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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 Six

At about one o’clock I left my room to go down to lunch. I’d have rather stayed where I was, yet my empty stomach reacted in an unmistakable way to the delicious scents that penetrated even the closed door. The low rumbling made it clear that my body demanded food as soon as possible, which was completely normal given the fact that yesterday’s lunch had been the last meal I had eaten.

I went down the stairs with the intention to sit down, eat and leave again with talking as little as I could. Although my outburst had been quite liberating, I didn’t plan to repeat it, particularly for my poor hand’s sake. But then, I couldn’t know what would happen if Philippe provoked me again. It was impossible to tell in which mood he’d be now. It strongly depended on whether Viviana would be in earshot.

Entering the dining room I encountered a pleasant surprise: The girl not only was in earshot, but she was sitting at the table with my brother.

“Raoul!” he greeted me enthusiastically. “I asked Viviana to join us. Two men alone can always do with a little company, can’t they? Especially when the company is this charming…” He beamed at the girl, who blushed deeply.

Settling down I gave her a smile as well. Her presence meant that Philippe would leave me in peace. He’d be too busy acting the gentleman to try and talk to me. It was better than I could have hoped for. Moreover, she truly was a nice girl. It wasn’t her fault that she was the target of my brother’s latest obsession.

The meal itself probably was one of the most pleasant I had ever had with Philippe. I had to do nothing but give a brief comment every now and then, while he was talking and talking, hardly managing to stuff in a forkful of food into his mouth every now and then. Fortunately this meant there was more for me. Viviana’s mother was a fantastic cook, and the fish with potatoes and other vegetables tasted like the best lunch I had eaten in a long time.

It was only when I took my third helping that I noticed how unusual my behaviour was. Since Christine’s death I had hardly eaten at all, often pretending to take food to my room and throwing it away later. This was the first time in days that I had eaten a complete meal, and I actually enjoyed it. Even the white wine was delicious. I only drank one glass, though, because I was afraid it could affect me too strongly, with the little food that had been in my stomach before. And becoming the rebellious drunk brother in Philippe’s opinion was the last thing I wanted.

After dessert, a rich dark chocolate pudding, I excused myself and went back to my room. I couldn’t help feeling that my brother wasn’t sorry to get rid of me, although he had asked me to stay for a glass of sherry. Even if the person making the suggestion hadn’t been him, I’d have probably declined it. I still had the lovely taste of chocolate in my mouth and didn’t want to cover it with alcohol. The next time I’d meet the cook, I’d have to thank her. She had surely made the pudding, my favourite dessert, in an attempt to cheer me up. She was a very kind woman.

Arriving in my room I grabbed the next best book out of the bookshelf, sat down with it in my armchair and tried reading. Yet after ten minutes I gave up. I had read the first paragraph four times and still had no idea what it was about. My head didn’t seem to be able to work at the same time as my stomach was digesting. Maybe reading was not the right pastime after such a hearty meal. A little nap would be much better. The armchair was soft, comfortable and very inviting for this kind of activity. With a content sigh I closed my eyes.

Hands moving over my chest…

Lips meeting mine in a passionate kiss…

A body pressing against mine…

Back and forth… back and forth…

Soft flesh under my fingers… no, hard flesh… harder… and harder…

Wishes whispered into my ear…

´Touch me, Raoul… touch me…´

My hand moving up and down…

And his?

It does the same…

His touch is stronger…

He knows what I want… knows what I need…

My body is on fire…

I don’t want it to end…

Never…

“Erik!”

Slowly I opened my eyes to examine the mess I had made. One of my hands was still covering my mouth. Now I knew why my scream had sounded muffled. I couldn’t help admiring my self-control a little. Yet actually it was more my self-defence that made me act like this, even in the strange state between dreaming and waking. With a brother as notoriously curious as Philippe I had learned very early to keep such noises to a minimum.

My breath was still laboured as I removed my hand and looked down at myself. I already had a fairly good idea of what I’d find. And I was right: My other hand was lying on top of the part of my trousers beneath which my by now softening manhood was hidden. Even if I hadn’t felt my climax, the sticky substance would have told me what had happened. Apparently my presence of mind was not enough to open my trousers and pull out my member yet. That was something I’d have to work on.

For a few moments I simply sat there, revelling in the sensations my release had caused. But as they faded away, I grew more and more aware of the stickiness between my legs and the thin film of sweat covering my body. Reluctantly I got up from my seat. Turning around I was relieved to see that I had at least managed not to leave stains on the plush of the armchair.

I was even more relieved about the fact that I had a private bathroom, which I could enter directly from my room, without having to walk out into the corridor first. It had saved me a lot of humiliation when I had been an adolescent boy, and I could easily imagine it would come in useful again. Going into the bathroom and plunging my hands into a washbasin filled with cold water I couldn’t help giving a little sigh. It was a pity that I had to remove the traces of my pleasure. But then, I couldn’t stay like that either.

