Fic: Indelible, X-Men: First Class, Charles/Erik
Title: Indelible
Author: Claire
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 745
Summary: If I took you right here, could you stop them from seeing?
Notes: Written for this prompt in 1stclass_kink
Indelible
"Oh god, Erik--" Charles's hands curl around the top of the wall in front of him as Erik's fingers slide into his body, teeth biting into his lower lip to stop the moan at the careful twist and curl inside of him.
"Ah-ah, Charles--" Erik's voice is soft, smooth as he murmurs against Charles's skin, so low Charles can barely hear him as anything other than a whisper across his mind. "You have to stay quiet, remember. Don't want the children to hear--"
Don't want the children to look over and see him-- oh god, see him, legs spread and pushing back into Erik's touch, like he's the only thing anchoring Charles to here and now. See him legs spread and two seconds away from begging like a wanton jezebel. See him two seconds away from begging, from pleading Erik to do something, anything, so long as he moves, so long as he--
"Stay with me, Charles." Erik's other hand is on his stomach, moving under his shirt and fingertips drawing patterns Charles is sure he'd recognise if he could only think-- "Stay with me--"
Because if he doesn't then everyone will see the two of them, clothes pushed aside just enough for access. Pushed aside because Erik had wondered and Charles hadn't said no. Because all Charles could hear was Erik's voice as he'd leant forward, the If I took you right here, could you stop them from seeing? dropping easily from his lips.
Erik's fingers press further inside him, slick and steady, and Charles can feel everyone around them, can feel Raven and Hank and Moira, and he wants to reach out, want to touch each of them, but the half-formed thought dies as Erik moves, pulling his fingers out of Charles and pressing inexorably closer.
"Ready, Charles?"
He wants to say yes, wants to say yes-- and now-- and please--, but the words are stuck in his throat, held there by something intangible. But he's never needed words to speak, not then and certainly not now. The Erik-- has barely faded from his mind before Erik is pushing inside, harder and heavier and more insistent then before.
And Charles doesn't know if the God-- and yes-- and mine-- spiralling around his head are his or Erik's, but it doesn't matter, not when Erik is inside, cleaving him open and there are fingers tangling with his against the stone. Not when Erik is moving, hips snapping forward and skin sliding over skin in a way that makes Charles want.
His fingers tighten around Erik's and Charles can feel it building inside him, pooling, low and heavy, in his stomach. And he wants to move his hand, wants to wrap his fingers around heated flesh in a way that's familiar and assured, but Erik's grip is holding him to the stone.
Erik-- Because he can't trust his voice.
But Erik's grip just tightens, the Like this-- sent back to him. Like this--, as Erik's stance shifts slightly. Like this--, as the angle changes and--
Oh, god--
It's bright and sharp as it pulses through Charles's body, bright and sharp as he spills himself into the fabric of the trousers still holding him captive. And Erik thrusts once, twice, before he stills behind him, moan muffled into Charles's shoulder.
There's a beat, two, before Erik moves, slipping out of Charles, and he can't help but wince, even if he's not too sure whether it's from the loss of Erik from his body, or from his mind.
"Well, I guess we found our answer," Erik says quietly, his hands moving over their clothes to rearrange them back into a semblance of propriety, nodding over to where Moira is standing barely twenty feet away from them and staring straight past them.
"That we did," Charles replies, grateful when Erik doesn't comment on the way the words break in the middle, the way Charles's voice sounds wrecked, even to himself.
Erik grins as he looks at Charles, leaning down and brushing his lips against Charles's cheek. "I suppose the question now is, how many people do you think is your limit and how do you feel about a trip into town this weekend?"
Charles pauses. How many people could he stop from seeing them? He's never tested it, so he doesn't know. He thinks it's going to be interesting finding out, though.
Author: Claire
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 745
Summary: If I took you right here, could you stop them from seeing?
Notes: Written for this prompt in 1stclass_kink
Indelible
"Oh god, Erik--" Charles's hands curl around the top of the wall in front of him as Erik's fingers slide into his body, teeth biting into his lower lip to stop the moan at the careful twist and curl inside of him.
"Ah-ah, Charles--" Erik's voice is soft, smooth as he murmurs against Charles's skin, so low Charles can barely hear him as anything other than a whisper across his mind. "You have to stay quiet, remember. Don't want the children to hear--"
Don't want the children to look over and see him-- oh god, see him, legs spread and pushing back into Erik's touch, like he's the only thing anchoring Charles to here and now. See him legs spread and two seconds away from begging like a wanton jezebel. See him two seconds away from begging, from pleading Erik to do something, anything, so long as he moves, so long as he--
"Stay with me, Charles." Erik's other hand is on his stomach, moving under his shirt and fingertips drawing patterns Charles is sure he'd recognise if he could only think-- "Stay with me--"
Because if he doesn't then everyone will see the two of them, clothes pushed aside just enough for access. Pushed aside because Erik had wondered and Charles hadn't said no. Because all Charles could hear was Erik's voice as he'd leant forward, the If I took you right here, could you stop them from seeing? dropping easily from his lips.
Erik's fingers press further inside him, slick and steady, and Charles can feel everyone around them, can feel Raven and Hank and Moira, and he wants to reach out, want to touch each of them, but the half-formed thought dies as Erik moves, pulling his fingers out of Charles and pressing inexorably closer.
"Ready, Charles?"
He wants to say yes, wants to say yes-- and now-- and please--, but the words are stuck in his throat, held there by something intangible. But he's never needed words to speak, not then and certainly not now. The Erik-- has barely faded from his mind before Erik is pushing inside, harder and heavier and more insistent then before.
And Charles doesn't know if the God-- and yes-- and mine-- spiralling around his head are his or Erik's, but it doesn't matter, not when Erik is inside, cleaving him open and there are fingers tangling with his against the stone. Not when Erik is moving, hips snapping forward and skin sliding over skin in a way that makes Charles want.
His fingers tighten around Erik's and Charles can feel it building inside him, pooling, low and heavy, in his stomach. And he wants to move his hand, wants to wrap his fingers around heated flesh in a way that's familiar and assured, but Erik's grip is holding him to the stone.
Erik-- Because he can't trust his voice.
But Erik's grip just tightens, the Like this-- sent back to him. Like this--, as Erik's stance shifts slightly. Like this--, as the angle changes and--
Oh, god--
It's bright and sharp as it pulses through Charles's body, bright and sharp as he spills himself into the fabric of the trousers still holding him captive. And Erik thrusts once, twice, before he stills behind him, moan muffled into Charles's shoulder.
There's a beat, two, before Erik moves, slipping out of Charles, and he can't help but wince, even if he's not too sure whether it's from the loss of Erik from his body, or from his mind.
"Well, I guess we found our answer," Erik says quietly, his hands moving over their clothes to rearrange them back into a semblance of propriety, nodding over to where Moira is standing barely twenty feet away from them and staring straight past them.
"That we did," Charles replies, grateful when Erik doesn't comment on the way the words break in the middle, the way Charles's voice sounds wrecked, even to himself.
Erik grins as he looks at Charles, leaning down and brushing his lips against Charles's cheek. "I suppose the question now is, how many people do you think is your limit and how do you feel about a trip into town this weekend?"
Charles pauses. How many people could he stop from seeing them? He's never tested it, so he doesn't know. He thinks it's going to be interesting finding out, though.