Welcome back my dear readers! I know, I know, I've been gone and this looked like a dead fic but I pushed through and found my inspiration. AUTHOR'S WARNING: THIS HAS A LEMON IN IT. If you don't like lemons, read a different story. Some gentle reminders, this is my first lemon, and I have no beta. Other than that, please enjoy!

Days pass by, the air thick with tension and something unspoken. Neither spoke with the exception of the day's greetings. Erik was pondering the events that occurred while he was sick, and Jane was torn between her feelings for Erik, their kiss, the safety of Roger's home, and the adoration of Lady Dulone. She had begun to receive letters from said lady. Each one proclaimed her adoration for Jane and her wish to take her away from the opera house. She would provide for her, for every wish and whim that she desired. At first, Jane politely declined, but Erik's silence and the endless temptation that followed their kiss was beginning to wear on her.

Some mornings, Erik would stare at Jane with a strange look on his face, but they never spoke. Jane began to close in on herself, she slept away from home more often and withdrew into her mind.

While Christine and Jane never really got along in the first place, with the new silent development, the diva was even warier of the quiet stagehand. Jane would come in, pick up the clothes strewn about the room, help Christine dress and do her makeup without a word. At first, she was pleased, thinking the older woman had gotten the hint that Christine was in charge, but as the silence continued, she noticed the spark that had lit up Jane's unfortunately deep, beautiful eyes, was gone, leaving a shell in its wake. She feared Jane had gone off the deep end and would snap at any moment.

Madame Giry only mumbled something about lost souls when asked about Jane's strange behavior. Raoul didn't seem to take her seriously either.

"She's probably just accepted her place as your maid, Lottie"

"No Raoul, I really believe something went terribly wrong."

"Like what? I think the phantom scare has really rattled you, Christine. Please, go rest." He kissed her knuckles before turning away, "I'll see you tonight from my box, my dear."

"Raoul-" But he was already gone.

The only person left to turn to was the phantom, who had been surprisingly absent recently. Christine couldn't fathom how Jane and her angel of music were connected but he was her last hope at finding some answers. On the day of rehearsals, she called out to him, "Angel?"

The mirror clicked open and the tall, intimidating figure of her elusive teacher stepped out, "Yes, Christine?" His voice held a tone of strain, affecting the musicality of his deep baritone.

"My maid, Jane," At the mention of her name, a muscle in Erik's face twitched, "she's been acting strange as of late. She's not talking and I fear something has happened. Have you seen anything around the opera house?"

The opera ghost was silent for a long moment, seeming to weigh his options. He took a big, shaky breath before answering, "No, I haven't. Now, let's begin with the lesson."

As she ran through her scales, Christine studied her teacher. His broad shoulders, trim figure, and alluring voice would all have her swooning, if not for his hideous face. Unfortunately, Raoul was quite boyish and slender compared to her angel, the phantom, but he had money, a title, a handsome face, and they grew up as sweethearts despite Raoul only being a passable tenor. With a soft sigh, she decided that she would just have to suffice with that much.

After her scales and following solo, the usual praise never came. The Phantom gave a few critiques and left through the mirror once more. Christine was so stunned, she could only stare after him. He had never left without praising her, her voice, anything. Not only was something wrong with her maid, but now something was affecting her angel. But she was the only one who knew the reality of her angel…

That night, after another silent preparation, Christine sat numbly in front of her vanity. Raoul soon came bustling in with words of adoration for her performance, her voice, her beauty, and flowers, cards, and other delicacies falling from his manicured hands. The meaningless names of various admirers stared at her from the cards, some of expensive make, heavy embroidered paper, to those of cheap newsprint. Her suitors were many and from all walks of life, yet, among everything, the colorful flowers, elegant calling cards, she failed to spot her beloved rose with black ribbon. It was nowhere to be found. Had he forgotten? Had she done poorly? Thoughts plagued her young mind and distracted her from the efforts of her doting beau.

