Author's Note: Poor Erik, I'm soooo mean to him. Do not worry! Spice will follow!

Warning: Implied (past) child abuse – nothing graphic

Beneath the Surface

How was it possible to feel so taxed by the emotional outburst from earlier that it made his spirit feel a bit lighter and more miserable for realization? While there was the opportunity for deeper musings, Erik lacked the energy and willpower to delve into those connotations any further. Instead, he lay on the sofa in his parlor, feeling drained of energy for no damn good reason.

This was not how the day was supposed to go…

He cracked an eye open when he heard the swishes of Christine's skirts and the tinny rattle of porcelain and metal on the tin serving tray. A small smile graced her lips as she walked with purpose in her stride, balancing a tea service in her hands.

"Christine, you did not need to do that."

"I wanted to," she chimed, then set the tray on the low accent table. "You planned a wonderful outing, and this is the least I could do to thank you."

"Wonderful," he scoffed.

Christine smoothed her skirts and knelt on the floor beside him, taking his hand in both of hers and looking him in the eye. "It was a wonderful outing," she pressed. "With charming company, beautiful music, and splendid views. Although things might not have gone as you wished in matters of conversation, I'm glad for it. I am so grateful to learn more about you," she kissed his knuckles.

With her hands still holding his, Erik watched her sweetness unfurl before he cupped her cheek.

"We can still end the day on a high note, Erik," she grinned, leaning in to steal a kiss from those malformed lips. "Several high notes," she teased between light kisses.

It took little to stir need within him. Her kiss was the sweetest intoxication he knew as each one they shared deepened and grew in impassioned momentum. He allowed himself to be swept into her loving spell when her hand came to brush over his unmarred cheek and her mouth trailed his jawline. Erik lifted his chin, granting more access for her to claim.

"You're a bit overdressed, Monsieur," she commented and worked his cravat.

Drawn out of his trance, Erik moved to sit up and help rectify that situation, until her hand pushed him back.

"You're always taking care of me. Let me take care of you…"

In his reluctance to be vulnerable again, he relented and allowed Christine to continue. She removed his cravat first to trail her mouth along his throat. The warmth of her breath tickled his flesh while delicate hands unfastened every button of his shirt and vest as they descended lower with gentle caresses and kisses down his thin cotton undershirt.

Erik wanted to enjoy the moment. He wished to savor every kind touch and kiss, but old torments haunted him still. His hands gripped the backrest and cushion of the sofa until his fingers turned bloodless. Every breath was short and hitched, though not for the reasons Christine might think. How could she?

The odd thing about sex for Erik was the need and the fear. To swim in the warmth of a woman and bring them to mutual release. Bestowing love on her was easy since he wanted to explore every inch of her in the promise of fulfillment and safety. He could give her everything without a second thought and satisfying thrusts. Claiming her body was easy.

Being claimed, was hard.

To become vulnerable to her in this way sent him reeling. Having her see him, touching him without…the security of garments was the harder feat. Erik shut his eyes and fought to focus on her intention. Not to harm…Christine would never bring him harm. His logical mind knew this. He wanted to enjoy the feelings and arousal she ignited with ease.

Trying to relish in the moment and not let his apprehension ruin her attempt to love him, Erik gripped the sofa tighter until his fingers began cramping.

He managed to let her do as she wished with sweet kisses and caresses for longer than expected. She finished unbuttoning his outer layers, kissing his gaunt stomach after pushing up his undershirt a bit to find pale flesh.

Erik swallowed hard.

Christine continued her small kisses along the faded scar of a failed stabbing, unseating the suspenders from his trousers while she did.

Still, Erik remained rooted in place.

Until her hand began trailing lower, over his trousers in a curious venture south.

Just as she was about to come in contact with him, though fabric still parted them, Erik could bear it no longer. His hand shot to hers in a snap and wrenched it away before his mind processed the action. Reality seemed to warp for microseconds. He was sitting upright with her wrist bound in his tight grasp.

Christine was staring up at him with wide eyes and a slackened jaw, her little wrist at his mercy.

Erik released her wrist as though it burned, but reached to touch her with gentle fingers before thinking better of it. "I'm sorry…"

"Did I do something wrong…?" she asked, sounding very small and timid as she rubbed her wrist.

