Work Text:
Being romantically involved with Geralt brings a lot of benefits in Jaskier’s humble opinion. The list is fairly short and it goes like this:
- He’s horny all the fucking time. And Geralt, thanks to his Witcher mutations, has a lot of stamina. It helps that his dear While Wolf is just as horny, if not hornier, as Jaskier.
- He loves cock. He loves the feel of a thick, veiny dick in his mouth, loves the taste of precome and cum, enjoys tonguing the slit and sucking the balls. Jaskier especially loves it when Geralt grips the back of his head with both hands and uses him to his pleasure, that long, thick length reaching places no other has.
- He and Geralt are not only lovers, they’re also best friends, which means they have a profound understanding of one another. Meaning that they trust each other and respect each other’s boundaries and limits. And lastly;
- He trusts Geralt to take care of him. Whether it’s a night of roughly fucking Jaskier through the mattress to fight off the effects of the potions he took, or whether it’s hours of slow lovemaking that makes Jaskier sob with overstimulation -- Geralt is always attentive to Jaskier’s needs after every session.
Which is why Jaskier isn’t surprised that when they arrive at Kaer Morhen for the winter - the third consecutive winter he’s spending with Geralt - his dear witcher broaches the topic of sharing him with his brothers.
~
“You can say no, they’ll understand,” Geralt tells him on their first night at the keep.
Jaskier smiles sweetly at him and cranes his neck to kiss Geralt’s cheek.
Silly witcher, as if Jaskier would pass up the opportunity to take not one, not even two, but three Witcher cocks. All fucking winter. It’s basically heaven on earth!
“I can, but I don’t want to,” he replies, voice rough from choking on his witcher’s dick earlier. Geralt’s eyes darken when Jaskier smirks at him. “Really, darling. The more the merrier, right?”
“Are you really sure?”
“Yes, Geralt.”
“It’s not going to be like how we fuck, Jas.”
Jaskier arches a brow, intrigued at Geralt’s slightly sheepish expression.
“If they fuck as well as you do, and I’m sure that they do, then I don’t see a problem.”
Geralt shakes his head. “Not that. When I said I’ll be sharing you with them, it means that the three of us will be fucking you. Together. We will ruin you, Jas.”
Jaskier blinks at him, his calmness belying the sudden pounding in his chest.
“Well, that’s the point of sharing, isn’t it? In fact, I can’t fucking wait to have your brothers’ cocks in me. I bet they’re just as gifted as you, if you get my drift.” Then he winks at Geralt with a salacious grin.
Geralt returns it with an unimpressed look. Then Jaskier yelps in surprise when he’s suddenly rolled onto his stomach, huge witcher hands grasping his cheeks and pulling them apart to expose Jaskier’s puffy, come-soaked hole. Jaskier makes the prettiest noises when Geralt proceeds to eat him out for the next thirty minutes.
~
Okay, so maybe Jaskier got a bit overconfident.
He meant it when he said that he couldn’t wait to get a taste of their cocks, Jaskier basically salivating at the image of him on his knees and servicing the other witchers. A shiver of pleasure runs down his spine at the thought of having his throat abused all winter long. So it’s no surprise when he was proven right that Eskel and Lambert were just as well-endowed as Geralt.
Still, nothing prepared him for the night Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert took him apart and pieced him back together.
Jaskier the Bard walked so that Jaskier the Witchers’ Whore could run.
~
As a way of ‘breaking him in’, Eskel and Lambert spend the next few days getting acquainted with Jaskier in the biblical sense.
It starts with Lambert cornering Jaskier in the halls one afternoon. He drags Jaskier into an alcove where he proceeds to test his cocksucking skills. The witcher grabs his hair in a bruising grip, one hand pressed to the wall in front of him, moving his hips languidly so as to see how far Jaskier can take him. The bard rises to the challenge. To Lambert’s utter shock, Jaskier manages to take his whole length, nose buried in the short, wiry curls on his pelvis.
Jaskier wraps his hands around his cloth-covered ass and starts bobbing his head enthusiastically. He licks a stripe down Lambert’s veiny cock, sucking his balls into his mouth before kissing his way up the length. Jaskier then takes just the tip into his mouth and sucks it, cheeks hollowing as he tongues the slit, milking the precome and moaning at the bitter taste.
Lambert lets out a loud groan and murmurs, “Fuck, fuck, how are you — fuck, just like that — so fucking good.”
