Try, Please Try For Me

Lambert: A Certified Bastard

"Holy fuck, darling, you're going to kill me," Jaskier moans, squirming and pressing his face further into the pillow.

There's a rumbling laugh from behind him, and he shudders as the sound vibrates across his sensitive skin.

He's face down on the mattress of Geralt's bed, ass in the air, while the witcher licks at him from behind. One of Geralt's hands is splayed on the bard's thigh, steadying him, while the other works him open with two fingers, accompanied by Geralt's tongue.

They'd awoken early that morning, and Jaskier had padded out the room in search of a warm bath. When he returned he'd been greeted by a pair of lust blown amber eyes and a witcher kissing him hard enough to make his knees give out. Geralt had then thrown him on the bed and started eating him out with all the enthusiasm of a starving man.

It started first with light kitten licks, which had quickly turned into Geralt swirling the tip of his tongue along Jaskier's entrance, then slowly licking him open until his legs trembled from the feeling. He's been teetering near the edge for a while now, and he can feel the dull ache of arousal that coils tight inside him, yet every time Jaskier finds himself about to tip over, Geralt's fingers and tongue retreat, then wait until the feeling dulls before returning.

It's torturous. But also so, so fucking good.

Jaskier whines as Geralt rolls the pads of his fingers across his prostate in a motion so slow it nearly makes him cry. He close, so fucking close, but just as he feels his orgasm approaching, Geralt stops the motion of his hand once again. He retracts his fingers, then spreads Jaskier's cheeks, giving one long swipe of his tongue across the bard's puckered rim.

"Fuck," Jaskier mutters, voice wavering, "you are going to kill me."

Geralt hums again, pulls back just far enough to speak. "I can stop if you want," he says casually.

"Don't you fucking dare."

Another laugh, then the fingers return, pressing deep inside him, scissoring a few times before pausing to hold him open.

Something dark twists in Jaskier's belly at the realization that Geralt is looking-- pulled back just enough to see how open Jaskier is for him, how his fingers disappear inside him with every thrust.

Jaskier whines, rocks his hips back, trying to push Geralt's fingers further, and the witcher makes a low growl, caressing his other hand up and down Jaskier's leg.

"Impatient little bird."

"Wouldn't be impatient if you'd stop teasing and get on with-- oh fuck--" Geralt's fingers press deeper and rub across his prostate mercilessly. "Geralt please, I'm gonna cum."

"Then cum," Geralt says, kissing along the ridge of his spine.

A third finger slides into him, and Jaskier moans at the added stretch, canting his hips back as Geralt continues fucking him. When Geralt's tongue returns, he loses it. All it takes is a few more pumps for Jaskier to shiver and spill onto the sheets with a loud groan.

He collapses on the mattress in a boneless heap and the witcher is on him immediately, hands caressing his ribs, kissing along his neck and shoulders.

"Good?" Geralt asks, softly.

"Good."

Geralt presses a kiss to the spot behind his ear. "Gods, you're so beautiful like this, Jask."

Jaskier rolls over so he can see the other man.

Geralt's eyes are still black with lust, face flushed, and chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His gaze trails down the witcher's form to where his still-hard length stands upright and dripping.