Story Title: The Seven Deadly Sins: A Series of Lit Vignettes

Chapter Four--Lust: Intoxicating in Theory and in Practice

Rating: T, for some possible language

Summary: A series of looks at moments we were robbed of in Season Three. A look at Rory and Jess being Rory and Jess.

She was mesmerized by the lines of his body. He was a series of slight geometric anomalies under her close scrutiny, but when observed all at once he made her knees literally weak. She never thought that she would fall into the pinning of such a blatant stereotype, but just the nearness of him was enough to prove that she wasn't above falling prey to such girly notions. Swooning and pining were surely right around the corner.

It all started with the slope of his jaw, but it didn't end there. If it had ended there, she wouldn't wake up blushing or have trouble meeting his eyes in public. And perhaps her mother would stop with the now weekly Sunday safe-sex lectures. Her life would certainly be easier, that was for sure. But when she was close enough to enjoy him, weak knees and all, she wasn't sure easier was what she was after.

His jaw was always slightly rough, even if he'd just shaved before picking her up. He had a strong jaw, with muscles well toned from their now epic-length make-out sessions. Her own jaw would often hurt the next day after seeing him; yet another reminder along with raw lips and finding her undershirt on inside out when she woke up the next morning.

His hair was always a little too long, and a bit uneven. She wondered where he got his hair cut, but she never asked him. She didn't know personal things like that about him. She didn't know his first grade teacher's name or the street he grew up on, but she knew other things. She knew that his smile was crooked and his shoulders shook when he laughed really hard. She also knew that his smile faded right before he kissed her, as if it were a solemn act.

He had other lines. Ones that had an effect on much more than her knees. Ones that were only visible after they'd gotten past the first initial kisses and their hands got ahead of them. She liked to run her finger down the midline of his body, separating the muscle groups that were so well showcased on his compact frame. She traced it from his neck to his navel, circling there and, if she was feeling brave, just below. But this southern-pointing line wasn't created by muscle definition, but a thin trail of hair that disappeared down into his boxer shorts. Like a road map for a trip she knew she wanted to take, but she wasn't sure she could find her way back. She always turned back before she reached her final destination.

And yet, she continued to explore the same paths.

She wasn't alone in her travels, as his hands were often busier than her own. He seemed to like contours better—relishing in softer flesh than hardened muscle. His hands lingered over her hips, her butt, her breasts—learning her body as she was learning his. With the regularity that he sought out her body, she assumed he was finding just as much pleasure as she was.

"Jess," she swallowed as his hand dipped down her stomach, under the button of her jeans. She knew they'd be undone in a matter of moments. It wasn't that she minded the act, but it was the timing that startled her. She still had remnants of lip gloss on, and they'd only heard Luke's truck fire up and take off for his date a mere ten minutes before. She thought they were still acting under the guise of putting a movie on and watching it.

"Mmm?" he asked, not able to be bothered with forming real words as his lips skimmed over her stomach, using his teeth to tug at the skin over her hip bone.

She completely lost her train of thought as her hands went into the tangle of hair on his head and prayed he'd repeat that action. He was never rough with her, though he lost much ability for gentleness when they went any number of days without seeing one another like they had this week. She'd had midterms, and he'd been working. This was her first indication that he'd missed her.

"Is Luke coming home early?"

"Nope," he used only two fingers to unbutton her jeans. He gave a gentle tug to bring them a couple of inches lower on her hips, but left her modestly covered. Just because he couldn't see what he was doing didn't mean his fingers weren't capable of exploring on their own.

When she last saw him, she'd told him to keep thinking what he was thinking, and clearly he had followed her instructions. He was making her dizzy, though she was lying down. His thumb stroked a cluster of nerves that seemed to be hooked up to control her entire system.

"Oh," was all she could manage in response as he continued to touch her softly, but established a rhythm that her hips seemed to want to follow. She was having one of those moments that pushed the line between what they'd done before and what she would only realize she was ready for after they'd done it. There had been several of these moments in their relationship, and she had yet to regret anything. "Jess?"

His hand didn't stop moving, but he pressed his cheek into her stomach so he could look up into her eyes. Somehow the combination made her mouth go dry. She blinked, hoping to find her previously important question.

"Uh, oh," she squeaked as his finger dipped further down, gaining moisture before coming back up to glide over her again.

"You okay?"

"Mmm," was all she could answer as her eyes closed.

"Rory."

She kept her eyes shut, enjoying the feeling of his hands still. "Yeah?"

"Rory."

His voice was more insistent, and it made her open her eyes. Apparently that was all he'd wanted, as he didn't say anything further. He kissed her stomach, his tongue dipping down into the shallow depth of her belly button. Her hands were now completely entangled in his hair, her hands balling into fists and pulling his thick locks. She'd forgotten all about his lines as he unzipped her pants all the way, exposing the white bikini briefs that were littered with yellow daisies that she'd pulled on this morning without a thought that they'd have a wider audience.

