Past the point of no return

BY : spikesbint
Category: M through R > Phantom of the Opera
Dragon prints: 31287
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera movie(s), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter 3

Guilty Secrets

Erik waited in his hiding place until both the women were gone. No doubt, Madame Giry was now aware of his presence. He had until this moment managed to hide his return into Christine's world, but he trusted the older woman to remain faithful to his secret. She had protected him thus far and she was one of the few people that had his confidence.

His body still ached with frustrated desire as he thought of Christine. She had wanted him, it had nothing to do with the opium laced brandy that he kept by his bedside to aid his troubled nights. She was the only woman he had touched and had ever wanted to touch in his whole lonely existence. From the day, she had arrived at the opera house dorms all frightened and alone, he had felt a connection to her. She was fresh with grief for her recently departed father and he a youth no more than twenty had recognised himself in her.

At first, his only desire had only been to protect her from the harshness of the world, which he had experienced, knowing all too well the pain of being friendless and alone. As she had grown in age and beauty, he had felt his heart warm towards her and for the first time in his piteous existence, he had dared to dream that he was not destined to solitude for a cruel fate of birth. When alone, he still felt the sting of his master’s club beating his bruised flesh as he was exposed for the public’s amusements. She had chased all that away as he had felt the stirrings of desire for her.

He had been responsible for her sensual awakening into womanhood and the Vicomte had reaped the rewards that should have been his. She had denied him and betrayed him to a childhood memory in the shape of the handsome Vicomte.

Waiting a few moments more, he re-entered his bedroom and found the rose, crushed against the sheets. He could still smell her fragrance in the empty room. He walked over to the window and watched Christine walk away from him yet again. The delicate petals of the flower he held fell to the floor unheeded. He slammed his fist against the sill in bitter frustration. He turned and went into the other room of the house and sat at the piano. Here at least he could find some release. Erik closed his eyes and touched the keys, before pounding at them violently. They vibrated and thrummed beneath his touch as Christine had writhed beneath him. Even now, he could still feel the warm heat of her body as he had opened it to his gaze before tasting her.

A little of her still lingered on his lips as he re-moistened them, unable to deny himself the natural sensuality of the human animal he was. He was if not anything else in this world a man with needs and wants and his body would not be denied. He closed the lid to the piano, walked back to his room, and lay on the bed, occupying the same place she had, only a short while ago.

“Christine,” he whispered with longing to the silent room.

Erik fumbled with his clothing. He closed his eyes, and she was there with him, touching his body and giving him pleasure that he had only dreamt of in his wildest imaginings. In his fantasies, she opened herself to him, impatient to know his possession. Her legs wrapping around his hips drawing him in deeper as he reached her in ways, both physically and spiritually that her husband would never be able to.

He let out an anguished cry as he came, spilling his anger and want on the silken sheets. Enraged at himself for his body’s weakness, he hid his face in the coolness of the pillow.

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

“Thank you Madame Giry. I think I needed a guide after all,” sighed Christine as she was helped into bed. “I drank some brandy at that old house and felt unwell. Everything after that was a little muddled,” lied Christine. Her cheeks were tinged with the evidence of her lies. “Who lives there?”

“I have no idea,” Madame Giry replied smoothly, as she arranged the sheets around the girl.

“Oh, it’s just that I could have sworn someone was there with me…someone,” she broke off.

She was still uncertain exactly what had transpired in that house. However, she was not ready to scrutinize it with her stand-in mother. She had Raoul to face after so wantonly having welcomed another’s touch, whether it were real or imagined. The heat between her legs told a different story. She could still feel the imprint of his kisses on her flesh. Even now she craved more, disgusted at her infidelity of mind and possibly body, she hid her face in the pillows.

“Please leave me,”

“If you are sure Christine. Maybe I should send for a doctor?” she asked hesitantly.

“No, I will be fine. I just need to rest,” Christine replied turning over in the bed to face the wall. Whatever she was ailing for, she was sure no physician could cure.

The idea that Erik could possibly be back and living on her husband’s estate was too shocking to believe. No, she had just fallen asleep and had another dream about her old master. She shivered, her eyes widening at the idea that she should think of him so. Raoul if anyone held that title. Then why were all these unbidden desires coming back to haunt her? She knew she should tell her husband of the strange events that had occurred this afternoon, but she found she was reluctant to. Just the mention of her tutor’s name sent him into a black humour. He was merciful in many things except where it came to his rival. What could she say without condemning herself?

Her thoughts were disturbed by the arrival of her husband in a flurry of concern as he strode towards the bed. Sometimes she found it stifling. He treated her as if she were a porcelain doll, about to break at any time. Guilty at her disloyal thoughts, she turned her face towards him in the semblance of a smile. Seeing such adoration for her on his face caused guilty tears to spring to her eyes. She felt she must look the immoral woman she surely was.

