Disclaimers, et. al. before chapter 1.

-May 13, 2004-

I woke up at three in the middle of an anxiety attack; it was dark and cold and very still. I lay frozen and listened to my labored breathing, trying to get control of myself. I started counting backwards when I could think again. I started at one hundred.

Around fifty, I remembered.

I had been dreaming of Luke and the dream had sent me into a full-on meltdown.

Oh God.

At the time of the fight, on the porch with him dressed in clothes I had chosen for him, with his voice cracking and his eyes hungry and his lips intoxicating, it made sense to be kissed by him and to kiss him and to want to kiss him again. When Kirk had come screaming down the stairs, I had wanted to scream myself, to rail, "it was just getting good. I was just getting into it. Why did you interrupt? Why? I want my third kiss - and my fourth and my fifth...I want to kiss him until the sun burns out and the world freezes and we are no longer breathing."

At three in the morning five days later, it no longer made sense. I could not do this. We could not do this. I would destroy it, like I did every relationship, and it would destroy him and me and us. If I ended it now, before he was more invested, it would be alright.

At three A.M. on a chilly and still spring morning, that is what made sense.

-Forty-five Minutes Ago-

Luke dragged me to a sitting position so he could pull my t-shirt off. It went flying into the shadows. I unhooked my bra and sent it to join my t-shirt. He was breathing rapidly, his eyes huge as he gazed at me. His hand was shaking as he moved to touch me, to drag his fingers from the hollow of my throat down to my belly button. I started whimpering his name over and over.

Then he leaned forward and touched his tongue to my skin and I lost all ability to speak. Amazing how such a little gesture could elicit such a response. His mouth was on me and it was unbelievable. I was mindless and all he'd done was touch me. What was it going to be like later?

Intense. The word flittered through my head over and over as I was holding his head in a vise-grip, terrified that he was going to stop.

He moved back a little so I could see his eyes. Oh, he was proud of himself. Well he should be. I would be writing sonnets about him - buying air time- erecting statues.

He cupped my cheek and kissed me. Long and deep and wet and slow, easing me back. His fingers were as busy as his tongue. He was unbuttoning and unzipping my pants. Pushing them down. Unclothing me.

Who would have ever believed that Luke Danes would be so assured and certain?

Then he moved lower and I was pushed beyond thought or reason; he was amazing. It couldn't get any better than this. I catapulted off the floor. His eyes were fastened on my face and I could hardly bear the adoration reflected there. I closed my eyes and let the sensations flood me, drowning me in their fury.

I believe I screamed. I think I drooled. I know I started shaking and shuddering and speaking in tongues. When I joined this plane of existence again, he was laying on top of me, his weight covering me, keeping me safe and bringing me back to earth. He was breathing with me, his heart was racing along with mine, and he was shaking, too.

"Incredible," I said - though I think it came out "iglencble."

He was smoothing my sweaty hair from my face and he seemed to understand what I was trying to convey because he said, "my thoughts exactly." He kissed me again, murmuring against my mouth. I caught my name and an endearment.

I rubbed the back of his head and his ears and he moved so he could see my face. He smiled down at me, "I could watch you do that forever."

I gazed up at him. "I could be down with that." He nodded, obviously taking it as a challenge, and began to move downward, his buttons scraping against the sensitized skin of my chest. It was only then that I realized that he was still fully dressed.

I needed to rectify that situation immediately.

"Get up," I commanded.

He froze and stiffened in my arms and I realized what I had said.

"I mean," I clarified instantly, "I want you up so I can get you naked, too."

"Lorelai..." he began. I put my fingers over his mouth. He sucked them in and began to beat a tattoo over them with his tongue. He was trying to divert me.

"Hey!" I said, pulling my fingers back out. 'No fair. You're breaking my concentration."

"Never said I would play fair," he grinned, starting to trace light circles on the inside of my wrist.

I let my fingers wander down his legs. He groaned and bucked. "I don't play fair either. Now, stand up, burger boy. I have things to attend to as well."

He pushed himself up to stand on shaky legs. My legs were just as shaky. He pulled me to him and kissed me. I began unbuttoning his flannel shirt as the kiss continued. I stripped it off him, then broke the kiss to pull off his t-shirt. He tried to kiss me again, but I had an agenda, too. I dropped to my knees in front of him and his breathing became very rapid.

Deliberately, I untied his sneakers, pushing at his legs one by one so he would lift them and I could pull off his shoes and socks. He wobbled a little as I finished and moved to kneel upright.

He said my name and it drifted down and broke over me. I would never tire of hearing his voice like that, broken and aroused and overwhelmed. I took my time unbuckling his belt and unzipping him. He was groaning by the time I had yanked his jeans down to his ankles. I found, much to my amusement, that his boxers were plaid flannel. Never let it be said that Luke Danes didn't have a style.

I chuckled, then went to work. He made a sound above my head that sounded remarkably like "gllrg." Soon, too soon, he was pulling me to my feet.

He pushed me back onto the bed and hovered over me, arms straight, legs tense, staring down at me, not moving closer.

"Hey," I said, fully aware that it was the new millennium and spontaneity was not always a good thing, "I'm good. Safe, with a clean bill of health."

He blinked, and then said, "Oh. Yeah. I'm good, too. Healthy and everything."

I tried to pull him closer, he was too far away from me, but he resisted my attempts. "Luuukkkee," I groaned impatiently. "What's the matter? We have discussed the safety issues. What are you waiting for?"

"To wake up," he said.

I teared up. Tears actually sprang to my eyes. I had put this adorable man through so much. No more. "You are awake," I said, pulling him down .We found a rhythm easily - like we had been born for this, which, in a way, I guess we were. Every single second of it, we stayed fixed on one another's eyes. I saw every emotion and sensation reflected there.

"Mine," I began to say. "Mine, mine, mine."

He buried his face in my shoulder and I whimpered. This was miraculous and fate and enchantment. Then his weight fell onto me again. I encircled him with arms of steel, unwilling and unable to let him go.