Slave of Passion
Disclaimer: Do not own, yadda yadda yadda. If I did own, Erik and Raoul would get their own book and Christine would be nowhere in sight. *cackle*
Erik was not amused. That viscount was in his box, and how dare he suggest he wanted to meet him! Nobody ever had the courage to even think about the possibility, and he had to admire his bravery. But honestly, why would he ever want to meet the Phantom of the Opera face to face? Did he really want to risk his life like he did?
Alas, he had finally met the Vicomte de Changy! Now he could match the words to face, though he didn't quite understand what Christine was so happy about. Though. Erik's eyes narrowed into thin slits as he watched the ending piece of the opera before intermission began. There was something charming about that young man. He was handsome, yes, and he had a nice build, he could feel it through his clothes. Erik couldn't quite put his finger on it. Surely, it would come to him.
As the applause drifted through the opera house, Erik rose from his seat and slipped from Box Five, leaving behind a gold coin on the seat of his chair. He walked briskly down the hallway and rounded the corner, down a staircase and flipping a hidden switch at the wall at the base of the stairs to wander through the passageway that lead to Christine's dressing room. Once he came upon the mirror, he waited patiently for her arrival, meanwhile thinking over his predicament.
What if this Raoul character wanted to challenge him? Let him! He will be dead quicker than he can think of what a fool he had been. He hadn't killed a man in some time, and it would feel good to wrap his Punjab lasso around his pretty neck. Or release him into his torture chamber. He hasn't had a victim in a torture chamber since the khanum in Persia, and that was for her pleasure. The invasion in was worthy enough for a mind game in his mirror chamber.
Finally, Christine entered her dressing room and filled a glass with water, sipping carefully. Erik remained silent until she had enough and sat down, turning to the mirror and fixed her hair, and, placing her hands in her lap, addressed her angel. "Angel. Angel, are you there?"
"I am here, my dear." Erik cleared his mind and tuned himself in to his student.
"I sang for you tonight, Angel. I know there's still a second half to finish, but did you hear me? I sang with my heart, like you told me to. Did you hear them applaud? I thought Carlotta had come onto the stage!"
Erik smiled softly. "Yes, child. Your voice has matured and grown to be the finest of all divas. You have surpassed Carlotta, Christine. You proved yourself to the managers tonight. Proved yourself to me. I am very proud of you."
Christine smiled and reached out towards the mirror. "Thank you, Angel. I will sing just as I did for the second half of the performance."
"You will sing better," Erik corrected, lightening the mirror to show his faint image. "You will sing with more beauty and passion, Christine. Remember, you are the lead tonight. Not a chorus girl."
"Yes, Angel." Christine looked wistfully up at his shadowed face and leaned back against the chair, sighing. Erik smiled.
"Rest your voice, Christine. I will be watching you."
"Yes, Angel." She sounded so mechanical, but she looked forlorn and tired. Returning the mirror to its usual state, Erik deftly made his way back to Box Five, stopping to listen to the ballet dancers gossip and giggle for a moment, before sliding back into the open and making his way up the stairs. Few people ceased their conversations to stare at the passing masked man as he disappeared into Box Five.
There, he was shocked to find Raoul sitting in a chair, leaning against the banister and looking out at the orchestra seats below. Erik drew his sword silently from its scabbard and pressed the tip of the weapon against the man's hip. "Just *what* do you think you are doing here," Erik hissed, poking him roughly. Raoul flinched and turned around, smirking.
"I thought our first meeting was much too abrupt."
"So you dare to return and risk your life a second time to speak with me? What a mind you have, Vicomte. I daresay I admire your strength, but I have no business with you."
"No, you don't. It is I who have business with you."
Erik scowled and drew his sword back. "Then speak quickly. I'm getting tired of your games."
Raoul stood and leaned back against the banister, arms crossed over his chest. He examined his nails and then glanced up at Erik's mask, at his yellow eyes and thin lips. He truly didn't have any business with the Phantom. It was just an excuse to hear his voice again.
"Hurry, Raoul. I'm not in any mood to play."
"My, aren't we impatient." As his mind raced, Raoul couldn't help but stare into Erik's eyes. If it made the Phantom uncomfortable, he didn't show it. Then, without thinking, his lips moved and his mind spoke for him. "Your eyes. They're beautiful."
Erik's lips pursed into a thin line. "You came here to tell me *that*? Don't you have better things to do?"
Raoul blinked and swallowed nervously. "I didn't mean to say that."
"And you did. Well, congratulations, Raoul. You've made a fool out of yourself."
"Indeed, I have." The Vicomte sighed. "Forgive me, Phantom. I was not thinking."
