You can call me Julienne. Here I'm gonna post my fics and hcs mostly about my characters, but I'm open for any suggestions. Maybe I'll drop fandom list if someone's interested.
It's a tkl blog as you can see and I don't think I'll post anything about personal life. Although my asks are open and I'd be glad to get any messeges. English isn't my first language so I apologise in advance for any mistakes. I'm Russian speaking. Switch leaning lee, my pronouns are she/her. Have a nice day and let me know if you like my posts🙂↕️
Your work is AMAZING!! The final chapter was absolutely perfect! The whole serie was really good and i cant decide on if i should be upset it ended or happy that i found it🥹 Please keep working on more wonderfull projects AND DONT FORGET TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF TOO!!! ( ´∀`)/~~(*^▽^)/★*☆♪(*^ω^)ﾉ
Hii!! Thank you so much for your kind words it really keeps me going 😭♥️ I'll actually release at least two more chapters for 'Bracelet' and I hope I'll get to write them soon enough... I'd appreciate any ideas or fandoms you all want me to work on
Here I am again to thank @vqler for this wonderful amazing gorgeous art. I literally yelped when I saw this gift🙏
This chapter is the end the main plot but I'll keep writing for this fic. Stay with me and let me know if liked it♥️
!Warning for swearing!
It’s been happening for mornings now: Alex would wake up completely out of it. Either after some god-awful dream or suddenly finding himself back home. Not that he was deeply shocked to be in his own apartment; he was just far more interested in how exactly he’d gotten there.
He rolled onto his back and immediately regretted it. The memories were starting to creep back in, presenting themselves as a giant pain in the ass and a sequence of choppy scenes. Talk about a Friday night out with friends...
The way home was a total blank space in his memory, leading him to assume that someone had generously dropped him off. The neat pile of his jacket and jeans on the chair seemed to confirm that.
Who knew that a sweet, deep sleep required sweet, deep sex first? Not a bad sleeping pill, honestly, but it definitely felt addictive.
Alex bit the tip of his tongue as he checked his phone. One notification, and it was from Jess. Had he seriously managed to cross paths with her while practically unconscious? Couldn't they have just smuggled him out quietly?
How did they even pull it off? Alex didn't remember walking out of the club on his own two feet, which meant they basically carried him. He dreaded to think what kind of bullshit they had to feed the bouncer to let them leave with his limp carcass.
"Hey Lexi, text me when you're up, or I’m calling the cops to your address in a couple of hours and your Spanish delegation will have to explain themselves to the law. Xoxo😘"
Quickly typing back to Jess that he was alive, mostly in one piece, and that calling a squad car was completely unnecessary, he finally dragged himself out of bed. A rare sliver of sunlight was breaking through the thin curtains, finally deciding to warm up this gloomy city, and it brought an involuntary smile to his face.
Slapping his bare feet against the cool floor, he padded into the kitchen, squinting against the uncharacteristically bright light. He actually had time for a proper, human breakfast, which was a rare luxury given his training schedule.
One egg, two eggs, three, four, five eggs, veggies, some bacon. Soon enough, a sizzling scramble that looked more like shakshuka was bubbling in the pan.
Meanwhile, Alex was shaking up his protein workout blend, swaying his hips and singing along to the music blasting from his phone.
—Let me beeee and I'll set ya freeeee I am in miiisery, — the upbeat tune echoed through the room.
He took a gulp, wiping his upper lip with the back of his hand in a less-than-elegant move, and pulled the pan off the stove. Well, aren't they just lovely people? Not blowing up his phone, letting him rest - absolute angels.
After inhaling his breakfast, Alex decided to get ready for the gym. He caught a sudden glimpse of himself in the mirror. His whole neck was covered in dark purple bruises and bite marks. Total parasites. He was definitely going to rip Elliot a new one for this. And Elliot better hope it was just his head.
Pulling a turtleneck on in the middle of summer was a questionable choice, sure, but parading around covered in hickeys wasn't exactly a thrilling alternative either. He’d already made a fool of himself in front of the regulars at "The Touch" in all his blackout glory; he had zero desire to explain things to his teammates now.
Around noon, Alex decided he needed to stop by the club. It might be awkward, but that was no reason to go into hiding. Though, if anything, they seemed to be the ones hiding from him. It was starting to get weird. Was Jessica seriously the only person who cared if he was still breathing?
***
They were standing outside the club, leaning against the brick wall. Elliot was smoking tensely, while Alister tried to position himself so the smoke wouldn't blow directly into his face. By the third drag, Alister finally decided to cut the sensory and lung torture short.
—We overdid it, didn't we?
—Oh, shut up, Al. I feel sick enough as it is.
—What do you mean 'shut up'? Did you text him even once this morning?
—Did you? — Elliot snapped back. —I know I’m a piece of shit, okay? I don't need you playing my fucking conscience right now. You were right there too, remember?
—Don't you dare pin all the blame on me! You think I'm not worried sick about him?! What if he never wants to see us again? Honestly, I wouldn't blame him, who would, — Alister paced around Elliot, letting out his panicked tirade until Elliot grabbed him by the arm.
—Al, — he shook him slightly, —Al! Look at me and stop pacing, my head is splitting open.
Alister finally let out a breath and leaned back against the wall.
—I mean, he said he was ready, right?
—He did... But he also said 'I can't'. And I didn't stop.
Alister just leaned his shoulder against Elliot's and smoothly snatched the cigarette right out of his hand. He coughed on the very first drag—he just really wanted to feel included—but the cigarette slipped from his fingers when the man of the hour materialized on the horizon.
—Did you guys camp out here or something? — Alex stood in front of them, arms crossed over his chest. —Why are you staring at me like I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past? What did I manage to miss while playing dead? Did someone die?
—About a million of our brain cells... — Alister said, sounding completely lost.
—Alex, how are you even feeling? — Elliot forced out. Judging by his tone, he fully expected Alex to yell "Psychopaths! Monsters!" and break his nose before walking out of his life forever.
—Fairly decent. Well, as decent as a guy can feel after finals and a brutal workout.
Hearing this, Alister and Elliot froze, fearfully waiting for the angry shoe to drop. But when nothing followed and Alex just started looking at them like they were sharing a single, struggling brain cell, they finally braved the silence.
—Alex, we really want to apologize, — Alister began.
—For what? — he frowned.
—Are you serious? — Elliot asked, bewildered.
—What do you mean 'are you serious'? When people want to apologize after spending the night with you, it's a bit unusual. And honestly, not great for my self-esteem.
—Fucking hell, we practically killed you!
—Practically killed me with sex?
—I’m serious!
—No, Alex, darling, look at it from our perspective. It is genuinely terrifying when your partner blacks out. We, — Alister paused, trying to burn a hole through Elliot with his eyes, — really crossed a line. You were vulnerable, completely defenseless, and we weren't careful enough with you.
—Alright, let's get one thing straight. So you think that I, a nearly two-meter-tall quarterback, showed up at a BDSM club and was shocked to get a proper, rough pacing with all the trimmings? You guys are seriously overestimating yourselves. Bring your handcuffs over here, I can snap those chains with one hand, they're like paper to me. I'm a grown, healthy man, not some 'vulnerable, defenseless' thing. If I hadn't wanted exactly what happened last night, you two would be the ones carried out of that club feet first.
They both went completely silent, processing his words. Elliot was the first to soften.
—Are you saying we stressed out for nothing?
—I'm saying your IQs are in the negatives, — Alex rolled his eyes, but a smile was breaking through.
—¡Gracias a Dios! — Alister practically threw himself onto Alex's neck. Alex barely had time to catch the Spaniard around the waist.
Elliot smirked and shoved his hands into his pockets, suddenly not knowing what to do with himself.
—What are you frozen for? Want a hug too?
—I don't want anything, curly, — Elliot tried to play it cool again, but when Alex extended his free hand, he squeezed them both tight.
—Inside the club? — Alister chimed in, sandwiched tightly between Alex's chest and Elliot's bicep.
—I wouldn't say no to a massive shot of caffeine after that sleepless night... Or something stronger.
The club was surprisingly quiet and cozy for a morning. A few scattered patrons chatted quietly, creating a relaxed atmosphere.
The three of them piled onto the barstools and ordered. Alex decided to shake up his usually predictable choices. This time, Alister pointed to a different picture on the menu, and Alex was served a bumble coffee, but with cherry juice. It tasted just as amazing. Looking at the smug faces of Alister and Elliot, though, he guessed their coffee with cognac was mostly just cognac with a splash of coffee, if there was any coffee in it at all.
Alister was already nervously tapping his fingers against the handle of his mug, clearly itching to break down the situation and establish some ground rules since ambiguity clearly drove him crazy, but Alex beat him to the punch.
—Look, you guys... You're really important to me, honestly... And I thought maybe you'd want to... — he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and pulled two slightly crumpled tickets out of his gym bag.
Alister snatched them first, shoving one toward Elliot without even looking.
—¡Dios mío! Are you inviting us to your game? — Alister gasped, staring at the ticket with pure delight. —Oh, Alexander, we are so incredibly touched.
Alister nudged Elliot with his foot, who was still staring blankly at the invitation. This wasn't just some random game, though he'd never turn down free football tickets. This was an all-access pass into Alex's real life, the one outside the club. The life where he takes off his wristbands, tackles guys bigger than Elliot, and hangs out with his teammates and friends. Elliot ran a hand through his dark hair and carefully slipped the ticket into his pocket.
—I get that it might be boring to sit in the stands and watch guys run back and forth with a ball, trying to hit each other just short of a legal violation, but...
—Alex, — Elliot cut off his rambling, —of course we're coming. Don't you dare think we wouldn't want to watch a match you're playing in. I'd sell my soul for that, and here it is for free! You're our captain, remember? Just make sure to get Alister some team scarf or something, because he shivers in stadiums like a teacup chihuahua.
—You little shit, I do not shiver! — he flicked Elliot's ear. —But I will absolutely take the scarf. I'll be your lucky charm.
—And what number is our captain playing under?
—Number 18. You won't miss me, the seats are pretty close to the field.
—Oh, they're going to see the biggest number 18 banner on the planet.
—Don't you dare show up in some ridiculous hats or with your faces painted. I have a reputation to uphold!
Alister just blinked innocently.
—We can't promise anything. Personally, I make an incredibly sexy cheerleader.
***
The university stadium was buzzing like an angry beehive before the kickoff. College games never pulled the massive crowds of the pros, but the turnout was still huge. Alister and Elliot, naturally decked out in the team's colors, were aggressively navigating their way down to their front-row seats.
—Look, I expected stadiums to be cold, but this is ridiculous, — Alister started doing what he did best: complaining.
—For the love of God, — Elliot groaned, peeling off his favorite leather jacket and throwing it over Alister's shivering shoulders, —did your mother never teach you to dress for the weather?
—Why would I, when I can just take your jacket? — Alister replied with genuine confusion.
They finally settled into their seats, eyes glued to the players warming up on the field.
Alex tightened the straps on his kneepads, listening to the familiar creak of the leather. He glanced over at the bench, where number 6—their backup quarterback—was staring back at him with pure anxiety. The kid was a recent recruit and lacked real game experience, but he was the only one with any potential to call plays if Alex went down. Number 6 absolutely did not want to step onto the field today; the university's entire pride was on the line. The stakes were way too high for a rookie. His only prayer was that nobody knocked Alex out of commission. And knowing how much Alex loved throwing himself into the thick of it—giving his coach gray hairs at twice the normal rate—a quiet game wasn't on the schedule.
The coach was over on the sidelines, aggressively mapping out strategies on his clipboard. Alex only listened with one ear. As the captain and quarterback, he was supposed to know this stuff inside out long before game day.
Alister stood up, leaning over the railing and pointing toward a corner of the field.
—Look, is that Alex warming up over there? You can't see a damn thing with those helmets on, who even designed these.
—Al, it's not the helmet's fault that you're blind as a bat and can't read a giant number on a jersey. Yeah, that's Lex over there. Oh, he's looking this way. Wave to him, come on, don't just stand there.
Alister shot his hand up, waving frantically. Alex just raised a hand in acknowledgment and turned back to his team.
—Who's that you got up there, Farley? A girlfriend? Introduce us, captain, come on, — Danny hit Alex's helmet with a heavy glove from behind.
—If you cared about your passing technique as much as my dating life, you'd be priceless, Dan, — Alex shoved his hand away, hitting the receiver's shoulder hard enough to send him stumbling back a step. Danny just grinned.
Alex himself was practically bursting with excitement. They actually came. He hadn't felt this nervous before a game since the last time his brother sat in the stands. It was one thing to disappoint a coach, but losing in front of the people closest to you was a whole different story.
A few minutes before the whistle, the entire offensive lineup gathered into a tight huddle around Alex.
—Alright, listen up. Forget the score, we play like we do in practice. Give it everything you've got, but keep your heads straight. We clear?
The guys clapped their helmets, shouted a synchronous "Break!" and broke out onto the field.
The whistle blew, marking the start of the first quarter. The air felt electric. The second he made his move, the field would explode into violence. His eyes darted sharply from player to player. The instant number 5—the running back—streaked past him, there was no time left to think. Shielding him from the defensive line with his massive frame, Alex literally slammed the ball into the guy's stomach and bolted in the exact opposite direction. The entire defensive line swarmed after him. The distraction worked, hopefully not at the expense of his ribs.
—Go Alex, go! — a piercing shout echoed from the stands. Who knew Alister could scream that loud?
Elliot was standing right next to him, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the railing. Both of them clearly had too much adrenaline to actually sit down for this game. Alister was gesturing so wildly he looked ready to fall over the edge.
Alex had initially planned to play it safe and take care of himself. The playmaker couldn't afford to leave the field over a stupid sprain, or the team's entire offensive structure would crumble instantly. These guys relied on his split-second tactical decisions.
He focused mostly on passing, keeping his distance from the defensive line and their crushing hits. Every single second, Alex scanned the field, reading the layout. The situation could flip in a heartbeat. It was like a chess match, except your thought process was being violently interrupted by massive dudes trying to break you in half.
Alex managed to maintain a relatively safe distance until things started going south. He'd been run ragged, his hair soaked under his helmet and his legs heavily aching. And that was only the first half. Still, that didn't stop Alex from crossing the field, throwing himself right into the epicenter of the chaos.
He collided chest-first into an opponent, leveling him to clear a path for the running back. The dull thud of their bodies hitting slammed into his ears. A brutal struggle broke out. Alex was thrown hard onto his back and dragged about a yard across the turf before he managed to flip the defender under him.
—Is that even legal?! Where is the referee in this game?! Are there any rules at all, he could literally cripple him! — Alister was sounding like a full-blown siren.
—That's how it's done, — Elliot choked out, far too locked into the game to answer stupid questions from a hyper-empathetic Spaniard.
The first half wrapped up, leaving Alex covered in grass stains, a tear in his jersey, and a solid collection of bruises. Though, admittedly, Ethan's hematoma looked way more impressive.
He pulled his helmet off, letting his damp curls fall into his face as he checked the scoreboard. The opposing team was barely leading. The second half would decide everything.
—We don't have a cushion. Defense, hold the line at all costs. No stupid risks.
The guys tiredly raised their fists, locking in.
