Chapter 55
Ana
My heart is immediately pounding. "Are you serious?"
His expression changes, morphing from playful to salacious. "Does this seem like a joking matter to you, Anastasia?"
"No," I breathe. I'm suddenly struck by the gravity of this moment, butterflies fluttering in my stomach like it's the first time. Get it together! "Here?"
He shakes his head. "No. Not here. I want you in our bed." He suddenly dips down and sweeps my legs out from under me, hoisting me up into his arms again. "Threshold," he murmurs in explanation.
I feel the quickening of his heart where I'm pressed against him, hyperaware his skin touching mine, even through our clothes. I don't know how he gets the door open, but I'm barely jostled as it swings shut behind us. He kisses me with abandon as he strides purposefully through the house, and somehow, we make it up the stairs.
I hear the click of the lock and then my back is pressed against the door. He slides me down until my toes touch the carpet, maintaining contact between our bodies every inch of the way. The lights are off, but the windows are unobstructed, and the moon is high, bathing the room in an ethereal glow. Both of his hands find their way into the hair at the base of my skull, tilting my head up to meet his smoldering gaze. He kisses me again, softly, barely brushing his lips against mine.
"Are you sure, Ana?" he breathes, moving his mouth across my cheek, making me shiver. "We don't have to do this just because we're in the same house now. You know that, don't you? There's no pressure, no expectations. There's so much more to us than this…"
I bring my hand up to cup his cheek, turning his eyes back to me. "I know. That's why I'm ready." He searches my gaze for a moment. I keep it steady, willing him to see my conviction. This is a whole new us, rewriting a new story together, finally getting to fully explore each other again. "If you're ready… make love to me, Christian."
He softly gasps and I feel the bulge in his pants press into my belly a little harder. He's barely touched me, but the wet heat between my legs is already impossible to ignore. I feel like a live wire, our own special alchemy swirling around us. My nipples pebble against the silk of my pajama top, and unconsciously I press against his chest, searching for friction. He closes his eyes, panting a few times, and when he opens them, there's a new fire.
He brings his hands against the backs of my thighs, lifting me and kissing me again. The kiss is different this time, insistent, almost frantic. I feel us move and he sets me gently on the bed, his eyes immediately darting downwards. He deftly undoes the first few buttons of my shirt, groaning quietly when he sees that I'm braless. I gasp as his thumb brushes against one nipple, and he dips his head down, massaging the other with his tongue. I sigh in pleasure and lay all the way back, gripping his hair as his tongue and fingers play me like a violin, surrendering to the shock waves radiating through my core.
I tip my head back when I'm on the edge, my breath coming in short pants, and the torturous, heavenly feeling subsides. "Not yet, my love. I intend for this to last," he murmurs, kissing my neck. I sigh as he moves his lips down my torso, his hands reaching up and sliding the rest of the shirt off my shoulders.
I blink open my eyes and reach down, running my hand through his hair as he kisses my belly. "You're wearing far too much, Mr. Grey." I sit up and slide back so I'm in the middle of the bed, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him back. He takes the hint and stands up. I crawl to the edge of the bed and slip my fingers under the hem of his T-shirt, trailing a finger under the waistband of his boxers, enjoying the feel of the taut muscles. That's my man. I lean down and take the elastic into my teeth, snapping it against his hip, smirking in satisfaction when he gasps. I trail kisses up the side of his body, slowly lifting the shirt off of him and tossing it aside on the floor.
The scars on his chest are silvery in the moonlight. I look up at him as I lean forward and kiss each one. "I love you," I whisper against his skin as I reach the final one.
He grabs the back of my neck, holding my head against his chest. I can feel his breathing accelerate, his chest rising and falling, his heart thudding in my ear. "Ana," he groans. "God, I love you."
He angles my head back up, kissing me hard and coaxing my mouth open. I run my hands down his chest, feeling a light sheen of sweat, and my fingers find his belt buckle. I manage to undo it, discarding it with his shirt, feeling for the button and zipper. As soon as I get them undone, I sit back on my heels and yank down, freeing his erection.
Oh, are you a sight for sore eyes.
The tip is already dewy, and I can't resist a taste. His gasp turns into a moan as I lap up the salty drops, swirling my tongue around the end, then running it along the base until my nose is tickled by his pubic hair. I take him in and out of my mouth, his hands fisted in my hair.
"Jesus, Ana," he pants. "Ah! Stop." I immediately sit back, lifting my eyes to his. His chest is heaving, mouth slack, eyes wild. "I don't want to come in your mouth for the first time. And I haven't even gotten to taste yet," he says, his voice deep and playfully scolding. The floodgates might as well have opened, and I'm pretty sure this pair of panties is done for. "I'd like to reciprocate."
"Please." I barely recognize my own voice, so wild with need.
He smiles lasciviously. "Lie back, baby." I do, and he tugs the end of my silk pajama pants, the fabric gliding easily off of me. He kicks off the rest of his pants and boxers, crawling between my legs and making me squirm as he runs his nose along the fabric of my underwear. He returns to what he was doing before I took over, kissing my lower belly, dipping his tongue into my navel. "Do you know how many times I've dreamed about this?" he murmurs against my skin. "The privilege of worshipping you? Feeling you, seeing you come apart at the seams?" I grip the sheets as he hooks his thumbs into the sides of my panties, sliding them down. "All those times I said that you belong to me. What an egotistic fool. I belong to you."
