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Friendship with benefits was great in theory, but Trott was honestly beginning to wonder if the whole idea was more trouble than it was worth.
The unspoken rules that usually came with such relationships were the problem, really. Namely that he and his flatmates were so damn terrible at following them. Everyone seemed to have their own ‘house rules’ when it came to no strings attached sex, but there were a few that just about everyone seemed to insist upon, and Trott was fairly sure that he, Ross and Smith had broken every single one of them.
Three’s a Crowd
This one did make sense; this kind of relationship was already complicated, and adding more people to the mix would obviously make it more complicated. Well, that had been the first one to go right the fuck out the window. It sort of came with the territory of deciding that the best way to step over that boundary from platonic friendship to a sexual relationship was via a ménage à trois. Granted, that first time had been less a conscious decision on anyone’s part and more of a drunken accident, but sobriety hadn’t exactly brought regret with it, and once that line had been crossed once, it was infinitely easier to cross it again and again.
Don’t Spend Too Much Time Together
To say that they had failed at following this particular rule would be the understatement of the century. It would be far easier to list the activities that they did apart than those that they did together, and the former could probably be counted on one hand.
Stay Away from Workmates/Flatmates
This one was kind of a double whammy, owing to the fact that they both worked and lived together. The logical extension of the fact that they already spent far too much time together. Honestly, though, these two rules seemed a bit silly. It was just convenient that they were always together, after all. Easy access and all that.
Don’t Get Jealous
Relationships never seemed to last long for any of them, and the other two were almost always completely to blame. While not one of them had ever truly admitted to getting jealous about other conquests, the fact that they had, on more than one occasion, actively sabotaged relationships before they could really get anywhere might have indicated that there was a little bit of jealousy going on. Just possibly.
No Cuddles!
Experts in the field of Friendship with Benefits (Those existed, right? Trott was pretty sure they existed. Every field had experts.) seemed to think that physical affection that wasn’t also sexual was an absolute no no, but when one of your buddies in intimacy was Smith, this was pretty much impossible to avoid, and honestly, Trott was just fine with that. Smith was just tactile as fuck in general, and Trott and Ross had both been dragged to bed with him many a time well before either of them had actually gone to bed with him. The oft cited reason for this was that cuddling could lead to feelings, but it was a bit late for that. Which was related to the final rule; to some, the only one that truly mattered.
Do Not, Under Any Circumstances, Allow Romantic Feelings to Develop. Ever.
This was, really, the only rule of any importance, mostly because it was literally impossible to call a relationship casual if there were feelings beyond friendship and sexual attraction involved. Unfortunately, this particular rule was the one that Trott now found himself breaking.
It had been a boring day, for the most part, and Smith was doing what he usually did when he was bored. Namely paying attention to the film they had decided to watch for perhaps thirty seconds before attempting to shift to an activity that he found more… stimulating. Trott couldn’t entirely blame him. They had, after all, picked Alien of all things, and between young Sigourney Weaver and the general Freudian imagery, it wasn’t really that hard to see where a bit of arousal might have come from. A bit kinky, perhaps, but understandable. Ross, who was the current subject of Smith’s attentions, didn’t really seem to agree. At first he just ignored the hand on his knee, and only frowned slightly when his rather handsy friend started to tug at his shirt while pressing kisses against his neck. It was obvious, though, from the grimace that crossed his face when a hand actually slipped up under his shirt that he wasn’t having any of this right then.
“Christ, not right now! Your hands are like ice! Shove off!” He grumbled, wriggling free of Smith’s grasp and moving to sit on the recliner rather than staying on the sofa with the other two. Trott sighed. Ross had been the first choice, but he knew exactly what would happen now that Smith’s advances had been shot down. Namely that Smith would turn to him instead, a bit of a smirk on his face. Trott groaned inwardly at the way his heart began to pound harder in his chest at being on the receiving end of that look. A smirk from your mate shouldn’t do that, even if you did mess around with said mate on a frequent basis.
“...I suggested this film because I wanted to watch it, Smith, can this wait till-” The taller man promptly shut him up by smashing their lips together before Trott could protest further, moving to straddle his lap as he did so, and effectively blocking the television from view. For a time, Trott relented, kissing him back and moving a hand up his thigh to grasp his hip, but after a minute or so he pulled back, breathing a bit hard. “-Can this wait until after the f- film?” Trott’s breath caught in his throat as Smith instead kissed his way down to suck hard at the skin where his shoulder and neck met. Trott had never really seen the appeal of hickeys, but Smith had a possessive streak about a mile wide, and they had proven to be something of an acquired taste. Biting, meanwhile, he didn’t think he would ever learn to like, and he expressed his distaste with a bit of a yelp when Smith saw fit to make use of his teeth.
