fic: Childish Things
Title: Childish Things
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: X-Men (First Class)
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: some elements could be read as dub-con, though not intended that way
Wordcount: 1794
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
Summary: Everyone has a weakness somewhere, but he'd never have imagined Charles's could be something so simple. So childish.
A/N: originally posted, in a slightly different form, as a fill for an anonymous prompt on 1stclass kink: “Charles is extremely ticklish. This gives Erik ideas.” Thanks to blooms84, ginbitch and c_gracewood for advice and encouragement.
Childish Things
“What's the dumbest accident you ever had?” Sean asks over breakfast.
The question unleashes a flood of reminiscences featuring a torched football stadium (Alex), an awkward encounter with bats hanging from the rafters (Hank) and forty-seven greenhouses in a single afternoon (Sean himself).
It's not a conversation Erik's about to join, but he's feeling unusually relaxed after Sunday morning pancakes and maple syrup, mellow enough to let the chatter wash over him with just the occasional spike of irritation at some particular piece of stupidity.
Charles sits there, smiling benignly, listening to it all as if he's taking notes for training purposes. He probably is. Not for the first time, Erik wonders if anyone ever gets under that charming surface - that can't be all there is to the man.
“The dumbest accident I ever had was on Charles's fourteenth birthday,” Raven says, “and it was nothing to do with being a mutant”.
“Doesn't count then,” Alex says. “Boooring.”
Raven ignores him. “Charles knocked me out, thought he'd killed me,” she says. “He had to brainwash a whole bunch of strangers so he didn't get caught taking me to the hospital.”
“Raven!” Charles protests.
“Yeah, I know, it was just a black eye and a nosebleed,” she says. “But you should have seen your face!”
Charles looks very uncomfortable. “Raven, nobody wants to hear about that,” he says.
He couldn't be more wrong: everybody, including Erik, wants to hear about that. Even more so now.
“Professor -” Hank says.
“It wasn't Charles's fault,” Raven says, because Hank is so clearly going to say something about not hitting a girl.
“Raven, please -” Charles says, with an edge in his voice Erik hasn't heard before.
Interesting.
“I was tickling him and he just lashed out,” Raven says.
Hank stops looking disappointed in Charles and starts talking animatedly about varieties of physiological response and uncontrollable reflexes. Everybody ignores him.
“Could have happened to anyone,” Sean says.
“Not me,” Alex says. “I'm not ticklish at all.”
No-one wants to test that assertion. Plasma beams flying around the kitchen: quickest way to ruin a Sunday morning Erik can think of, that's for sure.
“Nobody's as ticklish as Charles,” Raven says, gloating.
Erik looks at Charles, who's shifting uncomfortably in his chair, red-faced with embarrassment. Fascinating. Everyone has a weakness somewhere, but he'd never have imagined Charles's could be something so simple. So childish.
Though actually, it's surprisingly easy to imagine tickling Charles. Easy, and very satisfying. He likes the idea of Charles giggling helplessly, squirming and thrashing around, completely out of control for a change. Maybe he'll try that, next time Charles is being particularly annoying.
Charles chokes on a mouthful of coffee, and Raven bangs him on the back as he coughs and splutters.
“I'm bored with this,” Alex says, getting up suddenly. “Race you to the satellite dish, last one there does everyone's chores for the rest of the day!”
To Erik's surprise, Raven, Hank and Sean all rush out after him, leaving Erik and Charles alone together. He wouldn't have thought they'd - Oh.
“Did you just -” Erik asks, catching up belatedly.
“Yes,” Charles says, embarrassed. “I couldn't see how else to make it stop.”
“Do you hate it that much?” Erik says. “Why does it matter if they know?”
You don't understand.
It's a shock, hearing that voice in his head again. Something's really gone wrong with Charles's boundaries this morning.
Erik's never seen him look so flustered - biting his lip, cheeks flushed, fidgeting in his chair. He's staring at Erik's hands. Feeling a bit self-conscious, Erik flexes his fingers, clenches and unclenches his fists.
