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An Old Fashioned Dream	By : LillyFair Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 3171 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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I do not own anything except the images that my immagination produces. Phantom of the Opera does not belong to me. Have fun reading.

I'm trying to combine aspects Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay, The Musical, and The Movie into one piece of work. This story is a physiological aspect of everyone that was involved in the Phantom's Layer; no one is left unscarred. I know that Raoul may appear to be out of character, but in Chapter 4 I explain what happened to him, and why.

AN OLD FASHIONED DREAM

He stood there watching her from the darkness of the shadows. He knew that she was out of his life, but he had promised himself that after she left he would watch over her, and take care of her like a true angel. For as long as he had breath in his body he would make sure she was safe.

“I suppose she is happy," he muttered sadly into the empty night. He glared at the back of her beautiful blond hair and wished he could reach through the window and touch the cascade of curls that fell to below her waist. Sitting in only her chemise he was able to see the sensual curve of her back, the swell of her tiny breasts and her petite tiny waist.

His body longed to put his arms around her again; he would give up his life to simply caress that soft skin of her face. He became jealous of the wooden brush that she held in her small delicate hand as it shuffled through the length of her tresses. That brush, an object of so little importance could be so close to his beloved while he was condemned to a life of exile from her.

If he lingered outside her window any longer a passionate madness would surly overtake him making him break in and claim her in that luxurious four-poster. And image of a creamy thigh wrapped around his waist, and her cry of pleasure once again invaded his imagination. The movement of her brushing her hair again brought him back to the present.

He had seen her so many times at the opera house brushing her hair with that same distant expression. Was she thinking of her angel, her poor unfortunate Erik, or of that damned boy? Did she even think of him at all?

He took one last longing gaze at her seductive form ready to give anything to know what she was thinking at that moment. He knew he could no longer control his desire for her, therefore he left her to her thoughts and hastily made his way home, to his new home.

Christine looked sharply into the mirror, she thought she had seen a figure lurking within the glass. She quickly turned around at the window and thought she saw a dark figure leap off the weeping willow tree and disappear into the night. If there had been someone at the window, there was no question of who it could have been.

Seeing him, or thinking she saw him almost made her heart jump out of her chest…but why did it jump. She was married to Raoul; she shouldn’t be thinking of Erik, let alone hoping that he would be at her window.

“Angel.”, she replied softly. A tear slid down her cheek as she thought of her angel. She remembered the countless times she sat at the opera wishing her angel would be watching her, hoping she would secretly catch him watching her brush her hair, or change into her costume.

Even just the thought of her standing naked in front of her angel made her blush. She missed him terribly, she missed his voice, his music, his friendship, his touch.

“His touch!” she said out loud shocked at herself for the thought. “Where did that come from?” Suddenly her mind and her senses went to the memory of that kiss. Their kiss that night; how she was haunted by his kiss.

The way his hands stroked her hair; and the way he caressed her body. The fierce passion in his lips and his tongue, yet the almost musical gentility in his movements made her weak just from the memory and he hadn’t even touched her bare skin. An image of Erik’s fingers caressing her body, and stroking her innermost area, aroused her senses. She sighed with pleasure of just the thought.

Suddenly, without warning, Raoul shot through her bedroom door. Shocked at his early return, and her infidelity of thought, she leaped herself away from the mirror. She had never been this nervous around Raoul, but something had changed in him; he was not the carefree boy that she had come to love.

He was changing, they were growing apart, but she didn’t know where or when it started. It was as if something horrible was plaguing his mind, haunting him every waking moment. He wouldn't reveal anything to her about it, as if he couldn’t trust her. Sometimes he treated her like a common whore rathern than a wife. She did not know how to act around him any more. Especially after last time when she asked him what was wrong. She would NEVER make that mistake again.

“What are you doing!” He asked in a harsh voice.

“Nothing”, She stammered. It was like he knew what she had just been thinking.

“Just brushing my hair.” There was a long pause between them and she noticed that he seemed even more distressed than usual. She couldn’t take this awkwardness any longer.

For so many months she was afraid of Erik because she was afraid he might have harmed her, even though she knew too late that he would never lay a finger on her to hurt her. She would not put herself in that same harmful relationship again. She knew she shouldn’t ask, but her curious nature would not allow herself to let this go a second time. She would defend herself this time if she had to.

“What is wrong Raoul? I cannot help you, unless I know what is always upsetting you so?”, Christine's voice quivered and almost sounded frightened.

“Relax dear wife.” He said in his normal calm and soothing voice, “There is no reason why you should be tense.”

“I’m not tense I was just going to ask you where you went tonight, that is all.” She still was frightened and her voice quivered, but this time Raoul did not notice the fear in her voice. Instead he was looking at Christine with an angry expression.

