Surely he must have lost his mind. Why else would he return to the box for a third time knowing he would most likely be touched in ways no man should touch another? There was no other logical explanation for his continued seeking after the Phantom, who he really should be pointing out to the gendarmes at this point. He just couldn't get himself to do it, even knowing the Phantom—Erik—was a hunted murderer. There was a certain thrill in having Erik's once murdering hands on his cock, and that bastard absolutely knew.

Yes, Raoul was certain he toyed with the Vicomte. Why else would the elusive spectre haunt him like this, touch him like this? No sane man would do that to another, and he refused to give that—or his naval experience long ago—another second of thought as he easily took the steps to Box Five.

More days had passed in which Raoul pretended he was absolutely fine and nothing had happened every time Christine worriedly asked. Apparently she kept asking because he seemed distracted at times he really shouldn't be, and it had her worried.

Oh, she did not know the least of it.

The door clicked shut behind him and Raoul shuddered despite himself, exhaling shakily with eager anticipation he tried to will down as he found his seat. Since this whole ordeal started he had been battling with himself over these encounters. Yes, it had only been twice thus far, but he kept seeking it out with each return to Box Five. He should be absolutely disgusted with the Phantom, perhaps even terrified as Christine seemed to be. Yet all he was instead was… fascinated, attracted, drawn to his exuding darkness in ways he would never quite be able to explain.

He also found that with every passing thought on the matter he grew more and more frustrated. He didn't want to ponder over whatever the hell was going on with his feelings and wants, he just wanted the Phantom to give him a blowjob of a lifetime. He just wanted to kiss him breathless

Raoul let out a startled cry when an arm shot out next to him and stabbed a dagger into the railing of the box and splintered the wood.

He moved to stand and was immediately met with a hand faster than lightning grabbing at the back of his neck and pushing him forwards to the balustrade. In the scuffle the chairs fell to the ground, and he grunted as the hand bent him down and forced him towards the railing. Unable to turn and face his attacker, he relented, allowing the hand to press his face down against the wood with a tense breath.

The lights dimmed and the overture started. How poetic it would be for me to be murdered here, he thought, chest heaving as his cheek pressed against the wooden balustrade. He grunted when his arms were yanked behind his back and a silken smooth fabric bound them together.

Wait.

His eyes shot towards the knife in front of him, still stabbed into the railing, and he let out a relieved and amused breath. He closed his eyes and eased against the firm hands securing the binds around his wrist, steadying himself knowing he was safe.

"Your defensive skills need work, Vicomte." Erik bent over him, bodies pressed hotly together, to whisper into his ear, and Raoul bit his lips at that silken voice.

He swallowed thickly and attempted to look back at Erik, to meet his golden and hypnotic eyes, but a gloved hand pushed his gaze away back out to the stage. He closed his eyes for a moment, settling his thoughts and ignoring the building heat within him. "No blindfold, monsieur? Keeps prying eyes away."

"Oh, I know," Erik chuckled darkly, kicking Raoul's feet wider apart with a gasp from the Vicomte. "I want you to see her."

As if on cue, Christine strolled onto the stage, scarf wrapped around her arms and beautiful brown locks cascading down her back. Oh, she was beautiful, indeed.

He made a noise when strong hands pulled him up straight, then he stilled when Erik's slender frame pressed flush against his back. He could feel the man's hardness against the low of his back and a hot flush reddened his cheeks.

"Keep your eyes on her, Vicomte," the baritone whispered in Raoul's ear, followed closely by the flick of his tongue and a nibble of his lips.

Raoul immediately struggled to do just that, eyes fluttering as Erik's hands steadied on his waist and then slid up to his abdomen, his chest. A hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed, and he whimpered, pants feeling tighter with every passing second.

As if Erik had read Raoul's mind his free hand slithered down to nudge under the waistcoast and touch the suspenders holding Raoul's slacks up. With practised ease he undid them. He unceremoniously shoved Raoul's pants and underpants down to his thighs, enough for the cool air to breeze over his still hardening cock.

