Title: Slow Burn
Disclaimer: Characters of Gilmore Girls don't belong to me, just the plot line below.
Timeline: Summer set after 1x22 - Love, Daises and Troubadours.
Summary: And all she can think is how much she loves this slow burn. Trory. Smutty one-shot. Rory's POV.
Author's note: I am truly and utterly sorry about the delay on both of TCE and AOS. My life is currently shamble like at the moment and I just haven't had the time to write. That being said, this is just a story that I had logged up a while back and I thought that hopefully will tide you guys over for it a bit.
This was written about 2 months ago when all the winter cold was making me crave good ol' hot Aussie summer. So I thought what better way to warm up than with a quick summer Trory piece? Except what started as short just got blown away. Inspired by the song, 'Put Your Lights On' by Santana feat. Everlast (a truly awesome song). I wasn't too sure about this piece but all you wonderful readers definitely deserve something for being this patient with me.
Enjoy and don't forget to review please!
The small drop of perspiration trickles from the edge of her hair, running quickly down her flushed cheek before resting against the corner of her dried lips.
Her tongue swings out and runs across her cracked lips, as she lies in the long grass staring out into the blue cloudless sky. Her body gleans with a thin sheet of perspiration, as small droplets of sweat cling to her skin, irritatingly causing her thin shirt and cotton skirt to plaster against her body. Her throat is parched, aching for a drink. Aching for anything to cool her down.
But she can't bring herself to move.
Lorelai comes home and finds her immobile position in the unmowed lawn of the backyard.
Instead of questioning it, Lorelai lies down next to her as if she understands. Almost instantly she's babbling on excitedly as if it's a game of sorts, discussing menial topics before settling onto their double date with Max and Dean that night.
Lorelai thinks she understands. But she doesn't. And Rory doesn't set her straight. Instead she murmurs the appropriate response here and there but not really listening as Lorelai's voice moves through one ear and out the other while she continues to stare mindlessly into the endless shade of pale blue.
The sun is glaring down on her entire body, on her entire being, leaving a smooth burning sensation.
It's slow, strong and heated.
She can't begin to explain it, but she thinks she might like this slow burn.
The first time she sees him since school let out they're both attending a fancy charity function thrown by the D.A.R.
Lorelai had dragged her against her will to help smooth things over with Emily & Richard after the debacle of informing them of the upcoming nuptials. The intensity of the ice cool air coming from the air conditioning is of stark contrast to the scorching heat outside, causing her skin to tighten in goosebumps, but for some reason it fails to comfort her.
She stands alone in the expansive ballroom watching the socialite party play out before her, until a head of familiar spiky blonde hair catches her eye.
He is standing, dressed smartly but looking bored as who could only be his father stands next to him droning on to his business associates about the future of DuGray Industries.
He must feel her eyes upon him, because he suddenly stops looking bored and lifts his head, intrigued and searching, before finally meeting her cobalt eyes in an intense stare.
Her mind is instantly flooded with memories. PJ Harvey, Paris, Chilton, Mary and that fateful kiss by the piano.
She doesn't understand it, but when she looks into his eyes, she feels an inexplicable pull towards him as her whole body starts to warm under his gaze, washing over her like a heated caress. And she is left shaken at the realization that she has felt this feeling once before …
Whatever is passing between them is broken as she is momentarily distracted by a server approaching her and offering her an h'orderve.
When she next looks for him, he is gone.
She is sitting on the couch, staring absently at the screen playing out one of her favorite movies. Charlie is rushing home in glee through the streets filled with snow to show his family the golden ticket he had discovered. Lorelai has always told her that magical things happen when it snows. Whether it is the beauty in the soft unique icy flakes, the chilled air, Rory has never been quite sure.
But snow is the last thing on her mind.
All the windows are open in an attempt to the let out the heat that has seeped into the house during the day and out into the night. But it seems to be having no effect as she feels familiar beads of sweat forming along the nape of her neck.
Dean is sitting on the floor in front of her, closer to the cheap portable fan that is resting on the coffee table. But instead of cooling, it futilely blows the stifling warm night air around the room. He can't be comfortable sitting hunched like that on the carpet, the heat suffocating them, while she stretches out lazily along the couch above him.
