Here we go, the next installment. My word program is still a disaster, and as such any typos (which are mine) were not caught by it... I do hope that this gets resolved soon.

Additionally, a bit of a warning; this chapter may cause a little 'squee' amongst those who are faint of heart. If the topic of masturbation makes you uncomfortable, I recommend you skip this chapter; the next chapter will be back to good ol' fashion angst. ;)

3*

CC wasn't in bed when Niles woke up the next morning. Rolling over to see her side of the bed empty, Niles groaned, and sat up, his head throbbing. With a quick glance at the clock, Niles realized that it was well past 10 in the morning. He'd overslept, again.

Normally, Niles would wake up when Claire cried. She'd be his 'wake up call', and every day without fail, she'd have him up by 7.

Stumbling out of bed, and down the hall, he peaked into the nursery, before realizing that Claire wasn't there; it only took a moment to realize that CC must have taken her with her that morning, which was a surprise. Usually they would coordinate ten different scenarios for CC if she had to take Claire; taking her without reason was unheard of.

It probably had everything to do with their conversation last night, which in only basic terms could be considered a conversation, even by their standards. Really, more than anything it was a fight.

Making his way into the bathroom, Niles thought about what had happened, and wondered when he let things go so far off path. He was just so tired, and although he wanted nothing more than to ravish his wife, there was a very distinct problem: his body wasn't quite on the same page.

When CC reminded him how their sex lives had been, it was a slap in the face.

She didn't realize it, but was already worried by the lack of response from her touch. By commenting on it, he felt accused – he wasn't living up to the standard they'd set, and he was just as disappointed as she was.

Looking in the mirror, Niles ran his fingers through his hair, and looked more closely at his features. Even though he'd overslept, he still looked as if he hadn't slept in days. He felt miserable, and even though most of that was because of his fight with CC, he knew something else had to be wrong.

He looked at how messy the bathroom was and realized that CC probably had been in a terrible mood that morning when she was getting ready. Her bottles, containers and jars were all over the counter, as if she'd let Claire play with them while she put on her make up, and CC had left her nightgown on the laundry basket, hanging over the edge precariously.

As neurotic as it was, he knew that CC had a very set system each morning – he'd observed it time and time again – and this did not fit the bill. She was meticulous with her things, and chaos drove her nuts. The state of the bathroom counter was a clear sign to Niles, whether she knew it or not. CC was still pissed off.

He couldn't blame her. He was still pissed off.

Niles had never had that sort of problem - or at least… not for no reason. Drunk maybe, sick even, but never before had he let himself down like that. Or CC. He could still see the pain in her eyes when she stopped him.

"Maybe I liked it more when it was spontaneous?"

How could he have said that? It was simple. He wasn't thinking. It just slipped out.

Sitting down on the toilet seat, Niles leaned back and closed his eyes, thinking about what a disaster this had all been. All of it.

Here he was, married to a young and beautiful woman, and he couldn't even keep her satisfied.

But maybe it was a one-time deal? Maybe this morning he'd be back in top form, and last night would have just been a terrible misunderstanding. Surely a prize thoroughbred couldn't be expected to rise to the occasion every time out of the gate, as long as he still won most of his races?

With his eyes still closed, Niles hoped his theory was right, and he wasn't just tempting fate… Maybe he just needed a little help getting back on track, and last night was … nothing more than performance anxiety run mad.

Reaching into his pajama bottoms and taking hold of himself, Niles thought about how the bathroom smelled like CC – the combination of her perfume and her body wash. For years before he had managed to finally tie her down, both literally and figuratively, he had often used that scent as motivation for his evening entertainment.

It was never the same as the real thing, and now that he had it, Niles could never imagine going back to the cheap imitation of his imagination, but it had always worked. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Thinking about her eyes, and her laugh, and her smile. Those thoughts had gotten him through many lonely nights, and very often had fueled some extremely hot fires.

He stroked his fingers over his skin, and tugged gently, thinking of CC, and the way she had laid herself out for him the night before, golden hair and shining blue eyes, practically begging him to ravish her.

The swell of her breasts and the curve of her hip were ingrained in his memory. Slowing his strokes, Niles inhaled the perfumed air around him, imagining her fingers on him, torturing him mercilessly as she so often did.

He thought about the way her stomach would rise and fall with every breath, faster and faster as he pleasured her and took her closer to the edge, and how that same stomach had been the home to their greatest creation together – and how miraculously she had managed to return her body to her previously svelte form. There was never a woman hotter than CC Babcock.

Imagining her lips on him, Niles tightened his hand and created more friction, willing himself to respond.

He remembered how CC looked laid out on the deck of the cottage they rented in Nice, for their honeymoon, and how the modest bathing suit she wore tortured him almost as much as she did when she drew her lips over his thigh tantalizingly slow in the afternoon sun.

When nothing else was enticing him, Niles decided that the tried and true would have to work; there were some memories that were made for the 'true life stories' sections of adult magazines, and though he didn't need any outside stimulation in his day-to-day life, maybe what he did need was a little memory therapy.

Reaching into the vaults, it was like digging out a special edition playboy, complete with an extra-special centerfold.

Slowing his motions to a near halt, Niles shifted his position, and began to think back to their days in New York, when things between them were still merely a torrid affair, and they were more than a little torrid themselves.

The first week they were together, CC had invited him out to a late dinner at a discreet little restaurant off the beaten path. Food was the furthest thing from their minds as her hand reached below the table to rest on the inside of his thigh; they hadn't even ordered drinks yet.

By dessert, her hand was in his pants, stroking his length in feather-light, torturous motions and CC, playing coy far too well for a woman who was giving him a hand job in a restaurant, sipped at her wine as if nothing was happening. How he had managed not to explode in her hand, he still didn't know, but the glimmer in her eye as she teased him mercilessly had been the hottest thing he had ever seen.

Niles thought about that night, as they fumbled their way into a taxi, their hands all over each other, barely able to give the address to the driver, and the way she tasted… Niles couldn't think of anything he loved more than kissing CC: feeling her body against his, and truly, properly kissing her. He thought about the weight of her breasts in his hands, as they leaned against the wall of her elevator, and the way her hips had jutted toward his, as if offering an invitation.

Niles groaned, realizing this wasn't going anywhere – there was a time when the mere thought of an elevator would have him hard and waiting, and now, even with his best efforts, Niles was seeing no hope.

Nothing.

Not even a flicker of life. Not even a spark. Oh, what he would give for a spark!

Releasing his grasp on himself, Niles leaned back against the back of the toilet, the cold ceramic jutting into his back. Resting his hand on his pants, he realized that this was really a problem, and not just over reacting.

There was no over reacting when it came to his inability to make love to his wife.

Thinking about the series of events, Niles decided that there was time for some outside help, of any kind. What ever the case may be, he needed to go see a doctor and figure out what was making his sex life (and his wife) miserable.

If memories of CC torturing him couldn't even get a reaction out of him, something had to be wrong.

Undressing himself, Niles turned on the water in the shower before he stepped in, barely thinking of anything but what was happening to them. He'd spent so much time trying to convince himself that all was well, but he couldn't even do the most basic things a man was supposed to do for his wife.

Feeling the water beat against his chest, Niles closed his eyes and wondered what all of this could mean for them in the long run. Making love wasn't the only thing in their relationship, though it was a favored method of conversation, and now they didn't even have that.

His heart sank at the notion that things might be falling apart and he silently resolved that he had to do something to fix it. Soon.