Chapter Text
On Saturday morning they are woken by Ciri’s singing from the kitchen. It’s one of the songs Jaskier has taught her, and Geralt feels the Dom smile against his shoulder as he slowly blinks awake.
“I think this might be even more satisfying than performing my music for a crowd,” he says softly as they hear Ciri’s voice reach the crescendo of the song.
Geralt hums and presses his lips against Jaskier’s forehead. There is a swell of emotion in his chest, growing larger and larger until he can’t contain it. He lays his cheek against Jaskier’s hair and tries to give words to the feeling.
“I didn’t think I would get here,” he says softly.
“Hm, and where is that?”
Geralt swallows heavily. “Happy, like this. Ciri always worried, and I always told her I was content. She said I could be happier. I didn’t think that was something I was meant for.”
Unsurprisingly, the dom shifts against him and lifts himself up to lean on an elbow. With his other hand he cups Geralt’s cheek, and that feeling in his chest swells further as Jaskier looks down at him.
“I love you,” he rumbles softly, before his partner gets the chance to open his mouth.
Jaskier smiles and closes his eyes, as if he’s savouring the words. “Sweetheart,” the Dom says breathlessly before gazing down at him again, “You are meant for so much love and happiness. That you ever thought differently is a shame, darling. If you need me to, I'll tell you every day.”
Jaskier kisses him then, and Geralt winds his large hands in the Dom’s soft, dark curls. When Jaskier shifts to trail kisses along his jaw and whispers words of love in his ear, Geralt can’t help but shake underneath him.
They are interrupted by Ciri banging on the bedroom door loudly.
“Dad!, Jask! Breakfast is ready, come out before it’s brunch instead!”
Jaskier rolls off of him and laughs, and Geralt trails his fingers across the man’s spine as he moves out of the bed toward the shower. The Dom looks at him over his shoulder with a smile, and Geralt is helpless but to follow.
—000—
The majority of the weekend is spent with the three of them. They eat, they laugh, and Ciri and Jaskier sing and dance through the living room and garden. That bursting feeling in Geralt’s chest is ever present, and swells when he looks at the both of them together.
Early Sunday afternoon they go to the icecream parlour at the harbour, and when both Ciri and Jaskier make big eyes at him and beg for not two, but three different flavours, Geralt is more than glad to relent and hear their cries of victory. He pays this time, and he gets a sweet, sugary kiss from Jaskier, the taste of caramel crunch ice cream a contrast to his own more tart raspberry one. Ciri demands she gets to taste all of the different flavours, and they end up trading the horns from hand to hand.
They eventually drop Ciri off at Dara’s house, and Geralt makes sure the boy’s parents are there while Jaskier elbows him in the side gently. Ciri rolls her eyes dramatically, but lets him hug her and ruffle her light blonde hair. She kisses Jaskier on the cheek, and then storms up the stairs behind Dara, while the boy’s mother lets them out of the house and waves them off.
“Don’t worry Geralt,” she says kindly. “They are more likely to burn the house down than anything else, and I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. Go have your date night.” She smiles and winks as she says it, and Geralt finds that smiling back and thanking her comes easy as Jaskier threads his fingers through his.
—000—
After a light meal from a food truck by the water, they ride the subway to the closest stop to Jaskier’s house, and though it isn’t necessary, Geralt cages him in the way he’d done that time the car had been filled to the brim with the press of people. Jaskier evidently remembers the same thing, his blue eyes sparkling as he presses a hand to Geralt’s side.
They walk side by side the rest of the way, the light soft and golden as the sun slowly starts its track toward the horizon. Jaskier pulls Geralt’s arm around his shoulders and slings his own around his waist, and it’s comfortable.
They enter the house and take off their shoes, and when Geralt turns to move toward the living room Jaskier’s hands land on his sides and the Dom plasters himself against his back to whisper in his ear.
“Sweetheart, how are you feeling?”
Geralt knows what he’s asking, and bends his head forward, laying a hand over one of Jaskier’s for a moment. “I feel good, Sir,” he murmurs. “Green.” He gets kisses pressed against the side of his neck, before the Dom’s teeth press against the muscle. He groans softly against the dull pressure, but holds still until Jaskier lets him go.
