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Chapter Text

Raoul was feeling rather proud of himself. But also very frightened. After having been held in the Phantom’s house on the water for several days, he had finally discovered the mechanism that opened the portcullis, and swum through the black waters to reach out of the many stone landings that led to one of many doors up through the winding cellars. He had now come out, at last, on the Communists’ Road.

It was dark, and Raoul kept to the shadows, going as quickly as he dared to his brother’s house. He had no key, and so he had to field questions from his valet – who answered the door – about his wet clothes, his dishevelled appearance, and why he had been gone so long.

‘I was drunk,’ Raoul told him coolly. ‘I fell into the Seine. These things happen sometimes. Is my brother here?’

‘No. He is… Well, he is out.’

Undoubtedly, Philippe was with his mistress. Or one of his mistresses. That was as well, since Raoul did not want to be interrogated again about where he had been this time.

‘Good,’ Raoul said. ‘Don’t wake me. Oh – by the way – what date is it?’

The valet looked astonished. ‘The twenty-seventh, monsieur.’

‘Ah. Good. I shall leave for Brest in the mor—’ Raoul glanced at the grandfather clock, and amended his statement, ‘— evening. Or tomorrow at the latest. Tell my brother, when you see him.’

And he instructed the valet to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, and to answer the door to nobody. Then he went upstairs to bathe, carefully locking both his bedroom door and his window. And, as the sun began to peak through the curtains, he laid down for a few hours of needful sleep.

He was awoken by a knock at his door. It was very soft, and yet Raoul was on high alert, his body ready in case the Phantom should appear.

Raoul sat up. Tentatively, he called, ‘Yes? Who is it?’

He was relieved to hear the voice of his valet. ‘It is me, monsieur. There is a young lady here for you.’

‘For me?’ Raoul enquired. He thought it more likely that any young lady would be in quest of the Comte, rather than the Vicomte.

‘Yes, monsieur. Mademoiselle Daaé is here.’

‘Ah! Right! One moment.’

Raoul leapt from his bed. He pulled on a fresh shirt and breeches, and let his valet into the room to help him with his cravat, waistcoat, and the rest. All the while, the valet kept up a flow of prattling conversation, mostly questions and hints about where Raoul had been. Raoul answered less than half, and none truthfully.

Raoul went down to the parlour, where Christine Daaé was sitting on a canapé sofa, a tray of tea beside her, looking thoroughly ladylike in her blue dress, white lace gloves, and neat blue hat, with her brown hair tumbling in curls from an elegant chignon.

Raoul crossed the room, and bent to kiss her hand, before collapsing onto the sofa beside her, taking her into his arms to kiss her.

Drawing back, he said, ‘My apologies, mademoiselle. I was late to bed last night.’

‘Yes, so I’ve heard. Your servant said something about you falling in the river, though he seemed to decide immediately that he ought not to have told me.’

Raoul settled properly beside her as he answered, ‘Indeed. The folly of drink, my dear. I shall abstain in future.’

Christine gave him a dry look. ‘Raoul, why are you talking such nonsense? You don’t expect me to believe for a moment that you have been gone for a whole week drinking and falling into rivers. We both know where you have been.’

They locked eyes. Raoul’s mouth twitched, and he sighed heavily. He reached for the tea tray to pour himself a cup, and swiftly devoured a pastry. Christine watched him, sipping delicately from her own cup, her eyes lingering on the marks on his wrist, and the bruising not entirely hidden by his high collar.

‘Alright,’ Raoul said, sitting back to regard her in turn. ‘Our lord and master has been keeping me at his leisure for the last week. What of it?’ Before Christine could answer, Raoul added in a rather irritated manner, ‘And where have you been? I’ve had to bear the brunt of his appetite alone. And he hasn’t been in a good humour either, ever since I told him about the Arctic expedition. As if I knew when I enlisted in the navy that I would have to consult an Opera Ghost about my whereabouts. Ridiculously tyrannical behaviour.’

Christine was watching him carefully as he spoke. Once he had grumbled himself silent, she said, ‘Raoul… Do you know what has happened?’

‘What, above the ground? No. Why? Has there been another revolution, or something?’

‘No.’ Christine toyed with her gloves, tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘Oh, Raoul. I don’t know how to tell you…’

 Raoul took Christine’s hand, stopping her from pulling at the lace, and then pulled her to him, his arm encircling her waist. She put her head on his shoulder, and Raoul winced as the feather in her hat nearly went into his eye. He flicked it away, and said, ‘What is the matter, Christine? Are you with child, or something?’

She drew back, not noticing as her hat knocked him on the chin. ‘How did you know that?’

Raoul’s heart sank. ‘I… I didn’t. I just thought, since it was something you were apprehensive of telling me…’ He trailed off as he saw the tears coming into her cobalt blue eyes.

‘I am with child,’ Christine said. ‘But that is not what I was going to tell you. At least, it is not the first thing. But Erik does not know, and you must not tell him, either.’ Raoul was about to protest, but she put a finger on his lips. ‘And I will explain why.’

‘Alright, tell me.’

Christine bit her lip. Her gaze broke from his, and she disentangled herself to stand, circling behind the sofa as if to put a barrier between them.

‘Raoul, Erik has killed someone.’

Raoul stared at her. ‘What? Who?’

‘Did you hear about the chandelier crash?’

‘No. Do you mean at the opera house?’

Christine nodded. ‘He dropped the chandelier, and killed a woman the managers had hired to replace Madame Giry, because she has been communicating with Erik. And he made Carlotta croak like a toad onstage, but that is beside the point.’

‘Do you mean to say he killed her on purpose?’ Raoul asked.

‘I believe so. That is, he denied it. But his entire manner was… you know.’

She shrugged. Raoul thought he did know. He could imagine the Phantom regarding Christine coolly, not bothering to stand from the piano organ as he said, ‘Really, I can’t imagine why you think I would do a thing like that. I am not a vindictive, revengeful person. And why should the life or death of a lowly theatre employee matter to me?’

Raoul made a small sound in his throat, and their eyes met again. Raoul was thinking about the other rumoured victim of the Phantom: the chief stagehand, who had been found hanged in the third cellar.

‘And what about that stagehand, uh…?’

‘Joseph Buquet?’

‘Yes.’

‘I asked him about that, too. And again, he denied it, but…’

Christine began to blink rapidly, and her hand gripped the back of the sofa. The black diamond on her ring finger pointed directly at Raoul. He touched his own ruby ring, turning the stone inward.

Raoul nodded slowly. ‘I see.’

‘Do you? Raoul, don’t you know… These last few days, I was so afraid for you. You know, when your valet answered, he told me you had instructed him not to let anyone in. I had some trouble persuading him to make an exception. Have you and Erik quarrelled?’

Raoul barked a rather nervous laugh. ‘Oh, repeatedly. Though not very seriously, I think. At least, not yet. I do expect to be in trouble for sneaking out. And if what you have told me is true, then…’

‘It is true. Don’t you know that when I say I was afraid for you, I mean that I was desperately in fear that Erik had killed you? And he was not at all encouraging when I asked him about it.’

Her arms wound around his neck, her hands running through his dark blonde waves, and she bent to kiss the top of his head. Raoul let her cradle him, basking in the glow of her affection, his heart aching with the knowledge of how much she cared about him to have been so concerned.

But before Christine drew away, Raoul’s mind was already working rapidly, going over what she had told him, trying to find something that would make it untrue.

‘Was Erik just as unencouraging about having not-killed me as having not-killed the other two? Because I am, as you see, still alive.’

‘Yes, but for —’ Christine stopped herself abruptly, fear flashing in her eyes as she raised her head to look at him. And Raoul thought she had meant to say, ‘for how much longer?’

‘You think he would kill me?’

Christine worried her lip before saying, ‘Raoul, I don’t know. I thought he had been holding you captive so that I would perform in his Don Juan Triumphant. At least, that is what Erik led me to believe. Didn’t he tell you anything about that?’

Raoul shook his head. ‘No. He only told me that you were busy with rehearsals, and that he didn’t want you disturbed, and that I must stay with him to make up for your absence. He wouldn’t answer any further questions about you.’

‘Raoul… When I confronted him after the chandelier crash, he was terrifying. I have never seen him so cold. He was furious that I would dare to question or criticise him. And I had only just realised that I am with child. I had been going to tell you both. And, oh, Raoul – it might be his child!’

As she said this, Christine burst into tears. Raoul rounded the sofa, pulling her into his arms as he kissed her face and hair. She stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder.

‘Hush, hush. It’s alright. You don’t know it will be his child, and even if it is, what difference will that make?’

‘He is a murderer! Were it not for the fact that it might be your child, I might do something drastic.’

Raoul felt cold dread fall into his stomach. He pulled back to look at her, hands grasping her upper arms. ‘Christine, you are not going to harm yourself, are you?’

She shook her head, freeing an arm to wipe her tears. ‘No. But, Raoul… What is the matter with you? You behave so strangely for someone who has been held against their will for days on end! I know Erik is… beguiling; but you are no meek, submissive wallflower. Why do you not rage against him? Why aren’t you pacing the room, rending your clothing as you describe the million ways you want to pay him back? I have told you he is a murderer. Why does that make no impression on you?’

‘Because I am tired. And I don’t want to tear my clothing. This is a new suit. Erik gave —’ Raoul stopped, his hazel eyes sliding guiltily to Christine’s face.

‘Alright, but why don’t you go to the police?’

Raoul let go of Christine as he stared at her, aghast. ‘The police? What do you mean?’

‘I mean that he has killed people,’ Christine said, her brow furrowing, and her voice rising almost angrily as Raoul left her, going to sit down again and putting his face in his hands. ‘At least two people,’ she went on, ‘and more still if the Persian is to be believed.’

Raoul lifted his head. ‘Who?’

‘The Persian gentleman who is always hanging around the theatre. He sought me out after the chandelier crash, and warned me that Erik used to kill people with a lasso to amuse the Persian sultana when they lived in Mazandaran.’

Raoul’s mind travelled back to a rose-tinged hour only days earlier, when he had lain in Erik’s bed, a rope wrapped around his neck, while Erik slowly fucked him, telling him how he had spent many hours mastering the art of the Punjab lasso.

‘What is that used for, catching cattle?’

And Erik had tightened the rope, leaning in as Raoul began helplessly to come, and murmuring in his ear, ‘Catching men.’

Raoul swallowed. His cock had twitched at the memory, and he was willing himself not to grow hard while thinking about Erik fucking him and Erik killing people at the same time.

Mastering himself, he cleared his throat, and said, ‘I will talk to him.’

‘The Persian?’ Christine asked.

‘No; Erik. I will ask him about it myself. About Buquet and whoever that woman was. And I will ask him about murdering people at the behest of a sultana too, if you like.’

Raoul had got to his feet. Christine stumbled around the sofa to get to him, taking hold of his arm. ‘No, Raoul, no! Don’t… Haven’t I already told you how furious he was? And he is angry with you already for wanting to go to the Arctic.’

‘You, as well? Haven’t I already said that I do not want to go to the Arctic? I am quite certain it will be perfectly horrendous. But if I can brave frostbite and polar bears, then I am sure I can brave Erik’s wrath.’

He was trying to gently disentangle himself, but Christine, to his surprise, wouldn’t let him. She clung insistently to his arm.

‘Please, please don’t. I can’t describe how fearful I am for you. You have defied him already by escaping the island. He is not going to be kindly disposed towards you.’

‘Then what do you suggest I do?’

‘Speak to the police,’ Christine said. When Raoul’s face turned stony, she went on quickly, ‘I know you don’t like the idea. But the man is a murderer. And if we go back to him, he will not let us go. He is angry at me for confronting him. He is – and he will be – angry at you for leaving him.’

‘Alright, well, what if I do go to the police? What am I going to tell them? They aren’t going to believe me that the Opera Ghost kidnapped me and took me to his lair!’

‘They might believe you if you showed them where it is.’

Raoul watched her in disbelief. ‘Christine, why are you so eager to betray him all of a sudden? Is he not your Angel of Music, your teacher?’

Christine was suddenly angry. ‘How can you call it betrayal? I am telling you – he is a murderer! Who would you have him kill next? You? Me? Our unborn child?’

As she saw these last words, her hand settled protectively on her belly. Her corset had been laced loosely – doubtless for fear it would harm the baby to do otherwise – and there was the barest swell to her belly, hidden by the fold of her skirt until she put her hand to it.

‘Why are you so convinced he will kill one of us? I don’t mean to say that his killing other people isn’t, well, morally reprehensible. But Erik loves us. He would never seriously harm us.’

‘You know, most people do not have to use the word “seriously” when saying that their lover would never harm them,’ Christine said dryly.

Raoul sucked his teeth, looking away. Christine saw anger tense in his jaw.

‘I don’t like it, Christine. It isn’t right, even talking about betraying him. What are you hoping for, that the police will storm the place and capture him?’

‘Why are you so eager to defend him? Don’t you believe anything I have told you?’

‘It is not that I don’t believe you. I certainly don’t want to believe you, and would disbelieve you if I could. But it’s not right. A man cannot betray a man who has loved him. If I had a quarrel with him, I ought to challenge him to a duel.’

Christine gave a sharp, staccato laugh, but stopped as Raoul glared at her. ‘Raoul, he will kill you. How can you suggest such a thing?’

‘I’m not suggesting anything. But I had far rather he killed me than that I sent the police after him.’

‘Well, if you would rather he killed you, then I can take care of that,’ Christine said hotly. ‘He said he would kill you if I refused to sing in his Don Juan.’

Raoul’s gaze had drifted to the door as he pursued ideas of going against Christine’s advice and going to ask Erik about whether he had been going around killing people. (Undoubtedly, Christine’s manner had been at fault. Raoul would handle the situation with more tact; make it seem as if he thought killing people was not a big deal, or even that he admired Erik’s murderous abilities. He would be able to get at the truth…)

At Christine’s words, however, Raoul’s gaze snapped back to her. It was a moment before he could reply, and by the time he did, he was already calmer. ‘I am sure he did not really mean that,’ he said softly. ‘Erik likes throwing out violent threats. He would not kill me to spite you.’

‘I would not be so sure. You did not see him when I confronted him.’ Christine pulled in a heavy sigh, and looked like she was already regretting her next words. ‘And if you had heard the things he said about you, you would not defend him.’

Raoul frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Honestly, the way he spoke about you – I don’t mean to hurt you, but you should know this, I think – it was as if he had picked you out of a pen at a Babylonian slave market.’

Raoul actually began to laugh. But he stopped himself quickly. ‘That is… Well…’

‘You don’t believe me?’ Christine asked, anxiety in her face and her voice.

Raoul gave a wry half-smile. ‘It’s not that I don’t believe you…’

Quickly, as if she thought she might not say it at all if she didn’t get the words out fast, Christine said, ‘Because Erik told me that Zeus himself could not find a better catamite.’

Raoul looked at her blankly. ‘What does that mean?’

Christine gave him a long look. ‘It’s… Well… You know the tale of Zeus and Ganymede?’

‘No,’ Raoul said.

‘Ah.’ Christine looked supremely awkward. ‘Well, the god Zeus took a fancy to Ganymede, who was a prince of Troy, and carried him off to Olympus to have his wicked way with. Essentially, as a sort of sex slave. A catamite. Do you understand?’

Raoul was suppressing another smile. ‘How do you know about that?’

Christine waved a hand, though there was colour on her cheeks. ‘It’s well-known mythology. How you don’t know about it is more surprising, especially considering your… interests. But I see you still don’t understand quite how insulting the word is. And what I mean to tell you is that Erik does not respect you.’

Raoul turned away. Seeking to distract himself, he took a piece of bread from the long-forgotten tray, and crumbled it to pieces in his fingers. Christine watched the side of his face as he blinked rapidly and wiped his nose.

‘Well, maybe he doesn’t,’ Raoul said, clearing his throat as his voice came out thick. ‘But, you know, he says such things to us all the time. Insults are practically terms of endearment, when he says them.’

‘I don’t know, Raoul. Part of me thinks that he has been telling us what he thinks about us all the time. Remember when he called you a cunt-hungry whore?’

Raoul sniggered, but it sounded almost tearful. It was what Erik had said after Christine related the story of how Raoul had hidden behind the door of her dressing room to surprise her, and then tumbled her – both laughing – onto the sofa, clambering beneath her skirts to bury his face between her legs.

Raoul sighed. Meditatively, he said, ‘Little Lotte let her mind wander. Little Lotte thought, am I fonder of love, life or liberty?’

Christine touched his arm, and he finally turned back to her.

‘I was foolish to believe that such things as angels walked the Earth,’ Christine said. ‘But, tell me – what do you want to do?’

Raoul smiled bitterly. ‘I want to go back to bed. And pray to God I don’t wake up.’

‘Don’t wish for such things, Raoul. But, come, what will you do?’

‘Your first performance is tonight, is it not?’

Christine nodded.

‘Well, then, I’m sure Erik will be rather distracted. I am expected to be at Brest by the end of the week. We can leave together, tonight, as soon as possible.’

Christine blinked at him. ‘You’re leaving? But, Raoul, Erik will be furious; he will come after you!’

‘I doubt he will have time. And once the ship has sailed, what can he do?’

‘Raoul, I’m frightened. I fear what he might do if you leave. And I’m sure he would never let the two of us leave together. I doubt we would ever make it out of the opera house.’

Raoul looked at her sharply. ‘Do you think he would hurt you?’

She shrugged helplessly. ‘He might, if he suspects us. He is a brutal man.’

‘But if you come with me – to Brest; I don’t mean to the Arctic, of course – then we shall not even need to go back to the theatre. My coachman will take us to the rail station. From Brittany you can take a ship anywhere in the world. Erik will not find you. You will write to me, and I will find you once I return.’

Christine shook her head. ‘Raoul, it’s impossible. It’s not just you he has threatened. He says he will destroy the whole theatre if I do not perform. I do not know how. But he is bound to want to kill as many people as possible.’

Raoul pinched the bridge of his nose, heaving a sigh. ‘Then what can we do?’

‘Speak to the police.’

‘Christine, the entire gendarmerie won’t be enough to arrest him. They aren’t going to go down to the fifth cellar and knock on his door!’

‘No, maybe not.’ There was a determined light in Christine’s shining blue eyes. ‘But if I perform in his opera, and you are in Box Five, then Erik is certain to attend.’

‘Ah.’ Raoul thought this over. ‘I am not sure that will succeed. You know there are some peculiarities about Box Five. You might be quite safe on the stage with everybody’s eyes on you, but he could easily kill me or take me without anyone noticing.’

‘Then you should have a gendarme with you.’

‘Of course. Because Erik would never think of killing a policeman.’

‘Have you a better plan, Raoul? The managers are up in arms over the twenty thousand francs Erik has taken from them. I am sure we can persuade them to call the police in.’

‘And do you think the police will be as persuadable? I’m not sure they generally deal with ghosts.’

But Christine could not be discouraged. ‘Well, then, we must tell them all about Erik. And the Persian daroga can explain matters better than we can.’

Raoul stepped back from her, thinking. ‘I still don’t like it, Christine. It doesn’t seem right, setting him up like a rat in a trap. Do you really think he deserves that?’

There was a flash of anger in her eyes. ‘Raoul, I don’t like it either! But what choice do we have? If we leave, he will destroy the opera house and kill everybody inside. If we obey him, we will be enslaved by him again. And I don’t want that; not anymore. We’ve, both of us, been deceived like children. He’s a monster, Raoul, and not because of his face. He doesn’t see other people as human. He doesn’t see us as human. Do you want to live forever in the dark as a madman’s plaything?’

‘No, mademoiselle. I want to go to the Arctic and get killed by a polar bear. I think that will be best for everybody.’

Christine’s jaw set. ‘Well, do so. Only go after the performance.’

Raoul drew in a long breath. Looking down, Christine saw that he was digging his nails hard into a ligature mark on his wrist. She took his hand to stop him.

‘I love you, Raoul. I know you do not want to lose him. But we will still have each other. And there is our child to think of. What sort of father do you suppose Erik would be? Do you think our child would be allowed to walk in the light of day?’

‘Oh, very well,’ Raoul said at last. But his voice dripped with bitterness. ‘I will invite Messieurs Moncharmin and Richard here. Do not thank me,’ he added, lifting a hand as Christine moved to embrace him. ‘There’s no point conspiring under Erik’s nose. There would be a noose waiting for me before I even left their office.’

Chapter Text

Raoul sat in the shadows of Box Five, his face in his hands, trying hard to not simply die from stress. He was flanked by two policemen, a precaution which the police commissioner had insisted on after Raoul told him that he had a rivalry with the Opera Ghost concerning Christine Daaé, which he gave as the reason why the Phantom would be so eager to kill or abduct him.

The audience was restless. It had not been explained to them that there was a murderous Phantom on the loose, and the theatre was full of murmurings about precisely why the place was full of police, stationed at every door and staircase, and all armed to the teeth. Even Raoul was armed, a revolver sitting snug against his ribs. Probably it would do no good. But Christine had made him promise to at least try to shoot Erik if he thought he was about to kill him.

