{A/N} NSFW warning. It was going to be fluff until I brought the piano into it, then it... evolved you can say. I hope you enjoy.

The awkwardness that had ruled the house since their marriage was… undeniably painful. Christine wasn't one to point out these things, but her heart had been true in her vows. Even if they were under duress, she did not just give herself on a whim of a madman.

He admitted to almost letting her go, but the pout she had given just seeing the rejection after their kiss, well, who was he to deny her the choice?

Christine had stayed willingly. There was no doubt about it, but their marriage was lacking. Meals were shared, and that was it for any conversation to be had… if there was any. The opera was recovering from his stunt so she could not work. Even the plethora of books he had stocked were wearing thin, and Christine found the sounds of his organ a piercing needle in the thin veil of silence.

The only thing that felt remotely normal was their lessons. How they'd fallen into them again was a curiosity, as Christine wandered over to the piano one day while he played having opted away from his deep toned organ for the softer keys. She hummed a little tune, and Erik had looked up, frowning at her posture, effortlessly directing her to fix it.

They did this each evening after dinner which was arguably the most silent of their meals.

Breakfast was quiet, especially if one considered they slept in different rooms. If she had any dreams, they needed to be shared at the table and not over the pillows, but it was all that was discussed there. He had not attempted to take anything from her since the marriage which may be obvious by their split sleeping. They had only sealed their vows with the quickest kiss she had ever experienced, and Erik did not seem inclined any further.

A part of her yearned for the physical touch of her husband, and it was not only due to the loneliness that living in the catacombs caused. Christine loved him not matter what. She chose him for a reason, wanted him to love her back, but there was no appropriate time to convince him of this.

Why should she convince him if it felt like he didn't want her love? She'd broached the subject but once the day after, wondering if he would share her bed that evening, and the silence that was his answer stuck for good.

Their routine in music lessons only changed by the music they practiced. Christine didn't mind the variation, really. It was the only thing that ever changed.

She was even surprised by him one day when Erik handed her a composition written in his own hand. Christine admitted to hearing it being tapped out over the previous few weeks, but she hadn't imagined it being for her.

The lyrics were simple things about spring, and part of her wondered if it had really been that long since everything happened. Late winter had been upon them when they married, was it a warm spring in Paris that year? He went up for supplies, or they were brought to the door by a companion whose voice Christine had only ever heard echo down the catacombs from the closer entrance.

If it wasn't spring, she enjoyed the challenge at least.

If it was spring, and time had gone by despite her lonely surroundings, then maybe it was high time to do some spring cleaning. And not of Erik's house - their house, but of their relationship.

Christine simply didn't know how to do that. She just couldn't go on being unheld and unloved a moment longer.

He hardly listened to her when they were at meals or tea, so she would need to find another time to get his attention.

Erik's attention was easily earned when she was singing… and when she realized it, Christine was ready to take advantage of such a thing. She had his undivided attention when they were in a lesson.

Such a plan began taking place after a silent dinner, the spring piece more challenging than she had given it credit for.

How she would segue the conversation was what kept her from truly concentrating on the piece however.

"You are out of focus… we can stop for the evening if you are not up to it," he said, looking directly at her in what had to be the most combined words she heard from in since their vows.

Twisting her wedding ring, Christine fought for something to say. Anything that would indicate she wanted his love.

"I apologize, Erik, my focus is on the piece's composer instead of the music itself."

Having turned back to the papers, he paused, taken aback by her words, or so she hoped.

His fingers fiddled with the corners of his score for just a moment before closing the book.

"I think we're done for now."

He went to bed that night and did not say another word. She went to bed feeling beaten down, her heart heavy in her chest.

Christine would have continued to feel unsuccessful if it hadn't been for the fact he seemed to be paying a lot closer attention to her from then on. His eyes caught here looking at him, as though realizing she did watch him more often than not. Did her husband truly not realize that his wife liked to look at him?

She thought briefly he would become self conscious, but Erik never said a word other than his changing glances.