“I'm going to work in the library,” Charles says abruptly. “I don't want to be disturbed.”
“Fine,” Erik says. Charles is definitely being weird, but that's his problem, not Erik's. Let him sulk if he wants to.
Don't look at me.
Charles's voice in his head sounds like a plea but has the force of a command. When Erik's able to look up again, Charles has gone.
Left alone in the kitchen, Erik feels his simmering resentment bubble up and boil over. Charles pushes the rest of them around but nobody gets to push him, oh no.
He imagines holding Charles down, tickling him hard all over till he's hysterical, fighting for breath, desperate, begging Erik to stop. Let him feel what it's like to have someone controlling you, making you do things against your will.
Erik feels the heat pooling in his groin, a mixture of anger and lust. Feels a violent answering tug of emotion from Charles, pulling him up out of the kitchen chair and out of the door, so strong he can't stop himself.
Charles is already outside the door to the library, peering into the dimly lit hall. He looks edgy, strained and uncertain; he's breathing raggedly and Erik feels as if he can hear his blood singing. Erik grabs Charles's shoulders and pushes him backwards into the library, shoving him down onto the sofa. He forces the door shut and locks it as he holds Charles down and clambers on top of him, pinning Charles's hands above his head (shouldn't wear cufflinks, should you, my friend?).
“Right,” Erik says. “This is what you get for messing with people's heads, Professor.”
He pushes his hands inside Charles's cardigan and starts tickling his sides, moving down from Charles's armpits to his waist and back up again.
Charles's reaction is instantaneous and even more dramatic than Erik could have imagined. He bucks and shrieks, so loud Erik hopes the others are still busy at the far end of the grounds. This is way too much fun to stop, though Charles is quickly begging for mercy, in between laughing and shrieking and spluttering and gasping. Erik goes on tickling him ruthlessly as Charles twists and turns under him, trying desperately to escape the maddening pressure of Erik's fingers playing over his body.
There's a savage pleasure in seeing Charles so utterly overwhelmed with physical sensation, all his calm and composure destroyed. Seeing him reduced to a needy, begging, writhing mess under Erik's hands, his face flushed, chest heaving, pupils blown wide and lips redder even than usual. Erik never thought he'd see him like this, and he likes it, likes it altogether too much. Wants more of it.
Erik's so hard it's almost embarrassing. Or would be, if Charles didn't have such an obvious erection himself.
“You knocked Raven out because you like this,” Erik says, making a discovery.
“Shut up,” Charles gasps.
It's obviously true, though. Erik imagines Charles at fourteen, ashamed of that physical response to a girl he thought of, still thinks of, as his sister.
“I bet you never let it happen again, did you?” Erik says, dancing his fingers over Charles's hips. “With her or with anyone else.”
“Never,” Charles says. “Oh god, Erik -”
“Still want me to stop?” Erik teases him.
“Yes - no - I don't know,” Charles says, groaning.
His surrender's so complete that it makes Erik feel dizzy. The thought of fucking Charles till he's like this, helpless and beside himself, blows the lid off all the desires he's been trying to keep under control for the last few weeks. It's like an explosion in a fireworks factory, want after want flaring up and setting off a chain reaction. He bites Charles's neck and feels the surge of Charles's response go through him, all his nerves fizzing and crackling with lust.
Yes, Charles says in his mind, Erik, please, yes. I want you.
Flurry of fastenings, buttons and zips and then he's pulling down Charles's undershorts and gazing at the mouthwatering sight of Charles's erection, that perfect curve so ready for him. He runs his hands down Charles's bare chest, firmly enough not to tickle this time, strokes his thighs and pushes them further apart, pressing his thumbs along the line of Charles's groin.
Charles is babbling, words tumbling over each other: “Your hands, oh god Erik, love your hands, want them all over me, wanted that so much so long.”
So that's why he was staring. It all makes sense now, not that it matters.
Erik closes his fingers around Charles's cock and begins to stroke.
“Yes,” Charles says. “Oh god, please, like that.”
