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English
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Part 2 of The Puppy and the Wolf
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Published:
2022-05-31
Completed:
2022-09-18
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18/18
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Puppies and Playdates

Summary:

‘Our little pup went down for the first time today.’ Eskel says fondly, adding a good spoonful of honey to the pot and giving it a stir. Jaskier stops pulling away from Geralt to look at Eskel, confused.

Down?

He doesn’t know what that means.

Geralt’s hand drops from Jaskier’s cheek and he turns to look at Eskel. ‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah. You should have seen him, Wolf. He was perfect, playing with his toys.’

Oh, right. That.

 

 

Jaskier adjusts to his life as a kidnap victim.

Notes:

And baby Jaskier is back!

 
Please heed the warnings! This is fucked up, but also very fluffy. You have been warned.
Mild homophobic slur in the first chapter.

And to all the lovely people that left comments on the last work and encouraged me out of my bubble, I love and appreciate you all. If you haven't already, I recommend reading The Witcher's Pup first, so this instalment makes sense.

As always, enjoy!

Chapter 1: Down We Go

Chapter Text

Suckling on his pacifier, Jaskier moves Mr Wolfe around on the play-mat, brow furrowed in attention.

 

The stuffed wolf toy is in charge of keeping the soldiers in line, and it is a very serious job that Mr Wolfe is doing very well. Currently in the middle of ‘tummy time’ with Eskel, Jaskier is helping as Mr Wolfe rounds up the painted, wooden blocks that are scattered across the rug in front of the fireplace in the hall. The soft, grey wolf has become Jaskier’s favourite toy, and he doesn’t go anywhere in the keep without Mr Wolfe.

 

Jaskier’s never really had toys before. The feeling of having something soft and cuddly that is undeniably his, is- well, it’s good.

 

Once upon a time, when he was very small, Jaskier owned a small, stuffed bunny rabbit. His name was Pogo, and he had big, brown button eyes and soft, pink, floppy ears. Jaskier carried Pogo everywhere. Pogo was his friend, and helped Jaskier to sleep, even when the house was very loud. Pogo listened when he was scared, and kept away the monsters in the dark.

 

When Jaskier was five, his father threw Pogo onto the fire.

 

With a sudden need to be closer, Jaskier pulls Mr Wolfe in for a cuddle. He uses his fingers to brush the fur out of Mr Wolfe’s eyes so that he can see properly. Nostrils flaring, Eskel glances up from where he’s sitting beside Jaskier on the enormous fur rug, setting aside the blue diaper bag decorated the yellow ducks to study him carefully.

 

Jaskier still isn’t quite sure how, but all the men in the keep seem to be able to smell his happiness or distress.

 

‘What happened pup?’ Eskel asks, moving himself closer to Jaskier and scenting him again. Jaskier’s lip trembles, and he hangs onto Mr Wolfe with both hands, eyeing Eskel cautiously.

 

‘You’re okay little one, I’m not going to take him.’ Eskel says softly.

 

Jaskier tightens his grip on Mr Wolfe, but true to his word, Eskel makes no move to take him away. Humming softly, Eskel begins to run calloused fingers up and down Jaskier’s bare back, along his spine. The touch tickles, and Jaskier giggles, relaxing his hold on Mr Wolfe, just a little.

 

Good boy, Jaskier.’ Eskel says, and Jaskier preens quietly at the praise. Geralt and Eskel praise him all the time, and he still can’t get enough of it.

 

He isn’t sure how to feel about that.

 

‘Can Papa check your diaper?’ Without waiting for an answer, Eskel lowers his hand and pulls the hem of the fitted diaper that’s wrapped snuggly around his hips, exposing Jaskier’s bottom. He feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment, even though he knows he’s dry.

 

Jaskier grumbles and tries to roll away, but Eskel holds him easily.

 

With the snow battering against the walls and the wind rattling the windows, the chill of the air against his bare bottom makes Jaskier shiver. The fire is kept burning at all times, as far as Jaskier can tell, but the hall is large and hard to heat. The ceilings are high, and the stone walls don’t help at all to keep in the warmth. The enormous grey and white fur rug where Jaskier is put down for ‘tummy time’ helps to keep him warm, and he likes the way it feels against his skin.

