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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.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: See Chapter One!

Chapter Thirty-Seven

If I had met Philippe that day, I might just have told him about Erik and me. Merely putting it into words in front of Erik had left me positively elated. However, minutes after my bold statement, we heard excited voices in the downstairs corridor, followed by the entrance door opening and slamming shut. My brother couldn’t even leave the house quietly.

“Now he’s gone,” I commented.

Erik smiled.

“So the house is all yours,” he remarked. “Would you care to show me around?”
I nodded readily. I knew my brother. If he had taken the two girls to a bar or a similar place, they would not return until the crack of dawn. Erik and I would have the house to ourselves for hours.

I opened the door of my bedroom and led him outside.

“This is my part of the house,” I told him. “You already know my bedroom, of course... The bathroom is next to it... There’s my study...” I pointed out the doors to him as we walked past them.

Erik didn’t show any particular interest in my bathroom, but he went right into the study.

It was not a very big room. Philippe’s study was about twice its size, which was somewhat ironic, given how little time he spent in it. The room had once been a guestroom, and my brother had been strongly against turning it into a study for me. Fortunately, my sisters had supported me.

I told Erik the story. He scowled, but held back a remark. Instead, he had a good look at the bookshelves. Most of my collection of fiction was in my bedroom, but I had an impressive amount of books on ships and the sea, which I had inherited from my grandfather. I also possessed quite a few books on foreign countries. Those seemed to be of great interest to Erik. He chose a collection of stories about life in India.

“Have you ever been there?” he asked over the top of the book.

“In India?” I said with a little laugh. “Oh no. I’ve never been much abroad, except on my naval expeditions, and I have to admit I didn’t see a lot of the countries on those occasions.”

Erik nodded.

“And still you’ve got a book that comes from that part of the world,” he remarked.

“Oh, more than one,” I replied, pointing at the shelf behind him. “I’ve got at least a dozen.”

“I don’t mean those,” he said, putting the book back. To my surprise, I saw that he was smirking. “I’m talking about a rather different book... one that I found in your bedroom.”

I frowned. As far as I could recall, there were no books on India in my bedroom.

“This one,” Erik finished.

With a flourish, he pulled something out from under his cloak. I recognised the manuscript I had bought the day before in that peculiar bookshop.

My brow furrowed even more as I tried to comprehend how Erik could have gotten hold of that manuscript. I vaguely remembered that I had put it into the inside pocket of my coat. I supposed that it had fallen out when we had undressed, or that Erik had found it in my pocket when he had been alone in the room. Either way, it was highly embarrassing.

“I... I didn’t know it was from India,” I stammered. It was the first thing I could think of. “And anyway, I just wanted to... you know... be prepared for... well, being with you... and...”

Erik cut short my stammering by kissing me on the lips.

“You don’t have to justify yourself,” he said gently. “That’s not why I showed it to you. It was just such a curious coincidence to see it again.”

“Again?” I repeated. “You’ve seen it before?”

“Oh yes,” he replied. “As a matter of fact, I was the one who translated it into French. I wrote several copies, one of which I left in a bookshop, so it would be enjoyed by others. I suppose that is where you got it from, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“I didn’t know you went into that kind of shop,” I commented, feeling much less embarrassed.

“I’ve been there many times,” he said. “The owner is a despicable man, but his shop is unique in Paris, and...” He gave a little laugh that sounded almost embarrassed. “Well, let me assure you that in theory, I know all that can happen between a man and a woman... or between two men, naturally. My practical knowledge, however, remains woefully inadequate.”

It was strange to hear Erik speak like that. He often was cynical, but I had never heard him speak about himself with such obvious dislike. Quickly, I wrapped my arms around him in a tight embrace.

“That’s not true,” I whispered. “You’re not inadequate in any way. You’re a wonderful lover. I couldn’t ask for a better one.”

Erik returned the embrace with such force that for a moment, I found it hard to breathe. I knew it was his way of saying ´Thank you´, and I tried my best to enjoy it, even though it made my ribs ache in protest.

After a few kisses, Erik released me again.

