The first thing Christine heard when she woke up was a terrible, piercing ring. She wanted nothing more than for it to stop - she was warm, buried under soft sheets and wrapped around a pillow. Not much would've made her want to move.
There was a warm hand on her back, sitting between her shoulder blades. She could feel the slow, soothing path that his thumb traced.
"I think you forgot to check in with your friend, princess." His voice was much more bearable than the ringing sound. "I didn't want to wake you up but it's been ringing for an hour."
"I forgot," she mumbled.
"I know you did," he answered softly. "I forgot to remind you. Meg is probably pretty worried right about now."
"Meg!" Christine cried, sitting up so quickly that she got a headrush. "Oh God, I forgot!"
"Breathe," Erik instructed gently. "It's okay, princess. I'm sure she'll just be happy to hear from you."
"She told me she would send the police and -"
"There's no reason to worry about that," he said firmly. "If she does, she's only a good friend. I wouldn't be upset about it."
Christine sighed and leaned back against the headboard, closing her eyes for just a second. "You're right."
"I know that I am," he answered, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
She huffed and reached for her phone, only for him to move it just out of her reach. "Can I please call my friend so she doesn't send the police here, Daddy?" she tried after a minute.
"Sure," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "But you have to tell me what you want for breakfast first. You promised that you would, sweetheart."
"I don't know," she huffed, letting her head drop back against the headboard.
"What do you normally eat?"
"Toast," she sighed.
He hummed. "Toast with what?"
"Just toast. With butter, I guess. Usually. Sometimes I have jelly too."
He simply sighed and held her phone out to her. "That isn't enough," he said. "But I'm sure I can come up with something. Call your friend, princess."
She took the phone from him and squinted down at the bright screen.
"Sweetheart," he said softly.
Christine looked up at him and the way he was staring at her made her freeze.
Eventually he smiled at her, gently, and used his hand to brush back her terribly tangled hair. "You are so pretty," he said eventually. Christine wasn't really sure what to say so she just stared at him until finally he chuckled and leaned forward.
His kiss was just as gentle as the one he had given her the night before at the airport.
And just like that he was gone.
She thought she might have followed him if the phone in her hand hadn't started ringing just then.
Christine took a moment to compose herself and she answered it on the third ring. "Meg, oh my god I'm so sorry I completely forgot and then I got distracted and -"
"Jesus, I thought you were dead," Meg huffed on the other end of the line. "I was seriously giving you another half an hour and then I was gonna call the cops. You never sleep through a call."
Christine bit her lip and pulled her knees up to her chest. "... I left my phone in the other bedroom. It would've woke me up. I'm sorry, I didn't even think about it."
"You sound like shit."
"Give me a break," Christine laughed. "Erik just woke me up."
"Uh huh. Did you get some?"
"Meg! … kind of. He's actually been really sweet," Christine answered, resting her chin on her knees. "I'm pretty confident we can mark serial killer off the list."
"... is the princess thing as weird in person as it sounds?" Meg asked.
Christine could feel the burn in her cheeks. "I'm going to hang up on you."
Meg laughed. "Have fun but you're totally grounded when you get home," she said. "You really did scare me, Chris."
"... I know," Christine mumbled. "And I really am sorry. I totally forgot."
"What're you guys up to today?"
"I dunno," Christine answered. "I haven't even gotten out of bed yet… I think Erik is cooking breakfast. I don't know what he's making though. He didn't seem like he thought toast was a good answer."
"I think he's right," Meg said. "I won't keep you on, Chris. I really did just want to make sure you were okay. Go take obnoxious, touristy photos. I wanna see them all when you get home."
"I'm pretty sure I will. I think he's gonna make me one way or another."
"Good. Go get some dick, Chris. You need it," Meg teased. "I'll be on the edge of my seat waiting to hear all about it."
"You're gross."
"You love me."
"I do," Christine laughed. "I'll text you later, okay?"
"Yeah, later," Meg agreed.
With that, Christine hung up, setting her phone on Erik's bedside table. She thought that his bed might be a little too comfortable - all she wanted to do was sink back into his soft sheets and fall back asleep wrapped around the pillow that smelled a bit too much like him, warm and clean.
Instead she forced her feet over the edge of the bed and tried not to hiss when they touched the just a bit too cold floor.
The first stop she made was her bedroom, darting across the cold hallway to grab her slippers.
Her bedroom. It was weird how easily the thought came.
She stared down at her slightly ratty slippers on her feet. They were wearing in some places but there weren't any actual holes yet. For a minute she wondered if she should change. She had some decent socks that would work well enough and looked a lot better.
But she didn't have the money to keep that up. She could only do so much to hide her poverty. No matter how hard she fought it, he would figure it out eventually. So she decided to wear her slightly worn slippers and pull on her favorite sweatshirt. It was oversized and the bottom seam was fraying; she didn't care. It was comfortable. It had been her dads.
He said that he wanted to know her. He insisted that it wasn't all about sex and gratification, that he wanted her to be herself. So she would try, even if she wasn't totally sure what herself really was.
He was in the kitchen when she peeked over the bannister, frying something in a pan. "Do you like tomatoes, princess?" he asked, his voice only loud enough for her to hear. He hadn't even turned to look at her; she wasn't sure how he knew she was there.
"Yeah," she answered, making her way down the stairs.
"Good," he said, glancing back at her before he went back to his pan. "Any food allergies?"
"None that I know about," she said, making her way into the kitchen. The blanket he had wrapped around them the night before was still on the couch, wrinkled and hanging over the edge. "Do you need help?"
"I've got it under control, I think," he said slowly. "You can sit down if you want, princess. Find something to watch on TV - it should be ready soon."
It was a little uncomfortable. Christine couldn't remember the last time someone had actually cooked for her. Even in his last few years, her dad hadn't been well enough to do it and Raoul, well, he tried, once or twice, but the smoke detector didn't agree with him. She wasn't really sure how to not help.
