Chapter 9: In Dreams He Came
"I'm thinking we should go out tonight, just the three of us", Élodie told the two women across from her as she took a seat beside Christine at the dining hall.
Christine had been the first to sit and was already scarfing down her food gracefully while Meg and Élodie had just raised their utensils from their napkins.
Meg stabbed a carrot with her fork and raised it to her mouth. "I agree. It's been a while since we've had the chance to go out together. Rehearsals have been weighing us all down".
Élodie hummed in agreement as she sipped at her soup. "I have been wanting to visit the patisserie down Rue Scribe. We wouldn't have to walk far in the bitter cold".
"I like that idea. What do you think, Christine?" Meg turned her gaze over to Christine, who was scooping the last of her vegetables off her plate. "Christine?"
"Hm?" Christine looked between her two friends, who eyed her suspiciously.
Élodie placed a hand on her shoulder. "You seem in a rush tonight. Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine. Why do you ask?" Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Élodie's brow quirked upwards.
Meg crossed her hands in front of her on the table. "Your head has been in the clouds all week!" She leaned closer to Christine from across the table.
Christine could see a mischievous glint in Meg's eyes, and she dearly hoped Élodie would not pick up on it.
And thankfully, she never asked regardless of whether or not she noticed it.
"Dear God, it is freezing out here!" Meg squealed the moment they stepped out the back entrance of the opera house. She pulled her overcoat tighter around her and Élodie tucked her gloved hands beneath her own.
Christine was suddenly glad he had forced his cloak back upon her to keep.
To keep.
The entire scenery around them was still cloaked in the white snow that had emerged from the storm she had been conveniently been caught in all but a week ago.
The three women walked arm in arm down the street in the darkness of the winter evening, the street illuminated a soft yellow from the store lights that lined down Rue Scribe.
Carriages moved slowly down the icy roads and faint laughter could be heard from other groups afar from them.
Strong winds pushed them forward and they stumbled in their steps as they hastily raced briskly to the patisserie at the corner.
"How are you not shivering, Christine?" Meg shrieked as she rubbed at her arms.
Christine eyed her, feigning innocence as she said, "what makes you think I'm not?"
Meg rolled her eyes incredulously, and Élodie laughed.
"Perhaps she's reveling in the heat from the mystery man whose bestowed his cloak to her", Élodie teased, and Meg howled with her.
She could feel a blush rising to her cheeks at the comment and a smile tugged at her lips, but she said nothing more as they approached the store, where a man swiftly opened the front door for them.
Upon entering the store, their senses were flooded with the smell of freshly baked loaves of bread and desserts, which were put on display in glass cases.
Each dessert was decorated in a multitude of colors with fruits, jams, and other garnishes. All the desserts were lined up beside each other neatly.
"Élodie, look! Aren't those the madeleines you were telling me about earlier? The ones drizzled in chocolate?" Meg grabbed ahold of her arm and Élodie nodded eagerly, leading her over to the display case across the room.
"See over there! The baker is bringing out a fresh batch. We must have him bag them for us before he places them in the case!" Élodie pointed to the man donning an apron, who was rounding a back corner of the store with a weaved basket in hand, filled to the brim with fresh baked sweets.
As the two women fawned over the fresh goods, Christine found herself drawn to a glass case away from them with white circular sweets adorned with a variety of fruits and nuts.
The edged of the sweets were tanned, and a white ring sat outside crumbled nuts and glazed raspberries. Others besides it had strawberries, blueberries, and others she couldn't quite place the name for.
"See anything of interest, Mademoiselle?" A younger boy asked as he stood from behind a nearby counter. He brushed his hands off gingerly against his apron, and flour was streaked across his face beneath his eye.
Christine pointed to the dessert in the case. "What is this right here, the one with the raspberries atop of it?"
"That is a cheesecake. The crumbling around it is a mix of almond and peanuts. It is quite popular, often sells out rapidly. Would you like me to wrap any up for you?"
Christine eyed the other sweets in the case and shook her head. None of them looked as appealing as this. She had only gone out to buy one for herself as a treat, but upon remembering her lesson in the morning, she found herself becoming fond of the idea of purchasing one for Erik as well.
She wondered if he was ever able to experience going out to the market to buy things for himself. Surely he has things he requires to sustain himself. What other use would he have for 20,000 francs a month?
