Hey peoples! Sorry it's taken so long to update, I've been working on my other stories. Also, my life is crazy busy and I'm just trying to keep my head above water! Bear with me, I'm trying :)
I don't own anything even remotely close to the sexiness that is the Phantom. Be warned: this chapter shows a little bit more of the creeper/stalker/possibly-rapey side of the Phantom.
Erik watched through the mirror as Christine slept on the dressing room's chaise. He had brought her back to the opera house a few hours before, and after he retreated back to his dark hallway, she had again partaken of the drugged wine. As he lurked behind the mirror, his eyes had followed every last drop that raced past her lips and down her throat. In no time, she had made her way to the fainting couch and fallen deeply asleep.
He could not get enough of her—her milky skin, her dark hair, her deep brown eyes. He was a man obsessed, and her angelic voice made his longing so much worse. Her voice haunted him everywhere he went and his only relief was stalking around the opera house, following Christine. He was rapidly losing control and he needed to have her soon, before he became completely overcome with lunacy.
Tonight was the performance of Il Muto, Erik had heard them practicing. He had cringed at the thought of the pompous diva Carlotta portraying the countess. The role of the countess called for charm and appeal, which was perfect for his beautiful Angel. The Phantom had sent multiple letters to the owners and performers alike, demanding that Carlotta play the silent pageboy, and Christine play the lead. His disgust for Carlotta had morphed quickly into bubbling rage when the owners had ignored his instructions. He would make them all pay for pushing Christine aside to make room for Carlotta's oversized ego.
Now, behind the mirror, Erik ironed down the details of his plan as he viewed Christine's sleeping form. He inhaled sharply through his teeth as she shifted, her nightgown riding up between her legs. Not only could he see her creamy white flesh, but also her gown was hugging her form, and he longed to step through the mirror and caress the gentle slope at the apex of her thighs. Enraptured, he watched as she sighed, her lips barely parting as she exhaled a quiet mewl.
He couldn't handle it any longer and opened the reflective door. Her chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm and he matched his footsteps to her breathing. He reached the chaise, and he outstretched a gloved hand to stroke her face. When she didn't budge, he knew she was asleep and dead to the world. He wanted—no, needed—to touch her skin, so he calmly removed his gloves. Sitting on the edge of the cushion, he slowly and deliberately ran his hand from the naked skin on her knee up, pausing a few inches from the end of her gown. The touch was electric for him and sent aftershocks radiating to his core, echoing into his hardening arousal.
Gauging for her reaction, he dipped his fingers under the hem of her gown, and his hand continued its ascent up her leg. Seconds later, he had reached the soft skin of her hipbone. Her cheeks colored, prompting him to slide his hand toward her center, and he gently stroked the hot flesh there. She mewled in her sleep and he smirked. He was enjoying this immensely. The flush of her skin, her quiet moans and the searing warmth from her silky core was driving him wild. He moved his freehand to his lap, trying desperately to alleviate the tight pull of his trousers.
Her perfect, red rosebud lips were beckoning him closer. In a fog of desire, he bent towards her and placed a chaste kiss on her perfect mouth. The embrace wasn't enough to slake his thirst for her-it only awakened more lust. He curved toward her again, this time slowly running his tongue from the hollow of her throat and up the column of her neck, to stop just below her ear, where he nibbled on the lobe.
His hands continued to stroke both her tender spot and his own as he kissed and sucked his way back down her neck, until he was startled by a sharp knock on the door. He froze, waiting for another sound. There was another loud rap on the door, and he huffed in annoyance at the interruption before withdrawing from Christine's side and scuttling back behind the mirror.
As Erik watched from behind his secure glass door, Madame Giry entered the dressing room and, with much effort, woke Christine. Christine followed Madame Giry in a dreamy haze, exiting the ornate room and leaving Erik alone with his arousal, violently cursing the intrusion.
I know it's another short chapter, but I hope you guys liked it! So far, I'm trying to stick with the major events/progression of the musical, but I also can't help myself. I have to throw some shmexy times in there. Be patient, it's just a bit of a teaser for what's to come! It'll get juicier, I promise ;)