"You really don't have to do that."
It wasn't until he said it that Christine even realized she had picked up the blanket to fold it. " ... I want to," she said eventually.
"I'm not going to tell you that you can't," he said, flipping what Christine's nose told her was egg.
"But you are my guest and I certainly don't expect you to. I want you to relax, princess. I don't think you do that nearly enough."
Her stomach was rumbling. She could smell garlic and she couldn't remember the last time she actually ate breakfast. "I promise I'll try," she answered, folding the blanket one last time over her arms and then setting it over the back of the couch just like it had been when she first got there. "I'm still just..."
"Nervous," he finished for her after a moment.
"Yeah," she answered softly. "Is that okay?"
"Is it?" he retorted, matching her tone. When she didn't answer he sighed, turning off the burner and moving the pan aside. "I think it's normal," he answered. "I want you to be comfortable. If it takes a little time to get there that's okay with me. As long as you're honest and don't shut down on me."
"I promise that I'm trying," she said, pulling at the already fraying seams on the cuff of her sweatshirt.
"That's all I can ever ask for," he said softly. "Come and sit down at the table, princess. I'm just waiting on the toast now. Do you like mayo?"
"Usually, I think," she answered, making her way to the table and convincing herself to pick a seat confidently.
"Well, I'll only put one together then," he said, plating the toast as it popped out. "If you don't we can do something different with the second. Please don't make yourself eat anything you don't like. Can we agree on that much?"
"I think so," she said softly, watching his back as he put the food together.
"Good."
Christine stared at the plate that he put in front of her. It was some sort of open-faced sandwich; toast on the bottom, a thin layer of mayo, a slice of tomato and the over-easy egg topping it.
"I looked at it that way the first time I tried it, too," he said, half laughing. "I promise it tastes better than it sounds. It has some dumb fancy name that I honestly don't remember."
She picked up the fork and butter knife he had given her, cutting off a small bite for herself and trying to ignore the way he was staring at her. It was delicious. The garlic was in the egg, she decided. It had to be.
He seemed satisfied enough with whatever he saw on her face; he stopped staring at her the way he had been, turning his attention to his own plate. "I asked you to pick some things that you wanted to see. Did you ever manage to come up with anything?"
"I tried," she said. "Every time I looked it just - it made me more nervous. I don't know what I'm supposed to want to see. I've never been on vacation, not even when I was little. Dad couldn't... well, we never had a whole lot of money, so I don't really know how to do all this."
"That's okay," he said softly. "I expected as much, honestly. I'd like to take you to the pier some time this week. It's pretty to see, at least. There's also a zoo and a decent aquarium not too far away - but today we can just take a walk. See if anything catches your eye."
"I think I would like that," she said slowly.
He smiled. "And tonight I'll take you to dinner. I took the whole week off but I think... well, don't feel too bad if you don't get to see everything. I want you to have a reason to come back."
Christine sighed. If she was honest, she almost felt relieved. He didn't point out her clothes or ask her about her ragged sweatshirt. He didn't look at her like she had somehow convinced herself that he would; like she was something small and pitiful and less than.
It was a little awkward, and a little strange, but he was kind and didn't push her too much. By the time that he convinced her that no, he really didn't care if her clothes didn't fit perfectly and no, nothing she wore would embarrass him, it was a little past noon.
"That's perfect," he said to her, straightening the cuffs of his jacket as he stood by the door waiting for her. "I have something for you to change into for dinner. No one will give you a second look unless they're checking you out. You can stop fussing, you look perfectly fine."
"Maybe if you're taking me to a homeless camp," she said, pulling on the sleeve of her slightly stained shirt. She wished she would've noticed before she came. It could have been bleached.
"It can be arranged if you'd like," he said, humor in his eyes as he watched her fidget. "You will feel even more ridiculous if I let you change now. It's just a walk, nothing fancy. Come on."
She huffed but she took the arm he offered her anyway. "I don't want to embarrass you," she admitted quietly.
"If anyone is embarrassed by this then they don't deserve to be with you at all," he said softly. "We will have to work on your confidence. No one would even notice a tiny stain like that - I didn't until you pointed it out."
She leaned a little heavier on him. There was no way the embarrassment would go away, but he always had a way of setting her mind at ease.
"Rules," he said, laying his free hand over hers on his arm. "You can call me by my first name in public if it is more comfortable for you. You will ask me before you let go of my arm... it isn't a particularly unsafe area but I don't want you wandering off on your own. You will always wait for me to open doors or pull out chairs for you. Any disagreements so far?"
"No," she said softly. All in all, it seemed pretty reasonable to her. In all honesty, she didn't want to wander off at all. She was terrible with directions and it took her two months to learn the bus schedule back home. One of the last things she wanted to do was get lost in an unfamiliar place - and she would get lost.
"Good girl." The warmth in his voice made her stomach clench nervously. "Most importantly, you will tell me if there is something you want to see or a store you want to walk through. Understood?"
"Yessir," she murmured in a weak attempt at a joke. It earned her half a chuckle. She would take it.
The streets were loud. Horns blared almost constantly and the cyclists made her almost as nervous as the taxi drivers did; no one seemed to see anyone but themselves and she wasn't even sure that the traffic lights meant anything in the city. She was mostly familiar with it, people drove pretty similarly in Boston, but even if Erik didn't tell her not to, she was pretty sure she wouldn't have wanted to let go of his arm.
Almost like he sensed her nervousness, he tucked her closer against his side.
There was more confidence visible in him now than there had been the night before when he first brought her home. He hardly even seemed to notice the way that people were staring at him. Something about it bothered her. Not the fact that he ignored it, but the fact that they stared like he was center stage in some sort of freakshow. The worst part was that she thought she would probably stare if she didn't know him too, and it made her feel guilty when she realized it.
