Tim arrived downstairs in Adidas sweat pants, white socks and a baggy black Nike t-shirt.

His long curls of hair dangled either side of his face, still a little damp after such a long, warm shower.

Tim followed the scent of pizza, down the hall and past the kitchen, where he finally arrived in Armie’s living room.

It was now late afternoon.

Armie had pulled the curtains and lit candles around the coffee table.

On the couch sat cosy blankets and dozens of squashy looking pillows …

… On the floor, two china plates and an open pizza box, displaying a cheesy, piping hot pepperoni pizza with one slice missing.

That slice sat in Armie’s left hand, and it headed straight for Armie’s mouth.

As Armie chomped down on the spicy goodness, Tim felt his stomach grumble.

“Is that for me too?” He asked, almost too hopefully.

Armie rolled his eyes and spoke with his mouthful.

“Of course it’s for you, donut … “ Armie sat down on the two-seater couch and then made some space beside him, “ … Before you come join me, go grab us some beers in the fridge, will you?”

Tim nodded with an excited smile and spun on his heels.

He walked over varnished floorboards, back into the kitchen and towards a shining, tall, steel-coated fridge.

He pulled the doors open and for just a moment, he allowed himself to be nosey.

Inside the fridge lay stacks of steak, red mince, salami meat and ham.

The top shelf - lined with bottles of beer …

... Tim took two.

The lower shelf - filled with vegetables.

No wonder Armie looked so good - he ate well.

Tim could no longer ignore the rumble in his stomach.

He grabbed a bottle of mayo from the middle shelf and then closed the fridge door.

With two cold beers, as well as the mayo cradled in his arms, Tim carefully returned back into the living room and plonked everything down on the wooden coffee table.

“What are we watching?” Asked Tim, as his eyes glanced up to the expensive looking TV attached to Armie’s wall.

Armie swallowed down another bite of pizza and aimed the remote at the TV screen.

‘Call Me By Your Name’ started to play.

“A classic,” Tim grinned.

He sat down beside Armie with a bounce and handed his friend both beers.

Armie cracked the lids off the bottles and gave Tim his drink.

“Cheers, to a … New type … Of friendship,” Armie held his beer between them.

Tim felt weird to celebrate such a strange situation, a situation where he now existed as a submissive component between the two ...

... A situation where he actively allowed himself to be bound and tortured, by the art of tickling.

... A situation he never, in his wildest dreams, imagined he'd be involved with.

“Cheers.”

Tim clinked his beer against Armie's.

Then, he placed a slice of pizza on his plate and neatly squirted some of the mayo over the toppings.

Armie groaned.

“Timmy ... Mayo, with pizza?” He shuffled in his seat and took another bite of his own slice, “You’re an animal … “

Tim’s jaw dropped as he overacted disbelief.

“Says you, tickle monster ... "

Armie chuckled and then playfully sent his fingers into Tim’s side, where they poked into his ribcage and then danced up towards his left armpit.

Tim protested with a deep growl.

"No, no, no!”

He adopted a karate chop position and blocked Armie’s attacks with his own arms.

Armie swallowed down some of his pizza and then returned his attention to the movie.

“Relax, I’m giving you a -little- break, remember.”

Tim opened his mouth wide and more or less took in one half of the pizza slice with his hungry jaw.

“I noticed the emphasis on the ‘little’ … ” Tim sighed as he chewed down his food.

Both boys sat in comfortable silence as they ate their pizza, drank their beers and watched a movie they both filmed together in Italy, back in 2017.

“Feels like so long ago,” Armie commented, whilst taking another slice of pizza from the box laying on the carpet.

Tim swigged on his beer and then politely hid a burp under his breath.

“Three years now … No, wait … Four?”

Armie lifted his shoulders in thought.

“Three, I think.”

As the movie played, it eventually arrived at ‘the nosebleed scene’.

In this scene, Timmy’s character Elio suffers a nosebleed and anxiously hides himself away in a closed off area within Elio’s parents home.

Oliver, Armie’s character, comes to find Elio and then sits down with him in an effort to make him feel better.

Tim noticed Armie put his pizza slice back down in the box and sit forwards in interest.

“This is one of my favourite parts.”

Oliver takes Elio’s left foot and places it in his lap.

Tim’s eyes flickered from Armie to the movie, from the movie to Armie, and then back again.

“This … This wasn’t in the script,” Tim wiped some beer from his lips and then placed the bottle on the coffee table, “I remember thinking, 'fuck, why is he putting my foot in his lap' …"

Armie kept his eyes on the screen.

