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1.
Troy gets distracted too easily.
He knows this about himself, it’s always been a thing. It’s cool though- he kinda knows how to do two things at once, like watching a movie and doodling cartoon dogs simultaneously. Abed, with his laser-sharp focus, would probably scold him for that.
Right now, Abed is talking about Batman. Specifically, the animated series and how Mark Hamill’s joker is fantastic and great and amazing and a lot more positive adjectives. And Troy is staring.
Abed talks with his hands. More specifically, he points with his finger. A lot. And it catches Troy’s attention because movements often do, as well as so many other things (beeping noises, squirrels, people singing). It’s interesting, the finger-point habit. Troy offhandedly wonders if there’s any method to it at all.
Abed has nice hands, that’s something he notices too. Long fingers, a little bony. Big hands.
Troy has relatively smaller hands. This was a little embarrassing in high school, when the girl he liked tried to compare sizes with him but they ended up having the same size.
He would bet Abed has never had to deal with that issue, that embarrassment. If anyone wanted to hold his hand, they’d be all impressed by them. Sometimes Troy gets to hold them too, and that’s nice. Abed’s hands are always colder than his.
He's aware that it’s a bit odd to ponder on his best friend’s hands. But he can’t help it.
Ever since last year, when he met Abed, Troy has become more and more infatuated with him. He tried to pretend like this wasn’t the reality for a while. Because it's a little gay, maybe, to be so fascinated with a dude. Troy’s high school friends certainly would say so. But then again, they aren't here. Troy is not in high school anymore, so maybe it's fine to be sort of obsessed with his best friend.
He can’t blame himself, really. Abed is awesome- everyone knows that. Girls and guys and all kinds of people all over campus know that. Troy is a lucky guy to get to be best friends with him. And if his hands are nice to look at, then that’s only a bonus.
“Troy, did you pay attention to anything I was saying?” Abed perks up. His eyes are not judgmental or condemning. He’s just asking.
“I got distracted,” Troy grins sheepishly.
Abed smiles a little, almost like he noticed that Troy was staring at his hands, before nodding slowly. A blush spreads over Troy's cheeks. He feels like he's been caught doing something bad.
“That’s okay,” Abed tells him now, “I was about to tell you my opinion about different iterations of the Batsuit throughout history.”
“I’m paying attention,” Troy assures.
“Cool,” Abed nods.
And Troy does pay attention, but the thought lingers. He falls asleep that night in between tosses and turns. When he dreams, it's of long fingers, careful hands. Abed could probably hurt someone with his hands. In Troy's dream, he doesn't hurt him badly. He just tugs on his hair a little. And then pushes him against a wall.
Troy's underwear is damp when he wakes in the middle of the night. He presses his face into his pillow and swallows down his self-pity. Then he gets up for a glass of water, and he falls back asleep again.
It's messed up. He knows that. In the morning, after he awakens, he feels shame lingering.
He decides to ignore it.
2.
In between all the trampoline-jumping and Pierce getting mad about Jeff and Troy keeping relaxation secrets, Annie comes up to Troy, bouncing up and down on her feet.
“Abed is so good at being mean!” she says, glowing, “he’s taking down all the bitches of this school. It’s amazing!”
Troy blinks, shaking himself out of his trampoline-induced haze. “What are you talking about?”
“You know how Abed overdescribes sometimes? Turns out it’s really useful when he wants to be mean. He’s so good at insulting people!”
Troy blinks again, ruminating on Abed’s little side adventure of this week’s episode.
Annie giggles and squeals all girly and then she’s off again, and Troy is left standing there, thinking about Abed being mean.
He’s not surprised about this hidden skill. He’s familiar with Abed overdescribing. Abed is pretty apt at hitting someone where it hurts. Just a few weeks earlier, when Jeff and Britta were getting married but it all turned out to be fake, Abed had delivered a blow so harsh to Jeff, that Troy was surprised he’d ever recovered from it.
“TV makes sense, it has structure, logic, rules, and likable leading men,” he’d said, “In life, we have this. We have you,”, and then he just walked off.
It came easy to him.
Later in his room at Pierce’s mansion, when Troy has sufficiently come down from the shock of Joshua the Trampoline Guy being racist all along, he thinks about it again. He’s not sure why.
Abed is always nice to him. He’s probably nicer to Troy than anyone ever has been. He never judges him, and he’s always patient enough to explain stuff when Troy doesn’t understand.
