Superpowered

Together they had overcome the daily incomprehension, the instantaneous hatred, the reciprocal nastiness, and fabulous flashes of glory in the conjugal conspiracy. It was time when they both loved each other best, without hurry or excess, when both were most conscious of and grateful for their incredible victories over adversity. Life would still present them with other moral trials, of course, but that no longer mattered: they were on the other shore.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez - Love in the Time of Cholera.

"Cristina, we shouldn't be doing this."

"So?"

"It's cheating."

"No, it's just preparation."

"I'm giving you an unfair advantage."

Cristina sighs and drops her bat to the ground. "Look, I want to improve my game and you happen to be a great teacher - it's just coincidence I have this sudden, uncontrollable urge to learn softball with the game against Seattle Pres next week." She walks over to her husband by the pitching machine and snakes her arms around his neck, smiling her most charming smile. "C'mon baby, teach me. I'm your secret weapon, remember?"

Owen just can't refuse her; can't resist her. He presses his mouth to hers, feeling slightly overwhelmed (as he often does) that now things are pretty much back to normal between them, he can once again just kiss her whenever he likes. Another symptom of this rediscovered normalcy is their incredibly volatile libidos, and he must be about to cause another flare-up because she pulls away with a little moan and gives him a stern but adorably ruffled look.

"Now you're the one who's cheating," she admonishes, thinking how handsome he is and how much she enjoys being ravished whenever he feels like it. "I'm sure there must be rules against the coach sexually exploiting his team."

"Who said anything about exploitation? You'll be begging me for it later."

"Oh yeah?"Cristina raises her eyebrows, her heart skipping in her chest at his words. They missed out on a lot of love making during their month of disturbing, silent awkwardness and now it's almost like they are a brand new couple again, all flirty and hands-all-over at every opportunity.

"Yeah." He kisses her again. "I promise."

"Hmm, we'll see about that." She has never been one to resist a challenge, be it medical, sexual or apparently even sports-related. "Now let's go back over there and you can show me how a real sportsman handles his balls."

Owen laughs in surprise. "What?"

"I said I love you." She's already jogging away from him but he catches the smirk in her voice. "Come on!"

After four evenings at the field coaching his admittedly very talented wife, Owen is glad she has decided to have a night off. He has some paperwork to do (surprise surprise) and he wants to sort out the newly-arrived Seattle Grace Mercy West softball kit before settling down with her in front of a movie, or maybe just whisking her off to bed early.

The first thing he sees at the top of the firehouse stairs is Cristina's slim, bare legs; the rest of her hidden behind the refrigerator door. When she steps back, two bottles of beer in one hand and a tub of salsa in the other, she looks surprised to see him standing there but it is nothing compared to his shock: his gorgeous wife is naked except for black lingerie, one of his blue 'SGMW' jerseys and a matching cap over her long curls, and she literally takes his breath away.

"Oh! Hey. You're back early."

"I... wanted to get home to see you."

She smiles and opens her arms wide. "Ta da. I decided to try on some of the new kit." She twirls around, making her hair – and oh god, her boobs – bounce up and down. "Suits me, doesn't it?"

Owen is barely listening to her, his gaze running along all her curves, both seen and unseen. He drops his bag to the floor and slides his hands around her waist, nuzzling her neck and making her giggle in the most arousing way. He wonders if she realizes she is currently fulfilling one of his fantasies, one he never thought he'd get to experience as it involved an outfit he was sure Cristina would turn her nose up at. But here she is, looking a million times sexier than he had ever imagined, and he decides to tell her so.

"You know, I thought you might have some sports-related fantasies," she says breathily, the beer bottles clinking behind his back as she wraps her arms around him. Her hips push against his and she isn't at all surprised to discover the effect her attire has already had on him.

"Even if I didn't before, I definitely would now," Owen murmurs back, and pulling off her cap he finally kisses her, pouring every ounce of his longing for her into each flick of his tongue and nip of his teeth. It's a much fiercer kiss than he had intended but she takes it in her stride and matches him breath for breath, groan for groan.

