Archive of Our Own ^beta

The instant their horses were stabled, the game began. Jaskier finished first and dashed away, skidding through the knee deep snow as he fumbled with the key to the townhouse’s front door. He slipped the key into the lock but failed to turn it before a large, heavy body had him pinned against the cold door.

“We’re home,” Geralt growled in his ear, immediately nipping the lobe and kissing under his jaw. Eskel pressed against Jaskier’s other side, mouth busy on Jaskier’s neck.

“I know, I know,” Jaskier said, strained. “But we are not getting in bed until we’re clean.” He finally managed to turn the key and the door fell inward, nearly spilling all three of them to the floor. Their footsteps rang loudly through the silent corridors.

“We don’t need a bed, do we?” Eskel asked, his arm looped tight around Jaskier’s waist.

Geralt shook his head and said, “My first time was… hm. Jaskier was on the ground, I was in a chair. Or were we in the tub?” He unclasped his cloak, then Eskel’s, and then Jaskier’s, letting them flop carelessly to the floor. “Either way, we don’t need a bed.” Geralt started unfastening the buttons of Jaskier’s doublet, working gracefully around Eskel.

Jaskier blinked and found himself against the wall with Eskel standing between his legs, kissing him passionately while Geralt picked at the ties of Jaskier’s breeches. He couldn’t remember why he was trying to stop their frantic coupling, but he was glad they were the only people in the house.

“It’s easier when you wear skirts,” Geralt muttered. “That red one, with the slit up the side…” He hummed and licked over Jaskier’s hip bone, trying to force the tight pants down despite Jaskier’s wide stance.

“Fuck, you are—” Jaskier’s thoughts scattered once more as Geralt shoved a hand down the back of his breeches to grope his ass. He steeled himself against the onslaught and knotted his hands in Eskel’s hair, feeling how rough and greasy it was. “No,” he said firmly, tugging Eskel away from his neck. It was obvious now why he wanted them all to wait. “Bath first!”

He hitched up his breeches and ran down the corridor, Geralt and Eskel in hot pursuit. They ducked and dodged around each other, pausing to kiss and rut, leaving a trail of clothes through the empty townhouse. When Geralt reached around Eskel to open the bedroom door, Jaskier realized they had work to do beside cleaning themselves up, and he was the only one who had the fortitude to make it happen.

They rushed through starting a fire and making the bed with minimal difficulty. The bath was more challenging, as it required them to be naked and in very close proximity, but several slaps to the wrist kept Geralt and Eskel’s hands to themselves long enough to scrub. By the time they were clean and dry, the room had warmed up nicely and Jaskier’s companions had begun to fidget with nervous anticipation rather than arousal.

They’d been on the road for far too long and had maintained their collective celibacy out of respect for Eskel. He wanted to join Geralt and Jaskier in bed, which meant waiting for an actual bed according to Jaskier— other than a quick mutual wank at Kaer Morhen for old times’ sake. At long last, they were clean and safe, and there was a huge bed waiting for them. It was time.

“Before we start,” Jaskier said softly, “I want you both to know that while I would be delighted to begin Eskel’s tutelage into Naamah’s sacred arts, I would also happily fall into bed and sleep for three days.”

“Don’t make me wait,” Eskel pleaded. “I don’t think I’ve gone this long without release since I learned my cock was good for more than pissing.” Geralt chuckled, surely thinking back on his and Eskel’s years bunking together. Eskel shoved him playfully but his tone was earnest when he said, “I want whatever you both are willing to give me. I haven’t made my choice lightly.”

“And you?” Jaskier asked, turning to Geralt with one brow raised.

“Yes, Jaskier,” he growled, letting the towel drop from around his waist. “You know my answer’s yes.”

“Wonderful.” Jaskier tore his eyes away from Geralt’s nudity. “We will start in the traditional way, with a Showing,” Jaskier said. A new initiate’s dedication to Naamah’s Service was celebrated with a staged display of passionate lovemaking by experienced acolytes, with dozens in attendance and the finest food and drinks. Eskel was not becoming a Servant of Naamah, but Jaskier knew the idea of a Showing would titillate both Cassilines immensely; Eskel loved to watch, and Geralt loved being watched. Jaskier would have the difficult role of conducting. “Drag the settee over here, Eskel.”

