Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom.
Note: this chapter lives up to the PG13 rating. Erik muses about desire and sex and lots of that good old stuff, so be cautious. :D
XXX
He was sleeping. It was all Erik seemed to do during the day when Christine was gone. If only there was a way he could see her… but even with his mask, he didn't dare venture out, not without her by his side. He didn't want society to look down on Christine just because she was crazy enough to share Erik's company.
Yawning, he rolled over on the bed and rubbed his currently unmasked face, stretching a bit. He'd had the strangest dream…
He'd been playing a violin, luring Christine to him with the music, and he shivered at the raw passion that he'd witnessed in her eyes.
His face was flushed at the memory, and he gave himself a light shake, sitting up fully and grasping his mask, putting it firmly on his face. Time to ponder his dream later, right now he had a mind to prepare something for Christine to eat when she returned home.
Cooking, Erik concluded, was an art even he could not master. Living with the circus since he was just a boy, he'd never learned even the most basic ways of making food, and he was suffering for it. Finally making some rather messy sandwiches, he managed to also prepare some rather weak tea. Christine would be home soon, and he was eager to hear her excited voice as she spoke about everyone at the Opera House, and how her day had gone.
Erik knew he was living through Christine. There was nowhere in the world that he would be accepted, but he was content hiding here in Christine's home if it meant he could lay in her arms at night and feel her warm breath against his neck.
Swallowing down a mouthful of tea, he sat down on a cushioned chair before the empty fireplace and thought.
What could he offer Christine? He knew nothing of the world; he'd grown up in a cage being stared at. He hated people… yet what was this strange welling in his chest, the feeling of intense loyalty and longing he hand for Christine? He didn't know love, he'd never had it… so how did he know what it was so suddenly? How did the meaning of the word become so clear in his mind every time he looked into her eyes?
He sighed, quite confused again.
And the state he'd been in upon waking… he'd never experienced such a thing before. His silk trousers had been uncomfortably tight, and he'd felt a strange urge to bask in the memories of his dream. When he'd broken out of his thoughts, he'd been moving his hand over his legs… what was going on?
Erik wasn't a fool. He'd seen the prostitutes at the circus; he knew what happened between a man and a woman, but only the bare outlines. He knew that a man and woman coupled and made babies, he knew that it was supposed to be pleasurable, that a man would put himself inside a woman and they would move together, he'd seen shadows cast by lanterns inside the small tents, he'd watched bodies tangle…
And yet, he'd always felt strangely apart from such a thing. As if he was in a sterile box, unable to feel from anything. Until now. With Christine, he felt everything, and he didn't understand what all the strange emotions, thoughts and sensations meant.
Erik was started from his thoughts by the door opening a few feet away, and he turned, watching as Christine entered and moved quickly toward him. Sinking to her knees at his side, she leaned forward, resting her cheek against his chest and closing her eyes.
"I missed you so today, Erik…" she whispered, and he smiled shakily as he put his arms cautiously around her shoulders and slender waist.
The feeling he'd had after his dream rose up again, and he flushed.
It was going to be a long day.