December 2020 Drabble #1

“So uh… Geralt? He he I think it’s uh… it’s time to go, don’t you think?” Jaskier pushes the door open with his back, keeping his eyes on the slinking shadows outside. The inn had looked like a dream come true when they first arrived, but things had led to… things… and now he is reasonably sure… “You know, I am reasonably sure that these people uhm… eat… people? I think I saw- what the Hell is going on here?!”

He turned around just to watch a bare breasted lady suddenly pull back from between Geralt’s legs with what almost amounts to a feline hiss. The Witcher is bound on the bed in a most peculiar fashion, ripping on the ropes holding his arms apart while the sweet morsels piled on his crotch are in danger of sliding right off of him.

The lady has shoved pillows behind his back, making him sit upright. There’s a gag in his mouth, and he looks like he’s on his best way to chew through it in anger. When his gaze lands on Jaskier, his efforts to rip his arms and legs free from their bonds, double.

Jaskier stares back at him, then toward the lady who now looks just annoyed and disappointed as she wraps a thin shawl about her.

“Well that’s no fun at all.” She sighs deeply and starts to walk toward Jaskier who stiffens until she just passes him. “You can have him, then. I’m not in a mood to fight.”

She leaves them alone to stare at each other again. Geralt sags back against the pillows, a sigh of relieve audible when the immediate danger to his manhood has passed. Jaskier comes closer to get a better look at what they’re working with. He’s seen Geralt’s cock before – many, many times – but he’s never seen it or his balls draped in well… snacks.

“Looks delicious,” he mutters, noting how Geralt’s eyes snap open, pupils pulling into pinpricks as his gaze sharpens immediately. Jaskier steps a little closer. He nervously glances toward the door, but it is firmly shut and it doesn’t sound like they’re about to get ambushed by the cannibals. “I mean… Those are delicacies. I think that is Mandragora liver right there on your… uh…”

He glances up at him again, then back down. A few of the morsels have slipped away from their designated places due to Geralt winding himself like an eel, but all in all it still looks… very appetizing.

“You paid already, didn’t you? It would be a shame to let it go to waste.” He swings his lute off his back and carefully puts it on a desk next to them. Geralt’s chest is heaving, a constant low growl emanating from him… but his cock is doing its best at trying to dislodge that Mandragora liver right from the now swelling tip.

“Just a taste. You won’t mind, will you?”