Christine took her success and ran with it, a week later her plan formulated this time.

They were now finished with the spring piece, having perfected it in the last few sessions. She liked his music, and she liked him. It was the perfect way to tell him such a thing.

Their lessons ended with him muttering a small congratulations on her performance of the piece, even if it was just for him to hear. He began to pack it away, saying he would find her something new for tomorrow, and there she knew was her key.

"Could I possibly do one of your pieces again? They are simply my favorite out of all the things you have given me to sing. Your writing is unique and makes me feel… different than anyone else's."

Maybe Christine had gone too far, as Erik seemed stiff while he slid his composition onto the shelves.

"You prefer mine?" He asked over his shoulder, not daring to actually address her.

"I do."

Their wedding echoed in her head, and Christine prayed she was taking steps towards the happiness they'd promised one another then.

"Then it shall be so."

He wished her a goodnight, and Christine took it as a win.

Although he was equally quiet that coming week, his watchfulness did not diminish. He kept his promise and gave her his music, all while glancing up to her far more often, correcting her posture and various forms of vowels.

There was one high note she was having trouble with in her newest piece, though it was two weeks later and no new ways of breaking him in had come to her yet. This did seem promising though as he stopped playing all together, looking at her with frustration in having to say more than a simple command.

"Christine… it says piano. You have to lift your soft pallet and just relax so it comes out quietly. Let's do an ascending scale to get the hang of it."

She did the scale, but it wasn't to the level he wanted.

"We shall come back to it," he said eventually, but Christine was not ready to let it go. Not when she anticipated the way this would turn.

"Describe it just one more time?"

He did so, even singing the note at that volume for her, but Christine had other ideas.

"You mean like as soft as the touch of a lover?"

Erik's eyes met hers frantically, but his face remained emotionless.

"If you think so."

"Yes… like this," she whispered, then did it exactly the way he wanted.

They moved on from the lesson that night, but she did not receive any soft touches from her lover.

Christine thought she had failed with this most recent tactic when a few days passed and nothing.

They were reading respectively one night, her stretched on the divan, him in his chair by the fire. She needed to pass him to get to her room, and tiredness had come over her like a wave for no good reason.

Yawning sealed the deal, and though it was out of turn, Christine got up to head to bed first that evening.

It wasn't that he slept when he went to bed, but usually he got too skittish to stay in the room with her any longer so he would flee to his own chambers.

She bid him a goodnight and set her book down, glancing at him as she began to pass him by, the man engrossed in his novel.

However, the light grasp of her fingers almost startled her when her ears registered a firm yet soft, "Wait."

Christine turned to look at Erik, and his fingers immediately let go of hers. They'd been so cold, but they had felt right touching hers. She yearned for so much more, but grabbing him then and there was probably not going to be good for either of them.

"Have a good night," he said, nodding to her. His hand fumbled with his book, looking all shades of unsure.

"You too," she said with a smile.

From there on, Christine was addicted to the simple touches he would bestow her, and if it weren't for her complete inability to ignore the burning passion for Erik inside her, she would have been content there. But she wanted more than fingers brushing when handing her evening tea, or the physical guidance he would give her when it came to lesson posture.

One day it became too much to bear as he gently put a hand to her back.

"Erik," she had whined, turning to look at him with pleading eyes. His hand immediately left her, and he looked as though he hurt her and felt sorry for it.

"You shouldn't condense your shoulders," he commanded in place of whatever it was that his head concocted for him to say.

She only nodded, but then just thought of something that was true, she didn't even need to prompt herself from her silly little plan.

"My father used to have me rub his shoulders when his violin playing caused him to do the same thing."

Erik's breathing became audible. His chest seemed to move in a ragged pattern as he attempted to digest this information.

"Would you…" he began to offer, but in her excitement, Christine cut him off.

"Please," she practically begged.

