Chapter 48: Anniversary

She was nervous. Her hands were shaking slightly as she reached out to press the doorbell and she knew it wasn't from the cold. In their three month relationship, Rory had stood outside Tristan's door many times and she was never as nervous as she was at that moment.

Of course, those times she hadn't planned to go in and lose her virginity.

As always, she had really planned the night: with a pro/con list and then she had even made up a scenario in her mind about how she would actually go about seducing Tristan into bed. Of course, if he didn't do it first. Which she was sure that he would and that - the not knowing how it was going to play out - that just added to her nervousness.

Wringing her hands together, she pushed her hair away from her face and mentally reassessed the way she was dressed. She had on Louise's dress, her hair was left open, her make-up was impeccable and she looked the part of a mature, healthy young adult who was ready to have sex.

Except, maybe you aren't, a tiny voice muttered inside of her. If you're so nervous, you know. Just a thought. She shook her head to clear herself of negative thoughts. She wanted this…she wanted him. So much that it scared her a little bit. It's just Tristan, she soothed herself for the umpteenth time. You trust him and care about him. Everything is going to be perfect.

The door opened and Tristan stood there, dressed perfectly in grey slacks and a soft, powder blue sweater that set off his eyes. His mouth stretched in a smile as his gaze met hers. "Rory, you look incredible."

Feeling ridiculous for the blush that stained her cheeks, she stepped inside and tried to make light of the tension cackling between them. "And I haven't even taken off my coat."

He grinned and reached for it. "Well then let me get that for you."

When he took it off, she gave an elaborate twirl for effect and so that he could see the expanse of skin on her back that the dress didn't cover. When she turned her heel and saw the look in his eyes, she knew she had hit the bulls-eye with her choice. Thank you Louise, she thought silently and smiled. "You like?"

He cleared his throat and murmured, "Happy anniversary, Tristan."

She giggled, stepped closer and took his face in her hands. "Yes; Happy anniversary, Tristan."

He repeated the sentiment and kissed her, melting away all her fears.

"I can't believe you did all this," Rory stated again as she looked across the candlelit table at Tristan. At his look, she chuckled and amended, "Okay, I mean, had all this done."

"Stop sounding so surprised, Gilmore," Tristan chided as he reached for her hand. "I have been known as a romantic."

She giggled and looked around the room again. Tristan had transformed the DuGrey's living room into something out of a Disney movie. Thousands of flowers, roses, lilies, and bluebells filled the room. Candles were lit everywhere so they really didn't need any extra lighting, the fireplace was blazing softly and the room was devoid of all furniture except for the exquisite mahogany table he'd set up for their dinner. Furthermore, as Tristan had informed her, the help had scrubbed every inch of the room to make sure it was perfect for their night.

Soft strands of music played throughout the main sound system, apparently heard throughout the whole mansion.

Rory was glad his parents were out of the town and the help had been instructed to be extra invisible that night – she didn't want Tristan's blatant seduction to be such public knowledge.

And to think she had come in with her mind set on seducing him into bed.

At that thought, Rory picked up her champagne glass (the bottle he acquired without his father's consent) and drowned the last sip. She raised it and tipped it in the direction of the bucket of ice by his side. "I think champagne is my new favorite drink."

Though his brows furrowed a bit – it was her fourth glass that evening – a smirk tugged at his lips. "I think coffee will be very offended."

"It'll understand."

Tristan pointed his fork at her. "You haven't eaten all that much. Not up to your standards, I presume?"

She blushed slightly. "It's wonderful. I ate, I guess I'm just not that hungry."

He reached across the table for her hand and smiled. "Well then dance with me, Rory. Before dessert."

As she got up, she wondered if the 'dessert' he planned was sex. Because if so, she'd need more champagne. "Okay, but bring the bottle with you."

"Well come back for it later," he answered easily and pulled her close. When his mouth was next to her ear and his arm securely around her waist, he whispered, "Let me hold you, Ror."

"Okay," she answered and settled in his arms, snuggling against his chest. "Mm, you smell wonderful."

He chuckled. "Thanks."

When the strands of a familiar song started to play, she lifted her head and stared at him in surprise. "Is this…you remembered?"

"Of course. The first song we ever danced to…"

"Wow."

And if I had more than wealth could buy,

I'd sell it all and start again

For just a chance with you

Girl, I'd give my all to win your love.

And I would be rich

And I would build all my world around you,

Just to show you

How you take my breath away.

And you would fine love, sweet lady

Nobody else this side of heaven knows,

How you take my breath away.

"You do realize that this is 98 Degrees, right?"

He looked down at her, smiling. "I am aware, yes."

"So you're saying this is our song, then?" she asked looking a little worried.

"Well, for now," he answered quickly. "Until we find something better, something more us."