Eskel threw the dust cover off and pulled the settee alongside the mattress while Jaskier dropped a pillow on the floor at the foot of the bed. He judged their relative positions, then nudged the pillow toward the corner closest to Eskel.

“Geralt, darling, kneel there,” Jaskier instructed. “Eskel, sit at the near end, so you can see from the side.” He combed his fingers through Geralt’s damp hair and waited for Eskel to settle.

Eskel approached and gestured at his towel before sitting. “Should I…?”

“On or off matters not to me, but don’t touch,” he told Eskel, nodding to the tent already rising beneath the fabric. “This is an informal Showing—no musicians, no wine or sweetmeats—so I’ll narrate, and you may ask questions as we go.”

Jaskier sat on the edge of the bed, legs bracketing Geralt’s broad shoulders. Daylight streamed through the drawn curtains, and Geralt’s white hair nearly glowed. “Ready, love?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt nodded, gazing at Jaskier with adoration. He licked his lips and sat on his heels, a picture of sensuality that took Jaskier’s breath away.

“We’ll begin with the languissement. Also known as a suckjob.” He said the crude term with relish, enjoying how the vulgarity made Geralt and Eskel blush. Jaskier unwrapped the towel from around his waist and left it beneath his rump to keep any stains off the bed. “Alright, show him how well-trained you are.”

Geralt rumbled deep in his chest and maintained eye contact with Jaskier as his hands slipped up Jaskier’s thighs. Jaskier leaned back obligingly so Geralt could brush his lips along Jaskier’s hip bone and nuzzle the hair on his belly.

“I love when you tease me first,” Jaskier said, darkening his voice and adding a bit of his stage presence. Geralt rubbed his cheek on Jaskier’s inner thigh and nosed up the crease of Jaskier’s leg. Geralt held Jaskier’s swelling shaft upright and dusted kisses up and down the length. "Your lips are so soft, so sweet."

He cast a glance at Eskel who was clinging to his own towel like a lifeline. His ears and cheeks were pink, and he breathed deeply, lips slightly parted. Geralt leisurely toured Jaskier’s body, and Jaskier responded encouragingly to each new sensation.

“When—” Eskel cleared his throat and started again, falling short of casual curiosity. “When do you advance?”

“When you’re both ready to,” Jaskier said. “It’s like a dance, or a battle. You’ll hone an instinct for it.” He fell silent to bask in the pleasure of Geralt’s light touches and closed mouth. “What do you think?” he asked Geralt. “Am I ready for more?”

“Hm.” Geralt fondled his balls and pumped Jaskier’s shaft a few times until precome beaded at the tip. He skimmed his plush lower lip over the droplet then turned to Eskel, angling for a kiss. Eskel licked the wetness away and then devoured Geralt’s mouth, holding Geralt close with both hands tangled in his hair. “That’s what it tastes like when he’s ready,” Geralt whispered into the space between their mouths, then twisted out of Eskel’s grasp to resume his place on the cushion.

Sizzling heat coiled in Jaskier’s gut at their passionate display, stolen directly from his deepest fantasies. He could do no more than sigh with pleasure as Geralt started flickering tiny licks from the base of Jaskier’s cock to the crown. Geralt slipped his tongue inside the foreskin, then eased the hood back so he could trace Jaskier’s slit.

Jaskier moaned then said, “Your tongue…” He hissed as Geralt lashed the delicate fold of skin at the underside of his cockhead. “Oh, it's keener than any blade. You could…” The words came out strangled as Geralt licked a broad stripe up his prick. Jaskier gasped and lost track of his thoughts, driven half-mad by the oasis of Geralt’s mouth after the long drought of their journey.

“‘He could’ what?” Eskel urged, voice nearly a growl.

“Oh, ah… he could…” Jaskier grabbed the long mass of Geralt’s hair and twisted it into a rope around his hand so he could pull Geralt away. Petulantly, Geralt stuck his tongue out, attempting to keep lapping at Jaskier’s prick. “Naughty,” Jaskier scolded teasingly. To Eskel he said, “He could find work in any of the pleasure houses of Mont Nuit.” Eskel swallowed audibly. The instant Jaskier released Geralt, he lunged forward, wrapping his lips around Jaskier’s cock. He sank down steadily until his nose was pressed to Jaskier’s stomach.