She had wanted to cancel, claiming it was too hot for a movie night, but he had insisted. Because it was the holidays and he never got to spend enough time with her normally and they had only just gotten back together. Apparently now was the time to make up for it all.
Her eyes shut involuntary, her mind fully slipping away from the movie, succumbing to the intensity of the heat and she wonders briefly if magical things can happen in the midst of a summer heatwave too.
The next time she sees him, it takes her by surprise. She and Lorelai are perusing the street stores of Hartford, shopping for the summer. She bundles out of the little boutique first, leaving Lorelai to finish up paying for the purchases, closing her eyes as she allows the sizzling heat to warm her body.
It's not long before her skin is shining with perspiration but she is left perturbed as an uneasy feeling comes over her that the slick stickiness isn't a result from the burning sun but a different burn all together.
Like someone watching her.
She opens her eyes slowly and her throat closes tightly as she takes in his cocky stance from the parallel footpath across the road.
He smirks at her like he knows something that she doesn't, his deep blue eyes penetrating her mind, her body and her very soul.
Except this time all she is left is with the onslaught of their singular kiss.
His rough lips moving against her soft ones. His strong heady scent filling up her nostrils. Pleasurable shivers running up and down her spine. His hot tongue swiping against her watermelon lip-glossed upper lip.
Lorelai's loud laughter as she exits the store splinters the building moment into shards as Rory's body is left trembling, her heart racing and her skin flushed a brilliant red. Feeling more awake, more aware of everything, more … alive than she ever thought possible.
As she allows Lorelai to tug her along to the next store she can't help but throw a quick glance back and her heart thuds painfully as she notes that he is still standing motionless, his eyes following her every moment.
And she is left wondering if it is possible to go her entire life thinking she was alive and then realize with one kiss, one small moment that she'd been walking around in a fog.
She ties her long brown hair into a knotted pony tail standing patiently as her boyfriend makes his way over to her, a broad smile covering his features.
He leans down to place a cool and dry chaste kiss against her lips. Resisting the urge to shudder at the icy touch, her eyes close in response ignoring the lack of sparks. He smiles widely before handing over the strawberry ice-cream he's purchased for her and maneuvers them to sit under the shade of the town gazebo. She shivers briefly at the slight loss of the scorching heat but just thanks him gratefully. Strawberry ice-cream is her favorite. Pink, sweet and dainty. Just like her.
Dean is the perfect boyfriend. He's sweet, kind and above all he loves her.
But as the ice-cream melts within her mouth, the sugary flavor spinning on her tongue, it doesn't explain why she has a sudden craving for rocky road or why she's suddenly thinking of him.
She is standing quietly in the middle of the courtyard, smiling and nodding politely at the friends of her grandparents as they mingled with the other members of the prestigious country club.
Both her grandparents were thoroughly surprised but warmed at her expression of wanting to spend more time with them after their long trip away to Europe as she offered to accompany them to the club at the last Friday night dinner. Lorelai had been confused but it had been easily pushed aside as her grandmother had jumped onto her about her wedding preparations.
The heat of the sun is there but it's presence muted by the numerous trees and umbrellas giving comfort to the wealthy as they stood outdoors for their luncheon. She sips at her drink, her face contorting briefly in distaste before giving the obligatory nod again at the pretentious woman speaking. She is struggling to keep her head from lolling to the side in boredom, as she wonders briefly why she came here in the first place.
She barely manages to contain the gasp of shock within in her as a large hand ever so lightly brushes against small of her back, shooting sparks of fire through her blood, fusing into her muscles and filling her with a desire for more. Instantly she swirls around, expecting to see a familiar tuft of blonde hair and icy blues looking back at her, but he is nowhere to be seen.
She knows it is him, scanning though the crowd frantically all semblance of any other pretense completely gone.
He is the only reason she is here.
And they both know it.
She sips at the fruity punch, the warm and sugary liquid traveling down her throat, trying to calm her racing heart down. She lets her hand fall, loosing clutching the glass at her side.
Her blue eyes flutter shut, the inane chatter fading into the background, her light blue summer dress swishing lightly against her calves, the heat of sun painting across her body, her heart thumping loudly in her chest, her skin tightening in the pleasure of it all.
And there it is.
