He said they'd hook up later, tomorrow. Twenty minutes after Liz and TJ left, he found himself sitting at his kitchen table with a Heineken, staring at his bed. Staring, barely blinking, thinking about the woman who was supposed to be in it with him.
The clock on the microwave read 11:03. Jesus, Liz and TJ had taken forever to leave. The crying, the making up, the understanding, the apologizing… it was quite a production. They eventually went home hand in hand, no worse for the wear. Luke looked at the clock again. 11:04.
She'd still be up. He grabbed his jacket.
He knocked once, twice, three times. With authority. The lights in the living room were dim, probably only a lamp or two was lit. He knocked a fourth time, squirming in his boots.
A light in the foyer flickered on. He saw her silhouette through the glass. He squirmed again.
."What's up?" The door flung open. Green sweatpants and a white David Bowie t-shirt.
Words weren't necessarily, he felt. He stepped inside, kissing her long and hard. He breathed a "Hey" and kissed her again.
He kissed her up against a wall. That's the kind of kissing this was. The kind where the two bodies entangled in each other and little oxygen was sucked in. Her breasts were in his hands; her breath was caught in her throat.
She asked him why he came over, he said he couldn't wait till his promised "later". They pressed foreheads. She said she was a class act, that she wanted to go upstairs. So they did.
Clothes had been striped. She had showered when she got home; she smelt like a peach and to him, tasted like one. He grinded on top of her, in his favourite red boxers, kissing every inch of her face, neck and chest. She whimpered, he groaned.
Her unlatched bra was tossed to the ground. Her bare breasts filled his hands and mouth.
She cupped his package. He choked. But that's not what was happening right now was it? He moved into her for a second, and then retreated and met her eyes. "Not this time" is what he said. She grinned. Oh my god did she grin.
His fingers traced across her pelvic bone and slipped into her vagina. "Jesus Luke" She whispered in his ear. He rubbed, and rubbed in all the right places. Gently. Slowly. She asked if this is what he came over for. He nodded and kissed her.
He was gone under the covers, kissing at trail down to her pelvis. She squirmed now. Gentle kisses landed all across her thighs, landed on her most moist area. His tongue moved in, sucking and licking and tasting and nibbling until her hands in his hair nearly balded him. Toes curled.
Pleasured sounds filled Lorelai's room. Both parties made these sounds. Anytime the scene almost ended, Luke moved out, gave her a second, and went back. She came, punctured the built up bubble of tense heat in the room. She stretched and moaned and laughed and smiled and moaned and stroked his hair. He didn't stop doing what he was doing. She whimpered, pleased beyond belief and couldn't help but move her hips in the sexiest rhythm he'd ever, ever been witness of.
Kissed all around her thighs. Sucked everyplace. Kissed everyplace. His tongue was everyway, sensually torturing her. He moved up, back to her upper body. Kissing until he took her lips back to his.
She told him she had no words. He didn't stop. His penis rubbed against where his mouth had just been. She gasped. That's not what he came here to do, necessarily. "Plan?" Her voice was hoarse.
"This," He disappeared beneath the sheets again, clitoris in mouth. Her following two orgasm woke the dead.
"The most selfless man," She told him afterward, rubbing his ribs lightly. "I can't believe this. My mind is numb. Try to grab my hand, I'm numb,"
He smiled and kissed her. He physically couldn't stop kissing her. Nothing could make him stop. His heart was so full for her. The novelty of kissing Lorelai Gilmore had ceased to wear off. He didn't think it ever would.
"Are we still on for tomorrow? You owe me dinner,"
He laughed a yes. He smiled, stared at her until she kissed him, and said she meant everything to him.