“Did you find the manuscript helpful at all?” he wanted to know.

“Not really,” I replied truthfully. “The parts I read were interesting enough, but when I was actually... you know, doing things with you, I kind of forgot about it and just did what I thought would make you feel good.”

I looked at Erik anxiously, but he was smiling.

“It was the same for me,” he admitted. “I had read so much about the subject, I had done so much research, but it didn’t help me a lot. I just watched you and saw how you reacted to what I did, and then I kept doing what you seemed to enjoy most.”

“And it worked,” I told him. “You’ve made me feel better than I ever made myself feel before.”

Erik’s smile turned into a smirk.

“Would you like me to make you feel good again?” he asked innocently.

“Oh yes,” I answered eagerly. I leaned in to kiss him, but he shook his head.

“I have a special idea,” he said, taking me by the hand. He led me out of the room and into the corridor. “Where does your brother live?” he wanted to know.

I stopped dead.

“Philippe is not home,” I reminded him. “And anyway, I don’t want to... do anything with you in front of him. Why should I?”

I searched Erik’s face for clues that he was pulling one of his famous pranks, but the smirk was still firmly in place. He seemed dead serious.

“I know he’s not home,” he said. “But I want to go to his room. I want to take you right in his bed.”

I gaped at him. The idea was absurd... and yet...

“Think about it, Raoul,” Erik told me in a low, seductive voice. “Think of all the girls who have ended up in your brother’s bed. Think of what he asked you to do today. He said that he wants you to enjoy yourself, didn’t he? Well, you will enjoy yourself – just not in the way he planned it.” He ended his explanation with a satisfied little nod.

A smile spread across my face. The more I heard about the idea, the more I liked it. Philippe would never know what we had done, but I would know it. Every time he’d try to tell me what to do, how to live my life, I’d smile and remember what I had done in his bed with the man I loved. I sensed that it would be a very powerful weapon against Philippe.

“Yes...” I muttered. “Yes... let us do it... now!”

Erik beamed at me.

“So, where do we have to go?” he asked. “This direction or that one?”

“We should go back to my bedroom first,” I suggested. “You know, to get the bottle of lubricant...”

“No need for that,” Erik remarked cheerfully. “I’ve got it right here.” He patted his pocket. “I always like being prepared.”

“You sly old dog, you!” I exclaimed, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder.

Before he could react, I sprinted a few steps, then waited for him to catch up. It didn’t take him long. For a man his age, he was in a very good physical condition. If this was what came from being the Opera Ghost, I didn’t object to it.

We continued our journey down the corridor in a completely disorderly fashion. Whenever Erik caught up with me, he gave me a rough kiss or touched me in a way that left me completely exhilarated. I’d then break free and run away again, only to let him catch me again a minute later. It was like a highly arousing version of a children’s game.

As we went past door after door, I hastily pointed out the functions of the rooms to Erik. After a few minutes, we reached the part of the house that was my brother’s and slowed down at last.

“That’s Philippe’s bathroom... his study... a little kitchen... a guestroom, in case he invites more girls that he can manage at the same time... another guestroom... and this is his bedroom,” I said, coming to a halt in front of it.

Erik opened the door and let us inside.

Philippe’s bedroom was one of the biggest rooms in the house. Among other things, it was equipped with the most enormous bed I had ever seen anywhere. It was so big that three or four people could have easily slept in it... which, according to Philippe, had happened more than once. Thanks to one of the maids, the bed was made and spotlessly clean.

Before I could take in any more details of the room, however, Erik had picked me up in his arms and laid me down on the bed.

“My beautiful Raoul,” he all but purred.

I reached up to open his shirt, but he shook his head.

“Let me do it,” he said. “Just enjoy...”

He undressed me and himself. He did it slowly, but I knew him so well that I felt the underlying urgency in each of his motions. He wanted me as much as I wanted him.

At last, we were completely undressed. We shared a few kisses, but Erik quickly moved into lower regions of my body. I was shivering with anticipation.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for hours,” he claimed before his lips closed around the tip of my manhood.

