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Sweet Sixteen	By : gothicmusings Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 5547 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Sweet Sixteen
- 1
“Sweet sixteen,” Christine mused to herself as she stared at the small slightly decorated pastry that resembled a muffin more than an actual birthday cake. Chorus girls were usually joyous around the opera house when they reached this age, but she couldn’t bring herself to smile as she picked up the handmade card Meg had given her. She was lonely.

She cried whenever she was alone this day, her heart aching for her father. She had made her wish when she blew out her solitary candle stabbed into the middle of the cake. She wished for the gentle arms of her angel to come out of hiding and embrace her, and for his sweet tenor voice to sing to her a song of love or anything to come along and make this birthday, as it should be …a celebration.

She hadn’t realized she’d voiced the wish aloud, but it didn’t matter to her. It was not yet the hour for him to arrive and she was sure he didn’t hear it. She hadn’t felt his presence in the dormitory where she had now sat on her bed, dressed in the slave girl garb from her morning rehearsal of Hannibal. She pinched off a piece of the pastry and ate it; at least she had something sweet to nibble on for the rest of the day. She wrapped up what was left and tucked it under her pillow, then brushed the few crumbs from her fingertips away and stood.

“Christine! They’re calling for us,” Meg yelled into the room as she flitted by in a hurry. She sighed as she rolled her shoulders, loosening her muscles. This day just didn’t seem to have anything good in store for her.

A flash of white moved in the darkness as Christine exited the dormitories. He hadn’t meant to hear the wish, but he had been making rounds to plug up the peepholes Joseph Buquet had made recently. He couldn’t care less if the lecherous drunk was spying on the other girls, but he’d be damned if he’d let him watch his precious Christine undress. No one but him would be allowed that privilege. Erik had lingered when he heard her voice, barely above a whisper, speak her inner desire of wanting his physical presence. Nevertheless, he had bowed his head in despair.

She wanted her angel, not the devilish creature who wore the heavenly façade to keep her smiling during her lowest moments. He inwardly groaned as he looked through the hole and saw her sitting alone, on her birthday of all days. All he had to do was walk in and touch his gloved hand to her shoulder and he could easily fulfill that wish. Then he turned his head and caught his reflection in a large bottle someone had left on a table nearby and he fled, his cape fluttering behind him with each angry step.

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Monsieur Reyer tapped his baton against his music stand, calling everyone’s attention to him. He requested one more run of the scene involving Hannibal’s triumphant entrance and after a rather fast run-through, he called an end to rehearsal. The clock in the backstage area chimed six as Christine ran through the halls to escape Madame Giry’s tongue lashing for her obvious lack of zeal for her performance, but Christine didn’t care for once. Today was her birthday and without one ounce of happiness in the day. It had ruined her mood, leaving her with a desire to be alone. She went in search of her angel, praying that he would come when she called out for him.

Quietly she pushed open the door to the unused dressing room, her eyes darting about as she stepped in and closed it behind her. She clicked the lock and sought out the small lantern she kept in there for when she practiced. Once lit, the small room illuminated in a soft glow as she cast her eyes to the ceiling.

“Angel, are you there? I hope you are.”

Erik had hidden behind the one way mirror at least an hour before, watching and waiting for Christine to enter. He stood with his gloved hands pressed to the glass, his green pools trained on her form as she walked about the room, lighting several more candles.

“Happy birthday, Christine,” the silky voice nearly purred. “I trust you have had a pleasant one?”

She stared into the flame of the last candle. “Not as it should have been. I am sixteen today, a birthday that is supposed to mean something, but it held no joy for me. I feel empty.”

“Because I am not there with you? Because I was not able to hold you in my arms and let you know that at least one in this world cared that you were born on this day?”

So he had heard her wish. She half smiled at the thought of strong angel wings sheltering her as he held her in his embrace, but it faded just as quickly.

“Why can you not show yourself to me?

“You are not ready to behold all that I am, and you are at that tender age where you are still very naïve of a few things.” He took a step back from the mirror and folded his arms over his chest.

Christine stood with her back to the mirror, her muscles moving underneath the slave costume. “Like coupling for one. I know what the other girls tell me. They torture me with their stories.”

Erik’s eyes blinked rapidly. He did not expect her to say such a thing to him, especially when she believed him to be something of Heaven’s creation. “How do these stories torture you?”

“Because I find myself wanting what they describe. Why do I have to suffer in silence while other lesser creatures are allowed to experience worldly…pleasures?”

“I know that you suffer, and I am truly sorry that you feel this way. Would it alleviate your pain a little if I were to admit that I share your same fate?”