"Apparently." Erik smirked and sheathed his sword. "Now, are you going to leave? I'd like to spend the rest of the evening in peace, if you'd please."
"No." His answer surprised even himself, and Raoul held Erik's gaze steady, noticing his glare. "I thought, perhaps, I could sit with you tonight. Philippe's courting a young lady, and would probably rather share my seat with her."
Erik clicked his tongue. "Oh, my poor Raoul. How unfortunate. But, no. I'm sure there are more seats in your box."
Raoul found himself looking at Erik's lips and he swallowed again. His voice was wafting into his ears and drifting down his body to his groin. Hopefully, Erik wouldn't notice. Clearing his throat, Raoul gripped the velvet banister and raised a hand to slick his hair back. "But surely you get lonely up here, Phantom. Just this once, and then I'll never come around again. How about it?"
Erik was silent for a minute, his thoughts bubbling. Raoul's voice was thick with lust, he could hear it, as much as he was trying to mask it. Did he really think he could hide it from him? His lips broke into a smirk. "Are you making an advance, Raoul?"
The other man was startled. Was he that obvious? Raoul was dimly aware of the lights lowering around him and the voices silencing, the orchestra starting up as Erik remained standing and calm, the smirk existent on his face. He racked his mind for a reasonable defense, not noticing as Erik took as seat and leaned back against the chair. It was his voice that awoke him from his thoughts.
"Come, Raoul. Sit next to me. It would be impolite to stand there and talk to me during the performance."
"Yes, of course," Raoul mumbled, quickly taking a seat beside Erik. During the entire second half, Raoul continued to glance next to him at the Phantom, though Erik's attentions were directed at the stage. He had completed his task. Somehow, he felt he had broken Erik's barrier after he had realized and heard the lust in his voice. He had been successful.
Erik took this time to ponder the man's problem. He was most obviously lusting after him, even after just meeting him. How could that be, even so? They didn't know each other, barely, but he Raoul did say that his eyes were beautiful. Erik scowled to himself. Beautiful? Perhaps in some other world. Whatever gave Raoul that idea?
Against his better judgment, Erik glanced down at Raoul's lap where his hands sat. Indeed, he was aroused. He was hiding it well, but he was uncomfortable. Poor fool. Erik laughed quietly to himself and patted Raoul's hand, leaning in close to his ear. "No need to be ashamed, my friend. I see no fault in being. bothered."
Raoul hissed and turned his head to look at him sharply. "Stop toying with my brain, Phantom. I did not come here to be ridiculed and mocked."
Erik smiled and removed his hand from over Raoul's. "I meant no harm, Raoul. I just realize you desire me." He smiled and whispered, "Unless, you deny your heart and you refuse my offer."
Raoul blinked hard, drawing back to look at him with surprise. "You're offering yourself to me?"
"Now, I didn't say that," Erik chided, turning his eyes back to the singers. "Think that over, Raoul. I thought you were in love with Christine. Wouldn't you want to be faithful to her?"
Christine. He hadn't thought about her. Raoul frowned and turned his face away. He had just begun to think he was in love with the mysterious Phantom when he had to mention Christine. Now he had two things to think about. His head clouded and Raoul shook it to clear for it to clear, sighing. "I don't know, Phantom."
"Well, if you don't know, you'd better not do anything before you think it over, hm?" Erik smiled. "Christine means a lot to you. Don't do anything stupid, Raoul. Don't lose yourself to a frivolous, passionate thought. She'd be very displeased, and so would you."
"What does it matter to you," Raoul muttered, barely noticing Christine belting out her notes on the stage below. Erik blinked. Why did it matter to him, anyway?
"It doesn't matter to me," he said, sighing. "I'm just saying. You should consider your feelings before doing anything foolish."
Raoul glanced back at Erik and studied him carefully. What he wanted to do *was* foolish, and it would earn him a sword through the gut. But he made him wonder: if he did, what would Erik truly do? He was being so nice to him. perhaps he wouldn't mind.
Just as he was getting ready to make a move, Erik rose from his seat and placed another gold coin on the chair. "Alas, Raoul, I must be leaving. I have things to attend to. If you'll excuse me." Erik smiled and bowed, sliding from the box, leaving Raoul alone and lonesome.
Outside, Erik hurried down the hall and quickly encased himself in a hidden passageway. Once inside, he slid down the wall and closed his hand between his legs, groaning softly. That was it. Raoul was innocent. He was eager, but innocent. Sighing softly, he waited until his arousal faded and he closed his eyes, hearing Christine's voice through the walls. The opera was halfway over. And he was in love.
