A Ticklish Thriller (Revised) - 2. Mikey Finds A Body

T.L.

It was getting colder the later it got. The frosty exhaled breath was the only proof of the man's existence as T.L. stood flush against the building's edge, dressed in all black, concealed by the darkness. The darkened figure kept his eyes on the tan KIA Sportage his target drove. It was a good thing he was a patient man because what the hooded man did wasn't an easy or quick process. Sometimes it took T.L. weeks, even months observing his intended victims. He'd watch them as they went about their daily activities. The ones with an established routine were more accessible. Individuals, who varied their activities and routes, took the longest.

It all started innocently enough. Whatever town T.L. was in, he would browse the local area craigslist, as well as bondage/tickling sites. The locals posted ads and asked for messages from people who wanted to hunt, trap, kidnap, bind, and tickle them. Some wanted a give-and-take scenario. T.L. acquired a sizable collection of costumes because some of the fantasies called for various characters.

The men from the ads were friendly and enjoyable to be around. T.L. discovered similarities between himself and the other guys besides their love for fetish play. Over time, the dark-haired man got less enjoyment from the hookups. A desire for something more realistic and thrilling grew inside of him. The scenarios were fun to act out. What eluded T.L. was the true feeling of fearing the unknown with hookups everything, got discussed, no room for any surprises. Despite his playmate's best attempts, their reactions always fell flat and felt forced. One day a brilliant idea came to him. When he drifted into the next town, he'd troll the sites as usual, but instead of adhering to the plan, T.L. would throw in a little spice and do things on his timetable.

A door slammed and made the shadow-cloaked man close his eyes and get his mind back on the task at hand. The hooded man got inside his car and waited. He licked his thin lips as he watched the man he was after getting into his car. Once the target's Sportage came to life, T.L. started his dark blue, almost black Nissan Altima. He backed the sedan out of its parking space then exited the lot. T.L made sure he was no more and no less than two car lengths behind the tan KIA.

Lance & Sean

Sean Whirley unlocked the door of the apartment he and Lance Knight. Two years ago, the college randomly chose them to be roommates and, after a few weeks, the two became best friends. Sean loved how open, friendly, and accepting his roommate was. When he learned the brunet's sibling and in-laws were gay, it made coming out to Lance a lot easier for the half African-American, half Asian. Sean didn't grow up in a loving environment. His parents treated him like a hindrance and didn't accept his sexuality. So, the affection starved young man soaked up the love, attention, and acceptance Lance and his family showed him like a sponge.

Once inside, Sean toed off his sneakers and placed them in the closet with the rest of the shoes. Among other things, Lance and Sean shared a house rule of no shoes inside the house unless there's a reason, like bringing in groceries or a large box. The young man walked to the shared bedroom, quietly opened the door, and put his book bag beside the desk next to his bed. After they became close friends, Lance and Sean decided to share a bedroom. That way, there was a guest room in case anyone needed or wanted to stay the night.

A light chuckle escaped the college man's lips as he remembered the day they talked about sharing a room. He'd been relaxing with his light tan bare feet resting on the arm of the chocolate-colored sofa. Lance walked into the room, stood in front of him, and said, "Let's share a room." It shocked the hell out of him when Lance suggested they share a room. "Where'd that come from?" He asked his grinning roomie. Lance chuckled and said. "I think it'd be nice to have a guest room. There's no reason we can't share a room. I mean, I've smelled the socks you've worn for almost a week before changing them when I wake you up in the morning." The brunet giggled and dodged the pillow that got thrown at him. They had a very playful relationship, which Lance demonstrated by grabbing his left ankle in a chokehold. The next thing he felt was his roommate's nails lightly dragging up and down the length of his size eleven bare soles. After a minute of Lance's tickles, his laughter, and the failed attempts of pulling his foot free, Lance asked again. "So, Sean, are we true roommates?" The young man blushed as he remembered agreeing while laughing like a hyena. Unknowingly Sean's toes wiggled and curled in the white ankle socks he was wearing because of the memory of being tickled.

Playful tickling became a comfortable and welcome element of the relationship. It was the same with Lance's older brothers. He once asked his friend why the guys were so playful, and he told Sean that's how they prove they've accepted you as their little brother and see no difference between you and me.

"Yo, Sean, ya home bro?" Lance called out after taking his shoes off. He walked over and set his bottled water on a coaster on the coffee table.

"Hey, how's it going?" Sean asked as he hugged Lance and sat beside him on the sofa. He couldn't take his eyes off Lance's Superman emblem-covered socks. They looked cute on the slightly shorter brunet and were his favorite pair.

"It wasn't too bad, except for a couple of classes and Janice." Lance took a sip of water then leaned against the arm of the sofa. He smiled when Sean reached over, pulled his feet into his lap, then massaged them. This was how the guys conducted most of their talks. Because of his brothers, Lance had no problem being physical with other guys. Although he did make it clear he didn't want them touching his dick or ass.