He could live a life of luxury for a lifetime with all of that money. Or perhaps he would use it to further develop his music room, to expand it. When she had first seen the room, she had been taken aback by the many instruments he had obtained and kept on display in such a pristine manner.
He had shown her great kindness in offering to teach her every instrument she wished to learn. She couldn't begin to imagine the length of time it would take to master just one. She would repay the favor in what little she could currently do.
"I'll take two, please".
The three women left shortly after making their purchases, and Meg and Élodie already had their sweets in hand, nibbling at the edges.
Meg handed her Madelaine out to Christine. "Would you care for a bite?"
Christine shook her head. "No thanks, I am still stuffed from dinner".
Christine walked ahead of the group and opened the back door to the opera house, letting the other two in ahead of her.
They were immediately met with muffled laughter coming from the dorms upstairs, and they looked between themselves warily, but Élodie simply shrugged her shoulders.
"Let's join in on the fun. Perhaps it is another story about the Phantom!" Meg turned to pull at both of their arms, and they reluctantly followed her upstairs and into one of the larger dorms, where all the corps de ballet gathered on beds and on the floor around Charlotte, who sat cross-legged on her bed.
Charlotte was the only ballet girl with short rich brown hair that came down just below her ears. Her eyes were an ocean blue and her skin resembled the pale wax of a candle.
The moment they stepped foot in the room, Charlotte's eyes darted to Christine and she rolled her eyes before continuing with the story she was telling. The three moved to the corner of the room.
"La Carlotta could be heard gasping from her dressing rooms, and no one dared approach her door. Then minutes later, Ubaldo Piangi walked out!"
Almost everyone in the room gasped, raising a hand to their chest or mouth, followed by laughter.
Charlotte raised a hand, and everyone quieted. "And the next day, he was cast into the role of Don José beside her Carmen! Oh, the irony!"
One of the girls in the back of the room raised her hand. "What do you mean?"
"Didn't you hear?" Another girl beside her said, "Don José is infatuated with Carmen as Carlotta is with Piangi! But in the end, Don José kills Carmen. Surely this is a sign that their courtship is doomed!"
"The wrath everyone shall face when he breaks it off with her!" Said one girl.
"She will shed the tears she has made us cry!" Went another.
One of the older ballet girls stood up from the other side of the room and pointed to Christine. "Christine will put her in her place, just as she had before!"
Christine held her hands up in front of her. "Do you believe Carlotta will allow Piangi to play such a role? If she is truly that infatuated she will have wished for a happy ending between their characters…" she trailed off.
Charlotte snorted. "As long as that prima donna has the spotlight and adoring fans lining the outside of the opera house, she will be satisfied. Piangi is but a tool to her".
Some of the girls hummed in agreement, and Christine decided she had her fill with gossip for the night, and left the room while Meg and Elodié stayed behind to listen to more.
Once Christine arrived back in their room, she tucked away the small cheesecakes and undressed, slipping into her shift and placing herself in the warmth of her comforter and sheets. She breathed in deeply.
Rehearsals had become intense as they neared closer to the first performance, which was set in only two days' time. Every day she felt as if her feet would give out on her, and she had not even received a pair of pointe shoes yet.
Over time, Christine convinced herself that no matter how hard she tried when she danced, she may never actually wear a pair.
Her daily schedule was tiring and left her with so little energy before she was to sleep and awaken the next morning to restart the whole routine over again.
It made her contemplate what the daily routine of the opera ghost was. Perhaps it was delivering threatening letters and leaving small details out of place to convince the entirety of the opera house staff that he was more than a mere specter or figment of imagination, gossip, and rumors.
Christine's eyes fluttered shut and she drifted off into a fitful sleep.
"Christine….Christine"
"Christine!"
Erik's voice jerked her out of her dazed state and her face snapped over to his direction, where he sat at the piano bench with his arms crossed over his chest and a disappointed look on his face.
Christine placed the palm of her hand against the side of her face. "I'm sorry, Erik", was all she could muster.
Concern lit his features as he stood to move closer to her. "What is the matter? Is something troubling you? You have yet to maintain focus on any piece this morning", he pointed to the musical score that stood on a stand in front of her. "What is on your mind, my dear?"
Christine shook her head, but it seemed to only make things worse. "Nothing. Let's continue".