Raoul whimpered feebly, leaned heavily against the sturdy man behind him.

"Eyes, Vicomte," Erik growled into his ear, smirking when Raoul's eyes shot open and settled once again on the singing Christine.

"Oh—" Raoul gasped when Erik's ungloved hand wrapped around his cock. "Oh, God," he breathed hotly, already moving into the tight pressure and dropping his head back against Erik, eyes heavy-lidded. Erik's lips grazed his neck, then his tongue lapped at the exposed skin before he sucked. Hard. Raoul grunted and then gasped. "Wait—"

Bastard. He had intended to leave a hickey there.

Raoul's eyes screwed shut and he bit his lips at the sudden surge of pure arousal making his cock twitch inside Erik's skilful hand. He exhaled a hot breath and his hands twitched behind his back, his shoulders aching. If he flexed his fingers he could graze at Erik's own erection pressed firmly between the two of them.

This elicited a terribly dangerous yet thrilling growl, and Erik bucked into the ghostly touch before firmly bending Raoul over and once again pressing his face into the balustrade.

Raoul's heart leapt and a strangled gasp escaped him, could only imagine what Erik was thinking. A small voice told him to be scared, that he was absolutely vulnerable like this, but then again… hadn't he been just as vulnerable the first time? He had allowed it then, too. He swallowed thickly, taking his eyes off the stage where Christine was still singing and glancing behind to Erik.

Golden, dangerous eyes met Raoul's, and Erik simply scoffed as he took off his hat and placed it carefully on the chair. He reached inside a hidden pocket and pulled out a small bottle of liquid.

Raoul tensed, eyes widening ever so slightly. He had heard the hushed stories at night, seen it in nooks of the ships, and had come very, very close to doing the same. But now it was here in front of him, and—

He groaned when a slick finger pressed inside, and without thinking he pushed back onto it, mind for once quiet.

"What's this," Erik's velvet voice said much as he had a week ago, curling his finger slightly and grinning when Raoul's back arched. "So eager for me that you cleaned yourself?"

Embarrassment heated his cheeks at the spoken truth and Raoul murmured nothing in particular as he tried to hide his face from Erik's scrutinising gaze. His arms strained against the binds, longed to touch at least himself and get some relief for his dripping and aching cock neglected.

"Raoul."

Raoul gasped, a cold sweat juxtaposing the pure heat bursting within him. His cock jerked and for a moment he feared he had come already from the sheer intimacy of hearing his name falling from Erik's sinful lips. God, his baritone sent a shiver down his spine and had him completely undone.

"Did you clean yourself for me?"

How cruel was fate that she had him answer this embarrassing and confronting question.

Erik thrust in a second finger and Raoul reeled, arching his back and gasping before pushing straight back onto it, tried to ride the moving digits and find some kind of release.

"Raoul."

Like some incessant nagging from God Himself, Erik repeated Raoul's name, impatient and punishing fingers ceasing movement.

Raoul whined and rolled his hips to try and get any kind of pleasure despite the lack of movement. When Erik didn't relent and instead firmly gripped his hips, he grunted and exhaled. "Yes!" he breathed, words slurring out in a haze of want and lust. "I— I fucking love your hands on me, your voice…" He whined and felt a heated blush rise to his cheeks with embarrassment, hating that he didn't even have his hands to bury himself in.

"Such a slut."

Groaning, he screwed his eyes shut and harshly bit his lips just when Erik slipped in a third slicked finger, fucking him raw and open with just that. Then, they curved and his back arched with them, the Vicomte letting out a strangled cry that was immediately muffled with Erik's free hand. Raoul's legs trembled and he heaved into Erik's hand, eyes wide as he tried to understand what just happened.

