A Thrill on the Tongue

Part 2 - ...of Stolen Sweets


Moaning in sensual torment Raoul dropped back bonelessly onto a silken pillow, pale velvety skin a sharp contrast to the wine red. The Phantom followed , like a predator, immediently at his throat. He used tongue, teeth and lips in a sultry dance against Raoul’s skin, making love to his collar bone with his mouth. The gentle scraping caused an instant reaction and Raoul arced upward, gasping and groaning in the sweetest of agony. The Phantom seemed to be everywhere, caressing his hip bone, kissing his neck, stroking his chest, flicking a nipple pressing a hard, firm thigh right THERE almost as if he could see in Raoul’s mind and find where it provoked the highest pleasurable response.

“Oh God.” Raoul gasped huskily as a cool leather gloved hand wrapped easily around his throbbing erection. The phantom chuckled, vibrations resounding through his chest and to the naked flesh of Raoul’s torso. The muscles there rippled, quavering at the sheer sensuality of the man straddling them. The hand slithered upward circling the width of him, then slid down, causing violent shudders up and down Raoul’s entire body. Seeming to understand, the phantom repeated the motion, pressing his body intimately with Raoul’s.

Chest to chest, eye to eye, the Phantom securing on hand in his hair while the other still fondled and caressed the firm length of Raoul. He caught the thinner man’s lips in a soft, gentle kiss. Raoul couldn’t believe how good, no, frankly delicious the stroking became, causing him to rise and shift with every downstroke. After a sensual lasting moment of the blissful petting the Phantom levered himself off of the blonde Viscomte and disappeared from Raoul’s line of vision.

On his back, dazed and recovering as the feeling of the Phantom’s hard body still resonated in every cell of his body, Raoul couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t even breath properly for a very long moment. His eyes were shuttered closed, but he felt when the Phantom lay beside him, observing the awe-struck Viscomte smugly. And it was smugly. He could FEEL the bastard’s amusement at his inexpertness with the male body even with his eyes shut.

Raoul cracked one of said eyes open and glared hatefully at the man beside him, then jerked both eyes open in surprise. The Phantom had removed his coat and vest and cummerbund and undershirt and lay, decadently beside him, topless. Unable to help himself, Raoul devoured the smooth sleek lines of muscle with his eyes, the extremely pale skin gleaming in an unearthly way even in the dim light. The Phantom’s nipples were flat and a pale peach and his chest, very much like his nether regions, was entirely hairless.

“I’m flatter.” the Phantom chuckled at the obvious lust darkening his young bedmate’s eyes at his half-nude form. The Lord blushed slightly, adverting his eyes. Erik let out an exhilarated laugh and rolled over to straddle him. Catching his eyes, he continued, “-although you seem to be a virgin in the fullest sense of the word. I even get a blush!”

“Get off!” Raoul hissed, struggling under him, which did nothing. the phantom, for all his lean elegant looking form, was really rather strong. With an easy movement, the Phantom secured the half-heatedly struggling hands above Raoul’s head, then kept them there with a convenient piece of twine.

“Do not!” He commanded when Raoul went to bring them down. Raoul froze, caught in those beautiful, gold-flecked eyes. Funny... even from a scant foot away their color eluded him. Erik, satisfied, leant back and took out a simple rose from behind him on the floor. Raoul’s eyes caught the fragrant flower, confused as to why he missed the heady aroma.

Erik, contrary to popular belief, did not favor red roses. He liked all roses. The elusive scented light pinks, intoxicating blood reds, shocking neon pinks. But what he chose for his little Lord, well, he had to admit, held a certain sway over his artists heart.

The size of two full hands cupped together, the creamy ivory petals deepened to butter yellow at the center, an impossible amount of petals, fully opened, met the eyes. It was subtle, but held a power all its own, the pure beauty of the bloom slowly pervading every sense slowly, seeping in until it ensnared eyes, and nose and mind and your very self.

And Erik had four such enormous blooms beside him.

