Bonjour!

So, I haven't written/posted anything on this site in a very, very long time. And I've only written Star Wars and Maximum Ride stuff, so obviously this is my first Phantom of the Opera work. Awesome.

Criticism is appreciated and encouraged. I apologize if the characters are a bit OOC; it was really the only way I could think of that could make this one-shot work during my AP Biology class.. (:

Summary: Christine's attempts to seduce her husband are futile tonight, but what happens when she becomes the seducee, rather than the seducer? One-shot only.

I never knew that once I married making love would be so addictive.

"Erik," I called sweetly.

The organ answered me, an occurrence that has been happening quite often lately. I frowned in disapproval.

"Erik," I said again, poking my head out from our bedroom door and looking down the hall curiously.

More organ notes; he won't answer me unless I practically drag him by the ears off of his piano seat and set him in front of me.

Now there's an amusing thought.

As I contemplated the hilarity of said imagined situation, I walked down the hall of our "modest mansion", as Erik preferred to call it.

It was certainly not modest. Either I really am not used to luxury, or Erik's definition of modest is very loose indeed.

It was a rather large estate located on the outermost boundaries of Paris, with tall walls, high ceilings, and massive columns lining the main entrance halls. It included the standard formal dining room, large kitchen, study, library, master bedroom, and more guest rooms than I knew what to do with. All was run by a small but efficient staff of servants.

Currently, Erik's study-which was where he kept his instruments, including his organ- was just a few doors down from our bedroom. That way, if he had a sudden burst of inspiration while happening to be in our bedroom (and there's been many instances in which he suddenly removed himself from my presence to go write whatever struck him in the middle of our.. ah, rendezvous') he could be at his organ in seconds.

Or so he said.

Anyhow, I sighed as I pulled my husband's black dressing robe over my nightgown, entering his study. It was decorated much like his lair under the Opera Garnier, but of course it wasn't ridiculously cold and was larger. It was also not as tidy, with music sheets scattered everywhere and candle wax from the huge candles giving off light on large candelabras from around the room dripping on the floor. It was a nice room, one that I could stay in for hours on end and never get bored.

I walked up behind him and put my hand on his shoulder. He ignored my touch and continued to play a few measures, then write said composition on a piece of parchment set in front of him.

I frowned at the lack of attention he gave me-usually he was much more receptive of my presence-and wrapped my arms around his neck lightly.

"Come to bed, darling," I murmured into his ear softly.

"Later," came his curt reply. He crossed out a few measures in frustration and replayed said measures, modifying the melody until he was satisfied.

I rolled my eyes.

"Don't act like this," I said, my teeth grazing his ear.

Erik stiffened, "later, Christine." He returned his hands to the keys of his organ, his fingers caressing the white and black keys and coaxing the sound out of the beautiful instrument. I still marveled how he could create such beautiful music, and effortlessly to boot.

I also marveled that this man was mine, and mine alone.

I pouted and let go of his neck.

I started to walk away, but an idea struck me.

Grinning, I moved around him and straddled his lap, kissing along his jaw and the corners of his lips.

Erik continued to ignore me, although a muscle within his jaw tightened slightly. I smirked; it won't be long now.

"Come to bed," I said again, much more firmly. I kissed him softly and nuzzled his neck, breathing in his scent.

To this day, I can't describe his scent. The closest I can relate it to is candle wax, ink, and roses that he was so fond of giving me.

He growled in annoyance and glared at me, his amber eyes flashing with both desire and extreme irritation at my interrupting his composing.

I giggled in response and bit softly on his pulse point on his neck. That was his sensitive area.

I could feel his body harden in response to my ministrations, making me smirk in triumph. "Please," I whispered, dipping my tongue lightly into his ear.

Erik tried to mask it, but I could feel him shudder slightly. He looked at me, his white mask glinting from the candlelight.

"How can I possibly complete your new aria when you are distracting me in such a manner?" He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

It proved to be difficult, because, well, I was in his way. So instead, he rested his hands on the keys of the organ behind me.

