"Ana, please," He's exasperated, desperate. His voice is one of someone who knows they've done wrong, and knows they can't take back their actions.

I shake my head, turning to face him, hot tears rolling down my cheeks, "Christian Grey, how you acted today was out of line. Embarrassing me in front of my friends, my family. You treat me like a child, and you lose control of your anger because one of my best friends hugs me for a little too long? What's next? Can I not see Kate? We've slept in the same bed a few times." I'm not angry, I'm livid.

He stares at me, devastated, "Please stop yelling at me, I just get jealous." He says it as if that solves all of our problems.

"That isn't it, Christian," I yell, "Again, you miss my point. It isn't that you get jealous, it's that you overreact constantly, in front of people! You embarrass me by constantly controlling me and arguing with me and glaring at the people who enjoy spending time with me."

He shrugs, looking down, "Not all people, just men."

I stare at him, momentarily shocked, before turning and walking out the bedroom door. "Friends are friendly with each other, Christian. Not that I'd expect you to know that." I'm not really sure where I'm heading, but I hear his feet shuffle along behind me as he follows me. I'm not sure why, but I stop outside the Red Room of Pain. He's so close behind me, he walks into me when I stop; he wasn't expecting me to stop here of all places. I contemplate for a minute, swatting his hand away from my shoulder, and open the door before I have a chance to think.

I walk in slowly, looking around. He stands in the doorway, uncertainly. His eyes nervously flicker around the room, and I can tell being in here makes him uncomfortable now. Ever since that time that I left him after, Christian doesn't seem to enjoy it as much anymore. Vanilla is becoming more and more his favorite flavor. I drag my fingers along the surfaces in the room, slowly taking it all in.

"You know, I trust you with everything. I let you tie me up, blindfold me, take me wherever you want, anything. Yet I'm not even allowed to enjoy my friends company. How can I trust you? How can I trust that you can be my lover, my husband, and my best friend; if you are so uncertain in my relationship that I can't hug another male?" He looks wounded, and he shrugs helplessly, floundering for something to say. I have him at a loss for words, another first. "How can I trust you won't overreact forever, and scare our children when we have a family? You scare everyone else." I'm being mean now; cruel. I've awoken this part of my personality because of him, never in my life did I ever have this in me before him.

I know my words cut him deep, and his head hangs in shame, "I don't want to scare anyone, I want them to like me." His words are honest, young. My heart warms a bit.

I sigh, marching towards him. I hastily grab his chin, and he flinches back. I ignore it and jolt his head up to look at me, the flinch only solidifying that he doesn't really trust me. "It's your turn to trust me."

He looks at me, eyes wary. He looks young again; broken. I don't want to break him, only make him see. "I do trust you, I let you touch me, I sleep next to you, I married you…" His voice trails off, his eyes flickering to the handcuffs and the restraints around the room. I grip his chin tighter, and his eye brows knot together, I can tell he wants to pull his face back.

"Did you enjoy it?" I ask, feeling brave, "Being tied down, being submissive."

He swallows roughly, his expression fearful, "Are you asking me to be submissive for you?" I take note he evades my question.

My eyes soften, my heart unclenching, "Not unless it's something you don't want to do." Where is this coming from? My bravery, my will to do this?

His eyes go down, staring at the floor. "If it will prove I trust you, and make you more at ease about trusting me, than I want to."

I have never imagined I'd see him so…uneasy. I release his face, shocked by his cooperation. He sits down on the bed, and looks up at me, waiting. "I don't even know where to begin," I realize, "What don't you want?"

He thinks for a minute, "I'll do whatever you want."

I look around, slightly overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. Strangely, the thought of doing this excites me. I never imagined it would. "Undress," I say simply, reaching for a blindfold. I turn around, and he's already down to his boxers, and dragging those down his thighs. I collect handcuffs, two pairs, my eyes flickering towards the riding crop. I look away quickly, I don't think I could ever use one of those on someone. We make eye contact again, his eyes dark. "Lay down in the middle," I instruct, my voice giving away my fear. He does, his lips parted slightly as I climb up next to him, taking his left hand, kissing it quickly before locking the handcuff around his wrist. I pass the chain being one of the metal bars of the head rest, and repeat the same process with his right hand.

"Is this okay so far?" I ask, stroking his cheek.

He smiles weakly, his smile not reaching his eyes, "Yes."

Not completely convinced, I do the same to his ankles, then reach for the blindfold. "What's the safe word?" I prompt gently as I cover his eyes, his breath is already accelerating.

"Pain," he gasps quietly, and the word tugs at my heart.

"Okay, just try to be still. I'm not going to hurt you," I reassure him pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. He exhales loudly, but doesn't comment. Unsure of where to start, I settle for his face, nipping his ear and his chin. My hands run down his strained shoulders to his neck. I let my fingers slightly push on his Adam's Apple, examining it, and suddenly his head twists away.

