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Emptiness	By : Josephine1881 Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Slash Views: 8257 -:- 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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Chapter Twenty-Five

Looking around me, I saw that we had ended up in the sitting room. A fire was crackling in the fireplace, and there were several lamps lit, which gave the room a nice, warm atmosphere. I could only guess that Erik had left everything burning when he had gone to meet me, assuming he wouldn’t be away for long. At first, that action struck me as careless, which was not like him at all, but then I saw that the fire was burning rather low.

Erik closed the door behind me and walked over to the fireplace, adding logs. It was good of him to do so, for I was still trembling slightly. I tried hard to concentrate on my role, but I simply couldn’t forget what had just happened in the torture chamber. If Erik hadn’t saved me, I’d have surely gone insane. It had been such a narrow escape…

But I had to pull myself together now. I had shown Erik very clearly that I wanted to continue our game, so I couldn’t just stand there, trembling. I had to do something. The sooner I started pretending that nothing had happened, the sooner I’d forget. And I knew only too well that no sensation helped me forget anything else as effectively as feeling his lips on mine.

Yet in order to achieve that, I had to go on playing, and in my case, playing meant trying to escape. I took a few more moments to focus on what I had to feel. I was the Vicomte, trapped by my worst enemy, the infamous Phantom. If I stayed here, he’d do unspeakably terrible things with me. The mere thought of those things made blood flood my nether regions. Now I was ready.

I ran over to the door and pushed down the handle. It wasn’t locked, but I pretended that it was.

“Let me out!” I called, making my voice sound angry. “Let me out at once!”

“No,” Erik said simply. He turned away from the fire. I could see that his left cheek was flushed from the heat, but the mask was as white and clean as ever.

He crossed the room with a few quick strides and leaned against the door, blocking the exit. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up at him. I was afraid of drowning in those startlingly bright eyes. They were shining, not with tears, but with pure lust, giving them the appearance of molten gold. I swallowed hard. I had never seen anything that appealing.

“Afraid, are we?” he asked tauntingly, although I was sure that he knew what I was feeling, and it was not fear.

He suddenly stepped sideways and walked away from the door. I blinked stupidly, puzzled by the abrupt loss of eye contact. It was as if his golden eyes were still staring at me out of the door I was now gazing at. I pulled myself away from it and turned around as he went on:

“There is no reason to be afraid… not yet. I just want to talk to you.”

“Talk?” I repeated, truly surprised. I had expected an activity far less innocent than talking. Remembering my role, I added defiantly: “Why should I want to talk to you? And what should we talk about? I doubt that a Vicomte and a madman can find a topic of conversation.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be able to think of something,” he assured me smoothly, waving a dismissive hand. “But first… why don’t you sit down?”

He gestured at the divan and two armchairs. Since our little adventure on the divan was still fresh on my mind, I chose an armchair. I didn’t want to give him the wrong kind of ideas. But then, I strongly suspected he already had the wrong kind of ideas.

Smirking, Erik sat down in the other armchair. It was only then that I noticed just how closely the two chairs were standing next to each other. If it hadn’t been for the armrests between us, we could as well have sat on the divan.

“So,” I said briskly. “What do you want to talk about? It has to be very important, or you wouldn’t have wasted your valuable time abducting me.” I tried a smirk as well, but I doubted that it looked as impressive as his.

“Yes, it is rather important,” he agreed in a business-like voice. “I’d like to know why you’re following me around in the opera.”

“I’m following you?” I asked, taken by surprise yet again. The speed in which he was making up our story was a little too much for me. Still I tried my best to catch up with him. “Oh yes, I’m following you,” I said, nodding. “I… I want to keep an eye on you. I want to know what you’re up to.” I gave him a triumphant smile, glad that I had had an idea that quickly.

“I don’t think that’s the true reason,” he told me flatly. “You want to keep an eye on me, yes, but not because you think I’m up to something. You simply enjoy watching me.” He dropped his business-like tone, and his voice became a whisper. “You love following me around, watching me walk, listening to my voice. You see me touch objects on my way and wonder what those fingers would feel like on you, the cool leather on your flushed skin.”

Without breaking eye contact, he let his hand stroll over to my thigh, his fingers drawing patterns on my trousers. My breathing was laboured, and by now, my skin was definitely flushed, just like he had said. The fire Erik had kindled in the fireplace was nothing compared to the one he was just kindling inside me. It felt like a fever, the most pleasant fever in the world.

“You hear me speak to others…” he went on, his voice almost a drawl. “…and wonder what my voice would sound like speaking other words, words the likes of which no one has ever used in our presence before, words you’ve only imagined in long, lonely nights, words that would make your skin crawl with desire and fill your body with fire. And then you imagine words and touches combined, and you can hardly bear going on walking behind me, for you’d much rather pounce on me like a wild beast, fulfilling your deepest needs, your most carnal urges.”

