#leskel

Letho knows why people see him in the club and think that he’s the bouncer on a break. He's certainly got the height and more than enough bulk to do the job. Hell, Auckes had to get him a custom uniform t-shirt with the club's name still achingly stretched across his shoulders. Viper.

He supposes it doesn’t help that he’s standing by the door or in his club shirt whenever the misunderstanding occurs. 

Regardless, Letho is a co-owner of Viper, thanks very much.

He just sometimes has to step in as a bouncer whenever Ivar calls out because neither Auckes nor Serrit want to leave their places behind the bar.

But Letho has done the job enough times to know that when someone in an odd outfit is at the door while the sun is still up, it’s either going to be a great time or a terrible one.

Still, the man is handsome even in his bulky hazmat pants and top. The healed scars across his cheek are only just visible through the netting that falls down from it had been pinned to the rim of his hat. 

It’s a strange ensemble but Letho owns a gay club so he’s seen weirder outfits in his time.

“We don’t open til six,” he politely informs the would-be customer. 

The man looks surprised, and then embarrassed. He takes off the hat and lets it rest on the equipment beside him that Letho is only just noticing. “No, sorry. I’m not here for the club. I'm here for the bees,” he explains as though that clears everything up.

“The bees?” Letho repeats. The stranger’s expectant face turns confused. "What bees?"

That's when he hears the shouting.

"Eskel! Oh thank god!" Serrit slides to a halt between Letho and the stranger. "Letho, this is Eskel. He's here for the bees."

"What bees?" Letho growls, his patience wearing thin. Serrit doesn't even blink at his tone and to his surprise, neither does the bee man.

Eskel.

Eskel mostly seems relieved that someone knows what he's talking about it. Well, Letho is pretty sure he can also see the faint hint of a smirk but that's not good enough for Letho. He wants that man's whole smile. 

"The ones on the roof.”

“What the fuck?” Letho wonders if he has a concussion. Maybe he should stop stepping in as a bouncer and they should just hire a backup for when Ivar is out. 

“We got a beehive installed on the roof!” Auckes shouts from behind the bar, where he's restocking for the night. 

"Yes!" Serrit says brightly. "Just that! A beehive on the roof. Isn't it marvelous! The bees are dying, you know."

Letho doesn't want to complain about his adopted brothers or his bulk because he sees neither as a burden. But he does wonder if any tension in his large muscles cause extra strain for headaches as a result of his brothers when they pull shit like "applying for axe throwing permits" or "putting a beehive on the roof of their nightclub without telling Letho."

"When exactly did you do this?" He rubs at his temples and tries to hold in another growl. Not because he thinks Eskel will mind but if he's going to growl at the handsome bee man, he'd like them both to be in more of a private setting with at least 100% less brothers present. 

"Last week!"

“When you went to the dentist.”

Letho wants to scream at that but the pretty man is hiding a thick head of hair that Letho wants to tug at and he already looks appropriately horrified by his siblings and co-owners so Letho needs to stay the sane one in the situation. Maybe it's Letho's fault for not going up to the roof every few days to make sure his brothers hadn't installed a beehive up there. Who is to say?

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea that they--" Eskel starts and Letho holds up a hand to cut him off.

"They're co-owners," Letho admits to him. "They have a two-thirds majority. I just wish they didn't use it for this shit. Just please tell me that it's legal," he begs Eskel, maybe going a bit heavy on the begging, just to see his response. “Doesn’t seem like putting a beehive on top of a roof in a big city would be legal.”

It's not nothing. Eskel turns away, his cheeks just slightly redder than they were seconds prior. Maybe Letho could get used to bees if Eskel comes along with them.

“It is," he assures him. Eskel isn't quiet, not really. His volume is just a bit lower. His tone more than makes up for it with warmth and firmness. “If you’ve got someone licensed to take of it.”

“You’ve got a bee license?” Letho asks hopefully, gesturing to Eskel's get-up and equipment. 

“A licenzzzzze.”

“Are you guys unionizzzzzed?”

“I'm a master beekeeper," Eskel says directly to Letho, as though he can't hear Auckes and Serrit. Letho hopes to Melitele that this man is single. 

“Brilliant. How about I show you the roof?”

  And Letho shows him the roof. 

And then does it again. 

And again.

Eskel comes back every week, always before the club opens, and always in his funny beekeeping suit. Two weeks in, he admits to Letho that he doesn’t always have to wear it. But in a new place, he prefers to show up in it so he doesn’t have to get dressed while people watch. Tragic.

"I didn’t know your hive that well at first. And I wasn't sure how agitated they'd be. It’s an awkward item of clothing to get in and out of.”