For a fleeting moment, I thought how peculiar it was that Erik was doing what a hundred girls must have done for my brother in that very bed. Quickly, however, every thought was erased from my mind. Erik’s lips and tongue on me simply felt too good.

It was true that Erik had only learned how to give pleasure from books, but that did not mean that he was bad at what he did. He seemed to remember every moment of when he had pleasured me last time, and he used his knowledge of my reactions back then to improve his performance this time.

Before long, I was moaning and panting, my manhood pulsing between Erik’s lips. I was so close to my release... when all of a sudden, Erik stopped and straightened up.

“Not yet,” he said with a wicked smile. “I don’t want it to happen until I’m inside you.”

I nodded impatiently and reached for the bottle of lubricant, which Erik had placed on the bedside table. To my surprise, I found his member already hard and throbbing with need when I approached it with my slippery fingers. I stroked it, gently at first, then more quickly, encouraged by his moans.

After a little while, Erik stopped me... with difficulty, it seemed. I got down on my hands and knees, even though I felt a little anxious about what was to come. I wondered whether it would feel as strange as when we had first done it. Yet it turned out I needn’t have worried. Before Erik as much as touched my backside, he reached under me and seized my manhood. Distracted by the sensation of his slippery hand, I barely noticed what the fingers of his other hand were doing. He made it very simple for me to feel comfortable.

“Easy now,” Erik muttered.

I could only assume that he was talking to himself, for I wasn’t doing anything except enjoying myself. I grew a little tense at his words, but his fingers had prepared me well. He didn’t hurt me. It still was a strange sensation to feel him inside me, but it was enjoyable, too.

“Is it... all right?” he asked, his hot breath tickling my skin.

“Yes...” I replied. “Yes... I think you can move now...”

And move he did. It did feel very peculiar at first. Once he had established a steady rhythm, however, he began to move the hand on my manhood again. The rhythm was just right, not too slow and not too fast. It felt amazing.

Between Erik’s hand on my member and Erik’s member filling me, I couldn’t last long. With a wild moan, I found my release. Moments later, Erik came as well, and we collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. We were too exhausted to talk, but we beamed at each other.

“We should better go,” Erik said, once we had regained our breath.

“Go?” I repeated, making a face. I didn’t feel like going anywhere. I was much too warm and comfortable here. “Don’t worry about Philippe,” I added defiantly. “If he comes back and finds us, I’ll... I’ll just tell him what has happened. I’ll tell him that the man I love and I decided to enjoy ourselves in his bed.”

Erik smiled, but shook his head.

“As much as I’d love to hear you say that to your brother, I don’t think it’s such a good idea just now,” he told me. “Look at you. You’re naked, you’re sweaty, and you’re tired. It is one of the basic rules for arguments: If you are facing a confrontation, make sure you’re in a good position. And this can hardly be called a good position.”

“You didn’t complain about the position fifteen minutes ago,” I reminded him with a grin. “But all right. I understand what you mean. Let us go.”

With a lot of sighing and groaning, we heaved our sleepy limbs out of bed and tidied up behind us. There was nothing we could do about the stains I had left on the sheets, but we didn’t care. Knowing Philippe, he’d stumble back to his room completely drunk, and by the time he’ be sober again, he’d probably think the stains had been made by him.

Neither of us could see any point in getting dressed properly, only to get undressed again in my room, so we borrowed two dressing gowns from Philippe’s wardrobe. We put them on and took our clothes with us as we left. At the last moment, Erik remembered to fetch the bottle of lubricant.

Our way back to my part of the house was long and slow. We were much too sleepy to play games this time. The moment the door to my bedroom was closed behind us, we shrugged off the dressing gowns and climbed into bed.

My mattress had rarely felt so soft and inviting. Yet even more inviting was Erik’s embrace, which I settled into with a smile. Still smiling, I reached over to him and took off his mask, placing it on the bedside table.

Erik was smiling now, too.

“You’re an extraordinary man, Raoul,” he whispered.

The face of my beautiful lover was swallowed by darkness as I extinguished the light.
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Emptiness