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Rossignol	By : Savaial Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 5240 -:- 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-Rossignol
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Ch 4
- 5-Ch 5
- 6-Ch 6
- 7-7
- 8-Ch 8
- 9-Ch 9
- 10-Ch 10
- 11-Ch 11
- 12-Ch 12
- 13-Ch 13
- 14-Ch 14
- 15-Ch 15
- 16-Ch 16
- 17-Ch 17
- 18-Ch 18
- 19-Ch 19
- 20-Ch 20
- 21-Ch 21
- 22-Ch 22
- 23-Ch 23
- 24-Ch 24
- 25-Ch 25
- 26-Ch 26
- 27-Ch 27
- 28-Ch 28
- 29-Ch 29
- 30-30- Epilogue
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She felt so soft in my arms, so warm and alive.

I reached out to stroke her cheek, amazed at how she leaned into my touch. She herself had unmasked me, and she didn’t look away from me. She didn’t care about my ugliness.

My God, she didn’t even care I was more than a little mad. She didn’t care I’d mutilated her husband beyond any hope of recovery. In the end she’d finished what I’d started, and without hesitation. Now I had her, here, in my home, and she claimed she would never leave me. I had to believe her.

No, I didn’t deserve her, but what did that matter?

“Erik, the tub is full,” she said softly.

I turned and shut off the water. Celeste slid off my lap and reached for my fly. “You’re bathing with me,” she said firmly. “I’m glad you had the foresight to get a tub big enough for us.”

“A happy accident,” I murmured. “I’m quite too tall to relax in an ordinary bathtub.” Having a woman undress me was something very new. I liked it.

We got in together. I put my back against the far side and pulled her to rest against my chest. She leaned onto me, humming in satisfaction. My greedy eyes devoured her naked flesh. When I put both hands around her to gently hold the weight of both her breasts, she sighed with pleasure.

I stroked her, kneaded her, palmed her taut nipples.

“Oh,” she whispered. “I like that, Erik.”

“So do I,” I admitted. “Touching you makes me feel protective, dominant. I want to own you.” I slid my hands down her slick ribs, past her navel. “I want to hear you say my name over and over again.” I parted the soft folds of her vulva, felt for the tiny nub of flesh she’d guided me to earlier. This little key opened a very small passageway inside of her. Surely I could find different ways to turn it to her pleasure.

She felt even softer here. The water rippled as she parted for me. I felt myself grow hard as she draped her legs over each side of the tub. Not only did she grant me access, she granted me a full pass to her most private places. Emotion threatened to overwhelm me.

Celeste arched against my explorations, softly gasping the music only a woman could make. Her movements, her sounds created the most seductive dance, a dance no man had the will to look away from. Awed, I let the pride for my success fill me and warm my veins. She proved my most precious instrument. I would play her like no other.

“Oh Erik.”

I nearly lost my rhythm at the passion in her voice.

“Erik, you clever, clever man!"

My free hand wandered back to her slippery breasts. I felt I could never get enough of touching her. She was everything I was not. Soft instead of hard, smooth instead of rough, and small instead of tall… I rolled her nipple, remembering she’d liked that.

“Erik, Erik!”

How beautiful my name was, spilled out of her mouth.

She dropped her head against my chest. I lost no time finding her lips with my own. She tasted of fire and honey, of retribution and forgiveness. I kissed Kali in this blood-tinged water.

She groaned into my mouth and I almost came.

When I slid a finger inside her, she found her summit and toppled. Water exploded from the tub, extinguishing the single candle I kept burning in the corner. In the immediate darkness I listened to her gasp, crying out like a woman in pain.

This was the truest magic.

Enflamed yet inspired to tenderness, I held Celeste while she recovered. Her heartbeat pushed at my fingertips. I could smell her arousal in the steam. What power I had, what responsibility! She would climax twice for each time I did, I resolved with silent fervor. It was the least I could do for her and I would enjoy it to the point of pain.

Celeste twisted, brought her legs down. In seconds I found myself wrapped up in her, gripped at the waist by her curvy calves and clung to around the neck with her hands. I wasn’t prepared for her to lower herself upon me. The sudden, heart-stopping pleasure of her channel as it swallowed my cock made me stiffen like a board. She covered my mouth, dampening my noise of surrender. “Use me, Erik,” she demanded. “Take my bottom in both hands and just have me.”

It was lover talk, pure trust and need. She knew I would never use her. I would give her anything she wanted, even this illusion of domination.

I was glad she couldn’t see my tears. They had to come out, they were needed, but I worried about upsetting her. I wouldn’t cry forever; eventually my gratitude for her love would become something so deep that tears wouldn’t be enough.

She was so light. I moved her at my will, impaling her over and over again upon me. Each deep, swift thrust into her molten core brought me closer to heaven. More than anything I wanted to erupt inside of her, fill her womb completely. If she would grow gravid I would die of happiness. The thought of her heavy with my child spread the deepest of aches to my nerves, blotted out all rational thought.