This had him all sorts of flustered as motioned her towards the sofa. She moved her hair for him and everything, keeping her smile hidden until his anxious body was behind hers. Then, she simply grinned ear to ear as he gently laid his hands on her shoulders. There was no movement for a minute or so as he adjusted to touching her, but then he began to move and work out her poor shoulders.

They were tight from all the stress her marriage had been causing, if she were honest. It was his fault really, so it was only right he be the one to fix it.

At some point, she moaned with pleasure as his fingers dug into a particularly tender juncture, causing him to stop. He offered her tea and never put her himself near her for the rest of the night. Though he wordlessly led her to such a divine shoulder rub after every subsequent lesson.

Again, content with what she'd earned, but still hungry for more, Christine set her sights on a kiss. She figured the best way to do this was to pick a vowel and begin to pronounce it horribly so he would be forced to fix it physically with his hands. Then she would merely… lean in.

However the French piece Erik gave her seemed to have exposed her tactics. He was cheeky when he handed her the score, a summer tune. Well… maybe he hadn't fully gotten the method she implemented on him.

It was summer in Paris was his true message. Christine's favorite, and this seemed like such a tease, but she would take his olive branch over a Paris summer any day.

The next day that came, Christine decided to just go for her original plan and botched every 'o' in the score. It was a tedious task, continuously and consistently being bad.

He noticed on a tick, upheaving from his piano bench and directing her jaw with a ghost of a touch. She tried to fool him into a little bit more than guidance, but Erik did not take the bait, demanding she stop being petulant and doing as he knew she was capable. Christine did, but she also missed her evening massage.

She hadn't expected to be punished for luring him in, but Erik was an unknown in the game she had decided to play. It was… unfortunate to say the least. He said not a word to her at breakfast, but did keep his eye keen on her anyways.

At dinner it seemed worse, but their lesson was where it grew to annoy her. If he was going to stare, he could at least pretend to want to be nearer to her than brushing her hand for tea.

She was truly frustrated with him at the end of her lesson, as she not so directly suggested they go to bed for the evening forgoing any niceties.

But he hesitated. Erik shook his head, almost against his will, as Christine stood helpless in the crook of the piano. She really was feeling heavy lidded, her heart ready for bed.

"You sound better when you seem… happy. What will make you happy?"

Christine was stunned at his directness, though it still pertained to her lessons. It seemed to be the only time they got through to one another. She wasn't going to waste her opportunity here, nor did she have the strength to lie.

"I would be happy with a kiss."

He looked offended for a moment, but his quick movement towards her was the most aggressive thing she'd seen in months. It was as if he didn't commit he would fly from the room and never come back.

Erik lifted his hand mechanically, placing it against her cheek nervously. Christine reveled in the touch, happy with just that if she were honest. Her eyes closed, and she was pleasantly surprised when his lips met hers.

In fact, she burned with pleasure as he kissed her, but just as she went to keep him there, urging her arms about him, he was gone. Wordlessly ripped from her, he ran and she cried.

The next evening went normal as it could, their lesson meaningless and then a massage afterwords. It took a little longer than usual, but without any notice, Christine felt the light brush of lips on her head when his hands were done.

"Goodnight, my wife."

"Goodnight, husband," she replied, unwilling to look at him and ruin the wonderful moment as his hands lingered on her skin.

Christine was addicted now. Every time he would massage her shoulders and kiss her head after the lesson, obviously attempting to get used to their new arrangement.

Addicted to her small successes, Christine set her sights on conversation. Her partner was affectionate on occasion, but she wanted more than just affection. She wanted to talk to him and find things out.

Though their lessons seemed like the last place to do such a thing, attempting to talk to him while he was teaching was probably taking a step back. It would just shove him back into his protective shell that she'd cracked open a tiny bit.

Though, making conversation with her husband was not easy when they did not talk all that much. She started in the morning with her dreams from the previous night, but Erik merely listened to her.

Lunches were another thing, their lightest meal so Christine hoped to get a few more words in. Alas, he was more focused on his paper that he'd acquired that day than anything.

Dinner was useless. Christine found that he preferred to eat the most then and was not up for any conversation at all.

