A/N: Characters are not mine.

And not to be cliché, but this my very first fan fiction.

Luke stood in the shower, hand against the wall, head bowed in frustration. Water sprayed the back of his neck and he tried desperately to ignore the persistent, achy feeling in his groin. It had been almost a full week since there'd been any kind of relief to speak of.

And even then, it was in his sleep, just a natural reaction from his body, a sort of physical non-sequiter. He felt like a 12-year-old, washing his sheets in the middle of the night, trying not to wake anyone. 'This is ridiculous,' he thought. 'You're almost 40, for chrissakes, and suddenly it's like puberty all over again.'

He tried not to think about it, though knew why he just couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. This had happened with Rachel, too, after she left.

The first few years he knew Lorelai, when she first started coming to the diner- leaning over the countertop in her low-cut shirts, cocking her eyebrow, biting her lip and giving him that particular look- she was easily the female lead in every fantasy he had. He didn't think twice about it, feel guilty over it, or let it interfere with their casual exchanges.

It was just a part of his routine. Every morning, almost as soon as he stepped into the shower, before his head was totally clear from sleep, he would wait patiently for the hot water to kick in and close his eyes. Frames flickered through his mind's eye in rapid succession- grabbing her waist, sliding hands up her sides, under her shirt, clutching her thighs, pushing her up against the wall of the bedroom, hoisting her up onto his hips, listening to her pant in his ear… it didn't take much.

Afterward, he'd let the stream of water hit his face, slap the soapy washcloth around a bit and be ready to start his day, clean and alert. There was no feeling attached, no yearning, no emotion. He didn't think twice about it.

At least, not until he was in a relationship.

It stopped when he dated other people. Everything stopped, or changed somehow, or moved forward, it seemed. While he was with Nicole, or with Rachel, he was obviously forced to adjust his routine. He considered it one of the many inconveniences that come with being in a serious relationship, but figured it was a small price to pay for all of the good things that are supposed to come along with it. His shower time was considerably shorter, sure. But he had someone to share a closet with, someone to help him to bed after dozing off on the couch. Those things were nice. And he was usually successful in avoiding thoughts of Lorelai handing him the conditioner while he was shampooing.

Rachel and Nicole, his two major relationships, were completely different from one another, in terms of the way they dictated Luke's sex life. Rachel's libido had proven far stronger than his from the very beginning; the first time they dated seriously, she demanded it morning, noon and night, teaching him along the way and attentively moulding him into precisely what she looked for in a lover.

Though she was thoroughly exhausting, both in body and in spirit, he began to love the element of surprise and chaos she brought to his sheltered world, the way she coaxed him out of his shell, the way she opened new doors to him, to see things in new ways, to try out a new extension of himself. It was the first time he'd had sex on a regular basis, and it wasn't difficult to get used to. But it wasn't long before their insistent, purely carnal acts become something much more- more slow and meaningful, complete with long looks, tenderness, passion, candles, lots of those bare-faced heartfelt expressions of true love. It wasn't long before he regarded her as not only that first love, but his life, the thing he'd go to any lengths to protect. And, predictably, it wasn't long after that that she left.

After their break-up, it was immediately clear to everyone around him that he had been ripped open emotionally. And dealing with the town was hard enough. But her sudden departure was made worse by the fact that his body didn't really seem affected by it… that is to say, it went about it's daily motions, like any healthy body, demanding food and water and physical activity and everything else. Mentally, he was destroyed. Yet every morning, without fail, he was left with a blatant, and soon quite painful, reminder that she wasn't there. He had to go back to depending on himself for that sort of thing, because she was gone. And he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it, because reliving anything sexual would be tracing back steps into an area of his mind he was struggling to leave behind.

With Nicole, however, it had been quite different. Everything with Nicole had been different, to be honest. Though she was attractive, and attracted to him, their sexual encounters were rather perfunctory, often polite affairs. They never lasted long, because lord knows that would've been distasteful, not to mention time-consuming.

You know, there comes a certain intimacy with someone once you've seen them orgasm; you've watched as they've been at their most uninhibited, their least controlled. It's even been at your hands, you're the cause of that wrinkled brow, the shuddering body, that look of unbridled lust. That was the best thing about being intimate with someone for Luke, being able to make someone he loved feel sort of the physical equivalent of that happiness inside them, and the satisfaction that comes along with it.

Only with Nicole, that bond didn't really exist between them, at least not on his part. He was careful with her, considerate of her needs, but rather… passionless, sort of dutiful. He had trouble pinpointing why, but he knew, even then, that Lorelai's perfume stirred more in him than what he and Nicole shared in their bed a few nights a week.

And as much as he tried not to think about Lorelai that next morning, sometimes it couldn't be helped.

But his feelings for Lorelai, after Nicole cheated on him, grew into something quite powerful. The way he'd been so sexually attracted to her in the beginning of their relationship… that's what he was experiencing now, only in his heart. The thought of them together, the thought of her expressing an interest in him, the idea that maybe he could share his life with her, made him ache inside. Not completely unlike the ache he felt down below as well. An intense longing that he had no sense of control over.

It was a thing with him. While he and the Lorelai in his head had enjoyed many years of passionate sex, once his real feelings entered into it, he just couldn't bring himself to do it anymore. He felt that... to imagine her, while he did something like that, would be like defiling her or… or... making her dirty in some way. He couldn't quite explain it, but he just didn't want to expose her, even a fictional version of her, to the dark and seedy side of his mind. He knew, standing in that shower, that the next time Lorelai was the cause of his orgasm, it would have to be a personal appearance.

He slid open the shower door, frustrated but determined to end this silly mess that had gone on too long. He finished getting ready and descended the stairs, rolling up his flannel sleeves and adjusting his cap. Today was going to be the day that he finally told her how he felt. Because, dammit, even if she rejected him, then maybe he'd be able to move on and actually have a real orgasm.