Archive of Our Own ^beta

It all really happens like clockwork. It’s simple, predictable, it’s routine. Abed likes that. They walk home, and the walk feels twenty minutes shorter than it typically is. Troy’s giddy next to him, arm lazily swinging close enough to lock pinkies with Abed. The sun is low in the sky. 

Abed’s not anxious to get inside the apartment like he might be if this wasn’t the situation. He pulls off his bandana and feels that it’s faintly damp. His flannel feels heavy on him, like he can still feel the ghost of Troy’s arms on it, swinging around his neck to tug him in and crashing their lips together on the Greendale steps. He wants to preserve it forever, never wash it, just to remember the moment every time he slips it over his shoulders. Or, better yet, Troy could do it again every time Abed wears it, the yank on his collar, caving into Abed, standing on his toes, and feverishly breathing and biting into the kiss.

Troy must want something right now, too, Abed considers. The way he kissed Abed wasn’t really an appropriate “public kiss” by most standards. It was more openmouthed and breathy and lengthy and pornographic. Not that Abed is complaining. Never complaining. 

But even as Abed slips the key into the door and wrestles it open, Troy’s jittery and impatient. Abed tries to keep his movements slow and easy, taking his time. Troy makes a little noise resembling a whine, but claps his hand over his mouth like he’s trying to suppress it. The energy travels to his legs, and he bounces a little, and then more lightly when Abed gives him what he hopes is a glare in the silly sense.

He swings the door open and throws the keys onto the counter. Troy unzips and shrugs off his too-big jacket. He’s wearing a damp white undershirt. It sticks to his skin in all the right places. Abed suddenly feels weak. 

“Your shirt’s all sweaty,” he manages.

Troy nods, turning to face him, and they both decide at the same time. Troy cups Abed’s face like it’s precious, kissing him with bruising force and teeth and uninhibited whines. Abed tugs on the hem of Troy’s sweaty shirt and they break apart, spit clicking, as Abed rips it up and over his head. “Bed bed bed bed bed,” Troy whines, pushing them close together as Abed runs his hands up and down Troy’s exposed brown skin. 

His abs are always more chiseled than Abed’s, more perfected. They’re a little bit slick with sweat still, and Abed fights the urge to lick it off. Troy grabs Abed’s shoulders and pushes him backwards into Abed’s bedroom ( entitled , Abed thinks endearingly) and shoves him onto the bed. 

Troy is such a fucking sight , crawling over Abed and settling into his lap like he belongs there. He grinds into Abed’s leg and Abed feels him getting hard against it, which is intoxicating, but also way too fast.

Abed reaches up and grips Troy’s hips, stilling him entirely, holding him there. “Slow down, baby.” Troy’s eyes widen. “Sorry– did I misread the situation? I thought you’d be partial to pet names.”

“Call me that forever,” Troy says, in lieu of a response. Abed guesses, yes, that probably is a no. He’s always been good at guessing what Troy likes. Not even in a sexual way; movies, food, his coffee order, how many blankets he needs when Abed tucks him in. Troy leans in again, and Abed braces himself to catalog the memory of Troy’s kiss in his brain, until Troy jerks back, head cocked. “Annie?”

“Taken care of,” Abed replies. On the way home, he had received a text message along the lines of I’m going out, tell me when to come back, and he had never been so grateful.

Troy’s eyes widen further. “Taken care of? Did you kill her?”

“No–”

“Then what does ‘taken care of’ mean?” Abed pointedly raises his eyebrows in response and Troy cracks a grin. “Why–”

And, without hesitation, Abed lifts his leg to make direct contact with Troy’s crotch, guiding his hips to ride into it. Troy explodes in a broken moan, and Abed can see the thought instantly leave his head while he does. “That’s it. Does that feel good?”

“ Yes ,” Troy whispers, dropping his head onto Abed’s shoulder and rolling his hips down, sparking friction with Abed’s jean-clad thigh. 

Troy’s hands slide between their bodies, trembling, and start to undo Abed’s button and the fly of his jeans. His fingertips trace the outline of Abed’s cock, which is definitely already straining to escape its confinement. Troy smiles wider. 