She downed half a bottle of wine that night, and began to hiccup during her lesson.

Erik was perturbed at this. She couldn't help that the wine had not only gone to her head but also to her stomach. The hiccups were inhibiting their one time she really connected with him, and his sigh of disappointment as she ruined her cadenza was enough to sour his notes and cast her to the couch.

He did not massage her shoulders.

Christine laid down while he read a book, looking solemn. She just couldn't do anything but watch him or close her eyes as the hiccups took her, and the situation was driving her mad.

Attempting to breathe deeply and wish her ailment away, she closed her eyes, hands on her stomach as though lying in a tomb. She'd run out of ideas for making them go away and vowed never to have that much wine again. Although she'd rather vow that her husband would simply give in and act like he loved her just a little bit more.

"Christine?"

She jumped awake, having not heard Erik get up to justify how close his voice was. His unmasked face was inches from hers, and while she was pleased to have him there, why he put himself so close was another question.

"Yes?" She answered him meekly, knowing her bravery in this time had gone fully flat. He was upset with her, and god only knew what he had to say.

He wouldn't ask for a divorce, would he? The thought of returning to a world that didn't miss her curdled her stomach. She hiccuped with the thought as tears brimmed her eyes.

However, if he was going to express his wish to return her, kissing her straight was certainly not the way to do it.

Erik grabbed her waist and shifted her closer to him, making her entire body feel on edge in multiple different ways. His kiss was electric and passionate, the cool pressure from him addicting.

Christine grabbed his neck and refused to let go as they deepened their kiss on the couch. His hand on her waist, having been satisfied with her closeness, moved to her belly and back down to her thigh where he squeezed her just enough to make her insides throb.

Uncertain of how events had turned so wonderfully in her favor, Christine simply let him minister whatever he felt appropriate. Her heart sailed when he climbed atop her, a firm pressure resting in her lap, pushing into spots on her body that made her spine tingle.

Fluidly, as though the motion were simple, he flipped them, and Christine was suddenly above, her dress bunched at her hips and his undeniable arousal pressing dangerously close to her middle.

Was he finally going to give himself to her? She wanted to give it all up, to become one with her husband as his hands gripped her ribs and then floated upwards across her chest.

Christine felt his hands go around her neck, a slight pressure there as well as he reached back a little further and pulled her down to him for yet another searing kiss.

She'd heard enough in the ballet dorms to understand what was happening, but she forgot their tongues were involved until his plunged deep into her mouth, fighting hers.

It was complete bliss as her hips moved for more of that friction that pleasantly tingled her spine.

But as all things did with him, it abruptly stopped. She was flipped back onto the couch as though he was never there, and he stood before her, taller than ever, unashamed of the tell-tale sign of his arousal at her eye-level.

"Is your affliction gone?"

Christine heaved a breath, unaware she'd held it in for so long. Whatever affliction he was speaking of slipped from her mind for all she felt was her own arousal and the ache in her body for more.

"What-" she said, but he seemed perturbed and she did not continue.

"Your hiccups."

They stayed there in respective stances for what had to be at least a few minutes before Christine nodded.

"I think they're gone."

He nodded proudly and returned to his seat, resuming his reading as though nothing had happened.

Without a word, Christine decided it was time she go to bed. Her heartbeat going up so high and the physical excitement her body had gone through was far too much for her to just… return back to whatever it was she was doing. Anger rushed through her as she traveled back to her room intent on changing for the night.

Slowly, she peeled the clothes from her body and imagined Erik doing it, truly wanting her instead of just teasing her with the idea of him. He'd come so far just to what? To get rid of her hiccups? She didn't want to believe such a thing, and her anger was flushed with overbearing arousal.

Looking into the mirror, Christine realized she'd taken everything off, as she had wished for him to do. She'd been told she was desirable, and luckily enough it wasn't just by Raoul. She believed it, there was no reason not to. Her hair was long, her body was thin, and she possessed womanly features that might appeal to a man's eye. Was her Erik so different from regular men? It didn't seem like he was. His reaction was normal, his hands were fluid in their motions. What was stopping him if not her?

