Work Text:
Ilya didn’t enjoy being tickled.
The lack of control was part of it. Having grown up in a household where any emotion other than anger was seen as a weakness, he had slowly armored himself in a way to ensure he was nothing but ego and pride to the outside eye. Being tickled just didn’t mesh with that image, and would certainly not bode well if the wrong person caught sight of it. And being out of control like that was dangerous for someone like him. The world wasn’t safe enough for that.
The sensation was another part. Though he wasn’t overly sensitive, he simply didn’t enjoy the feeling of light unwanted touch or, as was usually the case, hard pokes and kneading hands intruding on his person. His body didn’t know what to do with it, and so he ventured into the lack of control territory once more. Pulling knees out of squeezes. Slapping away insisting fingertips. Gritting his teeth all the while.
The fact that the only person who ever tickled him in a way that made him feel safe was his mother - his dead, long gone, wonderful mother - was probably the biggest part of it, though he buried it deep down. It was easier to blame everything else. Easier to pretend it couldn’t be fun in the right circumstances.
Shane never tickled him. Not on purpose, anyway. Ilya had discovered his sensitivity early on, tucked between roaming hands and moans laced with a laugh which could mean anything, really, had Ilya not slowly gotten to know every inch of that body. He knew to steer clear of Shane’s feet, to use more pressure on his inner thighs, to not nuzzle into his neck for too long. He wondered if he showed him the same consideration, or if Ilya had just gotten so good at reigning in his reactions that he had no idea.
He had been tickled by him though, accidentally, when he grabbed his knees to adjust himself, or dug his fingers into Ilya’s sides when something felt good. Innocent actions. Certainly not ticklish enough for Ilya to laugh, though he did remember himself twitching in surprise. If Shane had noticed, he never brought it up. Most importantly he never used it against him.
Ilya tried not to use it against him either, only it became harder once they got closer, once they were boyfriends, and their life was littered with playfulness and domesticity and not just sex. Wrestling Shane to the bed with a deeply ingrained instinct to jam his fingers into his ribs. He was already laughing. Already relaxed and happy and trusting him fully. And the trust was the reason he didn’t. Was the reason he simply pinned his arms to the side and leaned down to kiss him. Mornings of wrapping his arms around his waist in the kitchen, with the sudden urge to curl his fingers over his belly just to make him giggle and squirm into him. A moment of safety, which Ilya could ruin in the disguise of play.
That morning was different. Shane was sprawled out on the bed, sleepy after Ilya had gone down on him twice, and each time he made a sudden movement Shane would twitch and laugh, untouched and yet.
“What is it?” Ilya finally asked, relishing in that smile. All giddiness. All because of him.
Shane pushed his hand away, even though he still hadn’t touched him. “Tickles.”
“What?”
A blush was coloring his cheeks, but Shane wasn’t clinging onto denial or pretence. “I feel really ticklish right now, so I keep thinking you’ll tickle me.”
“I have never tickled you.” Ilya crossed his arms to show he was keeping them to himself. “Wait, how do you feel ticklish?”
Shane shrugged. “Extra sensitive. Giggly. Tired. Safe. I don’t know.”
“Safe?”
He averted his gaze. “I mean, yeah.”
“But you keep thinking I will tickle you?”
He shrugged again.
“So in that case you don’t feel safe.”
“But I do.”
Ilya wet his lips. “Explain.”
“I mean, it’s fun, right? And I trust you would stop when I needed you to.” He was bright red now, but he spoke in earnest.
Ilya hummed.
Another part of why he didn’t like being tickled: it was almost always done without his consent. Ilya didn’t like not giving his consent. Didn’t like that people thought they could just take and take in the guise of fun.
He tilted his head at Shane. Maybe not everyone thought the same way as him. “Do you want me to tickle you?”
Shane let out a strangled laugh. “That sounds stupid when you put it like that.”
“I won’t do it unless you want me to.” Ilya didn’t mean to tease, but he did enjoy the way Shane’s embarrassment shifted form and turned into something sweet. Something shy.
He reached out slowly and allowed himself to touch now, cradling Shane’s cheek in the palm of his hand. He leaned into the touch and said, “We’ve never had any tickle fights.”
Ilya shifted. “We haven’t.”
“Why is that?”
He didn’t have to explain to him that much of their relationship had been a constant tiptoeing of lines they were afraid to cross, and once they did, a quick retreat. For much too long it had been that, until suddenly it wasn’t. It was true that most people would be eager to explore the other side, and it wasn’t that they were afraid, not more than they had to be.
But Ilya didn’t know how to approach this. How something this silly could be so serious to him. “I didn’t know you were ticklish.”
“You could’ve found out.”
“Would you have wanted me to? On my own, I mean?”
“It’s weird to have to tell you about it.”
“Hmm, I lied, actually. I knew about it.”
Shane’s head snapped to the side. “Wait, you did?”
“Yes. For a long time.” He grinned at Shane’s look. “What can I say? I am a gentleman.”
“Ilya,” he whined, giving his chest a light slap. “Why would you not have taken advantage of that?”
Ilya laughed. “It really sounds like you want me to tickle you, Hollander.”
“Don’t Hollander me, Rozanov.”
“You think you can provoke it out of me, huh?”
“That’s usually how it works.”
“I need you to ask for it.” He moved his hand from his cheek to his jaw. “I need you to tell me you will enjoy it, or at the least not mind me doing it.”
