Archive of Our Own ^beta

Before he met Geralt, Jaskier never much cared for kinky sex.

To be fair, he was barely eighteen at the time and had only ever had sex with people his own age and none of them seemed very inclined to experiment- they were just happy to be fucking at all and Jaskier supposed he felt the same.

And then Geralt came into his life in a bustle of leather and motorcycle oil and all but swept him off his feet with his sexy grunting and even sexier glare, and suddenly it was like Jaskier was transported into another world.

Sex was still a novelty to him at the time, new and fun and exciting, but Geralt tipped all that on its head and Jaskier realised rather quickly that he'd not even scratched the surface of what sex could be and Geralt seemed all too happy to lead him into the depths and teach him everything he knew.

Normal sex was never on the menu in Geralt's bed, and toys and games were just the beginning. Handcuffs, gags, and chokers all became the norm as Geralt taught him how to suck a dick properly and how to take one as well. He showed him how a little pain with his pleasure could be a good thing and how to ask for what he wanted without fear of punishment or ridicule- assured him his wants and fantasies were nothing to be ashamed of until Jaskier himself could do nothing but believe it.

He taught him what it felt like to be so in love with someone that the very thought of being without them hurt like a physical wound. And while Jaskier had always fallen in and out of love at the drop of a hat, something about how he felt with Geralt was different.

In previous relationships, short and fleeting as they might have been, he'd always known there was an expiry date. He'd still loved them- even that bastard Valdo- but they weren't ever going to last longer than a handful of months at the best, as teenage relationships were known to do, and he understood that.

But Geralt.

He was different.

Jaskier was different with him.

He'd never cheated on a partner before but he couldn't deny that his eyes wandered at times. He was only human and a teenager at that, so it wasn't like he could be blamed for having lewd thoughts when faced with the array of people he seen and met on a daily basis.

He figured that was how it would always be with him, or at least until his hormones chilled out and stopped giving him boners at the slightest gust of wind.

But he was wrong. The second he laid eyes on Geralt in all his grumpy glory, all thoughts of any others fled his mind. He'd expected them to come back- that he'd eventually get used to the mans beauty and find his gaze straying once more, but it never happened and Jaskier couldn't say he wasn't pleased by that fact.

Geralt was absolutely the man of his dreams, and he never wanted to even think of another person in his bed again- especially when the man had introduced him to so much and taught him all the wonderful little pleasures one could bring with a bit of rope and some toys.

Jaskier was all too happy to live out his days with Geralt. To follow where he led and play his games, and be confident in the ability to use his safeword whenever he felt the need, knowing without a doubt that absolutely everything would stop at once should he do so.

Which was another thing Geralt taught him- to trust, both in himself and in Geralt. And he did, more than anyone else in the world. He trusted Geralt with his life and, more importantly, with his heart, and Jaskier knew Geralt felt the same. Their relationship might have started off as a casual thing, an older man taking a younger under his wing to teach him all about the wonders of sex and bondage, but it spiralled into something more before either of them could catch it- they grew closer, more attached.

They fell in love.

Real love.

Within a year of their meeting they'd moved in together into a little two bedroom cottage about an hour from the city on a quiet street that backed a small woodland park, and got engaged. Jaskier made friends with the neighbours while Geralt did his best to stifle his immediate reaction to glower at anything and everything that moved. They fixed the leaky roof and brought the garden back to life with wild flowers and other natives that needed little to no care to thrive in the environment, and they made quick work of transforming the second bedroom into their dream playroom.

And then they got a dog.

Brutus was a rescue- still only a pup when they got him, but rapidly growing into his paws and ears. He was a mastiff cross of some sort, too big for his brains and too cute for his own good with big doleful brown eyes and a dark speckled tan and black coat.

Jaskier loved the mutt the moment he laid eyes on him, and while he'd not looked at another human in lust since meeting Geralt, he couldn't deny that something about the dog called to him, and he supposed it was only natural that they'd fall into bed together at some point, especially with Geralt's blessing of the whole affair. Brutus quickly became another part of their relationship, not so much an equal, but not a prop or a toy either. He was their boy and they loved him, and having him join in on their playtime was as natural as breathing to the two of them.

Which led to now, with Jaskier on his knees, cuffed and collared and locked down to the rings Geralt had screwed into the newly polished hardwood floor of their playroom. His legs were spread and secured to more rings at the knee and ankle, his arse in the air, and a leather ring cinched tight around his cock. His arms were pulled down beneath his chest which, along with his cheek, was taking the entire weight of his upper body as he blinked sluggishly into the mirror set up across from him.

Playtime always brought about an easy relaxation that he could never seem to achieve with anything else. They hadn't even done anything yet and he felt soft and boneless, slipping so easily into that head-space that Geralt had praised him so strongly for the first time he'd managed it, months into their games. It seemed so hard at the time, impossible even to stop thinking and just feel and experience like he was urged to, but now it was as easy as breathing to let all his worries and fears wash away and relax into the bonds holding him so snugly.

He can see Geralt through the mirror, naked and shuffling around behind him, pulling lube and whatever else he needed from the drawers near the door. Brutus is sat next to him, staring intently at where Jaskier's bound and almost vibrating with excitement- he looks ready to pounce but dares not make a move without Geralt's say so.

No doubt he was a fast learner and in the eight or so months they'd had him, they'd taught him well. He knows his role in their relationship as well as Jaskier knows his own, and follows his orders and instructions without a hitch- Geralt is the Alpha of the household and Jaskier is his bitch, but if Brutus was good, he got to join in and take his turn and Brutus was always good.

The drawer closes with a soft click and Geralt slips out of the reflection for a moment, leaving Brutus sitting alone before there's a quiet command of 'come' and the dog disappears, too, the door shutting quietly behind them. Jaskier has no idea what his fiancé has in mind for their playtime today, but he's more than content to wait and see, relaxed and silent in this place on the floor.

And he doesn't even have to wait long. After five minutes or so they return, slipping back through the door which is then closed and locked behind them, and then the fun really begins.

Geralt brings Brutus to the space between Jaskier and the mirror, sinking down onto his knees as he does so. Brutus doesn't follow him down like Jaskier half expects him to, but instead turns to present to his Alpha, lifting his tail up and to the side like he'd been taught to do in the beginning of all this, and Jaskier watches with rapt attention as Geralt instantly grips the mastiff by his hips and sinks face-first into his hole without a seconds hesitation.

And oh- that explains where they'd gone off to, then, because rimming a dog is all well and good, but he has to be clean first or its just gross.

