Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Jaskier steps into the Devil's Horn Tavern, he's surprised to find the place filled only with Alphas. Geralt had suggested they meet here, and knew of Jaskier's status as an Omega. The room smells overwhelmingly of Alpha musk and beer, but it was unlikely to have been a mistake.

All eyes turn towards him as he walks to bar, but Jaskier pays them no heed. A quick glance had given no sign of his pale-haired friend which meant he had time to make use of the stage he spied near the back. Geralt was often late to their rendezvous and was no stranger to arriving in the middle of one of Jaskier's sets. And it seemed today would be no different.

The heady scent of the room only gets stronger as Jaskier makes his way over to the bar. It's been a while since he's been around so many Alphas all at once and he can't help scoping out the crowd. Maybe after he's found Geralt there will be time for a little rendezvous of his own… He puts a little swagger into his step, letting the tightness of his pants accent the swell of what he knows is an amazing ass.

The bartender's eyes are clearly fixated on the bit of skin peeking out from beneath his undone doublet as he approaches and Jaskier can't help the brief flare of pride. It was always nice to see beauty being properly appreciated.

Stepping up to the bar and leaning forward to be heard over the din of conversation, Jaskier is cut off before he even begins to speak by the solid press of a body flush against his back and a gruff voice in his ear. "Well ain't you a pretty young thing. What's a ripe Omega like you doing in a place like this?"

Jaskier startles at the sudden presence, twisting beneath the pressure to face the Alpha. Once they are face to face, he only seems to press in closer, one arm on the bar to Jaskier's right, the other settling firmly on his hip.

It feels like a brand, hot and heavy. Holding him in place, with the bar at his back and this Alpha's firm chest right up against his front. It takes effort to shift his focus from the heat at his chest, from the hand on his side, from the Alpha's eyes as they rake over his face.

He's taller than Jaskier and the bard has to look up to meet his gaze. The motion bears his throat and Jaskier feels a prickle of anticipation, of fear as his captor grins at the sight.

"I am Jaskier the traveling bard, come to grace this wonderful establishment with my presence and entertainment." It's difficult to put the usual bravado behind the statement when he cannot seem to move his arms, cannot seem to look away, but Jaskier tries all the same.

"Oh I can think of plenty of ways for you to entertain us." There's a hint of a leer when he says it, and if it weren't for the slightly unsettling predatory gleam to his eyes, Jaskier might have considered the company he was clearly offering. As it was though, Jaskier didn't much enjoy the way this alpha was pinning him to the bar. The hand on his hip shifts, fingers sliding under the edge of his doublet, brushing fire along his skin. Jaskier feels the contradictory urge to flee and to lean in closer.

"I have some lovely new ballads I was hoping to try out. Could you point me to the owner?" His smile feels brittle, but it is all he has to hide his mounting panic as the Alpha still shows no sign of releasing him.

"Enough talk. I think it's time a real Alpha put you in your place, bred you and claimed you like the Omega whore you are." Ice rushes down his spine. Jaskier is no stranger to entitled Alphas, but this is another level he is unprepared to deal with. The hand on his side hasn't stopped moving, skating his skin then moving purposefully lower, grabbing his ass in one large hand and using it to pull him even closer. So close he can feel the burning steel of Alpha cock against his stomach.

The Alpha grins and his goal is unmistakable.

"Ah, I'm sorry there's seems to have been some sort of misunderstanding. I'm not a whore, I'm a bard." It is a weak argument at best and does nothing to stop the Alpha from grinding forward, rubbing the thick line of his dick against Jaskier. It feels massive.

Feels like it would fill him up well.

Jaskier blocks the thought from his head, refocuses on trying to come up with an escape plan

"Doesn't matter, all you Omega's are the same. Just a bitch to breed." The Alpha leans in even closer, the hand that was on the bar settling heavily in Jaskier's hair and tugging his head forward into the crook of his neck.

Jaskier tries to struggle, but there is nothing but solid planes of muscle and the tight grip in his hair, and then his face is touching warm skin and he is lost.

Everything he smells is calm. It's warm and settle and soothe. He takes a deep breath, tastes relax at the back of his throat and his body goes boneless between one moment and the next.

He noses in closer, opening his mouth to take in more of the scent, licking at the skin and tasting salt and then heat and desire.