The curtain lifted to somewhat doubtful applause, and Raoul sat back, barely watching and only half-listening to the music he had heard the Phantom perfect over the course of weeks. He was vaguely surprised to find that the cast did not do a bad job of the strange music, though Carlotta milked every line she had, and Piangi seemed too self-satisfied even for Don Juan.

Finally, Christine entered the stage alone to a set dining table, wearing a magnificent peach gown, her voice lifting beautifully.

‘No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy;

No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!’

Raoul watched as from the other side of the stage there emerged a cloaked figure, hood pulled over his face like a veil. He felt a prickle of dread. The whole ensemble put him in mind of the night of the masquerade, when the Phantom had appeared dressed as Red Death. Now, Death entered the stage again in a black cloak.

And he was too tall to be Piangi.

‘Master?’

‘Passarino, go away, for the trap is set and waits for its prey.’

There was no mistaking that voice, rich and strong and soft and melting into the air. On the last words, the man lifted his head, and though his face was covered, Raoul felt the Phantom looking straight at him, and fought the urge to recoil.

He was going to faint. He was going to pass away on the spot. There was no way he could live through this! And yet, though his heart beat and beat like it, too, wanted to escape, he found himself still alive, and lucid enough to hear the Phantom continue.

‘You have come here

In pursuit of your deepest urge

In pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent.’

Raoul glanced at the gendarme to his left. The policeman had no idea that the person they were after was actually on the stage, in front of everybody. Raoul knew he ought to reach out to him, to tell him. But he was afraid that Erik would see him tell the man, and know for certain that Raoul had betrayed him.

He looked back to the stage as the Phantom sang again, his face directed towards Box Five with his finger raised to where his lips would be: ‘Silent…’

Raoul sank back in his chair. No, there was absolutely no way that he was going to openly betray Erik any more than he already was. But then… where would the blame fall? He could not let it fall on Christine. Even the idea of letting Erik believe it was all the managers’ doing was disgraceful. And while Erik was so close to Christine, he feared that he would do her some harm were Raoul to give him away.

God, he wished he had brought a strong drink with him.

Raoul watched Erik and Christine sing and lead each other around the stage. He found it hard to believe that their flirtations were purely for show. When they had spoken together in the house of Raoul’s brother, it had seemed that Christine now despised Erik. Raoul thought that he ought to as well. But it was hard to put the two Eriks together: the masterful, beguiling, talented Angel of Music, and the murderous Opera Ghost. And with the entire opera house filled with policemen, it was hard not to be on Erik’s side.

But, of course, Raoul would not let himself find it remotely funny or daring or attractive that Erik was now onstage in front of everyone, under the noses of the managers and the entire Paris police department. No. Not even a bit.

Finally, the Phantom seized Christine, pulling her to him as they sang, voices clashing:

‘Past the point of no return

The final threshold

The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn

We’ve passed the point of no return!’

On the last word, Christine reached up, and pulled away the Phantom’s hood. At once, the audience went deadly silent as they realised that it was not Piangi beneath the cloak, but an unfamiliar masked man.

As Christine tore off his mask, Erik caught her arm, and at once the floor disappeared beneath their feet, the trapdoor closing smoothly again above them.

A shot rang out. Everywhere, the police were springing to action. There were screams from the audience members, and chaos erupted as they began to flee the mezzanine, the circle, and the stalls.

Raoul leapt up. The police officers beside him were already hurrying from the box, rifles at the ready. Stumbling over the chair, Raoul tried to follow them, but found his way blocked. The curtain seemed to have become suddenly solid. He lifted it, and found behind it a heavy wooden door, more like a wall than a door, since there was no handle. He tried to push it, to pry it open with his fingers, but it would not budge. He kicked it, put his shoulder to it, and still it would not move.

Raoul turned, going instead to the balcony. Had the Phantom only meant to slow him down? Or did he think Raoul was a child, who would be too afraid to climb from the box? Perhaps he meant only to separate him from the police.

Raoul swung himself over the balcony, and let himself drop into the stalls below. He pushed through the crowd, and climbed onto the stage, quickly going behind it and down the first staircase he came to, dashing into Christine’s dressing room. As he passed through the door, he heard the voice of the Persian ring out behind him, ‘Take care, monsieur! And remember – keep your hand at the level of your eyes!’

Raoul did not turn around, but went at once to the mirror, prying it open. He went rapidly along the stone passageway and down a spiralling staircase, drawn on by the echoing sound of water.

~*~

Raoul swam through the black waters of the labyrinthine lake, moving quickly so as not to seize up from cold. Several times, he found the way barred by a heavy portcullis, and was forced to swim back and find another route. Sometimes, he swam through an open portcullis only to have it descend ominously behind him.

He was terribly aware, every time this happened, that if the next portcullis was not open, he would be trapped there until cold overcame him, or he lost all energy and was drowned.

Only one portcullis remained closed at his approach, and it was the one that barred the entrance to the final chamber containing the Phantom’s island and house on the water. Through the bars, he could see the outline of the sandbank, lit by a dozen or so softly glowing lights.

‘It seems, my dear, we have a guest.’

The voice cut across the water. Raoul, clutching at the trellis, saw the Phantom standing at the island’s edge. Christine was behind him, lying in a crumpled heap. At first, Raoul could not tell if she was conscious, or even alive. But then she raised her head, her hair falling back from her tearstained face.

In a trembling voice she cried, ‘Raoul!’

‘Erik,’ Raoul called, in as commanding a voice as he could muster given his present circumstances, ‘let me in.’

‘Can you not find the mechanism, my love? You were so clever about that before,’ Erik said, his voice cruel and seductive as sin.

‘Erik, please.’

‘Now, there’s a pretty word. Of course, my dearest one.’

Raoul did not know what the Phantom did, but suddenly the portcullis was rising, and Raoul let go of the bars to swim quickly underneath. He waded out onto the island, while Erik watched him, his black eyes gleaming in his unmasked face.

Christine got to her feet, and dashed towards Raoul, flinging her arms around him. She seemed uncertain whether to keep herself between Erik and Raoul, or to hide behind him, and ended up turning them both so that they each faced Erik side-on.

They both looked at him. Erik heaved a long sigh, and then walked towards them in a calm, measured manner indicative of well-restrained rage. As he went, he pulled off his dark cloak, revealing a black suit and blood red waistcoat. He pulled Raoul away from Christine with ease, wrapping him in the cloak with gentle firmness, and whispering in his ear, ‘Can’t have you catching cold.’

Christine looked between them in terror as Erik’s arm hooked under Raoul’s neck, pulling him close, Raoul’s back to his chest, tucking Raoul’s head under his chin. He kept his eyes on Christine as he dropped a kiss to Raoul’s honey-coloured hair.

Christine tried to speak firmly, though her voice trembled. ‘Erik, stop. Let him – let us – go.’

‘Why?’ Erik asked. He looked at her, an infuriating smirk on his half-handsome face. As Raoul tried to duck out from under his arm, Erik pulled him back with clear and purposeful ease.

Christine’s face tightened. ‘Because we don’t want to be here!’

‘Don’t you?’ he asked, raising a brow. He looked down at Raoul. ‘Raoul, do you want to be here?’

As Christine saw Raoul look back at him, his sweet hazel eyes wide with fear, hope, uncertainty, and vulnerable longing, she felt she was dangerously close to losing her ally.

‘I…’ Raoul began, but trailed off, either too afraid or too lost in the intensity of Erik’s gaze to finish.

‘Raoul!’ Christine cried indignantly.

‘Hush. Let him answer.’

Raoul’s eyes flickered from Erik’s as he said, ‘No, I don’t.’

Again, he tried to extricate himself from Erik’s hold, taking care not to turn so that Erik would not feel the revolver, useless though it was now that the powder had got damp. But again, it was no use. Erik was too strong for either of them.

‘Really, Raoul? The three of us were getting along so charmingly together. I can’t imagine why you two have turned against me so suddenly. Can you, Raoul?’

Though Erik’s voice was soft and caressing, his hand closed in Raoul’s hair, baring his throat as he dragged his head back.

‘Yes,’ Raoul replied, glowering, ‘it’s because you started killing people.’

Erik let out an amused huff, though there was anger in his eyes. ‘Started killing people? You really think I have only just started?’

‘Erik, let go of him!’ Christine cried.

She stepped towards them, but as Erik looked up at her, she did not dare to try to pry Raoul from him.

‘Mademoiselle, you have both displeased me greatly, and ought to be punished. Especially Raoul, who I believe was the instigator in bringing the entire Paris police department into my opera house.’

As Erik’s arm tightened around Raoul’s neck, Christine found the courage to spring forward and stop him. But a hand came up at once, striking her away. And when she turned back, it was to see a rope around Raoul’s neck.

‘No!’

Again, Christine lunged at them, but a strong hand held her back, while the other drew the rope tighter around Raoul.

‘Calm yourself, Christine!’ Erik snapped. ‘I have no intention of killing him. That is, as long as you are both very good and behave yourselves.’

‘Let him go!’

‘Erik,’ Raoul said, his voice strained as he clung onto the arm holding the rope, as if he had any chance of making it release, ‘let Christine go, at least.’

Erik smirked, looking between the two of them with dark amusement. ‘The two of you are so sweet. Such simple, selfless love. I wonder how you can stand it.’ Erik sighed. ‘Well, I must let one of you go. After all, I have to leave this place now that somebody’ – Raoul scrambled at his throat as the rope was briefly tightened – ‘has brought my home to the attention of the police. And I will not be able to manage both of you on the journey. I could easily manage my sick little brother or my poor fainting wife, but two such helpless dependants to lift out of carriages and carry onto steam liners is rather too much of an encumbrance. And so, I have decided to be generous, and let you choose between yourselves which of you shall go, and which shall remain with me.’

Immediately, Raoul ground out, ‘Let Christine go.’

But just as quickly, Christine said, ‘Let Raoul go!’

They both looked at Erik, each expecting him to take their answer. Erik smiled.

‘You misunderstand me,’ he said gently. ‘In order for either of you to be let go, you must decide it between yourselves, unanimously.’ Erik glanced down at Raoul, and was unsurprised by his look of anxious confusion. ‘That means you both have to be of one mind, and reach the same decision.’

 Raoul clung onto Erik’s arm, the arm holding the noose. ‘Erik, please let Christine go. She has sung in your Don Juan Triumphant for you. Her voice is beautiful; your singing lessons must be complete. Please, why don’t you let her go?’

‘You think I have been training her up all this time just to let her go? Raoul, you can be so very obtuse.’

Christine seized on this at once. ‘Then keep me, and let Raoul go. What use can you have for him?’

The thumb of the hand holding the rope dragged over Raoul’s lips. And Erik’s eyes gleamed as he murmured, ‘What indeed…’

Christine caught his meaning, and said irritably, ‘But you can do that with either of us!’

Her cheeks were flushed, but if she felt any shame about all the things the three of them had done together curled up in Erik’s eagle-shaped bed, or in her dressing room, or Erik’s music room, or in the shadows of Box Five, it was completely smothered by her anger.

Erik shrugged. ‘Well, yes. And you are both very charming, both together and individually. However, I find it difficult to choose between you as far as companionship goes. That you, Christine, are musically gifted is certainly a strike in your favour. Yet Raoul also has a very talented throat and mouth, which ought not to be overlooked.’

Raoul let out a choking sound that might have been a strangled laugh. Erik smirked.

‘But you are still missing the point,’ Erik continued, his eyes gliding back to Christine. ‘I cannot decide between you, and so the two of you must agree which of you will come with me, and which shall leave freely. You ought to be trying to persuade each other, not me.’

‘Christine, you should go,’ Raoul said. ‘You know you should. I couldn’t live with myself if I left you here.’

There were tears in Raoul’s eyes. And as his voice cracked, Erik began smoothing his hair in such an intimidating way it made Christine want to cringe in fear for him.

‘And you think I could live with myself if I left you with him?’ Christine replied, her voice rising. ‘He already has a noose around your neck – how long before he kills you?’

‘I have no intention of killing either of you. Whichever of you comes with me will be very well treated.’ Erik paused, considering. ‘That is, as long as they are obedient. And after I have sufficiently punished them enough to make up for the crimes of both of you.’

Christine gasped as Raoul stomped on Erik’s foot, and dug his elbow into his ribs to shove himself away from Erik’s grasp. Christine reached for him. But Raoul was swiftly pulled back and forced roughly down to his knees, the noose tightening again.

‘However,’ Erik went on, his voice almost a growl, ignoring Christine as she tried to pry his hands away from Raoul, ‘we are pressed for time. And I don’t doubt that your policemen will find their way down here eventually. So, if you cannot come to a unanimous decision, I will – regretfully – have to kill one of you.’ His eyes glittered down at the viscount. ‘Probably Raoul, who is closest to hand.’

Raoul snarled, twisting as he tried to escape. ‘I hate you! I wish I could —’

He was silenced by a vicious backhand. ‘Behave yourself!’

Christine tried to work herself between them, one hand on Raoul’s shoulder, the other on Erik’s chest, her eyes shining as she looked up at him. ‘Erik, please, don’t hurt him!’

‘Come to a decision, then!’ Again, Erik took hold of Raoul’s hair to pull his face up. ‘Speak, Vicomte! Convince our charming Little Lotte.’

Christine looked down at Raoul, her hand closing over Erik’s in a futile attempt to loosen his hold on him.

Raoul said, ‘Christine, you should go. Please.’

She shook her head, frantic. ‘Raoul, he will kill you!’

‘No, he won’t. Or if he does, better that he kills me, than you. We both know that would be better.’

And a mute look passed between Raoul and Christine. And Christine realised that Raoul wasn’t simply being chivalrous. He was avoiding naming the reason why Christine’s life was more valuable than his at that moment. They both knew that if Erik discovered that Christine was with child – and possibly his child – that he would be far less likely to let her go.

And what kind of life would that be for any child, kept prisoner by the Phantom?

Erik’s gloved hand was stroking through Raoul’s tousled waves again. ‘Raoul, you devalue yourself. It would grieve me greatly to kill you.’

Another look passed between Christine and Raoul, this time tinged with relief that Erik had not discovered the hidden meaning behind Raoul’s words. Ever so slightly, her lips pressed together, tears spilling from her eyes, Christine nodded.

‘Christine, if you don’t want him to kill me,’ Raoul said, ‘then you must go, because I will let him kill me before I agree to let you stay.’

Erik smiled. ‘Ah, mademoiselle. You see how badly he wishes to stay with me? He cannot live without me. How noble our pretty beau is.’

Christine knew their choice had been made. And yet, looking into Raoul’s eyes, bright with fear and defiance and regret, she found it hard to say the words. Bending down, she lifted his face, and kissed him.

After a moment, Erik’s hand caught in her hair. ‘Enough of that. The two of you are very adorable, I’m sure. But you are trying my patience. Make your choice.’

Tears spilled from Christine’s eyes as she half-swallowed the words, ‘I will go.’

Erik pushed the hair back from Raoul’s face as he said, ‘Raoul, do you agree with this?’

‘Yes. Let her go. Please.’

‘Very well.’

With a flourish, Erik removed the rope from Raoul’s neck and bound his hands instead, dragging him over to the chamber wall, where he attached him to a thick pipe that ran the length of it.

‘Sit tight, sweetheart. I will take Christine as far as the third cellar. Then I will be back for you.’

Christine tried to reach for Raoul again, to say goodbye, but Erik caught her arm, and she broke down sobbing as she was lifted into his arms and carried into the boat.

As the portcullis lowered behind them, Raoul heard Erik’s voice say, ‘I know, I know, mademoiselle. He is very charming and handsome now, isn’t he? I would not like to part from him either…’

~*~

Erik was not gone long. But by the time he returned, Raoul’s breathing had quieted, the tears had dried on his face, and his mind had gone as blank and smooth as the glassy black water.

Still, as Erik stepped onto the bank and approached him, Raoul could not help shrinking away at his approach. As his hands were untied and he was pulled into a firm embrace, Raoul let out a small involuntary sound.

‘Hush, sweet one. Don’t be frightened.’

And his face was turned up, and his lips engulfed in a kiss so sweet and deep it was like the kiss of death.

At last, Erik broke away, and began to steer Raoul into the house and up the stairs. ‘Let us get you out of those wet clothes. Once we are on the road, we can speak. I promise I will explain everything.’

Raoul said nothing. Like one enchanted, he let himself be led into the grotto-like bathroom, let Erik peel his sodden clothes from him, even watched the revolver be taken from him without emotion, and finally let himself be guided into the circular tub raised a little above the floor.

All the while, Erik kept up a gentle flow of conversation. It wasn’t until he was kneeling behind Raoul, wetting and combing through his hair, that Raoul became at all aware of what he was saying.

‘…tired of living always like a hermit underground. I want an ordinary house, with ordinary doors and windows. And I want my own theatre, to direct as I choose. And a wife, too. Meaning you, of course. Christine would have made for a more convenient companion in that regard, because we could have been married openly. But no matter. You have plenty of fine qualities to make up for it. And you will have as many fine horses and clothes and carriages as you like. And I will even allow you out, occasionally, on a Sunday. Under my supervision, of course. And we will make love at least three times every day.’

He guided Raoul from the tub, and wrapped him in a towel before a long mirror that Raoul had always seen covered with a velvet curtain. He could not help noticing that they made a heavy contrast to each other. Erik, tall, confident, clothed immaculately in his black suit, devastatingly handsome despite the disfigurement covering half of his face, with an air that was both deadly and masterful. Raoul, slight by comparison, naked, pretty and youthlike, with vulnerability in his face, in his stance, and shining from his eyes.

Erik took Raoul into the bedroom, putting him on the bed. He turned Raoul so that his back was to himself, and took the towel from his body to rub it through his hair. All his actions were far gentler and more caring than Raoul had ever known him.

The towel was tossed over the back of a chair, and Raoul shivered as his damp hair was tucked behind his ear, and he felt the warm presence of Erik at his back, and his warm breath tickling his ear. Raoul knew he ought not to feel such things now, but there was an unmistakable tingling inside him, in that sweet spot that knew its lover was close.

‘I can’t tell you how badly I want to be inside of you right now,’ Erik murmured. At his words, and his softer than silk tone, Raoul felt that spot inside him positively bloom. ‘But there are certain other matters we must deal with. And quickly, I fear.’

When Raoul said nothing, Erik turned him in his arms.

‘What is the matter, dear one? Are you afraid of me?’

Raoul only nodded dumbly, looking into those black eyes that had grown so tender now that they were alone.

‘That is understandable. But I will not hurt you. That is, I have still to punish you, of course. But beyond that, you have nothing very terrible to fear.’

Erik kissed his temple, and stood slowly, seeming loathe to let him go. He found clothes for Raoul, and dressed him as gently as he had undressed him, in black breeches and an emerald green coat. Raoul was not very surprised to find that they fitted like they had been tailored for him.

Pulling his coat around him, Erik’s hands slipped underneath, circling Raoul’s trim waist. His forehead bent to Raoul’s.

‘It’s alright, sweetheart. Christine is not here. You don’t have to be a big man with me.’

At his words, Raoul crumpled, and collapsed, weeping into his chest.

‘There, now. I did not mean you should become hysterical,’ Erik said. But he cradled the viscount, kissing his hair and forehead, clearly relishing the fact that Raoul was seeking comfort from him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Raoul said, his voice small.

‘Hush. What do you have to be sorry about? All you did was fill my theatre with police so that I would be arrested or killed. What is a thing like that between a husband and wife?’

As Erik had hoped, Raoul began to laugh. He pulled away, wiping his eyes. Erik steered him to sit back down on the bed, and then went to a cabinet, pulling out several bottles and mixing a concoction, which he brought over to Raoul.

‘Drink this.’

‘What is it?’

‘It will make you sleep. For a time. Later, I hope I can trust your obedience, but for now I haven’t time to risk it.’

Raoul shook his head, backing away, but he was trapped in by the wings circling the bed. ‘No, no! I will obey you, I promise!’

‘Of course, you will, my dearest one. And you can start by drinking this.’

‘No, please, Erik, I —’

But Erik took hold of him, pulling him back to the edge of the bed, and turning his face up to pour the mixture into his mouth. Caressing his throat, he forced Raoul to swallow. Then he kissed the side of his head.

‘Good boy.’

Erik stood, pulling and donning a greatcoat from a closet, and finding another for Raoul. As Erik pulled him from the bed, his head began to spin alarmingly. Once Erik had wrapped the coat around him, Raoul found himself clinging to him as the world began to darken.

‘There is a carriage waiting,’ Erik said. ‘It has all we need. I don’t want anything else from here.’

He pulled Raoul from the room, sweeping him up into his arms as he stumbled on the staircase.

‘Don’t be alarmed,’ Erik murmured, as Raoul made a slight whimper. ‘I will take care of you. When you awake, you will be quite safe.’

As they reached the door of the house, Raoul heard the clamour of unfamiliar voices. Had he been able to see just then, he would have seen the amber light of torches glancing off the walls of the chamber beyond the portcullis, which Erik had left open for them after his return.

Raoul was deposited roughly onto something that swayed beneath him. Above him, Erik snarled, ‘God damn you, Raoul!’ And Raoul felt the swish of his greatcoat whirl over him.

There was the sound of a gunshot. And another.

And then Raoul knew no more.

Chapter Text

A year and a day after he had left France, Raoul’s ship again touched port in Brittany.