Wriggling on the spot, Brutus stretches his front legs out to lift his rump higher at the attention while Geralt noses and presses soft wet kisses to his hole in a way Jaskier is all too familiar with. He keeps at it for a long moment, almost luxuriating in the action, but eventually switches from kissing to licking, swirling the very tip of his tongue over the tight furl and slicking it up. His broad chest shudders with a moan and his hands tighten on Brutus hips as the dog, clearly enjoying the treatment, pushes back into the touch eagerly.

The tip of his tail starts to wags gently as Geralt begins to firm his strokes, his jaw shifting wider to give him move space to really get at it the way they both know the dog likes.

And it works. He huffs and pants, wiggling his hips into the action like the overly eager pup he is, while Jaskier can do nothing but watch in growing arousal as Geralt groans and pushes in deeper. He starts to prod at him, coaxing with short jabs and wiggles to get him to relax and open up to it, and it's an action Jaskier knows well with the amount of times it's been done to him.

Geralt gets off on eating arse. Jaskier hadn't ever thought that was a thing, but it clearly is and he's not sure why he was even surprised by the fact, really. There's a power in it- reducing your partner to tears and begging just with your tongue- and it gets Geralt going like nothing else does.

He always starts slow and gentle, kissing and sucking at Jaskier's rim to get it loose and relaxed before his own arousal starts to become too much to ignore and he buries in deeper and starts to nudge and prod at the hole to force it to open to his demands.

He does the exact same thing with Brutus and Jaskier can tell the second it gives, too, because Brutus startles just so and Geralt groans thick and deep in his chest as his tongue finally pushes past the resistance and disappears into the dogs tailhole.

Geralt really gets into it after that, fucking his tongue inside with short, sharp jabs and breathing heavily into the fur surrounding the tight pink hole. Brutus's back legs tighten and straighten, lifting him higher as he's worked over. His head and tail twitch and jerk, but not once does he make a move to pull away.

He's used to it by now- likes it even, if the way he pants and wiggles back into it is any indication- and he seems to almost melt as Geralt digs even deeper and starts to pull him back onto the thrusts. Jaskier can't see much, but he can hear the slick, wet noises they make as they slide together.

The hot red tip of the dogs cock peaks from his sheath and slowly starts to emerge as Geralt makes out with his hole, lengthening quickly as his arousal grows.

Jaskier himself adores getting his arse eaten, ever since the first time Geralt did it to him, and the man is a God with his tongue, so he knows exactly what the dog's feeling as he's reamed.

He licks his lips, twitching and tugging subconsciously at his bindings as he watches. Geralt sucks and slurps, digging his fingers into the thin brown fur on Brutus's hips while his tongue digs into his hole.

His own hole twitches in sympathy, his tongue aching to be where Geralt's is.

It had disgusted him at first- the thought of putting his mouth anywhere near an animals arsehole was utterly revolting and he'd been so close to using his safeword and calling quits to the whole thing the moment it was suggested, but Geralt had helped him through it. They cleaned him before hand, fingered him nice and loose and got him excited for the whole thing, and Jaskier quickly found that it wasn't nearly as disgusting as he'd thought.

He tastes like Geralt does- like skin and soap and something that's undeniably musky but not unclean. His fur and the weight of his tail only adds to the pleasure, and Jaskier had adored watching through the mirror as the dog fucked into his clear fleshlight while he ate him out.

The memory makes his bound cock twitch, his stomach swooping with arousal.

The last time they'd brought the toy into play Jaskier had been situated under Brutus's belly, suckling at the open tip and drinking down everything the mastiff had to give as Geralt fucked him from behind. Watching his knot stretch the clear material had been its own kind of pleasure, and Jaskier still thinks about the way the pup had whined and panted as spilled.

“Fuck,” he whines suddenly, quite and weak and unable to bite it back, “Fuck, babe, please I want-”

Geralt slides is gaze to him, eyes blown black with lust. He pulls back slowly, letting Brutus feel the drag of his tongue as he leaves his hole, and licks his lips. Spit paints his chin and neck slick, dripping down through his stubble and making a filthy mess of his chest hair.

Jaskier wants to fucking lick him clean.

“Please,” he whines again, a touch louder.

“Do you think you deserve a say in how I fuck our dog?” Geralt rumbles, voice deep and thick with arousal, “You're not in charge here, sweetheart, or do you forget?”

“No, sir, no, I-” he isn't a brat, isn't one for speaking back or arguing during their games, but- “I want to eat him out. Please, I-”

“Quiet,” he orders, “one more word and I'll gag you,”

Jaskier's mouth snaps shut.

Geralt watches him for a long moment before turning his attention back on Brutus with a disgruntled noise, running his hands up the dogs hips and over his flanks. Jaskier expects him to return to eating him out, force him to watch as Brutus is fucked and sucked at while Jaskier wishes and imagines he were the one buried tongue deep in their pet.

Geralt loves to torture him, and it's a technique he'd used before so they both knew it worked.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he pulls a bottle of lube from behind him and slicks his fingers before snapping it shut and dropping it once more. Jaskier watches with bated breath and an aching cock as he brings them up and immediately slips one straight to the knuckle inside the dog.

Brutus makes no complaint, taking the digit as easily and agreeably as he'd taken the tongue-fucking. His hole opens around the probing without protest as one finger quickly become two and then three as Geralt works to open him up and get him slick.

The first time they'd done it this way, Brutus had been a little uneasy, twisting and dancing on his back feet as Jaskier used his smaller fingers to stretch him out. They went one at a time, taking a couple of days to allow him to get used the alien feeling before adding another finger while Brutus slowly relaxed into the action until the dog could take four of them easily and comfortably and without panic. By the time they deemed him ready for cock, Brutus was basically presenting to them like a bitch whenever he smelt lube, twisting his twitching tail up and to the side to show off his begging hole, and then looking over his shoulder at them in what could only be called annoyance when they took too long to react.

“He's as much of a cock slut as you,” Geralt had rumbled amusedly, watching how the dog panted and wriggled as Jaskier fucked him open on his fingers. He'd slipped up behind him, running his own fingers over the stretched-white rim before pushing the tip of one inside. Brutus barely reacted past a shuffle of his hips, pressing back into the touch like he wanted more, and Geralt chuckled, breathing into Jaskier's ear as he slipped his free hand down to cup him through his sweats and squeeze. “You think he's ready for the real thing?”

Jaskier can remember how he froze, knuckle deep in the dogs tailhole and brain devoid of blood as it all rushed straight to his cock.

