He's an overworked super-spy... who happens to be extremely ticklish. She's a covert assassin... who happens to harbor a secret desire to tickle her husband senseless. So it's safe to say that when Loid Forger makes the mistake of taking a nap with his bare feet exposed in his wife's vicinity, hilarity is bound to ensue. This secret agent will meet his maker!
This story is dedicated to two talented tickle writers who are good friends of mine, Indigo-Bunny and SergeantD, both of whom have become obsessed with Loid - I researched a number of older stories from both of them to try and replicate their respective writing styles as closely as I could, although I'm not sure how well I succeeded. I guess in the end it'd have been better to stick to my own way of writing, but I couldn't help myself here due to how similar this story's events are to most of the stories I researched, almost like it was cobbled together from various elements taken from them. Hopefully Indigo and Sergeant are okay with this, and I hope they and Araghen enjoy this story as much as I did making it!
11/25/2022 UPDATE: Because I felt something was still missing
from this story at the time of initial publishing, I added a flashback
sequence comparing the last time Loid got involved in this sort of thing
and the current events of this story, and edited some of the text
around it accordingly to graft it in more effectively. If you want to
check out the original version, click or tap the link below!
Originally published version
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Yor Forger's Secret Massage
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“Yor, I’m home…”
“Oh! Back so soon? Is Anya alright?”
“She’s fine. Just… tired, that’s all.”
“Hm? That’s weird, she’s usually a lot more energetic. Especially on a Saturday…”
The blond man stepped through the doorway, having slipped his shoes off on the way in. Setting the size twelves next to the door, he shut it behind him with his free hand, the sleeping pink-haired girl curled up in his left arm. He glanced at his wife, or rather the dark-haired woman whom he had convinced to act as his wife, and wondered what she had been up to all day. Was it just him, or was she cleaning some blood off of her hands in the kitchen sink?
Ordinarily, Loid Forger would be asking a lot of questions within the next few minutes. The best secret agent that Westalis had to offer was in this position for a reason, and being observant without anyone noticing was his forte. But he had to admit that he was not at the top of his game right now, not after having to run after their adopted daughter Anya too many times to count. He would swear that little girl was driving him crazy! It was lucky she was asleep in his arms right now, or else she’d probably run off to turn on the TV and watch Spy Wars once again.
“I’d ask a little more about what you’ve been up to today, but I’m going to have to put Anya to bed first,” Loid replied, his breathing ever so slightly labored. “And honestly, I could use some rest myself.”
Yor Forger turned the sink off and picked up a hand towel to dry herself off, glancing at her supposed husband with a curious expression. “Wait, are you tired, too?”
Loid suppressed a snort with difficulty as he headed towards Anya’s bedroom. Yor was nice, but she could come off as pretty dense at times. “It’s been a long Saturday,” he replied nonchalantly. “Keeping an eye on Anya has been a chore, and running after her before she gets lost or does something that could get her in trouble even more so. My feet are killing me at the moment, and I just want to lie down and give them a break…”
He paused to toe his socks off, letting them sit on the floor for the moment as he headed over to lay Anya down in her bed. Their big white-furred dog, Bond, was already curled up at the foot of the bed, and looked up sleepily to see Loid tucking Anya in. She started snoring a few moments later.
“She’ll be out for a few hours, I think,” Loid muttered as he exited the room, picking his socks up along the way so he could put them in the dirty laundry basket. He trusted Yor to wash them later. “And honestly I think I’ll need a nap as well…”
“Uh…” Yor looked at him in confusion, wondering what sort of crazy escapades he’d gotten up to now. “Aren’t you worried that you may be overworking yourself?”
“Huh? No, I’m fine. Anya is safe and sound, and she should be comfortable now–”
“Yes, yes, but… maybe you need to take a break?”
Loid paused in the act of taking his coat off, looking back at her with his eyes slightly glazed over. “I said, I’m fine–”
“Loid, I can tell you need some rest. Have your clients been proving difficult again?”
