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Geralt glowered at the bustling crowd around the pool. He shouldn’t have come here tonight. He knew how it would be, same as it always had been. But Lambert had needled him about it all week and tonight, Eskel had announced he was going, too. That meant Geralt could either sit at home alone and feel sorry for himself, or come out with his friends and feel sorry for himself at the bathhouse instead, and at least get Lambert off his back.
When they’d arrived, Eskel had disappeared to the third floor almost immediately. In the rooms that rented in four-hour blocks, a muscular build and a penchant for dominance were always welcome among those who left their doors propped open, hoping for someone to come along and rail them.
Lambert and his boyfriend dragged Geralt down to the sauna level and stayed for awhile, splashing around in the pool, kissing and groping as they got each other worked up. But after a while they headed off to the orgy room. On his way out, Lambert stopped to slap Geralt’s ass and said, “You need to relax. Ask someone for what you actually want for once.”
Geralt just grunted at him. As if Lambert had any idea what Geralt wanted. Geralt was fairly sure at least that he knew what he wanted, but getting it was another story. He stood watching other men around the pool clutch at each other, jerking each other off, sucking or fucking, coupling almost without words. Everyone seemed to know their role and how to go about getting what they wanted.
The place really was beautiful, with the kind of scale and grandeur that belonged to another century: hand-painted turkish tiles and a waterfall pouring into the other end of the pool. Certainly it was more upscale than any of the gay bars, at least the ones that would let Geralt in. The setting was just as lush as its selection of inhabitants, a neverending parade of all types, from the closeted married men to the leather daddies and the small town gays sampling the decadence of the city. And yet, no one wanted Geralt. Or at least, no one wanted to give Geralt what he liked.
It would be easier if Geralt’s tastes ran the way Eskel’s did. Already he’d been approached half a dozen times by men who saw his muscled chest and scarred face and wanted him to master them. Two of them had addressed him as daddy. He could always go to the orgy room, let people climb all over him. He could get his cock sucked for certain, likely have someone ride his dick. But he wasn’t in the mood for that, really.
So when a young man with a shaggy haircut that screamed “hippie” sidled up to him, Geralt did not feel optimistic.
“I love the way you just stand in the corner and brood,” the man said as he stopped in front of Geralt. He had a posh British accent and a clean-shaven face, boyish and smiling.
Geralt felt weary already. He glared back at the man, who did not seem intimidated in the least.
“I’ve seen you here before,” the man went on. “You never seem to be enjoying yourself, and yet you keep coming back. And so I wonder, are you looking for something you’re not getting?” The man swayed closer. He was almost as tall as Geralt, with a thick pelt of hair stretching down his chest and disappearing beneath the towel slung around the man’s hips. He planted a hand on the tile wall behind Geralt and leaned in until he was almost touching Geralt. “Well, are you?”
“Yes.” The word came out of Geralt’s mouth without him deciding to say it. It was the truth, sure, but he saw no reason to prolong a conversation that was just going to end in disappointment like every other.
“Ooo!” The man’s face lit up. “May I guess?”
“You can try,” Geralt grumbled.
“You, with that face, yes that one, scary face, those muscles, this lovely scar, people want you to overpower them, put them in their place. Any twink in here wouldn’t hesitate to drop to his knees and let you fuck his face, talk dirty to him, and come down his throat.” The man pivoted so that he stood next to Geralt, looking out at the pool. Several of the patrons were thoroughly engaged with each other, but a group of younger guys, all clean-cut and wide-eyed, had just come down the stairs. One of them was scanning the room when his eyes stopped on Geralt and he licked his lips.
“He’s thinking, oo, I’d like that brute to be my piece of rough, wreck my ass so I can’t walk tomorrow,” the stranger whispered.
Geralt sighed as the newcomer said something to his friends. They all turned to stare at him, whispering amongst themselves.
Geralt glared back at them. He knew what he looked like: dramatic white hair tied back in a ponytail, broad shoulders and the muscles earned from a lifetime of hard labor, towel valiantly clinging to his hips but not doing much to hide the bulge of his cock, white scar slicing down the left side of his face to give him a fearsome appearance. Geralt estimated he had about three minutes before the boy came over and asked Geralt to fuck him. The thought made Geralt want to scream.
“But that’s not what you like, is it?” asked the irritating man next to him. “You want someone to take you in hand for once, tell you what to do.”
