My Little Lost Christian

Christian stares at me as if the request I just made was in a language he had never heard. I hold my breath. I've given him his freedom so my request is just that...a request. And not an order. And deep down I know I shouldn't have asked it and don't deserve it. But I've convinced myself that maybe this is the way to heal him. He's right. I've taught him how to fuck. And in the process I have taught him how to close himself off to love, affection, warmth...and the fear of losing all three. It's worked for me and I hoped it would work for him.

Only now I realize...it's not working for either of us. It's too late for me...but maybe I can show him how it could be. Maybe there will be a time in his life when someone else can show him real love...and I do want him to be open to it. My head is a vast sea of years of thought as he just stares at me, weighing the depth of what he has just heard. My hands still cup his face as I watch his eyes slowly close. He inhales as he reaches his hands over mine and pulls them from his face until they rest at my sides. His eyes open and I brace myself for his rejection. I see his gnawing at the inside of his mouth. Christian's only evidence of anxiety and I so rarely catch him doing it.

"Lay down..." He whispers to me and it doesn't sound like a request. He is trying on a commanding voice but I sense the shakiness beneath it. I slowly move beside him and turn until I can sit next to him on the edge if the bed. He turns his gaze to me shortly before I lay back on the bed, the softness of the sheets enveloping me. He turns and watches me as I settle into them. He stands and turns until he is before me at the edge of the bed, standing against the mattress between my parted knees. His eyes trail slowly and painfully over my body, completely exposed and laid out for him. I spread my legs wider and can feel how wet I am as the cool air connects with me. I know he sees it, too, because once my legs part he can't take his eyes off of them. I see his lips gape slightly and his body stiffens...his cock rising like a puppet between us. He lifts his eyes back to mine and I meet them, until I become aware that he has taken a hold of his cock and is stroking it slowly for me. I can't help but stare. Since the first time I watched him get himself off it's become my favorite thing to see and he knows it. I lift my head slightly to see and I know he's performing for me. His breathing quickens as his fist pumps slightly harder. He moves his tightly closed fingers from base to tip until his thumb runs over the moist head of his cock and expertly spreads his fluid onto his shaft.

Without knowing it my fingers have found my clit and I'm furiously circling it's swollen crest as he turns me on more than I could have imagined. I'm soaking wet and my fingers play at my opening without entering myself. That's for him. His eyes watch as I play and our staggered breathing fills the room. He drops his knees onto the mattress and leans over me, his hands framing my face as we simultaneously slide further into the bed, reading each other's minds. I stare into his grey eyes, my fingers still teasing and pulling desperately.

Then he knocks the wind out of me. With no warning from those deep grey eyes...not so much as a blink...he is buried completely inside of me. I scream out beneath him and my hands instinctively grab his shoulders. He pounds full on and presses his hips hard against me as if he means to push me through the mattress. I can't breathe. As wet as I am and as often as Christian Grey had been buried deep in my belly it still takes an adjustment.  And this quick assault is almost more than my body or mind can handle.  Just as quickly as he entered my sex he withdraws completely, a stinging uncomfortable feeling that makes me cry out again. And he is bracing himself in his elbows for what I know will be an onslaught.

"No, Christian..."

I mutter through haggard and frightened breath, fully aware that if he wants to brutally force fuck me he has every right. But I need him to try. He furrows his brow in confusion, not defiance. He catches his breath just as I feel the tip of his cock run slowly against my aching clit.

"You don't want this?" He asks, half teasing and half rejected. I reach a shaky hand up and smooth the hair on his forehead that hangs slightly in his eyes.

"I want you more than you can imagine." I rock my hips slightly against him to echo my sentiment as I continue carefully. "But I don't just want you to fuck, Christian. I want you to try. Try to think about how you'd do this with me if..." I can't finish. I don't know how to. My mind is betraying me because I can't use the words. They are foreign to me. 

Like you love me, I think. Touch me like you love me. Like I want you to love me. Like this is forever. Like I love you. My eyes are begging him. I know he knows.

"If I loved you." 

He finishes my thought in a moment of immaculate relief. And I can't confirm his response but I can tell from the way he is looking at me that I don't have to. I feel my eyes start to swell and I fight against it with all I have. I can barely speak but I force myself to.

"Yes, Christian. And like I love you." My voice is small and frail and unfamiliar to me. Does he know how I feel? What I have fought against feeling since I first saw him? What I know has no place in his promising young life? Why I have controlled him and used him and confused him? I hate myself for the lie of omission.