This made him smile, and she couldn't help but blush. Which made his smile wider. "Cute."

"Shut up," she chastised.

"Okay," he said, again reverent, his smile fading as he snagged his fingers in the elastic of her undergarment. He barely moved it a fraction of an inch before her fingers found their way out of his hair and over his hands, stopping him.

He let out a soft sigh, barely audible, and moved back up to her eye level. He put his hands on her cheeks and kissed her. She felt like he was soothing her, reassuring her that he wouldn't go any further. It was an odd dichotomy, as he was preparing to slow his body down, hers was still feeling the draw for more. It surprised her, and she knew after her ingrained attempt to slow him down he wouldn't believe her words. If she wanted him to keep going, she'd have to show him. She kissed him back harder, and like a pro he immediately responded. His hands remained on her neck, however, and she knew that kissing wouldn't quite be enough to convince him, either.

She traced his abdominal muscles, each rectangle, coming back to the midline each time before moving down further. By the time her hands were at the natural roundabout of his belly button, her lips were skimming down his neck. She could feel his muscles tensing all over his body, especially cords of sinewy muscle hardening on each side of his neck as she continued to run her lips and tongue over his skin. Now it was her turn, the first time she had reached to unbutton his fly. He grew very still, as if any sudden movement might derail her. She gave him the same treatment he'd given her, sliding his pants down just far enough to see the lines that started at his hips and sloped into a V—leading to the same place she was sure the trail of hair leading from his navel ended up. All roads leading her down. She caught his eye as her own hand slipped down under the fabric, seeking out something new. Something she'd only felt in reaction against her hip or her thigh. She reached out and let her hand naturally wrap around, when he sucked in a deep breath through his teeth.

"Is this okay?" her eyes widened, suddenly worried she might be hurting him.

He nodded, and she tightened her grip and ran her hand down and back up, feeling him change in her hand as she moved against him. She watched his eyes, how his pupils dilated and his eyelids seemed to grow heavy. She bit her lip and grew less timid, testing out pressures and speeds. She remembered the trance-like state he'd conjured up in her with the rhythm he'd used, and she employed the same tactics until his hand reached out suddenly and stilled her hand.

"Jess?"

"We should stop," he managed.

"Oh," she said, rather disappointed. She had been feeling powerful, and while her own lust had been building, it was intoxicating to cause his to grow.

"If we don't now, I might not be able to soon," he looked her in the eye.

She knew they were always skirting this conversation, and it'd been more than fine with her to put it off as long as possible. "Do you," she bit her lip again, in disbelief that she was even bringing it up.

"Do I want to?" he understood as he supplied the words. "Rory, I'm a guy."

Her brow wrinkled. "So?"

"So, of course I want to."

She shook her head. "No, I mean, specifically. With me."

In her mind it truly made a difference. She didn't believe she was feeling all of these things because she just really wanted to have sex. She truly believed that she was feeling all these encompassing emotions and intense reactions because she was with him. She very well might have made it through high school without giving sex a second thought if not for him.

His hand came over her cheek, running down it quickly and cupping her chin. He lifted her head slightly and stared into her eyes, causing a chill to go down her spine.

"Yes, I specifically want to have sex with you."

She shifted her eyes, but couldn't help but smile.

"Are you making fun of me?" he inquired softly, in what she would call his bedroom voice. Whether or not it was, it was a tone he saved specifically for her.

"No! I'm just… happy, that's all."

"You're happy?" he inquired, still not quite buying that she wasn't mocking him.

She nodded, peaking his interest. She liked the feeling of the upper hand and waited for him to continue to want more from her.

"Meaning?"

She gave him a half-shrug—a taste of his own medicine.

"Rory, I have self-restraint, but after what just happened, you telling me that you're happy," he led.

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it," she admitted.

"So, we're thinking about it?"

"I'd say it's fair to say that."

"Huh," he scratched the top of his head and nodded, his lips turning up in an almost smile. He stayed in his thoughts for what seemed like a long time, and she poked him in an accusing manner.

"You're thinking about it now!"

He looked at her, his mouth gaping a bit before answering her. "You just said we were thinking about it!"

"I meant in general, not right now!"

He rolled his eyes. "When am I allowed to think about it?"

She shrugged. "Later. After I'm gone."

He smiled. "Is that when you'll be thinking about it?"

Her blush was going to be eternal. "I hate you."

"So, it's going to be angry sex we're imagining?" he teased her.

"Ohmygod! Shut up!"

It was too late. He was enjoying making her crazy now. There was only one way for her to both retaliate and shut him up. She pushed him back down against his bed, with the sheets in total disarray from the way he'd left it before his shift at the diner that morning, and covered his mouth with hers. She was able to shut him up, but no doubt she was giving him a better visual for his later thoughts.

Luckily, it would be fuel for her thoughts as well.