Returning days later for the next performance may very well be the stupidest thing Raoul had ever done.
When Christine had asked him what he had thought of her performance that night he had praised her as usual, but he had been exhausted and his mind had been preoccupied with the scent and feel of the Phantom's hands on him. Even when Christine had practically pounced him on the chaise, his thoughts had been on his velvet voice, his hands all over Raoul's body.
Now, he sat once again in Box Five, heart pounding and cock already half-interested and anticipating what may come. The entire day he had been willing the anticipation down, practically walking with an item near his groin at all times for if his thoughts strayed too far again. It was almost embarrassing how much the Phantom—no, Erik… God, he had given him his name. Did Christine know it? Or was this a privilege only he had? That thought stirred something in him once again and he ran a tortured hand down his face.
The overture began and he startled and straightened, curiously eyeing down at the orchestra playing like nothing sinful had happened in this exact box days ago. He remembered the managers being baffled when he had walked out just fine after the performance—after having cleaned up and tucking himself away, of course. For them it had been proof the Phantom had truly gone, for surely he would have enacted his wrath for somebody being in his Box Five.
Nobody but Raoul and said Phantom knew he had, in fact, exacted his wrath, and it had been on the Vicomte's mind every single night since.
Act I played out as expected and Raoul had to fight down the disappointment cooling his body. He had softened about fifteen minutes into it and instead focused entirely on the performance, now able to appreciate his fiancées angelic voice and soft appearance.
So, when intermission rang and he stood to get himself a refreshment, he was surprised to see a dark shape standing still as a statue in the back of his box. He would swear he saw a glint of gold within the silhouette meeting his eyes, a passing smirk on barely visible features.
"Monsieur le Fantôme?"
"I gave you my name, Vicomte. Let me hear it from your sinful lips."
So easily Raoul slipped back into the compliant man he had been days ago, exhaling a hot breath and ignoring the twitch in his slacks as his heart rate picked up. He licked his lips and took a breath. "Erik."
A satisfied hum drifted over the air, but Erik made no inclination that he would move and Raoul could practically feel the eager anticipation returning tenfold, yearning for the man's touch as soon as the possibility returned. "How long have you been standing there, monsieur?" He crossed his arms, trying to look as displeased as he felt but sure he was failing, for there was a building warmth in his gut and Erik's glance was scrutinising.
The shape moved and Raoul couldn't discern what he was doing, but his throat tightened all the same. Perhaps talking back to the Opera Ghost in the hopes of getting touched much like a few days ago would prove fatal, but, strangely, even that thought had his heart skip a beat. When did this spectre of a man come to have this kind of power over him?
Really he should be notifying the managers that the Opera Ghost had not, in fact, gone and disappeared from the premises. He should have done so days ago when he had first heard his voice ringing in his ears, but he just could not get himself to do it. He was inexplicably drawn to this masked spectre, and he would do anything to learn more, do more.
"You look endearing disgruntled."
Raoul stiffened as his cheeks reddened. "I beg your pardon?"
Ever the Phantom, he ignored him. "Vicomte. Why have you returned?" There was a drip of sweet in his voice, a piece of the siren he was capable of calling upon at a moment's notice. The siren Raoul had heard fabled whispers of.
"I could ask you the same." Raoul kept his eyes firmly on the shadow, even while his heart picked up its pace and his breathing felt shallow and hot.
Said shadow gave a grim chuckle and then detached from the wall, gliding over to the Vicomte and towering over him to smugly look down at him. "This is my box, Vicomte. Anything in my box is mine, yes?" His golden eyes glinted from beneath the dark wide-brimmed hat, challenging the Vicomte then and there.
He shuddered, hands clenched tightly into fists as he tried to keep his train of thought intact. It felt like the Phantom was giving him an out—as if to correct himself for days ago, offer Raoul the dignity to reject him and leave. Instead, Raoul wet his lips and tilted his chin up, refusing the man a clean conscience. "You have my dagger, monsieur."
Cool metal pressed against his neck and a strangled gasp fell from his lips, reflexively craning his neck to try and get away from the sudden press of blade. A strong and gloved hand touched his cheek, the leather cool to his skin, and then shifted back through his hair to cradle the back of his head. He wished he could explain the whimper passing over his lips, the closing of his eyes in anticipation of a heated kiss much like then.
Instead he felt the cool porcelain of the mask near his face, and his eyes shot open to meet Erik's impossibly close to his. "Careful, Vicomte, or I may just give it back," Erik purred wickedly, a dark smirk twisting his features and the knife pressed harshly against Raoul's neck.
