Howdy all! An,…ahem, interesting chapter here. Warning: Not for kid's….this chapter's basically a short filler, nothing really happens, so you can just skip it if you don't like nc-17 stuff. You have been warned!!!
(Yeah, like I said, no plot action, here. Oh, and this is before the dinner at Rory's grandparents' house.)
Rory was strolling down a pathway in her grandparents' garden. The garden itself was an elaborate affair, but she had to admit, beautiful. The immaculately groomed trees whispered in an affable wind and the air was slightly perfumed from the scent of the flowers. She felt rather intoxicated by the atmosphere, and perhaps this was the reason she stumbled over her own feet and hit the ground, rolling a little way.
She came to a stop a few feet away, wincing at the feel of the pavement. Luckily, she had not scraped or skinned anything, but the appeal of her surroundings was already gone by the time she heard the low laughter coming from nearby. She raised her eyes to a pair of white tennis shoes, with green laces, she noted absently, and clenched her teeth.
"Well, hello, Rory. Didn't have to be in such a rush to see lil' ole me, you know," Tristan said, grinning down at her though her current position was extremely funny.
"That was terrible. You get worse and worse as you approach senility," Rory returned, voice dry.
His grin didn't falter. "Not all of us can be as eternally five as you," he said, not missing a beat, but extending his hand. "Here. Get up."
Rory eyed his hand suspiciously, then grinned, grabbing his hand. She pulled down and rolled over at the same time, so she straddled him.
"Well, you could've just asked," Tristan said as he smiled from beneath her.
"I bet you're just loving it," Rory replied, bringing her lips a mere inch from his. He smirked at her, before reaching up to capture them, but she suddenly pulled away.
"Rory?"
Rory creased her forehead and he looked up at her, cocking an eyebrow. "Rory?" he repeated, reaching up a hand to her cheek.
She sighed, bringing up her own hand to cover his, before kissing it once and rolling over onto her back next to him.
Tristan gazed at her. She was lying there comfortably, brown hair spread around her face, giving her an even more innocent look. Her eyes were staring up at the sky blankly, unseeing. He longed to pull a stray piece of hair off her face that had unintentionally fallen onto it. Instead, he kept his hand at bay.
He had decided that she would be the death of him.
She was so pure, just lying there like some divine being. She was just so incredibly - perfect. Something he could never be. He propped himself up on one elbow and stared at her. Her eyes closed for a moment before turning her head to face him.
She stared at him, blue eyes penetrating. There was something about them that was just - enrapturing. 'You're going soft, Dugrey' he thought wryly to himself, and chuckled.
"Hmm?" she asked softly, and placed her head on his chest, looking into his eyes.
He stiffened slightly at the contact. But then Rory pulled him closer and buried her head into his shoulder. He could feel her breathe on the nape of his neck.
He should learn to do the same thing. Breathe.
Tristan swallowed and moved his hands so that they encircled the small of her back. He felt her settle in more comfortably, resting her legs on either side of him. If she kneeled, she would be straddling him. He would have smirked at her, made some comment, if he didn't feel like such a fucking schoolboy. Besides, she definitely wasn't acting like the Mary he knew, but why not just enjoy a good thing?
She exhaled slowly before raising her head off his chest to look at him. Her hair fell gently in soft waves to tickle his chin. Blue eyes stared at him. She was a bit heady, from the power she had over him. All Tristan knew was that he was drowning in opaque pools of cloudless sky.
Whatever thoughts he had quickly escaped him, whatever he wanted to say, abandoned his vocal cords, when she leaned closer and kissed him.
Her mouth slid gently over his, a light pressure on his mouth, just testing him. He returned her kiss gingerly, not rushing her into something too quickly.
'Something? Just what is this something, really? What am I doing?'
Rory placed her hands on the side of his face to cup his cheeks. Tristan's hold on the small of her back tightened, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of her shirt roughly. Rory arched her back when her hips unwittingly rubbed across Tristan's.
Tristan pulled away, his breathing steadily increased as Rory stared down at him for a moment. Dipping her head, she brought her lips down to meet his jawbone, trailing a line of small, lingering kisses down his neck. Tristan gasped when her teeth grazed the hollow of his neck.
