Prompt Post: ROUND SEVEN
ROUND SEVEN IS CLOSED
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<< ROUND SIX | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND EIGHT >>
Rules post.
Posting Guidelines.
Flat view.
Updates Post (WIPs only)
Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
There is a delay on comments appearing when there is a URL in the message body. This is due to an LJ anti-spam ( Read more... )
"I am not hiding anything, I simply don't have anything to say about them," said Charles. There was a sound that Erik knew. "Erik? I'm going to put it in now."
"Sir," Erik said, his voice low and throaty, and pushed back even more, invitingly. Something touched his hole, blunt and warm and unyielding.
"Wait, Charles," laughed Shaw. "I was in the middle of saying that one should, if one desires something, articulate that desire."
"You mean dominants should."
"Quite obviously. Now. As equals facing each other, I have quite simple terms- this is what I desire. Your research. This enhancing serum. Your cooperation with my industries."
The dildo stayed where it was, pressed lightly against him. Sweat trickled down Erik's temple. His elbows were starting to hurt a little.
"Mm," said Charles dryly. "Do go on."
"And what do you desire, Charles, that I could give you?"
There was a shift of clothing that Erik caught, hyperalert. A shrug, maybe. "Not too much, Sebastian."
"Och, you don't say," said Sebastian, and there was a movement behind him, and the dildo moved away from his ass. Erik's heart thudded.
"What-" Charles said, sounding blank, at the very moment the dildo plunged into him, hard and fast and ruthless. Shaw- Erik couldn't help it, he wailed, cutting off the sound into his wrist (it would be bloodied by the end of the night). Pain. His thighs quivered. Charles' grip, still having not removed itself from his ankle, tightened. It gave him something to focus on. He was pathetically grateful.
"I thought I told you to be silent," said Shaw playfully, pumping the toy into him, wrenching out sounds that Erik couldn't stop, could never stop. Shame and hurt. "But admittedly the sounds he makes are very pretty. Charles, you agree?"
The people had gone quiet, and Erik knew that eyes were on him, his humiliation, but it was all very far away. There were two things that mattered: Shaw pushing that thing into him and Charles' touch on his calf, warm and bracing. He breathed harshly onto the floor, knowing that it would be slick with spit when this was over. He just couldn't shut his mouth, because he couldn't breathe through his nose. Shaw knew that. He'd check the floor later.
"He has a lovely voice," said Charles at last, absolutely devoid of emotion.
"Would you like him?" Shaw said, matter-of-fact, conversational, but discreet. The conversation sprang up again in the room, attention shifting away. There were other attractions to be had, of course. And obviously Erik was occupied.
"If you would qualify that statement," said Charles, and his voice was as smooth and sharp as Shaw at his best. Despite everything- despite the T-shirt, they were matched. Erik shied away from thinking about it. Thinking about anything at all.
"As in permanently," said Shaw. "You have no current attachments. I know you are monogamous. To your detriment, I should say."
"It has its merits," Charles said. "Am I reading this correctly? You want my research in exchange for this young man?"
"Ahh," said Shaw, sounding self-deprecating. "In that fashion we would both lose. But I do not like to lose."
"Neither do I," said Charles, unmoved.
"Then we shall have stakes." Shaw sounded delighted. "All or nothing."
"What is the game?"
"I think it is fair that it should hinge on Erik," said Shaw, sounding pleased. "He has already come once this evening, but he is under a moderately potent aphrodisiac, so you should have a fair chance in making him come."
Everyone had gone silent again. Erik wished dearly he could see what was going on.
Charles drew in a long slow breath from behind him.
"And of course I shall order him not to come," said Shaw.
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Oh. My. God.
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"That's quite cruel," said Charles, and then a short bark of a laugh. "But what am I saying?" The hand on his ankle moved, and then there was something sharp and not at all unpleasant bolting through him, a wild sweet thing, a different consciousness racing through him and asking him will you? will you? hello my name is I am would you be willing to-
"Ah!" said Shaw, sounding truly displeased for the first time that evening. "No cheating."
