tell me how it came that night
TITLE: tell me how it came that night | ao3
FANDOM: x-men: first class
PAIRING: charles xavier/erik lehnsherr
RATING: nc-17
SPOILERS: x-men: first class
WARNINGS: au; language; graphic imagery (sexual)
WORD COUNT: ~1,970
DISCLAIMER: x-men: first class belongs to marvel and matthew vaughan. all the characters belong to marvel. anything you do not recognise is mine.
SUMMARY: Erik tasted of smoke and oil, no matter when they did this, even after Erik had washed and changed and looking for all the world like an entirely respectable member of the crew in his uniform navy-and-whites. Charles always wanted to rip them off him, to completely debauch the clothes so that everyone would know precisely what Erik Lehnsherr was really like.
A/N: for papercutperfect, who requested an Erik/Charles Titanic AU. In which Charles is an Able Seaman and Erik is an engineer aboard the RMS Titanic, and sex is had.
Charles leant on the railings surrounding the crow's nest; they were a full three days out of Southampton, and the Atlantic surrounded the RMS Titanic in freezing, salt-laden air. Ireland was long-since lost to sight, and Charles' heart thudded in his chest: this was what he loved about being at sea, this sensation of being entirely apart from the rest of the world.
"Hey, Charlie!" He glanced down to see the familiar red mop of Sean's hair swarming up into the nest. "When'd you swap to lookout?" he said, grinning. Charles pushed himself off the railing and rolled his shoulders back, feeling his back click.
"Don't worry, Cassidy; I still outrank you," Charles said, mildly. Sean laughed.
"Third's looking for you," Sean said, elbowing Charles cheerfully towards the ladder and settling himself in for his shift. "Something about checking Engineering."
Engineering was always boiling, the air thick with sweat and smoke and grease; the stokers heaving shovelfuls of coal into the massive furnaces that glowed white-hot in the gloom.
"Foreman!" Charles hollered, because shouting was the only way anyone was heard in the engine rooms. The man stopped, smoke mingling with his sweat to coat his skin in a dark, glistening layer. "Third wants a progress report on the shattered piping!"
"You'll have to talk to Lehnsherr, sir!" the foreman yelled. "He's in lead on the repair job!"
"Where is he?"
The foreman pointed over the railing of the platform, down and behind him to the bowels of the engines, where Charles could just make out a small team of men silhouetted against the glow from the furnaces.
"Engineer Lehnsherr!"
Erik straightened up from where he had been bent over his tools, and turned to face Charles.
"Seaman Xavier!" he responded, teeth flashing in the firelight. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Third requires an update on the repair work!" Charles said, stepping closer so that he could hear better; being on the actual engine floor itself, the roar of the furnaces and the machinery was almost deafening. He didn't understand how the men could cope.
"The casing shattered in the heat," Erik said, "but it's almost fixed, now. The furnace should be good to refire by the end of the day."
"We need it within the hour," Charles responded, "or else we fall behind schedule."
"How can we fall behind?" Erik said. "Even with one Scotch down, we can still run at full speed!"
"Evidently the Captain doesn't want to take the risk," Charles said, and spread his hands. "Look, I'm just the messenger, Erik. I can maybe get you up to two hours, but if it isn't running by then it'll be all our heads. Just get it done, will you?"
"Aye, sir," Erik drawled, and turned back to his work.
"Where's Janos?" Charles asked, as Erik let him into his quarters.
"Out with the Russki," Erik said, flopping back onto his narrow bed, long legs spread out across the constricted space of the room. It was just three metres wide, with the two beds nailed to either wall and a narrow strip of floor between them. "They'll be playing cards with the stokers for hours."
"And Cassidy," Charles said, stepping in between Erik's outstretched legs. Erik reached up, and twisted his fingers into the fabric on Charles' hips. "He's getting worryingly good."
Erik laughed, and tugged Charles forwards so that he slid to his knees and pushed himself up on his arms, bracketing Erik's torso, to kiss him: they'd done this enough by now that it was easy to line up noses and mouths. A solid, hard press of lips before Erik was nudging Charles' mouth open with his and sliding his tongue inside, hot and probing against Charles' own. Erik tasted of smoke and oil, no matter when they did this, even after Erik had washed and changed and looking for all the world like an entirely respectable member of the crew in his uniform navy-and-whites. Charles always wanted to rip them off him, to completely debauch the clothes so that everyone would know precisely what Erik Lehnsherr was really like.
