Work Text:
Jaskier’s intercom buzzes and he pushes the button to admit his client before retreating behind the partition and latching it shut.
After a minute, he hears the studio door open and shut. Jaskier settles on the floor and waits to begin. His phone lights up with a silent notification: Payment received for service— Manicure.
Clothes rustle briefly, and then a soft dick slips through the hole in the partition.
He smiles to himself and gets to work.
The morning flies by, booked solid, but the afternoon appointments are spread out and time drags on while Jaskier waits for the last appointment of the day. He had considered driving home, but dealing with traffic twice more than necessary would undoubtedly sour his mellow mood. He sprawls in the salon chair and rests his eyes, wondering idly about his newest client. The new guy was referred by one of Jaskier’s regulars, so he is probably not a creep, but first time clients still give Jaskier butterflies.
His phone flashes, notifying him of a text message from an unsaved number.
[Address goes to a hair salon?]
[Separate rooms inside. Hit buzzer 15, come in. Room 15 is the last door on the left.]
Almost immediately, his intercom buzzes. Jaskier unlocks the front door, locks himself behind the partition, and kneels on the floor cushion. He takes a few deep breaths to center himself, letting his excitement build.
The client enters the room and hesitates by the door. Jaskier grins, thankfully hidden behind the faux bathroom stall. He taps the edge of the glory hole to draw the man’s attention.
“Oh! You’re already, uh. Yeah. That makes sense,” he says, rambling nervously through the one-sided conversation. “Should I— This is so embarrassing.”
Jaskier chuckles quietly and takes pity on him. He lowers his tone and talks slowly, trying to disguise his voice. He purrs, “Pay me, then get your cock out and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Do you prefer if I pay through the scheduling app or in cash?”
“Whatever you like,” Jaskier says. He appreciates the man’s thoughtfulness, but he hasn’t made a habit of talking to his clients so he can maintain his privacy and he can’t start now. Usually his mouth is too full to chat much anyway. He runs his finger teasingly around the smooth inner rim of the hole.
“Sent,” the new guy says, an instant before Jaskier’s phone flashes: Payment received for service— Blowout.
A heavy belt buckle jangles and the toes of two well-worn boots poke under the edge of the partition. Jaskier takes a sip of water and pumps flavored lube onto his hand, ready to impress. New Guy is tall; he has to spread his legs to line up properly with the hole. Once he has, Jaskier blinks uncomprehendingly at the cock presented to him.
It droops through the glory hole, an abundance of foreskin concealing the head. It’s bigger than most guys are when erect, but he’s still completely soft. His heavy sac can barely fit below the shaft, despite the hole being plenty large enough for every other client he’s had before. Jaskier’s mouth waters as he coaxes the tender flesh through the barrier. The other man goes still at the vulnerable position: cock and balls out of sight, cradled in the palm of a stranger.
Jaskier has a knife taped to his side of the wall in easy reach, though he had never exactly understood what Essi expected him to do with it. Certainly not amputate a fine specimen like this one, that’s for damn sure. He cups the man’s package in his hand, encircling the root of him with a thumb and forefinger, and he rubs his cheek across the man’s dick. His balls tense and relax against Jaskier’s hand, and he releases them to focus on the cock instead, hoping the man will calm down once he gets horny enough.
He pumps even more lube into his hand and licks his teeth to get saliva flowing. Jaskier vows to get that beast down his throat or die trying. He starts out slow, testing different sensations to see what his client prefers.
Teasing, tickling touches and light strokes have little impact other than making his client shift restlessly. The man requires a steady hand and firm pressure before his cock finally starts to fill. While he still has the opportunity, Jaskier wraps his lips around the shaft and takes it all the way to the base.
His client lets out a shivery moan and Jaskier would smile if his lips weren’t stretched wide. He can’t do much other than suck around the girth—no flickering tongue, no humming—but he can feel each heartbeat lengthening the cock in his mouth and sending it deeper into his throat. Jaskier thanks his lucky stars that his client’s dick doesn’t get much thicker than it was while soft; Jaskier has a pretty big mouth, but he isn’t a python who can unhinge his jaw as needed.
Jaskier works the length with his hand as he backs off, panting to make up for the scarce sips of air he could manage while deepthroating. His eyes are watery and drool drips down his chin.
He’s in heaven.
