A/N: Gilmore Girls was my first ever fandom, 20 years ago, and it was the first fandom I wrote for. But back then, there was no way I could do any of the characters justice, nor did I feel comfortable writing smut. But that all has changed, and during my latest rewatch, I fell in love with Luke and Lorelai all over again, and this idea wouldn't let me go. And I couldn't find a fic I liked that dealt with this scenario. So, the only option was to write it myself.

Synopsis: The test-run of the inn. Kirk never interrupted them.

—

As soon as the door of room seven locks into place behind them, Luke wraps Lorelai in his embrace and captures her lips in a way that makes their earlier kisses look like middle-school pecks. Lorelai has to steady herself from the unexpected skill with which he attacks her mouth as their tongues tango and hands and arms tangle in a frenzy.

With nothing but the single bedside lamp lighting the space, her senses are heightened immediately.

Quickly, his lips descend onto her clavicle, leaving a trail of wet kisses and a path of grated skin as he moves up her neck and back down again, all the while fumbling with the knot in her top. His sudden uncoordinated movements hint at an urgency he's barely containing, so she helps him achieve his mission of untying the flaps holding her top in place. He grunts in defeat, but his mouth never leave her surface. Instead, he continues suckling on the spot below her ear because she can't contain the moans escaping her when he does, and she smiles at how fast he's memorizing those details.

Once untied, his palms reach beneath the fabric, stalling on her waist. She shivers from the contact. Or the nerves. Or anticipation. Probably all of the above. But he doesn't move. Instead, he pauses, pulls back to look at her.

Panting lightly, he takes a moment to catch his breath and read her, and she feels raw, exposed—like he's seeing right through her. Of all the people in her life, he's one of the few who really knows her, and that vulnerability adds a depth to the situation she's never experienced with anyone before. She should feel scared, but she feels completely safe. And yet, under his scrutiny, her heart rate soars.

"Are you sure?" he asks. "Once we do this, there's no going back."

She shakes her head. It's just like him to give her out. But that's the last thing she wants. "I don't wanna go back."

A ferocious hunger creeps into his gaze, like a caged animal finally set free, and moments later, her top lands on the floor while she pushes his sweater over his head. Her skirt joins the growing pile of clothes, and she steps out of her shoes. Luke gently but urgently backs her towards the bed, never once breaking the fusion of their mouths. His belt is next, and she has half a mind to wonder if this is the belt she bought for him years ago. There's no time to examine the thing, but by the feel of it, the leather and the clasp are exactly as she remembered, and a ripple of joy surges down her spine.

Her legs hit the edge of the bed frame, and she wriggles backward towards the center of the king-size mattress while Luke shimmies out of his slacks and joins her, towering over her.

His arms are massive. Definitely an attribute she had noticed—and admired—before. But his bare physique had been left to her imagination. Sure, she'd seen him shirtless at the lake once or twice, but that was years ago. Clearly, he's been working out more recently. Perhaps Nicol— No . She can't think about his ex, but if the blonde is the reason he bulked up, she can only be grateful. Because he's built, alright. His chest is broad, his shoulders wide as a canyon, his back a brick of solid muscle. And as he blankets himself over her, propping himself up on his forearms, she can't help but be impressed. And completely turned on. Especially when his hard-on nudges her thigh.

The initial rapture has made room for a welcome calm, both savoring the moment with nothing but exploratory touches and long, deep kisses that curl Lorelai's toes. He captures her hand in his, entwining their fingers.

Wow , Lorelai thinks. Luke is a remarkably good kisser. The stubble is something she'll have to get used to, but besides the scratchiness, he is very generous. Gentle yet determined. He gives her the impression she could steer them in any direction, making her think she could have demands, but he is definitely in the driver's seat, ready to follow his own path. And she has a feeling that isn't limited to how he kisses.

She loves that. In every other aspect of her life, she's the one making all the decisions—she's done so from the moment the strip turned pink at sixteen. Relinquishing control would therefore seem counterintuitive, but instead, it's a welcome change, and as Luke grinds his erection into her pelvis, she's about to beg, Yes! Have your way with me! Please!