Geralt turned his head sharply to look at the man. He hadn’t told anyone that, not even Eskel or Lambert. He’d barely felt out the edges of the idea in his own head. No one he’d ever met here had seemed to imagine that sort of thing could be what Geralt wanted, and yet here this stranger was offering it up on a platter.
“Well, am I right?”
Geralt should deny it. It was pure chance that this man had stumbled upon what Geralt wanted, just a lucky guess. There was no way he was going to be willing to actually give Geralt what he needed. It would all end in disappointment. But wouldn’t letting him try be better than standing here fending off the next round of twinks? Geralt nodded slowly.
“I’m Jaskier.”
“Geralt.” He dropped his towel to the tiled floor.
Instead of immediately grabbing Geralt’s cock, which Geralt had come to expect as a standard operating procedure here, Jaskier brought his hands up to cup Geralt’s face and draw him into a deep kiss.
Geralt took a moment to enjoy the soft press of Jaskier’s mouth on his, and that’s when he decided he would, in fact, let Jaskier lead the proceedings. For once Geralt wouldn't worry about where he should put his hands, how hard to grip, whether he should say anything. If this Jaskier wanted to take charge, Geralt would cede control to him, and Jaskier couldn’t complain if he didn’t get what he wanted.
“Would you like to suck me off first?” Jaskier asked. It was a real question--he was still holding Geralt’s face and looking into his eyes.
Geralt nodded. He hadn’t gotten a very good look at Jaskier’s cock, but he wanted to.
Before he could kneel, though, Jaskier caught his shoulder and said, “Wait.” He whisked off his towel, folded it over, then laid it with a flourish across the tile at his feet. “Now, here.”
Geralt knelt where he was pointed, grateful for the cushioning the towel provided. The old injury in his knee would protest if Geralt knelt too long. He could endure as much pain as he needed to, but it was nice not to have to.
Once he was in place, Geralt was treated to a close-up view of Jaskier’s cock. It was a beautiful specimen: satisfyingly big but not unwieldy, uncut, which was unusual here, and just starting to get hard. It had been awhile since Geralt had given a blowjob, which was a pity. No one seemed to expect Geralt to want to get on his knees for them. But now he had an opportunity to show what he could do.
Geralt opened his mouth and leaned forward for a taste, but stopped when a hand tangled in his hair. He looked up at Jaskier with furrowed brows. He was willing to let the man be in charge, but not if it meant Geralt didn’t get to enjoy himself.
Jaskier smiled and shook his head. “Wait. I’ll show you what to do.”
Jaskier stroked a hand through Geralt’s hair, stripping out the tie so it fell loose around Geralt’s shoulders. “What beautiful hair. So soft.” Jaskier combed his fingers through it again, then scratched gently at Geralt’s scalp. Geralt’s eyes drifted closed at the sensation. Above him, Jaskier gave a thoughtful hum. “You like being petted.”
Geralt felt his cheeks heat, and tried to duck his head. Jaskier put a finger under Geralt’s chin and urged him to look back up. “I’m glad you like it. I’m trying to figure out what you like so I can give it to you, alright?”
Geralt nodded slowly, though he wasn’t sure what Jaskier really meant. When people had agreed to do this with Geralt before, what they usually wanted was to find out what Geralt would tolerate: what they liked that Geralt was willing to do. This seemed to be rather a backwards way for Jaskier to get to where he was headed, but Geralt decided not to object. After all, it did feel good.
He kept his eyes on Jaskier’s face as Jaskier tied Geralt’s hair band around his wrist, then set about scritching his fingers across Geralt’s head and combing gently through his hair. After a few moments, Geralt’s eyes drifted closed. He listed forward, pressing a cheek against Jaskier’s thigh and relaxing into him.
Geralt didn’t think anyone had ever taken their time with him like this. In the army, it had always been quick and furtive, sneaking a handjob or a suck job as fast as you could and hoping the other guy wouldn’t report you. Once they’d been shipped out, it had seemed like a holiday at first, out from under the watchful eyes of the top brass. Geralt had gotten in some memorable encounters when two or three of them were sent out to patrol a sleepy stretch of jungle or left to watch the camp. But soon enough they’d all become too disgusted and numb to care about getting off together.
Back here should have been better. Lambert and Eskel certainly thought it was. But the anonymous cruising, quick fucks in clubs, or hookups who always left directly afterwards no matter how late at night put Geralt in mind of the bad old days of sneaking around the base, playing lookout for anyone who might give them away. The bathhouse was a bit better in that no one cared who was watching. All kinds of people came here and fucked without any shame, usually quickly and to the point. But this, whatever Jaskier was doing, was different.
