Jaskier's Bow

"The hound master is getting up in years, and his sons don't seem to have a brain to share between them. I think it would be a good fit for you. Tomorrow you can report to the kennels and learn how to care for the hunting dogs. Maybe if you're good enough, you can keep one of the next pups for yourself. Every boy should have a dog, don't you think dear?" his father says, turning towards his mother. Jaskier lets out a sigh of relief, because this is honestly the best possible scenario. He's obviously geared towards the job, and it's nothing like the ledgers and reports he'd imagined he'd be stuck with.

"Do we really want him around the hounds all day long?" Jaskier's mother asks, poorly concealed panic in her eyes. His father doesn't bother giving her a glance, though. He just declares the matter settled, and Jaskier is told to report to the stables after breakfast in the morning. He understands his mother's worry, but it's not like spending more time around dogs will make him any odder than he already is.

It doesn't take long for Jaskier to fall into a routine. Geoffrey, the hound master, is friendly and good at teaching him. He quickly figures out the best way to handle the large hunting dogs and preens under all the praise he's given. Even his father thinks he's doing a fine job, and he promises him pick of the next litter. He can't believe he'll have a dog of his own and wonders how it will feel to shift and curl up on his bed with his new friend. He can't speak with the dogs when he's shifted, but they seem to recognize him. He can get little hints of feelings, knows how to figure out what each bark and tail wag means. All in all, it's a fantastic time to be him.

And then one morning he shows up to the kennels and his whole world is flipped on its head.

He's a bit early today, but the dogs are always so excited to see him that it's hard to linger over his morning meal. When Jaskier steps into the kennels, he hears a weird grunt and follows the sound to the back of the building. He stops dead in his tracks, gut churning as he sees the hound master's youngest son William balls deep in one of the breeding bitches. Jaskier's eyes go wide as William looks at him, not even bothering to stop fucking the dog.

"A cunt's a cunt," William finally says, and it's all Jaskier can do to get his feet moving. He mumbles an excuse and scurries away, his mind reeling at what he's just seen. He feels like he should feel ashamed, or feel worried for the dog, but all he feels is desire. His little cock is hard and throbbing in his trousers, and he knows that his life has changed forever. He'd never thought about actually being with one of the dogs that way, but fuck if he doesn't want it more than anything now. He shifts into a dog and scampers into the woods, needing to be alone for a bit.

He feels weird, and it takes him a few moments to realize that his cock is hard, even though he hasn't shifted back. He flops onto his back and manages to catch sight of it, the tiny red cock poking out of its sheath, wet and dribbling onto his fur. The shock of it shifts him back and he's tugging at the laces of his trousers before he even realizes what he's doing.

Jaskier has touched himself before - he dares any young man not to - but it's never felt like this, has never been this frantic. All he can picture is William fucking into the dog and how pleased she seemed. It wasn't the faint aggression of when the male dogs are breeding her. There was no fighting it, no rough claws holding her down as a stud bred her. No, she almost seemed to enjoy it as much as William did.

It doesn't take long for him to shoot off, and Jaskier coats his fingers with his own seed while he imagines what it could feel like to take one of the bitches like that. He collapses back onto the grass, not even bothering to clean up since he knows he'll most likely spend the rest of the morning getting himself off. His cock isn't even fully soft, and there's a fire burning in his gut when he pictures being the one to hold the dog down and sink into her. He would make it just as good as William did. He just knows it. It would be rude not to take care of your partner, even if she is a dog.

Just the thought of fingering one of the dogs open, of sinking his small fingers into one of their wet cunts, is enough to have him hard and throbbing again. Fuck, he knows he can't let this one go. Thankfully he has the perfect excuse to spend as much time in the kennels as he wants. He pumps himself again, sloppily fucking into his own fist, and pictures which one of the dogs he'll start with. By the time he returns home that afternoon, he's a mess and can barely make it to bed before passing out into the best sleep he's ever had.

---

The problem is, once Jaskier starts thinking about fucking one of the hunting dogs, he can't stop. He knows most people his age are starting to kiss each other or even working their way up to fooling around, but he's put off by that. He knows his mother has kept him sheltered, but he's an odd child. No one seems to want to play with him, and his best friends are the dogs and the old hound master. Maybe he'll grow out of it, but all he wants right now is to find a way to make it happen. Melitele knows he can't be as brazen as William is. What would his father think if someone caught him buried in one of the bitches?

Thankfully, it's easy for Jaskier to sneak out of the house at night. He immediately shifts into his dog form and heads towards the kennels. It's been a week since he saw William fucking one of the female dogs, and it's taken this long for him to work himself up to it. If thinking about how amazing it would be feels so good, doing it must be even better. Jaskier sniffs around, making sure no one else is around, and then shifts back to himself. He leans back against the door, heart pounding in his chest, and reaches back to lock it.

The dogs are mostly asleep, but a few of them perk up when he enters. The male and female dogs are kept separate, so Jaskier heads towards the female pen. He's seen how the studs breed, and he's not sure his body could take that kind of roughness. The thought of it stirs something in his gut, though, so who knows what the future might bring? But tonight he has his eyes set on something softer.

"Evening ladies," Jaskier murmurs as he walks into the enclosure. Most stay sleeping, but one of the younger ones wanders over to him and starts pawing at him for pets. The old hound master never lets him name the dogs, but he feels like that will be the first rule he changes when he takes over. "Aren't you a pretty one? I'll call you Beauty," Jaskier tells her before dropping to his knees and running his hands over her soft fur.

Jaskier has thought about this so much, but now that he's here, he's suddenly so nervous. What if Beauty doesn't want him? He doesn't want to hurt her. She's a ball of excitement, trying to crawl into his lap and licking his chin as he laughs and pets her. Deciding it's best to just jump right in, he starts petting lower and lower until his fingers find her opening. She tilts her head at him, but rolls onto her back to show him her belly. And if that isn't an invitation, he doesn't know what is.

A little more sure of himself, Jaskier circles her hole with a finger, his arm trembling as he tries to see what she likes. Beauty is squirming beneath him, and her leg rubs against the front of his pants, and he realizes he's never been so hard in his whole life. He whines and sinks a finger inside of her, eyes widening at how wet she is already. He's heard about this - dirty tales from the older men - but he's never touched something as soft and perfect as a cunt before.

He has to take a second and undo his laces, palming his leaking cock as he works his fingers inside of her. Beauty writhes excitedly, and he's sure she likes this, likes him. He may not know much about any of this, but he swears to make it good for her. "You're so tight, dear," he whispers in awe, not sure how even his small prick will fit inside of her. But instinct guides him, and he adds another finger, pumping them as he stretches her open for him.

Just when he thinks he won't last anymore, Beauty lets out a bark and rolls onto her belly, coming up to stand on all fours. Jaskier stares down at his wet fingers for a moment before bringing them up to his mouth. She tastes salty and bitter, and he decides he loves it. He's heard about adults using their mouths on each other. Maybe he'll try that next time. For now, though, it's quite clear that she is ready for him. He knows a breeding stance when he sees one.

"Such a good girl for me," he tells her as he shoves his trousers down further. He kneels behind her, not entirely sure what he's doing, but all he wants to feel is her tight heat wrapped around his prick. He pumps himself a couple of times before moving closer and seeking her out. He rubs the tip of his cock against her folds, groaning as she bucks back against him. It takes a few tries, but he manages to slip inside of her, nearly blowing his load right then and there.

"Oh fuck," Jaskier moans out, hanging his head as he tries to keep control of himself. Beauty's cunt feels amazing around him, hot and wet and so fucking tight he could cry. No wonder people love this. He gives himself a moment to get used to the feeling and then gives a tentative roll of his hips. She bucks back against him, and he whimpers and grabs her hips tightly, his fingers buried in her fur.

And then it's like he loses control of his own body. All he can do is hang onto Beauty as his hips start moving, his body rocking against her. She feels so fucking good around him, and he knows he isn't going to take long to come. She's panting beneath him, her tongue hanging out as he fucks her. He likes to think she's enjoying this, that he's better than all the studs who had had their way with her. No one loves the dogs as much as Jaskier does. No one gets them like he does.

He moves faster, thrusting harder and harder as he feels his orgasm building in his spine. He bends down and presses his face against her soft fur, crying out as his hips snap one last time and he spills inside of her. He keeps moving, riding it out as he empties himself in her tight heat. Once he's done, he collapses to the side, panting and looking up at her in awe. She leans down and laps at his face, and he slides his tongue against hers in a mockery of a kiss. He sends another shiver through him, and he cock twitches against his stomach.

Jaskier watches as Beauty spins in a circle and then lays down to lick herself clean. The sight of his seed dripping out of her is almost enough to get him going again. But he's too sensitive and he's just lost his virginity to one of his hunting dogs. He knows he's changed for life, but he wouldn't have it any other way. One of the other dogs wanders over and starts sniffing at him, and Jaskier doesn't have it in him to bat her away. He leans up on his elbows and watches as she licks the mess from his soft prick. He sobs silently - too much too soon - and curls a hand over his mouth as he lays there and lets her clean him up.

He wonders how it would feel when he's shifted. Would the dogs like him better like that? Would he be able to feel their pleasure more? He has no idea if Beauty enjoyed herself, but it sure seems like she might have. He will have to try shifting next time, but he's too worn out for the hard shift tonight. His cock stirs under this new dog's tongue, and he grins down at her, cooing as he barks happily at him.

It's going to be a long night.

—

By the time Jaskier is 15, the dogs seem to have accepted him as part of their pack. They love him as both human and dog, and he spends far too many nights curled up happily among them. He's fucked nearly every one of the breeding bitches, and makes sure they get as much pleasure out of it as he does. But one day he sees something that sparks a truly fantastic idea, and he can't stop thinking about it.

The old hound master has decided it's time for Beauty to have a new litter, and he's chosen one of their best studs to father it. Jaskier has named all their dogs at this point, and Champ is certainly one of the largest of the pack. Jaskier helps guide the dogs into their pen, trapping the two together. It doesn't take long before Champ is sniffing at her, the two dogs circling in an almost flirtatious way. Jaskier tries to ignore the way his traitor of a cock is swelling in his trousers and hopes no one notices.

Champ looks so large compared to Beauty, and Jaskier can't help wondering how she feels as he mounts her. He doesn't care about her pleasure at all, just knows he's meant to fuck and breed her. Jaskier's struck with an image of himself in her place, legs spread wide and hips held up while Champ slams into him. He nearly moans and has to cover it up with a cough, his poor heart going wild in his chest as he watches the dogs mate. He already knows what he's doing tonight.

