disclaimer: I don't own any part of Phantom of the Opera, except this story.

Little Sultina's note: Though not for the completely fluffy hearted, this four-shot explores Erik's darker side, as he offers Christine her freedom as long as she consents to be his living bride in every sense of the meaning for one night... Leroux based. Enjoy, and please review!

Be My Living Bride - Part the First

Erik's POV

She is standing there in front of me, her long blonde hair is flowing down her back; kissing her bare shoulders and the tops of her creamy breasts; exposed by the low cut of her dress. She is still crying, crying with despair. She despairs because she knows that there is no way out, she is trapped in my underground home; her lover and the Persian safely looked away in the torture chamber.

Although I will try and pretend to Christine that love her, I know that in my heart I don't. I did once, but she has betrayed me too many times now from my love to burn for her. The only feeling that burns in my body for her is lust. Fiery, all consuming lust that pushes me to the boundaries of sanity and beyond.

I am many things. I mad man, some say. A criminal according to others. A disgusting corpse they all agree. There once was a time when words like those would bother me, anger me, maybe even upset me. But such a time has indeed passed, and after all that has been said about me, I am beyond caring.

I could be a gentle, kind, caring man that entreated every aspect of his wife's happiness, that made her feel like a queen of many lands. I would have been prepared to do anything for Christine, had she consented to be my own. I would have given up all that is dear to me for her sake, and asked for no more than a soft, loving kiss and a friendly smile in return. I wouldn't have even requested her to lie with me, for no woman could possibly do such a thing as that.

I would have forgiven all of Christine's previous sins and been her eternally faithful dog, forever waiting at her feet. But I am growing older now, and I do not have forever to wait for her; my clock is running down and it is time for me to reap some sort of benefit from all the years that I have spent on Earth.

I loved her so very much, and planned to make her return my feeling naturally; until two nights past as I crept by the dressing room. I loved to sneak in there, in the dead of night to gaze over her sleeping body and place a soft kiss on her hand, or maybe even her forehead. But this night, as I crept in I saw something different from usual; she was indeed asleep, but their was another figure by her side. The Viscompte.

He lay with his back towards the wall, his entire body protruding naked from the sheets; his hands wrapped around what I decided was my angel's waist, for I could not bare to think of them being any lower. Next to him lay Christine, her head turned towards him, her upper torso completely uncovered in all it's splendour.

I observed the two in a twisted form of morbid fascination, paying particular attention to Christine's breasts. They looked so very soft, their tips a rosy red and stiff in appearance. I felt tears of frustration mingling in my socket's, I had never allowed myself to even dream of Christine in such a way, for I deemed her to be of angelic purity. Yet, she had given herself to that boy, to whom she was barely engaged. She had allowed him to run his rancid hands over her body, over her curves and around her most intimate places; whilst I denied myself so much as the touch of her hand.

My endless patience had run out, I no longer loved this little whore, who gave herself as freely as possible. I loathed her, but I lusted for her more than I thought man could. I needed her, I wanted her. My body stirred for her, and I knew that I had to make her mine in the most physical sense of the word.

They say necessity breeds invention; and I suppose one could say that this was indeed the case.

Christine's POV

I am shaking, though I can not tell whether it is cold or fear that causes me as I am surrounded by so much of both. I recognised my territory from the moment I awoke from the drugged sleep what I am quite sure Erik put me in steal me off stage and drag me down here. It was, of course his house; five storeys beneath the Opera House, closer to hell than anywhere else in the world. I believe that I am in the drawing room, though it is much changed from when I saw it last. The flowers that once filled it are quite gone, and all that it left are a few pieces of antique furniture and a deathly silence.

Where is he? Where is Erik? Why has he left me here, dumped so very ungraciously in the corner? Has he abandoned me here? That is how it seems, for the fire is unlit and all the light I have comes from one small candle on the mantelpiece.

My head feels dizzy and clouded, (probably a sign that the drugs are wearing off), and I can't help noticing a large bruise on my wrist, which I could swear was not there during the performance. Surely Erik could not have imprinted it upon me? He has sworn to love me in the most tragic but true way possible. He sworn that no harm would come of me, so long as I remained loyal to him. Which, to his knowledge I have done perfectly well.

I tried to finish my relationship with the Raoul, but after hearing that he was to leave for the Artic in only a month's time, I decided to maintain it until the date of his departure. Oh and what fun we had together! We played at being engaged, up in the rafters of the opera house, laughing and giggling like children. We would see shows and take walks around the city, dine out and in the evenings I would be walked back to my dressing room.

Oh it was all such fun, and two day ago our budding romance climaxed in a passionate explosion of love. But whilst I lay beside my lover, our bodies weary from the pleasure they'd received, I was fearful that Erik would see. For I knew that he was a deeply unbalanced man, and the sight of me and Raoul would be sure to send him into an uncontrollable rage, and who could know what would follow?

