Lust—Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough

AN: Again, this chapter especially earns that good ol' M rating. It's not hard-core, but it is suggestive. Continue on to Lit goodness.

Iron Chef America was blaring on the television, even though she couldn't remember turning to the Food Network. They'd been on the couch for a while now, and with his lips on her neck, it was hard to remember finer details. She closed her eyes when his warm hand shifted from the safety of her rib cage underneath her shirt to cup her over her bra.

"Mmm, Jess," she snuggled down under his weight, not realizing the full impact of her hips sliding against his until he groaned back.

She would never admit it to him, but she found it incredibly arousing—the sheer power of making him moan. Him, of all people. She had really only seen one girl that he'd been with, and while Rory felt no competition in the brains department with the bottled-blonde, she worried about the difference in book smarts and practical experience that she lacked.

He also apparently took her gyration as appreciation and slid the fabric out of his way to make skin-to-skin contact between her nipple and his fingers.

"Hmmm," her eyes fluttered shut again as her thoughts tied themselves into knots. Now his mouth was hot on her collarbone, nipping and licking. She was about to lose her mind, and all she could do was lie there and writhe. After he kissed her chest over her shirt, he took his teeth and replaced his handiwork. He flipped her tank up over her breasts so that he could better see what he was doing. His hand gently slipped her bra strap down her arm, and he smiled at her.

Her eyes were black, her breath was hard. It was impossible that one person could completely unhinge another in this way, but lately whenever he was around, she'd felt nearly helpless to prevent scenes like this. At first she thought his black eye might be the end of their relationship, but even though she didn't buy the football story, she had to admit the fading bruise was kind of sexy. It worked for him in the same way the smartass, sarcastic rebel from New York attitude worked for him. She wanted to take care of him, to change him, and to undress him. At the moment, however, she was more than happy to help him undress her.

His hand had snaked around her back and unlatched her clasp at some point, and her bra was now being tucked down into the couch cushion in case of emergency. It wouldn't be the first time they might have to bolt upright and pretend that they weren't nearly blind with lust and newly clothed before an adult walked in on them. They took more and more chances of late, allowing themselves more liberties in smaller windows of time. Tonight was a little different; they knew he should be gone before her mother got home from the midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. She also knew that when she'd imagined her first time—and she'd been imagining it a lot lately—it had never happened on her couch.

"Jess," she breathed, unable to peel her eyes away from the way his mouth moved against her bare chest.

His response was to rock his hips down into hers, allowing her to feel just how much this interlude was exciting him. She knew there was a point of no return, and they were quickly approaching it tonight, even though this was nothing they hadn't done a thousand times. She was just getting more frustrated with greater ease each time they were alone. It wasn't crystal clear in her mind, what glorious act might push her over the edge, but she was fairly sure it was in his arsenal. She just didn't want it to occur on the most uncomfortable couch ever to be manufactured.

"Jess, wait."

"Shh," he soothed, now using his tongue in a sweeping motion, around and around, making her dizzy even though the only movement was that of her hips starting to rock against his. She wasn't sure when her body had begun to respond involuntarily to his, but it seemed impossible to slow it to a stop.

Rory reached out and snaked her fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, meaning to try to steady his hips, but found that she was instead digging her fingers into his flesh. His skin just above his waistband was warm and soft, stretched tautly over his toned muscles. He must have good genes, because she knew all his precious time not spent working or forced in school (and probably some of that time as well) was spent reading. Of course, now more and more of his time was spent working her up into a mass of hormones and raw nerves. Not that she was complaining.

"Jess, wait," she said when she finally found her voice again. Her fingers were itching to reach around and unbutton his jeans, but she feared that might send her on a crash course for losing her virginity on this couch that very night. Instead her fingers cramped around the denim and began to bruise his flesh wherever she made contact.

"Rory, come on," he said, his voice husky and filled with want. She wanted him too, and if his mouth could leave her skin for one moment, she might get her concentration back just long enough to tell him that.

"No, Jess," she urged, and he lifted his mouth from her body without looking in her eyes. He grunted as he started to attempt to disentangle his body from hers, clearly beyond frustrated.

"No, Jess, wait," she was able to be much more forceful with her tone now, as he was finally doing something she didn't approve of—trying to leave her.

She grabbed hold of his pants quickly and jerked him back down on top of her. He looked up, pissed and confused.

"Rory, I need to get up."

"No, I don't want you to."

