Chapter Seventeen
The group went to the Phillips Club together and requested bandages, lineaments, and alcohol for cleaning Erik up. As it was late in the evening, very few people staying there were aware of what was going on. They got to Erik's suite and Frank himself brought the items requested. In order for everything to be made right between Christine and Erik, Sabine led Frank back downstairs, chatting amicably with him while Sarah and Meg helped get Erik settled.
"I'll go to my suite. It's just down the hall should either of you need anything," Sarah offered. "I suspect he'll make for a terrible patient," she added, leaning conspiratorially towards Christine.
Christine smiled. "I think you might be correct."
Erik glared at both of them as he eased himself into a wingback chair by the unlit fireplace. "I wonder, Miss Giry, if you'd be so kind as to pour me a glass of the cognac sitting there," he asked of Meg, pointing to a tray of bottles.
Meg jumped to do his bidding and poured two glasses, handing one to him and one to Christine. "I think maybe you should have some, too," she said.
"Come, Meg. Let's give them some privacy," Sarah said smiling as she went to the door.
Meg embraced her friend tightly. "I'm so glad you're both going to be okay," she said, meaning so much more than what the phrase held at face value. Ending the hug, Meg turned to Erik and, on impulse, grabbed onto and held his hand tightly, looking into his eyes briefly and smiling before she followed Sarah out of the door.
The sudden quiet of the room was nearly deafening. Christine looked at Erik who was watching her quietly. She turned to the supplies Frank had brought. She gathered them and brought them to a table next to his chair. Standing over her patient, she took a large sip of her cognac and then, setting the glass down, she took a deep breath and came to stand between Erik's legs. She shakily reached out and began to untie Meg's bloodied sweater. He sat forward as she gently pulled it from around him and then wrapped it into a ball to be thrown away. Still unspeaking, Christine swallowed hard and then began unbuttoning his shirt.
Erik blinked in surprise and gasped as her small hands made quick work of the buttons. Before he knew what was happening, she had it completely undone and was pulling it up out of his trousers. Her fingers lightly brushed his bare skin as she pulled at the shirt tails and suddenly it was more than the heat of the cognac spreading quickly from his throat to his stomach and beyond. Finally, she spoke.
"Lean forward," she commanded and he found himself obeying. Her hands went to his shoulders and pushed his shirt off and down his arms before he knew what she was doing. And then he heard her gasp.
She knew the wound would be messy and she had steeled herself for that. What she hadn't been prepared for were the scars. Crisscrossing his chest, going up over his otherwise smooth shoulders, and diving down his abdomen to disappear below the waist of his pants, were the raised remainders of countless examples of inflicted pain.
"Who?" Was all she could manage to whisper.
The heat he had felt cooled immediately in his embarrassment. "Most are from the Shah of Persia, whom I served for a time. A few are reminders of my mother's love." He downed the cognac and stood up, allowing his shirt to slip completely off. He went to the bottle of cognac and refilled his glass, unwilling to see the disgust that must be evident in her eyes.
"As if my face wasn't ugly enough, my body needs must be marred as well." He laughed condescendingly at himself. He was presenting his back to her now: yet another canvas for the Shah's particular artistic endeavors. What had he been thinking in believing that he could be a normal man in Christine's eyes? He didn't dare turn around to see her cowering in fear and revulsion from him yet again.
And then he felt a feather-light touch start at his left shoulder and trace its way down a well-remembered scar. The touch followed it diagonally across the middle of his back to where it suddenly reversed and curved back up and around to disappear where his fresh wound was. Every sense tingled and the hair on his arms stood up at her touch and then, of all things, he felt her arms wrap gently around him as she laid her head against his bare back in an embrace.
They stood like that for several moments until he could stand it no more. He turned around in her embrace and looked into her eyes, searching for the loathing that must be there. Instead, all he saw was compassion.
Christine smiled gently at him and moved to her supplies. He stood there in shock, allowing her to clean his wound and then gently bandage it, wrapping cloths around his waist to hold it in place. Every time her fingertips grazed his flesh, he shivered, unable to do little more than watch her careful ministrations. When she finished, she stepped away to admire her handiwork and picked up her glass of cognac, finishing what was left. He was silently watching her still and she knew she was the one with the power to heal or permanently destroy them both. She held her glass out to him to be refilled and, as he raised an eyebrow and complied, she began to speak.
"Your scars don't make you ugly; they make you human….real. For so long I've felt that you were this untouchable, unreachable being. Then, as my teacher, I was afraid to think of you as human. Seeing you bared like this…." Christine took another sip of the cognac to stoke her courage…. "You're beautiful." She took a step to him and hesitantly reached out to lay her hand on his chest, over his heart.