"Don't choke me," he says seriously, and I plant my hands back on his shoulders.

"I won't, baby. I wasn't going to," I whisper, continuing my decent down his neck towards his chest. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, and I hope it isn't all from fear. I marvel at the idea of having him laid out, helplessly before me, all mine to do whatever i want with. It's empowering. I brush against his nipples and his body jerks, the handcuffs clanging against the bar. I realize I've never done anything with his nipples before, always too afraid it would spook him away. Very slowly I plant a kiss on his neck, his collarbone, and finally his chest. I take the soft pink nub in my mouth and he moans. I brush against it with my teeth and he moans again, deep in his chest.

"Don't bite me too hard," he whispers, and I smile even though he can't see.

I bite him, very gently, and his back arches a bit. I move over to kiss a scar, licking it. He knows exactly what I'm doing and he whimpers with need. The sound is so delicious, I quickly lean back to undress myself. "Ana?" he questions, his face turning in the direction of where he thinks I am.

"Just undressing, still here." His head falls back, and I realize he really is nervous. His body is tight with fear, but his erection stands tall, straining against his belly. Pleased by his reaction to me, I lean down and let my breasts brush his erection, and I lick his happy, happy trail. He's panting down, arms taunt as he struggles to move. "Easy," I remind him.

I move to gently bite the top of his thighs and they flex, "Oh God, Ana," he groans, "Please make love to me." His words go right to my groin, and I move over slightly to lick his balls. His muscles constrict, and I look up at his face to gauge his reaction. His jaw is slack, his body quivering. So I do it again, nipping at the sack gently. His erection twitches and he moans loudly, "What you do to me," he moans.

"What do I do to you?" I ask, moving my hand to slowly jerk him off. He swallows, shaking his head as he is at a loss for words. I still my hand, "Answer me."

"Don't stop," he pleads, trying to force his hips forward.

"Answer my question."

His head rolls to one side, "You make me feel alive, you make me so hard, and you make me happy."

I move again and he sighs in relief. I add my mouth to help my hand, and he appreciates it. "Ana, more, please." Holy shit, he's begging. I ignore his plea, "Please, baby."

I stop completely, releasing him from my mouth and crawling back up his body, he groans in protest, fighting his restraints. I smile down at him, scrapping my finger nails down his chest slowly, and he shudders at the sensation. "Ana," my name comes out in a breath, his mouth open in the shape of an O. "Ana," he says stronger, clearing his throat. "Do it harder," he begs quietly, "Hurt me." Holy fuck!

I feel like I'm going to throw up. "No, absolutely not."

He whines, "Please, I'll safe word if it's too much. I promise."

I'm quiet for a moment, "Why?" I whisper.

His perfect lips fall into a frown, "Please?" is his only reply.

"How?" I ask, and I can't believe I'm even considering it.

"Hit me, slap me, scratch me; anything." I stare down at him, and I remember how he told me about Mrs. Robinson. Slap. Kiss. Slap. I don't want to be like her. "Please?" He tries again. I remain silent and he squirms in anticipation. I don't think I'm strong enough to hurt him, physically or mentally. I shut my eyes, regretting that I ever started this. I vow to never do it again.

I reach out quickly and scratch his chest fluently, drawing small lines of blood. He yelps, his arms yanking hard on the cuffs, "Again," he gasps. I flinch as I scratch him again, he moans. It's gut twisting. "You can bite me again, harder," he whispers, his cheeks flushing pink. His sudden change in behavior is scary, this is getting scary. Unable to stop myself, I bend down to kiss his shoulder, than sink my teeth into his smooth skin. The cuffs rattle against the headboard. Slap. Kiss. Slap. That was how this all started. I slap him across the face, harder than I intended too. It knocks the wind out of him. I grab a fist full of his hair, pulling so hard I'm going to yank it out. I let the nails on my other hand sink into his rib cage as I bite down on his exposed throat. He struggles, shrinking away from me. He's making weird noises in his throat, and I realize he's trying to speak. "Pain. Pain," he finally sobs softly. I instantly release him, kissing his face gently. That wasn't kinky, or sexy. It was torture, yet his cock is harder than ever, dripping pre-come. I reach for the blindfold, "Finish, just no more hurting me. I just needed a little bit."

Uncomfortable over how easily I was able to hurt him, I move to straddle him, carefully placing my hands on his toned chest, before sinking down on him. It's disturbing how quickly one falls into this game, and I realize I'm done with it. I want to finish it loving him. "You look so great like this, Christian. I've never imagined having your body like this. It's delicious." I whisper in his ear as I rock against him. He's openly whimpering now, head thrown back as I ride him. "I love you," I add, kissing his ear. Tears blur my vision as tension builds in my stomach. He's tense, holding himself back. That's torture too, I think. "Stop, baby, just let it happen."

