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Forget Me Not	By : spikesbint Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > AU/AR Views: 12354 -:- 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.

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- 12
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please review, you never know it might make me write faster ^_~ lol

No longer denied

Chapter 12

Erik led Christine several doors further down, until they reached the door of what she assumed to be his bedroom. He stopped at the entrance and turned around to smile at her wearily.

“I have arranged quarters for yourself and Meg at the far wing of the house. It is a self-contained apartment with its own front door. I hope that that will be enough to keep the old matrons of New York society happy.”

“But what of me?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What will keep me happy? When all I want to do is sleep by your side, every night for the rest of our lives,” she said softly.

Erik swallowed hard at her words. It took all of his willpower not to fall to his knees and kiss the hem of her gown. If there were a moment when he could possibly love her more, then he would be hard pressed to find it. How he had survived without her for so long, he would never know. The long lonely years all seemed a distant unhappy memory compared to the warmth of her company.

He stumbled slightly as he went to take her in his arms. Christine closed the remaining distance between them, trying to give him support.

“Come, you are exhausted. Let me help you undress and get you into bed,”

“That sounds like a proposition,”

Erik smiled at the rosy colour that tinged her cheeks, but made no argument at her suggestion as she opened the bedroom door and they walked through it. The warm reds and earthy tones of the boudoir instantly impressed her. She smiled approvingly, not at the least surprised at his good taste.

“You like the room?” he asked, noting the look of pleasure on her face.

“Yes I do,” she replied simply. “You have made yourself a beautiful home,”

“No, before it was a house, now it is a home,” They looked at each other for several, emotion heavy moments before he smiled down at her. I am glad you like my room, I intend for us to spend many happy nights…and days in here,”

Christine felt her insides melt as she watched the suggestive smile spread across his face. Seeing him smile was such a rare and beautiful occasion, and it went a little to dissolving the pain and fear at her friend’s disappearance. Erik saw the shadow pass over her face and correctly interpreted its cause.

“We will find her,” he said with quiet determination.

She smiled weakly at his words and bowed her head, concentrating on sliding his jacket from his shoulders. Christine placed it on the bed and turned back to face him. Her hands rested on the fine material of his waistcoat for a moment, before she started to unbutton it. Erik drew in a breath. When he had agreed to let her undress him, he had not reckoned on his body’s reaction to her touch.

The material of his tight fitting black pants was already straining against an erection, which begged for release. As Christine undid the last button of his waistcoat, her hand brushed against it, whether by accident or by design he did know. She glanced up at him, demurely through semi-lowered lids. He caught the flash of mischief on her face before she looked down again and loosened the knot on his cravat.

Erik was starting to feel at a definite disadvantage as she divested him of his garments, but remained fully clothed herself. She had just removed his shirt and he watched in fascination as her tiny, but beautiful hands rested on the waistband of his trousers.

“Do you want me to take these off as well?” she asked.

Damn her, she knew he did.

Unable to take the torment any longer, he took her hand and pressed it against the telltale swelling. Christine cupped him through the material, feeling his hard heat in the palm of her hand.

“Does that answer your question Madame?” he asked hoarsely, stunned into silence as he felt her hand slide beneath the waistband.

Her fingers curled around his member, slowly and tantalisingly stroking her hand up and down its length. Sleep was now the last thing on his mind as she unbuttoned his pants with her free hand and drew him out. She pulled the material down his legs, bending over as she did so. He could feel her warm breath on the tip of his shaft.

Christine could see the moisture glistening on the tip and smelt the stimulating scent of his arousal. She wondered what he would taste like. Erik felt as if a jolt of pure electricity had surged through his body. He felt her tongue flick out and touch the head and wondered for a moment if he had died and gone to heaven. No one had ever done this for him before.

He groaned aloud and threaded his fingers through her hair. Encouraged by his sounds of pleasure, she took in a little more of him. The hot wet heat of her mouth was almost too much for him as his knees almost buckled beneath him.

Inch by agonising inch she enveloped him, her tongue tasting every part of him.

“Oh God! Christine,” he pulled her head away. “No, I want to be inside you. I need you,” he explained at her look of bewilderment, as he pulled her to him.

