Chapter Text
Jaskier paced back and forth in the small forest clearing where Geralt and he had made camp two days ago. Two days. That’s how long it was since Geralt had left to fulfil the contract of some sorcerer living in an old fort a mile west of here.
Jaskier was used to Geralt being gone for a while, a day, maybe two at a push, but this felt wrong. Geralt had told him, as he always did, not to follow him. But Jaskier knew how tricky sorcerers could be. What if Geralt was in trouble?
He couldn’t bear waiting any longer. He went over to his pack and drew out the knife Geralt had given him last Spring, strapping it to his belt and marching off west, to save his great white wolf.
He got approximately two steps into the old, vine encrusted fort, before he was found and captured. Not a great start, even he would admit, but he and Geralt had worked their way out of worse scrapes than this. Right?
The sorcerer caught him single handed, a twist of his wrist sending a rope out to entangle Jaskier’s feet and then his hands. His dagger lifting out of it’s sheath and floating into the sorcerer’s waiting palm. He cursed and struggled. The sorcerer paid him no mind, his face hidden by the dark cowl of his cloak. Jaskier began to float into the air until they were eye to eye. He threw back his hood revealing a middle-aged face, kindly, with greying hair and wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, as if he smiled often. Jaskier wasn’t taken in by the gentle visage of his abductor; changing faces was child’s play for sorcerers. This one obviously wanted to appear unthreatening.
The sorcerer opened his mouth and out came a warm, friendly voice “My white wolf mentioned he had a little lark hiding in the woods somewhere. I knew it was only a matter of time before you came flitting in. How perfect, Geralt is in need of a mate.”
Jaskier mind stopped being enraged over the use of the endearment “My white wolf” for a second, to be confused about the sorcerer’s words. Mate? What the hell was going on here? What had Geralt gotten himself into?
He opened his mouth to lash the sorcerer with his tongue but then felt it snapping shut, the sorcerer using magic to silence him. He settled for angry glowering, trying to channel his best Geralt impression. It didn’t seem to have much effect.
The sorcerer took him, still floating above the ground, into the keep. They went down many twisting hallways and stairwells, deeper and deeper into the cold earth. Jaskier tried to memorise the turns they took, but soon became disoriented; this place was a maze.
They finally reached a sturdy metal door with no latch or handle. The sorcerer whispered an incantation under his breath and the door swung inwards, slowly. It revealed a vast chamber, lined on both sides by barred off alcoves. Jaskier could see shapes pacing up and down behind the bars; animals and monsters. He crinkled his nose as the scent hit him, the deep scent of musk and dirt and sweat.
“Welcome to my menagerie, little bird,” The sorcerer proclaimed proudly, “Your new home.” Jaskier felt dread creeping in. He was so confused about what was going on. He longed to shout out to Geralt, wherever he might be, or question the sorcerer binding him. But his mouth remained closed, and the unsaid words bubbled up behind and tipped Jaskier into fresh panic. He began to thrash again and could feel his breathing hastening and spirally out of control. His efforts had no effect, his bindings remained tight and the sorcerer continued walking as if nothing was amiss. He strolled as if he was walking casually through a park, rather than totting Jaskier’s bound and floating body down a corridor of grotesque cages.
Jaskier tried to control his breathing and looked around at the cages to distract himself from his fear, and maybe find an escape route. Jaskier could see a striga, a wyvern, what looked like some lesser vampires of some kind. Most were in pairs and… engaging, in various… acts. Jaskier averted his eyes from a pair of wolves who seemed to be especially enjoying each other’s company.
The occupants didn’t so much as glance up as they passed. Their eyes bore a strange glassy look as they rutted and stared ahead at nothing. The noises they made suggested they were enjoying themselves at least.
There was a strange mistiness to the cages which didn’t extend past the heavy metal bars. It made the light cast from the wall scones reflect oddly into the small spaces, giving them an ethereal glow. Jaskier shivered, both from the chill of the space and the haunting feeling.
Finally, they stopped before the last enclosure. The sorcerer turned Jaskier around slowly to face the occupant, although Jaskier had already guessed what he would find. Geralt.
