A/N: Hi! Remember me? I've had a crazy few weeks, and things don't seem to be getting any better. Jewels12 told me I'd feel better if I wrote a little smut. I figured it was worth a shot. Lulu1960 gave me this little gem of an idea a while back, so I thought I'd try it. If you like it, show a girl a little love, okay? I'm feeling a bit fragile. I missed you. I missed you all!
F… Face
"I'm gonna talk to TJ, but I'm gonna be smart about it, I'm not gonna spook him. I'm gonna be like Michael Corleone dealing with that slimy brother-in-law of his," Luke asserts, glaring at the gaping hole in what was once my bedroom wall. "Get a couple of tickets to a ball game, invite him along. And we'll talk about the beer and the hot dogs we're gonna eat. And then I'm gonna get him to admit that he did this."
As shocked and dismayed as I was to discover my newly installed air-conditioning, I couldn't help but grin. First, he used a Corleone reference, then I saw the intensity in his eyes. He was just getting revved up. I love it when Luke is all revved up.
"And then when we get in the car on the way to the ball park, I'm gonna put a rope around his neck and pull it till he's …" He yanked on an imaginary rope and I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. "Dead!"
I couldn't help myself, I had to ask, I had to play along. The years training that went into baiting Luke into these kinds of rants could not be ignored. "Wait, Wait! You're in the backseat?"
"Yeah! That's the best for garroting. Yes!"
The fact that he used the word garroting garnered huge points in his favor. If I were Drew Carey, I would have given him a million on the spot. Still, I have a job to do. "No, he's gonna smell something fishy if you hop in the backseat especially if you're driving."
"No, he's not that bright. It'll work!" he insists.
This is why I love him. Stubborn, mule-headed, and opinionated. This has been my fodder for years. I couldn't let him down now. "Why are you even buying the tickets? You could just sneak up on him and garrote him on the street. Save you the money."
"I can still go to the game the other way!" he reasons. "I'll take my friend Ed. He hasn't been to a game in ages."
I smile. There's nothing like a hefty dose of Luke-logic to make you see everything a little more clearly. "Yeah, you're in no state to deal with TJ right now."
A sigh hissed from his lips and he ran out of steam. "Maybe not."
My smile turns into a grin. He is exactly what I needed at that moment. Well, Luke and about fifty sheets of plywood to cover up the gaping hole in my house. "And, we need to do something about the fact that my bedroom is on display for all to see."
"I know."
"So, let's figure out what we need to deal with the hole. First things first."
Luke nods and I slip my hand through his arm, leading him toward the house. "You're right. We need tarp."
"Tarp," I confirm, happy to take up the monosyllabic end of the conversation for once.
"And some plywood."
"Plywood."
"Staple gun."
"Staple gun," I echo, adding another item to the list.
"And rope.
I pause to shake my head. "You're not garroting TJ."
Luke concedes with another sigh. "Skip the rope."
"No rope."
He glances over at me, a sheepish smile adding to the flush of angry color that rides high in his cheeks. "I'm sorry."
I give his arm a reassuring squeeze. "It's not your fault."
"Eh...I'm dumb."
I want more words out of him, but not words like these. "No, you're not."
He flares up again the moment his boot hits the first step. "I'm gonna kill him!"
"No, you're not!"
Pulling him into the house, I nudge him toward the couch. "Stay put," I order, then whirl to unearth pen and paper from the cluttered desk. "We need to make a list."
"Tweezers," Luke mumbles, yanking the ball cap from his head then tossing it onto the coffee table. He sprawls on the couch cushion, letting his head fall back.
The dark fringe of his eyelashes spawns a spark of feminine envy as he blinks at the ceiling. "Tweezers?"
Luke nods again. "I'm gonna peel his skin off with tweezers, one layer at a time. Do you have any idea how much skin the human body has?"
I must have grunted or something, because he plunges ahead undeterred.
"Lots. It's gonna feel like miles by the time I'm done with him."
"Luke…."
"Tweezers and a big pot of boiling salt water…."
And he is off and running again. Clutching the Hello Kitty notepad I'd secured and a pen I'd swiped from the bank, I perch on the coffee table, my knees between his. Biting my tongue, I wait patiently while he extols the virtues of slow, painful torture. I know if I wait long enough, he'll eventually wind his way back to the fact that T.J. would be able to talk the entire time Luke was tormenting him, and this plan would be tossed out too.
