For She's a Jolly Good Fellow

"Well, I'm sorry my dumb story reminded you of that."

"Britta..." Troy said, sadly. "Don't do that. Don't undersell yourself. Mrs. Estrada was right; that was really good writing."

She couldn't think of anything to say to that, so she brought the apple to her lips and torched the top of it with her lighter. She watched the fire consume the cannabis, watched the orange and red flames lick across it, blackening it and turning into ash. She released the carb, pulling the smoke in, feeling the familiar, tickling heat of it go down her throat and enter her lungs.

She exhaled, blowing the cloud of smoke up towards the roof of her car, watching it twist and dance around itself in the afternoon light. "God I needed that." She could already feel the pressure that had been pressing against her eyeballs all day start to slacken, could hear the cacophony that was her brain finally start to relax into a soothing buzz. She passed the apple to Troy, then laid her head in his lap as she watched him imitate her. "I- I know I've been doing this a lot lately it's just that-" She closed her eyes. "I always get like this, around this time of year. Around today."

"Today? What's so special about October 19th?" Troy asked after he'd exhaled.

"It's..." she opened her eyes again, looking up at him, at his stupid beautiful face that was etched with concern as he gazed down at her. Why did she not want to tell him? "It's my birthday..." She took another toke, grateful for the excuse to stop talking.

"Oh." He swallowed, taking the pipe back.

"What?" she asked, gazing up at him. She frowned. He was getting sad again, and it was probably all her fault. She stroked his leg with the back of her hand.

"I just... I've always known you must have had a hard childhood..." He swallowed again. "Just, you know... because of the way you always seem ready to be disappointed by people. The way you're always the first to cut yourself down. The way you get sad sometimes and you won't tell me why."

Britta didn't say anything.

"And... it's just... in that story...the one that wasn't about what it was about..."

"Yeah..."

"Well... it was the girl's birthday in that story, too..."

"Yeah..." She felt tears start to well up, unbidden, in her eyes. But they didn't feel painful, now.

"And... well... I don't want to pry... 'cause I can tell you don't really want to talk about it, but..." He looked back down at her. "I just... after Mrs. Estrada asked if you ever told anyone about what happened..." He swallowed again. "I remembered that lie I made up back in that Actor Inside class, about my uncle, you know, touching me..."

"Troy..." Britta said, sitting up against him and cupping his face. She thought he might've guessed why after Mrs. Estrada had been so... concerned. She didn't think he'd connect it back to that day.

"No," he said, grabbing her hand. "It makes me feel sick to my stomach to think about. About... about what you must have gone through when I did that... About how... about how I was just another one of those people who ended up disappointing you..."

She wrapped both her hands around his, bringing it to her mouth. "Troy..." she repeated, quieter.

He looked at her, his eyes round and wet, his forehead creased where his eyebrows knit together.

"Just..." Britta buried her head into his chest. She screwed her eyes shut, felt the tears slip out of them anyhow. "Just hold me, okay?"

He did. She sniffed as she felt his arms close in around her, pulling her up into his lap. She felt herself shaking, felt the carefully constructed control that'd been slipping out of her hands all day finally give up the ghost. She sobbed, crying for that 11 year old girl who's childhood was stolen from her in that depressing little diner; who had to learn, far too early, just how rapacious and uncaring the world really is.

Troy laid his chin on the top of her head, squeezing her tighter. She nuzzled in closer, appreciating the solidity of him. The reassurance it brought, the knowledge that he was there for her even if all he could do was this. "It's okay..." he whispered, over and over again, as he rocked her gently back and forth in his arms.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that for, how long it took for her sadness to exhaust itself. Eventually though, she pulled away from him, rubbing at her eyes. "Thanks..." she mumbled, not looking at him. He stroked her face.

"There's nothing in the world that makes me happier than helping you feel better," he said, with complete earnestness. She felt heat rush into her face, felt her tongue tie itself up inside her mouth. She grabbed the pipe from where it had fallen on the floor of the car, unsure of what else to do. "I just wish I could've gotten you something for your birthday..."

