somewhere to put all this

There was a disgruntled noise, likely the rat child pouting, but eventually the pattering feet skittered further away and there was a click as Sam presumably closed his door behind him. Briefly, Lyle wondered if it was possible to set up security cameras in his apartment. That would take time, though, and that place was always infested with all manners of ruffians and vagabonds that Sam let stay there. Though it was inconvenient, it did warm his heart to think that Sam, who had no reason to trust anyone in their strange, corrupted building, was always doing his best to help out others. Lyle wasn’t sure he would be able to do the same in his situation.

There was the clicking of computer keys and Lyle shook his head, focusing once more on the task at hand. Probably browsing the internet before bed. Now that Lyle could check on. He pulled out his own phone, pulling up the screen sharing app he’d installed one morning. Sam’s screen flashed across the device.

And it was… porn? No, not porn. Videos, for sure, and some were naked, but they certainly weren’t doing anything that Lyle would consider particularly pornographic. They were tickling each other. Or in this case, one guy was getting tickled by another, and by the looks of it quite intensely. The man was restrained to a bed while the other straddled his waist, his fingers plucking away at his ribs with a cruel, intense rhythm, Lyle continued watching for a few moments in surprise before quickly shutting the app down, heart racing.

What the hell was that?

Lyle sat back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Tickling. He wouldn’t have pegged Sam as someone who would be into that. In truth, he wouldn’t have pegged anyone as someone who would be into that. His own memories of the time before the Visitor always sat hazier and hazier at the edge of his mind the more time that went by. Still, he could remember quite distinctly the feeling of being tickled—mostly in his childhood, and a few, stumbling and awkward moments with the few romantic partners he’d held in his life. None of them were very pleasant memories.  

Did Sam want to be tied up and tickled? Or did he want to do the tickling? Briefly, he imagined being restrained while tickled and shuddered. The thought of Sam’s hands all over him was overwhelmingly nice, but for something like that?

He would have to do more investigation. He opened up the app once more, curling his legs in as he flopped onto his side and stared at it. He continued watching for another twenty minutes at least and three more videos. Though he couldn’t understand the appeal in the tickling himself, there was something salaciously vicarious about knowing that Sam enjoyed it. His face was hot and flushed by the time Sam’s screen went dark, indicating that his laptop had been shut off.

Yes, more investigation was needed indeed.

It took some doing, but he did it. The next morning, he negotiated a deal with that cute if aggravating brat next door to get Sam and convince him to come with her to investigate a supposed noise down the hall. He had to give up fifty bucks for it and a vague, undescribed favor for later, but it was worth it. It would have been better to wait for an opportunity, but he was meeting Sam at his apartment for dinner the next evening and he wanted to have this done before then.

Setting up the security camera was easy enough. He’d always been good with cameras before, but now it was as though a part of him was attuned to them, like he had a direct line of communication or something. He set one up in each room just to be careful. They were tiny things, barely noticeable—hopefully. He skittered out just in time as he heard them rounding the corner, breathing a sigh of relief once he reached the stairs.

There wasn’t any guarantee Sam would even watch anything tonight, but he needed to see his reactions if he did. Surely he’d be able to divine something from that.

He spent the evening puttering around, too excited to work on any of his current projects. He checked the cameras every so often, but Sam usually spent the day exploring, so it was often just filled with children running around or his unnerving ‘friends’ rifling through his fridge.

Around 7, Sam finally returned. He’d obtained some kind of cut on his arm, and there was a small trickle of blood leaking onto his shirt. Lyle fantasized about how he would bandage it up for him, cleaning the wound—Sam staring up at him with grateful eyes, the heat of his body so close Lyle could almost touch him.

Finally, Sam went to his room for the night and, just as he had hoped, began watching one of the videos. Lyle straightened up in his seat. This was it. The video started playing, a guy and a girl this time, the guy attached to some kind of giant cross.

Lyle began to have doubts about his porn theory. Sam wasn’t doing any of the usual things one would typically do. He didn’t touch himself or anything like that. Instead, he just… watched it. His features were pretty impassive overall, as expressionless as if he were scrolling social media. But as Lyle watched further, he noticed more subtle changes. Sam’s face had begun to darken, a gentle flush overtaking his ears and neck. The more intense the tickling got, the more Sam’s arms would twitch and tighten against his sides, his leg bouncing rapidly under the desk. By the end of the video, he was curled almost entirely into his chair.

Lyle’s palms began to sweat, his camera subconsciously focusing, as it did when he got excited. Well, well, well. He still wasn’t sure he quite got this tickling thing, but he did enjoy what it was doing to Sam. He had never seen the man so nervous before. He wished he could be the one causing the strange reaction, watching Sam’s face screw up and his eyes dart away from him.