But then Eskel shows up in tailored jeans that only just manage to contain his thighs. And a sturdy plaid shirt that Letho knows is from Duluth Trading Company. He doesn’t have a use for them himself, but he spent more than a new nights as a teenager paging through their catalog of lumberjack men posing in flannel shirts. It’s like Eskel walked out from between the pages.

Only better. Because Eskel is real and in front of Letho. 

He never questions why Letho sticks around while he checks the hive. Instead, he gently leads Letho over to introduce him to the bees. And Letho lets him do it.

Letho isn’t scared of the bees, perhaps just a bit wary. But Eskel speaks to him with a calm voice, explaining how there’s nothing to be afraid of and Letho, who is always so aware of just how large he is, lets Eskel encourage him into letting bees crawl on his hand. 

He's so mesmerized by their little legs and fuzzy bodies that he forgets that he's on top of the roof of his club next to a hive with hundreds of them. More than that, he feels protected with Eskel which should be ridiculous given his size but it’s not. 

Letho can’t remember ever feeling that way before. Eskel isn’t small himself and Letho wants to return the favor. He needs to make Eskel feel as safe and precious as he made Letho.

He waits and he learns, and with each week, Eskel opens up to him more and more, blossoming like a flower that his bees will no doubt dive head first into.

He finds that Eskel is a bit shy when they’re not talking about bees. At first. But the more they talk, the more animated he becomes. 

“No, I’ve got a farm just outside of the city. The bees are just a side gig,” Eskel explains, gesturing to the bees. “I helped one friend and then another, and then the next thing I know, my cousin is asking if I want to go legit for it. But most of the time, it’s the farm and farmers markets.”

“The elusive farmer’s market gay.”

“Not that elusive.” Eskel rolls his eyes. “Half of my customers are preppy white gays with reusable bags.”

“I didn’t mean as an attendee.” Letho bumps their shoulders together and feels like he is going to shoot off into the sky when Eskel stays leaning against him. “I’m sure there are plenty of lads flirting with you. I meant as a vendor.”

Eskel grimaces.

“A lot of suburban housewives?” Letho guesses. “I know the type. The amount of times straight women want to have their bachelorette parties downstairs in the club is wild.”

“It’s like they’re going through a revolving door,” Eskel blurts out. “Like they’ve never been told that they shouldn't do something. Every bored lady with a Cricut machine thinks they can start their own business by printing inspirational phrases on mugs.”

Letho's laugh booms and he rocks back on his ass from where he's sitting. When he settles again, Eskel’s shoulder meets his, pushed back together right where they started. Letho smiles at Eskel and is delighted to see Eskel hold his eye contact and smile back.

"You can come in, you know, when we’re done. No cover for you. I'm sure Auckes wouldn't charge you for a drink." Neither would I, if I was bartending, Letho doesn’t say. 

Eske ducks his head and seems to regret his answer even before he says it. 

"Not really my scene," Eskel admits like it's a secret. Maybe it is. 

People can be twats. Letho knows this. He's heard plenty of insults from their customers who either think that the biggest man they've ever seen is either too dumb to understand their rude words or they just don't care who hears them. He hates that his eyes flick involuntarily to Eskel's scars. 

“I never liked clubs before my scars,” Eskel assures him dryly. “A bit too loud for me. I'm more of a board game night kind of guy.”

That's a shame. Mostly because Letho wants nothing more than to lose himself in the music and Eskel on the dance floor but with how hard he’s falling, he might have lost himself already.

But he'd trade in the dance floor for slow dancing in his kitchen with Eskel after a game night. There is no question. As long as Eskel is there, Letho will be happy. 

Letho doesn’t give up though. He’s slowly falling in love with this man who loves these delicate creatures who have made a home on the roof of Viper. He watches Eskel chatter on to the bees as though it’s a two-sided conversation. 

He and Eskel text constantly, complaining about brothers and small businesses. He wants to slip away with Eskel every time the club gets busy. He wants to support him at farmers markets, talking up his products and glaring at the shoppers who dare to flirt with his man. 

Hopefully, Eskel will be his man. 

So Letho changes tactics and decides not to waste anymore time. 

The next time Eskel shows up, beekeeping hat in hand, Letho has a picnic basket, blanket, and a game of Scrabble tucked between the top of the handles, ready to go. The club is already loud from a fundraiser so he just crooks his finger at Eskel. He swings the basket into his hand and they head up to the roof.

Eskel eyes Letho's cargo curiously but he doesn’t ask. If Letho is right, he looks almost hopeful.

"Dinner. And a game. I figured we could make a date of it,” Letho says confidently. “If that's all right with you," he adds at the end.

