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Gabe picked through Tycho's stack of games. “You're really giving me these? This is a lot of games, dude.”
“Games I don't play that take up space, yes. They're all yours,” Tycho muttered from his recliner, eyes fixated on a book. Gabe took one look at the cover-- a dragon of some kind-- and quickly decided he didn't give two shits about the book or its contents.
This got a shrug from his companion as he continued to look through the newest additions to his collection. “...Kinect Sutra?” He wrinkled his nose. “Really, man? Gross.”
Tycho didn't so much as glance at him. “It's broken.”
“Well, if it's broken why the fuck are you giving it to me? I don't want your trash,” Gabe griped, tossing it at him. Tycho glared up at that, thoroughly annoyed now.
“It's functional, it's just wrong, all the time,” he amended.
Gabe scowled at that. “...what do you mean wrong?”
Tycho squirmed. “...it kept giving me poor scores for no reason.”
He winced at the laughter the statement provoked from his best friend. No, not laughter. Laughter was quiet, polite. This was a guffaw, a full body bellow of a laugh that consumed his friend until he couldn't breathe and was just a shaking, crying mess, gasping for air in between giggles.
It went on like that for minutes, even after Tycho threw the box back at him. “Fuck you.”
“I-if I did,” Gabe wheezed out between giggles. “...I wouldn't get a fucking poor.”
“You try the goddamn game then, I'm telling you it's broken. It has this narrow minded excuse for what is and is not acceptable in the bedroom and it's just...it's wrong, okay. It's like how in Scribblenauts you can't just write 'boulder' you need to write 'HUGE ROCK' in order for the game to understand it. It just doesn't have my completely effective and not at all poor methods programmed into it as recognizable.” Tycho visibly tried to calm himself down, but Gabe stood up and sauntered to the television.
“...you aren't actually--”
“What, you told me to.”
Tycho slapped his forehead. “You're not getting naked in my fucking living room. I moved away from you so that that would stop happening.”
Gabe shrugged. “It recognizes actions, right? Movements?” He mimed tugging at an erect phallus-- not his own, but someone else's. “I don't need to get naked.” He paused, eying Tycho suspiciously. “...di...did you?”
Red found its way to Tycho's cheeks. “...well, yes. I just assumed--”
“You just assumed what, that the game wants to see you beat off? You're a fucking pervert.”
“Fine, mime some lewd sex acts in front of my television and see what happens,” Tycho huffed, burying himself back into his book. He kept his eyes glued to the page. “And for the love of god, close the blinds.”
Gabe flipped the device on, making a 'blah blah blah' face as Tycho talked. He eyed the television, suddenly nervous. “You're not going to watch, right?”
Tycho glanced up at that. “...what?”
“You're not going to watch me... you know?”
“You're worried I'm going to watch you not have sex?”
“Yeah.”
Tycho rolled his eyes and flipped a page. “I'll try to restrain myself. Well, get to it, stud, and let me know how you do.”
Gabe snorted and tapped the air, initiating the screen. He tilted his head. “Yeah, wow, that's... that's the Kama Sutra alright. That's some ancient Indian sex instructions right there. Woah. Oh, wow. Okay.” He cracked his neck and stretched in an exaggerated manner, trying to waste as much time before he had to mime what the game referred to as 'the Hirana'.
Poor.
Poor.
Poor.
You lose at sexing.
“Well jesus crunchy christ what the fuck do you want!”
Tycho's lips pursed into an amused smirk. “Told you.”
Gabe sat down defiantly, utterly annoyed at the game's lack of respect for his method. “Okay, me and Kara have done this, and she seemed to like it just fine.” He picked up the box and started reading it. “...oh.”
“Oh?” Tycho flipped another page.
“It's two player.”
Tycho glanced up at that. “Excuse me?”
“It's not gonna recognize it if there's only one person. Like, the game's gonna fail you if there's no one there to... you know.”
“Ah.” Tycho flipped another page. “Ah well, then it's definitely all yours. Brenna would never. She doesn't mind deviation in the bedroom, but only in the bedroom. She seems convinced our children are going to catch us doing it and she doesn't want to explain why daddy's tied up and blindfolded.”
Gabe wrinkled his nose. “I so didn't need to know that about you.”
“What? I like the element of surprise.”