In love? Preposterous! He hasn't been in love since. since he was in that Gypsy group. That young Gypsy boy he had shared a few sweet kisses and touches with, and that young boy had died after an epidemic in the tribe. Erik sighed again. Raoul was not the one to fall in love with! He was in love with Christine, and they deserved to be together. There was nothing he could do.
Christine would probably be eating with Raoul after the performance, or would be returning home. he, himself, will return home. And he did.
Flopping down onto his bed as soon as he was inside his underground home, Erik was faintly aware of Ayesha meowing and nudging her face against his mask, lying down beside him and purring softly. Erik rolled over onto his back and drew the cat onto his chest, stroking her fur gently and soothingly as he closed his eyes. At first, there was blackness, that eventually grew into the image of Christine. He smiled. Christine was only a chick, and her voice was improving day by day.
The image left to be replaced with. Raoul? Erik opened his eyes and frowned. He had just met he man, and already he was thinking about him? He had gone mad.
Erik gently set Ayesha down and didn't bother to undress. He merely crawled underneath the covers and removed his mask, setting it on his beside table. He closed his eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.
Meanwhile, Raoul had finished watching the opera in silence and risen from his seat and also left a coin behind, walking back to his brother's box. He and Philippe left, once gathering their things, and Raoul endured a prodding and poking talk on the way back home. He didn't wish to have that talk with Christine anymore. He had some serious thinking to do.
Philippe earned no answer from his brother and watched in confusion as Raoul mounted the stairs and declared he was tired and was retiring to bed. Usually he stayed up for a drink or two, and chatted far into the night. Philippe nodded and bid him a good night, shaking his head and pouring himself a drink. Whatever had happened in Box Five had gotten to him.
Raoul collapsed on his bed and kicked off his shoes and socks, groaning and sitting up to slowly undress. He was aroused again, he noted, and he brought himself to quick and easy release in the privacy of his own room, moaning 'Phantom' as he came. He knew him by no other name, and he wished he had asked for his name. Sighing, he tugged on his nightclothes and slipped into bed, sighing again at the comfort the warm sheets offered.
"Phantom. who are you?" Raoul turned over and lay awake for a while before sleep claimed him, those yellow eyes of his cocky friend haunting him. It was soon when Raoul's breathing slowed in the state of sleep, dreaming of nothing but his Phantom of the Opera. Tomorrow was another day.
And tomorrow, he would seek him out again.
Disclaimer: Do not own, yadda yadda yadda. If I did own, Erik and Raoul would get their own book and Christine would be nowhere in sight. *cackle*
Erik was not amused. That viscount was in his box, and how dare he suggest he wanted to meet him! Nobody ever had the courage to even think about the possibility, and he had to admire his bravery. But honestly, why would he ever want to meet the Phantom of the Opera face to face? Did he really want to risk his life like he did?
Alas, he had finally met the Vicomte de Changy! Now he could match the words to face, though he didn't quite understand what Christine was so happy about. Though. Erik's eyes narrowed into thin slits as he watched the ending piece of the opera before intermission began. There was something charming about that young man. He was handsome, yes, and he had a nice build, he could feel it through his clothes. Erik couldn't quite put his finger on it. Surely, it would come to him.
As the applause drifted through the opera house, Erik rose from his seat and slipped from Box Five, leaving behind a gold coin on the seat of his chair. He walked briskly down the hallway and rounded the corner, down a staircase and flipping a hidden switch at the wall at the base of the stairs to wander through the passageway that lead to Christine's dressing room. Once he came upon the mirror, he waited patiently for her arrival, meanwhile thinking over his predicament.
What if this Raoul character wanted to challenge him? Let him! He will be dead quicker than he can think of what a fool he had been. He hadn't killed a man in some time, and it would feel good to wrap his Punjab lasso around his pretty neck. Or release him into his torture chamber. He hasn't had a victim in a torture chamber since the khanum in Persia, and that was for her pleasure. The invasion in was worthy enough for a mind game in his mirror chamber.
Finally, Christine entered her dressing room and filled a glass with water, sipping carefully. Erik remained silent until she had enough and sat down, turning to the mirror and fixed her hair, and, placing her hands in her lap, addressed her angel. "Angel. Angel, are you there?"
"I am here, my dear." Erik cleared his mind and tuned himself in to his student.
"I sang for you tonight, Angel. I know there's still a second half to finish, but did you hear me? I sang with my heart, like you told me to. Did you hear them applaud? I thought Carlotta had come onto the stage!"
Erik smiled softly. "Yes, child. Your voice has matured and grown to be the finest of all divas. You have surpassed Carlotta, Christine. You proved yourself to the managers tonight. Proved yourself to me. I am very proud of you."
