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Geralt was wiping his sword clean when Jaskier shouldered his way into the room both Geralt and Yennifer had rented out.
“Oh, good. You made it.”
Jaskier took a moment to survey the scene as his struggled to comprehend just what he had walked into. Geralt had mentioned a few key items to him previously, hinted at others and laid down some ground rules. But the sum of it all displayed before him left him feeling altogether gob smacked. His jaw dropped open involuntarily and his chest hunched inward as an aborted sound escaped him.
Two guards, he assumed, lay broken, be they dead or dying, on the floor by the bed. Small pools of blood had trickled from their forgotten corpses. Geralt must have dispatched the duo shortly before Jaskier arrived. Yennifer was bent over a chest of drawers that had been dragged into the center of the room. She was draped over the short length of it, her hips on one end, her shoulders the other. Her arms were stretched down over the side of the chest, tied down to the base. Her legs forced wide, feet, again, tied to the bottom of the chest. She was draped elegantly over some furred blankets, cushioning her delicate body from the hard, wood frame. A few feet away a tall mirror was placed directly in front of Yennifer so that there was little for her to see other than her own reflection when her head was lifted.
Jaskier reflexively swallowed as he took in the smaller details. His hands, flitting nervously, could not find a comfortable resting place as they took turns perched on his hips, crossing over his arms, fingertips lighting over his lower lip and gripping at his waist since he dared not touch anything else.
Yennifer was naked. Naked as any siren prepared to take a man to their death. Save for the piece of cloth lodged in her mouth to silence her. Jaskier had never seen such beautiful skin stretched out so brazenly, tied and tempting. Her bottom was perfectly aligned with the edge of the chest, the soft globes of flesh were tantalizingly free of any constraints, free to access, free to touch, maul, bite and slap. Her breasts were buried in the furs she laid upon, but little was left to his imagination as he could nearly taste the hidden creamy flesh between his lips. And below her bottom laid bare her womanly parts. Jaskier could hear a small, high-pitched whine. It took a moment longer before he realized that almost inhuman sound had been produced by himself. He was helpless to contain it. With her legs spread and tied, he could see the pale, puffy lips of her labia, the soft pink innards barely peeking out. A delightful shimmer of excited slick had slipped down the insides of her thighs, the shine of it glowing in the light from the fireplace.
Geralt, his hair free and swaying over his shoulders with his slow paces, came suddenly into few. He gripped Jaskier by the front of his doublet. “You’re here to ...participate?” he said, barely above a whisper.
Interrupted by the larger man, Jaskier’s mouth trembled as he came out of his reverie. He gave Geralt large eyes for a mere moment before once again returning to gaze longingly at the flesh bared to him. “Uh, yes. Yes!” He gained use of his tongue again and his hands found grips upon Geralt’s forearms.
“Then sit and wait for your turn,” Geralt commanded, shoving Jaskier back into a wooden chair.
Jaskier fumbled uncomfortably in the chair to accommodate the swell of urgency that coursed through his lower half. But his attention was torn from his woesome troubles to the couple in front of him. Geralt had tossed his sword to the bed, pulled his shirt overhead and was now dragging his large hands along the plane of Yen’s back. His thumbs pressed firmly into her body, giving a massage that Jaskier could only imagine was as deep and powerful as a witcher could provide.
He had learned ages ago that Geralt had been an excellent student of anatomy, both human and non. He understood pressure points, the positioning of tendons and bones, the sensitivity of certain organs, the easiest places to provide the most damage and, most thrillingly, the most enjoyment.
Jaskier lifted his seat only a moment to drag it into a better view. From his new vantage point, he could see Yen in the mirror as well as the sensuous point where her body met Geralt’s as he stood behind. This way, Jaskier could not miss a thing and could be the best voyeur he could manage.
