Author's Note: After a long protest of this site's…issues, I bring you this update. This Chapter was originally Posted only on Ao3, Nov 7th, 2023, during my little strike. Thank you to those who followed me over there.

Also, in that time, my Beta and I have gone through and Edited EACH Chapter up to this point. All the little Errors were—irksome. They Should be all gone now.

Newer Chapters will be posted every couple days here until we're all caught up.

Midnight's Reprise

Christine did not know how long they slept in each other's embrace. It soothed her spirit to have him so close, and the contact of their skin heightened that feeling. She wanted to stay in that moment forever, even though her body had other demands that were becoming difficult to ignore. The problem with the small bedroom was that the bed they shared had to stay tucked into the corner, and she was on the side which pressed against the wall. She did not want to wake Erik, but trying to amble over the footboard was just as likely to disturb him.

When she clenched her womanly regions to stymie the sensation begging for relief yet again, Christine's stomach took that as an opportunity to rumble its own demand.

Christine felt his muscles flex beneath her cheek and fingertips, then heard the sharp intake of air.

Well… Erik was awake now.

"Erik," she whispered, tapping a finger on his chest.

There was only a brief pause as his arms tightened around her before a groggy vocalization, "Hmm?"

"I need to… I have to use the water closet."

Another pause, before a noise that resembled a hummed, 'oh,' as he released her and slid out of bed.

With passage cleared, Christine sprang from cozy bedding and flew from the room, leaving a chuckling Erik in her wake.

As she darted into the lavatory, Christine nearly slammed the door behind her in her immediate need to find sweet relief.

"You did not have to hold it on my account," his amused voice trickled through the door.

Christine sucked in her lips and felt a blush heat her cheeks, which she found herself constantly doing around him. "You were sleeping so soundly," she called back with a grin.

There was a faint scoff in response.

When Christine returned to the room a few minutes later, she found Erik's discarded clothing disturbingly absent. In turn, her dress and undergarments were neatly laid out over the back of a chair in the order that she would need them. On the bed, Erik had laid out a cotton nightgown and a plush robe for her.

She glanced down at her exposed flesh, feeling more confident than she expected. But then, she had done more than she ever planned on doing with a man that she was not married to. A man who did not take her virtue, although she was willing. Still willing…

Though he made his feelings clear, Erik wanted commitment. In truth, that was her wish as well. One love, one lifetime.

Yet, the small, nervous part of her was still hesitant in throwing herself at him. Her body certainly craved him. Nevertheless, it was not lost on Christine that he was on his very best behavior around her. That was not to say he was ingenuine around her. If anything, her relationship with Erik was the most authentic one she knew. While she had many friends throughout her young life, and a found family in Annette and Meg, those relationships did not compare.

She recognized his honesty and appreciated his attempts of being open with her. There were things he kept hidden of course. She sensed those, but just as she knew there was more to his life's story than what little he divulged, Christine understood those facets would take time to come out.

In order to be confident in going into such a commitment of love and companionship, she needed to learn more about him. She had to peer into whatever darkness lingered beneath the surface.

Christine loved that man. She loved him more than she could ever put into words or even comprehend to the fullest extent. There were no misguided notions of expectations that she harbored about him, which took effort to ensure. While a part of her was ready to throw herself into their strange connection blindly —without a second thought— the other part reigned her in and held her back with whispers dancing through her mind.

Wait…

Be patient…

Know him. Understand him…

Only then, can you be happy together.

That internal dialogue of a small, sexless voice kept her restrained from leaping in headlong. It kept her aware of herself and inspired her to remain prudent in considering her thoughts and feelings. How could she understand him when she still struggled to truly understand herself?

While Christine resolved herself to take her time in building this relationship with Erik, she was not about to pause what they began either. Not a chance. She plucked one of the garments he laid out for her, adjusting her state of dress with a specific intent in mind, and went in search of the man who made her silly in the best of ways.

Christine stepped barefoot into the tiny corridor of the 'second' floor, where his bedroom door sat across from hers. The door to the lavatory was to her right, between the rooms, and the stairs were to her left. She loved that narrow staircase. It was made of smoothed stone and spiraled down to the main floor, with candles tucked in small, window-shaped outcroppings. It reminded her of whimsical and gothic castles in some enthralling, medieval tale.

The main floor was dark, with a few candles flickering dim light and a fire crackling in the hearth, making the smile on her lips widen at the sight. Erik was beyond sight, but he was there in a faint and merry hum. She followed his melodies towards the hallway she knew led to the kitchen, her fingers tracing the seams between the cool, stone bricks. His home truly was a kind of castle, one that lay beneath the world, and they were the only ones who knew of it.