"Okay," she answered and then lifted her mouth to his, for a kiss.

His hands skimmed down her bare back and then up again, into her hair as he angled her head, thrusting his tongue deeply into the hot wetness of her mouth. She moaned against him, stopped swaying, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Every soft contour of her body pressed against him, as his body strained, demanded more. Slower, slower, he told himself as greed and lust swept through him. You promised yourself you'd go slowly with her.

The weeks of torture, of being in her arms, of doing everything but what he really wanted to do were driving him insane, and her own hungry response to his kiss wasn't helping his resolve either. She had been shy and fearful in the beginning of their sexual escapades, and he had tightly reined in his control - something he had never been good at - for her sake. He had resolved to inch pass all of the barriers, making her feel more comfortable with him, showing her exactly what it was that the mere sight of her did to him, showing her that sex could be intimate and bring them closer together.

And it had worked. Soon, she had matched him desire for desire, need for need as she shed her inhibitions, followed his lead and let him discover every glorious, sensuous inch of her body.

As torturous as it had been for him to take it slow when all he wanted to do was grab her hips and sink into her, he had known that it was much different for her and the only way he'd get his wish was if he went slow. So he wasn't about to let weeks of frustrated foreplay be ruined by his raging hormones and his need for lightening speed gratification.

He wasn't going to lose her when he was so close to having all of her.

With Herculean effort, he reached up for her arms, unwinding them from him and tearing his mouth away from her. Her eyes fluttered open, her eyes filled with desire and confusion as she pulled her swollen lower lip between her teeth.

He almost groaned and fought back the urge to pull her against him. He brought his hand (damn it, why was it shaking?) to her face and tucked her hair behind her ear. Smiling gently, he steadied his breathing and said, "We still have dessert."

She smiled impishly, running her hands up his chest. "I thought that's what we were having just then."

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. Jesus, she was trying to kill him.

She was exceedingly tipsy. Oh hell, who was he kidding? Rory was drunk.

If he hadn't been watching his plans of slow, gentle seduction slowly crumble with every sip of champagne she took, he would have found her drunken ramblings hilariously endearing. She was leaning forward and talking animatedly about…well, almost everything, as she gulped down four more glasses of champagne. She had only finished one fourth of her tiramisu – which should have alerted Tristan to the fact that his chocolate/coffee loving girlfriend, preferred alcohol to caffeine and sugar.

"You know what another funny animal is?" Rory asked, straying off to another tangent. "An emu."

"A what?"

"An emu, Trisstan," she replied, slurring a little. Then she giggled. "It's like an ostrich but it's not. It's a poor man's ostrich! God, they're so ugly."

"And you've seen an emu up close and personal, have you?" he asked, resigned to her intoxication.

"On the Discovery Channel, duh, Tristan," she replied, waving her fork. "Animal Planet is like my favorite show EVER."

"Okay," he said, hands in the air. "I believe you."

She pouted and extended her glass in his direction. "More please."

"No," he said firmly, put his napkin next to his dessert plate and stood up. "I think eight is your limit."

"One more," she cajoled her blue, sleepy eyes wide and pleading. "Please."

"So you can hate me in the morning for getting you drunk?" he asked a little testily. "No thank you. Now get up, Rory."

"Where are we going?"

"Upstairs."

Instantly, her features sobered and she hiccupped. "Oh."

Tristan let out a frustrated breath. Christ, the look on her face was amazing. She looked like he was about to take her upstairs to execute her. After all this time, he thought she was ready to have sex with him. It wasn't like what they had been up to for the past month or so was anything innocent – Rory was definitely exuding signs of wanting to take that final jump.

But tonight was a different story altogether.

He should have recognized much sooner that she was plowing herself with alcohol to be pleasantly numb for the whole experience. This meant, explicitly, she wasn't ready at all. Just because he thought three months was plenty time to get used to the idea of having sex with him, didn't mean she did.

God, he was such a jackass. He had been so careful so that she wouldn't feel even the slightest amount of pressure to only heap it all on her shoulders at the last minute.

Snapping out of his self-disgust, he helped Rory to her feet and resolved to make it up to her the minute she sobered. "Come on, babe."

She turned and wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest. "Tristan?"

"Yes?" he asked, running a soothing hand down her back.

"I really want to do this." He tightened his grip and thought, No, you don't. "I've wanted you for so long. I mean not so long because when I first met you I could barely stand you. Not barely stand you but you were making a jackass out of yourself and I couldn't be bothered and -"

"I know, Rory," he said, fighting back the ridiculous urge to laugh.

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "But somewhere along the way, way before we started all this sex stuff…I wanted you. I think."

