From the Inside

Things to Include:
§ Tristan and Rory meet at a Life and Death Brigade function (how he’s involved in it is your choice!)
§ Must have a reference to The Polar Bear Club (Old men go swimming in freezing water)
§ Paris gives Rory some advice
§ Lorelai must be in it in some form or fashion

Things NOT to Include:
§ Any ex boyfriends/girlfriends of Rory or Tristan
§ Logan is allowed, but he must have a PLATONIC relationship with Rory
§ Angst (I like angst, but it just doesn’t work for this one)

Rating: NC-17

AN: Thank you to my lovely beta for helping me polish this! And for reading it all so many times! And to the requestor who was my ultimate inspiration, without whom this would just be blank space. Hope you enjoy. . . .


Title: From the Inside

“Can I see your dictionary?” she asked, causing him to stare at her in confusion.


“Why?”


“You know, just to check to see if my picture is next to the word gullible in your copy. Because that is the only way I can rationalize your thinking I’d ever believe you again,” she informed him with an elongated huff and a defiant crossing of her arms. “Let alone go anywhere undisclosed with you.”


Not one to give in or leave without achieving his goal, he persisted. She would give in to him; it was just a matter of time. And they both knew it.


“It’s not going to be like last time. And don’t act all put out. You had fun, admit it.”


“Yes, being thrown into the icy depths of the North Atlantic to catch my death of cold was just one more thing I can check off my ‘must-do-before-I-die’ list. No, wait, that was on my ‘things-most-likely-to-make-me-die-sooner’ list. My mistake.”


“See, Gilmore, there’s your problem. Too many lists. You’re too structured. You don’t know how to let yourself have fun.”


She shot him a lethal look, making it clear he’d just been placed on the top of another one of her lists. Her hit list, as it were.


“Besides, it’s not like we weren’t perfect gentleman, offering to warm you up afterward.”


Another glare. She had talent with the flesh-burning stares. More huffing emitted from betwixt her lips. He smiled wider. These were signs that she hated herself for finding him charming and was about to give in.


“Speaking of trying to get girls into bed with you, shouldn’t you be harassing some girl who might actually want to go along?”


“Can’t,” he shook his head. “I need you,” he said in all seriousness.


“Are you altered in some way? Did someone kick you in the head on the way over here?”


“I mean, I specifically need another female for the party, and the group has already accepted you. This is official Life and Death Brigade business, we can’t have just anyone there.”


“You need a female? For what, some sort of ritual sacrifice? Well, here’s a newsflash for you, Logan, I’m not a virgin. Try next door.”


Now his smile broke even wider over his face. “Damn.”


“What?” she demanded.


“I owe Finn fifty bucks.”


“I can’t—get out!” she pushed him to the main door to her dorm suite.


“Okay, okay, okay! Stop pushing and I’ll give you a little more detail,” he spoke carefully, something that wasn’t lost on her. He never gave her complete details about these outings that he talked her into attending, she was sure just to drive her nuts, but he always swore the secret society forbade it.


Doing her part, with a flourish of impatience—hands on hips and a perfectly contoured eyebrow raised—she signaled that it was his turn.


“Every year the Yale chapter meets up with the Princeton chapter, I can’t tell you where, to continue a tradition of good will and brotherhood (he ignored her exasperated groan at the blatant male chauvinism of the term) and we’re uneven in our numbers this year. We pair off in boy-girl sets, one of each pair from the different schools.”


“Why?”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you never to monkey with tradition?”


Talking with Logan Huntzberger, she’d found over the last few months, was something akin to chatting with a brick wall. On second thought, it was more like beating your head against said wall. Albeit a wall that had abducted her from her bed at 3:30 a.m. on New Year’s Eve to join the LDB on their annual Polar Bear Club dip—including the barbaric yawp that Finn insisted they add as they ran as if on fire toward the water, to counteract the emasculating effects of the cold.


Rory had also learned that the boys of the LDB were huge fans of any event that made it appropriate for them to be naked in conjunction. Especially Finn.


Lorelai, whose home from which Rory’d been abducted on the night in question, had gone on about the incident for days—why hadn’t they blindfolded her as well and brought her along? She was a cool, youthful mom, after all, and stories of Finn had highly intrigued her. Couldn’t Rory have in the very least brought a camera along to document the naked college boy fun? And shouldn’t these boys really consider doing a calendar spread of some sort, since they seemed to be naked the majority of the time anyhow? Rory hadn’t passed on the suggestion, too afraid it would be in production before she finished her recanting of the joke. The naked strutting didn’t need to be encouraged.


“Come on, Ace. I’ve got the perfect guy in mind for you,” he nudged her shoulder.


“Okay, see, my feeling like you’re setting me up on a blind date isn’t helping your begging work.”


“What would help my begging work?”


“Phrases like ‘perfect gentleman’ and ‘shy, but smart’ come to mind.”


“Hmm,” he stroked his chin with one finger, deep in thought.


“What?”


“Just searching my memory banks to see if I could even edit someone’s speech to make that true of this guy.”


“Logan, forget it.” She waved her hand dismissively.


“Do you seriously believe I’d hand you over to some creep? I’ve known the guy forever—our fathers were roommates at Yale.”


“But then, shouldn’t he be here at Yale, not at Princeton?” her brow furrowed together in confusion.


Logan smirked. “That is a long story. A good story, but long.”


Rory sighed, but let her hands fall from her hips. He was one sweet-talking measure away from a deal.


“Come on, Ace. It’s our Spring Fling. Sounds like fun, right?”


“Sounds like I’m going to get flung,” she added bitterly.


“Careful, that makes it sound like you’re agreeing to a blind date that I’ve set up for you,” he leaned into her personal bubble of space, knowing he could taunt her a little now. He had her, and they both knew it.


“I’m holding you personally responsible for my well-being at this party.”


He put a jubilant arm around her shoulders. “Unnecessary, but if it makes you feel better. Trust me, you’ll be thanking me for years,” he assured her before taking his leave. She sighed, wondering just exactly what she’d gotten herself into this time.


ooxxXxxoo


“What are you doing?”


