Had anybody asked two weeks ago, he would have decisively said he did not fear the Phantom. Would somebody ask now, that answer would be different, just as the reason for the fear.

Christine had mentioned once how her angel—Erik, the Phantom—seemed to long to have her in his darkness of his house, five layers below ground. To keep her forever and use her for his music. Though Raoul had no music to give, he had realised all of a sudden he did have his body, which Erik—the Phantom, Christine's angel—seemed all too eager to have. He really should tell Christine of Erik's seemingly changed interests, but that would also inquire him to tell her of their sinful meetings, and then surely she would loathe him as she loathed Erik.

God, he feared that spectre. He feared what Erik's dark smirks and golden gazes set aflame within him, his long and deft hands roaming over the Vicomte's body as if he owned him.

Which… he may as well do.

A heated blush rose to Raoul's cheeks. Yes, he would very much like to be exclusively Erik's... Used at the Phantom's whim for his own desire, that black silk around Raoul's wrists and his voice growling his name. Three times now he had been taken and used by Erik, and all three times it had felt that had he given the slightest inclination of disliking or said stop… He would have. Erik would have ceased and left, and that realisation was dizzying all on its own.

Christine had spoken so fearfully of her Angel's commanding presence and told him everything of Erik's manipulation and spells within his music. She had lamented at feeling uneasy the moment Raoul had entered her life again, as since that moment her maestro had turned resentful and angry.

Why did none of that show in the Erik that touched Raoul so candidly and easily?

Yet despite the apparent want and desire Raoul experienced towards the strange and dark spectre, Erik promising to fuck him the next time had sent a dagger of cold fear through his heart. Somehow, that would cement this entire thing. Change these meetings to something else, something less tangible in his mind yet clear as day what it truly meant.

And still, he was walking the steps to Box Five, breathless and lightheaded knowing what was to come. He was ready to settle, and that terrified him in its own way. What to do with Christine? No less his title.

He halted in the door frame, uneasily staring at the small table neatly tucked against the wall. That hadn't been there the previous times, and he could guess why it was there. With a thrumming in his veins he closed the door, heart threatening to leave his chest as he stepped towards the chairs. With practised ease he sank down on the velvet softness and exhaled a measured breath.

Idly he watched the house fill with guests, tense body slowly calming at the banality and familiarity of it. Before long the overture would start and Christine would grace the stage once more, comfortable now that the Phantom had gone and left her alone.

He was enjoying the ballet on stage when a black fabric was pulled over his eyes and tied neatly around him. His mouth dried, yet a semblance of arousal stirred within his slacks. "Monsieur?" he whispered uncertainly, blinking into the darkness.

"Listen, Vicomte," came Erik's velvet baritone, soothing hands settling on Raoul's shoulders, touching at his neck, tugging at the cravat, before roaming idly over his chest. "Listen to the music, forget everything else."

Raoul swallowed, finding it quite hard to focus on the music when the dark presence he had come to know as Erik moved in front of him. Deft hands nudged his legs apart and Raoul bit his lips, hands grasping the chair's armrests tighter.

Erik settled between his legs, hands sliding from Raoul's knees inwards towards his thighs, creasing the loose fabric between his leathered fingers and eliciting a breathy whimper from Raoul. "Tell me," he hummed quietly. "Gloves or no gloves?"

Now, that was a question. Something about being touched by Erik with his gloves felt more exciting than anything, like doing something they shouldn't be, hiding away any and all evidence, the leather ever cool. On the other hand, his hands were a masterpiece on their own. Slender, nimble, an orchestra of their own that played their music on Raoul's skin when his cool digits touched Raoul's ever warm and tanned body.

"I cannot choose, Erik," Raoul pleaded softly, shaking his head. "Please, just… your touch alone…"

"Already begging, Vicomte?" Erik chuckled lowly, teasingly ghosting his hands over Raoul's growing hardness. "Must I describe to you your own bodily responses to my hands, gloved and ungloved? Perhaps that way we can come to an answer."

Raoul let out a strangled noise. "You— you've been—?"

