A/N: Quite explicit, rated M for a reason. Other than that, I hope you enjoy!
The strange influx of customers meant Elise had basically been thrown from one lap to another with hardly a moment to even wipe her thighs. Having served customers for over a year, she never recalled her legs being so sore, but apparently, the re-opening of the opera had been quite the affair. Hundreds had drawn into town, and a large percentage of them had landed in her room.
No one had expected it to survive what had happened, the scandal of Christine Daae being whisked away by some fake ghost then marrying a Vicomte only a few months later should have been more than it could handle. Though, if Elise were in the girl's position, she would've married the Vicomte too, for they had found no one in the cellars below, merely a mask and copious amount of used candles. It had led to terrible insanity rumors for the poor thing.
But now she was an unquestioned Vicomtesse whose brother-in-law frequented the very establishment Elise would kill to leave.
Frankly, her work provided her a healthier salary than most menial occupations did, and if she smiled on nights like these, her pay would occasionally elicit tips. There was no reason to string beads or clean other people's houses.
Deep into the night a moment of respite had arrived, and for a minute in time, Elise was able to warm a cloth with boiling water and give herself a thorough cleaning, using the rest of the boiling kettle to make herself a strong cup of tea. Madame Vene had said she'd send any lingering customers her way, but doubted anyone else would stroll in at that late hour.
Pulling her robe closer, Elise only hoped it was true.
Eventually she tired of her tea, but did not tire of being awake, and went back out into the hall where the hum of just down the way filled her head. The aching from earlier had gone with the warm soak, and now she cared for a drink.
However, before she even got past Cladie's door, a figure appeared down the way and seemed to pause just there.
She'd never seen a man so tall, and having worked for a year in this specific house of ill-repute, Elise had seen her share of men. Usually, it was not the handsome business men. Sure, they were a franc a dozen, but middle-aged pigs were the most-common and demanding men that showed up. Learning how to please them had been easy because they didn't want to be pleased at all, merely needed a hole to stick it in to get their pleasure, then throw the coins against her back or stomach and be done with it.
Elise's neck hurt looking at him and he wasn't even so close.
The man's entire ensemble was black, and he stood with stillness that made Elise feel like she was seeing things.
"There she is," the Madame's voice was distinct, but she felt all women's voices who ran places like this were. "Third door on the left."
Turning off the lost-puppy look was a lot harder than it should have been, but she managed as she gave him a toothy grin. Not that she could see him under the wide-brimmed hat.
Madame Vene slipped around him and whispered lowly in her ear, "He's your last for the night."
"Thank you," Elise replied, reaching her hand out as the sound of heels exited the hallway on the other end.
The man still lingered.
"Aren't you coming?"
Nearly unprepared for his gait, the only thing that kept Elise from faltering was the wall that she had been leaning on to look somewhat alluring as he practically floated forward, a mass of darkness she already felt intimidated by. As long as Madame hadn't sent her a violent one this late into the night, it shouldn't be too much of a hassle.
His skin was cold, he must've just arrived.
"What's your pleasure?" She asked, his hand held hers lightly as she pulled him forward, allowing him to tower over her against the wall.
Now her neck really hurt.
It was so shadowed in the hall that all she could really make out were his eyes, a dull green, something one might consider yellow. Her heart was pounding in her chest as he made a low rumbling noise Elise could feel where they were touching. When was the last time a client had unnerved her so?
That Victor brute in December had been quite the hustle, bringing his knives and all, but the moment one drew crimson from her she screamed and the Madame swiftly had him removed by a couple of regular clients who had just finished their evenings.
This man was trembling, or at least the hand on her hip was, and she wanted so desperately to see him beyond the darkness.
"I'll take what I can get."
His voice made a warmth in her belly that was reserved for no client at all, and Elise put it in check before she could think about it.
"Right… come in then."
She turned and pulled him inside her room which was far more lit than the hall, her candles burning brightly as she turned to see him at last.
However, his eyes were still prominent against blackness as he removed his hat, revealing a tan mask covering his entire face besides his eyes, lips, and chin.
Elise tried not to panic, but it must've shown.
"Unlike your other customers, I am willing to let you decline. All the others have so far."
Her mind ran wild with the implications. She started with the idea that he knew very well where he was and what she did everyday for a living and that it meant little to him. She continued with the fact he was painfully aware an option on her end was not common, in fact, no man had ever offered her a choice to decline him, and she'd worked at four of these establishments over the course of her career.
Last was the heartbreaking idea he'd offered this out to other girls and they all had declined him.
He was her final fuck of the night, if he wanted he could even sleep there, for she certainly was going to sleep when it was all over.
