Chapter 5

They had a long drive ahead of them the morning they left Cashel. A two and a half hour drive, alone together. Just the two of them. And things had ended uncomfortably the night before in more ways than one; the main reason though, was the recent memory of Ana's legs around Christian's waist.

As they seated themselves at breakfast the morning before their long drive, they were polite and friendly, but not their usual selves. As Christian buttered his toast, Ana lifted her bacon onto his plate as she did every morning. They had a system, and regardless of the sexual tension that suffocated them, they were comfortable.

"Mind if we sit here?"

Ana lifted her head to find a tall brunette woman standing next to Christian, and a slightly shorter, blonde man to the woman's right.

Christian smiled and moved his plate towards himself, gesturing for the couple to sit with them for breakfast. Denise and Ben were a kind British couple from South-West London, and within three minutes of conversation on bubbly Denise's part, Christian and Ana knew more about Ben and Denise than they did about Boyce Fox.

"So how long have you two been married?" Christian asked pleasantly.

Denise gushed. "Almost three years. What about you two?"

They had paid for separate rooms; there was no reason to lie. But as Christian was about to jump in and tell the couple that they were just colleagues, Christian beat him to it.

"We're on our honeymoon..." Ana shared with a gentle smile that just beamed with rehearsed pride.

"Oh, honeymoon!" Denise exclaimed exaggeratedly. "Are you going to start trying for a family?"

"Not yet..." Ana declared hopefully, and Christian sat back, orange juice in hand as he observed the spectacle his ex-girlfriend was creating.

She seemed very, very comfortable. It had been obvious in the past that Ana had been infatuated with the idea of marriage and safety, but Christian had assumed she was moving on from that now. She still refused to eat dairy and she was as organised as ever. But she seemed to have relaxed after four months of therapy and medication. She wasn't scrubbing each surface down with a toothbrush, and she didn't seem to be having trouble sleeping in a strange bed each night. Where was this coming from?

"Well at least you get the practice in, right? No better opportunity than a honeymoon!" Ben laughed as he nudged Christian.

Christian reached for Ana's hand. "Right!"

XXXX

"So I have to kiss it? After everyone else has?" asked Ana, her lips pursed in concentration.

"Ana, it's tradition." Ana drew in a deep breath, but Christian didn't hear her let it out. "Look, Ana. We've come all the way across the world to get here. Were at the Blarney Castle, and I think you're really going to regret it later on if you don't kiss the stone."

Ana stood for a long while, watching the tourists bend down on all fours, roll over onto their backs, and inch their way towards the wall of the castle. Her eyes widened as an Irish assistant held a young boy, dangling his neck over the side of the castle to reach the protruding wall. There was a drop between the edge of the castle and the outer rim which the stone decorated.

Ana considered the value of the experience as she examined each tourist take their turn. She'd have to get down on her hands and knees upon an old blanket. She'd grip the bars which dangled over the side of the building and pull herself towards the stone, all while the elderly Irishman who acted as assistant would hold her for the safety's sake. And then she'd kiss the rock. Ana shuddered involuntarily.

But Christian looked so excited. He hadn't stopped talking about the castle and the stone and the legend ever since they'd boarded the darn plane.

"Christian."

He pivoted on the line, eager for his turn. "Yeah?"

Ana swallowed harshly. "I don't want him to touch me."

"Ana, it's totally fine. Look, he's really nice."

She shook her head, a lump forming in her throat as they stepped up closer in the line. "Christian, I can't."

She could dangle her upper body over a medieval castle and kiss a dirty old rock in exchange for Christian's happiness. But she would absolutely not let a stranger hold her.

He nodded and stepped over to the man when it was his turn. He quietly shared Ana's request with the Irishman, who looked up to Ana with a smile and nod.

"I'll go first, Ana...show you how easy it is."

Christian laid down on the blanket, and Ana was almost so caught up in cringing at the thought of his white t-shirt getting dirty that she almost missed it.

There, on Christian Grey's lower back, was a tattoo. A dark, mysterious word that Ana couldn't read in the single second it took her best friend to roll over and bring himself to the edge of the castle.

