Chapter Text
Moving in with his fuck buddy was supposed to be cool.
It was supposed to be really extremely cool, super insanely chill, fucking extraordinarily ice cold, because he’s Troy Barnes and he’s never been anything besides awesome for a day in his life. He’s always been good looking and charismatic and popular. He’s maintained his quarterback-prom-king swagger for years since graduating high school. It keeps stuff copacetic—one might go so far as to say easy-breezy. Unfailingly, for the better part of three decades, simply Being Troy Barnes has been enough cause for things to just sort of work themselves out for him. His life is pretty great that way.
Or, it was.
He wasn’t expecting Abed Nadir, of all people, to fuck it up for him.
Why would he, though? When Troy had first moved out to LA, wanting nothing more than a good, regular, no-strings-attached fuck, Abed had been the perfect get. He was a nice guy, if a little quirky, great in bed, and way too busy busting his ass trying to make something of himself in Hollywood to want any sort of a serious relationship. Plus, Troy had only needed to sift through Grindr for an hour or so to find him. They’d come up with a practical arrangement before they’d even met face to face: no dates, no feelings, no cuddles, no sleepovers. Just good sex and sometimes a couple drinks and maybe the occasional sexy joint shower—to conserve water, obviously. Why else?
Pretty lucky all around.
Even luckier, about a year into their setup, Troy’s roommate had announced he’d have to leave the city indefinitely, to tend to some family crisis back home in the midwest. Obviously that wasn’t the lucky part. Rather, Troy’s little subletting predicament just happened to coincide with the month that Abed’s building was being bought out by some sleazy private equity firm, and Abed had been in LA long enough to know that that’s rarely good news, and he’d wanted out. Preferably as soon as possible.
So.
Troy needed a roommate.
And Abed needed a place.
How goddamn serendipitous.
That had been Troy’s line of thinking, anyway. Abed had seemed like a safer bet than another Craigslist roommate, he figured his lucky streak with those could only last so long and he was already pushing it. They got along, he knew Abed was a good guy, and—this had been the exciting part of the proposition for him—it would mean a much shorter booty call commute. Practically on-demand access to what was, as far as Troy was concerned, the best sex he’d ever had in his life. He didn’t see how it could fail.
Abed, apparently, did.
He’d been more skeptical about Troy’s offer. He’d said something about how living together would inevitably change their dynamic, compromise the good thing they had going. He’d even started talking about how it was some kind of trope—god, always with the tropes, Troy didn’t even know what that meant —and he’d just seemed all around… less enthused, which had been a bummer.
Or it would’ve been, if Abed wasn’t such a sucker for his mouth.
A couple extremely convincing blowjobs later, Troy had gained himself a new roommate, and everything was just grand. It’d been easy to feel optimistic that very first night, fucking on the kitchen counter to get themselves good and tired, then heading off to comfortably settle down in separate bedrooms with a fist bump and a see you tomorrow.
He’d slept like a baby that night. A big, dumb, clueless idiot baby with no idea of what he’d gotten himself into. He certainly would’ve lost sleep had he known, but of course he didn’t know. It was just himself and Abed that he was dealing with, and that had always been easy.
So what could possibly go wrong?
***
Everything, Troy thinks miserably now, forehead resting against the tile of the shower, everything could possibly go wrong.
He closes his eyes and turns, hanging his head so the hot water beats soothingly over the back of his neck. Maybe that can help ease the headache caused by all the mindfuckery he’s been dealing with as of late.
“Troy?” He hears a muffled call from the other side of the bathroom door, and he opens his eyes in alarm. Abed’s home already? Crap, how long has he been melodramatically sulking in the shower? He heaves out a sigh, scrubs his hands over his face and tips his head back into the water as he listens to familiar footsteps coming his way. The bathroom door opens, and he puts his game face on.
It’s a little ridiculous, the fact that he peeks just his head out from behind the shower curtain when he knows Abed’s got every inch of his naked body memorized like it’s Die Hard. But, that’s what he does. It’s an apartment ground rule: outside explicitly-stated sexual encounters, they treat each other just like normal roommates. Especially on the privacy front. And that’s good, Troy likes (needs) to reiterate frequently. Privacy is important. A basic human right, in fact. Even if he really wouldn’t mind Abed just wordlessly stripping down and joining him in here, pressing him back against the wall, grabbing his ass, kissing on his neck—
Not now, he reminds himself before he can do something embarrassing, like start tenting the shower curtain.