Rory looked up to her open doorway from her stance in front of her open and half-filled suitcase. She rolled her eyes at her suitemate, wishing she’d shut her door after she came back in after lunch. “It’s called packing, Paris. It’s how I get my belongings to go with me when I travel.”


“You aren’t going with that idiot and his band of merry nit-wits.”


“First of all, you barely know Logan. You know what that paranoid, antacid-popping boyfriend of yours has told you about Logan. And you don’t know his friends at all.”


“I know that he has plans for you. I grew up around guys like this, Rory, you didn’t.”


“You’re cracked, Paris. Logan needed an extra girl that wouldn’t rat out the group’s plans.”


“You’re going as arm candy, Gilmore.”


“I’m not even going to be with Logan. He’s setting me up with someone from Princeton,” she explained, wishing as soon as the words reached Paris’ ears that she’d kept her big trap shut.


“Princeton?”


“It’s part of their tradition.”


“And you say he’s setting you up with someone?”


“It doesn’t matter. It’s just a big party, it doesn’t matter what I do once I’m there. I’ll probably be on duty to make sure Finn doesn’t do anything too stupid while he’s drunk. They seem to take turns at it; evidently it’s a big job.”


Paris leaned into the doorframe and remained quiet for a moment while Rory went back to staring at her suitcase.


“What’s wrong? I thought you were packing. Are you seriously only going to take underwear and books?” she asked, peering into the contents of what Rory’d selected thus far.


“No, I just don’t know where we’re going or how long we’re staying. Makes packing difficult.”


“Well, if you want my advice, I’d say bring something that covers as much surface skin area as possible. These guys don’t need any invitations.”


“God, Paris. I’m not going to invite anyone to do anything on this trip. We’re all just friends.”


“And these friends are setting you up on a blind date. And this person is probably used to girls from the same circles, all of whom are guaranteed to put out. What a disappointment you’ll be,” Paris sighed as she crossed her arms over her own well-covered chest.


“Okay, I don’t need your advice on packing. I’ll just take a little of everything.”


“Whatever. I’m off to get actual work done,” Paris shrugged and took her leave of her suitemate, as Rory continued to throw everything from a bikini to a heavy wool sweater into her suitcase, unsure if their destination would be the still chilly spring air of the Northeast or the warm beaches of Florida. When dealing with people whose fathers owned their own jets and numerous yachts, you could never know for sure.


ooxxXxxoo


“Geesh, Ace, did you leave anything in your room?” Logan asked as he hefted her bag into the back of the SUV.


“If you want me to pack lighter, I’d suggest you letting me in on our general whereabouts. There are climate concerns in the spring, depending on what regional area we’ll be ending up in.”


Logan smirked. “Our general rule is the lighter the better.”


Rory rolled her eyes and got into the back seat as always. “Just wake me up when we get there, will you?”


“As you wish.”


She curled up against the window on the passenger side, and attempted to drift off to sleep. She’d been up all night getting a paper done that she assumed she wouldn’t have time to finish during this Spring Fling event. That and the blindfold they make her wear while she’s awake does nothing for her hair afterward. She listened for a moment as the boys started in on general shop talk: what they’d need to do upon arrival, the girls they anticipated meeting up with; all without mentioning their actual whereabouts or what exactly was going on. She figured they had lots of practice at this, never wanting to be able to get ‘caught’. She was almost completely asleep when she heard the topic change to something that piqued her interest.


“So, mate, what exactly is your reward going to be for executing this little rendezvous?” Finn asked from the driver’s seat.


Logan chuckled. “My reward? What makes you think I’m getting anything out of this?”


“Dude, you’ve gone through all this leg work to hand a beautiful, available, smart woman like that over to someone else? Who would do that without getting something out of it?” Colin reasoned.


“Did you really just say ‘Dude’?” Logan asked with distaste.


“I mean, hell, I want to ravish her six ways from Sunday,” Finn said. “And I have excellent taste in women. Very high standards—I know of what I speak. She’s hot. Are you saying you’ve never wanted to fuck her yourself?”


“Maybe he tried and she wouldn’t have him, so he caved and decided to save face by claiming to be helping a friend out,” Colin proffered.


“Very funny. And it’s not that I wouldn’t want to fuck her,” Logan began, “But it’s not like that. He’s one of my oldest friends, and he has first claims. You don’t mess with shit like that.”


“So, they dated? Is this going to be some sort of a Montel, reunited with a lost love type thing?” Finn asked.


“You watch Montel?” Colin asked.


“My television viewing habits aren’t up for debate here, his prowess is,” Finn reminded.


“There is nothing wrong with my sexual prowess,” Logan protested. “And no, they didn’t date.”


“Then I don’t get it. If they didn’t date, what’s the deal?”


“Think about it, you’ve met him. How many women have you ever seen turn him down?”


“So he gets a lot of girls. Why’s he so stuck on this one?”


Logan smiled. “She wouldn’t have him.”


“Maybe she’s had some sort of vaccination against charming men. After all, she’s resisted my charms thus far as well. I always wondered how she managed to do it,” Finn mused.


“Yes, that must be it,” Logan snickered.


“So, what was the deal?” Colin asked.


“Hey, all I know is to set it up. I’m setting it up.”


“I’d still get something out of it. He have a cute sister or anything?” Finn asked.


“Shut the hell up, would you?”


Rory remained curled up against the window, in disbelief. They weren’t talking about her, were they? Who else was he setting up? Perhaps quite a few people. He did remind her of a ringleader sort of guy. Always in the know. Always with something in the works. She couldn’t figure out who would go to such lengths to secretly hook up with her like this. No one she knew had gone to Princeton, not even random acquaintances from Chilton, save for Paris’ ex-boyfriend, Jamie. She turned her shoulder in more toward the window, and tried to block out the sound of their voices as the moved on to some other topic, deciding that they couldn’t be talking about her. It was impossible.


ooxxXxxoo


“Ace, wake up.”