It only takes a little bit of experimenting to figure out that anything he does to his body stays when he switches forms. So Jaskier waits until the rest of the house is asleep and then grabs the bottle of oil he's secreted under a bunch of old notebooks. He spreads out on his back, taking a moment to relax before he hikes a knee up and reaches back to rub at his hole with a slick finger. He whines quietly, not completely used to the odd pressure. He's touched himself before - who hasn't? - but he spends so much time in the kennels that he rarely experiments on his own.

The angle is hard, but Jaskier manages to work two fingers into himself, stretching the best he can. He's hard and leaking against his thigh, and he can't help wondering how much better Champ's cock will feel than his own small fingers. He adds more oil and slides a third finger past his rim, groaning at the delicious burn. He feels like he could go off at any minute, and wonders if he should let himself come once to make sure he lasts longer later. But no, tonight his orgasms are for Champ. He grins and declares himself ready before quickly shifting and sneaking out of his house.

The pack greets him at the door of the kennel, knocking him onto his back as they all swarm around him. He spends a few minutes playing with them, just prancing around and letting everyone sniff him. Then he shifts and searches for Champ. The massive dog follows him as he beckons him into the breeding stall. He has no idea if he'll actually mount him like one of the bitches, but oh how he hopes so. He shuts the door behind them to keep the curious dogs at bay and then spends a few minutes petting and cooing at Champ.

Jaskier isn't sure if it's because he's naked, or if Champ can sense what he's there for, but the dog licks at his mouth and Jaskier opens up, letting their tongues slide together. He moans and lets Champ kiss him, all sloppy and wet. Reaching down, he finds the dog's cock poking out of its sheath, and Jaskier wraps his hand around it. He pumps him slowly as Champ humps his fist and whines against his mouth. Jaskier is so hard he feels lightheaded, and he knows he can't last another minute without being properly filled.

Jaskier rolls onto his hands and knees, looking over his shoulder to see Champ sniffing him curiously. He pats his ass, trying to draw the dog's attention to it, and gets some licks against his fingers for his trouble. Jaskier wants to cry, because he has no clue how to accomplish what he's aiming for. He leans forward on his shoulders and tries spreading himself open, hoping a slicked up hole might entice Champ. The dog noses at him for a moment before coming closer, pressing down on his back with heavy paws as he finally mounts him.

Champ’s claws scratch at his back, and Jaskier realizes he should have worn a shirt for this. He's not about to stop now, though, not when he's so close. He holds himself open as Champ tries to thrust inside of him, his tapered cock brushing over Jaskier's slicked hole. Whining, he reaches back and tries to help out, desperate to get the dog's cock inside of him. Somehow it works, and Jaskier howls out as Champ slams home, not even giving him a moment to adjust before fucking him hard.

Jaskier scrambles to prop himself up better, getting his hands under him as Champ starts to plow into him. He's brutal, just chasing his own pleasure and using Jaskier to find it. It's overwhelming, feeling all that power behind him, and Jaskier lets his head hang down and just braces himself the best he can. The new angle makes Champ's prick brush against something inside of him, and Jaskier lets out a broken moan, his eyes watering at how intense it is. It's like fire is shooting up his spine, and his legs start to tremble as Champ slams into him again and again, ruthlessly fast.

Champ is leaking pre-come in his ass, and Jaskier already feels fuller than he already has. His own cock is hard and wet between his thighs, but he can't move to touch it right now, fears Champ would fuck him into the ground if he did. Champ is panting hard, drool and slobber dripping down Jaskier's back as he slams into him in rough, jerky movements. And then something else pushes at his rim, something far larger, and Jaskier realizes with a cold shiver that he forgot about the knot.

"Fuck," he hisses out as Champ works his knot inside of him. It's impossibly large, but somehow it pops inside and Jaskier sobs as he comes, his ass clenching around Champ as he spills beneath them. Champ howls and stills, and then there's a rush of come flooding his ass. Jaskier's whole body is shaking now, his limbs almost useless, but somehow he manages to hold himself up as Champ grinds against him, making sure they're tied together by his knot.

His arms give out, and Jaskier buries his tear-streaked face in his arms. He feels like he's being split open in the best possible way. Every few moments there's another burst of watery dog come, filling him and marking him as the little bitch that he is. Jaskier lays there and takes it all, loves how it makes him feel to be used and bred like this.

When Champ's knot deflates and he pulls off of him, Jaskier reaches back and shoves three fingers into his ass, moaning as how loose and wet he is. He's absolutely dripping with Champ's seed, and he feels like he'll never be clean again. He fucks himself, his hole fluttering useless around his fingers, and reaches down to fist his cock. It only takes a few quick jerks before he's coming again, mouth opened in a soundless shout as he coats his chest and thighs with it.

And as Champ comes back, sniffing and licking at him, Jaskier knows he is absolutely doing this again. He lays there shaking while Champ laps at their combined spend, cleaning him up like the good boy that he is.

—

Unfortunately, Jaskier grows up and learns that the world outside the kennels isn't so casual about people fucking their dogs. His time at Oxenfurt was spent in the beds of his fellow classmates, and while he enjoys human lovers, he hasn't found that wild abandonment that his dogs back home offered. But one can't very well fuck one of the strays around the city without causing a bit of a commotion. Or at least Jaskier thought he couldn't.

It turns out no one pays any attention to two strays fucking in an alleyway. Once Jaskier realized he could shift and have his pick of any of the mutts in the city, his life improved tenfold. All he had to do was shift outside his dorms and find a willing partner. Some nights he would prepare himself ahead of time and go on the prowl for a dog to breed him like the desperate little bitch he was. Sometimes he would take off after class, shifting as soon as he could find a stray female. He could fuck a dog right in the middle of the street and no one cared. Jaskier got off on being buried inside a wet cunt while people avoided his eyes and rushed past him. Fuck, it was exhilarating.

The best day of his life was when he found out he has a knot in his dog form.

Even now, as Jaskier flits about the continent with Geralt at his side, he still takes time to appreciate his furry friends. It happens less often now that he has a travel companion, but he's always eager to indulge when Geralt leaves him behind on a hunt. This afternoon he made friends with a few stray dogs who had been begging for scraps at the back door of the tavern, and Jaskier knows exactly where he is heading as soon as his performance is done. Geralt most likely won't be back before morning, and no one will notice a few strays fucking outside the stables.

Once he plays the final song, Jaskier bows and collects the coins at his feet. There are cheers for more, but he has an itch that needs scratching and he gracefully bows out. After a brief stop in the kitchens to flirt and charm his way into a handful of beef tips, Jaskier heads out into the alleyway behind the tavern. A few of the dogs run away, but Jaskier moves slowly, sitting on the steps and holding out a piece of meat. One of the older looking dogs - a mass of golden fur - comes over and sniffs at his hand. He offers the meat and smiles down at her as she licks his fingers clean.

He holds out his other hand, offering the last bit of meat. The dog eagerly takes it from him, and Jaskier starts petting her as she laps at his fingers. He can't help but imagine her tongue in other places, but now isn't the time. He needs to be quick and discreet about this. "Aren't you a sweetie? I think I'll call you honey. A sweet name for a sweet girl," Jaskier tells her softly. She puts her paws on his knees and licks at his face, and Jaskier can't help opening his mouth and letting their tongues slide together. It's not a proper kiss, but it's wild and sloppy and has his cock hardening in his trousers. Fuck, he's going to be so good for him.

"Now don't panic on me," Jaskier says, laughing before he shifts into his dog form. Honey barks at him curiously, but he nuzzles her with his snout, and she scents him and calms down. They spin in circles a few times, chasing each other around before he makes his move. He noses beneath her tail, trailing lower until he can lick at her cunt. Honey barks again, but shoves back against his mouth and Jaskier laps at her until she's wet and open for him. By the time he's fully hard - his red cock hanging out of its sheath - Honey has lowered her head and raised her ass up, practically begging to be mounted.

Jaskier sets his paws on her back and lines up, groaning as he rubs his cock against her dripping hole. Fuck, he's missed this. He slowly slides inside of her, giving her a moment to adjust before pulling back and slamming back in. Jaskier prides himself of taking care of all his partners - human or not - and he knows what Honey is looking for is the rough fucking he's so often sought himself. He lets his tongue hang out as he starts to plow into her, his tapered dick hitting just right to make her howl in pleasure.

The stable boy must hear them, and he wanders over before mumbling to himself and rushing away. Jaskier fucks Honey harder, grinning the best he can in this form. A part of him wishes that the boy would stay, would watch him breeding Honey like she so clearly wants. Jaskier can already feel his knot forming, and he knows he won't last long. Honey pushes herself back against him and he thrusts harder, teasing her with his knot as it starts to catch on her rim.

He's quick and brutal as he slams into her, growling as his knot pops inside. Honey howls and clenches down around him, and that's all it takes for Jaskier to throw his head back and spill inside of her. Her tight heat is almost too much, and he rolls his hips, grinding his knot inside of her as he comes for what seems like ages.

"Jaskier?" he hears, the voice breaking through his post-sex haze. He turns his head before he realizes he should ignore it, but Geralt is standing a couple feet away, his head tilted as he studies them. Jaskier tries to act as much like a dog as he can, bending down to sniff at Honey's neck while ignoring Geralt. But then her cunt tightens around him again and he shoots another load inside of her, whimpering as he panics and makes eye contact with Geralt. "It's no use ignoring me. My medallion is humming like crazy, and I can't tell it's you."

Jaskier howls in shame and hides his face, but his knot feels so good inside of Honey's tight body, and he can't help rocking his hips as he comes again. If he were in his normal form, he'd be red from head to toe right now, and he can't bear to look at Geralt again. Maybe they can just forget this whole thing. Fuck, if he weren't locked to Honey by his knot, he'd take off running. As it is, he cowers in shame the best he can while Geralt looks down at them.

"You finish your fun and then meet me in the room. Don't run off on me," Geralt tells him before reaching out to ruffle his fur. Jaskier nips at him, but Geralt just snorts and walks away. What follows is the longest knot of Jaskier's life. His orgasm is pretty much ruined at this point, because all he can think about is the panic and fear that someone knows. He shifts back and spends way too long petting Honey in thanks before heading back inside. He waves at the bartender with a fake smile plastered on his face and drags his feet as he makes his way upstairs and to their room.

"Geralt -" he starts as soon as he opened the door to their shared room, but Geralt interrupts him.

"It's fine."

"What?" Jaskier asked stupidly, because there is no way on earth this is fine. His best friend just found him balls deep in a dog. That is not something you come back from. Only Geralt doesn't seem to think that's an issue, not with the way he smirks at Jaskier and saunters over to him, leaning one hand on the door before dipping his head to whisper in his ear.

"Would have been nice if you told me you were a shifter, but let's move on to the fun part. Tell me how that felt? How much did you get off on fucking that dog? That beast. Do you love it, knowing you're fucking something not human? Witchers are beasts, too. Would that do it for you?" Geralt growls against his neck, and Jaskier shudders and lets out a high-pitched whine. He's hard and leaking already, his cock twitching at Geralt's words.

