February 2022 Drabble #2

Jaskier/Yennefer + Geralt – Yennefer is being mean and both Jaskier and Geralt love it in their own ways :)

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“Oh sh- oh shit, why are you so good at this? Why is she so good at this, Geralt?!” Jaskier’s voice takes on a high-pitched, stressed sounding note as he struggles to find any kind of purchase on the bed so Yennefer wouldn’t topple him right onto the dirty floorboards of the inn.

She laughs with a derisive little snort and glances to Geralt, sitting on a chair like a good boy and watching the whole thing. He might look stony to anybody else but she can see the color in his cheeks and the way his pupils have dilated ridiculously.

“I would say I am average,” she replies lazily, “though honestly… no, I’m not. I am fucking fantastic at what I do.” She reaches forward and grabs Jaskier’s hair in a mean fist, ripping his head back and pulling him on the fake cock she has strapped around her hips to ram it deeper into him and make him howl like a banshee. “But your previous stud has also been exceptionally bad at what he was doing. Hasn’t he, Geralt?”

Her dark, glittering eyes swerve from Jaskier’s beautifully curved back to Geralt who hasn’t moved a muscle and still looks humbled. Embarrassed, even. He shies away from her gaze and instead stares down at his own knees.

Yennefer clicks her tongue like she is disgusted, though her hips give an excited jerk forward, nearly toppling Jaskier once again.

“There he goes. Quiet when he doesn’t know what to say. How about you just admit it, Witcher? Got a big cock and nothing to go for it, isn’t it? You can’t fool me. I’ve had to endure it hands-on, after all.”

She rolls her eyes and blows a strand of hair out of her face.

Jaskier’s eyes are rolling as well – into his head from how good it feels to have his sweet spot pressed against over and over again by Yennefer’s long, ebony black cock that she had slipped out from beneath her dress as if it had been there all along.

“Oh God, oh God, oh… al--alright. I wouldn’t I wouldn’t go that far but… holy fuck, where did you learn this?” he sobs, completely losing track of his own thought process when Yennefer uses her sharp little nails to scratch four perfectly parallelled lines along his back, from the back of his neck to the small of his back. He lifts his ass into it like a cat.

“Maybe he could learn a thing or two from you,” he groans into the crook of his arm, sounding delirious.

Geralt shifts a little on his chair, leather creaking with the movement. He huffs like a horse but stays, as ever, quiet and mulish.