Charles/Erik, "We don't have any lube!" 1/2fourfreedomsAugust 25 2011, 19:37:47 UTC
He realizes something is wrong immediately, but he doesn’t know how to broach the subject until Charles gets back to the hotel room and starts stripping off his clothing, piece by piece, without even bothering to fold it. The horror, Charles Xavier failing to neatly put away his clothing.
“Charles, is everything all right?”
Charles replies somewhat breathlessly. “Yes, my friend, it’s all copacetic.”
And all Erik sees before Charles flees into the bathroom is the pale curve of his backside and the line of his shoulder. The door slams behind him and a few seconds later he hears the shower click on.
Erik shrugs and settles in to read a book. Five chapters later, he realizes Charles has been in there for a very long time.
He knocks on the door and calls Charles’ name, but gets nothing in response. Has Charles hit his head? God, maybe he’s bleeding out in there and Erik’s been reading D. H. Lawrence in bed. The door practically flies open under his hand.
“Charles?” he calls again tentatively, before drawing the shower curtain back with the flick of the wrist. Charles is revealed, naked and pale, cock clutched in hand and forehead pressed to the tile in front of him. Erik is frozen in shock, lips parted, unable to look away. Charles moans, shoulders visibly shaking.
“Erik, go...away,” he says in a voice of steel that completely belies his wanton and mewling visage.
Erik blows out a breath, finally tearing his eyes away to look over Charles’ head. “No.”
Charles moans again, slumping under the spray. “Erik, please...”
Erik ignores him. “What happened?”
Charles breathes hard, hair falling wet and dark into his eyes, water streaming down his body. “That mutant we met,” he gasps, “along with being a sensitive empath, also had a secondary mutation.”
Erik gives him a skeptical look. “She gave you an uncontrollable urge to masturbate?”
Charles laughs bitterly. “Well, for release, yes.” Erik watched his fingers curl and clench against the tile, like he was strongly fighting the urge to take himself in hand again. “I suspect she was only trying to make me happy, but her abilities, somewhat...lack in finesse.”
Erik clears his throat. “Well, this isn’t working.”
Charles sounds more than a little irritated when he snaps, “It would if you would leave!”
Erik snorts. “Charles, unless I miss my guess, you’ve been in here for two hours already.” He pauses when Charles lets out another choked moan.“I think it’s fair to say this isn’t working.”
“What...exactly are you suggesting?” Charles finally looks at him with glassy eyes.
“Well, I could--”
“Erik...” Charles laughs again, that same bitter, bitten off sound. Erik feels a gentle presence rifling briefly through his mind, probably only because Charles is announcing to him that he’s there. It’s not altogether unpleasant. “Erik, you have never touched another man.”
“Charles, to be honest, I’m afraid you’ll break it,” he says, shooting a deliberate look at Charles’ swollen prick.
“Erik,” Charles says, voice edged with desperation.
Charles/Erik, "We don't have any lube!" 2/2fourfreedomsAugust 25 2011, 19:39:55 UTC
And that’s how he winds up lying on his side, fully clothed, on his bed next to a naked and damp Charles, staring clinically at his cock. “Right, so I don’t think I’m up to fellating you.”
Charles throws an arm over his face and groans. “Fellating! Good Christ!”
Erik rolls his eyes and reaches for Charles’ erection, pausing just before he can wrap his hand around it. It’s a good size, especially for somebody as short as Charles. Erik has never really spent much time contemplating other men’s cocks, but it’s not bad. Charles peers up at him from under his arm. “May I remind you, this was your master plan.”
Erik smacks his shoulder. “Behave, I’m getting to it.” He holds Charles’ gaze pointedly as he closes his fist around it. Charles exhales, eyes slamming shut and fingers drawing rents in the blanket below him. He bites his lip as Erik starts cautiously stroking. “Is this too much friction?”
“What?” Charles replies, voice strangled. He takes a moment to gather himself together and Erik has to hide a smile. “Oh, right, you’re circumcised.” The joys of the foreskin, Charles tells him directly in his head, at the same time that he’s moaning out loud. Multitasking. Impressive. Erik thumbs the head, pushing into the slit. Charles’ hips rise off the bed and he reaches out and grabs Erik’s shoulder. And before Erik knows it, arousal is slamming through him, making his trousers way too tight. He wonders if Charles knows he’s rubbing circles on Erik’s collarbone.
“Are you...projecting or broadcasting or whatever it is that you do?” he asks, looking down his body with a weather eye at the bulge underneath his zipper.
Charles laughs and Erik finds the sound unspeakably sexy. What the hell is wrong with him? This was just supposed to be a literal helping hand. “I’m afraid that’s all you,” Charles says, softly. Erik groans and drops his head to Charles’ shoulder, hand stilling on his cock.
Charles waits a second and then tilts Erik’s face up, whatever he sees there leads him to a decision and he draws Erik over him, kissing him. Just don’t think about it, he says, nibbling on Erik’s lip. It’s just gratification.
He works a hand between them, getting Erik’s trousers open with a little mental help and freeing his cock so that it slides along Charles’ belly. Erik can’t help the choked off noise that comes out of his mouth. He begins thrusting, putting his entire back into it, while Charles lies underneath him, crying out desperately, like he can’t get enough.
“Can I fuck you?” Erik asks, mouth hovering over Charles’. “Lemme fuck you.”
Charles’ breathes out. He doesn’t respond until Erik’s next thrust hits right under his balls. “We’re going to need some help.”
Erik pauses, staring down at him. “What?”
“God! Lubricant, Erik! Not whatever it is you’re picturing.”
Erik blushes. He thinks desperately of what he has with him. Shaving cream? No. Aftershave? Definitely not. Ballistol? Hmm.
