Who: Alyssa and Christian. What: Their Thursday get together. When: 1/23. Where: Christian's, then Alyssa's. Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for sexin'. Status: Complete!
Christian was both exhausted and irritated at this point. He’d come home from work and decided to take a nap before Alyssa arrived - though he hadn’t bloody well expected anything on his pillow when he’d woken. Certainly not a cat o’ nine tails, of all things, of good leather by the look. He’d even woken holding the damned thing.
His dreams had been, well. His back ached, and he’d have to ask Alyssa if there were scars. Hopefully she’d show up soon.
Alyssa showed up promptly at eight, ringing the bell on the dot. She was wearing a pretty blue dress, her hair swept into a high ponytail. She was hoping he’d agree to the plan that she’d hatched on the way over, but wasn’t going to hold her breath.
Christian was still holding the cat o’nine tails when he opened the door. “Hello. Come in, would you?” He realized belatedly what he was holding and dropped his hand behind his back like it was hot. “Shit. Just woke up. Bit ... foggy.” And in pain, but they’d talk about that with the bloody door closed, hopefully. “Could you do something for me?”
Alyssa couldn’t help but giggle when she saw the toy. “Excited to see me in your sleep?” But she stopped teasing when she saw that he looked genuinely upset. “Of course I can, what’s the matter?”
Christian set the whip down, turning around. He lifted his shirt. “Could you tell me if there are scars on my back?” He’d explain after he got an answer. He’d either be relieved or annoyed, depending on her reply.
She lifted his shirt a bit higher. “No, no scars, but it’s a bit red. Why, what happened?” She ran her fingers over it, wondering if a massage would help. Experimentally, she rubbed lightly.
“That’s something.” Christian sighed. “One of my dreams. I, erm. One of the dreams was.” God, she’d just laugh at him. “One of the dreams just happened, and in it, I met a woman who was my first and only domme.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” Alyssa shrugged. “You had to figure out you don’t like subbing from somewhere. Someone had to give you the idea to spank other people. Did you get the cat from your dreams?”
“Yes.” This was the awkward part. “Her husband might’ve used it to beat the hell out of me when he caught us together.”
“Well, husbands aren’t usually fond of the idea of their wives sleeping with gorgeous men. I’m guessing she was older?” If she had daddy issues, Christian had mother ones, and she was guessing in the dreams it wasn’t any different. Instead of teasing, she was lightly massaging his back, under his shoulderblades.
“Yeah.” Christian was genuinely surprised she wasn’t taking the piss out of him. He would have. “Yeah, I was eighteen or so and she was maybe forty. Still sexy, though. Controlling and demanding, but in that way where you know it’s not a choice.” He’d been fascinated by her - at least, the little no-longer-mute had been. “I’d only been speaking for a few years when I met her. Was mute until I was a teenager.”
“After what you went through as a child, I don’t blame you,” Alyssa murmured. She pressed a kiss to his back, smiling as she moved to stand in front of him. “Would a change of scenery help you shake the dream? How about we go to my place, I’ll make you something to eat and you can use that on me.”
Christian’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you trying to toss me to the wolves? I don’t particularly fancy your mum trying to get at me with God knows what.” He had to wonder what Nancy Hamilton was actually like. His (non-Dreamy) dreams had cast her as some sort of plump grandmotherly looking woman who grabbed him a lot and basically acted like a fluffer until he’d impregnated Alyssa. Terrifying stuff.
Alyssa laughed and shook her head. “Do you think I’d invite you over while Mum was around? No, she left for Cabo this morning. It’s just me, myself, and I for the next two weeks. Silly man.”
That didn’t sit well with him. “Presumably she left you food money.” Christian sniffed. He knew fundamentally it wasn’t fair to hate someone he’d never met, but he did.
“I have a credit card that links up to her account in my name,” Alyssa smiled. She thought it was cute how protective he was of her, then immediately beat herself up for thinking anything Christian Grey did was cute.
“Good. Then I suppose it’d be all right.” Christian didn’t mind leaving his place, he just didn’t want to walk straight into the bloody lion’s den. “Did you drive?” He went back into the kitchen to pick up the cat. Hopefully she didn’t want to take public transport if he was bringing this along.
