Don’t Let Go
Summary: Geralt comes back from a hunt, needing to fuck the succubus venom out of his system, despite the fact that Jaskier desperately needs to piss. He makes Jaskier hold it while he fucks him, even as Jaskier is crying with the need to let go—whether that’s his bladder, or his orgasm, or both.
Tags: Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex Pollen (kind of), Omorashi, Watersports, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia's Black Eyes, Large Cock, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Blow Jobs, Kissing, Biting, obligatory bath scene, Begging, Humiliation, Wetting, Aftercare
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Jaskier and Geralt had fucked before, of course, but never yet had Jaskier gotten used to just how fucking big Geralt was. At least he was an attentive lover, always making sure Jaskier was well-stretched before pushing inside. It was still a surprise every time, somehow, how much Jaskier could feel every inch of Geralt inside of him, pushing him almost to his limit.
And the orgasms were downright spectacular.
But maybe not right now, when Geralt had just finished a hunt, and was still dripping with gods-knew what, and was looking at Jaskier with that dark, predatory gaze that meant he wanted a fuck. Right now.
Jaskier gulped as Geralt stalked closer, traitorous cock stirring in his pants. Now was not the time—especially when he had been on his way to the privy before Geralt had stalked into the room.
“Geralt,” he greeted nervously. “How, er, how did it go?”
Geralt only stared at him with those depthless black eyes, and then walked closer, growling softly under his breath. Jaskier tried not to flinch as Geralt leaned in close, sniffing at his neck, gloved hands coming to clutch at his doublet.
And then the bastard bit him, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to bruise, for sure. Jaskier gasped, ignoring the way his cock hardened even further under the attention.
His head was spinning with sensation, the room suddenly too hot, as Geralt made his way down Jaskier’s neck, then dropped to his knees to nose at Jaskier’s clothed cock.
His cock, which, despite being rock hard and weeping precum, was still reminding him of another pressing need that Geralt had interrupted. “Geralt,” Jaskier gasped, pushing him away. Geralt let him, albeit reluctantly. “Not that I don’t love this—but—is this really the time?”
Geralt looked at him blankly, and with a hint of frustration. Oh, gods. Was something wrong? It was like Jaskier had been suddenly doused with a bucket of cold water. “Geralt,” he said firmly. “Did something happen on the hunt?”
Geralt growled, baring his teeth, and then, after a moment of silent staring between them, forced words out. “Succubus. Has—venom. Makes it—I have to—fuck.”
Jaskier pondered that for a moment. “Soooo… like an aphrodisiac?” he asked, and was rewarded with Geralt nodding furiously and diving for Jaskier’s clothes again. Jaskier let him, because as long as Geralt knew marginally what was going on, he was alright with it. Especially when his need was this potent.
Except— “Geralt,” Jaskier gasped, as his doublet was rapidly stripped off, followed closely by his chemise. “Wait.”
Geralt growled again, louder, but sat back on his heels.
“Just—give me a moment to go to the privy, and then I’m all yours—”
“No,” Geralt growled, and tackled Jaskier—thankfully onto the bed behind him, and he hit the mattress with a soft oof.
“Wh—What do you mean, no, get off, you brute—” Jaskier said, squirming underneath Geralt’s bulk, but he was hopelessly pinned. He didn’t think about how that thought made his stomach flip.
Geralt sucked another bite mark onto his neck. “Hold it.”
And fuck, but that was hot. “But—what if I can’t hold it?” he protested weakly.
“You will,” Geralt promised, voice deep and gravelly. Jaskier’s cock twitched.
Geralt waited for all of half a second for him to protest again, and when none was forthcoming, he returned to his mission to unclothe Jaskier as quickly as humanly possible. Or witcher-ly possible.
His trousers and pants soon joined his other clothes on the floor, and Jaskier managed to at least get Geralt out of his armor, which took care of most of the gore. He was relatively clean underneath, enough that Jaskier deemed it acceptable for Geralt to immediately press himself full-bodied against Jaskier, skin radiating heat.
And then Geralt was shifting downwards, mouth trailing along Jaskier’s body, mouthing at his neck, his chest, his waist, and then enveloping his sock in his hot, wet mouth. Jaskier shouted, his need suddenly that much greater.
He stuffed a fist into his mouth, biting down on his knuckles, as Geralt sucked his cock. All too soon, Jaskier felt his need rising—but whether it was to come or to piss, he didn’t know. He pushed weakly at Geralt’s forehead, begging silently for him to stop so that he could collect himself. Geralt pulled off with a wet pop, hungry eyes begging for more.
