"Are you ready, love?" Jaskier asks from behind him, and it takes Geralt a long moment to focus on his words. His head is pleasantly fuzzy already, his body loose and limp as he lays in Jaskier's arms. They're propped up against the headboard and a massive pile of pillows, and he feels so safe that it's ridiculous to be nervous.
Though Geralt's never been fucked by so many people before, so of course he's on edge.
But he looks up, and Coen is smiling back at him. Lambert and Eskel are right next to him, slowly stroking their cocks as they watch him with interest. And this, this is what he's always wanted. They're going to take such good care of him. He shivers, cunt clenching in anticipation, and nods before whispering, "yes."
"So good for us," Jaskier murmurs, his lips brushing against Geralt's ear. He turns towards the sound, sighing when Jaskier sucks his earlobe into his mouth, nipping lightly at it. He brings an arm up and slings it around Jaskier's shoulders, holding him close even as he spreads his legs for Coen to slide between them.
"Beautiful," Coen tells him softly, and Geralt feels his cheeks heating up. Coen takes himself in hand, pumping slowly from root to tip a few times before shifting forward to rub the head of his cock against Geralt's wet folds. He teases them both, sliding through Geralt's slick for a bit, refusing to give them what they both need. Geralt bucks his hips up, and Coen chuckles before asking, "Still good, Geralt?"
"Please," he breathes out, body so ready after being kissed and touched and teased for so long. He feels like they've been in this bed for hours, and he doesn't even know which man left each of the bruises that litter his skin. It's a heady thought, that he won't ever know, and he whines and reaches out with his free hand. "Fuck me, Coen," he orders, grinning when his friend nods sharply and moves even closer.
The first stretch feels so different from Jaskier. Coen's cock is thinner, but so much longer. Geralt gasps for air, suddenly overwhelmed as he's breached. He can hear Jaskier murmuring praise in his ear, but his head has gone floaty again. Coen gives him a moment to adjust, and Geralt squeezes his arm in thanks. He thinks he starts rambling, begging to be fucked, but all he can do is focus on the feeling of it, too lost to hear his own voice right now.
There's a mouth on his nipple, and Geralt slowly moves his head to see Lambert sucking on his chest. He palms the back of his head, encouraging him to keep going only to see Eskel crawl into his line of sight. Eskel leans in, giving Geralt time to stop him, but then they're kissing, messy and wet as Coen fucks into him. Geralt groans into Eskel mouth, his body on fire and his gut tightening already. He doesn't know who to touch, has never had so many gorgeous men on him at once.
It would be so easy to get used to this.
Coen fucks him gently, cupping his ass and lifting him up to meet each thrust. He's a gentlemen, even when balls deep in Geralt's cunt, and he fucking loves it. Someone trails their fingers through his folds, finding his clit and rubbing it roughly and dragging another moan out of him.
And then it's too much. Geralt cries out - swallowed by Eskel's sloppy kiss - and comes, his cunt spasming around Coen's gorgeous prick. It sends Coen over the edge, and Geralt shouts even louder when he feels him come inside of him, hot bursts filling him so sweetly. Coen fucks him through it, rocking his hips and grinding against Geralt's slick hole until he's empty.
As soon as Coen slips out, Lambert moves into place, not even giving Geralt a moment's rest before pressing inside of him. It's almost too much, but it feels too amazing to care. After all, this is what he wants, what he's spent months begging Jaskier to help him arrange. With a grunt, Lambert buries himself to the hilt, leaning down to suck on Geralt's neck as he starts to fuck him roughly.
Lambert feels so different than Coen, almost clawing at Geralt's hips as he slams into him. The sound of it is obscene, Geralt's cunt already filthy with Coen's seed and his own slick, and the wet noise echoes off the stone walls of the room. Eskel breaks the kiss, leaning down to mouth at Geralt's chest, and he feels Coen slide onto the side where Lambert had been. Jaskier's hands on his sides, his chin hooked over Geralt's shoulder, is enough to ground him, and Geralt gives into the urge to just feel.
Geralt gets lost in it all, his head swimming as he struggles to focus on one person. It's amazing, just how intense everything is right now. Lambert is solid and hot inside of him, hissing as he fucks Geralt with short quick thrusts. Eskel's mouth is wet against his chest, nibbling at him as he teases his nipples. And Jaskier's prick is hard and leaking against the small of his back, his hips bucking up against Geralt as he holds him tight.