It only took a few steps, and she was at the turn which opened into the tiny kitchen. She found him there, working on something unseen at one of two small countertops. His back was turned, and he was wearing that silk oriental robe of black and blue. Foreign patterns and embroideries were stunning in their details of golden scorpions, dragons, and other things she could not identify with confidence. Interwoven in those patterns were stunning and rich shades of green, blue, and red.

A strange steepled cap adorned the top of his head, hiding most of the thin wisps of dark hair that sat unevenly about the back of his neck. It did not surprise her that it was trimmed just enough to keep concealed beneath the usual wig, nor that he was likely his own barber.

On the counter beside him, Christine smiled when she spied the basket with the remains of the demolished cardamon bun. "Was it good?"

Erik glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before resuming his task, slivers of his white half-mask catching the candlelight. "Exquisite, and you did remember the sugar."

Christine grinned.

After a few moments of arranging something, Erik turned to the cozy little corner table where he set down a plate filled with an assortment of fruit, cheese, and jam on the polished surface. The presented dish had an assortment of delicious soft-formed cheeses such as muenster, reblochon, and camembert. With it were also two small ramequins filled with treats, one containing a bit of plum jam and the other containing a mixture of dried fruits. To finish off the plate, there were sliced apple wedges, perhaps a bit overripe, but considering they were in the last vestiges of winter, it was a miracle to have any 'fresh' fruit at all.

"I hope bread with cheese and jam will suffice," he offered as he turned away to retrieve the sliced baguette wrapped in linen that he had warmed.

"Any butter?" she asked with a hopeful lilt.

He looked at her with a raised brow, "But of course, Mademoiselle. What kind of host do you take me for?"

Christine chuckled when he reached behind him and brought out a butter crock, setting the new additions on the table for her. Next, Erik stepped to the side and pulled out a chair for her as any proper gentleman would. With another smile pulling to life, Christine kissed his exposed cheek before taking the offered set. "You spoil me."

"If you consider this 'spoiling,' then I am curious how you would describe my future endeavors to pamper you," he replied, as he kissed the top of her head when she was properly situated. "Wine?"

"Please," she replied, delighting in the fuzzy tingling their interaction inspired within her. There was a deep temptation to part her robe in coquettish fashion, just to see what he might do next. However, the emptiness of her stomach won out. For now. "What time is it, by the way? I forgot to look."

"About one in the morning," Erik answered after uncorking a new bottle of Pinot Noir. "I apologize if the apple is too granular for your tastes," he commented, pouring two glasses of wine and bringing them to the table with the bottle as he joined her. "It will not offend me if you decide you don't want it."

"I would hate to waste it," she said as she began picking at her plate. "None for you?"

Erik shook his head as he sipped his wine. "No. Your gift was quite filling, and I made certain much of what is on your plate was of proper quality."

"Is that a polite way of saying you were snacking without me?"

A wry grin flashed over his features, "I will admit, I was quite ravenous."

"And you've had enough to hold you?"

"My appetite is more of necessity than an indulgence. While I will enjoy what appeals to me, I only consume enough to satiate and little more. Your cardamon bun is perhaps the exception, as I found myself thinking about it whenever there was a spare moment."

"It is only a bun," Christine replied slyly. It was a gesture of her growing fondness and that she was a bit sweet on him. Granted, that was a notion etched in stone now.

"I have read much into the matters of courtship, Christine; for both perspectives. That notion aside, it is the first time anyone considered me enough to gift me something, much less make that gift. As such, your bun was quite meaningful."

"Is there a topic you have not read about?" she asked as she savored a slice of reblochon and followed it with a sip of wine.

Erik's lips pursed together, with a glint sparkling in his eyes and a wry smile starting to form. "Child rearing."

Christine choked a stunned laugh that nearly made her spit wine. She would have spurted it everywhere had she not clamped a hand over her mouth. A maroon napkin materialized in Erik's hand as he held the linen out for her. Christine took it and wiped her hands and mouth, stifling a few errant coughs.

"I imagine that is a matter that I will need to change if things continue to progress," he added, still smirking at Christine while she recovered.

She shot him a look for pressing onward, and while she was currently unable to respond immediately, she threw the soiled napkin at him. He caught it, chuckling.

"Mmm hmmm," she vocalized, in the clearing of her throat. "I thought you said you did not want children."

