Ava & Leo - First Tickle Challenge

The apartment was dim, lit only by the shifting glow of fairy lights strung above the couch. Rain tapped gently at the windows while soft jazz curled from the speakers. Ava, twenty-five, barefoot in a cropped hoodie and silky shorts, held a single black silk scarf between her fingers like a magician about to reveal a trick.

"One rule," she purred, eyes glittering. "You have to last five minutes without begging."

Leo--twenty-six, shirtless, hair still damp from the shower--walked to her slowly.

He was lean but carved--broad, sculpted shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and the flat, hard planes of a runner's stomach. Sun had bronzed his skin to a warm, even gold, the kind of tan that comes from long days outside with his shirt forgotten in the grass. His chest rose and fell with easy breath, small beads of water still clinging to the faint dusting of hair at his sternum.

His face was boyishly handsome: a straight, slightly playful nose, cheekbones that caught the light, and a jaw just sharp enough to promise mischief. Short, light-brown hair--sun-bleached at the tips--stuck up in soft, messy tufts he never bothered to tame. No trace of stubble shadowed the clean line of his jaw; instead, a perpetual half-smile lingered at the corner of his mouth, the kind that hinted he was always three thoughts ahead and two of them were trouble. When he looked at Ava, that smile deepened, bright and unrepentant, like dawn breaking over water.

His grin was cocky, but the way his stomach muscles flickered betrayed him. "Tickling? That's it? Easy."--he said, laying down on the couch.

"We'll see." Ava knelt, looping the scarf around his wrists and tethering them to the coffee table leg. A second scarf--red this time--became a soft blindfold. Darkness swallowed Leo's sight, amplifying every sound: the rustle of her knees on the rug, the whisper of her hair brushing his chest.

Phase One: Fingertips.

She started slow, barely there. Two fingers traced the curve of his ribs, light as breath. Leo exhaled a laugh, trying to sound bored. She circled again, feather-soft, then paused just long enough for anticipation to pool. When her nails finally sketched down his sides, he jerked, a startled chuckle escaping.

"Two minutes," she murmured.

Phase Two: The Brush.

A soft makeup brush replaced her fingers. Ava painted invisible spirals across his stomach, dipping into every sensitive hollow. Leo's abs clenched; his breath hitched. She followed the brush with her lips, blowing cool air across damp skin. He twisted, cuffs tugging at the table leg.

"Still confident?"

He grunted something that might have been yes.

Phase Three: The Feather.

A single peacock feather appeared. Ava dragged the fronds down the center of his chest, over the twitching plane of his stomach, then lower--skimming the waistband of his shorts. Leo's hips lifted involuntarily; a strangled laugh tore free.

"Three and a half." Her voice was honey. "You're shaking."

Phase Four: The Secret Weapon.

Now the floodgates of laugh were open, she gained more confidence, enjoying every moments of breaking his resistance down. It was the first time they playing this, but his body was nothing new for her--quite the contrary. I was just a matter of time to exploit all the sensitive spots--but time was running out, so Ava had to play it a bit harder.

She straddled his thighs, pinning him gently. Instead of fingers, she used her hair--slow, deliberate sweeps across his ribs and underarms. Each silky strand felt like lightning. Leo's laughter turned ragged; his back arched. Ava leaned close, lips brushing his ear, sending a slight tremble down his spine.

"Beg, and I'll stop."

He shook his head frantically, biting his lip.

Phase Five: Mercy.

Her fingers danced--swift, merciless--into the soft spots under his arms and along his waist. She leaned in, gently biting into the muscles of his abs, all trembling by the laugh he could not contain.

His muscles spasmed, trying to resist the fierce attack. Ava enjoyed every second of his sweet suffering.

"Five minutes is so little." She purred. "I could enjoy this all day long."

Unable to form any words, Leo banged his head into the couch.

Her fingers stopped for a second, then jumped to caress his rock hard nipples. A moment later her wet tongue joined in.

Leo thrashed, cuffs rattling. Laughter cracked into helpless gasps.

"Please--Ava--please--"

The scarf loosened; the blindfold slipped. Candlelight flooded his vision. Ava's face hovered inches above his, flushed, triumphant, tender. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I win," she whispered. "But you sound so pretty when you beg."

Leo, chest heaving, managed a shaky grin. "Rematch tomorrow?"