Quick warning that this chapter is not near as fluffy as the previous two, but I hope to make up for it later!

Please, please, PLEASE, don't forget to review. :)

Chapter 3- Attainment

If Christine had known what lied ahead of her as she descended the staircase for supper, she might have turned right back around, faked a splitting headache and not come down at all.

Of course, it was impossible to know such things.

Raoul had returned later that afternoon, and her heart had stuttered at the look on his face when he took in her low cut, deep blue ensemble and elegant hairstyle that Sorelli had helped her with. Perhaps seducing him would not be as difficult as she anticipated, she thought with a flutter in her belly. She had grinned inwardly when Raoul gave her a lingering kiss in greeting.

When they had entered the dining room for supper, Christine noticed Philippe and Sorelli already seated, close, whispering to one another at the table and laughing under their breath with subtle glances in her direction. That alone was enough to raise a nervous flush to her cheeks, along with merely being in the two's presence after what had transpired in that last day and night.

But all of that was nothing compared to what followed.

It began with a subtle comment on Raoul's part about Christine's work at the opera house, and Philippe had chimed in with an enthusiastic, "Oh, yes! Your Christine is quite the performer, brother." His wolfish grin very nearly made her spit out the sip of wine she had been taking. Luckily, she had swallowed in time and disguised the incident with a coughing fit.

When Christine could breathe again and Raoul's concern faded, Sorelli nodded in agreement. "Indeed, dear Vicomte. I have worked with Christine for a few years now; she is quite adept at picking up new skills."

Christine glared at the two of them, and then dared to steal a glance at Raoul. The poor, oblivious young man was smiling in glee, though there was definitely a bit of confusion in his shining eyes as he nodded. "Oh, why yes! Thank you for pointing that out, Sorelli."

"And her vocalization?" Philippe offered, stormy eyes sparkling with mischievous delight. "Simply brilliant. Excellent breath control, too."

"Mmm," Sorelli agreed, dark eyes fixed only on her. "Our Christine is such a people pleaser, is she not? You are very lucky to have such a woman." Her gaze switched to Raoul then.

At this point, Christine had been pretending to be very focused on her food, and she had to fight from choking with each startling comment from the couple in front of her, her cheeks burning as she stole glances at Raoul every few seconds. She could tell he was quite confused now, no doubt wondering what was with the sudden, profuse praise toward her. They had not been like this the previous night at dinner, and she could see him trying to read each of their faces. Christine's heart nearly stopped when he looked on hers, praying he could not clearly see how mortified she was.

She sighed in relief when he only smiled warmly at her, patting her leg once under the table in reassurance. He likely only thought she was being shy.

"I agree. I agree with both of you! She is wonderful. I am very lucky, indeed."

Oh, he was so handsome, so oblivious. She smiled back at him softly, until she remembered her seduction plans, and then she chewed on her lip nervously as her stomach flipped.

Throughout the rest of their meal, the constant, teasing innuendos persisted, and Christine never said a word. She was immensely frustrated with the older couple in front of her, and, of course, at herself for even getting in this situation in the first place. Her clenched fists in her lap shook and dewed with sweat, the blush never fully leaving her cheeks all throughout their meal. The room felt a hundred degrees, at least. Christine had thought she could trust the two to remain inconspicuous! She should have known they would have their fun at her expense…

The last straw was when Philippe had pointed out her profound silence. "Christine, are you quite all right? It is unlike you to be so quiet." She could have slapped that smirk right off his handsome mouth. Or kissed it in a passionate rage. She was unsure which she desired to do more, and that frustrated her to no end.

"Yes," Sorelli chimed in with mock concern on her perfect brow. "It is not like you, at all. You are always so ready to engage." Christine's mouth went dry as Sorelli licked her lips, slowly and deliberately.

When Raoul's own brow visibly came together in question, Christine shot up from her seat. "I need some air!" she very nearly shouted, and then cleared her hoarse throat, shutting her eyes in embarrassment to hide from the startled gazes she could just feel on her. "Pardon me," she said, quieter now, looking down at Raoul and not daring to meet the amused eyes of the pair on the other side of the table. "Raoul, would you accompany me outside, please?"