“Yes, you definitely like that,” Jaskier said. “Ready for more?”
Geralt nodded easily against Jaskier’s skin.
“Open up for me.”
Geralt parted his lips, and Jaskier’s hand in his hair guided him forward to take Jaskier’s hardening cock in his mouth. He had expected that Jaskier would drag him all the way down to see how much he could take. But at first Jaskier simply held him in place, letting Geralt suck at the head of his cock and tongue against the slit. It felt quite novel to take his time like this, not be desperately striving to make someone come as fast as possible.
“More?” Jaskier asked.
When Geralt nodded, Jaskier began to guide Geralt in a bobbing motion up and down his cock: not too deep and not too fast. “Use your hands. There, that’s a good boy.”
Geralt shuddered at the praise, sliding so easily from Jaskier’s mouth. No one had called Geralt “good” or anything like it, in years. His sergeant had thought he was good: fast, strong, a crack shot. But Geralt had very quickly figured out that shooting men was not something he wanted to be good at. Bosses on every job he’d had since the army scolded him for being too slow, getting lost in the details or overwhelmed by too much noise and rush. And in bed, no one wanted him to be “good.” They wanted him to be hard and rough, even mean.
“You still with me, love?”
Geralt blinked and raised his eyes to Jaskier, who was looking down at him as if he were genuinely pleased with Geralt’s efforts, which so far hadn’t shown nearly the extent of his abilities. He couldn’t quite manage a nod with his mouth stretched around Jaskier’s cock, but he made a passable attempt.
“Good.” Jaskier began moving Geralt again by the grip in his hair. “Your mouth feels wonderful, by the way. So sweet and wet. I’d love to just stay here all night with your mouth on me, keeping me warm. But you want something else, don’t you?”
Geralt made a tiny, affirmative sound and closed his eyes. He would stay here all night if Jaskier asked him to, so long as Jaskier kept looking at him like the cat that got the cream and guiding Geralt to do exactly what Jaskier wanted. Geralt’s cock was hard between his legs, just from being used like this. He could make himself useful for Jaskier on his knees. But yes, a greedy little part of him wanted more, wanted to see what else Jaskier had in mind.
“I’ll guess, and you’ll tell me if I’m right, hm?” Jaskier asked. Geralt opened his eyes and looked up, hardly daring to hope that Jaskier could again guess what it was he wanted. “You want to be fucked, want someone to hold you down and give it to you hard.”
Geralt groaned and pushed as far down Jaskier’s cock as Jaskier’s grip on him would allow. He pressed a hand against his own hard cock as the words burned through him. He couldn’t get too excited yet. Just because Jaskier had guessed that’s what Geralt wanted didn’t mean he was going to do it.
“That a yes?” Jaskier asked. “You would look so incredibly pretty filled up with cock. I bet you can take it so, so well.”
Geralt sucked frantically, somehow thinking if he could do a good enough job with this, Jaskier might give him what he was describing.
“Oh, but wait,” Jaskier said, sounding disappointed, and Geralt’s heart sank. “One wouldn’t be enough for you, would it, you greedy little thing?” Jaskier ruffled his hand in Geralt’s hair. “You want as many cocks as you can get. You want to be fucked until you can’t take it any more. Oh, I can just see it. Beautiful, you coming and coming, losing yourself in pleasure. You’d be such a good little fucktoy.”
Geralt could see it, too: being held down and used, unable to do anything but lie there as men took their pleasure. Not having to decide anything or guess what they wanted, just making himself available for them to do with as they wished. Maybe one of them would tell him he’d done well, after. The thrill that ran through Geralt at that thought had his hips bucking up seeking friction. He dug his fingers into Jaskier’s ass and swallowed him all the way down, heedless of Jaskier’s attempts to hold him back by the grip on his hair.
“Geralt! Oh fuck, I’m going to--”
Geralt tightened his grip, pushed down to bury his nose in Jaskier’s dark pubic hair, and didn’t hear the rest. Jaskier made a strangled, inarticulate sound, and Geralt moved his head briskly up and down, relentlessly milking Jaskier’s climax out of him. Jaskier came in pulses down Geralt’s throat, cursing and shaking.
When Geralt had swallowed all Jaskier had to give, Jaskier grabbed hold of Geralt’s shoulders to hold himself up, which unfortunately had the effect of pulling his cock out of Geralt’s mouth and out of reach. But Geralt had done that, had given Jaskier an orgasm that made him weak in the knees.