Charles sucked on Erik's tongue, and Erik groaned into his mouth; he pulled away, and placed his head on the inside of Erik's thigh. He could feel the gradual swell of Erik's erection, caught within his shorts.
"How long do you have?" Charles asked, rubbing his cheek against Erik's thigh.
"Three hours," Erik said, voice rough and dark; Charles bent lower, and kissed him through his trousers. Erik breathed out steadily through his nose, sounding steadily more gravelly as Charles mouthed at him through the cotton. "What about you?"
Charles looked up at him, smiling brightly and far too innocently for someone whose mouth was that red and spit-slick. "I've got plenty," he said. "I only finished quarter of an hour ago."
That meant that Charles must have come straight to Erik's room after clocking off; Erik groaned again at the idea that Charles didn't even go to the mess first, would rather be doing this than anything else, a point proven by the way that Charles was lapping at the steadily spreading wet spot in the front of his shorts, the tip of his tongue swirling circles over the covered head of Erik's cock.
"Fuck, Charles," Erik said, pushing his hands over the waistband of his shorts and shoving them roughly over his hips. "Get on with it, if you're going to."
"Patience," Charles said, eyes flicking up to meet Erik's and smirking at him; before licking one broad stripe up the underside of Erik's cock and sucking him into his mouth.
Erik's head thudded back against the wall, and he had to force himself not to buck up into Charles' mouth as he bobbed his head once, twice, hollowing his cheeks and testing his gag reflex. On the third, Charles opened his throat and swallowed rapidly around Erik as he sucked him down.
Panting, Erik wrapped a hand around the back of Charles' neck, scraping his nails over the base of his skull and pushing his fingers into the neat mass of dark hair. He could feel Charles' breath fluttering against his skin, puffing rapidly from his nostrils as he groaned around Erik. The vibrations caused Erik's hips to stutter, threatened the break his iron control, and he tugged at Charles' hair. This only caused Charles to moan again, and Erik had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself just fucking up into Charles' mouth.
"Off, off," he panted. "Seriously, Charles, you're going to make - I'm going to -"
Charles pulled off, with one last, mischevious suck hollowing around the head of Erik's cock and then Erik was pulling him up, grabbing him and thrusting his tongue into Charles' mouth as he forced the buttons of his trousers open. Charles moaned as Erik's hand brushed against his cock, and Erik broke the kiss to look down and see it, hard, flushed and leaking through Charles' underwear. Saliva pooled in his mouth and he wanted to taste Charles, to bend down and suck him until he came in Erik's mouth; but that wasn't the plan.
He licked his lips, and swallowed hard, and looked back at Charles to see him watching Erik; his hair was falling out of its neatly-combed position to hang, sweat-damp into his eyes, which were blown wide and dark. He was staring at Erik, rocking almost unconciously against Erik's hand. Erik swallowed again, and fisted Charles' underwear to pull it down far enough to find -
"Fuck," he breathed, his fingers dipping into the cleft of Charles' arse to find him wet and stretched.
"Why -" Charles' voice choked and stuttered as Erik circled one finger around Charles' hole. "Why do you think it took me fifteen minutes to get here?"
Erik breached him with the tip of one finger, and Charles tightened around it, tried to fuck himself back; but Erik withdrew as soon as he did, and Charles swore and bit his lip as he glared at Erik.
"It's a little hard to believe that you hate me when you look so bloody wanton," Erik said, grinning as he lined Charles up with the head of his cock and tilted his hips up to push past the sphincter before allowing Charles to sink back onto him, muscles flexing around Erik as he worked to open and accommodate him.
As soon as he was seated, Charles made to lift himself back up and fuck himself down on Erik's cock; but Erik wrapped an arm around Charles' waist and held him down.
"Patience," he said, and Charles swore at him, rocking back and forth. Erik's hips were moving, fucking him in infinitesimal thrusts that had Charles' mouth fall open and him beg for more; because of, inspite of the fact that the angle meant that the head of his cock was nudging against Charles' prostate when he moved, sending his whole body thrumming.
"Please," Charles gasped, entirely wrecked. His fingers were pushing weakly against Erik's arm, trying to force it off so that he could move, "please."
"What?" Erik asked, smirking at him. "What do you want, Charles?"
"Fuck me," Charles said. "Please. Just - fucking move, already, Erik."