They have fun together, the two of them. So much fun that it’ll sometimes twist in Troy’s chest, near where his heart is. Like he wants this forever. Like he wants even more.
So, Abed is nice, but he can apparently also be mean, and Troy finds himself wondering what Abed would say if he were to be mean to him.
He’d probably call Troy stupid, something like that. Or maybe he’d call out his ceaseless need to be liked. Maybe he’d be mean about the way Troy always wears a shirt under his sweaters (he can’t help it- the fabric tickles his skin otherwise) like he's not aware it makes him look like a kid.
Maybe Abed would be even meaner than that. Maybe he’d say- “I know you’re obsessed with me,” in that observant manner, a quirk of his eyebrow, “it’s a little sad, don’t you think Troy?”
Because Abed knows everything.
Suddenly, Troy feels the incessant need to jerk off. He stares at the ceiling for a while. He’s hard. Why is he hard?
Well, he knows. He knows why. But that’s a weird thing to get hard about; the idea of your best friend being mean to you. Like, super insanely fucking weird.
And still, Troy's hand travels down his sweatpants.
He wraps his fingers around himself and feels shame burn in his chest again. He’s reminded of high school, when he used to get off thinking about the feeling of getting pushed around on the football field. He felt horrible about not being able to come thinking about girls and boobs and stuff like any normal boy would.
He hated himself then and he hates himself now.
Regardless, he speeds up his rhythm. Squeezing his cock tighter, he thinks about that pretty girl Meghan, how Abed was really mean to her, but then Troy had spotted them walking to Abed’s dorm together afterward.
They probably had sex. Abed has no problem getting laid, so it would make sense. Abed probably undressed her and pushed her down on his bed and then said mean things again, but in a different voice. Troy can just imagine it.
He arches against the mattress, pushing up into his fist. He’s almost there.
He thinks about Abed’s nimble hands, sneaking around his wrists, pressing into his shoulder blades, pushing him down instead. Abed is stronger than Troy. He’d beaten him at arm wrestling that one time. He would hold him down good, and murmur things into his hair that would maybe make him cry. But it would be a good cry, and maybe Abed would kiss him better after it all.
Fuck. Troy suppresses the whine that’s been building in his throat, biting into his hand, and then he just lets go, coming all over his hand.
He cleans himself up after that, feeling gross. Abed is his best friend. He needs to seriously stop this train of thought before it derails any further.
3.
Troy stops thinking about it for a while. He does well.
He and Abed move in and it’s incredible. Troy likes him more every day, and if it’s a little bit more than just a friendly feeling that he feels, then that’s okay. It’s not like he’s ever going to act on it. He’s not gay, and even if Abed sleeps with guys sometimes, that doesn’t mean he likes Troy, or could ever like him.
It’ll pass soon enough.
"You look nice in gray," Abed says, as they stand in front of the bathroom mirror, getting ready for Shirley’s wedding rehearsal.
They’re normal now, so they wear normal gray suits, and Abed gives compliments based on physical appearance like he normally barely thinks to do.
"Thank you," Troy says in a sophisticated manner, or at least an attempt of it.
Abed turns to him. "Your skin tone complements the suit. It's good that we chose to match for this."
He adjusts his hair in the mirror, winking and shooting finger guns. Troy finds that he's blushing like an idiot. It’s fair though- Abed looks really good in a suit, and he's complimenting Troy, and the voice he’s using to be normal is also very nice.
"Tie?" Abed asks then, pointing at Troy’s tie-less collar.
"I can't," Troy says self-consciously. "My dad tried to teach me...but I never got it. He always got mad at me so it was hard to understand."
He remembers briefly how his dad would yell at him over nonsense things like these. It would make him unfairly upset at his own incompetence.
"That makes sense,” Abed clicks his teeth. “I can show you?” he offers after a brief look of consideration.
Troy teeters on his feet, feeling insecure over not being able to tie a tie like an adult. Jeff is probably amazing at tying a tie. Troy's a little stupid- Abed would probably agree.
"Okay...yeah," he accepts eventually, "yeah."
"I won't get mad at you," Abed assures calmly.
"I know.”
Slowly, Abed steps into Troy's space. The light of the bathroom falls on the side of his face and he looks undeniably attractive like this. He smells good too, of cologne and firewood and those sweet cherries that people put in cocktails. His hair is styled nicely with some wax, and his eyebrows lift a little when he notices Troy staring.
“Sorry,” Troy mumbles, feeling dumb again.
“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” Abed says. He sounds genuine, like he really doesn’t know.
