He readjusted himself slightly on the bed, his legs tangled with hers as he listened to the taping of her fingers on the keyboard.
It was another lazy Sunday afternoon, the ones he was so thankful for. He used to remember hating these slowly passing hours, because he felt an incredible urge to fill them with something other than waiting for her to show up. Now it was his refuge, his sanctuary away from the world with phones turned to mute and the world shrinking down to the size of his bedroom, if he was lucky enough, to the size of his bed.
He opened his eyes slightly to check on her and he smiled involuntarily through the haze of the after-meal-nap. She was leaning against the headboard, the laptop in her lap, her eyes shining bright as she watched the words flow onto the screen.
He closed his eyes again, exhaling a long, relaxing breath as his fingers danced on the exposed surface of her abdomen.
The past week has been uneventful and he realized how much he loved that prospect. No huge dramatic confrontations, no fights, no breakdowns. Just quiet, average days of him working and coming home to a home, to his girl. He would have loved to take that for granted, believe that from now on this is how it as going to be, this simple and this incredible. But from past experience he knew his life never seemed to turn out that easy.
Right now he was thankful for the fact that he seemed to have found the Rory that he fell in love with, the one with the quiet concentration and childish optimism and amazement. He knew it didn't magically turn easy for her, but she took things one day at a time, slowly developing a schedule that allowed her to feel less of a slacking jobless writer and more of someone with plans and obligations. She took a volunteering teaching gig twice a week at the public library, for struggling high schoolers and it seemed to give some structure to her life. He knew that was the hardest thing for her right now. Not having to get up at 6 AM, not having to be somewhere on time. For Rory Gilmore, to be floating around, without rhyme or reason, without deadlines and obligations was as lost as a human being was able to feel.
"Can I ask you a question?" her delicate, almost playful tone snapped him out of his thoughts and he realized the tapping of the keyboard must have stopped minutes ago.
He opened his eyes to find her turned to him, her face contemplative.
He hummed in affirmation, turning to face her as she slid down to his level, his fingers traveling up to her silky hair.
"When we were in high school... did you... were you after me because you wanted to have sex or was it more?" she asked, her body slightly hunched and her voice quiet, as if she were whispering a secret.
He couldn't help but chuckle, not understanding where this all was coming from.
"Is this research for your book?" he asked smirking and she shrugged, blushing slightly.
He furrowed his eyes trying to see the reasons, but as always, Rory's questions seemed to be as random as can be until they formed a coherent pattern he could understand.
"So? What was it?" she asked and he exhaled, smiling, not quite knowing how to answer that.
"Rory, I was a stupid, horny 16 year old" he defended himself.
"I know, I just want to know what you felt like" she whispered, moving closer to him.
He instinctively turned onto his back, pulling her closer. She hugged his chest, her head falling onto it, his hand combing through her long, silky hair as he focused on the ceiling.
"God, this is going to be like therapy" he chuckled and he felt her smile into his chest.
"Uhm... I saw you and... I guess I was whipped" he admitted, smirking "You were beautiful and you looked so innocent... Like a Mary" he chuckled.
"You acted like a jerk" she pointed out.
"Yeah, most girls responded to that. You didn't. You weren't particularly impressed, I remember. And I didn't know any other way to approach a girl" he sighed, trying to channel that mindless period that he so would have liked to forget about.
"What did you want?" came her quiet inquiry.
He sighed again, armless in the face of her insistent questioning. This was so like Rory, digging for details that were painful and embarrassing.
"I don't know what I wanted. I wanted you to like me. To want me. I wanted impossible things" he groaned.
She listened to him, her long even breaths warming his chest.
"Can I show you?" she asked, and her voice was so quiet, so shy, he wasn't sure he heard right.
He looked down onto her, to make sure she meant what he thought she did.
She blushed again, moving off of him carefully and he tried to swallow as his heart started to race.
He sat back, leaning back against the headboard as he watched her get her laptop, placing it gently into his lap.
He looked at her, feeling incredibly tempted to look at the screen, to read whatever was written, but it was almost as though there was an invisible law stopping him.
She smiled at him encouragingly and he realized she was offering a glimpse into something very private, her very own.
