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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 2 years

Text

I look for the songs in the dark

My third fic for @witchersummercamp is up! You can find it below or here on AO3!

Prompt: Wet

Relationship: Jaskier/Yennefer

Rating: E

Words: 6K

Warnings: explicit smut; tentacle sex; some light bondage

Summary: While waiting to reunite with Geralt, Jaskier is kidnapped and left to the local sea monster as a human sacrifice. But when he’s saved from a watery grave by a beautiful sea witch, he has several ideas for how he can show his gratitude.

***

“Now, see here,” Jaskier says as one of his kidnappers binds his ankles together. “I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding.”

“It’s nothing personal, lad.” The man tying him up, a kindly-looking older gentleman who looks like he should be offering Jaskier candy, not potentially murdering him, says. “But the sea god needs his pound of flesh every Midsummer, or he starts bringing down our fishing boats and snatching our children from the shore.”

“Last year, we had to give him my sister, Iris.” The second man, who Jaskier recognizes as the husband of the pleasant barmaid—who Jaskier didn’t even try to bed, for fuck’s sake—shakes his head. “We were fortunate to have a stranger pass through this year so we don't lose one of our own.”

“Sea god?” Jaskier swallows hard. “I suppose he’s not a friendly sort of god, who blesses babies and holds orgies?”

A foolish question, he knows. Friendly gods don’t take people’s children.

“You’re making a mistake,” he says. “I was planning on meeting my friend, Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, in your lovely little town tomorrow. If he arrives and finds me missing, he’s going to have questions. What do you plan to tell him? Because let me tell you, he’ll be very cross when he finds out you threw me to a sea god. He’s not a man you want to make angry.”

“We’ll tell him you went for a walk and never came back.” The barmaid’s husband shrugs. “Happens all the time to people from inland. They go for a swim in the calmest part of the sea, not realizing it’s a riptide, or they underestimate how slippery the rocks will be and plunge off a cliff.”

“I’m from Kerack.” Jaskier tugs at the ropes binding his arms to the rock behind him, but the ropes are thick and sturdy and the knots well tied. “I’m hardly some inlander who has never seen the sea before. And witchers can tell when you’re lying. Your heartbeats will give it away.”

The two men exchange anxious looks.

“A witcher’s wrath is better than the sea god’s,” the barmaid’s husband says, though he sounds far from certain. “His wrath will come down on us, not our children.”

Jaskier rarely gets into trouble that he can’t talk himself out of. When he does, Geralt is almost always there to either use his swords or intimidation to extract Jaskier from the situation. But Geralt is probably still miles away, traveling towards the coast with no clue that Jaskier won’t be there to meet him.

“Don’t fuck anyone you shouldn’t,” he told Jaskier before they parted ways last month so Jaskier could travel to a string of music festivals while Geralt was busy doing witchery things. “Or, don’t fuck anyone at all, since you never seem to fuck anyone you should.”

“Jealous, darling?” Jaskier batted his eyelashes up at him.

Geralt gave him an exasperated look. “Just don’t want to meet you next month to find you tarred and feathered.”

“You make it sound like I get myself in trouble all the time, Geralt.”

“Hm. Sometimes, you get me in trouble.”

“Geralt, I would never.” Jaskier put his hand over his heart in mock offense. “Your accusations wound me. Wound me.”

It wasn’t a very good last conversation to have with his dearest friend, the man Jaskier has been secretly pining over for years now. Had Jaskier known he would end up a human sacrifice before their reunion, he would have at least told Geralt how he feels.

“Please.” His voice cracks a little. “Geralt can help you. He’ll kill your sea god for you before he takes any more of your children.”

The older man shakes his head, not meeting Jaskier’s eyes. “When I was a lad, our elders tried that. The sea god killed the witcher and brought down every fishing boat that left our docks that summer. Half the village either drowned or starved.”

“Geralt can do it. At least let him try. He’ll even do it for free if you let me live.”

“It’s too risky, lad.” The older man turns away. “For what it’s worth, it will be quick. We would drug you so you don’t feel a thing, but he doesn’t like that.”