"Of course," Erik purred now, inched close enough to Raoul that he could feel his breath onto his lips. "What good is touching you if I do not know what makes you sing? Surely you did not forget my request of you before all of this."

Ah, yes. That was what Erik had wanted right from the beginning—to make him sing that what Christine would not. With heated cheeks Raoul hung his head and closed his eyes. "Please, Erik…"

"My name on your lips is music on its own." His voice betrayed a smirk Raoul could easily envision within the darkness of his blindfold. An ungloved hand cradled his chin and then Erik pressed his thumb against his lips, his slender chest pressed against Raoul's. "Suck for me, little one."

Without question Raoul's lips enveloped Erik's thumb, and excitedly he licked at the cool skin, whimpering around it when Erik started fingering at the buttons of his waistcoat. As if he had done it before he easily unbuttoned the clothing with his one hand, pushing the fabric aside and starting work on Raoul's shirtsleeves, the box full with quiet anticipation.

The cool air of the house chilled Raoul's skin and he inhaled sharply, gasping when Erik's hand lay flat on his usually warm abdomen and touched at the soft skin. He just about managed not to bite at Erik's thumb still in his mouth, to not clench his jaw at the almost painful cold on him.

"Vicomte," he purred on a whisper, ghosting his fingertips over the skin beneath him and revelling at the goosebumps that appeared. "Look at what you are hiding."

If Raoul didn't know any better, he would say Erik was legitimately pleased at his physique, perhaps even marvelling at it. More than anything he wished he could see the look in Erik's sharp eyes now, to decipher what the man could possibly be thinking. Idly, Raoul realised this was the first time either of them had been in this state of undress unrelated to their cocks. Reflexively he jerked his hips up at another wave of dizzying arousal, eyes screwed shut.

A dark chuckle escaped Erik and he seemed to break out of his reverent trance, snapping his hand away from Raoul's mouth and instead exploring the expanse of skin now available. Fingernails grazed his nipples and Raoul arched his back, gasping softly and drooping his head.

"Sensitive," he whispered more to himself than Raoul, then pinched both nipples.

Raoul let out a moan, stifled himself immediately when he remembered his hands were loose. He gasped softly into his hand, eyes heavy. "Erik."

"Raoul."

His heart hammered in his throat and he wet his lips to try and find the courage, his cock hard and aching and so neglected. "Can you— the binds, I—" He closed his eyes as a furious blush rose to his cheeks. "Can you bind my hands?" He barely whispered the request, biting his lips so harshly he feared he would draw blood. Blood Erik would most likely kiss away.

Erik stilled, something Raoul hadn't ever thought possible, and when he spoke he definitely heard glee in his sultry voice. "You wish for me to bind your hands?"

"You make me repeat it?" Raoul murmured heatedly, his fingers twitching onto the chair.

"Yes."

With a frustrated noise Raoul relented and turned his face from Erik's heated glare as if that would save him the embarrassment. "Please bind my hands."

A grumble emanated from Erik as he inched up to Raoul's face, hands roaming as ever over the bare skin. "Explain, little one," he purred, hot breath ghosting over Raoul's face and his sinful voice filled with mischievous glee.

To demonstrate, Raoul grasped Erik's face, feeling over his unmasked side and keeping the masked side steady He pulled him closer, their noses brushing and lips ghosting together. "Erik," he breathed onto his cursed lips, yearning more than ever to see what the man looked like currently. "If my hands remain free I will want to touch and take what I can get. I adore your touch without my input, turn my brain off and focus on you alone. There are too many possibilities if you let me roam free it is overwhelming."

"Very well," he purred onto Raoul's lips and parted, swiftly getting up from his knees. He easily took Raoul's hands and pulled them behind the chair, straining the blond's shoulders as he did. For a moment he touched upon Raoul's hands with a hum, idly feeling over the palm of his hands and touching his fingers before Raoul's wrists were pulled together with a smooth fabric and tightened.

Raoul harshly bit his lips and tilted his head back, exhaling and his cock twitching in his slacks. "Erik," he whispered softly, half hoping the Phantom hadn't heard it, but of course he had.

