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“Stop squirming like a child, Jaskier. I’ll deal with you when I’m ready.”
Jaskier stills, a small whimper jumping out of his throat at the order.
The noise echos louder than it’s right in the empty hall, the sound reverberating off the stone walls again and again until it could almost be mistaken for laughter. Jaskier imagines Kaer Morhen itself finding joy in his plight.
He’s a poet. He has a gods given right to dramatics.
Behind him, Eskel huffs a small laugh. The hot puff of the witcher’s breath lands between Jaskier’s shoulder blades, a light thing that strikes Jaskier like a heavy blow.
Eskel is lounging on one of the great hall’s overstuffed chairs, his legs splayed wide and his cock hard and waiting. He’s otherwise still fully dressed, not having bothered to remove his own clothes after he had stripped Jaskier bare, turned him around, and positioned him standing between Eskel’s broad thighs, exposed to anyone who might come by.
“Are you ready to take me?” Eskel asks.
“No,” Jaskier answers honestly, because of course he isn’t. Eskel’s cock is hard to take at the best of times, when he’d been laid out on Eskel’s bed, stretched on thick fingers for what feels like hours. When Eskel waits until Jaskier is half out of his mind and desperate to be filled before slowly, carefully, pushing inside, pinning Jaskier’s hips to the mattress so he can’t try to spear himself faster than Eskel allows.
But those nights are a reward. Had Jaskier not gone and almost got himself killed earlier he might have three of Eskel’s fingers deep in him already. Instead, he’s got a lesson to learn.
“I know, but I need you to go ahead anyway,” Eskel replies, his voice low but firm. Eskel’s hands find Jaskier's waist as he encourages the bard to take a step back.
“You’ll be fine, I slicked myself up for your cunt,” Eskel soothes when Jaskier starts to tremble.
“Eskel, I...It’ll hurt,” Jaskier says, because it would. And just because he’d agreed to it and had a word if he needed to stop it and on his deathbed might even admit he deserved it -
Well, he just never thought there’d come a day when he’d be begging not to take Eskel’s cock.
“Course it will,” Eskel answers, “But you won’t be injured. Not like you could have been if I hadn’t found you picking your way down those crumbling stairs in time. You take one of us with you if you want to go exploring Jask, you know that. A little pain now will give you something to think about before you go putting yourself in danger again.”
Jaskier thinks up and discards six different arguments to that in the space of a breath, dismayed to find that none of them have merit. He knows that he’d fucked up, put a horrible panicked look on Eskel’s face when the Witcher found him testing his weight on an unlikely patch of stone. If Jaskier wants Eskel’s cock, Jaskier also gets Eskel’s rules. That’s been the game from the start.
Jaskier chokes back his argument and tries to stay still, to wait patiently for Eskel to put him where he wants. He normally likes his sex hard and fast, to poke and prod until his partners shove his face into the sheets and force him to stay still, but he’s not sure he could take the trouble that behavior would land him in tonight.
Finally, Eskel moves, placing one hand on Jaskier’s back between his shoulders and one teasingly low on his stomach, guiding him to bend at the waist. Despite Jaskier's trepidation he feels his hole twitch as he imagines all the things those hands could do to him with no more effort than breathing.
“Go ahead, Jaskier. Reach back and spread,” Eskel’s voice cuts through Jaskier’s thoughts.
Jaskier turns to look at Eskel incredulously. “You cannot be serious.”
Eskel gives him a hard swat on the thigh. “Head forward.”
Jaskier yelps but snaps his head forward, flushing at the thought of what he’s been asked to do. But delay will only prolong his embarrassment, so he hesitates for only a moment longer before obeying, slowly reaching back to grasp his own cheeks and pull himself wide for Eskel’s inspection.
It was nothing Eskel hadn’t seen before, but not...like this. Not in the broad light of day, with Jaskier bare and Eskel clothed, where any of the other wolves could walk in at any moment and look their fill as well. He feels cool air brush his entrance and tenses in response, squeezing his hole tight as if that would protect it from view.
