Chapter Text
Alastor was having a bad week.
First, his radio station got infested with termites so he couldn't perform until it was fully fumigated and inspected.
Second, the kill that Vincent and he had planned was a bust. Their target took an unexpected trip to California before the hit was set to take place. It had now been 26 days without a kill.
Third, he was out of organ meat for the time being. He had eaten the last of the liver last night. And now he had no idea when he'd be able to restock.
In short, he was agitated and stir-crazy.
Though, he had an outlet now.
He and Vincent had made a rather silly deal while intoxicated. When Alastor was craving violence and couldn't satisfy it normally, his business partner would allow himself to be tortured...
Alastor could admit in the privacy of his head that the method of torture was a little embarrassing. Both in how juvenile and harmless it was, plus the fact that he really really enjoyed it.
Tickling.
Vincent, to Alastor's delight, was devastatingly ticklish. An absolute joy to toy with.
And now... Alastor was going to cash in on their little deal, put his twitching fingers to work.
Vincent was still at work, though he would be getting off soon. He was typically back home by 5:40. Easy.
He slunk through the bayou to Vincent's house. The man had given him a spare key. The trusting fool.
He slipped in through the back door, toed his shoes off (Alastor was not so tactless as to track swamp water through Vincent's home), hid behind the corner of the wall close to the front door, and waited for his victim to arrive.
...
Days at the tv station varied from exciting to exhausting to everything in between.
Today, Vincent was bored out of his skull.
He did his typical news report, then was in what felt like never ending meetings, full of people who talked and talked but said nothing.
Those damn higher ups... More power and attention than Vincent but didn't even know how to use it properly.
Plus that guy who hosted the talk shows kept going on and on about the crowds of fans and people screaming for his attention.
The bastard... rubbing it in.
He'd have to bring his name up to Alastor next time they met.
Vincent sighed as he got in his car and began his drive home. He wasn't sure exactly when he'd get to see Alastor again now that their kill had been called off. Maybe bringing up the redhead from the station the right way... he could persuade Alastor on that.
He yearned to see his business partner again. Days were often dull without him.
What was he going to do after a drag of a day like that? Go home, heat up some canned soup (that was about all he knew how to cook), sit in front of the tv for hours, then go to bed.
He groaned as he stepped out of his car in his driveway. Maybe there'd be a movie he hadn't seen being broadcasted. He needed something to make him laugh after having a painfully fake people-pleasing smile plastered on for 8 hours.
He unlocked his front door, stepped inside, and took a long deep sigh.
God he missed Alastor. He could almost smell his cologne. The man took frequent trips to the bayou so he often had an earthy musk that somehow mixed incredibly with a spicy cinnamon aroma.
The smell was so vivid. It was almost like he was-
The wind was taken out of him as a blur grabbed him and shoved him against the wall, chest-first.
A shorter figure. The scent of cinnamon and moss enveloping him.
His alarm melted once he realized who the blur was.
"Evening, Al." He greeted in a slightly strained but remarkably calm tone.
God, the man could kill him right now and he wouldn't care. What mattered was that he was here.
Though being pinned to the wall was new. He was curious what that was about. But he was absolutely not complaining. In fact, he was perfectly fine with staying like this. All night... Alastor pressed against his back.... Hands gripping his jacket.
He could feel his breath on the back of his neck and he shivered.
He took another deep breath of the scent. The aroma set deep into his bones, melting any tension from him in seconds.
And that rich syrupy voice purred so close to his ear. "Do you remember the little deal we made?"
Vincent blinked, slowly coming out of his happy place.
His face flushed and his stomach leaped. Was he actually-?
It would make a lot of sense actually. When they first made the deal he specifically pointed out craving activity when going without violence.
The lack of kills plus being out of the studio must've been eating him up.
He was pressed more firmly against the wall as one hand wandered to lightly tap a single finger to his ribs.
"Are you ready to fulfill your end?"
