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It was one of Jaskier’s favorite games to play.
How much could he “accidentally” tickle his dear witcher before Geralt caught on and attempted murder?
In Jaskier’s defense, the game had come into existence with a few true accidents, a day of too-soft touches before Geralt snapped. Now, though, it was almost never actually accidental. Jaskier was far too aware of every place their bodies touched and how to not know when he was tickling Geralt. Sometimes he just felt like being a little shit.
And it wasn’t as though Geralt wasn’t playing along. The man may have loved to speak in grunts and hums, but Jaskier knew more than anyone just how smart he was. Not to mention his weird witcher senses — Geralt could probably smell the intention on him. Jaskier had no idea how it worked, but it was probably true.
So Jaskier played his game.
A brush of his fingers against Geralt’s jaw. Tucking Geralt’s hair behind his ear with too-gentle fingers. Going in for a hug and squeezing Geralt’s side just on this side of ticklish. Honestly, Jaskier got away with it a lot longer than he thought he would. A lot longer than Geralt would normally let it go on.
Which was why he was only slightly surprised when they made camp for the night, and Jaskier was swiftly thrown onto a bedroll, pinned down by Geralt’s weight.
“Hello, dear heart,” he said. “And how are you, this evening?”
Geralt rolled his eyes. “You’ve had your fun, bard. Now it’s my turn.”
Jaskier gulped. “Oh?”
Geralt gave him a grin – a dangerous, feral sort of thing – and brandished his own wiggling fingers. “Let’s play a new game. I call it ‘How Loud Can the Bard Scream?’”
And, as it turned out, the answer was very .