He stood, hands gripping the bars, looking out with bared teeth, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He was entirely naked and quite hard, Jaskier couldn’t help but notice before quickly averting his gaze. His eyes were glazed over, glassy, and for a moment there was no hint of recognition in them. They did eventually focus of Jaskier and the haze seemed to clear a little. He formed a shaky, rough word, “Jaskier?”
Jaskier longed to reply but he was still silenced from the sorcerer’s magic.
“I’ve brought you a present dearest one,” The sorcerer drawled, “A mate for you.”
“No.” Geralt growled. He seemed to want to form more words but his eyes were hazing over again and he was struggling. He made a few unformed sounds, seeming pained and angry over his failing.
“Hush now, darling, it’s alright. Don’t over think it, wolf. You don’t need to think any more.” The sorcerer’s tone was kind, a strange dichotomy with their threatening undertone. “You just need to live as nature intended. I’m here to help you with that.”
As he spoke, Geralt’s eyes glazed over again and he swayed a little. Jaskier thought he saw Geralt nodding along slightly. It sent a spike of fury through him. This sorcerer was obviously hypnotising Geralt, stripping him of his free will as clearly as he had stripped him of his freedom and clothing. He struggled against the spell silencing his words and with a great effort, managed to croak out,
“Stop! How dare you!”
The sorcerer turned to regard him sharply, but then he smiled,
“You’re a feisty one. Not just anyone could push past my spell like that. That’s good, you’ll need to be strong if you’re going to survive your time with my wolf.”
Jaskier breath hitched at the implication.
“Geralt would never hurt me.” He whispered, fear beginning to grip him.
“He wouldn’t mean to, of course. But I think he will go quite feral for you, you smell so… enticing.” He turned back to Geralt, who had been watching the exchange blankly, the sorcerer’s influence still strong over his mind. “He does smell delicious doesn’t he wolf? He’ll make an excellent mate.”
Geralt lifted his nose and scented the air. His pupils immediately dilated, making his eyes almost completely black. His hands gripped the bars more tightly, going white knuckled.
“Yes,” He ground out, “Smells so good.” The last came out as a whine. Jaskier had never heard Geralt make a noise like that before. The intensity of the gaze he was casting on him made Jaskier feel a very confusing mix of fear and curious anticipation. This was wrong, it was terrible, and Geralt would never say these things or look at him that way if he was in his right mind. But gods, had Jaskier stayed up thinking about Geralt looking at him like that many nights on the path; stroking himself to the thought of Geralt showing any interest in him. It was just a shame it had taken an evil sorcerer to make it happen.
Suddenly Geralt shook himself and his eyes cleared for a moment, pupils contracting,
“Jaskier,” He panted, “I’m sorry.”
“Hush, hush.” The sorcerer pitched in quickly, fixing his attention on Geralt, “Back down, that’s it.” As he spoke, Geralt’s attention fixed on him again and he began to sway a little. Jaskier thought he could taste chaos on the air. “Don’t think those confusing thoughts now, sweet one. You’ll have good fun with your new mate. You’ll finally get that release you want. Don’t think about it. You’re just an animal. You need to rut. You have to mate. Good boy.” Geralt’s eyes glazed and his pupils dilated again. When the sorcerer stopped speaking to him, his gaze roved over Jaskier, filled with an unmistakable hunger.
The sorcerer sighed, “He fights me near constantly. When I leave, much of my influence will be gone. But then the mist will do it’s work anyway. With you as well,” He said, turning to Jaskier, “You seem the type to be quite susceptible to it.”
“What are you talking about?” Jaskier asked.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
The sorcerer went up the bars. There was a section gated off so that a small part could be opened to the outside while not freeing the occupant. Then the external door could be closed and an internal one opened. The sorcerer placed Jaskier into this section, spoke another incantation and closed the door, trapping Jaskier firmly in the cage. Another whispered word and the internal door opened, so he was now in the same space as Geralt.
