Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: Continuation of Broken and Torture. ErikRaoul slash fic. No plot really, just musing, accidents, and bad habits that are forming.

Warning(s): homosexual content, slash!

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: I just finished writing this and realized that there is absolutely no plot. At all, not that that's a wholly bad thing, but just don't expect too much. Of course I'll continue it and was thinking if I should just do it all on one page, but then again why mess with a cliff hanger?

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Dilemmas and a Naked Vicomte

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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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Raoul woke up feeling better than he had in a long while, since before he even first laid eyes on the Opera Populaire. He reached out his hand to feel the other side of his bed and found nothing but empty space. Warm empty space. He mused. Erik had been there and he hadn't left that long ago. He felt disappointed to not wake up with Erik holding him, comforting him, but was ultimately relieved to have evidence that he hadn't just dreamt that whole event.

Erik had come to his bedroom. He had sung to him. He had held him. It was more than Raoul ever really thought was possible after leaving that godforsaken tunnel. A warm bed. He turned over and relished in the body heat and scent that still lingered faintly in the sheets. Bliss, utter bliss were the only words he could think of in that moment.

He looked around for a moment and realized that though it was darker than usual, it was quite into the morning. He was shocked that the maid hadn't entered his room. He was even more shocked that his mother hadn't. If the phantom hadn't left that long ago, the Vicomte wondered how he could have stayed that long in bed together without getting caught. Every morning since he had been sick, the maid entered the room and left a tray of food and then his mother would enter and stay by the bedside. Raoul looked around the room and saw his room was indeed untouched, the old tray still at its spot, and as he glanced toward the floor, he saw the key to his bedroom.

He grinned evilly and slowly slipped out of bed. Grasping the key in his hand he realized that he could have saved himself a lot of trouble if he had known that he had the only key to his bedroom. Looking around at the empty room again, he sighed after realizing that there would be nothing left to really do in a room by himself. Now, if he had a willing companion, he mused and let the thought drift to many, many others. He couldn't help but think of the phantom, couldn't stop his mind from going back to that voice, that body, that everything.

Raoul threw himself onto the bed, hoping that the last vestiges of Erik's heat were still there; hoping that his angel would appear to him, he looked out the balcony doors expectantly. The Vicomte scolded himself, when no one appeared. 'Of course he wouldn't come, it's practically broad daylight,' he thought bitterly, 'I'm acting like a lovesick girl. It's embarrassing.' He stood up from bed with a new mission. He was no damsel in distress waiting for his knight in shining armor – though he didn't mind being protected time to time, especially if it meant Erik would have to be scandalously close to him. Raoul marched to his closet, searching for some decent clothing. He would go straight to that opera house and... and, do what exactly. He stopped his tirade midway through buttoning his shirt.

The Opera Populaire was probably burned to the ground. After Don Juan Triumphant and the mob were through with it, there really wouldn't be anything left. What about Erik's home? He needed to go there, but not to search out his love just yet, but rather to stake his claim.

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Erik was tired and more than relieved to be in the safety of his own tunnels and the darkness again. He had woken up with an armful of a certain Vicomte to the sound of someone knocking loudly on the door. He was a light sleeper and that had been enough to trigger alarms in his head.

The phantom was lucky that he had not jumped out of bed or else Raoul would have woken up for certain, and that was an awkward moment he was glad to have missed.

It was nice though to wake up with the blonde in his arms. Raoul had even snuggled deeper into the embrace, and Erik was loathe to leave. The maid had stopped knocking on the door once who he assumed was Raoul's mother told her to let him rest. Relieved, Erik had laid there, watching as his angel slept peacefully. Watching until he knew that he had to leave. Leave before the Vicomte would wake so that there would be no discomfited goodbyes.

He had told himself that he was going to check on the blonde so that he could die peacefully, but now, he couldn't even do that. He couldn't even die properly.

He had somehow managed his way in the morning light back to the opera house and back to his tunnels. It hadn't been easy, but thanks to the worsening weather, the sun was not as bright and out as it should have normally been. It had been pure luck that a storm was starting to form.

Seeing the opera house in the morning had been a little more comforting though. It had looked worse when Erik had seen it last, and though even now it did look like it had seen better days, the walls and ceiling were still up. The doors were swinging slightly off its hinges and most if not all the windows were broken. The walls were singed black, but nothing extra plaster and paint couldn't fix.

Seeing that the area was indeed abandoned, no activity inside a broken opera house, Erik had been able to walk through the front doors. True, the doors almost did fall off, but it was one of the few times Erik had ever walked through the front doors like any other patron would. The inside, if possible was actually worse than the outside. It was obvious that the interior would have been more susceptible to fire, all the curtains, wood paneling, and carpeting. It was a veritable fire pit. Walking through the empty opera house, he couldn't help but feel saddened. This place had been his home since Madame Giry had saved him. It had been a reprieve from the past which he sought to forget.