Vincent jolted and gasped, his nerves lighting up with anticipation.
This was not in his wildest dreams how he expected his night to go but he couldn't be more happy about it.
He cleared his throat and attempted to steady his accelerating heartrate.
"I, uh... Y-yeah, Al. If it'll help out your frustration..." His voice came out uncertain and hesitant, but that was truly only because of him not wanting to sound too eager.
"The amount of seconds it takes for you to lay on your bed with your arms up is the amount of seconds i spend at this little spot here to warm-up." A firm tap to his lowest ribs elicited an embarrassingly high squeak. Alastor chuckled, likely entertained by his reaction.
Abruptly, Alastor stepped back, leaving Vincent shaking on jelly legs as he stumbled back from the wall.
Then what he had said hit him like a truck.
Vincent bolted to his bedroom, whipping around the corner so clumsily he almost ran straight into the door frame. He forcefully kicked his shoes off into the hall and all but dove onto his bed before scrambling so he was laying flat on his back with his arms over his head.
The shorter man casually walked in with a sly smile. "Fourteen seconds."
Fourteen. Vincent could do fourteen. That was manageable.
The bed dipped as Alastor climbed on it and-
Hooooly shit.
Alastor threw one leg over Vincent's hips and sat down, straddling his waist.
Vincent was laying on his back... with Alastor on top of him... staring down at him with half-lidded eyes and a satisfied smile...
He was sure if he was standing up his jaw would be on the floor. This was like something out of a fantasy.
"I'm afraid you'll have to help me keep count. You can do that, can't you?"
Alastor could've asked him to lasso the sun and he would've said yes.
Vincent cleared his throat and nodded.
"Good. Count backwards from fourteen. If you rush through, skip any numbers, or bring your arms down, I will make you start over."
...He should've known Alastor wouldn't make this easy. Alastor never made anything easy. The man loved to watch Vincent squirm.
Vincent's heart leapt to his throat when he felt Alastor's index fingers rest on his lower ribs.
That's when his brain finally went from 'Alastor Alastor Alastor' to the realization that he was about to be tickled half to death. Maybe even three-quarters.
"Start whenever you're ready." Came that cotton-soft purr.
After taking a moment to remember how counting worked he closed his eyes and nodded.
"Okay... Um, Fourte-EEHEHEHEHEEEEEN! AIIEEE!" All the air in Vincent's chest was yanked out of him as his nerves buzzed to life, Alastor's dextrous fingers rapidly pressing and poking on the happy little nerves. Fuck fuck FUCK he forgot how ticklish he was there! The last of his air was expended with a near glass-shattering shriek before he was able to wheeze some air back into his lungs and start his laughter all over again. His socked feet rapidly kicked and drummed on the bed and the muscles in his arms tensed with an overwhelming need to rush down and protect his sensitive ribs.
"Come now, Vincent, don't keep me waiting!" Alastor's voice sounded remarkably jovial. One look to his expression showed how delighted he was to be tormenting him.
"THII- THIRR- AHA! THIRTEHEHEHEEEEEN! TW- TWEHEHEL- SHIT!"
Right in the middle of 'twelve' Alastor began squeezing his bottom ribs in tandem. His arms, at that point, stopped caring about the challenge against Vincent's wishes and slammed down on Alastor's hands.
His fingers did, in fact, stop their torment, but it was nowhere near a relief.
"Really? So soon? How disappointing. You truly must be horribly sensitive. Well, you know the rules! Arms up, start from fourteen again."
Alastor sounded anything BUT disappointed. He tapped his index finger to Vincent's rib again. The man squeaked remarkably high-pitched before letting out a humiliatingly goofy little giggle that had him flush a light pink.
Alastor's devious little grin quirked to the side to something clearly amused but trying to suppress it.
Vincent plopped his head back and giggled a bit more, feeling equally giddy and dreadful, as he raised his arms above his head once more.