She pried one eye open to find Logan leaned over her in what felt like quite an intimate way. His chest was pressed into her arm, his lips right at her ear. “You ready?”


“Logan?” she whispered, her mouth too dry to speak at a normal decibel.


“In the flesh, Sleeping Beauty. But this carriage is about to turn back into a pumpkin, so if you’re ready to go meet your Prince Charming, you best look a little more lively.”


His quick words and extreme proximity swirled around her as she fluttered her eyes open and shut, not quite into the moment yet.


“Hmm?” she murmured, not sure if he was about to kiss her or shake her awake.


“Geez, if I would have known you were such a heavy sleeper, I wouldn’t have let you fall asleep in the first place. You’re worse than Finn,” he said, slipping her arm around his shoulders and pulling her upright along with him. Before she knew it, he was sliding her out of the car and they were standing in a huge parking lot, filled with cars but lacking in people. She blinked again, trying to adjust her pupils to the still above the horizon sun that was streaming into her line of view.


“Where are we?”


“You must still be sleepy. You know better than to ask me such questions when you’re awake.”


“Logan,” she protested, as he took her by the arm and began to lead her off in yet another direction. “My stuff,” she reminded him.


“I’m not your bellboy anymore, Ace. That is being taken care of by qualified professionals.”


“So is that a yes or a no on my being able to change my underwear in the morning?”


“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he ignored her question, not slowing his pace despite her lethargic desires.


Someone for her to meet. Or reacquaint herself with? She let her thoughts flash back to what she’d overheard in the car—still unconvinced that they had been talking about her. Either way, she supposed she was about to find out. They were walking toward a luxury hotel, a grand entrance. Though they were definitely out of any major city limits. This hotel looked more like a mountain getaway. She figured this helped in keeping their anonymity in place, being in the middle of nowhere.


Logan stopped short once they’d reached the main lobby of the building, a high-ceilinged room with wood everywhere, including rustic looking beams running overhead. The furniture around them was very plush, but had a mountain lodge feel. She supposed this was what the rich and famous considered ‘roughing it’. She also wondered what they were doing in a resort like this during the spring—it was too late in the year to go skiing and too early for the summer activities like water-skiing and boating on the lake that was no doubt near by. Of course, asking Logan would get her nowhere, so she remained quiet as he pulled her off to the side and in close to him.


“Look, before I take you to your room, I wanted to get a couple of things square with us.”


She frowned, unsure of what he was alluding to. He was sounding quite cryptic, but she remained silent, only nodding for him to continue.


“We’re friends, right? You trust me?”


“Yeah,” she said warily, as if she might want to recant that particular decision in a moment.


“Look, over the course of this weekend, if anything gets out of hand, you should,” he began, but she cut him off in triumph.


“Hah, so we’ll be here just for a weekend?” she probed, looking for the wrong information.


“Yes, just the weekend. But if at anytime during this weekend you get yourself into—,” he got cut off by Finn, standing on the other end of the large lobby, holding up several sets of keys. “I’ve got everything, come on. Everyone’s waiting.”


“Damn. Let’s go,” he nodded to Rory, who grabbed his arm to hold him back.


“No, finish. If I get myself into what?”


“Nothing. It’s not important. Come on, time for introductions,” he said, pulling her along after him yet again.


ooxxXxxoo


“Logan, tell me right now what you were going to say,” she whispered harshly as they got to the doorway that Finn had disappeared into just moments before.


“Ah, the stragglers. It’s about damn time,” Colin said, holding out champagne glasses to the pair, so they could match the rest of the gathered crowd in the main ballroom. Everyone was still in street clothes, not ball gowns as Rory had grown accustomed to. She took her goblet, scanning the crowd for any familiar faces.


‘You’re just being paranoid, Gilmore, get a grip,’ she thought to herself.


“Tell me you were doing something naughty,” Finn said too loudly as Colin began to welcome everyone to the whichever-th annual gathering, or whatever his usual spiel was. Rory had heard it a number of times, but was usually caught between others’ hushed conversations. It didn’t matter to her how many times this event had occurred in the past, right now she cared more that Finn and everyone else knew that she hadn’t allowed Logan to defile her in the back of an SUV in broad daylight.


“They better not have,” came a voice behind her, causing her to turn as Logan smiled and nodded at the form moving up behind her.


Her mouth dropped from shock and surprise, as the man interlocked arms with her, moving to give her a drink of champagne from his glass as was tradition to start off an event of the LDB. She moved out of recognition of the motions, holding the lip of her glass to his mouth as well, allowing him to catch some of the bubbly liquid through his parted lips.


“Thanks, Mary.”


“Tristan?”


“I’m touched that you remember,” he smirked, getting his comment in before the loud gong was sounded. She never quite got used to that particular sound as it reverberated over the room. Tristan slipped an arm around her waist as the whooping and cat calls were dispensed around the room; people moving around like excited atoms over heat around them. Feeling too overwhelmed by the rush of the taste of alcohol, the noise, and the man who was leading her around the room, she allowed him to move her wherever he wished. By the time they got out into the hall, he stopped, his eyes gleaming as he looked down into hers.


“Miss me, Mary?”


“Hardly. What are you even doing here?”


“It wouldn’t be a party without me,” he informed her.


“I’ve never seen you at one of these before,” she managed, moving back out of the grasp he’d maintained around her waist.


“You’ve only been to Yale LDB events. Not exactly my neck of the woods,” he informed her.


“Well, as fascinating as this little reunion has been, if you’ll excuse me I have to go find Logan.”


“Hang on there, Mare,” he jogged to catch up with her, as she’d turned on her heel and was heading back toward the ballroom doors. “Stop, will you?”


“I have to meet Logan to go find my date, as I’m sure you need to do as well,” she said briskly.


“I’m looking right at her.”


Rory finally did stop at his words. She turned and looked at him, her eyes wide.


“Aren’t you going to say anything? As I recall, you always did have an opinion about everything.”


“No. No, no, no.”