A year and two days before, Raoul had awoken in his brother’s house to the news that Christine Daaé was missing, and that the Phantom had fled with carnage in his wake. Though the Chagny house was surrounded by police, Raoul knew – as soon as he understood the situation – that nothing would stop Erik if he wished to get in.

Philippe was desperate to know what had happened. Raoul was equally keen to conceal the truth, but told him that he’d had a disagreement with the Opera Ghost – a jealous and vindictive man – over Christine Daaé, and that he was cured of love forever, and that he was going straightaway to the port at Brest to set sail for the Arctic, where he would hopefully die.

As Raoul was actually supposed to be joining his naval ship at Brest, Philippe let him go, though with the instruction that he should try not to die if he could help it, and that he should forget about Christine Daaé.

Raoul went at once to Brest, where he found Christine’s adoptive mother, Madame Valerius, at home, and asked her if she knew where Christine had gone. Madame Valerius told him that Christine had been there, but Christine had only told her that she was taking a ship, and would write once she had reached her destination.

Raoul was then at a crossroads. He had two options: to leave, or to wait. If he waited, he was certain that Erik would find him before he ever heard from Christine. If he left for the Arctic Circle, he might be gone a year or more before he could join Christine. In that time, Erik might find her. Despite Christine’s own fears, Raoul did not believe that Erik would kill her, but he might make a slave out of her, and take possession of the child, too. And for all Raoul knew, that child might be his own.

But even if Erik did not find her, Christine was with child, and unmarried. What would she do, out alone in the world? Still, Christine had gone alone and of her own accord, without knowing that Raoul would ever get free of Erik. She must have had a plan.

And Raoul could not stay there. If he wanted to stay free from Erik, then the Arctic Circle was probably his best bet. He would not let himself dwell on the fact that a large part of him wanted Erik to find him. That was madness, and a madness he would get over.

He would go to the Artic Circle, and he would not die, and he would forget all about Erik. And when he returned, he would discover where Christine had gone. Erik had once made Raoul promise he would never ask Christine to marry him. But if she was willing, then Raoul had decided he would finally do the honourable thing and marry her, regardless of whether the child was his or not.

~*~

As Raoul prepared to disembark, he was surprised to find a telegram for him in the mail that was carried onboard ship. It was dated from five months earlier. “BOY DELIVERED SAFELY. MME VAL WILL TELL YOU WHERE. CD.”

Raoul went straightaway to Madame Valerius’ house, who went on rapturously about what a fine figure he cut in his uniform, and finally told him where he could find Christine and her infant son.

It was dark when Raoul left her, stepping out onto the street winding its lonely way down to the sea. He was surprised to find a carriage outside, and stopped and stared at it a moment, wondering who could possibly be calling on the old lady at this hour. He was about to ask the coachman, when in the glass of the window he saw a tall figure reflected behind him.

Raoul whirled around, and then backed up against the carriage immediately as an imposing figure clad in a black greatcoat and shining white half-mask closed in on him.

‘Good evening, Vicomte. Have you missed me?’

‘Oh, God…’

Raoul tried to bolt, but a resistless leather-gloved hand caught him around his throat, slamming him against the door. Seated above them, the driver didn’t stir.

‘You are as beautiful as ever, I see. I am glad the sea air has not weathered that pretty face. Now, are you going to be a good boy?’

‘Um…’ The hand on his throat tightened, and Raoul said doubtfully, ‘I can try.’

Erik’s lips twitched. ‘Excellent. Get in.’

And Erik pulled him away from the carriage to open the door, practically throwing him inside. Raoul went immediately to the other door, and found it locked. He was pulled away into a firm embrace. His hair was pulled back, and he looked directly into the face of Erik. The side of it revealed to Raoul was devastatingly handsome. And the black eyes looking into Raoul’s were lit with passion, though whether it was with anger or desire, he could hardly tell. Quite possibly, it was both.

Raoul was torn between deep mortal fear, and a desire to kiss him.

The carriage had started to move. Without thinking about what he did, Raoul put a hand to Erik’s face. He tried to lean towards him, but was stopped by the hold on his hair. But then Erik lowered his head, and their lips met in a deep, fierce kiss.

Raoul’s arms slid under Erik’s coat, circling the firm muscles of his back. Erik’s hand slipped under Raoul’s backside, cupping the round cheek and gliding down the thigh, hooking under his knee to draw him closer still.

The hold on Raoul’s hair had grown slack, and he broke away to look out of the window. Erik growled and pulled him back.

‘Erik…’ Raoul began, and then surprised them both by bursting into tears. Erik watched him expressionlessly for a moment, before Raoul buried his face in Erik’s chest, his body racked with sobs.

‘Hush, Raoul.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’

‘What are you sorry about?’

‘I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I be-betrayed you.’

Raoul tucked his face in more deeply at these words, terrified at reminding Erik of his betrayal. A broad hand glided down his back.

‘I know, sweet one. Don’t be afraid.’

This ready faith in his words surprised Raoul. The Erik he knew was as suspicious of humanity in general as a feral cat.

Softly, Raoul asked, ‘How do you know?’

Erik lifted Raoul’s chin, smiling as he looked into his tearstained face. He took Raoul’s hand in his, thumbing the ruby on his left ring finger. ‘Because you are still wearing my ring.’

Kissing him again, Erik pulled him more securely into his lap, and Raoul moved to straddle him, winding his arms around his neck. He moaned as Erik palmed him through his breeches, and rolled his hips to feel the outline of Erik’s cock.

‘Is there time…?’ Raoul asked.

‘No,’ Erik said, smiling, as the carriage began to slow and turn. ‘We’re here.’

The carriage stopped. At the sound of the driver’s boots hitting gravel, Raoul quickly clambered off Erik’s lap, straightening his clothes and smoothing his hair, while Erik chuckled.

As the door opened, Erik pushed Raoul out of the carriage first, following close behind. They were in the courtyard of a house. Raoul turned to see the driver shutting and bolting the tall gate, closing them in.

A hand touched the small of his back. When Raoul turned to look at Erik, his upper arm was seized in a firm grip.

‘This is my house,’ Erik murmured in his ear, as he steered him inside. ‘You can be assured it is quite secure. Once my coachman has seen to the horses, there will be no one here but ourselves.’

Raoul heard the double implication of his words: first, that they would have privacy, and second, that there would be nobody to help Raoul if he wished to escape.

As Erik turned to lock the door behind them, Raoul looked around the hallway. It was a sturdily built stone house from the last century, and rather too plain and provincial for either Erik’s taste or Raoul’s. It must have been only a temporary dwelling.

Erik took hold of him again, taking him upstairs. Dread and arousal curled in Raoul’s gut as he was taken into a bedroom, and he stared at the four-poster bed hung with crimson draperies as Erik locked this door, too.

Raoul’s hand was on Erik’s arm, and for a moment Erik thought he was trying to stop him locking the door. Erik turned around, his hand lifting, but already Raoul was in his arms again, burrowing his face into his chest, and as Erik’s arms went around him, he felt the young man begin to weep again.

‘Ah, of course,’ Erik said softly. ‘I should have known you would be hysterical for at least half an hour before I could get any sense out of you.’

He thought he heard the viscount begin to laugh, though he continued still to cry.

Erik said, ‘You did miss me, didn’t you, my precious one?’

Raoul nodded into his chest, clinging to him like he feared being pried away.

‘There now, hush. If you are afraid I am going to leave you, you should know I am not letting you go anyway, and so there is no point worrying about it.’

As Raoul lifted his tearstained face to look at him, and Erik caught him again in a deep kiss. He lifted Raoul, and walked him over to the bed, dropping him on the covers. Gloved hands slipped under his uniform coat, finding his pockets, pulling out his watch, his pocketbook, his passport. Raoul was too thoroughly distracted by his kiss to realise what he was doing until Erik was breaking away to look at a small slip of yellow paper.

‘Wait!’ Raoul said, reaching for it.

But Erik pushed him back onto the bed, pinning him down with a strong knee as his black eyes flitted over the paper. Then he looked down at Raoul.

‘That is quite a curt love letter,’ Erik said smoothly. ‘So, our dear Christine has had a child, has she? And five months ago. That is very interesting. She doesn’t say whose child it is. Did Madame Valerius tell you?’

Raoul shook his head. ‘No. She doesn’t know anything about him.’

Erik’s eyes glittered. ‘Perhaps he is both yours and mine. Do you think that is possible, Raoul? I remember a time, about the right time, I think: a most delightful evening with the two of you lying prettily side-by-side, and both of us finished inside her. Do you remember, Raoul? It was the night of the masquerade, and the two of you were dressed as white and black dominoes. It was quite adorable.’

It was difficult for Raoul to answer. Though he remembered that evening perfectly, he was rather distracted by the knee that was pressing insistently into his crotch.

‘Uh… Yes. I remember.’

‘But I suppose statistically it must be more likely that I am the father. At least half the time, you would finish with nothing but my cock inside you. And then, perhaps my seed is stronger than yours. That would not surprise me.’

‘Indeed,’ Raoul said dryly.

Secretly, he was thinking of the several times that he and Christine had been together while Erik worked on his opera, too distracted to mind what they did, and made love in Raoul’s carriage, in Raoul’s bedroom, at Christine’s lodgings, or even on the roof of the opera house. They were not forbidden from making love without Erik. Yet it had felt very daring, doing so without his knowledge, their hearts light and easy without the domination of Erik. Of course, both rather liked to be dominated by him. But it came as an occasional relief to be free and uninhibited, with no fear of arousing that fiery temper.

Erik smirked, and leaned down to kiss Raoul. Drawing back, he said, ‘Now, Raoul, tell me – where are they?’

There was a moment where they both looked at each other. And in that moment, Erik realised that Raoul had no intention of telling him. And Raoul realised – a second later – that Erik had no intention of letting him get away with not telling him.

Raoul dropped his gaze, whispering, ‘I don’t know.’

Erik’s dark gaze burned into him. ‘Liar. Do you think I don’t know whose house I followed you to?’

‘Madame Valerius didn’t tell me where Christine is. She didn’t know.’

Erik’s eyes glinted as he loomed over Raoul, his hand wrapping around his neck. ‘You know, it is very dangerous to lie to me.’

Raoul looked up at him, eyes glistening. ‘I can’t tell you.’

‘Why not?’

‘If Christine wanted you to know where she is, she wouldn’t take lengths to hide from you.’

‘Ah, like you did, you mean? Bravely escaping to the Arctic? Not very gallant of you, abandoning a woman who might have been carrying your child.’

Raoul glared back at him defiantly. ‘I didn’t know where she was.’ Quickly, he added, ‘And I still don’t know.’

‘And what would you have done, had you found her?’ Erik asked. His voice was harsher than his usual velvet tone, anger colouring every word. ‘Would you have married her; saved her from disgrace?’

Raoul knew he ought not to be honest here, and so he opted only to hint at the truth. ‘Possibly.’

‘Insolent puppy,’ Erik snarled. ‘What I forbad before, I forbid still. You are not to marry Christine, nor any woman. You are not the sort of man that husbands are made of. You are my wife.’

The hand on Raoul’s neck had tightened as he spoke. Raoul clasped at his fingers, gasping, ‘Erik…’ And Erik hauled him up into a kiss, pulling Raoul’s coat from him, and pulling him around as he undressed him.

Unclothed, Raoul was thrown back onto the bed, pursued by Erik. He sat up, trying not to flinch as a hand closed around his neck again. He tugged at Erik’s sleeve.

‘Please, let me undress you.’

Erik was obviously smothering his impatience as he said, ‘Very well. If it pleases my wife.’

Erik watched Raoul peel his clothes from him. Removing his gloves, Raoul kissed those dangerous hands, hands he was quite certain would be punishing him soon enough. Next, Raoul’s lips trailed along the strong muscles of Erik’s chest, arms, and thighs as each were revealed to him. Finally, he knelt up on the edge of the bed to reach for the mask, looking into Erik’s eyes. He knew Christine had removed it without permission before, and had paid the price of his wrath.

‘May I?’

Erik smiled, his eyes dark and knowing. ‘Go ahead.’

And Raoul did so, pulling it gently away, and dropped it on the nightstand. The sight was already etched in his memory forever, but still it was a shock, after a whole year, to see the mottled skin, the hints of bone at his temple and his cheek. But Erik was still, still beautiful. Raoul’s lips trailed along the ravaged cheek, finding their way to his mouth.

And then Raoul lowered himself to kiss the head of Erik’s hardening cock. He took it into his mouth, tongue wrapping around the length of it before he bobbed his head, relaxing his throat so that he could take the rest. Erik snarled, gripping his hair. He held Raoul there a moment, throat swallowing reflexively around him as he looked up at him, eyes shining, and then pulled him back. Raoul licked at his cock as it left his mouth, tongue circling the head.

Then Raoul was hauled up and turned around, his legs drawn up wide beneath him, his upper body pressed down to the bed. Erik picked up Raoul’s discarded cravat, and put Raoul’s hands into the small of his back, tying them together.

Even as his breathing quickened and a whine of fear escaped him, Raoul’s cock, already achingly hard, began to leak. He lifted his arse, inviting, and whimpered as it was dealt a hard slap. There was a chuckle, and Raoul felt Erik’s hands and the glide of fabric between his legs. His cock twitched as it was taken in hand, and Raoul moaned as the fabric – Erik’s own cravat – was wrapped around the base of his cock and balls, tied securely in place.

There was a deep exhale behind him.

‘Now, Raoul. What shall I do with you?’

Raoul looked over his shoulder to see Erik’s eyes blazing down at him, his smile as soft as sin.

‘Please, fuck me, Erik.’

A hand traced the outline of one buttock, following the sweet round curve down to his thigh.

‘Oh, you want me to fuck you, do you?’

‘Yes, please.’

The hand disappeared. A moment later, oil-coated fingers were massaging his entrance. Raoul collapsed, moaning into the bedcovers.

‘Why do you want me to fuck you?’ Erik murmured.

‘Be-because I’ve missed you. And I have this feeling inside me that cannot be satisfied without —’

Something entered Raoul, but it was only Erik’s finger. It curled inward, pressing down on that sweet spot connected to his cock.

‘You mean this feeling here?’

‘Yes! Erik, please…’

‘What can’t it be satisfied without?’

‘Without your cock inside me.’

‘Ah, I see. Very well, then.’

Another finger pressed into Raoul. He could have wept in frustration as Erik took his time leisurely stretching him, with only occasional brushes over his prostate that had him panting for more.

Then the fingers disappeared. And Raoul did weep as he felt the mushroom head of Erik’s cock at his entrance. Erik leaned down over him. Raoul thought he was going to enter him, and braced himself. But he almost wailed in disappointment as Erik only kissed away a tear.

‘Are you alright, Raoul?’ Erik asked softly.

‘Y-yes…’

‘Then why are you crying?’

Raoul turned his face to look up at him. Erik was watching him tenderly, his brow crumpled slightly. It was the closest thing to concern Raoul had ever seen from him.

‘I just really want you to fuck me.’

Erik’s face relaxed immediately into a laugh. A hand ran lovingly through Raoul’s tousled waves and down his back.

‘Raoul, you are ridiculous. Anyone would think you were some spoiled imperial concubine.’

‘Please…’ Raoul whined.

‘Of course, my darling. I know how to take care of you.’

And Erik pressed in, settling over Raoul. Raoul inhaled sharply at the intrusion, but did not look away, letting Erik see the pain pricking at his eyes. He pressed up against Erik, wanting to feel as much of him as he could, loving the feeling of Erik’s broad chest covering his back, his strong arms hemming him in.

Erik apparently did too, for he wrapped his hand around Raoul’s neck again, holding him up to his chest. Raoul whimpered as he continued to push inside, his jaw flexing as he tried to manage the pain.

Erik looked at the side of Raoul’s face, and an interesting idea crossed his mind.

‘Have you lain with any man since Paris?’

Raoul shook his head. ‘No, monsieur.’

‘You’re lucky I believe you. You’re as tight as a virgin.’ When Raoul only whimpered in reply, Erik continued, ‘Does it hurt?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good.’

The hand tightened around his neck as Erik pushed his way home to the hilt, still not restricting, but very much there, and very much able to, whenever Erik chose.

Then Erik began to thrust. It was slow at first, with Raoul’s walls offering all the resistance they could. But they were soon forced to give way as Erik began to fuck him in earnest, sounds of pleasure escaping him in grunts and growls as he bent his head close to Raoul’s, their temples touching.

Raoul’s prostate was alive with electric pleasure. Raoul arched his back, spreading his legs, leaving himself as open as he could to the assault on his sweet spot that was only too happy to receive all it could. Raoul felt his orgasm mount quickly, and even felt his walls begin to flex around Erik’s cock, but he was stopped short by the cloth tied around his genitals, unable to come.

‘Erik…’ he moaned. ‘Please…’

Erik grunted. Too intent on finding his own pleasure in that tight body, he had forgotten how he had tied Raoul.

‘Please…’ Raoul whined plaintively.

‘Please what?’

‘Please may I come?’

Erik slowed his pace, breathing deeply as the thinking part of his brain slowly gained supremacy over the animal part, which was all in favour of ignoring Raoul and continuing to fuck him until he came inside.

His hand reached down to brush against Raoul’s tied genitals. Raoul jumped. And as Erik squeezed the exposed head of his cock, Raoul bucked back, wailing.

‘You want to come, do you?’ Erik asked with feigned surprise, as if this idea had not occurred to him.

Raoul dropped his head. ‘Yes, p-please, monsieur.’

The hand around Raoul’s throat shifted, constricting slightly.

In the silkiest voice imaginable, Erik said, ‘Who is your husband, Raoul?’

‘You are, Erik.’

‘And what are you?’

Hazily, Raoul’s mind tried to work out the answer to this. He hoped it was not some debasing insult. At the port in Svalbard, he had looked up the word “catamite” in an encyclopaedia. Though the other entries were in French, the definition for “catamite” was written only in Latin to prevent innocent persons reading it.

‘Y-your wife?’ Raoul asked hopefully.

‘That’s right, precious.’ Erik kissed his hair, fucking slowly into him. ‘And a good wife obeys his husband, doesn’t he?’

‘Yes, monsieur.’

‘I’m glad we’re in agreement. Now, tell me, where are Christine and our son?’

Raoul gasped, and shook his head. Erik’s eyes narrowed.

‘Tell me, and I will let you come.’

‘I… I can’t…’

Erik snarled, pushing him down onto the bed and pinning him there as he increased his pace, fucking Raoul hard and relentlessly. Raoul sobbed as pleasure coursed through him, tinged with pain at the rough penetration. His prostate felt inflamed, his cock and balls both ached with the orgasm that was still withheld. It felt almost like he was coming, only the pleasure would not crest, and frustration curled inside him.

‘Please…’

In a rougher voice, Erik said, ‘Tell me where they are.’

Raoul closed his eyes, gritting his teeth against the assault on his prostate. ‘No…’

Erik’s pace slowed again, almost stopping.

‘You know I would not hurt your child any more than I would my own,’ Erik said. When Raoul only replied with a stifled whimper, Erik added, ‘And I would not hurt my own child.’

‘Or Christine?’ Raoul asked, his voice small.

‘Or Christine,’ Erik agreed. It annoyed him to agree to this. Threatening to hurt Christine might have proved useful once they found her. But then, when it came to it, Raoul might not trust him to keep his word anyway.

‘I… can’t say…’

Erik shifted then, pressing the head of his cock directly onto Raoul’s prostate, rocking slowly back and forth. Raoul wailed, hips jerking uncontrollably.

‘Yes, you can, precious. Tell me, and then you can come.’

Raoul shook his head. ‘Please, don’t make me…’

‘It’s alright, precious. I am not going to hurt anyone. Don’t you want us all to be together again? Wouldn’t you like to see Christine again? Our son?’

And then it dawned on Raoul, through the fog of suspended orgasm, that Erik really wasn’t going to let him go. And if he didn’t tell Erik where Christine and the child were, he would never see her again, or him at all.

He let out a small, strangled sound, and fresh tears spilled from his eyes.

‘Hush, sweetheart. I’ve got you. All you have to do is tell me.’

‘New…’ Raoul began, but broke off in a sob.

Fingers curled his hair away from his face. Lips brushed his forehead. ‘Yes, darling?’

‘New Orleans.’

‘Very good. And the street?’

‘P-please…’

‘The street, Raoul.’

‘Rue… Rue Dauphine.’

Above him, there was a sigh of approval. Raoul wept in relief and shame as those cruel hands began to untie the cloth around him.

A kiss was dropped to his hair.

‘Good boy.’

And then the cravat was pulled loose, and Raoul came instantly, wailing, and fell into unconsciousness.

~*~

Someone was untying his hands when Raoul awoke. For a heady instant, Raoul could not remember where he was, who he was with, or what they had just been doing, and he rolled over to see who was behind him.

As soon as he saw Erik, everything came rushing back. Raoul hauled in a shuddering breath, and abruptly burst into tears. Erik watched him in surprise, and then gathered him up, reclining against the headboard with Raoul on his chest, and pulled the bedcovers around Raoul’s trembling form. Raoul curled up against him, crying more quietly now, the way a child does when they can’t help it. Erik kissed the crown of his head.

