XMFC FF: All Quiet on the Westchester Front (1/1)
Series: One-Shot
Rating: M
Summary: Rainbows are pretty, but Erik gets bored pretty easily!
Prompt: Remember when Erik found Raven naked in his bed, and in a completely unsurprised manner said, "Well, this is a surprise." The reason he said it that way is because all the other people in the household have tried the same strategy as well. ( Link)
- - -
...Somebody should execute me for writing this. I am so, so sorry.
- - -
All Quiet on the Westchester Front
Red
“It was a mistake,” Erik said gravely, “and the mistake was all yours.” He stared hard at the empty space where the antique door handle used to reside, willing a nearby misshapen lump of brass to stop hovering in hesitation and pull itself into its previous shape. If only Erik had paid more attention to the shape of door handles.
“You nearly killed me, for Christ’s sake!” The wail could almost pass as that of a maiden, to befit the fact that Sean had Erik’s blanket drawn up to his chin, like the blushing virgin he was not. “That door handle flew at me and tried to choke me!”
Condensing the attempt of a door handle into a dense ball, Erik practically growled, “You were hiding under my blanket. Naked.”
“You tried to pull a metal bondage kink on me!”
The brass ball reasserted itself into the door as a doorknob. Mulling over it, Erik sighed, “No. I was trying to kill you.”
“Jesus, man,” Sean moaned, pulling the covers over his frazzled mop of ginger, “you’re so frigid.”
Erik tried to remember his father’s tone whenever he had done something very, very bad, like making their neighbour’s television, the only one in their street, grow legs and walk into their living room. “Sean,” he said, with a deadly patience that was more oxymoronic than logical and therefore all the more intimidating, “if you didn’t want me to push you off windows or any other high places, you should have just told me. I would have killed you in your sleep. There would have been no need for this attempt of,” he waved in distaste, “errant seduction.”
“What - don’t tell me you don’t swing that way.” Sean looked like he was about to cry and renounce his faith in justice for all. “That’s, like, Lucifer’s level of unfairness.”
He felt a vein in his temple giving a twitch at the word ‘unfair’. “No, Sean,” he heaved, “I don’t swing that way.”
“I can’t believe you’re not gay -”
Giving him a long, hard look, in a tone equivalent to a Siberian blizzard, Erik said, “I mean, I don’t do toddlers.”
XXX
Orange
Once Erik entered his room and found Alex approximating the pose of Michelangelo’s David on his bed, complete with David’s well-known costume of birth.
He closed the door and managed to control his temper a second too late; the doorknob had flown across the room and leeched onto Alex’s vital regions. He did, however, manage to close it before his traumatised mind could shape the ball into a fig leaf.
XXX
Yellow
Once Erik found Hank on his bed, covered in cheese topping and mustard. He was also tied to the bedposts with pretty yellow ribbons. Presumably to save Erik from the discomfort of listening to Hank’s panicked screams, someone had stuffed his mouth with a yellow sock. Then again, perhaps it had been done with the captor’s comfort in mind. Either way, Erik did not care; he was just relieved.
“Stay silent,” he warned the struggling, wide-eyed Hank. “I’ve got a headache. One word and I’ll castrate you with the door handle.”
The moment he removed the sock, Hank eyed the door handle strangely, cleared his throat, and said, “I regret to say that your concept of what a door handle should look like is sadly mistaken. You see, it is a doorknob -“
“What doorknob?” Erik muttered, and both men stared at the whirring thin blade the doorknob had become, its jagged teeth teasing the air between Hank’s legs very, very uncomfortably.
Both men contemplated this turn of events for several seconds of mutual silence, with conflicting emotions. The doorknob did not return to being a doorknob until Hank broke down and whispered that please, Your Majesty Erik Lehnsherr, I think I’m going to wet myself if you keep on with that.
XXX
Green
When Erik burst into his room after a morning run and found Charles in his bed, wearing nothing but what looked like a hula skirt, he nearly fainted with relief.
“Erik, my friend, I just read Tarzan of the Apes and I demand that we spice up our sex life with Burroughs’ au naturel eroticism right now.”
Erik could have kissed Charles’ feet and worship him as the saviour of his sanity. However, since his man pride refused to let him do so, he knelt on the wooden floor, let the doorknob grow a blade, sliced off Charles’ skirt, and proceeded to worship the man’s cock instead.
XXX
Blue
For appearance’s sake, and because Charles would hate him and not let him try out Stoker’s Dracula if he made Raven cry, he quipped in his trademark baritone, “Well, this is a surprise.”
Later that night, he would request Charles to venture beyond fiction and perhaps try out non-fiction instead. His reason was that it was all getting too predictable.
“We could always try my thesis,” Charles volunteered.
In two days’ time, despite not having finished the first chapter of the thesis, Erik would request Charles to return to fiction, because his thesis kept sending him to sleep, and it was all getting too predictable, too predictable, indeed.