She can feel his fiery gaze upon her, a burn like no other and instantly her bright blue eyes snap open, locating on his searing into her, across the courtyard, hidden in the shadows of a small alcove. For a moment that's all there is; him and her, nobody else, nothing else. And then just as quickly he breaks it, moving out purposefully, slowly, sailing through the wealthy crowd before deliberately entering two glass double doors back into the country club.
She can't seem to stop herself, as she excuses herself from the group of people she is standing with, her feet having a mind of their own slowly chasing after him, not wanting anyone to see. It feels like an eternity but she somehow finds herself standing at the edge of the doorway. Bursting through the glass doors, her breath hitches in her throat as she catches the back of his form heading purposefully down a lone hallway.
She struggles to make her way through the empty dining hall, darting through the many tables before finally arriving at the opening of the hallway, slightly out of breath. The disappointment swells within her as she finds the hallway deserted, numerous doors lining its walls. She shivers slightly, the cool air-conditioning making its presence known as her feet patted down the carpeted floor unsurely.
Where did he go?
She lets out a gasp of surprise, her heart flying wildly into her throat, as a large hand snakes its way around her wrist before pulling her whole body into an empty sitting room. Wrenching herself out of his grip, her blue eyes lock onto him, the shock swirling as his eyes glittered dangerously back.
She watches unable to speak loosely clutching her right wrist which was smoldering with shocks of pleasure as his back hit against the cream door, his hand shifting behind his back, sliding the lock in place.
Her eyes widen at the implication and she can't stop herself from whispering warningly, "Tristan…"
His expression is indiscernible as he panther crawls forward, like a hunter stalking his prey, causing her previously frozen feet to start inching backwards. Seeing this he stops suddenly, causing her to do the same. "What do you feel, Rory?" His blue eyes darken further. "Why did you come here?"
She swallows hard against the sudden lump that has formed in her throat, as his voice, soft as silk encompasses her name, not Mary, not a mocking nickname, but her name, instantly causing her body to slip further into desire, a dull ache developing between her legs. "I- I don't know," she manages to choke out.
And she doesn't. This isn't rational. She doesn't know why she is here. There isn't a reason to explain why the innocent girl Rory Gilmore that everyone knows and loves would be here. She doesn't know what she is feeling. She doesn't know why she is here.
But staring at the blonde boy before her, the heat slowly seeping into the room, overtaking the chilled air, she does know.
"Rory." He breathes out huskily as his gaze hungrily devours her, resuming his slow and deliberate panther crawl towards her.
She slowly backs herself into a wall. She's stuck. There's nowhere else for her to turn as he edges forward. He stops in front of her directly so that all that separates her from him is an inch of thick hot tension filled air.
"Tristan," she whispers breathlessly.
His dark azure eyes bore down into hers and she feels that she might drown in its lust filled depths. She wonders briefly, if her eyes are as stormy as his. Can he see it? Can he feel how much she wants this? How much she needs it?
His fingers eventually move and slightly grasp her left hand. She quivers briefly at his touch and he can't help but smirk in response.
He is but fire and she burns at his touch.
A fire that couldn't be put out.
A fire that she was starting to understand.
His fingers begin to draw tiny patterns into her palm and her eyes flutter closed at the arousing sensation. He bends down low and whispers his hot breath into her ear.
"Tell me Rory, what do you need?"
She struggles to open her eyes and register his question as she starts to lose herself in her hazy need. 'Oh God Tristan. Just you. Only you. I need you.' His fingers pull away and her eyes snap open instantly at the loss of sensation. She looks at him in confusion as he stares at her expectantly and she suddenly realizes that she hasn't actually answered him out loud.
She smiles softly and manages to murmur quietly, "You. Just you Tristan."
Slowly his fingers begin to climb up her arm. Painfully slow, as she fixes her eyes upon the goosebumps rising under his tender caress, watching as fine hairs stand on end as her body he was navigating against its will begins to shiver into his igniting caress. He reaches her elbow, and strokes his thumb across the inside, holding her gently in the palm of his hand to steady her. Her chest is rising and falling at an alarming rate – but she doesn't think she is breathing.
It feels as if there are sparks of electricity between her skin and his fingertips. He lowers himself closer towards her, her lips experiencing the same intense phenomenon. One of his hands slides up her smooth leg leaving the sensation of small sparks jumping across her skin. He grasps her smooth upper thigh, lifting her leg up and she allows it to swing around his waist, enveloping him whole, trapping the kindling fire between their bodies.
