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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.

Chapter List
- 7
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Dedicated to my great niece Kayla who died before she had a chance to live. Born May 7th 2005. Here for a moment, but in my heart forever…Forget you not.

Chapter 7
Body and Soul

Christine could spend her life telling herself that what she was doing was wrong, but it felt so right. As she took his hand, she knew that she had been in search of this all her adult life and had finally found it. They walked silently to her bedroom. Erik stopped briefly to pick up one of the lamps as she led the way. Christine reached out to turn the handle, glancing up at him shyly as she opened the door onto the darkened room.

The solitary lamp cast a soft glow in the room not quite reaching to the darkened corners. Christine’s head snapped around at the finality of the click as Erik closed the door quietly closed behind them. For several long slow movements neither of them dared move, but he finally reached out a hand to stroke her cheek. Christine’s fingers closed over his own.

“Erik I…”

He placed a finger on her lips. If she just flicked her tongue out a little, she could touch it, she thought to herself, almost shocked at the wickedness of her own thoughts. “There are no words for tonight Christine, none that would do it justice,”

Erik leaned in and replaced his finger with his lips. Christine sighed against him as she let him explore her mouth. Her hands lifted to touch his face, her fingers entwining in his hair. It was surprisingly soft to the touch. She had forgotten that.

What she had not forgotten was how good his lips felt against her own. His strong hands encircled her tiny waist making her feel very feminine as she pressed against him, pleading for closer contact. She recalled her dream she had had of him the night Raoul had died, when he had taken her in her sleep and how she had responded to it even after she knew it had not been her husband.

Christine gasped into his mouth as his hand travelled up the bodice of her nightgown to settle on one of her breasts. His thumb grazed the nipple causing it to harden. Erik pulled away, looking down at her in deep satisfaction. Needing to witness and savour each reaction that flitted across her expressive face.

He continued to look at her as his hand slipped beneath the fabric and touched her naked flesh. Her eyes widened as he cupped her bare breast while unbuttoning her gown with his other hand. Christine watched at his long nimble fingers made short work of her clothing. She instantly felt jealous of the other women that had been with him this way, but just as quickly felt ashamed for her selfish thoughts. Did she expect him to live alone forever, never knowing comfort of another? Until a few days ago, she had not thought of him as living at all. No she would be thankful that he was here, warm and alive and touching her in a way she had only dreamt of.

She smiled as he peeled the gown off her shoulder, shivering in the coldness of the air. Her skin covered in Goosebumps as he bent his head and his lips trailed her shoulder. His tongue flicked out, tracing her collarbone. He tasted the saltiness of her skin and nipped at her gently with blunt teeth. Christine unbelted her dressing gown to assist him, suddenly feeling overdressed. She let it fall to the floor and turned her own attention to the cravat at his neck, unclipping the diamond pin that held it in place and putting down on the nightstand.

Trembling hands attempted to unbutton his snowy white shirt. He smiled down at her tenderly before taking her fingers and completing the task for her. Christine touched the smattering of dark hairs on his chest. Erik closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her hands as they explored his body. She looked instinctively lower, flushing as she saw his obvious desire for her in the outline of his close fitting black pants.

Erik opened his eyes as he felt her touch falter and saw where her eyes rested. “Touch me Christine…” he urged.

“I am already touching you…oh!” she blushed as his meaning sank in.

Her hand made a slow journey down the hard flat planes of his stomach and came to rest at the waistband of his pants. She felt herself respond to his plea. She knew the contours and shape of a man, but he was nothing like her husband had been. He was much broader and somehow he still held that aura of danger, which excited and aroused her at the same time. She took a deep breath, did as he asked, opening the top button and her hand slid inside.

Erik sucked in a breath as her hand made contact with his painfully hard shaft. Christine felt emboldened by the expression in his eyes and experimentally moved her hand. Erik gripped her arm to steady himself.

“Christine…don’t stop,” he moaned.

