#ace!eskel

For a moment, there was only tense silence, as Dandelion smacked his lips, trying to find out what the potion tasted like and coming up empty.

“Huh. I don’t think it worked.” Not that Dandelion was disappointed. He truly couldn’t have cared less, but at least now he knew for sure that no one would ever be able to slip him a love potion and have it have any effect on him. “Maybe Yen isn’t as good a mage as she thought.”

He swirled the last drop of the potion in his cup, giving it an unimpressed look.

“Or maybe you are an idiot for trying something that you knew wouldn’t work,” Geralt said and –

Oh.

Oh. Huh. That was…weird. Since when did Geralt’s voice sound so silky smooth? And where the hell did that violin music come from that was playing a soft, dare Dandelion say, romantic melody?

Well, whoever had made these invisible violins appear, Dandelion would need to have a word with them. Everyone knew that the lute was the superior instrument and besides. This melody? This sappy, tooth-rotting sweetness that made Dandelion’s ears want to melt, was something that sounded as if Valdo Marx had written it. Dandelion could have done so much better.

He opened his mouth to say just that, when he twisted around to face his friend and saw Geralt.

He was…he was glowing. Literally, actually glowing, as if there was light coming from inside of him. He was radiant. He was -

“Geralt, you look ridiculous. Is that another witcher thing?” He squinted his eyes, poking at Geralt’s cheek. “Since when are you bioluminescent? Are you turning into a wraith?”

Geralt’s brows rose high into his forehead.

“Yen made me polish my armour.”

Dandelion tilted his head. “Yeah. Was about time. But that’s not it.”

Geralt’s eyelids fluttered, closed and opened incredibly slowly, making Geralt look up at Dandelion through his lashes.

Dandelion stared, not even bothering to suppress his snicker.

“Why on earth are you moving in slow-motion?”

“So you can finally follow.”

Dandelion shot him a glare. “Haha. I am a master of the seven liberal arts. I am not the slow one between the two of us.” He crossed his arms, which looked less dramatic than he had hoped, what with the cup still in his hands and the rest of the potion that nearly dropped into his clothes. “And just because I complained once about not being able to walk that fast because of my boots -”

“You complain all the time.”

“Of course I do.” Dandelion narrowed his eyes, when a clear laugh like bells escaped Geralt, that made him cringe. “But seriously, are you alright?”

“Dandelion,” Geralt said carefully, his voice sounding sultry and – oh! The violins were doing a crescendo. Now that wasn’t distracting from the conversation at all. “I think the potion might have an effect on you after all.”

“Really?” Dandy frowned at the cup. “I don’t feel any different. If anything, you are being weird.”

“I think – you are seeing me the way people see the ones they are in love with.”

Dandelion stared at him, frozen. His eyes went wide.

“This is how Yennefer sees you?”

Geralt gave an awkward shrug.

A snort left Dandelion’s lips and he felt tears gather in the corners of his eyes. “Oh! Oh, that poor woman. How does she not start laughing every time she looks at you? She must be a better actress than I gave her credit for.”

Geralt’s head tilted to the side. “What do you mean?”

“What do I –“ Dandelion spluttered. “Geralt, your hair is blowing in a breeze. In a room with no open widows! How is there a breeze? How is your hair not blowing in your face and getting stuck in your mouth? This is ridiculous. This is so stupid. I love it!” He threw his head back in a laugh and he had to lean against his best friend to keep his balance and not fall off his lap. “I will never be able to look at anyone the same way again, knowing that when they make lovey-dovey- eyes at someone, this is what they are seeing.”

Geralt’s lips twitched and, oh sweet Melitele, this was brilliant! One of Geralt’s exposed teeth was actually sparkling, like a little star!

“Geralt?” He said, putting his hands on either side of Geralt’s face, squishing his cheeks a little and letting out a delighted giggle when Geralt let him do that. Oh, he loved his friend. Whatever had compelled him to attach himself to his witcher’s side, it had made his life so much better. “You know you’re really important to me, don’t you?”

“Please don’t confess your undying love to me.”

Dandelion’s nose scrunched up. “Yeah, no, I won’t. I was going to say that you are my very best friend on the entire continent, but if this –“ he gestured vaguely to Geralt’s flowing hair, his weirdly glowing skin and the cheesy stars sparkling in his eyes – “was what I was seeing all the time when I was looking at you, there would be no way that I could ever take you seriously.”

“You are never taking me seriously,” Geralt said in amusement.

“Of course not. You are far too easy to make fun of.” He nudged Geralt in the ribs. “And now that we’ve established that not even magic can make me feel the nonsense other people feel, what do you say, we get spectacularly drunk and cuddle until Yennefer comes back and cuddles with you?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Sounds like a better plan than drinking a love potion.”

“Oh no no, my friend. This was the best plan I ever had. My curiosity is satisfied and now, whenever you get all gloom and doom on me, I can just remember you looking like this and my mood will get better instantly. I’d say this experiment was a thorough success.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, but put an arm around Dandelion’s shoulders.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said fondly.

“Says the one who’s glowing right now.” He stood up and when Geralt did the same, he bumped his hip against his, before dragging him off to get to Yennefer’s not-so-secret wine stash. “Hey Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“I’m really happy that you’re my friend.”

Ever since Geralt had opened up to him, their time together had shifted. Change was something that always came a big more difficult the older one got but Eskel rather liked this change, liked that Geralt relaxed down onto the bed for him, let Eskel’s hands run over his still clothed body and slowly peel the layers off of him.

