#DDD Jaskier/Visenna

[dead-dove-diner]

ok I KNOW ur not into human poly but. consider. Jaskier, very drunk, snags Geralt (just as drunk or not who knows) saying he's found "a pretty lass to share" which they occasionally do when they aren't shagging each other stupid but the "pretty lass" is actually Geralt's mom.

YOU KNOW WHAT ANON?? YOURE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT!!!

Perfect! Gorgeous!!!

CW INCEST- Geralt/Jaskier/Visenna

They're invited into some druid celebration most definitely about sex and fertility and while its not exactly frowned upon to not join in on the celebrations, its also not exactly polite either- especially when they're also celebrating a successful hunt to rid the forest of the evil that had settled there and Geralt's been set as the guest of honor for the whole thing.

And Geralt loves sex! He does! But he's just killed the Leshy that's been bewitching the local wolves and hunting the forest and he's tired. It doesn't help that he'd been hoping Jaskier would help him with the nasty knot forming in his back before taking him to bed like he'd hinted at before Geralt trudged off on the hunt, because it was clear that wouldn't be happening now. The bard had been chatting up the same slight red haired woman for the better half of an hour, all grin and swagger and flirty little touches.

And Geralt does his best to tune them out, but he can't because suddenly Jaskier is looking over the womans shoulder at him, waving him over with a bright grin and Geralt's too weak to refuse him.

"Witcher!" he says, as he picks his way over to him, stepping around writhing bodies and discarded jugs of ale and mead.

He's the only one still dressed, stripped down to his trousers and shirt, armour dropped off to be fixed the next morning when celebrations finally end.

Jaskier, as always, has embraced the local attire as easily as breathing- and by that, he means the bard is completely naked save for the thick mat of hair on his chest and around his half hard cock.

"Witcher!" he says again, "Darling, I can't stand to see you sitting all alone on such a wonderful night but lucky for us this lovely lass has so graciously agreed to celebrate with us both! Together. At the same time."

Geralt hides the sudden rush fondness he feels with a roll of his eyes and grunt. They've shared women before, countless times if he's honest. Whores, barmaids, princesses- Yennefer, once, when they were all too full of drink to know better.

This woman, from what he can see from behind, looks as well suited to the job as any. Short, but sturdy, despite her slight frame- her thighs are thick with muscle, her waist small but strong, her breasts modest with large pink nipples perfect for sucking. Her hair washes down her back like a fall of fire, long and red, her cunt hidden away by a forest of the same colour.

"Witcher," Jaskier pulls him to his side as Geralt continues his slow appreciation. The woman is a marvel to behold, no doubt- soft in all the right places and perfect to fill the space between them. "My darling lady, fire-haired goddess of the forest-" Geralt stifles an amused snort at that, "may I introduce my lover and muse, The White Wolf, The Witcher-"

"Geralt of Rivia," her smooth voice interjects, and Geralt goes cold all over. His heart stutters, stomach dropping.

No.

Slowly, he drags his eyes from the pretty pink flush of her nipples, up her collarbones, over her jaw, lips, nose, and to piercing green eyes.

His throat clicks as he swallows and yet, somehow, his stirring cock hardens all the same.

"Visenna,"

"Oh, you know each other?" Jaskier claps his hands delightedly, a sharp slap that should break the spell that's fallen between them but doesn't. The space between them is buzzes like lightning, "How wonderful! This will make things much less awkward!"

A hysterical laugh echoes in the recesses of Geralt's brain. Fucking unlikely!

Visenna stays silent- watching as Geralt stares back mutely.

"So," the bard says, voice dropping to that low seductive purr that never fails to get Geralt going, "shall we find somewhere a little more private?"

The eye contact burns hotter than any flame.

"I think," she says slowly, still not looking away, "perhaps we should put on a little show."

Geralt's traitorous cock twitches, and Visenna smiles, slow and hot.

"Don't you agree, Geralt?"

And Geralt, tipsy and weak in the face of whatever the fuck this is, can only nod.

Visenna's smile grows.

"Good boy,"