[ Fingers pause on the page, the book held open in his lap; the light from the bedside lamp causes enough of a soft glow to allow him to read. The touch of that presence-- the strength of feeling that is so entirely Charles causes him to look up from the cloth-bound volume, blinking once with interest, and he consciously thinks back, ] Come in, it's unlocked. [ He doesn't bother to get out of bed and open the door-- there was no need for such a sense of propriety with Charles; something about the telepath had him intrinsically comfortable; a subtle calming influence that tonight seems to be just vaguely unsettled. However, the handle does turn by itself, having unlocked a moment before.
It's an entirely comfortable scene; a little incongruent with Erik's usual character-- but in the weeks at the mansion he has relaxed significantly, less on edge; and it could be that he's healing in some way, for the first time. The blanket is thrown over his knees, back propped against the padded headboard; hair and clothing rumpled from movement. A thumb slips between the pages, closing The Great Gatsby half-way. ] Something wrong?
[ He presses his fingers against the solid wood of the door, nudging it open at first to get a gauge on the situation. Taking a look around he noted Erik's comfortable posture and the well worn book in his hands and actually cracks a little bit of a smile, it was a bit of a roll reversal in his mind; at least visually. Stepping inside he gently nudges the door closed behind him.
Stepping around to the edge of the bed, he leaned himself against the foot board with a little huff of air passing his lips. ] Just not able to sleep, I wandered around for a bit but everything felt... [ He pauses, trying to gather the proper words, ] Everything seemed empty; I thought I'd come and see if you were awake.. [ He realizes then, that he sounds a bit silly and a light flush colors his cheeks but he laughs it off. ] I really have no idea why I showed up here; it seemed like a good idea at the time.
[ While Erik does not return the smile, his expression seems bemused nonetheless-- eyebrows inching just barely upwards when Charles moves into the room. It's not unwelcome; the other man's company has been something that he seeks out-- enjoying the easy familiarity that came with it. The blush deepens his own amusement; while not being the mind-reader of the pair, he's learning quickly that Charles is far from difficult to read; his changes in expression and gestures are as expressive as any explanation. ] I'm not so heartless as to turn you out into the hallway, my friend, sit down at least. [ There's a dismissive gesture to accompany that, and with a mild countenance he considers the telepath from across the bed. ]
It is your house, after all. [ Shifting the book, tucking the inner flap of the dust cover to mark his page, Erik settles both hands on the covers-- seeming close to pensive. ] What would make you say it seems empty?
[ He pauses, his lips not quite managing the words to tell him it's almost always been empty. Even when Raven had come, neither of them had ever felt particularly warmed up to the place-- Raven often telling him she preferred the flat at Oxford; but they couldn't stay there forever-- and they certainly couldn't fit the whole lot they have now into the small flat. He bumps his knees against the wooden foot-board, his fingers lightly tracing the blankets at the edge of the bed. ] Perhaps it's the quiet or just being back here again-- it's not a especially warm home. [ The ornate fixtures and ancient rugs were beautiful, but lent nothing to it feeling any more like a home than the unsmiling pictures hung on the wall.
He clears his throat and quickly changes the subject, ] I see you're still awake...?
[ It's a moment before Erik glances down to the book that he's holding-- because the hesitation from the other man did seem to imply more than he had said; he knows very little about Charles' life, or the family that had surely once lived in this house. Shifting a little on the bed, he catches the other's eye, still seeming to study him-- possibly somewhat reluctant to change the subject, though he allows it with no comment on the earlier matter. ] Reading, yes. [ There's a touch of humor in his tone, just vaguely patronizing, although it is mainly fond teasing. One finger taps the book's cover. ] Your library has a considerable collection.
[ He sits back against the headboard, relaxing his posture, the book still held loosely in his hands. ] I don't think I'm going to be the most competent chess opponent, if was what you were originally out for.
