Small Fic: Accompanied By Unease
pearl-o was saying she wanted performance anxiety fic - and so there is this:
***
Title: Accompanied By Unease
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: Performance anxiety and feelings - and for once, Charles says the right thing.
Word Count: ~800
Erik is as red as Charles has ever seen him and the waves of shame and humiliation coming off of him are making Charles feel physically sick. His own erection is flagging in sympathy and while he would usually, with any other partner, try to find some degree of humor in the situation, he knows Erik well enough to know: if Charles laughs now, he may very well never see Erik again at all, much less see him naked.
Charles sits up, tugs the clean white sheet up into his lap so there's some small barrier, some small protective gesture sheilding Erik when Charles leans against the lean expanse of muscular back Erik is showing him. Erik is poised, sitting on the edge of the bed, ready to flee. It's only embarassment that has him frozen there, Charles knows - if he gives Erik too much time to gather his mental armor around him, Erik will slip through his fingers.
It's not the easiest relationship Charles has ever pursued - but, then, he hasn't actually pursued many relationships. And this one is important; Charles thinks it is already more important than he could have imagined when he pulled Erik from the sea and recognized that Erik was...everything.
It's just that Charles has a history of saying the wrong thing. He can't ever seem to manage the right words with Raven and if he doesn't get this perfect - Charles refuses to think about the consequences. Not saying anything will be just as bad as saying the wrong thing. He slips an arm around Erik's waist, leans his head on Erik's shoulder.
"Darling, I..." It's not actually about him. Charles changes tactics. "Will you lay here with me?"
That catches Erik off guard. HIs head turns, enough to actually look at Charles. There's something in him still yearning for touch, for contact with Charles's skin and Charles presses that advantage, kisses Erik's shoulder blade with soft, open lips. "Just lay down with me for a while."
Erik nods, a jerky motion full of the tension still holding him taut as a cable. Charles shifts back, gives him room, and Erik eases back onto the bed like he's prepared to jump up and run at any point.
Which is a fair assessment, Charles thinks, because that's exactly what Erik is ready to do. Instead of objecting or urging Erik to relax, Charles arranges himself, warm and comfortable, against Erik's side. He drapes one arm up over Erik's chest, careful to make it light and welcoming rather than restraining in any way.
It takes a long and steady count to one thousand in Charles's head before Erik shudders and relaxes, the expectations he had braced himself against finally giving up in the face of Charles's steady presence.
Right. Charles gives it a few more peaceful moments, until a restless edge sharpens Erik's mind. Now he really does need to find the right things to say.
"When I had to defend my dissertation, before I could go and begin, I threw up on my own shoes." Charles keeps his hands light, strokes what skin he can reach on Erik's chest and arms. "I was fine, once I'd thrown up, though I was quite fond of those shoes. I was sad to see them in the trash bin."
Erik's chuckle in response is heavy and sardonic. "I'm not sure that's a viable solution for my problem, Charles."
That warrants an eye roll of the highest caliber - it's a shame Erik can't actually see it. Charles tilts his head up, but doesn't repeat the gesture; that sort of thing can't be forced, after all. "But the spirit remains true, don't you think?" Charles lets one hand drift lower, wanders his fingers over the muscles of Erik's abdomen.
"The spirit of you having a weak stomach?" Erik is holding himself still under Charles's fingers and his voice is controlled, dry as the desert. But there are tell-tale twitches of the underlying musculature that Charles finds fascinating. He thinks Erik is ticklish and he wants to investigate that further.
Instead, he pinches Erik's hip in retaliation. "The spirit of nerves having physical consequences when things matter."
Charles thinks he's gotten it wrong when Erik shifts, retreats from Charles's light embrace enough to sit back up. But Erik isn't climbing out of bed. He's looking down at Charles with the same kind of confused surprise he'd worn that first day, when Erik had learned he was not alone.
The moment doesn't last long - Charles holds it in his memory, cements it there so he'll never forget it. And then Erik is laying back down, an exasperated sigh enough to signal to Charles that he's gotten it right, that he's said the right thing.
