Launcelot
Christine met her lover's eyes in the night . . . he touched her cheek and then her hair. His touch was as possessive as her husband's had been only softer. She blushed as he grazed the corner of her mouth; groaning as he pressed his thumb on the tender pressure point on her neck and then licked his earlobe. He closed his eyes and let the sensation wash over him, let her dainty little lips coax and prod him.
"Do you want me my darling?" he said in the most secretive of tones, which implied that he knew what they were doing was wrong but did not care. They kissed in the fading moonlight the silver moon-glow of the night become duller and duller, as a sunset burning on a day meant for mourning. Her lips were soft and wet as the caressed his firmer ones with passion, their tongues danced and twirled around one another in the step as hot as a Spanish tango.
"Erik..." she moaned and pressed against him in wanton. He growled and pressed her down to the beach in a heap of passion that would not abate. Her sweet little lips rubbed against his own, inexperience and longing mixing into one. He opened for her when he felt her tongue run along the seam of his lips, begging for entrance to the haven of his mouth. Erik groaned softly when that wet little instrument made its way inside, showing him without words what she wished he could do for her in return. He followed her lead, his own tongue almost desperately dueling with hers. She made a soft mewling sound against his mouth, and Erik felt his body erupt into flames.
Her hands left his cheeks and traveled downward, wrapping her arms around his neck. The action caused her entire body to pressed against his, pressing softness against his unbearable hardness. His own hands hesitantly made their way into her hair, unknowing if she would welcome such a touch. Christine seemed to agree and he could actually feel her smile against his mouth. When she pulled away from him Erik found that he was crying out, but now from painful love. Taking both of his hands within her own she led him from the outer rim of the gown she ore and caused him to tare it from her with fever.
"E-rik!" she cried out and pressed her sheath in-wards to cover his sword and he gave that little wicked grin of his that she always found sexy . He nuzzled her neck with a sort of purr and bit gently at the softness of her neckline. She panted and arched into him as he bent over her to capture her mouth in the softness of his and stroked her creamy line in the valley between her breast with the pad of his forefinger. He smiled his sexy little smile and decided that his finger had enough of her cleavage and stuck it in his mouth; tasting her sweetness.
Licking his lips he said in the huskiest of voices: "You taste like the honey of a fire-bee." he meant it too, she was hot and addicting like nothing else he would ever experience. She giggled that mysterious little way of hers that always sent him up in flames and he pushed himself in further, his jogging instrument attempting to break through the cotton shield of her pants. She yelped and gave another mewl gripping his hair like a life line.
"Not yet darling..." she whispered in his ear and then got up on her knees in front of him. "Let me give you a little present first." and then she pressed her hands on his muscled chest and smiling prettily shoved him gently to the sand. She felt his knees first and then her hands traveled lower to the hardening length of his groin. She bent her head and sucked a bead of salty moisture from his chest through the fabric of his shirt. Her long dainty hands caressed the flesh of his masculinity with the skill of an experienced lover.
Erik could not hold back the moan that escaped his lips and caught at her hair in desperation, his lustful cries turned to whimpers of pleasure. Her hands found his tip and massaged gently to ease his pressure, but gave way to a more egging caress that caused his breathing to become fast and labored. He leaned over and with an ungraceful motion quickly captured her mouth in a rough kiss. She smiled and touched his chest with her left hand slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt and help him to struggle free of it.
Christine played with the little black hairs on his chest and kissed him deeply. Groaning Erik pulled her on top of him and began to touch the places where he had so finely memorized. His hands worked in the sheaths of her bosom and in the folds under her breast cupping their weight with his large palms; stroking them with calloused fingers, well-worn with strength from years as a pianist. He thumbed the nipples into hard rosy peaks begging for the little attentions of his mouth, the pampering swirl of his tongue.
He relented and gave each nipple one swirl, smiling as Christine shivered and gave a soft moan of, "oh..." before shutting her eyes. He pressed her down and laid himself atop her now unable to bear the space between them any longer. He kissed her, running down the lines of her naked form. He rocked into the natural cradle of her thighs and then deeper harder in her until he had to let go. So doing he crushed his mouth down on hers and gave into a mind-shattering release.
They laid together exhausted and spent.
It was well into the night when Erik said:" Christine we can't go on like this."
"What do you mean?" asked she.
Erik began to sing:
We kiss in a shadow,
We hide from the moon,
Our meetings are few,
And over too soon.
We speak in a whisper,
Afraid to be heard;
When people are near,
We speak not a word.
Alone in our secret,
Together we sigh,
For one smiling day to be free
To kiss in the sunlight
And say to the sky:
"Behold and believe what you see!
Behold how my lover loves me!"
"Guinevere and Launcelot." she whispered and kissed him on the lips: beginning to quote the old novel. "And the two lovers met in secret for fear that her husband would see."
"Yes..." Erik rubbed his chin in thought and kissed her again. This time with less restraint and pressed her close. He felt her hands go to his chest and felt her shove him against a tree. He complied and grabbed her hair and pressed his pelvis against hers grinding hard and rocking until she quivered beneath him. He shoved her down and she gave a little yelp before dragging him down with her. They made love again that night and then when she left he began to write a letter. This had to end.
