaskier jolting up against Geralt’s chest. The bard is wrung out, but Geralt kisses him as he tries to react, to grind down deeper onto Eskel’s cock to bring him closer to the edge. “Shh, Jaskier. Let him use you. You’re doing perfect, being so good for us.” He lets go with one hand to rub across Jaskier’s belly, thumbing down along the curve of Eskel’s cock bulging it out just a bit. “Look at you, already round and full for us. Bred you up good, didn’t we?”
Jaskier gasps and Eskel lets out a growl, his pace increasing until he pulls Jaskier down on his cock, the muscles of his abdomen jerking as he comes. It’s beautiful to watch, both of them falling apart together and Geralt purrs in satisfaction.
Eskel grinds up into Jaskier’s spent body twice more before he falls back to the table, letting out a deep breath. “Is he good?” he asks, unconcerned that Jaskier is still perched on his cock as he is.
“I think so. His cock is soft, finally. And I think he’s asleep?” Geralt says, tilting Jaskier’s head to the side. He flops like a ragdoll and yes, he’s completely passed out on Geralt’s shoulder, breathing deep and even as it puffs along Geralt’s skin. “We wore him out. I’m going to take him to bed.” He wraps both arms under Jaskier’s thighs and lifts him up, smirking at the rush of come and slick that spills out of him as he does.
Eskel’s still hard cock slaps against his belly, and Geralt watches as Lambert crawls onto the table and eagerly starts licking him, moaning at the taste of all of them combined. “We’ll join you later,” Eskel pants out, carding his fingers through Lambert’s hair as he arches his hips up.
Geralt leaves them to it, sure they both could use a round or two before they settle after all of that. He carries Jaskier up the stairs and into his room, glad he had the foresight to get a fire going before he went down for dinner. It’s pleasantly warm and he lays Jaskier on the bed, grabbing a washcloth and a basin from his side table to give him a cursory clean-up. Jaskier’s still dead asleep, but that doesn’t stop Geralt from murmuring soft praises and sweet nothings to him as he swipes away the come and slick on his belly. “You were so good. I can’t believe you trusted us to do this for you, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, kissing the clean skin once before he sets the bowl aside.
He gives himself a quick clean as well before he slides under the furs and gathers Jaskier to him. Even as deeply asleep as he is, he curls into Geralt’s warmth and tucks his head under his chin with a pleased sigh. It makes Geralt’s heart do a somersault in his chest and he lets his fingers stroke along the mark he left on the side of Jaskier’s neck.
He’s dozing when he hears the door creak open, smells Eskel and Lambert as they make their way to the bed. They smell like sex and each other and Jaskier, which makes Geralt rumble in his chest. “How is he?” Eskel whispers, too quiet for Jaskier to hear, not that he stirs anyway.
“Still asleep. I think he will be for a while. Worried about him?” Geralt teases, but he’s pleased by the idea just the same.
Eskel nods, but Lambert just rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Now budge over, it’s fucking cold and I want to cuddle.” After a little bit of shifting, the four of them end up in Geralt’s bed together, curled around each other and huddled tight. Lambert and Jaskier are tangled together in the middle, with Eskel and Geralt acting as bookends with their hands joined across the two sleeping bodies in the middle. It’s perfect and Geralt has no trouble falling asleep, wrapped in the warmth and the scent of his pack swirling around him.
-END-