My desire exploded into lust. Celeste bit my neck, scratched at my back with her short nails. Suddenly it wasn’t enough to remain seated. I climbed out of the tub, still holding her, and took her standing up.

She went wild. I could barely hold her. Celeste, growling, sobbing, tore at me like a maenad, curses and praise alike grinding out of her mouth. “Oh yes, Erik, fuck me! Oh, oh God! Don’t hold back!”

Oh Celeste, as if I could!

My hips became a blur of movement. I wished desperately that I could see her bouncing upon me, but the cursed candle was out. I felt her breasts striking my chest, her smooth legs gripping me, her nails once again tearing into my shoulders. Her feminine core pulsed around me, milked me, and begged for my release. The pressure kept building, building, building…

Her howling, dim behind the roar of blood in my ears, told me she’d met her climax once more. She clamped down, shaking me with her contracting birth canal. The feeling made white hot gibberish of my mind and reduced me to animal brutishness. I plunged harder, took her with bruising force. Nothing was as important as taking the female in my arms, nothing. She was mine.

When I came I felt my heart nearly stop. My legs almost buckled at the force of my ejaculation. I fancied I felt my soul pump out with the hot product of my joy, but that was good. My soul was in far better hands if she kept it.

Staggering, I managed to put Celeste back on her own two feet. I would have carried her directly to the bedroom but I didn’t know if she would want to continue to wear the evidence of my devotion. As much as the sight of my come dripping down her legs had excited me, perhaps she wasn’t as appreciative.

“Erik,” she chuckled. “Shall we get back in the water?”

I kissed her forehead for my answer.

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

I felt no awkwardness lying beside of Erik in his bed. Nevertheless neither of us slept instantly. Every method to relax me failed, and Erik’s breathing, though regular, was tight with tension. We were not accustomed to sleeping with anyone.

“This is ridiculous,” Erik said in a soft tone.

“I agree. What should we do?” I rolled to face him even though we had no light and I could not see. The mattress dipped slightly, telling me he also rolled toward me.

“I do not know.” Erik’s answer, solemn and low, worried me.

“Touch my hand,” I said, reaching out. After only a moment’s groping we found each other. I felt relief the moment we made real contact. “Perhaps we’re going about this wrong?”

“We should be…closer,” Erik surmised. “We are used to sleeping in a different manner.”

We exchanged hand holding for body to body contact. Erik pressed himself to my back, wrapping his long arms around me. “I wanted to hold you,” he confessed directly into my ear. “I wanted to cover you with my body but I dreaded you would forget who I was and be afraid.”

His thoughtfulness stung my eyes. “I’ll never mistake you for anyone but my angel,” I assured him. “Your body is very different from the ones I’ve known. You’re lean, hard, long and wiry. You smell of amber and patchouli and your own musk.” I smiled as I squeezed his wrist. “And, Erik, you always touch me with compassion. You are the only one who has ever lain beside me and done so.”

A brief silence descended, a silence which became pregnant with understanding. Erik sighed. “I’ve never shared a bed with anyone at all, in violence or kindness,” he confessed. “I never slept with my parents or a sibling.”

“Do you have any siblings?” My curiosity wished fulfillment.

“A…half brother. He is…unlike me.”

I heard the unspoken words. He is not damaged.
“No one is like you, Erik,” I whispered. “I’ve never known anyone so talented and smart.”

Erik’s roughened laugh rode the edge of a precipice.

“My dear, I am perhaps more stubborn than talented, and more cunning than smart,” he replied. “And, having observed humans very closely, I can tell you that the most burdened and tried among them are easily the most remarkable. People either thrive in hot water or boil in it. You and I are more alike because of this peculiar human trait; we have determined we will not boil."Erik slid his forearm between my breasts, spreading his long fingers out like a fan over my heart. “It wasn’t until I saw you set your husband on fire that I appreciated how very alike we are.”

I wasn’t in bed with Erik anymore. I was in bed with the Opera Ghost.

My heart accelerated. Erik pressed against the pulse, seeming to enjoy it. His manhood, stirring with every errant beat of my heart, soon grew to fullness. I felt his fingers close and cup around my nipple. “We have the same blood,” he whispered in my ear, sending chills down my heated spine. “Arrogance makes me adore you more than any other woman who walks this earth, for though I treasure our differences, I triumph over our similarities.” His free hand tangled in my hair, gripped it lightly. I arched against him, pushed my bottom around his hard length.

“I have waited forty years for you,” Erik murmured, answering my grinding with a pointed thrust. His hand on my breast dipped down to cover my mons. “Forty years of wandering in the desert, searching for an oasis with a feminine face.”

