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KYNK	By : PastelTears Category: A through F > Fifty Shades Trilogy Views: 5124 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a word of fiction; all content bearing resemblance to persons or specific events is purely coincidental. This is a non-profit posted work of fiction, and I do not own the Fifty Shades trilogy. (c) All Rights Reserved

Chapter List
- 1-Ball & Chain
- 2-Fifty Shades of Gay
- 1
- 2
I was going to kill him.
Since I’d been appointed as the chief secretary of Elliott “Just Elliott” Grimme, life had become far more complicated that I’d been anticipating. When he’d more or less challenged me to accept the position, I’d accepted out of defiance and hadn’t taken the time to consider how horrible of a decision it could be.
Well, here I was, several weeks later, draped over my desk with an empty tumbler in my grasp. The stress was real.
During those two months, I’d learned two things very well; for one, all adults were liars. Work was not fun. It wasn’t even remotely enjoyable, especially if you happened to work for an overly demanding prick. And two, it was actually possible to be too exhausted for sleep itself. I hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in nearly a week, what with all that’d been going on, and my body was suffering the consequences. If I had the energy, I’d have strangled Elliott Grimme where he stood, but I could barely curl my fingers tight enough to hold a pen, so carrying out that vendetta would have to wait.
Until then, I would be whispering sweet nothings to the blotter cushioning my head.
By eleven, I’d been relinquished. Jung practically had to carry me to my room, under the impression that I was heavily drunk. I didn’t have the energy to explain that I was just drained. Yeah, if someone could lock me away in a stasis chamber for the next two hundred years, that’d be great. The sleep would be well beyond the degree of welcome.
That night, I slept in my clothes. It was the best sleep I’d gotten all week - the sort that was so deep you didn’t even have the pleasure of a dream. I’d slept into the afternoon the next day, grateful for the fact that it was Saturday and that no work was required of me for that day in particular. When I woke, it was to find that I’d half-undressed myself and that I had one new message awaiting my attention.
Bleary-eyed, I swiped over the notif and squinted at the tiny text.
Anonymous:
‘What are your plans for lunch today?’
Elliott. The last person I wanted to hear from on my day off. Couldn’t this fool take a hint? I wanted to sleep. I wanted some peace. I wanted-
My stomach made some sort of angry, inhuman noise and it was followed by the horrid cramping that only came with serious hunger. Right. I’d been subsisting on coffee for the majority of the week, and last night had been no exception. I’d worked through lunch and dinner, then I’d had the nerve to sleep my way through breakfast. When I typed my response, I was careful not to sound too particularly concerned.
‘Undecided.’
Ha. If a one-word message wasn’t enough to imply I wasn’t exactly up for chats, I didn’t know what else would be.
Anonymous:
‘The Peacock an hour from now. Meet me.’
Groaning, I checked the time and inwardly scowled. Elliott Grimme was going to ruin my day off.
Instead of dwelling on that fact, I dragged myself out of bed, stripped out of my work clothes, and tossed them into a nearby hamper. A quick shower later and I was feeling a little more human. Face washed, teeth brushed, hair combed - there, now I even looked civilised, not that he deserved it. I guess I still had an image to maintain, though.
I kept it simple with a pair of close-fitting black jeans, a Pogues band tee, and a cardigan. Onto my feet went a pair of combat boots, and I’d left most of my hair down, save my fringe, which had grown out in recent months. I tied that section up into a little ponytail and took my leave, slapping a note on the fridge for Jung just in case he wondered where I’d gone.
Out in the city, it was chilly. I instantly regretted not having pulled on something a little warmer, but it was too late. I lived close enough to The Peacock that I could walk, so I wandered down the pavement with my shoulders hunched and hands buried deep into my pockets. At the very least, it wasn’t raining today - or raining yet. One glance up at the darkening sky told me all I needed to know.
The Peacock was a classy little two-tier establishment with a full lounge and bar on the second floor. Much to my surprise, Elliott Grimme wasn’t there, because he’d been instead posted out front and looking ever so nonchalant beneath the day’s gloom. Had he actually waited for me? Oh, this was going to be good.
I decided right then and there that he wasn’t going to get off easy and marched my ass right up to him. I had to put on the best displeased expression I could and make him feel guilty for dragging me out on a day that was supposed to be solely mine and mine alone.
