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Jaskier loved the burning stretch. It was addicting, something he craved and anticipated whenever he got into his workout clothes. He had always prided himself on his flexibility, able to contort himself in the most impossible positions that made his body ache. It had become one of his infamous characteristics.
He slotted himself between Geralt’s arms, turning on the tips of his toes until he could let his head roll back against the man’s broad chest
“Enjoying yourself?” Geralt’s voice rumbled in his chest, and he guided Jaskier’s leg even higher.
Jaskier lazily grinned, too wound up to even care at this point. They had done this countless times during their training. They started out serious, with a set schedule of moves they should’ve mastered by the end of their day, and more often than not ended with Jaskier panting Geralt’s name as the White Wolf whispered dirty nothings in his ear.
The hitch in Geralt’s throat didn’t go past Jaskier’s ear as he stretched his leg impossibly higher, and he could feel Geralt’s growing hardness grinding into his ass. Geralt’s eyes met his in the mirror, dark with lust, and Jaskier’s grin grew wider.
Geralt’s intense lust-filled look never failed to turn him on, make his cheeks and neck flush crimson. He always desired more of Geralt, an unexplainable and insatiable hunger that he had only ever experienced with him.
Jaskier bit his lip at the thought, craving, needing Geralt to manhandle him to the point he begged for his sweet release.
“I haven’t even touched you and you’re already hard,” Geralt said, eyeing the tent in Jaskier’s tights in the mirror with a raised brow. “You can’t deny yourself anything, can you?”
“I’ve been told you’re my impulse control,” Jaskier breathed, knowing full well it’d rile Geralt up if he continued to tease him like this. Geralt was possessive, and Jaskier knew exactly how to play that. “Unless you want someone else to touch me?”
Geralt’s eyes widened briefly before his face was set in its usual, composed scowl. Succes, Jaskier thought as the grip around his waist tightened.
“But I don’t think you’d like that, right, Geralt?”
Geralt didn’t answer, only buried his nose in the crook between Jaskier’s neck and shoulder. The gesture left Jaskier breathless, feeling wanted in the man’s hold. Geralt always managed to make his head spin with the simplest actions, cloud it with desire and hot passion to the point his eyes rolled back into his skull.
Whenever they moved together, something ignited between them. A feverish dance of always seeking out and desiring more from one another until they both lay panting, fighting for air on the cold studio floor.
This time was no different. Geralt lifted Jaskier up with ease before squatting down on one knee, maintaining Jaskier’s pose even while he pressed his palm against the sheer, pink fabric of his tights.
Jaskier shuddered, biting his lip to the point where he almost broke the skin as Geralt created the much-needed friction on his cock. A filthy moan moved past his lips when Geralt pressed his hand on the small of his back until both of Jaskier’s knees were on the wooden floor and his back was almost split in half.
“Just like that,” Geralt hummed, pulling down Jaskier’s tights until he could easily lap at his hole.
High pitched whimpers and moans spilled past Jaskier’s lips every time Geralt darted out his tongue to lap over his eager hole. “G-Geralt…” he panted, sounding absolutely wrecked as his partner wriggled his tongue past the ring of muscle and started thrusting it ever so slowly.
Rutting his hips, Jaskier fucked himself on Geralt’s tongue and when he made a move to touch his own cock, Geralt swatted his hand away and held a death grip around the base of his length.
Jaskier’s back arched impossibly further as Geralt bit into one of his cheeks before his knees started trembling when Geralt slid one finger in ever so slowly. Geralt was making him wait today, and Jaskier wasn’t exactly the type to patiently wait in silence.
“Geralt, come onnn,” he whined, turning over his shoulder to look at the White Wolf. A smirk had curled on Geralt’s lips and white strands of hair had fallen before his eyes, making him look absolutely feral. Jaskier still couldn’t believe Geralt actually wanted to fuck him, but based on the absolutely ravenous and possessive look in his golden eyes, he had no reason to doubt that he did.
“Patience,” Geralt said, adding a second finger, and when Jaskier pushed his hips back, he let go of the brunet’s cock to land a resounding smack on his ass.