Abed comes back to earth, disregarding how insanely dreamlike this situation is, and keeps one hand on Troy’s hip while pops open his jeans, too. He hastily pulls them down and Troy complies with his efforts, lifting his hips and his legs and shoving them off his ankles. 

Abed tries to be as exploratory as possible now, because Troy’s patience is running thin and he’s snaking his hand into Abed’s boxers to wrap his hand around Abed’s cock and that’s good . 

Instead of rutting into the touch, Abed focuses his energy on making Troy make noises. He lays a hand over his chest and thumbs at his nipple until it’s stiff, biting up his shoulder until he finds a nice place to latch his teeth onto. He sucks a bruise there while he moves his hand to work at the other nipple, and Troy moans , between Abed’s hands and his mouth and his thigh. 

At last, Troy snaps, pushing his face into the crook of Abed’s neck and breathing there. “Abed,” he whispers. “Fuck me right now.”

“Okay,” Abed agrees, even though the better part of his conscience says they should take it slower. But Abed has never needed anything this badly in his whole life right now, has never wanted to feel someone else as badly as he does. “Okay. Turn over.”

Troy obeys, turning around and allowing Abed to pull him to lie on his stomach. He’s pliant and he makes little noises as Abed gently arranges him on the bed, nudging his legs spread. Troy’s hair appears as mussed as curls can be and his cheeks are flushed from all the kissing and the heat. He looks almost angelic. 

Abed kisses his way down Troy’s spine, grazing his lips over each vertebrae until Troy arches against him, moaning. Abed bites down near his hip, just to feel it, just to have and Troy whimpers into the pillow. Abed wants to hear that sound forever. He noses down, hands planted on Troy’s ass, and bites gently on the inside of his thigh. The whimper opens up to a moan, and Abed pulls away for long enough to finish unzipping his own jeans before he returns his attention to Troy.

“You’re usually so loud,” Abed whispers, stepping out of his pants and stroking himself languidly. He hopes the whoosh of the fabric is audible to Troy, and he hopes the slight jerk of Troy’s hips is a mixture of anticipation and arousal. “I know you can be loud, baby.”

Troy whines as Abed takes the waistband of his boxers and drags his fingers around, snapping the elastic. “Please, please, please fuck me.” Abed drags the band down just a bit. “Please,” Troy tacks on.

“Please?”

“ Please , Abed.”

“Okay,” Abed says, leaning up to kiss Troy’s neck. “You’re so good at begging.”

“‘Cause I want you inside of me,” Troy retorts, turning to kiss Abed again. It’s an awkward kiss. Abed laughs.

“Okay, have you ever done this before?”

Troy ducks his head. “Uh— no. Not— like— with a guy. Or a person. Or– just shut up and do it.”

“Where’s all your patience? Did that go out the window when you told me you loved me?”

He, nevertheless, tugs Troy’s underwear all the way off this time. Troy gasps a little, but Abed smothers his momentary surprise by leaning down to spread his cheeks and lick once over his hole, flattening his tongue. Troy quite literally recoils, releasing an obscene moan that Abed smiles at before Troy looks over and takes a shuddery breath. 

“Okay,” Troy shudders finally. “I love you. Please just– do that– or whatever you want– to me.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Abed! Just– please?”

“Please what?”

“Please touch me.”

“Okay,” Abed agrees, shifting on the bed to reach for his nightstand, where he’s stowed a bottle of lube with dark purple packaging and a strip of condoms. He rips one off, no rush, and returns to his place between Troy’s spread legs. “You know, it’s easier to get you desperate than I expected.” He watches Troy flush instantly at that and grins. “Don’t be embarrassed. Or do. You look pretty either way.”

Troy tosses a pillow at Abed’s head. It misses by a few inches. “Hurry up , Abed!”

Abed gingerly places the condom on the sheets, replacing it with the purple bottle. The lube isn’t as cold as it usually is, when Abed squeezes it onto his index finger, and Abed secretly wishes it were freezing so Troy could shriek again. As soon as he presses it to Troy’s rim, he realizes he doesn’t need it to be freezing. Troy gasps as he gets used to the sensation, and Abed waits for him to plead again to push in a little. It comes in an undignified stream of “put it in”s and “please”s. 

Troy’s greedy with the first finger, pushing back into it and moaning, but Abed doesn’t seek to stop him quite yet. This is nice. The room is filled with Troy’s pants and gasps as Abed angles his finger every which way, occasionally curling it up and catching Troy off guard. 

