A/N: Yeah, yeah, yeah…I don't own Phantom or Erik and all that jazz. Honestly, if I did, do you think I'd be sitting here writing phan phics?
His breath caught when she sighed...a gentle, contented sigh. And he had coaxed it from her. He wondered...what else could he coax from her lips? It was with that thought that he seized her hands gently from their place on his chest, delicately twining his fingers with hers.
He saw a flash of pink dart from Christine's mouth and could not keep his eyes away from her lips. He though that if he concentrated enough, they might reach up to touch his own. Oh, but...she would not dare kiss him. He, with his malformed lips...his head of death. And yet...in her eyes...he saw the spark of promise...of things to come.
Slowly tearing his eyes from her lips, his fiery gaze made its way up to her eyes once more... and, never breaking his stare, he lifted one of the twined pairs of their hands, planting a slow, hot kiss to the sensitive skin of her palm.
Erik delighted in the sensations he felt from the chaste kiss to her hand. So velvety...smooth...just as he had always imagined. He watched her as she closed her eyes in what he hoped was pleasure...saw the shiver that took hold of her. Empowered by her reaction, he asked, "Can your Vicomte make you shiver so, Christine?"
His eyes flickered with emotion. Bringing his lips to her ear, he whispered,
"Can he make your senses tingle?"
He lowered his head to her creamy shoulder, breathing hotly against it.
"Tell me, Christine...tell me..." he whispered against her collarbone.
He heard her struggled reply of "No…no, he can't…" and smirked against her skin.
"Indeed." He breathed into her supple neck. "And what…pray tell…does he do to you? For you? I have always…wondered, my dear. What exactly is it that sends you to him? Might you…" he nuzzled lightly against her neck…nipping bravely, gently, at the soft skin there.
"Might you…enlighten me?"
He noticed her breathing was becoming increasingly erratic as she struggled to reply. "He tells me…I'm not safe with you and that…that I'm meant for him," she finally answered. He suddenly felt her hands grip his own tightly, almost as if she had done it unknowingly, and he enjoyed the unexpected sensation. He could see how his ministrations affected her.
He smirked bemusedly at her response, answering, "And are you, Christine? Are you safe with me? Because I can assure you that you are most certainly not meant for him." The timbre of his voice was low, dangerous and husky: he growled out the last word.
Erik then stopped his attentions to her neck and brought his head level with hers once more. The burning stare was back in place as one of his hands removed itself from her grip momentarily.
It was now free to slink it's way up her side airily, coming to rest lightly against her cheek. "Alive...safe" he echoed, "Alive..."
Without warning, he spun her around, moving her so that her back was flush against his front. The hand that cupped her cheek moved to her soft curls once more, lightly stroking...admiring. His other hand remained twined with hers, and was laid to rest snugly against her belly, spread out flat. His long, agile fingers covered hers possessively. Softly, his voice barely above a whisper, he sang..."Angel of music...do not shun me. Come to your strange angel."
Sorry for the short chapter…next ones will be longer.
Please read…AND review.