He shook his head, indignant. "Look, I get it, you're not ready, but you can't expect me to go from that to a full stop in a half a second. I need time, okay?"

"I don't want you to stop," she frowned, wanting him to just understand her. "I just don't want it to happen here."

He frowned as well. "Wait, what?"

She averted her gaze, now flushing with embarrassment rather than increased blood flow. "It's just kind of a big deal. Maybe not for you, but for me. People are preparing food on television and I don't even know if this couch has ever really been cleaned thoroughly, and my underwear doesn't match my bra, and," she began to ramble, trying now to make him understand, even though she was fairly sure her words were not making anything more clear than her silence had.

He smiled. He didn't smirk, which she was used to. "Huh."

She poked at his chest. "More words, please."

"I just," he drew his hand down his face, as if he were trying to relax his facial muscles out of the smile. It didn't work. "It's not that that stuff doesn't matter to me. Where we are or how sterile the surface is," he tried to sound serious, even though she got a serious hunch he was mocking her, "I guess I just care more that I'm with you."

Her face softened, but she punched him in the arm. "I hate it when you do that."

He rubbed his shoulder at the point of impact. "Geez, do what?"

"You act all sweet and make fun of me and make me feel unjustified and adored, all at the same time. I hate that."

He smirked now. "I know."

A moment passed and they just looked into one another's eyes. She finally narrowed her eyes. "What are you thinking now?"

He playfully dipped his finger into her waistband. "If your panties really don't match your bra."

"How romantic," she groused.

"Hey, you brought it up," he defended himself. "Seriously, none of that stuff matters to me. But I guess you're right. If it really matters to you, then we should do it right."

She raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean exactly?"

He laughed. "I don't mean you might do it wrong. We can go somewhere that isn't your living room or Luke's apartment and you can wow me with matching underwear. I mean, if that's what you really want."

"I should have never mentioned the underwear."

He just smiled. "You know what I mean."

Her heart rate increased to a dangerous speed. "So."

He leaned in and kissed her softly. "So."

"Where would we go?" she whispered, almost afraid to have the conversation aloud.

He searched her eyes. "Are we really discussing this?"

She nodded. When she didn't say anything else, he took in a breath. "I could get a place."

"Like a hotel or something?" she asked, feeling completely foreign to the idea.

He nodded. "Yeah. I have enough money saved up, then we'd just have to account for our time."

She bit her lip. Telling Lorelai loomed. But that was her issue, not his. "I can manage that."

He looked at her intently. "This is weird."

She furrowed her brow. "Oh. Sorry."

He shook his head. "No, it's just… I've never really gone about it like this. It's always just… happened."

She blushed. "That's bad, right?"

"No," he brushed his fingertips over her cheek and lingered over her lips. "No, Rory, it's not bad. But it'll help me if you realize that you can't plan everything."

She nodded. "It's not like I need to pick a day or anything."

His eyes were locked on hers. "But soon?"

"Yeah. Maybe soon."

"Maybe."

"Jess, I'm trying. I know I want this, or at least I know it as much as anyone can know these things. When I'm with you, like this, it's getting so much harder," she paused and sighed. "I'm probably not making any sense."

"Oh, no, you are," he assured her. She didn't have the words to tell him that she felt like they'd spent all this time, long afternoons and the minutes that pushed toward the unspoken curfew her mother would never announce but would never hesitate to start a phone chain if she weren't in her bed by, learning each other's bodies and reactions and stopped short of letting each other all the way in. She wasn't banking on sex knocking down what was left that separated them. It was a visceral yearning at this point.

"Thank you. For understanding."

He kissed her. It was as good a response as she could imagine. It also catapulted her nervous system right back into the red zone.

He pulled back slightly. "Do you want me to go?"

"Not unless you want to go."

He tapped his chin lightly and his eyes lit up with playfulness. She loved this side of him. A smile spread across her face, a laugh lilting her voice. "What?"

"I was just thinking that after all this, I think I've earned the right to see the panties in question."

"You are relentless."

He paused a moment before he spoke softly but certainly in her ear. "Trust me, there will come a time when you won't see that as a bad thing."

The part of her that only came alive when he was staring at her like she was the sexiest woman on the planet and touching her in what can only be considered a carnal way allowed her to make her last comment of the evening. "I might need a little convincing of that."

With that, he smiled and offered up a preview performance that left her with as little doubt as she'd ever had that even if she wasn't safe in his hands, she was willing to risk everything to hand herself over to him when the time was right.