So Troy lets it go. Abed lifts his hands, holding the striped tie in his left hand.
“Lay the tie around your neck like this,” he instructs, doing as he says. His eyes are focused on where he’s fixing Troy up.
“This is a Windsor Knot,” he explains, “the most basic way to tie a necktie. Loop the thick part around- that’s the blade. Do it twice so you make a loop. Then tuck it in, like this.”
He ties the tie for him. For some reason, Troy’s heart is beating so hard in his chest. Maybe it’s the proximity between them, or Abed’s instructive, patient tone, or his eyes, constantly focused in on that area around Troy's throat. His hands feel good too, touching around his neck. Every time they brush past his skin, Troy wants to press into them, to feel him touch for a little longer.
“Did you get that? Or should I explain one more time?” Abed asks, ripping Troy out of his train of thought, his eyes travelling up to catch his gaze.
“Maybe one more time,” Troy mumbles.
“Hmm,” Abed hums. Then his hands come up to Troy’s shoulders to grab him. He turns him around, gently, so he’s facing the mirror. Abed goes to stand behind him.
“Watch in the mirror as I tie it for you. That way, you’ll get the visual of it. Cool?”
Troy finds himself nodding, breathless.
Abed slowly loops his arms around his shoulders, undoing his tie for him, and Troy can do nothing but watch. He tries to breathe in deeply, but finds it staggering in his throat. It feels good, when Abed tugs the tie loose. That pressure on his neck.
When it’s off, Abed lays the tie around Troy’s collar once more.
“Wrap it around,” he says lowly, close to his ear. “Once, twice. Then tuck it in like this.”
Troy watches his long fingers work the tie. He tightens it, when the knot is complete. His fingertips rest gently against the sides of Troy's throat for a while. He makes eye contact with him in the mirror, his lids low.
“Too tight?” he asks.
Troy shakes his head slowly.
Abed lingers a moment, just slightly longer. His fingers press into Troy’s throat, feeling around where the tie sits, to make sure that it’s comfortable.
“Good,” he says then, stepping back, “now you know.”
Troy swallows thickly, feeling shivers all over. He clears his throat.
“Thanks,” he murmurs.
Abed nods sharply, a light smile dancing on the edges of his mouth.
“No problem, now let’s get to this wedding rehearsal, shall we? We don’t want to be late.”
They're back to normal after the wedding (or rather, back to not-normal). Late that night, from his place in the top bunk, Troy lets his fingers ghost over where Abed had touched him earlier. Then he puts his hand around himself, both his neck and dick, painfully hard in his underwear at the fragments of the memory.
This doesn't often happen. Jerking off in the bunk bed isn't ideal. But sometimes Troy can't help it.
He can pull it off if he's quiet.
4.
A criminal is on the loose. Their yam is dead.
Troy is playing his role well, he thinks. He and Abed agreed beforehand that he would be the mean cop, and they'd switch halfway through the episode (Abed's words). And even though Troy is not good at being mean like Abed can be, he does his best.
He does the bad cop thing and gets mad at the guy being interrogated; Star-Burns in this case. They walk out frustrated, with Troy still pretend-seething.
In the hallway, Abed catches him off-guard by grabbing him by the lapels of his leather jacket and yanking him into an empty classroom. He shuts the door and crowds Troy against it.
"Barnes, you're losing your cool. We won't get a confession when you're freaking out about condiments," he says sternly.
"Well- you're going too easy on him," Troy scoffs. He takes a step closer, attempting to be intimidating. "You lost your edge, Nadir," he tells Abed, never breaking eye-contact.
"I'm telling you to dial it down," Abed says. His tone is cautioning, like there will be consequences if Troy doesn't listen to him.
Troy feels a pit in his stomach, hot and heavy. Abed's voice is unlike he's heard before; so raspy and low and commanding.
"As far as I know, Shirley is the one giving us orders," Troy makes himself say, looking up at him, "I don't answer to anyone besides her, especially not a cop gone soft. Did you forget we're dealing with criminals, Nadir?"
Abed gaze turns darker, and before Troy knows it, he's being pressed against the door. Abed's hand is pushing at the base of his throat, right along his collarbones.
"I have not gone soft," he grumbles.
Troy feels like he can't breathe. Abed's fingers are burning into his skin. And really, he's only lightly pressing in. It’s playful at best. He’s committing to the role, like he always is.
But it feels so incredibly good. Troy wants to push back against his hand, feel it tighten there so he'll be completely restrained by Abed's grip. Fuck, what is happening to him?