Jaskier stands there for what seemed like an eternity, waiting. The world narrows down and he swears he can feel Eskel’s gaze. The more aware Jaskier becomes of his own body the less in control he feels as it squeezes and contracts, unable to keep himself under control while Eskel just sits behind him, unmoving, looking.
“Come now, I know you can open more. Step wide and bend for me, I want to check that you’re tight enough to feel it.”
Jaskier does as he is told, pulling at his cheeks until the muscles at his rim burn. He can feel his hole start to spread as it peeks open to give Eskel just the slightest view inside.
This time, blessedly, Eskel does not make him wait before touching him, reaching in and lightly circling his fingers against around the rim of Jaskier’s asshole.
Jaskier gasps, the wait making him excruciatingly aware of every touch. He wants more but Eskel keeps his touch infuriatingly light, ghosting over Jaskier’s hole just to see it clench, tracing circles around his rim, putting a bit of pressure on his hole. But no matter how much Jaskier tries to shift back into his touch Eskel refuses to enter him, unwilling to let Jaskier set the pace.
Finally, Eskel pulls back, grabbing the open vial of oil beside him. “You’re fine as you are, but since I’m feeling especially generous I’ll give you a bit more slick.” Before he’s finished speaking he pushes his thumb and index finger inside Jaskier. He drags them leisurely in and out, pushing until he’s knuckle deep and then pulling back out until the tips of his fingers are resting against Jaskier’s hole. It’s not until Jaskier starts to clench down on his fingers, desperate for more, that he spreads his fingers apart and stretches Jaskier wide. Eskel doesn’t give Jaskier a chance to adjust before he uses his other hand to slip the neck of the vial of oil into Jaskier, pushing the thick glass in until its wider base is flush with Jaskier’s ass.
“All the way over now. Hands on the floor,” Eskel says.
Jaskier didn’t think it was possible to get more embarrassed, but he’d clearly underestimated Eskel. A fool’s mistake. He slowly tips forward, releasing his cheeks to put his hands on the ground. He feels a cool rush deep inside him as the lube slides down. Jaskier’s flushes as he imagines how he must look, completely naked before Eskel, debasing himself just because his wolf asked it of him.
Finally, the bottle is completely emptied into him. Eskel pops the glass out and guides Jaskier back to standing, instructing him to “hold it in for me, I don’t want to see you lose a single drop of slick.” He nudges Jaskier into an even wider stance, keeping his hands on the bard’s hips to help him balance.
“You’ve stalled enough, go ahead and squat down for me, let’s get you in position. Keep yourself tight until I say.”
Jaskier resignes himself to not coming out of this encounter with any remaining dignity, which he suspects is as much part of his punishment as what will come next. Eskel helps guide his body as Jaskier lowers himself down, dropping into a wide squat between Eskel’s spread legs, his cock and balls hanging free and completely exposed to the hall before him.
Even though he knows it was coming, Jaskier still startles when he feels the head of Eskel’s cock touch his hole.
“There you go, almost ready now. Last thing we need to do is get me started, okay? Go ahead and relax for me now, it’s okay if some of the slick comes out. I’m going to help you take my tip.”
Eskel is so different from the partners Jaskier has been with in the past. He never needs to raise his voice, he just expects that he will be obeyed.
It makes Jaskier very much want to obey.
Still, Jaskier can’t help but hiss as Eskel’s cockhead breaches him. They are both plenty slick, hells, Jaskier is downright leaking, but without the courtesy of any other prep it stings.
“Hush, bard. You know the hurt is the point, I don’t need whining about what you brought upon yourself,” Eskel chides.
Jaskier grits his teeth and tries to stay still, waiting on Eskel’s word.
