Rated: PG-13 (T)

Genre: Horror

Summary: It's their wedding night and Christine is nervous. But the morning holds a special treat for the newlywed couple. (One-Shot). EC

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Phantom of the Opera.

A/N: This was some crazy story that came to mind one night. I might get some flames for this, but I don't care. It's a fun piece that I happened to write. Enjoy!

Wedding Night

By: Erik'sTrueAngel

At long last the night had arrived and Christine was a bundle of nerves. The wedding ceremony had been beautiful and intimate—her and her beloved, Meg, and Madame Giry in attendance. It had been everything the aspiring soprano could have hoped for with her Angel of Music… her Erik.

For the special night, he rented out a little cottage on the outer limits of Paris, about 45 minutes away. The trip was too long for Christine, but upon arriving it had been worth the ride. Inside was the Gate for Lovers as they made their entrance. Beforehand, Erik took the liberty of setting it up for his bride. Candles were lit throughout the little four-room house and a trail of rose petals led to their bedroom where their love would be finally consummated.

In the room was more candles around the bed and nightstand, lavender and jasmine scented her favorite smells. The petals led up to the poster bed where a dozen of crimson velvet roses were scattered on top of the ebony sheets. Prop against the pillows was Erik's dear violin, begging to be played for the married couple.

He proceeded to serenade her with his music and together they sang the greatest of love songs until the silvery moonlight streamed through the windows. The moment they had been waiting for was approaching and the mood was all too perfect.

When Erik proposed to retire for the evening, her fears and anxieties settled in. She wanted this more than anything, yet was afraid to cross the distance to the final threshold.

Yes, she knew Erik would never hurt her intentionally. He assured her of this many times and proved it through his actions and behavior. He was no longer the crazed jealous creature anymore, but a lamb the faithful pup. But even that didn't placate the arising butterflies each passing second.

To make her as comfortable as he could, Erik tied a silk black blindfold over her brown doe eyes to cover anything that would frighten her. It wasn't about his face, oh no! Christine long grew out of the fear once she saw his true soul and the beauty within. It was his manly hood that brought both wonder and terror into her heart.

She never seen a man before and was curious, but at the same time she didn't want to see. She heard enough stories back in the dormitories from the promiscuous ballet rats, but even that didn't satisfy her curiosity or the disgust of such acts. But as a wife she knew what was expected of her. Erik was unlike most men and that help put to rest some fears.

He wouldn't pressure her to do anything that she didn't want and it was comforting to know he had her best interests at hand. After the confrontation back in his lair and her swift decision that he was the man she wanted, Christine felt the joys of entering womanhood. The silly innocent was no more. Alas, that's what she thought until that night.

Her childish fears returned and Erik granted her the luxury of not seeing him until she was ready. Christine hoped it would be soon. She wanted in every way to be the strong, willful woman Erik imagined her to be. Perhaps after this night she will feel no fear upon looking at her husband. This kept her hopes high.

Though, at first, she thought she possibly hurt his feelings when making this request. But Erik took it well and told her he understood. He was indeed a tall man and quite endowed, but knew the first act of intimacy would frighten her off instead of bringing their souls and bodies together as one. Thank God for small mercies and rationality.

Now the little wife lay in her lacy nightdress, her raven curls spread out from her porcelain ivory face, the blindfold hiding her luminous eyes.

She waited patiently for Erik's return. Even though her sight was blocked, Christine still trembled at the inevitable pain that would occur. Staring blankly up towards the ceiling, Christine tried to keep her mind occupied before her husband came.

Erik loves me. He won't hurt me. Such a dear he is. I'm lucky to have him… poor Raoul. He knew this wouldn't work. Erik… I love this man. I love this man and I'll be his soon. And meet the pain—no! Don't think it. Um, I cannot await my return to the stage and sing as Prima Donna. Erik will watch me… he's always there. My Angel. My sweet good beautiful Angel. I owe him my life for the gifts he had bestowed on me. I'll make him proud to be his wife. I'll make him proud—

She heard the door close as heavy footsteps walked slowly and the sound of something dragging on the floor. The closet was opened and quickly shut. Christine didn't question what he was doing, but waited quietly like the good wife that she was. She heard his heels spinning and the footsteps coming in her direction. Smiling brightly, she held out her arms to him as his weight came sinking on the mattress. He gathered her to him, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Erik…" she breathed lovingly, her head tilted up as her lips parted for him to taste her.

Oddly he didn't. Erik moaned low in his throat as he hurriedly worked the dress off her body. He never bothered to kiss or touch her. His urgency frightened her, but she told herself she was being silly and that Erik wouldn't risk scaring her. They loved each other after all.

When her dress was discarded on the floor, Erik moved away and she heard the dropping of his clothing on the ground. There was a slight pause and he joined her back on the bed, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her up so they touched chest-to-chest.