 

‘Still dry? That’s okay baby, Papa will help you later.’ Eskel says, releasing the diaper and giving Jaskier a fond pat on the bottom. Jaskier whines and shakes his head, but Eskel just smiles reassuringly. Reaching for the diaper bag again, Eskel pulls out a bright orange onesie with a long, fluffy fox tail.

 

Jaskier perks up considerably at the sight of it. He likes the bright colours; the fox onesie is his favourite. It’s soft and warm, and the tail is kind of fun to play with. Geralt seems to prefer Jaskier in the wolf outfit, but Jaskier finds the grey much too plain for his tastes. Geralt should try colours sometime, Jaskier thinks, his entire wardrobe is a collection of items in varying shades of black.

 

As stunning as his, uh, kidnapper is in black, Jaskier would love to see a bit of variety- though he hasn’t been able to say as much, considering the pacifier strapped to his mouth. He’s torn. While he hates that the men don’t let him speak, there are upsides to being a prisoner, which is ridiculous, he knows. There’s something to be said about the routine that the wolves have for him; he’s kept warm, fed and cuddled every single day. And he has his own toys, which is rather nice.

 

The world spins, and Jaskier giggles as he is rolled onto his back, Eskel tickling his bare tummy.

 

Such a good boy for Papa.’ Eskel rumbles in his ear. Jaskier shivers again, the praise twisting deliciously hot in his belly. Eskel’s dark hair falls over the scarred side of his face, and he wraps one hand securely around Jaskier’s waist, keeping him still. Jaskier squirms as the handsome man pins him to the mat, his thumb idly stroking the soft skin of Jaskier’s belly as Eskel picks up the onesie with his other hand.

 

Ignoring Jaskier’s frustrated wiggling, Eskel chuckles and holds him still.

 

‘Alright pup, let’s get you dressed, then it’s a bottle before bed.’

 

Jaskier whines as Eskel stops stroking his belly. The larger man easily wrestles him into the fox outfit.

 

Frustrated, and feeling rather hot under the collar, Jaskier remains still as Eskel dresses him. While Eskel is certainly more gentle than Geralt, Jaskier now knows that everything he does in front of Eskel is guaranteed to be relayed to Geralt. Eskel hums as he fastens the buttons on the outfit and secures the fox-paw mitts to Jaskier’s hands. He misses his fingers when they’re hidden away, but it isn’t worth the fight.

 

Yesterday, having had quite enough of being a prisoner, Jaskier kicked at Eskel while being dressed. Forgoing the onesie and leaving him in nothing but a diaper, Eskel lifted Jaskier off the rug easily, carrying him to the corner where he was told very sternly that he was in ‘time out’.

 

Jaskier snorted his disbelief, but, to his dismay, Eskel was serious. Every time he got up, Eskel just put him back in the corner. This continued until he stayed in the corner, which, due to his stubbornness, had taken the better part of an afternoon. It was infuriating. The worst part was, when Geralt got home, Eskel told him all about their afternoon. So, on top of the time out, he also got a smack.

 

He thought this was rather unfair.

 

‘There we go pup, all nice and warm.’ Eskel says, finishing with the mittens and pulling Jaskier into a sitting position on the rug. As he’s pulled upright, he feels a familiar pressure in his bladder, and he squirms uncomfortably. Pulling the hood up and over Jaskier’s head, Eskel tucks his mop of auburn hair into it gently, hiding the straps of the pacifier. The red and white ears of his hood flop forward as Jaskier looks down at his gloved hands, pouting at the loss of his dexterity. Huffing a laugh, Eskel nuzzles at his ear and presses a kiss to his cheek.

 

‘God, you look so damn adorable.’