We're both completely naked now. The outside matches the inside. I sigh, overcome with emotion and sensation, all at once. "I belong to you. I do. Not because you're the only one who's had me, but because you're the only one I want to have me."
I feel his gasp rather than hear it. "Oh, Ana…" He brings his mouth down, hovering above my entrance, placing his hands on my inner thighs and gently pushing my legs even further apart so I know exactly what's next. He glances up, making eye contact. "Yes?"
He's waiting for permission. "Yes." He smirks impishly and begins to kiss and suck at my clit.
I nearly jolt right off the bed. "Christian!" I moan. He lazily runs a finger through my folds, slipping one inside and then gently biting down. "Holy shit," I gasp. "Christian!" He flicks my clit with his tongue, over and over, adding in another finger and massaging me from the inside out. I'm all sensation, building higher and higher, moaning out incoherent versions of his name.
"Let go, baby." He leans back and blows on my clit, sending me right over the edge of the cliff.
"AH!" I scream his name as I ride out my orgasm. It doesn't feel like that from a vibrator. Still pulsing, I feel his warm body, slick with sweat, pressed against mine as he gently nips at the side of my neck.
I tilt his head up, kissing him fervently, tasting the strangely erotic mixture of both of us on his lips. I can feel his painfully rigid erection pressing against my thigh, and I move my leg to give it a little tap. He groans, and I lean down and nibble on his ear.
"I need you. All of you. Please," I murmur.
He looks up at me, all the walls completely lowered. I see both frenzy and vulnerability swirling in those stormy gray skies. "Let me love you?" he quietly entreats.
"As I love you." I lean down and kiss him again, softly, and he pushes himself back up between my legs. I hold my breath in anticipation as he positions himself at my entrance, pushing the tip just through my folds. "Yes," I whisper, trying to assuage any doubts he might have.
And slowly, his eyes blazing in the low light, he slides into me, both of us moaning with every inch. I squeeze my walls around him, making him hiss in pleasure. "Holy fuck, Ana," he groans. "The way you feel… Jesus." He pulls back, thrusting forward, quicker this time. I tilt my hips forward to meet him, and he rests his forearms on either side of my head, kissing me ardently while setting the pace at a gentle, deep rhythm. I run my hands down his back, wrapping my legs around his waist, holding him to me in every way I can.
"Open your eyes," he pants. When I do, the intensity of his gaze almost pushes me over the edge again. That look. Reverent, awed, fierce. A warm, complete feeling ripples out from my chest, like pure happiness is leeching through my veins. It's so overwhelming, I feel tears leak out of the corners of my eyes. I feel rejuvenated, enchanted, cherished.
This. This is making love.
I feel myself start to build again, so I clamp down on him. "Ana, oh God, Ana," he groans.
"I love you. Let go."
The blast of heat as he does sends me right off into space, calling his name as he's calling mine. He collapses onto me, immediately rolling us over so I'm splayed across his chest. We're both breathless like we just ran a marathon, our hearts thudding against each other, synced up in the same rhythm.
I feel him arms snake around me, clinging to me. "I love you, Ana," he breathes into my hair, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for choosing me."
I kiss his chest, hitting every single scar and planting the last one right over his heart. "Thank you for letting me." And even though reality feels sweeter than a dream, we drift off in each other's arms, spent and replete.
I wake feeling… slow-roasted. It's still dark, and Christian is sprawled across me, his head resting on my chest, a leg wedged between mine, and one arm draped across my waist.
I carefully lift his arm off of me and slide out from under him. He grunts, and I quickly fill my empty spot with a pillow. I love you, but you're a million degrees. He hugs it to him and sighs. Phew. I've bought myself some time. I guess it's going to take some getting used to, sleeping next to someone again. I plant a kiss on his cheek and slip out into the hallway, retrieving his T-shirt from the floor on the way. A quick peek in on Teddy and Phoebe assures me that they are out for the count, so I head downstairs.
I move throughout the house gingerly, feeling all sorts of vaguely familiar aches, a well-used sort of soreness. We ended up waking up again not long after we dozed off and staging a repeat performance. I'm tingling all over just thinking about it… yes, very well-used.
I don't know how I thought I'd feel after being with him again, but almost to my own shock, I'm… blissful. Completely contented. Every time the fear creeps up in the back of my mind that it won't feel the same, that there will be some things we just won't be able to move on from, he proves me wrong. I'm living with the person I love, and we spent an evening shamelessly enjoying each other's bodies. Maybe it doesn't need to be more complicated than that.
I pour a glass of water and step outside, the cool night air a balm on my heated skin. The moon glancing off the water gives me a strong sense of déjà vu. How many nights did I stare at this exact same scene, feeling trapped in my own life, with no other way to manage it other than to write myself a doorway to somewhere else?
