Fifty Shades of Whatever: a Valentine's Day Drabble
Bronze hair. Check. Clean-shaven jawline. Check. New suit and tie. Check. Sex-god attitude? No check.
Edward sighed, staring balefully at his reflection. He glanced down at the book lying on the toilet tank. He was an idiot for listening to the women at work. Bronze hair and skinny did not a Christian Grey make. His jaw wasn't sculpted; it was just square. He wasn't a billionaire; he'd barely scraped together enough money to buy the suit. And he sure as hell didn't have a 'Holy cow!' cock. Edward thought his resemblance to the character was far from 'uncanny', as his coworkers had so excitedly put it. How was he ever going to pull this off without looking like a complete idiot and ruining their Valentine's evening?
He heard the front door open and shut, and a happily shouted 'I'm home!'
Breathe, Edward. Just breathe. He grabbed the riding crop—borrowed from one of the women at work—and strode confidently (?) out of the bathroom. "I've been waiting for you," he said, trying to sound dark and dangerous.
Deep blue eyes rose to meet his. "Have you now?" A playful smirk and an elegantly arched eyebrow eased Edward's nervousness.
"Lose the clothes," Edward ordered. They flew in every direction. Wow, this ordering shit is pretty awesome.
Then his nervousness returned. Are you really going to listen to those crazy women and hit that beautiful ass with a crop?
A sexy wink. "Not too hard, okay? I gotta be able to sit down at work on Monday."
Edward inhaled, hoping there was some courage mixed in with the oxygen in the room. He gave that fine ass a half-hearted little whack.
"Is that all you got, honey?"
He whacked again—a little harder this time—as he remembered waking up bared-ass and shivering last night, all the blankets on the other side of the bed. I'm Christian Fucking Grey! You don't question me! He was starting to feel the rush, the power of dominance. Then, the Who-is-Going-to-Take-Out-the-Trash debacle from last week resurfaced, and Edward whacked even harder. He always lost the trash battle. And then there was the closet space issue...
Whack!
"Ow!" That fine ass wiggled. Edward threatened to get out the rope if it didn't stay still. What rope? All you have is this cheap Wal-mart tie.
Then Edward said the whole I'm-Going-to-Fuck-You-Hard thing, threatening to slam all six inches in to the hilt, while he whacked away at that ass. That'll teach you for always making me unload the dishwasher!
"I really hope you're not going to do the tampon thing."
Edward dropped the riding crop and sighed. "You've read the book, too?"
Soft laughter. "Yeah, but unlike Christian, you're really cute when you're bossy."
"I just wanted to spice things up a little," Edward said.
"Come here, you." Edward found himself enveloped in warm, strong arms. "I love you, babe."
"I love you too, Em," Edward said. "Happy Valentine's Day."
"Now, about that fucking me hard thing…"