Alex always found this part of the game the ugliest. Everyone's angry, everyone's soaked, everyone's exhausted. Acid burns your throat from the constant running, every breath stings your lungs, and that's when mistakes start piling up. They started terribly, letting a play slip right after returning to the field. Fortunately, it fired the team up. And then it was on. Touchdown after touchdown slammed down on both sides, and by the time the final five minutes were ticking away on the clock, their receiver drove the ball in again. The stands exploded into a roar, and Alex could swear that through the rush of blood pounding in his ears, he could distinctly hear Elliot's voice. But it was too early to celebrate. They were down. Down by exactly one point.
It was time for the extra point. Every single eye in the stadium locked onto Alex. He stared intensely at the goalposts. Call the kicker out? A field goal wouldn't cut it. Not unless they could miraculously drive the ball back into the end zone in the next few minutes. Way too risky; the defense would destroy them before they even got close. That left the two-point conversion, which was its own gamble. In such a tight space, there was no room for fancy maneuvering. He'd have to go full battering ram, staring down the defensive line nose-to-nose. There was no other choice. The referee was about to blow the whistle, so Alex crossed his arms above his head. They were going for two. The coach, with a heavy heart, gave the signal. The play was live.
He snapped into position. Three massive defenders stood right in front of him, staring him down like a pack of starving wolves. He had two blockers behind him for support, but the push had to come from him. The whistle blew, and all three charged.
Alex took a short, explosive step and threw himself into them. He shoved one aside with his shoulder, nearly dislocating it in the process, and slammed his helmet straight into the second guy's solar plexus like an enraged bull. The guy gasped, dropping instantly. The remaining two scrambled to catch him, but Farley was already gone. With two massive strides, he crossed into the end zone and slammed the ball down as he hit the turf. The scoreboard lit up: 24:23. The guys piled onto Alex, completely ignoring his bruises and aches. Honestly, Alex couldn't care less about the pain right then.
Once he finally managed to shake off his ecstatic teammates and make it through the showers—all while avoiding the coach, because seeing him meant enduring a lecture that was half praise and half chewing him out for the near heart attack—he walked out toward the stands to find his two idiots. It didn't take long. Alister immediately launched himself at his neck, planting kisses anywhere he could reach: his cheeks, his nose, his jawline, his lips, his chin. Alex was incredibly glad he'd talked the guys out of waiting around to see "what kind of girl he brought to the game." Barely recovering from Alister's assault, he felt a pair of strong arms lock around him from behind.
—Guys, come on, I can't breathe... Let the winner catch his breath... — Alex managed to wheeze out with a laugh.
—You were absolutely incredible, seriously, I have never seen such a beautiful game in my life, the NFL has nothing on you, what a absolute beast, the way you just threw them off, — Elliot rambled passionately right into Alex's neck.
—Next time I am bringing sedatives to the game! I thought my heart was going to give out, they were like a literal brick wall and you just slammed right into them at the last second!
—Come on, you guys are making too much of it... — Alex blushed. —It's just my job. I'm an athlete. An incredibly hungry athlete, by the way. Let's hit up that burger joint nearby, I know a great spot. My treat, celebrating the win and all that.
There were no objections. Three starving, adrenaline-fueled men headed off to decimate the inventory of a local diner.
Alister didn't even utter a single complaint about hygiene or fine dining. Anxiety empties an stomach faster than any workout. So when their food arrived on wooden platters, he dug in first, completely abandoning his usual manners. Alex and Elliot appreciated the enthusiasm and followed suit.
Alex couldn't stop smiling. Usually, he came here alone or with a loud group from the team. Not that his teammates weren't great, but sitting here with these two, listening to them hype him up while enjoying a massive meal, felt infinitely more intimate.
He was working his way through a second burger, just admiring the two of them, when a voice broke his trance.
—Le-ex! Lex, you deaf? Did they rattle your brain out there? — Elliot waved a hand in front of his face.
—I can hear you just fine.
—Sure you can. Look, we wanted to talk to you about something.
—Something really important for all of us, — Alister chimed in.
—If this is another conversation about how you 'almost killed me,' I am tearing both your heads off.
—No, no, God forbid, we already witnessed your survival skills this morning. We wanted to suggest something actually serious. I mean, everything started so randomly, and then you were sleeping like a log, and then we convinced ourselves that it was over and you hated us... And now we don't even know what to call this. So we figured it's time to just call it a relationship. You, me, and this arrogant sadist. What do you think? — Alister blurted out in a single breath, and they both stared at him, waiting.
Alex finally put his beloved burger down, looking a bit dazed as he nodded.
—Yeah, I'm down. What do I need to do, sign something?
—What? — They looked at him again, but this time with pure relief. Elliot leaned back into his seat, running a hand through his hair and finally letting out a massive breath.
—What do you mean 'what'? I've never actually dated anyone before, how am I supposed to know what the protocol is! — Alex threw his hands up, admitting total incompetence in the romance department. By the time he finished speaking, Alister was practically crying from laughter.
—Oh, Lex, it's a bit too early to sign contracts, — Alister wiped the corner of his eye with a napkin, his smile wide.
—Does this mean I get to call you Ellie now? — Alex turned to Elliot, who was still trying to fully process everything. His eyes shifted between Alister and Alex, unable to believe his luck. Two gorgeous guys, and they were both his.
—No. Absolutely not. Not a chance. I swear to God, Alex, I will tickle you to death if you try it, — he threatened with a smirk.
—Are you sure you're scaring him right now, or just poking the bear? — Alister laughed.
—I've created a monster, — Elliot said, dramatically covering his eyes.
—Is there a problem, Ellie?
—Look at you being all cocky when you're not the one laughing.
He squeezed Alex's knee under the table, and Alex violently kicked the table leg in surprise.
—Not in public!
—Oh, so you can tease me in public, but I can't touch you?
—You two are literal children, — Alister said, nudging Elliot's shoulder.
—So... What do we do with all this now? What's the plan? — Alex asked.
—Next? Well, we start by kidnapping you, getting comfortable, and making you laugh so hard the neighbors call the cops.
—Perfect plan, just let me finish eating.
The second they stepped inside Alex's apartment, nobody wasted any time. Before he knew it, he was pinned between them again. Elliot attacked his ribs from behind. Alex tried to wriggle away, but those massive arms held him against a warm chest in a steel grip, fingers digging right under his arms.
—What's the matter, Lex? Ticklish? Of course you are.
—Ehehelliot!
Alister ran his fingers gently from his sides down to his lower stomach, loving the feel of his warm skin. Alex let out a sharp yelp right into Elliot's ear, but Elliot barely flinched.
—Dios mío... — Alister murmured.
Elliot dug his fingers into the sensitive spots right above Alex's hip bones, and Alex completely lost it. That was his absolute off-switch.
—You ca-ha-ha-ha-an't do-ho-ho that! — The evening was starting to feel like a massive case of déjà vu.
—And why exactly can't we?
Alex grabbed Alister's wrists, but instead of pushing them away, he pulled them closer.
—That's it. Timeout. Ceasefire. Mandatory cuddles.
Everyone quieted down, pressing into each other. Alex felt warm breath against the back of his neck on one side and a soft sigh resting near his collarbone on the other.
—Are you guys staying over? — he finally asked. —Since we're a couple now...
—A trio, — Alister corrected gently. —We can only be a couple if we're planning to banish one of us tonight.
—It's just, I've never had, well... Boyfriends. Especially two at once.
Elliot chuckled softly.
—Well then, welcome to the club.
Please, share your impressions, it's really important to me🙏
Heya! Just wanted to let you know I think your series is really cute! Was wondering if we might get to meet William at some point?
Hi! Glad you liked my original story! I dunno if I could come up with something about William, I'm actually genuinely surprised someone read it so precisely that they remember his name and existence in general. I'll try to think of plots he could be included in. Thank you very much for your question🙂↕️
This fic is like 3 y/o so deal with young me style of writing. I love Leonard with all my heart and more but there's literally no content with him in tk community. I'm actually not writing for fandoms unless it's a rare one lol
Words count ≈ 1611
Another stupid day. Another stupid fight over TV shows.
"Why? Penny, why?" Leonard groaned. He clearly couldn't understand Penny's passion for those mushy, romantic dramas.
"Oh, Leonard, come on! You're just going to turn on that dumb space show again," Penny demanded, reaching for the remote.
"Actually, I wanted to put on a superhero show, but either way, it's better than your stupid dramas!" Well, maybe the argument was starting to get a bit more aggressive.
"Give me the remote, nerd, or you'll regret it!" Penny leaned over him a bit.
In an attempt to keep control of the remote, Leonard stretched his arm out and leaned back further onto the couch. But Penny was no pushover. She grew up in Nebraska and clearly had no intention of giving up.
Penny was lying on top of him, trying to grab her chance to make it before the show started, while Leonard, on the contrary, stretched his arm as far as possible to keep the girl from doing so. But today, luck didn't seem to be on his side. Not even close.
It all happened just as stupidly as it had begun. Trying to pull herself closer, Penny grabbed onto Leonard, and quite successfully at that. The moment she squeezed his side a little, the man instantly blushed and tensed up. She didn't really understand this reaction. Did she squeeze too hard? Was he in pain? "Oh, crap, awkward!" flashed through the girl's mind.
"Hey, are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Penny asked, concerned. What the hell was going on with him? What was with the blushing?
Meanwhile, Leonard extended his hand with the remote again, and avoiding his girlfriend's eyes, nervously blurted out, "No, of course not! Everything's fine. Oh, well, just don't do that again."
What was wrong with this smart guy? But the battle for the remote continued, and Penny decided to play dirty. "Don't do that? I'll take that as a challenge," she thought. She pulled herself up toward the remote again, squeezing the scientist's side. No matter how hard Leonard tried, his silly jacket didn't save him from the touch or from a foolish squeal.
Penny stopped again, but now she understood what was happening. Why hadn't she noticed this before? It was obvious that this sensitive idiot was ticklish! It looked like she had just won this war.
The guy lying under her, on the contrary, was now looking at her in panic, plotting an escape plan. Of course, it wouldn't work. Of course, Penny would get him either way. His thoughts were interrupted by a couple of pokes and the girl's delighted voice.
"What a discovery, Leonard! How could I not know about this?" The girl smiled. The whole situation was now obviously under her control. Just like the silly four-eyed boyfriend who refused to give up the remote. But to hell with the remote and the show. Leonard Leakey Hofstadter was terrified of being tickled, that's what mattered!
"No! Penny! Please! Oh, please, don't!" he managed to yell out between attempts to stifle his laughter and giggling. The remote turned out to be useless here too. Right now, he was only interested in how to hide from Penny, who was craving his suffering.
"Seriously? All these arguments with you could have been won like this? Oh, what a useful piece of knowledge," the girl's smirk only grew. It got even worse when Penny decided that simply squeezing his sides was getting boring. Her fingers crept higher toward his ribs. The touch was gentle, her nails sharp. The closer the girl got to his armpits, the more Leonard squirmed and laughed. But there was no resistance. He just lay there, not even trying to curl up or get away.
"I could literally stop any talk about physics this way. It's so simple! Oh, seriously? You can make those kinds of sounds too?" The girl was loving all of this. Her boyfriend was just a cutie, and in this state, he looked damn adorable. But that was no reason for pity, and she continued to gently stroke up and down his ribs.
"Don't you dare! Sheldon must never find out about this!" The guy tried to speak clearly, but much of it was drowned out by his ringing laughter. "He won't hesitate to manipulate me through this... No, Penny, please, just not there!"
All of this was driving him crazy, and when the girl started moving and poking her fingers into his armpits, he almost screamed from the tickling and jumped.
"So I'm not allowed to tickle you like this in front of your crazy roommate? Oh, sweetie, I'm afraid I can't make any promises," Penny's teasing tone did its job, and the scientist's laughter rose an octave higher. "Why not here? What's wrong with this spot?"
But Leonard could no longer answer. Being tickled in such a sensitive spot definitely put him out of commission, and the teasing broke him completely.
"Oh, our genius can't handle a simple touch? What's wrong? A little ticklish? Use your brain to deal with it!"
As if he could use his brain right now. The only thing occupying his mind at the moment was the thought that this all tickled like hell.
When his laughter turned raspy, Penny stopped. Thoughts of asthma immediately kicked in, and she quickly handed the guy his inhaler.
"Are you okay? This all seems like a bit much for you..." The girl felt a little guilty. Maybe he didn't deserve this, but he shouldn't have laughed and squirmed so cutely!
After a couple of deep breaths, he just curled up on the couch and giggled softly. Having recovered a bit, he was finally able to answer, "If you do that in front of anyone, I'll die of embarrassment. I'm fine, I guess... But, hah, that was brutal. Was it all because of the remote?"
Penny noticed that even though she had already stopped, the physicist still looked terribly embarrassed and nervous. She thought about it all. He could have easily curled up. Crawled away. At least tried to stop it all! Heck, he hadn't even asked her to stop...
"I've had the remote for a while," she said, showing off the hard-won prize, but her thoughts were far from the show. "Why didn't you try to stop me?"
Leonard blushed even deeper and tried to hide his nervous smile with his hand. He carefully looked away, searching for an answer to her question. An answer that wouldn't make her think he was weird.
Failing to come up with anything good, he gave the first excuse that came to mind, "Um, well... You're just too strong for me!" He tried very hard to sound convincing, but didn't succeed much.
"Sweetie, I can tell when you're lying to me. I was barely holding you down, but you didn't even make an attempt." The gears in Penny's head began to turn again. A cute blush, a nervous smile, and zero attempts to resist...
"Oh my god, you like it!" The realization left Penny in a stupor for a short moment.
But it threw Leonard into an even greater stupor. He covered his face completely with his hands and groaned in embarrassment. Even through his hands, you could see he was red. Even his ears turned a bit pink.
"I'm right, aren't I?" the girl asked with interest and concern. In response, she got something completely unintelligible. This worried her even more.
"Talk to me! What happened? Earth to Leonard," she pulled his hands away from his face and looked straight into his eyes. "Answer me. Am I right?"
He nodded slowly and hesitantly.
"Why didn't you tell me about this before?" She was still a bit shocked. This was a day of discoveries.
"Because it's weird! And god, it's embarrassing! Do you think I'm crazy?" Anxiety was written all over his face. He thought it was all stupid and awkward. And why did he even like it? But Penny obviously thought otherwise.
"I accepted you with Star Wars and Star Trek. Accepting this won't be a problem at all. And it's not weird at all. Unusual, but not weird. It's actually pretty cute that you're literally helpless if I do this," a couple more pokes made him flinch again and put his hands out in front of him.
"Hey, hey! I'm having an important moment of confession here," he smiled, already looking more relaxed. She accepted him. A feeling of peace and joy washed over him. But her playful gaze still didn't bode well.
"Well, after your little confession, I can tickle you as much as I want and ignore your protests. How lovely!" At her words, the scientist noticeably tensed up and smiled involuntarily.
"I haven't even done anything yet. But since you don't mind!" She ran her fingers across his stomach, causing a muffled giggle.
"Da-ha-amn it, Penny! What if Sheldon shows up?"
"Well, then he'll just have to find out your little secret." After this phrase, the girl squeezed both of the guy's knees, causing a piercing squeal and loud, startled laughter.