"Seeing as you asked so nicely," Erik said. He moved his hands so that they were gripping Charles by the hips, raising him so that Erik could fuck up into him, setting a bruising, punishing pace that Charles matched thrust for thrust; grinding down on Erik with almost desperate abandon.
Charles dropped his hands onto Erik's stomach, bracing himself for a better angle; he slid his hands up until he could nub his nails over the tight buds of Erik's nipples, gripping and twisting them between his fingertips. Erik swore and bucked harder into Charles; he slid his hands down Charles' spine until his fingers rested against Charles' arse, until he could feel thrusting himself in and out of him.
"Fuck, Charles," he gasped. "Fuck - you're so -"
"Yeah," Charles said, reaching around to grab one of Erik's hands and wrap his fingers around Charles' cock. "Yeah."
It didn't take long for Charles to come, gasping wet and hot about Erik as he shot white streaks across Erik's chest and coating his hand; he tightened viciously around Erik, who swore at the triumphant, blissed out expression of Charles' face and fucked him harder - once, twice, three times before he was coming. Charles' eyes fluttered at the sensation of Erik's semen filling him, and he groaned a little despairingly at the sight of Erik licking his hand clean.
He slid off Erik, and collapsed bonelessly next to him.
"I got the furnace fixed," Erik said, after a moment or two.
"I gathered," Charles answered, drily. "Because Smith hasn't got my head on a stick."
Erik laughed. "We wouldn't want that," he agreed. "I'd miss your pretty mouth."
Charles prodded him, hard, in the ribs. "Bastard," he said, without heat, and stole Erik's cigarette just as he had lit it.
They smoked in companionable, sweaty silence for several long minutes.
"When do we next get to do this?" Erik asked, eventually breaking the silence.
"Monday," Charles said. "And then we get into port." He turned his head and grinned at Erik. "The whole crew's got two weeks shore leave on arrival in New York."
The RMS Titanic sank by 2:20AM on Monday the 15th of April, 1912. All of the 25 engineers aboard were lost, because both they and the electricians stayed behind to operate the pumps, keeping the ship afloat for almost an extra hour and allowing the rest of the lifeboats to launch.
Eight Able Seaman died when they went below to open the Deck E gangway, becoming trapped.
All of the lookouts survived.
FANDOM: x-men: first class
PAIRING: charles xavier/erik lehnsherr
RATING: nc-17
SPOILERS: x-men: first class
WARNINGS: au; language; graphic imagery (sexual)
WORD COUNT: ~1,970
DISCLAIMER: x-men: first class belongs to marvel and matthew vaughan. all the characters belong to marvel. anything you do not recognise is mine.
SUMMARY: Erik tasted of smoke and oil, no matter when they did this, even after Erik had washed and changed and looking for all the world like an entirely respectable member of the crew in his uniform navy-and-whites. Charles always wanted to rip them off him, to completely debauch the clothes so that everyone would know precisely what Erik Lehnsherr was really like.
A/N: for papercutperfect, who requested an Erik/Charles Titanic AU. In which Charles is an Able Seaman and Erik is an engineer aboard the RMS Titanic, and sex is had.
Charles leant on the railings surrounding the crow's nest; they were a full three days out of Southampton, and the Atlantic surrounded the RMS Titanic in freezing, salt-laden air. Ireland was long-since lost to sight, and Charles' heart thudded in his chest: this was what he loved about being at sea, this sensation of being entirely apart from the rest of the world.
"Hey, Charlie!" He glanced down to see the familiar red mop of Sean's hair swarming up into the nest. "When'd you swap to lookout?" he said, grinning. Charles pushed himself off the railing and rolled his shoulders back, feeling his back click.
"Don't worry, Cassidy; I still outrank you," Charles said, mildly. Sean laughed.
"Third's looking for you," Sean said, elbowing Charles cheerfully towards the ladder and settling himself in for his shift. "Something about checking Engineering."
Engineering was always boiling, the air thick with sweat and smoke and grease; the stokers heaving shovelfuls of coal into the massive furnaces that glowed white-hot in the gloom.
"Foreman!" Charles hollered, because shouting was the only way anyone was heard in the engine rooms. The man stopped, smoke mingling with his sweat to coat his skin in a dark, glistening layer. "Third wants a progress report on the shattered piping!"
"You'll have to talk to Lehnsherr, sir!" the foreman yelled. "He's in lead on the repair job!"
"Where is he?"
