Editor's note: OK, folks! This is where we really start to live up to our M rating. Read at work or in public at your own risk!

There was a sense of plunging into the unknown as they walked into the dark kitchen. They hadn't brought up their loaded discussion a few days earlier, but she knew they had just crossed a line they weren't going to skitter back across. There was enough light from the moon and the lamps from the dining room that Luke was easily able to find the coffee machine and the right supplies without having to turn on the lights.

"You don't have a grinder," he said, more to fill the empty space than a criticism.

"Not since Sookie got her apron strings caught in it," Lorelai said as she boosted herself onto one of the worktables. "We're still grateful it wasn't one of her fingers, though Michel didn't stop making snide comments for days."

Luke frowned into the can of coffee. He didn't drink the stuff, but he at least made sure it was good for those who did drink it. With a resigned shrug, he measured out ground coffee and adjusted spices to doctor it. At least the brand was better than the one kept in the clubhouse.

"Liz said you started cooking when you guys were kids. Tiny Iron Chef?" Lorelai teased.

"More like necessity." Luke flipped the machine on and turned his back to it so he could watch her. She had dressed in clothes meant to handle a long overnight shift: soft slacks, a colorful, but comfortable shirt, minimal jewelry. She had fished a hair tie out of her pocket and had pulled her hair back while he prepared the coffee. "But it wasn't bad. I like doing it. I think it helped me earn my keep a time or two with the team."

He folded his arms across his chest, giving a half smile at the tile floor. "It's rough for rookies. A lot of baseball's hurry up and wait, but it's even worse when you're just in the major leagues. I was 21, and so damn eager to prove myself. So, I took over the kitchen at the clubhouse and decided to go around it that way."

Lorelai straightened abruptly. "Oh. Oh!"

Luke frowned. "What?"

"Wait. Wait right here!" Lorelai leaped off the table and sped from the room so fast that he wondered if he said something to offend her. Before he could start fretting over it too much, she was back with her wallet in hand. She flipped it open, digging into the compartment behind her driver's license. She pulled out a slightly worn baseball card and flashed it at him. He was stunned to see it was a picture of himself his first year with the Sox. His first card.

"Where'd you get that?" he managed.

"Your dad. I found it on the sidewalk outside the hardware store. Rory was three. We took it inside, and he had a whole box of them." Lorelai handed the card to him, and Luke stared at himself as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "He told us to keep it. He said it would bring us luck."

"That sounds like him." He ran a finger down the front of the card before looking up at her, cradling her cup in both hands. "And has it?"

"Yeah," Lorelai said softly, her eyes dark and intense. Luke wasn't sure what she saw when she looked at him, but it was enough for her to set the untouched cup of coffee aside, frame his face between her hands, and kiss him. It felt like a scene out of a movie: the soft, dreamy kiss, the way his arm stole around her waist, and they moved almost as if they were waltzing. She was right. The universe had put all the pieces into motion for this to happen. He didn't believe in horoscopes, astrology, or all that shit. But he believed in her.

She pulled away, and he tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. Silently, her hands moved to buttons of the dress shirt he wore, having never bothered to change out of his post-game clothes. She smoothed her hands over his chest, directly above his frantically beating heart, before taking the baseball card from him and setting it next to her wallet.

"Are you sure?" The words came out of her mouth, not his, and it humbled him. He knew what she was asking, and it was about far more than sex. He was letting someone in again, but he couldn't find the words to tell her that she'd already stormed her way into his heart from that very first message on his answering machine. She deserved someone who could give her the words.

"The condom in my wallet actually has a current expiration date," he admitted, and she laughed.

"I'm on the pill." She finished with his shirt, and it fluttered to the ground. "Clean as a whistle."

A doctor's visit had been the first thing he'd done after learning about Anna's duplicity. "Same."

"Definite sexy talk right there," she teased.

It was far sexier than not talking about it at all, and he told her this with another deep kiss as he found the buttons of her shirt. He wondered if she cared if his hands were shaking, because god, he couldn't get them to stop. He didn't even think he had been this nervous when he lost his virginity. Granted, that had happened in a happy alcohol-soaked haze, and he was stone-cold sober now. He nearly asked her if they could break into the inn's liquor supply, but then he parted her shirt and all the saliva in his mouth promptly dried up.

