Author's Note:

Content Advisory: Sexual Activities in-bound.

True Intimacy

Erik took her to the Louis-Philippe room, where strategically lit candles made the warm auburn hues of the mahogany furnishings seem to glow in invitation. It was the only suitable room where they could explore in proper comfort, rather than a sofa or the floor. The Christine of that past life was as much a virgin as he; however, he was somewhat knowledgeable. The Christine who stood before him now, with her back turned, knew even less.

Her complete inexperience meant nothing to him, even if it might inform his opinion of a certain rival of being both greedy and lacking. Not a problem for Erik, as he would set a very high standard that few men seemed capable of matching. In truth, seeing what transpired between harems and the poor Petit Rats of the ballet, the girls without contracts and seeking a patron for financial support, Erik had little idea of how a loving husband might treat his wife.

There was no frame of reference to operate with, but Erik knew precisely how he wanted Christine to feel. While he lacked the nerve just yet to confess his unfaltering love, he would damn well show her.

It started with a kiss. Then two. Three… a whole trail of them going down the curve of her neck as his fingers danced over the buttons of her dress, leisurely parting worn material. Erik reached her shoulder with the slow drag of his kisses when the last button came undone. For her, he was a patient man as his hands came to rest on her shoulders at the seam where her dress met skin, while he brought his twisted lips to her ear to whisper, "Remember, your voice matters to me."

Christine gave a nod and offered the curve of her neck more to him. "Don't stop."

Erik took the hint and nuzzled into her neck with feathery kisses to match his touch, while his thumbs curled under the seams of her dress and slid it off her shoulders, down her arms, and to her waist. At her waist, it took a little more effort to push it off her hips, where it fell into a heap on the floor. He grasped her hips now with a firmer hand, and Christine leaned back against him with a pleased sound escaping her larynx. Though it was tempting to explore her torso now, Erik's hands followed the unfeeling edge of her corset, his fingers brushing over the chemise parting him from her skin, as he felt his way to the laces of her corset. When his fingers found their mark, he tugged the long strings of the bow and freed the first knot in a single motion, while the second knot took a bit more effort.

Although Christine did not tight-lace to permit breath for singing, the tension was still present until he loosened the last knot, and the garment relaxed. Erik then wrapped his arms around her to find the lowest hook that kept the corset on her and eased the burden of donning such a ridiculous contraption. Christine melted back into him, her delicate hands coming to rest over his as he unhitched each hook from waist to breasts, sending the corset to the floor as well.

Erik did not claim her bosom once the rigid and unfeeling barrier fell away; instead, his hands came to rest over her stomach and abdomen, his touch light and gentle. "There you are," he murmured into her ear, as he marveled over her warmth through the damp chemise.

Christine's hands remained over his, although she trembled in his embrace in growing tension, not that he blamed her when she wore nothing but her thin cotton chemise that stretched down just below her thighs and her drawers, which ended at the knee where it met stockings. Her breathing was rapid, yet she did not issue one word for him to stop either.

"Your comfort, Christine," he reminded and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Touch me…" she sang in a whisper to his serenade.

"Trust me…" he crooned in return and began to sway with her in a gentle rocking rhythm, in tune with the silent melody that played in their spirits and the growing stiffness of her posture, relaxed. As she did, Erik let his left hand drift upward, towards the hollow between her breasts, feathering his touch to near-floating grazes. "Savor each sensation…"

Christine trembled again, and her fingers tightened around his when he skimmed over her breasts to rest just below her clavicles. How could something she craved also frighten her so much? A touch she yearned for now was suddenly within reach, and a small part of her was ready to flee. She knew she would regret it if she did and had a moment's breath to realize. Erik, her mentor, her Angel of Music, her Suitor— would not handle it well. It would be viewed as a rejection, she knew. Whatever they built over the past few weeks would crumble, especially when he had already given her so many outs and opportunities to stop, just by saying the word.

She did not want him to stop, not when his presence and those wonderful hands prickled her skin with enjoyable shivers that made her breasts tingle and excited that new burning ache at her core that she was discovering.