"No, no! I'm very much on board," Jaskier rushes out, giggling nervously as Geralt picks him up and stomps over to the bed. He tosses Jaskier on top of it before stripping and climbing on top of him. Jaskier groans at the first brush of Geralt's prick against his, even though the layers of his doublet. He arches up and tries to get his trousers off, but everything is all too much and his fingers don't work. Geralt chuckles and takes pity on him, unlacing them and shoving them down past his knees before sinking down on him again.

"Tell me when you started. When did you fuck your first dog, Jaskier?" Geralt asks, his voice rougher than normal. Jaskier shivers and does his best to answer, but his words are stuck. Geralt leans down and nips at his throat, raking his blunt teeth over his sensitive skin, and Jaskier keens and arches up into him.

"Twelve, fuck! I was twelve," Jaskier mumbles as Geralt starts to rock against him. Their cocks slide together, pre-come easing the way, and it's all Jaskier can do to hang on as he's quickly taken apart.

"You ever let one fuck you? Ever taken a knot in that sweet little ass of yours?" Geralt asks, and Jaskier nearly sobs as more pre-come spills out of him. He's so hard he could die, but he forces himself to answer, because Geralt is being so fucking good to him right now.

"Yes," he hisses out, eyes slipping shut as Geralt brings a hand between them and wraps it around both their cocks. He pumps them roughly, his calloused hand sending sparks down his limbs as Jaskier rocks into it. "It's good, so fucking good," he whimpers.

"Bet you look pretty hanging off a knot," Geralt says, and that's it. Jaskier shouts as he comes, spilling over Geralt's hand. He sobs, tucking his face in Geralt's shoulder as he rides it out, his whole body shaking as it pulses through him. Geralt quickly follows, grunting as he comes in hot bursts between them, adding to the growing mess.

"Fuck, Geralt, I can't." Jaskier slurs, his limbs heavy as he tries to get Geralt's hand off his oversensitive cock. He came so good it hurts, and he needs a moment. Geralt just chuckles and grins down at him before rolling onto his side and gathering Jaskier in his arms.

"Two ways we can play this," Geralt mutters. "We can pretend this never happened and I'll let you keep your secret. Or...we could keep having fun together and maybe I could offer you more of what you like, too."

"More?" Jaskier asks, blinking slowly at him. He's so well-fucked that his brain doesn't quite work, but there is no way he's going to turn down any offer Geralt gives him.

"You ever been fucked by a wolf before? I find Axii works wonders," Geralt admits, and an aftershock runs through Jaskier's body, his prick twitching at the thought of it. "Yeah? Want to be taken in the wild like that? Used like the bitch that you are? Wolves are rougher than dogs, even stray ones. But you were born for it, weren't you? Needy little slut like you."

"Fuck! Yes, please, Geralt. I want that. So so much," Jaskier begs, already imagining how massive a wolf's knot would feel inside of him. He'd probably be torn in two, but it would be worth it.

There was a thrill of nerves and excitement bubbling under your skin as you watched Joey put together the final touches to his outfit. He was an extravagant Dungeon Master, one of the best you’d ever had… and you’d had him a lot in so many different places and positions.

And fuck you never wanted it to stop.

“Is it even?” Joey asked as he blinked away from the mirror, the blue eyeshadow so dark it was almost black and glittering on his fingers.

His blue eyes were piercing against the black smudges covering his eyelids and smeared onto his cheeks. It was a complete mess, a hot fucking mess, made even worse by the ratty shock of hair that curled just above his chin. Your gaze roamed further down, the midnight blue waistcoat cinching the shape of his billowy white shirt. His jeans were not as tight as he usually preferred but for a very good reason, so you could hardly complain.

You grinned as you plucked the tophat from off the table, cocking your head as you pulled him towards you.

“Not in the slightest,” you replied, brushing your lips against his cheek as the tophat was placed on his head at a tilt.

Joey chuckled, turning his head to capture your lips in a heated kiss, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer. You went willingly, pressing your body flush against his, your hands squeezing his arse. The nerves melted into unadulterated lust as you lost yourself in his lips, tongue, the heat of his breath mingling with yours. His lips never left your skin as he brushed along your cheekbone, teeth nipping at your earlobe, and his accent thickened in a low growl as he spoke.

“Ready, darling?”

“Born ready,” you hummed back as you let your head roll back so he could press a kiss to your neck.

“Under the table then. They’ll be here soon.”

Fuck… his voice.

You knew he could ask anything of you and it would be hard to resist, not when he looked like some kind of dark fae and sounded like sex defined. Still, you couldn’t help but pout at him, smiling as he pulled you in for one last kiss.

It would be a while before you got to enjoy the pleasure of his lips again.

The table was artfully decorated as it always was. The rich velvety tablecloth that would be your cover for evening was draped over the playing area, hanging right down to the floor. At the end of the table stood the DM’s screen and a chest beside the chair on the floor where Joey kept his maps and aids for the players. It was a decadent set up, but Joey was a performer and he enjoyed the show.

Although, it wasn’t the decorations or the costumes or the maps that made him a brilliant DM.

No, it could be a sterile room with just Joey and his players, and the effect would be almost as incredible. The way he could create the most amazing worlds, stories and characters from just his words, playing all the NPCs with so much depth and personality… that even you forgot he was Joey at times.

He was brilliant.

And for some unfathomable reason… he was yours.

Joey would prefer to say you were his, and god… you were so fucking down with that.

“Behave,” he chuckled against your lips, “and kneel for me, darling.”

“Fuck,” you groaned as you pulled back from the kiss, melting against his chest.

It was going to be a long evening.

Dutifully, you crawled under the table. Joey had left a cushion by the DM’s chair in preparation for the night. The effort he had put into making you feel comfortable sent a flood of warmth through you. He could be brutal when you played, but there was always that small touch at the back of your neck, a hand running down your spine, a soft whisper in your ear.

He was safe.

And there was no one else you would rather be with.

There was a scrap of wood on stone as the chair was pushed back. The tablecloth muted the sounds outside your hidden tomb more than you expected, but as you got into position, you felt the scrap of his fingertips in your scalp.

“Good,” he whispered, a low growl that was barely audible.

You shivered under his touch, pressing your cheek against his thigh. This was familiar… comfortable, but you were still alone. Your fingers itched to pull at the zip, to claim the prize that lay beyond. You settled on mouthing at his dick through his trousers, brushing your nose against the fabric and enjoying the guttural groan that tore from his throat as his cock hardened beneath your touch.

“That’s not behaving,” he murmured.

“They’re not here yet.”

“That’s not the point, sweetheart.”

Scoffing, you pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh and settled in to wait. With his fingers still carding through your hair, it was to just focus on the soft sigh of your breath and the touch of his hands. Any lingering nerves washed out of your body with every brush of his fingers tugging at your hair. You sighed and leant against his leg, enjoying a moment of not existing before your friends turned up.

Part of you wished that you could spend the evening alone together. It was easier on your own… but you wanted this. The idea had been haunting you ever since your first DnD campaign together, Joey’s finger brushing along your thighs under your skirt, slipping beneath your underwear as he continued to describe the scene in front of you, his voice never giving away his actions.

He was a fucking bastard.

“Joey,” you murmured, fighting off the foggy haze of lust in your mind.

You wanted him. His touch between your legs, stroking… teasing…

Fuck.

“I’m here, darling,” he chuckled, a sharper tug at your hair just as the doorbell rang.

You whined as he pushed back from the table, leaving you alone for a few precious moments. It might be easy to be alone with Joey, but truly alone made your thoughts race, especially when you felt as vulnerable as you did now. You thought you’d prepared for this moment… when he’d greet your friends as if you weren’t even in the room, but the reality was colder than your imagination.

From the hallway, you could hear Joey explain to the others that you were sick tonight and that he would be playing your character for the evening when required. That made you grumble a little, you wanted to trust him… and really you did - with the important things.

But Joey was also an evil DM, and you didn’t quite trust your dwarven ranger in his hands. There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt that he’d leave you in a perilous situation for the next session… especially if you didn’t behave.

Soon enough though, everyone was settled around the table. Their legs were more crowding than you’d expected, leaving you to shuffle closer to Joey in order to remain hidden. The heat that coursed through you made it all worth it. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this turned on, head spinning before you’d even started.

“Don’t touch yourself,” he’d growled in your ear earlier that morning when you’d been putting the final touches to the plan. “You’re all mine.”

It had been too easy to agree back then, but now you were regretting it. You ached for touch… for release. Biting your lip, you let out a shaky breath, hands trembling as you gripped at his thighs. The players’ voices filled the room, excitable shouts, and laughter as they got their dice and boxes ready.

“Amethyst again, Joey really?”

“It’s for good luck,” he chuckled.

“Show off.”

“Yeah, well… I’m the DM. I’m allowed to show off,” he said, sounding far too smug as his fingers once again threaded into your hair. “Now… where were we?”

That was your cue, the game was starting… both games. Holding your breath you unzipped his jeans, biting back a moan as you realised he’d gone without his boxers for the evening. It should have been predictable, but, fuck, it didn’t make it any less hot. Joey carried on his recap of the last session without so much as a pause as you pulled his cock from his jeans.

Bastard.

Here you were, under the table and practically falling apart at just the thought of what you were about to do, and he was barely even affected. Joey was supposed to be the one struggling to keep quiet… not you.

The players started to get into character, continuing the story and bantering as they approached the next checkpoint of the story, as Joey guided them through the world, his voice a soothing timbre that kept you floating and safe.

Joey laughed just as you licked a stripe along the underside of his cock.

“I- ah… I’m gonna need a perception check for that,” he stammered with a sharp tug to your hair.

There was the sound of rolling dice clattering above you in their boxes, “12?”

“You look around the room, the darkness surrounds you like a well-worn cloak. The air is cold and biting against your skin. Out the corner of your eye,” he paused, and you took the opportunity to kiss down his length, still teasing, testing… waiting. “No… the smoke in the room keeps shifting around you, the torch casting shadows that swirl and move, confusing… It’s no use. The room keeps its secrets for now, but you are left with a strange sense that there is nothing good beyond the glow of your torch.”

The players all groan. This had been an exploration mission away from your main quest. You’d been hoping for a break from the fighting, but Joey was a cruel DM and found far too much glee in bringing your party to its knees relentlessly.

Well, two could play at that game.

Just as Joey began to discuss the next action, you took the tip of his cock into your mouth, licking at the slit before humming softly, using the cover of the laughter to make the sound.

“Shit,” he hissed.

“Joey?”

“Ah, nothing. I just… remembered something I forgot before. No worries,” he muttered, his voice dropping to a lower register that he usually reserved for the bedroom.

Got him.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, but you could tell there was something off already, which only encouraged you more.