He took a couple deep breaths, trying to calm down and stop laughing before he even got tickled, but every time he tried to focus his mind would remind him blaringly loud that he was about to be tickled to an intense degree once again. His ribs would practically light up and he'd start giggling all over again.
God this was embarrassing. He raised his head a bit to look at his tormentor.
Alastor's grin was wide, bright, wholly amused. His eyes practically twinkled and he was chewing on the side of his lip.
It wasn't funny. It was cute, but not particularly funny.
Didn't stop Vincent from cracking up anyway.
"Pffft- Psh- Pfftahahaha!" He threw his head back and laughed. This was so ridiculous. So silly.
So fucking FUN.
It was exactly what he needed after today.
"I'm nohot eheven doing ahahahanything yohohou- pfft- yohohou dohoholt!"
Alastor held the back of his hand to his mouth, once eye nearly shut as his smile took up more space across his gorgeous face as he chuckled right along with Vincent.
"Ahahal! Ihihit's thehe ahahanticipation!" He half-heartedly defended himself amongst contagious little titters.
"Just start already!" Alastor playfully snapped, no ire or aggression in his voice.
Fuck it, just jump into the deep end!
"FohohourtEEHEHEHEHEEN! ACK! AIEEHEHE! TH-THIRTEEHEHEHEEN! EEE! T-TWEHEHEHEHELVE!"
His poor lower ribs were going to disintegrate at this rate from the maddeningly ticklish poking and prodding. Vincent forced himself to look at Alastor whilst his body commanded him to curl up and close his eyes. He's glad he didn't listen. Alastor was still beaming, now biting his bottom lip, and his shoulders shook with repressed laughs.
For a moment he forget what came before twelve.
And his memory lapse was made worse by Alastor once again switching to a squeezing tactic.
"FUHUCK! IHIH- AHAHA DAHAHAMMIT!"
His arms flinched but he succeeded in not yanking them down.
"SHIT! AIIEHEHE! E-EHEHEHELEHEHEVEN! EEE! TEHEHEHEN!"
Vincent managed to force another deep wheezy breath of air.
"NIHIHINE! EEE! EHEHEHEIGHT!"
If he could stop squeaking like a mouse attempting to sing falsetto that would be fucking fantastic.
But, hey, if it made Alastor look like THAT? Beaming hugely and genuinely and fighting off laughter of his own? Maybe it was worth the humiliation.
"SEHEHEHEVEN!"
"Halfway there! Don't choke now..."
Halfway? It felt like he'd been there for an hour!
Alastor was doing a remarkable job of keeping steady despite Vincent thrashing and wriggling like a fish on a hook.
Alastor's fingers stopped their squeezing and switched to massaging little circles into the bones.
And Vincent was sure he'd perish right then and there because holy fucking shit that tickled so unbelievably bad.
And his monumental squeal absolutely let Alastor know that fact.
"Ohoho! I do remember this technique being awfully effective here..."
For a moment, every muscle in Vincent's body was taut as he cackled with every bit of oxygen he possessed.
Another wheezy gasp, a moment of hyperventilation, and more high-pitched fully body laughter.
Count! Fucking count goddamit!
"SIHIHIHIX! F-FIIIIIIIHIHIHIVE! AHACK! F-FOHOHOHOHOUR!"
Holy shit he might pass out at this rate.
"THREEEEEHEHEHEHEE!"
The circle rubbing stopped, replaced with squeezing with one hand and scribbling on the other.
His arms tensed and dropped... just a couple inches.
Oh, if they had dropped all the way Vincent might've combusted on the spot.
"You're so close..." That sugar sweet voice cooed above him.
"TWOOHOHOHOHO! EE! AIEEE! OHOHOHOHONE!"
The moment Alastor stilled his fingers Vincent's arms rocketed down to his sides, desperately pressing and rubbing against his ribs to rid himself of the phantom sensations still clinging to his tingling nerves.