Loid swallowed, hoping she wouldn’t notice. As far as Yor was aware, Loid was a psychiatrist, and there was nothing that had ever happened to blow his cover, so no doubt she was assuming he’d had to deal with some very uncooperative patients (as he’d told her he’d done several times before). That said, that assessment was more accurate than she knew – because his mission to investigate the activities of Donovan Desmond, leader of Ostania's far-right National Unity Party, was a long-term one and the reason the charade that he, Yor Forger (née Briar), and Anya had to partake in every day now had been established in the first place, the agency known as WISE had given the master spy, normally known as Twilight, a number of other, shorter missions to finish on the side. There had been an especially high number of such assignments this week, and he would swear that between them and having to keep a wayward Anya from getting into trouble once again (and after that one time where she’d punched Donovan’s son in the face for insulting her, he was taking no further chances), he was running himself thoroughly ragged.
“Well, you can say that,” he mumbled, hanging his coat up on the wall hanger with a haunted look that he hoped Yor wouldn’t catch. In light of the fact that he’d gotten caught and interrogated by an enemy agency the other day and did not want to talk about it, that wasn’t even a lie.
“Gosh, you really have been overexerting yourself,” said Yor, a look of concern on her face. “When I say you need to loosen up and take some time for yourself, I truly mean it. I know Anya can be a handful, but if you want, I can take care of her while you treat yourself to, say, a paid vacation.”
Loid paused in the middle of filling up a glass of water from the tap. “Wait. Are you sure you can handle her?”
She chuckled. “Well, I’ve had to deal with worse for less.”
He took a swig from his glass, turning the suggestion of a vacation over in his head a few times, but found it difficult to think coherently. “I’ll… I’ll consider it. But that thought will have to wait, I’m afraid, because I need a nap, and I needed it yesterday.”
Yor smiled brightly. “Well, go on then! I’ll try and fix something for us tonight and if I can’t, well, we can always go out for dinner.”
Loid couldn’t help but chuckle at this. Yor was great at cleaning, but cooking? Not so much, and that was an understatement. “Eating out definitely sounds safer. I’ll probably need only an hour’s worth of shut eye first, though. That said, waking myself up might be easier said than done, so once you feel we’re ready to head out, please wake me up by any means necessary.”
She blinked. “Any means necessary?”
“I’m not kidding. I’ll need to be attentive in case of another mis–erm, at-home appointment.”
He felt his heart skip a beat and hoped she didn’t catch onto that verbal slip, but mercifully, she was busy wiping the kitchen countertop at the moment. “Am I at least allowed to use that concussive therapy you use at work?” she asked innocently.
Loid, who been taking another drink from the glass, gagged and sprayed the water from his mouth with the grace of a busted fire hydrant. Coughing and sputtering, he whirled to face Yor with a shocked and somewhat offended expression. “W-what?! No! I’m just overworked, that’s all. Just… Whatever method you decide to use, at least keep it to zero broken ribs, alright?”
She nodded in assent, and with a little more haste than normal, he slipped into the couple’s bedroom and out of sight.
Concussive therapy… That excuse he’d made to justify having to knock out some goons in front of his mock-wife all those weeks ago had just kept coming back to haunt him. He could almost imagine opening his eyes just in time to see Yor looming over him with a baseball bat–
He shook his head. She was such a gentle young woman, if a little scatterbrained. Surely, though, she wouldn’t be the kind to do that to anyone. Would she?
Loid sighed and chuckled to himself. “What has my life come to?” he whispered quietly, before collapsing face-down on the bed and blacking out within about a second.
The next hour passed without any noteworthy occurrences, with Yor spending most of her time cleaning the apartment and making sure that Anya and Bond were safe and well-rested. All was quiet for now… but perhaps it was a little too quiet. Yor needed to wake Loid up before dinner, but she wasn’t sure how. He’d said she had to do it without hurting him, but was that even possible when she knew of almost nothing except how to hurt people?!
Then a thought occurred to her. Just yesterday, she had been taking Anya home from Eden Academy when the young girl had suddenly brought up an event that Loid had seemingly told her about. Apparently, he had been caught by some of his patients and subjected to an unusual technique of some kind, presumably to try and get some information out of him. She hadn’t explained more about that, but there was one specific thing that Anya had kept bringing up that intrigued Yor, and that was the fact that he had been stripped of his shirt and shoes during the questioning process, though Anya had not elaborated on the specific reason. Why would some rowdy patients want to do that to him? She couldn’t think of any specific reason for anyone to do such a specific thing, unless—
She blushed hard. Surely he wouldn’t want her to try waking him up that way, right? But he did say she’d have to wake him in any way she could (broken ribs excluded)...
