A/N: Hmm, how do I put this: major firestorm ahead. Children, proceed no further. Adult only area…. (I like to be creative with my warnings.) And now...

Chapter XLVII

.

The hunger burned within - a live thing, impossible to restrain.

Nor did she want to.

When the Phantom failed to move or show any sign of a response whatsoever, Christine faintly, breathlessly whispered her need for him a second time.

"Yes…"

She stared at his mouth, parted and wet, glistening from their impassioned kisses. Surprise became manifest in the sudden jump of the muscle in his jaw and she again dared to look up into golden, heavy-lidded eyes.

They were intent with shock behind the mask.

"Oh, God – yes!"

Moving her hands from the wall, Christine clutched his strong shoulders and brought her mouth swiftly back to his.

How she wanted this! Beyond all reason, beyond all insane scruples and prudish sanity… and with a little thrill of triumph she realized he wanted her too! It was in his every response to her touch, in their embrace, in the desire blazing like a wildfire in his eyes–

He could no longer bloody well deny it if he tried!

As if reading her mind, he groaned low against her lips, the sound heaven to her ears, the ultimate sound of surrender. The flame of passion so long denied, so utterly repressed, exploded between them like inner sunbursts of fire, demanding no less than to relinquish all. Their kisses grew frantic and wild, landing where they may. He kissed her mouth and jaw, her neck, her ear, tasting of her flesh, then claimed her mouth again as if she were his oasis and he thirsted for as much of her as he could take. Through thin layers of wrapper and shift she felt the firm touch of his hand cover her breast like a brand of possession. His thumb rubbed the protrusion of nipple beneath the cloth, and she moaned against his lips, pushing herself into his hand.

He pulled away from her mouth, his body quivering. Slightly he shook his head as if to clear it. "You have bewitched me, my captive temptress..." His voice was gruff but still sated with beauty, his words a rasp of warm, moist breath against her skin, and she shivered from the sensation of both. He raised his eyes to hers, and she gasped to see the raw hunger there, blatant and sharp, no longer denied.

"I will take you this night..." He stared at her lips as he spoke, as if in a fog, "but if that is not your wish - You must tell me and not toy with me, Christine. I warn you, the moment for turning back will soon be forever lost. To both of us."

There was something so poignantly appealing and oddly vulnerable about his disbelief that she would want to be with him, in total contradiction to her views of this powerful, seductive man. His attitude only served to make her ache for him more, and she rested her hand, trembling, against his chest.

"The point of no return…"

Desire flared even darker in his eyes as he flicked them up to hers. "Yes."

His quiet avowal sharpened her need. Grabbing the lapels of his robe in tight fists, Christine pulled him to her hard.

"No more resisting." A second time she lifted herself on her toes to find his mouth with hers in her awkward seduction. "I want this, my dark Angel of Music …" she shamelessly begged between soft kisses, her own desire making her brazen. "…my wicked Phantom captor … I need this…"

He growled low, holding her pressed against him for a long moment, as if still strangely hesitant - then in one sudden move, tore her robe open and dragged it from her shoulders letting it fall to the ground. His large hands spread across her spine, scorching skin through shift as he again held her tightly, bringing her hips close to his, and she felt the full demand of his desire.

Nervous of what lay ahead, but not so much as to retreat from his embrace, Christine tightened her arms around his neck.

Never breaking his drugging kisses he turned with her, moving her back until her legs hit the high bed. With his large hands burning her waist and hips through the linen of her shift, he lifted her and pressed her back with his body, falling with her to the cold coverlet.

Christine gasped in delight to feel the exquisite weight of him on top of her, his lean, hard form against her softness pressing her into the mattress. Sinew and muscle against pliant flesh. It made her feel weak and alive, anxious and euphoric at the same time.

His lips were moist, suckling tender flesh and leaving damp fire in their wake as they slowly made their journey down the slim column of her neck. More wondrous than any imagining of the day or wicked dream of the night, the vivid reality she finally attained was beyond compare to such temporal shadows. She closed her eyes, feeling as if her body was again coming to life after so long being buried in cinders. Just as he had revived her deflated spirit with his phenomenal music and voice, so he was now doing to her senses with his possessive touch…

She breathed in the exhilarating scent of him – of tangy musk and sweet spice and candle smoke – but even as he again drank from her lips and stroked her yielding body, she could not help remember the last time she had been kissed so passionately and held and adored like this and with whom. She didn't want to - God, she didn't want to! Not now, not like this! It was long ago, another lifetime away, but often her dark Phantom reminded her so much of her lost love that though she'd sworn never again to revisit the past, she couldn't help but note the similarity.