“What is it now?” I knew it sounded rude, but I wasn’t in a polite sort of mood.
“Well, I was going to offer to buy you lunch, but if you’re busy, I can find other ways to spend my time.” He said, oh so matter-of-factly.
Shit. Okay, stupid decision, but he was still dead wrong for disturbing me. “Oh. Well. . . I guess since we’re already here, it’s fine.”
Elliott opened the door before me and I strode in with a quiet thanks, unsure what to make of his gesture. We found a table, parked ourselves at it, and a waitress soon came by to set us up with menus. Elliott didn’t even bother to look.
“Do you eat meat?”
“Yes?”
“We’ll have two of the organic roast turkey and aged white cheddar over multigrain ciabatta, spinach, no lettuce, tomatoes, vegan spread, no mayo.”
We would?
Elliott smiled at me. “You’ll love it.”
“Coffee?” She asked.
“Tea, please.” He’d stepped in before I could catch her, and in the next moment she was gone, leaving us to chat amongst ourselves.
“Do you always order for your lunch dates?” I could feel the annoyance bleed onto my features.
“Only when I’m nice.” He quipped, offering one of his signature smiles.
“Speaking of which, I’m still not even entirely sure why I’m here. Did you need something?” Besides my foot up your ass?
My words must have struck a nerve because he didn’t say anything for several moments, as if re-evaluating the situation. Why I bothered to say anything at all was beyond me, but I quickly followed up with, “I mean work related. Is that why you called me out here today?”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “No, not at all. Actually, I felt badly about these past couple weeks. Thank you for being so resourceful. I’m sure you must be exhausted?”
“You have no idea--” Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! I’d forgotten for two seconds that he was my boss. This couldn’t end well.
Elliott laughed - an actual laugh, dimples and all, and it was the first time I had ever been so ridiculously dazed. His eyes lit up like nothing else when he laughed, the perfectly sculpted features of his face managing to look even more handsome when he smiled. This was just pathetic. My emotions were so fickle today.
“You’re certainly different.” Okay . . . ? Good thing? “I like different- thank you- it’s more amusing than with any of my previous secretaries.”
“So glad that I amuse you.” I said without an inkling of inflection.
Elliott slid the glass of chilled green tea toward me and I sipped. Oh, God it was refreshing. I almost hated myself for how much better it felt to have this rather than the coffee I’d been originally plotting on.
“So, what is this? Is this you bribing me to stay? Scared I’ll quit?”
“This is me thanking you. Why, were you thinking of quitting?” He did that thing with his brow - as if he were daring me to say ‘yes’.
“No, but I’m going to need another day off soon if you’re going to keep working me like this.”
“Deal. What else should I know?” The way he twisted the straw between his fingertips was distracting.
Wait - backtrack - he wanted me to actually talk? “Huh?”
“What do you like - not like? Is there anything that you want?”
There was too much I wanted. And why was he being so nice? This felt like a trap. “You mean about my job?”
“Let’s move on to something that isn’t work related. Tell me about your interests.”
“My interests. . . well, I like to read - I do some photography. Um. . . I can play the piano?”
“Brilliant.” Was it?
“Sometimes I go drinking? Clubs. . . movie theatres?”
“Sounds fairly typical.”
“Well, what were you expecting? It’s not like I’m a part time arsonist - I’m not sure how exciting my personal life could really be.”
“Tell me about your preferences, then.”
My preferences? “I don’t follow.”
“Bathory Estate.”
I choked on my tea. Clearing my throat helped a little, but we still got a few looks. “Wh- Grim- Elliott, you can’t just say that anywhere.”
He scoffed. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not exactly PG, you know? God . . .”
I watched him glance about the cafe and shrug. “I don’t see any children. Why avoid the question?”
“Says the man who never answers any of mine.” I snapped, sipping at my tea a moment later to cover the awkwardness.
“You said you hadn’t gone there for a Dominant, so what are your preferences?”
“Honestly . . . I’m not sure.” And I wasn’t. “I’ve never exactly participated. Watched, sure. But I’ve never. . . been part of the scene. Mostly, I go there to unwind and spend time with people I’m familiar with, I guess.”