He remembered the last time they were like this, when he ached to worship her breasts but hadn't allowed himself to do so. He simply didn't care now, as his fingers teased one breast out of the cup of the pink polka-dotted bra she wore. "Do the panties match?" he murmured against her skin before laving her tongue over her nipple.

She gasped, a sharp sound that had him biting down just slightly, just enough to be rewarded with a repeat gasp that sent desire straight to his groin. "You'll have to see for yourself," she managed, grinding herself against him.

He reached for the button of her slacks at the same time her hands reached for his. They laughed as they got tangled, and he batted her hands away long enough to get her slacks open. They dropped to the ground, and she kicked them aside.

Yes, the panties matched.

He dropped to his knees, pressing his lips to the tiny ribbon that adorned them, right over her belly button. She threaded her fingers through his hair as he kissed her in a straight line from her stomach right into the heat of her. The thin fabric was damp, and he kissed right where he always imagined kissing. He hooked the cotton to one side and ran a finger down the slit before sliding it into her. He looked up to see her toss her head back with a quiet moan. He stayed like that for several precious minutes, worshipping her with his lips and fingers as she pleaded with him.

He had every intention of making her come with just his hands and mouth, but she tugged frantically at him. "Now, oh, now," she begged, all but dragging him to his feet.

The worktable was long enough for his needs, and he quickly shucked his slacks and dug the condom out of his wallet. She eyed him hungrily as she watched him.

"I get to do it next time," she informed him.

"You're likely to kill me if you do," he said.

"But, hell of a way to-" Her words cut off with a sharp gasp as he stepped between her spread legs and pressed his thumb against the very center of her once more. He rubbed in small, tight circles as she gripped the edge of the table.

His smile was lazy despite the need pulsing through his body. She hastily shed her bra as he rolled her panties down her legs, leaving her only in the knee-highs she'd worn to work. His fingers trailed up and down her calf. "These stay on," he said, his voice as hoarse as the day he told her about his past, and she dragged him onto the table with her.

He wasn't sure how it happened, but he found himself flat on his back. The miraculous part was they achieved it without falling off the table. The cool metal against his back made him shiver, but then she was straddling him, guiding him where he needed to go. His hips gave a sharp jerk, thrusting up into her, and they both gasped from the pleasure of it. She closed her eyes, and he felt her muscles flex around him. It had been so long, and there were no words for the feel of her. Had sex ever felt this way?

That was when he knew it wasn't just sex at all.

It didn't frighten him nearly as much as he expected it to.

His fingers dug into her hips as she moved over him, their eyes locked on each other as she controlled the pace. Each thrust sent him closer and closer to the edge, and he knew there was no coming back from it. There would be no long explorations of each other's bodies, no test of their endurance. Not tonight. He tried to tell her, tried to warn her. He suspected she knew as well, because her hand slid between their bodies to touch herself. Between one heartbeat and the next, he shuddered with an orgasm so intense that his vision greyed. But as the world started to clear, he felt her tighten around him as she came, her soft cries echoing through the empty room before she slumped against his chest.

He rest his hand on the small of her back, and to his horror, tears stung the back of his eyes. What the hell? He blinked them furiously away as she began to laugh against his chest.

"Lorelai?" Luke managed, suddenly terrified that he had done it all wrong.

She raised her head, locks of hair escaping from her hair tie to frame her face. "I can't believe we just did Bull Durham on Sookie's worktable."

Oh hell. Oh hell. For the first time, he remembered where they were, and he nearly toppled her off the table. "Aw, geez."

But she clearly wasn't regretting it. There was laughter in her eyes as she pressed a kiss to his lips. Getting off the table was a bit awkward, but they managed to accomplish it without falling or awkward flailing. She moved to the sink to wet a dishcloth while he wrapped the condom in many layers of paper towels before disposing it. They found their clothes, sneaking grins at each other as they redressed. She poured out the coffee in her mug and got more from the pot before rescuing her wallet and the baseball card. He found the industrial cleaner that Sookie kept and scrubbed down the table throughly, then a second time for good measure.

