A Time for Us
This story is a companion to "Fifty Shades of Post-Partum." It contains more explicit love scenes. Each chapter is tied to another chapter of the larger story.
A time for us, some day there'll be.
When chains are torn by courage born of a love that's free.
A time when dreams so long denied can flourish.
As we unveil the love we now must hide
A time for us, at last to see.
A life worthwhile for you and me.
And with our love, through tears and thorns.
We will endure as we pass surely through every storm.
A time for us, some day there'll be a new world.
A world of shining hope for you and me
For you and me.
And with our love, through tears and thorns.
We will endure as we pass surely through every storm.
A time for us, some day there'll be a new world.
A world of shining hope for you and me.
A world of shining hope for you and me.
Love Theme from the 1968 movie Romeo and Juliet
Reprinted without permission
Chapter 1: Sweet Dreams
After months of this illness, this depression, I am finally rediscovering that part of me that craves my husband in a sensual, sexual way. I used to call her my inner goddess, but then she started to piss me off. Her one-track mind really irritated me, so I killed her off. I no longer have any need of foolish metaphors to think of being with my husband like that.
Here I am in the hospital. I suppose that as hospital experiences go, it's not too, too bad. I have a private suite with essentially no visiting hours and no restrictions on my visitors. I have my own private nurse and my own private doctor. I don't even have to eat hospital food or sleep on hospital sheets. Sometimes it's good to be Christian Grey's wife.
The worst part about being here in the hospital is the lack of any real privacy. At home, even if Shonda, my nurse, is down the hall in her own room, we know that she will not enter unless called or without knocking. We can lock the door. In this room, it is impossible to lock the door, for obvious reasons. My safety is the biggest one. What would happen if I could lock her out?
Right now I can think of several things, none of which involve hurting myself. I realize that I not only want privacy with my husband, I need it. It has been a long day. There was my first group therapy session, talking with Charlotte, and then talking with Mia and Ethan, so much talking and so tiring. Will a shower restore me?
As I step into the shower, I can't help but wonder about what Christian is up to now. It seems as though every time I turn around now, he has devised some sweet, little thoughtful gesture to comfort me. Is a simple basket of roses really so much? Or pictures of Christmas loaded on the iPad?
I remember the days when it was laptops and Blackberries and cars and, oh yes, the iPad itself. Those were grand gestures, not born out of a desire to comfort (except for the iPad), but out of an obsession with my safety. And then there were the clothes, so many clothes, bought so that I would be properly dressed when I went out on his arm. They were gifts, which met some deep need in him to control me.
The hot water feels so good as it rushes over my body. Without thinking, I shave my legs. The hair is so long that I could braid it. I look at myself and frown. The last Brazilian wax was months ago. Should I? No, if I don't do it perfectly then he will take matters in his own hands, literally. I still haven't gotten over the humiliation in London on our honeymoon. He's just going to have to live with the natural look.
Wait a minute! What am I thinking? Or am I even thinking? (Well, with my mind anyway.) I haven't felt this way in months. He's been sleeping by my side for months and I haven't felt this kind of . . . desire. Charlotte did promise to talk to Shonda for us, to tell her to leave us alone so that we could . . .
When I am finally ready (I'm still not sure of what for), I enter into the room and see that Christian has set a peaceful, almost romantic, mood. There is a sweet smelling candle lit on the nightstand and music softly playing on the iPad, the Marcello, sad but intensely beautiful and evocative of better times. It reminds me of the first time, the time when I woke up after he had taken my virginity and left me alone in bed. I found him playing the piano.
I glance over and he is sitting on the couch, but not expectantly, as I would have thought. No, he is looking at me cautiously. And I can see in that instant that he doesn't want me to feel compelled to do anything that I don't want to do. Yet, I feel compelled to do something.
"You've thought of everything," I say quietly and walk over to the nightstand where the familiar foil packet lies next to the candle.
I pick it and turn it over in my hands. More memories flood my mind. I remember when I didn't know what to do with one of these.
"Your choice," he says gently, but with a catch in his voice. "Your speed."
I drop the packet back on the nightstand and turn to him. He is looking at me with love, not lust. The pull of his soft grey eyes is magnetic. He is dressed in pajamas, both shirt and bottoms. An errant thought crosses my mind. We'll have to fix that, won't we?