Abed is staring at him through low lids, breathing as heavily as Troy is. His eyes then flicker down to his throat, once, and up again. And when he catches Troy's eyes again, he smirks just a little, in that knowing manner that Troy recognizes, before it fades again.
Troy might sink into the ground.
"I think we should switch now," Abed whispers, sliding his hand down slowly so it's pressing against his chest.
"Yeah, yeah, okay," Troy croaks out. His voice is all wobbly.
And then Abed is gone, after giving Troy a friendly pat on the shoulder. He's shaking his head and furiously blinking and wiggling his hands to get into character.
Troy inhales through his nose. He's confused, and feeling warm all over. Not only that, but he's hard in his pants, he realizes now. That interaction just made him hard.
He really, really hopes Abed won't notice.
5.
"Any kinks?" Britta asks him.
They're sitting in bed together, still dressed but on the edge of not being so.
Troy has been dating Britta for about two months now and the sex they have has been entirely lackluster. Not Britta's fault, like, at all. Mostly, entirely Troy's fault.
"Uhm, no. Not that I know of," Troy shrugs.
He's lying, sort of. In reality, he knows exactly what he likes. He's replayed the spare moments between him and Abed in his head enough, at night, under the covers, with his hand shoved down his underwear. He knows.
"Not that you know of- I can work with that!" Britta grins excitedly.
"What does that mean?" Troy blinks.
It's not like he doesn't want to have sex with Britta. He just can't get it up half of the time. She keeps telling him it's okay. It's fine Troy, it happens to anyone. But at some point, he has started to seriously doubt that sentiment.
How could anyone not get hard from Britta? She's seriously hot. Something is just genuinely wrong with Troy.
"It means that we can experiment if you want to. I'm pretty much okay with trying anything once, so whatever you feel like," Britta says now, and that sounds a little scary.
Still. Troy feels kinda desperate. He's sick of having unfulfilling sex and if he's going to commit to this relationship-thing with Britta, he'll need to be open about his preferences.
"Uhm. I like pressure," he finds himself admitting.
Britta sits back and lets Troy's words sink in for a while.
"Like how?"
"Being held down and, uhm, pushed against stuff. And pressure on my throat, I think" Troy clarifies vaguely.
Britta's eyes widen, like she's extremely amused hearing about this. Troy feels like such a loser around her sometimes.
"Choking?" she whispers.
Troy shifts where he's sitting, pulling the duvet over his shoulders. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess. Shit- is that fucked up?"
Britta smiles at him, all encouraging (if not a little patronising).
"No, it's not. It's a pretty common kink," she assures Troy.
He nods slowly.
Not a lot of time passes before Britta is straddling him. And she puts her hands around his neck.
But they're small. Small hands, with longer fingernails. And the pressure doesn't feel like it did with-
Troy closes his eyes.
He thinks about catching Abed's eyes in the mirror, his hands around his neck. He thinks of Abed's cold fingers, how they're long and bony and probably good at being rough too. He thinks of being pulled by his jacket, into a room and then up against a wall. He thinks about Abed treating him however he wants.
Britta presses down on his throat and it does the trick when Troy imagines it's Abed instead, if he doesn't look at her. It works when he thinks of Abed's mean words, his low voice.
It works just fine.
+1
The Dreamatorium is gone. The real one, at least. Abed has a smaller one in his room- a tall cardboard box.
After Troy breaks up with Britta, they starting spending time in it together. It's very cramped. But it's still fun as it ever was, and Troy is glad they're back to normal.
"Can we do the episode with the Anti-Inspector today?" Abed asks him, as they step into the box.
Troy nods enthusiastically. He knows Abed has been fascinated with that specific storyline ever since they watched it, and he likes it as well. He looks forward to acting it out. Partly because it involves Abed acting evil, which is always a cool thing to get to witness.
"Render environment; Planet VX-1 Prurio. The Anti-Inspector captures Constable Reggie and is malintentioned," Abed says.
He gets into the role, putting on a mean face, his eyebrows knitting together.
"Who are you?" Troy asks, in his horrible British accent.
"My positrons were negatized which turned me into the Anti-Inspector," Abed says, sounding exactly like the actor does in the show.
"What are your intentions with me?"
"To kill you, of course. I have no interest in keeping alive a lousy human like you. Unlike your trusty Inspector, a mortal companion is not my weakness."