That doesn’t reassure Jaskier. Not at all. He shouts after the men—offering pleas and when the pleas don’t work, threats—but they don’t look back. They leave Jaskier bound to a rock at the edge of the sea to await his fate.

***

The day is long and by the time the sun starts to set, Jaskier has moved past the mortal terror of imminent death to a kind of anxious boredom. He tried screaming for help for a while, until he had to admit to himself that no one was going to answer. Struggling against his bonds was equally fruitless; if anyone knows how to tie a good knot, it's fishermen. He sang all his favorite ballads, but they all reminded him of Geralt and all the things he never said, which left him too morose to continue. He chatted with the seagulls who came to inspect the strange new addition to the local landscape, but they lost interest in him when they saw he had no food to steal.

As the sun sinks below the waves, Jaskier shivers. It was a blazingly hot day and the sweat that had his doublet clinging to him earlier now leaves him chilled to the bone. His skin feels utterly scorched; he’s probably red as a tomato. It was thoughtful of the villagers to cook the sea god’s dinner for him, he thinks a little hysterically. No wonder the beast chose this village to plague. You just don’t find that kind of service in most places.

The water below him is inky dark in the growing dusk. When it starts to ripple, Jaskier hopes to all the gods that it’s just the tide or a trick of the light.

It’s not the tide and it’s not a trick.

The head that emerges from the water would look human, if humans had skin so translucent that you could make out the muscles and veins underneath. A mouth full of razor sharp teeth opens in a hideous pantomime of a smile while glowing, ice blue eyes watch Jaskier hungrily. As it rises, Jaskier sees that it has a human-like upper body, with arms corded with muscle and webbed hands, but a bottom half that resembles that of a serpent.

Through his shock and horror, Jaskier finds his voice. “Geralt!” he screams as he struggles against the ropes binding him. “Geralt, help!”

Logically, he knows that Geralt is still a day’s ride away, probably camping for the night after a long day of travel. But Geralt always comes when Jaskier calls for him and some irrational, childish instinct tells Jaskier that his friend will materialize between him and the danger, like he always does.

But Geralt doesn’t appear and the so-called sea god makes his way towards Jaskier, grin growing wider. Something tells Jaskier that the monster is taking his time, like he’s enjoying his prey’s fear.

“Please, Geralt!” Jaskier tries to shrink away, but there’s nowhere to go with the rock at his back. “Someone help me!”

The sea god reaches for him and Jaskier closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to see what comes next.

There’s a splash, a wordless shriek, and a horrible crunch. Jaskier’s eyes snap open in time to see those unearthly pale eyes bugging out of the sea god’s face, the mouth agape in what looks like shock. Something long and dark is wrapped around the beast’s throat. It takes Jaskier a moment to realize that it’s a tentacle. As the tentacle releases the sea god, Jaskier sees that his head is hanging at an angle that’s all wrong, his neck clearly broken. The sea god’s corpse sinks below the water.

Jaskier wonders what’s strong enough to kill a god and then realizes with a jolt of terror that he’s about to find out.

The water ripples and Jaskier braces himself for whatever monstrosity is about to rise from the sea. But instead of another translucent-skinned beast, the face that appears is that of a human woman. Or at least, she would look human if not for violet eyes, which glow with the same unearthly light as the sea god’s. As she rises from the water, Jaskier sees that she has the torso of a human woman. But instead of legs, she has a mass of tentacles the same inky black as her hair.

The not-a-woman blinks at him, wearing an expression that might be exasperation. “For fuck’s sake,” she says and he sees that her mouth is full of sharp little teeth. “Humans.”

Jaskier has spent nearly a decade traveling with a witcher. He prides himself on his steady head in a crisis and his stalwart nature in the face of imminent death.

So he does the only sensible thing when faced with a needle-toothed, tentacled not-a-woman who may be about to devour him. He faints dead away.