—-

Meanwhile…

Without the company of his friend, just a shell of a woman that wandered day in and day out, and the conflict in his mind, Erik became more strict with Christine and less praising. He knew he should be caring with his student, but her pining had begun to irritate him. Let her pine away with the Vicomte, it would save him the headache.

One day, it all came crashing down when Erik spotted a letter from Mademoiselle Dulone. It had been laying open on the drawing table, underneath, almost hidden, with a letter from that innkeeper, Roger. The first letter stated that David had accepted Roger's offer of partnership and had brought along his young daughter Millie. It wasn't of much interest to Erik, with the exception that he no longer had to worry about Jane accepting or denying his request, it had been done for her. A small smile twitched at his lips as the relief washed over him. He gently set the first letter aside, pushing thoughts of Roger and his intentions away.

The second letter was what troubled him, however. When he picked it up, he noted the quality of the paper and the swooping handwriting of the upper class.

My Dear,

I can wait no longer, I must have your answer. Happiness is only a letter away, yet I've heard nothing. You know you wouldn't want for anything, the world is yours, and I freely give it. A

place in society, balls, feasts, a day in the life of wealth, eagerly awaits your arrival, Jane, but only at my side.

It's become apparent that the phantom lacks the ability to satisfy you as I can. I hope you've seen, as I know you've tasted, the passion that lives between us, how on fire our bodies felt

together. I wish to see if we could make the world burn. You could have that, forever, Jane.

I want to bring you out of the darkness and into the light that shines so brilliantly down on Paris. The world is happening and I want you with me to share it.

By Hermes' wings, I wait for your answer. A better life is out there.

Yours Truly,

Lea Dulone

It was dated 3 days prior. Was that the reason for Jane's sudden reclusiveness? Was she preparing to leave him? His anger boiled as he waited for his friend to return home. Despite her retreat, there was a pattern to her stays on the surface and when she would come home. So, he waited.

The candles waned and the cave grew dim as time passed. Just as he was beginning to think she wasn't going to return, he heard her soft footsteps echo across the water.

When she appeared around the corner, he was momentarily taken aback by…her. Despite his anger concerning the letters, he felt his body react, his breeches started to tighten against his reaction to the beauty approaching him. She was accented by the soft glow of the candles, just like in the dressing room. Her womanly curves and round breasts highlighted everything and nothing. An unfamiliar tease that left Erik hungry for more. Unbidden, he felt his body tense in response and arousal warred against his rational mind. Christine was still just a girl, Jane was a woman. But his attention snapped once more to the letter as it fluttered in the breeze created as she walked by him.

"Jane." Her footsteps abruptly stopped behind him.

"Yes, Erik."

"Sit." Her chair, seated opposite of him, had been unoccupied for days, evident by the dust that danced around her as she plopped down, the image of indifference, but Erik knew better. Her eyes searched his, only to glance down and notice the letter.

Instead of accusing him of invading her privacy, she sighed calmly and locked eyes with him again. They stayed silent until Erik could no longer stand it.

"Why."

"Why what?"

"Don't play innocent with me Jane. You insult not only my intelligence, but your own."

"What do you think has happened?"

"That you've coerced with this…Lea, and are planning to leave me!" He had stood up at this point, pacing behind the chair like a restless animal. "First it was Roger, and now this. Are you truly that desperate to be away from me?" He was yelling now, each word echoing against the cave walls like a frenzied chorus.

"Erik, please, sit down and calm yourself. I'm not leaving, yet." Jane kept her hands folded carefully in her lap, though she wished more than anything to stand and stop his nervous pacing, wanted to feel his face in her hands. She knew she couldn't, for she did not fill that place in Erik's life.

The 'yet' caught Erik's attention. He sat down, albeit reluctantly, noticing how close their knees were to touching and chose to stare hard at a spot above her shoulder and ignore his racing pulse.