The plan had been to alternate between blowjobs and cockwarming… not letting him cum until later in the night, but this was far more fun. You hadn’t quite realised the power you would hold over him… and how giddy you would feel. Pulling back from his cock, you nuzzled along the length, your nose pressing into the fabric of his jeans as you mouthed at his balls.

“But!” he said loudly, his legs spreading wider under the table. “Umm… my darling isn’t feeling well, so… so I’ll probably want to check on them. Shorter session tonight… If that’s alright?”

There was a murmur of agreement.

“Shorter, but not… too short,” he added with another tug to your hair.

You barely managed to suppress your laughter, pressing your face into his thigh. In retaliation, Joey brushed his foot between your legs, rubbing up along the inside of your thigh, a teasing touch and you couldn’t help but shift to give him better access. Remembering his earlier words, you were sure you would regret it later, but you were already dizzy with lust and if you couldn’t touch yourself then you would at least take all that he could give you.

“Shall we continue?” Joey asked sweetly, too sweetly. That was the tone of voice you really really didn’t trust when he was DMing. You pitied your friends, knowing that Joey was not going to make this easy for them, but you could certainly help as best you could.

Keep him distracted.

Hopefully with a lust-hazed mind, he might feel a little more kind-hearted.

Before you could get back to your task, Joey’s foot rubbed up against you and you had to bite down on your lip to stop from moaning. Heat burned through you, making your head spin and you couldn’t help but press into his touch, letting out a soft sigh as he stroked his fingers through your hair. His hand guided you back to his cock, a gentle touch but still firm. It was clear that Joey was getting impatient, as he once again settled into his role as DM.

The soft growl of his voice above you melted into the background as you took the tip of his cock back into your mouth, sucking gently before relaxing your jaw to take him further. After a couple of shallow bobs you stilled, humming quietly and resting there between his knees whilst he petted your hair. You could go back to teasing him later, but for now you were content to enjoy the weight on your tongue as you let your mind drift, the rattle of dice above you blending with the laughter of friends.

Friends that had no idea that you weren’t tucked up in bed.

There was a shrill shriek of excitement above you, and you cracked an eye open, your fingers gripping into Joey’s thighs to get his attention. He responded with a teasing rub of his foot, sending a ripple of heat prickling across your skin. You had no idea how long you’d been kneeled of the floor for, but it wasn’t nearly long enough for a decent DnD game. It was long enough for your arousal to have slowly built up without you really noticing beyond the surges whenever Joey’s foot moved, or you heard his breath catch in his throat.

You let out a shaky breath as you pulled off his cock, blinking as you tried to reorientate yourself in the room. It was dark under the table, and whilst the thrill of getting caught made this one of your more exciting games… you wanted Joey. The urge to kiss him, to get lost in those gorgeous blue eyes, and run your hands through the soft bristles of his beard whilst he fucked you with a passion and love you’d rarely felt with anyone else.

The clatter of dice pulled you from your thoughts with a start.

“Oh cock!” Joey cursed as one of his dice fell to the floor by your feet, and soon after his head popped under the table cloth, his hand on your cheek. His lips brushed to your ear as he reached for the die. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, turning to capture his lips in a kiss that ended far too soon.

“What are you doing down there, Joey?”

“It’s dark, give me a break, oh wait no… got it!” he called back, pressing his lips to your forehead one last time before scrambling back up to his chair. “Another half hour?”

Half an hour of slow sweet torture before you could finally get your hands on him, more importantly, until you could get his hands on you. Fuck, the miracles he could perform with just his fingers, it was enough to drive anyone to the brink of insanity.

The chattering from the table above you got louder, and the dice rolls got faster. Shouts of incantations and vivid depictions of absurd attacks and deaths filled the room. The battle had commenced… and the noise provided the perfect cover for you to launch an attack of your own. With the memory of his lips on yours lingering in your mind, you settled back between his legs with a new sense of desperation, swallowing his cock down without warning.

Above you, you heard Joey’s accent slip back to his Newcastle lilt as he struggled to keep his composure. He laughed it off but the sound was strained which only served to encourage you. It was easy to bring him to the edge, you were well practiced by now, knowing exactly what he liked and what drove him mad. One hand moved to cup his balls, just as there was a yell from the table.

“Ah cocking bollocks,” Joey cursed, as he came, spilling into your mouth, his thighs clamped on either side of your head. “Shit, umm… maths, right. What, er… what did you roll?”

“Nat twenty!” your friend cried.

“Right, yeah,” Joey mumbled, not sounding at all satisfied with what should have been a mindblowing orgasm. “Describe it for me?”

The game ended soon after that. Joey practically threw your friends from the house, and no sooner had the door slammed shut, then you were hauled from under the table and thrown up against the wall. His lips claimed yours with a low growl.

“You bastard,” he murmured against your lips, biting gently as he pulled away from the kiss. “I was trying to concentrate.”

You smirked, dragging your leg up the back of his as you gripped his arse. “Oops?”

“Oops, fuck,” he groaned. “Worst orgasm ever.”

“Oh, well… you’ll have to let me make it up to you then, won’t you?”

“Oh you’re in for a long night, darling.”

The curse should have been easy to lift. That was the entire reason why Jaskier hadn’t completely panicked - he would lose his voice until he was fucked by the wolves he was so fond of.

Naturally, both bard and witcher had assumed that Jaskier would just need to be pounded into the earth by his darling White Wolf; hardly a sacrifice. They’d been sleeping together for years and the mage probably hadn’t realised that. So with a quick non-verbal discussion, Jaskier and Geralt had headed back to their camp in blissful ignorance.

The sex had been… not the best, Jaskier missed being able to moan and cry and lavish praises upon his dearest friend, and without that it all felt a bit dry, like they were just going through the motions. Sure, they both came but it was nothing special.

And Jaskier still couldn’t talk.

So they tried again the next morning, this time Jaskier was on top, in case they’d missed something in the mage’s curse. Geralt fell apart so beautifully underneath him, clawing at the bedroll, hair falling into his eyes, blown wide and black with hunger. It was always such a delicious sight, but Jaskier was desperate to regain what had been lost to him- he couldn’t savour it like he so dearly wanted. Geralt came first with Jaskier’s hand wrapped around his cock, rutting into him with a single-minded focus, chasing his own pleasure as soon as he felt Geralt’s arse clench around him.

The silence was haunting.

Tears streaked down Jaskier’s cheeks as he pulled out of the witcher, his mouth gaping as he tried to force out even the smallest sound. He couldn’t even scream, just silent sobs and the breathy sounds of his gasps.

“It didn’t work,” Geralt hummed.

No it bloody well didn’t work, Jaskier wanted to reply.

“We can try again.”

Jaskier swatted Geralt’s bare back to get his attention, and the witcher rolled over to face him. Only then did Jaskier shake his head, cupping Geralt’s cheek and smiling sadly down at his witcher.

“Wolves, plural. I’ll ask Eskel and Lambert to meet up with us and -”

The words were interrupted by Jaskier’s finger placed on Geralt’s lip.

The mage had said wolves - not witchers, and Jaskier’s past was coming back to haunt him. How long had it been since he’d taken a dog’s cock, its knot? Not since Lettenhove, and he’d been determined to bury that behind him, learn to like humans in the same way. The shame had eaten away at him, but as a horny teenager he just hadn’t cared.

He cared now though.

He had something to lose; Geralt, his career, his reputation.

Fuck, Geralt would never look at him again.

“Jask?”

Without bothering to wipe the tears from his eyes, Jaskier leant down to kiss Geralt; a last goodbye.

It was probably better this way. Geralt wasn’t exactly one for words and heartfelt goodbyes, so a bittersweet kiss would mean far more to the witcher. Their lips were chapped, and after days walking the path, the air between them was soured, but it was gentle. Jaskier held Geralt’s face in his, tears splashing down onto Geralt’s pale skin, leaving stains in the dirt that was smeared across his cheeks. A strong hand cupped the nape of Jaskier’s neck, pulling him closer, and he sobbed into the kiss.

“Don’t do this,” Geralt murmured. “Don’t say goodbye.”

Jaskier didn’t answer, he couldn’t.

“We’ll find a way.”

That was true. Jask had found a way- it just didn’t include Geralt.

He didn’t even bother to get dressed as he fled the camp. The twigs and rocks dug into the soles of his feet, and he was sure that he looked like a complete state. The poor Countess would be rolling in her grave if she saw her precious Julian wandering round the forest like a drunken fool; barefoot and caked in mud and cum.

The smell would attract a wolf pack, or so he hoped. Really Geralt would be better at this whole tracking business but this was something Jaskier needed to do alone. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for a curious wolf pack to find him, even more thankfully it wasn’t something more nefarious.

Jaskier swallowed as the hungry gaze of the wolves fell upon him. It took all his self control not to fall to his knees on the spot, the familiar heat of arousal pooling at his core. Gods, he’d missed this. There was really nothing quite like being fucked by a dog, the simple way in which they rutted into him, bred him, used him. No feelings, no complexities… just sex, mindless pleasure.

The wolves growled and Jaskier dipped his head, falling to the floor in a submissive manner. He wasn’t a threat to them and he prayed to all the gods that this wouldn’t be the end of him. Dogs he knew, but wolves were more; more wild, more ferocious… more dangerous.

Fuck, he was in so much trouble.

His cock twitched, already trying to get hard despite his morning romp with Geralt, and he closed his eyes as he took in a shaky breath. The dirt was damp under his fingertips, and all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart and the snuffling breaths of the wolves as they surrounded him. He gasped as he felt the cool wet nose press against his cheeks, swiftly followed by a long tongue probing at his hole. He idly wondered whether the wolf could smell the stale witcher cum from the night before, but those thoughts were thrown from his mind as the long tongue slipped inside him.

Jaskier whined silently, biting down on his lip so hard that he tasted blood. The sounds of the wolf lapping at his hole were obscene; wet slurping noises that went straight to Jaskier’s dick. The wolf’s tongue was coarse, almost painful against his skin, but gods, it was so deep, the tip brushing against his prostate and sending sparks flying across his vision.

And still he couldn’t make a sound.

He wanted to cry, press back against the snout with curses falling off his lips, but all he could do was gasp and pant, nails scratching at the dirt. The wolf worked him open, licking at his hole until there was no trace of the witcher’s cum, and then heavy paws landed on his back.

Jaskier screamed, no sound escaping his lips which was both a blessing and a curse. No one could rescue him… but he really didn’t want them to. The claws of the beast sliced through his skin, the pain only increasing his pleasure and he wanted to howl along with the pack that surrounded him. As it was he just forced his eyes open, staring up at the big grey wolf that was watching him with dark eyes. It was so calm, so majestic, so handsome.

