Author's Notes: Hello people who were nice enough to read this, I'm Searching and I have recently been inspired to write for the first time. This is my first fic and hopefully it's not complete shit. It is a typical affair one-shot and this is absolutley a TRORY. It is post-Yale. I checked for any mispellings and stuff and hopefully it doesn't have any hardcore ones. I know how annoying it is to read stories with ridiculous errors. And Reviews are greatly appreciated!

Rating: M...This has a lot of sexual content but then again which good affair story doesn't. It's rated for language too. If you are offended by thing like that, please don't read it. I'd rather you don't read it as opposed to reading it and then flaming it.

Disclaimer: I wished I owned Gilmore Girls and it's charcters, but I don't. I don't own NeYo and his song Because of You either.

Summery:He knew he should have walked away, but he couldn't. He was hooked.




Why did he always get into situations such as these? Why did everything good in his life come with a catch? Maybe it was Karma for all the shit he's done before. He wasn't exactly innocent when he was in school and Karma was a bitch, but seriously why him? He kept asking himself if it's worth it, if he should keep doing this, if he should keep going along with this stupid shitty situation. But who's he kidding? He was hooked, he was fucking hooked.

It was a constant craving. You know the type; the one that keeps nagging at your mind like a tick until you get a taste of it and even then you're not satiated. All he did with his life, it seemed, was think about it; when he's doing rounds in the hospital, when he's working out, even when he's showering, especially when he was showering. He couldn't get enough of it; the intoxication, the euphoria, the ultimate high that made his blood rush and his mind crash into oblivion over and over again. It had gotten to the point that it wasn't even about want anymore, it was fucking need. Yes, Tristan DuGrey, the one person who had never needed anything from anyone in his entire life, needed her, the girl who got away, the girl he couldn't have. How ironic.


"Tristan! What are you doing?" Her voice was sharp and imprisoning. "Logan is right outside. We can't do this right now."

"Like he'll notice anyway. But seriously woman, are you trying to kill me with that dress." The delicate navy blue silk dress, ethereal and filmy, flowed against her body, skimming her limbs in a way that gave him an enticing view of her curvaceous body, even in all the darkness of the coatroom.

"Tristan, you know the agreement. I can't risk fooling around here."

"Oh come on, baby, what's life without a couple of risks." He said with a smirk as he moved in on her, his body pressing hers against the wall. Dear god, it's almost only her under this dress he though. He could feel her breasts, her stomach, her legs, her hips, her sex, all so clearly that it was almost painful. He seriously needed to fuck her up against the wall that very second and he had every intention of doing so. "You know you want this as much as I do, if not more."

"Don't get cocky, Tristan," she spat. Her tone was still unwavering but her breathing was slightly more irregular.

"To late for that" he whispered as he pressed his lower body into hers. An unconscious shiver broke out of her body which excited him further. He started rubbing her bare arms up and down with feather touches while continuing to whisper into her ear. "Why would you wear this dress for me if you didn't want me to react this way?"

"Wooo, back up, who said I wore this dress for you," she said with a smirk that mirrored his.

His hands stopped their movements on her arms and tighten their hold. "Of course you did. Who else did you wear it for? Logan, yea right. Well, did he notice? Did he even take a second look? I mean, why should he when he has that slut of a secretary at his every beck and fucking call?" She stiffened at his biting words and even he winced at how cold they came out. He couldn't help it though. His animosity for Logan was all too clear.

"Well just because I didn't wear it for Logan, doesn't mean I fucking wore it for you!" She hissed as she tried to push him away. He held his ground but he took his hands off her arms and placed them over her hands which were still on his chest.

"Why are you still with him? He treats you like shit and doesn't give a rat's ass about you. He doesn't fucking deserve you. Why don't you just break it off? You can't even say it's because of the good sex cause I know for a fact there is no sex. So, why are you still with him?" Their blue eyes bore into each other for a moment before she gave him a soft answer that took his breath away like a blow to the stomach.

"Because with him, I can't get hurt again."

