#this is so filthy i'm having the vapours and i wrote the damn thing

[valdomarx]

Jaskier loses a bet with Geralt and has to suck cock on command for a year as a consequence. Winter at Kaer Moran that year gets very interesting once Geralt realizes he never specified *whose* cock Jaskier has to suck.

It started as a joke, a way to pass the long hours on the road.

“You doubt me?” Jaskier’s chest puffs up in mock offence. “I’ll have you know, you’re talking to Oxenfurt Academy’s leading expert on primitive bestiary illustrations.”

“Oh yes, an expert in dusty old books, so very informative. You might have studied under the masters, Jaskier, but I know my monsters. And a griffin is classified as a hybrid, not a beast.”

Jasker’s eyes narrow. “Wanna bet?”

“Wouldn’t want to take your coin. We’re going to need it to pay for the inn if this hybrid griffin contract falls through.”

“Fine, no coin. But if I’m right, you have to let me ride Roach, whenever I ask, for a whole year.”

“Very well.” Geralt stifles a smile. “And if I’m right, you have to suck cock, whenever I ask, for a whole year.”

“I do that whenever you ask anyway, as you well know.” Jaskier waggles his eyebrows. “Doesn’t matter in any case, because I know I’m right.”

As it turns out, Jaskier is not right. Geralt has never been more pleased by the outcome of a wager.

.

Geralt doesn’t take advantage of it, not much at any rate. Certainly no more than Jaskier would be willing to do without their silly bet.

Mostly, he uses it as an excuse to get Jaskier to go down on him in increasingly public settings, the thrill of potentially getting caught being something they’re both into. (The reality of being caught in the act is rather less sexy, as they have learned to their cost.)

Geralt picks his moments, like when he leads Jaskier into a deserted corridor at a fancy banquet and pushes him to his knees, urging him to hurry before a wandering guard or noble comes along and sees what they’re up to. He crowds him up against a damp wall in a dark alleyway in Novigrad and unlaces his own breeches, taking Jaskier’s hand and wrapping it around his length while instructing him on exactly how he wants to be pleasured. After one of Jaskier’s concerts, Geralt pulls him behind the curtain that passes for a dressing room and fucks his throat raw, and Jaskier has to perform his encore with his voice still husky and rough.

On one particularly memorable occasion, Geralt persuades Jaskier to suck his cock under the table at a busy tavern, patrons and barmaids wandering by with no idea he is thrusting into Jaskier’s warm, wet mouth as they pass.

It’s all in good fun, that’s the point.

.

Things get really interesting when they head to Kaer Morhen for the winter. This is the first time Geralt has brought Jaskier with him, and he’s a little nervous about how that will go down with the other Wolves. But every one of them adores Jaskier, because how could they not? They love having someone listen attentively to their stories, and Jaskier’s music makes even the cold, old walls of the crumbling castle reverberate with life.

He walks into the hall one afternoon to find Lambert sat up on the table with one leg on either side of Jaskier, who is sat on the bench below and is glowing under his attention. Lambert is murmuring something indistinguishable in a low voice, and Jaskier is giggling and blushing the most charming shade of pink.

Geralt stops and observes them. He should feel protective maybe, or jealous, but he doesn’t. Jaskier is his, and he is Jaskier’s, and no amount of flirting with other people will change that. In fact, he rather likes the idea of watching Jaskier with someone else, and while Lambert wouldn’t have been his first choice he finds himself somewhat… intrigued by the prospect.

“Geralt!” Lambert looks up with a typical smirk plastered across his face. “Jaskier was just telling me about your arrangement. Hope you know how lucky you are to have this gorgeous mouth any time you want it.”

Jaskier flushes more, his fingers playing at Lambert’s knee. “I truly am a delight,” he sighs dramatically. “It’s nice to have someone recognise my many talents for once.”

“Hmm.” Geralt concedes. He is keenly aware of just how lucky he is to have Jaskier, mouth and all. So aware, in fact, that he’s considering sharing that good fortune with his brothers.

