#buckeed

It’s taken a while for the three of them to find a harmonious cadence. Unsurprisingly, Lambert and Eskel have both been trying to control the pace, shooting glares at each other that started out as challenging and have rapidly evolved into heated. And then Jaskier looks up at Eskel, fluttering his eyelashes while he pushes back into Lambert and does something that makes both of them gasp at the same time. The three of them settle into a tempo, the two witchers pushing into Jaskier with coordinated thrusts, and Jaskier lets out a wet gargle of approval. Jaskier is, apparently, the one calling the shots in this arrangement.

Geralt’s lips turn up in a smile that some might call fond. He’s had years to get to know Jaskier, to map his character and his body, to learn how he responds to touches and words and how to wring every ounce of pleasure from him. But this is new for Eskel and Lambert, and it seems that fucking Jaskier for the first time is as much of a revelation to them as it was to him.

“We giving you what you want, songbird?” Lambert asks. “You like this? You like getting fucked by both of us, taking two cocks at once?” His attempt at being domineering is only slightly undermined by the husky tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” Eskel says, softly, stroking a finger tenderly across Jaskier’s full cheek. “Do you like this?”

Jaskier doesn’t show any sign of stopping, so Geralt catches his eye, checking in. He’s red and sweaty and drool is running down his chin, but his gaze is sharp and focused. “He likes it,” Geralt assures them. “He likes it a lot.”

Satisfied with how events are proceeding, Geralt unlaces his breeches and takes himself in hand with long, lazy strokes.

“Fuck,” Lambert grunts, running a hand down Jaskier’s back and grabbing his ass. “You’re even prettier than Geralt, aren’t you? Bet you’d look even better covered in come. Want me to come all over you, splatter that lovely skin until you’re dripping?”

Jaskier moans, mouth still busy.

“Gods, Lambert,” Eskel puffs, “shut up or you’ll get me over the edge. And I want to enjoy this beautiful mouth for a while longer.” He beams down at Jaskier, who gives him a sloppy wink.

Geralt works himself faster, basking in the musky smell of sex and sweat and want. Jaskier looks back to him, noting his hand, his state, the heat of his gaze. Their eyes meet and Geralt can feel how much Jaskier enjoys this, being taken and being watched, the adoring eyes of the crowd.