"Yes, one of your subs is a telepath, I should have remembered."
Erik bent his head, catching his breath. The presence had withdrawn as quickly as it had come, but- oh.
"Are you willing?" said Shaw, an edge of excitement to his voice. Risk taker. Shaw was a risk taker at heart. And he believed in Erik, had beaten obedience into him. Erik didn't dare come. He didn't dare. He squeezed himself against it, thought of blood and anger and shame and everything wilted. Then he was as about as hard as a soggy newspaper.
"Ugh," he heard Emma, some distance away, walloped by his fear. She moved away, he felt her move away, and Charles gripped his ankle hard. That didn't help at all this time. He wanted to get away from Charles. Charles was now dangerous. The transition hurt.
"You realize I'm betting my life, essentially."
"Mm? Hardly. I should think-"
"Yes, why not?" said Charles, and his quiet, musing voice turned Shaw into silence, sliced it and wrenched it open, dragged something into the open. Inside the silence was a tension so deep that Erik's bones quivered with it. There was absolute silence, no one was bothering not to stare. "One must, at a point in one's life, do dangerous things or risk regret."
"Delightful," said Shaw, sounding a little surprised. He recovered quickly. "Erik, turn around."
Erik did, trying to stay off his sore ass. Shaw looked a little ruffled, but dangerously excited. If he'd been alone with Erik, Erik would have gone down on his knees at once. This mood had fangs. This was when Shaw paced the room and whipped him and bounced ideas off his bloodied body, wild with enthusiasm over something that he had to take it out somehow. In contrast Charles, next to him, looked like calm personified. But his eyes were blazing.
"You can say anything to him," said Shaw to Charles, "and he shall obey to the best of his abilities. But of course my command will override yours. And my command, Erik," now speaking to him, "is that you shan't come for an hour. Are you amenable to one hour, Charles?"
"One hour- So we shall rip him apart, is that it?" Charles was still trying to meet his eyes, but Erik didn't feel up to it. "Yes. So be it, then."
"Mm." Shaw sounded pleased.
"Would you like to move to a private location?" It took Erik a while to realize Charles was speaking to him.
He cast a look at Shaw.
"What you want, please," said Charles.
"He doesn't want anything," said Shaw, sounding a little bewildered. "I want him to stay here. We shall conduct our game here."
"It is a personal tendency of mine to conduct my sexual affairs in isolation," said Charles. "Apparently you feel differently. So it is up to Erik."
"It's hardly a sexual affair," said Shaw. "It's a commercial one. Well. Isolation, eh? That would explain a few things."
"Erik?"
Erik's eyes flickered to the room outside the cage. The eyes. He shivered and looked down at once. "Here. I like it here, master."
"Yes?" Shaw said pointedly. He sounded like he'd won already. And it was Erik's job to prove him right. Dread pooled in his gut.
"Perhaps I should phrase it differently, Sebastian," said Charles, bland and polite. It was like hitting a brick wall. "I wish to conduct this affair in private."
The silence grew deeper.
"Azazel," said Sebastian Shaw, skimming over it with a whisper like the blade of an ice skate. "If you would please."
He knew how this went. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were in one of the antechambers. All the doors were closed. Azazel bowed and left them.
"I shall watch," said Shaw, and set his clock. "One hour."
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Erik did. He didn't grow hard. He couldn't. Shaw was watching him.
Charles, at that very moment, starting pacing around the cage. Erik kept his movements steady, not trembling, feeling the two other men in the room watch him, their gazes burning. Then Charles stopped at the precise spot where he could block Shaw from view. "You can grow hard."
Erik looked at him desperately. He couldn't. It would be-
"Come here," said Charles, and Erik had to get up, onto his knees, shuffle forward on them. He pressed himself against the bars, holding them, steadying himself.
Then Charles caught his cock in his hand. Shaw, on the couch, visible from this vantage point, narrowed his eyes. "I'm allowed to do this, surely?" Charles said smoothly.