Gods, Jaskier wanted it. Even as the smaller wolf’s cock finally pushed inside him, Jaskier wanted the grey wolf, the alpha. Jaskier couldn’t take his eyes off of the beast as the wolf behind him rutted into him, his hole raw from the coarse tongue and under-stretched and painful, but fuck the burn was addictive.

He’d never admitted it to Geralt but he liked being used, the feel of his hole sloppy and bloody after being fucked to oblivion. He didn’t want to seem like the freak that he was, hiding his darkest self from the witcher, the love of his life.

The wolf behind him howled as its movements became more erratic, its cock hot and pulsing with every thrust, filling Jaskier up with the length. He gasped as he felt the knot teasing at his hole after so many years of denial, already so full but desperate for more.

He needed this. He needed more.

Please, he wanted to beg. Fuck me, knot me, breed me.

But he could only scream silently, tears rolling down his cheeks as he pushed back against the wolf’s knot just as it thrust into him. The wolf came with a howl, rutting its seed into Jaskier’s already full arse, forcing it deeper and deeper inside of him.

Jaskier let out a pitiful whimper, his voice cracking but definitely there. If he hadn’t already been crying from the pain, then the sheer relief that flooded through him at the tiny sound that fell from his lips would have been enough to break him.

He could talk.

Gods, he could sing!

“F-fuck,” he croaked, finally tearing his gaze away from the alpha wolf as he tried to catch his breath. He caught a glimpse of his own cock, red and leaking onto the dirt below.

The wolf snuffled as it adjusted, the knot tugging at Jaskier’s rim as it moved to stand more comfortably. Jaskier just whined, his eyes fluttering shut at the pressure, a sharp stab of pain. He was stretched too far, filled with dog cum and the bulge of its knot, but gods, he never wanted it to end. He knew as soon as it was free, he’d be left feeling empty and wanting.

The curse was broken but Jaskier wasn’t done.

“G-good boy,” he cooed at the wolves around him; the sound of his own voice was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, even when it was so broken… so wrecked. “My perfect, darling wolves.”

One of the smaller wolves, russet brown with yellow eyes, nudged at Jaskier’s shoulder, licking at the tears that stained his cheeks. Stumbling, Jaskier slung one arm around the wolf’s strong shoulders, digging his fingers into the thick fur, warm and oh so soft. His other wrist strained as it pressed into the ground, struggling to bear his own weight, but it was all so worth it, to feel the wild fur of the wolf beneath his skin as he hung off the knot of its packmate.

At the first sign of the knot going down, the smaller wolf pulled away, ripping from Jaskier with a howl. Cold air flooded through him, leaving him empty, his hole fluttering around the space where the wolf’s cock had been. He whimpered, raising his eyes once more to meet the alpha’s gaze.

“Please,” he gasped, the word like the sweetest wine on his tongue. “Please.”

And though they couldn’t understand him, the wolves knew Jaskier for what he truly was - a bitch.

It didn’t take long for the alpha to take its place, leaving its own fierce marks upon Jaskier’s back. This time it didn’t bother to lap the other wolf’s cum from his hole, and it was far more experienced in claiming its bitch. The thick cock pushed inside him after only a couple of ruts against his arse. Even without the knot, it felt thicker than the previous wolf, longer, fucking all the way into Jaskier’s stomach. He screamed. This time the sound tore from his throat, ringing through the trees like a siren’s call.

It hurt, but holy mother of fuck, it was good. Jaskier keened, his eyes squeezing shut as the alpha wolf used him, bred him, forcing the seed of its pack deeper and deeper into him until there was no doubt that it would take and Jaskier would grow plump with its pups. A silvery wolf, young and barely past puberty barked, spinning around as its leader fucked their prey into the dirt, lapping at the mess of precum that had splashed onto the ground before finding the source.

Jaskier cried again as the wolf licked at his poor neglected cock, and he shivered, looking down at obscene sight. The pup was eager and unskilled, lapping happily as it wagged its tail.

And oh…

With every snap of the wolf’s hips, Jaskier could see its cock bulge against the flat of his stomach.

“Oh- oh fuck!” he whined, bearing back against the wolf as he came, his whole body shaking, burning, free.

But the alpha didn’t care that everything was quickly becoming too much for Jaskier. It wasn’t fucking Jaskier through his orgasm to be kind. It just needed to fuck, to breed, to mate.

He screamed again as the wolf behind him howled, the pack joining it in a chorus that drowned out Jaskier’s cries. Every thrust of the wolf’s cock pushed against his prostate, abused and sensitive, but it still managed to wring pleasure from him, making his toes curl and sobs heave in his chest. The knot was growing, with every snap of its hips, teasing at his hole but never quite pushing inside, too large for even Jaskier’s sloppy quivering mess of a sluthole.

It didn’t stop him from wanting it.

He hadn’t come this far to be denied.

He howled back at the pack as he met the wolf, thrust to thrust, his own cock hanging limply beneath him still dripping, wet with cum and drool. The claws dug deeper into his skin, no doubt leaving marks that would scar once all this was done and dusted, and Jaskier sobbed as still the knot refused to push inside him. The wolf whined, it’s breath hot and heavy on his back…

And finally…

Oh gods, finally, the knot popped into him, pain burning through his bruised and beaten body, and Jaskier let out a contented sigh and his arms gave way. He sank to the floor, the wolves surrounding him, licking at his cheeks, the wounds on his back. He sang weakly to the pack as the alpha bred him well.

He had his voice.

He had his wolves…

________

The young omega was a fucking flirt, a bastard, and an idiot all in one tantilizing package. There wasn’t a whiff of fear in his scent and he seemed to enjoy teasing anyone that crossed his path. He’d bared his scent gland at no less than two betas, one omega, and one alpha on his way over to Geralt. The idiot didn’t even seem to realise he was doing it. He’d make a better whore than a bard, and the audience seemed to agree judging by the rotten food he’d been pelted with.

Still, he was very pretty and his scent- fuck. Omegas always smelled amazing, sweet and tempting to any alpha, just ripe for breeding. Even though Geralt was sterile, his instincts still urged him to mate. He was just usually better at controlling those urges. No sensible omega would want to be tied to a witcher, and having company on the path would only slow him down, get in his way. But there was just something about this omega that called to him. A warm, inviting honied chamomile scent, and a faint undertone of lavender. Sweet, floral… omega.

His omega.

Geralt was suddenly gripped by the urge to sink his teeth into that long muscular neck, to claim the bitch before he could get into any more trouble. Someone clearly needed to show the omega how to behave and Geralt was certain none of the other alphas in the room could handle the task. It would need a witcher.

“Sit down,” Geralt ordered, letting his alpha voice weave into the words, and immediately the omega slid into the seat.

The pretty thing bristled; he was young, barely over eighteen and probably not used to the cruelties of the real world. His clothes were brightly coloured and looked expensive, the tools of his trade, but obviously he was an omega from good stock. Geralt had met his type before, they never realised the danger they put themselves in with their frivolous flirting and general disregard for their own safety.

“You don’t need to do that,” the omega spat, reminding Geralt of an angry kitten. “I came over here to talk to you, of my own free will I should add.”

“You flirted with every single person on the way over, little omega. You’re trouble.”

The omega scoffed, rolling his eyes, the insolent bitch. He was lucky that he was such a pretty little thing, otherwise he’d never find a good mate. No one wanted such a bratty omega.

“I am a bard,” the omega’s eyes flitted over to Geralt’s swords that were resting next to him, “witcher. Flirting is part of my trade.”

“Hmm.”

“Sooo…” the omega drawled, tilting his head and flashing Geralt a coy smile, his tongue flicking out between his lips. Geralt’s eyes were drawn to the movement as the omega’s lips began to glisten, begging to be kissed. “No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance... except you. Come on, you must have some review for me, three words or less.”

Geralt quirked his eyebrow at the omega. The bitch seemed to have shaken off his previous anger and was now back to acting like he owned the fucking place. His scent was so sweet, so delicious, carefree and happy, and even from across the table Geralt could smell the omega’s arousal. He wasn’t in heat, but at least one person in the room had caught his attention, and Geralt’s inner alpha snarled at the thought of it being anyone other than him.

His alpha had already claimed this little flower as his own.

“They don’t exist,” Geralt grumbled, too distracted by the omega’s scent to think of anything more coherent.

The omega’s brow furrowed, and he tapped on the table. “What don’t exist?”

“The creatures in your song.”

The omega scoffed. “It’s a story, witcher. It doesn’t have to be real.”

“Hmm.”

The omega raised his eyebrow at Geralt in a clear challenge. “Perhaps I should sing of the Great Butcher of Blaviken,” he paused, his tongue once again flicking out to trace his bottom lip, “...alpha.”

Geralt growled, getting to his feet and scruffing the omega in one swift movement. “Come on.”

“Oi! What? Geralt! Let me go!”

“No,” Geralt snarled. “You’re coming with me, bard. You want monsters?”

“Y-yes?”

“I’ll give you monsters,” Geralt spat and dragged the writhing omega towards the door of the tavern.

He was so enraptured by the omega, pretty and pliant in his hands, that he didn’t notice the poor beta approach them. Geralt almost bit the man’s head off when his fingers caught the bard’s sleeves, pulling them to a halt.

The man had no right to touch his omega.

But Geralt was low on coin and he needed the contract. So he took a deep breath and suppressed the animalistic snarl that wanted to tear from his throat. “What?” he growled.

The beta shrunk back. “A-a job for you?”

________

The trek to the farmlands outside of Posada was not a quiet one. His bratty little omega didn’t know the meaning of silence and, despite Geralt’s display of power, he still wasn’t afraid. If anything, the little slut was more aroused than anything. There was a distinct wet patch on his trousers from all the slick that was leaking from his body, and his face was flushed a deep red. The omega’s irises were blown so large that Geralt could barely see the rings of blue, and yet the omega didn’t even acknowledge his own arousal. He wittered on about monsters, elves, and history, as if they were just two betas going about their day.

“Shut up!” Geralt snarled, the alpha once again leaking into his voice.

The omega’s jaw snapped shut, two blue eyes glaring at Geralt with a burning fire. His jaw clenched and he was clearly trying to fight Geralt’s hold over him, which was just endearing. Geralt found he liked that the omega had a bite. Too often omegas would just roll over at the sight of an alpha witcher, which was all well and good, but it was boring. Geralt needed someone that could keep up with his lifestyle; he didn’t have time for nesting and the soft luxuries that omegas preferred, and he’d decided that this little slut of an omega would do nicely.

“You could have just asked,” the omega mumbled quietly as the alpha voice began to fade already. “Look, Geralt, I’m going to be honest with you.”

“Hmm?”

The omega waved his hand in Geralt’s general direction. “You are very handsome, a prime alpha I’m sure.”

“Get to the point.”