Warmth courses through him, sparking embers of lust beyond his control. The hand on his ass squeezes and pulls and Jaskier can't help pushing into it. All the tension drains from his body and it's only the roaming Alpha hands holding him up.

There's a matching set of lips against his own neck, stubble scrapping shivers across the skin, teeth nipping at his scent gland. Jaskier whimpers, lets himself be pressed from chest to thigh against the solid body in front of him, barely registering as he is shuffled away from the bar. His whole world has narrowed to the Alpha in front of him and the sudden press of a second one behind him, a second mouth licking a blazing line of heat from throat to ear, a second set of hands settling firmly on his hips, a second cock, hard and insistent, grinding against his ass.

"Oh, you taste divine. Can't wait to see how you looked stretched around my cock." The words are growled directly into Jaskier's ear, the deep voice and soft breath shooting tingles of pleasure across his skin. He can't tell which voice it is, can't even tell if it's one of the two Alpha's he knows about or if it’s a third insinuating himself into the cluster.

More hands grab at his body, more than he can count or ever hope to keep track of. Distantly he hears the ripping of fabric, feels the rasp of calloused fingers on his nipples pulling violently. He thinks it should hurt, but it only sends bolts of electric pleasure to his hole -- his hole which is definitely leaking now, dripping and clenching down on nothing.

The hands don't stop, two more divest him of his pants then grab harshly at his ass to spread it, lifting him off the ground in the process. A thigh makes its way between his legs, finally giving him some relief for his hole as he grinds down on the rough leather. Distantly, he's aware of the trail of slick he is leaving as he rocks forward and backward, dragging his naked erection against the hard cock in front of him and then grinding back into the thigh and dick against his back. It's not enough.

A strong hand grabs his face, yanking his head back over the shoulder of the Alpha behind him, bearing his throat in clear submission; in forceful offering. A mouth takes immediate advantage, blunt teeth dragging across the exposed skin, raising a trial of fire and definitely leaving a mark. With his face finally removed from the Alpha's throat, fingers find their way into Jaskier's mouth, pressing too deep and tasting of sweat and cheap beer. Jaskier can only groan around them, eyes half lidded and blind to anything but flashes of hands and lips.

The number of hands on him has only seemed to increase, spreading his legs, holding his throat, rubbing forcefully at the flexing rosebud of his ass. The attention is dizzying, distracting; there is only the steady swelling pleasure centered in his core. Somewhere along the lines a cock was shoved into each of his hands, hard as steel and leaking. Jaskier can taste of desire of every Alpha in the room, can feel it blotting out every other sense until the only thought in his head is the desire to be filled beyond belief.

"I can't believe my luck that a ripe little Omega like you hasn't been claimed. It's a wonder no's ones pumped you full of cubs yet." The voice again. Or maybe it’s a new voice, Jaskier can't even think to remember if it’s whispering its filth into the same ear as before. He thinks the words should strike fear, or at least caution, but they only serve to remind him of the yawning emptiness inside himself. He groans in agreement and suckles harder at the fingers in his mouth, nearly gagging on them.

One of the hands on his ass presses into his hole, three fingers from the start. It's good, punches a choked off moan of pleasure out of Jaskier's chest, muffled by hands on his face and the groaning sounds of bodies all grinding and reaching for a piece of him.

"So fucking loose. Are you sure you're not a whore? You're certainly as lose as one." The words are punctuated by another finger stretching his ass wider, four fingers now pumping into his ass, squelching through the river of slick. Each thrust is forceful and deep, lifting his toes from the ground and pressing the fingers ever deeper.

It's good. The cock in his left hand releases, shooting come up his arm. Another set of fingers scoops it up and fills his mouth. "Omega slut." Jaskier swallows it all down, lips still spread around the hand holding his mouth open. It's hot. It shouldn't be so hot, but it is. Held up and spread open, more hands on him than he can count. Someone pinches a nipple as teeth sink into his shoulder and Jaskier can't help but moan. "This is what you were made for." This is what he was made for.

The fingers are removed from his ass, and the loss is staggering, but then finally he's being lifted onto a cock. Jaskier sinks onto it like a glove, full to the brim and stretched to his limits by the sheer girth of it. He's leaned forward and braced against the Alpha in front of him as the one behind draws back and thrusts forward with a staggering amount of force. Jaskier screams, clenching down on the sheer girth stretching him out, drunk on pleasure.

