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Vox walked down the halls of the tower absolutely enraged. The humiliation! The audacity! Today Alastor dared to broadcast some lies about Vox through the speakers, like he owned the place! Again! Vox fired the whole security team and made the new one rewire every damn speaker in the building.
He had Alastor as a prisoner for a week now, mocked him, tortured him, but the prick was acting like it was a vacation. Vox wanted him broken, tamed and weak in that chair, begging, spewing his secrets and occasional praises to Vox, but he couldn’t get anything from Alastor. No pain worked: the man either had pain tolerance of a brick or just wanted to piss him off — probably both.
No hypnosis worked either — even in his exhausted state, imprisoned Radio Demon was more powerful than an average sinner. There must be a way to lower his guard. Hypnotised, he would be much more bearable. Maybe Vox could even make Alastor say something nice… Vox rolled his eyes at this thought, at the way he felt. He hated that nostalgic part of himself, he hated that this prick got under his skin and never left.
Stepping into the elevator, Vox scratched his side as a loose thread tickled him. Hmm. He remembered something, a shadow of a memory from those old days. When he noticed a similar movement from Al and recorded this information as interesting and worthy of further investigation, but didn’t dare to act on it.
At least, that would be some reaction. Better than just stand there, electrocuting him for the hundredth time, feeling like a fool.
***
Alastor was sitting in the same damn chair when Vox showed up. So far, the man had been a terrible host and not a very successful tormentor.
“I knew I’d find you here,” smirked the TV man. He came closer and waved some cables behind the chair into motion.
They tugged at Alastor’s arms and positioned them above and behind his head. Another idea of Vox’s, that would, no doubt, be just as dull and uninspired as the previous ones, thought Alastor to himself.
“Well, at least when I’m tied down and stuck in your own office, you manage to find me as quickly as after a few hours. Good job! Are you going to break into another power-lust song to celebrate?”
Vox looked totally unmoved by that. He nonchalantly sat on the table corner beside him with a shit-eating grin. An act, of course.
“What should I do to you after your little broadcast today? Any ideas?” Vox tried to sound menacing. He looked for some reaction, but Alastor was innocently smiling — if this word could ever apply to him.
“Are you asking me? Well, think of something, Vincent. Make an effort.”
Vox continued, having decided to go on no matter what.
“Just so you know, you haven’t entertained anyone in the tower with your petty rumors… They all know better than to mock me. My staff knows that I’m to fear.”
“And now they know that Valentino plays rhythm games on your face.” Alastor smirked, delighted to see blush on Vox’s screen.
At that moment four cords, hissing like snakes in the air, slowly moved toward Alastor’s sides and ribs. The suit had several tears and holes in it after a week of clumsy attempts at torture, so the distasteful things found their way under the fabric. The metal clips at the ends of the cables were cold. Alastor suppressed a shiver. It felt as if they weren’t trying to hurt him, just touched the skin and stopped against it. How bizarre. Alastor looked Vox in the face.
“Electrocuting again? You have just one trick in your book, don’t you? That's sad, truly. Your team really doesn’t inspire you as much as I used to.”
Vox scowled for a flick of a second, but a smug grin replaced it quickly.
“Such a brat. I’m sowwy you don't find ewectwocuting entertaining,” Vox said with mocking pity. Then added cheerfully: “I do. Let's adjust the radio set—maybe I’ll hear some new tunes from you today!”
Alastor wasn’t sure how he felt about this new upbeat attitude. Suspicious would be the right word. Usually, Vox had been irritated before the torture even began, leaving the room completely broken and frustrated afterwards. Alastor braced himself, ready for pain, welcoming it with a smile, as always.
But something different was happening. Slightest tingles of electricity came from the cords, just teasing his skin. Twinkling at the spots the clips were rested at, poke-poke-poking at his nerves. It felt like lightest impulses were gently nudging at his ribs and sides, going up his nervous system, straight to his brain. It felt odd, itchy and kind of familiar, but he couldn’t yet put his finger on what this sensation was.
"What's this little charade about? Are you running out of electricity? It happens to men your age.” Alastor’s face expressions perfectly illustrated every sarcastic remark. He was a true entertainer, after all, unlike some other people in the room.