He studied her face for a minute, her eyes were still unfocused, but it was like she was lucid somewhere in the back of her head, and then nodded. "Okay. I've wanted you since I first saw you."

She nodded and returned her head to his chest. "I know. And that scared the crap out of me."

"I'm sorry." He reached down and scooped her into his arms. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"In bed, of course," she said and nodded. "I know you'll take care of me."

Tristan tried not to stumble as he carried her to the stairs. Rhett Butler made this look much, much easier, he thought as he adjusted Rory in his arms. He tried to lighten the mood and smirked, "Since I know you won't remember this come morning, you are not as light as you look, Rory Gilmore."

She nodded. "I have heavy bones. Trissstan, I have condoms in my purse."

He nearly missed a step. "Fuck, Gilmore."

"Maybe we should go get them. I want to be safe. My mom would freak if she knew I had unprotected sex. I don't want to be thinking of my mom."

"Babe, I have condoms in my room." Tristan reached the top of the stairs and headed for his bedroom.

"Of course you do," she said with a small giggle. "Silly me. I just wanted everything to be perfect," she continued to ramble as he laid her on the bed. "I mean just perfect for you and for me. Everyone makes such a big deal about sex, you know?"

He looked down at her affectionately as he sat down next to her. "I know. It is a big step."

She sat up on the bed and threw her hands up. "Exactly! And I wanted to know for sure that it was…you know…perfect. For me and especially for you. And that I am ready and it's all good and…perfect. Am I making any sense, Tristan? Are you even listening?"

"Perfectly. Now let's get you out of that dress so you can be more comfortable." He nodded as he reached behind her to pull down the zipper of her dress. She allowed him to push the straps off her shoulders. When the material fell away from her upper body, revealing the sexy-as-hell, lacey, black bra she was wearing underneath, Tristan groaned out loud. "Jesus Christ, Rory."

"I bought it last week," she shared with him as she reached behind to unclasp it. He grabbed her hands and stopped her before he forgot his noble intentions. She looked up at him, blue eyes shining earnestly. "I wanted to be perfect for you."

He swallowed hard and touched the side of her face. "Rory."

She reached up and grabbed the back of his head and pulled his face closer to hers. "I love you."

Before he could even process her declaration, her lips were on his, kissing him sweetly, sloppily - drunkenly. He gave in, kissing her back earnestly, taking control. She sighed happily against him and pulled him onto the bed. He obliged and covered her body with his, bracing himself on his elbows as he kissed her.

Hearing those words, coming from her; he was overcome with his feelings for her and for a second, he forgot that she was drunk and not in possession of all her mental capabilities. He knew that if she were, she was be freaking out rather than submitting so easily.

I love you.

She had no idea how dangerous those words were and he had no idea how much her saying them – drunk or not – would affect him.

He trailed his lips down her neck as she mewled in his ear, arching her body into his and softly running her hands through his hair. His mouth traveled lower and he wrapped his lips around the black lace covering her nipple.

Stop! A voice shouted suddenly. What are you doing? She's drunk and you will not take advantage of her. He wrenched away from her and shook his head to clear the haze of desire. Rory's eyes were still closed and she was sighing, almost…sleepily.

"Ror, I'll be right back."

Her eyes fluttered open and she focused on him for a second, snuggling into the pillows as he hands fell away from him. "Okay. Come back quick."

He kissed her forehead and ordered himself to move away from her. His body protested but his mind was made up and he grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand and fled to the bathroom. Once inside, he leaned against the door and took a few deep breaths to calm his system and muttered. "I swear I should get a medal."

He flipped open his phone and searched for a number before hitting send. Bringing the phone to his ear he waited for an answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey Lorelai, it's Tristan."

"Tristan," she said sounding slightly alarmed. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," he reassured her and then sighed. "It's just that, um, Rory's a little tipsy."

"Oh."

"Yeah and I thought it was better if she slept it off here," he said. "And if she's feeling better and it's not late, I'll drive her home."

"Yeah…I mean, no," Lorelai said sounding distracted. "Stay there. She can come home in the morning."

He was surprised by her response but shrugged. "Okay. I just wanted to let you know that she's fine. I shouldn't have let her have so much champagne. There's no excuse I can make that you'll believe but I take full responsibility."

Lorelai sighed. "No, that's not fair. But thank you for being honest."

"Okay."

She waited a minute and then said, "And thanks for calling."

"No problem. Goodnight Lorelai."

He hung up and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was definitely a new experience for him - usually it was the girl locked in the bathroom making SOS calls or reassuring mothers that they were okay. Chuckling, he opened the door only to be greeted by the soft snoring of his girlfriend, asleep on his bed, clad in sheer black lace.

A certain part of his anatomy stirred at the sight and he sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that night. "Yeah, definitely a medal."

To Be Continued…