The thing is, the cardboard box is narrow. They're in each other's face, talking with mere inches between them. Troy feels his heart beat so fast that it might jump out of his rib cage.
"You are not going to succeed. The Inspector will come for me!" he protests.
Abed's eyes glaze over, and he leans forward, staring through his eyebrows in an intimidating manner. After a second, he steps even closer, his body brushing against Troy's.
"Oh yeah?" he asks.
And since there's not that much violence in Inspector Spacetime besides silly blaster-shooting, Troy is pretty sure Abed is improvising when the Anti-Inspector starts attempting to choke Constable Reggie. His fingers slowly slither up Troy's chest, and then they wrap around his neck, pushing methodically. Troy feels it constrict on either side of his throat. It feels-
It feels amazing. And Abed never looks away from Troy, his eyes becoming blacker and blacker by the second.
Now it's like Troy is entirely somewhere else. He forgets his role. He's floating, flush all over, his hands trembling. He gets a little closer, pushing himself into Abed's grip so it'll become tighter, hoping that Abed will understand that he likes this. It's humiliating but he doesn't even care anymore.
Abed clicks his head to the side, looking intrigued. He does tighten his hand then, squeezing harder.
Troy feels his bloodflow cutting off a little. He's slowly becoming lightheaded, in that awesome way that he's been craving for so long.
It lasts a while. And then, Troy feels Abed press a knee between his legs, opening them up a little. His thigh brushes against where Troy's dick is rock hard in his jeans. He pushes, and Troy lets a little sound tumble out of his mouth.
He feels immediately embarrassed. But it's canceled out because of the incredible sensation of Abed's leg offered for Troy to grind against. He does so, hard, for good measure. The pressure feels awesome.
"Constable Reggie, I'm trying to kill you and you're getting aroused. What's wrong with you?" Abed starts to speak, his voice slightly above a whisper.
"I'm sorry-" Troy squeaks out, feeling stupid. Maybe he misread this. He steps back slightly, in shame.
But Abed doesn't let him get very far. He pulls him closer, immediately, his hand still steady around his neck. Troy's ability to breathe is starting to falter a little.
"You like being held down? You like being choked like this, you filthy earthling?" Abed says through his teeth.
It seems like he's in character still, but maybe not the Anti-Inspector. A different character, probably. Either way, he has a certain wash over his face that Troy has never ever seen before. His eyes are utterly and completely dark, with wide pupils.
"Fuck. yeah, I'm- I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Abed, I’m sorry," Troy finds himself stuttering.
"Troy, it's fine, stay in character," Abed whispers.
Oh. Cool. Right.
"Did you want me to do something else to you Constable Reggie?" he continues, moving his knee around a little. "Your inspector won't save you for some time. It's just you and me."
Oh. Troy's head fills up with all the possible scenarios of Abed fucking him right here in the tight confinement of the cardboard Dreamatorium.
"Well I would- I want-" he tries, but he can't articulate himself for the life of him. Abed waits for him a little bit before becoming impatient.
"I bet you secretly wish your Inspector touched you like this," he says. His accent is fading, and his real voice starts peeking through, "I bet you want him to bend you over and grab you by the throat and fuck you until you can't stand anymore."
Despite his ever-so flat tone, he sounds hungry for it as much as Troy feels, with his lips parted. Troy wants to cry. He can't hear Abed talk like this and not swoon. His knees buckle, and he lets himself fall against Abed's shoulder a little, hiding away from him so he won't burn up entirely.
"Oh my god, Abed, I can’t stay in character, okay, I just-" Troy moves against his thigh desperately, aching for some friction, his face pressed into his chest as he breathes hard.
Abed brings him back again, maintaining his chokehold.
"Troy, what do you want?" he asks steadily, meeting his gaze.
He loosens his grip a little, massaging the muscles in Troy's shoulder, all nice despite his words.
"I want-" Troy tries.
But he can't do it, his cheeks dripping with embarrassment. He feels like melting.
"Tell me," Abed encourages him, smirking, "don't be shy. Tell me."
"I want you to do...things."
"Use your words."
Troy might actually die. He can't believe this is real. He swallows his pride and takes a deep breath for courage, looking Abed in the eyes.
"I want you to- to choke me and hold me down and..." he bites down on his lip hard, the friction between his legs making him distracted. "I want you to fuck me," he manages then. "Please fuck me. And please just- please be mean to me."
Something changes in Abed's face. Maybe it's surprise, or satisfaction, or pride. Maybe he's enjoying this as much as Troy is. He lifts his chin.