“I’ve been patient, but it’s time to take a seat,” Eskel says. “Remember what we talked about, you’re going to take it all in one.” Jaskier bites his lip and chokes back another fruitless argument. “We go about that two ways,” Eskel continues, “I can help pull you down and make sure you do it right. But then I’ll have you sitting longer to make sure the message sinks in. Or you can do it yourself. But you better be sure you’ll be able to take it in one or I’ll spank your hole after for being a cheat.”
Jaskier pauses, considering his options. The longer he stays on Eskel’s cock the the greater the likelihood that the others would walk in and see his plight, but...Eskel isn’t a small man.
“...Help me? Please?” Jaskier asks.
“Help you what, Jaskier?” Eskel prompts.
“Please help me sit on your cock, sir.”
Eskel sucks in a sharp breath and his hands tighten on Jaskier’s hips. Jaskier has only a moment to be quietly pleased that Eskel isn’t unaffected by him before he is drawn down, Eskel’s large hands insistently pulling at his hips, leaving no room for argument.
And gods , it burned. Jaskier gasps and whimpers as he instinctively tries to pull away, the flash of pain temporarily overwhelming the knowledge that the pain was the point. But Eskel is insistent, dragging Jaskier down onto his cock until he’s fully seated. Jaskier vaguely registers that had he not asked for help he would have surely failed, but that knowledge is largely drowned out by the feeling of too much.
Eskel runs his hands up and down Jaskier’s chest, murmuring praise and reminders to not forget this feeling or risk himself again in equal measure. The witcher’s thumb brushes across Jaskier’s cheek and Jaskier realizes that at some point he’s started crying.
Jaskier slowly comes back to himself just in time to hear Eskel saying, “Deep breaths, Jaskier. That was the worst of it and you took it well. Now we just need to get you settled and sitting pretty for me.”
Jaskier’s reply is choked off as Eskel grabs under Jaskier’s thighs and lifts, pulling them up and over Eskel’s spread thighs so that Jaskier is no longer supporting his own weight. The sudden movement reignites the pain, and Eskel has to catch Jaskier as he lurches forward. Eskel gently guides Jaskier back upright, situating him so that he’s sitting up straight with his weight shifted back to where Eskel’s fed him his cock.
“There you go, that’s it. No more moving now, I just want you to sit here and feel me inside you, think about why you’re taking me like this instead of splayed out on my bed, writhing on my tongue,” Eskel rumbles, before unceremoniously picking up the book sitting to his left and opening to where he’d left off that morning.
Jaskier tries to do just that, he really does. He thinks about the rocks shifting beneath his feet and the sharp drop below. He tries to imagine the guilt that the other witchers would feel if he was hurt - or worse - under their care. But as the pain fades into a dull ache he finds his mind wandering into more pleasant territory, imagining that Eskel would start to roll his hips any moment now, that he would scrape his teeth down Jaskier’s neck.
It’s only minutes before Jaskier has worked himself up enough that his cock starts to take an interest in the proceedings. He unintentionally starts to rock his hips and Eskel digs his fingernails into Jaskier’s thigh in warning.
Jaskier is desperate enough that almost forgets where he is, too focused where Eskel’s cock is splitting him open. Which is when the entrance to the Great Hall is slammed open; Geralt and Lambert both back from the afternoon’s training.
Lambert notices Jaskier first and his smile turns predatory. “Well well well, pretty bird got himself into trouble, did he?”
“Sod off Lambert, we’re not playing right now,” Eskel says, not bothering to look up from his book.
Lambert cocks an eyebrow. “Seriously? What’d he do?”
Jaskier opens his mouth to answer and is rewarded with a quick smack to the balls. “You’re sitting, Jaskier. Nothing else,” Eskel chides, before answering Lambert. “He went traipsing around the East Wing without any of us to guide. He was about to break his neck before I found him.”
Lambert gapes at Jaskier. “The fuck would you do that for, bard? We’ve got enough to do around here without having to mop your blood off the stone.”