In all honesty, Geralt had more practice in all of this than he did, and it wasn’t entirely due to his scars. Oh, Eskel was not naïve, he knew the way most humans looked at him. It’s exactly the reason he avoided so many of them - and he’d never fancied himself a hero anyway, simply there to do the dirty work and clean up the messes the world created, dealing with curses and monsters and the like. But he knew he wasn’t a pretty sight to many, his scars playing into their fears, reminding them of what was out there that could hurt them.

And reminding them that he could survive it and far, far worse.

He wondered, sometimes, whether they were more afraid of him for surviving it, or afraid of whatever had attacked him. Not that it really mattered, but it was a thought that drifted in and out of his head throughout the years as he traveled his own path, sticking mostly to the shadows and remaining an anonymous figure for the most part, never creating or wanting to create a name for himself.

“Eskel.”

But Geralt might change his mind about names. Eskel sat straddled in his lap, tilting his head as he watching how the morning light lit up the fan of Geralt’s hair on the pillows. His chest was bare and his abdomen warm beneath one of Eskel’s palms, the muscles subtly clenching in a way meant to entice him to touch more, stomach expanding and collapsing as Eskel simply felt him breathe.

The bulge in Geralt’s pants told him quite clearly the other man was interested in much more than breathing. Eskel’s mouth quirked upward, the scar stretching tight as it did. “Did you want something?”

“Want you to get on with it,” Geralt growled at him, no real heat to his glare. 

Humming, Eskel ran his hand flat over Geralt’s stomach, admiring the strength there, stopping to trace a scar along the right side. “Not in a rush, are we?” He’d never cared for rushing. Sex in a hurry held no appeal to him, getting off really not being the purpose. What did it matter if he came if it didn’t mean something between them? If he didn’t have time to show the man beneath him how loved he was?

Geralt never really minded them rushing. Most times he was rather impatient if Eskel was being honest. But now that Geralt had handed him the reigns, it wasn’t up to him to decide how quickly they got to it.

Eskel planned to take his time with it.

At least he was kind enough to divest him of the rest of his clothes. Geralt helpfully hitched up his hips when needed, propping his head up proper to get a better view when Eskel settled down between his spread thighs. Eskel’s fingers got distracted once again by the expanse of skin underneath them, tracing scar after scar, knowing the stories of many and tilting his head curiously at the few others. One was even new, a crescent shaped one just at his hip, with indents in it that Eskel knew had to have hurt more than the smoother ones - knew from experience what missing parts of himself felt like. To soothe the old wound he bend down low to brush his lips against it, closing his eyes, chapped lips hardly able to feel the difference between the scarred flesh and the rest of him.

The feel of a warm, broad hand at the back of his head made Eskel’s eyes flutter back open. He stared up the expanse of his lover, up the pale skin and rather large pectorals that were covered with curls, all the way up to the heated pools of gold that stared at him as if Geralt wanted to devour him whole. It made him smile, a hint of a smirk in it, as he rubbed his nose gently at his hip.

A growl made him laugh, which just earned his hair a bit of a tug - nothing rough, Geralt knew he wasn’t a fan of rough between them, just a gentle reminder that Geralt’s wants were still left resting heavy and full against his thigh.

“‘Patience, little wolf’,” Eskel teased, his eyes glittering with humor at the expression that caused. Geralt groaned and dropped his head back, grouching about not quoting their teacher while they were like this, and Eskel took his chance to run his lips all over the skin he so dearly wanted to spoil and adore.

The thighs were next. He squeezed them and memorized the scars all over, his cheek dangerously close to Geralt’s now leaking cock but he still paid it no mind, far more invested in kissing each and every mark he found on his body. There were no new scars down here but he knew there was a single beauty mark right where his left arse cheek met his thigh and he found it with ease, eyes closed yet again as he pressed a gentle kiss right overtop of it before flicking his tongue out to taste the sweat on his skin. Geralt groaned again but it sounded nothing like the last one, the scent of arousal thick in the air around them, his pre’s scent sharp and cutting through it when Eskel inhaled.

“Fucking tease.”

Eskel didn’t even look up this time, humming as he kissed up Geralt’s thigh, adoring him. Just to make sure they both got an equal amount of love he switched to the other, smattering it with kisses, his heart fluttering in his chest as he did.

There was no doubt in his mind that there had been many hands and lips on this same skin. Nights and days alike where many had roamed Geralt’s body, seeking out his pleasure and their own, men and women and others riding his thighs or cock. Sex workers and those just looking for a thrill, those who had seen the beauty inside of him or had simply wanted a go. They were both no longer young pups and had traveled the world, experiencing much of it, and Geralt had never been shy over seeking out adult pleasures.

His were not the first hands to run over his thighs and marvel at them. His were not the first fingers that squeezed and dug into the muscle there, or to skim oh so close to where he wished they would be wrapped around him. Many eyes had drank him in hungrily before, many lips had found their path just next to his sack - but how many, he wondered, held the trust that Geralt had in him?

Perhaps it was wistful thinking, but he doubted any of them at all. He doubted any were allowed to hold him close the way he was allowed to, doubted any had seen him at his worst and loved him still, that any had allowed to see him so vulnerable in the way Eskel had many times before.

Doubted any had given their hearts so willingly over to him as well.

“Tease - sweet Melitele, Eskel, if you don’t start using that tongue I swear to fuck-” Geralt hissed down at him, his patience breaking and hand tugging at Eskel’s hair in his own sort of plea.