Geralt regarded him with those same hungry eyes. It stoked the fire inside Jaskier, at the same time as a stab of fear raced through him. But what could Jaskier say? He’d always been attracted to Geralt. And seeing him naked and snarling was really doing something for him, even if his intense eyes and bared teeth were acutely terrifying.
Geralt advanced on him quickly. Jaskier scrambled back with a yelped, “Geralt?!” before Geralt’s hands were on him, roving over his body, ripping at his clothes.
Geralt pressed his face into the crook of Jaskier’s neck and breathed deeply, then ran his tongue roughly over the warm bare skin, a rumbling noise building in his throat.
“Mate.” He growled, fixing Jaskier with those too black eyes again. Jaskier thought he should probably be scared, terrified even. But those eyes caught him and his breath hitched. He was filled with a desperate burning desire to let Geralt do whatever he wanted with him. He bared his throat to Geralt who awarded him with more attention from his tongue. The sensation was strange and oddly primal feeling to Jaskier. He didn’t dislike it.
Then the sorcerer spoke up, and Jaskier was flung back into the reality of the situation. He backed up suddenly until he was pressed against the bars and there was a meters distance between him and Geralt. Geralt followed him with his eyes, staying crouched on the floor, chest heaving.
“As much as I would like to stay and watch, I have things to attend to which you rudely interrupted, Lark. I’ll return later, when he’s broken you in. Not that you’ll be overly aware of what’s going on by then. I imagine this is the last time you’ll be able to maintain a coherent conversation. Any last words?”
Jaskier fixed the sorcerer with a disgusted stare, still uncertain what the hell was going on, “How about, Fuck You.” Jaskier spat.
“Ha, I do believe it will be, fuck you.” The sorcerer smirked, “Have fun.” He turned on his heel and left. The only sound when his footsteps receded was the distant snarling from the occupants of the neighbouring cages.
The smog was thicker in here and Jaskier could see that it was actually a fog, rather than just a haunting trick of light. He could feel it as he breathed it in and could taste it slightly on his tongue. It tasted like chaos and felt heavy in his lungs.
He found, with joy, that he was now able to speak freely again with no effort, “Geralt?” He asked tentatively, hoping that Geralt would be more lucid now the sorcerer was gone. He was no longer fixated on Jaskier like he was piece of meat, which was good, he supposed.
Geralt looked up, his long gair dangling in front of his eyes, so he looked a little deranged, “Jaskier.” He ground out, and he sounded a little more like Geralt.
“So, what’s the plan?” Jaskier asked hopefully.
“You shouldn’t have come.” Geralt growled, staring down at Jaskier with a fierce expression.
Jaskier felt his heart drop at Geralt’s tone, but it seemed to be making him just as aroused as Geralt’s snarling had. Was there anything which didn’t turn him on? Although this seemed quite… potent. He could feel himself becoming flushed and a little sweaty. He loosened his collar, trying to get some more air.
Geralt now seemed more himself. His eyes were still a little hazy and unfocused but Jaskier felt his words were his own. And he hadn’t yet pounced on him and ravished him, which is what his eyes had been promising while the sorcerer was still here. He was a little disappointed to be honest.
“Oof, it’s getting hot in here, isn’t it? I thought it was kind of cold before.”
Geralt sniffed the air, obviously scenting Jaskier’s growing arousal. His growl turned into a rumble deep in his throat.
Of course, Jaskier would follow him! That bloody bard. Geralt tried to keep his frustration with Jaskier in the front of his mind, though his growing arousal fought hard to overcome it. The sight of the bard sitting on the floor, looking up at him, vulnerable and trusting, it was too much. Mate. The word popped into his head before he could stop it. No!
He turned and paced to the other side of the tiny rock prison. A way out, there must be a way out. Something. The smell of Jaskier hit him again, hard, and he gasped, his cock throbbing insistently. He glanced back over to him, where he was still sitting on the floor, looking up at him, concerned. So beautiful, ripe for breeding. The pups they would have… He tried desperately to pull his mind away from those thoughts. Damn mages and their damn enchantments!
