Prompt Post: ROUND THREE
ROUND THREE IS CLOSED
<< ROUND TWO | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND FOUR >>
Rules post.
Flat view.
Updates Post (WIPs only)
Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
There may be some delay on posts appearing when there is a URL in the message body as they are automatically marked as suspicious and I ( Read more... )
<< ROUND TWO | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND FOUR >>
Rules post.
Flat view.
Updates Post (WIPs only)
Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
There may be some delay on posts appearing when there is a URL in the message body as they are automatically marked as suspicious and I ( Read more... )
Now Lehnsherr is stepping aside and gesturing towards the Ducati, and Hank seems hesitant. After more cajoling from Lehnsherr, the boy finally gives in and throws a long leg over the bike, straddling it comfortably. The growing grin on the boy's face does little to hide his genuine excitement, and Lehnsherr is patting his back heartily in a show of encouragement.
"What are you looking at?" Raven squeezes in beside him, her mouth open in an 'O' when she sees Hank on the Ducati. "Wow. Hank looks pretty bad-ass on that bike."
"He does," Charles admits. And he's not the only one. With Lehnsherr's black leather jacket which conceal his exotic tattoos and his dark jeans, he cuts a rough, stern figure. A man's man, like a cross between Clint Eastwood and the Marlboro Man.
Then Lehnsherr is looking up at them, and Hank follows his gaze. Charles and Raven manage a small wave.
"Wow," Raven says again as they step away from the window, pretending to fan herself. "Erik's actually not that bad, huh?"
Charles makes a noncommittal sound, feeling the ghost of Lehnsherr's breath on his neck again. "I suppose, if you're into the whole serial killer vibe."
Raven laughs loudly. "You're way too hard on him, you know?" she admonishes him. "Besides, you are the one who hired him."
"Don't remind me," Charles says, mentally shaking himself and checking his watch. Time to go check on the others. "Help me tell Moira where everything is, would you? Oh, and would you also try talking to Angel a bit? I'm afraid she might take a while to open up, and it might help for her to have another girl around to talk to."
"I'll try." Now Raven is looking at him rather thoughtfully, and he is more than familiar with this level of scrutiny. It always, always means that his sister is up to no good. "Are you okay, Charles?"
"Don't be silly." He flashes her a quick smile, pulling her in for a kiss on her cheek. "With the way I'm constantly running after you lot, it'll be a miracle if I don't lose all my hair."
Rolling her eyes, Raven shoves him out of the guestroom. "Love you too!" she laughs, blowing him a kiss.
Shaking his head, Charles is about to head over to Sean's room when he hears the roar of a motorcycle engine stuttering to life, and he resists the urge to walk over to the window, or to the door when Hank comes in and pushes in the bolts, his face flushed with barely concealed glee.
That night, Charles doesn't get much sleep again.
Reply
And I love the little shark comment too. Heh.
Reply
Keeping an eye on this, you're doing a fantastic job! :D I kind of have to suck in more air every time I imagine Fassy!Erik in just overalls, worker's gloves, a hard hat maybe, and tools. And tats. ffffffffffff
Reply
HAHAHA! I love snarky Alex! And I totally agree with him.
Oh man, oh man, ERIK IS CRAZY HOT. He speaks Spanish. The tats, leather jacket, the bike. AND THE JEALOUS STREAK. I don't think Charles will ever get a good night's sleep until he taps that.
Reply
Can't wait for more!
Reply
Reply
Reply
<3<3<3<3<3<<3
This is magnificent. I am in love.
Reply
Please. I beg you. MORE! *flails* :D
Reply
Reply
Seriously, I'm starting to look like Sharkbender. Multilingual!Parent!Jealous!Erik FTW!
Can't wait for more!
Reply
Reply
nine.
The water feels a little cold, but Charles simply can't bring himself to care. There are other far more important, far more delicious things in the shower distracting him now, like the press of Erik's wet skin against his, or the way Erik's mouth feels on Charles's collarbone, alternating between kisses and soft bites, leaving red marks all over his pale skin.
The best distraction of all, of course, is how Erik's large, warm hand is stroking him firmly, upwards, his grip slick with soap. With every stroke, Charles makes these embarrassing little hitching noises, but they seem to turn Erik on, his nostrils flaring with every sound Charles makes. Charles is helpless, pinned against the wall like this, his hips arching up into Erik's deft, work-roughened hands, grabbing onto Erik's broad shoulders for balance as he slowly fucks the tunnel of Erik's fist.
Now Erik's lips have reached his ear. "I want you in my mouth," he whispers in perfect, German-accented English. "Please, please let me suck you off."