Half an hour later I was washed, dressed in fresh clothes and felt pleasantly refreshed. A glance on my pocket watch told me that it already was mid-afternoon. I seemed to have slept longer than I had thought. Looking out of the window I wondered what to do with the rest of the day. I was much too full of energy for a leisurely activity such as reading. The idea to write a letter had been a good excuse for Philippe, but in truth I had no one to write to except my sisters, and I didn’t feel like writing to either of them now. Maybe a walk in the park would be nice. Or else… I could go to Erik.

I snapped my fingers. Of course! I’d visit Erik. The mere thought kindled a fire of longing in my belly. The climax I had had because of my dream had been pleasant, but compared to the one he had given me in person it was nothing. The longer I thought about the idea, the more I liked it. There were two problems, though: The first one was that it was still too early. I didn’t even know what he did in the afternoon. He probably had important things to do, and I didn’t want to disturb him. Besides, people would see me enter the opera. They would stop to talk to me or maybe even tell my brother that I had been there. No, I could only go there in the evening, during or perhaps after the performance.

The second problem was even more important: I couldn’t just show up in Erik’s house and demand that he kissed and touched me. I had to offer him something in return, something special. But I didn’t know what. Staring out of the window I suddenly felt very disheartened. My good mood had vanished. What could I do with him that would feel just as fantastic as what he had done with me?

Of course I could try to pleasure him with my mouth as well. But frankly I was rather reluctant to do that. It was not because I didn’t want to. I was simply afraid of doing it wrong. If I was completely honest with myself, I had to admit that even the thought of kissing him still made me nervous, and there were far fewer things about that which could go wrong. What if I hurt his manhood with my teeth… or simply performed my task so terribly that he’d laugh at me afterwards? I sighed. Why couldn’t there be something like a book in which one could read about how to do such things?

Then I remembered a remark Erik had made. He had said that he had found out about lovemaking techniques in books. So if I read those books, too, I’d be able to pleasure him just as well as he had. At once my mood improved again. I even already had an idea where to purchase that kind of books. Sometimes it was indeed useful to have a brother like Philippe. In his wonderfully caring manner he had once told me about a small bookshop in which books for a rather special taste were sold.

Of course I never needed them. But if you ever wonder what to do with that little singer of yours apart from going to the theatre, you know where to get the right kind of ideas from.

Philippe’s words in all their arrogance were still as vivid on my mind as on the day he had spoken them, accompanied by a suggestive wink and a piece of paper with the address on it. At that time it had been clear to me that Christine and I would wait until our wedding night and afterwards things would develop quite naturally. So I hadn’t given the address a second glance. But now I was glad that it still was in the pocket of the jacket I had worn then. The way to the right street wasn’t far. I’d be able to walk there, which saved me the discussion about whether one of the coachmen was free.

Fortune was smiling upon me. As I went down the stairs, I noticed my brother’s favourite hat was missing from the coat rack. It turned out that he had gone out as well, which meant I didn’t even have to explain where I was going or when I’d be back. No one noticed me as I left the house quickly. Now that I had something to do, I didn’t want to waste any time. Taking the short cut through the park I chuckled about the fact that I was indeed going for a walk now, just for a completely different purpose.

I reached the bookshop about twenty minutes later. Slowly I opened the door, not sure what I’d find inside. My first impression was one of a large amount of books in rickety shelves, combined with the question whether anyone had ever bothered to tidy the big room. No one was there. In fact, it took me a few moments to spot the elderly man trying to squeeze yet another volume between all the other books at the bottom of a set of shelves.

“And what can I do for you, Monsieur?” he asked in a slow drawl as he straightened up, wiping his hands on his patchy trousers.

“I… erm, I’m looking for a… book,” I stammered, uncertain how to put my request. I couldn’t just tell him that I wanted to do research on lovemaking, could I?

“A book?” he repeated with an unpleasant smirk. Apparently he didn’t think me to be especially bright. “Well, you’ve come to the right place then. Are you looking for a book on travel? Or maybe you’d like to have a nice romance novel for your lady friend?” The more he spoke, the less I liked him. I felt the urge to leave again, but told myself not to be such a coward.

“Yes, one could say I want a book about romance, but romance of the… physical type,” I told him as boldly as I could.

The man smiled, showing crooked, yellowish teeth.

“Oh, that kind of books!” he exclaimed, as if my request had doubled his interest in me. “Why didn’t you say so right away? If you’d just come over here, Monsieur…”

He led me to a door just a few feet away from where we had been standing. As he opened it, I saw that the windowless room behind it wasn’t bigger than the average broom cupboard. Nevertheless, there was a set of shelves and a single chair crammed into it.

“Take your time deciding what you’d like to have. If you need something, just call,” he said, pushing me inside and closing the door behind me unceremoniously.
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Emptiness