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Snow is falling heavily outside the window. The snows have come early this year, and Eskel is sure that they’re all in for an intense winter. Once the snows start, it’s rare that they stop, which means that instead of months doing backbreaking labour and training in the courtyard, the School of the Wolf will be in for a calmer season than usual while they wait out the weather.
The keep can be cold and lonely during winters like these, except Eskel can hardly feel the chill with the roaring fireplace in Geralt’s room and the slim form of Jaskier draped over him.
Geralt brought him for the first time last year, and though there has been some definite flirting and longing looks between Eskel and Jaskier, things never went further than the parting kiss that the bard granted him before he and Geralt set off for spring.
It was mostly Eskel’s fault that things remained the way they did last winter. Jaskier is beautiful and bright, dressing in expensive fabrics and wearing sweet perfumes and oils. He’s soft despite walking the path alongside Geralt, but also one of the most peculiar men that Eskel has ever met. For one, he finds Eskel as he so boldly whispered into his ear one night after too many drinks, “so utterly attractive it’s almost painful.” Eskel, of course, was unconvinced, but the bard continued to be very insistent of his stance, and eventually, after getting to know Jaskier, Eskel couldn’t help but believe him.
“He really does like you,” Geralt had told him a few months into the season. “You should let him. I know that you like him too.”
It was true, Eskel did like Jaskier. The bard was fun and smart and well spoken, not to mention handsome, but Eskel knew something that was off limits when he saw it. He shook his head, brushing off Geralt’s statement. “I would never come between the two of you like that.”
Because worse still was the fact that Geralt and Jaskier were in love.
Geralt always insisted that they liked to keep things open. He and Jaskier spent time apart on the path, and both have the libido of rabbits. Neither wanted to give up the prospect of other lovers and both were fine with that; they always came back to each other in the end. Which is why even though Geralt was in a relationship with Jaskier, things between him and Eskel never changed. They’d been fucking since they were teenagers and the bard’s existance never stopped them from falling into each other’s arms the moment the snows set in.
But when Eskel actually met Jaskier… Well, things felt very real then. He couldn’t wedge himself between them like that. They deserved each other. They deserved to be happy. And so, Eskel refused any advances from the two of them.
“Well, I respect your decision,” Geralt had said. “But we would both love to have you, Eskel. Truly. So if you ever change your mind… you know where to find us.”
And what a lonely decision that was. Eskel spent the whole winter alone, despite the fact that both Geralt and Jaskier repeatedly invited him into their bed. That was, until they had all parted at the end of the season and Jaskier muttered, “fuck it,” before pulling Eskel into a deep kiss.
Eskel has pondered that kiss the entire year on the path. Finally upon arriving at Kaer Morhen this year, he decided to take a leaf out of Jaskier’s book. As soon as Geralt and Jaskier were through the door, Eskel grabbed Geralt and kissed him senseless, then did the same to the bard, despite Lambert’s exaggerated retching noises in the background.
Fuck it, right?
And so here they are; hauled up in Geralt’s room, with Eskel on the bed, Jaskier lying on top of him, kissing him silly, and Geralt watching with dark and hungry eyes from the armchair a few feet away.
Jaskier breaks the kiss and smiles up at Eskel with a look bright enough to light up the room. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, drawing a hand across Eskel’s bare chest and making the witcher shiver. “I mean, I presumed that all witchers were built like marble statues, but you, my dear, are truly exquisite.”
“Isn’t he, though?” Yellow eyes glint from the edge of the bed and Geralt grins wolfishly. “I could spend an entire day touching him.”
“Mmm, so could I.” Jaskier presses a kiss to Eskel’s neck, then another, trailing his way down to the witcher’s collarbone. His eyes flick up to meet Eskel’s as he bites down gently. A hand thumbs at Eskel’s nipple. “Beautiful.”
“Yeah, play with his chest, he likes that.”
“Oh?”