It made him extremely nervous. Not nervous like the time he usually read Rory's writing. Her articles were always interesting, to the point, and very uniquely hers, but they were also almost always a test for him. He felt like her writing, writing in itself was something foreign, something ungraspable for him, something with what Logan and Jess always had a level on him.
And this was even more burdening. Her child of labor, her resurrection, her proof of life. How could he measure up? How could he understand or critique?
He watched her eyes, their deep blue full of hope and love and he swallowed hard again, turning to the screen.
He started reading, holding his breath as his eyes skimmed over each word.
He was the ultimate golden child. With a smile that would command masses and eyes that twinkled with the knowledge of superiority. He was confident and well-spoken, heir to whatever he ever wanted from life. And as lost as humanly possible.
I remember the first time I saw him and even then, with the whole charade of the hot-shot playboy image, I could tell how desperately alone he must have felt. How desperately lone and abandoned he seemed. It's as though these children, those abandoned not physically, but emotionally, exuded some quiet hum of loneliness that only their peers could decipher.
We seemed to have found each other through that hum, picking up each others' frequencies over crowded rooms, chattering classrooms and desperate pretenses.
I don't remember talking much with him. As though words were something he had fallen out of trust with, disenchanted and disillusioned. But there was no mask either, when we were together. I almost never saw him smile and that made him seem more honest, more true than any words would have made him.
How we came to be, how it all fell in place, remains a mystery to me to this day. But I know that the wonder he showed towards me, the amazement with which he would touch and approach me, makes me smile to this day.
I was as experienced as a 16 year old guarded by panic stricken grandparents could be and he was the one who probably knew the ins and outs of physical love by the time he first had to write a book report in school, yet when we were together, even through the deafening sound of my wildly beating heart, I could see the unbelieving gratitude in his eyes.
He would worship with glances and appreciate every second, every touch, clumsily and childishly, and I wish I could have stripped him of his pretenses sooner than I stripped him of his clothes, because it would have made it that much more true, that much more sacred.
It amazes me to this day, that my naive, inexperienced and child like 16 year old self would motivate someone so much. That he would wait and wait and fall at my feet, and love me in a painfully slow and controlled manner. That's how he was with me, that's how he discovered me. The reality that it was a first time identical to a thousand other first times for thousand other lost teenagers didn't change the fact that we found each other for reasons much more mature than our age would have called for.
He finished reading, his eyes lingering on the last line and he felt a mix of excitement, pain and fear. It made him shiver, that reality she had created, and he almost wished it were true, a real memory rather than the delicate picture painted by her mind.
She moved in closer, sensing he'd finished and he sighed, clearing his throat to get rid of the weird stinging he felt in the back of it.
He pulled her closer, his hands going up to caress her face as his eyes focused on her deep blue ones. He sighed again, wishing he'd have her words, her mind to tell her how he felt, how she made him feel.
"You don't like it" she whispered, her voice worried as she bit her lip.
"God, Rory, of course I do" he shook his head, worrying she misunderstood his lack of words "Your writing is incredible. I wish I could tell you how incredible" he struggled "I just feel like nothing I say is going to do it justice, like it wouldn't mean anything".
She looked at him wide eyed.
"Of course it means something" she whispered.
"I just feel like I am not equipped..." he said, desperately trying to pick the right words to make her understand his frustration without being hurt.
"I don't want you to give advice, I just want to know how it makes you feel" she shrugged, her expression honest, calm.
"I can't tell you how it makes me feel when I read your words" he groaned "I wish you could feel what it's like for me to read them" he said, placing her hand onto his chest in frustration, as if he were hoping that simple gesture would let his feelings pass onto her.
She blushed slightly and he pulled her closer, his lips touching her ears as he whispered.
"I didn't know what I was wishing for, but god, I'm almost glad I didn't know what it would have been like to have you, because I'm afraid I wasn't smart enough to be able to keep you and it would have killed me to let you go" he whispered, his voice as quiet as possible as he caressed her arms, willing his fingers to move steadily despite the rush of pure adrenalin he felt in his body.
"What were you wishing for?" she asked, her voice a throaty whisper and he felt his mouth go dry, seeing her eyes focus on his lips.
He smirked slightly.
