This one's a bit short as well…sorry about that…but once again, it just seemed like the perfect place to end the chapter. And the ruler thing's still not working...Is anyone else having a problem with it, or is it just my computer having an issue?

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, REVIEW…

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Lenore closed her book and sighed. It wasn't that the book was boring, it was just long. Robert Jordan managed to pack so much information and detail into each of his books that it was hard to take it all in. Unless, of course, you had nothing else to do and no one to talk to. Which was how Lenore felt.

She didn't know why, but Erik had spent the past week studiously ignoring her whenever he could. Ever since returning to the lair the night after visiting her mother, he had avoided her like the plague. He even went so far as to bring her meals to her and leave her to eat alone. Lenore spent countless hours rehashing their last conversation, which was about the necklace he'd given her, but she could never produce anything that might have angered him so badly that he wouldn't even look at her for two seconds.

I keep telling you that it's not something you said. Think about what he said; maybe he likes you, didn't know how to tell you, let it slip in that conversation, and is avoiding you because he's afraid you won't share his feelings. I mean, it's worth thinking about. Not everything has to be about you and your actions…

"Oh, shut up," Lenore mumbled to that rather bothersome voice inside her head. This is just the most glorious Sunday I've ever experienced. Dead silence, a long book that I can't concentrate on, and a rat that seems to find me more companionable than Erik. Cristoph oddly preferred her company to Erik's, currently. Lenore felt very much the same; Cristoph's company was, at present, more enjoyable than Erik's. "You men are difficult," she muttered at the rat, who looked up at her reproachfully. "Well, it's true. I don't understand males at all."

Lenore set the book down on the bedside table, sighing tiredly. Laying in bed with a full stomach (she'd just had dinner about an hour ago) and reading a book, even if she couldn't concentrate on it, was a sure way to put herself to sleep. Not that it really mattered, because she didn't have anything else to do tonight.

Sliding out of bed, Lenore crept to the doorway, deciding to poke her head out into the lair and see if she couldn't find out what Erik had occupied himself with. Scanning the lair, Lenore immediately realized that he wasn't at his organ writing music, he wasn't in the kitchen area (not that she'd really expected him to be there anyway), and he wasn't in the art studio niche.

"Well where the bloody hell is he?" she grumbled, thoroughly perturbed that he wasn't within her sight. Then she noticed the gondola was missing. "That damn bastard! He went out and left me here, without so much as a parting remark to let me know I was alone down here."

He's not here…he won't know if you sneak out for a bit. Go out to the artsy room, draw a bit, and then sneak back in. He'd never know. And if he found out…well…serves him right for leaving you alone like this. With a devilish grin, Lenore crept out to the studio, and settled herself at the table, grabbing the closest piece of parchment.

Her hand was halfway to the charcoal pencil on the table when she noticed small protuberances on the parchment, as though the other side had been drawn on already. Curiosity seized her and she turned the parchment over. A sketch of her naked form, hands grabbing at her, pulling her down into a well of darkness, covered the paper.

Lenore quickly replaced the parchment to its former position. Don't paint this, Erik. Don't let this come into the world. The first painting he had made of her was different from this one. The first had been full of tender, pure love. But this sketch overflowed with burning, violent lasciviousness, and it frightened her so wonderfully that her body quivered of its own accord.

"Precisely what do you think you are doing?" she heard Erik's voice hiss in her ear.

I should have heard him come in, but… "I wanted to draw," she answered meekly, failing to keep her voice from trembling.

"I thought you knew you weren't to leave the bedroom without my permission," he snarled as he spun her to face him.

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The moment he saw her face, Erik lost his false temper. He had been trying so hard to isolate his feelings and purge his body of his lust for her, and she ruined it with a single look. Those eyes, wide, vulnerable, and frightened. Those full lips, on the verge of spluttering out some nonsensical reason for her disobedience.

Erik pulled her body tightly against his, his lips hungrily devouring her own. Lenore grew heavy in his arms and he knew that he had drowned her in a deep sea of passion to the point where she couldn't even support herself. He picked her up and set her on the desk, not even breaking contact in the process. Her arms, paralyzed with shock when he initiated the kiss, came to themselves and wrapped around him, her hands beginning to slide up and down his back as she pushed herself tighter against him, deepening the kiss. It seemed as if their lips were playing a beautiful melody, and when her tongue tentatively suggested adding a harmony, Erik eagerly complied, sliding his own tongue into her welcoming mouth. His hands hopelessly entangled themselves in those beautiful locks of hers that seemed golden in the candlelight and milk chocolate in the shadows.

Just as Erik was about to lay her down on the desk (the hell with ruining his sketches), someone cleared their throat behind him. Ripping himself from Lenore, he whirled around to glare at the intruder. It came as no surprise that Darius was standing there; after all, Darius was the only other living person who knew how to get to Erik's lair.

"Forgive my interruption," Darius said in a heavy accent, obviously somewhat embarrassed at walking in on the two of them. Which was quite understandable when Lenore gave a squeak; Erik turned just in time to see her sliding her skirt down over her legs. How he had failed to realize just how indecently high her skirt had slid was beyond him. "Madam Parker has become quite distraught, having not seen her daughter for a full week."