His other hand suddenly becomes stronger, his caress infinitely clearer – the whispers of his fingers long gone. He grips her neck, before pushing himself flush against her. She lets a surprised gasp escape right before his mouth catches hers. His lips are forceful plundering her own quickly, his hand moving to tangle into her soft brown locks. She breathes raggedly into his mouth, his tongue swiping against her teeth until she fully relaxes into him. She falls limp into his arms, opening her mouth, letting him inside, torturing with a blazing heat she knows she shouldn't want but can't resist.
His lips cover so much of her body, yet she aches for him to be closer. Her arms slide around him to play with the fine hairs of his neck and he grunts against her lips, increasing the pressure of his urgent tongue as he sucks her tongue greedily into his mouth.
She hadn't expected it to be like this. It wasn't meant to be like this. Dean had never invoked this kind of passion within her. And as her whole body trembles within Tristan's embrace. She doesn't think he ever would.
He pushes his body further into her own, causing her to wrap her other leg around his waist, desperately holding onto his shoulders as she pants longingly into his mouth. She lets out a loud moan, feeling the force of his erection against her rapidly increasing heat. His lips search hers out as if he doesn't know where to begin, laying hot wet kisses across her chin, her cheeks, her lips and occasionally dropping one to her neck, feeling her pulse beat rapidly against his swiping tongue as it starts to inhumanly palpitate under the weight of those trembling fingers.
He finally pulls away, leaving them both gasping, sucking in large gulpfuls of oxygen, attempting to control the burning between them. But as his darkened lust filled blue eyes lock onto hers, she knows it is lost.
In that moment she knows, what has started out as latent heat between them has quickly flourished into a raging inferno. A raging inferno that can never be quenched. Never be extinguished.
Her eyes never leaving his, she leans back allowing him free use of her body. He grips her hips tightly in response, sensing the underlying meaning.
"I want all of you …." He whispers longingly, leaning his forehead against her own slightly perspiring one. She manages to shake her head in disbelief, unable to form a coherent sentence as she pants heavily against his mouth. His hands are slowly sliding under the trails of her flimsy summer dress, caressing her porcelain skin. She moves her hips unconsciously against him, anxious for him to devour her whole in his ravenous mouth. She deliberately licks her lips in anticipation, causing him to groan at the sight, flicking his tongue across her mouth quickly, sucking on her bottom lip until she arches completely against him, feeling his rough hands quickly slide up her sides to the zipper at the top of her dress before pausing.
She opens her eyes. He is waiting for her to say something. What could she say? She wanted him to rip the panties away from her body, be inside her of now … let the heat overtake them … surround them … envelope them … but he hovered. He just hovered.
"Take me." She manages to murmur disjointedly, pulling his scorching mouth back down to hers again, causing her blood to boil at the sensation. He leans against her, pushing her back into the wall and she shifts her body, until she can feel him probing into her, just where she wants him.
She gasps and shudders as his nimble fingers, trace down her back, pulling the zipper of her dress down, revealing her heaving chest to his hungry eyes, the hot air, and all the spirits that were blushing in their unrest. "God, Tristan, take me." She mumbles incoherently as his fingers stroke her skin.
His body moves teasingly against her, almost like a preview of what he would do once clothing formed no barrier between heated flesh as the top half of her dress fell unceremoniously in a bunch at her hips. He searches out the clasp of her bra with strong unrelenting fingers, and as she feels it snap he whispers gruffly into her ear, flicking his tongue across the fold of skin, "I want you to burn for me."
And with that he ducked his head down to the valley of her breasts, his scalding mouth and hands latching onto the searing skin of the soft mounds, causing her to moan in desperation, before gasping disjointedly, "Yes. I burn. So much, Tristan. I burn."
Her breathing hitches as his heated lips circle the aureole with his tongue, and proceeds to blow cool streams of air across her soft skin. Her fingers thread through his blonde locks frantic to keep him locked in place. To never let him go. He closes gentle teeth around her left nipple, suckling patiently until she cries out in fiery pleasure.