“But I’m simply not interested in being just an omega to you, or anyone really. I am a bard, a poet, a troubadour of the highest degree. I have stories to tell and the whole Continent to see, and if you just stopped all this alpha posturing for two damn minutes, then I think you and I could be great friends,” the omega wittered on, his voice getting louder and bolder with every word.

Friends.

It wasn’t what Geralt wanted, but it would allow him to get close enough to the omega, to be able to sink his teeth into that pretty little neck and claim him. So, he nodded, coaxing the omega into giving him a blinding smile.

“Excellent! So no more of this alpha voice nonsense.” The omega winked, cocking his head, bearing his scent gland in the process. The fucking little slut. “If you let me, witcher, I could change the public’s tune about you. No more Butcher of Blaviken shit, you’d be the- the White Wolf! Or- or something?”

“And what would you get, bard?”

“Fame, fortune, a new best friend?”

Geralt considered it. It would be a good arrangement. Without Blaviken hovering over his head, he might actually be able to afford new clothes. All his coin currently went towards the bare essentials, ingredients, and repairs to his weapons and armour. He barely managed to afford the care that Roach needed. A mutually beneficial relationship. “Fine, bard, you have a deal.”

“Oh ho ho! Brilliant, you won’t regret this, Geralt. I’ll be the best companion a witcher could ever need!” the omega announced with a wide wave of his arms.

Geralt had to grit his teeth as they reached the fields. Despite his previous command, the omega wouldn’t shut up, and it was going to compromise the hunt. Whilst Geralt didn’t think that there was a devil, there had clearly been something taking the grain from the villagers, and he didn’t want his omega getting hurt. Geralt needed to protect him. There was just something about this bard that had triggered all of his alpha instincts, it was peculiar. The bard wasn’t even typically omega: he was broad where omegas were normally dainty; tall, almost as tall as Geralt; and there was a tease of thick, dark chest hair where his collar was left loose.

And yet all Geralt could think was ‘mine’.

The omega asked Geralt what he was hunting. Now wasn’t that a question? Officially, he was hunting the devil of Posada, but he had his eyes on a much sweeter prize. Neither seemed like a good answer so he went for a third option. “Blessed silence.”

The omega ignored Geralt’s pleas for silence, babbling on about nothing as Geralt searched the fields for the supposed devil. He thought about using axii to shut the omega up, but before he could turn to face him, something struck him on the head. Geralt cursed, fingering the small wound of his forehead, eyes frantically scanning the perimeter, and a growl tore from Geralt’s throat as a second cannonball flew through the air and hit his omega. As the omega crumpled to the ground, Geralt spun round in a pirouette, sword already drawn and ready to take blood. Geralt struck quickly, the hilt of his sword meeting skull as he easily knocked the sylvan unconscious. He was so focused on the horned beast that he didn’t notice the elf sneaking around the corn field until it was too late. He barely had a chance to look up before he was following his omega into the darkness of sleep.

_______

The confrontation with Filavandral confirmed what Geralt already knew: his pretty little omega was too much for any human alpha to handle. The bitch was feral, wild and untamed, hissing like an angry kitten whenever the elves got too close to Geralt, and he was starting to think that the omega thought he was some kind of beta, maybe even an Alpha. It was cute. Not many people had tried to protect Geralt before, and he would be damned if he let this pretty little thing fall through his fingers.

The only problem was, the brat of an omega seemed determined to stay unattached, and frivolously unaware of the danger he posed to himself. It was driving Geralt mad. Even now, bleeding and bruised, his omega was strutting down the path without a care in the world, strumming his lute as if nothing had happened.

“Bard,” Geralt growled through gritted teeth as he watched the omega skip along the dirt track, his doublet carelessly undone, stinking of slick and hot arousal.

“Jaskier,” the omega corrected with a tilt of his head, a dazzling smile dancing on his lips as he winked. “If we’re going to be friends then you should at least call me by my name.”

“Come here, Jaskier.”

“Oh, ho, ho! Look at you, big old scary witcher! But thank you,” Jaskier said, all too trusting and warm, “for not doing the whole,” Jaskier trailed off and just waved a hand in Geralt’s face.

Geralt hummed, waiting patiently until Jaskier was closer. There were similarities between axii and the alpha voice, but the main difference was that axii would hold the omega down for longer, imbued with magic as it was. However, it worked better if his target was at close range. Luckily, Jaskier was a fool, and soon he was resting a hand on Geralt's thigh, gazing up at him through his eyelashes without any idea of the danger he’d put himself in.

Not that Geralt would ever hurt him. No, it was for the omega’s own good. He needed protection. He needed Geralt.

Geralt's fingers formed the sign of axii before he could change his mind.

“You will do as I say, omega,” he whispered, his medallion humming from the magic. “You will obey me.”

Jaskier’s eyes glazed over and his jaw went slack. “I will do as you say, alpha,” he slurred back, finally becoming the perfect little omega he was born to be.

It was only meant to be a temporary solution, until Jaskier learned his place, but whenever he awoke from the enchantment, the omega went straight back to brazenly flirting with anything and everything. He still insisted that he wouldn’t fuck an alpha, waxing poetry about betas and omegas that he’d slept with in the past, almost gloating that he would never be owned by an Alpha. Geralt tolerated this behaviour in small doses, enjoying the dedication to their new friendship that the omega had, the blissful ignorance of the time he spent under Geralt’s control.

At first Geralt truly only used axii to protect the bard, keeping him subdued and obedient in towns, and away from fights when they were on the path. Axii put an end to his slutty ways before some weaker alpha tried to take advantage of him, but Geralt only had so much willpower and Jaskier was draining it with every second. Even under the sign, Jaskier would forget to lace his doublet right to the top, revealing dark tufts of chest hair that was more befitting an alpha, and he had an infuriating habit of baring his neck whenever he spoke to Geralt, words slurred and eyes unfocused.

They were in a tavern when Geralt finally reached his breaking point. The sluttly little omega was flushed from his performance and he smelled of lust and the hot slick leaking out of him. The state he was in hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other occupants of the tavern, particularly not to the alphas in the room. It was only logical that Geralt step in and protect his omega from the dangers surrounding him. There was a low rumble of growling from the other alphas as they began to circle the unsuspecting omega, nostrils flared, cocks clearly straining against their trousers - and yet Jaskier seemed completely oblivious, happily trilling as he took his coin from the generous audience. Geralt usually preferred to stay back, keeping to his corner of the room, but there was a fight brewing and he wasn’t willing to sacrifice his room for the night just for Jaskier.

Geralt stood up, snarling at the pathetic human alphas that dared go near his omega. None of them were good enough for Jaskier. No one else was. Only him.

“Back off,” he growled, loud enough for the whole tavern to hear, and the room fell deadly silent.

All except for Jaskier. The omega scoffed, flipping a gold coin in his hand before catching it once more, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips. “Really, Geralt, you’re doing this now?”

“You stink, Jaskier.”

“Rude!”

“When’s your heat due?”

The omega’s cheeks flushed even redder, the sweet scent of his slick only intensifying. It took everything Geralt had not to press him up against the wall and knot him right there in front of everyone, claiming him, mating him, breeding him - but it wasn’t the right time. Not yet.

It didn’t mean that he couldn’t have his fun though.

His fingers moved quickly, tracing the air in the sign of axii, and Jaskier’s eyes clouded over, a serene smile gracing his lips.

“Follow me,” Geralt murmured, turning back to his table in the darkest corner of the room.

Jaskier hummed, his footsteps sluggish behind Geralt as they made their way back through the crowd, Geralt glaring at every alpha or beta that got too close to his precious omega. When they were back at the table, Geralt spun to face his omega, nimble fingers casting axii once more as he took Jaskier further under his control.

“Under the table.”

The omega nodded, dropping so prettily to his hands and knees as he crawled under the benches. Geralt slid back into his seat, heat pooling at his core with every breath that he took, Jaskier’s intoxicating scent making it hard to think about anything except his aching cock and the need for release.

“Good boy,” he hummed as Jaskier settled between his legs. “Now, suck my dick, but be quiet.”

“Be quiet,” Jaskier slurred, long fingers already moving to untie Geralt’s leather trousers, nose nuzzling at Geralt’s cock through his clothes.

Being quiet wouldn’t help much. It was very clear to the rest of the room what Geralt had asked of the bard, and he would enjoy the looks on their faces as he came all over the sweetest smelling omega in the room, but he was looking forward to Jaskier’s pitiful attempts to stay silent. The bard never stopped singing even when he had three fingers up his ass. Geralt had spent many evenings listening, watching, as Jaskier brought himself off, never allowing himself to touch.

Until now.

It was time to put that mouth to good use, the way an omega should. Geralt smirked as he took a long sip of his ale, one hand stroking through Jaskier’s hair, keeping his face close to his cock and muffling the soft moans that were already falling from the omega’s lips. The slut hadn’t even touched him yet and still couldn’t control himself, which was precisely why Geralt needed to use axii to keep him subdued. The idiot would cause all sorts of trouble without an alpha to guide him.

When Jaskier finally pulled Geralt’s cock from his trousers, Geralt felt his eyes flutter shut. He was so fucking hard that even the lightest of touches was blissful. He bit back a moan as Jaskier licked a stripe along the underside of his cock, his fingers digging into Geralt’s thighs. The bard hummed, kissing the tip, lapping at the pre-cum that was already leaking - and the mug in Geralt’s hand shattered.

“Fuck,” he hissed. The omega was so good for him, teasing him, but doing exactly as Geralt had asked without any question and it was making Geralt’s head spin.

Jaskier the bard who had resisted Geralt at every twist and turn, fighting back and hissing like an angry kitten whenever Geralt tried to turn their friendship into something more, was so docile and pretty between his legs. Sucking his cock in the tavern for all to see. The perfect omega. His nails scratched into the wood beneath his fingers as Jaskier’s lips stretched around his cock, enveloping it in a dizzying wet warmth that was sinfully divine. Geralt barely resisted fucking up into his omega’s mouth, making him choke on the thick alpha cock that he’d always denied himself.

“Oi! Witcher!” an idiot alpha called from the edge of his table, “take that somewhere else. This isn’t a whorehouse.”

Geralt grinned, baring his teeth at the poor weak alpha. His grip tightened in Jaskier’s hair and forced him further onto Geralt’s cock, making the poor thing moan loudly, spluttering and gasping for air.

“I’m teaching my omega a lesson. If you have any sense, you’ll leave us be and enjoy the show,” Geralt said as calmly as he could with an omega sucking at his cock.

The alpha blushed, his eyes blown wide and Geralt didn’t miss the way his hands twitched, reaching to palm the front of his trousers. A low purr escaped Geralt’s chest, preening as he saw how many alphas desired what was his, what they could never have. Jaskier was his, and as if he could hear Geralt’s thoughts the omega let out a whine, taking Geralt deeper into his mouth, tongue hot and heavy around Geralt’s cock. Geralt didn’t break eye contact with the other alpha as he finally gave in, hips rolling forward as fucked into his omega’s mouth, making him moan with every thrust. Jaskier’s arousal was thick in the air and he rutted needily against Geralt’s leg.