“Yes,” he smirked, leaning in close as he corrected her.


“No! I’m not going to be your date for the weekend. Out of the question,” she said, stepping back and inadvertently bumping into Logan, who was emerging with a blonde girl on his arm.


“Ah, good, you two all set then?” Logan smiled at her, then at Tristan, who was moving up against Rory and sliding an arm protectively around her shoulders.


She shirked off his touch, despite the tingling shockwaves it sent down her arms. “Logan, we need to talk. Now.”


“I’m sure Tristan here can fill you in on anything you need to know from here on out, right man?”


“You bet. Anything you want. I’m all yours, Mare.”


“Stop calling me that,” she hissed.


“Aw, still touchy about the implications?” he cooed, teasing her as he moved closer to her again. Logan chuckled to himself, moving his date off down the hallway to stake out their room. “Or do you actually prefer Ace?”


She looked to Tristan with more surprise. “How did you—,” she began, her mouth hanging open as her voice trailed off.


“Relax. Now, first things first. Shall we check out our room? I think we only have like an hour before we have to meet back up here. Not that it takes you long to get presentable, what with your natural radiating beauty.”


“I’m sorry, did you say our room, or was that my having a stroke?”


He tsked. “Guess it’s easy to radiate when you’re permanently hot under the collar. Tell me, is it just me that evokes this fire in you?”


“Answer me.”


“We are sharing a room this weekend. I’m your date; I’m responsible for your safety and making sure you get back to civilization, despite the circumstances.”


“And what does that mean?”


“Come on, I think our room’s this way,” he said, turning to head down the hallway, leaving her standing stock still, looking after him.


“This is not happening,” she said softly to herself.


“Move it, Gilmore,” he called, turning to walk backward and motion to her to come follow him. “I won’t bite, I promise,” he added. She rolled her eyes and moved to follow him. He slowed his pace until she caught up with him, and then he added. “Unless that’s how you like it.”


“I’m going to kill Logan,” she muttered, walking beside Tristan as they went in search of their room for the weekend.


ooxxXxxoo


Sitting down on one of the beds, he watched her as she moved to unpack her belongings into the dresser drawers. When she took a small bag of toiletries into the bathroom, he raised an eyebrow, wondering if he should break the ice or not. She made the decision for him, moving to pick up her bag from the other bed.


“Which bed do you want?” she asked, clearly ready to stake a claim, lest they have any confusion later on after alcohol had entered their systems.


“Whichever one you’ll be inhabiting,” he smiled.


“Dream on.”


“Every night.”


“God, you haven’t changed at all, have you?” she rolled her eyes, tossing her bag over next to the bed that he wasn’t sitting on.


“What are you so bent out of shape for?”


“You’re kidding me, right? Given our history,” she said.


“Is there someone else you’d rather be here with? I mean, if you have a boyfriend, there’s no way you would have let Logan drag you along. Unless you’ve got a thing for him,” he set his jaw, clearly not liking that option.


“I don’t have a thing for Logan.”


“Good.”


“He’s not my type. He’s rich, arrogant, and self-absorbed. I can see why you two are so close, however.”


“So, why did you come, Rory?” he stood up from the bed and moved closer to her, wanting to infringe on her personal space. He achieved his desired effect—her skin staining a rosy hue further up her neck the closer in he leaned.


“I came to have a good time.”


“And you’re so sure we can’t have a good time together?” his voice lowered, the husky tone filling her ears and shooting down her spine. She willed her eyes to stay open, but she couldn’t quite make herself meet his eyes, staring just over his left ear instead.


“I didn’t say that,” she managed.


“Because all you’ve done thus far is protest this. Maybe if you just relaxed and gave this a chance, you’d be pleasantly surprised.”


She said nothing; she just looked down at the floor. He nodded, and moved to his own bag, pulling out a large box and tossing it at her.


“You can change in the bathroom. I’ll get dressed out here.”


“What is this?”


“Surely Logan’s taught you about event integrity,” he mused. She nodded, catching his meaning—it was themed. Of course. She took the box and disappeared into the bathroom. She wondered how long it would take him to get changed. The thought of him stripping down out of his form-fitting T-shirt and expensive designer jeans made her heart beat faster. Trying to will her physiology to obey her, she opened the box, gasping at what she saw. She pulled up the black, shiny material and held it up against her body and gazed in the mirror disbelievingly.


Moments later there came a knock at the door.


“Everything okay in there?”


“Uh, I think there was a mistake. Is there another box in your bag?”


“What do you mean, doesn’t it fit?” he asked, his voice clearly showing his concern.


“Like a glove,” she admitted.


“Then come on out, let me see,” he encouraged.


She opened the door, revealing her costume to him. He felt a surge of warmth flood down his body as he physically reacted to the sight of her in the tight leather bodysuit. It looked like it’d been painted onto her, but her face revealed it wasn’t the first outfit she would have chosen for herself.


“You forgot something,” he managed, meeting her eyes finally after they traveled over the rest of her body.


“Such as?” she gritted the words through clenched teeth.


“I believe you’ll find an accessory in your box,” he smirked.


Sighing, she sashayed over to the box that lay open on the counter, causing him to hold in a groan. She rifled through the tissue paper that the getup had been encased in, and finally her fingers grasped something solid. She pulled up a small whip, and raised an eyebrow.


“Well, finally something fair.”


“What do you mean, fair?”


“Now I can take out my revenge on you and Logan.”


“Hmm, kinky. Aren’t you going to say anything about my outfit?”


“I think you’re supposed to wear pants under those,” she commented apathetically.


“That would be interfering with the integrity of the event,” he smiled. “Shall we?”


“What is the event, may I ask?” she remained in place, unwilling to join him.


“S&M Ball.”


He said the words like he was saying he was going to pick his grandmother up from bingo. Even in her state of dress, she couldn’t quite believe his words. ‘Well, at least I’m fully covered, like Paris suggested,’ she thought to herself. Not that her outfit left much to the imagination. She had to forego underwear to slide into the outfit more effectively. She had to admit the soft leather felt good against her skin, and the sight of Tristan in assless chaps and a cowboy hat wasn’t doing anything to diminish her curiosity either.


