I apologize in advance, Dears. You may see some grammatical errors in this chapter despite my best efforts. Work has been crushing me and I'm struggling to focus on anything else. I hope it won't take the enjoyment out of this *cough* warm chapter.


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Christine took her time, slowly uncovering his body, reveling in every sharp line and lean expanse of muscle she laid bare. It was an indulgence she would deny herself no longer, even though her body was hungry for his. She kissed the calloused skin between his finger and thumb as she unbuttoned his sleeves.

The candlelight cast an eerie yellow glow on him, so different from the moonlight of before. It was different but made the man no less beautiful. When had he become beautiful to her? Christine tried to remember, but in her hunger found only the vague and then assured sense of want in her memories. She trailed her fingers across his frowning lips, "What is this for? There was just as much light in the practice rooms." At the reminder of their first carnal encounter, his eyes smoldered, some of his hesitancy lost.

The hands that graced her body did so loosely, unsure where to touch her, afraid his want would break her. She bit back her smile at the thought. She grazed her fingers down the center of his chest. The tips ebbed and rolled against scars long healed. "There is nothing handsome under these clothes, Christine," his voice caught on the confession.

She playfully kissed the edge of his lower lip and unbuttoned her own shirt. "Maybe I want to see all of you. Maybe I like seeing your skin against mine." She was thankful for the ease of men's clothing. With the tug of a few mere buttons, she had her Phantom distracted with her own level of undress. By the end of the night, Erik would never question her desire for him again. "Your mask hides the very real perfection of your smile. What other wonders will I find when I see all of you?"

Her fingers itched to remove his mask. "You know very well I have no physical perfection." She trailed kisses at the edge of his hidden mouth.

"Your definition of perfection is very narrow then. Your voice is perfect. This here –" Christine nipped at the small dimple formed by the movement of his mouth, "is perfect. Your hands…" She set them firmly around her waist, "now they are unparalleled perfection." She playfully nipped his lower lip between her teeth. "It's been countless nights of want, Erik. And there's the bed. Don't you dare deny—"

"You know I can deny you nothing." She let his hands take over pulling the shirt from her body and pressed wet kisses along his neck. His thundering heart vibrated in his bones. Christine let her smiling lips linger on his skin, enjoying the shudder it drew from him.

Unable to stand the sweet teasing any longer, Erik buried his fingers in her hair and pulled her mouth to his. Unlike their first night together, Christine let him set the pace, responding with hungry strokes. They broke apart with a moan in both their throats.

"Tell me a secret," she begged. The night was long, and she intended to go slow with him. What could she get him to confess in these heated moments?

She wanted everything in him.

Christine tugged at his mask, eliciting a struggled laugh. "I told you. I cannot kiss you properly with your mask on," she danced teasing kisses along his puffy lower lip, attempting to prove her point.

Erik straightened and replaced Christine's hands at the fastenings, "I didn't believe you before, but now I do."

"That is not a secret."

"Yes," he teased her already swollen lips, "it is." He kissed her again, deeply, unhindered by the porcelain mask, and lifted her in his arms.

Christine felt his desire hard and hot against her. When she rocked her hips against his, desperate to relieve her own building pressure, and he burrowed harder against her, falling to the soft bed.

Her hands immediately found the buttons of his trousers. "Now tell me a secret," he whispered against her cheek.

His demand twisted every ache of want tighter within her. That was his beauty: his ravenous eagerness, his demand of equality with her. His soul made him beautiful where his skin could not. Yet under his scars and malformations set clean lines and pale skin. As in everything, all of him was both beautiful and monstrous. But that was not right. It was not right to call him monstrous anymore.

"Christine," he sang low into her ear, "a secret."

There were so many. How to pick just one? He helped her with the final buttons and groaned when she took him in her hands. He was so very hard. And warm. Christine tugged lightly on him and his hips began a needy motion for her.

A half-truth, she thought. She spoke softly against his mangled cheek, "I've dreamed about you every night since coming here and not a single one has come close to what I feel when you touch me."

The whole truth was that she'd dreamed of him nearly every night since his supposed death.

At her confession, Erik burst into movement, ridding them both of the rest of their clothing and gathering her up tightly in his embrace. "And what do you feel when I touch you?"

She rocked her hips and shivered at the pleasure of him sliding through her folds. It was too much power to give him – telling him the truth, but she would. How could she not? "Like I'm finally whole." His kissed her temple and settled himself at her entrance. "Like the world is right."

He began his slow press into her, the ache in her core clenched desperately for the fullness of him inside her. "Like I'm dying of thirst and you've brought me the cleanest, coldest water in heaven to drink my fill."

His mouth captured hers in a devastating kiss and when he was finally, fully seated in her, he spoke into her mouth, "I love you."

It was not a slow seduction. They burned too hot for that. Erik began his thrusts, sure and forceful. The slide of him inside her spread through every nerve in her body until she could only cling to him and gasp, her hips rising to meet him each time.

This is what she had always wanted. This is what her body knew he could pull from her. Their untamable connection condensed between them, turning into a wild, deep river they willingly downed in.