Another set of fingers press into his open mouth, slipping in alongside the couple already in there, wet with his own slick. Rubbing along his tongue, forcing him to taste it, swallow it, lest he choke. The sensations are overwhelming. Hands grip his ass, kneading and spreading his cheeks, more hands pluck at his nipples. Something hot and wet splashes on his side, feels like come dripping down his chest and Jaskier moans around fingers in his mouth. He feels used, feels wanted, it's intoxicating.

The thrusting into his ass doesn't relent, seems only encouraged by the mass of bodies on all sides. It rough and deep, a bruising grip on his hips and a punishing pace that would have Jaskier seeing stars if he could even open his eyes past the haze of pleasure. Every touch is electrifying, each strike to his prostate, every thrust grinding his cock against the body in front of him.

Time loses meaning beyond the rhythmic stretching of ass, nothing but waves of heat and sensation. At some point his legs are lifted off the floor, wrapped around waist in front of him which only serves grind his cock more forcefully with every thrust. Another splash of come hits Jaskier.

Then there's a knot splitting him open, stretching his hole even more, and Jaskier is coming, pressed in the middle of the throng of bodies, shooting his release onto the navel of the Alpha holding his weight. Everything is blinding white and heat and overwhelming pleasure, too much for his senses to handle, sparks traveling up and down his body from more places than he can count as he comes screaming around the fingers in his mouth.

His senses return slowly. It's all hazy and soft. The hands playing his body haven't stopped, rolling his nipples, pressing down on his tongue, groping his ass. Jaskier feels the heat of come being pumped into him. Sounds roar in his ears, taunts and cheers and lecherous come-ons that he can barely hear past the rushing of his own blood.

He's moved, placed belly first onto a table, cool sticky beer on his naked chest, a stark contrast to the heat behind him, inside him, still filling him up. Jaskier feels through the lust-drunk haze as the knot is gently worked out of his ass. And then, as moments later, another cock is being immediately forced in.

The fucking begins all over again and another Alpha spills over his back, coating him even further in come.

Chapter Text

Eventually, the haze of lust starts to clear. The grappling pile of bodies fighting over Jaskier thins to an orderly line to use his ass and the overwhelming smell of Alpha clears.

It's both blessing and curse. He's still drunk enough on the scent of sex to beg for each knot, but clearheaded enough to be fully conscious of his own debauchery. Sober enough to know that he shouldn't want this as much as he does, but still lost enough in the throes of pleasure and desire that he doesn't even think to fight it.

Each knot pushes him to the brink of orgasm, and the Alphas have all realized.

Teasing him with words or a hand on his cock until he comes, clenching down on them in waves.

But between each knot is the fucking, endless fucking. Thrusting deep into his body over and over, slamming into his prostate and dragging him from overstimulation deeper and deeper until he's begging all over again. 

Jaskier losses track of the number of knots he taken, the number of loads of come filling his ass. He's certain it's in the dozens now with no end in sight. Every time he thinks he's neared the end of the line, one of them decides they're ready for seconds (or thirds), decides that it wasn't enough to knot Jaskier once and pump his ass full of come, they had to do it again.

The worst though is when Jaskier can hear the sound of the door opening over the fucking and his own moans, can hear as some new Alpha stumbles into the party and gets immediately invited to join. Somehow it's worse being fucked by someone who wasn't there at the start, who didn't see that Jaskier tried to resist in the beginning. It doesn't stop them from fucking him, or shooting their load over his chest. Doesn't stop Jaskier from enjoying it.

Jaskier hears the snick of the door to the tavern opening once again and he feels his face flame. Despite thinking he was as embarrassed as he could be, the thought of some new Alpha stumbling upon this sight drags him further down into his own shame.

His eyes can barely focus through the constant pounding in his ass, but he doesn't really want to see the look on the new comers face anyway.

Then the smell hits him, horse and wood smoke and an undercurrent of pine and lightening that he would know anywhere.

"Geralt?" The question is barely a whisper, the name slipping out with a gasp. Jaskier raises his head, straining as his eyes resolve a silhouette of broad shoulders and twin sword hilts. Somehow his shame deepens further.

The Alpha hands bruising his hips dig in further and Jaskier's hands scrabble on the table for grip as the Alpha behind him starts to thrust harder, his knot beginning to swell. Jaskier's hole stretches around the intrusion, so loose by now that the knot meets almost no resistance.