Eskel throws his head back and moans as Jaskier takes hold of his left pectoral and squeezes gently, massaging the muscle in his hand. These two are going to kill him before the night is over, and he’s going to love every second of it.
“You’re something to look at yourself, bard,” the scarred witcher gasps, voice wavering as Jaskier continues to knead at his chest, tweaking his nipples.
“Flirt,” Jaskier purrs, bending down to lick at one of the pink buds before taking it into his mouth and sucking hard.
Eskel’s breath catches in his throat, then punches from his lungs in a broken sound.
“Bet you could cum from this alone,” Jaskier murmurs, cupping Eskel’s pecs in either hand. “Do you think so, darling? Think you could spill just from me playing with your tits?”
At that, Eskel whines. “Y-yeah.” He’s never tried it before, but with Jaskier here, touching him and talking like he is, Eskel is very sure he could. He’s been embarrassingly hard since Jaskier started kissing him. At this point, he could probably cum from a passing breeze.
He hears Geralt chuckle darkly and turns his head to find the other witcher standing behind Jaskier, a hand trailing up and down the bard’s side. Jaskier sits back on his heels and Geralt climbs onto the bed, tucking against his back. He buries his face in the crook of the bard’s neck, gold eyes watching Eskel as he kisses the pale skin.
“Are you going to go easy on him, little lark?”
Jaskier hums, then squeezes Eskel’s nipple again, smoothing the other hand down the middle of his chest. “No,” he says casually. “No, I don’t think I will.”
Geralt grins, reaching around Jaskier and stroking Eskel’s hair. “You’re in for quite the night then, Wolf.”
Eskel shudders in anticipation.
“Alright, Eskel,” Jaskier says, mischievous expression slipping away in favour of one that is serious but kind. “I need you to listen because this is very important. Geralt and I would love to have you tonight, but first I want to make sure that this is something you want, not something you’re agreeing to.”
“Yes,” Eskel says without hesitation. “Yes, I want you both.”
Jaskier smiles softly. “I’m very glad to hear that, but just to set myself at ease, I would like to confirm a few things.” He pauses, waiting for Eskel’s response and the witcher nods. “Perfect. Now, I would very much like to fuck you if that’s something you’re interested in.”
Something in Eskel is reeling at the idea. It’s been way too long since he’s been properly fucked. Probably since two winters ago with Geralt. Most people don’t want that from him. “I would like that,” Eskel says.
“And how about Geralt? Would you like him to fuck you too? Do you think you could take us both in one night?”
Geralt is still petting his hair as Eskel meets his eyes. “Yes.”
“Excellent, darling. Then just one more thing.” A blush rises on the bard’s face and he leans forward a little, gently stroking the hair over Eskel’s chest. “I really like you, Eskel. You’re smart and funny and kind, and I find you very attractive. I don’t want just one night with you, I want you to be with us. You, me, and Geralt.”
“So do I,” Geralt says.
Suddenly Eskel finds himself pinned between the intensity of two very different pairs of eyes. Geralt and Jaskier both are practically dripping with lust-- Eskel can tell that from smell alone, but there’s also honesty. They’re both entirely serious.
He thinks for a moment, before he responds. “I want that too,” Eskel says. “I want you. Both of you.”
Jaskier is on him immediately, kissing with fervour. He breaks apart with a gentle bite to Eskel’s lips, only to be immediately replaced by Geralt, kissing with as much intensity. Jaskier giggles as Geralt pulls away and takes Eskel’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tilts Eskel’s head towards him.
“Oh, my darling Eskel. We are going to ruin you.”
And then Jaskier’s kissing him again, and a pair of lute-calloused hands are gently pushing Eskel’s legs apart and finally, finally taking hold of his cock. It takes Eskel completely by surprise when Jaskier jerks him once, hard and slow, and then he cums all over his stomach with a moan. He’s almost embarrassed when Jaskier pulls back with a small sound, but then Eskel sees the look in his eyes and something dark twists in his gut.
