Experimental Truth
Characters: Erik Lensherr/Charles Xavier
Word Count: 1590
Disclaimer: I hold no rights to any thing Marvel or X-Men related, and although I'd love to watch James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender get jiggy with it, I'm fully aware this will most likely only happen in my fevered imagination. *le sigh*
Author's Notes: So I've seen the film (haven't we all now?), and completely fallen in love with not just the X-men world that we've been given, but (obviously) Charles and Erik. This is set somewhere in the movie timeframe, clearly before everything goes pear-shaped for them. Unbeta'd and partially prompted by my Charles. As usual any mistakes are my own.
The sudden throat clearing from the other side of the room told him that experiment number one had been a success. He held the image of his fingertips brushing against a taupe coloured shirt collar, thumb gently caressing a patch of pale skin in his mind for a few more seconds before letting it evaporate like smoke, smirking widely as the throat clearing changed to a cough.
If that got you coughing Charley-boy, this is going to be easier than I imagined.
“Are you okay, Charles? Do you need a glass of water?”
“I’m… fine. Raven don’t fuss. Please.”
“But-…”
Erik tuned the brother-sister conversation out, re-focusing on Hank’s demonstration of his most recent breakthrough. The gawky scientist seemed to grow more enthusiastic with the attention and it took Erik a moment before he realised he was still grinning. Widely. And maybe bouncing slightly on his toes.
Poor Hank… I’m sorry but your genetic research isn’t that exciting. At least not right now.
The demonstration ended and Erik paused to hold the laboratory door open for the ladies in the group, gesturing with his head for Charles to follow them through. As he passed, the dark haired man in the taupe shirt murmured quietly without looking at him.
“My name. Is Charles.”
*
Hands on his knees in the ornamental garden at the rear of the mansion, Erik fought to catch his breath. These early morning runs, a habit he’d picked up as a young man in Poland, not only helped him stay fit but served as a way to clear and focus his mind. To give him a few brief moments of respite from the cold rage and turmoil that swirled continually inside him; that churning blackness that had powered his motives ever since he’d been taken ‘under the wing’ of Dr. Schmidt.
Only now the darkness swirled with something else. Something brighter but as equally intense that Erik still shied away from although he had his suspicions to its origins and cause.
Shaking his head and shoulders, looking to a casual observer as if he was merely stretching out his screaming muscles, but really to try to rid himself of the dark thoughts and retain some small piece of the calm he felt slipping away, Erik closed his eyes and smiled. A shower would be excellent right about now.
A shower. Hot, steaming, soapy… The touch of smooth skin under wet hands, coarse hair beneath fingertips, coarser still just below the soap slick navel… Hot water. Hotter, firmer flesh…
The sound of breaking crockery followed by a muttered - and husky - curse through the open kitchen window made him jump, even though he was expecting it.
Experiment number two? Roaring success.
*
It was just getting too damned easy now.
A mere fortnight later and he’d watched as Charley-boy, as he now insisted on thinking of him, had tripped up stairs, dropped cutlery on three separate occasions and stammered for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds during a spectacularly dull after-dinner speech for the big-wigs in the C.I.A.’s Research Division. Erik was especially proud of that particular experiment, as it had only involved a simple looped thought of his voice moaning Charley-boy’s name. Loudly and very, very hoarsely.
Even without the stammering and ever-so-cute flushed cheeks, the look on Charles’ face was prize enough. Notably the wide eyed glare aimed straight at him that was tinged with just a little too much arousal to be considered innocent.
After the dinner and remainder of the speeches had ended, Erik found himself on the balcony outside the library, the cool Westchester breeze blowing away the cobwebs and stuffiness from the mundane and power-centred chit chat behind him. He felt the presence behind him first; his gift immediately alerting him to the metal buttons, trouser zip and coins the man brought with him, even as the breeze delivered a now familiar scent to his nostrils.
“Evening, Charley-boy.”
“This is harassment, Erik. You have to stop doing it.”