All ghostly moments of bygone years rapidly evaporated in the light of the present as his hand gripped the square neckline of her thin shift and impatiently pulled downward. Stunned, she heard the weak stitching give way to the rip of linen even as the material caught snugly against her skin and cool air rushed across her breasts. A niggling of old panic to remember her cousin's similar treatment made her instinctively tense –

– yet this felt nowhere near the same. She wanted this ...

She wanted this man …

With a dark passion that threatened to consume her.

"Christine …"

He inhaled a shaky breath at the sight of what he uncovered in his haste to know more of her then glanced up into her eyes. She felt as if she might melt from the look of awe and need and want there. He remained motionless, his eyes burning in question, his body shaking as he held back. She stared at him in dazed wonder, realizing he must also be recalling what little she'd told him of her near rape that happened almost two months ago.

"I did not mean to…I have no wish to frighten you." His words were penitent, softer. Gentler than she'd ever heard him speak.

She barely shook her head. If she wasn't before certain that she wanted to belong to him entirely, his genuine and rare display of unreserved concern for her feelings left no doubt in her mind, and she gave him a timid smile.

"You didn't."

His eyes glowed with what looked like fiery adoration at her whisper, seeming to spark and fuel his response. He moved as if unable to tarry a second longer from touching her and covered her exposed flesh with his mouth, his hot tongue laving her with wet fire.

The moment his mouth found her tight crest, Christine's eyes grew wide. A rush of shock and need so powerful brought heat to inflame her skin, shooting deep to her core and burning away all traces of erstwhile fear that had no place in this moment. His hungry lips and tongue suckled at the globe of her trembling flesh while she clutched the back of his head, urging him for more, the hollow ache in her belly becoming intense. Softly he bit her rigid nipple, pulling away slowly and letting the nub of pink flesh escape his warm mouth. She groaned in distress that he had ended such wicked pleasures.

"Tell me you are sure you want this," he hoarsely whispered, his voice almost unrecognizable. "Want me. The monster who abducted you, the beast you have long feared –"

God – what did he need to convince him?!

In reply she grabbed his head with an impatient groan and reached up for him, again pulling him to her, her lips crushing his. There was no going back. She never wanted to go back – the point of return be damned!

After a short time he broke away from her seeking lips to kiss a damp trail down the center of her breasts.

"Christine …oh, my Christine …"

She gave a quivering sigh of satisfaction, the sound of her name again whispering from his lips as profound as the touch of them as they caressed her other nipple. She was drowning in a mire of sensation so dense, she could not reason, only feel. The area between her legs grew wetter with every gentle pull of his mouth, every sensual slide of his hands over her body as he sought to know all the hidden planes and contours of her skin.

Christine held her breath as his fingers slid along the inside of her calf, moving beneath the hem of her chemise, their tips tracing up her inner thigh toward the boundary of tight curls…so much like another experience, on the moors, what seemed ages ago, and she softly shook her head to rid her mind of that lost moment and keep her focus in the delectable present and this man, who was her present.

At last, his fingers found their end journey and dipped gently into the moist flesh of her womanhood. She hissed with pleasure even as her eyes fluttered closed, rolling back in her head at the deep intimacy of his touch and she felt the warm breath of his groan as he stroked her there. She gasped at the electrifying sensation amid the ripples of pleasure he provoked…

Cool air wafted over her moist breast as his lips left it. His eyes worshiped her body, briefly lifting to her half-closed lids, before she heard the slow tear of weakened material as he exposed more of her naked flesh to his soft, burning lips. His hands held her sides beneath her breasts, the tip of his tongue ringing her navel, dipping inside, before his mouth traveled across her flat belly scattering heated kisses to every inch of her pale, trembling skin. She held fast to his arms as if he were the anchor to keep her steady – he, the overwhelming source of her frenzied emotions.