Vox chuckled at that, as if they were friends sitting together at the bar and cracking jokes. Alastor found himself wanting to chuckle, too. What was going on?
And at that moment, at that never chuckled chuckle, cold smooth clips, still stinging him ever so slightly, started moving around, drawing smallest circles on his ribs and sides. Alastor’s ears twitched as he recognised what the sensation was. Tingly and provoking involuntary reactions. Reactions he definitely didn’t want to show in front of his rival! Alastor gritted his teeth and stayed in place, ignoring the growing urge to squirm. Luckily, he had been smiling already. Vox wouldn’t notice.
Meanwhile, Vox was looking at Alastor with hungry curiosity, monitoring every reaction as if this was a part of an experiment.
“What’s that, old man? I’m dying to hear more of your witty comments! They really tickle my funny bone!”
Alastor shot a fiery glance at him and said nothing. His silence spoke volumes.
“I actually have some with me!” Vox’s face changed: eyes turned round and smile sharper. Now Alastor was looking at a caricature of himself. In Alastor’s voice, Vox continued.
He did repeat some jokes Alastor had told that morning — what an irony, Alastor was finally being entertained, and it was essentially by himself. He really wanted to cackle gloatingly at the rumors he spread about Vox, but that would break the dam. How unfortunate to be too witty for your own good!
These damn cords never stopped maddeningly grazing his skin at the same spots, charging him just a tiniest bit, sending sparks and impulses straight to his brain, eliciting signals of panic and masochistic joy. With Vox’s silly performance on top of that, a bubble of mirth was building up between his bottom ribs, at the very center of him, like a little sun, ready to explode.
He was on edge, smiling desperately and trying to look away. Vox returned his grin to him, literally his grin, seeing Alastor’s obvious struggle. Never dropping the act, the bastard cooed in Radio Demon’s voice.
“Oh, what’s the matter? Why don’t you laugh at your own jokes? I thought you’d be tickled to hear them!”
Does he have to keep saying the word?
“A true enterte-hehe-tehehe—” Alastor bit back the giggle.
And Vox DARED to giggle in Alastor’s voice instead.
That was the last straw.
Alastor cracked hard, laughing his head off, desperately squirming in a futile attempt to escape the tickling cords under his suit. He thought that maybe, after letting some of the laughter out, that would be easier to bear, but no — it became worse. Oh, how much he wanted to pay Vox back somehow!
”Mimicking me EHEHEHEEE to deeheehstroy me? Glaahad that I IHIHIHIHIII stihihill inspihihire you! EEEEEHEHEHE” The retort, which was meant to stab like a knife, didn’t have half of its poison when delivered with so many undignified high-pitched giggles.
Vox showed his own face on the screen and blushed — with anger or hell knows what.
“That’s it, you brat!” Vox stood up and snapped his fingers. The four cords started to actively slither under his suit, invasive and teasing. After wiggling against his sides, two went for the back and two up the underarms.
It looked like Alastor was attacked by very friendly and touchy snakes. He just burst into a fit of booming laughter. He drummed his legs against the floor and tried to kick Vox.
“I don’t think so,” Vox said, securing his legs with more cables. He stepped closer, admiring the view and listening to the helpless laughter of his enemy with a satisfied grin. That was kinda fun. Great Alastor, reacting to his touch!
But Vox really wanted to see what was happening under the suit. He felt excluded somehow, even though the cables were moving at his command. He started to unbutton Alastor’s suit and the shirt underneath to get to the bare skin.
“I had no idea you were so ticklish, Al!” Vox had to speak louder to hear himself over the stream of cackling. He stopped the teasing cords so as not to compete with them for his prisoner’s attention. The laughter died down quickly and the only noise in the room was Alastor’s panting. Was he tired after just a few minutes? Alastor flushed visibly — either from his hysterics or from the embarrassment. Vox was thrilled either way.
“I ha-had no idea you would stoop to such juvenile be-heh-avior.” Alastor tried to save his face and make Vox embarrassed about what happened.
“Really? You’d really put it this way after giggling like a school girl? Hilarious,” Vox looked at the naked tummy in front of him, “Anyway…” He lightly teased the skin with tips of his claws. “Tell me, have you seen a ticklish deer here lately? I think I heard there was one. Would you help me find him?”