Jaskier’s eyes roll back into his head when he feels the head of Lambert’s thick cock hit the back of his throat. Lambert curses up a streak and moans fuck, Geralt was right, your mouth is made for sucking cock and you take me so well, baby, you feel so fucking good. It’s Jaskier’s turn to moan, throat vibrating as Lambert tilts his head further back, grip tightening a fraction as he thrusts one, two, three, four times before he shoots thick ropes of cum down Jaskier’s abused throat.
“I’m gonna fucking breed you next time,” Lambert growls as he continues to come.
Jaskier feels his own breeches dampen, coming untouched at that proclamation, and he closes his eyes in bliss when he finally gets a taste of the brash witcher’s cum. He looks up at Lambert, teary-eyed and glazed, and makes a show of swallowing every single drop of his spend, tongue poking out to lick a drop he missed. Lambert curses and then pulls Jaskier up to his feet, only to shove him against the wall and kiss him breathless.
~
Jaskier is in the library dusting the shelves and rearranging the scholarly books to Vesemir’s preference when Eskel finds him. The quiet and kind witcher quietly shuts and locks the door behind him before striding towards Jaskier, who’s unbeknownst to the witcher’s presence until he feels strong hands grip his waist and bend him over the empty shelf.
“My brothers sing their praise of your mouth,” Eskel rumbles in Jaskier’s ear. Scarred, sweaty hands trail up the bard’s flanks before moving down to unlace his breeches and shove it down past hairy, creamy thighs. Eskel mutters a curse under his breath when he takes in Jaskier’s plump ass, still bearing the marks and bruises that Geralt left him last night. “But I want another hole of yours.”
“Please, please, fuck,” Jaskier moans, cock already swelling as he arches his back and shoves his hips to grind against Eskel’s hardened length. “Anything, you can do anything to me, just — please, fuck. Want your cock so bad.”
Eskel chuckles before he grips Jaskier’s hair and pulls back to lick and bite bruises on his throat. He nips at an earlobe, Jaskier’s surprised yelp turning into a moan when Eskel whispers in his ear. “Hmm, you’re such a slut for cock, aren’t you, pretty boy? Want me to fuck your throat raw? Want me to fuck your perfect little hole, breed you like the bitch you are?”
Jaskier’s moans echo in the spacious room, beads of precome leaking from the tip of his aching cock . “Yes yes yes! Fuck, I want everything you want to give me,” he sobs brokenly. “Please, Eskel, let me be your good boy.”
“Fuck.”
It’s a bit of blur after that. Eskel pushes Jaskier’s back so he’s bent at a ninety-degree angle on the shelf, his naked ass in full display. Eskel nudges Jaskier’s legs to spread wider before he pulls his cheeks apart.
“Fuck, you’re still wet.”
Jaskier’s hole is still loose from Geralt's cock earlier that day, the rim slightly puffy and moist. Eskel doesn’t hesitate to insert two fingers in his hole, and he sucks in a breath when the bard takes them easily. He starts to pump his fingers in and out of Jaskier, drawing out moans and pleas for more, more, more. So Eskel does, pulling out briefly to spit on his fingers and going back in with a third digit. His cock is throbbing, tight against his braies as Eskel leans forward and starts licking at the rim, groaning when he can taste Geralt’s cum. Jaskier’s thighs tremble as he sobs in his arms. Then all of a sudden, he makes a high keening noise and comes untouched when Eskel points his tongue and starts fucking into his loose hole, along with the three fingers brushing against his prostate.
Eskel finally gives in and pulls his fingers out. He fumbles to unlace his pants, quickly shoving them down past his thighs before he grasps Jaskier’s hip with one hand while the other guides his cock to the winking hole. A groan punches out of his chest when the tip of his cock moves past the ring of muscle, and he keeps pushing until he bottoms out. Jaskier whimpering and begging for Eskel to fuck him, please is a beautiful accompaniment.
He sets a fast pace, relentlessly ramming his cock into Jaskier, and his aim remains true if the bard’s sounds of pleasure is anything to go by. He’s so fucking tight after all the fucking Geralt’s done to him, and Eskel thinks he and his brothers are going to have so much fun with Jaskier. They’re going to ruin him and he’s going to be theirs.
Theirs for the taking anytime, anywhere. Whenever they fucking please.
