#dreamer geralt x ciri

[dreamscapefics]

Imagine Geralt being too scared to pursue a relationship with Ciri since she's his child surprise, but Jaskier going right for her as soon as she's of age. Jas knows Geralt wants her so he makes a point to get a room next to his in every inn and fuck her up against the wall, growling against her neck and calling her his good girl, making her squeal on his cock and Geralt can hear every single noise, every moan and whimper and kiss

Anon! Thank you so much for sending this prompt. I loved it and honestly went crazy with it, so I hope you like it. It’s 7.4k (I know, I have a problem with length, oops?) of jealous pining!Geralt and Ciriskier getting it on. Please enjoy!

Tags: cunnilingus, cocksucking, overstimulation, incest/pseudo-incest, accidental voyeurism, consensual voyeurism, age difference, cum inflation kink, cock-dumb, aggressiveness/possessiveness, daddy kink, under-negotiated poly

~*~

Geralt

Geralt has known since he first laid eyes on his Child Surprise that he wants to make her his. In every sense of the word. But considering that they met under unfortunate and traumatizing circumstances, Geralt had to set his desires aside first because bringing Ciri somewhere safe took precedence.

Nonetheless, he can’t help but admire her ethereal beauty. Emerald eyes hardened by her recent experiences since fleeing Cintra soften every time she looks at Geralt when the witcher comforts her from a nightmare or cuddles her when it’s especially cold at night. Ash-blonde hair, which he had to cut shoulder-length to avoid being recognized, makes her look more mature than her thirteen years of age. Her built is slim, the top of her head barely reaching Geralt’s chest, and yet it doesn’t fail to send heat pooling low in his gut every time Ciri hugs him or huddles closer to him. For warmth or for comfort, it doesn’t matter, since he appreciates it all the same.

The walls that Geralt built around his heart for decades seemed to crumble to dust whenever he lays eyes on Ciri. Something primal, almost possessive, curls in him at the thought of his Child Surprise being so comfortable and pliant around him.

If Geralt hadn’t thought of himself as a monster before, he would do so now at the depraved thoughts and images that constantly permeate his mind about his ward. A part of him feels guilty, sure, but a bigger part of Geralt appreciates the lack of fear and disgust whenever he takes a subtle whiff of Ciri. There’s nothing but the smell of melancholy (which makes sense), safety, and affection. Affection for Geralt, which Ciri freely offers in abundance.

“How far along are we to Kaer Morhen?” Ciri asks him one night.

They’re camped in the middle of the woods, and the young teen is curled around Geralt to fight off the chill despite the roaring fire next to them and the furs Ciri is buried in.

Geralt hums and curls his arm tighter around Ciri’s frame, hand resting almost possessively on the girl’s hip. He doesn’t hide the small smirk that graces his lips when he feels Ciri shudder against a gust of wind and buries her angelic face on the crook of his neck.

“At least another month,” Geralt rumbles, his other hand rubbing soothingly along the thin arm wrapped around his torso. He chuckles and can’t help but kiss the top of his Child Surprise’s head when Ciri groans, his leather pants tightening a fraction when the girl breathes out against his neck. “Sorry, pup. We’re taking the longer route to keep Nilfgaard off our backs.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Ciri whispers. “Thank you for keeping me safe, Geralt.”

Affection blooms in Geralt’s chest, and he tightens his hold around her before pressing another kiss to her head. He seems to be doing that a lot lately. Being openly affectionate.

Hmm.

“Always, pup,” Geralt whispers back, chest rumbling in pleasure when he feels Ciri huddle closer. The weight of her growing tits pressed against his side sends another bolt of possessiveness to run through him.

He wants, so fucking much, but he knows he can’t.

~

They accidentally bump into Jaskier at one of the backwater villages they’re passing through.

After giving a heartfelt but stilted apology to what happened at the mountain almost a year ago, in which the bard milked every word Geralt uttered through gritted teeth like a cat that got the canary for a few seconds longer than necessary before accepting it with an over-the-top bow, Geralt introduces his friend to Ciri.

Ciri, who giggles behind her hand at Jaskier’s theatrical display, smiles and curtsies at the man dressed in bright colors.

“Lovely Ciri,” Jaskier says after he straightens himself. “What an absolute pleasure to meet you at last, my dear.”

“Likewise, Jaskier,” the young teen says. “Geralt has told me so much about you.”

Geralt arches a brow at her. He’s quite certain that he didn’t talk that much about Jaskier. Maybe once or twice. In passing.

Probably.

“Hm, has he now?” Jaskier directs a curious look at Geralt, who grunts in response. The bard grins at that. “Ah, I’ve definitely missed that.” Then he claps his hands. “So where are we off to next?”

“We’re going to Kaer Morhen,” Ciri pipes up before Geralt can answer.

He glances at his Child Surprise, only to feel dread settle in his stomach when he sees a sparkle in her eye as she continues to look up at their latest companion. That familiar sparkle has only ever been directed at Geralt before, and he’s not sure if he likes the way Ciri is staring at his friend.

