Notes: Just a one-shot, written for fun and inspired by the song "Dancing in the Dark' by Rihanna. This song is so addictive, if you haven't listened to it yet, it's beautiful, and got an incredible beat. Please feel free to leave comments, I don't have a beta and would welcome any advice.

Disclaimer: I do not own POTO, nor the song "Dancing in the Dark" by Rihanna.

Dancing in the Dark

By Arianna083

Underdogs dance in the middle of the night

Can see the night skies in the mirror of your eyes...

xXx

Christine twisted her hands, her heart fluttering excitedly.

"Erik?"

"Hmm?"

She bit her lip, mentally rehearsing all the reasons that made what she was about to ask a brilliant idea, and why he should agree to it without question.

"Will you dance with me?"

Silence.

"Right...now, my petite?"

"Yes."

"This minute?"

"Precisely."

More tentative silence, and his hand paused in its slow, tender trek through her mess of curls. She waited for his response patiently, and kept her hands determinedly clasped in her lap. Her back straight, she leaned against his legs and felt her heartbeat against his shins, hoping its rhythm would seep into his body and become one with his own; their own private dance. But how she longed him to hold her close, to move until they were one being, floating, gliding across the earth!

It had been one of her dearest fantasies for so long, to dance with him without masks, or walls, or pretenses. Just Erik and Christine, dancing like children, like lovers, like one being. Yet every time she broached the idea, he swiftly changed the subject, or distracted her until her request was forgotten.

At first, she had been hurt. Did he not wish to dance with her? It was truly mystifying; ever since she had decided to stay in his home, sometimes for weeks on end, he seemed eager to touch her in any way possible. Handing her a cup of tea, placing his palm against the small of her back when they walked, reaching out to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear.

Any excuse to touch her—except this one. It was frustrating, but Christine wondered if there were some deeper reason he avoided the prospect.

Christine gathered her resolve; tonight, she would dance with him no matter what it took.

Tentatively, as though sensing her internal dialogue though not privy to its purpose, Erik began to brush her hair again soothingly. His long fingers brushed the side of her neck as he gathered more curls from her shoulder, and she shivered in delight. Did he truly have no notion of how sensual he was? How his every nuance was a whispered seduction, and made her burn with a passion she barely knew how to contain?

"I...I have not finished brushing your hair. It is quite...enthusiastic tonight."

Christine held back a sigh of despair. Apparently, he had no clue. "You shall tame it, my angel. It always listens to you."

Desire broke through his veneer of calm; yes, there it was! She could feel its presence in his hands, the way they lingered in their ministrations, not merely touching but stroking, not just sighing but caressing her with longing.

"I would never seek to tame it..." he said softly, and she marveled at how his voice could draw emotion after emotion from her effortlessly. She felt heat flush her cheeks, and a delicious, singular tingle raced down her spine.

With a soft rustling of fabric she heard him lean forward in his armchair, and when his lips brushed her ear she allowed her eyes drift shut and savoured the pleasure of his nearness.

"...I adore its wildness." He murmured to her, his tone gentle but its intensity hinted at the barely restrained fervor of his meaning.

"Do you?" she teased him softly, loving the way it felt to be knelt at his feet with her back against his knees, his impossibly tall frame bent over her, his hands now abandoning the brush to bury themselves in her hair. Lost in the mass of curls, she felt him tug her head to the side gently, revealing the unbroken line of her neck and shoulder.

A bolt of desire shot through her as his lips descended just below her ear, placing an open-mouthed kiss to her sensitive skin.

"Yes," he breathed, nuzzling the gooseflesh that erupted in the wake of his answer. "I adore everything..." his lips slid down the line of her neck, leaving a trail light kisses in their wake. He breathed deeply, as though drinking in her scent, her essence. "...everything about you."

His voice was liquid fire. Christine summoned up all her control to not spin around and ravish him right there, in his armchair. It wasn't the first time she'd considered it—but she was resolved to share a dance with the one person in the world who meant the most to her.

Now, if he would only cease sliding her chemise down her shoulder, and driving her to madness...

"Do you not know?" he breathed against her. "Can you not see it in my very being? I am conquered; I am ruled by you." His fingertips slid down her arms, and gripped her tightly, drawing her further against him.

"What can I do to prove it to you?" he asked, a tinge of desperation in his voice now. His lips brushed her skin with every word, his fervency so powerful she felt it seep into her own flesh and stir her very blood.

"What would you do?" she questioned, her excitement peaked.

"Anything," the word tumbled from his lips almost the same moment she had asked him.

Christine felt a swell of triumph in her breast. How could he refuse her request now, when he had given her an oath so faithfully?

When his mouth found the top of her bare shoulder, she took her chance. Scooting away from his lips, she turned to face him. Oh...how much easier it would have been if she had just remained where she was!

His face was hunger incarnate. Dark eyes, lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly, he personified lust and thirst. His gaze burned, as though he could sear her to nothing but ash and then drink her in—and she wasn't afraid. She rose to meet it.

Leaning up on her knees to be at eye level with him, she began to close the distance between them until she was so close that their breaths were shared.

"Dance with me," she commanded.

His eyes narrowed slightly, as though trying to understand her through the haze of fantasies his mind was conjuring up for his torment. Tilting his head to one side, and regarded her thoughtfully—or at least, he tried to. His gaze kept flickering from her eyes to her mouth, so soft, so close...

Without missing a beat, Christine managed to extricate herself from his grasp and stand up, reaching out a hand to him.

"Dance with me," she repeated gently, trying to inject all the tenderness and devotion she felt for him in those three words. He looked up at her with wide eyes—and suddenly he seemed so lost and vulnerable her heart ached. He was arguing with himself, that much was painfully clear in the way he struggled to find words to express his misgivings.