That night will go down as one of the best in his life, no matter what else might happen in the years to come. Sinking inside the sweet clutch of their dogs hole was indescribable- overwhelming like so many things Geralt had been the catalyst of, and Jaskier had barely managed to get his cock to the base before a came, creaming the canines hole full.

Geralt made him clean up his mess afterwards, sucking and scooping his spunk out with his tongue after it bubbled out to make a mess of his balls. Brutus helped him by squatting like he was doing his business, expelling the rest of the cum in a rush that ran down Jaskier's chin and throat before he could catch it.

It was absolutely the most filthy thing he'd ever done in his entire life, and he'd fucking loved every second of it.

Brutus whines suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts and to the present. Geralt, who'd just slipped his fingers from the dog's arsehole, huffs a laugh and rubs his clean hand over the dog's stomach as he twists at the neck to blink dolefully at him. Brutus hunches at the touch, fucking forward a few times before Geralt stills him with another laugh.

“I know, baby,” he says, voice as sweet as it'd be if he were soothing Jaskier, “You've been so patient, haven't you,”

Brutus whines again, turning to nose at Geralt's cheek and licking some of the mess from his chin. Geralt guides him higher with gentle hands, opening his mouth and letting the dog lick inside while drool and slobber instantly start to drip down between them.

Kissing Brutus, as with everything to do with him, is a weird mix of alien and not. His tongue is too big and rough and he can't really kiss so much as lick, but at the same time it;s as intimate and familiar as kissing anyone else. The slide of tongues, the bump of teeth. The only major difference, he supposed, is that humans don't tend to taste like dog-food when you kiss them, but disgustingly, he doesn't seem to mind that all too much when they're in the midst of things.

Neither does Geralt, clearly, and Jaskier can't help his own needy whine as the man groans and pulls the dog closer, giving back as good as he gets.

Brutus lets it go on for a while, licking into his humans mouth with vigour as his cock twitches and grows. It isn't until he humps forward again, a jet of pre spurting from his cock and hitting Geralt's thigh, that they finally pull apart, both of them panting heavily.

Geralt growls as they parted, face flushed and sloppy wet.

“Fuck,”

His cock is almost purple at the head when he shifts enough for Jaskier to see it, twitching and leaking like a tap, pre drooling down the shaft and making a mess of the thick of grey curls at its base.

Geralt moves as if to grip himself but stutters to a stop barely centimetres from actually doing so, hand trembling and hovering in mid-air for a second before forming a tight fist and dropping to his thigh, right by the spurt of dog cum. He bites his lip, eyes clenching shut as his stomach quivers and his cock jumps violently.

Jaskier whimpers, forcing his own eyes shut against the image.

Watching Geralt fight not to cum from just fingering and making out with Brutus is hell on his endurance and his cock burns with sympathy, drooling into the healthy puddle already pooling beneath him.

There were many times since they'd bought the house that he'd been thankful for the hardwood floors, and every single one had to do with how easy it was to clean cum, piss, and lube from their smooth surface, and today is no different.

Clean up is a bitch at the best of times, but it's made marginally better by the lack of carpet.

“Fuck,” Geralt growls again, panting almost as loud as Brutus in the silence of the room, “Fucking Christ, that was close.”

Jaskier whimpers, unable to stop the way his hips jump at the words. Brutus echoes him weakly.

“Alright, alright,” there's a scuffle of sound, the floors creaking and a pop of joints, before the tap of nails and a sharp bark join it. Jaskier still doesn't open his eyes, not even when he feels a hand on his arse or the probe of a finger in his hole. He grinds his teeth and keeps his eyes shut tight until Geralt slaps him, quick and sharp and hard enough to leave his arsecheek burning.

He chokes on a gasp, eyes snapping open and instantly seeking Geralt's through the mirror.

“Eyes on me,” he demands firmly, digging his thumb into the centre of the sting hard enough to make Jaskier's eyes roll in his head. Geralt spanks him again, even harder. “Eyes on me,”

A shock of cold lube hits his hole and makes him gasp and wince, but he doesn't dare break eye contact again. His arse-cheek is burning already and he isn't sure he'd handle another hit if Geralt decided to go harder.

“Hn,”

His eyes threaten to roll and flutter closed as a thick finger runs through the mess of slick and delves inside. It retreats just as quickly, collecting more lube before returning again, screwing in deep and filling his hole with slick.

Occasionally, Geralt likes to make him hook his fingers inside and hold himself open so he can just squeeze the cold lube straight into his arse, but with Jaskier cuffed to the floor there isn't enough hands to make that happen so he does it the old fashioned way.

He continues on like that for a few moments longer, using only the one finger to stretch him and get him wet before suddenly pulling back. He shifts out of the way, sitting back on his heels and nodding Brutus over.

“Go on,” he tells him, “Mount the bitch,”

Jaskier's stomach twists. He isn't- that's all the stretching he's going to get? One finger? Geralt had been cutting down how much he stretched him for the last couple of weeks or so, but he still gave him at least two before letting Brutus have him- the dogs knot is the size of a fist and it hurts even after four fingers and an hour of play!

There's no fucking way he can take the dog with what basically amounts to no stretch at all, but clearly he was going to have to try.

Jaskier whimpers, fear and excitement warring inside him.

He wants to try and fuck if there isn't something incredibly fucked up in his brain for him to think that.

His hips shake as Brutus steps up to him, so much taller than Jaskier is on his knees, but the dog ducks his head instead of mounting him. He only gets a single swipe of his tongue across Jaskier's balls and hole before Geralt taps him on the snout, pulling him back.

“No,” he tells him, “he doesn't deserve that. He's been bad today,”

Jaskier would have cried if it hadn't meant Geralt would spank him again. If Geralt isn't going to stretch him, the least he could do is let Brutus use his tongue to do it.

The dog whines a little, ears shrinking back, but Geralt soothes him with a long pat over his head and down his neck.

“Not you,” he says, voice going soft and sweet, “You've been a good boy, haven't you, Brutus. Always such a good boy,” the 'unlike Jaskier' is silent but it rings in his ears nonetheless.

The need to close his eyes, to look away from the soft scene before him is almost too much to bare, but he forces himself not to- forces himself to keep his eyes open and on Geralt just as he'd been told to do. He watches as Geralt soothes the dog with gentle pats and sweet words he can't quite hear, watches as he squirts a generous amount of lube in his palm and coats Brutus's already juicy slick cock with it.