The foreman pointed over the railing of the platform, down and behind him to the bowels of the engines, where Charles could just make out a small team of men silhouetted against the glow from the furnaces.
"Engineer Lehnsherr!"
Erik straightened up from where he had been bent over his tools, and turned to face Charles.
"Seaman Xavier!" he responded, teeth flashing in the firelight. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Third requires an update on the repair work!" Charles said, stepping closer so that he could hear better; being on the actual engine floor itself, the roar of the furnaces and the machinery was almost deafening. He didn't understand how the men could cope.
"The casing shattered in the heat," Erik said, "but it's almost fixed, now. The furnace should be good to refire by the end of the day."
"We need it within the hour," Charles responded, "or else we fall behind schedule."
"How can we fall behind?" Erik said. "Even with one Scotch down, we can still run at full speed!"
"Evidently the Captain doesn't want to take the risk," Charles said, and spread his hands. "Look, I'm just the messenger, Erik. I can maybe get you up to two hours, but if it isn't running by then it'll be all our heads. Just get it done, will you?"
"Aye, sir," Erik drawled, and turned back to his work.
"Where's Janos?" Charles asked, as Erik let him into his quarters.
"Out with the Russki," Erik said, flopping back onto his narrow bed, long legs spread out across the constricted space of the room. It was just three metres wide, with the two beds nailed to either wall and a narrow strip of floor between them. "They'll be playing cards with the stokers for hours."
"And Cassidy," Charles said, stepping in between Erik's outstretched legs. Erik reached up, and twisted his fingers into the fabric on Charles' hips. "He's getting worryingly good."
Erik laughed, and tugged Charles forwards so that he slid to his knees and pushed himself up on his arms, bracketing Erik's torso, to kiss him: they'd done this enough by now that it was easy to line up noses and mouths. A solid, hard press of lips before Erik was nudging Charles' mouth open with his and sliding his tongue inside, hot and probing against Charles' own. Erik tasted of smoke and oil, no matter when they did this, even after Erik had washed and changed and looking for all the world like an entirely respectable member of the crew in his uniform navy-and-whites. Charles always wanted to rip them off him, to completely debauch the clothes so that everyone would know precisely what Erik Lehnsherr was really like.
Charles sucked on Erik's tongue, and Erik groaned into his mouth; he pulled away, and placed his head on the inside of Erik's thigh. He could feel the gradual swell of Erik's erection, caught within his shorts.
"How long do you have?" Charles asked, rubbing his cheek against Erik's thigh.
"Three hours," Erik said, voice rough and dark; Charles bent lower, and kissed him through his trousers. Erik breathed out steadily through his nose, sounding steadily more gravelly as Charles mouthed at him through the cotton. "What about you?"
Charles looked up at him, smiling brightly and far too innocently for someone whose mouth was that red and spit-slick. "I've got plenty," he said. "I only finished quarter of an hour ago."
That meant that Charles must have come straight to Erik's room after clocking off; Erik groaned again at the idea that Charles didn't even go to the mess first, would rather be doing this than anything else, a point proven by the way that Charles was lapping at the steadily spreading wet spot in the front of his shorts, the tip of his tongue swirling circles over the covered head of Erik's cock.
"Fuck, Charles," Erik said, pushing his hands over the waistband of his shorts and shoving them roughly over his hips. "Get on with it, if you're going to."
"Patience," Charles said, eyes flicking up to meet Erik's and smirking at him; before licking one broad stripe up the underside of Erik's cock and sucking him into his mouth.
Erik's head thudded back against the wall, and he had to force himself not to buck up into Charles' mouth as he bobbed his head once, twice, hollowing his cheeks and testing his gag reflex. On the third, Charles opened his throat and swallowed rapidly around Erik as he sucked him down.
Panting, Erik wrapped a hand around the back of Charles' neck, scraping his nails over the base of his skull and pushing his fingers into the neat mass of dark hair. He could feel Charles' breath fluttering against his skin, puffing rapidly from his nostrils as he groaned around Erik. The vibrations caused Erik's hips to stutter, threatened the break his iron control, and he tugged at Charles' hair. This only caused Charles to moan again, and Erik had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself just fucking up into Charles' mouth.
