Chapter Text
“What’s this then?”
“My Lord, we have brought - brought a gift from the Lords of Redania. With their compliments to the White Wolf.” The wagon, despite remaining still, reeks of human and fear . So strong Eskel can taste it on the back of his tongue. But there’s something else, beneath the fear, something trying to be hidden.
It makes Eskel walk towards the wagon door, the men giving him a wide berth, out of lunging range, it puts Eskel more on edge. He puts his hand on the door, ready to open it, pausing to listen inside the carriage. Breathing, heavy breathing that’s labored, like the person is exhausted from a fight.
With a last breath he opens the door, eyes slitting to adjust to the dark interior, and that smell he couldn’t place all but smacks him in the face. It’s arousal, not lust, definitely not lust, lust means the person is willing and consenting .
The man tied in the wagon is definitely not consenting to this.
He’s on his knees, not even on the plush seats, but instead on the floor, facing him. His body is covered in sweat from days if not weeks of being in that wagon, probably only let out to relieve himself judging by the lack of smell of bodily fluids. His hands are tied behind him with red rope, rope that goes up around his neck and then criss-crosses along his fit torso. His mouth is gagged with a gold... something. Eskel isn’t quite sure what it is, or how long it is. And at the base of the boys cock is a solid gold ring, locked and unlocked by probably the key hanging around the boys neck.
Despite that he’s wearing a practically sheer white dress, not enough to hide what lies beneath it, and definitely not enough to protect him from the mountain climate.
Red, gold, and white... Redanian colors .
There’s a crack, causing the boy to jump damn near out of his skin, it’s what finally makes Eskel realize the suffocating hold on the wagon door that’s caused it to crack under his grip. Eskel makes himself take a deep, deep breath, and count down from five.
When he speaks, it’s even and low and dripping with anger. “What. The fuck. Is this?”
The guard who’d spoken before is practically rattling in his armor, “T-tribute for th-the White Wolf... my Lord.”
“And why the fuck would King Vizimir think this would be appropriate tribute?” The boy shrinks under his burning gaze, but he’s all Eskel can look at right now; for if he looks at the soldiers he’s likely to slaughter them all.
Before any of the soldiers can answer, Lambert is calling to him from the gate. “What’s going on, Esk?” He and the others must’ve smelled his anger, felt his body taut like a bowstring, ready to release and kill.
“Restrain these guards.” Eskel speaks barely louder than whisper, but he knows the others have heard him. He can hear the movement behind him, slightly struggling, words being thrown and ordered.
He wills his gaze to soften on the boy, who’s still staring holes on the floor of the carriage. He stays exactly where he is, needing to let his voice relax the boy. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Then the man raises his face and Eskel’s heart damn-near breaks at the sight.
His eyes are a cornflower blue, shining with unshed tears as those that did shed cut tracks down his red, puffy face. Gods he really was a boy, he must’ve just come of age... within the last two years at the most. He stared at Eskel with a mixture of utter fear and hesitation, trying not to put hope in his seeming-savior.
“Let’s get you out of there,” Eskel says gently, slowly moving forward, giving the boy ample time to pull away, but he remains stock still, the fear keeping him frozen. Eskel lifts him easily, waiting for him to extend his legs, and Eskel can see the ugly red marks from kneeling for so long.
Eskel puts him down gently, but then follows him as his legs give out from under him, putting him on the ground. Eskel brings his hands to the gag, trying to find how it ties and working to get it off of him, but it’s then that the boy gives a muffled cry like he’s been hit and jerks away.
Eskel barely stops him from falling, carefully lifting him back up, “It’s alright. It’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Eskel decides to try for the ties, maybe he’d rather take off the gag himself, but the boy gives another cry and another attempt to get away from him.
It causes Eskel pause, watching him as he helps the boy right himself again. His eyes are practically begging for freedom, but every attempt at freedom is met with resistance.
“You know something,” He hears Lambert hiss at the guards. “I can fucking smell it on you. What is it?” There’s a whimper, Lambert is clearly taking the intimidation route to get information.
“H-he’s under an obedience spell.” One of the guards finally speaks out. “O-only the Wh-White Wolf can remove anything.” There’s a resounding growl. “I-it’s all in the note!” He points with his head to the seemingly-head of the guards. “He-he has the note!” The nearest Witcher, Coen, searches the man and snatches the note, extending it to Eskel.
Though just as Eskel is about to tear it open, the guard that had the letter speaks. “O-our orders were to put it in the hands of the White Wolf and no one else... It is for him to read only.”