His fingers moved up to my thigh and began to stroke my manhood, which was hard and begging to be touched. I had had no idea which effect mere words could have on me. His hand was trailing my length, up and down and up and down.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Oh yes…”

He took his hand away. He actually took his hand away. I stared at him, feeling as if I had to cry out in frustration. Why on earth had he stopped?

“But that’s not what this is about,” he said pleasantly. “It’s not about your desires and needs. It’s about me. You desire me, the one you’ve always hated, and nothing will happen until you admit it. Say it! Say that you want me!”

I tore my gaze away from his face and looked down at his lap. I saw the bulge in his trousers and could tell that he was even harder than me. It was then that I understood how badly he needed this moment of absolute power over me, and I was more than willing to give it to him.

“I want you!” I blurted out. “I want you so much!”

This time, I had done it right. I had said the right thing, and the reward was instant. Erik jumped up from his seat so quickly that his motions were blurred in front of my eyes. He seized my hands and pulled me to my feet as well, only to throw me down onto the carpet a moment later, after a heated kiss. A very distant part of my mind registered a dull pain as I landed on my back, but it was erased at once by overwhelming lust.

I could have never imagined that it was possible to want someone the way I wanted him. My whole being was focused on the man now towering over me. He was staring down at me, his arms outstretched in an imposing gesture and his mask glowing. It was a sight both frightening and arousing. My whole body was shaking with desire. I felt as if I’d explode if he didn’t touch me at once.

“Come to me…” I whispered, suppressing a desperate sob. “Please…”

“And what do you want me to do with you, Vicomte?” he asked, his breath coming out hard and fast.

This time, I didn’t have to think about the answer. It was right there, on the tip of my tongue.

“Everything,” I replied, throwing him a pleading glance. “Anything… whatever you want…”

I didn’t know whether I was speaking as the Vicomte or as myself, but I didn’t think it mattered just now. Erik or the Phantom or whoever he was at the moment needed to hear that I was willing to give myself to him, that I’d let him do everything with me. And in that second, I wanted him to do everything with me. I wanted to belong to him, once and for all times.

“Whatever I want, Vicomte?” he repeated, licking his lips in a most delicious way that made me wonder whether my trousers had always been this tight. “Oh, I want so many things. I’ll make you mine, Vicomte. I’ll make sure that you’ll never forget me.”

And without further ado, he jumped on top of me. Hadn’t he been talking about my wish to pounce at him like a wild beast before? I could have never been as wild as he was. He clawed at my clothes and tore off buttons, his lips meeting mine in a kiss so forceful that it took my breath away.

I had unleashed a power I could have never imagined, not only in him, but also in myself. I returned the kiss just as hungrily, sucking at his bottom lip with bruising force and not even caring that our jaws bumped against each other more than once. The pain only made the other sensations more intense. My hands were holding his head in place, lest he should dare break the kiss.

I was just about to move my right hand a little when I felt that it had got tangled in something at his head. Angry about the interruption, I brought my fingers to the front. I pulled back for a moment to free my hand… and gasped as I saw the damage I had done. What I had taken to be a strand of Erik’s hair had in truth been the ribbon holding his mask in place. By tugging at it, I had not only removed the mask, but also his wig. Both had landed on my by now bare chest.

I was suddenly facing a nearly bald, ugly old man. Nothing of the imposing predator was left. With that one wrong motion, I had torn the illusion we had been building up so carefully. Erik was gazing down at me in shock, his chest heaving and falling in time with his rapid breath. He looked as though he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Then he seemed to pull himself together. Stretching out his hand, he muttered, almost feverishly:

“Just give me one moment. I can fix it. I can make it all right again. Just one moment, and we’ll be ready to go on.”

He reached for the mask, but I caught him by the wrist.

“No,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to go on like this.”

“What?” he whispered, without as much as a trace of his usual eloquence. “Why?”

I felt his arm tremble under my grasp, and a rush of something much more powerful than lust shook my body. It was pure, unadulterated love.

“I don’t want to go on like this because I don’t want you to go on hiding,” I explained softly. “This will be our first time, and I want it to happen between you and me, not between the Phantom and the Vicomte as part of a game. I did enjoy everything that we’ve done so far, but it has to end now. No more hiding, Erik. I want to give myself to the man I love, and that is you.”

Silence followed my words. A tear made its way down his right cheek. I caught it, my tongue gliding over the twisted flesh. I no longer felt the slightest bit of revulsion. Just like the pain of being thrown to the floor had been erased by lust, any trace of fear or disgust was swallowed by love.

“You’re beautiful, Erik,” I whispered, meaning it. “Make love to me. Please…”
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Emptiness