And then, like a shock of cold water, the situation registers. "Geralt!" He says it louder this time, a plea and a complaint all in one. There are so many other things he wants to scream; why and stop them and more and help, but the only thing he can say is "Geralt!"

Finally, Geralt turns to look at him. His face is as blank as ever, not even a hint of surprise. It only fuels Jaskier to cry louder, uncomprehending, "GERALT!" His expression doesn't change, remains calm, unsurprised, the same expression he wears when meeting potential customers, only now it's directed at his only friend's naked body impaled on a stranger's cock and coated in come. It makes so little sense that Jaskier is momentarily frozen. He's not sure what he expected, but the way Geralt's eyes skip over him like he's a part of the décor is not it.

Geralt only tips his head in the barest semblance of a nod, "Omega."

At this acknowledgement the Alpha behind him stops, his knot nearly swollen and his hips flush against Jaskier's backside. Jaskier can't help but whimper at the sudden respite, relief and the desperate desire for more warring for his attention. Not that he has any control over the situation anyway, trapped between an Alpha stand-off as the one in his ass tries to decide if it's worth the risk to knot a Witcher's bitch.

Geralt finally meets Jaskier's eyes, impassive to the whimpers and writhing as Jaskier tries to get away and push himself farther onto the knot. "Don't stop on my account," he says and turns his back on Jaskier. All hopes of rescue melt as Jaskier watches Geralt's retreating form walking to the bar, unconcerned.

The Alpha behind him starts thrusting again, knot still half swollen, sliding wetly through the come leaking from Jaskier's hole. Even after this many knots, he can't help how good it feels, every time. He keens, filled so sweetly, his rim red and swollen from how much it's been forced to stretch, from hours split open by Alpha cocks.

Through half-lidded eyes, Jaskier watches as Geralt goes up to the bar, leaning across the wood to converse with the bartender over the sound of jeers and Jaskier's own moans that he can't stop even now. An ale is pushed across the bar surface and Geralt takes it, finally turning his attention back to Jaskier.

The cock pounding into his ass gets faster, deeper. "Are you going to come whore? Are you going to come from my knot in your ass?" The words are nothing original, variations on the same comments Jaskier has been hearing for hours, but they matter more now. It didn't bother him so much before, but now, pinned by Geralt's bright yellow stare, he feels it. Maybe if Geralt wasn't here he could forget this, pretend it was all a too-vivid dream, but now? There's no way he will ever forget this now.

Jaskier moans every time the Alpha punches inside, he can feel the knot about to catch, can feel his own orgasm rushing up to meet it and yet he can't look away from Geralt's face. He wants to look away, wants to pretend that his closest friend isn't watching him moan with every strike to his prostate, isn't going to see him come on a stranger's cock again and again and again, but he's trapped. Geralt's expression betrays nothing, but even through the haze, Jaskier can see the growing bugle in his breeches. He swallows around a moan and tries not to think about how much larger a Witcher's knot must be.

The knot in him expands, nearly trapped inside and Melitele does Jaskier want it, wants it filling him up. "Fuck you need it so bad, such a slut for a knot," the Alpha's words are accompanied by a harsh slap to ass, making Jaskier cry out in pain. "Come on beg for it, beg me to knot your Omega whore ass."

It's instinct to comply, habit after hours on this table. "Knot me, knot me please, I need your knot Alpha, fill me up," the words slurred in Jaskier's ruined voice, wrecked from moaning and screaming. He knows Geralt can hear him, Witcher senses sharp enough even with the distance and crowd. Jaskier doesn't know if that makes it better or worse.

The Alpha enjoys it though, slamming in deep and then grinding as his knot locks inside. It's still so fucking good even after all this time, surprises a dry orgasm out of Jaskier as he clenches down tight, every muscle in his body shivering with pleasure. The sheer force of it finally enough to break away from Geralt's stare. The come is hot in his ass, adding to the mess inside him, so much that his stomach feels almost taut from the sheer volume. It's intoxicating.

The waves of pleasure subside and Jaskier pants, limp on the table. Across the bar, Geralt lifts the mug of ale to his lips and downs it one smooth swallow, throat bobbing. He sets the mug back on the bar, then reaches for the drawstrings at his waist, loosening his breeches.

Jaskier gulps, swallowing around the rising dread and anticipation. Still, he can't help but want this too. Can't help but want it more keenly because this is Geralt.