***

When Jaskier wakes, the first thing he’s aware of is that he’s warm. Not the scorching heat of being tied up in the sun, but a pleasant coziness, like he’s wrapped up in blankets in front of the hearth. The second thing he notices is that he’s lying on a hard, smooth surface. His eyes open slowly and he has to wait a moment for his vision to focus. The first thing he sees is the ice blue eyes of the sea god, staring blankly at him. The monster is lying a few feet away, a cavernous hole in his chest.

Jaskier shrieks and flails backwards. The next thing he knows, he’s plunging into the water, which is as surprisingly warm as the air. He knows a moment of utter panic before something wraps around his waist and hauls him out of the water, back onto the ledge. He’s relieved, until he looks down and sees that the thing wrapped around him is a tentacle and he’s naked, all his vulnerable bits out in the open. He opens his mouth to scream again.

“If you keep screaming, I will let you drown.”

Jaskier snaps his mouth shut and looks up to see the violet-eyed sea creature watching him from the other side of the cave.The cave is circular, with rune-covered walls that glow faintly with magic and a ceiling that opens up to show the starry sky and the thin crescent moon. He’s currently sitting on the ledge that runs around the perimeter of the cave, his clothes drying a few feet away. The rest of the cave is underwater.

The sea creature—Jaskier keeps wanting to call her a mermaid, but nothing about her seems reminiscent of the sweet, golden haired maidens of his fairy stories—is submerged up to her waist in the water on the other side of the cave, mashing something with a mortar and pestle. With her tentacles submerged, she almost looks human and Jaskier can let himself pretend that he didn’t see her snap a sea god’s neck easily and that he isn’t wondering if he’ll be next.

“Are you going to kill me?” He aims for breezy nonchalance and falls several miles short.

She turns away from him, back to the mortar and pestle. “That would make saving your life a waste of my time.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Absolutely nothing.” She jerks her thumb at the dead sea god. “I wanted him.”

Jaskier doesn’t look at the corpse. “What would you want with a sea god?”

“Is that what he told those humans he was?” She laughs, though there’s not much humor in it. “He’s no god. He’s just a merman, albeit a rare kind. They usually live in the deep, deep sea, but this one developed a taste for human flesh and traveled to the shallows to find it. Fortunately for me, since I needed his heart.”

Jaskier discovers that he really doesn’t want to know what she’s mixing in that bowl. “Well, I thank you for saving my life, my lady.”

“Saving your life wasn’t my goal. I was there for the merman. Once I’d killed him, I couldn’t just leave you tied to a rock. A shark or a siren could have gotten you.” She sounds faintly chagrined and Jaskier gets the sense that she probably would have liked to leave him tied to a rock, but her conscience got the better of her.

Despite the fear still gnawing at him, Jaskier’s lips twitch. “Well, whatever your motives, my life is still saved, so you have my thanks.”

She turns back to him and despite himself, Jaskier swallows. He was too terrified before to properly appreciate how beautiful she is, but gods is she lovely. He does his best not to stare at her admittedly astonishing breasts as he says, “I’m Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, also known as Jaskier the Bard.”

“Yennefer of Vengerberg,” she says.

Vengerberg is in Aedirn, a landlocked kingdom far from the sea. Jaskier has questions, but isn’t sure enough that she won’t kill him to ask any of them. “May I ask what you wanted with a false sea god’s heart?”

“A spell,” she says. While her attention is on him, two of her tentacles rise from the water and resume mashing the concoction. “One that I’ve spent years gathering all the ingredients for.”

Jaskier swallows. “You’re a witch.”

“Of a sort.”

Jaskier has encountered a handful of witches in his travels with Geralt. Save for a few friendly healers, most of their encounters ended badly. “And the sea god’s heart was the only one you needed?”

She snorts. “I have no plans for your heart or any other part of you. I didn’t want to send you back to the village, lest they try to sacrifice you to something else. You said your friend, the witcher, was meeting you?”

“Yes, he—” Jaskier breaks off. “How do you know about Geralt?”

“I heard you telling the seagulls about him.”