The velvety feel of the head as Erik twists his palm around it makes his own cock throb harder. He shoves his pants down with his free hand and presses against Charles, sliding their cocks together. It feels so good Erik has to bite back a moan. He wraps his hand around them both and pulls and squeezes them together, setting a pace that's just slow enough to make Charles whine with frustration.
He holds the orgasm at bay for as long as he can, wanting to draw it out as much as possible, but it can't take long now, can't last, wanting it too much and it feels so good, too good, more and not enough and then everything fuses and shatters and clenches as Charles cries out and he follows. He collapses on top of Charles, gasping and seeing stars, wet heat joining their bodies as if they'll never be parted again.
They lie together, shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. Lazy and sleepy, savouring the sweet slow thrumming of blood in their veins. Heavy-limbed and heavy-eyed. He kisses Charles, and Charles kisses back, and his mouth is the most beautiful thing Erik's mouth has ever felt, like a gorgeous sentient fruit. Erik laughs at the thought and Charles laughs too, saying “I know, it's all back to front.”
“What?” Erik says.
“Kissing's what you do first, right?”
I wouldn't know, Erik thinks, and feels such a surge of protective tenderness and love from Charles in answer that he's almost choked with it. He tries to pull away but Charles clings to him, wrapping his legs around Erik's and twining his fingers in Erik's hair.
It's all for you, he hears Charles thinking. Whatever you want, I want to give you, Erik. Now and always.
“I promise I'll never hurt you,” Charles says out loud. He looks up at Erik, innocent face shining with intention and faith, and Erik's heart feels as if something is squeezing it, hard.
“I can't promise you the same,” Erik says harshly.
The world has come bursting back into the room, and what lies ahead of them is suddenly very sharp and clear.
I don't care, Charles says in his mind, and he pulls Erik down again into his arms.
Erik can hear the young ones coming back from their race. Time seems elastic, though he knows it's not. He wonders how long they've got before everything falls apart. He buries his face in Charles's hair and tries to think of nothing.
Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/74392.html with
comments.
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: X-Men (First Class)
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: some elements could be read as dub-con, though not intended that way
Wordcount: 1794
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
Summary: Everyone has a weakness somewhere, but he'd never have imagined Charles's could be something so simple. So childish.
A/N: originally posted, in a slightly different form, as a fill for an anonymous prompt on 1stclass kink: “Charles is extremely ticklish. This gives Erik ideas.” Thanks to blooms84, ginbitch and c_gracewood for advice and encouragement.
Childish Things
“What's the dumbest accident you ever had?” Sean asks over breakfast.
The question unleashes a flood of reminiscences featuring a torched football stadium (Alex), an awkward encounter with bats hanging from the rafters (Hank) and forty-seven greenhouses in a single afternoon (Sean himself).
It's not a conversation Erik's about to join, but he's feeling unusually relaxed after Sunday morning pancakes and maple syrup, mellow enough to let the chatter wash over him with just the occasional spike of irritation at some particular piece of stupidity.
Charles sits there, smiling benignly, listening to it all as if he's taking notes for training purposes. He probably is. Not for the first time, Erik wonders if anyone ever gets under that charming surface - that can't be all there is to the man.
“The dumbest accident I ever had was on Charles's fourteenth birthday,” Raven says, “and it was nothing to do with being a mutant”.
“Doesn't count then,” Alex says. “Boooring.”
Raven ignores him. “Charles knocked me out, thought he'd killed me,” she says. “He had to brainwash a whole bunch of strangers so he didn't get caught taking me to the hospital.”
“Raven!” Charles protests.
“Yeah, I know, it was just a black eye and a nosebleed,” she says. “But you should have seen your face!”
Charles looks very uncomfortable. “Raven, nobody wants to hear about that,” he says.
He couldn't be more wrong: everybody, including Erik, wants to hear about that. Even more so now.
“Professor -” Hank says.
“It wasn't Charles's fault,” Raven says, because Hank is so clearly going to say something about not hitting a girl.