“It will be dark soon. I want you to go to the living room and undress. Take a seat in the chair on the swivel base, and turn it toward the windows. I’ll get some things from the bedroom. Don’t look back. You’ll keep looking toward the windows. You won’t close your eyes.”
Geralt shivers and nods, and Jaskier’s teeth momentarily return to his neck, on the other side this time. The bite is a little more sharp, and his breath rushes out of him.
“Verbal response,” Jaskier orders him.
“Yes Sir. Green,” he says.
The Dom reaches forward, arm coming around him, and gently cups a hand over Geralt’s groin. The simple touches and orders have been enough to have him fill out against the fabric of his jeans, and when Jaskier squeezes him electricity shoots down his spine.
“Hm,” Jaskier hums from behind him, now only gently cupping. “Good boy.” Geralt’s cock twitches, and he knows the other man can feel it against his palm. Heat floods his cheeks and his breathing becomes laboured. Jaskier lets go of him and gives him a gentle push toward the living room, moving toward the bedroom himself.
Geralt undresses quickly and folds his clothes into a stack he places on the couch. It’s only when he sits himself down in the leather armchair and turns it around toward the windows that he realises what his Dom’s purpose was in seating him there. It will be dark soon , Jaskier had said. The light outside is already low enough that he can see his reflection in the windows. As it gets darker outside, it will only become more pronounced, the large ceiling to floor windows effectively serving as a mirror.
Jaskier ordered him to keep looking, to not close his eyes, and Geralt can feel the flush in his cheeks creep down his neck, toward his chest, as he takes in his naked reflection. He’s assumed the same position Jaskier put him in in this chair the first time. His hands are on the leather armrests, and his feet are planted hip with apart. He can see his own erection between his legs, the way his cock is hard and pressed against his belly, even though his Dom isn’t here yet. Geralt feels anticipation surge in his bloodstream, and obediently keeps his eyes on his reflection in the window as he waits.
—000—
When Jaskier enters the living room he pauses a moment to take in the sight before him. Geralt is seated the way he instructed, his back toward him, facing the dark outside. He lets his gaze drift up the agent’s reflection, registering the way he’s spread himself out, as if Jaskier himself had put him there.
Their eyes meet in the mirroring glass, and Jaskier smiles at his sub in approval. Geralt’s mouth parts softly in response, and the temptation of it is almost enough for Jaskier to order the large man to his knees, and give him something to slip between his lips.
He has different plans this evening though, a different itch to scratch, one he thinks Geralt will more than enjoy.
Geralt obediently keeps his eyes where they are as Jaskier approaches, and he sees his sub take in what he’s holding in his hands. He reaches forward to pull the hair tie out of the agent’s long white locks, and winds his fingers in it instead. As he pulls his head back, his sub dutifully keeps his eyes on their reflection, and it makes his lashes fan over his cheeks attractively.
“Look at you,” Jaskier murmurs softly, and sees the quickening of Geralt’s pulse at the base of his throat. “You’re so good, sweetheart. You’re perfect.” The big man shivers slightly in response, and Jaskier leans forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips before he lets go of his sub’s hair. “I know you saw what i’m holding in my hands,” he says and raises them again for good measure.
Geralt’s eyes flick between the items he’s holding. There is a set of sturdy but softly lined leather wrist-cuffs, as well as a pair that’s meant to restrain elbows, a relatively small black plug, and lubricant. When the white haired man makes eye contact through their reflection, Jaskier tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. His sub licks his lips, and the red flush at his throat creeps further down. Geralt opens his mouth, but just nods, and Jaskier can see the bob of his adams apple.
“Verbal response,” he orders with a slight sternness to his voice.
“Green, Sir,” Geralt says, but then seems to bite something back.
Jaskier tilts his head again. “Geralt,” he says, the stern tone a little more pronounced. His sub makes a soft sound of distress at the back of his throat, and he raises a hand to pet through his hair. “You were holding back something. Do I need to know what it is?” he asks, looking at the large man in the window’s reflection.
“I— yes Sir,” the agent responds softly. “I’m sorry.”
