A/N: Thanks for clicking on my story! This is a bit of an usual one, and needs a little explanation. This is a sequel to a brilliant story by shinyfire entitled 'Andrew Lloyd Webber and the Masturbatory Phantasy', which she has posted on AO3, and was in turn inspired by a concept by paperandsong (see 'Metal Bed Frame' and 'Men of Letters', also on AO3). I would recommend reading shinyfire's story first, as this continues that fic directly, but if you're not an AO3 user, I'll sum up very briefly: this is a universe where Erik and Christine are both immortal, and Erik makes a point to visit people who have told his story to the world and let them know exactly what he thinks of their efforts. Also, I have one more important credit that will be included in the end notes. So, I hope you enjoy this E/C crackfic!

As Christine led Erik through that man's enormous golden wardrobe, she felt a great satisfaction in slamming the door behind them as hard as she could. Still stewing over the composer's colossal nerve in thinking that he knew the story of their love better than she and Erik did themselves, she dragged Erik through the full-length mirror in their bedroom as they returned to their Paris apartment.

When she turned and looked at her husband, however, Christine could see that Erik was still shaken by the encounter, although he had calmed considerably from the time she had first arrived on the scene. Still holding his hand, she asked sweetly, "Are you all right, my love?"

Erik seemed to soften a bit at her words, swaying toward her slightly in a way that Christine was sure was unconscious on his part. "I will be, my Christine. It's just that, that man, that horrible man…"

Pausing to collect his thoughts, Erik lifted his gaze to her, his deep-set eyes glowing yellow in the darkened room in the manner she used to find eerie, but now merely accepted as a part of the man she loved.

"He...he told the world that you died because of me, that it was my fault that you were shot on some pier. He said you died in my arms, that we never had a chance to be happy together, even though it was what we had both wanted all along."

When Erik paused his speech to utter a choked sob, Christine reached over to put the mask she was still holding on the night table, and wrapped her arms around her love, nestling her head into his chest, holding him while he continued speaking. If she had learned one thing from decades of being with her Erik, it was that it was best to let him express all his thoughts when something was troubling him.

"Why, Christine? Why would he think anyone would ever be satisfied with that conclusion? It's - I hate the very thought of it!"

"I know, my love," she soothed him, rubbing a hand up and down his lean back rhythmically. "I know."

When he had seemed to calm a bit, Christine leaned back and tipped her chin up. "Why don't you take a little time to play, and calm your mind, my angel? And while you do that, I might take a shower. I feel I need one after what we witnessed today," she concluded, unable to repress the slight shudder than ran through her at that recollection.

Once she had Erik seated at his organ, Christine made her way to their bathroom, trying to ignore the strains of Don Juan Triumphant that followed from the music room. All these years of hearing it had done remarkably little to lessen her response to his opera, but with the horrific scene from earlier still fresh in her mind, now was not the time.

Thankfully, once she had closed both the bedroom and bathroom doors and was under the stream of water in the shower, Christine could no longer hear her husband's playing. Reaching for the shampoo, she let the warm water wash over her and tried to let it clean away the memories of the day. That was something she could have happily gone the rest of her (possibly eternal) life without witnessing.

After she had dried her hair and dressed in comfortable clothes - there was much that she missed of the life she had lived so very long ago now, but things such as leggings and hooded sweatshirts sometimes made that cross easier to bear - Christine sought out her husband at his organ. Sliding her arms around his shoulders, she kissed his sunken cheek tenderly. The lyricist of the first work by the man they had visited earlier had certainly gotten one thing right - this haunted face truly did hold no horror for her any longer, and hadn't for many years.

Smoothing the thin strands of hair off of her husband's brow, she lovingly kissed Erik's forehead before asking, "Are you ready to eat a little something, my love? I think you would feel better if you did."

Wordlessly, Erik nodded and followed her to the kitchen, as gentle as a lamb under her care. Christine motioned for him to sit on one of the tall stools at the counter while she quickly sliced some cheese and apples for their supper, placing it in front of their seats along with a loaf of crusty bread.

Erik had as little appetite in their seeming immortality as he had had in his regular life, but they still required food, and Christine had made it a point over the years to get him to eat somewhat regular meals, even if he ate relatively small amounts at a time.

After they had eaten, Erik seemed to be back to his normal state, or what passed for normal for him, anyway. They retired to the living room and sat on the sofa, where Erik pulled her tightly into his embrace.

They merely held each other in silence for several minutes, before Erik finally spoke. "Do you want to read to me, Christine?"

She nodded, rising to move over to the bookshelf. "Of course, my love. Anything in particular?" she asked, idly perusing the shelves.