His hands were busy exploring her own body and all she could think of was the fingers that caressed her, leaving her aching for more. Erik read some of the desperation on her face as he lowered his head to her breast, to take one of the buds in his mouth and circle it with his tongue. He raised his head and kissed her hard on the mouth before picking her up and carrying her over to the bed. He placed her on gently on its surface before moving away.

He removed his jacket and shrugged out of his shirt, giving her a much better view of his body. Christine found it pleasurable to watch him undress. His movements were slow and unconsciously sensuous. He finally removed his pants to stand naked before her. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his unclothed body; it was everything she had imagined it to be.

Christine began to take off her own remaining clothing, but Erik moved quickly to take ahold her hands.

“I want to undress you,” he told her as he joined her on the bed.

Christine lay back as he covered her body with his own, closing her eyes in ecstasy as she felt his hand slip beneath her gown and trail along the length of her thigh. She gasped as he touched her intimately, her head arched back off the pillows

“Open your eyes…I want to see everything,” he breathed.

Christine’s eyes opened slowly, this was nothing like what she had shared with Raoul. Erik seemed to not only want her body, but her soul too. The feelings inside her threatened to overwhelm her, but she was unable to deny his softly spoken command.

“I need you,” she whispered back.

A fire seemed to burn in his eyes as her words. He took a handful of the delicate material of her nightdress and tore it from her. No longer the gentle lover, but a man half crazed with desire for the woman he had loved for so long. Christine welcomed his ardour as it matched her own. She pulled his head down to hers and they kissed passionately, his tongue tracing her lips before plunging into her mouth. He would never get enough of her kisses having been starved of them for so long.

Christine pressed up against him, parting her legs instinctively. Erik lifted his head to study her face as his hand went between their bodies. She looked back at him unashamed. She gently touched his face, not looking away as in one swift movement; he joined his body to hers. He kissed her lips more tenderly this time, taking her mouth in almost the same instant.

He felt more wonderful than she could have ever imagined in a thousand dreams. The look of pure joy on his face was enough to make a tear fall down her cheek, to be lost in the thickness of her hair. No matter what the future held in store for them, this moment would live with her forever.

He began to move, slowly at first until she wrapped a leg around him and urged him on. The pace building as their urgency grew with it. Black spots formed behind Christine’s eyes as he took her body and soul; just had he had wanted to. The words of his fated opera were the last coherent thoughts to flit across her mind what raging fire shall flood the soul.

Their bodies took over in the rhythm of the ancient dance, of which all lovers partake. All she could feel was his hard body as he drove himself into her repeatedly. She gripped his hips, welcoming his passion and returning it in full. She could tell she was close to her release.

“Erik!” she cried out as her head collapsed against his sweat-slicked shoulder.

Moments later he let out a guttural cry as her joined her, thrusting into her one last time before he came deep inside her. Her walls clinging to him and milking every last drop from his body. Christine lifted her head to witness the pleasure that he took from her in wonder. As their breathing slowed, she saw a shadow of pain cross his face. He rolled off her abruptly and turned on to his side.

Christine felt tears spring to her eyes, at what seemed to be his rejection. Had she displeased him in someway? She glanced at his profile in confusion. Noticing for the first time, that his shoulders were shaking.

“Erik?” she asked. There was no reply. “Talk to me, tell me what I did wrong,” a sob rose in her throat.

Erik finally turned around to face her. He touched her cheek finding that was wet with tears. Christine was shocked to discover that he had been crying too. “Don’t you understand? You did nothing wrong…it was beautiful,”

“Then why?”

He smiled wryly. “Christine the first time I ever received a kiss from another person…it was you. I always thought I was destined to live life alone after that. It is all I ever planned for and then you came back to me. Please do not tell me this is some kind of widow’s rebound. Now that I have had you, I find I am more wretched than ever before…at the thought that it meant everything to me and nothing to you,” he finished.

