Chapter Text
Oliver watched with a lazy smile on his face as Sami and Annella sped off down the rocky driveway, a cloud of dust glowing behind them in the evening sun. It really was gorgeous here. Prettier than anywhere he'd ever been, with the trees, the skies, the smells, the ambient chirping of cicadas. Innumerable factors melted together to make the riviera an almost utopian paradise. And then there was Elio. Elioelioelioelioelio. The name swam about in his mind like a playful sprite, breaking into his thoughts unbidden. Oliver was finding it difficult to think of anyone else who had felt so good to hold as Elio Perlman, his gentle warmth, his smooth skin, his bottomless eyes. He was intoxicating, like freshly baked bread, like petrichor, petroleum, pipe tabacco. Oliver needed him like a plant needs sunlight.
And now he had to find him.
Revenge was calling his name.
-
The man found him in his bathroom, staring out the window at the sunset through the trees.
His dark hair twitched as he heard the man approach, but he didn't turn around.
Oliver placed his big hands on the young man's shoulders and felt them tense, then relax as Elio sighed into his grip. "Good evening." The younger man whispered.
Oliver slid his hands down the shirt until they were resting on Elio's hips. Then he brought his pelvis to Elio's through their jeans and whispered into his ear. "You know, I really think it will be." Elio pressed back into his embrace, the arousal radiating off him. Goosebumps rose on his pale skin as the dominant man said four little words. "Take off your shirt." Elio obliged, peeling off his striped polo with baited breath and turned around to stare up Oliver, the man's hands still loosely resting on his hips.
"Now what?" Elio smirked, staring with a shimmer in his eye.
"I'll show you." Oliver led Elio by the hand into his bedroom and pushed him gently onto the bed. He clambered on top of the shirtless boy, gripping his arms out to the side and sucking on his neck. Elio practically melted at the sensual treatment, a low groan humming in his throat, jean-clad legs slowly fidgeting underneath Oliver's mass, unsure of what to do or where to go.
"Your parents are gone. D'you know what that means?" Oliver whispered into Elio's neck. The black haired boy smiled widely.
"I think so..."
Oliver lifted his head and stared his lover in the eyes, a grin on his face. "What's 'cruel' in Italian?"
"What?" Elio's smile faltered slightly as he realised that the night might not have been going the direction he was expecting.
"You heard me. What is it?"
"C-crudele." Elio mumbled, a worried look on his face. "Can you let me up now?"
Oliver ignored him, still smiling. "Crudele. Wow. What a beautiful word. Well, Elio." He leant down and whispered into his ear. "Ora che la tua famiglia se n'è andata, è tempo che io sia crudele."
Now that your family has gone, it's time for me to be cruel.
Elio's face dropped as his suspicions were confirmed, and he started squirming under the man's weight but Oliver's fingers were already prodding up and down his ribs. "Oliver...please, you don't have to do this."
"Oh, but I do. You tickled me, Elio. Nobody tickles me and gets away with it." He began pinching the flesh up and down the pale flanks as Elio's reactions became more desperate.
"Ohohoholiveheheherrrpleahahhahhse!" His panicked grin only made the older man more determined. This was going to be fun.
"Before you were practically begging me to show you my cruel side, and now you're complaining? What changed in a week?" Oliver's fingers reached Elio's sides and the black haired boy jolted like he'd been struck by lightning.
"Ahahahahahaha! Stopstopstopahahahahaha!" The pasty lad groped at Oliver's hands but they were as strong as iron, immovable tools of torture. This was already worse than before. Last time Oliver had been playing around; now Elio knew he meant it. His hands worked with torturous fury and precision, as if he had a map of every spot that would make Elio laugh like a hyena. His legs were kicking and his arms were flailing desperately, but there was something...dare he say exhilarating about the assault. The desperation he was pushed to so rapidly was almost impressive, and the fact that Oliver was the one punishing him so...it almost made it bearable. Arousing.
Still. He had to play the part of tormented victim.
Using a slight lapse in Oliver's grip as a chance to escape Elio leapt sideways, scrambling to get off the bed. Surprisingly he felt Oliver's weight shift slightly, making escape even more possible. He was halfway off the bed, arms scrambling for the door, the taste of freedom on his tongue, when a hand gripped his socked ankle and his hopes were bulldozed ruthlessly. Elio's eyes widened in fear. Oliver was holding him back as he still tried to crawl for the door in vain. The American tutted. "No socks, Elio. Bare feet only. Every inch of your skin is mine." And with his other hand he clawed the cotton sock off Elio's foot, baring his bounty as the toes wriggled in panic. He smirked at the pale foot in front of him, smooth and enchantingly vulnerable. And, Oliver knew, intensely ticklish. He dragged two nails slowly down the sole and Elio's whole body shuddered. "Gah!" He hissed at the sensation that shot up his leg.