Jaskier’s dick is hard, but that’s secondary to how he’s starting to drift in that floaty place where he can tell he’s rocking this guy’s world, and making him feel good makes Jaskier feel good and it’s all a sweet spacey feedback loop. All his senses narrow down until his entire being is focused on the cock in front of him— how the plush head compares to the rigid shaft, how even fully erect this guy has enough foreskin to engulf the tip when Jaskier draws his fist up, how his breath catches when Jaskier grazes his teeth along the length, how it’s flushed so dark with how hard he is.
When his client comes, he growls and curses, nothing like the shy, awkward man who had entered Jaskier’s studio. Jaskier slurps loudly on the head, fist pumping through the mess of come and spit. His client’s knees thud against the wall as he bucks his hips as close as possible and Jaskier relaxes his jaw to take the last few thrusts.
His client slowly winds down, groaning raggedly. His cock takes even longer to soften than it did to get hard but Jaskier doesn’t notice, still flying high. He lavishes the massive cock with attention, cleaning it thoroughly with long swipes of his tongue until his client hisses with sensitivity and pulls out of the glory hole.
Jaskier stares blankly at the wall for a few minutes after the client thanks him quietly and leaves. He’s gripping his cock through his pants and basking in the afterglow of a good session, not urgent to get off, just enjoying it until laughter in the hallway outside his studio snaps him out of his haze. He adjusts himself in his pants as he gets to his feet, drying his hands and face on a wad of paper towels.
His phone blinks with a notification. When he swipes the screen open, he sees that his new client has already booked another session. Jaskier saves his number as ANACONDA with three eggplant emoji after it, then wipes his studio down and brushes his teeth in the deep salon sink, slurping water from the shower-head nozzle messily. Once he’s done with his closing routine, he saunters down to Room 3 and says goodbye to Essi before driving home, the world still pleasantly soft-edged.
He bumps into his neighbor on the stairs to their apartments, Jaskier heading up while the neighbor and his dog are heading down. His neighbor is broad as a barn and he seems really sweet despite the gnarly scars that run from temple to jaw that would suggest otherwise. Jaskier had shamelessly ogled his neighbor and his equally hot friends when they were moving furniture in, and his loins still haven’t recovered from the experience. The normally polite dog squirms with glee and lunges forward to lick Jaskier’s face; Jaskier turns away and reminds himself to shower when he gets upstairs. He’s prevented from making small talk with his hot neighbor by the headphone cables hanging from his neighbor’s ears. They smile and nod at each other, and Jaskier only feels the tiniest sliver of guilt that he hopes his neighbor’s boyfriend is coming over tonight so he can listen to them fuck.
Jaskier’s client slides his dick through the hole, flashing a black tattoo at the base of his shaft, which must have hurt like a bitch. The lines are bold and simple, as if the artist was careful but inexperienced. It vaguely resembles a blurry cat head in profile at first, but once his client gets hard, Jaskier knows from experience that it will look like a sabertooth tiger. The tattoo is absolutely ridiculous and Jaskier loves it. More than the tattoo, he loves the energy of branding someone’s cock with a vicious beast and then making them beg, “Kitten, please,” while a stranger sucks the aforementioned cock through a glory hole.
“Patience, Lamb,” the man called Kitten says. They really are too cute for words. “Not yet.” His elegant hands hold Lamb’s hips and Jaskier spies a braided cuff of brown leather on his left wrist.
“C’mon, let me fuck it,” Lamb says, his dick is already filling after proximity to the hole. Lamb is always an eager one.
Kitten hisses, sounding shocked and appalled. “There’s a person back there, not a thing, and just because they’re a great cocksucker doesn’t make them any less deserving of respect.” Lamb yelps in pain as they move out of Jaskier’s sight. “You of all people should know that.”
Jaskier is not privy to the intricacies of their game, other than that the glory hole is used as either a bargaining chip or a treat, but he’s certain that Lamb is in big trouble. Lamb asks in an undertone for Kitten to reconsider and Jaskier’s belly warms. His mouth is absolutely a reward worth fighting for.
“I apologize for his rudeness,” Kitten says firmly to Jaskier. “I’d offer to let him suck you off as penance, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t be much of a punishment for him. I’m sure you understand.”
As a man who sucks dicks for fun and profit, Jaskier does understand— plus, they already paid. He was looking forward to their appointment, to the warm and blurry pleasure he gets from his work, but there’s no reason to argue with free money. Jaskier puts his hand over the hole as if it’s closed for business. Lamb groans with annoyance but they leave without another word.