“But that was hours before you rescued me. Wait, did you lurk all day, waiting for the merman to show himself?”

Yennefer lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “It was my one chance to capture one of his kind.”

“Did you use me as bait?” Jaskier demands, horrified.

“I was fairly sure I could get to you before he killed you.”

“I was terrified!”

“So you told the seagulls,” she says dryly. “At length.”

“I had a lot of words to get out before I met my grisly end!”

“So you did.” Her lips twitch into a little smirk. “In the morning, I’ll bring you to land so you can reunite with your witcher. I imagine his presence will dissuade the townspeople from finding some other beast to try and feed you to.”

That cools Jaskier’s outrage. It’s hard to stay angry at the woman who saved him from what would have been an undoubtedly hideous death. Especially when she looks like that. His eyes are drawn to the motion of her tentacles as they stir the mortar and pestle. At their tips, they appear to be about the width of two of Jaskier’s fingers, thickening to be about the width of his wrist. He wonders how much thicker they get the farther up they go and swallows hard at the thought.

“I grew up in Kerack,” he says, voice a little strangled. “And I’ve traveled with a witcher for over a decade. I’ve met my share of mer creatures, but never anything quite like you.”

Her lips curl into an enigmatic little smile. “That’s because I wasn’t born this way. This is a spell.”

Jaskier perks up at that. “A spell? What happened? Were you enchanted by an evil fairy? Did you try and break into a cursed tomb and this was your punishment? Did a full moon ritual go badly awry?”

With each word he says, one of her eyebrows arches higher and higher. “You have quite the imagination.”

“I’m a bard,” he says, a little apologetically.

“That explains all the singing to the seagulls.”

“Ah.” Jaskier can’t help but preen a little. “Hear anything you like?”

“No,” Yennefer says and Jaskier wonders if he really needs to be grateful just because she saved his life. Geralt has saved his life loads of times; she’s not special. “When I was a student at Aretuza, there was a mage who took a dislike to me. He hates elves, you see, and I’m a quarter elf. He tried to have me sent to a southern court where I would languish. When that failed, he tried to turn me into an eel to make me disappear. I tried to defend myself and I’m not sure what happened, because the next thing I knew, I woke up and…” She gestures to herself.

“Fascinating,” Jaskier breathes and then remembers himself. “I mean, I’m terribly sorry that happened to you, how dreadful.”

Yennefer snorts inelegantly.

“But now you have your cure, right?” Jaskier gestures to the dead sea god.

“So I hope,” Yennefer says. “I’ll know by morning.”

“How long have you been like this?”

“I’m not sure.” Sadness flickers across her expression, before she seems to catch it and smooths her expression into impassivity. “What year is it?”

“1250.”

“Forty years, then.” She glances away. “I was worried it had been centuries. Everything blurs together after a while.”

“Have you been alone in this cave all this time?” Jaskier can’t imagine it. He can hardly be alone for an hour before he starts to lose his mind.

“Not always this cave.” Yennefer’s lips twist wryly. “I move around. I just relocated here a few weeks ago to wait for the merman’s arrival.”

“It’s nice.” Jaskier glances around. “Very homey for a cave.”

“I try,” Yennefer says. “Though gods, I can’t tell you how glad I’ll be to sleep in a proper bed again. I never adapted to the cold like most merfolk do.”

Jaskier runs a hand through the warm water. “Well, I appreciate that. I detest the cold.” He studies her face. “I’m sure it will be strange waking up tomorrow and having legs.”

“Perhaps.” She glances down at herself. “But I had legs for eighteen years. I’ll adjust soon enough.”

Jaskier has more questions, but a jaw-cracking yawn interrupts him.

“Rest,” Yennefer says, almost kindly. “You had a trying day, what with all the conversations with seagulls.”

“The seagulls were fascinating conversational partners, I’ll have you know.” Jaskier grabs his drying doublet and balls it up to use as a pillow. It’s not the most comfortable thing, but neither is sleeping on the hard stone. “You could learn a thing or two from them.”