"Of course," said Shaw, and then gave Erik a look like a poisoned needle. Erik clenched his eyes shut. Charles' palm was warm and soft and coaxing. And despite everything, he was, he couldn't-
"Ah!" he cried out as something completely unexpected happened, and he had to open his eyes. Charles had bent to his knees, graceful and compact even there, as Erik never could be, and was- "you can't," he sobbed, wretched, because Charles' mouth was gentle and wet and welcoming, drawing him in, bracing his hips through the bars, "please don't- you can't-"
"Mm?" Charles said, pulling off in a slow, wet, tight suck that made Erik scrabble at the bars. Then he was back, tongue flicking at his head. Doms weren't supposed to do this. Erik made a hysterical sound and drew back, to the other side of the cage, falling down so that their faces were level- Charles on his knees, lips red and face indecipherable, and Erik curled into himself, aroused and horrified.
Shaw's face was a mask of hatred. Charles seemed to disregard this, and he blinked at Erik. "Did you not like that?"
"I didn't," Erik said helplessly. Shaw hadn't. Shaw hadn't liked that at all. "You mustn't."
"Would you like to suck me off, then?" Charles asked.
Shaw didn't have an opinion on that. Erik checked. Shaw didn't care about that. Shaw himself was hard now, stroking himself lazily, eyes glittering dark and wet. "Yes," he whispered, and the corners of Charles' lips curled up. He didn't look happy, though.
"Well, then," he said, standing up and undoing the zipper of his jeans. "Would you?"
Erik was already there. Charles reached in through the bars and guided him, fingers light on his hair. Erik liked Charles' cock. It was hard to say why. A cock was a cock, and he'd seen a lot of them, but Charles' fit into his mouth and tasted clean over the deeper scent. Erik closed himself off to the deeper scent. It troubled him that he- but no. He tried not to breath and he started to suck him off in earnest.
"Oh," said Charles, rocking into him, not hard. "Erik." And then there was a tingle of suppressed arousal that wasn't his. Charles wasn't cheating, just leaking. Emma was probably checking, from the other room, anyway. "Erik."
He didn't talk like Shaw did, a low bitten stream of slut cocksucker prettymouth. He was mostly silent, his fingers curling around the back of his neck, and Erik found himself grateful. He found a rhythm there, closing his eyes against the world, and found himself distantly confused about how Charles was handling this. He had a career to think of. Why was he doing this- what for?
But none of it made any sense, and when Charles said, distinctly, "I'm going to come, please pull off," he did and lifted his face so Charles could come on it. But Charles was coming into his palm, his eyes open and burning, face tight. Staring right at him.
Erik felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to cover himself.
"Thank you," said Charles.
"Tick tock," said Shaw. He was jerking himself off slowly. "I hope there's more than this, Charles."
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"Yes."
"Do you still want me to touch it?"
Shaw- Erik's mind flickered through responses- no yes please maybe no no. "...Yes."
"Whatever position you like, then."
He considered it. Consideration was odd. He reached for it with unformed limbs. He at last opted to lie on his side, pressing himself through the bars, his thighs horizontal lines. He propped himself up on his elbow to look outside.
Charles hummed a little, crouching down again. He was drawing two fingers into his mouth, and Erik's own went dry, thinking of Charles mouthing at his cock, sucking- no. He wasn't close yet, nowhere near, but this was- dangerous. He willed himself to-
He moaned deeply as Charles pushed in with one hand and reached for his cock with the other. "One leg up," he heard, and obliged, spreading himself out for Charles. He heard Shaw in the distance, breathing getting harsher, uglier, but Charles looked quite serene as he took Erik into his hand. "How much would you mind," Charles said, very quietly, too quietly for Shaw to hear, "if I made you come again tonight- took you home- to my home, two states away- and washed you and fed you and put you to sleep-"
He didn't understand. He let his elbow slip and stopped looking at anything except for the smudged shadows the bars cast on the floor of the cage. He wanted Charles to stop.