"Having you" he replied, knowing full well she wasn't going to settle for that. Rory found strange enjoyment in torturing him with having to unearth old memories.
"How?" she asked and he could have sworn he saw lust in her eyes.
He swallowed, taking a deep breath.
"I thought about what it would be like to kiss you" he said, his voice painfully honest as he looked her in the eye. He realized that a long time ago: lying to her, or denying her these details would be futile, because she dug and dug until she found what she wanted to hear.
"What it would have been like having sex with you" he went on, intentionally using those words. He wasn't going to lie. Not to her, not to himself. Did he want her back then? Hell yeah. Was he in love with her? God knows. Love is a strong word.
"Was that all you thought about? Physical things?" she asked, her question eager, child like.
"No" he shook his head chuckling "no, we talked sometimes too, in my fantasies" he joked and she rolled her eyes.
"So you fantasized about me?" she asked, catching him off guard. Her question was matter of fact, not teasing or playful.
"Yeah" he admitted as he studied her. Her expression was contemplative.
"You'd imagine us together?" she asked, her brows slightly furrowed, as if she were interviewing him, digging for important pieces of information that would explain who he had been and what he had become.
"Yeah" he answered her watching her reaction, amused, but not allowing the smile to appear that was threatening to spread.
"You'd just lay in bed and think about me?" she went on and he watched her face, studying her every mimic.
The questions were insistent and it made him part frustrated, part aroused, immersing himself in the feelings he used to feel over ten years ago.
"No, not just lay in bed" he replied, his voice slightly sarcastic and she looked up at him, surprised.
"I would masturbate, Rory" he spelled it out for her, his words slow, deliberately outspoken and her name stressed, challenging her efforts to stay with the professional questioning. He could make out the light blush on her face, and her eyes once again turning a deeper shade of blue.
There was a quiet 'oh' forming on her lips, if only for a fraction of a second and he had to control himself, not to kiss those surprised lips.
Instead he held his breath, waiting for her next question.
It didn't come, but he did notice her breathing getting uneven, her eyes boring into his with a startling intensity.
She moved closer to him, climbing into his lap with careful movements, coming to straddle him. He let her, completely passive, studying her movements with restrain, even though he was aching to touch her. She came to rest in his lap, her eyes cast down.
"Was that good?" she asked barely loud enough to hear, her eyes averted and he smirked, at her naivety and her shyness.
"It was as good as it could be" he shrugged, a smile appearing on his lips as he watched her still too shy to meet his eyes.
"Maybe you could have tried a bit harder" she shrugged, wondering out loud.
He scoffed, letting his head fall back as he stared at the ceiling.
"If I would have tried any harder Mary, I would have ended up in jail for harassment" he snickered.
"True" she agreed, finally meeting his gaze.
He had to swallow again, because her proximity, the subject, and that incredible smell of hers was somehow clouding his brain.
"Anyway" he said, taking a deep breath "I was a dumb kid. It wouldn't have been as incredible as you wrote it. I probably would have messed it up".
"You are too hard on yourself" she soothed him and he chuckled, thankful for her concern.
"You think too highly of my teenager self" he remarked.
"I don't. Maybe I romanticized you a bit" she shrugged.
"Romanticized? You made me a wimp, falling over myself" he smirked, the tension slowly breaking in his chest.
"You would have been" she teased, arching an eyebrow.
"Probably" he agreed and she chuckled "But you gotta remember, Gilmore" he whispered into her ear as he pushed her onto her back, moving over her "even if I would have been a nervous wreck... I still could have made you beg".
He smirked as he saw the immediate indignation on her face.
"Full of yourself much, DuGray?" she snickered.
He matched her smile, his lips meeting hers in a slow, teasing kiss.
"You don't believe me?" he whispered, moving down to her jaw and neck, his lips traveling on the surface of her skin, making her shiver.
She exhaled a long, uneven breath and he smiled into her skin, knowing how hard she was concentrating on keeping it together.
He moved further down her body, pulling her shirt up lightly, his lips meeting the warm skin of her stomach and he heard her gasp, as his breath played on her sensitive skin.
"I could right now" he teased, his tone deep and raspy as he licked her skin lightly.
She let out a half scoff half moan and he smirked as he moved further down, pulling up her skirt.
