When she agreed to be his living wife, he promised that he would only ask for one last kiss and it would be on their wedding day. Then she should never have to touch him again. It didn't even have to be on the mouth. Her lips briefly on his skin would be enough.
Just to have her by his side would be enough.
Christine thought, of course, that he was joking. She wasn't afraid that he would force himself on her, but he would surely expect more than a kiss.
And when they said their I do's and she lifted his mask to kiss him on his almost non-existent lips, he cried and told her that his life was now complete. She cried with him, not because she regretted her decision, but because he said the most beautiful things.
She asked him to sing for her on their wedding night. At first he sat on a chair next to the bed in her room (she didn't expect that they would sleep in his room), but after coaxing he agreed to sit on the bed.
She crawled under the covers and reached for his hand which he reluctantly gave to her and then started to sing. His voice was calming and soon she had unwillingly drifted off to sleep.
When she woke, he was gone. Not next to her as she had expected, but in his room scribbling or playing the organ in the sitting room.
The pattern repeated itself every night for weeks. He would come into her room and sing to her until she slept. If she didn't reach for his hand, he didn't offer it. If she didn't coax him to sit on the bed, he would sit in the chair.
One evening she asked him if he would like to change into his nightwear. He looked perplexed (at least it was her interpretation - she was learning to decipher his expressions underneath the mask by reading his body language, the tone of his voice and the shine in his amber eyes) and didn't answer her until she had asked again.
"Erik thinks it is rather impractical to dress in his nightwear when he will not be sleeping yet."
She explained that she would like to sleep together with him in the same bed as husband and wife. This made him even more perplexed and he mumbled a number of incoherent excuses to why she should not have to sleep in a bed with him.
"Erik, when I agreed to marry you I expected that we would share a marriage bed."
She ended up falling asleep very late that evening, but he was lying next to her in the bed, wearing his nightwear and holding her hand. But when she woke up, he was, of course, gone.
Their every day life was comfortable when they had gotten into a rutine. Especially after he had conceded to eat with her at their meals. They would have breakfast together, then she would go to rehearsal while he tinkered with his toys or composed. When she returned home, he would have dinner ready and they would do the dishes together while they talked about their day. In the evenings he would read to her while she knitted or they would sing together.
She found that she really enjoyed Erik's calm, yet passionate company. Everything he did was with intent, something she admired. She also began to admire his gracious body and how it moved around effortlessly in their small home. She was also mesmerized with his slender fingers when he played his organ.
Which was why she began reaching out to hold his hand when she had the opportunity. He never protested, but he hesitated before taking her hand. His hold was firm, but yielding, so she barely had to take a step away to slip out of his grip. She knew that he could do so much more.
She also started to hug him when she left in the morning and came home in the late afternoon. The physical contact made her feel closer to her and this kind seemed to relax him as well. She really wanted to give him a kiss, at least on the cheek or his forehead, but he was hesitant to move the mask.
After three months of marriage he began to accept that she wanted him to come into her (their) bed with her and lie down beside her. Since it had become a habit she felt that he was ready for the next step, so when he lay down next to her, she would shift to move close up against him and put a hand on his chest. Sometimes he even ran his thumb over her cheek - after asking for permission.
But it was not enough. While Erik didn't expect anything more of his wife, Christine was beginning to expect more of her husband.
One night she asked him to kiss her.
"Ah. Erik believes it would be a horrific experience. Christine understands very well that her Erik has to lift his mask to accomplish such a task. It would be a ghastly sight to gaze upon before going to sleep. Erik does not want his Christine to have bad dreams."
She promised him that she would close her eyes, even though she wouldn't be able to see him anyway in the dark room. He probably could, so he expected that she could too.
He conceded, but to her disappointment he only kissed her on her cheek and she shared her frustration with him. In the end she got a kiss on her lips and so a new bedtime tradition began.
Sometimes his bedtime kiss would make her stomach spin and when that happened, she would wrap her hand around the back of his head to prolong the kiss. Erik always tensed, but never pulled away. Often she would even hear a whimper escape him when they parted.
One night she decided that she wouldn't end the kiss so soon. She would hold him close and hope that he would take his right as a husband. How she longed for him to do it.
She still needed to ask him for a kiss, but he eagerly lifted his mask in the dark (without even asking if she had her eyes closed which she didn't) and pushed his barely-there lips to hers. She melted against him and leaned into his chest. She already had a hand behind him to stop him from pulling away.
She moved her lips against his and felt a pleasant ache somewhere deep inside when he responded. The hand cupping the back of his head slid down his back to feel the shape of him with only the thin nightshirt between her hand and his skin.
