Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: Philippe could never deny Raoul anything. He simply loved him too much.
Warning(s): slash, incest pairing, rating applicable to this chapter
Pairing(s): Philippe/Raoul
Word Count: 2,791

A/N: Why do these types of chapters always take me a lot of time? And why am I so annoyed with Raoul by this point? This didn't turn out how I'd expected, so there may be a retake because Raoul as a crybaby really annoys me (though admittedly, he thinks he's ruined his whole family life and that he'll be disowned but still, stop crying).
Story note: Last chapter. Philippe better make Raoul see reason.

o.o.o.o

Deny Me
Chapter 06: Satisfy
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Philippe entered Raoul's bedroom cautiously, not quite sure what to expect from him: more tears, violence, projectiles?

Instead, Raoul stood by his bed, his back turned to the door. It took a moment of confusion before Philippe connected the presence of clothes haphazardly strewn across the bed to Raoul's jerky movements. His brother was packing. Philippe noted the messy armoire, its drawers half open with clothes spilling out of it. He was packing hastily.

The only acknowledgment he received was a pause in Raoul's efforts before he grabbed the nearest shirt and stuffed it violently into the pack.

Philippe approached him slowly. The closer he was, the more Raoul hesitated in packing. He knew it was because his brother was torn between speaking to him and ignoring him completely.

When Philippe was an arm's length away, without looking at him, Raoul said, "I'm leaving."

Raoul couldn't hide the tremor in his voice, and he didn't bother to hide the sniffle. Wiping the tears away with the back of his hand, he walked across the room to his drawers, increasing the distance between them. He made certain to avoid Philippe's gaze.

Philippe meandered to the edge of the bed, surprised when he saw that Raoul had actually gotten quite far in packing. This wasn't just a tantrum; Raoul was actually going to leave. Yet, the fear that had accompanied that thought lately was no longer there. He was under no obligation to let Raoul go. In fact, what his brother really wanted was to stay, and Philippe could see the reluctance clearly now.

Running a hand through his hair, he wondered how to even begin. If he said he loved Raoul outright like he had in the sitting room, it was obvious that he would simply be ignored. He could simply show Raoul how much he loved him, but that may be too abrupt a revelation for his brother in his current state. So, he decided humouring him couldn't hurt. "Where are you going?"

Raoul stopped rooting through his drawers and turned around to finally meet Philippe's gaze. The hurt was easy to see, and Philippe almost did apologize for not saying something else, for not simply forbidding Raoul to leave. However, he was determined to make Raoul see that his low opinion of him needed to be corrected. He wanted Raoul to realize that moving away wasn't going to solve anything, at least, not between them.

Raoul sniffled, frowning. He shouldered past Philippe and continued to pack. "I don't really know," he conceded softly. He turned around and pointed at Philippe, the trousers of his naval uniform in hand. "But I'll find somewhere. Maybe back to the port or something," he stated defiantly.

Philippe tried not to smile. He grabbed one of the pantlegs to pull Raoul's hand down from in front of his face. "Why?" He asked simply.

"What?"

"Why," Philippe made sure to annunciate every word, "do you need to leave?"

Raoul tugged at the trousers in an effort to continue packing. Philippe held firm, refusing to let Raoul turn away from him in this conversation again.

Huffing, his brother explained with a pained expression, "You can't possibly want to see me ever again."

"You're my brother," Philippe shrugged. He tugged the pants when Raoul began to turn slightly away again, "How could I not want to see you?"

"You're my brother. That's why." When Philippe didn't answer, he dropped his hand so Philippe was the only one holding the trousers, but he did not turn away. He added pitifully, "You can't want me here."

Philippe took only a moment to appreciate Raoul's wording, his eyes darting to the bed, before he answered, "Raoul. Stop packing. It's unnecessary."

Raoul glanced between his clothes and Philippe, silent for long moments before he said, "I can't…"

He was about to argue some more when Raoul finished.

"… you have my trousers."

Glancing down at the said article of clothing, Philippe grinned. Raoul couldn't pack – not stop packing. "That's right," he murmured. He could almost swear he heard hope in Raoul's voice, so he said the words that he knew Raoul wanted to hear, "You can't leave. I won't let you."

Even though his brother looked relieved, he was still close to tears. He exhaled sharply, bending forward a bit as his stomach contracted. "I don't deserve to be here."

Philippe tossed the pants on the bed and grabbed Raoul's shoulders with both his hands, holding him upright. "This is your home," he asserted. "It will always be your home."

"Don't you understand?" Raoul grabbed Philippe's hands off his shoulders. He dropped them and tried to move away but Philippe took a step closer to him. Raoul took a reflexive step backwards and the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. Forced to sit down, Raoul nearly landed on his luggage. Philippe leaned forward and Raoul's face flushed. He held his breath as Philippe reached past him to grab the luggage and toss it off the bed.

Standing straight, Philippe regarded Raoul seriously. "So, do you hate me or love me?"

Raoul looked at him in confusion for a moment before remembering he'd said he hated Philippe when he pushed him. "This isn't a joke, Philippe."