"Beautiful?" Erik scoffed, but at the same time thrilled to her touch.
"Yes. Your body is like a marble statue from a museum: all so white and cool to the touch….and sculpted." Here, she moved her hand up to his shoulder and then down his arm.
"Christine," he cautioned hoarsely. "You may believe you can see beyond my physical scars, but what about the emotional ones I gave you? I tried to control you, force emotions from you that you couldn't feel. It was wrong of me; I know that now. I am ashamed of what I was. But if you could only know the pain I've felt….," he trailed off, torn between trying to apologize and justify his actions.
"I know that I was the cause of a great deal of that pain and for that, I am truly sorry," Christine interjected. "I was so blind. My father taught me to always see with my heart because it will never lie. Instead, I listened to others and thought they knew what was right, allowing my head to rule my heart. I misunderstood what I felt and learned to regret it. When I finally knew what true love felt like, I was appalled that I had nearly pledged my life to the wrong man. These last few months have been so revealing to me. I've come to realize that you and I are like two strands of melody that belong entwined." At this, Christine stepped closer to him, mere inches away, and touched his face gently.
He couldn't help it. He gasped at her touch and leaned his face further into her palm, rubbing his cheek there. "Oh, Christine," he quietly exhaled.
"I'm still afraid. You make me feel like everything is spinning out of control when I'm so close to you. But I know now that the loss of control is what passion is. I was so naive before. Please….forgive me," Christine apologized.
Erik took the hand that was still cupping his cheek and kissed her palm and then her wrist, his eyes searching hers for any sign of disgust. What he saw instead sent heat scorching through his body.
Christine's eyes widened as his mouth grazed the pulse at her wrist. It was as if that simple gesture sent a searing line from the veins there straight to her stomach and then lower. She gasped at the feeling and saw an answering flame in his eyes. When he gently lowered his head to kiss the inside and then the dimple of the joint of her arm, she felt as though her legs were about to give out. "Erik," she whispered.
Hearing his name spoken by her for the first time in a breathy whisper dissolved the last of his timidity. Standing up straight, his right arm snaked around her waist and pulled her to him. She gasped as their bodies came together and, in that endless moment between that first contact and him lowering his mouth to hers, she experienced a dozen sensations; she felt the strength of his embrace, the hard plane of his bare chest against her, the feel of his scars on her arms, and….on the most primal level….the evidence of his desire for her. His eyes bore into hers as he pulled her body even tighter to his and then all conscious thought fled her mind as his mouth crushed into hers.
His first taste of her nearly overwhelmed him. The softness of her mouth, the scent of lavender around them, and her soft sigh drove him mad. He wrapped her in his arms, striving to mold her into him, their bodies lining up to perfection. And when she opened her mouth and her tongue met his, he felt an overwhelming need take control of his inexperienced body. Instinctively, he brought his hands to her face as he deepened their kiss. Those same hands then traveled down to her shoulders and then cupped her breasts. She tore her mouth away from his and took a strangled gasp of air. Encouraged by the signs of her desire, he slipped one hand into the neckline of her dress, pulling it off her shoulder in order to expose the perfect roundness of flesh there. His questing fingers immediately found the hard nipple and he rubbed his thumb over it as he cupped her bared breast.
At his touch, Christine lost the rest of her inhibitions. She found her hands at his waist and she slid them up and then down his back, reveling in the feel of muscles under his skin. She reached up and pulled his face down to hers for another kiss. Each time his mouth found hers, her world spun and she had to hold on to him for dear life. In the heat of this kiss, Christine allowed her hands to travel down to his waist again and this time, she was the one pulling him against her, allowing instincts to take over as she writhed against his hardness.
It was more than he could bear. He reached behind Christine to try and unbutton her dress. The buttons were maddeningly small and there were so many that he gave up his endeavors and, in one swift movement, ripped the back of her dress completely open. She gasped in surprise but didn't hesitate to step out of it, standing before him clad only in her undergarments. The glow of the gas lamps behind her made the flimsy material sheer as a spiderweb and now it was Erik's turn to gasp as he took in her shape and features. Groaning with desire, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her into his bedroom, laying her on the dark covers and standing back up to stare at the image of her in his bed.
Never taking her eyes from his, Christine slipped entirely out of the rest of her clothing, suddenly feeling brazen and worldly, loving how his eyes devoured every inch of her. He sat on the bed next to her and finally allowed himself to touch the glorious curls of her hair, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.
"You are more beautiful than any goddess: so perfect!" He whispered.