Whatever I’d said must not have reached him, because he seemed to be musing intently on something. “You’re telling me you have no idea what your preferences are?” I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing for him to look so surprised, but it made me nervous.
“Right. . .”
The waitress brought our sandwiches and for just a few moments had successfully put the conversation on hold. I was only too grateful. For the next half hour or so, I did my best to keep my mouth occupied so that I didn’t have to answer anymore of his invasive questions. I even felt like I was succeeding - until Elliott Grimme had opened up his mouth again.
“You’re attracted to men, right?”
Another opportunity to choke, but this time I at least managed to nod. “Women don’t exactly inspire anything in me. Is that relevant?”
“I’m not sure yet.” He answered plainly before biting into his sandwich, an odd twinkle in his eye.
Oh, how I would have given anything to terminate this conversation. Luckily, there wasn’t much talk after that, but once we’d finished lunch, he had insisted that we visit the aquarium.
While I didn’t exactly see the harm in this, it did seem a little fishy - what with the spontaneous invite (pun definitely intended). I was almost certain it would just be another opportunity for him to ask more of his stupid questions.
Except . . . he didn’t say much of anything. Elliott seemed to be more focused on the sea creatures that surrounded us than any small issue with my preferences or otherwise. It wasn’t until we’d come to the jellyfish that he’d even given me a second look. The last couple of people moved on to the next exhibit and left us to stand in silence.
“Ezra.”
“Hm?”
“All of these creatures. . . wouldn’t you say that they know their place?”
Knew their place? In the domain of the sea? “Sure. I’d say that much, at least.” I answered cluelessly. Foolishly.
“Then, would you agree that it was only right that you knew yours?”
What?! “If I knew my place?” I could hear the shock in my voice, my face numb, and before I could register what was happening, I was lurching forward and being spun around, back pressed up against the glass. My eyes darted about the dark space, barely illuminated by the blue light of the tanks. Everyone really had gone.
“You don’t even know what you want.” He murmured.
Oh, shit. He was too close - too close to my face. I could see all of his handsome features in stark definition despite the lighting, from the length of his lashes to the curve of his lips. Goddamn he was beautiful. My pulse picked up, and the closer he drifted, the harder it was to breathe. I licked my lips and swallowed hard, but the words wouldn’t come out.
Elliott’s fingers wrapped about my wrists and trapped them above me to the glass, his face inching toward mine until I could feel his warm breath. My lips parted, lids falling shut, but before his lips could fully press to mine, he’d withdrawn and released my wrists. A couple of people filtered through but only one of them stuck around.
“Let’s go.” He declared, sliding his hands into his pockets before he’d turned to stride back from whence we’d come. I was still in shock, a fingertip brushing over my lips. It had barely been a kiss, but every inch of me had reacted. I knew no-one would be able to see in such dim lighting, but I could feel the warm flush of my skin. Before I left the jellyfish room, I had to skilfully adjust myself. Nobody needed to see that. My hardon was nobody else’s business - least of all the jackass who’d left me hanging with it.
When we emerged it was already the evening. Elliott offered me a ride home, and for lack of a better suggestion, I’d accepted. It was a quiet ride to my place, but before I had the chance to get out of the car, he’d caught me by the wrist.
“Think carefully on what I said.” It wasn’t optional, apparently.
“Right.” Too bad I was thinking more about what he looked like with his clothes off. “Thanks for lunch.”
Elliott smiled, fingers releasing their grip. “Anytime.”
Right now - in this car - that sounded good. Pressing my lids shut, I got myself together and stepped out at last. He didn’t drive off until I’d disappeared inside, and I took my sweet time getting up to the loft. I wasn’t sure I was ready to really sit and sort through everything that’d just happened.
* * *
That evening I’d crawled into bed after a Netflix binge that I didn’t dare to repeat. At last, I had calmed down. My mind was clear and I had every intention of filling up my Sunday with activities of my choosing. This mental compilation was interrupted by the chime of my phone. I half-expected it to be Jung, drunk-texting me that he couldn’t come home tonight.
Wrong.
It was him again.
Elliott:
‘Are you asleep yet?’
Sighing, I clicked into the response field and answered with a simple ‘no’.
Elliott:
‘Call me.’