“Fuck! You goddamn bastard, do you always have to fucking do that?” He questioned, bringing a hand to Smith’s chest to shove him back.
“Sorry, mate.” Smith responded, not very genuinely. He leaned in again, this time to run his tongue gently over the still quite painful mark that he had just left behind, and Trott found himself relaxing once again with a heavy sigh, tipping his head to the side in order to allow access to more of his neck. Smith moved a hand up his under his shirt, and Trott breathed in sharply when his hand touched his stomach.
“Jesus, Ross wasn’t fucking kidding! What did you do, soak your hands in ice water?” He questioned, although this time, he didn’t try to shove him away again. Smith chuckled slightly, nuzzling at his throat for a moment before pulling back as he went ahead and just tugged Trott’s shirt up and off.
“Yeah, sure, I fondled a few ice cubes in preparation for fondling you. Why, don’t you like it?” He asked, laughing again and kissing his way down to suck another mark on Trott’s collarbone. Trott might have protested again, but then Smith took things a step further by grinding his hips down against Trott’s, and suddenly any thoughts of stopping this before it went any further fled Trott’s mind. He took hold of the hair at the back of Smith’s head and redirected his face upwards so he could kiss him again. The kiss was a bit less coordinated than it could have been, with more teeth involved than was strictly necessary, but it certainly didn’t lack in enthusiasm.
“Do you two have to fuck on the sofa? There’s bedrooms you could be defiling.” Ross commented from his seat a few feet away, not even glancing away from the television as he spoke. The two of them pulled apart, chuckling, as Smith turned to look at him.
“You’re just jealous because you missed your chance to be involved, mate. Can’t change your mind now, you aren’t invited anymore.” He teased, sticking his tongue out at Ross as he reached down to fiddle with the button on Trott’s trousers, eventually managing to undo it and moving on to the zipper. Trott decided that he was far too swiftly winning the nakedness contest and shoved Smith’s hands aside before moving to push up his shirt.
“He’s right, Ross. If anyone should vacate the premises in this situation, it’s you.” He murmured fairly, struggling a bit with Smith’s shirt before the taller man took pity on him and just shrugged it off himself.
“I don’t really care if he chooses to skewer your ass directly in front of me, Trott. I’m not moving.” Ross replied matter-of-factly, although he did reach for the remote in order to turn up the volume on the television quite a bit. Smith leaned in close to Trott to whisper in his ear, even as he hooked a finger under the waistband of his pants.
“We’ll just have to be louder than that if we want to piss him off, yeah?”
Trott laughed in response to this, although the sound turned into a surprised gasp as Smith seemed to grow impatient and simply tugged both trousers and pants down to Trott’s knees before standing up to undo his own button and zipper while Trott rather majestically struggled to kick the last of his clothing off. He finally succeeded mere seconds before Smith straddled him once again, rather disappointingly still wearing his boxers. The fucking tease.
“Why am I the only one who’s naked?” He complained, glaring up at Smith with his very best ‘I am fucking perturbed’ expression.
“Because I decided you should be, and I’m the one in charge here, you little twat.” Smith replied in a conversational tone, flashing that fucking grin of his that definitely wasn’t helping Trott with the whole ‘let’s not get romantic feelings’ fiasco.
“Fuck you.”
“That’s not how this works, Trotsky, and you and I both know it.”
Smith was looking just a bit too snide, and Trott decided to correct that by reaching down to cup a hand around the rather pronounced bulge in his mate’s boxers before giving a squeeze just short of hard enough to be painful. This immediately wiped the snide grin off Smith’s face as he groaned and pitched forward slightly to rest his forehead against Trott’s.
“Fuck, mate.” He mumbled eloquently, and now it was Trott’s turn to smirk.
“I thought I wasn’t meant to be the one doing the fucking, hm?” He asked dryly, rather enjoying the way that Smith’s breathing became uneven as he massaged his hard on through the thin material of his boxers.