Slightly disturbed by some of the more gory details, I tune out the specifics and concentrate on the low, rumbling, grumble of his voice. I love his voice. I don't get to hear it often enough.
It's not often that he strings ten or more together under any circumstances. Usually it only happens when he's on a tear, but sometimes … Sometimes he gives them to me when moved by a different type of passion. Those were the words I love and need. I crave them like I crave Pop Tarts – maybe more.
As much as I could appreciate a rambling rant, that isn't what I need at that particular moment. Yes, I need the sound of his voice, but I want the other words. The words that come out soft and husky. The ones that weave their way into my heart, mind, body, and soul.
Setting the pad and pen aside, I slide from the table onto his knees.
Luke jumps, startled by my sudden invasion, but recovers nicely. His arms encircle me, pulling me firmly into place as he sits up and takes notice. He presses his nose into my neck, his lips tickling my skin as he mumbles, "Too messy, too noisy."
"Yes," I whisper soothingly, running my fingers through his fine hair. He kisses my neck and whispers something about ripping T.J.'s arms off. "Still messy and noisy," I murmur, nipping at the pink tip of his ear with my lips.
Luke shifts, his hands finding purchase at my waist, his lips clinging to the hollow of my throat. He mutters something about shoving one arm down T.J.'s throat and sticking the other someplace where the UV/A and UV/B rays would never find it, and I giggle.
I know this isn't the sexy, seductive talk that most women crave. I know I must be an anomaly, but when his tongue races along my windpipe, I shiver with arousal and anticipation. This is going to be one of those times. I am going to get my words.
"I should get back to work," he mumbles.
Okay, those are not the words I want and he should know that. Rocking back, I stare straight into his indigo eyes. "You have work to do here." He stares back at me, and without another word I know he knows I'm not talking about a patch job.
His hands sink into my hair, his fingers curling around the strands, tugging them lightly, urging me to take his mouth. I go willingly, happily, joyfully. Kissing Luke is always a treat. His lips are warm and soft, moist but not wet, tender but demanding. He parts his lips and I sink into him. All thoughts of huge gaping holes and burgers sizzling on the grill are lost the moment our tongues touch.
I hum low and deep in my throat, savoring the taste of peppermint attempting to mask the tuna salad he obviously had for lunch and the anger and frustration bubbling inside him. Angling my head, I take the kiss deeper, framing his face in my hands. I plant my knees on either side of his hips and grind my body into his, doing my best to meld us into one despite the cotton barriers between us.
My fingers find the buttons on his flannel. I free three before bunching the fabric in my fists and giving it a mighty tug. We break the kiss just long enough to dispose of his shirts then my jacket. Within seconds my pink camisole is swept over my head and tossed aside.
He lunges for my mouth again, kissing me hard and hot. His hands move restlessly over my torso, skimming along my ribs, tickling my stomach, and kneading my back. His tongue circles mine, and my bra gives way. This was exactly what I need. My man is in charge, and nothing would stand in his way now.
I arch away, letting my head fall back as he slides the straps of my bra down my arms. He tosses it toward the pile of clothing then cradles my back in his strong, capable hands.
"God, you're beautiful," he murmurs, lowering his head to kiss my breast.
Yes, the words. Here come the words. He could do this, he could fix me. He has all the tools he needs to patch the big, empty hole inside of me.
He draws on my nipple gently – too gently. Cupping the nape of his neck, I pull him closer, my back bowing as I press into his mouth, urging him to take more. We have been lovers for less than a year, but Luke knows exactly what I want. He has always known.
"I want you all the time," he whispers against my skin. His hand closes over my other breast, punctuating his statement with a possessive squeeze.
"Yes … Yes…."
Certain that we are on the same page I release my hold on him to fumble with the button on my jeans. Each delicious tug of his mouth sends heat rushing between my legs. Each dangerous tease of his teeth shoots shivers down my spine. I want to be bare. I need him to feel as raw and achy as I do.
"Tell me." My command comes out in a whisper, but I feel the powerful jolt of the impact it makes on him.
"Today you taste like raspberries," he growls, shifting to claim the other breast and raising his free hand to tease the wet tip of the one he'd abandoned. "Vanilla."
"It's new."
"It's incredible."
He draws my nipple into his mouth, suckling greedily on the beaded tip. I moan. I moan so loud that a hot blush rises in my cheeks, but I don't care. I need the words. I have to coax more words from him.