“Erik! We are not using gun oil!”
“It’s that or the WD-40 I keep for rusted metal,” he replies, pragmatically. “Also, Ballistol is just mineral oil. Should be fine.”
“Charles, is everything all right?”
Charles replies somewhat breathlessly. “Yes, my friend, it’s all copacetic.”
And all Erik sees before Charles flees into the bathroom is the pale curve of his backside and the line of his shoulder. The door slams behind him and a few seconds later he hears the shower click on.
Erik shrugs and settles in to read a book. Five chapters later, he realizes Charles has been in there for a very long time.
He knocks on the door and calls Charles’ name, but gets nothing in response. Has Charles hit his head? God, maybe he’s bleeding out in there and Erik’s been reading D. H. Lawrence in bed. The door practically flies open under his hand.
“Charles?” he calls again tentatively, before drawing the shower curtain back with the flick of the wrist. Charles is revealed, naked and pale, cock clutched in hand and forehead pressed to the tile in front of him. Erik is frozen in shock, lips parted, unable to look away. Charles moans, shoulders visibly shaking.
“Erik, go...away,” he says in a voice of steel that completely belies his wanton and mewling visage.
Erik blows out a breath, finally tearing his eyes away to look over Charles’ head. “No.”
Charles moans again, slumping under the spray. “Erik, please...”
Erik ignores him. “What happened?”
Charles breathes hard, hair falling wet and dark into his eyes, water streaming down his body. “That mutant we met,” he gasps, “along with being a sensitive empath, also had a secondary mutation.”
Erik gives him a skeptical look. “She gave you an uncontrollable urge to masturbate?”
Charles laughs bitterly. “Well, for release, yes.” Erik watched his fingers curl and clench against the tile, like he was strongly fighting the urge to take himself in hand again. “I suspect she was only trying to make me happy, but her abilities, somewhat...lack in finesse.”
Erik clears his throat. “Well, this isn’t working.”
Charles sounds more than a little irritated when he snaps, “It would if you would leave!”
Erik snorts. “Charles, unless I miss my guess, you’ve been in here for two hours already.” He pauses when Charles lets out another choked moan.“I think it’s fair to say this isn’t working.”
“What...exactly are you suggesting?” Charles finally looks at him with glassy eyes.
“Well, I could--”
“Erik...” Charles laughs again, that same bitter, bitten off sound. Erik feels a gentle presence rifling briefly through his mind, probably only because Charles is announcing to him that he’s there. It’s not altogether unpleasant. “Erik, you have never touched another man.”
“Charles, to be honest, I’m afraid you’ll break it,” he says, shooting a deliberate look at Charles’ swollen prick.
“Erik,” Charles says, voice edged with desperation.
“Charles,” Erik replies evenly.
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Charles throws an arm over his face and groans. “Fellating! Good Christ!”
Erik rolls his eyes and reaches for Charles’ erection, pausing just before he can wrap his hand around it. It’s a good size, especially for somebody as short as Charles. Erik has never really spent much time contemplating other men’s cocks, but it’s not bad. Charles peers up at him from under his arm. “May I remind you, this was your master plan.”
Erik smacks his shoulder. “Behave, I’m getting to it.” He holds Charles’ gaze pointedly as he closes his fist around it. Charles exhales, eyes slamming shut and fingers drawing rents in the blanket below him. He bites his lip as Erik starts cautiously stroking. “Is this too much friction?”
“What?” Charles replies, voice strangled. He takes a moment to gather himself together and Erik has to hide a smile. “Oh, right, you’re circumcised.”
The joys of the foreskin, Charles tells him directly in his head, at the same time that he’s moaning out loud. Multitasking. Impressive. Erik thumbs the head, pushing into the slit. Charles’ hips rise off the bed and he reaches out and grabs Erik’s shoulder. And before Erik knows it, arousal is slamming through him, making his trousers way too tight. He wonders if Charles knows he’s rubbing circles on Erik’s collarbone.
“Are you...projecting or broadcasting or whatever it is that you do?” he asks, looking down his body with a weather eye at the bulge underneath his zipper.
Charles laughs and Erik finds the sound unspeakably sexy. What the hell is wrong with him? This was just supposed to be a literal helping hand. “I’m afraid that’s all you,” Charles says, softly. Erik groans and drops his head to Charles’ shoulder, hand stilling on his cock.
Charles waits a second and then tilts Erik’s face up, whatever he sees there leads him to a decision and he draws Erik over him, kissing him. Just don’t think about it, he says, nibbling on Erik’s lip. It’s just gratification.
He works a hand between them, getting Erik’s trousers open with a little mental help and freeing his cock so that it slides along Charles’ belly. Erik can’t help the choked off noise that comes out of his mouth. He begins thrusting, putting his entire back into it, while Charles lies underneath him, crying out desperately, like he can’t get enough.
“Can I fuck you?” Erik asks, mouth hovering over Charles’. “Lemme fuck you.”
Charles’ breathes out. He doesn’t respond until Erik’s next thrust hits right under his balls. “We’re going to need some help.”
Erik pauses, staring down at him. “What?”
“God! Lubricant, Erik! Not whatever it is you’re picturing.”
Erik blushes. He thinks desperately of what he has with him. Shaving cream? No. Aftershave? Definitely not. Ballistol? Hmm.
“Erik! We are not using gun oil!”
“It’s that or the WD-40 I keep for rusted metal,” he replies, pragmatically. “Also, Ballistol is just mineral oil. Should be fine.”
“Ah you know what. Problem solved!”
“Sorry?”
“You have killed the mood entirely!”
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Or rather, oh my god, reading it over again and I'm still laughing so hard. GUN OIL. Best.
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