The Phantom lost himself in Christine's supple warmth, never having felt anything so incredible as this intimacy with his beautiful, angelic songbird. The touch of her, the sight and scent and taste of her sweet, silken skin aroused him beyond anything he had ever known and every dream once imagined.

Another rip and she was completely and gloriously naked before him. He pulled back to stare in wonder at the magnificence of her alabaster skin, her sumptuous sylphlike body, wishing to commit this night to memory, resolved never to forget one moment of the vision of her so beautiful and willing beneath him. He could almost imagine the shine in her liquid dark eyes was love but he dared not believe it. Hope had brought him nothing but pain. This moment, this one profound moment in his world of darkest night, this he would make be enough. If it was the most he would ever be allowed to have, next to the emptiness he had so long endured – to be with her, like this, was everything.

And he would have all of her this night, every particle of what she offered, seizing the entirety of what she had to give...pleasuring her beyond even that limited boundary. Tonight there were no boundaries, no bothersome realities to mar the pretense. Tonight, he was no beast, and she was still a maiden - his maiden! And he would leave his mark upon her flesh, so that she could never forget that truth. For the rest of her days she would remember this night. This night, when the Phantom ravished her body and claimed her soul…

Christine watched him, suddenly nervous and uncertain. Her breasts heaved as she struggled for breath. His eyes glowed darker as they met her shy ones. Fierce. Hungry. Relentless. He gave her no time to question as he pushed her quivering thighs apart and to her stunned shock pressed his mouth to her damp center, as if to devour her.

She let out a hoarse, stuttering cry as his bold tongue tentatively licked that hidden part of her, then again more firmly. She jerked upright at the strong sensation he produced and tried to close her legs, but he held her captive in his iron grip, unwilling to yield.

"Let me drink from your pleasure, Christine…" His voice was a low rumble of silk, his breath hot against her wet flesh, and softly she whimpered at the stirring sensation. " … let me know all of you."

"You shouldn't," she whispered, certain this couldn't be natural, at the same time her rebellious wickedness battled her eroding modesty to experience the sin. "Y-you mustn't…"

He ignored her faint protests, and though Christine would never admit to such a thing, at that moment she was tremendously indebted to his stubborn nature. He tested and teased and drank from her flesh in a way that was sinfully wicked. Thoroughly shocking. But heaven help her, so deeply arousing…Surely she would go mad from the fiery sensations her Phantom awakened out of what scant morsels remained of her fast-dwindling innocence. She felt cognizant to nothing but his erotic act, the very air wafting over her fast losing its chill and becoming electric. Never had she felt such a degree of pleasure as this!

Maidenly shyness had fled with his first slow suckle, and now, when she felt she might come undone, primal instinct took over. She gripped his head, wantonly moving her body in instinctual rhythm beneath his greedy mouth, pleading with him for something she could not fully understand, whimpering when the torture grew extreme. She soared, reaching desperately for some desired plane of relief while drowning in the painful pleasure he instilled.

His tongue flickered over the highly sensitive flesh at the peak of her thatch of curls and she cried out at the intense sensation of need that instilled. The coil inside her belly tightened, the pressure deepened – God, she was burning, never thought hell could be so much like heaven – until she could stand the intensifying ache no longer, and in that moment, he drew the pearl of her swollen flesh between his lips, caressing it with his tongue. Her body instantly shook with tremors that shattered in a warm glow of release. Her exhalations came out in soft wavering sobs of pure pleasure, while he continued to feast on her desire. Feeling almost lethargic from her body's reaction to his wild, animal seduction, she felt as if she might float away or sink through the bedding, unsure of which, uncaring of her fate as long as he came with her.

Her Phantom moved up from between her legs, slowly wiping her cream from his parted mouth with the back of his hand, making even that simple act seductive and bringing another tingle of shivers to her flesh. He stared into her eyes as he crawled up to her, his lean muscles contracting with the fluidity of the wildcat to which she so often compared him, his darkened eyes wild and feral and dangerous with the promise of what more was to come. Christine stared at him beneath heavy lids, his eager prey, and wondered what on earth her welcome hunter would do to her next …

How could she have feared such heat and passion and bliss? How could she have feared him?