‘Are you in pain, sweet one?’

‘No. Well, a little. I…’ Raoul’s voice cracked, and Erik hugged him closer, kissing and soothing.

He did not understand why Raoul was crying – softer emotions often passed Erik by – but he didn’t mind it. No one had ever been so sweet and vulnerable with him the way Raoul was, and Christine used to be.

Raoul whispered, ‘I should not have told you.’

‘Ah. That’s what this is about, is it?’

Erik was rather annoyed. He had thought that Raoul was overcome with emotion at being reunited with him, but instead he was worrying over Christine.

‘What are you going to do?’ Raoul asked softly.

Matter-of-factly, Erik said, ‘I’m going to go to New Orleans and take a look at our son.’

‘But —’

Erik put a finger to Raoul’s lips, and said, ‘Like I said, I am not going to hurt him, or either of them. But really, Raoul – aren’t you curious about him?’

‘Yes,’ Raoul said, speaking honestly.

‘Then surely you can understand my feelings. Don’t you think I have a right to see him, if he is my son?’

‘Well… Yes, under ordinary circumstances.’

Erik smiled. ‘And what is so extraordinary about our circumstances? You are not going to be snobbish about the fact that our son is a bastard with two fathers?’

Raoul snorted. ‘No. I mean because most fathers do not threaten to kill their child’s mother.’

‘I don’t recall doing that. I thought I had threatened to kill you. Threatening to kill a rival father cannot be that unusual.’

As Erik spoke, his hand slid fondly down Raoul’s side, cupping the curve of his arse. But despite his light, teasing tone, he felt Raoul’s heart beat fast, and saw the tears come into his eyes before he hid his face against Erik’s chest.

‘You said you’d kill one of us, and probably me,’ Raoul mumbled, his voice muffled.

Erik lifted his chin, ignoring Raoul’s resistance, and looked into his tear-filled eyes. ‘I would never kill you. Even though you did send an entire police force after me. I only wanted to punish you a little. If the two of you had not chosen, I was going to take you, and find Christine later. Letting you go would have meant risking you going to the Arctic. Which, of course, you did anyway. But I had meant to have both of you in the end. It was a foolish game, and a foolish waste of time, too, which cost me dearly.’

Raoul’s eyes were flickering between Erik’s, as if trying to work out if he really meant what he was saying. But he was also reminded of another fact: that Erik really had killed people, and that Raoul knew he had killed both a stagehand and then a member of the theatre audience with the fallen chandelier.

‘But you have killed people before. That is why Christine – why we – wanted to leave you. Because we were afraid of you.’

As Raoul spoke, he ducked his head, running a placating hand over Erik’s chest, as if he feared arousing his temper.

‘Yes, I have killed people. But I have never had any intention of killing Christine, and have had no intention of seriously killing you since we were properly introduced, and I never will.’

The words “properly introduced” were spoken deep into Raoul’s ear, making him shiver as tingles tumbled down his scalp. He recalled the day when Christine had taken him to her dressing room to meet her singing master, and he had found the Phantom awaiting him, and Erik had brought him to his lair.

‘You are very soft, Raoul,’ Erik continued. ‘I know you have been in the navy; but you are still very young. You believe in good and evil as if they are real and absolute, and that anyone who has committed murder must be filled with wanton bloodlust all the time. I do not kill merely for the sheer pleasure of it.’

‘Have you killed anyone since then?’ Raoul asked. But as he put the question, he didn’t dare meet Erik’s eyes.

‘Do the six police officers I killed while leaving the opera house count?’

‘I…’ Raoul could argue that this was self-defence. But he knew that a man as adept as Erik could probably have left without killing anyone. Most likely, it had been an excess of murderous rage. ‘Not really.’

‘Then, no.’

‘So, you are improving.’ Raoul looked up at him with a small smile.

‘If you say so,’ Erik said, shrugging. ‘Really, I haven’t had any need to kill anyone since then.’

Raoul noticed the subtext: that Erik would readily kill someone if he thought there was any need. But there was some relief in knowing that Erik had not been going around murdering people simply for something to do.

Raoul’s mind travelled back down a different path, and he said, ‘What if you had known Christine was with child? Would you have kept her instead of me?’

‘What, and given you the chance to escape to the Arctic? Perhaps I might have chanced taking you both with me. You should know that this last year has been the longest in my life. And I was convinced all the time that you would die. If I could have helped it, I would never have let either of you go. And I will never allow us to fall into such circumstances again. Once we have found Christine, we shall never be parted again.’

‘We?’

‘Yes, Raoul, we.’ Erik gave him a sardonic look. ‘Don’t I keep saying that I am not letting you go? I am going to New Orleans, and you are coming with me.’

Raoul looked up at him, brow contracted, hazel eyes wide. It was the sort of expression Erik had never had directed at himself before meeting Christine and Raoul. He didn’t know what it meant, only he thought it was rather adorable.

‘I… I’m not sure we…’

Erik did not bother waiting for Raoul to scramble an objection together. He would not allow any argument anyway. Instead, he said, ‘You told me once that you loved me. Do you love me still, Raoul?’

‘I… I shouldn’t…’

Raoul tried to turn his face away, but Erik wouldn’t let him.

Erik’s voice dropped low and insistent. ‘Raoul.’

Raoul closed his eyes and said, ‘Yes, I do love you.’

‘And I love you,’ Erik said, lowering his lips to Raoul’s as his eyes fluttered open. His voice became a dangerous growl. ‘And I will never, ever let you go again.’

Chapter Text

It was far from marital harmony. The only thing they could agree on was that they should be having sex a lot. Which they did, a lot. But everything else was in constant dispute, arguments which often continued even while they had sex.

There could not be marital harmony, but there could, occasionally, be marital bliss.

Erik explained some of what he had been doing during their time apart. He had gone to Edinburgh, where he had laid low and kept in receipt of the Parisian newspapers for news of Raoul and Christine. He had hope that Christine would not have been able to resist performing someplace or other, and thought he might find some review of a peculiarly talented opera singer that would give her away. Now that he knew she had been with child, he was not surprised that she had kept a low profile.

As for how he had found Raoul so soon after his return, Erik had read a report in one of the Paris newspapers that the ship that had gone in search of the D’Artoi’s expedition had been sighted off the coast of Svalbard. Erik had gone immediately to Brest, which was to be its destined port, and taken a house there while he awaited Raoul. It had been a simple matter to follow him from the port to the house of Madame Valerius.

Raoul told Erik a little about the Arctic expedition. The voyage should have lasted only six months, but it had been unseasonably cold, and they had been stuck in ice a long time and repeatedly. They had been stalked by a polar bear. They had run low on food, and everybody hated each other. His superior officer had hated Raoul, and had kept trying to get him appointed on missions to hunt the bear in the hopes that it would kill him. Raoul spoke about it all in a flat, monotone voice, though without actually voicing any complaints, since he knew that Erik would only retort that he could have spent the last year in a warm bed, safe in Erik’s arms.

Or at least, safe from anyone but Erik.

~*~

They sailed only a few days later on a magnificent ocean liner in a gilded first class cabin. As they boarded the ship, Erik held tightly to Raoul’s arm, a precaution that was perfectly unnecessary, since Raoul would not let Erik see Christine without him if he could help it. And despite the fact that Erik was evil, cruel and violently deranged, Raoul could not think about leaving him without tears pricking his eyes and panic rising in his chest.

It was a difficult situation, being so in love and so diametrically opposed.

Raoul was not permitted to leave the cabin without Erik. After Raoul tricked a maid into letting him out, Erik warned the staff that his “little brother” was mentally unstable and prone to fits of wanton violence, and that the maid had been lucky to escape being strangled. The irony of it almost killed Raoul as he overheard Erik relay this information while he lay bound and naked on the bed, with only Erik’s body and the slant of the door keeping him out of sight of the concierge.

Locking the door, Erik removed his mask. Then he leisurely pulled off his coat and draped it over a chair, doing the same with his cravat, so that his shirt opened at the neck. Then he removed his cufflinks, placing them carefully alongside his mask, and rolled up his sleeves, baring his strong, sinewy forearms.

Raoul swallowed as Erik approached the bed. He pulled Raoul into his lap, belly down, stroking his bare backside, and grasping his round, rosy balls.

Conversationally, Erik said, ‘I wondered how long it would be before you would goad me into punishing you.’

Raoul twisted around to look at him. ‘I… That wasn’t my…’

The hand began to pat his rear. ‘And then,’ Erik went on, ‘I still owe you for your disloyalty; your double disloyalty, since you not only betrayed me, but ran away too.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Raoul said, his eyes beginning to shine as a lump rose in his throat. But he knew how futile those words were with Erik. He wanted to soothe him, to put a placating hand on his thigh, but Raoul’s hands were tied behind his back, and he could do nothing but watch him.

‘Yes, I know, my tender-hearted little lordling. And, you know, I have thought about it all often. It must have been frightening for you, opposing yourself to me. Is that right, Raoul?’

Raoul lowered his eyes as he whispered, ‘Yes, monsieur.’

‘Ah, how sweet you are. I never know whether you are doing it on purpose or not.’

Raoul, who knew very well when he was being adorable on purpose, and had no idea when he was doing it by accident, said nothing.

Erik’s hand squeezed the flesh of Raoul’s buttock, and then both hands parted his cheeks to see the tender hole. Erik smirked as it twitched in trepidation beneath his gaze.

‘You know, punishing a man provides so many more options than punishing a woman. You can spank a woman’s most intimate parts –’ As Erik spoke, his fingers circled Raoul’s entrance, ‘– and most of the time she will enjoy it, unless you are truly forceful. Of course, their breasts are very sensitive.’ Here, Erik reached up with his other hand, and pinched Raoul’s nipple, making him gasp. ‘But one must be careful not to push too far. Yet with a man –’ The hand on Raoul’s arse travelled lower, grasping his balls, and then pulling Raoul’s plump cock back between his legs, ‘– one need hardly push at all to create the most exquisite pleasure, or mortifying pain.’ Erik squeezed Raoul’s cock, and then leaned down and bit Raoul’s ear, whispering, ‘Do you understand?’

Raoul, too stunned with fear to move, though his cock pulsed wantonly in Erik’s hand, stumbled for a reply. ‘Un-understand…?’

‘Do not cross me again, or I will make you regret it.’

Raoul felt his stomach clench in terror and relief. ‘Yes, monsieur. I’m sorry.’

‘Good boy.’

He released Raoul’s cock, and dealt it a quick slap that had Raoul jerking and crying out. Erik pushed him down so that he lay flat in his lap, his hand winding in his hair to keep his head down. His other hand rubbed circles into his arse. At the first whimper from Raoul, the hand lifted, and came down hard.

Raoul gasped. For the next few blows, he kept himself as still as he could, whining softly at each impact. But as the pace and force increased, the mounting pain caused him to wail. The hand moved from his hair to cover his mouth.

‘Quiet, darling. We can’t have people thinking I’m abusing my poor disturbed little brother, can we?’

Raoul almost laughed, but the sound was changed to a groan as another heavy slap fell, followed by several more. He watched Erik out of the corner of his eye as the man kneaded the sore flesh of his arse.

‘Do you want to see what you look like?’ Erik asked softly. His eyes glittered, and there was amusement in his voice. ‘Because you look like what you are – a naughty little boy.’

Raoul had thought this was a rhetorical question, but Erik released his mouth to allow him to reply. ‘Um…’

Erik smirked, and got up, pulling Raoul to his feet, and over to the wardrobe set into the cabin wall, which was covered in a floor-length mirror. He turned Raoul in his arms, who looked back over his shoulder to see his plump pink and red arse, handprints standing out stark at the edges of his buttocks. And above them, his hands were tied tight in the small of his back. Behind him stood Erik, clothed in immaculate black and white, standing a whole head taller than Raoul, who was not short, his hands and eyes sliding proprietorially over his body.

The sight made his cock jump, and yet tears sprang into his eyes. He turned back, leaning into Erik’s chest. If his hands had been free, he would have clung to him. Arms circled his waist. As his hands were untied, Raoul sucked in a sob.

Erik lifted his chin to look at him. He frowned at what he saw there, but Raoul could not tell if it was with concern or displeasure. Raoul hid his face in his chest, wrapping his arms tight around him.

‘What is the matter, precious? It is not so very painful, is it?’

Raoul shook his head. Erik held him, petting his hair as he cried. Erik was rather at a loss for how to move forward. He wanted very much to bury himself inside that pretty red arse. The Raoul he remembered had been light-hearted and easy, and unafraid to tease him. But since they had been reunited, his feelings had been rather… delicate. And certainly far too complicated for Erik to understand.

‘I love you,’ Raoul mumbled, as his tears finally eased off.

‘I know, darling. And I love you.’

Raoul looked up at him, his eyes wet. ‘Really?’ he asked, as Erik bent to kiss his tears away.

‘Yes, of course, really. How can you doubt that?’

‘But you have been so angry with me.’

‘Ah.’ Erik’s eyes flickered in thought. Perhaps that was what Raoul had seen, looking at his battered backside: the red marks of fury on his skin. ‘Of course, I have been angry at you.’ Erik felt Raoul tremble afresh, and quickly went on, ‘But I am not anymore. How could I be anything but angry at you, when you betrayed me? It is because I love you that I have been so angry at you. Do you not understand that?’

Raoul bit his lip, his eyes filling with tears again. ‘I’m sorry…’

‘Yes, I know you are. And I am not angry anymore, as I have said.’

He cupped Raoul’s backside, kissing the top of his head. But Raoul still had something on his mind.

‘I… Christine said…’ But he trailed off, afraid suddenly of saying something that would bring Erik’s displeasure on Christine. And he was struggling to remember her precise words.

‘Yes, sweetheart? What did our lovely Christine say?’

‘That when she confronted you about the chandelier – I am sorry to mention it, I…’

Raoul’s breath came quick, and he seemed on the verge of collapsing into tears again. Erik lifted him into his arms, and took them over to the bed, pulling Raoul into his lap, cradling him, kissing lips, nose, cheeks, and forehead.

‘There is no need to be so afraid of me. Like I said, I am not angry anymore.’

‘I know,’ Raoul said in a small voice, ‘and I want to keep you that way.’

A soft laugh ghosted his hair. ‘Devious little minx. As if I didn’t already know how you try to manipulate me. Now, tell me – what did Christine say?’

Raoul shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

And he shifted his leg, letting his knee press into Erik’s erection, which had remained untroubled by Raoul’s display of emotion, and had been clamouring persistently to be inside Raoul all this time.

Their eyes met, and Raoul said in his most caressing voice, ‘Will you fuck me now?’

Erik growled, wrapping his hand around Raoul’s throat. ‘Of course, my darling boy.’ And then Erik’s brain caught up with his dick, and he added, ‘Once you have told me what Christine said that has so distressed you.’

Raoul groaned, collapsing against him, his coquettish manner dissipating quickly. Erik smirked, shifting the hold on his neck to cup his jaw, holding him close.

‘You are incorrigible,’ Raoul grumbled.

‘Yes. And your vocabulary has expanded.’

‘Perhaps…’ Raoul debated whether he would say his next words. He took a deep breath, and let them out in a tumble. ‘But there is one word that I struggle with. Erik, what does the word “catamite” mean to you?’

Raoul did not look up, but toyed with the signet ring on Erik’s left hand: the ring Raoul had had made for him, with a Death’s head insignia.

‘Did Christine tell you I called you that?’

‘Yes.’ Still Raoul did not look at him, though he went on playing with Erik’s fingers, as if to reassure him that he was not angry.

‘Hmm.’ Erik turned Raoul’s face up, looking into his bright hazel eyes. ‘It means that you are mine, my lover, my concubine, my boy-wife. Why, do you object to the term? I’m sure I have called you worse, and you did not object.’

Raoul shook his head. ‘I only want to know that you don’t despise me because I like to have your cock inside me.’

Erik’s eyes were lit with hunger as he said, ‘Why would I despise you for that? It is illogical. I love having my cock inside you. And I love you coming on my cock when it is inside you. In fact… No, I can wait no longer. If you want to undress me, you had better do it fast.’

And he turned Raoul off of his lap, opening the drawer of the nightstand to get at the vial of oil there. It was so sudden, that Raoul was stunned for a moment, and then began to laugh. But as Erik turned back to him and pushed him onto the bed, he realised that the man was being serious about being fast.

He sat up. Erik had already removed his coat, and Raoul deftly unbuttoned his waistcoat. Raoul had barely finished pulling it off of him when he was pushed onto his back, his bruised rear pulled to the edge of the bed, dragging roughly on the covers, and an oiled finger was worked into him.

Raoul began to sit up, but another finger was pushed in alongside it, curling inward, and he fell back with a moan.

‘How easily distracted you are,’ Erik said, his voice light and casual, as if they were sipping coffee together at a café. ‘Really, Raoul, make yourself useful. It is awfully constricting in here.’

Raoul started to raise himself again, but hesitated, unsure of how to reach for Erik’s clothes without displacing his fingers. Erik solved the problem by moving Raoul to lie on his side, pulling his arse towards him to admire the still stark redness, and working a third finger into him.

Erik’s crotch was before his face. Raoul’s hands trembled as he reached for the buttons of his breeches. As he lifted Erik’s shirt away, Erik took it from his hand, pulling it off himself and dropping it on the floor. Raoul’s prostate ached with longing as Erik’s long, thick cock sprang free.

Erik hissed as Raoul took him into his mouth, reverently kissing the head as he gently rolled Erik’s balls in his hand. He let his tongue spread out below the length, and then ducked his head, swallowing as much as he could. A hand closed in Raoul’s hair, and Erik shifted him so that his head lay parallel to his body, facing Erik sideways on. Erik pushed him down with gentle insistence, pressing slowly into his throat as he gagged, feeling the delicate spasms and vibrations as Raoul fought, obediently, to relax.

When Raoul’s lips touched the base of his cock, Erik held him there, revelling in the subtle noises of his gagging. Raoul’s eyes had closed in his effort to swallow down Erik’s cock, but he saw the eye on the side turned up to him open, watching Erik with dazed submission.

Slowly, Erik pulled out. He relished the feeling of Raoul panting around the head of his cock, connected to him by thin strings of saliva. Then, unable to resist, he plunged back in, feeling the delightful spasms once again. He felt a clenching around his fingers, and remembered that he had been preparing to fuck Raoul. He withdrew, and pulled Raoul’s arse to him, pushed his long, lean legs up to his chest, pulled his fingers out, and plunged inside.

Raoul groaned. Pleasure shot from his sweet spot to his dick, pre-come oozing from the tip. It was only once Erik was pressed in to the hilt that Raoul realised he still wore his breeches, the material of which rubbed against his sensitive arse.

Lying on his side, Raoul let himself relax utterly, basking in the pleasure of being fucked, and the pain of the stretch and the burn of his arse. As Erik drew back, Raoul squeezed around the head of his cock, making him growl. A hand smacked his upturned buttock, making him yelp.

‘Wicked little harlot.’

Raoul laughed, and Erik growled again as the vibration travelled through his body. He leaned over Raoul, pinning him by his neck.

‘You think it’s funny to tease your husband, do you?’

Raoul’s eyes slid to Erik’s face, dark with desire. ‘Yes, monsieur.’

‘That’s what I thought.’

His hand tightened around Raoul’s neck as he leaned in to kiss him, and Raoul clamped down again on his cock, smiling as the lips on his went slack.

‘You like that, don’t you?’ Raoul asked, his voice an uncanny imitation of Erik’s own commanding tone.

Erik let out a surprised laugh, and then drew back, appraising him with glimmering black eyes. ‘You are tempting the devil, little one.’

Raoul thought that only Erik, who was at least six feet four inches in height, would call another grown man “little one.”

‘You told me not to be afraid of you.’

‘I told you there was no reason to be so afraid of me. You lack finer comprehension skills.’

In response, Raoul gave an impish smile, and squeezed down on Erik’s cock again. Erik hissed, and then slammed home to the hilt. Raoul gasped. Erik drew him closer, nails digging into the tender flesh of Raoul’s hip. The hand on Raoul’s throat constricted until Raoul was struggling for breath, and he felt the pressure mount in his skull. All the while, Erik fucked him deep and ruthlessly. Lips trailed along Raoul’s temple.

‘You like that, don’t you, little one?’

Raoul could manage only a weak, semi-aspirated moan. There was a dark chuckle by his ear. Raoul clenched down again, only this time he couldn’t help it as his arse spasmed helplessly in orgasm. Erik straightened up and reached between Raoul’s legs, drawing back his tight balls and blushing cock, thumbing the fluid that seeped from the tip. Raoul’s body jerked as his nail brushed the sensitive slit. But he did not voice an objection.

Erik leaned over him again to look at his face, and found that Raoul had passed out. He smirked, releasing his throat, and saw him draw in a heavy breath, though he did not awake. He gently laid Raoul’s head down, stroking through the hyacinthine waves, and then resumed fucking him at a more leisurely pace.

It wasn’t until Raoul’s inner walls were flexing once more and his cock had begun to spurt again that Raoul wakened with a moan. Erik smiled down at him, fondly amused by the lost look in his eye as he seemed to be struggling to remember where he was, what was happening, and why his prostate was being milked for all it was worth.