I like books, my father liked books quite a lot too, I'm sure my grandfather probably did as well considering the number of shelves in this house. [ A mildly thoughtful expression, but he doesn't let himself be drawn into memories. He turns sideways, just enough to rest his weight on the edge of the bed, leaning himself in Erik's direction by planting a hand down in a clear space to balance himself. He doesn't move any closer, it's far forward and unusual enough to be in another mans bedroom in the middle of the night. ]
I wasn't looking to drag you out of bed, [ He murmurs, looking a bit abashed, ] I simply came for a few moments of company. [ He sighs, and for a moment the lines of his face are more pronounced, that ever present youthful exuberance is lacking, the night had been long and wearing on Charles. ]
Coming from Oxford, I'd expect that you wouldn't have much of a choice in that matter. [ His gaze follows the man.
It's a new position to be placed in-- and he has not experienced Charles quite so uncomfortable, around himself of all people. There had been that initial awkwardness when they had met; and he had borne the brunt of the other man's eager friendship. It had begun on uneven footing, because Erik is no telepath, while Charles-- Charles knew everything about him. It had been disconcerting, though he had been as curious as the telepath-- and the mutual fascination had given way to genuine camaraderie. Erik watches, tongue running over his bottom lip before speaking. ] Relax, my friend.
[ He motions to the edge of the bed, a frown finally creasing his brow. ] Are you sure that everything is alright with you?
As well as can be expected what with everything going on, [ The looming threat of a third World War, a house full of noisy children, uncomfortable memories of his, and occasionally Raven's, childhood looming in the house. He wants to make it into something better, this place-- with these people, but he knows that it's a bit foolish on his part. A school for mutants, however fantastic would always be questioned-- unless they managed to fix this, the nuclear threat-- then perhaps he could make things better for the next generation and Erik... Erik. He sucks in a breath turning a half smile on him, ]
I am being truthful with you, my friend, I had just come for your company. I'm not sure why, it just seemed right.
[ He puts the book aside, setting it down next to him on the bed. There's something off about this evening-- he'd felt it immediately when Charles had entered; possibly a hint of emotional runoff from the other man's wide-open consciousness. There's a silence after Charles has spoken, because it's too late for chess, and he's drowsy enough that a discussion on mutant-human coexistence would be entirely moot. There's something else too-- not tension, surely, but he can't put any other name to it-- something still unsaid between them both; walked around and talked around over the passing weeks. After the heavy pause (and Erik has looked away for it; studying the cover of the book-- the oldest edition he's seen; with the original illustration) he catches the other man's eye again, seeming oddly abashed. ]
Well, I'm glad you did. [ But he's still hesitant, although there's an answering smile sent the other's way. ]
[ He nods gently, one hand reaching up and rubbing along his shoulder blade, pushing his fingers down into the tense muscle and debating his own choices. Erik's words were a bit of a relief to his concious, though he was still questioning his reasoning-- or more so the actions he allowed himself. Things had been trending so close to the edge, that ease of their new-found friendship was something he'd be hard-pressed to risk. Still...
Shifting up the bed from near the foot of it, and nearer to settling beside Erik's knees his brows knit together. Concern, or perhaps worry, flashing across his features as he lifted his gaze again. Charles, even with everything that he had experienced, had never really learned to stop wearing his heart on his sleeve. ] Erik, I--... [ He begins and then silences himself, because non of the things he has to say sound right, none of them express his thoughts so easily as a simple action. A simple, foolish action-- but risk a little, live a lot. Leaning to the side he rests more weight on the hand still propping him up, bending at the elbow just enough so that he could close the cap. It's brief, perhaps a bit sweeter than he had intended, but he wasn't going to start snogging a man he wasn't entirely sure shared his affections. He wasn't even sure how this worked with men; Charles had experience chasing skirts-- but Erik acted very little like a woman, and he was sure he wouldn't take kindly to being treated like one. Even with that bridged connection, Charles was admittedly... a little afraid. ]
[ There's a waver behind his eyes-- some fluctuation of tenderness, because God, this is Charles-- and it's been so long since anyone cared enough to get that close to him-- and there's uncertainty at first as to exactly how to approach this; some part of him nags for caution. He doesn't kiss back; but a hand closes on the other man's wrist, thumb pressed to the pulse that's faster than he knows it should be. There's no denying this; it's been there since the night in the Atlantic ocean-- for what else, other than this, would a man throw himself into such cold, unknown water?