Instantly his lips were on hers and she soon responded. She kissed him slowly, profoundly, erotically covering his entire mouth with hers, as if she wanted to consume it. He grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her flush against his body, as he kissed her back with hard, heated lips.

He was reeling because she was warmer than he expected and small and fit so perfectly against him. And he could feel her; really feel her body through the thin material; chest heaving, heart pounding, stomach pressed to his, an involuntary thrust of her hips - sweet lord he needed her.

At first his mouth devoured hers, ruthlessly bruising and pulling on the tender flesh. And she responded with like passion, moaning loudly, while her fingers tangled themselves in his hair and clung to it as one would a lifeline. But as he realized he was being too brutal to her lips when she stiffened in his arms, Tristan gentled his kiss. He wooed her with his mouth till she opened hers in invitation. His tongue darted in an out, teasing her own tongue, coaxing it to dance. Then he sucked on her lower lip as if it was a nipple. On and on he suckled until the soft pink flesh was swollen and she stood hot and quivering against him.

He slowly set his forehead on hers and stared into her eyes which had significantly become darker with the flood of passion. He began to move his hands down her arms and to the side of her body. Blond hair brushed softly against her shoulder as he bent his head and placed butterfly kisses on the side of her neck. His hands continued to travel over her dress. One hand roamed from her sides to her breasts, as he cupped one with his hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. The other hand made its way along the front of her thigh and up under her skirt, lightly scraping against the baby-soft skin with his nails. She was trembling now.

"Tristan…" she half moaned, half whispered. "Tristan…I…"

"Shhh… I got you, baby." He slowly slid the thin straps of her dress down her arms, allowing the top of her dress to pool at her waist. Just as he imagined, there was nothing under that dress save underwear.

"You have too many clothes on!" He chuckled at her comment.

"That didn't seem to much a problem to you a minute ago." He continued to whisper into her ear as he pulled on lobe into his mouth, gentle tugging on it with his teeth. Her hands briefly stopped their war with his clothes. Tristan wasn't shocked by her reaction. By now, he was very familiar with her sweet spots.

He felt her hands at his hips, clasping his belt buckle and undoing it. It was getting harder and harder for him to concentrate on anything. All he could feel was this incredible need to touch her, kiss her, to be inside her. He wanted to disappear into her. His hand inched its way up her thigh, making her dress rise little by little. Slowly his hand grazed the bottom of her panties. His hand cupped her mound and she writhed against him. By now she was tugging on his belt and pants. He quickly discarded her underwear and she pushed his pant and boxer down at once.

He licked his lips and brought his hand down to her center, rubbing against her smooth folds, smirking when his fingers became instantly drenched. "Who'd you wear the dress for?" He might have been in a state of great discomfort but he needed her to give in. To give into her need for him and only him. Her dark eyes snapped open at his words.

"Not for you, if that's what you think." He knew she was stubborn. It was just as much of a battle against her own heart as it was a battle against him. Opening up to him, he knew, would make her feel vulnerable to same pain she had felt before. A pain she desperately vowed never to feel again. Even though he wasn't completely in a relationship with her, it would never stop him from hating the person who had made her into the woman she was now, as much as he liked her the way she was. But right now Tristan needed her to forget Logan; he needed to erase everything but his name from her mind.

She began to whimper as his fingers began to tease the bundle of nerves that could drive any women over the edge without a man even entering her. "Tell me, come on, tell me that you wore it for me and only me," he whispered into her sensitized ear as he continued his torturous ministrations. Pushing her pelvis into his hand, she still didn't answer. But slowly she tried to take back some control. Bringing her hand down, she grabbed him hard and she began moving her hand up and down, enjoying the primal groans coming from his lips against her neck.

He brought his hand down to her thigh and lifted it and instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing her further into the wall. At this point he was pressed against her entrance. Her eyes snapped to his, stormy and blue, and she waited for him to push inside, writhing with impatience. But he didn't.

"Tristan…" she panted as she dug her finger nails painfully into his shoulders and her legs tightened around him.

"Just admit it and I swear I'll give you what you want and more. Cut the shit and just say it!" He was loosing his patience but he had to get her to say it, for his sake and hers. His thumb went down to her clit once again to further her torment. With that and him pressed right at her entrance, she soon began to tear with frustration.