He lifted her higher on the bed, then ripped open his robe that had loosened, tearing it from his shoulders. Stunned by the display of such determined power, a third time her gaze fastened to his pale torso, closer than she'd ever seen it though the light in the chamber was very dim. Untouched by sun, his flesh was muscled and trim, tufts of dark hair dusting parts of his chest and ending in a thin trail down his stomach. His arms were likewise toned and muscled. Her face heated as his lean hands went to his black silk trousers, and she gasped to see what they had concealed as he quickly stripped them from his body and he was as naked as she. Before she could fully take in the disclosure of his masculinity that the moonlit night in the lake only hinted at – before she could fully see and realize and nervously wonder how this could even be possible – he moved the full length of his body over hers.

At the impression of intense heat, hard muscle and soft hair against her needy skin – all other thought fled and she gave a shiver of breathless satisfaction at the feel of his warm flesh pressed absolutely to hers. Shocking to her maidenly modesty, what little was left…but oh so very gratifying. She wrapped him tightly in her embrace, wishing to absorb every inch of him to herself, and reveled in his quiet groan.

"You are mine," he growled near her ear in a rasp. "You belong to me, Christine – only to me…you always have. You always will…"

His possessive words sent a dangerous little thrill through her soul.

"Say it, Christine – say the words! I must hear them from your lips."

"Only to you," she whispered in breathless plea. "Only yours."

"Again!"

"I am yours!"

"Until death and beyond…"

"Yes," she whimpered, "Oh God - please, my Phantom - kiss me!"

Supporting her head with both hands, he kissed her with a passion unbridled, stoking the fire that raged between them to a blaze that brightly smoldered. The strangeness to taste herself in his mouth vanished in a nervous instant as he shifted his lower body to press with insistence against hers. She felt his strong arousal, thick and hot, hard and silken, throbbing at the cradle of her thighs that he pulled so wide –

"Mine!" he savagely whispered, and with one fierce thrust, he merged them into union, an act of mutual desire that could never be undone. Sealing them together, the solid length of his manhood pierced chaste tissue, driving down without mercy to the tender depths of her core.

Every nerve and tendon within Christine tightened, and she let out a short scream of pained shock. The harsh sting of his rigid fullness bludgeoned her fragile center; she was certain he had ripped her open inside and she was bleeding. Tears she couldn't suppress flooded her eyes that she now squeezed shut, spilling through her lashes and over their corners. But instead of pushing him off of her, to rid herself of the unexpected burn as instinct commanded, her fingers pressed into his shoulders more deeply to keep him close. It made little sense, but despite the physical anguish he caused, she did not wish him to depart from her body or her bed…

But then nothing had ever made sense with regard to her close feelings toward this man and her need to have him near. If this closeness was what it meant to be his woman, his wife, then she would endure the suffering that went along with it to know the intimacy he had taught her - her teacher in every sense of the word, in everything that mattered…

He raised himself to look at her, his eyes and mouth opened wide in horrified realization.

"My God! You're a virgin…?"

She blinked in a haze of emotion, wondering why he presumed otherwise, then realized he must have thought she'd been fully violated by her cousin. His stunned words and experience made it clear he was not untried. But she knew that already, as early as her first day of her arrival to the theatre, later with the realization he had a son and his intimate knowledge of the maid – but in this perfect instant she did not care or wish to think about any others he knew before. Not when they lay entwined in the present, their vows at last consummated, and she experienced the baffling wonder of his abundance inside her.

Dear God, inside her!

The pain was not as fierce as when he first entered her body, slowly fading as he continued to stare at her face, a myriad of emotions flickering through his passion-darkened eyes. She could barely discern even one of them in her equally sensual haze.

It felt as if he filled all of her, as if he were a part of her very being! Christine had never experienced anything so painful and overwhelming that at the same time felt so absolute...so...incredible.

His hands shook as he moved to cradle her face, the dark fiery passion that earlier controlled them melting into a poignant warmth that made her heart clench as his manner grew extremely gentle and concerned, more so than she'd ever known him to be. A film of moisture coated his eyes and made them shine more golden – what little rim of that color remained against the pools of darkness that had enlarged and glowed like obsidian.

His eyes thoroughly fascinated her.