When he'd reached the toes at the bottom Oliver started again from the top, ever so slowly dragging two nails down the sheet of nerves, Elio gasping and spluttering at each second his sole was tormented. The dark haired lad was still struggling to reach the door, but he was getting weaker by the second: he couldn't keep his arms in push-up position forever.
"Where do you think you're going?" Oliver scorned, tutting. He grabbed Elio's other flailing ankled and similarly stripped it of protection. "Do you know what happens to naughty boys who try to escape their punishment?"
"Oliver, please, not barefoot, I didn't mean to I-" His breath was snatched from his throat as five blunt nails were brutally ripped down his tender soles, forming the tickle equivalent of a sucker-punch. "Fuhuhuhuck! Shihihihit! Gzzzzaha!" Elio's torso collapsed to the cool floor in defeat as the tickling drained his muscles of strength and his mind of rebellion, his long legs still sprawled on the bed, his doomed escape attempt as pathetic as it was endearing.
"Bad boys get feet tickles until they apologise." Oliver brought both of the pale beauties together in a ticklish pair, locking them together with his arm, two soft sheets of nerves ready for the ravaging. Using his large hand his raked multiple fingers down each sole to devastating effect, again and again and again relentlessly.
"Ohahahahahahahahaha! I'm sohohohohohohorry! I'm sohohohohohohorry, pleahahahahahahahase!"
Oliver almost felt bad as Elio shrieked and writhed I'm the floor, eyes screwed shut in ticklish agony. Almost. "What's that? I can't hear you."
"Soohohohorry!" Elio cried, tears of mirth starting to form in his eyes as he laughed hysterically at the ruthless sensations on his bare feet.
"What?"
"I'm SOHOHOHOHOHORRY! PLEAHAHAHSE!"
Oliver had mercy and stopped his scrawling. Elio flopped against the floor, panting like a dog, infinitely thankful for the cool embrace of the tiled floor against his burning skin.
A few minutes later and Elio had finally caught his breath, so Oliver hauled him back onto the bed and pulled the floppy limbed youth on top of him so that they were both staring at the ceiling. "That really was cruel." Elio mumbled.
"No. Cruel would be continuing to tickle you even after I'd just destroyed your feet."
"Hmmph." Elio sighed, then his eyes widened in realisation. Before he could react Oliver had plunged both of his hands into Elio's exposed armpits and was digging at the soft flesh. The teen was almost too tired to react but the sensation was too much to ignore. "HahahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" He cackled as the tickles grew more intense the longer they carried on. His back arched against his torturer and his arms clamped to his side, but nothing would abate the wiggling fingers destroying his smooth hollows without remorse.
Minutes passed full of ticklish abuse, with Elio too exhausted to beg or whine or plead. He could only laugh and laugh and laugh as Oliver drove him to the edge of sanity. Just before he got there, however, his inamorato ceased his bloodthirsty hostilities and let Elio flop onto the bed next to him. The teen gasped for breath, drenched in sweat and red in the face, a tired frown on his face.
"That better be the end. Please." Elio grumbled, still fighting to catch his breath.
"That's it. I promise. I'm sorry I had to do that, but you started it."
"And you sure as hell finished it." Elio glared, but his gaze softened at Oliver's truly apologetic look. God, when had this man started controlling him like a marionette? "That wasn't just cruel, that was evil."
Oliver laid a hand on Elio's abdomen, comfortingly this time, no threat of tickling. "I'm sorry, Elio." He whispered into the neck as he nuzzled it like a scorned puppy come crawling back for forgiveness. "But that wasn't evil. You don't wanna see evil. Evil is no mercy, no clothe-"
Elio burst in. "You're right. I don't wanna see evil. Never ever do I want that."
Oliver laughed at the frantic glint in his beau's eyes, the fear that was still bubbling under the surface that Oliver would continue his assault, would show him the real meaning of tickling, would make him regret even thinking about tickling the older man. But he'd had his fun, and a truly exhausted Elio wouldn't have the energy for his next trick. He kissed along Elio's steadily panting chest, taking his nipple into his mouth and rolling his tongue around it. He popped the button on Elio's jeans and slipped his hand gently into the underwear, the semi-hard inhabitant twitching to life at his soft touch.
Then Oliver spoke, voice softer than a whisper, more intense than a shout, sending goosebumps rippling across Elio's skin once more.
"Let me make it up to you."
Elio smiled.