He ravaged her lips in a violent kiss, tasting the salty tang of himself on her tongue. They pulled apart, and Erik carried her over to the huge bed and sat her on the edge of it. He tore off his mask, caring little as to where it fell. Erik removed his trousers fully, along with his shoes. She looked down at him, as he knelt at her feet and felt a sudden urge to cry. It seemed he was finally becoming free of the confines of that little white prison. He would never be free of it in the real world, but in the only world that mattered, their own private world, he could finally live.

He parted her legs and pulled down her undergarments. She watched as his head disappeared beneath her skirts and cried out as his tongue made contact with her clit.

Erik was in the mood to give her some of the same exquisite torture she had visited upon himself. She cried out and gripped his shoulders as he explored her. She was close to her release, but like him, she tried to hold it back. Christine wanted them to be together when the moment came.

“Erik,” she half pleaded.

He understood the meaning behind her soft cry as she spoke his name. He bunched up the skirts of her dress around her thighs. Erik then positioned himself between her legs. Kneeling before her, he pulled her towards him and impaled her on his shaft.

Erik’s eyes never left her face, watching every reaction as he filled and stretched her. The flushed cheeks and the open adoration in her eyes, only spurred him on as he thrust into her hard and deep.

Christine glanced behind her, and caught a glimpse of herself in the long dressing mirror behind her. There was something very erotic to her mind, of being fully dressed, while making love with your lover. She was lost in the naked beauty of his form, as she caressed every muscle and sinew of that strong firm back as he pounded into her, pleasuring them both with his body. She could feel her muscles start to clench and knew she would not be far away from finding her release.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, leaned back on the bed, and took him with her. Erik ground his mouth against hers, and continued thrusting against her, her little sighs of pleasure arousing him to new heights.

“I love you!” she cried out on a sob as she came.

Erik’s eyes widened in shock, but before he could fully take in her passionate declaration, his body begged release from the sensual onslaught and moments later he joined her, groaning against the flesh of her throat. Christine felt the nip of his teeth as they suckled at her skin, but she cared little as she wrapped her legs around him tighter, taking every drop of his warm seed as it flooded her body.

They rested, still locked together as their breathing slowed. Erik did not dare move, as her words spoken only minutes before, slowly penetrated his mind.

Christine lay there, shocked that she had finally spoken the words aloud. Erik had not said a word yet and she wondered if by some chance he had not heard her. No, that was a false hope. She had almost screamed them loud enough for half of New York to hear. She was sure of it.

Erik finally made a move to roll off her. He took her with him as they lay side, by side on the bed. His grey green eyes piercing as they studied her face and she felt as if he were trying to comb the very depths of her soul. His eyes had the power to strip her more naked than his hands ever could. However, she returned his gaze, unwaveringly, not ashamed of the sentiments she had voiced aloud. Her heart had no longer wished to be denied its voice, whatever his reservations and her recent bereavement.

His eyes softened as he ran a finger along the line of her jaw, moving to caress her kiss-swollen lips. Erik noted that in the heat of their coupling, he had left a small purplish love bite at the base of her throat. He smiled, but still was unable to speak. There was a hundred things he could say to her, tell her what it had meant to him to hear those precious words, but he was afraid it would break the feeling of perfect contentment that washed over him as she kissed the thumb that rested on her lower lip. He closed his eyes, while resting his other hand across her waist.

Christine could bear it no longer; she had to know what he was feeling.

“Erik…I know you think it too soon after all that has happened, but I meant what I said. I do love you, I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in this life and God forgive me, I think I even love you more than my beloved father,” she finished on a sob, as her voice cracked with emotion.

When he still did not speak, she begun to fear he had fallen asleep, until suddenly he opened his eyes to look at her. The love she read in his eyes made the breath catch in her throat.

“Christine…I love you,” She could see what it had cost him to say those words, the flicker of pain and fear in his voice unmistakable.

The softly spoken words took her mind back in time to the last time she had heard them. A very different man had spoken them then, but the memory of his pain and his tears was still fresh. With a sudden comprehension she realised why he had been so reluctant to voice his feelings before, although she had felt his love a thousand fold in the reverence of his touch. It was because the last time he had spoken them, she had left him, alone and a broken shell of the proud, intelligent man that he was.

Somehow, he had managed to claw his way back from that, to become the man he was now. He held himself with the quiet dignity of man who had finally found his place in the world. It dawned on her, that he had done the right thing to let her go. He had loved her that much. She had chosen him and he had rejected her, but not because he did not want her as she had at first imagined, but because he wanted her. It made a strange kind of sense to her.