"NO! Ple-he-he-ease, not the-he-he-ere!" Speaking proved difficult, making his pleas sound less pitiful than planned. Everything inside him tightened from the sensation, and he grabbed the nearest couch cushion.
"Why? I really like your reaction! It's cute, you have to accept it. Otherwise, I'll keep going."
A few minutes later, his asthma made itself known again, and Leonard had to admit that it wasn't weird at all and not in the least embarrassing.
It all ended with cuddles on the couch and a solemn oath not to tell Sheldon about it.
Hiiiiiii soo i just wanted to say that i just love your work! I read it in one sitting and it was amazing. Would love to see more chapters in the futuree! Take care( ≧∀≦)ノ
Hiii!! Thank you sm for your support. I never thought I'd get so many kind words from my community. I have at least 4 more chapters in mind and I don't think my imagination would stop there. But actually, I'd really appreciate any ideas people want me to write🙂↕️ Maybe I should really make a fandom list
First thing first. Thanks very much to @vqler for this wonderful art. Couple of years ago I'd never thought I'd get an art from my favourite artist but here we are. It was so nice to work with you, your art style is the best ♥️
<-Previous Next->
THIS CHAPTER IS HEAVY N$FW
Please don't it read it if you're not okay with it. I won't mark my blog as strictly n$fw because it'll probably be the only such fic here.
Alex tried to shift or free his hands. Where even was he?..
Actually, it didn't really matter. You don't exactly care to inspect your surroundings when hot, wet breath is brushing against your neck, and someone's neat ass is parked right on your lap.
From behind, warm, dry palms slid along his body from his armpits down to his thighs. Alex exhaled shiveringly. Every touch burned; his body felt scalding hot.
"Something wrong, champ?" a very familiar low voice purred in his ear. Alex couldn't answer; his tongue completely refused to cooperate.
Sharp nails traced up the inside of his thighs. Alex arched his lower back, but escaping was impossible. They kept holding him from behind by his sides, preventing him from even squirming. He couldn't help himself and let out a quiet laugh.
"So obedient today," a second voice praised, thick with a Spanish accent.
The nails returned, occasionally giving way to slender fingers. The hands crept closer and closer to his underwear, and Alex suddenly realized with stark clarity that he wasn't wearing any pants. He was about to voice his indignation over what they were doing to him, but a sudden burst of laughter knocked the wind right out of his lungs. He jerked sharply, but once again, absolutely nothing worked. What the hell.
He could feel insistent fingers digging into his ribs. Even worse was the voice in his ear.
"O-o-one, tw-o-o... How awkward, I lost count. Let's start over. O-o-one..."
Alex choked on his laughter and let his head drop onto the other man's shoulder. He didn't even want to break free anymore. A pleasant warmth spread through his stomach; his breathing was heavy, punctuated by occasional breathless laughs.
The hands that had been terrorizing his thighs switched to the creases between his leg and groin. Alex grew even louder, involuntarily jerking his pelvis.
"I like it when you laugh in my ear," Alex was certain he could come from that voice alone.
The tickling didn't stop for a single second. Done playing with his ribs, Elliot decided to move to his stomach. Alex turned his head, burying his face in Elliot's neck.
Alister had already slipped under his underwear, his fingers fluttering all around the coveted spot, though he hadn't touched it just yet.
"You're practically shaking, sweetness. You want it bad, don't you? Is now a good time? Come on, beg nicely."
Alex could only whimper. The rear front had no intention of resting. His neck was subjected to a new wave of affection: with one hand, Elliot lightly held his neck to keep him from pulling away, kissing him. Greedily, sucking at his skin in a way that would definitely leave a mark. El would love a mark on this pale skin. Or better yet, two. Even better, ten.
Alex tried to grab Alister by the wrists.
"What an impatient boy you are, Lexi. You're already dripping all over. What's wrong? Want me to help you with that?"
Alister's hand finally cupped his cock.
Alex opened his eyes, gasping for air. His ears were ringing. His heart was pounding somewhere in his throat. And his body... more than ever, he wanted those hands back, wanted it to never end. He craved that warmth; his boxers felt suffocatingly tight and wet. Damn it, he really was dripping.
Only now did he finally realize what had happened. He'd had a dream. And not just any dream, but a highly erotic one, to put it mildly. And to top it off, with two guys at once.
His body had clearly decided that whatever happened between him and Alister on that mat wasn't enough, painting the rest of the picture on its own and painting it with terrifying generosity, heavily laced with pure lust.
Shame washed over him in a sickening, sticky wave, but the arousal was stronger. His hand instinctively reached down, slipping beneath the waistband of his briefs.
His fingers brushed against the smooth head. His thumb traced his frenulum, making Alex exhale shakily. Wrapping his hand around his hard cock, he stroked it slowly. Alister's image flashed in his mind again. He placed his other hand on his chest, squeezing. Elliot would have done exactly that. Alex groaned long and low with pleasure. He didn't rush, trying to fully recreate his fantasy.
The images from his dream blurred before his eyes again. Alister was setting the pace. Harsh, almost painful. It was as if he wanted to bring Alex to his peak as quickly and efficiently as possible. Right at the moment he was closest, his hand stopped. Digging his heels into the mattress, Alex exhaled through tightly gritted teeth in sheer desperation. No, he wasn't going to finish this early.
Alex kept pleasuring himself, closing his eyes tightly to prevent the visions of his dream from dissolving into the morning twilight. A finger brushed his nipple, and a fresh wave of sparks jolted through his brain. He gripped the base of his cock tighter and tried to catch his breath. Too soon.
After a few seconds, he couldn't take it anymore and picked up the pace again. Alex kept rubbing the head. Fingers slightly calloused scratched the sensitive skin, tickling it. The sensation made his vision go dark with pleasure as the orgasm rolled in with increasing insistence. His hand moved up and down under his underwear. Alex bit down on the flesh of his palm and let out a loud, shuddering breath. Warm white fluid spilled over his hand.
"Pathetic," Alex thought, standing over the sink at four in the morning. His boxers were covered in cum, his hands too, and his face was as red as a schoolboy's after his first time. Why on earth had his body rebelled like this?
How was he supposed to look them in the eye after this?! What a shameful, degenerate mess! And with both of them at once! Seriously, what kind of decent person imagines themselves in a threesome, let alone on the bottom? Exactly, Alex didn't think a decent one did.
The worst part was that it made him want to go to the club with triple the intensity. His body wasn't just asking; it was practically demanding a sequel. Absolutely with those two, and absolutely at the same time.
He repeated it like a mantra: "It's a stress response. It's a stress response. It's a stress response..." Though what kind of damn stress was this? Stress gives you headaches and makes your hair fall out; it doesn't give you a hard-on.
He crashed into his teammates at practice with extra zeal. He didn't dare go to the club just yet, much as he wanted to, so he had to use every means necessary to beat out everything that didn't fit the criteria of "decent." He worked himself to total exhaustion and crashed into bed straight after practice, ensuring no erotic nonsense could find its way into his dreams. His teammates chalked it all up to the upcoming big match. Look at the captain putting in work, training hard. Isn't he an excellent role model?
He held out strong for nearly a week, but a humiliating defeat to his own libido awaited him.
He returned to the club practically dead on his feet. The constant tension, both sexual and ordinary muscle strain, was taking its toll. To make matters worse, he was terribly anxious about seeing the heroes of his fantasies. Just the phrasing made him flinch. What was he, a schoolgirl daydreaming about her favorite character? But there was no other way to put it.
Alex was already walking toward their usual spot at the table when he spotted Alister and Elliot. They were sitting on a mat by the wall, talking. Alex couldn't hear a word they were saying, but just the sight of them made his face flush. The last thing he needed was to blush. He was a grown man, for God's sake!
They noticed him, too. It was hard to miss him.
"Captain!" El called out, gesturing with his hand. Alex obediently trudged over to them.
"Where are Kill and Jess?"
"Jess is on a shift, she'll be late, and Kill, unfortunately, doesn't report to us. He's like a cat. Disappears for God knows how long and pops back up out of nowhere. Take a seat," Elliot patted the mat between them.
"You look tense. Look at those bags under your eyes... Is there anything you want to share with us, Lexi?" Alister reached out with a hint of concern, gently brushing his finger over the dark circle under his eye. Alex softly nudged his hand away.
Sure. Why not tell them that you imagine two of your... whatever they were, in compromising positions, and then happily jerk off to it. Great conversation starter, just perfect. Thanks, Alister.
But Alex only replied:
"My coach has been driving us ragged, we have a game coming up."
Alister put on an understanding expression and nodded sagely.
Elliot just smirked and squeezed his leg. Alex practically jumped. They just had to get handsy.
"Are you sure you're okay? You're awfully jumpy for someone who's just tired," El remarked.
"And your cheeks are pink. Alexander, this is atypical even for you. Are you getting sick?" Alister reached for him again, this time to check his temperature.
Alex only blushed deeper. Why did they have to be so perceptive?
"Come on, spill it, jock," Elliot poked him in the ribs. No way, it was like they conspired against him today!
"I'm just really glad to see you guys!" Alex recoiled as if scalded. And he wasn't even lying. He was so glad that he was practically aching down there.
Alister looked at the two of them and uttered:
"¡Todo esto es porque siempre le estás buscando las cosquillas!" and then he smiled like an idiot.
"Sabes que no entendió el juego de palabras, ¿verdad?" Alex didn't understand a single thing, but Elliot clearly found the phrase amusing too.
"Is that something I'm not supposed to hear?" Alex raised an eyebrow.
"You wouldn't get it, Lex," Elliot leaned against his shoulder, speaking directly into his ear again. What kind of habit was that? Did he do that with everyone? How did people even talk to him? Well, people who weren't Alex.
"You're all red again, don't change the subject," Alister just couldn't let it go.
"Maybe you want us to find out for ourselves?" Now this was entering dangerous territory. Elliot's tone boded no good.
And just like that, he was lying with his back against Elliot's torso, nestled comfortably between his legs. Some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. Should he go buy a lottery ticket or something?
Naturally, Elliot started first. He had zero patience.
His hands slipped under his T-shirt with surprising ease, despite all of Alex's efforts. He automatically tried to crawl away, but at that exact moment, Elliot gleefully dug into his sides. From fleeing, he switched to resisting, but you try resisting him. It felt like trying to push off a playful lion: if he does let you go, it's only to suddenly grab you again. And you couldn't budge the bastard an inch.
His nerves regarding who was doing this only heightened Alex's sensitivity. Naturally, Alister found himself a perfect seat - Alex's thighs. Where else would he sit?
"So what's the matter, Alexander?" Alister drummed his fingertips impatiently against his stomach.
"Calm ho-ho-down your i-hi-hi-diot first."
"Idiot, calm down, don't interrupt our conversation," he waved a hand at Elliot with a tone that said, "Wait, peasant, can't you see the master is speaking?"
"Al, you better not push your luck, or I won't care about the color of your wristband," El snapped back, though he pulled his hands out from under the T-shirt.
"Feel like talking now?"
"I've already said everything," Alex snapped. He was doing a stellar job keeping a straight face. Really impressive, considering his stomach was tied in such tight knots that he could barely keep himself from squirming.
"What you said wasn't particularly convincing. You've had practices before, but you never came back from them looking this wild."
"Do you know what we do to liars, Alex, mm? Especially those who lie straight to our faces so blatantly and terribly."
Alex sucked in his stomach, as if that would help against an attack.
"Lexi, I'm counting to three. Confess, or we will be forced to take action," Alister said in a tone far too serious for such an absurd situation.
"Oh, I love that part," Elliot chipped in ominously. "Come on, Lex. O-o-one..."
His hands hovered over Alex's tense body. He wiggled his fingers, taking immense pleasure in the expression on his victim's face.
Alex closed his eyes, but not watching the catastrophe approach turned out to be even more nerve-wracking, so he opened them, awaiting the attack with anticipation.
"Guys, come on, what about per-he-personal boundaries?" Alex simply couldn't suppress a nervous giggle.
"Their boundaries, cariño, are blurred in the dark."
"And nobody canceled the safeword, dummy. Where were we? Tw-o-o..."
Alex tried to pull his legs up, forcing Alister to shift closer to his stomach, right onto his crotch. The terror on Alex's face was mistaken for anticipation. This was the end, absolutely the end. Now they would start their dirty business, Alex would start squirming, and Alister would end up rubbing his ass all over him. If this kept up, a hard-on was only a matter of time. And judging by the pace, not a lot of time at all.
But the guys didn't see anything provocative about the position.
"Last chance," Alister crooned. Alex just shook his head.
"Three!" Oh, with what sheer delight Elliot dug into his ribs.
Alex held out as best as he could. His chest arched high, his cheeks puffed out. Was he an athlete or what? He locked his pelvis in place and tried not to move too much. Maybe he'd get lucky?
He completely failed to account for Alister's mischievous hands. With the persistence of a seasoned interrogator, Alister launched into a proper enhanced interrogation. That ought to be illegal, by the way! And Alex felt exactly why on his own skin. Tickling someone's hip bones is a literal crime. His plan to hold out and remain motionless failed miserably.
Elliot's hands roamed freely under his T-shirt, lightly scratching his skin with dull nails.
"DON'T-ha-ha-HA-HA!"
The screams only rippled Elliot up, and Alister was casting some rather predatory glances. Alex began to think that mercy truly wasn't on the table. The thought flashed somewhere between "please, just not the armpits" and "I beg you, not the stomach."
Alister traced a line with a single finger through the light fuzz on his stomach down to his belly button, circling it. Alex whimpered, unable to stop laughing.
"Leave me alone-hehe..."
"Refusing to testify automatically counts as a confession of guilt in the eyes of the investigation," judging by his tone, Elliot was smirking. Easy for him to laugh.
"The defendant is resisting," Alister noted as he was jolted upward again. What a... wild stallion.
El rubbed his cheek against his neck, but the tenderness was deceptive. His hands immediately darted into his armpits.
The sensation was unbearable and, because of that, deathly arousing. It couldn't go on like this.
"STO-HO-HO-HO-OP!" Alex roared, "I'LL TELL YOU EV-HE-HE-HE-ERYTHING!"
Elliot and Alister both stopped instantly. Were they really that interested?
Alex gave himself enough time to catch his breath. He needed to act as rationally as possible and try to minimize contact with...
"So, Lex? We're waiting for an answer."
Elliot gave Alex's cheek an expectant pinch, trying to coax him to speak.
Alex stuck out his tongue.
"Oh-ho-ho," yeah, he was probably a dead man now. That was super rational, of course. Not foolish at all.
"Have you ever heard the parable about not sawing off the branch you're sitting on?" Alister seemed genuinely surprised that someone was digging their own grave so stubbornly. And they'd given him a chance!
Alex just drilled him with a stubborn glare. Sheer recklessness and bravado...
Though Elliot actually liked the response. The more excuses to tickle him, the better.
There was no warning this time. All Alex managed to see was Elliot's hands flashing before his face. The next second, his wrists were pinned above his head.
"Come on, no way, guys!" Alex's eyes scanned the club in a panic, as if hoping someone would help him, but who would care?
He tried to suck in his stomach, but that didn't stop Alister's nails from raking across the taut, sensitive skin. The muscles under his fingers contracted wildly, putting his appetizing abs on full display.