"Do you drink coffee?" he asked suddenly as they walked past a cafe storefront. "Or maybe milkshakes? There's a nice ice cream parlor up the road. I don't think it would ruin your appetite too much for dinner."
"I'm okay," she said softly. "Thank you though."
"There's a coffee shop on every corner," he answered slowly. "If you change your mind all you have to do is say it."
It was the last thing he really said for a while. They walked in a mostly comfortable silence. There wasn't anything particularly nice or eye catching along the way, but it was pleasant. Christine couldn't honestly remember the last time she had gone on a walk just to go. Her time was limited and she was almost always rushing to one place or another.
"I feel like I'm supposed to be doing something," she confessed to him. "I don't know how to do this… just enjoy myself. Relax."
"I'll help you learn that, too," he said, squeezing her hand gently. "It's a good skill to have. You'll burn out eventually if you don't do it every so often."
Eventually, she rested her temple against his arm as they walked along. She couldn't quite reach his shoulder and he didn't seem to mind at all. At one point he even paused and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
By the time they made it back up to his penthouse, Christine was ready for a little quiet.
She wasn't really sure why she had bothered to fold the blanket; almost as soon as she had the opportunity she was huddled under it again.
"I am not averse to turning on the heat," he said as she wrapped it tightly around her shoulders. "If you are too cold all you have to do is say it."
"I'm not cold," she argued, burrowing into the blanket. "Just cozy. I'll share…"
"That sounds lovely, princess," he murmured, leaning over the back of the couch to look at her. "But I'm afraid I have a few things I need to take care of for work, and I plan on keeping you… busy after dinner, so I'm afraid I'll need to see to it now."
Christine could feel the rush of heat to her face and he only chuckled, leaning over the couch and kissing her cheek.
"It will only take a few minutes, princess. I promise."
It wasn't a lie. She had only just managed to find something to watch on television by the time he came back, sitting beside her.
There was no hesitation when she leaned against his side this time, and he pulled her close, sighing and burying his lips in her hair.
When she didn't think about it too hard, it came almost naturally to her. She knew how to be with a guy. Raoul and her used to snuggle often. It wasn't foreign or overwhelming when his thumb rubbed against her shoulder. It was easy to lean against him and close her eyes.
The dress was shorter than anything she would have picked for herself. She stared at her reflection in the long mirror on the back of her bedroom door.
It wasn't unreasonably short. It touched the tops of her knees, which suddenly looked too knobby to her. The sleeves were spaghetti straps. They covered nothing. The cut showed the top of her cleavage, but it wasn't anything she was afraid to lean over in - it was fitted enough and high enough that she was pretty sure nothing would slip out of place.
It was a pretty dress. Powder pink. It wasn't uncomfortably dressy but it was classy enough. She was pretty sure it cost more than most of her wardrobe combined, but she still couldn't help but think it looked better on the hanger than it did on her.
She was suddenly far too aware of all of her flaws. It didn't hang right on her, she thought. Her breasts were just a little too large for her body type, she was a little too thin, and when she looked at herself she couldn't help seeing anything other than a shapeless rectangle. The scars on her arms were too pink, too raised, and against her pale skin and the light color of the dress, they stood out like a sore thumb.
Christine always wore long sleeves. She didn't even like to look at them herself, so she doubted anyone else really wanted to see them.
She knew, objectively, that she was pretty enough. Men had been commenting on her body since she was fifteen. It was just that she was pretty sure she didn't see whatever they did when she looked in the mirror.
"Does it fit?"
His words were warm and soft through the bedroom door, and she wrapped her arms around herself nervously. "Yeah," she answered softly.
"Will you let me see?"
It took her a second to work up the nerve to even reach for the cold handle of the door. She paused and took a slow breath before she twisted it and pulled the door open.
She was never sure what to make of it when he looked at her the way that he was. He was appraising her, his eyes sweeping slowly from her head to her toes, and she crossed her arms again, desperate to find some way to hide herself.
"It looks perfect on you, princess," he said eventually.
"Can I please wear a jacket?" she whispered.
He hummed and reached for her slowly. His hands traced her arms from her elbows to her wrists and slowly, gently, he managed to get her to loosen her tight grip on herself. He pulled her arms out toward himself and turned her wrists over, staring at the raised edges of her scars. "Because of these?" he asked softly.
"Yeah," she admitted quietly.
"They're all old," he said, meeting her eye. "Here. When is the last time you used your arms?"
She blinked, looking down at the scars. "A few years ago," she mumbled. "I don't like them. Please can I wear a jacket?"
"This time," he said slowly. "You can wear a jacket tonight, if it will make you more comfortable. But I wont say yes every time. Scars are nothing to be ashamed of. Particularly the ones that are a few years old."
"Thank you," she breathed in relief.
He released her wrists and framed her face with his warm palms, kissing her forehead gently. "Come with me, sweetheart. I think I have one that will work."
She followed him easily down the hallway and into his bedroom. It wasn't even until she plopped down on the edge of his bed that she realized how oddly at ease she felt with him.
He emerged from his closet with a black women's dress jacket, holding it out to her.
She slipped it on and pulled at the edges of it, biting her lip.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly.
She shrugged her shoulders. "Just… was it someone else's?"
"No," he chuckled. "No one else has worn it, sweetheart. I bought a few things for you, just in case. I wasn't sure what exactly you would want to do. I'm just glad that I've managed to guess your sizes well enough so far."
The jacket that he managed to find didn't quite match. It was black, the sleeves were just a little too long. It covered her scars, though, and that was enough for her, even if it did dress her down exponentially.
He didn't say a word about the way she nervously tugged on the sleeves of the jacket for the whole car ride, didn't try to intrude on her thoughts as she stared out of the window.
The restaurant was pretty and not quite as busy as she was worried it would be. He was even able to park right by the building. Christine was grateful for that, too. Even though the heels he had given her were short she was less than used to walking in them.