He gasped, panted for air like a man half-drowned.
"Well. That was a pleasant warm-up!"
Vincent's heart stopped for a moment before he laid slack in defeat. He had said warm-up in the beginning hadn't he?
Alastor chuckled, no doubt amused by his reaction to the reminder.
"Just..." Vincent took another breath. "No more ribs, please?"
He knew making a request to Alastor was about as reliable as asking a bird not to fly, but it was worth a shot.
"Why?" Alastor cocked his head to the side with a cocky grin. "Do you have a specific spot in mind you're wanting me to target?"
He stiffened, his mind supplying him with an immediate answer. Yes. The answer was yes.... but knowing Alastor's desire to torment him... he probably wouldn't go for it. Also it was just really embarrassing to admit that he really really wanted to be tickled in a specific spot...
No. He'll table that for another day. Instead he just opened his mouth like a fish and closed it.
"Hm..." Alastor hummed with a knowing grin, making a show of contemplation. "Perhaps we can make a little deal. You tell me your worst spot and let me play with it for, oh, sixty seconds, and then I'll target the spot you're so clearly thinking about right now for a couple minutes or so, depending on how much it amuses me."
Oh that was a dangerous deal. Sure, sixty seconds at his worst spot in order to be tickled at his favorite spot sounded great, but that meant Alastor would forever know weakness and it did not at all guarantee he'd ever pay attention to the easier spot ever again.
Though, honestly? Vincent wouldn't admit it out loud, but he loved being tickled so much that he'd be fine with that, as long as Alastor kept touching him and making him laugh.
"Sound fair?" Alastor asked, prodding for an answer to his proposal.
"Not at all," Vincent answered with a tired lopsided grin. "But I accept anyways."
Alastor laughed, amused by his answer. "Understandable. Now, the information?"
Vincent threw his head back and closed his eyes. He couldn't believe he was doing this. "My favorite spot is my sides. My worst spot..." His self-preservation instincts, as miniscule as they were, tried to stop him, but Vincent didn't listen, just like every other time they made themselves known. "My pits."
As he expected, he almost immediately felt the presence of a finger at his underarm. His entire body jolted, his smile immediately flipped to a nervous grin, and his eyes shot open.
A warm dangerous chuckle. "My, my, you weren't kidding. Now, the deal was sixty seconds."
Cold dread doused him head to toe. "Oh, do NOT make me count, PLEASE, Al-"
Alastor laughed loudly. "Oh, alright, fine. I'll keep count in my head. Now keep your arms-"
"Oh, God-!"
He couldn't do this again.
Vincent grabbed his belt buckle and began undoing it. Before Alastor could get any ideas Vincent started explaining himself. "Just, fucking, tie my hands to the headboard with my belt, there's no way on Earth I'm gonna be able to keep them up on my own."
The sound of Alastor's resulting laugh, not the perfect mocking laugh, a huffy giggly laugh born from amusement rather than schadenfreude, made Vincent smile while he slid his belt from the loops of his pants.
He practically slammed his hands against the posts of the headboard with the belt now laid against his chest.
He was grateful now that he had a headboard with posts instead of one solid slab of wood, because that meant the belt could be easily looped through it for simple bindings.
Bindings...
Wait.
Alastor was straddling his waist and now he was binding his wrists to the headboard while staring down at him with those pretty eyes-
Fuck what did he just do? If anyone saw them like this... he wouldn't blame them for thinking they were about to... y'know...!
Thank God he invested in blackout curtains. It was originally to hide any evidence of the whole serial killer thing, but this was also very necessary to hide.
If Vincent had heard of another man doing this he would obviously assume they're a queer but Vincent... he wasn't- it's not like he... Alastor was just a pretty man but normal men can appreciate other men's attractiveness without being queer!
His spiraling thoughts were zapped away by two simultaneous pokes to his underarms. He squealed like a dying squirrel yet again, eliciting an amused chuckle from Alastor.
