Red Sheets, Pale Skin
Title: Red Sheets, Pale Skin
Author: paracaerouvoar
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Word count: 1720
Rating: NC-17
Warning: umm... mansex? Does that even count as a warning in my journal? Really?
Summary: Fill over at 1stclass-kink for this prompt: It's hard being a mentor to a group of lost kids when your best friend keeps blatantly thinking about your ass.
Notes: This kind of got away from me. Oops.
Sucky title. I apologise. I also apologise for barely sticking to the prompt. There is neither mentoring, nor thinking about Charles' ass. But I tried and that counts, right?
The first time it happens, Charles is sure he imagines it.
He’s showing the kids round the mansion, letting Raven do most of the talking [if he’s being honest, she knows the place better than he does, even though he’d lived there almost a decade longer] and he’s watching Erik, just out of the corner of his eye. The taller man seemed reluctant to come along, at first, and he’s barely said two words, but he’s following behind, and once or twice Charles catches him looking vaguely interested.
They’re up on the top floor of the house, and Raven seems happy enough allocating bedrooms to the kids [he really has to stop calling them that, he thinks, they look barely younger than him], so he drops back and watches them.
Alex and Sean get rooms next to each other, just down the hall from Raven, and they grin, before heading inside, presumably to unpack. Hank, looking uncomfortable and thoroughly out of his depth smiles awkwardly when Raven gives him the room between hers and Charles’, and it’s only when his bedroom is mentioned that he gets a flash of something, an unfamiliar emotion that pools in his belly, a snapshot image of acres of pale skin, hands fisted in his hair. He flushes, red creeping up his neck, and he swings his head around to narrow his eyes at Erik, who’s leaning against the wall in his ever present leather jacket, glancing down the corridor, and very deliberately not meeting Charles’ eye. Raven’s still talking to Hank as he lingers in the door to his room, and Charles nudges her, reminding her Erik needs a room too.
With a smile that he doesn’t quite understand, she turns and gestures to Erik, and he and Charles follow her down the corridor, Charles slightly in front, and that’s when it happens again. He gets glimpses, longer ones this time of himself, laid out on dark red sheets, flushed and panting, eyes soft and unfocused, mouth fallen slightly open. He looks debauched, and he can feel himself blushing again.
He looks up at Erik, who’s walking beside him now, and glares at the taller man’s smirk.
Erik gets the room opposite Charles, and he heads inside without a word, shutting the door behind him. Raven looks like she’s about to say something, but Charles shakes his head, and suggests that she goes to see if Hank wants to see the grounds. It’s her turn to blush, and she hurries down the corridor towards the scientist’s room.
Charles turns back to face the closed door, and reaches out inside the room, just to see what Erik’s doing in there. He doesn’t want to walk in on anything… untoward, but then he asks himself what someone [even someone like Erik] could get up to in less than sixty seconds, and pushes the door open, silently slipping inside. Erik’s facing the window, jacket thrown on the chair beside him, and Charles sees him flinch when he pads up behind him, and hisses, ‘What the hell was that out there?’
Erik’s smirking again when he turns round. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t listen in to other people’s thoughts,’ he says, and Charles must be imagining the purring sound his words make.
‘Maybe you shouldn’t think so loud,’ he says, keeping his voice low.
Erik laughs, and it’s a deep sound that makes the unfamiliar emotion from before curl up in the place where his stomach meets his spine, and he realises that the emotion is lust, or something close to it.
‘The only people who’ll know are you and me.’ He bends over to whisper into Charles’ ear. ‘And I’m not telling anyone.’
The breath Charles takes after that is ragged and hitched, and makes Erik smile again. Images flash past him once more, images of himself stretched out on the sheets from before with Erik buried deep inside of him, Erik standing in front of him, all hard lines and lean, utilitarian muscle, Erik tugging on the soft flesh of his lower lip. ‘Stop it,’ he breathes, and realises he’s half hard already, backing away from Erik. Erik follows though, and grins, feral, when Charles’ back hits the door with a muffled thud. He bends over again, lips just millimetres from Charles’ ear.
‘Just stop listening then.’ Charles’ eyelids flutter closed, and his hips jump when Erik’s tongue flashes out and licks the shell of his ear. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t want this, Charles. I’m no mind reader, but I don’t need to hear your thoughts to see that you want this.’
