Hello all,
Sorry for the couple-of-weeks hiatus in posting; real life got very busy. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it.
Chapter 14. April, 1887. First weeks of marriage.
She was dimly aware of Erik lying motionless between her thighs, propped on his elbows with his hands still cupping her hips. He made an inquiring noise, but she was not capable of answering with anything other than a sigh. One of his hands stole upward, and wove itself into hers. She twitched her fingers in reply.
"Well?" he asked softly. "It was all right? You…enjoyed that?"
She mustered the ability to nod, and then managed to turn her head a bit, and pull on his hand. He understood, and rose up over her. When they joined, it somehow felt more sensuous than usual, and she moaned and shivered with rapture, her hips beginning to arch to him again uncontrollably as the madness took over once more. He moved with her, within her, pressing kisses all over her face and neck. Words of reverent gratitude and love were sung in her ear, and his golden voice increased her arousal again, to such an extent that before long she was crying out and thrashing under him, caught up in the frenzied release of passion a second time. There was nothing in the world except the two of them, made one flesh, and Erik's sudden helpless moan as he gave himself up to his own crisis, so that she could not tell which of them it was whose limbs spasmed and whose flesh quivered.
He buried his face in her hair and trembled, gasping, and she thought perhaps he wept a little, as she held his head against her with what strength she had left. They lay locked together for some time, not speaking but feeling the bond between them, and vaguely sensing how powerful it really was. The fire crackled quietly to itself, and their chests rose and fell as one, mimicking their other, greater connection.
But eventually they had to separate, and Christine's mind returned to normal, shaking off the effects of wine and passion both. And she was appalled by her conduct. She made a small sound of distress, and Erik raised his head immediately.
"What is the matter?"
"Oh…what have we done?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm…sorry…oh, what must you think of me!"
"Christine, I think that you have made me the happiest man on earth. Why do you look so upset?"
"You don't mind what – what I made you do?" she begged, clutching his arm. "Oh, I don't know what came over me!"
He looked thoroughly baffled. "What is wrong?"
She couldn't refuse to answer him, much as she wanted to. "Well, the things in that book…"
There was a long pause, until he realised she wasn't going to finish her sentence, and said, "Yes?"
"Are they – do you think they are…sinful?"
Erik didn't seem to have been expecting that. Instead, he looked very taken aback, and sat up, running a hand over his hair slowly as though he were trying to gather his thoughts. "Ah…I suppose the Church might say so. I really do not know what their current stance is; I have not bothered to pay attention to anything they've said or done in decades. But – " He appeared to be thinking quite hard. "If one wanted to look at what the Bible itself says, I believe that in Hebrews it states that 'marriage is honourable in all, and the marriage bed is undefiled.' Corinthians says that husbands and wives are not to deny each other except for purposes of prayer. And…the Song of Solomon definitely speaks of…well, of kissing parts of the body other than the mouth. And kissing is not sinful, is it?"
"No. But…that was not what we normally…do."
"Normally?" he answered, raising what passed for one of his eyebrows. "A good many things are now normal for us, when they were not, before." He took her left hand, and stroked his thumb deliberately over her wedding ring. "Hmmm?"
"Yes, I – I suppose so."
"And we are married. A great many things are no longer sinful, which would have been, before."
"Yes."
"Well then. I vowed to love you and take care of you. And I wish to please you more than anything in the world. If you indicate to me what you want, then you shall have it – to the best of Erik's very limited abilities, that is."
"They're not limited. Not…anymore, anyway."
"Am I to take that as a compliment?" he asked, sounding thoroughly pleased with himself. She blushed brightly, but could not lie.
"Y – yes."
"You enjoyed it?" He was still holding her hand, but tightly now.
"Yes," she whispered. Erik exhaled slowly, with a relieved air.
"To be allowed to please you – in any way – is the greatest gift imaginable," he said softly. "Worthy of the greatest sacrifice."
A new and unpleasant thought struck her, and she asked, cringing, "Did you…mind it, then?" How on earth did one talk of such things?
"No! I – " He hesitated, then said firmly, "No." She waited for him to continue, but he did not. He looked as though he were finding this conversation almost as uncomfortable as she was.
"Oh," she said, somewhat reassured, and decided she didn't really want to know what had been going through his mind just then. She would change the subject a bit.
"How do you know those parts of the Bible well enough to quote them?"
He appeared very abashed, and said, "I have read them many times."
"Oh." She bit her lip. He looked so shamefaced that she reached out and laid a comforting hand on his arm. "Erik…"
"In my youth I spent a good deal of time wondering about God, Christine. I read the Bible, and a large number of other religious texts, repeatedly, looking for…answers."
"About what?"
"Myself," he said bleakly. "And I found…nothing. Well…nothing reassuring, at least." Then he went silent. Christine wondered whether she ought to push him to talk some more about this, and decided against it. She was encouraged by the revelation that he had, even a long time ago, considered God, and tried to read the Bible. He must have just not read it properly, or not with the right mindset, surely. Christine had believed for some time that God would readily welcome this particular wayward soul back if Erik could be brought to that point, and had been debating how best to raise the subject of religion in a manner which would not result in his pushing back against her. She knew that he considered his own existence to be a cruel joke on God's part and resented Him greatly for it, and that he had felt that way for the better part of his life. Bringing him back to the Church was not going to be an easy task, but it had to be done. And as his wife it was her job to do so.
But taking an action which made him dig in his heels would only make it harder to convince him. So she let the subject drop for now, and tugged at his arm till he turned to look at her. She drew him down to her again, and kissed him. He sighed into her mouth, and cupped her cheek in one hand. When they parted, he asked quietly, "Do you think it a sin to do this with me, then?"