“I can’t,” Jaskier reprimanded him, “not unless you want this to be over quickly.”
Geralt grunted—disappointment, or acknowledgment?—and left his cock be, coming back up to capture Jaskier’s lips in a deep kiss.
It calmed Jaskier down enough that he didn’t feel right on the edge anymore. Geralt, meanwhile, was still as wound up as ever, humping the mattress between Jaskier’s legs, letting out small whines.
“Alright,” Jaskier gasped out, breaking the kiss. “Fuck me.”
Geralt growled, diving down, slinging Jaskier’s legs over his shoulders, bending him nearly in half. It put that much more pressure on his poor bladder, and he whined, though his cock was twitching in anticipation.
Geralt wasted no time in coating his fingers in slick, though he was gentle when he breached the tight ring of muscle. His hole was even tighter for how tense he was trying to hold on. Geralt, impatient, sank another finger inside, and Jaskier groaned at the stretch. He was used to it, with how often Geralt prepared him, but it was so much every single time.
Geralt pushed deeper, crooking his fingers just right—fuck, Jaskier saw stars as his fingers brushed against his prostate. He moaned like a whore, relaxing his muscles the tiniest bit—only for a dribble of piss to come streaming out of his cock. Mortified, face burning red, Jaskier’s hand shot down to wrap around his cock, clenching around the flow that desperately wanted to escape.
“I said hold it,” Geralt growled, nostrils flaring, pulling his fingers out of Jaskier to instead join his where they were wrapped around his cock. “Don’t want to ruin the bed, do you?”
Jaskier sobbed, once, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I can hold it,” he promised. “Please, I promise, fuck me!”
Geralt stroked his cock, just the once, and then reached down to line his cock up with Jaskier’s hole. And then he was pushing in, in, in, filling Jaskier up so completely, so fully, that he thought he might burst.
Jaskier threw his head back, eyes rolling back in his head, clutching desperately at his cock. Fuck, it felt like Geralt’s cock was nudging right up against his bladder, each powerful thrust sending jolts of pain and pleasure through him.
Geralt moaned, sinking his teeth into Jaskier’s neck once more, and picked up the pace. Jaskier was crying now, letting out little whining cries with each thrust, on the verge of letting go. Whether that was his orgasm or his bladder, he didn’t know.
“Mm—mm—mm—fuck,” Jaskier sobbed, as Geralt’s massive cock brushed against his prostate relentlessly, stretching his hole with every thrust. “Gonna—come—”
“Then come,” Geralt growled, thrusting faster. With a deep, guttural cry, he came, hot seed splashing inside of Jaskier, filling him up. Jaskier cried out and came too, ropes of come spilling over his chest, seemingly endless in their intensity.
Amidst the ecstasy, he felt Geralt pull out, followed by a rush of come leaking out of his hole. He lay there for a second, panting, before a different need made itself known.
“Fuck,” he moaned, struggling to his feet, hand clenched desperately around his cock, legs crossed.
He wasn’t going to make it all the way to the privy. He groaned, struggling not to let go right there, in the middle of the floor, where Geralt could see.
“Jaskier,” Geralt called from where he was lying on the bed. His eyes had returned to their normal color, the venom out of his system, though he was now wearing a devilish smile. “Let go.”
And fuck, that was all it took. He whimpered as hot piss burst forth, running down his legs, puddling humiliatingly beneath him. All he could do was stand there, legs wobbling, hand clenched uselessly around his streaming cock.
The relief he felt was undeniable, though, whatever the cost was. It felt like ages before the flow finally tapered off, leaving him wet and embarrassed, but lightheaded with his release.
“Fuck,” he whispered, looking down at his mess, but then Geralt was there, cupping his face in his hands.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he rumbled, sweeping Jaskier off of his unsteady legs, and placing him in the tub full of water. It had long since gone cold, but a quick Igni took care of that, and Jaskier basked as Geralt took care to wash him clean of the urine and the seed that coated his body.
By the time Geralt was finished, Jaskier was nearly asleep. Geralt walked him through drying off and climbing into bed, though Jaskier grumbled, but it was all worth it when Geralt slid into bed behind him, wrapping a large arm around him and pulling him back against his broad chest.
“Thank you,” Geralt murmured in his ear. “It wasn’t too much, was it?”
Jaskier yawned and shook his head. “No, ‘s good.”
He could hear the smile in Geralt’s voice as he responded. “Good. Sleep, Jaskier.”
And Jaskier did, slipping into pleasant dreams easily.