a/n: we're drawing close to the end, everyone, so here is one of the last chapter! Enjoy!
Thank you very much to:
NightmareFXLize Radcliffe (and yes, vanilla is awesome, isn't it?)
inkie pinkie
Walking downstairs is like torture. I watch as a servant passes me. Their eyes land on my face, and then go back to their job, whether in fear or respect I can not tell. Raoul doesn't seem to have noticed as he escorts me down to the dining room. Once there I see Philippe already sitting at the head of the table. Raoul takes a seat and motions for me to sit across from him.
PHILIPPE POV
I had always wondered what was hidden behind the mask, but this is too much for me. The sight is utterly repulsive, and I find myself quite disgusted. I hold my tongue though, and I act as if he were anyone else at my table. From the looks of things he's already having a difficult enough time.
"So, Erik," he turns to me, as if he were still wearing his mask, but much slower, almost reluctantly, "What do you do in your spare time? Any hobbies other than playing and writing music?"
"Oh yes," he answers politely, "Any type of art really. I'm also quite fond of architecture. My favorite artistic expression would be painting."
"Are you good?" I ask.
"Oh, just an amateur, really, still practicing, nothing worthy of praise," he lowers his head.
"Are you kidding?" Raoul defends him, "You're art is amazing."
"No, nothing that great, Raoul, you've never seen my work," he looks up at Raoul.
"Wasn't that your work all throughout your room," Erik lowers his head further.
"Like I said, terrible work," he sighs out.
"Morbid, very much so, but terrible, that's the opposite of what I saw," Raoul takes Erik's hand from across the table and holds it, squeezing it slightly.
I decide to cut in, "My brother has quite a taste for art, Erik. I know that I can trust what he says is good to be excellent, indeed, so, if what I hear is true, than you must be a genius."
"I'm not a genius," he ends the conversation as the first course of our French meal is brought in.
It's very fresh vegetables in a mild sauce; "This looks great, thank you."
The server bows and leaves as the drinks are poured and dinner begins.
Erik has chosen wine as his drink.
"You may want to hold off on the wine until later," I suggest.
He politely answers, "It is the only thing I drink."
"I'll make a note to get some more than," I turn back to my meal and Raoul nervously glances at Erik.
The main meal is a very fine cut of steak, cooked to perfection and seasoned lightly with a small side of potato.
If I eat civilized, then Erik eats as though he were dining with a king, very polite and following every etiquette rule ever made, I'm sure.
He finishes and politely waits for the next course in silence, having only eaten half his meal.
RAOUL POV
I should have known our portions would be much too large for him. He barely eats, and when he does it is in small portions. I shall have to make a note of that. I love my brother so much for trying to include Erik in polite conversation and never staring or making rude remarks. I guess that he would never dare do such a thing.
Our salads come and Erik politely takes the serving but barely makes a dent in it, before pushing it back.
The cheese and fresh fruit are served, and all he takes is a small stack of crackers and finishes.
"Now," he politely starts, "if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I would like to rest."
"Erik?" he holds up a hand to stop me and leaves.
"What is his problem with the food? This is the finest around!" my brother exclaims once he hears Erik's door close.
"He does not eat much by nature, Philippe," I comment.
"Why not?" my brother is being quite rude now, his perfect demeanor shattered.
"Because… when he was younger he did not each much, because he was not given much," I try to end the conversation.
"Was he poor?" my brother asks, more soft now.
"No, he was thrown out by his mother and picked up by gypsies," I blurt out before I can stop myself.
Without excusing myself I leave to follow Erik.
Knocking on his door there is no answer.
"Erik, it's only me, Raoul," I answer the silence.
"Please, just go away, I'm fine," the sound is from the bathroom.
"Erik…" my voice trails off.
"Raoul, please, I'll be out soon enough," he comments.
I open the door and walk in anyways, finding him on the bathroom, holding a bin and vomiting roughly into it.
I rush to his side and start to rub his back soothingly as the action shakes his body.
"I ate far too much," he comments.
"I was very surprised you managed it all. Thank you, but I shall make the note to the cook not to make you such a large meal," I rub his back some more.
He smiles vaguely and finds his heaves now dry.
"I'll go get you something to rinse your mouth out with," I comment and leave to go and fetch some mint water from the kitchen.