“Nnnngg stop. Okay, so, two player.” Gabe fidgeted with the box, glaring at his score on the screen. Poor, it said. Well, he knew that wasn't true. “Get over here and do this with me.”
Tycho snorted. “Good lord, no.”
“Well, now that we know how to play, we need to have the game decide who is better, me or you. Get your punk ass over here,” Gabe ordered. “We need to settle this.”
He closed his book, amused. “Settle this? Settle what? Is my sexual prowess something that concerns and worries you? That's outstanding.”
“Shut up and get over here.”
Tycho got to his feet and looked the television over. “Really?”
Gabe hopped to his feet, stretching some more. “Yes, really.”
The two were quiet for a second, the only sound in the room being Gabe's feet as he ran in place.
“So I suppose you're going first,” Tycho muttered, eying the television. “The Nagabandha. You're kind of a perv, you know that?”
“How so?”
“These are all like... doggy style and anal positions.”
“I'd love to know why you know that.”
Tycho shrugged. “I have a copy of the Kama Sutra. I thought everyone did. It's kind of a fun read, actually.”
“Nngg.” Gabe shushed him and the two watched the demonstration. He tilted his head. “That looks painful. It's like doing a split with a dick up your vag.”
Tycho rolled his eyes. “The book doesn't word it as such, but yes. Brenna seems fond enough of it. The angle--” He made a box with his hands and turned it on its side. “Well, I guess it's pleasurable enough. Now come on, let's get this ridiculous contest over with.”
Gabe watched his friend ease himself onto an ottoman he'd pulled over, thoroughly annoyed. “I swear to your god and everything else you find holy, if you pull my leg or hurt my back I'm going to fucking murder you. Elliot's in his 'wrestling' phase and I just don't have time to recuperate, Gabriel.”
“Oof, I've been there, buddy. It's a rough couple of months,” Gabe muttered, gingerly grabbing his friend's ankle. “...this is kind of weird.”
“Noooo, you think?” Tycho snapped sarcastically as Gabe positioned his crotch against him. He glared at the television and waved a hand at the start button. After a few poors because Gabe didn't move Tycho swung his leg back and jerked him into thrusting against him, prompting a good from the game. “You're off to a bad start, stud.”
“Fuck you, man.”
“I believe that is the point, yes.”
Gabe swallowed and started his pretend thrust against his best friend, who had the nerve to pull out a book and began reading. “Uh, hi, two person activity here.”
Tycho sighed angrily. “What would you like me to do,” he muttered, flipping a page. “I don't exactly have a huge role in this.”
“Well, I don't know, I'm getting goods and not greats and that's gotta be your fault.”
“It could just be that you're not great.”
“Not possible.”
Tycho closed his book and drummed his fingers on the cover, annoyed. He smirked and glanced at Gabe, again jerking his 'partner' forward with his leg until the delicately timed thrust actually met his crotch. Gabe had been careful not to actually touch Tycho, apparently averse to the idea of their genitals making even through-clothing contact. Gabe shrieked a little in response, but perked up when the game responded with excellent.
Excellent, really? So it went by... depth? Speed? Who the fuck knew. He liked being excellent. His like of being excellent outweighed his dislike of grinding against his best friend. He thrust again with similar force, this time getting a great.
Not as good. He clearly needed to try harder.
Tycho opened up his book, but found it a little difficult to concentrate. Gabe had finally found a rhythm that got him consistent greats and the occasional excellent, but it meant a constant friction against his dick. He gripped his book and gritted his teeth.
Nope. No. He refused to get a hard-on from Gabe grinding against him. He refused. He refused, he just--
Well, fuck. Too late. Goddamn biology, didn't Gabriel understand that rubbing and grinding and thrusting and friction lead to this sort of response? He chewed on his lip. “Gabe, I don't think thi--”
“Hah!” Gabe jerked away unceremoniously. “Look at that score. Beat that, you dumb fucker.”
Tycho growled under his breath and glared at the screen, visibly annoyed. “I see it. It's not exactly impressive.”
“Better than all of yours combined.”
“Because I was playing the game wrong!”
Gabe sat down on the ottoman. “Pick a position and let's prove it then.”
“Fine. If it's all the same to you, I'm going for something a little more modern,” Tycho mused, flipping through the list. Gabe just shrugged. “...reverse cowgirl? What the fucking fuck?”
