Author's note: Thanks to sillie j, for pointing out my mistake in the previous chapter.

This one for anisurnois (in case you haven't worked it out by now; my favorite FSoG author), who is apparently citrus deficient right now. And for Louisvuittonfreak, who always remembers to let me know when I've done well.

Chapter Twenty-five

After first pushing Ana's chair in as she sits, driving her crazy with a well-placed kiss where her shoulder meets her neck, Christian pours them a glass each of the non-alcoholic wine and his eyes are twinkling with mirth as he offers the toast, "To a green light."

Ana giggles and touches her glass to his, saying, "Amen."

Eying his glass, Christian muses, "This one's not bad for pretend wine."

They've discussed it, but Ana tries again. "You know that the father doesn't actually have to abstain, right?"

"I know. But there's so much you're going through that I cannot share; avoiding booze is something I can." With a shrug, he continues, "Still making up for the last time I drank, anyway."

Concerned that he still feels guilty for panicking on the night she told him about the baby, Ana decides to ignore it and brightly says, "You've gotta be happy right now."

Dispelling his melancholy with a ready smile, Christian says, "As a matter of fact, I am. But why do I feel that you have a specific reason in mind?"

"Because you're clever. It occurs to me that his pregnant wife at home every day is almost a perfect scenario for an expecting Dom."

Unashamedly beaming at the idea, Christian says, "Yes, that occurred to me, too." More serious now, he continues, "Thank you, for being sensible about this. I'd rather keep my promise about not interfering with your career, but it's clearly become impractical for you to go into the office every day; at least for now. And it'll be easier getting through my day knowing that you and Little Blip are safe. Do you need anything to work from home?"

"Nothing that I can't manage by myself, thank you. David understands and has freed up Hannah for errands. Oh, can we spare someone to keep her safe between here and my office? She'll have to daily run the gauntlet of reporters camped outside here and GP."

"That's a good idea." Taking his phone out, Christian adds, "If you'll excuse me, I'll take care of that now." After tapping away at his phone for a while, he then announces, "One rent-a-cop will be assigned to your assistant from tomorrow morning. If that's not enough to keep her unmolested, let Taylor know and he'll put one of our team on it."

"Thank you."

They then hear the sound of Gail approaching, wheeling the mobile butler with their dinner. Leaping up to meet her at the door, Christian says, "Thanks. I'll take it from here."

"Of course, sir. Just let me know when you want me to clear." In a knowing tone, Gail adds, "Enjoy your evening."

Her cheeky blessing is enough to redden Christian's ears as he serves, and Ana asks, "Something you want to tell me?"

An adamant, "No," but then Christian shrugs and says, "I, uh, was riding the wave of euphoria earlier and mentioned that this is date night." When Ana claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her reaction, he growls a warning, but it soon dissolves into a smile, which becomes mutual laughter as they both give vent to the frustrations of the past few months.

Finally, calming down enough to speak, Ana says, "I'm sorry. But 'Christian Grey' and 'date night' are not words that I ever expected to go together."

Finishing serving their dinner, Christian is still smiling slightly as he says, "Me, neither." Suddenly capturing Ana's chin in his hand, he angles her face up for a long, passionate kiss, then releases her and sits down as he says, "Can't pretend to be disappointed though. You continue to rock my world on an almost daily basis. Thank you."

Giddy from the laughing fit and his kiss, Ana is glad she's sitting down. "Uh, you're welcome. And, back at you, Grey. I almost can't remember who I was when I met you."

"Perhaps I really should bring your dreary old clothes here? Then you can reminisce how awful you dressed that first day."

Not very upset, Ana protests, "I'll have you know, that was my best skirt…actually, that was my only skirt."

His eyes bright with good humor, Christian grimaces and pronounces, "It was hideous; the sweater was worse, though I think those mannish boots really dragged the whole ensemble down."

Smiling, despite his words, because she knows that he's right, Ana counters, "Well, something must have worked. I'm still here."

"Yes, you are." Then inclining his head a little, Christian extends his hand and says, "Until we meet again, Miss Steele."