Charles' fingers brushed against his prostate.
Erik's breathing grew ragged. This was the hard part. His ass hurt but he was being jerked off and Charles was buried in him, touching him where it felt good, despite everything. And Charles wouldn't stop. He had a long hour in front of him. He bent his head and started to shake with it. Charles was going to ruin his own career. He didn't even know Charles.
Then Charles did something unexpected- he slipped his fingers out of Erik, out of wet and yielding flesh, and moved. Erik didn't know what was happening until he felt-
"Oh!" he said, almost violent with surprise, jerking all over. This was worse than Charles sucking him off, because Charles mouth was on his hole, Charles was licking at the loose flesh there. No one had ever- for him- he had, of course, but- "You can't, sir, I'm not clean, you can't do that-"
"Hush," said Charles, and breathed on him. Erik quivered violently and tried to think of Shaw's broad anger. It was already there, filling the room, provoked by Charles' display of- or perhaps Erik himself- but it didn't work, because Charles had rolled his tongue and was slipping in, wet and alive against his inner walls. Erik found himself spreading his legs, mind quite blank. "I really should feed you when I get you home," Charles said, casually running his free hand over Erik's ribs. He felt like he'd been punched, at those words.
"But you won't be coming tonight, won't you, Erik?" Shaw sounded threatening, if not alarmed. But the threat meant alarm. Erik trembled with it. If Shaw wasn't sure- how could he be- and Charles was kissing him there, where he wasn't supposed to be touched with a mouth, a dominant's mouth, lips gentle where he was sore- everything was melding together in a large splash of panic. "I ordered you."
"He will," said Charles into his perineum, sending warm vibrations everywhere, and this was different. Erik squirmed. "He will, if he wants to."
"But he doesn't."
"Perhaps he does," Charles said, and said: "I'm going to suck you off again, Erik. Come here."
And Erik couldn't disobey, could he- he was supposed to obey- and Shaw's eyes were wide and hateful on both of them as Charles kneeled again, and Erik found that he didn't mind half as much, this time, his cock shoved out between the bars, something obscene and awkward and-
"You're beautiful," said Charles, kissing the jut of his pelvis where he could reach it, hands on his belly.
Never deanoning for this, I swear.
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And Erik discovered something he had not expected at all, even when Charles had given him a taste of what it felt like- Charles was good. He tongued at Erik's slit and swallowed him up nearly to the root, bending his head so that Erik could get past the back of Charles' throat, just for a moment. He found the sensitive spot under his cockhead in five seconds and laved it, he pulled off and licked at his balls. Erik clutched at the bars, body heavy with the need to come, and saw Shaw tapping his watching and gesturing furiously at him. Erik only made a drugged sound that made Shaw breathe poison into the air.
Erik was supposed to stop, but he didn't know how, especially when Charles drew off and trailed the head of Erik's dick around his mouth and jaw, making his own skin glisten obscenely. Erik couldn't look away, utterly helpless. Charles slid it even below, so it was pressed against the underside of the jaw. Erik's hypersensitive flesh caught against stubble and his breath hitched.
"I thought you'd like that," said Charles, candid and smiling. "Don't stop looking at me, please."
That was the moment Shaw lost.
"Oh," Erik moaned out, teetering at the edge, (when did I get here) unable to properly remember why he hadn't been supposed to- "please," no longer knowing what he was supposed to be begging for-"
Charles smiled, and it felt like it was the first smile Erik had ever seen in his life. "Come on me. Come for me."
He dragged a tongue across Erik's slit, broad and deliberate, and Erik clung to the bars as his body wrenched forward, stretching out, knees loosening. He was coming on a wet mouth and a soft warm tongue and a long length of throat.
He thought to open his eyes some time later. It must not have been long, because Charles was still kneeling in front of him, cum everywhere, even on his lashes. The smile was still there, in his eyes, but the rest of his face was serious. He took out his handkerchief again and used the clean side to wipe himself off. Then he turned around.
