Variations of Erik: Robert Englund

Summary

What if Erik and Christine hadn't been 'interrupted' after the Masquerade? Language, N/C,

Disclaimer: PWP, M/F, oral, N/C, humil, angst, D/s
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Chapter 1 of 1
Posted: July 29, 2009

Variations of Erik: Robert Englund

Another installment in the Variations of Erik series. Today I give you the Robert Englund version, which sadly has almost no phan phic of it's own. Which is a shame, because despite some serious weirdness in the plot and such it's actually pretty kickass! The characters are not mine, and this is slightly AU in that after Erik kidnaps Christine the ratcatcher turns out to be too cowardly to sell Erik out.

I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, Erik or Christine. They belong to Gaston Leroux. These particular versions belong to 21st Century Film Corporation. This is only for the amusement of my slightly deranged and easily bored mind. I make nothing from it apart from a fool of myself. :)

Based on the 1989 Robert Englund version.

Warnings: M/F, non-con, D/s, oral, PWP
And for those of you looking for a warm and fluffy Erik. Well, this is not the place to find him.

He was livid! In his current state he was not entirely sure that he would not harm Christine. His beautiful, marvellous Christine. Who had, not ten minutes ago, betrayed him! He drug her down to his lair, his hand gripping her wrist hard enough that it would be a wonder if it wasn't bruised.
How dare she?! The little tramp, the trollop! Cavorting with that bland little nothing of a manager at the masked ball. When she wore his ring!
He angrilly tossed her onto a couch, grasping her wrists above her head and pinning her in place by straddling her. He taunted her, shaking his still masked face before her, "Faithfulness," He began irately, "Is not a quality I admire in you, Christine!" He then tore the mask from his face, for he wanted her to see how damned he truly was. To view who's anger she had roused so thoughtlessly. She gave a shriek at the sight of his mangled face, the sores still slightly moist from where he had removed the patches of skin that had begun to rot. "You will never leave here again!" He threatened. She wore his ring, she was his! His! And no upstart little pipsqueak would take his prize from him. He had waited so long for her voice to compliment his music. He refused to allow any thought of her escaping him into his head. He needed her too badly.
"Desire is only a demon, Christine" he continued pressing down upon her as she struggled to distance herself from him. "Hell is getting what you desire!" And it was true. For him the hell lay within keeping her. The anguish he had felt at seeing her with another man. For Christine...well the hell was him. She desired him, he knew it. She needed the music almost as desperately as he did. How could she not need him when the music flowed within him like an endless raging river?
He bent to posessively kiss her throat. He needed her. Needed the assurance that she belonged to him. She had begun to sob benieth him.
"Silence! You gave yourself willingly enough when I gave you that ring you're wearing. You can't welcome me into your arms one night and refuse me abruptly another!" He drug her hand with his ring still on it before her face. "I am the music, remember? You're mine!"
She whimpered at his rough treatment of her. "Please, Erik. I'm sorry. You're more than I bargained for."
He gave a curt laugh, releasing her hands, though making no attempt to move off of her. "You have no idea." He sighed, his anger smouldered in his eyes, though he began to settle into an almost errie calm. "Take off your gown." It was a command that brooked no argument, but Christine began to stammer protests. "This is not negotiable, my dear." A flash, and the small knife he carried on his person at all times was in his hand. "If you don't remove it, I will. And I cannot promise how careful I will be of your lovely flesh."
She whimpered miserably and began to unlace her dress, telling herself the entire time that Richard WOULD come. She would be rescued. Although she was almost afraid of his arrival. Erik was a dangerous man, and she hoped that her sweetheart would have the sanity to shoot first and ask questions later or he would never have a prayer of surviving his encounter.
Erik smiled lavaciously when she finally obeyed him. Pleasures of the flesh were not entirely unknown to him, but they were a rare treat. It had taken him months to work up the courage to invite even a prostitute to his bed, and though none had ever dared say a single word to him about it, he was never sure that they could not smell the death upon him. But now that she was here with him, he would never need to worry about that again.
Whatever horrible thoughts she harbored for him at this moment, he would make her forget them. Either through the passion of his love for her or his music. It did not matter. She would see things his way in the end.
She slipped out of the upper portion of the dress and stopped. The way he straddled her hips made it very difficult for her to continue. He understood and moved to lean against the nearby wall, still enjoying the sight of her, and still holding the knife where she could see it to keep her from getting any foolish ideas into her head.
When she had disrobed completely he stepped forward to pull her into his arms. She tensed at his touch, but he didn't care. He was very confident that by the end of their little tryst she would be begging for his favours.
He brushed his hands tenderly down her back, kissing her forhead lightly. She was trembling in his arms and he felt a tear slide down from her cheek and wet the collar of his shirt. He almost felt remorseful enough at that to release her. To crawl into his own little corner and wallow in self-loathing and drink. But he wanted her to learn that she belonged to him forever. That he was the only one who could ever stir the fire in her to a magnificent blaze.
His hands carressed her sides, soft and gentle, brushing down over her hip and up lightly against the side of her breast.
"My sweet Christine. You'll never leave me again, will you? You'll be a good girl and stay here with me. I will play for you every day and every night you will know such ecstacy with me."