Christine looked into Erik's eyes and found no expectation there, no pride. She saw a man as enthrall to the passion as she was, hungry for their mutual release. He could feel it too – the unparalleled connection, their souls laid equal. "Has it ever been like this?" he questioned.

His hands worshiped her body, reverently stroking her skin, sending fissures along her veins.

"Never." The pleasure built inside her, feeding off itself until her climax became an undeniable inevitability. The force of their movements had driven them to the top of the bed. Christine's head sunk into the pillows and Erik tossed them off of her with disgust. He wanted to see her. Every second of her pleasure. Pleasure he commanded. He settled more heavily on top of her, his arms caging her head and slowed his pace.

Christine whimpered, "Faster, Erik. I need you."

He worked his tongue into her mouth and grabbed her hip with his hand, coaxing a demanding roll of them in time with his own movements. "You have me."

At the new angle, it was his turn to moan. And that sound strummed every fiber in her already aching being. He thrust harder and found a new spot deep in her core. The pleasure crested throughout her body and stole the voice from her throat.

He repeated the motion and her muscles clenched on him hard. "Are you sure you want faster?"

She wasn't any more. The pleasure was so sharp and so close, Christine thought she might die at the break of it. Still, her hands clawed low on his back, urging his actions. He sucked on her hard nipple and began a relentless pace.

It was too much. Too aching a pleasure. Too much of him. Too much love. His name broke on her lips as her orgasm pulsed through her, cresting in frenzied wave after wave of unabated pleasure.

Erik followed a single thrust after, his voice roaring in her ears as he shuddered inside her, relenting to his own fevered release. For the second time tonight Christine bound herself to him – wordless vows etched with her lips along his skin. You are mine and I am yours. You are mine, my love. And I will never release you. You are mine.

Their chests heaved against each other, shivers racking their over-sensitized flesh. He did not rise from her and leaned heavily on his arms so he did not crush her. Christine was content to lay under him, still joined, dancing wet kisses along his chin until morning.

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The candles had all but burnt to nubs by the time Erik finally let Christine rest for the night, the fire nothing but cinders in the grate. He rose from her for only a moment to let in the cold night air. Christine shivered at the first kiss of the chill and burrowed deep into Erik's arms when he returned to her.

They lingered between wakefulness and sleep, drawing gentle circles on each other's damp skin. Christine marveled at the contented stillness of her heart. Never had she felt so at peace. She closed her eyes and listened to the strange beat of Erik's own heart and lost herself in the steady ebb and flow of his breathing.

She didn't hear him when he asked her, "Do you prefer my bed to the hotel's?"

"Hmmm?"

"The bed. Is it more comfortable than the Hotel American?"

"Everything in this room is more comfortable than the Hotel American." His chest rumbled with a halfhearted laugh. "Though they did have the most delicious croissant." Erik wove his fingers throughout her hair, the tips of them gently dancing along her skin. He brought their entwined hands to his lips.

"What is it like? In town?"

"Small. Providential. Though I'm never quite sure. There are always so many people coming and going, it is hard to tell." She struggled to wake from her halfhearted slumber.

"And the Cummings? What were they like at your fine dinners?"

"You're a mystery to them, you know. With all your elegant airs." She pressed her smiling lips against his chest.

"I've always wondered what dinning with the very rich would be like."

Christine was taken aback. She'd forgotten such parts of society were forbidden to him. What a loss for the rich. "Have you ever met Mary and her husband?"

"A few times. One must make appearances. But I'm never proper company for dinner parties, even if invited." So he'd isolated himself. "Tell me about the last one you'd gone to."

"They're really very dull."

"I'm sure that's true. But I'd like to hear about it nonetheless." He did enjoy descriptions of the mundane. It was as though anything truly domestic was foreign to him, and he listened as intently as a child listening to a wild adventure.

"It was before your broken leg. We had roast chicken. We discussed the new fabrics that had arrived from Philadelphia. Mr. Cummings' and Porter discussed a new cigar factory starting in Lancaster. And something about a steel mill in piston..pitsville…"

"Pittsburgh."

"Yes. That was it. As you can see, the evenings are riveting. I think we had sorbet for dessert. Most nights they ask me to sing a song or two. And I agree out of sheer boredom. Only in English, mind you. Then they ask me to tell them all about you." She knew his eyebrows rose in interest. "Don't worry. I kept you very mysterious."

"And what did the Cummings say about the steel mill?"

"In Pittsburgh?" Christine thought back, trying to remember what exactly had sparked her annoyance during that conversation for her to even remember it. "It was something about the water around the city and Phantasma. Something about underwater railways. That's what it was. That they would finally beat you at your own game with unrustable steel." She yawned as pale sunlight began to filter in through the window.

"Unrustable. What nonsense."

"But I remember that statement nettled me. You unable to do something. It's offensive really."

He kissed the crown of her head, "Willing to defend my honor, my love?" She smiled at the endearment and rose to kiss his lips in the darkness. Every time he spoke the words aloud the coil binding them together wound tighter and Christine marveled at its increasing intensity within her, unwilling to ever let it go.

She drifted to sleep in the early morning light, Erik humming a melody softly in her ear.