Jaskier desperately wants to apologize but Eskel’s made it clear that talking isn’t allowed. Luckily, Eskel chimes in on his behalf, “Back off the lecture, Lamb. He’s already learned his lesson. No use berating him more.”
“Could you do me a favor though?” Eskel asks, “Take a look at his hole, would you? Pretty sure he’s not hurting too bad but I’d rather be certain.”
Lambert grins and, to Jaskier’s horror, drops to his knees in front of them. He makes a show of lifting Jaskier’s balls up and out of the way as he ducks his head down to get a good look. Jaskier clenches down tighter under Lambert’s inspection, trying fruitlessly to keep whatever modicum of dignity he has left.
“You really didn’t save any for us, did you, Kel? Don’t know if I’ve ever seen him so red,” Lambert traces a finger across Jaskier’s rim. “Not seeing any blood, though, so I reckon he’s fine.”
Lambert draws back, eye level withJaskier’s now hard cock. Lambert smirks, “Looks like he’s having a pretty good time of it, actually.”
“Shouldn’t be though, that’s not the point.” Jaskier starts at Geralt’s voice appearing to his side.
“Geralt, please,” Jaskier says, not entirely sure what he’s begging for.
Geralt laughs, dropping a kiss on Jaskier’s head. “You should be glad it was Eskel that found you; I’d have beat your ass raw.”
He looks to Eskel. “You got this? I need a bath.”
“I was managing just fine before you got here, Wolf,” Eskel says. “We’ll bring him to you when we’re done.”
Geralt snorts a laugh and tips Jaskier’s head up with two fingers. “Behave for them, alright? Or you won’t come for a week.”
Jaskier whines as he shifts on Eskel’s cock, precum dripping from his slit. Lambert weighs Jaskier’s balls in his hand as Geralt turns away. “Best listen to the man, little bird. If you’re this full already we’ll have you begging to be bred before the weeks up.”
Jaskier tries to pull up and away but Eskel slams him back down, knocking the breath out of Jaskier as Eskel hits his prostate dead on. “Last warning, Jaskier: if you can’t sit still I’ll hand you off to Geralt now. bet he’ll let you squirm as much as you like while he tans your ass.”
Geralt was usually the gentlest of Jaskier’s lovers. Eskel liked it rough and Lambert had a penchant for trouble. Geralt also had the benefit of years of experience with Jaskier’s particular brand of insolence; he’s learned to pick his battles.
But that means when Geralt does find a battle worth picking, he makes sure to win. Jaskier isn’t sure his poor ass could handle it after what Eskel’s already put him through.
Jaskier stills, trying to take deep breaths as Lambert skims his fingers up and down his cock, occasionally stopping to roll Jaskier’s balls in his hand and tug at Jaskier’s rim. Knowing that Lambert is trying to get a rise out of him, the asshole, Jaskier tries to sink back into himself. He’s never been very good at this, stillness that is, but Geralt’s tried to teach him something about meditating over the years and apparently a little has sunk in. Jaskier lets his mind go hazy as Eskel adjusts his legs, pushing them further apart to spread Jaskier wider. Jaskier leans his weight back against Eskel’s chest and lets himself be moved as Lambert continues to play with his cock, pinching his foreskin closed over his head and then pulling it back down.
Eskel’s taking a more active interest in the proceedings now. His erection had flagged somewhat before the other wolves returned, but now it was thickening inside Jaskier. He pushes two fingers inside Jaskier’s mouth, prying Jaskier’s mouth open and stroking his tongue while Lambert rests his fingertips on Jaskier’s slit, thinking.
Without warning, Lambert moves, flicking a finger in the sensitive flesh right outside of Jakier’s rim. Jaskier yelps and clamps down hard in surprise, catching himself just in time before he made the disastrous mistake of biting Eskel’s fingers.
Eskel pulls his hand out and slaps Jaskier hard across the cheek. “None of that, bard. You didn’t care if you got hurt earlier so you lost your rights to complain about it now. Let him work.”
