A/N

WARNING: This chapter is most definitely rated 'R' for explicit sex. I've tried very hard to not write it as a smutty love scene, and keep it tasteful, as always.

C'mon guys, it's the wedding night!

Enjoy!

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Chapter 25: What Raging Fire

He set her down as soon as they stepped inside the bedroom, and turned from her to close the heavy door behind them. All was darkness for a moment, and then he walked to the fireplace.

The fire built, bathing the room in a warm glow, and Christine's eyes widened. A huge four-poster canopy bed was the centerpiece of the room, hung with heavy crimson velvet, with a lush coverlet of the same. From beneath peeked a red and a black silk sheet, and the silk-covered pillows were a mixture of solid scarlet and solid black.

Two armchairs were by the fireplace, crimson velvet upholstery, and the carpet was thick and lush beneath Christine's bare feet as she kicked off her slippers, but at the moment, she had eyes only for the magnificent bed.

Erik was not so eager to leap straightforwardly into the bed, however. Seduction, complete seduction, beyond even their first night together was his intent. He planned on making this night one that would wipe all others from her mind, as mere play compared to the passion and fire that he planned to show her tonight.

She was still dressed fully in her wedding garb, and he moved to help her with it, loosening his cravat as his fingers brushed the edge of her jawline and began to move slowly up her face, barely touching.

The tips of his long, graceful fingers brushed her temples, curled briefly in the tendrils of brunette curls that he found there, then gently lifted the frothy lace and silver filigree from her head.

Rose petals fell to the carpet, a few catching in her hair, and Erik left them. Deftly he removed the pins from her hair, allowing it to fall loose and captivatingly free about her shoulders.

Then, he stepped away from her, removing his jacket and stepping to the table beside the armchairs, where a bottle of fine wine and two crystal goblets stood. He poured a small amount of the rich crimson liquid into each of the glasses, and then offered one to her.

Christine took a dainty sip, the scarlet liquid coloring her lips. She did not notice when Erik downed the small amount in his glass in two sips, and then gracefully came around to stand behind her.

She did not notice until she felt his heated breath on her neck, his fingers lifting her hair and laying it gently over one shoulder, leaving the pale skin of her neck exposed.

His fingers, first, traced over the silky flesh, then replaced with his lips trailing from the nape of her neck to the place between her shoulders, his hands moving gently, fingers splayed, across the pale velvet of her upper chest, tracing the neckline of her gown, but going no further.

His tongue darted from between his lips, barely touching, fluttering over her skin and elicting a sudden gasp from her lips. Christine's head tilted back, her eyelids fluttering as he continued his torturous play.

His lips traced a fiery trail over her shoulders, his teeth nipping at the harsh line of her collarbone. Her back arched and a small moan escaped, her eyes closing and her hand tightening about the fragile glass.

Erik reached around and gently removed the wine glass from her hand, and refilled it halfway, then handed it to her. "Drink it." he invited, a small smile curving the edges of his lips as he watched her waver, unsteady on her feet, then raise the glass to her trembling mouth.

He took the opportunity to stoke the fire, then returned to his bride. He stood behind her, his strong hands slowly unlacing the back of her gown one hook at a time, his hot breath and smooth lips always just a hairsbreadth from the sensitive skin of her throat.

Christine's breath hitched time and time again as he worked his way torturously down her neck, his lips barely touching her skin, moving down a fraction with the unloosing of each button, each lace. Her breathing grew ragged as she realized that he hadn't even begun on her corset yet!

The gown slipped partially from her shoulders as it loosened, and Erik's strong, long-fingered hands ran slowly over her skin, edging the gown down her body slowly. The crush of silk slipped down to pool about her feet, and his hands went to her waist again, tugging at the laces of the corset until it was loosened. His own breathing ragged, he threw the restrictive garment aside, and then slowed his pace once more, his hands sliding slowly up her body, from her hips to the sensuous curve of her waist, finally lingering on the smooth silk covering her small, but perfect breasts.

Christine bit back a cry as the tips of his fingers made slow, hot circles, arching her back, fingers curling in the air. Erik began a slow descent down the expanse of back bared by the chemise, kissing and nipping his way down her spine in time with the slow progress of his fingers across her breasts.

She spun then, unable to bear the exquisite torture any longer. Her mouth came down on his, and Erik reeled, surprised at such forcefulness from his delicate Christine. It did not last long—the kiss soon slowed to a controlled pace, and Erik returned it, his hands returning to her waist, her arms around his neck as they kissed leisurely.

She tasted of wine, her mouth hot and sweet, and he groaned aloud, his gentle musician's hands hardening into a strong grip about her waist. He pulled her harshly against him, her soft body flush with his, and her eyes widened with a last trace of maidenly surprise as she felt him, hard and insistent against her.

Christine moaned into his mouth as his tongue waged a delicate war with her own, her hands fumbling feverishly from his face to his neck to the front of his shirt, where her nimble fingers began to make quick work of the ivory buttons. He allowed her to go halfway before he pinioned her hands to her sides with his own, his mouth dropping from her lips to brush tantalizingly along her jawbone and down her throat, his teeth grazing her delicate skin as he went.

She freed her hands and slipped them inside of his crisp linen shirt, stroking the heated skin, tangling her fingers in the curling black hair on his chest. His fingers pressed into her hips through the smooth silk of her chemise, and her hands reached around to his back, nails digging in and sliding down on either side of his spine.

Erik groaned, a half-strangled cry in his throat as he arched his back and gripped her hips tightly, pulling her against him in a desperate attempt to alleviate the ache where her hips met his own. She slid against him sensuously, delighting in the sounds that emanated from his mouth each time she moved against him.