"No!" she exclaimed, startled. "Why would I? We are married."
His mouth twisted sadly. "But…how can you bear me? How? This face…how can you kiss me, share this.. intimacy…with me?"
"Because I love you, and you are my husband. And you are not – unbearable, to me." She wondered if he had been worrying about this for a while. Probably. It was just like him not to say anything to her, and instead fret silently till he made his anxiety worse than it would have been otherwise.
He kissed her lips again, with great tenderness, and then did the same to her breasts before he drew away and let his hand drift over them. "I fantasized so much about this," he said. "With you, I mean. But in my saner moments, I was sure that you could never feel anything but revulsion for the idea. No woman could."
"But that's not what happened. I'm not revolted."
"I can not understand why," he answered, shaking his head and beginning to look melancholy again. "I wonder, sometimes…if you are only playing along, out of kindness."
"That's not true!" she snapped, insulted. "How can you think that, after what we've just-"
"Christine, I do not want to think it, but…I know what I look like," he insisted, pulling away from her and sitting up. He rested his forehead on one palm. "I look in the mirror, and I can not begin to understand why you have accepted me into your bed. It makes no sense. Why you are not disgusted when I kiss you…" He raised his head again, and, turning on her, said bitterly, "I find my own mouth hideous. Why don't you?"
"I do not find your mouth so, it is just…your mouth. You can not help what it looks like," she said, and sat up herself, to reassure both of them with more kisses. He responded gratefully, and after a bit, he relaxed into her arms. They sank back down onto the carpet, exchanging slow, tender caresses, entwining their limbs and sighing softly in open enjoyment of each other's touch. In an unanticipated way, there was a greater intimacy between them now then there had been before, and she could not be as easily embarrassed.
"Christine…"
"Hmmm?"
"There are other things in that book, things which are not technically, ah, sexual union but which are still…"
"Still what?" Her curiosity was piqued.
"Still pleasurable, I suppose you could say. Ways of embracing, or of caressing…of massage."
He sounded a bit too casual, and she wondered if he were trying to discern whether she might like such a thing, rather than make himself vulnerable by asking outright. She glanced over at his hands, their long fingers twitching with unease. Being massaged by them was an intriguing idea.
"That sounds nice," she said, trying to sound encouraging. Apparently she did, because he sat up and gently turned her onto her stomach. A brief dart of self-consciousness made her tense, but then he set his love-warmed hands cautiously on her and she forgot about it.
Thin, bony, but strong and forceful just the same, his calloused musician's fingertips rubbed small circles over her shoulder blades and down her spine, pressed hard here and gently there, stroked firmly up and down, and in no time at all she was purring with unexpected ecstasy. The knots in her muscles she hadn't known were there dissolved under his wonderful hands, and his initial uncertainty swiftly changed to confidence as he saw that his efforts were pleasing her.
With her face turned away from him, she felt free to think again of what they had just done. She had been so embarrassed…but he'd said he didn't mind…and his ardour hadn't been affected in the slightest. Quite the opposite, his release had come very quickly. A good thing she'd found hers swiftly again as well, once he took her…it had seemed effortless, in fact. She found herself wondering if, or when, he would do…that again.
Gradually, the thought occurred to Christine that the next time, in fairness it would be her turn to reciprocate. She thought of how moved he was when she attempted to pleasure him with her hand, and of how much power she seemed to have over him at such times. She had been utterly under his power when he pleasured her with his mouth. She thought of having him so, to her…her fierce, all-powerful maestro writhing under her ministrations, conquered by nothing more than a kiss from her…well, maybe a number of kisses, in that situation. And other sorts of caresses too, she reminded herself as she recalled the images in the book. Would he beg her for mercy, perhaps? What a strange thing to think of doing to someone, and yet…he had done it for her. Would he enjoy it, himself?
It felt so good to have him inside her. Maybe she could think of the other kind of act as merely…expressing appreciation? And no doubt he'd want to have her again as soon as she concluded her attentions… A warmly eager feeling took hold of her, and desire gradually blossomed once more.
Erik's hands finally ended up on the small of her back, and when he ceased massaging her, his fingers stilled on her skin for a moment, and then slowly slid farther. They rested on the curve of her backside briefly, then glided down over the backs of her thighs.
Christine sighed with pleasure, and then rolled to face him. He lay down next to her, so that they could take each other into an embrace, and he began to stroke her hair, winding his fingers through it and watching the curls spring back. She reached down between them, and felt his flesh quicken under her hand. There must have been an expression of intent on her face, because when he turned his head to her, he looked surprised.
In the event, she did not perform a similar courtesy upon him as he had done to her. That would come later. This time, after they fondled each other for a time Erik rolled suddenly to his back, and drew her on top of him. She had seen images of this position in his book, but hadn't expected him to try it tonight, and was clumsy as she tried to situate herself.
"I want to see you find ecstasy this way," he breathed, and manoeuvred both of them so that he could slide into her. A look of bliss settled over his twisted features, and he kept his hands on the curve of her hips, stroking gently with his thumbs. "I was thinking of it, while you were sleeping…I believed you would be more lovely than ever like this, and I was right."
He drew her up, then back down again, and she quaked with delight at the sensation. In this posture, he felt different inside her, excited her in new ways. And it was exciting to be the one in control, after all. They rocked together as the light of the dying fire played over them, sighing rapturously, caressing wherever they could reach, and journeyed as one to a mutual oblivion.
O-O-O O-O-O