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Geralt had had quite the unfair advantage since he’d found out that Jaskier was ticklish. Quite the embarrassing advantage as well, considering he liked to remind Jaskier how much he knew Jaskier loved it. Jaskier wasn’t even sure if the man was trying to tease (or if he even knew how , the stubborn devil), or if he was just being unfairly smug because mentioning it actually got Jaskier to shut up due to embarrassment.
But Jaskier knew that everyone had to be ticklish, even if it was just in one place. He refused to believe that the witcher mutagens coursing through Geralt’s veins robbed him of that, too.
If only Jaskier knew where to start , though. Knew where to look, knew where to poke or prod for a reaction. He couldn’t be obvious, then Geralt would just wreck him again (not that he was complaining), and Jaskier would get nowhere.
So Jaskier put the sneaky skills he rarely used to work and simply observed . Frankly, most of his discoveries were on accident, in moments he hadn’t even tried to be stealthy and coerce a laugh out of the man.
Like when Jaskier was going through his usual routine of giving Geralt a bath after a particularly disgusting hunt. He had washed the man’s hair for him and was combing through it with his fingers, when one finger accidentally brushed up against Geralt’s neck. Geralt jumped, the bathwater almost sloshing out of the tub, and Jaskier himself almost jumping back at the sudden move, wondering if Geralt had sensed something dangerous.
“... You okay?” He asked.
He only got a low, “Hm.” in return, but Jaskier was well-versed enough in Geralt to decipher it as meaning, “Yes.”
It didn’t click until after the bath what had happened. Geralt’s neck was ticklish, to that light little touch. Jaskier knew he had been right! Geralt probably didn’t even know what that was .
But he needed more research before he could lunge.
The next time was also accidental.
Geralt had gotten a gash on the back of his leg while on yet another hunt. Jaskier swore that when he came back to camp, limping and dripping blood, he almost lost it. The stupid witcher really needed to learn to be more careful. The gash wasn’t bad enough to need stitches to heal, but it was quite a near thing.
Instead, Jaskier had him lay down on his stomach and “try to relax, you big oaf,” while he cleaned the wound and rubbed some healing salve on it before wrapping it. While wrapping it, Jaskier accidentally brushed up against the, for once bare, skin of the back of Geralt’s knee a few times. Every time, Geralt would flinch slightly or tense his leg up at the odd feeling.
Despite it being an accident, Jaskier realized what was going on faster, that time. He swallowed any teasing remarks and managed to get out an apologetic-sounding, “Sorry, I know it’s all tender back here from the wound.”
Once again, all Jaskier got back was a, “Hm.” that meant, “Yes,” but this time there was a somewhat confused tinge to it.
Jaskier ignored it, but he knew that Geralt knew it wasn’t from the wound. He would find out soon enough.
Once more, Jaskier found something out accidentally before he decided to strike.
It was a such a stupid, mundane moment. Jaskier tripped , rather gracelessly, as well, and flailed as he went down. Trying to avoid scraping his lovely face against the road, he grabbed for Geralt blindly, managing to slow his descent with a tight grab at his side that unfortunately slipped away and still led to him falling face-first into the dirt.
Well, almost. Geralt managed to grab the back of his doublet and yank him back up, but that was almost just as bad! Jaskier paid a lot of money for clothes that looked as nice as his, and Geralt could’ve stretched or ripped the fabric!
But, at the grab, Geralt reacted much differently than that day Jaskier simply wiggled his fingers against the spot. His body twitched, an aborted flinch or jump, and he inhaled sharply through his nose.
So, Jaskier thought, it takes a rougher touch to get under his dear witcher’s hard shell. At least, in certain specific places. He could work with that.
Jaskier had enough sense and kindness to wait until they were camping between towns, as opposed to attempting to wreck him in an inn. For one, it would totally ruin his big scary charade, which Jaskier completely saw through, but he knew Geralt was protective over who got to see him be all soft and secretly sweet. For another, if the whole thing went south and Geralt turned the tables and completely destroyed him, he didn’t want to keep up the entire town with his shrieking laughter.
Jaskier started it under the guise of brushing Geralt’s hair for him, citing that it was “important to do so if you don’t want it to get all matted. Do you want me to have to cut off that luxurious mane?” Jaskier knew Geralt would say yes once he had an excuse to, and Jaskier had provided the perfect excuse for him.
