a/n: thank you to the two people that did indeed review:
phantomfreak258: i'm pretty sure that this should be a nice change of pace then.I hope.
Lize Radcliffe:thank you very much!
now, to the story, and please, please, please, if you read the chapter, review it.
and as a warning, and maybe a relief, they finally do get to the rated R part in this chapter, so please, if you are offended by it, you'll be able to tell where it's starting, so just skip over it.
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I wake up to a sudden movement from Raoul. I slowly turn to him and drowsily realize he seems just fine. Then I hear a moan and he tosses back. Watching him more intently he starts to toss and turn at an alarming rate. His face distorts into extreme discomfort. A nightmare.
I struggle onto my side so I can hold him close to me. Once I succeed in both I feel him trying to break free.
"Let me go!" his sharp cry pierces the calm air and my heart.
"Raoul, it's me, Erik," I whisper into his ear.
"Please… Let me go! I didn't do it! I swear! Why don't you believe me? I didn't do it!" his screams are more desperate and heart wrenching by the second.
In his relentless struggles, his hands find their ways to my arm and grasp at my wrists, shooting pain through my arm. I cry out, and watch as he shoots into a sitting position, gasping desperately for air.
He glances around, gathering his bearings.
"Raoul," my voice does nothing to hide the pain.
He turns to me, as I lie in a crouching position, sweating, my arms pulled to my chest, "What happened?"
I wince as I try to move my wrist. "It was a nightmare," I gasp, "You were having a nightmare."
His eyes glow with understanding, and then concern, "Are you alright?"
I nod, "I'll be fine."
"I hurt you," he comments.
"You didn't mean to, you couldn't help it," I comfort him.
"I'm still sorry," he reaches out and caresses my face, his hand slowly stroking my cheek. I close my eyes, leaning into his touch.
Turning so his hand now caresses my forehead, I ask, "What didn't you do?"
"What?" he seems so shocked…
"In your sleep, you yelled you didn't do 'it'. What didn't you do?" I move so his hand is on my cheek again, and then slowly move my hand to cover his.
"Oh, nothing. Just some stupid thing I did when I was younger," he brushes off.
"It had to be bad enough if you had a nightmare about it," I nudge.
He shrugs, "Childish things: bad then, not now."
"Please," I urge.
"I was five. My friend had come over. My brother, Philippe, never approved of having him over. He called my friend a thief and a cheat, just because he was poor. Philippe said that my friend, Josiah, only liked me because I had money and he didn't. I never believed my brother, until that day. Josiah had come over, but he had snuck in. We were playing upstairs when he knocked over a very fine and expensive vase. Seeing no other choice but to run or get caught, he ran, and he let me stay and take the blame. Philippe came storming into my room, first seeing if I was all right, then he yelled. He yelled so long and so loud. I kept begging and begging for him to believe me, for him to see that this wasn't my fault. He never listened. He beat me long and hard. I never felt him hurt me like that before and never again. It left me bloody and sore. He kept saying it was because I was a liar, and because I had broken one of the rules, he was so sure, and that's how the vase had broken. Once he left the room I laid my head on my pillow and finally let the tears fall. Never before then, just then. I cried myself into a deep sleep. I woke up the next morning and would not leave my room. I locked and barricaded the door. He never got in. For three days I didn't eat or drink anything. I never left my room, and I barely slept. I cried a lot though. Finally, on the fourth day, Josiah came to the house with a guilty heart and confessed to the entire thing. He admitted to it, because he felt guilty. Guilty! I never knew that liars and traitors could feel guilty. But he did. My brother instantly found his way into my room and came in, apologizing. He spoiled me every day afterwards: fine meals, extra treats, and grand gifts. But I could never forgive him. He held me long and hard. On the sixth day after my freedom, I heard a strange noise down the hall. I followed it to the drawing room to find Philippe crying. He turned to me and asked me "why?". I asked him what he meant and he answered, "Why cover for him? Why take the beating for him when you could have just confessed?". I told him he would never understand. He pulled me onto his lap, careful of my sores and cried onto my shoulder, apologizing again. It wasn't until that moment that I realized he did actually understand, and didn't want to admit it. I eventually forgave him. He still spoils me to this day, feeling guilty ever since," I watch as a tear strays from his eye. Only a single tear. (a/n: my longest paragraph ever written...)
"Oh, Raoul," I sigh.
He looks down at me.
"You're with me now," I coo. I find myself doing that very often now.
He smiles, "I know."
He takes my left hand and lightly lets his thumbs brush over the bandage covering the "R".
"Everyone has ghosts," he seems to just be thinking out loud, "Just some more than others."
He brings my wrist to his lips, brushing them lightly over the bandage. I find myself wishing that my lips were in the bandage's place.
I smile as he moves to grant my wish.