He barely notices one knot slipping out, his hole fluttering uselessly around it, no longer capable of locking it inside. Notices another cock sliding smoothly in to replace it only because the Alpha immediately starts to complain, "Fucking useless slut. What's the point of a whore if his hole is this loose? Not even worth the time it takes to knot your sloppy ass." It doesn't stop him from starting to fuck Jaskier though, slapping his ass on every stroke like the pain will startle him into tightening up.

From across the bar, Geralt's voice carries with authority even in a room of other Alphas "I bet you could fit two in there." Geralt is still just looking at him, pinning him as surely as the hands on hips. A shiver runs down Jaskier's spine, anxiety and lust, he flexes his hole in anticipation and he knows the Alpha inside him feels it when he leans down to whisper right into his ear.

"You like that don't you Omega? One cock isn't good enough for you anymore, is it slut?" Jaskier from three hours ago would've argued, but that Jaskier still had shame and embarrassment. Now all he feels is a frisson of desire, every thought in his head suddenly occupied by how fucking good one knot feels and how much better two must be. He's never had two cocks in his ass, definitely never had two knots. He wants to try it. Wants to be stretched beyond belief, so loose his hole won't ever close again.

Jaskier's boneless body is manhandled up and off the table, then rearranged on top of an Alpha laying back, cock hard and pointing straight up, ready to impale him. There are hands all over him again, directing him to sink down onto the cock, come and slick gushing from his hole as he's moved. Then he's being pressed forward without warning as the Alpha below him mouths at his neck and another behind him fits his thick cock head against the rim of Jaskier's ass where it's already stretched wide and begins to push inside.

It burns. His hole is loose but not nearly loose enough for this, for the second head forcing it's way inside, no finesse, just raw strength and steady pressure until Jaskier's body has no option but open even wider. Jaskier gasps open-mouthed around the pain, moans hiccupping between sobs and whines as his breath gets caught in his throat. The Alpha doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, just holds Jaskier's hips with an iron grip and inexorably slides deeper.

Jaskier feels split open, torn apart, every sense in his body tuned to the stretch in his ass, the red feeling as his body begins to fall open, welcoming a second cock inside.

"You like this don't you Omega? You like being fucked by two Alphas, it's what you made for. Your hole is going to be so loose when we're done with you, it'll never close again." The taunts are whispered hotly in Jaskier's ear, sending shivers down his spine that only heighten his awareness of where he is being speared open. He feels his rim fluttering weakly around the pair of solid shafts, he can't even clench down on them if he tried, everything south of his nipples feels over stimulated beyond belief, entirely out of his control. His body is not his own anymore, it belongs to the two Alphas who have pinned him so thoroughly that Jaskier can't imagine ever being anywhere but on their cocks, belongs to Geralt who hasn't looked away once, who has causally removed his cock from his breeches and is slowly stroking it from root to tip.

Finally, after ages braced against the strain of taking two cocks, a second pair of hips settles behind Jaskier's ass. He feels full beyond belief, his stomach distended from the sheer volume of come already inside him plus the girth of two Alphas. It’s a heady feeling as the raw burn of the stretch starts to subside, his hole adjusting to the intrusion and accepting it.

They start to move, slow grinding thrusts that drag along the walls of Jaskier's ass, bumping across his abused prostate. It suddenly feels almost too good to bear, the pressure is so much pleasure it's almost pain, or rather maybe so much pain it's pleasure. A high thin whine escapes his throat as their pace speeds up, the friction eased by copious amounts of slick and sloppy come.

The drunk feeling from earlier returns, twice as strong, and Jaskier is nearly high off the sensation of being stretched and filled, of being exactly where he is supposed to be.

And just when Jaskier's ass is finally stretched enough to take the solid thrusts smoothly, he feels the growing bumps of two knots. His moans turn to screams, his mind lost entirely to this new stretch, his body remolded to fit this new purpose, his eyes wide and hazy, yet somehow still locked with Geralt's as he starts to stand and approach.

"Someone shut this bitch up," another deep thrust, the knots tripping across his rim in turns. Jaskier's scream turns to a high whine, entirely beyond his control.

Geralt is suddenly much closer, one hand slipping to cup the back of Jaskier's head, the scent of him invading every inch of Jaskier's senses, heightening the intensity. Geralt's eyes burn, the only point of calm amidst the rutting and increasing stretch in his ass. Three of his fingers slip smoothly into Jaskier's open mouth, cutting off a moan half-way.

