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"Geralt," Yennefer says, mouth curving into a smile. "Long time no see."

"Yennefer," he says. Her smile widens.

“You’re looking well,” she says.

“Mm.” He looks down at her, his expression difficult to identify. Yennefer idly considers skimming his mind for a bit more information, but that takes out so much of the fun. “What are you doing here?”

“Just passing through,” Yennefer lies easily. There’s no point in the lie, really, but it’s easy. “And you?”

“I have a hunt,” he says, touching the hilt of one of his swords—the silver one, specifically. Well, that makes sense. “The count is troubled by a beast, they say.”

“Troubled by, or troubling?” Yennefer asks mildly, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Geralt says. Yennefer hums to herself, drumming her fingers lightly against her hip. With Geralt’s luck, it’s going to be the latter, and he’s not getting paid.

“Sounds dull,” she says frankly.

“Dull is better than interesting,” Geralt says, which she supposes is fair. “Interesting” usually seems to translate to “traumatic”, for Geralt. At least, in the stories he’s told her it does. It makes Jaskier’s songs even more ridiculous, knowing the truth behind them.

“Want some company?” Yennefer says.

“. . . alright,” Geralt says.

It’s a long, dull night, except for five very exciting minutes spent chasing vampires and getting blood everywhere. And Yennefer does mean everywhere.

“You need a bath,” she tells Geralt after.

“Hn,” he says.

They end up in the bath together, of course. Geralt is silent, but Yennefer doesn’t mind that either. He always tells her he says too much when she’s around. It’s funny, coming from a man who says as little as possible.

A bit flattering, too.

“Let me wash your hair for you,” Yennefer says. Geralt gives her a strange look, but dips his head in a nod. Yennefer picks out the sweetest-smelling shampoo of the bunch, then gets to work, dragging her nails lightly over his scalp. Geralt’s stiff shoulders slump.

He really is a beautiful man, she thinks absently, drawing her fingers through his long pale hair before carefully rinsing out the shampoo. The dark blood goes with it, leaving clean and silken whiteness behind. Yennefer inhales, and decides she definitely picked the right shampoo. The scent of it suits Geralt very well.

He turns towards her and wraps his arms around her, and she smiles.

“Eager tonight, are we?” she muses, drawing her fingers through his hair. He doesn’t say anything, just pushes his mouth up her throat. She tips her head back and he bites down gently behind her ear. She sighs, wrapping a bare leg around his waist, and he grunts into her wet skin. She draws her fingers through his hair again, then tugs sharply at it. She really does love his hair. He keeps it the perfect length for her to wind her fingers through and just pull.

She’s very fond of pulling his hair.

Geralt is eager tonight, and demonstrates it by setting her on the tiled edge of the tub, then mouthing back down her throat and over her breasts and stomach and putting his mouth between her legs. Like always, he seems more interested in making sure she comes than coming himself, which is very Geralt, Yennefer’s always thought, but isn’t above enjoying the benefits of.

He eats her out greedily, and she revels in the feel of it. As ever, he’s very good at it. Geralt is a dedicated lover, for certain. Probably that’s got something to do with his less than stellar self-image, unfortunately, but Yennefer’s not going to waste his talents just because of something like that.

She comes twice before he stops, gasping and shaking like so few lovers have made her do, and Geralt presses a kiss to her stomach as she catches her breath and strokes a hand up the curve of her thigh.

“Mmm, not bad,” she purrs languidly, trailing her fingers across the back of his shoulders. “Give me a minute and I’ll return the favor.”

“You don’t have to,” he says.

“Not feeling a bit neglected?” Yennefer replies with an amused laugh.

"No," Geralt says, kissing her stomach one last time before pulling her down into his lap. His big beautiful cock is half-soft, but Yennefer knows she could change that very efficiently, and decides she's going to. She adjusts her position in his lap, delighting in the way Geralt goes pliant and easy beneath her.

“Are you sure?" she asks, giving him a wicked grin.

“I really am fine,” he says, putting his hands on her hips. Yennefer grins wider and rubs her cunt along the length of his cock. He hisses.