Putting her hand in his, Ana is also reliving that first day when she says, "Mr. Grey."

Holding her hand for a while, gently in his, Christian then says, "Do you think it will always do that?" At Ana's confusion, he looks at their joined hands, teasing tendrils of pleasure across the back of her hand with his thumb as he ponders, "That…it's like electricity. I wonder if it will always be there, or such things fade over time." Looking up to see tears in her eyes, he's immediately by her side, one comforting arm around her shoulders, asking, "Hey, what's wrong?"

Struggling not to break down completely, Ana exclaims, "Fucking hormones!" Drying her eyes on the still clean napkin, she calms down enough to say, "I didn't know you felt it, too."

Relaxing at these words, Christian tenderly kisses her and says, "Well, I sure as fuck didn't fall for your dress sense. Yes, I felt it, too. Though I didn't know, at the time, that it meant I was already in love with you." With one last kiss, he then sits down as he instructs, "Eat. We've got twenty-six days of fucking to catch up on."

Again in command of her wayward emotions, Ana says, "But we don't have to do so in one night, darling."

Grinning from ear to ear, Christian then says, "No time like the present, Mrs. Grey."

After an admittedly modest and hurried dinner, Christian texts Gail that she can clear, even as he and Ana walk hand in hand to their bedroom. Once there, they're almost shy as they brush their teeth, side by side. Suddenly realizing that it's not just her, Ana asks, "Why are you nervous?"

A shadow of fear passes across Christian's face, confirming her theory, and he finishes up, wiping his mouth and leaning his butt against the counter, both hands gripping the edge as he says, "I want to try something new."

Wondering what it could possibly be, given that they've fucked in so many different ways, Ana feels a stirring of excited fear, deep in her belly, and asks, "Oh?"

"Yes. I'm…" Taking a deep breath, he shakes his head, his voice barely audible as he says, "I don't want to hurt you."

Moving to stand in front of him, her hands resting on his chest, Ana says, "Hey, you won't. I really am fine."

Still nervous enough that he doesn't put his arms around her, Christian reveals, "I want you to restrain me."

Too shocked to at first understand, Ana just stares at him for a few seconds and then says, "Like tie you up?"

Christian smiles a little at her confusion and says, "A lot like that, though I'd rather you use the quick release handcuffs, so I don't freak out too much."

Still struggling to understand, even as some small part of her thrills at the idea, Ana says, "Well…why?"

Now relaxed enough to at least casually rest his hands on her hips, Christian says, "A few reasons. First, I think you'll enjoy it, once you realize I'm okay. And, I'm still worried that I'll get carried away and harm you. The theme of my nightmares lately has been distinctly unpleasant. Being restrained will ensure that we proceed at your pace. Lastly, it's time I get over this fear, and you're the one to help me."

Christian has stubbornly refused to share the images that have woken him in a cold sweat recently, but she'd guessed it's something pretty horrendous involving her brain surgery. She'd let it go, on the understanding that he discuss it in therapy. "What does Flynn say?"

Christian smiles and says, "That as I'm about to orgasm shouldn't be the first time I choose to be restrained. So we've been practicing."

Shaking her head in confusion, Ana says, "Flynn's been handcuffing you?"

Shocked by his sudden laughter, she recognizes it as a good thing, and then Christian says, "Oh, you're wonderful. No, baby. I took some cuffs to the last session and put them on while we talked; lasted the entire hour, too."

Ana considers for a moment and then says, "I'm okay to try this, if that's what you want. But I don't like that you think you'll get carried away enough to hurt me, because I know you won't. If I asked you to stop, you'd do so immediately."

His tone slightly reprimanding, Christian says, "Yes, if you ask."

"Oh." Smiling, even as she feels a little guilty, Ana says, "Yes, you're probably right. After so long without you inside me, I'd almost certainly want you to keep on going, even if I'm in pain." Suddenly brightening, she add, "All right, Grey, you're on. Where are the handcuffs?"

