Spoilers: Nope
Rating: I'm going to say PG-13 because they're a very non-descriptive sexual part that I don't think deserves an R because if it was in a movie or something it would pan back up and imply what was going on but not show it.
The Phantom From the Creek
Act One Scene Four
Dawson paced back and forth watching Joey sleep. There she was, finally back in his bed where she belonged. Now what was he going to do about it? For years he had waited for her, not even knowing it until he saw her again. Joey's lips were the last his had ever touched all that time ago. If she only knew it was him... but no, she'd find out after she trusted him again... before she saw his face.
"So much has changed, Jo," he whispered, "but so much hasn't. I'm so proud of you. I need you to sing my music, now. See how things are. I need you to understand." As she began to stir, Dawson walked to the piano on the other side of the room. He continued to speak as he doodled notes on cleft paper.
"Writing music is art, too," he mumbled to no one in particular. "It's directing all the notes and creating emotional beauty without creating a visualization. And in plays, everyone wears masks and costumes. I couldn't direct, but I could come close."
"Joey slowly opened her eyes, momentarily frightened until she remembered where she was and the soft music reached her ears. The voice had such a familiar sound, but it was too deep to be placed. Joey sat up and looked at the Phantom curiously. He seemed like a black shade, gliding near the piano, his silhouette illuminated by the candlelight.
Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination
Silently the senses abandon their defenses
Loud as the thunder, soft as candlelight
For I compose the music of the night
Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor
Grasp it, sense it-- tremulous and tender
Turn your face away from the garish light of day
Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light
And listen to the music of the night
Joey shook her head, trying to clear it. She was confused. She was confused because she was not at all afraid. His words were-- making sense. Her own mind was able to embrace the darkness while she was in the Phantom's lair. She crept to the edge of the bed and turned to him.
Dawson was so enthralled in his words that he took no notice to Joey's awoken state. His voice echoed through the room, reaching the water and bouncing back. Joey looked at him respectfully, almost affectionately. She could feel his words, his pain. There was an almost sultry lust in the air. Something dark, something primal...
Joey shuddered and stood up. She went towards him, drawn by something she used to know but could barely remember. Her hands caressed his shoulders, but he did not flinch or even turn around. His eyes closed...
Joey ran her hands up and down his back. He was strong, but gentle. She sat down next to him, backward on the piano bench, and touched his unmasked cheek. He turned his face slightly to nuzzle her hand, being careful not to touch her, soil her, with his mask.
He felt himself falling again for the gorgeous brunette, his best friend who had been mourning what she thought was his death for so long. He turned to her, the piano still playing. He put his hand over hers and slid it down his neck.
Joey continued to mover her hands down as Dawson continued to sing to her. She looked into his shining blue eyes and thought she could see into his soul. It had to be a shade, a ghost, because it had to be-- "Dawson?" she mouthed, not allowing herself to actually believe it. She didn't stop or withdraw, though, instead she placed her hands over the very definite bulge in his pants and started to caress him.
He picked her up in his arms and carried her back to the bed. He laid her down and looked at her adoringly.
"I need to kiss you. I need to know you're real," Dawson pleaded. Joey thought it was ironic that he needed to know that she was the real one. She looked up at him, a perfectly handsome man, but with a half mask covering his face. She sat up and pulled his lips to hers in an intense kiss that made Dawson's entire body tremble. She was becoming more and more certain as she remembered the times they had spent in each other's arms that the Phantom was Dawson in some form or another... the face, the voice, the trust, the familiarity... it was the only thing that made sense. Except he's dead! she thought. She raised her hand up.
"Dawson, take off the mask." He caught her hand in his.
"Come we must return. Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you." The spell was broken. The Phantom's face became dark and the sparkle in his eyes was dim once again. Could she have been wrong? Probably. The thought fleetingly entered her mind that he suddenly was making her leave because he was scared of her, but as she began to shake with cold, her own fears began to consume her.
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