errorYou must be logged in to review this story.
Little Delilah
folder
M through R › Phantom of the Opera
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
4,546
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Phantom of the Opera
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
4,546
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
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.
Black Roses in a Brides Bouquet
Chapter 5--Black Roses in a Brides Bouquet
Feather-light kisses on her forehead, nose and cheeks. Stirring slightly, her eyes fluttered open. Her precious Angel lay next to her, smiling with twinkling eyes. Reaching up she stroked his left cheek gently with her hand. He leaned into her touch, lightly kissing her thumb. He's finally become accustomed to my touching his left cheek
Christine smiled as she stretched her arms above her head, arching her back at the same time. Her lover's eyes seared her naked flesh with his eyes. She blushed as his eyes devoured ever inch of her body--those mesmerizing and beautiful eyes.
She turned her head, her hair falling across her body, and curled against his chest.
‘Why do you hide yourself, my love?’ he teased, his hands stroking her back and sides. She lightly drew figures on his flesh with her fingertip while she thought.
Why did she hide herself? He showed her his weakest point without qualms now so why shouldn't she? Why did she hide her body from his gaze? She looked up at her beautiful gargoyleNo, not gargoyle-they are hard and cold; he is my lost angel for he is soft and warmand smirked slightly. He gave her a questioning look when she smiled, producing a giggle from her.
‘Maybe I am unused to my lover's eyes consuming my flesh with just a look,’ she blushed again, turning her head against his arm.
‘As am I not used to my love caressing my imperfect face,’ he replied, ‘but I have grown accustomed and have begun to enjoy it even.’
His finger under her chin turned her face to his so that their foreheads touched, her eyes forced into his intense gaze.
‘My love, my Christine,’ her Angel purred, ‘you are beautiful; do not doubt that; any man would fight to have the privilege of your company just to look at you and know you.’
She cast her eyes from his at his compliment, but yet a question came to her mindI'll ask it later for its not important now
‘Look at me, my Ange de la Musiquè,’ her love reprimanded her, bringing her out of her thoughts.
‘Yes, my Ange?’ she replied, her eyes looking in his again.
‘To have you love me seems almost like a crime against nature,’ he expressed, ‘but if you feel it in your heart (his hand on her breast over her heart) than I will not argue for I have learned there is no reasoning with the heart.’ He smiled at her now and she knew he was speaking of his love for her. Laying her hand over his on her breast, Christine lightly kissed his lips.
‘Do not doubt my love for you,’ she began, ‘if I have not proven myself true on that than please tell me what I must do to prove myself to you.’ Gently squeezing his hand she continued, ‘Those men you say would fight over me, to me they are boys not worthy of a glance. Compared to mi Ange no man will ever be so handsome or intelligent or passionate to me.’
Now was his turn to blush, her beautiful Angel's cheeks the colour of pale roses. ‘Now, my love, tell me of this man for I would like to know who my adversary is,’ he teased.
She giggled and tickled him in the sides. He tickled her back and soon their play fighting resulted in her being pinned beneath him on the bed. Both were breathing hard and had flushed skin from their playing.
Brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face, her Angel looked at her with the hungry eyes of an animal. When he bent his body down to hers, his lips caressed the tender flesh on her neck and the lobes of her ears; she felt something move inside her. Worry soon was replaced by pleasure at the realization that it was his fingers exploring her centre, discovering more of her body. His lips on hers she nearly bit his tongue when his fingers found a place inside her, sensitive yet pleasurable, that made her quiver. Smiling, his hand left her center so that his need could enter there.
Rocking her hips gently she produced a moan from his lips. As his hips thrust against hers, she felt him touch the spot that made her quiver. Her back arched against her dark Angel's chest, allowing him better entry to her centre. His thrusts grew more forceful, almost to pain, when she felt her body begin its climb to its climax. He was there, climbing, with her, as she felt his body tense and his breathing quicken.
Showering his neck and shoulder with kisses Christine knew her climax was imminent. As she came, her voice was muffled by his tender neck, she heard him moan a name, her name, softly but soon louder until his song of her was nearly a scream. As she came down from the heights of their mutual passion she was able to huskily sing out 'Le Fantome' before her body was spent.
His hot flesh lay atop hers, he still inside her heated depths, brought a smile of contentment to her lips. Wrapping her arms around him, his hands tangled in her hair, she fell asleep in her lover's arms once again.
***
There was a man lying on the floor by the mirror, tossing fitfully as if in a nightmare. Gasping, he sat up, his face covered in a cold sweat. Looking at his surroundings, the man sighed. Opening his hand, a gold chain glittered in his palm. Standing slowly, his shoulders sagged as he walked to the door. His hands turned the knob, opened the door, and stepping out into the hall, closed the door behind him softly.
As he walked down the dark deserted hallway, soft voices began to fill the empty dressing room. On the other side of the mirror, a man and a woman walked towards the doorway between worlds. Embracing each other, their lips touching briefly, they murmured their goodbyes. The man touched the wall and the woman walked through the newly opened mirror. Looking back with longing, the woman stepped into the dressing room and fondled a ring on her finger. The mirror slid shut, allowing her only a view of herself.
She collapsed on the floor, weeping, much the same way the man fell against the wall on the other side of the mirror. His tears fell freely and he touched his own finger, decorated by a ring, as he watched the woman cry.