Jaskier keeps petting him, signalling his sub that he’s not upset with him, quietly waiting for him to continue.
“I can recognise the wrist cuffs, and— and the plug,” Geralt says, his flush becoming more pronounced. “I’m just not entirely sure where those go,” he rumbles as he jerks his head toward the elbow cuffs in Jaskier’s hand.
“Sweetheart,” Jaskier says softly. “I’m curious why you responded with green if you didn’t know what you were saying yes to.” He thinks there’s two ways this can go. Either Geralt stumbled across an old pitfall and held something back for fear of disappointing Jaskier, or—
“I don’t need to know everything to know I trust you with it,” his sub says, shifting slightly in the leather armchair. “I know I can trust you to pause and explain if I need to yellow it later.”
Jaskier lets the items drop to the floor and lays one hand under Geralt’s chin to tilt his head back, the other curling around the base of the sub’s throat. When he kisses him, Geralt opens for him immediately, and lets him explore his mouth. He can’t resist trailing his fingers down over the agent’s chest, and when he gently pinches a nipple, Geralt jerks slightly and moans into his mouth.
Jaskier gentles his kiss eventually, and backs off to look into his sub’s golden eyes. They’re a little hazy, but there is a slight smile on Geralt’s face as well. “Thank you, sweetheart,” Jaskier murmurs softly.
They’re looking at each other upside down, and Geralt nods slowly. “I love you,” he says, and Jaskier’s heart feels full.
“I love you, darling,” he responds, pressing another kiss to the sub’s lips.
—000—
His Dom orders him to bring his arms behind the chair’s back, and Geralt does so without hesitation. Jaskier clasps the restraints around his wrists first, and the inside of the cuffs is soft enough there is no pressure of chafing on the joints. Geralt pulls against them experimentally, and finds that it makes his breath catch when he can’t shift them. His Dom laughs gently.
“You won’t be able to get out of those, sweetheart. Not unless I let you.” He pauses to catch Geralt’s eyes in the window. “Colour?” he asks, while simultaneously holding up the cuffs meant to bind his elbows.
Geralt knows that with his wrists and elbows restrained, he’ll lose the use of his arms very effectively, and the idea that it’s Jaskier who restrains him that way makes his cock leak against his stomach. “Green,” he answers, and hears the way he sounds slightly breathless.
His Dom strokes his hands over his shoulders and down his arms, pressing his elbows together slightly, before he binds them with the cuffs. Geralt stares at him in the reflection, looks at the strong line of his shoulders, and the way he moves confidently as he restrains him.
“Keep looking at yourself,” Jaskier orders him as he rounds to Geralt’s front.
He obeys as Jaskier sinks to his knees in front of him, and strokes his hands up his thighs, pushing them apart a little more. The Dom leans forward to ghost his breath over his hard, leaking cock, and Geralt has to fight to keep his eyes open.
It’s dark enough now that his reflection can clearly be seen, and he observes the way his chest heaves, pressed forward by the position of his arms behind him. His thighs are splayed wide, and Jaskier is fully clothed, kneeling between them.
Hot lips slide around the head of his cock without warning, and he lets out a strangled moan. Had his arms and hands been free, he isn’t sure he would have been able to keep them still on the chair’s armrests, but the cuffs keep him restrained securely as he jerks against them. He sees the Dom move in the reflection and feels the corresponding movement of his mouth over him as Jaskier swallows him down and takes him into his throat. He shudders violently, and realises there’s one order he hasn’t gotten, though he hasn’t received permission either.
“Sir,” he groans, eyes on the window obediently. “Sir, please. You— you haven’t told me if—”
The Dom pulls off him and looks up. “Eye contact,” he orders, and Geralt snaps his eyes down to the man kneeling between his legs. Jaskier’s eyes are very blue, the pupils dark and expanded, and his lips are red and slightly wet. Geralt jerks against his restraints again, panting slightly, and Jaskier sits back on his heels to take him in. “Colour?” he asks curiously.
“Green,” Geralt responds desperately, staring down at his Dom. When Jaskier bends his head back down to lick a long stripe along his cock, eyes still taking him in, he shudders and feels himself leak.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” Jaskier says gently.