She said nothing. She wanted to scream. To beat her small fists against his chest in a rage. But what would be the point? It would only anger him and she knew it. She would have to wait for the moment. Eventually he would let his gaurd down and she'd be able to escape. She would run back into the light and go home to America, and never EVER think about this madman or his genius again.
He took her silence as assent and smiled, tilting her chin up to look at him. "There's my good girl. You'll learn to enjoy it." He brushed his lips against hers and she thought she would retch. He pressed harder against her mouth, seeking her compliance as he pulled her tighter against his body.
She could already feel the evidence of his arousal and it sickened her all the more. The first time she had been with him she had been so blissfully ignorant of his atrocities. He had simply been her Angel come to life. And he had touched her tenderly and spoken lovingly to her.
Now she knew exactly what he was. How many people he had killed. How evil he was. And although his touch was gentle for the moment, she could still feel the broiling hatred radiating from him.
"Touch me, Christine." He murmered as he pressed another kiss against her throat. "Only your touch makes me feel truly alive."
She swallowed hard, his hands continuing to stroke her flesh in a manner that inflamed her body and made her mind scream 'no!'. Hesitantly she moved her hand over his groin. She could feel how hard he was already and she grasped him through the fabric of his pants. He groaned and thrust his hips slightly against her hand.
Erik was not, by nature, a very patient man and very soon her timid touch through the layer of fabric was simply not enough for him. He guided her hand to the fastenings of his pants and indicated that he really would be very much obliged if she would undo them. This point he puncuated by tracing the cold steel of his knife very lightly along her spine, causing her to shiver from a mix of terror and excitement. Her fingers nimbly worked the fastenings, having no desire to incur his wrath further. It would be very hard to plan a timely escape if she were reeling from a loss of blood or encumbered by broken bones.
As his erection sprang forth into her warm hand he gave a sigh of relief. She continued to stroke him tepidly, and she refused to meet his burning gaze. He felt his annoyance flair at this. It was no good if she was simply going to lose focus and escape into some little daydream of hers. He would not have her thinking of her lover when she was here with him! It was intolerable.
"Christine," He began coldly. When she glanced up at him he gave her a gracious smile. "Apparently this is a bit boring for you, my dear. Perhaps we should try something more engaging. I would hate to lose your attention!" And with that he shoved her roughly down onto her knees.
She gave a yelp as her knees hit the hard stone floor benieth her. The only response she received was a rather nasty laugh.
"Erik, please don't make me do this." She begged. She had very little doubt as to just what it was he wanted, and she was almost certain that she would be physically ill if he really forced her to go through with it.
He gave a snarl and snagged his fingers in her dark hair. "I don't think you really understand what is happening right now. You don't really have a choice." He rubbed the tip of his cock against her mouth, seeking entrance. "Which is something you really should have thought of before you ran to your young man. I would have done anything for you, Chrisitne. Anything! I killed for your honor! And if you had been faithful I would have been as gentle as a lamb to you and you would have had every power over me. But since you insist upon acting like a whore, I shall treat you like one!" He gave her hair a hard yank and when she opened her mouth to cry out he thrust his entire length in. As she fought not to gag upon him he growled, "If you even think of biting down you will bitterly regret it!"
When she began to suckle him he smiled and seemed to relax slightly. His fingers became more gentle in her hair, stroking her scalp lovingly. He watched her pleasure him, enjoying the small subtleties of the way her mouth moved around him, the feel of her tongue brushing against the underside of his shaft, even her lovely dark eyes as they looked up at him. The look was horrified and humiliated, but it was all his to enjoy.
He began to thrust himself gently within her mouth, now being more careful of her throat. Though she would not be the great diva she had hoped to be, he still wished to enjoy her wonderful voice whenever possible.
She could feel tears sliding down her face. She'd never felt so awful in her life. She was being used and abused by the man who for months had been her teacher and her guiding light. She wished she had never heard his voice! She would rather have stayed stuck in the chorus with a mediocre talent the rest of her career than to have accepted his tutaladge knowing what the ultimate price would be.
She sucked him, though. She even used her tongue to help pleasure him. The only hope she had left was that if she pleased him that perhaps he would either let her go, or become lax enough that she could make her own way out of this hell. So she would do whatever he asked, no matter how degrading, if the price was her eventual freedom.
He gently took her head between his hands and pulled her away from him. "That's enough for now, Christine. I want to spend myself inside of you, not like this." Her reaction was mixed. She certainly didn't want to have to swallow his seed, but neither did she want it anywhere else.
He began to remove his clothing, casting it aside with no particular care as to where it landed. Christine at first sat with her head bowed, but began to watch him undress when he stroked the side of her face to get her attention. He was lean and pale from years of hiding below ground, but had kept himself up well enough.