"Fuck, Geralt," Lambert grunts out, his face buried against Geralt's neck. He scrapes his teeth over Geralt's skin, shaking as he continues to slam into him. "How are you so fucking tight, pretty boy?" he asks, and the words make Geralt feel absolutely filthy in the best possible way. He clenches down, laughing when Lambert swears and comes with a shout. Geralt isn't there yet, but he revels in his ability to make Lambert lose it.
Lambert fills him so nicely, pumping load after load of hot come inside of his cunt. Geralt rocks his hips, grinding against him as he spills, milking him dry. He wraps his legs around Lambert's hips, holding him there for a long moment while they both fight to breathe. Lambert is practically sobbing, his face wet as he hides it in Geralt's shoulder. Geralt rubs his back, murmuring soothing words as he comes down from his own orgasm.
Lambert slumps down to the side, and Eskel helps lay him down next to them before moving between Geralt's legs. He strokes his cock lazily, and the size of it makes Geralt's mouth water. He will never love anything more than Jaskier's fat cock - would be happy to fuck just him for the rest of their days - but Eskel is long and thick and it makes him desperate to get his mouth on it. Maybe next time, because fuck knows they're doing this more than once this winter.
"Shit," Eskel says breathily as he stares down at him. "They've really made a mess of you, huh?" he asks with a smirk, and Geralt flushes down to his navel before turning to hide his face against his bicep. Eskel doesn't give him a break, just chuckles before shoving two thick fingers inside of him. Geralt trembles, his clit throbbing almost painfully, desperate for more but loving the shame of it all. He feels so well used, no better than a whore in a brothel, and he can't get enough of it.
Eskel curls his fingers, stroking that place inside of him that makes his skin spark, and Geralt whines, his hips bucking as he chases the feeling. But then the fingers are gone, and Eskel lines up before slowly pushing inside. It's a stretch, the biggest one so far, and Geralt keens as Eskel works his way inside, pulling out before thrusting a little deeper each time. He has no doubt it wouldn't be this easy if Coen and Lambert hadn't ruined him so delightfully, and just the thought of it is enough to make his face burn again.
Eskel fucks like he fights - all strength and power - and Geralt is quickly on edge again. It takes him too long to realize that he's shaking, his limbs weak as Eskel plows into him. There's hands trailing over his chest, fingers caressing his wet folds, and he feels so fucking loved that it's enough to make him sob. His eyes water with unshed tears, totally overwhelmed by it all.
Jaskier is a solid presence behind him, his leaking cock rutting against the small of Geralt's back, and he reaches back to paw at his face, begging for a kiss. It's a bad angle, but Jaskier does his best to line up their mouths. Geralt sighs as their tongues slide together in a sloppy kiss. He clings to Jaskier even as Eskel fucks him hard and fast. He's so wet, slick practically down to his knees, and Geralt can feel another orgasm building in his core. He breaks the kiss with a whine, just breathing in Jaskier's space as his body plummets over the edge again.
It feels a bit like falling, his body shaking as it washes over him. He clamps down on Eskel's prick, dragging him along for the ride. Eskel shoots inside of him, groaning as he fucks him through it. He can feel Jaskier come against his back, coating him in hot messy streaks, and it feels so perfect he chokes out another loud sob.
They all collapse in a pile of limbs, and Geralt honestly can't tell who is touching him where. All he knows is how exhausted and incredible he feels. Eskel stays buried inside of him even as he goes soft, and Geralt hooks an ankle over his lower back to keep him in place. "Stay," he murmurs sleepily, and Eskel nods before rolling them to the side and settling on top of him again. Jaskier curls up against him, nosing at his neck and nuzzling him in a fit of adoration. Geralt is so fucking tired he can barely move.
"You're such a mess," Jaskier tells him in awe, a hand slipping between his filthy thighs. He can feel everyone's seed trickling out of him, and it sends an odd sense of pride through him. "As soon as I can move again, I'm going to eat you out until you pass out," Jaskier promises, and suddenly Geralt isn't so tired anymore.