When Geralt turns away to look at Jaskier, he doesn’t miss the calculating look in the bard’s eye as he meets Geralt’s gaze with an impish smile.

“Well, to the Witcher’s keep, it is!” Jaskier says with a grin, but not before winking at Ciri, who giggles again.

Geralt rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything, although deep down a part of him doesn’t look forward to sharing Ciri’s affections with him.

~

Like everything in his life, Geralt learns to deal with it.

Yennefer, Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert, and Jaskier. Hell, even Triss.

They all become a part of Ciri’s life, and Geralt is so proud of her for having such a huge capacity for love. He’s secretly thankful to have the others’ support. Should anything happen to him, at least Ciri has other people to rely on.

“You’ll always be my number one,” Ciri tells him on her sixteenth birthday.

Geralt gifted her a customized dagger, emerald and topaz stones decorating the hilt. Upon seeing it, Ciri thanked him profusely with a kiss on his cheek and a tight hug, which Geralt returned just as tightly, lifting her petite form from the ground.

“Love you, pup,” Geralt whispers in her ear.

He feels Ciri shiver, her arms tightening around his neck. His slow heartbeat stutters when he feels moist lips press on the curve of his jaw, Ciri’s breath warm in his ear as she lovingly utters--

“I love you, too.”

Fuck.

~

The years pass by, and Geralt’s affections for Ciri deepen the older his Child Surprise gets. He, Lambert, Eskel, and Vesemir train her to be a Witcher minus the mutations, while Yennefer and Triss teach and train her to control her Chaos. In-between that, Jaskier educates Ciri in literature and history, geography and maths, and even poetry and politics.

She grows from a sweet-faced, cautious girl to a beautiful, powerful, and courageous woman. Ciri also developed a mischievous streak, thanks to Lambert, but it only made Geralt’s heart soften further every time he sees his ward’s beatific smile or hears her peals of laughter.

He knows he’ll always want her, always lust and crave for Ciri the way a man who’s responsible for raising his daughter isn’t supposed to. But Geralt has long accepted that it can never be, so if all he can ever have of Ciri is this, then it should be enough.

But it can’t be helped the way his heart cracks every time he sees Ciri, now eighteen and ready to walk the Path, flirt back with Jaskier.

He witnesses Jaskier flirt, shameless in his affections as he bestows a kiss on Ciri’s knuckles. On Ciri’s cheek, her forehead. And one time, the curve of her jaw from when she hugged the bard in greeting after not seeing one another for nearly a year.

This is enough, he thinks, even as he stands to the side and witnesses the two people he loves most fall for each other.

It has to be, he thinks again, even if it’s the furthest thing from what he desires.

~

Jaskier

Jaskier has always known Geralt has feelings for Ciri. Well, not always, perhaps. But he’s suspected. Ever since that first time Geralt introduced them to each other, Jaskier saw that glint in Geralt’s expression when the witcher thought he wasn’t looking. In the years they’ve been friends, Jaskier has studied and memorized every grunt and expression, and the face Geralt made that time when he was looking at Ciri was one of longing and desire.

And Jaskier, well. He’s also not blind to Ciri’s less-than-innocent affections, bestowed upon both him and Geralt.

Oh, yes. As much as Geralt claims to understand humans, he sure doesn’t see just how much Ciri wants him back. Granted, the child is more subtle about it, and it’s only thanks to Jaskier’s very good observational skills that he managed to detect it at all. It only worsened (improved? Eh, technicalities) over the years, as they trained her to be a Witcher and sorceress. The hopeless romantic in Jaskier yearns for these two to get their heads out of their asses, but to no avail.

So it shouldn’t come as a surprise when Jaskier’s flirting pays off. Though Jaskier has known earlier that she’s always had a bit of a crush on him, when Ciri started flirting back with him it still took Jaskier by surprise, if only briefly.

Can’t blame her, really, he is quite a catch, after all.

Besides, there’s nothing wrong with it anyway, given the fact that Ciri is eighteen and a grown woman. And Melitele, how she’s grown. As much as he wants Geralt to have the happiness he so deserves, a part of Jaskier - the selfish part, that is - can’t help but cave in to his own desires.

Ciri has grown so beautifully, her ash-blonde hair framing her high cheekbones and striking emerald eyes. She’s grown in height as well, but Jaskier is still taller, the top of the young woman’s head reaching his chin, which is perfect because he only has to dip his head a fraction to kiss Ciri’s forehead. As for her body - gods, she’s curvy in all the right places, her breasts big and ripe and so tantalizing to look at, the globes of her ass plump and firm.

Surprisingly, nobody was against the blossoming romance between him and Ciri, and Jaskier thanks his lucky stars for that. He surmises that he’s probably the lesser evil, that it’s better that Ciri ends up with him - a humble bard and a trusted friend and companion of the White Wolf - than with some random person who may or may not have ulterior motives for bedding the princess. Some part of Jaskier thinks that he should feel guilty for pursuing his best friend’s daughter, but Geralt has remained tight-lipped about it, save for that time he nodded at Jaskier when Jaskier was whispering sweet nothings in Ciri’s ear after dinner.