Erik shook his head, "No," he rasped, his hand floating over her wrist and not daring to touch her. How could he hurt her? "I am so sorry, Christine. I did not mean to…"

She looked between her wrist and his watering eyes that shifted away, then shook her head. "You startled me, Erik," Christine moved closer to put herself into his field of view, which he avoided. "You haven't hurt me."

Still shying away from her eyes, Erik inched from her with hellish thoughts running rampant through him.

"Erik… please don't do this. Tell me what's wrong? What did I do? I…I know this is new to you, but I thought you were enjoying…?" she trailed off, uncertain what happened.

"I was."

Christine studied his rigid posture before she climbed up from the floor to sit beside him. "I don't understand."

"I am not… ready to be touched or seen in that way," he said stiffly. Although their night of passion in that other life was never far from his mind, darkness concealed him. He made love to her, and her hands were not as curious then as they were now.

Christine 'now' was a vibrant and curious woman. This was a pleasing adjustment, but an adjustment he did not expect in this manner. Perhaps it was inane to think that he would have acclimated to being touched in any positive way before she would ever work up the nerve to… handle him.

"You have seen me… and touched me. I was so very nervous, but I am glad it was you."

Erik's head fell to his hands, "That is not so simple for me, Christine. We have had… As far as I know, you have not…" Curse his inability to form a cohesive thought!

Christine reached to place a hand on his shoulder while her articulate Suitor stumbled over his words.

"The man who owned me in my youth did more than just carve my face," he spat out at last in a rush of breath, still refusing to look at her.

She remained silent, unsure of what he was saying. Yet, a part of her knew in a deeper sense. Although the formulated thought evaded her at that moment, she recalled a premonition from two days prior, before they delved into forbidden pleasures. The mental image of a secretive little box bobbing just beneath a watery surface returned, only this time, it was now floating into reach.

Something that he left unsaid, lurking just beyond her grasp.

Swallowing hard beside her, Erik pressed on with a dry tongue. "To people like him, the only thing that matters is that there is a warm body to use."

It clicked. Erik's need for her blessing to just touch her. Floating his hands over her form went deeper than just a deformed man whose touch was often rejected by his face alone. He needed her consent because that man denied him the courtesy. Then, came all of Erik's clever wording as he danced around the truth. She might be the first woman, but she was not his first…

"'Most men have not had my life experiences,'" she repeated his words in a whisper, peering into that dark secret that teased its presence before. "Oh… Erik. I wish you would have told me."

"It is not something a man readily admits, Christine. He was a sadist, and although I will not elaborate on what occurred, know that he was… largely unsuccessful."

Christine gave a small nod. "I imagine not, knowing you."

He cast her a shy glance with a brief wisp of a smile.

Winding her arm around his until she had their fingers intertwined between them, Christine leaned her head onto his shoulder. "How can I show you my love as you have done with me? You know I would never want to hurt you… don't you?"

Erik leaned his head towards her until he felt her hair against his ear, the mask blocking more contact beyond the pressure of connection. "I know that, but logic does not always conquer. You are showing me your love by just remaining here with me, Christine."

"But, you can make love to me without issue?"

"Giving and receiving are very different experiences. Showering you with my affection is easy. I want to cover every millimeter of you with my kisses and trace your every curve with my hand. I want to commit every part of you to memory, even the taste of you, and your scents." Tasting her brine and smelling its distinct scent was an unexpected delight that drove him to wanting more. Perhaps it was a natural sexual draw that defied current scientific explanation. Or was it the knowledge that his mouth and hands gave her such pleasure?

"I don't want to be the only one receiving, Erik," she murmured. "I would feel… I don't know, guilty isn't quite the word, but… it is?"

Erik cocked his head to the side, that brow twitching upward.

"I don't know how to explain," she mumbled in growing fluster. "I still feel bad about the kitchen; when you didn't get to—"

Erik turned toward her and his free hand flew to her lips where he pressed a finger against them. "I still enjoyed myself, Christine. There is no reason for you to fret about that."

"You don't understand," Christine sighed. Flopping back against the sofa, she released his hand so she could press the heels of her palms into her eye sockets in strange comfort.