Some rigid, enclosed space in his chest gives; and Erik glances down, still with that lightly intense composure that never fails him-- but now there's something joining it, and the corner of his mouth curves upwards, The Great Gatsby lying entirely forgotten on the covers. The initial surprise is quick to fade; though that disbelief clings fast-- and with it a sense of the most immediate respite. Everything had been so close to the surface between them; and still they had managed to ignore it, and the carefully avoided touches make sense to him now-- the false sort of brotherhood that they'd been fostering had just been in place of this. No one has known him as intimately as Charles-- to experience every terrible memory and notion that racked his brain in a single instant would have, he assumes, sent most sane people reeling from him-- irreparably destroying the relationship.
With a long exhalation he looks up at the telepath, glance softening at the nervous tension he can see so obviously in the man's posture-- there's a grave steadiness to his own voice when he speaks. ] It's alright, Charles.
[ Erik's fingers stay curled around the bony wrist; the pad of his thumb tracking across the pale blue veins; so fine and still sturdy. Attention dropping down from Charles' gaze, his eyes skid across the stripe of color of the other's mouth-- and unintentionally his hand closes further around his wrist; not an attempt to reassure him, Erik's too remote for that, but it's instinctive; prevents him from moving away again. His fingertips imprint in the warm skin. ]
[ It was probably for the best Erik kept some sort of a hold on Charles or the man might of fled; not that he was really one for running away-- far too stubborn usually-- but the swell of embarrassment that echoed through him was enough for him to attempt to put a reasonable distance between them in hopes of explaining his actions later. This was new territory and the lack of any real return-- any pressure on Erik's end is disheartening; even with the small smile and that represented heavy tone to his words Charles can't help but feel the constriction in his chest. He was such a foolish, foolish man. He should have known not to bridge the gap like that, things had been fine as they were but Charles had never really been able to settle for good enough. ]
Of course, [ His words are soft, withdrawn, because while he can't pull away physically he can sink back into himself otherwise. He's never had a relationship quite like this-- not even the one he had developed with Raven-- something that had struck him so hard, so deeply and settled so close to the core of who he was. Someone he could fight with daily and still forgive in the evenings and yet-- and yet perhaps it was only him. Perhaps he was the only one who felt that pull-- at least so strongly; because there was undeniably something there; but perhaps it was not the same something for the both of them. The sound of the thudding he realized wasn't from some external source but the light echoing of his heartbeat against his ears. It wasn't painfully loud, not the same thrum of fear, but just enough to remind him of the constant constriction over his heart. ] Just--
[ There's a pause as his tone wavers, and he has to force some control down on himself. Charles wasn't the sort of person who could hide as easily as Erik; he was too open, too expressive, because his life had been run on drive and passion and for all of his science he wasn't a clinical man himself-- not entirely. Sure there were less than savory actions, but all for the greater good as far as he was concerned. Pushing to make things better for their kind, for them; to form some sort of secondary family-- and perhaps that's part of what has caused this leap on his part. The idea of a family they've formed themselves, the different ranks taken by each person, the places they've settled into with helping the children-- perhaps he's let it all lead him down the wrong path. A shallow puff of air as he tries to pull his wrist upward, ] If you'll let me go, I'll leave you to rest.