“Um. Not as such. I don’t drive here.” She bit her lower lip. “Now that you’ve gotten something from the dreams, you probably won’t think I’m as mental if I show you what I got.”
“What’ve you gotten, a flying car?” Christian would be outright chuffed at that. He knew people got things from their dreams - obviously, he was even more of a believer in that now - but what sort of transport could she get? “If you got a broom, I will laugh so hard I may wet myself.”
That made Alyssa roll her eyes. “No.” She took her vial of holy water out of her purse, holding it aloft. “This is what I got from my dreams. It’s a sacred vial, and any water that enters it automatically becomes holy. Quite handy when one’s hunting demons. But it also lets me do this.”
Turning to the nearest door, she splashed it three times. A circular sigil began to glow on the door until the whole thing illuminated. “Open it.”
Christian blinked. The whole sign ... thing ... made him a trifle uncomfortable, in truth, but only because remnants of his long-gone Catholic boyhood made him think there’d be Hell on the other side of the door.
He reluctantly opened the door, then sighed, seeing a nondescript living room on the other side. “Well, it isn’t Hell yet.” He crossed himself, ostensibly as a joke, but more than a little for real.
Alyssa’s eyes were going to be on permanent roll at this rate. “Of course it’s not, it’s my house. I shoot people and they go to hell after they’re not possessed anymore. This is teleportation.” She took his hand and started to walk with him toward the living room.
“Well, obviously, but I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t play a prank,” Christian shot back. “Mockery doesn’t become you at all, Miss Hamilton.” He let her take his hand, despite her sassing him, looking around at the place in spite of himself.
She chuckled a little to herself. “I’m sorry, Mister Grey, for being so terribly brash.” Shutting the door behind her, she toed off her shoes and made herself at home in her own kitchen. “I was going to make myself shepherd's pie for dinner tonight, want to stay? I’ve got Guinness.” As if that were the universal Irishman lure.
“Is it proper shepherd’s pie?” He’d have guessed she knew the difference between cottage and shepherd’s pie, but he felt like being a prat.
“Obviously. Got some lamb the same place I got those steaks last time I cooked for you.” She took out two cans of Guinness, grabbing glasses as she popped the tops. She was careful as she poured Christian his, being sure to tilt the glass a bit to let the liquid settle, only righting it to make room for the foamy head at the last minute. “There you are,” she murmured, moving to get things out of the fridge.
He nodded a thank you, going to sit down in what looked like a well-loved armchair. He knew better than to ask to help; he’d sooner set the kitchen on fire. Alyssa did her own thing. “Irishmen grow up on lamb, you know,” he said. “Especially if you live in rural areas, but even in the city, it’s the most popular meat.”
“It’s wonderful. They don’t eat a lot of it here in the States, which is why I like that butcher.” She’d had the guy grind the lamb for her anyway, so all she had left to do was cut veg and make mashed potatoes. The potatoes started first, and she hummed a little to herself as she cooked, sipping her own Guinness from time to time. “Feeling any better, Mister Grey?”
“Oh, I’m mostly all right. These dreams were less horrible and more just odd.” Christian watched her. “The bit about finding a family - that was all right. One of the doctors at the emergency room where they took little me adopted me. Had a sweet sister and a sort of creepy brother, and grew up decently normally. Only after that came the dream about Elena. Happened while I was at Harvard, apparently.” Harvard - not a bad school, but he was perfectly happy having gone to Trinity, thank you.
“You’re a smarty pants in the dreams too, eh?” Alyssa smiled at him, almost proud of the fact that her friend was intelligent. “I’m glad you had someone to look after you.” She felt like she helped a little bit in this world, something that made her smile.
After a few more minutes, everything was in the stove, and she let down her hair. “All right, that just has to cook for a few hours. Want the grand tour?”
“A few hours? Slow oven?” Christian got up, still holding his Guinness. “All right, I suppose. Lead me into whatever secret torture chamber your mum’s kitted out in the garage.”
