They'd been back home almost a month, and life had settled into a nice routine. Luke was itching to return to work, but Lorelai was happy that he was resting; and she herself had gotten to know April a little better since April was now a daily visitor at the Crap Shack. Luke had been mortified when Lorelai taught his daughter that particular appellation--"Is nothing, no, isn't anyone sacred?"
There was however, one wrinkle in Luke's new life. The resting. From all activities. ALL activities requiring physical exertion.
Inspired by the coffee, which was Luke's of course, and delicious as usual, she continued. "What if I could convince you that I'm right?"
"Oh, sure, Lorelai. How're you going to do that?"
Luke looked mortified. The topic they were discussing made him cringe, yet he knew that he needed to listen to her. It was simply maddening being around her every day, and not being able to act on his feelings. And she, for her part, while being almost sanctimoniously virtuous around him, was, he was convinced, doing her utmost to tease him.
She laughed. "If I could prove to you that it's possible to have a satisfying relationship with someone but not actually have, you know, sex with them…"
"Define sex. Are we talking Christian Right or Bill Clinton?"
Lorelai playfully reached across over the coffee table and swatted him gently on the arm with the newspaper.
"OK, suppose I could, what would you bet? What would it take for you to be all in?"
"Damn doctor rules…" Luke muttered. "I don't see why we can't just…you know…I feel fine. Really!"
"Well I have no desire to call 911 with your dead body and imploding liver on top of me," she smugly retorted.
Just the thought of not being able to be with him drove her crazy, too. But she wouldn't let him see that.
"I'm just saying…that when two people are together, but can't have actual sex, they can still have sex."
"Um, Lorelai..."
"Mmm." She got up, and was now straddling him, while sneaking one hand down the front of his t-shirt.
Luke tried, he really tried, but couldn't suppress the tremor of longing that raced through his body at her touch. It was the first non-healing, non-medical touch they'd shared in weeks.
"Um...Lorelai..." Never a man of words, language seemed to be failing him at a spectacular pace.
His voice was now sounding strained. "You don't have to prove anything to me."
That low sexy voice of his was always her undoing.
"Oh, but I want to." Her fingers emerged again from his t-shirt, only for her to run her nails down the sides of his arms, down to his hands, and then with a quick motion, ending up on the waistband of his sweats.
"You know," she toyed with him, "you're not the most vocal guy in bed. I'd give a lot to get more than a grunt out of you."
"Lorelai, I'm a guy. We grunt."
"Uhh-mm." She tugged at his waistband, giggling as his hips automatically lifted to allow her to pull his sweats down.
Luke, sitting on the couch, was a goner. For a month, living in close proximity with her, he had wanted, no needed, her desperately. Now she had moved off the couch and was kneeling in front of him, all the while looking at him with an expression that was a mixture of all-out love, devilish impishness and humor. His hand reached out and tangled in her hair.
"You don't have to do this," he repeated.
"You'll tell me if anything hurts?" she responded. "Remember, imploding liver…"
Speech now failed him, as she ran a finger along his length, then very very slowly, so very unlike her, began to gently kiss, and then flick her tongue. Both hands were now entwined in her hair, as if desperately anchoring himself to her.
"Lorelai. Lorelai." The only sound in the room came from his now-hoarse whisper.
She snuck a glance up at him. His eyes were closed; his face was slick with sweat. She hoped this all wasn't too much for him.
She hoped not, for at that moment, Luke was just as she wanted him: relaxed, happy, and she hoped, secure in the knowledge that she loved him and desired him.
It didn't take her long to drive him over the edge. With her last motion, he called out her name, now not a whisper, then relaxed back into the couch.
He was still breathing.
Good.
"You good, Hon?" she asked lightly, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear him say it.
"You betcha."
Lorelai smiled, then rose to her feet, and went to clean up.
-----
Returning, she found him still sitting where she'd left him, only with his clothes back on.
Lorelai launched into a discussion of their upcoming wedding. She had donated the original dress to charity--she felt that it was jinxed--and was on the lookout for a new one. "Luke!" She called out when she noticed his testosterone-induced 'I'm in the room with you but not listening' look on this face. "Johnny Damon and I are going to have sex…" she tested his attention.
He guiltily smiled.
"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"
"Dress, Woodbridge, maybe Hartford…jinx…" he said. "Sorry. I was somewhere else, for a minute."
"Hee! Was it a good place?" she retorted.
"I'm sorry. You were saying?"
"Wedding plans. Tell you what, Hon. I'll call you later." She smirked. "In the meantime, you should rest. April coming by this afternoon?"
"Yeah. At two, I think."
"Any plans?"
"Just hanging around here…except…can you bring your laptop over here?"
She brought it over, and to her surprise, he took over and deftly surfed to a page, then beckoned her over to him.
"I've got something I've been wanting to show you," he stated.
Lorelai peeked over his shoulder.
"The Official Website of April Nardini."
'Focus,' she silently admonished herself, 'focus. Do not cry.'
"April has a website…" she whispered.
"Yeah, take a look…"
She spent a few moments surfing the site. April as a toddler. April in the lab with the infamous DNA-uncle. April's various birthdays. April's prizes. April and her mother.
In so many ways, that could be the story of Rory and her, she thought.
A mother and her precocious daughter. And no daddy.
Except April's daddy had no choice in the matter.
"Oh Luke," she whispered as she clicked to the final page, "you must be so proud of her…"
And there it was. The last page. "My other family." The page had a very funny photo of Luke with a red circle around his face, several photos of Luke behind the diner counter, and a photo of Lorelai and Luke together in the hospital.
"You have no idea," he answered hoarsely. "Anyway, she wants me to work on this page with her today. What do I know about websites?"
