Work Text:
Miss Bonneofy
I find myself in quite desperate need of an alteration to a rather lavish piece of my attire. Be assured, the Palais Garnier will pay the dues in full on my behalf. The contents of this request will require a personal meeting. I will expect your presence upon the stage at four in the afternoon of four and twenty, October. On that day, the rehearsal of L a Scala di Seta will be on temporary halt due to the celebration of our Madame Giry’s birth.
I must request that you do not arrive late nor exceptionally early. I will lead you to my quarters upon your arrival.
Yours,
Erik Destler
. . .
Julie secured her bag as she pushed her way into the opera house. She hoped she had everything she needed for the job. Mr. Destler, more infamously known as The Phantom, had given very little information about what exactly he needed her to fix. Or hem. Or sew. Again, details were running rather thin. Because of this, Julie had brought a little bit of everything.
It was not her first meeting with Erik Destler. She had struggled countless hours trying to decipher the man. He spoke poetry like its own language and spent most nights upon his organ bench. He held her face in his hands like fragile pottery and whispered words of love and admiration to her regularly. He was a kind man. But she knew what he’d done. She knew he’d killed people. She knew he’d done this very thing to Christine Daaé and Julie feared desperately that she was either some distraction from the soprano or was simply The Phantom’s next obsession. Neither options brought her heart to a flutter, exactly, but he was a kind man. He was! She was not sure, exactly, if he was courting her or not. Surely he did not intend to marry her and for her to remain confined below the Opera House with him? She had a family, friends, a life. But she loved him. He held doors, and kissed her hand, his eyes traveled across her and she felt truly beautiful. She felt as though, in a room of the most beautiful women in the world, Erik would look and find her.
The walk to the stage felt eternal. She was not accustomed to seeing the Palais Garnier so empty. There was always, at the very least, custodians or actors to fill some of the empty space. She presumed that truly everyone was attending Madame Giry’s celebration. Julie had only met the Madame once or twice, and only briefly, but from what she’d gathered in those short meetings, Madame Giry was not one to throw herself a birthday celebration. She had an inkling this was a mandatory attendance that someone (other than Ms. Giry) had put on.
She had scarcely stepped foot on the stage when she saw him, standing behind one of the curtained wings.
Despite any reservation, she smiled.
“Good evening, Mr. Destler.”
Erik stepped forward, into the light, and dipped his head to her. Without a word, he took her hand, kissed it, and ushered her forward into the backrooms she knew led to Erik’s quarters.
“What was it you were needing me to fix, Mr. Destler?”
Erik walked in silence for a moment. Even without looking at him, Julie could feel his bashfulness. “It would seem . . .” He cleared his throat. “It would seem that, after your last visit, I found myself, perhaps, too excited. In my, erm, titillation I ripped my suit. It is something I, myself, would normally fix, but I am rather unfamiliar with the fabric and was concerned I may worsen the damage.”
Erik adjusted his mask nervously and Julie found herself, not for the first time, wondering how he wore it all the time. Surely it was uncomfortable? Perhaps even diminished his line of sight?
Julie knew that whatever had happened to Erik had occurred when he was very young — just a boy. Perhaps even in the womb. It broke her heart to think about. How could someone treat a child like that? Hurt them so? Had it been his mother? A childhood bully who took it too far? Or simply the wrong concoction of circumstances leading to the deformation of his face?
Julie could relate to one of those, a bully. She’d been bullied for as long as she could remember. Her family was wealthy enough and she’d been blessed to go to an all girls boarding school from age seven to seventeen. She remembered how excited she’d been. Her papa had helped her pack her shoes, her dollies, her dresses and he and her mother had kissed her head as they left. She was going to make friends, going to play games, going to learn Spanish and English and German and Russian and sciences and mathematics and cooking and sewing and oh! She could hardly wait.
But it was nothing like that. Nothing at all.
The other girls were cruel. They poked fun at Julie constantly. They called her stumpy and ghostly, promised her she’d never be offered a proposal and that her father would have to bribe some grouchy old bachelor to marry her. She heard the maids call her a spinster in the making — a woman destined for loneliness.
Her chest came in before any semblance of height did. She remembered how ashamed she’d been upon writing to her parents and telling them she needed new dresses. The old ones simply didn’t fit her. From that point on, any dress she got had to be heavily modified, something her mother began doing — and doing well.
That school had been Julie’s introduction to hating herself. Hating how she talked. Hating how she walked. Hating her breasts. Her stomach. Her legs, lips, nose, and chin.
Something about walking with Erik calmed those fears. Something about him made Julie feel safe . . . loved.
“So?” Erik was looking at Julie as they descended the stairs. “Think you can fix it?”