Right. He huffed out a breath that made Geralt swear at him again with it so close to his cock; he really should remember that this was, well, different for the both of them. Maybe he got all he needed just kissing every inch of him but Geralt was after something more.

Didn’t mean Eskel had to be nice about it though. With a glint of mischief in his eyes, he flashed a smile up at Geralt, and then immediately wrapped his lips right around his cock and swallowed around him. The taste of pre was thick on his tongue as Geralt swore, practiced experience having Eskel’s hands coming up to hold Geralt’s hips down since he saw the jerk of them coming. Choking on his love’s cock had never seemed all that appealing to him, no matter that he loved the feel of having him thick against his tongue, feeling the weight there.

Eskel sunk down low, humming very lightly to feel Geralt’s nails scratch gently at his scalp, his love trying to find purchase but being as gentle as he could. He relaxed his jaw to keep from aching, hollowing out his cheeks as he pulled back until just the tip stayed in his mouth, licking the slit and feeling Geralt leak for him.

This was something they could both enjoy greatly. He heard Geralt moan as he sunk down again, his own cock twitching in his pants but he ignored it, not really caring if it got any attention throughout their evening. Though, he supposed, it would eventually once they were joined, but Eskel was much more concerned with their current connection.

It was why he loved this so much. He rested his head briefly against Geralt’s thigh just to feel it warm against him as he sucked lightly on the head of his prick, one hand coming up to fondle his sack, rolling a testicle and feeling Geralt twitch beneath him. There was just something so soothing about being connected like this, in such an intimate way, that Eskel had to fight against the urge to relax and simply lay there, simply exist in that connection - it would drive Geralt up the wall for him to do so, it would earn him so many accusations of teasing but there was no purposeful teasing meant about it. Eskel just…

Perhaps he loved differently, he mused, as he lifted his head once more to sink down and run the flat of his tongue against the bottom of Geralt’s shaft. Perhaps he simply loved being as close as physically possible to his love, and this was one way he could do that. Feel Geralt inside of him and know there were little ways they could be closer than this, than to be intertwined in such a way. 

Geralt’s moaning had deepened, rumbling above him. Some words managed to escape him here and there, the occasional praise, his name, his hand cupping the back of Eskel’s head as Geralt did his best to not push him to go faster - as they both knew he wanted to. It gave Eskel a thought that he made sure to put away for later; sometime, he should let Geralt use his mouth as he pleased, but for now he wanted to enjoy this entanglement the way he best knew how.

When the ‘tease’ word slipped out again, Eskel hollowed his cheeks and lifted his head until he let Geralt’s cock slip out with an audible pop, watching it fall heavy and swollen and wanting in his absence. He kissed its leaking head a few times, then kissed down its shaft and over to one of his thighs once more, looking up between his eyelashes in that way he knew Geralt loved as he purred, “You love it” in accusation right back.

Sure, he never meant to tease - well. Usually his actions weren’t meant that way. But it didn’t mean he was entirely oblivious to how much Geralt actually loved being worked up into a tither. 

But, Eskel supposed, he’d been ‘teased’ enough. He patted Geralt’s thigh affectionately and then pushed himself up, letting Geralt grunt at him all he wanted while he got up to fetch the oil. It had been left in his pack when they’d gotten to the inn, tossed somewhere into the big pocket, which meant it took him a minute to fish it out. When he finally stood back up he turned to find Geralt palming himself, his eyes heady as he watched Eskel’s movements. 

“Pants off,” Geralt ordered, and Eskel found it just amusing enough to listen. He tossed the oil at his face first, not doubting for a second that his hand would snatch it right out of the air, and in no rush finally undid the buckles for his own pants and slipped out of his smalls.

The cold air hitting his own prick made him want to hiss. He glanced down, not having really even realized how much his body had been reacting to this, finding himself heavy and wanting - only natural, he supposed. The scent of sex and arousal was heavy in the air and it had been a while since he’d given himself any sort of satisfaction; Geralt had gone off on his own for the past few months to try and hunt down his friend, after having shown him his arse on top of a mountain, leaving Eskel to his own devices in the meantime.

And left to his own devices, Eskel had little to no real interest in taking the time to relieve himself in such a fashion - most days he forgot about it entirely, until he was perhaps a little too grouchy when asking for the right payment for a hunt, or when he found himself staring a little too long at some cute thing that passed him by.

He climbed back into bed and resumed his position between Geralt’s thighs, this time hooking his fingers under his knees and lifting him up so he could get a good look at his entrance. With an outstretched hand he asked for the oil back, catching it when it was tossed at his face in revenge, flashing his love an amused smirk and loving the one he saw on Geralt’s face as well.

The look lost its amusement when he swatted Geralt’s hand away from his cock, replaced with a glower that held no real heat. He apologized with a kiss that made Geralt buck his hips just to be a prick, and Eskel nipped his thigh in revenge. 

“Get on with it.”

One of these days, Eskel was going to ignore him. He shook his head fondly, already missing the way Geralt’s fingers felt in his hair and the way he felt on his tongue but more than willing to ‘get on with it’ if that’s what Geralt wanted.

He popped the oil open and slicked up three of his fingers, though he would only be using one for the time being, before pouring some directly below Geralt’s sack to watch it drip down his crack. It made Geralt shiver and made a bit of a mess on the sheets but Eskel was, if anything, very careful about this sort of thing. The last thing he wanted was to cause Geralt any sort of discomfort, though he knew there was always going to be some measure of that whenever stretching him open; his plan was always to cause as little unnecessary discomfort as possible, all things considered. 

