All Hallows Eve

by Kryss LaBryn

Still own nothing except Jean Claudin... Darn the luck...

Here you go! The final chapter. My apologies that it is rather shorter than the others. And please do let me know how I did! This is the naughtiest anything that I've ever written, and I'm still a little uncomfortable writing in detail about the two of them. But after the end of the last chapter, I was afraid I'd get lynched if I didn't at least try..!

Bal Masque: All Hallows Eve: Coda

With a low growl, he was upon me, and I upon him…

It was heavenly to finally feel him, him, against me, flesh to flesh! To be able to explore the hollows beneath each rib, to trace the contours of his spine..! He was still thin, so very thin; but under my care he had perhaps filled out just a bit. There was the barest trace of flesh beneath the skin of his chest; his wiry muscles wore the barest padding over them.

I almost laughed aloud to think of his hesitancy in baring himself to me, after I had already seen his poor dear face. His skin was perhaps too taut over his spare frame; it had the same unhealthy sallowness as his face. But otherwise, he was simply a man, a very skinny, but ordinary, man.

And he was mine...

I took full advantage of my newfound freedom, tracing each poor scar, following the curve of his neck down to his shoulder with my lips, tasting, finally! the salt of his skin as his own lips tasted me, murmuring endearments against him as he whispered words of love into my own neck, tracing the contours of his breeches-clad thigh with my own as his mouth and his wonderful, calloused musician's hands wandered ever downward, ever closer to that most intimate part of me, that thrust towards him and ached for the feel of his mouth, his lips, his tongue upon it..!

It was quite some time later that, sated, I finally allowed him to finish dressing. His own fingers were lazy against my spine as he re-laced my stays for me, lingering at the nape of my neck as he lifted my hair over my collar as I donned my shirt. Leaning back into him, his arms circling my waist, I could not but smile wickedly at him, content for the moment to simply rest against him.

"Well," he murmured, giving my ear a last nibble, "Quite tired out, are we?"

"Not at all, my love," I returned, indolent, "But I think I can wait until we get home now, anyways."

"Ah, my love," and he kissed my neck; "Be kind to your poor old husband! I am not so young as once I was…"

"Oh," I breathed, my breath catching in my throat as he gently, slowly, nibbled his way to my bared shoulder, "You're a long way from your dotage!" I gasped as his hands roamed higher, and his tongue joined his teeth. "But—but if you keep doing that, we may never leave--!"

His low laughter rumbled through me, setting my stomach quivering. "And what a tragedy that would be, Madame!"

He sighed, though, and pushed me away slightly, leaving my back forlorn and hungry for his warmth. "However, I suppose we really should get a proper bandage around me. For some reason or other, this one seems to be slipping slightly!" He climbed to his feet, slightly awkward with me in his way, then helped me to stand upon legs that I didn't quite trust to take my weight.

However, I managed to avoid swooning into his arms, however delightful the idea seemed, and even managed to assist him into his own coat, although I must admit, the temptation to simply push him back down onto the sofa was very hard to resist. Instead, I kissed him, lingeringly, tasting myself upon his lips, and let him see the promise in my eyes. "Patience, my love," he chuckled, his own golden eyes glowing with desire; "Think of how much more comfortable our own bed will be!"

I did, and allowed him to lead me out into the dark passageway beyond, but oh, that ride home in the carriage was truly endless!

We made good use of the privacy, however, giggling and shushing each other all the way home in the darkness of the cab.

Late the next morning, as I lay in bed, lazily watching the patterns the trees outside threw upon the ceiling, I had a thought. "We must go to the balls more often."

Erik sighed, still half-asleep, and murmured, "We go to every one as it is."

I smiled up at the morning. "Then they must hold them more often! What do you think?"

He opened one eye, and stroked my cheek, still clumsy with sleep. "I think that would kill me, love!"

"We can't have that…"

"No… But it would be a very pleasant death!"

finis

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Please, do let me know what you thought of it. And let me tell you a story...

For years and years, long before I myself had started to write fanfic of any sort, I used to come here and read. Often, I would think to myself, "That was awesome!" But I never reviewed. After all, I thought, who am I? I have no stories up; I am not a reviewer by profession. Why would anyone care what I think?

But then I wrote something myself. And got my own reviews...

And do you know what? It does matter! Each and every review a writer receives is a pearl, to be treasured fondly, and reread, be it ever so humble or brief. In short, reviews are the coin for which we share our efforts; they are the air we breathe; they are the reason we write. So please, please, please, not only for my own sake, but that of all authors here, if a piece of work makes you feel anything at all, if you end it thinking anything beyond "Eh, whatever...", then, please, for the sake of the enjoyment you have had of it, hit the little blue button to the bottom left, and send a review.

I'm thinking of doing a few more seasonal pieces in what I rather hope may become a series; if so, Christmas would be next. Let me know what you think!

'Nuff said.

Much of the dressing room scene was written with the instrumental "Sarah" from the Labyrinth soundtrack on perma-loop in my headset, for those who wonder about such things. Harpsichords… Mmmmm…

And to anyone who ever wrote anything about "tearing through the delicate silk as though it were tissue paper", go on. Try it. I dares ya. Heh.

Oh yeah, and 'Jean Claudin': "Jean Claude PhanTOME" from Night Court, the wonderful Phantom parody they did as a season opener back in, what was it, 1990 or so? (Gods, I'm such a dork), and Erique Claudin from the (dreadful) 1943 Claude Rains version.

(At the masked ball at the courthouse, Dan Fielding, who's gone a little nuts and has been haunting the courthouse in Phantom drag, says "You can call me... Phantom!"

Group of guests, including the cop investigating the Fielding disappearance, and the business with the Phantom: "Phantom?"

Dan realizes his mistake. "Er... PhanTOME. Jean Claude PhanTOME. I'm French... On my mother's side..." That still makes me laugh...)