Disclaimer: All references to the characters from the Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera belong to their pertinent parties and publishers. I do not claim ownership to the characters, any iteration from a major production of the same material, and / or the original source material.
A/N: This is a gentle warning that the end of this chapter is very sexually suggestive. If you do not enjoy reading this type of material, skip the last 5-6 paragraphs. – p.s.
De petite souris a monsieur chat: Chapter 8
September 1882: In the Phantom's Lair
He waited patiently for Christine behind his desk. In his hand, he stared at the second letter. His right hand tapped gently at the cheek of his worn mask. He had discerned long ago that the "something of his" was his mask. Who the mysterious M was, however, eluded him. Then again, his thoughts had been occupied elsewhere.
"Who are you, Monsieur?" he asked the ether. "What do you want from me?" There was always something people wanted from him. He didn't really believe the person simply wanted to return his mask and willingly keep his secret. The man probably wanted money or a position at the opera. Perhaps it was another trap. Erik would make arrangements to receive his mask and the man would have him surrounded by police. Erik smirked. What if the 'M' was meant to misdirect him? It was clever, but not clever enough. He threw the letter back on his desk and rose to stride over to his organ.
Repairs had been slow. His funds were being diverted to Nadir and supporting the opera above. He fixed what he could on his meager stash of money. His food stores in the cellar had thankfully provided him with what little food he needed to survive. But music... the pain from not hearing the organ bellow under his touch hurt.
"Soon, my friend," he muttered stroking the cracked lacquer body. "Soon I will fix you and we'll fill this dismal place with joy and sadness again." He heard a soft tinkling sound from the bells in the cellar. Something or someone had fallen into one of his traps. Before he could open the hidden door to rush down and investigate, he heard the soft falls of small feet and the rustle of skirts. He turned to see Christine pull her velvet hood down around her shoulders. She shined like a jewel in the fire and lamp light.
"An angel more beautiful than Dante's dear Beatrice," he said under his breath as she smiled up at him. He composed himself and chose to ignore the alarm. Whoever he caught would have to wait. Erik crossed the room and took Christine's hands into his. "I've missed you."
"I missed you, too," Christine replied giving his ungloved hands a gentle squeeze. She didn't pull away and let out a small sigh. "I cannot stay long. Raoul suspects I am up to something."
Erik gritted his teeth at the man's name then relaxed. "Suspects you of what?"
"God only knows," Christine said with a shrug. She pulled her hands away and began to untie her cloak. "We have time for only one song."
Taking her cloak, he laid it on the coach and settled at the piano as she walked to stand beside it to his left instead of his right. She wore a simple, high collared frock of pale blue. Her hair hung loose down her back, completely out of fashion with the rest of her attire. "What would you have me play, Christine?"
She smiled sweetly and settled onto the piano bench next to him. He tensed as he smelled jasmine and sunlight. Her arm brushed against his. "The aria from Don Juan."
"Christine," Erik replied swallowing hard as he glanced at her. He hid his trembling hands in his lap and looked away from the beautiful creature beside him. "No... Not that. I don't think I can stand to hear anything from that... abominable composition."
Her hand touched his arm and he felt the heat of her hand through his suit jacket. "Please... Let me sing your work once more."
He felt desire for both her, and the song stir in his chest. The heartbroken man didn't dare to move. "I can't."
Christine pouted and her other hand crept upward to gently lift Erik's gaze to hers. "This may be the last time I am here, Erik," she pleaded with tears welling up in her blue eyes. "Raoul plans to take me to Calais in three weeks. Give me this song so my heart can be lighter."
She saw the fury blaze in Erik's strange gaze, but the monster didn't retaliate. The beauty kept the beast at bay. Christine relished her ability to control this dangerous creature, but she also knew she walked a fine line with him. If she pushed him too hard, Erik would let his emotions control him. His reason would abandon him in a heartbeat. To soothe his raging mind and manipulate him into her desire, she leaned in and kissed his bare left cheek. His sharp inhale made her smirk with triumph. All men were alike - a promise here, a little tenderness there, and they were wrapped around your little finger. Raoul was the exception to her coy seductions.
"Very well," he whispered as she pulled away. However, his fingers played automatically without the emotion needed to convey the beauty of the song. Christine sang beside him feeling the dullness between them. She touched his arm again stopping his playing. "Told you, Christine... I've tried... and I can't..."
"Erik, it's all right," she replied hearing his melodious voice crack with emotion. "Play another. Please."
"Kiss me," he demanded feeling the power return to his voice. "Kiss me, mon ange de la musique. Give this damned soul the inspiration to rise to the Heavens with your voice."
Christine shivered and felt the hypnotic tug of his words. She sighed and let him take her face in his hands. She felt the cool mask pressed against her cheek and tried not to pull away. She imagined she was kissing Raoul and let herself sink into the passion behind Erik's gentle touch. The kiss was tender but forceful, respectful but demanding more. Alas, she could not give this man what he long desired. Gently she pushed him away and noticed his mask eschew. The revulsion and horror returned suddenly. She turned away from him.