Geralt’s hands continued their tour, touching every inch of Yen he could reach. They climbed over her shoulders and along her arms, skimming the ropes that bound her. He knelt beside her and momentarily, his finger twined with hers, his head bent down as he whispered to her. Her head shook, her fingers waggled and Geralt gave a grunt of acceptance. His ministrations continued, his strength sapping away any tensions left in the muscles of his partner. Jaskier could swear he could hear Yen’s groans, though muffled, as he returned to position himself behind her.
Kneeling, Geralt nuzzled at the cheeks of her bottom, taking turns to lay open mouthed kisses and tongue swipes upon each. His hands climbed her legs, thumbs swirling through the wet shine of slick that continued to grease down her thighs. He popped a thumb into his mouth, eyes closing as he sucked clean the digit. And with this single taste that seemed to only fuel his desires, Geralt palmed her cheeks and spread them apart, his face diving into the soft folds that held further sweetness. Yen’s body stiffened and shook. Her eyes closed, head thudding on the chest’s side. Her jaw worked over the cotton in her mouth as she grunted and sighed.
Jaskier had never felt so thirsty in his life while simultaneously having to swallow the considerable amount of drool he collected. He shifted again, his breeches becoming almost too tight to ignore. He had watched two people make love before. This should not be so different. Yet, everything about Geralt and Yennifer were completely different. The very air seemed to shimmer with energy and he breathed in great gulps of excitement and anticipation.
Geralt’s tongue swiped up the length of Yen’s pussy and crack, leaving no inch spared. His thick fingers slipped through her trembling legs and slid deep inside her, withdrawing slowly. Geralt pulled his hand away, fingers glazed in sticky fluids. He flexed his fingers, an obscene smirk tilting upon his lips as he witnessed the gooey substance stretch between his digits.
Jaskier’s tongue flicked over his own lips as he ached to experience this moment for himself. His breath rattled in his lungs, his heart began to thud in his ears. Geralt turned his head enough to lock eyes with Jaskier before engulfing those sticky fingers in his mouth and sucking them clean. Jaskier swears he saw stars in that very moment as electricity coursed along his skin.
Returning his attentions to Yen’s cunt, Geralt began to repeat his hungry motions. He would shove his fingers deep within her, his knuckles meshed with the cushioning on her plump ass, pumping into her soft void, before withdrawing and dragging those moist lengths into his eager mouth. He repeated this deliciously filthy act until he felt sated, his chin shiny from his efforts. As he regained his footing, he climbed Yen’s body, nipping her tender skin at the back of her thighs, the apex curve of her ass, the dimples on her lower back and her shoulder blades. Each nip left a red mark of teeth and eliciting a muffled yelp of pain from his victim. Finally standing, Geralt took a moment to savor the meal of flesh and bone before him. His groin pressed firmly against the swell of her ass, his hands gripping the muscle so firmly, surely fingertip bruises would be left behind. He lifted his hands away and brought them back down swiftly, slapping the meat of his palms upon the bare, angelic glow of Yen’s ass. Her body jerked, a sharp yip torn from her stuffed mouth. And again, Geralt pressed himself upon her, ensuring the swell of his cock beneath his breeches rubbed over the now reddened skin of her ass, fingers dimpling the tender muscle as he squeezed, before once again clapping his palms down on the unprotected flesh. Yen jolted hard enough to jostle the chest of drawers beneath her and Geralt gave a bark of laughter. He soothed his hands over her sore buttocks, giving the abused flesh a gentle pat-pat.
And now, his partner’s flesh stinging, her once shimmering thighs devoid of the slick signs of lust, Geralt divested himself of the ties to his breeches and began to rub the length of his cock along her once sopping slit. His head rolled along his shoulders as he let loose an audible groan and he began to shove his length into Yen, the head of his cock forcing into the very entrance to her pussy. Yen’s spine bowed as she thrashed futilely against her bonds. Geralt had sucked away her moistness, selfishly devouring the very slick juices that would aid his path. And he had left her buttocks puckered in pain, the pins and needles were not of excitement.
