I hadn't planned on continuing this, but eventually -- over the course of a year or so -- I'd kept writing, adding to it, late at night. Le enjoy.
not the same place we've been before
"What demon!"
This was not the death I had hoped for.
"What succubus, .." Some masculine voice was sobbing beautifully, strong cold hands shaking me, jarring me violently.
So Hell was my final destination after all; I opened my eyes.
Where was the brimstone and fire? It was dark, except for a flash of gold in front of me; expressioned yellow that widened with emotion.
"O God!" All at once I was gathered toward something firm, arms spilling around me and hugging me close. "O God," came the voice again; strained, breathless and vague. "Christine, .."
Familiarity reigned supreme. That voice! That voice, as surely as the nights it had caressed the deepest parts of my ear, my mind, my soul-- I know that voice. My cheeks were warm. "Erik----"
"I thought you were dead."
This place smelled like death, desire and music. He was still warm and how hadn't I felt that? How hadn't I known? I said his name, the prayer that would chase away some lingering nightmare. He shuddered against me.
"You were so still," an angel's voice was hidden in this quiet, subdued rasp. "Child, your little hands were so still." Was that his grip in my hair, his chest against mine? We were both breathing so deep. I felt like I was still falling, funneling down, ..
It was a long moment of him just touching, caressing, reassuring, his body pressing against me in a way that was suddenly very normal, something that seemed we'd done every day. In the quiet, in the drawn out silence, I heard him whisper against my scalp -- his breath cool and wayward -- "Did I hurt you, Christine?"
I was afraid. My surroundings filtered in -- we were so close to a coffin, so close to his eternal bed. A simple shake of my head seemed impossible, a somber no so difficult. It was suddenly too easy to cry.
And in his arms, that was exactly what I did.