"I...I..." he stuttered, speechless and tripping over his own tongue. Christine reached out with her other hand and let her fingertips stroke a path down his cheek. His sharp intake of breath was not unexpected, for he had the same reaction whenever she voluntarily touched his unmasked, ravaged face.

"You let me see you; let me tame the fear that promised I would leave once I had seen your face. I adore its wildness. I adore everything about you. Surely you must know that...and if you do not, let me show you. No more words. Only this..." she softly bid, tracing her fingers across his mangled cheek and over his lips which parted instantly. His hand captured hers within a heartbeat and held it against his mouth, pressing his lips to her skin in something more crucial than a kiss.

He needed her strength. Reaching out, he grasped her other hand and rose from his chair, his eyes squeezed shut as though preparing himself for something innately painful.

Despite his wary expression, Christine couldn't help the smile that lit her entire face. Giddy with excitement, and drunk with the sensations only he could create in her, she gave a soft laugh as she pulled on his hands. Slowly, she guided him away from his chair and to the center of the living room. He kept his eyes resolutely shut, though he matched her backwards steps with shuffling steps of his own.

Barely able to contain her joy, Christine quickly leaned down to blow out the few candles that has been illuminating their evening, and for the first time in what she guessed was recorded memory Erik gave a tense start as they were plunged into darkness.

"Christine...?" his voice was searching for reassurance. She squeezed his hands, and continued to guide him towards the vast space in the center of the room. Her feet were bare, despite his admonishments about cold toes leading to sneezing and runny noses. Her eyes were much better at adjusting to darkness since she had begun to visit him more often, and after a moment of complete pitch, she could see his features bloom out of the darkness.

His eyes were still closed, and her heart expanded with happiness that he trusted her so. Closing the distance between them, she guided one of their linked hands out to the side, while she guided his other to her waist.

Instantly, his hand splayed out over the arch of her hip, pulling her against him as though the need to be near her was so instinctual it overrode every other feeling. Christine felt her lips part in a beaming smile. They stood unmoving for a moment, simply listening to the steady rhythm of their breaths. Erik's was a bit ragged, yet she loved the sound; it spoke of a man whose passions were so vast, they could hardly be contained within his thin, tall body.

Closing her own eyes, Christine allowed the rush of their breathing to guide her as she gently began to sway back and forth. Their feet remained unmoving, yet it was as though they were caught in a tide of their own making. They ebbed and flowed together, until finally the waves were so strong that she felt his hand slide up to press against her back, and he took a graceful step backwards.

Nearly stepping on his foot in her eagerness to follow him, Christine couldn't help the giggle that rose in her throat and escape her lips. Every fantasy, every daydream she'd had of this moment wove together and formed and single sensation; they were floating. Floating in the dark, burning bright like two stars forever entwined together, forever dancing.

His steps became swifter, more fluid, and tilting her head back, she gave into joy and opened her eyes to gaze up at him. In the darkness, she could see his eyes burn. He gazed at her with every ounce of love he possessed. He had never spoken the word to her; she knew he was waiting for something. They were both waiting. Feeling his arms support her, he spun them around the room with graceful steps.

She had known it all along—he was a flawless dancer. He guided her about the room as though this were more familiar than walking. Why ever had he avoided this for so long, when he was so adept at it?

Her musings distracted her for a moment too long, and in that moment she extended her foot too far and it caught on something sturdy and immovable.

The chaise...

The back of her knees hit the sofa hard, and with a cry of surprise she felt herself stumbling backwards. He was supporting her tightly, but they had somehow managed to tangle feet and suddenly he was falling with her.

Christine felt her back hit the chaise and sink into its plush cushions, just as her dance partner landed unceremoniously on top of her. Her shoulders shook, and as he called her name inquiring if she was alright, she realized by his worried tone that he thought he had hurt her.

He had tried to keep from crushing her by bracing one hand on the sofa's back rest; this didn't work out quite the way he'd planned though, for as much as he didn't want to crush her he didn't want to drop her either. His other arm therefore remained wound tightly around her waist, the result being that his leg slid out from beneath him and he fell to one knee, his face buried in a softness he had only ever dreamt of.

Christine laughed; and brought her arms up to wrap about his head which was firmly ensconced between her breasts. She could feel his breath hot through the material of her nightgown and burying her hands in his hair, she stroked the short tendrils with delight.

"Oh Erik, I'm sorry!" she giggled, feeling exhilarated and giddy. "No wonder you didn't want to dance with me! Did I bruise your foot terribly—?" she began, breathless with mirth but her words were stopped short by two actions that occurred almost simultaneously—Erik's head rising from her chest, and his mouth which captured hers in an ardent, almost bruising kiss.

A gasp escaped her, and was caught by his open mouth, but the sound seemed to bring him back under some modicum of control, for he eased the pressure of his lips and became gentler. His fingers found her jaw, and every touch of his lips and fingertips spoke of a reverence beyond imagining. Christine knew Erik's tempestuous nature; she knew of his moods, and how hard he fought to control them, yet his tempered touch was unraveling her effortlessly.

Matching the dance of his mouth against hers, Christine lost herself in its rhythm. Her hands fisted in his hair, and without realizing it pressed herself closer, until they were both moving against each other in a desperate attempt for a closeness that was impossible to achieve, as though they could simply disappear within each other.

It was their second kiss...and it was sealed forever within the darkness, where they both surrendered to the rhythm of deepening love, and danced.

xXx

I wanna dance in the dark, and never stop

We gonna light up the night

Like shooting stars...