He comes several minutes later with a loud groan, and his chest swells with pride when he hears Jaskier cry out and come untouched again. When he pulls out, Eskel turns Jaskier around and lifts him up, only to shove the bard against the shelf and kiss him breathless.
~
And just like that, Jaskier’s patience is rewarded.
It’s a week later. A week of quick blowjobs and desperate fucking. And one particular memory of Lambert ambushing Jaskier in the stables and fucking him against an empty stall.
Tonight, they’re in Geralt’s room and Jaskier is on his back in front of the blazing fire, legs spread obscenely wide and pulled up to his chest as Geralt grips the back of his knees and continues to drive his cock into Jaskier’s stretched hole in a punishing pace. The furs underneath him are already soaked with their combined spend, Geralt having cum once and Jaskier twice already. Jaskier has one hand wrapped around Lambert’s cock, the raven-haired witcher thrusting against his hand and toying with Jaskier’s nipples. Eskel is on his other side, one hand stroking Jaskier’s cock while the other strokes his sweaty hair, cooing and murmuring praises.
“You’re doing so well. You’re such a good boy, Jas.”
“You’re our good boy, aren’t you?” Lambert adds. At Jaskier’s nod, he pushes two fingers in his mouth. And Jaskier, who wants to continue being a good boy, starts sucking at Lambert’s fingers, tongue swirling around and between the digits and hollowing his cheeks like he’s sucking cock. “Fuck. You even take my fingers so well. Do you want my cock, baby?”
Jaskier moans a yes around his fingers.
He wants more, wants everything.
Above him, Geralt’s pace starts to falter. It takes another dozen thrusts before he grunts and comes inside Jaskier. Jaskier whines when he feels Geralt’s cum shoot deep inside him, thick ropes painting his insides, and the thought of getting knocked up (a filthy fantasy Jaskier recently started indulging, thanks to them) makes him moan louder.
“My turn,” Lambert announces the moment Geralt’s still half-hard cock slips out. Jaskier whimpers at the loss of fingers in his mouth, and he hears Lambert chuckle. “Don’t worry, baby. You can suck my cock later. Right now, I’m gonna breed you.”
“Fuck.” Jaskier sobs. Please.
He gets the sensation of having his body moved, and before he knows it, Jaskier is on his hands and knees. His head is shoved back, and he dutifully opens his mouth to accept Eskel’s thick length. Jaskier looks up at the witcher from underneath his lashes, cornflower blue eyes teary as he makes a show of sucking the blunt head, pulling out to tongue the slit and swallow the precome that drips from the tip.
“Oh, fuck.” Eskel’s mouth is hanging open. The scars on his handsome face look soft against the firelight, amber eyes wide in wonder and lust as Jaskier slowly takes his entire length in one go. “Fuck, your fucking mouth.”
“Told you,” Geralt quips smugly.
When Jaskier feels the blunt head hit the back of his throat, he breathes through his nose for a moment before slowly pulling away. He lifts one hand and taps Eskel’s hand, still gripping his hair. The witcher must’ve understood his meaning because he takes his other hand to grasp Jaskier’s jaw and sets a steady rhythm of fucking into Jaskier’s mouth.
Behind him, Lambert’s calloused hand tightly grasps Jaskier’s hip, the blunt head of his thick, veiny cock slowly sliding into Jaskier. He hears a deep rumble come from Lambert’s chest, and Jaskier sighs dreamily at the heavenly sensation of another enormous cock making a home in him. Lambert doesn’t wait for Jaskier to adjust to his girth, slowly pulling out until the tip remains, and then roughly thrusting back in. Jaskier’s cock twitches in interest once more, and it doesn’t take long until he’s hard and aching again.
“Oh, fuuuck,” Lambert gasps, tone blissful. “Hands down, the best hole I ever had— fuck, baby, you feel so good.”
Jaskier briefly abandons Eskel’s leaking prick to beg, “Harder! C’mon, fucking breed me, please. Wanna have your pups.”
Jaskier feels smug satisfaction when he hears all three of them groan and curse. To his left, Geralt leaves a wet trail of kisses across Jaskier’s back, hands wandering from his throat, chest, and sides until one hand moves to his ass to slap one cheek. Jaskier sucks in a breath, choking on Eskel’s cock when he feels a blunt finger tracing his swollen rim. Jaskier whimpers when he feels Geralt’s finger pushes into his fluttering hole, his heart in his throat when Geralt starts to shallowly thrust his finger in and out, the stretch burning and bordering on painful. But the discomfort eases, slowly paving the way for pleasure once more.