“Oh my,” Jaskier lilts, Swiping a finger tip through the mess he made, then bringing it up to his lips, pink tongue shooting out to taste it. “You’re going to be fun to play with, aren’t you?”
Over the bard’s shoulder, Geralt smirks. “He is a delight.”
“How many times can you cum in one night, Eskel?”
Eskel pants, wracking his lust-addled brain. “Five,” he says eventually.
Geralt hums fondly. “I remember that night.”
“Well,” Jaskier says with a wink. “That’s one.”
Melitele wept, they are going to ruin him.
They shuffle around on the bed and Geralt comes to lie next to Eskel, kissing at his neck while one hand lazily strokes him back to hardness. The smell of chamomile fills the room and Jaskier coos, kissing him a bit as well before an oiled finger presses against his entrance. That’s funny, last he checked, Geralt had been holding the oil. Eskel hasn’t even seen them pass it between each either.
“You’re gonna look so pretty coming apart on my fingers,” Jaskier murmurs, pressing the pad of his finger against Eskel’s rim. The bard teases his entrance for a bit, then slips it inside him.
Eskel moans as Jaskier locates his prostate in record timing, crooking his finger in a beckoning motion and rubbing against it before, thrusting a few times. “Yep,” Jaskier says, the pad of a second finger teasing beside the first. “Very pretty.”
Jaskier continues to thrust his fingers in and out of him, stretching as he goes. At Eskel’s side, Geralt keeps stroking his weeping prick while the other hand lift’s Eskel’s leg to provide the bard better access.
“He’s good at that, isn’t he?” The White Wolf whispers, mouth pressed against Eskel’s ear. “Some nights he makes me cum on just his fingers, over and over again.”
The sound that comes from Eskel’s mouth is supposed to be a yes, but it’s more of a garbled moan than anything because at that moment, Jaskier adds a third finger and then rubs all three in a maddengly slow circle over Eskel’s sweet spot.
Eskel cums with a soft cry again and Jaskier grins, leaning down to lap at the cooling spend on his stomach. “Two.”
Geralt sucks a mark on the side of Eskel’s throat, not bothering to look up as he drawls, “is he ready, Jask?”
The bard hums, pressing a kiss to the inside of Eskel’s raised thigh. “He is.” Jaskier’s fingers slip out of him. The feeling of being suddenly empty is borderline painful, a sound rises in the witcher’s throat, but Jaskier brushes Eskel’s hair out of his eyes with his clean hand, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I know, my dear, I know. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you wanting for long. We’re gonna take such good care of you, Geralt and I, all you need to do is just lie back and feel good, yeah?”
Eskel manages a shaking nod, wondering how it is he was reduced to this. People always expect him to take charge in the bedroom, it’s never this way. Even when he’s with Geralt, the other witcher will fuck him, but Eskel’s never had so much attention focused on him before. Now between Jaskier and Geralt, with their kind words and gentle touches, it’s almost too much.
The smell of chamomile grows in intensity as the bard slicks up his cock. He pauses however, when he lines it up with Eskel’s entrance, blue eyes meeting him. “Still okay?”
“Y-yeah. Still okay.”
“Good.” Jaskier soothes a hand back and forth on his abdomen in a gentle caress. “Just breathe, dearheart.”
The press of Jaskier inside him is so much more intense than he expected. The stretch isn’t too much-- Jaskier was very thorough in that regard, but Eskel is already sensitive from cumming twice and as the bard gently rocks into him he can feel everything.
Jaskier, whose prick has remained neglected thus far, seems to have similar feelings. He presses his forehead against Eskel’s as he bottoms out, breathes coming out in wavy pants as he tries not to spill from just being inside him.
“See how wrecked you’ve made him already?” Geralt nips at the shell of Eskel’s ear, then kisses the side of his face. “He hasn’t even started yet and he's close.”
“Fuck,” Jaskier groans in agreement. His hips rock forward carefully as if testing the waters. Eskel groans as well.