Honestly? He was welcome for the distraction. The belt was now firmly wrapped around his wrists and keeping them above his head while his nerves were ready and receptive for the delicious torture they were about to receive.
"I'll count to sixty in my head. Are you ready?" Alastor lifted his hands and wiggled his fingers.
The deadly cocktail of freezing cold dread and warm bubbly mirth brewed in his belly as he nodded.
And that cocktail ignited into explosive laughter the moment Alastor began wiggling all ten fingers into hyper-sensitive pits.
"PFFTAAAHAHAHA- AAEEEEEHAHAHA! A-AHAHAHALAHAHAHASTOHOHOHOHOR!" He positively wailed.
His back arched as he threw his head back hard into the mattress, the belt buckle jingled and clinked from the frantic tugging, and his feet were practically stampeding over the blankets behind his tormentor.
His entire frame quaked with each booming laugh and hilarious squeak, leaving him an absolute wreck of laughter and mirth.
Beyond his own cacophony he soon heard Alastor's laugh intertwining with his own.
He wished he could enjoy it more but every cell in his brain could only form one thought:
"IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES! AHAHA- IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES SOHOHO BAHAHAHAD! EEK!"
"Ihihihi cahahahan tehehehell! Yohohou- snrk- yohohou sohohound sohoho hihilahaharious! Ahaha!"
It was somehow familiar, a mirror of that night where they made the deal. Alastor over Vincent, tickling him to pieces, while the two of them laughed their hearts out.
Though, they couldn't blame it on alcohol this time. It was a very deliberate choice from both parties to end up like this.
It was perfectly worth it in Vincent's mind. Sure he was exhausted and occasionally felt like he couldn't breathe, but it paled in comparison to the overwhelming joy and fulfillment of laughing so hard mixed with the companionship and closeness of this activity with his dear business partner.
'Business partner' seemed too flat a label now, didn't it?
Whether it was because Alastor ended the count or because Vincent's laughs were occasionally going silent, he relented. He lifted his hands and placed them on the bed either side of his body.
Every muscle that Vincent possessed went slack immediately. He sank into the mattress, utterly exhausted. His chest rapidly rose and fell with each greedy breath he took.
"Holy shit... any longer and I might've fainted."
Alastor laughed openly once again.
Vincent let out an 'OOPH' as Alastor laid down abruptly, head resting on his arms laid across Vincent's chest, staring him directly in the face with an unusually happy smile.
"Your ears are red again," he snickered.
Vincent looked to the side, partially hiding his face in his shoulder. Yes, sue him, he was a bit hot under the collar. Could you blame him? Alastor was literally laid on top of him with their faces less than 6 inches apart.
Alastor just wasn't a touchy person. He typically flinched away from stuff as simple as a squeeze on the shoulder. It was a point of tension early on in their partnership. Vincent was a touchy kind of guy. It was great for building rapport early with people so he'd kind of adapted it that way, but he also just liked some friendly contact.
So this? THIS? It was completely unexpected in the best possible way.
His eyes darted back to Alastor. Specifically his lips. A similar shade to the rest of his skin but with a gentle tinge of pink. Lightly parted. Rather large and soft looking...
What was he thinking?! No. No! Those were not normal thoughts.
He was just... it was... It just-
Another squeal broke the silence as Alastor slid a finger across his side. His grin was satisfied and content.
"This was your requested spot, wasn't it?" He asked so innocently with an expression that was anything but.
Oh Lord help him, he could not be tickled there while Alastor stared at him like this...
Alastor rested his chin directly on Vincent's chest while his hands went to work gently skittering fingers up and down his sides.
Vincent didn't even notice the whimper he let out as he melted into the mattress. The pathetic little sound was quickly eaten up by a steady stream of high-pitched giggling as his eyelids fluttered.
Alastor blinked at him in surprise. "You seem to really enjoy this." His tone held no judgement, only curiosity.