His grin grew wider as he continued to look out over the gardens. “Harassment? Surely what you’re doing is an invasion of my mental privacy? You wouldn’t know what I was thinking if you weren’t continually looking…”
“Damnit, man! You know I have to-“
“Yes, I know you have to safeguard me and the team,” he cut in softly as he turned and stared down into Charles’ eyes. As usual he was taken aback by the multi-layered depths he could see in them; the usual calm and compassion for his fellow humans - gifts or no, that bright spark of ever present intelligence that the professor insisted was his true gift rather than his telepathic abilities, and something else. Something that Erik had only ever seen when Charles Xavier looked at him. Something locked down so quickly and tightly that at first he hadn’t been sure he’d seen correctly.
Hence the ‘experiments’.
“I know,” he repeated, partly in response to Charles and partly to his own suspicions. Now he knew. Now he was certain…
A quick glance into the brightly lit room behind them told him that, so far, neither of them had been missed. The raucous, brandy fuelled laughter also told him it was unlikely they’d be missed anytime soon either. He grabbed the younger man by the arm and pulled him towards the darkest part of the balcony, pushing the nearest metal framed patio doors closed with a gentle click.
“I also know that you’re getting sloppy, Xavier.” When the other man’s brows drew down in confusion, mouth beginning to open in either question or protest, Erik held his gaze, concentrating hard on the memory of what he’d ‘seen’ two nights ago. Although the images were still strong in his mind Erik was fairly certain that the now quiet man in front of him was trying desperately not to use his gift, so he grabbed Charles’ hand and held his fingers up against his temple. Charles would see this, just like he had.
The breathing came through first. Slow and deep and soft with just a sense that he was still trying to maintain some control. A whisper that could be felt inside as much as heard. Then came the images - quick staccato flashes that were dizzying to begin with, too much like looking in mirrors or at moving photographs that were just as suddenly snatched away. Smiles, laughter, scowls, a dozen different expressions and stolen glances from the corner of his eye. A slow motion parade of... Erik. The breathing becoming steadily more laboured, arousal clear and control stuttering as more and more images flood through. A glimpse of bare shoulder… a heavily muscled naked back… thighs moving as legs run past… E… rik… Panting. Sighing. A whimper… Then suddenly images that weren’t based in reality but fantasy. A face contorted in pleasure and pain. Hands caressing soft and sensitive flesh. A voice - Erik’s voice - crying out loudly, just as his voice - Charles’ voice - cried out at the same time. Then nothing but dazzling white and a sensation of flying or falling… Falling…
Blinking hard, Erik wondered briefly if he was still in the tangle of Charles’ projected thoughts from that night, the sounds and feelings too similar, too close to what he’d felt then. Slowly though, the noise from inside the mansion invaded the quiet bubble, and his vision cleared enough to see the top of Charles’ head below him, the dark hair that smelt so much like summer - soft and warm and comforting - against his cheek, warm fingers barely touching his own. But they were still there. Against his.
“Erik. I... Sorry.”
“Shut up, Xavier. Charles. If I’d known that you were wanking to thoughts of me I’d have upped the stakes weeks ago,” he chuckled, pressing his lips tenderly against the hair before reluctantly pulling back, a hand under the younger man’s chin to lift his face up. If Erik had thought the flush of earlier was adorable on Charles’ features, he knew in that moment that what he saw now would remain with him for much, much longer. Including the wide-eyed fish impression…
“I… B-but…”
“Maybe I wasn’t clear, Charley-boy,” he said sternly though the grin on his face took most of the sting out his words. “I said… Shut. Up.” Each of the last two words were punctuated by a touch of his lips to fluttering eyelids before his mouth moved lower to finally capture the mouth he’d spent hours of his own staring at and fantasising about. He felt a vibration as Charles tried to speak again and just moved his mouth harder, tongue slipping between open, welcoming lips to tease as he pressed his hips firmly against the hardness that matched his own, moaning as he felt fingers tangle and tighten in his hair.
Pulling away before he lost all common sense and fucked Charles right here in on the balcony in front of their guests and students, Erik breathed deeply, staring down as dark lust blown eyes stared right back up at him.
“Next time,” he whispered hoarsely as they both adjusted clothing and worked to regulate their ragged breathing. “Next time, Charles Xavier, that you want to project your dirty wanking fantasies, you call me first and I’ll give you something worth projecting.”
