A Pox On Your House

[staticsnap]

Characters: Shark!Erik, Pilot Fish!Ben
Date&Time: December 25th, evening
Setting: Ben's absconded den  Erik's room 
Summary: Gesunteit; see also: alternatives to chicken soup.
Rating: Rish?
Status: Open to Cooler!Erik.

Comments

[staticsnap]

Damn Erik. Damn him to hell. Did he have to be so infuriatingly deft all the time? Ben had scarcely had a the span of a few seconds to enjoy his seat of power before he was unceremoniously upended out of it, head snapping to the side as his jaw absorbed the impact from Erik's hand. The room tilted violently and Ben grunted as his back hit the floor with enough flat force to drive the air from his poor, aching lungs.

Held fast by the sharp pinion of Erik's knees and grip, Ben could do little but pant and try and struggle for a bit of leverage. His cheeks were coloured with an angry red shade of exertion, sweat lining his brow and upper lip as he shuddered and bucked and generally strained against the diabolical capture that was doing everything except giving him the simple back rub that he'd been after.

And then Erik bit him again, as if once wasn't enough. Ben hissed, his shoulders coming up off the floor as his back arched in response. Did having a fever make one's skin more sensitive? It must do, for there were actual tears stinging at the corners of Ben's eyes and a choked whimper scraped at the back of his throat despite his having incurred injuries that made this seem like a stubbed toe.

"Jackass," Ben gasped, thumping his head against the floor. A wheezing cough burst from his chest like a shotgun, wet and rattling. "Why can't you just... rub my fucking back?"

[rageserenity]

"You want your back rubbed, is that it?!"

Erik snarled out, that whimpering sweet response to his rather too vicious biting doing more to encourage him than not.

Hands rough on Ben's shoulders, he twisted him around, flipping him over and tossing him to and fro like a sack of potatoes. He kept the boy pressed down, now face first against the floor, and dug his hands in with brutal force against Ben's back, giving him probably the deepest of all deep tissue massages ever imagined.

And of course, Erik being Erik, he never passed up the perfect opportunity to grind himself against that peachy firm arse, even if Ben was coughing and spluttering all over his goddamned floor.

There was nothing quite like a tussle or a fight to get Erik at least half hard, and he made no bones about demonstrating just how much he liked having Ben face first on the rug, even as his thumbs dug in with excessive depth into the boy's scapula.

[staticsnap]

This was what dough felt like when it was being pummeled by a baker's fists in anticipation of being fired in an oven. The pain was staggering and as the dazed rattling that came from being whipped about like a rag doll gave way to the blunt pierce of Erik's hands digging into his tense muscles like they were trying to tear them apart, Ben howled. He jerked spasmodically, eyes wide with horror as he clawed at the carpet and tried to work his way out from under Erik. The escape attempt did nothing but angle his backside more firmly against the older man's groin, which was followed by an inadvertent thrust as Erik's knuckles drove into a particularly sensitive knot to the left of his spine, right where his lower back hollowed.

Ragged, spittle-soaked goggling noises were limping from Ben's lips as he shook his head against the carpet, the burn of the weave scraping across his cheek and promising to leave a mark. "Are you fucking deaf?" Ben wheezed, swearing as his shoulder was lanced through so fiercely that he felt the ache spread all the way down his arm and to his flailing fingertips. "Rub, I said, not pulverize! Get off of-ah! me, you twisted psychopath!" His hips jerked up again and Ben reached back awkwardly and began to smack the side of Erik's leg, chin banging against the floor as the excruciating symphony on his back continued to play on. "If you think you're getting laid for this bullshit, you're fucking wrong," the fuming, sweat-drenched mutant choked out, eyes rolling back with a sharp, shuddering keen as Erik's fingers attacked the tender muscle that ran along the tops of his shoulders. "Jesus cuntlicking Christ, stop!"

[rageserenity]

If there was one thing Erik was extremely good at, it was stopping when he was asked to.

Of course this never actually extended to enemies, opponents, or people he generally disliked - in those sorts of situations, Erik never stopped, not even a little, and in fact only used the word 'stop' as wonderful justification to continue in an amplified fashion any painful dreadful attentions he was dishing out.

But when someone he cared for told him to stop, and meant it, as Ben quite clearly seemed to, Erik complied.