"Ali-hi-hi-hister!"
"What's wrong, sweetheart?"
Alex wanted to reply, but at that moment, Elliot blew a raspberry right on his neck, and he dissolved into laughter again, trying to shield his neck.
"Alexander, you should start talking," Alister poked him right in the belly button, causing Alex to make a series of amusing noises.
"Ho-ha-ha-w?! Sto-he-he-op tickling me!"
"Figure it out. Our trust in you has been compromised."
"No-hi-hi-thing hap-he-pened!"
"Well, look at that, you're dead wrong again," Elliot concluded.
His doom was sealed. El freed one of his hands and finally reached for his armpits.
Alex roared, laughing loudly and shaking his head. Not a single thought remained in his mind.
"Who do we have here that's so ti-"
"Elliot, hold on," Alister waved a hand thoughtfully.
"You're always stopping me from going all out today," El grumbled.
Alister clicked his tongue at him and turned to Alex:
"Cariño, joking aside, is there nothing you want to discuss with us?"
Alex couldn't find the words to answer. He couldn't even bring himself to look at them.
Elliot exchanged a glance with Alister. Alister shifted his weight, making Alex choke on the air.
They both stared at him expectantly.
"Uhh... Well, you... I dreamed about you..."
Alister made a hand gesture indicating they were waiting for the rest.
"Both of you..."
"Dreamed about us. Very interesting. In that way?"
"In that way," Alex breathed out, as if standing before a leap into an abyss.
Silence fell, and a few seconds later, a voice came from behind:
"Want us, Captain?" he purred into his ear.
In Elliot's eyes, Alex saw a hungry glint. It was slightly terrifying. A couple of minutes ago, El had been in his typical laid-back mood, and now it looked like he was about to devour him whole.
"Not here," Alex tried to crawl away.
"In a private room?"
"In a private room," Alister confirmed.
All Alex could do was stand up, not without Elliot's help, and follow them. Everything around him felt like slow motion; arousal always acted on him like a narcotic haze.
The moment the heavy door shut out the noise of the club, Alex seemed to wake up. But there wasn't much time to process what was happening. Alister gave him a soft shove in the chest, and he fell right back into Elliot's arms.
They sank down somewhere. Onto something soft, maybe a sofa or another mat. Alex felt his T-shirt being pulled off insistently and obediently raised his arms. As soon as the unneeded piece of clothing was tossed aside, his hands were locked above his head again. This time in handcuffs.
"Alexander," Alister settled over him comfortably again, "before we begin, you need to understand that we are going to go further than usual. Are you okay with that? Are you ready?"
"Ready," Alex nodded. How could he not be ready when his jeans felt suffocatingly tight, and he was staring at the two most attractive guys he had ever met?
"Alex, this is no joke," the last time he'd seen Elliot look this serious was during their conversation after the ring. "We might be rougher during this, are you sure that-"
"I fucking said I'm ready!" Alex yelled.
"Your wish is our command," Alister raised his hands.
The leather cuffs were soft but perfectly secure. Next to them, Alex felt a button. Safety was accounted for at every step here.
Elliot kissed his neck deeply, his hands wandering across his torso, brushing over his nipples every now and then. He was creeping closer to his armpits.
Alister, for his part, was stroking more than tickling. The gentle touches made him want to curl inward, sending goosebumps skating over his skin. Shifting position slightly, he settled between his legs. His lips brushed against his collarbones, chest, and stomach. Alex tried to suck in his stomach again, but that didn't stop Alister from continuing to kiss and drag his tongue across his skin.
Suddenly, he burst out laughing loudly again and tried to curl up. Elliot, completely unbothered and at a measured pace, moved his fingers against the skin of his armpit. Alex shook his head as if that could save him from the tickling.
"No-ho-ho-ho-o," a grin spread from ear to ear, wide enough to split his face in half.
Alister's hands moved to his fly, carefully catching the fastener. Alex tensed up again. Slowly, savoring the process, Alister unzipped the jeans and finally slid them off, leaving Alex in just his boxers. He groaned in relief, even though he realized how pathetic the wet spot on his underwear looked.
"So responsive," Alister's palm covered the bulge, squeezing lightly, and Alex let out another long groan.
Alister slipped his hands under the waistband, and Alex's vision swam with arousal. Crossing every line of decency, Elliot began to literally knead his ribs, making him lose track of his senses. On one hand, it was ticklish; on the other, having hands in such an intimate spot kept making Alex whimper.
He didn't even notice his last piece of clothing being stripped away, leaving him completely defenseless. Alister slid down lower, his lips pressing against the smooth head. Alex chuckled breathlessly, now shamelessly moaning right into Elliot's ear.
The Spaniard squeezed his balls at the base of his cock, cutting off any path to a quick finish. With his other hand, he stroked the inside of his thigh. From behind, Alex could feel hot breath against the back of his neck. Elliot squeezed his chest, playing with his nipples: alternately pinching and tickling the buds with a single finger.
Alex arched up when Alister suddenly took his entire length into his mouth without flinching. He had expected at least some foreplay, but no one was planning on giving him time to prepare. Alister's skilled tongue ran firmly up and down his length, while the hand that had just been resting peacefully on his thigh slithered like a snake behind his knee, threateningly dancing over the sensitive skin. Startled, Alex jerked his leg sharply and groaned, a sound mixed with laughter, but it didn't stop anyone.
Elliot simply bit his ear - something he'd clearly been dreaming of for a long time, judging by how often his lips used to hover millimeters away from it, whispering things. His fingers kept amusing themselves with his broad, soft chest, driving Alex completely out of his mind.
Alister's sharp nails lightly skimmed over his balls without stopping the tickling behind his knee, and Alex had to bite his lip to keep from squeaking.
He tried to jerk his hands, but only succeeded in making the handcuffs clank loudly. He wanted to grab Alister's hands and finally find release, but the opportunity just wasn't there.
"A-a-ha-lister," stringing sounds into words was barely happening; his tongue refused to obey entirely. Did he want to say something? It was easy to forget when a fresh bite or a fiery kiss landed on his neck.
With a distinct wet sound, Alister pulled away from Alex and surveyed the scene. The view before him was mesmerizing: two meters of pure muscle, unable to string a single word together. Entirely flushed, curls unraveled and scattered across his face, his chest heaving heavily, breaking out in red patches from the sheer excitement.
The sight gave him a massive hard-on, and judging by his partner's intense expression, he was barely keeping himself in his pants, either.
Regardless, this did nothing to ease Alex's plight. Passion hadn't made them any more merciful. Alister still wouldn't let him come, and now he decided to tease him mercilessly. With his other hand, he stroked the dripping cock again, stopping at the head. Using the nail of his index finger, he began tracing circular motions around the tip, slick with pre-cum, making Alex writhe like a fish out of water. The sensation was unbearable, unreal; Alex lost all control over his body. All he could do was lie there and take it as jolts like electricity shot through him. From behind, Elliot groaned in impatience, burying his face deeper into his neck. Seeing Alex like this was mind-blowing.
Alister gave him a few more preventative scrapes with his nails down the entire length. He was dying for it himself by now, and Alex was practically tearing up from overstimulation. He couldn't delay any longer. Sucking down tightly on the cock again, he began moving his head vigorously up and down.
Alex thrashed again; the overstimulation hit him just as hard as the tickling, and he was nearly screaming from the sensations.
Alister finally let go. It didn't take even ten seconds for him to come. Cum shot out instantly from the already hyper-stimulated organ. It wasn't a surprise for Alister, and he took it easily, swallowing.
He and Elliot looked at each other with wild eyes, also trying to catch their breath. That was quite the experience.
The problem manifested almost immediately, both figuratively and quite literally. Alex hadn't even recovered from his intense release, but the two of them were already so worked up they were about to explode. How, pray tell, do you explain that to a person who still has white spots in their vision from an orgasm?
Elliot figured it out first, carefully unhooking Alex from overhead. He lightly slapped his cheek with his palm.
"Hey, jock, wake up, you can't just leave us hanging like this," Elliot's voice sounded a bit strained, though maybe the wild arousal was to blame.
Alex blinked a few times, clearly struggling to snap out of it. He stretched his stiff arms, took in the situation, and reached for Alister's fly. Dressing up was clearly not on Alex's agenda. It took a bit of maneuvering, but he rolled onto his stomach. Now his face was buried right in Alister's crotch, while a plump, freckled ass was arched right up in front of Elliot. Neither of the guys intended to pass up their position.
Managing the zipper and the brief layer of underwear, Alex got to work. Alister's cock wasn't thick, around 16 centimeters long, his tanned pubic area cleanly shaved. Al groaned loudly right away, burying his hands in the soft curls but without pressing down on the back of his head. The pace suited him perfectly.
A lot of interesting things were happening at the back, too. Elliot might be a sadist, but he wasn't a monster; he respected his partner. Alex felt cold, slick lube. Elliot carefully slid two fingers inside, stretching him quite gently, if a bit unhurriedly. He wanted to start as soon as possible. Preferably a couple of minutes ago.
When El found his prostate, Alex groaned right into Alister, who gripped his hair even tighter. He was beginning to doubt his ability to last long like this.
Elliot finally finished preparing him and, having slipped a condom on, began to enter him. Alex involuntarily tensed up, and El stroked his back to soothe him.
"Come on, Lex, don't tense up. Gently now," here he acted with total deliberation, taking his time so as not to cause Alex pain with a sudden thrust.
This caused Alex to lose his rhythm every now and then, making Alister curl his toes and tug at his hair to make him bring the intensity down.
Gradually, El picked up speed, increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts. He entered harder and harder, making Alex gag slightly on Alister.
Consequently, Alex decided to quicken his pace too. Naturally, nobody asked Alister. Lex worked his tongue diligently, holding Alister by the hips. His face contorted with pleasure; he tried to pull Alex away from him again, but Lex stubbornly stayed put, pressing his freckled nose into the tanned stomach. Soon, Al came, collapsing onto his back. Alex, being a polite person, swallowed.
And while Alister was already done, Elliot was only just getting into it. He chose Alex's sides as his main source of amusement. A little kneading there, and Alex would clamp down tightly around him, laughter breaking through his groans. These pathetic twitches riled Elliot up immensely, and with a wild fire in his eyes, he kept hammering in faster. Already hyper-sensitive after his orgasm, Alex began to harden again. The second time promised to be even more shattering than the first.
Lust and power blinded him. How long had he dreamed of this? Ever since he first saw Alex at the club? Since he finally managed to gain complete control in the ring? His desire only grew with every meeting; he honestly didn't know how he'd lasted this long without pinning his athlete down on a table somewhere. And the signs he'd been giving! There wasn't a day where his hand wasn't on Alex's waist, but Lex seemed to think it was completely innocent and very heterosexual. Elliot was ready to make up for all the nights spent fantasizing about this ass.
Alex slapped his palm against the floor, hinting that he wouldn't last long. Not a problem, Elliot found a solution! He followed Alex's earlier example and gripped his balls at the base. Alex groaned painfully; there was absolutely no way to endure a fresh wave of overstimulation, and a fine tremor began to shake his body.
"I can't!" Alex felt tears welling up in his eyes.
"But I can."
Elliot's other hand dropped down too. He began rubbing the head of the already constricted organ with his palm. Alex screamed, squeezing his fists until his knuckles turned white.
He was already cursing Elliot's stamina. The guy didn't alter his frantic pace and still hadn't come. How was that even possible?!
He didn't have time to wonder for long. Elliot let go, and Alex came instantly. It was like he was unplugged: he went completely limp, held up only by Elliot's hands. Was El planning to pull out? Unlikely.
Thrust, thrust, thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin seemed to echo forever. Alex could no longer distinguish the sensations, nor did he try to track whether he had hardened again or finished. His mind was an absolute, all-consuming void.
Elliot amused himself with his body for a few more minutes until, with a quiet sigh, he finally came.
Alister came to his senses near the end. He looked at the two limp bodies beside him. Well, quite a successful first threesome...
Elliot, the tireless terminator, got up and looked around literally a minute later. His eyes met Alister's. They both looked at Alex. He was just lying there, not moving. They sat down together to wait.
"Did you overdo it?" Alister asked with a hint of worry.
"I hope not. He seemed like he was holding up fine."
But time passed, Alex wasn't getting up, and the tension grew. Finally, Alister decided to check his pulse and breathing.
"¿Che razza di bestia sei?" Alister pressed his fingers against the other's wrist.
"I didn't think it would turn out like this," Elliot quietly defended himself.
"Pulse is normal, breathing is steady. He's sleeping. Sleeping very soundly."
"We wore the poor guy out," they exchanged a relieved look.
Since Alex clearly had no intention of waking up anytime soon, it was decided that Alister would stay behind to pay for the private room time, while Elliot would be in charge of taking care of Alex.
El handled his task perfectly; draping Alex's arm over his neck, he managed to lift and carry him. Not on the first try, of course the guy weighed quite a bit but he managed to lug him over to the table.
Everyone was already waiting for them there. Jessica was the first to pounce.
"What did you do?!" she hissed in a panic, instantly rushing over to the sofa where they had laid Alex down.
"He's just sleeping!" Elliot raised his hands.
"Sleeping, my foot! How did you drive a person to unconsciousness, you absolute fools?!" Jess didn't let up, scolding them.
"We didn't do anything crazy, we were just having some fun," Alister tried to interject guiltily.
"Bring some water," Jess snapped without even looking at them. Elliot obediently trotted off to get water.
Kill, after hearing Jess's verdict of "Vitals are normal, but if it were up to me, I'd kill you," calmed down as well.
"Yeah, this is definitely a new record for you guys. I don't remember anyone being brought back passed out from a private room."
"He's been at practice all week, he hasn't slept a wink!" Elliot kept trying to clear his good name. "They have a big game coming up."
Alex really was wildly exhausted after a week of actively avoiding his own thoughts through an inhuman training schedule. After the long-awaited release, he finally let go. That was the result.
They had to take Alex home to sleep it off, no matter how you looked at it. Alister called a cab, while Elliot picked Alex up again. Jess, though she still looked at them with judgment, let them go. They were friends, after all; she trusted them.
Half the ride went by in silence, accompanied by Alex's peaceful snoring on Elliot's shoulder. Alister broke the silence.
"And what are we going to do about all this?"
"What else can we do? Split him down the middle? Someone gets the bottom half, someone gets the top?"
"Not funny at all," Alister nudged him.
"You, my friend, are looking at this from the wrong angle. You and I make a real team. What if... we join forces? We're trying to divide someone who wants to belong to both of us."
Alister grew thoughtful.
"Are you proposing a relationship? To me? To him?"
"To us."
"We'll have to ask Alex first..." Alister said, caught off guard.
"We'll ask him tomorrow. I want to know your opinion."
Alister pinched the bridge of his nose. On one hand, it sounded like a massive gamble. On the other, Elliot was an excellent partner to him in all their delicate endeavors, not to mention a very hot man. He needed both him and Alex. And the prospect of a "+1" addition pleased him more than it fazed him.