"Christine, ma cherie, had I only known! I thought …" He barely shook his head. "I'm sorry. God! - so very sorry …"

She nodded but couldn't help feel that his gruffly tender words of remorse held a deeper, hidden meaning. His discovery of her innocence appeared to leave him more shaken than she felt the matter warranted. He was trembling hard, his glazed eyes so full of sorrow and shame and shock that her heart twisted at his anguish, and she wished only to reassure, to tell him that she wanted this, that it was alright and despite the unexpected pain she wasn't the least bit regretful. But speech failed her, the waves of myriad emotions in experiencing this coveted moment far too great for words.

At last she would admit it: she had wanted him for so long, the feelings of need and attraction beginning to stir since the first week he brought her to his caverns, the very first day, if she was entirely honest with herself. The love had come later. God – she loved him! She could never have given herself to him otherwise. It felt liberating to at last let herself think it, and she ached for him to know the fullness of such truth. Ached for him to know that he possessed both her body and her heart. Even her soul, reawakened with his passion. She did belong to him, in every sense of the word.

With a tremulous smile Christine pressed her fingertips to his damp cheek beneath the mask, wishing to remove the soft, molded black leather but not daring to. She wanted him to learn that he could trust her with anything. She could not express her love for him and in the next moment tear away any hope for that trust by pulling away his disguise. One day she earnestly hoped he would believe in her enough to remove the mask of his own accord, to share at least that part of his identity with her, though she wanted to know him in full. He was so much more than a wanted criminal, he had become integral to her these past months. Until he was ready, she was resigned to wait, fearing that if she were even to ask him to remove his mask it would destroy this perfect moment between them, this connectedness they shared. And not for anything would she do that.

She sought for a way to speak her heart, oddly shy to acknowledge her newly discovered feelings aloud, though they lay naked in each other's arms and as close as two people could become. He had never expressed words of love or fondness, not so much as hinted at it. Indeed, no more than an hour ago she thought him averse to her as a woman. Clearly he wanted her physically, but what if he did not return her strong affection? Would it possibly mar this moment of deep intercourse to speak of love? Many times he had shunned and ridiculed the emotion as a weakness and a curse, and that memory made her hesitate to speak.

"It will feel better," he promised, a tear escaping to christen her cheek as his velvet-edged voice rumbled deeper and moved all through her. "I will show you …"

The fiery throb had faded to a dull ache, and she nodded in trust. Lowering his head, he tasted of her swollen lips in soft, unhurried kisses, the brush of his mouth against hers awakening a second time all the wonderful sensations he earlier aroused. His large, warm hand trailed up her body and the pad of his thumb brushed across the top of her breast. She arched against him in shameless want.

"Please," she begged, though she did not fully understand her plea. Only knew that he alone could fulfill it.

"Yes, Christine…my sweet, sweet Christine…"

Slowly, oh so slowly as if afraid to hurt her again, he began to move, retreating partway, only to gradually fill her again. His hand slid lower over her waist and hip. Cupping her side he slid his fingers to her bottom, sliding further along her skin to grasp her thigh and bring it up against his waist.

"My God, you're so tight," he rasped against her shoulder, his voice thick and awed.

"Is that…is that alright?" she whispered, a blush heating her face.

He groaned again, almost a cry. "It is perfect."

She smiled against his neck, grateful that even as untried as she was, she pleased him.

His movements within at first felt strange, her flesh still tender, but then –

Christine's eyes fluttered closed and she moaned at the delicious friction he created. Each long wet stroke became a firm caress inside that enlivened her blood and brought back the urgent need. He taught her to move with him, and she pressed her hands flat to the middle of his back, feeling the stripes of raised scars from a whip beneath her touch, further proof that he was a wanted man, in all likelihood an escaped convict. Even that sobering knowledge did not dampen her insatiable hunger to have her Phantom fully possess her in such a pleasurable fashion. And for her to possess him…

She would gladly embrace madness if only to keep him with her forever. She would embrace his dark netherworld if it meant that this could be the heavenly sum of their nights together. Never again apart. Queen Persephone to his King Hades. Only she would never leave him or allow anyone to take her from his side.

She moaned in need, overcome, as all conscious thought left, her only focus the man in her arms and the pleasure he instilled….

