Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in Gaston Leroux's Phantom of the Opera. I wish I did! But I don't, so you can't sue me. Ha!
A Midnight Composition
Christine sighed dreamily, hovering on the threshold of wakefulness. Opening her eyes slowly, she stretched her slender legs, tangled in satin sheets. She smiled contentedly, regaining her senses. Reaching out a hand adorned with a blue-jeweled ring, she gently caressed the pale, muscled shoulder of the man lying next to her.
It was the morning after her wedding night, and Christine still glowed pink with passion. Her husband lay sleeping peacefully beside her. The Phantom. The man. The one who thought himself hideous, unforgivable. Christine knew him better than he did himself! Beyond his scarred and disfigured face was a man of such genius and beauty of spirit that she now caught her breath at the wonder of her marriage.
Rolling over to her side, she nuzzled herself closer to Erik, her husband. Slipping a tender arm around his waist, and smoothed her fingers over his face. Her fingers marked the ridges and pits, sliding over the inflamed skin. The same face that others feared and loathed fascinated Christine, who alone had seen the depths of despair and shame in his dark, clouded eyes. Her fingers grazed his eyelids, and she felt his lashes quiver and flutter open.
Hugging herself against his back, she whispered breathily shakily into his ear,"Good morning, husband."
"Good morning, little wife," came his sleepy, deep reply. His hands caught her fingers, and pressed them to his mouth in a silent kiss. Christine kissed his shoulder in reply, and Erik turned in her arms, cupping her face in his hands. He gazed at her, half fearful, half defiant, to see her response to his face after a dark night of ardor.
Christine smoothed the anxious ripples on his brow, twining her fingers in his hair and resting her forehead against his.
"You are beautiful inside, my love," she breathed, gazing into his pleading eyes, "and I see it just as well in light as I did in the dark." Relief and love flooded his eyes and he clutched her shoulders, pulling her into a long and passionate kiss. When he at last broke away, Christine held him tightly, feeling his hands move on her back.She could feel his heart beat against her chest and they lay a long while together til Erik spoke softly beside her ear.
"We composed a song last night."
"Together?" Christine asked, kissing his mangled cheek. She kissed a path to his forehead, his nose, then his mouth, loving the feel of his skin against her lips.
"Yes," he moaned, capturing her curls in his hands. "Together."
"It's my favorite song so far," whispered Christine playfully, sliding her hands down his perfect chest. He sat up abruptly pulling her against him, resting his chin on the top of her head. "You are so beautiful," he sighed in her hair.
"So are you," came her teasing reply.
"I'm being serious, Christine."
"So am I," she replied, pulling back to meet his gaze evenly. "You have a beautiful mind. Every moment I spend with you my love grows deeper."
"Christine, my angel, my jewel," he murmured, kissing her softly. "I love you."
