Another very short E/C bite.
Erik's POV – Coney Island
I could feel the anger building inside me. My pacing was becoming volatile and I knew if one more person knocked on my door to ask me any sort of question about the rides or the production, I would snap.
This strange world, here on Coney, to which I had become the unwilling king, was sucking every morsel of imagination from me. Nothing seemed to be enough and I was driving myself to the breaking point. I needed solitude and peace to let my mind soar, but lately I was lucky if I got two minutes to myself.
I paused to take a deep breath and attempt to unclench my fists. I needed release. I needed…music.
No one would dare interrupt me in my music room.
My feet hastened me to the piano and I sat with a sigh of relief. My fingers floated over the keys for a moment, relishing the silence around me, before I madly took out my violent emotions on the piano keys. Music flowed from within my heart to pound itself out in a loud, strange, discordant melody. I was merciless with my fingers. They were forced to roughly play on, as I became lost in the eerie turbulence of my heartfelt music. The switch in my mind had been thrown and I was enraptured with song, making love to the notes, and as always happened, She came to me.
Not a word was said as she touched my arm and the keys fell into silence. I looked up into those eyes, those powerfully hypnotic eyes and her hand traced down to my fingers and she tugged lightly for me to come with her.
"Christine?" I was unsure as to her motive, but I was not strong enough to resist my muse. I had never been strong enough to resist her. She pulled me from the piano bench, leading me back towards the bedroom. My heart began to pound as it always did when she looked at me with this expression on her smooth perfect face. "It is not time for bed." I teased, with a lump in my throat, into the oppressive silence as she knelt on the bedding and pulled me to follow. Her arm draped around my neck and her lips landed over mine, urgent, yet still innocent. A groan emitted from my mouth as I pulled her closer. "Christine..."
Her hands quickly divested me of my shirt and those soft beautiful fingers darted over my chest, touching every bit of skin. I shuddered beneath her commanding touch. She seemed to possess a direct link to my fantasies. She knew precisely what I needed and wanted. She had listened to my music and felt me crying out for completion. I held her close as my arousal grew painfully. I wanted to tear her clothing to see golden flesh, but things were usually better when our clothes remained on. Her hands meticulously unraveled the ties of my pants and her cold fingers slid over my erection. My legs trembled with anticipation and I pushed her down to the bed. She bent back at the uncomfortable angle for a second before straightening her body beneath me and taking me in her embrace. Her body undulated in a smooth motion, begging for love, and I let my hands roam over the silky fabric of her dress to cup her breasts, her waist, her hips and thigh. Her hand traced the contours of my chest, as if asking permission, before dipping below my pants line and encircling my swollen cock. As she wrapped her strong fingers around me, she brought our lips together and began stroking.
I bucked in her embrace, ravenous for her love. How was I to live without this? I would have shriveled into madness if expected to go without this release. My hands delved into her hair as I buried my face in her neck and proceeded to fuck her hand.
My goddess stroked me perfectly; pressing her ripe body against me, trailing her free hand down my back in precise, even adoration. I was so close...I held her tight against me and remembered when her flesh was warm and willing that night beneath a moonless sky. My blissful moment ruptured through me and I wanted to cry out her name in remembered rapture...
My imagination had her whispering my name in my ear...
I panted into the flawless curve of her neck and her hands gentled me, as they always did. Her chest did not rise and fall as rapidly as mine and I pulled away quickly, as I always did. This was the strange part. I stood and replaced my shirt as I gazed down at the perfect replica of Christine laying in my bed.
"I love you, Christine." I told the machine and could swear the robot's eyes glistened with affection. She never spoke. She was not programmed to speak. Any mechanical representation of Christine's bell like voice would just shatter the illusion for me. But the Christine doll did smile at me in a very adoring way, and it was enough.
For now . . .
~Inspired by events from Love Never Dies~