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 4

Dark Despair


They stood facing each other in the darkened room. The silence hung heavy, with nothing but the sound of their breathing to soften it. He watched the warring emotions flit across her face as a battle raged within her. She wanted to be here, but it was killing her too. He could see it in the glitter of tears that shone in her chocolate brown eyes as she looked up at him helplessly.

His hold over her not lessened in the months they had been apart. Her easy submission had pleased him beyond any words that she could have spoken. In the moment that she had taken his hand and followed him inside the house, he had felt a fierce surge of joy, however fleeting.

By putting herself into his keeping, he wanted there to be no regrets on her part. He wanted her to have the full knowledge that she was betraying her husband with every touch and moment of pleasure he gave her. Christine owned his heart even now, but the bitter anger he felt at her betrayal of all they had had, and meant to each other still raged on inside of him. She had made her choice, the handsome Vicomte, and he had been left to pick up the pieces of his existence.

She was surprised as he walked over to the piano and sat down. He bowed his head over the keys and he began to play a haunting melody, which floated around the room. Christine gasped as the pull of the music flooded her soul. She gripped the edges of the chair as it continued to wrap its self around her like the erotic touch of a lover.

She closed her eyes hoping to stem the tears that threatened to spill. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

She had thought her quietly spoken words would be rendered inaudible by the music. However no sooner than they were uttered, the playing ceased as he slammed the lid down on the piano and strode across the room. Shocking her as her eyes snapped open to find his face was, but mere inches from her own.

“It was for you,” he growled at her.

The fury blazed in his eyes, frightening her and arousing her at the same time. She trembled at the heat building in the pit of her stomach and spreading through her. Erik put out a hand and touched the pulse in her throat, feeling her accelerated heartbeat.

She did not flinch away from his touch as his hand moved lower. A long finger stroked the edges of her black riding dress, to slowly pop the buttons and slide a hand inside. She looked deep into his eyes, held by the emotions she read in them…the love and adoration he struggled to hide, but failed. She responded to it, in a basic primeval way. Returning the look, as she unconsciously licked her suddenly dry lips. Erik sucked in a breath as he followed the movements of her tongue. His other hand pulled at the pins in her hair to let it fall in waves around her shoulders.

“Why did you come back?” she asked.

He looked at her, “Need you ask? I tried to stay away. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go. I need you Christine,” He admitted on a sigh.

She gasped as his hand slipped lower and cupped her small firm breast.

“Don’t,” she begged.

He smiled at her, “Don’t,” he mimicked cruelly. “Your lips may say one thing, but your eyes and body beg for something quite different. You cannot hide from me Christine. You never could,” He pulled her roughly against him, making her aware of his need for her. “I felt it that night on the stage and I feel it now,”

He lowered his head. His breath heavy against her lips as they touched hers, lightly as first, before grinding against them in a soul-destroying kiss. Christine struggled until the heat of his kiss reached through her and she felt the ache between her thighs increase. She opened her mouth to him, his tongue invading her deeply. She trembled against him. Sure, she would have fallen if he had not held on to her so tightly.

She cried out as Erik tore the front of her dress and sent the buttons flying onto the hard wooden floor. She welcomed the ferocity of his caresses as he lifted her up against the wall and ground himself against her. She wrapped a leg around his waist as he continued to thrust against her and his lips travelled down her throat.

Christine wound her fingers into his hair, as she felt his tongue suckle at her bare breast, and pulled his head down to her flesh. Her hands left his hair as she tugged at the edges of his mask. He took her questing hand and pinned it above the wall, his eyes glittered angrily at her.

“Has he ever made you feel this way? You burn for me Christine, for my possession of your body. This is the point of no return, no more make believe,”

He swept her up in his arms and carried her effortlessly to the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. As she lay back on the pillows, tears fell down her cheeks, which were almost his undoing. He hardened his heart against them as he continued his assault on her body and her senses.

“The point of no return,” she replied softly, knowing that begging was futile and would only sound false in this truth.

In her heart, she knew that this moment was always fated to happen from the instant that she had seen her Angel in the flesh. She had shared things with him that should have been for Raoul alone, but she could no longer feel shame as he joined her on the bed and covered her body with his own. How could she? When it felt as if she were coming home. Her body knew its mate no matter how much she railed against it.