“Well,” Jaskier panted after a moment. “That rather puts a damper on my plans.”
The happy glow of achievement faded somewhat as Geralt hung his head. “Sorry,” he muttered, sinking back to sit cross-legged on the tile.
“Oh, don’t be, darling. Not your fault your cocksucking skills are too good.” He dropped to a crouch in front of Geralt, cradled Geralt’s cheek in his hand and bestowed a lingering kiss, heedless of the taste of his own come in Geralt’s mouth. “However, I’m not nineteen any more, and I did desperately want to fuck you.”
“Please,” Geralt said immediately. He’d expected that Jaskier would move on now that he’d gotten what he wanted, but Geralt found himself leaning towards Jaskier like a flower to the light, longing for more of those gentle touches, the hard fucking he’d spoken of, or possibly a word of praise.
“Alright then.” Jaskier slid forward to straddle Geralt’s lap and deliver another, shorter kiss. “Will you tell me something?”
“Hm,” Geralt replied. He braced himself for a question about his scars, or a question about one of his friends, or perhaps, Geralt thought glumly, the revelation that Jaskier was a sex worker looking for clients, and that if Geralt wanted more, he’d have to pay for it.
“Fantasies are sometimes just that, and god knows I would never hold someone to anything they agreed to during dirty talk,” Jaskier said with a cheeky grin. “But I would genuinely enjoy seeing you get fucked into exhaustion. And I know there’d be no difficulty in finding men here who’d love to fuck you.”
“No difficulty?” Geralt grumbled. That had not been his experience.
“None at all,” Jaskier said with complete confidence. “However, if you’d rather we simply occupy ourselves until I’m able to give you a proper fucking, that’s fine.” Jaskier reached between them and wrapped his hand loosely around Geralt’s cock. “Or I could just return the favor you’ve done me and then piss off.”
Geralt found that his mouth was watering, so he swallowed quickly. What Jaskier had said--Geralt’s cock twitched thinking of it. It wasn’t that Geralt had never been fucked multiple times in one night. He’d gone to the leather bar with Eskel a few times and made himself available in the dark room there, but being an anonymous hole to fuck wasn’t the same as someone wanting to fuck him in particular. The idea of Jaskier watching him, of enjoying the sight of Geralt being fucked, sent pulses of arousal through him.
“I want that,” Geralt croaked.
“Which one?”
“I want you to watch. And,” he added quickly, “you should fuck me last.”
“Oh, with pleasure.” Jaskier curled a hand around the back of Geralt’s neck and held him in place for another thorough kiss, with Geralt accepted hungrily. He’d made the right choice, then. “Come on, let’s find a more comfortable spot.”
Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s hand and led him away from the pool, pausing to swipe an unattended jar of vaseline sitting on the arm of a plastic chair. Jaskier led him into a large room Geralt hadn’t seen before, tiled in blue and white. At one end, a large hot tub played host to half a dozen men variously intertwined. Others lounged on chairs, watching. Several mattresses were laid out on a raised dais along one wall. Many of these were already occupied, but Jaskier led Geralt down to one at the end with no current occupants.
“On your back to start,” Jaskier said.
Geralt scrambled to comply, laying himself out for Jaskier, though he wished he’d thought to grab his towel, perhaps cover up some of the worst scars so Jaskier wouldn’t have to look at them.
“Oh, that’s a lovely sight,” Jaskier sighed. He stood looking Geralt over, and Geralt resisted the urge to fidget under his gaze. “I’d take a pin-up of this any day. But. I won’t keep you waiting.”
He crawled between Geralt’s knees and propped Geralt’s calf on his shoulder. The vaseline was already open, and he watched Geralt’s face as he reached under Geralt’s balls to tease at his hole with a slick finger. “Now, before we get started, anyone in here I shouldn’t invite to fuck you? Vindictive exes, hated rivals?”
One had to have captured the interest of someone enough to be a regular lover before one could properly have an ex, and Geralt never had. Anyone else, he didn’t care. He shook his head.
“Right, then.” Jaskier prepared him unhurriedly and expertly, as if he had nothing better to do on a busy Saturday night at the baths than to help some pathetic stranger fulfill his need for cock. “That feel good?”
Geralt nodded and tried to push up, take more.
“None of that, thank you very much.” Jaskier planted a hand on Geralt’s hip to hold him in place. Geralt could have broken Jaskier’s grip easily--he was stronger, after all--but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be good for Jaskier. He settled down and patiently took what Jaskier gave him until he was squirming on three of Jaskier’s fingers. “You want to come now, or when they’re fucking you?”