He looked well-dressed, probably a virgin considering the remark, and most likely was well-paying if Madame Vene had passed him on to her. There was no reason to turn him out, none that she could think of anyways.
All of her thoughts had happened in a brief swirl that was enough time for her to interrupt him.
"I won't decline-"
"You can decide-"
He stopped, seeming uncomfortable now, and Elise huffed before sitting on her bed and motioning to him briefly. She wouldn't talk over a paying customer.
"You can decide twice. Once now, and once when I remove the mask."
Elise nodded. The rest had probably come to the same conclusion and run at the second step, she concluded. That made much more sense.
"I accept."
Somehow she only unnerved him further.
"I would prepare yourself as it is not easy to handle."
Her heart broke for him. What could truly be so wrong with a man in a mask? He was probably just ugly, many of them were, and that was when she closed her eyes and pretended they were something else, feigning pleasure. Doubt plagued her, the smarter part of her understanding that he probably wasn't bluffing about the severity of his condition.
Before it could drown her, she spoke.
"Remove your mask then."
Voice more sure than her mind, Elise held steadfast to her blankets with white knuckles.
First, he took off his cloak and set it on the chair behind him, covering the whole thing as he sat. He was getting awfully comfortable for someone who apparently left these rooms without his reward, and Elise couldn't help but watch. He was a graceful creature, probably had the prowess for a pleasing evening, and the challenge made her steadfast. Even if he was nothing but a skull, she might accept for the sake of finding out.
Sliding pale and twitching fingers beneath the black mask, it came off slowly enough that she was able to see pieces before seeing the rest. His spindly appendages were a matching set to the skin stretched over his face. Elise felt guilty her mind compared him to a skull, something without a nose, upon finding he didn't have one, and the shiver that split her spine in half made her swallow the lurching of her stomach.
The mask was still in his hands, occasionally moving with his worry as she eyed him, his face surprising liberal with his emotions. In all her years in these places, she'd seen sad men, devastated by their lovers or worse, and yet the sorrow in them could not compare to the bleak, non willfulness to exist that was the frown he wore. With more conviction than he obviously had, she got up and stood before him, making him look up at her.
She hooked a finger under his jaw, surprised to find the skin feeling just a little less tight than a callous, hairless and warm as opposed to his hands.
The candles just happen to cast perfect shadows so she couldn't see right up his nasal cavity.
"And what would your pleasure be, Monsieur?"
A sob broke from him first, and part of her groaned she wasn't getting paid enough for this, and another part of her broke with him, her heart shredding to pieces in her own chest. His head against her breast was the most tender thing to happen to her in a few years, however, and as much as he probably didn't care for this to end, neither would she.
This was not going to be good.
He calmed eventually, and she decided they might as well get to it.
"Have you ever done this before?"
"No." His voice was even, rigid metal, but a rare and brilliant one.
"Why now?"
Elise pulled back, looking at him again, surprised to find all the earlier sorrow had left him impassive and his features stern, practiced. He obviously didn't take the mask off all that often.
"I endeavored to know this particular experience of the human flesh," she started working while he talked to her, figuring better to start later than never as she pressed a kiss to his head, then down lower. "Earlier than this, but I have failed until now."
Sitting on his lap, Elise grabbed his hand and brought it to her breast. It wasn't often she got virgins, they usually gave those to the younger girls, but she had a feeling she knew why Madame Vene brought her this specific client. Her stomach was stronger than most. When there were critters in the establishment of the many-legged kind, it was always her job to shoo them away. This one, however, she was going to nurture before turning him out.
"Squeeze," she commanded, and the light pressure on her chest thrilled her core. Shit, a virgin was going to make her feel like this?
Bringing her hand over his, she slid it to the opening of her robe while holding on to his neck with the other hand. He was sturdy despite the fact she found him quite thin, his bony legs not exactly a comfortable resting spot.
Still, she shimmied at the sudden expert pinch of her nipple, unexpected but appreciated in how delicate it was.
Kissing along his temple, his hand parted her robe and grabbed her bare flesh, the cool of his skin a welcome change to all the clammy hands that had fondled her already through the night.
Then, she kissed him.
Many men didn't want to be kissed, especially some of the ones who were there to expend upon a woman when their wife was unavailable. This man seemed overwhelmed by it, but the only proof was the sound his throat made, dulcet as his tone seemed to be, but also involuntary and something not as practiced.
Elise was honestly shocked by the pleasantness of the kiss. What little lip he did have was soft, the warm and fragile skin around them serving well enough. Frankly, he moved with hers as if he'd done this before, pressing against her without the angel those with noses usually needed. God, he was actually incredible.. The breath on her face was just warm coming straight from the cavity which he used to breathe. Her heart was racing as she slid her tongue to his, and she was aroused, truly, for the first time that night by the man she was with, not by her own assistance.
