Rose17
The heavens looked down upon them, the birds began to sing, and flowers burst into bloom at the sight of two lovers. Oh, what a glorious evening, incomparable to all others Erik had known before!
Caught up in the moment, Erik and Christine were oblivious to the world. They were too preoccupied with sucking face on a park bench in Paris to notice if France had started a revolution. This, as it so happened, was much better than a revolution. This was wild, passionate, feral, untamed and everything Erik had always imagined. This was why he had started composing Don Juan Triumphant...sans the arguing prior to Christine's mouth pressing to his.
Her tongue surged past his lips and the unexpected pleasantness caused him to grip the seat of the bench. This was no wilted little flower standing coyly by the wayside. This creature was a wild rose, petals fully opened and waiting to be stroked. Oh, how he wanted to stroke a velvety petal!
That was the only thought going through Erik's mind, other than Christine had her knee strategically placed between his legs and he was afraid to move. The woman could kick like a mule. He'd discovered that firsthand and didn't want to become reacquainted with her knee or foot anytime soon.
Pausing for a breath, they stared at one another, both attempting to catch their breath, neither of them knowing what to do other than going at it again.
"Wow," Christine sighed dreamily.
"Y-yes," Erik agreed. He couldn't bring himself to say wow. He really couldn't. There wasn't enough blood in his brain to form coherent sentences. Even if there had been enough blood in his brain, wow did not fit into his otherwise stern and frightful vocabulary.
"I feel like…a wildebeest," Christine cooed.
Erik's eyes grew wide. "Excuse me?" he stammered. The blood was returning to various other regions of his body now that his mind was on wildebeests.
"You are the mighty, virile lion and I am the frightened, unknowing but willing little wildebeest."
Erik furrowed his brow. "I don't understand. Why aren't you a lioness? Besides…actually, I believe it's the female lion that does most of the hunting."
"Oh, yes," Christine said with a seductive growl.
"Oh, yes…what?"
"I have no idea. But I think we should return to the opera house at once," Christine said. Her bosom rose and fell before Erik's eyes. It was mesmerizing and slowly erasing images of lions running down and ripping open wildebeests. "You haven't finished telling me about your life."
"Oh," Erik said under his breath. Apparently the moment of abandoning their senses and allowing their darker sides to finally have their way had ended abruptly.
"Surely that's not the end, is it?" Christine asked. She smoothed her dress as she sat down beside him.
"More or less."
"More, please," Christine said brightly.
Erik blinked at her. "That wasn't a choice."
"Excuse me?"
His eyes narrowed. "It's an expression."
Christine narrowed her eyes as well. "Yes, not a very comfortable one at that. But, as I was saying you must tell me more."
Exhaling, Erik gave up. "There is nothing else to tell, Christine. I am not an angel, which you realize now," he said remorsefully. "I'm not immortal, I'm not…" He stopped and shook his head. "I'm not anything."
They sat in silence for a while, Christine sitting with her arms crossed and Erik staring at his folded hands. His mood was so dismal that he was fairly certain he would never have an erection again.
"You should not have done what you just did," Erik said under his breath.
Christine either didn't hear him or chose to ignore his words. Placing one hand on his shoulder, she sat forward. "I know what you are," she said with a smile.
An extortionist, a liar, a thief, an abductor, Erik thought to himself. He looked at her and grunted.
"A musician, a wonderful singer, a most accomplished composer," she said, counting them on her fingers. "And now? A good kisser." Pressing her index finger to his lips, she stopped him from speaking before she was finished. "And the lion of my wildebeest dreams."
Throwing her arms around his neck, Christine hugged him tightly. Once she refused to let go and threatened instead to strangle him, Erik hugged her back. It was almost as pleasant as kissing.
Slowly and quite deftly, their close contact once again ignited undeniable feelings. Turning her face, Christine kissed him again and resumed her place with one leg between his. She started to run her hands through his hair, but Erik forced her to stop and trailed kisses along her throat and behind her ears.
Christine was the first to come to her senses. She sat on the bench beside him panting again, her bosom responding.
"Madame Giry never mentioned this part," Christine sighed. "But I do enjoy this part, Monsieur. Very much so."
Erik wasn't sure what she meant. "So do I," he said, rather than involve himself in another conversation where they were both discussing something else.
"We should return before these buds burst into bloom…before…these flames consume us!"
"You've read my entire opera!" Erik exclaimed quite pleasantly. The blood, which had returned to his feet and hands, doubled back to his groin in a triumphant parade dedicated to, well, Don Juan Triumphant.
"I have, Monsieur, and now I want to experience all of those gloriously hinted at experiences you've discovered and have decided to share with the aristocrats when they," she said, dramatically flinging her arms out and tossing her head back to shout, "Come and come and come by the droves!"
Erik sat speechless on the bench. His knees spread apart, his trousers noticeably tented even in darkness.
"Yes, Erik, they will come in the theater, all of them! And we will come onto the stage and give them a most titillating evening! You will fill the entire theater with the seed of your imagination."
"Uh—"
"But first!" Her voice lowered and she pointed her finger in Erik's face. "We must spend hours and hours practicing, enduring the plight of our chosen craft until it is a most exquisite display for all to see." She paused and allowed her words to linger. She was a born dramatic performer, Erik thought to himself. "We should begin immediately. I want you to show me everything you know."
"Everything?" Erik's throat suddenly seemed dry. He swallowed but it refused to go away. She wanted everything. From him.
Christine nodded. "Everything," she whispered. "You are the master and I am the willing slave of your genius, yours to command. When I read your opera, I knew it was true."
But it wasn't true. It was very much false in every possible way. Erik didn't know everything, at least not when it came to what she was referring to—which was a very big something to know absolutely nothing about. Once Erik was no longer sure what was being discussed, which was a shame because he was conversing only with himself. He had no idea why, in a heated argument, she had pounced on him quite like a lion on steak—or a lion on a wildebeest, or why this was suddenly leading to the possible end of all he had ever known.
"Christine," he said as he began to shake his head.
He'd never been with a woman before, not ever. All of the fantasies on the verge of becoming reality were no longer enticing. They were frightening and dreadful, becoming more grounded as the seconds passed. There was absolutely no way he could possibly pleasure her all night, not on the first try. Minutes, possibly—and that seemed hopeful all of a sudden.
"Will you teach me?" Christine begged. "Teach my buds to burst into bloom?"
"I think you've taught yourself."
Christine shot him a look. "When we return to the opera house, I am covering my mirrors," she said under her breath, but Erik wasn't sure what she meant or why she was still looking at him, a hint of anger in her eyes.
She placed her hand over his. "When will these flames at last consume us?"
"Very, very soon," Erik gulped. "But first, we must return to my apartments before the flames engulf us right here."
Christine checked his expression. "Do you think I'm not quite prepared for such intense and vigorous study?" she asked with a frown. "Because I will do anything to prove that I am quite ready."
Erik arched his eyebrow. "Anything?"
Christine nodded. "Anything you, my teacher, deem necessary."
Sitting quietly, Erik considered her words and evaluated the situation set before him.
"You may need to study day and night for hours at a time," Erik said at last. "I may be able to provide reading material if you wish. Are you prepared to meet my demands?"
"I am."
"Then let us return at once," Erik said. He stood and Christine took his arm. This was what he had always wanted, though as they walked back to the opera house, Erik had a feeling it would be nothing like he expected.