Slipping into the bedroom, Yor only barely took note of the bed that her husband was lying on, with its bright pink blanket and the frilly matching “YES” pillows. Loid had collapsed on top of it without even tucking himself in, head turned to the side as he snored lightly. His arms were spread out a little and his bare feet upturned, the slight rising and falling of his back being the only sign of movement.
Closing the door behind her, Yor moved as silently as she could, as though tailing a potential target on one of her missions as a secret assassin. She knelt down at the foot of the bed, hands raised and fingers wiggling, and got to work without making a sound.
Loid twitched in his sleep, only nominally roused by the sensation of two fingers per hand walking themselves over each of his arches. He remained fast asleep, but that would change soon as in his dream, his task of slipping through an unusually wide air vent to reach some vital imagined intel was being interrupted by a pair of ghostly hands reaching through his shoes…
In the waking world, Yor couldn’t stop herself blushing hard at the sight of her husband’s feet at her utter mercy. She had seen him barefoot regularly around the household, but she hadn’t really checked as to how sensitive he really was. The topic simply hadn’t come up before this point in time. She was definitely not going to pass this opportunity up, though, and so she decided to up the intensity just a little.
In Loid’s dream, the ghostly hands wiggled four fingers each through the soles of his shoes and into his soles of his feet, the very nerves themselves directly stimulated. He gasped, terrified that the inevitable fit of laughter would give him away, and tried to kick his feet to dissuade his unseen tormentor. This translated to his right foot moving ever so slightly, attempting to throw off Yor’s fingers, which didn’t go unnoticed.
Pausing to lull him into a false sense of security, she sat on the edge of the bed, before slipping a hand under his ankles and lifting his feet up a little. Then she put her other hand to his toes and bent them down and forward while gradually lowering his feet, until the pads were gently pressed against the top of the mattress, the still-taut bedsheet held by Loid’s weight which kept it from slipping out under them. This resulted in the high, deep arches of his size twelves being stretched out, exposing more skin to the elements — and Yor’s teasing fingernails.
With this, Yor resumed the tickles once again, her nails scritching and scribbling upon the centers of his arches. She started slowly and lightly at first, glancing back to watch him twitch in place and gauge how awake he was. When a light touch didn’t work, she started ramping up the intensity, scribbling her nails slightly harder and focusing on the especially tender spots where his arches transitioned into his surprisingly smooth, rounded heels.
“Snnkkk… heheheh… plehehehease stohohoahaha…” Loid quivered in place, dreaming of his toes being stuck in place upon the metal floor of the imagined air duct, the ghostly hands having pulled the soles of his loafers and now scribbling upon his soles with greater intensity.
Yor glanced down, making note of how smooth the bottoms of her husband’s feet were. They seemed rather clean as well, with little sweat to speak of, and very well maintained. A thought occurred to her that made her cheeks turn red, and for a brief moment she debated inwardly as to whether or not she should indulge that thought. But after a few moments, she decided to do exactly that, and as she continued tickling his left sole, she leaned down and started sniffing at the heel of his right. The scent of his feet was… pleasantly smoky, actually.
She didn’t stop to think — leaning her head even closer, she started planting several kisses upon the skin of his outer arch.
“YAHAHAHAHAHA H-HEHEHEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Loid snapped his head up and turned it around to give Yor an affronted look, toes still on the mattress and soles still tingling.
His wife stopped dead in her tracks as she too sat bolt upright, her eyes wide and her whole face a brilliant scarlet. For a few awkward moments, the two of them locked eyes in dead silence.
With a yelp of fright, Loid swung his feet up to try and protect himself, grabbing a pillow to hold close to his chest as a further buffer. Yor whipped her head back just in time, shielding her face with her hands, and dared not to look her husband in the face again.
“Keep your hands to yourself, you—!” Loid rolled to the side, prepared to defend himself further, until he remembered who he was with. His eyes widened as a sinking feeling came over him, the realization that he’d nearly kicked his wife upside the head making him suddenly want to curl up in shame.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, I—” Yor stammered, trying to find some sort of excuse.
“Stop it. Just… just stop,” Loid mumbled, his blood still just a little icy. “At least explain to me what in God’s name you were doing, and maybe I’ll forgive you. Maybe.”
Yor looked away. “You did say I should wake you up in a way that didn’t hurt you.”
