A/N: Bonjour, mes amies! Welcome to the turning point of this phic… Indeed, this chapter should be quite interesting. I do hope you like it! Don't forget to post a review, either way! –smiles sweetly- Might I reiterate that the rating is upped for this chappie... nothing VERY graphic, but not suitable for children or even squirmish teens/adults. Debated whether or not to make it T or M rating... isn't really all that bad, went with T. If you think otherwise, please let me know in a review and I'll up it to M. Thanks!
-from the diary of Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny-
Dear Diary,
Spent the day lounging around Nade's pool, reading a book, when suddenly, found myself flailing in the water, fully clothed, with Nade staring down at me, grinning. She then proceeded to jump in after me. Chased her around the house, screaming and creating quite a ruckus, as she refused to tell me where the towels were. Talked it over with Erik, and found that she did the same thing with him. Starting to think, arrogant as it may sound, that she continues to do so merely for the sake of seeing us sopping wet. Most aggravating. Oh well… Greek pizza tonight, and Erik's coming over for Scrabble and a drink. Do hope he doesn't spell "fop" out again; it's not a word. Might have to resort to a battle of wits, and frankly, he doesn't have a chance.
Sincerely,
Raoul
-grins- Just had to do that. Alright. On with the chapter! –charge!-
My first conscious thought was that I had never felt a pillow so soft in my entire life. At first my heart clenched in panic, for I could not remember where I was or who I was, for that matter. From behind my closed eyelids I could see a faint, flickering light, but when I tried to open them, my head seared with a blinding pain, and I quickly closed them again. Somewhere above me I heard a gasp, and cool, slender fingers came to caress my burning neck and face.
Air… there was fresh air on my right cheek…
My pulse quickened as I groped frantically for the hand which dared to uncover my… what? What was it that I feared—that made my breath come in ragged gasps, my heart beat frantically, my every last nerve go rigid in panic? For a moment I could not remember; instinctively, my hand shifted to the right side of my face. The pads of my fingertips inspected the bizarre array of bumps and crevices and strangely textured, burning flesh.
My face…
Despite the knowledge of the pain that would result from opening my eyes, I squinted up against the harsh, iridescent light, struggling in the arms of my attacker. I panted and squirmed and managed to catch my adversary's wrist… so small and cold…
Baring my teeth and snarling like a beast, I managed to focus on the person who held me down.
An angel stared down at me. For a moment I could do nothing but stare in disbelief… she was breathtakingly beautiful. An ocean of chestnut curls cascaded down her slender shoulders; the warm glow of candlelight danced in her deep, kind brown eyes. Her skin was like cream, her lips the smooth velvet of rose petals. She radiated compassion through her very pores, it seemed, and suddenly I knew, if nothing else, that I loved her.
Her brows lifted slightly as my grip on her wrist loosened, and she reached audaciously to stroke my malformed cheek yet again.
"Hush, mon ange," she whispered, her fingers brushing gently along my jawbone. "Lay still. I'm here now." She bent to press her lips to my fevered forehead, and I realized with a jolt of my heart that my head rested in her lap. For reasons yet unclear to me, tears welled in my eyes, and I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. A voice which seemed to resonate from the depths of my soul howled at her gentle touch, insisting that something was terribly, terribly wrong…but my aching body objected, and my tear-filled eyes refused to be torn from her beautiful face.
My mind reeled… who was this magnificent creature—this angel of mercy?
A name worked its way gradually to the front of my mind, and evoked a concurrent delight and pang in the center of my being.
Christine…
I shivered. Yes… yes, that was her name. Christine. The angel's name was Christine.
A smile worked its way across my parched, cracked lips, and my heart thrilled as she returned it. With a deep, shuddering breath, I allowed the tense, sore muscles of my neck to relax into the warmth of her lap, and let the sweet, familiar darkness claim me, feeling safe and secure in her arms.