“You’ve always been good at improv, Timmy.”

Tim chuckled.

“These reactions were pretty hard to fake.”

Elio squirms on the floor and attempts to pull his foot away from Oliver as Oliver toys with his toes.

“Fuck! You’ll kill me if you do that …” Tim spoke the line in the same tone as Elio, at exactly the same time the dialogue left the TV's speakers.

Armie turned to face Tim.

“You were being yourself, weren’t you … It -does- kill you, when they’re played with … “ Armie’s eyes trailed over Tim’s body and down to his socked size 11’s curled up on the carpet.

Tim shuffled his feet under himself and sat in a cross legged position.

“It drives me insane, man. I, I told you, it’s… It’s unlike any—“

Tim’s babble got interrupted by Elio hissing and gasping as Oliver ran fingers over his other foot.

Another genuine, viscerally real reaction - caught on camera.

“If I remember correctly, we only shot this once,” Armie turned his attention back to the TV.

Tim smiled as he picked his beer back up from the coffee table.

“Once was enough,” He took a swig from the bottle, “I’m not sure I could’ve handled that for a second time.”

Armie licked his lips and sat back into the sofa.

He sipped his beer slowly as he watched the movie with a hard on, excited to get to the next scene featuring more genuine tickling, which would be in about thirty minutes.

When it happened, the tickling took place at nighttime, on a balcony, and it didn’t involve feet at all.

Instead, Oliver vigorously tickles Elio’s sides, transforming him into a jellied mess.

Armie tried to look at Tim, without Tim noticing.

He shifted his eyes to the left and carefully turned his head towards his friend turned Ticklee.

Tim sat with his beer in his lap, wincing at the sight of Elio squirming into the floor, unable to handle Oliver’s tickling.

"That was the first time in so long that someone had tickled me to submission," he admitted.

Armie’s eyes trailed over Tim’s legs, waist and then towards his upper body.

He’d have to have his sides again.

His rib cage.

His armpits …

… Areas he knew were ticklish, but still not fully explored.

Not in the way he had done so far with Timmy’s feet.

Save it, thought Armie.

Don’t make too much of a good thing, he reminded himself.

We have three and a half weeks left.

Armie turned his attention back to the movie.

He found himself admiring Tim for being so open minded.

A young, New York actor, fully engaged and happy to kiss, grope and lay naked beside another man, in a film about a gay relationship.

If Tim could be so open about trying that, as well as signing a tickle contract, maybe he’d be open about other things Armie so desperately wanted to try out on Tim.

Armie thought back to a saying his Mother would always use on him.

‘If you don’t ask, you don’t get’.

So, Armie cleared his throat and placed his beer between his legs.

He eyed Tim for a moment, and then tapped the boy on the shoulder.

Tim broke his focus from the film and then took a swig from his beer as he turned his face towards Armie.

“I came on your feet, this afternoon,” Armie announced bluntly.

Tim burst into laughter, foams of beer spilling from his lips.

Armie rested his head on his hand, propping his elbow on the back of the couch.

“You did,” Tim chuckled and wiped his mouth clear of beer-fizz, “Did you just remember?”

Armie smirked, “How do you feel about it?”

Tim rolled his tongue over the roof of his mouth as his eyes searched around the couch for an answer.

“I’d ... I'd be lying if I said I didn’t find it … Different …” Tim looked into his beer, realising it was nearly empty, “ … Who knew these bad boys had such magic, huh?” Tim lifted his feet in the air and showed them off as if he were wearing a smart pair of invisible shoes.

Armie glanced up at the socked perfection and then took his eyes back to Tim.

“They certainly have a pull.”

Tim returned his feet back to the cross legged position and then in one quick swig, he finished his beer.

“How would you feel about … Incorporating some other elements, to our agreement?” Armie tread carefully.

Tim placed the empty beer bottle down on the coffee table.

“Other elements?” Tim flapped the hem of his t-shirt dry, after laughing out beer all over it.

“Yeah,” Armie nodded, “For example; -extreme- tickle torture … Edging … Some pain … “

Tim raised thick, bushy eyebrows as he shuffled awkwardly on the couch.

“Uuhh … Armie, I’m, I'm not sure,” He pulled an uncertain face and flashed his eyes open, “Extreme tickle torture? W-wasn’t the blindfold and, a-and the metal tube, and, and isn’t the ankle bed attachment extreme enough, and the--”

Armie chuckled affectionately.

“-- Just the tip of the iceberg," He cut Timmy off on purpose.