"Okay, Troy. I will," he says solemnly. "Go lie down on my bed. Take off your clothes."
"Yeah, okay."
Troy scrambles over to the bed, doesn't even hesitate a second. It's actually kind of insane how willing he is to listen to Abed. He'll probably do anything Abed tells him to. He kicks off his jeans desperately and pulls his shirt over his head and then drops his boxers as well.
Abed is gone, into the bathroom, getting what Troy presumes are condoms and lube. To fuck me with, he thinks.
He sits with his knees up on the bed, feeling a little awkward. Abed's bedroom smells nice though, like vanilla and rosebuds and spicy deodorant. That eases his nerves a little.
Then Abed comes back in. He has discarded his Inspector Spacetime coat (thank god for that) and is fiddling with a condom packet. His eyes glide over Troy's form and he smiles a little. Then he gets on the bed, on his knees, crawling towards him.
"Before we do this, you have to tell me when to stop," he says, maintaining intense eye-contact. "Tell me when things hurt. Tell me when it's too far. When I'm choking you, tap me twice to let me know if it doesn't feel good. It's completely okay to stop whenever. That clear?"
Troy nods slowly, letting this whole situation sink in. He wonders if maybe they're still in a simulation, in the Dreamatorium, or this is just some super awesome dream.
Abed squints. "Troy, words."
"Yeah. Yes," Troy squeaks.
Abed gives him a once-over again. Luckily, Troy is pretty comfortable naked. Otherwise he'd probably feel a little weird about this. But it's good, to be stared at like this. He enjoys it. He goes to lie down now, moving slowly, propping his head against the pillow.
"Look at you," Abed remarks, his lashes fluttering, eyes raking over his body. "You're so hard, over what? Over just me talking to you, a little dry-humping? How desperate can you be?"
He's sitting there, on his knees on the bed, fully clothed, talking in that flat voice of his like none of this affects him at all. It's too hot. Troy makes a quiet little noise, his head rolling back. Abed's hand slides up his leg then.
"I'm going to open you up first. I bet you can't wait," he smirks, a twinkle in his eyes.
"I can’t," Troy shakes his head. He can't even stop the words from falling between his teeth.
"You should beg me for it."
Abed's hand dances between his thighs, so gentle that his touch is barely even there. Troy squirms.
"Please, please, please Abed. Please touch me. Please use your fingers on me. Please just-"
"Okay, that's enough," Abed cuts him off, his free hand coming up to press against Troy's throat again. And fuck- that feels unreasonably good.
“I bet you’ve thought about this a lot. Isn't that right? You want your best friend to hold you down and fuck you. Aren't you ashamed of yourself Troy?”
Abed presses harder, his fingertips surely leaving marks. Troy feels his breathing stagger, his blood running hot.
“I am, I'm sick,” he murmurs.
Abed smiles a pretty smile, self-satisfied and smug. He slicks his fingers with the bottle he placed on the nightstand. Then he presses in.
“How often have you thought of this?" he whispers, "Did you want me to fuck you back in season 3? Season 2?”
Troy lifts his legs, allowing for more movement. Abed's fingers feel so good, inside of him and around his neck.
“Yes," he breathes. His voice trembles, high in his throat, and it should really be embarrassing.
“Does this feel good?” Abed asks, picking up a steady rhythm.
“It feels- God, keep- keep going. I want-”
“What do you want?”
He adds his middle finger, scissoring him open. But Troy wants more, he wants-
“I want you. Inside. I need you.”
Abed's breath hitches a little. His movements still for just a moment, which is how Troy knows he's not as unaffected as he's pretending to be. That's very attractive too- his facade fading.
“You need me?" he hums, in amazement, adding another finger. "Do you know how pathetic you sound right now?”
“I know,” Troy whines, backing into the mattress. He might not last long. He's already pathetically leaking precum, like an unexperienced loser. He hopes Abed isn't judging him too much, with all his expertise.
Abed retracts then, slowly, taking his fingers out and loosening his grip on Troy's neck. His expression turns more serious.
“Okay Troy, I’m going to enter you now but I need you to tell me when it hurts," he insists. "You’re doing really good. I’m being mean because you want me to be, but I feel like I need to inform you that you’re doing good. You know that right?”
There's a recognisable shine to his face. This is the Abed Troy knows, his demeanor so caring and amicable. It's good to feel that spark of familiarity. Troy feels safe, and despite his nervousness, his chest pounds with excitement at the prospect of having sex with Abed.