She turned around and walked over to sit on the long couch in the room. “I don’t understand. How can you suffer? I didn’t think angels desired like humans.”

“It is not easy to walk amongst people and observe what you cannot have. Even simple touches are often taken for granted.”

“But you have physically seen the things I talk about? Women doing things to themselves when a man cannot be had to satisfy them, couplings in dark corners, men taking care of their own urges. Does this not drive you mad with want? The mere thought of it plagues me at times.”

“Then why do you not simply sate those urges just like the other girls? I’m certain you are capable of doing even that.” His arms lowered from the tightened stance across his chest to dangle at his sides freely. He felt his cheeks grow red as the thought of Christine pleasuring herself crossed his mind.

Christine cast her eyes down to her lap and nervously picked at her nails. “I do not know how.” She remained silent for a minute before tilting her head up to glance at the mirror in front of her. “Would you instruct me?”

Erik’s eyes widened at the request. “Teach you? You want me to teach you about self gratification?”

“You are an angel, are you not? I should not have to worry about you taking such a thing and twisting it into something hideous. I trust you will simply guide me and that will be it. You can hardly touch yourself if you have no physical body, am I right?”

“Of course not,” he lied. One gloved traveled over the front of his trousers. He shook his head at how hard she’d made him in the expanse of a few minutes of conversation. “I shall do my best.” Erik could feel sweat rising on his forehead and his mask growing somewhat itchy from the sudden heat in his skin. He took a deep breath, trying to shake the nervousness in his stomach. “You will have to do exactly as I say.”

She answered him with a nod. “Take off the costume. You will not need that. Afterwards you may put it on to go back to your room.” Christine gazed at the mirror. She could have sworn his voice sounded like it came from behind the glass. Erik almost panicked. In his desire to see her skin, he had forgotten to throw his voice in a different place. He cleared his throat and resumed, sending his dulcet sounds to her ears. “Go ahead, no one is watching but me.”

Those words should have imposed dread in her mind, but for unexplained reasons, Christine felt safe within his gaze as if he would let the world burn to ash before he’d allow her embarrassment or danger. She rose slowly from the couch and began to pull out the pins that secured her curls to the top of her head, letting them fall down around her shoulders.

Erik took in a sharp breath as he ran one hand down to cover the apparent bulge in his trousers. Pure unadulterated torture was in store for him with this lesson, but it didn’t matter to him. He had her permission to view her freely and it gave him a strange sense of comfort.

She reached to her left side and flicked the fastenings loose that held the bra in place and she breathed a little better at the loss of the constricting garment. Tucking her fingers under the edges, she peeled it off and over her head, discarding it over the arm of the couch.

“Wait. Stop undressing for a moment,” his voice called out from everywhere in the room. She looked about the room and nodded her head in compliance. “Before we go any further, I am curious about one thing. Tell me what you believe I would look like if I were flesh in front of you.”

Christine thought for a minute as she crossed her arms over her bare breasts. “Your voice hints at darker things, like your hair. I think you would have black hair. Eyes that pierce the night, maybe green, maybe blue.”

“You have given this some thought.”

Christine nodded her head in shame. She didn’t want to admit to him any more details such as the times she imagined how his mouth would have been like, the pink of his tongue as it darted out to taste her lips with their first kiss. “May I resume?”

“Yes, you may finish.” He moved closer to the mirror and ran his eyes over her exposed skin as she dropped her arms away from her breasts. He was curious about them; they were not overly large like many of the women around the opera house, just large enough to fit in the palms of his hands. He glanced down at his hands, one cupped over the front of his trousers and the other on the glass.

He took a minute to remove his gloves, stuffing them both in one of his pockets. He removed his cape and jacket next and folded them neatly on the ground beside his feet. When next he looked out of the mirror, he was confronted with nude Christine, her skirt draped next to her top.

“Now lie back on the couch.” She nodded and sat down on the couch, her legs slightly apart as she swung them up on it and leaned back until she lay flat. “You are very beautiful, Christine. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. You have the ability to captivate any male with your body.” She blushed crimson at his compliment but simply nodded.

He fought the urge to stroke himself at the mere sight of her luxurious curves on the plush red, merely cupping himself through the material, rubbing his hardness every so often. “I want you to place one hand on your breast and cup it. His eyes followed her slender hand as it ran over her flat stomach and up to the creamy breast, the very tip of her finger grazing her nipple. Her breath caught at the feeling it sent down to her belly.

The tip of his tongue touched his lips as he gave in, unbuttoning himself and slipping his hand inside of his trousers. He made a small noise, more like a tiny whoosh of air as he pulled his hand out, his cock sprawled out in his palm. He was not completely erect yet as he glanced down and gave what he was about to do a cursory look. He ignored his conscious thought of this being wrong, that he was taking advantage of her for his own pleasure, but had she not asked him to teach her about her own body?

