Sensuality warning.

Noir

The oil lamp on the vanity sputtered and hissed as the last of the fuel burned away. Within minutes the room would go dark. There would be no Phantom and no Goddess, only a man and a woman together in the night.

The Goddess listened to his harsh breaths. Erik sat rigid on the floor with his head turned to the side. He became a statue beneath The Goddess as she sighed against his face. Her lips brushed against the corner of his mouth as her hands slid up his chest to his neck.

"I am your past, your present, and your future," she whispered. "I am your dark Goddess, your wish and your despair."

He would not refuse her. The Goddess knew her control over him was infinite. He had fallen, an angel without wings plummeting to the deepest, darkest hole in the earth.

"I can destroy you," The Goddess said to him. Her tongue flicked out and tasted his lips. "You are a slave to me, a creature lacking power, lacking strength. You are nothing to my eyes."

He nodded slowly and stared at the floor. The Goddess stroked the mask covering the right side of his face and watched as his eyes closed. She felt his thigh tense between her legs, a reaction built on want and warning. The Goddess braced herself against him as she rested her hand on his inner thigh. She exhaled against the cool leather surface as she felt his undeniable interest in her against her knuckles.

"Impressive," she whispered as she traced the outer edge of the mask with her index finger. "I will know what hides beneath. Will you deny me?"

"I came for your voice," he whispered. She felt him squirm beneath her.

"You heard me sing. Now it is my turn to have what I desire." The Goddess left her hands between his legs and felt him move against her feathery caress. She knew his control waned, the concrete barriers suddenly filled with spidery cracks. He would give into her. He would crawl upon his knees before her and beg for mercy and fulfillment.

"Has any woman ever had the strength to touch you?"

He gasped at her touch. She knew her persistence created an overwhelming coil of pleasure. For a moment he sat very still and held his breath, waiting for what he had deprived himself of for so long.

The Goddess knew no woman would have him. On the night he first came to her, she had seen the girls walking the street backing away from him and the bone white death's head. They had made the sign of the cross and cursed at him. No matter how much he could pay for an evening none would accept his offer. Even street whores had standards.

But he had not offered any of them his money. He had come to her as she sat in the window and watched men with downcast eyes walk beside women who pretended to be proud. She had known he would come to her.

She had always known his feelings for her.

The Goddess pulled her hand away before his built-up desire could be released into fulfillment. With a jolt he exhaled and turned away, humiliated by his need. She had given him a taste of what pleasures he had never known.

"You have no self-control," she mocked.

Erik made no reply. He only pulled farther away from the soft fingers that traced the bruises on his neck. "Don't touch me," he pleaded.

"Words from you mean nothing to me. Look at me," she demanded. He obeyed without hesitation. "How else can I destroy you?"

His gaze turned away from hers but she forced his chin up. Understanding flickered in his eyes.

"How much farther can you fall from the human race? Answer me."

"I'm not part of the human race."

"What are you?"

"I don't know."

The Goddess narrowed her painted eyes. "If I ask something of you, would you do it?"

Erik hesitated. His lips parted, mouth trembling as he considered his answer. With great reluctance he nodded.

"Anything?" The Goddess asked.

"Yes," he exhaled.

The Goddess ran her tongue along the right side of his neck, the side of his throat that had not been bruised. "Tell me, are you still a Catholic?"

Erik hesitated, looked away then slowly nodded.

"What sort of God-fearing man comes to a whore?"

"You're…you're not that to me."

"Not what?"

He shook his head.

"Say it," she demanded.

"You're not…a…you're not a woman of the night."

The Goddess snickered and narrowed her black eyes. "You cannot even bring yourself to say it, can you?" She studied him carefully, watching as he struggled to find something to focus on while he waited in silence.

"If I require self-murder you will spend an eternity in Hell. Is that what you want?"

He made no reply. He sat perfectly still, his eyes turning glassy.

The Goddess raised her hand as though she would strike him. "Is that what you want?"

"No."

"Because you fear death or because you fear the severity of your penance?"

He hesitated. "Do you want me to kill myself? Is that what you ask of me, Goddess?" his voice came out trembling, melding an indiscernible mixture of fear and frustration.

"It doesn't matter. Your sniveling words spoil my fun. Your life means nothing to me. Do you think, after all you have done, you will ever find forgiveness, Phantom? Have you done anything to redeem yourself from an eternity of burning in Hell?"

Erik shuddered. She saw his jaw tighten and knew he feared death, feared time without end and infinite suffering.

"You know my past," he muttered. "There is nothing for me but damnation."

"And what about life?"

"This isn't life," he breathed.

"Then what is there in store for you?"

He shook his head again.

"There is more than one option, more than one answer. You of all people know that Fate was not one destiny but a set of fickle twins. Now look at me when I speak to you or I shall dismiss you into the streets like the refuse you are. Do you trust me?" The Goddess asked.

His eyes searched her face for only a heartbeat. "Yes," he answered.

The Goddess smiled at his lack of hesitation. "Good. Because I know the two paths of your future, and I will pick the one I deem fitting for a wretch like you."

Erik looked at The Goddess again, his eyes widening. She saw him swallow hard and force a nod. He was a willing listener who would do anything she asked of him. He had no choice, no spirit.

The Goddess rose to her feet and walked away from him. "I tire of this place. Stand."

She folded her arms and watched as Erik struggled to his feet. He wrung his hands and looked away from her. The oil lamp gave one final hiss and the room darkened, making The Goddess acutely aware of his harsh breaths.

