Strong Bad's hands tightened around the edge of the poker table, his white fingertips digging into the green material. This was what he got for being so damn clever, trying to get back at Tycho for assaulting him a few nights previously. He should have guessed that confronting the psycho about it, (and subsequently trying to punch him square in the jaw), would not work in his favour.
All he could do was scrunch his eyes shut and pretend none of this was happening. Pretend that he couldn't feel a hand running up his torso, while another one tugged mercilessly at his hair. (He was definitely going to get a haircut and wear shirts from now on.) He wanted to forget about how his senses drove him mad, and how he lost a little more self-control with every touch.
The main thing that bothered Strong Bad was that he wasn't even putting up much of a fight. It was like he just couldn't bring himself to stop all this. If you had told him any day before this encounter that there was so much sexual tension between the two of them, you would have left with a black eye. However now, forced against the edge of the table with Tycho's body pressing against his back, it was incredibly apparent.
Everything started to get hazy as Strong Bad found his breath becoming steadily quicker and shallower. He tried to keep as quiet as possible; he was not going to give Tycho the satisfaction of knowing that his plan was working very well. However when a hand suddenly slipped under the waistband of his pants, silence went out the window. A small moan escaped his lips, and that was all Tycho needed. He started to quicken his movements, pushing steadily from behind in order to press Strong Bad further into the table. This got quite a noticeable reaction - every one of Strong Bad's previous worries quickly dissipated and his body finally took over.
The tightness of his pants became quite uncomfortable, and Tycho was only making it worse. His hand started to wander away from the area requiring the most attention and began exploring Strong Bad's back. He twisted and arched his back as he felt the touch brush slowly up his spine. Finally Tycho's other hand let go of his shoulder-length hair and shortly joined in the game of "drive Strong Bad absolutely crazy". It sure was working, but like hell he'd stoop so low as to beg for anything. (As much as he could help it, at least.) He'd just try to be as patient as possible and wait for the mind-games to e-
Strong Bad's thoughts were immediately interrupted when a hand suddenly cupped his buttock, as another began pulling down on the waistband of his pants. He found his face involuntarily flushing as he felt the tight material slide down to his thighs. (The fact that the air was so cold wasn't much help either.) The sound of a zipper being undone was slightly unsettling…but considering his current arousal, it was also a relief. He just wanted it to be over and done with, so he could go on with wiping his memory and possibly admitting himself to a psyche ward for a few days.
Tycho's sadistic nature would normally result in drawing out this encounter as long as possible at the expense of Strong Bad's sanity. However, he was getting quite restless and really just wanted to finish himself off. The mind-games will have to wait for another day. He pulled a small tube out his pocket and hurriedly prepared himself, taking a moment to press forcefully against Strong Bad just in he case he didn't get the idea. Of course he did, but it was more fun this way.
Strong Bad was practically pounded into first time, and he gave a small yelp out of surprise and pain. He felt Tycho's hands tighten around his hips as he began to thrust just as forcefully as he had started. Strong Bad gritted his teeth as he tried to bear the pain. Then Tycho's frantic thrusts began to hit that one critical bundle of nerves, and everything changed. Strong Bad cried out for the first time, and his tense muscles practically melted away.
His grip tightened around the edge of the poker table. He felt Tycho press closer to his body, the touch of his hands becoming a little more personal. He ran them up and down Strong Bad's torso, stroking him rather than teasing him. He pressed his lips to the other man's shoulder, then began planting a trail of kisses along his neck. The thrusts became deeper and less frantic as they fell into a steady rhythm.
Strong Bad began to make an assortment of noises, ranging from growls to moans to weird gurgling sounds. Tycho smiled at the last type of sound that he heard, then promptly resigned himself to scrunching his eyes shut. He could not allow any kind of personal involvement with Strong Bad. This was purely a form of stress relief and nothing else. He had a wife for god's sake! He would not allow himself to find this any more enjoyable than it needed to be.
Tycho become rougher and more frantic again as he realised the entirety of his actions. He braced his own hands against the edge of the poker table as he readied himself for climax. He poured all of his anger into those last few moments as he felt the entirety of his being building up for that one release. If he was going to get rid of any emotions, it would be the worst of them all. Anger had driven him to start this, and he sure as hell couldn't let it happen ever again. Yes, he was going to flush all the negativity out of his system, if not just for a little while.
Tycho let a few grunts escape his lips as he pushed himself as hard as he could. He could feel the world melting away completely, everything becoming white-hot as he strove for one goal. Strong Bad's cries had grown in volume only slightly, but just enough that they started to create an echo in the spacious room. He felt as if he was right on the edge. It was now or never.
The two cried almost in unison as they reached completion mere seconds apart. Tycho stood still for a moment before promptly disentangling himself from Strong Bad and getting ready to leave. Strong Bad felt small beads of sweat covering his body, his energy entirely sapped from his body. He didn't even care if Tycho left or not, he just collapsed face-first onto the table. He soon realised he felt something horribly familiar and sticky against his chest. Great, he'd gotten it all over the table. That won't be freaking impossible to explain to the guys next poker night.
After a few moments he picked himself up, pulled up his pants and looked around for a way out. He saw that Tycho was still in the room, lurking by the exit indecisively. Strong Bad looked at him curiously, noticing that the hint of apology in his eyes. They stood there silently for a few moments before Tycho turned around and walked through the doorway, leaving Strong Bad to deal with his trauma all by himself once again.