Before the main text I want to say thank you to @ticklepinions for the support. Really, I never thought I would get so many kind words but our community never disappoints me. You have no idea, I go like AFYDJSEUTXC every time I see you reblog my writing and yap about my characters 🥹♥️
Женя, ради бога, ну-ка нахуй с моей башни, не читай
Summаry: Ben isn't feeling well about his true nature.
Words count: ~2300
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Morning on the Triskelion began as it always did. Feeding, training, lessons. It felt strange to be in school when it seemed you were no longer a teenager. But what was even stranger was that Ben Reilly had never actually been a teenager. The Scarlet Spider, an artificial creation, was a symbiote who never had a past - a fact he had only recently discovered. Everything was hazy; derealization hit harder than ever at the thought that he wasn't human. Did he feel like a real person, or would he never understand what it was like to truly live? He didn't even have a childhood. Was this even his personality, or just an algorithm of biological code? These oppressive thoughts were interrupted by an annoying but familiar voice.
"Scarlet? You know, decent students actually go to class," a face in a red-and-black mask hung directly in front of his, upside down, having descended from the ceiling on a web with interest.
"Don't lecture me, kid," Scarlet Spider replied. His voice only seemed to lose its edge when he spoke to Aunt May.
It wasn't that Peter wasn't used to his tone, but there had been something particularly embittered about it since Octavius revealed the truth of Ben's origin. The Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man understood why Ben acted this way: the team’s mistrust after his betrayal, a crushing sense of guilt, and the shock of realizing he was a symbiote. But Scarlet was truly painful to watch. He had been walking around like the ghost of Hamlet’s father for the past few days, drifting further away from the team. He still had the strength and the skills, but teamwork was becoming increasingly difficult. As a leader, this worried Spidey; as a friend, it worried Peter Parker even more.
Spider-Man hopped down and pulled off his mask, clearly trying to set an example.
"Let’s head to the room, otherwise we might get into a real sticky situation," Peter said. It wasn't clear if the pun was intentional or just a soft attempt to drag Ben away for a talk. Reilly wasn't a fan of heart-to-hearts; he saw them as attempts to expose his weaknesses. But then again, he could trust Spidey, right? Without much protest, Ben allowed himself to be grabbed by the forearm and led away. "Away" turned out to be Peter's office or so it seemed, judging by the mess and the piles of SHIELD paperwork. Impressive.
"They gave you an office?" Ben finally removed his mask, revealing the large scar across the center of his face.
"Well, being a SHIELD agent is pretty prestigious," Peter said, quickly clearing a stack of papers from the desk. "Though rumors say you’ve been skipping training. And I’ve noticed you’re pulling away from the team, even though we’re trying to trust you again..." Such a serious Spider-Man impressed even Reilly, though he sat down on a hard chair and tried to maintain his usual guarded exterior.
"It doesn’t look like they’re ready for me in the Web Warriors again."
"Are you ready?" Peter asked gently. The wrong tone could easily spook the Scarlet Spider.
"What do you mean?" Ben understood, but his unreadiness could stem from several things, and he wanted to know what he was being accused of.
"Honestly? Everything," Spidey declared. "I don't want to see you like this. We should discuss it, you know you can trust-"
"No," Peter was cut off by a sharp, firm answer. "I’ve used up enough of your trust."
Parker sighed in frustration. Why did it have to be so difficult? Ben was always complicated, but this had stopped being funny. He reminded Peter of... well, perhaps himself, though Peter didn't want to admit that.
"Listen, Scarlet, that’s exactly what we need to talk about. I understand-"
"No," he was interrupted again.
"Do I need to make it an order?" Peter was surprised by how quickly he’d adapted to his SHIELD authority. He didn't know he had it in him.
"You? To me? Kid, I think you’re confused," Scarlet mocked.
Peter waved his SHIELD agent ID in front of him. Smug teenager. Ben rolled his eyes.
"Your little paper isn't very convincing."
"Scarlet, I'm supposed to be the one acting like that," Peter countered. The comparison to a teenager worked; Ben sensed something childish in his own behavior.
"What exactly do you want to know?" Ben asked much more quietly, without the usual hostility. It was more of a defense mechanism than genuine anger.
"I want you to... tell me how you feel. I thought you were dead, and then I get you back and you’re still acting like you’re not quite alive. I don't want to play Aunt May, but do you have any idea how much I worried? How I mourned?" Peter spoke with raw emotion, realizing only after the words left his mouth that he was likely adding to the guilt of the already depressed spider.
Ben thinned his lips.
"I didn't think it was necessary to come back. I caused enough problems without showing up and making things complicated again," he said in that same sincere, quiet, serious tone.
"I... that's not what I meant. When I first saw you, you seemed so much more, well, alive..." Peter didn't intend the pun; it just happened. He would have been proud of himself if the situation weren't so grim. "But after the rescue from that sunken Hydra ship, you just went dark. You can talk to me. Please?" Spidey tried the puppy-dog eyes.
Ben was silent for a long time, weighing the offer. When he finally spoke, it was so sudden that Spider-Man almost jumped.
"I don't even know if I'm living. I'm a creature, a symbiote, not a human. I can't say anything for certain about my life, if you can even call it that. I'm lost in it. And that's not even all the problems from the last month. Without a clear sense of self, I feel like I'm just going crazy." The whole tirade took about a minute as he struggled to find the right words.
Peter sat across from him, trying to digest everything. He wasn't sure how to comfort a friend suffering over being a symbiote. But he didn't have to; once Ben started talking, the words poured out.
"And that’s not counting the fact that I essentially betrayed you and May, my only family, and then came back. Who needs that here? People aren't ready to trust me, and I don't blame them. I don't understand you, Peter. I'm the ultimate bastard who wormed his way into your trust and compromised everything dear to you. I literally stabbed you in the back, and here you are, trying to understand and ease my suffering." His words dripped with regret, protectiveness, guilt, and genuine confusion.
Parker sat back and thought.
"Ben, I can't deny what you did. And I can't deny that it was... well, not great. But the choice you made in the end changes everything. You make the choices that define who you are. And with your last heroic act, you showed you aren't a traitor. You chose us. You chose me. That's what matters. You know me, I believe people make mistakes and deserve second chances. Especially you. I don't blame you."
Ben sat still for a long time. His eyes showed he wasn't entirely convinced, but he looked relieved. Significantly relieved.
"I guess even symbiotes make mistakes and deserve second chances," he said, trying to lower the tension. Peter caught the cue.
"You know, you’re nothing like Venom or Carnage, no offense to Flash and MJ. You don't need a host; you're an individual." Peter noticed his words carried weight. Serious weight. He continued. "Maybe you just need to feel... more human? Feel your own body?"
Reilly raised an eyebrow. "I feel like nothing good will come of this, but it's not like I have many other options." His voice sounded much lighter than the pained tone from moments ago.
Spidey’s eyes practically lit up. There he was—the true scientist, or as Flash would say, the nerd. This was a unique symbiote specimen that he could also help through his research.
"Can you take off the suit?"
"Kid, what are you doing?" It sounded much more playful than Ben's usual flat tone. Surprisingly, this guy could be thawed out.
Peter chuckled. "I mean, assuming you have something on under the suit. I don't need 'harassment' added to my reputation as a 'wall-crawling menace.'"
Under the suit was a t-shirt and, surprisingly, shorts. It was the first time Peter had seen him without the full costume or long pants. It was clear why he preferred coverage—there were plenty of scars.
"Mind if I study you a bit?" Peter sat on the same seat, allowing Ben to lean back on his elbows.
"Be careful," Reilly said, meaningfully twitching his eyebrows.
And Peter began. He was genuinely interested in how the symbiote's texture differed. It was more like a human with symbiote DNA than a full symbiote mimicking a human. Peter shared this conclusion with Ben. The words seemed to calm him, though he admitted he still felt strange in his own body.
The teenager sat in thought. He didn't think Ben had been spoiled by physical affection. It was doubtful Octavius held cuddle sessions every Tuesday or patted him on the head for a job well done. Given that Scarlet was created with the consciousness of an adult but hadn't actually lived long enough to gain life experience, this was a great opportunity for both Spiders to get to know each other.
"Can I continue? I think I have an idea."
"As long as it helps, go ahead." Despite his feigned disinterest, Reilly clearly enjoyed spending time with the boy.
Peter smiled. Ah, naive Scarlet had no idea about his "diabolical" plan. Spidey tentatively placed his hands on Ben's ribs and gave a gentle squeeze. Ben clearly didn't understand the touch or his own reaction.
"What are you doing?"
The teenager paused for a second. Could Scarlet really not understand the concept of tickling? Did he even know what it was? Either way, Peter wasn't going to explain. Well, not yet.
"This? It's a type of special massage." Spider-Man tried squeezing his ribs in several places. On the lower ribs, the reaction was stronger; Ben tried to twist away.
"That... feels weird. You sure this is safe?"
A grin spread across Peter's face. Reilly truly had no idea what was happening. It was magnificent.
"Weird? What do you feel?" Parker asked with mock seriousness.
"A desire to move your hands and laugh. And it’s also... kind of nice? It's very contradictory. What are you doing?" Ben watched with interest as Peter’s fingers moved lower to his sides and stomach.
"You know, you don't have to hold back your reaction. I'm *studying* you, remember?" Oh, Peter felt like a true evil genius. With those words, his fingers began to knead Scarlet's sides and belly. Ben jerked awkwardly and let out a sound like a half-chuckle before bursting into a silly giggle. It was a sound Parker had never heard from him.
"Wow, Mr. Serious actually knows how to giggle?"
Ben, for his part, was lost in the sensations, not knowing if he should run, push Peter's hands away, or just stay put. He ended up just squirming and laughing.
Eventually, the Spider gave the exhausted, laughing Reilly a break. Ben shook his head.
"That is the most contradictory thing I've ever experienced. But you were right, it helps. I literally can't think about anything else while you're doing that." Ben looked surprisingly happy for someone who had just been tickled. Peter smiled.
"Mind if I do it again?"
Ben nodded, looking adorably happy. Peter’s heart melted seeing the block of ice melt away like this. And it really did seem to help Scarlet "feel" his body. Amazing—a symbiote who was ticklish. He definitely needed to try this on the others.
He teasingly ran a fingernail along Ben's side, watching him wince and pull in his stomach. Peter's other hand began squeezing Scarlet's thigh in different spots until it hit a "lethal" spot just above the knee, nearly earning Peter a knee to the ribs. But Spider-strength helped him hold Reilly’s leg as he continued to squeeze that sensitive spot.
Ben looked ready to shriek. His laughter jumped a few octaves and he punched the sofa, but he didn't say a word against it or make a real move to stop him. This only encouraged Peter.
"You actually like this, don't you? You're not even trying to hide how much you want to just relax and laugh." The teenager "scratched" the hero under his knee, hearing such a ridiculous sound that he started laughing himself.
Ben lay there, taking all the tickling Peter gave him, and seemed not to mind at all. Though he couldn't quite handle Peter’s "killer" fingers unceremoniously kneading the lethal spot right by his hip bones. He demanded Peter stop immediately and lay there for a while, unable to speak or even move.
Finally, a quiet, calm voice broke the silence.
"Thanks, Pete. For the talk... and for this 'massage.' Maybe you could do that sometimes when I... you know, lose my way?" It was clear how awkward it was for him to ask.
"Of course, I’d be happy to. Just don't stay silent next time. Now, you should probably get some sleep and come to the Web Warriors' training. The team will be waiting for the 'new' you." Peter smiled.
They shared a quick, Peter-initiated hug before parting ways. Parker was pleased with his work. Someday, he’d definitely tell Ben that it’s called being "ticklish."
Alex had always glanced at it, but he never thought he’d actually use it. After all, why? To come here and just... watch? A couple of weeks ago, that would have sounded like nonsense, but now Alex was seriously considering just being an observer, not relying solely on the wild endorphin rush that flooded his blood whenever someone from his group started tickling him.
The perennial receptionist, just like during his first time here, waited patiently for him to make a choice. Blue felt like home now, and Alistair insisted it suited him perfectly... To hell with Alistair. No, Alex wasn't offended. And he wasn't jealous. And he wasn't overthinking things. Well, maybe just a little.
"Have a lovely evening," the girl smiled at him.
On his pale skin, the grey looked somewhat sickly, but it brought a sense of relief. It felt as if a target had been erased from his back. Tonight would be only conversation and drinks.
Alex slumped into the company as usual, brushing his side against Elliot.
"Oh, look who it is," Elliot said, clapping him on the shoulder. He immediately flicked the bracelet with his finger. "What’s with the new look?"
"Well... I just felt like it."
"That is none of your business, Montero," Killian cut in.
"If he wants it that way, then that's how it should be," Jessica agreed.
"Whoa, whoa, easy now, I was just asking," Elliot said, raising his hands in mock surrender.
"Since this is a night of experiments, why don't you finally order something other than water?" Alistair suggested.
"You know I don't—"
"They have excellent non-alcoholic cocktails here," Alistair persisted.
"If that’s the case..."
"That’s the spirit!" Elliot clapped his hands.
Alistair immediately leaned closer, pointing his finger at the pictures in the menu and offering commentary.
"There’s a virgin mojito, or a pina colada if you’re in the mood for something more exotic. And here’s another..."
After another round of indecision, Alex realized that making choices was absolutely not his forte and left everything in Alistair’s elegant hands.
"I’ll be sure to find you something you’ll love, *cariño*." The nickname made Alex shiver. Did he call everyone that? He had to shake his head to rattle those thoughts loose, but they remained stubbornly in the back of his mind, poisoning his mood.
Killian gave him a questioning look, raising an eyebrow, but Alex pretended not to notice. Killian simply shrugged.
"Julia, honey, come over here," Elliot called out into the hall, and a few seconds later, a waitress appeared. Like every floor staff member, she wore a grey bracelet.
"I’m all ears," she smiled warmly, giving a subtle wave to Jess.
Elliot rattled off their sizable order, and the waitress noted it down before heading off.
"Is all of that for you?" Alex asked incredulously. Elliot burst out laughing.
"Who do you think I am, Captain? I doubt my liver could survive that kind of trial. Besides, I’m not that greedy. I’ll share with the rest of you."
"And you know everything they drink?"
"It's not that hard when you’ve been hanging out with these idiots and Jess for two years."
"You’ve known me for three!" Alistair protested.
"Two and a half," Elliot countered.
"How did you guys even meet?" Alex interjected.
"Oh god, why are you waking up the 'old storyteller' in Elliot?" Killian groaned, covering his eyes with his hand.
"Silence! This is an initiation!" Jess beamed.
"Oh, it’s a great story."
***
Elliot was sitting at the bar, intently scanning the menu, his red bracelet on full display. Back then, no one had heard of panic buttons or proper security systems. It was a place for "insiders." Dimmer lights, less space, fewer people, and consequently, less control.
His reflections on which brandy was superior were interrupted by shrill shouting. He couldn't make out the words, but he got the gist - a damsel in distress. Though he was a cheeky citizen, he was a law-abiding one. He decided to head over and help.
"Look how proud we are. Even though you’re wearing purple," sneered one of the bastards who had grabbed a stunning, tanned beauty.
"¡Vete a la mierda, hijo de puta!" the young lady shouted, fighting back fiercely.
"Exotic," his companion with the red bracelet noted smugly.