Sorry? Had I misread? Now? What time what it? A quick glance to the corner of my screen told me that it was nearing midnight already.
There was always the option of ignoring the text, but then I’d never know what he wanted from me. It was the only reason, I convinced myself, that I’d hit the call button and pressed the phone to my ear.
“Ezra.”
“Yes, Elliott - you do know what time it is, right?”
“I’m fully aware. Are you using a headset?”
“No - why?” my confusion must have been obvious even without visual.
“Fetch one.”
Fetch? He wanted me to fetch one? I was his secretary, sure, but I didn’t think it’d get this far. I was nobody’s dog. Even if I did lean over to my nightstand to sift through my drawer and pick out the neatly wound pair that’d come with my phone when I’d first purchased it. Plugging them into my ears and then into the audio jack, I set the phone off to one side and fell back against my pillows again, sliding down until I was comfortable enough to talk.
“Okay, now what is it? Is this going to be a long conversation?”
“You’d better hope so. Let’s play a game.”
“What kind of game?” I demanded warily. I still believed entirely that Elliott was capable of some serious evil.
“We’re going to pretend for the next-- ten minutes, that you belong to me.”
I shot up, unsure if I had heard him correctly. “Belong to you?”
“Lie down.” He ordered, and for just a moment, I tossed a glance at the window.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but I did anyway. Didn’t mean I wasn’t still horribly nervous about where this conversation was about to go.
“Lights off.”
I sighed. This was ridiculous. “Okay, lights are off.”
“Now close your eyes, and keep them that way.”
“They’re closed.” I didn’t know if I could take this seriously, or I was at least trying not to. Elliott’s voice was just as delicious as it was in person filtered over a phone connection. It was criminal.
“What are you wearing?”
“Er- a pair of boxers and a t-shirt.”
“Slide your hands up beneath your shirt - slowly.”
Okay, now I was really getting nervous, but I did it anyway. “Now what?”
“I want you stroke your nipples with the tips of your fingers.”
Ridiculous. I knew this, and yet I slid my fingertips up to my chest, fingertips brushing over my pierced nipples. I’d forgotten how sensitive they could be. I shivered, exhaling sharply through my nose.
“Pinch them.”
Oh, God. . . My breath caught in my throat. I was sure I must have been red from head to toe already.
“Harder.”
“Ah-”
“Now take your right hand - and slide it down into your boxers.”
I couldn’t believe I was doing this right now.
“Touch yourself for me.”
“Elliott--”
“Play the game, Ezra.” his tone was dark, but it only made the prospect all the more enticing.
I drew in a deep breath and mentally prepared myself for what I was about to do. I was already all wound up, so there was no doubt this would end badly.
I’d reached into my boxers and began to fondle myself, sighing involuntarily.
“Stroke yourself.”
Oh, God . . . he was really going to listen to all of this. I knew this and went ahead with it anyway, fingers stroking slowly at first, gradually picking up the pace. I moaned, lips parting.
“Faster.”
And I did, hand working faster, until another moan left my lips.
“I hope you understand now. . .”
Understood what? I was a little more than just preoccupied with the task at hand.
“The position that you’re in. Ezra, I can’t hear you.”
I’d been biting my lip, but when he said my name another moan had left my lips, hand working furiously. My breaths were already coming short.
“You have no idea what I’d do to you. The way I’d take you.”
“God--Elliott--”
“I’ll show you.”
All I could think of were his hands on me - Elliott between my legs - his mouth on my-
“I’m gonna’ come-” I barely managed.
“Come for me.”
“Fuck--” I could feel the warmth that spread over my hand, my hips rolling forward. Christ - what had I just done . . . ?
I was still dazed, catching my breath when I heard a quiet chuckle filter over the line. “Sleep. I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon.”
Whatever I said after that was enough, apparently. A moment later the line went dead. I shut my eyes, trying to comprehend what I’d just allowed myself to do. I was waltzing right into his trap, and worse, he hadn’t even needed to convince me. I must have had a soft spot somewhere in my skull, but I didn’t have the energy to search for it.
* * *
The next day was one long train of discomfort and confusion. I was feeling anxious from the moment I’d first gotten out of bed that morning because I knew that before long, the afternoon would roll around and Elliott would be calling me up.