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the initiative she had taken by taking her nipple between her thumb and index finger and tweaking it until it peaked. Christine gasped at the new sensation; her lips slightly parted as she inhaled deeply then slowly released it, closing her eyes.

“Do you enjoy the feeling, Christine?” his voice whispered near her ear. “Describe it.”

She swallowed hard as she lazily blinked. “I…” her voice faltered. “My skin feels hotter. And there’s a feeling in my belly, like butterflies only more passionate.” She swallowed again. “Yes, I like it.”

Erik ran his hand up and down the length of his cock, gently squeezing the tip every so often between strokes. He bit down on his bottom lip to suppress a small groan in his throat as he closed his eyes and thought about Christine’s fingers dancing over her pale skin. He stopped long enough to regain his composure.

“Now, with your hand still in that position, I want you to continue doing just as you did, but take your other hand and place it between your thighs. Lightly brush your fingertips over the folds there.”

His grip tightened around his shaft as he watched in earnest, his forehead leaned against the cool glass to give him some relief on the fevered skin. Her dainty hand slid between her legs, and her neck arched as she pushed her head into the pillow on the couch. He licked his lips as he imagined the taste of her skin at the bend in her throat. Someday he would have that pleasure; he’d send the entire universe to Hell just for a brief lick of her flesh or a tiny nibble of her breast.

He began to stroke himself again, long and slow, with his palm rubbing over the head in a teasing manner. His body sprang to life fully and he risked a glance down to see himself. Completely and achingly hard now, he swallowed hard as Christine brushed her fingertips over her sex. Her hips bucked in response and Erik lurched forward to brush himself against the glass, smearing the recently accumulated droplets on the mirror.

He gritted his teeth and cursed inwardly. He was sure to make a mess if he kept this up, and with nothing to catch it, he decided on something last minute. Reaching into his pocket, he took one of his gloves out and slowly slid it over his heated member, completely enveloping it.

The glove felt like a silky condom on him as he wrapped his hand around himself again and stroked a few times to determine how the leather affected him. He fell forward against the mirror, his hand slapping the glass hard from the luxurious feeling. Erik was stunned at his inability to control himself and his eyes shot to Christine, who had looked at the mirror from the sudden sound.

“What was that noise?” she asked as she jerked her hand from her thigh and sat up.

Erik cleared his throat and answered her carefully, his voice at her ear. “I imagine rats live behind these walls. Any of a number of things could have been the reason.”

He dropped his gaze and fumbled about behind the mirror, racking his brain for ideas to throw her off her suspicion. He didn’t notice Christine approaching the mirror, her hair falling in ringlets around her shoulders and her arms crossed over her breasts as she frowned at the thing curiously.

There was something about the mirror. Was there someone behind it? What if her angel was just a clever ruse to enslave a girl into a twisted perverse fantasy? She ran a hand along the edges of the frame, searching for any kind of mechanism that might be hidden. No switches or buttons, so she ran her hands over the frame itself. The ornate carvings in the wood might expose a secret and she touched and pressed the nooks and crannies.

She fell to her knees to reach the bottom recesses of the object and just as she had abandoned herself to the notion that this was all just silly, her finger pressed something in the carving. Christine leaned back on her haunches as the mirror released from the frame and tucked her lithe fingers into the gap and slid it until it was out of view.

If anyone had walked into the room and viewed the current sight, they would have either screamed or promptly turned on their heels and exited. Erik stood in utter horror as he stared down at the image before him: Christine on her knees, her hands hanging lazily at her sides as she peered up at him, her face hovering just above his waist as her eyes locked with his. He breathed heavily as he tried to think of what to do with his present situation. Christine leaned back and sat on her heels, her face mauled with disappointment.

“You are not as intimidating as I had believed.”

Her words snapped Erik into reality a little further as he’d moved his hand away from the raging erection he had, taking the glove that encased it with it. He quickly tried to hide himself, his hand fighting fiercely with his cock as he tried to tuck himself back in his trousers. She lifted a hand to his own and touched his wrist, staying his actions.

“May I see?’

Erik didn’t know how to reply to such a request. He simply stared at Christine in disbelief, his hand inside of his trousers as the wheels turned in his brain, but she made the decision for him. Her eyes left his as she concentrated on her task, tiny fingers curling around his wrist and deftly removing his hand from inside the slit in his trousers.