After a moment, Raoul began to whimper. He lifted a trembling hand to Erik’s arm, the hand of which was gripping Raoul’s hip.

‘Please, Erik. It hurts…’

Erik shifted, directing his thrusts away from Raoul’s overstimulated prostate. ‘Is that better, sweet one?’

Raoul shook his head, and looked pleadingly up at Erik, his eyes damp. ‘Please just come. Please…’

Erik’s eyes gleamed. ‘Of course, my darling.’

Erik kissed him fiercely, and then picked up the pace again. Raoul whined as he was pushed down into the mattress, Erik’s hips pummelling his sore backside while his cock stretched his aching hole.

‘Please…’

And, finally, Erik came deep inside, swallowing Raoul’s whimpers in a kiss.

~*~

‘It was better when Christine was with us,’ Raoul said sleepily. It was some time later, and Erik was gently massaging ointment into Raoul’s entrance in an attempt to counteract the rough treatment it had received. Raoul continued, ‘It is too much for one person to bear your appetite.’

Erik smirked. ‘Do you think so? I remember she used to complain about your appetite as well as mine. She said she was grateful we had each other.’

‘Hmm.’

Raoul seemed on the verge of falling asleep. Erik settled down behind him, pulling him into his arms. A hand closed over Raoul’s limp cock.

‘Don’t, please…’ Raoul whined wearily.

‘Do you miss it, Raoul?’ Erik murmured low in his ear. ‘Sinking your cock into a nice, warm body?’

‘Well, if you’re offering…’

Erik huffed a surprised laugh. ‘You’re becoming rather too daring, sweetheart,’ he said, running his fingers warningly down Raoul’s throat.

But really, Erik was pleased. Of course, he had no intention of letting Raoul fuck him. He really didn’t despise Raoul for enjoying his cock, but he could not imagine the appeal himself. The fact that Raoul enjoyed both having a man inside him and being inside a woman did not make a lot of sense to Erik either. But since it had led to many a pleasurable situation, Erik was rather glad that Raoul’s apparently contrary tastes were as they were.

Erik’s tastes were simpler. He liked to put his dick in pretty people, and have them under his domination. And Raoul and Christine were as pretty as they came.

Still, Erik was glad that Raoul was becoming more like his usual self. Evidently, Raoul’s doubts about Erik’s love for him had weighed on him just as heavily as his fear that Erik would kill him.

Raoul tilted his head back, baring his throat to Erik’s threatening fingers. Erik gently circled his neck with his hand, leaning over Raoul to kiss the side of his mouth, his cheek, his ear.

‘It’s different though, isn’t it?’ Raoul said, yawning.

Erik thought over what they had just been speaking about for a connection. ‘What is?’

‘Bedding a woman. Feels different.’

‘I’m sure it feels very different for you,’ Erik said, and Raoul could hear the smirk in his voice.

‘Hmm, yes. But inside, it’s different. All those ridges, and the way it just hugs you. It’s kind of comforting.’

‘Comforting? Raoul, you are simply bizarre. What man thinks about such a thing when he is inside a woman?’

‘It’s nice,’ Raoul insisted.

‘I agree with you,’ Erik said. He chuckled warmly into Raoul’s ear, making him wince as tingles shot down his spine.

Then Raoul said, ‘If Christine is happy to see us, I want to be the first inside her.’

Erik snorted. ‘You must have a death wish.’

‘We can fight for the privilege.’

‘Raoul, go to sleep. You are talking nonsense.’

Raoul turned around, snuggling into him, his eyes already shut. ‘I love you.’

‘I know. I love you, too.’

‘And I love Christine. And I’d really like to be inside her again. It might give me the incentive I need to overpower you.’

At this, Erik put a hand over his mouth. ‘Raoul, if you don’t be quiet and go to sleep, I will smother you unconscious.’

He waited, but Raoul said nothing. And after a moment, hearing his breathing slowly rise and fall, Erik realised he had fallen asleep.

Chapter Text

Raoul stood on the doorstep of the house in Dauphine Street, New Orleans, feeling strangely exposed without the presence of Erik at his shoulder, almost like walking out into chill air without the comfort of a coat. It had been a surprise to Raoul when Erik had stopped the carriage at the corner of Toulouse and Bourbon Streets, and told him to go ahead without him.

‘What? Why?’ Raoul had asked.

‘Because I imagine Christine will be far happier to see you than me. I would rather that one of us gained admittance to the house than neither of us.’

As Erik spoke, he adjusted Raoul’s collar and cravat, no doubt hiding the marks on his neck.

‘I’m sure you could find a way to gain admittance if you wanted,’ Raoul said, his manner gently sardonic.

The corner of Erik’s mouth twitched. ‘Of course. But it would be good to begin on friendly terms, wouldn’t it? And in such a situation, perhaps a more delicate touch than mine would be beneficial. You can smooth the way for me.’

‘I can try,’ Raoul said, anxious. From what he remembered of Christine’s attitude towards Erik before they had left Paris, he thought it likely that nothing would sway her in Erik’s favour.

Erik kissed him softly. ‘Don’t fret, dear one. All you can do is try.’

But as Raoul stood before the door of Christine’s townhouse, his confidence in his ability to even try to persuade Christine was far from high. And he was quite certain that he ought not to even try. After all, Christine had every right not to want to see Erik, and Raoul thought he had little to no right to persuade her to it. A week ago, he would never have dreamed of attempting it. But now that he was with Erik again, it was becoming harder to remember all the very good reasons why he shouldn’t be.

The door opened, and a maid greeted him. After he had told her his name and title, she gasped, curtsied, and showed him through to the parlour, her eyes darting back at him as she led him. Raoul wondered if Christine had mentioned him to her servants, or whether the woman’s awe was simply because aristocrats were scarce in this part of the world.

The house was light and airy, with fans spinning above to counteract the hot humidity of Louisiana. There was an English piano forte in the corner, and the room was newly furnished and papered in the latest Belle Époque style. Evidently, Madame Valerius had forwarded funds to Christine to set her up in the New World in lavish style.

No sooner had Raoul sat down, than he heard light feet run downstairs, and he stood up just as the door opened, and Christine appeared.

‘Raoul! It’s you! Oh, thank God!’

And she flung her arms around him, clinging tight.

‘Christine!’

Raoul picked her up and spun her around so that she laughed. No sooner had he set her down, than their lips met in a frantic kiss. Christine seemed, if anything, even more desperate and wildly happy than Raoul.

‘My God,’ she said, moving to kiss his nose, his brow, and all over his face. ‘I thought I’d lost you. I thought he’d kill you for certain. Oh, Raoul! If only I’d waited; if only I’d known you would get away!’

‘Did Madame Valerius tell you what had happened to me?’

‘Yes, Raoul. And fancy going to the Arctic, after all of that! Really, sometimes I think you cannot be quite sane.’

‘No, probably not.’

Raoul drew back, holding her at arm’s length to look at her. Christine was as radiantly beautiful as ever, her long brown hair falling in a Bohemian tumble of curls, wearing a white tea gown trimmed with blue lace that flowed down the lines of her body. Her azure eyes sparkled with fondness.

Noticing Raoul’s admiration, Christine smiled teasingly and said, ‘Well, are you happy to see me?’

‘Christine, I can hardly contain myself.’

And he ducked his head to kiss her hand, and then pulled her close, winding an arm around her waist, and kissed the swell of her breasts above her gown, making her laugh again.

‘Did you have fun in the Arctic, Raoul? Did you kill any polar bears?’

‘No and no. I only killed one polar bear.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘How exciting.’

‘Not really.’

And Christine snickered as he went to kiss her again. ‘Raoul, you are utterly mad.’

They soon broke apart as the door swung in again, and the maid who had seen Raoul in appeared with a tray. Raoul and Christine both looked away from each other, each trying not to smirk as she set it down.

‘Thank you, Jeanne,’ Christine said. ‘I think you said something about visiting your mother today? Please, feel free to go. I shan’t be needing you this afternoon.’

Jeanne glanced at Raoul, and then dropped a quick curtsey. ‘Thank you, madame.’

Once she was gone, Christine went to the door and locked it. Then she went to the window, peering down the street before she closed the curtains. Raoul noticed that she still wore the black diamond ring that Erik had given her, and his stomach fluttered.

‘I ought to have done that earlier,’ she murmured. But she hardly had time to ruminate on how many neighbours might have seen her embracing and kissing a strange man in her parlour, before Raoul was lifting her from behind, and depositing her on her back on the canapé sofa. As Raoul settled over her, she drew up her legs, parting them on either side of him, and raised her head for a kiss.

‘Christine, you are not a good hostess,’ Raoul said, kissing her knee where her skirt had fallen away. ‘You ought to have asked if I am hungry.’

Christine lifted herself onto her elbows, staring at him in confusion. ‘Are you hungry, Raoul?’

He gave an impish grin. ‘Oh, yes. Starving.’

And he pushed her back onto the sofa, then pulled back her long silk skirt, delighted to find she wore nothing beneath it apart from a gauzy chemise. Pulling her towards him, he pushed her thighs to her chest, and sought out her sweet, velvety folds, his tongue trailing lightly between them before finding her clit, kissing and licking so that she moaned and writhed.

Her hands closed in his hair. ‘My God. You are too good at this. Don’t stop!’

Raoul suppressed the urge to laugh, and pressed his tongue inside her, lapping at the spot inside that always drove her wild with desire. Christine rocked her hips, desperate sounds spilling from her mouth.

Then the tongue withdrew, and two fingers were worked inside of her, sliding into her slick entrance with ease. Raoul’s mouth returned again to her clit as his fingers pressed down insistently on her sweet spot.

Christine began almost to sob, her legs winding around Raoul’s neck, keeping him close as she rocked into him. Her orgasm crashed over her in waves, and she felt her inner walls flex desperately around his fingers. At once, the tongue on her clit became too much. Christine resisted the urge to kick Raoul away, instead loosening her legs and pulling him back gently by his hair.  The fingers withdrew, and Raoul smirked at her as he licked the slick from them.

‘That’s a lovely colour you have,’ Raoul said conversationally. ‘Rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. One might think you had been taking healthful exercise.’

Christine rolled her eyes, and fell back against the cushions. ‘I should have known you would be just as bad as ever. You are a libertine. A disgrace to the Chagny name.’

‘Why, thank you.’

Christine sat up, giving his arm a playful smack. Raoul raised one of the cushions – perhaps to defend himself, perhaps to throw at her – but Christine dropped back down again. Her foot found his crotch, nudging the bulge there. She let her eyes fall half-closed, and in the sultriest voice imaginable, said, ‘I want you inside of me, right now.’

Raoul swallowed. It was hard not to simply do as she asked. But he made himself speak. ‘Before we get too far, you should know —’

And then a wailing sound broke the air.

For a second, Raoul could not at all think what it was. And then he realised he had completely forgotten about the baby. He dropped the cushion as Christine disentangled herself and got to her feet.

‘Gustave must have woken up, and his nurse is out as well as Jeanne,’ she said.

‘Gustave…?’ Raoul repeated. His eyes trailed between the door and Christine, whose dress had fallen back into elegant lines.

‘I named him for my father,’ she said, unlocking and opening the door. She turned back to extend a hand to Raoul. ‘Come, you can see him.’

Raoul stood up. He was grateful to feel his erection waning. He did not want to meet Christine’s infant son – possibly his son, too – in such a state.

He followed Christine upstairs. They had almost reached the landing when the wailing stopped. Christine made a small noise of surprise, and then went to a door, and opened it. Raoul saw her stop.

‘Christine? What is it?’

And then Raoul froze too as he joined her. There was a man standing in the nursery, standing before the white crib with his back to them. A very tall man with black hair, who was dressed in black also. He was singing under his breath.

‘Erik,’ Christine breathed.

And Erik turned around. He had the baby in his arms. He did not wear his mask, and the child was looking up, mesmerised, into his face. Christine began to tremble.

In a caressing voice, Erik said, ‘How lovely to see you again, Christine.’

There was a breathless pause, and then Christine swayed, and fell. Raoul caught her before she dropped to the floor. He had lifted Christine before, but he struggled to support her dead weight.

‘Christine?’ he said, brushing back her hair and looking into her face.

Erik replaced the baby in the crib, and then came over, taking Christine from Raoul’s arms with ease, and depositing her on a chaise longue set diagonally to the crib. He straightened up. They both looked from Christine, to each other.

‘Erik… just what are you doing here? Did you want to frighten her to death, or something?’

Erik shrugged. ‘I wanted to see the baby. I confess, I did not much take Christine’s feelings into consideration.’

‘No?’ Raoul said testily. ‘How very surprising.’

Erik fixed him with a commanding look. ‘Do not be insolent, Raoul.’

Raoul glared at him, despite the tension coiling in his stomach, warning him to be cautious. ‘If you have killed her, I will be more than insolent.’

Erik gave a slow, dangerous smile, taking Raoul’s hand, his fingers feeling the ruby ring. ‘Come. Take a look at our son.’

And Erik dropped his hand, turning back to the crib to lift Gustave out again, who gurgled quietly, kicking his legs. Raoul felt his stomach tense again.

Behind him, came the voice of Christine. ‘Erik, put him down.’ She tried to say it firmly, but her voice shook. Raoul looked around, and saw her raise herself from the couch.

‘Certainly,’ Erik said, smiling. ‘You can come and take him yourself, if you like.’

Christine hesitated, and then went past Raoul, taking the child from Erik’s arms, wincing as Erik’s large hand came up to gently cup his head. Then she gathered him to her chest, backing away from Erik and back to Raoul. Raoul looked curiously at the boy, but his face was hidden in the lace of Christine’s gown. He saw, however, that he had a head of short, fine brown hair.

‘What are you doing here?’ Christine demanded of Erik. She looked sharply at Raoul. ‘Did you bring him here?’

‘I…’

‘On the contrary,’ Erik said smoothly, leaning an elbow on the crib as he looked at them. ‘I took Raoul here.’

Christine looked from Raoul to Erik, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘I told Mama Valerius to give my whereabouts only to the Vicomte de Chagny.’ She rounded on Raoul. ‘Raoul – what have you done?’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean t—’

But before Raoul could explain himself, Erik stepped in.

‘Do not blame Raoul. You tried to hide the location of our son from me. Now, I am not angry with you, in fact, I understand your reasoning. However —’

‘Oh, you are not angry at me? How very generous of you,’ Christine said waspishly. ‘You really think you can do anything, don’t you? Who gave you permission to enter my house?’

‘The maid I met outside. I am not a trespasser. I told her I was with the Vicomte de Chagny, and she bid me to go in. Since the two of you were evidently distracted, I decided to comfort the baby myself. It is not my fault that you left our child upstairs alone while the front door was unlocked.’

Christine clenched her teeth. ‘How dare you…? How dare you criticise me for leaving my child alone for a moment in my own house! How you can ever presume moral superiority over anyone, I don’t know.’

‘I am not speaking of morality,’ Erik said calmly. ‘I am speaking of common sense. Anyone could come in; a murderer might have done so with ease.’

‘Ah, yes. Great ease, apparently,’ Christine said, irony dripping from her voice.

But if Erik was offended, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gave a sharp, sharklike smile. And Raoul thought it was little wonder that Christine clutched her child tighter to her.

‘I am not here to argue with you,’ Erik said. ‘I am only here to see you and the child.’

‘Well, you have seen us both, so you can leave now.’

‘I did not say for what length of time I desired to see you both.’

Christine made a noise of impatience in the back of her throat. But, glancing at her, Raoul rather thought she was fighting a smile. There was a gleam of amusement in Erik’s eyes, too; a gleam that was goading her to laugh.

‘Raoul,’ Erik spoke again, addressing him, ‘don’t you want to see our son?’

Raoul looked to Christine. ‘May I?’

Christine worried her lip, looking anxiously at Erik. ‘You won’t give Gustave to him, will you?’

Raoul glanced at Erik, whose cool demeanour did not change one bit, except that he lifted a dark brow on the unblemished side of his face.

‘N-no. Of course not.’

He did not sound very convinced, yet Christine turned to him, loosening her hold on Gustave to pass him into Raoul’s arms. Raoul’s eyes traced over the boy’s face. His skin was fair, almost untouched by the sun. And, as Raoul had already noted, his hair was dark brown, and showing signs that it would soon curl. He thought the infant was a little large for five months, but Raoul was no expert in such matters. He could tell no distinguishing features from the boy’s face, which was as flawless and nondescript as that of most babies. The child’s eyes were shut, but as Raoul’s fingers traced gently over his forehead, they fluttered open. Two dark eyes, such a dark brown they were almost black, the pupil nigh indistinguishable from the iris, looked up at him.

Raoul lifted his head, and his eyes met the deep black eyes of Erik. Erik gave him a broad smile.

‘Yes,’ Erik said softly. ‘Our son. Mine more than yours, I think. But still, our son.’

Raoul looked again at the little boy, who was watching him intently. He felt his brow furrow in concern: concern about what Erik would do, and how Christine would take it, and whether any of them would make it out of there alive. A little hand reached up, touching Raoul’s brow curiously. Raoul smiled, and the baby broke into a smile, too. He let a gurgling laugh.

Erik stepped forward, and at once Christine put out her arms to take Gustave. But when Erik closed in too quickly, she settled for turning to face him, putting herself between him and the baby, while Raoul clutched the infant to his chest, watching Erik guardedly.

Erik sighed. ‘Why are you both so convinced I am going to harm the baby? I would not hurt my own son.’

‘You threatened to kill Raoul,’ Christine said, her chin jutting defiantly as she glared up at him. ‘We both know what you’re capable of.’

‘Threatening to kill, and meaning to kill, are two different things.’

‘But you like killing people, don’t you?’ Christine said. ‘You like domination. You enjoy dominating Raoul. Would you not enjoy killing him?’

Raoul wanted to beg Christine to be quiet, only he didn’t dare speak. He did not especially like to hear her goad Erik about killing him, even if only to make a point.

Erik’s eyes flashed fire. ‘No, I would not. Tell me Christine, would you enjoy killing that child behind you? Would you rejoice that you had defied me, and murdered my progeny? The idea offends you, I see. Well, the question is as insulting as the one you have put to me. No, I would not enjoy killing Raoul. How am I to get another Raoul, if I have killed him? It is absurd.’

Raoul’s and Erik’s eyes met over Christine’s head. For a fleeting moment, Raoul had a near-compulsion to step out from behind Christine and go to him. He would have even passed him the child if he’d asked for him. But then Erik’s gaze dropped back to Christine, as she spoke again.

‘You could always get another child,’ Christine murmured.

Erik stepped forward with a snarl, and Christine recoiled into Raoul.

‘For the last time, I am not going to kill Raoul, or Gustave, or any of you. No, not even you, Christine, though you seem determined to make yourself as hateful to me as possible.’

‘I… I don’t mean to antagonise you,’ Christine said, and there were tears in her eyes and in her voice. ‘I only want to know that we are safe with you.’

Erik’s mouth twitched. ‘That depends on what you mean by safe. Formerly, I did not think you always liked to feel safe.’

‘That Gustave is safe, then,’ Christine said, her cheeks glowing under his gaze. ‘He is only an infant. I cannot have you punishing him, or losing your temper, or throwing him out a window.’

‘Please give me some credit. I understand that infants are delicate, as well as I understand the interactions between gravity, skulls, and paving slabs.’

Christine suppressed a smile. Raoul could hardly see her face, but Erik could, and knew that she was fighting an internal battle: a battle she was close to losing.

‘We betrayed you,’ Christine said, as if clutching at a final straw. ‘Are you not angry with us?’

‘Certainly, I have been very angry. But Raoul has already been punished for the both of you. Justice, I find, has been satisfied in that regard. Of course, if you want me to hurt you, I would be happy to oblige.’

As he said these last words, Erik closed the gap between them, his arm winding around her waist, pulling her to him.  Christine’s fingers traced his jaw on the blemished side of his face. Erik caught her other hand, her left, feeling the black diamond she wore on her finger.

‘You’re a bad man,’ Christine whispered.

Erik imitated her low tone as he said, ‘So you’ve told me.’

And then he lifted her up into a deep kiss.

Raoul stepped back, cradling Gustave. He didn’t go too far, in case either of them thought he was going to dash downstairs with him.

He had not expected Christine to cave so soon, or even to cave at all. She had seemed so determinedly against Erik. But then, Raoul recalled how he himself had melted under that threatening, adoring gaze. He could not blame Christine for being unable to resist.

Before Raoul had realised that they had broken apart, he noticed that Erik was looking at him over Christine, whose head rested on his chest, held close by the hand in her brown curls. Erik was smiling at him fondly, his eyes gentle in a way they normally only ever were after he had been thoroughly satisfied.

‘Raoul, are you alright?’ Erik asked.

Christine pulled back slightly, turning her head to look at Raoul. ‘You’re in a daze.’

‘You can put Gustave down now,’ Erik said. ‘He doesn’t need anything, does he, Christine?’

Christine shook her head. She gently removed herself from Erik’s grip, and took Gustave from Raoul, cooing at him as she lowered him back into the crib. The three of them looked at him for a moment, while the child looked between the three of them, smiling. Erik reached out, and brushed his fingers down his face. Gustave’s eyes closed, and he began to breathe deeply.