“You know,” Jung started in from the couch. “You could just say no.”
“That’s the problem - even if I say no, it’s not like he’ll listen. It’s a word that probably doesn’t see much use with him.”
“All the more reason to put his ass in place. What are you, his escort? What is he summoning you for all of a sudden?”
Jung had a good point, and he seemed to know it, too. What he didn’t know, however, was what had gone down the night before, and I wasn’t about to openly explain all that to him now.
“We have unfinished business, anyway.” Hopefully by the end of our meetup, though, some clearer lines would fall into place. I refused to let myself fall for his antics again. I realised that up until then, I’d been springing to act on every little order he’d given me. I could refuse him. Absolutely. Elliott Grimme was in for a surprise today.
When he’d picked me up that afternoon, I was determined to find an opportunity to put my foot down.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re up to, but if you think that I’m just going to do this whenever you ask-” He ushered me into the car, shut the door, and left me to sit in silence for several moments.
The moment he got in, I turned my glare on him. He didn’t even so much as flinch. “I’m gonna take you sailing today.”
“Well you know what, Ell- wait, what? Sailing?”
“Put your seatbelt on.” was all he said, turning over the engine.
“You’re not going to explain?”
“No.” He offered me one of those smug little smiles of his, leaning over me to reach for the buckle and strap of the safety belt. He was close enough to kiss, mere millimetres from my face, our breaths mingling. Heat coiled in my belly, one I was becoming accustomed to feeling whenever Elliott Grimme was within two feet of me.
Then, he took us away from the loft, and I spent a majority of the drive with my eyes glued to the window. If he took me somewhere shady, I had to know where to tell the cops they’d find his body.
We arrived at the docks not too long later. Elliott got out and for the first time, I realised he was actually dressed for the occasion while I was. . . in torn jeans and a Ramones t-shirt. It didn’t seem to make a difference to him, though, because before I knew it, we were leaving the car behind.
“I’ll show you my boat.”
His boat? “Wait, you have a boat? As in . . . not a rental?”
“I sail.” he said so matter-of-factly that I almost felt stupid for asking.
“Of course you do. . .” That shouldn’t have even come as a surprise.
“Come on.” Elliott took me by the wrist and led me away, helping me onto the deck when he sensed my nervousness.
“This is your boat?”
“Well. . . yacht.”
“I know what it is. Seventy-foot, monohull. . . is it fast?”
“Very. You know boats?”
“My dad’s kind of a pirate.”
“That explains a lot.” He quipped, smirking.
The last time I’d seen the docks, I’d been praying that I didn’t regret the decision to leave dry land with this man, but the moment we’d hit open waters, I’d practically burst with excitement, arms spread.
Wind whipped at every inch of me, blowing my hair up into a whirlwind of black fire whilst Elliott took care of the steering and I bellowed out into the wind. I’d always thought that I could understand how it must’ve felt to fly - the inequivocabile high that one experienced. I was experiencing it in those moments, arms spread on the bow of just about one of the sexiest racing yachts I’d ever laid eyes on. What was more, Elliott looked like a scene straight out of a movie - dark hair whipping in the wind, sunlight reflecting on his perfect teeth, dimples ever-present, and those steel-blue eyes . . .
I should’ve realised it then, but I was slowly succumbing to the powers of his persuasion.
We cut about several times, and I took care of the sails when the winds picked up, at least pleased enough to show off what my dad had taught me. It wasn’t like I needed to impress Elliott, but if he was going to show off his yacht, then I was going to at least be on my game.
Two hours had passed before we’d returned, windswept, and my heart was still out to sea. I was sure it would take a while for me to come down from the high, but while I was still more or less walking on air, I wanted to revel.
“Hungry?” Elliott asked casually.
“Starving.” I answered without thinking.
“Say no more.”
* * *
Really, the entire evening was panning out to be a fantasy realised. I’d been dying to get back out onto the water, and now I was being taken out to dinner at one of the best seafood restaurants Seattle had to offer. I could barely contain myself at dinner, and I hardly felt sorry about it when were back in the car again and headed for our next destination. Actually, I had no clue where we were going?
“Is this destination a surprise, too?”
“Not exactly.” He pulled into a deck and soon parked amongst what I noted to be ridiculously expensive cars.
