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Applied Phlebotinum

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The aliens are everywhere, all around them, but Troy can't see them clearly. It's like they're behind glass, backlit, silhouetted; hazy black shapes with too-big, rectangular heads and long-fingered grasping hands, masses of them, dozens, hundreds maybe, all gathered to watch this, clicking and wheezing at each other in their strange language as they – as Abed –

"They can see us," Abed says calmly. As if he's just figuring it out. Troy looks down at his hands, at his fists where they're suddenly gripping the soft bedding that the aliens gave them to . . . do this. They're not unlike Earth blankets.

"Yeah," Troy says softly. "They're watching."

Of course they're watching. It's what they want. To see them do this. Rut like animals in a zoo.

Abed reaches out, tilts Troy's chin back up with two fingers.

"Why?" Abed's expression is curious, inquisitive, maybe even cold, but not leering. Not like the whispering aliens encircling them, trapping them here.

Troy shrugs helplessly. "I don't know! It's just – they told me it's what they want, and if we don't do it they'll kill you. Maybe me too. I guess they're gonna watch to make sure."

Abed nods. Licks his lips. "I don't want to do this," he says slowly.

"Me neither," Troy breathes. "But I – I can't lose you – "

Silently, Abed begins unbuttoning his jeans. His hands are shaking, just a little. Troy reaches over and holds them in his own, stopping them.

"Abed," he says. "No. You don't – you don't have to. I mean. You can do it to me." He swallows, and his throat clicks. "It's okay."

They both hesitate, not moving for one long breath, and outside the barrier in the shadows the aliens' murmuring becomes thicker, angrier. There's a loud banging noise, like a fist with too many fingers pounding heavily against the thick glass in a terrible, even rhythm. Troy jumps, and a second later, so does Abed. The sound repeats five times, then stops.

"Do it fast," Troy says, unbuckling his belt.

"Okay," Abed agrees quietly. But when they get their clothes off and he lays Troy out on the cool soft bedding, his touch is slow on Troy's skin. Abed's hands stroke firmly down Troy's back, over his waist, his ass, down the backs of his thighs to the backs of his knees. Making him shiver and squirm. When Abed presses one slow slick finger into him, Troy pushes back against it ruthlessly, grits his teeth against the words that come next.

"Faster. Just get it over with. I can take it."

"I won't hurt you," Abed says immediately, fiercely. "Not for them. This is – this is still between us." And Abed's other hand is on Troy's back, steadying him, hot against his skin, and Troy can't bear the gentleness of that touch, the care that's contrasted to the cruel shadowy distorted faces, to the whispers and clicks that sound like sniggering laughter.

Abed introduces another finger then, carefully, stroking him from inside and stretching him open. Troy moans, presses his hot face down into the bedding.

"It's okay," Abed says, and Troy hopes it's quiet enough that the aliens don't hear, or that they can't understand. "It's okay, I've got you."

Troy spreads his thighs wider and closes his eyes shut and tries to just focus on the sensation, the way Abed's hands are warm and kind and willing to do this for him. To save their lives even if it means doing something he doesn't want to do. He tries to block out the shapes behind the barrier, to pretend they're not there even though their voices are coming louder now and Troy can't help but hear them.

"We don't have any choice," Abed murmurs, and then he's taking his fingers away.

"We don't," Troy pants.

"This is what we have to do to survive." Abed's cock is in him then, pushing into Troy in one long slow movement. His arms go around Troy's middle. Troy rises up on his hands and knees, pushes back against Abed, taking him deeper inside. They take a moment to adjust to each other, breathing hard, and the alien fist pounds against the glass again, harder this time but in the same perfect measured rhythm. Demanding a show.

"Do it," Troy spits. He wishes he weren't hard, but his cock is heavy between his legs, pushing up against his belly, leaking onto the pristine alien sheets.

"I'm going to fuck you now," Abed says, as if that's not what Troy just told him to do. He pulls back and thrusts, powerful but not too fast, still being gentle, still trying to make this good for Troy. Abed's body is slick against his, hot, sweaty. Abed thrusts again, and Troy can't help but make a noise, like a cry. His voice sounds broken.

"No," he gasps, in the next moment, but it's too late and Abed is thrusting forward again and they're going to see, they're all going to see, and Troy wants to sob because Abed's hands are holding him, holding him up while the aliens click and jeer and shift frantically in perverted excitement. This is what the aliens want from him: to make him crack, to make him break, to make him lose it. He doesn't want to give them the satisfaction but Abed feels so good inside him, and now the noise coming out of him sounds like a sob.

Abed reaches around and wraps his hand firmly around Troy's cock, strokes in time with the fucking. Troy lets his head hang between his shoulders and he can't help but give them what they want, can't help but make noise now on every stroke because it feels so good, and he wishes it didn't but it does, Abed on him and in him, covering him, encircling him, trying to protect him.

"Abed," he pants, desperate, "Abed, please – "

Troy doesn't know what he's begging for, but maybe Abed does because he leans down, plasters himself against Troy's back, and puts his lips next to Troy's ear.

"Shhhhhhh," he says, soft and quelling and kind. Troy shudders, his whole body shudders and he comes, spilling over Abed's fingers, held still in Abed's arms. It seems to go on and on, agonizingly, perfectly, and he's caught completely in the moment, trapped, while at the edge of his hearing the aliens titter and thrill and click their approval.

When it's over he wants to collapse down into the blankets but he's not finished yet, they're not finished yet, and they can't stop now. Troy braces his arms and holds himself up, bears their combined weight as Abed keeps on fucking him. He's sweating, shaking, fucked open and exposed. Now every thrust sets off a chain reaction inside him, sparking with pleasure so intense that it's almost like coming again, or like being just about to come, held up on that edge with nowhere to go.

He's so caught up in it that he almost doesn't notice when Abed comes, except the noise Abed makes is a deep, guttural grunt so unlike him that it shocks Troy back into awareness. Abed's fingers dig painfully into his hips and Abed's teeth bite down on Troy's shoulder and he makes that noise again, but more drawn out now, more like a helpless moan, involuntary, instinctive. Like an animal.

When it's over Troy does collapse, lets his aching muscles give out, and tumbles down into the soft waiting blankets.

Just like that their surroundings shift and change; the lights come up, the barrier disappears, and the aliens are gone. Troy and Abed are back in the Dreamatorium where they started.

Slowly Abed pushes himself up off of Troy, pulls himself out of Troy. Falls over on his back. He's breathing hard. Troy's never seen him breathe hard, not even when they were doing all those athletic competitions.

"They transported us back," Abed pants. "They fulfilled their end of the bargain."

"Yeah," Troy agrees. "They did." Leaning over, he kisses Abed on his red mouth.

Abed kisses him back.