Lambert meets Jaskier’s eyes, grinning, and does it again. Prepared for it this time Jaskier manages to breath through the sharp pain, though he can’t quite stop himself from bearing down on Eskel. Eskel lets out a low goan at the movement even as he twists Jaskier’s nipple in reprimand.
“Ugh, this is a shit angle,” Lambert complains. “Hold him back for me, won’t you, Kel?”
Eskel grunts in agreement before sliding his hands under Jaskier’s knees, hoisting him up and wide until he is folded in half against Eskel’s chest. A flash of pain hits Jaskier as he tries to adjust to this new stretch but he doesn’t protest, letting the wolves move him where they will.
“Mmm, that’s better,” Lambert says, running a finger through the mess that’s dripped out of Jaskier’s hole. “A little more won’t be a problem for a pretty cunt like this, will it.” He slips a calloused finger in beside Eskel.
Eskel pulls Jaskier closer until there’s nowhere for Jaskier to go, no way to escape the heavy drag of Lambert inside him. He’s caged in, stretched further than he thinks he’s ever been, and it hurts in a heady way. There’s no point trying to wiggle away. Eskel isn’t letting him budge an inch - he’s at the wolves mercy until they’ve had their fill.
Somehow it’s this thought that starts to calm Jaskier, conscious obedience slipping away into something more hazy. He idly wonders why he’s been trying to fight so hard, when it’s so much easier just to accept whatever punishment comes his way. He can relax, he trusts them to know what he needs.
“That’s good, Jaskier. I knew you could do it,” Eskel praises, sensing the change that’s come over him. “See, you can be good for us. It’s not so hard to follow the rules.”
Lambert must agree, because he presses another finger into Jaskier soon after. Jaskier lets his head fall back against Eskel’s shoulder as Lambert works them in and out, opening them into a v shape to slip around Eskel’s cock once inside.
“Fuck, he’s wet. I bet we could both fit inside,” Lambert says.
“Sloppy hole like his? Probably,” Eskel agrees. “Would you like that, Jaskier?”
It takes Jaskier a moment to process that he’s been asked a question, but once he unravels its meaning he groans. “Fuck, yes, please. I can take it. I’ll be leaking for days.”
Eskel thrusts up at the image, the first real break in his composure. “Fuck, your mouth. Should’ve gagged you.
“He’ll take us both next time,” Eskel promises Lambert. “I started on him too hard today, we’ll have to open him up slowly if we want to push him that hard.”
Lambert huffs in annoyance. “Guess I’d rather not have Geralt kill me today. You know he’d be livid if he missed out on that show.”
Jaskier’s cock jerks, precum dripping onto Lambert’s wrist. “Fuck, Jaskier, you gonna come for us already? No one’s even touched that little cock of yours.”
“He better not,” Eskel warns. “Thought I’d made that plenty clear.”
Lambert slips his fingers out of Jaskier and says, “You might want to wrap this up then. You’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you, bard?” He slaps Jaskier’s balls for emphasis. “You can finish in me if you want,” he tells Eskel. “Make him watch before we get him cleaned off.”
Eskel eyes Lambert up and down. “Yeah, why not?” he says, moving to pull Jaskier off his cock.
Jaskier is panting before he’s even all the way out, feeling horribly empty after being filled for so long.
“No, wait,” he begs. “I need you to fuck me, please.”
Eskel pauses, effortlessly holding Jaskier’s weight. “He has been good,” Eskel tells Lambert, an unsaid question in his voice.
Lambert scoffs, then relents. “Ugh, fine. But I get the next turn. How do you want him?”
Eskel taps on Jaskier’s cheek, prompting the bard to look at him. “You still don’t come, understand?”
“Yes sir.”
Eskel nods. “Lambert, you take his legs.” Lambert pushes off the floor and gets his elbows under Jaskier’s knees, while Eskel shifts his hands down to the bard’s hips. They lift Jaskier until they stand with him pinned between them, still folded in half.