A/N: Haha— THE END! –dodges flying objects- Just kidding, just kidding! –cackles- Sorry, couldn't resist. Mmk, it's about to get a little steamy in here, people… I've given you fair warning! Rating goes up… NOW! Past the point of no return— no going back now! Our passion play has now, at last— ahem. –bites lip and looks away- Alright. I'm done. Haha. On with the E/C-ness!
Upon waking for the second time, my fever had died down to a painful simmering in the core of my gut, but the temporary amnesia associated with it had, thankfully, burned its way out of my system. I drifted back to consciousness with a moan and a splintering headache, but upon pressing my palm to my forehead, I found the flesh to be surprisingly cool and clammy.
Snippets of memory from the past few… how long had it been?— hours? days?— surfaced to my conscious mind. For a moment I simply laid there, trying to piece the dissonant fragments together.
By the time I deciphered that Christine had come to my aid after I had fallen ill (or had it been merely a pleasant dream?), my thawing senses finally began to recognize the gentle lapping of water from the next room. I looked about warily; I was back in my own bedroom, dressed in a crimson silk robe and matching pair of sleeping pants. My chest was bare and bruised in places. The revolting, yellowish-purple splotches prodded my curiosity, and I began to gently twist my aching muscles, searching for similar or—God forbid— worse injuries. I discovered a clotted gash that ran the length of my upper right arm, but it had been tended to, dressed with a thick ointment. Aside from the minor bruising and occasional scrape, I seemed to be, remarkably, unscathed.
But what of my nurse—the angel of mercy who had cared for me so dutifully?
The sounds of water from the next room finally captured my undivided attention. The bedroom was dimly lit by candlelight, and a beam of light shone brightly around the curtain which served as my bedroom door. Slowly, I attempted to rise to my feet, and found that I was no longer overwhelmed by nausea at the movement. Instead, my aching calf muscles screamed in agony as I forced them to support my body weight. I flinched against the searing pain, hissing through clenched teeth, but managed to hobble quickly over to the curtain and the source of the noise.
Peering around the crimson curtain, I spotted Christine kneeling by the little pool of filtered water which I kept for drinking and bathing purposes, ladling the cool liquid into a small wash basin. The delicate flesh of her small, pale hands had been rubbed raw, and her white dress was bloodstained and tattered; my brow furrowed in concern, and I took several quiet steps forward to investigate.
I stopped in my tracks at the sight of my lair, gaping all around me. A pile of soiled clothes and bed sheets was heaped next to the furnace, along with a metal washboard and a bar of pearly soap. The sheet music which had been cast haphazardly across my organ and workspace was now stacked and categorized neatly, my organ polished, the candle wax drippings, cobwebs, mothballs and dust swept completely out of sight. My mask was set out on the end table near my organ, my cloak hung on its proper hook near my workbench. The place was positively immaculate, and barely recognizable.
"You did this?" I wheezed, shifting my attention back to Christine. She spun around to face me with a gasp, her hand flying to her open mouth. She scampered to her feet, smoothing her dress and hair.
"Master! I did not realize you were awake." She squirmed restlessly under my gaze, her weary brown eyes darting nervously around the room. "Yes, I-I… well, you were sick, and once you fell unconscious again, I-" Her eyes finally locked with mine as I drew steadily closer, studying her small, trembling form intently. She swallowed and closed her eyes briefly as I took one of her reddened hands in my own and began to stroke the tender flesh gently. "I'm sorry if I've done something wrong," she managed finally, her voice barely a whisper.
I narrowed my eyes slightly at her; they glinted in amusement at her palpable fear, while the rest of my face remained locked in a neutral expression. Slowly, I turned her hand over within my own, brushing my fingertips along the sensitive skin of her palm. Still, I stared deeply into her eyes, refusing to break eye contact. "Why do you fear me, Christine?" I breathed, bringing her hand to my lips and kissing each fingertip gently. I watched, fascinated, as her breath caught and quickened in her chest, despite her obvious effort to maintain composure. An amused smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, but I swallowed it forcefully.