“How’s he feel, bard?”
“He’s…fuck, Geralt, he’s amazing.”
“Hmmm. I know.”
“Fucking clenching down on me like a vice.”
The White Wolf chuckles. “S’ cause he wants it. You should give it to him.”
Jaskier lets out a shaky breath, then pulls out slowly until just the head of his cock remains inside. He rolls his hips forward in a deep thrust. “Eskel,” he whines, repeating the motion, “Eskel, Eskel, fuck, you’re…”
Eskel can’t help but feel a swell of pride to know that he’s reduced the silver tongued man to this so quickly. A sly smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he wraps his other leg around Jaskier’s waist and pulls him closer, then clenches down on his prick. The choked moan that slips from the bard’s mouth is just as good as he thought it would be, and Eskel quirks an eyebrow, glancing up at him.
“Alright there, bard?” He clenches again and Jaskier whimpers.
“F-ffuuuck.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was promised.”
Jaskier chuckles, breath thin, but thrusts into Eskel again, harder this time. “You little minx. Should’ve known that all of you witchers would be like this.”
Eskel raises an eyebrow at Geralt and the other man gives him a look as if to say “it’s true.”
Jaskier rolls his hips again and picks up the pace until he’s established a rhythm. His thrusts change in angle the first few times, until he finds the spot he’s looking for and Eskel moans deep in his throat. Jaskier smirks. “There we are.” Then starts really fucking him.
It doesn’t take long for Eskel to start moaning. Jaskier fucks him with the percise skill of someone who has been doing it for as long as a witcher, (which is admitaddly, mildly concerning) his reputation clearly wasn’t lying. The bard kisses him between breaths. Geralt’s hands roam his body, tracing across his chest and stomach, occasionally stopping to pinch and tease at Eskel’s nipples like the regular menace he is. At some point he pulls Eskel’s face towards him and kisses the other witcher slow and filthy, a pleased rumble in his chest.
Eskel doesn’t know when he got hard again, but he does know the moment that Geralt takes him in hand once more and starts stroking him in time with Jaskier’s thrusts. He’s going to cum again, it’s only a matter of time, and Geralt knows it too. The White Wolf kisses him once more, then sets his gaze lazily on the beautiful human above him.
“You close, songbird?”
Jaskier’s fingers dig into Eskel’s hips as he fucks into him roughly. “Mmmm. Yeah.”
“You wanna cum inside him?”
The bard moans loudly at that thought, and Eskel finds himself just as affected. “Do it,” he breathes, “Please, I want you to.”
“Gods, Eskel.” Jaskier bows over him, pressing his face into the crook of the scarred witcher’s neck, kissing aimlessly at his skin. “M’ gonna-- gonna cum, fuck.”
Geralt strokes Eskel faster, kissing the other side of his neck. This time Eskel’s climax rips through him and he cums with a broken cry the same time Jaskier whines and bites down at his shoulder, spilling hot inside him. The moment the bard’s teeth leave Eskel’s skin, Geralt’s grabbing him by the hair and pulling him in for a desperate kiss right on top of the other witcher. The two of them kiss like a single entity, each knowing exactly what the other will do and how to respond. It’s beautiful, and Eskel hopes to see more of it in the coming weeks.
When they break apart, Geralt pulls Eskel in for a kiss too, taking the other man’s lower lip between his teeth before growling against his mouth, “That’s three. Ready for another one?”
Eskel only moans in response. Above him, Jaskier has regained composure and smiles down at him, caressing his neck and face before carefully pulling out. “You were perfect,” the bard coos, petting Eskel’s hair. “Thank you for giving me that, darling. Now, turn over, dear, that’s it,” he prods at Eskel’s hip and the witcher flips onto his hands and knees. Jaskier positions himself on his back under Eskel, so that he can see every quirk of the witcher’s face as Geralt lines up behind him.