"Wait, wait," she laughs when he tries to lift her into his arms. She leans out of his embrace to put down the beer and salsa on the counter but that doesn't deter him from covering her throat with kisses, sending shivers right through her. "There's a game on TV," she says in a last ditch effort to keep her plans on track, though she's not entirely sure why when his course of events is so much more appealing. "I bought nachos. I was hoping to pick up some tips..."

"Then don't dress up so damn sexy." He lifts her up now; gasps as she hooks her ankles around his waist and brings her pelvis into direct contact with his. "Besides, I can give you all the tips you need."

"Mm?" Back against the fridge, she lets him kiss her for a long moment. "Like?"

"Go get your bat and I'll show you."

"Um... what?"

Owen grins at her, at this idea which has just materialized in his mind, his gaze running over her beautifully perplexed face. "I'm serious. Where is it?"

"In the bedroom."

"Perfect. I'll carry you."

Across the apartment they strip off his clothes and she can't help but stare because all the working out he's been doing lately to deal with his stress has made him so fit and toned that it's like being married to a living Greek statue, or her very own model from the 'pectoral and abdominal wall muscles' page of an anatomy textbook. She's also staring because seeing him so aroused is an incredible aphrodisiac, even when he's behaving bizarrely and moving her full-length mirror into the center of the floor.

He turns to her at last and the way his eyes roam over her makes her knees weak. "Come here," he instructs, his voice gentle but so deep.

"Yes coach." She saunters over, idly swinging her softball bat, wondering what this new game is - she knows she'll like it; she always does.

Owen almost comes when she whimpers his title like that; sways her hips so tantalizingly; teases him simply by being so fucking hot with her skimpy underwear peeking out from the bright blue jersey and her mouth open and her eyes full of lust and burning straight into his. It's all he can do not to grab her and throw her onto the bed when she gets within reach, but he manages to just take her hips in his hands and pull her back against his chest, angling them so that they get a clear view of themselves in the mirror. This alone is a massive turn on – they both know she loves to watch them in the bathroom mirror when they make love in the shower, before it gets too steamy (in more ways than one) – but then he tells her to hold up the bat like she's ready to strike and his palms run down over her skin and she can't help but let out a cry of anticipation which conveys to her, let alone him, just how wound up she is.

"You need to bend over a bit more," he says huskily, pulling her more firmly against him and shutting his eyes as she wriggles and adjusts her position, the lace of her panties and soft skin of her ass so tortuous against his cock. "Mm, that's good." His gaze meets hers in the mirror and she looks so hot – they look so hot together – that another jolt of desire spasms through him.

"Now, you need to relax."

Cristina can feel his breath on the side of her neck as his hands help themselves to her body; as they undo her strapless bra and throw it to the floor. She's still holding the damn bat in position and her arms are beginning to hurt, but their reflection does look so fucking great – his gorgeous naked body, her big blue top hiding the secret trail of his fingertips around and over her nipples – that she promises herself she will keep this position as long as necessary and physically possible.

"Right, time to take a strike," Owen commands at last, hands on her hips once again and eyes meeting hers in the mirror. His fingers are so close to where she is aching for him to touch her that she involuntarily bucks her hips and the movement makes him growl under his breath. "Don't pre-empt the pitch," he admonishes throatily. "I know you're excited but it's all about patience."

He covers her hands with his palms and gently rocks against her as if preparing for a pitch, then they swing. He tells her to take the next one alone and his hands leave hers to resume their exploration of her body. After her second attempt he rewards her by slipping his fingers under the waistband of her panties. "Sometimes you're gonna be under pressure," he mutters, nibbling on her ear between words. "Maybe this needs to be a home run for your team to win. I want to test your... self-control."

Cristina can't answer him, so much is the desire inside her, but she swings as told and as he begins to touch her, her arms and legs and each breath shaking. All the time her gaze doesn't leave the reflection of his, until she knows they are both about to break and finally throws the bat to the floor: self-control be damned. "Practice is over, coach," she breathes, standing up straight and leaning back against him, her hands snaking up into his hair and the fire in their eyes setting the room around them alight. "I think I'm ready to play now."

Owen couldn't agree more. He crouches to slide her pants down her lovely legs, pressing kisses to her thighs and backside on his way up. "Keep it on," he instructs when she starts to shrug off the jersey. "You look phenomenal."

