Kink Prompt 8+19 🤗

Kink prompt 8+19 🤗

(edging + eating out, explicit, 1.2k, jaskier has a vagina, also on ao3)

“Geralt,” Jaskier gasps, squirming beneath him. “Yes, yes, yes, oh—no!” He arches, trying to return Geralt’s mouth to his dripping cunt. “You bastard,” he whines, his breath hitching.

“You love it.”

Jaskier’s laugh chokes into a moan as Geralt lets his warm breath ghost over Jaskier’s shiny, swollen clit.

“Fuck,” Jaskier hisses, his ankles locked around Geralt’s shoulders. “Fuck, fuck—”

“You’re so wet for me,” Geralt murmurs, a hint of wonder in his voice. “You taste so fucking good.” He touches his tongue to Jaskier’s clenching core, nudging the tip of it inside. Jaskier sobs, trying to bear down on him, but Geralt holds his hips steady. He hums in pleasure as Jaskier parts for him, as Jaskier’s slick floods his senses. It’s better than being drunk, the thick, sweet smell of him, the heady, perfect taste, the way it pools on his tongue.

Geralt opens his eyes and nearly falters in his focus.

Jaskier’s exquisite like this.

Teetering on the knife-edge of pleasure, his entire body taut as a lute-string. His face is a wreck of desperate desire, frustration, and vulnerability.

Geralt loves lavishing him in this way. It’s so much of what he likes most. Teasing Jaskier. Proving how well he knows Jaskier’s body. It’s about trust, really.

That, and licking his cunt until he cries.

Geralt tightens his grip on Jaskier’s hips and drags his tongue up Jaskier’s slit until he latches onto that pretty clit, sucking it gently as Jaskier writhes. He switches to hard, long laps up Jaskier’s labia, curling his tongue just barely inside on every upstroke. Jaskier’s making breathy little bitten-off sounds now, overwhelmed and endearingly musical.

“Please,” he begs, his chest heaving, his knuckles white on the sheets. “Please, please…”

Geralt hums. He settles on Jaskier’s clit again, swirling his tongue around it just so. It’s hot to the touch, quivering. He can sense Jaskier’s cunt clenching desperately on nothing, he can hear Jaskier’s pulse through his thighs. His chin is drenched in slick.

He pulls away.

Jaskier wails.

“I was so close,” he cries, kicking his heels against Geralt’s back.

“I know.” Geralt watches as Jaskier’s denied cunt throbs.

Jaskier makes a punched out noise and reaches down to touch himself, but Geralt seizes his wrist. He looks up at Jaskier, and even through his daze Jaskier must recognize the heat in his expression, because he lets out another moan and Geralt scents another gush of slick.

He drags his tongue through it before he pushes himself up beside Jaskier on the bed. He sets him onto his side, Jaskier’s back pressed to Geralt’s chest, his ass slotted in Geralt’s lap.

“The fuck,” Jaskier says, his voice breaking, and then Geralt’s fingertips are just beside his clit, teasing his labia with a featherlight touch. “Oh, you fucker,” he half-laughs, half-sobs, baring his throat to Geralt’s mouth.

“You know you’re going to come,” Geralt murmurs. “You’re just going to wait until I let you.”

Jaskier twitches. He tries to buck his hips into Geralt’s hand, but Geralt rides the motion, keeping that same too-gentle touch.

“Come on,” Jaskier whispers, wriggling. “Why don’t you fuck me? Don’t you want me to come on your cock, love? You’ll like it, I promise—”

Geralt laughs, burying his nose in Jaskier’s sweaty hair.

“Getting desperate, Jask.”

Jaskier whines, and Geralt decides to let it backfire on him.

“You’d like it. Wouldn’t you,” he mutters. He hikes Jaskier’s thighs apart, spreads his pussy with his fingers, baring his entrance. He lets his fingertip stroke it, circling. “If I pinned you down and spread you open with my cock, right here. Fucked you so good you’d feel it in the morning, filled you up until you overflow with it.” He dips his finger in, a frictionless glide, Jaskier’s body sucking him in. “I’d eat it out of you after too, you know I would, I always love the way you taste but you know I love it especially when you taste like both of us…”

Jaskier’s nearly out of his mind now, his breath coming ragged.

“That’s not fair,” he manages, biting his lip. His eyes are squeezed shut, nearly on the brink of tears with want.

“It’s not fair how much I love you,” Geralt whispers, because he can’t help it. He goes to suck another bruise into Jaskier’s throat, but Jaskier turns instead and captures Geralt’s mouth with his, kissing him with no finesse, just desperate want and love.

“Geralt,” Jaskier says, and Geralt would give anything to live in moments like this. Jaskier’s handsome face a wreck and so, so close to his. Jaskier says his name and it’s like Geralt’s hearing it for the first time, like it’s never fit him the way it does when Jaskier says it. Whoever it is that Jaskier’s naming with all that love and trust and want, that’s who Geralt wants to be.

He growls.

Shoves Jaskier onto his back again and knees his way down the bed. He takes Jaskier’s thighs into his hands and Jaskier’s trembling clit into his mouth and licks him.

Jaskier screams when he comes.

He shakes, his body jerking as he rides out wave after wave of pleasure.

Just as he starts to steady, Geralt presses two fingers into him, fucking them roughly into the spot he knows makes Jaskier see stars. This time Jaskier goes silent, his entire body going still, save for his cunt overflowing into Geralt’s mouth.

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier says again, when he can speak, “oh fuck, oh fuck—”

Geralt hums into him. He laps at Jaskier’s oversensitive clit very, very gently as he adds a third finger and curls it.

Jaskier’s hand reaches blindly for Geralt’s free one. When Geralt takes it, Jaskier squeezes hard. He’s quiet again now, save for the rough, needy sounds he makes as he grinds his hips in little circles, fucking himself down onto Geralt’s fingers and his tongue. He sobs when he comes again, his body clenching in decadent waves as Geralt pulls pleasure from him.

Geralt makes him come three more times before he sits up at last.

Jaskier’s a mess. His eyes have gone glassy, he’s pink up to his ears, his pretty cunt fucked sloppy.

Geralt sets about soothing him, just as carefully as he took him apart. A soft kiss on his panting mouth, a cool, damp cloth between his thighs, the blankets tucked up around them both even as Jaskier weakly protests about the wet spot. Geralt pours him water from the pitcher at the bedside and Jaskier drinks deeply before curling into Geralt’s arms.

He nudges his thigh between Geralt’s. Geralt’s still hard, he’s been hard all night.

“Shall I—?” Jaskier starts, but Geralt shakes his head. He cards his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, letting Jaskier settle into him.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he murmurs, planting a kiss to Jaskier’s temple. “I’m very satisfied.”

Geralt can actually feel Jaskier’s cheeks heat, where he’s pressed to Geralt’s chest.

“Oh.”

Geralt chuckles, tightening his embrace.

“Get some rest, Jask.”

“You get some rest,” Jaskier says sleepily. “You’re gonna need it…I’m gonna tease the fuck out of you tomorrow, just you wait…gonna ride you until you’re the one begging…”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s the punishment you think it is,” Geralt murmurs. Jaskier makes an offended sound, but then he’s yawning, nuzzling into Geralt’s arms.

Geralt sleeps, a good, deep sleep, and the following night, Jaskier makes good on his promise.