"Taste so good, feel so good," he mumbles against her skin as he switches to her right breast and works there causing her blunt fingernails to dig in hard into the tanned skin of his shoulders. Anxious to feel his heated skin upon hers, her fingers tug at the base of his neck until he draws up his head, recapturing her lips in a languid sinful kiss.
Her trembling hands move frantically, undoing each button of his crisp shirt, the material eventually falling free from his shoulders as she sighs blissfully at the feel of his hard chest underneath the searing skin of her palms.
He grins cockily against her lips, forcing their bodies impossibly closer together, the air between them rising to scorching as her bare breasts met the skin of his defined chest. Her eyes roll back in pleasure as her over-sensitised nipples rub enticingly against his heated flesh, resulting in a loss of bodily control as she feverishly slams her hips into his own, rubbing temptingly against his hard dick.
He groans low and deep into her mouth, and she feels a wild thrill race up her spine at the knowledge of the power she holds over him.
He retaliates by grinding himself against her, pressing against the juncture of her thighs where she pulsed with frantic desire. She breaks away from the kiss, gasping out a moan and arches into him. "Oh, my God."
His expression is fierce with satisfaction. "You like that, don't you?" he says gruffly, pulling back and repeating the sensual bump and grind.
She moans her head lolling back and forth as he bent to tease the lobe of her ear with his tongue. "Tristan…"
His hands shift again; his rough palms quickly gliding up the smooth skin of her milky thighs, until they reach the edge of her cotton panties. His head pulls back slightly and her dazed eyes slide in and out of focus before latching onto the searing lust filled black pupils that are directed right at her. Her entire body stills as she watches with bated breath, his eyes never leaving hers, his face twisting into a smug grin as his nimble fingers below slide past her panties, and teasingly run along her dripping heat.
The soaring warmth rushes from deep between her legs, right up her spine before spreading and infusing her body whole. Her face twists into a loud cry as he gives into her unspoken need, and pushes a long finger deep inside. The heat is intoxicating now and burning bright between them as he curls another finger to join his other in her depths, her hips unconsciously thrusting in response.
"That's right," he coaxes lovingly as her hips move in time with his fingers inside of her, his tempo ever so achingly increasing. "Show me what you like, Rory."
Her lashes flutter closed, and she loses herself in the feelings he is rousing in her. Soft moaning and ragged breathing barely permeate her senses, seeming dim and far away within her hazy mind. She can feel herself reaching for something, on the edge of some kind of wonder she's never experienced before.
When she finally bursts, it is on a current of electric shock, every inch of her strung tight like a bow. The pleasure of it is pure and explosive, a turbulence of passion that shakes her as much as it satisfies.
She can hear him whispering her name, and she realizes she is crushing him to her, nails digging into the skin of his broad shoulders. She blinks, looking up at him, meeting his raw, expectant expression.
And she knows.
He is hungry for her just as she is for him.
And with all the confidence within her, she lifts one of her small hands and reaches down between their entwined bodies to cup him fully through his slacks. He hisses as if almost in pain and immediately relaxes his hold on her, allowing her to unwind her legs that are wrapped around his waist and slide gently to the ground so that they are standing before one another.
They both breathe heavily, gasping in the hot air, the flames wrapping around them tightly, and he watches silently as she kicks off her heels while her dainty fingers deftly starts undoing the button and slides down the zipper of his slacks.
Her clammy palms run along the edge of his boxers before tugging them slightly and they fall abruptly to the floor. Her chest heaves with each breath as she takes in the sight before her. He is large and throbbing, swollen nodules and bumps running along his length. The tip is glistening with pre-cum and she feels herself getting wetter at thought that she is responsible for this.
It is her turn to watch silently as he shucks of his shoes and socks, before grabbing a small blue packet from his trousers, ripping it open and moving it to cover his hard cock. But before he can do so, she grabs at his hands, stilling his movement. He looks at her apprehensively, as if she may call this off at any second and he is unsure if he can handle it. "Let me," she sighs imploringly.
He clenches his teeth shut, trying desperately to ignore the onslaught of emotion, lust and pleasure as her trembling fingers slide across his swollen erection, before his own quaking hands cover her own, helping her cover the condom over him. She pulls away, sliding her dress down so that it pools at her feet, her panties sliding along with it.
