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IF YOU ARE CONFUSED ABOUT THIS STORY – READ HERE FOR EXPLANATIONS AND ANSWERS:

Author Note: I see that I've left some of you very conflicted on what is going on in the story, ages, and timelines, and etcetera. I'll explain it all:

Whyshouldicare1: Rory and Tristan were twenty three in the last chapter.

just hidden: the time line is a little iffy, and I admit that – but just trust me when I write – I have something formed inside my mind – and the timeline really isn't all that important – just keep in mind that Rory and Tristan have been dating on and off for a few years – from basically when they were eighteen or so.

Coffeemilkshake: It may seem misplaced – but everything I do is for a reason and it will eventually explain itself.

RavensWritingProphecies: I'm sorry that you're confused. Let me give you an outline of what has happened so far: Tristan never got sent away during the play – that was covered in chapter one along with Rory's break up from Dean. Chapter two was Rory and Tristan being somewhat intimate for the first time and almost being caught. Chapter three skips four years into the future, after three break ups between the two – they're on their fourth first date and end up fighting over something they both understand but the audience ( meaning you all ) do not know because it is never clarified. Chapter four – it's a year and a half later then chapter three, and Tristan goes to Rory's grandparents vow renewal at the Waldorf Astoria – Logan and Rory have their non-commitment relationship going – but Tristan and Rory end up making up without ever clarifying why they were arguing in the first place – they end up making a quick exit for a hotel room, but Jess stops them. Words are spoken, Jess leaves. And that's the story so far in a nut shell.

And there you have explanations and all the jazz – so I'm sure you're all looking for your update now:

Chapter Five: Not Such a Risk Taker

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Stretching my arms over my head, I encased the wooden bar of the headboard in my hands, letting a yawn escape my lips. It's kind of hard how long my night was last night, but turning my head to the side and seeing the familiar mess of brown hair – I know it must have ended pretty well.

I inhale the scent of coffee, vanilla and cinnamon off of the pillows and sheets, and smile. Rory always had a way of distributing her smell wherever she touched.

I turn onto my side, and lazily wrap my arm around her waist, pressing my chest against her back. I press tiny kisses along her neck, letting my warm breath caressing her ear, and slide down her collar bone and enveloping her breasts into a warm frenzy.

She stirs in my arms, and I can't help but grin, and slide my hand a bit further south, caressing her inner thigh, and playing with the tight brown curls of hair.

She moans, and I know that she's in the half-way house of being awake and still asleep. I test my boundaries softly, slipping my finger over her folds, sucking on a sweet spot on her shoulder. "Tristan," she gasps, her voice hazy and husky from sleep… "it's early… what are you doing?"

I smirk, and graze my teeth against her collar bone, running my hand up her stomach, and tweaking her nipples, "Playing," I respond, rolling quickly so I could hover over her delicate frame.

She smiles up at me, and raises her arms, wrapping them around my neck quickly, "And what if I didn't want to play?"

I shrug, trailing a path of kisses between the valley of her breasts, before kissing her entire right breasts before taking her nipple into my mouth.

"Mmm," she moans, her delicate fingers playing with my blonde hair.

I move my mouth away from her breasts, before leaning up on both of my hands, looking down at her, staring into the deep pools of cerulean blue. I graze my eyes to her lips, and sigh, contemplating on whether or not I should get off of her, and get my lazy ass into the kitchen to make her coffee.

But it's just so easy – and so far from what I really want to do.

I'm not used to not getting what I want – but with Rory nothing is ever expected. If I expected her to stay in the mood she was now in—she'd do just the opposite and make a mad dash to get ready for the day ahead. I didn't want her to get out of bed; her warmth was keeping me sane at the moment, and if I had the loss of her warmth and her off to the many people that needed her, I don't think I could handle it.

So I place the gentlest of kisses upon her lips, and patiently wait for her to reciprocate my actions. I'm worried when she doesn't kiss me back immediately, but after a few moments her lips move beneath mine, and I groan.

She tastes like sleep, and the alcohol we'd drank the night before. I slip my knee between her legs, just brushing past her soft spots lightly as I slip my tongue into her mouth, running it over her teeth, and gums before meeting her tongue in a battle of saliva.