"I didn't say it was," Philippe replied, "I'd think it was far from it actually. Yet, those two phrases crossed your lips in the past few minutes. Your dear brother is confused."

Crossing his arms in front of him, Raoul refused to look at him. Philippe was almost certain that Raoul wouldn't speak when he stated dejectedly, "I don't hate you. I hate myself."

Sighing, Philippe shook his head. "Don't."

"It's wrong, Philippe," and Raoul finally looked at him, pleading with him to see how wrong it was, "I know it is and I've tried to fight against it, but I can't. I'm so sorry."

Reaching the limits of his patience with Raoul's continued self-recrimination, Philippe cursed and Raoul actually flinched. He looked at his brother with wide eyes and Philippe wondered if Raoul thought he was going to hurt him.

"Is there something wrong with love, Raoul?" Philippe asked, making sure his frustration didn't colour his tone of voice.

He didn't expect Raoul to answer. Cupping Raoul's face with his hands, he used his own sleeves to wipe away the streaks of tears. Raoul just looked up at him, speechless.

"I love you," Philippe said, hoping that he could get through to his brother. "I want to care for you, comfort you, and you feel the same way, right? Do you want to see me happy?"

Raoul nodded and brought his hands up to Philippe's and just like when he'd first arrived, pressed them tightly against his cheeks. His eyes closed, and with a sigh, he replied, "I do, but…"

"But nothing then. You know I'd never deny you anything."

Raoul opened his eyes. He pulled his hands away and Philippe could see that he was still unconvinced. He leaned forward slowly and though Raoul tried to lean away from him, Philippe didn't allow it. He kept his eyes open, watching every single little reaction from Raoul. His brother's breath caught in his throat and his muscles tensed. A tongue darted out to wet his lips nervously. Still, Philippe drew closer and gently pressed his lips against Raoul's.

Pulling away and releasing Raoul from his hold, he saw Raoul's lips quiver. Raoul reached a hand up to touch his lips; he was breathing hard.

"Do you hate me for doing that?" Philippe asked, wondering if Raoul would even be able to respond.

Jerkily, Raoul shook his head. He stood up, swaying a bit, before fisting a hand into the material of Philippe's shirt, holding on as though it were the only thing grounding him. Philippe steadied him – he could feel slight tremors running through Raoul's body and he wondered if it was shock or Raoul having to hold himself back.

Tilting Raoul's head up with his hand, Philippe leaned forward to press his lips against Raoul again, this time more firmly; he held still for longer before pulling away slightly. He lingered close, close enough to feel Raoul's shaky exhale.

"And now?"

Raoul whimpered softly, shaking his head. He swallowed with some difficulty before croaking out, "I love you."

"And I love you." Philippe smiled triumphantly at the responding smile on Raoul's face. His body relaxed into his embrace and Raoul clung to him, his head rested against his shoulder.

And, it was the scenario he'd forced himself to ignore for the longest time. Raoul, willingly in his arms, pressed as tightly together as possible. He could feel his body responding to the thought, to Raoul's warmth and solid presence, more than he'd ever been able to imagine. Now, all he needed to do was maneuver them onto the bed.

Philippe stepped forward, practically pushing Raoul forward. Raoul fell onto the bed with a yelp, looking partly surprised but mostly nervous.

"Philippe?"

Knowing he'd probably have to convince his brother that this step was alright as well, he knelt on the bed and every movement that brought him closer made Raoul move further until his back was pressed against the headboard. As much as Raoul was panicking, Philippe noted the responding arousal pressing against the front of his trousers.

He knelt before his brother and pressed several chaste kisses upon his lips, and while Raoul responded each time, Philippe refused to be the one to take it a step further. Raoul, whose hands had been clutching the pillow covers tightly, made a frustrated noise when Philippe refused to give him more. He reached up, grabbing the back of Philippe's head before deepening their next kiss. His mouth opened, tongue darting forward and Philippe needed no other prompting. At the first brush of their tongues, Raoul moaned low in his throat. Though he tried to press Philippe back so that he could kneel and possibly get some leverage, Philippe wouldn't allow it.

He dominated their kiss, pressing Raoul against the headboard. He wanted Raoul writhing beneath him and to possess him completely, and his thoughts were all centered around that idea. He wanted every moan and every breath. He wanted Raoul to be incoherent and still begging for him. Engaged in their kiss, Philippe trailed his hand down until he pressed against the front of Raoul's trousers, feeling the heat and hardness there.

Raoul bucked and gasped. Before he could protest, Philippe was kissing him again. He rubbed Raoul firmly but much too slowly for Raoul's liking if the jerking of his hips was any indication.

"W-wait," Raoul managed to get out, turning his head to breathe. His cheeks were flushed, his lips wet with saliva, and hair in disarray. Philippe didn't think he'd ever seen Raoul look so striking. "Don't."

Philippe pulled his hand away and Raoul actually moaned at the loss of contact. Instead of stopping, Philippe started to unbutton Raoul's trousers completely. Hands scrambling to stop him, Raoul was impeding his progress.

"Wait."