“Come on, baby,” Geralt urges after letting the dog fuck his fist a few times, “You want the real thing, don't you? Want to get your cock in our bitch and knot him up good and tight,”

Jaskier and Brutus whine at the same time- Jaskier at the words and the promise, and Brutus no doubt at the loss of Geralt's slow fondling.

“Mount,”

He does.

The weight of such a large creature climbing up over his back is something that never fails to force the breath from his lungs. Brutus isn't even fully grown yet but already weighs over thirteen stone- Jaskier himself only weighs around ten. Geralt weighs close to the same as the dog, but he never puts all his weight on him the way Brutus does when they fuck, laying his thick chest and belly up over Jaskier's back and resting there while he pounds away.

Jaskier's cheek aches with the added weight as the dog clambers into position, paws coming around to claw at his sides and belly, catching on the meaty corner of his thighs as he gets comfortable. His cock digs sharp and wet at him as Brutus tries to find his hole, humping forward as he mounts up, instinct and arousal pulling at him until Geralt stills him with two firm hands on his hips. The dog whines, but stops his humping, waiting impatiently for the go ahead from his master.

“Soon, baby,” Geralt soothes, moving to slip in behind him. His cock hang between his thighs, too heavy to lift itself and purple with blood and arousal. He releases Brutus with one hand, moving it down to grip and slick himself as he shuffles closer until Jaskier can just barely see the thick head of him press into the space under Brutus's lifted tail.

The dog whines, his claws biting into Jaskier's sides as Geralt forges on, carving the dog open on his cock in one tortuously slow push. Brutus startles sharply when head disappears inside his passage, his hips fucking forward on instinct before Geralt stills them again.

“There we go. Good boy, Brutus,”

The dog trembles, whines- he dances on his toes and pushes back into Geralt's grip to take his cock deeper.

Neither Geralt nor Jaskier can hold back the groan that escapes them as he takes him to the root, tail twitching in a weak wag against Geralt's stomach as the man sinks inside and seats himself deep in the mastiffs guts.

“Fuck,” Geralt growls, giving a few weak thrusts that are more or less just a grind, his head dropping back, mouth slack. “Fuck, he's always so fucking tight,”

Jaskier knows all too well just how true that statement is.

His cock twitches again, spurting pre into the puddle between his legs. Brutus's cock shoot a jet up his back, his hips trembling.

“Christ, alright,” Geralt mumbles to himself when the dog starts whining in earnest, but the second his hand closes around the shocking red of the mastiffs cock, Brutus can't hold back any longer. He fucks forward like the animal he is, chasing his release in Geralt's fist instead of Jaskier's hole and Geralt swears again as the movement has Brutus fucking himself back on his cock.

The dog pants, tongue hanging from his mouth and dripping drool between Jaskier's shoulder blades to mix with the burning jets of pre shooting up his back.

Geralt scrambles around behind him to get a firm grip of the dogs cock, angling it down toward Jaskier's waiting hole.

Jaskier sobs, raising his hips higher as the thrusts glance off his hole and send the sharp tip of Brutus's cock into his tender balls. Gasping and aching, Jaskier tries with what little movement he's allowed to get the dog inside him- to finally fill his needy bitch-hole like he so needs.

“Christ,” Geralt spits again, still trying to stop the dog from humping and failing miserably. He grabs his hip tight, rising up tall and pushing in until he has Brutus pinned against Jaskier's back, still humping away weakly and rubbing his dripping cock between the seam of his cheeks.

Using the hand he has around Brutus's cock, he aims him properly, dragging him up on a backwards thrust and helping him find his mark.

Pain shoots up his spine and Jaskier screams when Brutus finally drives into him in two quick shoves. His toes curl, his hands scrambling against the hold of the cuffs as the dog stabs into him faster than Geralt has ever managed, forcing his hole open around his substantial girth.

Everything is always too much with Brutus. Too fast, too sharp. It's overwhelming at the best of times, let alone with little prep, but fuck if that isn't exactly the reason Jaskier loves it so fucking much.

Not knowing whether his eyes are watering and shaking due to pain or pleasure- whether the screams and cries that escape his lips are begs for more or for it all to stop.

It made him feel helpless- like a real bitch, just there to take cock and bare pups and its exactly what he needs to twist that pain into pleasure.

Brutus isn't as long as Geralt, but he still fucks deep- pushing right into Jaskier's stomach, and forcing him to take everything he has to give. It hurts, an ache deep in his belly where the sharp tip of the dogs cock bruises him, but gods did it feel so fucking good too. His cock is so slick and smooth, rubbing so sweetly over his walls and hole as he fucks him, his short fur tickling against sensitive skin and his heavy stud balls swinging.

Jaskier adores every bit of it. Mourns and craves it when he's left gaped and dripping after a thorough knotting.

“Fucking, yes,” Geralt's voice comes through, rough and fucked out.

Jaskier forces his eyes to focus, blinking away the tears still burning in them to watch as Geralt throws his head back, white hair flying and sweat dripping down his chest as he allows the dog to fuck himself back and forth on his cock without help.

Jaskier's own cock burns in its binds.

“Ge-ralt,”

Gold eyes lock on his through the mirror, wild and frantic.

“P-Please,”

He growls, upper lip lifting into a snarl to show off the sharp points of his canines as he drops forward over Brutus, covering him like the dog covers Jaskier. Strong hands fall to his hips, gripping tight above where Brutus's claws dig in as he finally join in on the fucking.

Geralt always fucks like he has something to prove, and it;s no different with Brutus. He holds tight almost to the point pain, fucking into their dog like he was the animal- rough and vicious, rearing up to bite at the back of the mastiff's neck as he basically fucks Jaskier through him.

Geralt's rough fucking drives Brutus into him harder, the tapered tip of his cock striking sharp into his prostrate with every wild thrust. Already he can feel the base swelling, stretching his bitch-hole wider and wider every time it's fucked inside, and Jaskier's cock aches with the knowledge that it will soon be too big to leave- it'll lock up inside him and fill him to the point of pain and he won't even have the breath to beg for more.

“Look at you,” Geralt rumbles, watching him whimper and drool through the reflection of the mirror. Jaskier's face burns at the image he makes, but he can't help it- it feel too fucking good. “both my boys being such good bitches. Always take cock so fucking easy, huh, sweetheart- you and Brutus.”

Brutus knot is big enough to make an audible popping sound as it fucked in and out now, and Jaskier's eyes roll in his head at the feeling of it, a heavy groan pulling from his chest.