Christine felt the anger rise within her. “How dare you think that it was meaningless to me! I put aside my faith, my memories of my husband. I risked everything to take this chance on us,”

Erik wiped at his face fruitlessly. That tiny little word us had told him all that he had ever needed to know. Christine took a fragment of her torn clothing and dried his tears, smiling down tenderly at him the whole time. She pulled the blankets around them both as Erik turned to face her. Draping an arm about her shoulders, he bent his head to kiss her more gently now that their passion was spent for the time being.

This was another first for him, being held. He would tell her that one day, but for now, he just wanted to close his eyes and enjoy their moment. To his surprise, he found being in her arms was almost as breathtaking as making love to her. He kissed the top of her hair, breathing in the rosewater scent that lingered. He smiled to himself as he felt her fall asleep in his arms. Sleep would not come to him, he opened his eyes again as he found all he wanted to do was watch the miracle as it unfolded and she entrusted herself to him.

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

Meg wriggled out of Luc’s grasp in the back of the carriage. “Stop it,” she giggled as his lips touched her neck. “We have to think of Christine,” she reminded him.

“Oh, I am definitely not thinking of her at this moment. Does that mean that I don’t get to come up tonight?” he asked, pulling a teasing pout.

“Well, maybe for a little while,” she sighed.

The carriage pulled up her lodgings. Luc helped Meg from the carriage, taking her in his arms as it continued on its way.

“God I’ve missed you,”

“I’ve missed you too,” she replied, realising that it was true. She leaned in for a kiss, distracted for several minutes before she pulled away at him. “We really must go up. I won’t relax until I know that Christine is fine,”

Luc slapped her rear in resignation as he opened the door and they walked upstairs together. Meg opened the sitting room door and frowned. It was still early by Parisian standards. She had at least expected to find her friend in the company of a good book. She looked around the darkened room, unable to see little until Luc lit one of the lamps. With a bit of light shed on the matter, she noticed a pair of black leather gloves resting on the arm of a chair, alongside a man’s cape.

A suspicion grew in her mind. Maybe Erik had called and left in a hurry and forgot them, she thought. Desperately trying to find a good excuse for why his personal items would still be here. She hoped more than anything that Christine had not done something as foolish she began to suspect she had this early on in her widowhood.

She walked across the room to the door that was next to her own bedroom. Luc came up behind her. “If you wanted to go to bed, all you had to do was ask,”

“Ssshh!” she said in irritation.

Meg turned the door handle slowly and as quietly as she could. The lamp had burned low and the light was poor, but cast enough illumination so that she could not mistake the outline of two people on the bed. Nor did she miss the pile of clothing haphazardly scattered around the room. She closed the door on the sleeping couple no longer wanting to intrude. Questions could wait for later. She sighed and turned to Luc.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “And to think you cut our dinner date short to check on the merry widow. Looks like she is doing just fine on her own…or should I say with Erik,”

“Erik…how did you know who it was?” asked Meg.

“Of course I know who he is. Father told me all about him at dinner the other night. He is to be the new patron of the Opera Populaire. Besides, he has literally haunted the Opera house this past week. I have seen him on several occasions,”

“What?” asked Meg. She looked at Luc, he obviously did not know the nature of the man his father had dealt with or that in fact he was indeed the opera ghost that had liked nothing more than to do just that…haunt the opera house. She rubbed at her temple, suddenly feeling very weary.

“Calm down my love. With the Vicomte deceased, my father had to find funding somewhere. Besides it keeps you in work, although I don’t know why you won’t let me set you up with a place of your own,”

“Luc we have been through this before, I will not be any man’s mistress. I am tired, I think I will have an early night,” she said turning away.

He knew by her set expression, she had presented him with moments before, that it would be useless to try to persuade her otherwise. He sighed heavily before kissing her on the cheek and hurrying down the stairs.

