Disclaimer: I don't own Community.

Advanced Studies in Automotive Care

Chapter 1

Jeff POV

Remember the rush the first time you made a touchdown, or the first time a girl let you fuck her into oblivion? Remember the way your blood pumped so viscously that it rang in your ears and your heart thumped so hard in your chest that you thought you might pass out?

It's like that, only better.

I remember my first crash. I was barely even present for it, the adrenaline had lifted me so far out of my body. I was racing down the empty freeway at 3 AM with my buddy on my tail. He was weaving between lanes without care, doing anything to gain momentum, to get an edge on me—but he couldn't. I was gone, soaring over the slick pavement at 115 mph, barely noticing the blur of the trees as they whizzed by. The race ended so suddenly—one moment I was bracing for a curve and the next the car was flipping end over end, eventually coming to a hard landing in a ditch. I was thrown through the windshield and landed about fifteen feet away. I'm told I was conscious when they found me, but I didn't think that was possible; it didn't hurt. Nothing hurt. All I could feel was incredible adrenaline coursing through my veins, making me hyper, crazed. All I wanted was to get back in the car and go again.

A few hours later, that seemed like a bad idea, as I had been admitted to the hospital and fitted with numerous casts and bandages. But even as I laid in the hospital bed in agony, I couldn't forget the rush. It was incredible, and I knew I had to find it again.

And so began my journey into the racing underworld, where bets were made, laws were broken and people were killing and being killed just for the right to race fast cars. Maybe it sounds stupid, or juvenile, but at sixteen both of those words would have been acceptable adjectives to describe me. Now, at 35, I'm more than just the idiot kid with the racing fetish—I'm the leader. I say who's in and who's out and who gets to race when. I get a cut of every race that goes through our ring, and I get the glory that comes with it. If you still think this is stupid, you're welcome to step in front of my Viper when I gun it down a deserted back road.

Of course, I can't run this joint alone. Every great syndicate needs a loyal team, and mine is second to none.

Abed is my reader. He has a sense about people that I've always been slightly afraid of, and that's what makes him so valuable. Not only does he know if they're great drivers, he also knows if they're loyal. He knows if they'll turn on us as soon as someone offers them a better deal. He's cold, calculating, and he won't hesitate to put a bullet in anyone who steps out of line. He's my right-hand man in every race negotiation.

Pierce is my backer. If you're wondering how I became the leader of Greendale's underworld, this is your answer: Pierce ran the place before I showed up 19 years ago. He was old then, but wasn't ready to give up the throne until he knew he'd found someone he could trust to keep it running. His money started this place, and keeps it running to this day. He taught me to drive, he taught me to lie and he taught me to kill. Nearly every necessary skill I possess, I learned from Pierce. If I had a dad—and I don't—he'd be it.

Shirley is my technician. I've never met another person who knows the inner workings of a car like her. She's brilliant in every sense of the word, and can make any heap of crap into a top-notch racer. She once maxed out a Sedan at 160 after working on it for 17 minutes. That woman is the reason we have the best fleet in the field.

Last, but definitely not least are Troy and Britta, my stars. They drive better than anyone I've ever met... well, except myself. Britta can negotiate a 120 degree turn at 170 miles per hour without breaking a sweat, and Troy is the only person I know who can keep a Lamborghini grounded at 200. Between them, I have a perfect win record.

Well, until recently.

You see, for every great syndicate, there is an equally great rival. Ours is a smaller group led by Ben Chang, or, as he requires people to call him, El Tigre. His team is nowhere near as good as mine, but he has one thing on me that I've never been able to match.

Annie Edison.

Edison is a better driver than Troy and Britta put together—she may even be better than me. She's fast, she's cunning, and she's ruthless. I've lost more than a few drivers during some of the more intense races with her. She outsmarts people more than she out-drives them. One moment you think you're in the free-and-clear and suddenly she's alongside you, forcing you headlong into the ditch. Her method is a mind game, fraught with intricacies that I haven't been able to figure out.