Erik lifted himself to look down at her, drinking in the sight of her on his bed as he had imagined doing so a thousand times before in his dreams. She helped him with the remaining buttons on her dress. He pulled it down her body and dropped it to the floor. She slipped her hands underneath the edges of his shirt and helped him pull it over his head. His body did not suffer from the same infirmity of his face. He was beautifully sculpted, and naturally strong.

She sensed a slight hesitation in his touch as he stroked her shoulders, and placed kisses down the length of her body. Christine knew she was his first. He had told her that he had been denied the joys of the flesh, when he had made known his intentions to her, deep in the bowels of the opera house. She smiled gently at him as his head travelled back up to claim her lips once more. She parted her legs allowing him to settle between them. Still too many layers of clothes parted them. She writhed in frustration, and he sensed its source. Everything that he did with her was instinctive and the culmination of his many imaginings.

He left her for a moment and shed the rest of his clothing. She mourned the loss of his warmth as she shyly removed her chemise to lay naked before him, body and soul. He rejoined her on the bed, still encased in the one final barrier that he had yet to remove…the white mask. He nodded at her almost imperceptibly as her hands crept up his face. She read the fear in his eyes as her hands touched the edges. As she slowly peeled it away from his face, he looked at her intently for her reaction. She already knew what lie behind this mask; it could no longer affect her, as he still seemed to fear.

Christine removed the mask entirely and he almost sobbed as she continued to look at him with the same need as before. Her hand travelled down between their bodies as she wrapped a hand around him, positioning him at the entrance to her body. Her eyes never leaving his as she urged him forward.

Erik moaned, as he slid into her and they watched each other for several moments, until he regained control of his body. She stroked the rough cheek of his disfigurement, seeing only beauty. He hid his face in the curve of her neck unable to bear the compassion in her eyes a moment longer. His frustration and loss began to take over him once more, as he began to thrust into her with increasing aggression. She wrapped her legs around his waist, welcoming the assault on her body as it expunged some of the torment she knew she had caused him. She felt the wetness of tears as he crushed his lips to hers, and she felt deep urgency grow within her, as she struggled to reach some unknown point.

“Christine!” he cried out, gasping as he came, taking her over the precipice of desire with him. She sobbed out his name as pleasure so intense, flooded her body and for a moment, she feared that she would faint.

Their breathing slowed, and they were still joined at they locked gazes once more. Christine pushed her hands against his shoulders as sanity and guilt returned to her afresh. Erik read the shame in her eyes and smiled cruelly at her for a moment before releasing her and getting up from the bed. She watched as he began to pull on his discarded clothing.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Why my dear, there must be a husband missing you by now. Surely you would not want him to find you so?” He eyed her disdainfully.

Christine put a hand to her mouth as the horror of what she had done reached her. She loved Raoul. She was his wife of, but six months and she had betrayed him with the man whom had almost murdered him.

“No man can serve two masters Christine, no woman for that matter. Wouldn’t it be delicious if my bastard were growing inside you right now? I wonder how the high and mighty Vicomte would take that? I rather like the idea of my son being heir to all this,”

“Please don’t” she sobbed into the pillow as he threw her dress at her. She rose slowly from the bed and she dressed herself in the remnants of her torn clothing as best possible.

Erik turned away at the sound of her distress before he weakened and took her into his arms. He wanted her to suffer as he had, to know his anguish and pain.

Christine felt every inch the courtesan that she knew she must surely look. Their passion of earlier left a bitter taste in her mouth as she glimpsed herself in one of the bedroom mirrors.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he sensed it, holding up a hand to silence her, before passing her the key to the house. “Leave me,” he growled, sounding akin to a wounded animal.

Christine turned and fled the room. He heard the key turn in the lock, and walked into the other room. The door was flung wide. He went over to it, seeing only the darkness of the night. He wrapped his arms around himself as he realised with an angst-ridden cry…to hurt her was only to hurt himself.

As she mounted her horse and rode away, she heard his cry echo into the night and closed her eyes against it, returning to the life she had chosen and the husband that adored her.

TBC


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