With his slicked up middle finger, he slipped down and followed the path of the dripping oil, running it against Geralt’s entrance and watching it twitch at the light attention. As Geralt tried to push down into it, Eskel held one of his legs up further, pushing it up by the thigh to give him a good view of what he was doing, of the attention he was giving his love. His finger glided so easily over where Geralt wanted it, and he circled it on his entrance, pushing ever so gently to see how easy it might give to the pressure.

Didn’t take much to push in just to the first knuckle, feeling the ring of muscle clench around him. He heard the gasp and subsequent exhale of air when he did, heard Geralt’s heartbeat pick up ever so slightly as he rubbed inside of him, feeling the tug of it all. Geralt clenched down at the hint that he might take his finger out and it made Eskel huff out some air of his own; Geralt really didn’t want to let him go, did he?

But he was a bit too tight, not relaxing for him. He worked that one finger in gently, in and out slower than Geralt would have preferred, feeling his thigh clenching under his hand as he did. Slowly, the resistance faded, Eskel kissing the leg that he held up and murmuring for Geralt to relax for him, let him take care of him.

It made his heart ache in the best of ways that Geralt did let him. That Geralt moved about as best he could in his position to gather the pillows up to prop his head up with, aided by one arm behind his head, so he could watch what Eskel was doing with hungry eyes - that Geralt laid back and relaxed even as his arousal laid heavy against his stretched out thigh, still dripping precum, still wanting the touch it was now denied as Eskel was busy elsewhere. 

Meant the world to him that Geralt let him do this. Let him take the reins and work him open, slipping two fingers in now as he peppered more kisses anywhere he could reach, bending down to kiss at the back of the thigh he held tight to stretch his hips wider. 

When he finally had two fingers fully in him, he let Geralt move just enough to rock into them. He loved feeling Geralt clench around them and hear him groan at the connection - though, he suspected it was more how full he felt than the connection itself, given the heady sound of it. That didn’t stop Eskel’s heart from feeling just as full; he had to bite his lip to stop from getting too emotional over this, just like usual. Something about being with Geralt like this always made him turn into such a sap it was nearly embarrassing. He was just grateful Lambert would never catch wind of any of this, to at least spare him the constant embarrassment and teasing over getting teary eyed over making love. 

At least Geralt had either not ever noticed or was choosing to ignore the sap that bubbled up and threatened to spill over. Eskel crooked his fingers and felt them drag across Geralt’s inner walls, drawing a low moan out of him, flicking his gaze up to quirk an eyebrow at the hand that inched towards Geralt’s cock.

“I’ll get to it,” he promised, searching around with his two fingers. “Let me take care of you.” 

The hand paused, and Eskel continued his searching. It took a little while, perhaps a minute or so, but he wasn’t in any rush - but when he finally found that bundle of nerves he rubbed against it firmly, feeling Geralt suddenly clench around him with a much louder moan this time, his thigh clenching again and his breaths hitching.

Eskel had to shift about, feeling a little uncomfortable, the scent getting to him and making his own prick leak. He’d never been much of a leaker, finding it actually a little difficult to get to that point of arousal, but it dribbled out onto his thigh then and made his skin itch. But he ignored the urge to wipe it off, pulling his fingers out to the tips so he could press in with a third, feeling some resistance as he did. Not enough that it wouldn’t give but enough for him to watch Geralt’s face as he worked all three in, making sure there wasn’t any discomfort there - but the furrowing of his brow didn’t have anything to do with pain, just impatience, the urge to seek out pleasure but the knowledge that he had to be patient and wait.

It was almost cute, how frustrated Geralt could get over sex. Cute enough to earn him some more kisses, Eskel even dipping down to press one nice and firm against the side of his shaft, peppering more all the way up to swipe the precum up with his tongue. 

There it was. That hand back in his hair, fingers running through his locks and making his eyes flutter closed as it gently grasped a handful at the back of his head. He hadn’t meant to just yet but he slipped Geralt’s cock back into his mouth at the feel of them, loosening up to take his entire length in, letting his nose rest in a nest of white curls and he just stayed there. Jaw slack, tongue pressed against the length of him, fingers moving while his head stayed still and he just listened and felt. 

Every once in a while, he had to swallow, not wanting to drool all over his love. He worked him open and listened to him moan, listened to his hitching breaths and his heart beat faster and faster. When at last four fingers worked in and out of him with little effort Eskel decided that was enough, that he was decently stretched and wouldn’t hurt from them joining - not that Eskel had much to worry about there. His own prick wasn’t as thick as Geralt’s, rather modest in size and girth, which made it much easier to stretch him appropriately beforehand. Much faster than the other way around, when their norm had been Geralt inside of him, one reason Eskel had never quite understood the societal embarrassment over smaller pricks.

As he positioned himself closer, not wanting to pull Geralt down from his comfy position propped up on the pillows, he hitched both of his legs up to wrap them around his hips. Geralt helped pull him closer and squeezed him gently between his thick thighs as Eskel took himself in hand, guiding his prick towards that well stretched hole and gently grinding it between his cheeks.

“Fuck, wait.” Eskel paused, looking here and there, not immediately spotting what he was after. Which earned him an impatient growl but he just soothed a hand over Geralt’s stomach and ignored the bucking of his hips, finally spotting and grabbing the previously abandoned oil - which he had thankfully remembered to cap before it had been tossed recklessly to the side. At least it had also stayed within arm’s reach. He poured a generous amount into his palm before stroking himself a few times, squeezing just because he could, making sure he was oiled up nicely before guiding himself back to where his love wanted him.