“I need to know if I’m allowed to come, Sir,” Geralt manages to verbalise, his stomach fluttering when Jaskier just smiles at him.
“Good boy,” the Dom says, his voice honey warm with approval, and more precome leaks onto Geralt’s belly. “You’re not allowed to come unless I tell you, and that won’t be until I come myself,” Jaskier says, and Geralt swallows and nods, wondering how hard that’s going to be. It might just be a while, since Jaskier hasn’t even taken his clothes off.
When Jaskier takes him into his mouth again, Geralt doesn’t miss the sound of the lube cap opening, and expects it when he’s pulled forward slightly to have slick fingers circle his hole. He feels sweat gather at his temples as Jaskier presses inside, while his tongue strokes over the head of his cock. He’s rather thankful the only thing he can see in the reflection of the window is Jaskier’s back and broad shoulders between his legs, the actual act of his Dom pleasuring him obscured by the position.
When something slightly cold and slick is pressed against him and Jaskier lets his erection slip from between his lips, the Dom glances back over his own shoulder, taking in the image he’s ordered Geralt to keep his eyes on. Their eyes meet in the reflection, and Geralt pants as his Dom holds his gaze, while he slowly presses the plug inside of him.
Jaskier pushes it in and upward slightly, and only lets go when Geralt makes a choked off noise as it settles against his prostate. The pressure isn’t intense, but it’s just, there , and he feels hazy and shivery with the pleasure of it.
Jaskier rises to stand before him. “Eyes on me now, sweetheart,” he orders, and Geralt has to repeat the words in his mind. He feels slightly slow and floating, but he wants to be good for Jaskier, and manages to comply. The Dom undresses slowly, and he can’t help but shift in his seat a little, pulling against his restraints. The movement makes the plug shift inside him, dragging across his prostate, and the small whimper is past his lips before he knew it was coming.
“You’re good, sweetheart. You’re doing so well,” Jaskier soothes him, as he finally takes off the last of his clothing and stands naked before him. There are soft, begging words spilling over Geralt’s lips while he looks up at his Dom’s eyes, and Jaskier’s smile is gentle and indulgent.
Jaskier presses his knees closer together now, and comes to stand over him. His Dom reaches forward to drag his thumb over his lips, and Geralt parts them immediately. He’s not entirely in deliberate control of his actions. His thoughts are hazy and all he knows is that he wants the man before him. When he lets his tongue come out to lick across the pad of Jaskier’s thumb, the other man’s eyes heat unmistakably.
His Dom pets through his hair. “Oh, sweetheart. You go under so beautifully. Can you use your colours if you need to?”
It takes a few seconds to register that he’s been asked a question, and Geralt forces his mouth to form words. “Yes Sir, Green,” he says, the words dragging over his tongue slowly.
Jaskier settles in his lap, planting his knees on either side of Geralt’s thighs, and gives him a slow stroke where he’s hard and aching. He’s only half aware his Dom’s hand had been covered in slick lubricant, until Jaskier raises on his knees, and reaches behind himself. The man in his lap leans to the side a little.
“Look at the window, Geralt,” he says, and only the fact that it’s an order, in that tone , makes it so it manages to pierce the slow, floating quality of his mind enough for him to instantly obey.
He looks at the window and sees their reflection in it, as Jaskier holds his erection steady and slowly lowers himself onto him. Geralt sees the way his own cock disappears into the slick heat of his Dom’s body, and can’t help the way his back arches with the pleasure of it, or the way he groans and pulls against the leather cuffs around his wrists and elbows.
He can see how Jaskier stretches out, and how the man throws his head back in pleasure in the reflection, but isn’t allowed to look upon his Dom’s face. “Please,” he grits out. “Please, Sir. Please, let me look at you.”
Jaskier pants as he starts to move over him, and Geralt’s voice breaks off in an incomprehensible sound of pleasure. “Alright, sweetheart. As long as you’re good and keep looking at me, either directly or in the window.”