I unzip my jeans then place my hands on his bare stomach, enjoying the ripple of muscle that dances beneath his skin. "Do you think about me at work? While you're flipping and frying do you think about flipping me?"
Luke releases my nipple with a pop. "You know I do," he grumbled. He pushes at the waistband of my jeans, easing them over the curve of my hips, then grunting in frustration when the material refuses to budge.
Luckily, I'm not so stubborn. I slip from his lap, holding his gaze as I shove my jeans and panties down. I love the way his nostrils flare when he's excited. I bask in the heat of his gaze as I step out of my shoes and kick the last of my clothing aside. I barely have time to straighten before he's on me, pressing his face into my belly, tracing my navel with his tongue, doing all sorts of delightfully suggestive tricks with it while his breath washes over my skin hot and heavy.
"Tell me," I whisper, running my hands through his tousled hair.
"I think about kissing you, licking you.…" He nuzzles the curls between my legs and my knees almost give out. "God, I want to devour you."
"This is why you can't kill T.J.," I tell him, running my hands over the smooth planes of his back. "I need you. I need you…."
"Lorelai…." His voice is warm and hoarse, his blue eyes filled with a lethal mix of longing and love.
I push him back against the cushions and reach for the buckle on his belt. He covers my hand with his and whispers, "Upstairs."
I can't stop my smile. The effectiveness of my diversionary tactics is highly gratifying. The urgency etched into his face is incredibly arousing. I bend and kiss his lips lightly then murmur, "Hole."
Luke groans and squeezes his eyes shut, but his hand brushes mine aside to make short work of his belt, button and zipper.
Soon his ankles are ensnared in a tangle of denim stronger than those Chinese handcuff thingies my dentist used to hand out instead of candy. His cock stands at attention, begging for attention, twitching against the fine, soft hair that trails from his stomach.
Wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, I duck my head to brush a kiss to the freckles that sprinkle his skin as I straddle him. He captures my hips, holding me steady for a moment before his hands slide to my ass, guiding me down onto him.
This isn't how it usually is. Most of the time, there's a whole lot of teasing, taunting, and wrestling around. We both like to do our best to drive each other crazy. We both want to be the one to make the other crack. But this … This is different.
I close my eyes, concentrating every ounce of my being on the feeling of his flesh parting mine, his body sliding into mine, his pulse beating deep inside of me.
"I want you, Lorelai. I always want you."
That's all it takes. My hips circle slowly, taking him infinitesimally deeper, and he groans his approval. Pushing back, I brace me hands on his shoulders, lock eyes with him, and begin to ride hard and fast.
Luke puffs like a steam engine when he's aroused. Beads of sweat pop up at his temples and trickle slowly down his cheeks. I love to make him sweat. If I'm as much work as he says I am, I want to see proof of it.
His face always contorts into a mask of agony and ecstasy. It's both the most hysterical and the most erotic thing I've ever seen. I want to see it every day.
His lips move soundlessly at first then the grunts and groans begin to meld together into a jumble of consonants and vowels that spill from his parted lips. Words like, hot and tight. Other words which some women would consider distasteful or derogatory to the female anatomy, but I find unspeakably sexy. They keep coming, words that wash over me, bathing us both in a pool of desire so deep I never want to touch bottom. Coarse words that thrill and provoke me, curse words that tell me he's stripped to the bone, tender words that make my heart sing, words he backs up with action, and actions that have no words to describe them.
My body surges; reaching for the climax that hovers tantalizingly out of reach. I cling to Luke, certain to the depths of my soul that he's the only one I want to take me there. I call his name in a plea and a prayer. He answers with the words I've been longing to hear, filling me with them as he fills me.
"I love you, Lorelai."
Sparks fly inside of me, sending me up like a tinder box.
"I'm gonna marry you," he growls, grinding out the words with fierce determination.
I collapse on top of him, clutching him to me, holding him as close as I can without crawling into his skin.
"I'm gonna love you forever," his whispers into my ear. I shiver, knowing that what he's said is the absolute truth.
"Hole," I whisper, burrowing into his neck to hide the tears that sting my eyes.
"I know," he answers softly.
His hands move over my back. They aren't restless anymore. All traces of agitation and arousal are long gone. All that's left is the calm after the storm. I let him stroke me and soothe me, because that's what I want in that moment.
"I know," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to my hair. "I'll fix it … I'm gonna fix it."
I snuggled into the warmth of his embrace, smothering my doubts in the thick blanket of his love. "Okay … Okay…."