“Fuck!” Jaskier shouted, breathing raggedly, clenching his teeth against the urge to come. Eskel was not the only one aching for release. Geralt surfaced enough to breathe, giving Jaskier a few strokes, then dove back down. The heat of his mouth was intense and he kept swallowing around Jaskier, agonizingly tight.

Eskel was biting his fist when Jaskier checked on him, and his pupils were blown wide. His other hand clung to the front of the settee between his knees, fingers digging deep into the padding.

“Can— can you take it?” Jaskier asked Geralt. “If I fuck your mouth?”

Eskel cursed under his breath and Jaskier heard a seam in the upholstery pop.

Geralt hummed and guided one of Jaskier’s hands into his hair. Jaskier braced his other hand behind himself on the bed so Eskel could admire the long, rolling line of his body as he pressed between Geralt’s lips.

“Ah, love,” Jaskier said, panting. “You’re perfect. Showing off for Eskel. Soon— soon he’ll be—” Jaskier keened, hips stuttering out of rhythm. “Close. Fuck, I’m close.”

“You’re gonna finish in his mouth?” Eskel asked, somewhere between shocked and thrilled.

“Yes-yes-yes…” Jaskier’s arm buckled, and he fell flat on the bed as the waves of his climax pulsed through him and down Geralt’s throat. Geralt lifted Jaskier’s hips and guided him to keep thrusting through the aftershocks until Jaskier was whimpering with overstimulation.

“Easy, easy,” he crooned, petting Geralt’s face and hair as Geralt slowly let Jaskier’s cock slip free, suckling the whole way. Jaskier rested briefly, catching his breath before he lolled his head toward Eskel. “Ready for your turn?”

“I don’t—” Eskel’s cock was an eager red, rigid enough to have parted the overlapping ends of the towel, but he licked his scarred upper lip nervously. “I can try.”

Jaskier rolled over and crawled clumsily up the bed. He piled several pillows against the headboard and patted the space next to himself. “Come here, my wolves.”

When there was no response other than sticky noises, he looked over his shoulder and saw Eskel and Geralt tangled together. Geralt remained on his knees but Eskel had moved forward so he could grind his prick against Geralt’s chest, urgently seeking friction.

“Change of plans?” Jaskier asked dryly.

“I wanted him to taste you,” Geralt said. “C’mon.” He stood, then pulled Eskel to his feet.

Eskel followed Geralt onto the mattress, though he sat awkwardly, clenching his eyes shut and taking measured breaths. Geralt waited patiently for Eskel to calm himself, but Jaskier couldn’t bear someone appearing so uncomfortable in his bed.

“Are you alright?” Jaskier asked gently, touching Eskel’s knee.

Eskel pressed his hand over Jaskier’s. “Yes, I’m fine.” Jaskier made a questioning noise and he explained shyly, “I didn’t want it to be over so soon. I was… um, close.” He smiled self-deprecatingly.

“Would it help if you held the reins?” Jaskier asked. “You could say when to start and when to pause. Draw it out for as long as you like…” Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s torso and rested his chin on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“I wouldn’t— I don’t know what I’m doing,” Eskel protested.

Jaskier followed lines of knotted scar tissue up Geralt’s arm and said, “You know when you’re going to peak, don’t you? If you’re not ready, say ‘stop.’ Simple as that.” He shrugged, jostling Geralt.

“What about when I am ready?” Eskel asked.

“It’s considered polite to warn your bedmates before you spill,” Jaskier said. “Especially if they might catch it in the face.” Geralt huffed a laugh into Jaskier’s hair and nipped his ear.

Eskel considered the proposal for a moment longer, then nodded firmly. He lay back against the pillows, shifting them until he was satisfied.

“Oh, wait,” Jaskier said. He fetched dry towels and Eskel moved so Jaskier could spread them over the blankets. “Just in case it gets messy,” he said with a wink to make Eskel blush. “Would you pull your legs up to give us some room?”