“No, I just don’t want the mash to burn, you silly man.” She took his hand and didn’t bother to show him the living room. He’d been in it. “There’s a study on your right, Mum uses it for work when she can’t get to the office.” It was kitted out with a lot of journals from various sciences that Alyssa didn’t know much about. “And here’s my room, the one furthest from Mum’s.”
Alyssa’s room was surprisingly masculine, and he said as much. “Never would have expected this out of you.” It wasn’t a bad thing, but he’d have expected things to be light and airy. Not necessarily the uber-feminine colours, but delicate furniture, maybe more white instead of blues and mahogany. It irritated him that as much as he could divine about her, there was much more he apparently could not.
“Oh?” She cocked her head to the side and chuckled. “What, did you expect more ruffles? I like feminine clothes, sure, but dark blues make me feel safe. I always feel cosy in here, unless I’ve just had one of the dreams.”
“More white.” She had such a mad life that it would have made more sense for her to make an airy-fairy sanctum where she could escape it, not a fairly severe place where it had to remind her of the insanity. “More than ever I’m convinced you need a tropical getaway. If it’s possible without actually tanning.”
“Or without going to the tropics,” she teased. “I’m afraid I don’t know about this ‘tanning’ of which you speak.” She usually quipped that she was so pale, she went out into the sun and promptly caught fire. “There’s a bathroom beyond there that connects to the guest room where my ex used to sleep.” Alyssa was proud that her voice didn’t catch, and she didn’t sound as guilty as she felt. “Then across from there’s the other guest room.”
She opened the door to the last room in the hall. “And here’s the master bedroom.” She mostly wanted Christian to laugh.
“Wait, your room was connected to the room where your ex slept?” Christian’s eyebrows were reaching heights hitherto unknown. “Good lord, your mum is awful.”
When he saw the master bedroom, though, he knew his face just sort of evolved into a plastic horror mask. “Bloody fucking hell, what is all this?” There was an enormous trophy case, and at the bottom shelf he was fairly certain he saw a huge sex toy, in its packaging, that said Whale Penis on the top. How did one know, really?
“It was nice while we were together?” Alyssa chuckled and looked at Christian’s face as he looked over her mother’s ‘trophies’. “I’m afraid of if they actually molded it based on a real thing. The horse one too.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Christian shook his head. “That is thoroughly disturbing. Even for this house.”
“Well, come on, then, let’s shut this back up.” Alyssa smiled at him as she shut the door. “So. Has that thing ever been used on someone besides yourself?”
“Don’t think so, no. Unless she used it on someone she was seeing besides me.” He felt a twinge of jealousy and shook his head. “I have to imagine she had more than just little eighteen-year-old me on a string. Even though that part of me doesn’t want to admit it.” Him ... or dream him. Whoever.
“May I distract you?” Alyssa looked up at him and wondered if he had any idea she was asking him to use it on her. Probably not; he was boyishly daft sometimes.
She’d asked him earlier. “Is there time, or will you burn the bloody house down?” It was practical, but also slightly vain, yes; he liked it when she got so worked up she needed recovery time.
“There’s a few hours. How long do you need?” She looked up at him, biting her lower lip and doing her best to look entirely innocent of the whole endeavour.
“A few hours ought to be enough.” He’d have bloodied her good if he used the entire two hours. Even he wasn’t that rough. “How much pain can you take, lass?”
“I don’t know yet.” She bit her lip harder when he called her lass, giggling when she felt goosebumps raise on her arms. “I expect we’ll find out, yeah? I’ve. Not done this before?”
“Oh, really.” Christian hadn’t done it much, but enough. “Well, let’s go into the room you’d like - please not your mum’s, that’s a mood killer right then and there, my penis can’t compete with the whale’s.”
That made Alyssa laugh. “Yours is the largest I’d ever go, love. I’m slight in the hips.” She walked into the second guest room - the one Damian hadn’t slept in, and turned around so her back was to him. “Bit of help, please?”
That would be much better. Christian followed her wordlessly, reaching up to unzip her dress. She really did have lovely skin. It was heady to think that he’d be the one to mark it up.
