He smiles against skin as he works in her, as he drives with mechanical precision, with constant, clockwork speed. His fingers tease, his mouth slides and bites, toying with the flesh of her breasts, with the thin skin of her areola. Her nipple hardens under his tongue and he tugs at it.

"What is it lovely?" Jaskier asks as she sighs his name, her statement cut short. His own mind is a haze of pleasure and aching, bone-deep want. His hips snap and slide and drive into her. His cock throbs with each wonderful, enveloping press into her body.

"Would you like a change of pace?" He asks, hums really, and shifts back to standing. Her left over his shoulder is tilted away until only her ankle rests against the rise of it. He mouths along her foot, along the shallow places of her calf, and, standing, he should strike a far more tender place inside her.

All he must do is find it.