At least that suffocating haze the sorcerer made of his mind, when he spoke to him, was evaporating. The thoughts he put into his head… No! Geralt couldn’t think of them. He couldn’t think of pushing Jaskier over, ripping his clothes away from him. Fucking him, again and again, until they were both nothing better than mindless animals, rutting in a cave. Fill him up until he was bursting. Until the only thing his mate could think about was his cock and his knot.
Geralt came back to himself and realised he had been staring at Jaskier and drooling. He covered his face and groaned, restarting his pacing.
Geralt was pacing the small alcove like a caged animal. Which Jaskier supposed, he was right now. They both were. The vision of him, bare, so perfect, his hard cock bobbing as he paced, made Jaskier’s mouth water. What was wrong with him? This really wasn’t the time.
Geralt was more animalistic than he had ever seen him. It reminded Jaskier of the times he had encountered him in the middle or end of a hunt, when his toxic potions were strong in his system and he would barely speak, mainly using grunts or growls to communicate.
It wasn’t the animalistic growling which worried Jaskier right now though, it was the edge of anxiety to Geralt’s eyes and his stance as he paced back and forth. Jaskier could read Geralt well and he knew he was extremely worried about something right now. Worried about what he might do to him? That thought sent a traitorous spike of pleasure through Jaskier and he could feel his own cock slowly coming to attention, pushing against the tight fabric of his trousers.
He was getting very hot now and his clothes were bothering him, they felt hot and tight and itchy. All he wanted was them off. He removed his shirt, without thinking about it, and then heard a gasp from Geralt.
The sight of Jaskier’s smooth, bare, skin flipped something in Geralt’s mind. The rumbling suppressed feelings he had been wrestling down flared up, breaking through to the forefront of his mind, making rational thought impossible. He needed Jaskier, now.
Mate, mate, mate. Round and round in his head. He desperately tried to wrestle back control, even as his feet took him back over to Jaskier. He didn’t know what he was doing, he couldn’t let himself give into it. But his body was moving of its own accord.
He reached out and saw that Jaskier’s body moved in sequence with his own, pushing into him. This was right, they were two halves of the whole and they must come together. This is what the mage had been whispering into his mind in the days he had been here. He needed a mate. And here was the perfect one.
As Geralt breathed in a deep breath of Jaskier’s scent, he was gone. He no longer tried to stop himself, he wanted it too desperately. Why was he denying himself? Why would he not take advantage of this ripe, warm, willing mate?
Geralt was suddenly pressed against him, breathing in his scent and moaning. Jaskier was shocked by the sudden change in behaviour. But instead of pulling away, he felt himself being drawn into Geralt’s touch like he was magnetic. Geralt was just so damn beautiful, his pale skin and taut muscles. And Geralt had never let him touch him much before. To be offered the chance to know his body so freely, was not something Jaskier felt he could deny.
As Geralt pushed closer and began to run his tongue over Jaskier neck, Jaskier felt a strange wave of feeling wash over him and it became much harder to think even these only half coherent thoughts. There was a power to Geralt. A power which made Jaskier feel small and vulnerable. A power which pushed him further into this consuming feeling, he was helpless to resist. It was a primal thing, a need to submit. It all felt so right. Geralt was leading this, he was in charge. He didn’t need to think about this, what it meant, or the consequences.
The heat and closeness of Geralt’s body stoked the flames, which had been igniting in his belly, into bonfires. He needed Geralt right now. He needed to be fucked. He needed Geralt inside of him, claiming him. He wanted to… smell like Geralt? That was strange thought, even his addled brain could realise. But it was true. And he had the sudden desire to rub his face all over Geralt, into the crook of his neck, under his arm, in his crotch, everywhere that smelled the most Geralt, but Geralt’s body on top of his pinned him back and stopped him moving.
He whined and pressed himself against Geralt, pleading. Geralt caught his mouth in a bruising kiss. It was a lot, all of a sudden, but Jaskier didn’t care.