And when he thinks back to the bet they’d made all those months ago, he does remember the exact wording being, well, nonspecific about whose cock Jaskier had to suck whenever he was told to.

“Perhaps…,” Geralt begins, eyeing Lambert thoughtfully, “if it would please Jaskier, I might be willing to share.”

He looks to Jaskier, raising half an eyebrow in a wordless question. Jaskier ducks his head, smiling and biting at his lip, and oh yeah, Jaskier is into that, no doubt.

“You like that idea, sweetheart?” Lambert asks, lifting Jaskier’s face and stroking a thumb over his bottom lip. “You want to suck my cock while Geralt watches?”

In response, Jaskier sucks Lambert’s thumb into his mouth and, judging by the way Lambert’s breath hitches, does something sinful to it.

Geralt’s dick twitches in his trousers. He meets Jaskier’s eye and sees the sparkle of mischief there. This is something he could get into, apparently.

“Go on then,” he says, making an effort to keep his voice steady. “Suck Lambert off for me.”

“With pleasure,” Jaskier grins, sharp and eager, and reaches out to unlace Lambert’s trousers. Lambert slides a hand into his hair as he pulls out his cock, jerking him to hardness with confident strokes.

Geralt pulls over a chair and settles himself to fully appreciate the view.

“You think you can take it all, gorgeous?” Lambert asks, low and quiet, and Geralt snorts. If Jaskier can handle his cock, he’s going to have no problem with Lambert’s.

Lambert shoots him a glare. “Don’t remember asking your opinion, jackaaaaaaa -” Lambert’s voice cracks as Jaskier licks a stripe up the underside of his cock and suckles at the head, and Geralt can see from the way the corners of his mouth turn up that Jaskier is smirking. He truly is perfect.

Jaskier bends his head and takes Lambert fully into his mouth and it’s interesting, seeing it from the outside. Geralt has seen Jaskier’s lips around his own cock a hundred times, he knows the way his Adam’s apple works as he swallows and the way his nostrils flare when he’s taking it down his throat. But it’s different, watching from this angle, and there’s something thrilling about seeing Lambert enjoying him as well.

Lambert is noisy, and bossy, because of course he is. He uses his hand to guide Jaskier’s head, telling him what he wants and how Jaskier should take it. And for all that Jaskier isn’t exactly renowned for doing as he’s told, he does so love to give people what they want.

By the time Jaskier is rolling Lambert’s balls in his hand and is sucking him down in great, sloppy gulps, Geralt is hard as iron.

And by the time Lambert’s breath is heaving and his instructions are becoming less coherent and more like desperate moans, Geralt’s fingers are itching to touch, to grab and to hold and to squeeze. But that isn’t what they’re doing here, so he fists his hands in his trousers and watches, hungrily.

Jaskier pulls off, eyes gleaming, before swallowing Lambert’s cock down in one smooth slide, until his nose it pushing against Lambert’s stomach. Lambert swears, tightens his grip on Jaskier’s hair, and comes down his throat with a groan.

Geralt lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and Jaskier sits back, a satisfied smirk on his face as he wipes drool and cum off his chin.

Lambert rolls his shoulders and gives a smile more soft than Geralt is used to seeing on him. “Aren’t you a delight?” he says, taking Jaskier’s chin in his hand. Jaskier beams. “Are you going to let me take care of you now, sweet thing?” he asks, his hand running down Jaskier’s chest.

Geralt is on his feet at lightning speed. “Nope, not part of the deal,” he growls, striding over and tugging Jaskier away. If he doesn’t get Jaskier back to their room this instant, he might actually die.

Lambert shrugs one shoulder, lazy and contented. “Perhaps next time, then.”

Geralt narrows his eyes, both tempted by the prospect of doing this again and annoyed by Lambert’s presumption.

Though when Jaskier turns and presses himself up against Geralt, hard against his thigh, it wipes the look of annoyance from his face. “You’re the only one I want taking care of me,” Jaskier pants into his neck, and for half a second Geralt considers taking him right here on the table, audience be damned.

But that wouldn’t be in keeping with their bet. Although… perhaps next time.