C/W: Explicit sexual content. Enjoy!
Christine Daaé stared at her reflection in the mirror that hung over the sink in her bathroom, the only item of its kind in Erik's underground home - a home that was technically now hers as well, although she had yet to fully reconcile that fact in her mind.
She had found herself doing this exact thing more and more often when she bathed. Although she had found that the only way to get through the days since she had agreed to become Erik's wife was to try not to think about anything too deeply, Christine suspected she had developed this habit because it helped her hold on to her sense of herself, the knowledge that she was still Christine, somewhere deep inside herself.
Forcing her mind to clear, Christine reached for her dressing gown, donning it without bothering to put on her nightdress underneath it before she wandered into the sitting room, collapsing onto the settee before the fireplace. Letting her thoughts drift to her husband, she tried to estimate just how much time had passed since he had left to do his errands.
As the months had ticked on after their marriage, Christine had found that it was becoming more and more difficult for her to judge the passage of time accurately, and she began to grow nervous, as she often did lately when Erik left their home. What if something happened to him while he was out - what would she do then?
Again forcing her mind onto a different track before full-blown panic could set in, Christine thought of Erik's recent comments about seeing her onstage again - comments that she was taking as a positive sign that he would soon let her return to work at the opera. She sensed he was waiting until he felt he could trust her not to flee at the first opportunity, even though Christine knew that if she did so, it would certainly mean death for Raoul. And perhaps Erik was wise to not trust her yet - even though she had chosen to marry him to save Raoul's life, she wasn't entirely certain that she wouldn't run if given the opportunity. And, to make things even more confusing, she wasn't entirely sure she would run, either. As much as she resented what Erik had done to her, the thought of never seeing him again was not one that Christine found herself wanting to contemplate.
After an indeterminate amount of time spent staring into the fire, Christine found herself startled out of her reverie by the sound of Erik's voice.
"Hello, Christine," he greeted her, causing her to jump up from the settee in shock. Whirling to face him, her eyes settled on him standing uncertainly in the doorway. Feeling a conflicting swirl of emotions at the sight of him, Christine tightened her fists. It frequently rankled her that Erik acted so subservient and insecure around her when he had so completely taken over her life. And the fact that she felt relief at seeing him certainly didn't help her feel any better. Not for the first time, she wondered what might be wrong with her that she felt such a pull toward a man like him.
But there was one situation in which she had learned she would always have the advantage over him.
Crossing the room to stand in front of him, Christine reached up and tore the mask from his face, feeling a surge of satisfaction as he made a vague noise in protest but didn't try to stop her.
"You were gone too long, Erik. It made me nervous."
Refusing to meet her gaze, he muttered hopefully, "Does that mean Christine missed Erik?"
Oh yes, she was in control, no matter how fleeting that control might be.
Strolling back across the room, she tossed over her shoulder, "Don't be ridiculous, Erik. My concern was entirely over the fact that I would be trapped here if you didn't return."
Feebly, he tried to protest, "But Erik was out getting food for Christine, and presents, too."
"I don't care!" she snapped, holding his mask in front of the fireplace. "Maybe I should burn this one as well."
"No! Please, no," Erik whined, predictably dropping to his knees. "I'm sorry, Christine," he continued, falling forward to the floor in despair. "Please forgive Erik," he pleaded, beginning to pull himself toward her on the floor in the serpentine manner she had seen more times than she could count by now.
She waited until he was directly in front of her, head still bowed in supplication, before answering him.
"Fine," she said, tossing the mask toward a corner of the room. "I won't burn this one. But you need to make it up to me, Erik."
"Yes, yes, of course," he answered, daring to reach forward and wrap his long-fingered hands around each of her ankles. Christine saw him dart a questioning glance up at her, and when she didn't stop him, he then leaned forward, pressing his thin lips to one of her ankles, kissing it in a manner that Christine could only describe as reverent before pulling back and licking over the spot he had just kissed.
Slowly, he slid his hands around to her calves, running them up to the backs of her knees before moving them slowly up her inner thighs. Pressing a kiss to the side of her knee, Erik hesitated just before his fingers reached her core. "May I, Christine?"
"May you what, Erik? Say it."