She glanced up at him through a veil of dark curls as she reached inside and searched for the body part she had met only briefly. Fierce heat emanated from it as her hand wrapped around it and gently removed it from its confines once more as Erik hissed through his teeth, his hands searching for anything to dig his fingers into for support.

He took a step and his spine met with the doorway, his skull hitting the unrelenting wood as her palm slid down to cup his balls. One hand gripped the wall while the other buried itself in her hair; his eyes squeezed shut to avoid the scene below him. Christine eyed the object in her hand curiously.

She’d never seen what lie beneath a man’s clothing, only felt it the one occasion when Joseph Buquet had decided to surprise her and rubbed his crotch against her backside. The incident had disgusted her, but this was different. Her angel, the one thing in the world she had wished to view in the flesh now stood before her, no more than a man and her mere touch was driving him mad with desire. Christine grinned wickedly at the thought.

She ran the pad of her thumb over the head and smirked as his flesh twitched in her hand.

“Does it excite you when I do this?” Erik could only nod in response. “What if I did this,” she said as she leaned forward and trailed her tongue around the head, “and stopped?”

Erik’s body gave a visible shudder as the moistness of her tongue grazed him. “I would simply go insane and there would be no way to save me.”

“And your salvation could not be found in the warm depths of my mouth?”

She put the question to him as her lips lingered near his shaft, the heat of her breath teasing the skin as she drew the tip of a fingernail across the underside. Just as his lips parted to answer, she took him into her mouth and pressed her other hand to his thigh to still him.

“Yesss,” he hissed through clenched teeth as the moist heat of her mouth enveloped him.

He felt no further movement and he chanced a quick peek at the image below his waist. Christine ran her tongue along the bottom of the head as she adjusted her mouth to his girth, and slowly she inched down the length, taking her time with the newfound technique. Soft fingertips firmly bared into her scalp as he smoothed them through her unruly curls, eliciting a rumbling moan from her throat and sent a vibration along his shaft. He fought to thrust its entirety down her throat, the slow maddening torture of her hot mouth engulfing only half of the length.

“Oh God, Christine…please…stop. I cannot…” he broke off as he felt the cool air of the room hit the wetness coating his cock.

“Cannot what?” she asked as she pulled his pants down to his knees, fully exposing him.

Before he could answer, she cupped his balls in her hand, giving them a gentle squeeze in her exploration. Erik’s knees shook lightly as she toyed with him, and even though he knew in the back of his mind she was only curious, he couldn’t help but think that maybe this was her own way of putting the control in her hands after all these years. She’d stilled her movements long enough to allow him ample time to gather his wits, stuttering at first before setting his speech right.

“I…I was about to…well,” he stopped in his embarrassment.

Christine couldn’t resist a smile, the first she could recall as wanton in nature, and got to her feet, her hand sliding along up his torso and resting over his heart. She didn’t speak but set to work unbuttoning his waistcoat, pushing it off his shoulders and moving on to the shirt. Tugging it free, she parted the white cloth to reveal the muscular expanse of deathly pale skin and lowered her head, taking a flat disc in her mouth. Erik instantly squirmed as her tongue swirled over the area, his legs shimmying until his trousers fell to the floor. He couldn’t escape, not that he wished to leave, but for once, the mighty Phantom was afraid of how things were turning out. He brushed her hair away from her shoulder and dropped a kiss to the soft skin there, his cool fingers circling the spot where his lips had just been. He opened his mouth to speak, but she lifted her head and placed her finger over the pink flesh to silence anything he was prepared to say.

Erik pressed his hands to the small of her back and drew her against him, the brunt of his arousal rubbing against her inner thigh. She moaned in his arms as she tilted her head to the side, his mouth feasting on the tiny juncture of her neck. Christine felt the tip of his cock rub along her lips, moisture seeping out and covering the length as he moved it against her.

He couldn’t help but thrust upward, his cock hungering to be sheathed, but it was too soon. She slithered her hand between them and took hold of him once more, her hand pumping up and down in a steady rhythm as her mouth sought his nipple again. Erik gasped as his head fell back against the wall with a loud thump.

“Christine…please…I cannot hold it back…”

She laved her tongue over the nipple and peered at Erik through a thin veil of curls. “Then we shall have to strive to avoid a mess.”

With a final stroke, she let her hand slip from his cock and took a step back out of his arms, her eyes scanning the room for something. Casting her eyes to the floor just inside the mirror, she saw the one glove he had used earlier. Picking it up, she turned it over in her hands, examining the fine black leather.

“This will do nicely.”

His brow furrowed in a questioning glare as his eyes followed Christine’s form around the room. Brushing his hair back from his forehead, he wet his lips before speaking. “Whatever do you need my glove for?”