“Well, yes, I’ll give you that, but… why this way in particular?!”
“I… uh… I-it was some kind of… massage technique.”
Loid looked up with a confused expression. “A message technique? Tickling my feet counts as a message technique? I’m now both intrigued and concerned…”
“No no, I said massage, with an A!” Yor replied as she slid off the bed and curled up in a fetal position, now looking downright flustered. “I-I’ve been practicing that at the advice of some friends at work… I figured it… it’d help keep me relaxed, that’s all.”
“Oh…” Loid tilted his head in curiosity. Come to think of it, Yor had always come home from work looking rather exhausted, and in many cases she seemed a tad high-strung in the bargain (not to mention splattered with various stains he wasn’t sure he should be asking about…). Why wouldn’t she want to find some way to stay calm? Of course, by all counts she should’ve been the recipient of the massage technique and not the masseuse, but it probably didn’t matter by this point.
What did matter was that he’d made her upset, and even the faintest possibility of the two of them breaking off their marriage could jeopardize his mission. If she wanted to subject him to ticklish torment, there really was no choice for him but to suck it up and take it.
“I’m going to regret doing this, but heck with it,” he muttered, rolling back onto his stomach and sticking his feet out. His toes slid against the covers, his arches stretched to their fullest extent once again, and the vulnerability of his position made him hesitate just a little, but he spoke anyway. “Yor, I know you want to tickle me, and saying it’s a massage technique won’t fool me. But you are my wife, I want to make you happy, and I, for one, am not one to disappoint you. So, what say you, my love?”
Yor sprang to her feet, astounded. Was Loid really doing this for her?! She turned to look at him just in time to see him bury his face in the pillow he was holding, hot shame making his cheeks feel like fire. She admittedly felt like she wanted to scoop him up in a hug (hopefully without breaking his ribs), but he was presenting her with an opportunity too good to miss.
“Well, if you want me to, then who am I to hold back?” she asked, blushing herself as she sat next to his feet again. She prodded his right arch with a single index finger, making him flinch, and then raised her hands a bit in gleeful anticipation. He glanced back at the sight of her wiggling fingers and swallowed hard. Whatever was about to happen, he was quite sure he wasn’t prepared for it at all.
Two fingers started dancing upon each of his taut arches, walking up and down the lengths as he twitched and wriggled slightly in his position. A flurry of giggles escaped him as he bit his bottom lip, trying not to crack under the pressure as his instincts took over. He buried his face in the pillow, his heels wiggling and his calves quivering, the feeling of just two manicured nails digging into his skin already driving him crazy (on the inside, at least).
“Pfff… hmmm… P-please be gehehentlehehe…!” Loid squirmed in place, waiting for the metaphorical other shoe to drop as he tried to keep his feet still as much as he could.
“Can’t promise that,” Yor replied cheekily. “This kind of massage does involve some pretty intensive techniques, after all. Though to be fair, you do practice concussive therapy, so I suppose you shouldn’t be one to talk, right~?”
Loid was about to protest when he suddenly felt all ten of her fingers digging into his heels. “NO NONONO WAIIIEEEEEHHEHEHEHEHEHEEE! YOHOHOR! BWAHAHAHAHA I CAHAHAHAHAN’T—! GEHEHEHEHEEEE!” Squealing in a surprisingly undignified pitch, he desperately struggled to keep his feet in place, hugging the pillow tightly as he felt her fingers traveling steadily downward until they were at the tender spots where the heels and arches met. “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! YAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAHHHHHH!”
“Coochie coo, honey~” Yor teased in her sweet, cheerful voice. “You know, I haven’t heard your laugh before, but it really is pretty cute. And I must admit that your feet are, too!”
“HEHEHEYYY! NOT CUTE! NOHOHAHAHAT CUUUUTE!” Loid insisted, but he was quite sure he was just lying to himself. “GAAAAAHAHehehehehAAAAHAHAHahahHAHAH OHHHH GAHAHAHAHAWD, NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHEHEHERE!”
Once Yor had started, she found she couldn’t stop; the feeling of her nails dragging against his skin filled her with an ecstatic feeling that she couldn’t quite compare to anything else. It obviously wouldn’t last forever — her husband would tire soon enough — but she’d enjoy it while it lasted, because for all she knew this was an opportunity she would only get once in her lifetime! And she wasn’t quite done just yet.
