Chapter Text
The phantom liked to be the one with the upper hand. He liked to take advantage of others while displaying his enjoyment in the most reckless, bloodiest sort of sports. How the voices of his tormenters would turn from twisted jeering to ghastly screaming, how victim would turn to victor! The thrill of rising above his enemies had gripped his aching heart in a powerful charm long, long ago. As far as he could remember, that feeling of a thrill had always been with him--almost as far back as he could remember the pain. The pain. It has been great indeed for a child to bear. But what of it? The phantom smirked to himself. Was he not a man now? Those sensations of fear and pain that had been sharper than the stones thrown at him in the streets were now behind him. He had strangled them with his noose a long time ago, along with his other helpless prey. Had he not risen high? Was he not master of the Paris Opera House? And not just a man, but a ghost! That sickening sense of manipulative and harsh triumph he'd first tasted during his opera years, had by now dulled into a simple pride. Singing, composing, hiding, and threatening was now a tamed business of his everyday life, killing included when necessary.
The phantom let his cloak swirl elegantly as he paced the floor, then stopped. Even in his most secretive of musings, there was one subject he never dwelt on. Even in the darkest caverns of his very innermost thoughts, he never admitted there was one thing (and damn it, too! ) he could not control. Oh, it felt vile not to be able to just crush it to pieces. The man clenched his jaw in a tight line--for he felt the intrusion before he knew it. Stilling his movements to a complete stand-still, the masked man didn't even bother to turn around.
"...De Chagny."
"Erik."
Light footsteps carried across the carpet of the house on the lake. The familiar scent of an expensive coat and cold air wafted from behind as the boy advanced. He always smelled like that when he came to visit the phantom. Even when summer-time draped itself upon the outside world, it was always cold around the underground house by the lake. So cold. Sometimes, Erik cared to wonder why. The viscount was now standing a little way from the phantom, next to a wooden chair. A rustling noise issued as he took his coat off and carelessly slung it over an armrest. Then, in a voice that seemed too loud in the ominous silence, he spoke.
"I see you know me by my footsteps, now. How charming, to be known so thoroughly."
The phantom stirred, irritated.
"I care nothing for your steps, De Chagny. The mere scent of your coat is enough to give yourself away."
"Ah, so you know even the smell of my clothes? The intimacy is extraordinary here."
The boy smirked as the phantom remained silent. He knew how to make a man squirm. And he knew that Erik was uncomfortable around his presence. Perhaps...
"Perhaps the memory of my previous visits... haunts you still?"
Moving closer, the vicomte lowered his voice as he murmured into the man's ear. Low. Seductive. Erik had to repress a shiver as Raoul's voice vibrated against the air. It forced him to remember things, things he relived through and through with regret. The soiled bed-sheets, the rough breathing, the struggle, the guilt, and--'the pleasure...'
Forbidden thoughts echoed in his head. Things were getting dangerous.
Turning around completely, he hissed into the other's face.
"It matters little what you have done to me in the past, De Chagny."
Drawing himself to his full height however, did not daunt the viscount. Instead, the smirk on the boy's pink lips grew wider.
"So you call last month the past..?" He whispered, fingers playing around the corner of the phantom's cloak. He drew them aside, just a little, to reveal the back of Erik's black slacks.
"You must have wondered--don't pretend you haven't--at least once why I didn't come down to see you. I, who used to come down to... entertain you every once a week."
Raoul watched the masked man's uncovered side of his face in amusement as Erik nearly blushed at the word. The man was certainly beautiful, at least his unmasked part. The other half's features were impossible to make out because of the china mask stubbornly clamped in place. How he longed to rip the thing off!
Curling his hands into fists, Raoul seized the man's shirt collar and pulled him down to his own height. Too close, Erik warned himself. Their faces were now inches apart, the boy's nose almost touching his own. In this position where the phantom was the one stooping down, he could see Raoul's every little emotion flickering across his face.
Not letting go of his clothes, the vicomte murmured in an undertone.
"You found yourself another entertainer..."
Then, it all became clear to the phantom what this was all about.
"Christine Daae."
The name was spoken in absolute contempt, which alarmed Erik. Those pretty--he quickly changed his thoughts--those girlish lips of the boy were not smirking now. No, instead, they were pressed into a tight line, as if Raoul was harshly biting the inside of his bottom lip.
"You were having such a good time with that little soprano, weren't you? You looked up to her as a goddess."
"And I still do," the phantom replied softly. Raoul cocked his head to one side.
"I don't understand."
His eyes were big, doe-like and brown. With an inward start, Erik realized the man's eyes were always the same. When he was smirking, when he was hissing, when his voice conveyed nothing but contempt, still his eyes held something softer. When he was looking at the phantom, the cores of his eyes were always like that--mellow. Well, tonight there was something different. Erik narrowed his eyes, trying to fathom what it was. He let his gaze roam about the viscount's face, noting the slight flush of color that appeared as Raoul became consious of what he was doing. Lifting his chin a little higher, the boy pressed the man for an answer.