"Which is why I have not read such literature," he smirked. "Though, it would be unrealistic of me to believe preventative measures will be completely effective. It will also dampen spontaneity."

"What we did a few hours ago was preventive and fairly spontaneous," Christine replied and picked at the last bits of her plate, having enjoyed every bite, including the overripe apple wedges.

"I think we both agreed that was more gratifying than satisfying," he replied as he rose to collect her plate, although she kept the ramequin of jam to finish the bread basket.

"I suppose you are right about that…" she sighed and loosened her robe when his back was turned.

"There are things that I can do, that may bring you more satisfying results," he said, tidying up the counter and returning the remaining cheese bricks and wheels to the icebox.

"What things are those?"

"Things that are best demonstrated than explained."

A scandalous idea forming in her thoughts, Christine rose from her chair, allowing her robe to slip off. Gathering up the bread basket and the jam, she stepped towards Erik and the ice box until she stood before him.

When he glanced up from his task, he gave a small jump and dropped the cheese wheel into the icebox. Christine grinned at that, knowing he expected her, just not her complete state of undress. Yes, even her drawers were gone, having been abandoned upstairs before she decided to seek him out.

Having his gaze feast upon her made her feel both powerful and excited. The sensation was almost as intoxicating as his affection, which emboldened Christine to dip her fingers into the remaining jam and then spread the sweet and sticky amber across her breasts. She had Erik's full and undivided attention by this.

"I don't think you had enough," she teased.

His mismatched eyes of the faint, near-colorless blue and its opposite neighbor that looked nearly black in dim lighting, met hers with enflamed passion. "I was saving room for dessert," he wittily replied before he lurched forward and captured her left breast with his mouth

A moan escaped her with a flurry of tingles climbing up her spine as he meticulously and lovingly cleansed her breast. She pushed her pelvis towards him, tossing his cap away before removing his mask and setting it out of the way. Upon the removal of his mask, Erik switched to her much-neglected right breast now that the risk of getting it covered in sticky sugar was gone.

Erik grasped her breast as he sucked hard on her nipple, and his free hand slipped around her to slide down her back until he grasped a cheek of her backside, pulling her hips fully against his. It was more than she managed alone, without his supportive hand holding her. She felt the bulge there, teasing her.

Christine bent her head forward as she possessively cradled his head to her bosom. Intertwining her fingers in his thin hair, she trailed kisses atop his head, before she closed her eyes to embrace all the sensations that rippled through her. Her leg hitched over his hip to feel more of that hardening bump that was just waiting for her.

Erik wanted to claim her. With every fiber of his being, he wished to rid himself of the black satin sleep pants he wore and plunge deep into her warmth. He desired to sink into her and never leave, to stay joined forever as they ground their hips into bliss.

Not yet.

One day…

Instead, Erik buried his face in the soft mounds of her breasts, now wet from his ministrations of finding and licking away every bit of plum jam from her. He had half a mind to add more, but he had other plans. It was not a lie when he said he was saving room for dessert. He just sought to guarantee his beloved had a suitable meal first. He would start preparing her for that inevitable future and give her the comfort he failed to give her in that first tryst, from another time.

Erik shifted their positions and hoisted her up onto the counter. Once settled, Christine's hands fell from his head to open his Mandarin robe and shove it from his shoulders. Their lips met in their hungered kisses as he freed one arm from the robe and flung it aside with the other before he briefly framed her face in his hands. They indulged in tender moments of their love, his hips grinding against her equally eager ones.

She was at the perfect height to free himself and thrust.

No! he argued the impulse.

To manage himself more, Erik sank to his knees with lines of kisses and caresses down her body. Oh! A bit of missed jam! He simply could not leave that unaddressed!

Erik licked the errant bead of sweet plum from beneath the pleasant heft of her breast, enjoying the of bit salt that came with it from her perspiration.

Christine was mewling from his attentions, her hands in his hair and pulling at it just enough that Erik found it very enjoyable. However, when he descended lower and took in the bud of his beloved's femininity, she pulled harder and her thighs tightened around his head. How very ready she was for him.

"Oh!" she gasped. It felt so strange and yet… "That… is… don't stop."

Erik grinned and continued working that sensitive nub with his mouth, pinching it with his lips and exploring every fold with his tongue. For his safety at the mercy of her lovely legs, muscled from dancing under Annette's guidance, Erik moved his arms so her legs rested over his shoulders and hugged his arms around them. He would rather caress her with his hands than restrain her from squeezing him too tight, but alas, he was not about to complain. His hands managed to stroke her thighs, listening to her breaths and moans as a guide to learning what she liked most as he experimented with his mouth.