Sean closed his eyes and shook his head. It still baffled him how Lance was still with the bigoted wench. He knew Lance didn't like to run from a situation just because it was difficult, but this was completely different. It broke his heart to see his best friend treated like crap because he was such a loving person. Sean was brought out of his thoughts by Lance's soft pleasure-filled purrs. He couldn't help giggling because he always thought that was one of the cutest sounds his roommate made.

"What are you giggling about?" Lance asked with a bright smile as his toes wiggled inside their house of cotton.

"You were doing your happy purr thingy." Sean continued to giggle as he lightly scribbled his fingers along the thin stretched fabric covering the feet in his lap. Lance jumped and squirmed while boyishly giggling as his toes curled and he pulled his feet away from Sean's lap.

"I'm sooo gonna get you for that." Lance's eyes sparked with playfulness. He leaned over, kissed Sean's cheek, and laid his head on his friend's lap. As soon as Sean's fingers lightly stroked his hair, Lance began to purr. "I love you, Sean. You're always here for me." Tears formed in the brunet's eyes.

"I love ya more, Lance thanks to you and the family, I know what real love is." Sean leaned over and kissed Lance's nose, which made him giggle. The two men settled into a comfortable silence, letting their thoughts run freely.

"I'm pretty sure I'm about ready to break up with Janice." Lance sighed.

"You already know how I feel and that I support whatever decision you make."

"I know, it's just that I..." Lance's statement was cut short by his and Sean's phones, notifying them they had a text message.

"It's from Adam and Jai. It says meeting at their place around nine. They're concerned about Mikey's health." Sean said.

"Mine says the same thing." Lance's mind immediately went into overdrive. He knew Mikey was hardheaded and didn't let anyone know if something was wrong or bothering him unless he absolutely had to.

Sean picked up on Lance's mood and gently rubbed his neck and upper back. "I'm sure it's not anything serious. There's no use worrying over it right now." He snickered and gently squeezed just above Lance's hips.

"You're right..." Lance stopped speaking his words, got replaced with high-pitched laughter, and his body wriggled and tried to avoid the tickle assault. "Okay, I give! I won't worry yet." Lance said after Sean gave him a break. Once he recovered, the brunet looked at his fourth brother and playfully growled. "You're so dead, at some point."

Sean giggled and kissed Lance's cheek. "You know you loved it and needed bro." He got his phone, called the pizzeria, and ordered a large stuffed crust supreme pizza for himself and Lance.

Patrick and T.L.

The Sportage leisurely drove along the barely populated road. Patrick Lyman was looking forward to getting home. He'd just finished up a grueling week. There were so many papers to grade the man was thankful the holidays were getting closer. He needed the break they provided. Patrick just celebrated his fiftieth birthday and was in pretty decent shape. Thanks to his consistent routine of jogging every evening around the lake, the workouts in his home gym, and laps around his indoor swimming pool, the middle-aged man maintained his muscle tone. The man was so focused on his life and watching the road that he didn't notice the dark car following him.

T.L. parked a couple of houses down from Patrick's home. He turned the car and the headlights off, then sat and waited. He giggled and felt himself getting turned on at the thought of playing with this man. Closing his eyes, T.L let his thoughts wander where they wished. He thought about the feeling of god-like power that coursed through his body as he watched his victims realize he held their lives in his hands. That with one swift flick of a wrist, they would no longer breathe or be hurled into an endless abyss of hysterical laughter. T.L.'s breathing got heavier, and his appendage grew harder. The temperature in his car rose, and he writhed in the seat. Soft sensual moans flowed through the interior as his palm rubbed firmly against his sensitive member. A few minutes later, he felt the warm sticky substance fill his boxer/briefs. Letting himself calm down from the powerful climax, the man panted and wiped his brow.

A couple of hours later, the lights in the house went out. Slowly opening his door, T.L. walked to his trunk and retrieved the bag of toys he kept there. He closed and locked his car, then in the shadows, he silently crept up to the house. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his lockpick set. Since the door was a standard design, it only took a minute or two before the tumblers moved and the back door slowly opened. T.L. slipped his shoes off before entering the quiet home.

In sock-clad feet, the stalker made his way to Patrick's room. He already had the entire layout of the modest dwelling memorized. Thanks to his memorization, T.L. avoided that one squeaky step almost every multi-level house had. He noiselessly opened the bedroom door, and because of the moonlight streaming in the windows, T.L didn't need artificial light.

Patrick used a sleep mask and was unaware he had company. He was also a heavy sleeper and didn't even feel his limbs getting tied to the bed. It wasn't until something tickled his sensitive feet that the man woke up. Patrick had always been very ticklish. It was something he didn't particularly care to endure. The Count Of Montecristo tickled his victim for two hours with no breaks. Ecstasy, that's what he felt pure unadulterated ecstasy as his prey's restrained body writhed as much as possible under the weight of its tickler. T.L.'s eyes glazed over as he climaxed for the second time that night. This time was handsfree. Finally, Patrick's ordeal came to an end in the form of suffocation as he laughed into the pillow pressed against his face. T.L. wrapped the lifeless body in the bedsheets and carried the entire bundle out to his car. He drove to the lake and deposited the body in the brush of a running path.