Jaskier bounds up the stairs toward his apartment, horny beyond belief after a busy day. There’s a rattle of metal and then Jaskier is nose-to-nose with the big mutt from next door. Jaskier pushes the dog back and crests the stairs to see a stranger jiggling keys in his neighbor’s lock.
“C’mere, Roach,” the stranger says. He tugs the dog’s leash to pull it away from sniffing Jaskier’s crotch.
This must be the boyfriend— one half of the ‘E. Morhen and G. DeRivia’ that is printed on their apartment intercom. Jaskier has gathered by now that his neighbor’s partner is rarely around, stopping in for a few days every couple weeks for frantic fuckfests before leaving again. It seems like the perfect relationship, in Jaskier’s opinion.
He drinks in the details of this never-before-seen neighbor, redrawing the mental image he had crafted during all the times he’s heard this man fuck. He’s dressed like he just finished a run, in well-fitting workout clothes. A few wisps of platinum blonde hair have escaped from where they were tucked under a black beanie. His ass is magnificent. Jaskier wonders if this is Eric or Greg, as he has been calling them ever since Neighbor and Neighbor’s Boyfriend started cluttering his sexual fantasies. The other name is listed first, so Jaskier decides this is Greg.
“Lift and kick,” Jaskier suggests, demonstrating the technique on his own door. Their apartments are mirror images so the entrances are close together. He can smell Greg’s sweat and sees it shine in the hollow of his throat.
“Thanks.” Greg’s voice is low and rough, and it pools in Jaskier’s gut. His eyes are unusually light brown, glinting as they flicker over Jaskier’s body.
Jaskier lingers on the welcome mat, hoping Greg’s interest will become more than casual, but all he gets is a nod before Greg guides Roach into the apartment and shuts the door. Disappointed but not surprised, Jaskier hangs his keys up and kicks off his shoes in the entryway, then he heads straight for his bedroom, already palming his dick through his jeans.
He undresses rapidly, the simmering arousal he gets from work suddenly boiling up inside of him. His second-to-last client booked a Full Service appointment, leaving Jaskier's ass stretched and empty after he pulled out to finish on Jaskier’s face. Jaskier piles pillows on the bed and straps a thick stainless steel dildo on top. He sinks onto it so fast it makes his stomach turn, but a few drags of his slippery fist on his dick bring him right back to the edge. When he kneels up, the weighted steel slides out, frictionless and unyielding. He drops back down, punching a small sound out of himself.
The bedroom door in his neighbor’s apartment shuts and Jaskier tries to stay quiet enough that he still has plausible deniability. It’s one thing to hear your neighbor fucking because the walls are too thin, but Jaskier doesn’t want to be evicted for noise complaints. He rests his cheek against the wall and listens to the perhaps-imagined rustling on the other side, picturing Greg stripping out of his sweaty clothes.
Instead of hearing the other man move to the bathroom to shower, he hears the squeak of their bed frame, as if someone has settled heavily on the mattress. Jaskier’s hips jump, an instinctive response to the familiar noise. He moans, working the dildo deeper and harder as his fist speeds up.
There’s a metallic beep on the other side of the wall, then a pause, then two more beeps in quick succession. Phone notifications, he guesses. Jaskier pictures Greg spread out on his bed, getting himself off while sexting Eric. He wonders if Greg would reveal that he can hear Jaskier or if this show is for Greg alone. Jaskier has to bite his lip to keep from crying out at the intimacy of a secret shared between strangers— the same allure that drew him to glory holes in the first place.
His muscles ache, tired from riding the toy and long hours spent on his knees. It’s harder to restrain his gasps as he rushes toward his peak and he nearly misses the sound of the bed frame creaking again. Before he can invent a plausibly sexy explanation for Greg getting up, there is the scuff of a knuckle on the other side of the wall, dragging vertically downward from the height of Jaskier’s mouth to his belly, ending with a knock exactly level with Jaskier’s dick.
Jaskier moans aloud and streaks his side of the wall with come.
He has another new client, which is a rarity after a steady panel of regulars for so long. This one was referred by Anaconda who had been referred by Lamb, and Jaskier idly contemplates the circumstances of the friendship between them, since they’re all so close that they feel comfortable suggesting a sex worker.
This new guy doesn’t text with questions; he buzzes the intercom and enters as confidently as someone who has done it a dozen times. He slips cash through the hole, the bills held lightly between two scarred and calloused fingers. Jaskier takes the money and runs his tongue up the seam between those fingers before they can pull away. The man pets his tongue and lips, and Jaskier smiles wide so the client can feel it. A fingertip runs across the edge of his teeth appraisingly.