Christine pulled him into her arms and he rested his head against her breast.

“I love you so very much. Words do not even begin to express it,” she sighed, letting out all the pain and loneliness of the wasted years.

His breathing slowed and she realised he was in fact now asleep, but she did not begrudge him the rest. He would need it for tonight, when they renewed their search for Meg. When Christine was sure that he was deeply asleep, she very carefully pulled her arm out from under him. He stirred a couple of times, but went back to sleep. Christine got off the bed and as much as she enjoyed watching him sleep in his naked beauty, she wrapped the quilt over him and placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

She walked into what was his bathroom, and washed herself with water from the taps, too intent on her task to be bothered with the novelty of running water. She put her discarded undergarments back on and quietly left the room. Christine walked down the corridor until she reached Tom’s room. She pressed her ear against the wood, listening for signs that he was still in residence. She was wholly unprepared for the door suddenly opening. Christine fell forward, Tom was just as shocked as she was, but his reactions were quick as he stopped her from falling.

Christine straightened herself, blushing fiery red.

“I er…” she struggled for the right words.

“You wanted to see me about something?” asked Tom, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“Er yes…Erik told me to ask you if you would also get me some women’s clothing from that place you are going to…”

“And why would that be?” he asked sceptically.

“I am to go with you to find my friend,” she replied.

“Look Miss, I know Mr Devereux pretty well and I am sure the last thing he would want is you risking your pretty little neck in five points. Nice try,” he grinned, before placing his bowler hat on his head and walking off down the hallway, whistling as he went.

Christine balled her hands up in frustration until another idea came to her mind. This was a large household and there were bound to be servants. She turned and walked back the way she came, to Erik’s room. He was still asleep, with one arm, flung out over his head. Christine walked over to the large wardrobes that flanked one wall. She opened the door, wincing as one of the hinges squeaked in protest. She quickly glanced behind her, but Erik had not stirred.

After a perfunctorily search of the shelves, she came up with nothing. She needed funds. Christine had inherited a small stipend from Raoul’s estate, but she felt that was more to the generosity of his cousin Etienne than any real legacy. Hardly enough to feed a flea, but she couldn’t touch that yet as an account had not been set up for her here in New York. She was for all intense purposes without a flag to fly with.

As Christine turned around in defeat, she noticed Erik’s discarded clothing, lying scattered on the bedroom floor, along with his pants. She picked them up and felt about in the pockets, smiling to herself as she found his wallet. She took out one of the bank notes

It was only a dollar. Then why did it feel like she had just robbed him of all his worldly possessions she wondered. She guiltily tucked the wallet back into the pants and left the room again, in search of a servant to bribe. It did not take long as she made her way down the grand staircase. The servants were already at work. Christine spied a young girl with a mop and bucket cleaning the hall floor.

“Excuse me,” Christine stood behind the girl.

They were both startled as the girl let out a little scream. The house cleaner turned around to face her, her hand on her chest and her eyes wide in her face.

“Good morning Madam,” the girl bobbed a curtsey.

Christine decided the girl was suffering from a decided lack of curiosity as to her identity, but she knew from running Raoul’s household, that gossip was rife among the servants. Most of them probably already knew that she and their master had already spent the last couple of hours in his room as well. Her mouth curved in wry amusement. She turned her attention back to the girl.

Christine struggled for the right words as she tried to explain what she needed. After several hand gestures and attempts to explain what she wanted, the girl suddenly understood her. Although she looked, a little confused at the other woman’s request. However, she had only been working there a short while and did not want to risk displeasing the woman who might soon be the new mistress of the house.

“I don’t have anything…”

Christine looked at her in disappointment.

“But there are some things that were left in my room by the girl who worked here before me,” she replied, helpfully. “She was a lot smaller than me, so they are of no use to me. Would you like me to fetch them now madam?”

Christine glanced towards the stairs. “Now would be an excellent time. I will come with you,” she replied before looking back at the girl.

The girl still couldn’t understand what such a fine and well dressed lady as the woman before her, would want with servants cast offs. The rich were a strange lot, she mused, as she led Christine to her quarters in her attic room.

Christine waited patiently while the girl opened the trunk at the foot of her bed. She looked around the room. It was very pretty and clean, with a comfortable looking bed and a few items of furniture to make it homier. Erik was generous with even the lowest echelons of his household. It was just another reason why she loved him so, he put on this hard exterior to the world, but his true nature was apparent with everything that he undertook.