“Hey, buddy,” Troy nods to him and hopes that none of what he was just imagining shows up on his face. “What’s up? You’re home early.”
Abed looks confused for a second. “No, I’m not. It’s almost 9:30.”
Alright, he’s been doing this shower crisis thing for way too long, then. Fortunately Abed doesn’t dwell on it.
“Anyway,” he says, getting straight to his reason for interrupting Troy’s very nonsexual, nonerotic, non-boner-inducing shower. “Have you eaten? I’m guessing no, since you didn’t even know what time it was. I’m gonna order pizza, you want the usual?”
Troy pretends to think about it.
“The usual” is a large stuffed-crust meat-lover’s pizza, boneless buffalo wings with an extra side of ranch, garlic-parm breadsticks, and a 2-liter bottle of Sprite. Abed knows this, that’s why he says the usual instead of… all that. Because that just makes sense. And something that just makes sense shouldn’t make him so warm inside. Shouldn’t make him smile like a dork who quickly has to school his expression into something decidedly less smitten than what he’s actually feeling.
And yet.
“Yeah, cool. Thanks,” Troy agrees, and smiles a very normal smile.
Abed nods, shoots him a finger gun and ducks back out of the room. As soon as he’s gone, Troy leans sadly back against the shower wall.
So Abed was right, of course Abed was right. Troy knows by now that Abed is almost always right, but he didn’t know it back then, and so he kicks his past self for being such a dumbass.
Thinking that him and Abed living together wouldn’t change anything. What a joke.
It changes everything.
Because living with Abed means movie marathons and video game nights. Living with Abed means shared takeout orders and pulling pranks on their neighbors. It means seeing Abed shuffle into the kitchen all tired and sleep-soft in the morning. It means hearing him speak soothingly on the phone to his little brother in Polish. It means seeing him on his bad days, at his most vulnerable.
It means he got to be the guy that encouraged Abed to bring some ideas to his showrunner back when he was only a PA, and he was the one who got to celebrate with him when he got hired as a writer. It means Abed knows about all his embarrassing fears, his crippling insecurities, the extremely tenuous grasp he has on his masculinity and sexual orientation, and never makes him feel small over any of it. It means… ugh.
It means they’re not fuck buddies anymore.
They’re friends with benefits.
Best friends with benefits.
Best friends with the best benefits.
And Troy isn’t cut out for that. His entire life he’s hoped to be lucky enough to fall in love with his best friend someday, and now that he’s gone and done that, it’s all wrong, because his best friend doesn’t love him back. At least not like that. Abed has rules for them, parameters he has to follow, and Troy can’t be the one to ruin that for him. Trying to turn their relationship into anything more could ruin their friendship, and Abed’s told him—outright told him— how much it means to him that they’re friends. He’d be devastated. And losing Abed as a friend, plus the crushing guilt of knowing he’d hurt him?
Troy would fucking die.
He tries not to let all these anxieties swarm him as he heads out to the living room after toweling off and throwing on a pair of sweatpants. He doesn’t bother with a shirt—if the night goes how he hopes it will, clothes in general are kind of a pointless endeavor.
Abed’s sprawled out on their oversized sectional, entirely focused on whatever’s playing on the TV until he hears Troy coming up behind him. Then he rolls his head back along the top of the backrest and does one of those special Abed smiles, the ones that only show in his eyes. Troy’s heart skips.
“Hey,” Abed says as he plops down next to him. “Food should be here in like, 30 minutes. Wanna watch Cougar Town?”
Troy sighs out a small hum, mostly noncommittal but with just enough tone to grab Abed’s attention. Troy’s bedroom eyes are on as soon as he looks over.
“I guess we could,” he shrugs, stretching one leg out and poking Abed’s thigh with his foot. There’s a spark of recognition in Abed’s expression—he knows this game. “Or we could do something a little more… active. Burn off some of those calories we’re about to inhale.”
“You want sex?” Abed asks, dropping all pretense. God, it’s so hot when he gets straight to the point like that. And Abed’s looking at him lustily, pupils dark and dilated, cheeks flushed. He wants it, too.
Troy neglects to say anything back, instead crawling over to his side of the couch and straddling his lap. One hand goes to Abed’s chest, flat and toned and warmly fluttering with his heartbeat. The other cards through his hair—dark, disheveled curls, the longest Abed’s grown them out in a while. Troy hopes to hell he won’t cut it any time soon. He loves how it feels in between his fingers, the way Abed leans into his touch, the low groan rumbling in his throat when Troy grabs a handful at the back of his head and tugs. He cuts the sound off by pressing their mouths together.
