A/N: So, my first Fifty Shades fic. Please beware of the rating, and let me know what you think. This probably won't be your cup of tea. It's not really mine either, I just like being naughty.

I lift my head from the pillow, searching for the warmth that's usually curled around me, to find it missing. Where's Christian? The rain is beating down against the large glass windows that frame our bedroom, and I can see the white mountains of Aspen from where I lie. It's so beautiful here.

I slide out of bed and search for my robe, pulling it close to combat the chill that I feel. The house is quiet too.

The rooms are empty. No sign of Mia, Ethan, Kate or Elliot anywhere. What is going on?

It's only as I reach the bottom of the stairs that I hear the gentle sizzle of something cooking in the kitchen, and smell the most wonderful smell. My stomach rumbles in response, reminding me that I haven't eaten anything since our early dinner the previous night.

The gentle streams of a Snow Patrol song, accompanied by a very out-of-tune voice make me laugh, as my eyes come to lie on the culprit; Elliot. Dressed in boxers and nothing else. He's leaning over the frying pan, making bacon, and singing to himself. He's wearing a ridiculous chef apron that has a picture of a naked lady on the front.

"Good morning," he beams at me as he realises I'm standing there. I grin back, leaning against the door jamb.

"Good morning, yourself. Nice apron." He winks at me and I roll my eyes. Typical Elliot. "Where is everybody?"

"Kate and Mia went shopping for some last minute things for tonight, and Ethan and Christian are driving them. Well, Christian's driving. I think Ethan might be in love with my sister ..." he deadpans, and then narrows his eyes, mockingly accusitory. "I believe you have something to do with that pair."

I flush unwillingly and then shrug again, feigning nonchalance. "I don't know what you're talking about." He just laughs in reponse.

I marvel at how comfortable this is. How easy it is to joke with Elliot and not worry that he's going to have some crazy mood swing and go off in a huff. I love Christian with all my heart, but it's tiring to argue with him so often.

I take a seat at the miniature dining table in the corner of the kitchen and watch him cook. Watch as he sings away to my favourite song, his cheeks showing his adorable dimples occasionally. And how his muscles in his back flex when he reaches up for the plates - wait, what? What?! I shake my head to rid myself of my wayward thoughts, and feel myself flush again. Did I really just think that?

Yeah, you did, my subconscious has her arms crossed and is glaring at me over her glasses. My inner goddess isn't paying attention - she's still mindlessly gawking at the muscles.

"Ana, will you do me a favour and turn the heat down on the eggs for me." He turns and fixes me with another smile, as I nod slowly. The cooker is one of those high-tech machines that goes by touch and has no buttons whatsoever. I press the circle that slowly reduces the heat. He thanks me and removes the pan of bacon off the ring. "Here, try some. Is it ready?"

He holds out a spoon with tiny, diced chunks of bacon on it. I take a bite and nod. "Yep. It's ready. When are the others due back?"

He glances at his watch. "They've been gone an hour, so not long."

There's an awkward silence, and suddenly, I realise I'm standing far too close to him. Our bodies are almost touching, and I can smell his aftershave. He smells great. His breathing slows fractionally, and then I feel a pull. A strange pull, like the electricity I feel with Christian, but different. Less passionate, but more exciting. The prospect of doing something that's not allowed. His pupils dilate.

I come to my senses and step back. "Sorry," I mutter, my face as red as a fire truck. Dammit! I step back more, and he grins at me cheekily.

"What are you apologising for?"

Really? He wants to know? For standing too close? For thinking indecent thoughts about my brother-in-law? "I don't know. It seemed appropriate," is what I manage instead.

He dishes up a plate for himself and a plate for me, and then heads towards the drawer that holds the silverware as I decide what plate I want. He places the fork and knife on my plate, brushing past me and I feel everything. I stifle a groan but I can't prevent my eyes flickering closed.

"Are you okay?"

