XMMF Fic: Ultimatum (Scott/Erik), rated Adult. For Ion_Bond.
Title: Ultimatum
Author: Sionnain
’Verse: XMMF, set pre-movies.
Pairing: Scott/Erik (Cyclops/Magneto)
Rating: Adult
Warning: Non-con, angst. Please be advised of the warnings.
Summary: Scott wants Erik to make a choice.
AN: My thanks to artaxastra for a wonderful beta, and to eldee for also reading a draft of this. This was written for the occasion of Ion_Bond's birth, because I like to gift my friends with non-con fics for their birthday. O_o I hope you like this, Ion.
Ultimatum
The eagle suffers little birds to sing, And is not careful what they mean thereby. ---Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus
There is an address written on a piece of paper; Scott keeps it in his pocket even though he’s long since committed the words to memory. He even knows how to get there, because one day he drove downtown and took the subway until he was standing right in front of the building.
He saw a woman leaving, and he just knew she came from Erik’s apartment, even though he had no real reason to think that. It was irrational and it didn’t make sense, but he was just so convinced that he nearly approached the woman and asked what the hell did she think was doing? Scott had turned away instead without saying a word, heading home with a sick taste in his mouth and a migraine starting behind his eyes.
He’s never told Jean that he knows where Erik is, but he’s certain he doesn’t need to, not really. Jean probably already knows, anyway. Sometimes he catches her on the phone, looking guilty, and she’ll never tell him who’s called.
Those early days after the Accident-Scott thinks of it that way, with a capital A--things had been crazy enough that maybe he could have forgiven Jean for calling him. He can’t, though, not now, not when thing are better, not when they’re doing just fine without him.
There are still a lot of modifications to be done; ramps to be installed, bathrooms to be renovated, countless scenarios that have to be anticipated so they can be addressed before they happen. Preventative measures.
Then there are the millions of things that go into running a school, too. Accreditation processes, textbooks to be ordered. Lesson plans. He and Jean are busy that summer, trying to take care of most of it before college starts back up in the fall.
Several times Scott thinks about throwing away the piece of paper in his pocket, in some passive-aggressive message of defiance. We don’t need you.
But he never does.
* * *
They’re putting one of the classrooms together, the summer sun hot and bright in the room, when he finds the note on the desk. It’s written in neat, precise handwriting, and Scott knows exactly to whom it belongs.
“What the hell is this, Jean?”
She looks up from where she’s stacking the books, a brief flash of guilt on her face that tells him he’s right. “It’s…suggested reading. For physics.”
“You got this from him.”
“Scott,” she says, with that tone in her voice that makes him immediately defensive, “Don’t start.”
He hates it when she does that, treats him like he’s a child. He’s the same age as her, isn’t he, so why should she act that way? He may not be a pre-med student at Columbia, but he’s not an idiot. “Why are you still talking to him?”
She stands up, hands on her hips. She’s wearing her hair in two long braids, like Pipi Longstocking. “I’m not talking to him. I asked him for some suggested reading for the physics students-honestly, Scott, do you know what books to get?”
“No, but I bet a lot of other people do. What about Hank?”
Her voice is tight when she answers. “The books Hank would suggest would scare anyone away from the sciences for good. He was probably reading college-age physics books when he was eleven.”
“We don’t need him,” Scott bites out, turning away to look out at the grass beyond the window. He can see the man they’ve hired to look after the grounds on the riding mower, off in the distance, cutting clean lines in the lawn. The sunlight sparkles off the pool no one’s used all summer. They’re too busy to relax.
“It’s just a book list,” she says defensively, but he won’t look at her.
He was always your favorite. He doesn’t say that, either.
* * *
The last straw comes when he finds out that not only has she met him for dinner, but that Erik Lehnsherr is still far too involved in his life for Scott’s liking.
He never would have found out, either, but he hears Ororo on the phone talking to Hank about it when she thinks he’s not around. They have a phone in the hallway, just like in those old movies about college where students line up to call mom and dad on Sundays.
The mansion is old and doesn’t have a lot of phone jacks. Scott mentally adds that his ever-growing list of things to do before he goes back to school. The list is starting to wake him up at night in a sweat.
“…Yeah, you know. I’ll be glad to get out of here. The Professor’s fine but Scott treats him like he’s an invalid. He’s all over-protective, you know, like he is.” Ororo is twisting the phone cord around her fingers. She sounds bored, but it’s probably affected.
Of all of them, Ororo seemed the least affected by the last year; Erik’s leaving, the Professor’s accident. Ororo has always been somewhat enigmatic to Scott, lacking Jean’s inclination to say what she was thinking, as well as Hank’s logical explanations that never really made much sense if you weren’t Hank.
