Story Title: Intimacy

Author: Silver Blood

Summary: It's easy to let a secret break your heart; no matter whose secret. AU-ish Trory. Explanation inside.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Do not sue me, it will make me cry!

A/N: The Response from the first chapter was amazing. I haven't been doing well with updating, but I have about ten versions of this chapter written and I didn't know which to use. I hope you like this one, it's my favorite. THANK YOU TO ALL MY READERS! Much love to you all.

Chapter Two : A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More "Touch Me"

Write me off, give up on me

Cause darling, what did you expect?

I'm just off, a lost cause

A long shot, don't even take this bet

-Fall Out Boy

Her nails clawed down his back. He shivered above her, digging his teeth into her bottom lip.

"Tristan!"

He kissed her quickly to shut her up.

His eyes closed.

The voice wasn't right. It was too high, too smooth, too girly.

He moved down to kiss her neck, and she wiggled against him.

He concentrated hard on blocking out her breathy moans.

Behind his eyelids was Rory, looking up at him, blue eyes clouded.

Underneath him, surrounding him, was another brunette.

Her eyes may be brown, her heaving chest much too large, but her hair was exactly the right shade.

And she was willing.

Tristan tightened his eyes and focused only on the not-so-tightness around him, speeding up. He heard her cry of completion but blocked it out. And then it was over.

After he got rid of the condom, she reached for him.

"That was amazing, Tris. If I'd known you were that good, maybe I would have let you fuck me sooner."

He held back a cruel laugh and started to dress, standing just out of her reach.

"Hey, I wanna go again... Come back."

Her pout didn't turn him on the way Rory's did. Her whiny tone made him flinch.

Tristan left the room, fully dressed and without another word, disgusted with himself.

Despite the fact that he'd had several too many shots, Tristan climbed into his Porsche and pealed out, leaving the scent of burnt rubber lingering behind him.


Rory was reading when she heard pounding on the front door. She assumed her mother had forgotten her keys and naively opened the door without looking outside first.

At the fury in Tristan's eyes she tried to slam it closed again but he caught it with his foot and shoved his way inside.

Rory recognized the look on his face; angry and more than a little drunk. She'd seen the look before and knew what it meant; either passion or violence.

Sometimes both.

Her fear was tinged with arousal.

His hand went around her neck and pushed her against the wall. She gasped as he gripped tight but left her room to breath.

"This is your fault. I can't even enjoy a good recreational fuck anymore and it's your fucking fault!"

Rory tried to calm him down and ignore his words but he caught her hands and held them over her head.

"I fucked someone tonight. I smell like her perfume. I smell like sex."

Rory shook her head and tried to pull out of his bruising grip, but he just leaned closer. His voice lowered.

"She was damn good, too, Mary."

She struggled harder, as if her life depended on it.

She was sure her heart did.

"She was incredibly responsive, like you are when I get you hot enough."

His tongue ran up her neck. She couldn't help but tilt her head back to make it easier for him.

"She had a chest on her. Man, that girl was built."

His teeth sunk in hard enough to send panic down her spine. His voice dropped to a whisper. He was going to make her hurt if it was the last thing he did.

"She knew just how to squeeze her muscles around me. A virgin like you couldn't do that, could you Mary?"

She wanted to kick him, wanted to punch him, but his grip on her hands hadn't lightened. She looked into his eyes now, begging silently for relief from his cold words. But it wasn't time for relief yet.

"And she made me cum. Hard."

Rory couldn't stop the tears from slicing down her cheeks, making her equally angry with herself and the boy who held her. Tristan stepped even closer, so that they were pressed together now.

"Do you want to know why I came so hard, Mary?"

She shook her head, closing her eyes, and tried to block out the painful words.

She just wanted him to leave so she could break down by herself.

"Tristan, please stop!"

His anger vanished suddenly and he released her wrists. Instead he dropped his forehead down against hers and slid his arms around her waist. Hers came gradually down to his shoulders. Suddenly, Tristan began to laugh.

"Her hair was the color of yours. That's why, Rory. I closed my eyes, and pretended it was you. And I came inside her with only you in my mind."

She choked on a sob as he pulled her closer, and struggled not to cling to him for comfort. Neither heard the back door open.

"I hate that I did that. I hate that I don't feel guilty for using her. I hate myself, Rory. I want to stop hating myself. Help me, please."

She had almost successfully blocked the rest of her tears, to be released after he left. She tried to be angry. Her hands shoved at his chest.

"You don't deserve help, Tristan! How can I make you stop hating yourself when I hate you just as much?"

He flinched as if he'd been punched in the gut. The wind was knocked out of him.

"I'm sorry, Rory. Please don't say you hate me. You know it's not true. Please. Tell me it's not true."

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

Her fists hit his chest rapidly until his arms pulled her against him and stilled them between them.

"I have a boyfriend, remember! This thing with you, I ended it for a reason! You can fuck whoever you want. You always have anyway, I'm sure."

He stepped back, not touching her.

"You're right, Rory. You ended it. But between the time I started it and you ended it, I didn't so much as kiss another girl. Even when you wouldn't come near me for weeks at a time. You do have a boyfriend, you can't exactly say the same."

"But I didn't use that to hurt you! You show up here, drunk, bragging about a girl you had sex with less than an hour ago and-"

He couldn't keep his voice low.

"You ended it! You don't get to be heartbroken!"

She laughed.

"Trust me, I'm not!"

He deflated again, slightly, but enough that Rory saw the full effect of her words.

"I know I shouldn't have come here. But you're right, I'm drunk. And I'm an idiot."

He turned to walk out the door. His last words were nearly inaudible.

"And more sorry than you'd understand."

Before Tristan could walk through the door, Lorelai's voice stopped him.

"Tristan. How much have you had to drink?"

He turned around, looking guilty and scared.

"I'm fine to drive."

Before he could turn to leave again:

"How many drinks? Now."

He mumbled something.

"Repeat that, a little louder."

Tristan could hear barely restrained anger in her voice.

"A few beers and a few shots."

Narrowing her eyes, Lorelai walked over and looked into his own.

"You have had way more than that, Tristan. You're not driving home. Can someone come pick you up?"

Tristan laughed.

"Yeah, I'm sure one of the maids would be happy to."

Only because she heard and understood the loneliness in his voice did the next words escape Lorelai's mouth.

"You can sleep on the couch."