"Tristan" she breathed out and he could picture her face as she waited with her nerve endings fired up, her eyes squeezed together and her muscles tensed throughout her body.
"Yeah Mary?" he teased as his fingers pulled her panties aside.
She moaned again as his hot breath reached her folds, followed by his warm tongue and he couldn't help moaning himself as he tasted her growing wetness.
Suddenly, the goal at hand seemed to dim as he pulled himself closer to be able to taste her more. Her legs spread, giving him access, and his hands traveled under her hips to pull her closer to him.
His tongue dipped deep into her and he felt her clench around him, as her hands found their way into his hair, desperately grasping the messed up locks.
He heard her curse silently and he suddenly remembered his initial task. He smirked again, his tongue finding her swollen clit and he sucked on it, making her gasp again.
He heard her chant his name and he continued, his lips and tongue working in a steady rhythm, as his finger slid into her slick passage. He felt her tense under him and her soft cries sped up, her hands pulling him even closer.
Her smell and taste, and the way her wetness grew around him made him go crazy, his hands trembling lightly as he readjusted his position, trying to relieve some of the tension his growing erection caused.
His mind was threatening to overload and he started his last assault, knowing she would have a hard time resisting this close to her release. He released her clit, licking all the way over her slit with generous laps of his tongue before returning to her nub with even greater intensity.
Her whole body jerked and her moans became continuous, signaling her approaching orgasm.
He suddenly pulled away, desperately trying to still his ragged breathing and he heard her yelp of protest.
He moved up quickly, his eyes coming to level with hers that snapped open, revealing their intense darkness.
"You are heartless" she panted accusingly and he couldn't help but smirk.
"Just say it, Mary" he whispered, his fingers finding her clit again to stress his words.
"Jerk" she breathed out, her eyes squeezing shut again as her hips desperately moved against his fingers.
"I'll be whatever you fucking want me to be, just say it" he replied, his voice deep and throaty.
She inhaled deeply and he knew he had won just then.
"Please" she whispered, her voice quiet, enragingly desperate.
"What?" he coaxed her and he had to still his body, his heartbeats were so intensely vigorous.
"Please Tristan, I want you so bad" she said, opening her eyes to reveal their lust filled deepness and he thought he might cum there and then, feeling her vibrating with want beneath him.
He moved down her body once again, falling between her legs as she offered herself up to him, his lips finding their way back to her sex and she spasmed instantly, his flicking tongue finally pushing her over her edge, her cries of pleasure filling the air around them.
He felt her hands pull him close as her whole body convulsed in pleasure, her sex clenching as he licked her walls for the last remnants of her taste.
She relaxed after long seconds, her body instantly shivering as the waves subsided and he pulled himself up to hold her in his arms. She buried herself deep into his chest and he sighed holding her tight.
"I definitely would have liked this" she murmured into his hold and he laughed wholeheartedly, caressing her hair.
"Yeah?" he said "I think you would have kicked me off if I tried"
She was quiet, taking slow breaths, her whole body trembling slightly with her heartbeat and he smiled, feeling proud of himself for bringing her into this state.
She chuckled, burying her head further into his chest.
"What?" he asked, interested.
She groaned self consciously.
"I am going to regret this" she mumbled as she looked up at him and he could swear, even through her post orgasmic flush that she was blushing.
"What?" he laughed, not understanding.
She took a deep breath and whispered to him, her eyes cast down.
"I used to think of you too".
He choked on his breath, his erection going rock hard once again.
"In Chilton?" he managed.
"No" she laughed, her hands going up to her face as she hid "I didn't do that in Chilton... I was a late bloomer".
He felt a huge grin form on his face and he didn't quite know which new piece of juicy information to dig after.
"I'm sorry, you didn't masturbate until college?" he snickered and she slapped him playfully.
"That interests you more than the fact that I used to think of you when I did it?" she looked him dead in the eye, arching an eyebrow and his mouth went dry when she said it like that, realizing she was right and that this was the more pressing detail.
"When was this?" he asked, and his tone wasn't so playful anymore, his voice going raspy as arousal once again won over.
She shrugged, once again casting her eyes as her hands, as if without aim, wondered to his fly, freeing him of some pressure.