“Oh, it's easy,” Tycho smirked. This would show him. He eyed the television and pulled himself onto Gabe's lap.
He grabbed his hands and positioned them on his ass, in spite of Gabe's protests. “What, no, I--”
“This is how it's done, Gabriel, and I won't let you cheat me out of my points by refusing to play your role right.”
Gabe pouted. “Fine, god. Whatever. You weren't exactly helping me out.”
“Hey, I helped you find the right pacing, didn't I?” Tycho mused, flicking an arm up to begin the round. He slinked an arm around Gabe's neck and grinded his hips against his, drawing an awkward squeak from his friend.
There we go. That fucker deserved a little awkward discomfort after what he'd managed to do.
Tycho found, to his amusement, Gabe was hard after just a few well-placed thrusts. He was unamused to find that this was... really and truly turning him on. This wasn't just about biology anymore. There was something fun about the element of control involved, the humiliation. Gabe's face was an amusing shade of red as he tried hard to think unsexy thoughts in order to calm his erection down.
The chorus of greats from the screen were quickly become excellents as Tycho thrust harder. He drew their bodies closer, panting into his friend's shoulder. Unintentionally (or perhaps, intentionally) Gabe had begun to fondle Tycho's ass. Maybe that's why the score had gone up. The Kinect really was observant.
Tycho came to a screeching halt when Gabe let out a gasping moan at a particularly rough thrust. The two sat in silence, not even breathing. They had both heard it.
Gabe swallowed audibly. The screen was letting out a chorus of poors at the sudden lack of movement.
After a moment, Tycho just laughed. Gabe wished he was invisible, or dead, or both. He wish he was some sort of invisible corpse, and he wished that Tycho wasn't straddling him at the hips and he wished that he wasn't laughing at him.
“I think I win,” Tycho said teasingly, breath hot against Gabe's ear.
“What? No way,” Gabe hissed. “Your score took a fucking nosedive, just look.”
Tycho did look. His round was up, and it was true-- he'd been off to a good start, but the moan had frozen them both until he'd failed the round. “So?”
“So? You lose, n-now get off.”
“I might not have as many points as you do,” Tycho conceded, pulling his arms from around Gabe's neck. “But I also didn't fucking moan. I clearly win on principle.”
Gabe's face turned that ridiculous shade of red again and he shoved him away. “GET OFF.”
Tycho didn't. He grabbed his wrists and stayed put, amused smirk on his face. “Admit I won.”
“Won what?”
“The contest. Out of the two of us, I am clearly superior when it comes to the carnal arts, as proven by your inability to control yourself.”
Gabe's face twisted in annoyance. “S-says you. Fine. Fine! Round three'll settle it.”
Tycho blinked curiously. “Round th--” He was silenced when Gabe slinked a hand behind his neck and jerked him into a kiss. Gabe's freehand found its way to Tycho's ass again and somewhat instinctively Tycho's back arched a bit.
He accepted the challenge and deepened the kiss. He pulled away, panting. “R-rules. We need rules. How do we decide who wins?”
Gabe swallowed for air. “First to moan?”
“Too easy.”
“...f...first to cum?”
Tycho raised an eyebrow, amused. “How devious. I didn't think you had it in you.”
“So you agree?”
The two locked eyes for a second before Tycho jerked a hand forward for a handshake. “Agreed. I hope you're prepared to cream your fucking panties, though.”
Gabe shook his hand, smirking a little. “Screw you.”
Tycho jerked him forward, lips nearly meeting again. “That's the idea,” he sneered, jerking him back into another kiss.
It occurred to Tycho that this was weird, the really really weird kind of weird that should give you pause, but at the same time it was more weird that in the decade and a half that they had been friends this hadn't happened before. Their friends and wives made jokes about their relationship-- jabs at how much time they spent together, the fact that they had shared a bedroom in their tiny little two bedroom apartment so that they could have a computer room for computers and only computers, how open they were when it came to discussing porn.
Tycho was sexually devious in his own right, and openly so (usually just because he enjoyed making people uncomfortable), and Gabe... well, Tycho didn't ask, usually, but those rather consistent dreams about Spider-man had to mean something. His back arched and he let out a bit of a moan when Gabe snaked a hand up his sweater.
Yes, definitely something.
Blindly Tycho fumbled for Gabe's hips, undoing his jeans. In the process he successfully deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into his friend's mouth. Gabe seemed a bit startled at that but he quickly returned the gesture.
