Page 22 of Angel's Fall
Erik shrugged and floated towards Christine, noting how her pale skin glowed in the shadows, beckoning him like a beacon.
“Have you ever seen Charles Garnier?” she asked. “I hear he visits.”
“Once, from afar.” Erik recalled how tired the architect of the Opera had looked as he lingered at the foot of thegrand escalierto observe the crowds filling his creation. “Part of me wanted to thank him for building my home.”
“And part of you wanted to share your many suggestions on ways he could have improved the design.”
“You know me too well.”
“What would you change?” Christine asked, looking out towards the auditorium as she leaned on Faust’s worktable.
Erik had an answer ready. “The chandelier is a bit much, honestly, especially when it’s always on during performances. All it does is make it easier for the rich to look at each other and gossip. Another thing the patrons have ruined.”
He watched as Christine’s expression darkened to match the bitterness in his voice. “Don’t think about him right now.”
“I can’t help it,” Erik sighed as he took in her beauty. “It’s worse than sharing you with an audience.”
“Yet you manage that. Because you know I sing for you. Every note. It will be the same with him.” Erik took a step towards her and Christine gave a wicked smile as she sat herself on the table and toyed with the lacy border of her chemise and corset. “When I sing, your music is inside me. Do you know I can feel it as surely as if you’re making love to me?”
“Can you?” Erik purred as Christine stretched languidly on the table. “How scandalous.”
“I can feel it right now,” she went on, tugging her petticoat up and exposing her thigh. “Nearly.”
“Well, you’re not singing.” Erik’s mouth went dry as she smiled, pulling the petticoat higher.
“Love is a rebellious bird who none can tame and will not come when called.” The seductive notes of Carmen’s “Habanera” echoed through the empty theater with pure sensuality. It drew Erik like a moth to a flame, driving away any thoughts but the woman performing for him alone, as she continued to run her hands over her body.
Erik knew what she was doing, the seduction and distraction she offered as her defiant songs seeped into his blood. He was grateful for it, as much as he was enthralled. He approached beside the table, drawn to her light, and caressed her as she stretched and preened before him, casually knocking the props aside.
“Nothing helps, neither threats nor prayers. One man speaks well, another is silent.It’s the other I prefer, he is quiet, but I like his looks.” Christine’s eyes were dark as she sang to him, and Erik’s hands moved over her breasts and hips and thighs of their own power, insistent and seeking.
Her song became a sigh as he touched her, pressing right above her cunt. There was so little fabric between them that Erik could feel her rising heat. His cock answered it, beginning to stiffen beneath his cloak. Christine gasped when Erik withdrew his hand but sang on.
“Oh love, oh love,” Christine called, her melody husky as Erik pulled her by the arms through the books and bric-a-brac, dragging her gently to the edge of the table so he could reach all of her, his hands sweeping over her stomach to her eagerly parted thighs once again. “Oh love,oh love...”
Erik kissed her at the end of the phrase and they became the music in turn, her mouth opening to his as she twisted to embrace him. He pulled her close, groaning as she wrapped her legs around him. More blood raced to his cock as Christine’s body met his, and he ached for her. He wanted her. Healwayswanted her and somehow, she wanted him in return. When his hands slipped up her thighs, delving into her wet sex, she answered by groping at his tightening trousers.
“Right here?” Erik asked as Christine freed his cock and let him pull her to the edge of the table while he remained standing.
“I want to feel this, the next time I sing here,” Christine purred back. “I want you to remember how every time I’m on this stage, you’re inside me.”
Erik entered her in one swift, inevitable motion, sheathing himself in her body as she cried out. He fumbled at her corset fastening as he thrust into her, frenzied and feral, as desperate for her skin beneath his hands as he was for the tight welcome of her cunt.
In a few breaths, her breasts were free, and she leaned back on the table to display herself as Erik fucked into her. He watched the perfect globes bounce with each movement, her nipples dark and tight. He listened to her moans and the slick sound of their bodies meeting. It was obscene – to have her here, to claim her like this, in the place where all of Paris would watch her sing a few nights hence. Erik loved it.
“Harder,” Christine gasped, and Erik obliged, the table rattling beneath her as their bodies joined.
“He’ll have you during the day,” Erik panted, drawing forth a perfect symphony of ecstasy from his diva’s throat. “But I have this. Only I know you like this.”
“Yes!” Christine cried as he drove into her, his pleasure racing towards its peak, heat and passion consuming them as one.
The sound she made as she came, back arching off the table, was music, a secret song bursting forth just for him as she clamped around him and sent him over the edge with her. Erik moaned in harmony with her body as he spilled, pleasure transporting him to a realm where their souls were nothing but song, mixed together as one. Entwined and tangled forever.
“I’m going to take you home now,” Erik purred, as he laid his masked cheek against his lover’s flushed chest and licked at her nipple. He would take her back to his hidden abode, far from all prying eyes and cruel judgments. “I’m going to take you home and have you again and again. I’m going to fuck you with my tongue and my hands and my cock. I’m going to make you come so hard so many times, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow without thinking of me.”
“Please,” Christine whimpered in reply. “Make me remember.”
Erik smiled and yanked her into his arms. He would remind them both tonight of what they were. Of how desire and love would forever bind them. He would make sure Christine knew that no foolish boy who thought he was a hero could ever take her away.