“Not now,” Geralt panted. He could have come any time--would have come, if Jaskier had touched his cock. But enduring the ache of arousal felt like an accomplishment, and he wanted Jaskier to see what he could do, wanted to impress him.
“If that’s what you want,” Jaskier said, but he was grinning as he said it, so Geralt hadn’t given the wrong answer. “You ready, then?”
At Geralt’s nod, Jaskier sat up and scanned the room. Geralt kept his eyes on Jaskier, knowing that it didn’t really matter who Jaskier picked. Jaskier was really the one fucking Geralt, and anyone else was only a tool he was using to do it. Jaskier made an ambiguous gesture and a series of facial expressions Geralt couldn’t parse before looking down at Geralt again. “Turn over. Here, put your ass up, so everyone can see how lovely it is. Chest down here, that’s a good boy. Just wait, I’m going to make you feel so good.”
Geralt did as Jaskier asked, holding back a shiver of excitement at Jaskier’s words.
The mattress dipped as someone else joined them. “Julian, nice to see you.”
“Mm. My lovely friend here needs more than I can provide,” Jaskier said. “Might you be capable of assisting?”
“I think I could handle that,” said the stranger, who had a smooth baritone. “Just tell me where you want me.”
Jaskier directed the man to kneel behind Geralt, and just like that Geralt felt the press of a cock entering him.
“Oh, that’s quite a sight,” Jaskier said. “Just like you were made for this. Easy now, give him a moment to adjust. That’s right. Geralt, you okay?” Jaskier appeared at his side, petting a hand down his cheek.
Geralt whined deep in his throat. He was okay except for this not being enough. He needed to be fucked properly.
“Ah, I see,” Jaskier said, and looked back at the man behind Geralt. “Well, you’ll just have to give it to him as hard as you can. Can you manage that?”
The man pulled out and then slammed back into Geralt. Soon Geralt was clutching at the mattress as the man plowed into him enthusiastically.
“He likes a firm hand, see? And the dear deserves to get what he likes.” Jaskier petted a hand through Geralt’s hair as the man fucked him so hard he slid forward on the mattress. “Oh, hang on. Allow me.” Jaskier swung around to sit cross-legged before Geralt, and guided Geralt’s face into his lap. “Right. Now go ahead.”
The man resumed fucking Geralt, and instead of sliding, Geralt was only pressed against Jaskier’s strong grip on his shoulders. The man’s thrusts seemed to go deeper, and Geralt groaned against Jaskier’s thigh. “There, that’s better,” Jaskier said.
Geralt floated on a sensation high was he was held in place for a good, rough fuck. When at last the man groaned and spilled his load into Geralt, Geralt felt a rush of disappointment. The man, whose face Geralt hadn’t even seen, pulled out and disappeared, leaving Geralt empty.
“Don’t worry, I don’t intend to leave you wanting.” Jaskier raised his chin, and Geralt craned his neck around to see a line of men had formed behind the mattress. He burrowed back into Jaskier’s lap with a pleased hum and held on as the next one knelt, got into position, and slid home. And the one after that, too.
The fucking felt good, of course it did. Geralt never got fucked as hard or as often as he wanted, but tonight he was coming close. Through it all Jaskier kept touching him--a brush of his fingers against Geralt’s forehead pushing back his hair, his lips pressing kisses to Geralt’s shoulder, his hand twined with Geralt’s as he was pounded into the mattress. And Jaskier kept up a constant stream of encouragement and praise, telling Geralt how pretty he looked split open on a cock, how the desperate little sounds Geralt made were music to Jaskier’s ears, how Geralt was being such a good boy for him.
While Geralt was on all fours, with Jaskier petting a hand down his back and a bearded man with a short, thick cock rutting into him, Geralt arched his back just so and gasped. He hadn’t bothered to touch his dick since he’d told Jaskier he’d wait, and he hadn’t needed to--everything else felt so damn good. But this man’s cock hit him just right again and again, and Geralt only had time to stammer an inarticulate warning before he was coming, spilling in ropey spurts onto the mattress below him.
“Oh fuck, what a gorgeous sight,” Jaskier said with a note of awe. “Hold on a second, Zoltan.”
The man fucking Geralt stopped, though he cursed under his breath in a language Geralt didn’t recognize.
“I can keep going,” Geralt panted. He was trembling, and everywhere Jaskier or the other man touched him felt like a low electric current passing through his skin. But he didn’t want to interrupt Jaskier’s fun. “Don’t have to stop.”