He doesn’t build up to anything, he’s all teeth and tongue and grabby hands right away. Abed follows his lead, hands ghosting over his waist before settling firmly on his hips and bringing him forward. Troy’s half hard in his sweatpants already and he’s not even embarrassed—the noise Abed makes when he rolls his hips down is one of clear enthusiasm.
“Cool,” Abed nods a little when they break apart. “Cool cool cool, come here.”
He pulls him back in, caution to the wind now that they’ve established suitably enthusiastic consent. His kisses are hot, sloppy in the most deliberate way possible which is something only Abed can seem to pull off, and Troy is already dipping into that needy, submissive headspace Abed always seems to put him in. His hips seem to be rocking of their own accord, without him even thinking, although it’s not long before Abed jumps in to help, his hands tight and possessive on Troy’s waist as he tugs him in and pushes him back.
“Mmh, bed?” Troy manages between kisses, like it matters. They’ve fucked on every viable surface in this apartment, not to mention a couple that they’d found out the hard way were extremely not viable (rest in peace, coffee table.) Still, beds are more comfortable, and Abed seems to agree. His mouth is too busy going to town on Troy’s neck to say so, but he does nod, sucking harder on the delicate skin before breaking off with a heavy breath.
“Sure, yours or mine?”
“I think the lube is still in your room.”
“I think you’re right.”
It takes everything in him not to whine in disappointment when Abed gently pats his ass, a signal for him to stand up instead of Abed just carrying him. Sure, Abed’s had a long day, his job isn’t easy, but Troy’s been spoiled by this point.
(Another reason that catching feelings for Abed was a shitty idea. He’s ruined for all other men now. After Abed, the only way to trade is down.)
He must linger for a second too long, because Abed raises an eyebrow in what looks to be amusement.
“You wanna be carried, don’t you,” he deadpans.
Troy grins a little. “I don’t not want to be carried.”
Without a word, Abed shoves both of his hands under Troy’s thighs, stands up from the couch, and carries him swiftly down the hall towards his bedroom.
Troy kisses his neck and keeps himself tucked right there, if only to conceal the fond smile he can’t keep off his lips.
***
It goes something like this:
Abed’s quick to get them to his bedroom, nudging the door open with his hip and tossing Troy square into the center of the bed. He laughs, mostly in surprise as he bounces there, just a couple times before Abed joins him. He’s pretty sure Abed sucks no less than three hickeys into his neck as they hastily fumble each other out of their clothes, a mutual sigh of relief escaping once there’s nothing left in between them.
Some other, less important stuff happens, and then Abed’s dick is in his mouth. Now that’s something that makes the highlight reel.
Abed’s an almost unreasonably selfless lover, so Troy had to beg for this. He had been taking advantage of Troy’s recent very thorough shower, eating him out like his ass was a bowl of all-marshmallow Lucky Charms, until he was kicking and squirming and dangerously close to getting off just from humping Abed’s poor mattress. That’s when he’d finally relented and let Troy roll onto his back, positioned his knees on either side of his head, and fed his cock past Troy’s eager, wanting lips.
There are many benefits to this position, the efficiency aspect being not-insignificant. Troy gives good blowjobs, he knows this about himself, it’s just that Abed’s so fucking hung that giving him head in the more traditional kneeling position results in a lot more gagging and choking than strictly necessary. This position opens up his throat, gives Abed the space he needs to really use his mouth the way he deserves.
“Your mouth’s so fucking good, Troy, holy shit—”
Abed’s voice is somehow breathy and rough at the same time, and he cuts his own sentence off with a moan as Troy hollows his cheeks right when Abed’s hips rock forward again. That catches Abed a little off-guard, his hands gripping the pillow on either side of Troy’s head to steady himself, and Troy just sucks him like he can’t get enough.
Because he can’t—get enough, that is. Giving himself up to Abed like this is addictive. Laid out on his back with his legs spread, his own dick hard and leaking onto his stomach, his hole all wet and stretched from Abed’s prior ministrations, and moaning like a slut while Abed fucks his face. He’s even trying to be nice about it, which is kind of hilarious, one of his hands sliding around to cradle the back of Troy’s head, but he doesn’t need that shit tonight.
