Extension December 2020 Drabble #1

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! I wish all of you a wonderful new year. I wish you all a lot of strength and patience and FUN, and many many hours of feeling inspired to be naughty!

Every tier can read this one <3

---

Geralt minds. Oh, does he ever mind. At least that is what Jaskier surmises from the resumed straining and muffled shouts into the gag.

He glances up to the witcher, then down to the feast laid out before him. He’s bathed this man more times than either of them would like to admit.

“Easy now, big guy. I think-”

Geralt has narrowed his eyes at him. He seems not to care for what Jaskier his thinking because he suddenly surges forward, having him almost trip over himself as he jumps out of the way of the oncoming raging bull.

...Only that there is no oncoming raging bull because Geralt is still nice and fixed to the bed.

Jaskier straightens from his half-cower and looks at him again. Geralt’s triumphant expression melts a bit away when he sees Jaskier’s absolute intrigue with the whole situation.

“I need to find that girl later and have her teach me those knots. They are unbreakable,” he says softly, eying the ropes that are now digging deeply into Geralt’s limbs from his incessant squirming.

He then squats down in front of the witcher and takes in the feast, ignoring his continued efforts of intimidation.

“You know, you could be a little more forthcoming, Geralt. I have rescued you from certain castration right now. It’s just that I would get a little boon at least, right?”

He can’t take his eyes off the cock half-hard and impressive looking right in front of him.

“...or maybe a big boon,” he mutters, fingers curling around a space at the root of the shaft not slathered in a sticky substance – could be jam – to hold it still as he leans in and carefully picks the piece of liver from the tip before it can drop to the floor and be spoiled.

Jaskier closes his eyes, a low appreciative hum spilling from his throat.

“Oh God,” he groans. “It’s so good! You should have a taste… oh god… it is so tender… it melts on your tongue, Geralt…” He presses his tongue against the roof of his mouth just to feel it, another low groan vibrating from him.

He looks for another sliver of mandragora liver and sees it artfully draped across Geralt’s balls. Goddamn but they are some breeder nuts… A lot of morsels fit onto them. Jaskier leans in, holding the big bull cock out of the way to get better access to the rest of the witcher.

Who would have thought that Geralt was so tasty? Haha ha… yeah. Yeah, he’d always known. He’d bathed the man. Honestly, he’s got it coming to him. Tempting poor Jaskier with the rich bounty between his massive thighs and not letting him get a good grope in.

He tries to delicately pull the liver away with his teeth, but needs his other hand to gently palm the underside of Geralt’s heavy sac and lift it a little.

Jaskier closes his eyes, taking in the heat radiating against his face; the smell of sweat and body and all kinds of delicacies now that he’s got his nose all but tucked into the crease between the witcher’s dick and his balls.

He groans softly right against one of the swollen nuts when he suckles the mandragora liver into his mouth. It is almost sweet like candy before it dissipates on his tongue, dissolving into ooey-gooey deliciousness…

Geralt has gone very still. It doesn’t register to Jaskier until he has to pull back a little to take a breath, his head feeling all warm and fuzzy from the smell of Geralt’s sac. He looks up at him with heavy eyes. Geralt is staring down at him in turn, his sulfur yellow eyes have gone a bit less feral as he stares at him.

While Jaskier watches, there is a nudge against his cheek. It’s Geralt’s cock.

“Oh…” he mutters as he sees how big and hard it has become while he was down there. “Oh…” he repeats when he notices just how big it is. “How wonderful for you.”

He curls his hand around the shaft, squishing the thick berry sauce… or jam… or whatever it is between his palm and Geralt’s cock.

Jaskier looks down again and leans in, lapping at a half-melted little morsel that looks like chocolate and indeed also tastes like it. His tongue curves around the bottom swell of one of Geralt’s nuts, then drags up and across the melting candy, trying to lap it all up but only smearing it over the hot skin.