“What is your name?” asked Christine.

“Rachel, Madam,” replied the girl as she turned back to Christine.

The girl held up a bottle green gown, which looked like it might once have been fine. However the lace around the collar had yellowed with age and there were several patches where it had been mended by its previous owner. There were heavy wrinkles in it too, it was perfect. In Rachel’s other hand was a black bonnet that looked to be at least twenty years out of fashion. Christine could remember Madame Giry owning something similar, when they had lived at the Opera house.

“Très bien!”

The girl frowned.

“Thank you,”

Christine left the room in search of a good hiding place for the clothing, where she could fetch them from later.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

There was a funny taste in her mouth and her head hurt. Meg slowly opened her eyes and looked around the room in confusion. The last thing she could recall was Tom steering her through the rioting crowds and then soon after that everything had gone dark. There had been other brief moments of lucidity followed by the sharp sting of a needle in her arm. Her mind felt foggy and disorientated.

Meg tried to move her arms to get into a sitting position; the floorboards were dirty, dusty and uncomfortable. She quickly discovered that she was unable to move either her hands or feet. They were both tightly bound.

“Mon Dieu!” she cried in frustration.

She instantly regretted making any noise, as she soon heard the sound of heavy footsteps before the door handle was turned. Meg was not sure what she had expected, but she was certainly not prepared for the small woman, with the hard dark eyes that walked through the doorway.

“So you’re awake then?” she asked Meg disdainfully.

“Where am I?” asked Meg, refusing to show any fear to this unknown person.

“That’s neither here nor there dear. As long as you do as you are told then you’ll live to see another day,” She seemed to take satisfaction from the other woman’s sudden pallor. She walked over to Meg and grabbed her roughly by the jaw, turning her head from side to side. “Well you are a pretty girl, and French. I am sure you will be very popular with our customers. They are always looking for a touch of the exotic,” she cackled at her.

“Customers…what do you mean? You cannot keep me here. I will scream…someone will hear me!”

“Scream all you want, no one cares. The local beat is paid well enough to ignore it, besides it all comes with the territory,”

“What do you mean…territory? What is this place?”

“Why…it’s a whorehouse dearie and you are my latest girl. We will make a lot of money together….well you will and I will keep it and in return I will let you live,”

“Mais non!”

“You will do as you’re told and open your legs for the paying clientele like a good little slut!” The woman knelt down and leered at her.

“I would rather die!” Meg replied, as she spat in the woman’s face.

The woman did not even flinch as she wiped her face with a grubby sleeve of her dress. Meg let out a gasp of a pain, as with lightening speed the woman whipped a cutthroat razor as if from thin air and held it at her throat. Meg could feel the wet trickle of blood as the blade was pressed against her skin.

“Be careful what you wish for,”

The door burst open and a large bulky looking man, with a bottle of whiskey in his hand entered the room.

“What are you doing Josie? The gents won’t pay for her if you cut her up,” he growled, as he took a big lug of the bottle of liquor in his hand.

“Just teaching her, her place, that’s all Frank,” she grumbled as she put the razor away.

“Go see to your duties, there are a couple of clients looking for girls and we don’t want to keep them waiting,”

Josie got up and walked out of the room. Meg had never felt more wretched and alone as she thought of her mother and Christine. She wondered if she would ever see their faces again. Not usually one for tears, she decided the occasion called for it as one slid down her dirty cheek, leaving a track in its wake. Meg closed her eyes, wanting to shut out the living nightmare into which she had been flung.

She flinched as she felt a rough meaty hand stroke her face. Meg opened her eyes in alarm to find Frank’s face inches from her own. He had knelt down on the floor. There was a disgusting leer twisting his lips as his hand travelled from her cheek to her breast. His breathing grew heavier, as he rubbed the unresponsive nipple through her dress. Meg’s stomach lurched at the smell of stale whiskey and sweat. Whatever ever he was about to do to her, she wished that she would not live long enough to endure it.

“Want to show me what you’ve got?” he asked, running his tongue along his lips.

Meg looked on in terror as he started to unbuckle his belt. She could see the horrific sight of his aroused body as he stroked himself through his pants.

“Frank!”

