Author's note: Hitting the slopes soon...hopefully not with my face. So please remain calm if you don't hear from me for a couple of weeks; I'll just be trying to remember how to ski. Thank you, for reading.

Oh, someone very politely asked if I could hurry things along a little. I want you to know that I really did try. But, here we are, almost four thousand words later, and the story has progressed only a couple of hours. Still, I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Thirty-six

Naked on the satin sheets, her eyes closed, Ana hears Christian's soft footsteps move around the room. Soon, music fills the air. Smiling, she guesses, "Tchaikovsky?"

"Shostakovich: Romance, from The Gadfly. Do you like it?"

Knowing that such questions from Christian are always sincere, Ana listens for a while, then breathes an unsteady sigh, powerful emotions whirling like a tempest within her, and says, "I love it. Thank you."

Now, of course, she cannot hear him moving, so startles a little when he says, from right beside the bed, "Good. Can I trust you to keep your eyes shut?"

Squeezing her eyelids just a little, Ana vows, "Yes…I hope."

Christian chuckles, that wonderful warm sound that is reserved for when he is utterly content, and says, "At least you're honest." His voice is then by her ear, Dominant Christian in his tone, when he suggests, "How about, if you open them before I'm done, I punish you?"

His slight emphasis on the word "punish" confirming that it will be pleasurable, means that Ana gulps and practically begs, "Okay."

Christian stands, laughing as he does so, and says, "I know I've said it before, baby, but you are, by far, my favorite toy. Now relax."

Only then does Ana notice that her entire body is tensed, fists even clenched by her sides in anticipation of what he might do next. "Easy for you to say; you're not the one naked and effectively blind on the bed."

"True enough."

And then there's only seductive music and the evocative scent of roses. Moments later, Ana gasps in surprise as Christian's cool fingertips touch her cheek…only it's not his fingers; something very soft, sensuously so, and cool like…smiling, she says, "The rose."

"Clever girl. Now shut the fuck up and feel, instead of using that wonderful mind of yours."

He takes his time; blazing a trail of almost ticklish pleasure down her neck and up to her lips. Her nostrils now awash with the sweet fragrance, Ana pictures his lips on hers, and cannot stop the soft mewling sound that escapes her throat.

"Easy, baby; I've barely started."

He knows her body; knows the places he can touch that will make her desperate for more. Trembling, her heart racing and her breath coming in ragged bursts, Ana endures the delicate, floral caress on several of them; inside the elbows, then wrists, the spot inside her hips that makes her squirm on that fine line between pleasurable and intolerable, and her now quivering thighs. Next, the rose bud meanders up her torso and around one breast, spiraling slowly in towards the nipple; already at attention in readiness for his caress. Almost to the center, it spirals out again, only for this torture to be repeated on the other breast. "Bastard."

Sounding blissfully content, Christian agrees, "Yes, ma'am. Spread your legs and bend your knees a little, baby. I want to see you."

No longer embarrassed by such a request…well, not much, Ana immediately complies, clenching her eyes tight as the need to watch him watching her becomes overwhelming. Suddenly, she's alone with Shostakovich, but not for long. Seconds later she feels the mattress dip and Christian says, "You look like you're overheating a little, baby. Need to cool down?"

Somehow she just knows that the few seconds he was gone from her side were to fetch some ice. She's read about such things since meeting Christian, and enjoyed the descriptions, but they've never done it, so the incredibly powerful allure of something both exciting and unfamiliar means that her voice is barely audible when she squeaks, "Yes?"

Christian breathes a laugh and says, "Is that a question, baby?"

Knowing that he will genuinely want her input, Ana gulps, "No; not a question. I really want to try it, please."

"Look at me." He's naked; the firelight dancing off his skin and seeming to set his hair on fire, giving him almost a demonic expression; except for the tender love shining from his eyes.

When did he have time to get naked? "You're beautiful, Christian."

A smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, he says, "Thank you, baby." Then gesturing to the ice bucket, now within arm's reach of him, he continues, "There's little danger, as the ice has melted enough to smooth off any jagged edges, but I might get carried away and linger long enough for your skin to lose some sensation. Just let me know if it's not working for you, okay?"

Her body paradoxically on fire at the thought of Christian caressing her with ice, Ana earnestly declares, "Oh, I think it'll work just fine."

Christian chuckles and says, "I'm glad you're looking forward to it. Now close your eyes again."

Again effectively blind, Ana can tell that Christian is moving up the bed from that telltale flexing of the mattress. Suddenly, icy cold suffuses her lips and her eyes almost flicker open in shock, but she recovers quickly and clenches them tightly shut.

The ice is gone and Christian's mellow voice is filled with pride as he says, "Good girl. I think your reflexes have improved, baby."

"Well, you certainly do keep a girl on her toes, Mr. Grey."

This is met with only his delighted laughter. Seconds later, the ice is back, swirling around and around her lips, melting and running down her chin; a little trickling into her mouth, causing a reflexive swallow. Ana can't help the moan that escapes when Christian's contrastingly hot lips are suddenly on hers, greedily lapping the moisture from her mouth. He doesn't stay there nearly long enough, and the ice cube is back, but soon begins travelling over her already sensitive flesh, leaving tiny bumps of shocked pleasure in its wake. When she realizes that he's retracing the path he travelled with the rose – namely, her entire body – she begs, "Christian, please; we have to be up at six and I really am burning up here."

There's silence for a few seconds during which Ana almost opens her eyes, to ascertain his mood, then Christian says, "You're right. Sorry, baby, but you must know by now that I find you very distracting. If you didn't need food and sleep, I would gladly spend twenty hours a day pleasuring you."

Floating on a heavenly cloud of love, lust, surrender and trust, Ana smiles and asks, "Just twenty, darling?"

It's obvious he's not upset by her interruption when Christian warmly replies, "Hey, a guy needs his rest. Now shut the fuck up and feel; keep those eyes closed."

"Yes, Sir."

Not sure where he'll "attack" next, Ana scrunches her eyes shut, so is able to almost obey his command when she next feels the ice on her left nipple, merely releasing a soft "Ah," of surprise. When he then starts flicking the cube across the pebbled, wanton bundle of nerve ends, Ana's body twitches in response to this harsh pleasure. Just when she's beginning to wonder if she can take any more, the ice is gone and his hot mouth is on her breast. "Oh, God!"

She feels his smile against her skin, and he lifts his mouth just far enough away to joke, "Yes?"

But then there are no more words, from either of them. Christian's tongue, lips and teeth erase any trace of cold, until Ana is writhing in ecstasy, lost in that place just before release. And then his mouth is gone, to be replaced by his cooler than usual, but always skillful fingers; on both breasts. Having received no instruction about her body's responses, Ana still uses all she's learned from him to delay her orgasm, because she knows it will be worth the effort. But she almost fails in the instant when his lips then close around her right nipple, revealing that he'd been holding the ice in his mouth while he caressed her and, again, a blasphemous celebration or benediction is torn from her lips, "God, save me!"

And, again, Christian smiles against her willing flesh, then lifts his mouth enough to promise, "No."

He's moving again. Forcing herself to relax – almost impossible when she knows where he'll reappear – Ana is shocked when he grabs her ankles and pulls her towards the end of the bed, eliciting a yelp from her and making her eyes fly open. Of course, he's looking right at her, a smug grin on his face, and gently admonishes, "Naughty, naughty, Mrs. Grey."

He's not in Dom mode, so Ana smiles and protests, "Hey, I think I should get some sort of award for lasting that long."

He's a magnificent sight; standing at the end of the bed, gloriously naked, golden in the soft firelight, his hands still grasping her ankles and laughing with delight at her words. Dropping to his knees before her, resting her legs over his shoulders, he smiles and asks, "How about a reward, instead?"