He twisted more towards her as Christine resigned herself to her own sense of exhaustion. Erik took the moment to consider his response. While he did not understand this particular plight, he understood her nature better than anyone. "Perhaps not," he conceded. "But I know that you are honest and kind. You give much of yourself to not just those you care about, but those you barely know in this opera. It is a reason why I love you."

Dropping her hands from her eyes, she gave him a tired smile. "Then, you know that this goes for you— especially you." She sat up to frame his face in her palms. "It pains me to have you dote upon me, yet I am in a position that I cannot return the gesture? I cannot give you even a tenth of all that you have given me in every respect."

Long fingers rose to curl around her wrists as he moved to his knees on the sofa beside her, facing her head on. "You may believe that, Christine. But you have given me more than I've ever hoped or dreamed for by just being here. That does not count the fact of our courting status."

She caressed his unmasked cheek, which made Erik bow his head with a small sigh as he brought his lips to the hollow of her right palm.

"It might be more than you hoped, but it is my wish to give you much more than that, my Sweet Erik."

His eyelids tightened as he continued to keep them closed, a small tremble rippling through him as he kissed where he felt her pulse beneath thin flesh. Everything she implied became a desire to learn the deeper truth. How much love could she have for him? To experience that was to permit a different shade of vulnerability. A vulnerability that was little different from cracking open the dusty drapes of the library that stored the memories of his torments.

That crack was enough to allow a sliver of Christine's brilliant light in, which burned the cobwebs in her reach.

This was different in the sense that to be this open to her, physically, he was at risk for more pain and violation. Control would not be his anymore.

But he wanted her. He wanted the promise of her tender touch and expressions of love. As much as he wanted to run from her in that instance, he wanted to run to her as well. It frightened him in ways that he was unfamiliar with, for better or worse.

Christine would not bring him pain.

She would never hurt him, not by intention.

"Trust me," Christine implored.

Kissing her wrist again, Erik cracked open his eyes and brought his hand over hers more, needing this sliver of control. "I do. More than anyone else."

She smiled and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "Help me with this dress?"

He smiled, "Of course."

Minutes later, the pair moved to the floor in front of the radiant heat of the crackling hearth. Erik lay on the Persian rug that was just thick enough to offer a bit of cushion, bare from the waist up and lost in his beloved's kiss. Christine's hand wandered his chest and stomach in a curious exploration of his gaunt frame, never venturing below his abdomen. The thin chemise she wore was the only thing separating his hand from her skin that reminded him of supple flower petals beneath his fingertips.

Christine situated herself in a similar way to how she curled against him on the roof, only now the leg she had hitched over his hips was intertwined with his legs.

Although he savored her every touch, the presence and experience of such affection were foreign and thus, unnerving. Erik harbored no doubts that Christine felt the tension lying beneath his skin. The warm trail of her finger pads followed the twists and jagged marks of old scars that he acquired more through his juvenile years than as an adult. Though now, his affinity for being a Phantom made it harder for anyone to bring such cruelties upon him again.

Christine trailed her kisses from his lips to follow his jawline until she nuzzled into his neck. Erik was a hard man to read in this instance. Did he even enjoy her attempts, or was she worsening his enjoyment by pushing too much? She felt the rigidity in his muscles and knew he was trying to appease her wish. "I don't know what to do," she sighed.

Erik's chin brushed against her hair.

"I'm just going to make you uncomfortable."

His hand came to rest over hers on his chest. "That will take time, but… I know I want you and your touch. The only way I know how to adapt is merely to push myself into such situations, regardless." Erik's arm tightened around her back and coaxed her position a little higher until they were looking into each other's eyes, foreheads pressed together, although his mask was a partial barrier. "Allow me…" he squeezed her hand.

She nodded.

With a shuddering breath, Erik's hand tightened around hers and began to guide her down his body, watching her in his fit of nerves as they reached the waistline of his trousers. There, he paused only a moment before descending lower, over the woolen fabric.

"It helps that I ache for you, Christine," he murmured as he brought her hand to the bulge, ignoring his apprehension.

And ached he did. Oh, her Erik very much ached for her as she felt the rigid shaft beneath her palm. The gasp he made at the contact pleased her ears and brought a bit of comfort when his hand trembled over hers.

"Teach me," she whispered, not breaking eye contact with him although he became shy with the intimate touch.