"Sebastian," he said, and that was it.
Shaw looked enraged. He crackled with it. The gaze he turned on Erik was murderous, tinged with disbelief. Erik suddenly fell to the floor, gripped with the reality of what he'd just done.
"You couldn't wait a few minutes," said Shaw, sounding almost calm.
"Master," Erik whispered, feeling so wrecked inside he couldn't move or breathe.
"Oh no," said Charles pleasantly. "Hardly. Mr. Shaw, if you would be so kind to open this door and- I think get that collar off him."
Shaw did not move. His eyes bored into Charles. And Erik just saw Charles' face suddenly shift into something quite different as he met them.
Shaw blinked first. "Emma. Azazel must retrieve the key."
Erik couldn't understand, really. The words were in his mind, I am Charles' now, but it didn't register. How, what, he kept thinking, watching Azazel open his door. A different key for his collar- Shaw told him where, and Azazel came back with it.
It happened so fast.
"I suppose I should be taking my leave now," said Charles, affable. There was no trace of relief on his face. Shaw might have backhanded him otherwise. "Mr. Shaw. It was a delight to meet you."
Shaw's face twitched. "Same."
"I suppose you wouldn't have any spare clothes before we leave."
"None." Even Erik heard the following words: now get out of my sight.
"Mm. Very well, then. Good bye, Sebastian."
Then Charles was steering Erik out of the room by the elbow, and Erik, naked, stumbled on. They met no one in the corridor. It was a distant relief only- Erik was used to being-
"Oh," said Charles, sounding a little angry, and Erik froze with fear. "I'm sorry, I- damn. Never mind. I have a jacket in my jet."
A jet?
"It's a recent acquisition. Quite small."
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Erik stared at his feet.
"I have a jacket here somewhere," said Charles, and found one. "It might be small for you."
It was, but Erik donned it all the same, feeling even more ridiculous. His cock and ass, still slick with- a lot of things, hung under the hem. He would rather go naked.
"Would you?" Charles asked. "Then you're welcome to."
He'd never met a telepathic dominant before. He shivered and took off the jacket again.
"I'll stay out if you want me to."
"It's fine, sir."
"It's Charles."
It helped that Erik already thought of him as Charles. But Charles could punish him like Shaw never could have, because even Emma filtered her words. Charles would instantly know anything Erik did wrong. Even in his head. He tried not to think of anything at all.
"Oh, hush," said Charles. "I have a blanket here somewhere instead. Would you prefer that?"
Dreadfully. "Yes."
Charles came back with two, and a washcloth that he used to wipe off the worst of the cum and spit off Erik. Charles' touch was gentle but firm, but he still ached everywhere, and couldn't stifle the hoarse moan that escaped him.
"Done," said Charles, withdrawing. He wrapped the blankets around Erik, securing them, and told him to sit down. "Next to me will do. Don't touch any of the controls."
It was when the jet took off that Erik realized, watching the city lights spiral away from them, that he was untethered, that his neck was bare, and that he was sitting next to a new owner. It had been years since he'd been Shaw's. He practically couldn't remember when he hadn't been. He started to shudder, for no reason he could articulate, except that everything had changed. Everything.
The jet jittered.
"Control yourself," said Charles.
"Shaw tried to teach me," said Erik, and then started to shake. It's over it's not real I'm not there I'm here I'm flying away I'm Charles' my collar's gone I'm in the sky I'm here with Charles I can't do this where am I where is he where what how
"Why teach control?" Charles' voice was cool and cutting. "You find it yourself. Go on."
"I'm going to crash the plane," Erik said, shaking, "you have to, you have to-"
"I'm not dropping you off, don't be ridiculous," Charles said, skimming his mind casually. "Go on. Panic. When the jet falls apart you can steer it home with your mind anyway."
"No," Erik said, driven to panic at the very idea of it, "I can't, please don't make me-"
"All right," Charles said peacably, even though the engine was making dangerous little noises. "I won't."