He immediately stood, nodding and taking both of her hands. "Of course, darling."

Raoul had offered to retrieve her cloak, but Christine had shaken her head, claiming that she was feeling much too warm and needed the cold night air on her skin. Which was not a lie. She was scorching.

They roamed until they were in the dark courtyard, lit only by a few dim lampposts and the crescent moon in the sky. Raoul guided Christine to a stone bench that overlooked the gardens and helped her sit, obviously concerned with her state.

"I am fine," she assured him, though a little breathlessly. "Simply too warm. Perhaps I…had a little too much wine. It will pass, I am sure."

"Sweet Little Lotte," Raoul murmured warmly, pressing a kiss to her gloved hand and then brushing her pink cheek with his thumb. "I know what this flush is really about. You are too humble. You could barely handle all of those compliments my brother and Sorelli were giving you!"

Amazed at his obliviousness, Christine looked away, smiling sheepishly. "Perhaps you are right. They…took me by surprise, is all." She hoped he could not hear how her voice trembled.

"Why would you be surprised?" His voice was low in her ear, for he had leaned very close, and his lips brushed the space just below it. "Everything they said was true." He kissed down the side of her neck, pausing to inhale, and his warm breath on her skin along with his fingers brushing the nape of her neck sent a shiver down her spine. Letting out a shaky breath, she vaguely remembered; wasn't she supposed to be the one seducing him?

"Raoul," she sighed his name when she felt his hand rest on her upper leg atop her skirts.

"Forgive me, Christine." His lips continued their sweet assault on her neck, not helping to calm her racing blood in the slightest. "I seem unable to help myself. You look so beautiful in blue, and, dear God, you smell so good."

Her hands found his shoulders, pushing him away from her just enough so she could bring her own lips to his, her fingers fisting the lapels of his coat. She kissed him hard, moaning, parting her lips to allow his tongue access into her mouth. Oh, he tasted divine, and she could feel his hand on her leg grasp the fabric of her dress in a tight fist.

When she eagerly pressed her body as close as it could get to his on the bench, he finally broke away with a gasp. "Wait," he said breathlessly. "Oh, Christine, wait."

Her cheeks heated in embarrassment and disappointment, but she still obeyed, taking deep breaths to calm herself as she pulled away from him.

Raoul himself also took a deep breath, eyes seemingly unable to meet hers for a moment. He wrung his hands together in a nervous gesture, and her heart seemed to pause when he produced a little, velvet lined box from his jacket pocket. "I must do this the right way," he stuttered, still unable to meet her eyes, which were now wide with shock and perhaps a bit of fright. "You deserve nothing less. And with the approval of my brother, well…" He finally met her gaze then, and there was so much hope and apprehension in his eyes that she felt her stomach twist painfully at the sight.

"Raoul," she breathed in warning with a slight shake of her head, but he opened the box anyway, revealing an extraordinary diamond ring that sparkled even in the sparse light of the courtyard. The sight of it took her breath away.

"Christine Daaé," he said, his voice shaking with nerves and emotion as he took her gloved left hand into his warm palm. "I love you. I promise to love you always. Please, do me the honor of being my wife."

Oh…oh, no. Oh God.

Her mind raced. Spun.

She had not anticipated this proposal so soon. Especially not now, in the midst of what she was going through, before she even got the chance to make love to him. Surely he would not insist on waiting until they were married, would he? She felt trapped and conflicted and terrified and unsure and…

He reached for her glove as though intending to take it off, and Christine panicked. He meant to slip the ring onto her finger!

"I…" she choked, pulling her hand away. "R-right now? You want to get engaged right now?"

Watching his face fall made her feel sick. "Of…of course. Why on Earth would I want to wait?" His voice was small.

She gulped. "I…just thought with all that is going on right now with my career and…and the opera house…"

"What do you mean? Christine, I would never make you give up your dream. You may perform all you like while we are engaged!"

"Oh, that is not precisely what I mean, Raoul."