He does his best to convey that with a small groan of frustration, both of his hands reaching up and grabbing onto Abed’s hips to tug him forward. That does the trick, forcing Abed to brace himself on both hands again. With his eyes fluttered half-closed, tears slipping out the corners, drool leaking down his chin with every new thrust, Troy hums his approval.
“I just don’t wanna suffocate you,” Abed explains while he can still manage, which Troy would laugh about if he had the breath for it. There’s no stopping that, he thinks, unless you want to look into reduction surgery, except please do not fucking do that, I’m really not above crying at the thought of you purposely making your dick smaller after you singlehandedly turned me into a size queen, I mean I know you’re into cinematic irony but that’s just cruel—
He can’t convey all these thoughts to Abed with a bunch of stifled little moans, so he doesn’t try to. Instead he just groans deep in his throat and tugs Abed’s hips forward again, roughly, hoping he gets the idea.
He thinks he hears Abed whisper something along the lines of fuck, if you say so, and then he’s leaning a little further forward, gripping the pillow tighter, and finally fucking Troy’s mouth in earnest.
It’s a beautiful thing. His jaw aches and so does his throat, both of them only getting sorer each time Abed shoves his cock back in with the same amount of force and enthusiasm he uses fucking Troy’s ass. He’s a whining mess of spit and tears as he lets himself be used and lets himself enjoy it with no shame—just getting his throat fucking railed while he sloppily jerks himself off with one hand. He’s not even sure when he started doing that, but fuck if he’s gonna stop now, he’s close. Abed’s breath is coming in short little gasps, balls slapping against Troy’s chin with every thrust. Just a couple more strokes—one, two, and then Troy’s choking out a moan around Abed’s dick, his neglected hole clenching around nothing as he spills over his fist and onto his stomach.
He closes his eyes to ride it out, his brain foggy, heat sparking in the pit of his belly. He gets so into it that he doesn’t even notice Abed slipping out of his mouth, dismounting his face to settle on the side of him instead, until he has the sense to open his eyes again and see Abed staring at him. He’s very quick to notice, however, that Abed’s still hard, he hasn’t gotten off yet.
“You’re not done,” Troy mumbles, “Come back and finish.” He’s still all floaty and fuzzy as he wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand and draws his knees up to his chest.
“Troy,” Abed huffs out a laugh when he sees what he’s being offered. “It’s okay. You’ve done… more than enough.”
Troy just frowns a little, though. He doesn’t have it in him to argue, exactly, so he just shoots Abed a pointed look and spreads his legs further apart.
“Seriously, I can finish off in the shower later. You’re all overstimulated already, I don’t want to hurt you or—”
“You won’t,” Troy cuts him off, and god, he sounds absolutely wrecked right now. “I promise, Abed, please, please fuck me, I want it.”
In the back of his mind, Troy doesn’t know exactly what’s gotten into him tonight. Sure, he had that emotionally tumultuous shower earlier, but this crush on Abed has been building for a while, it’s not like the feelings are new. Maybe the desperation was just bound to hit the point of no return sooner or later, maybe tonight’s the boiling point. All he knows is he’s extremely needy now. He’s consumed with it. He wants Abed close again, wants him inside, wants those lips on his neck and the sound of his own name ghosting over the shell of his ear between moans and praise. His name has never sounded so sweet on anyone else’s lips, not even close.
The way he looks at Abed must convey at least some of that, to some extent, because Abed’s pretty quick to swoop back in. Troy bites back the impatient groans bubbling in his chest while Abed takes a second to position them, make sure they’re both good and lubed before pushing inside.
“Fuck, yeah,” Troy sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut as he tips his head back slightly. Doesn’t matter how many times they do this, the feeling of Abed stretching him open on his cock never fails to overwhelm him. Especially now, a little too sensitive from cumming just moments before, but it’s good. He drapes his arms around Abed’s shoulders as he settles over him, shivers a little when he mouths at his throat.
“‘m pretty close already,” Abed whispers. He gets right to fucking him in long, steady strokes—not too rough, but not over-easy. He always seems to know exactly what Troy needs on that front. “Was so close to cumming in your mouth, that was unreal, getting to fuck you like that. So hot.”
Troy refrains from whimpering at the praise, focusing instead on his breathing and keeping cool. He doesn’t know what the hell happened to his refractory period but he can feel his dick twitching in interest, even if he’s not getting hard yet. Abed picks up the pace a little and it makes him gasp, digging his nails into Abed’s back.