Christine was at his mercy as he more than sent her into new levels of pleasure, his mouth making new discoveries she had not even dared imagine. Erik both filled her ache for him and made her need him all the more. Those distorted lips only enhanced the sensations he was delivering to her as he brought her to the edge. She brushed one hand over his fine hair and clutched her breast with the other. Erik kept her rooted to the counter, though not in an unpleasant way, especially when those long fingers massaged her legs.

Then he went lower, teasing her entrance before delving inside. It felt weird, but at the same time, she was not about to complain as another rush of pleasure ran through her. She still teetered at the edge of climax, and in her fog, she opened her legs more to him in want of continued discovery.

Christine's legs fell from Erik's shoulders as she rose to full height and brought their lips together again. His kisses made her melt and the world disappeared, even as she tasted herself on his tongue. However, reality pricked at her senses when one of his hands grasped her by the small of her back, and the other caressed the small, fatty pooch over her abdomen.

Their kisses ended when he tilted his head to better look her in the eyes, his hand drifting lower to the thatch of curls and then her folds. Every motion of his fingers was so loving and tender as he sent wonderful chills through her.

Christine's hands brushed through his strands of hair and rested at his neck, tracing patterns around the bumps of his vertebrae.

His hand worked her slowly, and Christine rocked her hips toward his digits, especially as they slid lower until he teased the rim of her entrance in circular motions.

Her hold on him tightened with a moan, especially when his thumb worked that pleasurable button. "Love me," she murmured, breathless.

"Always," he answered, his voice sparking more delighting chills and a finger sank into her.

It did not bring as much sensation as she expected, or even the same level of stimulation. Then, the second finger crept in with a stretch that made her grow tense and caused Erik to freeze.

"Don't stop…"

"Are you uncomfortable?" he asked.

"I…" She was both, yet wanted more. "It's… strange…"

Erik kissed her temple and began to withdraw his fingers.

Christine shook her head and tightened her arms around him. "Don't."

Another kiss, this one lingering, before he whispered. "Try to relax, my love…"

She did, and slowly worked on relaxing down there – which was easier in theory alone. Regardless, she welcomed the presence of both his fingers as they eased in as deep as his hand allowed, and he began a gentle, pulsating rhythm, while his thumb continued to work at her very sensitive nub.

He soon had her at the precipice of pleasure again, in the varied pace and deep pulses. Erik's mouth claimed her neck in a mixture of kisses and gentle nibbles, with the heat of his breath driving her arousal. How easily he drove her to madness in need by stimulating everything to near perfection, even with the simple caress of his hand along her back!

"Erik," she whimpered, as the rush came. Christine leaped over the edge in a wonderful wave that made her body shiver and tremble. As she floated along the waves that rolled through her, she hugged him tight, with her face burrowed into the crook of his neck, and enjoyed the intoxicating feeling of completion.

When his arms encircled her, Christine's legs wrapped around his slim hips, and she issued a contented sigh.

"Are you pleased, my love?" he asked.

Christine nodded into his neck with a contented sigh and the soft, sensual press of her lips. "Very…"

They enjoyed the moment in each other's embrace, enhanced by the soothing melody that she heard and felt him hum. Christine smiled, with her hand coming around to brush over the vibrations from his larynx. "Such a gift," she complimented. "I never tire of your voice. You could read the dullest book or string random, nonsensical, words together and I would be content to listen."

"I do not believe I'm capable of the nonsensical," he answered in good humor, his voice thoughtful and light. "Though, I will say that your voice has an identical effect on me; the most wonderful and sweet honey."

"You flatter me," Christine smiled, her hand on his sternum now, tracing a scar as her mind wandered over their evening. Then, she jerked her head up to look at him with wide eyes. "What about you? You didn't get—" How could she forget his pleasure?

Erik pressed a finger to her lips and gave that tiny head shake. "I did not, nor was I planning to have one."

"Hardly seems fair."

Another small head shake, and he cradled her cheek in his palm. "You underestimate how happy it makes me to bring you pleasure, Christine. There is still much for us to learn and explore, and I am in no rush to find each secret desire outright."

"Still…"

"Do not dwell on it," Erik intoned, grasping her hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. "I certainly am not. Now come… it is late, and if you permit me, I would like to resume holding you as you sleep."

Christine smiled and scooched off the counter, "I would like that very much."