Erik's hand disappeared from Raoul's mouth and instead found his cock, wrapping around the hardened flesh and giving a few strong jerks, spreading the precum over his shaft. He swiped his thumb over the tip and squeezed, dark eyes watching over Raoul's strained face. "Tell me, Raoul," he purred on a low whisper. "Do you want to come like this?"

Raoul nodded immediately, breathing in quick gasps. "Please."

"Not in my mouth?"

Cursed be God, for with another strangled cry he came, shooting his seed all over Erik's hand and the floor as he slumped to the ground and sucked in the damp air around them. He felt dizzy, lightheaded, as Erik's fingers retreated and the presence overall faded. Panicked, he started to turn. "Erik—"

"Shush, Vicomte." And it hurt for Raoul to not hear his name over his lips once more. "I am still here."

He relaxed, though still panted for air as his intense orgasm slowly faded away. His arms still ached behind him, but he found he didn't care too much. Something about being bound like this by Erik—being at his mercy—absolutely unraveled him.

Erik returned with a handkerchief and crouched in front of Raoul to carefully clean him up, eyes dark and an unmistakeable bulge in his slacks that Raoul blatantly stared at. The spectre tucked the handkerchief aside and started to get up.

"Wait—" Raoul gasped on short breath, struggling to sit up properly yet trying all the same. "Let me— I mean… You—" He fumbled over his words, cheeks once again reddening and heating up. But, he was a man on a mission. "Let me suck your cock, monsieur."

The Phantom let out a dry laugh, though licked his lips and faced the Vicomte once more as if considering it. He eyed down at the debauched man slumped on the floor and tilted his head.

With a challenging tilt of his chin upwards Raoul met the man's dark gaze, a fire in his eyes.

Erik crouched back down and grabbed Raoul's chin between his thumb and index finger, staring deeply into his eyes as if looking into the blond's very soul. With a small noise he let him go. "What a curious man you are, Vicomte."

Frustratedly Raoul nudged forwards, inching closer to Erik still there. "God damn it, Erik, untie me and let me help you."

The Phantom chuckled, a dark and foreboding noise that sent shivers down Raoul's spine. "I have assaulted you thrice now, Vicomte," he purred wickedly, grin widening at Raoul's shaky breath. "Yet you ask me if you can suck my cock?" A cold finger swiped at Raoul's lips and pushed slightly inside to meet his tongue. He grumbled when Raoul licked his finger, their stare not breaking.

"Perhaps next time I'll fuck you."

Raoul stilled, wide-eyed and pupils blown to the edge of his irises.

"Yes, perhaps I will." Erik retreated his finger and stood once more, straightening his waistcoat. He looked back down at Raoul as he put his own finger in his mouth, as if wanting to taste Raoul's saliva. He hummed and took his hat, and Raoul panicked once more trying to get up.

"My binds—! Erik, I—"

Erik met his mouth as he dragged him up to his feet, bloated and cool lips clashing against Raoul's in an intense kiss that had Raoul's knees weak. His tongue nudged inside, tasted him, and his teeth tugged at his lips almost painfully so, yet there was a tenderness in the kiss that had Raoul's mind reeling and his toes curling.

The Phantom parted, pulling away with the silk fabric in his hands before tucking it away in a pocket.

Raoul stared at him, licking his lips and tasted him still. He could already feel his cock's growing interest once again and he blinked. "Erik—"

"However much I would like to make you come a second time again," he purred, ghosting his fingertips over Raoul's still exposed cock with a reverent shudder from the blond. "I have business to attend to."

"Please," Raoul sputtered out before he truly realised. "I just— let me…"

Erik leaned in once again for a kiss, rougher now, amd holding Raoul's chin once more. "Perhaps next time, Vicomte," he said quietly onto his lips, and then turned with a swish of his cloak and vanished into the darkness.

Raoul stumbled before he steadied himself on the chair as he gasped and then sat down, chest heaving.

What was he doing?