Christine smiled and reached out towards the mirror. "Thank you, Angel. I will sing just as I did for the second half of the performance."
"You will sing better," Erik corrected, lightening the mirror to show his faint image. "You will sing with more beauty and passion, Christine. Remember, you are the lead tonight. Not a chorus girl."
"Yes, Angel." Christine looked wistfully up at his shadowed face and leaned back against the chair, sighing. Erik smiled.
"Rest your voice, Christine. I will be watching you."
"Yes, Angel." She sounded so mechanical, but she looked forlorn and tired. Returning the mirror to its usual state, Erik deftly made his way back to Box Five, stopping to listen to the ballet dancers gossip and giggle for a moment, before sliding back into the open and making his way up the stairs. Few people ceased their conversations to stare at the passing masked man as he disappeared into Box Five.
There, he was shocked to find Raoul sitting in a chair, leaning against the banister and looking out at the orchestra seats below. Erik drew his sword silently from its scabbard and pressed the tip of the weapon against the man's hip. "Just *what* do you think you are doing here," Erik hissed, poking him roughly. Raoul flinched and turned around, smirking.
"I thought our first meeting was much too abrupt."
"So you dare to return and risk your life a second time to speak with me? What a mind you have, Vicomte. I daresay I admire your strength, but I have no business with you."
"No, you don't. It is I who have business with you."
Erik scowled and drew his sword back. "Then speak quickly. I'm getting tired of your games."
Raoul stood and leaned back against the banister, arms crossed over his chest. He examined his nails and then glanced up at Erik's mask, at his yellow eyes and thin lips. He truly didn't have any business with the Phantom. It was just an excuse to hear his voice again.
"Hurry, Raoul. I'm not in any mood to play."
"My, aren't we impatient." As his mind raced, Raoul couldn't help but stare into Erik's eyes. If it made the Phantom uncomfortable, he didn't show it. Then, without thinking, his lips moved and his mind spoke for him. "Your eyes. They're beautiful."
Erik's lips pursed into a thin line. "You came here to tell me *that*? Don't you have better things to do?"
Raoul blinked and swallowed nervously. "I didn't mean to say that."
"And you did. Well, congratulations, Raoul. You've made a fool out of yourself."
"Indeed, I have." The Vicomte sighed. "Forgive me, Phantom. I was not thinking."
"Apparently." Erik smirked and sheathed his sword. "Now, are you going to leave? I'd like to spend the rest of the evening in peace, if you'd please."
"No." His answer surprised even himself, and Raoul held Erik's gaze steady, noticing his glare. "I thought, perhaps, I could sit with you tonight. Philippe's courting a young lady, and would probably rather share my seat with her."
Erik clicked his tongue. "Oh, my poor Raoul. How unfortunate. But, no. I'm sure there are more seats in your box."
Raoul found himself looking at Erik's lips and he swallowed again. His voice was wafting into his ears and drifting down his body to his groin. Hopefully, Erik wouldn't notice. Clearing his throat, Raoul gripped the velvet banister and raised a hand to slick his hair back. "But surely you get lonely up here, Phantom. Just this once, and then I'll never come around again. How about it?"
Erik was silent for a minute, his thoughts bubbling. Raoul's voice was thick with lust, he could hear it, as much as he was trying to mask it. Did he really think he could hide it from him? His lips broke into a smirk. "Are you making an advance, Raoul?"
The other man was startled. Was he that obvious? Raoul was dimly aware of the lights lowering around him and the voices silencing, the orchestra starting up as Erik remained standing and calm, the smirk existent on his face. He racked his mind for a reasonable defense, not noticing as Erik took as seat and leaned back against the chair. It was his voice that awoke him from his thoughts.
"Come, Raoul. Sit next to me. It would be impolite to stand there and talk to me during the performance."
"Yes, of course," Raoul mumbled, quickly taking a seat beside Erik. During the entire second half, Raoul continued to glance next to him at the Phantom, though Erik's attentions were directed at the stage. He had completed his task. Somehow, he felt he had broken Erik's barrier after he had realized and heard the lust in his voice. He had been successful.
Erik took this time to ponder the man's problem. He was most obviously lusting after him, even after just meeting him. How could that be, even so? They didn't know each other, barely, but he Raoul did say that his eyes were beautiful. Erik scowled to himself. Beautiful? Perhaps in some other world. Whatever gave Raoul that idea?
Against his better judgment, Erik glanced down at Raoul's lap where his hands sat. Indeed, he was aroused. He was hiding it well, but he was uncomfortable. Poor fool. Erik laughed quietly to himself and patted Raoul's hand, leaning in close to his ear. "No need to be ashamed, my friend. I see no fault in being. bothered."