“It shouldn’t hurt when he fucks you,” Jaskier said. “We’ll give you just a moment.” He turned to the man buried inside Geralt. “Doesn’t he look amazing when he comes?”
“He does indeed,” the other man said. “Pretty as a picture. And he feels amazing, too. Be happy to fuck him every day, and twice on Sundays.”
“I imagine he’d enjoy that.” Jaskier beamed down at him. “Would you, Geralt?”
Geralt whined, but couldn’t find the words to express that yes, that sounded wonderful, but that someone needed to start fucking him again now.
“Impatient, love? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get what you need,” Jaskier said, stroking a hand down Geralt’s back. “Go ahead, Zoltan.”
Jaskier was, in fact, giving Geralt what he needed, which was much more than Geralt had dared to hope. None of these men had ever approached Geralt on his own to offer a fuck, but with Jaskier here, suddenly Geralt was wanted.
Some time later he had come again, he was pretty sure, or maybe twice more, when he heard a familiar voice approaching through the line of men waiting.
“Let me through. I’m a friend.”
Another man had just finished coming inside him, and Geralt was on his side, sipping some kind of alcohol with ice in it as Jaskier held the glass. Someone crouched in front of Geralt, and it took a few blinks to resolve the image before him into the face of Lambert’s boyfriend.
“Aiden. Hello,” Geralt said.
“You alright?” Aiden asked. His narrowed eyes scanned down Geralt’s body.
“Mm. Lambert told me I needed to relax, remember?”
“Yeah, I do.” Aiden said. “You take something?”
Geralt was pretty sure he hadn’t. This floaty feeling that buoyed him up was a lot like being high, except without the actual drugs. He shook his head. “Jaskier is helping me relax.”
“Hi. Jaskier,” Jaskier said, sticking out his hand.
“Hi,” Aiden shook Jaskier’s hand and held on. “Aiden.”
“You’re Lambert’s boyfriend?” Jaskier asked, and when Aiden nodded warily, he said. “I’m Pris’s roommate!”
“Ohhhhhh!” Aiden’s expression shifted, and Geralt thought it looked something like satisfaction. “Oh, I see.” He looked back down at Geralt. “So you’re enjoying yourself?”
“Starting to understand why you like coming here,” Geralt said.
“Alright, pretty boy.” Aiden chuckled. “Take a break if you need one. And drink water. You know what a dick Lambert is about hangovers.” Aiden patted Geralt’s cheek and stood. “Sorry. Just wanted to check on him.”
“No apology necessary.”
“We have a room--244,” Aiden said. “When you’re finished--”
“I’ll make sure he gets cleaned up,” Jaskier said.
“Have fun.” Aiden gave Geralt another grin, then walked away.
After a wave from Jaskier, the next man in line stepped up to take his turn. Things did get blurrier after that, though Jaskier did pause the action at one point to get Geralt to drink some water.
“You want to keep going?” Jaskier asked then, holding Geralt curled against his chest.
Geralt nodded against Jackier’s shoulder. Being treated like this was rather like alcohol, he was finding: the more he got, the more he wanted. “Please,” he said quietly.
“Hm, what would you think of testing your limits a bit?” Jaskier reached his hand around Geralt to press two fingers into Geralt’s thoroughly stretched ass. “You want to try a really big cock?”
“Mm.” Geralt wriggled against Jaskier’s fingers. He wondered if Jaskier would put his whole hand inside him, if he asked. But maybe that wasn’t polite. Jaskier chuckled and pressed a kiss to his head.
“Alright, then.” Jaskier scanned the row of waiting men over Geralt’s shoulder. “You, you’ll do.” Geralt turned to see Jaskier nodding to an exceedingly broad, bald man, who was palming a very impressive hardon.
“If he wants it, let him ride me,” the bald man said in a gravelly voice.
“Ooo, yes, that I’d like to see.” Jaskier clapped his hands excitedly. The hulking man settled on the edge of the dais, and Jaskier handed him the half-empty jar of vaseline before getting Geralt arranged straddling the man’s lap while Geralt shivered with pleasurable anticipation of his task.
“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Jaskier said, dropping a kiss onto Geralt’s cheek. He guided Geralt up onto his knees with a hand on his elbow, and then steadied him as Geralt sank down onto the largest cock he’d taken yet tonight, or possibly ever.