[ The hold does not loosen, and Erik’s loathe to allow him that space-- very much aware of the tug; how Charles is bound to retreat if he allows him that distance to do so. There is no immediate questioning in him as to how this could change things between them; because at the heart of the matter, Erik actually wants this, craves that one further step; to take that final pace forward after the weeks of carefully edging around what was so clearly simmering; the haze of misinterpreted and misunderstood tension that they’d been fostering over the hours they spent together. The man’s ideals had the potential to drive him half insane with that combination of frustration and worry, because no one could possibly be so naive, or trusting; had he not seen the images splayed across Erik’s mind that night? He could push and push at that patience, and still have Charles remain close by-- fuming in all likelihood, but never managing to push him away entirely.
The thrum of the other man’s pulse quickens beneath his fingers, and he does not loosen them yet, not wishing to force this, but unclear as how not to. On some level he knows this ought to be handled with delicacy, but he lacks the tact-- unschooled in how to receive that ebb and flow of another person’s-- mutant’s-- complex emotions. ]
Yes-- [ And he does let go now, albeit reluctantly. But, incongruously, the same hand extends towards the other man again, as if intended to catch the hem of his sweater. ] Charles, wait. [ Erik’s stoically intense attention is absolutely focused on the telepath, and still with that closed-off sense of gravitas. He moves, pushing forward to encroach now, one hand planted behind him, the other hovering uncertainly in the air between them. The warning in his own thoughts is silenced by the other man’s proximity; he has no business initiating something like this-- he’d hurt Charles, separate them, surely-- Shaw would take precedence, the mission-- but he’s driven to ignore it-- too drawn in to leave. ]
Look at me. [ It’s barely a request, though there is no strain of command; just a note of patience-- and he pauses understanding the need to reciprocate. ]
[ His shifting, the beginnings of a forward movement, are halted by the request-- however much he desires to ignore it, as if he hasn't heard, Charles finds he doesn't have it in himself to do so. Eyes drifting from object to object on the walls, while it had been a room offered to Erik, it seemed to have little difference in decor from before the man had come to stay. He knew it was all part of his personality, able to uproot and move at any time needed, no trivial things dragged along for aesthetics. He traces the lines of the wood flooring along the wall, a fleeting glance given to the door that accompanies a pang of longing. Not just for Erik, but for the sense to have stopped himself moments earlier, or perhaps minutes before he had dared cross the threshold of his room in the late evening hours.
Jaw muscles flex and tighten, visible just below his ear in a moment of tension when he's asked to return that steady gaze. He rarely runs from things, but he wants to escape this. Not that he can blame Erik, not even if he wanted to could he-- the man had hardly asked to be barged in on. Charles had just been working with what he felt, what he assumed Erik felt, and while he had promised to stay out of the man's mind it was a pestering thought because he had just wanted to know so badly. To not be alone in those feelings he was acutely aware were as abnormal as most everything else about him. He had never worried about these sort of sentiments before they had met, the rarest flicker of curiosity hardly more than a fleeting moment of distraction from his education or sister. Anything that might allude to something unusual about himself in this context easily dismissed as a biological norm, because there had been no real connection-- attraction-- there.
His chest sinks in, as if the air is being pushed from his lungs, and in some ways it is; the weight of his own thoughts and emotions pressing against his rib cage. He steadies his expression, managing something he hopes reads as studious before he actually does meet Erik's gaze. The hand used to prop himself up curling into the bed, winding the sheets between his fingers and bunching them with the tide that rocked within his chest. ] Erik, I-- I'm sorry.
[ The other man's hesitancy-- his actual fear that by some cruel twist Erik does not return his sentiments-- causes a leap beneath his ribcage; some bone-deep and long beaten down sort of affection that he had only been half-conscious of. His own potential for it catches him off guard, the instantaneous need to reassure Charles; to finally return that fervent murmur that had pulled him out of his rage-filled deathwish the night off the Miami coast. That well used platitude of you're not alone-- it could be every sort of frivolous confession that he thought he was above, but there's a need for that now, perhaps, and this is Charles-- the fact still tinged with disbelief. Erik reaches out now, emboldened by his own certainty that this is right-- because when else would there be another chance?
It may be bad for them both, but there's the smallest off chance that it will not be-- and he's one for risks, so planting a firm hand on the other man's jaw; bringing their faces within several inches of each other-- ] Don't you dare apologize for this.