With Raoul bound by rope and spell bound by the blossom, Erik brought it up to his face, allowing the light elusive fragrance to tickle the Viscomte’s nose, before lightly dragging the rose down his bronzed collar bone. Raoul’s eyes fluttered closed softly and he gave a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, bending his neck to the cool velvety feeling. The Phantom traced the giant blossom down, over the impressive muscled torso, swirling gracefully over the dip of his belly button and danced the flower over the sculpted planes again.

Bringing the large bloom up to his other hand, Erik gently but firmly held the flower’s main body and twisted the stem, which came off easily. With a careless grace, he tossed the cool silken petals on the Viscomte, the ivory a silken contrast to the tan of his skin. An impossible amount of petals covered him for just for one bloom, Raoul thought taking a glance at his chest, but then again, everything about this day seemed impossible.

Eyes unreadable, the Phantom dragged a sensuous hand down his body pressing and crushed a few petals, releasing their cloying fragrance thicker in the air. Raoul moaned softly, arching to the touch, the relentless ache once again pounding through him with bruising force. Erik pulled the second flower and without wasting time, pulled the petals off and tossed them. As if in slow motion, he leaned down and amongst falling flower petals, gentle pressing their lips together.

The room spun, arousal and heat rising as the kiss turned and became fierce, both parties using lips and teeth in their haste to devour that much more of each other. Raoul brought his bound hands and pulled them over the Phantom’s head, while Erik shifted into the vee of Raoul’s thighs, hastily caressing the full length of the Viscomte and then releasing himself from the confines of his last remaining garment. Distracting Raoul with kisses and touching, he blindly groped behind him and pulled a vial from amongst the two remaining flowers.

Revealing amazing skill, he uncorked it and felt the cool thickened oil pour into his palm. With practiced ease he sheathed his erection in the flowery scented oil, and then caressed the puckered entrance of the man beneath him. To Raoul, wrapped in a blanket of kisses and rose scents, this felt amazing, such feeling for a simple caress. To Erik, it was embarrassingly simple to arrange the boy to his liking and press intimately against his slackened passage.

Raoul went completely stiff when he felt the gently prodding, a feeling a pleasure so akin to pain jerked through his body with a thunderstorm’s force that he quailed beneath it. Erik wouldn’t have any of it, and with relentlessness, pressed deeper, until he got past the thick barrier. A shot of burning fire consumed Raoul, and unbeknownst to him, tears leaked from his eyes.

Erik gasped at how tight and hot Raoul was, only half way in and he could almost come here and now. He controlled himself, pressing deeper and deeper until he was in completely. Raoul let out a harsh, guttural cry, tears flowing freely from his eyes. Oh God! He thought. It hurt so much, it burned and yet...

The burning was sweet, the pain only adding to his pleasure after the Phantom was deep inside. When he pulled out, Raoul thought he would die of emptiness, and die of an agony so like pleasure it was glorious. When he slid easily back in Raoul cried out and couldn’t help but come, then and there and with a burning, aching blissful pleasure he was sure was completely unknown to man. It flowed through him like a burst dam, so large and overwhelming his eyes fluttered back and he passed out.

Erik felt the boy tense, then shudder beneath him and felt his orgasm and, as Raoul clenched his entire body, he followed with a short thrust and a loud cry and the force of the orgasm almost made his eyes roll back. He opened them, clenching Raoul’s hips so hard he left crescent moons the bled, and bonelessly fell beside the Viscomte, breathless and shaken with the force of his second greatest orgasm that night.

He turned to him, intent of asking if he wasn’t as virgin as previously thought, only to discover the boy knocked clean out, satiated with a giant goofy, pleased grin on his handsome lips and blonde locks plaster to his sweat dewed forehead. Erik chuckled tiredly, levered the almost unconscious body half on him and closed his eyes.

Unaware of the same grin, goofy, huge, and entirely self satisfied, curving his own lips. 


Part 1 ~~~~~~~~ Back to Phantom of the Opera ~~~~~~~~           


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