Putting his lips by her ear, Christian whispers "Under your pillow," then nips her earlobe.

The exquisite pleasure of that simple gesture shooting straight to her groin, Ana groans and says, "Yeah, I doubt I'd stop you even if my brain fell out." When Christian tenses, she has an answer as to the theme of his nightmares, so she promises, "No brain jokes. Got it."

With a weak smile, Christian says, "Thank you." Then gesturing that she should precede him, he adds, "You're in charge, Mrs. Grey."

Surprised he hasn't thought of it, given his obsession with her comfort and safety, Ana says, "You've forgotten something." At his confusion, she glances at her right knee, slightly swollen from its impact with the pavement, and red raw under the small dressing. "I can't easily be on top tonight."

"Fuck." Then, with an embarrassed grin, Christian asks, "Any suggestions?"

Realizing that his fear is strong enough that he really does need her to be in control right now, Ana considers for a moment and then lifts his right hand to her lips, kissing the palm before repeating the gesture with his left hand and holding them both to say, "These are mine. Understood?"

Christian's eyes are wide with excitement at the possibilities when he gulps, "Yes, ma'am."

Then cradling his face and drawing him into a lingering kiss, lets her lips brush against his as she commands, "And this is mine."

Catching on very quickly, this time Christian only nods a little. Next, holding his fervent gaze with hers, she almost brutally clamps a hand over his crotch, his willingness to follow her lead evident in the fact that one hand isn't enough to contain him, and adamantly declares, "And this will always be mine. Agreed?"

His eyes almost rolling back in his head with pleasure at her aggressive play, Christian again grips the edge of the counter as he rather breathlessly promises, "Wholeheartedly, Mrs. Grey."

Making it up as she goes along, Ana considers for a moment before saying, "Remove my dress. Do not touch my skin."

With a fierce grin, Christian does exactly as he's told. Now clad in only garter belt, stockings, high heels and increasingly moist panties, Ana lets him devour her with his eyes, until she's desperate for more, and instructs, "Caress me, anywhere you please, but only with the backs of your hands."

Christian smiles, clearly happy with this plan, and starts with a tender affirmation of his love for her; one hand on the side of her face. Given his job, he should have soft hands. But years of training with Claude Bastille means that his knuckles are somewhat callused; something that Ana has always found sexy as hell. So this reminder of his strength caressing along her jawline means that it takes every ounce of will Ana has not to lean into the gesture.

When Christian then moves behind her, Ana knows she's in trouble. Because, as he kneels down, all she can see is her own reflection staring back at her from the vast wall mirror; a wanton woman, her nipples hard points of desire and the flush of heady arousal on her skin. It's enough that the touch of Christian's knuckles on the backs of both ankles drags a desperate moan from her lips. She can't see him, but she knows, and commands, "Stop smiling."

Still, she can hear that he's disobeying her when he says, "Yes, ma'am."

By the time his hands simultaneously reach the tops of her thighs, Ana is trembling with need. But he doesn't stop, merely skirting over her buttocks before continuing up her torso, teasing her sensitive ribs with a delicate touch. Finally forced to stand, Christian meets Ana's gaze in the mirror as he continues the tender onslaught. Drowning in pleasure, she closes her eyes as he then trails a line up her spine. When he reaches that vulnerable spot at the back of her neck, an explosion of rapture sends a shudder through her, and she hears his gasped reaction.

Giving them both a moment to calm down, Christian then slowly runs now trembling hands down the backs of her arms, leaving what feels like tiny fingers of fire in his wake. When he reaches her hands, he still obeys her orders, teasing her palms with only the backs of his fingernails, until she whimpers and confesses, "I don't feel in control."

Smirking over her shoulder at their reflection, Christian teases, "Not as easy as you thought?"

Forcing her legs to obey her, Ana takes a small step away from him and turns, saying, "I didn't give you permission to speak."

