A/N:
Ready for an experiment? Then come join me collecting snippets of our favorite couple's lives and their backstory.
I got challenged to write some sort of micro fiction about Christian and Ana and it was a text from Christian that I came up with. For FanFiction I've decided to add a backstory to provide further context.
M for mature content, including the Red Room (SSC). There may be updates but only few and far between.
Let me know what you think. As always, your feedback is much appreciated.
Fifty Texts of Grey
by
Ava LeBeau
.
Go into my office
Sit behind my desk
Make yourself come now
You have two minutes
Waiting in the Red Room
Come join me there
C
.
I know now, why you want me to wear skirts.
My heart is racing with anticipation while I fumble with the zipper of my jeans.
The atmosphere in your office is serene, the view breathtaking.
I slide into the seat of the office chair behind your spacious desk, biting my lip when the cold leather hits the back of my thighs.
My eyelids flutter shut as I lean back ever so slightly, my hand on my stomach now, inching south.
Only two minutes.
That's what you message says.
So, two minutes is all I have.
My eyes dart to the tasteful desk clock that I've never really noticed before. Your sense for exquisite aesthetics complementing your expensive taste never ceases to amaze me.
You.
A soft moan escapes my lips while I press the the pads of my fingertips against my clit, moving on to draw small circles, again and again. Faster.
One minute and twenty seconds...
My breathing's becoming labored.
One minute left.
Tick-tock.
Not that I'm complaining, but I'm already sure you're gonna punish me 'cause I'll overrun the time permitted.
A chuckle forms deep in my throat at the mere thought.
Focus, Ana. Focus.
Even the faintest idea of what's about to come almost too much to bear, I grasp the hem of my T-shirt with my free hand, my knuckles turning white while that tingling sensation washes over me, one last fleeting touch pushing me over the edge.
Brushing a strand of hair out of my flushed face I stumble towards the door, my knees almost giving out under me.
Late. I'm gonna be late. Too late.
When I enter the living room I try to steady my breathing, try to smooth down my wrinkled shirt.
I'm sure you're relishing in the fact that I'm utterly embarrassed, afraid to bump into Taylor or Gail, your housekeeper, on my way upstairs.
In front of my inner eye I can see that corner of your mouth twitching with blatant pleasure.
Hurry, Ana.
I can't wait to see you.
It feels like it is a thousand cantilevered steps that are keeping me from you.
I reach the door, stand still for the blink of an eye.
Breathe, Ana.
I try to calm down, eager not to give away just how much I have missed you, how much I yearn to feel you touch, your all.
My heart is throbbing with joy when I open the door and there you are, bare feet, clad in "those" jeans, your strong arms folded in front of your bare chest you're standing by on of the cabinets that are holding parts of your vast collection of toys, designed to exacerbate the salaciousness of all this in the most delectable ways.
You arch your eyebrow when our gazes meet, pat your wrist watch with your index while I close the door behind me.
I bat my lashes, lower my gaze, acting all coy. Who am I fooling here?
You close the distance between us and I can smell your expensive cologne now that you're standing right in front of me.
You're quick to strip me out of my crumpled top, making sure that your palms brush across my now bared breasts, your every move ever so excruciatingly slow, the tender touch eliciting the faintest of moans. You disdainful look almost too much for me.
I daren't look up at you again and close my eyes, focusing on my breathing for now.
You tilt my chin up. Your bright gray gaze perusing me you while you take my hand and lift it up to your lips.
You press a kiss to my palm, kiss each of my fingertips, still holding my gaze.
Your relentless stare is making me quiver.
And when you suck the tips of my index and middle finger into your mouth I know that you can taste me there.
I can't help but bite my lower lip and it isn't long before you punish me for this lapse.
You take me over the knee, like you always do, impatiently yanking down my panties to bare my butt and run your palm across it.
And while you seem to take aim I brace myself.
I wish you would talk to me but lately you seem preoccupied when we're in the Red Room.
You don't make love, you say.
You claim you fuck. Hard.
But I don't believe you. Not anymore.
Your palm rests on my butt cheek for a moment.
Surely, you're contemplating the next step. Another spank or take this over to the saltire.
The spanking hasn't satisfied you, that much I can tell.
"Stand!"
There's nothing tender in your command, issued so abruptly, and I do as I'm told.
You pull me closer, your hands now on my hips, I know where you are guiding me and smile.
When you notice you square your jaw, your mouth set in a hard line.
But it's your eyes that give you away, lit up the moment I smiled.
"You're mine," you state.
That I am, indeed.
I look away, hear your breaths quicken.
"Say it," you demand, firmly, authoritatively.
I look up at you, trying to keep my face neutral. What I would give to kiss you now.
"Ana..."
"I'm yours," a defiant look.
You stop and your lower lip juts forward ever so slightly and you let out a husky chuckle, your gray gaze now fixated on my pout
I suppose you want to kiss me just as much as I do.
A surprised gasp masks the exasperated moan that has formed deep in my throat when the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed.
Your strong arms guide me as I fall onto the soft mattress.
I hate you for taking your sweet time to unbutton that jeans, press my lips together to stifle yet another moan, your unrelenting stare driving me wild.
Spreading my legs to accommodate you I can't help but whimper when your hungry lips crash down on mine, I'm welcoming the firmness of your chest pressed against my torso.
Your weight is pinning me down even though your elbows and forearms are planted on either side of my head, your strong hands grasping the silken sheets beneath me as you enter me with one long, demanding move.
I cup your face with my hands, my lips searching yours again, all this so very much against the rules but all you do is groan against my pout and I wonder if your resolve is crumbling just like mine.
There is no denying that it isn't long before you come undone.
Drunk on your kisses I close my eyes and nuzzle your neck, my breath hitching as I'm about to come.
Can't get enough...