Her hands on his jaw were firm, and as he broke the kiss, she recalled what he looked like, the opposite of everything else about him had to be that disfigurement, for he was certainly beautiful.
Settling his hands to her side, she went for his vest, unbuttoning it, shimmying it down his arms, the look in his eyes curious as she returned to untuck his shirt and slide that off as well.
The curiosity was well-warranted. He was only a few morsels ahead of emaciation, and despite the lean muscle clinging to his bones, what she noticed first were the scars.
"What happened, Monsieur?"
Ghosting a finger over the thick scar on his sternum, he answered her with a name.
"Erik."
"What did he do?"
"That's my name, Mademoiselle."
She looked up from his chest and balked, feeling stupid for not having asked for it earlier. Really, she shouldn't considering how this whole thing had started.
"Sorry."
He hummed, a beautiful noise, and then rubbed up and down her thighs, probably a gesture to ease her as she leaned over and placed kissed to his collar bone, over the bubbled scars.
"I've acquired them all because of how I look, or what some would consider disobedience."
His tone was harsh, but she hardly noticed. Elise was focused more on the way his hands squeezed her thighs when she let her teeth graze a specific spot on his neck.
"God woman, and what do I call you?"
"Elise," her name was quiet from her lips, but she was so close to him, there was no way he didn't hear her.
"Elise."
If he fancied, he'd have to come back, he would be her regular, and if any of the other girls asked, he paid minimum price and was an absolutely despicable lay, but she felt bad enough to let him come back.
He tested her out with a peck to the column of her throat and she couldn't help the mewl of his name that escaped her. This was obviously more than needing more than his hand to relieve his arousal. He wanted to have her… no, she scolded herself. He wanted a woman, any one would do, she just happened to get lucky and have a strong stomach for the ugly.
What it was about him that made her so attached was beyond her, but she'd done the exact thing she promised herself never to do. This specific attachment might just kill her. Elise would let him.
"The bed?"
He stood, and for the first time Elise felt fear as he hooked his arms under her. Nothing happened, she was secure in his arms despite his frail frame and half-nakedness. Her dressing gown hung off her body like a cape, and their eyes were locked, chests steady.
Elise kissed him again, the hand squeezing her backside was not the one bearing her weight, yet still she was steadily suspended as he dipped his tongue into her mouth first. The coordination required was particularly advanced, she wondered what he did for a living, then wondered why she cared, more focused on the taste of him; wine mostly.
He sat them down on her bed and yanked her hips into his, a spark of desire in her when she felt him poke at her through his trousers. A real treat indeed this would be, even if he wasn't much to look at.
They kissed for awhile longer, and when Elise pulled back to see his wide eyes, doe-like in their innocence, she figured she might as well make this quite the treat for him. Gently dismounting him, she began to undo his trousers, beckoning him to stand as they all fell to the floor where he kicked them off, returning to be still like a statue. Glancing up, she found his eyes closed and took advantage of it, sinking to her knees and-
"Mademoiselle."
The warning tone startled her, and if her neck hurt before, now certainly-
"What are you doing?"
"Trust me," she bid. Elise kept her voice light and seductive, deciding maybe he might need to lay down for this. "Lay down."
Uncertain, Erik followed the instruction. He was quite the strange man, his intricacies many, yet his name as plain as day, with what seemed like meager choice behind it. She thought little of it as he laid himself out like a stiff board.
Giggling, she took his hand and used the same arm to hold herself up, the other helping her mouth in it's task.
The noises he made sounded as though he might be offended by her actions, though the firm squeeze of her hand gave her insight to what her eyes could not. He was the most challenging man she'd ever put her mouth on. Elise just couldn't help but be proud of how she was pleasing him, feeling the movement of his hips and tremor in his body boosting her pride.
Just because he'd never done this before didn't mean he would be easily pleased.
He finished, and she moved past the whole ordeal quickly, reveling only a little in the dazed look on his distorted features. Ugly as he was, he had a beautifully expressive face.
Taking a sip of tea to get the taste out of her mouth so as to not startle him with it, Elise moved back towards the bed as he sat up and settled herself back on his lap, her smile genuine as he seemed to come around back to the plane of existence.
Wildly proud, she leaned in and kissed him again, the challenge of the night turning out to be plenty enough to arouse her, which might explain the situation better than this man himself doing it. Elise didn't want to admit that his bony fingers fisting into her hips, making her skin deliciously red, was the true source of pleasure.
"You're going to need a minute before we go on."
"Is there a service I can provide you in the meantime?"