Words pass between us. They are meaningless, yet filled with meaning, saying things that betray the depths of our feelings.
"You have changed very much," I finally say, almost involuntarily.
"Haven't we both?" he responds.
Once again, he says more, but I don't hear him. My ears are humming as I approach him. His eyes on me, despite their caution, are hypnotic. I reach out my hand and he grasps it. And then he allows me to pull him up and in front of me. Slowly, I slide my arms around his neck and press my lips against his.
Unconsciously, I open my mouth and his tongue slides in to explore. Then I give myself over to my instincts. I feel the warmth rippling through my body and press myself against him. I feel his erection against my belly and press my hips closer.
In a second, I am in his arms and he walks over to the bed and lays me down. I tremble in anticipation. I want him desperately, but I am afraid that when the moment comes I won't be able to follow through. He seems to read my mind and lies carefully down beside me. He turns on his side and rubs his knuckles softly on my cheek. Where his skin touches mine, it tingles.
"Whatever you want, whatever you are ready for," he says gently. "I will follow your lead. If all you want is for me to hold you as you sleep or to watch you as I did that first night, then that is what I will do."
"Is that enough?" I ask, fearful that I will disappoint him.
"That was one of the happiest nights of my life," he replies. "And my first concern has always been to protect you and keep you safe. That includes now."
His response is so Christian that I have to smile. I lean over him and kiss him. I close my eyes so I can appreciate his taste and scent more fully. My hands move of their own accord, as he grasps my head. Then I shift myself because I want him on top. I can feel how careful he is not to put his full weight on me, undoubtedly fearful that he could crush me. I know what he wants, what I want.
I begin by unbuttoning the nightshirt that I am wearing. I feel as though I can't bear to have any barrier between us and I know that he is reluctant to do it for me, to push me into anything against my will. I am not sure that he realizes that my will is his. i want this as bad as he does. I can feel his hands, his mouth, his tongue on me. It makes me come alive again. Oh yes, insanity, it has been insanity to deny myself this pleasure for so long. My hands find his shirt buttons and I pull it off so that I can feel him.
Christian is the only man with whom I have shared this most intimate act between a man and a woman. I gave myself to him years ago, my virginity freely offered up to this most masterful of all lovers. I have only ever been his and since he met me, he has only ever been mine. But now he stops for a moment. Even though I can feel that he is ready to explode.
"You!" his voice is hoarse. "Your lead. Take me where you want."
I have no words to express my desire, but at least I remember the condom. I pick it up and unroll it on him, as it is his turn to tremble in anticipation. He is so strong, so firm beneath my fingers. I am almost reluctant to cover him up, but I have no choice. I can't risk another pregnancy right now. And since Phoebe stopped nursing I have lost even that bit of birth control.
"You! Now!" I say when he is fully sheathed.
"Are you sure?"
Am I sure?
"You," I hear myself gasp. "My choice . . . For me!"
He lifts his hips and thrusts more gently than I would have imagined, vanilla at its best. There is no impatience as he moves, as we move. Perhaps it is because we don't know when this will happen again. Or maybe we want this to last for as long as possible. I don't know, I am operating so slowly that I am barely present mentally. Yet physically, I am giving myself over to the gentle rhythm, feeling him move within me, savoring every inch of him as he fills me.
It has been months since he has been inside me, and years since we have used a condom. There is not as much lubrication as I might want, probably the meds, but there is no stopping for either of us. We must complete this act, bring it to its obvious conclusion. I feel myself building. And then he stills, quietly releasing and emptying himself into me. His release brings mine, barely a second later.
The orgasm rips through me but I don't cry out, still dimly conscious of the sharp ears of the nurse in the outer room. Containing myself like that intensifies the experience and I collapse, exhausted from the effort. He leans up and we gaze into each other's eyes. This is love, complete bliss.
"I love you," he whispers in my ear.
"Me too," I reply.
Vaguely I am aware as he turns me around so that I am cradled in his arms. As I lose consciousness, I am vaguely aware of the iPad still playing in the background. Basking in the afterglow, I feel his hands softly caressing me. It is soothing, not at all stimulating. Once upon a time, it might have been. Once upon a time, we might have continued for a few more rounds. But once upon a time is long ago. Now we have this one precious moment, this one sacred act to enjoy.
I close my eyes and give myself over to the physical reality of his love, and drift.