He stands and finally turns her around to him, capturing her smiling mouth in a series of truly mind-blowing kisses as he feels her hands on his body at last, touching him in all the places and ways she knows he likes best. He sits on the foot of the bed and looks up almost in awe as his gorgeous wife straddles him, sinking straight down onto him and sighing as he fills her. She adjusts her position and then slowly begins to ride him, her arms on his shoulders and his around her waist; they look across to the mirror and smile at each other's reflection.

"I love you."

She's not usually the one who says it first and Owen loves her all the more for that tonight.

"Love you too." His arms reflexively squeeze her tighter. "You're so pretty."

"So are you."

They both smile and then she watches in the glass as he gently kisses her throat; as his hands push the jersey off of her shoulders so it sits around her lower back and she can then see his mouth move to her breasts; as she rises up and down on her knees, holding back on her passion for now: loving him slowly and with everything she is.

He doesn't let her keep control for long.

The next thing she knows he is on his feet with her in his arms and his tongue once again playing with hers, and then she feels like she's flying, falling, until her back hits the mattress and suddenly he's gone from above her and it's only a few seconds but feels like an eternity until his mouth is between her thighs and oh god, does his tongue like its new playmate.

She comes quickly, as much from his spontaneity as from his hands on her boobs and his own moans of pleasure washing up over her body. When he crawls over her, kissing every part of her on his path, worshipping her as his wife, she can only whimper as sparks of electricity continue to shoot through her from center to head to toe and back again.

"That was naughty," she manages to say at last, and it's worth the effort to see the sparkle in his eyes, the grin on his lips, the playfulness and passion in him that makes her heart beat just a little bit faster every time.

"Another superpower, right?"

Cristina giggles as his breath tickles her neck, then gasps as he enters her once again. "Ohh... you can't have more than one," she murmurs, finding his gaze as she wraps her legs around his thighs and lets her body melt into his every stroke.

"Who says?" he counters, smoothly flipping her on top of him and basking in the sight of her beautiful body and her wild hair and her inexplicably sexy blue top. Sitting up to rest on his elbows he watches her move above him with a gorgeous smile on her lips until the wonderful sensations she is creating – the sensation of her and all that she is, and all that she is giving him – makes his eyes fall closed. He feels her lean forward, feels her curls on his chest as she kisses her way up to his ear, making him groan and his hips buck up uncontrollably.

"I say," she whispers, biting down on his neck and then soothing it with her tongue. "So keep still and let me fuck you for once."

And she does, her back arched and body rocking, revelling in her power over him and the way he gasps and digs his fingernails into her thighs; grabs her hair and pulls her into his kiss, holding her against him as he finally tenses and then comes with more noise than she's ever heard him make before.

Heartbeat to heartbeat, lying there with her face in the crook of his neck is one of Cristina's favorite places in the whole world, and she presses kisses to his skin in the vain hope of conveying even a tiny fraction of her love for him. It's in moments like these that she knows whatever has happened, and whatever is coming, they have already made it to the other shore, and they are grounded there now no matter what life throws their way.

"How did I do?" she asks at last, raising her head to look at him. "Did I make your team?"

Owen can only laugh at her hopeful expression which makes her laugh too, and then she is so beautiful that he just has to kiss her. "Of course you did." His gaze runs over her lovely face and even through his haze and fatigue and the lingering pain of recent weeks, in moments like these he can forgive her absolutely anything and love her even more. "You always do; every time, in everything. You're my secret weapon, remember?"

She looks at him for a long time until he thinks she might just have memorized him, before her nose wrinkles adorably. "God, you're so soppy after sex."

"I know. It's a super-"

"No! No it isn't," she laughs, and once again it's infectious. "No more superpowers. Although, for the record, I've been working on mine quite a bit recently..."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm. It's practically a super-superpower, I'm so awesome." They look at each other for a long minute, aware they are thinking exactly the same thing. "Wanna jump in the shower?" Cristina murmurs eventually, surprised by the timbre of her own voice. "I'll put on a swimsuit and get you off with my left hand."

Owen doesn't hesitate for a second. "How did you know I've always wanted a hand job from a dirty swimmer?"

"Anticipating your fantasies is my second superpower. Come on coach, let's go get each other wet..."

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