Tycho broke the kiss to pant against his shoulder. “You're not a terrible kisser.”
“Th-thanks?” Gabe squeaked out nervously, pulling his hand from the small of Tycho's back (it had been hot to the touch, and just a bit wet, and it felt so good).
“It was just an observation,” Tycho mused, bringing his lips to Gabe's neck. He trailed his tongue up his neck, coaxing a shudder from Gabe.
Oh, he was so going to lose.
Gabe whimpered a bit, unsure of what to do with himself now that Tycho was leaving the mother of all hickeys on his neck. He was just trying very hard not to moan again, he didn't want to give Tycho that satisfaction. Blindly Tycho grabbed Gabe's hand and brought to back to his ass, beginning a teasingly slow grind against his friend's hips.
Well, there went holding back a moan.
Gabe practically melted against him, hands clawing at Tycho's back and ass. He swallowed and half pulled away, nodding to Tycho's sweater. “O-off. Take it off.”
Tycho smirked, and Gabe fucking hated him for it, but he did as he was told. He tossed the sweater aside and slipped off Gabe's shirts, pulling them both over his head. He dropped the tangled mess of clothing beside him and peeled himself off of Gabe's lap. “Couch.”
“Right, yes, right,” Gabe managed, voice jumping out of octave. Tycho just about shoved Gabe to the couch, taking back his position on his lap. He gave himself ample room to work now, and he slowly unzipped Gabe's jeans.
Too slowly.
Gabe hated him for that, too. Instinctively he grabbed Tycho's hands. “Nnng no I just--”
“Just...what?”
“...it's...weird.”
“Your cock is weird?”
“NO you all... hovering around it is weird. My dick's normal in everything but size. In size it is abnormal, because it's so goddamn huge.” He paused. “I'm like a horse.”
Tycho smirked. “So, what, you're shy? Are you fucking serious?”
Gabe frowned. “I just don't want you to look. It's weird. It's just weird, okay.”
“Fine,” he sighed, pulling himself forward. There was no arguing with Gabe's neurosis. “I won't look.” He kissed his neck again, hand reaching between Gabe's legs. He slipped it beneath the band of his underwear and started stroking him roughly, much to Gabe's gasping, pleasured annoyance. His back arched with every tug, every stroke and when Tycho dared to squeeze the organ, well, Gabe thrust into his hand with a mild moan.
Tycho nibbled on his neck, finding himself a decent rhythm between grinding against him and stroking his partner. Gabe suddenly pulled him from his neck and jerked him into another kiss, arms snaking around Tycho's neck. Tycho's freehand looped around his waist, bringing them impossibly closer together.
Tunnel vision brought Tycho back to Gabe's neck (he liked necks, even boring human necks), teeth scraping and biting against his flesh. Gabe panted, nails clawing at Tycho's sweat coated back. “Jesus christ.”
“He's got nothing to do with this,” Tycho murmured, kissing behind his friend's ear. He pulled away and undid his own pants, sliding them down his hips. He stopped when Gabe covered his eyes. “...seriously, what are you, five?”
“I DON'T WANNA SEE IT.”
“We've been making out for a good fifteen minutes and I just gave you a goddamn handjob and that's your hang up? The visual aspect of all of this?”
“Nnnnggg.”
Tycho rolled his eyes and slid his khaki pants down. He took Gabe's cock back into his hands and brought their lengths together. “Fuck. You're bigger than me.”
“YOU SAID YOU WOUL-- really?”
He smirked. “Yeah by a little bit.”
Gabe did a celebratory fist pump. “Yesss.”
Tycho stroked their lengths, Gabe's celebration cut short by a gasping moan. He leaned back on one hand, speeding his pace up.
Gabe gasped and thrust into his hand, throwing Tycho's rhythm off, but he soon found it again. He tightened his grip and there it was. A final thrust as Gabe spewed semen on his hand. He laid back panting.
After a moment, he spoke. “You win,” Gabe admitted feebly, staring up at the ceiling.
Tycho sat back, still panting. He swallowed for air, still aroused, still frustrated, still needing release. He hadn't expected to bring Gabe to climax quite so quickly.
They were quiet aside from their attempts to gasp for air. Tycho absently stroked himself, idea budding in the back of his head.
“Best three out of five?”