She smiled as she sprinkled more weed into the top of the apple. "Well... it's different for you I guess. You never got to celebrate birthdays growing up. My mom would always make a huge deal about mine even after... after what happened happened..." She coughed, clearing a little bit of phlegm out of her throat. "It's probably why I usually try and pretend that it doesn't exist."

"I guess that makes sense..." he said as he watched her take another hit. "Still, maybe-"

She never did find out whatever his plan to cheer her up was because he shut up when she brought her face close to his. His lips parted, and she lunged at him, kissing him, feeling the heat of his lips, the way he flinched away from her into his chair in surprise. She exhaled, pushing the smoke from her lungs into his as her tongue ravaged the inside of his mouth. She put her all into the kiss, wanting him to know how much she cared about him. How much he made her feel.

By the time she pulled back, she was seeing spots in the corners of her vision.

"Jesus..." he said, gasping.

"You know..." she said, kissing at his neck. "I think you might be right... presents are always nice. I left myself a little present for today, actually. Do you know what it is?"

"W-what?" he asked between moans as she worked a hand into his pants, gripping his hardness.

"I started taking birth control this week..." she whispered, unzipping his jeans as she nibbled on his ear lobe. She pushed them down his hips, exposing his boxers.

"Britta... wait..." he said, feebly. "Are you sure- are you sure you want to-"

"Shut the fuck up, Troy," she said, without malice, pulling him down on top of her as she pulled her own pants off. "Shut up and fuck me." He stopped resisting after that. His hand reached under her shirt, massaging her right breast as he kissed her. After a bit of fumbling, both their lower bodies were naked and exposed. They didn't bother trying to disrobe further than that. It wasn't worth the effort and time it would have taken.

He ran a hand through her pubic hair and she shuddered at the feeling of him pulling at her. Troy's thumb found her clit as his body pressed her into the cushions of the car seat. She whimpered, grabbing at his broad shoulders. "Don't stop," she gasped.

"Never," he said, as he worked his fingers inside of her. "Never."

She felt his erection, thick and hard, as he pawed at her. That irresistible, irrepressible heat was starting to build up inside of her, and she bucked under him, writhing. "Put your fucking cock in me," she breathed.

He shifted, adjusting himself so his pelvis lined up with hers. She felt him press at her opening, the head of his shaft just start to part her pussy. She pulled at him, bringing his body forward, over hers, forcing him to thrust downwards so that his cock pushed into her clit as he penetrated her. She mewled, arching her back, reveling in the sensation of his bare skin against hers. In the way his cock pulled and pushed against her folds, the way he dragged the sensitive, velvety skin of her cunt along with him as he pulled out of her. How did she ever put up with condoms for so long? How did she resist the feel of him, naked, against her?

She brought her legs together between his, squeezing his penis. She felt the pressure of him against her clitoris, felt the friction of their movements draw pleasure and ecstasy out of her. The heat of it, of their fucking, kept building. It started at her clit as it slid with exquisite, wet friction against the hard length of his dick before pressing into his pelvis. It crested and peaked, slowly building, spreading out until it had consumed her pelvis, her belly, her legs, blending with the scratchy feeling of her nipples against her bra as Troy's chest pressed against hers as he continued to thrust into her. She always got this, when she made love high. Always felt like the pleasure expanded and then reduced into a single, undeniable point of tension, over and over again.

But here, now, she felt something blocking her. Something getting in the way, preventing her release. It got worse and worse the longer it went on, becoming more and more of a nuisance. She let out a long, whining noise, felt her throat undulate and contract as she tried to express the tumult that was eating away at her. Troy kissed along her neck, making the whole thing even more unbearable.

"F-fucking God," she whined. Her voice sounded strange in her ears.

He giggled, a little hysterically.

"I-" she couldn't deny it anymore, the feeling that had been building inside her. For much, much longer than this rutting had been going on, for longer than this afternoon or even month. She stuck a hand in her mouth, gnawing on it. "I love you..."

He stopped, suddenly, freezing. That was no good. She slapped him on the ass, hard enough to make her hand sting. He resumed driving down into her, faster and more urgently than before. He made a deep, grunting noise in his throat as he accelerated his pace. She caressed him where her hand had struck, rubbing at his cheeks in a slow, circular motion.