 

Jaskier can’t help but blush a little at the words, his cheeks growing hot. Eskel tucks his enormous hands under Jaskier’s arms, and he’s lifted off the ground. Clutching Mr Wolfe to his chest, he hangs on tight as Eskel shifts Jaskier onto his hip. Eskel is warm, and smells like wood-smoke, just like Geralt, but with a hint of pine. Breathing deeply, Jaskier forgets all about the gloves as Eskel starts to pat his bottom, carrying him across the hall. He’s getting used to being manhandled.

 

He doesn’t mind as much as he should.

 

The kitchen smells like spices. The fire is burning brightly here too, and the room is cosy. Around the kitchen table are four sturdy looking chairs; one for each of the wolves, and a highchair, for Jaskier. Several tall, wooden shelves line one of the stone walls, reaching to the ceiling. There is a small pot filled with soil under the window by the sink, growing parsley, mint and thyme. The thyme is wilting. The worn, wooden table in the centre of the room takes up most of the space, a basket of eggs in the centre.

 

While Jaskier hasn’t seen the chickens, since he’s not allowed outside, he can hear them clucking sometimes, and the rooster crowing. Roosters were supposed to crow in the morning, but Jaskier thinks this one must be stupid, because it crows at random times during the night, and all throughout the day. According to Eskel, the rooster likes to chase Geralt around the yard. Vesemir promised to take Jaskier out into the garden when he gets back from the town, and Jaskier can’t wait.

 

He really wants to see Geralt be chased by a rooster.

 

Vesemir keeps a good collection of preserves lining the shelves, and Jaskier is fascinated by trying to read some of the labels as Eskel takes Mr Wolfe from him. Mr Wolfe is set down on the table so that he can watch Jaskier eat, and Eskel straps Jaskier into the highchair. As always, when Eskel moves away Jaskier tests the give on the straps, wriggling in the chair. His bottom is still a little sore from his time out, and after a minute, he stops struggling and turns to watch what Eskel is doing. Eskel has just set a little pot of milk on the stove to warm when Geralt slouches into the kitchen, covered in snow and looking rather ragged.

 

Glancing up, Eskel raises an eyebrow.

 

‘Lambert again?’ He asks, and Jaskier stops fidgeting with the straps of the chair to listen. It’s been several days since Jaskier’s seen Lambert, and he isn’t quite sure why.

 

The last thing Jaskier remembers is being placed beside Lambert on the rug for cuddles, the younger man smelling of dirt and leather. Jaskier woke to the sound of Lambert swearing, Geralt pulling him away by the scruff of the neck. Confused and upset at being woken so suddenly, it had taken Eskel over an hour to resettle Jaskier into his bassinet upstairs in the bedroom, stroking through his hair until Jaskier fell back to sleep. Jaskier hasn’t spent any time with Lambert since, and Eskel seems rather determined to keep them apart.

 

Sighing, Geralt nods.

 

‘He’s been in a foul mood since Vesemir left.’ Geralt says, shaking the snow off his shoulders and pulling off his large overcoat, hanging it off the back of a chair by the fire. His face softens when he looks at Jaskier, the golden-yellow eyes glittering in the firelight.

 

‘And how’s my baby doing today?’ Geralt asks, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s head, pausing to sniff his neck before sighing, pulling out a chair and sitting heavily. The chair scrapes on the stone floor as Geralt pulls it closer to where Jaskier is sitting in his highchair. Fingertips brush his cheek, and Jaskier leans away, grumbling as Geralt strokes along the side of his face.

 

This close, Jaskier can see the tiredness in his face.

 

‘Our little pup went down for the first time today.’ Eskel says fondly, adding a good spoonful of honey to the pot and giving it a stir. Jaskier stops pulling away from Geralt to look at Eskel, confused.

 

Down? He doesn’t know what that means.

 

Geralt’s hand drops from Jaskier’s cheek and he turns to look at Eskel. ‘Oh yeah?’

 

‘Yeah. You should have seen him, Wolf. He was perfect, playing with his toys.’

 

Oh, right. That.