“Raven, please -” Charles says, with an edge in his voice Erik hasn't heard before.
Interesting.
“I was tickling him and he just lashed out,” Raven says.
Hank stops looking disappointed in Charles and starts talking animatedly about varieties of physiological response and uncontrollable reflexes. Everybody ignores him.
“Could have happened to anyone,” Sean says.
“Not me,” Alex says. “I'm not ticklish at all.”
No-one wants to test that assertion. Plasma beams flying around the kitchen: quickest way to ruin a Sunday morning Erik can think of, that's for sure.
“Nobody's as ticklish as Charles,” Raven says, gloating.
Erik looks at Charles, who's shifting uncomfortably in his chair, red-faced with embarrassment. Fascinating. Everyone has a weakness somewhere, but he'd never have imagined Charles's could be something so simple. So childish.
Though actually, it's surprisingly easy to imagine tickling Charles. Easy, and very satisfying. He likes the idea of Charles giggling helplessly, squirming and thrashing around, completely out of control for a change. Maybe he'll try that, next time Charles is being particularly annoying.
Charles chokes on a mouthful of coffee, and Raven bangs him on the back as he coughs and splutters.
“I'm bored with this,” Alex says, getting up suddenly. “Race you to the satellite dish, last one there does everyone's chores for the rest of the day!”
To Erik's surprise, Raven, Hank and Sean all rush out after him, leaving Erik and Charles alone together. He wouldn't have thought they'd - Oh.
“Did you just -” Erik asks, catching up belatedly.
“Yes,” Charles says, embarrassed. “I couldn't see how else to make it stop.”
“Do you hate it that much?” Erik says. “Why does it matter if they know?”
You don't understand.
It's a shock, hearing that voice in his head again. Something's really gone wrong with Charles's boundaries this morning.
Erik's never seen him look so flustered - biting his lip, cheeks flushed, fidgeting in his chair. He's staring at Erik's hands. Feeling a bit self-conscious, Erik flexes his fingers, clenches and unclenches his fists.
“I'm going to work in the library,” Charles says abruptly. “I don't want to be disturbed.”
“Fine,” Erik says. Charles is definitely being weird, but that's his problem, not Erik's. Let him sulk if he wants to.
Don't look at me.
Charles's voice in his head sounds like a plea but has the force of a command. When Erik's able to look up again, Charles has gone.
Left alone in the kitchen, Erik feels his simmering resentment bubble up and boil over. Charles pushes the rest of them around but nobody gets to push him, oh no.
He imagines holding Charles down, tickling him hard all over till he's hysterical, fighting for breath, desperate, begging Erik to stop. Let him feel what it's like to have someone controlling you, making you do things against your will.
Erik feels the heat pooling in his groin, a mixture of anger and lust. Feels a violent answering tug of emotion from Charles, pulling him up out of the kitchen chair and out of the door, so strong he can't stop himself.
Charles is already outside the door to the library, peering into the dimly lit hall. He looks edgy, strained and uncertain; he's breathing raggedly and Erik feels as if he can hear his blood singing. Erik grabs Charles's shoulders and pushes him backwards into the library, shoving him down onto the sofa. He forces the door shut and locks it as he holds Charles down and clambers on top of him, pinning Charles's hands above his head (shouldn't wear cufflinks, should you, my friend?).
“Right,” Erik says. “This is what you get for messing with people's heads, Professor.”
He pushes his hands inside Charles's cardigan and starts tickling his sides, moving down from Charles's armpits to his waist and back up again.
Charles's reaction is instantaneous and even more dramatic than Erik could have imagined. He bucks and shrieks, so loud Erik hopes the others are still busy at the far end of the grounds. This is way too much fun to stop, though Charles is quickly begging for mercy, in between laughing and shrieking and spluttering and gasping. Erik goes on tickling him ruthlessly as Charles twists and turns under him, trying desperately to escape the maddening pressure of Erik's fingers playing over his body.
