(this is steph) LESHEN JASKIER WRECKS ESKEL LESHEN JASKIER LESHEN JASKIER
;D i’m on my laptop so you get a snippet. this wip is very much “what it says on the tin”.
nsfw below the cut!
Jaskier – it has to be Jaskier – appears out of the trees with a rustle and the cracking of twigs. He’s shorter than Eskel is, but other than that, he looks exactly like Geralt and Lambert described. Beautiful golden-brown antlers covered in vines, flowers, and moss; luminous blue eyes; pale, green-tinted skin, and brown-green body hair; rough-furred, bark-like arms and legs; claws at his fingertips and hooves instead of feet, the same golden-brown as his antlers.
“I was told you’d be bigger,” Eskel blurts out. Jaskier laughs, fangs glinting in the dappled mid-afternoon light, and suddenly grows, nearly quadrupling in size, until he towers over Eskel, exactly as large as his brothers had described. Eskel’s medallion vibrates so hard it jumps against his chest.
“Oh.” Eskel breathes, cock twitching, and Jaskier laughs again. Just as suddenly as he’d grown, he shrinks once more, back to being about four, maybe five inches shorter than Eskel. “You can…change your size?”
“Yes,” Jaskier says, “though there’s an upper limit. That, what I just showed you, is the biggest I can be; how big I really am. But sometimes, it’s more convenient to be smaller.” Eskel notices for the first time that Jaskier’s voice does seem like an echo and a whisper all at once. The dichotomy of it makes him shiver slightly.
“Smaller, but not completely human?” Eskel asks.
Jaskier smirks. “Yes.” He steps a little closer, that scent wafting on a breeze toward Eskel, and his cock twitches again. “See, there’s something about you that Geralt told me….”
“What’s that?”
Jaskier drops to his knees in a single, graceful movement, and Eskel’s breath hitches. “You like horns,” Jaskier answers. “Tell me, do antlers measure up?”
Without even thinking, Eskel reaches out and grabs at the base of each antler, the velvet slightly prickly against his palms. Jaskier shudders at the grip, but relaxes into it, and Eskel tugs, just a little, to feel the way Jaskier follows the pull.
“Yes,” Eskel murmurs, half-moan, and Jaskier grins up at him. There’s a light touch at his knees, and then the feeling of Jaskier’s claws catching at the laces of Eskel’s breeches.
“Good,” Jaskier says, and then he’s tugging at the laces, pulling them away.
