Rating: Oh, um, a lot. More. A lot more.

Song: This chapter exists as it is b/c of the song "Blue Jeans" by Lana Del Rey. Fuckin' sexy. Lyric title from Counting Crows.

Notes: I can't believe I wrote a scene where Jeff Winger is kinda bad at sex. Let's never do that again! I've given up on predicting how long this will run. Thanks for sticking through the dark times, and I appreciate every single comment! Some of my more perspicacious reviewers have asked why they didn't run away last chapter.

Long Answer: Jeff and Annie have been subjected to imprisonment and injury to a point where they were unable to control their lives, and as a result they've become psychologically conditioned to respond to implied threats as strongly as literal threats. So Jeff realizes that rather than run away and fear reprisal, he'd choose to spend his time having life-affirming sex as an emotional reaction to the brush with mortality.

Short Answer: One can only inject so much realism into a "fuck or die" prompt.

Bonus: If you read carefully, you'll learn what that word meant that Loki said to Natasha in The Avengers.American ratings censors just didn't know how dirty it was.



folded and unfolded and unfolding


When the food came, Jeff was willing to forget about everything for a moment just to stare. Too much for the kitchenette counter, half the sprawling feast was left on a mobile serving tray they could wheel around the room. Every appetizer on the menu had been fetched from the bowels of the Hotel d'Awkward: steak strips in a marinade, glazed nuts with sweet pear slices over mixed greens, shoestring onions sprinkled with truffle shavings, a caprese tomato salad, and French onion soup with rolls. There were four choices of entrees, because other than chicken fingers Jeff had no idea what meat she preferred. An ice bucket held a bottle of champagne, and a cabernet sauvignon stood to one side.

The fruit tray, now half-picked apart, was a teaser to give the kitchen time for this meal. Jeff shot a glance at Annie to gauge her approval, congratulating himself on ordering all this before they... experimented. Thankfully, Annie had the presence of mind to have their clothes picked up and laundered, so whenever they got out of this bizarro world they wouldn't be leaving in stolen robes. The clothes would come back sometime tomorrow, and until then the menu was ready to be plundered.

Despite their civil exchanges, he was a little mad at her right now. No one likes to be faked on, least of all a professional faker. Inventing a bogus class was one thing, but sex—Jeff had to draw a line somewhere. And he acknowledged that he was probably not as disappointed as Annie had to be underneath all those Shirley-smiles. After three years of build up (his fault), the lovely Miss Edison deserved mind-blowing sex more than any woman Jeff knew. Their first time might have been mishandled (also his fault), but she hadn't thrown him out so the situation could still be rectified. Until then, if Jeff knew anything after thirty-five years of mothers, girlfriends, and mornings after, it was that you never went wrong with a woman by feeding her. He eyeballed Annie from his peripheral vision.

Lured to its exquisite variety and price-tag-free shamelessness, Greendale's brightest student approached the feast like a lady in love. "Oh wow!" she said in a melding of squeal and gasp that charmed Jeff right to his murky, embittered soul. With two fingers, Annie plucked a ribbon of steak up by the toothpick and brought it to her lips. She swallowed it whole like a cat, and when she chewed the expression on her face drifted from anticipation to practically orgasmic. "Oh my god, Jeff," she purred. "That's amazing."

Annoyance hit him in a double strike with humiliation. Getting upstaged by food was a new personal low for Winger. If she'd bothered to open her eyes, Annie would've also noticed he also had the beginnings of a hard-on. It was like this girl had no idea what she was capable of.

"Eat up!" he urged, hoping he hadn't completely spoiled any sexual regard she may have once held for him. On his plate, Jeff collected a bowl of soup and, because it had been so long, a bread roll too. He deserved to have something go right today.

Annie was over the moon when she found the BBC channel, so they watched a rerun of Cougarton Abbey and two episodes of Top Gear.He still didn't buy this cheerful attitude, but a glass of red wine and some food had gone a long way to softening the hardness beneath her surface expression. When the tall Brit finally won the junker race, Annie brought her plate to the kitchen, and Jeff switched the TV to a soft music channel and lowered the volume to background noise.