Eyes turn to Eskel, waiting for the orders, their fate. Eskel looks back at the young man, who’s starting to shiver from the crisp autumn weather.
Well if they want the White Wolf to get this letter, then he will .
“Coen, tell Geralt we need him and the council in the main room.” No one else goes unsaid, the boy doesn’t need to go through any more humiliation.
Coen nods and hurries off, Eskel waits until he has disappeared behind the iron gates before giving the others a truly vicious smile. “Well, let’s not keep the White Wolf waiting.” The others answer in a snarl, hauling the guards to their feet and all but dragging them towards the keep.
Eskel turns back to the bound man, bringing his voice back to a soothing level. “It’s alright, no one here is going to hurt you. We’re going to get you inside and warmed up. Once we’ve dealt with your... escorts, Geralt will get all of that off of you.” He leans forward just a bit to level him with a serious look, “You have my word that no harm will come to you here.” Those blue eyes stare into his, emotions flashing through those eyes, trying to settle on whether he is friend or foe.
But finally something seems to steel them and he gives a nod, allowing Eskel to scoop him up and hold him close.
When he does there’s a strangled sort of cry from the boy, and Eskel is worried he’s hurt him, until that sudden smell of arousal hits him. Eskel tries to figure it out as he walks towards the keep, the boy seems rather too shocked and scared to be aroused by Eskel’s performance of strength, and that didn’t explain the arousal scent from when he first arrived.
His cock rests against his stomach, clearly hard and aching from the ring tight around the base, but there’s no other stimuli to cause such a reaction.
Then he starts climbing the stars, the slight jostling causing more whimpers from the man, Eskel nearly stops dead when he realizes. They’ve put something in him . Suddenly Eskel is much more aware of his movements, trying to keep his upper body as still as possible so to not jostle him.
They’re the last to enter the hall: Geralt, Yennefer, and Vesemir already there in their respective seats. Eyes turn to them the moment they enter, he watches as Geralt’s face goes from his usual indifference to confusion, recognition, and then a furious rage that’s hardly concealed.
Well for Geralt it’s hardly concealed. For those who don’t know him, it’s a simple twitch of his eyebrows and the slight lift of his lips.
“King Vizimir decided to send you a tribute .” Eskel speaks softly for the sake of the boy, who’s seemed to curl up against him, to hide from all the others. Shifting his hold slightly, he hands the letter off to the head-guard, sneering. “Go on then, fulfill your duty.” When the guard is hesitant to move, Lambert gives him a shove, making the man stumble slightly and quickly grab the letter. He walks to Geralt like he is walking to the gallows, which isn’t all too different, depending on how this goes.
He extends the letter with a deep bow, Geralt all but rips it from his hands and gives a vicious growl, the man stumbles back and falls on his ass.
It’s more satisfying than it has any right being.
Eskel shifts the boy so he’s more comfortable, he doesn’t want to set the boy down, not with that still inside him.
“We send one Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, to serve the White Wolf and all his needs.” There was no doubt what they thought those deeds would be. Geralt’s voice trails off the further he reads the letter, Yennefer and Vesemir, who’ve been reading over Geralt’s shoulder, go their own shade of red in anger, Eskel can feel the magic curling on the mage’s fingertips.
Geralt stands abruptly, focused on the Viscount as he descends the steps, Eskel steps forward, meeting him halfway. The heartbeat kicks up, fear filling the hall again, it makes Geralt hesitate.
“Would you permit me to remove the gag?” His voice is low, gentle, staying exactly where he stood at arms length. Once the words left his mouth the Viscounts shoulders relaxed slightly, heartbeat slowing, and the scent of fear resided... slightly.
But still Geralt did not move until he received a jerky nod, closing the gap in two strides, hands carefully examining the leather around his jaw. It appears to clasp on the back, and Eskel is ready to help tilt his head forward, so Geralt could get that horrendous thing off his face. But Geralt sucks in a breath, something catching his attention, his hands have frozen just in front of the man.
Eskel can only watch, first in confusion, then in absolute horror, as Geralt grabs the golden cylinder and pulls. And keeps pulling .
What emerges is an absolutely crude carving of a cock, and the boy seems to suck in his first real breath since it was shoved down his throat. He coughs and gags, Geralt moves so Eskel can tilt him forward, letting the spittle and cum dribble out of his mouth.
Now that he’s leaned forward, Geralt is quick to unclasp the gag and take out the golden ring that was shoved into his mouth, keeping him open, keeping him ready .
His coughs get louder and uglier now, sobs bubbling out of him, and Eskel gently rubs his surely sore jaw, trying to ease some of the pain.