He opened her car door for her and offered her his arm. She was more than happy to take it. She thought that she probably leaned a bit too heavily on him, but he didn't complain about it at all as she stupidly tried to shuffle along at his side.
Erik talked to the hostess while Christine pulled nervously at the inside of his sleeve.
She was completely out of her comfort zone. She was pretty sure the dress alone cost more than her entire wardrobe and she had no idea how she was supposed to behave around such fancy people. It was incredibly intimidating and the thought that she could very easily embarrass him left her mortified.
Erik was perceptive. Or, at least, he seemed pretty intune with her. He squeezed her elbow gently when he noticed her fidgeting and the words that he murmured were always soothing.
He made it feel a little less overwhelming. He pulled out her chair for her and waited for her to get herself situated before he sat across from her, handing her one of the small, laminated menus.
"The menu is a little confusing," he said, leaning slightly over the table as he spoke to her. "The first time I came here I had to Google a lot of things - I don't understand why they can't just call mayonnaise mayonnaise. Thank God for modern technology. If you need help you can ask."
"Thanks," she mumbled, grateful when he didn't point out the redness in her cheeks.
There was a halfway shy back and forth as he helped her with the menu, leaning over the table and pointing at the dishes as he explained what they actually were to her, and Christine did her best to put the fact that there were no prices on the menu and it was probably really expensive out of her mind; if he couldn't afford it he wouldn't have brought her. For the first time, she didn't really feel guilty for letting herself be spoiled. Something about him put her at ease; he was obviously wealthier than she could have ever dreamed of, but he seemed pretty down to earth. He didn't make her feel like she was less than, or like she was somehow smaller than him just because her clothes had some holes in them and the windows in her apartment were painted shut.
"Do you like wine?" he asked as he gazed at the drink menu.
Christine frowned, shrugging one shoulder. "Sometimes," she answered. "But I'm technically underage."
"No one will care," he answered, closing the little leather menu and setting it aside. "I will take you out for a drink later this week, if you'd like. But I think I'd prefer both of us sober tonight."
She nodded, keeping one finger on the dish that she had decided on, afraid that she would lose it and make a fool out of herself when she couldn't find it again.
In the end, she didn't have to worry about it. Erik simply took the menu from her and ordered the dish that she had picked for her.
"I'm sorry," he said, stretching his arm across the table and taking her hand in his after the waitress walked away. "It's habit. If you want to order for yourself you're more than welcome to."
Christine shook her head. "I don't mind," she admitted. "I dunno if I could've even pronounced it."
The smile he gave her was soft. "I think you would have done just fine," he argued in good humor. His thumb stroked gently along the back of her hand. "We need to talk about some things, princess."
She felt her stomach drop and she couldn't help her frown. "Did I do something wrong?"
"Not at all," he assured her quickly. "No, you haven't even had a chance to do anything wrong. I've been enjoying your company very much."
"Oh," she answered, relieved. "Then what do we need to talk about?"
"Limits," he answered, his voice low and his eyes serious. "Things you like and things you don't. Things you want to try and things you absolutely don't."
"Limits," she repeated, looking down at their hands together on the table. "Like what?"
"Hmm," he said thoughtfully, leaning a little closer to her and dropping his voice. "Like if I were to reach under this table right now and finger you, would you like that or would you hate it?"
She stared at their entwined fingers on the table and swallowed hard when she felt his hand on her knee beneath the table. She wasn't even sure herself whether she had intentionally let her knees fall apart for him or not. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I never thought about it before."
His laugh was soft. "Fair enough, I suppose," he answered. "Will you at least tell me if something I do makes you uncomfortable?"
"Yeah," she said shakily.
One of his fingers was trailing along the inside of her knee and she could feel goosebumps forming. "Like this," he murmured. "Does this make you uncomfortable?"
"No," she answered, slightly nervous but afraid that if she said yes he would stop. "I don't - maybe one day I'd like to try that. Maybe."
"Maybe," he echoed, running his thumb infuriatingly slowly against her skin. "I guess we will just have to take it one thing at a time, then. If you really hate something I do, I do need you to tell me, princess."
"I will," she agreed, squirming in her seat. "I promise I will."
His eyes were intense as he stared at her and Christine honestly wasn't sure if she would make it through dinner. "I make it a habit to be tested after every partner," he said, his voice low and quiet. "And you are on birth control. If you prefer, I will still wear a condom. It's up to you, princess."
The rush of blood to her cheeks almost made her dizzy. "We're in public," she pointed out, her voice shaking.
"We are," he agreed, his smile small. "No one is listening."
"You don't have to," she answered quickly before she could lose her nerve, wishing more than anything that they were back at his penthouse. She wanted to be there, in his bedroom with the pocket change littering the top of the dresser, in his too-comfortable bed with the soft sheets and fluffy pillows. "I don't want you to."
"I'm glad," he answered warmly. "I don't want to either... but you are welcome to change your mind."
Christine was both relieved and disappointed when their food made it to the table. Relieved because it gave her something to stare at and something to do with her hands, but it would've been a lie if she said she didn't miss the warm weight of his hand on her knee.
She had never felt so impatient before in her life, and some part of her recognized that it had been exactly what he intended. It was difficult to be nervous when she was too busy pressing her legs together and trying to find some friction to alleviate the tension.
Christine had never felt like such a whore, and she had certainly never felt as shameless about it as she did just then. There was a knowing look in his eyes and if he would only touch her knee again she was pretty sure that she would break and lead his hand to exactly where she needed it.
Only he didn't touch her knee again. In fact, he kept his hands to himself far too well, watching her eat and sipping at the water he had ordered. "How are your classes going?" he asked absently.
"Okay," she answered, feeling like she could die. "I'm passing everything."
"I'm glad to hear that," he answered. "How much longer do you have?"
