Author’s Note: I took a lot of liberty with the plot in this part, though less than you’d think if you wait to see what happens in Point of No Return in Act Two. If you are a Dawson/Joey hater, or are offended by detailed adult content, there are a couple bits in this part that are relevant to the plot, but there’s also a long, steamy, very NC-17 D/Jo scene that you can skip (mainly, the second 2/3rds of the chapter). Pacey’s not actually in this part. Yes, this is still TRI, it really is, but there’s the issue of my writing this part about two years after the last one and posting it a year later still, and still not getting to Act Two where my categorization becomes valid, so because of the speed of my posting new chapters I can see why you’d doubt me. When I started writing this, I think Dawson/Joey pairings were still en vogue, and Phantom definitely was not. Yep, it’s been that many years.
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Phantom of the Opera, either the book or the musical, or any of the characters. I do not own Point of No Return or the MIDI file I’ve included for your atmospheric listening pleasure. The MIDI file is from this site.
On with the show…
Phantom from the Creek
Act One Scene Ten
Her chestnut hair cascaded out onto the pillow and caught the faintest glimmer of candlelight before Dawson quietly slipped out of the room and closed the door. He let out a sigh, and the mask made a slight clattering sound as it hit the floor. He took a deep breath, finally free from the confines which had started to choke him when he first realized there were tears falling from his eyes. He looked down at the ridiculous thing before lightly kicking it and watching it slide to the other side of the hall. The mask, staring up at him with its empty, hollow eye, had offended him.
As he rubbed his cheeks with the back of his hands, it suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea how long he had spent watching her. He wanted to memorize every detail, to deconstruct her face and try to grasp what made her so much more perfect than any other woman he had ever seen. His eyes closed and his fingers tried to retrace Joey’s face into the air. He could feel her eyelids, the slope of her nose, the curve of her lips under his fingertips. He hoped he would be able to keep the sensation carefully locked away for all time, so he could always hold Joey’s face near to him. Dawson frowned and scooped up the mask, retying the strap. As much contempt as he had for the horrid thing, two minutes away from Joey when it was not necessary was too much to handle. He quietly opened the door and reentered the room, carefully getting into the bed and pulling her back to him. Joey moaned slightly, then curled up closer to him. Dawson kissed her shoulder and tried not to lose a single detail of what had happened.
Joey gazed at him with a content smile and lowering eyelids as he steered the boat towards his home. He glanced at her and chuckled as she rocked forward slightly, then jolted back upright. Dawson carefully knelt down to her and took her hand with his free one. “It’s okay if you’re tired,” he said softly. “Rest until we get there.” Joey barely nodded her assent before her eyes closed again. Dawson gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it and turning his attention back to the water.
Joey awoke a short time later with a bit of a start. She could not remember what she had dreamed, but she had seen Pacey’s face. Dawson’s back was turned to her, and he didn’t notice the sudden, intense scrutiny he was falling under. What if Pacey was right, and she was just letting years of paid and regret completely obscure her judgment? Why was Joey sitting in the darkness in the middle of the night with a man who may as well have been a ghost? But suddenly she became aware of the music floating back to her and was completely entranced by the sound of his voice. Dawson was half humming, half quietly singing a hauntingly lovely melody, and Joey again recalled why she was so sure he was there and he was real.
“What is that?” she whispered. He seemed almost unnerved by the sound of her voice and the music dropped away. “It’s beautiful.” He finally looked back at Joey’s questioning eyes. He did not usually unexpectedly stop when she was so engrossed by his song.
“It’s not finished,” he said gruffly. He thought he saw a slight flash of injury cross her face and relented, softening his tone. “It’s—it’s—I’m writing it for my opera. It’s not quite finished.”
”I’d love to hear the rest of it,” Joey said, her eyes were searching for his now, silently pleading for him to continue. Dawson paused.
“I don’t know, Jo. My opera… it’s very powerful, very rich, unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. I’m not sure anyone is ready to hear it until it’s done. Maybe not even then,” he added with a smirk.