While a part of him feels guilty, another part feels sorry. Sorry that Geralt is unable to make a move, to stake his claim or whatever. No, Ciri is not some animal or a property to be claimed - she’s a person meant to be loved and cherished and treated well. And Jaskier does. While a part of Jaskier feels sorry for Geralt, he also can’t help but be smug about it. He’s not going to shove it in his friend’s face, no, Jaskier is not that cruel. But he can’t help but feel pride at the fact that Ciri chose him.

And not only just choose Jaskier, but also lose her virginity to him.

~

“Jask,” Ciri moans, head thrown back in pleasure against the pillows and thick furs beneath her. “Fuck, just like that- fuck!”

Jaskier moans from where his mouth is sucking on her clit, hands grasping the backs of her thighs as he forces them further apart. They’re in Ciri’s room in Kaer Morhen, halfway through the last winter before his love sets out on the Path come spring.

He settles one leg over his shoulder before bringing his hand to Ciri’s pink folds, already slick with her juices after having come twice on Jaskier’s mouth, tongue, and fingers. Jaskier loves her like this, laid out naked on the bed, skin sweaty and flushed with arousal as he inserts two fingers inside her.

“Ah!” Ciri cries out, one hand moving to grab Jaskier’s head while the other remains by her side, tightly gripping the sheets. “Fuck, Jaskier, just fuck me already.”

“I am fucking you, my love,” Jaskier answers impishly, licking a stripe between her folds before swirling his tongue around her swollen clit.

Ciri makes a noise between a growl and a whine.

“D-don’t be an ass,” she gasps out when Jaskier’s fingers start to piston in and out of her, his tongue unrelenting on her clit. “I want your cock in me, Jask!”

Jaskier hums. “Just one more, Ciri. One more for me, my good girl.”

Ciri sobs as Jaskier inserts a third finger inside her, lips closing around the little nub as he starts to suckle on it greedily. They’ve been having sex for weeks now and Jaskier easily got used to the fact no matter how quiet they try to be in their lovemaking, the other Wolf Witchers will still hear them. So, really, there’s no need for them to hold back.

Which is why Jaskier loves it when he goes down on Ciri, the young woman so sensitive and receptive to his touches that she turns to putty every time Jaskier eats her out. He knows she loves it, loves how overstimulated she can get by Jaskire’s mouth and fingers before he eventually slides home into her. Her moans and whimpers, cries and demands for more and please and harder, Jaskier, never fails to send a thrill of pleasure and desire up his spine.

Jaskier lets go of her thigh as he lets his hand travel up his lover’s hips, abs, and then to her breasts. He pinches and rolls Ciri’s pebbled nipples, and she shouts and rolls her hips against Jaskier’s mouth and fingers, eagerly chasing after her third orgasm. It’s after a simultaneous pinch of her nipple and a suckle of her clit that Jaskier feels Ciri’s body shudder, inner walls clenching tight as she comes with a loud, broken moan of Jaskier’s name.

Pulling out his slick fingers, Jaskier sucks the digits into his mouth while he climbs up and on top of Ciri. Grinning blissfully, Ciri meets Jaskier’s lips with a pleased hum, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth. She pulls her long, muscular legs up to wrap around Jaskier, her feet resting on the small of his back as Jaskier guides his cock to Ciri’s wet cunt. They moan in unison, mouths still gliding against one another, when Jaskier finally enters her.

“Oh fuck, yes,” Ciri moans breathily. She wraps her arms around Jaskier’s broad shoulders, fingers curling on the back of his head in a light grasp. Jaskier moans as she bites his lower lip, and he snaps his hips roughly into her in response. “Jask. Fuck, baby, just like that.”

Jaskier shudders. He fucking loves it when Ciri uses that endearment on him, and he knows Ciri is aware of it, too. His arms move to wrap around Ciri’s body, their sweaty chests flushed together now. He adjusts his position, legs spreading a bit wider and planting his feet on the flush bed before deepening his thrusts, the wet squelch of skin slapping on skin drowned out by Jaskier’s grunts and groans and Ciri’s wanton moans.

They’re no longer kissing but their mouths are pressed together, open and panting. Jaskier angles his hips and thrusts in roughly, making Ciri gasp and grasp his hair tighter. Jaskier groans then traces the seam of Ciri’s lip with his tongue before diving into the hot, wet cavern of his lover, who reciprocates by tilting her head for a better angle. The kiss is hot and messy and filthy, and Jaskier’s chest blooms with love for the woman underneath him.

“I love you,” Jaskier murmurs against her mouth. He smiles back when he feels Ciri smile.

“I love you too,” she murmurs back.

“Are you okay, darling?” he whispers next as he starts to kiss a trail from Ciri’s mouth to her cheek and jaw. “What else do you need?”

Ciri cranes her head to give Jaskier more access to lavish kisses and bruises down the side of her neck, legs adjusting to wrap tighter around him.

“S’perfect,” she whispers back, sounding wrecked and fucked out, which was Jaskier’s plan for tonight. “You’re perfect, Jask. B-but please - ah! - please, baby, fuck me harder. I want to feel you when I train tomorrow.”

