Story Title: The Seven Deadly Sins: A Series of Lit Vignettes
Chapter Seven—Gluttony: The Desire for More and More
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.
Rory Gilmore wasn't completely naïve. She knew exactly how far she could push her boyfriend before he would start to lose the very loose grasp he had on the control over his body when they were close like this. He wanted more, she wanted more—the only difference was that he knew exactly what would happen if too much happened, and she was scared to death of this great unknown. What was frustrating her the most was that she had no leeway past his point of no return—no room for experimentation, to find out what would happen if she just touched him here, or applied more pressure there. Doing any of these things made her a tease, not curious about her sexuality. So they both got used to being frustrated over the past couple of months.
But tonight, she wanted more, and she wanted him to just understand that more didn't necessarily have to mean everything.
His head was buried in her neck, his lips making parts of her burn that shouldn't have any connection to her neck. She arched underneath him, doing her best under the weight of his body to snake her hands free so she could do more than stroke his abs. If her hands roamed where they were itching to go, if she touched the skin that she was so curious to feel out the sensation under the pressure of her fingers, then all hell would break loose.
"Jess," she breathed headily, her body humming so loud from the way his lips were coaxing her that she was sure it was audible to his ears as well.
He let out his usual sigh of disgruntled frustration, sure that their make-out session had come to a premature end, yet again. She put her hand on his chest and dug her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, pulling to keep him close. When he couldn't pull away so easily, he looked into her eyes. She could see the struggle of what he wanted and trying to give her what he thought she wanted warring in the depths of his chocolate brown eyes.
"Tell me something."
He cocked his head one side, wondering now where this detour might take them. It was certainly more promising than her telling him that she just wasn't ready and him walking her home before her appointed curfew again. "What do you want to know?"
She paused, so many things filling her very inquisitive mind. There were a vast many things that she lived in ignorance of when it came to him. She wasn't sure if she didn't ask because she was afraid to know or if she was more afraid that he wouldn't share the answers with her. At some point, wanting to know more than he was willing to share consumed her more than his desire to have sex drove him.
"Just something I don't know. Something personal, about yourself. Something you've never told anyone."
He raised one eyebrow. "Why?"
She didn't quite have an answer for that response. "Uh, I don't know, because we're dating."
"You want know my shoe size because we're dating?"
She rolled her eyes. "I don't want to know your shoe size."
"You said anything, something I've never told anyone."
She frowned. "You've never told anyone your shoe size?"
"Why would I?"
"Okay, this is taking a turn I didn't intend."
"What did you intend? To distract me and confuse me until I forgot we were making out?"
She put a hand on his chest. "I like the making out, but shouldn't we talk more?"
He groaned and attempted to reach past her and grab the book that was lying open with the bent spine facing up on his nightstand. She smacked his hand away, causing him to look at her in surprise.
"Jess, I'm serious."
"We talk all the time."
"Yes, that's true, but it's always about books," she pointed to the escape he was trying to make into the literary world.
"It is not. You often ramble on about your personal life."
"So, you have no desire to know anything about my personal life at all? You never wonder what it is I'm not telling you?"
This seemed to make him think. "Such as?"
"Ah-ah-ah," she wagged a finger in his face. "Fair is fair. I asked you first."
"Unless you have something really juicy, like you're a double agent for the CIA, I'm not sure this will truly be tit for tat."
"What if I used to be a boy?" she teased.
He shuddered. "Seriously, what's in it for me?"
She opened her mouth a little in a blatant pout. "Knowing your girlfriend a little better isn't enough?"
"Let's just say that if I tell you my deep, dark secrets and you tell me that your mother likes Pop Rocks," he sighed.
"So, you do have deep, dark secrets?" she inquired.
"Rory," he warned.
She lowered her gaze a bit. "Fine. It's just when we're doing this," she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips, "it makes my mind wander. But every time it wanders, I wonder if we're really ready for anything more, if we really know each other well enough."
His eyes were nearly black now as he soaked in her words. "I got my first library card illegally."
His voice was deep and his expression sheepish. It took her a moment to realize that he was complying with her wishes. It didn't feel like the kind of appeasement that some boys used to get into a girl's pants. He wasn't telling her he loved her because it was what he thought she wanted to hear. He was actively reaching out, letting her into his world so that she felt comfortable while she was in it.
"What?"
His lips curled up into a half smile. "I was four, and my mom was dating this guy, Jack. Most of the guys she dated were complete losers, but Jack had built a bookcase out of cement blocks and plywood that covered one entire wall in his apartment. We had moved in with him because Liz had lost her crappy job and had just gotten another crappy job that had her working a ton of hours. He was basically my full-time babysitter, and he'd read to me out of his books—mostly classics, Dickens, Tolstoy, stuff like that. One day he said I needed age appropriate books and took me down to the local branch of the library. They said a legal guardian or parent had to accompany a child to get their own card, so he lied and said he was my father so I could get one."
"What ever happened to him?"
Jess shrugged. "Mom broke up with him about two weeks later. Started dating some guy, I'm pretty sure he was her pot dealer. She'd started dating Jack on one of her 'I'm cleaning my life up and this time it's really different' kicks, they never lasted that long. It's the only time I ever heard anyone ever claim to be my dad," he admitted.
"Jess, that's," she searched for words, but he shook his head.
"Your turn. And it better be good," he warned.
"Okay," she drawled out the word, unsure as to what she could tell him that could be as revealing or meaningful as what he'd shared. It seemed to blatant to tell him that more and more she wanted to have sex. So, she went for the next best thing. "I'm wearing black underwear."
The look on his face could only be described as comical. He'd been expecting something on a much more heartfelt level, so she took advantage of his being thrown to lean back into him and kiss him with more fervor than she allowed herself to take with him. She kissed him the way she always longed to, without being afraid of pushing him past his boundaries or being careful of going too far. She was still shocked at his rigorous reaction, his hands pulling her harder and faster against his body, his mouth opening wider and stealing her breath in an instant. She didn't have to work to let herself get carried away, and they both allowed themselves to consume more than their fair share of one another, until in their heated exchange he bumped the nightstand with his elbow as he shifted back up her body from having taken a vacation from her lips to places much farther south and knocked his book to the floor, the noise of it hitting the ground snapping them back to wonder just exactly what their new reality entailed.
"You want me to stop?" he asked, his breath coming harder than usual. She was not so secretly glad that she was having this effect on him, because her body was completely attuned to his, at a near standstill in wait as to what he might do next. If there was one thing she knew about him that he didn't need to tell her, it was that he was experienced when it came to all the things she was nervous about when it came to sex. Maybe that's why she trusted him to show her the ropes, but it definitely was the reason it scared her to death to be okay with him showing her the ropes.
She shook her head.
He blinked. "You're sure?"
She put a hand on his cheek and kissed him. "Not sex," she said, "I mean, not everything right now, but what you were doing just now, yes, keep going."
He kissed her again, and she could taste the relief on his lips. "Okay."
And then he went back to where her hunger lay, to reveal her secret for his own eyes and giving her more than her fill of her curiosity and whetting his own appetite for more of what was to come.