"Gentlemen, are you perhaps deaf?" Elliot loomed over them like the wolf from an old English fairy tale. He was smiling, of course, but his teeth made it clear it was more of a predator’s snarl. "I’d be happy to translate the lady’s wishes for you. And she suggests you scumbags get lost."
"You should get out of here, Montero. Playing the hero now, are we?"
"She’s into it, she’s just playing hard to get," the second one chimed in.
"No, gentlemen, you are definitely deaf. If the wind doesn't blow you far away from here, I won't mind getting my hands dirty," Elliot wasn't bluffing. He’d already been banned for a month once for a fight and wouldn't hesitate to do it again. Besides, a month of sobriety never hurt anyone.
The thugs exchanged looks, weighed the pros and cons, and retreated with irritated whispering.
"Are you alright, señorita?" he finally addressed the girl directly.
"Thank you very much. But there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding," the person said, speaking with some difficulty after the ordeal. "I am definitely not a señorita."
"What?" Elliot was stunned. Only now did he get a good look at the beauty he had defended. The "beauty" had a long black ponytail, a graceful figure, sharp cheekbones, and a very visible Adam's apple. Elliot chuckled nervously at the absurdity of the situation. "I thought... I thought you were..."
"Yeah, I know, big surprise," the guy said, clearly having dealt with this before and being thoroughly tired of it. "Do you want a photo or something?"
"No, just, I thought-"
"I’m gay," the guy stated. Usually, after those words, even the most persistent types backed off. He just wanted to go about his business, not listen to more incoherent nonsense about his appearance.
"I’m Elliot, nice to meet you," Elliot replied, completely unfazed by the new acquaintance's remark. He nonchalantly extended his hand.
This time, it was the Spaniard who froze in shock. He hesitantly reached out in return.
"Alistair."
***
"It was a story of long and passionate love," Elliot said, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye.
"I’m surprised I still put up with you," Alistair said, unable to suppress a smile. Elliot didn't take offense at all. Best friends, after all.
"The first time you came, you wore purple?" Alex asked, surprised.
"I wanted to try everything at once, but after the very first session with Elliot, I realized I’m actually quite comfortable in red."
"It was so easy with you back then, especially when I..."
"¡No me avergüences!" Alistair hissed at him.
"Qué flor tan delicada," Elliot cooed.
Just then, the waitress returned with a large tray full of various cocktails. Alex watched as Julia set down everyone’s drink. Alistair got his usual glass of sherry. Elliot chose the timeless classic - whiskey and coke. Jess got a pink, charmingly strawberry "Barbie," and Killian took a sip of a "Grasshopper." Alex stared at his orange-brown marvel.
"And this is?"
"Bumble coffee with orange juice," Alistair announced proudly, as if he’d invented the recipe himself.
Alex took a tentative sip and, realizing that no one was trying to poison or get him drunk, began to drink calmly. It turned out to be surprisingly pleasant to drink something other than water.
Elliot continued to tease Alistair, who feigned being pouting. Alex listened to their bickering, and the tension within him eased. It was refreshing to participate in the group’s life solely as a conversationalist.
---
But that wasn't enough. Alex returned to the club just a day after his previous visit. He didn't even want to look at the grey. Perhaps Alistair had been right about it matching his eye color... The blue bracelet felt familiar and almost like home on his wrist.
He settled at the bar. Maybe try something new again? Alex had only just opened the menu when he was called.
"Alex!" Thomas was heading toward him, waving his hand warmly.
"Hey," Alex turned on his barstool.
"Relaxing alone today?" The question gave Alex a strange sense of déjà vu.
"Haven't run into any of my crowd yet. You? Where's Mark?"
"On shift," Tom waved it off. "Since you aren't being guarded by the Spanish Inquisition today, maybe I could keep you company? You were amazing with Elliot in the ring."
"It’s a bit awkward being praised for losing," Alex said, smiling sheepishly.
"Losing? You’re exaggerating. First time against Elliot? I’d be begging for mercy in a minute. But you held your own like a warrior. Though, judging by your reaction, you're terribly sensitive," Thomas patted him on the shoulder.
"You watched?" Alex felt a surge of heat rush to his face as he remembered everything that happened in the ring.
"How could I miss it? Plus, Elliot can't keep his mouth shut. He loves bragging about a Blue like you," he winked playfully.
At that statement, Alex began to break out in red blotches. His neck, cheeks, ears, collarbones. A blabbermouth, a total blabbermouth... Just wait until he got hold of Elliot! If Elliot didn't start talking in that tone of his or grab his waist and... Since when did you become such a pervert, Alexander Farley? What did those silver-tongued bastards do to your innocent soul?
"Blushing?" Tom chuckled. "Cute. Don't worry, he was only full of admiration."
Alex suddenly wanted to bury his face in his hands. To avoid looking like a little girl in someone else's eyes, he decided to turn away. At that exact moment, Alistair entered the club. He looked around as if the entire space were his personal domain and smiled upon spotting Alex. However, his smile vanished the moment he saw Thomas, who was practically radiating positivity, standing nearby. Their eyes met, and Alistair turned away with a flick of his black ponytail, heading toward their usual table.
Thomas followed his gaze.
"Oh, the princess. The way he’s staring at you... am I being a third wheel here?"
"There’s nothing between us," Alex frowned. He didn't need another dose of possessiveness from a man who had recently vanished into a private room with some stranger.
His mood was rapidly souring, and Alex was getting tired of the unspoken tension.
"In that case, my offer still stands."
Alex didn't think long. Did he want a release? He did. And he’d get it. The fact that it wasn't with his usual group was actually a plus. No messy feelings, no attachments, and a great chance to show that he was a self-sufficient person who could choose his own partner for the night. Look at him, being all in demand!
"Let’s go. Just not to the ring, okay? I haven't fully recovered from last time," his hand instinctively went to his side, as if feeling a phantom itch. Elliot had certainly done a number on him.
"No problem."
Thomas stood up and started walking, clearly expecting Alex to follow. Alex shook himself out of his thoughts and trailed after his new acquaintance.
Alex settled on a mat, leaning his back against the wall. He looked a bit tense, like a ruffled fledgling - except the "fledgling" weighed nearly a hundred kilograms and stood two meters tall. Tom shook his head.
"Relax, Alex," he crouched down beside him. He was in his late twenties, nearly seven years older than Alex. He seemed experienced; his very gaze was calming. Tom, for his part, clearly found interest in the younger, greener guy. Could anyone blame him? The attractive young man before him was as tense as a coiled spring, all because of his phenomenal sensitivity. What "Red" would turn down a gift like that?
"Easier said than done," Alex rubbed his neck awkwardly. A new person was always a source of stress and uncertainty for him.
"Are you always this wound up before a session?"
"No, not really. I’m just used to things being... well, immediate."
"Ah, you mean Elliot? Yeah, he loves the element of surprise," Tom smiled understandingly. "I’ll start, and if anything is too much, just stop me, don't be shy." His confidence was contagious, and Alex finally began to relax.
Thomas ran a warm, dry hand over Alex’s stomach, and Alex finally exhaled. He hadn't even realized he’d been holding his breath.
As it turned out, appearances were deceiving, and Tom was a deviously "wicked" man. Alex realized this too late right around the moment Tom's hand snaked into the leg of his jeans. And there was no pulling it out now, though Alex tried!
Scurrying away wasn't an option either. The wall was behind him, and his tormentor was in front. Every escape route was blocked.
"Endure it, there’s nowhere left to go," Alex was starting to understand why Elliot and Thomas were friends.
Tom’s fingers began to dance lightly over the skin behind Alex's knee, and Alex let out a wail. Such a small spot, why was it so ticklish?! It was hard to imagine a worse place. Actually, wait, Alex knew a worse place: his armpits. But the realization that things weren't as bad as they *could* be didn't make his current ordeal any easier. The thin skin was terribly sensitive, and he felt a wave of uncontrollable laughter rising in his throat as a silly grin spread across his face.
Thomas, deciding his victim had too much room to maneuver, used his second hand to pull Alex by the hips, shifting him from his seat onto his lower back. Resisting in that position was utterly impossible.
The itch behind his knee was driving him insane, and his leg started jerking wildly. The worst part was that every attempt to resist only pressed the denim of his jeans tighter against Tom’s fingers. That sensation was the most unnerving of all. Not even clenching his teeth could save him; whimpering groans escaped anyway, mingled with breathless giggles.
Thomas, noticing Alex was on the verge of losing it completely, doubled his efforts. He brought his second hand into play, and though the fabric protected his skin from direct contact, when Tom began to squeeze the muscles on his inner thigh, Alex wanted to crawl out of his skin. He tried to dodge, but only worsened his situation by spreading his legs even wider.
"You’re so funny when you can't do anything about it," Tom sounded like he was having as much fun as Alex.
"A-ha-ha-HA-ha!" was the only response Alex could manage.
Thomas’s hand slid a bit lower to his calf. Alex kicked his leg so hard he nearly hit himself. Though, judging by the fleeting sensation he got from that light touch... it might have been better if he’d just passed out right then.
"Oh, bad spot?"
"Aie! No-he-ha-hA-HA-HA! Do-hon't!"
Alex shook his head desperately, hoping it would help, but has anyone ever been saved by frantic denial? There he was, flushed red, terrifyingly giddy and nearly hiccuping from laughter, shaking his head like a bobblehead. He would have died of embarrassment if he could see himself. Fortunately, there were no mirrors in the club, and Thomas clearly liked the view.
Alex was ready to curse Tom's strong hands. His legs were supposed to be like stone after sports, how was this guy kneading his calves with such ease?! Alex tried to catch his hands, but Tom reacted quickly. In an instant, Alex’s wrists were pinned above his head. Seriously, where did this guy get his strength? Pinning a quarterback was no small feat. Of course, it helped that Alex was disoriented and weakened by laughter, but he was still struggling as if for his life.
"A feisty one? Even better, those are more fun to tame," Tom squeezed his calf again, and Alex, covering his face with his arms, went limp like a rag doll. He was practically howling, occasionally breaking into laughter.
Only when he realized he could barely remember the safeword and his breathing was getting difficult did Alex decide to end it.
"Red! Tom!"
He didn't have to say it twice. Thomas immediately pulled his hands out of all the places they shouldn't have been and sat down beside him.
"Alright, well done, champ," he offered a fist-bump, and Alex, barely able to make out his surroundings, managed to return it. Tom patted him on the shoulder.
"Did you and Elliot... go to the same school of sadism?" Alex could barely catch his breath.
"A shared fetish brings people together," Thomas laughed.
A few minutes later, he stood up and offered Alex a hand.
"That was great, Alex. Hope we can do it again sometime."
Alex only nodded in response. His head was still spinning slightly after such "active rest."
Smoothing his clothes and steadying his breath, Alex lazily wandered back to the table. The pleasant heaviness in his legs and the emptiness in his head were exactly the desired effects of tickling that he loved so much.
Seeing him, Jess waved cheerfully and went back to pestering Killian. She seemed to have a penchant for annoying the most irritable person in the group.
Elliot, as usual, reached out to him.
"Why are you so red, Captain? And look at your hair. Oh, you're a mess," he fussed, trying to tidy the curls of the struggling Alex.
"He was busy. With Thomas," Alistair said, not even looking up. He was sitting there, intensely focused on folding a napkin into a crane, as if that crane had personally ruined his life.
A spark flared in Elliot’s eyes, but it looked more like competitive spirit than jealousy.
"Ow, Jess, for f-... Hold on, you brat!" Killian finally grabbed her wrists to join the conversation. "Tom isn't Elliot, but he can be just as exhausting."
"At least it wasn't both of them together. I can only imagine..."
"Oh, you’d love that," the words came out with more bitterness than Alistair intended. He seemed surprised by his own tone.
The atmosphere at the table grew tense. Elliot looked back and forth between Alistair and Alex like he was watching a tennis match. Killian rolled his eyes.
"I’m going to the bar to check on the drinks," Alistair stood up.
Alex watched the Spaniard walk away. He’d bolted.
Elliot immediately started a conversation with Jess, and Killian went back to his phone, only occasionally glancing at Alex. Alex didn't last long.
"I’ll go see how he’s doing. Maybe he needs help... uh... carrying the drinks, yeah."
Elliot nodded approvingly, and Alex went after Alistair. He found him sitting at the bar, poking an olive in his glass with a toothpick.
"Alistair."
"Huh? Alex?" He turned almost fearfully but immediately tried to save face.
Alex sat down beside him in silence. So what? He didn't intend to apologize; he hadn't done anything wrong! He was just sick of the things left unsaid. Alistair kept fiddling with the toothpick. The situation was clearly grating on both of them.
"Did you have a good time?" he asked tentatively. Alex had never heard such uncertainty in his voice before.
"It was fine," Alex shrugged. But that wasn't what they needed to talk about.
Alistair fell silent again for a minute.
"Alex. I realize you might have seen something you... didn't like."
"Maybe," Alex said. That was putting it mildly.
"And you decided to go to him?!" Alistair flared up again. "Anything just to avoid me?"
Alex was stunned. So this was his fault?
"I’m a self-sufficient adult, Alistair, not a reserved table! Do I need to report to you every time I want to try something new?"
"But you were happy with me before!" Alistair argued.
"Before what?"
"Before I left with that Mateo!" Alistair shouted, his voice cracking. Yeah, Alex could see why Elliot had mistaken him for a girl back then.
"Exactly. You go with whoever you want, and I go with whoever I want. A solid plan!"
Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose. He was annoyed that Alex was right, annoyed by the logic, and annoyed with himself.
"Look, that’s different."
"And how is it different?" Alex wasn't great at social nuances, but he wasn't a complete idiot.
Alistair bit his lip. He had no answer.
"Fine, okay, fine. Но you were spending all your time with Elliot!" Alistair blurted out, sounding childishly offended. It was like a soap opera.
"Me?"
"You!" Alistair replied despondently.
"And that’s the best you could come up with? Going to a private room with some random guy? You and Elliot are..."
"Yes, we’re a team, but I want you too! Why does that moron get all the attention while I sit here like some... ¡Cachorro abandonado!"
Alex didn't know the literal translation, but he got the gist: an abandoned puppy.
"Let’s say that's true. What does that have to do with you being jealous of Tom while you run off with the first person you see?"
"Well... I’m a jerk, okay!" Alistair threw his hands up but then slumped. "But I’m sorry. It didn't mean anything, you know?"
Alex looked at him skeptically.
"No, I know, it sounds stupid, but I’m telling the truth. I might be possessive, but I’m not a scumbag. You’re important to me. Not just within the club, but here too. I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise," Alistair looked directly into his soul with those piercing brown eyes. Alex was completely lost. He turned away, hoping he wouldn't start tearing up at such an inopportune moment. Hold it together, Farley, for god's sake.
Alistair had acted like a prick, no question. Но they hadn't actually set any boundaries.
"It’s just-" Alex trailed off and shook his head. Emotions, those damn human emotions. What do people usually do? Cry? Scream? Punch a wall?
Alistair gently took his large hand and stroked his knuckles. The sensation made Alex finally soften. To avoid sobbing like a little girl right in front of Alistair, he impulsively pulled him into a hug. Alistair was about 15 centimeters shorter, and Alex lifted him off the ground with ease, burying his face in the top of his head.