Vincent nodded lazily and lolled his head to the side. his brain practically melting out his ears.
"Fascinating." He purred softly. As far as Vincent could tell in his less-than-alert state, Alastor didn't seem to be plotting, simply absorbing what was happening. "What's it like?"
"Ihihihit tihihickles..." Vincent huffed out a few more small fits of relaxed giggles. "Feeheheheels good."
Alastor didn't respond. He simply watched with an easy smile.
Vincent was fine with that. His head was in the clouds. He couldn't remember a time he was this happy. It wasn't just because of the tickles, though that was a factor.
It was Alastor. A man he admired so deeply and wholly, a man so capable and cruel, a man so dangerous and unpredictable... laying here with him. On TOP of him. Those eyes, that smile, that laugh... All of it here. With him.
This whole thing at first seemed to be solely so he could torture, cause as much pain and discomfort as possible.
But that wasn't what was happening. Alastor never treated victims like this. Giving into pleading, asking them questions, watching with such soft and curious eyes.
Vincent would have more luck guessing how many blades of grass on the planet than what was going on in Alastor's head at any given moment.
But right here. Right now?
This wasn't sadism. It was something else.
Vincent knew what he hoped it was.
Care. Friendship. Endearment. All things Vincent felt about him but was sure weren't reciprocated.
Whatever the Hell was going through that man's head... Vincent appreciated it and wanted to savor it.
Alastor's fingers danced lazily over his sides. The touch was gentle and careless, simply a mindless motion with all his focus on Vincent's reactions.
More giggles and squeaks poured from his slack expression, shaded lightly pink and positively glowing in satisfaction and peace.
Leaving his little place in the clouds was gradual rather than abrupt. He hardly noticed the lack of touch until Alastor was already shifting to leave the bed.
"Well, I found that delightfully rejuvenating." He said as he stretched. "As I'm sure you did as well."
"Mm? We done?" Vincent firmly blinked his eyes to quickly get his head back on his shoulders.
"I assume you do want dinner do you not?"
"Uh- yeah? I was just gonna heat up some soup-"
"Ugh. You eat like an animal." Alastor quickly leaned over Vincent to undo his belt and tossed it onto his stomach. "I've noticed you keep your kitchen bare of anything with flavor. If I'm going to keep coming over here that needs to change. Put your belt back on. You're driving us to the grocery store so I can tell you exactly what to buy and keep stocked."
Vincent snickered. There's the bossy Alastor he remembered. He sat up resting on his elbows with a relaxed smile, still a tad hazy.
"I'm not exactly a chef, Al, so I'm not sure-"
He was cut off AGAIN while Alastor briskly walked out of the room. Vincent quickly hopped off the bed and followed as he slid his belt back into place and buckled it.
"I'll teach you how to cook eventually. For now, I just want to have actual ingredients to work with if things get sticky out there again. I had to cook scrambled eggs with salt and pepper and nothing else. That was an insult."
"The eggs were great, Al! Better than what I can make."
Alastor turned to him like he had grown a second head.
"You thought barely seasoned scrambled eggs were great? And they were BETTER than what you can make?"
"Yeah, like I said, I'm not a chef."
A firm smack to the back of the head. "That's not chef level, you dimwit!"
"Ow." Vincent answered simply. Then he blinked and smiled. "Wait. You said you wanna teach me?"
Alastor grumbled as he started putting his shoes on, which Vincent immediately copied with his own. "I'm not going to have my associate eating like a stray dog unable to provide himself with even a basic meal. If I was able to teach you how to cut up a body I'm sure I can teach you how to cook gumbo." He adjusted his shirt, looked to Vincent's belt, then met his eyes. "Now. Car. You're going to eat actual food tonight."
"How could I say no to that gracious offer?" He chuckled and held the front door open.
"You can't." He answered simply.
And it was true. For absolutely anything if it came from Alastor.