Eskel opened his mouth and then closed it again without speaking. He tipped his feet outward, opening his knees the slightest bit.

“No need to be shy,” Jaskier said, combing through the hair on Eskel’s calf. “Let me help.” Eskel nodded, and Jaskier wedged himself between Eskel’s legs. He rested his hands on Eskel’s shins, and with gentle pressure he coaxed Eskel to raise and spread his knees, eventually bracing his feet wide on the mattress with the flexibility Jaskier had always admired in his Cassiline guardians.

Geralt slipped in beside Jaskier and touched a scar on Eskel’s inner thigh reverently. They surveyed their new territory, ripe for harvest. A long, shimmering strand of slick trickled from the tip of Eskel’s cock down to his stomach. His balls were nestled in a thatch of dark hair, and his sac tensed under their scrutiny. The plush curves of his ass were on display and the word ‘biteable’ sprung unbidden to Jaskier’s mind. As one, Geralt and Jaskier rolled onto their bellies and began mouthing down Eskel’s thighs toward the apex.

Eskel yelped and jolted at the first touch. They all froze and Jaskier raised a brow in question. “Ticklish,” Eskel admitted.

“Is that so?” Jaskier asked. Without waiting for a response, he dove down and playfully nibbled the crease of Eskel’s hip while Geralt’s fingers danced behind Eskel’s knee. They tussled briefly like youths, shouting and laughing all the while, until Geralt pinned Eskel’s hips and Jaskier ducked between Geralt’s arms to run his tongue up Eskel’s length.

Eskel cried out wordlessly and dropped his hands to fist in the blankets. “Warn a man, will you?” he barked.

“Oops,” Jaskier teased unrepentantly.

Eskel regained his composure and pushed himself back up to lean on the mound of pillows. “Alright. I’ve had a mouth on my dick. It’s done,” he said, more to himself than to Jaskier and Geralt. He relaxed his shoulders and let his legs fall open even wider than before. “You may proceed with the languissement, gentlemen,” he declared, gesturing at himself as if presenting a feast.

They descended upon him hungrily. Jaskier had given Eskel control of the pace, and he trusted Eskel to curb them if he so desired. Geralt’s pale hand supported the base of Eskel’s prick and Jaskier swirled his tongue around the tip, lapping up the first taste of Eskel’s excitement. Eskel moaned as Geralt joined him, mouths open and wet around Eskel’s cockhead. Another dribble of fluid burst warm over their tongues. Eager for more, Jaskier cupped Eskel’s sac and then curled his fingers around to massage his knuckles encouragingly on his perineum.

“S-stop!” Eskel gritted. He bit hard on his bottom lip, scars pulling his expression into a predatory snarl.

Jaskier’s prick throbbed valiantly in renewed lust, but he retreated, nudging Geralt into obedience as well.

When Eskel allowed them to continue, they switched to long, luxurious licks until Eskel was no longer rigid with tension. “That’s… fuck, it feels so good,” he said with almost comical disbelief. Jaskier made eye contact with Eskel while dragging his tongue from base to tip. Eskel forcefully exhaled, then pushed the hair off his own forehead with the back of his wrist. “Give me more.”

Jaskier was happy to oblige. He took the plump head of Eskel’s cock into his mouth and sucked lightly while Geralt scattered wet kisses over Eskel’s sac.

“Stop,” Eskel ordered, more sure of himself than before. He was not on edge again so soon, he was only testing their response. Jaskier hid a smile, pleased that he had read the signs correctly: it was in Eskel’s nature to command.

Geralt stole one last taste of Eskel before withdrawing to await permission. He was restless, grinding against Jaskier’s side impatiently and digging his fingers into the blankets.

“Again,” Eskel said.

Geralt pushed past Jaskier and swallowed Eskel down with a moan, silvery hair cascading around Eskel’s hips like a waterfall. Jaskier relinquished his spot in exchange for a better view of Eskel’s undoing, anticipating that no matter how much willpower Eskel had, his inexperienced body would soon succumb to the ferocity of Geralt’s desire.

Eskel planted his feet flat so he could thrust roughly into Geralt’s mouth, groaning with near-agony. “Stop,” Eskel said after too short a time, dropping back to the bed.

