Fiction: Smooth Operator (for sparklybee) (Mature)
Title: Smooth Operator
Author: phantomlady84
Canon: ALW 2004 movie
Pairing(s): Raoul/Christine
Rating: Mature
Summary: It’s Raoul and Christine’s wedding night…will jealousy taint their wedded bliss?
Warnings (if any): bedroom violence, sexual references.
Total word count: 4,202
Original prompt request number: 48



My footsteps echoed through the vast outer chamber of the church as I paced back and forth. Delicate white roses were shoved in every available container, the walls strewn with ribbons and brocades all gaudy and garish- all according to Christine’s meticulous wedding arrangements.

I sat down heavily on a stiff wooden bench. My wedding day… I thought with a bitter smirk as I drew a small silver flask out of my inner breast pocket. And what exactly was I marrying? The would-be whore to a hermit freak…how she had humiliated me! She wore my ring, professed her love to me, yet at every given opportunity she was all over that mutant, touching him, looking into those grotesque eyes, jamming her tongue down his throat…

But I’m no fool. I’m not getting married with the hope of one day winning a heart that I know will never truly belong to me…No, my intentions were of a more carnal, self gratifying nature. And in six hours I would bang Christine.

As I took a long swig from the flask I saw Meg coming round the corner. She wore a soft pink satin gown that offered a particularly good view of her bountiful cleavage. Christine had, of course, named Meg her maid of honor. I decided to put that title to the test. Quickly I tucked the flask away, rose and cleared my throat. Meg, who seemed to be hurriedly searching for something, looked up in surprise.

“Oh! Monsieur de Chagny! I did not see you there.”

“Hello, Meg. Is Christine still dressing?”

“Oui, I was just looking for some flowers for her hair. The ones in the dressing room have wilted.”

“That’s a shame…listen, Meg,” I breached the distance between us, coming to stand but a few inches away from her.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you that I thoroughly enjoyed your performance in last month’s La belle Hélène.”

“Oh…thank you, Monsieur..” She stammered, coloring slightly.

“Yes, it was quite a performance…I especially enjoyed watching you dance in that toga. That clingy white fabric…” I sucked in a breath against my teeth, blatantly scanning the length of her supple little body with hungry eyes. “Splendid, really.”

The girl’s mouth fell agape, clearly shocked by my bold words. I decided to take advantage of her stupor and grabbed her by the waist, crushing her against my stirring loins. The sensation of my ever ready cock must have brought her back to her senses for she quickly pushed out of my grasp.

“Let me go!” She stumbled backward and leaned breathlessly against the wall.

“When I…tell Christine…” She panted, her chest heaving.

“Oh, you will do no such thing, ma petite cerise.” I approached her in an imposing manner, cupping her cheek with my gloved hand.

“You’re forgetting, Meg, that I am the number one patron of the Opera Populaire. With but a single word I could have your mother out on the streets begging for her bread. And you…well, lets just say that if you don’t keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, the only place you’ll be dancing is Les Grands Pistolets. You know, that lovely gentlemen’s club just off the Rue de Prony.” I smiled down at her arrogantly. Her eyes glowed with hatred and she wriggled away from me once more.

“Christine’s not a fool! When she figures out what sort of slime you’re made from she’ll drop you like a bad habit, Vicomte!” She spat. At this I chuckled.

“Perhaps…but in the meantime I shall certainly enjoy the ride. Now, tell me, how do I look?” Again she stared at me with an incredulous, open mouthed expression.

“That’s alright, you don’t have to say it. I know I look fabulous.” I grinned, sweeping my hand through my delicious auburn locks.

“OH! Porc dégoûtant, you swine!” She spun on her heels and trotted away in a huff.

“Oink, oink!” I called after her.