Tim ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat with uncertainty.

“… Pain?” He asked.

Armie nodded once again.

“Nothing violent, and nothing that would cause extreme hurt. There would be no bruising, no bloodshed. I don’t want to do that to you. But it would definitely push you to a different space, than you’re usually used to. And as for the edging, well … I can promise - I’ll give you the best orgasm of your life.”

Tim pursed his lips and then folded his arms over his chest.

He tried not to hide the concern that had been planted in him, after hearing 'there would be no bruising, no bloodshed'.

Just what did Armie get up to in his spare time?

Armie could see the cogs turning in Tim's head.

He loved the fact that, for a brief moment, despite some clear doubts, Tim seemed to actually be thinking about it.

Tim held his hands up, in surrender.

He could feel Armie’s predatory eyes piercing through his skin.

“Okay, I’m not saying yes, and … And I’m not saying no,” Tim’s hands fell down onto his lap, “I guess, I guess I’m saying maybe … And, a-and if it does happen, it takes time. I need to warm up, to all of this.”

Armie’s eyes twinkled in hopeful promise.

“That’s good enough, for now,” He said, satisfied with Tim’s reserved but ‘door half open’ answer.

Tim eyed Armie’s empty beer bottle.

“Another round?” He asked.

Armie hadn’t even realised he’d finished his own beer.

“Sounds like a pla—“

Armie’s words were interrupted by a buzz at the door.

Armie got up from the couch with a sigh and then did what he did best.

He ordered Tim around.

“You get the door and I’ll get the beers,” He decided.

As Armie paused the movie with the TV remote, Tim hopped off the couch and left the living room.

He walked down a set of typically narrow New York stairs and through Armie’s apartment door, where he eventually arrived in a dusty hall and at the main buildings entrance.

A Fed-Ex guy stood outside with a large, heavy looking cardboard box.

Tim pulled open the double doors and greeted the Fed-Ex guy with a smile.

“Hey, man,” He said, taking the box, "Ooft!" The thing was heavy.

“Hey, man. Sign here, please … “ The Fed-Ex guy gave Tim a pen and sheet, as soon as Tim had carefully placed the weighty delivery on the hall’s floor.

Tim scribbled his name onto the sheet and then handed it back to the Fed-Ex guy.

Tim knelt down by the box as the delivery driver returned to his truck.

Tim picked up the box and then used his feet to close the buildings doors.

With some grunts, Tim took the box back up the stairs and into the kitchen.

Armie stood by the fridge, pulling two beers from the top shelf.

He turned to look at the box with a face full of surprise.

“Ah! It’s arrived … Far sooner than I thought …”

Armie patted the kitchen table with his free hand.

Tim dropped the box directly onto the area Armie had patted and then, with a flustered sigh, he wiped some hair away from his eyes.

“What is it?” He huffed.

Armie walked towards the nearest kitchen drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors.

He handed Tim a beer and then he slid the scissors into the taped-shut lid of the box.

He sliced the scissors downwards and then pulled the box open.

Tim swigged his fresh beer and then stood on tip toes, where he peered into the box.

Fuck.

Inside, sat a woven basket with a bubble wrap lining …

… And in that basket sat lotion, feathers, electric toothbrushes, hair brushes, pink string, baby oil, leather restraints, ropes and even more feathers …

... Armie clapped this hands together in excitement, “This is all for you, kid.”

Tim took another sip of his beer as he mumbled a mono-toned, “ … Yay …”

Tim then stepped away from the box, as if it contained something dangerous, like a venomous snake, or spiders, “Why ... Why so heavy, though?”

Armie reached into the box and pulled out the basket of tickle tools.

He placed this carefully on the floor, and then reached back inside the box where he yanked away tufts of plastic bubble wrap.

He then pulled out a medium sized, black set of wooden stocks.

Hundreds of tiny holes had been punched into the stocks surface.

Tim wasn’t sure why, but something told him he’d be finding out sooner than he would’ve liked.

“Come on,” Armie couldn’t contain himself, “Let’s go try them out …”

Tim fingered his beer anxiously.

“Th-the stocks, or … Or, the, the stuff in the basket?” He wished he hadn’t asked.

Armie held the stocks under one arm as he slowly approached Tim with a panther-like look in his eyes, and with a familiar solid shape bulging beneathe his trousers.

“All of it …” He said.

With his other hand, Armie went to hold onto Tim’s left wrist, but Tim pulled away.

Not hard enough to suggest extreme protest - but with a stiff movement that told Armie this was something that he didn’t really want to do right now.