She knows him, too; and watches with delight as his gaze gets progressively darker and more intense when she deliberately slowly slides her hands up her body to simultaneously tweak both nipples – her body writhing a little at the pleasure of doing this while he practically devours her with his avid stare – then she commands, "Shut up and fuck me."

The soft sound torn from his throat could be a groan, growl or whimper, and its meaning is clear; he wants her, now. But he does nothing, not moving a muscle while he watches her now practiced hands caressing her breasts, until they're both panting with need. Eventually, he shakes his head a little, as if coming out of a daze, and jokes, "I could watch that twenty hours a day, too. But we've got a big day ahead of us, and I need to fuck my wife."

They both smile a little when his hand is obviously trembling as he reaches for another ice cube and pops it into his mouth; slightly awkward around her thigh. Without Christian watching her, Ana has little interest in her breasts, so she stretches her hands up to rest above her head and again closes her eyes as he lowers his mouth to her. First, it's his breath – cold, of course – puckering her needy flesh and making her clitoris pulse with greed. When his cool tongue touches her, she can't help but twitch in surprise at the alien feeling. But it soon becomes only pleasurable and she's lost in sensation as he alternates between hot and cold – fire and ice – until her orgasm is only seconds away.

Just before release, his mouth leaves her, provoking a whimper. Christian chuckles and says, "Need more ice. You're practically steaming down here."

Desperate for relief from the throbbing hunger in her body, Ana lifts her head to look at him and beg, "Please, let's just forget about it."

"Now, baby, you know better than that. I've already compromised this evening."

So she knows there's no point trying to hurry him along. Besides, it's always worth the wait. Again closing her eyes and relaxing in readiness for his return, Ana is wholly unprepared when he suddenly pushes a small ice cube inside her. "Oh, fuck!"

Laughter in his voice, Christian chides, "Language, Mrs. Grey."

Drowning in unfamiliar sensation, Ana exclaims, "But, fuck, Christian…that's…I can't even describe it."

"Then shut the fuck up and enjoy it."

Then everything happens too fast for Ana's overworked brain to keep track; his fingers inside her, twirling against her g-spot and spreading the icy pleasure within, his cool tongue again on her clit, torturing and teasing her towards climax, and the rivulets of melting ice tickling her butt until she's ready to scream her frustration at being so close. And then she tips over, removed from earthly concerns, pulsing through layer upon layer of pleasure, and she does eventually scream; an incoherent celebration of life and love.

Eventually, she becomes aware of her surroundings, to see that Christian is alternately kissing her thighs and gazing up at her, and he asks, "Enough, baby?"

She knows that he means it; that he really would forgo his own pleasure, as he has done in the past, if she's too washed out to continue. Adamantly shaking her head in opposition of the idea, Ana reaches down to run her fingers through his hair in encouragement as she says, "Not nearly enough. And, please, can I watch you tonight?"

Her baby bump making face-to-face intercourse tricky, Christian considers for a moment, then asks, "No dizziness, nausea, heartburn; anything?"

Grateful, as ever, that her obsessive husband is constantly concerned about her comfort, Ana offers a silent, probably vain prayer that he'll stop mentioning symptoms of her pregnancy while they're having sex. "No, nothing. I'm fine. I just want to be able to see you."

Reassured, Christian grins and says, "I'd like that, too. Let me know if it's uncomfortable, okay?"

"I promise."

When Christian stands, silently encouraging Ana to wrap her legs around his waist, Ana sees that he's well and truly ready to be inside her; his dick at turgid attention. Smiling, she muses, "You really do enjoy giving me pleasure, don't you?"

"Baby, you have no idea. I almost came with you just now; as if we were sharing the orgasm."

Blushing at the memory of her body arching off the bed, and the scream of pleasure torn from her throat – in a way, insane with ecstasy at the time – Ana says, "Well, there certainly was enough for two."

Wondering how he can retain such control, Ana struggles to keep her gaze on his and her body's responses to a minimum when Christian slowly enters her, even as he calmly instructs, "Next one is for both of us, okay?"

