AN: So there's no explicit smut in this chapter (mostly because I suck at writing it), but fair warning that there is a little more steaminess than there's been in the past. And once again, thank you to anyone who takes the time to read and review :D

Chapter 38

It was strange, Christine thought, to feel the building flutter in her stomach that she associated with stage fright as she left the opera house. But she felt as though she had a very important performance ahead of her, and was unsure if Erik even had the script. She thought that he wanted the same things as her, but sometimes it was so hard to tell, and the last thing she wanted to do was frighten or offend him. It was very quiet on the carriage ride home, but Christine couldn't muster the courage to ask what he was thinking. Once they were in the music room, where they both felt the most comfortable, he said,

"Did I mention how stunning you look tonight?" And she smiled, feeling the tension leave her a bit.

"Thank you. You look very handsome yourself." It was true, he cut quite a figure in his black eveningwear, and though the mask was an unwelcome barrier between them, it did add to his air of elegance and mystery. But this wasn't a performance, she realized. She knew the man behind the fine clothes and under the mask, and she wanted all of him. Now. Tonight. Erik just snorted and said,

"Yes, I'm quite sure I was the most dashing man at the opera."

"You were." She insisted. "Anyway, this pretty dress is quite restricting." She walked to the doorway and looked back over her shoulder. "I must get it off." Erik's heated gaze pinned her, his lips slightly parted, and Christine continued down the hallway to her room with a smug grin on her face. It truly was a relief to remove the complicated dress and the new corset, which was fashioned especially tight for use under evening dresses, but the nerves returned slightly as she regarded her nightgown. She'd bought it the same day she purchased the pink dress, the same day that Angela said she would be happy to care for Anika all night while Erik and Christine went out. It was then Christine had realized she and Erik were not likely to have a night alone together, uninterrupted by Anika's cries for some time, and she had proceeded to the undergarments section of a shop with the heat rising in her cheeks. She'd barely given a glance to the wide array of saucy corsets covered with ribbons and embroidery, which were paired with matching chemises and drawers that were clearly meant to be seen. She could hardly imagine facing Erik in such provocative undergarments, and couldn't picture him having the slightest clue how to get her out of them. Instead she'd opted for a plain, sensible corset, and saved the generous swatches of lace and extra bows for a smooth satin nightgown, which still retained some degree of modesty.

She knew she'd made the right choice as she slipped the nightgown over her head now. She still felt like herself as she unpinned her hair and brushed out her curls, though the cut of this nightgown was a little more frivolous and daring than what she had been wearing to bed lately. Then again, she was hardly planning on having it on for long, was she? The thought had her dropping her hairbrush, and she shook her head at her silliness. She knew her husband. No matter what he wanted he would never initiate physical love between them, probably still believing himself undesirable to her, and they had rather missed the chance of easily falling into it on their wedding night as she and Raoul had. Raoul was always the one to take charge of such matters with a soft smile and whispers of reassurance when they were together, but tonight it had to be her.

Erik would be frightened, she realized as she regained her hairbrush and continued her work. His nerves would far outweigh hers, as he was always so terrified of ruining everything between them with the slightest misstep. One of them would have to keep their heads tonight, and Christine gave herself a stern look in the mirror before leaving her bedroom, repeating to herself that it was foolish to feel immodest and forward before her husband who she loved very much.

As she emerged into the music room, she wasn't really surprised to find Erik at the piano, still fully dressed and masked, playing something sweet and tantalizing she thought she remembered from Paris. Suddenly her mouth was dry. What was she to say? "Come to bed" seemed cliché, and he would think she only meant to sleep at any rate. Anything more direct seemed impossible in the peaceful blue house that reminded her of the sea. It would have to be action, then. As she walked towards him he looked up and smiled at her but continued to play, and all at once she was jealous of that infernal piano, which captured her husband's attention even now. She wanted him to be able to think of nothing but her.

