Your Thoughts To My Thoughts [X-Men: First Class - Erik/Charles]
Title: Your Thoughts To My Thoughts
Summary: Charles' concentration is severely broken.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Words & Warnings: ~1300 / Slight mis-use of telepathy.
Disclaimer: X-Men and all associated = the property of Marvel and Fox.
Notes: Sequel to My Thoughts To Your Thoughts. The reverse PoV.
Also at AO3.
“My end goal is to enable Alex to control his ability and refine it into something much more like a beam than a ring,” Hank said, tapping his diagrams.
“That’s marvellous, Hank,” Charles said, clapping him on the shoulder. “And will hopefully save me a substantial amount of money in mannequins.”
“Yeah,” Hank ducked his head, blushing the way he always did when praised.
Charles was about to ask Hank about specifics when a ghost of thought brushed against his mind. He shook his head briefly. - seeing this? Almost like Erik’s voice but so much more relaxed than Charles was used to.
“Professor?” Hank narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Uh, Charles?”
“Sorry, Hank,” Charles said, shaking his head again. “Crossed wire, I suspect.”
He smiled and tapped his head with a finger. Hank smiled back reflexively, still such a nervous expression on his face. Charles had hoped Raven’s easy smiles would rub off on him.
“Now - you were saying the other day, you might have an idea for rebuilding Cerebro, here,” Charles said, gesturing around him to indicate the mansion. Hank nodded emphatically and pulled a large blueprint across the table towards them.
Can you feel how it feels, Charles? Definitely Erik’s voice and definitely not sounding at all like him. Low and predatory, it sent a frisson of want up Charles’ spine. It was followed by the distinct sensation of a hand on a cock. Charles coughed and Hank gave him a strange look.
Charles waved away the concern and tried desperately to focus on Hank’s blueprints. Hank’s words, all thoroughly interesting, were passing directly through Charles’ ears. Erik was engaged in the very definition of ‘broadcasting on all frequencies’ and it was almost impossible to tune him out.
Charles had known from the moment he told Erik that he wasn’t alone that their connection ran too deep. When his mind was left to idle he found himself bumping up against Erik’s thoughts without conscious effort. Usually they were a tangled mess of emotion and finely honed instinct but this - this was not that.
Charles gasped at a particularly vivid image of his own hand wrapping around Erik’s cock, his own cock was beginning to stiffen in response and he shifted in an effort to relieve the pressure. He very nearly heard Erik’s moan as if in the room with him and could no longer resist, letting one tendril of thought touch briefly to his Erik’s mind. He nearly started on the spot.
Erik knew precisely what he was doing. Bastard, Charles thought fondly.
“Are you okay, Charles?” Hank asked, frowning at him. “You seem to be flushed.”
“I -” Charles swallowed dryly, caught in Erik’s imagining of how he would kiss. Not quite so wetly, Charles thought to himself. “Please excuse me - I must, I need to go.”
Charles walked from the room with some difficulty, desperate for Hank to not notice how inconvenienced he was. He thought Hank said something to him as he left but he was distracted by the thought of Erik pulling him down, a wide expanse of Erik’s chest pressed against his won.
In the hall he leant his head against the cool wood of the walls, grimly pressing a hand against the front of his trousers in an effort to maintain some control over himself. He knew he should ask Erik to stop, or take himself somewhere far away from Erik’s thoughts, but at the same time he didn’t want Erik to stop and he didn’t think there was anywhere on earth that would allow him to escape Erik’s thoughts.
“Bugger,” Charles muttered to the wood. He pushed away from the wall and hurried in the direction of the bedrooms, not daring to go near one of the shared bathrooms.
He hesitated at the door of Erik’s room, only two doors down from his own, when Erik, accidentally he thought, layered a second impression over his first - of his own mouth wrapped tight around Charles’ cock. Charles knew from Erik’s underlying thoughts that his door was well and truly locked so he moved on, pushing the urge to break the damned door down as far to the back of his mind as he could.
Erik’s imaginings were so vivid in such close proximity that Charles considered it a miracle that he made it to his own room without destroying another pair of underwear for a much more embarrassing reason than jumping into the sea full clothed. As it was he barely managed to lock his own door before stumbling to the bed, frantically pulling his trousers open and hitching them down.
He grabbed onto one of the bedposts and wrapped a hand around his cock, forcing himself to use long, slow strokes. Erik imagined him touching him confidently, certainty gained from telepathy, and Charles would’ve been offended if it wasn’t true that he had a tendency towards cheating when having sex.
Erik was inviting him, after all, it wouldn’t be so bad if - Charles closed his eyes and slipped in amongst Erik’s thoughts, mingling with the fantasy.
(He’d suck a mark against Erik’s neck and Erik would growl, such a deliciously sexual noise that Charles wouldn’t be able to stop himself from laughing. He’d tangle his fingers with Erik’s on Erik’s cock, feeling the slick heat of it slide between their grip, and tighten a little, change the speed to suit his own desperation.