Erik continued the song by humming his enchanting melody in sensuous timbre against the curve of her neck with lingering kisses. There was no rush in his ministrations, only boundless patience, as proved his love without saying a word.

Love. Adoration. Those sentiments were present as they cuddled on the sofa below, but they were cemented now, with her snuggly wrapped in the cocoon of him. Erik caressed the bony ridges of her clavicles, while his right hand rose to rest just beneath her breasts, his thumb between them.

Christine leaned her head back against him, granting all the access he might want, as her eyes closed and her right hand left its perch over his, to reach up and cup his masked cheek in her palm. In turn, Erik pressed his naked cheek into hers as a small sigh escaped him, which made her smile.

Erik continued his tender strokes, but made no further advancement to grasp her breasts. While he possessed the areas around them, he continued the loving tease until Christine arched her back and pressed her chest more into his palms. The blessing was granted, but Erik had other ideas.

In a glide of motion, Erik stepped to her right until he stood perpendicular to her and withdrew his touch from her, apart from wrapping her hand in both of his like she was made of fine glass. He watched her intently as he brought her hand to his lips to kiss each of her knuckles, and her eyes softened with a slight rise of her brow as she appeared to struggle in her deciphering of his intent.

No matter, Erik continued to hum to her as he backpedaled, leading her closer to the bed, where he coaxed her to settle onto the plush surface by the suggestion of careful positioning. Erik released her hand, brushing his fingers across her flushing cheek, and proceeded to kneel on the floor before her, moving her feet into his lap.

The vibrant scheme of lavender stockings with crisscrossing white stripes made him smile a little, as he began massaging her feet with deep kneading motions. His focus was mainly on the balls and arches of her feet, where a fashionable ladies' boot would put the most strain from a notably higher heel.

"I should have worn plainer stockings…" Christine sighed, a tinge of embarrassment coming through in her tone.

Erik looked up at her with an arching brow. "Whyever for? I rather like them. If anything, I expected more vibrance than you have on now."

"You are trying to appease me."

He gave a small head shake as he carried the massage up her legs to work her calves. "No. I rarely say something I do not mean, Christine, especially to you."

A pleased purr escaped her as she struggled to stay upright, instead of reclining completely. "That feels...wonderful… everything has felt, wonderful. You spoil me."

"As it should be, when such intimacy is new to you."

"What of you, when this is even more foreign to you?"

A small, almost sad smile in its tightness, flashed across his face. "It is, though my attitude to touch is quite different from polite society. I have seen what happens when this is unloving, and I want more than that. I give you what I have fantasized and imagined experiencing in this way."

Christine watched him as he pulled the woolen stockings from her legs, one at a time. "Does it not scare you?"

"It terrifies me," he admitted, shifting a bit on the floor, before lifting a naked foot to kiss her ankle.

"You don't seem like it does."

Erik caressed the length of her foreleg with long strokes that turned her to jelly. "Every lesson I have given you…" he kissed her shin in a trail, "is a lesson I learned myself or have been given by the very few who cared. Chin up, breathe…confidence."

The care he gave her leg excited her more, making her feel near primal in anticipation, as he worked his way up to her knee, where he watched her when he pressed a lingering kiss on old scarring.

"I fell from a tree— Papa was very displeased with me for not listening to him.

Erik said nothing as he continued to watch her with a mischievous glint, kissing it again with a tickling tongue.

Christine giggled at the tease and then reached down to frame his face in her hands, "Come here," she cajoled him.

Erik obeyed, shifting his weight between his feet as he rose, kicking off his dress boots before joining her on the bed, where she pulled him into her arms and their lips finally met again. They laid on their sides in a tight embrace, and Erik's hands roamed her back, while Christine's clutched the back of his neck and head, only there was a problem.

Parting their hungered kisses, Christine looked into his eyes as they panted for breath, her fingers at the edge of his mask. Erik's jaw tightened, and he stiffed against her, but he tilted his face to permit her.