"Two years," she said, frowning at the change in conversation. "As long as I pass everything."
"I have no doubt that you will."
By the time they both finally finished their meals and he paid the bill that he refused to let her even glance at, Christine had reached the height of her impatience and when she took the arm he offered her, it was greedily.
"Is there anywhere else you'd like to go?" he murmured, his mouth near to her ear.
"Home," she answered impatiently. "I want to go home."
It wasn't quite dark yet when they reentered his apartment. It wasn't until that moment, walking into the huge penthouse, that she noticed how perfectly the windowed wall framed the sunset. She hadn't ever quite seen anything like it before and she paused, staring out the window and crossing her arms over her chest as he shuffled around behind her, hanging his own jacket and pushing his shoes off with his toes.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he asked after a long moment.
"Yeah," she said, looking at the red and purple sky one more time before she glanced at him. "The sunset is just really pretty. It didn't look like that down there."
He looked out the window, too, and paused. "It is," he agreed after a moment. "Sometimes I get too busy and I forget to appreciate things like that."
She bit the inside of her lip and pulled at the soft fabric of her jacket on her sleeve.
"What are you nervous about?"
"Everything," she admitted with a huff of a laugh.
His hands were warm on her shoulders. "We can watch it if you'd like," he said slowly. "I don't see much reason to rush anything... I'm not going to be upset with you if you want to take things slow, princess."
She stared at him closely, and she couldn't see anything but honesty in his eyes. She swallowed hard. "Will you please kiss me, Daddy?" she asked quietly.
It was almost like she didn't even need to ask, without a word he was leaning over her, kissing her lips gently. When he pulled away, she let out a shaky breath.
"I don't want to take it slow," she admitted quietly. "I think it's a good kind of nervous. It's like butterflies."
He kissed her again in just the same way, touching his lips to the tip of her nose. "Is there anything that you want to tell me before I take you upstairs, princess?"
She frowned at his question. "I don't think so," she answered, halfway confused.
One of his hands slid gently down her arm and his fingers closed around hers, giving it a gentle squeeze before he stepped around her, leading her toward the stairs.
The quiet made her nervous, but she wouldn't exactly call it awkward. If it weren't for the strange drop in her stomach she would have almost called it comfortable. He flipped on the light in his bedroom and pushed the door closed gently behind them.
"I'm going to undress you," he said softly, turning back toward her and tilting her jaw up with his thumbs so that he could look into her eyes. "I'm going to do it with the lights on. I'm going to see all of you and you have no camera to turn off. Are you sure that there's nothing you want to tell me, princess?"
"Oh," she whispered, the butterflies suddenly seeming to clench tightly in her stomach. She wasn't sure how to really say it, so she just frowned. "I cut," she said bluntly, not sure of any better way to put it.
"Yeah," he agreed, his thumbs brushing gently over her cheeks. "How often, sweetheart?"
"It was a relapse," she admitted on a wavering breath. "Every few weeks - I went a few months, once."
His kiss was soft and warm. "No more, Christine," he said slowly. "It's a new rule. No more cutting. I want you to call me when you have the urge. I don't care what time. Can you do that, princess?"
"I can try."
"Good girl," he murmured, kissing her again slowly, his fingers walking along her jaw. She hardly even noticed the way that he was walking her backwards. "I want you to sit down on the bed."
It was only half a moment later when she felt the edge of the mattress bump against the back of her thighs and without a second thought she obeyed him, sliding onto the bed, her heart seeming to thump a million miles a minute, thrashing violently against her ribcage. His eyes were serious and dark and she wanted nothing more than to pull him down to her again.
His hand was warm and his touch light against her knee, his thumb brushing rhythmically just at the edge of the pink skirt of her dress. "If you want me to stop at any point all you have to do is say it," he said seriously. "Will you stop me if it's too much, princess?"
"Yes, Daddy," she answered, halfway irritated by the way she still blushed every time she said the word.
He didn't acknowledge her blush at all; he simply framed her knees with his hands and started to push her skirt up. It didn't take long to reveal her ugly red scab and he paused, his thumb running along her skin just below it. After a moment, he was lowering himself to his knees at the bed's side, his head bending down and his lips brushing against the ugly mark so gently she could hardly even feel his kiss.
Christine could hardly stop the sigh that left her lips, and she certainly couldn't help the way her eyelids fluttered closed with his gentle touch.
"Did that hurt?"
"No," she sighed, blinking her eyes open and looking down at him.
His thumb traced along the long mark one more time. "Do I make it worse?"
Christine shook her head. "You make it better, actually," she admitted quietly. "I don't think about it as much as I used to."
"Good," he answered, actually sounding relieved. "Lift up your hips for me, sweetheart."
She planted her hands on the bed and did exactly as he asked, letting him bunch the skirt about her waist and pull the material from under her.
"Perfect," he murmured, pulling at her shrug until she finally caught on and pulled it off her own arms. She was grateful for how warm his hands were when he started to fiddle with the zipper on the back of her dress. Her bra's clasp took him a few moments longer to undo but he didn't mention how worn it was or point out the bent and beaten clasp and she felt herself relaxing with the realization. "Lift your arms for me, princess."
It was easy to obey him; his voice was warm, his hands were gentle, and she could read the desire clearly in his eyes. For the first time in her life, a man was staring at her and she didn't feel like he was seeking out every small flaw in her body; there was no mistaking that his gaze was one of admiration and not appraisal.
Wordlessly, his hand cupped her naked breast. "You are so pretty, Christine," he murmured. "I don't think I could tell you that enough."
The warmth she felt in her cheeks wasn't quite as embarrassing when his lips closed around her nipple. A thrill travelled straight up her spine when his tongue flicked against it and she felt herself jolt, her hands tangling in the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders out of pure instinct. "Daddy," she breathed in surprise and pleasure.
He hummed against her breast, pulling back slowly and circling her already hardened nipple with his thumb. "Can you lay back for me, sweetheart?"
