(Untitled)

[butwedonot]

The morning had dragged on a bit to long for Charles' taste, there always seemed to be something that needed to be done. The air had been heavy throughout the house, be it the forboding shadow cast over the Westchester mannor or the tension that arose from many hard and not exactly fruitful trainning sessions throughout the day. It seemed that

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[butwedonot]

[ He doesn't realize that he had stopped breathing till he can feel Erik's breath against his cheek when the man leans over his shoulder. They're not impossibly close, but enough so that he can feel the wisps of it against his flesh. It isn't unpleasant, he notes, however much he thought that sort of thing probably should be. He follows Erik's finger, at first, his own hand easily sliding out of the way and down to the underside of the book to help keep it angled toward him and thus easier to read. But as the words begin to flow out his attention on the written form is lost, blues drifting toward the other man instead, watching the way his mouth moved around the words, the proper enunciation for each interesting but not so much as just listening to them. Listening to him.

It was in the following silence that he partially wished he could fall back on that pushy charm, say something witty or lascivious to change the mood he'd practically set. He can't, though, not now-- because he doesn't want to be that person, at least not with Erik. This was different, a deeper rooted connection, something more honest than he's had before. Not necessarily easier, but more comfortable. He can feel a warmth in his face, not so much shying away from the words now-- no, Erik had read too, hadn't protested or left-- but more just enthralled with the man and his voice. A bit petty, perhaps, to be attracted to such a thing; but Charles was far from perfect.

Turning his head he works off of reflex alone, the moment's hesitation gone, and his own figure pressing forward to close the gap-- if only slightly. A brush of his lips, a unmistakable token of affection. The hand that had been clutched to the spine of the book lifting in favor of curling itself around the back of Erik's neck-- all of this, of course, provided the man didn't see fit to pull away. ]