"Say it again," he practically growled.

"I love you!" she shouted again. "I love you so fucking much! I love the way your cock feels. I love the way you make me feel. I love the way you look at me. I love the way you can just hold me, and I think everything's going to actually work out. I love the way you feel inside me. I love the way-"

His mouth found hers again, silencing her, his tongue capturing hers. She felt the walls of her cunny ripple against him, felt the pleasure spike deep inside herself. She cried out, in time with him, moaning into his mouth until their lips parted and she wailed, high and wordlessly. He pulled on her bottom lip, capturing it between his; sucking on it, stretching it taut. She clutched at his shoulders as another, stronger shiver ran down her spine. Her flesh contracted against his, and she felt his cock, every contour and jut of it.

He pulled out, suddenly, shifting his weight, raising himself onto his knees and further over her body. He grabbed her just above the ankles, spreading her legs open and dragging her back across the fabric of the car seat, grabbing her hips and lifting her so her ass and lower back stuck out into the air and her upper back pressed into the cushions. It was quick and unexpected, and the friction of the move scraped prickly hot and cold against her skin, bunching her shirt up even higher, flattening her sensitive nipples as they strained tighter against her bra.

Her legs were like jelly as he hooked his biceps behind the crook of her knees. She felt them tighten, felt her tendons stretch and pull as he pressed, slowly, deeply into her, bending over so his face was right up against hers. Gradually, torturously, his weight spread her thighs open, flattening them against her stomach, causing her pussy to stretch and tighten ahead of his prick. She could feel his cock twitching as he slowly parted her folds. When he stopped, buried to the hilt inside of her warm, wet sheath, her kneecaps grazed her collarbone. She rubbed the back of his thighs with her palms, squeezing her eyes shut.

She remembered, idly, as she groaned at the deepness of his penetration, the time she'd shown him this position. It seemed so long ago. He'd been such a quick learner, all for her.She wanted to tell him how proud of him she was. She wanted to tell him about the ecstasy he was inflicting on her. To find the words to describe the way her walls strained against the sudden, thick push of his cock against them, the way the hard knob of his pubic bone pressed, deliciously, into her naked, sensitive clit, the way the burning feeling in her muscles and ligaments arced across her like a white hot fire, their paths burning out from her lower back and legs and shoulders and neck and coming together, coursing into her core, adding fuel to the hot, roasting furnace between her legs where she enveloped him. But the exertion and the pleasure and the heat of her body got in the way. All she could do was moan, helplessly, and try and shape the sounds coming out of her mouth into something that resembled "love... you..."

"I love you too..." he breathed, slowly beginning to move gently back and forth inside her. "So much." She opened her eyes again. He was gazing at her rapturously, his eyes dancing across her face. "You're so beautiful." He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, cupping her cheek, smiling a smile so open and wide Britta thought she might fall into it and never find herself again. She smiled back, her hands wandering upwards to caress the smooth, pliable skin of his butt. He took a deep breath, slowly pulling his cock back.

"F-faster..." she breathed, gasping, her hands squeezing into the flesh of his ass as she felt the length of him slide against and out of her. His face was twisted into an ecstatic grimace, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Feel so... good..." he said as he bore down into her with the same slow, languorous pace, until their bodies were pressed together again.

"Don't make me... spank you again..." she teased, ever-so-softly pressing her fingernails into his skin. He laughed, drawing out of her more quickly this time.

He fucked her, over and over, faster and harder with each stroke. She flexed her wrists, pushing him more forcefully into her, pulling him more sharply out of her. The slap of his pelvis against hers grew louder and louder; the squelching of their sexes became more and more wet. She allowed the momentum of his thrusts to roll her further and further onto her back, and he penetrated her more and more deeply, pressed into her clit with more and more of his weight. The orgasm built even more quickly, now, devouring her up, causing her to spasm and shake uncontrollably as he pressed her harder and harder into the seat. She was still swearing in a hoarse, shrill voice when a second orgasm hit, the intensity of it reducing her voice to a slow, silent wail. She arched her back, pressing up into him, her grasping white-knuckled fingers pinching into Troy's ass. His voice was there, with her, hot and wet in her ear, telling her just how strongly and sharply and massively he felt for her, until her grip on him slackened.