[ Despite his usual seriousness, there's something light mingling with it-- because it's been slow to dawn that he actually wants this, the thawing security that even the smallest gesture from the telepath can bring him. Thumb tracing a slow line that follows the line of the other man's cheek, Erik's eyes dip back to the curved mouth-- leaning further forward and pressing their lips together a second time; but there's none of the earlier chasteness; it's a certain movement-- and his fingers slip back to wind in the just-slightly overlong strands that frame Charles' face; the pads of his fingers dragging against the scalp. There's an ache of surety; and his mouth moves against the telepath's; deepening the contact and tugging him just barely closer. ]
[ His lips part with a soundless sigh, as if the simplest of touches could render him speechless; in this instance that seems to be true. The reddened skin of his lower lip wet as it was drawn in and then raked through his teeth, a nervous habit that played along with his constant need to touch his mouth. Currently, he found he wasn't able to move his hand from where it was bunched down into Erik's bed or the other which hovered uselessly near his knee. The trace of Erik's thumb along his cheek, the fingers moving into his hair, causes another intake of breath. It's like electric sparks to his skin, down his spine, and he he wonders if it's always felt that way-- or if it was just because Erik had taken up all of his focus.
When Erik leans in he doesn't entirely believe it till their lips are touching again. It was then he decides to just let go. Leaning forward a little he returns the kiss, he wanted that feeling again. Even if the frightened part of his mind, the one that always clung so tightly to the relationships he made in his life, worried briefly it wasn't entirely out of affection. That it was pity. But the logical part of his mind squashed it rather quickly, Erik wasn't the sort of man to do things out of pity, not even for Charles. The press of Erik's fingers only seemed to encourage him, his fingers slipping up from the bed where he had nearly crushed the feeling out of them with his grip. His hand doesn't grip onto Erik, worried about pushing the boundaries he had just remade when he crossed the last ones. Instead his fingers splay against Erik's chest, just gently pressing against him, feeling the warmth of his skin through fabric. ]
It's an entirely comfortable scene; a little incongruent with Erik's usual character-- but in the weeks at the mansion he has relaxed significantly, less on edge; and it could be that he's healing in some way, for the first time. The blanket is thrown over his knees, back propped against the padded headboard; hair and clothing rumpled from movement. A thumb slips between the pages, closing The Great Gatsby half-way. ] Something wrong?
Reply
Stepping around to the edge of the bed, he leaned himself against the foot board with a little huff of air passing his lips. ] Just not able to sleep, I wandered around for a bit but everything felt... [ He pauses, trying to gather the proper words, ] Everything seemed empty; I thought I'd come and see if you were awake.. [ He realizes then, that he sounds a bit silly and a light flush colors his cheeks but he laughs it off. ] I really have no idea why I showed up here; it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Reply
It is your house, after all. [ Shifting the book, tucking the inner flap of the dust cover to mark his page, Erik settles both hands on the covers-- seeming close to pensive. ] What would make you say it seems empty?
Reply
He clears his throat and quickly changes the subject, ] I see you're still awake...?
Reply
[ He sits back against the headboard, relaxing his posture, the book still held loosely in his hands. ] I don't think I'm going to be the most competent chess opponent, if was what you were originally out for.
Reply
I wasn't looking to drag you out of bed, [ He murmurs, looking a bit abashed, ] I simply came for a few moments of company. [ He sighs, and for a moment the lines of his face are more pronounced, that ever present youthful exuberance is lacking, the night had been long and wearing on Charles. ]
Reply
It's a new position to be placed in-- and he has not experienced Charles quite so uncomfortable, around himself of all people. There had been that initial awkwardness when they had met; and he had borne the brunt of the other man's eager friendship. It had begun on uneven footing, because Erik is no telepath, while Charles-- Charles knew everything about him. It had been disconcerting, though he had been as curious as the telepath-- and the mutual fascination had given way to genuine camaraderie. Erik watches, tongue running over his bottom lip before speaking. ] Relax, my friend.