"That is the second time this morning, Christine", Erik raised a quick hand to her face, but she swatted it away as if it were a threat. Shock flashed through Erik's eyes momentarily.
Realizing what she had done, Christine murmured an apology.
"My dear, I hope that is not how you hit on other suitors", he jested, but his tone held no amusement.
She felt the urge to smile, but as her mind continued to swim, the thought quickly vanished.
Christine did not protest when he stepped closer and brought his hand up again.
His cool hand met her forehead and Erik clucked his tongue. "You're warm", he placed a hand on the middle of her back gently to usher her forward. "Come".
She was acquiescently led out of the music room and she turned to him. "Erik, let's just continue, I am fine", she lied. All she needed was to get through the next two days and everything would wind down.
"You are not perfectly fine, my dear". He retorted sharply.
Christine nearly jerked back at the seemingly hostile response. "I'm sorry", she spoke placatingly.
She heard him inhale deeply as they rounded into the foyer and started up the winding stairs. "It is not you I am disappointed with, Christine. It is myself for failing to see your visible decline in health", he admitted.
Guilt began to creep in, and Christine's head hung low in shame. She should not have come here today. She had imposed on him. She wasted his time by coming to a lesson feeling unwell.
Leading her up the final steps, she walked beside him down a short hallway, which only consisted of three doors. In a blink of the eye, the left door opened and Erik's hand returned to her back, urging her forward.
Christine was in awe of the elegant simplicity of the bedroom. A canopy bed with crimson sheets and ornate white pillows sat in the middle of the room beside a nightstand holding a candelabra. A dark wooden armoire stood adjacent to the bed on the opposite end of the room, and an armchair rested next to it.
For a man who lived in solitude, he had very elegant tastes. Perhaps this is what 20,000 francs bought him. She also briefly contemplated how on earth he managed to get all of his furnishings transported down below the opera house. It was certainly by no means, an easy feat.
Looking around, she noticed that none of the furnishings had a speck of dust on them, and a sudden thought came over her and she spun around. "Is this place your-?"
"You need not fear, my dear. This is a guest room", he reassured her, his hand running smoothly in circles on her back.
"Oh" was her short reply.
He guided her over to the bed and gestured for her to sit, and she wordlessly did so.
"I will bring up some tea for you, and then you will rest. I will write to Antoinette informing her of your absence today", he stood to leave the room but Christine reached out, grasping the sleeve of his tunic.
"But the production begins in two days! How could I even begin to make up for missing a rehearsal so soon to opening?"
His eyes bore into hers softly. "They will find a way to work around it. It would be morally reprehensible for anyone to practice or perform in such a sickly state".
Christine's grip on his sleeve loosened and her arm dropped to fall beside her. What would everyone think of her? Was it because she went out with Meg and Élodie last night? Oh Gods, what if they had fallen ill too? The opera house would be out three members of the corps de ballet! Monsieur LeFevre would surely-
"Monsieur LeFevre wouldn't dare do a thing. Not if I have anything to say about it", his words were laced with revulsion.
Christine blushed, realizing that she had spoken aloud, and Erik took that moment to take his leave.
He paused in the doorway. "The bathroom is the door on the left at the end of the hall, should you require it".
"Thank you, Erik. But if I may ask, why do you do so much for me? Why do you take such care of me? More often than not, I feel that I am an overwhelming burden on your shoulders…"
His hazel eyes met her fiercely and he knelt before her, grasping her cool hands in his warm ones. "You have never been a burden, Christine. You are a star Christine, the only star lighting my night sky. You have brought light into my darkness. You have brought the sun to a monster who never thought he would see the light again".
Christine's eyes flew open in shock to the repulsive, abhorrent term. "You are not a monster, Erik. This face doesn't define you!" She tugged a hand out of one of his to run it along the masked side of his face.
Erik shook his head in disagreement. "Oh but I am a monster, Christine. I have done things, monstrous things you could never begin to imagine".
Christine continued to caress his masked face in her hand. "I hope someday I can prove to you just how worthy you are of everything you deserve".
His expression changed to one resembling a wounded animal. "But I will never be worthy or deserving of you. It is clear that you pity me, and I do not want your pity".
"It is not pity, but compassion", Christine moved from the edge of the bed to sink on the floor in front of where he knelt before her. "Don't you see that you matter to me?"