Jaskier has never felt more alive than in this moment, and he finds himself craving for more.
“Such a greedy hole,” Geralt comments, voice like gravel and dripping with want as he forces another finger inside him. “Bet you can take another. Would you like that, Jas? Hm? Would you like another cock in you?”
Jaskier’s eyes widened. He tries to nod around a mouthful of Eskel’s gorgeous cock, but settles for humming his approval. The vibration in his throat makes Eskel curse a long streak, hips twitching before he shoots his load down his throat, Jaskier happily swallowing every single drop. Still half-hard (honestly, bless Witcher stamina), Eskel pulls out of his reddened mouth, which allows Jaskier to turn to Geralt.
“Want it,” he gasps out, eyes bright and desperate and wanting. “Please, Geralt. Y-you and Lambert. Want you two s-splitting me open and f-filling my hole with cum— fuck, please.”
“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” Geralt says before he gently pulls his fingers out. Jaskier whines at the loss, and he nearly sobs when Lambert stops thrusting too, the witcher pulling out with a curse.
Jaskier can hear himself begging. Begging for his witchers to fill him again because he feels so fucking empty, and why is he empty? Hasn’t he been a good boy? He doesn’t realize that his head is pillowed in his arms, gentle hands running through his hair and sweaty while another set of hands holds his hips up so Jaskier doesn’t topple over. After several moments, he can make out Eskel’s soothing voice telling Jaskier that he is a good boy, that he’ll have to be patient because his reward is going to take a bit more time but it’ll be worth it.
Through lidded eyes, Jaskier is barely aware of his limbs being moved accordingly. He purrs when he feels lips pepper kisses on his face, neck, and shoulders. Three sets of huge, sword-calloused hands roam over Jaskier’s body, stroking and pinching before they lift him up. One of them spreads his knees wider than normal to accommodate the brawny figure lying beneath him. Jaskier’s purrs turn into a blissful moan when he feels a cock - Lambert’s, his mind supplies - nudge against his gaping hole before sliding back inside him.
Finally.
“Mmhm, welcome home,” Jaskier purrs, smiling dopily at Lambert who snorts and starts shallowly thrusting up into him. Eskel and Geralt choke on their laughter, but Jaskier ignores it because everything’s okay now; he no longer feels empty.
Lambert’s pace remains slow and steady for the next few minutes, but before Jaskier can start complaining, he feels slick fingers tracing his swollen rim. Jaskier hisses at the burn of having two thick fingers glide in alongside Lambert’s cock, the long digits scissoring him further. It takes several minutes before Geralt adds another finger, and it’s a testament to Geralt’s patience and attentiveness that Jaskier doesn’t feel pain at having his hole stretched wider to prepare him for another cock.
“Fuck, Jas, you take Lambert’s cock and my fingers so well,” Geralt purrs, chest rumbling. Jaskier moans, loving the feeling of his fingers spreading inside him. “You’re going to look so fucking beautiful taking our cocks, too.”
“He’s born for us to fuck and breed,” Eskel adds from where he’s on his knees in front of Jaskier. He’s hard again, one hand gripping the base of his cock as he rubs his length and balls across Jaskier’s face.
“Hhng,” Jaskier moans, tongue lolling out to lick Eskel’s balls. Then he arches his back and rolls his hips. “I’m - fuck - I’m ready. Please please please, want your cock now!”
Thankfully, Geralt deems him prepared as well, gently pulling his fingers out of Jaskier with a loud squelch. Jaskier doesn’t have to wait long, though. He can sense Geralt get into position behind him while Lambert stops moving. A hand grips one cheek and Jaskier waits with bated breath as the slick blunt head of Geralt’s cock painstakingly breaches his hole. The stretch burns and it lasts longer this time, but Jaskier grits his teeth and breathes heavily through his nose as inch by inch, he takes Geralt’s enormous cock until he’s buried to the hilt.
There’s a long moment of silence.
“Holy fuck,” Lambert chokes out, and Jaskier looks down to meet lust-filled amber eyes staring up at him in amazement. “Jaskier. Jas— fuck, baby.”
“Gorgeous,” Eskel breathes out from above.
