"Maestro?" The man playing the organ stopped to turn around and acknowledge that soft, sweet voice that called him. His eyes lazily bored into her hazel ones.

"What is it, Christine?"

She looked from left to right, opening her mouth, then closing it. He glanced at her lips, which were slowly parting, finding it hard to control himself from thinking impure thoughts about what he wanted to do with those soft, pink lips as she approached him. He shook his head, trying to clear away the thoughts but his efforts were futile.

Unsure of the right words to ask this question, she played with her hands, as he stared at her, finding it quite adorable that she's stuttering in front of him.

"I know we've known each other for so long…" she started, sitting beside him. He stiffened as he felt her bare arms slightly touch his sleeves. There was a barrier that didn't allow their skin to touch but he can feel the softness of her skin from his clothing. He didn't say anything, just waited for what is it that she wanted to ask. She hesitated at first, thinking that he'll never provide her with such information, but she was curious and it was just a simple question to answer, right?

"May I ask what your name is, Maestro?" She muttered quietly, as if it was a question that was forbidden to be asked.

"And why should I give out my name, child?"

She blushed and looked down, not missing the name he called her. Child? She was a woman! She raised her eyes to his emerald ones and quietly said,

"I am not a child, I am a woman."

Oh, he knew that. He very well did. He was with her since she was young and was brought to the Opera Populaire. He always sang to her, convincing her that he was an angel sent by her dead father, an angel of music. He had to lie, for he cannot bear to see this innocent child in tears, and he simply cannot show himself to her so soon. He was frightened that she will shun him just as the world did. He was barely a human. A monster, he likes to call himself. For half of his face is nothing but a curse and this curse is hidden beneath a white mask that was covering the right side of his face. He was nothing but a father figure to a child he just laid his eyes upon. Yet, she gave him a reason to still live. He never failed to guide her, to teach her everything he knew. She was just like his daughter and student but years and years passed, it turned into something else. He did notice the changes in her body, but the idea of him being attracted to his student is just wrong. He didn't want to ruin their relationship if ever he fell in love with her. But little did he know, he already fell in love with her since he laid his eyes on her.

Since she turned into a woman, he just couldn't take his eyes off her. He had never seen such pure innocence and beauty in his whole life, he had to control himself every time he saw her, because all he wanted to do is grab her and roam his hands on her beautiful face, porcelain skin, and perfect, heavenly curves. He cursed himself for even thinking like this about his innocent student. How can she not know how inviting her beauty is? Her beauty is a sin and so is her golden voice.

Things got worse when one night, he couldn't take it anymore, and so he appeared in the mirror and sang to her, his alluring voice left her breathless, and that, he knew. He reached out his hand, it was shaking, because he was not sure if she would go with him and it's been so long since he came in contact physically with a human. But no, this is no ordinary mortal. This was his angel.

Her hand grasping his gloved hand made him gasp and he was consumed with such fire in his body. He had the urge to touch her right there and then, but he would not taint his student. He may be hideous, but not that hideous to even dare to take away her innocence. He led her gently to his lair, singing as he did. She was dazed by his presence and voice that the whole time he dragged her; she did not utter a single word. His voice casted a spell upon her and she was indeed happy to finally see her angel and trusted mentor, but a little betrayed that her so-called angel is the infamous Phantom of the Opera.

While he sang her a lullaby, he held her close, and he heard her quiet gasp as he lightly roamed his hands on the sides of her breast to her petite waist. But he quickly pulled away, realizing that he just touched his student without really intending to. She was just so… seducing. He cussed and vowed to never do such a repulsive thing. It made him feel less of a man to give up to his raging hormones.

Since the day that he showed himself to her, he regretted it immediately. But there's no turning back now. He expected her to turn her back on him, but she did the opposite, she asked him if he would continue coaching her. She did tell him that she felt betrayed but he reasoned out his appearance. She just stared at him and told him that appearances do not matter in her eyes. Easy for her to say, she hasn't seen what kind of monstrosity is behind his mask. And he would never dare to make her look at it.

"I am aware of that, little girl." He assured her. The huskiness in his voice made her blush and shiver.

"If you already noticed it, then why give me such ludicrous names?" She replied in a small voice. She was always cautious about her reply. His temper frightened her but sometimes, she can't help fighting back.

"That is none of your business." Coldly, he returned to his work. He always ended conversations with that line. When he doesn't like where the conversation is going, he simply uses a cold tone and goes back to whatever he is doing. She doesn't like it. Never did.

"Why won't you tell me your name?" She asked, trying to persuade him to answer.

"Because an angel as beautiful as you does not have to speak a demon's name." He answered, not even looking at her but at his music. He held his breath, why had his lips always found a way to betray his brain? He was not supposed to say that out loud. It just slipped, he shook his head and put those thoughts away, what's done is done.