His Adam's apple bobbed against the cool blade as he swallowed, hands uselessly at his side refusing to work. How easy it would be to reach up and take off the man's mask, look upon the horrors Christine had described.
Christine...
Breathlessly and without thinking he moved to turn back to the stage, for surely Act II would begin soon and he ought to witness it properly this time.
A hand cupped his clothed cock and his toes curled as he exhaled hotly, eyes fluttering at the sudden touch and his movement stilling. The hand kneaded his cock almost painfully so, stroking the length and squeezing its width over his slacks, Raoul's breathing shaky and uneven.
"You are mine, Vicomte," Erik rumbled deep in his throat, hot breath ghosting over Raoul's face. He removed the knife and threw it to the ground blade-first without second thought. "You dare step foot in my box, I own you." He grasped Raoul's hair and pressed impossibly closer, backing them to the wall, all the while fondling the Vicomte through his slacks. "You returned to feel me upon you once more," he whispered smugly. "Shameless for what society would think, shameless of your title." He gave a particular strong jerk at the cock straining his slacks and Raoul thrust forwards.
"You return to me to get your cock tugged."
"Yes…" Raoul gasped softly, head lulled forwards and hips bucking up into the delicious pressure of Erik's hand. "Anything…"
"Say my name, Vicomte," Erik growled lowly, golden eyes staring intently at the foggy Vicomte, no doubt soaking up every twitch of lips and fluttering of eyes.
Said Vicomte exhaled and his head lolled back against the wall to meet Erik's dark and dangerous gaze. He licked his lips and steadied himself, hands pressed against the wall behind him. "Erik."
"Good boy."
Raoul grunted when an arm was pressed against his neck, had him breathless and pinned him with more strength than he had envisioned from the Phantom's slender frame. His breath halted when Erik's other hand shoved itself in his slacks and reached for his cock. He rutted into the leathered digits right away, revelling in them wrapping around his cock and pulling at his heated skin. "Fuck—" he gasped, eyes drooping shut and hips fucking into Erik's tight hand. He was unable to stop the pitiful moans and grunts, Erik tugging and sliding over his cock in ways that made him see stars.
The Phantom breathed heavily in front of him, eyes intently staring down at his hand disappearing into Raoul's slacks, his head pressed against his arm. It almost looked like he was as entranced as Raoul was, but surely that was not the case.
Though, if Raoul tried, he could hear the sinful slicking of his precum being fucked over his cock and Erik's hand, the slickness making it easier and easier to fuck into his fingers. It was absolutely sinful and he vowed to atone for that later, as currently Erik's hand felt too good to push away and he desperately needed more.
Erik grumbled and pressed harder against Raoul's throat, dangerously glancing up as his hand left the Vicomte's cock and disappeared from his groin altogether. Before he could complain however, Erik leaned down and clashed their lips together, biting harshly at Raoul's soft lips and invading his mouth with his tongue.
Raoul grunted and melted into the Phantom's strong hands, whining as he thrust his hips forward into thin air. "Monsieur—"
"Shush, little one," Erik hissed onto Raoul's lips, and Raoul bit his lips when he heard a belt buckle much as he had days ago.
Mindlessly Erik pushed his slacks and drawers down to his thighs, exhaling a hot breath as he freed his own aching cock to the cool air of the box. His hand then made quick work of Raoul's slacks and underpants.
"What—" Raoul breathed, heavy-lidded eyes straining to see past Erik's arm to glean what he was doing. When instead he felt a hot hardness pressed against his cock he stiffened, breath raspy and uneven as he looked up to meet Erik's eyes, briefly uncertain.
"You turn bashful now, Vicomte?" Erik grumbled, his velvet baritone mocking Raoul's heated cheeks and his golden eyes glinting. "When you have had my cock inside your mouth and you swallowed my seed? Foolish boy." He thrust his hips forwards against Raoul's cock and let out a soft moan as their cocks slid together. He reached down and wrapped his hand around the both of them, squeezing tightly and fucking into the pressure.
Raoul reeled, whole body tensing at the overwhelming pleasure invading his senses and a pathetic moan escaping him. He eagerly thrust up into Erik's hand, unsteadily reaching up to grasp the arm still at his neck and settle against him, eyes tightly shut. Bloated lips met his and he grunted in surprise, nonetheless melting into the heat as Erik's tongue skilfully slipped inside and blanked his thoughts entirely.
It was too much. Too much contact, too much wetness and heat, too much—
"Look at me."
With a strangled cry Raoul's eyes shot open into Erik's golden gaze as he jerked forwards and came all over Erik's hand, legs trembling and knees almost giving out at the intensity of the orgasm shuddering through his body.