Fuck. “As you wish, darling.”

And Jaskier delivers, plowing hard and rough into Ciri until it’s probably bordering on painful for his beloved, but Ciri’s moans become higher pitched until she’s screaming her pleasure from the intense fucking Jaskier is giving her. He hisses when he feels blunt nails scrape down his back to grasp his asscheeks. But the brief pain only spurned Jaskier to look down at Ciri’s lust-filled eyes, sweat trailing down his forehead and lashes as his hips begin to falter when he felt his balls draw tighter, his orgasm drawing closer.

He unwraps one arm around Ciri, only to bring it to his lover’s engorged clit. It only takes a few strokes before Ciri comes, her walls clenching around his cock that it makes Jaskier see stars when he comes half a dozen thrusts later. And he comes so hard inside her he nearly passes out, but fortunately he was able to fall beside her rather than on top, their chests heaving as they come down from one of the most intense climaxes they shared.

“Fuck,” Jaskier gasps out. Ciri snorts in laughter beside her, and he can’t help but chuckle in return. “What are the chances they’re on the other side of the keep?”

“Zero.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier repeats, but it’s more amused than worried.

Ciri snorts again before turning to curl herself around Jaskier. Despite the sweat and come sticking to their heated skins, Jaskier doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around her, fingers trailing soothingly from waist to hip as they bask in the afterglow.

“I can’t wait ‘till we’re on the Path together,” Ciri murmurs from the crook on Jaskier’s neck. “Hunting monsters, earning coin, and getting fucked silly by my lover.”

Jaskier is too old to blush, but here he is, flushing pink at being referred to as Ciri’s lover. Because he is. He’s Ciri’s. And Ciri is his.

“I can’t wait for that, too,” Jaskier murmurs back, pressing his lips to her sweaty forehead. “Oh, the songs I will write and sing of you, my love.”

Ciri giggles, and Jaskier’s heart skips a beat at the familiar sound he’s grown to cherish so much.

“Me, too.” Then she adds thoughtfully, “Hope dad doesn’t complain much, though.”

Jaskier’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, didn’t dad tell you? He’s traveling with us for a few months. Didn’t want him to at first because I’m a grown woman, but he said he just wants to ease me into the Path now that I’m officially a Witcher-slash-Sorceress.”

Huh. Now that’s interesting, Jaskier thinks. Geralt never mentioned anything about traveling with them come spring, but then again it sort of makes sense. Firstly, Geralt is nothing but an overprotective dad, which Jaskier doesn’t blame him for in the least bit. And secondly, Jaskier isn’t an idiot. He’s seen the looks Geralt keeps giving him since he and Ciri consummated their relationship. The longing and want is a sight to behold on the witcher’s face, but jealousy is not a suitable look on him.

Jaskier isn’t sure what Ciri’s feelings are for Geralt, now that they’re romantically involved. Maybe it was just a passing crush, maybe it’s more. But knowing that Geralt’s affections for his beloved has not waned in the slightest over the years, Jaskier supposes that it won’t hurt if he carries out a few tests of his own. Just to see if the attraction still goes both ways.

And he knows the perfect thing to do.

~

Geralt

Spring finally arrives, and Geralt sets out on the Path once more. But this time, he leaves with Ciri and Jaskier, the former beside herself with excitement at the prospect of finally leaving the Witcher’s keep to find her place in the Continent.

Once they reach the bottom of the Blue Mountains, they set on the path and continue traveling for several days, camping in the forest and bathing in rivers, until they reach a village. After stabling their horses and paying the stableboy to tend to them, they first go to the inn to rent a room for the night.

“Make that two rooms, please,” Jaskier interjects at once after Geralt grunts at the innkeeper for a room with two beds. Geralt and Ciri exchange a look before Geralt turns suspicious eyes on the bard. “Single beds would do. And two baths as well, lovely madame.”

Ciri purses her lips to hide a smile but Geralt’s frown deepens at the wink Jaskier throws at his… at Ciri. He’s spent most of winter listening to them go at it like rabid animals, and Geralt is not in the fucking mood for whatever the bard is planning. It’s one thing to hear Ciri’s moans and whimpers in the safety of Kaer Morhen’s walls, and it’s another out here on the Path. Where other people can hear. And that’s something Geralt isn’t sure he’s comfortable with.

“Two rooms are too expensive,” Geralt grumbles to Jaskier as they take the stairs to the second floor. “And unnecessary.”

Jaskier waves him off with a smile and a pat on his shoulder.

“Come now, Geralt,” he says. “Ciri’s a grown woman. Surely you want to give her some privacy when she’s bathing.”

Jaskier gives him an arched look while Ciri blushes prettily beside him.

The image of Ciri - wet and naked and bathing herself, touching herself - is brought to the forefront of Geralt’s mind, and it takes a moment longer for him to think of an appropriate reply.

“Don’t be crass,” he grunts with a scowl, swallowing inaudibly past the dryness in his throat. “I’m just being practical.”