Even as he tried to power through the tickles for Yor’s sake, Loid couldn’t stop himself thinking back to that day he’d gotten caught and tickle-interrogated to within an inch of his life. He had gotten just a little bit careless only to be knocked out with chloroform, bound with his arms tied over his head and his shirt and jacket removed, and his legs had been propped forward with his shoes taken off. Before he could get a chance to even get any words out in response to the questioning of his captors, they had descended upon him, fingers wiggling into wherever they could reach! That was one experience he was definitely not keen on repeating.
As the tickly torment Yor was dishing out right now continued, however, he began to notice one critical difference between tonight and that previous time: she seemed to be gentler. More loving, perhaps…
Still he fought against the urge to kick her away, his toes digging into the sheets. Hugging the pillow as tightly as he could, he forced himself to lie there and take it, wishing it would all be over soon.
Finally, mercifully, the tickling stopped. Gasping and panting, Loud buried his face in the pillow again, not daring to move in case Yor had other plans for him. He felt the foot of the bed spring up just slightly as she slid off of it, the woman kneeling down in front of his soles as she prepared for the next step of the “massage”.
The pads of her thumbs pressed into his arches, making him jump a little in place. Then he felt her thumbs beginning to slowly slide along the lengths of the stretched-out tendons, pushing deep enough that the tickling was minimal. His eyes widened as he realized what was happening, his cheeks feeling hot again as he glanced back at his wife with a mix of bemusement and, to his surprise, a little gratitude.
“Your feet were definitely tired from keeping up with Anya all day,” said Yor, kneading along his soles with the expertise of a professional reflexologist. “I know I wanted to tickle you, but I really did think you could use an actual foot rub as well. I’ve tried it on myself before and it really does work wonders.” “Mmmmm… I-I can see that… Ohhh, that really does feel good…” Loid mumbled, feeling the warmth spreading through his legs as the urge to relax his entire body began to build up inside him. “Hm, while you’re at it, think you can check for blisters as well?”
“I don’t think I see any. You chose your shoes well, by the looks of it. Though… hm.” She moved her thumb pads upward to squeeze against those tender spots between his arches and heels. “Maybe a closer look can’t hurt, can it?”
Before he could respond, she’d leaned in and started blowing puffs of air against his arches. He yelped and squirmed a bit, trying not to lose his composure as he began putting two and two together. The last time he’d felt that sensation was during that gang-tickling interrogation, right before—
The feeling of Yor’s tongue against his left arch made him scream once again, whipping his foot upward and nearly braining his wife a second time. He curled up in a ball again, cringing and giggling as he tried to wipe the saliva from his left foot with the top of his right.
“YOR!” he yelled, glaring at his wife again. Then he saw her alarmed expression and looked away shamefully.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry!” Yor cried in horror. “I-I didn’t know what came over me… Was I… was I not supposed to do that?!”
“I… I…” Loid felt torn at that moment. He hadn’t wanted to be reminded of that ignominious defeat, but at the same time… he’d actually quite liked the treatment Yor had given him, even the tickles she’d administered at the start. She at least cared about his well-being, unlike his prior tormentors, and she was doing this out of love and care more than anything else.
“I’ll probably make dinner,” Yor stammered, standing up and preparing to make for the door. Loid’s next words stopped her in her tracks.
“Whatever you were doing, p-please continue. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have overreacted…”
She turned, blushing again. “R-Really?”
He sighed. “Well… The last time something like this happened to me, it was with a few, erm, less cooperative patients. They captured me and decided to pay me back for hitting them so much. They were so obsessed with tickling me that they didn’t give me a moment’s rest… You’re different, though. You’ve given me time to relax, and you’ve treated me better than they ever could—”
“You didn’t ask to be tickled awake, though. I’m sorry…”
“Perhaps, but I did ask for you to wake me up, right?”
She blinked, having forgotten about the reminder. Then she covered her face in her hands, looking flustered. “So, do you still want me to leave, or—?”
“No no, it’s alright. I do believe you would probably feel better after tickling me again, though not before continuing the massage first. I think it’d help me relax and ease into it rather than starting the tickles straight away.” It wasn’t even a lie. Like before, he’d felt uncomfortable when she’d started tickling him outright, but at least with a foot rub beforehand he’d be more receptive.
“Really?”