The ceremony dragged on forever, though the sight of Meg glowering at me over Christine’s shoulder was rather amusing. Christine must have thought I was smiling because of her, for she beamed back at me in a gushing, adolescent manner. I nodded affectionately and clasped her hand, stroking the pale skin with my thumb. Growing up in a house full of women had most definitely served an educational purpose. I was not the soft, naive youth that so many perceived me to be; but I did know exactly how to act and what to say to charm the panties off a woman. It would be nearly impossible to count the number of undergarments that had fallen as a result of my adept persuasions. But Christine’s was a unique case…I didn’t desire merely to bed her and be done with it. I want to possess her, to make her completely mine. The Phantom made the mistake of pissing on MY territory, my property- though she was hardly an innocent victim. She will pay for alluring his affections and she will never know the touch of another man if I can help it…

“I now pronounce you man and wife-” Blah, blah, blah…in four hours I would bang Christine…

The reception was equally as tedious as the ceremony. Endless congratulations and well wishes, men thrusting their filthy hands into my own and nearly shaking my arm off. Women (the old, flabby ones), hugging me and pinching my cheeks. A nightmare, to be sure. At one point I noticed Meg trying to catch Christine’s attention. She was standing in a darkened corner, gesturing urgently as Christine stood in the center of a group of laughing chorus girls. Then she noticed me staring at her and paled.

I shook my head in a disapproving manner and proceeded to do a little shimmying dance, jiggling my imaginary tits. Then I held a silencing finger to my lips. Meg glared in disgust and disappeared into the crowd. With a smirk I withdrew my pocket watch and noted the time. In two hours I would bang Christine.

As the last of the guests filed out of the reception hall, Christine glided toward me eagerly and clasped my forearm.

“Well, my darling, shouldn’t we also be on our way?”

“Of course, my love.” I signaled for the valet to fetch our coats and tenderly wrapped Christine in hers.

“Cover up, dearest, the night is cold. We wouldn’t want you to catch a chill, would we Madame de Chagny?” She smiled at me, her eyes brimming with love. All I could think about, however, was throwing her legs up behind her neck and ramming her like a butter churn.

As we climbed into the carriage that waited for us in the courtyard, I instructed the driver to take us to the nearest hotel.

“But, darling, I thought we were going to Italy.” Christine said, her brow raised in a quizzical fashion. I pulled her close to me, holding her by her slim waist.

“Certainly. But do you really want to spend our first night together on the road?” I purred, nuzzling the nape of her neck with my nose. She giggled and kissed my forehead.

“No, I do not.” I tightened my grip on her waist and ran my tongue up the length of her throat. Christine gasped and clutched my thigh with her hand, sending a bolt of electricity straight to my groin.

“Driver, accélérez!” I choked out, not sure that I could restrain my passions until we reached our suite. In a mere twenty minutes I would bang Christine!

Somehow I managed to get us checked in without throwing my bride to the ground and fucking her in the lobby, though I wasn’t shy about groping at her on the way to our room. The moment we entered she stole away to the toilet.

“I’ll be right back, Raoul,” She whispered seductively. I smiled and began to loosen my collar as the bellhop deposited our luggage. When he had finished he stood before me expectantly; one hand on his hip, the other outstretched and waiting for a tip.

“Monsieur?”

“As if!” I scoffed. He sneered at me and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

“What was that?” Christine called from the dressing room.

“Oh, nothing. Champagne, dearest?” I asked, heading over to the table upon which sat a chilled bottle and two glasses.

“None for me, thank you.” This time her voice came from directly behind me. I turned about slowly. Christine stood in the doorway, wearing only a sheer, white bed wrap. Her wild dark hair was unbound and cascaded around her shoulders, though I could make out the shape of her pert nipples brushing against the gauzy fabric between the strands. She stood with her arms stiffly at her sides, a hesitant smile on her lips. My blood began to boil as my ravenous eyes roamed over her body; she was a sweet little lamb who had no idea of the slaughter that awaited her. I approached her slowly, like a tiger stalking it‘s prey.

“Come here.” I commanded in a low voice. Trembling, she slid easily into my arms, her lips readily meeting my own. I kissed her deeply, tenderly at first. But as my hands climbed over her body their touch became more insistent. She made no protest to my increasingly rough pawing, so I decided to take it a little further. With a growl I thrust her against the door frame. She let out a pained moan against my lips when her head collided with the hard wood, but did not pull away. Then I shifted and drove my knee upward, grinding it against her pelvis. At this she cried out, breaking our kiss.