She saw realization strike him, and he shook his head once, his eyes clenching shut for a moment in frustration. The air was tense around them. "Tell me plainly, Christine." Raoul spoke firmly, and her fists clenched in her lap. "Is this about him?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. Damn him for being right. "What if it is, Raoul? What if I am…afraid of his reaction when he finds out? Is that so wrong?" It was not necessarily a lie, but still, Christine had other obvious reasons on why she did not want to commit to Raoul immediately…and none of those were things she could ever tell him outright unless she wanted him to hate her forever.

He sighed, his eyes softening as he stroked her cheek again. "No. No, it is not wrong to fear for that. But there is no reason to, darling. We have not heard from him in weeks! If he is not gone or dead somewhere, what could he possibly do?"

Christine jumped to her feet, glaring down at him hotly. "Do you forget how he murdered in front of us? Or how he very nearly dropped a chandelier on me? There is no telling what else he could do!" Her sudden outburst startled the both of them, and they each were silent for a long moment following.

Honestly, Christine had been willing to forgive the Phantom for all he had done, understanding to some extent why he had done it…but it was as if she was suddenly just remembering everything. She clenched her eyes shut for a moment, trying to stop her mind from racing so fast. Perhaps she was being ridiculous. Perhaps she should just tell Raoul yes and accept the ring already…

But she could not. Not yet, at least.

She cleared her dry throat, troubled by Raoul's silence. "I only think we should wait a little bit…talk about this," she stammered. "That is all."

Raoul sighed, running a hand through his thick blonde locks in a frustrated gesture. "I do not see what there is to discuss. You either want to marry or you do not. It is as simple as that."

"Of course I want to marry you, Raoul! But it might not be the right time. I think we need to really think about this."

He could not meet her eyes for a while. "What then, Christine?" he finally muttered. "You know that I love you, and that I want you to be mine forever. Are you refusing my proposal?" The longing for her to say no was there in his voice, and she felt her heart squeeze painfully for not being able to give him the answer he wanted right then.

Oh, how had this night turned so sour so fast?

Slowly, she came and sat next to him on the bench once again. "Please, may we discuss this tomorrow, Raoul?" She placed a hand on his thigh boldly, and though his lips parted in shock and he looked on her briefly with something other than hurt and disappointment, he still, somehow, stood and stepped away from her touch after a moment.

"All right. Goodnight, then."

With his cold, clipped words, he strode away from her and to the house without a backward glance. She watched him with longing eyes, her face paling. It had not been her intention to hurt him. It was obvious that she had, for Raoul had always been warm and supportive and comforting and all too ready to calm her fears. And he had just walked away from her without a second thought, unable to even discuss her hesitations through.

She could not resent him for that, though, she knew. Raoul was right to be angry with her. She was even angry with herself.

Christine sighed heavily as she began making her way back inside, shivering now from the cold and crossing her arms together tightly in hopes for the friction to warm her. Thankfully, she made it to her room without running into Philippe or Sorelli. She had no idea how she would react to seeing either of their traitorous, lovely faces after the evening she had had. She would like to think she would be courageous enough to give them a piece of her mind after they had teased her so, but she was not unaware of the effect the two had on her.

She readied herself for bed mechanically, sighing sadly every so often. Though it was selfish, Christine could not help but be very disappointed by the fact that her plans for the evening were now ruined. She had been so caught off guard by the proposal that she had nearly forgotten what she meant to do. Visions flooded her mind of her intention to successfully seduce Raoul, how his sweet kisses would trail all over her skin, how his soft hands would touch her everywhere, how he would look without his clothing...

And how she would figure out if he were as untouched as she had been just the day before.

It was something that had eaten away at her mind from the moment Sorelli mentioned it to be a possibility earlier that day. Of course, most of it was only morbid curiosity, but another part of it was…if Raoul were not innocent, and they did end up becoming husband and wife, then Christine would not have to feel as guilty for the things she had done with the others. She knew it was an awful thought; she should feel horrible for what she had done either way; and she did! But still…

It killed her that she would not be able to find out. If only Raoul had waited just a bit longer.