No one speaks for a while, letting Julian suck in much needed air.
“I’m going to set you down,” Eskel whispers in his ear. “That way we can get those ropes off of you.” A shaky nod, Eskel kneels to the ground, bringing Julian with him. He settles him on his knees again, but tries to take most of his weight so that his abused knees could get a rest.
Geralt follows them and comes behind Eskel, he’s quick to saw off the red ropes and untie the knots around his neck, gently getting the ropes off him.
Then Geralt is kneeling before them both, his hands resting on his thighs. “May I take that key and... hm,” the boy shutters another sob, the humiliation burning through him, but he shakes his head.
“T-to s-s-sensit..” He breaks down in another sob, but it’s enough for his point to get across.
“Alright,” Geralt nods, not moving, simply sitting with him. However, Geralt looks behind him, towards the guards, and his face goes hard again. “Julian,” the name makes him raise his head, revealing his fresh tears. “These men who... brought you here. Are there any who hurt you? And would you like for their punishment to be carried out?” There’s sharp breaths behind Eskel, which confirmed his already suspicion that some of them had abused the boy.
Julian seems confused, his voice wavering. “T-the King wi-ll n-not li-ke that.”
“That is not what I asked,” Geralt corrected quickly. “Nor what I am concerned about. If any of these men hurt you, whether in my lands or not, their deeds should not go unpunished. You deserve to have justice, but I will not carry out the deed if you do not wish it.” Julian seems to contemplate some more, his breathing luckily evening out, furthering to calm his erratic heart.
Suddenly Julian tenses, and Eskel realizes he’s trying to stand. Fuck that thing’s still in him . Eskel helps him up, he can hear the whimpers as whatever’s inside him shift and give him pleasure he has been tortured with.
Eskel had been so focused on the Viscount he hadn’t noticed Aubry come behind him, extending his cloak, an offering for some sort of decency and privacy. Julian doesn’t seem phased by him, so Aubry gently brings the dark cloak over his shoulders and settles it in front of him, letting it cover his entire body.
Instead his focus is purely on the guards still kneeling, cowering from his gaze and the Witchers behind them. He seems to study each of them for a moment, his piercing blue gaze roaming over each body, and he seems to exude the power a Viscount should have despite his horrid appearance and slumped shoulders.
Then he’s pointing, first at a guard crying pitifully before Ivo, then one before Kiyan, and finally the head of the guards before Lambert.
Three out of seven, Eskel honestly expected more.
“They are the three who hurt you?” Geralt, now at the man's other side, questioned.
“Yes.” Julian’s voice is raw, in desperate need of water.
Eskel shifts his hold on him. “I can bring you to Triss so she can look over your injuries, the White Wolf will deal with them-”
“No.” Julian’s voice is stone, gravel that’s paved on a mountain. “I want to watch. Don’t think I’ll believe it otherwise.” It’s enough for Geralt, he nods to the Witchers behind each man, making them step forward and shoved harshly back to their knees.
Geralt unsheathes his silver sword, first approaching the sobbing man.
“Ple-” his cry of mercy was cut short with Geralt’s swing of his sword, swiftly severing the head.
He goes to the next one, who is babbling nonstop. “He’s lying! I-I never touched the man! I swea-” He too was cut off with his death.
Finally he approaches the last one, the leader, who stares Julian down with a look that could only be described as venomous. He says nothing before his head is separated from his body.
“As for the rest of you,” Geralt faces the remaining Redanians, his sword still dripping with blood. “You will return to King Vizimir and inform him what these men had done and what their decisions had led them to. You will also inform him that if he ever disrespects me like this again, I will level Tretogor and hang his body from the city walls.” They all nod frantically, faces varying shades of white. “Good. Now leave .” The Witchers behind them can barely move out of the way fast enough as they scramble and run out of the hall.
There’s another beat of silence, Geralt speaks as he stares at the retreating figures. “Eskel, get him to Triss. Then have Jan set up a room and clothing for him.” As if Eskel needed to be told, but he nods anyways, putting a (hopefully) comforting hand on the slim back.
“Would you prefer to walk or have me carry you? Whatever you think is best.” Julian doesn’t speak, only presses himself against Eskel, making his answer clear enough.
He whimpers again as he’s lifted, Eskel can see the tension in Geralt’s shoulders get ever tighter as he smells the arousal, but he still doesn’t turn as Eskel carefully carries the Viscount from the bloodied hall.
Someone must have informed Triss of their arrival, for she was already gathering human-safe healing balms and potions and bandages when they entered her stillroom.
“Set him on the bed,” she keeps her voice light and cheerful, making sure to always have that smile on her face.