It boggles my mind to think how different everything is now. In the best way, I'm not afraid of my relationship crumbling anymore, but on the other hand, my career is at a very confusing crossroads.
I needed to do something for myself. That, I'm certain of. I was so overwhelmed by the insurmountable void of everything I thought was on the horizon… divorce, loneliness, starting over… but I hardly knew what I was getting myself into. How long could I have gone on doing what I thought I was supposed to do, going against the grain of what felt right to me just to sell an album or please the masses of people that I never thought would know me for being anything other than that guy's wife?
Even before that, I see now that I risked my whole sense of self by concealing how I felt, trying to be what everyone wanted me to be. The monumental pressure of being the perfect girl who saved Christian, the fear of not being enough, it made me completely withdraw from my relationship with him. But I'm realizing that it's the same sort of pressure on a different scale if I try to be Anastasia Steele, performer. I'm living for others. I wouldn't have chosen this on my own. And if that was unsustainable on an interpersonal level, how would I ever survive it on an international level?
It's almost painfully ironic how in trying to find a way out of one situation, I got myself into another. I don't want to spend my whole life under a microscope as fodder for gossip rags. I want to be able to leave the house and be a normal person without worrying if the wrong person will recognize me.
But writing… I know I don't want to completely give it up. There's something so indescribably and uniquely special to have others resonate with your words.
So, I have to find a new way forward.
A plan has been rolling around my brain for a few days now. If the stars align, it's possible that there is a way forward that could cater to every part of me… I'm cautiously hopeful. We'll have to see what Ezra says.
I sigh, draining the rest of the glass and putting those thoughts aside. For now, I feel pulled in a very familiar direction. I walk back inside and head into my music room, sitting at the piano and flipping through the notebook on the stand. For days, I've been struggling to resolve this one. Every melody never felt quite right. But after tonight's events… I think I've figured it out.
I scratch some things out, add edits in the margins, close my eyes and hum, and finally put the pen aside, putting my hands to the keys and feeling out the intro…
We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January
This is our place, we make the rules
And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear
Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?
Can I go where you go?
Can we always be this close?
Forever and ever, ah
Take me out, and take me home
You're my, my, my, my
Lover
I smile and flip the page, so far feeling exactly how I want it to…
We could let our friends crash in the living room
This is our place, we make the call
And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you
I've loved you some summers now, honey, but I want 'em all
Can I go where you go?
Can we always be this close?
Forever and ever, ah
Take me out, and take me home
You're my, my, my, my
Lover
I take a deep breath and feel out the melody for the bridge, going a different direction…
Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?
With every guitar string scar on my hand
I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover
My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue
All's well that ends well to end up with you
Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover
And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me
And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover
Can I go where you go?
Can we always be this close?
Forever and ever, ah
Take me out, and take me home
Forever and ever, you're my, my, my, my
Oh, you're my, my, my, my
Darling, you're my, my, my, my
Lover
I slap the book closed and punch the air in satisfaction. Perfect. One of the most significant nights of my life has just been immortalized forever, and I can return to it whenever I want and feel it all again. That's why I need this. For every chaotic, negative emotion it helps me resolve, there's a beautiful one that it can help me honor.
"Oh!" A movement out of the corner of my eye startles me. Christian is leaning against the doorway, a sleepy, utterly contented smile on his face. "Oh. Hello, lover," I tease.
I scooch over on the bench, and he walks forward, sinking down next to me. He leans in and kisses my neck, making me shiver. "May I ask how your evening was… lover?"
"I'd love to tell you, but I think you stole all of my breath. That's okay, though, you can keep it."
"My favorite souvenir… but you left," he pouts. Adorable.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't stop thinking about finishing this one… and I was sweating buckets pinned underneath you," I giggle.
"Was that for me?" he whispers, tentatively changing gears.
"I don't have any other lovers, silly." I run a hand through his hair, mussed from sleeping and… not sleeping. "I told you that it comes easier when I'm feeling a lot. And I'm feeling… the most tonight."
He drops his head down on my shoulder. "So, it's not just me," he mutters. "That should have been what our first time was like. It was…"
His voice trails off, and instead my lips find his. "Yeah. It was. And… it kinda was our first time. Ana and Christian 2.0."
He chuckles. "Well, in that case, I'm immensely enjoying the software update."
"Me too." I lean in and nip at his earlobe. "And the hardware is just as good."
He gasps and takes my notebook off the music stand, gently plopping it onto the floor. I feel my achy muscles clench in anticipation. "Did you happen to close the piano lid out of wishful thinking, Mrs. Grey?"
"I was really just trying to be quiet…" I say coyly.
"I see. Let's see how quiet you can be, then." He lifts me up and lays me back against the piano, slipping the hem of the T-shirt up… oh, God, round three.
A/N: I've obviously never written anything like that before (first time writing anything, duh). So, feedback appreciated if you have experience reading/writing sex scenes!
The song Ana wrote is the title song (Lover) from Taylor Swift's album called Lover. It's a really sweet song, definitely worth a listen, and I thought it was probably time we got a love song in here. What do you think her plan for the future could be?
Thanks for all your thoughts last chapter, and please do share them again!