“Ready?” he offered his hand to her, which she took and followed him back down to the main ballroom to join the rest of the LDB members.


ooxxXxxoo


“Spank me,” Finn pleaded, dropping to his knees in front of her and her whip. She giggled when she got a full view of his outfit. He was fitted in a body harness, with metal clips and leather strips all over his chest, and what looked to be shiny leather underwear, a similar material to her bodysuit. “Or step on me. I love those stiletto boots, Darling,” he ran one hand up her calf.


“I think you have a groupie,” Tristan murmured into her ear, eyeing the Australian as he bowed before her.


“Get up Finn. Where’s your date?”


“Around somewhere. She doesn’t look quite as ravishing as you do, Love,” he assured her.


Rory took a look around. The ballroom had been decorated in black and silver, very dark and secretive looking, as she would have pictured an S&M event looking. Blacked out windows, not much décor. Not that she’d actually ever imagined what an S&M event would look like. Well, not a lot, anyhow.


“You want something to drink?”


She returned her gaze back to Tristan, who was kicking Finn away from his date’s ankles.


“Uh, sure.”


“Preferences?”


“Something strong,” she requested, still feeling a bit timid about the event she’d gotten herself into. She should be infuriated that Logan had ensnared her into a kinky fetish-filled evening with none other than the prior bane of her existence, Tristan DuGrey. She hadn’t seen this man for three years—since he was escorted out of school, being shipped off by his father to military school. He’d caused so many problems for her with her then boyfriend—who hadn’t exactly kept her out of trouble, either. She had tried to be friends with Tristan back then, but he’d made is so impossible—always seeming to care more about getting into her pants than being her friend. Now, as she watched him walk away, she wondered if perhaps she’d been remiss in turning him down so often once upon a time.


“Who knew you were hiding such a body under your normal clothes?” came another voice from beside her. She looked to see Logan standing next to Finn, who’d gotten up after Tristan’s literal swift kick to his ass. Logan was a bit more modestly dressed—still with no shirt on, but he had some sort of rubberized kilt on, completely covering his naughty bits—unless he bent over, she was guessing. Underwear was probably considered taboo at this particular gathering.


She fixed him with her infamous withering stare. “I’m never speaking to you again.”


“If you like, you can use your whip on me,” he smiled, leaning in close.


She rolled her eyes, keeping her promise of silence.


“Oh, come on. This is the thanks I get for reuniting two long-lost friends?”


“I don’t know who you’ve spoken with, but Tristan and I were never friends.”


“I knew I could get you to talk to me, you hate to lose an argument.”


“This isn’t an argument. This is me telling you what a weasel-y thing you’ve done.”


“I just helped out an old friend. And complimented a new one. You do look hot.”


“Here’s your drink,” Tristan held a dark liquid-filled glass in front of her. “Need me to hold your whip, or are you planning on using it in the near future?” he asked, noting the displeased look she was casting toward Logan.


“Logan thinks I look hot,” she informed Tristan, testing his reaction.


“Well, he has eyes,” Tristan said in a lilted tone, putting his arm back around her shoulders. She didn’t shirk him off, surprising him.


“We’ll see you two later,” Logan exchanged nods with Tristan, taking Finn along to leave the couple alone.


“So, what exactly does one do at an S&M ball?” Rory asked flirtatiously.


“Stop playing coy, like you don’t hit one every weekend,” he teased. He was a bit wary of her sudden taking to him, but he couldn’t complain about her dropping the defenses a bit. He had always imagined if she just dropped her good girl façade they could have a hell of a lot of fun together. And with her in that outfit, he wasn’t sure how long he could wait to have this fun with her.


“So, did you pick out my outfit?”


“I did. I figured you wouldn’t want anything too revealing. This seemed to call your name.”


“How sweet,” she batted her eyelashes at him before taking a long, smooth drink of whatever Tristan had brought her. He was surprised; the amount of alcohol in that would have choked someone that wasn’t used to it. Everything this girl did amazed him.


“So, do you want to dance, or get a good look at everyone? I saw a girl on the other side with a dildo strapped onto the front of her costume. Her date actually looked a little freaked out. He had very strategically placed holes in his costume,” he laughed.


“Let’s dance,” she said bravely, wanting to tease him a bit more. She had no intentions of letting things get out of control with Tristan—but it didn’t mean she couldn’t have her revenge. She would get him all coiled up, only to give him no release. That seemed the perfect way to get back at him for getting her sucked into this whole experience. This whole evening would be a series of longing glances, slow grazes, and heated proximity until she retired to their room to curl up with a good book, leaving him in the need for a cold shower. Or five.


The music was pulsating around them, the booming bass making the lyrics almost unintelligible. She supposed it was more important at this kind of party to move everyone’s bodies together in the motions akin to a sex act than it was to be able to hear the actual words to “Hoochie Mama.”


He slid one arm around her waist, pulling her in expertly against his torso. She took her whip in between her teeth seductively, grinning at him as she let him take over the movements, grinding into him as they came together to the beat. She figured she should execute her plan slowly, building up on her level of involvement for believability. She wanted him primed, pumped, and fully disappointed.


Taking her accessory out of her mouth, she ran the leather stripped end down his bare chest, her eyes locked on his the whole time. She could see the lust building in his steely blue eyes, but he remained steady in his movements against her; his body still barely brushing hers as she connected during the downbeats. She smiled sweetly, hitting the top of the leather material that looped around his midsection and grazing it back and forth, just barely dipping underneath the barrier with the tip. She had to admit that his abdominal muscles that she’d just traced and tickled were something to marvel at—she’d seen many men half dressed in her time, but it was obvious he took exceptional care of his body. His body looked almost hand sculpted, created exactly as if she’d sent in specifications that might make her dizzy with want.