For a second, she thinks he might break. Not that it matters. She's not the one who fears he might hurt her. But then Christian shocks her yet again when he takes a step back and lowers his gaze in deference to her. She wonders then if anyone has ever seen him do that. For a nanosecond, Elena's face appears in her mind, but she just as quickly banishes the image and focuses instead on this beautiful man; still ready to do anything for her. "Strip; everything except your shirt and boxers."

His eyes bright with excitement, Christian immediately complies. When he moves to hang up his jacket, Ana decides to have some fun. "Uh, uh. Dump it on the floor."

When he offers her a pained expression of entreaty, she manages to keep a straight face as she pointedly glances at the floor. With some flourish, her neat-freak man drops his Armani jacket on the tiles. Then undoing his bowtie, he's trying not to smile as he flings it aside without even looking where it falls. Then removing his shoes, one at a time, he flings them through the doorway to the bedroom. By the time he does similar with his socks, they're both grinning like children, a moment away from laughter.

But then his hands close on the belt and suddenly neither of them is smiling. Ana considers commanding him to use it on her. She can see how much he wants it. But senses that it's one step too far when he's so afraid of injuring her. So she only watches, her lips parted slightly as she pants her need for him, while Christian slowly undoes the buckle and slides the belt from the loops. And then he shocks her for the third time this evening when he offers it to her, clearly giving her permission to beat him. Nothing in her needs that, but she nervously asks, "Do you want me to?"

With a shrug, Christian says, "Not particularly. But I'd probably enjoy it if you're the one wielding it."

Shaking her head in opposition of the idea, Ana declares, "I'll never want to do that to you."

Apparently, it's the right answer, because Christian suddenly smiles and tosses it aside. Then the smoldering tension between them is back as he slowly steps out of his trousers and carelessly kicks them aside. Having thought of this part earlier, Ana grins and says, "Now go get the real handcuffs; the ones that need a key." When he immediately looks afraid of the idea, Ana gently reminds him, "Safewords."

"Yellow."

"What are your concerns?"

The hint of a grin confirming that he's not terrified of the idea, Christian says, "Putting aside the fact that footage of me roaming the halls in only boxers and a silk shirt would then exist?" But then he more seriously continues, "I'm worried that, if we use the real cuffs, you or the baby could get into trouble, and I won't be able to help you."

"It's not a real test if you can easily remove them, Christian. You're the one who said you want to get over this fear. But I don't need this. If you still do, I'm happy to consider options."

Christian thinks about it for a moment and then grimaces at whatever solution he's come up with and suggests, "The panic button? You could strap it to my wrist and we could leave the door unlocked."

He's clearly in earnest, so Ana manages not to laugh at the image of Taylor bursting in on her unconscious and Christian in cuffs. "Okay. We can do that. Now go fetch them."

A cheeky grin at her domineering tone and Christian salutes her before leaving. Warming to her role, pondering the implications of what that says about her, Ana retrieves the panic button from her nightstand and gets into position, facing the door, glad that Christian always keeps the bedroom and playroom warm in the evenings. He soon returns, panting slightly from exertion, and is stunned into stillness at the sight of Ana sprawled on the chaise lounge, one knee bent and an arm resting behind her head, accentuating her bare breasts, and he exclaims, "God, you're beautiful."

Smiling her victory, because she'd known he wouldn't be able to avoid complimenting her, Ana sits up as she says, "You spoke." Holding out a hand for the cuffs, she commands, "Come here."

Playing his part, Christian looks suitably chastened as he approaches and puts the steel handcuffs and key in her hand. Genuinely having fun now that he no longer seems afraid, Ana says, "Good boy. Now turn around, hands behind your back." He does so without hesitation. Still concerned for him, given that this fear has existed for a very long time, Ana asks, "You're sure about this?"

"No." It's clear he was mostly joking when Christian immediately adds, "Yes. I feel all right; nothing like the panic that used to grip me at the idea. Whatever Flynn did with those memory regressions seems to be working on other phobias, too."

"I guess that makes sense." Then holding his hands in hers, she asks, "What will you do if it's getting too much?"

"Yellowred."