I want control of our kiss, but it seems that Rory wants it too. I want – need, to be in control of her now. I trail my left hand down over her breasts, and stomach, tweaking her nipples as I went. I slipped my index finger over her folds, playing with her love button before slipping it inside of her.

She groans, and I know I have the control that I wanted.

She's still loose from the four times we'd had sex last night, so I slip my middle finger inside of her to join my index finger. Her hips brush against my hand, and I take that as permission to become even rougher with her.

"Tristan," she groans, and I'm almost topping myself even though she hasn't done anything to provoke my erroticness.

I pull my fingers out of her, and rub them dry on the sheets ( and I make a mental note to clean them later ). I reach over to the night stand but her hand grabs mine, and I look down at her with a questioning gaze, "What's wrong?" I ask, biting down on my lip, raising an eyebrow.

"Let's take our chances," she says, and I pull away. There's no way in hell do I want to take any chances on getting her pregnant – and ruining her dreams.

"Rory," I warn, pulling completely away, and sitting back in all my glory, "I don't want to get you pregnant," I tell her, furrowing my eyebrows.

We'd had this conversation before – and I'm terrified to bring it up again.

I'd gotten Rory pregnant the third time we were dating. We were both terrified – we'd only been dating for a little over two months when we found out. She was scared, and I was a combination between that and pissed off.

Our condom had broke, and I didn't want a baby then – I mean, I had only turned twenty one in January – and here it is in May and my girlfriends pregnant. Rory had had an abortion without my knowledge, and when I found out I was ripped shit – even if I hadn't wanted it in the first place.

Not only was our relationship on the rocks already – but she'd just killed off my baby. We broke up, and I swore that it was over – that I'd never fall back in love with Rory Hayden.

"Tristan," she pleas, sitting up, and cupping my face in her hands, "I'm not saying I want to be pregnant, but if I do get pregnant, would it be so bad?"

"Yes!" I cry, shaking my head, "We're only twenty five! We can't have a baby! We're not ready for that!"

"So what? We both graduated from college years ago – we're engaged! Why can't we be ready for this?"

"Because," I groan, running my hands hurriedly through my hair, staring at her in disbelief, "Rory," I try, my voice coming out harsher then I wanted it too, "I love you… I love you more then I have ever loved anyone in my entire life – but having a baby with you, right now – before we're even married isn't in my plans. It's not what I want."

"What if its what I want?" she asks, her eyes watering, and I know I've already lost this battle with her. I sigh, and pull her into my arms, pressing kisses to her temples. I groan, and hold her even closer as I feel her tiny body shake with sobs.

"I want us to be married before we even think about kids," I tell her, closing my eyes. "I want us to be secure, and stationed in one place."

"We are. We live together – our wedding is only two months away."

"I know."

"I want a baby."

I sigh, "I know."

"Please?"

I want to tell her yes. I want to see her smile at me like I'm the best fiancée in the world. I want her to make long, sweet, passionate love with me all morning, and well into the afternoon. I want to see her glow, and become even more beautiful as she goes through nine months of carrying my baby, "No," I tell her, holding her tightly against me, "Because this isn't what I want right now."

She sighs, and pulls away from me. I bite the inside of my lip as I watch her climb off the bed, pulling my button up shirt on over her naked frame, buttoning a few of the buttons. "Where are you going?" I ask, laying back down in our bed, pulling the comforter up over my waist.

"My mom's," she tells me as she walks towards the bathroom.

"I love you," I say, hoping that this isn't the final straw for her – that she'll come back, and we'll still be together and not break up for the fifth time.

She stops in the doorway of the bathroom, her hand on the doorframe, and she turns to me, tears streaking down her face, her chest rising highly, and falling lowly as she breaths, "I love you too," she says, a very faint smile on her lips.

I nod, and watch her walk fully into the bathroom, closing the door with a snap after her. I sigh, and grip my hair in my hands, laying fully on my back, and staring up at the wood ceiling.

Rory Hayden was going to be the death of me.