Lifting the leather mask and wig away, Christine set them as aside as far as her arm span allowed, then she nuzzled closer and kissed his ravaged cheek.

Erik trembled from her sweetness, his fingers pressing deep against her back before he stiffly pulled them away to thread into her chocolatey locks. The tears of overwhelming emotion at such affection threatened to spill forth, much to his displeasure. He had but one real goal, and his need for any shred of tenderness threatened the moment. "This is to be your evening, Christine."

"Our evening," she corrected and kissed his cheek again.

The charge her kiss sent through him made him gasp and become malleable to being nudged onto his back. Christine prompted herself onto her elbow with a lovely little smile and her hand on his stomach now, unbuttoning his waistcoat. The motions of her fingers pushing buttons through the slits of his satin vest made those mismatched eyes widen in apparent apprehension.

It was a precarious position to be in, allowing someone to come so close to vulnerable areas. A lifetime of instinct and torment made him want to shove her away by instinct, but his need and want to be with her outweighed that urge. He wanted to love and be loved unconditionally. He wanted to open his weary spirit to her and experience what so many took for granted – more than just love or even erogenous activity.

He wanted to find his place and to know joy for more than fleeting moments, and feel what it was to just be… content.

Christine scooted closer to him and nuzzled into his deformed cheek, seeing the nerves the presence of her hand wrought. "Trust me," she crooned now. Then, she continued to hum his melody as her hand remained on his stomach, resting under the unbuttoned vest.

He did. He trusted her more than anyone before, yet remaining still was difficult with anxieties whispering in the back of his mind, anxieties that never did him much good beyond pro-longing his life when death threatened. Erik knew the unsettling predicament in which he found himself, was not dissimilar to what Christine felt as he removed her outer garments; those barriers they were both used to, only it was worse for him. She had the benefits of a kind touch in her life.

Erik had little more than what she gifted him.

"Your comfort matters too, Erik," Christine whispered in his ear, seeming to realize that he was not as easy to soothe.

Erik set his hand over hers. "I will stop you if it becomes…overwhelming."

Christine pressed a kiss to his temple and breathed a gentle instruction into his ear. "Close your eyes."

When he obeyed with a long, shaky exhale, Christine realized just how much power she had over him. This powerful and intelligent man was willfully submitting to her. Erik lay languid before her, as relaxed as he was capable of being, and she understood how momentous this act alone was for him. To be the catalyst for this was a kind of strange honor. It was empowering and endearing.

They needed each other in inexplicable ways. Ways that were so different from the other, yet still the same.

Christine burrowed her face into the nape of his neck and slowly began working the pearly buttons of his shirt, picking her way up his torso as his hand flexed and relaxed over hers. With each release of a button, she caressed a newly undercover section of him, tracing every rib and bit of lean muscle she felt through the rich silk of his undershirt. Some of what she felt seemed strange and out of place, but in her lacking knowledge of the male anatomy, Christine was uncertain. At various points of her upward journey, a deep groan would emanate from his throat, or he would tense beneath her palm. Whenever the latter occurred, she would pause the ascent to swirl patterns with the pads of her fingers until she felt him relax.

When the last button was freed, she traced his collarbone until Erik's hand tightened around hers, and he brought it to his lips to press a kiss upon her fingers.

Christine's touch and compassionate murmurs into his ears were heaven-sent. They tamed most of his internal struggles, and he focused on absorbing every ounce of attention she bestowed. She calmed his mind and soothed his spirit with so little effort.

After his kiss on her hand, Erik shifted to sit upright and shed his layers. Christine sat up with him and began pulling at his garments from his shoulders, although they were resistant to her over-eager attempts, which pulled him back more than anything.

"Christine, wait—" he began.

Snap!

The suspenders that kept his trousers in place and were concealed by the waistcoat of any gentleman, snapped back into place when Christine tried to readjust her grip, and the resulting sting was rather notable.

Erik slowly turned at his waist to look at Christine, who had both hands clasped over her mouth, her eyes wider than a deer caught in light at night. His brow rose, and with exaggerated emphasis, he voiced his obvious, albeit minor, discomfort, "Oww."

