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Scratching The Itch

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“Jaskier! Get back here.”

Jaskier cursed under his breath. Foolish of him to think he could sneak away from camp without Geralt noticing.

“I won’t be long. I just have to, ahh, attend to something -”

“No.” Geralt looked distinctly unimpressed. “There are ghouls and boars and heavens knows what else in these woods and I won’t have you wandering off.”

“Under other circumstances I would be touched by your concern, but in this case I really must insist  -”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“But Geralt, this situation is most pressing -”

“For heaven’s sake, Jaskier, just jerk off here if you must.”

His mouth fell open in shock. “You think… you’re suggesting…”

Geralt raised a single, sardonic eyebrow. “Uh huh.”

He composed himself, as much as he could. “What makes you think that’s what I was going to do?”

“You always smell like that before you go and get yourself off. It’s quite unmistakable.”

He staggered back. “Are you telling me you can smell when I’m horny?” Good god. That presented so many new opportunities to be mortified.

“Yup.” Geralt popped the p smugly. He was enjoying this, the bastard.

“And you know when I’m jerking off?”

“Uh huh. Witcher senses, remember?”

“Right! Terrific. That’s just wonderful. I’m delighted to learn that, after travelling with you for five years, you’ve been listening to me get off in the woods all that time. Marvelous. Wonderful. What a delight.”

Geralt snorted, apparently unconcerned by the considerable strain he was putting Jaskier under. If only he knew what I was thinking about all those times, Jaskier thought, and then quickly stopped himself. Could Geralt hear what he was thinking? No, that was ridiculous. He had enhanced senses, not psychic powers.

“Get on with it, then.” Geralt sounded almost bored.

“You mean…” Jaskier inhaled sharply. “I should…” He made an indicative hand gesture and Geralt smirked.

“I thought that was what you wanted.”

“But… right here?”

Geralt shrugged one shoulder. “Unless you’d rather sit quietly for once.”

“No. I mean. Hmm. Well. I could, I suppose.” He settled himself on his bedroll, a decent distance from Geralt but still undeniably within visible range. “I’ll just… go ahead, shall I?”

Geralt hummed, dismissive, as if he didn’t care one way or another. But as Jaskier unlaced his breeches and wrapped a hand around himself, he felt eyes on him. He glanced up to see Geralt regarding him with interest, making absolutely no attempts to hide it.

“Geralt!” he squawked. “How am I supposed to concentrate when you’re…” Observing. Watching. Maybe even liking it. “… distracting me?”

“I wouldn’t have expected you of all people to suffer from stage fright.” Geralt smiled, as smug as Jaskier had ever seen him. “But I wouldn’t want to divert your attention from this important task.” His eyes flashed with amusement in the low light. “Perhaps it would help if I joined in?”

Jaskier blinked, entirely sure he must have misheard. “If you… joined in?”

“A bit of audience participation. That always sets you at ease when you’re performing, doesn’t it?” Geralt threw one leg to the side, splaying his legs and giving him a challenging look. It was getting dark but Jaskier was almost certain he could see an outline in his tight leaser trousers, the outline of…

Oh. Oh.

Well. Perhaps this evening’s entertainment could be salvaged after all.