"Alright, are you ready to listen?" He gave her a curt nod.

Jane explained her amorous meeting, at one point getting carried away describing the emotion she had made her feel, with Lea and subsequent letters. Erik couldn't believe what he was hearing. His chest was tight with jealousy and heartache that almost broke him and he continued to shake with emotion until she asked him a question, her eyes finally meeting his.

"Why does this bother you so?" While she appeared calm, almost detached, outside, inside, her heart hammered in her chest, so loud she was sure Erik could hear. She wanted him to admit that he wanted her, needed it with a desperation unlike anything she had ever felt. He blinked owlishly at her and seemed to consider her. The dark pools of his eyes pulled her in. The tension, the desire in the room was thick and Jane's breath quickened in her breast. Unconsciously, they had leaned toward one another, Erik's cologne, musky and familiar, washed over her and heat pooled between her thighs.

His tongue poked out to wet his lips, and it was all Jane could do not to stare, "Jane, I-"

A voice answered from the mouth of the cave, "Because he's afraid of losing you, cherie."

Both Jane and Erik started at the voice. With a blush, she noticed how close they had become, his lips had only been inches from hers. She turned toward the mouth of the cave, "Lea!"

Erik's eyes followed Jane's and flinched at the appearance of his apparent rival. She was dressed impeccably, flowing skirts that spoke of carriage rides, dance parties, a socialite's dress, and enough cleavage to be enticing, yet still remain formal, a true beauty in the eyes of society. She stood behind Jane, placing a manicured hand on her shoulder. At her touch, Jane couldn't help but blush once more at the memory of where those hands had been on her.

His eyes flickered between the two, "Jane, what's happening?" Erik tried to not let his panic show, but his voice cracked at the end. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to discourage Jane and tell this woman never to write her again. Everything was happening too fast. They had been so close just a moment before, he had felt her desire and was almost touching her tempting body. Now that vision was disappearing before his very eyes.

Jane opened her mouth to respond, once again though, Lea stepped in, "She'll be leaving with me, monsieur Phantom." There was a sneer in her voice, but her face displayed none of this.

"But she has not yet responded to your missive, madame."

Her kohl-lined eyes narrowed, "Mademoiselle, if you please, monsieur."

"Mademoiselle." If she noticed the contempt in his voice, she didn't show it.

Dismissively, she brushed away an invisible hair from her neck, as though anything could leave the perfectly shaped chignon on her head, "It is no matter, I felt that Jane's decision was an obvious one." She placed one manicured finger under her chin and lifted Jane's face to hers, "So, I came to rescue my damsel."

"Lea." Jane's voice was weak under the intensity that her potential lover stared her down.

Erik watched the exchange and couldn't deny the attraction between them but was too stubborn to accept anyone but himself as Jane's love.

He was speechless and he could feel panic and anger warring in his mind, flaring into a headache. Lea's eyes caught his and the smug light that burned in her molten rises twisted like a knife in his chest. The woman was enjoying this. She thought she had the upper hand. With growing desperation, he realized there wasn't much he could do. He had lost without having begun. The years spent together had been wasted on his foolish obsession with the Swedish beauty who already had a doting beau.

He looked to Jane to gauge her reaction and was surprised to see she was already looking at him. He expected anger, smugness, indifference, anything that would further break his heart, instead, he saw fear, sadness. He realized Jane didn't want to go. Her body leaned back into Lea's but her eyes never strayed from his strong features. They called out to him, as though begging a question he couldn't hear.

Of course, the kiss, that wonderful kiss they shared while he was ill came to mind. She thought he had forgotten and was fleeing with Dulone to spare herself. An overwhelming combination of sadness and pride swept him away. How selfish, yet noble.

The pieces began to come together and a calm washed over him like a wave, he was back in control. He would be damned if he let her slip through his fingers. Mademoiselle Dulone might have had a taste of Jane's passion, but he had her heart and he was not fond of sharing.

