REPOST due to the request from meeeeouch.

It will most likely remain a one-shot. It has been edited, so quite a few changes has been made since it was last up here.

Fighting for Dominance

The Burning Phoenix, or simply The Phoenix, was a club on the outskirts of town where all the high-profile and notable people spend their weekends and longer holidays at. The club was owned by a group of Dominants, and the contracts were strict. Every member of the club was required to sign an NDA to ensure absolute privacy and anonymity.

In the resort, there was a Dominant and a Dominatrix who were extremely private with the most particular requirements when it came down to selecting submissives. They new each other, but that was as far as their relationship went. It wasn't the fact that they didn't have any opportunity to cross path in the society, but more like they deliberately wanted to avoid each other, everywhere.

…

By the door of the court, two lawyers stood in front of a black Audi car. They shook hands and exchanged a series of brief greetings.

"I'd consider this one a success," the man said rather proudly.

"Yes, I concur. Though, this case has been real tiring," the woman who looked way younger than the man assented with a nod.

"It pays well," he quipped lightly, also in agreement with his colleague. "Well, I'll see you on Monday in the office, Ana," he said, giving her a short wave before ducking into the Audi that awaited.

"I'll have the report done and send it to you, Carrick," Ana confirmed, waving at the man and watched the car disappear down the road mixing into the stream of cars moving up and down the lanes.

She made her way to the parking lot and stopped before a silver Mercedes-Benz to fish out a set of keys from her purse. She unlocked the car and got behind the wheel. These were the series of movements that she had to repeat on a daily basis, but whenever she got into the car, she would debate on where she would go.

Tomorrow was Saturday, which meant she had two days of rest and the same amount of time to finish up her report; but right now, she needed to relief the stress that was pent-up in her since before the beginning of this court hearing. The case had riled her up and there was just too much emotions involved. Now that the case was officially closed, she could let everything go.

And, there was only one way that she could think of to help ease her hay-wiring emotions and decrease her stress level.

That was The Phoenix.

But first, she had to drive home and change into the appropriate attire.

…

At the lobby of Grey House, the CEO was adjusting his tie—he couldn't wait to get into his tinted SUV so he could rip off the damn thing that was currently suffocating him around the neck. Ever since the meeting during breakfast this morning, he had been feeling like the number of incompetent bastards he had employed suddenly inflated, and the way they all came out at once was overwhelming.

"What is it, Taylor?" He asked the second he got into the car. He knew from the look on his CPO's face that something had happened, and it wouldn't be something that would appease his current emotional state.

"We've got a trace and we've tracked her," the buzz cut replied, his tone detached and stoic, but there was still an undercurrent that told Christian he wouldn't like what was coming next.

"The day just gets better and better," Christian sneered sarcastically. He thought the breakfast meeting was the only thing that would ruin his day, and enough to put him in this foul mood, but maybe the news Taylor had to deliver would just fuck him over.

"Miss Williams is in Miss Steele's apartment," Taylor announced.

"What the fuck does Ana has to do with her?" Christian grabbed a handful of his hair to pull it, hard. He and Anastasia were only acquaintances through his father, despite the fact that they were both known members of The Phoenix and in the community; but that didn't mean they were friends.

They both turned to the lifestyle as a form of escape, but none of them bothered to find out why exactly led them here in the first place.

"Miss Steele is reported to have just arrived at the apartment," Taylor informed right after Christian's seething fit.

"Just get there first," he ordered.

Leila was a former sub of his but their contract had ended almost half a year ago. He had been contracting other subs from the resort since then. For once, he wasn't the one who terminated the contract but Leila was the one that did, because she fell for him.

It was his deal breaker.

He had to admit that Anastasia was the same when it came to sentiments. They were hard-core and always concealing their feelings. Both of them had the very same deal breaker—the submissives were to agree to the contact for physical intimacy only.

With the comparisons in his mind, he felt closer to her for some reason, and he needed to know her better in order to get her out of the situation that his ex-submissive was causing. He had no idea why Leila went to her in the first place.