“Well, I know I’ve said it before, but I wouldn’t want to make you unhappy, now, right?” He rolled onto his back, straightening his legs so his feet were presented to her in full. “Whatever you feel like doing, it’s not like I have the right to stop you.”
“Oh… Th-thank you! But first off, let me get something…”
She slipped out of the room, leaving him to wait. He wiggled and scrunched his toes, relieving the tension from his arches, while wondering what she was up to.
When Yor returned, using a foot to nudge the door closed behind her again, it was with a pair of metal forks in one hand and a bottle of chocolate syrup and a paper towel in the other. Setting those next to his feet, she pulled up a chair in front of the foot of the bed and gave him an expectant look.
His eyes widened, and he felt one of his eyelids twitch. “Seriously?!”
“What? You did say I could, so I might as well go all out for the next part of the massage…”
There it was, playing the massage card again. While she had rubbed his feet earlier, and he did like that a lot, using that as an excuse to tickle him was somewhat sketchier. Still, who was he to deny her what she really wanted as long as he got a chance to unwind out of the bargain?
She looked at him again, her expression clearly conflicted, and he nodded, before rolling over and turning his soles skyward once more. Next moment, she’d sat in the chair and slid the paper towel under his feet. Then she got to work, starting by pushing her knuckles into the balls of his feet, before sliding them up towards his heels. There it was again, the warmth that spread through Loid’s entire body, as he couldn’t stop himself relaxing and letting the tension from his limbs.
“Mmmmm, that’s… that’s amazing… W-where did you learn how to do this? You s-seem to be reaching all the best spots f-for maximum relaxation…”
“Uh… I-I took a reflexology class once, when I was at school,” Yor lied, not wanting to give away the fact that she was relying on her knowledge of pressure points from a far more lethal career path. “I figured, you know, it would be good if I ended up somehow taking up a career in massage therapy…” She pressed her fists down on his heels and pulled backwards, rubbing towards the balls of his feet now.
“You should keep practicing. Who knows, perhaps you could try a side-job or maybe even a job change if your government work proves too much of a chore…”
She laughed at this. “I’m fine with my current job, thanks. But I’ll definitely consider it in the future! On one condition, of course — if you’ll agree to let me try any new techniques I can think of with you as the test subject~”
Loid groaned in a mix of amusement and consternation. “Guess it’s too late for me to back out now, so whatever you suggest, I’ll follow.” Then he heard the pop of the bottle being opened, and his blood went cold again. “Wait, what was the syrup for again?”
“Huh? I thought you’d have guessed. One of the new techniques I mentioned is pouring it onto your feet before I lick it off…”
For one brief second, Loid immediately regretted having agreed to what his wife was doing. That being said, the feeling of syrup being drizzled onto his bare soles was new, but surprisingly not unwelcome.
Upon closing the bottle and setting it aside again, Yor stopped to admire the pattern of syrup she’d poured onto his feet, stopping short of his cute bubble-like toes and making sure not to spill a drop of the chocolate onto the sheets, even with the underlying napkin as protection.
“And now for the next part of the massage, the tongue-bath. Oh, and if you feel uncomfortable, just say uncle…” Yor announced with all the air of a professional masseuse. The comforting tone didn’t help Loid’s apprehension, and as she leaned her head in, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited.
“AHHHHH!” he yelped, feeling her tongue sliding along the length of his right arch. He resisted the urge to kick at her again, but luckily she was prepared this time, grabbing hold of his toes and pulling them downward so that he couldn’t move his foot. Squirming and squealing, he tried not to move his legs at all even as the feeling of her tastebuds sliding along his sole skin made him all but lose his mind.
Yor continued licking up and down around his right foot, making sure to get all the chocolate sauce off while replacing it with her saliva. It didn’t take long for her to finish, but once she was done, she released her hold on his toes, moved her head downward a little further, and started sucking on his three innermost ones, making him let out a very undignified sound he’d surely be embarrassed to recall later on.
“Kyahahahahaha! Kehekkhehehe, stohohohoahahap…!”
“Aww, but I haven’t gotten the other foot yet!” she replied, before starting to lick and suck upon his toes again, her tongue flicking in and out of the spaces between which tickled especially badly.
“GAHAHAHAH! Ahahahat least m-make it quihihihick!”
