This was her favorite position: lying down, face up, his body tucked between her legs, bucking to and fro, edging her steadily towards euphoria. The bed frame creaked in tandem with his hips, his breathing labored and coming out in small, heated bursts by her ear.

It had already been the best day she'd had in a long time. It was a surprise that he even suggested they go out and spend an evening together.

I don't really have anything nice to wear, she texted back in response to his proposition. I really want to go, she added hastily, afraid he might assume she was trying to avoid going out with him, I just don't have a nice dress. I want to look pretty for you.

You always look pretty, he replied almost instantly.

Her heart thumped at that little four-worded message, and she read it several times over, the grin on her face growing with every pass of her eyes.

But a beautiful girl deserves a beautiful dress. Maybe I could pick you up earlier and take you somewhere you may find something?

Her toes curled at the idea: almost an entire day with him. Not an hour-long lesson in the drawing room or a twenty-minute make-out-and-make-love session. An entire afternoon and evening with him. In public. Like an actual couple.

Yes.

He honestly wouldn't have suggested it. It wasn't like the thought never crossed his mind, it did constantly. Him and Christine, an actual couple. They'd look just like everyone else walking hand-in-hand down the street. Except… not.

That's what kept him away so much. He could steal her for an evening, take her someplace nice, dance, make love and get her back home before dawn, but only if he could be normal. If he could be the man she truly deserved—someone handsome, someone who could take her out to nice places and shower her with love, someone who wouldn't earn her odd glances from strangers—maybe then he could love her just as he wished to.

Mamma had been the one to change his mind. The evening she'd found out that there was something a little more between them, something a little more than teacher and student; after making love to Christine and leading her back out of the drawing room towards the piano; after he'd escorted her back to bed, tucked her in and kissed her goodnight, Mamma had sat him down at the dinner table to talk.

He told her how long they'd been together, that he was in love with her, that he was happy with her and that he hoped she was happy with him just as she always appeared to be.

Mamma seemed upset. She averted her eyes after he'd answered all her questions, focusing on a particular spot in the carpet by her feet.

"I'm sorry, madame," he apologized after an extended period of silence. "It was rude of me to entertain a relationship with Christine without your knowing. I hope you know that I never intended to overstep my boundaries as her teacher and that I never took advantage of her in any form, or at least never meant to if I had."

He had Mamma Valerius' full, unwavering gaze now—practically unreadable as it had been all evening.

"I don't regret anything we've shared and I'd like to continue a relationship with her, but if you do not wish it-"

"I want you to stay with her."

Erik had almost missed her comment, caught up in his own haze of an apology.

"If she is happy with you," Mamma continued, "I want you to be with her as often as possible."

Erik felt his heart lift with every note of Mamma's voice, a wonderful melody in spite of its lack for an actual harmony.

"I just ask that you take her out. She's practically holed herself up in this house since her father's passing. Some days its been hard just getting her to run a few errands with me."

Erik froze still. His love for this girl was endless. He desired doing so much with her; every day he envisioned them going to places and doing things other couples did. He saw them at the movies, visiting art museums, going for walks in the park and exchanging their theories for human existence. He dashed himself for being such a hopeless romantic, getting giddy even at the idea of holding her hand, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to do everything with her that he'd never had an ounce of courage to do on his own. Yet still.

"Madame, I…" Erik swallowed down the knot that was threatening to clog his throat. "I love Christine and I want to give her everything I can. It's just…" He reached his hand to his mask without finishing his sentence.

Mamma's shoulders slumped in disappointment and an air of uncertain silence passed between them.

"I need you to be brave for her then."

Erik straightened his posture as Mamma did and a tense wiriness returned to his frame. He nodded understandingly, noting the hard edge in her eyes.

"Erik."

He was close, so close to the horizon. He was ready to give in.

"Erik," Christine cried louder. His mind registered the concern laced in her voice and he pulled back, slipping out of her and lifting his face to hers.

"What's wrong?" he asked, acknowledging her tightly knit brows.

He watched her tongue dart out for a quick second, moistening her lips before she swallowed to steel herself. "Can you…" her voice trailed off and her eyes blinked away from his and to the labored rising of his chest.

"What is it, my dear?" He tried making himself sound as confident as possible though he felt uneasy. He'd never seen her so horribly discontent. It worried him that what he was doing was no longer good enough, that he was no longer good enough to satisfy her.

"Can you take off your mask?"

Her request was so innocent it broke his heart. He knew it had been coming, in fact, had been long overdue.

Her eyes darted back to his when he did not speak or move, concerned he might not have heard her request at all. But the look in his eyes confessed otherwise, and her heart broke.

"I'm sorry," she apologized swiftly and breathlessly. "I shouldn't have-"

"No."

Christine paused, not breathing as his voice cut her off sharply. Even beneath the mask, she could see the firmness set in his jaw.

"You shouldn't have." He eased his tone, and his shoulders trembled as he tried to relax himself. "But I love you too much," he continued, "and I cannot deny you this as much as I want to."

Her heart twisted as tears began forming in his eyes. She thought she might just cry as well. She wasn't sure if this was any better; if she wished he would've just yelled at her and taken her home.

"I just ask that you close your eyes, Christine. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded and closed her eyes. She felt his body's warmth descend down between her legs; felt his arm move as he removed his mask; felt his breath brush through and against her curls, his mouth undeniably close.

She gasped inaudibly when his tongue finally joined her core, slowly lapping up the pleasure from their earlier efforts, dancing over and around and between her folds, occasionally darting to that sweet, sensitive little bead that made her squirm and squeal.

The abrasiveness that had once been his mask was now replaced with a soft, uneven texture, the cool tip of his mask's nose pressed into her flesh now absent. She wanted so desperately to open her eyes and steal a peek at the true man she'd come to love, but she could not take it upon herself to disrespect him so. She could not live with herself if she did. Not now at least.

He was surprised to lose himself in the thrill of it all; the vulnerableness and the cries of pure, unfiltered pleasure were enough for even him to give in and so he groaned with her, spending himself as she did.

He covered themselves in the bundle of blankets, turning her over and tucking his face into the back of her hair after they'd recovered from the height of their orgasms, the reality of the world returning to them after a blaze of blank, white light.

"I love you too, Christine."