Soon, her bra is unclasped, and Luke takes his time admiring her naked figure, first with his eyes and then with his mouth. Her core throbs with anticipation. Especially as he continues his journey south and slips off the bed and onto the floor, her panties leaving with him. Seemingly without effort, he tugs her body to the edge of the mattress and spreads her legs.

She's completely exposed, and again, the reverence in his gaze torches her skin. Thankfully, he doesn't make her wait and covers her arousal with his mouth. By the way he kissed her, it's no surprise he has her on the edge within moments, his tongue driving her slowly insane.

She writhes on the duvet, gripping his hair. Too soon, however, he stops, raises to a stand and takes off his boxers, nonchalantly revealing his burgeoning erection. All she can do is stare, watching him move toward the nightstand, pull open the drawer and retrieve a single Trojan Horse package.

Lorelai relocates to the middle of the bed, the sudden disconnect a chance to gather her rapidly scattering thoughts.

"You came prepared," she says, propped up on her elbows.

"Well, I did buy you flowers," he replies, crawling onto the bed.

"Thought you'd get that lucky, huh?" she says as he stretches out alongside her.

Instead of answering, he kisses her, gently, reverently. "I never thought I'd get this lucky."

Dammit . Damn him for turning a cute, flirty comment into something loaded that has her cheeks flush and her tongue twisted. She doesn't get tongue-tied. Her tongue is as loose as a thread dangling from a worn-out quilt. And it's about time he finds out exactly how loose.

"Allow me," she says, taking the wrapper.

Mild shock and admiration pass over his face. And she loves that. Even though they know each other so well, this is unfamiliar territory for them, and she gets to bewilder him as much as he's baffling her tonight.

He relaxes soon enough as he shifts onto his back, one arm behind his head, tracking her every move.

She starts by leaving a trail of kisses on his chest, down his sternum, carving a path through the soft hairs coating his torso. His abdomen contracts the lower she reaches, and he continues observing her, anticipating the moment when she wraps her palm around his impressive length. She watches him watch her, their gazes locked, the anticipation nearly unbearable.

God, he's perfect , she thinks when she starts pumping him, his eyes finally closing at the sensation. And when she's sure he's not looking, she envelops his tip with her lips.

He jerks, then hisses when she swallows him as far as she can.

"Lorelai."

The warning is one she's familiar with, but it gives her a sense of control that's new, and she doubles down, moving twice as fast until he interrupts her by sitting up, his fingers threading through her hair, forcing her to halt her ministrations.

"You have to stop or this will be over before it begins."

His hooded eyes are clouded with lust, and she can tell he doesn't have a lot of fight in him. He's at her mercy, but she wants to enjoy this, too, so instead of prolonging the torment, she relents and wraps the latex around his arousal. But she's not done. A deep desire rages within her, a desperate need to take the edge off, and as soon as the condom is on, she pushes him back down and straddles his hips. Then she gently guides him between her slick folds, into her core.

Instantly, his hands travel to her waist, her breasts, her ass. "You're so beautiful," he mutters as she attempts to find a rhythm. He's big, and it takes a moment to adjust to his size, but she has no trouble accommodating all of him, and as her body ripples around him, she feels his gaze roam like a feather over her skin.

Soon, her orgasm looms as Luke swells inside her. And the climax builds fast, because his erection hits her just right, and she doesn't even need to touch herself. She only grinds harder, and before long she convulses around him.

Lorelai rides the waves, her legs trembling ever so slightly. When she opens her eyes, Luke is looking at her with a mix of pride and entertainment in his.

She kisses him, because she doesn't know what else to do to wipe that smug grin from his face.

Time disappears when they kiss. Luke clearly takes his time with her, switching their positions along the way. But he appears to have a plan, because before she knows it, he's got her on her side, and he's spooning her, and she helps him to her entrance, and then she's nothing but a rag doll for him to play with. His huge arms wrap around her, holding her immeasurably close, and she grabs onto him for dear life, perfectly content with the change in dynamic.