Alastor gritted his teeth, turned from him and stared at the ceiling. The touch hadn’t been enough to make him laugh yet, but he knew it was a losing battle. He was pissed that Vox had found his little weakness and used it. In Hell, pain is much more common than soft touches, so his secret was safe. Until now.
The mirth began building up inside him again, and, after letting it overtake him once, it was hard to suppress the tempation to do it again. As humiliating as it was, it was not boring. It was a challenge, a game. The closest thing to fun he could get around here.
“Coochie-coochie-coo… Where’s my ticklish weettle deer? Has he run away? Oh, wait, he couldn't run away!” Alastor flushed dark-red at that. Oh, Vox would cherish this memory forever. It started off as a revenge for the broadcasted rumors, but now he was genuinely enjoying himself. First of all, caressing Alastor’s skin?? Second, looking at him barely holding laughter?? Laughter that Vox was inducing on him against his will? Yes, please.
Vox added something that worked so well on his prisoner: his claws now were charged with tiniest sparks of electricity. He sadistically slowly moved their tips from the center of the tummy to one side, then back to the center, a circle around the navel, then to the other side. Alastor’s eyes shot open. He was making frantic static noises, obviously struggling for his life in that chair, but just played the game of staying silent and refused to laugh again. This brat.
“What’s this here? Could it be the button to summon some ticklish deer?” Vox teased the idea of touching his bellybutton. But not with his claws.
He took one of the obedient cables and removed the clip from its tip. He peeled it a bit to reveal a fuzzy brush-like end that consisted of soft optic fiber bristles. Charging it with this maddening static, faint as a whisper, Vox started slowly dragging it over Alastor’s navel.
“NOOHHOHOHHO!!” Alastor immediately squealed and erupted into the loudest laughter yet, quickly going hysterical. “DOOHOHOHNT YOOHOHUU DARE EEEE!”
“Here he is! My ticklish little deer! We found him, good job!” Vox laughed along. He flicked the improvised brush all over his belly, feeling giddy himself. Alastor went absolutely ballistic, his laughter going from low cackles to high-pitched giggles and squeals. Could he make Alastor go louder?
Vox snapped his fingers and the four cords renewed their assault on different spots under the suit, while he himself was using the improvised brush in one hand and fingers of the other hand to add to the torture.
Alastor, meanwhile, was losing his mind. And over what! Over something so childish and harmless! He felt a tear from laughter running down his cheek. His face hurt from smiling, and he could have never imagined that was possible.
Vox felt giddy and drunk witnessing him like that, being a part of it. Being the reason why Alastor was breaking in front of him!
“Poor ticklish weettle deer, so sensitiiive. Who knew that I didn’t have to waste energy on electrocuting you? Could just send teeny-tiny sparks on your wittle tummy! Should I use a feather next time?” Next time? Would it be a regular thing? Vox’s antennae sparked like fireworks. “Would my wheettle deer like that?”
No response to his teasing, just squeals, wheezing laughter and occasional hiccups. The chair would be twisting and rolling around the office if it wasn't for Vox’s cables holding it, keeping in place regardless Alastor’s frantic struggle.
Damn, wasn’t Alastor beautiful like this? Panting, hair in disarray, smile bright and — for once — genuine, tears of mirth glistening in his eyes. Alright, thought Vox, what the fuck am I thinking about.
The tickling stopped abruptly. Alastor was gasping for air, his smile still wobbly and silly. He focused watery eyes on his tormentor. The tormentor was blushing more than him.
“Ha… hic! had enough? hic!” said Alastor as if he had been absolutely in control of the situation this whole time.
Vox let out a surprised chuckle.
“Are you fucking kidding me? It's just… I'm a busy man. I have other things to do beside… this.” Vox cleared his throat and awkwardly stepped away.
Vox’s face was like a cyan lamp. What was that about, thought Alastor dazedly. The cords left his suit and released his arms and legs. He was now tied to the chair just at his waist, arms free, like Vox didn't even care.
Alastor watched his rival walking out of his own office to do the important things somewhere else. Only then Alastor rushed his hands to scratch and rub his sides, ribs and other spots. Oh, that felt good. He shivered and buttoned back his shirt and suit.
He had to put his plans into motion soon. The new attitude of Vox was a bit too entertaining.
However, he was curious what a feather might feel like.