Mikey

Mikey finished his dinner and washed the dishes, then he went to his bedroom and dressed in his running suit. He attached and activated the body cam, strapped the knife to his arm, and locked the door. The young man was halfway through his nightly run when something shiny on the ground got his attention. Out of curiosity, he went to see what it was. He used a handkerchief to pick up the small item. It was a silver pin of the two faces, comedy/tragedy.

The brunet looked up and saw something else that didn't belong. He straightened up and walked over to the unmoving heap on the grass. Mikey leaned over and gasped and almost vomited as he stared at the dead body. Tears came to his eyes when he realized who it was. Instinctively, the young man pulled out his cell phone and pressed the third programmed number.

"How's my Mikey?" Papa Tony's voice came through the earpiece.

"I...found a body, Papa Ton..." Mikey's response ended abruptly with the clicking of a gun.
"Lake Security. Hands up."

"Get here quick, Papa Tony. I think I'm about to be arrested for a murder I didn't commit."

"What?"

"I said hands up, and give me the phone, son."

Mikey slowly turned around, with both hands raised and, complied with the guard's command. He saw a man who could've been Humpty Dumpty's twin brother, with a bald head so shiny it could light up a baseball field.

The guard roughly took the phone from Mikey's hand. "Yeah, who is this?" He asked in a gruff and uncaring tone.

Mikey couldn't help snickering his Papa Tony was about to rip this guy a new ass hole. The security guard looked at Mikey with a disgusted expression.

"This is Police Commissioner Tony Knight. To whom am I speaking?" Tony didn't use proper grammar very often, only when he tried to be professional. After the disrespectful greeting, Tony was out for blood.

"Yeah, right, and I'm the Queen of England. Look, whoever you are, I'm holding this little bastard till the cops get here to arrest his f**** ass. If ya want to see your fuckin' kid, I'd suggest you get here before he gets locked up." The security guard hung up and put the phone in his pocket.

"I need my phone back, sir." Mikey was working overtime to keep his tone at a respectful level.

"Fuck, you ya little fairy, get in the car."

The guard forcefully pushed Mikey toward the car. Along the way, he knocked the brunet to the ground, hoping he'd retaliate and give him a reason to use his taser. Mikey knew what was happening and didn't take the bait. He just smiled at the guard, which baffled the man. The idiot was unaware of two things. One, his every action got recorded. Two, he failed to notice and relieve Mikey of his knife. Even when he placed the young man in the tiny holding cell, his knife remained on his arm.

The entire time, as he waited, Mikey whistled the same tune over and over. He was giddy over the annoyed look he continued to get.

"Mikey, are you okay?" Dakota asked as he ran right past the security guard without giving him a second glance.

"Excuse me, who the fuck are you?" The guard was outraged at being treated as if he wasn't there.

"Officer Buckingham. Why is Mikey locked up?" Dakota asked as he eyed the man warily.

"I just handed you guys a murderer. I'll get on the force for this."

"You handed us nothing. Not to mention if this man were an actual killer, you'd be dead right now." Dakota said as he replaced his badge after shoving it in the guard's face.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Dakota walked over to his angel and pointed to Mikey's arm. "I'm talking about this, you imbecile. You're supposed to make sure any possible suspect is unarmed."

Mikey smiled. "Hey, Kota, do you know how sexy you look right now? Oh, he took my phone”

Dakota gently kissed his newly acquired boyfriend. "You poor baby, what the hell happened to you?" The officer asked as he brushed the dirt from Mikey's clothing.

The guard tried to intimidate the younger brunet with a menacing stare. "He tripped and fell a few times and got unruly, so I had to get a bit rough with him."

"I don't believe he asked you." The pissed-off tone got everyone's attention. "You need to give him back his phone."

"Hi! Commissioner Knight. I'm sure you'll want to check my camera's feed on your hard drive." After putting his phone in his pocket, then assuring Tony and Dakota he was fine, the brunet gave his Papa and boyfriend a hug while the guard was placed in the squad car and taken to the precinct. "Don't forget you've got a body to take care of the scene hasn't been processed or cordoned off,"

"Do you happen to know who it is and who committed the murder?" Tony asked with a chuckle.

"Yes and no, in that order." Mikey giggled and yelped as he was grabbed around the waist and hefted over Dakota's shoulder. Being only five-foot-eight and weighing one hundred thirty-five pounds, it was easy to pick him up.

"Are you gonna tell us, or do I have to give you a tickle interrogation?" Dakota smirked and playfully smacked Mikey's ass.

"Patrick Lyman, he's a professor at the college," Mikey answered as his boyfriend put him down/ The three of them got in their cars, Mikey rode with Dakota.