“It’s fine, dad,” Ciri soothes him with a hand on his arm. Geralt turns and his heart melts at his daughter’s soft smile. Then it broadens until she’s grinning cheekily at him. “But Jask is right. I’m a grown woman now.”

Geralt rolls his eyes but nods his head in understanding.

“Great! Let’s meet at the tavern for dinner, then? Our baths will be arriving soon.”

And just his luck, Geralt’s room is right next to theirs. Geralt just grunts in agreement before unlocking his door and stepping inside. He can hear their muffled voices next door, interspersed with giggling and wet smacks that can only be them kissing. Geralt tries his best to tamp down the jealousy that’s been simmering lately, taking deep breaths instead to keep his emotions under control.

He’s happy for Ciri, of course he is. And he’s happy for Jaskier, too. His daughter and best friend finding love in each other was shocking at first, yes, but Geralt has grown to accept it. But it doesn’t mean he’s not immune to fits of jealousy every now and then. Hearing Ciri’s sounds of pleasure has brought Geralt to completion a handful of times, yet it’s a torture of its own kind because he knows why Ciri is making such beautiful, shameless noises. The fact that it’s Jaskier who is giving her such pleasure somehow makes Geralt ache for her more, makes him crave to get a touch, a taste, of his little girl.

A thud breaks Geralt out of his musings, and he looks up in confusion from arranging his packs in the corner. Realizing it’s coming from next door, Geralt is about to yank his door open when he hears another thud, followed by moaning.

Geralt blinks and then exhales through his nose. Fuck.

“Jask, please,” he hears Ciri moan. Geralt’s leather pants become tighter at the sound of her breathy gasps. “Please, please, I want your cock.”

Fuck, Geralt repeats as he gulps and staggers to the end of the bed where he lands on gracelessly.

“Begging so prettily, my love,” he hears Jaskier praise, then it’s followed by the sound of sucking and slurping and-- shit, Geralt thinks. The bard’s mouth is likely buried on Ciri’s cunt. “You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

Ciri lets out a whimper that makes Geralt’s cock throb, the huge bulge on his leather pants bordering on painful, but Geralt grits his teeth.

“Yes yes, please, I’ll be your good girl.”

“Fuck,” Geralt whispers under his breath. He closes his eyes, imagines Ciri saying those words but to him instead. “Fuck.”

What follows is what Geralt can only describe as a quick and dirty fuck. He listens, enraptured, as Jaskier gets off Ciri twice, his daughter obviously holding back on her moans and whimpers. Geralt wets his dry lips when he hears the rustle of clothes being shed and thrown carelessly, the sounds of flesh pressing against flesh as two bodies land gracelessly on the straw mattress bed. Geralt grits his teeth when he hears Ciri beg for Jaskier’s cock, her voice breathy and dripping with lust and love and desire. And Jaskier eagerly replies back, just as breathily, that Ciri’s being such a good girl, his good girl, as he tells her to turn around and go on her hands and knees.

At this point, Geralt finally gives in and unlaces his pants. He only shoves it down past his thighs before he grasps his throbbing cock with a hiss. Precome dribbles down from the tip and Geralt smears it around his thick length, spitting on his hand to add more slick. He lets out a gasp when he focuses back on the two people fucking next door, the sounds of Jaskier rutting into Ciri mixed with their moans of pleasure.

“Is this what you wanted, princess?” he hears Jaskier growl.

“Yes!” Ciri moans, and Geralt can tell she’s moving her hips back to meet Jaskier’s thrusts. “You always fuck me so well.”

“Of course I do, darling. You’re such a good girl. You’re my good girl.”

“Yours,” Ciri affirms with a broken sob. “Always yours.”

Geralt tightens his grasp around his length, one hand stripping his cock while the other fondles his heavy sac. He’s only a room away, but it’s like he can hear Ciri’s voice in his ear, the squelch of her dripping cunt being plowed roughly by another man’s cock audible from where he’s perched. His nostrils flare, and Geralt swears he can smell her sweet and musky scent from here as well, and it’s that thought that sends him over the edge.

Geralt comes hard, thick ropes of hot cum painting his chest and throat. He opens his eyes in shock when he hears Ciri make a high keening sound, and he’s heard it dozens of times before that he knows she reached her climax as well. A minute later and Jaskier follows, hips stilling as he cums inside Ciri with a drawn out groan.

Everything is silent aside from their heavy breathing. Geralt’s heart is beating like a normal human’s against his ribs, and he blinks several times at the realization that he just masturbated to Ciri and Jaskier having sex. Next door.

Fuck, Geralt thinks.

“That was incredible,” he hears Ciri comment with a breathy giggle. Geralt’s heart twinges at the sound.

Jaskier returns it with a throaty chuckle of his own. Then it’s followed by a smacking of lips and tongue.

“Glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart,” Jaskier replies, and even Geralt can hear the smugness in his tone. “I’ve been wanting to do that all week.”

Ciri giggles again. “So that’s why you got a second room, hm?” There’s no reply, but Ciri’s laughter is bright as she says, “Brilliant idea there, love. But next time, maybe don’t get a room next to dad’s?”