Geralt knows words of obedience spill over his lips, but isn’t entirely aware of what he’s saying. He’s held in place with his arms bound behind the chair’s back, his Dom above him, sliding over him slickly, releasing his own pleasured sounds. He lets his eyes rove over Jaskier’s moving body, his skin smooth and shining slightly with the sweat he’s working up. He looks between them, and back to the windows where he can see the Dom fucking himself on his cock, taking his pleasure with his body. More than anything, he looks at Jaskier’s face.
It’s Geralt who gets close first, and the stilling of his body in an effort to hold himself back is signal enough to Jaskier. The Dom rides him harder, and he has to continuously remind himself to keep his eyes from falling closed as pleasure rages through him. He alternates between looking at Jaskier’s face and the reflection of their movements in the window. His bonds give him something to strain against, and then his Dom winds his hands in his hair, and pulls. The sharp pin pricks of pain along his scalp make him gasp, and he can’t help the way he begs.
“Not yet,” Jaskier orders sharply, and Geralt gasps for air as he nods his compliance.
—000—
Geralt is good . He’s so, so incredibly responsive, obedient, and just, good. Jaskier feels high with pleasure, drunk on the way the big man under him follows his directions. Drunk on the way his sub works so hard to obey, while his body craves something else entirely.
All of Geralt’s muscles are standing out under his skin with how tensely he holds himself, and Jaskier appreciates the view. The agent strains against his constraints and the muscles and sinews of his chest and shoulders bulge. Jaskier pulls his long white hair, and feels his sub’s cock jerk inside of him.
“Not yet,” he says sharply, and feels another stab of pleasure as the large man pants and nods. Tears are starting to leak from Geralt’s eyes, the gold of them definitely hazy now. He leans forward to give his sub a gentling kiss, and Geralt whimpers into his mouth as Jaskier keeps moving. With every downward thrust he gets closer, and he wonders if his sub will be able to obey his order not to come unless given permission.
“Look at me Geralt,” he says, stilling for a moment, waiting for his sub to make eye contact. “As long as you try, I’ll be very proud of you, is that clear?” he says, and makes his voice heavy with authority. Geralt twitches underneath him. “Verbal response, Jaskier orders sharply in an effort to pull the sub back up, just a little.
“Yes, Sir,” Geralt responds, and he sounds hoarse, broken.
“Colour?” he asks gently.
“Green,” Geralt responds immediately, and Jaskier is suffused by another wave of want.
He slowly starts to move again, and this time, aims directly for his own prostate. He wants to take his sub to the edge, but if at all possible, he wants to stop just before taking him over it, letting Geralt show how good he is.
The white haired man stares up at him, and slowly, Jaskier sees him let go entirely. The tension seems to bleed out of him, his large body going pliant, his cock a rigid line of heat in Jaskier’s ass. He strokes reverent hands over Geralt’s face, his throat and chest. “My good boy,” he murmurs, and hears his sub whimper softly.
When he’s just on the precipice, Jaskier wraps a hand around his own cock, and seats himself in Geralt’s lap fully. He only needs to stroke twice, looking down into his sub’s eyes, at his expression of pleasured agony and the way his mouth is slack with it. He circles his hips in a slow grind as he starts to come, and sees Geralt tremble in response.
His release stripes over the large man’s chest and throat, and Geralt groans every time another wave of pleasure makes Jaskier clench around him. When it finally ends, his sub is panting and sweaty under him, streaked with come, but still hard inside of him.
Jaskier reaches out to rub his thumb over a peaked nipple and circles his hips again, and Geralt twitches slightly.
“Please,” the large agent whispers, but remains submissively pliant between Jaskier’s legs.
“Good boy,” he says again, just to see the white haired man shiver. Then he clicks the remote he’d hidden away at the edge of the chair’s seat, and the plug inside of his sub buzzes to life.
Geralt cries out harshly and his back bows. His hips jerk, making his cock shift in Jaskier’s ass, and he shivers at the delicious overstimulation of it.
“This is the lowest setting, sweetheart,” Jaskier says gently, and he wouldn’t blame Geralt if he didn’t understand the words at all. “I’m going up three more clicks. After the third, you’re allowed to come whenever. You’re also allowed to move your hips, if you want,” he says.