He’d been so lost in thought, he almost hadn’t noticed Sam getting up to go over to his bed. But Sam had started to pull up his T-shirt and he definitely noticed that. He blinked rapidly a couple of times. Surely he wasn’t… no, no he wasn’t, his shirt remained on as well as everything else, just rucked up to his chest.

What is he doing?

On screen, Sam swallowed nervously. He glanced over at the door, but there was no sound from the other side. Slowly, he placed his hand on his stomach. Then his fingers began to move.

Lyle inhaled sharply. He was tickling himself. Oh god. His heart squeezed. He couldn’t decide if this was incredibly cute or hot. Perhaps both. Sam’s fingers moved with a hesitant practice, always pausing every so often so he could make sure the door remained closed. Lyle watched him intently. Though his touch traveled all over his torso, they returned to his stomach quite often, spidering and occasionally pinching at the skin. It was obvious it didn’t really tickle when he did it, but Sam’s stomach quivered and his other hand fisted in the sheets. It must be a pretty ticklish spot to have such a reaction with only himself.

Lyle was so absorbed in watching that he was startled when Sam abruptly stopped with a curse under his breath. His hand fell to his side.

“What the hell am I doing…? You spend too much damn time in this apartment.”

He continued grumbling to himself as he curled up under the sheets before eventually his complaints made way for gentle breathing.

Well. That solved one thing. It seemed that Sam wanted to be tickled. Quite a bit if what he had just seen was any indication. And Lyle was to see him tomorrow—just the two of him alone in his apartment.

Lyle smirked, drifting off to sleep with thoughts of how to use this new information.

He was nervous when he arrived. It was only their second date, and even that Lyle had been sure he would cancel last minute. Although date was probably an exaggeration. Their first had been in Lyle’s apartment, shortly after their first kiss, and the pulsating flesh against the door and inside his bedroom had been enough to put them off from doing anything more than awkwardly chatting. But there had been a moment at the end of the last date where it had seemed like maybe Sam was going to go in for more than just a hug. In the end, he hadn’t done either, conceding to clapping his shoulder and nodding before whirling around.

Of course, Lyle’s plans for tonight involved much more than just a potential kiss.

Sam seemed tired when he opened the door. The circles under his eyes had been getting worse the longer they stayed trapped in this apartment. He probably wasn’t sleeping alright. The apartment was blessedly empty; Sam had sent them out on a looting mission till ten, so they had the next few hours to themselves.

“Hey,” Sam said, his face brightening a little when he saw the other. “I wasn’t sure if you were actually going to come. These halls are so dangerous lately.”

Lyle smiled, trying not to seem too overeager. “O-Of course! I wouldn’t miss it.”

Sam stepped aside, and he shuffled in as the door closed behind them. All alone. The apartment looked tidier than usual, aside from the ever-present roaches.

“I tried to clean but there weren’t any clean rags, and the laundry room isn’t exactly working…” Sam trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. “Anyway. This is it. This is the place.”

Right. In theory, he had never been here before. Lyle took an extra moment to look around, taking it all in with wide eyes and an appraising hum. “It looks nice,” he offered and Sam flushed a little. Oh, what a wonderful feeling that was. And just like that, the urge to try out this new information he’d learned reared its insistent head once more.

Not yet, Lyle. Wait for the right moment.

What proceeded was a small tour that ended with them sitting on the couch together, each with their own glass of whiskey. Alcohol, strangely, seemed abundant in their building even though it was difficult to get ahold of any other beverages. They chatted for a bit about their own experiences in the apocalypse and more basic stuff, like siblings, pets, their shitty jobs. Sam didn’t seem to quite remember him even though he insisted he did, but Lyle didn’t really mind. He didn’t mind much if he could be next to the other.

“So yeah, I ended up nearly getting fired for keeping the movie, but what the hell did they care? It was a shitty movie and a shitty job, and we sold so many anyway, I don’t see what harm it caused.” Sam shook his head fondly, a small laugh slipping out. And how Lyle wanted to pounce on him then and there. He realized he had never really heard Sam laugh, not actually. He wondered what it would be like. He wondered if he would squirm when he did it or beg. He wondered how ticklish he was.

Trying very hard to be casual about it, Lyle reached out and poked him in the side. “I didn’t peg you as a troublemaker.”

Sam flinched. Hard. He blinked, seemingly surprised by his own reaction, before coughing and shifting on the couch. “Uh, yeah. At times, anyway. I was just really done with their crap, y’know?”

Bingo.