‘Now, Christine,’ Erik said, running a hand through her hair, down her back, and along the curve of her hip, ‘where is your bedroom? I hope you have a wide bed.’

~*~

The bed was indeed a wide, king-sized bed, draped in blue satin covers. Christine was turning the key in the lock, and Raoul turned to her to make a remark about it, when Erik seized him, spinning him around to pull off his coat. Then Raoul found his back pulled against a strong chest, quick fingers already unbuttoning his silk waistcoat. Raoul could not imagine why Erik’s attention should be on him, when it had been a year since they had bedded Christine. But looking up into those blazing eyes, it was hard to complain.

Erik lifted Raoul’s chin, catching him in a devouring kiss. Pulling back, he smiled at the dazed look in Raoul’s eyes. Then Erik looked to Christine.

‘Pass me that curtain tie,’ he said. She went to the window to take it, closing the curtains as she did so, and came back, watching them breathlessly.

Erik dropped Raoul’s waistcoat and cravat to the floor, and then quickly removed his shirt. He pulled down Raoul’s breeches, tapping his leg to tell him to step out of his boots. Raoul did so, obediently allowing boots, breeches and stockings to be removed. Christine gathered his clothes and put them in a Louis XVI chair, smiling under Erik’s smirk – they both knew she liked things to be neat – and then wordlessly passed him the curtain tie, which was a thick, braided rope.

‘Thank you, my dear.’ Turning back to Raoul, Erik said silkily, ‘I thought I told you to smooth the way for me with Christine. But while I was downstairs, it sounded more like you were smoothing the way for yourself.’

‘Not at all,’ Raoul said, his voice cool and careless, though his eyes fluttered anxiously between Erik’s face and the rope in his hands as Erik began to circle him. ‘I assure you, I made the way very smooth for you.’

‘Oh? By doing what, exactly?’

Raoul fought a smile, and lost. ‘By eating her out for you.’

Christine said, ‘Raoul!’ in a reproving tone, but began to laugh all the same.

A slow smirk spread over Erik’s face, though his eyes glittered approvingly at Raoul. When Erik spoke, it was to Christine. ‘He is insolent, isn’t he, my dear?’

‘No more than he ever was,’ Christine said, though she smiled fondly at Raoul, her eyes tracing admiringly over his body; that sweet, supple body, like a better-endowed statue of David.

Erik spoke again to Raoul. ‘Don’t you recall the challenge you gave me, that you would fight for the privilege of being first inside Christine?’

‘…Ah.’

The rope trailed over Raoul’s chest as Erik circled him. Christine, looking on, felt herself opening like a flower just looking at them. Erik, masterful, powerful, broader than Raoul and half a foot taller than him, dark-eyed and dark-haired. Raoul, beautiful, youthful, slight by comparison, and with light hair and tender hazel eyes. Erik looked down at Raoul with dark promise and still darker desire. Raoul looked back at him with adoration, admiration, and – Christine could not blame him for it – trepidation.

‘You know I wasn’t being serious,’ Raoul said.

‘Weren’t you? Perhaps you should express yourself more clearly then. If you are not going to fight me, I should like a proper display of submission. Give me your arms.’

Erik was behind Raoul now, and Raoul obediently put his arms behind him. A chill ran through him – and through Christine, too – as he felt Erik wrap the cord around them, and heard the rope squeak as he tightened it. It was then that Raoul felt himself become fully erect. Christine might have noticed it too, for she made a soft sound of longing.

‘A moment, my dear,’ Erik said, addressing her. ‘First, I must school Raoul in a subject of discipline.’ He pulled Raoul close by the rope on his arms, speaking low into his ear. ‘On your knees.’

Raoul dropped immediately. And as Erik came around to stand in front of him, looking down at him with glittering black eyes, Raoul’s dick twitched. Erik and Christine both chuckled at the sight, their voices light and fond.

‘He looks so sweet,’ Christine said, speaking rather as if Raoul was an adorable puppy, and couldn’t understand her.

‘Yes. He certainly appears very good and obedient, doesn’t he?’ Erik said. And then his foot nudged Raoul’s legs apart. ‘Spread your knees. Wider. Arse on the floor. Good boy.’

There was a pause. Christine watched them both, her chest rising and falling laboriously, though she felt like she was hardly breathing, her pupils blown large and dark.

‘Now, Raoul,’ Erik said in a voice of velvety steel, ‘when I asked you to smooth the way, I do not recall telling you to pleasure our beloved Christine with your mouth.’

Raoul looked up at him innocently. ‘No, monsieur? Perhaps you should have expressed yourself more clearly then.’

Christine gasped, and then smothered her laughter with her hand. She could hardly believe Raoul’s daring. Erik smirked down at Raoul, eyes gleaming.

‘Do you see, Christine? Such insolence cannot go unpunished.’

His hand caressed Raoul’s hair, and then traced over his face, thumb flicking his lip. When Raoul kissed it softly, Erik drew back his hand, and smacked him. Christine flinched instinctively at the sound, at the suddenness of it. But she knew it was probably what Raoul wanted, and had that confirmed when Raoul looked back up at Erik, a red handprint on his cheek, his eyes wet and adoring.

Softly, Erik said, ‘Do you remember what I said about men’s anatomy being so much easier to punish?’

‘Uh…’

With a cruel smile, Erik took hold of Raoul’s hair, holding his head so that his face was turned up to him. Then he lifted his booted foot, bringing it down slowly on Raoul’s balls, pressing them into the floor. Raoul gasped, but did not resist, searching Erik’s eyes for reassurance even as he began to tremble.

‘Erik,’ Christine cut in, putting a hand on his arm, ‘don’t, please!’

‘Don’t worry, I am not going to damage our pretty Vicomte. I know how disappointed you would be if he was unable to pleasure you in that regard, no matter how talented that mouth of his is.’

‘Alright, but please, surely that’s enough!’

‘Is that enough, Raoul?’ Erik asked.

‘Y-yes, monsieur. Please…’

‘Are you going to be a good boy?’

‘Yes, monsieur. I’m sorry.’

‘Good.’

And the boot lifted. Raoul would have sagged with relief, only the hand in his hair pulled him up to meet Erik’s kiss. Erik bit Raoul’s lip as he drew back, and then flung him back down.

‘Stay there and be a good boy.’

‘Yes, monsieur.’

Erik turned back to Christine, smiling at the glazed look in her eyes. ‘Now, my dear, where were we?’

Chapter Text

Bound and kneeling on the floor, Raoul watched as Erik took Christine’s hand, kissing the diamond ring, and then pulled her close, opening the fastenings of her tea gown and letting it fall to the floor. Undressing her in such a gown was a far simpler matter than if she had been properly dressed, and it was just as well that Christine had not been prepared for visitors.

Erik’s eyes lit up as he saw she wore only a thin, lacy chemise and silk stockings beneath. He smoothed the fabric over her breast, admiring the outline of a pert nipple.

‘You were well-dressed to receive your husband, my love.’

‘Husbands,’ she corrected him, boldly reaching for his cravat, and untying it. ‘Raoul may be your wife, but he is not mine.’

‘Indeed? Well, if he is your husband, he’s about to be cuckolded.’

Christine’s eyes went to Raoul to see what he made of this, and found him kneeling in the same position Erik had left him, watching them dazedly. She tugged on Erik’s sleeve, and he obligingly removed his coat as she unbuttoned the blood-red waistcoat, opening the shirt below. He pulled all off, smiling as Christine watched them fall to the floor. But before she could comment or do anything about the mess, he had lifted her up, and dropped her onto the bed.

Erik pursued her, pulling off her chemise, kneading her breasts in his hands, kissing her rosy nipples. Christine reached for his breeches. ‘Take them off.’

Erik kissed her, and then drew back, undressing completely before her hungry eyes, and before the eyes of the kneeling Raoul. Raoul made a soft sound. Erik looked over to him. An idea occurred to him, and he was torn suddenly between that and simply plunging into Christine’s wet, welcoming heat.

His eyes met Raoul’s, and he made up his mind.

‘A moment, my dear.’

And he went over to Raoul, lifting his chin, Raoul looked up at him, leaning into his touch. He could still see the pink marks of his hand on Raoul’s face.

‘You can smooth the way for me again,’ Erik said softly. ‘It has been a while. I do not want to inconvenience my wife.’

‘Yes, monsieur.’

Erik turned Raoul so that Christine would be able to see, and then took himself in hand, rubbing circles on Raoul’s lips. Raoul opened his mouth, and he slid inside. Raoul gagged softly as the head hit the back of his throat, but was careful to keep his teeth out of the way as he watched Erik, pliant as a kitten.

‘Oh God…’ Christine moaned. She was reclined on her side, watching them, her thighs squeezing tightly together. ‘Erik, if you don’t stop that, I’m going to come before you’re even inside me.’

Erik chuckled. Wanting to tease her more, he twisted his hand in Raoul’s hair, pushing him carefully but insistently down on his cock. Raoul was powerless to stop the water springing into his eyes, powerless to stop anything, in fact. And as he swallowed him down, desperate to breathe, his prostate throbbed, and his cock dribbled pre-come onto the floor.

Christine groaned. ‘Erik…’

Erik held Raoul steady a moment, feeling his throat work deliciously around the head of his cock. Then he drew back, letting Raoul suckle the head, looking up at him sweetly.

Christine was at breaking point. ‘Raoul, stop looking so adorable. Erik, please get over here and fuck me, now.’

Erik chuckled, but he withdrew from Raoul’s mouth, chucking him under the chin as he smirked down at him.

‘Thank you, Raoul.’

‘My pleasure, monsieur.’

Christine moaned. ‘God’s sake, Raoul. Stop that!’

As Erik approached the bed, Christine rolled over onto her back, drawing her legs up and parting them for him. Erik seized her hips, pulling them to the edge of the bed. She still had on her silk stockings, but kicked off her dainty satin slippers. Erik rolled her stockings down and pulled them off one by one. Then he kissed down the inside of her milky thigh until he reached her mound. His tongue flicked the little nub of her clit.

‘No, no…’ Christine moaned. ‘Inside of me, please.’

Erik’s fingers found her entrance, and found her ready and eager. He straightened up, and slung her calves over his shoulders. Then he lined himself up, and pushed in.

On the floor a few feet from the foot of the bed, Raoul had a good view of the two of them as they faced him sideways on. He saw Christine throw her head back in abandon, letting her arms fall weakly as Erik thrust into her, her pretty breasts heaving with every movement. Erik looked beautiful, strong and powerful, all his dark charisma focussed in those black eyes that looked adoringly down at Christine.

Raoul relished the sight, and would happily have taken the place of either of them.

One of Erik’s hands let go of Christine’s thigh to wrap around her throat. He leaned in. ‘Who is your husband, Christine?’

‘You,’ she gasped. ‘You are, Erik.’

‘Who is the father of your son?’

She practically whined the words, ‘You are, Erik.’

‘Are you going to defy me any longer?’

‘No, monsieur.’

‘Good girl.’

Raoul grew anxious as Erik’s hand tightened on her throat. But he did not cut off her circulation or her breathing, only slowly flexed and relaxed his hand, keeping her on the edge of danger. Christine’s eyes rolled back as she began to come, her walls clenching rhythmically around him. Erik picked up the pace, thrusting as deep as he could. His other hand reached between them to find Christine’s clit. Christine moaned, almost sobbing, and came again, hard, and didn’t stop coming until Erik was coming too, burying his seed deep inside.

Erik stayed there a moment, feeling Christine twitch around his softening member. He let go of her throat, and bent his head to kiss her.

‘I love you,’ she murmured. ‘I love you.’

Erik growled into her mouth. ‘And I love you, you devious little traitor.’

Christine giggled weakly, and he kissed her again, slipping out of her. Christine flopped back, the picture of satiation. She let her head fall to the side, and then sat up suddenly, almost colliding with Erik, who straightened up out of her way.

‘Raoul,’ she said, voice and face filled with concern, ‘why are you crying?’

Erik looked at Raoul too. For a second, Raoul didn’t seem to know that she had spoken to him. And then his shoulder gave a twitchy jerk, as if he meant to wipe his face, but had forgotten his arms were tired. He lowered his gaze, awkward at being called to their attention like this.

‘It’s nothing. I’m just glad that we’re together again, that’s all.’

Christine melted. ‘Oh, Raoul… I love him. Erik, please let him go.’

‘Never,’ Erik growled, though he was already striding away from the bed. ‘But I will, however, untie him.’

He hauled Raoul to his feet, catching him as he stumbled, and untied the rope, rubbing his wrists and arms he pulled it away. He lifted Raoul’s tearstained face to look at him, and kissed away the moisture on his cheeks.

‘It’s alright, sweet one. I’ve got you. We’re both here.’

Raoul leaned into him, closing his eyes. But they opened abruptly as he was lifted off his feet, carried in strong arms, and deposited on the bed beside Christine.

‘Here, my darling,’ Erik said, addressing Christine, ‘I have a pretty beau for you. What do you want to do with him?’

Christine gave a sly smile, and climbed on top of Raoul, her eyes glittering. ‘I think I have an idea.’

Erik’s eyes traced the curves of her body as she straddled Raoul’s knees, and then the sweet, lithe lines of Raoul, appreciative as a connoisseur of his two young lovers, each as pretty as Aphrodite and Apollo.

Speaking to Christine, Erik said, ‘Surely I haven’t left you unsatisfied, you cock-hungry little minx.’

‘Oh, no,’ Christine said, smiling at him. ‘I am quite satisfied. But Raoul, on the other hand, is still wanting.’

As they spoke, Raoul had sat up, and was cupping and kissing Christine’s breasts. Christine pushed him back down, and then took his cock in her delicate hand.

Christine was a woman of dainty proportions. And though she could take Erik vaginally and even anally with enough preparation, she was unable to take him all the way into her mouth and throat the way that Raoul could.

It was not that she lacked practice (there had been a long rosy hour in which Raoul and Christine had been on their knees before Erik, both men schooling her in the art of fellatio), it was simply that her mouth and the opening of her throat were not big enough for the well-endowed Erik. And he, reluctant to damage his prized instrument, did not push her.

Raoul, on the other hand, was a man of more reasonable proportions, and after having tried to take Erik’s cock, Christine found she could swallow Raoul down with relative ease.

Christine laved the head of Raoul’s cock with her tongue, using her hand to draw both her saliva and his pre-come along the length of his dick. She continued to suckle the head as she worked the shaft, her other hand coming up to feel his balls. It was Raoul himself who had told Christine that the head of a man’s penis was the most sensitive part, and likened it to a woman’s clitoris. She kissed it then the way he had her little nub, swirling her tongue around it.

Raoul groaned. Leaning his head back, he was surprised to find it suddenly in Erik’s lap. He had noticed the weight shift on the bed, but had not realised that the man had come to sit behind him. Erik’s hand caressed Raoul’s hair, brushing it back from his face. He bent down to kiss him, slipping his tongue into his mouth, and then drew back, watching him. Raoul turned his face on Erik’s lap, moaning, as Christine began to take more of him into her sweet, warm mouth. He caught sight of Erik’s cock, soft now but long and heavy against his thigh, and moaned again.

Erik followed his gaze and chuckled. ‘Raoul, you are incorrigible.’

‘I don’t know what that means.’

‘It’s what you said to me, before.’

‘I was trying to sound smart.’

Erik laughed, though he did not believe Raoul was being serious. Christine snorted, and Raoul flinched as her teeth scraped him. She came up quickly, coughing for air.

‘Well, that was exciting,’ Raoul said. Erik huffed in amusement, watching Christine with fondly glittering eyes as her breast heaved.

‘Did she bite you, precious?’ Erik asked.

‘Only just.’

While Christine recovered, wiping tears from her eyes, Erik reached down, taking Raoul in his hand, squeezing the end of his cock so that he gasped and moaned.

Christine sucked in a breath. ‘I’m sorry. But, Raoul, why can’t you keep your mouth shut?’

She was only teasing, and Raoul replied in the same manner, ‘Why can’t you keep your mouth open?’

Erik released Raoul’s dick, clapping the same hand over Raoul’s mouth instead. It was damp with Raoul’s pre-come and Christine’s saliva, and felt wicked against Raoul’s skin.

‘Christine is right,’ Erik said. ‘You are too witty for your own good. And I rather enjoy the feel of you coming on my cock, and I don’t want you to lose a vital part of your anatomy.’

Erik and Christine shared sly smiles, and then she swept back her hair, ducking her head again. Raoul moaned into Erik’s hand, resisting the urge to buck his hips as Christine sank lower than before, finally swallowing him down to the base.

Raoul lifted his head to watch her. Erik let him, taking his hand from Raoul’s mouth to stroke his hair, also deeply aroused at the sight. Christine raised her watery eyes, looking at the two of them. At the sight of her, Raoul bit his lip, and fell back into Erik’s lap, moaning.

Erik chuckled. ‘Does that feel good, precious?’

Raoul could only nod, clinging desperately to Erik’s leg.

Christine drew back, taking a long breath before lowering her head again, bobbing herself up and down. Raoul clutched at her hair, but Erik took his hands away, holding both wrists over his head in a single grip.

Raoul sobbed once, and Erik gently touched the side of Christine’s face.

‘He’s going to come,’ Erik warned her. ‘Draw back. I want to see.’

At these words, Raoul lost all control. He came just as Christine pulled back enough to have only the head of his cock in her mouth. She opened her mouth, letting Erik see the whiteness spurt onto her tongue. Raoul raised his head, and saw his come in her mouth, and collapsed bonelessly onto Erik.

Erik petted him lovingly. ‘Good boy.’ Then he reached over and pushed Christine off of him as she lapped at Raoul, feeling Raoul shudder as his softening cock left her mouth. ‘You’ve done very well, my dear. That is enough now.’

Christine’s eyes met Erik’s, and she swallowed pointedly. Erik growled. He leaned over Raoul to pull her to him, kissing her fiercely, tasting Raoul on her tongue. Then he turned his attention to Raoul, kissing him too. He pulled back so that Raoul and Christine could share a kiss.

They looked between one another, Christine and Erik considerably more lucid than Raoul, who slumped against Erik in a way that made Christine feel almost jealous, though she found it utterly adorable in a way that made her heart squeeze tight. (Could she support Raoul’s weight? She wasn’t sure. Certainly, she couldn’t support Erik’s. But she would happily lean against either or both of them...)

‘We are going to stay together now, aren’t we?’ Raoul asked, his voice small.

He was looking at Christine. Christine looked at Erik, expecting him to give a dictatorial answer. But he was watching her too.

‘Of course, we are,’ Christine said. ‘We’re married, aren’t we – the three of us?’

Erik growled approval, and pulled her to him. She tucked herself into his side, wincing with pleasure as he kissed the delicate skin at her temple. She in turn dropped a kiss to the top of Raoul’s head, which lay against Erik’s chest.

‘That is right,’ Erik agreed. ‘And married people should stay together.’

Raoul raised himself, looking at the both of them. ‘I love you. Both of you.’

There were tears in his eyes, and Christine stroked his leg soothingly, saying, ‘I love you both, too. Very much.’

They both looked at Erik, expectant. But Erik was frowning to himself, evidently not listening.

Raoul touched his arm. ‘What’s the matter?’

Erik’s eyes refocussed on him. ‘Oh, nothing. I was just thinking, I should have let you come inside Christine, rather than myself. That way, the next child stands a higher chance of being yours. We can do that the next time.’

‘Next child?’ Christine repeated incredulously, ignoring Raoul as he bit his lip to smother a laugh. ‘How many children do you expect me to have?’

‘Oh, at least two, so that there is one of each. If the next child is mine too, we can always try again. Of course, a boy and girl would be nice, too.’

Christine was torn between amusement and horror. ‘Erik, I love Gustave, but you don’t know what that spawn of yours put me through. One child is quite enough!’

‘For now, yes.’

‘Erik,’ Raoul cut in, before Christine could grow too heated, ‘I’m not sure having more children is a good idea right now.’

Erik fixed him with a stern look. ‘And why not?’

Raoul laid a placating hand on Erik’s leg. ‘Because Christine is unmarried, and another child would give rise to questions. I mean, what did…?’ Raoul looked at Christine, his brow furrowing in thought. ‘What did you tell people before?’

A change passed over Christine’s face. She drew away from Erik’s side, and seemed suddenly nervous.

‘I… Well, I didn’t know how things would be. I thought perhaps that Raoul would come here after he had been to the Arctic, or maybe that he would not. And, in any case, I never thought to see you again.’ This last was directed to Erik.

‘Ah,’ Erik said. His eyes scanned her face. ‘And so, the story you came up with was…?’

‘That my husband was in the navy, and that he had gone away on a long expedition…’ Christine could not meet his eyes as she spoke. ‘And that I did not know if he would return.’

‘I see,’ Erik said. Raoul shrank into Erik’s chest as his gaze passed over him before returning to Christine. ‘And did you give any particulars about this expedition, or this husband?’

‘Not really. But…’

‘Yes? Out with it.’

Christine looked like she would dearly like to sink through the bed, through the floor, and under the house. But she knew she would have to tell him, and better sooner rather than later. ‘I didn’t want there to be any… complications. And so, well, Gustave’s surname is “de Chagny”. I’m sorry I did it without permission, only neither of you were here. I was afraid people would know he was illegitimate, and —’

‘But you say you have told people very little about his father?’ Erik pressed.