He slipped in with ease, pushing passed that ring of tight muscles and shuddering at the feel of it squeezing around the tip of his prick. When he showed signs of stopping there to enjoy it a moment Geralt pushed back onto him, pulling him closer with his crossed ankles, and Eskel huffed in amusement but obeyed. It didn’t take long before he was fully inside of him, feeling him contracting around him in pleasure, Geralt’s eyes closed and his back arching ever so slightly off of the bed as he enjoyed their joining.

Eskel could not have found a better home than here, where he was. His own breaths shuddered, head dropping as he closed his eyes and took it in. The warmth that spread through him had little to do with the sexual pleasure and everything to do with how close they were. How impossibly close, but never close enough. Suddenly he needed to be closer, needed to have his arms around his love- Eskel moved them around until he was laying against Geralt’s chest, worming his arms underneath him to hug him tight, feeling Geralt’s thighs squeeze around him as he did.

Eyes shut tight, Eskel buried his nose against Geralt, letting it all wash over him and melting the second he felt those strong arms envelope him right back. One hand flat against his back, the other in his hair, scratching at his scalp and cradling his head with such care.

He breathed. That’s all he could do then, as they were, closer now than ever before. He felt wrapped up tight and safe in that moment, and felt complete, like the warmth in his chest would never go away. It felt like the cumulation of all he’d ever wanted each and every time he took such care of his love, what he’d always been chasing every time he wrapped his lips around his prick or felt how warm Geralt was around his fingers.

All of it had led to this, feeling impossibly close and complete now with him. Like they trusted and loved each other like no other could, the intimacy of it all making the corners of his eyes wet with emotion.

“You alright?”

He cracked his eyes open, peeking up through thankfully dry eyelashes at the gentlest of tones. Concern was written on the downpull of Geralt’s frown but Eskel tugged one of his hands free, reaching up to sooth it away with the rough pad of his thumb.

“‘M fine.” He pressed his hips closer and shifted just enough to feel their connection, sighing into it. “I just...love you.”

It sounded lame to his own ears, but mercifully Geralt didn’t tease him over it. He kissed his thumb instead, a softness taking over his expression then as he rubbed gentle circles into his back and held him closer.

“Love you too.” He shifted as well, a noise escaping his throat as his now trapped prick rubbed against Eskel’s stomach. “But can the cuddling come later? After?”

Eskel kissed the pectoral he’d been burying his nose into, humming thoughtfully. “Didn’t think you a cuddler, Geralt. Wonder what your bard would do with that knowledge.”

He got bucked for that tease, breaking the softness that had overcome him and replacing it with warm humor. To say Geralt had been patient with him would have been a lie but he had allowed him this much so far; the least Eskel could do was help him come, and then get on with his soggy emotional cuddling.

It still took a lot out of him to peel himself off of Geralt enough to be able to continue on like he wanted. He had also gone a little soft in his emotions, though he knew it wouldn’t take too long to remedy that - a few rocks of his hips brought most of the interest back, tingles of pleasure working their way through him, deep inhales through his nose letting his brain go a little foggy with the scent of oil and sex about them. Since Geralt had had plenty of time to get used to him, the glide of his prick in and out of his arse was smooth, allowing a nice amount of friction to have them both letting out small noises.

Chasing his own arousal had never really mattered to him, but helping Geralt build up his own sounded quite delightful. Especially so with how Geralt laid himself out so beautifully for him, one arm back behind his head so he could take in what Eskel was doing to him, for him, the other reaching down to take one of Eskel’s hands. His heart skipped in his chest as their fingers laced together, his hips starting a steady rhythm.

He hadn’t found quite the right position yet, though. That bundle of nerves was evading him; Eskel frowned in concentration, feeling the scars on his face pull at the movement, searching for it as he tilted his hips here and there. And he knew the moment he found it because it jerked a moan out of the both of them, Geralt bucking and clenching tightly around him as his eyes squeezed tight and his back arched upward.

Yes, he quite liked helping Geralt find pleasure. He did his best to aim for that spot, knowing Geralt liked it hit dead on - he himself usually preferred a light touch there, not really caring for how brightly it took over his brain when it was impacted so directly - and doing his best to do that for him. Like always it wasn’t a perfect thing, his cock slipping out once and he had to unlace their fingers to guide himself back in while Geralt hissed at his absence, clenching around air and telling him quite clearly how he needed his cock, needed to feel full, full of him.

Soon, Eskel felt the telltale signs of his own orgasm nearing. A coil in the pit of his gut clenching and needing release, his breaths coming quicker, his heart joining the symphony of fast breaths and skin hitting skin in his ears. Geralt’s neglected cock lay against his stomach in a pool of pre, begging to be touched, and Eskel reached for it then, dragging Geralt’s hand with his own by their laced fingers.

With both of their hands gripped tight around Geralt’s cock, gliding easy with the help of his precum and the oil that had kept Eskel’s hand slick, it did not take long for Geralt’s movements to become jerky. His eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight but mouth slightly open, the only sounds coming out of him now being his shuddering breaths. A few more jerks of their hands and he exhaled sharply, come spurting out as Eskel fucked him through his orgasm, swallowing back his own moan at the feel of it hitting Geralt and making him contract almost painfully around him.

