Disclaimer: Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber are the creators of The Phantom of the Opera; my characters are based on those in the 2004 film. Any new characters, and the plot, belong to me.
A/N: Strong warning for sexual content. My apologies if I offend anyone with the timing of certain "episodes" in this chapter. In Erik's and Christine's minds and hearts they are completely committed to each other, even without the benefit of sanction by the church, or anyone else, for that matter.
NO ONE BUT HER
Chapter Fourteen—Where You Long To Be
"Where is he, Marie?" Almost frantic, Christine caught Madame Giry by the shoulder. "I thought the gendarmes were finished with all of us."
In the near-chaotic aftermath of Christine's rescue, the small house where Robert had held her captive was overrun with people—carrying out Robert'sand Collette's bodies, boxing up the papers that proved the man had been embezzling for years, even a physician that had given her a cursory examination despite her insistence that she had not been harmed.
"As soon as he knew you were all right, he disappeared. The authorities have his statement, and now yours, that he killed that miserable cochon in self-defense. I would imagine that he needed to be alone for a bit and has probably gone home." She took Christine by the shoulders and turned her to the light, so she could look into the younger woman's eyes.
"Marie, what are you doing?"
The older woman smiled briefly and kissed her on both cheeks, murmuring, "Bien. It is long past time, ma petite. God bless you both." With that she released Christine and walked away.
"Has everyone gone mad?" Muttering under her breath, Christine commandeered a horse and buggy, rather abruptly assuring the captain of the gendarmes that she was perfectly capable of driving herself. "Just you wait until I get to your house, Erik," she said, snapping the reins and sending the horse flying down the road.
She had worked herself into a fine temper by the time she arrived and barely stopped the buggy before she bounded from it. Marching up to the door she pounded on the stout oak panels with her small fist.
Erik jerked the door open almost immediately, a heavy scowl on his face. "What the hell were you thinking, driving out here alone?"
She answered him in a similar tone. "And what the hell were you thinking, leaving like that? I didn't know if you were all right or . . ." Sighing, she reined in her temper. "May I come in?"
In reply he simply moved to one side and let her brush past him. For a brief moment he scanned the night; sensing no danger, he closed the door and locked it. Turning, he saw her standing with her hands propped on her hips, one foot beating a rapid tattoo on the floor. Dear God! he thought, she's never looked more beautiful!
He must have said it aloud, because her face softened, all her anger suddenly gone, and she walked toward him, her eyes filling with tears.
Knowing him well enough now to be certain that he needed her embrace, she slid her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest just above his heart. "Oh, Erik!" she whispered.
"I'm here, Angel," he answered, his voice rumbling under her ear. His arms held her close and she delighted in the warmth and strength of them, of him, the scent of soap and water and . . . Erik.
She raised her head and looked at him. Staring deeply into his eyes, she said softly, "Yes, I can dare to look and bear to think of you. I have learned to see and have found the man. You are not a loathsome gargoyle, nor a monster, nor a repulsive carcass," quoting his own words of years before back to him.
Feeling his start of surprise, she continued, "You are the man I love." Slowly she caressed his face, feeling her heart thump heavily when he took her hands and pressed kisses in both palms. When he finally looked at her, she saw a sheen of tears in his beautiful blue eyes and pulled his face down until only an inch separated them. Softly she sang, "Erik, I love you!" and kissed him on the mouth.
He hesitated and she pulled back, tears in her eyes. "Please, love," she begged, "let me in. Let me save you from your solitude."
With a groan he tightened his arms around her, his mouth hot on hers, ravaging her hungrily, as though he could never get enough. Her tongue tangled with his, met him thrust for thrust.
Suddenly he broke the kiss and Christine moaned. He stared down at her, his chest heaving, his hands restlessly moving up and down her back. Quietly he asked, "Are you certain, love?"
She nodded enthusiastically, a brilliant smile on her face. Touching his scarred cheek, she told him, "I have never been more certain of anything in my life."
He startled a small cry from her when he bent and lifted her in his arms, cradling her against his chest. Her arms went around his neck and without another word he started down the hallway to his bedroom, stopping after he'd taken only a few steps. "Oh, my angel," he whispered, "I—"
Leaning over a few inches she sealed her mouth to his for a long moment then broke away. "Please, Erik, make me yours!"
With a low growl he strode to his bedroom, depositing her gently on the edge of the wide, rumpled bed. His arms braced on either side of her, he leaned down and kissed her, tenderly at first then with growing heat.
Wedging a hand between them, Christine grabbed the ruffled collar of his shirt and tugged, tumbling him down on top of her. Quickly he rolled to the right, sliding his left arm around her so that she lay atop him. Softly she laughed, earning a gentle smile from him. Having seen so few of his smiles, she touched his lips with her fingers, laughing again as he playfully nipped them.
His play soon turned to seduction as he drew each fingertip into his mouth and suckled it. Raising up a little and sliding her other hand down his chest, she pulled his shirt free of his trousers, spread open the fine linen and gently caressed the hard wall of warm skin and muscle, concentrating on the patch of dark hair in the center.