And this is new. Jaskier has had fingers in his mouth, but he's never had Geralt's. Never tasted his skin like this, like his scent only stronger, rough in texture and taste. Three Witcher fingers is almost as wide as the largest dick he's ever sucked, forcing his jaw open, clearly preparing him for the monster of a cock Jaskier can't look away from.

He can see the precome welling at the tip, the head alone nearly the size of his fist. Jaskier knows where this is going, knows that the fingers in his mouth have nothing on what's coming, he's eager for it anyway. He's nearly drooling around the fingers, salivating with desire to feel the head heavy on his tongue, the thickness of the shaft stretching his mouth, and the length--

The length is going to wreck his throat.

No matter what he's been told or what he wants to believe, Jaskier's body was not made to take something so large. He wants to anyway. Jaskier wants to be split open, wants to be wrecked and remade for this alone.

He moans around the fingers, pleading with his eyes for Geralt to let him have it, straining forward to reach it, momentarily distracted by the ever swelling knots pushing him towards his body's limits.

At his own pace, Geralt relents, forcing his fingers back into Jaskier's throat before finally withdrawing them and holding his cock before Jaskier's open mouth. He doesn't give Jaskier any chance to get acquainted, just walks forward and forces Jaskier's body to open up around him.

And fuck, he's huge, pressing down on Jaskier's tongue, stretching his jaw past the point of pain, the head settling somewhere at the opening to his throat, forcing him wide open.

And when he opens his eyes, there's still another two inches between him and riot of white curls at the base.

He can't help the tears welling in his eyes from the pressure, from the immediate ache in his jaw, can’t help wanting that little bit more inside him anyway, wanting to be good for Geralt.

Geralt grabs a fistful of his hair, both hands firm on Jaskier's head as he withdraws halfway and fucks into him, forcing himself deeper down Jaskier's throat. A sharp thrust from the Alphas behind him shoves his body forward, impaling him even further until his nose is buried in white curls and Geralt is the only thing he can smell, only thing he can taste.

It's almost more than he can take, but fuck if he isn't proud too.

Everything has narrowed down to these three cocks, filling him to the brim. He's speared between them, strung out like a toy for them to use, nothing but body to fuck, a vessel for their pleasure. Jaskier is drunk with it, enveloped by lust and desire, some primal part of his soul content.

Through the haze, Jaskier feels the barest hint of a knot starting to pull at his rim. His already racing heart beats faster, caught somewhere between panic and greed.

The pressure inside him increases, one knot swelling until both Alphas behind him are grunting and swearing and then there's two knots popping in and out; always one knot inside him and one keeping his ass stretched wide. The friction is maddening, the tight clench of his hole like a vise as they fuck Jaskier with their rapidly growing knots and he knows it's coming soon, knows they're both going to be inside him soon.

He whines, hands scrabbling weakly at Geralt's thighs, some unnamed feeling crawling up his throat. It's going to destroy him. He wants it anyway. Or maybe that’s why he wants it.

He feels one knot settle inside him like a punch to the gut and he knows suddenly that this it. The second knot forces its way inside, stretching him more than he's ever been. And that's before they start to come. For once, Jaskier can't feel the burning heat of the come as it gets pumped into him, too full and hot already from the two cocks sitting like lead weights in his ass.

But he can feel the stretch in his stomach as the volume finally starts pushing for somewhere to go.

Jaskier comes, every muscle in his body locking painfully tight around the knots, instinct telling his hole to milk them for even more. His own cock dribbles weakly, already spent from hours of orgasms. Yet still the knots wring pleasure from him, forcing him to the precipice between pain and rapture again and again until every nerve in his body is alight with sensation.

And through it all, Geralt holds him steady, the tip of his cock resting at the entrance to Jaskier's throat, bumping deeper with every grinding thrust against his ass.

Jaskier drifts as he waits for the knots to go down, lulled by the warmth of Geralt in his mouth and the steady pulse of come into his ass. Geralt is still hard in his throat, with no signs of coming anytime soon.

When the first knot has shrunk enough to pull out, the sudden change in pressure is staggering. Like a dam bursting Jaskier is suddenly empty and spilling seed. But before he can do more than whimper there are large hands lifting him up and manhandling his body into a new position.