The phantom had talked of her darkness, he knew her better than she knew herself. She knew deep down that she had been denying her true nature beneath a cloak of respectability and there was something almost spiritual the way Erik’s blood called to her own. She felt it even now. The pull, that desire for him.

“Are you sick? Should I call for doctor Vallaurio?” He asked, touching a hand to her forehead. “You are burning up!”

She shook her head “No really I am well, I just need to get some rest,” she assured him.

He took her tiny hand in his. “Is there any chance that you could be enceinte?”

She blushed. “No, at least I don’t think so,”

“I am sorry, but I had to ask,” he smiled at her gently.

Christine let out the breath she had been holding in. She knew that there was always pressure on landed noblemen to procure an heir as soon as possible, even though their young lives stretched out before them. She smiled at the thought of children…family to warm her days, and lessen her feeling of loneliness that still washed over her at times. She had hoped to be with child on the return of their wedding trip, but as of yet that joy had been denied her.

Her thoughts drifted unbidden to Erik again. In a way, they had been two of a kind, adrift in the world, and alone by no fault of their own. They had comforted each other with their mutual love of music and the arts. She no longer judged him for his murderous acts. Not that it made his actions right, but he did not know better, having had no benefit of a guardian to raise him, save Madame Giry. She had been busy with her own family after the death of her husband. With sudden insight she realised that she had been his saviour as much as he had been hers.

“I’m tired Raoul,” she sighed, stroking his cheek.

He bent his head to kiss her hand. “And that is my cue to leave?” he asked.

“And I thought you knew nothing of the arts!” she smiled up at him.

“I know enough to know I fell in love all over again with a beautiful talented actress,” he replied.

“Who is she? If I catch her…” she started laughing at his stunned expression. “Really Raoul you are wonderful for my self-esteem,”

“I just thank every day that you chose me, over that monster,” he said gravely.

Her smile faded. “Let’s not talk of such things; I need to get some sleep so that I will be fit to join you for dinner,”

“Very well my love, I have invited several friends over. It is time I showed you off to my neighbours,” he said before taking her hand and kissing it.

She smiled at him until he had left the room. Her cheeks aching with the effort, relaxed as soon as the door closed behind him. Christine buried her head in the pillows and wept until sleep finally claimed her.

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

Dinner had been a success in Raoul’s eyes, he had chatted comfortably with old friends, while Christine had smiled at all the right times. She often felt inadequate, unable to compete with the history that Raoul and his comrades shared. After all, she was nothing, but the daughter of a humble violinist. Who although he had died in fame, had left her without fortune. In addition, tonight for some reason she felt it more keenly. She wasn’t sure if it was the pointed looks of their guests, and glances they gave her, as if expecting her to do something indecorous at any moment or her own insecurities that had made her feel so.

She removed her clothing for bed. Raoul helped her out of her undergarments, the maid having been dismissed for the evening. She sighed as he pressed soft kisses against her throat and encircled her waist, bringing her up against his hard body. She turned in his arms and returned his kisses, before pulling away.

“Do you mind awfully? I am so tired after all that occurred today my love,” she asked.

He nodded at her in understanding. She almost wavered, at his gentle acquiescence, feeling she did not deserve this wonderful man before her, but she could not submit to him in good conscience after her earlier sinful behaviour. The more she thought about it, the more she realised it could not have been a dream. She lay down next to her husband and waited until she heard his even breathing before rising from her bed and quickly dressing in her black riding habit and making for the stables. So far, she had been undetected as she led her horse out onto the pathway, not mounting it until she was on soft grass.

She rode at a full gallop until she reached her destination. She dismounted her horse, tied it to a tree, and entered the darkened copse. The soft glow of a candle, peeping through the wooden slats of the abandoned cottage beckoned her. Her heart raced within her breast as she drew nearer to her goal. For a moment, she faltered as she questioned her behaviour, but her feet kept bringing her closer as she felt his pull once more.

She stood before the door, hardly daring to breathe for fear she would give herself away. The decision was taken away from her as the door was wrenched open and a figure, cloaked in partial shadow stood there looking at her. His breathing was as ragged as her own was.

“I-I don’t understand why I am here,” she whispered.

“Christine the heart will always want what it should not have,” he replied raggedly.

“But my husband,”

“Tonight there are no husbands and wives, only you and I. Come to me Christine,” he held out an arm and moved to the side of the door, allowing her entrance.

She cautiously put her hand in his and allowed him to lead her inside the cottage and he closed and locked the door behind them.


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