She smirked as she stepped back into his waiting arms. “For this,” she replied as she slipped the glove over his erection.

Erik was quickly reminded of how good the glove had felt earlier on his heated member as Christine stroked him through his new leather confines. His hands grasped her shoulders as she picked up speed, his mouth seeking hers only to have her turn her head away.

“Don’t kiss me.”

His back arched against her hand and he struggled for breath for words to question her statement.

“Why? I want…I want to taste…you,” he rasped between each stroke.

She ignored his words and closed her eyes as she leaned her body into his, her bare breasts brushing the smooth muscles of his chest. She kissed his neck and moved down to the center of his chest, then on to take his nipple in her mouth once again. She nipped it, tweaking it between her teeth as she licked the tip of her tongue over the flesh. His hands tightened their grip, burying his fingertips into her milky skin enough to bruise as he began to moan louder.

“Quiet or someone shall hear you,” she reprimanded as she covered his mouth with her free hand.

For someone usually so timid, Christine was beginning to show much more harshness to her spine the deeper she fell into the act with him. Then it was over. Erik’s body grew rigid as he came into the glove, his throat giving a guttural cry behind her hand as he spent himself inside the leather condom. She stroked two more times, milking his cock until the shudders subsided in him and slowly withdrew the soiled garment and clutched the end closed in her hand.

He touched his forehead to hers, sweat rolling down his cheek profusely as his strange eyes met hers, his hand shakily reaching up to caress her cheek. He ghosted his hand over her face and neck as he stared in wonder at his perfect angel in front of him who had simply morphed into the consummate devil in the bedroom.

“Why would you not kiss me?” he managed as he caught his breath.

“Because it would have been in lust and I wanted you to kiss me when I knew it would be for love and love alone.” She smiled. “Do you love me?”

“Yes,” he answered without thinking.

“Then you may kiss me.”

Erik tilted his head until their lips met for the first time, his hand curling into her hair as he drew her into his arms, hugging her as close to him as humanly possible. She returned the kiss fervently, letting her hand entangle in the smooth black hair. He thought he’d try something and he ran his tongue along the entrance, begging for permission as he whimpered slightly against her mouth. With haste, she allowed him inside and their tongues tangled in their first real kiss.

The candles in the room were beginning to fade out and as small shadows were cast along the walls, Christine reluctantly pulled away from her strange angel.

“I should return to the dormitories soon. Madame Giry will come looking for me if I am gone too long.”

“Yes,” he replied, his voice threaded with disappointment.

He bent over, pulled his trousers up, and fastened them, his visible cheek more than red with embarrassment of the predicament. He picked up the rest of his discarded outerwear and redressed, securing his shirt and waistcoat back into place as though nothing had ever transpired, then looked back at the glove still held in a death grip in Christine’s hand.

“Perhaps I should…dispose of that for you.”

She merely nodded in response and handed it to him. He took it and pinched the end in his fingers.

“Dress quickly and hasten to bed, my dear. I shall follow you from afar to ensure you to not run into any…obstacles,” his mind immediately wandering to Buquet’s penchant for lingering around the corridors late at night.

Not giving her any time to reply, he disappeared behind the mirror to allow her time to dress and gathered his cape, fastening it around his neck before he traveled the tunnel and circled back up toward the auditorium. When he passed a waste bin, he dropped the glove inside and breezed by, heading to the hall where Christine’s secret dressing room was housed. He’d arrived just in time as she cracked the door open and peeked outside to make sure it was clear to leave undetected. Just as she stepped out, she heard the voice of her angel at her ear, whispering comforting words and bringing forth a smile from her lips.

“I am here; you may go on to bed. I shall watch until I know you are safe in your blankets with pleasant dreams of your angel.”

She nodded in the dark, but Erik didn’t need a light source to know she was positively glowing with happiness. Above her, he followed closely, weaving in and out of the flies and moving down a secret passage that led to the hallway that housed the dormitories.

When at last she slipped inside the room, he watched as Christine shed her clothing in front of him for the second time that evening. She pulled an old slip of a nightgown over her head, letting it fall down to her knees before crawling under the simple sheet and blanket.

“Angel, are you still there?” she whispered into the darkness as she tucked her arm underneath her head.

“Yes, I’m here, but I believe it is time for me to depart. So I shall bid you adieu for the night, ma chere.” Erik turned to go, but her next words halted his steps.

“Goodnight, Monsieur L’Fantome.”

Erik couldn’t help but smile. She was an extraordinarily bright young woman. And he whispered one last thing in her ear before leaving.

“Happy birthday.”
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Sweet Sixteen