Well then… he’ll just have to lick again… and again… and again… get him nice and clean…

The room is hot around them. Sweltering even. Jaskier thinks it might be courtesy of Geralt – the witcher always seems larger than life, and right now he is exuding heat like a furnace. He has stopped struggling against his bonds, at least… though Jaskier wonders if that is only because he does not want to pull the knots any tighter than they already are.

“You know,” he says when he pulls away again to catch his breath. He looks up to make sure he has Geralt’s attention and almost recoils when he sees that, yes, he has it. His undivided, very angry (and lustful) attention. Geralt has his teeth bared, growling, his eyes almost glowing like Hell itself.

Oh… oh he can already think of a new song, just looking at- he should focus. It’s difficult to do so when he can’t make himself leave the vicinity of Geralt’s crotch, the thick scent making him feel faint.

“You know,” he repeats weak, his cheek rubbing against Geralt’s jam-sticky cock. “You should be ecstatic that you are getting a treatment such as this. Many a lord would have to pay good coin to not only be draped in these delicacies but also have me-”

“Jaskier.”

Geralt’s voice is… reasonable enough, he assumes, which is the only reason that he snaps his mouth shut with a soft click, staring up at the witcher slowly blinking. Geralt’s chest – roughly the size of that of a war horse’s, in Jaskier’s opinion – slowly rises and falls. His hands curl in his bonds, testing once more just how sturdy they are.

“Use your mouth for something productive, will you?”

Jaskier blinks at him slowly. Geralt’s face isn’t the most expressive one, especially with anything that doesn’t involve quiet, seething rage, so it takes him off guard when the witcher just lifts a brow at him.

“Oh… Oh? Oh- I mean… I could…?”

He pulls away, strands of sticky jam-or-maybe-honey stretching between his cheek and Geralt’s cock. His big, warm cock with those big, warm breeder balls that are still nowhere near clean…

Jaskier leans down, his hand slowly starting to pump the fat stud cock while he drools on Geralt’s sac. He tries to suck one of the nuts into his mouth and fails pathetically to get even close to managing it.

There are more morsels draped all over them, and he should probably pay attention to their delicate flavors, but it all gets overshadowed by the sheer musk Geralt is exuding.

The massive muscles surrounding Jaskier’s head are tensing every now and then whenever he touches a place that had to be especially sensitive. He’s stupidly thankful for the ropes trussing Geralt up so neatly. He does not think he would survive having those thighs clamp down around his head – and wouldn’t that be a damned shame to rob the world of his genius this early?

Geralt’s testicles are lying heavily in his palm. He keeps weighing them just to feel their immense heft. He’ll have to think about that the next time he sees him in his damnably tight pants. He’ll have to think about that for a month whenever he goes to sleep. He’ll have to think about that when he sits down and tries to compose a magnum opus. It seems inevitable. The next three pieces will be ballads about the hefty breeder balls Geralt of Rivia is somehow able to lug around without a peep of a complaint-

There’s a low sound from up above that is different enough to make Jaskier pull his face out of the fragrant, silky fold between Geralt’s testicles and his cock. It’s not a growl, for one. Quite the contrary-

Geralt’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes looking glazed. He tries his best to fuck up into Jaskier’s sloppily moving hand. Whenever his foreskin pulls back it reveals the glans as swollen and flushed, the piss slit glistening with wetness and impossibly inviting.

Jaskier swallows hard. He glances up into Geralt’s face again, meeting his stare head on.

“You are my muse,” he tells him breathlessly. He doesn’t know if Geralt even knows what that is. All he knows is that he gives him a nice tight hole to fuck into at the exact right moment. Geralt’s face contorts, his belly drawing so tight Jaskier could draw along the ridge of every well-defined muscle with his finger.

He can feel the fat sac in his hand draw tight and pulse with every mighty rope of cum shooting from the fat tip and splashing right over his face in hot, sensational streaks.

Jaskier’s mouth is open, trying to catch as much as possible of it on his tongue. Mandragora liver is a delicacy-

but there is something to be said about witcher cum.