Scott’s always felt a little bad at how close he feels to Jean but not Ororo. She’s been here almost as long as the rest of them, but there’s something aloof about her. The Professor said it’s because she had a traumatic childhood. Scott wants to remind him that he had one, too, but he doesn’t.
“She’s fine. She’s actually trying to still keep some sort of relationship with him. She met him for dinner last week, but I’m not supposed to mention it. I guess Scott would go ballistic, especially if he found out Erik was paying his tuition instead of the Professor.”
Scott doesn’t think his mutation is to blame for the flash of scarlet rage that bursts forth behind his eyelids when he hears that. After lunch, he makes his excuses for dinner that night and leaves to go into the city.
* * *
Erik looks surprised to see him, but it only lasts a moment. He gives Scott a terse nod and opens the door so that he may enter, though Scott thinks maybe Erik would rather not let him in the apartment. Not because he wouldn’t want to see him, but because the look on Scott’s face is plainly furious, just as it was the last time they saw each other. That was the day Erik refused to move back into the mansion after Charles returned home from the hospital.
He doesn’t want me there, Scott. I won’t pretend his wishes mean nothing just because he’s hurt. It’s insulting. Erik had refused to even see Charles, reminding Scott that Charles had told him under no uncertain terms never to return to the mansion, and that he was certain Charles wouldn’t want that edict rescinded just because of what had happened. Scott had nearly pleaded with Erik to reconsider, but to no avail. Erik never came, and Scott never mentioned it again.
“I take it you have something you wish to say to me?” Erik leans casually against the wall, but there’s nothing casual about his expression. His chill eyes are sharp, watchful.
Scott briefly takes in the sight of his apartment; boxes still stacked in the sparsely-furnished living room, a truly hideous plaid couch that has probably seen better days in a dorm room somewhere. The only things organized at all are the books, neatly shelved in two bookcases on the far right wall.
“Yeah. Leave Jean alone.” The words are rough and tremble slightly in his anger. He practiced this the whole way here, but it sounded so much better in his head.
At least Erik doesn’t try and deny it, that he’s seen her. “She’s a grown woman,” he says calmly. “She may see whomever she wishes.”
“She thinks you still care about her,” Scott bites out, hands clenched into fists.
“I do,” Erik says, still in that same infuriating voice, as if he’s lecturing about Bernoulli’s Principle in class with some crude diagram written on the board behind him. “I care about both of you.”
An increase in velocity occurs simultaneously with decrease in pressure.
“Yeah, if you cared, why’d you leave?” Scott’s breathing too fast. He never meant to say that.
“Not because of her. Not because of you. Is that what you wanted to hear?” There’s something cruel in Erik’s expression now, something slightly bitter in his voice. “That it wasn’t your fault? I would have thought you were smart enough not to require such platitudes.”
“I know whose fault it was,” Scott snaps, moving backwards. He should leave. He should never have come here.
“Of course you do. You know everything.” Erik is calm again, and it makes Scott even angrier.
“I know you’re paying my tuition,” Scott tells him, and he’s slightly gratified when Erik’s eyes narrow.
“I can’t believe Charles would have told you that, or Jean, either.”
“Maybe she did. You don’t own her. Her loyalty is to us, not to you.” He can’t seem to stop himself from sounding like some character in a comic book, but the words are pouring out like a torrent, like water too long dammed.
Erik’s advancing on him, which Scott didn’t expect, and there’s a light in his eyes that Scott’s never seen before. “You wish to talk to me of loyalty? Do you know why I left, Scott, do you have idea why I’ve done what I have?”
“Because you think we’re some kind of superior master race? Surprised you’d buy into that, considering-” Scott makes himself stop, because in his anger and his grief he’s close to crossing a line that he shouldn’t.
Erik flinches, so quickly Scott thinks he might have imagined it. “My loyalties are to mutants, Scott. All of us. I will not idly sit by and watch while-”
“Save the speeches,” Scott says, staring hard at a water stain on the plaster ceiling. “I heard you and the Professor arguing over this enough not to need to hear it again.”
“Clearly you do,” Erik snaps, standing too close, staring down at Scott with a burning, intense gaze. “Perhaps you ought to listen.”
“Stop paying my tuition,” Scott growls, refusing to give way. “Stop seeing Jean.”
Erik smiles. The light falls in through the dirty living room window and falls on his face, making him look sinister. “No.”
“Damn you, stop it,” Scott shouts, and reaches out and shoves him, because he just wants Erik to hurt like he’s hurting-
Erik catches Scott’s wrists in his hands and whips him around, shoving him back into the wall. It hurts, and the pain thrums up Scott’s spine and strengthens his resolve.
“You can’t have both,” Scott says, swallowing hard. “You can’t have us and be Magneto, too.”