“The mist.” Geralt panted as he pulled away from the kiss, running his hands greedily over Jaskier, the last vestiges of rational thought making a valiant effort to surface, “Enchanted.” He kissed him again, desperate and deep, his tongue chasing Jaskier’s around. They were making obscene wet noises and it was becoming messy. Jaskier loved it. Geralt’s words registered on some distant level. It made sense. He was normally horny, but not this horny so suddenly and the strange thoughts he was having were new to him. The mist was enchanted to make them feel this way. It made little difference to him now. He couldn’t stop. And it seemed that Geralt couldn’t either.
Geralt ripped away his trousers and then his small clothes, unceremoniously stripping him in only a couple of seconds. Then he was touching him, his hard cock, his ass cheeks, everywhere. Jaskier relaxed into the touches and let him, not that he thought he could stop him right now anyway. He wanted to offer his body up to Geralt to do with however he wished.
Both of their breathing was becoming more ragged and laboured. Jaskier’s thoughts were spiralling quickly into incoherent lust. He had flashes of lucidity where he questioned the insanity of what was happening, but even in the clear moments, all he wanted was to descend back down, submit to the growing feelings within him.
Geralt was going. His control was slipping. His mind being pulled along by the demands of his body. Jaskier was so warm and pliant under his hands. So perfect. The perfect mate, he thought. And he couldn’t force himself to stop thinking it. His hands roved over his mate, touching every part of his body. Mine. He thought fiercely.
He was pressed against Jaskier, pushing him onto the cold stone floor. That wasn’t right; his mate shouldn’t be on the floor like that.
He picked Jaskier up, one arm behind his back, the other under his knees, as if he weighed nothing, and took him over to the small bedroll in the corner. It smelled strongly of Geralt already. Being here for two days on his own, he had been forced to deal with his own desire. Now he had his beautiful mate to sate him.
He leant down and breathed in the scent of him. No, that was wrong. Jaskier should smell of Geralt. He should smell so strongly of him, that no one ever doubted who’s mate he was. He growled deep in his throat.
“Mine.” He snarled.
Jaskier looked up at him with glossy eyes, his mind clearly slipping as well.
“What?” He asked, dazed.
“Smell wrong.” Geralt growled.
Jaskier’s eyes cleared for a second and then his brow furrowed. He wriggled a little in Geralt’s grasp, but Geralt didn’t release his hold.
Jaskier tilted his face up to Geralt’s, “Please, want to fix it.” He managed to force out, it seemed that he was having just as much difficulty with words as Geralt was.
Geralt rumbled in displeasure, he didn’t want to let his mate go, he wanted to hold on and keep Jaskier here. But after a second more wriggling, Jaskier made a sad little noise and Geralt immediately released him. He couldn’t bare his mate to be distressed.
As soon as Jaskier was released he moved back into Geralt’s space, which made him rumble happily, this was okay. Then he began to rub himself into Geralt’s neck, his head and face butting and grinding against Geralt’s neck and underneath his hair. It sent pleasant tingles through Geralt and when Jaskier pulled away, he did smell more like him.
Jaskier came back in, rubbing his face and neck into Geralt’s chest hair, pushing under his arms. Geralt found himself rumbling in pleasure, making a sound almost like purring. The sound seemed to push Jaskier on and he went down further, skirting around the hair of Geralt’s crotch and then going straight for it, pushing his face into the thick hair at the base of Geralt’s thick cock.
The shock of the feeling of Jaskier suddenly butting against his cock threw Geralt back into his own mind. His body was still burning with desire, but his mind was his own once again.
“Jaskier!” He half shrieked, overcome with guilt and shock. What had seemed so good and natural a second ago now seemed very wrong. Jaskier’s human mind was far more susceptible to the cloying mist around them than Geralt’s was, it had hardly taken any time at all for him to be under its influence.
The sight and sound of him almost pulled Geralt back down, it would be so much easier to give in. But no! This was wrong. There was no way, without the effects of the sorcerer’s spells, that they would ever be doing anything like this. Jaskier was young and handsome and could have any lord or lady he set his mind on, and often did. There was no way he would want a brute like Geralt. Not that it had ever stopped Geralt fantasising about it when they travelled together, both alone on opposite sides of the fire. The fact that he had always wanted more with Jaskier made this seem a larger betrayal; he would be giving in selfishly so he could take what he had always wanted.