He went as still as solid marble for a moment, everything on his part suddenly as silent as the grave, before he was leaning down to press a kiss to Ben's bloodied bite mark. "You can stay here for the night. I'll be elsewhere."

He flung the window shut with a thought, not wanting it to get too too cold, and began climbing off Ben.

[staticsnap]

The concession was far more generous than he deserved (Ben certainly wouldn`t have surrendered his bedroom to an infected asshole, let alone one who`d seen fit to attack him) and he was pinned by the startlement of it, breathing heavily as the agony on his back ceased and was replaced by Erik being almost gentle. Ben made a soft noise of acceptance into the carpet and snuffled a bit, swallowing thickly as Erik`s lips landed on his neck affectionately.

Only when Erik made to get up did Ben realize what exactly that generosity entailed and he shook his head, realization dawning in a bitter rush. He rolled over quickly, reaching up to fist his hands in Erik`s shirt and yank him forcefully back down.

"I meant stop bludgeoning me," the boy whinged faintly. "Not stop stop."

The last thing he wanted was for Erik to leave. Why was this so complicated? It was so very clear to Ben: he wanted to die, or if that wasn`t a possibility then he wanted to be miserable in the vicinity of Erik, preferably an Erik who was catering to his every whim (i.e rubbing his back, hold the spinal damage, please.) Fatigue lining his face, Ben peered up at Erik with a pathetic expression that would have been funny if it hadn`t been so genuine. "That party`s stupid. It`s way more fun up here."

[rageserenity]

"Believe it or not, it really isn't. You're far from your usual engaging self.

Get some rest, Ben, i'll check on you in the morning."

Erik's fingers brushed softly over the burn of the rug against the boy's cheek, tutting softly as such pale skin looked so roughened and angry red.

But really if anyone had deserved that, it was Ben, for being such a damnably aggravating little menace, and for doing his damndest to infect Erik with whatever he'd managed to pick up.

Well, he was infected enough already by Ben's germs, so he might as well let himself get even more unhygenically attacked by spores of whatever it was inside the boy.

He leaned in for a soft kiss to the lips, but only a momentary one, hauling Ben up with him to his feet and hoisting the boy's limp form up into his arms, carrying him back to bed.

Even Erik could have mercy from time to time.

[staticsnap]

God, the humiliation of being carried like some whelp would have been enough to choke Ben if it hadn't also been simultaneously the most comfortable thing he'd experienced in the last few hours. His face burrowed against the lee of Erik's neck and Ben grumbled unintelligibly as they crossed the room, a token disgruntlement that didn't have any heart in it. That in and of itself was telling of just how poorly he felt, for Westwood was nothing if not eager to toss out a caustic bit of flippancy whenever the occasion arose (and sometimes when it didn't.)

He kept a firm grip on Erik's shirt, though. Ben knew how slippery the man could be. If he wasn't careful, Erik would set him down and then try and walk away like some sort of crafty ninja.

"What's it gonna fucking take?" Ben moaned, heartsick, as he felt the mattress settle against his back. He opened his eyes and fixed Erik with a pleading, desperate look. He sniffled. He batted his eyelashes. He - oh, shit, sneeze attack. Ben gurgled and peeled his shirt off, using it to wipe his face of the epic quantities of refuse that he'd just torpedoed out of his nose before he cast it aside and tugged on the hem of Erik's turtleneck. "It's not that bad, Erik, I swear," Ben insisted mulishly. "Why wait 'til morning when we've got right now? Don't be a pussy."

[rageserenity]

Erik fixed the boy with a particularly stern look. "Language." And that was the kind of foul language Erik could do without hearing, and especially being called.

"Ben, if you have even an ounce of dignity or self-respect, you'll accept my generosity and leave it be. Is it not enough that i've given you my bedroom?" Amongst other things, including his respect, his adoration, his exclusive sexual attention, a home, a life, a future... the list was truly completely endless.

Erik prised the boy's fingers from his turtleneck, his grip iron firm as he removed Ben from his person.

"Now, go to sleep before I knock you unconscious."

[staticsnap]

"If I had an ounce of dignity or self-respect, I wouldn't have let you fuck me the weekend we met," Ben snapped, raising a triumphant fist. "Ha!"

