Hey, everyone, Chels here; sorry for the wait. Here is Chapter 5.Enjoy!

Chapter 5

To her surprise, Christine found herself in Erik's kitchen, and somehow she had found a way into his liquor cabinet. She held a bottle of scotch in her hand; she coughed every time she took a sip. It was strong... A lot stronger than anything she had ever drank, and before she knew it, she had regained that feeling of warmth and relaxation she had obtained earlier that night. Christine felt a sudden burst of confidence, and with Erik in bed just a few steps away, she knew she wouldn't be able to just leave.

Christine stood just outside his bedroom, trying to contemplate whether she really wanted to do what she was about to... Whether it was the right choice to make... Hell, of course it is, Christine thought... Maybe it was the alcohol thinking for her, but she didn't care either way anymore. She made to walk into the bedroom, but felt herself stumble once more. I really need to learn to hold my liquor... she thought; finding it quite humorous, she let out a tiny giggle.

Erik lie on his side, brooding upon the evening he'd shared with Christine. It was among the strangest in his lifetime. What had she wanted from him? He'd offered her sex, willingly, and she'd rejected it. What else was there that he had to give? He knew he would not get much sleep this night; his mind was full of too many unanswered questions. He made a feeble attempt to force himself to relax; upon its failure, he took a swig of brandy from his decanter near the bed. Even through the slight haze, he became aware of a person lurking outside of the bedroom.

Gathering her thoughts, Christine ascended the stairs to his bedroom. She stood there for a few moments before speaking. "Erik..."

"Yes, Christine, I know you are there."

This whole thing felt like an out of body experience to her. It seemed as though she was watching from above as she walked over to the bed where Erik lay. She bent down and kissed him lustfully, before she could do anything to stop herself.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, although not as sharply as he'd intended.

"Trying to finish what I stopped..." she said, bending down and kissing him again... She could smell the brandy on his breath– almost taste it.

"Now you want to?" he asked incredulously.

"I've wanted to this whole time."

He did not bother asking why she had stopped earlier; it no longer mattered. He pulled her down on top of him, kissing her lips, histongue slipping between them. He knew that she probably was only here for the reason he'd guessed earlier, but that did not mattereither. He loved her, and wanted to have her any way he could, despite he circumstances.

"You're drunk again," he muttered into the kiss.

"No, I'm not," she murmured back, slipping off her still unlaced dress, not breaking the kiss.

"Christine, do not lie. I can tell," he said, watching her as she maneuvered the dress off herself.

She rolled her eyes. "I may have had a drink, but I am most certainly not drunk... And you had a drink yourself, anyway," she said, asshe dropped her dress to the floor.

"I am much more used to alcohol than you are; it would have a much more profound effect on you than me," he explained patiently asshe freed herself from her dress.

"Does it even matter?" she asked, growing tired of the constant talking, she leaned down and kissed him again, slipping her tongue intohis mouth.

"It does indeed matter," he replied, breaking the kiss. "I have no desire to take advantage of you unfairly."

"You're not," Christine stated simply, leaning down and trying to capture his lips once more. He allowed her to, passably satisfied withher answer. He kissed her passionately, his hands going to her back, which was covered in the soft fabric of the chemise. He moanedquietly as she pressed her hips to his slightly.

As Christine kissed him, nothing else in the whole world seemed to matter. It did not matter that she had a husband far off in the northwho desperately loved her, it did not matter that she was breaking every moral code in society, it did not matter what her gossipingpeers would say about her behind her back once they started to suspect something was amiss. None of it mattered. All that mattered that she was finally there; that she was finally with him. After months of longing, of dreaming, of waiting, it was finally happening. She knew that neither of their intentions were very pure; that it might turn out to be the biggest mistake of her life once everything was said and done. But as he kissed her, his strong arms around her back, she knew that it was right. She knew that this was finally her chance to live, and not wonder for the rest of her life what might have been if she had taken that chance.

Eventually, their kiss broke, and between deep breaths; Christine kissed his neck with a need that she had never felt for anyone else before. She began to undo the buttons of his nightshirt, and she moaned as he moved his hands to her tender breasts. Pausing fromfumbling with the buttons, she closed her eyes and sat up. Grasping at the bottom of her chemise, she pulled it up over her head and off of her in one sweeping motion. Her breathing somewhat labored, she opened her eyes as she dropped the chemise to the floor with her dress.

