"Open your mouth more and project," Erik barked as pressed his hand against her stomach, making her tense her diaphragm.

"Do really want every gendarme in Paris coming to this house because they think someone's being murdered?" Christine chirped, turning to give him a little smile. "Besides with no music it's terribly hard to keep a tune."

"Do you miss our lessons?"

Christine smiled sadly, "It was the only absolute constant in my life. Every day was bearable because I had that to look forward to."

"You looked forward to seeing this monster?"

"Yes."

Erik tilted his head, intrigued by this information. "Every day?"

Christine laughed softly, leaning back against him and letting her head rest against his shoulder. "Yes."

"You always seemed terrified." Erik sighed, pressing his lips against her gently curled hair, breathing in deeply. "I thought I horrified you."

"I can't lie, I was always scared. There was a strange, musical angel teaching me."

"Your angel of music?" Erik laughed suddenly, "I call myself a devil and you call me your angel of music."

"What's funny?"

"They're one in the same. Lucifer was the angel of music before his fall."

"Oh," Christine gasped as it clicked in her mind. "But you're not the devil."

Erik cupped her cheek tenderly, giving her a lopsided grin. "You are to kind to me."

Christine reached out to touch his damaged cheek, her fingers playing against the tender flesh. She had to admit that he was ugly looking if you did not know the man behind the disfigurement. He had a half of a nose that she had never pictured missing with the false image of his mask, the empty place where the rest of his nose was nothing but a darkly scarred spot with a hole that she felt his warm breath flowed through. His eye drooped, the skin sagging beneath it giving the impression that it was painful. His lip was bloated and misshapen, roughly scarred but strangely intoxicating to kiss. His cheek was sunken in, thin against his strong cheekbone and nearly translucent. The disfigurement drew right into his hairline that receded farther back than his opposite side. Even his ear was disfigured, it seemed like it had been crushed and bent unusually, missing the cartilage that made the top part of the ear.

But he was handsome.

Christine met his eyes, realising how intently she had been staring at him. "Sorry."

"I can't expect you not to be horrified by it."

"I want to know it as intimately as I know my own skin. Every little flaw and imperfection." Christine felt him tremble beneath her hand, giving a slight chuckle at the hazy look in his eyes. "I should probably go, I'm sure Meg is wondering where I am."

"You have no idea how much self-control I have to use around you. I've never been one to control my urges. If I want something I take it. If I want to destroy something it has no chance to survive." His breath was shaky as he took her hands in his hands, pressing the knuckles against his uneven lips. "It's so hard for me to control myself for you."

Christine felt a smile draw across her lips. Erik was a perfect gentleman, more than she had pictured him being. Raoul had appeared to be a gentleman, regal and handsome – but in actuality he had had many lovers and had often seemed to expect Christine to be willing to give up her virtue to him. How many times had she batted his roaming hands away from sliding any closer to the apex of her legs those evenings in the carriage after dinner? He had always been insistent that since they were to be married that she shouldn't mind indulging in each other. But that was one thing that her father had ingrained in her mind. If you love someone you can wait until you are wed.

Erik was willing to wait no matter how hard it was for him. She had felt how ready he was for her. Christine was not so naive that she didn't have some idea how the coupling took place. Most of the ballerinas used themselves as tools to draw in money from patrons. They frequently talked about the sizes of the men they had been with, who were worth their time and who was a decent lover. She had pretended to ignore what they said, finding it distasteful and wanton. Now she wished she had listened a little more intently.

"I've waited for four years to be with you," Erik murmured as he stared down into her eyes.

"Four years?" Christine laughed, "Four years ago I was a terribly gawky creature."

"That made my heart swell with love." Erik brushed his fingers through her curls. "I loved you before you blossomed completely into this radiant creation."

"I've had a childish crush on you since you first came to me through the mirror." Christine admitted with a nervous laugh and a hot blush that crept across her cheeks. "I was only ten then."