The conclusion that he had came to as the car drove closer to Anastasia's apartment was that, she was much like him in a lot of ways, but less fucked-up.

"Is she still there, Taylor?" Christian asked, when he saw the neighborhood in the distant. It was familiar but he had never actually stopped there before. The times when he had went passed was on his way to and back from work from home. Only this time, he was going to stop and get out of his car to knock on the door.

"Yes, sir," Taylor responded not missing a beat. He didn't want to sour his mood further

"Stay in the car."

"Sir," his bodyguard protested. Christian didn't bring anyone else with him, and in spite of his current mood, Taylor hd decided to risk his job because he had been threatened that before but never followed through. "Miss Williams is armed, and she is mentally unstable."

"Are you questioning my ability to protect myself?" He snapped at his head of security.

"No, sir," even though Taylor really wanted to say 'yes'. "Your safety is my priority and right now, it is a concern."

"I pay you to listen to my orders and not talk back when I clearly have made my decision," Christian raised his voice. His mood was really at the trough today. "Say one more word and you're tidying your fucking desk!" He threatened, but Taylor didn't even flinch at this empty threat.

He sighed and resigned to his seat as he unlocked the door for Christian to get out. He knew the next destination would be The Phoenix.

…

"I'm sorry, but do I know you?" Anastasia asked the filthy intruder who was standing in the center of her living room, on her favorite mat with her hands stuffed in her pockets.

"No, you don't, but I know you," the woman said, her voice slurring. She looked shabby and sleep deprived.

"Well, in that case, I suggest you go back to whatever you're planning to do before you got to my apartment, because I need to get changed. I've got places to be."

"You are going to The Phoenix, aren't you?" When she spoke, she sounded like she had just gotten down from a drug-induced high, and she was now slowing experiencing withdrawal effects. "You are the Dominatrix that every submissive craved for, but not many of them matches your taste. I know all about you."

"That's impressive." Anastasia leaned against the counter that she had just placed her purse on and stared at the figure in the middle of her room trying to gauge her intention. Her words came out uninterested and dull, reflecting just what she was feeling.

"I'm here because my Master will be here. You know my Master," she continued barely forming a coherent sentence, but she was still talking nonstop as if that could keep her awake and conscious.

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn," Anastasia pushed herself off of the counter and made a beeline to her bedroom after kicking off her shoes roughly by the door. She had a goal and that was to get to the club.

Just as she was about to take a step, a gunshot stopped her. Not that she was startled by the sound or frightened by the bullet that went in an unknown direction—because it was all too familiar to her. It was the defiant tone that didn't sit well with her.

Anastasia was now beyond pissed off by the little submissive standing in her house claiming that she would give a crap about her, but the Dominatrix really didn't want to mind another person's business, let alone a stray-submissive's.

She opened her mouth to speak but her voice was covered up by the sound of her door bursting open as if she wasn't in her own apartment anymore. She didn't lock the door behind her because she knew she was going to leave very soon, so there was no need.

"Master," the filthy looking brunette with bags under her eyes directed them to the ground the minute Christian walked through the door. The gun that was pointed at Anastasia earlier trembled in her damaged hand, and Anastasia knew there was no way she was going to pull the trigger and hit her aim with the way she held the gun. In addition, from what Anastasia could observe, there wasn't even a finger on the trigger and the gun was not even loaded since the last shot—as it was an old gun. But, she wasn't about to share those observations to her other trespasser. People needed to learn that they couldn't just waltz into her domain like they own it right under her nose.

At the same time, Anastasia was also curious to see how Christian would react to a gun. From the brief encounters between them, she only gathered two things about him: he was hard-core—so no romance, vanilla or hearts and flowers; and, he had a complicated past that led him into this lifestyle much like herself.

Under other circumstances, Anastasia would be laughing at the expression on his face because the minute the gun came into his line of sight, his face blanched completely, it was paler than her white walls.

Anastasia would never understand why someone would be afraid of guns, but then again, she grew up in a cult where people carry guns more often than they carry wallets. She knew more about guns than a guy could possibly knew more about cars, and that was how confident she was about this weapon.