He was strong, his biceps flexing as he drew his body out far and placed a sweet kiss on the face of the legendary rock.

She took photos for him, keeping the other eye open in the hope of catching another glimpse of his tattoo.

When it was Ana's turn, the man moved out of the way. Christian knelt beside her, whispering words of encouragement as Ana rolled onto her back and scooted towards the edge of the castle.

Christian's palm was warm on Ana's abdomen as he guided her neck over the edge with a strong hand. Looking up to the sky, she blocked out the thought of the ground so far below and craned her neck.

"I've got you." Christian chuckled as she scooted herself closer to reach the stone with her face. "Ana, kiss the stone."

And she did.

Her mind was free of germy thoughts as Christian held her, and pressing her eyes closed, she kissed the rock. The only thing that Ana could think was that Christian had a tattoo; and she had never known. Why would she know that? How come she had never seen it?

At the base of the castle, they had lunch in the Blarney Stone Pub. It was well after lunch time, and so the cosy restaurant was very quiet, much to the liking of Christian and Ana.

Later, they walked the grounds, the scenery reminding Ana of a scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Stepping beside Christian, in the gorgeous surrounds of Blarney Castle, Ana felt real and pure. All her problems seemed not to be relevant issues when they were alone. Christian accepted her completely, and she didn't have to worry about anybody else's opinion. They were just Christian and Ana, and they could have been anything else they wanted to be.

She wanted to hold his hand as they walked, for things to be different. Ireland was romantic and lonely, and sharing Christian's company so wholly and intimately was like a tease to Ana. They walked along sandstone paths and lush green grass, and for the long hours they spend wandering the fields, Ana felt perfect.

They spoke and listened to each other for close to an hour, and then Christian seemed to stop sharing his thoughts. It was as though he had lost the ability to speak, and when he stared across the landscape they grew to appreciate each passing moment, Ana once again discovered that he was undeniably sexy. His profile was like no other she had ever seen. And those eyes. He was passionate, and she wanted to give herself to him in more ways than one. Yet, each time she considered making a move, her throat closed up and she felt a rush of dread run through her body.

Was she anxious? Was she crazy? Was she tired?

Christian sat down toward the end of the windy trail, and Ana wondered for a passing second if he wanted to be left alone. He hadn't muttered a single word for close to half an hour of just walking, and that was unusual for a vibrant character such as Christian's.

The breeze had settled, making the cold more enjoyable than it was at the highest point of Blarney Castle they had ventured to.

"It's so nice to not be rushed on this trip. To be able to just sit and take things in," Ana shared softly, counting to ten to regulate her breathing. Sitting on grass was not her favourite pastime. It seemed clean, though. And Christian seemed so in tune with everything around him.

"It's perfect, really," he agreed with a sigh. "I'm just going to close my eyes for a second."

"I'll be here," Ana whispered, bringing her jean-clad knees to her chin as Christian stretched his body out along the grass.

Christian smirked, crossing his hands behind his head. "I know."

The second for which Christian closed his eyes turned into twenty minutes. Ana didn't mind. They had nowhere else to be.

Ana watched Christian; she examined the lines on his face and imagined what it would be like to touch them- to really trace his worries. His skin was soft, Ana remembered from the week before. His cheek against hers had felt warm and smooth as their hips pressed together against her open doorframe. When they returned to Seattle such moments would never exist, Ana was sure of it. He was passionate in Ireland, because he was so inspired.

His eyelids fluttered a few times, and not wanting to be caught staring, Ana searched for a distraction. Beside the single backpack they carried with them each day, Christian had rested his camera on the grass.

When the shutter beeped as Ana turned the camera on, she cringed, hating the thought of waking Christian. Hopefully he could have a rest; he'd been driving each day and must be tired. There weren't many places to go in Seattle and the travelling must have been as tiring on him as it was on Ana.