“If you can just decide who’s fucking who and get on with it?” Ross piped up again in a rather annoyed voice, which Trott chose to ignore. Instead of answering Ross, he just released his hold on Smith’s cock in order tug those annoying boxers down. This wasn’t terribly successful, given Smith’s position still straddling his lap, and after a moment, he gave up before giving his friend a shove.
“Just take the fucking things off, would you please?” He requested, and to his relief, for once Smith decided not to be a contrary little shit, instead just stumbling to his feet and kicking them off immediately. Trott grabbed his wrist and tugged him down onto the couch beside him before moving to straddle him instead in a reversal of their previous positioning. He was quite pleased with himself for being so in control of the situation, but then Smith had to go and spoil that by grabbing onto his hips, holding them in place as he thrust up against him, and whoops, there went any semblance of control Trott might have had.
“Shit.” He groaned, every bit as eloquent as Smith had been earlier, before spitting into his own hand and then reaching down to close his grip around the hard cock that was currently rubbing against his own. He opted to ignore his own needs for the time being, simply relishing in how damn beautiful the other man currently looked, his head thrown back to rest on the back of the couch and his eyes half lidded, and… shit, had he really just thought of him as beautiful? Yeah, Trott was well and truly doomed, but right then, he couldn’t bring himself to really care when presented with the remarkably attractive noises that he was managing to bring out of Smith. This was only slightly ruined by Ross giving a mildly annoyed sounding sigh.
Eventually, it became a bit too much to take, and he wrapped his free hand around his own erection, pumping at both of them with a matching rhythm. This lasted only a few moments before Smith noticed and batted his hand away to take over, and Trott muffled his own resulting groan by leaning in to kiss him once again. This was breaking another unspoken rule, and he knew it. Kissing was all well and good, but it was typically reserved for early foreplay, and any kissing after things went below the belt was something of a no no, as it made things that much more intimate. Smith wasn’t complaining, though, and even kissed him back, so Trott supposed giving in to temptation there in the heat of the moment hadn’t been too much of a mistake. Though it didn’t seem to escape Ross’ attention.
“Real romantic. You two gonna go on a date after this?” He questioned, sounding vaguely amused with himself. For a moment, Trott thought this might have gotten to Smith, as he felt his hand release its grip on his hip, but then he saw out of the corner of his eye that Smith was, in fact, just flipping Ross the bird. The surge of affection he felt for the man who was currently under him was intense, and only diminished ever so slightly when that proved to be the moment when Smith came all over his stomach. A rather lackluster end to what had been a brilliant start, if Trott was honest, but Smith at least had the decency to make sure that Trott got off as well before he flopped back on the couch like a limp rag. Trott rolled off of him to sink back into the sofa beside him instead, trying his very best not to look to pleased about it when Smith pulled him in for a bit of a cuddle.
“Really? Not even going to bother cleaning yourselves up? You fucking disgust me.” Ross supplied, although his barbs didn’t have any real venom behind them. They were downright affectionate, really.
“You could make yourself fucking useful and get us a damp cloth, you know.” Smith replied, still breathing rather harder than normal.
“Don’t be such a lazy bitch, Smith. Take a fucking shower, and bring your boyfriend with you.”
Trott made an exaggerated kissy face at Ross, who rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the film, just in time for the chestburster to erupt out of Kane. Trott returned his own attention to Smith, contemplating suggesting that maybe they should go for a shower after all. The other man seemed to be having a bit of trouble catching his breath, though, and his face was a bit on the pale side.
“...You alright, mate?” He questioned, concern edging into his voice. Smith clearly noticed this, and flashed him another winning grin.
“Yeah, s’nothing. Guess you rocked my world a bit harder than you thought, eh?” He asked, still rather breathlessly. His words did little to alleviate his friend’s concern, and Trott opened his mouth to comment further, only to be interrupted by Ross.
“Really? I don’t think he got the chance, Sir Blows His Load Prematurely.”
“Aw, is widdle Wossy feeling a bit left out?” Smith questioned with a laugh, despite the obvious shortness of breath still plaguing him. “We could always have a round two and invite you this time. Only if you beg enough, though.”
Trott leaned back again, resting his head on Smith’s shoulder without really thinking about it. The taller man shifted to loosely rest an arm around Trott’s shoulders as his breathing finally began to steady. Smith didn’t seem to concerned about it himself, so Trott figured he was probably just worrying about nothing.
Yeah, it was definitely nothing.