After that, Lyle wasn’t able to control himself. All of his nerves about touching Sam or causing him to catch on disappeared in the thrill of watching the other’s reactions. Everything he said was an excuse to poke him or squeeze his knee or nudge his side. And it was clearly getting to him. After only ten minutes of this, Sam was a jumpy mess, flinching before Lyle even moved. His eyes were locked on Lyle’s hands like he was trying to plan their next move. Lyle wasn’t sure if he even realized how obvious he was being. Occasionally, Sam would stare at him with his eyes narrowed as if trying to figure something out. Then, Lyle would back off for a minute or two, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself for long.

Sam had been doing a good job not reacting too obviously, infuriatingly enough for Lyle who wanted an excuse to really tickle him. But when one of his pokes landed too close to his stomach, Sam let out a noise that sounded very much like a squeak before shoving Lyle’s hand away.

They both stared at Sam’s hand on his, at the other hand clutching his stomach in protection. His hand was rougher than Lyle had expected. More callouses. His mouth felt dry.

“Sam,” Lyle said slowly, trying to tamp down his own excitement. “Are you ticklish?”

Immediately, red bloomed bright over Sam’s features. His hand tightened on Lyle’s. “Um. A bit. Isn’t everyone?”

His tone was anything but casual, though he was clearly intending it to be. There was a shy smile across his features, like someone who was caught in a lie and wasn’t sure if you were going to be upset or not. It was cute. Very cute. So cute, in fact, that Lyle might go crazy if he didn’t tickle him right then and there.

He shouldn’t have said it. There was every chance Sam would say no or kick him out. He should have just gone for it. But it slipped out anyway.

“Sam… I’m going to tickle you.”

The room was filled with electricity. Sam’s eyes were stuck to him, his mouth open slightly as he blinked and processed the announcement. He didn’t say anything for several moments, nor did he when Lyle’s hand, still under his, interlaced their fingers and rose it up, bringing his other hand up as well. From beneath his robe there was the skittering of many legs and Sam’s eyes widened as he saw a flash of Lyle’s true form, still mostly obscured by his cloak. Then, Lyle struck.

Sam did giggle. He giggled quite a lot, apparently. Lyle’s legs dug and squirmed and poked into Sam’s body with a careful, experimental determination that was apparently very effective. Even Lyle himself sometimes wasn’t sure whether his extra appendages were meant to be arms or legs, as they seemed to serve either purpose. They each had a few toes (fingers?) on each of them that allowed him to wiggle into Sam’s sweater and pinch at the nervous, twitching flesh beneath. Sam’s arms trembled in his grip, but Lyle could tell he wasn’t pulling as hard as he could have been.

Although I’d be curious to see what he did look like struggling. A flush of hot, warm sensation shot through Lyle that he tried to shake off. He couldn’t go too overboard yet. Even if the people in those videos did… even if he wasn’t sure if Sam would stop him…

“You’re pretty ticklish,” Lyle said wonderingly, scratching at the spot under his arms that was making Sam whine—whine!—and wriggle violently. “This must be, like, intense for you.”

It certainly looked like it was. Lyle was only using six hand-feet at the moment, two under his arms, two at his sides, and two that plucked at his ribs. He had more, but this alone was causing Sam to squirm frantically, arching his back and kicking his legs uselessly. And it was rather a lot. Back when he was still human, something like this might have made Lyle beg much faster than Sam was—even though it undeniably tickled the man somewhat fierce.

Lyle’s comment seemed to do something to him though. Sam let out a strangled sound, shaking his head. He was refusing to look at Lyle during this process, boring a hole into the left wall with his eyes instead. “L-Lyhyhyhyhyle!” He struggled for a moment, laughter stealing away his speech, but all he could get out again was, “Lyle!”

Lyle paused, startled by the sudden exclamation. Then he grinned, a slow, cautious thing, and rose a brow. “That is my name,” he agreed, amusement and a sudden, unexplored sadism fighting for a spot at the forefront of his mind. “Was there something you needed?”

Two more hands, pinching at his knees now. Sam squeaked, his legs now bicycling and thumping against the couch. Clearly a ticklish spot. He just couldn’t stop laughing. Lyle, who had never been allowed to hear the sound before, now was inundated with a never-ending wave of Sam’s laughter that washed through the apartment and somehow made everything just a little bit brighter than before.

“C’mon,” Lyle continued teased, pinching further up his legs. This sent Sam scrambling into a mess of giggles as he fought to squirm back into the couch. “Is something bothering you? Perhaps there’s somewhere else you want me to go for?”

Two of his legs reached for his stomach but Sam recoiled quickly, his arms shooting out of his grip in protection. Lyle paused, worried for a moment that he had overstepped. But Sam didn’t seem angry or annoyed. He just coughed, awkwardly wavering one hand as explanation. “Sorry. It’s, uh, hard to keep my hands up.”