She willed herself to believe that the naughty thoughts that flitted through her mind now would just make his unraveling easier. To make her act more believable if you will. She let herself imagine what it would be like to be in command of him back in their room, controlling his movements with a flick of her wrist, leather coming in contact with electrified skin, his hands searching out her body through the leather first, the slightly rough underside of her leather suit causing just enough friction under the weight of his touch to . . . .


She was jerked out of her thoughts as he moved in closer, actually bringing some of her fantasy to fruition. His knee slid between her legs, grinding the fabric into her soft skin. She braced herself, using her free hand to grip onto his shoulder for the duration of this ride. She reached out her other hand and boldly swatted at his uncovered ass, leaving a small red welt on the tanned skin.


“My, my, Mary, I always knew you’d like it a little rough,” he growled into her ear.


“Oh, you have no idea,” she purred, grinding back against him harder on the next meeting of their flowing bodies.


He was finding the inability of the leather to give a problem. He wondered how long they’d do this little mating dance before he could transition them back to their room to gain relief. He hadn’t imagined she’d be the same virginal figure that he once knew—in fact he was banking on it. He hadn’t exactly wanted this to be a singular occurrence either—he’d had Logan working on priming her for months, hoping that once she got a taste of this lifestyle she’d be more willing to get involved with him instead of dismissing him based on his father’s annual income, as she had years before. After all, what are friends for? He tried to ignore her roaming hands and heady eyes, so as to prolong the seduction.


The beat changed, slowing his motions, and hers by extension, considerably. From the faster paced rap song, the industrial heartbeat of Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer” was almost like transitioning to a traditional slow dance. His hand slid down her side, his fingers digging in deeper as they trailed in the wake of his palm.


She thanked whatever higher power had willed this song to be chosen next. She had always found it to be vulgar and disgusting. It was too raw, too indecent, for her tastes. She could focus her attention on her dislike and not on the urge to mimic his hands’ ministrations against her hips, using her tongue against his.


She felt her heartbeat pound to the strong pulsing techno-beat of the song as his lips came in dangerous range of her ear. She could feel the heat of his breath tickling the soft, fine hairs down the nape of her neck.


The hypnotic lyrics had begun to pour forth from the speakers, and Tristan was whispering the nearly pornographic scenes it described into her ear. She closed her eyes as he spoke of violation, penetration, and fucking. Fucking. What animals do. Not people. She normally winced at the images brought up by the very word. It was why she hated this song so. What transpired between a man and a woman shouldn’t be lessened to a carnal act. There should be something more than that.


At least, that what she would have told Tristan if she wasn’t using her nails to grip onto his shoulders, trying to hold herself up as her knees went weak with the line, “I want to feel you from the inside.”


She honestly wasn’t sure if it was the sound of his voice, breathy and baritoned, or the visual it caused of herself wrapped around him, hanging on for dear life as he pounded in and out of her, making her call out his name in ecstasy. The entirety of the song began to sound like lyrical poetry, and it caused her to whimper as he continued to tell the tale in his own words. A confessional of a man finding meaning in the frantic coming together with this woman to whom he sings. They build each other up as they rip at each other. Fucking.


By the second time he admitted his existence was flawed and that she was bringing him closer to God, she found her leg wrapped around his waist, his arm holding it in place as he backed her against a support beam. She’d dropped her whip, needing both hands to grab hold and caress his skin. He was hot under her fingertips, and she shivered as he finished the song by tracing her outer earlobe with his teeth. Without thinking, she gave in to the overwhelming need and crashed her lips against his. She’d never experienced tenderness through brashness—but that was exactly how she would describe this night from then on. She could imagine nothing more tender or sweet than the hiss he gave as she bit his shoulder when he bent down enough to whisper into her ear yet again, this time words that were inspired solely by her.


“I want to bend you over the bed and fuck you until you can’t remember your name,” he said, scraping his manicured nails down her neck, taking the hair he’d fisted along for a tug.


She gave as much of an agreement as she could muster, a brief nod as she focused on her breath, now coming shallow and hard, heaving her chest under the weight of her want. The true punishment now seemed that her own release from her tightly wound core would not come. In the course of one song, this man had turned the tables on her, and she wanted him—perhaps needed him—to find the relief that none other had brought her.


“Take me, Tristan,” she breathed back, just loud enough to be heard over the still pounding music.


“Fuck yeah,” he scooped her up in one swift motion, bending her at the waist and throwing her over the shoulder. He made quick for the exit, and she felt the surge of adrenaline shoot through her from knowing his next destination.


“DuGrey!”


Tristan stopped to turn toward the voice calling out his name, begrudgingly, but smiled as he saw Finn approaching the pent-up couple. He held up Rory’s whip in one hand, an amused look on his face.


“Don’t want to forget the necessities, do you? How else will she keep you in place?”


Tristan took the object out of the other man’s hands. “Thanks. We’re just gonna—go,” he said quickly, not wanting to take the time for small talk. He had a squirming, sexually primed female using her nails against his back to show her displeasure of his detour. Now just wasn’t the time for anything but haste.


ooxxXxxoo


He tossed her onto the bed, glad for the automatic locking of the hotel room door behind them. He advanced over her within a blink of an eye, straddling her hips so she couldn’t move out from under his weight. She stared him down, waiting as he took all of her in to meet her gaze again. She didn’t blush as he took his time, his hands wandering along with the roaming of his eyes. He brushed over her throat, feeling out the protrusion of her collarbone, swelling down the curve of her breasts—lingering to see the reactions different levels of pressure brought forth from her.


“Feel good?” he asked as she bucked up against him upon feeling his thumbs brush against both of her erect, though leather clad, nipples. She closed her eyes in anticipation of feeling other parts of him exciting the sensitized areas; how his tongue would feel as he laved and lashed at the stiffened peak, while his hand massaged the other breast to overwhelm her nervous system with pleasure.


In answer, she slipped her hands down from over her head and pulled the whip out from his waistband, where he’d secured it for safe keeping on the hurried walk back to their room. He was surprised by the smack to his own nipple, and he seethed back in surprise at the snap of pain.


