Jeff Winger despised the phrase making love. To him, it brought to mind visions of cheesy romance novels with long haired lotharios gracing the cover, red satin sheets that nobody in their right mind would actually own, and well planned evenings of flickering candlelight and cheap red wine that you had to pretend to enjoy.

Making love was for people who collected cutesy soft toys that held red hearts with the words love or hugs or kisses clutched in their sickeningly sweet little paws. Making love was for old married couples who weren't attracted to each other any more, virgins who were saving themselves for marriage, and Rory from Gilmore Girls. Making love was for girls like Annie Edison.

And yet despite Jeff Winger's conviction that Annie was the type of girl who would expect cuddling and spooning after a night of staring into one anothers eyes and whispered I love yous, his eternally screwed up and misguided brain had other ideas.

...

When Jeff and Britta had sex it was the total opposite of making love. It was screwing. Fucking. Shagging if you're Professor Duncan. Whatever you want to call it; and it was usually angry. Or competitive. And usually a bit fucked up. And yeah, there might have been some emotions involved in there at some point, but at the end of the day it was just two people working out some tension. Surprisingly unyielding, stubborn tension.

So when Jeff found himself faced with a very nearly naked Annie Edison draped over his breakfast bar late one Friday afternoon he felt a modicum of surprise. And no, not is usual one raised eyebrow and an ironic comment kind of surprise. The pulse quickening, lightly moist palms kind of surprise. Which in turn caused his self preservation instinct to kick in; because god forbid his womanizing asshole cred be lowered or in any way maimed by a moment of weakness.

And when Annie bit into the apple that she had been dangling over her soft, oh so pouty lips that propensity for survival kicked into high gear and the snarky, cynical lawyer crawled to the surface.

"Is the Dildopolis selling Annie Edison sex dolls now or am I in the wrong apartment?"

Her head turned slowly , taking her time with the crisp white flesh of the apple. After what felt like the longest time she finally spoke, eyebrows raised and voice steeped in mock surprise, "But I have a key, surely it must be the latter."

He frowned and narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "Give me back my key, Annie."

"I don't have your key, Jeff." His frown turned to a glare and he crossed his arms, tapping one foot impatiently. She smirked and took another bite of the apple, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully as she chewed. Another eternity passed as she swallowed, wiped a small trail of juice off her chin daintily and licked her finger. "I have a copy of your key."

"Alright, I'll bite. Why do you have a copy of my apartment key and why are you on my kitchen counter in your underwear?" He shifted uncomfortably and forced his eyes to focus on the ugly cheap chandelier hanging between them.

"Annie, What do you think, the black or the..." the voice trailed off and Jeff closed his eyes for a moment willing himself not to let them drift over to the bedroom door. He failed. A lithe pale body stood in the doorway, covered in tiny scraps of white fabric, hand held up dangling an equally scandalous black bra from a fingertip. "Oh hey, Jeff. What do you think? White or black?"

"Seriously, Britta. Did you have to start wearing the sexy lingerie after we stopped screwing?" His eyes were back on the ugly light.

"I wear sexy lingerie all the time, you just always wanted to have sex on laundry day."

"Oh, so it was laundry day for an entire week once, was it?"

"Ever heard of panty liners?"

"Ew, gross. You're a woman. You do not have bodily functions." The clicking of a heel on tile echoed through the sparsely furnished apartment and he prayed she wasn't getting any closer.

"I don't know, what do you think, Annie? Are orgasms bodily functions?" More clicking and then soft footfalls let him know that she was getting closer. But it was when he felt a finger run down his left arm and a husky voice in his right ear that he knew that there was a special place in agnostic hell reserved just for him.

"Oh yes, Britta. I think orgasms are definitely bodily functions."

"Okay, suddenly I feel much more comfortable." He sighed in relief and allowed is sight to drift back to what could be considered a normal field of vision. Grabbing Britta firmly by the shoulders he shook her sharply and she started, looking at him like his nose had suddenly been replaced by a ping pong ball. "I've fallen asleep in my car again, haven't I?"

Britta's expression changed slowly and one corner of her mouth lifted up as she started nodding, "Yes, yes you have. Now Annie and I are going to do naughty things with you while you have a nice nap in your heated leather seats."

"Very, very naughty things, Jeff." The husky voice was in his ear again and a mouth closed around his earlobe, teeth biting, sending a shiver down his spine and a rush of blood to other parts of his anatomy. Annie was clearly struggling to reach and her leg had worked it's way around his, sliding against his pants and really not helping the situation a little higher up.

Her foot slid back to the ground and she moved to his back, arms encircling his waist and tugging on the buttons of his jeans. Britta, meanwhile had gripped his shirt collar with one hand and begun pulling him towards his couch. His eyes drifted to her ass and he let his eyes drift shut for a moment. "Please let me remember this when I wake up."

"Oh, I'm sure you will," Annie rasped as she shoved his jeans over his hips. Britta stepped aside and both women turned him around, shoving him down onto the cushions forcefully. Whatever was going on here was definitely not making love, and it was fucking hot.

Suddenly he had gone from towering over the two, to the complete opposite, Annie straddling his legs and Britta leaning over the back of the couch, hands sliding down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. He momentarily wondered where his brain had come up with this situation, but then thought better of the second guessing, afraid they would suddenly turn into two Peirces with bright pink fangs and flaming nipples.

Cold fingertips pressed against his cheek and he turned his head, lips finding Britta's in a slightly desperate clash of lips and tongues. He vaguely heard a gasp from Annie, and a muttered expletive that he was sure real Annie would never utter in a million years, and he found his shirt suddenly torn apart, buttons flying in every which direction. Mouth letting go of Britta's, he sat up as much as he could, shoving the sleeves down his arms and tossing the ruined garment towards the corner of the room.

Another pair of hands had grasped the sides of his head, and he suddenly found his bottom lip sucked into the warm, plush mouth of the brunette, this kiss far removed from either of the others they had shared in the past. he could feel his shoes being tugged off, and his jeans following, and a brief thought passed that he should perhaps make sure they were put somewhere safe, but Annie's talented tongue and surprisingly rough teeth had stopped him from remembering exactly why.

He slid his hands up her sides and tugged at the back of the bra, flicking the clasp open and moving his hands towards her shoulders as she sucked his tongue into her mouth and bit down on it sharply. He groaned and slid one strap down her shoulder but was surprised when the material didn't fall away.

"I guess this is the part where you turn into a herd of rampaging wildebeest and rampage through the building?" he rasped against her clavicle.

She chuckled and Britta's voice piped up from behind her. "Nope, this is the part where we take the memory stick out of your jeans and threaten you with releasing the Jeff Winger sex tape if you don't let Abed what's on it."

His eyes snapped open as he felt Annie leave his lap, adjusting her underwear. "What?"

"You heard me. Not very well to do for a lawyer to feature on YouPorn, now, is it?"

"And I thought I was having the best dream ever." He glared at Britta and switched his gaze to the dark haired woman, narrowing his eyes further. "And you, Annie. Since when do you strip down to your underwear and prostitute yourself for a stupid tape of me vomiting outside a stupid student bar?"

"I'm going to be an actress," she smiled brightly and bounced off towards his bedroom, calling out over her shoulder. "But only in the community theatre kind of way. Not the Hollywood kind of way."

His head fell back against the cushions and he closed his eyes, listening to Britta shuffle around the room clearly collecting all the hidden electronic gadgets they had tucked into every available nook and cranny. "Can I at least keep a copy for myself for wanking purposes?" he called out.

"Jeff, gross!"