“But that song,” she said the words now as if he had taken something sacred from her, something that she needed. She felt the boat bump against its destination, and she lurched forward. Dawson put his hand gently on her shoulder to steady her, not even noticing that he had begun humming again as he looked at her until her eyes closed and her lips parted slightly.
Joey felt herself melting under his touch, his voice swimming in her ears now that he’d bend over to help her alight from the boat. Once on dry land, she stood rooted to the spot, unable to will her knees to stop shaking and her body to move again until he had stepped past her. He began to sing as he walked to his home and Joey followed, reaching for his hand and taking it with a rapturous ecstasy he caught out of the corner of his eye. The tune suddenly grew more passionate and Joey caught words—improvised?—of a surprisingly suggestive nature. For a moment, she fancied herself as having been his muse all along. Surprisingly suggestive indeed… and beautiful. He paused when he reached the doorway, pulling Joey to him and taking her face in his hands. The singing abruptly ceased and the echo of his voice drifted into the silence.
“Don’t stop,” Joey whispered. “Don’t stop.” Dawson smiled, but shook his head.
”I will teach it to you,” he said uncertainly, “but first you have to rest your voice.”
”But it is rested!” she pouted at him, forcing herself to not turn the corners of her lips up into a smile. He put his index finger to her mouth, slowly trailing it across and lightly sweeping it down her chin.
”Not yet, okay, Joey?” his eyes had become dark, and Joey, breaking out of the spell his words had put her under, quickly stepped through his door. He sighed silently. “Not yet,” he repeated quietly to himself.
Joey scolded herself for suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Was that what she had dreamt about? That Pacey was right and this man wasn’t her Dawson? But didn’t she feel it in her heart, in his kiss, that he had come back to her at last? What are you so afraid of, Joey?, she thought, but she already knew the answer: if he wasn’t the same, it would be like he’d abandoned her all over again. She continued walking, putting more distance between herself and the Phantom. Last time she had come, she was not in a state to really look at this place skillfully built into the cavern walls that Dawson called home. She could see now that though the room they were standing in was as she remembered, the doors in the room were not all to closets. She walked with purpose to a door that was slightly ajar and opened up to a hallway lined with glowing candles and covered in tapestries. Through another door at the end of the corridor was a small kitchen and a bathroom.
“Plumbing and a gas stove? How did you do this?” Joey asked, stunned.
”I didn’t,” Dawson answered, following her gingerly. “I’d love to take credit for it, but the structure was already here. Your conspiracy theory is as good as mine.” He had chosen his words carefully, and they had the right affect. Joey grinned at him.
“And all the tapestries?” she asked.
“To make it harder to find the panels to my secret passageways,” he said. Joey cocked her head slightly, unsure whether or not he was joking. She crossed her arms, deep in thought, and walked back into the front room. Dawson stood where he was, sadly looking at the wall, when he heard her gasp loudly.
Any doubts she could have had about Dawson’s identity were quickly forgotten. She could not believe she had ever overlooked it, though it was small. In a frame atop the old television was a picture of her, Dawson, Pacey and Jen standing on a street in Capeside and smiling at the camera. She rushed back over to him and caught him in her arms.
“Joey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Dawson asked, concerned.
”Nothing, Dawson. Everything is exactly the way it should be.” She was beaming at him almost as if--- as if she doesn’t see the mask.
“Oh, Joey,” he said anxiously, searching her hazel eyes. She didn’t respond. She simply smiled at him, a lopsided smile that the 15-year-old Joey would have given Dawson after a tickle fight or a scathing movie critique. A smile of warmth, of familiarity. Of trust. “I will play you the aria.”
Dawson’s hands shook as he gave her the score. “Now you have to understand, this music is very advanced, I think, and it’s just not ready.” He sat down at his piano, shrinking away from her.
”Dawson, stop excusing yourself. So far it’s been wonderful, and, honestly, I just want to hear more of your own work. It…” she swallowed. “It makes me feel closer to you,” she finished, her voice dropping back to a whisper. His rigid stance eased and she took a place behind him, holding the music, as he began to play.