She bit down on her lip as if to stifle a cry, her eyes a torrent of emotion. Betrayal, pain, lust, and disgrace gathered in those pools of beloved brown as she stared up at me. "You killed Buquet," she said coldly.
I arched an eyebrow, bringing my lips to her wrist. Her heart pounded in her veins, betraying her true desires, though she tried to cover them with anger and accusations.
"Did I?" I asked, trailing my lips lightly up her wrist and inner arm, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her skin. "Tell me, Christine," I breathed into her skin between kisses, "Did your beloved vicomte tell you that?" She moaned softly as my tongue slipped curiously into each kiss, filling my mouth with the delicious taste of her. I continued to brush my lips upwards until, quite suddenly, there was no more flesh left to savor; here I paused to nuzzle the warm air just above her shoulder. Christine's eyes, which had rolled shut as my lips traveled up her arm, fluttered open and gazed up at me with a smoldering passion, a ravenous desire which had but one outlet. Her lips were parted, her breath coming in soft gasps, but she would not—or could not—answer me.
I could no longer stifle a satisfied smirk as I moved in closer to her beautiful porcelain face, my lips hovering mere centimeters from hers. Christine's breath was hot and moist as it mingled with my own, and for a moment I had to reprimand myself before losing all self-control. Tilting my head slightly to the side, I brushed my lips to her temple, and whispered softly into her ear. "How about a lesson?"
She jerked back from me as if she'd been stung, her brows knitting in confusion. "A lesson?" Her voice trembled nearly as much as the rest of her body. "Mon ange, I cannot—"
My eyes danced gleefully as I brushed past her and began to rummage through the organized stacks of sheet music. Finding the song I wanted, I quickly turned to hand it to her.
"I trust you read through the songs while organizing." It was not a question, but my voice held an undertone of amusement which she seemed to catch on to. She blushed, taking the sheet lightly in her hand and studying the lyrics momentarily. Her eyes widened fearfully as they darted back to mine.
"Oh, no, mon ange, you cannot ask me to sing this…"
My gaze hardened slightly. "I am your teacher, Christine. You will sing what I ask you to sing." I took a few steps closer to her, fighting another smile as her resolve visibly weakened. "And I am asking you to sing this." In another few steps, I had come to stand directly behind her, my cheek resting in her curls, my lips pressed to her ear lobe. "Sing," I whispered, bringing a hand up to stroke her neck lightly in a motion that I knew would drive her mad. She moaned, and I smiled at the vibration of her vocal chords against my fingertips. I wrapped my free arm around her small waist, the fingers of my right hand still skirting the flesh of her neck. "Sing," I commanded again, pulling the length of her body tightly against mine.
Her voice trembled uncontrollably as she complied:
You have brought me
To that moment where words run dry,
To that moment where speech disappears
Into silence,
Silence . . .
She hesitated, turning her head to try and look at me. I pressed my temple tightly to hers, forbidding the action. Her pleading doe eyes would not win her disobedience this time. "Good," I hissed. "Continue."
I have come here
Hardly knowing the reason why
In my mind I've already imagined
Our bodies entwining, defenseless and— "God, Erik!"
I inhaled sharply at the use of my name, drawing my lips and tongue away from the point at which her neck and collarbone met. Christine arched her back against the painfully obvious sign of my own pleasure, gasping and tilting her head back. I could not resist the tender flesh of her long, pale neck, and crushed my lips against her skin, capturing it between my tongue and upper lip and sucking hungrily. Christine writhed in my grasp, tossing her head restlessly.
"Sing," I managed between fevered kisses.
"I can't!" she gasped breathlessly. "God, I can't…"
"You can," I assured her, kissing my way up to the soft, tender spot behind her ear. Drunk on desire, needing to see her reaction, I prodded this spot with my tongue, and grinned as she arched her back again and whimpered.
