Faithful readers! I am both posting a new chapter and sharing good news - at last I have the final few chapters of this story written (it's looking like it will be 34 or so). So, I'll be taking this story down shortly and re-posting it along with the adapted first few chapters of the story originally written by Rogo. That means that you'll be able to enjoy this tale cohesively from start to finish. As always, I infinitely appreciate your patience, support, and desire to see things through for Erik and Manon.

Manon's body woke before her mind did.

Her limbs, heavy and soft, were twined among deliciously warm bedding. She stretched and twisted in sleepy pleasure. Her body felt melted into one large, tangled form - woven with the man who slept beside her, indistinguishable as one being.

Eyes still closed she gradually awoke to notice, nonplussed but without dismay, the precise position of her body.

Her head was nested into the crook of a shoulder, and her arms were draped on and around the man who lay with her. Her left, curled half beneath her, rose across her own belly to interlace with the man's hand which rested on her ribcage. Her right draped across the warm broad expanse of his chest, fingers threaded through the sweep of hair on his sternum.

Manon's eye cracked open to peer at her hand laying on Erik's bare chest. She regarded it for a moment and considered the rest of her sensations. The tang of dried sweat and blood mingled nicely somehow with the warm sweet scent of morning.

Manon breathed, becoming adjusted to the new world and waiting patiently for it to make sense.

Her attention returned to her fingers as, with infinite tenderness, she began to drag them through the soft curling hair over the firm muscle, conceding at last to the fixation which had obsessed her. Somehow her reluctance and sense of self-preservation had evaporated between the unhinged events of last night and the sleepy peace of the morning. She didn't precisely know what she was doing or what she planned to do once she got there. But she felt warm and safe and content and impolitely curious. She barely noticed that the light rumbling of snores below her had deepened to a purr, her sleepy attention was so fixated on the touch of her hand.

It dipped into the valley of his sternum, rising again almost to where her own cheek lay pillowed on muscle and, quite unexpectedly, she found her lips following.

Yes. Manon's eyelids fluttered for a moment as she exhaled a long breath in a soft openmouthed kiss. It was good, so very good, like coming home after a difficult distance. Now, holding Erik in her arms, she could acknowledge how very afraid she had been of losing him. It seemed that he had become essential to her.

Manon moved as slowly as she could and pressed another soft kiss. It was even nicer than the first. Her trail of kisses continued along his collarbone until she had to shift her weight, hovering over the hollow of his throat where she watched his heart beat in a fascinated daze.

"Manon," came a hoarse whisper from above her.

Startled, she lifted her eyes and found Erik awake and gazing down at her, his eyes soft and dark and pleading.

His hand had moved lightly to her side, hovering unsteadily, as if she had never done this before and wasn't quite sure how one went about it – which, she reminded herself, was probably true.

She raised herself further on his chest so that their eyes were level. His expression was inscrutable, but he watched her with a intensity that made her belly flip, and, trembling, gaze not leaving his, she let her lips drift gently to the corner of his jaw, peppering it lightly, ending with the lightest of nips on his chin. It drew a low gasp from him and Manon found she could not stop, nor did she want to. Now that she'd begun, it felt like the most natural and true thing in the world, and she couldn't believe it had taken her this long.

Yet she restrained herself, permitting them both a moment; with only the barest of brushes against his lips, Manon's mouth continued its journey, discovering the hollow of his cheek, the crest of his cheekbone as it swept elegantly towards his ear, delighting in the low gasps of pleasure that were issuing quietly but urgently from him.

"Manon…" Erik whispered again, strained. She ignored him. She bit his earlobe.

"Manon!" he repeated more urgently, becoming insensate, "I… I am only a man..."

Her heart stilled.

"That's right, chérie." Manon's lips ghosted along the sensitive edge of his ear. "Only a man."

She felt him freeze, and the world stopped for an instant. Even the candle flames seemed to still in the blanketing darkness.

Then a tremor, his broken whisper like a prayer -

"Manon."