“You’ve got such a gorgeous cock, Geralt,” she sighs contentedly. “I’d hate to see it wasted.”

“Hn,” he says. His dick is responding to the attention, hard and hot against her core, and she licks her lips predatorily and grinds against it greedily. Geralt hisses again, his head falling back. Yennefer leans forward and pushes a hand up his throat, and he swallows roughly. She feels powerful and beautiful and like eating him alive. Geralt isn't like the disappointments who've underestimated her in the past; he knows just what she could do to him, and he likes it.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” she says as she rolls her hips, mild and languid.

“Yes,” he says, voice rough, and Yennefer smiles widely “I just—like this? Can we do it like this?”

“Of course,” she says, and grinds down against him again. Geralt really doesn’t ask for much, when it comes to this kind of thing. Geralt bites his lip with a breathless grunt; she strokes his throat. He’s a lovely sight, as ever. She guides his cock inside of her and he lets her control the pace. She puts her hands on his hands and puts them where she wants them, and he grunts again. He lets her do whatever she wants.

Never let it be said that Yennefer of Vengerberg turned down such a thoughtful gift.

.

.

.

Yennefer walks into the local inn and finds Geralt sitting in the back, hidden in his cloak and covered in bandages. She’s not surprised; she could hear Jaskier’s familiar singing from the street. The tavern is raucous, full of happy people, and there’s a drink and a decent meal in front of Geralt, so he’s probably as close to happy as he gets himself. At least, without involving a bed, anyway.

Yennefer heads over to him, and he looks up at her from his seat.

“Aren’t you a mess,” she says, touching his bandaged forearm.

“Vampires,” he grunts.

“Again? Did you get paid?” she inquires, though since Jaskier’s here she’s going to assume that he did. The bard has one use, at least. Geralt nods shortly, proving her assumption right, and glances at the empty chair on the other side of his table. Yennefer decides to take the implied invitation and sits down across from him. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating, then?”

“Hn,” Geralt says. Yennefer smiles at him and steals a drink of his ale. He’s barely touched it, though she supposes it might be a refill. He’s barely touched his food either, though.

“Something troubling you?” she asks lightly.

“No,” he lies.

“Mmm,” she says, tapping her nails slowly against the table. Jaskier wraps up a song and starts talking, and the crowd cheers behind her. “Certainly loud in here.”

“The bard’s been playing for an hour,” Geralt says.

“And you’re still here?” Yennefer tilts her head. There’s a perfectly good whorehouse down the street, she knows, and also perfectly good beds upstairs. Geralt’s not really the type to stick around for a party when he has alternatives, at least not in her experience of him.

“I’m waiting to see how he’s going to get himself in trouble,” Geralt says dubiously, and Yennefer laughs.

"Oh, really?" she says in amusement. "Won't be waiting long, then."

As it turns out, by some miracle Jaskier makes it through the evening without anyone either trying to kill him or pelt him with rotten fruit, and Yennefer’s mildly impressed. Usually he causes some sort of fuss.

Jaskier finishes up with an extravagant bow, then escapes the crowd and heads over to them, making a face at her as he approaches.

"Oh, goodie," he says. "So glad to see we've got company."

"Nice to see you too, bard," Yennefer replies with a smirk.

“I don’t return the sentiment whatsoever,” Jaskier informs her. She laughs.

"You done?" Geralt says.

“Yes,” Jaskier says, eyeing Yennefer, who just keeps smirking at him. He’s so easy to rile up. “I’ll assume I need to get a seperate room now.”

“You’re sharing a room?” Yennefer says, eyebrows raising. Hm. There’s a surprise. She’d have expected Geralt to want privacy and Jaskier to end up staying up all night and up some farmgirl’s skirt.

“It’s cheaper,” Jaskier says. “Or it’s a habit. I don’t know. What do you care?”

“I’m just surprised,” Yennefer says. “I thought you two weren’t having sex.”

Geralt chokes on his ale. Jaskier eyes her. Yennefer puts on a placid smile. Really, so easy.

“You think you’d know if we were?” Jaskier says.