Christine did exactly that, trying not to be embarrassed about the fact that her thighs were already starting to tremble. It really hadn't been that long, and she comforted herself with the fact that they had been practically teasing each other for months; of course she would be worked up easily.
He didn't seem to mind it anyway. He was wasting no time in pulling her underwear down and if she held her breath for a second and tried to calm her heart down, she could actually feel the tenseness in his fingers, too.
His palms pushed her thighs apart and he paused, his warm breath uneven against the inside of her leg. "Is this okay?"
"Please," she breathed, unable to think about anything other than the fact that she was pretty sure she was going to die if he didn't touch her soon.
It happened so quickly that she wasn't able to have a moment of doubt; she gasped at the sudden feeling of his tongue against her clit and it took her fighting against every instinct she had to keep from squeezing his head between her thighs; there was no question that he knew exactly what he was doing and for once, the thought made her grateful instead of self-conscious.
"Oh God," she moaned, hardly recognizing her own voice when her hands twisted in his hair, careful to avoid jostling his mask. His hands slid away from her thighs and she wondered if he felt just as impatient as she did when she felt him moving, starting in on the buttons of his shirt as his lips and tongue tortured her.
It wasn't until the last button was undone that he offered her some respite. He paused, resting his lips against her thigh for a moment. "I don't want you to cum yet, princess," he said, the words uneven. "Do you understand?"
"Yeah," she agreed breathlessly. "I won't, Daddy."
He hummed and she felt him shift. "Good girl," he murmured, seeming to know exactly what the words did to her. "You'll ask, won't you?"
"I'll ask first," she echoed.
"I want to hear you, princess," he said warmly. "Don't bite your lip."
She opened her mouth to answer him but the words were lost to a breathless moan when his lips closed around her clit again. The sound she made only made him hum, and she jolted at the sensation, closing her eyes and trying to concentrate on keeping her breath even to stave off the building pressure she felt.
Christine forced her eyes open to try to find some distraction and it wasn't until she looked down that she noticed the movement in his shoulder; he was touching himself, too, and the realization was almost enough to take her apart.
"Please," she breathed roughly, tugging at his hair with her hands.
"Please what, princess?" he asked against her skin.
"Please," she repeated weakly. "I need you, Daddy."
"You need me," his words were warm and almost amused as he finally pulled back to look at her. "How do you need me, princess?"
Her cheeks were bright red. She could feel the unbearable heat. "I need you inside of me," she whispered, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at him. "Please, Daddy."
He was moving, pushing his shirt off. "You do?"
"I do," she echoed. "So bad."
"How bad?" he murmured. "I want you to tell me, princess."
Christine swallowed nervously. "I might die."
His laugh was soft. "That would definitely be unfortunate," he said slowly. "Tell me again, sweetheart. How do you want me?"
"Inside of me," she repeated, staring at him.
Two of his fingers drew together and he swatted the inside of her thigh, just above her knee, just hard enough that she let out a squeak of surprise. "What do you say, princess?" he asked softly.
It only took her a second to find the word. "Please," she whispered. "Please, Daddy."
His hands pulled her closer to the edge of the bed and he moved to stand, pushing his pants the rest of the way down as he did. "Good girl," he said again in that same warm way that always made her shiver.
She stared at the rose tattoo on his hip, remembering her fascination when she saw it through the webcam the first time, back when he wouldn't even let her see his head, and she spread her thighs open for him as she felt him pressing closer to her.
He forced himself down, pressing just the head of his cock inside of her. She moaned in a quiet, needy way and when he groaned she was elated. "Inside of you, princess?" he asked, barely keeping his voice even.
"Please," she sobbed, pressing her hips toward him.
That was enough to break him. He pressed his way inside of her slowly, watching her face carefully as she whimpered at the sudden, warm, full sensation. "So good, princess," he groaned breathlessly as he pulled out just the slightest bit, rolling his hips against hers twice. "Is this how you wanted me, babygirl?"
"Yes, Daddy," she whimpered, her fingers twisting in his comforter.
He leaned over her, bracing his elbows at her sides as he rolled into her again and again. The angle was awkward, his knees pressed against the edge of the mattress and his feet planted firmly on the ground. She shifted, pressing her heels into his lower back as she forced herself closer to him.
"What do you say, princess?" he murmured.
"Thank you, Daddy," she groaned, her arms wrapping around his neck. "Th-thank you."
She clenched her muscles around him and he half-collapsed on her, pressing the unmasked half of his face against her slick throat as she rolled herself up and met his thrusts. He kissed and nipped along her pale skin, pulling away the slightest bit to suck a mark just above her collarbone.
He unwrapped her right arm from his neck, covering her hand with his. He drew her fingers over her throat, applying just the slightest amount of pressure, waiting for her whimper before he loosened it, dragging her hand lower. He cupped it around her breast, coaxing her fingers into tweaking her own nipple.
"You are my good, slutty little princess, aren't you?" he grunted. "Always so wet and willing for Daddy."
"Yes, Daddy," she whimpered. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. He kissed his way into her mouth, invading her with his tongue as she continued to pull at her own nipple with his guidance. She gasped into his mouth and he pulled away, coaxing her hand further and further down her body, dragging her fingers through her neat, trimmed curls and pressing her middle finger to her neglected clit, just above that space where they became one.
"Touch yourself," he instructed. "But don't forget to ask permission."
She mewled as she rolled her clit beneath her finger, attempting to match the pace of his thrusts. She quivered beneath him as he drove into her again and again, losing himself in her warmth. Her thighs trembled and her breath was uneven and struggling.
His hands found her shoulders, forcing her tightly against himself as he rolled into her desperately. He filled her, stretched her, and her body clung to him deliciously, intoxicatingly.
"Daddy, please," she finally cried, her eyes pressed closed.