Charles only reply is another jagged breath, and his eye slide open to see Erik’s face there, hovering inches from his lips. He looks to either side, and his head is framed by Erik’s hands. He’s never noticed before, but his friend’s hands are enormous, like spades, with long, piano player’s fingers. He licks his lips, nervously, and swallows. ‘Tell me you don’t want this, Charles, and I’ll back off. But I know you want it. Just tell me you want me.’ The last word is whispered, barely audible, and it sounds like liquid heat. Charles closes his eyes again, and nods, almost imperceptibly. He opens them again, and Erik is still standing there, watching him. His eyes look so very blue, Charles notes, and he licks his lips again. His throat is dry, and it hurts to swallow. He watches Erik’s tongue flicker out in a mirror of his own, wetting his lips, and Charles moves forward, presses his lips to Erik’s, and he thinks yes, as loudly and clearly as he can. He feels Erik smile against his lips, and his hands curve around the smaller man, one holding onto his hip, pushing him back against the door and the other snaking around to grip at the nape of his neck, pulling him in closer.
He dwarfs the smaller man, covering him with his body, and his tongue nudges at Charles’ lips. He parts them, and lets Erik in, tilting his head upward to deepen the kiss. His own hands are fumbling at the bigger man’s belt, as Erik starts kissing his way along Charles’ jawline and down his neck, sucking on the pulse point just under his ear. Charles makes a sound in the back of his throat, and Erik starts nipping at the bruised skin, rolling his hips against Charles’ groin suddenly. There’s a moan from Charles, and he forgets what he’s supposed to be doing for a second, and Erik takes the advantage to pull away and grip the back of his turtleneck, pulling it over his head and dropping it on the floor, and Charles is faced with the tanned skin and lean muscle of Erik’s thoughts, before he’s leaning in again, thrusting his tongue into Charles’ mouth again roughly, repeatedly, until it’s like he’s fucking his mouth with his tongue. He pulls at Charles’ belt, and the buttons on his shirt, pushing the undone cardigan over his shoulders until it’s on the floor behind him, and he’s running his hands under the half undone shirt. Charles shivers, and then he can feel Erik using his power, unfastening the metal buckle on both their belts, and the buttons on their trousers. He pushes Charles’ over his hips with his underwear, and then his own, stepping out of them and walking backwards towards the bed, slowly. Halfway there, he turns, using his body to swivel and manhandle Charles, who’s still joined to his at the mouth and the hips, and he’s so hard he’s struggling to walk. The back of his thighs hit the bed, and Erik pushes gently, and Charles falls backwards, landing on the sheets. He glances at them quickly, and they’re red, the same red from the thoughts Erik was projecting before, and he wonders, how the hell did Erik know that this would happen, exactly like this?
‘I scoped out the room earlier, Charles,’ Erik murmurs, sinking down between Charles’ legs and hovering above his cock, which is standing erect, red from arousal. His eyes are pinned to it, watching it bob, and he licks at the tip. Charles’ hips buck off the bed, and he whimpers, involuntary. Erik flattens one massive hand against Charles hips, holding him down on the bed as he licks along the shaft, making him squirm. He looks up through thick eyelashes to see Charles propped up on his elbows, staring at Erik down the lines of his body, and Erik has to swallow, take a deep breath, because Charles’ pupils are blown, and his lips are kiss swollen, and his chest is heaving, and Erik’s never seen him look more beautiful. He hums laughter when he suddenly opens his mouth and swallows Charles, right to the hilt, and there’s a cut off, strangled sound from Charles that vibrates his whole body. Erik works his throat, swallowing, and Charles’ hands are fisting in the sheets. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are screwed shut and his entire body is quivering. Erik swallows again, compulsively, and then freezes, completely still, before thinking, quiet and seductive, let go, Charles, and he does, gasping out Erik’s name as his back arches off the bed and he comes, deep down Erik’s throat, until he falls back onto the bed, limp, both men covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Erik slides off him, and there’s a string of saliva going from his lower lip to the head and he smiles and licks his lips, knowing that Charles is watching him through hooded eyes. He crawls up Charles’ body and kisses him, and knows that he’s tasting himself right now. They part, and he rolls over to Charles’ side and props himself up on one elbow, looking down at the flushed cheeks and the hair sticking to his forehead, and the blue eyes with the dilated pupils, and he smiles.
‘I have been waiting to do that to you for weeks’ he murmurs, and Charles smiles loosely, boneless.
‘Well, if you’re planning on doing it again, a little warning would be greatly appreciated,’ he sighs, eyes unfocused.
Erik chuckles again, and leans down to kiss him again, as chaste as a filthy, open mouthed kiss can be. But Charles, where would be the fun in that?