“I went to the Opera, my love, as if it is any concern of yours.”

Christine flinched at his term of endearment, there was malice in his tone, and her fear of him began to rise.
He sensed her submission and walked behind her, looking at their reflection in her vanity. He started to message her shoulders, then his hands traveled to her face, softly caressing her silky skin.

“Everyone is so beside themselves that you will not be returning this season, and as principal patron I have made it my duty to find a suitable replacement." Christine watched in the mirror as his hands traveled down around her face, around her neck, and then finally inside her chemise. He kissed her neck, and gently touched the curve of her breast, feeling the nipple harden under his touch. Just the way it should he thought.

"So, I have been assigned to find someone new to take the place of our most beautiful star Christine de Changy.”,

“Raoul!” She said freeing himself from his assault. “You know I would gladly return to the theater. It is you who forbid me to even to speak about returning again. Christine knelt on the ground to plead with him, maybe this was her chance to get back to the Opera house, she missed all of her friends, including Erik.

“Please let me return. We could bring in people by the thousands if only you would….” Suddenly out of nowhere the hands that were just so gentle and arousing, shot out and struck her across the face. Christine stumbled backwards not knowing what to do.

“No…I will never allow that…never. If you use that angelic voice of yours then that will be doing exactly what HE wants you to do, and I never want him to satisfied.” He rushed to her and grabbed her by the shoulders roughly to look her straight in the eye, then threw her to the floor.

“Your mine Christine you choose me that unforgettable night and I will have you body, mind, and soul.” Christine gently touched her face, feeling the spot already becoming tender.

As the blood rushed to her cheeks, her anger, and diva-like nature she could no longer hold back filled the room. This was anger for being locked up in a beautiful empty castle, anger from being taken away from her friends, and anger from being taken away from his music.

“Do you think that you can erase away a major part of my life because you simply wish it? You may want me to forget him, you may demand it, but let me tell you something Raoul, I cannot do that."

"You may control my life, you can forbid me to sing at the Opera, or even to go out myself in public, but you cannot control my mind, or my heart, you can’t lay a finger on it. No matter what you do say to discredit him there will always be a place for him in my heart. He was my friend when I had no one, he was someone I turned to, and who listened to me, when no one else would.

"No I have not forgotten he was someone I feared, or someone that murdered. I married you, I chose you, and you cannot just have me erase him from my memory, and that is something that you are going to just have to accept."

Raoul stood there astonished at her words. Several emotions ran through his blood. She was right, she did choose him, and she married him, not Erik. He ran to her and cradled her in his arms for several moments, just rocking her back and forth in his arms. Crying with her.

“I’m so sorry my love. I’m so sorry” He picked her up off the floor and gently placed her on their bed. The soft satin comforter felt so good next her fresh bruises. This needed to stop, she didn’t know how much more she could take. He seemed to get worse by the day.

Raoul sat her up before him, and ever so gently kissed the cheek that just moments before he had slapped. A fresh tear slipped down his face, as he looked at the flesh turn all shades of red, blue, and green. He kissed her swollen lips, and then trailed sweet kisses down her neck. Gracefully and quickly he grabbed her chemise and lifted it over her head, reveling in the body of his beautiful wife.

He trailed his kisses down her throat, and smiled to himself when he heard her gasp as he took her ripe hardened nipple into his mouth. Christine arched her back at his touch, not really in the moment because her body still stung from the bruises he had just given her, but he was her husband, she had to please him, it was her wifely duty, even if he had been cruel.

As Raoul moved to her other breast, she helped him remove his shirt, then his pants. In no time at all they appeared to be like lovers, but as with most things, you cannot judge by appearances.

When Raoul entered her, he felt pride at claiming her, he was sure he could satisfy her much better than Erik ever could. Erik! The thought of her in his arms that night angered him to no end. He had seen her pleasure at his touch, and at his kiss. It had been too much for him to bear, but no he had to endure it, he could do nothing else. Thinking of his rival, he had no idea how rough he had been with Christine; his last thrust was simply too much for her to bear.

“Raoul! Raoul!” Christine panted. “You’re hurting me. Please stop.”

“You are mine Christine, when will you come to admit that.” His arms were held tight around her wrist, and he had just thrust his full weight into her. Her eyes were full of tears, and her wrists were bleeding from his fingernails.

He let go of her and rolled to his side of the bed without a word of an apology. He then tried to hold her in his arms and soothe her tears, but she rolled out of his reach and cried into her pillow. She couldn’t help but wonder if Erik would have been angry and painful when making love, or would he have been the angel that he had always been; making love with Erik, was her last thought before sleep finally claimed her.

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An Old Fashioned Dream