The innocent, wanting kiss ended too abruptly for Erik. He felt his mask after seeing her turn away, and he moved it back into place. She didn't scream, but he had seen the fear in her blue eyes. Without another word, he began to play the aria he had written for Christine. His warring emotions fuelled the song, and Christine reacted to him by singing beautifully. The more her voice rose and fell, the more powerful he played. He began to sing harmony to her song and felt her draw closer to him. Instinctively he let the aria end and flow into another piece with a slight change of key. Christine smiled at him and followed his lead singing the duet. As the second song ended, her voice fell away and Erik stopped playing.
"I must go," she said quietly. Her back was to him and he rose to stand behind her.
"You don't have to," he replied placing his hands on her shoulders, testing her emotions. "You can stay. We can leave Paris together. We can go-"
Her hand reached up and held his. She wouldn't look at him. "I can't. I made my choice, Erik."
She moved away from him but he followed. Christine moved to pick up her cloak over the couch, but Erik took it from her to place it around her. He held her in her cloak by the front and turned her to him.
"But you are here. Obviously you made the wrong choice. Now you can rectify it."
She shook her blond head. "I made a vow, Erik. 'Til death do us part."
"I can arrange that," he said seriously. He had said it without thinking and regretted it seeing the fear in her eyes. "His death not yours..." He was sinking fast. "Or not at all." Her fear melted. "Christine, you love me still, don't you?"
"I don't know, Erik. I love Raoul. I truly do," Christine replied then frowned. "But he doesn't... or he can't... he feels nothing in music. Not like we do." She placed her head against his chest and welcomed his arms around her in an embrace. "Oh, Erik, I don't know what to do."
He held her tightly and marveled at how her body formed to his. He wanted to kiss her worries away and whisk his sweet angel away to where no one would bother them. Practical logic, however, shook him to his core. The nagging voice in his head whispered words of betrayal in his ear. Christine had made her choice... and it wasn't him. He loved her... but did she truly love him or the music he gave her?
"Christine," he whispered then kissed the top of her head. "Let me lead you out of here."
She nodded against his chest grateful he had made the decision for her. Quietly they walked through the labyrinth of passages. Erik stopped before the secret door in the darkness. He turned and drew Christine to him once last time.
"May I?" he asked gentlemanly. She breathed a yes and his kiss was one of pure desire. In the darkness, she let him drive his tongue into her mouth. The mask had been removed, but she dared not touch his deformed face. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body into his. He trembled against her and almost painfully held her tight. Everything – all of the desire and passion Christine sought – came crashing through her, and suddenly, she didn't want him to let go. She didn't care except for filling that primal void of physical need.
As if in response, like a dying man to a life raft, Erik took what he wanted from her. Driven by her obvious pleasure, his hands roamed. Gently, he pushed her against the wall before letting his hands wander further. His thin lips drew away from her lush pair to caress other parts of her covered body. A far away part of him acknowledged the half-breathed sounds from her pale throat and the bite of her finger tips on his shoulders.
Christine felt more wanted than she had ever had underneath Raoul's touch. Her husband's gestures were tender and timid; Erik's demanded and took what he wanted from her. She tried to stifle a different type of moan as Erik's long-fingered, cold hand sought more of her. In the darkness, she bit her lush lips to keep her voice contained while her body expressed itself unconsciously. Her mind ignored the owner of that hand. Something drove her just as it drove this dark angel, this monster, this poor tortured man. In the darkness, she could imagine that the passion and pleasure she craved from this man came from another. She barely realized she had said it, but as Erik continued his ministrations, she breathed Raoul's name.
The darkness felt stifling. Erik's hand stopped. He pulled away feeling the arousal drain from him. He heard Christine panting in the darkness. His unfulfilled desires clawed at his aching body, but the small pieces of his broken heart turned to dust in his chest. Reality came suddenly to him and he became painfully aware of what Christine had done to him. Carefully, he melted into the darkness leaving behind a dream he could never have. Her voice followed him. His name on her lips made him shiver in disgust and desire.
"Erik?" she asked again weakly. Only the sound of her own breathing filled the silence in the tunnels. Erik was gone. Christine bit her tender bottom lip and cursed mentally at herself. She shivered feeling the wellspring of desire hovering within her still begging form to be filled. She had wanted to say Erik's name. She had wanted to give in to the passion between them and succumb to Erik fully in his dark world. Yet she had been thinking of her husband… and she had said, "Raoul."
Hurt and unsatisfied, she exited the passageway not caring if anyone saw her and walked to her waiting carriage. Like a medicinal drip, feelings of regret and then relief began to sink into her thoughts. Christine went home to her husband and coaxed him into the bedroom to see if he could satiate the need Erik had sparked within her.