A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Mags, in honor of the day of her birth. Wub you!

Many much thanks for Filo, for being the best beta in all the land, and lulu, for her knowledge that is invaluable. And thanks to my writing buddies in the SCPP, I'm addicted to your input.

Oh, and thank you guys, for all your reviews and support. It is what keeps me posting. For serious.

Note the ratings change. It's gettin' hot in herre.

Now, on with the show!

Chapter 5: Arc

There were still things she had left to do that night.

If she just opened her eyes a little, she might catch a glimpse of the trash that littered the living room, or the red stain Babette had left on her couch. The lamp in the corner had been knocked over and she could hear a steady hum from the karaoke machine, signifying that the microphone was still on. If she walked a little to the left, she may even be able to see that her kitchen was a still a disaster area.

However, the thing was, she couldn't open her eyes. Hadn't been able to since the moment they walked in the door.

No, she couldn't see. But, she could feel. Feel every damn thing he was doing to her.

They hadn't made it very far. She had only walked as far as the archway before she had to touch him again, to have him everywhere again, because just a few seconds apart from him was already too much for her to take.

There they stayed, Lorelai pressed against the arch, and Luke ensuring that there was as little space between them as possible. And as soon as she felt his arm wrap around her waist, and as soon as she felt her back mold to the arch in the wall, she stopped seeing.

She had no concept of time. They may have been there for hours. It could've been minutes. She didn't know, didn't even want to take a guess. She only knew that time had passed, judging from the way her lips felt, chapped and burning from the intensity of his kisses. But, she couldn't stop, as much as her lips pleaded for a break, and her lungs ached from the exertion she was putting forth. She wouldn't stop, as he tugged at the collar of her shirt, peeling it back as far as it could stretch, allowing him to feather kisses onto her collar bone.

Her head fell back as far as the arch allowed, gasping as she felt his breath on her skin, coming so much closer to her breasts. She was hyper-sensitive to his touch now, her skin tingling in the wake of his kisses. She let out a moan, using her hands to anchor his head to the spot, letting his curls wrap around her fingers. He groaned, and she realized she may have been gripping his hair too hard. She let go.

He lifted his head up in response to this, brushing his thumb over one of her closed eyelids before placing a kiss there too. Her eye twitched in response, and that action alone nearly brought her to tears, because he paid such careful attention to every part of her.

Her eyes opened, and she saw him. She watched as he cupped her cheeks, her eyes drawn to the creases of the knuckles of his right hand. He leaned in again, brushing her nose with his as he had done so many times that night. Their breaths mingled, and she found herself carefully palming the back of his head again, longing for him to stay just like that.

He inhaled sharply and broke away. But, his hands stayed, his thumbs lightly tracing her cheekbones.

It was just…so much. Him, being there the way he was, being thrown into this situation where she could see a way they could work, could be happy. It was so much. She felt her eyes well before she even realized what was happening.

"Hey," he said, his voice cracking. "Don't…You don't have to-"

"I'm fine," she warbled, closing her eyes again and leaning into his touch. "It's okay."

"Okay," he said uncertainly as her hand dropped from the back of his head. "I uh…I want to make sure that this is okay…That you're okay."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Lorelai asked softly, her eyebrow arched in confusion.

"Lorelai," he sighed, as if he didn't want to answer the question, looking down at his feet.

"I know what you're probably thinking, what you probably assume I'm thinking but just…don't, okay? I think you know me well enough that I don't jump into things like this."

He remained silent, his face coloring slightly as he still refused to look at her. "I just don't want to do something we'll regret later."

It was almost as if he said, "I don't want to do something you'll regret later," she knew, from the way he said it and the way he looked away from her.

"Luke," she responded, cupping his cheek with her hand so that he would look at her. He closed his eyes as she ran her hand across his cheek, relishing the way his stubble gently pricked her skin.

"This isn't the way I normally do things," he said, almost crossly, turning his head slightly so he could press a kiss into her palm.

"Me neither," she shrugged, leaning in to nuzzle his neck. He inhaled, lifting one hand to keep her there.

"I don't want you to think-"

"I don't," she quickly interrupted. She lifted her head up, made eye contact with him again, her hand still on his cheek.

He moved even closer to her, pushed her further into the arch, and ground into her. She only was able to let out a small gasp of pleasure, before he was kissing her again, hard, and she was lost to his direction.

He pulled away, just as quickly as the kiss began. "Upstairs?" he questioned boldly, his voice now hoarse.

"Not yet," she managed to gasp out breathily, wrapping one arm around his back to grip his flannel.

"Okay," he said.

And then she kissed him again.

No, they hadn't made it very far.

She remembered very little how they ended up in this position. She remembered him saying they should go upstairs. Several times, in fact. She remembered taking her shirt off, remembered the expression on his face when she did, and the way he carefully fingered her bra strap, before he took his time, kissing, nipping, licking her from forehead to navel.

After that, the details were hazy.

She griped the arch harder, her hand over her head in such a way that she could start to feel her arm tingle and go numb. But she didn't move it, needing the hand where it was, anchoring her as she rode out waves of pleasure. He thrust into her steadily, each time letting out short breaths as he put forth more exertion. She wondered how he was even able to catch his breath, since she scarcely remembered to breathe herself, holding it in until her lungs couldn't take it anymore and gasping as it came back to her.

She was completely dependent on him at this point. She needed him to hold her up, even though the sweat from exertion had made their bodies slick. She needed him to help make sure she didn't alert the neighbors to what they were doing. She needed him to just keep doing what he was doing, because, God, something like this shouldn't be stopped.

As her back slid up and down the wall, and as she moaned his name recklessly, she remembered more: She remembered closing her eyes, reaching around to feel for his shirt, only to come in contact with his bare skin. When his shirt came off, she couldn't recall, but off it was, and she took full advantage of it. She remembered him lifting her, naked, carrying her only a few feet to the right before pushing her against the wall, where not long after that, he was inside her.

She rubbed his back, matching the force of his thrusts, feeling the indentions made by her nails. And, suddenly, he was kissing her, slowing his pace as he took his time massaging her tongue with his.

It's too much for her to take, and she urges him on, pressing and squeezing the legs that are wrapped around him harder. He took the hint, detaching from her lips and speeding up as much as their position would allow.

Then she was lost again, drowning in a sea of burning touches and rapture and reluctance and lust. It's getting harder for him too, she saw, as he grunted with every thrust, whispering her name intermittently. And then she felt herself letting go.

She came hard, taking her hand off the arch for the first time to hold on to him as he pushed in and out of her with no conceivable rhythm. Her mouth was open, and try as she might to make something coherent come out of her mouth, nothing did. She thought that perhaps the silence unnerved him, and as she came down, she opened her eyes, desperate to know what he was thinking, and wondering if she was at the point that she could even read his expression at this state.

His face was such a beautiful sight, with his eyes dark and his forehead wrinkled and glistening and his hair disheveled, and he was showing no signs of slowing down. She finally found her voice again, calling out his name much louder than she intended, and God, she's coming again, much more vocally, not sure she could keep this up, even though she longed to. And this time he came too.

He dropped one of her legs, but still held on to her, and she was grateful, reveling in the contact. He kissed her forehead, lips lingering ever so slightly, and she smiled.

This was different. Things were changing. Things had already changed. She wanted to be afraid of it, but in his arms she just…couldn't.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed my first venture into smut. I know I did ;)

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