When Erik didn't answer for a long moment, Christine looked over her shoulder at him, suddenly knowing what he wanted without him having to say a word. "Oh, all right," she agreed to his unspoken request, blushing a little in spite of herself as she retrieved her phone and came to sit cuddled up against his side.

As she pulled up the website, Christine noticed Erik looking at her curiously. "Yes?" she asked.

"Christine, when you were talking to...him, I noticed you said that you've been told that some of these stories are quite sexy."

Sighing, she reflected that her husband really was a stickler for details. "Well, yes, I didn't think it's any of his business whether we've actually read some of these or not."

Erik appeared to mull that over for a moment. "You're right, as always, my Christine. Although we've certainly read more than just some of them."

Giggling, she opened her bookmarks. Perusing them, she selected a favorite and showed it to her husband. "This one?"

"Christine!" Erik whined. "You know I've had a taxing day! Why would you suggest a story that also involves the vicomte, today of all days?"

Suppressing an eye roll at her husband's dramatics, Christine countered, "Why not? We've had fun reading this one before."

"I'm far too upset to be so indulgent of your fantasies today, my dear!"

Barely restraining herself from mentioning that Erik seemed to enjoy the stories that people referred to as E/C/R also, Christine was about to suggest an alternative, but Erik continued speaking before she could.

In one of his quicksilver mood changes, his tone switched from whiny to sinister. "But maybe Erik would like to read a different type of story, if you're so eager to read about your former lover. What do they call those stories that make Christine so very jealous? Pharoga, I believe?"

Although Christine knew that Erik was trying to hurt her because she had inadvertently hurt him, she hadn't spent decades with this man without learning how to handle his moods.

"Now, Erik, you're just trying to be hurtful. I'm sorry I upset you, but just because you got jealous of my ex doesn't mean it's all right to try to make me jealous of yours."

Waiting a moment to make sure Erik wasn't going to try to turn this into a full-fledged argument, she continued after he said nothing, "Do you want to fight about the past, or do you want to read a story together? It's up to you."

Erik returned her gaze emotionlessly for a long moment, before suddenly closing his eyes. "Erik is sorry, Christine. He doesn't want to fight."

Feeling a twinge of pride at how very far her husband had come, Christine put the phone aside and opened her arms to him, content to just hold Erik and be held in return.

After some time passed, Erik pulled back from their embrace, seeming much more calm than he had been just a short while ago. "Do you still want to read a story, my love?"

Christine smiled and reached for her phone again. Scrolling to her earliest bookmarks, she selected one that she knew they both liked. When she showed it to Erik, he nodded in agreement, and she began to read.

As she read the familiar tale that began with Carlotta stealing a precious possession from Christine, she felt the same appreciation that she always did for the way the author had managed to capture Carlotta's spiteful, petty personality. Christine was more than happy to have that evil woman as no more than a long-ago memory now.

When Christine reached the part of the story where this Erik and Christine hid in a secret space to avoid being discovered by the diva during their attempt to recover the item from her dressing room, she felt Erik's hands nudge gently but firmly at her hips, moving her to sit in his lap, her back against his front.

While she continued to read the story, Erik imitated the actions she recounted, sliding his hands from her hips over her sides, pausing to remove her sweatshirt. Once she was clad only in a camisole and her thin leggings, he resumed his exploration, sliding his long hands underneath her top to lightly caress her breasts and gently stroke his fingers over her nipples.

When one of those hands snaked its way down her stomach into her leggings, Christine lost her place near the end of the story. As Erik slid one impossibly long finger into her, he whispered in her ear, "Keep reading, Christine."

Unable to resist a command from him, she forced herself to continue reading, although it was a good thing she knew this story practically by heart, as the way that Erik was alternating sliding his finger in and out of her with using it to circle her clitoris in the exact manner that she liked best was quite detrimental to her reading comprehension.

The instant Christine reached the end, she was already turning to Erik, reaching for him as she placed her phone on the coffee table, pulling her camisole over her head, before kissing him. Soon Erik had divested her of her leggings, and when he shifted her so that she was lying on her back and he moved on top of her, Christine clung to him as he entered her, relishing the feeling of her husband's thin body as they moved together. Soon, she was crying out as she orgasmed, and then holding Erik to her as he followed her, stroking his back as he pressed his face flush against her neck.

They lay together for a time, wordlessly holding each other, until eventually Erik pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I love you, my Christine."

Turning her face, she met him in a kiss that was slow and gentle this time. "I love you, too, Erik."

He hummed happily, seeming content. After a moment, she asked, "Will you read to me next time?"