Christine, however, blushed a hundred shades of red at that comment. He always called her beautiful. People always acknowledged how much of an angel figure she is and she knows it. But somehow, the way he compliments her gives her feelings that were supposed to not be felt for her mentor. She glanced at him, and she knew at that moment, she had always loved him. He was always there for her, guiding her. She fell in love with him since the moment she heard his voice, his music. His voice made her soul soar and she heard as she'd never heard before. She observed the features of the man before her, the right side of his face is covered by a white mask, yet for Christine, that's what made him more…. attractive. She sighed at the sight of his sparkling green, emerald eyes that burned right through her. She examined his well-built body, broad shoulders, strong arms, and long fingers. He had once touched her lightly, and her body was aching for that touch once again. She felt blood rise up to her cheeks again as she realized how sinful her thoughts are. Her mentor would never want to touch her. Did he?

"You are not a demon." She quietly commented. He looked at her, stopping with his work, yet again.

"Christine-"

"You're my angel."

He inhaled and closed his eyes as those words of her rang through his ears. Her voice intoxicated him and her words were just too much for him to handle.

"That's why I want to know the name of my angel." She added, hopefully, he would give this basic information.

He remained silent.

She sighed and sat closer to him, she felt him freeze.

"What can I do in exchange of your name?" She asked innocently. Not knowing, a series of wild thoughts were running through her mentor's head as she asked what she could do for him. He silently cursed himself, he didn't relax, how could he? When the woman in front of him is innocently asking him what he wants. He wanted her. And she didn't know how he ached so much for her. He clenched his fists.

"You don't know what you're asking for." He hissed through clenched teeth, controlling his urges to pin her down. She wondered why he was acting like that, is it too much to ask for his name? Why is he being so stiff while they're close together? Doesn't he enjoy her company? She asked herself, hurt by his reaction. Clearly, that would be the reason. She began to annoy him with her presence. And knowing that, it hurt too much to even think about it.

"I'm sorry." She clenched the skirt of her dress as she stopped the tears threatening to fall down her face. But the more she stopped it, the more it wants to fall. She was shaking, and then, tears fell.

He stared at his student, shocked that he made her cry unintentionally. Why was her reaction like that? Did he say something that hurt her? He reached out his hand to pull her into his arms but stopped. He did not want to touch her. She was an angel who is forbidden to be touched by a devil. And he, he was a devil himself.

"I'm sorry if I bother you with my presence." She said between sobs. She wanted him to embrace her, to tell her that what she was thinking were her own and was not in any way, the truth. She wanted him to touch her, to feel his warm body against her. She wanted his arms enveloping her fragile body. She wanted his lips on her. She wanted him.

Bother him? What was she talking about? He needed her. He wants her beside him. He lives for her. She was like oxygen that he can't even think that he could live without her presence!

His silence confirmed that her thoughts were true.

"Do you not want me?" She stared into his eyes, tears blurring her eyesight. He could see the hurt in her eyes, and he did not want to even look at them, it pained him. Her question was absurd. He wanted her so much. Yet he knows he could not have her.

"Am I not desirable for you, Maestro?" She added and that was the last straw. He got up, grabbed her wrist and dragged her. He reached the wall and pushed her roughly against it, his arms on the sides of her head, cornering her. He growled angrily, staring at her shocked, wet face. She trembled under his authority. She saw his eyes were burning with passion and lust. Did he want her? She searched his eyes, trying to find the answer. Did she, herself satisfied what he wants in a woman?

"M-Maes-"

"You are very desirable, you don't know how my body craves for you, Christine." He groaned.

He roughly brought his own lips to her, giving into his urges, he didn't care anymore, he wanted her, and now. He wanted to explore her, every inch of her skin, every detail of her curves. Just thinking about her drove him mad. He pressed his body onto hers and she moaned into his mouth. That sound which came from her just made him more insane. His touches landed on her soft, perfect breasts. He rubbed them, enjoying the pleasure of touching such entireness. She gasped as a jolt of electricity rushed through her, she arched her roundness against his hands, begging for more. She snaked her arms around his neck and brought his face closer. She wanted more, she cried in pleasure as he brought his heated kisses on her neck, bringing his touches past her hips to her thighs and lightly squeezed them, teasing her, she felt herself getting wet. They can't get enough of each other's touch; both were lost in sinful fantasy and lust.

She felt his arousal grow and unconsciously caressed it, she heard him groan and pull away. They were both gasping for air.

Damn it! He cursed, he shouldn't have…He shouldn't have done that. He almost lost control. If he haven't stopped, then who knows what he might…. force her to do? Would he really steal away her innocence? No. And never will he make the same mistake to touch his student again. He turned his back on her and started to walk away.

"Maestro?" She called out, still breathless and flushed.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have." His voice stated blankly as if nothing had happened. He would hate himself for doing this to Christine. But… He felt that she wanted him. Did she? No, of course not. No one would want or love a monster like him. He stared at his hands and reminisced about the few minutes they touched each other fiercely, nothing he ever felt before. He remembered the way her curves felt under his long fingers.

"Erik." He finally answered her question.

Erik is the name of the devil who wants you desperately but cannot have you.

I just edited some parts. I hope I kind of made the almost-sexual scene better, if you read this again. But then, I do not have any experience in writing these kind of scenes, I do read rated M ones, but just enough to know how to put the imagination in the minds of the readers. Anyways, enjoy ! :)) TEAM PHANTOM! WHOOOOO!