Jaskier’s lower lip was caught between his teeth so forcefully, he tasted the acid of his own blood. He too, knows the aching stretch of dry flesh against flesh and the burn that came with it. Gooseflesh ripped up and down his arms and legs and he felt a chill even in the toasty warm room. It was a pain so exquisite and found so rare that it seemed almost unfair to share this moment even visually. It wasn’t his favorite sensation, nor one he actively sought out, but he enjoyed the brief and scant few times he was able to immerse himself in it.
Geralt sighed heavily, his hands once against gripping at his lover’s flesh. This time he lifted her gently, tugging her hips ever so slightly away from the wooden chest to dive his fingers between her legs to pluck at her needy pearl. He increased the pressure from his hips, an aching inch driving into her folds, earning a shudder from her spine. Yet Geralt’s fingertips must have had some magic in them as Jaskier witnessed the warm exchange of pain to pleasure melt across Yennifer’s flesh. He worked her clit so gently, so expertly, that as a gurgle of happiness bubbled from her lips, Geralt’s length slipped entirely within her without resistance. His hips seated merrily upon the curvature of her ass and Geralt released her to grip her hips and press her down into the furs and wood.
He gave her a moment’s breath before he moved back, slipping nearly out of her, then his hips snapping forward to ensure his entire length buried deep within her. She coiled, her spine moving with the effort, her shoulders bunching and her head lifted as she glared daggers as Geralt through the mirror. Geralt’s usual stoic face was written with a smugness Jaskier had never witnessed. Again, Geralt withdrew enough to leave the slightest tip within her, only to snap his hips forward with an inhuman speed. The air was punched out of Yen, her spine bowing as her body desperately attempted to make some space between cervix and her assaulter. She continued to glare at him, but cracked at the edges and began to whimper ever so quietly.
Geralt frowned and nodded, silently understanding whatever message Yen had given him and returned to his previous task. He began to move his hips slowly, allowing her to feel every last inch of his width and length, and letting his hips rest against her ass gently before retreating. He planted his hands on the chest beside her waist, giving his body that much more leverage and control.
Jaskier watched with rapt fascination as the muscles of Geralt’s back worked. The corded lines down the length of his spine allowed for a dip and valley he could nearly imagine his tongue trailing along. The scars littered across his skin were of a shiny texture and the flickering firelight danced upon them. Geralt’s shoulders were broad and heavily muscled. The line of his body narrowed, tightening at the waist. In the mirror, Jaskier could watch the man’s stomach and abs flex with the repetitive motion as he fucked in and out of Yen’s eager snatch. He gaped, thoroughly enraptured, as he watched Geralt’s cock disappear over and over, the hot length of flesh pressing open Yen’s cunt. The shiny slick of her pussy had returned, coating Geralt’s length and it was beginning to slip down her thighs again. Jaskier could hear the wet collision of flesh and the soft, sucking sounds of a hungry cunt. He closed his eyes to savor the sound, mouth swallowing up his excess drool, and inhaled deep. Fuck, he could fucking smell it. It was tangy-sweet, yet containing a depth that no perfume could ever repeat. He gripped his groin, adjusting his cock beneath his breeches.
Having given Yennifer the encouragement she needed, Geralt began to fuck her in earnest. His considerable weight rocked into the chest of drawers, rattling the handles with each resounding smack of his hips into her ass. Yen’s body twitched, her head lifting and turning, her eyes rolling and her breath so deep, it puffed at the cloth and dislodged it from her mouth. “Fuuuuuck!” she spat, her hands gripping at the ropes that bound her as she came. “Fuuuuuuuck!” she managed again, this time sounding strained and thinned, her body clearly struggling to come down from its orgasmic high and Geralt was refusing to give her a moment’s respite.
He continued to piston into her, his breath only now quickening, his mouth sagging open with his pants. His steady rhythm was barely altered, just a hiccup, when he dropped his head and grit his teeth. His hips hiccuped in their motion, jerking abruptly as he emptied himself deep within Yen’s cunt. He sighed, smoothed his hands down Yen’s back and buttocks before gripping himself and sliding out. He took a staggered step back and Jaskier ogled his length. The tip was still weeping come, droplets clung to the sticky skin. He was glistening, soaked down to his balls. And he was still ragingly hard. Jaskier gulped audibly and tugged at his breeches, wishing he was free of them to rub down his own aching length.