Experiment number fifteen. Full and total success. On every level.
Word Count: 1590
Disclaimer: I hold no rights to any thing Marvel or X-Men related, and although I'd love to watch James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender get jiggy with it, I'm fully aware this will most likely only happen in my fevered imagination. *le sigh*
Author's Notes: So I've seen the film (haven't we all now?), and completely fallen in love with not just the X-men world that we've been given, but (obviously) Charles and Erik. This is set somewhere in the movie timeframe, clearly before everything goes pear-shaped for them. Unbeta'd and partially prompted by my Charles. As usual any mistakes are my own.
The sudden throat clearing from the other side of the room told him that experiment number one had been a success. He held the image of his fingertips brushing against a taupe coloured shirt collar, thumb gently caressing a patch of pale skin in his mind for a few more seconds before letting it evaporate like smoke, smirking widely as the throat clearing changed to a cough.
If that got you coughing Charley-boy, this is going to be easier than I imagined.
“Are you okay, Charles? Do you need a glass of water?”
“I’m… fine. Raven don’t fuss. Please.”
“But-…”
Erik tuned the brother-sister conversation out, re-focusing on Hank’s demonstration of his most recent breakthrough. The gawky scientist seemed to grow more enthusiastic with the attention and it took Erik a moment before he realised he was still grinning. Widely. And maybe bouncing slightly on his toes.
Poor Hank… I’m sorry but your genetic research isn’t that exciting. At least not right now.
The demonstration ended and Erik paused to hold the laboratory door open for the ladies in the group, gesturing with his head for Charles to follow them through. As he passed, the dark haired man in the taupe shirt murmured quietly without looking at him.
“My name. Is Charles.”
*
Hands on his knees in the ornamental garden at the rear of the mansion, Erik fought to catch his breath. These early morning runs, a habit he’d picked up as a young man in Poland, not only helped him stay fit but served as a way to clear and focus his mind. To give him a few brief moments of respite from the cold rage and turmoil that swirled continually inside him; that churning blackness that had powered his motives ever since he’d been taken ‘under the wing’ of Dr. Schmidt.
Only now the darkness swirled with something else. Something brighter but as equally intense that Erik still shied away from although he had his suspicions to its origins and cause.
Shaking his head and shoulders, looking to a casual observer as if he was merely stretching out his screaming muscles, but really to try to rid himself of the dark thoughts and retain some small piece of the calm he felt slipping away, Erik closed his eyes and smiled. A shower would be excellent right about now.
A shower. Hot, steaming, soapy… The touch of smooth skin under wet hands, coarse hair beneath fingertips, coarser still just below the soap slick navel… Hot water. Hotter, firmer flesh…
The sound of breaking crockery followed by a muttered - and husky - curse through the open kitchen window made him jump, even though he was expecting it.
Experiment number two? Roaring success.
*
It was just getting too damned easy now.
A mere fortnight later and he’d watched as Charley-boy, as he now insisted on thinking of him, had tripped up stairs, dropped cutlery on three separate occasions and stammered for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds during a spectacularly dull after-dinner speech for the big-wigs in the C.I.A.’s Research Division. Erik was especially proud of that particular experiment, as it had only involved a simple looped thought of his voice moaning Charley-boy’s name. Loudly and very, very hoarsely.
Even without the stammering and ever-so-cute flushed cheeks, the look on Charles’ face was prize enough. Notably the wide eyed glare aimed straight at him that was tinged with just a little too much arousal to be considered innocent.
After the dinner and remainder of the speeches had ended, Erik found himself on the balcony outside the library, the cool Westchester breeze blowing away the cobwebs and stuffiness from the mundane and power-centred chit chat behind him. He felt the presence behind him first; his gift immediately alerting him to the metal buttons, trouser zip and coins the man brought with him, even as the breeze delivered a now familiar scent to his nostrils.
“Evening, Charley-boy.”
“This is harassment, Erik. You have to stop doing it.”