"Erik, please," she panted, her chest heaving beneath her corset. I grinned devilishly, swirling my tongue along the back of her ear.
"Please what?"
She snatched the hand which clutched her waist and brought it to her lips, pressing desperate kisses to my wrist. I growled in pleasure and relaxed the hand as she nipped at the flesh and began to explore with her own tongue. My own mouth traveled back to the hollow at the base of her neck, and she tilted her head instinctively to the side to allow me easier access.
"Go on," I insisted, parting from her sweet flesh momentarily to snatch the piece of sheet music from where it had fallen from her limp hand. I pressed it to her palm, but my momentary absence had driven her nearly to madness. She spun to face me, free of my constricting grasp, and pressed her small body against mine, her lips roaming frantically over the exposed skin of my bare chest. My own breath grew thin as liquid fire swept over me, prodded by her velvet lips and hot tongue against my flesh. I could not stand this much longer…
Suddenly, I reached out and grabbed her forearms tightly, then spun her around to press her up against the stone wall. Christine stared up at me, her wide eyes filled with a burning desire and a pleading for me to fulfill it. Roughly, I grasped the back of her thigh and pulled it against my straining midsection. "You play with fire, Mademoiselle," I whispered huskily as she collapsed into my shoulder, panting. I buried my face in her neck, trying desperately to catch my breath. She clung to me tightly, her fingernails digging into the skin of my shoulder blades.
"Erik," she breathed into my collar bone. "Erik, please…"
I squeezed my eyes shut; they burned with unshed tears as I cursed myself under my breath. I could not do this. Desires of my body be damned— I could not go through with this. This little game was not supposed to have spiraled so out of control…
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I pulled back just far enough to look deeply into her eyes. She was frightened… but no longer a child. She stood before me a grown woman, and an undeniably beautiful one, begging me to take the last scraps of her innocence, torn away in the writhing sheets of passion. My own body begged to comply, ached to find release from years of solitude in her perfect form, but a bleeding pang in my heart slowly but surely began to drown out the demands of my straining trousers.
I cupped her chin gently with my fingertips, and brought my lips down to her pale forehead reverently, as a father would kiss a beloved child. I could almost see the thankful smile of Gustave Daaé shining out from her heartbroken eyes. Christine's father had promised to send her an Angel of Music… a guide and a guardian. Yet it was not an angel who stood before her, aching for her flesh, but a man. If I was to take her, here and now, as she begged of me, what would I be to her but a mortal? Just another man, struck by her beauty and poise and compassion… just another lover…
Just like Raoul de Chagny.
My heart clenched at the unbidden thought. It was true… so horribly true. If I did what she asked, if I gave in to her, she would finally know the truth, know that I was merely human, merely a broken man, cast from society, doomed to reign in solitude until her beautiful, radiant light drew me from darkness. And what did I have to offer her that other men did not?
Nothing.
She would never choose me. Not over the vicomte, with his handsome face and large estate and the promise of a future in the society of the elite. Why in God's name would she choose me and my life of music in the sewers of the Opera, with Raoul there to offer her everything she'd ever dreamed of?
The answer was simple. She wouldn't.
My eyes flooded with tears as I stared down at her, my eyes begging for her to understand. But she didn't—how could she? Her face twisted in remorse and pain, her lower lip trembling as she looked away.
Christine, Christine, I sang mournfully to her, my voice broken with tears. Couldn't she see that I wanted this, needed this as much as she did? It took every last fiber of will power to allow her to slip from my arms in that moment. I did not try to explain, to stop her… what could I have said? That I had lied to her all of these years, that I was no more of an angel than Piangi, Firmin or that damned vicomte of hers?
I watched her go helplessly. She stormed over to the boat and began to untie it from the dock. She stepped gingerly into it, grabbing the oar, trying desperately to hide her tears from me. Meanwhile, I collapsed into the wall and sunk down to the floor, my heart broken and my conscience clear.