“Look at me,” Geralt orders, pinching painfully as his side until he forces his eyes to focus once more. Geralt looks wild, hair hanging a mess over his shoulders, sweat running rivers down his chest as he fucks their dog roughly into him, “Keep your eyes on me, bitch. I won't tell you again,”

Jaskier bites his lip almost to bleeding to keep from agreeing- he's spoken far too much tonight without permission already and he doesn't want Geralt to punish him even more. He nods to show he understands, and forces himself to keep eye-contact as he's ploughed roughly into the floor.

“Tell me how it feels,” Geralt growls, eyes daring him to disagree- to refuse, “Tell me how much you love having our dog fuck you like a bitch in heat.”

“I love it,” he gasps, whining low in his throat as Brutus's knot sticks on a thrust for a split second before pulling free. He lifts his arse higher, trying to get him to lock properly, as his thighs tremble and words spill from his mouth. He isn't one to refuse speaking and now that he has permission, the words come without thought or reason. “I do, I do, I-”

Geralt laughs lowly, “Look at you trying to get him to knot your cunt,” he rumbles, watching with dark amused eyes as Jaskier writhes and twitches in his hold, “So hungry for it- never happy unless you've got a gut full of doggy cum to warm you, huh, sweetheart?”

Jaskier whines, shaking his head, “Never- n-need it so bad,”

“I know you do,” his broad chest heaves with the exertion it took to keep up with Brutus's animalistic fucking, his breath heavy as he spoke, “Such a whore for your doggy,”

“I'm a whore,” he agrees on a whine, nodding quickly, “Fuck- I-I'm a whore, Daddy,”

He's too dumb and fuck drunk to even realise what he's just said until Geralt groans like he's been shot and doubles down in his fucking, driving into Brutus so hard that Jaskier's teeth clack with the force.

“Fuuuck-” he growls, “Say it again, sweetheart- fucking call me Daddy,”

“Daddy, D- oh f-fuck, Daddy,”

“Feel good? You like it when Daddy fucks you on a thick doggy cock?”

“Yes,” he whines, “yes, yes, I- nghh, I-I love it, Daddy. I- f-fuck, I love it s-so much,”

Geralt's nails bite into his sides as he fucks forward even harder, forcing Brutus to conform to his rhythm for a handful of thrusts. His voice is harsh, but his face is utterly revered as he growls: “Whore,”

Brutus whines at the strength of the thrusts, his back feet dancing as he takes a stuttering step back, driving himself down harder on Geralt's cock, which in turn made the mans own thrusts stutter and fumble.

He groans, eyes and jaw clenching, fingers twitching where they dig into Jaskier's sides.

“F-Fucking Christ, he- fuck, he feels so fucking good,”

And if he wasn't currently getting fucked six ways to Sunday, Jaskier might have shot back that maybe Geralt is the whore- Jaskier loves Brutus's cock, true, but Geralt is the one that fucked the dog like he never wants his hole to go tight again. If he was in the mood to be punished, he might have even brought up that given the choice, Geralt would probably rather fuck Brutus than him- whether because he's tighter or it;s the thrill of how utterly fucking filthy wrong the whole thing is, Jaskier has no idea, but he has no doubts that it's true.

Maybe he should feel jealous about that- coming second to a fucking dog in the bedroom should be utterly mortifying, but if anything it only makes him harder, makes him gasp and whine and push back onto Brutus's cock because he feels the same.

He loves Geralt with all his heart, more than anyone or anything else in his life. He's going to marry him and spend the rest of his life with him and he fucking adores his cock- but he can't deny that having their dogs cock in him gives him an extra thrill that he just can't get with anything else he and his fiancé do.

“'m close,” Geralt grunts, “fuck, I'm so fucking close, baby,”

Jaskier whimpers and then mewls, writhing violently in his bonds when he realises Geralt isn't talking to him- he isn't baby. Brutus is baby. And Geralt is talking to the dog and ignoring him and fuck if something about that doesn't make Jaskier's cock jump and ache. If it wasn't for the ring holding it off, he'd have cum right then and there.

“Oh?” Geralt rumbles, leaning in a little closer to push Brutus's stomach down over his back as peers at him through the mirror, eyes glassy, “You close too, sweetheart? Need to cum?”

Jaskier nods frantically. Brutus is moments away from knotting fully, Jaskier's arsehole burning with every thrust and grind as it's forced wider and wider, made to take everything the mastiff gives him. He wants to cum, to clench around that knot as it flares fully and locks in him, breeding him full with so much cum he bloats with it.

“Words, sweetheart,”

“Need it,” he chokes, “need to cum so bad, Daddy- I- fuck, I ne-eed it,”

“Hm,” Geralt hums, tilting his head, never breaking in his rhythm as he fucks Brutus violently. He watches for a long moment as Jaskier gasps and jerks in his binds, before saying, rather off handedly: “No,”

Jaskier almost screams when the next thrust sends Brutus scrambling for a tighter grip on his sides, his claws raking through soft skin and no doubt drawing blood. Geralt's shifted into a crouch, planting his feet firmly and he starts fucking the dog harder, driving into him like he was a toy instead of a living creature. He grunts, growls, fucks like an animal with no regard for his partner, his brutish cock driving in harder and faster, making Brutus yelp and whine and fuck Jaskier harder in turn.

It doesn't take Brutus long to knot after that.

He gives a deep growl that quickly tapers off into a sharp whine, his feet dancing almost violently as he grinds himself inside Jaskier's hot clutch, knot locked and buried deep. He keeps whining as he comes, filling his bitch to the brim with his hot watery seed.

Geralt groans, dropping his head on Brutus's back as he gives a handful more merciless thrusts, his cock squelching audibly in the quiet before he too stills and cums, cock shoved to the hilt in the dogs arsehole. He makes a sound like he's been stabbed as he did so- harsh and grunting and almost pained- and then falls back into heaving pants as he fights to catch his breath.

And for a long moment, Jaskier is left to tremble and bite back tears as he's filled.

He need to cum.

His cock feels like it's about to burst and he has no doubt that if it hadn't been for ring around it, he'd have cum when Brutus knotted him. He was standing on the edge of a cliff, weak and wired, looking to dive into the crashing waves beneath and drown in their strength.

Shivers brake out across his skin, his breath shivering across his lips as he bites back pleads.

It seems to take hours before Geralt turns his attention on him- hours where Jaskier shake and whimpers as Brutus's knot pulses in him in the echo of his own cock. Hours where Geralt stays inside the mastiff as he pants, grinding long and deep as he comes down from the orgasm he denies Jaskier so cruelly.