His grin grew wider as he continued to look out over the gardens. “Harassment? Surely what you’re doing is an invasion of my mental privacy? You wouldn’t know what I was thinking if you weren’t continually looking…”
“Damnit, man! You know I have to-“
“Yes, I know you have to safeguard me and the team,” he cut in softly as he turned and stared down into Charles’ eyes. As usual he was taken aback by the multi-layered depths he could see in them; the usual calm and compassion for his fellow humans - gifts or no, that bright spark of ever present intelligence that the professor insisted was his true gift rather than his telepathic abilities, and something else. Something that Erik had only ever seen when Charles Xavier looked at him. Something locked down so quickly and tightly that at first he hadn’t been sure he’d seen correctly.
Hence the ‘experiments’.
“I know,” he repeated, partly in response to Charles and partly to his own suspicions. Now he knew. Now he was certain…
A quick glance into the brightly lit room behind them told him that, so far, neither of them had been missed. The raucous, brandy fuelled laughter also told him it was unlikely they’d be missed anytime soon either. He grabbed the younger man by the arm and pulled him towards the darkest part of the balcony, pushing the nearest metal framed patio doors closed with a gentle click.
“I also know that you’re getting sloppy, Xavier.” When the other man’s brows drew down in confusion, mouth beginning to open in either question or protest, Erik held his gaze, concentrating hard on the memory of what he’d ‘seen’ two nights ago. Although the images were still strong in his mind Erik was fairly certain that the now quiet man in front of him was trying desperately not to use his gift, so he grabbed Charles’ hand and held his fingers up against his temple. Charles would see this, just like he had.
The breathing came through first. Slow and deep and soft with just a sense that he was still trying to maintain some control. A whisper that could be felt inside as much as heard. Then came the images - quick staccato flashes that were dizzying to begin with, too much like looking in mirrors or at moving photographs that were just as suddenly snatched away. Smiles, laughter, scowls, a dozen different expressions and stolen glances from the corner of his eye. A slow motion parade of... Erik. The breathing becoming steadily more laboured, arousal clear and control stuttering as more and more images flood through. A glimpse of bare shoulder… a heavily muscled naked back… thighs moving as legs run past… E… rik… Panting. Sighing. A whimper… Then suddenly images that weren’t based in reality but fantasy. A face contorted in pleasure and pain. Hands caressing soft and sensitive flesh. A voice - Erik’s voice - crying out loudly, just as his voice - Charles’ voice - cried out at the same time. Then nothing but dazzling white and a sensation of flying or falling… Falling…
Blinking hard, Erik wondered briefly if he was still in the tangle of Charles’ projected thoughts from that night, the sounds and feelings too similar, too close to what he’d felt then. Slowly though, the noise from inside the mansion invaded the quiet bubble, and his vision cleared enough to see the top of Charles’ head below him, the dark hair that smelt so much like summer - soft and warm and comforting - against his cheek, warm fingers barely touching his own. But they were still there. Against his.
“Erik. I... Sorry.”
“Shut up, Xavier. Charles. If I’d known that you were wanking to thoughts of me I’d have upped the stakes weeks ago,” he chuckled, pressing his lips tenderly against the hair before reluctantly pulling back, a hand under the younger man’s chin to lift his face up. If Erik had thought the flush of earlier was adorable on Charles’ features, he knew in that moment that what he saw now would remain with him for much, much longer. Including the wide-eyed fish impression…
“I… B-but…”
“Maybe I wasn’t clear, Charley-boy,” he said sternly though the grin on his face took most of the sting out his words. “I said… Shut. Up.” Each of the last two words were punctuated by a touch of his lips to fluttering eyelids before his mouth moved lower to finally capture the mouth he’d spent hours of his own staring at and fantasising about. He felt a vibration as Charles tried to speak again and just moved his mouth harder, tongue slipping between open, welcoming lips to tease as he pressed his hips firmly against the hardness that matched his own, moaning as he felt fingers tangle and tighten in his hair.
Pulling away before he lost all common sense and fucked Charles right here in on the balcony in front of their guests and students, Erik breathed deeply, staring down as dark lust blown eyes stared right back up at him.
“Next time,” he whispered hoarsely as they both adjusted clothing and worked to regulate their ragged breathing. “Next time, Charles Xavier, that you want to project your dirty wanking fantasies, you call me first and I’ll give you something worth projecting.”
Experiment number fifteen. Full and total success. On every level.