Erik’s always been arrogant, and he’s never liked hearing no. “Can’t I?” he breathes, leaning down, and Scott has no idea what is going on, but suddenly he wishes he could free his wrists because he thinks maybe he should use his visor. The visor Erik made him.
“No,” Scott says quietly, wondering if he’s actually going to have to physically make Erik release him. He struggles half-heartedly, pulling ineffectually at Erik’s grasp on his wrists, which is strong and tight like a vise. “You have to choose.”
“Would you forgive me, Scott, if I came back with you?”
“You wouldn’t.” Scott’s voice is unsure. This isn’t at all what he expects Erik to say.
“You don’t know that,” Erik murmurs, and releases his hands. Before Scott can move, something cold and metal is pinning his arms to the wall where before it had been Erik’s hands. “Maybe I would. Maybe you could…convince me.”
Scott has no idea why Erik--Erik, the man who for years was a surrogate father to him-is forcibly restraining him against a wall and smiling at him in a way Scott’s never seen him smile before.
“Let me go. If the Professor finds out about this…”
“You didn’t answer my question, Scott,” Erik purrs, and his voice doesn’t sound like he’s lecturing anymore. “Would you forgive me?” His fingers come up and gently trace Scott’s mouth; it’s wrong in so many ways, and Scott turns his head away to try and escape the caress, which makes fear race up and down his spine like ice. His stomach twists unpleasantly. This is all wrong.
“Why? It doesn’t matter. You won’t come back. Let me go.” He hates the way it almost sounds like he’s begging, but he hates this, hates being restrained.
“I just want you to answer my question,” Erik says softly, and his long fingers catch Scott’s chin and forcibly turn his face so that Erik can see him. “Would you forgive me, if I came back…came home?”
It feels as if someone has kicked him in the stomach, and Scott tries not to remember right after Erik left, how he’d lain awake at night thinking that maybe it would be okay, that Erik would come home and everything would go back to normal.
“Come now, it’s a simple question, hardly worth all this fuss…” Erik’s fingers are running over the metal that is holding Scott to the wall; Scott can’t see his makeshift restraints, but every now and then, he can feel Erik’s fingers skirt lightly over the flesh of his arms.
Scott nearly sobs his answer, and his face is burning with shame as he does so. “Yes.”
“I thought you might say that,” Erik murmurs, and his body is warm even though his fingers are very cold, tracing down Scott’s face, rubbing over his lips again. “I’m not coming back.”
“I know,” Scott whispers, and he’s near tears, and he can feel his whole body shaking. I should never have come here.
“You say I have to make a choice, Scott. That I cannot be Magneto, and have you and Jean. Have your affections. So be it, then. I have made my choice.” Erik leans down and kisses him, hard and fast, his body pressed up against Scott’s.
Scott bucks against the wall and twists, but now there’s metal restraining his legs and he can’t move, and Erik’s still kissing him and Scott’s fighting this with everything he has, which isn’t much, considering he can’t move his legs or touch his visor. He’s helpless, and Erik’s hand is sliding down his stomach as he kisses him, his tongue in Scott’s mouth and his fingers working on the buttons of his jeans.
Tears burn Scott’s eyes, and he tries to think of anything other than what Erik’s hand is doing, how it’s shoved beneath his jeans and wrapped around him, how it’s moving up and down, faster and faster. Scott knows it’s not his fault his body is responding, but he can’t help the shame, and turns his head away so he doesn’t have to watch.
Erik’s mouth is hot on his neck, his teeth nipping him sharply. Scott is silent, his eyes closed behind his visor, biting his lip so hard between his teeth that he tastes blood. This way, he won’t beg. He will keep whatever dignity he can. He will survive this.
“Thinking of Jean?” Erik asks, his breath hot against Scott’s skin. “I suppose whatever works for you is acceptable.”
There aren’t words that exist with which Scott could respond to that. Even if there were, he’s pretty sure they’d catch in his throat like butterflies trapped in a jar, struggling against captivity until they fluttered and died.
In the end, he does think about Jean because he just wants it to be over. He makes a sound when he comes that is mostly a sob; it is not so much pleasure as relief that it is over, that maybe Erik will let him go now.
He does; his face blank and unaffected as he stares at Scott, who is hanging limp in his restraints. “Now would you forgive me, Scott? Would you forgive me after what I’ve just done to you?”
There is no hesitation in Scott’s answer, though it takes him several moments to draw enough breath to give it voice. “No.” His tone is firm, resolute, despite the tears still streaking his face.
Erik smiles, but there’s a terrible grief in his eyes that he can no longer hide. “Good.”
The metal is suddenly gone, returned to whatever mundane object it was before Erik used it to restrain Scott.