"Does this mean you forgive me, cariño?" Alistair’s voice was muffled against Alex’s chest, but he wasn't complaining. He just wrapped his arms tighter around Alex’s waist.
"Just make up your mind about who your cariño actually is."
They stood like that for a few minutes until Alistair felt Alex’s heartbeat return to normal. Though he didn't want to leave the embrace at all.
"Alex, would you like to... again today?" Alistair pulled back slightly and glanced meaningfully toward the secluded area where he’d given him the massage before.
"Right now?" Alex’s voice was a bit husky from the recent emotions, but a smile was already appearing on his face.
"I’ll be gentle. I just want to show you that you’re the only one for me," Alistair tucked a stray curl behind Alex’s ear.
Alex didn't remember exactly how he ended up pinned under Alistair. He remembered him whispering something in Spanish, his hands gently pushing him onto the mat, and him pulling up his t-shirt.
Alistair’s fingers traced intricate patterns over the skin of his stomach and ribs. It might have been relaxing if it wasn't so ticklish. Alex kept tensing his abs, his muscles jumping under the touch. Alistair only became more enthusiastic, dragging his nails over the ridges of his stomach.
Alistair rested his chin on Alex’s shoulder and nuzzled into his neck, nipping lightly. Alex closed his eyes, smiling blissfully and laughing softly under his breath.
It was intimate. Alistair pinched the soft part just above his hip a bit harder, and Alex bucked his hips, making Alistair bounce.
"Don't kick."
"Ho-ho-how?" Alex giggled quietly again, resting his hands on Alistair’s hips to hold him in place. Alistair smiled into his shoulder.
Alistair’s hands roamed under the t-shirt, scratching his ribs with his nails, moving up toward his chest and back down. Alex squirmed and tightened his grip on Alistair’s hips, earning an appreciative hum.
Alistair fluttered his fingers lightly, making Alex writhe and let out rare, stifled chuckles.
"Do you like it, cariño?" Alistair’s voice, soulful and tender, sent shivers down his spine. This was what had been missing with Thomas. The emotion. The connection they had. Alex nodded vigorously.
He felt Alistair go back to his neck. At first, the light nipping combined with the tickling on his ribs only caused carefree laughter and a weak urge to crawl away. But Alistair grew bolder, and Alex felt a warm, wet kiss on his neck. The erogenous zone sent a blast of endorphins to his brain, and his breathing hitched. Another kiss, then another, and another. Alex’s giggling began to mingle with moans, and Alistair could have sworn it was the best sound he’d ever heard.
His head was swimming from the new sensations, and the tickling showed no sign of stopping. It all caused a tight knot to form in his lower abdomen, leading to very specific sensations. And Alistair was still on top, showing no sign of stopping. When Alistair shifted slightly and things became noticeably "tighter" in Alex’s pants, it hit him like a ton of bricks.
What the hell was he doing?
"A-Alistair..." Alex struggled to detach the Spaniard from himself. Alistair’s eyes were slightly glazed, and clearly not from the sherry. "Not now, not in front of everyone, this isn't the time. Don't."
Alistair ran a hand over his face and focused.
"Yeah. Okay, whatever you say."
"I’ll go clean myself up and we’ll go back to the others, okay?"
"No problem." Was Alistair disappointed by the turn of events? A little. But "not the time" gave him hope that "the time" would definitely come.
Alex ducked into the restroom to compose himself, splashing as much cold water on his face as he could. Everything was under control. He didn't know what the hell that just was, but everything was under control.
When they returned to the table, both were flushed and a bit disheveled, but at least they weren't shooting daggers at each other. The whole group seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Well, now both of you are a mess," Elliot shook his head and began smoothing their hair with the same diligence as before. Neither of them even resisted.
"Morons," Killian grunted. "But I’m glad you don't want to strangle each other anymore."
"Agreed, I like you much better when you're happy," Jess supported him.
"That sounds like a toast!" Elliot raised his glass. Everyone followed suit. "But we’re not sending you two for drinks anymore. You disappear without a trace."
Jess was the first to crack, followed by Alistair. After that, the evening went much more cheerfully, though the real fun, of course, was still ahead.
it's so nice to still see ur posts on my dash lol so many from the "og" tk community from a couple years ago lowkey disappeared now so hi hello good to see u here
opinion on tk art? like what kind is the best to u? I have a couple opinions on that myself so yeah curious to find out yours
HAHAHA honoured ofc but god I feel ancient
Good to see you too :))
Love tk media despite my lack of reblogs but there are sooooo many talented artists out there, some I still gotta put on my list.
In terms of tk art? I don't even know the different kinds HAHAHA or maybe I'm taking it too literally. I'm gonna eat them all up but I think maybe top scenarios would be tk fights or slice of life/casual positions, domestic type shii idk how to describe it but that lmao.
@ineznay - wonderful art and writing
Something like this I eat up anytime.
@sillyguytickleblog - another artist that i need to highlight 10000%
THIS- or literally anything in that sdv series they made SOOOO good
@overtheimaginationwall - y'all we are spoiled with how many talented people are on here
When I saw this for the first time it was like being kissed on the forehead and wrapped in a cozy blanket
Anything by @home-of-the-squirmle or @tomurah
I can go on and on and on but yeah support our artists and writers!!!! Comment/reblog their posts and tell them how much you like them (this is a threat /lh)
This is a tickle fic. Don't like it don't read it.
Alex maneuvered through the mats, chairs, and people, trying his best not to accidentally bump into anyone. After today's training session, he felt particularly lumbering and clumsy. His only thought right now was to find Alistair as soon as possible. He could really use a massage...
To be honest, his plan was to sit down at their usual spot and not budge for at least a couple of hours to recover from his coach’s "atrocities." But the scene unfolding before him made his feet root to the floor.
Killian was lying across Elliot’s lap with his shirt pulled up and his arms stretched upward, held firmly in one of Elliot’s hands. Elliot’s other hand was circling Killian’s flat stomach. Judging by Killian’s expression, one would think he was ready to kill Elliot with his bare hands. A mocking voice reached Alex’s ears.
"...But when it’s time to kick, we’re the first in line."
Now, Alex knew perfectly well that eavesdropping was wrong, and peeping even worse. William always told him that while flicking him on the nose, but he couldn't bring himself to turn away. And so what? If people were allowed to stare at him in the ring, why couldn't he watch Killian being "tortured"?
"Go to hell!" Killian snapped, arching his back.
"How rude," Elliot cooed. He was clearly used to this behavior. But being used to it didn't mean he had become merciful.
Elliot’s fingers dug into the muscle right above the pelvic bone, and the skin quickly reddened from the intense pressure. Killian let out a short, hysterical laugh and immediately composed himself. Well, almost. Yelps and squeals escaped him every now and then, but he refused to let himself laugh. Alex didn't share that kind of stubbornness; he thought that under such a targeted attack, he’d be laughing loudly enough to deafen everyone within ten meters. But Killian was actually holding up okay.
"Shut up and get on with it! Your pathetic attempts would only make a child laugh," Killian hissed. Elliot clearly hadn't expected his partner to be so desperate. "Getting old, Monterro?"
Alex used to think *he* was the one who couldn't keep his mouth shut, but looking at Killian, he realized his own antics were nothing in comparison. To provoke Elliot right in the middle of a session, you had to have nerves of steel, a lack of self-preservation, or be a masochist. Killian seemed to be all three. "Stupidity and Courage."
"Get ready—by the time we're done today, you'll forget every word except 'red' and 'please,'" Elliot said, having been thoroughly riled up. Alex braced himself for the show.
At first, it was almost innocent considering that declaration. Elliot slowly ran his fingers along the ribs, pressing lightly on each one. It was obvious Killian was struggling to keep a straight face, but he’d made it a matter of principle. Alex himself would have already been trying to break free and cover his armpits in terror, but for Killian, this was a manageable ordeal. He even managed to keep sniping.
"Is... is that all you’ve got?" Only a slight breathlessness in his speech betrayed how difficult the dialogue was becoming. "Judging by the reactions of your 'fans,' I expected something more impressive."
Elliot didn't feel the need to respond to the jab immediately. He might have been annoyed by the sheer gall of Killian’s continued backtalk, but he intended to prove his point through action, not words. They both understood exactly why Killian was "worsening" his own situation.
While Elliot wrestled with Alex, he played with Killian. Though Killian wasn't weak, he didn't match their physique. Elliot had no trouble handling Killian’s resistance. He carelessly worked his way up toward Killian’s neck.
"Bitch, don't you dare! Don't even think about touching—" Killian tried to tilt his head away as if Elliot were about to rip it off. It didn't help. Despite a slight roughness to his skin, Elliot's fingers danced over him with unbearable lightness. Alex involuntarily tucked his own head into his shoulders. Killian winced as if in physical pain—an interesting way to hide the smile spreading across his face. But Elliot was playing the long game. He knew that sooner or later, the smile would break through; it always did. And once the smile was there, laughter wasn't far behind.
He was damn right. Less than a minute later, Killian's face looked like it might split in half from the grin. It was incredibly unusual to see him like this.
"And where did all that aloofness go, hmm?" A smirk played on Elliot's face, boding nothing good. "I'm barely touching you. What’s going to happen when we *really* start?"
Killian shook his head, hoping to somehow protect the sensitive skin behind his ears. He looked like a puppy shaking its head to brush off a pesky insect. Snorts and muffled curses kept escaping him, which greatly amused Elliot.
The real fun began when Killian managed to kick Elliot in the forearm with his knee. The latter didn't waste time and deftly grabbed his ankle. This time, a flash of genuine fear appeared in Killian’s eyes.
"Can't swallow your own medicine?" Elliot chuckled.
"You wouldn't."
"What makes you think that?"
"Because you—Ai-ha-ha-ha-A-HA-HA!" Killian broke into a shriek. His real laugh turned out to be piercing and hysterical. Elliot wasn't even doing much—he was just running two fingers down the middle of his foot through the sock. But for Killian, that was enough to turn from a reserved guy into a siren.
"What’s the matter, Kill? Cat got your tongue? Oh, what do we have here?" As soon as Alex heard those words, a squeak echoed through the hall, followed by breathless giggling. Alex was certain that decibel level could be classified as a sonic attack. Even Elliot crinkled his nose at the sharp sound, but he had no intention of stopping.
Killian clung desperately to his hand, but it didn't hinder Elliot at all. With his other leg, Killian was still actively trying to kick his tormentor. Elliot neutralized him with the same ease one uses to pick up a hissing kitten.
"No-ehi-hi-hi! EHI-HI-HI-HI!" All the arrogance vanished the moment Elliot pulled his sock off. Killian curled his arms around his torso, rolling around the mat like a child. A smile spread across Alex's face. It was surprisingly pleasant to watch such a "pain in the neck" be turned into a helpless mass of laughter and twitching.
It was clear that Killian was enjoying himself in his own way. The tickling stripped away any possible self-control. His laughter stopped being strained and became unburdened, almost childlike. His pale face turned crimson almost instantly from the non-stop laughing.
"Sadi-hi-hi-hi-hist!"
"Me?!" Elliot turned to him with an expression so offended you'd think it wasn't his hands currently sending a person into hysterics. "You attacked an innocent man and were rude to him. This is self-defense!"
Deciding his companion had too much energy left for accusations, Elliot redoubled his efforts. He pinned both of Killian's feet and began tickling with his other hand. He didn't scratch hard, but those feather-light touches were yielding great results. He didn't let the skin get used to the sensation or even let it get sore from intensity, but that maddeningly itchy tingle made Killian want to climb the walls.
"Aha... Sto-ha... Stop," Killian barely managed a single word.
"I don't hear 'red,'" Elliot parried melodically.
"No-he-het, Elli-hi-hi..." Killian sat up abruptly, trying to pull Elliot away with one hand while clutching his own torso with the other. His forehead rested against Elliot's back, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Alex's throat went dry.
Luckily for him, Killian couldn't see Elliot's face. Alex, however, had the full picture. And he knew that expression well. Elliot sat there with a lazy smirk that contrasted with the focus in his dark eyes. He ran his fingers along the sides of Killian's feet, and Killian burst into shrill laughter again. Elliot was clearly inspired by the reaction, and the "electric" sensation moved to the toes. Killian made another rescue attempt and began drumming on Elliot's back.
"DO-HA-HA-HA-N'T! PLEA-HA-HA-HA-HA-SE! HA-HA-HA-HA!" He squirmed violently, but the mat didn't budge under Elliot's weight.
"Is that a hallucination? Or am I actually hearing something polite from you?"
"Go to-HA-HA-HA!" Killian couldn't finish the phrase.
"You're a terrible conversationalist, you know that?"
Elliot continued to mess with Killian for another couple of minutes until the latter wailed, "RE-HA-HA-HA-D!" He let go of the "victim’s" legs, and Killian immediately collapsed onto the mat, trying to catch his breath.
Elliot couldn't help himself; as soon as Killian's breathing leveled out, he gently ran his fingers under his knee. Killian let out an incoherent moan and slapped his hand away.
"Let me rest, you monster..."
Elliot smiled and leaned his back against the wall. His gaze immediately fell on Alex, who had been watching them. He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes, and his smile took on a predatory edge. Alex felt a chill run down his spine. The decision to retreat was made instantly.
---
While Alex was panicking during his exit, he ran into Jess again. It was like a curse.
"Oh, Alex, hi! I hope you're not heading for the exit?" She smiled at her own joke.
"Hi," he said, gently catching her by the arm, still thinking about what he’d just seen.
"You're kind of tense. Are you feeling okay? No pain?" Without a second thought, she felt his ribs near his back.
"Ow! What for?" Alex recoiled, pulled out of his recent memories by a sudden and very real sensation.
"Oops, didn't think," Jess replied with a smile, showing no real regret. She squeezed his arm again with scientific interest, but Alex was ready and bore it. "God, you’re like a walking anatomy textbook..."
"I'll take that as a strange compliment," Alex muttered shyly, trying not to draw attention to how much Jess’s hand was unnerving him.
"Alex, honey, you simply *must* let me use you as a mannequin! See, I need to review my anatomy, and this way I’ll definitely remember everything. We’ll spend the time productively and usefully, what do you think?" She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes with that open, warm expression. How could you say no to such a "sunshine" person?
"Why not?"
"That’s the spirit!" Jessica didn't waste time. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled. Alex began to feel a sense of déjà vu. Was it really this easy for petite girls to drag him wherever they wanted? But again, he wasn't given time for reflection.
Jess sat Alex down on a mat and tugged at the hem of his T-shirt.
"Can you take it off?" Unlike his dark-haired tormentors, Jessica at least bothered to ask rather than command. Alex didn't resist; the shirt was neatly folded next to the mat.
Jess settled behind him and ran her fingers down his back. His skin instantly broke out in goosebumps.
"Oh, Alistair wasn't lying—you have a very sensitive back," she noted with slight surprise.
"Thanks for noticing," he grumbled.
"Don't be a grump, I mean well." Her gentle, short fingers with their manicured nails explored the considerable area of his back and shoulders.
He didn't want to be rude to Jessica at all; the sensations were wonderful. Yes, a little ticklish, but wasn't that a plus? From behind, she quietly mumbled the names of muscles, occasionally asking Alex to flex one part of his body or another.