If it was her she wanted to know, before she spent a moment longer worrying over it.

So if only for nerves, Christine put her chemise on, a slip of a thing reaching just past her upper thigh, and walked back out, all other clothes forgotten. She was going to woo Erik one way or another.

He either didn't hear her, or expected her not to interact with him as she entered their living room and approached him. Erik did not look up. Christine took her chance and slid before him, watching him glance his eyes towards her quickly then drop his book arm into his lap, his unmasked face completely focused on her now.

The nerves began to control her as she reached around her stomach, feeling her body react to the cold.

"I want to finish my lesson."

"Christine," he said, but she had no idea what it was he meant to say. The words were stuck in his throat, and his eyes were focused quite harshly on her legs.

"My lesson," she stated again.

He looked up at her and seemed to regret it, standing as if to get control of himself, but every movement was sheepish. Christine chuckled as he tripped over his own feet on the way to the piano, nearly stumbling onto the bench. It was what he deserved.

"From where we left off?" He asked, his voice wavering more than when he was offering her life or death. Not that his eyes were any better. They strayed to her chest and her hips, then back up as if he should not have been doing that at all.

He poised to play, attempting to get out of his head, and Christine breathed for her pick-up, but the keys never came. At least she had an idea that it was not, in fact, her.

"Are you cold?"

"No," she said.

Christine knew her posture was perfect, there was no more delaying the lesson if he wanted to. The point was that she really did not want him to. It was time for him to prove that he loved her.

"Christine, is that proper singing attire?"

She thought quickly, having him where she wanted him now.

"No," she answered again, watching him war with himself before adding, "If you think it is inappropriate, then you could take it off of me."

"That's not what I-" he stopped cold, looking at her, eyes wide and jaw slack.

Figuring he would never come out from behind the piano now, Christine walked around it, grabbing his hands from the keys and placing them on her chest.

"I might not have meant a musical lesson."

He kissed her first, pulling her onto his lap as they sat on the piano bench. His hands were fisted on her hips, pulling her in by her chemise, and Christine could feel his arousal. With the way things were going, she would be surprised if he couldn't feel hers. They were so close she would not let him escape this time.

Christine let him kiss her, but her objective was his clothes. Having yet to see her husband naked, she moved quickly, her fingers rushing through the task of his buttons. His vest went first, his hands immediately going back and relocating to her thighs when he regained their control. She had to say it was hard to do much of anything when her husband was kissing her neck as he was.

The ballet girls had left out much what was to be found pleasurable from this act. She'd heard mostly of take, but Erik was all give. Part of her was not surprised.

Christine finally pried his shirt off, and then whimpered as he dared to circle inwards on her thighs.

Her name fell from his lips when he slid a finger inside her, and then the cold of the catacombs fell over her as his other hand lifted her chemise from her. Good thing she possessed balance and in iron grip on his shoulders or she might have fallen off Erik's lap from the sting of his actions and brush of cool air.

He moved both of his hands to her sides and finally looked at her bare before him, It gave her the chance to see him as well. She figured the rest of his body looked like his face, but she wasn't sure how much. The only problem was this part of it was man-made scars.

Christine knew however, he would not take pity kindly and quickly leaned in to bestow the same playful kisses on his collarbone and neck that he'd given her. He moaned his pleasure, the sound magical to her as she reached down and brought his left hand to her chest. The pressure felt divine, and more of that wonderful spine-melting feeling came over Christine as she gently took her teeth to her husband's skin.

He reached around her, still holding her up despite the fact she was hugging his shoulders, and Christine heard the piano cover close. Did he not want the piano to watch them?

Her question was answered when he deftly lifted her onto what would have been the keys if he hadn't had the foresight she clearly was incapable of.