“Well, I’d at least expect you to be less jealous of me,” Yennefer says, resting her chin in her hand.

“Jealous?!” Jaskier sputters. “Who’s jealous?!”

“Do I really have to repeat myself?” Yennefer says.

“Yen,” Geralt says, looking pained.

“Just saying,” Yennefer says with a shrug. It’s always been fairly obvious to her that Geralt and Jaskier want to fuck each other, though she’s never seen the point in caring about it. It’s between them, after all.

She really can’t help the occasional needling, though.

“I’m not jealous!” Jaskier says indignantly. Yennefer gives him a pitying look. “Don’t look at me like that, witch, I mean it!”

“It’s fine, Jaskier,” Geralt says wearily, rubbing at his temple. “You don’t need to get another room.”

“Oh, is he invited?” Yennefer asks with the illusion of polite surprise. Geralt . . . blinks, very slowly, and gives her an incredulous look. Jaskier manages to trip without actually moving anywhere and grabs the edge of the table, face bright red.

“Not funny!” he says.

“Wasn’t joking,” Yennefer says, idly inspecting her nails. She really would’ve thought they would’ve at least shared a woman or two by now, given how long they’ve known each other. She’s certainly known them long enough to be comfortable with the idea herself. Not that she usually has to know someone very long for that, admittedly. “Why not save everyone some trouble and just go upstairs together, mm?”

“That absolutely sounds like trouble,” Jaskier says. Geralt passes a hand over his face, looking pained again.

“Yen,” he says.

“Mm?” she says.

“Trouble!” Jaskier says.

“Come on already,” Yennefer says, getting to her feet and catching Jaskier’s hand to tug him along. Jaskier sputters again, but follows her tugging, and Yennefer smirks to herself.

So easy.

Geralt stares after them for a moment, eyes glittering and sharp, and then stands up too and follows without Yennefer having to do a damn thing about it.

“Where’s our room?” she asks Jaskier.

“Second floor, third door on the right,” he says, voice slightly strangled. “Look, witch—”

“Yes, bard?” she says, smirking back at him.

“Argh,” Jaskier says, and glances back at Geralt awkwardly before following her up the stairs. Geralt moves like a shadow in their wake, hood drawn up and cloak covering him completely, and Yennefer hums contentedly to herself. Geralt usually wears her out, to be honest, so she’s looking forward to seeing just what keeps getting Jaskier in trouble on top of that. It sounds like an enjoyable way to spend an evening, honestly.

She and Jaskier enter the room together, still hand-in-hand. Geralt lingers in the doorway, filling it up, and Yennefer raises an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, did you want to watch for a bit?” she asks lightly, then turns into Jaskier and reaches up to tug him down into a kiss. Jaskier makes a startled noise, but kisses back.

Geralt lets the door fall shut behind him, and Yennefer smiles.

She keeps kissing Jaskier hungrily and Geralt watches them from the other side of the room. Jaskier kisses her more deeply, putting his hands on her hips. She cups his face in hers. Geralt keeps watching them.

Yennefer always has liked being watched.

“Down to business, bard,” she says briskly, then shoves him towards the bed. Jaskier goes with it, because he is who he is as a person. Yennefer stalks after him with a predatory grin and he looks briefly alarmed.

“I can’t help but feel I’m making this much too easy for you,” he says, shrugging out of his doublet. Yennefer laughs and picks it up to toss aside carelessly.

“You might be the easiest man I’ve met in decades, in fact,” she says, amused.

“Well you don’t have to say it,” Jaskier huffs. Yennefer laughs again and takes off her heavy cape, then turns her back to him in silent demand. He starts unfastening the back of her dress.

He’s definitely easy.

Yennefer steals a glance at Geralt and finds the other still standing just inside the door in his cloak and all his armor, watching them intently. There’s a chair, but he doesn’t seem interested in it. He also doesn’t seem interested in getting any closer, at least for the moment, so . . .

Jaskier unfastens the last few hooks in Yennefer’s dress and presses a kiss against her spine. She hums approvingly, letting the dress puddle to the floor at her feet.

