Spying from the Bayou (SFW tickle ficlet)
One sided radiostatic and implied platonic radiorose.
Vox spies on Alastor doing self tickling while talking to Rosie through his voodoo dolls.
He was hopeless. Obsessed. Pitiable. Always one step behind no matter how far forward he thought he was. His name was Vox. Even today, he thought he'd won some sparkling victory for having snuck a camera into the Radio Demon's tardis room. Normally he would be met with fuzzy images of the demon from where his stupid outdated power messed with the technology.
Now he watched crystal clear as Alastor entered, locking his door with comically sized chains and locks. Whatever he was about to do was something he really didn't want anyone to see, and Vox sat on the edge of his seat to drink every second of it. Perhaps some blackmail or a dirty secret would come of his spying.
Alastor began unbuttoning his jacket. Then suddenly his clothes poofed away into a closet, replaced by a vintage women's night gown and pants. No doubt a gift from Rosie. Alastor yawned and stretched his way into bed. Fluffy fur poured out from the gown collar, getting thinner toward his hands and hooves. Vox's heart melted at how soft the radio demon looked. Not at all like his usual conniving and murderous self. The TV demon was already drooling over the headlines. Slandering his rival's foreboding reputation. Imprinting the image of a delicate fawn into the eyes of the public.
He continued watching as Alastor cozied up in bed, pulling his pillows around him and summoning plushy voodoo dolls to his side. God, how much better could this get? He hugged the dolls close and picked at their stitched faces, absent-mindedly tearing the thread out as he stared at the ceiling. It was obvious his mind was wandering in far away places. If only Vox could see those thoughts.
The claws that had been picking at the doll eventually reached up to touch the corners of his own permanent smile. Picking away as if he could remove the invisible thread in his face, too. A small pang of guilt tugged at Vox's heart. A feeling he quickly overwhelmed with quips about how weak and dumb Alastor looked. Vulnerable. Exploitable. How so very exploitable.
Alastor suddenly rearranged himself into a sitting position. His dolls close, friends that had no choice but to do his bidding. Stay exactly how he posed them with their stitched up grins. Then he began talking to them as if they were alive or possessed the ghost of someone special.
“Rosie, dear. Are you there?”
Of course it would be Rosie. Who else? The dolls didn't make a sound, but the way that Alastor smiled…genuinely smiled with his eyes…made it seem like he could hear her voice through them.
“That's good to hear. Unfortunately my day hasn't been quite so bright. I wish I could come see you. I'm in one of…those moods. How do you call it? Yes, that word.”
Vox leaned forward as if he could step into the room himself and hear the other side of the conversation. How frustrating.
Alastor went quiet and brought his hands up to his neck. At first looking like he was trying to strangle himself, but a shift in the camera view revealed that he was spidering his hands from the top and bottom of his neck. Lightly scratching his nails across the pale, sun deficient skin. His eyes fluttered closed, his head tilting from one side to the other as if he couldn't decide which side felt better.
A deep sigh of genuine relaxation echoed in the large room. The hands moved from his neck and took turns rolling up the gown sleeve of the opposite arm. Exposing more skin and thin fur that faded out into a beautiful shade of ebony. One hand scribbled on the underside of the other forearm. Extremely slow and teasy, all the way from the elbow to wrist and back. His eyes opened, but his gaze floated off into some unknown space.
When he switched arms, his body twitched and his breath hitched. Whatever he was doing, it made him feel good. Relaxed. Cuddly. As his claws kept dancing around, he melted against his bed and hid his face in a pile of plushy dolls. Hiding the genuine curls to the edge of his smile, muffling the soft giggles and whines that threatened to be heard.
Vox was livid. He wanted to see that dumb silly little grin with a spaced out stare. Catch those disgustingly adorable sounds on record to broadcast all over Hell. Even when Alastor wasn't aware of the camera, he still made his likeness impossible to capture.
Out of what seemed like nowhere, Alastor removed his gown top. Revealing an upper body full of fluffy, curling fur. One arm tucked behind his head as the opposite hand explored with tickly touches. The fleshy underside of his upper arm, toward the armpit, down the side, and back up again. His body jerked when certain spots were grazed along, especially close to the armpit and over his ribcage. Sometimes even pulling out a sweet little giggly hum.
Vox wanted more. To have his claws dancing on those sensitive spots, eliciting those sickeningly adorable little sounds. Imagine the blackmail. Imagine the stories. Imagine his own exploding heart and popping circuits from how cute it was. He could feel his screen heating up to a point where the fans nearly kicked on.
“Rosie, shush! You're not helping! Shut up!” Alastor playfully bantered, saying mean things in the purest way. Whatever she was whispering through the dolls, given that this whole thing wasn't just imagination, had the radio demon's face turning a healthy shade of pink. He switched to the other side, playing with a fresh set of nerves.
His little hooves shivered and clicked against each other as he tried very hard not to break into a giggle fit. His smile growing with his need to hide it in the pillows and dolls.
“No,” Vox whispered at the screen, “you're going to show me that ugly little smile.”
As if he could hear him and obey his command, Alastor turned his face up. The smile completely true and bright, not hiding any shifty schemes behind its sharp teeth. Only genuine joy and fuzzy feelings. This only happened by accident, but Vox felt like Alastor was looking directly at him. Oh how his digital heart leapt at the mere fleeting thought. Hopeless.
Alastor's claws moved from his sides and both settled on his soft belly. Scribbling up the sides, over the top. His fingers moving in such an eye-catching and fascinating way. Like spider legs barely contacting his skin. it almost looked like art. The reactions even more so.
Little fawn-like bleats. Biting his lip to dam up the embarrassing noise. His hooves still clicking and kicking ever so slightly.
A single claw circled around his belly button, and that seemed to be the absolute end of his patience. He melted into a pile of giggling goo. Draping the idle arm over his mouth to muffle the sound. Such a shield could only hide so much. Eventually his giggles and sighs rose higher.
Locked away emotions bubbled up inside Vox. The desire to make those giggles fill up that entire room. To see his rival reduced to a fuzzy mass of useless goo. Unable to look him in the eyes because he was too busy hiding in dolls and pillows. Exploiting the demon wasn't even part of these strange desires. What could these feelings even be called? They were too pure for him to apply any label he knew.
Alastor's self teasing came to an end. He stretched out on his bed and sighed deeply. Fully relaxed like a baby in a warm cradle. And for the first time, Vox actually witnessed the overlord sleep. Gripping tightly to his voodoo dolls. Curled up in a fetal position with his head folded back on his body uncomfortably. His eyes stayed wide open, but Vox somehow knew he was sleeping inside that empty head. Creepy. Unsettling. Adorable. Charming.
After witnessing that pure little scene, Vox couldn't bring himself to do any of the things he'd originally planned. Exposing Alastor in this way felt morally wrong, like stealing a baby's candy or kicking an old woman who's already on the ground. At least he forever had the footage to go back and watch again and again. To obsess over.
Except that he forgot to hit the record button.
What a shame.
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