As Erik found her lips with his mouth, Christine felt him smile slightly. "Of course, my darling. Anything you want."

xxxxx

Later that night, Christine lay in bed, waiting for her husband to fall asleep. She liked to think that she had had a large amount of positive influence on Erik over their many years together, and felt that the fact that he now slept three to four hours nearly every night was evidence of that being true. It certainly hadn't been easy to convince him to eat and sleep almost daily, but now that he did there had been a definite decline in emotional outbursts on his part. Not that there were no outbursts, but definitely less.

However, if Erik learned what she was currently contemplating, Christine was sure an outburst would be forthcoming, whether he was comparatively better rested and fed or not. Suddenly irritated with herself, she noted that Erik seemed to be asleep now and rose from the bed, picking up her phone before slipping back out into the living room. As she had told Raoul so long ago, she was mistress of her own actions, and she could make her own decisions about how to spend her spare time.

Still, when she had curled up on the couch under a warm blanket, Christine found herself hesitating. Erik had changed for the better in many ways, but he was still Erik, and prone to outbursts and periods of melancholy. As incredible as it seemed when she thought back on the unhinged man who had been prepared to let her turn the grasshopper as her only alternative to marrying him, Christine knew that Erik would never harm her, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't be subjected to an angry tirade if this topic came up between them.

Thinking back over the strange events of the day as a way to delay making a decision, Christine reflected that just as she hadn't been entirely forthcoming with the odd man Erik had visited earlier, neither had he: while his dislike of the man was entirely unfeigned, the two of them had more familiarity with his original comic opera concerning them than Erik had implied. While Erik continued to despise the ending, claiming that he had never groveled before her - a claim that was maybe not entirely accurate, but one that Christine chose to ignore - there were parts of it that she found compelling, to say the least.

When she had first proposed that maybe they could sing a song or two from the show together, Erik had been aghast, but Christine had convinced him to give it a try, mainly by suggesting they start with the song in which Raoul and Christine pledged their love on stage. Having correctly assumed that Erik would be unable to resist a jab at the vicomte even at this late date, they had progressed from there to the sexually charged duet that Erik and Christine shared toward the end of the show - which normally led to them retiring to their bedroom directly afterward.

Erik had even accompanied her to see the production in London several times, somehow managing to procure the only box available for seating, even though it was never available for purchase through the box office. Although he always acted as though he was attending solely for her benefit, there were times Christine thought he enjoyed it more than he would admit.

But the second comic opera that the impresario had created was a very different story - Erik truly despised that production. He had refused to attend a performance in person, not that she had wanted to either - just seeing a recording had been more than enough for both of them, and they had since done their best to forget that false tale.

However, talking about it on their adventure today had made Christine consider something - while the source material was truly cringeworthy, perhaps some of the authors whose works she and Erik had stumbled across had found a way to make it more palatable?

Decided, Christine unlocked her phone. After all, there was surely no harm in merely looking. If she didn't find anything interesting, she never needed to revisit the subject, and if she did...well, eternity was a long time, and it never hurt to find new ways to keep their relationship interesting.

xxxxx

A month later, Christine sat in the living room, waiting impatiently for the sound of Erik returning to the apartment through the mirror. He had chosen today to visit the actor who had portrayed him in the movie version of their comic opera. Erik had never seemed to prioritize visiting this man, but he had called upon every other actor who had played the part in all the different cinematic versions of their story to critique their performances, and she had known he would get around to this one eventually - even if his main complaint was that the man was far too handsome in the role to ever be considered 'deformed'.

When she finally heard Erik enter their bedroom, Christine felt her eyes dart nervously to the package that had been delivered while he was out. Relieved to see that Erik didn't look particularly upset when he entered the living room, she smiled at him and held out her arms, feeling her heart leap with happiness when he came over and lay down on the sofa with his head in her lap.

Gently stroking his few strands of hair, Christine hummed a little before asking him how his visit had gone.

Erik gave her a gentle smile, completely lulled by her soothing attention. "It went well, my Christine. I merely gave him some notes, mainly that he was much too attractive in the role for the movie to have ever been believable."

"That's nice," she cooed, encouraged by how relaxed he seemed.

Suddenly, his yellow eyes popped open. "And, I told him of the many fanfictional works that his portrayal inspired. I was trying to indicate how annoying having to comb through so many references to bulging muscles can be, but I don't think he understood. He seemed more flattered than anything."

Christine made a noncommittal noise in response and they both lapsed into a comfortable silence, until Erik's gaze drifted to the box she had been fretting over earlier.

"What's that?" he asked idly, and Christine tensed a bit in spite of herself.