So he brushed Geralt’s hair, long after the tangles had been tugged out. He watched Geralt’s body language carefully and closely: watched his shoulders untense, watched his eyes flutter shut, watched his fists unclench. The more relaxed Geralt was, the better the chance Jaskier had of getting away with it.
When Geralt looked totally blissed out, Jaskier made his move. He quickly slid his fingers onto Geralt’s neck, ready to wiggle and tickle, and threw his body weight onto the man to hopefully throw him off-guard and off-balance enough for Jaskier to get the upper hand just as long as he needed.
But really, Jaskier should’ve known better than to underestimate witcher senses and witcher reflexes.
Geralt’s eyes snapped open, almost as if he’d been expecting something, and flipped Jaskier onto his shoulder and onto the forest floor. Geralt quickly held him down with a firm hand against his chest, putting enough pressure that Jaskier couldn’t squirm out from under it, but not so much that it hurt.
Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “I knew you were plotting something. If you wanted to laugh, you could have just asked.”
Geralt started lowering his hand towards Jaskier’s stomach, fingers forming that horribly ticklish claw that Geralt had learned to do to make him near-scream no matter where it was placed. Jaskier’s eyes went wide and he started struggling even more, which only seemed to amuse Geralt further.
“Wait!” Jaskier cried. “Wait!”
Geralt immediately stopped, knowing that (for once) he meant it, there must’ve been something in Jaskier’s voice. His hand immediately left Jaskier’s chest and he sat back, giving Jaskier space.
“As fun as that always is,” Jaskier said as he sat up, ignoring the blush he could feel warming his cheeks as he finally admitted that, “I had something else in mind.”
Geralt raised his eyebrow again. “Hm?”
“ I was going to try to tickle you .”
Geralt huffed, looking away off into the forest. “You tried, remember?”
“Ah,” Jaskier said, moving into Geralt’s space again and holding up a finger, pointing it at Geralt with his next words, “I tried one spot, with a method that necessarily doesn’t work for everyone!” Jaskier rose up to his knees and put his hands on his hips. “There is plenty to experiment with, and I may or may not have accidentally made some interesting discoveries the past few weeks!”
Geralt scowled in that way that Jaskier knew meant he was just thinking rather than him actually being angry. “Like what?”
“Do I have your permission to tickle you?”
“Jaskier--”
“Hear me out! You can tell me to stop whenever you want, okay?” Jaskier held up his hands in a placating motion to show he meant no harm. “Whenever you’d like. But you missed out on this huge part of childhood! It’s a bonding experience, Geralt, it’s fun! But if you don’t like it, we’ll stop right away.”
Geralt stared at him for a few moments. “You just want revenge for how much I’ve been tickling you.”
Jaskier grinned and shrugged, not bothering to deny it. “Maybe.”
Geralt stared at him awhile longer. “I’m probably not ticklish. I’m a witcher.”
Jaskier rolled his eyes, putting his hold head into the motion. “Why don’t we prove that, one way or the other, hm?”
Geralt finally gave in, acting annoyed about it the whole time as he scooted over to the bedrolls that Jaskier had set up to lay down. Jaskier grinned, bright and toothy and followed him over, plopping over his hips to straddle him.
Geralt raised both eyebrows at him, that time, but he didn’t say anything about it. “What do you claim to have discovered?” He asked.
Jaskier’s smile turned into a playful smirk as he crackled his knuckles and wiggled his fingers as a “stretch.” “Well, dear witcher, I thought you would never ask! I say we start from the top, wouldn’t you agree?”
Geralt just rolled his eyes at Jaskier’s theatrics, probably a subtle hint to get on with it , but Jaskier was going to take his sweet time with this. Where was the fun in it, otherwise?
“This is also coincidentally the first one I noticed, wouldn’t you know. I was quite overjoyed when I realized what that cute little jump meant, you could’ve flooded the whole inn with your bathwater had you jumped any higher!”
“ Jaskier .”
Jaskier laughed lightly. “Oh, alright.” He started reaching down to brush his fingers across Geralt’s neck before he pulled them back with a gasp. “Oh wait, I have the best idea!”