“Raoul!” She gasped. “I know you’re excited…I am too…but please, try to calm yourself. You’re hurting me!” I nodded and slowly pulled her back to my lips, barely brushing them against hers. I trailed upward, lightly kissing her cheek, stopping at her ear. With a gentle kiss to her lobe I whispered,

“What’s the matter, dearest? Don’t like it rough?” Before she had a chance to respond I quickly swept my hands up to her breasts and gave them a good, hard squeeze. Christine cried out again and tore herself from my grasp.

“What in God’s name is the matter with you? Are you drunk?” She demanded. I grinned smugly and shrugged my shoulders.

“I’m going to bed! Perhaps we can continue tomorrow, if you come to your senses.” She spoke with visible outrage, though I could sense a wall of fear behind her ire. I could imagine the thoughts that were racing through her head; What has happened to my Raoul? Where is the man who so lovingly held me on the roof? The very idea caused me to nearly double over with laughter. Christine stood by the bed, watching me with wide eyed horror. At last I managed to compose myself and addressed her.

“You will do no such thing, my sweet. It’s our wedding night, and you are obligated to fulfill your duties.” I ordered flatly, gesturing to the erection that strained against my trousers. Christine’s face twisted in blatant revulsion.

“I don’t know what’s come over you but I have no intention of laying with you tonight, so forget it!” She pulled back the forest green coverlet, dismissing me entirely. I sprinted across the room and grabbed her arms, dragging her away from the bed. With a hard jerk I yanked her left hand upward so that it was directly in front of her face.

“Do you see this? Do you?” I thrust her hand so close to her eye that the stone of her engagement ring nearly poked her. She winced and tried to pull away, but I held her firmly in place.

“This says that you are mine, to do with as I please, from this moment until the day you die!” I hissed at her. A good amount of saliva, along with my cruel words, flew out of my mouth as I spoke and dotted her sallow cheek. Christine trembled all over, tears streamed down her face.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” She whimpered, almost inaudibly. I chuckled and leaned down so that my face was but an inch from hers.

“That is a very good question, darling. I asked myself the very same thing every time you dry humped that circus freak in my presence.”

“That’s what this is about? You’re jealous of Erik? I chose you, Raoul! I love you!” She pleaded desperately. I laughed again.

“Yes, and what a choice it was…a choice you will live with the rest of your life.” Without warning I back handed her, sending her flying across the room. While she recovered I removed the silver flask from my pocket, gulping down the remainder of it’s contents in one draught. Then I threw it and my jacket to the floor and approached Christine, who had managed to rise to her knees.

“Please…” She gasped, raising her hands to protect herself. I grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her to her feet. Brushing the wild strands of hair from her face I could see that her lower lip was split, a trickle of blood dripping down her chin.

“Come, my pet…lets see if you were correct in wearing that white wedding dress this afternoon. Or did the Phantom already rob you of your virginity?” Grasping her gown by the sleeves I ripped it easily from her body. She wore nothing underneath save for the bruises that were already developing, though not nearly enough to satisfy my rage. I struck her several more blows, some closed fist, some open. In the middle of my brutal tirade, however, I happened to catch my reflection in the dressing mirror. I gasped in horror.

“My hair!” I cried in a voice that would have rivaled any of La Carlotta’s wailings. I dropped Christine, ran to the mirror and fixed the locks that had fallen out of place. Then with a satisfied smile I turned back to Christine and shoved her to the bed, throwing her down on her back. Before she could get away I jumped on top of her, pressing down with all of my weight upon her shoulders. She writhed beneath me but could not free herself of my grasp. I kissed her all over, mercilessly applying my teeth to the pale flesh of her neck and breasts.

“Raoul! You’re a monster! A monster!” She shrieked, beating her fists against my back. I paused momentarily so that I could look her in the eye.