She scrolled through the photos on the screen. A few of the grounds of the castle. Back to Blarney Castle. She flicked back on the touch screen. A photo of Ana getting into the car. The faint rainbow that had arched over the lone graveyard on the road to Blarney. Ana speaking to the hostess at the accommodation in Cashel. The breakfast room at Cashel. Ana walking in front of Christian the night they had fought. A few shots of the main street of Cashel. A lake. Ana at Rock of Cashel. A few photos of Christian at the Rock of Cashel. The grounds of Rock of Cashel. Ana standing by a window. She continued to scroll and scroll. There were no more scenic photos for over two dozen slides. Just Ana, all around the rooms of the ancient Cathedral that sat high above Cashel. You could barely tell where they were. Close ups, long shots. It didn't matter. Christian had adjusted the focus to solely recognise Ana, the background completely distorted.

XXXX

When they arrived at the Bed and Breakfast in Blarney that night, it was late. They had gone to dinner together in the heart of Blarney, and by the time they signed in that night, the reception lights were out. Figuring they had slept apart for the last two nights, Christian took their suitcases to the same room.

The room was hot and tiny, and Christian couldn't get the window to budge open. The thermostat seemed to have been turned on all day, and although it no longer hummed the heat bounced from the four walls of the small room.

Christian tossed and turned. Ana tried not to move for the first twenty minutes, but the heat was too much and she couldn't handle the sweat between her breasts. After a while, Ana peeled the covers back slightly, and Christian found relief in the only coolness they could control.

"You have a tramp stamp," Ana whispered as they lay awake together in the darkness of night.

Christian chuckled. "Yeah."

Ana rolled onto her side, resting her warm cheek on her palm as her elbow pressed into her pillow.

"What...umm...What is it?" she whispered.

Christian rolled onto his stomach slowly, lifting the back of his t-shirt.

Ana could barely make out the print in the darkness, but it appeared to be a trail of bold letters forming a word. She blatantly stared.

"It's really, really stupid," Christian mumbled.

Ana smiled, curiosity gnawing at her mind. "Tell me."

"I feel the need to make something up," Christian confided, the smile on his lips ringing through his tone. "When I was in my first year of college, I had this buddy who was Greek. He took Greek classes and I took Spanish. Anyway, one night we were really drunk and decided to make a bet to see who could..."

"Who could what?" Ana prompted.

"I don't want to offend you," Christian murmured softly. He cared, and she respected him for it.

"You won't."

Christian shifted closer to Ana, his shirt sliding its way further up his body as he slid upon the mattress. "Well, I was a virgin," he admitted in a whisper, as though the couple in the next room could hear them; lying awake, late at night, sharing secrets.

"It's okay, Christian." Ana breathed. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his chin. "I don't mind. "Go on..."

"Well, we were young and stupid and trying to prove ourselves," Christian started. "And so we made a bet that whoever lost their virginity last had to get a tattoo in the language the winner studied."

"You lost?" Ana guessed with a grin.

Christian shrugged, his elbows digging deeper into the mattress as he propped up his upper body to tell the story. "I was trying to look cool, but I knew as soon as I bet my virginity that I would lose. But I didn't really loose in the end." Ana turned her head to face Christian, gauging his relaxed expression. "I'd rather get a tattoo than cheat or sleep with someone just for the sake of a stupid bet."

Her heart soared as she listened.

"I went and got it right away- the morning after we made the bet," Christian whispered. "I didn't tell him that I got it, but I knew he would win, because I just wasn't ready." Ana's chest hammered. She knew the feeling he described all too well. "As shallow as the whole thing seems, I'm kind of proud of it. It's a constant reminder that I did the right thing."

"But what does it say?" She whispered.

"Well, in keeping with the nature of the bet, George, my buddy, decided what it would read..." Ana raised an eyebrow.

He contemplated whether to share the truth with her. Yes. She wasn't a China Doll. She was a grown woman. He could be blunt with her.

"It says 'fuck'." He coughed. "In Greek."

The curse word brought a blush to her cheeks, and she kicked at the covers to cool her lower body.

When she stilled, she rested on her side again, facing him. He watched her, met her gaze that whispered of her confusion and empowerment. Gratitude for his honesty. Lust for his warmth.

He shifted, and her eyes fell from his down to the exposed tattoo on his bare skin.

Christian watched Ana's eyelids flicker. She licked her lips.