I raised my left leg, curled it around his. Erik’s voice, soft, low as the sea, filled me with wet heat. The suction of undertow pulled my womb tight, flexing in preparation. Every fiber that comprised me welcomed his entry, thrilled at promise of him.

My body wanted his seed. My mind wanted his presence. My heart knew of his love.

Erik’s fingers slid past my slick folds, dipped inside me with savoring slowness. “My oasis is the pool at your core,” he rumbled. His thumb brushed my clit and the waters inside me broke. I came in his hand, clenched to his body, listening to his growl of approval.

Three minutes of talking, fifteen seconds of touch, and one second of pressure at my core.

“My beautiful Kali would never throw herself on a funeral pyre,” Erik said, his fingers still trapped within me. “Kali came into the world to fight, springing from the brow of her mother, Durga, to slay the demons of self-doubt, fear, addiction, and loneliness. She slaughtered ten thousand avidya. Her victory dance threatened to end the world.”

Erik’s hands began moving upon me once more.

“But she was benevolent, for all her fury. Her consort, fearful she would destroy the world, put a baby on the battlefield, directly under her stomping feet. Kali stopped her dance to scoop the child into her arms and feed it. Imagine it, a beautiful, vengeful goddess standing amidst the slain, a baby in her arms and at her breast.” He tweeked my nipple. “She lives inside of you, Celeste, and I see her and want to fall down on my knees in worship.”

I groaned my pleasure.

“I helped you to speak, Celeste, but like Kali, you are the mother of language.” Erik moved his fingers, twisted them inside me. A strangled cry escaped my lips at the barrage of sensation. He chuckled as he tasted my ear lobe. “You speak with your body even more than with your mouth.” His fingers began to pump slowly in synchronicity with his words, dolling out my pleasure in small bursts. I felt him press against my back, pushing my upper body forward.

He entered me. His reception, no doubt, was everything he wanted it to be; I tensed up around him until I could feel individual veins. His fingers did not falter even though he arched into me with delight, his gratification escaping him as a mere hiss of air. Now he focused solely on my center, moving his shaft in time with his rotations. I desperately wanted him to let go, to make our journey hard and fast, but he ignored my whimpers, held me tight against the insistent speeding of my hips. This position felt dirty and I loved it.

“When I come inside of you I feel like a god,” Erik groaned. “I feel I could come until it kills me.”

Please, I thought, anything but that. Let us have each other.

Erik stopped moving. I cried out, grasping at his thighs in need. “Erik, please!”

“Just feel me,” he soothed, but his tone set me on fire. “Feel my blade in your sheath. I’m throbbing, pulsing with blood. My balls are so tight, so ready to empty into you. Your tight little tunnel just begs me for it and I can feel it.” He shifted and I felt him in a completely different place. I almost felt like I had to urinate, but he pressed upon a spot that made me want to split myself wide open, get more of him in. He pushed again and I lost my breath entirely at his rubbing, weighted pressure. “And I can feel you like this," he purred, “your silence tells me worlds. But now I’ll make you scream.”

His first three thrusts in union with his circling fingers toppled me. The orgasm stretched me out like a board, clenched me around him. It sent Erik insane. Growling, thrusting, he took my hips and kept me pliant to his movements. “If I could fuck you every minute of every day,” he grunted, “it would still not be enough.”

He came. I felt his seed, hotter than my insides, the product of his loving dominion over me. Erik kept me tightly against him, jerking my body in time with his own.

Can’t let the female you’re mating get away before you’re finished, I thought. I found his possessiveness incredibly stimulating. I wouldn’t trade Erik for anything, but his ghost identity was terribly alluring. If I could only get them to share his body…

“Celeste?” Erik’s voice sounded slightly groggy and very much nervous.

“Yes, Erik?” I pulled off of him and rolled to clasp him face to face. He started, as if not expecting me to embrace him. The smell of his sweat and musk drugged me. I wound my arm around his neck and breathed him in, reveling at his masculinity.

“I thought to ensure your wellness, but I see you are indeed perfectly fine,” he answered, clasping me as tightly to himself as I held him. He buried his face in my hair, inhaling. “I thought I might have hurt you, toward the end.”

I heard the question clearly. He knew he’d lost himself a little. Well, he’d been living with the Opera Ghost a very long time; he no doubt understood the moment he became more than Erik. My animal self, my Kali, as he called her, also gave me warning. My mind calmed, became the surface of deep lake when Kali came. I had no doubts, no fear; I became as one entirely self-possessed.

“I don’t mind being hurt a little,” I confessed. “Lovemaking is first and foremost a carnal act; there is bound to be pain.”

“Never for you shall there be any pain,” Erik said lowly. “You will tell me when I hurt you, understand?”

“I understand,” I vowed. I simply would not tell him when he hurt me if he was intent on being stubborn over this matter. Even the most gentle man could hurt his lover; women were soft.
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Rossignol