She melted onto him. Her heart was both clenched and overflowing and her hand left his chest to twine around his neck and hold his head to hers. She wanted to absorb him, to possess him, to draw him into her womb and protect and cherish him and give him the shield of her soul.

In lieu of this, she just hugged him to her heart.

She was hugging him.

He, the devil's child. She was hugging him.

Erik didn't know what he had been expecting. But it certainly wasn't kisses, soft as a whisper, mapping out the lines of his face while his limbs lie useless and stunned.

He groaned now, low and pained, and yet Manon ignored him. Her lips continued, incredibly, to the edge of his mask.

He felt a dark emotion swell up inside him, threatening to choke him as he lay helpless beneath her. She could have stabbed him in the heart, and he could have done nothing. His breath came in short, agitated bursts, and it was all he could do to brace himself against the slow shake building within him.

"Shhh," came Manon's voice as she continued to press kisses along the seam of his mask. He didn't know what he would have done if she had tried to remove it, but she didn't. Her left hand remained braced under him and her right twined about his neck, gripping his head to her mouth. She brought her lips to press fully into the center of his mask, and the need to weep finally overwhelmed him.

Erik was lying there like a stump, crying while a beautiful woman held him. Her lips quested across his temple and found moisture. She followed the salty track to the corner of his eye and rested there when finally, mercifully, he suddenly regained use of his limbs. He wrapped his arms like vines around her body and clutched her, body as tense as a bowstring as he waited for it all to pass.

"Why," he whispered thickly into her hair, "Why, Manon…" a hand swept up to cradle the back of her neck, and before she could answer he had covered her mouth with his.

Why, indeed? Was it fear? Shock? A cruel joke? Was she simply mad? Erik found that he didn't care. He kissed her as though she were absolution to the sacrilege that was his life. The pain of his shoulder was forgotten as they gripped one another in a tangle of limbs, lips, teeth, tongue and breath.

Manon's hips ground against his and he bucked back against her shamelessly. It was dark but for a few candles, but he knew her features by heart, even as he cherished the incredible new eroticism that molded them now.

"How can you ask me why," Manon finally gasped as his mouth moved hungrily over her throat and his hand fumbled inexpertly with her gown, gripping and pulling as he sought an opening. She clicked her tongue with impatience and finally reached down and yanked apart the halves of the bodice herself.

Any indignation he may have felt evaporated with the heated press of their skin separated only by her chemise, and Erik was faced with the incredible sensation of a woman's body against his. It shocked them both for a moment, their eyes flying open on a sharp breath as they paused and stared at one another.

The hangings of the bed fluttered in the stillness. The light of the few remaining candles winked through them quietly.

Erik looked helplessly into Manon's glittering brown gaze, her mouth softened by their kisses, and he knew he was lost.

"We must stop, Manon, I want you too badly, I…"

"Hush now," she murmured and enveloped him again in her body and the cloud of her hair.

Need surged between them as they came together again, thrilling and terrible in its power, as sudden and consuming as a summer storm.

The bedding tangled and the hanging were wrenched down but neither of them noticed as lips and breath and hands discovered curves and hollows and secret places.

They rolled, locked together in their embrace, their mouths not leaving one another's. He could not help but grip Manon's hips to his; her softness and heat were almost unbearable.

It was some moments before he realized something had changed.

Erik lifted his head to stare at Manon, concerned. Suddenly her panting has become gasping and the pressure of her hands was against him, not gripping him closer.

He saw wildness and fear in her eyes and flew backward, releasing her immediately, certain that in his eager inexperience he had done something unforgivable. Apologies leapt to his lips as he scrubbed his hair from his face in anxiety.

Manon likewise scrambled backwards, clutching her middle. Her eyes were pained even as she reached a conciliatory hand towards him.

"Erik, I…God, I can't, I'm so sorry…" she stumbled off the bed and lurched towards the door and out.

Erik remained, still on his knees, openmouthed and staring and heartsick.