“You’re fucking hot like this, too, don’t get me wrong,” Abed continues. “Letting me just use you, even though you already got what you needed. So cool of you. Seriously, your ass is the best, you’re so good at taking dick, you know? I hope you know that. You’re such a good lay.”
Ugh, more praise, more brain fog. He knows he’s at least half-hard again, doesn’t know if Abed’s noticed, but he’s really starting to lose his grip a little.
“Holy shit, Abed,” he notices his breaths are a little sharper now, which he might have the decency to feel embarrassed about if he wasn’t in this position. “You’re gonna— I can’t— gonna make me cum again, fuck.”
He’s gone from half-hard to almost-fully-hard again pretty fast, not that he’s exactly complaining. Abed just sighs a small, satisfied hum and picks up the pace a little. Then he shifts, tilting his hips slightly, and— oh. Oh, fuck, that’s perfect, that’s dead-on, that’s exactly where Abed needs to be. He tries to tell him that, but it comes out more like a string of broken, incoherent moans and pleas.
Close enough.
He’s just on the edge now, flushed with this full-body electric heat. He closes his eyes and it’s like nothing else exists, it’s just him and Abed, in perfect sync like always. Without even thinking he threads his fingers into Abed’s hair, tugs him up to eye level, and kisses him.
Abed stiffens for just a split second in surprise before kissing him back, which Troy accepts with a wash of relief.
Look, he’s not breaking any rules. They’ve kissed plenty of times, there’s nothing in their agreement against it, that would be stupid. It’s just that it’s usually more of a foreplay thing, deliberate and purposeful, something to get them to where they are now. It’s not usually like this—tender, aimless, sweet, a stark contrast to how hard Abed’s still fucking him. There’s an emotional intimacy about it that shouldn’t be there, that does kind of break the rules.
He can’t be completely sure, but he thinks he hears Abed’s breath hitch a little bit, a small desperate noise in the back of his throat when he breaks for air, only to dive right back down and capture his lips again. Troy finds his release for the second time a couple seconds after, biting back noises of pain and pleasure as Abed carefully strokes him through it. They’re still attached at the lips when Abed cums inside him shortly after. Troy squirms and gasps a little underneath him at the sensation—familiar, yet absurdly hot—but doesn’t dare to pull back completely. Abed’s hips roll forward a few more times as he rides it out, the motions small and slow, almost like an afterthought, before he stills completely.
Still kissing. Troy isn’t gonna be the one to break it. Even when Abed lifts his hips up and back to pull out, he settles right back down, balanced on his forearms while Troy’s arms encircle his shoulders. Now there’s really no excuse for them to be doing this, the sex part is officially done, they’ve both gotten off, but… maybe they can just keep doing this. Maybe they can just keep kissing, and as long as they’re kissing they don’t have to talk about why, and everything will be good forever, and Troy never has to admit to feeling anything besides horny. Yes, that’s reasonable. This will work out fine.
It does not work out fine.
He’s not sure how long they’ve been laying there, just kissing and kissing and kissing like a couple lovestruck teenagers, but it’s long enough that the sound of their buzzer practically makes him jump out of his skin. His heart pounds uncomfortably as his eyes fly open, the room tilting and spinning a little with his sudden jolt back to full consciousness. Abed, still on top of him, looks just as startled.
“Um,” Abed croaks after their silence stretches just a beat too long. Troy watches intently as he touches the tips of his fingers to his spit-slick, kiss-swollen lips, before seemingly shaking himself out of it and pulling back. He keeps watching him as he hastily feels around for some clothes to throw on. He ends up in his own t-shirt and Troy’s boxers.
“Uh, that’s the pizza. I’ll go get it.”
And then Troy’s just alone in the room, naked and sweaty and suddenly extremely aware of the sex-mess smeared all over his stomach. He feels… cold. From his spot on the bed, he can vaguely make out the sound of Abed exchanging pleasantries with the delivery guy. He’s just down the hall, but he feels a million miles away. Troy scrubs his hands over his face and tries not to think about the undeniable shift he can feel between them now.
He doesn’t rush to clean himself up and get dressed again, but he’s not stalling—is what he tells himself as he’s tying the drawstring on his sweatpants into a careful bow, something he’s literally never bothered to do before. Eventually he can’t ignore the fact that Abed must have their food all set out by now, and keeping him waiting any longer will only seem suspicious.
He takes a deep, steadying breath before heading out to the living room.