"Is that supposed to concern me? If you like, tell Madam Parker that her daughter is far too busy being ravished to visit with her," Erik replied.

"Don't you dare!" Lenore snapped at Darius. "We most certainly are not doing anything of a ravishing nature!"

"Perhaps it's not my place to say this, but just a moment ago"- Darius began.

"No. It was not what it looked like at all!" Lenore argued.

"I believe it looked suspiciously like we were kissing and fondling," Erik said nonchalantly. "If that's not what we were doing, perhaps you'd care to explain to me what we were doing."

"You just keep your mouth shut, don't give me that logic crap!" she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and glowering at him. "Anyway, I'll just have to go back up; Mom's gonna be livid with how long I've been gone as it is, I don't need you making it worse by telling her Erik's screwing me senseless, which is not true."

"Let her be upset. It might do her good to realize that you are no longer a child and, as such, you will do as you please, when you please," he declared. "If that entails spending a week with a man instead of visiting with her, so be it."

"I'll just be leaving now," Darius muttered almost inaudibly, slipping out as quickly as possible.

"I'm in enough trouble for living with you as it is," Lenore griped. "It's only gotten worse now that she's been here a week and I spent all that time with you instead of with her."

Erik grabbed her forearm and hauled her off of the table and out into the lair, taking her over to a large stand mirror covered with a crimson drape. He attacked the buttons on the dark purple dress she had donned this morning, despite her protests and wriggling, sliding the dress off of her the moment the last button was undone. This was followed with the removal of her undergarments, which was accompanied with stronger objections and attempts at violence on Lenore's part. Turning his back on her naked form, he ripped the drapery from the mirror, exposing the brutally honest glass.

"Look at yourself. You are not a child any longer, Lenore," Erik informed her as he stepped aside to let her view her own reflection. She never seemed to quite grasp the fact if she was merely told she was a woman, so Erik was planning to make this point quite vividly. Erik shed his gloves, then came to stand behind her, leaving less than an inch to separate them, and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Your mother refuses to see it, and you seem reluctant to. However, it has not escaped my attention."

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His last words were delivered in a husky tone, making her tremulous with desire. The words echoed endlessly in her ears as she wondered what he was planning, wondered why he had her naked in front of a mirror. When his hands snaked around her from behind and cupped her breasts, she leaned back against him, knowing there was no point in trying to fight the euphoria he was submerging her in because Erik always won in the end.

Erik began to gently rub her nipples with his thumbs while sucking on her collarbone, and Lenore's head fell back against his shoulder. Briefly, her eyes stared at the cavern ceiling above before fluttering closed. Her breath began coming in strangled gasps, the process of drawing in oxygen becoming an effort. She needed more air, couldn't get enough of it now that her blood was racing madly through her body. There was a strange pressure building between her legs, and it seemed to pulsate, waiting a few seconds for a response from Erik between each throb of lust.

Slowly, Erik trailed his left hand down her torso, finally coming to rest between her legs. She could feel in his fingers a need to compose a seductive sonata, and Lenore knew she wanted to be the instrument for that piece. He began a slow tempo, eliciting soft moans from her throat, for he was doing extremely well. Having touched herself down there, however, Lenore knew he could do better. She slid her hand over his and guided his fingers through more pleasing movements until she was certain he had the motions memorized.

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Erik felt a warm fluid seeping out of her womanhood and knew she was ready. He slipped his index finger in and she began to pant, moaning louder than before. A few moments later, he slid in another finger. The volume of her vocalizations increased yet again, and he began to wonder how loud of a reaction he could exact from her. Hoping it wouldn't hurt her, Erik inserted a third finger.

It was a tight fit, that much he could be certain of. The mobility of his fingers became more limited, and that made him worry that it was too much for Lenore. Just as he was about to ask her if it was paining her, she began to call his name, moaning it every few seconds. Erik smirked briefly before he began to nibble on her ear; he had never touched a woman in a sexual manner, but apparently he was doing well enough to please his precious chouchoute.

When her muscles clenched around his fingers, Erik let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He gently slid his fingers out, feeling that, with that muscle contraction, her body was telling him that it'd had enough of being played with for the moment.

Erik scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. After depositing her in the bed, he removed his cloak (he'd neglected to take it off after returning with material for another dress), frock coat, waist coat, and shirt. Her eyes followed his movements, staring at his well toned torso. He laid down in the bed next to her on his side, and Lenore snuggled right up to him, yawning slightly. He had exhausted her, but if it cured her of her childishness, it was well worth it.

"I love you, Erik," she whispered just before succumbing to sleep.

No, you don't. You say it now, but your mind is clouded with endorphins. Besides, you don't know me at all, ma petite. You can't truly love someone you don't know. But…it was sweet of you to say that. I'll treasure those words for eternity, those words which no other woman could ever bring herself to say to me before, that no woman will ever utter to me again.