The image of the video flashed in Lyle’s mind. He clicked his legs together nervously before suggesting, “I could do something about that. Make it so they can’t move.”

There was that look again, that nervous, wide-eyed doe look that Lyle was quickly picking up didn’t mean he was uncomfortable per se but rather… embarrassed? Flustered? Possibly horny, though Lyle didn’t want to read into things too much. But definitely into it. Sam didn’t say anything, but Lyle had the feeling he wasn’t going to. So, he acted for him.

It all happened so fast that Sam only had time to gasp as his hands were restrained over his head, bound tightly by what looked like film tape. Lyle secured it around the back of the couch and sat back. Sam sat stunned, trussed up and blushing like a young girl on her first date—like this didn’t look like something out of a horror film to anyone else.

Then, before he could overthink it, he dove back in.

Sam reacted perfectly. The moment Lyle’s hands touched down on his stomach, his head shot back with a bark of laughter, and he began really struggling in a way he hadn’t before. Not that it did him a lot of good like this.

He thought back on the video. The guy in that did a lot of teasing, and from what Lyle could deduce, it seemed to make things worse. He felt a little silly, but he said, “Y-You look pretty cute like this—all helpless.”

Sam’s ears tinted pink and he shook his head, as if that would somehow block out Lyle’s words. He was laughing too hard to speak, but he shot him a pleading look that seemed to translate shut up pretty well. Emboldened by the reaction, Lyle continued on, a bit more confidently this time.

“It’s a real shame, since you seem to be so ticklish. Especially this belly. Very ticklish here.”

“N-Nohohoho!” Sam managed, squeezing his eyes shut. He squealed when Lyle’s hands slipped under his shirt, scribbling over the sensitive skin there. He couldn’t stop squirming around, seemingly desperate to get Lyle off the spot. “D-Don’t!”

It was almost exactly like the guy in the video. Lyle almost pointed this out before realizing this would reveal his own deception in this process, something he definitely did not need Sam knowing about—not if this relationship was going to go anywhere. Instead, he tickled him harder until Sam was giggling too much to possibly say anything else. Almost every laugh, every protest, seemed to match perfectly with the content Sam had been watching. With, of course, the exception that Sam seemed much more ticklish than any of the other guys had been. Sometimes Lyle would play games with it to see if he could get the exact same reaction with each technique. It only worked some of the time, but it was fun to watch Sam almost incredulously fall to pieces at how ticklish it all was.

Lyle was having so much fun, he almost didn’t realize how long he had been at it. Partly because Sam hadn’t said anything. He struggled, sure, and pleaded with Lyle, but never about the tickling itself. It was always not that spot or no teasing but never stop tickling. And Lyle had no problem going along with his passivity. There was something strangely thrilling about tickling Sam and feeling the other man squirm underneath him, his body gradually growing more flushed and hot and his laughter developing into strange, animalistic sounds that made Lyle a tad breathless.

He had never seen this side of Sam before—feral and desperate. Perhaps a bit of it, in combat, but never as vulnerable as this.

Sam really loved this. Sam really loved being tickled by Lyle.

Lyle couldn’t give that up just yet.

The only reason he even noticed the time passing was the sound of a knock at the door. Shit. It must have been ten already. And here Sam was, half delirious with laughter and looking like Lyle had done much more peverse things to him than just a bit of tickling.

Quick as a flash, Lyle released the film, freeing Sam and allowing him to slump over in an exhausted heap. Lyle wasn’t even sure Sam noticed the knocking. Glancing around nervously, Lyle eventually decided to scoop the man up in his arms and carry him into the bedroom. He laid Sam down, the other just beginning to become aware of his surroundings once more and headed to the doorway. Sam’s shirt was trussed up, his jeans tugged down slightly so that the edge of his boxers peeked out from the top. Lyle hesitated for a moment, lamenting how attractive Sam was like this and how he certainly couldn’t stay any longer to drink it in. He shut the door and raced around to the front door, closing his cloak around him.

He pushed it open to Hellen, Sophie, and Joel staring at him with wide eyes.

“Lyle?” Sophie asked incredulously, tilting her head. “What are you doing here?”

“Um!” Lyle said, twittering his fingers together. “On a playdate! I mean, just a friendly visit. Discussing photography and such. Anyways! Sam is very tired and had to go to bed, as do I, so if you don’t mind—"

He pushed past them, quickly heading back to his floor. As he fled, he heard Hellen murmur behind him, “What a weirdo.”

Back in his room at last, Lyle collapsed on his bed, heart racing. He couldn’t get the memory of Sam saying his name through half-crazed laughter out of his mind. What was that? And more importantly…