This is just a random bit of fluff that I wrote becauseI wanted to write an E/C story. It will be two parts, no more. Hopefully, this will placate the readers of my other story, Not An Angel, Just Erik. I realize that many of you were disappointed that it will not be E/C.
Erik's looks are heavily based on Leroux and Kay's version, but his personality and such are bits and pieces of a few different versions of Erik. The mask covers all but his lips and chin, which are only mildly deformed.
Okay, enough rambling... on to the story!
Christine crept down to Erik's lair. She knew that she shouldn't be here at this hour of the night; not only was it highly improper, but Erik had strictly told her to only come down when he invited her. She was sure, though, that he would make an exception in this case. The poor girl had just woken up from a horrid nightmare involving him being killed by an angry mob. She was certain that she would not be able to fall asleep unless she was convinced that her angel was safe, even if that meant staying the night at his side, down in the catacombs of the Opera. It wasn't as if she had not done it before.
Once she reached his lair, Christine was glad that she knew the route that didn't involve the lake. As she made her way to the big sofa by the fireplace, she happened to glance over at the organ. What she beheld made her grin. Erik must have fallen asleep while composing, because he was lying with his head in his arms on his beautiful instrument, hair tousled and shirt askew. The shirt was fully unbuttoned, and it showed a great deal of his chest and abs, bringing a rosy blush to her cheeks. Against her better judgment, she walked over to him, just to wake him up from the uncomfortable looking position. Unfortunately, she wasn't paying attention to where she was going. She tripped over a box of books and tumbled to the stone ground with a cry, hitting her head on the table.
Erik awoke instantly, a bit disoriented. Jumping to his feet, he saw Christine on the floor, rubbing her head. Panic swept through him as he realized that she was bleeding.
"Christine, what happened?" he asked, concerned and a bit annoyed as he rushed over to her. She knew that she wasn't supposed to be here, yet here she was!
"I tripped and hit my head… It is just a little cut; I will be fine," she replied sheepishly.
Erik sighed. "Come with me. Your cut must be treated."
Christine nodded and accepted his outstretched hand, feeling a bit dizzy as she stood. As she leaned on Erik's arm for support, she sensed that he was upset with her, and she was well aware that she deserved it.
Erik fetched a bandage, some water in a bowl, and a small washcloth before motioning for Christine to sit on the sofa. As he tenderly patted the wound, an obvious question entered his mind.
"Why are you down here, Christine? I believe that I said that you could come here by my invitation only." She looked into his compassionate yet slightly annoyed golden-green eyes with her big brown ones and sighed, a small smile on her face.
"It seems silly now. I had a dreadful nightmare about you getting hurt, and I had to come down to assure myself that you were unharmed." The nightmare, though nothing but a dream, still frightened her.
Erik could see the fear in her eyes. He was used to the look, but this was different. She wasn't afraid of him, just a dream.
"Do not be afraid, mon ange. Nightmares cannot hurt anyone, nor can they come true," he reassured her as he finished cleaning and bandaging her injury. In an impulsive gesture that surprised them both, he gently brushed his lips across her forehead. Christine closed her eyes and shuddered, and Erik looked away, saddened by her obvious disgust of him.
At the small contact of Erik's lips on her skin, Christine felt a pleasant shiver travel down her spine. When she opened her eyes, however, Erik was looking away from her, and he had one of the most dejected looks she had ever seen upon his face.
"Erik, what is the matter?" she asked, concerned.
"Do you have to ask?" he asked bitterly. "You cannot bear to feel any part of my wretched face on your body. I felt you shudder."
"That wasn't a shudder of revulsion. It was one of… joy." She couldn't bring herself to use the word pleasure.
"Do not lie to spare my feelings. I am used fear and repulsion, but pity is something that I cannot tolerate."
"Erik…"
"Christine, don't. You should be getting back to your room. It is late." Christine could see that Erik was turning to his façade of the Phantom, and she wanted to do anything to prevent it. She had grown to care very deeply for Erik, but she hated when he hid behind the image of the emotionless specter that haunted the Opera House. Not knowing what else to do, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips. It was a risky move, and he probably didn't even care for her in that way.
Erik was stunned. Christine, his Christine, was kissing him as if they were lovers. Before he realized what was happening, he had his hands on her waist and was kissing her in return, albeit somewhat awkwardly. It ended as quickly as it began.
"Oh, I am sorry!" Christine exclaimed. "I don't know what I was thinking. I just---"
Erik silenced her with another kiss, this one gentle, loving. She fit perfectly in his embrace and against his lips. Her lips tasted sweet, like honey. He was lost in the sensations that were coursing through his body, feelings of desire, lust, and love clouding his judgment. By a will of its own, one of his hands traveled up to bury itself in Christine's soft brown hair. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.
They seemed to be relying heavily on instinct, since neither of them had ever kissed anyone so seriously before. As Christine's small, pink tongue darted out to explore Erik's thin lips, he pulled back with a gasp.
"Christine, what…? I mean…" The usually articulate Erik was at a loss for words. Only one small sentence seemed to be able to force its way past his lips.
"I love you," he whispered, very apologetic and almost ashamed. He bowed his head, dreading the response that she would give him. Kiss or no kiss, she couldn't love him. No one could love a creature like him. It had been proven more times than he cared to remember.