"I'm so sorry," she squeaked.

They continued to stare at each other for a long moment; before they erupted in a sudden fit of laughter. Christine tumbled from her knees to her side, her hands still covering her mouth as she giggled gaily.

Erik shook his head, chuckling with his own restrained smile, as he stood and turned to face her. "Christine…Christine, you must remember, vest first," and he shrugged it off in a fluid motion. "Then you either slide them off," here, he hooked his fingers under the white elastic straps and tugged them off his shoulders, "or unseat them." With the straps still partially on his arms, he reached to the waistline of his trousers and unclasped the suspenders, which fell off his arms the rest of the way to hang off the back of his slacks, before he released those clasps too.

Christine nodded, though she was still giggling.

"Then, and only then, can the shirt come off," he smirked, as he shrugged off his shirtsleeves and added to the growing pile of clothing heaped on the floor.

"Shirts," she managed to say, her snickering beginning to calm long enough to utter the word.

"Shirts…" he repeated, his mind a little sluggish before he looked at his short-sleeved undershirt that helped keep the formal one in a pristine state. "Not the greatest of views, Christine."

"I'm not here for the view. It's you and how you make me feel that brings me."

He nearly staggered at her words as his splayed hand pressed to his diaphragm, as if to stem the swell of stunned, and overwhelming emotion that welled within his soul. "Oh, Christine," Erik managed to say.

Christine tugged down the covers of the bed just enough for them to slip under the blankets, before she shifted to the edge of the bed on her knees, then placed a hand over his heart. "This…this is so beautiful to me…the rest… doesn't matter."

This woman. This remarkable…beautiful woman, whose heart was bigger than he deserved, had a way of moving him in like no other. No one called him beautiful. Only his music earned that label, never him. Rather than give in to joyous tears and the burst of emotion that came with it, Erik threw himself into the moment with long fingers weaving into her wavy locks and a bruising kiss upon her lips.

Christine's arms went around him, grasping at the back of his head too, as they exchanged a flurry of aching kisses. They drank each other's unspoken love and reveled in its euphoric warmth that they both craved from the other. While one was trapped by societal prejudice, the other was snared in the demands of expectations. All they wanted was to exist and to be free of their invisible bindings, just as their spirits begged.

In each other's company, their souls tasted that freedom that seemed impossible to obtain.

Erik's undershirt went to the small mountain of disheveled fabric, and so too went Christine's chemise. They both fumbled with the buttons of his trousers, though Erik's hands were careful in keeping his beloved from getting ahold of anything more. When she reached for the waistline of his drawers, he caught her hands, and in a breath between locked lips, he said, "That stays on."

Christine did not protest, especially as Erik rejoined her on the bed. Her legs opened, and she welcomed the weight of him sliding between them. It was not quite as she wished, as it was his abdomen that covered her heat. It was not what was supposed to be there. There was something else that needed to press against her. While innocence did not inform her of what was missing beyond sensations just outside her reach, Erik's mouth…his hands… Those hands went everywhere and soothed her needs. They slid up and down her body in loving caresses that pricked her skin and enflamed her desires for him.

Soft and fleeting in one instance, the next, they were deep and kneading in a wonderful massage of caresses. Those glorious hands and magnificently distorted lips made her body sing in ways Christine never knew and could scarcely imagine as possible.

Erik's mouth conquered her throat, as his hands finally snaked up from her stomach and claimed her breasts into his palm with a heavy squeeze.

A gasp of pleasure escaped her, as her fingers ran through his thin, dark hair.

Next, his mouth trailed down to her left breast, latching onto her and teasing her to perked arousal with kisses that balanced the tender with roughness, then an intoxicating swirl of his tongue. His left hand massaged deep into the tissue of her right breast and teased that nipple to a raised peak with clever fingers.

"Oh, Erik," she moaned and rolled her hips against him.