Abed’s usually quiet during sex for one of two reasons: when he’s hooked up previously, being absolutely silent even while you come is the quickest way to never talk to someone again. They’d rush him out of the house, blushing deep red, and never text back. Once Abed realized this talent, he never went back. Good sex meant commitment, and commitment surely meant a fallout in the near future. The other reason is that if Abed opened his mouth while inside of someone, he’d start spewing uncomfortable or less relevant information— which is neither sexy nor mysterious. 

Nevertheless, all of those ground rules have been effectively thrown out the window with Troy. As soon as Abed adds another finger, driving it in with more conviction as Troy starts to let it take him over, his mouth is suddenly running to dangerous places. “Troy, you have no idea how hot this is,” he whispers. “How hot you are. Do you have any idea how good you look right now? Look at you. Taking my fingers so well.”

“ Abed ,” Troy moans, shuddery and heavy and so, so beautiful.

Abed continues. “You’re so good like this, so pretty. So pretty. You’re such a good boy, you know that Troy? My good boy. God, you’re just—”

“Okay, fuck,” Troy breathes. “Okay, Abed. fuck me right now. Please. Please . I’m going crazy.”

Not half as crazy as I’m going, Abed wants to retort, but instead he withdraws his fingers a little too eagerly and scrambles for the condom packet. Where’s my decorum , the voice in Abed's head pesters him. How am I going to weasel my way out of another destructive relationship?

Apparently Abed’s rolling on the condom too absently, or maybe Troy just gets Abed a little (Abed appreciates a good callback, even if it was to a few hours ago), but he’s caught by the forearm and he looks down and there’s Troy, with those big, brown, understanding eyes. 

“You look like you’re thinking bad things.”

“I’m not,” Abed protests, and then he realizes that he shouldn’t be . That not even fourteen million dollars came between them, not even the death of a friend, nothing. Troy leaving is hardly an option at this point, as far as logic is concerned. And Troy is steadfast in his love, gentle and perfect and soft around the edges, always saying most of the right things and making up for when the things are wrong. “I’m fine,” Abed decides, a smile creeping onto his face. “I’m fine.”

“F-I-N-E or F-Y-N-E?”

“F-Y-N-E.”

Troy grins up at him, and then leans over to press a tiny, chaste kiss to Abed’s dick, like the idiot he is. “Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Abed replies, and it feels easy. Not forced. It doesn’t hurt to push out. It feels so good, actually. Abed wants to say it a trillion times. A quadrillion. He recalibrates, stepping back, and sighs. Troy is so gorgeous like this. Maybe he’d let Abed take a picture of him like this sometime— just to keep. “You still want this?”

“Yeah,” Troy whispers, voice shaky with arousal. Abed knows the feeling. 

Something builds up in his chest when he settles back, hopefully for the last time, between Troy’s thighs, grabbing the uppermost area of his left leg and wrapping his hand around it, at least as much as he can. Troy shivers as Abed holds him still and pushes in, little by little. He makes a tiny noise that somewhat resembles a cry so Abed hesitates, halfway in and overcome with feeling, to check on him. 

Troy’s spurred into action instantly , whining and begging and reaching behind himself to pull Abed further in by the forearm, yanking him in. He’s bottomed out in what feels like an eternity but was probably mere seconds and Troy’s arching and whimpering and no one should look as beautiful as Troy does with sweat beading on their neck, eyes glazed over, making obscene noises like he is.

“Is that okay?” Abed wills himself to whisper, because he’s feeling kind of helpless to the motion of his hips and he’s trying so desperately to hold back from shoving Troy into the mattress and making him scream. 

“ Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes ,” Troy whispers back, tugging Abed even closer still. Abed complies, falling a little bit on top of Troy and then rolling on his side so they’re spooning with Abed’s arm thrown haphazardly over Troy’s ribcage. 

It’s so comfortable. It’s nice . Abed’s fully inside of Troy and it’s– nice. Nice. Cool. 

“Abed,” Troy whispers, pushing his head back further into the crook of Abed’s neck. “You aren’t this talkative, usually– right?”