Christine was at a loss for words. All she could do was smile dumbly as her brain processed what Erik had just said. 'I love you.' She hadn't heard those words directed at her since her father died. She was filled with a giddy feeling that suddenly made her laugh joyfully and hug Erik tightly.
"I love you, too," she said through her laughter. Erik's eyes widened in shock. She loved him. Him! The deformed monster who couldn't even earn the love of his own mother. He had to have heard her wrong. Either that or she was saying it out of pity.
"Christine, do not play games with me. I need to know the truth. If you are merely saying what you said out of pity or despite your true feelings, please tell me now and just leave."
"I do love you. How could I not? You have captured my heart with your songs and your caring words. To me, you are a better man than most of the men I have ever known. You must believe me," she pleaded, searching his eyes desperately.
"Do you blame me for doubting you, Christine? No one has ever spoken those words to me. Not even my mother. Oh, but she told me that she hated me well enough. I ruined her life. I have never been treated with kindness, except by you and Madame Giry, and you two baffle me. Why should you love me and care for me when no one else ever has?" He turned away from her as hot tears started to well up in his eyes.
"Erik…" How did one respond to something like that? Not knowing what to say, she just wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his back. She could feel his shoulders rise and fall shakily, and she knew that he was trying to hold back his sobs. She felt so badly for him, but what could make him forget so many years of pain and suffering?
"Would you like me to stay here with you tonight?" she asked quietly, all thoughts of propriety tucked away out of conscious thought.
Erik hesitated before answering. Of course he wanted her to stay, but he knew that she might regret it, even if they did not do anything improper. He knew that Christine might think that sleeping together in the same room, much less the same bed, would be scandalous and highly immoral. But she had offered…
"I would like that," he said, his voice hoarse from his shed and unshed tears. Christine nodded, and Erik stood up, offering his hand to help her up. She accepted, and did not let go when she was on her feet; instead, she interlaced her fingers with his, a smile on her face. He forced himself to smile back.
He led her to the room that he had built for her, not daring to show her the coffin in which he slept. She sat down on the bed and looked at him expectantly.
"Are you going to stay in here with me?" she asked innocently. Erik took a deep breath and let it out slowly and silently.
"If you would like me to. As long as you do not find it to be improper." His voice was surprisingly even, but his eyes held a hopefulness that he could not hide.
"I do not find it improper to comfort you. If I can make you forget your suffering even for one night, I am willing to do anything."
"Anything, Christine?" he asked, giving her a small, amused smile. She had no idea what she had just implied. His smile turned into a slight chuckle when she blushed.
"Well, almost anything. Don't laugh at me!" she ordered, pouting. That only caused Erik to laugh more.
"I am very sorry. I did not intend to offend you," he told her as he sat next to her, placing his hand behind her head. Then he drew her into a kiss that was slow and deep and sweet. Erik marveled at the fact that Christine was so willing to kiss his malformed lips. In fact, she seemed to enjoy kissing him as much as he was finding that he enjoyed kissing her. This was all he had ever wanted; to be loved by a woman. A new feeling of contentment and happiness was slowly replacing his resentment toward the world. After all, if Christine loved him, what else mattered?
Erik gently pushed Christine down and followed her so that they were both lying down on the bed, never breaking the kiss. This time, he was the one to tentatively meet Christine's lips with his tongue. Her lips parted, allowing their tongues to meet for the first time. Erik moaned softly at the contact. He had never imagined that kissing could be so enjoyable. If he were to die at this very moment, he would die very content and happy.
Christine was enjoying herself as well. She was quickly realizing that, like everything else that Erik did, he was very skilled at kissing, even though he was not very experienced. She had never really thought about kissing with one's tongue, but it definitely wasn't something that she objected to. She shifted so that their bodies were pressed more tightly against one another. Though she wanted nothing more than to kiss him all night, Christine knew that she had to be up early tomorrow. She pulled back so that she and Erik were forehead to forehead. They were both a little out of breath.
"We should get some rest. I have to be at rehearsal tomorrow." Erik's face visibly fell.
"Perhaps you should not stay tonight. It is possible that you will miss rehearsal, and that would not be good."
"Madame Giry will understand if I am late or missing. Perhaps I shall miss the entire rehearsal. It will be for a good cause, and I do need to practice my singing," she said with a smirk. "My music teacher expects so much out of my voice, and I think that my performance has been slipping as of late. I do believe that I will ask him if I may have an all-day lesson tomorrow."
"Absolutely not," he said sternly, a small grin adorning his lips. "You will go to your dance rehearsal tomorrow, or Antoinette will surely have my head. We shall have our rehearsal tomorrow as scheduled, and not a moment sooner." Christine rolled over, pretending to pout. Erik laughed and pulled her against his chest.
"You may stay here tomorrow night if you wish."
"I'd like that," she said sleepily. "Erik, will you sing to me?"
"Of course. What would you like to hear?"
"Your voice. I love you, Erik."
"I love you too, mon ange," he said tenderly, placing a kiss on her cheek. Then he started to sing a song that he had composed for her a few months back. She sighed contently before her breathing became slow and deep. When he had finished the song, he lay awake, simply enjoying the feeling of Christine lying in his arms.
He pulled her closer and rested his head on hers before drifting off to sleep. For the first time in months, his dreams were pleasant and he was truly happy.
& & &
A/N- Aww! I love happy stories. I had to get this out of my system since my other story is so depressing sometimes.
Your ever-obedient author,
AngelOfMusic387