Perhaps it was for the best, she thought with another sigh. She was still sore from the previous night after all, and though she still ached for touch from all of the excitement of dinner and Raoul's kisses, she figured at least she would have some time to recover before giving it another try some other day.

But oh, how she ached as she remembered Philippe and Sorelli's sensual teasing, as her mind still flooded with memories and fantasies, of them, of Raoul, of him…

She tossed and turned in bed, groaning in frustration and unable to lie still. Every time her eyes shut, she was unable to stop seeing Raoul's eyes behind her lids, darkened slightly with desire, and she could not stop imagining his hands on her. Though her own hands were much smaller than his, she grasped at her breasts with hesitance, pretending that it was him who touched her, biting her lip. One hand trailed down to her burning core, caressing herself over her bedclothes, and she moaned quietly.

"Raoul," his name was but a breath leaving her lips, and she found her hardened nipple, grasping and massaging between thumb and forefinger, the neckline of her nightgown having been pulled down to expose it to her touch. In turn, she rubbed herself more firmly; whimpering Raoul's name as she imagined he was the one giving her pleasure, and she could almost believe the fantasy was real. She did not feel alone in the dim bedroom.

And it was because she was not.

"Christine." Her eyes snapped open, and he was standing in the doorway, still fully dressed save for his coat, gaping at her, at what she had been doing right before his eyes.

She squeaked in embarrassment, sitting up quickly and covering herself with the thick bedding. "Raoul!" Her face was on fire as she scolded him. "What… Why didn't you knock?"

He did not answer, did not say a word as he fully entered the room and quietly closed the door behind him. Her heart raced in her chest as she looked on his face, which was startled, yet hungry and deliberating. She adjusted her nightgown until she was safely covered again, jumping off the bed and stammering a weak explanation of what she had been doing, but was cut off when Raoul strode forward with determination, not hesitating as his hands fisted in her hair and crushed his soft lips down on hers.

Christine swallowed his groan, her stomach fluttering as Raoul kissed her like he never had before. The kiss delighted her, but also frightened her just a little; as he had never kissed her so rough, so fast, so insistent…a stranger's kiss. There was no doubt in her mind that he intended to have her, and she would not refuse him, of course not. She had wanted this, all along!

So why did she feel so uneasy?

"Raoul," she gasped, breaking away from his mouth. He only moved his lips to her neck, where he kissed and sucked and licked. Her eyes rolled back into her head a bit. "S-slow down." The request was half hearted, and she clutched at his muscular arms.

"Christine," he groaned. "Oh, I was so angry with you. But seeing you touching yourself, saying my name…" He did not finish the statement, but moaned as he claimed her mouth again with a warm tongue seeking entrance. She welcomed him, her skin burning and her mind spinning, and before she knew it one of Raoul's soft, strong hands was grasping at her chest.

"You were not supposed to see that," she whimpered into his lips, shuddering from his sensual touch.

"Oh, I am glad I did, Lotte."

Moaning, Christine pushed herself against him, unable to get close enough even as his free arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him. Oh, how she could not wait to see all of him, to learn his body and give him pleasure as he learned hers.

But then, Raoul was already pushing her down, climbing atop her on the bed and pulling her nightgown up to her waist.

She jolted with a startled cry when his hand slipped from her breast and cupped her right between her legs without warning, his quick, insistent touch equal parts frightening and searing. Her head swam, and she could not think coherently as Raoul's mouth hungrily kissed down her neck. With his free hand, he yanked the neckline of her nightgown down, immediately closing his mouth over one hard, pink nipple. She shuddered, and then cried out when he sucked a little too hard than what was comfortable.

She felt his groan vibrating against her skin as he suckled, and she writhed underneath him as he was still massaging her center firmly. It did not hurt, but she wished he would be just a little more gentle, slower, overwhelmed with sensation as she was. Just as that thought crossed her mind, Raoul inserted two fingers into her eagerly, causing a startled cry to burst from Christine's throat.

The sound seemed to break him from his determined haze, and he released her breast from his mouth and looked at her with wide eyes. "Does this hurt?" he choked, glancing down at his hand against her, and without thinking Christine shook her head no.