Geralt runs a hand up Eskel’s spine, presses a kiss between his shoulder blades, then guides his cock into him with a groan. There’s no period of waiting for Eskel to grow accustomed to the stretch this time-- he’s plenty ready even though Geralt is sizable in length and thickness.
Jaskier takes Eskel’s face in his hands as Geralt starts to fuck him. He smooths his fingers over Eskel’s cheeks, completely undeterred by the scarred parts, then kisses each side. “You should see his face,” the bard murmurs, eyes locked with Eskel’s. “It’s a thing of beauty.” He’s talking about Geralt, Eskel knows, because he’s had the pleasure of gazing upon Geralt’s face as he’d bowed over him, or better yet split on Eskel’s cock, and the sight of the White Wolf in pleasure is truly one to behold.
Geralt is not as careful with Eskel as Jaskier was. They’ve had sex a hundred times over; he knows what Eskel can take. That being said, it’s far from a mindless fuck. His thrusts are hard and measured, but his touch is gentle, gliding over Eskel’s skin while he murmurs a slew of sweet and filthy things in his ear.
Pleasure burns in Eskel’s gut. He hangs his head, hair draped around his face, and lets it meet Jaskier’s, their mouths crashing together. The bard’s hand trails down his body and takes hold of his prick, the other tangles itself in Eskel’s hair.
“Look at you,” Jaskier gasps out between kisses. “Taking it so well. Does Geralt feel good inside you, sweet thing?” He chuckles at the small sound escaping Eskel’s lips. “I bet he does. How about next time you and I take him apart, hmmm? He’d look gorgeous taking that magnificent cock of yours, I’d love to see it.”
Eskel moans, picturing it. He wants that. Wants everything that Geralt and Jaskier will give him.
In the end, neither he nor Geralt last much longer. Geralt knows what he likes, the exact way to push Eskel’s buttons and get him all riled up and desperate. And the silver haired witcher is teetering on the edge after watching Jaskier and Eskel go at it.
Eskel cums first, burying his face into Jaskier with something between a moan and a sob. Jaskier holds him gently through it, kisses him and pets him, telling Eskel how good he is. Geralt finishes not long after, mouthing at the other witcher’s neck as he rides through the aftershocks.
Things start to feel rather hazy after that. He’s vaguely aware of Geralt pulling out of him, Jaskier rolling over, and then being onto the mess of pillows and blankets on his side, completely boneless. Geralt and Jaskier’s hands never leave him.
“Are you still with me, Eskel?”
Eskel blinks a few times to find Geralt staring back at him, also lying on his side so that they face each other. Jaskier is on Eskel’s other side, an arm draped over the witcher’s middle. He can’t see the bard’s face, but he can feel a light kiss on his shoulder.
“Eskel?” Geralt looks almost concerned now.
“I’m fine,” Eskel says hastily. His voice sounds rough and grating despite his words. “Great actually. It’s just a lot.”
“We can stop now,” Jaskier says from behind him, “if you just want to rest. You’ve done so good already.”
“No, I-- I would like to keep going. One more, right?”
“One more,” Geralt says, nodding.
He reaches between them and wraps his fingers around Eskel’s length as well as his own, pressing them against each other and stroking slowly. He’s very sensitive now, bordering on painful, but it’s still somehow so, so, good. Eskel lets himself get lost in Geralt. It doesn’t last long. The sounds that Eskel makes are nothing more than a few desperate whimpers as Geralt brings them both to completion.
Afterwards, the two of them lie panting, until Geralt gently rolls Eskel onto his back, then disappears, returning with a warm damp cloth. He wipes Eskel down with great care, then tends to Jaskier and himself before returning to the bed. It’s there that Eskel finds himself surrounded by warmth, two bodies curled into him on either side as he wonders just what he’s become a part of.
They don’t sleep right away that night. They talk, they hold each other, exchange tender kisses amongst the three of them. Sandwiched between two lovers, never before has Eskel felt so cared for, so cherished.
He could get used to this, he thinks.