“What’s wrong?” Armie asked.

Tim looked down at his beer.

“I, I dunno, I … I was just having a … A nice time.”

Tim peered over at the kitchen door, which lead to the sight of the comfortable couch, pizza box and movie paused on the TV screen.

He wanted to be back in there, not strapped into some portable stocks and driven nuts by brand new tickle tools.

Armie could see the genuine disappointment in Tim’s face.

This had been a lot for the twenty-three year old.

Not only did he have to compartmentalise the fact he’d be out of work for the foreseeable future, but he also had to deal with this new world, this torture, this attention to parts of his body that might not of received this amount of attention before.

It was then Armie realised that he hadn’t allowed Timmy a chance to simply settle in and relax.

Armie placed the stocks by the basket full of new tools.

He picked up his beer and gently landed his hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“Let’s get back to the movie,” He said.

***

One remaining slice of pizza sat in it’s box.

It stared up at both Timmy and Armie, as they watched the rest of Call Me By Your Name.

They had now made their way through three beer’s each.

“You have it,” urged Tim.

Armie chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s yours.”

Tim leant over his knees and picked up the slice.

He tore the front part off with his teeth and then handed the second half to Armie.

With his eyes on the movie, Armie took the remaining slab of pizza with a smile and then scoffed it into his mouth.

Both boys chewed down as the soft buzz from the booze massaged their minds into a more-than-chilled state.

Tim slouched further down, into the couch.

He rolled the left sleeve to his baggy tee further up his arm, let out a long yawn and then carefully placed socked feet on the coffee table.

Before he could fully fold his legs at the ankle, Armie clicked his fingers twice.

“Never there,” He ordered, “Always here.”

Armie patted his lap.

Tim pulled a 'oh' face.

Armie kept his eyes on the movie, parting his thighs a little, allowing space for Timmy’s feet.

Tim removed his feet from the coffee table, but kept them hooked over the edges of the couch as he thought about the safest place to put them.

Tim’s toes scrunched up beneath the thick, white cotton of his socks.

Armie frowned, turning his attention away from the TV.

“What now?” He asked, with faked impatience.

Tim wrapped his arms around his shins, with his beer bottle dangling from his right hand.

“You’ll tickle them,” He said quietly.

Armie tutted.

“I won’t … “ He patted his lap once again, “ … I'll massage them.”

Tim could do with one of those.

His feet had been scratched, tickled, pressed with feather nibs, sucked, licked, covered in cum …

… They deserved a break.

Tim carefully placed his feet on Armie’s lap, as if submerging them in freezing cold water.

Then, he rested the back of his waist against the pillow pressed on the arm of the couch.

Armie’s tanned, muscular hands curled around Tim’s feet, where he then began the massage.

Tim placed his beer under his chin.

“So,” As he spoke, he felt aware that this was the drink talking, “When did you realise you had a thing … For feet?”

Armie focused on Tim’s toes as he rotated his finger and thumb around the socked pads.

Tim bit his lower lip.

Armie could feel the pull, the gentle tug.

“You are, without doubt, the -most ticklish- person I’ve ever met,” Armie commented.

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

“It’s a weakness … ” He said, pulling his foot a little again.

Armie maintained a firm hold, whilst shifting his eyes to Tim, offering him a strict stare.

“Keep still … “ He ordered.

Tim balled his fists, “I’m trying!”

Armie broke the serious stare with a smirk and then got back to answering Tim’s question.

“I must’ve been around thirteen, or fourteen …” Armie explained, “ … At high school, a boy in my class … His name was Daniel ... Well, he had the most incredible feet. I just remember being mesmerised by them, constantly, on a daily basis … “

Armie looked up at the ceiling, using the cream flatness as a blank canvas, a way to travel back and picture the teenagers feet, just how he remembered them.

“We became good friends and then one Halloween, I invited he and some others to my house for a sleep over,” Armie folded his leg at the knee, lifting Tim’s feet upward momentarily, “I made sure I slept head to toe with him, on the couch.”

Tim laughed into his bottle.

“I bet that drove you crazy, being so close to something you wanted, but couldn’t have.”

Armie nodded with closed eyes and a grin.

“Fucking torture,” He admitted, “Although, I did sneak in a few tickles, whilst he slept. I’d drag my finger over his feet gently enough, that it could’ve been an accident.”

Tim ran his thumb around the beer bottle as he watched the movie credits roll up.

“And from then, it snowballed?” He asked.