Geralt shoved himself away from Eskel and tackled Jaskier. He set teeth to Jaskier’s neck, sucking hard enough that his sharp canines pricked the skin. Jaskier writhed under the sudden attack, unprepared to be the target of Geralt’s fervor. Geralt bit a path down Jaskier’s chest and stomach, so absorbed in getting to Jaskier’s lap that he missed Eskel’s request for more.

Eskel’s cock was dark and blood-hot, and Jaskier wasted no time twisting from under Geralt’s weight so he could let it glide over his tongue and down his throat. He wasn’t able to hold his breath quite as long as a Cassiline, but his mouth was far more practiced than Geralt’s. Eskel cursed and clamped his thighs tight around Jaskier’s head, legs blocking Geralt’s attempts to cut in. Jaskier felt the pulse of Eskel’s impending climax before it crested, and he locked eyes on Eskel’s face. A look of pure rapture crossed Eskel’s rough features as seed gushed into Jaskier’s mouth. He continued milking ever more salty-bitter spend from Eskel, but he was stuffed so full of Eskel’s thick shaft that he couldn’t swallow all he was given. It overflowed, spilling between his lips to spatter Eskel’s belly with pearly ropes.

Geralt held his own hair back while he cleaned Eskel, tongue flirting against Jaskier’s lips where they were still stretched around Eskel’s cock. Jaskier saw Eskel’s lips move, saying something to Geralt, but Eskel’s muscular legs blocked all sounds from reaching him. He wiggled his shoulders until Eskel got the hint and released his hold. Jaskier could only gasp a single breath before Eskel dragged him in for a searing kiss.

“Air,” he panted. “Us mortals need to breathe.” Jaskier pushed away from Eskel’s chest with both hands and flopped against the headboard beside him, simmering with exhausted delight.

Eskel was loose and lazy, sprawled across the bed without a care in the world. Geralt, in contrast, was wound tight as a bowstring, fisting his own cock furiously and growling through bared teeth.

“Here,” Jaskier said. “You’ve been so patient.” He opened his arms for Geralt, but Eskel intercepted him, gripping Geralt’s ivory hips firmly and arranging him until Geralt straddled Eskel’s ribs.

“How will I learn without practice? Kneel up,” Eskel said, shuffling down the mattress. He wet his lips and the underside of his tongue grazed Geralt’s leaking prick.

Geralt dug the fingers of both hands into Eskel’s shoulders and cried out, balls drawing up tight to the base of his cock, flushed with blood. “Eskel,” he said, voice quaking with need.

Eskel’s mouth closed around a generous measure of Geralt’s length, and he sucked, cheeks pulling in. Geralt jolted as though struck. Eskel hummed in annoyance when air escaped through the notch in his upper lip. He tried again, and Jaskier watched the muscles of his jaw flex beneath the skin. Geralt bucked twice, helplessly, instinctively, before he regained control of himself, but it was too late. The ridge of his cockhead popped free of Eskel’s lips and that friction was enough to send him over the edge. Thick ribbons of come unfurled across Eskel’s cheek and jaw.

“Fuck,” Geralt groaned, letting his head fall forward against the wall with a dull thud. The muscles of his belly shuddered with aftershocks, and his seed dripped down Eskel’s neck.

“Wow. Impressive,” Jaskier said. Geralt shoved Jaskier over so he could bury his head in the pillows, hiding his beet red face. “Wait, don’t be embarrassed, my love! It’s a compliment to Eskel that you peaked so soon. He’ll have to share his tricks with me.” Jaskier rooted Geralt out of his burrow and wrapped both arms around him. He could feel the heat of Geralt’s blush against his chest.

“Is it?” Eskel asked, doubtful. He tentatively ran a finger through the mess on his chin and tasted it.

Geralt’s eyes roved across Eskel’s face, where the shining evidence of his ecstasy adorned the ragged furrows. “What?” Geralt asked, but he didn’t wait for a response. He flung himself on top of Eskel and kissed him like it was the first time or the last time, though it was neither. “A compliment?” He shook his head and laughed, hands cupping the nape of Eskel’s neck, thumbs stroking his jawline. Softly, Geralt said, “It’s because I love you.”