Her hands trembling slightly at the magnitude of what they're about to attempt, Ana first tightens the panic button around his wrist as she says, "Hold this down for a couple of seconds in an emergency."

"Yes, ma'am."

Willing her voice to remain more steady than her hands, Ana says, "I'm about to put the cuffs on now. I'll do so very slowly, okay?"

"Thank you, ma'am."

His clipped monotone confirming that the fear is back, Ana carefully lets the cold metal touch his left wrist. When he only tenses in response, but says nothing, she wraps the cuff around his limb, ready to desist at any time. A shudder goes through his body, but Christian holds firm. So she clicks it shut, making sure it's fairly loose. He's now breathing faster, but nowhere near the panic that she's seen in him during some of the sessions with Flynn. Still wary, Ana waits several seconds before slowly repeating the process with his right wrist. "How are you doing?"

Taking a few seconds to compose himself, Christian then says, in wonder, "Surprisingly good. Thank you, baby…ma'am."

"Face me."

Carefully appraising Christian's expression, Ana sees excitement, perhaps a little fear, but nothing like panic. Her chest aching with pride, that he's come so far in only a matter of months – admittedly also of intensive therapy – she permits the love into her voice when she commands, "Kneel."

His joyful grin confirming that he's guessed her intent, Christian drops to his knees on the plush carpet. Already trembling in anticipation, Ana reclines on the lounge – chosen because it's low enough to give him access to her entire body – and drapes her arms behind her head as she asks, "Do you want me?"

"Fuck, yes…yes, ma'am; very much."

Smiling at his earnest answer, Ana closes her eyes as she instructs him, "Show me, but stay on your knees."

Having guessed that the first touch of his mouth would be on her breasts, Ana's eyes fly open in surprise when Christian's lips touch hers. Turning her head towards him and again closing her eyes as she loses herself in the gesture, she feels a sudden need to thread her fingers through his luxurious hair, but resists the urge, instead gripping her hands together, as if she too is bound.

When Christian finally lifts his head, his expression is one of pure bliss. Smiling slightly, he kisses Ana's cheek, then her nuzzles her exposed armpit; the exquisite torture of that sensation eliciting a moan from her and curling her toes. Still with that infuriating half-smile, as if he's actually in control – and perhaps he is – Christian then kisses around her right breast, avoiding the nipple, until Ana is ready to order it.

Only then does his mouth close on the eager bud, and she moans again at the contact, as liquid fire courses through her body. With his lips, tongue and teeth, he keeps her hovering on the brink of orgasm, but never lets her fall over. Any illusion that being the one with the key gives her control is shattered then and there. When he finally breaks contact, Ana angles her body, so that he can bestow the same blessing on her left breast. Grinning, Christian does exactly that, until she's again lost in sensation; writhing and squirming beneath his expert caress.

When Christian finally ends this tender onslaught on her senses, Ana opens her eyes to see that he's moving, still on his knees. When he stops and takes the top of a stocking in his teeth, she anticipates and eagerly assists him by freeing the clasps. Then lifting her leg slightly Ana marvels that it actually feels like he's caressing her as he drags the silk from her body and drops it, never actually touching her. Now at her feet, Christian smiles up at Ana, even as he plants an almost chaste kiss on her now bare toes.

It's the smile of a man with lecherous intent, so Ana knows she's in trouble, even before Christian's mouth closes on her big toe. Unwilling to let him so easily win, she bites down on her bottom lip in a bid to stop the needy moan that she can feel building within her, and is rewarded by his guttural utterance of desire. Still, it's a short-lived victory when Christian then closes his eyes to focus on teasing each of her toes with his mouth. Squirming again, slave to his expert ministrations, Ana tolerates it as best she can until his teeth nip her instep, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her already throbbing groin, and her back arches off the lounge as she cries, "Enough!"

A somewhat bewildered Christian, looking almost as if he's in a trance, asks, "Ma'am?"

Taking a moment to calm her breathing enough for conversation, Ana gasps, "Do you still fear hurting me?"