Chang brought Edison in from Tampa where she was part of a larger, more renowned group of racers led by Starburns, a coke dealer who had cash burning a hole in his pocket and a fetish for fast cars. Down there he had made a much bigger spectacle of what was supposed to be an underground venture and ended up getting arrested, along with the majority of his team. Edison, though... Edison was too smart for the Tampa PD. She was too innocent and unassuming to be associated with dirt like Starburns. She wore cardigans and miniskirts and wore a backpack with special compartments for her pens and highlighters. The cops had tried to get evidence enough to convict her, but somehow she came out of it squeaky clean, and ran for the hills as soon as she was cleared to leave the state.

When she arrived in Colorado, Chang wasted no time scooping her up. I'd heard about her exploits in Tampa, but that little bastard was faster than me. He got her, and I got screwed. I went from 10-0 to 10-4 in less than a month. I had always been the odds on favourite for bookies and rookie betters, and suddenly I was losing cash flow because of El Tigre and his bitch of a new driver.

Edison was a royal pain in my ass.

Which was precisely what brought me to the course this summer, standing among the crowd of smelly betters, taking in my first Edison race. I don't spend much time actually watching the races anymore. The sidelines are no place for a guy like me—I need to be behind the wheel to feel the thrill that racing used to bring me. The only reason I was there was to see this chick in action, and figure out what the hell to do about her before our next race.

The location was a dirt road on the outskirts of Greendale. Edison was racing a wannabe from a lower syndicate in town that was doing its damndest to become noteworthy. They were like the hat club of racing teams—useless, but loud and obnoxious all the same. They had a few mildly talented racers, like Magnitude and Vicki; those two defected from my group when the leader of this upstart offered them a place in his elite. It wasn't much of a loss, considering the quality of my remaining racers, but it still pissed me off; I had been training Vicki personally, if you know what I mean.

I watched the scene in front of me unfold, as Magnitude revved his engine like the show-off he had always been. I couldn't see Edison behind the tinted windows her car sported, but she was doing no showboating to offset the idiot next to her. Suddenly a gunshot was fired, and a cloud of dust was kicked up behind Magnitude's car as he floored the gas, wheels spinning in place for a good two seconds before he actually started moving. Edison, on the other hand, moved immediately, actually setting her car into motion before flooring it and quickly taking the lead.

Watching something so simple as her opening move enthralled me. Though I hate to admit it, even I have a tendency to squeal the tires at the beginning of a race, the adrenaline overtaking the more logical parts of my brain. I could see very quickly that Edison was not a slave to her most basic instincts—a quality that was very valuable in a racer.

Moments after the two cars disappeared down the road, one could be seen returning at top speed. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened two miles down the road—it was the same thing that always happened when Edison raced an overzealous idiot. Magnitude was no-doubt sitting in a ditch somewhere, scratching his head and wondering what the hell just happened, and Edison had made the 180 degree turn with ease and cruised back to the starting line.

I bit back a nasty retort to the nearest member of the crowd when they all went wild as Edison brought her overheated engine to a much-needed stop. Despite my less-than-friendly feelings toward Magnitude, I would have liked to see someone, anyone beat this little bitch from Tampa who was ruining my business. I bit my tongue and tried to focus on my real motivation for going to the race that day. I was determined to leave that course with a new driver.

When Edison stepped out of the car, I couldn't help the smirk that made it onto my face. This chick was hot. Beyond hot. She had long, dark brown hair, crystalline blue eyes, and pink puffy lips that begged for debauchery. She was exactly the kind of girl that I knew how to work—and hey, if it meant I'd have to fuck the competition, I'd be happy to take one for the team. I stood back and watched the crowd surge toward her, showering her with praise which she took with a small, confident smile.

I waited for a good 15 minutes for the crowd to disperse before making my way in. By then she was examining her car for bumps and bruises. I watched her for a moment as she took inventory of every knick. It was almost sweet, the way she cared about the machine. It reminded me of the intimate relationship I had with my Viper.

I shook that thought away as I approached her.