"I know," Erik pressed her forehead against hers, cherishing this intimate moment. "I promised your father that you would be under my watchful eye."

"You met him?" Christine asked, pulling away and staring at him with shock. "You never said."

"I met your father when he first gave you to the care of Madame Giry, you were a small child of only eight." Erik closed his eyes and shook his head, the fact that he had known Christine when she had been a young child made their passion feel somehow wrong in his mind. "He asked me to take care of you, make sure you were trained to appreciate music. But he didn't ask me to take you to my bed and make you my wife."

Christine rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his ugly cheek, letting her lips linger as though she were kissing his lips. "You've taken care of me better than I could ever imagine being cared for."

"I should have let you go with the fop. That would have been care. He would have cared for you until your dying breath. You would have never wanted for anything."

Christine shook her head, pressing her long delicate finger against his lips. "I would have wanted you."

"The fop could have been a suitable lover for such a regal beauty like you." Erik combed his fingers through her hair, licking his lip where her finger had just been. "You might protest that I am everything you want but I will never feel worthy of your love."

"I'm not worthy of your love." Christine retorted, giving him a wide-eyed daring look that sparkled in her eyes.

"Your worthy of so much more than me."

"Raoul would have never been able to make me happy. He was too wanting, too determined to have me when I did not want him, he never lit this roaring fire in my belly that scares me so." She felt her cheeks burn hot. "He would try to touch me even though I protested, he only turned me cold."

"I'd kill him." Erik's eyes burned hot at her words, it churned a different fire inside of him. Those homicidal tendencies to destroy an offender flared dangerously. "You should be treated with care and respect."

"I really should go," Christine pulled away reluctantly, feeling cold without him being so near. She gave his hand a squeeze as she stepped backwards. "I'll see you later after we've both cooled down." She moved closer again to leave him with a passionate and lingering kiss.

Erik groaned as she left his room, leaving him alone to contemplate and solve the many problems he faced.

~o~

Christine tip-toed down the creaking stairs. Her heart was pounding against her chest and she felt like she could float into the sky if there wasn't a ceiling between her and the mid-morning sky. Erik made her feel alive like nothing had ever made her feel.

"Christine?" Meg asked as she popped her head out from behind the doorway. "Where have you been? I heard you singing."

"Erik," Christine said softly as she saw her friend's eyes widen at the use of the masked man's name. "wanted me to continue practicing so I don't lose my progress. But, I chose to stop because I didn't want anyone passing outside to hear."

"It was nice to hear a song in this cold house." Meg chuckled as Christine bounded down the stairs, uncaring now that she had been seen. "You were up there for a very long time."

"Was I?" Christine glanced over her shoulder, up the stairwell towards his room. "I lost track of time."

"Did his mask do that to your lip?" Meg asked abruptly, gesturing towards the forgotten nick on her face. Christine blushed, darting into the parlour of the house to avoid eye contact. "Well?"

"Perhaps."

"What is it like to kiss him? Bouquet said his lips were like a dead man-"

"I am most certain that Bouquet never kissed him." Christine gritted, sitting herself down with a plop on the chaise lounge. "He is nothing like a dead man, he is entirely alive."

"But what of you and Raoul. I realise you left him to come here, but... I figured you would return to him."

"No. No." Christine shook her head fervently, "I cannot return to someone I do not love. I.. I.. Love Erik." The admittance felt good. She could say it to him, but she wasn't sure if she could have admitted it someone else.

"He's much older than you, isn't he?"

"Twenty some years is nothing." Christine snapped quickly, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "Love knows no age."

Madame Giry listened to Christine from outside of the parlour. She was a naive girl; she knew nothing of the disturbed man that she 'loved'. Madame Giry would make certain that Christine never got the happy ending she was expecting with Erik.

A/N: Erik's just so sure that he shouldn't be loved. ): Poor baby needs a hug *pulls out Erik plushie*