He doesn't speak again but slowly eases down into of me. It's almost more than I can stand. His arms slide up until they are beside my face and planted firmly in the sheets. He turns a palm upward and snakes it under my head until it rests beneath me, playing softly in my still wet hair. He lifts my head slightly as he lowers his own. Our foreheads meet and our breathing is collectively shallow and unsure. I fight the urge again to tell him how I feel. And I can sense the moment in time where it would be appropriate or even reciprocated slipping through my fingers. I can't bring myself to do it. I feel a tear betray me and slip down into my hair. Christian lowers his mouth to mine and slowly, gently, kisses my mouth. It's intoxicating and I lose all my senses. There is nothing crushing...no pulsing tongues, no scraping teeth. Just the wet warmth of his lips on mine. His tongue slips over my lips and eases into my mouth for only a moment, tasting me as my own tongue flicks softly against it. He moans gently into my mouth and I feel it throughout me. I have never been kissed like this. I'm lost in his mouth as I feel the tip of his cock gently ease into me. A far cry from the punishing thrust earlier. Just the tip sits inside my warmth and our hips both slightly rock to allow him to sink deeper into me. 

I'm crying beneath him and I wonder if he knows. I feel like a virgin somehow. I've never been handled gently in the hands of a man. That's why I've learned to control them, to call the shots. Not to trust them. This is entirely different. I'm amazed that his body has so quickly become capable.

He's buried in me now. The muscle tone in his hips pressed squarely into my own and he twists gently and seductively allowing his cock to swell and twitch inside me. Without the constant thrusting of our usual fucking I can actually feel every pulse of his length and it's just too much. I choke on his name in a wholly unattractive utterance as I can't control my first orgasm. My body clenches around him over and over and he hums into my mouth as he feels it. I shudder and shake violently as I can feel the wetness of my own arousal seeping from me and onto the bed. I think it's over but I convulse once more as he starts to move inside of me again. Quicker now but still with an erotic pace that spells my undoing. He lifts his head to watch me as his free hand moves between us and strokes my throbbing clit. It's so swollen and sensitive I cry out as his fingers pinch and roll it.

"Come for me. Again." He commands, softly but with no hint of request. I shudder again and toss my head side to side, unsure if I can withstand another orgasm so strong. 

"Christian....oh God...oh please...I can't...oh..." My voice begs and pleads as I feel it building in me. I scream out his name as I climax again and he moves in and out of me, my body clenching his hard cock and begging it to stay. He purrs at me to keep going as I completely come undone beneath him...muttering senselessly and thrashing as my legs shake and my eyes roll back. I feel myself leaking again and it almost feel like I'm peeing as he slides precisely in and out. He looks down to watch. I'm absolutely lost in him. I feel it subsiding as he moves his cock in and out, and I can tell by his breath and his achingly strong pulsing in my depths that he is so close to filling me. My body begs him for it. To feel him release and fill me full of his hot come. He tenses and watches me. My mouth hangs open, unable still to form words. He presses hard against me and moans through gritted teeth. I know his signals. My eyes spill as I watch him.

"That's right, Christian.  Love me. Let me help you. Let me save you."

He closes his eyes and just as I expect to feel my insides heat with his orgasm, I feel an aching void instead. He slips easily out of me, leaving my body gaping and begging for him.

I shudder violently at the loss and blink hard against the reality of it. I wonder what his intentions are, but all too quickly he is confirming my worst case scenario. 

He is off of the bed, casually watching me continue to come down, still unable to gain control of my extremities or speak intelligibly. Christian, however, is a picture of calm, cool, collection. He casually runs his hands through his hair amazingly able to make it look brushed in just an instant. He turns from me to find the jeans he had slung over a nearby chaise lounge and easily steps into them, not bothering to clean himself up as he softens enough to close his jeans and let them hang off his slim hips. He reaches for his flannel and turns back to me, eyeing me for a hint of how I may be feeling as he pulls it over his arms and begins buttoning it up slowly. 

And he's done it. He's shown me what he is capable of. Completely undoing me while maintaining control of his own body. In a way I'm sure I never would have been able to do. I know he's proud of himself, I can smell it on him. My head is a cloud of emotions...rejection, loneliness, and slowly...anger. I finally manage to sit up in bed and pull the sheets around me protectively. Suddenly I am ashamed of my body, and doubting my ability to turn him on. That's new.

He checks in his jean pocket for his wallet and produces it, thumbing through it and easing it back into his pocket. I notice his bare feet and remember picking him up from his apartment before letting him get shoes. He seems unphased by it. He leans over my body and for the first time since knowing him I almost flinch...wondering if maybe he means to hit me. He doesn't. His hands are still fixing a button as he gently places a kiss on my forehead. I close my eyes to it, I know what's coming.  He leans down and kisses my earlobe softly before whispering to me.

"I can't be loved, Elena..." His voice is solid and mature and he moves towards the door as soon as the words have left him. He pulls it open and pauses for a moment, lowering his eyes and then turning back to me. I'm watching him intently over my shoulder, still wrapped in the bedding. He stiffens with a new resolve and I almost don't recognize the man before me.

"And I can't be saved."

His voice is hollow and emotionless. His face offers a blank stare as he turns and walks barefoot into the hall, slamming the door behind him.