a phantom of the opera imagine of erik jealous when he saw his s/o witha 'hickie' on he shoulder when it was actually a bruise from an accident during practice (nsfw?)
The Phantom’s yellow eyes narrowed dangerously as he spotted a suspicious bruise on your shoulder. The shirt that you wore exposed that particular shoulder, and you cursed your luck.
“What is that?” He advanced slowly, his finger pointed accusatorily at you, a vicious undertone in his voice that made you shiver.
It was times like this that reminded you of what your beloved s/o was capable of.
“It’s a bruise from training today. I slipped and fell into one of the columns.”
“Is that so.” His eyes gleamed, making it obvious that he hadn’t just asked you a question but that the toxicity of his mind was as strong as it ever was; he didn’t believe you.
You suppressed a sign, knowing all too well the danger of losing your temper around him. You had to be patient.
“Yes. I tripped, and I got bruised. It happens.” You smiled weakly, something you immediately realised was a mistake. He now thought that you were mocking him.
He was in front of you now, towering over you naturally. You forced yourself to hold your ground; stepping back even a little would only serve to further enrage him, and then he’d forever question your every word and action.
“You expect me believe that this,” he touched the bruise gently, though you knew that if you were anyone else, he would have jabbed it, “Is a mere bruise from injury and not from some other activity?”
“Yes. I haven’t betrayed you.”
A sound echoed around the cave into which he’d built his only home, and it sounded like a growl.
An arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you into him, his bony hips digging painfully into your more rounded ones.
“You belong to me.” The Phantom hissed what you already knew to be true in your ear, and his hot breath fanned your skin as he held you to him, his attraction for you poking rather obviously against your stomach.
“Yes.” Your head was swimming now, waves of arousal coursing your system and making you vulnerable to his every word, his every move.
Try as you might, you were a slave to the music, his music, and as he stripped you of your clothes and you stripped him of his, the two of you made your own music as you danced to a rhythm as old as time.