Author: paracaerouvoar
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Word count: 1720
Rating: NC-17
Warning: umm... mansex? Does that even count as a warning in my journal? Really?
Summary: Fill over at 1stclass-kink for this prompt: It's hard being a mentor to a group of lost kids when your best friend keeps blatantly thinking about your ass.
Notes: This kind of got away from me. Oops.
Sucky title. I apologise. I also apologise for barely sticking to the prompt. There is neither mentoring, nor thinking about Charles' ass. But I tried and that counts, right?
The first time it happens, Charles is sure he imagines it.
He’s showing the kids round the mansion, letting Raven do most of the talking [if he’s being honest, she knows the place better than he does, even though he’d lived there almost a decade longer] and he’s watching Erik, just out of the corner of his eye. The taller man seemed reluctant to come along, at first, and he’s barely said two words, but he’s following behind, and once or twice Charles catches him looking vaguely interested.
They’re up on the top floor of the house, and Raven seems happy enough allocating bedrooms to the kids [he really has to stop calling them that, he thinks, they look barely younger than him], so he drops back and watches them.
Alex and Sean get rooms next to each other, just down the hall from Raven, and they grin, before heading inside, presumably to unpack. Hank, looking uncomfortable and thoroughly out of his depth smiles awkwardly when Raven gives him the room between hers and Charles’, and it’s only when his bedroom is mentioned that he gets a flash of something, an unfamiliar emotion that pools in his belly, a snapshot image of acres of pale skin, hands fisted in his hair. He flushes, red creeping up his neck, and he swings his head around to narrow his eyes at Erik, who’s leaning against the wall in his ever present leather jacket, glancing down the corridor, and very deliberately not meeting Charles’ eye. Raven’s still talking to Hank as he lingers in the door to his room, and Charles nudges her, reminding her Erik needs a room too.
With a smile that he doesn’t quite understand, she turns and gestures to Erik, and he and Charles follow her down the corridor, Charles slightly in front, and that’s when it happens again. He gets glimpses, longer ones this time of himself, laid out on dark red sheets, flushed and panting, eyes soft and unfocused, mouth fallen slightly open. He looks debauched, and he can feel himself blushing again.
He looks up at Erik, who’s walking beside him now, and glares at the taller man’s smirk.
Erik gets the room opposite Charles, and he heads inside without a word, shutting the door behind him. Raven looks like she’s about to say something, but Charles shakes his head, and suggests that she goes to see if Hank wants to see the grounds. It’s her turn to blush, and she hurries down the corridor towards the scientist’s room.
Charles turns back to face the closed door, and reaches out inside the room, just to see what Erik’s doing in there. He doesn’t want to walk in on anything… untoward, but then he asks himself what someone [even someone like Erik] could get up to in less than sixty seconds, and pushes the door open, silently slipping inside. Erik’s facing the window, jacket thrown on the chair beside him, and Charles sees him flinch when he pads up behind him, and hisses, ‘What the hell was that out there?’
Erik’s smirking again when he turns round. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t listen in to other people’s thoughts,’ he says, and Charles must be imagining the purring sound his words make.
‘Maybe you shouldn’t think so loud,’ he says, keeping his voice low.
Erik laughs, and it’s a deep sound that makes the unfamiliar emotion from before curl up in the place where his stomach meets his spine, and he realises that the emotion is lust, or something close to it.
‘The only people who’ll know are you and me.’ He bends over to whisper into Charles’ ear. ‘And I’m not telling anyone.’
The breath Charles takes after that is ragged and hitched, and makes Erik smile again. Images flash past him once more, images of himself stretched out on the sheets from before with Erik buried deep inside of him, Erik standing in front of him, all hard lines and lean, utilitarian muscle, Erik tugging on the soft flesh of his lower lip. ‘Stop it,’ he breathes, and realises he’s half hard already, backing away from Erik. Erik follows though, and grins, feral, when Charles’ back hits the door with a muffled thud. He bends over again, lips just millimetres from Charles’ ear.
‘Just stop listening then.’ Charles’ eyelids flutter closed, and his hips jump when Erik’s tongue flashes out and licks the shell of his ear. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t want this, Charles. I’m no mind reader, but I don’t need to hear your thoughts to see that you want this.’