In this, she has always been his to command, and replies, "Just say the word, Mr. Grey."

He smiles a little at that, then is silent, his already intense stare darkening with lust as he supports her weight with strong fingers spread under her buttocks, his thumbs pressing almost painfully into her hips, and slowly begins moving within her. Just the sight of him like this – primal Christian – is almost enough to trigger Ana's second orgasm. But she waits, anchoring her awareness on him; monitoring his response, until his speed quickens almost to a frantic pace, and she sees that moment of bliss appear on his face just before he grunts, "Now, Anastasia."

The love he always manages to instill into her full name is her undoing, and this time she calls out his name as they both become beings of pure rapture; lost in a euphoric world of mutual pleasure for what seems like an eternity. When Ana comes back down to earth, Christian is stretched out beside her, raised up on an elbow, so that he can look at her; one hand resting on her abdomen, the other gently smoothing the sweat-soaked tendrils of hair from her face as he bestows a blissful smile on her and rather breathlessly says, "I love you, wife."

Too spent even to speak, Ana merely smiles, trusting him to understand. It seems he does, for his smile widens and he tenderly kisses her, then adjusts his position so that he can kiss her mounded belly, saying, "And I love you. Sorry about the bumpy ride." At first concerned when he then utters "Fuck," Ana relaxes when Christian's feather light touch rests on both her hips in turn, and he explains, "I'm sorry, baby, but these might bruise; must have held on a little tight. Does it hurt?"

Exhaustion dragging at her, Ana says, "No. I'm fine. I swear. I enjoyed you gripping me like that, and it didn't really hurt, or I would have said something."

Somewhat appeased, Christian's frown eases a little as he says, "Well, okay." Still, he bestows an apologetic peck on both thumb prints before asking, "Need to pee?"

When she nods, he's already helping her to sit up as Ana says, "Far too frequently. He hasn't been measured for a while, but I suspect that our son is a giant; certainly feels like it where he presses on my bladder." Christian is chuckling in agreement as Ana gets off the bed. When her vulnerable behind suddenly falls prey to his ever-ready palm, she whirls on him, angrily asking, "What the fuck was that for?"

Unrepentant, Christian grins and says, "You opened your eyes, baby. I warned you. Plus, you look very sleepy and we haven't had our twenty minutes yet, so I thought it would perk you up a little."

Not genuinely angry – apparently still unable to summon more than mild annoyance when faced with Christian's boyish grin – Ana heads for the bathroom, rubbing her butt and muttering, "I'd like to perk you up; ambushing a pregnant woman like that when she's just trying to pee."

Despite the warmth of their bedroom, the air in the bathroom and the tiles beneath her feet are more representative of the probably freezing outside temperature, so Ana doesn't linger. Still, when she returns, Christian has neatened the bed covers and is snug beneath them. Smiling kindly as he watches her approach, he lifts a corner so that she can climb into his arms. They kiss for a while, more affectionate than passionate. Remembering how insistent he was about their planned, daily conversation, Ana asks, "So, you have something you want to tell me?"

"Yes. But, can you try and stay calm? I really want to get this off my chest."

Her heart beating a little faster, and her muscles tensing in fear and anger, Ana guesses, "Elena?"

"Yes. But I think you'll like what I have to say."

Taking a few moments to erase her visceral reaction to that name, Ana then nods and says, "Okay."

Quickly kissing her, Christian says, "Thanks, baby." After a deep breath, he begins, "Being here, on this trip, I'm beginning to see…no, I need to start with the past. What Elena and I did; you can imagine that she didn't want anyone finding out about it."

It honestly doesn't feel like a choice when Ana bitterly murmurs, "I'll bet she didn't."

It's also a plea when Christian cautions, "Baby."

Snuggling closer in apology, Ana offers, "Sorry. Please, I want to hear what you have to say."