He would complain if he could. Jaskier would question and ask what's going on and whine because he feels so empty and also like he's so full of come that he'll never be empty again. He can't complain though because Geralt keeps a firm hand on his head and even as he's lifted and moved and a new Alpha gets into position underneath him, Jaskier's nose stays pressed tightly against white curls.

Then Jaskier can't complain because there are two cocks fucking into his ass in a single slick thrust and his brain becomes wholly focused on being filled.

.

.

.

It takes three more rounds of Alphas in his ass. Three more rounds of pleasure so intense that for a second Jaskier thinks he's going to pass out from the sheer intensity of it all. His ass is gaping so wide that the last pair of knots meet no resistance when they finally pop inside. He feels remade, remolded, his hole stretched so much that it will never close, feels like he will always be like this.

Then finally, when the third set of knots are pumping steadily into his ass, Geralt starts to thrust. The cock that had remained still and heavy on his tongue while pairs of Alpha forced their way into Jaskier's body finally begins to wring its own pleasure from Jaskier.

It's nearly violent, the pace Geralt sets, deeper and harder than Jaskier was expecting. Geralt buries one hand into Jaskier's hair and fucks his face with abandon. Jaskier can do nothing but open his mouth wide and focus on breathing around the girth of him.

Geralt's abnormally pale face is flushed and Jaskier likes it, likes knowing that he caused it, that even though Geralt is treating him like nothing more than a hole to use, it's still him. Jaskier moans just so Geralt can feel it on his cock, tries to swallow around his length to make it better. Looking up at Geralt's face, he's never wanted to be a good Omega as much as he does in this moment. He swallows again despite the tears pricking the corners of his eyes, just to hear the rough groan Geralt releases.

"Forget singing, this is what your throat was made for."

It's a backhanded compliment and it should sting, but then Geralt is burying himself nearly to the hilt, knot swelling just outside Jaskier's mouth, as he comes, and comes, and comes. His cock is so deep in Jaskier's throat he doesn't even need to swallow, he just feels it in his throat, in his stomach, as it settles hot and heavy with the rest of the come that's filled him from the other side.

When Geralt withdraws, it's second nature to lick his dick clean, to finally taste him. Jaskier can't help himself, basking in the barest hint of a smile on Geralt's face and the hand gently stroking his hair. Jaskier is wrung out and sated, suddenly exhausted as all the adrenaline and energy starts to fade.

"I bought you a present." Geralt's voice doesn't so much as cut through the fog so much as become a part of it. Jaskier nods sleepily. There is a distant hint of excitement and then unease, something in Geralt's tone that he can't read. Jaskier's eyes are half-lidded but there's something like eagerness or mischief on Geralt's face.

But his hands are gentle as the cocks are removed from his ass and Jaskier is rolled onto a clean span of table. The feeling of emptiness is all encompassing again, but surprisingly brief. Geralt's hands are on his ass, lifting his hips to prevent more come from slipping out. Geralt's fingers sliding smoothly into his hole. And it must be Geralt. Somehow Jaskier knows that it couldn't be anyone else.

And then just as smoothly as Geralt's fingers had entered him, they're slipping out and being replaced by something massive and hard. Solid like steel or glass and not like flesh, wider even than two knots. He can feel Witcher strength pushing it in, forcing his ass to stretch even more.

There's a high whine coming from his throat, wrecked as it is, it's too much for his body to accept. His stomach is almost cramping from the sheer amount of liquid inside him and now this plug, for surely that’s what this is, is only shoving it deeper. Even the relatively narrower neck offers no relief, it's all too big. So large that it can't not press on his prostate constantly.

Geralt only shushes him with gentle strokes along his side and soft noises as Jaskier is wrapped in a cloak dripping with Geralt's scent and lifted into his arms. The movement jostles the plug inside him and he groans. His dick is spent after hours on that table, yet the stretch still feels good. And somewhere beyond his exhaustion, Jaskier is aware that he hasn't had all of Geralt that he wants. He can't even count the number of Alpha's that have filled him, but he's keenly aware of how much he needs it to be Geralt's cock in his ass, Geralt's knot stretching him, Geralt's come making his stomach swell.

Distantly, Jaskier is aware of being carried up the stairs, of a door being shoulder open, and then of being placed on a bed. He drifts asleep to the feeling of Geralt settling behind him on the mattress, his thick cock sliding between Jaskier's thighs, and the whisper of words against his neck. "Don't worry little Omega, I'll keep you stretched and full from now on."