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Do I Dream Again?	By : LaurieBaker Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 10050 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Alone in the bedroom, Christine stared at her reflection in the bedroom mirror which Erik had reluctantly supplied for her at her request. Who was the woman who looked back at her with all the drowsy satisfaction of a cat lying about in the sun? The person before her appeared entirely too voluptuous and seductive to be decent, even when she was primly dressed up in a modest purple day dress buttoned up to her throat, even with her hair tied back tightly at the nape of her neck.

Who was this woman? She could not be Christine Daae.

At moments like this, when she was alone and away from Erik’s influence, the strict Catholic tenets enforced in her youth would plague her mercilessly. In the first place, surely it was wrong to care so deeply for a murderer who had never truly atoned for his actions. Yes, he had suffered horribly as a young boy. But that did not excuse all of his crimes and sins. And it did not excuse her for turning a blind eye to them. She had broken off an engagement with an honorable decent man to be forced into a marriage with a man too dishonest to even wed her in her right mind. And never mind her moral rectitude, what about her pride? Giving in to Erik and this marriage was practically rewarding him for his duplicity.

But when Christine was in the same room with Erik, she forgot all of her apprehensions and fear. All of her worries seemed to melt in the warmth of the sun. And at night, when they were pressed together naked in the large four poster bed, everything felt so blissfully right. Sometimes, when he was making love to her, she just wanted the world to stop so that she could feel that way forever.

Perhaps that made her feel the guiltiest of all...

Christine was so tormented with mixed emotions regarding the subject of sex. Mamma Valerius had always told her a wife must simply endure conjugal relations in order to procreate. The first time would hurt dreadfully. Afterwards, it would “not be as bad”. Such a cold foretelling of what was in store for her had made her rather dread the prospect of marriage. And whenever she looked at forbidden books of anatomy, she simply could not understand how a man would be able to get that into there!

However in those days, she did not dwell on the matter much as she was devoted to the Angel of Music. She was as loyal and steadfast to her art as a nun was to her religion. The crude matters of what went on between a man and a woman in order to make babies did not concern her. It was not until Raoul de Chagny had come into her life with his flirting glances and kisses...and it was not until her Angel revealed himself as a man who had his own secret desires...

Then everything became so complex.

To complicate matters, she would often hear all of the lewd stories which reverberated throughout the hallways of the Paris Opera House dressing rooms. Many an evening, she would hear La Carlotta and La Sorelli comparing notes on their various lovers in not-so-hushed whispers. Who had the largest appendage? Who had the most endurance in the bedroom? Who was the handsomest? The wealthiest? Such descriptions were equally as off-putting to Christine as Mamma Valerius’ dour warnings. They spoke of their lovers more as if they were racehorses than human beings. Indeed, she had heard more intimate details about Sorelli’s lover, Phillippe de Chagny (who just happened to be Raoul’s older brother), than she had ever cared to know. Only women of the lowest sort would discuss such forbidden subjects as openly as they did. And truth be told, Christine felt that Carlotta and Sorelli were only a few steps away from the gutter when it came to their morals. She did not want to be like them.

Yet the reality of the situation was that she too had a weakness for flesh. She had learned that about herself these last few days.

How foolish to think that once she had given herself to Erik, they could at last be free of this mutual obsession for each other that had ruled their lives for so long. If anything, the opposite was the case for they could not seem to get enough of one another. His ardor for her had not cooled one bit. And as for herself...the problem was not that she found her husband’s lovemaking more pleasant than she had expected to. It was that she craved his touch so often and intensely that she was sometimes worried that she was perhaps mentally disturbed.

Later that first night when they had lain together, she had only meant to comfort him when he awoke in the throes of a nightmare. She was not accustomed to seeing him so vulnerable and in distress. She wondered what horrors he had known to make him thrash and cry out in the night. Such thoughts made her feel horribly sorry for him. And she wanted to hold him to her breast and soothe away all of the pain.

At first, that is what happened.

Yet the feel and scent of his warm body pressed against her own worked upon her like a drug. She had a taste of what it was like to be a woman and wanted more. Before she knew it, she began kissing him and could not stop. The familiar hunger took over as she explored his body with her mouth and hands. She halfway feared that he might push her away in shock and disgust. But her curiosity only enflamed his own lust. He not only allowed her to take such liberties in the bedroom, but he encouraged them. They fed off of each other’s passions with insatiable ferocity, making each coupling more intense and pleasurable than the last.

Funny how Erik had contrived over the years to capture her by so many different means. He had pretended to be the Angel that her father promised to send to her. He came for her through her dressing room mirror. He had tried to win her through both bribery and blackmail. He had hypnotized and seduced, frightened and threatened. Yet now, he had truly caught her by simply being a man with a man’s needs. For despite all of her misgivings, she did not know how she could ever break free from him now.

How could she ever return to her life in London or in Paris now? He had stalked his way so deeply into her heart that she would never be able to start a new life without him. And what perhaps disturbed her the most was that she no longer wanted to escape him. She was perfectly content just as she was. As his captive wife held in this fairytale forest, she had never felt more whole.

“Christine?”

Christine started at the sound of his voice.