He offered his hand to her to help her from the floor. She accepted it with barely gaurded trepidation and once more he pulled her against her in an embrace. He tasted her lips first, claiming them firmly with his own. He took his time, moulding her body tightly against his as he explored her mouth with uncharacteristic patience. He trailed kisses down the curve of her jaw, his fingertips stroking her neck and collar bone. Christine closed her eyes and tried to ignore the way his lips and hands left trails of undesired fire across her skin. The way that the gooseflesh rising on her arms was not entirely from revulsion.
He allowed one corner of his mouth to turn up in a smirk as he felt the tremors he caused within her. But it wasn't enough. He wanted her on her knees begging for him before he was through. He bent his head and captured one hard nipple between his teeth, grazing over it and biting down ever so slightly until he heard her moan. He licked and stroked her perfect breasts, fighting the urge to simply plunge into her and fuck her senseless.
While he busied his mouth with her supple mounds, his hand trailed down between her legs to brush her dark curls. He slid one long digit between her folds and began to move it slowly in and out of her, flicking her clit with his thumb as he did so.
By this point Christine's head was reeling. She could feel the rough portions of his damaged face against her own smooth skin occasionally as he continued to drive her mad with unwelcome desire. The ache that was steadily growing between her legs was not to be satisfied by his hands, however well they manipulated her. She wanted him at that moment. God help her, she wanted this demon. But she bit her lip, allowing only muffled whimpers of pleasure to escape her throat. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of anything else.
Erik was being driven slowly mad as well. The sight of her responding--however involuntarily--to him was a very powerful aphrodisiac indeed. His loins ached for her even as his heart hammered at her beauty. His need was becomming painful in it's intensity. He needed to make her break soon or he would come undone.
He withdrew his hand from her hot core and she groaned at it's absence. He took a step back from her, admiring her wanton glow and the look of unfulfilled need that was etched on her face when he deprived her of all contact. "Erik..." she managed to whimper.
He felt his mouth go dry at the sound of his name on her lips. "Yes Christine? Is there something you need?"
He could see her shuddering, her body flushed from his touch and her eyes torn between her desire for him and the hatred welling inside of her. She took a step toward him, but he moved aside with an arrogant smile. "You look like there's something on your mind. Tell me what it is you want." He spoke those last words in a husky tone that spoke straight to her dripping sex. But still she remained silent, battling herself to control the lust he had stoked in her.
He stepped toward her, circling her like a predator. "If you don't tell me what it is you want" He flicked her nipple, "Then how shall I know what you need?" He ran a hand over her soft posterior.
She bowed her head, ashamed that her body should defeat her better judgement so soundly. "I want you Erik" she whispered softly.
"I'm sorry, Christine. I'm afraid I didn't catch that. You'll have to speak a little louder. I thought I had taught you well enough to project or your audience will miss the best parts."
He smiled as he saw her clench her fists at her sides. "I want you to fuck me, Erik!"
He'd won. "Only if you insist, my love." He was upon her in a second, pressing her back against the couch renewing his kisses with vigor. "Turn around" He murmered into her ear.
She did as she was told and he bent her over the couch, sliding his hands over her ass with a grin. If he wasn't so determined to enjoy the wet warmth of her womanly sheath he might have been sorely tempted by that tight little ass of hers. Oh well, there would be plenty of time for that later. He grasped his manhood and stroked the head against her entrance. She was incredibly slick and he had to hold himself back from plunging into her obviously ready womanhood.
She moaned and wondered what the hell was taking him so long to enter her. The teasing of his cock against her entrance was incredibly frustrating. "Please, Erik."
"Please what?"
She pressed herself against him. "Please, I want you inside me."
He needed no more invitation. He thrust himself all the way into her as far as he could go. He heard her cry out in glorious harmony with his own exclaimation of pleasure. Grasping her hips he began to pump within her, letting his head tilt back and a gutteral growl of enjoyment escape his lips.
She moved her hips against his, needing release. He had stirred her body into a frenzy and she thrashed under him unsure if she were trying to distance herself from him or press him into her harder. She felt him reach under her and press against her clit with his fingers again.
He toyed with her body as he fucked her roughly, one hand still digging into her hip for purchase. He was very close, he knew. He wanted her to come as well though, preferrably with him. But he would finish her with his tongue if he had to.
He thrust hard into her, and she felt as though he were trying to split her in half with the passion of his taking. But she didn't care. As he pressed hard against her clit she screamed, clenching around him and coming hard. Feeling her already tight muscles contracting around him drove him over the edge and he spent himself eagerly into her warmth. When he had finished he draped himself over her back, pressing kisses to her shoulder and neck. He could feel her body shaking beneith his with sobs and he held her against him almost tenderly.
"Forever...." He whispered softly into her ear before he withdrew his now spent member from her and left her to bathe.
"Not forever." She murmered, walking over to the organ and picking up the copy of Don Juan Triumphant that sat atop it. She gathered any other scrap of music she could find in his home and set it in a pile. Then she took a candle from the wall and let it drop, lit, onto the papers.



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Yeah, so next one will be all soft and cuddley. Maybe Charles Dance. If anyone has ny versions they'd like me to tackle sooner rather than later, let me know! :)
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