Philippe silenced him with a kiss that made Raoul dizzy with desire and need. Without any prompting, Raoul lifted his hips to let Philippe remove all articles of clothing from his waist down. Taking only a moment to appreciate the erection Raoul had just for him, Philippe grasped it tightly just to watch Raoul buck into his hand with a moan.

He stroked him from base to tip.

"Please…" Raoul exhaled, his stomach muscles contracting.

"Shh," Philippe coaxed. "It's alright, brother."

And Raoul moaned again, head thrown back against the headboard, eyes closed. He writhed beneath Philippe's touch and he took it all in, mesmerized. When Philippe's grip loosened, Raoul's eyes shot open and looked at him in desperation.

"You do this thinking of me, right?" Philippe asked.

Raoul looked at him in absolute terror, trying to hold himself back even when his hips jerked shallowly into Philippe's grasp.

"What did you imagine? My hand in place of yours. My mouth there instead."

"S-stop." Raoul's voice shuddered along with his body when Philippe's hand tightened. His hands feebly tried to push Philippe away, but instead he just managed to hold onto his shoulders.

"Would you prefer I call you Raoul? Msr. Le Vicomte?" Philippe asked. He wasn't sure why he was doing so either. Some desperate curiosity to know exactly what Raoul imagined the night before pushing him forward. Just something else of Raoul's to possess, his thoughts and sexual fantasies.

Raoul shook his head vigorously, hands clenching Philippe's shoulders, clearly ashamed of himself.

"Then, what?"

"Brother," Raoul nearly cried in frustration when Philippe stopped stroking him.

At first Philippe thought Raoul was just calling to him in mercy, to stop or start once more. Instead, Raoul averted his eyes, his muscles trembling at the effort of uncertainty, whether to press against his touch or pull away from it. Philippe's eyes narrowed in consideration before trying it out.

"Little brother."

Raoul's eyes shuttered close as he released a pitiful moan.

Though he didn't think it was possible, Philippe felt himself get harder. His erection pressed painfully against his trousers. He continued and Raoul let out a relieved moan.

Philippe was about ready to burst. Seeing Raoul with so much abandon, wantonly raising his hips off the bed, biting his bottom lip. It was more than he'd ever expected, and then there were the sounds. The sharp exhales and moans, the gasps when he twisted his wrist just so or the low whining when he focused his attention on the tip. Philippe kissed Raoul almost violently, wanting to swallow those sounds.

Raoul released his hold of Philippe's shoulders just long enough to wrap his arms around his neck, holding on tightly.

"Close," he breathed out, and Philippe knew he was.

He wanted to memorize everything about this moment, Raoul's need for him, his desire, his open mouth as he tried to take the next breath in, the sounds, the way Raoul felt in his hand, his brother's smell, and the taste of his skin, his mouth. He wanted to memorize them, emblazon them on his skin, so that each moment of the day he would know that no one else could have his brother like this, that no one else could make Raoul want this badly.

Showering Raoul's neck with wet kisses, Philippe whispered brusquely in his ear, "Brother."

Raoul tensed, mouth opening in a soundless yell as he came. His body shuddered against Philippe's and Philippe could almost feel his orgasm. When Raoul stilled, his arms loose around Philippe's neck, Philippe moved to lay him against the bed. Raoul went bonelessly, still breathing deeply.

Philippe kissed him once on the lips and moved away to deal with his own erection. However, Raoul grabbed his arm and pulled him roughly back towards him. Falling half on top of Raoul, Philippe gave him a confused look.

Licking his lips, Raoul pulled him forward for another kiss, their tongues stroking and exploring. When they pulled away, Raoul hesitantly said, "Let me." His hand slipped into Philippe's trousers and he couldn't seem to muster up the mental capacity to tell Raoul no or to stop him so that he could remove them. Instead, he could only see Raoul's intense focus and feel his hand grab him a little tightly and yet just perfectly.

And somewhere in his mind, he knew that he should feel something other than the pressure building up and the tiny shocks that were lightning up his spine as he rutted against his brother's hand while his brother coaxed him towards an orgasm he knew he'd never forget in all his life, but he didn't really. He felt his brother's warmth, his eyes as they watched his facial expression, his love. He felt his brother give him everything of himself as he kissed him just as desperately as before, and that's what sent him over the edge.

Arms unable to hold himself up anymore, he slumped against the bed pulling Raoul against him as he let the waves of pleasure wash through him. Philippe knew he should get up and clean up the mess they'd made. The stickiness in his trousers were already beginning to make him slightly uncomfortable, but he just couldn't bring himself to move. Then, when Raoul wrapped his arms around him, he knew he wasn't going to move.

Taking a deep breath feeling suddenly tired, he muttered, "Don't leave."

"I won't," Raoul responded just as breathlessly. He smiled, sated and finally at ease. "Don't leave me either," he whispered, moving as close as physically possible to his brother.

"Never," Philippe promised.

He'd long since put a name to his desire and it was love.

o.o.o.o

End of fic

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Story Note: Corny ending! And not how I'd initially expected, but it had to end somehow.
Okay, no full blown prons here, and while I was going to add it, I have a master plan. Trust me. This took too much effort anyway.