"Please what, princess?" he gasped. "Tell me what you want."
"Please can I cum, please Daddy," she mewled.
"Cum for me, princess ."
Christine might have been embarrassed by how quickly it came on after his muttured permission but she was too desperate to be embarrassed; she made no attempt to muffle her cry as she shuddered, as her knees tightened against his hips all on their own.
She might have been embarrassed if it weren't for the fact that he followed her almost immediately, collapsing atop her with a groan as she felt the twitch of him and the instinctual, out-of-rhythm thrusts as he came deep inside of her.
He collapsed atop her and for a while, she let herself enjoy the closeness of it. She ran her hand over the lines of the tattoos on his arm and let her head fall back but she couldn't catch her breath and, eventually, she had to squirm.
"Daddy," she forced out, "you're crushing me."
When he moved it was with an unpleasant sound, heaving himself to the side and rolling onto his back on the bed beside her, his legs still halfway off of the edge. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, still catching his breath, too.
She tilted her head to look at him, and his smile was gentle.
"I've thought about that for a long time," he said softly, his pinky finger brushing against her wrist. "You need to pick a safe word."
Christine swallowed, pushing herself further up the mattress and finding herself relieved when he followed, laying back against the pillows and opening his arms to her. "A safe word?" she finally mumbled, settling gratefully against his sturdy chest.
"Mhm," he confirmed, squeezing her arm gently. "Something simple. Sometimes it helps to have something other than no... and in this lifestyle, no doesn't always mean no. I want you to think about it, sweetheart."
She sighed, pressing her ear to his warm chest. "It sounds complicated," she complained.
He only chuckled, his fingers tracing lightly across her shoulders. "It doesn't have to be," he answered, his hand falling flat on her back and pulling her close. "I'll be honest, there are a lot of things that I want to do to you, princess. Since you don't seem to have any idea what your limits are yet, it's pretty important."
A shiver went straight down her spine and she bit her lip, trying to ignore the sudden desire to throw herself back onto him. Even the simple implication turned her on and she thought that there might be something wrong with her; she enjoyed sex, but she had never had a particularly high libido. "Like what?" she whispered, her voice dry.
His hum was warm and his fingers trailed even lower, running against the small of her back. "I nearly choked you again," he answered thoughtfully. "There are a lot of things. I don't want to overwhelm you."
"I didn't mind," she confessed, turning her face in against his chest to try to hide the blush in her cheeks. "When you choked me... I think I liked it."
"That's very good to know," he answered easily. "But you still need a safe word."
She huffed. "What if I don't wanna say no but I need to breathe?"
"Hm," he hummed. "Yellow, green, red," he said slowly, tracing her bicep thoughtfully, leaving a line of goosebumps behind. "I don't think it would be a terrible idea."
She shivered and pressed as close as she could to him. "I want that one," she mumbled. "It's easy and I understand it."
"That's perfect, princess," he agreed easily.
"Daddy?"
"Hmm?"
"Can I sleep here tonight?" she whispered.
"Yeah," he sighed. "Of course. I'd prefer that too, princess... only if you sleep just like this, though."
"Like what?" she asked, lifting herself up slightly to look at him.
"Like this," he said warmly, his hand sliding down her back and burying itself between her thighs. He hummed at her squeak of surprise as the pad of his finger circled her clit thoughtfully. "Already?" he murmured, his hand sliding away from her as he shifted. "I felt you cum, princess. Are you that insatiable?"
Her cheeks flushed and she looked down at his chest. "I guess so," she mumbled.
He hummed again, his hand finding hers and guiding it down. He trailed her fingers against his chest, his stomach, along that thin line of hair until finally she felt his cock, only half-hard under her touch.
She bit the inside of her lip and wrapped her hand around him, tugging slowly as she watched his face. He let his head fall back against the pillows and closed his eyes as she worked, and she was almost grateful for it. She liked staring at him and she felt bad doing it - whatever it was that was under his mask, he was self-conscious about and she had the strangest suspicion that when she stared at him, he thought she was staring at the mask instead of his eyes, his lips, his strong jaw and thick hair.
"Can I please kiss you, Daddy?" she asked softly.
He half nodded and she leaned forward, doing exactly that as she twisted her hand, tugging a little harder as she felt him start to stiffen against her nervous palm.
She wasn't even sure why she was nervous. A hand job was hardly something she hadn't done before. Maybe it wasn't nervousness - maybe it was simply excitement that she wasn't used to.
Whatever it was, it was helpful, and when he shifted she lifted herself up to give him room to move.
He simply slid a pillow up against the wall and lifted himself to sit up, leaning back against it.
"Come here," he said gruffly, tugging her into his lap with a little more force than she was used to. It was only another moment before he grasped her wrist tightly, effectively stopping her movement. "Let go," he instructed, pulling her hand away when she obeyed him. "I'm going to choke you this time, princess," he murmured, his voice just a little more gentle. "Tell me your words."
"Red, yellow, green," she answered breathily.
"Good girl," he said warmly, lifting himself to kiss her. One hand on the small of her back guided her closer and her breath caught when she felt the head of his cock brush against her sensitive clit. "Use them if you need them. It's obviously going to take a bit to exhaust you."
This time there was no warning, just a sudden pressure as he pushed his hips up against hers and filled her completely. Christine couldn't hold back her moan as he did, nor could she help the way that she grabbed his shoulders to steady herself when she tumbled forward against his chest.
"That sound you make is gorgeous," he murmured, his heavy hand on her back guiding her down against him. "I want to hear you, princess."
"Oh, God," she moaned as he pressed up against her again.
"Mm," he hummed, his hand still guiding the subdued slide of her hips. "You're drenched, sweetheart. Can you feel how wet you are?"
"Yeah," she breathed, her nails digging against the skin of his shoulders as he rocked up against her again.