She wiggled out of the dress, letting it drop to the floor. She didn’t remove her bra or her panties, knowing he’d want to remove them himself. “You remember my safe word, I expect?” Just in case Christian surprised her and was overly aggressive.
“Yes.” He did. He didn’t actually want to fuck this up, to a degree that surprised him. He was gentle with her bra; sometimes they had wires in them and even he wouldn’t want to get stabbed with one of those.
Her pants, though, he ripped. Because they were wispy little things, and he could.
She gasped when she heard the tearing sound, leaning backward against him and closing her eyes. She trusted him on a level that was absurd considering how little they knew each other. Wetting her lower lip, she turned to face him. “I trust you. Do anything, I’ll tell you when.”
That actually stopped him for a moment. He wanted to tell her she was being daft - not to trust him, because he was a special kind of weird and damaged; being in his presence for too long made one reckless and cynical and generally a prat. But on some level, he understood. And she didn’t need lecturing right now.
He couldn’t entirely help himself, needing to show even one tiny ounce of warmth, and kissed her neck, gently and lightly, almost a butterfly landing and leaving. And then he reached his hands down and shoved her forward, onto her stomach on the bed.
The kiss made her smile and nearly giggle, but the push took her breath away. She knew he was still fully clothed, and it made her arch backward into him, enjoying the sheer lack of control. Murmuring his name, she turned her head to look at him.
Christian was taking off his shirt, setting it on the nearest table, looking at the naked woman waiting for him. He could really get used to this. This relationship, as weird as it was, suited him.
Wait. Was this a relationship? He didn’t love her. And yet she was much more than some kind of sex toy.
He shook it off, going to take the hand towels from the bathroom to tie her hands. Getting soft, you are.
Alyssa didn’t move. She didn’t look up, or tease him, or sit on the bed impatiently. Instead, she lay very still, ignoring the flush in her cheeks that was spreading down her back and her arms. She did trust him, but she’d not meant to tell him as such.
He came back and made sure her hands were tightly tied, taking his time to run fingers down her back, waking up every cell in her body. She gave such lovely responses when he touched her just so, and he’d begun to learn her spots. He wanted her pleasantly warm and fuzzy before he went to get the cat. Watching her and listening to her was making it hard to keep trousers on, so he tried to undo them with one hand.
She couldn’t help it; he knew exactly where to touch her by then. They’d already expanded to Thursdays as well as Tuesday shagging sessions, and Alyssa had found herself looking forward to the moments where they’d just sit and take the piss out of each other just as much as the times he made her incoherent during sex.
Eventually he managed to get his kit off in between moments of winding her up, so when he let fly with the cat, he knew that her whimpering was going to get him going, too. They fed off each other - their sexual chemistry was about as good as he’d found in a lot of years - and he knew that as much as she might mock him, she got off on it, too.
The first strike against her bottom sent her face first into the sheets, gasping quietly. It hurt, but not in the way cutting her hands or spraining an ankle hurt. It hurt in the way that went straight between her legs and made her arch back into Christian’s touch. She could tell he’d taken his trousers off, and she leaned back into him as much as she could, rocking her hips slightly. It wasn’t anything she’d ever reveal, but she felt more like her old self when she was with him.
It amused him that a girl who looked so preternaturally innocent could be anything but. She wasn’t the sort to beat around anything, but the fact she - the independent, the strictly ballsy - would let him basically beat on her - was a mark of confidence he didn’t frankly feel worthy to have. So he obeyed her wishes, letting another one fly, wondering what the bruises would look like.
Crying out, Alyssa arched her back and curled her toes. The pain ebbed away to a dull ache, a dull ache that made the sharp throbbing in her groin come back double. She loved that Christian didn’t treat her like she was a fragile doll, or a little girl.
And suddenly Alyssa realized why she was smitten with Christian. She felt a little twinge of guilt that she was smitten at all, but realizing why helped. He treated her like a peer. Not a child, or a prize to be locked away. He treated her like she was equal to him, and it was thrilling.
He let fly again and again, six times in all, until he could see the red marks start to form on her back and the top part of her arse. There was a fine line between abuse and BDSM, and he didn’t want anyone drawing conclusions. “Your pretty little bum is so red,” he commented, amused, but also satisfied. He dropped the cat, heading toward the bed. “I hope you can sit down.” Though she wouldn’t be able to if he had his way.