Geralt stiffens, and he hears Jaskier hum before the bard replies, “Maybe. But where’s the fun in that, hm?”

What?

“You’re awful!” Ciri laughs while a light smack to Jaskier.

“I’m really not,” Jaskier disagrees smoothly, and Geralt is confused. “Now come on, darling, our bath’s arriving soon.”

As they get up to dress once more, Geralt remains seated on the bed, pants unlaced and soft, wet cock hanging out. And all he feels is confusion and longing.

~

It happens again at the next village they pass through.

Geralt has been soaking in the steaming bathtub for the better part of an hour and a half when he hears Jaskier and Ciri stumble into their room next door. He hears them clumsily shed their clothes in-between heated kisses and muttered praises, Ciri’s whimpers turning to moans at the telltale sound of Jaskier sucking bruises on her collarbones where it can be hidden by her shirt. Geralt’s cock swells until it’s stiff under the water, and he bites his lower lip to fight off the groan that rumbles in his throat when he guiltily takes himself in hand.

He can hear their heartbeats pick up, which is quickly followed by a loud thud of someone’s back hitting the wall. Geralt nearly jumps when he the sound reverberates on the wall next to him, and he realizes how small the distance is from his position in the tub to where Jaskier and Ciri are.

What follows next nearly short circuits Geralt’s brain. There’s the thud of someone going on their knees, then he hears Jaskier swear before he chokes off into a moan. Ciri’s moan joins his before it’s interrupted by the sound of suckling.

“F-fuck, Ciri,” Jaskier gasps.

Ciri hums, then she takes a deep breath, her voice muffled around a mouthful of -- of cock. Fuck, she’s on her knees and deepthroating Jaskier, whose head is thumping against the wall. The wall that’s the only godsdamn thing that serves as a barrier between Geralt and the coupling that’s happening next door. He continues stroking his cock - long, languid strokes as he closes his eyes and listens to Jaskier’s filthy praises of Ciri’s cocksucking skills, how she’s a good girl taking his cock so well and how Jaskier is going to reward her for being the best lover he’s ever had.

Geralt’s chest rumbles, jealousy and desire and longing warring within him as he listens to Jaskier talk while Ciri hums and mutters, “you taste so good, baby” before diving back in to swallow the precome with a slurp before taking Jaskier’s cock to the hilt. This goes on for several minutes until Geralt can smell how close Jaskier is, and then the bard forces Ciri off his cock. Ciri’s moan of protest is immediately cut off when Geralt discerns the shuffling sound as Jaskier pulling his daughter up from the floor, only to turn her around as Ciri’s back hits the wall.

“Jask-- oh.”

Geralt’s breath hitches when he hears Jaskier’s huff of breath, accompanied by him lifting Ciri off the ground.

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters, and he grips his cock at the base when he perceives Ciri’s legs wrap around Jaskier’s waist.

“Going to take you like this, love,” he catches Jaskier mutter, his voice muffled from where it’s likely pressed against Ciri’s long, pale neck. “Going to you make you mine like this.”

There’s a faint sound followed by Ciri whining.

“Jask, please, baby, please,” she pleads, and fuck if that doesn’t make Geralt’s cock pulse with want. His baby girl sounds fucking stunning like this.

Jaskier tuts and then murmurs, “No, darling. I want you to come on my cock. Just my cock. Be a good girl for me, please?”

Ciri lets out a sob but Geralt thinks she nods her head.

“Okay.”

“Lovely. So beautiful, Cirilla. So good for me. My love, my princess.”

Jaskier continues to whisper pretty names and erotic praises, and Geralt makes out the sound of his cock entering Ciri’s wet, tight cunt. The bard groans while Ciri lets out the filthiest moan Geralt has heard so far. It’s a high keening sound that breaks into a drawn out “fuck”.

Geralt holds his breath and his patience is rewarded as Jaskier proceeds to plow into Ciri. The thuds against the wall become a steady, crude beat as Ciri tightens her hold around Jaskier, whom Geralt guesses is clutching her plump cheeks while relentlessly driving his cock in and out her. Geralt finds himself matching Jaskier’s thrusts to his strokes, distantly impressed by the bard’s stamina.

“So fucking good, darling,” Jaskier says in-between grunts. “You love having me inside you, don’t you? Can’t get enough of my cock keeping you warm and full.”

“Yesyesyesyes fuck.” Ciri chokes off a moan when Jaskier’s next thrust comes rougher. “Just like that. Jask - ah! - fuck, I love your cock. Love how f-full I feel. L-love it especially w-when you - ah, ah - cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” Geralt grunts.

“Fuck,” Jaskier groans. Somehow, Geralt thinks he changes the angle because Ciri squeals and whimpers, the squelch of skin slapping on skin lewd and obscene to Geralt’s ears. “Ciri. Darling, sweetheart. Oh, my good girl. So good for me. I’m close. So fucking--”

“Yes yes yes,” Ciri moans wantonly. “Fucking cum in me, daddy!”

Holy shit.