Geralt turned toward him and crooked a finger, beckoning the bard forward. Jaskier immediately found himself at his friend’s side, eager to listen to any and all demands.
“Kneel,” Geralt ground out.
His knees thudded to the floor without hesitation and Jaskier gazed longingly at his friend, eyes flicking to the dribbly cock that was mere inches away. He licked his lips in anticipation, unsure of what was to come next, the over stimulation of the moment having wiped any memory of his previous consult with the witcher. Geralt had talked to him before. They had planned for his attendance. Even still, he wasn’t prepared for the enormity of it all.
“Now, eat,” Geralt commanded, a hand gripping at Jaskier’s jacket and shoving his face toward the abused gash that was Yennifer’s twitching cunt. Jaskier caught himself before falling face first into a sticky mess. Geralt’s breath was on his cheek, the witcher’s white hair tickling at him, “Eat my come out of Yen’s pussy like a good boy, bard. Swallow every last drop and maybe we’ll allow you some release.” He gave him another small shove before leaving Jaskier to his work. Geralt himself made his way to Yennifer’s head, his fingertips lifting her up to face him. “And you, my little sorceress. You are going to clean up my cock.”
Yennifer smiled weakly, before flashing her tongue over her lips, “I love it when you talk that way,” she purred.
“Suck,” Geralt demanded, doing his best to hide his smile. Yen’s mouth opened and he allowed her to suck down his messy length.
Between Yennifer’s tied legs, Jaskier struggled to control his breathing as he wished to savor the event that lay spread before him. He could see Geralt has buried his cock in Yen’s throat, and he trembled to think what else could possibly be in store for him this very night. He gazed down upon the shiny slick that created a path down Yen’s thighs and watched, as her cunt tightened and flexed, forcing a bubbling flow of come to begin to drip down that path. His head bobbed and he sought the creamy line of filth with his tongue, nary allowing it a chance to drip away. He lifted his head to glance at Geralt to gain a moment of attention. He opened his mouth, allowing the witcher to see the delicious mouthful he had gathered, before rolling the slick over his tongue and swallowing it. Geralt twitched, his hips jerking a bit as he fucked into Yen’s mouth and throat. Jaskier groaned audibly as he smacked his lips as though he had just finished his favorite snack. His eyes remained locked upon the white wolf as he, with a deliberate sensuality, slid his tongue over his lips. Geralt offered him a snarling grunt and lowered his gaze while gripping Yen tightly by her hair.
Smirking to himself, Jaskier ducked down again and returned to his task. He intending to eat this cunt so well that Yennifer would be unable to service Geralt for the amount she would be screaming. He began by cleaning up the mess at hand. He sucked away the dribbling come of his friend’s mixed pleasures, swallowing away the luscious flow that slipped over his tongue and throat like nothing he had ever consumed before. He groaned again despite himself, enjoying not only the flavor slipping over his lips, but the sensation of sharing this deviantly intimate moment with the two people he cared for the most.
The immediate problem cleared away, Jaskier began his in-depth problem solving. He palmed those perfectly curved buttocks and tugged them apart to make way for his tongue. He swiped her cunt and crack, expertly laving his tongue from clit to asshole to lick away and missed drops. He could hear Yen’s squeal around a mouthful of cock and he beamed with pride. He made sure to repeat the action only once more as to not desensitize her from the delightful sensation. She squealed again and this time, Jaskier palmed his groin, hoping at some moment he could free himself from those damned leather confines.