I snap my eyes open and turn to face him, trying to keep my face straight. "Mm-hmm."

"You seem ... different."

"No, I'm fine." He grabs my wrist to pull me back as I turn away, and the contact is so unexpected that I drop my plate and not only does it smash, but the food goes everywhere. Neither of us move. The tension in the room seems to throb between us, coaxing us to do something that we really shouldn't even be thinking about. And suddenly, he's pulling me towards him, his lips on mine.

I groan as his hands skirt down my body to my ass and pull me flush against him. I feel every muscle against my skin. I tangle my hands in his hair, holding him close as his tongue gains entry to my mouth and explores. He's such a damn good kisser, his tongue stroking against mine. I can't help but think of his tongue on other areas of my body.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he murmurs against my neck as he places kisses beneath my ear, nibbling down to my collarbone and across my shoulder. He's pulling on the straps of my silk nightgown, slipping it down my arms, and suddenly, it's pooled at my feet, and I'm wearing nothing else. He steps back to look at me, his blue eyes darkening as he takes me in. I bite my lip out of habit, the chill getting to me. My nipples extend under his hot gaze.

He grabs me and lifts me up onto the counter, my legs wrapped around his waist, as his mouth descends onto my breasts, biting and sucking. I tilt my head back, leaning against the cupboard behind me; it's too much. His tongue flicks my skin and I melt around him as though I have no control over myself.

You have no control over yourself, my subconscious reminds me. You're about to fuck your husband's brother! She's shouting, but I'm stoically ignoring her, because this feels so good. I bite his lip as his mouth returns to mine and he makes a strangled groaning noise that's so hot, I almost expire on the spot. And I'm reaching out for him, trailing my nails across his wide, sculptured chest, and down his stomach, lower and lower until I locate the waistband of his boxers. I don't bother to pull them down, but rather reach inside and find him, stroking him slowly. He goes to grab my wrist and stop me, but changes his mind, his hand closed over mine, guiding me.

"Fuck," he breathes, leaning forward and opening his eyes. "Stop. Please, stop." I do as I'm told, barely able to remove my hand before he's lifting me again, slamming me against the wall, and yanking his boxers off himself. And then he's plunging inside me, relentlessly. I cry out; it's so good. He's bigger than Christian. He's ... I'm going to ... ugh. I hold his head to my chest as he pounds into me, each thrust edging me higher and higher until I'm almost at the top. I bite my lip and suddenly he moves. With one arm, he clears the dining table, and practically throws me onto it. I hold onto his biceps as he jerks his hips, gyrating himself so delectably inside of me that I'm back within a second. Back at the top of the precipice, ready to jump.

The front door opens, and I hear the hustle and bustle of four people entering out of the cold and rainy weather. I hear jackets unzipping and bags rustling. Shit!

Elliot stills momentarily, and then leans down, close to my ear. "Come on, Ana. Give it to me, and they'll never have to know." His voice is laced with desire and salacious need. He begins to thrust again, slower. No, I need faster. Come on, quicker! My mind is screaming at me to get away from him, get dressed. Don't let Christian find you like this, for God's sake. But I can't stop. I want this. The evil desire in me is building again, and the slower he goes, the more desperate I become.

"Oh, please," I beg, and it takes only a slight change in angle and I explode around him. Everything goes black around the edges of my vision, and I'm whimpering as he follows me, spilling into me, and then relaxing, spent. I push him off me quickly, reaching for my nightdress as I throw his boxers at him. He grins, pulling them on, and then pulling me back against him. He's still half-hard.

His breath tickles my ear as he gently tucks my hair behind it, and lowers his voice, his hands reaching around to touch me through the silky satin of my clothes.

"I've never fucked Kate like that."

A/N2: Partly because I'm a bad girl, and partly because my imagination likes to run away with me. Also, I dislike Kate. But don't get me wrong, I love Ana/Christian. They're my number one ship, so this was kinda hard to write. But kinda fun too.