“Holy shit, is that a Maserati?”
“Let’s head in, shall we?” I heard amusement in his tone, but I was too busy pressing my nose to the window to get a better look at the vehicular embodiment of sex parked three whips down.
My door opened and I nearly fell right onto my face, but Elliott caught me by the arm and straightened me up. I’d gotten so momentarily caught up in his eyes again that I hadn’t thought to wonder where we had arrived and where he was taking me. I was, however, acutely aware of the hand that was leading me toward a lift of some sort, though.
Fast forward about five minutes and we’re ascending in one of the classiest elevators (after the one at Grimme Enterprises) I had ever had the pleasure of riding in. Not that it was all that easy to be in a such a small space with Elliott Grimme. My only saving grace had been a little old woman cradling a yorkie to her chest. She departed too soon and the moment the doors had whirred shut again, I could feel Elliott’s gaze bore into me.
The two of us had stepped into pure luxury, and I am talking marble, rich woods, orientals, the whole nine yards. The loft I shared with Jung could have easily fit inside it twice over, and the minute my shoes were off, I was wandering forward to descend into the living room.
I spied a sleek, modern kitchen and what looked to be a study farther down the hall, but my main fascination was with the seating arrangements. Just as was to be expected, they felt like heaven, too. My hands stroked over every fabric that came into my vicinity and for several moments I found myself wondering what sort of life Elliott Grimme had lived up until now.
Everything about his penthouse screamed luxury, comfort - but it didn’t feel lived in.
Lifting my gaze to meet his, what I found there was intense. Elliott looked like he wanted to sink his teeth into me and then some. I barely had the chance to ask before he was closing the distance between us.
It felt like fire, warmth spreading from where his lips found mine, and before I could convince myself to break away, it was too late. My fingers had disappeared into his silky obsidian waves. He scooped me up, then, managing all of my weight as if I’d weighed no more than a feather, and walked me across the room. We spilled over onto the Chaise, Elliott drawing me into another fiery kiss, his form looming over mine, hand hitching one of my legs up over his hip. My hands slid beneath his shirt, fingertips discovering defined muscle beneath velvety smooth skin. I whined when he broke away, breathing against his lips. My breath caught when his fingertips popped free the closure of my jeans, hand sliding its way into the front of my Calvin Klein’s. Oh, God, he was touching me.
“Ezra,” He began, pressing a kiss just below my ear, then my jaw. I sighed when those lips brushed my neck and felt his teeth graze flesh. “I want you to be my submissive.”
“What?” I was only half-listening.
Elliott’s fingers had begun to stroke at sensitive flesh. His palm felt hot where it had closed about me, and I arched away from the chaise, reaching for his wrist. He started with even strokes, fingers working me up into a steady pant, free hand pushing my shirt all the way up to reveal my pale flesh.
He laid soft bites to my skin, from my chest, to my ribs, as ventured as far as my navel, fingers tugging my fly the rest of the way open. I made the mistake of looking. My hips had begun to roll in compliment to his hand, but his strokes were torturously slow, the pad of his thumb teasing me in a way that elicited the first moan to leave my lips.
He swallowed it, lips closing over mine to lure me deep into another kiss. I begged with my hips, practically melting when his mouth left mine to instead close over one of my nipples, tongue flicking over the jewellery that pierced it and teeth catching the sensitive flesh.
“Ahh-- Elliott, please--” I groaned.
And just like that, he’d released me.
I lay there wide-eyed, panting, unfulfilled. No!
“Ezraeil. . . Say you’ll belong to me,” He began, straightening up, dropping the hem of the shirt I’d managed to pull halfway up. “And I’ll give you what you need.” The look in his eye was dark and it sent a thrill through me. There was a hunger contained there that drew me in, and I knew the moment I’d heard him speak my name that the game was over. He wasn’t playing anymore.
“And if I said yes?”
Elliott Grimme fixed me with a devilish smile, the sort that my mother had often warned me about in the days of my youth. In the depths of his eyes danced a fire just begging to be toyed with, and I was a poster child for reckless behaviour. I wanted him to brand me with it - with all the desire reflected in his gaze. He was looking at me the way nobody ever had.
He looked like he wanted to eat me alive.
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KYNK