His eyes were filled with a whirlwind of emotions as they searched hers for traces of deception, but found none. "Do you sincerely mean those words? I… matter to you?"
She nodded quickly. "More than anything", she affirmed.
Christine raised the hand that still held hers and brought it up to her cheek, and she leaned into his hand. A choked sob tore from Erik's lips and she pulled him close to her, wrapping her arms around her fallen angel.
It became clear to Christine that Erik had never been shown an ounce of love or kindness in his life. But now she was here, and she would give him all that he deserved.
A sniffle from Christine had him backing away and helping her to sit back on the bed.
He cupped her cheek gently, and his thumb ran across her flushed features. "I will be right back, my dear".
Erik turned away and strode out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him quietly.
Unknowing of how much time she had until he would return, she hastily undressed until she was left in nothing but her shift, and she neatly folded her clothes and placed them at the foot of the bed before climbing under the crimson sheets.
The material was warm and inviting, and she buried her head into a pillow, willing her head to stop swimming. Christine breathed deeply, inhaling the faint scent of mint and cinnamon. Within seconds her eyes had already begun to weigh down.
And then there was a knock at the door. "Christine?"
"You can come in", she replied groggily into the pillow, which came out muffled.
The door slowly creaked open and Erik walked in with a tray holding a kettle and mug. Moving to her bedside, he placed the metal tray down soundlessly on the nightstand. He lifted the kettle and poured tea into the mug, steam flying up from its spout.
He held the mug out to her. "Drink, otherwise you shall wake with a sore throat. That is the last thing your precious instrument needs".
She could see the quivering in his hands as she sat up and the blanket slipped down, revealing an ample amount of pale skin. She took the mug graciously. "Thank you".
Erik turned away, perhaps hoping it would preserve her modesty. After several minutes in silence, he cleared his throat. "I will leave you to sleep. I shall be back later to check on you. I will be in the music room, should you need me".
"Erik?" Christine called out to him.
Erik turned to face her, his mask gleaming in the candlelight. "My dear?"
"Downstairs, in the music room next to the piano is a fabric bag. Could you please bring it up for me?" She couldn't possibly allow her sickness to go without its reward.
Erik left the room and returned moments later with the said bag in hand, and he placed it on her lap.
"Thank you, Erik". Christin unwrapped the knot in the top and gingerly plucked the dessert from the bag and handed it to him. "It's for you".
A confused expression crossed his face as he was handed the small wrapped object and he eyed her as he unwrapped it, revealing the raspberry nut cheesecake. "Oh, Christine".
Christine looked away as she felt blood race to her cheeks. "I went to the patisserie with my friends last night, and when I saw it, I thought you may enjoy one. I was unaware if you were able to obtain one because of…" Christine trailed off, not wanting to make him feel any worse.
"My mask? Do not worry for me my dear, I simply peruse the stores through different means". He replied casually.
She automatically considered that he was speaking of his mysterious alias qualities and Christine's eyes jerked to his. "Surely you don't mean-"
Erik nearly laughed at the reaction plastered across her face. "Nadir does not aid and albeit in theft, my dear. The Daroga is a former police chief. He helps me obtain the things I cannot on my own by legal means, rest assured".
Christine nearly snorted into her tea at the last part, and she was thankful the mug hid her smug grin.
How had she found such pleasant company in such a wanted man?
She reached back into the bag, pulled out the second cheesecake, and held it up before him. "We shall have to eat them together after I rest for a little bit", Christine rubbed at her eyes tiredly, and she placed the sweet back in her bag and placed it beside her clothes at the foot of the bed.
Erik placed his in the bag as well and gathered it back into his hands. "I will store it in a cool place to preserve it".
Although she could feel sleep tugging at her mind, she called to him again. "Erik…Would you sing for me?"
She remembered Christmas, and how he had serenaded her to sleep with his voice. It had been the best night's sleep she had since her father passed.
"I can deny you nothing, Christine".
Warm hands pushed her shoulders back against the pillows and the duvet cover was pulled over her, enveloping her in warmth. "You say those words all the time, 'I can deny you nothing'", she sighed.
In the candlelight, she could make out his figure coming to sit beside her, and she turned to lay on her right side to face him.
His fingers brushed away the stands that had fallen over her face and her eyes fluttered shut as they traced over her facial features. Her eyebrows, her eyelids, her nose. Her lips.