"May I…touch your cunt?" he asked, sounding as though he expected her to refuse him.
"You may. And then you know what to do next."
At her words, Erik hesitantly stroked a finger over her before slipping it inside, gasping "Christine, you're so wet, so perfect."
"Mmm," she murmured, quickly becoming lost to the sensations inspired by Erik's ministrations. Whatever else might be true of him, he certainly had what seemed to be an innate ability to know exactly how to please her physically.
After pulling his finger from her, he circled her clit a few times before leaning forward and replacing his hand with his mouth. As he licked back and forth along her slit several times, Christine fumbled for the tie of her robe, pushing it open so she could start playing with her nipples, hearing a low moan from Erik that confirmed he had noticed what she was doing to herself.
"Oh, yes, Erik, that's very good," she praised him as he settled to gently sucking at her clit after licking it a few times, as usual using his mouth in all the ways that she liked best.
It wasn't long before Christine climaxed, reaching down to pull the wig from Erik's head, tossing it to the side so she could pull him even closer to herself, pressing against him as she rode out her release.
After she finished, Christine staggered back a step to collapse on the settee behind her. She looked at Erik, still kneeling on the floor, and felt a pang of sympathy for how uncomfortable he must be in that position - only then to instantly feel angry at herself. Erik had completely uprooted her life and taken away all her choices; what did she care if he was somewhat uncomfortable?
Erik spoke, distracting her from her inner conflict. "Christine, can Erik…release himself?" he asked softly, as she noticed that he was already palming himself over his trousers.
"No," she answered impulsively, seeing his skeletal face fall as he slowly pulled his hand away. "I want you to come inside me," she continued, spreading her legs slightly, as Erik's eyes glazed over with lust - and possibly other emotions she didn't care to consider too closely.
He crawled over her slowly, fumbling to open his trousers, but Christine reached out her arms to him. "Kiss me first."
Erik promptly obeyed her command, kissing her hesitantly at first, but then responding when Christine flicked her tongue against his mouth, deepening the kiss and giving her a sense of primal satisfaction at the taste of herself on his thin lips.
When he whimpered against her mouth, Christine knew Erik was growing close to losing control. Pulling back from their kiss, she reminded him, "Inside me, Erik."
Panting, he wordlessly heeded her command, managing to open his trousers completely before taking himself in hand and slowly entering her, stopping when he was fully inside her.
"It's all right," she whispered, and Erik gave a shuddering sigh at her words, moving a few times before freezing over her as he emptied himself into her.
Closing her eyes, Christine vaguely noticed Erik pull out of her and collapse on the floor next to the settee, trying to ignore reality and hold on to the blissful haze she was still experiencing from their encounter, but after an indeterminate amount of time a nearly inaudible sob pulled her from her dreamlike state.
Blinking, her gaze landed on Erik where he knelt next to the sofa, obviously crying even though he was trying to remain silent. Sitting up, she reached for him, silently guiding him to rest his head against her stomach.
Christine waited for him to collect himself, alternating between stroking her hands gently over his shoulders and the back of his head, hating that she had this urge to comfort him but unable to stop herself, glad when he finally spoke and provided her with a distraction.
"Did Erik…please Christine?"
"Yes, you did," she reassured him, wishing she was lying. "Now, what do you think, Erik? Are you ready to go to bed?"
When he nodded, she urged him to stand, taking his hand and leading him to her room, knowing that even after all this time Erik wouldn't enter her room without an invitation from her.
After they had undressed and gotten into the bed, Christine rolled over, leaving her back to Erik. She felt his hands lightly stroke over her hair for a few moments before he spoke.
"I love you, Christine."
Closing her eyes, Christine waited for him to continue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response without him having to ask for it.
"Will you tell Erik you love him, Christine?"
Releasing her breath at the carefully worded question he had asked her so many times, she responded, "Yes, Erik, I love you."
"Thank you," he whispered in response, and Christine squeezed her eyes tighter, hating herself for the fact that while Erik believed her response to be nothing more than an act of pity on her part, she was no longer sure that it was.
In fact, she was no longer certain of anything anymore.
A/N: Thank you for reading, and please feel free to let me know what you thought!