“I am sorry, sweetheart,” he soothed. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

Christine observed Erik’s reflection as he came to stand beside her. He did not appear out of the ordinary. Dressed in his usual attire of a simple white ruffled shirt with black trousers, he donned his mask and wig. Although his looks would startle a stranger, she had grown accustomed to them. So why did the mere sight of him make her heart pound with such excitement?

“I have been waiting for you to join me for dinner,” he continued, enfolding his arms about her waist. “Why are you so tarrying so?”

“I am sorry, Erik. I guess I am just...”

Her words trailed off as he bent his head to kiss at the sensitive spot at her shoulder. What a blackguard! He knew all too well what that would do to her!

“Yes, my dear, you’re just...what?” he asked, nuzzling playfully at her flesh.

“Not hungry...” Not for food.

Had there ever really been a time when he had repulsed her? Those days seemed so long ago. Even on the few occasions that he would allow her to see him without his mask, she now found him devastatingly attractive. As he towered behind her, she could not keep from devouring the sight of his image in the mirror. How she loved his sculpted cheekbone, the line of his exposed throat, the small curls on his chest visible above the lining of his shirt...

“My dear, are you ill?”

When he looked up at her, she trembled slightly as she gazed into his eyes. She did feel horribly warm...and there was an ache in the pit of her stomach...but it was not illness that caused her symptoms. She blushed when he slowly began to smile knowingly with a hot glint in his eyes. How unfair that he could read her like a book!

“On the other hand,” Erik said as he proceeded to work at the buttons on her dress. “Perhaps dinner can wait...”

-----------------------------

And so the days and nights passed by in a dreamy sensual haze. Summer cooled into fall. The leaves in their fairytale forest matured into a sea of red, gold and brown.

One morning, Christine stirred and did not find Erik lazing beside her in bed. With a slight pout, she rolled over and heard the sound of organ music in the background. Apparently she had lost her husband to his creative muse. Sighing softly, she slipped on a robe and joined him in the music room.

“Christine!” he cried out jubilantly, seated before the pipe organ and wearing nothing but his red silk dressing gown. “I had the most marvelous inspiration of a dream for Wuthering Heights. And I could hear the melody just as plain as day! I had to write it all down while I could still remember.”

“That’s wonderful, Erik!”

“Yes,” he nodded, seeming quite pleased with himself. “I have been a very poor composer as of late. I haven’t written so much as one note in months. But all that must change now. The opera season shall soon begin. And I intend for you to play Cathy in Wuthering Heights before the year is out with a spectacular Christmas gala to end the season!”

“Oh.”

Erik stopped his writing to glare at her.

“My dear, a little bit of enthusiasm is not necessary but it would be appropriate. After all, I am writing this piece for you!”

There was an awkward silence between them.

“But, Erik, I thought you did not believe in Christmas.”

He shrugged nonchalantly.

“I don’t, but a lot of fools do. It is simply a good business decision.”

More interminable silence.

“Really, Christine, you needn’t look at me all wide-eyed!” Erik chastised her. “After all, this will be the best role you have ever had. I know how you have felt. You have been so shamed at the notoriety of our prior...adventure...that you think that the opera world thinks on nothing else but to connect you with the misfortunes of that time. But this shall show them all, Christine! This will show them that true talent shall not be tamped down! HA! HA! And with your talent and my genius, we shall set the world aflame with our music just as we had always dreamed!”

“It does sound lovely, Erik, and I am so glad that you are thinking of me...”

With a flourish, he arose from the organ bench.

“Think of you? I do nothing but think of you, my wife, my queen...”

He began to smother her with kisses, naughtily running his hands along her naked flesh underneath her robe.

“Oh, Erik...don’t...not right now, not when I must tell you...”

“Why are you suddenly so shy, sweet bride?” he coaxed, planting a sweet kiss on her lips. “I am your slave and I would do anything for you,” he murmured as he held her tightly against his chest.

“Do you really mean that, Erik?” Christine cried out breathlessly.

“How can you doubt me?”

“Then you will not be angry with me?”

“Why should I be angry with my little wife?” he teased as he kissed her on the ear.

“As lovely as the opera sounds, Erik, I am afraid it may not be possible.”

“Of course, it is possible, my dear. Granted, you will need to work a bit to regain your vocal stamina, but I have no doubt that with a little time and practice...”

“That is not what I mean!” Christine interrupted hastily, pulling away from him. “I mean that I simply will not be able to do it!”

Erik glared at her silently for a few minutes, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I cannot understand this lack of faith in yourself, my dear. This is unlike you.”

“This has nothing to do with my voice!!”

Erik looked completely befuddled.

“I am afraid I still don’t understand.”

“Well, I am not sure, but...oh, I didn’t want to tell you this way...”

Christine bowed her head in frustration.

“Christine, my dear, there is no need for all this hemming and hawing about,” Erik lectured as he held her hand and kissed it. “I thought we had grown past such nonsense. Have we not had a very amicable marriage once we surpassed those first few obstacles?”

Christine nearly laughed out at his rose-colored phrasing of what their situation had been. But she nodded in agreement.

“Yes, Erik.”

“Now I may not be happy with what you have to say to me, but I am certain that whatever it is, we can work out whatever complications may cross our path. My child, whatever it is you want to say, just say it!”

“Very well,” Christine swallowed before continuing. “I think I may be with child.”
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Do I Dream Again?