"It is the truth", he spoke softly.
A small intake of breath was followed by his voice flowing gracefully through the room, and Christine placed her hand on his where it rested on her cheeks, holding it there and intertwining her fingers with his.
His music was indescribable. It was like trying to explain how walking on water was possible, or how cats lived nine lives.
It spoke to her in a way that was both mysterious and seductive. It flowed through her as music flooded her veins, seizing all of her senses and leaving her helpless to resist its power.
His voice was a deep, rich, dulcet beckoning to a part of her she longed to explore. A side that gave into the temptation of tantalizing, immodest, and provocative thoughts, actions, and desires. Crossing a threshold where innocence was left behind.
The candlelight from behind her closed eyes flickered into darkness and she succumbed to the music that lulled her to an imaginative sleep.
"You matter to me too, Christine".
When Christine awoke, her eyes had already adjusted to the darkness of the room. The wax of the candles had long run cold and hard to the touch, as was the kettle that still sat on the nightstand.
Much to her relief, her throat remained clear and painless and she no longer felt disoriented. Perhaps he would allow her to continue her lesson in her improved state.
She reached for her dress at the edge of the bed but found it to be replaced with different silky fabric. Holding it up before her, she could make out the thin dark fabric with a sash to be a robe. What use did he have for her clothing?
She pushed the heavy covers away and slipped her arms into the sleeve of the robe before tying it around her waist. It was cool against her warmed skin and she nearly sighed at the feeling.
Her bare feet met the wooden floor and she padded across the room to the door, opening it and peeking into the hallway. "Erik?"
The house was silent, and Christine stepped out of the guest room and started down the stairs. She believed it very likely for him to be in the music room, and so she strode down the foyer and rounded the corner.
Placing an ear up to the door to the music room, she could not make out any sounds emitting from the other side. Regardless, she knocked quietly before entering. "Erik, are you in there?"
Upon opening the door, Christine noticed that all the candles were still lit, but Erik was not found inside. Christine frowned. Had she slept so long? Perhaps he was walking about the theater attending to other matters?
Christine decided to wait for him in the drawing-room, and so when she entered the room, she stoked the logs in the fireplace, reigniting the flames. She curled up on the armchair beside it, reveling in the warmth.
Minutes after she had come to sit in the armchair, she heard a clicking sound in the foyer, followed by hushed voices.
"Antoinette looked about ready to behead me on the spot as she read your note in front of me. She is deeply disappointed that you didn't allow her to take care of her".
"They would not have gone to the lengths I have to ensure her immediate and proper care, Daroga".
"And I disagree on that. Antoinette cares for her as her own-" Nadir began before he was abruptly cut off.
"As she does for the rest of the corps de ballet. She cannot stop now two days before the performance to care for her", came Erik's annoyed voice.
She heard Nadir release a long sigh. "I understand, Erik but", Nadir's head turned sharply towards Christine as her head peeked over the back of the armchair. "Ah, Mademoiselle Daaé, it is a pleasure to see you again", he tipped his hat in her direction and Christine meekly waved from over the back of the chair.
Erik appeared from behind Nadir and brushed past him to kneel on the floor by her side. Concerned hazel eyes gazed into hers as he placed the back of his hand across her forehead. "How are you feeling, my dear?"
"As if I was never sick at all. Perhaps I just needed the rest", she told him earnestly. His shoulders relaxed slightly.
"You certainly needed the rest my dear. You slept nearly eleven hours".
Christine jerked forward and Erik's hands flew toward her forearms as if expecting her to fall. "Eleven hours? I must return at once!"
"I agree", Nadir said.
"Absolutely not!" Erik admonished.
Erik raised a dangerous brow in Nadir's direction and he held up his hands defensively.
Nadir took a step closer to them and Christine watched as Erik moved to stand before the back of the armchair. "Erik she doesn't belong down here".
"I believe that is for Christine to decide", his head tilted towards her slightly. "What do you wish to do, my dear?"
Christine stood from the chair to Erik's side, and she watched Nadir's eyes widen as she placed a hand upon the same spot he had guided her earlier on his back.
A coy smile fitted her lips. "I would like to finish my lesson where we left off if that is alright Mon Ange Noir".