Erik gazed up at Christine as he sat above him. He could hardly believe how beautiful she was. Abruptly he realized that she was still waiting for him; he proceeded to unbutton his night shirt; he pushed it back to his shoulders, revealing his chest once more. Christine then rolled off of him, laying on her back, waiting for him. He pulled the nightshirt off himself and tossed it to the ground. He rolled atop her.

She leaned up and kissed him, then reached her hand down and held his length in her hand, her breath shaky and hot against his neck. She had never touched Raoul this way... She had never even gazed into his eyes when he made love to her; they both always had their eyes squeezed shut. She moaned softly. He was definitely longer than Raoul... That was for certain, and he measure up to everything she had envisioned in her dreams... Quite possibly more. She closed her eyes; her heart felt like it would escape her chest at any moment due to it's heightening pace.

He too moaned, though more loudly at the feeling of her small, feminine hands on his member. He'd never known her to be this way; he adored her when she was dark just as much as he adored her when she was a young, innocent girl. The pleasure was so intense; he felt as if his head was spinning.

"Christine..." he whispered, shutting his eyes against the delirium. Christine couldn't take it anymore, the mere sound of her name against his lips made her need him so badly it was almost painful. With that, she guided him into her, inhaling sharply as she did so. She then brought her arms around his neck, kissing him wherever she could... This is it, she thought, it's really happening.

He bent his head down and kissed her breasts, drawing the erect nipples into his mouth as he picked up speed. He could hardly fathom the sensations that were coursing through him. Christine cried out in passion, moving her hands to the small of his back, driving him deeper and deeper into her as they moved together. With one last thrust, his release came. He'd never in his wildest dreams imagined that he'd ever feel this way with any woman, let alone the one beneath him. He cried out loudly as he shut his eyes and he collapsed, his head resting her breasts.

Christine too felt a loud moan rack her body then felt herself go limp. She closed her eyes, and drew deep steady breaths. She still couldn't believe what had just happened... She actually felt... Happy, if only for an instant. She rubbed his back absentmindedly as she reflected upon what had just happened.

Strangely, her tender, thoughtless caress meant just as much to him than what they had just shared, perhaps even more. His deep breaths now matched hers, and he laid there a few moments more before pulling out and rolling off her. He settled back against the pillows and drew the sheet over him.

Christine turned so she was lying on her stomach, and drew the sheet over her as well, though her back was still very much exposed. She ran her fingers through her messed hair, unable to find anything to say to Erik... It had been everything she had hoped it to be, but yet she found a strange yearning for something more.

He found her hand under the covers and held it in his, squeezing it gently a moment, before pulling away abruptly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight..." Christine whispered, finding it hard to work her voice... That single gesture had made her feel something that she couldn't put her finger on, and she wondered why it felt so much better than the sex.

As he lie there trying to fall asleep, he fought the desire to cradle Christine to him and kiss her cheek, falling asleep with her in his arms. But he knew that could never be. Shortly afterwards, he fell into a deep sleep, the warmth of Christine next to him a constant comfort to him.

Long after he had driftedto sleep, Christine lay there. Tears had begun to fall from her eyes and she didn't even know why... She assumed that she cried for Raoul... For how she had betrayed him... But most of all she came to the conclusion that she was crying for herself. Christine was the only person that she seemed to care about nowadays. Ever since becoming a noblewoman, she had just felt so empty and alone; she had thought that a night of passion with Erik would make her feel like she was alive again.

She had thought it would fill her with joy, but now as she lay next to him in bed, she felt more alone than she had before... Christine cursed herself for ever allowing herself to do such a thing, to be such a fool to think that this would cure all of her problems, when it had only conjured up new ones and rekindled the old.

It was far too late for her to run back to her estate now; she knew that when she waltzed back there in the morning, her hair a mess, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed... Probably small bruises upon her body as well... That they would know. All she could do was pray that they wouldn't tell Raoul... That he wouldn't figure it out... And what the hell would she do if she ran into Mme. Giry or Meg in the morning. After hours upon hours of such thoughts running their course in her head, she fell into a restless sleep. No longer did Erik occupy her dreams; all she could see was Raoul's face... He was the one that would haunt her now.

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