There's a savage pleasure in seeing Charles so utterly overwhelmed with physical sensation, all his calm and composure destroyed. Seeing him reduced to a needy, begging, writhing mess under Erik's hands, his face flushed, chest heaving, pupils blown wide and lips redder even than usual. Erik never thought he'd see him like this, and he likes it, likes it altogether too much. Wants more of it.
Erik's so hard it's almost embarrassing. Or would be, if Charles didn't have such an obvious erection himself.
“You knocked Raven out because you like this,” Erik says, making a discovery.
“Shut up,” Charles gasps.
It's obviously true, though. Erik imagines Charles at fourteen, ashamed of that physical response to a girl he thought of, still thinks of, as his sister.
“I bet you never let it happen again, did you?” Erik says, dancing his fingers over Charles's hips. “With her or with anyone else.”
“Never,” Charles says. “Oh god, Erik -”
“Still want me to stop?” Erik teases him.
“Yes - no - I don't know,” Charles says, groaning.
His surrender's so complete that it makes Erik feel dizzy. The thought of fucking Charles till he's like this, helpless and beside himself, blows the lid off all the desires he's been trying to keep under control for the last few weeks. It's like an explosion in a fireworks factory, want after want flaring up and setting off a chain reaction. He bites Charles's neck and feels the surge of Charles's response go through him, all his nerves fizzing and crackling with lust.
Yes, Charles says in his mind, Erik, please, yes. I want you.
Flurry of fastenings, buttons and zips and then he's pulling down Charles's undershorts and gazing at the mouthwatering sight of Charles's erection, that perfect curve so ready for him. He runs his hands down Charles's bare chest, firmly enough not to tickle this time, strokes his thighs and pushes them further apart, pressing his thumbs along the line of Charles's groin.
Charles is babbling, words tumbling over each other: “Your hands, oh god Erik, love your hands, want them all over me, wanted that so much so long.”
So that's why he was staring. It all makes sense now, not that it matters.
Erik closes his fingers around Charles's cock and begins to stroke.
“Yes,” Charles says. “Oh god, please, like that.”
The velvety feel of the head as Erik twists his palm around it makes his own cock throb harder. He shoves his pants down with his free hand and presses against Charles, sliding their cocks together. It feels so good Erik has to bite back a moan. He wraps his hand around them both and pulls and squeezes them together, setting a pace that's just slow enough to make Charles whine with frustration.
He holds the orgasm at bay for as long as he can, wanting to draw it out as much as possible, but it can't take long now, can't last, wanting it too much and it feels so good, too good, more and not enough and then everything fuses and shatters and clenches as Charles cries out and he follows. He collapses on top of Charles, gasping and seeing stars, wet heat joining their bodies as if they'll never be parted again.
They lie together, shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. Lazy and sleepy, savouring the sweet slow thrumming of blood in their veins. Heavy-limbed and heavy-eyed. He kisses Charles, and Charles kisses back, and his mouth is the most beautiful thing Erik's mouth has ever felt, like a gorgeous sentient fruit. Erik laughs at the thought and Charles laughs too, saying “I know, it's all back to front.”
“What?” Erik says.
“Kissing's what you do first, right?”
I wouldn't know, Erik thinks, and feels such a surge of protective tenderness and love from Charles in answer that he's almost choked with it. He tries to pull away but Charles clings to him, wrapping his legs around Erik's and twining his fingers in Erik's hair.
It's all for you, he hears Charles thinking. Whatever you want, I want to give you, Erik. Now and always.
“I promise I'll never hurt you,” Charles says out loud. He looks up at Erik, innocent face shining with intention and faith, and Erik's heart feels as if something is squeezing it, hard.
“I can't promise you the same,” Erik says harshly.
The world has come bursting back into the room, and what lies ahead of them is suddenly very sharp and clear.
I don't care, Charles says in his mind, and he pulls Erik down again into his arms.
Erik can hear the young ones coming back from their race. Time seems elastic, though he knows it's not. He wonders how long they've got before everything falls apart. He buries his face in Charles's hair and tries to think of nothing.
Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/74392.html with
comments.