Multifandom Imagines (and a Headcanon set here and there)

Touch Me, Trust Me [Touch-Starved] - POTOber Prompt, Erik Destler x Reader

(A/N: This is a story I'm submitting for day 6 of POTOber on Tumblr. The prompt is Touch Me, Trust Me, and the assisting suggestions are Touch Starved/Hunger/Lust. AudrieBryant BrendaDaaeDestler Here ye go :D)

You walked down the winding staircase to the catacombs of the Opera House, making your way to your daily meeting with your boyfriend, Erik.  From just a quarter of the way down the stairs, you could hear his aggressive organ music; he must have been very angry.  Concerned, you kept on walking, unafraid of approaching him because you knew that despite how...conspicuously Erik's rage always manifested, he would never, ever lay a hand on those he loved.  You completed the journey in due time.  You walked up beside Erik to see if he would acknowledge you; he did not.  He never stopped playing, and did not so much as glance at you.  But he did not growl at you to leave either, which meant you were welcome in his space.  He also played his keys softer; though they never faltered in intensity, the overall volume was lessened.  You smiled at his consideration of your ears.

After a little longer, you put a hand on his back.  As if a switch had been flipped, his fingers froze and his body jerked up slightly, which you felt.  You could feel that his back was tensed up, and from the looks of his shoulders, they were as well, because he was expectant of you to give explanation for your action.  Slowly, he turned his head to look at you at last, confusion in his eyes.  You offered him a small but affectionate smile.  "What's the matter?" you asked softly, in case any indelicacy on your part would make him uncomfortable.

You saw his eyebrows begin to frown sadly before he looked away from you, hanging his head and tilting it to the side.  "It's nothing..." His voice was even softer than yours, because it was hesitant and sad.

You let out a huff through your nose - never in a million years would you believe that. Without a warning, you stepped towards him, murmured a, "Come here," and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into you until he was turned to you and your fronts were pressed against each other. You had both arms around his waist and were pressing the side of your head into his chest, your eyes open because it was your turn to anticipate his reaction. For a few moments, he froze up again, his arms out to the side, forearms towards his front.

Gradually, jaggedly, his arms lowered, and they were placed around you tentatively as he got a feel for his emotional response to your embrace. As he became more sure of what he wanted, he gently pulled you, still embracing you, to his sofa. Briefly, very briefly, he let go so that he could sit down and pulled you onto his lap. Immediately, his arms made their way to your back and upwards so that he could grip your shoulders from behind, and you had your arms around his upper back, one hand rubbing up and down his back. He buried his face in the top of your shoulder, rubbing his face against it until his mask loosened and fell off his face, dropping to the floor with a slight clatter. With his mask off, he comfortably pushed his face into your shoulder. His fingers were digging into your skin and burned a little, but that was alright; he was desperate for your touch, for your comfort. You had hugged and kissed him many times before, but no matter how much physical affection you gave him, he still absorbed it like a starving man everytime you touched him - and you always understood why, always happily held him, and never rejected him.

When you felt tears soak through your shirt, you turned your head and kissed the side of his. "It's okay..." you whispered, sliding your hand up into his hair and rubbing his head, your other hand rubbing his back, neither of you caring that you pushed the wig off.

He merely gripped you tightly and cried into your shoulder, needing you. You heard soft, miserable whimpers...poor Erik. He removed one of his hands and took the arm of yours whose hand was on his back. He guided it underneath his jacket, so that you rubbed him through his shirt. As he was about to reach for your other arm, you moved your hand yourself. However, you heard him murmur, "Under my shirt..."

You did as he requested; you untucked his shirt from his trousers and put your hands on the skin of his lower back; he let out such a loud relieved sigh, and you even felt his body relaxing. Aside from his skin, you could feel the multitude of scars and old wounds he had on his back, the extent and positions of which you had memorised from the many times you had seen and traced them. While you slid one of your hands further up his back, the fingers of the other began to trace his scars. With each progression of movement your hand and fingers made he tensed and immediately relaxed, sighing shakily everytime. You closed your eyes and kissed his head again. "You want more?" you whispered. He knew what you meant; he had you do it a lot of the times he was in a bad mental space and needed you to soothe him. So you both stood up, and walked to his bed (the proper one). As Erik walked, he took off his shirt and jacket, not caring that they dropped onto the floor, and then he let himself fall face down onto his bed. You sat down beside him and picked up where you left off with tracing his scars, with both hands this time. He let out a loud groan, mixed with relief and frustration. But he was not crying anymore, which meant that he was feeling a bit better. You kept doing it, moving to kiss along his scars as well, following the movements of one of your hands. You made sure that he felt comforted and knew that he was loved.

After a while, you noticed that Erik was no longer responding to the stimuli. Instead, his back rose and fell steadily with his slow breaths. You checked his face, and saw that he was asleep. You smiled fondly; his emotions must have taken a lot out of him. You lay down beside him. In his sleep, he scooted over to you and curled into your side. You gladly held him, being gentle so as not to wake him up. Though you did not fall asleep yourself, you closed your eyes and rested, appreciating the silence, peace, and most of all, the presence and company of the man beside you.