He wonders for a moment if he’s offended her, but she only tilts her head back and laughs. It probably should be an alarming sight, what with the teeth. Instead, it’s surprisingly lovely. Jaskier drifts off to sleep with a smile on his face.

***

When Jaskier wakes up again, the moon has sunk out of sight and the sea god’s corpse is gone. He has a horrified moment of wondering if the monster came back to life and is coming after him, but a glance around confirms that Yennefer is sitting on the other side of the cave and not fighting to the death with a horrible merman from the depths of the sea.

He almost calls out, but Yennefer looks deep in thought. She’s perched on the ledge, her tentacles spread out in front of her, tracing patterns in the water. Seeing her fully out of the water, he can tell that her tentacles become thicker as they get closer to her body. At their base, each one is as thick as Geralt’s thighs. He swallows hard.

“Will you miss them?” he asks without thinking.

Yennefer doesn’t seem surprised to see him awake. “I think I might, which is foolish of me. I’ve spent forty years trying to get rid of them.”

“Can I touch one?”

Yennefer arches an eyebrow at him.

Jaskier would like to find whatever deep, dark part of the sea the merman was from and hide there. “Unless that’s a terribly personal thing? I’m sorry, I don’t know the proper tentacle etiquette. I’ll just—”

“Yes, Jaskier, you can touch one.”

He tries not to look too eager as he swims across the cave to her. Yennefer doesn’t move as he approaches, watching him with a strange look on her face. He reaches out one finger and runs it over the tip of one tentacle, surprised when it elicits a shiver from her. The tentacle is silky soft and a little slippery. He expects it to be cold, like a fish, but it’s as warm as a human body. He strokes it again and glances up, gratified when he sees that she’s looking at him intently, lips slightly parted.

“Are they sensitive?” he asks.

“Very.” Her voice is just a touch hoarse. “I will miss that about them. They had their… uses.”

Jaskier’s tongue darts out over his lip. “Perhaps you could take advantage of them one more time? You did save my life. It’s the least I can do.”

She gives him an incredulous look. “And that’s why you want it? Because you think you owe me?”

“Not at all,” Jaskier says quickly. “I want you because you’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen in my life and because in truth, there’s nothing I like more than getting railed by a beautiful woman. I’ve just never been railed by a beautiful woman with tentacles before. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Of course, if you’re not interested, please say the word and I’ll keep my hands to myself and we can never speak of this again.”

Her gaze travels over him, appraising. “You are pretty enough, now that you’re out of that ridiculous doublet.”

“Pardon me?” Jaskier puts a hand to his chest. “What, pray tell, was wrong with my doublet?”

“You looked like a flock of songbirds had exploded on you.”

“For fuck’s sake, remind me to introduce you to Geralt tomorrow. You can bond over your shared distaste for color and joy. Actually, no, I want you nowhere near Geralt. The two of you will gang up on me.”

One tentacle brushes over the curve of his cheek as she smirks at him. “Would you like to do this, or would you like to argue about that dreadful doublet?”

“I can multitask. Quite well, actually. I—” Jaskier’s words break off in a gasp as a tentacle wraps around his waist and lifts him out of the water, revealing just how enthusiastic he is about the idea of exploring her body further. She smiles smugly at the sight of his erection.

“You’ll tell me if there’s something you don’t enjoy?” she asks.

“I promise you,” he says hoarsely. “I am up for anything right now.”

She gives him a pointed look.

Jaskier swallows. “I’m not much for pain. So if you do bite me, please don’t do it hard enough to draw blood. Is there anything you don’t like?”

She looks a bit surprised, like she wasn’t expecting him to ask. “I don’t like being called names.”

“Of course.” Jaskier nods. “Can I kiss you, Yennefer?”

She smirks, lifting him towards her. “Already so demanding.”

“That’s me.” He smirks at her. “Utterly incorrigible. You’ll get used to it.”