The Phantom employed every skill learned to prolong their passionate duet and disallow his greedy body to succumb to completion without her first experiencing the rich fullness of her longing. He adjusted their tempo to a richer, more gradual pace when his efforts to hinder his own need seemed in vain. A vocal lover, she groaned low and deep, a throaty exhalation of approval as she brought her legs around him, and he shuddered with the ecstasy, his senses likewise filled with the touch, sight, and scent of his intoxicating Christine.

She was the only taste of heaven in this hell he had known.

Their tongues sought and drank from each other with an exquisite thirst, the relentless ache increasing with each stroke of his hard flesh into her lush core, until the burning need grew extreme and beyond his ability to prohibit. He tore his mouth from hers, his strokes more intense, the dark passion to consume and be consumed returning en force.

Christine moaned as he thrust harder into her body that surrendered utterly to him. One with him - as if not only their bodies but their souls were joined. Their hearts. Dear God, yes! That' s how it felt! The mate of her soul, the all consuming fire of her life -

The pressure weighed heavily deep inside her belly, the urgency for release impossible to bear, and she dug her fingers into his back and cried out when a similar shattering force as before exploded within her loins…

"E-rik," she barely whispered on a stilted breath as the mammoth pressure loosened in a rush of sensation that shook her head to toe, only too late realizing whose name she uttered in her mindless bliss.

Either he no longer cared, or lost in their passion he did not hear, and she desperately hoped it was the latter, horrified that another man's name left her lips during such deep intimacy. She held her Phantom tightly while he never ceased pounding into her flesh. Her body trembled so from the litany of sensation, she could barely control it – when suddenly he clutched her hips hard, anchoring himself deep within her contracting walls. Shuddering, he groaned, his form going rigid as he hoarsely cried her name, his seed spilling into her womb, until spent, he collapsed against her.

Delicious warmth bathed Christine in its satiated glow, and she squirmed beneath her dark lover in rosy contentment, not even minding that his greater weight now pressed her firmly into the mattress. Being so close, coupled together like this, felt astounding … freeing.

After a moment, he shifted, making it easier to breathe, but did not leave her. They held fast to one another as their senses calmed, their hearts beating in parallel staccato while they relished each other's nearness. His lips languidly brushed beneath her ear while she ran gentle trails along his damp back. Thinking of nothing…believing in everything…

This was heaven.

"Christine, ma cherie," his words came low, slurred with sated passion and adoring. "Ma Petit Ange…"

Her hands froze on his spine, her eyes opening in confusion.

"Wh-what did you just call me?" she whispered, barely able to catch her breath.

He grew very still.

But she had no need for him to tell her. She didn't know much French, as well he knew, but she did understand those three soft-spoken words, some of the first she learned inside these caverns. Words that always had been to her a sweet comfort. Words that only one from her homeland had used as his special endearment for her.

Words that she last heard whispered in her own language over four long years ago …

Words that her Phantom never called her in his.

She wondered if in her lethargy of bliss she somehow heard wrong. Or if not, why he should now call her that, when he'd only ever called her his songbird. "Did you say what I think you di– "

With a suddenness that bewildered, he wrenched away from her with a quiet curse, rolling off her body and snatching his robe from the ground. Before she could think to call after him in troubled bewilderment, he swiftly exited her bedchamber...

As if to escape.

For breathless seconds Christine stared dumbly at the spot where he'd last been.

The dawn of blinding realization seared into her mind, helped along by a host of memories. Of tonight – and this morning – and a multitude more from the past one and a half months – each of them now mocking and glaring and rushing in to propel truth's emergence in a din of blatant clarity too horrible to believe –

Dear God, no…

No.

He couldn't!

He wouldn't!

NO!

He… He…

did.

A disbelieving, furious hurt whirled inside her heart, so newly recovered, tearing away the acute shock that fogged her senses. With grim purpose, she struggled up and out of the tangled bedding. Pulling her wrapper from the ground and around her nakedness, Christine belted it tightly, wincing at the tenderness of her loins, yet not about to let even that hinder her from racing after him in hot, angry pursuit.

This time he would not stop her –

his former threats be damned!

xXx

A/N: Oops! (muahahaha)... *runs