Armie nodded, applying additional pressure to Tim’s aching heels.

“Totally. It’s an intense fetish. I have many, many kinks. Many wants and needs - but ... This one overrides them all.”

Tim tilted his head.

“The tickling … Or the feet…?”

Armie hooked his index finger over the hem of Tim’s left sock and began to peel it down his ankle.

“What do you think?” Asked Armie.

Tim’s teeth bit down on the tip of his tongue as he watched Armie pull the sock slowly off his foot.

Now, his left foot sat in Armie’s lap, completely bare.

“Uhm …” Tim couldn’t hide his nerves, “ … From what I’ve experienced, I’d say ... I'd say th-the ... The tickling.”

Armie ran his thumb gently over Tim’s naked sole.

Tim gasped and attempted to yank his foot towards him.

Armie caught his ankle and held it in place.

He curled his fingers around Tim’s foot and with his other hand, he began to remove Tim’s right sock.

Tim could feel Armie’s hard on under his heels.

He knew it was a bad idea, having his bare feet so casually in Armie’s lap.

Once the credits had rolled, the film automatically switched off and the News came on.

'U.K has now entered full lockdown, with coronavirus cases worsening by the day...' Informed the News Reporter.

Armie continued to massage Tim’s feet, firmer now that the socks were gone.

He rubbed into Tim’s arches, then around the sides of his feet, where he finally arrived back at Tim’s toes.

“Have you ever heard of WikiFeet?” Asked Armie.

Tim let his head hang back over his shoulders a little as he closed his eyes.

“The celebrity ... Foot page ... Thing?”

Armie nodded, “We’re both on there.”

Tim pointed his fingers in the air, in celebration.

“That’s because we’re famous baby,” He said, with an achieved grin.

Armie rolled his eyes and slid his knuckles over Tim’s arches.

Tim hissed inward and automatically twisted his feet in Armie’s grasp.

“You said no tickling,” Tim mumbled.

Armie increased the pressure of his touch.

“It's hard -not- to tickle you," he admitted.

Tim took a sip from his beer bottle, knowing full well it was mostly empty.

"I read the comments on your page, this morning,” Armie confessed.

Tim slowly peered over at Armie.

“Anything juicy?” He asked.

Armie smiled as he used his fingers to gently pinch the index toe of Tim’s right foot.

“People love this one,” He announced.

Tim raised his eyebrows.

“That toe?”

Armie nodded.

“It came up quite a few times. A lot of people want to suck it. Someone commented, ‘it stands out from the others’ …”

Tim hid his face with his hands.

“Oh man,” He said into palms, “It’s just a toe …”

Armie looked down at the toe sitting between his own thumb and index finger.

“It’s more than just a toe,” He scoffed.

Armie’s eyes trailed over the details of Tim’s right index toe.

It protruded from Tim’s foot far longer than the others, and it’s end appeared far plumper.

All of Tim’s toes looked beautiful to Armie, but like the stranger’s comment on WikiFeet, this one stood out from the rest.

Armie cleared his throat.

“I guess, right now, the only person allowed to do … Whatever they want with it … Is me.”

Tim’s eyebrows flattened as he felt himself stiffen in his seat.

“I uh … I, I guess.”

Armie curled both hands around Tim’s right ankle and carefully lifted Tim’s foot towards his chest.

Tim’s sole pressed against Armie’s shirt.

“Even if I, like all of your other foot fans … Wanted to suck it …” Armie lifted Tim’s foot towards his lips, “ … Then I could …?” His sentence trailed into a question.

Tim wondered why Armie didn’t just do it.

Instead, he had once again suggested the idea of requiring consent.

Tim prepared himself for how this might feel.

He carefully placed his beer on the coffee table and then slouched back into the pillow.

“O-okay,” Tim chewed the nail of his left thumb, “…S-sure.”

Armie took Tim’s foot towards his mouth and gently, he popped Tim’s right index toe in-between his lips.

Then, he devoured the toe entirely.

Tim curled his hands around the couch as he felt his index toe become fully overwhelmed by the warm moisture of Armie’s tongue.

Having just one toe sucked in this way felt extremely weird.

As the seconds went by, and as Armie’s tongue travelled around the length of Tim’s toe at a faster rate, the sensitivity levels began to increase.

Armie had to hold Tim’s ankle harder, the more ticklish the situation got.

“Fuck,” Tim clenched his teeth, “Okay, stop.”

Armie didn't stop.

Tim pulled his ankle harder.

“Come on, stop it.”

Armie held on.