“Well alright then,” Jaskier says conversationally. Yennefer smirks back over her shoulder at him, then takes off her underwear and sits in his lap, settling in comfortably. Jaskier puts his hands on her hips, and she grabs both of them and tugs one to her chest and the other between her thighs.

“Get to work, Jaskier,” she says.

Jaskier does, blissfully. He pushes his mouth into her neck and cups one of her breasts as he strokes a finger between her folds. Yennefer sighs, tipping her head back against his shoulder and spreading her thighs to give him more room to work in. It’s perhaps not the most practical position she’s ever had sex in, but it’s certainly going to give Geralt a good show.

And Geralt, indeed, keeps watching them intently. He doesn’t look like he’s enjoying himself, exactly, but he’s clearly very aware of what they’re doing.

Yennefer makes an appreciative noise as Jaskier pinches her nipple and rolls it between his fingers, tilting her head to let him mouth up her neck a little better and bite down behind her ear. He strokes her folds again, and her eyelashes flutter.

“At least you earned some of your reputation,” she muses, squeezing his wrists once before letting go of them to reach back and wrap her arms around his neck. “I thought I might have to do all the work.”

“Of course you did,” Jaskier grumbles, nuzzling her throat as he finds her clit and rubs a circle around it. She purrs, arching against him. Geralt keeps watching. Yennefer debates if he wants ignored or if they should be talking to him. She isn’t quite sure what to expect. She’s had sex with him before, obviously, but this is a little bit different.

For the moment, she decides to keep her attention on Jaskier, figuring it’s not like they can’t switch tactics if Geralt turns out to be bothered by it. She purrs again and presses her lips against Jaskier’s jaw, and he slips a finger inside her cunt and curls it. She shivers and lets out a contented sigh.

“There we go,” she says approvingly. Jaskier’s cock twitches against her and he looks vaguely appalled that his dick is apparently into that.

Yennefer laughs and rubs back into his lap entirely unsubtly, just to make sure he knows she definitely didn’t miss that. He makes a face at her and she laughs again, patting his cheek.

“Mm, come on,” she says. He slips another finger into her and fucks her steadily with them, and she arches into him again. “Good boy.”

Jaskier bites her shoulder. She smirks at him.

He tugs lightly at her nipple and rubs the pad of his thumb against her clit, and she inhales sharply—sweetly—and he bites her again. She’s fairly certain he’s going to be leaving marks, which is a nice thought.

It doesn’t take much longer before she’s coming with a dreamy sigh, dropping her head back on a hard shudder and tightening her hands on his body and her cunt around his fingers. Jaskier pushes his mouth behind her ear again.

Very good boy,” she murmurs. If she’d known he was so obedient in bed, well . . .

“Would you rather I fuck you or eat you out next?” Jaskier asks, as a man with all the right priorities.

“Ah, there’s a choice,” Yennefer says musingly, spreading her thighs a little further apart. She glances at Geralt again, but can barely see the other’s eyes inside the hood of his cloak. “Why don’t we let Geralt pick? Geralt?”

“Hn,” Geralt says.

“Very helpful, Geralt,” Jaskier says dryly. “Happy to hear suggestions, if you have any.”

“. . . hn.”

“Maybe I’ll just fuck you, bard,” Yennefer says slyly.

“I don’t want to know how literally you mean that,” Jaskier says. She chuckles. Geralt steps in close, looming over them, and Yennefer smiles widely.

“Are you even interested in men?” Geralt asks, his eyes flicking over Jaskier.

“Not particularly, but I’m interested in you,” Jaskier answers.

Geralt’s expression turns strange for a moment, then goes blank. He puts a heavy hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and leans down, and Jaskier leans up in turn, and they kiss. Yennefer makes a mildly interested noise, petting the side of Jaskier’s face. She’s never seen Geralt kiss someone else before, and it’s a lovely sight.

“Get in the bed already,” she says, reaching out to unfasten Geralt’s cloak. Geralt breaks off the kiss and steps back before she can, and Jaskier bites back a disappointed sound.