Erik became angry with himself. He had to destroy everything he touched. He remembered now why he had told the boy to leave. He would destroy him as well. It was his curse and his face was merely the visible sign of the destruction his presence created.

Suddenly, dying alone seemed more a viable option than he had thought earlier in the morning.

What monster destroys his own home? He raced back to his tunnels, back to his lair to see what else had been destroyed. He needed to keep his mind off the blonde, but nothing seemed to work. He would have to atone for his sins and giving the blonde up was the biggest sacrifice he could think.

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Raoul had finally left the house. His mother had finally deemed him well and pronounced it good for his health if he left the house. It had been his goal since he had gotten up in the morning, but it wasn't until after lunch that his mother conceded to his wishes. He had sent a letter to Monsieur Andre and Firmin saying that he wished to continue his patronage of the Opera Populaire. That he would renovate the whole building and bring it back to the status it once was before. Along with the note, he sent a hefty amount of money for the down payment of starting construction.

Now that business was done with, he climbed upon his horse in hopes of seeing the Opera Populaire himself.

Looking up toward the sky, he was disappointed to see that the weather had only worsened. He hurriedly had left to ensure that his mother did not change her mind. Soon, he would have that house to himself though. His family was moving back to their main estate and he would be left alone in Paris. At first he had been planning to go with them, but considering the current circumstances, he was more than eager to be away from his family. His mother was really the only person left with him. Only a minimum amount of the house staff would remain, and Raoul thought himself independent enough to not need that many people.

He could feel the chill wind pick up and urged his horse from the walk he had been in to a quick trot. He sighed in relief when he saw that he was closer, but gasped in shock when he saw the building itself. He wasn't sure if what he saw was a good sign or a bad sign. The building at least was still standing, but compared to the magnificence it once was, it looked like it had been ransacked. It probably would have been if everything valuable hadn't burned.

Raoul realized that the Phantom would be home, and wasn't sure what kind of reception he would receive. He hesitated a few meters from the entrance, but at that moment the skies opened up and a deluge of rain fell from the heavens. He had no choice but to secure his horse and enter. In those few short meters, by the time Raoul was in the relative safety of the Opera Populaire, he was soaked to the bone. He had never experienced rain like that before. He distantly heard the thunder rumble.

The Vicomte took off as much wet clothing as he could and still be considered decent. It was chilly inside the opera house and he did not know if anyone was inside. The smartest thing to do would be to remove all his clothes but common decency disallowed that. Raoul shivered as he continued deeper into the opera house. It was burned. Almost everything was burned and broken. Only the faint memories of the grandeur. As Raoul walked toward the stage he couldn't help but realize there were really ghosts, shadows of the past events flickering before his eyes. He was transfixed on the physically empty stage. He was reliving the first time he had seen Christine, had seen the wonder he felt at the opera, he even relived the first time he realized he did not love Christine more than a dear friend or sister. It was all playing there before his eyes and suddenly all he remembered was darkness.

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Sitting silently beside the bed, Erik watched the Vicomte.

He had entered his home to find that the mob had not fully penetrated his domain. Too many trap doors and dark passageways. Unfortunately, they had been led straight into the music room, his organ had been destroyed and much of his life's work along with it. Mostly every other adjoining room was completely fine. He was angrily sifting through the ruins of what once were his compositions when he heard someone enter the opera house. He had almost dismissed it as the rain, but some sense told him it wasn't. The same sense that had told him which room was Raoul's.

He immediately cheered at the prospect of seeing Raoul again, that Raoul had taken the initiative to see him, but fought against the feeling. Erik didn't know what was wrong him. Whenever he rationally thought about the whole situation, he would come to the conclusion that he could not be happy with Raoul, that he could not encourage these actions further. However, the moment that Raoul was present, all he could think about are sweet nothings and promises of forever.

It was a veritable battle between his mind and heart.

Nevertheless, Erik journeyed to the surface to see why Raoul had come. He was surprised because the Vicomte had still been battling illness when he left in the morning. The blonde shouldn't have been out of bed. Yet, there he was in the phantom's domain, obliviously staring at the stage.

Erik looked at the empty stage, then to the Vicomte and back again. There was nothing compelling to see on the burned stage, and yet the Vicomte was staring straight ahead. It was only upon closer inspection of the blonde did he notice the tremors running through his body and that he was slightly swaying. Erik rushed forward just in time to catch the Vicomte as he fainted.

Erik realized that the Vicomte was soaked to the bone and becoming ill once more. In a rush, he carried the unconscious man downstairs to rest. Stripping the Vicomte of his clothing, which Erik reasoned was absolutely necessary for the Vicomte's well-being, was harder (excuse the pun --) than he had expected. The temptation was almost too much for his resolve, but all the years of restraint paid off.

Erik had kept his hands off of the Vicomte, and Raoul, well, the blonde kept his virtue.