Then, just on the precipice of Jaskier cracking and breaking down to beg for his fiancé to let him cum- Geralt shifts. He rumbles, reaching down and around to fondle gently at Jaskier's burning cock, who, in turn, jackknifes so hard he almost tears Brutus knot from his hole with the force.

The dog yelps, stuttering forward with him to stay inside.

Geralt chuckles, taking him in hand and giving a few long pumps that make Jaskier's hips shake and spasm- but he still doesn't remove the ring.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” he asks, faux worry being drowned out by the amusement he can't keep from colouring his voice as he gives another agonising pull, stopping to tease his fingers over the sensitive head, “Can't cum?”

“Ngnnn,”

He chuckles again, “Don't be like that,” he says, “You've been so chatty today- can't spare a few more words to ask nicely? Come on, sweetheart, tell Daddy what you need,”

“Please,” he chokes, feeling seconds from wording, “I need it- Please, Daddy, please, I-I-”

He bites back a sob, fucking forward into the hand around him and tugging harshly at Brutus's knot once more.

“Use your words, sweetheart,”

“Cum!” he sobs, “I need to cum! Daddy, please, it hurts, it-”

Lettenhove.

The words burn in his throat, begging and fighting to be released, to put a stop to this agony and give him relief- and they almost win. His tongue is in the first stages of forming the word before it chokes and dies as the ring around his cock snaps open and he's suddenly cumming so hard his eyes go dark with the force of it.

Orgasms with Geralt are nearly always almost painful in their intensity- ever since the first time when he fucked him over a rubbish bin in the alleyway behind the bar they'd just met in, Jaskier's wig hanging askew on his head and his dressed hiked up around his waist to bare his arse for cock.

Jaskier came so hard that night he actually passed out. Though that might have been from him slipping while in the midst of it and bashing his head into the corner of the bin rather than the actual orgasm, but still.

He got a concussion and a couple of stitches, and later a small scar, to show for the effort, but he wouldn't change it for the world- if it hadn't happened, Geralt might have just fucked him and left and they never would have seen each other again. Instead, because Jaskier came so hard he knocked himself out, Geralt had stayed with him and even carried him to the hospital a couple of blocks away where he woke up with a killer headache, an arse full of cum, and a grumpy boyfriend at his side.

No orgasm would beat that one given its relevance to their relationship, but this one still knocks him down and leaves his chest aching with its force.

He vaguely feels Brutus startle over him, tugging back as his knot's gripped and squeezed by Jaskier's hole. Geralt pushes him back, holding him there with his hips as Jaskier gasps and shakes through his orgasm.

Brutus whines, humping forward weakly, but doesn't make an attempt to free himself again until, after the shivering and chills have calmed down, Geralt makes to remove himself from their mating.

Jaskier can hear it when his cock pulls free, even over the rushing of blood in his ears. A filthy wet slurping noise and a bubble of liquid hitting the floorboards before it cuts off with another, quieter squelch and a pop. Brutus humps forward a bit for a second before making use of the space behind him and slipping from Jaskier's back, twisting around so they're arse to arse like he would with a real bitch.

Jaskier groans and shivers, hole mouthing weakly at the knot spearing it open.

He doesn't have the energy to react when he hears Geralt shuffling around to the spot by his head, nor even when he feels him tugging and fiddling with the buckle locking his collar to the floor.

Geralt always stays hard for a while after he cums- long enough that he can usually manage to fuck Jaskier into another orgasm before he goes soft if Jaskier is particularly sensitive. Mostly, though, he uses it for the express ability to fuck Jaskier's face until he's clean and soft.

The buckle comes free with a snap and Jaskier opens his mouth without Geralt having to say a word. The head paints his lips with the remnants of his orgasm before pushing past onto his tongue, sliding over the muscle and pushing deep.

Jaskier sighes through his nose, relaxing into the familiar act.

The first time Geralt had made him do it, he'd almost vomited. It was too disgusting to even think about- sucking a cock that had just been in his own arse was one thing, but after it had been inside a dog? It wasn't even like sucking cum from the mastiff's hole after he'd been filled.

That cock had fucked in to the root, deeper than fingers and tongues could reach, and that was just something else and he couldn't bring himself to do it for weeks after they brought Brutus into their bed for real, not until Geralt held him down after he himself had finished fucking the dog and sucked him clean to show him just how good it could be.

The sight of it, of knowing what they'd just done and where his cock had been before Geralt put it in his mouth was... Jaskier almost got hard again just at the knowledge and he'd not been able to keep himself from pulling his fiancé into a filthy kiss afterwards, sucking on his tongue to chase the taste left there.

The next time Geralt pulled his cock from Brutus's hole after a thorough fuck season, he'd been on his knees with his mouth open and ready before Geralt had even looked to him.

Now it's routine, and Jaskier wouldn't have it any other way.

“Mmm, feels good,” Geralt rumbles, running a hand through Jaskier's sweaty hair and pushing it from his face. Jaskier blinks his eyes open, ignoring the tears that swell in them the deeper Geralt pushes. “Taste nice, sweetheart? Comfortable?”

Jaskier hums in agreement.

“Always take his cock so well, sweetheart,” he murmurs, patting him, “You like it, huh? Like having his juicy doggy cock in your bitch-hole, breeding you good and fat with his pups?”

Gods yes and fuck how Jaskier wishes for that to be true- for Brutus's seed to take and grow in him, force him to swell round with its bounty. He wants to feel his belly roll with the kicks of their pups, for his tits to get fat and heavy with milk so he can nurse them strong and healthy.

He can't answer with his mouth so utterly occupied, so he just nods as he slurps weakly at Geralt's cock.

“Hm,” he smirks, pressing a hand to Jaskier's cheek and thrusting deeper. He doesn't stop, even as Jaskier chokes and gags around him, “You like this, too, huh, sweetheart. Love sucking Daddy's cock after he's finished fucking dog hole.”

Moaning, Jaskier takes him deeper, nodding as much as he can manage with Geralt's hand holding his head in place.

“Mm, fuck,” he murmurs, letting his head drop back and show off the strong line of his throat. Jaskier wants to bite it- to see it bulge with cock the way his own is doing, “you're so fucking good with your mouth. Make me want to cum again,”

Jaskier almost wants to beg for him to- wants him to fuck his mouth as hard and deep as he wanted until he cums again, to use him like a fuck-toy the way their dog did- but all too soon the cock in his mouth starts to soften. He chases it for a moment, sucking harder and digging his tongue under the foreskin to get every bit of left over cum from its creases before Geralt becomes too over sensitive and pulls him off with a quiet hiss.