The warm fingers disappear and are replaced with a firm cock, plump and petal pink, a patch of light silver hair at the base. He’s cut, with a slight shift in skin tone a third of the way down his shaft. Jaskier huffs hot air and is surprised by how quickly his dick fills out, eager for more stimulation.
Jaskier wonders how long his client has been thinking about this… if it’s his first glory hole and he has been waiting his whole life for a chance, or if he’s experienced and gets as much of a thrill from it as Jaskier does.
The silver fox gets wet, precome bubbling from his slit almost immediately once Jaskier starts stroking his hard cock. Jaskier keeps his hand lower on the shaft and swirls his tongue around the head, trying to get only the man’s taste, untainted by flavored lube. He’s salty and clean, and Jaskier is greedy for more. He laps at the slit, catching drops straight from the source, then lays the head on the flat of his tongue. With two fingers steadying him at the base, Jaskier focuses all his attention on the underside of the head, thrusting his tongue forward and back then side-to-side, keeping his tongue soft, caressing the frenulum and letting only air tease the rest of him.
Before he reaches the point of overstimulation, Jaskier pumps smoothly from base to tip, twisting as he gets closer to the end, and he’s rewarded with a gush of precome. He wrings out a couple more and rolls the taste around his mouth to savor it.
The harder Silver Fox gets, the more pronounced the downward curve of his dick, which suits Jaskier perfectly. He ducks under it then takes it deep, working his hand in counterpoint.
Despite how responsive his cock is, the man himself might as well be in another dimension. Most clients try to stay quiet, mindful of the discretion necessary when the surrounding rooms are occupied, but this guy is absolutely silent. Jaskier can’t hear him at all over the whirring of blow dryers and the constant chatter—no heavy breathing or moaning… Nothing.
It’s almost offensive, really, to not show some sign of appreciation. Jaskier doesn’t expect flowers and cuddles—doesn’t want them, either, which is why there’s a wall between them—but a gasp or groan wouldn’t be out of place while receiving the finest anonymous oral sex to be found within city limits.
He tries to get back into a good headspace, not letting the silence bother him. His client doesn’t owe him anything other than payment for the service. Jaskier hums around the length, nose brushing soft curls. He feels a slight twitch against the roof of his mouth and an idea forms. The man himself won’t give any hints, but his body will.
Jaskier shifts so his lips are wrapped snug beneath the head and he sucks rhythmically, matching tempo with his hand. He’s pleased to feel Silver Fox harden further and leak a little more. Jaskier threads his fingers through the glory hole and fondles his balls, covertly checking if they start to draw up tighter with tension.
After a few minutes, his balls jump, and Jaskier immediately retreats. Silver Fox’s dick is flushed deeply red, shiny-wet and traced with thick veins. Jaskier almost feels bad for leaving him hanging in the cool air of the studio. Almost.
He tries to play aloof, but he can’t bear to waste a drop of the precome beading at the tip, so he collects it with a flick of his tongue. There’s a barely audible grunt from the other side of the wall.
Jaskier sees an inch and plans to take a mile.
He resumes the same technique as before, keeping only the tip in his mouth so he can vary the suction, and working the rest of the guy’s package with his hands. Quicker than last time, he teases Silver Fox back to the brink. He’s more in tune with how Silver Fox reacts now, and he can read his body language even without seeing the rest of him.
Jaskier has to force himself to stop when the other man gets close, almost so excited about the game that he ruins it. He manages to let go just in time and smugly watches Silver Fox rut into the hole a couple times, making sure to stay far enough away that he can’t rub his cock on Jaskier’s cheek.
He edges Silver Fox right back up again, cruelly tormenting him. He’d normally never bother—most people come to a glory hole for a quick, anonymous release—but something about this client makes Jaskier want to piss him off, get him desperate. That’s what he deserves for not being an appreciative recipient of Jaskier’s talents.
The third time Jaskier pulls off, there’s a rough growl, and Silver Fox hooks two fingers into the hole. Jaskier is convinced that if there wasn’t a barrier between them, Silver Fox would’ve grabbed his hair and tugged him back down. A ripple of heat blooms in Jaskier’s belly.
Jaskier hasn’t been face-to-face with a client—or any other sexual partner—in ages and he almost misses it. But nothing compares to the illicit rush he gets from looking at a stranger and wondering, Have I sucked your cock? Have you fucked me?