“Oh! Well, I’ll need to see it, but I’m sure I can.”
Erik let out an audible breath. “Wonderful. Thank you, truly. Would you care to stay for dinner, as well?”
Julie chewed her lip. She would’ve loved to, but she had prior obligations. Erik’s face fell as she told him so. “Perhaps another time?” She suggested. “We could go for a picnic. I’ll bring the food if you bring your favorite wine?”
Erik smiled, his skin catching against his mask. “I would like that.”
They had reached Erik’s 'lair’. Julie had never really known what to call it. His house? It wasn’t really a house. His room? It was more than a room. Residency was too formal. Perhaps she’d stick with lair, it made her chuckle.
Erik helped her from the boat and gestured her to sit on the bed. There, he left her, moving instead to his writing desk where a rather exquisite suit lay across the back of the chair. Julie could see his hesitation in mending it as he brought it to her.
It was a three-piece suit with a simple button up jacket. There were a few missing buttons on the jacket, an easy fix. The shirt was going to be the problem. It was a lace organza shirt, ripped around one of the buttons. She’d need to bring it back home to fix it.
“I’m afraid I’ll need to take this with me,” she muttered, letting the fabric fall into her lap. “But this . . .” She reached out and pulled Erik’s jacket towards her. “This I can do now.”
Erik nodded and stood in front of Julie awkwardly as she pulled her sewing materials from her bag. She had finished selecting her fabric, buttons, and threading the needle before Erik spoke.
“Would — would you care for something to eat? Or perhaps some tea?”
Without looking up, Julie nodded. “Tea would be lovely. No sugar.”
Erik turned on heel without another word, leaving Julie to her work.
—
It took less time than expected for Julie to finish Erik’s suit. Only about a half hour. Perhaps it had something to do with Erik playing his organ while she worked; inspiration of some sort.
“Erik,” she called over the music. “I’ve finished!”
Erik stopped playing, closed the organ key cover, and made his way over. His face was gentle as he admired her work.
“A beautiful job done by a beautiful woman.”
Julie couldn’t help but to scoff. She didn’t mean to, really! But she did. Loud, too. There was no way to cover up the fact that she had absolutely scoffed at a complement Erik Destler had given her. Right in his face. She felt a flash of fear. Would he hurt her for it? Kill her? Hit her? Erik’s face, however, showed no signs of anger or malice. He looked up to Julie, almost sad.
“Now, my dear, what ever do you mean by that?”
“I just . . .” Julie looked to her hands, still holding her needle. “I mean, I’m no beauty. I’m hardly even average.” Her last words were quiet, hardly a whisper.
Erik was silent for a long while, but Julie could feel him looking at her. His finger found its way under her chin, lifting her face to meet his eyes.
“Never in my life have I settled for less than the best, my pet. So tell me, why would I not choose the most stunning girl in Paris to be by my side?”
Julie blinked. “I – I don’t understand.”
“You are beautiful. Arguably the most stunning woman I have ever met.” Erik’s face drew closer to Julie’s, their lips nearly touching. Her chest rose and fell, only growing rapider as Erik’s hand’s found their way to her waist and his mouth found her own.
She felt a sort of expectant rush flee her body as Erik deepened the kiss and edged her back down onto the bed. She could feel the cool mask press against her face, made only colder by the brisk underground air. She breathed his name as he moved from her lips to her jaw to her neck.
Erik groaned, deep and low in his throat. His tongue raked her neck, chasing the giddiness that filled her.
“Erik . . .” She breathed, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. He looked afraid, as if he’d gone too far. “Erik, please, I want to see your face. I want to know you . Not just who you think I will like.”
He didn’t speak for a long while, his chest rose and fell, a beat marking the time as it passed. “You will hate me.”
“For what?”
His eyes widened. “I am hideous.” His teeth barred as he spoke. “A monster.”
“Erik Destler,” He turned to Julie as she said his full name. “You said you would never settle for someone who was – and stop me if I’m wrong – ‘not the most beautiful woman in France’. Hold me to the same account. Give me some credit in not choosing to love a monster.”
Erik blinked. “You love me?”
Julie reached up, grabbed his face and kissed his exposed cheek. “Desperately so.”
The next kiss that Erik placed on Julie’s lips was hungry. A plea for what neither of them were quite sure how to ask for. Julie felt her body alight under Erik’s touch. His fingers roamed, pushing her skirt and drawing back with large pleading eyes.
“I am sure I can contain myself no longer,” He whispered. “You must tell me now if you wish for me to go no further.”
Julie gripped the collar of Erik’s shirt. “I beg you: continue.”