 

Jaskier grumbles unhappily from behind the pacifier. He shies away even as Geralt sits a little straighter, amber eyes lighting up. The chair squeaks as Geralt leans forward, a large hand ruffling at Jaskier’s hair, making the fox ears on his onesie flop around.

 

Good boy Jaskier, you make Daddy so proud.’

 

Jaskier preens for a moment, before remembering where he is and grumbling again.

 

Snorting in amusement, Geralt pats him fondly on the leg before getting up. Moving around the table and across the kitchen, Geralt wraps his arms around Eskel’s waist. Rumbling his happiness, Eskel leans back so Geralt can nuzzle into the side of his neck. Geralt rumbles back, kitchen fills with the sound of purring. Pausing only to sniff at the pot warming on the stove, Geralt smiles and presses another kiss to Eskel’s shoulder.

 

‘I like it when he smells like you.’

 

Jaskier wants to kick him.

 

He tries, when Geralt comes back to the table. The larger man just catches his leg, pressing one thumb into the soft flesh of his thigh hard enough to bruise. It’s a warning, and Jaskier falls still. As Geralt moves away, Jaskier looks desperately to Eskel. To his dismay, Eskel is too busy preparing Jaskier’s bottle, and hasn’t noticed Geralt silently threatening him.

 

The crackle of the fire and the gentle bumping of the stirring spoon against the side of the pot is interrupted by a deep sigh, and Jaskier looks up to Geralt to see him leaning heavily on the back of a chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

 

Seeing the tension in Geralt’s shoulders has Jaskier feeling a little smug, and he kicks his legs happily.

 

Sighing again, Geralt glances up at Eskel, his mouth moving like he wants to say something. He pauses, lowering his head and going back to his brooding for several more minutes. Jaskier thinks he looks constipated, but apparently he’s just considering what to say, as when he raises his head again and finally speaks, his voice is hesitant.

 

‘Lambert wants-’

 

‘I know what he wants.’ Eskel snaps. Jaskier flinches at the sudden harshness of his tone. ‘He’s not getting it.’

 

Jaskier isn’t sure what they’re talking about, but the mood in the room sours immediately. Looking cautiously from one caretaker to another, Jaskier watches them closely. With a low growl, seemingly undeterred by Eskel’s harshness, Geralt tries again.

 

‘Esk-’

 

‘No.’ Eskel says, his voice a measured calm as he takes the pot off the stove, testing the temperature with his finger before pouring it into the bottle. He attaches the teat and gives the liquid a good shake, turning to face Geralt, who’s still leaning heavily on the chair beside Jaskier.

 

‘He’s a baby, Geralt. He still needs help to use his diaper. He’s not ready-’

 

‘He won’t even know.’ Geralt says coldly.

 

Jaskier whimpers at the sharpness of his tone, leaning subconsciously away from Geralt and looking to Mr Wolfe for reassurance. He doesn’t know what they are talking about, and it scares him. It sounds like a topic they have discussed already, though Jaskier isn’t sure when, seeing as he’s been attached to Eskel all week.

 

Although, he does love a good nap by the fire after his afternoon bottle. He really needs to stop doing that.

 

No.’ Eskel says, the growl in his voice dangerous. Jaskier feels his lip trembling. ‘And if I catch him again-’

 

‘He slept through it last time.’ Geralt snaps, slamming a fist down onto the table. The loud bang causes Jaskier to jump in fright. ‘Lambert doesn’t understand, he needs-’

 

The men continue to snap at each other, but Jaskier isn’t listening anymore. There’s a ringing in his ears, and he can’t catch his breath. He doesn’t like yelling.

 

His father yelled.

 

The night Jaskier finally decided to run away his father yelled and yelled. Failure, a fairy, useless, worthless- His parents believed that masculinity could be beaten into a small boy, one belt whip at a time, and Lettenhove was large; large enough that Jaskier’s screams of pain went unheard by the staff.

 

Or maybe they were heard, but nobody helped him.

 

That’s what his mother did, after-all. She ignored his cries of pain, pushed him away when he wanted comfort. She didn't love him. No one loved him. 

 

Curling in on himself, Jaskier starts to cry.