Dawson put his arms behind her back, holding her as closely to him as possible, and kissed up her neck to her ear again. He couldn’t help gently pressing his erection against her open legs, making her moan and buck up against him. She pulled his lips back to hers and tried to finish the work she’d starting on the zipper to his pants. Getting frustrated, she maneuvered him up off of her slightly and leaned over to bite his nipple. He fell sideways in surprise, and she used his lack of balance to lie him down and straddle him, finally freeing him from the confines of his pants so he lay only in boxers.
“Jo, slow down a little bit,” Dawson whispered. “This is… you know this is going to be the first time and I just…”
“Shh…” Joey said gently, putting her hand to his unmasked cheek. She slowly leaned down and kissed his jawbone, trailing her tongue down his neck and back to his chest. She put her face down there, looking left and taking the nipple with her fingers. She squinted a bit as she noticed for the first time that there was a line going through it, almost bisecting it. She didn’t stop what she was doing, but she looked up at him.
”Does that hurt?” she asked.
”No. I like it.” He smiled down at her. “Do you think you could do that biting thing again? But softly!” She grinned and obeyed and Dawson twitched and moaned. Joey continued her journey downward, flicking her tongue over him until she reached his lower abdomen. She began to make large lazy circles around his belly button as she ran her fingers teasingly under the elastic to his boxers. Dawson’s head swam and he found himself completely unable to move as Joey sweetly tormented him.
”Joey, Joey, Joey… oh, Joey…” he murmured before she moved her hand down to brush against his rock hard penis. “No, don’t,” he said, suddenly finding the strength to sit up. “Just… not a good idea.” Joey giggled, looking pleased. He smiled, his lips pressed together, and gazed at her adoringly. "Lie down. Let me look at you,” he whispered tenderly. Joey did as he asked, though she hated to be even three inches from his touch. “My God, Jo,” he said, looking down at her, running his fingers across her stomach. Her breasts begged for his tongue and he complied, slipping her out of her skirt and panties and slowly sliding them off her long legs. His face moved down as he desired to get a look at the uncharted territory that had eluded all but his fingers before.
“Dawson,” Joey said sternly but with unmistakable lust in her voice, “your mask.”
”Don’t ask me that,” he said, his brow furrowing. “Don’t take this from me by cruelly forcing me to have to face you with—so that you can see the—" He suddenly growled and put his tongue between her legs, making her cry out and ending the impending argument.
She threw her head back and wondered how Dawson seemed to know so naturally what to do. She knew he’d never tasted any woman before, yet his mouth found just the right spot to suck and lick and—
”Dawson,” she gasped and grabbed his shoulders. “Now. I need to feel you inside of me now.” He stopped and looked up at her, wriggling out of his boxers.
”Oh, Joey.” He paused and moved up, cupping her cheek with his hand. “My angel, my soul.” He suddenly looked so vulnerable, in the dim light wearing nothing but his mask. The Phantom was left cradling Joey, everything else stripped away, and he looked petrified.
”Dawson, we waited so many years,” Joey said uncertainly. She began to tremble.
“Tell me what to do,” he whispered. They held each other a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, as Dawson placed a calming hand on Joey’s quivering leg. “That’s so silly, my leg—" Dawson smiled before shhing her with his finger. He positioned himself at her entrance and began to slowly push, closing his eyes. “You’re so wet,” he groaned, his voice deep with desire as he slid as far as he could go. They both sighed with relief as he pulled back and opened his eyes again. Instinct took over as he pushed into her again with a little less resistance, but he laughed a little this time and kissed her on the forehead. “I don’t know how many times I’m going to be able to do that,” he grinned, breathing heavily.
”It’s okay. Just stay now for a minute,” Joey smiled at him, putting her arms around him and squeezing him to her. As they lay there, Joey began tightening muscles Dawson didn’t even know existed to further embrace him inside of her. Then she stilled and pushed him up so he was resting on his elbows, still buried deep within her. Now he was the one giving her a lopsided grin as they both savored feeling complete at last.