"Well? What do you see in her?"
Erik replied coolly.
"Humanity."
The boy snorted.
"Why, am I not human?"
"She pities me, De Chagny. She sympathizes. She thinks of my pains. She...is pure."
Erik emphasized the last word with a glare as Raoul nearly doubled over in laughter. Shaking his head, the youth looked up with the tears in his eyes. His long lashes hooded the softness of his gaze, but Erik could see the abrupt change of emotion--the boy's brown orbs had darkened a shade with lust.
"So you are in pain?"
He asked huskily. A breeze of a smile ghosted around his mouth. Raoul leaned in. His forehead grazed against Erik's.
"But you don't want sympathy. You are tired of being pitied. You long for more..."
Deftly, his fingers tore at the phantom's drawstrings and let the cloak fall to the floor. Erik knew. He knew this was the time to move away, when the boy's hands were momentarily away from him. But before he could take a step back, Raoul grabbed the shirt of the taller man and pulled himself into a crushing kiss.
The moment their lips made contact, he couldn't think straight. Raoul's mouth moved fiercely against his, hungry and possessive. It was as if he was trying to imprint the very lines of his lips onto his skin. Skimming a burning line across Erik's mouth with his teeth, Raoul breathed out alluring temptation.
"You want more, Erik... You long for another's flesh..."
"Not yours!" Erik gasped, trying to get around the kiss but failing as he felt Raoul's tongue sucking at his bottom lip. He was demanding for entrance, slick saliva threatening to dribble down his chin. But not without resistance.
Grasping hold of the viscount's shoulders, Erik wrenched his face away from the other's and pushed hard, pinning Raoul brutally to the wall. The viscount didn't miss a second of all this. He could see Erik's eyes were wide open with ill-disguised excitement, his usually pale lips crimson with unshed blood boiling under his skin. He was breathing hard, cheeks flushed, body slightly trembling. Yes, try as he might, the phantom could not hide what his body had thirsted for during the last month of Raoul's absence. Erik's mind was desperately screaming for escape from this mess, but his limbs just weren't listening.
That was why he didn't resist the second time the boy tried to push inside. Still pinned to the wall by the shoulder, Raoul craned his neck to reach Erick once more. The man hesitated, but the facade lasted only a mere moment.
As soon as he parted his lips to submission, a hot tongue eagerly slid onto his own. Raoul's pink muscle was slick and nimble, thirstily trailing alongside the inside of Erik's gum and playing with the other's tongue over and over again with a fervor he had no wish to control. Pushing himself off the wall, Raoul took a step forward, the phantom, a dazed backward. But their legs were weak, shaking and numb with desire. They never made it to the sofa before they tripped, falling to the carpet with a dull thump. Erik's senses were overwhelmed, heated by lust and a want he badly needed to satisfy. The man found himself panting breathlessly. He heard Raoul chuckling above him.
"Your eyes are so wild, Erik."
"Shut up, De Chagny..."
"Raoul. I told you to call me Raoul."
With that, a hand slipped inside Erik's shirt and began to travel up the man's pale chest. His skin was cool to Raoul's heated fingers, but the viscount promised himself that would change.
They needed relieving.
Both of them.
In a haze, he unfastened the buttons holding the phantom's shirt together and peeled it off his body. It was a splendid sight. Erik's usually sleek and flat hair was disheveled. His pale chest and stomach were exposed and sprawled across the floor, making a gentle contrast against the burgundy-red carpet. His chest, rising and falling in a heavy rhythm with every breath he took...
Erik's breath hitched as the blond started to tease his nipples. Raoul knew, through experience, how particularly sensitive that spot was. They got taut easily, if he just pinched one, right there... Erik gasped softly. He hadn't felt that for a long time. Covering his mouth with the back of his hand, Erik stifled another moan as he felt Raoul's thumb and forefinger pinch the spot gently, then rubbing circles into his breast. A steady blush rose from the naked chest to his fevered cheeks. The phantom--looking less and less like the fabled ghost by the minute--had to bite down on his hand to keep his lewd noises to himself. Nonetheless, the little grunts that bubbled at the back of his throat could not be silenced for long.
Raoul ducked his head and licked a hardened nipple. The tip of his wet tongue twisted around the head, causing the dark-hair a full arousal. Erik felt unbearable tingling sensations spreading across his spine and lower regions, tightening the place between his legs. When the viscount cupped an entire section in his mouth and began to suck, the man finally lost it. Erik's torso bent upward as he released a drawn sigh, the room resounding with moans he couldn't hold back any longer. The hot breath that warmed his stomach into rosiness was too much--damp and sweet, that was what it was. Every time Raoul's soft lips brushed a weak point, the phantom's airway caught itself in a gasp.