His hands moved slowly from her back around to cup her breasts. She felt her nipples tighten and press hard against the bodice of her dress. Gasping, she let her head fall back as he gently rubbed his thumbs over the cloth covering the aching tips. "Oh, God, Erik!"
Suddenly their positions were reversed and she found herself staring up at him. "Those pleading eyes, that no longer threaten, only adore," she whispered.
"Christine, I love you so much," he breathed and bent down to take her mouth in a scorching kiss. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, reveling in the feel of his weight on her. After a moment he tried to lever himself off her small frame, but she held on tight.
"I'm too heavy for you, love; I don't want to crush you," he said softly between kisses.
"No, it's all right—your weight feels wonderful to me." Suddenly she frowned. "That's what is different! The ring," she explained at his questioning look. "You're not wearing the chain with m—the ring."
"Only because the chain broke—I have the ring in my pocket," he murmured, resuming his assault of tiny kisses along her jaw line and down her neck to her collarbone. His hands went to the row of miniscule buttons down the center of her bodice. After several attempts he growled in frustration, "How in the hell do you manage these damned buttons?"
Laughing softly she covered his hands with hers. "Usually I'm not in quite such a hurry to get them open." In short order she had opened all the buttons to her waist. The fine lawn chemise did nothing to hide her beauty and Erik sat back for a moment.
"You leave me speechless, Angel," he whispered reverently. He helped her sit up and together they removed the bodice of her dress. When she leaned forward, one strap of her chemise slid off her shoulder and he bent down to kiss his way from the curve of her neck to the ball of her shoulder.
She gasped and shivered, and he tipped her chin up. "I've been waiting to do that since D—" Realizing what he'd been about to say, he clamped his mouth shut abruptly.
"Since Don Juan Triumphant," she finished. Sighing softly she went on, "It's a part of our history, Erik. It's always going to be there. But it is in the past. I know that you are not the same man that you were then. A part of me loved you then, I think, but a larger part of me feared you even more, feared what you might do." She shrugged. "I don't fear you anymore. I haven't for months now, not since I saw how gentle and loving you were with my children—Raoul's children." Lying back, she smiled up at him. "Right now I want nothing more than for you to take me in your arms and make love to me."
She reached up and pushed his shirt back, tracing the broad, tanned shoulders while he reached behind him and jerked the sleeves down his arms. Flinging his shirt to the floor, he sat back on his heels.
Christine felt as though she'd swallowed her tongue. Numerous times she'd seen him with his shirt open and therefore knew his chest was magnificent, but the sight of him now, with no shirt at all . . . Suddenly she felt hot all over and fanned herself with one hand.
He grinned down at her. "I think, milady, that we're both still a little overdressed, don't you?"
Eagerly she nodded and he helped her sit up again. "How does your skirt fasten and how many damnable petticoats do you have on?"
Chuckling at his aggrieved tone, she answered, "The skirt has a single button on the side, and I'm wearing two petticoats. One ties on the side and the other in the back."
He slid one hand around her waist, his fingers searching for the button on her skirt when she collapsed in hysterical laughter. "Stop! Stop! I'll do it!"
Filing away for future reference the information that she was very ticklish, he dropped a kiss on the end of her nose and said, "As my lady commands." He moved to the edge of the bed and toed off his knee-high black boots then watched as she slid to the floor, reaching for the button fastening her skirt.
His heart began to beat faster as she let the skirt drop to the floor. It took off at a gallop when she loosened the two petticoats and let them pool at her feet. Clad only in her chemise, pantalets and stockings, she turned, facing him bravely while a faint flush of color rose to her cheeks.
"Holy Mother of God!" He slowly walked the few steps to her, his eyes devouring her. Lifting her against his chest he returned to the bed, but this time he sat on the edge, still holding her as he scooted back against the pillows.
Christine touched his face and he tensed. Gently she made him look at her. "Erik, what's wrong?"
"I—I tried to tell you earlier, but you stopped me." His embarrassment obvious, he cleared his throat. "I—um—" He took a deep breath and blurted out before he lost his nerve, "I've never done this before! I—I know what to do, but . . ."
"Oh!" Sitting on his lap she could feel the evidence of his desire for her pressing against her bottom and she smiled gently at him. "It's all right, love." Slowly she moved off his lap and knelt by his side. "Just lie back and let me . . ."
After a moment he nodded and let out a slow breath. Closing his eyes, he tried to relax but jolted a little when she laid her palm on his chest over his heart. With a feather-light touch she skimmed her hand over his chest and he gasped softly.
"Shhh," she whispered, "it's all right." Her hand drifted ever so slowly toward his lean waist and his hips jerked at her touch. The bulge in his trousers grew and she smiled to herself.
His chest heaving, Erik opened his eyes. "Oh, Angel!"
"Shhhh! Your job is simply to lie there," she told him in a pseudo-stern voice.
"Yes, milady." Amazingly, his voice sounded almost normal. But his hands clutched the bedclothes as he fought the urge to move.
A/N: I also apologize for the somewhat abrupt ending here, but there really is no good place to stop in a scene like this, and it's too long for one chapter. Don't worry—the rest will be posted shortly.
Tink20, I hope this is "fluffy" enough for you!