Thoughtlessly, hungrily, he wraps his mouth back around Silver Fox’s dick, and after the first pull of suction, Silver Fox grunts. Just like that, he spills, bitter come flooding Jaskier’s mouth.
He rolls his tongue over the head and sucks firmly until there’s a thump on the other side of the wall, likely a fist. Jaskier smirks around the load, letting a little dribble out so he can slick his fingers with it and fill the air with the scent.
Sometimes he’s nice and makes sure he doesn’t leave a trace behind, but he wants this client to walk out of his studio with a sticky mess in his pants. If Silver Fox wanted to call the shots, he came to the wrong glory hole.
The next time he’s due for a visit from Lamb and Kitten, they’re late. He stares at the water stains on the ceiling and wonders if they’re going to keep the appointment or if Lamb hasn’t earned another treat yet. Jaskier would almost prefer to nap; Eric has returned from wherever he was and Greg has stuck around for a week straight. Listening to them try to fuck each other straight through the shared bedroom wall went from ‘unbearably sexy’ to ‘extremely annoying (but still sexy)’ after night four.
The intercom buzzes, so Jaskier roughly pats his cheeks to wake up. He makes it behind the partition just in time. Lambert’s cock is out and rock hard by the time Jaskier settles on his cushion. Jaskier preens internally.
“Ah-ah,” Kitten chides. “I know you’re excited, and it’s been so long, but remember your manners.” There’s a long pause.
“I’m sorry for what I said last time, Jaskier,” Lamb grumbles. “Thanks for letting me come back.”
“There you go. Now give it to him.” Lamb’s dick thrusts through the partition. “Keep your hips against the wall.”
“I know, I know,” Lamb bitches. Despite his protests to the contrary, Lamb jolts back when Jaskier engulfs the head of his cock and gives it a hard suck. There’s the harsh crack of a hand on Lamb’s ass and his hips immediately thud against the partition. “That’s not fair! He—”
“He’s simply doing his job,” Kitten says. “Your job is to keep your damn hips on the wall. I know you can’t help the fact that you never escaped puberty, but at least have some dignity. It’s what separates us from the animals.”
As Jaskier licks long stripes up either side of Lamb’s cock, Lamb mumbles, “Humans are animals.”
Some of Jaskier’s clients like to talk. Often it’s praise for how well Jaskier is treating them since he is very, very good at it, but occasionally it’s dark, degrading shit that doesn’t really do anything for Jaskier. It’s not difficult to tune them out and enjoy himself anyway. He’s not ashamed of being a sex worker—hell, it takes two to tango, as the saying goes. Kitten is a special case, however, because he spouts off ten kinds of filthy shit, but it’s all aimed at Lamb.
“You might be right,” Kitten says wryly. “If you don’t come at least once a day you walk around half-hard like a beast in rut.” He chuckles then continues, “And like a stud, you don’t care who’s presented to you as long as they get you off.”
Jaskier can hear the sounds of messy kissing and Lamb is hard as steel, obviously enjoying the taunting. He slows down so he can listen better, and catches the sharp click of teeth snapping together.
“Oh yes, fearsome boy,” Kitten says, laughing. “Such an alpha male. Has to get his prick wet or he'll be in a terrible mood.”
“Fuck off,” Lamb growls.
“Budge over,” Kitten says, pushing Lamb away from the glory hole and ignoring his shout of annoyance. His dick slides out of Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier expects to see Kitten’s cock for the first time, but instead he pokes a few fingers through the hole. “Spare a drop of lube for an old friend?”
Jaskier pumps slick into Kitten’s hand, curious where this is headed. They aren’t friends, but Jaskier has lube to spare. As soon as Lamb’s cock is back through the hole, Jaskier connects the dots.
“Let’s not waste the poor man’s time,” Kitten says. Lamb hisses and wiggles against the partition, no doubt adjusting to having fingers inside him. “I’m sure he has more important things to do than humoring my attempts to keep you satisfied.”
There’s nowhere else Jaskier would rather be than on his knees, and nothing else he’d rather be doing than sucking cock, but there’s no reason to let Lamb know that. He sighs gustily and roughly fists the base of Lamb’s dick, then takes him into his mouth. Jaskier sucks hard and fast as if he doesn’t care about quality at all, not covering his teeth or building up to a big finish. Nevertheless, Lamb climaxes almost laughably quick, whining pitifully and pinned to the wall like a butterfly.