"Erik…" she cooed once the feeling of flesh on flesh met. Just the mere touching sent a trail of warmth through her limbs and she quivered from the sudden chill of the room. She needed him, all of him to warm her up. "My love…"

He grunted in reply and gently laid her back down. She sensed him moving on top of her, his legs straddling her hips as his weight was put on his arms to keep himself from crushing her. Then she felt him poking at her thighs to spread them apart.

She froze. No tender caresses? No sweet loving words whispered in her ear? Was he… was he going to do it without putting her at ease? He knew she was afraid! He should know this wouldn't be the right course to take…

"Erik, please. I'm scared," Christine whimpered and the rushing ceased immediately. All was silent and then she felt no more. She sat up, her arms out searching for him. Biting her lower lip, she suppressed a sob from coming. She didn't mean to make him think she was rejecting him! That's the last thing she would ever do to this man who had loved her for so long.

"Erik?" she cried, panic rising in her tone. "Erik? I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—oh Erik! I want to be good. I need your guidance…"

There was a rustling and finally Christine's hand landed on skin. Blushing, her hand crept upward briefly grazing his mask until it was tangled in his soft dark curls. "Love me Erik," she pleaded, almost desperately. She didn't want to push him away. No. She wanted him more than anything! More than air itself! He was her life, her air to breathe.

His hands pressed on her shoulders so she could lie down once more and she complied eagerly. Then so reverently and lovingly, Erik caressed her body, not leaving an inch untouched. He explored every curve of skin and bone, as his skillful musician hands glided down from her chest, to stomach, to hip, and feet. He retraced his movements until he was massaging her aching breasts.

She arched into his touch, crying his name in a never-ending prayer. The increasing inferno overwhelmed her and the only coherent thoughts she could think of was this man giving her such pleasure.

"Erik!" she choked out when without warning he drove himself inside her hard. Moving frantically, he didn't give her the time to adjust to his expansive girth. Just vaguely in the back of her mind, she realized she didn't feel that much pain as it was soon becoming exquisite pleasure beyond her imagination.

Christine tried to grab his face down to hers for a kiss, but he evaded her hands and pressed them above her. His face was hiding in the crook of her neck as he moaned and whimpered. All too soon he collapsed, completely spent as his breath came in short and quick pants.

Grinning, Christine ran her hands through his sweat-glistened hair. His body then shifted to her side as he wrapped her close to him.

Exhaustion crept upon her and Christine gave in with one last, "I love you".

xxXXxx

The next morning, Christine woke with the blindfold gone and alone in bed.

Sighing, she moved to stand up and winced. Her pelvis and joints were screaming in pain but she wouldn't let him know. It would crush him to know he accidentally hurt his precious flower.

Christine threw on her nightie and went out to look for her husband. Glancing about he wasn't there in sight.

Well, I should make breakfast for him before he gets back from wherever, she thought unhappily. This was not how she expected the morning after to be like. She dreamt they would spend the hours lying together in a sweet embrace, talking about the night and how much it meant to them.

Before she went to the kitchen, she figured he would like to have the paper to read while eating. The landlord told them it would be provided for them and sure enough there it was on the porch. Christine bent down; trying not to cry out at the movement, and quickly carried it back inside. She set it down on the table as the headline caught her attention:

Man Believes to be Phantom Escaped

Patient Gabriel Legrand escaped from the Parisian Mental Asylum yesterday afternoon. From what doctors' say, Legrand believed himself to be the infamous Phantom of the Opera at the Opera l'Garnier that supposedly terrorized the theatre for years. He was admitted on the accounts of causing the murders of the three local men by using the so-called Punjab lasso that was made infamous by the Opera Ghost. He is a tall, bulky man running around in a poorly made white mask and cloak. He is a highly dangerous man and police are warning citizens to stay inside and keep all doors and windows locked until the fiend is caught.

Christine's handflew to her mouth. How horrible! She needed to warn Erik about this and of all times he had to be missing!

She knew she should heed the warning but she wasn't going to sit around and wait for him to return when a lunatic is running about. She ran into the bedroom and flung opened the closet.

Soon as the door flew open, whatever Erik stored in there the other night fell out at her feet.

It took a few moments for her to register what she was staring at. Slowly the dawning horror crossed her countenance as she looked down upon a body… Erik's body.

Backing away, she fell to the ground, her eyes not once leaving the corpse of the man she loved.

His mask was broken, though still attached to his face with blood sprayed on the white plaster. More was seeping out as part of his head was bashed in from a heavy object. His mouth opened as if to scream, his once golden eyes lost its fiery look and gazed at her in a lifeless but terrified manner. Around his throat was none other than the infamous catgut lasso.

Finding her voice, Christine let out a blood-curdling shriek. Scrambling up, she grasped for the doorknob when it moved on its own accord. Shrinking back she watched as a man stood, blocking the doorframe with his intimidating height. He had her Erik's jet-black hair and built, but his eyes were jaded and bloodshot as they flicked from her to the deceased. A crooked grin spread out on his pale lips as he stepped forward.

"My beautiful Christine is at last awake. How did my Angel of Music sleep?"

The End