The Goddess and The Phantom became shadows, one a dark form gliding in the night, one a reluctant sentinel standing before a deity. The Goddess found his shoulder first, then his bruised neck, which caused his body to tense when she touched his tender flesh. With a ragged breath he attempted to protest her hand sliding around his back.

"Trust me," she hissed. "Or I will choose the path you fear."

His arms dropped to his sides though he remained a rigid shadow before her eyes. The Goddess stepped nearer and placed one hand against the right side of his face, the other on the left side. She heard him utter a soft prayer, a plea to a force he still believed in after all his years. It surprised her to hear him ask for mercy.

The Goddess closed her eyes in the darkness for a moment, loving yet dreading the way in which she would kill him. He was prepared, she knew, for this inevitable act of cruelty and compassion. It was why he had come to her. He wanted her to know him.

Her eyes opened in the blackness, eyelashes batting the collection of tears away. It was not as dark as it had first seemed. She could see the stark white of his maskand the unshaven, exposed side of his face. Silently he had begun to weep, and the first of many tears streaked down the left side of his face, following the curve of his nostril down to his lip where it hung at the corner, trembling with his harsh breaths.

The Goddess braced herself. She held her breath as her fingers clung to the edges and pulled the mask away.

The moment the mask was removed, Erik began to turn away and cover his face but The Goddess stopped him. If he had wanted to pull free of her he could have. He could have overpowered her at any point, but he did not. He was an obedient, fearful servant.

He would not harm her, she knew. Someplace deep inside, hidden in a cavern filled with wickedness, there was still compassion within him. The man who had lived fifteen years ago still existed, still hid behind the man he had become—or who he had attempted to be.

"Trust me," she said again.

Her hand rested on his monstrous face, over the ravaged plane he had kept hidden. His jaw tightened, his green eyes turning wild with fear. The Goddess stepped in closer still until their bodies met, until she felt the rise and fall of his chest through her clothing.

Her fingertips moved down his jaw line, tracing the scarred flesh. His right eye appeared larger than the left, the skin beneath his lower lashes slightly ridged like a candle where the wax has melted and dried into lumps.

While her eyes remained locked on his she touched his brow, seeing him silently plead her to stop. No one had touched the scars. No one had come near him. He wanted acceptance but feared closeness, feared rejection that came with his appearance.

"Does it hurt when I touch your face?" she asked, her voice strong, fearless.

He hesitated then lightly shook his head. The Goddess narrowed her eyes, searching his face still. Around his nose the skin felt thinner, stretched tighter. When she touched him he winced but said nothing, fearing protest would lead to solitude.

"Do you give in to me freely?"

"Yes."

"You do so knowing that if I will it, you shall die?"

"Yes."

"You sacrifice yourself to me?"

His tears flowed freely, leaving glistening wet tracks on his ruined and acceptable flesh.

"Do you sacrifice yourself to me? Answer me at once or you shall leave my dark kingdom, you filthy wretch."

"I will do anything. Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me now." He sobbed and spoke her name, her given name. "Not now."

He started to kneel before her but The Goddess took his arm and kept him from falling at her feet. "I demand a sacrifice, not groveling. You needn't beg me for forgiveness."

"I apologize," he said, his head bowed until his chin touched his chest. "For what I did to you long ago, I apologize. I wish I had done more for you. I wish…"

Gingerly Erik reached out and grasped her thin shoulder, seeming surprised when she didn't pull away. He exhaled as she stepped nearer and placed his free hand against her hip. Almost immediately he locked his arms around her waist with such force that The Goddess could barely breath. She felt his body tremor and knew it had been the first time in too many years that someone had touched him, had held him the way he needed to be held, to be accepted. He apologized for his actions and loosened his grip on her, avoiding her eye, fearful of retribution, afraid she would abandon him.

He had lost more weight than she had first realized. Holding him was like embracing a skeleton. He had punished himself severely for what had happened within the opera house, for the obsession that had clouded his mind, for the needs that had replaced a young girl in India.

The Goddess had seen Christine Daae. She had found similarities between the talented singer and the half-Indian, half-European girl who had loved him long ago. It was a compliment, The Goddess mused, a strange tribute to the young woman he would never see again.

"I didn't know what to do until I saw you," he said quietly. "I didn't know where to go until I saw you in the window."

The Goddess bit down hard on her bottom lip, creating a new pain to dull the one she felt for him. He was lost, in every way a man could find himself unraveled—physically, emotionally, mentally he was bruised, maimed, tormented beyond her comprehension.

He had only existed in memory and secret desires, in little fragments of dreams and regrets. For years there had been no trace of Erik. He was only a name, a whispered entity, a frightful creature. He had disappeared from the world.

The Goddess stepped in closer and closed her eyes. "There is a difference between the world causing pain and creating your own suffering," The Goddess said as she rested her cheek against his shoulder. Her hand remained against his face and she felt him nod. His grip on her loosened until his hands merely rested on her sides.

"The difference is in your heart and mind. Both are still strong. You have faded only in your presence within the world. You did not exist to me."

"Please—"

The Goddess pressed her fingers to his lips. "As a Phantom you did not exist to me. But I see you as clearly as I did those days by the Hughli River. The man who spared the life of an animal, a man who protected a silly child and sang to her in a flower, does he still exist?"

He nodded but didn't speak.

"I never knew the Phantom," she said. "I knew Erik, and I want to see him again. Come with me," she said as she took his hand. "It is time I took you home."

"Home?"

"You are not the only master of deception." She turned away from him a moment and smiled to herself. A dream could be rebuilt, a man resurrected. "This is not the home of a Goddess, Erik. I deserve a palace." She gave a wan smile.