They both stare at each other and it is only then that she registers what a sight this must be. They're perspiring, the mutual lust and desire in the air palpable as he stands naked in all his glory before her, while she stands chest heaving, her back against the wall, naked, desperate for him to take her. Be with her. But he just stares at her as if he still can't believe this is happening.
"Tristan, please." Her voice breaks, desperate for him to just move as her bare foot slides up his thigh, moving to encircle his waist.
He snaps out of his reverie and quickly rushes at her, placing sloppy hot kisses all over her face, large hands grabbing her smooth buttocks, hoisting her high into the air before slamming her against the wall, holding her with his own body. She moans, drowning in the lust, reveling in the feel of their naked bodies pressing against one another. "Oh, God Tristan, closer!"
He pushes further and they're so close, impossibly close together, his throbbing erection pressing hard against her thigh and it is only then it registers that this is it. No fanfare, no romantic setting, no candles, no loving words.
Just her, Tristan and the heat.
And she can't ever imagine wanting anything else.
Her right hand glides against his backside, sliding to his front to grasp his throbbing erection and pull him to her opening. They both let out appreciative husky groans as his cock, slips and slides against her wet velvet heat.
"Rory …," he mumbles softly and she knows he is asking her if she's sure. That this doesn't have to happen.
Except that it does.
She wants it to.
She needs it to.
She gasps as she feels the tip slightly protruding her lower lips, and manages to stutter out between each breath, "I need you, Tristan."
She thrusts slightly causing his swollen head to slip into her tight hot cunt and his eyes roll back into his head. "Rory," he says longingly, and she's not sure she'll ever be able to think her name again without hearing it in his voice, the breathless desperate way he says it. And from where she is, it feels just fine.
He slides in further, and it feels so good, her body set aflame with lust and passion. Incoherent ramblings spill from her lips, begging him, wanting him, needing him, just anything for him to just take her. He stills when he reaches her barrier and pulls back slightly but she clutches at him, her fingers splaying over his back. "Tristan," the violent need ever present in her husky voice.
He pushes deep within her, breaking past the barrier and she shudders uncontrollably, the pain suddenly overwhelming her. Her mouth falls into a silent cry, her eyes shuttering closed, unable to stand the onslaught of sensation. But he is having none of it as one of his hands moves to lift up her chin so that his face is looking directly upon hers, demanding hoarsely. "Open your eyes, Rory … Tell me … what do you feel now?"
She struggles to lift open her eyes, but she can feel his intense stare upon urging her to do so as he held himself perfectly still. Her eyes finally open after a minute and she finds herself unable to stop the assault of emotions swirling through her, taking in the moment to fully process everything. The feel of him inside her, so deep and strong, the hard lines of his hips between her thighs, the toned muscles of his stomach pressed against hers. He feels amazing. Strange and uncomfortable and so full inside of her. And the more she focuses on it, the more the uncomfortable parts fade away, leaving her only with the pleasurable.
Her eyes finally lock onto his heavy lidded ones, breathing heavily and she gives him a shaky smile, "I can't feel…anything but you…" she admits, her voice breathless as he rocks into her deeper. "Tristan…oh, my God…" His eyes flash with an indiscernible emotion as he leans to down to capture her lips with his own.
And he kisses her so deeply that nothing else matters.
She tilts her hips downwards to meet his in a small shallow thrust and he pulls away from her mouth to let out a large groan as he slides deeper into her clutching sheath. "Rorrryyyy" his husky voice slurring over her name.
She is amazed at how quickly the heat has spilled into a blazing firestorm as he starts slowly thrusting into her scalding body, her brain frying with the sensations and she knows somehow it won't be long. Her hands tangle in the damp mess of his blonde locks, suddenly desperate to have something to hold onto as the world seems to tilt on its axis and plunges them into the fiery depths of hell below.
She feels a deep pounding reverberating throughout her body and she is overwhelmed at the realization that it is the beat of his heart, his breath in her mouth, as if he were living off of her body as his lips slid over hers. She holds onto him tightly, as they kiss desperately, the heat igniting every sensory nerve in their bodies, sparks flying from each other's touch before again separating gasping for breath.
Her eyes never leave his, as his sweaty body slides against hers, his hips rocking into hers in a smooth steady rhythm. She moves with him instinctively, matching his tempo, pushing him harder, faster, closer. He is just so … big. And not just inside her, but all of him. He is overwhelming her with the fire that they have created.