"I knew that what we were doing was illegal. I was young and, in many ways, innocent; but not ignorant. So I knew enough to be afraid of anyone finding out. And Elena played on that fear, reminding me time and again that, if anyone found out, what she called our 'special relationship' would be over in a moment; that she would be arrested and I'd be, at the very least, undergoing intensive therapy, at worst…." Another sigh and he continues, "But her need to protect herself, to keep our affair secret, meant that she went even further. She told me, and showed me, in so many ways, that regular people don't understand the lifestyle and would look at me with revulsion if they ever found out. She'd even…fuck, she'd even say things like that when she was at Bellevue, just so I could see the look of disgust on Mom's face."

Desperate to soothe his obvious anxiety, but wanting to give him this chance, that he clearly desperately wants, Ana asks only, "Things like what? You mean when she was Grace's friend and used to attend family functions?"

"Yes. Elena…she never liked to waste an opportunity to exercise her control over me, so would use such events to remind me that I belonged to her." With a wry grin, he comments, "I spent those parties concealing my rock hard erection, desperate for any contact with her. But she was too cautious for that, and would later punish me most severely if I so much as let my arm brush hers, or even spoke to her without her initiating the conversation. And the punishments were even worse if I tried to avoid her; to spare myself this discomfort." Not game to open her mouth because of the anger these words elicit, Ana is silently fuming when Christian continues, "She'd allude to news reports from all over the country, but not often enough to seem weird; female teacher caning and fucking a male student, woman fucking her step-son while the husband slept in the next room, stuff like that." Shaking his head, he says, "I don't know how she guessed it about me, but she knew that I would misinterpret Mom's expression."

Mention of her mother-in-law's eternal benevolence is enough to relax Ana so that she's able to calmly state, "Grace hates the predators, not the victims."

"Yes. Even though I was fucked up enough…and young enough back then, to fall for Elena's stunt, I worked it out eventually. But the damage was already done, and enough people consider kink abhorrent that I came to accept it as the truth; my desires were disgusting."

"But…I thought Flynn helped you realize that lots of people live this way…I mean, not seducing teenagers, but…you know."

"Yes, he helped a lot. But I was so under her spell that Elena's words always meant more to me than Flynn's…at least until I broke away from her and found my own definition of what it means to be dominant."

After a moment, Ana quietly dares, "Except that you didn't; not really."

Christian sighs and concedes, "No; not really. Even in that I leaned on her for guidance. She picked every brown-haired girl that subbed for me. Thinking back, I realize now that she even subtly encouraged my delusion that I needed to beat replicas of my mother to get off." Smiling at Ana, he adds, "Clearly, not true."

Delighted that they can now have discussions like this without either of them getting too anxious, Ana giggles and says, "No; all sorts of things get you off." They're still gazing lovingly into each other's eyes when Ana asks, "So, this trip is further eroding that feeling of shame?"

Snapping out of his reverie, Christian explains, "Yes. I have never…and I mean never, felt this okay about my sex life; as if, and I'm not saying that I actually want to, but almost as if I could tell people about what we get up to in the bedroom and playroom…you know, without having them sign an NDA first." Ana is smiling her pride as he finishes, and he mirrors the gesture before asking, "You've always felt okay about it, haven't you? I mean, I'm guessing you don't want to sit down and discuss kink with your mom, but you wouldn't be ashamed if she knew."

"No, I wouldn't. I'm pretty sure Ray would threaten to rip your arms off, until I convinced him that this is what I want, but I'd even be okay with Dad knowing. And I'm very, very glad that you're no longer ashamed of us." With a sudden grin, she adds, "But not as happy as Flynn will be at this news; he's been waiting longer than I have."

"Yeah, I guess so." Then holding her a little tighter, Christian says, "Thank you, baby. Not even with the good doctor have I ever had this feeling; that I can say anything and you'll hear me out without judging me."

Ready to burst from happiness and pride, in both of them, Ana smiles and says, "I do judge you, but it's always favorably."

And then Ana wonders if her smile looks the same as his; blissfully content. She accepts his kiss, then snuggles against his chest, falling asleep to the incredibly reassuring sound of his strong heartbeat.