Christian would never understand why people would be carrying guns around in the first place. He was terrified at the thought of his securities carrying weapons while on duty, and he even forbad them to be armed while off duty. His biological mother died of starvation when he was four, due to the constant running from 'war fronts'. His biological father was unknown from the start. Gun shots was the most frequently heard sound in his nightmares, accompanying him through his childhood and even into his adulthood from time to time. The sight of a gun was nothing less than his worst nightmare.

Anastasia entered the lifestyle because of trust issues that had troubled her since her childhood. Growing up in a cult had its perks and also its downsides. Trust was an issue in her family and among the community that she used to live in; it took her almost five years to escape from the wrath of the cult when she was in high school, and that was how she got into college.

Christian entered the lifestyle solely because he fell for an elder woman's seduction at the age of fifteen—the time when Anastasia was busy trying to figure out a way to escape. He needed control; at least that was what he was led to believe. He believed that it was because of his lack of control of his life that made him run like an escapee throughout his childhood; and it was due to the lack of control, rules, and regulations in the governing body that had caused the chaos to continue. The riot was called a 'war' by the locals, and that was what he had known growing up.

When he casted his eyes over to Anastasia, he felt stupid for shitting himself when she barely changed her demeanor.

He had a sudden urge to protect her, even though he was more terrified than she was, but the masculine side had marked her as the person who needed rescue and the woman with the gun as the enemy.

He took a deep breath trying to calm his racing heart, he started taking steady steps toward the woman with the gun. It was still pointed at Anastasia, and for some reason, he had hoped it was pointing at himself instead of her, because she was innocent.

Just as he was close enough to her, he felt her whole demeanor change and he instantly knew the effects he had on her was still the same.

"Kneel."

He commanded using his Dominant voice, and when he reached out trying to seize the gun, she let it drop to the floor. It took everything in him to not jump at the sound of the contact. It was all too familiar and all too close for his liking, everything just screamed remembrance of his past. The presence of the gun was as if someone rubbing scrubbing salt in his reopened wounds.

"Do you have anywhere better to be, Miss Steele?" He asked, but his eyes were fixed on Leila, who was kneeling in the submissive position one her knees with her head lowered, her hands on her thighs faced up, and her legs slightly parted.

"No, but I think you and your sub may have," she replied coolly, completely unaffected by the scenes that had just unfolded in front of her.

"Can I use your bathroom," he asked, but he could feel the icy glare burning through the back of his head, so he added, "please?"

"No," was all she said, and she started to head toward her room to get changed. She wasn't going to let this small vignette derail her from her original plan, in fact, it had made her want to head to the club even more. Her sub would be drained from the unusually high expectations from his Domme after tonight's scene.

The gun was still lying on the ground where it had skidded to, and he didn't have the will to pick it up, but he wasn't going to let it fall back into Leila's hand either. He had an idea of what Leila had just been through, and he had been contemplating on supporting her.

"Follow Taylor," Christian instructed his sub. Right after Leila got up from the floor as she was told, Christian took out his phone to dial Taylor's number to inform him of the plan that he had just conjured on the spot.

Leila was about to reach for the gun when Christian walked into Anastasia's room to talk to Taylor, Anastasia's stern, dominating voice echoed through the small apartment, slicing through the silence like a sharp knife.

"Leave it," her tone made Leila wince and cower. Even if she was a Dominatrix, she still held the power a Dominant had over a submissive, and her tone said it all. Before Leila could muster up any other courage to try anything else, Anastasia walked toward the gun, picked it up and twirled it around her fingers expertly. At last, when she saw that Leila was still lingering at the door as if waiting for something or someone, Anastasia released the vault and loaded the gun. The sound got Leila's attention and without the gun glaring at her, she scrambled out of the door under the owner's penetrating glare.

Christian walked out of the door just in time to witness Anastasia firing a bullet in the direction of the door where Leila just disappeared seconds ago.

