Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the WB, Amy Sherman-Palladino or her and her husbands creation Gilmore Girls.
Spoiler Warning(s): Keg! Max! Here Comes the Son.
Rated: R for adult language and displays of affection.
She Says
Chapter One: Fata Morgana
In my mind I go back to that night, where she teases me in kindness. In my mind I change things, I don't feel like the world is falling down around me and I'm the only one aware of the chunks of sky lying on the floor. I ignore the gaping holes in the roof of the house, party people oblivious and satiated in their high school buzz. I am restless and acutely aware of everything from the blonde on the couch rocking herself like a child, to the pallor of the bass players skin, to the creeping itch of the stubble on my upper lip. She stumbles over to me after introducing the band. She thinks everything is okay. I'm dying though, dying slow but sure watching the color of her eyes get softer and softer when she tries to read me. I won't let her in, but I want to so badly.
In my mind the metallic click of the key on her belt is like a chime to my senses. Goosebumps forming on her arms when she pulls her jacket off and tosses it on the chair I sat in for a third of the night. Her throat is soft. She hums deep and slow. In my mind her bra is blue and soft on my nose and lips. She whispers my name, her breathing labored, clutching the back of my head –– gently pulling my hair. The skin of her breasts is cool and smooth, when I pull one strap down after removing her top she let's go of me, reaching behind her unhooking the clasp. It falls limp down her shoulders. I stare.
In my mind I lay my head over her heart and listen to the strong rapid beat sounding through her chest. She giggles when I run my hands down her sides, dragging her bra down and off her body. She finds the open folds of my jacket where she starts to push the folds farther apart, smiling up at me when I pull away and yank my arms out of its sleeves letting it fall to the floor.
"Smooth." She says in a sarcastic voice.
"You makin' fun of me?" I retort playfully.
"Yes." She answers.
"Good." I say, "Just making sure."
Her intake of breath is sharp when I lick and nip the side of breast. Taking her pale nipple into my mouth, I roll the tip against my tongue and the inside of my lip. Gauging her reactions by her breath coming in shallow and slow, my eyes stay focused on her face. Her mouth going slack forming a small O. She's holding onto my head again, coaxing and pulling when I hit the right spot.
She breathes out in frustration when I pull away, getting a better view of her flushed cheeks, her eyes clouded over and almost fully dilated. In my mind I feel like I should say something, take the opportunity to justify my actions, just tell her how I feel. I love you, I appreciate you, you're beautiful, just –– fucking beautiful. But I keep my mouth shut, and kiss her. I put everything I have into that kiss, trying to convey all that I feel towards her. Her kindness, her intelligence, her beauty. Everything that made me want to pursue her. It's a poor substitute.
In my mind she shudders when my lips pass over her ribcage and belly. I can feel her watching me. Like before the click of her belt is a chime, I unbuckle it slowly, watching her eyes. She reaches out for the key that falls off, handing it to her. She pockets it and smiles.
"Why'd you put it there anyway?" I ask.
"No handbag, mom's idea, didn't want to lose it."
"Huh, good idea." I say.
"Thought so too." She says. I smile at her, feeling awkward in our exchange of words, there's no skirting around what we're in the process of doing.
In my mind I move away from her and lock the door. Turning back to the bed she's moved, now with her head on one of Kyle's parents' many pink throw pillows. She leans forward and pulls me down next to her a serious expression on her face.
"We should take off our shoes." She whispers, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, the serious expression not leaving her face. "Wouldn't want to get dirt all over the comforter."
She rolls on top of me, straddling my hips. I was not expecting that.
"Don't you think we should take off our shoes?" She asks, bending down over me, a hand on either side of my head. I have a perfect view of her breasts, she moves closer almost nose to nose.
"Hmm?" She prompts.
"Yes." I answer.
She leans back reaching for my shoes I take the cue and bend my knees giving her better access. She starts to untie them, her breasts wobbling, this is fascinating to me. She grunts and pulls dropping each shoe onto the floor. She starts on her blue Converse, joining mine with twin thuds.
"See isn't that better?" She quips.
"Uh huh." I pull her down my hands wrapped around her waist. She teases my lips with hers.
"Much better." I say after a few tentative kisses.
Watching her hands bunching up the hem of my shirt, in my mind her fingers are warm stroking the skin of my belly and chest making my breath hitch. She touches me with curious un callused hands –– I know I don't deserve her. She's becoming insistent, urging me forward whipping my shirt over my head. She snickers, running her fingers through my hair smoothing parts of it back up. I reach out and start on her jeans, the zipper making a satisfying zip!
"Hold on." she says, crawling off me to stand next to the bed. She peels her jeans off kicking them into a dark corner. I'm not surprised, but her underwear matches the bra lying at the foot of the bed. She stands unabashed arms at her sides, bare-chested in simple blue underpants, her nipples hard and pink, her left breast still glistening with my saliva. My mouth starts to salivate taking in the sight of her standing half naked and aroused with evidence of me shining her breast.