Surprise suffuses his face and then Christian smiles and says, "No, ma'am. Guess I just needed to get horny enough to override it."

Showing the key, Ana entreats, "Then can you please just fuck me? I'm dying here."

Chuckling, Christian rises to his feet and turns his back so that she can uncuff him, then jokes, "Pregnant women survives brain surgery, only to die from lack of cock."

Ana sits up and scoots closer to unlock the cuffs, pleased that there are no red marks on Christian's wrists, as she laughs and says, "Hey, I'm pretty sure that's a recognized medical condition."

Turning and again dropping to his knees before her, Christian wraps his arms around Ana and asks, "Called?"

"Uh, lustitus?"

Christian nods his approval and pulls her closer as he says, "Not bad. What about 'Chronic Enforced Celibacy'?"

This close, she can smell his arousal – that heady mixture of pheromone-filled sweat – and is literally dizzy with desire as she begs, "Christian, please."

His nostrils flaring as his need increases to match hers, Christian breathes, "Shirt on or off?"

Not willing to wait a moment longer than necessary, Ana hisses, "On, like the first time."

Christian groans at that and deftly removes her other stocking and panties. Ana, on instinct, lays back down, her legs hanging over the edge. Suddenly, her hips are being lifted up. She giggles on realizing that Christian is putting the throw rug beneath her, and he protests, "Hey, this is a genuine Victorian period piece."

Blissfully happy, Ana teases, "Sometimes I think you're a genuine Victorian piece; you're an antique, Mr. Grey."

With a feral grin, Christian growls, "Right! I was going to go easy on you, given your delicate condition, but a man can only take so much."

In this moment ready for anything, Ana spreads her knees and reaches behind her to grip the arm of the chaise lounge as she dares, "Prove it."

Certain that he wouldn't be able to wait a second longer for the joy of being inside her, Ana is amazed yet again by Christian's control when he almost leisurely reaches out to tweak her nipples, actually making her jump at the sudden, intense pleasure. He covers the increasingly large mounds of flesh with his hands, teasing them to peaks of arousal as he says, "I like what this pregnancy is doing to your body, Mrs. Grey."

Ana laughs and asks, "Do all men like big boobs?"

Christian chuckles and says, "Well, that too. But I was actually talking about the fact that you're becoming even more responsive to me. And your clit! It's like you have a permanent mini-erection going on down here."

Embarrassed by the explicit nature of his "compliment", Ana blushes and says, "You're not a nice man, Mr. Grey."

Only then does she recognize the voice of the man she loves in his flint-edged reply. "No, I'm not."

Without another word, Christian drops his boxers only enough to free his erection and, instead of pushing forward, almost cruelly clutches Ana's hips and drags her achingly slowly onto him; both of them sighing at the exquisite rightness of the moment after so long without it. Her legs wrap around him as if with a will of their own, her feet hooking behind his thighs. Even with her back actually hanging off the end of the sofa, Ana is in no fear of falling. Now supporting her with an iron grip under her buttocks, Christian slowly moves within her, until time stops and earthly concerns recede. Inevitably lost to pure, carnal sensation, Ana forgets even who she is. Only one fact remains to anchor her consciousness; as her body is rocked by an orgasm powerful enough to remove any trace of humanity from her, leaving only a primal being satiated by lust, she screams out what is, in that moment, her reason for existing, "Christian!"

It seems eternity, but can only be seconds, when consciousness begins to return. Ana answers the ache in her shoulders by releasing her strained grip on the furniture. She's somehow again lying mostly on the chaise lounge and Christian's head is resting on her abdomen, just above the baby bump, his waning erection still inside her. When she runs her fingers through his hair, he shows his smiling face and asks, "Worth the wait?"

Laughing, that even his anxious side would think anything else, Ana says, "Yes. But let's never wait that long again."

Apparently appeased by that answer, he returns his head to her bare torso as he says, "Fine by me." Then shuffling a little, so that he can run a hand over her belly, he kisses it and mutters, "Sorry, Blip, but you'd better get used to it. Mommy likes cock."