…

The Phoenix was fully occupied as usual, working at full capacity. There were the usual ones, businessmen, Congressmen, Senate, lawyers, celebrities, and essentially any high middle to upper class career that could be thought of.

Anastasia Steele was a lawyer, partner of Carrick Grey, the two of them had won more cases than a small firm combined. They were not only well-known in court, but their professional stance would be enough to send out a powerful vibe that would make just anyone cringe.

Christian Grey was just a businessman with his own company that was expanding its branch into other parts of the world. The homeland already seemed too small for his taste, and he was looking for a global market. The manner he demonstrated in his workplace would never tolerate any actions that would violate his guidelines. It was the essence of this lifestyle and that was also why he was so suitable for the Dominant role.

However, with what had happened to Leila in her apartment, Anastasia arrived at the club demanding a lot from her contracted submissive, whereas Christian was only there trying to find something to occupy his mind, and distract himself from the Leila problem that was somewhat resolved.

For the first time since they've known each other, Anastasia watched Christian from the side. She watched him scene with his sub, and she realized that the gun had affected him because of the way he was having trouble concentrating. She could tell that he was purely trying to distract himself, he wasn't getting off from the pain he was inflicting like he normally would. That was when she had decided that he was probably effected more than he would admit.

For the rest of the night, she had an audience, and she knew it. They were covert, but she still sensed them. Whenever he was present, she would sense him occupying the same space as her. It was like her sixth sense.

The sheer observation for the night, and the fact that he had made an exception to watch her scene was an indication to her that what happened in her apartment complex struck him hard. This conclusion led her to his penthouse the next morning.

On her way to his place, she had been trying to come up with a better excuse than something like 'I felt somewhat responsible for what happened to you yesterday', but then again, that would be a lie. Not that she didn't get worried by the look on his face with the way it morphed from the confident Dominant into the colorless, fragile, and vulnerable man was a process that had imprinted her mind whether she wanted or not.

The reaction that he had when he saw the gun casted suspicion to his past, and it made her curious about what he actually went through to make him react the way he did.

A man that Anastasia couldn't recognize from the voice answered the door, he was obviously unaware of her identity apart from the fact that she was Carrick's partner and colleague, who sometimes liked to discuss emergency matters using his son's study. She was let right in since Christian had somehow given them the instruction to let her pass through whenever she came over.

"Gail, Taylor." Anastasia greeted the two who welcomed her at the foyer when she stepped out of the elevator. "Is Christian okay?" She asked, wondering if it sounded too forward or weird coming from her.

"I've been trying to get him to drink the chicken soup since this morning, but he won't have any." Gail informed. Taylor just shook his head, obviously he had already shared the story with Gail about yesterday, but he clearly didn't know everything since he didn't actually show up in the apartment. "May I ask how are you, Ma'am?" Gail addressed her formally. It wasn't unknown to them that she was a Dominatrix.

It was never her intention for them to find out about this side of her, because ever since the small revelation, they had been treating her like they treated Christian. Ana had dismissed the formalities early on when she first met them through Carrick, but they picked it up once they knew about her other identity, and now it was hard for them to drop it again.

"I'm good, thanks for asking, Gail." Ana smiled, still not liking the fact that she was addressed formally even when she wasn't playing the Dominatrix role.

Taylor nodded at her politely before retreating to the study.

"Taylor," Anastasia called behind him, remembering something that she wanted to tell him. He stopped and turned around.

"Ma'am?" Like Gail, old habits die hard. Taylor had been calling her that not long after spotting her in the resort.

"How much has Christian told you?"

"Only for me to get Miss Williams sorted. He's said nothing else regarding that matter," he replied, and Anastasia wanted to slap Christian for not confiding in his closest staff, because he was obviously shaken. She knew what she had done yesterday had played a role. She acknowledged the information and dismissed Taylor before heading to the master bedroom suite.

Knocking on his door, she pushed it open quietly. The room was dark and the curtains were drawn, but Christian was wide awake.

"I told you I'm not going to drink that fucking soup!" He snapped weakly.