“Jesus,” he glared at her.


“Up, please,” she said sweetly, running her fingers along the length of the thin rod in her hands. He sat up off of her, allowing her freedom of movement.


“Lie down,” she said, pointing to the bed with her whip. “Now.”


He did as she said, a pleased look now covering his face. Gone was the question as to why she’d sought out to hurt him. Seems Rory Gilmore was more of a sex vixen than he’d ever dared fantasize about in the past.


“So, I thought chaps were supposed to be open in the front,” she said running the leather braided tip down along his crotch, applying just enough pressure to make him know she meant business.


“They’re custom-made for the event. I wouldn’t want to give everything away all at once, would I? Besides, it’s just a flap,” he said, lifting up on the edge to demonstrate, but not give her a full view. She’d have to come and get it if she wanted to play this game.


A wide smile broke over her face. “So, you like my outfit?” she said, holding the crop at its length with both hands.


“Yes,” he nodded approvingly, reaching up to run his hands over her body to show her.


She swatted his arm with the whip. “How much?”


He swallowed. “What do you mean?”


“Do you want me, Tristan?”


“Look and see,” he dared.


Placing her whip behind her on the bed and just out of his reach, she slid down his legs to get into a comfortable kneeling position between his legs. Lifting the flap up to reveal his answer, she gave him an approving smile before running her fingers down the length of his shaft, making him close his eyes now in pleasure as she took a firm grasp and moved rhythmically along it, testing out pressures and speeds. He opened his eyes to view this creature, to see her pleasuring him, only to witness as she removed her hand and lowered her lips toward the tip, licking them in anticipation. She giggled as she watched his manhood swell at the recognition of what she was preparing to do.


“My, my, Tristan, I never would have guess you liked to be dominated,” she teased before she ran her tongue along the underneath side of his shaft, causing him to grip the sheets until his knuckles turned white.


“Fuck,” he shuddered as she took him into her mouth, creating almost a vacuum with her mouth as she began to consume him. It became difficult to control her motions as he began bucking against the rhythm she had created, and the heat of her outfit made it almost unbearable to continue. She wanted out of her leather encasing, but she was also getting a thrill from seeing the effects she was having on him. To say it was a turn on to see him at her mercy, writhing in pleasure as she sucked and licked at him—it was the grossest understatement of all. She could feel the moisture pooling at her core, ready and willing for him to take over from wherever she left off.


Knowing the end would come all too soon if she kept at him, he unfurled his fists from the satin sheets and made them move up to her shoulders, forcing her back perhaps a little rougher than he’d planned. She landed on her back at the other end of the bed, her eyes wide at the sudden shift in power.


“I think it’s time I showed you something,” he said, running his hand up the inside of her right thigh. He grazed over the now engorged area just above with his thumb, and she felt a tug as he threaded his fingers through what felt like a loose thread. He pulled up brashly and continued to rip up until the outfit fell apart down the center line of her body.


Her mouth gaped open, staring as he discarded the hidden pull tab. He pushed away the material that clung to her body, which was moistened with sex and want, to bend his head down to swirl his hot tongue around her waiting nipple, making her feel even better than she’d imagined earlier. She tried to move against his hand, which was softly petting her core as he scraped, sucked, and gently caressed her nipple with his teeth and tongue, bringing out the full range of reactions from her. He could feel her chomping at the bit as it were, wanting him to go further, deeper into her.


“What do you want, Rory?” he commanded, moving up, placing open-mouthed kisses from her breastbone to her pulse point under her ear.


“I want to feel you inside me,” she moaned, “Please,” she opened her eyes, meeting his mouth in steamy, open-mouthed, insistent urging. Teeth clashed and tongues dueled, and she gasped as he quickly thrust two fingers inside of her, obeying her command.


“Like that?” he mused, “Or like this?” he moved down and extracted his pumping fingers, taking them into her mouth to savor the taste of her sex. Her pupils dilated with fascination as he used them now to open her wider, allowing his lips to descend down, using his tongue to do the work that his fingers had been doing.


“Nnnuh, God,” she called, her fingers in his hair, holding him closer against her. He could barely breathe, sustained only on her sweet scent as he continued to alternate between sucking the small pleasure button into his mouth, paying attention to it with his tongue before leaving it altogether to explore her hot cavern with his skilled tongue. He was driving her insane—they both knew it. She continued to arch into him, as if to increase the sensations. She was looking for something more.


“Or like this,” he said, moving two fingers once again inside her as his lips attacked her clit, sucking as hard and fast as he could while his fingers, now deep inside her, matched the rhythm of his tongue.


“Tristan,” she called, his name sounding like music to his ears. He wanted to hear her scream his name over and over like that, for all eternity. Surely there was nothing closer to heaven on this earth. It drove him to keep up the frenzied pace, even more so when he saw her own hands move to her breasts, pulling and twisting at her nipples to help her hasten the oncoming breaking of the floodgates. He continued; feeling her seize up around his fingers, and drinking in the sweet nectar that was brought forth from his actions. He took no time in withdrawing himself from her, leaving her still quaking in aftershocks of pleasure. Before she could protest the lack of touch, he had flipped her over and was standing at the edge of the bed, pulling her by the ankles across the fabric toward him. She groaned as the fabric rubbed against her body, her taut nipples and exposed clit sending her almost over the edge of another orgasm with him touching only her ankles.


“I promised,” he leaned to whisper in her ear as her hair fell into her face. He raised her hips off the corner of the bed and slid himself into her fast, easy only because she was so wet—her recent orgasm had left the opening as tight as a vise grip.


“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned in her ear as he eased back out of her, ready to experience the sensation of being engulfed by her again. And again and again and again.


“Faster, Tristan,” she instructed, trying her best to meet his thrusts, but found herself too overcome as he appeased her, moving not only faster but harder against her, hitting areas more sensitive than even his fingers could hit before. He reached around, to play with her clit as he worked, braced only by her folded over form in front of him.