"When you went on business trips" she tried to elude and her hand snaked inside his boxers.
"That's not what you meant" he said, before his eyes rolled back, feeling her grasp him.
He cursed as her hand stroked him gently.
"When I was a freshman, at Yale" she whispered "and sometimes later" she added, seemingly embarrassed.
He smiled, even as his eyes were squeezed shut, concentrating on her hands moving over his length with just the right amount of pressure.
"How come?" he managed to ask opening his eyes to watch her face.
She blushed again, stopping her movements.
"This is embarrassing" she murmured, smiling to herself.
"Hey" he said, getting her attention.
She looked at him and she smiled, lightly rolling her eyes as he guided her hand back to the task at hand.
"I don't know, I didn't like thinking of Brad Pitt, I guess" she shrugged again, continuing to stroke him.
"Baby" he whispered breathlessly, squeezing his eyes shut again, her ministrations once again clouding his brain "not the time to be mentioning Pitt".
"Right, sorry" she giggled, placating him with a firm stroke.
"Oh God" he moaned.
"I guess the thought of you in a uniform... sweaty... dirty...muscular... just popped into my mind one time..." she murmured, trailing off.
He groaned again, imagining her on a dormitory bed, pleasing herself while panting his name, and suddenly her hand around his erection wasn't quite enough.
"Okay, that's it" he said, suddenly rolling over on top of her, taking her by surprise.
"Tristan!" she exclaimed, but his hands already pushed up her skirt, pulling aside her panties, his legs spreading her legs as he guided himself into her.
He watched her eyes close as she moaned out loud and he had to still himself, willing his body back under his control. He braced himself on his arms, brushing the hair out of her face to be able to look at her.
"Tell me more" he said with a poignant thrust and he smiled as she moaned again, her mouth parting slightly.
He felt an incredible urge to kiss that mouth and he did, initiating another trust.
"Tristan" she panted his name against his mouth and he had to hold himself back from wanting to pound into her.
The details were too tempting though, so he slowed down, causing apparent frustration on her face.
"Oh god, I don't know" she groaned, her hands squeezing his butt to coax him into another stroke.
He obliged, his own need for her threatening to split his body.
"I would imagine you taking me by surprise" she breathed out, earning herself another powerful thrust.
"Imagine you fucking me hard" she whispered, her voice so low, he though maybe he just wanted to hear her say that.
Either way, it made him want to ravage her.
"Mary" he breathed, thrusting deep into her.
"Oh yeah" she smiled as her face contorted with pleasure "and that".
He concentrated on her face, motionless, but with his whole body trembling, waiting for her to go on.
"I'd imagine you saying that I wasn't your little Mary anymore... that I was your little slut" she trailed off and he could tell how far gone she was if she had that lack of censor.
"Shit Mary" he groaned, his last ounce of self control snapping with her profanity, his body turning into one pulsating need for release.
He pound into her hard, making her moan out rhythmically as his erection hit deep against her walls.
She panted his name and he sped up even more, arching his back as he drove into her as far as he could.
"You'll always... be... my Mary" he panted, into her ear "even if you... fuck like... a little slut" he gritted out and he could tell that pushed her over the edge because her whole body tensed, her nails digging into his back as she spasmed, screaming his name. His sight went black as his whole body vibrated, feeling everything augmented, her hot, sweaty skin sliding against his, her sex clenching around him, milking his release as well, and he emptied into her with a last deep thrust, a primal cry breaking from his lungs.
He collapsed on top of her, panting, his lungs burning, and his heart pounding. He fought for breath as his shaking hands went up to her face, brushing back her damp hair from her face.
He opened his eyes to watch her face, glowing, a wide grin spreading over her features.
"What?" he breathed, her smile contagious.
She shook her head, eyes squeezed shut and a wide smile on her lips.
"What?" he inquired again, laughing at her protest.
She opened her eyes, their deep blue startling him and he had to remind himself to breathe, his chest suddenly tightening.
"You are so much better than my fantasies" she whispered, blushing slightly.
He chuckled, giving into the urge to kiss her, his tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting her hungrily.
"Ditto" he said, momentarily backing away, before he resumed kissing her.