Shane’s breath caught. “Why?”
“Because-” He stroked his chin with his thumb. “-I do not want to do something to you that you don’t want me to do.”
“Oh my god, you’re serious.”
“Of course.”
“Most people don’t want to be tickled.”
“Are you most people?”
He exhaled slowly. “Some people think it’s fun.”
“And are you some people?” He smiled at him, attempting to keep it light, but Shane looked away anyway. It was cute. It was so cute Ilya nearly crossed his own boundary then and there.
“I don’t know,” he finally mumbled. “It’s been years, and it’s never been like this.”
“Like how?”
“With someone I love. Like this.”
Ilya’s heart was about to burst out of his chest.
He leaned in to press his lips to Shane’s temple. “I love you too much to do something you don’t want me to do. I am not trying to be difficult.”
Shane’s gaze softened. “I know you’re not.”
“And I don’t mean to embarrass you when I tell you I need you to ask for it.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Though I do enjoy your blush.”
“Ilya.”
Ilya hummed as he stroked Shane’s cheek with his knuckles. “Tell me.”
“I’m- not sure I would like it, but- I mean, I would like us to be like that, you know?”
“I know.”
“So.” He seemed to brace himself. Ilya found it unbearably adorable. “Could you tickle me? Please?”
Ilya grabbed his wrist. “Say it again.”
“Ilya-”
“Okay, okay.” He laughed at his impatience. “I need you to tell me when to stop, okay?”
“Jesus Christ-”
“Say ‘hockey’, okay?”
“Yes, yes, fine, hockey it is. Now can you get on with it? I hate the anticipation.”
Ilya grinned. “You love the anticipation,” and he pounced, before Shane had time to protest. Neither of them really expected it, that Ilya would straddle him, that he would take his task so seriously. He wasn’t being merciless about it, though. He didn’t pin Shane’s hands, or dig his fingers into spots that would make him twitch with laughter, twitch and jerk and lose control of his limbs. He kept it light, which, when he thought about it, which he would, many times, probably drove Shane all the more crazy.
“Wahahait,” was all he managed to say at first, a constant begging for Ilya to cut it out, to leave him alone, to stop taking advantage of his sensitivity like this. Only Ilya knew his protests didn’t mean anything, at the very least weren’t a proper call for this to end. He cradled the consent in his bare hands, holding it close as he listened to Shane’s begging, listened to him slowly falling apart without feeling like a monster for it.
“You’re so-” He wasn’t even sure what he meant to say, only knew that Shane’s laughter, which was filling the room almost entirely now, made him feel both excited and strangely powerful for being allowed this. “-fucking cute.”
“Shut up!” Shane spat back, but he had his head thrown back, his hands constantly chasing Ilya’s which skirted over his torso, side, rib, armpit, neck, and back. A chase which could drive anyone mad, but was still simply- fun. For them both.
“I didn’t know you would be so easy to break,” he said, treading somewhat unknown water. But he liked riling Shane up, and Shane and his biting mouth always enjoyed the challenge of having to deal with him.
He all but growled now, all giggly giddiness from before enveloped in something else, something determined. He dug his feet into the mattress and Ilya realized belatedly that he was trying to buck him off, that he was probably aiming to turn the tables, and while that didn’t mean he wanted this to stop, because the safe word was still nowhere near his tongue, it did mean Shane enjoyed the idea of this being mutual. Of this being bodily and competitive, and Ilya wasn’t certain if he wanted that. Ilya was about to ruin a perfectly good consensual thing because he hadn’t thought to bring himself into the equation.
Only when he found himself hesitating and Shane had the perfect opportunity to turn this around, he still remained glued to his back, knees which he had pulled up to Ilya’s sides relaxing, visibly forcing himself to take this with nothing but his shielding hands. Ilya realized it then. That Shane would never do something to him which he hadn’t consented to. That this meant as much to Shane as it did to him.
God knew how Ilya didn’t cry right there and then.
He leaned down and wrapped his arms around him, taking in his surprised exhale and relishing in how he started squirming the minute he realized that Ilya was still tickling him even now. Fingers curling over his upper ribs, with Shane trapped between him and the bed and giggling into his neck, which tickled him a bit and he found that he didn’t care. He was safe here.
“You’re so ticklish,” he mumbled into Shane’s hair, which had Shane slapping his back and laughingly telling him to shut up. “What? Is true. You cannot deny it.”
“You don’t have to be so mean about it,” he said, whining when Ilya hit a particularly bad spot. “Fuck, this tickles so much, Ilya, get off.”
“Hmm, do you really want me to?”
“I- ah! I need you to allow me to squirm.”
Ilya sat up reluctantly. “Fine. Thank you for telling me. I can continue, yes?”
Shane covered his face with his hands. “Yes, god, please continue.”
“Can I tickle your knees?”
“This is gonna be the death of me- yes, you can tickle my knees.”
“Good. I think they will be very bad.”
“I will kick you.”
“Ah, maybe, but as long as you don’t say hockey I will continue.” He poked his belly. “Until we are both satisfied.”
“Domestic life is so weird,” Shane said, very obviously trying to redirect his embarrassment.
Ilya decided to bite. “This can’t be normal domestic life, though, can it?”
“Maybe not.”
“We’re so much less boring. Even you.”
“Oh, ha ha, please tickle me so I will laugh.”
“Oh, I will.” Ilya beamed at him. “Until you ask me to stop.”