Charles only reply is another jagged breath, and his eye slide open to see Erik’s face there, hovering inches from his lips. He looks to either side, and his head is framed by Erik’s hands. He’s never noticed before, but his friend’s hands are enormous, like spades, with long, piano player’s fingers. He licks his lips, nervously, and swallows. ‘Tell me you don’t want this, Charles, and I’ll back off. But I know you want it. Just tell me you want me.’ The last word is whispered, barely audible, and it sounds like liquid heat. Charles closes his eyes again, and nods, almost imperceptibly. He opens them again, and Erik is still standing there, watching him. His eyes look so very blue, Charles notes, and he licks his lips again. His throat is dry, and it hurts to swallow. He watches Erik’s tongue flicker out in a mirror of his own, wetting his lips, and Charles moves forward, presses his lips to Erik’s, and he thinks yes, as loudly and clearly as he can. He feels Erik smile against his lips, and his hands curve around the smaller man, one holding onto his hip, pushing him back against the door and the other snaking around to grip at the nape of his neck, pulling him in closer.
He dwarfs the smaller man, covering him with his body, and his tongue nudges at Charles’ lips. He parts them, and lets Erik in, tilting his head upward to deepen the kiss. His own hands are fumbling at the bigger man’s belt, as Erik starts kissing his way along Charles’ jawline and down his neck, sucking on the pulse point just under his ear. Charles makes a sound in the back of his throat, and Erik starts nipping at the bruised skin, rolling his hips against Charles’ groin suddenly. There’s a moan from Charles, and he forgets what he’s supposed to be doing for a second, and Erik takes the advantage to pull away and grip the back of his turtleneck, pulling it over his head and dropping it on the floor, and Charles is faced with the tanned skin and lean muscle of Erik’s thoughts, before he’s leaning in again, thrusting his tongue into Charles’ mouth again roughly, repeatedly, until it’s like he’s fucking his mouth with his tongue. He pulls at Charles’ belt, and the buttons on his shirt, pushing the undone cardigan over his shoulders until it’s on the floor behind him, and he’s running his hands under the half undone shirt. Charles shivers, and then he can feel Erik using his power, unfastening the metal buckle on both their belts, and the buttons on their trousers. He pushes Charles’ over his hips with his underwear, and then his own, stepping out of them and walking backwards towards the bed, slowly. Halfway there, he turns, using his body to swivel and manhandle Charles, who’s still joined to his at the mouth and the hips, and he’s so hard he’s struggling to walk. The back of his thighs hit the bed, and Erik pushes gently, and Charles falls backwards, landing on the sheets. He glances at them quickly, and they’re red, the same red from the thoughts Erik was projecting before, and he wonders, how the hell did Erik know that this would happen, exactly like this?
‘I scoped out the room earlier, Charles,’ Erik murmurs, sinking down between Charles’ legs and hovering above his cock, which is standing erect, red from arousal. His eyes are pinned to it, watching it bob, and he licks at the tip. Charles’ hips buck off the bed, and he whimpers, involuntary. Erik flattens one massive hand against Charles hips, holding him down on the bed as he licks along the shaft, making him squirm. He looks up through thick eyelashes to see Charles propped up on his elbows, staring at Erik down the lines of his body, and Erik has to swallow, take a deep breath, because Charles’ pupils are blown, and his lips are kiss swollen, and his chest is heaving, and Erik’s never seen him look more beautiful. He hums laughter when he suddenly opens his mouth and swallows Charles, right to the hilt, and there’s a cut off, strangled sound from Charles that vibrates his whole body. Erik works his throat, swallowing, and Charles’ hands are fisting in the sheets. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are screwed shut and his entire body is quivering. Erik swallows again, compulsively, and then freezes, completely still, before thinking, quiet and seductive, let go, Charles, and he does, gasping out Erik’s name as his back arches off the bed and he comes, deep down Erik’s throat, until he falls back onto the bed, limp, both men covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Erik slides off him, and there’s a string of saliva going from his lower lip to the head and he smiles and licks his lips, knowing that Charles is watching him through hooded eyes. He crawls up Charles’ body and kisses him, and knows that he’s tasting himself right now. They part, and he rolls over to Charles’ side and props himself up on one elbow, looking down at the flushed cheeks and the hair sticking to his forehead, and the blue eyes with the dilated pupils, and he smiles.
‘I have been waiting to do that to you for weeks’ he murmurs, and Charles smiles loosely, boneless.
‘Well, if you’re planning on doing it again, a little warning would be greatly appreciated,’ he sighs, eyes unfocused.
Erik chuckles again, and leans down to kiss him again, as chaste as a filthy, open mouthed kiss can be. But Charles, where would be the fun in that?