AN: This is a response to dustedoffanoldie's request for a modern AU where Sybil loses her virginity and it doesn't go so well. I put it up on tumblr but thought I'd post it here as well. This particular fic is more gritty realism (though not too gritty) than idealized romance, so if you're expecting unicorns and rainbows you will probably be disappointed. :)

Sneaking out of the house is dead easy. She's done it a hundred times before. The moon is out, making things look all silvery and fantastical, and it lights her way to the end of the drive where he's waiting under the trees in his gargantuan beast of a car. Seriously, the thing must be twenty feet long. He's turned it off - it guzzles about a liter of petrol a minute, even at an idle - but it coughs to life as she approaches the passenger door. Before she can reach for the handle he's leaned over and pushed it open for her.

"Hi, love," he says, giving her that smile. Sybil can still remember the first time she saw it, beaming out the window of this very car. Normally she ignores men who try to talk to her in the street, but that smile, those eyes, were un-ignorable.

"Hi," she returns, her voice husky from not speaking since she "felt ill" and "went to bed." Then he reaches over and pulls her across the seat and his mouth is on hers, sucking the breath from her throat. He's caught her on an exhale and she's seeing yellow stars burst in her vision by the time he lets her go.

"Mmm," he murmurs, and leans in again, and part of her just wants to sit here and snog for a while but they're still too close to the house for her comfort.

"We should go," she says.

"Whatever you say." He smiles at her again and drives off, adjusting the radio. There's a tape player - a tape player! - but it's broken.

He drives deeper into the countryside, past wheat-fields and pastures where sheep and cows roam during the day. She's been to his flat in Ripon a handful of times, but he seemed ill at ease having her there, seeing how he lives. And they don't have much time: it's a school night, after all.

The road tunnels into a wood, the overarching trees blotting out the moonlight. With the foliage closed in around them the glare of the headlamps is suddenly much more intense, and Tom switches off the brights. Sybil studies him surreptitiously in the glow from the instrument panel. He's absorbed in his task, eyes fixed on the road. The turnoff is hard to see and even at full concentration he almost misses it. They only discovered it a couple of weeks ago, but already it's their spot.

He drives down the rutted dirt track until it ends in a small clearing: years ago there was a house here. But now all that's left are the broken rocks of the foundation, heaped higher where the chimney was. He pulls the car under the spreading branches of a single tree standing alone in the middle of the clearing and turns it off, leaving the key turned back so they'll have the music.

"Alone at last," he cracks, but his voice has an eager undertone to it.

"Yep." Sybil smiles, feeling a tingling rush of adrenaline deep in her belly, one she's come to associate with him. He unbuckles his seatbelt and in one fluid movement slips between the seat backs and into the backseat, where he lounges across it, smirking an invitation. The silvery light from the window catches his face, making Sybil think of what Mary said after the time she caught them talking: He does have bedroom eyes, I'll give him that.

Sybil doesn't quite know what that means, but she does know they're irresistible. She clambers back to sit beside him and soon she's straddling his lap, his hands threaded into her hair. She could do this all day, all year: his lips are so soft on hers.

But he is not as patient. He's not used to dating someone so much younger, if you could call what they're doing dating. He's taken her to see a few films, though they never seem to watch the end. But mostly their relationship has consisted of stolen moments like these, and they make the most of them. Sybil's not been able to get much out of him concerning his past girlfriends but she imagines them as worldly, beautiful, wearing dark lipstick. In their twenties, like him. They probably didn't ever stop his hand creeping down their knickers, like she's doing now. She moves it onto her hip, but it slides inexorably back into her waistband and he whispers against her mouth "Please," and "Trust me," and kisses her with such sweetness that her head swims and Sybil finds herself murmuring an assent. He undoes her jeans with practiced ease and his hand moves downward and she starts thinking about what she decided in her room earlier, what she's been turning over in her mind for weeks now: it's high time she lost her virginity. What's the point of delaying? Some stupid idea of purity? "True love waits"? Well, she reasoned, what if your true love turns out to be rubbish at having sex?

The decision was the easy part. The difficulty is getting over her nerves. She thought she would just come out with Tom tonight and see how things went; they appear to be moving along at an impressive rate. His hand is busy inside her knickers and it feels all right, she supposes. He seems to be having a much better time than she is, groaning and kissing her neck, and she can feel his hot hardness against her, but the positioning is awkward and she's self-conscious - is she clean enough? She's never had to worry about these things before.

"I love you, Sybil," he whispers into her ear. "God... I love you so much." He sounds like he's dreaming, like he's drunk, even though she knows he's not.

He removes his hand from her jeans and pulls back a bit to take her face in his hands and he looks at her as if he's just asked a very important question. Drowning in his lovely eyes, she whispers back "I love you too." She means it wholeheartedly.

Apparently that's the answer he's been waiting for. Somehow she ends up lying on the seat with him on top of her. His hand slides underneath her bra, teasing her nipple in a way that would be exciting if she weren't so nervous, and he must be able to feel the way her heart's pounding because he asks, "Are you sure you want to? It's all right if you're not," though he's pawing her at the same time.

She can barely get up the breath to reply "I'm sure." Tom takes off his jeans and his underwear - he leaves his socks on, and Sybil's too tonguetied to object - and then hers, and even though it's a warm night the leather of the seat is shockingly cold against her bum. Then he's got to dig in his clothes for the condom, and she glances away while he puts it on, and then it's time and she just wants it to be over already, hymen broken, the box checked: let's move on, shall we?

But when he goes to put it in she feels a sharp burning sensation that makes her gasp involuntarily and bite her lip. "Ow!"

"Sorry," he grunts, and shifts, and tries again, but the pain doesn't get better; if anything it's worse. He keeps pushing in, though, and she tries to bear it, thinking it'll go away at any moment. It doesn't.

"Are you... in yet?" She asks, teeth gritted.

"I don't think so." He moves and she sucks her breath through her teeth. "Shit," he mutters, reaching down to adjust himself, to feel her. He's quivering, both with effort and with arousal.

He moves forward again and this time she can feel him come fully into her. It still hurts, but not quite as much as before. You can do this, she thinks.

He smiles down at her awkwardly. "All right?"

"Yeah." She gives him a smile that she hopes will reassure him, even though she herself is far from comfortable.

He kisses the tip of her nose, then her mouth, and he starts to move rhythmically and it's not so bad, it only hurts a little. The whole time he's caressing her cheeks and her hair and following the touch of his hands with kisses. Every so often he'll say her name and as it goes on the pain becomes less and less until it's mostly gone. After a while his movements grow more intense and he buries his face in her neck and his arms tighten around her and she feels more than hears his drawn-out groan against her skin.

He sighs and grows heavy on top of her, but only for a moment. Then he props himself up on his arms and kisses her again and tells her he loves her.

"I love you," she says, for the second time.