Replaying Past | By : RubyNatulieLee Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 7371 -:- 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. |
[Woot! Done with my moving!! Good old Florida...How I miss ya.]
[Disclaimer: I do not own or make any sort of money off of this based story. I only own the charaters of Esme Lonsdale, Eddy and his sister Crystal, The wig maker, Nicolas and the three boys from Sandor's gang. Everything else I do not own nor belong to me. ]
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How could a mother want to do such a thing?
Erik sat upon his bed in dismay. His body bent, elbows at knees, his face within his hands. Thoughts rushing threw his mind like a wild fire, pushing aside all other worries and pain. Eddy was so destroyed. His young youth taken and replaced with an stronger spirit. That could do no more to help his baby sister, like Erik himself could not. Both Eddy and himself, felt the same emotion.
Helplessness.
Erik had sent the boy home with his half dazed sister. Telling him to wait that week out. In hope that maybe his mother would change her mind, see the error’s of her ways and keep Crystal safe and sound like a mother should. He told Eddy, to wait that week and come back to him at the sixth day, and report. What his mother was going to do, and if she did not change her mind, then Erik would think of something.
Within the dark part of his mind, that had been left alone and untouched, began to pray, that the mother would.
But what if she didn’t? What she wanted to place her child, her little girl. Who wasn’t even a young lady, into the streets, so the men, whose sick pleasure lingered for the younger flesh and who didn’t care if they fought back. To only drive them to greater pleasure and ease, to beat the child and take out their day upon their young body and tare into them as they cried and begged and screamed for their mothers help...
“Arrgggghhhh!!!!”
Erik shoved off the bed, his hands covering his ears. He did not want to think such things, he didn’t want to hear such things. His own childhood being played, endless nights, as he cried upon the floor, screaming for his mother, wanting her to take him within her gentle arms and protect him from the out side world and their cruelty. But she never came, she left him alone and scared, to be teased and mocked in till he had to kill. She made him into what she was today and he could never forgive his mother for such a fate.
Why couldn’t she just love him... Like he loved her.
His feet carried him to the other side of his lair, where the pictures he had drawn floated upon the wall. Beckoning him to come closer, to stare into the drawings eyes. If he married Christine, and she bore him a child. Be it boy or girl, he would protect the innocent soul with his very life. With a trembling hand, he reached out and touched one of the many drawings, letting his fingers trace the coal outlines. Before a growl spilled from his throat, his finger digging into the paper and ripped it from the wall. She would never have his child. His singer. She would find it a burden and cry every moment as her stomach grew round. Never knowing, if her child might turn out the way he did. She would never give him the pleasure to know, how fatherhood would feel like...
But Esme might....
His thoughts slipped, as the torn drawing paper floated to the ground around him. The mere thought of Esme, standing before the cracked mirror, stroking her round belly. Seeing the warmth and tenderness in her eyes. Holding such love and adornment for the child that lingered under her heart. She would give him a child he asked for, she would be happy to give him five. She would love them, every bit as much, as she loved Erik. Even if they came out with the same infection he held. Warmth washed over his chest, filling his heart like a flood, like a dam being shattering, letting the rushing water spill out.
She would give him the pleasure. To know, how father hood might turn out for him.
Not a moment had past since he started to think of Esme, when the mirror, the only root in and out of his lair besides the lake, his Dancers slender form seem to rush out. All thoughts within his mind when blank. But, besides the pleasing feeling, of seeing her once again. His face grew with worry, at the site. Esme stood before him, hugging her cloak so tightly, her fingers were growing white. Her face was masked in fear and her body, trembling. Erik cursed to himself, he was a fool to send her out on her own, even worse, not going to look for her when she didn’t return. But as he took a step, to take hold of her, to smooth of her fear. A cry left her lips.
And her body slammed into his own.
Erik stood there in mere shock, as Esme pressed into him, her face buried within his chest, bathing his skin with her tears. She sobbed, as if everything around her killed her. She clinged to him, as if he were her last hope. His face, slowly filled with rage, what had happen to his dancer. Whom had done it. If he found out, someone had placed their grimy hands upon her, he would track them down and gut them slowly and with great pain.
His arm wrapped around her so tightly, holding her close. Whispering tender words into her ear, trying to clam her trembling body down. She sobbed and it broke his very heart.
Esme felt shamed. It wasn’t her fault, she did nothing to earn Sandor’s reaction. But to thought and knowing his hands were touching her, his lips upon her, when she wanted Erik’s instead. Filled her with such bitter shame and regret. Being held within his arms, only made her want to cry, to know if she told him. He might turn away from her. She didn’t want to lose him, she could not risk it. His words made her cling and his arms made her melt. She wanted to stay within his arms and let him remove the actions of the day.
Erik gave a frown when he felt her fingers rise up from his chest. Trailing up from his shoulders, up his neck to his hair. A shiver shot up his spine, making him suppress a groan. A mere touch from her made him want to burst. But he couldn’t do that here, at this moment. She was crying...and she was pulling at his hair. Looking down, Erik saw his red hair dancer tip her own head back and surge herself to the tips of her toes, and press her salt tasted lips over his own. She kissed him, with such hunger and haste, like her very life depended on it. He shouldn’t do this. He should pull her away and demand to know what has coursed her to cry and run into his arms. But she felt so right against him, her small slender form, pressing it’s tender flesh into his hard groin, making him almost buckle and fall. Regrets be damned! He needed her!
Esme gave a gasp again his lips, when her body was lifted. His arms sweeping her up, like a groom to a bride and carried her. As if she weight like nothing but a feather. Her lips, being pressed and molded, being feed like rare fruit from his hungry mouth. Demanding, claiming all. She was like, his willing slave. Wanting to please and be petted with affection in a job well done. But he did more, then pat her head or ruffle her hair. If she brought him pleasure. He gave her something far more then she ever thought possible...
Sinking into the mattress, he lowered her fully down, his hands raking along her thighs, pushing shoving the skirts of her dress up. He wanted her naked, he wanted to feel the heated skin upon his own. It felt like seconds to Esme, as her clothing was removed, leaving her bare, her skin exposed to the darkness of night and to her Phantoms eyes. She wasn’t innocent any more. Her eyes watched, burning with such thoughts as Erik undressed himself, baring to her his form. His muscular chest and flat stomach, his strong arms that could be gentle to hold her. Lean legs, that made her own grow weak. But mostly, what got her attention and blush. Was what lingered within the middle, that was slowly starting to rise and grow thick.
“Stop looking at me like that.” Erik teased, his voice deep and filled with such raw delight. It made Esme look up to him, her voice in a breathless grasp, as she muttered. “Why?” He only chuckled, as he bent closer, pushing her down upon her very back, covering her skin with his own. “You look, as if you were going to gobble me right up.” He was teasing her of course, but innocent all but forgotten, she whispered, the words that made Erik’s groin tighten and a deep groan pass threw his throat.
“What if I want too?”
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