Erik would pull him in for another kiss and Charles’ cock would press against Erik’s side, the angle awkward but still perfect. Charles would rut against him, unable to resist the friction, and he’d feel Erik’s cock twitch in his hand, Erik’s arousal spiralling higher.)
“Bloody hell, Erik,” Charles muttered, resting his forehead against his hand where it gripped the bedpost. His hips moved of their own volition, momentum causing the bed to rock slightly.
He could feel Erik’s climax building steadily, the crescendo of the greatest symphony ever orchestrated, and he strained towards it with him, hand moving swiftly over his own cock.
(He’d want it, oh how he’d want Erik to come all over their joined hands, want to know that he’d made this man fall apart in all the best of ways. Please, Erik would whisper into his mouth and I want - but Erik wouldn’t even know what he wanted. Charles would know, Charles would always know.
Erik’s body trembling under Charles’ hand, the aching need feeding back on itself and Charles adding his own rumbling pleasure to Erik’s as he moved his hand like so, pressed a finger here and Erik would fly so high before he fell, Charles' name spilling from his lips and Charles would breathe back -)
“Erik, God, Erik,” Charles’ hips snapped hard, his climax shuddering through his whole body and it was all he could to do stop himself from collapsing forwards.
(I know, Charles would say, I know and Erik would close his eyes, unable to even ask what Charles knew. Instead he’d say is that what it’s always like, with a telepath?
Charles would smile. Oh, my friend, he would say, smoothing hair back from Erik’s forehead and placing a kiss there, it is so much more than you can ever imagine.)
Charles slipped from Erik’s mind before Erik could realise he’d been there - though Erik was no doubt smart enough to suspect. He stood up shakily and looked at the mess he’d made of the bed covers.
"Perhaps not one for Mrs Richardson,” he said, brushing his clean hand through his hair. He laughed, then, softly. This was an unexpected development.
--
At dinner Erik’s satisfaction was so palpable even the others noticed. Charles couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Erik’s eyes, certain Erik would know. It didn’t stop him from brushing incurably.
“Why’re you smiling?” Banshee asked, waving his food about carelessly. “It’s a bit creepy.”
“Yeah,” Mystique said, with a smile Charles recognised as dangerous. “You haven’t stopped smiling since you sat down.”
“It’s nothing, really,” Erik said, and Charles could feel Erik staring at him. “I simply had an excellent…nap, this afternoon. Incredibly satisfactory.”
The flush reached Charles’ ears and he swore internally. He had a feeling he’d just lost the war before the first engagement even began.
Summary: Charles' concentration is severely broken.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Words & Warnings: ~1300 / Slight mis-use of telepathy.
Disclaimer: X-Men and all associated = the property of Marvel and Fox.
Notes: Sequel to My Thoughts To Your Thoughts. The reverse PoV.
Also at AO3.
“My end goal is to enable Alex to control his ability and refine it into something much more like a beam than a ring,” Hank said, tapping his diagrams.
“That’s marvellous, Hank,” Charles said, clapping him on the shoulder. “And will hopefully save me a substantial amount of money in mannequins.”
“Yeah,” Hank ducked his head, blushing the way he always did when praised.
Charles was about to ask Hank about specifics when a ghost of thought brushed against his mind. He shook his head briefly. - seeing this? Almost like Erik’s voice but so much more relaxed than Charles was used to.
“Professor?” Hank narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Uh, Charles?”
“Sorry, Hank,” Charles said, shaking his head again. “Crossed wire, I suspect.”
He smiled and tapped his head with a finger. Hank smiled back reflexively, still such a nervous expression on his face. Charles had hoped Raven’s easy smiles would rub off on him.
“Now - you were saying the other day, you might have an idea for rebuilding Cerebro, here,” Charles said, gesturing around him to indicate the mansion. Hank nodded emphatically and pulled a large blueprint across the table towards them.
Can you feel how it feels, Charles? Definitely Erik’s voice and definitely not sounding at all like him. Low and predatory, it sent a frisson of want up Charles’ spine. It was followed by the distinct sensation of a hand on a cock. Charles coughed and Hank gave him a strange look.
Charles waved away the concern and tried desperately to focus on Hank’s blueprints. Hank’s words, all thoroughly interesting, were passing directly through Charles’ ears. Erik was engaged in the very definition of ‘broadcasting on all frequencies’ and it was almost impossible to tune him out.
Charles had known from the moment he told Erik that he wasn’t alone that their connection ran too deep. When his mind was left to idle he found himself bumping up against Erik’s thoughts without conscious effort. Usually they were a tangled mess of emotion and finely honed instinct but this - this was not that.
Charles gasped at a particularly vivid image of his own hand wrapping around Erik’s cock, his own cock was beginning to stiffen in response and he shifted in an effort to relieve the pressure. He very nearly heard Erik’s moan as if in the room with him and could no longer resist, letting one tendril of thought touch briefly to his Erik’s mind. He nearly started on the spot.
