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"See? I told you I'm not ticklish."
Sethos tilted his head, perplexed by the little conundrum he found himself facing. Truth be told, this was not the outcome he had expected, especially for someone like Scaramouche.
"Go on," Scaramouche smirked where he laid on the mattress, "you told me you'd prove it. I'm still waiting." He even had the gall to shift his arms up to the headboard, exposing every spot one could think of for full display — a death sentence for the normal person.
An amused chuckle slipped through Sethos' lips and he shook his head. A vulnerable position paired with easy access to all the classic areas, yet nothing to work with. He contemplated for a moment everything covered so far, taking in Scaramouche's form from where he sat between his legs:
Underarms? Nope.
Stomach? Zero.
Inner thighs? Nothing but a condescending laugh, far from what Sethos had been hoping for.
And this was consistent everywhere else. As a last-ditch attempt, he reached behind for one of Scaramouche's legs, fingers dancing along the bare kneecap, yet no reaction, save for the evident eyeroll.
"How is this possible?" Sethos finally shook his head in defeat. This was something he had never seen before, completely out of his scope. "Are you even human?"
There was a brief pause, before Scaramouche lifted his head upwards, looking Sethos straight in the eye. "And what if I'm not?"
Sethos raised an eyebrow, meeting the other's gaze. "Well, I hope you're actually something cool then, like, I don't know— a unicorn or something." The displeased look on Scaramouche's face was enough for Sethos to burst out in stifled laughter.
"Stupid," Scaramouche muttered, yet even he breathed an amused sigh. "Well, anyway, are we done here, or do you enjoy failing repeatedly?"
"No, no, I'm— just give me a moment. I'll figure something out."
"What is there to figure out? I'm not tickl-"
"Shhhhh! Shh!" He quickly placed one finger over Scaramouche's lips, silencing the other. "Shush, you are. I'll figure it out, just wait."
Ignoring the little eyeroll and the following "you won't", Sethos found himself back at the drawing board. At this point, he had exhausted all of his usual options, bar random spots like Scaramouche's ears and feet, the process of trial and error leaving him fruitless in his endeavors. Still, the little voice in his head told him there was something he was missing, something he just overlooked. Where could it be, where could it be....
And then it hit him.
What if he was looking at this from the wrong angle?
What if he needed a different approach?
What if not 'where'...
But rather 'how'?
Motivated with renewed interest, Sethos quickly reached for one of Scaramouche's wrists, lifting the limb nearly eye-level. Even without his face in focus, those doll-like fingers splayed and wiggled pointedly, as if taunting Sethos to try him. As he pressed his lips to the palm of his hand, Sethos took a brief glance at Scaramouche's face, finding delight in the rare look of curiosity that even he held, locking that little image away in his brain for later.
The first kiss was innocuous in nature, slight and innocent that would be brushed off as a single tingle, yet the effects were instantaneous. Sethos could feel the limp limb turn rigid in his hold, the small tendons flexing against his lips, some progress at last. His lips curled upwards as he planted a second and third kiss in quick succession, a sharp gasp to accompany the fourth, feeling Scaramouche's hand twist and writhe in his grip by the fifth, his fingers against his face—
"AahhHH!" Sethos yelped, trying to pull his face away from the sudden pinch that Scaramouche's fingers had on his nose, yet the other held firm.
"What do you think you're doing?" came Scaramouche's voice, Sethos flailing his arms to maintain balance as the other pulled him closer by the nose. Though irritated, there was an unmistakable tint of confusion to his words.
"Ermm, tickling you of course," he managed through sealed nostrils.
His answer was met with widened eyes, as if Scaramouche was met with the worst news possible. "That— That wasn't.." he mumbled, slowly releasing his grip on Sethos' nose, the realization culminating in his expression. "I-I'm not ticklish," though it certainly sounded more like question.
"You still sure about that?" Sethos raised an eyebrow; both knew the truth by now.
To prove his point, Sethos lifted up the hem of the large shirt engulfing the other's body, staring down the pale skin underneath. Driven by his own curiosity, Sethos leaned forward and planted the first kiss—
"HaAhH-!!"
The sharp whimper wasn't enough; Sethos wanted more. He chased the surface even as Scaramouche sucked in, his lips never breaking contact, peppering the sensitive skin with pecks and kisses, relishing in the bouts of giggles and gasps that filled the room. He could feel hands grip the top of his head from above the shirt in an attempt to stop him, but Sethos remained unperturbed, growing more insistent with each passing second.
"St-Stahahap! I-I'm nohot ticklihihish!"
You are.
"N-Nohoho! You cahahan't!"
He will.
"O-Okahahay! I-I'm ticklish! I'm ticklihihish! PleheHEase!"
And that's alright.
The longer he went, the more desperate Scaramouche became. Sethos gripped onto his sides to keep himself steady amongst the thrashing set of limbs that accompanied the helpless squeals, until the bottom of his heel came down against Sethos' back with a thud. Lifting himself from out under the t-shirt, Sethos held the offending leg over his shoulder, snickering as he took in Scaramouche's disheveled form; the flushed cheeks and messy hair suited him well.
Scaramouche panted for breath, looking Sethos in the eye. "Hah, how.. did you know?"
"Luck? I guess?" Sethos shrugged, his intuition having never failed him before.
He gently rubbed the side of his cheek against the outer edge of Scaramouche's knee, before turning his head inwards, grinning as Scaramouche began shaking his head, gritting his teeth and covering his face just as Sethos planted another kiss at the underside of his knee.
"No, no.."
Sethos tightened his grip on Scaramouche's leg as it jerked with each kiss, marking wispy trails in his wake. And the further Sethos descended along his leg, the more visceral the reactions became, until he reached the edge of Scaramouche's inner thigh. What could only be described as a mix of strained squeal reached his ears and Sethos looked up to see the other watching him in anticipation, his fingers desperately gripping the sheets.
"This a good spot?"
Scaramouche shook his head, which Sethos could only take as a "yes".
"No—Nohoho! A-AhaHAHAhaha! S-Sethohos!"