The door is opening, there are stamping footsteps on the ground, there is a glimmer of light, a shape, a voice. The voice? Can it be? I'm certain that it can't. The voice was always calm and soothing, this voice in angry and harsh. It spits cruel words at me and I realise that this is indeed the voice, it's Erik's voice.

Bony hands, that smell like death and feel even worse are grabbing my hips; causing me to scream. A morbid hand flies to my lips, trapping my cries, and the arms quite literally drag me out of the room. I am in the dining room now, now the corridor, and now a room I have seen only once before. Erik's bedroom.

It is a terribly grand room, fitted like a tomb. In fact, Erik used to address the place with such a title. My tomb he used to say, pointing to the coffin placed in the centre of the room and then giving a broader gesture with his hands. But now Erik is saying nothing.

He releases his hand from my mouth, and removes his arms from my waist, shoving me roughly to the floor. He is lighting a candle, and another, and another; now the whole room is illuminated. Erik's body jerks around and stares straight at me, a menacing look on his monstrous face. His eyes are ablaze with fury and my heart is filled with fear. His hands grasp my own and they yank me upwards until I am standing upright.

Erik has never been so rough with me, he has always been so gentle and respectfully distant. He is now pacing up and down the room, his teeth clenched and his hands are rolled into tight fists. My heart beat grows faster and at last I find the strength to speak, and I ask him why I am here.

Erik has stopped quite still, and now he is approaching me, a smug smile on his face.

"Ah yes my little love," he sayings in a disgusting manner, his hands stroking my cheek.

"You see my darling, I am your Angel of Music, and you will always belong to me. Always." He hisses, causing me to cry out with fright.

He chuckles a terrible laugh and wraps his arms around my waist. He is so very close to me, I can feel his deathly cold breath on my neck.

"You may have given your body to that bastard but you will always be mine." He snarls, one hand running over my thankfully covered leg.

Fear is gripping me now that I can better understand his intentions. I want to run, but his embrace is too tight. He is everywhere, his hand on my leg, his arms on my hips, his breath in my face. The room is spinning and I want Raoul. I'm calling out his name as loudly as I can and Erik is laughing in the most unimaginably terrifying way.

"Oh cry for him now my dear, it will do you no good. He can not save you! He is here you see, in my torture chamber!…I don't think I've told you about that… I know I'll show you it." With that he throws me over his shoulder and carries me up a small staircase, to window. He is tracing my bare ankles with his thumb and he is dropping me on my feet and forcing me to look through the window.

I am looking through the window and can see my dear sweet Raoul, and a strangely tanned man whom I do not recognise. They are lying on the floor, their eyes glazed and their bodies motionless. He has killed them, that I am sure of, they are dead. Dead!

I'm screaming at Erik, yelling 'murderer' over and over, whilst Erik is chuckling.

"Yes my little love, a murderer I am; but these two excuses for men are not dead. They are merely… dehydrated and … mentally dishevelled…. but that will pass… I hope. For you see I am quite prepared to release the two of them….even your lover… I'll return you both home and I will stay away from you forever."

He has stopped talking and my heart is pumping so fast I fear it might burst, I have never known such terror. Despite the fear that he instils in me, I am inclined to believe the monster that is standing before me; all I want to know in that which I can see he is preparing to say.

"However, I am also quite prepared to murder the both of them. I will strangle them… or maybe shoot them if you prefer… I will destroy their corpses and leave you either to join them or make your own may home… through the maze of traps I have laid in these cellars. Is that quite clear?"

I seem to be nodding in understanding. I do not know how to respond to his twisted options, for he states them so blandly that my mind can not comprehend the full gravity of his words.

"It's your choice." He is saying.

"If they die, or if they go home. Their fate, and indeed yours is in your choice. One word: yes or no…. You see I have a preposition for you… one night… just for one night you are to become my wife … and you must fulfil every single wifely duty that I demand of you… Yes, and you stay with me for one night… then you, the Persian, and him will go home…. No, and they will both be slaughtered… and you… well I've already said that…"

He is silent now, and I have finally understood what he has said. I am either to be slave to his sexual desires; or I am to have my darling Raoul killed, along with that poor man. Erik may not even let me go… but if I sleep with him there is still no guarantee of Erik keeping his promise.

Erik is coming towards me, and his hand is travelling up my leg, under my skirt, It is going higher and higher, but now it has thankfully stopped on my thigh. He is smiling at me, and squeezing my flesh sending waves of unwanted impulses through my shaking body.

"I will wait in my bedroom, and you may have five minutes to consider your choice. If your answer is no… then remain where you are and watch your lover die… if you answer is yes… then you shall come to my bedroom, and take more than a few minutes in doing so….is that clear."

I am nodding my head. Erik is unimaginably clear.