He slid up her body to join their lips again, and his hips were where Christine's body begged for them to be, only this time, she felt more of him. Where layers of fabric separated them before, she ached for the new hardened bulge that was right there, separated by the thin bits of cotton that made up their respective drawers.

"I want that," she uttered, her mind in a complete fog and unable to process much at all, beyond the sensations he caused her as she clung to him.

"You can't have that," he groaned between kisses.

Christine's hands snaked down his back, barely registering the maze of scars beneath her fingertips. There would be other times…there had to be other times for that. Right now, her hands slipped under his drawers and grasped the only bit of meat on his wiry frame.

Erik grunted when she grabbed him and dug her fingers into his derriere, much as he had her breasts, and kneaded him in a splendid manner that was maddening for him. Yes, he wanted to part their undergarments and ravage her in the joining of their sexes, but he would not, could not do such an act. Not yet. Not until she was his completely.

Instead, he rocked his hips against her to relieve their mutual aching. It would not be the same at all, but it was close enough to relieve the itch as they pulsated together in a teasing simulation of what lay in their future. Unfortunately, Erik knew he lacked staying power for his beloved Christine. It only took a few rolling thrusts of their hips before he shuddered above her. He groaned her name as his release came forth, and instinct made him pulse against her in near-manic bucks as he rode out the waves of pleasure coursing through him.

By the sounds of her moans and gasps, he knew he had gotten her so very close, and his anatomy still had some usefulness left as euphoria calmed him.

"Come on, my love," he mindlessly gasped as he continued to rock against her. "You are so close."

Christine was looking up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, as her fingers brushed over his horrid cheek, but he saw the fog of pleasure that was just beyond her reach.

Dammit!

Erik shifted and his hand went beneath her drawers, where his fingers dove into her womanly folds.

Christine's eyes were locked with his, lips parted, breathless and gasping at the precipice. With Erik's fingers vigorously massaging her womanhood, he focused on that bud of pleasure, rather than seizing her entrance. She writhed more into his hand and then finally, Christine issued a pleasured cry with his name on her lips. Her body spasmed and shuddered in a flood of blissful climax, and her legs tightened around him.

Relief coursed through Erik as he watched her unravel beneath him. He continued to manipulate her folds as he brushed kisses against her cheeks.

As Christine came down from the soaring heights, Erik removed his hand from her slick heat and shifted his weight off her to lie at her side. She turned with him, keeping a leg hooked around his bony hip, and snuggled in close to his chest, a sigh of pure contentment escaping her.

Erik pulled the blankets up over them, before settling in with his sweet Christine in his arms.

Her finger found an old scar on his chest, tracing the jagged thin line in her idleness. "That was…very enjoyable," she uttered with a kiss upon the white distortion on his sternum.

"It will be better next time; if you wish for a next time," he replied, kissing the top of her head.

"I do, very much so…" she answered, as she continued to gently caress his chest. "But…I must ask if you meant what you said?"

Erik tilted his head on the pillows, "What did I say?"

Rather than say his words verbatim, she asked more directly, "Do you love me?"

The air left his lungs as Erik recalled his words of 'my love' while he was trying to bring her to completion. Why deny this truth now? His feelings were unchanged and reaching new depths with every moment they shared. "Yes… I do," he admitted. "I had not meant to say in that moment, but the sentiment remains nothing else than true."

Christine shifted to prop herself up, keeping her hand on his chest so she could gaze into his eyes.

Erik brushed stray hairs out of her face as she hovered above him. "Christine… I love…you," he sang in his most honied voice, that he reserved for only her. The last time he uttered that truth, that deep confession, she had wept as she left him – a lifetime ago now. Still, it seemed the only way to convey that deep feeling that was true to her and the music that ran through their veins.

His eyes watered for that apparition that haunted him in the pains of loss, although she hovered above him so filled with life.

Christine's eyes were watering too, as she drifted closer to him. "I love you, Erik," she whispered and kissed him deeply.

Author's Note: How was it? Worth the wait? Not? I will be hiding under a blanket and checking this...all day. Eep!