He steepled his fingers under his chin and crossed his legs, locking eyes with Jane, "I see. How fortunate you should process such incredible deductive powers, Mademoiselle."

Jane's eyes widened in shock, then slumped back into the chair, toward Lea, she almost didn't notice the way her hand caressed the open arch of her neck, or the way Erik glared at the offensive appendage. He was just going to let her go. The final shreds of hope she was holding onto slipped away, leaving only emptiness. After all those years, he truly didn't care. She would always come second.

Lea grinned at him, a polite, practiced stretch of her lips, she knew he would see things her way. Soon, they would be rid of this phantom, this menace, and Jane would be hers. She would give her the life she deserved and she would never want for anything. A mistress for a mistress. No longer the consort of the ghost of the opera house. And she was sure Jane would forgive her for her transgressions once she discovered the pleasures of the life that awaited her.

A thought gave her pause, though. Jane's love for the man sitting in front of them. She took a moment to study him. Lea could admit that the strong features, thick thighs, and broad shoulders stirred heat in her body, but she was confident he couldn't provide the emotional understanding that only a woman could give. Even if she couldn't have her heart, she would take what she could get. Besides, Jane stated in her letters that he only ever talked of his compositions and Mademoiselle Daae.

Lea was once drawn to Christine Daae's beauty and talent, but her depth of passion seemed to stop after the curtains were drawn and the Viscount de Changy had left in his coach. In any case, it lead her to Jane Noir, one who was beautiful both inside and out. Life before Jane was bleak and monotonous, none of the marriage-hungry girls of society interested her and most wouldn't be caught at her home for fear of a ruined reputation. Now that Jane was there, Lea woke up excited for life and now that she was within reach, she wasn't going to let this ghoul of darkness keep her hidden from the world, from her.

Decision clear, she turned to lead Jane out of the dreary caves, but before she could leave, he spoke up again, deep baritone sliding over her body like a caress. Lea's eyes narrowed, this man was not to be trifled with, for despite his deformity, he knew what he was capable of.

"Before you leave, Mademoiselle, I should like a word with Ms. Noir." He gestured to his friend in an absentminded manner. As calmly as though they were simply discussing the weather.

The use of her surname made Jane sick to her stomach, this was really it. The kiss, his compassion, everything they had shared over the years was all a farce, his most cleverly composed opera, and she had fallen for every last bit of it.

Lea smirked, but remained cautious, this was the Phantom she as dealing with, but he was only making this easier, "Of course, monsieur." She turned to Jane, tracing a soft line on her cheek, "Go on, cherie. I will be waiting." Despite her caution, she was confident she would be the one walking away with Jane. He had pushed her away, now he would have to let her go.

After they stood and Jane followed his lead like a student awaiting punishment, Lea looked around the cave, a disapproving curl of her lip twisting her perfectly made-up face. A peculiar observation came to mind as she stared at the ceiling, something she noted as she exited the hackney and walked up the steps to the opera house, that night was one of a moonless sky.

A strangely cold breeze brought her thoughts back to her surroundings. She couldn't understand how Jane could live in that mess, in a cave no less. Soon, Jane would live in her townhouse and never know the grim realities of cold and damp. Perhaps they could even adopt a child, for she knew Jane was a creative, restless spirit and even though she wanted to pamper the woman, Lea knew Jane would be beside herself. Yes, a child would be perfect to direct Jane's attention. Lea soon became distracted with her thoughts and fantasies as the two disappeared behind a curtain. She was so focused that she didn't hear one of the mirrors lining the far wall open with a resounding 'click'.

Erik lead Jane into his room before he faced her, closing the curtain for privacy from the wolf in sheep's clothing wandering around his workspace. Jane's head was bowed, looking at her feet, an unusually submissive posture for her. They stood quietly before she spoke,

"Why did you bring me here?" Her voice was small, defeated.

His heart squeezed in his chest, knowing it was him that brought out this reaction. He had let her down.