It was in that moment, a moment too late, that she realized how stupid that had been. When she saw the pained, horrified, and almost angry realization on his face, she knew she should have lied to him, should have nodded her head yes. That is what a virginal girl would do, no doubt. She should not be taking his delicious invasion so easily.

But then, just as quickly as he had snapped out of it, he snapped back in, and his mouth crashed down on her again with a growl. The warmth of his fingers slipped out of her, and Christine's heart raced in her chest as she vaguely realized Raoul was fumbling with the fastenings of his trousers. Wait, she wanted to say. This was moving much too fast! He was still fully dressed, and she was still wearing her nightgown…

She held her tongue, instead tangling it with Raoul's in their heated, urgent kiss, her hands working to remove his waistcoat and shirt. She did not have time to register just how fast Raoul had freed himself, did not realize how ready he was until he was already shoving himself inside of her, his rock hard thickness breaching her and forcing the breath from her lungs in a shocked, pained gasp.

Yes, there was pain. She was already sore, and Raoul seemed to be larger than Philippe had been. Her thighs spread apart, Raoul's sturdy weight atop her; he drove into her with a passion she had never thought him capable, her still tender sex burning for relief, in more ways than one. However, there was also an intense pleasure slowly building, and Christine could not find the courage to stop him, finding herself afraid of this Raoul who so easily took her so roughly, and being afraid of herself even more for…enjoying it.

What had Sorelli called it that morning? Ah, yes. Fucking.

They were fucking, she realized.

When the pleasure-pain built to the point where she could not think anything at all, she broke their kiss and cried out intensely. His release followed, as well as a tortured cry of his own, his sweaty forehead pressing to hers as he trembled and gasped above her.

Their breathing eventually slowed, and Raoul removed himself from her and she winced, her thighs immediately pressing together as he adjusted his trousers and shirt. She adjusted her own nightgown, sitting up on the bed and noticing how Raoul's posture was tense, how he would not turn to look at her. She heard a shaky sigh leave him as he stumbled to the end of the bed and sat, his back to her, his elbows leaning on his knees as he stared into the fireplace.

Christine swallowed, her eyes stinging as she watched his heavy breathing. She felt very cold all of a sudden, a sort of aching hollowness making her hug her arms across her chest as if to hold herself together.

It was not supposed to be like that.

That one thought echoed through her mind for a very long time, as well as the memories of Philippe's slow gentleness, of Raoul's frantic roughness, of how she had imagined it to be. How it was supposed to be. Disappointment flooded her, and she wished for the chance to turn back time, to do it all over again. Differently. Tenderly.

"You have done that before."

Raoul's voice was quiet and small, and Christine almost thought she had imagined it. But his head was slightly turned in her direction, still not looking at her but enough that she knew he had addressed her.

She had not realized she had been crying until she spoke, her voice hoarse and thick, "So have you." She quietly cleared her throat, wiping fast at the moisture falling down her cheeks.

It was not an accusation. Neither of them were. They were simply facts discovered by the both of them, and now they had laid it all out. Christine thought she might have felt better about Raoul having not been a virgin either…but she only felt empty.

"Who?"

Christine's heart stopped at his question. He could not truly want to know… She did not want to know who he had been with previously. "Raoul," she muttered in warning.

"Tell me," he rasped, turning his torso to look at her. His eyes were wild and agonized, but the determined set of his lips told her that he would not give up.

"You do not want to know," she breathed.

His eyes shut, a long gust of air leaving his parted full lips. There was a prolonged, tense silence between them, and then, slow and sure and tortured, "I…I think I know."

Her heart rate quickened, her palms beginning to sweat where they clutched her upper arms. No, there is no way he knows… Her mouth dropped open, but no words came, and she could only stare at him with frightened eyes.

"Him. It was…the-the Phantom, wasn't it?" He spat out the words, and he looked at her like he already knew her answer would be yes. Like he already believed it himself.