So, with sheer force of will, he pushed the haze away and with it, Jaskier, taking his arms and pushing him back to stop his rubbing against him.
Jaskier squirmed and struggled and whined. “Please, please, please.” He panted, trying to get back to Geralt.
“No.” Geralt ground out, putting all his effort into making his hazy mind form words, “This is wrong. Your mind is…” He was really struggling, “spell.” He concluded and hoped Jaskier would understand.
“I know.” Jaskier said, smiling slightly, his eyes coming a little more into focus. “Want this. Please.”
Geralt started, confused, “You… want this?”
Jaskier looked around at the walls of the cave and crinkled his nose as if to say, well not this exactly. But then his eyes were back on Geralt and full of hunger, “Want you. Always.”
His words stole all the strength from Geralt’s limbs, allowing Jaskier to worm his way back into Geralt’s arms, “Give in. Easier.” He whispered, sweet, sweet poison in Geralt’s mind. “Take me, make me yours.” He leaned in, to kiss Geralt again.
Geralt crashed back down, crushing Jaskier against himself and stealing his mouth. He flipped them over, so he was on top of Jaskier and pushed him into the floor, tongue unrelenting as he kissed him until they were both breathless and gasping.
He pushed his face into the crook of Jaskier’s neck and scented him again. Good. He smelled of Geralt now, everyone would know who he belonged to.
“Mine.” Geralt growled, one of only a few words his mind could now make.
Jaskier just whined up at him, all words gone. He whined and begged and squirmed with his body, his addled brain unsure what it was asking for, but needing it.
“Mate.” Geralt said, forcefully, moving between Jaskier’s thighs.
Jaskier parted them easily, hungry for it, his body loose and compliant. Then he felt a strange sensation. Something new. Geralt had not yet touched him between his legs, but he could feel a warm wetness growing there, collecting under him. He made a confused noise and Geralt’s attention was on him right away, searching his mate for any signs of pain or discomfort. Finding none, he ran his tongue over Jaskier’s neck, humming soothingly. It had the desired effect and soon Jaskier was relaxing and slipping back down, comforted by his mate’s ministrations.
Geralt’s tongue moved from his neck down his body, making a small detour at his nipples, drawing languid moans from Jaskier’s parted lips, before finding it’s way down between Jaskier’s legs. There Geralt stopped and clearly found what had been causing Jaskier so much confusion. He purred in pleasure, running his fingers through the slick pouring out of Jaskier before licking it off his fingers and proclaiming proudly, “Perfect mate.” He descended back down and ran his tongue through the wet mess, eliciting deep moans from Jaskier as he ran over his hole.
Geralt kept licking and licking and licking, coating Jaskier’s thighs and ass in saliva, until it was pooling on the floor, mixing with the slick which was still dripping out of Jaskier, stimulated by his arousal.
He brought his mouth back up to Jaskier, and kissed him sloppily, revelling in the wet sounds it made.
He moved back down to Jaskier’s ass and this time he pushed his tongue inside, tasting his mate. He thrust his tongue in again and again, tasting all of Jaskier. By this point Jaskier was moaning and writhing on the bedroll. Geralt was gripping his thighs tightly to stop his movements pulling him away. He was gripping him tightly enough to bruise, but Jaskier didn’t seem to mind. His fingers were twined in Geralt’s hair and he pulled him up slightly, so they were making eye contact as Geralt continued to eat him out.
He struggled for a second, desperately trying to make his addled mind form a simple phrase. It was so hard. He felt like a dumb animal, his mind turned to mush, and he wanted to sink down into that place. But first he needed to ask his mate for one thing.
“In. Me. Now.” He forced out. And Geralt was only too happy to comply, drawing his tongue out and readjusting his body so they were chest to chest. He moved his hand down, taking himself in hand and lining up. His hands brushed over Jaskier’s wet thighs and pushed them up, folding Jaskier in half and then hooking Jaskier’s legs over his shoulders, to get better access. Jaskier clung desperately to the backs of his knees, his growing need biting and clawing at him now, making him feel feral. He didn’t need to wait long, Geralt was already starting to push in.