Julian shifts in his arms, Eskel sighs. “Not yet... he’s... they put something in him.”
“Put something... Oh...” Triss straightens, and suddenly that cheerful smile falters into something of a snarl, fists tight against her side.
“Then get him laying on his front.” She now orders, “Darling, can you tell me your name?”
As Eskel arranges the boy on the bed, he answers. “Julian Alfred Pankratz... V-Viscount de Lettenhove.”
Triss comes into his field of vision, her smile as returned like nothing had happened, kneeling so she could meet his eyes. “A pleasure to meet you, Julian. My name is Triss, I’m the main healer here in Kaer Morhen. Would you like Eskel to stay? There is no right or wrong answer, this is simply what you prefer.” Julian worries his lip, but eventually nods. “Alright, I’m going to work on... removing the item. I will go as slow as you want and you have to but say the word and I shall stop. Okay?” Another nod, albeit shakier.
Triss stands and goes behind him, beginning to lift the cloak and white cloth so she has access. Eskel sits in the chair by the bed, trying to find anyway to comfort him during this process. To distract him.
“Julian Alfred Pankratz,” he says slowly. “That’s quite the mouthful.”
“I-I also call myself Jaskier.” He mutters out, then hisses as Triss applies oil to help with lubrication.
Eskel forms a soft smile, “Jaskier, huh? It suits you.” He shifts again, how the fuck are you supposed to comfort a man through a process like this? “You’ll probably rest for several days, recover from the trip. But after that you’ll be free to... pretty much do whatever you please.” There’s a keening moan, Triss has begun slowly and carefully pulling out the object.
“Whether you want to stay here or start a new life in the Wolflands will be completely up to you... Did you train in anything outside of being a Viscount?”
It takes Jaskier a couple of tries, unable to find his voice as his moans grew. “O-Oxenfurt... I gr-graduated-ah! Graduated as Master of th-the Seven Liberal Arts.” He holds onto the sheets beneath him with a white-knuckled grip. “I-I wanted to be a-a bard.”
“You can still be a bard, Jaskier.” Eskel promises. “We’ll get you the tools you need and you can travel the Wolflands as a traveling bard. Or even stay here as a court bard, depending on your desire.”
He nods and then his body sags in relief as Triss pulls the item out of him. It is similar to the carved cock shoved down his throat, a flared base to keep it locked in place, but made of carefully carved and polished wood instead of pure gold.
The two let him rest for a moment, regaining his breath, watching fresh tears shed.Eskel slowly comes forward and helps Jaskier sit at the edge of the bed, Triss with a large cup of cold water at the ready.
The boy goes through two full cups before he fully seems hydrated, Eskel reaches for the key hanging around his neck.
Only for Jaskier to recoil away like before, “C-can’t! Has... has to be the Wh-White Wolf, remember?”
Eskel frowns, “But Triss was able to remove that?”
Jaskier makes himself impossibly smaller, “Th-that was placed by the guards... They figured out they could put things in me, just couldn’t take what was already there out.” Eskel wishes Geralt had been slower with their deaths, or Gods that he’d tossed one of them to Eskel so he could shred them apart.
“Alright... I’ll-I’ll get Geralt.” He stands, giving a nod to Triss who nods back and approaches Jaskier with the healing balm.
Eskel finds Geralt still in the main hall, growling his words more than speaking them to Yennefer and Vesemir. They’re discussing what action should be taken against Vizimir, if any at all.
Eskel is surprised he’s not gathering men ready to take the rest of Redania already.
“Wolf,” He calls gently, the three lift their heads at his approach, Geralt fully turning towards him with unmistakable worry in those golden eyes. “We need you in the stillroom. You’ve got to ah... get that ring off him.” It causes Geralt to growl again, but blissfully he nods and begins walking.
“We should have someone stationed as a guard for Julian, might make him feel safer.” Geralt says over his shoulder, not breaking in stride.
“He goes by Jaskier.” That is what stops him for a moment, only enough to nod to his right hand, his closest friend, and continue.
~~~
Jaskier is still seated at the edge of the bed when the gentle knock comes, then the White Wolf is entering the room with his intimidating size that takes damn near the entire door frame. Yet despite that, like how he was in the hall, his face is so soft and gentle Jaskier considers it truly un-fucking-fair. He looks at him, not as a piece of meat at the market, like the others had hoped , but as almost a wounded animal, wanting to take care of him.
“Hello Jaskier,” he greets with that deep voice that sends shivers down Jaskier’s traitorous body. “Would you allow me to get that,” he gestures towards his aching cock. “Off of you?” Jaskier nods quickly, fuck it’s so painful.