His hand slid up her back when he seemed confident enough that she would continue to follow the rhythm he set and he let his head lean back against the wall as he watched her. It was only a moment before he was brushing her hair back, his hands wrapping loosely around her throat as he pressed up against her hard.
Christine hardly got her shaky breath out before his hands tightened around her throat and out of instinct she grabbed his wrists tightly.
"Gorgeous," he murmured thoughtfully, watching her eyes. "God, I want to tie you up, babygirl. Would you like that? I'd like to make you keep those pretty little hands all to yourself."
She wasn't sure whether it was something that he saw in her eyes or the way her slick palms slid against his wrists, but suddenly he released her throat.
"Color," he demanded.
Christine let out half a cough as she took a gasping breath. "Green."
As though nothing had even happened, his hands tightened around her throat again and her hands found his wrists.
She could feel heat in her face and for a moment, just a second, she was actually so lightheaded that she thought she might pass out. It was just there, at the peak of it, that he actually let go of her throat. The rut of her hips faltered with her dizzy headrush but he didn't seem to mind; instead of scolding her his hands found her hips, forcing her to keep the same pace as she struggled to catch her breath.
"You really do like that, don't you?" he murmured, his voice low. "You feel so good, princess. So wet and tight. You're already close, aren't you?"
"Yeah," she admitted, the word accompanied by a dry cough.
He moved suddenly, one hand on her back as he leaned into her, guiding her until she was trapped under him, their feet left up by the now untidy stack of pillows. His thrusts were steady and deep, and Christine drew her knees up all on her own, wanting to feel him as deeply as she could.
"Fuck," he breathed as she clenched her muscles again, one hand forcing its way between them as he rubbed roughly at her clit.
Christine thought she might like this Erik a little more; rougher, needier, clumsy, she felt the whine building in the back of her throat before the sound left her mouth and his hand started to move just a little faster between them.
"No," he said breathlessly. "The answer is no, sweetheart. Don't cum."
She shivered, digging her nails into his back as she arched her hips toward him desperately, pushing back against his rough thrusts and warm hand.
"No," he repeated, circling her clit quickly with his finger.
She thought she might cry and when he was suddenly pulling out of her, she almost did. Her thighs were trembling, her heart was racing, and his hand left her clit to grab her hand, drawing it back to his cock as he wrapped her fingers around it right along with his.
He forced the pull of her hand once, twice, five times and when he shuddered and she felt the warm pool of his orgasm against her lower stomach, she stared down at her hand wrapped around him blankly, trying to ignore the tremble in her legs and the desperate tears she felt pricking at her eyes.
"Tell me," he said after a long moment. "What do you want, princess?"
"I want to cum," she breathed.
He leaned lower, kissing her gently. "What do you say?"
"Please," she whispered. "Please I want to cum, Daddy."
He settled beside her on the bed and his hand nuzzled between her thighs. His breath was still uneven as he rolled her clit gently under his calloused finger. "I still want you to ask," he said softly. "Can you do that, princess?"
"Yeah," she breathed, exhausted already.
Every time that she felt it building again, he would move his hand away, and she was so desperate that she actually felt a tear escape.
"Daddy, please," she whispered, her voice rough and dry. "Please, this is torture."
He hummed and his hand shifted. Two fingers slipped easily inside of her and she felt him curve them, rubbing slow but steady circles against her clit with his thumb. "You can cum, sweetheart," he murmured gently. "I won't do it again. You are such a good girl."
By the time she finally did, she was utterly exhausted. Nearly too exhausted to do anything other than sigh in relief and let her legs collapse back against the bed. She felt incredibly heavy, like if she just closed her eyes she could sleep for a week.
His kiss to her temple was slow and gentle. "Are you thirsty?" he asked, his voice low and soothing.
Christine forced herself to nod, too exhausted to actually move or speak.
"I'm going to go get you a glass of water," he said softly. "A washcloth. Are you okay for a second, princess?"
"Yeah," she forced out. "I'm okay."
He kissed her lips gently and she kissed him back without even opening her eyes.
She couldn't help but think that she dozed off because the next thing she knew, she was jolted awake by something warm and damp against her lower stomach. She blinked her eyes open to find Erik leaning over her, wiping at the sticky spot on her skin with a white washcloth.
"Sorry," he murmured, dipping the washcloth down between her legs and glancing up at her when she let out a slightly distressed sound when he brushed against her sore clit. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said, brushing the washcloth gently against each of her thighs before he set it aside on the nightstand. "Can you sit up, princess? I brought you water."
For that, she forced herself up. Her hands were trembling and she used both to hold the glass he offered her, taking a deep drink.
He didn't take it until she held it out to him, and he set it aside gently. "Do you want to lay down for a little bit?"
"Yeah," she agreed, wiping at her mouth with the back of her wrist. "I think that would be a good idea."
He pulled the sheets back beside where she was sitting. "Go ahead, sweetheart," he said. "I'm just going to turn the lights out."
He waited until she was settled in with her feet under the sheets to turn the lights out and she was glad that he did. Her tired eyes couldn't even make out shapes in the dark. The only reason she even knew that he joined her was the feeling of the sheets shifting and the heavy dip of the mattress.
He leaned over top of her to pull the sheets up and Christine sighed, shyly worming herself into his arms and settling against his sturdy chest.
His kiss in her hair was long. "I want to take you out tomorrow," he murmured. "To do something fun and a little touristy. Would you like that?"
"It's spring break," she reminded him.
His arm wrapped around her back and he held her tightly. "Do you not want anyone you know to see us together?"
"Huh?" she asked, pulling back slightly with a frown. "'Course not. I want everyone to see us together. Everything's just probably gonna be really crowded."
"It's Chicago, everything is always crowded," he pointed out, his laugh light. "Come here, princess. We can talk about it tomorrow, okay?"
"Yeah," she murmured, settling back against his chest and letting her heavy eyelids close as his fingers traced the back of her neck gently.