Another moment, one that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. He was quiet for so long, seeming to bask in her misery. She couldn't bear to meet his gaze. To see the pity in his dark eyes, pity for her feelings for him. Jane thought it was some kind of cruel joke, where he brought her to his room, to show her what she could never have. It was too much. With the last shreds of her dignity, she lifted her chin and started to walk away when he finally spoke,

"Because I love you, mon ange."

A sob wrenched from her throat and Jane thought her heart would burst. Blood rushed to her cheeks, stealing her breath and tears stung her eyes, falling without permission, "You…you remember."

He took a step toward her, his eyes glimmered with emotion, "Everything."

Just as suddenly, her temper flared and she pushed him away, the tears seemed to burn hot with her anger, "But why now? Why not when you recovered? Are you just twisting my feelings to get back at Lea?" The informal use of the woman's name made Erik grimace, "What happens when you have me? Will I be tossed away once again?"

The questions hurt as they revealed his shortcomings, his failures to protect and provide for her. "I didn't know how to handle these emotions, my feelings for you. And your feelings for me," He raised his only eyebrow, "You haven't been completely honest with me either, mon ami."

Jane blushed but stood firm, "What about Christine?"

He wanted nothing more than to kiss away the crease between her eyebrows and take away all her pain.

A thoughtful look passed over Erik's face and Jane thought it was all over, she would always be second to the diva. She was horrified to think that her accusations about him using her could be true.

"Christine is my student. My love for her is as a father figure. I should have realized that sooner and avoided this whole mess. But," He paused, locking eyes with her, "My love for you… is undying."

Jane's heart stuttered in her chest as the tears continued to flow freely down her face, "Oh, Erik." Just a whisper through her trembling lips.

Slowly, his hand came up to wipe the tears away. When she finally looked at him again, he cradled her face and brought her close for a gentle kiss, one they would both remember. The kiss from his fevered memory was nothing compared to the feel of her lips against his right then. Pleasure washed over over his body, rushing from his lips to his neck, and down like a waterfall. It was torture and bliss, so addicting, he feared he could not stop. Her hands slid up his chest and fisted in the fabric of his shirt, putting all of her passion, all of her love, into the connection of their lips. The sensation made Erik gasp, leaving his mouth open for her tongue to slide in. Gasping, he pulled away, his chest heaving with emotion. Jane looked up at him with wide eyes, rejection squeezing at her chest, "Do you not like that?"

She lowered her gaze, to her hands, still fisted in his shirt, this couldn't happen now, not when she'd already given this much.

Erik studied Jane, his confidant for all these years, the only person who truly accepted his face, his temper, his waves of inspiration, and now she was offering her heart, her forever. With his fingers, he tilted her chin up to face him. Without answering her question, his lips touched hers once more and he slid his hands up her bodice, swallowing her gasp and dancing with her tongue. Her breath started to come in short gasps as she pushed close enough to feel his excitement.

"Jane, please." He didn't quite know what he was asking for, but he needed it more than anything.

"What do you need, my love?" Her hand traced the mask before gently pulling it away. Her eyes and fingers followed every dip, every mark on his face. His eyes fluttered closed at her touch. The pleasure continued to build until he could no longer bear it. With a growl that sent shivers down her spine and pooled between her thighs, Erik pulled Jane against him, grinding his pulsing need against her core. Both gasped at the sensation. While Jane was no blushing virgin, it had been years since another man had touched her. Even her experience with Lea had been lacking in the passion that sparked between her and Erik.

Fueled by the look of abandon on her face, Erik twisted them toward the bed, the beautiful swan bed that he should have shown her ages ago. He never felt the urge to sleep with Christine when she was down there. Now, he couldn't imagine a night without Jane by his side. He watched, mesmerized, as her hair spilled out on the silk sheets like a halo. She really was his angel and a part of him wanted to sketch that moment, to immortalize it, but he had a feeling he would get more chances later.