She laughs and presses her lips to his. Her lips are soft and surprisingly warm. Jaskier cups her face in his hands as he deepens the kiss and she sucks in a breath. He starts to pull back, but a second tentacle loops around the back of his neck, keeping him in place, as her fingers card through his chest hair. He wonders how long it’s been since someone touched her like this and feels a jolt of sadness for this strange, beautiful woman.

“You’re thinking too loud,” she murmurs against his lips.

“You’ll get used to that too.” Jaskier lets his lips trail down the line of her jaw and the slope of her neck, tasting the saltwater on her skin. When he reaches her breasts, he flicks a glance upwards and finds her watching him, those violet eyes filled with undisguised want. It’s all the encouragement he needs to suck one nipple into her mouth, gratified when she arches into the touch. His hands settle on her waist, pulling her close.

Yennefer’s breasts are lovely things and for several long, glorious moments, Jaskier loses himself entirely in lavishing them with attention they deserve—kissing and sucking and licking to his heart’s content. He’s so focused on the task at hand that the slide of a tentacle against his hole makes him jerk in surprise.

She pauses. “Alright?”

“Gods, yes.” He grinds his hips back against the tentacle.

The tip of the tentacle circles his entrance delicately, a tease as it skims over the delicate skin. Jaskier moans against Yennefer’s chest, already so hard that he feels like he might burst. The slickness of Yennefer’s tentacles is as effective as any oil as she carefully works him open, sinking into him inch by inch. He’s never felt anything like the tentacle moving inside him, undulating as it works at his inner walls. The stretch is delicious and Jaskier loses himself entirely for a moment, unable to focus on anything but the slide of her inside him.

Yennefer’s moan makes his eyes snap open. When he sees her head tilted back, lips parted in pleasure, he asks, “What does it feel like for you?”

“Probably what having your cock inside someone feels like for you,” she says, sounding a little breathless.

Jaskier’s gaze travels downwards and he’s fascinated to see a slit has opened up right above the base of her tentacles, where a human woman’s pelvis would be. He runs one finger over it and her hips jerk a little. His tongue darts over his lower lip. “Is this…”

“Why don’t you find out?”

He huffs a laugh and bends to run his tongue over the slit, reveling in the way her breath hitches. He’s not sure what he’s expecting her to taste like, but she tastes like any human woman. As she begins to thrust inside him, Jaskier deepens his licks, encouraged by the hand that fists in his hair and the tentacle wrapped loosely around his shoulders. There’s a nub of what feels like a clitoris inside the slit and he teases it with his tongue, grinning as the fist in his hair tightens. When he slips a finger inside her, her hips jerk. He thrusts inside her with his tongue and his finger until she cries out, shuddering with her release. It’s such a lovely sound that Jaskier has to reach down with his free hand to squeeze the base of his cock. He doesn’t want to spill too early.

“Can I fuck you while you fuck me?” he asks.

There’s a flush on her cheeks and her eyes are bright. “I suppose so,” she says with a nonchalance that’s belied by the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

“Oh, thank the gods.” He leverages himself up to kiss her. “You know, I’ve long thought it unfair that it’s anatomically impossible to fuck one’s partner while they fuck you. A real design failure, if you ask me—”

“Bardling.”

“Yes, Yennefer?”

“If your talking puts me to sleep, no one will be fucking anyone.”

Jaskier doesn’t point out that she’s already inside him and enjoying it immensely, if the lust in her eyes and her unsteady breathing is any indication. “As my lady commands.”

She rolls her eyes, but yanks him into a kiss, so he doesn’t think he’s irritated her too badly. Or perhaps he has and she just wants to keep his mouth otherwise occupied. Oh well, he can live with that.

Yennefer pulls him flush against her, the tentacles around his waist and shoulders tightening ever so slightly. A third tentacle slides under his hips to keep him steady. There’s something thrilling about being all wrapped up in her, knowing that she could probably break him in half and almost certainly won’t. When she smiles at him, all sharp teeth and unearthly eyes, he can’t stop a shiver from traveling up his spine.

Her smile widens. “Are you ready, bardling?”

“I couldn’t be readier,” he tells her and nothing he’s said in his life has ever been so true.