The whimper that escapes him is pathetically needy, but Geralt doesn't tease him for it. Instead, he shushes him, stroking his face and wiping away the tears that spill down his cheek with his thumbs.

The need to be held in those arms is strong and Jaskier is almost overwhelmed by the sudden want to be free. To be unlocked just so he can do just that- curl up and be cuddled close until his thighs stop shaking and his brain comes back online.

He doesn't, though. Their game isn't over yet and he isn't one to call things off early unless he really felt the need to.

He wants to be held in Geralt's arms and soothed, but it isn't to the point yet that he needs it.

Geralt, as if sensing his feelings, shushes him again. Soothing a hand over his cheek to settle him, he leans in to press a kiss to his forehead, so light Jaskier barely even feels it. But it does it's job. A shuddering sigh leaves him, his mind going soft and quiet once more, and he relaxes back into the binds.

Priscilla, his friend, had asked once what it felt like after after one of their games and Jaskier hadn't exactly known how to explain.

It was like floating, he'd managed after a long moment of contemplation. Like everything around you disappeared and you were left to drift through a pool of soft, quiet pleasure. To bask in the feeling without worry or care.

Priscilla had thought about it for a moment before nodding and replying “so, kind of like being high, then,”

And, not knowing how to explain how that didn't even come close to what it was, Jaskier had just agreed.

Now, though, he supposes she was right. It is very sort of a little bit like being high. Only more intense and tiring because he's just cum his brain out and he can't move because he's cuffed to the floor and has a dog knotted in his arsehole.

He gives a delirious little giggle.

Imagine if he told her that. She'd be horrified and disgusted and no doubt cut all contact with him and call the police, but for some reason he can't contain his mirth at the expression he's sure she'd pull. They've known each other their whole lives and Priss always had the most over the top expression of disgust that never failed to set him off into hysterics no matter the situation.

Which- obviously that includes when he's just been fucked halfway into a coma, apparently.

Geralt, who's used to his reactions to their games by now, just sighs fondly and continues to pat him, running his fingers through his hair and soothing him.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “just relax,”

And Jaskier, who isn't one to go against such sweet orders, does exactly as he's told.

How long he stays like that, he doesn't know. It changes from day to day and he's never cared to try and figure it out or document it- he's content just to let it take him and go along with the ride, and not have to think too deeply into it all.

Sometimes he comes to already in bed, clean and cuddled into Geralt's chest. Other times he wakes in the bath or on the way there.

But with Brutus in the mix, it's a little different. His knot usually lasts half an hour or so, and more often than not, Jaskier comes around while the dog's still inside him, and today's no different.

The tugging itself is what brings him out of the float. Sluggish and slow, Jaskier blinks as he drags himself out of the thickness clouding his brain.

Geralt, who's now laying out beside him and stroking his face and sides, gentles him down from his muddlement with soft words and even softer kisses to his cheek and forehead.

Behind him, Brutus shifts and pulls, the movement making Jaskier shudder and whine as his knot stretches his tender hole. Geralt shifts up onto his knees to get a hand on his lower back, his other going to Brutus' flank.

“Alright, sweetheart, you know how to do it,” he murmurs, stroking him gently as Brutus continues to shift and shuffle, testing the hold on his knot. “Bare down. You know his knots too big to free itself,”

Which- is unfortunately true. Brutus is too eager and excitable and never likes to be still for too long, even when he's knot deep in a bitch.

Gritting his teeth, Jaskier locks his thighs as well as he can manage with how weak they are and, the next time Brutus tugs forward, he pushed. It still takes a couple of tries but after a long moment that never fails to conjure imagines of childbirth and an almost too strong pull, the knot pops free.

Jaskier cries out as it leaves him, his hole screaming at the stretch. Cum sprays from him with the force, spilling down his taint and thighs, dripping from his aching balls to pool on the floor with his own mess.

Brutus quickly comes around by his face, tail wagging happily. His cock's still out, bright red and spurting weakly in the cold air, knot shrunken but still a substantial bulge at its base.

Jaskier's hole aches with its removal, and he can't help the hungry whimper that escapes him at the sight of it. How that thing ever managed to fit inside his arse is beyond him, let alone the fact that it had been bigger. It always amazes him that something the size of Geralt's fist can fit up his arse without tearing him, and there's always that panic that maybe one day it would- tear him open and leave him bleeding and in need of medical intervention, and what would they even say? They can't very well tell them it was because their dogs knot was too large, could they.

Not without having the cops called on them, anyway. That thoughts not as funny when it's not accompanied by Priscilla's horrified expression.

He's too fuck drunk to actually feel any panic about the thoughts but Geralt obviously catches on to them. He strokes his face, bringing him out of his spiralling mind and back to the present.

“Shh,” he hushes again, and Jaskier leans into the touch, begging without words, “you're alright, sweetheart,”

He manages a weak noise of assent. His anxiety got the best of him sometimes, but deep down he knows he's always alright so long as he's with Geralt.

Geralt, who he loves and adores. Geralt, who treats him like a whore and toy and the absolute most important thing in his entire life.

Geralt, who's leaning over him to get at the buckles holding him down and has the absolute most amazing tits Jaskier has ever seen in his entire life- strong and heavy and bigger than most women, dusted with grey and black hair and peaked with tight pink nipples.

Jaskier has spent hours nursing on them before, cuddled into his fiancé's chest and wrapped tight in his arms, sucking so slow and leisurely at his tits that he'd fallen asleep like that. It hadn't even been a sexual thing, but he'd been mortified when he woke hours later, still in Geralt's arms and dripping drool down his chest like a child.

It hadn't stopped him from doing it again, though. And again. And again. And- he really shouldn't have been so surprised about the sudden Daddy kink, now that he thinks about it.

He loves Geralt's tits almost as much as he loves the man himself, and if he had the energy and the means to, he'd have lifted his head and dragged his teeth over their sweet peaks when the man leans over him to fiddle with the numerous straps and buckles holding him down.

The buckle he's working on comes free with a click and Geralt makes quick work of the others until the cuffs around Jaskier's wrists and ankles go slack. Hands pull him around, rolling him onto his back and placing his head carefully on a thin cushion while he blinks dazedly up at the clean white ceiling that Geralt refuses to let him put glow in the dark stars on. His arse is directly in the puddle of cum which is uncomfortably cool by now, but he doesn't put up any protest. He doesn't have the energy for it, anyway, let alone the words.