“It’s . . . fine,” Geralt says. Yennefer arches an eyebrow.

“Does that mean you only want to watch?” she asks. “Wouldn’t have taken you for the voyeuristic type, to be honest.”

“Hn,” Geralt says.

“If it was remotely unclear, I also think you should get in the bed already,” Jaskier says. Geralt . . . hesitates.

“Geralt,” Yennefer says, getting to her feet and tilting her head. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Geralt says.

“Something seems wrong,” Jaskier says.

“It’s not.”

“Really, because—”

“Shut up, Jaskier,” Geralt says, and steps in and kisses him again. Jaskier makes an insulted noise, but kisses back.

“That’s a bit more like it,” Yennefer says in satisfaction. She reaches out to stroke the back of Geralt’s neck, Jaskier deepens the kiss, and Geralt . . .

Geralt stays, which is really all she could ask for.

.

.

.

It takes a little more effort, but Yennefer manages to get Geralt out of his clothes and into the bed, and Jaskier is smart enough to undress himself at the same time, so apparently he’s got some brains in that head after all. Geralt still seems a little hesitant, but not upset or unwilling, so Yennefer doesn’t worry about it. If he’s awkward about getting in bed with Jaskier, he’ll get over it.

She still can’t believe it’s taken them this long to get in bed together, frankly.

“There we go,” she says, tugging Geralt into a kiss. He puts a hand on the small of her back, and she makes a pleased noise to encourage him. Jaskier watches them, covering Geralt’s hand with his own. Yennefer makes another pleased noise. Good.

She leans back against the bed, pulling Geralt down with her, and he pushes his mouth into her neck and strokes his hands up her thighs. He mouths down to her collarbone, cupping one of her breasts, and she wraps her legs around him and digs her heels into his back. He probably won’t fuck her this soon, but maybe, since Jaskier’s already gotten her off. But no, never mind, he’s clearly working his way down her body to eat her out.

Well, she’s not going to complain.

“A man on a mission, I see,” Jaskier says, leaning against the headboard beside Yennefer and watching Geralt kiss his way down her stomach.

“Shhh, let him do as he likes,” Yennefer says, waving him off. Jaskier snorts. Geralt glances up at them, but doesn’t say anything. He strokes his thumb over her folds, though, which is communication enough for her. “Ohhh, yes.”

“Greedy,” Jaskier says. Yennefer would say something biting, but that’s when Geralt slips a finger inside her and licks her clit and that’s a bit distracting. Instead she just waves him off vaguely again, tilting her head back against the mattress as she savors the feeling of Geralt’s mouth. Yes, she’s definitely greedy for this. Geralt’s a gift in bed.

Geralt eats her out hungrily, eagerly, and Yennefer rocks her hips up into his mouth and gasps roughly for breath. Jaskier leans over and kisses her, which is further proof that he actually does have some brains. He cups her breasts and rubs his thumbs across her nipples and bites at her mouth, and she bites back sharply and wraps one arm around his neck and puts her other hand in Geralt’s hair. Geralt fucks her with his tongue and his fingers and she pants into Jaskier’s mouth.

She comes easily and overwhelmingly, body clenching and fingers digging into Jaskier’s back and Geralt’s hair, and she curses breathlessly at the sensation, at the rush, at the aftershocks Geralt drags out of her. It’s enough to make her dizzy.

“That never does get old,” she muses.

Geralt glances at Jaskier, who’s already looking down at him, and neither of them moves. Yennefer rolls her eyes. Men.

“Either you should fuck each other or one of you should fuck me,” she suggests languidly, though it’s not really a suggestion so much as a demand. They don’t have all night, after all.

Well, technically they do, but she wants to spend it actually doing things. No reason to waste a chance like this.

“Alright,” Jaskier says slowly. “Well . . .”

“Well?” Yennefer raises her eyebrows.

“Oh, come here,” Jaskier says, and pulls Geralt towards him. Geralt follows the guidance and Jaskier wraps his arms around his neck and kisses him. Geralt kisses back slowly, putting a hand on his hip. He’s almost . . . awkward, Yennefer would say, which is a little odd.