Jaskier looked back over his shoulder, cheeks turning crimson as Geralt once again hit all of his kinks. With an angled thrust of Geralt’s fingers, Jaskier tensed and cried out as another spurt of precome messed up the wooden floor. His chest heaved, cock twitching as Geralt milked his prostate dry.
“Geralt, please ,” Jaskier whimpered, body trembling under the man’s touch. He yelped when another smack hit his cheek, leaving a burning sting in its wake before he whined in protest when Geralt removed his fingers from his hole. “ Geralt. ”
Within a matter of minutes, Geralt had moved back on top of him, pulling on his hair as he slid his lubed up cock between his cheeks. Geralt always made him beg to fill him up completely, and while Jaskier refused to at first, he quickly admitted his defeat and desperately tried to angle his hips so Geralt’s cock could slip inside as he begged.
“Geralt, please, please. I don’t know what else to say just, please,” Jaskier blabbered, moaning loudly when Geralt grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled his head back until his back was pressed against the man’s chest.
“Please, what?” Geralt moved his hand under his chin, easily wrapping his fingers around his neck as he torturously pressed his cockhead against Jaskier’s willing hole. “You know better than to move your hips back now.”
Oh, and did Jaskier know. He had tried pushing his ass back against Geralt’s cock in the past, and it had resulted in Geralt edging him for two hours straight. Jaskier’s cock twitched at the fond memory, but the desire to have Geralt fuck him into the floor was bigger than sadistic sex. Another time, Jaskier thought and he licked his lips. “Please, my Geralt.”
“Hmm?” Geralt buried his nose against his neck before leaving a sloppy suck under his ear. His hot breath puffed against Jaskier’s skin, and that simple action almost made Jaskier’s eyes roll back into his skull.
He tried to focus on his speech as much as he could, but it came out slurred and broken with Geralt’s hand wrapped around his neck, and he begged for Geralt to fuck him properly. “I want you, so bad. Please, Geralt, I want you to fuck-... fuck me… into the floor. I want my knees to burn.”
Jaskier kept on begging until all air left his lungs when Geralt’s slicked up cock slowly pressed inside, and he moaned loudly when his entire length was buried inside of him in one smooth motion. He felt so impossibly full, satiated, warm, and completely fucked out as Geralt slowly started moving inside of him.
The sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room as Geralt started snapping his hips with bruising force, letting the animal inside of him take over as Jaskier moved and moaned so willingly beneath him.
“You feel so good,” Jaskier moaned, nails clawing at Geralt’s shoulders until the man let go of his throat to press Jaskier’s face against the floor. A delirious smile curled on Jaskier’s lips, his knees burning just like he had wished.
He drooled in overstimulation as his prostate was abused to the point his entire body trembled, and tears started forming in the corners of his eyes, feeling too good for words. Heat coiled in the pit of his stomach when Geralt’s thrusts turned erratic, close to animalistic, and he had to fight every fiber in his being not to touch himself.
His neglected cock leaked freely onto the floor, leaving a puddle of clear pearly fluid behind, and a loud growl sounded throughout the room as Geralt increased his pace.
Geralt’s hand slid from its place on the brunet’s hip to wrap around his cock, stroking it in unison with his unforgiving pace. “You want me?”
Jaskier’s cock gushed with pre-come and he nodded fervently, face flushing impossibly darker at the thought of Geralt painting his inside white. “Yes, yes, yes.” He gasped when Geralt slammed his cock as deep as possible inside him, almost tumbling over him, and with a twist of Geralt’s cock, Jaskier was coming hard.
He threw his head back, screaming out Geralt’s name, cock twitching and spurting his come on his stomach and the floor as Geralt’s cock pulsed inside of him. A cheeky smile spread across Jaskier’s face when Geralt held his hips up as his body lost its final strength.
“You’re insufferable,” Geralt panted, voice hoarse, and pride swelled in Jaskier’s chest. He had been able to make Geralt feel good too.
“Hmm, I am,” he lazily said, reaching an arm behind him to run his hand through Geralt’s silver-white hair. Brown strands of hair were plastered across his forehead, but Geralt kissed it nonetheless before he slotted their lips together in post-orgasmic bliss.