He says something that sounds like, 'I love you, too', but then he comes apart in my arms. His body tightens against the restraints, and he comes hard, bringing me with him. I collapse against him, our chests heaving for air as I lay next to him. Seconds later, he's jingling the handcuffs. "Blindfold," he whispers tiredly. Surprised he let me use it at all, I quickly remove it at his request. He blinks at me, brows pulled together. "That was better than I ever remember it being." I grin at him, but deep in my heart I'm disgusted with myself. "Cuffs," he says, not liking being restrained anymore. I undo those too, hands and feet, freeing him. He instantly curls up against me, and I hold him, stroking his hair.

He's asleep within minutes, but I lay wide awake, unable to wrap my mind around it. He likes pain, he likes being hurt. What else would he let me do to him? I shudder, holding him closer at the thought. I never want to do this again, ever. I shut my eyes and drift off into an uneasy, dreamless, sleep.

When I wake up, I feel Christians weight still on my chest. I peer down at him, smiling at how peaceful he looks. My smile is instantly replaced my horror, "Holy fuck!" He jolts, alert immediately.

"What's wrong?"

His face has a shadow of a bruise on his cheek, from his jaw to the corner of his eye. His neck has two dark red hickeys, and the bite mark on his neck is a dark black and blue color. Not to mention the claw marks on his perfect chest. I stare, mouth hanging open, disgusted with myself for not knowing my own strength. Oblivious, he reaches out to touch me, and I grab his hand. His wrist has a dark red ring around it, matching the other one. He looks at it, frowning.

"Ana, that happens, it's okay," he says gently.

I shake my head, shifting out from under him. "You're covered in marks, Christian." I head for the bathroom, knowing he'll follow. I stand in front of the mirror, and he appears next to me.

"Oh," he says quietly, examining himself. "I asked you to, it's alright."

"No, it's not," I'm angry again. "I should have known better. You will get carried away, I should have never done that."

He wraps his arms around my waist from behind, "Ana, baby. I've had worse than this before. They don't hurt, I like it. It'll all heal and I'll be fine."

I sob and he kisses me, I can't believe I hurt my fifty-shades. What if he's fifty-one shades now? "No crying, baby. Please, I'm happy, that felt wonderful." He's desperate.

"You used the safe word," I whisper, so it couldn't have felt that good.

He kisses my shoulder, "I know, for a second I couldn't breathe." His reply makes me sob again. God, I'm a fool. "Baby, stop. All I want you to do is come to bed and hold me."

I sniffle, and he drags me past the Red Room of Pain, and into our bedroom. He curls up on the bed, looking up at me. He almost looks sad, "Ana, for the first time in my life; I just want to be held. Please, hold me?" He whispers. I look down, I can't look at the marks I left on him. "Ana," I hear the tears in his voice, my body goes cold. I look up, and he's curled on his side, knees tucked in, arms around himself. He's sobbing silently into the pillow, and I jump up behind him. I take him in my arms and press my face into his neck, not caring that I'm wetting him with my tears. His arms are squeezing his chest tightly, and I interlace our fingers. "I feel like my chest is breaking," he says, puzzled. I press a kiss to his cheek and lean up slightly to rest mine right against his.

"Why are you crying?" I ask, kissing him again.

"I can't believe I want that," he chokes out, "I enjoy being hurt like that, Ana. I never get it anymore, and sometimes I need it so bad I just want to hurt myself."

I gasp, hugging him tighter, "Never, ever hurt yourself. Ever, please. Why have you never told me?"

He thinks for a moment, "Because I never knew how. I told you everything that happened to me, I just didn't know how to say it. I cut myself a few times, before El-Mrs. Robinson." He admits, all in one breath. I'm overwhelmed again.

"What did Dr. Flynn say about it?"

He chuckles slightly through his tears, "He said it had something to do with me feeling out of control inside. I told you, it's easier to wear pain than to admit it."

I can't stop pressing kisses to him temple, "Too much pain, Christian. If you let it bottle up so much, you'll break one day and really do some damage."

"I have to hurt something though, Ana. Someone else, or myself. It has to be myself." I clench my jaw.

"That's why you had subs, to hold it off. That's why you constantly get angry, and why you like rough sex." He nods, sniffing and inhaling shakily.

"Please don't be afraid of me, I'm not a monster. Well, I don't want to be. I just can't stop thinking about it sometimes."

"I'm not afraid of you, baby. We can work through this and figure it out, but you have to promise me when you feel like hurting yourself or anyone else, you will come to me right away," my voice is shaking, and I want to be closer to him, like under his skin.

"I promise," he whispers, shutting his eyes. He's exhausted again, and I can feel the rest of his energy draining from his body. Shaking like a leaf, he rests his naked back against my naked chest. I hum quietly as his chest starts to rise and fall slower, and he's asleep. I don't know if I'll ever sleep again.