Jaskier let out a full body moan as Geralt pushed in, agonisingly slowly, but bottoming out in that one, long, slow, thrust. It seemed his protective side was in control, making sure that he didn’t harm his mate as he entered, but as soon as he was seated inside Jaskier, their hips flush against each other, the animal overtook him, and he couldn’t stop himself.
He took up a punishing pace, pounding into Jaskier hard and deep and fast. Jaskier was howling in pleasure, gripping onto Geralt frantically.
“Mine,” Geralt cried as he thrust in, “Mate. Fill you up. Breed you!”
Jaskier groaned and whined under him. The thought that he was Geralt’s, his willing and pliant mate, swelling up with his pups, sent him into a state of euphoria and he found he was coming, splattering Geralt’s chest. That’s when he discovered the other small change which had come over the both of them. The feeling of Geralt’s cock in him was changing, there was something new teasing his rim as Geralt thrust in. And as he continued to thrust, faster and more erratic as he chased his pleasure, the new sensation grew. Whatever it was, was growing in size and stretching Jaskier’s rim. It was popping in and out of him as Geralt pummelled him, drawing punched out moans from Jaskier as it did so. Finally, as Geralt moaned deeply over him as he found his release, he pushed in one last time and it expanded suddenly, becoming even bigger and filling Jaskier up, holding Geralt in as his hips stuttered a few more spasming thrusts.
“What…” Jaskier’s voice was shaky as he formed the word.
Geralt hummed deeply in pleasure over him, their two bodies still locked together, and began to lick Jaskier’s face and neck like a dog. “Knot.” He hummed. “Keep you full.”
Jaskier’s befuddled mind accepted that easily and he basked in the pleasure of his mate over him, cleaning him as he was filling him up, holding his seed inside.
Geralt’s refractory period was apparently much shorter than Jaskier’s, as not long after, Geralt was moving again, his knot deflating, allowing him to withdraw. He did so, but only so he could manhandle Jaskier onto his hands and knees. Jaskier went willingly, if sluggishly, still drained from the previous round. Geralt pounded into him again, from behind, taking him like a bitch in heat. He moaned and howled through it, finding his own release again seconds before Geralt found his, knot swelling and locking into Jaskier. They collapsed together onto their sides, Geralt spooning Jaskier from behind as they stayed locked together by Geralt’s knot.
Geralt didn’t know how many times they had fucked now, he had lost count after five. And to be honest, it might not even have only been five at that point, his brain was little concerned with these things. After two days of being locked in this cave with only his own hand to satisfy him, he was like a coiled spring of arousal, his drive only flagging slightly as his knot swelled and his mate lay, warm and fulfilled beside him. But as soon as his knot went down, the burning need to fuck rose sharply in him again.
He flipped his mate over again, licking a long stripe down Jaskier’s crack, delighting in his own taste, a spike of possessiveness overtaking him. It was right and good that his mate should taste like him. Then no one would mistake who had claim over them.
Once he was done licking, he plunged back in again, despite his mate’s whines and squirms. He held his mate’s hips down, and ploughed into him again and again, the only thoughts filling his head, mate, mate, mate.
Geralt was lining himself up to Jaskier’s puffy hole again, it was leaking cum freely now, pouring out in a steady stream as Jaskier whimpered and tried to clench down on the feeling. Geralt leant over him and licked over his neck.
“Relax.” He purred, rumbling and rubbing his forehead over the skin there. Jaskier whined and moved into the touch, even as he tried to move his ass away. His mind was confused; he wanted Geralt so intensely it hurt, but his ass was also starting to hurt. He could also feel a growing fullness within him, as Geralt filled him again and again. It was uncomfortable, but at the same time deeply satisfying; his mate was breeding him well.
“Too much.” Jaskier whined, lip pouting slightly.
“No.” Geralt said simply. And pushed in again, mercilessly. It made an obscene noise, squelchy and wet. More cum squirted out around his cock as he pushed in. Jaskier yowled and tried to move away again, but Geralt grabbed his hips in a bruising grip and held him there. His thrusts were long and slow; after he had already released in Jaskier so many times, he felt less rush now. As he pushed and pulled, back and forth, Jaskier sobbed slightly, but his own cock was twitching a little now and he managed some small moans as Geralt brushed over his prostate.