"Off, off," he panted. "Seriously, Charles, you're going to make - I'm going to -"
Charles pulled off, with one last, mischevious suck hollowing around the head of Erik's cock and then Erik was pulling him up, grabbing him and thrusting his tongue into Charles' mouth as he forced the buttons of his trousers open. Charles moaned as Erik's hand brushed against his cock, and Erik broke the kiss to look down and see it, hard, flushed and leaking through Charles' underwear. Saliva pooled in his mouth and he wanted to taste Charles, to bend down and suck him until he came in Erik's mouth; but that wasn't the plan.
He licked his lips, and swallowed hard, and looked back at Charles to see him watching Erik; his hair was falling out of its neatly-combed position to hang, sweat-damp into his eyes, which were blown wide and dark. He was staring at Erik, rocking almost unconciously against Erik's hand. Erik swallowed again, and fisted Charles' underwear to pull it down far enough to find -
"Fuck," he breathed, his fingers dipping into the cleft of Charles' arse to find him wet and stretched.
"Why -" Charles' voice choked and stuttered as Erik circled one finger around Charles' hole. "Why do you think it took me fifteen minutes to get here?"
Erik breached him with the tip of one finger, and Charles tightened around it, tried to fuck himself back; but Erik withdrew as soon as he did, and Charles swore and bit his lip as he glared at Erik.
"It's a little hard to believe that you hate me when you look so bloody wanton," Erik said, grinning as he lined Charles up with the head of his cock and tilted his hips up to push past the sphincter before allowing Charles to sink back onto him, muscles flexing around Erik as he worked to open and accommodate him.
As soon as he was seated, Charles made to lift himself back up and fuck himself down on Erik's cock; but Erik wrapped an arm around Charles' waist and held him down.
"Patience," he said, and Charles swore at him, rocking back and forth. Erik's hips were moving, fucking him in infinitesimal thrusts that had Charles' mouth fall open and him beg for more; because of, inspite of the fact that the angle meant that the head of his cock was nudging against Charles' prostate when he moved, sending his whole body thrumming.
"Please," Charles gasped, entirely wrecked. His fingers were pushing weakly against Erik's arm, trying to force it off so that he could move, "please."
"What?" Erik asked, smirking at him. "What do you want, Charles?"
"Fuck me," Charles said. "Please. Just - fucking move, already, Erik."
"Seeing as you asked so nicely," Erik said. He moved his hands so that they were gripping Charles by the hips, raising him so that Erik could fuck up into him, setting a bruising, punishing pace that Charles matched thrust for thrust; grinding down on Erik with almost desperate abandon.
Charles dropped his hands onto Erik's stomach, bracing himself for a better angle; he slid his hands up until he could nub his nails over the tight buds of Erik's nipples, gripping and twisting them between his fingertips. Erik swore and bucked harder into Charles; he slid his hands down Charles' spine until his fingers rested against Charles' arse, until he could feel thrusting himself in and out of him.
"Fuck, Charles," he gasped. "Fuck - you're so -"
"Yeah," Charles said, reaching around to grab one of Erik's hands and wrap his fingers around Charles' cock. "Yeah."
It didn't take long for Charles to come, gasping wet and hot about Erik as he shot white streaks across Erik's chest and coating his hand; he tightened viciously around Erik, who swore at the triumphant, blissed out expression of Charles' face and fucked him harder - once, twice, three times before he was coming. Charles' eyes fluttered at the sensation of Erik's semen filling him, and he groaned a little despairingly at the sight of Erik licking his hand clean.
He slid off Erik, and collapsed bonelessly next to him.
"I got the furnace fixed," Erik said, after a moment or two.
"I gathered," Charles answered, drily. "Because Smith hasn't got my head on a stick."
Erik laughed. "We wouldn't want that," he agreed. "I'd miss your pretty mouth."
Charles prodded him, hard, in the ribs. "Bastard," he said, without heat, and stole Erik's cigarette just as he had lit it.
They smoked in companionable, sweaty silence for several long minutes.
"When do we next get to do this?" Erik asked, eventually breaking the silence.
"Monday," Charles said. "And then we get into port." He turned his head and grinned at Erik. "The whole crew's got two weeks shore leave on arrival in New York."
The RMS Titanic sank by 2:20AM on Monday the 15th of April, 1912. All of the 25 engineers aboard were lost, because both they and the electricians stayed behind to operate the pumps, keeping the ship afloat for almost an extra hour and allowing the rest of the lifeboats to launch.
Eight Able Seaman died when they went below to open the Deck E gangway, becoming trapped.
All of the lookouts survived.