It would have been wrong of her to say she dreamt about what he looked like below his belt, but Christine was not going to be shy now, her eyes keen on his hands as he removed his trousers, letting them fall so he could be skin to skin with her.

The contact was delicious, her timidity coming through just a slight bit at the thought it might hurt. Erik teased her first as he simply let their bodies touch, his hands steady on her body as he bestowed more kisses, deeper each time.

What hurt more than the start, it turned out, was her spine and backside being pushed into the hardwood of the piano when he entered her. He pleased her in a way previously though impossible, and Christine let out a soft moan to encourage him to do more. Erik's face was the picture of bliss as the hand that was steadying them gently grabbed her face. It was the only gentle contact as her hips bucked to meet his and appease the ache in her stomach.

Then, as if time itself stopped, Christine no longer felt pain but the rush of every wonderful feeling combined seizing her spine, all centering around her still-moving husband. Then, as if to torture her, she felt his sensations overcome him as well, his voice muffled as he kissed her hard.

If this is what it was like every time, there was no way she was ever letting them go back from this. It had to be a breakthrough, this would continue to happen, she forced herself to believe as her legs parted and he removed himself from her much to the dissatisfaction of both of their bodies.

Erik kissed her head, as he had done when it was just massages and gentle kisses. Had her husband finally learned at last?

"A bath," came his quiet command, stepping from his clothes and lifting her from the piano that would need a thorough cleaning before it was used again.

"Only if you join me," she told him.

He did join her, and then they joined their bodies once more in the warm water, though it was not nearly as uncomfortable as the piano, they learned the hard way water wasn't the best spot for such passions. Erik slept with her in her bad that evening, them both sleeping the moment their heads hit the pillows.

Christine was shocked by the silence at breakfast and lunch the next day. She worried that he regretted what they had done as their day went like any one before.

A blaring fire was lit before supper when she decided that it was probably time for them to truly talk.

"Erik…" she said, her first word since breakfast.

"Yes?"

He looked pleasant enough, but his mask was on which made it harder for her to read him.

"Do you love me?"

"Christine-"

"I mean do you find my presence enjoyable. I give you my body and my voice, and I thought it would unlock something in our marriage. I want us to be happy… I am so happy, but I want to make sure that you are being fulfilled in all you wish as well. I would be content not to speak as long I knew that you were pleased with me and what we did. I love you dearly, and as much as I want to converse with you through all my hours, you have only listened during lessons. Just… tell me I am not alone here."

Erik smiled of all things, and she couldn't help but feel as though it was him laughing at her.

"Darling… I adore the ground you walk on. And up until the last couple of months, where I have watched you become brilliantly contrite and ambitious in your manipulation of me-" Christine paled to know he realized what she had been doing "-I didn't want to believe that you adored me just as much. And then you had the hiccups and you were playing completely with my heart… there was nothing I could do but take my chance as you had yours. I only listen when I want, as you discovered. But as I was sitting there, and you were laid out like a princess waiting for a kiss, you can imagine that I was keen to fulfill your wishes. I will admit to my cowardice when your hiccups vanished. However, I will be eternally grateful for you anger and determination to get me to bed you. And I apologize your first time was against my poor piano, but I had no chance of making it to your rooms and not falling to the floor to have my way with you."

It had to have been more words than she'd heard from him their entire marriage. His explanation spliced and all over the score, but she didn't care. She bounded around the table, her feet cold against the stone as she ended up in his lap, kissing him plainly.

He was confident in holding her now, his hands sure as he stroked his thumb over her corseted body.

"Skip my lesson?"

"How about an amended version?"

Christine nodded, kissing him again, squealing with joy as he lifted her up in the air.

"And will we make it to the bedroom this time?"

"That remains to be seen."

Christine was thoroughly pleased when she was handed a song about the fall of leaves and autumnal bliss before the chill of winter set in, and along with it, a few kisses as a promise of what was to come later. Her bliss did not come from the seasons, however, it came from her husband who made her quite the happy woman, with his compositions and love, and most importantly, his new-found love for talking her ears off.