From there, Erik wasted no time, pulling Julie to her feet to help her undress. He ripped away her chemisette and disregarded it on the floor. This revieled her camisole and corset. As Erik worked to remove her skirt, Julie worked on her jacket, unbuttoning it swiftly and tossing it off with her chemisette. Erik dropped the fabric of her skirt to the floor, allowing it to pool around Julie’s feet and give him space to remove Julie’s bustle. She stood, now, in her camisole alone, staring up at Erik.
She blushed, but grinned and began working on his jacket. “Well I can’t be the only one bearing myself to God,” she muttered as she worked with his jacket and shirt.
He was ghastly pale, quite like porcelain, but warm nonetheless. She kissed the center of Erik’s chest and unbuttoned his pants, glancing up to him once more.
“This –” she fumbled over her words. “That is as much as I know to do.”
Erik hummed. “You’ve done wonderful, my darling.”
He gestured Julie onto the bed and began kissing her once more, only much slower, much deeper. His hand found a resting place where her neck met her shoulder while his other hand slipped the strap of her camisole off of her arm. He did the same with the other strap and let the fabric fall to her waist. As it did, Julie watched a visible chill run through Erik’s body.
“Is – Is something wrong?”
Erik met her eyes once more. “God, no. You’re just beautiful.”
He kissed against the hollow of her neck and slowly down the middle of her chest, taking one nipple into his mouth at a time. Julie closed her eyes, letting Erik do as he pleased.
There was, however, one thing bothering her.
“Erik,” she breathed. “Please. Let me see your face. If nothing else, I ask this.”
Erik looked up, hesitating as he had hesitated before. “You swear to me, you will not despise me?
“I swear it.”
Erik nodded sharply. He took a step back, took a breath, and removed his mask, keeping his head down as he did so.
“Come to me, my dear,” Julie coaxed, holding her arms out. As Erik reached her, face flushed pink, Julie took his head in her hands. “You are beautiful, truly.”
Erik nodded, smiling softly.
“Now,” Julie leaned back on her hands. “As you were.”
Chuckling, Erik continued, hooking his fingers around the remaining camisole and pulling it down from Julie’s legs. She could feel the groan rumbling in his body as he kissed her neck and began undoing his own pants.
Though Julie knew the basics of intercourse through such means as the library and older, far-too-open customers, she wasn’t sure what to expect, really. But Erik was gentle, taking her thighs in his hands and pushing them open.
Julie had no judge of size, but she was rather worried exactly how Erik was going to fit.
The answer? Slowly.
It was not so much painful as it was bizarre. Part of that, likely, was thanks to Erik’s gentle movements, guiding himself and Julie slowly and, before long, the unfamiliar feeling began to dissolve into pleasure and Julie found herself enjoying the experience more and more. Exceptionally more.
Erik was moving faster, pushing himself in deeper and deeper, sending wave after wave of bliss up her spine.
Her hands fisted into the sheets as her head pressed to the side, her whole body was tense, enjoying every precious sound of skin on skin. Erik leaned forward, adjusting them so that he was kneeling on the bed above her, thrusting down.
Every breath was a whimper. Every movement a moan. She could feel Erik inside her, every subtle move.
It was so far removed from a simple kiss, so much more intimate.
Erik’s face was buried in Julie’s neck, muttering things that Julie could hear but not understand.
“Look at me,” She panted, making sure to find Erik’s eyes as soon as he did as she’d asked. “You are beautiful, Erik Destler.”
His face, previously a mask of concentration and pure ecstasy, softened.
“As are you, Miss Bonneofy.”
Julie could feel her naval tighten, could feel the muscles in her legs contract against her will. Her breathing grew faster and her head pressed down, sinking into the soft mattress.
“Erik –” she pleaded. What for? She had no idea at the present.
She seemed to completely implode as her entire body seized and she threw her arms around Erik’s neck and back, nails digging into his skin. She chanted his name like a prayer on her tongue and her eyes fluttered closed.
The tightening of her walls around Erik’s length was all he needed to finish, filling her with warmth, his moans joining the chant of his name past Julie’s lips.
Once more, Erik buried his face into her neck, doing all he could to catch his breath. Julie laid in complete silence, an unreadable expression on her face.
“Julie? Are you alright? Was that too much?” Erik’s heart hammered. Shit! He’s done too much! Gone too far!
“Why would they not tell us about something as amazing as that?” Julie finally muttered, meeting Erik’s eyes.
His panic subsided and he stood helping Julie gently to her feet. “What would you say to a bath? Wash off? You could stay here for the night. I do happen to have some sleepwear I am sure you would feel comfortable in.”
Julie shifted. She was, in fact, already beginning to feel grimy. Erik’s seed dripped down her legs and a sticky sheen of sweat seemed to coat the entirety of her body.
“A bath sounds lovely.”
Fin ~