Curling her toes, Alyssa tossed her head and looked back at him. If he thought she wasn’t enjoying herself, her face displayed the contrary. There was only want in her eyes, and she’d have said so if she could think. Something about the way Christian talked to her left her breathless. Well. In bed. Arousal dulled her normally sharp tongue.
He’d made sure to carry a condom pretty much at all times since meeting Alyssa, and he made use of it now. Once he was ready, he knelt behind her, pushing her up the bed a bit so she was kneeling, though her arms were still tied. Figuring she’d scream the safeword if it got to that point, Christian angled up her hips and pushed inside, knowing she liked it just as rough as he did.
She did scream, but it was unintelligible and grateful sounding. Pushing back into him with her hips, she turned her head and met his eyes as best she could. Any other man she knew would’ve been tentative, leaving her demanding he go harder, faster - but not Christian. He never underestimated her, even when tears were streaming down her face.
If she wanted to stop him, all she had to do was scream one word, and he didn’t think she’d have any trouble doing that. And in truth, he fucking loved when she got like this - needy and grateful and strong enough to let him control her, and trust him. Christian fucked her as hard as he ever had, trying to see how far he could push her.
It wasn’t a matter of wanting to say her safe word, because she didn’t. It was a matter of not letting him know how much she liked this, liked him. Her fingers flexed around her bonds and she simply let go of trying to hold her head up. Instead she cried out into the mattress, muffling herself, hoping he wouldn’t think less of her for letting go entirely. She looked wrecked because she was, in the best way.
He would have thought less of her once upon a time, but now it was routine. Well. Not routine. But she tried so hard to be normal, and screaming one’s brains out during orgasm was refreshingly normal as could be. Besides, the sheer power-trip of the scenario got him off in a huge way. She was even making him louder - a few minutes later, he was coming and sweating and cursing as he watched her.
When he pulled out of her, Alyssa could feel her legs still trembling. She knew her makeup was probably a wreck; the tears in her eyes had long since messed up her mascara and most of her lipstick had transferred to the duvet. “That was ...” She trailed off for a moment before laughing a little. “Dear god, can it always be like that?”
It had been damned good for him too, frankly. “If I have my way,” Christian finally replied, trying to get his breath. He stood up, stretching, taking off the condom. “Lav’s back that way, right?” He didn’t want to talk; he might say something stupid he’d regret.
“Yeah,” she murmured, rolling onto her side. “Will you get my hands before you go?” Her blue eyes met his, and she closed them before he could see anything she wanted to say. Sometimes it seemed like Christian could see right through her.
“Yeah.” He’d almost forgotten. He went right up and undid one knot, then the other, leaving the room before he could say anything too silly. “I think I smell mash,” he did call from the other room.
“Yeah,” she agreed, moving to put on a robe from her bedroom and tottering into the kitchen on wobbly legs. She moved to check on the shepherd’s pie, taking it out and letting it cool before going to the bathroom that connected to her bedroom to take off her makeup. It was messed up anyway, and it wasn’t like she was trying to impress Christian.
Christian calmed himself down and cleaned up, going back out into the main room. “Smells brilliant,” he said casually. He couldn’t help but smirk. “Can you even walk?”
She smiled at him, bare faced for the first time in his presence. “Barely, you bastard. You may have to put it on plates. I’ll probably have to eat on my stomach.” She couldn’t help herself, and moved closer to him, tiptoeing up and kissing him lightly.
“Poor lass.” Christian was smirking harder. “You did ask for it.”
“I know, and it was worth it.” She beeped his nose, grinning. “You’re cute when you’re all proud of yourself.”
Christian emitted a strangled noise when she beeped his noise. “Oi. Stop. Go lie down, I’ll put a plate in front of you, you tramp.”
That made Alyssa giggle, and she turned around to lift up her robe. “What’s the damage like, anyway?”
Christian looked and had to laugh. “It’s pretty damned red.” He pinched her bum one more time before going to get a plate for her, mostly pleased, but slightly scared.