Christine chewed on her lip, avoiding his gaze. Would it be so terrible to let him believe that? To believe that she had lost her virtue to the opera ghost when she had really given it to his own brother? Which would be less painful for Raoul to grasp?

It did not take long to decide.

"Yes." The lie slipped out easily, though more tears spilled over when she looked at him, finding his face shocked and heartbroken and…pitying?

He nodded once, slowly and painfully, and rose from his place on the bed. She thought he would leave her then, but he went to her, sitting close to her and pulling her into his arms. She took the comfort she did not deserve, offered what comfort she could give, and they both cried quietly in each other's embrace for a while.

Christine had not meant to fall asleep.

When she woke, she was alone, and she was dismayed to find that the empty feeling had not subsided as she had slept. Her body was stiff and her womanhood ached, and she could hardly bear to walk to the window and see if it was an acceptable time to begin the day. The early morning sky was overcast and dark grey, and she inwardly scoffed. How fitting. She rubbed at her raw eyes vigorously, and set to ready herself and gather her things for her journey back to the opera house. Back home.

As she mechanically washed and dressed, she remembered her and Raoul's hushed conversation after they had cried themselves out the night before. She had decided that they needed some time apart, and Raoul had reluctantly agreed. They both had much to think about, to deliberate, and only time alone would allow that. Still, Christine had a gut feeling that her and Raoul's relationship was over, not seeing how either of them could heal from the discoveries their night together had brought.

A large breakfast was brought to her room by the time she had finished packing, and the servant took her things to be taken to the cab that would deliver her back to the opera. She figured Raoul had something to do with the breakfast, and she was touched. If she was being honest with herself, Christine was very surprised with Raoul's tenderness toward her after her false revelation about the Phantom. Perhaps he thought she had had no choice in the matter. Was that why he had looked at her so pitifully, and then held her so tightly?

Or perhaps it was guilt for the way they had…fucked.

They had not made love. They had fucked.

That fact still stung a bit.

Christine ate only a little bit, not having much of an appetite, and checked herself in the mirror once more before leaving. Her dark, wild hair framing her face only emphasized her paleness, and her eyes were puffy from her tears the night before, dark circles below them. She was a mess, truly, but she did not care. She only wanted to be away from this extravagant house that would never be hers, away from the people who had given and taken so much in such a short amount of time.

With a heavy sigh, she donned her cloak and turned to leave the room, jumping when she opened the door and found Raoul waiting for her. He jumped too, his posture straightening and his throat bobbing with his nervous swallow. He looked as exhausted as her, his hair messier than usual. She stared at him in question, waiting, and he cleared his throat before explaining, "I came to say goodbye."

Christine nodded once as she stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind her. "I see."

"Did you enjoy your breakfast?" he asked awkwardly, and Christine's stomach twisted. That one hopeful, simple question was so endearing and it only made it harder to leave him.

She bit her lip, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Yes, thank you."

"Good, good…" he said, wringing his hands together nervously. He seemed to deliberate for a moment, looking at her with wary, sad eyes, and then he was crushing her to him in a desperate embrace, and she had to hold back the tears that wanted to fall. "I will be in touch," he murmured thickly into her hair. "I…I love you, Christine. Do not forget that. And you may contact me whenever you are ready to see me again. You understand?"

She nodded against his chest, whispering, "Yes."

His pressed his lips to her hair and released her, and she squeezed his hands in hers before turning to leave, unable to meet his eyes.

"Christine…" he stopped her, hesitating, his hand slowly reaching for her before he thought better of it and dropped it to his side. "I am…I am so sorry." He shook his head, his voice trembling. "Last night, I…it was not supposed to be like that."

Her heart squeezed painfully, and she gave him a small, sad smile. "No, it was not," she whispered.

He visibly swallowed, his brilliant eyes shimmering with tears. He reached for her again, this time allowing his hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Lotte…" he breathed.

She stepped forward; pressing her lips to his in a quick, desperate kiss, knowing it would likely be their last. "Goodbye Raoul," she rasped, and with that, she turned and made her way across the hall and down the staircase with haste, unable to fight the tears from spilling over any longer.