Geralt wanted to make sure Jaskier was enjoying what he was seeing, so he made himself take it slow, easing himself down with gravity’s help. The stretch was just on the edge of uncomfortable, enough that a pleasurable thrill of danger shivered through Geralt, and he breathed out slowly to make himself relax and take more. He let it in and let it in until he was fully seated.
“Fuck, he does take it well, doesn’t he?” the bald man said, sounding a bit strangled.
“He’s a treasure,” Jaskier agreed, brushing a hand down Geralt’s back. “Do you want to ride him, darling?”
Oh yes, Geralt certainly did. As he rose up and the massive cock slid out, leaving only the head lodged inside him, Geralt kept his eyes on Jaskier. He dropped down and rose again, faster this time, and again, until he had a steady rhythm going that made him groan each time the cock hit the right spot. He barely looked at the man fucking him, instead watching Jaskier watch him and delight in the sight of Geralt getting fucked exactly the way he wanted to be.
“Oh fuck, Geralt, you look amazing bouncing on his dick.” Jaskier was stroking his own cock now, his eyes on Geralt’s stretched ass. “You’re taking it so well. I swear, that thing’s the size of my arm. God, he has you split wide open.”
A minute later--or maybe an hour, it was hard to tell--the man dug his fingers into Geralt’s ass to slam him down once more and held Geralt in place as he came, throwing his head back and moaning as he emptied himself. Geralt wriggled on the man’s lap, enjoying the feeling of the man’s massive cock filling him and keeping an eye on Jaskier, who was watching with evident delight.
“Oh yes, that’s done it all right.” Jaskier put a hand on Geralt’s arm and urged him up. When the man’s softening cock slid out of him, come gushed from Geralt’s well-used hole. “Oh, I could watch that all day,” Jaskier sighed.
Geralt thought muzzily that he’d be happy to oblige Jaskier at any time he wished, but he couldn’t quite form that thought into words.
After that, Jaskier laid Geralt down on his belly on the mattress. Geralt pillowed his head on his arms and stretched, feeling loose and easy, ready for whatever came next. Jaskier exchanged a few words, maybe with the bald man or someone else, then came and stretched out next to Geralt with his head propped up on his hand. He carded his fingers through Geralt’s sweat-damp hair
“Geralt, you’re so good. Look at how much you’re taking. You’re beautiful laid out like this,” Jaskier crooned. “Are you finished?”
“I c’n take more,” Geralt slurred. He wasn’t in pain yet, really, though he could feel his muscles starting to protest at the pounding he’d been taking. Usually, nobody fucked Geralt like this. But they did when Jaskier said so, and Jaskier was here watching him, enjoying the sight. Geralt was pleasing him. He could go on as long as Jaskier wanted.
“I’m sure you can.” Jaskier petted his hair back from Geralt’s forehead. “But I want you to feel good. I want you to have as much as you want, but not more than that.”
“You like watching me get fucked?” Geralt asked. He wanted to hear that Jaskier was enjoying this. Jaskier had been telling Geralt how good he looked, but if that wasn’t doing anything for Jaskier, then Geralt needed to figure out how he could make it up to him for all he’d given Geralt.
“You know I do,” Jaskier said. “You’re the most beautiful sight I’ve seen in years.”
“I can keep going,” Geralt insisted. No one called him beautiful. He’d keep taking men all night and all day if Jaskier would call him that again.
“I believe you,” Jaskier said solemnly. “But if I may, I’d like to fuck you. I want to make you feel good, and I don’t want it to hurt.”
“Oh. Yes.” Of course Geralt wanted that. He’d shown Jaskier what he could take, but he wanted Jaskier to be able to enjoy it himself. He also wanted to be awake and aware enough to feel it. “I want you to fuck me, please.”
“I will.” Jaskier pressed a kiss to his forehead. “God, Geralt, you’re such a good boy for me. I’m so lucky I get to see you like this. Now, let me look at you.” He shifted to straddle Geralt’s thighs, settled his hands on Geralt’s ass and used his thumbs to spread Geralt’s cheeks, revealing his hole. “Oh, Geralt, you’re positively dripping. They’ve stretched you out so well. You’re gorgeous like this.” Jaskier eased three fingers into Geralt, and they met almost no resistance. “I loved seeing you take all those men. I’m very lucky indeed to have come across such an extraordinary creature. If you don’t mind, I'd very much like to be inside you now.”
“Please,” Geralt groaned. For all that he’d taken so far, he wanted Jaskier badly, wanted to be of use in this way, wanted Jaskier to have this pleasure instead of just indulging Geralt by convincing others to fuck him.