Take that, metal-playing soulcrusher. There was nothing quite so frustrating as Erik when he was in a contrary mood. It was like he made a conscious decision to ruin Ben's life by being unnecessarily unreasonable and cruel, a decision which Ben didn't appreciate even when he wasn't struggling to keep his lungs from becoming bacteria-ridden tidepools.

For the sake of continuity, Ben slithered clumsily out of his cotton lounge pants. The heat was rising again, what with the window closed and his frustration growing ever more virulent with every passing moment that seemed to be leading to Erik callously abandoning him.

"You're being goddamn paranoid," Ben accused, mildly fascinated by the crackling quality of his breaths. He had musical lungs, how very festive. He'd have to explore their range later. With concrete persistence, Ben wrapped his hand around Erik's wrist, the one whose hand was wrapped around Ben's other hand. "And it's too early to sleep. What's your fucking rush to leave? I'm not going to come downstairs and find you fucking Santa Claus, am I?"

[rageserenity]

It was a mark of just how delious from illness Ben truly was, in fact, that he'd disregard Erik's direct orders, that he'd dare to infer that letting Erik fuck him - there'd been no 'letting' about it, letting implied choice in the matter or other options to choose - had been without dignity or self-respect, which was patently untrue.

And that he seemed to have forgotten the date entirely.

"It's the 25th, you foolish boy, I fucked Santa Claus when he stopped by last night."

The fact that Ben was now naked made absolutely no different to Erik's resolve. He hardly found rattling breathes and coughing up muccus arousing.

"What's going to happen is, i'm going to allow you use of my room just for tonight, and i'm going to bring you medicine, and you're going to stop whinging like the children you so love to loathe and do as I tell you. Understood?"

[staticsnap]

Clearly Erik was trying to be humble about this whole thing because if he really had fucked St. Nick last night, it was entirely plausible (probable, even) that the old bastard would show up again for a second helping before he carted his stalker bones back to the North Pole. It made Ben feel a little better, that small private victory of logic.

In answer to Erik, Ben remained silent. With a stormy expression, the dark-haired boy staggered beneath the ruin of blankets (they crackled with a bevy of tempestuous static) and fwumped down. He could match Erik glare for glare and outstubborn the man easily when it came to this.

`This` being, of course, Erik`s callous refusal to stay.

"How about we skip the goddamn medicine," Ben suggested, hair falling across his eyes as he angled his head on the pillow, "and you just stay? I`ll make it worth your while, Erik."

[rageserenity]

"Even if you're not ill," of course Ben was, of bloody course, but he'd humour the lad's stupidity for now to meet his own ends, "you do look it, and there are few things less erotic than a sickly pallor.

How do you expect to blow me properly if you're congested by seasonal allergies? If you don't do as you're told, you won't get better, and then you won't be allowed to suck on my cock with your usual grace and fervour at all."

Yes, best to put an idea of a horrible dystopian future into Ben's head as radical incentive to recover.

Whatever would Ben do if his favourite activity was stolen from him, hmm?

"You wanted me to waste my evening at your beck and call, so how about it, Benjamin. You either swallow medicine, or you don't get to swallow my cock."

[staticsnap]

A slow look of absolute horror crept across Ben's face until he was staring blankly at Erik, a numbness in his eyes that came from the sheer inability to comprehend how the man could stand there and issue such dire threats without being consumed by the cruelty of them. Was Erik being serious? Surely he had to understand that what he'd just said wouldn't only cripple Ben's quality of life but also make his own that much less enjoyable as well.

Ben's mouth opened soundlessly for a moment, jaw trying to form comprehensible words but failing utterly because what the hell was he supposed to say to that?! It wasn't like he could refuse, damn it, but neither was he really satisfied with the option that left him. He didn't like being pushed up against the wall (...not unless that wall was literal and the pushing precluded a vigorous fuck.)

A look somewhere between sorrowful agreement and murderous I'm-going-to-punch-you-in-the-kidneys-later irritation bloomed in Ben's expression and he gave a short, sharp nod.

"I don't see how you giving me a fucking ultimatum is being at my 'beck and call' but fine. Bring on the goddamn tonic, Prohibition John," Ben raised a finger, "and before you say it, I fucking know what Prohibition was and I'm recycling to term because you're a cockblocker of unconstitutional proportions."

[rageserenity]

"You either get an ultimatum, or you get nothing at all from me. Just be glad I feel inclined to give you the former, rather than the latter. Especially considering your fucking atrocious behaviour."