“Fucking hell!” he cursed, as he got unsteadily to his feet. He stooped down to pick up his whiskey bottle and turned around to face Meg before he left the room. “Later,”

She heard the sound of the key being turned in the lock, and let out a huge sigh of relief for the reprieve.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Erik awoke in his bed, with a warm feeling of contentment, which he soon discovered was not all due to the recent words that had been spoken between himself and Christine. He placed his hand on the arm that was draped about him and he turned to look at her.

“So you are awake then?” She asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Hmmm, what time is it?” he asked.

“Well, your watch is in your waistcoat pocket, but I am afraid that it is on the floor along with the rest of your clothing,” she giggled.

The clock by the fireplace chimed the hour and Erik sat up in bed.

“It is five. I need to find Tom, I have slept too long,” he said placing a quick kiss on Christine’s lips, before getting out of the bed and going to his wardrobe.

She watched his movements as he took a fine lawn shirt from its hanger and buttoned it. Erik’s hands had always fascinated her. The fingers were long and lean. They could wring such beautiful music from whatever they touched, she included, Christine realised. She stretched out on the bed with feline grace before leaving the bed herself.

Erik slipped on a pair of chocolate brown pants and tidied his hair before going to another cupboard and retrieving a wig. He patted it down on his head and turned back to her. He held out his hand and she took it, her own small hand almost lost in the size of his own. He had not bothered to put his mask back on. It pleased her that he was finally letting down his guard a little more.

“Let me show you to the apartment that you will be sharing with Meg,”

The smile that had hovered on Christine’s lips disappeared at the mention of her friend’s name and for a moment, her resolve to go along on tonight’s undertaking wavered. What if she made a bad situation worse?

Erik took a key from the pocket of his trousers as he led her down a back staircase to a whitewashed corridor, with a heavy looking oak door, which even had its own number on it. He had not been in jest when he had said it was like a separate apartment to the house. Her only complaint was that it was so far from where he slept, although she planned to be with him as much as possible.

Erik handed her the brass key, and she took it from his hand. Their fingers touching for several moments before she put the key in the lock. Christine glanced back at him before she turned the handle. There was a look of expectancy, she had not noticed beforehand. Christine turned and opened the door.

It was like walking into a summer meadow. The walls were decorated with pale blue watered silk. The room was filled with light as the sun shone in through the large windows. No attention to detail had been spared. Christine lovingly touched the shiny surface of the mahogany dresser. Her apparent delight reminded him of a child. The breath caught in her throat as she turned away and her eyes fell on a water colour painting, hanging on one of the walls. Tears stung at her eyes and she dashed them away feeling foolish.

She walked over to look at the painting. “My father’s house by the sea? But how did you know?” she asked, turning to face him.

“I remembered our long talks together Christine. I made enquiries and commissioned a painter,”

She gave him a watery smile. “You made all of this, without any hopes of ever seeing me again…it’s beautiful,” she sighed.

It was not nearly as beautiful as seeing the pleasure the room brought to her. “It was what I saw when I…thought of you,” he replied huskily. “If you follow me, there is another room through here for Meg, and a bathroom with running water,”

Christine’s dark eyes saddened. “I will look at it later. I see our luggage has arrived,” The happy moment was gone, as she walked over to the trunks and traced the initials MG, stamped in gold letters on the topmost trunk.

“I hate to leave you, but I must find Tom. There is much to be done before I go out tonight,”

Christine walked over to him and kissed him on the lips before resting her head on his chest. “You will be careful won’t you?” she asked.

“Of course, besides, I have so much to live for now,” he replied.

He left the room, and when his footsteps had faded, Christine moved Meg’s trunk off her own. She took the tiny key from the locket she was wearing and unlocked the case before unbuckling the leather straps. She carefully laid the clothing from within, on the bed. It was then that she removed the false bottom from the trunk. Raoul had had the luggage custom made for security purposes, not trusting the servants at coaching inns with valuables and such. They had come in handy when Christine had taken her pair of pearl handled revolvers with her, which her husband had given her on her birthday one year.

Christine checked to make sure they were both fully loaded, before secreting them away in a bedside drawer. She made the most of her time alone to leave the apartment and go recover the concealed clothing. She was glad to quit the room that had suddenly seemed so empty, even more so as it was to have been hers and Meg’s living quarters. That was something soon remedied, the men were going to rescue her friend tonight and she was going to assist in anyway she could, she thought with quiet determination.

TBC
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Forget Me Not