Christine huffed in frustration at her reflection in the mirror, no matter how much she tried, she couldn't get her arms to bend the way she needed them to in order to reach the buttons on the back of the dress to close it. The dress was beautiful, and it hugged each of her curves beautifully-making her wonder how on earth did Erik get her measurements down to a nail-but closing it proved to be next to impossible to do on her own. So after one last frustrated sigh, she turned around and walked out of the alcove where she was getting dressed, and went in search of her Phantom to ask for his help.

She did not need to look much, for she found him standing in front of one of the many tables lying around, grimacing at his reflection as he fixed the wig on his head. She noted with a sad smile, that this particular table had many mannequin heads with various wigs on them, as well as masks.

She stood there, watching him as he placed the mask over the disfigured side as he has done a million times, she was sure, her mind wandering off to the moment the wig joined their clothes on the floor the night before. It was true she had removed his mask before, but never before did she ever remove his wig. She knew he wore one, she just never took it off.

They were lying in bed, completely naked, with only the sheets barely covering them as they moved beneath them. Her back arched off the bed for the tenth time that night, as another wave of pleasure shot through her as Erik continued torturing her core with his mouth. His hands were fondling her hardened nipples, and hers shot down to keep his head between her legs. And in the heat of the moment, she tangled her fingers in his hair…but it moved. The imperceptible shift she felt before, was a bit more evident now because of the force of her grip.

She felt him stiffen, his hands momentarily freezing over the swell of her breasts and stopped with their kneading and fondling. His tongue had stopped running up and down her entrance, and so her back was once more pressing against the sheets. She opened her lust filled eyes, and looked down at him. She found a pair of pained, ocean blue eyes looking frightfully at her. And even though she desperately needed him to finish her off, she decided that his mouth wasn't doing the trick any more, and that she needed his manhood. But she had to soothe his fears first.

And so, she untangled one hand from his hair, and slid it down to cup his cheek. She gave it a little nudge, and softly guided him back up her body, her reassuring eyes holding his terrified ones steady. Once she could reach him, she lifted her head off the pillow, and caught his lips with hers. She could feel his desperation in their kiss, and she tried to assure him with it. Once they pulled back for air, she looked once more into his eyes, one hand still cupping his cheek, while her thumb caressed the bumpy skin. She had made it a point to cup the marred side, to assure him that it does not repulse her.

She saw the tears glistening in his eyes, and she could only smile softly at him, as her other hand pulled the wig away.

His eyes fluttered closed, his lips shuddering slightly, a lone tear escaping past the closed eyelids, and down the deformed skin, as a soft whimper left his lips, "Christine."

She leaned up a bit further, and caught the lone tear with her lips, her heart breaking when she heard the pained, surprised sob that left his.

"I'm here," she assured him, as she rested her head back onto the pillow, and watched his eyes hesitantly open once more, and look into hers searchingly.

She smiled at him, leaned up to kiss him once more, before she whispered the two words that she had been dying to say, "Take me."

His own strangled sob was swallowed by her, when he crashed his lips onto hers, swallowing the moan that escaped her, her back arching off the bed once more, and her legs wrapping tightly around his waist, as he finally obeyed her request, and entered her.

"It seems I need to take it in a bit," he said softly, snapping her out of her reverie.

"No, I think it will be perfect as soon as you help me button up the back," she stated, as she turned around and showed him the open buttons, all the way to the small of her back.

She turned around, and couldn't help but chuckle at the mischievous gleam he had in his eyes, "I generally prefer to help you unbutton your dresses, not the opposite," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Her soft chuckles turned into full out laughs, as his hands went around her waist, and slid up her back to her shoulders, which were not covered up by the corset.

"Erik," she chastised playfully, before he silenced her with his lips once more. The kiss was soft, tender and loving. It wasn't a hungry one, like the many they shared the previous night, but rather one where they both savored how the other tasted. She pressed her body up against him, enjoying the deep groan that resonated in his throat, as his skilled hands buttoned the dress.

They pulled apart when he finished the last button, and she moved back slightly to make some final adjustments, though he did not let her break fully out of his hold.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

"You never have to thank me, Christine," he whispered lovingly, as he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

She eyed him critically; he looked quite handsome in his attire, and the black wig only served to add to his enigma, but she also hated it. She hated it because she knew that he did, she knew that he viewed the mask and wig as a way to hide from the world, and at one point, hide from her. She knew he hated it, because he will never forget that his own mother was the first person to force him to hide.

"Do you have to wear them?" she asked softly, and by the sadness that crept into his eyes, she knew he understood what she meant by 'them'. After all, she did not do a very good job in disguising her distaste for them.

"I never go outside without them, I highly doubt the entire city of Paris will be as forgiving as you are," he said brokenly.

"But it's not even morning yet, I don't think there will be many people around," she argued.

"I only take them off before bed," came his simple retort, shattering her heart with the weight behind it.

"Well," she started, "you can wear them when we leave the alcove, but never when you are here with me." Her voice was confident, held not even the slightest hint of hesitation, or resentment.

Her answer did surprise him, but he supposed he needed to get used to moving about without it, no matter how foreign the concept may be to him. He nodded slowly at her, before he bent down and rested his forehead onto hers, "anything for you my dear."

I know that this is super short, but it is close to 7 am here, and I am beyond exhausted. For even though this story is planned in my head, chapter by chapter, things have been a bit crazy at work, so it leaves me next to no energy to write. I will try to update again tomorrow.

Thank you to all who read, and reviewed, it means a lot to me, and of course same to those who followed.

Let me know what you guys think of this, and I will read it again tomorrow for any errors.

Also, I am very sorry to say that this story has only got about four more chapters, before it comes to a conclusion :(