Ensnared
"Geral—" Jaskier's scream was cut off when something yanked him off his feet. Trees, grass, the sky and more trees tumbled by in a dizzying dance. Branches hit Jaskier in the face and whipped at his arms. He kicked against the pressure around his ankles, but it only grew tighter, winding itself further up his legs.
This was no hunter's snare.
All air was punched out of his lungs when he slammed to a halt against a tree trunk, sliding down until he slumped on the wet and cold earth. The rustle of leaves rose in his ears, and more firm coils wrapped around him. Gasping for breath, he tried to focus, blinking furiously until his sight cleared. Blood ran into one eye but the other was fine and showed him thick branches that snaked around his legs and torso, their smooth bark whispering where it rubbed against his clothes.
Jaskier opened his mouth to scream. Another branch whipped around, gagging him. He squirmed, throwing his weight against the branches, kicking his legs, writhing in his bonds.
Pain bloomed all over his body. Blood stained his clothes. Jaskier froze, staring at the razorsharp thorns that had snapped out of the bark, slicing into his skin. They withdrew, settling like a dog's hackles. The short moment had sufficed to shred his trousers and shirt, leaving wounds scattered all over him. They were shallow but hurt badly enough to bring tears to his eyes.
Sagging against the tree trunk, Jaskier forced himself to breathe slowly. Whatever had captured him was not intending to kill him. Yet. He had been given a warning, and he would heed it.
The branches moved, slithering across his skin, pulling at his clothes. The fabric tore and fell away, leaving him increasingly naked. Where his pants and braies turned out to be too sturdy, the thorns came out once more to cut them.
Pulled up and forced to stand on legs that barely carried him, Jaskier found himself turned around. The branches held him and moved him like a puppet, tipping his head back until he was face to face with his captor. The long skull looking down on him sat on broad shoulders cloaked in dark leaves, sinewy arms snaking out of the brambles. A curved claw trailed up his thigh, hooking behind his balls.
Jaskier stared up into the empty eye sockets of the skull, cold sweat chilling his skin. This close, the creature smelled of leaf litter and soil and a wild musk. In the trees, crows were calling to each other. Maybe Geralt would hear them, or smell the creature. He would come and save Jaskier. He always did.
The grip on his head relaxed enough that Jaskier could move his head. He slowly looked down, as much to escape the skull's gaze as to see what was being done to him.
A thin tendril wound its way around his cock, the end moving from side to side, searching blindly. It found his foreskin and dove inside.
Jaskier's scream was barely a whimper, muffles by the branch forced into his mouth. He strained against his bonds with all his strength, but they might as well have been steel. The warning prick of thorns into his flesh drained every thought of resisting from his mind. A sob rose from his chest and he forced it back down.
Limp in the hold of the creature, Jaskier watched the tendril wrap around the head of his cock, pushing the foreskin down and squeezing the crown. It brushed over the slit, making Jaskier flinch. He couldn't help it. The merest hint of sharp thorns pushed out of the glistening bark of the tendril, only to retreat. In a slow and steady push, it opened him up and buried itself inside his cock.
It was like nothing he had ever felt. It seared across his mind in pure silver, brighter than all his thoughts. It was not quite pain and not quite pleasure and it left him panting.
Moving inside of him, the tendril slid deeper. If Jaskier had thought the sensation had been already unbearable, he was taught differently. His hips jerked and his cock grew hard in the tight grip it was caught in. The creature made room for it, the coils shifting around his shaft, massaging it.
In no time at all, Jaskier was panting and moaning, his balls drawing up tight. What the creature was doing to him set him ablaze, burning away any control or shame he had. Every slide further inside his cock was almost the end of him, yet he couldn't find his release.
When he finally did, it was a blinding shock of miserable pleasure. It left him limp and shuddering, his cock throbbing around the tendril still shoved inside. It moved, pulsing in its own rhythm, drawing back in a slow movement that almost made him spill a second time.
He barely noticed the branches uncurling around him, not until they let go and he collapsed on the ground. Catching himself on his hands and knees, Jaskier's elbows buckled and he curled up on his side, fearful of the creature's claws.
There was only a rustle of leaves. When Jaskier slowly sat up, he caught a mere glimpse of the skull, bone white shining between the dark trunks of the trees. Then it was gone, the woods falling silent until first one and then another bird took up its song once more.
Jaskier stood, expecting to get grabbed at any moment. When it didn't happen, he bolted. No matter that his clothes were torn to shreds, he had a change back at camp. He just wanted to make it back before Geralt returned. Wash himself in the river to rid himself of the scent clinging to his skin. Geralt would be sure to notice, and ask questions Jaskier had no answers to.
He simply wanted to forget any of this ever happened.