He filled her, over and over, bringing her closer with every stroke, every second. Her eyes filled up with tears, never before having felt anything so intense in her life. She could feel him everywhere, even in areas she knew he wasn’t physically touching. She felt a bead of sweat drop from his laboring forehead onto her back, and the idea of her being covered by every part of him sent her over the edge. Well, that and the last stroke against her G-spot.


“Fuck, yes, Rory,” he called out, as the tightening of her inner walls was too much for him to endure. He rode out his orgasm with her spasming around him, milking him dry and leaving him spent.


She collapsed under his weight, falling onto her stomach as he pressed into her back. Slowly regaining strength, he slid off to her side, moving her hair back that clung to her neck in clumps and loose strands, all sweat-soaked from their activities.


She gave him a shy smile, the same smile that he’d seen countless times at Chilton. How she managed to transform from a siren to a lamb in such a short amount of time intrigued him. It always had.


“So, you approve of the costumes, then?” he asked, earning him a deepened blush. He loved how her skin became pink in certain areas when she became aroused, as if mapping out her pleasure for him. Not that he was content to touch her only in certain places.


“I can’t even believe what has happened in the last four hours,” she admitted. “Did you,” she began hesitantly, but decided given their new level of intimacy she shouldn’t feel timid around him. For any reason. “Did you really plan this all out for me?”


“Well, it was Finn who suggested the S&M Ball for the yearly event’s theme. But I did use my contacts to get you here.”


“Meaning, Logan?”


Tristan nodded and propped himself up on one elbow, using one hand to support his weary head and one hand to trace the line of her curves from just under her breast down to her hip.


“Early this year, I called Logan to catch up and he mentioned that he’d just had a run-in with a nosy reporter. This girl seemed to have gotten under his skin, complaining about the snobbery of rich people and seemed out to get him and his kind. The more he described this girl, the more interested I got. I asked if he knew her name, and when he said your name, I almost cut class to high-tail it out to Yale right then and there.”


“That was months ago. Why did you wait so long?”


“I wanted you to see what all of this was like. I trusted Logan not to go after you, and I thought that maybe I could see if you were still the same woman I’d been fantasizing about all these years. Didn’t you ever think about me?”


She looked him dead in the eye and smiled. “Well, maybe once or twice. I always wondered,” she bit her lip, halting her thoughts midway through her elocution.


“Wondered what?” he asked softly, thinking surely nothing had been left to the imagination now.


“I wondered what would have happened if you’d just kissed me before you left, like you said. You know, back at Chilton.”


“I guess we’ll never know,” he admitted, “but making up for lost time can be fun, too,” he hinted, leaning down to entangle her yet again with a smoldering kiss and a surge of hormones.


ooxxXxxoo


“So, you still want to kill me?” Logan leaned into Rory at the table, as they awaited the rest of the group to return to the table. They’d just arrived back at the hotel from the main event—though it hadn’t topped her night of mind-blowing sex with Tristan—where six willing victims had volunteered their bodies to fit into specially made barrels (your old fashioned wooden death traps just wouldn’t do for this bunch) and plummet themselves over the waterfall that fell into the scenic lake a couple of miles away from the resort they were staying in. The rest of the group watched, toasting with champagne as they fell through the water and air, landing with a triumphant bob in the lake like six buoys until they floated to the safety of shore. And there was much rejoicing. She had been more than happy to stay encased in Tristan’s arms, having done her fair share of pitfalls for the group in the past.


“You might live to see another day,” she mused, not being able to stop the smile from covering her face.


“And here I thought you hated rich boys like me.”


“Shouldn’t you just be happy you didn’t die earlier?”


“Admit it, you love me. You’re glad I came into your life. Otherwise, you might never have found out how much you love S&M,” he teased.


“What are we talking about?” Finn asked as he sat down to eat next to his friends.


“How much Rory here likes her new toy.”


“Tristan or the whip?” Finn asked, genuinely curious.


“Again, it better be me,” Tristan said, sliding in next to Rory, who smiled at him appreciatively.


“Now what kind of fun would it be if I answered that question?” she teased him and the other boys who were watching them.


“What the hell went on in your room last night?” Logan asked, eying the new pair as they gazed at one another, clearly reliving the events of the prior evening over in the other’s eyes.


“A lady never whips and tells,” she admonished him, causing Tristan to raise his glass in a toast to her.


“To keeping the dream alive,” he clinked his glass against hers and slid his free hand to rest on her thigh as they fell into conversation with their friends, laughing and enjoying their dinner.


ooxxXxxoo


“Can I take you home?” he asked as she zipped up her suitcase back in their room. The second bed, which remained unused, had made the perfect packing station.


She looked up in surprise. “Don’t you have to get back to school?”


“You’re on my way,” he considered. “Or at least, I’ll make sure you are.”


“Do I have to wear a blindfold?” she asked, only half serious.


“Only if that’s what gets you hot,” he smirked.


He pulled her in for a kiss to seal the deal. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her quite yet. She leaned her forehead against his and looked into his eyes, as if considering something.


“What?”


“It’s just, when we got here, Logan said something about if something should happen—but he didn’t finish his thought. Do you know what he was talking about?”


Tristan nodded. “These activities of ours—they aren’t always the most legal things, which I’m sure you’re aware of. Sometimes the cops get tipped off to our whereabouts and we have to scatter. He was probably going to tell you to stick with me and not waste time trying to find him.”


“Ah. So, he was telling me to trust you.”


“Don’t you?”


She leaned up, and put her arms to rest on his shoulders. She could feel the heat that ignited every time he was close enough to touch her building again, and she decided it was time to see what it was like to be completely soft and available to him.


“Yes. I do.”

She got her wish. He leaned in further, barely brushing his lips across hers at first, the sweet pressure of not lust, but love. He slowly picked her up by the waist and lifted her over to the next, still unmade, bed, and laid her down, planning to enjoy the luxury of time. To take the time to make sure this weekend would be more than a crazy, lust-filled night. To make sure she knew of his readiness of devotion. To make sure he knew she wasn’t willing to watch him walk out of her life for another three years.