[ He motions to the edge of the bed, a frown finally creasing his brow. ] Are you sure that everything is alright with you?
Reply
I am being truthful with you, my friend, I had just come for your company. I'm not sure why, it just seemed right.
Reply
Well, I'm glad you did. [ But he's still hesitant, although there's an answering smile sent the other's way. ]
Reply
Shifting up the bed from near the foot of it, and nearer to settling beside Erik's knees his brows knit together. Concern, or perhaps worry, flashing across his features as he lifted his gaze again. Charles, even with everything that he had experienced, had never really learned to stop wearing his heart on his sleeve. ] Erik, I--... [ He begins and then silences himself, because non of the things he has to say sound right, none of them express his thoughts so easily as a simple action. A simple, foolish action-- but risk a little, live a lot. Leaning to the side he rests more weight on the hand still propping him up, bending at the elbow just enough so that he could close the cap. It's brief, perhaps a bit sweeter than he had intended, but he wasn't going to start snogging a man he wasn't entirely sure shared his affections. He wasn't even sure how this worked with men; Charles had experience chasing skirts-- but Erik acted very little like a woman, and he was sure he wouldn't take kindly to being treated like one. Even with that bridged connection, Charles was admittedly... a little afraid. ]
That, just... that.
Reply
Some rigid, enclosed space in his chest gives; and Erik glances down, still with that lightly intense composure that never fails him-- but now there's something joining it, and the corner of his mouth curves upwards, The Great Gatsby lying entirely forgotten on the covers. The initial surprise is quick to fade; though that disbelief clings fast-- and with it a sense of the most immediate respite. Everything had been so close to the surface between them; and still they had managed to ignore it, and the carefully avoided touches make sense to him now-- the false sort of brotherhood that they'd been fostering had just been in place of this. No one has known him as intimately as Charles-- to experience every terrible memory and notion that racked his brain in a single instant would have, he assumes, sent most sane people reeling from him-- irreparably destroying the relationship.
With a long exhalation he looks up at the telepath, glance softening at the nervous tension he can see so obviously in the man's posture-- there's a grave steadiness to his own voice when he speaks. ] It's alright, Charles.
[ Erik's fingers stay curled around the bony wrist; the pad of his thumb tracking across the pale blue veins; so fine and still sturdy. Attention dropping down from Charles' gaze, his eyes skid across the stripe of color of the other's mouth-- and unintentionally his hand closes further around his wrist; not an attempt to reassure him, Erik's too remote for that, but it's instinctive; prevents him from moving away again. His fingertips imprint in the warm skin. ]
Reply
Of course, [ His words are soft, withdrawn, because while he can't pull away physically he can sink back into himself otherwise. He's never had a relationship quite like this-- not even the one he had developed with Raven-- something that had struck him so hard, so deeply and settled so close to the core of who he was. Someone he could fight with daily and still forgive in the evenings and yet-- and yet perhaps it was only him. Perhaps he was the only one who felt that pull-- at least so strongly; because there was undeniably something there; but perhaps it was not the same something for the both of them. The sound of the thudding he realized wasn't from some external source but the light echoing of his heartbeat against his ears. It wasn't painfully loud, not the same thrum of fear, but just enough to remind him of the constant constriction over his heart. ] Just--
[ There's a pause as his tone wavers, and he has to force some control down on himself. Charles wasn't the sort of person who could hide as easily as Erik; he was too open, too expressive, because his life had been run on drive and passion and for all of his science he wasn't a clinical man himself-- not entirely. Sure there were less than savory actions, but all for the greater good as far as he was concerned. Pushing to make things better for their kind, for them; to form some sort of secondary family-- and perhaps that's part of what has caused this leap on his part. The idea of a family they've formed themselves, the different ranks taken by each person, the places they've settled into with helping the children-- perhaps he's let it all lead him down the wrong path. A shallow puff of air as he tries to pull his wrist upward, ] If you'll let me go, I'll leave you to rest.