They'll try again later. It will be better.
***
Title: Accompanied By Unease
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: Performance anxiety and feelings - and for once, Charles says the right thing.
Word Count: ~800
Erik is as red as Charles has ever seen him and the waves of shame and humiliation coming off of him are making Charles feel physically sick. His own erection is flagging in sympathy and while he would usually, with any other partner, try to find some degree of humor in the situation, he knows Erik well enough to know: if Charles laughs now, he may very well never see Erik again at all, much less see him naked.
Charles sits up, tugs the clean white sheet up into his lap so there's some small barrier, some small protective gesture sheilding Erik when Charles leans against the lean expanse of muscular back Erik is showing him. Erik is poised, sitting on the edge of the bed, ready to flee. It's only embarassment that has him frozen there, Charles knows - if he gives Erik too much time to gather his mental armor around him, Erik will slip through his fingers.
It's not the easiest relationship Charles has ever pursued - but, then, he hasn't actually pursued many relationships. And this one is important; Charles thinks it is already more important than he could have imagined when he pulled Erik from the sea and recognized that Erik was...everything.
It's just that Charles has a history of saying the wrong thing. He can't ever seem to manage the right words with Raven and if he doesn't get this perfect - Charles refuses to think about the consequences. Not saying anything will be just as bad as saying the wrong thing. He slips an arm around Erik's waist, leans his head on Erik's shoulder.
"Darling, I..." It's not actually about him. Charles changes tactics. "Will you lay here with me?"
That catches Erik off guard. HIs head turns, enough to actually look at Charles. There's something in him still yearning for touch, for contact with Charles's skin and Charles presses that advantage, kisses Erik's shoulder blade with soft, open lips. "Just lay down with me for a while."
Erik nods, a jerky motion full of the tension still holding him taut as a cable. Charles shifts back, gives him room, and Erik eases back onto the bed like he's prepared to jump up and run at any point.
Which is a fair assessment, Charles thinks, because that's exactly what Erik is ready to do. Instead of objecting or urging Erik to relax, Charles arranges himself, warm and comfortable, against Erik's side. He drapes one arm up over Erik's chest, careful to make it light and welcoming rather than restraining in any way.
It takes a long and steady count to one thousand in Charles's head before Erik shudders and relaxes, the expectations he had braced himself against finally giving up in the face of Charles's steady presence.
Right. Charles gives it a few more peaceful moments, until a restless edge sharpens Erik's mind. Now he really does need to find the right things to say.
"When I had to defend my dissertation, before I could go and begin, I threw up on my own shoes." Charles keeps his hands light, strokes what skin he can reach on Erik's chest and arms. "I was fine, once I'd thrown up, though I was quite fond of those shoes. I was sad to see them in the trash bin."
Erik's chuckle in response is heavy and sardonic. "I'm not sure that's a viable solution for my problem, Charles."
That warrants an eye roll of the highest caliber - it's a shame Erik can't actually see it. Charles tilts his head up, but doesn't repeat the gesture; that sort of thing can't be forced, after all. "But the spirit remains true, don't you think?" Charles lets one hand drift lower, wanders his fingers over the muscles of Erik's abdomen.
"The spirit of you having a weak stomach?" Erik is holding himself still under Charles's fingers and his voice is controlled, dry as the desert. But there are tell-tale twitches of the underlying musculature that Charles finds fascinating. He thinks Erik is ticklish and he wants to investigate that further.
Instead, he pinches Erik's hip in retaliation. "The spirit of nerves having physical consequences when things matter."
Charles thinks he's gotten it wrong when Erik shifts, retreats from Charles's light embrace enough to sit back up. But Erik isn't climbing out of bed. He's looking down at Charles with the same kind of confused surprise he'd worn that first day, when Erik had learned he was not alone.
The moment doesn't last long - Charles holds it in his memory, cements it there so he'll never forget it. And then Erik is laying back down, an exasperated sigh enough to signal to Charles that he's gotten it right, that he's said the right thing.
They'll try again later. It will be better.