- - -
Flame time, people.
Rating: M
Summary: Rainbows are pretty, but Erik gets bored pretty easily!
Prompt: Remember when Erik found Raven naked in his bed, and in a completely unsurprised manner said, "Well, this is a surprise." The reason he said it that way is because all the other people in the household have tried the same strategy as well. ( Link)
- - -
...Somebody should execute me for writing this. I am so, so sorry.
- - -
All Quiet on the Westchester Front
Red
“It was a mistake,” Erik said gravely, “and the mistake was all yours.” He stared hard at the empty space where the antique door handle used to reside, willing a nearby misshapen lump of brass to stop hovering in hesitation and pull itself into its previous shape. If only Erik had paid more attention to the shape of door handles.
“You nearly killed me, for Christ’s sake!” The wail could almost pass as that of a maiden, to befit the fact that Sean had Erik’s blanket drawn up to his chin, like the blushing virgin he was not. “That door handle flew at me and tried to choke me!”
Condensing the attempt of a door handle into a dense ball, Erik practically growled, “You were hiding under my blanket. Naked.”
“You tried to pull a metal bondage kink on me!”
The brass ball reasserted itself into the door as a doorknob. Mulling over it, Erik sighed, “No. I was trying to kill you.”
“Jesus, man,” Sean moaned, pulling the covers over his frazzled mop of ginger, “you’re so frigid.”
Erik tried to remember his father’s tone whenever he had done something very, very bad, like making their neighbour’s television, the only one in their street, grow legs and walk into their living room. “Sean,” he said, with a deadly patience that was more oxymoronic than logical and therefore all the more intimidating, “if you didn’t want me to push you off windows or any other high places, you should have just told me. I would have killed you in your sleep. There would have been no need for this attempt of,” he waved in distaste, “errant seduction.”
“What - don’t tell me you don’t swing that way.” Sean looked like he was about to cry and renounce his faith in justice for all. “That’s, like, Lucifer’s level of unfairness.”
He felt a vein in his temple giving a twitch at the word ‘unfair’. “No, Sean,” he heaved, “I don’t swing that way.”
“I can’t believe you’re not gay -”
Giving him a long, hard look, in a tone equivalent to a Siberian blizzard, Erik said, “I mean, I don’t do toddlers.”
XXX
Orange
Once Erik entered his room and found Alex approximating the pose of Michelangelo’s David on his bed, complete with David’s well-known costume of birth.
He closed the door and managed to control his temper a second too late; the doorknob had flown across the room and leeched onto Alex’s vital regions. He did, however, manage to close it before his traumatised mind could shape the ball into a fig leaf.
XXX
Yellow
Once Erik found Hank on his bed, covered in cheese topping and mustard. He was also tied to the bedposts with pretty yellow ribbons. Presumably to save Erik from the discomfort of listening to Hank’s panicked screams, someone had stuffed his mouth with a yellow sock. Then again, perhaps it had been done with the captor’s comfort in mind. Either way, Erik did not care; he was just relieved.
“Stay silent,” he warned the struggling, wide-eyed Hank. “I’ve got a headache. One word and I’ll castrate you with the door handle.”
The moment he removed the sock, Hank eyed the door handle strangely, cleared his throat, and said, “I regret to say that your concept of what a door handle should look like is sadly mistaken. You see, it is a doorknob -“
“What doorknob?” Erik muttered, and both men stared at the whirring thin blade the doorknob had become, its jagged teeth teasing the air between Hank’s legs very, very uncomfortably.
Both men contemplated this turn of events for several seconds of mutual silence, with conflicting emotions. The doorknob did not return to being a doorknob until Hank broke down and whispered that please, Your Majesty Erik Lehnsherr, I think I’m going to wet myself if you keep on with that.
XXX
Green
When Erik burst into his room after a morning run and found Charles in his bed, wearing nothing but what looked like a hula skirt, he nearly fainted with relief.
“Erik, my friend, I just read Tarzan of the Apes and I demand that we spice up our sex life with Burroughs’ au naturel eroticism right now.”
Erik could have kissed Charles’ feet and worship him as the saviour of his sanity. However, since his man pride refused to let him do so, he knelt on the wooden floor, let the doorknob grow a blade, sliced off Charles’ skirt, and proceeded to worship the man’s cock instead.
XXX
Blue
For appearance’s sake, and because Charles would hate him and not let him try out Stoker’s Dracula if he made Raven cry, he quipped in his trademark baritone, “Well, this is a surprise.”
Later that night, he would request Charles to venture beyond fiction and perhaps try out non-fiction instead. His reason was that it was all getting too predictable.
“We could always try my thesis,” Charles volunteered.
In two days’ time, despite not having finished the first chapter of the thesis, Erik would request Charles to return to fiction, because his thesis kept sending him to sleep, and it was all getting too predictable, too predictable, indeed.
- - -
Flame time, people.