So, Erik forced out of his own bed sat, keeping vigilant watch over the Vicomte. The blonde's fever had come back again, but it wasn't too bad. A little rest and being dry was all Raoul really needed at the moment. Erik, himself was getting fatigued. He couldn't sleep in the same bed... again. It seemed to be ritual now that every time Raoul and he met, they would end up sleeping together. And though Erik wanted to, badly wanted to, he couldn't allow himself.

He had to remember that he was going to let the blonde go, cut him off completely. Although technically the plan was supposed to have taken effect immediately, Erik had reasoned out that he couldn't just let Raoul die. That would be unthinkable. So, his plan was put on hiatus until Raoul was feeling better.

Erik realized belatedly that he could possibly never sleep in his bed ever again. He had been staring so long at the blonde that he knew whenever he looked at that bed, he would see Raoul laying there peacefully. Not just any Raoul, but a naked one, lying completely at his mercy. The blonde looked so innocent. Erik bit his lip so hard, he could taste blood. Feeling his hand twitch toward the blonde, he forced himself to think about the worsening weather; it was safer.

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Erik had been dozing off in the bedside chair when Raoul started to move. He was reaching out with his hand as if he were looking for something. Erik thought he was having a nightmare at first, but the lines creasing the Vicomte's brow was only one of concentration and confusion. Being so close, afforded him the chance to hear the quiet whisper that fell from Raoul's lips.

"Erik."

Said man stared at the blonde in shock. Even in sleep, Raoul was searching for him. He wanted so badly to join Raoul in bed, but besides the fact that he told himself he wouldn't, the blonde was indeed very naked underneath those blankets.

It would be torture, cruel sweet torture. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't. It was just wrong. It would be punishment for him. He should. It could be considered atonement for past sins. Erik grinned evilly at the idea. He did say he needed to atone for past sins.

His mind was screaming 'yes, join him', but some shred of dignity kept him seated in his chair.

He would surely go insane if he kept allowing his impulses to rule him.

Still, it was during this internal struggle that Raoul awoke with a groan.

"What happened?" the blonde asked turned to face the shadowed figure beside the bed. It was easy to figure out that it was the phantom, besides the fact that he had been in the opera house, Raoul just knew. He was safe and the bed he slept in was like being embraced by the man who he was certain owned it. He wanted to get up, but he could barely keep his eyes open, "I'm so tired all of a sudden."

Erik had to admit, the blonde was cute when he was still half asleep. Looking away, he replied, "That's because you're sick again. Traipsing around in the rain will do that to you often."

He hadn't meant to scold and seeing the blonde flinch at his tone only made him feel worse for it. More reason to stay away from the Vicomte. It would hurt him less, Erik was certain of it.

"I," Raoul hesitated, "fainted?" He hated that word. Men don't faint; women do. He didn't want to look weak in front of the phantom, Erik already refers to him as boy. No need to fuel that practice.

"Yes," Erik shrugged. It was no big deal. The Vicomte was sick and he fainted. Any reason to hold him was a good reason. Dammit, Erik scolded himself, he did it again. He had to stop thinking of Raoul in that manner, as a lover would. He couldn't help himself though, and in the end, Erik realized nothing could prevent the thoughts from occurring, so he just let them flow with the rest of his thoughts.

He was so busy thinking he almost missed Raoul's next question, "And, you found me on the floor?" Raoul asked trying to piece together what exactly happened, since the phantom was not willfully sharing any information.

"No."

"No?" Raoul looked at Erik closer as if to see if he was lying.

"No," Erik continued, "I saw you by the stage and caught you before you fell onto the floor. Would you have liked me to let you hit the ground?"

Sarcasm again. Erik was starting to hate himself. It seemed that he jumped from not being able to be civil to the boy to thinking impure thoughts in less than a moment's notice. Seeing that Raoul took no outward offense, he was relieved.

Raoul made no response but blushed at the thought.

"What?" Erik asked, seeing the blush. There was nothing scandalous at making sure someone doesn't fall when they faint.

The Vicomte looked away fixating on a shadow in the room's corner. He thought of avoiding the question but when he shyly looked back he saw the open look of interest and knew he had to say, "It seems I'm making it a habit of falling into your arms."

Erik saw the blush deepen, even in the candle light. He was confused at first, but then realized Raoul was speaking about the gunshot incident. Raoul was blushing in embarrassment. He was about to respond when Raoul continued.

"I was also hoping that," Raoul couldn't believe what he was about to say and had to look away again. He was starting to find that corner very interesting, "since that's already a habit, that you would continue the other pattern that's formed with our meetings."

Erik immediately knew what he was referring to. He looked toward the same corner and found that it was indeed very interesting to look at. He could feel a blush starting to emerge. It was the same thing he had been contemplating before Raoul awoke.

He just couldn't get into bed with a naked Raoul.

Could he?

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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Totally no plot in this one, but hey I do what I want and this is it. Come back for more! Reviews are the air I breathe.

And of course lame question to end with because he really could.