His pupils dilate further until his eyes are almost fully consumed by black glittering lust and she knows that her eyes can only reflect the same. Unexpectedly he stops in his rhythm and she lets out a small whimper, craving for him to continue. He lifts one of his hands to brush aside a piece of her loose matted brown hair and tucks it behind her ear. He leans forward, their damp foreheads against one another's, the tips of their noses barely touching and whispers faintly against her lips, "You belong to me now."
The intensity and heat is stifling and she grabs his mouth in a passionate kiss, their tongues dueling for power, but they both know who the person in control really is. Again they're pulling apart, panting for breath before she swipes her tongue playfully against his ear in response, mumbling hotly, "Always."
And with that she servers his last string of control as he starts moving his body faster and harder into her body than before, groaning feverishly into her mouth and she revels in the intoxication of it all. Her hips roll down to meet his, the burning feeling soaring through her blood, that feeling only he can manage to send through her. Her hands slide against the slick sweat of his broad back, rushing up to clutch his damp hair against his scalp as he held her backside firm in his arms, moving in a jocular, messy rhythm that she knew would never be surpassed than any slow loving crap that she could have with Dean. Surpass anything that she could have with anyone.
She is caught off guard when one of his hands, move between their withering bodies, his thumb pressing hard against her engorged clit, mangling and twisting it between his fingers. She lets out a soft scream, encompassing his name deliriously, her hips moving uncontrollably as he endeavors to cover her mouth, but her scream overtakes every attempt to subdue the wave that shatters her.
She clamps down hard on him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as she feels him jerk every nerve in her body to the edge before her body combusted, the heat spilling as a current swept through her and her whole body was shuddering and withering with the intensity of it all.
He tenses in response as her walls clench and pulsate around him, his cock twitching frenetically within her before coming with a soft groan against her shaking lips. "Rory," the only word leaving his lips, his voice soft and rough all at once, ragged with pleasure. He nestles his face into the sweaty valley of her shoulder as his hips continued to rut uncontrollably into her own, the movement sending spiraling waves of pleasure, adding further to her overwhelming gratification. Her whole body shakes and she can feel the sweat trickling down her nose from her matted hair, his tongue darting out to taste her sweat and absorb the heat into his body.
She lets her head fall against his own shoulder, sucking in large gulpfuls of air, letting a small mewl of displeasure as he slips out of her, instantly feeling the loss, as he drops the used condom to the floor. She clutches him to her tightly, her ankles locking around his torso, not ready to let him go. She wants him to remain inside her always. Write it in the sky for the whole world to see. His grip on her backside tightens and she knows he understands.
"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," she whispers incoherently breathless against his shoulder, finally finding her voice, as he sinks their entwined bodies to a nearby sofa, never separating for an instant. He drapes her limp body upon the soft cushions, covering her with his own before stroking his hands up the outside of her thighs absently, carefully surveying her reaction.
Her bright blue eyes slowly begin to refocus, amazed that how deep the heat still burned, still ached and lock onto the equally glazed ones searing into her. "Did you mean it?" he utters softly, his voice low and gravely. He won't let her runaway this time.
Instantly she knows what he means. Everything would change. Dean would have to go. Lane would flip out. Lorelai would most likely lock her up for the rest of her life. His parents probably wouldn't approve. Paris would never speak to her again. There were so many things going against this.
But she would have him.
And he would have her.
And she was so tired of pretending. So tired.
Purposefully, she raises her head, her gaze never leaving his and engages him in a hot passionate kiss, her tongue rolling languidly against his own, tasting him slow and with a soft sweet pressure, before pulling away gasping for breath to repeat her earlier sentiments.
As they lay together, their bodies intertwined, not knowing where they began and ended, he nuzzles her neck gently and she automatically cocks her head to the side to allow him easier access.
As his hot lips softly caress her smooth skin, her eyes flutter shut, a small smile graces her face and all she can think is how much she loves this slow burn.
End Author's Note: Whew … well I hope y'all found that as hot as I did writing it … But let me know your thoughts in a nice lovely review … almost as nice than a yummy sweaty naked Tristan DuGray … •momentarily taken by the sight• … actually no not really --Amira