“Don’t cum,” Geralt growled at his omega, tugging sharply at his hair.

Jaskier blinked up at him, normally vibrant blue eyes dulled and hazy. His lips were stretched so prettily around Geralt’s cock and there was a bulge in the omega’s throat as he took Geralt’s entire length. It would certainly ruin the bard’s vocal cords for at least the next few days - just another way in which Geralt could keep his omega tamed.

“Good boy,” he hummed, letting the waves of pleasure roll over him until he felt a twist in his gut. He yanked at Jaskier’s hair, pulling him off of his cock as he felt the fire burn through him, clouding his vision as he came with a soft groan, white stripes covering his omega’s face.

Gods, it was such a sight. Geralt felt like he could cum again just from seeing his omega painted in his spend, marking him for all to see.

“Go clean up and wait in our room for me. I want another drink,” Geralt instructed, adding a final layer of axii to the command before tucking himself back into his pants.

To Geralt’s delight, Jaskier scurried off, not even remotely embarrassed by the mess on his face and the collar of his doublet. Normally the bard would be kicking up a fuss if anything happened to his precious clothes. Geralt smirked and watched him go, waving down the barmaid to order a replacement mug of ale. His omega could wait. No alpha would go near him whilst he reeked of another alpha, and a witcher to boot, but of course the scent would fade. Jaskier would once again smell of nothing but sweet omega, free and unclaimed; a dangerous thing for an omega.

He was practically begging Geralt to mark him, to mate him.

So, the next time they camped out in the forest together, Geralt asked his pretty little omega to strip for him, wanting to see his potential mate before claiming him. Jaskier didn’t even fight, too weak under Geralt's sign. It didn’t take long and soon the omega stood naked in the middle of the woods, slick dripping down his thighs. He smelled like all of Geralt’s dreams and nightmares mixed together: sweet, alluring, calling to his very soul. Everything that Geralt had been trained to resist but there was no resisting now. No, it had gone too far for that. The alpha growled as he stalked towards his prey- his mate, and this time, he made sure that Jaskier wouldn’t forget his time under the sign.

When the haze left Jaskier’s eyes, when his mind once again became his own, Geralt couldn’t help but chuckle. The omega was so difficult, so strong willed, too strong willed. He was tense despite Geralt’s ministrations, despite the pleasure that no doubt wracked his body as Geralt stroked him. Geralt let more chaos leech through the sign, sending a wave of calm through the omega.

Geralt moved so that his front pressed firmly against Jaskier’s back, a thrill running through the alpha as he felt just how pliant the omega was against him, their bodies molding together easily.

It was rare he felt this in control of a situation that wasn’t a hunt. Human’s prejudice against witchers meant that Geralt had to remain as submissive and nonthreatening as possible while in their presence, but not now. Now, he was in charge and he wouldn’t be denied. He couldn’t be denied.

Despite their situation, despite the power Geralt now held over the young omega, Geralt wasn’t cruel. He wanted the omega to enjoy himself, to show him so much pleasure that next time Jaskier would drop to his knees without the need of axii.

Inhaling deeply, Geralt could smell Jaskier’s slick, his body reacting to the presence of an alpha and Geralt’s spell. Jaskier moaned, thrusting into Geralt’s tight grip and Geralt nuzzled at his neck, rubbing his nose across the omega’s scent gland, spreading his own scent, claiming Jaskier as his.

It took everything in Geralt not to bite down when the omega first cried out, begging to be fucked. Jaskier sounded wrecked already only with a hand wrapped around him, and Geralt couldn’t hold back a guttural growl as he imagined just how sweetly Jaskier would cry out around his cock, around his knot.

Speeding up his movements, Geralt brought Jaskier closer and closer to the edge, purring low and deep in his chest as the omega begged for more, still squirming in Geralt's grip. He kept stroking the omega slowly as he let his other hand slip between his legs, groaning as he felt the slick covering his thighs. Geralt nuzzled into Jaskier's neck, his tongue laving over where a mating bond would go and Jaskier whimpered, trying to pull away from the sensation even as he thrust into Geralt's grip.

"Shhh," he began, letting alpha leak into his voice to calm the struggling omega. "I won't mark you. Not tonight."

“Pl-please,” Jaskier stammered out.

“Hmm… What do you want, omega?”

"Geralt," he whined, as the witcher's fingers pushed inside him. "Alpha, please."

Geralt growled at the plea, at the omega barring his neck for him. He had never before felt this urge to claim, to mate, to mark someone as his before. But this little omega, keening and crying for more, looked like a dream. His omega. Marking him would be so easy and would keep him in line better than even the axii would.

But it could wait. For now he had a dripping wet omega writhing against him in desperation, and it was time to give the sweet thing exactly what he wanted.

Geralt added a third finger, stretching the omega around them. Groaning as he realized just how loose the omega already was. "Hands and knees, omega. Present for me."

He panted and squirmed against Geralt, his body clutching as tightly as it could around Geralt’s fingers, chasing the pleasure.

Geralt could feel his spell fading, his focus having waned, relying more on his alpha voice than the magic.

“Present.”

Jaskier fell to his knees, hissing in pain. Geralt could smell the faint scent of blood as the omega’s knees scraped against the hard ground beneath him. He leaned forward, his hands digging into the dirt and he whined as he arched his back.

"No," Jaskier managed to choke out despite his body's movements. His eyes widened as Geralt’s fingers once again traced the sign for axii, "No, fuck... please."

Geralt smirked as Jaskier submitted despite his protests. The omega might have been strong enough to struggle against the alpha commands, but he couldn’t do anything against axii.

Jaskier slumped, his arms and legs wobbling as he barely managed to hold himself up. Geralt couldn't remember ever seeing someone so tempting but there he was, free for the taking, all Geralt's to do with as he pleased. The alpha fell to his knees behind Jaskier, unlacing his pants with one hand as he rubbed a calming hand up and down Jaskier's backside, his thumb grazing Jaskier's hole.

"You'll be begging me not to stop when you're sitting on my knot." Geralt grunted, sliding his fingers back into Jaskier as he began stroking himself.

"Don't stop, alpha," Jaskier whined pitifully, tears streaming down his face as he looked back at Geralt, "I need more, your cock, your knot, fuck me, alpha... please..."

Geralt felt the last of his self restraint snap and he knew he couldn't wait any longer. Lining his cock up with Jaskier's hole, he pushed inside slowly, moaning at the tight heat stretching around him as the omega cried out. He bottomed out quickly, his knot already beginning to fill. Fuck, it had been so long since he had the chance to knot an omega. He grinded into Jaskier's hole, chasing the sensation before pulling back out and beginning to thrust slowly.

Jaskier keened as Geralt thrust into him. He whined and panted and begged for more with every thrust, and Geralt did everything the omega begged for. He never stopped pounding into him, deeper and harder as the pleasure began to build.

"Knot me, Geralt, alpha... my alpha..." the sweet melodic trill in his voice called to Geralt. "Mark me, claim me, I'm yours, alpha."

Geralt roared as he thrust into Jaskier, grinding into him as he felt his knot expanding. He threaded fingers through Jaskier's hair and pulled the omega up, plastering their bodies together as he felt his knot lock as he began to cum, filling the omega with his seed. The urge to mate, to claim, was overwhelming and he found himself burying his teeth into Jaskier's neck with a growl.

The mating bond snapped into place and Geralt dropped the spell keeping the omega subdued. Jaskier let out a sob as he collapsed onto the ground. Geralt pulled Jaskier so that his back was resting against the alpha’s chest. Geralt buried his face in Jaskier’s hair as he stroked his side, purring happily.

-

Jaskier felt sick as he came to, tears streaming down his cheeks, a strange pull at the edges of his mind that were so very Geralt. For five years he’d managed to avoid the cruelty of alphas, even surviving his time at Oxenfurt without so much as a few scuffles with the brutes. For five years, he’d managed to maintain his independence, living more as a beta than an omega. For five years, he’d been a deluded fool.

Even Valdo hadn’t forced himself on Jaskier like this, and he’d been so sure the witcher was a good man. Why else would he give his coin to the elves? But no, Jaskier had been so very wrong, a mistake that had cost him his life.

Gods, he should have realised. He should have known the monster slayer was no more than a monster himself.

His stomach lurched and he bit back a wave of nausea with a groan. Despite everything, Geralt’s fingers were rubbing soothing circles into Jaskier’s side, a low purr rumbling in his chest and Jaskier knew the sound should help to soothe him. He had pleased his alpha. He should be happy. He was bonded to a fierce alpha who could protect him from harm. It was every omega’s dream.

But he didn't want this.

He’d never wanted this. Running away to Oxenfurt had been his chance to escape the life his parents had wanted for him: married, mated, bred.

And yet... he'd asked for it, begged even. He couldn't control the tears as he cuddled helplessly against the witcher, his alpha's knot tying them together. He was still trapped. He'd always be trapped now. Bound to the Butcher of Blaviken, a man he'd hoped could be his friend and companion.

Lockdown was a bitch.

It wasn’t like Joey was a particularly sociable person, but the one thing really did enjoy was sex. He was no stranger to one night stands, getting far too drunk at the club and falling into bed with whoever took his fancy. Having sex with strangers was easy, especially when he was too drunk to care what they might think about him, about his dick. It wasn’t exactly average, and he’d been laughed at one too many times by people he cared about, so now he had a habit of pushing people away before he could get hurt.

Henry was no exception.

Sweet, kind, loving Henry, who had offered Joey a place to stay when the electrical mains had blown in the flat he shared with Madeleine. Gorgeous, filmstar, sexiest man alive Henry, who just happened to be Joey’s biggest crush.

So, despite the fact he was desperately horny, Joey kept his co-star at a distance. Preferring, instead, to cuddle up to Kal or spend hours locked away in his room composing, or trying to compose at the very least. He really didn’t want to admit how many hours he actually spent reading porn with his fingers up his arse. Honestly, the amount of lube he’d gotten through the last few weeks was just embarrassing.

There were moments when he thought that maybe, just maybe, Henry fancied him back. The soft smiles when they danced around each other in the kitchen in the mornings, the lingering glances across the room when they were watching Netflix in the evenings, or even the rather romantic walks with Kal at dawn.

But he couldn’t risk it, not when he had to spend the next seven odd years working with Henry. If they were lucky anyway, god, he hoped it would be that long. Lauren wouldn’t kill off Jaskier, would she?

Nah…

He was fine. Dandelion was integral to Geralt’s development in the series. Joey just had to have faith that Lauren saw that too.