Erik cleared his throat, squeezing her hand and walking over to the front door. "You heard the woman, Daroga. We will continue our conversation another time. I thank you for visiting", Erik hurriedly escorted Nadir out the door.
Nadir looked over to Christine with a defeated look, and she could only smile as the door shut behind him.
Christine leaned against the back of the armchair and giggled, slapping a hand over her mouth at the hilarity of the interaction.
But she did not anticipate Erik striding over to her and pulling her into his arms, and bringing her tightly against him.
And then his breath was upon her ear. "You are a vixen, Christine Daaé".
She stood on the tips of her toes to whisper back into his. "And you are an opera ghost, Monsieur Erik", she replied playfully.
A low growl emitted from his throat and he lifted Christine's form to sit on the arm of the chair. He now towered above her and she lifted her head high to meet his smoldering gaze.
Her legs moved to skim the sides of his, and her hands sat on both sides of his waist to keep her from falling backward into the cushion.
One of his hands moved to tangle in her unruly curls while the other rested underneath her arm, his thumb brushing the side of her breast lightly. Christine gasped lightly at the contact and pushed herself against him in response.
She could feel the warmth of desire begin to pool in between her legs at the provocative position they were in. Gods she wanted him. She wanted him to hold her tight and she wanted him to take her places she couldn't begin to imagine.
She wanted to give in. If only just a taste.
And she took a step into the shallow end.
His hazel eyes swirled with restrained lust and Christine snaked an arm around his neck and nudged him a fraction closer.
"Christine…" he told her in a warning voice. His eyes clenched shut and his body went rigid as he held himself back.
"Mon Ange". Her hands moved to rest on his cravat and his unmasked cheek. His eyes peeled open slowly and Christine could see the conflict in them.
He gripped her to him fiercely. "What do you want, Christine?" The thumb that rested on the side of her breast applied more pressure, and Christine could feel them tightening against the fabric of her shift.
She tugged restlessly on his cravat as his finger drifted closer to her hardened peak. "Please, Erik!" she pleaded. "You. Only you!"
Any resolve Erik still had within him shattered as he forcefully pulled her hips to his, locking her legs around him. "Hold onto me, my dear" he purred against her. Christine's arms flew around his neck and she was swiftly lifted from the couch and he moved them out of the drawing-room.
Her eyes never left his as he brought her into the music room, the door slamming shut behind them.
"Are you sure, Christine?"
She could only nod desperately. There was a soft click behind her and Christine was suddenly on the piano, her shift and robe hitching up as she moved back to sit comfortably.
"I want to hear you sing for me".
Her heart pounded madly against her ribs and her breathing hitched as his hands cupped the sides of her throat. Christine's head arched up to meet his demanding eyes that burned into hers.
His smooth fingers ran across the junction between her chin and neck.
"My Angel of Music".
One hand cupped the back of her neck and another gripped her hip, pulling her flush against him.
Christine gasped sharply at the contact and she ran a hand up his chest to wrap underneath his arm and settle on his shoulder. Her other hand reached up to caress the bare side of his face. Her thumb moved slowly across his cheek.
"Erik".
She trembled in his grasp and felt the arousal strengthen in her lower belly. It felt as if her body was being lit in a passionate fire of lust, attraction, and something more…
He dipped his head into the spot where her shoulder and neck met, and his warm, rough breathing fanned against her skin. Christine pulled him tight against her, even closer. Her hand moved from his face to wind around his neck.
Erik skimmed his hand from her hip to her thigh and the hand that had once held her neck now gently gripped her curls. With a slight pull, her throat was exposed completely to him and he pressed his warm lips against her skin. With a slow drag upwards, his teeth grazed along the sensitive skin.
Christine's eyes rolled back as he continued his passionate assault on her neck. She could feel the warmth spread between her legs. She instinctively hitched the leg where his hand rested on her thigh on his hip.
"My Christine…"
She could feel him softly nip at her neck and her lips quivered in response.
"My Angel of Darkness".
She moaned the words softly in his ear, and his kisses became fiercer, and the teeth against her skin rougher. She pulled him tighter against her and his hips jerked against hers. Christine threw her head back and cried out in pleasure as a hardness met the source of her warmth through her shift.
"God, the things you do to me, my angel".
