(no subject)
Doing something I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do. I brought Fusion!Bones into XMFC. And it's odd that I find it disturbing/surprising when I like my own writing.
Waking up from the effects of those hypnotizing eyes made him feel just as groggy as the last time. Lids heavy, and refusing to cooperate, Erik took a moment to feel. His head had been pressed to side, and he was cradled against the hard plains of Leonard’s chest. He couldn’t feel the teeth in his neck, the area numb from Leonard’s saliva, but he could sense the pressure of the face so close to him.
He didn’t fight, he’d asked to do this, offered to. Wanted to lend what he could to Leonard’s life, a thank you of sorts.
His eye’s blinked open slowly, and his first sight was of Charles. Lounging in a chair feet away, seemingly at ease, but the agitated tick of his foot belied the confident air. He was observant, and wary, watching Leonard’s feeding with eye and mind.
The man behind him thrummed, and the rumble ran down the length of his body, making him groan.
Broad tanned hands stroked down his side, and Erik settled back into the firm body supporting him from behind. On the upstroke that same hand tucked a finger under the hem of his polo, lifting it slowly.
“Oh, Leonard,” Charles’ tone was bored, but his pupils were wide, taking in every motion and eyeing the exposed skin of Erik's abdomen, “Please do cease these forays into matchmaking. Your attempts are quite frankly, ham-handed.”
Leonard rumbled again, the sound running through Erik's muscles in pulsing waves. About halfway up his chest the tan hand ceased lifting his shirt and just slid his palm under it. Erik was starting to wonder if there wasn’t something else in Leonard saliva beside the numbing agent and anticoagulant, he'd never allowed himself to be played this way otherwise.
But it was possible that it was just Leonard. Leonard understood him in a way that Charles, with his good and shining will, never could. Leonard understood the dark and driving need, the desire to not sully what was good in the world and the pragmatic view on how rare that good truly was.
Charles was that good, and we circled him. An odd circling mating dance between he and Leonard in which Charles was our pole. A dance for his attentions and affections, and one which Leonard gracefully conceded to Erik every single time. Leonard showed him how that dance was to be done, showed him how to balance Charles light with his own sooty soul to keep them both safe; and then backed off.
But the want was a clear, shining light in his amber eyes.
How this man could have lived so long, attaching himself to people on the way, until they petered out against time before moving on. Erik would have gone mad. To watch his mother die was madness enough, but countless lovers....and children?
While Charles was a wellspring of hope, Leonard was the flexibility of time. And at some point Erik had stopped thinking of Leonard as a means to an end, and more a part of it.
Air tickled over his exposed collar bone as Leonard huffed at Charles' non-reaction to his teasing, and removed his hand. He sat up then, forcing Erik into a more upright position before removing his mouth from Erik's pale shoulder.
He still felt a little drowsy, and blinked slowly at Charles cheshire grin. "It's just the blood loss my friend, a bit of a nap and you'll be as good as new."
"And no strenuous activity for a couple days," Leonard grumbled is own addition, the gentle burr of his voice drowned out by the buzz of machine that he held over the wound. Both Erik and Charles watched in never ending fascination as the blue light sealed the puncture wounds.
After a cursitory lick and smirk from Leonard, Erik readjusted his polo, fastening the buttons with slow fingers. Sharp pairs of golden and blue eyes watched his movements, and a fissure of irritation riddled up his spine, "I'm fine."
Charles' smile was instantaneous, and he stood with Erik, off to the side, but close enough. The telepath would mother hen him all the way to his room. Erik might have feared Charles would even try and sit with him while he slept, but knew in his hindbrain that Leonard wouldn't let the blue eyed telepath hover too much.
He turned towards the door and his bed with Charles a cheerful shadow, and his pride sizzled like bacon in a hot skillet, ready to pop the unwary with boiling grease if they got to close. He didn't really want to hurt Charles, but he was no longer a child. Didn't need the care and attention, or the suffering closeness.
"Charles, where was that book you wanted me to read?" Leonard says, low and thick and sweet as that tea he makes that Charles hates. He glances away from Erik, confused and then acceptant when Leonard merely blinks at him, accepting the distraction for what it was meant to be.
And because Charles understands, thought he may not agree, he goes along with the ploy that everyone in the room can see through like glass, leaving the room to retrieve the book.
"Get a glass of orange juice before you lay down." Is all Leonard says before ignoring him like he is nothing more than molding on the wall.
And Erik isn't offended, because this is what he needs. Blind acceptance in his capability and strength, but just a hint of concern. An expression of care. Without the cloying flowers and sweetness.
He leaves the room and thinks as he picks up the glass of orange juice from the hall table, still cold from when Charles set it there, that he wished he could have them both. And what it would be like, as he climbed the stairs, in that perfect world.
:Who says you can not?: Was a whisper in his head as he shut his bedroom door.