Of course, there was a niggly feeling at the back of Joey’s head, an anxiety that said this stupid bloody pandemic would never end and he’d never get to perform again. He kept wondering whether he should just give up, get another job; something stable.

He sighed, running both hands through his hair as he collapsed back onto the bed, his guitar abandoned on the floor. Lockdown wasn’t the most inspiring of events, but he had to be productive. It was the only way he was getting through his boredom, that and far too much gin and wine. He smiled at that, Henry had been terrible for encouraging his love of gin and tonic, the pair of them spending most evenings lost at the bottom of the bottle.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t keeping Henry at as much of a distance as he should have been, but a broken heart would definitely fix his lack of inspiration. There was no better cure for writer’s block than a broken heart. Any artist could tell you that.

Until then Joey supposed he would just continue to be unbearably horny and get through too much lube.

He had nothing better to do.

Groaning, he leaned over to grab the bottle he kept in the drawer, and then hastily unzipped his jeans. It didn’t take long for his cock to get hard, teasing strokes along his length as he fell into the memory of Henry working out that morning, biceps bulging in the dark blue tank top, tanned skin glistening with sweat in the sun. Thick curls fell in front of Henry’s eyes, sticking to his forehead, and he winked -sort of- as he noticed Joey watching from the doorway. Joey wanted to lick every inch of Henry’s skin, lavishing him in kisses and hickies until there was no denying who he belonged to, then he wanted Henry to ruin him; fuck him against whatever surface they could find, strong arms lifting him up against the wall. Joey could ride him until his legs started to shake, Henry thrusting up into him until he couldn’t remember his own name.

God, he wanted it all.

Henry’s lips around his cock, never judging him or complaining, but loving him, loving his cock.

Sparks flew in front of Joey’s vision and he cried out as he came, spilling into his hand. The pleasure crashed over him, leaving him boneless as he fell back onto the bed with a blissful sigh, happy to bask in the haze of his orgasm and forgetting that it was all just a fantasy.

Until the door burst open and Joey was suddenly bombarded with a faceful of fur as Kal bounded into the room. It was mortifying. Joey was still covered in cum and lube, and now he had to try and force Henry’s giant hound onto the floor, but if Kal didn’t want to do something it was incredibly difficult to get him to behave. He was just so fucking heavy.

“Okay, that’s enough now, boy,” Joey mumbled, his face burning hot and he wondered if he could just die there, never having to show his face again.

Kal’s fur was already sticky with the mess of lube and cum, and Joey really didn’t want to have to explain that to Henry.

It was fine. He could pull Kal into the bathroom, nothing a flannel wouldn’t clean off. Henry never needed to know…

“Oh fuck, shit, Kal. No!” Joey stammered as the dog started to lick at his hand, dangerously close to his cock. “No, no, no. No!”

Kal ignored him, continuing to lick up the mess on Joey’s hand, before nuzzling against his cock, and holy shit, it had been so long since someone else had touched him. Despite the fact he’d just cum, Joey felt a whole new wave of arousal flood his body and his cock twitched pathetically, trying to get hard.

“Fuck,” Joey groaned, knowing he should be disgusted but he was just so fucking horny that he was struggling to keep a good grasp on reality.

And Kal really didn’t care that Joey’s cock was small even when hard.

Joey whined and closed his eyes, letting the dog lap messily at his dick. He was already so sensitive from his first orgasm but it felt so fucking good, and as long as he was already there and trapped by Kal, he might as well enjoy it. Every lap of Kal’s tongue sent fireworks through him, and Joey couldn’t help the needy whimpers that escaped his lips, his own hands running up inside his shirt to play with his nipples. It didn’t take long until he was hard again, panting and on the edge of a second orgasm.

“Joey?”

“Oh fucking cock!” Joey cursed and tried, to no avail, to push Kal off him

The door.

Kal had rushed into the room leaving the door wide open behind him.

“I- it’s… shit!” Joey stammered, trying to find an excuse that just didn’t exist.

He was caught. Life as he knew it was over. Henry would turn him into the police and he would never work again, all because he’d been too horny to stop Kal from licking his cock. It wasn’t as if he’d meant to do it. There was no pre-meditation and he hadn’t sought out the dog… but he’d enjoyed it?

“Kal, come here,” Henry’s voice was firm, and unfairly hot given the situation.

Despite his now flagging erection, Joey still wanted to climb the man like a tree. He was weak. He was desperate. He probably needed therapy.

Shit.

“I’m sorry, Joey,” Henry mumbled, sounding… ashamed?

Joey frowned, covering himself with a pillow as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry? You just… Kal… Me?”

“I didn’t know he’d- I should have told you to lock the door.”

Henry was blushing, and he really did look apologetic, like he was the fucked up one in this situation. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He should be angry, yelling, phoning the police, not apologising.

“Henry? What exactly are you apologising for?” Joey asked cautiously, chewing at his bottom lip. There was a flutter of hope in his chest that maybe, just maybe, he was the only one.

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Darling, you just caught me getting my cock licked by your dog. I think we’re beyond boundaries now. I- You should hate me?”

“You should hate me. It’s my fault. I- I trained him to- to-”

Joey felt his eyes widening as he processed Henry’s words. Not only was he not disgusted at what he’d witnessed… he’d practically been the reason for it.

“Holy shit.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Holy shit!” Joey whined, scrambling off the bed to get closer to his crush who had just somehow got impossibly hotter.

“Joey, please.”

“I liked it.”

“What?”

“Kal, I- I liked it, and- umm, well… I like you too,” Joey admitted with a bashful smile, “and you did interrupt so… you could always join in?”

Henry’s face flew through a million different expressions until he seemed to finally understand what Joey was saying. A dangerous smile fell into place and they crashed together in a heated kiss, hands tearing at each other’s clothes, their shared shame fueling the passion until it was scorching every cell in their bodies. Teeth clashed, noses bumped, breaths intermingled, the taste of coffee dancing on Joey’s tongue.

And when Henry’s hand wrapped around Joey cock, he felt like he had died and gone to heaven. He waited for the comments to come, a raised eyebrow or something, anything… but Henry didn’t seem to care that his hand dwarfed Joey’s cock considerably. All his fears had been for nought. He whined and just kissed Henry with even more fervour.

“Fuck, Henry,” he moaned as Henry’s fingers stroked the length of his cock.

The bastard just chuckled, pulling back to press their foreheads together. “Ever taken a knot?”

“W-what? No?”

“Do you want to?” Henry asked, his fingers moving to tease Joey’s rim, the sensation making Joey keen.

“I- fuck, yes. Jesus Christ! You’re trying to kill me....”

“Get on the bed,” Henry instructed, then whistled at the dog who had been sitting rather patiently by the doorway.

Joey did as he was told, pulling off the last of his clothes before crawling back onto the bed, eagerly awaiting whatever new delights that Henry had in store. Smirking, he watched as Henry stripped down, looking like a fucking god, and Christ, the size of his cock… Joey might never walk again.

But that wasn’t what really caught his attention. No, Henry had Kal by the scruff of his neck and was pulling him up onto the bed to join them. It didn’t take Kal long to understand what his owner was asking of him, and he happily let Henry guide him, his own long pink cock unsheathed.

“Fuck,” Joey breathed as he stared, transfixed as everything he knew about himself was suddenly turned upside down.

He wanted this… badly. He hadn’t just enjoyed the mindless lapping at his cock because he was horny. Fuck, no, it was more than that. He wanted it. The thought of Kal fucking him made his cock ache and he was sure he’d never been quite so aroused in all his life.

“Good?” Henry asked, tilting his head.

“Uh huh. Yup, very…”

“Good,” Henry murmured before capturing Joey’s lips in another kiss.

There was a click of the lube bottle, and he hissed as Henry’s finger pushed inside him. “More,” he whined, “I can take more. I- already…”

Henry growled, and in the next thrust, he was two fingers deep inside Joey, his lips moving to attack Joey’s neck. Teeth grazed against Joey’s skin, fire burning in his lungs as he tried to catch his breath, another hand wrapped around his cock.

“I- I, fuck!”

“God, you’re perfect.” Henry’s words caught in Joey’s neck, his collarbone, his chest. “You fit so beautifully in my hand.”

Joey keened as Henry’s thumb ran along the head of his cock, the words tingling over his skin. “Please, Henry.”

“Shh, I’ve got you.”

Another finger slid inside him, the stretch a delicious burn that soon gave way to pleasure as Henry attentively opened him up, murmuring praise with every thrust of his fingers. His deep rich voice the bassline to the melody of Joey’s gasps and moans that filled the room.

“There you go, good boy, come on Kal. He’s ready for you,” Henry finally said.

“Oh, oh cock!” Joey panted, biting against his own hand to try and stop himself from cumming.

They were doing this.

Fucking mother of god, they were really doing this.

Henry’s strong arms scooped him off the bed, flipping him with ease and guiding him onto all fours. He whined, fingers gripping at the already filthy sheets, head dropped forward so he could see his own cock red and leaking onto the bed. Kal’s nose was cold against his skin, but Henry didn’t let him sniff for too long.

“Up boy, come on,” Henry coaxed.

The weight of the dog almost had Joey collapsing back down onto the bed. Pain seared down his spine as the claws dug into his skin, but fuck he wanted more. He needed more, everything that he could get. Joey could do little more than close his eyes and hold on as Kal rutted against him, frantic and desperate until finally, oh god, finally, his cock pushed inside.

It felt strange, different to any other cock Joey had taken before, reminding Joey of just how filthy this was, forbidden, disgusting and yet so fucking good. Kal fucked like a man possessed, desperate, ruthless, uncaring, and Joey felt tears prick in his eyes. He needed to cum, already so exhausted and oversensitive, but yet he felt like he might explode if he didn’t cum again. He vaguely heard his own voice babbling, pleading, begging, Henry's voice a constant low growl in his ear, stroking and pulling at his hair.

He felt so full, and it was only getting worse with every thrust until he finally felt the pressure of Kal’s knot teasing at his hole.

Fuck.

Henry hadn’t been kidding.

He whined, hand desperately reaching out until felt Henry’s fingers lace with his own.

“So fucking, full,” he gasped.

“You’re doing so well, Joey, almost there.”

“Fuck!” he cried as the knot finally pushed inside him, the dog cumming harder and longer than any human. With just a single touch to his cock, Joey’s own orgasm burst through him, spilling over Henry’s hand as he struggled to stay upright, the energy draining from him.

“That’s it, well done,” Henry murmured and Joey wasn’t sure if he was talking to Joey or to Kal.

Kal continued to rut against him, working the cum deeper and deeper, leaving Joey to whimper pitifully as he hung off the dog’s knot, unable to move. By the time the knot finally released him, Joey was a mess, whining against Henry’s chest, covered in cum; Kal’s, his own, Henry’s. He felt thoroughly used and fucked out, dozing quite contently in Henry’s arms.