Erik knew precisely what he was doing. Bastard, Charles thought fondly.
“Are you okay, Charles?” Hank asked, frowning at him. “You seem to be flushed.”
“I -” Charles swallowed dryly, caught in Erik’s imagining of how he would kiss. Not quite so wetly, Charles thought to himself. “Please excuse me - I must, I need to go.”
Charles walked from the room with some difficulty, desperate for Hank to not notice how inconvenienced he was. He thought Hank said something to him as he left but he was distracted by the thought of Erik pulling him down, a wide expanse of Erik’s chest pressed against his won.
In the hall he leant his head against the cool wood of the walls, grimly pressing a hand against the front of his trousers in an effort to maintain some control over himself. He knew he should ask Erik to stop, or take himself somewhere far away from Erik’s thoughts, but at the same time he didn’t want Erik to stop and he didn’t think there was anywhere on earth that would allow him to escape Erik’s thoughts.
“Bugger,” Charles muttered to the wood. He pushed away from the wall and hurried in the direction of the bedrooms, not daring to go near one of the shared bathrooms.
He hesitated at the door of Erik’s room, only two doors down from his own, when Erik, accidentally he thought, layered a second impression over his first - of his own mouth wrapped tight around Charles’ cock. Charles knew from Erik’s underlying thoughts that his door was well and truly locked so he moved on, pushing the urge to break the damned door down as far to the back of his mind as he could.
Erik’s imaginings were so vivid in such close proximity that Charles considered it a miracle that he made it to his own room without destroying another pair of underwear for a much more embarrassing reason than jumping into the sea full clothed. As it was he barely managed to lock his own door before stumbling to the bed, frantically pulling his trousers open and hitching them down.
He grabbed onto one of the bedposts and wrapped a hand around his cock, forcing himself to use long, slow strokes. Erik imagined him touching him confidently, certainty gained from telepathy, and Charles would’ve been offended if it wasn’t true that he had a tendency towards cheating when having sex.
Erik was inviting him, after all, it wouldn’t be so bad if - Charles closed his eyes and slipped in amongst Erik’s thoughts, mingling with the fantasy.
(He’d suck a mark against Erik’s neck and Erik would growl, such a deliciously sexual noise that Charles wouldn’t be able to stop himself from laughing. He’d tangle his fingers with Erik’s on Erik’s cock, feeling the slick heat of it slide between their grip, and tighten a little, change the speed to suit his own desperation.
Erik would pull him in for another kiss and Charles’ cock would press against Erik’s side, the angle awkward but still perfect. Charles would rut against him, unable to resist the friction, and he’d feel Erik’s cock twitch in his hand, Erik’s arousal spiralling higher.)
“Bloody hell, Erik,” Charles muttered, resting his forehead against his hand where it gripped the bedpost. His hips moved of their own volition, momentum causing the bed to rock slightly.
He could feel Erik’s climax building steadily, the crescendo of the greatest symphony ever orchestrated, and he strained towards it with him, hand moving swiftly over his own cock.
(He’d want it, oh how he’d want Erik to come all over their joined hands, want to know that he’d made this man fall apart in all the best of ways. Please, Erik would whisper into his mouth and I want - but Erik wouldn’t even know what he wanted. Charles would know, Charles would always know.
Erik’s body trembling under Charles’ hand, the aching need feeding back on itself and Charles adding his own rumbling pleasure to Erik’s as he moved his hand like so, pressed a finger here and Erik would fly so high before he fell, Charles' name spilling from his lips and Charles would breathe back -)
“Erik, God, Erik,” Charles’ hips snapped hard, his climax shuddering through his whole body and it was all he could to do stop himself from collapsing forwards.
(I know, Charles would say, I know and Erik would close his eyes, unable to even ask what Charles knew. Instead he’d say is that what it’s always like, with a telepath?
Charles would smile. Oh, my friend, he would say, smoothing hair back from Erik’s forehead and placing a kiss there, it is so much more than you can ever imagine.)
Charles slipped from Erik’s mind before Erik could realise he’d been there - though Erik was no doubt smart enough to suspect. He stood up shakily and looked at the mess he’d made of the bed covers.
"Perhaps not one for Mrs Richardson,” he said, brushing his clean hand through his hair. He laughed, then, softly. This was an unexpected development.
--
At dinner Erik’s satisfaction was so palpable even the others noticed. Charles couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Erik’s eyes, certain Erik would know. It didn’t stop him from brushing incurably.
“Why’re you smiling?” Banshee asked, waving his food about carelessly. “It’s a bit creepy.”
“Yeah,” Mystique said, with a smile Charles recognised as dangerous. “You haven’t stopped smiling since you sat down.”
“It’s nothing, really,” Erik said, and Charles could feel Erik staring at him. “I simply had an excellent…nap, this afternoon. Incredibly satisfactory.”
The flush reached Charles’ ears and he swore internally. He had a feeling he’d just lost the war before the first engagement even began.