"God, yes." Charles tangles his fingers in Erik's damp hair, tugging on the dark blond strands just to hear him growl and beg some more, while the other hand is already pushing down on Erik's shoulder of its own accord, echoing Charles's overpowering desire to see Erik on his knees. Now he is looking up at Charles, those bottle-green eyes glinting with desire and maybe something a little more, and when his mouth finally envelops Charles, so warm and so wet, Charles can't help but surge up into that heat, words of French and German and Spanish falling from his lips like rain, all different but saying the same thing, that Erik, Erik--
The sound of the beeping alarm clock jerks Charles out of slumber, and a guttural groan escapes him when he realises it was all a dream, his hands feeling oddly empty as though something has just been snatched out of their grasp. He rubs his face, twice, but it's no use: he is so hard that even the heavy quilt is tented. Charles eyes his erection evenly, wondering if he should take matters into his own hands, but the sounds of voices and running footsteps outside his door dash that dream. The children are already heading down for breakfast.
A cold, cold shower, then - he forces his eyes shut, willing away the last wisps of his cruelly identical dream earlier - and Charles feels more respectably human, and less likely to maul an unsuspecting Lehnsherr over the breakfast table. He pulls on his favourite shirt and a cardigan - what Raven calls his 'professor-ish outfit' and heads down to the dining room, giving the kids a wave at the chorus of hellos and good mornings. He collects his food, studiously trying very hard not to look at Lehnsherr who is seated at the other end, and Charles plops himself down next to Moira and Raven instead.
"Went jogging, Charles?" Raven asks through a mouthful of food. "You look flushed. And exhausted."
"I'm fine," he says calmly, even as the kids start casting curious glances his way. "Sean, could you pass the shower- I mean, the salt. Pass the salt, please."
Sean warily hands over the salt as though it is a bomb.
"What do you guys have planned for the weekend?" Moira asks, when it becomes apparent that Charles is not going to say anything else and looks particularly interested in his eggs and ham, and the kids return to their bored chatter. "The weather looks promising."
"Are we going outdoors?" That is from Hank, who looks distinctively uncomfortable at the thought of engaging in any sport or sport-related activity.
"Wuss," Alex mutters under his breath, then an indignant 'ow!' as he bends down to massage his bruised foot, while Raven continues chewing her food innocently, her retrieving foot unseen under the table. Alex shoots her a glare. "What did I say?"
"Going outdoors sounds like a good idea," Darwin says quickly, before a fight can erupt. "What is there to do around here? I need to explore this place anyway."
Alex perks up. "I'll take you around, dude."
Reply
***
It is Moira's idea to take advantage of the sprawling green fields in front of the mansion for a soccer game, even though Charles tamps down the urge to correct her and call it by its proper name, the one he had learned in Oxford: football. Still, it doesn't matter because most of the kids (except a dejected Hank and an indifferent Angel, finally coaxed out of her room by Raven's many pleas) look forward to spending time in the sun, be it playing soccer, football or what have you. A picnic basket is also prepared, although Charles seriously doubts that it is sufficient to feed four teenage boys who can strip bare an entire fridge, much to Mrs Rodriguez's astonishment.
The dividing of everyone into two teams is spectacularly more difficult than it should be, as Charles is trying to be fair and the boys all want to stick together. He is more than relieved when Darwin steps forward and offers to form a team with Raven and Moira, so Hank falls in beside Alex and Sean. As Charles blows his referee's whistle, his eye falls on Angel, sitting coquettishly in the shade and looking bored. Well, at least she had agreed to come out with them. Charles knows how to be grateful for minor victories.
The match starts out a little bumpily, people confused about their positions, but thanks to Moira's training from her college soccer years, she explains what she can to the kids, Charles watching her with a grateful smile. At last the game gets going properly, and it is clear from the start that Darwin is a natural at this, dribbling the ball at his feet with fluid grace. Charles remembers the scared, beaten boy who had been assigned to him a year ago. Darwin had been terrified, skinny, plain Armando then, but now, a year shy of being an adult, he is helpful, quick to laugh, generous, graceful.
Surprisingly, Hank is almost equally as deft with his feet, at least deft enough to leave a stunned Alex in his wake as he goes for goal and scores, inciting a squeaky cheer from Raven who seems to have forgotten her team alliances where Hank is concerned.
"Judas!" Charles calls out with a laugh, and Raven flicks her ponytail rudely at him. Moira shakes her head in mock despair.
After the third goal by Darwin, Charles begins to realise that Angel is no longer alone, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lehnsherr crouching on the grass beside her, pointing out the movement of the ball and explaining something, most likely in Spanish as it is doubtful Angel understands German. Despite herself, Angel seems curious, listening intently to Lehnsherr. Even from here, Charles can see that Lehnsherr's white tank top is soaked through with sweat, and the remnants of last night's dream come back to him with a vengeance. The white of Lehnsherr's - Erik's - sharp teeth dragging down Charles's throat, more vivid than ever.
"Dammit," he mutters, and blows the whistle. Half-time, then.
Reply
Moira has gone back to the city after staying the weekend, but her presence has undoubtedly done quite a lot of good. Now Angel is present (but not active) at most meals and social events, and in Charles's book, being merely present is good enough, for now. Another unbidden realisation that had come about during Moira's stay is how helpful it is for Charles to have another 'adult' to keep an eye on the kids, to balance things out. As hard as he is trying, there is no disputing that the presence of two 'parents' lends an even keel to things, taking the edge off the children's constant seeking of his attention.