Across the room, she stood in front of the cleared table, cloaked in a terrycloth robe with her hair in a messy pony tail. As he watched from the bed, Annie stretched her spine and then ran one hand over her neck. With her hands raised the sleeves of the robe dropped, revealing creamy white arms and the memory of soft skin.

Sliding from the bed, Jeff crossed the space till he stood behind Annie. Carefully, he set one hand on the center of her back. She gasped and jumped, but he 'shhhhsh'd her as his other hand replaced her arm at her side. With the utmost gentleness, Jeff began to massage her shoulders through the robe. Any hesitance fluttered out of Annie, and she sunk into the feeling of his fingers coaxing her muscles. The robe slipped a little, revealing the nape of her neck, and when he dragged his thumb down it her breath caught.

"Jeff," she murmured. It was a question and a statement together.

"Annie," he replied, voice low. The only sounds were the music drifting from the television, and their own breathing. His hands traveled from her shoulders down to her arms, petting the cloth as he slid his body flush with hers. He leaned down and touched his lips to the spot where her hair tapered.

"What's the, um," she licked her lips and Jeff wondered if her heart was beating fast as fast as his. "What's the goal here?"

"Let's see," he drawled, and as he said the word he took her hands and placed them on his body: one stretched up to his neck; one reaching back to his bare, muscular hip. Between them, the fabric of her bathrobe magnified their body heat. "I think I owe you something."

"How's that?" Her fingers squeezed his thigh experimentally.

Jeff chuckled against her ear. Now he knew she would play, and her feigned ignorance was cute. He moved the palms of his hands over her ribs, slowly bring them to the place where her robe joined. He pulled at one tail of the knot, and it slipped open.

"You haven't been honest, Annie," he whispered against her neck. "I messed up, and you didn't tell me."

"That's not," she panted as his hands claimed her breasts, "That's not true. It was good." Jeff grinned where she couldn't see it, and grazed her earlobe with his teeth. His touch never stopped, never lingered on one part of her body.

"Hm," he said, and slid the base of his palm over her mound, quick and hard. Annie jerked back against him, her round butt cheeks pressing on his erection through the thin hotel robe. He dove for her neck, kissing the creamy skin and worshiping every fluttery breath she released. Effortlessly, he slipped one finger inside her, then another. Already wet, Annie gave a moan utterly unlike any sound she'd made two hours before. This was pure hunger, and Jeff would never mistake it again.

When he dragged his fingers in and out, in and out, she pulled his head down over her shoulder for a scorching kiss. He pushed into her back, letting her feel how much he wanted her, and his fingers moved inside her slick entrance in a steady rhythm.

"Jeff." She whispered his name as she bucked against his hand and his hard, broad chest. "More," she panted, and he touched her clit with his thumb as she writhed. "I'm close."

It took all his self-control not to carry her backward to the bed, but this wasn't about him. Jeff had something to prove, and he wanted Annie to benefit from it. His fingers pumped faster, hitting the places that made her shudder in his harms.

"What do you want, Annie?" Her eyes were closed as the feeling took her far away, all her concentration centered in one spot. The sight of her black eyelashes against her cheeks as she squirmed and moaned was better than pornography.

"I want to feel it," she said. Her robe was halfway to the floor, caught between them by the long sleeves still on her elbows. Distracted, she wiggled to shrug them off, desperate to keep his rhythm at the same time. Freed, her hands climbed back up to his neck for purchase, and the fabric fell at last. He immediately closed the last breadth of space between them, letting his warm body capture and support her from behind. Jeff leaned them both forward, placing her hands on the tabletop and helping her knees spread apart. His hand still moved inside her, harder and faster. With every plunge Annie's breath became gasps.

"You lied," he said in her ear. Annie tried to push back against him and down to his hand at the same time. "You didn't come before, did you?"

She whimpered, "Stop teasing," and opened her legs wider. Together, they were bent nearly prone over the surface of the table, only Jeff's free hand to hold them up. Their mirrored reflections were visible through the open door of the bathroom: his taught back and her wanton face. Jeff asked her again, burning the words into her skin.