Luckily, there were no irate guests waiting when they walked back into the front lobby. Lorelai went behind the front counter and frowned at her abandoned food. "Well, the burger should still be good at least," she said, then ignored it as she turned to the registration computer. She keyed in a few lines, then snagged a set of keys from a pegboard. "You've got to be exhausted. Go lay down upstairs. Room 7. Up the stairs, fourth door on the right."

Luke wanted to sit with her, to simply exist in the same space as she did. But his body chose that moment to remind him that he had been up for more than 20 hours, and exhaustion nearly staggered him. "Are you sure? I can pay for it."

She waved him away as he reached in his back pocket for his wallet. "I sometimes crash in an empty room after an overnight shift, especially if I have to be back here around lunch. Which I do. I just don't plan to sleep alone tonight."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Got any issues with that?"

"None." Luke kissed her on the lips, then her nose. It wrinkled, which made him smile.

"Oh," Lorelai said casually as he headed for the stairs, "if you're naked and spread-eagled, I wouldn't mind that at all."

"I'll keep your suggestions in mind," he replied and grinned all the way upstairs.

Lorelai pounced on Sookie almost the moment she walked in the door an hour and a half later.

"Whoa, what is with you?" Sookie asked as Lorelai all but danced around her as she followed Sookie into the kitchen. "Have you been doing something slutty?"

She grinned. "As a matter of fact-"

But Sookie's attention had turned to the coffee maker, where they had left the coffee and spices out. The machine was still on, the pot mostly empty. "Who's been in my kitchen?"

Oops. "It was just coffee, Sook."

Sookie threw her hands in the air as she frantically looked over the bottles. "And spices! Someone's been messing with my spices!"

"I know! I let him!"

Sookie placed her hands on her hips. "I have a specific organization system to my spices!"

Right, right. Next time, make sure to put everything back where Sookie left it. Lorelai blamed sex brain for it. "I know, and you can put them away, but Sookie …"

"I don't care who you let in here, Lorelai, he can't just go riffling through my spices," Sookie huffed as she snatched the bottles to put them away. Then she spun around so fast that Lorelai had to back up quickly to keep Sookie from running over her. "Him? Him?"

Lorelai just grinned.

"You mean Butch…?"

"Luke," she corrected. For some reason, it didn't sound right for anyone else in town to call him that.

Sookie studied her closely, then dropped the spices back on the counter. One bottle rolled off, landing on the floor with a crack. "Oh my god. Oh god, you two had sex."

"Not just sex." Lorelai's gaze slid over to the worktable. She wondered if Sookie would allow her steal it and bronze it.

Sookie stared at the table as well, and it didn't take her long to put two and two together. She gasped. "No!"

"Yes!"

Sookie gaped at her. "You went Bull Durham on my worktable?"

"Luke cleaned and sanitized it after, I swear!"

Sookie reverently laid a hand on it. "You have seen wonders," she informed the table, and she was not wrong. "Where is he now?"

"Upstairs waiting for the end of my shift."

Sookie eyed the table critically. "Damn, can he come teach my sous chefs how to clean? I don't think this worktable has ever looked this good."

"It's the afterglow," Lorelai said from her position of great knowledge. She would never be able to walk in this kitchen again without seeing that table and knowing what happened. Her toes curled. Her shoes were still abandoned somewhere. Probably under the worktable.

"I'll say. How was it?" Sookie asked as Lorelai dropped to her knees. There they were. She hooked the flats with two fingers and rocked back on her heels. The smile she gave Sookie was bashful, almost shy. She couldn't think of the words to describe what had happened.

Sookie's answering smile spoke volumes. "That good?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, I'm so happy for you!" Sookie helped Lorelai to her feet before pulling her into a hug. "I mean, all the phone calls, and you two spending so much time together, and that pizza he shipped, and really you just look like you're a pair."

"You're not mad I didn't talk to you before now?"