Christian reached out slowly, tentative and cautious; at the first brush of her fingernails against his skin, Christian felt his body flush with arousal. She traced the lines of each letter ever so gently, and Christian's mind went foggy. She was gorgeous, alluring, and it was so darn hot.

She scratched his skin softly, raking her fingernails across print, the taut flesh of Christian's lower back. Goosebumps erupted on Christian's skin. Her gentle touch drove him wild, and he couldn't help but arch his back and press his hips into the mattress.

Ana didn't seem to notice, and her fingertips continued to caress his skin.

"I like it," she breathed heavily. He could taste her breath.

"It's crude," Christian muttered, shaking his head in disagreement with Ana.

"No," she declared. "I would never have expected you to have a tattoo that said such a word." She flattened her palm upon his tattoo. "You're such a gentleman...it's astonishing."

He held back a moan at the pressure of her hand upon his skin. "Gentlemen aren't necessarily innocent," he suggested, his voice huskier than she had ever heard it.

"Mr Grey," Ana giggled. "What are you trying to say?"

She held her hand tighter against him, and he sensed her desperation to hold on to such a flirtatious moment. They rarely let themselves flirt, but this was more. Her fingernails pressed into his lower back as her fingers slipped slightly. This was need; she was finally asking for something. "I'm trying to say that I'm...I'm not as perfect as you think I am," he whispered.

She shifted closer. "Neither am I."

He rolled onto his side to face her, and Ana's hand slipped from his back. Her fingers rested in the juncture between his ribs and hip. She could feel his pulse.

"This is good," he rested his head on his palm, mirroring her pose. "We're getting somewhere..."

She held her bottom lip between her teeth and tried to hide a smirk. Was she hot and bothered? Christian wondered. He wanted more; her thoughts and worries. He wanted to see more; her tight, petite, naked body. He wanted to hear more; sounds she'd probably never made. "I guess we are," she flirted playfully.

"Anything else you'd like to share?" Christian pressed.

Her bottom lip popped out, wet and pink. "Well, I guess we have a whole lot to share."

She felt dizzy. He felt desirable.

"You're not as innocent as you pretend to be, are you?" Christian queried, his deep expression causing her heart to pound.

"No," she confessed. "I'm an expert at deflection." Ana exhaled, wiping her hand from his waist and setting it upon the mattress in the small space between their bodies. "It's tiring."

He wanted more. She wanted more. Neither of them sought to talk about her OCD. Her issues, his issues. They were past that. Neither of them had ever loved so deeply. But the subject had changed. The remaining barrier between them was the subject of intimacy.

Christian swallowed. "I bet you've never said the word that's tattooed to my body."

Yes, Christian. Push me further. Encourage me. Want me.

"I have. Once. In college," Ana admitted. "It tasted vulgar on my tongue...I felt guilty."

"The same way you feel when you're intimate with someone?" he challenged.

In two minutes he had done more work than her therapist.

"I don't know if I'm ready to work through these-"

"You are. I'm telling you that you are because you know it," Christian whispered so calmly. "You aren't doing anything wrong when you're intimate with someone you care for. You're not disrespecting yourself, Ana."

Ana looked down to the corner of his pillow. He couldn't possibly be any closer without their chests touching. "Are you talking about us?" she questioned with hesitance.

"Yes," he answered truthfully. "I don't want to get frisky, just yet." The way he said 'just yet' sent a shiver down her spine. "But we both know that it's going to happen, don't we?"His tone was softly certain and it comforted her; made up for her own hesitance.

"That we're going to end up together?" she asked, searching for encouragement.

"Yes," he nodded surely. "I want to go to bed with you Ana." Her eyes widened in the darkness and she felt her body flush with a welcomed heat. "In a bed just like this one." His hand covered hers upon the mattress, their fingers slipping against each others. "But the last thing we're going to be thinking about is sleeping," Christian breathed and Ana's eyelids slipped shut. Not yet, her mind reasoned. Touch me, her pulse pleaded. "And I know that soon, you're going to come out of your shell and tell me you want the same thing."

Ana's form flushed with understanding.

Christian hung his head low. He was giving her time, trying his hardest to be patient. "Try to say it," he requested.