He instantly pulled away from her lips and breathed hard for several minutes. It was obviously that he was embarrassed.
"Erik, do you find me repulsive?" She found courage to ask, but her voice was timid.
"Oh, Christine! Erik could never find one of God's most precious angels repulsive. You must not even speak as such." He answered her immediately and spoke with such a conviction that she knew he was being truthful.
"Then do you feel sick?"
"Erik's body has always been traitorous, but with his Christine by his side he has truly never felt better. He cannot remember having felt so well, in body nor in mind."
"Then why will you not consummate our marriage?"
This time he didn't answer immediately. Instead he lay completely still and she had to reach out to make sure that he was still there and alive. He was both alive and there.
"Erik promised Christine that nothing more would not be expected of her. She has already given him so much." He was very quiet, clearly nervous to respond.
"But I want more. I want... with you." She couldn't say the words, but he must've understood.
"It would be desecrating to allow such a creature to... touch Christine like a husband would."
"Erik, I do not mind your appearance. It is you who hides, not me who asks you to. I only ask that you... remember to take care of your wife. Like a husband should."
He didn't answer for some times. She felt their duvet lift and she was about to scold him for leaving when she realised that he was moving closer to her and lifted the duvet to crawl completely under it.
Cold lips touched her throat and she almost jumped because he moved so carefully that it was difficult to know where he was, even when he was right beside her. He kissed her throat, down her neck and over her clavicle. Every so often he would lick a certain place or suck at a spot of skin.
When his mouth touched a particularly sensitive spot, she gasped and lifted her hand to cup the back of his hand to hold him there. That's when she discovered that he had taken off his mask. She looked down to see him, but of course, it was too dark to see anything.
Then she felt long, bony fingers slide down between her breasts and further down over her stomach. She held her breath, but released when the hand disappeared. If he hadn't been occupying her by kissing her neck, her jaw and - oh! - nibbling her earlobe, then she would have asked him to return that hand to the place it had left bereft.
Suddenly the hand appeared again - lower. It started down by her calf and moved upwards, dragging her nightgown up with it. When it neared her inner thigh, it slowed down before coming to a halt. The action, along with his mouth, had almost made her pant. She gripped Erik's nightshirt with one hand.
"Please." It was the only word she could think of and luckily it was the right one.
The hand continued its path up her thigh until it reached her drawers. It glided slowly over the fabric and when a slender finger lightly touched the place where she felt so hot and sensitive, she bucked on the bed.
"Erik." It was barely more than a breath, but she heard a huff of air by her neck that told her that he had heard it.
The finger moved down again, this time with a little more pressure and once again touching the precise spot as before. She gasped.
The hand was at the upper part of her inner thigh again, but then something moved. A finger found the slit in her drawers and entered, running directly over the most private part of her body. This time she couldn't discern the noise that left her.
"Oh, Christine is so wet. Her clothes should not be wet. Her Erik better remove it." He hesitated, giving her a chance to protest, but she would never do that. He sat up and swiftly slid the drawers down her legs, leaving her bare to the cold air.
He didn't return to lie next to her, but she forgot about it when a now warm hand cupped her between her thighs and the clever finger reached for the place it had found before. She moaned when it brushed lightly against the small spot and Erik hummed in response. He was studying her and there was something exciting in the thought.
His finger circled the aching spot, pressuring ever so lightly once in a while. Then it moved further down where she was wet. He hummed again, significantly more hoarse this time and suddenly she felt an otherworldly feeling of being filled. His finger was inside her and it should have felt indecent and mortifying, but it was so good and she moaned loudly and pushed to increase the strange sensation.
His finger moved in and out of her, making her sway with the intoxicating movement. She heard a shuffling and then another of his talented fingers circled the little bud with increasing pressure in tact with his other finger that continued to move in and out of her lower.
He was playing her as an instrument, something he definitely excelled at.
Her body seemed to fly higher with every stroke and every brush and she became aware that her voice was soaring too, but instead of words, she could only express sounds. She sounded so wanton, but she couldn't find it in her to care when Erik was making her feel this way. He coaxed these sounds from her voice like he made her fly and she was so close to something large. He lifted her into a great crescendo, making her scream as her body fell over the edge.
"Oh, God! Erik!"
She soared on waves of pleasure while Erik spoke softly of how wondrous she looked and that she brought him nothing but joy. She felt him tug her under the duvet and kiss her forehead as she fell into a heavy sleep, happy, sated and loved.