“Ours,” Geralt growls from behind.
“Yours,” Jaskier agrees with a wanton moan. He rolls his hips, and the trio who are connected hiss in unison until Jaskier demands, “Move.”
Lambert’s hands take hold of his hips and Geralt pulls his cheeks apart. Then they start to move. It takes a few thrusts before they build a steady rhythm, Lambert pushing in as Geralt pulls back, and so on. Jaskier’s thighs tremble as they start to pound harder into him, the burning stretch already a distant memory as Jaskier pants on Eskel’s cock. His insides feel full, stretching to accommodate two thick cocks plowing into him like a fucktoy.
Jaskier chances a glance down and can’t help but gasp at the bulge he sees on his belly. Lambert adjusts his position then, bracing his feet on the fur-covered ground before he shifts his hips. The new angle brushes Jaskier’s prostate, and his cock twitches against his abs, precome dripping on Lambert’s belly. Behind him, Geralt’s grunts deepen as he also changes his angle to hit that little bundle of nerves.
It’s all so much and it’s becoming too much. Jaskier feels like he’s about to burst, and yet.
He wants more.
It takes a few attempts but eventually Jaskier manages to take the head of Eskel’s cock into his mouth, the witcher squawking in surprise. Jaskier hums before he hollows his cheeks and sucks, moving his head to swallow the rest of Eskel’s length. Like before, Eskel grips his head and snaps his hips into Jaskier’s tight, hot mouth.
“Fucking insatiable,” Eskel growls. “You’re gonna be so full of our come, pretty boy. Gonna feed you and breed you every single day. Gonna smell like us so that no one in this Continent will think you’re not ours.”
“By the time the snow melts, prepping you won’t be a problem ‘cos your hole’s gonna be so loose,” Lambert adds in between grunts.
It’s Geralt’s turn to growl, the rhythm they established long gone as his hips piston in and out of Jaskier’s gaping hole.
“He’ll be with me on the Path,” he pants, hairy chest heaving and glistening with sweat. “Gonna make sure our whore stays open for business.”
Jaskier takes his mouth off Eskel to let out a loud, broken moan, shouting, “Yes!”
Then his body convulses, breaths shallow as he clenches down on Lambert and Geralt’s cocks. His vision whitens out and he comes so hard he passes out.
When Jaskier regains consciousness, it’s to the sounds of skin slapping on abused skin and three horny witchers grunting as they chase their release. He distinguishes Eskel’s breath hitch before he groans out loud and Jaskier feels something warm splatter across his back. Lambert follows with a choked gasp, hips stilling as he paints Jaskier’s inner walls with his cum. And Geralt - wonderful, competitive, possessive Geralt - tightens his hold on Jaskier’s spread cheeks, nails digging into the meat of his reddened ass. He ruts into him once, twice, thrice and then howls before he pulls Jaskier flushed against him. Jaskier can feel thick ropes of cum join Lambert’s, their combined spend filling up his insides more.
It’s like there’s cotton in his ears and mouth, the rest of the world muffled as Jaskier’s eyes roll back into his head, saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth when it dawns on him how fucking full he feels. And he loves it.
He loves it so much that he finds himself craving for this to happen again. And again, and again.
Jaskier must’ve passed out once more because the next time he opens his eyes, he’s no longer in front of the fire. He’s curled up on his side, head pillowed on a broad, scarred chest while two pairs of hands wipe him clean of the sweat and cum. Jaskier moans, hips twitching when he feels someone gently run a warm, wet cloth between his cheeks. His ass feels sore and numb at the same time, and it’s plain to see that it’ll at least be a few days before Jaskier can request for a repeat performance.
“Such a good boy,” Eskel rumbles. “Our perfect boy.”
“No way you’re getting rid of us now,” Lambert says next. Jaskier feels a hand on his nape, followed by slightly chapped lips kissing a trail from his shoulder to his neck already littered with lovebites. “You belong to us, baby.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he hears Geralt murmur beneath him. Ah, so it’s Geralt he’s draped over. “And you did everything so perfectly. We’re so proud of you, Jas.”
Jaskier purrs and settles comfortably on Geralt’s chest. He closes his eyes and lets himself be pampered by them. After all, he’s their good boy.
It’s only a matter of counting down the days until Jaskier can feel whole again, being fed and stuffed full of his witchers’ cock and cum.