Ana shook her head, her forehead almost resting upon his. Temperature was everything; her nightgown was the thinner of the three she had brought along on the trip. His body was warm, her panties were damp. "Christian, I'm not ready..."

"Not that." He shook his head, raising his gaze. "I want you to read my tattoo...in English."

She focused her eyes upon him. "Why?"

"It's a step forward, and I think you need to take it."

She wanted to allow them to move forward. But if she took this step, she was promising to continue. If the vulgar word slipped from her lips, it would possess more power than a curse.

"Good night, Christian."

He smiled. "Is it because Jesus is watching again?"

Ana laughed. "You know, it's a very funny thing that I won this trip through my church."

"Why is that?" asked Christian.

Ana sighed quietly, a weight seeming to lift from her shoulders. "Because before that Sunday when I entered the raffle, I hadn't stepped inside a church for over nine years."

"And you won," Christian smiled, his eyes expressing recognition of her perspective.

"And I won."

XXXX

For the three days after leaving Blarney, they visited the seaside town of Cobh and later Killarney, and ended up sharing a bed together both nights. The season was picking up with visitors and finding a room was few and far between. They had become accustomed to living together so closely, and Ana couldn't help but admit to herself that she felt safer with Christian resting beside her.

When the third night rolled around, they were exhausted from their drive to Shannon on the west coast of Southern Ireland. It had rained for the entire drive until they stopped at a lonely pit stop in the side of the road. When Christian called under a false name to see if vacancies were available, he was actually relieved that there were. The night before, he had rolled over in bed and snuggled Ana up in his arms in his sleep. When they had woken that morning, it had been slightly awkward to find themselves pressed together so closely. Christian's palm had unconsciously rested upon the curve of Ana's breast throughout the night, and although the sensation had been warm and comforting, when she felt his unconscious arousal, she had stiffened in his arms. Ana had been very quiet at breakfast that morning, and so finding out they had separate rooms was a welcomed relief.

The tension in the car had been lighter when he got back to tell her they wouldn't be sleeping together that night. She had begun to laugh at little things he said and at one point, she even sang along with a song on the radio as they headed towards their accommodation.

And then the GPS died.

It was cold. Gray clouds rolled over head as Ana waited in the car, the dashboard heater wasting more petrol than that day's drive to Shannon. Christian had the map spread out across the front of the car, holding the edges down as the ruthless wind pulled it from the flat surface. Ana watched his brow crease in confusion. He was cute. Adorable. Loyal.

The wind was cool on Ana's cheeks as she opened the passenger door.

"Christian, do you need some help?" Ana asked as she stepped next to him.

"No," he barked quietly, not gazing up from the map.

"Okay, don't get snappy with me..."

"I'm not." He sighed, leaning over the map and tracing his index finger across a purple line. "I'm frustrated."

"Okay, take some deep breaths," Ana soothed.

Christian clicked his tongue. "Ana, maybe you should just wait in the car. I need to figure this out."

She bent over the dashboard, leaning against him and pressing their shoulders together gently. "Hey, don't push me away."

Christian straightened his back. "Why not? You do the same thing."

Ana swallowed harshly, the colour draining from her face. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," she muttered.

Christian sighed, meeting her stare for a fleeting moment. Her eyes were warm, but they were dark with regret and promise.

He stepped aside as Ana mumbled her forgiving offer. "Let me look at it."

Ana never did figure the map out instantly as Christian was afraid she would. He wanted to be the one to save them and get them off the back road and to where they needed to be. Eventually, they worked it out together.

"I've stopped trying to push you away." She muttered when they got into the car.

"Thank you."

Ana rested her head against the cold window and sighed.

"I'm tired, Christian."

Ana went straight to her room when they arrived, opting to skip dinner. Christian offered to bring her something from the kitchen when he was finished eating, but Ana thanked him with a tired smile, and let him drag her suitcase up to her room.

XXXX

"I need you to do something for me." Ana slurred, wobbling into Christian's room.

Christian had only gotten back from dinner close to half an hour before, and hadn't bothered to say goodnight as he figured Ana would have gone to bed immediately.

Apparently not.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you drunk?"