Geralt's face appears above him, soft and sweet, hair a mess and hanging loose over his shoulders as he gazes down at him.

“Hey there, sweetheart,”

Jaskier hums, slow and relaxed.

“Feeling alright?”

“'m great,” he manages on a weak murmur, lips cracking into a small, easy smile. He wiggles sluggishly, luxuriating in the weight of seed inside him, “feel full,”

“Yeah?” his fiancé rumbles, stroking his hands down the thick hair carpeting Jaskier's chest and back up again, soothing him, “sloppy full of hot doggy cum, huh,”

“Mm, yeah,” he moans, stretching out enough to slide his hands over the ones rubbing the length of his chest, encircling the their strong wrists just to be touching. His hole twitches, spilling another gush of watery cum into the puddle under his arse. “so full, Daddy,”

Geralt's bright eyes flash, his hands tightening on Jaskier's chest for a second before he forces them to relax.

“That's new,” he rasps, “you.. is that something you.. something you'd like to explore?”

“Yeah,”

“Okay. We-” he clears his throat, cheeks going a little pink, “We can..we can do that,”

And oh, but he's always so sweet when he blushes. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, Jaskier feels himself fall in love all over again at the sight.

He hums again, unable to form a reply, but he doesn't have to. Brutus pushes his way between them, whining sharp and high and drawing their attention.

Geralt clears his throat again, turning has gaze away and freeing one hand to scratch under the mastiffs neck.

“Hey, handsome,” he greets with an easy grin, “You feelin' good, baby?”

Brutus whines again, shuffling awkwardly on the spot and hunching a little every few seconds before straightening again.

Jaskier hums, holding his hands out weakly to cox him closer.

He know exactly whats wrong, and wants more than anything to make it better.

“Mm, wan'it,”

Geralt looks back at him.

“You sure?” he murmurs, brushing Jaskier's fringe from his eyes sweetly, “I can take him to the bathroom and clean him if you're done for the night,”

“Noo,” he whines, uncaring of how petulant he may sound, wiggling his fingers, “Daddy, please- want it,”

“Christ,” he swears, “Alright, alright. Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Brutus is quick to shuffle over with Geralt's command, coming to a stop next to where Jaskier lay before pale hands guide him around to stand above him, his back legs encompassing Jaskier's head. His juicy cock is still hanging from it's sheath, knot barely swollen at its base now but still twitching out weak bursts of cum that drip into Jaskier's hair and down his face.

He moans weakly, reaching out to grip the mastiffs hips and urge him a little more forward until he's where he wants him.

“Ready?” Geralt asks him, stroking down Brutus's back with one hand while he takes a hold of Jaskier's with his free one.

“Mhmm,”

Geralt nods, giving him a quick squeeze, and orders; “Brutus, squat.”

The dog follows his masters command without complaint. His back hunches, tail lifting. His legs bend, dropping him down into a squat that brings his balls and cock to rest across Jaskier's face.

Geralt reaches around to the dogs tailhole quickly, fiddling with something as if he were fingering him again. Brutus whines and hunches down further and, with a pop, Geralt removes the plug he'd put in him to keep his cum inside for this very moment.

The moan that escapes Jaskier as a rush of hot cum and lube squirt from the dogs hole is absolutely filthy. He digs the top of his head into the pillow, raising the lower half of his face higher to catch the next spray in his open mouth, his tongue straining to reach the fucked wide gape.

Brutus's cock leaves a wet trail across his face as he expels the waste Geralt left in his bowels, his legs shaking with the effort to keep him hovered above the bitch's hungry mouth. The muscles under Jaskier's hands strain and flex as he pushes to clear his guts and by the time he's done, wet hole still clenching weakly around the tongue spearing it, Jaskier is an absolute mess.

Cum, lube, and drool are smeared across his mouth and cheeks, dripping down his chin and throat. His hair's soaked with sweat and even more cum, sticking to his forehead in a wet tangle that will definitely need washed before he goes to bed.

He feels fucked out and filthy and utterly fucking fantastic.

Geralt's hands cup his face as Brutus wanders away, content to find somewhere to lay and wait the rest of his knot out now that he isn't full of his owners cum and doesn't have a plug shoved up his arse.

“Hey,” he coaxes gently, thumbing away a splatter of cum that's slowly making its way down Jaskier's cheek and heading for his ear. “Hey, sweetheart, you still doing good?”

Jaskier murmurs positively, parting his lips and taking Geralt's thumb in his mouth on its next pass. The mix of cum and salty skin on his tongue makes him moan, and he gladly sticks his tongue out for Geralt to wipe off the rest of the cum he cleans from his face, catching it and sliding it down for him to take.

Jaskier swallows it all down with pleasure, chasing him when he pulls away for good. There's still cum on his chin, he can feel it and- Geralt shushes him when he whines his disapproval, soothing a hand over his cheek to settle him as he leans in and scoops it up on his own tongue. Jaskier moans as that tongue then slides into his mouth and tangles with his own.

He clutches at Geralt with weak arms, hands and nails struggling to find purchase on his sweat slick skin. Geralt groans, licking deeper and sucking at Jaskier's tongue when there's nothing left to pass back and force.

“F-fuck,” he growls when he breaks away, spit and cum webbing them together and making their lips slick with it.

Jaskier agrees, licking his lips to catch anything they missed and then frowning sadly when he realises there's nothing left.

Geralt watches him with dark eyes, and then groans, pressing their foreheads together.

“Fuck, I love you,” he rasps, “I love you so fucking much,”

Jaskier will never tire of hearing those words, but the events of the day are catching up to him and he can't stifle the heavy yawn that cracks his jaw.

“love you, too,” he still manages to mumble, weak and slow as it might be.

He see Geralt smile before his eyes becomes too heavy for him and drift shut of their own accord.

“Sleep,” comes the murmured reply, “I'll draw a bath for you, sweetheart.”

“can't bath.. s'too tired,”

In the back of his mind he knows he won't have to bathe himself because Geralt always bathes him after a session, but that thought is dark and far away and Jaskier is too tired to scramble for it.

Geralt laughs quietly at his petulant tone, “Go to sleep, my love,”

And, with hands cupping and stroking his face and the press of soft lips to his forehead, Jaskier is all too happy to comply.

He'll sleep. And maybe, if he's lucky, Geralt will wake him in a couple of hours to do it all over again.