Eskel doesn’t give Jaskier any time to adjust before fucking in hard, the last hours had been foreplay enough. After a few thrusts, Jaskier realizes he has made a mistake. Eskel has the perfect angle to hit Jaskier’s prostate and gravity drags Jaskier onto his cock between every thrust. Even worse, Lambert doesn’t give an inch as Jaskier is pushed forward, so Jaskier’s cock and balls slide up Lambert’s chest with rough friction.
Eskel’s breath comes hard and short, clearly nearing his own peak. There is no way Jaskier is going to last.
Tears run down Jaskier’s face as he struggles to hold himself back. He can feel his lower abs clenching, his need becoming more insistent by the moment. But he has been so good, he refuses to fail now.
“Lambert, help me,” Jaskier begs.
Lambert cocks an eyebrow, fundamentally unable to follow a simple request without commentary. “Literally stopping you from falling on your ass here, not sure what more you want.”
Jaskier grits his teeth, because of course Lambert was going to make him spell it out.
“I need you to stop me from coming,” Jaskier says.
“Oh?” Lambert asks, smug. “You need to be used that bad, huh? Eskel’s gonna breed you full either way”--Eskel’s hips stutter behind him--“and you’re so useless you can’t even manage to just sit there and take it?”
“Lambert,” Eskel grunts, “he asked nicely.”
“No fun at all, the lot of you,” Lambert grumbles. He throws one of Jaskier’s legs over his shoulder to free up a hand and squeezes the base of Jaskier’s cock hard.
Just in time, too. Jaskier feels his body try to release only to be stopped by Lambert’s painful grip. It only takes moments longer before Eskel is following Jaskier over the edge, hot and deep inside him.
They all stand there for a moment, catching their breath before Eskel finally, finally, pulls out of Jaskier and Lambert gently lowers him to the ground. They lay there for a while, Eskel carding his fingers through Jaskier’s hair while Lambert idly plays with the mess dripping down Jaskier’s thighs.
Eskel brushes his hand down Jaskier’s cheek and says, “Just don’t do something like that again, eh? You scared me half to death.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Jaskier says, burying his head in Eskel’s chest.
“Hey, none of that now.” Eskel tips his head back up. “You took your lesson well, there’s nothing to be forgiven.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t mind me over here,” Lambert says, breaking the mood. “Still hard as a rock, but nevermind about that.”
Jaskier rocks back lightly, just to hear Lambert hiss.”Suck it up, buttercup, so am I.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“This time,” Eskel chimes in.
But that does seem to get Eskel moving, cracking his neck as he slowly sits up. “Bet you Geralt is still down in the hot springs, slowly turning into a prune. If you carry Jaskier I’ll let you fuck my thighs while Geralt cleans him up.”
“I can walk,” Jaskier protests.
“No, you really can’t,” Lambert says, raising an eyebrow. He turns to Eskel and asks,“Clean him up, eh?” Jaskier doesn’t like when Lambert gets that tone in his voice. “Bet Geralt would appreciate it if we gave him something worth cleaning.”
Jaskier yelps as he suddenly finds himself thrown over Lambert’s shoulder, ass high in the air.
“There you go, that’ll keep Eskel in there for a bit longer.” Lambert says, undeniably proud of himself.
Eskel rolls his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah, but you’re the idiot whose gonna fuck me anyway,” Lambert replies.
Jaskier just groans, burying his head in Lambert’s back. “Someone better get me in a bath before I start getting crusty or I swear none of you are touching my ass for a month.”
Lambert slaps his ass. “You heard the princess. Get a move on it, Kel, before this one decides to take a belt to your ass instead.”
“For the love of god, Lambert, don’t give Eskel any more ideas.”
“Yeah, fine. You’re lucky we love you.”
And Jaskier figures he really is.