The Warlord nods to Triss, and the woman gives him a gentle smile and slips out the door. Jaskier feels his panic rise, and the White Wolf must as well, for he turns. “I can bring her back if you'd like, I thought you’d like the privacy.” And oh what a thoughtful man, his sincerity makes Jaskier relax as he realizes yes he would like the privacy as the White Wolf is getting this horrid thing off his weeping cock.
The White Wolf approaches the bed, noting the empty cup, taking a moment to fill it once again and set it within reaching distance of Jaskier.
Geralt is so painfully gentle when he unlocks the ring, his touch barely there, but it still causes Jaskier to sob. When the ring is finally finally unlocked and falls to the bed he releases another sob from relief, but relief that just won’t fucking finish .
“The letter,” Geralt speaks slowly, not looking at anything but the wall ahead of him. “It said they gave you a potion that... you wouldn’t be able to...”
“To pleasure myself, yes.” Jaskier nodded, then added with a sick laugh. “I believe they also added the instructions on how to make that potion yourself, so I could have it again.” And again and again and again.
“We won’t be doing that,” Geralt growled out, Jaskier hated how it sended shivers down his spine. “I’ve already burned the damn thing, but... is it still...”
“Yes,” Jaskier sobs, equal parts frustration and humiliation. “I-it fucking hurts . They-they would tease and I couldn’t -” he wraps his arms around himself, pulling the cloak closer, letting it be a shield to the outside world.
“I’m sorry,” Geralt truly couldn’t think of anything else to say. Nothing to comfort him. Unless... “I could... No, no, nevermind.” He shakes his head, berating himself, he had no right-
“Please,” Jaskier’s desperate voice made him turn, making him lock eyes with the blue gems for eyes that took his breath away. “Please.” He said it again, quieter, shrinking from the gaze.
“I will not take advantage of you,” Geralt couldn’t do that to him, not after everything he’s been through.
But Jaskier shoots a hand out and holds his own, and Melitele it’s soft with just the right amount of callous at the fingertips. “You’re not! I am asking, I will beg if you want me to, just please .”
Geralt squeezes the hand gently, holding it now with both of his, fully encompassing it. “Okay. Okay, Jaskier. But I need you to breathe for me, okay? In and out... good, just like that.” He guides the Viscount through his breathing, gently running his hand up and down his arm soothingly, only stopping to bring the water back to him so he could drink.
When the cup was empty, Geralt put it aside, then slowly moved them up the bed, giving Jaskier room as he frantically shed the cloak and sheer garment, giving Geralt full view of his aching red cock.
“How do you...?”
“I don’t care,” Jaskier was trying so hard to remain relaxed. “Just... don’t restrain me, please.” Geralt nodded, finding the oil Triss had used earlier and dropped a dollop onto his palm, rubbing it between his hands to spread it and warm it up. He sits at the edge of the bed, reaching over carefully, taking the hot cock carefully in his hand, and there’s a dreadful sob.
Geralt remains as gentle as possible, making sure to only touch him where he’s stroking him, trying to get him relaxed and over that edge.
“Relax, Jaskier.” He says gently. “You need to relax.”
“Hurts!” Jaskier cries out. “T-to painful!” Fuck , Geralt hisses silently, there’s no way he’ll be able to finish when he’s this tense and in this much pain. Geralt hums deeply, he realizes what he must do.
“Just relax, Jaskier, it’s okay. You’re safe.” He moves, keeping a hand gentle around the prick as he uses his other hand to lift Jaskier and settle behind him, legs bracketing him. He makes sure not to restrain him, allowing him plenty movement, but with one hand still on his prick he uses the other to gently caress his side, letting the roaming touches distract Jaskier from his ministrations on his cock.
“That’s it, deep breaths.” He whispers in his ear, that free hand coming up to his peaking nipples, gently tweaking and teasing, relishing in the soft and high-pitched moans he gets in response. It doesn’t take long after that, with Geralt distracting him and allowing Jaskier to thrust his hips up frantically into his closed fist, letting him take the lead.
Jaskier comes in a shout, shooting ropes all the way up to his neck, body spasming in pleasure. Geralt pumps him through it for several minutes, waiting until the human laid boneless atop of him, shivering from the sensations.
“There you go,” Geralt soothes, hearing Jaskier’s heartbeat settle into a deep rhythm as he sleeps. Jaskier doesn’t so much as twitch as Geralt moves to stand, settling Jaskier on the bed, using a clean rag to wipe up the mess, and tucks him into the quilt.