#so .......

It’s unbearable, it’s absolutely awful, he’s never hated anything more and before this he hasn’t gotten the chance to be touched like this, so affectionately playful, in so long and he can’t bring himself to seriously tell Aether to stop. He really can’t stand being reduced to such a humiliating version of himself that by all means he wanted hidden, truly, he can’t.

And that’s what he’s desperately trying to communicate to Aether right now.

“Oh, shove it with your excuses, I know you like this.” Aether trails spidering hands up the sides of his unwilling victim. His grin looks like it might split his face in half and Scaramouche hates the fact that he’s enjoying his suffering.

His hands are gripping Aether’s as hard as he can, pushing and pulling and trying anything to get him to stop just for a second so he can breathe, but those tickling fingers are determined in  their quest to make Scara pass out.

“You- You don’t know anythihihing! GAH, STOP! Fuhuhuuck-!!” Scara twists and turns, bucking his hips and smacking and pushing at Aether’s shoulders. For one blissful moment, it stops.

Panting, Scara wraps his arms around his torso and tries to kick Aether off of his thighs with the remaining strength he has, but even at his full energy that’s nothing compared to Aether. Which is to say– He fails. Despite his continued struggling, Aether doesn’t move and just starts running his mouth again.

“Say it.” That grin of his almost looks sadistic. He wiggles his awful fingers above Scara’s stomach, where his shirt has long since rode up far past where it originally sat fully protecting his sensitive skin. Now, though, he trembles and grabs both Aether’s hands on instinct. The blonde gives him a stupidly charming grin, but it’s still terrifying, the way Aether doesn’t even attempt to move his hands out of Scara’s grip, like he knows Scara knows that Aether will stop when he feels like it.

And Scara does know that. He flushes deeper, and trembles more. “Piss off! I don’t like this. I don’t like you! In fact, it’d be absolutely wonderful if you could get off- Nononostop!!” Aether drops his hands back down to Scara’s stomach, kneading at the soft, ticklish skin there and Scara howls, squealing with high pitched laughter. Trying to fight Aether off hasn’t done him any good up to this point so he slaps his hands over his mouth, trying to stifle the embarrassing, delighted squeaking and cackling. “Mmmhmph-!! Nnnh..!” 

To be completely truthful, Scara does like this. In fact, he’s not sure if he’s ever adored a physical feeling more. Aether’s hands are warm and the way he laughs with Scara feels less as if he’s making fun of him and more like he’s just enjoying making Scara laugh and that knowledge gives him fluttery feelings that he refuses to think about. Even so, that flustered, giddy feeling is just as delightful as the rest. The only part of this he can say he hates is that Aether’s trying to make him admit it, and even then- That’s merely because the prospect of admitting something like that is embarrassing.

“I hate you, I hahahate you so muhuhuhuch! No, nononohoho!! Not, not that-! Aether!” Scara pushes at Aether’s shoulders and bucks as much as Aether’s position will allow him, but none of that stops the traveler from digging his fingers into his hips, massaging in circles. Sometimes slow, sometimes fast, or both with either hands. He keeps the pattern completely unpredictable and combined with what he knows is Scara’s worst spot, he’s really trying to completely murder him. At last, he’s going to get rid of Scara forever and it’s going to be by way of tickling.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you do, and that’s why you’ve never stopped me once.” Aether’s sarcastic tone paired with his completely false and not at all correct accusations make Scara gasp with offense and not because he’s being mercilessly tickled within an inch of his life. “That’s also why you’re not admitting you like this, right? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you won’t do it so I’ll tickle you more!” Aether says, pressing all ten fingers into Scara’s hips and just above them, targeting both his sides and his hips while he evilly vibrates his fingers into the skin. The feeling makes Scara jolt and cry out with hiccuping, gasping laughter, squeezing his eyes shut and really pushing at Aether’s hands this time.

“Aether-! I cahahan’t, I, I, Ple-” Scara cuts his own pleading off, still too embarrassed to let go of his pride just like that. He won’t plead. …Not again, anyway.

“What, you can’t take a little tickling, Scara? Weren’t you all high-and-mighty just a second ago? I’m sure you can handle it, right?” The teasing only makes Scara’s desperate squirming increase, and he just starts babbling incoherent half-sentences, possibly along the lines of ‘I hate you,’ and multiple repetitions of him just yelling protests that aren’t really words.

Aether isn’t that sadistic, and moves his hands to lightly scritch in the middle of Scara’s stomach with a measly two fingers, giving him room to breathe while still tickling. He’s such a generous tormentor. 

Well, is it really tormenting if the victim likes it? Still giggling, Scara purses his lips into a tight line, muffling it just a bit. His grip on Aether’s hands goes slack and his purple eyes shine with unshed tears when he opens them to glare at Aether. “A-Ahahare you done?” He asks, gasping in between his words.

Aether, still moving his two fingers in tandem on Scara’s poor, twitching skin, doesn’t drop his smirk. “I’ll be done when you admit you like this.” His head tilts with an innocent smile present on his face all of a sudden, as if he’s not doing anything wrong at all. 

Scara doesn’t speak. For once, he just doesn’t have any sort of insult or comeback to spew at Aether for daring to do such a childish, stupid thing to him.

Aether’s evil smirk returns and he raises his hands again, only to lower them back down to idle at Scara’s sides. “Are you completely sure about this decision, Scara?” 

He’s still met with nothing but silence. 

Well, it’s not Aether’s funeral. He squeezes at Scara’s sides, laughing along with him when Scara jumps and squeals, those unshed tears starting to fall. Scara’s squealing, shrieking laughter goes silent and his squirming just increases tenfold, flailing and kicking and bucking- Anything to make it stop, but he still refuses to just say what they both already know is true.

( Aether was right before, of course. He wasn’t ready for it to stop, not yet. Now, though…)

Limits reached, Scara finally uses what he’d been acknowledging as a last resort and only that. “Okay! Okahahay, I’ll- Mmph! EEK-!! Stohohop, I’ll sahahay it!! P-Please!!” 

Lifting his hands, Aether climbs off of Scara and folds his hands on his lap, just the picture of innocent patience. 

Taking a second to breathe, Scara puts his hands to his face and mumbles something mostly incoherent. 

Aether’s smirk only widens, an evil shine in his eyes. “What was that?” 

“I said I like it, okay?! I like- I-I like when- Urrghh…” Scara rolls onto his side, scowling at the ground beneath him. It’s like the word itself is poisonous to him- Like he’ll just roll over and die if he says it.

“Come on, Scara, I believe in you!” 

“Oh, shut up! Just… Give me a second, okay?!” 

Aether waits patiently while Scara squirms and bites at his lip. “I, I like… Being…T-Tickled…”

Aether scoops Scara up into his arms, cooing and smiling at the boy now in his lap. “Awh, Scara! That was the cutest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say, ever! How can you be so precious, huh?” 

Completely flushed and embarrassed out of his mind, Scaramouche pushes at Aether’s face and kicks, trying to get out of his grasp. “Ugh! Let me go, you vile creature! Augh, Stop!”