"Calm me down, please calm me down-"
Then it was all quiet in his mind. He stared at out the flat black sky and felt felt equally flat and black. In a good way. He risked a sideways glance at Charles.
"You just had to ask," said Charles.
He was kind enough to pretend he didn't notice Erik silently weep, head turned away from Charles.
The flight was swift. Charles landed the jet cleanly on a roof of a large building, where several similar engines, widely spaced, were already placed. "Are they all yours?" Erik ventured, having wiped his eyes.
"My neighbors." Charles smiled. "The building isn't mine. I'm afraid you might find my home a little cramped, actually."
Erik didn't. Shaw's living quarters had been large; his hadn't been. Charles' apartment had only four rooms excluding the bathroom, but all of them were spacious. Perhaps it was the lighting that made it so. "The guest room- which doubles as a library- is yours now," Charles said, "unless you want to sleep with me."
He hesitated.
"Take a shower before we talk about that," said Charles. "You must feel like one."
Erik did, desperately, and clambered into an unfamiliar bathtub, shedding the blankets from the jet. He was lucky they'd met no one in the elevator. But he hadn't been afraid, anyway. Charles' hand had been on his elbow.
The water was warm and he was tired. He was nearly swaying when he came out to the sight of Charles sipping hot cocoa on the couch.
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"Bathrobe behind you," said Charles, and Erik turned to see that there was. He donned it and padded up to Charles, and then knelt at his feet. Charles touched his head. "How do you feel?"
"Numb," said Erik, after hunting for a word.
"How do you feel about me?"
"Good, sir."
Charles' lips quirked at that, but he didn't chastise him. "Do you feel uncomfortable with me calling you Charles?"
He felt strongly about this, and there was no point in hiding it. "Yes sir."
"You can call me that. Do you know who I am?"
"Charles Xavier. You're a geneticist." Or perhaps the right answer had been my new master; panic bloomed in him-
"That's right." Charles' hand tightened in his hair a fraction. "Perhaps we should cover what I will and will not punish you for. That seems easier."
He was dog-tired, and Charles could probably feel it, but this was important. He felt himself straighten.
"I will not punish you for giving a wrong answer," Charles said, "especially to an open ended question. You are allowed to speak your mind when you are with me. In public, you are to remain silent unless prompted by me. You may call me Charles or sir, but not master. If you are unwilling to obey me for some reason at any given time, you will explain why. I will not punish you for being unable to carry out a task, but I will if you give a patently bad reason for it."
Erik took this all in.
"Those are the basics," said Charles. "As for safewords-"
He halted, staring at Erik. Erik lay his chin against Charles' thigh. Safewords. He'd heard of them. It had seemed all too ludicrous to him. A dominant? Stopped by a submissive?
"I'm not going to fuck you for a while," said Charles, "so we needn't talk about that yet. Can you breathe through your nose now?"
The non sequitur caught him off balance, but he realized that his breathing had grown a little ragged, and he was making small wheezing sounds.
"Yes," said Erik, and tipped his head into Charles' hand. Charles recognized the gesture and started stroking. He relaxed into it. "Sir. How will I be punished?"
Charles gave a funny smile. "Oh. If I don't tell you now, will you test me to find out?"
That was a difficult question. But not today. Not tomorrow. Right now he just wanted, desperately, to behave. He knew Charles was reading this. "No sir."
"I have nothing concrete in mind," said Charles, tracing the shell of Erik's ear. "Just a few ideas. But you can behave."
Erik could. He ached to prove it.
"I'm going to collar you now," Charles said, softly, and Erik let out a soft breathless noise of relief. "Unless you'd rather wait."
"Now. Please."
Charles stroked his thumb along Erik's neck, making him gasp shamelessly. "Was the metal collar Shaw's idea?"
"Yes." He still didn't know what Shaw had meant by that.
"It had his name on it."
"Yes."
"Hopelessly gauche of him." Charles other hand came back, tracing something around his neck. It felt so unreal. So unlike his first collaring. "Oh yes. Those spectacles. But isn't this neater?"
