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Stress Relief

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“Hey, Lambert?”

He knew Jaskier was there, and had been ignoring him. Even at the sound of his name, Lambert doesn’t look up, keeping his attention fixed on the powder he’s mixing. “What?”

“Are you, um…”

Jaskier can see he’s busy. Lambert doesn’t understand why he’s hovering. “Geralt’s in the library.”

“I know,” Jaskier says, and then takes a step into Lambert’s workshop. It makes Lambert pause, taking closer note of the bard. “I’m looking for slightly different company right now.”

Lambert scoffs at him. “Did you two fall out?”


With a huff, knowing he won’t get peace until this conversation is closed – and that Jaskier has frightening conversational powers when he wants to talk – Lambert sets his work aside. “Then wh—?”

He hadn’t noticed, because he hadn’t looked directly at Jaskier before, but the bard is flushed, colour rising rather nicely in his cheeks. He smells warm, too warm, like arousal and needs, and it makes Lambert wonder if the answer was a lie and that the two did manage to fall out.

But, then again, he hasn’t caught Geralt’s scent on him. Jaskier doesn’t smell like sex. He hasn’t smelled of sex in all the time since he’d arrived with Geralt.

“What do you want?” he makes himself bite out, because now that the thought has crossed his mind, it won’t leave. It’s annoying. If Jaskier doesn’t want what Lambert thinks he wants, he’s going to be in a sour mood, and Geralt will pay, because this is his fault. How has he not bedded Jaskier yet? The bard practically begs him for it with every breath he takes in Geralt’s presence.

“Oh, you know,” Jaskier says, and his lightness seems a little forced. He steps forward again, into Lambert’s space, and Lambert lets him rest a hand against his chest. “A little stress relief.”

Lambert hisses a curse beneath his breath.

“If you’re amenable?”

Yeah, Lambert is fucking amenable. His prick is already hardening, but he hesitates. “Aren’t you and Geralt a thing?”

“No,” Jaskier breathes, leaning in even closer, angling his head just so and making it very, very difficult for Lambert not to close the distance and kiss him.

“But you want to fuck him.”

Jaskier smirks, his eyes falling half closed as he presses his weight against Lambert. “I want to fuck most people.” His lips brush against Lambert’s, and his whole body shudders as Jaskier pulls away to whisper his next words: “And that includes you.”

Fuck it.

He kisses Jaskier probably a little harder than he ought to, but from the noise Jaskier makes it seems he enjoys it. His hands come up to tug at Jaskier’s clothing, the fancy frippery in the way of everything he suddenly wants, and he grunts in frustration, walking Jaskier back until he’s pinned beneath the wall and Lambert’s weight.

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathes when Lambert pulls away to kiss his neck instead. He’s extremely vocal when Lambert bites down, shuddering and tugging at Lambert’s half-undone clothing. “Fuck yes, come on. I need you in me, I need—”

Lambert shuts him up again with a kiss, probably damaging Jaskier’s clothes as he finishes tearing them out of the way just enough to grant him access. Jaskier’s prick is already rock hard, a warm, thick weight in his palm as Lambert jerks him messily, already beyond impatient for what comes next.

“Here,” Jaskier pants, shoving something at Lambert. He assumes the phial was hidden in a pocket, but it doesn’t matter.

“Next time you do me,” Lambert bargains, not quite sure when he gave himself permission to say that.

Jaskier moans in response, pulling Lambert in and kissing him roughly. He seems beyond words as Lambert works slick fingers into him, although not beyond making the most beautiful noises as Lambert scissors his fingers and thrusts them in and out, making sure Jaskier is stretched enough. They’re impatient, and Jaskier seems to care as little for waiting as Lambert does. He’s tight and hot and so fucking perfect when Lambert pushes his prick into him, Jaskier’s legs wrapped around his waist and the bard’s weight helping him sink down on Lambert’s cock. Groaning in relief, his body burning with the need to fuck Jaskier until he’s satisfied, Lambert kisses the bard again, adjusting his gasp on him.

The first snap of his hips back into Jaskier’s body after pulling almost entirely out is the perfection Lambert didn’t realise he was craving. He does it again, and again, fucking Jaskier with open enthusiasm and finding that Jaskier is an active, needy partner. He is vocal, whimpering and moaning between kisses, praised mixed with curses that eventually peter out into ragged breaths as Lambert’s efforts push him closer to completion. If Lambert were to touch his cock, he’s sure Jaskier would come instantly. His pretty, flushed prick is trapped between them, weeping precome and radiating fierce heat as Lambert shoves into Jaskier again and again, letting his own restraint unravel. This isn’t the sort of fucking that takes all evening building up to climax, this is rough and needy, full of broken gasps and moans, sweat gathering and clothes still hanging loosely from their bodies.

He lets Jaskier’s orgasm guide him to his own, the wet, satisfying spill of come between them and the rhythmic tensing of Jaskier’s ass making it easy to let go. Lambert comes with a groan, holding Jaskier tight and kissing him messily as he spills inside of him.

When they pull apart, Jaskier is shaky on his feet. He’s grinning, though, flushed and looking exactly like he’s just been fucked raw against a wall.

“Well,” he breathes, clearly struggling to catch his breath as he rights his clothes. “I thought you’d do me over the bench, but that was incredible.”

Lambert snorts at the idea. “Something would get broken. Or explode.”

Jaskier hums in idle acknowledgement, brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “Good point.”

Lambert thinks that’s it, that they’re done now. After all, they both got what they needed. He’s pretty sure Jaskier will go back to his music. The bard, as soon as he’s halfway gathered himself, his clothes mostly back in place although definitely ripped in two places, heads towards the door. He lingers there for a moment, looking back at Lambert with a grin.

“So next time, huh?”

Lambert remembers his own demand, spoken without really thinking. He didn’t think Jaskier would take him seriously. His first thought is to tell him to fuck off, but he bites the urge back. Instead, he finds himself smirking, realising that there is a lot of fun they can have together. “Think you’re equal to the task?” he teases.

“Oh, darling,” Jaskier sing-songs. “I’m more than equal. Just you wait.”

Lambert intends to ensure that the wait isn’t long at all.