Geralt does. He bites his knuckles hard to stop himself from moaning. He distantly hears Jaskier groan out loud, the bard going still as he spills his seed inside Ciri, who in turn comes with a cry.

“Daddy, huh?”

Geralt’s fucked out brain registers Jaskier’s voice, a teasing lilt in his tone. Ciri’s answer comes a beat later, embarrassment clear in her voice.

“Yeah, well,” she clears her throat before she tries again. “You keep calling me your good girl, so. Calling you ‘daddy’ sounds fair.”

There’s silence for a while. Geralt’s heart rate returns to normal when he hears Jaskier hum thoughtfully along with a light smack of lips.

“I prefer it when you call me ‘baby’, though. Are you sure it’s me you want to be calling that, hm?”

And Geralt’s heart picks up again.

“Jask…”

“Yes, love?”

“Come on. You know I…” she trails off again. Geralt takes a whiff, and his brows furrow when he detects the scent of embarrassment, lust, and… and guilt.

Guilt?

Before he can ponder further, Jaskier’s soothing voice filters through again.

“I know,” he says reassuringly. “And you know I’m fine with it. In fact, I encourage it.”

There’s doubt in Ciri’s voice when she replies, “I know, but what if… I don’t think--”

“There’s no harm in trying, right?” Jaskier interjects gently. “Besides, you know I’m perfectly okay with it.”

“Okay, but not right now. Soon.”

“Okay. Soon, then.”

“I love you, you know that, right?” Ciri says when they break apart for air. Geralt blinks, and his heart twinges at the clear affection in her voice.

He hears Jaskier kiss her deeply before pulling away again to say, “Yes I do, and I love you too. Nothing is going to change that, my love.”

They start kissing again, and this time it’s accompanied by the shuffling of their feet as they make their way towards the bed. As Geralt listens - eavesdrops - on such an intimate moment, he wonders to himself what Jaskier is encouraging his daughter in.

~

“Hope you enjoyed last night.”

Geralt stiffens in shock from where he’s saddling Roach, and he slowly turns his head in time to see Jaskier’s knowing smirk. He couldn’t breathe for a second, fear gripping his heart as he meets his friend’s steady gaze. Jaskier’s smirk softens into a look of understanding, then he pats Geralt’s shoulder.

“It’s quite alright, my friend,” he murmurs as he walks past Geralt. Fortunately, Ciri can’t see Geralt’s stoic face, or hear what Jaskier says next. “Our girl loves to put on a show for you.”

Then he walks away humming a familiar tune, and Geralt is left standing beside Roach, mouth agape in shock as his brain processes Jaskier’s words.

~

So that’s what they do. Every time they stop by a village and rent a room for the night, Geralt is treated to a “show”.

Ciri bouncing on Jaskier’s cock as Jaskier fondles her breasts and narrates to her all the filthiest things he wants to do to her when they return to Kaer Morhen for the winter.

Jaskier going down on Ciri and getting her off three times with his hands and mouth before flipping her over and plowing into her from behind until Ciri is sobbing and begging for Jaskier to ruin her, to fuck her so hard she won’t be able to ride her horse for the next week.

Ciri choking on Jaskier’s cock as Jaskier grasps her hair and fucks her throat before pulling out to paint her face and chest with his cum, Ciri moaning and suckling on the tip of Jaskier’s cock to milk him dry.

There’s that time they were slightly tipsy and Geralt fisted his cock to the sounds of Jaskier bending Ciri over the desk, lifting one of her legs to rest on top of it, and then taking her from behind. Ciri’s whimpers and pleas for more, harder, please, baby, was so lascivious that Geralt came twice before either of the two reached their own climax.

Geralt also notices that they have a thing for fucking against the wall. Ciri especially loves it when Jaskier lifts her up, the only thing supporting her the wall she’s pressed against and Jaskier’s strong arms. Jaskier drives his cock into her at a punishing pace every time, and that never fails to make Ciri squeal and cry out like a whore, and then come with that high keening moan that breaks halfway and makes Geralt’s cock throb that he comes so fucking hard.

And then there’s last night, when Geralt is in bed and stroking himself for what’s probably the hundredth time as he listens to Jaskier pound Ciri through the mattress, their moans salacious and loud to his enhanced hearing. The heavy thumping of the headboard hitting the wall can also be heard, and Geralt half wonders, not for the first time, just where Jaskier gets his stamina because not once has the bard failed to keep up with Ciri.

“Gods, just like that.”

“I love it when your cunt quivers around me, darling.”

“Harder, ah, harder, fuck!”

“I’m gonna cum again, love. Do you want it?”

A broken sob. “Yes, Jask, yes. Please. Want it so much. Want to be full of your cum.”

Jaskier only lasts for another minute until Geralt picks up his change in breathing before Jaskier stills and lets out a deep, satisfied groan. The image of his friend, face slack in pleasure as he spills his seed inside Geralt’s ward sends him to the edge, back arching and hips bucking as he strokes once, twice, thrice before angling his cock and painting his chest and abs with thick ropes of cum.

Fuck.