"You feel so good," he murmurs in her ear, and her body shivers with delight. He's everywhere. Filling her. Squeezing her. And she feels another climax building, but before it has a chance to reach any height, she's pushed onto her knees, and he's gripping her hips and pounding into her. She tries to brace herself, but every time she finds purchase, he changes the angle just enough to leave her scrambling for respite.

She's dizzy from the onslaught, powerless to the pleasure he provides and the stamina he possesses. And she no longer knows who she is, where she is, or why she's waited so long to be with Luke. Because he's amazing. And she's rapidly losing her mind, breathless from the exertion. Thankfully, the only conscious thought she has keeps her from screaming his name. Because they're having sex at the Inn. Her inn. The one currently filled with all their friends. So, she moans into the sheets and then mumbles softly, "Luke, I'm coming."

He takes her cue, rolls her onto her back and lifts a leg over his shoulder, and she knows it's over for her, especially as his hand lands on her pubic bone and he rubs her into oblivion. A few thrusts later, she's spasming, her body shaking like a leaf caught in a winter storm.

Luke lowers her leg and kisses her tenderly, luring her back down to earth. He's close, too. She knows he is from the slow increase in desperate growls. And when he buries his face into her neck, she coaxes him on by wrapping her legs around his waist and scraping her nails over his scalp, down his back and up again, creating a soft place to land.

"Let go for me."

Soon enough, his body goes rigid, the long fuuuuuuck he grunts marking his release. His hips jerk a few more times, and then he collapses on top of her, panting, and she holds him close, letting his weight pin her down, feeling his heart hammer against her chest.

"That was… You were…" She doesn't know how to put into words the experience she just had.

He kisses her, and she's glad for the distraction.

"Good?" he asks, tentative, almost shy.

"Hmm." Tiny hairs damp with sweat stick to his forehead, and she wipes away the residual drops, grateful for the effort. "Very good."

"Good." He smiles. His eyes, though shimmering with exhaustion, gleam with joy. And she imagines her own must mirror his, because she can't stop grinning. She just had sex with Luke Danes. Sex. Good sex. Great sex. Some of the best she's had. And this is likely only the beginning. It's a lot to take in, and when he untangles himself to go to the bathroom, the bubble bursts, and she immediately misses the contact.

The room looms large. Lorelai spent hours with the decorator to get it just right, never thinking she'd be making use of the bed on the very first night they had guests. Her christening the inn can only mean good things, and she smiles at the thought as she rises. She can't stay with Luke, anyway. Rory is probably already next door, wondering what's keeping her. So, she gets up, too, and starts dressing. Luke soon joins her, putting on his boxers and helping her retrieve all the discarded clothes.

Once she's dressed and has gathered her shoes in her hands, he's by her side, holding her waist, and then he kisses her again, and she feels a new need rise deep in her soul.

When they break for air, silence stretches between them. Suddenly, the implications of their actions drape like a heavy blanket over them. She doesn't want to leave; won't disturb this perfect bubble of their blossoming romance. She wants to stay right here, in his arms. Screw the world, and the inn, and whatever responsibilities they both have. But he drags reality into the room, when he says. "Now what?"

His nervous grip indicates he's probably as unsure as she is. It's a comforting thought; to know they're in this together. But he has nothing to worry about. She wants this— him —just as much.

"I'm going to my room and think about everything we did in here." She smirks up at him, and his doubts deflate. A hint of a smile tells her he will do exactly the same. "And tomorrow, you can take me out on a proper date."

He nods, relief visible in his tired eyes. "Deal."

Without her heels on, she has to stand on her tiptoes to reach him, so she does, kissing him one last time before forcing herself to pull away. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Before he lets her leave, he peers outside to make sure there are no busybodies lurking around, and when the coast is clear, he holds the door open, and she slips out. She can't keep herself from glancing at him, his familiar sweet smile a thin veil for the marvelous lover she now knows he is—and that knowledge has her stomach aflutter. The world has changed. Her friendship with Luke has changed. And for once, she couldn't be more excited about the change. Luke can most certainly waltz.