To her credit, she did do just that. Her tongue was faster and more methodical with his other foot, wiping away the chocolate with impressive speed and precision. Every single stroke of it drove poor Loid mad, and he pounded the bed with his fists, shrieking and guffawing at the maddening sensation.
Once all the chocolate was gone, slick spittle lubricating his soles in its place, Yor proceeded to suckle on each and every toe on his left foot in turn, not forgetting to flick her tongue into the spaces between. Poor Loid hugged his pillow tight and screamed into it, barely able to handle it. The tickles were so bad that he was feeling light-headed, bit at least this wasn’t as bad as the earlier tickling upon his lower arches… not that this was saying much.
“There, all done,” Yor said cheerfully once she was finished, taking the towel out from under his feet to pat them dry. “There’s just one more technique I want to try, though, and for that you’ll have to pull your toes back again.”
He glanced around to get a look at her as best he could, and was about to ask what she meant by that when he saw the forks she was now holding up. A chill went down his spine at that point, and his legs and toes curled on instinct.
“You wouldn’t,” he mumbled as he realized what was about to happen.
“I would,” she replied coolly. “Well? Unless you can power through this, I don’t think we’ll be heading out for dinner tonight. Who knows, perhaps I could cook instead~”
His eyes widened. “Oh, that was below the belt and you know it.”
“What can I say? I wasn’t going to pass this up from the start, was I?”
Loid sighed in defeat, and slid his feet back towards her with his toes pointing forward. “Just get it over with,” he muttered, before realizing how vulnerable his arches were once again and gulping audibly.
A few moments later, he felt the metal tines of the forks lightly scraping against the joining of his arches and heels, and his eyes widened to their absolute limit before he screamed at the top of his lungs. “YYYYAAAAAAHHHHHHH! WAHAHAHAHAHHHH AHHHAHAHHAHAHAHAH NOOOOOOHOHOHOHO! GEHEHEHE IT TICKLES! IT TICKLES IT TICKLES IT TIHIHIHICKLEHEHES! MMMMMFFMFMFMMFFF!” He pressed his face into the pillow and started screeching into it once again as he started kicking his legs impotently, trying to dissuade the forks from their merciless assault. For a few moments, she matched his every movement, making sure to keep the cutlery in contact with his weak points at all times.
A brief pause left him giggling and gasping, feet still tingling, and he looked up from the pillow to see what she was up to. Was it finally over?
Then he felt the weight on the foot of the bed, followed by Yor straddling his lower legs so that his feet were pinned, before sweeping his toes under his feet so the pads were planted on the mattress. And that was when he realized exactly how screwed he was.
The metal tines started scratching along his arches once more. The heels and balls of his feet were the first to be ever so lightly clawed at, Yor’s verbal teasing almost making them even more sensitive (not helped by her saliva bath from earlier). All he could do was scream and laugh his head off, secretly hoping the noise wouldn’t wake their daughter or give Bond an earache. Mercifully, he didn’t have to worry for much longer, for when Yor began to scratch the forks against his most ticklish spots with increasing speed, almost like she was scrubbing them with a pair of toothbrushes, his laughter went dead-silent as though it was now too high-pitched for the human ear to register.
This continued for several minutes, but to him it seemed like forever. Scritchy scratchy. Scrub-a-dub-dub. Rinse and repeat. She even switched tickling techniques every so often, setting one fork aside to use her fingers on one sole while continuing with the fork for the other, before switching places or going back to both forks at once.
Finally, as Yor’s forks tormented his arch-meet-heel spots once too often, he couldn’t take it anymore. With a surprising burst of strength, he jerked his legs under her with such force that she was unbalanced, forcing her to toss the forks aside and roll sideways and onto the floor to avoid being thrown clear across the room. He curled up in place, gasping and giggling, before whimpering, “U-uncle…” in an unusually high-pitched tone.
Yor got back up, having made a three-point landing on the floor just in time. She glanced at the sorry state of her sweat-drenched husband and blushed hard, covering her face with both hands once again.
“Oh, Loid… Did I take it too far? I’m sorry, again…”
“Ahhahhahahhah… heheheh… y-you… actually… You did a damn good job…” he muttered, giving her a half-affronted, half-grateful look. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I actually enjoyed that more than I feared I would.”
She stared at him in shock. “You did?!”
He sat up, rubbing his feet against each other, and smiled warmly at her. “You did make sure to start gentle. That was the key thing that led me to tolerate it. So I suppose that puts you a league above those patients from earlier this week.”