When this had gone on long enough, Raoul judged it was time to proceed further. Erik's bulge was plain for all to see, shy yet unrestrainedly pushing against the confining fabric.
Besides, he didn't think he could wait much longer either. Raoul propped himself on his knees and used both hands to undo Erik's belt. The buckle clinked loudly as he tossed it aside to the wall. When he turned to unbuckle his own, he was surprised to find it already loose and limp. His eyes met Erik's green orbs and realized the man had undone it for him.
Something other than raw lust pooled within Raoul. But he had not the time to linger on it just now. Swallowing the sudden emotion, he straddled the flushed phantom and recovered his cheeky voice again.
"You certainly got hard there."
A husky growl was his answer. The phantom's brow was clouded with want, an expression Raoul had never seen on him before. The man must have missed his presence more than he'd liked to admit. The thought made the viscount smile. Erik noticed this.
"What is it?" He asked, self-conscious. Even though he was responding to the young man more freely than ever tonight, he was still embarrassed at what they were doing. He wondered what state he was in right now, how he looked in the boy's eyes. Then he remembered he didn't care what that Chagny brat thought of him. He should be worrying more about Christine, his angel and his muse.
Raoul's caressing hands went lower and lower. From the nape of his neck past the abdomen to his pelvis, those knowing fingers continued to descend...until they reached his manhood. But he did not touch Erik. Instead, he pulled himself up and ground down his hips against Erik's, hard.
"Oh!"
The contact provoked a sharp intake of breath, as Erik stuttered out an exclamation. God, he was so human, Raoul thought. Once, twice, three times Raoul rubbed himself against the man before both of their under-garments could slide down completely, exposing their erection to each other. Although it was not the first time that Erik saw the boy's penis, the man could never get used to it. The way those darkened eyes gazed on his nakedness... the frank hunger.
A chilling thrill developed along Erik's spine. Raoul had closed a firm fist around the man's erection and was now sliding his hand along it slowly, smoothly. The flesh-to-flesh friction threw Erik into abandon, and he moaned into the viscount's mouth as they wrestled with their tongues for dominance.
"Raoul..."
Raoul's heart twinged when he heard Erik pant out his name. His hand moved faster, his other hand stroking Erik's inner thigh.
"Oh..." Close, he was so close. He could never endure it for long, he was so sensitive. Reaching his climax, Erik bucked his hips and thrust into Raoul before coming.
"Ngh..!"
An exalted moan broke out as pearly streaks of sperm spilled out onto the vicomte's fingers. A few drops fell and dotted the carpet beneath them.
For a moment they were silent. Only the sound of Erik's ragged breathing was heard. Raoul waited for him to catch his breath and looked upon the man's form, lean and strong. The phantom's usually colorless pallor was now lit up from the high he was experiencing, reddened and radiating. The sight reminded the boy of his own needs more than ever.
When Erik seemed to calm a little, Raoul unstraddled him and rolled onto the ground. He lay on his back, golden locks spreading from his temple and collar tugged down. He'd just recalled he wasn't completely nude. A flimsy blouse still veiled his upper parts, but it only managed to magnify the nakedness of his legs.
Glancing next to him, he motioned for Erik to come closer.
"It's about time I got my turn, don't you think so?"
He asked, straying a hand down suggestively. Erik gulped. He always approached this inevitable part with dreaded fascination. The prospect of having to copy what the vicomte had done to him had always got him nervous. He would always keep his eyes lowered to the young man's private region, secretly and carefully studying how Roaul twitched and pulsated under his touch. Yet he had never seen his face during that time of pleasure.
Erik knelt on top of Raoul, reluctantly parting his thighs so he might straddle him. Then he gingerly wrapped his hand around the boy's cock, making sure he wasn't doing anything stupid. Raoul tried to flash him a reassuring look, but he couldn't guess if he'd managed to convey anything but burning lust. That was the only thing he could feel right now.
The phantom started to move his fingers. At first he was timid and uncertain of his own hands, it was such a long time since their last section. Was the viscount feeling the same excitement he had felt? One keening sigh was enough to confirm the truth.
"E, Erik..." Raoul breathed. He wound his arms around the dark-hair's neck and pulled him closer. Erik had no choice but to look into Raoul's face directly. His heart gave an unexpected jump when he saw him. Raoul's highlighted cheeks were pink, his lips parted and his eyes closed in an incredibly erotic expression. Stray strands of blond hair fell across his forehead. The sounds he made burned at Erik's ears, high-pitched moans that steadily turned to an outbursting cry as he hit his peak. Well-built and slender, Raoul's back arched into Erik when he came.
"Ah...!"
* * * * *
It was two in the morning when they got dressed.
30 minutes to three when Raoul was ready to leave.
At the bottom of the stairway, the way leading back to the living world, he turned around for a moment. It was as if he wanted to say something.
"Erik, I..."
But his words were left hanging. Instead, he nodded a silent farewell to the opera ghost and turned away.
Then he was gone.