Erik didn't relent against Raoul's sensitive cock, instead rutting harder forwards against it with a heated grunt, his eyes not leaving Raoul's. His hand jerked ever over their cocks, slick with the blond's seed and their joined precum.
Breathlessly Raoul stared back at him, whimpering and crying against the assault on his softening cock. He writhed desperately against Erik's firm grip but found no leniency, his head thrown back against the wall and eyes firmly shut as he moaned and panted from the exertion.
Almost impossibly so Erik increased his pace with a gasp of his own, at last moving his arm and instead cradling Raoul's face once more and yanking him back into a heated kiss. His hand didn't tire, continuously stroking their joined cocks and spreading Raoul's seed over the both of them.
"Wait—" he cried into Erik's mouth, got cut off with a rough kiss and tug at his bottom lip. He could feel the heat in his gut intensifying ever more, his whole body tensing up as he writhed uncontrollably to try and get away from Erik's assault. "Please—" With another cry he jerked forward and his cock sputtered as he came once again, feeling lightheaded and his mind reeling as his whole body trembled.
Erik looked hungrily at him, a spark in his eyes that Raoul couldn't decipher. Feebly he touched at Erik's chest, gasping and trying to push him away at last, but unable to do so, feeling weak. "Please, Erik, I—"
With a strangled groan Erik came, hips jerking up into his hand and against Raoul's cock a final time as his seed spilled over them and onto Raoul's waistcoat.
Raoul slumped forwards when Erik finally removed his hand, panting and trembling all over. He opened his eyes—when did he close them?—when he felt fingers against his lips, gazing unsteadily into Erik's eager eyes as the Phantom held his index and middle finger against the Vicomte's plush lips.
"Must I command you, Vicomte?" Came his sultry baritone, practically purring the veiled threat. How he was so coherent after what they had just done, Raoul wasn't sure.
He exhaled and parted his lips, letting out a quiet moan when Erik pushed his fingers in. He lapped at the digits, tasting himself and Erik's salty mix of seed and precum as well as the leather of his glove. He closed his eyes and suckled on the fingers, making a noise when they were pushed all the way in. He gagged slightly but managed to control it with a wheeze, tongue lapping at the coated leather.
When Erik at last removed his fingers his gaze was dark but his lips were curled in a smirk. "That is a good boy, Vicomte."
Raoul suppressed the whine when Erik backed away and released him, his body suddenly cold and empty. He watched as the man took a handkerchief from a pocket and cleaned himself, hissing quietly at the sensitive touch. He tucked the fabric away and Raoul practically pouted at thinking he would have to use his own when Erik swiftly fell to his knees. Raoul's eyes widened and he breathlessly stared down at Erik who didn't bother to meet his eyes.
He grabbed at Raoul's now soft dick and his lips parted.
As soon as Erik's heat was around him Raoul let out a moan, despite it hurting more than being a pleasure. The mere thought of the Phantom of the Opera on his knees with Raoul's cock in his mouth would be enough to send him over the edge, but he was exhausted. Still, his dick twitched with vague but tired interest.
Erik's tongue worked masterfully around the cock in his mouth, lapping up every piece of seed both his and Raoul's. He took extra care of the tip, touching his tongue around the base and swirling it around its width, suckling on the sensitive skin. When he was satisfied of it being clean he pulled away and wiped his mouth, swallowing the salty mixture in his mouth. He glanced up to find the Vicomte staring with wide eyes down at him.
"Breathe, Vicomte." He smirked and easily got to his feet before he idly adjusted his mask.
Raoul gaped at him, then licked his lips and eyed down at Erik's, seemingly not realising he was still exposed. He had half a mind to ask for a kiss, but instead he reached up towards Erik and pulled him straight back into a messy kiss.
Erik grumbled into his mouth yet lingered for a moment before he pulled away, gaze dark and dangerous. "Do not do that again, or I will bring the gag after all."
"That does not sound like a threat, monsieur," Raoul dared on a hot breath, licking his lips as he tried the sudden bravado he felt. "It seems your methods of intimidation and hurt are doing quite the opposite of what you intended."
With a wicked grin Erik seized Raoul's chin and angled him up to daringly look at him. "Perhaps this is exactly what I intended."
Raoul swallowed thickly. He was about to respond when Erik detached from him and slithered back into the darkness of the box.
And just like that he had vanished.
Raoul blinked, still leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes and tried to even his breathing, his rapid pulse. Music drifted into his ears and he glanced towards the balcony of his box as if suddenly remembering what was happening. With shaking hands he tucked himself back in and got out a handkerchief to try and clean the seed on his waistcoat.