When he sinks into her, she’s warm and welcoming and feels divine. He moans against her mouth, kissing her hungrily as he rolls his hips against her. Inside him, she thrusts in time with the motion of his hips. It’s all so much—her lips against his and the warmth of her cunt and the tentacle filling him up. Jaskier thinks he might die from all the sensations, but what a way to go. She kisses his neck, sharp teeth grazing sensitive flesh, as her tentacle pushes in a little deeper, hitting the perfect spot inside him.

“Oh, fuck.” Jaskier throws back his head. “If you keep that up, I’m not going to last.”

“It’s alright.” She nips at his earlobe, not quite hard enough to break skin. “We have all night.”

“You make excellent points.” Jaskier snaps his hips harder, grinding up against her clit as she drives into him. When she reaches her peak, letting out a cry as her face goes slack with pleasure, the sight is gorgeous enough that he finds his own pleasure within a handful of thrusts. He spills into her, muffling his cry in the curve of her throat.

For a long moment, they just lean against each other, Yennefer’s tentacles still wound around Jaskier and deep inside him. Jaskier finds that he really doesn’t want her to let him go. Not tonight. Possibly not ever. He doesn’t tell her as much, because he’s not a complete fool, but she can probably see it in the way he looks at her.

“You’re incredible,” he tells her.

He thinks there might be some fondness in her smile. He hopes there is, at least. “If all goes well, I’ll have legs in the morning.”

“Ah, well.” He glances down with regret. “I’ll probably still like you.”

“Probably?”

“You apparently have dreadful taste in doublets. That may prove to be a problem.”

“I suppose we should make the most of tonight then.”

“I suppose we should,” Jaskier says and leans in for another kiss.

***

Jaskier and Yennefer don’t fall asleep until the pink glow of dawn begins to fill the cave. When Jaskier wakes, he can see bright sunlight behind his closed eyelids. He doesn’t open his eyes, utterly at peace with the weight of Yennefer in his arms and the tickle of her hair against his chest. He’s stiff and sore—as much from sleeping on the stone ledge as from his delightful railing the night before—but it was entirely worth it.

Yennefer shifts closer to him and Jaskier runs a hand down her smooth, warm back. When his fingers find not the slick flesh of her tentacles, but the round curve of a human backside, his eyes fly open in surprise.

“Yennefer!” he yelps.

She sits up, blinking blearily at him. Her eyes are still violet, but they’ve lost that unearthly glow they held the day before. And when he glances down, he sees that her inky dark tentacles have been replaced by a pair of shapely legs.

“It worked!” Yennefer lets out a delighted little laugh, smoothing her hands over her thighs. “Fuck, it worked.”

“Are you surprised?” Jaskier asks.

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, looking down at her legs in wonder. “I’ve tried so many things, I was starting to think…”

He pulls her into a kiss, because it seems like the right thing to do. He half-expects her to push him away in the light of day, but she kisses him back. She has morning breath, which seems like an incongruously human thing, but he doesn’t point that out.

“I expected you to be taller,” he says when they pull apart.

“Excuse me?” Yennefer arches an eyebrow.

Jaskier has a feeling he might be treading dangerous waters—heh—but that’s never stopped him before. “You just gave an impression of a woman who would tower over me with legs. But you’re tiny.”

“I’m a perfectly average height for a woman. It’s not my fault you’re so…” She gestures to him.

“Hirsute?” he asks. “Manly? Irresistible?”

“I can find another sea god to sacrifice you to. Or perhaps a kraken.”

“You won’t,” Jaskier says confidently. “You like me.”

Yennefer makes a disgusted noise, but doesn’t argue. Instead, she tries to stand, then immediately wobbles and goes to her knees. Jaskier leaps to his own feet, wrapping an arm around her waist to help her up. She leans against him to stay upright, looking thoroughly irritated by the indignity.

“Hey now, you haven’t had legs in forty years,” he reminds her. “Let’s take it one—”

“If you’re about to tell me to take it one step at a time, I will turn you into an eel.”