Raoul’s mind wandered back to the servant who had shown him in, and had been so shocked to hear he was the Vicomte de Chagny. She must have thought her master had come home. It was almost funny, only Raoul had a sinking feeling that Erik would not think so.

Christine swallowed. ‘I didn’t… Until a week or two ago. Monsieur d’Arcy – he owns the opera house, and wants me to sing for him – showed me a copy of a Parisian newspaper, and it said that a French naval expedition had been spotted off the coast of Svalbard. Only… there was a photograph, and Raoul was in it. There was a caption with the names of the officers beneath. Monsieur d’Arcy pointed him out, and asked if he was my husband, and I said yes without thinking. Oh, my God. I am so sorry.’

Erik heaved a heavy sigh. He looked down at Raoul, who was watching him anxiously. ‘You know, of the two of you, I always thought it was you who gave me the most trouble. I see now that I was wrong.’ He looked back to Christine. ‘Christine, you are worse than Pandora. I don’t even know how to punish you… And so, I shan’t even bother. There. That is the reward for disobedience.’

Christine gave a nervous laugh. She pressed herself back against his side, kissing his jaw to pacify him. Raoul watched both of them, feeling his nerves – which had mounted through Christine’s story – begin to disperse.

‘Do not grow complacent, however,’ Erik said, looking between Christine and Raoul, as if warning them both equally. ‘I can be forbearing when I choose. I know these have been difficult circumstances, and I am not unreasonable. However, if either of you disobey me again, I will punish you as severely as I please.’

‘Certainly, monsieur,’ Christine said. ‘We wouldn’t expect anything else.’

Raoul nodded, toying with the signet ring on Erik’s left hand.

‘And Raoul?’ Erik said. Raoul lifted his gaze, and found himself caught in Erik’s devouring eyes. ‘Kindly remember that I am only going to let you play husband in public, and that you are my wife just as surely as Christine is.’

‘Yes, monsieur.’

‘Good boy. Now,’ Erik said, turning to Christine. ‘I think I hear your maid returning. I understand the door is locked, but we don’t want to give rise to questions about what we are all doing in here, now, do we?’

‘Maybe we should just let her in,’ Raoul said. ‘It would save having to explain things later.’

And he yelped as Erik and Christine both smacked him.

Chapter Text

For a time, Christine had thought she had made a mistake introducing Raoul to Erik. She had felt it the day she had taken Raoul into her dressing room at the behest of her Angel, and seen Erik’s eyes rake devouringly over him.

She had recognised the look as desire. It was a look he had often directed at her. Yet she had not been certain at first whether it was sexual lust, or bloodlust. A slave to her Angel’s will, she had brought Raoul to him, ‘To have his fate decided,’ and then left them alone. When she had returned, they were both gone. When neither appeared for three days, she thought that Erik had killed Raoul, and wept. It was with great surprise, then, that she heard the scrape of the door in her mirror being opened, and had turned towards it to find Raoul scrambling out. ‘Ah, mademoiselle, forgive me the intrusion!’

Her fear of Erik’s jealousy following the arrival of her childhood friend had turned into a jealous confusion on her own part. Christine had never expected to have a pretty young man, a man she rather liked for herself, for a rival. And things had taken a stranger turn still, when, on the night of the masquerade, Erik had made them both wear matching black and white domino costumes, and – dressed himself as Red Death – had brought them to his house on the lake, where the three of them had done things together that Christine had never dreamed of.

And Christine had felt that perhaps it had not been a mistake after all.

~*~

Christine woke slowly, leisurely and content as a cat. There were others in the bed beside her, speaking softly, and she recognised the treasured and familiar voices of Erik and Raoul.

Raoul was saying, ‘…You make a good point, but since my great-grandfather and his brothers were all guillotined during the Reign of Terror, I cannot say I agree.’

‘They ought to have guillotined your grandfather, too, and cut off the whole sorry race,’ Erik murmured back, and Christine had no idea how he could make such words sound so seductive.

‘Hmm. What a shame it is that no one guillotined your grandfather, either.’

There was a shifting of bodies, a sliding of sheets. Christine opened one eye to see Erik turn Raoul off of his chest, pinning the viscount beneath him, their limbs entwining with easy intimacy. Erik’s hand went to Raoul’s neck, overlapping the earlier marks from his fingers.

‘Impudent boy. I should strangle you.’

‘How is that impudence?’ Raoul countered, though he was quite calm, his voice soft and caressing. ‘You were just wishing myself and my entire family out of existence.’

‘And you were doing the same for me.’

‘I was not being serious.’

‘No, darling. And of course, I would not wish my precious little Raoul gone on any account. As for the rest of your family… it is of little consequence to me whether they live or die.’

‘My, how romantic. I think I saw a similar line in Romeo and Juliet.’

‘I doubt that, sweet one. You cannot read English.’

Believing Christine to be still asleep, Erik smothered Raoul’s laugh in a kiss. But they broke apart as they heard her silvery laugh. She lifted her head to look at them, and when Erik turned and raised himself to look at her in turn, she realised that they were both hard, their morning erections rubbing together.

‘Good morning, my dear,’ Erik said.

‘Did you sleep well?’ Raoul asked, trying to sit up. When Erik pushed him back down, he grumbled, ‘What? I was only being polite.’

Christine smiled. ‘Yes, very well. Thank you, Raoul.’

Raoul gave her a slow smile, drawing another smile out of Christine. Erik rolled his eyes. ‘Stop flirting. You already have her in bed with you.’

‘I’ve missed her. And besides, it’s nice to have a lady around.’

‘Yes, I remember you going on about how comforting it is.’

At these words, an idea clearly dawned in Raoul’s mind. His eyes on Christine, he gasped as his erection was taken in Erik’s hand, pre-come slicked from the head as he rubbed both their cocks together.

‘Lord… How can the two of you be so eager first thing in the morning?’ Christine asked, though her eyes watched them both hungrily.

‘Simple biology, my dear,’ Erik said, smiling.

‘Please, Erik…’ Raoul panted. ‘I don’t… I want…’

‘Yes, I know what you want.’ Erik looked at Christine. ‘Christine, your pretty beau would like the honour of making love to you. Will you have him?’

‘Of course, if you will let go of him.’

‘Of course.’

Raoul groaned as his cock sprang free from Erik’s. Erik pulled him up to kiss him, pushing his tongue into his mouth. Raoul melted into the kiss, twining his legs around Erik’s waist. He had all but forgotten about Christine, until he was abruptly dragged and deposited before her.

Christine lay covered beneath the blue satin sheet. But the bare shoulder and arm suggested her nakedness. Her smile went from Raoul to Erik, who had settled behind him, a hand on his hip.

‘You are greedy, monsieur,’ Christine said, speaking to Erik. ‘You don’t want to share him with me.’

Erik chuckled, and Raoul shivered as it ghosted through his hair. ‘I confess, I awoke with a singular idea in mind.’ And his hand glided over Raoul’s rump.

Raoul looked back at him, desire clear in his eyes, and found himself devoured in Erik’s gaze. A weak sound escaped him. And then he yelped as Christine delivered a smack to his thigh.

‘Stop distracting him!’ Christine said to Erik. ‘It isn’t fair. You’ve had him to yourself for nearly two weeks. It’s my turn.’

Again, Erik gave a warm, dark laugh. He pushed Raoul towards Christine.

‘Apologies, madame,’ Raoul said, smiling at her. ‘I did not mean to keep you waiting.’

He took hold of the satin sheet, slowing pulling it from her reclining form to reveal her rosy breasts, the slant of her hip, her soft, rounded belly, the curve of her arse, and her long, shapely legs.

He paused a moment, staring, and then started in surprise as Erik was suddenly at his back, pressing Raoul into Christine as he leaned over him to kiss her.

‘You are ravishing, my dear,’ Erik said.

‘Thank you, Erik. But you are crushing Raoul, and I really do want him inside me.’

Erik drew back, and took hold of one of Christine’s ankles, pulling her towards them, and opening her legs.

‘So I can see. You are both of you very spoiled, but I will indulge you all the same. Raoul, get on and please my wife so that I can fuck you.’

These last words were growled into Raoul’s ear, making him wince at the words and the pleasurable sensation of Erik’s warm breath, and then again at the sharp nip to the shell of his ear.

Christine drew her legs up, and Raoul settled between them, ducking his head to kiss between her tender folds, and then slipping a couple of fingers in to test her readiness.

‘Stop fussing, Raoul, and fuck me.’

Raoul lined up, and Erik’s head looked over his shoulder to see him enter Christine, his fingers squeezing Raoul’s waist with an approving growl. Raoul felt the warm presence at his back leave him, and felt the bed dip, but scarcely registered these things as his cock sank slowly into that soft, hugging heat.

He moaned, his head bowing and his eyes closing. Christine giggled, her hand coming up to caress his face, to trace over his pretty nose and mouth and cheekbones and brow.

‘Have you missed this, Raoul?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Were there no girls in the Arctic?’

‘Ah, yes,’ Raoul said, scarcely aware of what he said as he pulled back and thrust deeper into that clinging heat. ‘But they were all wrapped up in fur, so they were hard to get to. And some were seven feet tall with very large teeth.’

‘…What?’

‘He’s talking about polar bears,’ Erik said. ‘Ignore him.’

‘Lovely eyes, though,’ Raoul added.

Christine began giggling again, and Raoul bit his lip as the vibrations travelled through his body.

‘Raoul,’ Erik said warningly, ‘I will gag you.’

When Erik reappeared at his back, Raoul thought perhaps he was going to do just that. Breath gusted down his neck. A warm chest moulded to his back. His long, thick cock nestled into Raoul’s backside, gliding between his cheeks at every movement. Raoul felt giddy with the promise of being fucked, and he felt a tingle inside, his own sweet spot longing for Erik’s cock.

Raoul’s hips stuttered as slick fingers teased his entrance. He looked up and over his shoulder at Erik, and gasped as a finger slipped inside him. Erik kissed his temple, and then rested his head against Raoul’s, watching his face.

‘Are you really so impatient, monsieur?’ Raoul breathed.

‘I find I am not so selfless to simply watch at present.’

Christine raised herself onto her elbows, annoyed that Raoul had stopped moving, but curious to know what was happening. ‘What is he doing?’ she asked Raoul.

‘He’s…’ Another finger entered Raoul, both twisting until they found Raoul’s waiting prostate, and Raoul let out a small moan, ‘…preparing me.’

‘Oh…’

Christine tried to look past Raoul, wishing she could watch. But she was not willing to have Raoul’s cock leave her, and so she settled for looking between their two faces, and imagining what was going on out of view.

Her hand reached for her clit, and Raoul groaned, thrusting forward again. The fingers shifted within him, expanding to three, and he felt the sentient part of his brain shut down. Once more, his hips stuttered to a stop.

‘Erik… I– I can’t…’

With Erik stretching him, the pads of his fingers caressing Raoul’s prostate, it was impossible for Raoul to concentrate on anything else. And thrusting into that hugging heat became at once too much.

Christine gave a breathy laugh, and kissed Raoul’s worried brow and the corners of his eyes. ‘Erik, what have you done to him? You’ve broken him.’

Erik smiled. ‘Not yet, I haven’t.’ To Raoul, he said, ‘Don’t fret, precious. I will take care of you both. You needn’t worry about pleasing Christine.’

‘I beg to differ,’ Christine interjected, lifting her foot to nudge Erik with her toes.

Erik leaned over to kiss her pouting mouth. ‘As I said, I will take care of you.’

The fingers withdrew, and Raoul sank slowly back into Christine, both of them sighing in relief. And then strong hands pulled Raoul’s hips back with gentle firmness until only the head was inside, and the head of Erik’s own cock nudged Raoul’s entrance.

Raoul found himself frozen again, held in place by Erik’s hands and his own anticipation. Erik worked himself in slowly, his eyes trailing from the side of Raoul’s charming face, half-turned towards him, to the lovely face of Christine, and the round, rosy breast bared to his view.

Once Erik was sheathed to the hilt, he lingered a moment, feeling Raoul flex around him. He heard the unsteady breathing of both Raoul and Christine. Christine was watching them both, savouring the sight through half-lidded eyes.

Erik draped himself over Raoul, putting his hand over Raoul’s own where it grasped the gentle curve of Christine’s hip.

‘How does that feel, precious?’

Erik’s low voice in his ear rumbled through Raoul and even into Christine, making both shudder.

Raoul pressed up against him, loving the feeling of being surrounded by him, cherished and dominated even as he himself was inside Christine.

‘Good. So good. You know it does, Erik.’

Christine moaned, and jerked her hips. Remembering Erik’s earlier words, she said, ‘Stop flirting; you’re already in bed together.’

Erik smirked at her, eyes gleaming. He reached out a hand, and gave her nipple a reproving tweak. And then he took hold of Raoul’s hips, guiding him down so that he was once more fully sheathed inside Christine.

Raoul hung his head. ‘Oh God…’

And then he was pulled back, Erik drawing back also, and Erik slammed home inside him, forcing him to do the same inside Christine.

It was unlike anything. Raoul could feel Christine twitching around him, heard her sweet moans in his ear, and thought she would probably climax soon. That was just as well, since he was sure he could not last long like this himself. The sight of Christine’s beautiful face, her glittering eyes, her breasts, was almost too much to look at. And Erik did not hold back, but thrust hard, angling for Raoul’s prostate, and holding Raoul at such an angle that he could not help rubbing over Christine’s sweet spot at every thrust.

As Christine clenched down and came, Raoul felt himself about to come too. But Erik reached between them, squeezing hard around the base of Raoul’s cock to stop him. Raoul let out a sob of frustration, and clutched at Erik’s arm. He had meant to pull him away, but he remembered who he was dealing with, and gentled his touch.

‘Please, Erik, please…’ Raoul whined.

There was a dark chuckle, and a nuzzling kiss behind his ear. ‘Not yet, darling. I want you to pleasure Christine some more first, or she’ll be jealous.’

Christine’s glazed eyes settled on Erik, and she nodded. ‘Yes, Raoul. I will happily watch Erik fuck you, but I want my share of you, first.’

She pulled his head down to kiss him. Raoul could barely respond, and she smiled to find him so dazed with pleasure. She felt him throb within her, harder than she had ever felt him, and she laid back as the pleasure within her own body mounted again.

Raoul whimpered as he felt the spasms of Christine’s orgasm again. Erik pressed him down, keeping Raoul buried inside of her, rocking him into Christine, making him feel everything. And Erik watched Christine’s eyes roll back and squeeze shut in pleasure, moans and gasps tumbling from her, her pretty thighs trembling.

And then, finally, Erik released his stranglehold on Raoul’s cock. And Raoul came helplessly, deep inside of her, almost sobbing as tremors racked through him.

Erik resumed his hard pace. Raoul might have blacked out, or at least, he was not lucid enough at first to make any protest. But then he clung to the wrist at his hip, and whimpered, ‘No-o… It’s too much…’

‘Do you want me to stop?’

Raoul shook his head. ‘No. Just let me get off of Christine.’

For half a second, Erik wondered why Raoul spoke as if Christine would have no opinion about this, and then he realised that Christine’s eyes were still closed, and that she was lying quite still, chest rising and falling slowly, the hint of an angelic smile still on her lips.

Erik smirked, and nodded. He shifted, drawing Raoul back with him, and watched him slip from Christine, come dripping in his wake. Erik kissed the side of his head, pulling Raoul into his lap as he wrapped a hand around his neck. Growls of satisfaction rang in Raoul’s ear.

‘So, Raoul, you can make a proper comparison now. What do you like more: the comforting hug of a woman, or the feeling of a man inside you, conquering you?’

Raoul tried to shake his head, but the hand at his throat stopped him. ‘I don’t… I don’t know.’

‘Really, don’t you?’ Erik purred softly. ‘Because, you know, with the right stimulation inside, you can have multiple orgasms, just like a woman. Here, let me remind you.’

He took Raoul’s limp cock in his hand, and tightened his hold on Raoul’s throat with a steady, mounting pressure, feeling Raoul’s penis lengthen under his fingers. Raoul gave no indication that he felt himself getting hard, but looked up into Erik’s face with gentle loving eyes that created all sorts of contrary reactions within Erik’s mind and body (fuck-love-conquer-cherish-dominate-nurture-mine), until at once those shining hazel eyes closed, and Raoul flopped against him.

Erik released his throat, letting Raoul’s head fall back on his shoulder. Looking down the sweet line of Raoul’s chest, Erik saw what he expected to see: that Raoul had grown fully erect once more. Erik had a feeling that neither Raoul nor Christine would like to know precisely how he had learnt the effects of strangulation on a man’s body; but it was information that Erik thought was clearly useful to have.

Erik looked down at Christine, and saw that she was watching them with lazy interest. He smirked at her, and shifted himself and Raoul so that she could watch from sideways-on as he entered him.

Raoul came back, gasping and clinging to Erik’s arm, which was slung across his shoulders, holding him up. He began to whimper as Erik thrust up hard and fast, straight into his prostate.

‘Erik…’ he said weakly.

‘It’s alright. I’ve got you.’

Raoul came, wailing, stripes of come releasing onto the sheets. Erik kissed the side of his face, holding Raoul tight to him with the arm around his shoulders and another around his waist. Raoul’s orgasm had barely subsided when it crashed over him again, and again, until Raoul could not tell if he was really coming anymore, or if that sweet spot inside him had simply broken from pleasure, making him feel like he was ejaculating when he had nothing left to give.

Erik lowered him to the mattress, bracing over him to fuck him just as brutally as he liked. He heard a soft sound come from the direction of Christine, but whether it was approval, arousal or concern, he couldn’t tell, and he couldn’t care at that point, when he was so close to coming himself.

Finally, with a snarl, he dug his nails into Raoul’s hips, and spilled deep inside of him.

~*~

Over breakfast, they did their best to behave in a civilised manner before Jeanne, Christine’s maid. Afterwards, Raoul – in the most fatherly manner possible – coaxed Gustave’s nurse, Claudine, into taking a break while they looked after the infant.

‘You must be so proud, Monsieur le Vicomte,’ Claudine said, passing the child to him with a smile.

‘Of what?’ Raoul had asked, perplexed.

She looked at him in surprise. ‘Why, of your son, of course!’

‘Oh!’ said Raoul, looking down at the boy, who was smiling impishly as he tugged Raoul’s cravat painfully tight. ‘Yes, very proud. He is very like his father, indeed.’

Once they were in the parlour, Raoul gave Gustave to Erik, who sat down with him on his lap, Christine and Raoul on either side of him. They had not yet decided what relation they would say that Erik had to Raoul, Christine and Gustave. As yet, neither Jeanne nor Claudine had asked about the mysterious masked man, though Erik’s keen ears had heard them discussing him in whispers: a friend of the viscount? The viscountess? A relation? A lover?

‘Does it matter much what they think?’ Raoul asked. ‘Christine, are your servants in the habit of gossiping around town?’

‘I don’t think so,’ she said, speaking cautiously, ‘But I’m sure if they knew what was really going on, they could not resist telling everyone and their mother about it. And besides, Monsieur d’Arcy is bound to ask about Erik, and I have almost agreed to work for him.’

‘D’Arcy is the owner of the opera house, I think you said?’ Erik asked.

‘Yes…’ Christine replied, reservation in her voice, and in the eyes that flickered from him to Raoul. ‘But don’t go getting any —’

‘He seems to be a rather nosy person. I hope he shan’t trouble you much longer.’

Christine and Raoul both looked at Erik in alarm. ‘Erik!’ they said together.

‘What?’ he asked, with barely an attempt at innocence.

‘Please, please don’t get any ideas about getting rid of him,’ Christine said. ‘He’s really a very nice man!’

Erik shrugged. Raoul watched him anxiously.

‘I have no ideas of killing him, if that is what you’re so concerned about. Of course, were he the sole person to recognise Raoul as your so-called husband, I might do away with him for convenience’s sake. But really, my sole idea concerning him is to buy the opera house from him. That is all.’

‘You want to buy the opera house?’ Christine asked.

‘And start your Machiavellian schemes all over again?’ Raoul added. Christine nudged him with her foot.

‘Well, yes,’ Erik said calmly. ‘But there will be no need for scheming, as you call it. If I own the theatre, everything will be as I like.’

‘Good Lord,’ Raoul said. Christine giggled, covering her mouth, and Raoul looked away from her, smiling.

‘What is so amusing?’ Erik asked, though without any threat or rancour. Holding Gustave seemed to have a mellowing effect on him.

‘Oh, nothing. It is only… You are so… so…’ Christine struggled for a word.

‘Incorrigible,’ Raoul said.

‘That’s it!’ Christine said, snapping her fingers. ‘Incorrigible. Yes, monsieur; you are incorrigible.’

Erik smiled sedately. ‘It is only an idea I have. And besides, it is only the first idea. Raoul cannot speak English, and your own English, Christine, is very bad.’

‘Why, thank you,’ she said, and Raoul turned his face into Erik’s shoulder to hide a snigger, prompting Gustave to try to poke him in the eye.

‘Either you will learn, or you will not. But in any case, my next idea is to open an opera house in San Francisco or Boston or New York. A place built to my own design, and everything exactly as I want it.’