He swallowed with a tentative nod, though he took relief in having control of her touch. It would be worth it. He would thank himself later for pushing through the fear. He was no longer that weak child. He was a grown man with the love of his life. "Gentle," he instructed.

Christine nodded.

Together, they worked the buttons of his trousers that hid most of his shape from her until they were parted, then, upon another nod from her, Erik let her untie his drawers too, then slide under the loosened cotton. Guided by his larger hand, Christine discovered his sex, hot beneath her palm.

Erik, in turn, issued an audible gasp with his eyes widening a moment, jaw slack and eyelids floating closed.

A smile escaped her at the sight. Erik's hand stiffened as it continued hovering over hers. No matter. Christine took her time feeling her way around his member, fascinated by it, a special thrill rushing through her and pooling in her groin. It was a strange thing to feel him, how soft skin seemed to glide along his arousal as she explored his length and felt his pulse ebbing in her palm.

When she slid her hand down to his base, she discovered the strange little ridges there were not like others before the skin texture changed and became fleshier, with two notable knobs buried within. In a gentle caress, she rolled those peculiar nodules between her fingers, visualizing it in her mind.

The small, nervous massage she bestowed upon him caused a groan to emanate from Erik's throat.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," Erik rasped. Her touch was glorious, better than he imagined in its warmth and gentility. Yes, he had taken care of his needs as necessary for years. To have her hand explore him, however, pushed away prior reservations rooted in unpleasantness. It helped to have control of her hand too…

Pressing his hand around hers more, Erik began directing her on how to handle his erection, coaxing her fingers to grasp him. "No tighter than this," he instructed in his guidance, "and variation is ideal."

Christine nodded after brushing her lips against his and absorbed his lesson on how to best take care of him with quiet explanations because Erik was always detailed. There was a dribble of a viscus residue at his tip that allowed her hand to stroke him in more mutual comfort as her own wetness was getting harder to ignore. She was here for him this time, wanting him to have pleasure and feel as good as he had done for her.

There was one thing that made her a bit nervous though. Erik's circumference prevented her thumb from touching any of her neighboring fingers beyond a fleeting brush, but her hands were rather small and dainty compared to most. In light of that, a childish jest sprang to mind, although the nerves were valid, "This is supposed to go…where?"

Erik's hand stilled as he chuckled. "It does not have to. Your hand is more than suitable to my needs."

"Your needs, but maybe not mine. Not when I'm burning for this," she grinned with a careful squeeze of his arousal and continued stroking him without aid, "to go there."

Erik melted beside her when she took control of his pleasure and continued to caress him, his eyes rolling back as he struggled not to succumb to her yet. "I can take care of you in the interim," the words floated out of him in more of a moan than he intended. He removed his hand to let Christine continue her intentions with him, resting it on his thigh.

"Later, I will take you up on that," she breathed into his ear and nibbled at the lobe.

He groaned an unintelligible response, his breathing deepening, yet somehow shallow and short in a rush of gasps.

Christine experimented with her grip and her pace in caressing him, delighting in his response and how he unraveled in pleasure before her.

"Oh… Christine… Christine," he chanted her name between breaths.

Smiling more, she nuzzled closer, peppering Erik's cheek with kisses until he gasped her name and caught her hand to still her motions. It took her a moment to realize she achieved her wish to pleasure him as he trembled beside her, and she felt his shaft spasm and pulsate in her hand. She did not steal a peak down, despite her curiosity.

Erik did not want her looking yet, and most of him remained concealed beneath cotton regardless. She had no intention of breaking his trust, ever. Christine loved him far too much to even consider such a horrid thing.

When Erik came down from the high of blissful pleasure that his beloved Christine took him to, he managed to pry his eyes open and gaze upon her with all his adoration. The beautiful smile that awaited him warmed his spirit, along with the sweet taste of her lips and more caresses across his chest.

Their evening was only just beginning.

Author's Note: A line that has always grabbed me in Final Liar was 'A fate that denied me the joys of the flesh...'

Well, here's a take on it. Maybe it's the delivery or just me, but it feels like: He might not have known the joys, but he knew its horrors. It also explains why some Phantoms are more shy/scared/nervous to touch Christine in their portrayals.

I wanted to delay this bit, but the last chapter didn't give me much of an option without straying off-course from what's coming next. No worries though! No more skeletons in the closet for a while between these two!