Quickly doing so and returning, I find him mopping sweat out of the crevices of his deformed face.
He quickly stops when he notices my presence, "Sorry."
I smile, "Don't be."
I hand him the rinse and he gladly rids himself of the taste in his mouth. When he finishes I follow him out of the bathroom as he lies down on the bed. I start to rub his back and I feel his muscles relax under my touch.
Eventually I lean down and kiss him gently on the mouth.
Pulling away I smile and joke, "Minty fresh."
He laughs and I find myself longing for him to laugh more, the sound very light and pleasant. I reach out and gently remove his mask, caressing his face.
"I shouldn't have made you go down there like that, I'm sorry," I turn away, my hand still on his face.
His hand reaches up to gently cover mine, "You wouldn't have asked if I were more lenient about it around you."
"But I shouldn't have pushed you into it. I'm sure that is also partially the reason you got sick," I lie on top of his back and start to pull on the shirt, leaving enough of his back bare for me to rest my head on it.
He moans, "Probably, but I think I needed that."
"What?" I lift my head slightly.
"To see how your brother reacted. I must say, it was not with the greatest of courtesy, but he really did try. I would like to thank him for that next time I see him," he let's me resettle on his back and then takes a deep breath, making me laugh.
"You know," changing the subject, "we didn't have sufficient time in the bath earlier."
He smiles, "No, we didn't."
"We have time now," I grin against his skin.
"Yes, we do, don't we?" he takes a hold of my hand and I smile wider still, if it is possible.
I sit up and we both make for our wardrobes, me coming in with lounge wear and him simply taking a black kimono for afterwards.
"That's beautiful," I comment.
"I like it as well," he fingers it carefully, "I do some of my best composing wearing it."
"Only that?" I take him in my arms.
He laughs, "Yes, only this."
We slip into the perfect temperature water, but everything seems so much hotter. I move into his lap and his lips mold over mine in a hot searing kiss. His tongue slips out and runs over my lips, and my mouth gladly opens to allow him entry once again. His taste is exquisite, minty still, and I wrap my arm around his neck, holding myself closer and pulling him to me in the same motion.
His tongue meets mine and they fight for the right of domination. Mine tongue looses as his moves on to the rest of my mouth, searching, intoxicating me with every contact he makes. A deep moan escapes my throat as a result.
He pulls back and his mouth moves down onto my collarbone, nipping at the skin. Every now and then he bites hard and I whimper. In reaction to his, he lets his tongue trace the bite and lightly kisses my skin, muttering an apology. He then starts to move back to my neck and bites down painfully, hard enough to bruise. I cry out, but he moves his hand to choke it, making sure I draw no attention to us from the rest of the house.
When his mouth moves lower I can feel the start of a bruise forming on my neck. I whimper again.
He lifts his head, and I can see the lust in his eyes, but when he looks at my neck the lust subsides into sadness.
"I'm sorry," he lightly touches it and I wince, the pain bordering unbearable at the slightest touch.
I reassuringly take his hand in my own. There are no words, for if there were they would sound too wrong, they would sound angered, which I am not.
I gently urge him to keep going, my hands tangled in his hair, so he continues.
His kisses trail down to the line of the water, and then his hips dig into my own.
"Erik," I gently coo, as he seems to double over in need of release.
"My angel?" he answers.
"It's okay… I'll be okay," I insist.
"I won't hurt you!" he cries.
"I got to do this last time, and now you need it more than I do, I'm not afraid!" I insist.
He nods and I turn over, knowing that the soap and the water are enough for me, I don't mind.
He simply covers my mouth and thrusts, nothing soft and sweet before hand, just pure lust and release. I cry out in pain and his hand luckily smothers it.
Feeling him release inside me, I feel my own release and energy from me drain.
He then gathers me in his arms, holding me close. I curl against his chest and feel sleep start to take over me.
I feel him lift me out of the tub and dry me off, wrapping me in his black kimono.
I look down; "I couldn't accept wearing this…"
"It's fine," he runs his fingers through my hair, "I have more than one, and it's easier than trying to get you into regular clothes."
"I can dress myself," I insist drowsily.
"I'd rather you not," he scolds.
Picking me up, he takes me to his bed and lays me on my back, covering me gently.
"Sleep well, my angel," is the last thing I hear before my battle with sleep is lost.
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a/n: please review!