Christine Daaé felt a shiver of anticipation as she sat on the high velvet pedestal in Erik's library. She wore a deep red satin gown that revealed far too much skin to be decent and hoped that Erik would like it. As she gazed at his well stocked bookshelves and stacks of sheet music and architectural plans she marvelled at the brilliance of this man who had chosen to love her.
Suddenly she felt the atmosphere change and a warm body was pressed flush against her bare back. A graceful arm wrapped about her as gentle fingers caressed her cheek.
"Ah Christine, you alone are beauty," he breathed.
"Erik," was all Christine could sigh in return, breathless already.
"How well red becomes you, and serves too, to heighten my lust for you." Erik began a trail down her neck, lightly stroking down her arm to intertwine fingers with hers.
"I notice you wear the earrings I gave you, and though your gown is stunning; it does not hold a candle to the perfection of what lies beneath. I should like to see you in only the diamonds that adorn your ears."
At his bold statement, Christine's heart began to pound. "Then I should like to see you without this," she returned as she reached up and untied the ribbon that held Erik's mask in place. Gone were the days of fury and tears. Christine had seen Erik enough times without the barrier she hated for him to accept her gesture. Lightly, tenderly, he closed his mis-matched eyes and touched his twisted cheek to her silken hair, burning desire cooled for this moment of relief at her continued acceptance.
Mask gripped tightly in her left hand so as not to cruelly discard something that her love felt was so important, she dug her nails into the velvet seat and pleaded:
"Touch me Erik,"
"Beg me."
"Erik, I beg you, touch me now," she acquiesced as her head fell back to rest upon his shoulder in an open gesture. To her delighted gasp, Erik slid those mesmerising hands over her breasts and down her body until he found the fabric of her dress at her thigh. In one fluid movement he had the gown bunched at her waist, exposing the softness of her body. It felt to Christine as though time stood still as he moved to touch her. To slide those talented fingers, so used to caressing the strings of a violin, within her. When he played music she was held enraptured, entranced. Feeling jealousy for the way he held the instruments.
"You feel like honey," he whispered low in her ear.
"You made me feel it Erik, my desire burns only for you," she replied arching against him.
"And you created the desire within me Christine," he continued, pressing himself against her back. A thrill ran through Christine at the thought that she could create such a reaction in a man. As Erik began unfastening the few buttons at Christine's back, she reached around and undid his trousers, reaching in to feel the pleasing length of him.
Erik slid the gown from Christine's shoulders until she wore it only as a sash of silk around her waist. Skilfully he spun her about to face him and parted her thighs, granting no hesitation as he thrust into her. Crying out his name and wrapping her arms around him, Christine writhed impatiently for him to move. Slowly, gently, he leaned down and kissed her neck, leaving little moist patches wherever his swollen red lips touched. How Christine loved those lips. They were intriguing and seductive, more pleasing on her flesh and more sensitive to touch.
"Kiss me Christine," he bid. She knew that that one simple act held more intimacy for him than the act of physical love. To kiss him showed acceptance, loyalty and love. More so than a thousand words could.
Savouring every second, she leant into him and kissed his deformed lips. She felt him shiver with pleasure as her tongue touched the most sensitive part.
"Beautiful, exquisitely beautiful," Christine smiled hazily as she leant back to admire the sculpted uniqueness of this man.
"Christine," he breathed as he leant in and kissed her again, moving his body inside her. Still entwined together, Erik lifted Christine into his arms and carried her to the bed. As he gently laid her against the pillows, she drew his outer layers from him and slipped her own dress over her head.
"Make love to me Monsieur Le Fantôme," she grinned wickedly, pulling him down atop her.
"Whatever you desire, Mademoiselle," he returned, once again pressing himself into her, their bodies moving as one. Christine was sure she'd leave marks on his skin as she clutched him tightly as though in fear he'd disappear.
They always played this game of Adoring Phantom and Virgin Soprano but this wasn't the true case for Christine loved Erik and Erik was no Phantom. Not any more.
Falling out of character and returning to their roles of husband and wife, Erik triumphantly bid;
"I think we may have done it that time."
"I hope so, but Erik, we've been trying for months now without even a glimmer of hope," Christine replied sadly.
Pulling her close and kissing her crown, Erik gently replied;
"We are meant to have children Christine, and we will. I'll never give up the hope of starting a family with you. In fact, would you be opposed to trying again now?"
"Already? My Erik, how keen you are!"
"Not Erik, 'The Phantom' remember?!" he joked.
"Oh, of course, or how about 'Angel'? My angel who taught me much about music, and everything about love."