“Yeah," he smiles with his teeth, "You’re making me feel like- like really amazing. Like, crazy in a good way.”
Abed smiles back at him, takes a second to lightly pat the side of Troy's face. "I’m glad. Okay. Tell me if I should stop. Remember to use your words.”
“Okay."
And then he's peeling his shirt off, shrugging down his jeans, his boxers, and rolling on a condom, and Troy barely gets to look at him before he's scooting closer, his wonderful hands lifting Troy's legs in order to push in. Lining up, he catches his eyes, once, and Troy nods to let him know that he wants this still. Abed nods back, all business-like.
Then Troy just feels burning, in the best possible way. A warm, hot pain, an exploding sensation that travels through his entire body. He can't even stop himself from whimpering like a pathetic mess. Abed moves, and Troy bites hard on his lip to keep down the volume, if just a little. But it's barely any use.
“You’re so loud. No one has ever fucked you like this, am I right?”
He is right, and he knows it.
“Not- not like this," Troy mumbles, "Not like you.”
Abed leans in further, his dark eyes hypnotizing Troy. He can't look away. Abed's hand comes up to his throat again. He's good at this- choking. He's probably- scratch that- definitely experienced. He must be, like he is with all other things.
“Good," he says, "You’re mine to fuck now, Troy, okay?”
Holy fuck, Troy's brain thinks, holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck.
“Yeah,” he manages. Even if Abed is just saying this for the sake of dirty talk, the thought is too exhilarating.
Abed leans down, getting so close that Troy can feel him breathe. Against his ear, he whispers-
“Tell me."
Troy can barely speak anymore, the pressure on his throat becoming so intense that he's overwhelmed with pleasure.
“I’m yours to fuck," he stumbles over his words, out of breath, "God, Abed- you can- you can do whatever you want to me. You can just- I’m yours to use. You can do anything to me. Please just-”
“Okay,” Abed stops him, his voice harsh, “okay, shut up Troy. Shut up. I’ll finish if you keep talking.”
“I’m sorry,” Troy whimpers, “can you- can you-”
“What?”
“Can you fuck me harder?”
Abed halts a little. Troy really wishes he could kiss him, right where his lips part to breathe, against his the delicate skin of his jaw, down to his collarbones. He wants him so badly, it hurts in his soul. But he can barely think about it when he's as lightheaded as he is.
“Beg again,” Abed commands, voice low.
Troy surpresses a moan. He breathes in deeply.
“Please Abed. Please fuck me harder. I need it so badly. Please make it hurt,” he says in a string of nearly incoherent words.
He watches Abed's eyes light up in that delicious way, and he feels proud. He had no idea that seeing the effect he has on Abed would make him feel so extremely delighted.
But instead of delivering upon Troy's request, Abed moves back, pulling out. He drops Troy's legs, takes back his hand entirely, and Troy blinks, all confused. He scrambles to sit up against the headboard.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks. He hates how small his voice sounds.
Abed smiles warmly, like he thinks Troy is a little bit of an idiot for asking.
“No," he says, deadpan, "Get on your hands and knees.”
“Oh,” Troy stammers, “yeah. Yeah, okay. Cool. Awesome.”
He does as he's told, feeling like he might very well just faint. Abed wastes no time either, grabbing his hips and pressing in again. Troy's knees buckle a little. This feels more intense, deeper. He breathes a really big breath.
"Are you okay?" Abed whispers.
"Yeah," Troy says through his teeth. "Can you- can you just- throat, again. Please?"
Abed obliges.
“I knew you’d like this, you know," he says, leaning down, fingers tightening around Troy's neck. "I tracked your responses. And I'm 89% percent sure you knew that I knew, and you liked that too.”
“Yeah,” is the only thing Troy can say.
The way Abed is holding him, both his hands encasing his throat, pushing his face down into the mattress, fucking him from behind without Troy even being able to see him, just his voice to guide him along-
It's too much.
He feels the tears well up in his eyes. There's no way to hide it from Abed either. So much shame and pleasure is coarsing through his veins, all at once, and that makes Troy cry even more.
“Are you crying?" Abed asks. His inflection doesn't change, but Troy knows he's in mild disbelief. "Troy, are you really crying?" he presses now, "Does it feel that good or are you just that much of a mess?”
His hands gently push Troy into the bed, even more so. Troy can barely breathe. His dick hurts from all the building tension, and his knees shake with it.
“Abed, I’m-” he trembles.