“Turn over. I want to see you.”
With effort, Geralt managed to flop onto his back. Jaskier stroked his hands down Geralt’s chest, which still sported drops of come from one of his previous orgasms--Geralt had lost track of which one.
“You’ve been so good for me tonight. I can’t remember when I’ve had this much fun.”
“I never have,” Geralt said, which, after it was out of his mouth, thought it might not be the type of thing one should admit. But Jaskier only bent down and kissed Geralt quite thoroughly, so it probably hadn’t been such a terrible thing to say.
“Ready?” Jaskier asked, once he’d spent a small eternity kissing Geralt. From this close, his blue eyes sparkled in the reflected light off the water.
“Please,” Geralt said again.
Jaskier hoisted Geralt’s legs up over his shoulders and angled forward to slide inside. Geralt arched his back, sighing at the easy penetration, his body so open and ready Jaskier hardly had to make an effort.
“God, it’s so fucking wet,” Jaskier said as he began to move. “Do you know how many men came in you tonight? I confess, I lost count. I loved seeing the look on your face every time you had a new cock in you. If it was up to me, I’d keep you here always and bring in as many men as you needed to make sure you’re never left wanting. I’d take such good care of you--fuck. You feel so good, filled up with all this come. How does it feel?”
Geralt made an unintelligible noise. He wanted to say that it felt amazing, felt filthy in the best of ways, felt like Jaskier laying claim to him, but words were far beyond him now. His own climax was building rapidly, spurred on as much by what Jaskier was saying as his movements.
Jaskier leaned down and curled a hand around Geralt’s cock. “Will you come for me? I want you to come with me inside you.”
Geralt moaned as Jaskier stroked him in time with his thrusts, alight with the joy of both being filled and being held. He could give Jaskier what he wanted, show Jaskier how much he liked it. And with another thrust that hit him just right, Geralt did so. His cock spurted only a dribble of semen onto his belly, but the rush of his climax went on and on as he writhed under Jaskier, the pleasure spinning out like a spool of thread to the very end.
“Fuck, that’s…” Jaskier moaned, watching Geralt with a feverish brightness. He pulled out and stroked his cock in fast, short movements. Then, with a shout, he spilled his seed to mingle with Geralt’s. He reached down to smear a hand through the mess with a beatific expression before collapsing onto Geralt’s chest.
Geralt could feel Jaskier’s racing heartbeat and his labored breaths slowing as he came back to himself. Geralt had done that. He’d given Jaskier something he wanted, and Jaskier had taken care of Geralt’s needs in return. He felt...satisfied. Not disappointed, for once, but as if he may have actually gotten what he wanted.
“Oh fuck,” Jaskier said at last. “That was so incredibly hot. Good lord, you can’t possibly be real.”
Geralt thought he should be the one saying that, but words were impossible. In fact, he might drift off for a moment. He’d just close his eyes.
“No no, not yet.” Jaskier pushed himself up and rolled off of Geralt. “Ugh, wet spot. Ngh. No, you can’t pass out yet. I have to get you back to your friends before they think I kidnapped you!” He swayed to his feet and reached down a hand. “Up you get. A warm shower first. Then you can lie down, and if you don’t object, I can lay on top of you for a bit.”
Geralt grumbled, but it was mostly for form’s sake, and he got up and let Jaskier take his hand to lead him to the shower room. Once they were under the warm spray, surrounded by other patrons who were paying them no attention at all, Geralt said, “Jaskier?”
“Hm?” Jaskier said, looking up from where he was scrubbing off his thighs.
Geralt thought he should say something to make Jaskier understand how much Geralt had enjoyed what Jaskier had done for him. But all he could come up with was, “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure, truly. Most fun I’ve had in quite awhile.” Jaskier helped Geralt rinse the last of the soap from his back. Then he turned off the water and hesitated, looking over at Geralt furtively. “Geralt, do you think you’ll be here next week?”
Geralt stared. He’d just been working on committing tonight’s events to memory, as he didn’t expect to ever get the chance to have his needs so thoroughly fulfilled ever again. Surely now that Jaskier had gotten what he wanted, he had other things he wanted to try, men who were more handsome, more articulate, more worthy of his time. But if Jaskier was offering, Geralt would be a fool to turn him down. He managed to say, “If you’ll fuck me again, yeah.”
“Well then.” Jaskier’s smile shone brightly even through the steam. "It’s a date.” Jaskier turned and led on, and Geralt followed.