He ignored the strange look Geralt gave him as he leapt off his torso and raced over to his own pack. He dug through it for a few moments before sitting up with a triumphant, “ aha !”
Geralt sat up as Jaskier approached, feather quill in hand. “You are not drawing on me,” he said gruffly.
Jaskier scoffed, pushing Geralt back into a sitting position (or, more accurately, Geralt let himself be pushed back into a sitting position) and sat on top of him again. “Not the ink part, the feather part.”
“Feathers tickle?”
Jaskier wiggled the tip of the feather over Geralt’s nose with a grin. “ Terribly so.”
Geralt smirked up at him. “I’ll have to remember that.”
Jaskier sputtered for a moment before scowling, cheeks once again red, and gently “slapping” Geralt on his shoulder (it was really more like a tap than anything). “Hey, quit teasing! I’m supposed to be the one tickling!”
“Who’s teasing?” Geralt said with a smug smile, clearly teasing.
Jaskier pointed the feather threateningly into his face. “You be quiet.”
Jaskier felt something that he was certain was a muffled chuckle rumble through Geralt’s chest and he smiled again, remembering what he was there to do.
“Well, then, Geralt. Ready to laugh?”
Geralt readjusted his position on the bedroll to be more comfortable and looked up at Jaskier warily. Jaskier gave him his most disarming smile and Geralt relaxed minutely. And then Jaskier gently touched the feather down to Geralt’s neck and brushed it back and forth.
Geralt made an absolutely absurd face and jerked his neck as far away as he possibly could. Jaskier couldn’t help but burst into laughter himself, laughing so hard that he had to lean over and rest his head against Geralt’s sternum as he calmed down.
“I thought this was supposed to be about making me laugh,” Geralt said, though there was still an undercurrent of bewilderment in his voice.
“It is,” Jaskier wheezed. “It is , it’s just-- your face , Geralt! It was too good!”
“Hm.”
Jaskier knew that “hm.” It was the “stop poking fun at me and make a point” hm. So Jaskier quickly composed himself and sat back up, still grinning madly.
“It felt weird, though, right?”
Geralt rolled his shoulders as best as he could lying down. “I guess. I didn’t laugh.”
Jaskier rolled his eyes fondly. “I only did it for barely a second. Don’t worry, we’re starting for real this time.”
Jaskier touched the feather down to Geralt’s neck once more and followed him this time when he jerked away. Geralt went through an interesting face journey as he squirmed lightly under Jaskier. Geralt pursed his lips and, while Jaskier thought he had heard something about witchers being unable to blush due to their mutations, he definitely looked like he’d be blushing if he could.
“That’s weird,” Geralt said, voice coming out slightly more high pitched than usual.
“Oh yeah?” Jaskier said teasingly. “Is that so?”
“Don’t use that voice,” Geralt practically growled.
“Why not? Does it make the weird feeling worse ?”
Geralt grunted as he continued to struggle underneath Jaskier, but Jaskier knew it was all a front. Geralt could throw him clear across the clearing into a tree, if he wanted, and not even break a sweat, and yet he let Jaskier sit on his hips and continue to tickle him with the feather.
But Jaskier wanted more than just funny faces and squirming. He wanted Geralt to let go and laugh . And he seemed to be getting closer, based on the shaking of his shoulders and chest, but he was still holding back.
Jaskier simply smirked. He knew how to crack a tough nut (or, at least, he hoped).
Jaskier leaned down to whisper in Geralt’s ear with as teasing and smug a voice he could muster, making sure his lips brushed against the shell of Geralt’s ear and his breath was as ticklish as possible. “Come on, just laugh! I know you want to, just let go. You’ll have so much more fun if you just smile for me.” Jaskier fluttered the feather around Geralt’s other ear before twirling it inside, at which Geralt actually made a quiet yelp. “Drop the big bad witcher act for one night, just for me. I want to hear that deep rumbly laugh that I know is hiding in there somewhere .”
Geralt started letting out little huffs. His hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides with the self-control it was clearly taking to not reach up and pull Jaskier away to stop the maddening sensations. Jaskier grinned at the effect he was having.
Time to secretly put another thing he found out to use. While Geralt was focused on Jaskier’s playful torment around his ears and neck, Jaskier other hand sneaked up to rest unobtrusively against his side. When he thought it had been long enough for Geralt to dismiss it, he dug in.