She hugged him for a long, long time, work be damned.
-----
Hours later, she returned home. It was much later than she'd anticipated; the inn hadn't exactly fallen apart while she was tending to Luke, but there was still a lot of catching up to do. She'd called and let Luke know, and then asked to speak with April, letting her know where she kept the junk food hidden from Luke, "because I know all his tricks and he's going to try to make you eat green stuff."
Once home, Luke made her sit down on the couch and kick off her shoes. He came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders. Since she'd eaten at the Dragonfly, the only thing she needed was his attention. And after her little challenge that morning, he knew one thing he could do to make her relax.
But first, he had to get her to wind down.
"Death is not an option, Luke. Aliens have come and they are making you marry that Katherine Hepburn-sound-alike Janeway from Voyager. Now you have to decide whom I end up with. Quantum Leap or Picard?"
"What about Shatner," Luke absentmindedly asked.
"I said, death is not an option…" she giggled.
"You're crazy."
"Whoa, be careful there," she requested as he began unbuttoning her blouse. "This fabric is extremely delicate; be careful not to tear anything."
Heeding her advice, he managed to slide the blouse off her shoulders, and then pushed her forward slightly so that he could take the blouse off her. 'What next?' he thought. 'Skirt, stockings, bra?'
'Skirt next,' he decided, immediately regretting his decision. Skirts were such a pain in the ass. Some had zippers, on the side, or in back, then some had tabs and others had zippers with buttons. Others were pull-down. He surveyed the scene.
Communication, that was the key. He placed his hands at her hips and simply commanded, "lift."
No problem. And that's all it took to have his gorgeous fiancée sitting there half-naked.
"Let's go upstairs," he murmured, coming around to the front and extending his hand to her.
Too tired to insist that they stay downstairs, she murmured, "You can make it up the stairs OK?"
"Can do."
She giggled as she followed him up the stairs. He smoothly pulled back the covers, then motioned her to take her place on the bed. He pulled the covers over her, and placed a kiss on her forehead.
"Be right back," he told her, going into the bathroom, turning on the water in the claw-foot tub. As it filled, he looked around at Lorelai's bewildering array of salon products. Grabbing the first one with the word 'bubble' on it, he dumped in a few capfuls and let the tub fill up with fragrant foam.
He called into the bedroom, "Your bath is ready, milady," as he walked towards her, and pulled the covers back. She had slipped off her bra and panties while he'd been filling the tub.
"Huzzah!" she proclaimed.
"Wow…" was all he could say.
She took his hand and let him lead her to the tub. He then assisted her into the tub, asking, "Is the temperature all right?" he asked.
"Perfect," Lorelai purred.
Bubbles were everywhere as she sank her head against the rolled towel he'd placed on the edge of the bath. His hands wandered underneath the bubbles.
"Not a chance, bud," she admonished. "I'm not risking you hurting yourself. Tell me about your afternoon with April."
She closed her eyes, enjoying the pampering effect of the bath, while listening to Luke describe his adventures in web design. By the time he was done with his story, he had her laughing, the bubbles were going away, and he rose to grab a towel, and extend her a hand as she stepped out of the tub.
Somehow, they managed to get her toweled off and made it from the bathroom into bed, both in a carefree mood, a mood they hadn't been in for months.
She reached for the nightstand to pull out a nightgown.
"You won't be needing that just yet," he let her know, yanking the offending garment out of her hands.
"Luke…" she admonished, "you know you're not allowed to…"
"Lie back," he softly responded, and she did, without question.
He sat down next to her, tracing his fingers down the center of her abdomen. "Where to start, where to start?" he idly asked, as she shivered beneath his touch.
His fingers wandered back up, back over her abdomen and then to her breasts. He gently cupped her right breast in his hand and flicked his thumb across the nipple. Now she was a goner.
"It seems…I need to do some thanking here tonight," he murmured, replacing his fingers with his lips. He soon had her alternating between ecstatic writhing, and squirming with glee, as her overactive mind alternated between concentrating on the sensations he was causing, and talking a mile a minute about something funny that had happened at work that day.
She did this a lot, and though he liked to pretend that it annoyed him, like all her quirks, it both amused and pleased him.
After a few minutes, when she was breathing heavily, he decided to put an end to her chatter by parting her legs. Positioning himself between them, he repeatedly tasted her sweetness and managed to replace her chatter with moans and finally, a soft cry. And when her breathing calmed, he repeated himself, laughing with her in happiness.
"See, Luke, I'm always right," she chuckled afterward, stroking his hair gently as he rested his head on her thigh. "Told ya it would be good…"
"Sleep," he told her, "you've had a busy day."
Her foot, under the covers, wiggled around until it found his, and then settled itself upon it for the night. Her hand found his and held it; smiling, she wished him goodnight.
And as usual, proceeded to talk just three minutes later.
"Luke," she said, matter-of-factly, "there's just one thing I need to know."
"Whazzat?"
"If it's this hard for you to last three months without doing it, what are you going to do in seven months?"
"Huh?" Luke was perplexed.
"Yeah, in seven months. We won't be able to do it for oh…six weeks…though I hear some people hop back into the saddle after just three or four."
"Do what?" he sleepily asked.
"It."
"It? As in…it?"
"The one and the same."
"Seven months from now. Don't get it."
"Oh, you'll notice soon."
"'Night, Lorelai," he brought her hand up to his lips. "Love ya."
And only then did it register. Seven months from now. No sex for some time.
How could she be so calm?
He took his cue from her. "Do you think we'll need to move the wedding up?" he murmured.
"Oh yeah."
He took a deep breath and lay very still.
"Are you sniffing me?" he asked.
"You smell...just right."
-----
It took Luke a long, long time to fall asleep that night.