Sookie tut-tutted a bit. "Honey, I hate to tell you, but you've been difficult to live with for the past couple of weeks. I figured you'd talk to me when you were ready." She frowned, studying Lorelai's face slowly. "Is everything OK? What does Rory think?"

"She knows something's up. I think she'll be OK with it." Well, she was pretty confident Rory would be OK with it. The last time she had attempted at a serious relationship was some time around Clinton's second inauguration, and that failed spectacularly once the guy realized that Lorelai wouldn't just ship Rory off at a whim. She would need to talk over everything with Rory as soon as possible. But first, Mommy was going to be selfish and sleep with a really hot guy.

There was a huge plus in his favor: Luke seemed to genuinely like Rory and accepted them as a package. Helping to raise his nephew? Big brownie points in her book. He didn't take one look at her as a single mom and run in the other direction or try to use Rory as a means of picking her up, which was far more distasteful. Still, Rory only had roughly four more years of living at home before spreading her wings and flying off into the adult world. Lorelai was only 31. She had the rest of her life to consider.

Lorelai found herself hovering just inside the room a couple hours later, after tiredly turning everything over to Michel and grabbing her overnight bag from her office. Oh god. Oh god, this was big. She knew it would be big. She knew what she would be throwing herself into, especially after hearing about the whole Anna fiasco. It would be all too easy just to leave a note, slip out, and flee to the Crap Shack.

Instead, she watched Luke sleep. He had kicked back the covers enough to see that he had stripped down to a worn grey T-shirt and boxers, the latter of which had to be some sort of prank gift if the ducks meant anything. His chest rose and fell softly in sleep, barely snoring. He also kept politely to one side of the bed, which would make crawling in a lot easier.

She couldn't remember ever sharing a bed with a man for longer than it took to have sex.

"Oh Rory," Lorelai whispered. "Mommy's in big, big trouble."

She slipped into the bathroom, scrubbed off her makeup, and changed into pajamas. She wasn't going to run. It was a mantra she kept hammering into her head, like a bad song on repeat. That and "Caribbean Queen" were stuck in her brain, which made for some very strange thoughts. She spent far too long staring in the mirror, psyching herself up. There may have been some bad pep talks from Coach involved.

Still, she only got as far as the bed, nervously hopping from foot to foot as she stared at the empty space. She lingered long enough that his eyes blinked open.

"You OK?" Luke murmured sleepily.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. Fine." Ish.

"C'mere." He pulled back the covers on her side of the bed, and she nearly leaped out of her skin.

For some reason, that invitation felt more exposing than the truly spectacular orgasm she had just hours earlier. What if he had morning breath? What if she had morning breath? Was he a cuddler? Did she even like to be cuddled? Maybe? Shouldn't she had figured all this out before embarking on life-changing relationship with hot baseball guy?

"I've never done this before," Lorelai blurted. "Slept with a guy. Like, really sleep with one. Sleep, sleep, not just sex and run. I mean, I've shared a bed before. But sharing with Rory when she was little is a lot different than sleeping with a guy and I'm not sure I can." She wrung her hands. "Maybe I should sleep in the chair."

Luke's eyes warmed. "C'mere," he repeated, his voice dropping an octave. Oh god, did sex have a voice? If so, she was listening to it. Her body swayed toward him automatically, and she found herself slipping under the covers. She clasped her hands over her stomach and stared at him as he absently toyed with the ends of her hair.

"It's OK," he soothed and wrapped his arm around her. "Is this all right?"

Lorelai expected to feel suffocated. Instead, she felt … safe. Safe and cherished. She couldn't think of a time she ever felt cherished. At the most, she felt like people tolerated her. Even liked her from time to time. Except for her parents, who tended to vacillate between treating her like a distant relative or bearer of the plague. She was loved, of course. Sookie and Mia and Rory all loved her. But cherished? That seemed as foreign a concept as sleeping with a guy, and look what she was doing now.

She inched closer until her ear was against Luke's chest and he was rubbing her back. She closed her eyes and thought it would be nice to stay like this for a few minutes before rolling away and figuring out how to sleep.

Lorelai slept tucked up against him for the next four hours.