Dear M. De Chagny:
I am one whom you have probably long forgotten though I shan't ever forget you. If by the handwriting you still cannot tell who this is that weiting to you then perhaps your memory will serve you better by remembering a house on the lake and a punjab lasso. If by then you are still unsure then it will lead me to believe that your noble mind is not as well educated as you would like to think.
I am writing to you of the uttermost ergency concerning your wife. You see she and I are lovers, having been for quite some time and contrary to what you might think she is not bewitched , nor is she frightened of me. I cannot live without her any longer and as such I am writing this letter to challange you to a duel for the love of both our lives. If you are not a coward and are man enough to accept my offer, then write to me tomarrow morning and leave your response with my accociate Dorian. He will be waiting in the park at noon-time and will see to it that your answer reaches me without fail.
I remain Monsieur:
O.G.
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Raoul read the letter and crumpled it in his fist in a rage, how dare he! It was bad enough that he was insulted in the letter, but to have that man accuse his Christine of becoming an adultress? The nerve! He quickly scribbled a note to O.G. accepting the challange. He heard Christine in the bathroom vomiting again and he went to her holding back her hair and murmuring gentle words of encouragement until she had finished. Wiping her mouth with a handkerchief he carried her to the bed and laid her down.
"You are with child Christine..." he stated and she nodded her head. "Is it mine?" he asked. Christine wept with remorse for doing this to her husband, but was horrified when he said, "Do not worry Lotte, I know he raped you... I'll make him pay for it. I promise." he then told her he was going out on some erronds and that she should get some sleep. When she tried to protest he shook his head and went back to that slow soothing sing-song voice of their duet, humming softly until she slipped away.
When he arrived at the appointed place and found the man called Dorian he handed him the note for his master rather forcefully and stalked off. The ebony skinned blonde smiled and shook his head, he now knew why his master hated this man. The good-servant came to the little and yet elegant townhouse where the one-time phantom had now lived for the past five years. Ever since the lovely Vicomtesse De Chagny had come into his life... oh what a wicked girl she was! He delivered the note, took the thirty francs offered him, and bowed out gracefully allowing his master to be alone.
Erik tore open the note and read it quickly:
O.G.-
We will end this sharade in three weeks time, at the same place where I delivered this message.
R. C.
Erik smiled. Yes. They would.
Later that night
Erik embraced her and kissed her deeply at the end of thier lovemaking, she sighed and snuggled into him. He kissed the top of her head. "Christine?" he whispered.
"Hmm?" she asked as though she had just been woken from a very deep sleep.
"If I took you away, would you marry me?"
"Yes." she said sleepily and that was the end of the disscusion, Erik never told Christine of the impending battle for her heart, she and he had simply lain there on the beach. Her sleeping. Him drifting in and out of daydreams.
three weeks later
Christine woke in her bed and was greeted by the sight of her husband who was smiling at her gently. She left for the park with him close at hand and was frightened to see Erik there.
"A monsieur. To the death then!" as they dueled Erik got the upperhand and when he was just about to kill his enemy Christine cried out begging him to spare her one-time lover. Erik turned in her direction and Raoul seeing his chacne took advantage of the distraction raised his blade to stab his opponent in the back. Chrisitine cried out a warning a little too late, Raoul brought his blade down and slashed Erik though the heart. He groaned and fell to the ground as Christine gave a cry of 'no'.
She ran to him and held his head leaning in close to hear his final words,"and Launcelot dies in the arms of Guinevere... just as Erik shall die in the arms of Christine." Erik coughed and touched her cheek.
"No... my love... no..." Christine sobbed and collapsed on his chest.
"Come Christine!" said Raoul who literally tried to drag her away.
"No... my love... no..." Christine sobbed. She wrenched herself away from Raoul and whispered to her dying lover, " I am pregnant... my love please..."
No response.
Raoul's confusion turned to anger a Christine collapsed in tears on his rival's chest, so it was true what the masked man had said. They were lovers.Raoul though furious was pitying her as he gathered her up in his arms and carried her off while she sobbed and fainted in grief.
When she had woken up the next day Raoul told her that she may have the baby as long as he or she remained hidden, for he would not have a bastard for an heir. Christine agreed to this having no other options; they did not speak to each other much after this.
"Where's Christine?" Raoul asked the maid one night at dinner.
"Gone to the park sir seemed distraught. " she said noncholauntly as she busied herself with table-setting and dishwashing.
Raoul pondered this for a moment before he remembered the duel the night before he then leapt up and went to the door charging forward and out up to the park where he found Christine kneeling with a daggger in her hands. Too stunned to move he watched her, heard her sobbing over the body of her lover.
He then heard her saying, "And so Guinevere laid her life down with her secret love, never to be his bride on earth. Bound they were for eternity, together forever, mother and father, husband and wife, there love shall burn in hell." with that and one final sob she raised the dagger and plunged it into her heart, collapsing with a moan onto her true love's chest, curving her arm around his kneck in her last moment.
"No..." the young man murmured as his senses came to him at last. He ran over and lifted her. "Christine! Christine!" He shook her.
No response.
"What have I done?!" he laid her back down and raised his sword.
"And Arthur as he gazed upon the woman he loved as she lay next to her beloved lay rest his life. Now and forever, Escaliber is stained. The blood of one jealous heart and the soul of a wicked man."
He ended his life.
Fin.