“Um, thank you?” Yor smiled awkwardly, still blushing. “So, does that mean you’ll let me do it again?”
He rubbed the back of his head with a bashful chuckle. “I’ll think about it. At the very least, you can certainly use your new massage technique to wake me up in the morning if you like, going forward. At least it’d be a surefire way to wake me up when simply shaking me awake won’t cut it.”
She laughed, before sitting down next to him and planting a kiss on his cheek. “That’s for sure, Loid. So, are we still going out for dinner?”
“Well, the restaurants I had in mind don’t close until much later, so my guess is we still have a half-hour to get dressed.” He stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his back, before rolling back around in bed to lie down on his stomach. “Though since I can be ready pretty quickly, I suppose I can take another five-minute nap just to make sure I’m rested enough.”
Yor would only later notice the way he’d held his arms in front of his head, seemingly to hold onto the pillow again, was almost purposely done to make his shirt ride up and expose his sides just slightly. For now, though, she smiled impishly and wiggled her fingers again.
“Oh, no you don’t! What did you say about needing the time to prepare?” Next thing he knew, she’d straddled his waist and pulled up his shirt. “I can get dressed quickly too, just so you know, so I suppose we can pass the time with me waking you up in advance!”
Loid was already giggling even before she’d actually started. “NOOOOOHOHOHO!!! NO NO NONONOOOOOOOOHOHOHAHAHAHAHA!” As his wife’s fingers dove into his shirt and skittered along his ribs, he started squealing and thrashing about again, pinned under her weight.
“Awwww, isn’t my husband the most ticklish young man of all?” Yor teased in that sultry, gentle tone she usually got when she was feeling cuddly. “Seems like your ribs are just as bad as your heels, maybe even more so. We should try this more often, don’t you think?”
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOOOOO!” Loid shrieked, wriggling around in a vain bid to escape. “HEHEHEH YOHOHORRRR! EHEHEHE CUT IT OHOHOHOHOUT!! MAYDAY! MAYDAY! HEEEEHEHEHEHEEEEELLLLLP MEEEEHEHEHEHEEEEEE!!”
“Oh, hush, you really do need to loosen up,” Yor replied with a chuckle, scritching and scribbling along the tender flesh all the way from his underarms to his hips. “Gitchy gitchy, sweetie! Go on, let it all out!”
All Loid could do was lie there and take it, though he had to admit, he was actually enjoying this a little more than he’d suspected even as he continued to struggle and beg for mercy.
Perhaps enjoying a good laugh was needed after all, at least the kind brought about out of tender loving care. Granted, Loid was quite sure that tickle-interrogation from earlier wouldn’t be the last time he’d be subjected to such a treatment, but whatever Yor could dish out was a marked improvement. Regardless, there was no doubt in his mind that he was going to utter a lot of helpless laughter in the days to come, courtesy of Yor especially.
As laughter continued emanating from Loid’s bedroom, neither of the faux-couple would notice a certain pink-haired girl in the next room, her back and ear to the wall. She’d gotten up to get a glass of water, but as soon as she’d heard the commotion she went over to check on her adopted parents only to hear their respective thoughts, and decided to eavesdrop on the whole thing without anyone else noticing.
To think that it had started with a single discovery on her part, noting how Loid had flinched with an undignified squeak when she’d accidentally brushed her hand against his side the previous day as he took her home from school. Upon hearing of this, Yor had wondered whether she could get a similar response out of him. Having overheard what she actually wanted to do, Anya had, with the air of pitch-perfect childhood innocence, suggested that perhaps Yor could try to find an answer to her own question the next time she was asked to wake him up. Then, come the next day, Anya had proceeded to drag Loid along for an entire Saturday of leisure activities until he was almost as tired as her. Then once all was said and done, she would let nature take its course.
A smug smirk crossed Anya’s face, the girl fully aware of the ticklish fate in store for her adopted father. This had been, by far, the most successful gambit that Anya could’ve pulled off, and in doing so she’d opened a gateway for countless future tickle sessions between her foster parents. And as with just about everything else before, they’d never suspect that she’d had something to do with that, in her own small way.
All in all, it was just another unusual evening in the life of the most unusual family in all of Ostania. Then again, of course, they couldn’t have hoped for anything less.
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