Her face felt hot. Her whole being felt hot. She ached. But the heat didn't lessen her need for the friction of his form against hers, and the pleasure she and Troy were building together settled into the knots and pinches and strains of her body, smoothing them out. Troy was panting deeply now, and Britta could feel the coiled tension that had built up in the muscles of his ass. He was unrelenting, gliding in and out of her, his jaw clenching in time with his thrusts.

Time seemed, for a moment, to slip away, as she came under him again. She felt herself freeze there, right at the peak, at the moment where she surrendered herself over to the hot, white oblivion that opened up inside her. It seemed to go on forever, to absorb everything else into it. Her desperately in need of a tune up car. The parking lot. Greendale. Her past. All of it faded out, leaving just them, together, holding each other in that moment.

But then Troy's cock pulsed inside her. She felt it spasm and contract as it sputtered, splashing the inside of her walls in something hot and wet and sticky. He lowered her gently back onto the cushions before collapsing onto his haunches, panting. He just sat there for a moment, watching her. She tried and failed to push herself up onto her elbows, her shaky arms unable to support her own weight. Moving was... difficult. And not worth it. So she gazed back at Troy, hoping her expression came close to reflecting the amount of adoration she saw in his eyes.

She'd done this before: tried to shut down the pain and uncertainty and fear with sex. She'd done it a lot, actually, if she was honest with herself. And usually it worked, at least for the brief period of time when she rubbed her genitals, desperately, against another's. It was usually in the time after, in the quiet lull that came after they'd both come (if she was lucky), that those feelings would return with a vengeance. They'd bring their friends. They'd tell her she was a freak, a slut, a damaged little idiot who tried to make her world seem a little less bleak by fucking the closest, most emotionally damaged man she could find.

She didn't feel that way now. She didn't feel that way with him.

"Come... cuddle..." she finally got out, after gasping uselessly for a while. He crawled over, slowly, and collapsed next to her, one arm circling her hips. Britta shifted her head enough so that she could look at him, panting and pressing his forehead into the car seat next to her. "I love you..." she repeated again, whispering as she shut her eyes, a smile spreading across her face.

She felt Troy's hand lightly brush against her sex. "So messy..." he murmured, his finger collecting a dollop of his cream from inside of her. She heard his lips smack and then it was back, digging into her folds again, squelching in and out of her.

"That's... that's biology for you..." Britta said, sleepily, her eyes rolling back behind closed lids as she pressed herself into his hand, stretching out as much as she could in the confines of her backseat. "It tends to get pretty... messy..."

"I feel like... I feel like I should do something about that..." he said, pushing her shirt up over her bra and kissing down her body. "Like I should... clean up after myself." She blinked her eyes back open and watched, blearily, as he pushed the front seats up as far as they would go and crawled down into the expanded legroom. It put his face on an even level with her well fucked cunt, but it looked like a tight fit.

Britta thought about Duncan had said, earlier. She thought about Oedipus, and wombs.

She giggled. He looked at her confusedly, grinning too. "Okay... just... go slow," she licked her lips, felt how thick and bruised they were. "I'm feeling really... sensitive..."

He lifted her left leg and draped it over his shoulder, pulling her closer. Grumbling a little at having to move, she scooched towards him, shifting into a half reclining position, resting her shoulders against the door's armrest.

He laughed, his hands caressing up and down her inner thighs. "I love how cute you get when you're sleepy. " She whined at him, loving and hating that he was torturing her like this. He kissed, slowly, up the inside of her leg, his arms snaking behind her and circling her ass, hugging it closer to him as he pressed his nose into the thick nest of her pubic hair, just above her engorged clit. He breathed deep, the rushing air tickling at her bud as he pulled it in through his flaring nostrils, desperate, as if it wasn't oxygen that sustained him but instead her scent. Britta could smell it too. The air around them was thick with the smell of it, of her musk. And his. And their's together, mingling; twirling and curling around each other in the confines of this small metal chassis, just like the faint wisps of smoke that still hovered around the roof of the car.