Something latched quietly shut at the back of his throat. Erik inhaled. "Is that all?"
"Neater," said Charles. "Touch it."
Erik did. It was a slender twist of leather with a clasp at the back- a silver alloy, he could feel it. "Is this all?" he repeated. He remembered his first collaring. He'd been twelve. He'd tried to run so hard. They'd said that this was how it always went. So he'd run, but they'd caught him. Shaw had caught him. Erik had been barefoot. Shaw had called out, joyous, latching something to his throat, and the others had crowded over, laughing with disappointment and anticipation.
"Erik."
The room was warm and wide and Charles was tugging at his collar, very gently. The leather was warm, too.
"I didn't know there was any other way it could go," Erik whispered. Shaw had been his first. There, with his knees digging into the wet soggy leaves, the other challengers crowded around them, eyes hungry. The new metal heavy against his throat.
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"You fool," said Charles, and it sounded completely different from when anyone else said it to him, because he was kissing Erik on the hair, hands pressing at his throat, and it was the best thing Erik had ever felt in his life. Then he got up, stiff and contained as a hunting cat, pacing the room. Erik wondered if he'd disturbed Charles. "No," Charles said absently, continuing to pace. Erik watched him, feeling sleepy. Odd. He'd normally be on high alert, watching his dominant with wary eyes. "You can sit on the couch, Erik."
Erik did, back straight and hands on his knees.
"You can relax if you like."
"Can I sleep here?"
Charles looked surprised. "Would you want to?"
Erik didn't know.
"You can if you like."
Erik wanted to ask, now? but didn't. Charles answered it anyway, looking distracted and exhausted. "Now if you like. It's very late."
But Erik had to ask. Because Charles wasn't Shaw. "What's wrong?"
"Much less, now you're here," said Charles absently, and Erik wondered if even Charles could untangle the way those words made him feel. "But-"
Erik waited. Charles stopped his movements.
"You're mine now," said Charles, bracing himself against the coffee table, looking oddly haunted. "Do you know what that means?"
The question sounded perhaps a little desperate.
Erik swallowed and shook his head. He was ready for anything, he thought. He could take anything.
But then Charles said- "It means that I'm yours as well," like a silent thunderclap, and came up to him, movements slow and deliberate. He kneeled in front of Erik, touching his thigh lightly. "Heaven help us."
Erik breathed, "would you kiss me?"
Charles looked at him, and in the next moment was pressing gently against his body, not anywhere it hurt, but draping himself over the right corners, lips gently brushing against his own. He tasted like champagne and hot chocolate.
Please don't let go, Erik thought, reaching out blindly, and was astonished to hear something respond, a susurrus of I'm here. Charles wrapped himself around Erik and dragged him down so that he was under Erik, and Erik's face was on his shoulder.
Erik thought, tentatively, he's mine, testing out the sentence, and then had to tuck it away. But it was like putting a sheet over a piano. It was there. You could see the outlines of it, and the legs under the edges of the cloth. Someday he might learn to play it.
"Do you believe me?" Charles, low and fierce. "When I say so?" He guided Erik's hand to his own bare throat. The pulse fluttered there, deep and steady. Erik breathed shallowly against Charles' skin.
I will not punish you for giving a wrong answer
"No."
Charles laughed, but it wasn't bitter this time. Erik liked that laugh, and tried to tell Charles with his mind. Charles curled an arm around him, and feeling he'd had at the beginning of their meeting- the rush of foreign emotions through his veins- except that there was something new and strange and bright-strange and pretty-edged this time, tentatively blooming.
"Oh," said Erik softly. "I don't know what that is."
And Charles, with such certainty in his voice that Erik found himself swept up in it as well, said: "You'll learn."
What is my life, when did I become this person? I'm like a superhero, except that my alter ego is a shameless porn writer. Clark Kent never had to deal with this shit. (buries face)
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Ahem.
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thank you X3
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