He saw her smile against him. She was bloody well enjoying this. And yet, he was very confused. At their last meeting, she had been wrapped up in the arms of that short, dark…roach, and had done her best to avoid talking to him. Hmm, if he thought about it too much, he would miss what was happening. And Tristan was sure he didn't want to miss this.
'I'll have to make sure she doesn't have all the fun,' he thought as he roughly grabbed her by the arms and pulled her back up to him for a scorching kiss. Rory moaned against his mouth as Tristan removed one of his hands from the small of her back to cup the back of her head. Forcing her lips upon his, he wrapped his legs around her tightly and in one smooth motion, flipped her over onto her back.
He grinned and sat up on top of her. "You don't get all the fun, I'm afraid. Unlike the roach, I'm still the man. That means, I get to be on top. And you get to enjoy being under me."
Rory raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Who's the roach?" she asked, tightening her grip on his legs.
"Who'd you think?" he asked, referring to Dane, and she smiled. "That has no relevance…and makes no sense," she said, and twisted him around so that she was above him, and sneered smugly, pinning his arms above his head with one of her slender hands.
"I don't care, as long as you're barefoot and pregnant in my kitchen…"
"Oh, trust me. I'm the paycheck in this relationship," she quipped, daintily undoing the buttons of his shirt with her other hand.
Throwing the shirt away and into the distance, she shifted her grip on him so that she was holding his arms above him with both hands. She straddled his thighs with her legs, trapping him under her.
Tristan writhed underneath her. Rory snorted. "Don't like it down there, do you, DuGrey?"
He smirked back at her. "Shouldn't give you too much power, you've got dominatrix tendencies," he said, and then paused. "Frankly, I like this side of you."
Rory grinned before returning her lips to his own. "I'll remember that," she said between kisses.
"You - do - that," Tristan breathed as Rory's grip on his hands involuntarily weakened. Taking advantage of her distraction, he shifted his arms and pushed her to the side, shifting so that his chest rested on top of hers.
"How many times do I have to tell you that you belong under me?" he asked, pinning her down to the ground, unbuttoning her shirt in the process.
"Mm," Rory lamented as Tristan's mouth explored every bit of newly exposed skin across her chest. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the grass.
Tristan stopped for a moment. Rory raised her head to look at him. She cocked an eyebrow. Tristan was eyeing her bra curiously. Slowly, he traced his fingers over her breasts. Rory shivered.
"This will have to go, won't it?" he asked her. Rory swallowed and gave a barely noticeable jerk of the head. "What was that?" Tristan asked, cupping her breasts with his hands.
Rory gave as disgruntled sigh. "Yes," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
"Good," Tristan said cheerfully as he flicked the catch on the bra off, removing it quickly without any toil.
Suddenly, Tristan found himself on the floor. Rory grinned at him from above, her hand darting to his groin before he could stop her. Tristan gave a sharp gasp.
"My," Rory sang from atop him, watching him writhe underneath her. "This will have to go too, I suppose."
Tristan clenched his teeth together. He would not give her the satisfaction of having him ask…
Her fingers played along the line of his pants, finally darting a finger or two down them, fondling him. Tristan breathed in sharply. "Rory..." His voice trailed off.
"Yes?" she replied sweetly, finally taking the liberty to remove his pants.
Tristan was silent as his breath came in shallow and waveringly. Suddenly, Rory laughed. Bending close down to his ear, she blew hot air onto his neck. "I want to hear you beg for it," she whispered.
******************************************************
"Jesus," Tristan gasped as he bolted upright out of bed. Throwing his damp sheets off, he stood abruptly. "What the hell was that?" he asked himself aloud. "I want another one!" Widening his eyes at his own thought, he grimaced. Making his way over to the bathroom, he stood in the tub, still clad in his boxers and turned a knob on the tiled wall. The extremely cold water splashed all over him, soaking him.
'Merry Christmas' he thought to himself, staring at his flushed reflection in the mirror.
Ok, so that was just a peek into Tristan's dirty, dirty mind, because I didn't know where to fit this is in the story. Please review!! Till next time…