Christine's hands trembled on the oar as she paddled away, her breathing sharp as she attempted unsuccessfully to stifle her sobs of rage and despair. She paused at the grate, but I had already crawled over to the lever, pulling it for her as a single tear escaped down my marred cheek. Her eyes locked with mine for a moment before she pursed her lips, scowling down at me through her tears.
"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, mon ange," she spat before turning away. She did not look back.
It was the last time I laid eyes on her in two and a half months.
A/N: -peers around, wondering at your reactions- These should be interesting reviews… haha. Something tells me I'll have a very mixed reaction –glances at a certain someone who knows who she is- but I must say, I'm rather pleased with this chappie. I've never written anything quite so sensual before, so I'd very much like feedback, good or bad. Thanks in advance!
Venus725: -shakes head- Well, I'm glad you liked it anyways. I just thought the first version sounded way too much like a girl with terrible PMS. –shrugs- Hope I didn't butcher this chapter too badly; I know how you like "well written seduction." LOL.
Hriviel: Aww, Erik WOULD cry at a movie like Edward Scissorhands. –swoons- Johnny Depp… ahh, very hot. Very hot, indeed. –winks- I can't wait to write "Down Once More"… alas, several chapters left to go. –hurries- EVERYONE GO READ HER PHIC, "HAUNTED!" IT'S SO FREAKIN GOOD! (or should that be "phreakin"?)
Lady G: Yes, yes you did. –applauds your effort- But please be nice on Erik… he did the right thing in this chapter, no? I was on the verge… as I wrote it, I really couldn't decide whether or not he would just go through with it… could have tied in a nice little line about them having past the point of no return… -sigh- Ah well. –dangles Raoul over your head tantalizingly- Remember Monsieur le Vicomte while you review! LOL.
Sakume: Yeah, she DOES! So I tormented her in this chapter… mwahaha! It was great fun making her writhe in his grasp. –cackles evilly- Evil? YOU? Noooo! You're my nice, sweet reviewer! –sigh- Poor Erik, indeed. And, I'm afraid, it only gets worse from here.
Shadow Fox Forever: I know, it had to wait a chapter. Sorry, but here it is! Christine torture to the MAX! I mean, what could be worse than being seduced by the extremely sexy Erik and then being left unsatisfied at the last moment? NOTHING! Bwahaha!
Joanieponytail: EW, R/C sexual content? –shakes head vigorously- NEVER! Not in this story, hon. LOL. Unfortunately, I'd be straying away from the storyline if Erik got to tell his side of the Buquet incident… because if Christine knew what really happened instead of what Raoul feeds her, I believe she'd stay with Erik at the end. And we all know that doesn't happen. –mumbles about her being a two timing little !#$- Thank you… I appreciate the encouragement more than I can say. –smiles-
StrangeGirl: Oh, GOOD, there are other Christine haters out there! Haha… naw, I've had my little fun Christine torture session, so I'm over it. Kinda. Tee hee. Thanks so much… -drags you up- No bowing down! I don't deserve it… I can't believe you guys actually like this story… haha… I think it's terrible! I'd be flaming myself if I could! LOL. –shakes head in disbelief-
Noni-Noelle: -YAY!- LOL… That. Was. THE. Best. Review. EVER! See? SOMEONE dares to flame me… kinda. Sorta. But not. –waves fist- Just COULDN'T stand to leave out the compliments, could you, my dear? –huggles- Ah well, can't stay mad at you for more than two seconds. A –cookie- for your first review!
Opal Gimstone: You DO make me laugh, and I appreciate it. The world needs more funny people like you. –a cookie for your effort- Yeah, I know a few girls who break guys' hearts like that too… get my maternal instincts raging. –snorts- YES, I was so excited I got to see it again! I know a girl who saw it eight times… -shakes head- Craziness. No, May 3rd cannot possibly come soon enough! –glances at clock impatiently- 22 DAYS!
Thank you all so much for the continued reviews! –wraps you all in a big hug-