This time, Eskel felt his need far too heavily to think of stopping himself. His hips stuttered and words fell out from between his lips, incoherent things that slipped out as pleasure washed over him as well, his spend soon dripping out from Geralt as he slowed and finally stopped altogether.

It took effort to not drop down on top of him. Eskel stretched his back and groaned at a pop, then lowered himself onto his love, not caring that they were covered in sweat and spend - and Geralt didn’t care either, wrapping his arms around him to tug him close and placing kisses to the top of his head. 

Eskel did his best to not slip out of him, pressing them close as he burrowed himself right back into his love’s chest, feeling that warmth spread through him yet again. He was home in his arms, wrapped up safe and warm, and if he had any say in the matter he would not be leaving anytime soon. 

Then, Geralt had come down reeking of the warm, dusky scent of love, and Eskel had understood what that feeling was. He’d tucked the feeling away, drank with his brothers, and forgot all about it. Until the next time he’d seen Jaskier of course, and every time after that. Watching the two of them was hard at first; he’d seen spouses interacting before, the love some had held for each other, and he’d seen couples who raged and hated as passionately as they’d once loved. This was different- each glance was an all consuming inferno, each harsh word softened with the love that the two of them reeked of. He’d pretended to be busy more often than not that winter, both to give them space and to clear his head.

He needed no one, and was content to remain that way. When the snows had finally cleared and given way to spring Eskel had set out alone, waving goodbye to his brothers and letting Jaskier squeeze him in a hug that he didn’t want to pull away from. The Path welcomed him as it always did, with a solitary breeze and the sound of Scorpion following obediently alongside him. He was fine on his own.

                                                       -*-

The bar is loud tonight, the air stifling with the press of too many bodies, but Eskel sits among the crowd and drinks his ale. No one sits at his table and that’s how he likes it- the barmaid hardly stops long enough to give him his drink, fear clinging to her like a dress. Eskel makes sure to leave his coin far enough away that she can skitter back later to snatch it up. He’s only here for the night anyhow; he’s after a contract near Oxenfurt for what he suspects is a leshen killing in the forest, and when the others wake tomorrow, hungover, Eskel will be gone. He’s fine on his own, he reminds himself, and downs the rest of his ale. He hasn’t drunk nearly enough to make his head spin or really affect him, but pretending, blending into the crowd makes him feel more human, and he’s willing to waste coin on watered down ale for tonight.

He waves the barmaid away when she comes back, pitcher clutched in her shaking hands, and decides to head to bed. A hand touches his shoulder before he can get up, featherlight and sliding between the spikes on his pauldrons. Eskel’s heart leaps into his throat, and thankfully the din of the crowd is enough to hide his uncomfortable growl.

“Fancy seeing you here, wolf.” The voice is achingly familiar, and his eyes track Jaskier’s lithe movements as he plops into the seat across from him, grinning. The warmth has done him well- his hair curls attractively at the nape of his neck, damp, and Eskel averts his eyes respectfully so as not to stare.

“Jaskier, I thought you two went west.” He looks back up only once he’s certain he won’t stare, and he finds Jaskier watching him, smiling. “Where is Geralt?”

“Hunting.” Jaskier’s voice is light, but Eskel nearly chokes on the washed out scent of his worry. “I, on the other hand, had a performance in Oxenfurt.”

“What are you doing here, then?” Eskel forces neutrality into his tone, polite interest at most, and sees Jaskier’s lips twitch down momentarily before that grin is back.

“Geralt isn’t fond of the city, so we meet here.” Jaskier motions to the barmaid, smiling graciously and winking when she brings him an ale. She giggles, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and Jaskier tilts his head, whispering something to her. Her gaze flicks toward Eskel for a second, losing some of its warmth, and Eskel feels it like a physical blow. He doesn’t react though, merely toys with the empty cup in front of him and ignores the two until the barmaid has left again. Jaskier sighs dramatically when she walks away, downing half his drink and leaning back in his chair. Eskel tilts his head, raising a brow, and Jaskier sighs again.

“What?” He can tell when Jaskier wants to say something, but Jaskier merely shakes his head and smiles.

“Thinking is all. What brings you here? I would have though you’d be further east by now.” Jaskier sips at his ale as Eskel talks, blue eyes trained on his face, attention solely on him. Warmth blooms in his chest, and he shrugs weakly.

“There’s a contract nearby for a leshen, so I though I’d take it before moving on. Scorpion could use new shoes.”

“Geralt said the same thing when we got down the mountain. You witchers and your horses.” Jaskier’s voice is fond, and though he knows it isn’t for him, a small part of him clings to the words. The barmaid comes back to fill Jaskier’s cup, and Jaskier turns his attention to her. Eskel watches the easy way that they interact, the hand she lays on his upper arm, and his neck burns. Something that she says though upsets Jaskier, and he murmurs quietly before shaking his head and sending her away with a handful of coin.

“Something wrong?”

“It appears that I’ll be headed back to Oxenfurt after all. They’re full up for the night.”

“Stay with me.” The words escape him before he can choke them back, and Jaskier’s eyes widen before he beams.

“You’re too kind, dear, but I couldn’t impose.” He’s being given an out- Eskel should take it, knows it, but his traitorous heart whispers different things to him.

“It isn’t imposing. I’m only here for the night, and you can have the room when I leave.” Jaskier considers him quietly, fingers drumming against the tabletop, and smiles.

“You’ve saved me again it seems.”

