Trick or Treat
Trory Holiday Flash Fiction. Complete. No set up necessary, just a love of Trory.
5:58pm.
Tristan Dugrey checked his watch and re-adjusted his mask. He gathered no looks in the lobby of his girlfriend's building. Little kids and their parents were swarming the streets as all the latest Disney themed characters. He actually nodded his respect to one family dressed as a gathering of the Avengers. He'd gone simple as well as classic, Zorro. He couldn't come in street clothes; he'd never get through her door. Rory Gilmore was no doubt on peephole alert tonight of all nights. She took Halloween seriously. Actually, she took all holidays seriously, as a matter of upbringing. Whereas his parents had taught him to capitalize on his wealth, her mother had schooled her in the art of properly celebrating holidays. Well, that and making her eyes go wide in a way that even does aspired to.
After her weeklong celebration of his last birthday, he'd not batted an eye when she'd planned for Halloween like doomsday preppers might ready themselves for a scheduled apocalypse. She was prepared, for whatever arrived at her door that evening. The only thing she hadn't counted on was him.
She was no novice. She wouldn't open the door, not for the cutest ballerina or most lifelike mummy, before six on the dot. The official trick-or-treating time for her borough ran from six to eight in the evening, and with another glance as his watch he saw it was time to enter the elevator. It took exactly fifty-five seconds to ride up to her eighth-floor and another five seconds to stride to her door. She'd know it was him, even in his disguise, but she'd assume he'd changed his mind about Halloween not being for adults. When she first brought up making plans for that evening, he'd offered his own ideas about how to celebrate the haunting occasion. It involved a dark room, costumes only for roleplaying purposes, and the only chocolate involved would be drizzled over her bare skin.
It had been a disappointment to say the least when she'd stated in no uncertain terms would she entertain sexual advances until the last trick-or-treater was safely home, no sooner than 8:15pm. He was welcome to come in costume and help her answer the door and fawn over the never-ending string of Rapunzels and Spidermans (his least favorite of all the superheroes). She considered it non-negotiable.
He considered it an accepted challenge.
He'd seen her ranks of candy. He'd seen her decorations. What he hadn't been privy to was her choice of costume. She'd made veiled references. She'd talked about arranging her schedule to pick it up. She'd offered to find something appropriate for him. In his mind, neither of them would be wearing much for very long—the actual manifestation didn't matter. That was the thing about Rory, though. She was always surprising him. She literally stole his breath as the door opened and he took in the nymph goddess she'd transformed into. Logically he knew that it was the effect of gauzy, sheer layers of earth toned fabric, the high, jagged cut of her skirts, and the application of bronzer that made her appear so ethereal. However logic didn't enter into the equation as his body reacted immediately to the vision before him.
Her smile nearly threw him off his game. He hadn't counted on her magical powers nearly causing him to break and consider handing out full-sized candy bars to the school-aged set. "I knew you'd come around. So, what'll it be? Trick or Treat?"
He stepped onto her threshold and lifted his tipped fencing blade. He used it to ruffle the bottom hems of her skirt, tracing around her all the way to her fairy wings. "Treat."
"This is for the kids," she stated, amused at the way he was transfixed, his eyes skimming over every last inch of her. Her costume was form fitting, but not overtly sexy. She radiated sexiness on her own, but the costume enhanced every last curve she possessed, to the point he felt possessed. He was suddenly very interested in having her keep the wings on after he'd ridded her of the rest of her costume.
"I don't want candy," he said, grabbing her oversized bowl filled with the finest candy the Mars corporation produced, setting it out on her front stoop along her carved pumpkin on the straw mat that read "Boo!" in bold, black lettering. Spiders clung to fairly realistic webbing from the corners of her door. Her protests grew stronger as he reached over to the table in her entry, procuring her back-up supply of candy and dumping it outside as well. Her last reserves, a personal stash, waited in the refrigerator. Whatever was left would fuel her watching of a handful of Halloween-inspired classic films until she fell asleep. At least, that's how her night might have shaken out if he weren't in the picture.
But he was in the picture, invading her apartment. Not to mention overtaking her evening plans. Thwarting all her efforts. He nudged her door shut with his booted foot and reached back with one hand to lock her door. With the other hand he aimed his sword, resting the rubber-tipped point over her heart.
"If this is some sort of trick," she began, her voice full of protest.
"On the contrary. This is the best kind of treat," he corrected, taking a minute to take her all in as she stood at sword-point. She was glorious in her disruption, the beginnings of frustration staining her cheeks pink and her eyes gone blue-rimmed black. "I need help with my sword."
Her eyes flickered to regard his fencing implement. "Looks fine to me."
He tossed the foil over to her couch and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in flush and tight, so she could feel the way his body wanted her. "Not that sword."
His lips were on hers before she could point out the egregiousness of his sexual innuendo.