Christine's mind fogged over and gave her body complete control. She gripped his cravat and tugged it down, allowing it to fall to the floor beside them. She hastily unbuttoned the top of his tunic, revealing a sparse field of thin hair. She lowered her head to the exposed skin and kissed it tenderly, and an insecure part of her wondered if she was doing it all wrong.
But then Erik moaned from above her, and she took it as a sign to continue. Her mouth moved up his collar and her tongue tentatively flicked out on his skin, and he jerked his hips towards hers again, spurring a moan from both of them.
She wasn't in the shallow end anymore.
The hand fisted in her hair moved to push the hair away from her ear and the hand that rested on her thigh moved to open her legs wider and he thrust against her again. And then his tongue traced the shell of her ear, and she gasped loudly, pressing him as close as he could come to her.
"Please, Erik, more!"
Christine cried desperately into him. She was unsure what specifically she wanted, but all she knew was she wanted more of him. She needed more of him.
"Is this what you want, my Angel?" He growled, thrusting himself towards her center, and she nodded helplessly. Christine trembled as his hips repeatedly snapped back towards hers, her heart pounding relentlessly.
She could feel the hot coil in her stomach begin to tighten as his pace moved quicker. Christine wrapped her legs around his hips tightly, her lips parting as she buried her head in his chest. She could feel a rumble emit from Erik's throat as his lips remained on her ear, sucking and nibbling at every untouched spot.
Christine felt herself coming to a crescendo and she felt him pull his lips from her ear. He thrust harder against her and her head flew back to meet lusty hazel eyes. She reached her hand up to his bare cheek and caressed it, a bead of sweat slipping from his temple onto her finger.
"You are mine, Christine. Mine! Do you hear me?" His words were possessive, and he gripped her skin tighter, and his pace grew frantic.
"Only yours, my Angel of Darkness!" Christine moaned loudly, her eyes still fixed on his.
"Oh God, Erik I'm…." Christine couldn't begin to find the words to describe what she was experiencing.
"Come for me, my Angel!" His rough melodic voice commanded. Christine felt herself come undone and her eyes closed, sparks lighting behind her eyes and her lips parting ever so slightly.
Seconds later, Erik froze above her, his head lowering to her shoulder as he panted deeply. Christine shuddered beneath him as they came down from their slice of heaven.
"Well if he has the audacity to send you a single red rose every week as a sign of his affection, and then he doesn't believe you share that same affection for him, then he is a blind fool".
She recalled Meg's words from before, and there was no more denying the attraction between them.
She was Christine and he was Erik. And this was real.
"Erik", Christine whispered. He pulled away from her shoulder to look her in the eyes.
She could see the lust leave his eyes as he gazed at her, replacing itself with what looked like guilt. He began to back away from her when she grabbed his collar, tugging him back to her.
And then her lips descended on his, her eyes fluttering shut.
Christine kept her lips on his with the hopes he would return the action, but when she did not feel his lips move, she pulled away, guilt beginning to seep into her.
She nervously looked up to his wide eyes that looked her over.
"I'm sorry, Erik…. I shouldn't have kissed you without asking first". Christine slipped off the piano and a hand covered her mouth to stifle a cry that threatened to rise up as she turned and moved towards the door.
But then she was swiftly spun around by strong hands and Erik's lips met hers forcefully.
Dear Gods, he was kissing her!
Christine's tongue flicked over her lips to dampen them against his dry ones and he pulled her lower lip into his with gentle pressure.
She reached for his hands and intertwined them together, and he gripped hers tightly in response.
Their ragged breaths blew harshly against each other's faces and Christine couldn't help but giggle at the feeling of it brushing along the edge of her face in the outline of his mask.
Erik pulled back from her, and she could feel him grinning along her lips.
"My dear, I think-"
"We should eat our cheesecakes?" Christine finished, her stomach rumbling.
Erik chuckled. "A brilliant idea".
He pulled at their clasped hands and led her out of the music room to the kitchen, and their shameless laughter followed them.
Hello, Lovelies! I loved writing this chapter. I've never written fluff like this before, so I hope I did this scene some justice. I intended for this to be a slow burn, but Christine and Erik seemed to have other ideas in mind. Anyways, Phantom was spectacular in the first row! Best night of my life! I also slipped a few easter eggs from Waitress, so let me know if you spot them! Feel free to leave reviews because they make my day so much brighter to read them! Until next time.
Your Obedient Servant
-Emma51020