"It's Ana," Anastasia corrected in a much softer voice.

"What are you doing here?" He hated for people to see him when he was weak, especially not another Domme.

"I'm here to check on you," she answered, and part of her wanted to apologize for scaring him yesterday by firing that gun, but something stopped her from doing so.

"Why would I ever concern you?" His voice was hoarse and his eyes looked tired.

Anastasia closed her eyes, waiting for it to adjust and then opening it to the dark room.

"And don't give me the 'because Carrick is my partner' bullshit, I know that's not true," he added in a sneer.

"No, that's not true; not today, at least," Anastasia admitted, but she was sure that it was the reason why she showed concerns toward him in the past, at least that was what she had been telling herself and everyone.

"Then, please, tell me why you're here? I'd really like a lullaby to make me fall back to sleep.," he yawned pretentiously, but he really did look weary.

"Did I scare you yesterday?" She cautiously sat down at the bottom edge of his bed. Her voice was gentle and soft, it sounded nothing like the Dominatrix. "Christian, it's just you and me."

He said nothing but let out a snort. She didn't know what was going through his mind that led him to give out the response mostly because she knew very little about him. Looking around, she located a bowl of chicken soup on the counter next to his nightstand, she stood up and reached for it. It was still lukewarm.

"You don't have to answer me now, but drink this, it'll make you feel better." Anastasia carried the bowl closer to him. She knew he only got a fever because he was haunted by memories. He would be getting better, but at the same time, she wanted to know what caused the horrible memories. Maybe it was curiosity or perhaps it was worry.

"I told you I don't fucking want it!" He snapped.

"Look, Christian, I don't like you and you don't like me, but you are going to eat this chicken soup and go back to bed or so help me God, I will drown you in Nyquil."

"I didn't know you can be this feisty," a hint of humor could be detected in his tone, and that shocked Anastasia more than the fact that he actually took the soup from her hands. "Believe it or not, I do like you, Anastasia," he said after gulping down the last drop of the soup.

"What has Gail put in this soup that changed you all of a sudden?" She murmured as she got up to put the bowl back to where she took it.

"Since you don't like me, I do hope you didn't put poison in it," he added.

"Dislike does not equal to hatred, Christian."

"So, does that mean you'll poison someone if you hate them?" He smirked.

"Go back to sleep," she rolled her eyes. "I'm only here to check on you, because apparently you're not fulfilling your duty. As a Dominant, you take care of your subs and you also need to take care of yourself. It's not my job to take care of you, but I do think you need a hand today."

"You are the best Dominatrix I've ever met actually. I watched your scene yesterday." He recalled, unsure why he was bringing up the matter. "Why did you enter the lifestyle?"

"Just sleep, Christian. You'll regret what you're saying tomorrow when you got better," Anastasia was caught off guard by the intrusive question. She was tempted to answer, but she also wanted to know his, so she wasn't going to give it away that easily without some negotiation. For now, she wasn't going to take advantage of a sick patient whose head was throbbing in pain from time to time.

"No, I know what I'm doing, and I want to get to know you," he said defiantly, pushing her hand away when she tried to tuck him in and leave.

"I'll tell you when you can think clearly."

"My brain hasn't got burned yet."

"Yet," she repeated, emphasizing the word.

"I promise, I am sober, and I can think straight. I'll tell you my story first," he pleaded, desperately wanting her to remain next to him, just to talk to him and keep him companied.

"Have you ever subbed for anyone before?" Anastasia asked before he could say anything else. She noticed that his hand was still holding her wrist tightly from when he was trying to prevent her from leaving.

"I have, and that's before I fully understood the lifestyle," he answered, keeping the information short and vague.

"Promise me you will tell me your story when I tell you mine," she sighed, deciding to cut him some slacks, finding him actually a good company when he wasn't in his element.

"I would kiss you on it, but I'm sick so if I don't keep my promise I will sub for you once," He half-kidded, and it meant that he was serious about keeping his words since he would be giving up control.

"I grew up in a cult."

This very sentence caught Christian's full attention.