He kissed her again, more gently this time, but it kindled the fire building within Christine hotter still, and she finished unbuttoning his shirt, pulling away from him only long enough to remove the garment completely from his body.

He picked her up then and carried her to the bed, standing over her as he sat her on the edge, fingers sliding slowly along her shoulders as he pushed the chemise away from her. The firelight flickered on her skin, and glittered in her eyes, wide and glazed with desire. He pushed her gently back onto the velvet coverlet, completely nude save for the lace stockings she still wore. He left those alone for the moment, and joined her on the bed, kneeling over her as he kissed her again, his mouth plundering hers before beginning a slow journey over her body.

Christine arched her back as he paused for a moment at the hollow of her throat, tongue darting out and circling around the small depression before his lips moved lower, to trace the outline of first one small breast, then the other. She closed her eyes, fingers digging into the velvet blanket beneath her.

His teeth nipped suddenly at the hard, rosy peak of her breast, and she cried out, a low, strangled sound in her throat. He continued on, not deigning to stay in one spot long. When his mouth reached the soft flesh of her inner thigh, she drew her legs up, begging him silently. But his mouth remained on her leg, moving slowly down to the garters of her lace stockings. His fingers slid sensuously down the silk of her calf, unrolling the lace slowly, his mouth and tongue following, covering the skin inch by inch, and replacing with hot kisses where the cool lace had lain.

His mouth swept over the arch of her foot, and Christine's toes curled with the sensation. "Please, Erik…" she begged suddenly, but he would not adhere until he had done the same to her left leg and stocking.

Christine lay then, completely nude on the bed, the firelight turning her skin a rich glow of gold, a faint sheen of sweat already lacing her body. Erik returned to her mouth then, his sinuous body stretched the length of her own, hovering over her with a torturous proximity. Her fingers reached up to trace the lines of his beloved face, and they gripped the edge of his mask.

He made a move to stop her, but she kissed his lips gently, the fires dimmed for only a moment. "I love you, Erik." she whispered softly, and pulled the mask from his face, tossing it from the bed onto the floor. "Not for this…" and here she placed a gentle hand on his deformed cheek, "…but for this." Christine laid her hand over his chest, where his heart was racing madly in time to a raging fire that was coming ever closer to claim them both.

Erik could not remember a moment in his life when he had been more ready, or desired more greatly, to be utterly consumed.

He stripped away his trousers, the last barrier between them, and settled between Christine's legs as she reached up to touch his face, claiming his mouth in a gentle kiss.

What raging fire shall flood the soul…

He came into her slowly, mindful that she was as yet very inexperienced, and Christine felt only waves of pleasure as his fingers trailed over her body.

What rich desire unlocks its door…

Erik moved slowly, savoring the feel of her body beneath him, enveloping him, the taste of her mouth as he kissed her again, ever so gently, rubbing his lips against hers and fluttering his tongue within her mouth, restraining the urge to increase his pace when she moaned into his mouth and arched her body against his, setting him afire.

What sweet seduction lies before us…

He seduced her, body, mind and soul, with torturously slow movements and hot, gentle kisses. She cried out beneath him, writhed until he thought he would go mad, and the raging fires burned hotter as he maintained the slow, tormenting pace.

Erik lowered his mouth to the place where her pulse beat, delighting as he felt it beat wildly against his lips. "Oh, God, Erik!" Christine cried out as he bit down on her collarbone, and her hands left his shoulders to press against the muscles of his naked back as he increased his pace fractionally.

Past the point of no return…

Memories of her body pressed against his on the stage, her eyes closed in rapture as his hands slid over her filled his mind. With them came the damning thought of Raoul de Chagny, and he clenched his jaw, stilling over her body for a moment.

Christine thought she would scream. "Erik, please…" she moaned, her nails digging into his back.

The final threshold…

Erik ran his hands down her body as she arched against him, strong and hard, feeling the curves of her figure, her smooth, sweat-slicked flesh. He gripped her hips and thrust into her suddenly, hard. Christine moaned aloud, her legs entwining with his as she raised to meet him. "Oh, God, Erik…"

The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn…

"Mine." He whispered savagely as his pace changed from slow and gentle to hard and furious in the space of an instant, the need to love her replaced with the need to possess her entirely. "You are mine, Christine!"

"Yes…" she hissed through her teeth, slamming her body against his and pressing her mouth painfully to his lips, biting, her tongue sliding into his mouth and her nails digging into his back until she felt a trickle of blood. "God, Erik!"

Her entire body convulsed, and she bit back a scream, a strangled cry erupting from her mouth nonetheless, sobbing out Erik's name as her body trembled all around him. A second later, he was shaking above her, and she clung to him as he slowed his frantic pace within her, his strokes once again slow and gentle until the final waves of pleasure had coursed through them.

We've passed the point of no return.

He withdrew from her then, and rolled over to lay beside her, taking her left hand in his own. "My wife, Christine." he whispered in complete wonder. "My wife!"

"Yes, Erik." She leaned forwards and wrapped her hand around the back of his head, drawing him down for another kiss. "I am yours."

He kissed her again, and the slow stirrings of desire raised in them both.

It was sweet and slow, until they both were spent again and this time lay still, Christine nestled against Erik.

Sleep began to wash over them both, but in that fraction of an instant, in that space between waking and sleeping, Erik heard Christine's gentle voice whisper: "I love you."

It was, to Erik Couturier, as though the past thirty-nine years of misery had been but a day, so unimportant and far away did they seem in that instant, when he held the woman that he loved against him and fell asleep tangled in each others arms.

One love, one lifetime.

With him.