“A monster? But baby, I thought you liked monsters! I thought that was what turned you on!” With a beastly snarl I dove at her chest, taking her left nipple between my teeth and clamping down on it as hard as I could. She begged me to stop, screamed for help, cried bitterly, all to no avail.

When I finally did release her she lay motionless, gazing up at me with those huge eyes full of fear. I sat up, still straddling her, and removed my belt. Just as I was unbuttoning my pants the glass doors that led to the balcony of our suite seemed to explode, glittering shards flying in all directions. As the debris settled a tall, stately figure strode in, his black boots crunching over the broken glass.

Quite the imposing presence, he came to stand in the middle of the room, hands on hips, a heavy black cape as a fluttering behind him. And when I looked into those cold green eyes, especially the one that glared out from the gleaming white mask, my blood turned to ice water in my veins.

“Erik!” Christine rolled from beneath me, I made no move to stop her. I was paralyzed in fear. Not caring a thing about her state of undress she sidled up to the Phantom, cleaving to his solid body like there was no tomorrow. They gazed at each other for a moment. I felt a twinge of jealousy as I realized that there was some sort of silent communication going on between them, but still I remained frozen on the bed.

The Phantom removed his cloak and wrapped it around Christine. Then, with all the tenderness of a man who was already her lover, he reached out and dabbed at the blood that had coagulated on her chin away with his thumb.

“Will you leave this place, leave him? Return to me?” He asked quietly. She nodded eagerly, tears once again spilling down her cheeks.

“Go. Get dressed. Mind you don’t step on any glass.” As she scurried off to the dressing room the Phantom turned to face me. It was then that I noticed he wore a sheathed sword on his belt. I swallowed hard, my eyes darting from the sword to his face and back again. With a sinister smile he drew the blade, pressing the tip to the hollow of my chest before I had a chance to react.

“Any last words before I run you through, you spineless cur?” He put a little more pressure on the blade, slicing the first several layers of my skin. I laughed nervously, sweat streaming down my forehead.

“I…I have no sword. Surely you wouldn’t butcher an unarmed man?” I implored, my voice quivering. The Phantom pursed his lips in contemplation.

“You’re right,” He said after a moment, gracefully sheathing the sword. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“I shall kill you with my bare hands…it’s more fun that way.” I let out another high pitched scream and threw myself off the opposite edge of the bed. Not knowing what else to do I wriggled under the mattress. The Phantom gave a hearty chortle.

“Christine! Come and see your worm husband crawl!”

Helplessly I watched as his feet rounded the corner. His cold, iron hands locked upon my ankles and he dragged me from under the bed. My fingers left deep impressions in the fine Persian carpet as I tried to anchor myself against his grasp. It was no use, in seconds he had extracted me from my sanctuary. With the ease of a circus strongman he threw me up into the air, caught me by my throat and held me dangling in front of him. Slowly he tightened his grip and I began to see spots as his fingers crushed my larynx.

“Erik! Wait!” Christine’s voice rang out from the far corner of the room. The Phantom turned to her, though he did not loose his hold on me. Yes, yes! My love, my wife, she was going to save me once more! Unable to speak, I smiled broadly as she approached us.

“For some there is a fate far worse than death,” Her voice was cold, cold as the stare she gave me as she came to stand beside The Phantom.

“What do you have in mind, my Angel?” The Phantom inquired, visibly pleased with her icy demeanor. A slow smile crept across her lips.

“Take him to the bed and hold him.” The Phantom obeyed without question, throwing me down roughly and pinning me to the mattress. Christine went to the dresser and extracted a large pair of scissors from one of her bags. Like a specter from some ghastly nightmare she glided slowly toward the bed.

“What…what are you going to do, darling?” I sputtered anxiously. Ignoring me, she grabbed a fistful of hair from the top of my head in her hand and hacked at it with the shears.