A cliché remark is on the tip of my tongue but I hold it. I think she's beautiful –– I have no idea if she knows that. Nonverbal communication has always been my thing, packaged slow blinks and sensual licking of my lips always seemed fake to me. She's still standing by the side of the bed staring me down –– a look of rapt conviction on her face. She's not backing down. For months I've been avoiding the subject of sex with her fearing her skittishness but now –– now the act of it is inevitable.
She sidles back onto the bed, settling herself on my thighs. I feel dumb. In my mind I reach for my fly undoing the row of buttons, each metal tab making a muffled popping sound. Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop! Like a demented scale on a dying piano. She reaches out to help drag my jeans off but I stop her hands, squeezing her fingers gently.
"You have to get off." My voice doesn't sound like mine. Strangled. She nods, rolling next to me. I can't decide if I should get up and take them off, or go for the pulling kicking method. I roll off the bed and peel the damn things off, dragging my boxers down with them. I feel less strangled but a hell of a lot more exposed. She's kneeling on top of the bed her eyes fixed to mine. I lick my lips, I feel like I'm fading slowly into her.
I'm back on the bed, and she's back on top of me. I kiss her like I'm apologizing. It's a scramble after that, a mad session of pulling her underwear off. When she pauses above me, her face flushed, eyes huge, her brown hair falling in her face.
"Do you have anything?" she asks out of nowhere. I didn't even think of that, not even for a second. Which is altogether thoughtless of me considering I know her life story almost a well as my own.
"No." I almost sob.
"Fuck." she whispers exasperated. I don't think I've ever heard her use that word before. She does something even more out of character then, leaning to the side she opens the nightstand, rummaging around. She notices me eyeing her, kind of baffled.
"This is Kyle's parents' room isn't it? I assume they had sex to conceive him and I assume they still... do that." She rolls her eyes at me when I smirk at her, rolling my head into a half nod.
"Shut up and help me." She says, her eyes almost pleading, her voice rough. God, she's turned on. Just when she's given up, I reach into the drawer pulling out a hard cover book, flipping through the pages.
"You want to read? Right now? Are you insane? Wait, what book is it?" I hold the spine up so she can see the title. "The Joy of Sex" she reads out loud. A roll of condoms falls out of the middle of the book.
She's on top of me and I'm inside her. She's wet, she's hot, she's hot and wet and I can feel her heart beating all around me. She's rising, she's falling, she's gripping me tight feeling like a thousand slick fingers. She's breathing, breathing, and I hear my name, my name, my name, my name, my name. I hear my voice too.
"Oh, God. Love... love. Mmm, yeah. Fuck! Love.... love you... love this. God, Rory." I'm kissing her, and feeling her back and her breasts, a hard nipple pinched between my index finger and my thumb, my mouth open and gasping for breath at her throat, kissing, licking, suckling. Her hands on my shoulders, skimming my chest, in my hair. Gripping pulling, cajoling.
"I want." I hear her say, her breath coming out in tiny gasps. "I want." She says again. I watch her face, her lower body moving in tandem with mine. Her eyes closed tight. My hands take hold of her hips, guiding her down harder. She whimpers with every up stroke. I'm to the hilt with each thrust, bumping the end of her. Each time I bump it makes my eyes close and tiny fireworks go off behind my eyelids. One hand leaves her hip, sliding to the juncture of her thighs. I follow the heat through her dark hair. Searching for the spot that will make her reel. "I want you." She breathes, her eyes opening and looking into mine when I find her Clitoris, rubbing my thumb over the nubbin once, twice, three times. "I want... you." she says her body lulling, her mouth going slack, and I'm massaged by a thousands wet fingers. I stop moving, watching her face, letting her come down, her mouth still open. I can't help myself, rolling her onto her back. She cradles me between her thighs, letting me join her again.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes." She nods, her eyes heavy lidded and glazed. She's still tight but relaxed. I look down, seeing us joined, I'm slick with her, this turns me on more. I feel my balls tighten. Burying my head in her shoulder I let the rushing contented sensation come.
"Love you." I exhale.
"Jess?" I hear her. "Jess?" her voice is muffled with an almost far away quality. I roll off her panting, feeling sweat dripping into my eyes and down my nose. I close my eyes keeping the sting of sweat away, mopping up excess moisture with the clammy skin of my forearm. In my mind she's laying next to me, sweat dotting her forehead, chest and belly. The smell of sex pungent in the air.
"Jess!" her voice –– not her voice says. "Jess, stop spacing. You said you were up for Saturday afternoon rush, stop looking at the grill like it holds the secrets of the Universe, you're freakin' me out man. Jesus you're just like Jimmy." Lee says, his pale face coming into focus. Lee, The Inferno –– Santa Monica. Sweat trickles down my back, the dry California heat making my skin itch. "Dude, you were out." Lee says passing by holding a huge package of hot dog buns. "I thought I was gonna have'ta douse you with cold ketchup or somethin'."
"Huh." Fantasies bite, especially when they're ruined by pale red haired guys wearing bandanas.
Authors Note: This is my first Gilmore Girls fan fiction piece. If anybody is feeling generous I would really appreciate some insight into the genre. FYI this is the edited version of Chapter one, thank you Holly for your help! Thank you for reading.