A/N: Written for an anonymous Tumblr prompt which read "one day, Erik spies Christine pleasuring herself in the bath one day. When he realizes what she is doing, he starts to worry that he is not leaving her satisfied when they make love. When she figures that out, she proves that he does leave her satisfied"
"Does your Erik satisfy you, Christine?" he does not raise his eyes from behind his newspaper, and frowns at the cover page that hides her husband's face. What sort of a question is that, does he satisfy her? Of course he satisfies her!
"What do you mean, Erik?" If she enquires carefully, she might figure out where his train of thought is going and head him off from panicking. He has that tone in his voice, the one that warns her that he is worried over something even as he tries to remain impassive. She strokes a hand over the creases of her dress and waits, eyes expectantly focused on the newspaper headline, as if her gaze can burn through it and see the frown that is surely creasing his face.
"Well…" He clears his throat, and she can hear his thoughts whirling in the silence that follows. "Well, I…that is to say Erik, he saw y-," the blush that is surely burning his pale cheeks is very nearly audible, and she feels her own lips twist over his awkwardness, "Isawyoupleasuringyourselfinthebath, and I just wanted to know if there is something that I-"
It takes her a moment to work out his words, and when she does it is all she can do to suppress a laugh. Oh, she knows she should be upset that he was spying on her in the bath, and another time she might be, but the very thought that he might not satisfy her? They've taught each other all they've ever known. Of course he satisfies her!
"Erik," her voice is soft now, smiling, and it is not difficult to imagine his ears burning pink at his admission. "Erik." He remains stubbornly silent, as if a refusal to speak can obliterate what he's said.
She sighs and sets her book down, standing and crossing the short distance between. Gently, she takes the top of the newspaper between her fingers and slips it from his grip. He does not protest, lets his hands fall to his lap as she tosses it away, his hazel eyes gazing at a point somewhere over her shoulder. "Erik," she murmurs, cupping his cheek in the palm of her hand. "Erik, I promise you that I am satisfied, more than satisfied, and if you will permit me, I" she presses a kiss to his forehead, one more to his cheek, "if you will permit me, I will show you just how very satisfied I am." She bows her head, presses her lips to his. "I promise."