"What, Raoul?" the man purred in response, hands now touching at Raoul's cheeks, sliding over his jaw and fingers touching his lips.

He simply shook his head and leaned into Erik's touch. He had nothing to say, he just needed to speak Erik's name over and over, like some kind of prayer. Pressure was back between his legs and Raoul reflexively looked downwards, breath halting as Erik's hands skilfully undid his slacks. His cock ached and his gut heated all over again, confident that his release was now closer than ever. He bucked up towards Erik's hands and bit his lips. "Please…" he muttered breathlessly. "Please, Erik."

"You beg so deliciously, Raoul," Erik purred lightly, hands sliding up and down his thighs. "What do you want, little one?"

"Your mouth—!" Raoul gasped when Erik palmed him, touching his length beneath his drawers and squeezing the hard flesh. He bucked into the pressure with a strangled noise, fearing he may abuse his lips to bleeding as he hissed through his teeth. "Y-Your mouth— on my cock, Erik, I beg you."

A smug, annoying chuckle came from between his legs and Raoul exhaled a hot breath, dropping his head backwards. "Please," he murmured into the air, chest heaving. Without another word Erik moved for him to raise his hips and he did so eagerly, breathless as his slacks and underpants were pulled down and away from his heated crotch. He hadn't actually expected Erik to listen to his needy pleas, but it seemed he actually did. The mere thought alone had his cock twitch, and Erik made a noise in response.

"So eager, Raoul." His cool hand wrapped around Raoul's stiff cock and Raoul positively mewled from the sudden sensation.

Erik chuckled, his hot breath so much nearer to Raoul's cock than he had expected. His hands flexed against the constraints, muscles straining and begging to hold and use. He wet his lips, eyelids heavy. "Erik…"

A hot and wet tongue licked him and slowly traveled up his cock to the tip, and then he was covered in heat and wetness and Raoul bucked straight up.

There was no resistance.

He fought the urge to cry Erik's name out of sheer desperation.

Erik bobbed all the way down with ease, where the cool of his mask and his face found their place onto Raoul's skin and lingered for a moment before he pulled back and sucked on the tip. His hand tugged at the base, his tongue swirling around the rest of him. Then he hummed, and the vibration sent shivers down Raoul's spine. When did the Phantom learn to be this good at sucking cock?

Raoul writhed in the chair, gasping and panting as he tried to fuck up into Erik's mouth, chase that heat lingering at his tip. Erik however held a hand firmly onto his hips and refrained his movement with an almost painful squeeze of his fingers. The hand around his cock disappeared then quickly returned to lie flat on his abdomen, eliciting a hiss from Raoul. How the hell was he still cold? A living corpse, indeed.

Erik travelled his hand up over Raoul's heated skin, mouth still working wonders around his cock. His fingertips grazed Raoul's nipples and the man shuddered beneath him, cock twitching within his mouth. Erik grumbled around it and then pinched those sensitive buds and grunted when the blond bucked up into his mouth once again.

Raoul whimpered, eyes pressed tightly shut. So close so soon—surely a punishment from God Himself for fraternising like this with what was supposed to be his rival. He started shaking his head, gasping. "P-please, Erik, I—"

Surprisingly, Erik listened. With a sickening pop he abandoned Raoul's aching cock, breath heavy. "What is it, little one?" he purred, hands touching over Raoul's bare thighs and sending hot flares of pure pleasure straight up into him.

He felt half delirious, already missing Erik's sickening heat around him yet feeling entirely overwhelmed at his hands ghosting over his skin. He whimpered and tilted his head towards Erik, tears springing to his eyes. "It's… too much…" he breathed on a whisper, embarrassed. "Please, just—"

Erik kissed him, tongue sliding against his lips and masked nose digging into his skin.

Raoul whimpered, eyes sliding closed and mouth moving before he even realised. He leaned forwards as if he could cradle Erik's face, cup his jaw and pull him closer until he could very well breathe the man in and exist in the same space as him.