"It's...something I ordered. For you, actually."

With his normal grace, Erik rose and crossed the room to open the package, pulling out a long black coat. Glancing over his shoulder with a knowing look on his face, he asked innocently, "Why, Christine, what is this for?"

Knowing that he was thinking of the time she had purchased a black cloak for him to wear while they sang a certain duet together, and of everything that had happened after, Christine blushed. "Oh, it's just something I had made. I thought it might look good on you."

Rising, Erik eyed the garment speculatively before donning it, watching closely for her reaction. "It's rather unusual, isn't it Christine? I feel like I've seen something similar, but I can't think of where."

Hoping her smile didn't appear nervous, Christine prevaricated, "It looks very nice, Erik. What I was thinking was you could leave the room, and then when you come back in, I'll pretend I haven't seen you in...a long while, and I'm so startled that I faint. Then you are very concerned, of course, and rush over to me…"

Christine trailed off as she saw the look on Erik's face change from interest to something darker.

"That's an oddly specific scenario, Christine."

When she merely smiled, unsure of what to say, he frowned and removed the coat. As Erik's eyes took in the odd, high collar and the embroidery adorning the shoulders, Christine knew the exact moment he made the connection.

"Christine! How could you? You know I hate that vile show more than nearly anything!"

Acting quickly to salvage the situation, Christine crossed the room to Erik and wrapped her arms around him, running her hands over his back soothingly. "I know, my love, I know."

After he had calmed a bit, Christine leaned back, not willing to give up on this idea. "Would you consider it, though, for me?"

"Christine!"

Pressing on, she bargained, "Will you just read the lyrics to this one song? I don't think either of us paid very much attention to any of the words when we watched the recording."

With a long-suffering sigh, Erik gave a single nod. "Very well, if it will please my Christine. But Erik makes no promises."

Hiding her smile, knowing that by agreeing, Erik was going to be just as helpless to resist her as he normally was, Christine retrieved her phone and handed it to him after pulling up the lyrics he had agreed to read. He remained mostly silent as he read quickly, but when he muttered "Three times?" to himself at one point, she knew she had won, a conclusion that was confirmed when he handed her phone back to her and silently slid the coat on again.

Eyes gleaming, she directed him to the door again, only to collapse gracefully to the floor when he reentered the room. Cracking an eye, she watched Erik sweep across the room, only to inwardly cringe when he bent over her with his hands braced on his knees.

"Like this, Christine?"

"Well, actually, you need to kind of swoosh the train of the coat behind you, and bend down on one knee, before you pick me up."

"Swoosh? You want me to 'swoosh' this coat, whatever that means?"

"Yes, you know…" Christine trailed off as she moved her arm, trying to demonstrate what she was talking about.

Erik reached for the train of the coat and moved it behind him, but with his impossibly thin frame and the stiff way he was holding himself, it looked more like a bird flapping its wing than anything else. "Like this?"

She must have hesitated too long, because Erik exhaled and started to rise before Christine grabbed his arm. "Well, not exactly, but we'll work on it. We have nothing but time, you know."

That was apparently the right thing to say, because her husband's thin lips curved at the thought. "I suppose you're right, my dear," he said before sweeping her up in his arms.

Smiling, she encouraged him, "Well, you got that part right," and when she saw a look of self-satisfaction cross that horrid face that had become so impossibly dear to her, Christine decided to push her luck a bit. "And maybe, we could even try singing that song together."

Erik looked like he was going to argue that point, so she quickly continued, "Think of how much fun we could have."

Her husband merely stared at her as he carried her into their bedroom, but when he laid her on the bed, he gave a long-suffering sigh as he removed the coat once again. "Perhaps Erik would consider it."

Giggling, she opened her arms to him, thrilling when Erik joined her on the bed and kissed her tenderly. "What more could I ask of my devoted husband?"

She could see his eyes glow in the dark room as he answered her, just before his lips met hers once again. "This should prove that there really is no limit to what Erik will do for his Christine."

Laughing against his mouth, Christine wrapped her arms around Erik, holding him close as they once again lost themselves in the nearly magical passion that had always existed between them, that connection that somehow so many people who had read or watched the different portrayals of their story had sensed, despite the evidence they were incorrectly given to the contrary. She would never understand how it had happened, but somehow these writers and artists had given her and her love this chance at eternity, and she intended to make the most of every day she had with her Erik.

A/N: The story Erik and Christine read together is La Carlotta's Dressing Room by Maze-zen, one of my favorites and a perfect fit for this story (appearing here with permission). I hope you enjoyed this story, and please leave a comment if you would like, I always love hearing from you all!