Eskel struggles to keep his cheeks from going pink, and he clears his throat, letting go of his cup. Someone’s refilled it with ale, but he doesn’t think he could stand to drink anymore right now and he doesn’t want to anyhow. What he wants is to go to bed, and be gone in the morning before Jaskier wakes. Jaskier seems to see the way his shoulders droop, and he stands up, leaving his half empty cup on the table as he nods toward the stairs. Eskel leads him from the common area without complaint, and up to his- their room. The room is dark when Eskel steps in, but he navigates it without difficulty and lights the candles in the room with a wave of the hand. Jaskier blinks at the change in light, clutching at his bag and glancing around. Eskel waves for Jaskier to come in fully, undoing the clasp to his sheathes and moving to lean them against the wall.

He listens but doesn’t watch as Jaskier sets his things down and looks around, trying and failing not to be nosy. Eskel doesn’t have anything in particular he’s hellbent on hiding, so he allows Jaskier his time to snoop and goes about getting out of his armor. There’s the soft click of a tongue, and he turns in time for Jaskier to catch him and turn him back. Jaskier’s fingers work at the clasps easily, and pieces of his armor fall away before he can even protest. Jaskier walks around him in a slow circle, inspecting each piece before setting it aside. Eskel draws the line at getting his chest armor off, nudging Jaskier’s hands away and shucking it off so he’s left in just the plainclothes he wears underneath. Jaskier looks at him approvingly and nods, smiling up at him. Eskel feels himself smiling back before he can think better of it, the motion tugging at his scar. Jaskier’s eyes are soft as they stare at each other, and Eskel can feel Jaskier’s breath on his face and-

Eskel comes back to his senses just as Jaskier goes up on his tiptoes, pressing a featherlight kiss to his lips. He loses his sense just as quickly, body singing with the contact, and he watches more than he feels his hands draw Jaskier closer. He feels Jaskier’s hands slide up his chest, tapping little patterns into his skin as Eskel tilts his head and kisses him deeper. Jaskier melts against his chest, leans into his arms, and Eskel comes crashing back to his body all at once. He jerks back as if burned, a hand flying up to cover his mouth. It’s wrong, what he’s doing. It’s wrong and he did it anyway. Jaskier blinks, sways on his feet as Eskel steps back, and he seems confused, watching as Eskel backs up against the door and clutches his medallion, thumb worrying at the pointed nose.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I don’t know what I was doing-”

“Kissing me?” Jaskier still seems confused, and he takes a few steps toward Eskel until he sees the way his hands are shaking. His expression turns soft, sad, and he stops a foot away. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No- yes, I can’t- do that to Geralt.” Eskel isn’t sure what he’s trying to say; his head is spinning and his lips tingle and he can still feel the warmth from Jaskier leaning against him. Understanding blooms in Jaskier’s eyes, and he closes the distance between them, gently taking one of Eskel’s hands and running a thumb over his knuckles. Eskel’s whole world focuses on that point of contact, and he stares as Jaskier talks.

“Geralt knows.” Eskel’s eyes fly up to meet Jaskier’s, searching for the lie he knows he must be telling, but Jaskier’s eyes are earnest and lovely.

“I- what?” Jaskier laughs softly and tugs Eskel over to sit down on the bed, taking both his hands now.

“Eskel, when is the last time someone kissed you? Told you they loved you?”

“Voluntarily?” Jaskier hums an affirmative, and he feels something uncomfortably like sadness squirm in his chest. He’s fine on his own, he reminds himself, though Jaskier’s hands are warm and holding his tight. “I don’t know.”

“How often do you look at people, wishing you could have what they have, if only for a moment?” Eskel doesn’t respond, iron claws clutching at his chest, and Jaskier continues. “I don’t want you to be lonely anymore.”

“You- don’t have to sleep with me.” It’s the only thing that Eskel can think to say, and Jaskier laughs quietly.

“While I’ve thought about it, that’s not what I mean. I love him, with all my heart. But Eskel, I won’t deny the way that I feel about you, too. Or ignore the sadness that comes over you whenever you see us together. You’re so sad love, and it breaks my heart.” Jaskier brings Eskel’s hands up and kisses each knuckle gently, watching as Eskel’s lips quiver.

“It- it doesn’t, bother you two?”

“No, it doesn’t. I couldn’t possibly spend every full moon with him the way he needs, so sometimes, I let Lambert take him for the night, and come back when they’ve both been sated. Seeing him happy, content, makes me happy too.” Jaskier grins then, letting go of a hand to cup Eskel’s cheek. Eskel leans into the touch immediately, closing his eyes as Jaskier’s thumb sweeps gently across his scar. Pleasant tingles shoot over his skin, and he turns to nose against Jaskier’s palm. “If you aren’t comfortable, Eskel, tell me and I’ll never press. I just…”

“I can’t- sleep with you.” His voice shakes and the sound embarrasses him, but Jaskier makes a soft noise in his throat. Eskel looks at him then, and he can feel hot tears stinging at his eyes, but Jaskier merely cups his face in both hands now and kisses the corners of his eyes. “Watching you and Geralt- hurts.”

“It doesn’t have to, love. There’s space for you with us, if you want it. For as long or as short as you want it. And if all you want is kissing, or even just someone to hold your hand, that’s all we have to be. Nothing you don’t want.”