If anyone was going to get punched in the kidneys, it really wasn't Erik. Erik was the one who did the punching, which was something Ben ought to know by now.

It was no use the boy getting comfortable in his position, in beginning to take on airs and graces just because he was Magneto's Favourite. Ben still had a place amongst the ranks, and simply due to the fact Erik fucked him and let him stay in his bed didn't mean in the slightest that Ben escaped such a thing as punishments, nor that Ben was allowed to dish them out himself higher up the foodchain.

That wasn't how the Laws of Nature worked.

Those at the top - Erik, in other words - oversaw the jungle below. The jungle didn't touch him back.

Ben might have a rather sharp machete to navigate his way around, but he was still roaming upon the earthly plane.

"Now i'm going to go and fetch your medicine, and you need to think about the error of your ways. If you seem sufficiently genuinely penitent upon my return, i'll be so kind as to fuck you into unconsciousness."

And Erik was being really very generous at that. With a kiss to Ben's forehead, he slipped out quickly, not letting the boy away with any more of his tricks, and went to get medicine from the cabinet down in the kitchen.

[staticsnap]

Left to the quiet cast of the room, Ben found that his miserable sullenness made for poor company. It rose sickly to fill up the corners of the solitary space and seemed to suck the colour - normally warm and rich - out of the embellishments. Rather petulantly, Ben let it wrap around him and greedily held fast to it's ragged edges. He was allowed to be in a bad mood, damn it. That was a right afforded to everyone who felt like horseshit, never more so than when those aforementioned fecal sympathizers were in such a state during the holidays. What was the point in trying to soldier stoically through the dredges of immune dysfunction? That was for fucking martyrs and everyone knew what happened to martyrs: they burned at the stake. Goddamn idiots.

The fact that Erik wasn't pulling any punches didn't do much to restore Ben's ill temper to something resembling cordiality. It wasn't rocket science, after all. Ben simply wanted to be allowed to wallow in his misfortune and be rewarded for it with the sturdy, solid touch of the one person whom he trusted to see him in such a patently undignified manner.

The kiss, though. That had been nice.

Blinking blearily, Ben tried to see if he could still feel Erik's lips upon his forehead. Sometimes he could do that, call up the impression of past touches and live in their memory for a few moments. Alas, it appeared that even his mental storehouses weren't taking pity on him; all Ben could manage to get hold of was the sensation of being burned alive, a byproduct of his fever (or so he assumed.)

"Get it together, Westwood," Ben sighed, trying to tamp down on the dark mood squeezing his ribcage together. At the very least he could manage to be civil long enough to get Erik to fuck him, a solution that was going to be a damn sight more beneficial than whatever tonic the mutant had gone to fetch. Tonic which, for the record, he didn't even need because his immune system was made up of millions of tiny gladiators who would kick the shit out of any rogue bacteria. The only reason he was in bed in the first place had been to appease Erik. The fact that he'd skipped out on getting gloriously hammered should have been cause enough alone to win him a fast and furious trip between the sheets.

Apparently they thought differently on that matter. Ben had done far more for far less, however, and he wasn't quite so delusional as to carry on prodding at the limits of Erik's patience. He was trying, in his own Erik-like manner, to be...comforting.

And perhaps, just maybe, Ben was possibly, conceivably, being an eensy bit unreasonable.

[rageserenity]

They did say that imitation was the sincerest form of flattery...

But there was only one Erik Lehnsherr.

No matter how much Ben attempted to imitate his nature, his moods, the shifts and tumbles of his whims - there would only ever be One Erik, not even One & a Quarter. So Ben could simply stop pretending right this minute he was anything but a sick boy who needed comfort and taking care of until he was better again.

Erik would be kind to him, tender, even go so far as sweetness... but not when Ben was lashing out violently at him with rough fists and clawing hands, forcing unhygenic kisses when Erik clearly didn't want any at all, and being not only incredibly sullen, but actually rude.

Erik hated rude people.

It was for Erik to be the one in control... and wasn't this the way with all life? It was for Erik, and Ben should just settle into his own skin as Erik's lover, and let himself be loved how Erik saw fit.

Returning with the medicine, he sat himself down upon the side of the bed and forced three spoonfulls down Ben's throat. "There... that should ease the coughing." This wasn't the first time he'd played nursemaid for Ben.