"You can't," I said cheerfully, standing and beginning to massage his shoulders. "Don't be such a grouch, mon amour."

"Who are you calling a grouch?" He protested, relaxing under my touch almost immediately. It made me smile.

"Now... Bedtime," I said, pulling on his arm impatiently.

Erik chuckled in amusement at my eagerness and patted my hand that was grasping his wrist. "Of course my dear..."

I grinned. Victory was surely mine tonight!

"...Once I finish your aria."

I pouted and complained, "why?"

"Impatience shall get you nowhere, darling," he said with an impish grin.

"Fine." I removed my hand and stalked into our bedroom, shutting the door and clicking the lock into place.

As I fell asleep, I could hear Erik's laughter ringing throughout the manor at my anger with him.

Well, the next thing I knew was that a very familiar hand was caressing my exposed leg. The lock obviously did not work.

Of course it didn't; my husband is the Phantom of the Opera.

"Come here," my husband murmured.

Still quite annoyed with him, I turned over to the opposite side and crossed my arms over my chest. "No."

Erik just laughed softly and pulled me by my waist over to him.

Knowing that resisting him was futile, I just clenched my jaw in defiance and ignored his touch.

"Don't act this way, my love," he said, kissing my neck.

I frowned. I refused to give into him. That meant he would win, and that was not an option.

"You were incredibly rude earlier. I believe I can act this way and deserve it," I grumbled.

He chuckled-my, his laughter got on my nerves sometimes-and nuzzled my neck. "My little Prima Donna. Tu est trรจs mignonne."

"Flattery shall get you nowhere," I said with a pointed look at him. His mask was off, thank goodness. How I hated that wretched thing.

Erik raised an eyebrow at me, his eyes glittering mischievously. "Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

He sat up and slid a finger under my chin and tilted my head up until my eyes-reluctantly-met his.

"Christine Mulheim, you are the most exquisite, beautiful, magnificent creature to walk this Earth. Your beauty outshines the sun, moon, and stars combined. I have loved you ever since my eyes laid on you. You are intelligent, stunning, incredibly strong, infinitely brave, and I am humbled and honored every day that you are my wife. You are an angel, mon amour," Erik said, smirking arrogantly. He knew that such compliments would be my undoing.

I giggled. "You're getting warmer."

His smirk grew wider. "Fishing for compliments, sweeting?"

"Perhaps. Is it working?"

He looked at me thoughtfully, caressing my cheek. "Someone is feeling very cavalier tonight."

I feigned an injured look. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing?"

Erik smiled. "I humbly ask for your forgiveness, my love. A thousand apologies." He exaggerated a bow to tease me.

Giggling, I poked his chest playfully. "You're forgiven."

"Wonderful." He promptly climbed over my body and straddled my waist. "Now, where were we?"

"You devious man," I laughed. "You deliberately distract me so that you can have your way with me. And you call yourself a gentleman."

"Oh, my darling, I am a gentleman," Erik said with a cheeky grin. "Just not now."

And with that, he chuckled and bent down to kiss me.

So, how was it? Good? Bad? Lol I just thought of this while bored and was like, what the heck, why not write it? Again, I apologize if the characters are OOC, but I think it's cute. I would like to think that this Erik is based off of the Charles Dance Phantom in the 1990 adaption of The Phantom of the Opera (if you haven't seen that, go on YouTube and find it. It's fabulous). Also, a great book recommendation that's a continuation of The Phantom of the Opera. But it'd only interest those who just plain hate Christine (I have a love/hate relationship with her. In some adaptions I like her, in others I severely dislike her). It's called The Sultan's Favorite, and seriously, it's great. It's on the risque side (lots of graphic content, with language, violence, and sexual stuff), but an amazing read. The Erik in that book had me laugh out loud on more than one occasion. But yeah, check it out. It's amazing.

~Vaderlicious