Jaskier can’t kiss his tears away fast enough, and Eskel feels something hard and cold release in his chest. Suddenly he can breathe, and he lets out a small sob. He expects Jaskier to recoil, unsure of what to do with a crying witcher, but Jaskier merely crawls into his lap, tucking Eskel’s face into his neck and petting his hair as Eskel clings tight to him. Jaskier hums a soft little song, rocking slowly, and presses kisses to the side of Eskel’s head. They stay that way for a while, pressing close to each other and sharing in the warmth of their embrace. Eskel’s voice is quiet, muffled against Jaskier’s skin, but Jaskier hears him all the same. “This feels like a dream that I’ll wake up from.”

He yelps suddenly, jerking a bit to the side when Jaskier pinches at his ribs. Jaskier laughs softly, smoothing his hands down Eskel’s shirt and placing a kiss on the corner of Eskel’s mouth. “I would say that proves you’re awake, hmm?”

“No wonder Geralt loves you. Nothing but charm.” He cracks a small, hesitant smile that grows when Jaskier chuckles. This time when they kiss, Eskel is the one to lean in, kissing him slow and sweet. Jaskier relaxes into the kiss, lips warm and familiar, and Eskel feels the bard's fingers dance over his chest. He can’t tell if it’s a nervous habit or something he does when he can’t use his hands, but Eskel reaches up to take hold of them. He places one of Jaskier’s hands on his neck and keeps hold of the other one, purring softly when Jaskier’s fingers slip into his hair and scratch lightly at his scalp. Eskel wraps an arm around Jaskier, tugging him a bit closer, and Jaskier sighs against his lips. Eskel loses himself in the way that Jaskier’s lips feel against him, the way he tastes, and Jaskier’s cheeks are ruddy when he pulls back for a breath. Eskel chases him, catching him in another brief kiss, and Jaskier laughs softly.

“Not going anywhere love, just want to get more comfortable. If I shed some clothes, will that make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” Eskel’s chest burns with happiness at the considerate question, and Jaskier slips from his lap to remove most of his clothes. He keeps his smallclothes on, but he comes back and leans down to kiss Eskel softly.

“You were going to leave tomorrow, right?” Eskel hums an affirmative, and Jaskier presses their foreheads together.

“Then you need sleep, and that means it’s time for bed.” Eskel considers this and finds no fault in his logic. He strips his own pants off, far too warm, but keeps his shirt on. Something in him doesn’t want to be completely exposed, not now, but Jaskier doesn’t say a word when Eskel blows out the candles. He just holds the blanket up and welcomes Eskel into bed. Eskel lays down next to him, unsure of where to put his limbs or what really to do, but Jaskier has it under control. He tugs Eskel until Eskel’s head is tucked under his chin and one of his arms is thrown over Jaskier’s waist. After a moment of consideration Eskel slides a leg between Jaskier’s and Jaskier hitches his leg up higher so they can lay pressed closer together. He hums softly, finding he likes this, and falls asleep to Jaskier humming a soft tune.

                                                         -*-

“He’s a dream.” Eskel stirs at the sound of Jaskier talking, drifting between waking and dreaming. Calloused fingers card through his hair and he leans up into the touch, purring. There’s a soft laugh and a kiss is pressed to the nape of his neck. There’s someone very warm pressed to his back, spooning him, and someone else sitting on the edge of the bed playing with his hair. His eyes snap open, knowing there were only two of them when he went to bed. There’s a soft shushing sound, and a hand- Jaskier’s- pets over his chest. “Just Geralt, sweetheart. He came back sooner than expected.”

“Coming to bed?” Eskel grinds out, voice hoarse with the sleep still tugging at his limbs. He hears a soft hum from Geralt, the faint rumble of a purr building in the other witcher’s throat. He listens as Geralt’s armor and clothes come off, and then another body is crawling into bed in the dark of a predawn morning. Jaskier grumbles at being squished against the wall, but Eskel purrs loudly and that shuts Jaskier up. Geralt smells like home- of pine forests and snow and metal, and he loops an arm over Geralt’s side as Geralt tucks himself up against Eskel’s chest. Eskel drifts back to sleep pressed between the two lovers, warm and safe, and listens to the beat of Jaskier’s fluttering heart.

He's sweating when he wakes up. The sun has just broken over the horizon but there are two arms over his waist and two bodies curled around him. Eskel is on his back, Geralt's head on his shoulder and Jaskier's tucked against his neck, and he feels the happiest he has in a long time. Idle fingers draw patterns across his abdomen and up his chest, and he turns to peek at Geralt. The other witcher is awake, probably has been since the sun came up, and Eskel regards him in happy confusion.

"You're okay with this?" He has to hear it again, not wanting this to be some sick joke. A small smile graces Geralt's face, and he scoots a bit closer.

"It was my idea. He worried about you." Eskel turns to look at Jaskier, fast asleep and curled up against his side. Geralt surprises him by continuing, talking low so Jaskier wont wake. "He came to me one day, trying not to cry, telling me he was horrible, but that I wasn't the only witcher he loved."

"Me?"

Geralt nods. A sleepy voice chimes in then, raspy with disuse but melodious all the same. "He told me that my heart was big, and he knew that from the moment we got together. Big sap. Gave me his blessing to pursue you, as long as that's what you wanted too."

Gentle kisses are placed on the soft skin under his jaw, and Eskel arches his head to the side on instinct. Jaskier hums a thank you and places another smattering of kisses over his neck. "What- is this then?"

"Whatever we want it to be, I suppose." Jaskier murmurs against his throat, going up onto one elbow to look down at him. "Something specific you had in mind?"

"A kiss?" His voice is more timid than he'd expect, but Jaskier chuckles softly and leans down.