"Fuck you! ... God, I hate you so much… Fine…I wore it for you and only you."

He captured her lips in a passionate kiss as he wiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. And as promised, without warning, he finally trusted home. She gasped and his forehead came to rest on hers.

"Tristan…"she whispered.



Albert Schweitzer once stated, "In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being." Tristan didn't believe in this statement anymore than the moment he "re-met" her. Before her, nothing in his life enticed him; nothing held his attention but his patients. He usually went the dumb, blond bimbo who was more plastic than not. His usual theory on relationships was still the same one he had always had: "Use 'em, and lose 'em." It was convenient for people such as him who have high demanding jobs. But the moment she walked into the room, his body "burst into flame," quite literally.

It was her innocence, he believed, that originally caught his eye back then, but this time it was different. She was anything but innocent. She had matured over the years and with this age brought a new self-confidence that thrummed through her blood like a tangible drug. He found it sexy as hell. The same silk chestnut hair was now worn in loose curls flowing over her shoulders and the once soft round face had sharpened with elegant angles. She had developed the perfect shape as well; curves in all the right places and an ass that would make Jessica Alba jealous. Those striking cerulean eyes, however, were still the same; demanding attention wherever they looked.

Tristan wasn't shocked at the fact that she had become this gorgeous woman, no; that was pretty much a given. What shocked the hell out him was her complete 180 change in moral. From what he could remember, she was always the loyal girlfriend who believed in long term relationships. She was the complete opposite now, detached and rarely emotional. The integrity of her situations didn't enter her mind as much. Consequences rarely ever reared its ugly head.

She wouldn't offer him a real relationship but she was willing to give him some part of her. He knew he should have just left and not get further involved but he couldn't help it. The passion shared between them was too strong to ignore. He couldn't stop thinking about the moments they shared together: the way he fit into her like a puzzle piece; each of her curves molding perfectly into the panes of his body, the fact that her endless legs were as if they were made to wrap specifically around his waist, or how her ivory soft skin rubbing against his made him delirious.

Going from girl to girl for some reason just didn't seem enough anymore. Her moans were the only ones that he was interested in hearing anymore. Her slightest shiver ignites the fire that goes straight down to his core. Never before did it matter to him if his partner was pleased as long as he got off, but with her it was always different. He worked, if not harder, to pleasure her. And only in her moans and groans did he receive pleasure. He wanted it all for himself; he wanted her to be his for the taking whenever he wanted. He simply couldn't get enough of her.

She had become his vice, his habit, his addiction, his obsession. She was no longer just a want, but a need. And the thought of such a development scared the shit out of him because there was no definite; there was no for sure. She could end this "relationship" whenever the hell she wanted. He knew he should walk away but he couldn't because after all of this, she unfortunately had become the sweetest drug.

Because of You by NeYo

Want to, but I can't help it
I love the way it feels,
It's got me stuck between my fantasy and what is real
I need it when I want it, I want it when I don't
Tell myself I'll stop everyday, knowin' that I won't

I got a problem and I don't know what to do about it
Even if I did, I don't know if I would quit but I doubt it
I'm taken by the thought of it, and I know this much is true
Baby, you have become my addiction, I'm so strung out on you
I can barely move but I like it

And it's all because of you
And it's all because...
Never get enough,
She's the sweetest drug

Think of it every second
I can't get nothing done,
Only concern is the next time, I'm gonna get me some
Know I should stay away from, cause it's no good for me
I try and try but my obsession wont let me leave

I got a problem and I don't know what to do about it
Even if I did, I don't know if I would quit but I doubt it
I'm taken by the thought of it, and I know this much is true
Baby, you have become my addiction, I'm so strung out on you
I can barely move but I like it

Because of you,
And it's all because of you,
Never get enough
She's the sweetest drug, she's the sweetest drug




AN: Once again, Hopefull it wasn't that bad. If you haven't figured, it was written from Tristan's point of view. I thought it would be a little more interetsing and unique that way. Please review and tell me what you think. It would mean the world! Seriously.