Eskel’s eyes rise from the basket to Letho. He’s only an inch shorter than Letho, really. But Letho’s bulk and the fact that he’s ahead of Eskel on the stairs gives them both a skewed perspective.

But Eskel smiles at him and it iss lovely and not hidden by the beekeeping hat he doesn’t wear inside the club anymore.

"Me, you, and the bees?" Eskel asks softly. He climbs up the rest of the steps and meets Letho at the top landing. Letho can feel the heat of Eskel next to him. If he moved his hand just a few inches forward, he could rub Eskel's flannel between his fingers. 

"Exactly."

"You don't have to be downstairs?" Eskel checks. 

'Downstairs' is where a 24 marathon dance-a-thon is currently running to raise money for Planned Parenthood. It’s loud and they hired extra staff just for the occasion.

"They'll call me if they need me."

They won't, actually. Because Letho threatened Auckes and Serrit both with blackmail on the other if either one of them interrupted his date with Eskel. 

"A date sounds great.” Eskel is so close to him now that Letho almost forgets why they’re there. He grips tightly at the basket and says the first thing that comes to mind. 

"I don't have much in the way of board games. But I did swipe Ivar's Scrabble."

Eskel snorts and looks away for a moment. He doesn’t go far and Letho can tell he’s not going to. He’ll go to the bees, sure, but he’ll come back to Letho. 

"Scrabble sounds good."

It does sound good in theory but Letho didn’t take into account how different the roof would be during the club operating at 100%.

Five minutes into the game, the Scrabble board is vibrating due to the roof shaking with the music coming from Viper. The little wooden tiles are plinking together as they shift and refuse to stay in their designated squares. The B tile is taking tips from the bees on the roof and buzzing as it vibrates right off the board.

But Letho doesn’t care that they can’t play Scrabble because his idiot brothers are going to get them noise complaints in the middle of the day. All Letho cares about is the fact that Eskel is laughing without abandon. Adorable giggles from this hulking hunk next to him as his date tries in vain to salvage their board game. It’s so charming and so cute.

Eskel catches his eye and smiles as he laughs. Then Eskel’s hand on Letho’s thigh as he leans in to kiss him. 

Even as they’re still laughing at their failed Scrabble game, Letho takes his big hands and gently cups Eskel’s face. 

Even with the bees buzzing and the roof shaking, it’s perfect. He kisses him again and again and soon, Eskel’s hands are on top of his, neither of them letting go until they both need the oxygen. 

“Can I see you anywhere but here?" Letho asks hopefully. "Tomorrow?”

“I’ve got the farmers market.” Eskel sounds gutted by the prospect and Letho can see that he’s planning on suggesting he skip it. Letho doesn’t want that. He just wants to be with Eskel.

“How about I come? I can rescue you from the flirty housewives,” he offers, voicing his fantasy. 

“My protector.” Eskel rolls his eyes but his smile is so soft that Letho leans in to kiss him again. “I’d like that. If you don't mind spending your morning among so many people. I'll even buy you breakfast. Then the afternoon is yours.”

“Then I’ll bee there to help you unload. Get it? Bee there. Bees.”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

-

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Geralt has had enough of Lambert and Eskel’s bickering. 

Without a word, he’s left the safety of the keep and into the harsh winter cold. The brisk air clears his senses as he marches through the snow, muttering to himself about the pettiness of the argument. Really, the two should just take it out in the sword ring, but Geralt’s in no mood to tell them so. 

In the thick of the forest, Geralt finally breathes his sigh of relief and embraces the chill. It’s so peaceful. He could just set up a camp here for the rest of the winter, alone and content. 

Except, he’s not alone. 

Sword already drawn, Geralt whips around, stopping his blade just before the neck of his stalker. Before him stands a man, brown hair, bright blue eyes with a grin to match, and thin clothing that could hardly keep anyone warm. He is a fool, but more than that, Geralt can smell the magic radiating off of him, the deceit and treachery. 

“Come now, Witcher,” the man holds his hands up in mock defense. “Are you really going to kill an innocent man?”

“If you were either of those, I’d already have put my sword away,” Geralt growls back. 

The man laughs and to Geralt’s surprise, presses closer to the blade. It’s enough to draw blood, but as the scent fills Geralt’s nose, the wound starts to heal over, distracing Geralt from his tumultuous thoughts.

“I only take my fill,” the man answers, a small smile still on his face. “My lovers come to me willingly and leave on their own accord.”

Geralt has heard this story before and he’s not about to be swayed any time soon. “Then perhaps some of your kind might still be alive.”