Meg made straight for her room. She just hoped Christine knew what she was doing. She opened the door to her bedroom and went inside, lighting a candle before undressing for bed. The Phantom’s old mask, which she had kept all these years, caught her eye. She sighed softly before snuffing out the candle and climbing into bed.

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

Christine awoke and stretched out in the bed like a cat awaking from a deep sleep. She smiled as she remembered the events of the previous night. She turned over to look at Erik. Sharp disappointment flooded her as she discovered that the space in the bed next to her was empty. A rose, that he must have taken from the vase in the living room rested on the pillow. Next to it was a sheet of paper, with just the word later scrawled across its surface. It took a little of the sting of his absence away as she picked it up and breathed in its scent.

Christine got up from the bed and winced a little. She ached in new places that she did not think possible. They had made love once more in the night, the second time it had been slow and leisurely. He was a passionate intense lover, just as she imagined he would be. Christine pulled on her robe and walked over to the mirror. She examined herself in it, wondering why she did not look remarkably different. There were faint marks on her neck and her lips were slightly swollen from his kisses, but apart from that, she looked the same old Christine. She heard the chime of the clock from the bedroom. It was eight o’clock. Her audition was set for nine. She had no time to waste. She quickly washed herself with water from the washstand and dressed in something she hoped would be suitable for an audition. She would have to break with tradition and cast off her widow’s black for one day.

Last night had not exactly been traditional, she thought to herself wryly as she brushed out the riotous dark curls and pinned up her hair. Feeling ready to face the world, she left the bedroom.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee invaded her nostrils as she entered the main room. A small table in the corner had been set for two people. Meg was absent, but she could hear her voice ring out from the kitchen as she softly sang to herself. It took Christine back to when they were children and the opera house dorms had been their playground.

Life had been so much less complicated then. She could still remember with perfect clarity the very first time that Erik had spoken to her. It had been in the middle of the night. She had been unable to sleep and had crept down to the chapel to pray, hoping that her father would hear her in heaven. As usual, she had only been greeted by silence.

“Father, you promised to send the angel of music…you have been gone for almost six months….I cannot believe any more,” She had collapsed on the floor sobbing with grief for her father, when a beautiful voice had broke through the sound of her sobs.

He had been gruff, yet commanding, telling her to dry her tears and to get up from the floor. She had responded to his instructions, wiping away her tears and begging him to speak to her again. He had rewarded her, by singing a song, a child’s lullaby. She knew then that he must be the angel her father had promised.

Although time had proved him no more than a man, he had been her guardian angel in more ways than she could count. Christine was broken out of her dreamy reverie by the plate of fresh rolls that was slammed down on the table.

“Good morning Christine. I hope you slept well,” said Meg, an eyebrow arched as she looked at her.

Christine flushed. “Very well thank you,”

Meg disappeared back into the kitchen, to return moments later with a coffee pot. She sat at the table and poured them both a cup. Christine studied her friend’s face. “Is there something troubling you?” she asked her.

“Nothing wrong with me, I am just fine. Best eat up; the carriage will be here soon. You do not want to audition on an empty stomach, now do you?” asked Meg as she drank down the rest of her coffee and left the table to find her bonnet and cape.

Christine pushed her plate away untouched, and got up from the table to ready herself. A few moments later, a knock sounded on the door and the two women went downstairs to answer it. Before Meg opened the door, she glanced at Christine. Her friend’s hands were shaking.

She smiled at her in understanding. Her concerns for Christine’s behaviour pushed aside as she took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“You will walk it Christine. You were meant to shine,” said Meg, before she kissed her cheek and they opened the door and walked out into the warm spring sunshine.

Oh, but where was Erik? She needed him there; surely, he would not desert her now? Christine sighed as she stepped into the carriage, followed by Meg. With a tap on the roof, they were on their way to the Opera Populaire.

TBC

A/N I would like to apologise for the lateness of the chapter, but we suffered a bereavement in my family last weekend and my muse went walkabout. I hope the chapter was still good.
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Forget Me Not