"Oh mon ange, you're too beautiful for words."

A tear slipped down her face as she gazed back up at him, "Erik, show me."

As they kissed once more, his hands wandered over her body, trying to memorize every curve, which was becoming increasingly difficult with clothes on. Jane realized this first, "I want to see all of you."

Erik's heart hammered in his chest, not only would he see Jane naked, but she would see him. Instead of the fear or shyness he was expecting, arousal surged through him and it was all he could do not to rip their clothes off. As he watched her unlace her dress, he imagined another time when they would slowly strip one another, but now was not that time.

Bare to one another, Erik could only stare. Jane's body, strong and soft from work at the opera house, the cold air from the catacombs spread gooseflesh along her arms and his eyes were drawn to her round breasts which tightened under his gaze. He felt like a wild predator, sizing up the prey he was about to devour.

Jane was dying. Under that loose shirt, were rippling muscles and a heavy erection that twitched under her own curious gaze. Erik was a dangerous male specimen. As his hungry eyes devoured every inch of exposed skin, her body responded. Her nipples hardened, aching for his touch, and her core pulsed with arousal. If that was what happened without them touching, she felt she would explode when they did touch.

"Erik," his name was a breath on her cherry lips and he sprung into action like wild animal. Their lips locked while his hand touched her aching breasts. While his arousal nearly blinded him, this was still new to Erik. Gone was the phantom, here was the man, flesh and blood that yearned for the only woman he ever truly loved.

Her hands fluttered over his arms, overwhelmed by the sheer strength Erik possessed, but she needed him to touch her where she ached the most. "Erik, I-"

"What, my precious?" Her breath stuttered at the endearment. While words escaped her, she took one of his hands and lead it to the mess of curls between her legs. It was all he could do not to stare as his calloused fingers traced her velvet lips. As he grazed a small nub, Jane's body quivered in his arms.

He laid her down on the silk sheets once more and lowered his head between her thighs. Her scent drew him in like a moth to a flame and his mouth watered. He had seen Joseph Buquet partake in tasting a woman but thought the deed unusual and unsanitary. Faced with Jane's flower, he could hardly wait to taste.

Watching her face, he slowly placed the flat of his tongue against her sex and licked. Her gasp was sweet music and her flavor burst on his taste buds. It was tangy, sweaty, and Jane. He wanted more. More tastes, more sounds, more pleasure. Gripping her thighs, Erik drove his tongue into her folds, ripping a cry from Jane's slender throat. He continued to devour her most sacred place until she cried to stop. His eyes met hers, gauging her reaction.

Staring into Erik's questioning eyes, her juices covering his face almost broke her resolve, "Erik, I need more." His answer was only a slight head tilt. She sat up and pulled him up with her, "I need you inside me." His eyes widened to a comical size as he processed her request, "Jane, I-"

"I'll show you, mon amour." She moved them around until he was settled between her legs and his pulsing member was lined up with her sex. Their eyes met, Erik's still unsure but trusting. "Now, push into me."

He didn't know what to expect but the tight warmth and Jane's sigh of pleasure were last on the list. He felt a pressure building in his loins that needed to be released.

"Are you ready?"

"Always."

Just as he had seen Buquet do on multiple occasions and was often mimed in the various operas, he started thrusting in and out of her welcoming heat. Jane's body arched into his, "Harder, Erik, faster, give me everything!"

Soon he was slamming into her body, swallowing her beautiful cries with open-mouthed kisses.

"Erik! I'm-"

Her channel started to squeeze his member until he could no longer bear it. Something primal took over and he buried himself deep in Jane, joining her in bliss. After the moment passes and they caught their breath, they looked into each other's eyes.

"I love you, Jane."

"As I love you Erik."

What they failed to notice was the flutter of the curtain and the strangled gasp that followed.

Oh my poor Lea. Please don't hate me readers, the next chapter is for Lea!