Jaskier makes an encouraging noise, tightening his grip on Geralt, and Geralt keeps kissing him. Yennefer watches them with interest. Jaskier presses himself up into Geralt, and Geralt leans into him a little more heavily. They don’t touch particularly intimately, but they do keep kissing. Yennefer cannot imagine either of them being this hesitant with a woman, but refrains from comment.

Jaskier deepens the kiss; drags his nails across Geralt’s back. Geralt grunts. Yennefer clearly should’ve gotten them drunk or something.

“I’m not actually sure I want fucked,” Jaskier says warily. “Just for the record and all. I mean, I’m not necessarily against it, just I’ve never—”

“You can fuck me,” Geralt interrupts.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, visibly glazing over for a moment before blinking rapidly. “Yes! Okay! That’s fine!”

At least they’re making progress, Yennefer thinks wryly. They shift on the bed, ‘til Geralt’s on his back and Jaskier’s leaning over him, and Yennefer decides to be thoughtful and gets up to go over to their neglected bags. If anyone’s going to have oil, it’s Jaskier, she decides, and picks his up.

“Which pocket?” she asks.

“What?” Jaskier tears his eyes away from Geralt to blink at her. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Which pocket,” she repeats patiently. “You’re not intending to fuck him dry, are you?”

“That sounds like a terrible idea, yes,” Jaskier says. “Inside pocket in the back.”

“There we go.” Yennefer opens his bag and fishes out a fat little vial. “This one?”

“Yes,” Jaskier says, holding out a hand for it. Yennefer brings it over to them, because she’s being thoughtful, after all. “Er—thank you.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Yennefer says airly, sitting down beside Geralt and stroking a hand over his stomach. Geralt looks up at her. If she’d known he was open to being fucked, she’d have tried it herself by now. She has a toy or two lying around. “I’m going to touch you now, Geralt. Just while we let Jaskier do his work.”

“You don’t have to,” Geralt says, pushing himself up on his elbows. He says that about the strangest things sometimes, Yennefer thinks.

“Oh, I think I can find the strength in me,” she drawls, wrapping her fingers around his half-hard cock and tucking her hair behind her ear with her free hand. Kissing Jaskier was clearly enough to get him excited, and he’s only lost a bit of his erection since they stopped. “Jaskier?”

“I don’t need instructions,” Jaskier grumbles, popping open the little vial. Yennefer squeezes Geralt’s cock, and he inhales through gritted teeth.

“You really do have such a gorgeous cock, Geralt,” she says admiringly, giving it an easy stroke as Jaskier slicks up his fingers. “Jaskier’s missing out.”

“You talk too much,” Jaskier says, making a face at her, and Yennefer laughs.

There’s some irony,” she says, stroking Geralt’s cock again and earning a low hiss for it. Jaskier moves forward between his thighs, and Geralt spreads them a little further to give him better access to his body. Yennefer smiles widely.

“You’re sure?” Jaskier checks. Geralt gives him an impatient look.

“Hurry up and do something, Jaskier,” he says.

“Alright, alright, gods forbid I be sure. Big scary witchers don’t need a man to be polite with them,” Jaskier grumbles as he sets aside the vial on the nightstand and then rubs a slick finger against Geralt’s hole. Geralt tenses like it’s something unfamiliar, which perhaps it is, Yennefer supposes. Jaskier seems unbothered and doesn’t rush things, just rubbing languid circles around Geralt’s rim. He seems to know what he’s doing, at least. Yennefer keeps stroking Geralt’s cock, idly fantasizing about sitting on it. Geralt, again, has a very gorgeous cock.

He also makes very gorgeous noises, low and breathless little things that they are. Yennefer bites her tongue mostly to listen to them. Jaskier works him open carefully, drawing out more and more of those quiet noises, and Yennefer relishes them.

Jaskier reclaims his fingers, and Yennefer lets go of Geralt’s cock as the other adjusts his hips awkwardly. Jaskier leans over him, watching his face intently, and Geralt reaches down between them to guide the other’s cock in before Jaskier can do it himself, earning a groan for it.