Holding my head gently in his hand, he pulls my face up, only slightly, so our lips meet. He smiles as our lips cover each others, and I find myself trying to erase this nightmarish image from his head, trying to replace it with memories more pleasant. My lips slowly trace his and his hand pulls me harder to him. He is starting to give into feelings that we have for each other; he no longer is shying away. The fact is so amazing to me! He loves me, and he knows it, and he's letting me know in the most precious of ways. I thank him inwardly for this.
I love you, Raoul, always know this!
He seems to love me too, the way he slips his tongue now into my mouth, searching my mouth much as I previously searched his. The warmth of his tongue in my mouth is intoxicating. I let myself fall into oblivion as his kiss deepens. And then I feel them move, slowly trailing down to my neck and stopping, his lips resting lightly in the crook of my neck.
I finally find my voice, "I love you!"
His breath whispers across my skin, "I love you too."
The tickle of his breath sends a fresh shiver down my spine, and flushes of heat a little lower.
My love, my angel, "My Raoul."
He smiles against my neck, "My Erik."
I feel his tongue flick out against my skin, tasting me. I moan and he straightens to face me, catching my lips and silencing me. He allows me to take control of the kiss this time, my lips molding over his and my tongue entering his mouth once more. I feel safe in this embrace, like the world will never reach me again as long as this man is here with me, loving me. This thought is the most comforting of all.
He pulls back and smiles at me, "This has gone on for far too long."
I frown, and he continues, "Let's stop the charades. We love each other, and we know that there is no marriage to wait for. Let's step this up. We can be careful, especially with you being injured, but this isn't enough any more. I love you, let me prove it."
My frown deepens in anxiety, "Raoul, it's not meant to be like that. Men can't…"
He shakes his head, "No, they aren't supposed to, but they can."
"How do you know?" a sly grin spreads across my face.
"I don't. But think about it, it has to be possible," he grins.
I nod and he has my back pressed against the bed, his legs straddling my hips. I feel that he wants this now, and I start to feel heat rush below my stomach.
I watch as he slowly leans over and rests his lips on my ear, "Do you have anything to make this a bit… smoother?"
I smile, "You'll find some lotion in the top drawer of the table."
He leans over and takes it out. He smirks, "What's with you and rose scented things?"
"It's the second greatest scent of all," I whisper.
"And what's the first?" he sets the bottle within reach, but out of the way.
"You," I pull his lips to mine and he kisses me as his hands travel and start to undo the buttons of my shirt.
His lips leave my mouth and travel down to my neck, passing along agonizingly slow. Eventually his lips meet my collarbone and he trails his tongue out along the bone. Moving lower still his lips move to the smooth of my stomach and he moans into my skin.
He straightens up as my arms move to his chest, taking off his shirt in turn. When the clothing is removed he simply shrugs it off. Things move much slower from here. I can't stand the slow pace of his kisses now, moving over every inch of skin. His lips only pause for moments above my nipples, before moving on to the rest of my chest. He seems to be enjoying this pace for us, he seems not to mind, but the heat that slowly builds between us speaks otherwise.
His hands now come to the inevitable task of taking off my pants. He does the job slowly and carefully, never touching my skin, keeping his hands on the fabric and the fabric off my body to the best of his abilities.
Finding myself free I cry out his name and he grins. His turn. I do the same task for him, but with a faster pace. I can't stand the slow pace that he works at, and though I find myself repeating the fact, it still bothers me.
He then reaches out for the lotion.
Making to do the job himself I stop him, "Please, allow me."
He smiles that famous grin that I find myself in love with and lets me take the bottle. I do my job carefully; feeling his muscles move against my hands as the task gets more heated.
Finishing I move back and look at his face, his eyes lost in a haze of ecstasy.
He then lays me back down and commands me to turn onto my stomach. I comply, eager to know what he has planned for me now.
He leans down over me, "This, for us to work out, this will hurt you."
"I know," I nod, "but there's no other way."
"Erik, I don't want you hurt anymore," he complains.
"This is a good pain though, Raoul. This is different," I point out.
"Are you sure you want this?" he kisses the back of my neck.
"Oh, God, yes!" I whisper out.
He then slowly takes his position over me and slowly drives himself into me. The feeling is indescribable, him inside me.
I cry out in pain and amazement and he stops. He lies down on my back, still inside me, his breath stretching little arms across my skin. I feel his hands stroking my back in a soothing manner.
Turning to him, I reassure him, "That was amazing."
"It hurt you!" he protests.
"Just a little," I shrug it off.
"Do you want me to stop?" he offers.
I shake my head no, no longer able to find my voice.
He then moves back to his task, driving in and out of me.
Reaching his limit, he drives in once more and I feel him release inside me, and I feel myself release as well. The feeling now causes my head to spin.
He pulls back out of me and gasps. I'm bleeding.
"Erik!" he pulls me close to him and holds me still.
"I'm alright," I whisper, barely able to move or speak without pain.
"No, you're not. We shouldn't have done this," he hushes me.
"Did you enjoy it?" I ask.
"What? Yes, I did, of course, but I hurt you," he complains.
"I liked it too," the last words I can get out before losing my battle with the oncoming darkness.
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please, please, please, review!