She smiled at him and reached up to pull him down against her as she kissed him, reveling in the feel of his bare chest against hers: skin against skin.
With shaking hands, Erik took both breasts in his hands and then, in a burst of courage and desire, he bent his head and took one perfect and rosy nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue.
"Erik!" She gasped again, writhing with pleasure and a growing need for more….much more. He continued his experimentation with her nipples and then, slowly, he began traveling kisses between her breasts and down her stomach. Her breathing came in shorter and shorter gasps as he reached her hips and allowed one hand to slide down the center of her stomach, below her navel, and to her heated core.
She had no time to consider modesty or be embarrassed. Before those emotions could register in her desire-fogged brain, his fingers slipped inside of her and she found herself rocketing to new heights of desire.
The moans emanating from her gave Erik new confidence. He knew what he was looking for, thanks to his extensive if not hurried research a few days ago. But as he played her body like the instrument it was, bringing her closer to ecstasy, he found himself wanting more. Before she could realize what he planned and stop him, he bent between her legs to replace the ministrations of his fingers with his mouth. She cried out in shock, but did not draw away. Instead, she instinctively bent her knees, opening herself wider to him. Her hands fluttered by her sides like butterflies looking for a place to land. They came to rest at first on his shoulders and then on his head, encouraging his ministrations. She felt drawn to an edge: an edge she desperately wanted to jump off, but she couldn't quite reach it. In frustration, she realized the problem: his mask.
"Erik! Your mask….please! Take it off!" She gasped out.
It was dark in the room, but he was still afraid. He recognized the barrier it was proving to be and, not for the first time, he cursed himself. He raised up on his elbow to look at her. She was even more beautiful with the rosy haze of passion on her face: her eyes full of unfulfilled desire. He looked down and saw how swollen she was, how she throbbed with need, and quickly he removed his mask and bent back down to stroke the length of her with his tongue before burrowing his mouth into her again.
This time, she felt the edge rush up to meet her and, realizing she could feel nothing but his face in her most intimate of places, realizing his mouth and tongue….God, his tongue….were kissing and sucking at the swollen nub of her womanhood, she felt the push that sent shockwaves rocking her body. She cried out in ecstasy so strong it was nearly agonizing. She clutched his shoulders as she arched her hips up, wanting his mouth to never stop.
The rush of having been the one responsible for bringing her to such heights was empowering, but only briefly, as Erik realized he was now maskless in front of her. The room was dark, but not dark enough to suit him. He raised himself up to lay his head on her abdomen, his scars touching her bare skin. He stayed like that for a few moments and then quickly flipped himself to her right. Then, laying on his back next to her with the scarred side of his face farthest from her, he began feeling around for the mask so carelessly discarded in a moment of passion. His search was interrupted, however, when he felt Christine turn on her side to curl her body against his, her head coming to rest on his chest. The intimacy of something so simple nearly stopped his heart and did stop his breathing for a moment. Her naked body pressed against his semi-naked one was nearly more than he could bear. When she started rubbing his chest, playing with the light hair there, he felt the rush of desire return even though he still wanted his mask. Who was this woman next to him? Surely this wasn't the same, timid ballerina turned diva he once knew!
After experiencing such incredible ecstasy for the first time in her life, Christine felt changed: reborn. How could she have any inhibitions left after what Erik had done to her with only his mouth? She'd had no idea a person could experience such an explosion of emotions: one that literally ripped through her body to send waves of pleasure like that. She certainly didn't know that it could happen by just touching and stroking that area. Now, as her mind cleared a bit from the haze of that explosion, she reasoned if she could feel like that from Erik's ministrations to her, shouldn't he be able to as well? She pressed her body against his, loving the feel of his skin on hers, but she was thwarted by the separation his pants created. Feeling completely new and already having an insatiable curiosity, Christine allowed her hand to slide from his chest, to his abdomen, to the waist of his pants where she began to unbutton them. She felt Erik go stock still as she heard him suck in a breath of air. Realizing he was shocked and caught off guard by her actions made her smile. For once, she held the upper hand. She managed to finish unfastening his pants and then, realizing she couldn't do much more with only one hand, she sat up and began to tug at them. He turned his face away when she sat up and she knew he was struggling with being maskless in front of her. But he didn't stop her and actually lifted his hips to help her efforts. When she finally had him completely bared in front of her, she sat back and simply looked.
"Look at me, Erik," was all she said.
His hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. He felt powerless and totally not in control of this situation: something he hadn't experienced in a very long time. With a hoarse voice he asked, "Look at you? I can't. I can't bear to see your face looking at mine."