The man shrugs at this and pushes Geralt’s sword away with his finger tips. The sword falls away with ease, Geralt staring at it as if he doesn’t have control over his own muscles. All he has to do is slice and the whole ordeal will be over with. Yet, something stays his hand, as if he is grateful for this unusual meeting. 

“What will you do with me then, Witcher?” the man breathes, daring to take a step closer. 

Geralt grips tight onto his sword, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, a subtle temptation enters his mind, an offering laid on the table. He really shouldn’t. It could jeopardize the safety of the keep. Then again, he’s got three other witchers on his side and one taste couldn’t hurt. 

“I’m not falling for your tricks, Incubus,” Geralt snarls, trying to fight off the growing curiosity. 

The man chuckles at this, shaking his head. “I’m not doing anything. In fact, I’m suppressing my powers right now. It is you who is falling.”

Geralt swallows, the click loud in his ears as his own words betray him. He’s lost it. After all these years of being a witcher, he is finally losing control of his mind. His resolve grows weaker by the second and then Geralt decides he has nothing to lose. At least, not this winter. 

With a grunt, Geralt grabs the man by the wrist and charges towards the keep, his teeth grinding together as the man laughs. 

“Oh, Witcher, I think we’ll have fun.”

Geralt purses his lips, ignoring the warmth of the man’s skin. “It’s Geralt,” he mutters. 

“And I’m Jaskier,” the man answers, quickening his steps to walk alongside Geralt. “I would ask you to lighten your grip on my wrist, but I don’t think you have any intention of letting me go.”

Ignoring the wink, Geralt loosens his hold just a little as they trudge up the steep slopes. Somehow, Jaskier manages to keep up with no complaint and when they enter the courtyard of the keep, he reeks of nothing but lust. Geralt shivers, his own needs surfacing as he drags Jaskier through the doors, yelling out Lambert’s and Eskel’s names. At this, Jaskier’s face lights up and Geralt submits to the losing battle within him. Without waiting for the others, Geralt charges to his room, all but throwing Jaskier down on the bed. 

With a bright laugh, Jaskier transforms, his clothes disappearing as horns sprout out of his head, a tail snaking out from underneath him. 

“Eager, aren’t we?” he teases. 

Geralt only grunts in reply, ridding himself of his own clothes before climbing on top of Jaskier, shutting him up with a firm kiss. The hands on Geralt’s thighs send a shiver up his spine and he opens his mouth to taste more of Jaskier. Their tongues sweep against each other, pulling moans out of the two of them as their needs only grow. Just as Geralt takes hold of Jaskier’s cock, thudding footsteps clamor into the room and Geralt breaks from the kiss to look at Eskel and Lambert. 

“What the fuck,” Lambert says eloquently for himself and Eskel. 

Geralt sits up, glaring at the witchers. “Get some steam off. I’m sick of listening to the two of you fight.”

Jaskier’s laughter fills the room and it breaks the spell holding onto Eskel and Lambert. Lambert is bare in an instant, forcing Geralt to move down so he can sit on top of Jaskier. He greedily takes Jaskier’s mouth with his own and Geralt is given a clear view of the wetness between his legs. Quickly licking his fingers, Geralt reaches down, rubbing Lambert’s clit and lips. His shaking legs are a beautiful sight, matched only by the moan that Jaskier swallows down. 

“Eskel?” Geralt asks, looking towards the last companion as he starts to finger Lambert. 

“Just...biding my time,” Eskel mutters as he removes the last of his clothing. 

Eskel always did like to watch, but the fact he isn’t on the bed yet worries Geralt. The hesitation is clear in Eskel’s eyes, ever the concerned lover. 

“It’s three witchers and one incubus. We can handle him,” Geralt reassures. 

At this, Lambert and Jaskier break their kiss, both turning to look at Eskel. Lambert pushes himself deeper onto Geralt’s fingers, throwing his head back while Jaskier massages his thighs. 

“As I was telling your wonderful friend, Geralt, here, I only take what I need,” Jaskier flashes a grin. “And Lambert is a pretty sight, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You all are,” Eskel lets slip and ducks his head while Geralt bites back his grin. 

Jaskier holds out a beckoning hand and that’s all it takes to bring Eskel over. He lays down next to Jaskier, rubbing his leaking cock against Jaskier’s thigh while running a hand along his chest. 

“If only all lovers were as thoughtful as you,” Jaskier sighs, bringing Eskel in for a kiss. 