"My parents were in debt to the leader of the cult, and they repaid their debt by being their advisors. The cult blurs the line between law breaking and deviant acts, and growing up in that society, you will learn to not trust anyone easily, if not at all. I shouldn't be talking about this and I shouldn't even be out here, but I don't want to stay in that kind of community anymore, the pressure and the suspense is too much to bear. I escaped at around the age of fifteen, I've got nothing but the skill to read people. I know how to associate myself with people that can be trusted, and I can be manipulative. Manipulation and reading people are the two things that I've learned from the cult, by reading people, I know what I can confide them in and they only know what I want them to know."

"You enter the lifestyle because you don't trust anyone, and being a Dominatrix will make you feel like you're separated from the rest of the population, you are independent and you can shield yourself from other people's penetrating eyes." Christian concluded for her, and it was precisely the reasons behind her decision.

"Yes. I don't trust people easily," she admitted.

"You don't trust me?"

"Not fully," she confessed. "I do trust you to an extent, and I think I trust you enough to tell you part of my past."

"I appreciate that," he smiled. "I know you trust me more than you've trust anyone in a while, and I will keep trying to win your trust fully."

"That'll take very long, and I can easily stop trusting people," she warned. "Enough about me," she said, and he took it as his cue to start launching into his background story.

"I was born into the center of a riot. I don't know who my father is, but I know my mother used to be an escort. A prostitute who attends fancy events as a date of someone important, you know?" Anastasia nodded in understanding and for him to continue. "And when the riot broke out, it was somehow linked to her. We were running from places to places, until one night, she died of starvation. I was only four at the time. I didn't know how I survived the next eleven years until I was seduced by an elder woman. Through the years, relentless guns and bullets were the only companion and I have to switch from shelters to shelters restlessly. That created the fear of guns for me."

"You were introduced to the lifestyle by that elder woman who seduced you?" Anastasia described the woman in disgust, he nodded. "You chose to become a Dominant because you wanted control, you don't want to live a life that's out of your own hands like your childhood experience."

"Yes, I'm a control freak," he confessed sadly.

"It's okay to be who you are. I'm a weirdo, too." She was going to joke about firing a bullet to her wall yesterday, but didn't know how well he was going to take a joke about guns, so she bit it back. "I'm not scared of guns because I grew up with them. We just grew up on the different side of the gun. You're the one in front of the muzzle and I'm the one behind the trigger." He shuddered at the explanation. "But hey, that doesn't mean I'm going to be holding one, and it certainly doesn't mean you're going to be facing one, either."

"Please stop talking about guns," he beseeched.

"Okay, I'm sorry," she apologized.

"I hate this topic of discussion," he added out of the blue.

"Then what would like to talk about?" She asked, only slightly amused.

"I was thinking, maybe, I can ask you can stay with me tonight," he mumbled, the sentence was still coherent, but she knew he was falling asleep or at least pretending to; she couldn't decide.

"I'll stay until you fell asleep," she compromised. "I don't think sleeping next to a monster will help."

"Oh, fuck it, Anastasia. If you're a monster, then I'm just another breed of the same species." With one swift tug, she found herself landing on top of him, their face inches apart from one another. "Forget about the roles that we play in the club, it's just you and me now."

"Okay," Anastasia whispered, unsure of how to react to the sudden leap in their relationship. The attraction was undeniable, but they had been doing great at keeping it at bay, and she wondered what led him to make this move.

"Now, stay with me," He demanded petulantly as if he knew she would have agreed either way.

"Do you want a goodnight kiss?" She jibed, and it was only meant to be a joke, but he looked her in the eye in all seriousness and said.

"Yes."

She froze in her spot for a split second before pressing her lips to his. The kiss was short, brief and concise, but straight to the point. When she pulled away and lay back on her side next to him, he said.

"And yes, you scared me yesterday, baby."

The end.

Leave a review, please! Also, since it's a one-shot at the moment, if you have any ideas on how it should continue or what might happen next, tell me!

Laters, baby x

-SapphireTrafficker-