“I had to make at least one joke.” He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, glancing down. Now that he’s not surprised by its existence, he notices that she has a pretty damn gorgeous ass, as gorgeous as her tits. He can feel his cock stirring to life against her hip.

“Really?” Yennefer asks dryly.

“Well, we really should celebrate your success, which I was an instrumental part of.”

“You were bait.”

“It was my job to sit there and look edible and I did magnificently, thank you.” He goes to put his hands on his hips and strike a pose, forgetting something vital—that he's the one holding Yennefer upright. With a surprised cry, she topples sideways into the water.

"Oh, fuck, Yennefer!" Jaskier looks down in horror. Did she ever learn to swim with legs? Has he drowned Yennefer? He's about to dive in after her when her head appears about water, her hair plastered to her face and a murderous expression in her eyes.

"I can see why you had such a rapport with the seagulls," she spits. "You have the brains of one."

"Now, that's uncalled for." Jaskier holds out a hand to her. "I was about to stage a daring rescue."

"Were you now?" She ignores the hand. To his shock, two tentacles emerge from the water, leveraging her back onto the ledge. Her legs are gone, replaced by eight tentacles.

"Oh, gods." Jaskier claps a hand over his mouth. "I ruined it, didn't I? Fuck, how do we fix this? Do I need to be bait again? Because I'll be bait again, if I need to be. If you would just tie me up in a shadier spot, I'd appreciate—"

"You don't need to be bait." Yennefer's tentacles flick in annoyance, much like a cat's tail. It's kind of adorable, not that he'll ever tell her that. "I was warned that this could happen. Every time I get wet, I'll turn back into this." She gestures to herself. "When I dry off, I'll have legs again."

"That's not exactly convenient."

"No."

"Is there a way to fix it? Turn you entirely human?"

"There is," she says. "It won't be easy though."

"I'll help," he tells her. "Whatever you need. I'll do whatever I can."

She looks faintly surprised and he feels another jolt of sadness for her. "Thank you."

"It's the least I can do." He offers her a rakish smile, because he feels like he's on the edge of saying too much and he needs to break the tension. "And in the meantime, I'd say a partial success is still worth celebrating. And I'm more than happy to help you celebrate."

Yennefer rolls her eyes.

“Your charitable spirit is admirable.”

“It’s a burden, but I’m happy to bear it.”

He thinks she might mutter something about him being a burden, but he’s too busy bending to kiss her to pay her any mind.

***

Twenty minutes later, Jaskier is feeling a little guilty for how much he's enjoying the continued existence of Yennefer's tentacles, though not guilty enough to dampen his arousal. She's lying on her back on the stone ledge with him suspended over her, a tentacle binding his wrists above his head, two more supporting his torso and legs while one thrusts inside him and one strokes his cock. She's already come twice and Jaskier can feel the heat building in his lower belly that tells him he's close.

He’s so focused on her that he’s entirely taken off guard when there’s a splash in the center of the cave and a shape comes bursting out of the water. Jaskier yelps and Yennefer throws out a hand, ready to cast a spell.

Then Jaskier makes sense of the dripping wet shape a few feet away. “Geralt?”

Yennefer lowers her hand. “This is the witcher?”

Geralt looks rather like a drowned rat with his soaking wet hair and his waterlogged clothes. He’s not wearing his armor or his swords—they probably would have been too heavy—but he’s clutching his silver dagger in his hand. Of course, being Geralt, he looks like the most most handsome drowned rat in existence. There’s a wild look in his eyes as he looks between Yennefer and Jaskier, breathing heavily.

“Jaskier.” His voice is a rasp. “They told me you… I thought… what the fuck.”

Jaskier smiles at his friend, very aware of the picture he must make, pinned in the air by Yennefer's tentacles and clearly enjoying every second of it. "Listen, I can explain."

***

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Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @mosaicscale @tsukiwolf42 @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek

#the witcher #yennskier #jaskier x yennefer #jaskier/yennefer #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #sea witch yennefer of vengerberg #ghost's fic #ghost's writing

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