She moved between the piano and the bench, hardly able to believe her daring as she grasped his wrists, moved his hands off the keys and climbed into his lap, her knees resting on the bench on either side of his hips. He gasped, going perfectly still, and as she released his hands they fairly floated to her waist. "May I?" She asked, running one finger along the bottom edge of his mask. He nodded mutely and she slipped it off, placing it carefully on the end of the bench. She leaned in to kiss him, and it quickly became longer and deeper than anything they had shared previously, her hands roaming inside his jacket and his sliding down to her hips, his fingertips digging in slightly. She was disappointed when he pulled back, but the feeling was short lived as he skimmed his lips down the edge of her neck instead, then across her collarbone. She sighed and let her head fall back, shifting slightly on his lap, and that had him pulling away from her in earnest, the fear she had expected quite present in his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He said, and she couldn't hear that now, not when everything between them was so beautiful.

"No." She said softly, cupping his face in her hands. "I don't want any apologies or regrets tonight. No sadness."

"What do you want, Christine?" She told herself not to blush at the question but felt it happening regardless.

"I thought I was making that rather obvious." He swallowed, his eyes widening. "I want you. But only if you want me in the same way."

"You are all I have ever wanted." He brushed his knuckles down her cheek, and she wanted to cry but now was not the time. "But not because you think this is what we must do because we are married, or because you pity me. Never just for my pleasure." She shook her head.

"It's got nothing to do with any of that. I wouldn't be-here" she looked down at her choice of seating with a smirk "if I did not want to be, for your pleasure and mine." He sighed.

"You do not need to say that or do this to spare my feelings. There must be a limit even to your self-sacrifice. I know what I look like, and I don't expect anything from you."

"Hush." She said, kissing him on each cheek, his forehead and finally his mouth. "Stop insulting my husband. I'm not sacrificing anything, I promise." He took a deep breath.

"You know I've never-" She nodded. She'd expected as much. "I don't wish to disappoint you." He said, moving a bit of her hair behind her shoulder.

"You won't." She assured him.

"But you must tell me, if I do something wrong, or-"

"There's no right or wrong." She could feel herself going red again. Goodness this was hard to talk about. "But we will both be honest, and tell each other how we are feeling." He nodded, looking resigned. "Erik." She caught his eye, realized their noses would have been touching if he had one. "It's only you and me. We're going to be fine."

"There is no only about it. You, wanting to be with me, is everything, and I will do anything within my power to try to be worthy." He stood without warning, supporting her with ease, and headed in the direction of his bedroom. Erik had carried her to bed before when she fell asleep elsewhere, but it had never been like this. Now she was entirely awake, her limbs wrapped around him and her eyes level with his. He laid her down on the bed, and as she refused to relinquish her hold on him he had no choice but to follow her there. He hovered over her, supporting his weight on his forearms, and said, "It's not too late. We can just sleep, if you'd rather. I won't be-" She cut him off with a pointed kiss. He returned it slowly and awkwardly at first, but then she could feel the moment he stopped over thinking and let himself really kiss her back, and it was like music. The piano of gentle kisses and soft words of love soon turned into the staccato of quickened breath, the urgent crescendo of hands and mouths, and a whole measure of rest when their clothes were finally gone, and Erik looked down at her with such admiration and love, and the expression was more beautiful than anything skin deep could ever be. The final movement was unpolished, but it was also soaring and pure and uncontrolled in the best possible way, and Christine found sounds coaxed out of her which she had certainly never achieved in any of their lessons. When all finally fell quiet, she and Erik collapsed into each others arms and she managed to press her exhausted lips to his sweat dampened chest a few more times, and his fingertips trailed up and down the dip in her back, and she felt more fulfilled and happy and home than she could ever remember feeling before.

"Christine?" He whispered, seeming as unwilling to break the lovely silence as she was.

"Mmm?" Was about all she could muster.

"I-you are amazing. The most amazing woman that ever lived." She grinned against his skin.

"You're a rather excellent man yourself." The mumbled words were barely intelligible, but the sentiment was so clear she might as well have sung them at the top of her voice.