He gentles Lamb down after, matching the soothing tone of Kitten praising Lamb for finishing quickly, as requested. Jaskier borrows a little of that praise for himself, since he helped Lamb obey, and it gives him the boost he needed to perform well for the rest of his clients that day.
As he walks from the parking lot, Jaskier rattles his keys in his hand and tries to decide which need is more pressing: his hunger or his arousal. His last client was Anaconda, which means Jaskier could probably come if the wind blew hard enough, but he hadn’t had anything for lunch besides a few crackers he found in a battered box under the seat of his car. He mindlessly walks into the breezeway of his apartment building, still mulling his options, and is surprised to find it well over capacity. Eric and Greg and the fucking dog are inside, all tangled up with a mountain of takeout food between them. The bags are from an excellent restaurant in the same plaza as Jaskier’s studio, and he regrets not stopping there for his own dinner.
“You weren’t supposed to be home for two more weeks,” Eric says sharply, almost scolding. “If I had known you’d be back, I wouldn’t have set up an appointment with—”
“Job finished early,” Greg responds. His amber eyes snap to Jaskier and he presses his lips shut.
“Sorry for interrupting your happy reunion.” Jaskier says lightly. “Let me just…” He shuffles sideways, trying to edge around them to reach the door in a space absolutely not designed for three men and a dog to share. His traitorous body can’t be trusted in these circumstances, with either the food or the men.
“Hey, you’re our neighbor, right?” Eric asks, blissfully unaware that Jaskier is rapidly descending into madness. “We’ve lived here so long, I can’t believe I haven’t gotten your name.” A friendly smile crinkles the harrowing scars that track down one side of his face. “I’m Eskel. This is Geralt.” He tips his head at the other man. So much for Eric and Greg.
They awkwardly shake hands in the cramped entryway between the interior and exterior doors, and Jaskier chuckles at the ridiculous situation. “I’m Jaskier,” he says. “We’ll have to talk more sometime when we aren’t so… squished.”
Eskel splutters at his introduction and goes red on most of his face, except the scars blanch instead.
“Jaskier? What an interesting name,” Geralt says sharply. He cocks his head to one side and squints at Jaskier for a moment too long to be polite. “What do you do for work, Jaskier?”
Jaskier’s ears ring and he sees his life flash before his eyes. His apartment is labeled J. Pankratz. Jaskier is the name on the intercom at the salon; he intentionally doesn’t use it in his personal life to maintain his privacy. Normally he wouldn’t be this flustered at an innocent question, but he hasn’t knowingly seen the face of a guy he’s blown for cash since before he left Oxenfurt, and he hadn’t planned to break his streak now. Unfortunately for him, these guys are so hot it makes his toes curl and the looks they’re giving him makes it very clear they’re rapidly approaching the same conclusion about Jaskier’s choice of employment.
Geralt’s gaze locks on his mouth, which has fallen open slightly with shock. Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with his hands. On impulse, he ignores the question and pulls out his phone, tilting it away so they don’t see the word ANACONDA and those damn eggplants, then shoots off a message. The long, awkward silence is broken by the buzz of Eskel’s phone.
When Eskel checks it, Jaskier silently prays for news of an impending meteor strike if he’s wrong about this. Eskel turns his phone around to show the same text message string, with Jaskier GH at the top. At the bottom is the fucking smiley face emoji he sent. Jaskier has outed himself with the most basic emoji in existence. At least that’s better than ignoring his unbelievably built neighbor’s polite question in favor of sending a random text to his last client.
Eskel’s grinning and flushed, but Geralt is staring at Jaskier so intensely it’s like a physical touch. He’s not angry; it’s like he wants to devour Jaskier.
Jaskier flicks his eyes between Anaconda Eskel and Geralt, wondering if he’s the Silver Fox. He knows exactly how Eskel’s cock tastes; he was sucking it not more than thirty minutes ago. If Jaskier’s gut instinct is correct, he knows exactly how Geralt’s tastes as well. The spike of adrenaline has his dick taking notice of how they’re all pressed so close together and Jaskier feels giddy laughter bubbling up in his chest.
He hasn’t fucked someone without a wall between them in ages, but these guys are gorgeous and he’s starving in more ways than one. He rests a hand on each of their muscular chests, enjoying their body heat against his palms. “If you take me upstairs and feed me dinner,” he says, dropping his voice to a sultry purr, “I’ll give you a hands-on demonstration of what I do for work.”