Despite his mates sounds of distress, Geralt was careful not to hurt him, his muddled mind could still pay keen attention to the smells coming from his beautiful mate. And right now he could smell arousal, laced with fatigue, no real distress.
Geralt noted with satisfaction that Jaskier’s belly was swelling up. He imagined he could feel the cum sloshing around, filling up his mate. Jaskier was full of him. Full to bursting. He grinned at the thought and his thrusts became quicker and sharper, pulling yelps from Jaskier’s kiss bruised lips. His yelps quickly turned back to groans and as Geralt’s pleasure overtook him and his knot swelled once again.
Jaskier slumped in an exhausted, satisfied haze, the warm pain mixing irresistibly with the pleasure of fulfilling his mate.
Jaskier woke up some time later, his body feeling cold and exposed. It took him a moment to figure out why, Geralt was not with him, was not touching him. For a second, that seemed a strange thing to think. His muddled brain couldn’t quite figure out where he was and why he would expect Geralt to be there. Then he looked up and his eyes locked with the shinning golden pair across the room from him and it all came flooding back, along with a deep primal need within him. It was almost an itch, so deep seated that only one thing would reach it. Mate, he thought, blood rushing from his brain, back down to his crotch. But he was so tired, and his head fell back onto the furs.
“Come here.” Geralt commanded. Jaskier looked up at him again with dazed and dizzy eyes, exhaustion clear around the edges, taking Geralt in fully now. He was sitting, legs straight in front of him, back propped against the rough stone wall of the cave. They had fucked countless times, Jaskier must have passed out during the previous round because he had awoken on the one bedroll in the cramped cave, Geralt sitting a few paces away.
His ass throbbed. He had never been fucked so many times in one day. He thought the effects of the mist must be waning after so much pleasure as his thoughts when he had awoken had been clearer, his burning need to be fucked, dampened, and momentarily forgotten. But the sound of Geralt’s commanding growl made his thoughts swirl again.
He crawled over, his legs too weak to carry him, and knelt before his mate. The fiery gaze of Geralt on him stoked the fired in his gut again and he whined, leaning into his mate, and delighting in the feeling of their closeness. Geralt’s strong arms encircled him and then lifted him easily so he was straddling across his lap, in front of Geralt’s hard cock.
“Ride me.” Was all Geralt said, his hands leading Jaskier to position himself properly.
Jaskier whined and leaned his forehead against Geralt’s shoulder.
“Tired.” He whined.
Geralt moved his head into the angle of Jaskier’s shoulder and licked over it before taking it between his teeth, making Jaskier yelp. He bit down, hard enough to leave a mark for a day, but not breaking the skin. It sent intense tingles washing through Jaskier’s body. The act of being held there by Geralt’s teeth did something to Jaskier’s mind as well. He found himself blanking out, surrendering completely to the authority of his mate. Must do as I am told. He thought. Geralt’s desires became his only thoughts.
Geralt released him, but his mindset did not change. As Geralt rumbled and licked over the bite mark forming on his shoulder, Jaskier repositioned himself easily and sank down on Geralt’s cock with a moan.
“Good mate.” Geralt purred, and the praise lit Jaskier up with joy, that was all he wanted, to be a good mate for Geralt. He began to move, bouncing up and down on Geralt’s cock while thrusting his hips slightly to give his mate more stimulation. His thighs shook as he moved, his body feeling exhausted, but the sight of his pleased mate beneath him spurred him on.
After a while, when his thrusting was becoming weak and he could barely hold himself up, Geralt took his tired body and rolled them both over, so he was lying behind Jaskier, spooning him from behind. He took over the thrusting, short and sharp, his knot swelling quicky and catching in Jaskier.
Jaskier fell asleep with them both locked together. Geralt purring and licking at his neck, sucking soft love bites into the delicate skin, and whispering,
“Good mate. Perfect mate.”