They parted with a dizzying noise, Raoul acutely aware of his heaving chest and leaking cock. That kiss had been different but he severely lacked the understanding of why.

Erik touched his cock again, lazily wrapping his slender fingers around the base and tugging upwards, eliciting a strangled moan from Raoul. "Raoul," he purred on a whisper, but didn't finish what he seemed to want to say.

Raoul shuddered into his touch, arms tense and aching against his shoulders. He leaned forwards as much as was allowed by his binds, trying to find Erik once again.

Erik denied that notion, bloated lips and heated mouth back onto Raoul's cock and sliding down all the way to the base with ease. His hand touched Raoul's balls and then he lost it.

He bucked into Erik's mouth, hips thrusting upwards as he chased his release, incessant flame in his gut ever growing. He clenched his jaw and inhaled sharply through his teeth, then gasped when his cock met the back of Erik's throat. He grunted, mind reeling at the sick noises of his cock fucking Erik's mouth. God, Erik must look absolutely disheveled now. Raoul could easily envision his bloated lips slick with his own spit and Raoul's precum, his golden and dark eyes looking straight at Raoul's face, straight through the blindfold to meet his hazy and lust-filled eyes. Perhaps the mask was even askew with the exertion, deft hands gripping Raoul's thighs tightly and ushering him ever onwards.

"Fuck—" Raoul cried then. "I'm—"

Erik slammed down to the base, tongue pressed hotly against his shaft and his hand squeezing his balls almost painfully so.

With another jerk of his hips Raoul finally released, letting out a mewl that was muffled by Erik's hand as his cock twitched into his mouth and spilled his seed. Panting, he slumped into the chair, eyes shut and body absolutely spent. Then, he felt Erik's mouth move and, oh God—he was swallowing. Erik was swallowing down his seed. Raoul gasped softly, mouth agape at the realisation. "Erik, you—"

"Shush," came his hushed and rough voice, still at Raoul's knees. His hand touched soothingly over his thighs. "Consider it an apology for my abrupt departure last time," he hummed, velvet baritone thrumming through Raoul's veins. His other hand was still around his now softening cock, as if ready to strike again.

"Please, Erik, not a— not a second time," Raoul whispered tiredly, breathing slowly steadying. "It is exhausting."

As if deciding on whether to listen or not, Erik gave a stroke, two, and then pulled away at last, Raoul exhaling with relief. "Perhaps another time, Vicomte," he purred wickedly, voice rising with him as he stood.

"Erik."

"What, little one?"

"Let me take care of you." Raoul clenched his jaw, wishing he could actually look at the man and decipher what he could be thinking. "You stopped me last time—"

"And I will stop you now," Erik interrupted softly, thumb wiping at Raoul's lips.

"Why?" Raoul muttered, annoyed more than anything. He wanted to give back—and feel Erik's heavy cock within his mouth once again, his weight on his tongue.

Erik chuckled grimly and ran a hand through Raoul's hair before grasping the blond tightly, angling his head up to gaze at his craned neck. "Consider what happened the first time a lapse of control, Vicomte."

Raoul wet his lips, could feel Erik's gaze on his still exposed body. "And the second time?" The whisper barely left his lips, almost afraid to ask for a reason from the man who had thus far been completely void of one.

"Oh, you try my patience, little one," Erik stuck a finger past Raoul's lips, shutting him up with it. "Let my reasons remain a question, yes? Your mind is much better off not thinking."

Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to respond any further, Raoul made a noise when Erik drew away his finger and shut his mouth. Erik's presence faded from between Raoul's parted legs and then his wrists were tugged as deft hands took off the binds. For a moment the cold skin of Erik soothed at Raoul's strained and aching wrists, and then that was gone too.

He didn't need to guess what would happen next, at this point Erik's leaving a well-oiled machine. He frowned at the light once again reaching his eyes, the blindfold sliding past him before disappearing in the darkness. He didn't even bother turning around to catch a glimpse of the leaving Phantom, knew he wouldn't see him.

He sat a moment more in the chair, disheveled and undressed and his mind reeling, before aching hands started redressing himself.