“No! NO! Not my hair! Anything but my hair!!!” I wailed. My pleas had no effect, she continued to chop at my scalp, the scissors making the sickening sound of metal scraping metal with every cut. My stomach churned and all at once a great flood of vomit poured from my mouth, running down all over my neck. I prayed that some of the bile might soil The Phantom but he seemed undaunted by my violent purging. After what felt like hours the terrible cutting ceased.

“There. You really look marvelous, Raoul. Very modern.” Christine’s voice dripped with sarcasm. I could feel The Phantom’s grasp loosen as if he meant to let me go but she raised her hand to stop him.

“Wait, I’m not finished with him yet.” With a shrug the hulking fiend tightened his hold once more. I rolled my eyes back as far as I could to see what form of torture Christine was going to perform next. She’d taken the scissors, opened them as wide as they could be opened, and held one of the edges like a pencil. As she sat next to me on the bed a very queer expression, something like a mix of joy and hatred, played over her features.

“Christine?” I sniveled through The Phantom’s tight clutches. Ignoring me, she angled the scissors and pressed the blade against my face. I instinctively jerked away at the sensation of pierced flesh.

“Ow! You bitch! You cut me!”

“Very perceptive, my dear husband. Now hold still, lest I accidentally skewer your eyeballs.”

It was then that I realized exactly what she intended to do. She was going to cut me, scar me, shred my beautiful face so that I was as ghastly as her freak lover! This insight sparked me into a frenzy. I thrashed against The Phantom, twisting wildly beneath him, frothing at the mouth, cursing them both.

“NOT MY FACE! NOT MY FACE YOU TWISTED BITCH!” I shrieked madly. Suddenly I felt an odd pressure at the base of my neck followed by a curious drowsiness. The Phantom’s silken voice spoke right at my ear.

“Silence, buffoon! Or I’ll snap your neck like a twig!” The drowsiness abated as he shifted his hold on me but I remained still. Christine leaned over and resumed her devious work, slicing just above and below my eyes, the tip of my nose and the corners of my mouth. I could feel blood dripping in rivulets down the sides of my face. Despite the pain and horror that burned like a fever in my brain a deathly calm overtook my being.

When she was finished Christine let the scissors drop to the floor and leaned back, admiring her endeavor. The Phantom handed her a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe my blood from her fingers.

“Well, Raoul, now your exterior finally matches the wicked soul within.” She smiled ruefully and shook her head. “I cannot believe I once thought you to be beautiful.” The perverse pair rose from the bed simultaneously. Christine pulled her wedding band off her finger and threw it at me.

“Goodbye, Raoul. Think of me, think of me fondly, every time you look in the mirror.”

“Christine…” I moaned weakly but her ears were deaf to me. The Phantom hoisted her petite body into his arms, carrying her over the broken glass and out the balcony door.

I don’t know how long I laid on that bed. Long enough for the blood to dry into a thick crust on my face. Long enough for my throat to become parched and rasping after a flood of tears. I wish I could say I cried because I lost Christine but that would be a lie. Truthfully I feared what I would see when I looked at my reflection.

It was dawn before I could finally bring myself rise. I sat up on the edge of the bed, barely fending off a wave of light headedness. I stood, taking slow and leaden steps toward the boudoir.

The shock of seeing my shorn locks nearly caused me to faint. I stared at my head for a long time before I allowed my gaze to travel to my face.

At first it was hard to tell exactly what Christine had done. My eyes were swollen and the dried blood obscured the location of the wounds. But then I saw them… triangles carved above and below my eyes…a circle on the tip of my nose…my lips hideously elongated into an eternal smile by the slashes at each corner of my mouth …the face of a clown.

Unable to look for one more moment I crumpled to my knees. Doubled over, wracked with sobs, all I could think about was grabbing one of the larger shards of glass from the broken doors and driving it into my chest. What good was my life anymore? How could I go on?

But then something occurred to me. Christine had left my nether regions untouched by her vengeful blade…I could still take pleasure in others, even if they didn’t take pleasure in me! Hell, if an ugly bastard like The Phantom could find love, there had to be hope for me! My hair would grow back…the scars would fade…I would be back to dropping panties again in no time!