She was the one who began moving again as her hands ran down his back and she pushed him out and thrust him hard back into her. He grasped her shoulders and let her set the rhythm.
”Joey, I’m going to—“ Dawson gasped, trying as hard as he could to concentrate.
”It’s okay. I want you to.” Dawson’s fingers clutched her sides as a fierce groan rumbled around Joey and he came. He panted helplessly and rested his head on her shoulder.
”I tried not to so fast—“ Dawson could hardly speak. “Joey—"
”It’s okay, don’t worry,” Joey said softly into his hair. He started to soften, and she tensed as he slipped out of her. He propped himself up on his elbows again and gave her that same lopsided smile. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he noticed she was still flushed and her hips were still slightly rubbing against his body. His smile turned down into a frustrated pout and a sigh escaped his lips. He hadn’t wanted their lovemaking to end so quickly.
”What?” Joey asked tenderly, seeing his concern.
”You are not satisfied.”
”Oh, don’t worry, I expect you to repay the favor later,” she smiled coquettishly.
Later? Dawson could hardly fathom the word. Could he even dare to dream of… having her again?
Joey’s eyes widened as the last word sparked a renewed, insatiable lust in him. He grabbed her wrists and held them above her head as he forcefully found his way back inside of her.
”I want to watch you,” Dawson shuddered and tried to regain control. ”Guide me.”
There was nothing between them besides the mask, Joey remembered yet again. He was inside of her, in her mind, in her body, invading her senses. He had just filled her with his orgasm, and the thought made even his amateur motions the sexiest touches she had ever felt. She closed her eyes, wildly bucking back and forth against him, plunging her nails into his shoulders. “Joey, I need you,” he whispered hotly into her ear.
”Dawson,” she moaned. He felt himself teetering near the edge again, the feeling welling up in his lower stomach, but he only wanted to think about her. He tried concentrating on learning, on following her movements, on keeping perfect time with her. Easier said than done, he thought as he found himself having to look over her head to fully focus on driving into her without falling out or surrendering to his own desires.
”Dawson, look at me,” she commanded, noticing his gaze had shifting to a space on the wall.
”But I want to do it right this time.”
“Then look at me,” she repeated. “You said you wanted to watch.” He positioned himself to look into her eyes. His face fell and then tensed again as he once again lost control. “Keep going,” she coaxed, never taking his eyes from his. “I’m so close.” Dawson quickly pushed himself up a little further so that his thrusts gazed her clit as he moved inside of her. Her haggard breaths ceased and a shriek of delight escaped her lips as she felt an explosion course through her. It was the most beautiful thing Dawson had ever seen, and he clutching her trembling body to his as he slid out of her again. They stayed, pressed together, for what seemed like hours but was really only minutes, before their bodies rudely reminded them that they were still laying on the hard floor.
”Let’s go to bed,” Joey yawned. “We can clean up in the morning.” He stared at her motionlessly. “I don’t want to fall asleep yet, but we can’t stay on the floor.” She kissed him. “Sleep would pull me away from you, and I’m not ready to awake and find out this night was just a dream.”
Dawson stood up and scooped her up in the tapestry to carry her back to the bed. He carefully laid her down and joined her, his face breaking out into the widest smile she had ever seen on his face.
”My Joey,” he said simply. She looked at him sleepily.
”Glad we don’t have to worry about any little Dawsophines,” she said, quickly losing coherence. “I—pill.” Dawson raised an eyebrow. He grinned sheepishly, but he hoped she’d stop thinking of the real world and its consequences—just for this perfect night. Just until dawn. He knew it was once out of character for him not to overanalyze and noted the irony of the characteristic in a dreamer.
Joey opened her eyes and kissed him one last time before giving in to exhaustion. She hated leaving him when he was finally open and showing himself to her, but she was no longer in control. Still, she found herself wondering, could he ever be truly vulnerable while he hid behind that mask?