They break for air and Owen stares at Cristina.
"You bought us a house," he grins. "With a fire pole."
"Don't get any ideas about that," Cristina warns him with a small smile. "You can play with it all that you like."
"Yes ma'am." He kisses her again. "Thank you for the house."
"Here's to our own place." Cristina raises her cup in a toast. He holds up his and they touch cups, before drinking.
"This is quite the feast," he jokes, looking down at the Chinese food containers at their feet. "You outdid yourself."
"Whatever." She downs the rest of her champagne. "I thought we'd have a little housewarming party for the two of us. Did you notice the sleeping bag?"
"I did. So no lesbian strip shows tonight?"
She rolls her eyes. "No. You only get to see me naked tonight."
"But not with the pole?" He waggles his eyebrows suggestively while grinning widely.
Cristina tries to glare but snorts instead. "No. That is your pole."
He smirks. "Then I guess I won't be sticking dollar bills in your panties."
"Owen!" She lightly slaps his arm. "What do you mean, dollar bills?"
"Oh ho! Cristina, I would gladly stick hundred dollar bills in your underwear. But only with the pole."
"Stop it," she grins, her hands moving to the zipper of his jacket. "That's sexist."
"We might as well get all of the stripper jokes over with now," he says as he shrugs off the coat and starts removing his t-shirt. "And then eventually we'll have a housewarming party with all of our friends and we'll hear them all over again."
"I prefer phallic symbol jokes," she smiles, pulling off her shirt. "That is a very big pole…"
"I like the way you think," he says huskily, kicking off his shoes. "Tell me more."
"I like thick poles," she purrs, her hands going to his belt. "I love to slide my hands around them."
"Oh yeah. You do." His breathing is a bit shaky and he swallows hard, as she swiftly yanks down his jeans.
She runs her hands up his legs as she stands, briefly grazing the bulging front of his boxers. "Mmmm. There's nothing like a strong, sturdy pole…"
"That you can wrap your legs around?" Owen grins broadly.
Once again Cristina tries to glare at Owen and fails. Instead she leans against him, laughing. "That is not a stripper pole!"
"In my imagination, it is," he chuckles against her ear, his hands reaching behind her to unhook her bra.
"You can keep imagining it," she murmurs, rubbing herself against him. "That's not the pole … I want to ride…"
He laughs. "See? You can't not make the jokes either."
Her response is to shove him, guiding him down onto the sleeping bag. She swiftly pulls off his socks, then helps him get rid of the boxers. He puts his hands behind his head and lies back, watching her with a huge smile.
Cristina reaches down and grabs the bottle of champagne. She takes a swig from it. Then she puts it back down, before standing over Owen, hands on hips. Teasingly, she runs her fingers under her loose bra. Owen smiles, as he grabs the bottle and drinks from it.
Slowly, Cristina leans forward, letting the straps slide down her arms. Her bra lands on Owen's impressive abs. She grasps it and slowly pulls it off of him, letting her hand brush up against his erection, making him hiss.
Smirking, she stands tall, casually unbuttoning her jeans. She enjoys Owen's reactions, especially when he starts touching himself. She slowly peels off her clothing, stopping only to drink more from the bottle. When she's finally nude, she grabs the bottle and teasingly pours a small amount of champagne over her breasts. Owen groans, then sits up and grasps her hips, pulling her down onto the sleeping bag beside him.
His mouth goes to her breasts, as he laps up the champagne. She lies back, rubbing her legs against his, threading her fingers through his hair. Owen lazily licks and nips his way up to her mouth.
"I really appreciate the house," he breathes against her lips, before kissing her again. His hands wander over her damp skin, squeezing and caressing. His fingers find their way inside her, gently probing for the sweet spot. She groans and bites his lower lip, making him chuckle. His thumb starts to push against her, eliciting deep groans from her. He grins, watching her throw her head back and scream, as her orgasm jolts through her.
Cristina slowly returns to the here and now as Owen positions himself between her legs, slowly easing into her. He places soft kisses along her jaw as he sets the pace. She wraps her limbs around him, moving her hips with his. He slowly increases the pace of his thrusts, face buried in her dark hair, as she runs her hands over his arms and shoulders.
Cristina whispers in his ear, as Owen empties himself into her, with spurts and grunts. She sighs, as he shifts his weight off of her, holding her close, laying his head against her shoulder. She strokes his hair and quietly reflects that however numb she feels in her professional life, getting intimate with Owen always stirs strong feelings within her. Good feelings that last.
"This will be a great house," he mutters. "I'll make it a home for us. If there is something you decide that you want, tell me. I'll make it happen."
"I just want us," she murmurs, closing her eyes.
"You got it," he promises.
She smiles, then sits up and snags his t-shirt off of the floor. She pulls it on, then grabs a container of food. "Start with the kitchen. We need a microwave oven," she snorts, passing him the cooled food as he sits up. He merely grins as they start to eat their first meal in their new home.