It’s entrancing, watching Eskel and Jaskier, but Geralt is interrupted by Lambert’s nails digging into his thigh, his wet hole clenching around Geralt’s fingers. Geralt soothes him with kisses along his neck and guides him to Jaskier’s cock, removing his fingers before lowering Lambert down. Lambert takes Jaskier’s cock easily, letting himself sit with the fullness before beginning to move. 

“Oh, Lambert, you feel like heaven,” Jaskier moans, shifting his hips to match Lambert’s rhythm. 

“You know much about that?” Lambert teases breathlessly, bracing one hand on Eskel’s side, the other on Jaskier’s stomach. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jaskier manages to reply before Eskel captures his mouth again. 

Geralt could watch this forever, this mesmerizing scene of pure sex. He almost forgets his own neglected cock until he glances down to see the slick between Jaskier’s legs. Lambert’s wetness is beginning to mix with it and Geralt shivers, knowing what awaits him. Pulling at Jaskier’s legs, he is careful not to interrupt Lambert’s pleasure as he lines his cock up with Jaskier’s hole. As he pushes in, Geralt groans at the hot tightness that engulfs his cock, how ready Jaskier is with no need for preparation. It’s almost too much, but Geralt holds back his orgasm, resting his forehead against Lambert’s back. 

“Come now, Eskel,” Jaskier breathes. 

Glancing over Lambert’s shoulder, Geralt holds his breath as Eskel braces himself over Jaskier, his cock slowly sinking into Jaskier’s mouth. At this, Geralt can’t help but thrust sharply into Jaskier and mingled groans fill the room. The four take it slow at first, finding a matched pace but then, the hungry desire takes over. Eskel grabs onto one of Jaskier’s horns as he thrusts into that greedy mouth, losing himself to the talent of Jaskier and his tongue. If it wasn’t for Lambert’s hand on his back, Eskel would have lost his balance. 

“Fuck, you should have his mouth next time, Lambert,” Eskel moans. “He’ll make good work of your clit.”

“I want all of him,” Lambert gasps. “If I knew incubi could be like this, I would have had one sooner.”

Jaskier moans as he slams his cock into Lambert, matching Geralt’s harsh thrusts. 

“You two talk too much,” Geralt growls, reaching around to rub Lambert’s clit. 

Lambert throws his head back with a near shout, hand flying to grip tight onto Geralt’s hair. The mix of pain and pleasure shoots to Geralt’s cock and he pushes Jaskier forward with a rough thrust. Jaskier gags around Eskel’s cock, but he doesn’t pull away, instead swallowing Eskel to the hilt. It’s enough to send Eskel to the edge and he spills into Jaskier’s mouth with a heavy groan.

When Jaskier has sucked him dry, Eskel falls to the side, watching the three with bleary eyes. 

“You were wonderful,” Jaskier praises as he resumes his fucking of Lambert. “I can’t wait to see what else that cock of yours can do.”

His tail flicks over, but before Eskel can do anything, Geralt grabs hold of it, giving the tail a sharp tug. 

“We’re not finished,” Geralt grits out.

Jaskier’s eyes roll back, a gasp leaving him as his back arches. His cock slams into Lambert and Lambert shouts as he orgasms, slick sliding down Jaskier’s stomach in tear-like trails. Collapsing onto Jaskier, Lambert leaves Jaskier’s cock inside of him, letting Jaskier hold him close as Geralt chases his own release. 

Within a few more thrusts, Jaskier and Geralt succumb to their orgasm, seed filling up Lambert and Jaskier until the three men are shaking. 

It’s almost too quiet now, but the men don’t rush to say anything as Eskel helps clean them off. 

Once wiped down, the four arrange themselves on the bed, Geralt behind Jaskier and Eskel behind Lambert as Lambert and Jaskier curl into each other. It’s peaceful, but the reality of the situation sinks back in as Geralt runs his fingers along Jaskier’s horns. 

“Will you be leaving us tonight then?” he asks, making brief eye contact with Eskel and Lambert. 

The two don’t bother to hide their disappointment and their shoulders sag just a little as Jaskier stiffens.

He turns to Geralt with a slight frown, as if Geralt had spoken in tongues instead of asking a question. “I’d be a fool to forget the three of you so soon. And, we can’t have Eskel and Lambert fighting again, can we?”

“Hey,” Lambert protests amongst Eskel’s small laugh. 

Already, Geralt can see their argument fading away as Eskel caresses Lambert’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his temple. In fact, Geralt doesn’t even remember what their fight was about and Jaskier isn’t going to let him remember, capturing Geralt’s lips in a soft kiss. 

Perhaps he and his fellow witchers are under some kind of spell, but Geralt can’t find it in himself to care. For now, his companions are happy with Jaskier bringing a warmth Geralt hadn’t realized he had been missing.