"You've got some good moves, kid." She looked up at me, startled. I put on my kindest smile, hoping to disarm her. "Jeff Winger," I introduced myself, holding out my hand. She looked at it for a moment before reaching forward and grasping it with her own. She had a firm grip. It wasn't commensurate with the yellow cardigan and flowered skirt she was wearing—though, neither was her driving.

"Annie Edison." I offered a small chuckle, which I hoped she found as sexy as most other women did.

"Oh, I know who you are. You're the girl who's wiping the floor with my drivers," I told her. She tried very hard to hide the cocky smile that wanted to break onto her face, but I caught a flash of it before she sobered.

"Is Magnitude one of yours?" she asked. I scoffed.

"Magnitude? No—he's with a crap team out of eastern Greendale. I run the north and west sides."

"Greendale's not very big. Do you really need to split it up by geography?"

"It's either that or by elementary school alliances, which sort of broke down once we all got to Riverside High." She laughed softly. It had a very pleasant musical lilt to it that I quite liked. She seemed to be more at ease with me now. "I'm actually surprised you haven't heard of me. I figured working for Chang he would have filled you in." She shrugged.

"I guess he didn't think it was that big a deal." I couldn't tell if she was baiting me, or genuinely in the dark.

"I guess it isn't then," I said, fighting back my ego in efforts to keep her talking. "So tell me about your car. It handles ridiculously well on soft ground." She beamed, clearly very proud of her car; it was endearing. She spent the next ten minutes telling me everything there was to know about her Mustang—an old rescue that she helped rebuild and mould into racing form. I listened with rapt attention, both because I wanted to build a rapport with her, and also because something about the way she explained rebuilding an engine turned me on to no end.

As she explained each part of her car, she led me around it, showing me as she went. She dragged her fingers across the exterior in a manner that was almost sensual, allowing them to float over the curves and dip into the crevices. When she finally finished, we were back at the front of the vehicle, and she was leaning casually against the hood. I stayed silent for a moment, mainly because I was aroused by her intimate knowledge of her car, and honestly didn't know what to say.

"Are you impressed?" she asked after a moment.

"I am." I reached down and ran my hand gently over the hood. She watched it go, and her mouth opened ever so slightly as I dragged it back toward us, allowing it to come to rest just a hairs-breadth from where her hip was in contact with the hood. "It's beautiful," I said, staring directly at her. I watched her eyes flick from mine, to my hand, and then slowly up my torso before finally resting on my mouth. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and wet her lips.

"It is," she whispered. She looked up to my eyes once more. "Would you like to see the inside?"

"Depends. What kind of interiors do you have?" I tried to play as cool as I could, realizing that getting to Annie would be much, much easier than I had anticipated. She was practically handing herself over to me on a silver platter. Chang could kiss his brief time in the winner's circle goodbye.

"All leather upholstery," she whispered, stepping a little closer to me. I swallowed hard. As much as I wanted to be in control of this little moment, it was becoming harder and harder to do so with her looking up at me the way she was, and pressing her body against mine just enough to make me want to grab her ass and grind myself into her.

"Easy to clean up." My arms circled her waist, mainly because her proximity made it impossible not to. She wrapped her arms around my neck.

"I like my seats to be able to take a good beating." I couldn't quite account for the sound that emanated from my chest—a grunt, or a growl, or some variation of the two, as I surged forward and claimed her lips. They were exactly as soft as I imagined, and pliable beneath mine. She opened her mouth and sucked in my lower lip, biting down with a ferocity that sent a wave of arousal through my whole body. Together, we stumbled around to the side of the car, and I forced her against the passenger side door, finally grinding my arousal into her, loving the way she lifted herself up to meet me and push back.

Eventually we managed to pull ourselves off of each other long enough to open the door to the back seat. Annie gave me a light push and I slid into the seat where she immediately joined me, climbing into my lap and slamming the door behind us. Now, with her hips flush against mine, I allowed myself to fully explore her body, pushing away material where it became a barrier. Her cardigan was the first thing to go, followed quickly by her blouse and bra. She made quick work of the buttons on my shirt, pushing it off my shoulders and wrapping her arms around my neck, allowing me to feel her hot skin against mine.