“During sex? No, I’m not,” Abed hums back, rocking into Troy all slow and easy and good. He kisses Troy’s cheek. Troy’s eyelashes flutter. Abed can see his eyes, which is even better than what they were doing before. “Why do you ask?”

“Can you please not get mad at me when I tell you what I’m gonna tell you?”

“I don’t know what you’re gonna tell me.”

“Okay, well, do you remember when White Abed broke up with his girlfriend, like, two years after you hit on her? That one girl?”

“Yeah,” Abed sighs. Usually he would correct Troy with either of their actual names, but the only name he can remember right now is Troy’s. He’s still moving, and Troy’s making little punched-out noises and breathing hard, but he looks so great, smiling a little and all blissed out.

“Well, you texted me to stay out of the apartment, ‘cause yeah, and– and I didn’t have my phone ‘cause I left it at the apartment, so I went home and– I kinda heard? And then I got– like, really, really sad. But you were— you were kinda quiet. So I guess that helped me feel better.”

“Okay,” Abed says, there’s nothing else to say but that and nothing else to do but drag openmouthed kisses down the nape of Troy’s neck. 

“Do you think I’m maybe special?” Troy blurts, like he’s been holding it in. 

Abed can’t help it. He laughs. It’s absurd enough that they’re bringing all these other characters into their first time together, but for Troy to ask Abed if he thinks he– of all people– is special? Troy, who has spent his entire life subverting the mean jock trope? Troy, who listens to and understands Abed better than anyone has ever done in Abed’s whole life? Troy, who stuck around? “Troy, you’re so special.”

“ You’re so special, Abed,” Troy breathes, pointedly pushing back into Abed’s unconscious movements. He’s more confident now, like he needed Abed to say that to free him of inhibition. “I love you.”

“I love you. Did I tell you how good you feel? You feel so good.”

“Faster, please,” Troy whines, and Abed obliges, running his hands all over Troy and at last wrapping one around his neglected dick. He lets Troy push into the touch too, and they find a steady rhythm in that. Abed’s fucking Troy deep and hard and good, in time with the hand on his cock, and Troy’s whimpering out yeses and fucks in this voice . Abed wants all of him all the time.

“I’m gonna come,” Abed sighs at last, so far past the point of caring what his voice sounds like, mouth right next to Troy’s ear. He feels the orgasm building like a tidal wave in his stomach. 

“Me too,” Troy gasps, “Abed, you feel so good. I love you so much.”

“I know,” Abed whispers with the half of a brain cell he has left, and then the white heat rushes over him like a surge of lightning. He must be making noises, and a lot of them, but he can’t even hear himself at this point, he’s too engrossed in the feeling, riding it out.

When he comes back to, Troy’s half on top of him, trembling through the aftershocks and leaning into what little cushion Abed’s chest provides.

“I should clean you up,” Abed hums, kissing Troy’s hair. 

“Don’t leave.”

“I’m not. I’m just thinking about it. We’re due for drinks at seven.”

“We have so much time,” Troy groans as Abed gingerly pushes him onto the mattress to go grab a washcloth. His legs are still shaky. “Hey, by the way, what happened at the bar last night?”

Last night . That was last night. Abed relishes the feeling that things can change so much in twenty-four hours while he soaks a washcloth. “You were getting cuddly with the polygraph guy.”

“Was not. He was friendly .”

“If you’re bumping noses with a guy and calling him friendly , I might go insane.”

“Okay,” Troy sighs. “Fine.” Abed emerges with the washcloth, and runs it over Troy’s bare chest and his abs and his thighs. While Abed wipes him down, Troy keeps talking. “Well, I promise I’ll never ‘bump noses’ with a weird– by our standards– polygraph guy, thus making you retreat to the bathroom in jealousy.”

“Thanks.”

Troy giggles. “Also, Jeff texted me that night. He was like, ‘don’t you love Abed? Don’t you want to sleep with him and never go away?’”

“Remind me to remind Jeff he’s annoying.”

“Aww.” Troy grabs Abed by the forearm and pulls him back into bed. “Can we be like this forever?”

“I don’t know if that’s–” Abed starts, ready to reason through the way relationships fluctuate as time progresses. Troy always watches, intent and wide-eyed. But then again, forever is an option for them. The thought itself makes Abed beam. “Yeah, okay.”