His lips continued their suck.

Tim threw his head back.

And then, he threw it forward.

“DAMN,” Tim’s eyes widened in ticklish panic, “Stop!”

Tim sent his free foot into the air.

He waved it around as if it were attached to a puppet string.

He felt cautious not to kick Armie in the face.

The sucking continued.

“No, Armie come on seriously that’s gotta stop now man come on it fucking tickles,” Tim blurted.

Armie spoke with his mouthful.

“It dush?” He asked, with Tim’s toe still wrapped up in his tongue.

“YES!” Tim screamed.

He reached forwards and snatched Armie’s hands away from his foot.

Or, at least, he tried to.

He pried Armie’s fingers away from his ankle, as Armie continued to suck Tim’s index toe.

He had now shuffled closer to Armie and away from the pillow.

No matter how hard Tim tried, Armie kept Tim’s foot in his grasp, and Tim’s index toe in his mouth.

Suck, suck, bite, lick, nibble, suck …

… Repeat.

Now, Armie's fingers came into play.

The began to scratch at Tim's sole.

“No, come on … C-c-come on!”

Tim used his other foot to kick at Armie’s legs.

Armie continued relentlessly.

Man, did it feel amazing to feel Tim's index toe squirm around in his mouth, -whilst- Armie tickled the foot the toe curled from.

Tim now found himself sliding off the couch and crawling away from Armie.

He started to giggle hysterically.

The tickling and the sucking and the situation and the beers …

… It became laughably unbearable.

Tim rolled onto his back, his foot still in Armie’s hands, his index toe still in Armie’s mouth.

Tim kicked his legs and thumped his fists down onto the carpet.

“Sta-hah-haha-hahapppp it, fuck!” Tim threw his upper body forwards and started to claw at Armie’s legs, thighs, and shins.

Then, he fell back and heaved out loud, breathless, almost geek-like 'HA HA, HA HA, HA HAs', with a wide grin, closed eyes and a bulging throat expelling such deep, genuine laughter.

Now both hands had started to tickle the one sole, whilst the tongue continued to curl around the index toe.

That was Tim's breaking point.

He clenched his teeth, took in a breath and reached forwards.

And then, he tickled Armie’s side.

Armie dropped Tim’s foot from out of his mouth and blocked Tim’s attacks with his elbows.

Tim’s foot slid free.

“Ohh-OooooOOoohhh!” Tim said with a croak to his high pitched tone of realisation.

Tim’s wet toe returned to his own occupancy as Armie relaxed his positioning.

Tim fell flat on the carpet, catching his breath and completely aware that he had just briefly changed the game.

“J-Jesus …” He used his palm to brush away curls that had fallen over his face.

Armie wiped his mouth clear of saliva and laughed into the back of his hand.

He licked his tongue around the insides of his mouth, savouring the taste of Tim's index toe, still very much present in his senses.

“Sensational,” He drawled, whilst flashing another serious look at Tim, “But please know, -never- tickle me. That isn't part of the deal.”

Tim knew he’d stepped over some kind of line.

And, with the look in Armie's eye considered, he knew he wouldn't step over it again.

“I’m sorry,” he rubbed his toe dry of Armie's mouth, whilst also erasing any tickly-itchy-ness at the same time, “I uhh, I ... You left me with no choice ... ”

Armie’s stern stare lessened as he let his blue eyes travel over Tim and his messy, barefoot state.

They landed on the open living room door, which lead to the sight of the new stocks and basket of toys on the kitchen table.

Armie acknowledged his own hard on, his wants, his desperate needs …

… He wanted to be the bad guy,

To revert back into his previous dominant position.

He wanted to say,

“For that, you deserve punishment ... Get naked, I'm tying you to your bed ... ”

But he also wanted to allow Tim this break,

This settlement, this moment of relief,

Even if Tim had just attempted to become the tickler, when he was quite clearly the ticklee.

Armie wanted this quiet to last for Tim, for more than just a day.

So instead, he pulled his eyes away from the kit that had been delivered some hours ago and offered his hand out to Tim.

Tim blew some more curls of hair away from his nose.

He sat up and grabbed Armie’s hand.

Armie pulled Tim up to his feet and then lead him back to the couch.

Tim sat back down with his friend, so close that they rubbed shoulders.

Armie picked up the remote and handed it to his friend.

“You choose a movie, tickle toy,” He said, whilst pulling his iPhone from the back of his trouser pocket, “I’ll order us another pizza.”

TCTLR continues in Chapter Nine - ‘New Toys’ …