Geralt’s eyes opened wide with a startled laugh as Jaskier’s fingers skillfully dug into the sensitive spot. He shot into a sitting position, meaning Jaskier also shot up into a sitting position, and squirmed back and forth, suddenly struggling all the more to keep his hands to himself.
“Jas-Jaskier!” Geralt laughed out.
“Yes, my dear witcher?” Jaskier asked smugly, pulling his face back and dropping his feather quill to be picked up later. “What is it?”
Geralt opened his mouth to answer, but Jaskier chose that moment to dig into Geralt’s other side as well, and Geralt simply tumbled into more laughter. His hands finally gave in and grabbed his wrists, but after a moment of holding tightly, his fingers loosened their grip so his hands just followed wherever Jaskier’s went.
“It feels weird!” Geralt cried out.
“I told you!” Jaskier chuckled.
Jaskier untucked and pulled up Geralt’s shirt to slip his hands inside. They kneaded and squeezed and vibrated into his stomach and sides, and Jaskier even took an extra moment to make sure he twisted a finger into Geralt’s bellybutton for good measure, which made Geralt’s laughter go somewhat breathy in the cutest way.
Jaskier then carefully began moving up Geralt’s ribs, lightening his touch slightly so as to not hurt him. But Jaskier then quickly discovered that Geralt’s ribs was another spot where the lighter he went, the more ticklish it felt, unlike his sides and stomach.
Even as his body curled inward instinctively to protect itself, Geralt’s head was thrown back as he laughed. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, crinkling at the corners, and he had the biggest smile Jaskier had ever seen on a person, especially on him .
Geralt’s arms were tucked up too tightly against his body for Jaskier to sneak up into his armpits, so he tickled back down Geralt’s sides and ribs to target his stomach again, keeping Geralt in stitches. He leaned forward and blew a couple small raspberries on Geralt’s exposed neck while squeezing at his hips and Geralt let out a high-pitched (for him, at least, with that gravelly voice) yelp as he fell back to the bedroll, once again taking Jaskier with him.
Seeing as he was unused to tickling, Jaskier decided to have mercy on Geralt a little earlier than he would for someone else. He slowed down the tickling until it was just him placing ticklish little kisses and nibbles along the column of Geralt’s neck, even as he turtled up to try and protect himself, and eventually brought those to a stop as well. He rolled off Geralt and layed on the bedroll next to him that he had spread out for himself.
“Well?” He asked after a few moments of Geralt catching his breath, grinning up at the trees above them.
“Well what?” Geralt asked, looking toward him.
“ Well , what did you think?”
“It was… interesting. What was that thing you did with your mouth?”
Jaskier looked at him. “What, the raspberry?”
Geralt furrowed his brow. “It is named after a fruit ?”
Jaskier laughed. “Indeed it is, and it is perfect for places like necks and sides and stomachs.”
Geralt hummed and smirked. Jaskier squawked as he realized the information he’d just freely given out, likely going to lead to his own destruction later. After a few minutes of silence, Jaskier letting Geralt recover and think about the concept of tickling, he turned to Geralt with a grin once more.
“You liked it,” he sang smugly.
Geralt scoffed. “And what makes you think that?”
Jaskier chuckled and rolled over so he was draped over Geralt’s chest, propping his head up on his hand (and hoping his elbow wasn’t digging into Geralt’s sternum in the process). “Well, you never asked me to stop. And I certainly made it known that you could.”
Geralt scoffed. “I just wanted you to have fun. You won’t get the opportunity again.”
Jaskier snorted. “As if . I know you had fun, that smile of yours still hasn’t faded all the way away! Plus, there’s still so many other spots to test and methods to try, I know you’re far too curious to not have a repeat performance.”
“Hm.”
Jaskier grinned. That “hm” meant “you’re right but I’m embarrassed about it so I’m not going to directly answer so you think you’re wrong.”
“Sure,” Jaskier said, a teasing lilt to his voice.
It wasn’t until much later that night, when they were curled up next to each other on their bedrolls, warmed by the fire and each other’s bodies, that Jaskier finally got his answer, barely absorbed by his half-asleep mind.
“Maybe I like it, too,” Geralt murmured in his ear.
Jaskier smiled as he drifted off.