Reply
The thrum of the other man’s pulse quickens beneath his fingers, and he does not loosen them yet, not wishing to force this, but unclear as how not to. On some level he knows this ought to be handled with delicacy, but he lacks the tact-- unschooled in how to receive that ebb and flow of another person’s-- mutant’s-- complex emotions. ]
Yes-- [ And he does let go now, albeit reluctantly. But, incongruously, the same hand extends towards the other man again, as if intended to catch the hem of his sweater. ] Charles, wait. [ Erik’s stoically intense attention is absolutely focused on the telepath, and still with that closed-off sense of gravitas. He moves, pushing forward to encroach now, one hand planted behind him, the other hovering uncertainly in the air between them. The warning in his own thoughts is silenced by the other man’s proximity; he has no business initiating something like this-- he’d hurt Charles, separate them, surely-- Shaw would take precedence, the mission-- but he’s driven to ignore it-- too drawn in to leave. ]
Look at me. [ It’s barely a request, though there is no strain of command; just a note of patience-- and he pauses understanding the need to reciprocate. ]
Reply
Jaw muscles flex and tighten, visible just below his ear in a moment of tension when he's asked to return that steady gaze. He rarely runs from things, but he wants to escape this. Not that he can blame Erik, not even if he wanted to could he-- the man had hardly asked to be barged in on. Charles had just been working with what he felt, what he assumed Erik felt, and while he had promised to stay out of the man's mind it was a pestering thought because he had just wanted to know so badly. To not be alone in those feelings he was acutely aware were as abnormal as most everything else about him. He had never worried about these sort of sentiments before they had met, the rarest flicker of curiosity hardly more than a fleeting moment of distraction from his education or sister. Anything that might allude to something unusual about himself in this context easily dismissed as a biological norm, because there had been no real connection-- attraction-- there.
His chest sinks in, as if the air is being pushed from his lungs, and in some ways it is; the weight of his own thoughts and emotions pressing against his rib cage. He steadies his expression, managing something he hopes reads as studious before he actually does meet Erik's gaze. The hand used to prop himself up curling into the bed, winding the sheets between his fingers and bunching them with the tide that rocked within his chest. ] Erik, I-- I'm sorry.
Reply
It may be bad for them both, but there's the smallest off chance that it will not be-- and he's one for risks, so planting a firm hand on the other man's jaw; bringing their faces within several inches of each other-- ] Don't you dare apologize for this.
[ Despite his usual seriousness, there's something light mingling with it-- because it's been slow to dawn that he actually wants this, the thawing security that even the smallest gesture from the telepath can bring him. Thumb tracing a slow line that follows the line of the other man's cheek, Erik's eyes dip back to the curved mouth-- leaning further forward and pressing their lips together a second time; but there's none of the earlier chasteness; it's a certain movement-- and his fingers slip back to wind in the just-slightly overlong strands that frame Charles' face; the pads of his fingers dragging against the scalp. There's an ache of surety; and his mouth moves against the telepath's; deepening the contact and tugging him just barely closer. ]
Reply
When Erik leans in he doesn't entirely believe it till their lips are touching again. It was then he decides to just let go. Leaning forward a little he returns the kiss, he wanted that feeling again. Even if the frightened part of his mind, the one that always clung so tightly to the relationships he made in his life, worried briefly it wasn't entirely out of affection. That it was pity. But the logical part of his mind squashed it rather quickly, Erik wasn't the sort of man to do things out of pity, not even for Charles. The press of Erik's fingers only seemed to encourage him, his fingers slipping up from the bed where he had nearly crushed the feeling out of them with his grip. His hand doesn't grip onto Erik, worried about pushing the boundaries he had just remade when he crossed the last ones. Instead his fingers splay against Erik's chest, just gently pressing against him, feeling the warmth of his skin through fabric. ]
Reply
Leave a comment