It isn't that he wants Moira, or a wife, or anything of that sort. He wants an equal, a partner-in-crime, a yang to what Raven calls his very yin nature.
Needing a break, he steps out of the house while Hank is leading the evening study group. The sky is a brilliant coral, dotted with balls of orange clouds that look like God has spilled a bag of heavenly marbles. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Charles idly wanders around the compound, taking in the scent of the rosemary bushes that Lehnsherr had managed to plant in the garden behind the kitchen a few days ago.
The roar of a motorcycle engine cuts through the evening stillness. Charles can't fight his smile; it is as though the very mere thought of the man summons him.
The stuttering roar gets louder and louder, and Charles turns to face the Ducati trailing slowly behind him, Lehnsherr with the biggest grin on his face. He isn't wearing a helmet although there's one dangling from the handle bar, and the twilight breeze sifts through his hair, stirring it gently. Lehnsherr brushes his hair back like a cat, as casual as you please.
"So you're done for the day," Charles says, pointing at his watch, and Lehnsherr nods, coming to a stop beside Charles and killing the engine. The sudden silence is almost deafening, which only highlights how loudly the blood is rushing to Charles's ears. "On your way home?" he asks, forgetting that Lehnsherr can't understand him.
Lehnsherr only takes the helmet and holds it out to Charles in a silent request, and Charles gets what he wants him to do. "Oh no, that's all right, I shouldn't--"
A slight frown, then Lehnsherr is pushing the helmet into Charles's protesting hands, then sits back and waits impatiently, folding those tattooed arms across that marvellous chest.
Charles sighs. "Oh, for the love of--it's not fair, really," he mutters, more to himself than anything else as he straps on the helmet, continuing to grumble. "Bloody handsome sod, thinks he can smile at me and I become putty in his hands, so what if you're sex on a stick, bloody--"
Lehnsherr looks like he's trying not to laugh, and instead his hand beckons Charles closer, those deft fingers curled in, a language far more easily understood than either English or German. Come to me.
Charles goes, climbing onto the back of the Ducati carefully, his arm tight around Lehnsherr's waist. The man smells like fresh shower soap and cigarettes, and Charles tries not to think about how warm and solid the man feels, or how close he is to Lehnsherr. Not if Lehnsherr wants an unpleasant surprise poking him in the back, anyway. He holds on tight, and Lehnsherr lets the engine roar into life.
Reply
He is almost regretful when Lehnsherr comes to a stop by the main entrance, where Raven is waiting, watchful. "That looked fun," she says, the corner of her lips tugging up in a smile.
"It is," Charles says immediately, then flushes. He awkwardly climbs off the bike, leaning against Lehnsherr for balance, and lands neatly on the gravel. "The kids done?"
"Hank called for a break because Alex was driving him mad," Raven drawls. "I stepped out because I didn't want to be an accessory to manslaughter."
"I find that hard to believe," Charles says with a laugh, before turning to Lehnsherr. "Anyway, thanks for the ride. Sorry to keep you."
Lehnsherr doesn't move, though, and Charles is about to gesture towards the gates when he realises Lehnsherr is pointing at his head. "Oh right, the helmet! I'm sorry."
Once it is returned, Lehnsherr nods at him, then revs the engine and heads down the driveway, out past the gates. Charles turns away with a smile, almost bumping into Raven who is smirking at him. "What?"
"Nothing. I learned something today," she says before turning on her heel and heading back into the house, like she always did when they were children and she wanted to keep a secret from Charles, or at least torment him into begging it out of her. Charles rolls his eyes; there's no way he's going to play this game, not now.
Still, he can't help but wonder.
***
Progress is what Charles thinks when he walks past the rec room and sees Angel curled up on the sofa with Sean, their heads bowed over a magazine. For some reason he remembers that moment at the football match where he had seen Lehnsherr talking to the girl, and he wonders what he could have said to Angel, and if it had helped to open her up a little more to the others, if not him.
He hovers near the two of them, wondering how to casually initiate a conversation so he can get a gauge of how Angel is fitting in. Thankfully, Sean notices him first and looks up with a goofy smile. "Hey, Prof."
"How's everything?" Charles asks, catching Sean's eye and canting his head meaningfully at Angel's still bowed head. Sean, always one to catch on quickly, gives him a discreet thumbs-up. Maybe a joke would make her smile. "Have the boys been giving you a hard time, Angel?," Charles asks with a wink. "You must not hesitate to be a tattletale where this lot is concerned."
Sean clasps a hand dramatically over his heart. "Ouch, prof, right through the heart," he drawls, making her giggle. "I'm an absolute saint, man."
"Yeah, and I'm Lady Gaga in an egg," Alex says as he strides into the room, flopping onto the armchair with a groan. "Man, I'm beat."
"Where did you go? I was looking for you earlier," Sean says, nudging Alex with his foot.
"Oh, I helped Erik to carry up the bookcase for Bozo," Alex explains with a huff.
Angel's voice is quiet, but welcome. "Who's Bozo?"
Reply
Leave a comment