But Jessica was getting bolder, and Alex began to twitch more often. It was especially hard to endure the muscles Jess called by mysterious words like obliquus externus abdominis and teres major. Alex tried to sit still, but he was reflexively trying to dodge the touches.
"Alex, medical mannequins don't squirm. Stay in character."
"Well, I'm not a mannequin. Ee!" Alex arched his back sharply because Jess had decided to go all in and knead the soft part right above his hip. How on earth did Killian endure that?!
Jessica laughed along with him, thoroughly amused by the sight of a giant guy practically squealing under her fragile hands.
"Is that for scientific purposes too?" Alex couldn't help but smile, glancing over his shoulder and seeing her joy. It was impossible to stay mad at her.
"It's for the purpose of entertaining the test subjects. Can't have you getting too relaxed, dear."
After that, the "teasing" turned into full-blown mockery.
"Alex, come on, you're strong. I believe in you."
"I can't keep my hands up while you're poking my biceps!" Alex wasn't lying; he was fully aware of his complete inability to tolerate tickling without being restrained, especially in a spot like that.
"Maybe we should call Elliot? He's good at this..."
"No, I can do it!" Alex immediately threw his hands behind his head. "You trickster."
"I'm just taking advantage of the situation. And the fact that our Elly is a bit of a sadist."
The moment she started, Alex felt the full weight of the situation. He locked his hands tighter, already feeling the laughter bubbling up in his throat. With that same cursed methodical precision, she began to probe the area right above his armpit. Alex erupted into his usual booming laugh, swaying slightly as if that helped him keep his hands up.
"Why didn't I study on you before? You're just a marvel. I should have stolen you away from the guys for an evening a long time ago," she brushed a long curly lock from her forehead and went back to Alex. He crinkled his nose amusingly when she tickled his neck just for the fun of it.
Alex gave up when she reached the armpits. His hands dropped almost the second Jess pressed her fingers into the muscles there. But it didn't save him. She continued to knead the sensitive hollows, even though her movements were somewhat restricted.
"You're so cute when you laugh. I'd never believe such a teddy bear could be a fearsome athlete on the field," on one hand, it sounded deathly humiliating. On the other, Jess spoke with such genuine affection and delight that she probably wasn't even teasing. Just thinking out loud.
He tried to catch her hands, but because she was sitting behind him, he only opened up more space for her to maneuver.
"Je-he-he-he-ss!"
"Yes?" she replied solicitously.
"Can't take it anymore-he-he..." He was truly exhausted. The coach's brutal mood during today's training was taking its toll.
"Red?" She slowed down. Alex could only nod.
Soon, Alex was resting his head on his friend's lap while she affectionately stroked his curly hair.
"Whew... Why do you even need anatomy? Aren't you already working as a nurse?"
"It's mostly an excuse to have fun, sorry, Lexie." She gave him another warm smile. "But I really do have an anatomy exam coming up. I'm still in med school; my nursing shifts are clinical practice. Though the work there is very real. You clearly worked hard today too—you're all knotted up."
"Yeah, training," he explained vaguely, waving a hand.
---
When they returned to their table, Killian and Elliot were already sitting there. Jess tucked herself in next to Killian, who merely waved at them, barely looking up from his phone. Alex sat next to Elliot.
"Did you miss us?" she asked, already reaching for the menu.
"Something like that," Killian replied. "I was starting to worry you’d leave me alone with this idiot."
"Someone’s getting brave, I see," Elliot huffed.
While Jessica told Killian about her recent shift, Elliot put an arm around Alex’s waist again and pulled him close. He ended up right by his ear; Alex was starting to think Elliot didn't quite understand the concept of personal space.
"Did you enjoy the show, Captain?"
Alex froze. He had already forgotten he'd been caught red-handed.
"Now, now—I'm actually flattered by your interest in my sessions. I love an audience, and the audience loves me."
His hot breath tickled Alex's skin and nerves. Alex was already embarrassed enough for standing there like some voyeur, and now Elliot was purring in his ear.
"I know you want to be next, Lex. Did you like what I did to Kill? I could do the same to you. Oh, I could tickle you until you lose your voice. And you'd say thank you, wouldn't you? You love it when I play right where you can't stand it," and after this soulful speech, he looked at Alex in such a way... If Alex had been standing, his knees would have buckled.
He couldn't keep a straight face for long and burst out laughing.
"Alex, *Dios*, stop looking like that, I feel like a monster."
"You can't just... say stuff like that..." Alex, still stunned, tried to respond. He felt the heat rushing to his face.
"Alistair's right when he says you're a peasant. Look how you've spooked the poor guy," Killian finally looked up from his phone for another jab.
"It's called flirting, but that word is foreign to you, you bore."
"By the way, where is Alistair?" Alex finally realized who was missing from the table.
"Who knows where the devil has taken that Casanova," Elliot waved it off.
Alex tuned out of the conversation for a few seconds. He scanned the room and finally spotted the familiar, elegant figure. Alistair was standing there, twirling a lock of hair around his finger next to some guy in blue. He said something, the guy laughed, and Alistair, taking him by the wrist, led him into one of the private rooms.
Something twisted inside Alex. No, he wasn't jealous—of course not. Well, maybe a little. He had no right; there was nothing between him and Alistair, but wasn't it Al who constantly flirted with him, clearly signaling that Alex was more than just another "blue" to him? Wasn't it Alistair who acted like a jealous brat, grabbing his hand and not letting him get a word in when Thomas offered him a session? And now he was just walking off into a private room with someone else? It was a painful blow to both his trust and his pride.
Elliot followed his gaze. He looked at Alex, then at the door, then back at Alex, and let out a whistle, but said nothing.
The evening went on, but Alex became quieter and more pensive. If Alistair could do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted, then what was stopping him? His wounded pride still stung, but a plan was beginning to form in his head.
Please, share your opinion in comments, I really need audience response 🙏🙏
February turned out to be exceptionally foul. Not that Liverpool usually boasted pleasant weather, but this went beyond the usual. Shoes literally sank into the slush, and the sun had completely vanished behind the clouds. Not exactly a romantic atmosphere, but February 14th wasn't going to cancel itself.
Alex was preparing for the holiday like never before. He hadn't really celebrated it in the past, but now he actually had someone to celebrate with. Generally, he welcomed any excuse to gather with people close to him and engage in his favorite hobby.
Alister and Elliot, of course, didn't miss the chance to force themselves on him as "helpers." How could they not? By one in the afternoon, those two cheeky faces were already standing on Alex's doorstep.
"It’s certainly... ascetic in here," Alister remarked condescendingly, walking into the kitchen. "Where are the hearts? The music? The candles? Rose petals, at the very least!"
"Give it a rest, you Spanish cupid. It’s just that you live in royal chambers. This is a normal, bachelor apartment," Elliot said, making himself right at home as he flopped into a chair.
The ingredients were already laid out on the kitchen counter, and Alex was wearing his favorite, life-worn apron with the word "Housewife" emblazoned across the chest. His teammates had given it to him the first time he brought them his baking after a major victory. Was it a strange hobby? Perhaps. But when his brother finally managed to take Alex in, Alex simply couldn't burden his already overworked sibling with the cooking. He liked the stability and precision of the process—it was almost meditative. Even more, he loved feeding those who were dear to him.
Alister stood behind him, inspecting the ingredients with the air of a professional.
"And what are we 'concocting,' maestro?"
"First of all, we are *baking*. Secondly, the plan for today is cookies. Do either of you have any experience with baking at all?" Given how aggressively the two had asked to join in, Alex assumed they must be fellow baking enthusiasts.
Both shook their heads honestly. It looked like he’d have to host a masterclass...
"Alright, then listen carefully," Alex began.
He was sure that with six hands they would finish much faster, but as it turned out, when you’re working with two idiots, things tend to drag on. Alister and Elliot spent most of their time fooling around, chatting, and bickering. Not that Alex minded. He felt more like he was in *Hell's Kitchen*, simultaneously mixing dough and trying to dodge pesky hands that kept trying to pinch his sides.
"Do you two even know the meaning of the word 'help'?" Alex grumbled, slapping Elliot’s hand away for the umpteenth time.
"I’m telling you, he’s more sensitive on the ribs... Alex, stand still, I need to prove my theory," Elliot tried to settle him.
"That’s why I call you a barbarian, my friend. You can’t see past your own nose. He might laugh louder on the ribs, but have you seen his reaction to the stomach? He wouldn’t last a minute. Right, darling?"
"Is it really necessary to discuss this in front of me?" The subject of the discussion was turning a shade of red that rivaled strawberry glaze.
"Vitally necessary," Ell confirmed seriously.
Half an hour later, when the dough had finally rested and the debaters had calmed down, Alex gave them each a piece of dough, a rolling pin, and some cookie cutters.
"Get sculpting, you drones. Your efficiency is currently leaving much to be desired."
"Look at him, the smart guy," Elliot managed to grab Alex’s hip, causing him to instantly retreat to the safety zone by the oven.
When he turned around ten minutes later to check the progress, he was, to put it mildly, bewildered. Alister hadn't even touched the cookie cutters, clearly considering them beneath his dignity. On the baking sheet before him lay meticulously sculpted male genitalia. Alex looked at this obscenity with universal resignation.
"Al, what is this?"
"The symbol of the holiday, isn't it obvious?" Alister clearly found himself immensely amusing.
Next to him, Elliot was huffing. Alex never thought cutting dough with shapes could be so difficult for someone. In front of him lay torn, crooked hearts. To Alex, these "uglies" seemed almost cute compared to Alister’s indeency.
"It’s coming along great," Alex encouraged sympathetically.
"Of course it is, I’m the one making them," Elliot replied, seemingly unbothered by his lack of skill.
Despite the results, Alex carefully laid out all the creations. No sooner had he put them into the preheated oven than a chin landed on his shoulder from behind.
"Alex, you have a little spot of flour on your neck," Alister said, beginning his latest form of execution. Alex tried to press his shoulder to his ear, but Alister’s head was slightly in the way.
Alister blew softly, as if trying to whisk the flour away, and the warm air hit Alex's neck. It wasn't "truly" ticklish, but the neck is a sensitive, erogenous zone.
"I can do it myself, Alister, don't..." But all attempts to convince Alister that Alex could handle the flour on his own were futile.
Alister’s fingers brushed lightly, almost weightlessly, against the side of his neck, and Alex tried to hide in his shoulders again, letting out a soft, "quacking" sound. This only emboldened the Spanish cupid. He nuzzled into one side of Alex’s neck—thankfully, Alister was always clean-shaven—and tickled him with sharp fingernails on the other. The poor guy couldn't figure out which part to protect. If Alex tilted his head toward Alister’s hand, Alister would start nipping at his neck, making him want to switch tactics immediately and tilt his head the other way—but there, another failure awaited.
"This is te-he-he-he-rture! HA-HA-HA!"
"Oh, it absolutely is," Alister agreed.
Alex was about to beg for help, but it came from an unexpected source. Though, clearly, the help wasn't intended for him.
It was naive to think Elliot would stay on the sidelines. Alex simply hadn't had time to think of him while being so exquisitely tortured. Ell intended to remind him personally.
"You know, we’ve conferred and decided that since we’ve been such good boys..." Elliot stood between Alex and the counter.
"You’re me-he-he-naces! Ow!" Alex really didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. Elliot decided that fingers squeezing the sides of the already dissolving Alex would serve as a good lesson.
"As I was saying, since we worked so hard, I think a gift for such helpful friends as us is absolutely necessary. And since you, our dear Lex, seem to have prepared nothing, we will, graciously, accept *you* as the gift."
"That suits me perfectly," Alister added.
"It doesn't su-hu-hu-it me!" But Alex wasn't given a choice, nor the chance to finish his sentence. Elliot dug into his ribs, and laughter drowned out all protest.
Alex stood on his tiptoes, his body reflexively leaning back, expecting the support of the safe, steady Elliot, but he remembered just in time that Alister was behind him. Leaning on Alister was a bit scary; Alex didn't want to crush him. The thought that he’d have to stay upright entirely on his own made Alex want something to lean on even more. His strong, powerful legs became completely useless and jelly-like under the tickling.
Elliot’s hands moved to his stomach, and Alex grabbed his wrists. It didn't help at all, but Alex wanted at least the illusion of control.
"I told you the ribs work better," Elliot noted, turning to Alister again.
"Tsk, you amateur, you’re doing it all wrong. Stop poking, be gentler." Alister himself switched strategies, moving to Alex’s ribs. Since he was standing behind and was impossible to reach, everything started to feel sharp and unbearable.
"LET GO-HO-HO, YOU MO-HO-NSTERS!"
"No, wait, Alex, let’s settle this. Which is worse: the stomach or the ribs?" Elliot inquired.
Alex shook his head hysterically, still not giving up hope of catching Alister.
"Lexie, if you don't answer us, I might move to the armpits," Alister threatened. This sounded ominous enough for Alex to try and squeeze out an answer.
"I can't-ha-ha-ha! I don't kno-ho-ho-w! ALISTER!" Alister carried out his promise and easily began tickling the "test subject’s" armpits. Alex couldn't take that level of torment and finally collapsed forward into Elliot’s arms.
"Alex, come on, just say the ribs are worse, why are you being difficult?"
"Arm... Armpi-hi-hi-hits," Alex struggled to speak.
"What a goofball, that’s not what I’m asking. What are we going to do with you?"
"Torture him?" Alister suggested.
"With love," Elliot clarified. "It is February 14th, after all."
Alex certainly felt all their "love." Most of it was concentrated on his long-suffering ribs and armpits, though Alister, even from behind, managed to slide his hands under the apron and t-shirt, tracing his nails over Alex’s stomach. That was its own kind of "fun"; he started giggling and, trying to muffle it, bit the first thing he could reach. That happened to be Elliot, who was so "gentlemanly" holding the Alex who kept trying to fall. He paid for it dearly; Elliot proved to be quite unmerciful toward biters.
"Oh, is that how it is? I’m here holding him out of the goodness of my heart, and he bites me! There isn't a drop of gratitude in you, Alexander."
Poor Alexander didn't know where to turn to escape the omnipresent hands. Everywhere he arched, there they were. Decent guests don't behave like this.
In the course of the cross-examination, it was discovered that the ribs and stomach were, to quote: "Equally terrible, leave me alone, you devils!"
They only let Alex go when the oven timer chimed, signaling that the cookies were finally ready. He couldn't even stand on his feet, so Alister and Elliot took the tray out and brought Alex some water. As soon as Alex recovered from the ordeal, the results of their "therapy" were obvious. He became relaxed, kind, and didn't even grumble at the "masterpieces" Alister had sculpted from his dough.
He still couldn't get used to the fact that things like this happened outside the club. It felt unreal, unattainable, almost magical. The club was a wonderful place, truly great, and Alex would never stop going there, but to have this in real life, without a designated venue... this was a new level.
Soon, he was sitting and decorating the cookies with glaze. For him, the process was soothing, while Alister and Elliot were as giddy as small children.
"Alex, maybe we should bake more often?"
"Al, I won't survive this more often."
"Who are you lying to, curly?" Elliot smirked, wiping a drop of glaze off Alex’s cheek with his finger.
Perhaps they really should bake more often.
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