She shook her head, almost tripping over Christian's opened suitcase on the floor before she fell to sit on his bed. "Umm...yeah a little." He closed the suitcase as he watched her rearrange her seated position on his bed. "Remember that married couple we had breakfast with at that place...that Cashel?" Christian nodded and Ana blinked more than once before she continued. "They're here too and they saw our names on the booking sheet. They left a bottle of wine outside my door. I guess they assumed it was our door."

Christian leant against the closed door and shyly looked down to his bare feet. "Because you told them it's our honeymoon?"

"Yep." Her expression sobered for a moment, adopting a serious gaze. "I think they think we're havin' sex."

He grinned, casting a glance her way. "I think you're right." Her hair was a mess; she had removed his oversized sweater she had borrowed for their car trip. He tried to look away; her white singlet revealed too much. Her bra was gone; her nipples were pink through the thin fabric. She was drunk, loose, almost his. "Did you need something, Ana?"

Ana sighed dramatically and lifted her palm to show him what she held in her grasp.

In her hand was the same marker she had used to label their toiletries into a gazillion bags.

"I need you to write on me," she explained.

His features contorted in utter confusion. "What?"

"I need like a tattoo, but I can't handle the thought of infections and the grossosity...grossity...grossness of ink draining into my blood, so this is the closest thing."

Christian sighed and sat beside her on the mattress. "Ana, it was a stupid bet I made in college."

Before he could finish the sentence, Ana was up on her feet. Without her boots, she was a head shorter than him.

But Ana, in her intoxicated state, felt incredibly tall and confident.

And so, when she lifted her thin singlet up to her breasts and stepped towards Christian, his breath caught in his throat.

At eyelevel with her covered chest, her naked belly begged for his attention as she stepped closer. His knees fell apart without permission, and suddenly, Ana was standing between his pyjama-clad legs.

"I think it would be a good idea if you wrote in Gaelic, because we're in Ireland," Ana suggested in a contemplative tone.

Christian allowed his eyes to slip closed for a brief moment. God, her pale skin looked so soft. He just wanted to kiss her slim waist, run his tongue along her cute little belly-button. Christ. He wanted to taste her body. He opened his eyes, glaring at her semi-naked stomach. "Why are you doing this? Ana, you're drunk. It may not scrub off for days. It's a permanent marker-"

"I need to get this done before I lose my virginity," Ana interrupted, looking down to seek his understanding. "Just like you did."

He raised his eyes to meet her gaze and sighed. It would probably be gone by tomorrow. He'd give in and take her back to her room. "What do you want me to write?"

'Buille an leathair,' Ana mispronounced.

Christian tilted his head. "What does that mean?"

"What your tattoo says..." she whispered.

Christian swallowed harshly. For a drunk, Ana was insightfully romantic. "This is silly." She only stepped closer between his knees, and he pulled back. She was insistent. He had to give in to her. "You're going to have to spell it for me."

She spelt the Gaelic phrase, and Christian listened as he traced each letter onto her perfect skin with the back felt tip marker.

She closed her eyes and sighed, and Ana listened as her breath hitched. She was so drunk, and he could smell the wine on her breath. But she was enjoying the sensation of the soft tip against her flesh.

It was erotic and decent. He loved her, and he was aroused. She wanted him to mark her, just as he was marked.

Christian wrote on Ana, and as she hummed his name when he painted the final letters, she drew thicker circles upon his heart.

No one person could ever erase Ana's marking on Christian's heart, but the lines he drew on her paled in comparison to her ever-evolving circles. A trap, and he was her prisoner. By morning, his art would wash away as she meticulously scrubbed to erase black ink.

His palm on her belly was warm. His breath on her belly was scorching. He felt her soft skin, appreciated the way it dipped slightly under the gentle pressure of the pen. He wrote below her belly button, and at the final press of the marker, Ana felt the heat between her legs sting.

When he finished, he placed his hands on her jean clad hips and only had one question.

"Why, Ana?" he whispered as he looked down to the marker between his fingers. An artist's instrument.

Her hands fell to Christian's shoulders as the cap of the pen clicked locked. "Because I have a feeling I'm not going to be a virgin for much longer."

AN: Thank you to all who have reviewed the last few chapters. They mean the world to me.