In all her years, she'd rarely ever had a man who paid for her services so they could do something to her. Elise knew he was no regular man, but he was a smart man, that was obvious. His speech and clothing were cut pristine, made of something better than she'd ever seen in her lifetime. There was no reason for him to genuinely want to please her except that maybe… there was probably no one else for him to please.
She would beg him to be a regular if all else failed and might even do it for a discount if the Madame let her.
"I'll take what I can get," she mimicked with a grin. It didn't last long when she found herself below him, her own neck kissed and bitten in the gentlest of ways, his fingers pinching her nipple again, though this time he lingered, did it until her hips were bucking, then replaced talented fingers with an even more luxurious mouth.
Who needed a nose anyways? It inhibited much more contact than Elise ever thought possible.
He floated lower, lavished her in a way that some of the girls with beau's had only ever described in brief detail, wanting to covet their private moments as much as possible. Elise had never seen the other side, had sold herself young and been a woman of this profession since fifteen, and so she tried to close her eyes and enjoy it, this probably being the last and only time she might ever get this chance.
He shouldn't have been as talented as he was considering he was a self-proclaimed virgin.
He dipped a finger low and circled exactly the right spot with little hesitance, Elise allowing herself the genuine moan that sounded nothing like her fake ones.
"I studied in Persia," he said quietly, unnerved by the sounds of it, even if his fingers showed the proof of her pleasure. "They were explicit, much more so than France will ever be, and I learned a great deal from my time as a spy before-"
He stopped himself, and the words did not continue as he slid his finger inside her, the gentle probe more of an experiment than anything as he slid back out and resumed the little motions that had Elise scrunching up her hands in the sheets.
She'd never had quite so intense an ending as he provided, but she had little time to just lay there and enjoy it as he moved right back up to her and asked her in the most alluring voice, "May I?"
If he'd come here and forced her face-first into the mattress with the violence of a drunk, she still might have said yes had he just spoken to her like that first. It was a terrible thought, he was far too nice to put in that category.
She nodded, and he entered her, pushed into her body that had already had its fill, and her mind completely forgot she'd had her mouth on him only a few minutes before. His hips collided with hers in the most blissful way, and they made a unanimous sound of pleasure.
He lasted much longer this time, and Elise was glad for that. A virgin man with such heartbreak needed to be handled delicately and with great reason and tolerance, not to mention she wanted it to last, this moment with his entrancing rhythmic thrusts. Maybe she was selfish reaching between them to put herself over the edge once again, but it seemed not as he replaced her hand with his, his entire body fit for this dance of rhythms and stamina.
Any woman would be lucky to have him… if they could get past his gruesome face.
Elise felt his final few thrusts go as deep as he could manage, her spine plain falling from her body as he made a delectable sound, half between a growl and a song.
He weighed more than he looked, probably the muscle, or his remarkable brain she was sure he possessed, and now he was warm from the tips of his fingers to his feet.
"I have to wash off, do you need anything?"
She had to do it quickly, if she laid there and let him sleep atop her, she would be trapped.
"No, Mademoiselle."
He just had to come back.
He shifted, she got up, and she rushed through her nightly routine before returning to the room.
Elise found him sound asleep upon her return, the first look of peace she'd ever seen on his features there in the dim color of candlelight.
His face wasn't so bad like this.
She voluntarily put herself next to him, managing to snake under an arm, his semi-roused state pulling her against his already cooled body. The chill of him felt nice, though, as the feeling of hot breath from his nasal cavity brushed her neck.
They'd talk about his returning when the sun rose.
Elise never got to ask Erik if he would come back to her. She woke the next morning to find a sum of money that would have made Madame Vene faint if it weren't for the note in terrible hand-writing that told her explicitly not to share.
Some of the words she didn't understand, but the note was long enough for her to gather what she needed to from it. Not sharing was the only direction she would follow, however, as he wanted her to pack up and go, take the money and live a different, easier life if she so chose. While the idea sounded nice, it was almost harder for a spinster than a whore in their world, and she wanted so very desperately to service him again. Surely if she stuck around she would see him, wouldn't she?
The daily paper only a few days later proved her wrong.
She sobbed as she packed her belongings away in the dead of night, having denied customers when she'd gotten the news, told Madame Vene it was a passing sickness she didn't want to work through, and grabbed the money. Traveling was not new to her, but having the funds to do so was.
She thought of warmer coasts, thought of warm and barely there lips, then thought of the crumpled, tear-stained paper in her bag that had broken the terrible news.
Erik is dead.
And while she might not ever know more about him than that one night, nor was she smart enough to ever figure it out on her own, Elise fancied she might have loved him. That somewhere, somehow, he was good.