***
Thanks to all your help spikesbint! I love your work and you are an abselute genious! Mwah!
Angel Marie
Feather-light kisses on her forehead, nose and cheeks. Stirring slightly, her eyes fluttered open. Her precious Angel lay next to her, smiling with twinkling eyes. Reaching up she stroked his left cheek gently with her hand. He leaned into her touch, lightly kissing her thumb. He's finally become accustomed to my touching his left cheek
Christine smiled as she stretched her arms above her head, arching her back at the same time. Her lover's eyes seared her naked flesh with his eyes. She blushed as his eyes devoured ever inch of her body--those mesmerizing and beautiful eyes.
She turned her head, her hair falling across her body, and curled against his chest.
‘Why do you hide yourself, my love?’ he teased, his hands stroking her back and sides. She lightly drew figures on his flesh with her fingertip while she thought.
Why did she hide herself? He showed her his weakest point without qualms now so why shouldn't she? Why did she hide her body from his gaze? She looked up at her beautiful gargoyleNo, not gargoyle-they are hard and cold; he is my lost angel for he is soft and warmand smirked slightly. He gave her a questioning look when she smiled, producing a giggle from her.
‘Maybe I am unused to my lover's eyes consuming my flesh with just a look,’ she blushed again, turning her head against his arm.
‘As am I not used to my love caressing my imperfect face,’ he replied, ‘but I have grown accustomed and have begun to enjoy it even.’
His finger under her chin turned her face to his so that their foreheads touched, her eyes forced into his intense gaze.
‘My love, my Christine,’ her Angel purred, ‘you are beautiful; do not doubt that; any man would fight to have the privilege of your company just to look at you and know you.’
She cast her eyes from his at his compliment, but yet a question came to her mindI'll ask it later for its not important now
‘Look at me, my Ange de la Musiquè,’ her love reprimanded her, bringing her out of her thoughts.
‘Yes, my Ange?’ she replied, her eyes looking in his again.
‘To have you love me seems almost like a crime against nature,’ he expressed, ‘but if you feel it in your heart (his hand on her breast over her heart) than I will not argue for I have learned there is no reasoning with the heart.’ He smiled at her now and she knew he was speaking of his love for her. Laying her hand over his on her breast, Christine lightly kissed his lips.
‘Do not doubt my love for you,’ she began, ‘if I have not proven myself true on that than please tell me what I must do to prove myself to you.’ Gently squeezing his hand she continued, ‘Those men you say would fight over me, to me they are boys not worthy of a glance. Compared to mi Ange no man will ever be so handsome or intelligent or passionate to me.’
Now was his turn to blush, her beautiful Angel's cheeks the colour of pale roses. ‘Now, my love, tell me of this man for I would like to know who my adversary is,’ he teased.
She giggled and tickled him in the sides. He tickled her back and soon their play fighting resulted in her being pinned beneath him on the bed. Both were breathing hard and had flushed skin from their playing.
Brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face, her Angel looked at her with the hungry eyes of an animal. When he bent his body down to hers, his lips caressed the tender flesh on her neck and the lobes of her ears; she felt something move inside her. Worry soon was replaced by pleasure at the realization that it was his fingers exploring her centre, discovering more of her body. His lips on hers she nearly bit his tongue when his fingers found a place inside her, sensitive yet pleasurable, that made her quiver. Smiling, his hand left her center so that his need could enter there.
Rocking her hips gently she produced a moan from his lips. As his hips thrust against hers, she felt him touch the spot that made her quiver. Her back arched against her dark Angel's chest, allowing him better entry to her centre. His thrusts grew more forceful, almost to pain, when she felt her body begin its climb to its climax. He was there, climbing, with her, as she felt his body tense and his breathing quicken.
Showering his neck and shoulder with kisses Christine knew her climax was imminent. As she came, her voice was muffled by his tender neck, she heard him moan a name, her name, softly but soon louder until his song of her was nearly a scream. As she came down from the heights of their mutual passion she was able to huskily sing out 'Le Fantome' before her body was spent.
His hot flesh lay atop hers, he still inside her heated depths, brought a smile of contentment to her lips. Wrapping her arms around him, his hands tangled in her hair, she fell asleep in her lover's arms once again.
***
There was a man lying on the floor by the mirror, tossing fitfully as if in a nightmare. Gasping, he sat up, his face covered in a cold sweat. Looking at his surroundings, the man sighed. Opening his hand, a gold chain glittered in his palm. Standing slowly, his shoulders sagged as he walked to the door. His hands turned the knob, opened the door, and stepping out into the hall, closed the door behind him softly.
As he walked down the dark deserted hallway, soft voices began to fill the empty dressing room. On the other side of the mirror, a man and a woman walked towards the doorway between worlds. Embracing each other, their lips touching briefly, they murmured their goodbyes. The man touched the wall and the woman walked through the newly opened mirror. Looking back with longing, the woman stepped into the dressing room and fondled a ring on her finger. The mirror slid shut, allowing her only a view of herself.
She collapsed on the floor, weeping, much the same way the man fell against the wall on the other side of the mirror. His tears fell freely and he touched his own finger, decorated by a ring, as he watched the woman cry.
***
Thanks to all your help spikesbint! I love your work and you are an abselute genious! Mwah!
Angel Marie