Raoul hissed and turned his head to look at him sharply. "Stop toying with my brain, Phantom. I did not come here to be ridiculed and mocked."
Erik smiled and removed his hand from over Raoul's. "I meant no harm, Raoul. I just realize you desire me." He smiled and whispered, "Unless, you deny your heart and you refuse my offer."
Raoul blinked hard, drawing back to look at him with surprise. "You're offering yourself to me?"
"Now, I didn't say that," Erik chided, turning his eyes back to the singers. "Think that over, Raoul. I thought you were in love with Christine. Wouldn't you want to be faithful to her?"
Christine. He hadn't thought about her. Raoul frowned and turned his face away. He had just begun to think he was in love with the mysterious Phantom when he had to mention Christine. Now he had two things to think about. His head clouded and Raoul shook it to clear for it to clear, sighing. "I don't know, Phantom."
"Well, if you don't know, you'd better not do anything before you think it over, hm?" Erik smiled. "Christine means a lot to you. Don't do anything stupid, Raoul. Don't lose yourself to a frivolous, passionate thought. She'd be very displeased, and so would you."
"What does it matter to you," Raoul muttered, barely noticing Christine belting out her notes on the stage below. Erik blinked. Why did it matter to him, anyway?
"It doesn't matter to me," he said, sighing. "I'm just saying. You should consider your feelings before doing anything foolish."
Raoul glanced back at Erik and studied him carefully. What he wanted to do *was* foolish, and it would earn him a sword through the gut. But he made him wonder: if he did, what would Erik truly do? He was being so nice to him. perhaps he wouldn't mind.
Just as he was getting ready to make a move, Erik rose from his seat and placed another gold coin on the chair. "Alas, Raoul, I must be leaving. I have things to attend to. If you'll excuse me." Erik smiled and bowed, sliding from the box, leaving Raoul alone and lonesome.
Outside, Erik hurried down the hall and quickly encased himself in a hidden passageway. Once inside, he slid down the wall and closed his hand between his legs, groaning softly. That was it. Raoul was innocent. He was eager, but innocent. Sighing softly, he waited until his arousal faded and he closed his eyes, hearing Christine's voice through the walls. The opera was halfway over. And he was in love.
In love? Preposterous! He hasn't been in love since. since he was in that Gypsy group. That young Gypsy boy he had shared a few sweet kisses and touches with, and that young boy had died after an epidemic in the tribe. Erik sighed again. Raoul was not the one to fall in love with! He was in love with Christine, and they deserved to be together. There was nothing he could do.
Christine would probably be eating with Raoul after the performance, or would be returning home. he, himself, will return home. And he did.
Flopping down onto his bed as soon as he was inside his underground home, Erik was faintly aware of Ayesha meowing and nudging her face against his mask, lying down beside him and purring softly. Erik rolled over onto his back and drew the cat onto his chest, stroking her fur gently and soothingly as he closed his eyes. At first, there was blackness, that eventually grew into the image of Christine. He smiled. Christine was only a chick, and her voice was improving day by day.
The image left to be replaced with. Raoul? Erik opened his eyes and frowned. He had just met he man, and already he was thinking about him? He had gone mad.
Erik gently set Ayesha down and didn't bother to undress. He merely crawled underneath the covers and removed his mask, setting it on his beside table. He closed his eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.
Meanwhile, Raoul had finished watching the opera in silence and risen from his seat and also left a coin behind, walking back to his brother's box. He and Philippe left, once gathering their things, and Raoul endured a prodding and poking talk on the way back home. He didn't wish to have that talk with Christine anymore. He had some serious thinking to do.
Philippe earned no answer from his brother and watched in confusion as Raoul mounted the stairs and declared he was tired and was retiring to bed. Usually he stayed up for a drink or two, and chatted far into the night. Philippe nodded and bid him a good night, shaking his head and pouring himself a drink. Whatever had happened in Box Five had gotten to him.
Raoul collapsed on his bed and kicked off his shoes and socks, groaning and sitting up to slowly undress. He was aroused again, he noted, and he brought himself to quick and easy release in the privacy of his own room, moaning 'Phantom' as he came. He knew him by no other name, and he wished he had asked for his name. Sighing, he tugged on his nightclothes and slipped into bed, sighing again at the comfort the warm sheets offered.
"Phantom. who are you?" Raoul turned over and lay awake for a while before sleep claimed him, those yellow eyes of his cocky friend haunting him. It was soon when Raoul's breathing slowed in the state of sleep, dreaming of nothing but his Phantom of the Opera. Tomorrow was another day.
And tomorrow, he would seek him out again.