"What do you want, Annie? Tell me, so I can give it to you."

Smacking her hand on the wooden surface, Annie let loose a noise that mixed pleasure with the intense exasperation only he could evoke: "I want to come, Jeff!" Her voice croaked on the words. "I want you to fuck me like you said you wanted in the cell. I want all of that."

"Fuck," he whispered, taken back to the image of her sucking his cock and swallowing all of it. "Fuck, Annie." He used his fingers to open her folds and then with a thrust he was inside her. They moved together in hard waves, braced against the table of a stranger's the hotel room.

Her cunt was as achingly hot as he remembered, but Jeff went deeper now, and every sensation was magnified. He took Annie from behind, one hand braced on the wood while the other stayed at her clit, rubbing it mercilessly as he ravaged her quim from this desperate angle.

Spoken words abandoned him as they rocked against each other. His mouth grazed her neck and shoulders, hot little touches against the raging sensation of finally being here. Even if they'd had sex just hours ago, it seemed a hazy daydream compared to the torrent he felt now. This was one of his oldest fantasies brought to life: after-hours in the empty cafeteria at Greendale. As his reward for passing the Spanish final he bends Annie over their favorite lunch table, and screws her eighteen-year-old pussy until she begs.

"Please," Annie moaned, and Jeff thrust harder. This is better, he thought. This was so much fucking better.She wasn't a kid and she wasn't a delicate piece of lace. Annie pushed back just as rough, and her breasts heaved attractively with each roll.

Mind spinning from the heat of her sex, he tried to picture himself from a week ago, a month ago: from any time before he knew what it felt like to be inside Annie. If Jeff hadn't squandered so many precious encounters, this could've happened somewhere safe. It might have been the boys' apartment, in that little imaginary room where dreams are real. After the glee performance Jeff could've invited Annie back to his place, watched her strip the Santa outfit off her milky breasts, and taken her to bed. Or what if he had seduced her into a supply closet when they played at being lawyers, palms catching her small buttoned wrists against the door? Jeff wondered if Annie would still moan his name when they fucked, or made love, or did whatever the hell they wanted.

"Jeff, fuck—oh, my god," panted Annie, thrusting to meet his cock with every pump. When she moved, a bead of sweat trickled down her spine. He caught it with his tongue, kissing its path up her back. Wherever they went now, he would want Annie again. No setting was off limits after tasting her. While Jeff lacked the power to go back in time and scream at his idiot self to seize every wasted moment, he had to believe those chances still existed.

It took no strength at all to pull her back against him, upright and barely standing. Mouths meeting, Jeff wrapped one arm beneath her breasts to keep her there. With the other he rubbed her little knot of nerves as fast as he could. His cock slid in and out until it was all too much and she reeled against his kiss, shuddering as her muscles thrummed over her whole body and her heartbeat skyrocketed. Annie slumped, breathing out, her toes still brushing for purchase on the floor, and he grabbed her tight and close.

He pumped into her two more times. "Jeff," she whispered. His face screwed up and his nose tucked into the curve of her neck while his body shook.

Annie murmured, "Jeff, Jeff..." Everywhere he felt her hands: curling against his side or touching the hollow of his neck. She kept repeating his name but her voice was a universe away.

He staggered back a couple steps to the wall, where his legs gave out. As he slid down the beige surface and collapsed, he gathered Annie shakily into his lap, winding long arms around her shoulders and her knees. Jeff sensed himself softening against her hip after they came apart. They were done, finished and spent, but his limbs couldn't stop shaking.

In the cell, in the van, or against the table, nothing changed.

Give us a stage, we'll give you a show.

Little earthquakes jumped down his spine and tremors shook his fingertips, while Annie cupped his cheeks and murmured promises. As Jeff rocked back and forth on the carpet she hugged him, ready to be the fiercest shield. There was moisture where his face pressed into her shoulder, and her small fingers made trails through his hair.

"Shh, I've got you. I got you."