“Oh, you’re tight,” Jaskier rasps, biting his lip. Geralt’s already flushed face reddens. Yennefer strokes his chest. “Can I move?”

“If you don’t move, I’m going to kill you,” Geralt says roughly, wrapping his legs around him. Jaskier doesn’t hesitate to listen and rocks his hips forward. Geralt’s face twists and he grabs his shoulders, fingers digging in tight. Jaskier presses a kiss against his temple and fucks him in shallow, steady thrusts. Geralt makes some more of those gorgeous noises.

“About time,” Yennefer says approvingly, watching them move together. Jaskier’s doing most of the work; Geralt looks a little overwhelmed. She supposes the bard must have some skill with that cock. “How’s he feel, Geralt?”

“Fine,” Geralt says thinly, teeth gritted. Jaskier huffs at him.

“Oh, I’m fine, am I,” he says, and snaps his hips in deeper. Geralt hisses.

“Jaskier,” he says. Jaskier’s eyes sharpen.

“Fuck,” he says. “Just—say my name again, will you?”

“. . . Jaskier,” Geralt repeats, slowly, and Jaskier leans down to kiss it out of his mouth and fucks him harder. Geralt makes a heady, heavy sound, digging his fingers into Jaskier’s back. Yennefer watches attentively, careful not to miss any of the good parts. She wants to touch herself, but it’d be distracting.

“Fuck him harder,” she says.

“Yen?” Geralt mumbles, trapped between their mouths. Yennefer strokes his hair back off his forehead.

“Don’t mind me,” she says lightly. “Just enjoying the view.”

“Sure you are,” Jaskier grunts, clearly more interested in what he’s doing than what he’s saying. He does, in fact, fuck Geralt harder, and Geralt clings to him and rocks up to meet him. They move together with surprising ease, and Yennefer’s actually a bit impressed by Jaskier’s stamina. She doubts he’ll actually be able to keep up with Geralt in the long run, but for the moment he’s doing rather well.

“I am, in fact,” she says, deciding to stroke Jaskier’s hair instead. He seems startled by the contact and nearly breaks his rhythm.

“Don’t stop,” Geralt says roughly, tightening his grip on Jaskier. Jaskier pushes his mouth into the corner of the other’s jaw and doesn’t stop.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Harder,” Geralt mutters, hiding his face in Jaskier’s shoulder. “Feels good.”

“Fuck!”

Yennefer watches them. Jaskier’s panting for breath and obviously struggling not to come yet, and Geralt’s moving into him greedily. She debates inserting herself, but the view’s so nice that she doesn’t really want to. They’re a lovely picture.

Apparently the three of them have very good sex, Yennefer reflects musingly. She clearly should’ve dragged Jaskier into the bedroom years ago.

Admittedly, they more or less met in a bedroom, but she was busy at the time.

Jaskier wraps a hand around Geralt’s cock, and Geralt jerks like he’s been startled, his fingers raking thin red lines across Jaskier’s back. It doesn’t take more than a few strokes before he’s coming into the other’s hand and all over himself.

“Oh, don’t you do that beautifully,” Jaskier breathes, watching his face raptly. Geralt’s expression twists.

“Come in me,” he says, voice pitched very quiet. Jaskier makes a strangled noise and very quickly does. Yennefer nearly makes a noise herself and moves in close against Geralt’s side, stroking his chest again.

“You two put on a good show,” she says approvingly as they recover.

“We aren’t a performance, thank you very much,” Jaskier grunts, pulling out of Geralt with a shudder. The two of them untangle and Jaskier hesitates for a moment, then carefully lays down against Geralt’s other side. He and Geralt both hold themselves very still, not relaxing into each other, and Yennefer gives them a wry look.

Again: men.

“So you liked that, Geralt?” she asks, drawing a circle on his chest. He glances over at her.

“Yes,” he says, and Jaskier finally softens against his side. Geralt’s still holding himself a bit stiffly, especially for a man who just came, but, well—it’s Geralt.

And they’ve got all night to help him relax.