Geralt lets out a slow exhale, his body limp on the lumpy mattress as he regains his breath after listening to the coupling next door for nearly an hour. He doesn’t know what’s happening anymore. They’ve been doing this for three months, and Geralt should’ve parted ways with them a month and a half ago, but something compelled him to stay and continue… whatever this is.

Oh, who the fuck is he kidding? He knows the reason why he hasn’t left yet. He knows who, and though Geralt is still confused at what exactly they’re up to, he remembers Jaskier’s words to him.

“Our girl loves to put on a show for you.”

And Geralt has every intention to see it through the end.

~

The end, Geralt finds out a few weeks later, is far from what he expected. Given the fact that he’s been actively listening in and masturbating to his best friend and daughter’s coupling for the past several months, Geralt was expecting something explosive or… hell, even dramatic.

But that wasn’t the case.

Nonetheless, the sight still left Geralt breathless.

He’s just returned to the inn from being at the market, having spent a few hours haggling with the blacksmith for repairs on his armor, restocking his potion supplies, and looking for a new bridle for Roach. Geralt climbs up the stairs, and he’s almost at the end of the hall where their rooms are when he hears an odd noise coming from his room. Senses on high alert, Geralt unsheathes a dagger from his side and quickly pushes the door open, only to be greeted with an unlikely sight.

It’s Jaskier. And Ciri. Naked.

On Geralt’s bed.

Geralt distantly feels his hand let go of the dagger, his weapon clattering to the floor as his mouth hangs open in shock, amber eyes wide at the salacious view before him. Jaskier is leaning against the headboard, chestnut locks slightly damp and curling on the edges as he stares at Geralt with a pleased, knowing smirk as he trails his hands up and down Ciri’s curves.

Ciri. She’s leaning against Jaskier, her back pressed to the bard’s broad and hairy chest, and it’s this particular view that has Geralt clenching his jaw and gulping inaudibly.

Ciri, whose ash-blonde locks are put up in a messy bun, her neck and chest glistening with perspiration. Her legs, lean and long that go on for miles, are tangled with Jaskier on the sheets below, but at the sight of Geralt she shamelessly bends her knees and spreads them. Eyes wandering from her perky breasts to her abs, and then the curve of her hips, Geralt’s nostrils flare when he gets a whiff of her sweet, musky scent - a fragrance Geralt has become intimately familiar with in recent months. His mouth salivates when his eyes finally land on Ciri’s cunt. Her pubic hair is trimmed, exposing the pink folds moist with her juices and arousal, the little nub looking swollen and so fucking inviting.

Geralt’s leather pants are tighter now, his cock swelling at the sinful beauty in front of him.

“Ciri,” Geralt rasps out, eyes feasting on the image of one of Ciri’s hands going down to her cunt, fingers trailing between her southern lips as she starts to play with herself. “What…”

“We thought you might want to be an active participant for the encore,” Ciri purrs, emerald eyes hooded with lust as she bites her lower lip to fight off a moan when she flicks her thumb against her clit.

Geralt’s breath hitches and he looks from her to Jaskier, who’s still smirking at Geralt.

“You heard our girl, Geralt,” Jaskier agrees with a cock of his head. “Well? Are you going to shut the door or not? We’d really prefer not to have an audience for this.”

Geralt moves to close and lock the door behind him, but not once did he look away.

“Are you…” Crazy? Joking? Serious? Sure?

It’s Ciri who answers this time.

“Yes,” she says with a sigh as she buries her middle finger inside her stretched hole, emerald eyes dark with want as she meets Geralt’s hungry gaze. He growls low in his throat when Jaskier moves his hands to fondle Ciri’s breasts, fingers pinching and rolling her pink nipples as Ciri moans and starts to roll her hips against the two fingers now buried inside her. “Please, daddy.”

“Fuck,” Geralt grunts, and it’s like his body is moving of its own volition as he quickly divests himself of his boots and clothes in record time. Naked, he kneels at the foot of the bed, right between Ciri’s spread legs. He inhales their arousal - his, Ciri’s, and Jaskier’s - and something unfurls in Geralt. “What do you want, little girl?”

Ciri shudders, but her voice is strong when she says, “I want you to fuck me, daddy, and I want you to cum in me.”

“Such a good girl,” Jaskier praises, mouth sucking bruises on the side of her neck as he lightly squeezes her tits. “Telling daddy exactly what she wants.” Then he looks up and meets Geralt’s gaze, and Geralt feels something like understanding pass between them. Jaskier’s smile is lazy but seductive when he tells him, “Go on, then, love. Feast on our girl. She’s all yours.”

“Yours,” Ciri agrees with a moan.

Well, who is Geralt to say no or deny their desires, right?

So he leans forward and finally, he feasts. Once he’s sated, he goes for seconds. And thirds, and fourths.

And so on.

~*~

A/N: I didn’t know how to insert it in the fic, but Ciri drinks some birth control potion to prevent her from getting pregnant ‘cos she’s a cockslut and really loves it when Jask, and now Geralt, cums in her. ;) Also, I know I ended it in a cliffhanger, but I intended it like that. Thank you for reading!