Tears are leaking from his sub’s eyes, and Jaskier leans forward to kiss him softly as he clicks the remote. Geralt whines into the kiss, and Jaskier feels the shift of his hips under him. The large man doesn’t have a lot of leverage, not with his arms bound behind him, but he manages to fuck up into Jaskier in short jerks despite it, and it’s his turn to gasp breathlessly into Geralt’s mouth. The overstimulation against his prostate is just on this side of too much, and he can admit it’s more for himself than the man under him when he clicks the remote again.
He knows Geralt is too close when the big man abruptly stops his movement, and thinks they’re right there, right at the edge.
He clicks the remote again, for the third time, and his sub breaks the kiss by throwing his head back. Geralt whimpers and groans, and his hips twitch violently as he comes. Jaskier can feel his large cock jerk inside of him, some of the heat of his release spilling out, and pets and kisses Geralt through it, murmuring praise into his ears.
—000—
When he enters Vesemir’s office Eskel is already there. His handler claps a hand on his shoulder as Geralt seats himself next to him, and the DA leans forward to press his shoulder as well. Geralt smiles at both of them.
He hadn’t really expected to have his partner’s tirade all those months ago have much of an effect, but ever since then, Vesemir has been trying to be better about showing affection and respecting his boundaries. It isn’t perfect, but the effort is there, and Geralt appreciates it.
“We just debriefed my previous assignment on friday,” he says. “I hope there’s a good reason for me to be called in? I was supposed to have three weeks off.” He and Jaskier are supposed to fly out together with Ciri in fact, the first holiday with the three of them.
Eskel sighs, and rubs his face. “We know, Geralt. And if you decline we’ll respect that, but we thought you’d want to know.”
Vesemir folds his arms and nods at him from across the desk. “You’d not be on this assignment by yourself. We would work together with the FBI.”
As soon as the FBI is mentioned, Geralt’s stomach swoops. There’s only one case the DA has shared with the FBI, after all. “Nilfgaard?” he growls, his shoulders a rigid line.
Both men nod. “Unfortunately,” Vesemir says. “After the conviction of the Nilfgaard top last month, it seems that a cell has become active. It’s the same cell Fringilla belonged to. The woman you—”
“The woman I shot, after she nearly killed Jaskier. Twice,” Geralt responds stoically.
“That one, yes,” Eskel answers. “There are signs the cell has plans to break out Emhyr var Emreis and his most important lieutenants. We just don’t know how, or when, for that matter.”
Geralt growls low in his chest, dragging a hand through his hair. “Any indication it’s gonna happen within three weeks?”
“Well, no,” Vesemir answers, and Geralt rises from his seat.
“Good. Then my daughter, my partner and I are going to go enjoy our vacation first. I’m sure you’ll manage to keep shit from hitting the fan until I’m back. The combined sources of the DA and the FBI really should be able to manage that.”
Vesemir rises too, and circles his desk until he’s standing in front of Geralt. He meets his surrogate father’s steely grey eyes, and wonders what his response will be. To his surprise, Vesemir pulls him into a short, but strong hug. When they part the DA holds him by the shoulders, looking up at him.
“He really is good for you,” the man says gruffly.
It’s acceptance instead of a question, and Geralt smiles. “He really is,” he answers.
Eskel gets up too, and their embrace lasts a little longer. “Can we call you in later?” his handler asks.
Geralt nods. “If when I’m back from vacation you still need me, I’ll come in to discuss it,” he says.
Eskel hums thoughtfully. “Since we’re going to be working on this together with the FBI, what about if we need a hacker?”
Geralt raises an eyebrow and looks from Eskel to Vesemir. The district attorney doesn’t say anything, but looks distinctly interested. He shrugs his shoulders. “You’ll have to ask Jaskier,” he says.
“Would he come in together with you?” Vesemir asks.
Geralt smiles. “He certainly wouldn’t come in without me, and even then, he might prefer to work the feds’ side of things.”
That makes both men grimace slightly, and Geralt leaves the DA’s office filled with amusement, despite the troubling news he’s gotten. If they still need him in three weeks, he’ll hear from them. He might even consider talking to Jaskier if they ask.
For now, he has a plane to catch.