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My Little Lost Christian	By : TheScientist Category: A through F > Fifty Shades Trilogy Views: 7481 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Fifty Shades Of Grey or any of the characters from it. I am not making any money from the writing if this story.

Chapter List
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This is a short prologue to my first bit of writing in this forum. I have always been fascinated by Christian's relationship with Elena and decided to write a different take than most people have which I feel gives a better explanation to his ties to her. It may be hard to read at times but I hope it's worth it! Please let me know if you enjoy it so I can post more!

My Little Lost Christian: Prologue (Elena Lincoln POV)
I remember the numbness starting in my toes. At first I didn't notice it, but when I started to struggle to stay on my knees I became undeniably aware that something was horribly wrong. I remember grabbing what felt like fistful of skin in both hands, my grip on his hot flesh almost inhuman. There was a sound...low and guttural and raw...and at first I thought it was his, because the voice I heard was not my own. It was like I was watching myself. Perched on a chandelier, swinging nauseatingly until it broke into a million pieces and sent me crashing down into my body. My resting place. I blinked hard three or four times, gathering myself as I realized soon enough that aside from my eyes I was frozen solid. Rigid. My focus returned and I let my eyes slide down as it did. My hands were full of him. His solid, muscular hips an uneasy shade of red...lined with scrapes and torn flesh that I knew matched up to my own fingers. They shook at the thought. His exquisitely sculpted back shone with sweat and shook beneath me. Rounded at the shoulders and tensed beyond recognition. His arms taut above his head, each hand furiously gripping pillows that twisted around his white knuckles. His head buried so far into the bed that I waited with a hitch to watch him rise and fall just briefly. He was breathing. His copper brown hair a regular mess as it gathered protectively over his face and neck. My eyes traveled down his spine as he shook, still frozen beneath me. Slowly I dared myself to take it in...his perfect ass in the air, even though his knees had long since given way to his punishment and he now only barely risen off the bed. All he could stand, I thought, and probably only to keep his cock from contacting the mattress. I shuddered as my mouth hung open and dry, my senses continuing to make their heinous return. I saw what I had done.
The unfriendly black appendage that was tightened around my body by threatening looking leather buckles and straps was buried entirely inside of him. I blinked hard again and I'm sure I mouthed words that wouldn't come. Couldn't come. No. I'm sorry. My Christian. All fell silent. I released my hold on him only slightly, still holding him in place...as I felt my stomach turn over a million times at once. I retreated from him in what I know now was a movement too swift. As I pulled from the tightness of him I felt his body's confusion and then I heard it. The sound. He screamed so long and hard and loud into the pillow I thought it might catch on fire. He screamed until he was out of breath and offered just a wheeze of an utterance as his back tightened and then collapsed under me. And then he gave way. The scream was the release he needed and he fell flat on the bed beneath me. Quivering. Aching. Freeing me from him. The slick black length popped from his body and hung between my legs, adding to the unbearable shame that was growing inside me and threatening my steeled composure.
No. I thought it. I mouthed the words. And finally they came in short, breathless nonsensical fashion. My eyes locked on his body. The strength of a growing man had evaporated before me and left only the shaking shell of a victim. My victim. Not my Christian. My world was turning black and white before me. I tried to gain composure and make sense of where I had just been, what I had just done. Then, slicing through the darkness I saw it. Bright red with hate and disgust. Seeping from him like tears. I had punished him, torn him, broken him. His body lay still, unaware of the damage it had actually endured. I skid back onto my ankles, trying not to pass out as I watched him. Unsure what to do next. No, no, no, no....not this. I didn't mean to...I was lost in...I thought it...my excuses all rolled in like tide and back out to sea: useless. As I fell back away from him, his knees instinctively drew to his chest. He protected himself in a way only he could. He drew up into fetal position, his face still buried. His body quivering. Leaving a slight trail of blood as a testament to the insult I had left with him. He was muttering something quietly, breathlessly into his pillow. I blinked hard and strained to hear.
"yellow...yellow...yellow..."
Over and over he safe worded and my heart seemed to freeze as I wondered how long he had been offering his unheard plea. Where had I gone?! And more importantly, how could I ever get back. A million words I wanted to speak. A million things I wanted to offer. I was numb. Glued to the site of the man I had tormented. Who had taken a punishment no one deserved.
"Oh. Christian..."
I whispered and choked on a sob as I noticed the use of his first name illicited a subtle softening of his body. Maybe at least he knew he was out of the dark. I so rarely called him Christian. Mostly because using his beautiful first name connected me to him in a way that frightened me. I inhaled sharply and steeled myself again those rising emotions, unwelcome as they were.
"Shower."
I commanded low and harsh in a tone I wasn't sure had escaped me. But as he clumsily stumbled to his feet, keeping his face hidden from mine, I knew he had heard me. And even after my betrayal, he obeyed. His usually swift and graceful movements betrayed by uncertain steps and quaking knees. Thighs smeared with my abuse. Arms wrapped protectively around his bare chest. I watched him disappear into the bathroom and finally sat back into the mattress. Closing my eyes tightly I fumbled at the buckles in my hips. My skin was raw and chafed and it stung as I removed what now felt like a torture apparatus. Earlier I stroked it lovingly and forced Christian to fondle and tease at it...feeling supremely sexy as he stroked himself and mine simultaneously. The memories pounded in an aching and confused...and warped mind.
I lifted my eyes to the bathroom and choked back another sigh as I felt my eyes stinging with tears. What was this. What had I done to him? What had I done to me? And how could I undo it. I stood on legs as shaky as his had been and walked carefully towards the bath, unsure of whether I should approach him or not. I stood nervously in the door. Nervous. Around my Christian. This was new. Through the large pane of glass I watched him stand under the water. Completely still, unwavering, his head cast down as the water rushed through his hair and over his strong shoulders.
In all my fucked up ways of trying to save this boy-man, I realized in that moment I had inflicted more damage than anyone. The pimp. The crack whore. I was the monster. And I had to save us both...before it was too late.
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My Little Lost Christian