And now, Jaskier decidedly copied his dear friend, the witcher. He plunged two fingers as deeply as he could within that delicious snatch and pulled them free, only to shove them into his eager mouth. A line of sticky come had trailed from her pussy to his mouth and Jaskier saw stars for the second time that night. Again, he shoved two fingers within those soft walls that clenched to tighten around him and Jaskier prayed that it wasn’t just his fingers that found the depths of Yen’s cunt. He could feel her tightening, spasming, vicing over his fingers. He longed to allow his cock the same pleasure. He tugged his hand free and he let loose yet another bubbling stream of come. He watched for a moment, the slick substance sliding down the length of her thigh, cooling over her flesh. A sound escaped him again like a keening whine, a hunger waking him that could not be fed with come alone. He lapped at her wet skin, tongue scooping away the creamy fluid to return her to her once clean state.
Geralt tugged his cock from Yen’s mouth and dragged his balls over her lips, “These, too,” he reminded her. Her tongue hanging loose from her jaw, Yen bathed the soft, loose skin before guiding one testicle into her mouth. She sucked, her tongue rolling the tender flesh, causing tremors to rack up Geralt’s spine. “Gently!” he hissed, his hands burying in her hair firmly, the lengths of his fingers tugged to remind her of the task. She released one to suck down the other, again, shaking Geralt bodily. “Ugh,” he growled, his hands now fisting in her hair, weaving ever tighter. He pulled her mouth away, his length no longer flush and hard. She could easily fit all of it in her mouth now. Without voicing his demand, Yennifer bobbed her head and filled her mouth with his flesh. Geralt’s shoulders fell as his head rolled back, “Ohhh, yeaaaah,” he sighed. He relaxed at last, her hair threading loose from his weakened fingers.
Jaskier had finished his task and yet, he was still hungry for more. He tugged gently on Yen’s hips, giving him just enough space to slip his fingers along her clit. He once against buried his mouth between her thighs, his tongue lashing out to dig into the depths of her pussy. He earned another squeal and her legs jerked around his ears. Eager to do more, Jaskier once again plunged his fingers into her depths while he flicked ever so devilishly at her clit with his tongue. He began to fuck her with his fingers, savoring the soft sucking sounds her pussy made as it clenched around his digits. He slurped and sucked, listening intently for the pants and squeals Yennifer made while he ate at her cunt like a starved man.
Two hands on his shoulders jerked him from his hard won prize as Geralt lifted him to his feet. “Perhaps you have earned something, bard.” So enchanted with his task between glorious thighs, Jaskier had not heard the witcher pull away from the sorceress. His face was shiny with his efforts, his fingers nearly dripping with the excitement he had built so tenderly twixt those pale legs.
“Yes?” He stammered, the backs of his hands wiping at his cheeks and chin. His brain scrambled to ensure there was enough attention summoned to give his friend the comprehension required. This was as far as he had spoken to Geralt about previously. Anything new was uncharted territory.
“Yen?” Geralt asked, his eyes not yet abandoning the bard’s.
The raven haired sorceress, no longer bound, a sheer night gown draped upon her shoulders, stepped from behind the larger man to grip Jaskier by the arm. The gown seemed to flow around her body with a wind from another world. She waved a hand, the bodies of the guards disappeared, her magic now recalled. The bed was clean, the chair returned to its rightful place and the set of drawers against the wall. “Come to bed with me,” she whispered to him with a smile. “I want to experience more.” She pulled away, leading him to the bed.
Jaskier, having finally been given the permission he so desperately ached and begged for, tugged immediately at his breeches. But – a thought – would he live to see the marrow? He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed and sought the witcher’s countenance. “Geralt?” he rasped.
From the corner of the room, Geralt grunted, “Go on. She invited you.” He was against the wall, hair once again pulled back, a pair of linen shorts slung low on his hips. “I will… I will stay. Here.” His face was inscrutable, his voice careful.
The bard yanked at his tunic and shirt while making his way to follow Yen to the bed. His fingers were working over the laces of his breeches when he spared Geralt a glance, “You need not be that far away,” he sang, wiggling his fingers wiggled beckoningly as if to invite the witcher closer. He slid his breeches and smalls away, naked knees climbing into the bed as Yen’s arms welcomed him.