The feel of her against me was almost too much. Needing to feel all of her, I reached under her skirt and tugged her panties down. She kicked them off while simultaneously undoing the button and zipper on my jeans and pulling my erection out from my underwear. I didn't have to do anything more, as she quickly reclaimed her seat in my lap, and in two short dips, took me inside of her completely.

She was so wet and so tight that I nearly lost it right away. I grabbed her by the hips and held her down on me for a moment while I regained my bearings, kissing her soundly to silence her protests before allowing her to start moving.

The pace she set was fast and hard, rising and landing on top of me with a desperate need that matched my own. I began to meet her with thrusts of my own, as much as I was able to in the cramped back seat of her Mustang.

"Fuck, Annie," I grunted, pushing up into her as hard as I could. She let out a moan that was so insanely sexy that I could barely keep from coming on the spot as it vibrated through her body and into mine. I sunk down in the seat a little more, giving myself some more room to thrust up into her harder. I was so close, and I could tell by the look of pure ecstasy on her face that she was too.

She began to ride me harder and faster than before, a feat I wasn't sure was even possible. I decided to sit back and watch the show for a moment, trying to commit as much of this moment as I possibly could to memory: a gorgeous brunette bouncing up and down on my dick, breasts joining in the rhythm, inside of one of the sexiest cars I'd ever seen. This was what wet dreams were made of. I lifted her skirt so I could see myself going in and out of her, and the visual was so purely erotic that I felt my orgasm begin to build.

I grabbed her by the hips and began thrusting up violently into her as she came down on me with as much force as she could muster. The sounds in the car were a mix of wetness, slapping, moans and grunts from both of us, and I could feel her tightening around me as I became nearer and nearer to my own climax. Just as I was about to lose it entirely, she began contracting around me, her face forming the most magnificent look of pure ecstasy that I'd ever seen. As she pulsed around me, I could no longer contain myself. With three hard thrusts I exploded inside of her, grunting her name with each motion.

As she came down for her orgasm, she ground her clit against me, finding a friction that quickly brought her up a second time. I watched in exhausted awe as she used my body for her own pleasure in the sexiest way. If I'd had anything else in me, I probably would have come for a second time.

After her second orgasm she slumped against me, resting her head on my shoulder as she breathed hard.

The car was hot, and the tinted windows were covered with the steam we had created. Both of us were slippery with sweat as we peeled ourselves away from one another and corrected our clothing situations before lazily opening the door and pulling ourselves out into the fresh air. If I was a smoker, I'd have probably lit a cigarette.

"That was pretty fucking amazing," I told her honestly. She laughed lightly and nodded her agreement. I braced myself for the pitch. "We should do this again. What do you think about joining my team? We could spend some more time together."

I know what I expected. Annie was young, and had just been thoroughly fucked. Any other girl like her would have fallen all over me and jumped at the opportunity to be more than just a one night stand. Annie though... well... she laughed at me.

"Please, Winger," she scoffed. "You don't really think I wasn't aware this whole time what you were trying to do here?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, trying my best to keep my poker face, despite being stunned by her abrupt change of demeanour.

"Chang told me all about you. I knew who you were the moment you showed up here in your designer jeans and with your perfectly over-styled bedhead." I felt my opportunity to stick it to Chang slipping away.

"But you slept with me." It wasn't much, but it was all I had. She just laughed made her way over to the driver's side door, opening it and looking over the car at me.

"Eh, I work for Chang, but I fuck who I want," she winked at me ... the cocky little bitch actually winked at me. "Thanks for the lay, Winger. I'll see you on the road."

I was left stunned as she climbed into the debauched Mustang, gunned the engine, and peeled away. I had been outsmarted by a 21 year old girl.

This was more than just business. This was personal.

~~

A/N: This is going to be my first attempt at a multi-chapter Community fic, and also my first attempt at something completely AU in this fandom. Hope you liked it!