Christine felt her heart break, but at the same time, realized she held the power to heal this broken….shattered….piece of him. She trailed her fingers down from his shoulders, across the many scars of his chest, down his sides to his hips, and then, maneuvering herself between his legs, she trailed her hands below his waist and gently caressed the length of him. She heard another gasp escape him but she judged it was a positive sign. She was intrigued at the satiny smoothness of him, the length and breadth of him, the sheer masculinity of the entire picture of him disrobed and exposed to her. She let instinct and curiosity take over as she learned to use her hands, judging her success by his reactions. Remembering the feel of his mouth on her, she laid down between his legs and hesitantly kissed him lightly.
The moan that erupted from deep within him vibrated into Christine's chest. Encouraged, she explored all of him: first bestowing light kisses and then, remembering what he had done to her, using her tongue to travel the length of him. She looked up to gauge his reactions and then took him into her mouth.
Her inquisitive tongue and lips had been inflaming; when she took him completely into her mouth, he felt those flames of desire threaten to completely engulf him. Never, never, had he felt desire such as this. The passion she was showing him was creating within him a need too urgent to deny. He didn't think he wanted to. He was reaching the same heights she had and was suddenly terrified of falling over the edge, losing total control. But he didn't have to worry for long; she stopped and spoke again.
"Erik. Look at me."
He shook his head as much as he dared, not willing to give her even the most fleeting glimpse of his face. He felt her body shift as he stared at the wall, trying not to become weak, but he could feel tears threatening. "I am ashamed of what I am. I can't bear to see your eyes," he whispered brokenly.
She knew. She knew how to heal him and, before he could stop her and before she could lose her courage, she replied, "We have nothing left to suppress." And with those simple words, she straddled him, taking him entirely within her.
Their twin gasps echoed in unison and, completely against his will, Erik turned to look at her in shock. She was astride him, pressed completely down to him, joining them together as one. The image of her like that, hair loose, a sheen of sweat glistening on her brow, eyes closed at first in shock as he entered her but then opened wide with hazy passion….her perfectly round breasts with nipples hard and pointed….he couldn't look away. He saw her eyes focus on him and then, instead of the horror he expected to appear, her eyes softened and her lips curved into a smile that radiated nothing but love.
"You're perfect: so beautiful," she whispered, gently brushing a tear away that had escaped one eye to travel down his deformed cheek.
Her touch there forced two more tears from him and he swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. "Christine," he began, but lost his voice as suddenly she began to rock her hips.
She had expected pain but it hadn't totally come. She had felt more of a shocking pop when she'd lowered herself onto him, but it wasn't really painful. She had no idea what to do next but as her body adjusted to his size, she felt the urge to move. Slowly at first, she simply rocked a bit on him, still watching his reactions. His eyes had gone wide at her movement and what he had been about to say was left unsaid. She felt heady with power, knowing she held him at her will. His hands had reached out to her hips and he lifted her up and then pulled her back down onto him, moaning as he did so. She mimicked the motion again on her own, raising herself even higher before sliding back down onto him and this time, she felt something move within her. She did it again, and then again, developing a rhythm that started pulling her up that precipice again. She watched him carefully, seeing him climb higher and faster than her and so she stopped with her body locked down on his, watching him struggling not to thrust into her. When he had cooled a little, she started gyrating her hips again without raising herself up and down. His hands reached up to her breasts as she sat astride him, rubbing herself against him, seeking that sensitive nub he had taught her about. She felt herself getting closer to that peak and began her rhythm again, but this time she felt his hands clamp onto her hips, refusing to let go, as he met each of her downward slides with an upward thrust of his own. Her speed increased with their mutual need and she felt him shudder within her as he cried out her name. Moments later, she felt the same explosion of sensation as before and found his name on her lips over and over as she fell back to earth.
She stayed astride him until she finally felt her senses return. She looked at him again, his eyes half-closed, and smiled at him.
"Where has this woman been hiding all this time?" He finally spoke.
She raised an eyebrow and laughed. "I'm not entirely certain. She surprised me, too."
He laughed….genuinely laughed and, holding her to him, turned their bodies so that he was now on top of her. "You are quite the vixen."
She reached up and pulled him down for a kiss, reveling in the freedom to capture his lips without the mask in the way. He returned her kiss and deepened it, stroking her hair. When they parted, he smiled at her as he reluctantly pulled away to lay on the bed. She immediately curled next to him, head on his chest once more. He marveled at how perfectly she fit against him, as if she had been made solely for him. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her tight. She sighed contentedly and snuggled in tighter to him. The last thing she thought of as she drifted off to sleep was they had finally begun healing their hearts.