“You can come," Abed says. His voice sounds a touch softer now, through heavy breathing. He's clearly exhausted as Troy is. "It’s okay. I’m going to finish too," he confirms.
That thought is really exciting. One more thrust and Troy is there, the heat while-coiling in his abdomen, and he's falling against the mattress, his body tensing up and then going nearly completely limp. Abed is there not soon after, keeping himself upright but stilling in movement entirely. He doesn't make a sound. It's just his breathing that halts.
Then he's pulling out, his body slumping against the bedsheets, all crumpled up. He looks at Troy, and Troy finds that he's still crying, the aftermath of this whole experience washing over him like a heavy wave. He wipes his face desperately, hiding in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.
He's not completely sure what he's apologizing for. Clearly Abed liked this as much as he did. Maybe it's just the lingering shame of giving up control like he did, of exposing himself all vulnerably. And maybe it's also the fact that, despite all this, there's still a sense of want in his heart. Troy wants Abed, and not just in this way.
In all the ways. It's become abundantly clear to him.
“Come here Troy,” Abed says, tenderly prying his hands from his face.
Then he does exactly what Troy was dreaming of. He kisses him, pulling him in by the back of his head. And Troy is still crying, his cheeks fully wettened, his face slick with sweat. But it doesn't matter.
Abed kisses him with fervor. Teeth and tongue and all, like he can't stand to be away from Troy for even a second, to pull back and take a second to breathe.
His lips are so soft and his mouth is warm and it feels so good, to be kissed to lovingly after having been treated so roughly. Abed knows exactly how to treat him well, and Troy wants to cry even more because of it.
He bites down on Abed's lower lip, licks into him, then moves down, down to his cheek. He bites lightly into his cheekbone, because he wants to. He's always thought Abed had the best, most delicious looking cheekbones. Then he kisses his neck, his shoulders, his mouth again. He never wants to stop.
But Abed pulls back eventually.
“Do you feel okay?” he asks Troy, his eyes concerned. His fingers ghost lightly over the stretch of skin of his neck that had been subjected to choking all this time. Then he kisses there, and then Troy's forehead.
“Yeah, holy fuck," Troy sighs. "Was that good? I mean-”
Abed nods insistently.
“That was highly enjoyable. Probably the best sexual experience I have ever had.”
For some reason, that catches Troy off-guard. All this time, he'd been thinking that this was more in his favor than Abed's. Apparently that wasn't the case. He grins happily.
“What- really?”
“Yes Troy.”
“Oh, that’s- that’s awesome.”
It is awesome. It is so, so, so awesome, Troy can't even find the words to describe what he's feeling right now. Love, is his best guess. He feels love. He should probably at least attempt to verbalize that feeling.
“Wait but Abed, I need to, uhm. I need to tell you something?”
Abed raises an eyebrow.
“Are you going to tell me that you like me romantically?”
“Yeah. Wait- how do you know?”
He smiles carefully against the pillowcase, his dark hair splayed along the surface.
“All the signs point to it," he shrugs, "Besides, you are not the type of person to hook up with someone without having at least a crush on them.”
That's true, Troy ponders. He feels a little stupid- a familiar feeling for him.
“You don’t mind?” he blinks.
Abed smiles again. He's so gorgeous like this, in all his post-sex glory. Troy feels warm inside.
“No, especially not because I like you too," he says then. "In fact, I’m in love with you. I have been for a while. Probably since the second season, the sixth episode? I'm pretty sure it clicked for me that night we got roofied.”
What the hell, Troy thinks.
“What the hell?” he says.
During all his time pining for Abed, he'd never seriously considered that Abed might have been crushing on him all along. Why should he? Abed was far too awesome for him. But apparently, Troy is more lucky than he thought. There's a glow in his chest, and he feels the weird need to run laps around the room like a crazy person.
“Sorry,” Abed says dryly.
He fiddles with Troy's hands under the covers, turning them over in his own. It's cute, how shy he is now, considering he was the fucking master of dirty talk just a while ago. Troy laughs.
“No, don’t be sorry Abed, just- woah, okay, my brain is all wrinkled right now. Can I just kiss you again?”
“Yes, you can.”
So Troy kisses him, and Abed falls into the kiss, and then it's like they melt together. They could spend the rest of their lives like this, hands perpetually reaching for one another, pulling and tugging and grasping for that closeness, in Abed's room full of posters and colorful walls and warmth and happiness and good feelings and love.
Troy wouldn't mind at all.