‘My God,’ said Raoul. ‘You really are incorrigible.’

‘Yes,’ Erik agreed. He put Gustave into Christine’s arms, and then turned to Raoul, whom he drew almost into his lap, his arms winding around his waist as he spoke into his ear. ‘And you did not answer my earlier question.’

Raoul looked up into his deep, dark eyes. He was acutely aware of two things. Firstly, that his arse would not forgive him if he put it through anything more today, and secondly, that – if Gustave were out of the room – he would roll over for Erik in a heartbeat.

‘Which was?’ Raoul asked.

‘What do you prefer – to be inside a woman, or to have a man inside you?’

‘I don’t know. They are both very…’ Raoul ducked his head, playing with Erik’s signet ring, uncharacteristically coy, ‘…very different.’

‘Yes, I’m sure they are,’ Erik said, chuckling darkly.

Christine laughed too. But then she said, ‘Erik, please do not get too technical. I am sure Gustave understands more of what we say than any of us can tell.’

‘Very well. We can endeavour to preserve his innocence for a time somehow.’ Erik lifted Raoul’s chin, and Raoul met his tender, burning eyes. ‘Let me rephrase that more personally – do you prefer to be inside of Christine, or to have me inside of you?’

‘I couldn’t say. I like making love to you both.’

‘Ah. He is so diplomatic,’ Erik said.

‘It’s because he is afraid of you,’ Christine said. ‘He doesn’t want to say that he prefers making love to me. I never stand on his…’ She looked down at Gustave, and covered his ears, ‘…delicate parts.’

‘Are you afraid of me, Raoul?’ Erik asked softly. ‘Do I scare you? Does it tantalise you? Do you thrill with the idea that I might hurt you? Do you relish being made to endure what I do to you, strung out on torturous pleasure and scintillating pain?’

‘Oh, Erik, stop…’ Christine moaned.

‘Yes, please stop,’ Raoul breathed, his gaze lost in Erik’s as his cock, not yet recovered, gave a feeble stir.

‘I will if you answer the question.’

‘I can’t answer. I wouldn’t go without either. I love you both, and I acknowledge that it is not the same, but it cannot be the same for Christine either, with the two of us, or for you with Christine and myself.’

‘Not the same, no,’ Erik said. ‘But not nearly as different as what you experience.’

‘I know who I prefer,’ Christine put in. ‘And it is Raoul. He doesn’t get off on torturing his lovers like this.’

‘I am not even going to acknowledge you said that,’ Erik said, giving her a cool look, ‘because I know you are lying.’

‘Well, whom do you prefer of Raoul and myself?’ Christine asked. ‘That ought to be easy to answer.’

‘Ah. You are trying to turn my own trap on me,’ Erik said, smiling at her. ‘Well, that is not as easily answered as you think. You, my dear, possess a certain benefit in having female anatomy, which is naturally more accommodating. Of course, that isn’t to say that I don’t enjoy sinking deep into Raoul, but if he were a woman, we would have an additional option.’

Raoul, mesmerised, looked into his face, unable to speak. Again, Christine put her hands on Gustave’s ears. ‘Erik, I asked you not to get too technical!’

Erik smirked. ‘On the other hand, Raoul is happily possessed with a delightfully talented mouth and almost no natural fear of suffocation.’

Raoul cleared his throat. ‘Well, I wouldn’t say that that’s accurate.’

Erik’s eyes lit up. ‘Is that another thing that frightens you, precious one? Does the thought of choking on your husband while I hold you down fill you with wicked pleasure?’

‘I am going to give Gustave back to Claudine,’ Christine said, standing up with the child in her arms, his little fingers tangled in her hair. ‘Then we are all going back to bed immediately.’

‘Yes, I quite agree,’ said Erik, standing likewise, and pulling Raoul to his feet. He wrapped a hand around his neck, and pulled him close to kiss him softly. Drawing back, he said, ‘I am going to have you again, you and Christine. And when I am done with you both, I will allow you, once more, to compare the two of us. That is, assuming you can possibly get it up again once I’m done with you.’

Raoul could only manage a weak groan. Smirking, Erik pulled him through the door after Christine. She looked back at them over the stair rail, smiling.

‘Of course,’ Erik continued thoughtfully, pulling Raoul close behind him on the stairs and lowering his voice. ‘I ought not to finish inside of Christine again. I may have already thwarted our plans by doing so yesterday.’

 ‘Our plans? What do you mean – our plans?’

‘I am speaking of our plan to have you father the next child.’

‘That was your plan. Christine and I never agreed to that!’

‘Hush, Raoul, do not raise your voice,’ Erik chided, putting a finger on his lips. ‘But I must say, you both seemed to fall in with the plan quite well this morning.’

Raoul thought back, remembering, and Erik smirked as he saw him colouring, before tugging him up the rest of the stairs and onto the landing.

‘That… Well, we should ask Christine…’

‘Naturally, we should,’ Erik said, pushing Raoul into the bedroom and closing the door, not wanting the servants to hear them before Christine joined them. ‘But I think she’ll come around to the idea. Do you remember one very delightful evening in my house, when we had her between us? Christine seemed to enjoy that immensely. In fact, I remember her telling me repeatedly that she did. We were almost doubtful that it would be possible, and I must say it was a wonderfully tight fit, and delightful to be able to feel you inside of her, too. I hadn’t expected that.’

‘Oh God…’ Raoul moaned, as Erik backed him up to the bed, pulling off his clothes as he spoke. ‘Erik, I don’t think I can right now…’

‘Of course you can, Raoul. You are young; have a little faith. And this time, we ought to change our positions: I’ll take the back, and you the front. I’m sure you’ll find it most comforting.’

‘You’re mad,’ Raoul whispered, his pupils blown dark with arousal. ‘You’re inveterate, irredeemable…’

Erik smirked. ‘Incorrigible?’

‘Yes, precisely,’ Raoul said, gasping as he was thrown onto the bed. ‘You, monsieur, are incorrigible!’

Chapter Text

Nine months almost to the day after Raoul and Erik arrived in New Orleans, the Vicomtesse de Chagny was safely delivered of a little girl. The timing was so exact that the society gossips joked that Monsieur de Chagny had clearly wasted no time in coming home, and must have missed his wife greatly. And who could blame him, when the viscountess was so beautiful? Or her, when the viscount was so charming?

Of course, no one was aware of how precisely the conception came about. And it would have been unthinkably rude to ask or even speculate about.

Fortunately for us, we needn’t wonder.

~*~

‘I can’t, Erik. I have already told you. We shall have to try it some other time.’

Those were the words Christine heard Raoul say as she softly closed and locked the door behind her.

‘I have sent Claudine and Jeanne to the park with Gustave. That should allow us an hour, at least,’ she said.

Turning towards them, she felt her legs grow weak at the sight of Erik and Raoul twined together, both already unclothed, Erik rolling Raoul’s balls in his hand, thumb rubbing the slit of his limp cock. He released it, giving the shaft a slap.

Raoul winced. ‘Ah! Erik, that is not going to help!’

Erik chuckled, kissing the side of Raoul’s head, smirking at Christine as he caught her eye.

Christine was reminded of the first time she had seen the two of them together without herself to make a third. They had reminded her, in those early days, of a pair of cats Madame Valerius had kept, which – when they believed themselves alone – would curl up together and groom each other. Once they found themselves observed, the two cats would coolly slink apart, or even turn and attack one another, apparently embarrassed to be discovered in a moment of weakness.

On that occasion, Christine had woken in Erik’s house alone, and left the bedroom in search of them. Through the tall windows, she had seen Erik and Raoul lounging by the water’s edge, semi-clad and wrapped up in one another, bickering in soft, clashing voices. As she had reached the door, she had seen Erik shove Raoul down and enter him, a hand twining around his throat. Christine had frozen in shock and fright, but before she could come to her senses and dart out to intervene, she had heard Raoul’s melting voice say, ‘I love you. I love you.’

And so, she had hung back. Later, Christine had plucked up the courage to ask Raoul what he thought of Erik, and he responded that he thought Erik was very tall and very despotic. When she had asked him whether or not he loved him, Raoul had said, with a scornful laugh, ‘“Love him?” What are we – engaged?’

The irony, now, was quite delightful.

‘Can’t you just have Christine yourself?’ Raoul grumbled as Erik released him and reached for the nightstand. ‘I’m sure she won’t object.’

‘I would not object to either of you,’ Christine said, arranging her clothes on the ottoman as she undressed. ‘Although, of course, Raoul is my favourite.’

Raoul hid his laugh in Erik’s shoulder as the latter resettled behind him, pulled Raoul into his lap, and opened a small vial.

‘You are both becoming unruly,’ Erik said. He worked two oil-slicked fingers into Raoul’s hole, still a little loose from its earlier treatment. ‘You, madame, are deliberately provoking, I know. And as for Raoul, even his body is becoming disobedient.’

‘Oh God…’ Raoul whined, eyes closing, as Erik pressed down on his prostate.

Christine climbed onto the bed, settling before them, putting a soothing hand on Raoul’s thigh.

‘Perhaps you should hurt him,’ Christine suggested lightly. ‘He might like that.’

‘Christine!’ Raoul objected, his eyes flying open to look at her in amazement. ‘If I’d known you would be like this, I never would have agreed to pretend to be married to you.’

‘Who said anything about pretending?’ Christine asked innocently. ‘I have a very convincing certificate from a priest in Saint-Renan.’

Erik laughed, and managed to give Christine a look that was both approving and disapproving at the same time.

‘Would you like to see me hurt him?’ Erik asked. ‘Your little husband, as you call him?’

Christine saw Raoul’s dick twitch, and smiled as she saw they were on the right track. ‘Oh, yes. I would like to see that.’

Erik smiled. ‘Women can be so cruel, can’t they, Raoul?’ And he wrapped his hand around Raoul’s neck.

Raoul lifted a trembling hand to Erik’s muscled forearm, looking up into his face. ‘Please, don’t, monsieur. It still hurts.’

Erik let go, but trailed his fingers along his throat, gently inspecting the delicate pipe and surrounding tendons and arteries. ‘Does it, precious? Well, have no fear. I am not as cruel as Christine. I am not a despot. Fancy asking me to hurt my poor little Raoul. Christine, you must be heartless indeed.’

Erik’s glittering eyes plainly said that he was teasing her, and Christine could not help laughing. And then she noticed that Raoul was panting, pushing down onto Erik’s fingers. Erik looked down at him, and saw that his cock had risen and was straining towards him.

‘Excellent,’ Erik said, removing his fingers to deliver a smack to Raoul’s arse that made him yelp, a stark handprint appearing in its wake. ‘Monsieur le Vicomte is ready to please.’

‘And what about you?’ Christine asked. ‘Won’t you join us? I can recall a most delightful evening in Paris, when the two of you both —’

‘There, Raoul,’ Erik said, giving him a droll look. ‘What did I tell you? Of course, madame, I would be most happy to oblige.’

Christine raised her brows. ‘I remember you used to call me “mademoiselle”.’

‘Ah, yes. But “madame” is more fitting for such a thoroughly married lady as you are.’

Christine smiled. Erik manoeuvred Raoul so that he was lying on his back, and leaned over him to kiss Christine. Raoul looked up at them, reaching out to caress Christine’s breasts, and wind his fingers in her long hair. Erik’s hand went between Christine’s legs, and she buckled, breaking the kiss.

‘Get on top of him,’ Erik said.

At once, Christine swung her leg over Raoul, straddling him. Raoul’s hands went to her hips, his eyes travelling her body and face. She stroked his hair, watching his admiration of her with fond amusement. Then they both looked to Erik, as if awaiting further instructions.

‘Whenever you are ready,’ he said, smirking. ‘I will not stop you.’

Raoul and Christine moved together, she shifting her hips, he taking himself in hand to line up with her. Their eyes met, and he pushed up as she pressed down, lowering her mouth to his, bodies joining as they met in a kiss.

Slow and smooth, they moved together. Erik’s hand stroked down Christine’s long mane of curly brown hair, and along her back to her rear. When she lifted her head, his hand closed in her hair, pulling her face up. Erik moved, and his long, thick erection jutted between her face and Raoul’s.

Obediently, Christine opened her lips, licking the head. Raoul watched, spellbound, as she took Erik into her mouth, her dainty lips stretching around the girth. She took all she could, doing her best to relax and not to cough as she gagged. She stopped about halfway down the shaft, which was all she could take. Then her mouth was joined by another. And Raoul shifted to hold Christine to his chest, their hips grinding slowly into each other, as his tongue wrapped around Erik’s exposed girth. Erik’s eyes narrowed, gleaming at the sight of them both, joined together in pleasing each other and him, two pretty faces peering up at him around his cock.

Raoul’s focus moved, and he began licking and sucking Erik’s balls, teasing them into his mouth. It was at this point that Erik decided enough was enough, and broke away, retrieving the oil before settling behind Christine’s luscious derrière. She spread her knees wider, raising her arse so that Erik could see Raoul thrusting up into her, his cock disappearing between the swell of her lips.

Erik’s oiled fingers caressed Christine’s tight pink rosebud, feeling it flex. He eased a finger in, feeling it tense. They had done this only once before leaving Paris, twice if he counted the time that Christine had taken Raoul from behind while Erik took her in front, holding her between them with her legs wrapped tight around his waist.

Christine had been a virtuous woman before she had met her Angel of Music. And even then, Erik had been anxious to preserve her innocence, making love to her almost as an ordinary man would to his wife. And though Erik called Raoul a libertine, a tempter, he could not wholly blame Raoul for awakening darker desires in him, or for the satisfaction he received from dominating both at once: a beautiful young woman and adorable young man. No other than Raoul would he ever permit to touch Christine, and no other than Christine would he allow to touch Raoul. Both were utterly, irrevocably, his.

A soft sound slipped from Christine as Erik worked another finger into her, scissoring and stretching in preparation for a third. Raoul watched him, desire lidding his eyes, and Erik was reminded of the manner in which Christine had watched him prepare Raoul. As Erik added a third finger, Christine made a strangled sound, and Raoul’s eyes went to her face. Erik saw a crease of concern appear between them, worry that he might hurt Christine, that he might be too much for her. Tender-hearted Raoul. How sweet he was.

Yet, as Erik withdrew, Raoul spread his hands on Christine’s cheeks, parting them for him, as if offering her up to him. Christine looked back over her shoulder with a sigh as she felt Erik line up. He pushed in, and Christine collapsed into Raoul, panting. Raoul buried himself deep, ceasing to thrust, only grinding himself into her, his fingers finding her little nub as he kissed her face.

Sinking inside, Erik could feel the shape of Raoul’s cock inside Christine, separated from him by only a thin membrane. It was times like this that Erik truly appreciated the joy of having two lovers, male and female. Without Raoul, he could never enjoy Christine like this, nor Raoul like this without Christine. How sublime; how blissfully sinful it was.

Erik braced himself over them as he sank down to the hilt. He could feel Raoul’s balls, warm and soft, beneath his own. He swept Christine’s hair from her back, and leaned over her, murmuring in her ear, ‘Are you alright, my darling?’

‘Yes…’

‘How does it feel?’

‘Full. Very full…’

Erik’s eyes met Raoul’s, which were glued to Christine’s face as she spoke, glazed with lust. Erik smirked, and crushed Christine between them as he leaned down to kiss him, tongue tangling with Raoul’s. Christine whined, bucking back as much as she could.

‘You can move now, Erik. Please…’

Erik chuckled, breaking away from Raoul and sitting up. He wound Christine’s long hair in his hand, and began to thrust into her hot, tight hole, feeling the slide of Raoul’s cock beneath his as he began to thrust again too, matching his pace to Erik’s.

Christine moaned. Her back arched, hips tilting back delightfully, and Erik’s free hand reached around to grasp her breast. Beneath them, Raoul watched them both hungrily as Erik’s face appeared over Christine’s shoulder, and he used the grip in her hair to turn her face to his for a devouring kiss.

Christine broke the kiss as she began to orgasm. She lost all control, held up only by the hand in her hair and on her breast. Erik felt her clamp down on his cock, and knew that Raoul must feel the same tight spasms squeezing him.

‘Erik…’ Raoul panted, as the aftershocks ran through them all in tremors. ‘I don’t… I can’t… I’m going to come…’

At once, Erik’s hand struck Raoul’s face, snapping it to the side. But this did not precisely have the desired effect. Inside of Christine, Erik felt Raoul’s cock pulse and twitch.

‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Erik said. He let go of Christine, and reached down beneath where she was joined to each of them, taking Raoul’s balls in his hand. Raoul whimpered.

‘If you come before I tell you, I will punish you.’

Christine looked into Raoul’s face, tensed with the effort of holding in his orgasm, his eyes pleading, and then twisted her head to look at Erik. Erik was watching Raoul with dark rapture, his eyes lit with desire and cruel intent. Looking at him, Christine’s orgasm crested again, and she collapsed between them, spasms racking through her as she moaned and sobbed uncontrollably.

After a time, Christine was lucid enough to hear the soft voice of Raoul say, ‘Please, Erik, I can’t hold out any longer…’

‘Really, precious? Are you sure?’

‘Please, Erik…’

‘Wouldn’t you like to remain inside our beloved Christine a little longer, feel her walls wrap around you, feel my cock rub alongside you?’

‘I can’t, Erik. Please…’

‘Very well.’ Unseen by Christine, Erik tightened his grip on Raoul’s balls, as he gasped. ‘Come, Raoul.’

Christine felt Raoul’s hips jerk, felt him spasm within her, and felt that flood of warmth inside her as he moaned. As if in answer, her own body clamped down, and she closed her eyes, riding the sensations of Raoul beneath her and Erik behind her, the latter continuing to thrust steadily into her.

After a moment, there was a soft exchange between Raoul and Erik, and Christine’s hips were lifted from behind by strong hands. She felt Raoul slip from her, felt wetness seep from her. She was pulled back, dazed, into a strong chest, and leaned against it as she looked up into Erik’s face, and he leaned down to claim her mouth.

Raoul repositioned himself before them. Christine jerked from the kiss with a gasp as she felt a tongue slip between her velvety folds, circling her clit. The stimulation seemed somehow to intensify the pleasure within her arse, as if all her nerve-endings had come alight. As she began to come again, whimpering weakly, she felt the tongue leave her. She could feel Raoul’s face still there, but looking down she could not tell what precisely he was doing.

But Erik felt that soft tongue at the base of his shaft, lapping the point where he and Christine were joined. Erik growled, and felt Raoul’s mouth travel lower, kissing and suckling his balls. Erik pushed himself savagely deep, spilling at last deep inside of Christine. Raoul emerged from between Christine’s legs, and as Erik lowered Christine to the mattress, Raoul knelt beside him, watching him leave her body, come dripping from that tight hole that closed, twitching, behind him.

Christine’s legs trembled and collapsed beneath her. Erik smacked her arse to see if she was still awake, and heard her moan softly. Raoul reached out, tracing the handprint. Then he found his hair caught in a strong grip, and his face turned up for a rough kiss.

He broke away as Erik’s hand wrapped around his genitals, fondling gently.

‘Erik…’ Raoul said cautiously.

‘We shall have to try that again sometime,’ Erik said, his voice as caressing as sin.

Raoul tilted his head to kiss Erik’s strong, perfect jaw. ‘Hmm…’

‘And what we did this morning.’

Raoul paused, feeling his sweet spot tingle at the memory. ‘Yes…’

 ‘You were right, Raoul. It is nice to have a lady around, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, monsieur.’

‘I did enjoy feeling you inside of her.’ Erik squeezed Raoul’s genitals, looking down into Raoul’s face, eyes teasing.

‘So did I.’

Erik smiled, and let go of Raoul, reaching for Christine instead. His thumb hooked between her plump lips, working in Raoul’s stray seed that had seeped from her. He felt her twitch, and heard her gentle sigh.

‘I hope it takes,’ Erik said, smiling at the dazed look on Raoul’s face as he sucked his thumb into his mouth.

‘I hope it doesn’t,’ Christine muttered, turning her heard to regard them sleepily. ‘Because I would love to do that again.’

~*~

Of course, the above instance was not the occasion of the little Mademoiselle de Chagny’s conception. Nine months later, Christine gave birth to a fine young girl with shining blue eyes and a full head of rich black hair. They named her Erica, after her godfather, whom she rather resembled.

Erica had, in fact, been conceived the very day they had come to New Orleans, and so all subsequent attempts had been rather pointless. Had Raoul agreed to fight for the privilege of being first to bed Christine, there could have been a chance she might have been his child. Or there might have been, had he stood the remotest chance of overpowering Erik.

But when sometime later another child was born, a boy with russet hair and green eyes, they named him Philippe, after his uncle. And that was the first biological child of Raoul.

When Raoul became Comte de Chagny, it followed that Gustave became the viscount, a fact that Erik took much delight and satisfaction in teasing Raoul about, and which never failed to inflame the desire of Christine. Raoul, of course, did not care at all that his heir was really Erik’s son, but rather took some wicked pride in the fact.

After all, what a scandal it would cause back in Paris if it were ever known that Raoul’s first son, the young Vicomte de Chagny, was really the illegitimate son of the infamous and elusive Phantom of the Opera.