You were asking for a prompt? How about Jaskier soft Domming Lambert?
Jaskier being taken to a strip club and being thirsty on sight upon seeing Eskel (and/or) Lambert dancing
Hello dear! Ok. I’ll do:
Jaskier soft dommimg Lambert. Short ficlet (in theory). Very Explicit. (Obviously)
Also, Lambert is in lingerie.
Lambert heard the door creak open behind him. He stopped fidgeting and held still as best he could. Hope and anxiety fought for dominance in his chest.
Jaskier had asked for this. Had asked for him to put on his finest handmade deep blue underthings. In reply, Lambert asked him over and over if he was sure. Jaskier just laughed in that easy, musical way of his. “Oh I am quite sure, Lambert.”
Jaskier had seen him naked. He knew what he looked like. He had known Lambert for months, so he knew how foul mouthed and hot tempered he was.
And Lambert knew that he was hardly some darling thing. He was not willowy or ethereal. He was wiry and calloused.
This was stupid. But he wanted it, and Jaskier said that he wanted it too. So Lambert had said fuck it.
While Jaskier performed, Lambert had stomped upstairs. He had bathed and put on Jaskier’s best pair of delicate underthings. They were silk and lace and they felt like whisper thin petals on his skin.
Then, Lambert had prepared himself, writhing on the bed, riding his own slicked fingers. Then he had gotten down on his hands and knees facing the mirror and waited.
Once or twice he had almost lost his nerve and run out into the the cold. But something had anchored him there, hands and knees pressed into the rug, thighs trembling.
It was hope, he supposed.
And this was the moment. The door had swung open and air from the hall had puffed in, smelling slightly of ale and carrying with it the muffled conversations from far away party guests.
This could be the moment. Jaskier could take one look at him like this and laugh. He could change his mind. He could regret it.
He heard a swift intake of breathe, and creaking of Jaskier’s impractical shoes on the floorboards.
Then Jaskier made a series of noises Lambert had yet to hear him make.
The first sound was a swallowed choke. Then it was like the release of a very very please sigh. It almost sounded like a purr. That was followed by a dark, predatory chuckle. Then the sound of the door clicking shut and the lock turning.
Lambert gathered the courage to crane over his shoulder and look at Jaskier.
The dark predatory chuckled was paired with a dark gleam in his very blue eyes and an eager, predatory grin. And finally, he said something intelligible.
“Fuck me but I am a lucky cunt.”
Well. That was good then.
“Yeah you are.”
Lambert tried to sound devil-may-care but his heart still beat against his chest cavity like a drum.
“Uh uh uh,” tutted Jaskier. His shock had subsided and he sounded like himself again. “Polite requests only, darling.”
They had talked about this. Polite requests only. Since Lambert met Jaskier, he had learned about this side of himself. The side that liked to please.
“S-sorry.”
Jaskier knelt behind him. Lambert watched him carefully in the mirror.
“Quite alright, Lamb. Look at you, being so good for me. Displaying yourself like this for me.”
Jaskier whistled as his eyes raked Lambert’s body with intense enthusiasm.
“Your ass is fucking gorgeous, darling. Look at you. Everything.” His fingers whispered up Lambert’s thighs and stopped to grip his hips.
Lambert exhaled and leaned back, seeking his touch. Jaskier smirked and rewarded him with more touch. He ran his fingers up the furry planes of his stomach. He slipped them under the brassiere and thumbed Lambert’s nipples.
Lambert could feel his cock growing heavy trapped in the underwear, pressed against his stomach.
“Fuck me.”
Jaskier planted slow, soft, tender kisses up his spine. “You won’t get anything if you cannot behave, Lambert,” he murmured into his skin. “Can you behave, my love?”
Lambert gritted his teeth. “Please. Please fuck me.”
Jaskier’s teeth glinted. “Good boy.”
Lambert whimpered.
“Did you do as I asked?”
His hands never stopped touching him. Gripping him. Tucking his fingers underneath his straps and thumbing the lace criss crossing his hips and chest.
“Y-yes.” Lambert was panting now. Arching his back. He could feel cool air where his cock had dripped precum onto the silk.
He could hear Jaskier unlacing his trousers behind him.
“Because you are desperate for my cock, is that it?”
Lambert nodded.
“Say it, darling. Say it with those soft, cock sucking lips.”
“Yes.” He breathed. “I need it. I need your cock.”
Jaskier pulled out his cock, and stroked it.
“This one?”
“Fuck. Yes. Please.
There was the sound of a bottle opening and the delicate scent of almond oil filling the air. Then, Jaskier slipped the thin, delicate string of his thong to one side.
Lambert felt so godsddamn exposed. Why was it so exciting? He rolled his hips. Jaskier squeezed his ass with one hand, parting him.
“Then take it.”
He nudged his hole with the fat tip of his cock. Lambert tried to shove his hips back but Jaskier held him in place.
“You will take it the way I want you to take it, Lamb. Is that clear?”
A thrill shuddered through him and he nodded.
“Good,” rumbled Jaskier. He exhaled and cursed under his breathed as he slid deeper and deeper still. “Good boy. You’re taking me so well.”
Lambert ground his hips and bit his lower lip and he took it all, moaning like a whore.
Then Jaskier curled the fingers of one hand around Lambert’s neck and urged him up. He knelt now, back against Jaskier, and hands resting on his knees.
Jaskier nuzzled his neck.
“I’m going to fuck you while you look at yourself in the mirror.”
Lambert gulped. He felt so fucking full and pliant he couldn’t question it. He looked in the mirror.
“Look how gorgeous you are stuffed with my cock. In my lingerie. Look at you.”
He saw himself the way Jaskier did. And yeah. No wonder he had been sure he wanted this. Lambert reached behind him to clutch at Jaskier’s thighs to steady himself.
It was good he did, because Jaskier began to fuck him in earnest, one hand still resting on this throat. The sound of panting and slapping of their bodies filled the room. When Jaskier fucked him, it was like a demon took over his body.
The funny, mouthy bard turned into a devouring, desperate, man, hell bent on fucking Lambert until his mind emptied of everything except the need. The need to be full. The need to be taken. To be ravaged.
Lambert’s body jiggled shook and his gaze dropped. Jaskier slowed down, and sweaty and panting, he gently moved his chin to face the mirror.
“Look. I said look.”
And for the first time, under Jaskier’s adoring, intense gaze, Lambert understood.
Jaskier came apart behind him, fucking him brutally but tenderly and came with an aborted cry.
“Make yourself cum for me Lamb. In the mirror.”
Then he watched himself come apart. And he slumped into Jaskier’s arms, allowing him to shower him in kisses.
Then, they lay panting in each other’s arms.
“You’re coming to every performance from now on, Lambert. I mean it.” Jaskier nuzzled into his neck. The sound of the party outside was growing quiet, as people paired off or staggered home.
“I’ll come to as many as I can.” He pushed Jaskier’s damp curls from his forehead and kissed him.
“Oh good.” Jaskier whispered into his lips.
“Because you are a lucky cunt,” chucked Lambert.
Jaskier plopped onto his back and smiled at the ceiling.
“That I am, darling. That I am.”
—fin
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