Erik makes no move to defend himself, but Scott is not reaching for his visor. Understanding breaks like a terrible wave over him. “You didn’t-God, why did you think you had to-” he can’t finish the sentence, because the idea that Erik thinks he did this for him, Scott, is too twisted to contemplate.
“Yes, yes, I did.” Erik’s voice is as sad as Scott’s ever heard it, but there’s steel underneath it, as unyielding as the metal which had pinned Scott to the wall. “You said I have to make a choice, Scott, and you were right. I cannot have a family and a cause. But you see, as long as you would have forgiven me, I think that I could have. Or, rather, I could have tried. I was trying. I see that now, though I didn’t before.”
Scott’s not restrained to the wall anymore, but he still isn’t moving. His legs are shaking. His thighs are sticky beneath his jeans. The memory of what happened is making him sick to his stomach, or maybe it’s the logic behind it. Scott’s not sure he’ll ever know which is worse.
“I did it for you, Scott. So that you may go home and hate me with reason, and now there is no way Charles will ever have me back. Even if I-” Erik falters, pressing his hand to his forehead, and stumbles backwards. “Go. I’ve given you what you wanted.”
“What I wanted? Are you crazy--!”
“Very possibly.” Erik lowers his hand, and his face is impassive again. “I suggest you leave, Scott, unless perhaps you enjoyed our little tryst and would like to continue it elsewhere? Say, the bedroom?”
Erik’s remarkably gifted at pouring salt into wounds still fresh and bleeding. “Don’t try so hard. You’ve made your point.” Scott pushes himself off of the wall and yanks at the door, fingers scrambling to find the knob. He can barely walk, he’s shaking so hard.
Once he’s outside, he runs away as fast as he can, so fast his lungs are aching from the pain of trying to get enough air. He wonders if Erik is watching him from the window, but he doesn’t look back to check. He never wants to see his face again.
While he’s waiting for the subway, he reaches into his pocket and takes out the small piece of paper. He stares at it for a long time, then throws it into the air and watches as it slowly flutters down to the tracks below. Any moment the train will come, and there’ll be nothing left, and maybe there’s some sort of peace to be found in that.
Maybe.
Author: Sionnain
’Verse: XMMF, set pre-movies.
Pairing: Scott/Erik (Cyclops/Magneto)
Rating: Adult
Warning: Non-con, angst. Please be advised of the warnings.
Summary: Scott wants Erik to make a choice.
AN: My thanks to artaxastra for a wonderful beta, and to eldee for also reading a draft of this. This was written for the occasion of Ion_Bond's birth, because I like to gift my friends with non-con fics for their birthday. O_o I hope you like this, Ion.
Ultimatum
The eagle suffers little birds to sing, And is not careful what they mean thereby. ---Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus
There is an address written on a piece of paper; Scott keeps it in his pocket even though he’s long since committed the words to memory. He even knows how to get there, because one day he drove downtown and took the subway until he was standing right in front of the building.
He saw a woman leaving, and he just knew she came from Erik’s apartment, even though he had no real reason to think that. It was irrational and it didn’t make sense, but he was just so convinced that he nearly approached the woman and asked what the hell did she think was doing? Scott had turned away instead without saying a word, heading home with a sick taste in his mouth and a migraine starting behind his eyes.
He’s never told Jean that he knows where Erik is, but he’s certain he doesn’t need to, not really. Jean probably already knows, anyway. Sometimes he catches her on the phone, looking guilty, and she’ll never tell him who’s called.
Those early days after the Accident-Scott thinks of it that way, with a capital A--things had been crazy enough that maybe he could have forgiven Jean for calling him. He can’t, though, not now, not when thing are better, not when they’re doing just fine without him.
There are still a lot of modifications to be done; ramps to be installed, bathrooms to be renovated, countless scenarios that have to be anticipated so they can be addressed before they happen. Preventative measures.
Then there are the millions of things that go into running a school, too. Accreditation processes, textbooks to be ordered. Lesson plans. He and Jean are busy that summer, trying to take care of most of it before college starts back up in the fall.
Several times Scott thinks about throwing away the piece of paper in his pocket, in some passive-aggressive message of defiance. We don’t need you.
But he never does.
* * *
They’re putting one of the classrooms together, the summer sun hot and bright in the room, when he finds the note on the desk. It’s written in neat, precise handwriting, and Scott knows exactly to whom it belongs.
“What the hell is this, Jean?”
She looks up from where she’s stacking the books, a brief flash of guilt on her face that tells him he’s right. “It’s…suggested reading. For physics.”
“You got this from him.”
“Scott,” she says, with that tone in her voice that makes him immediately defensive, “Don’t start.”
He hates it when she does that, treats him like he’s a child. He’s the same age as her, isn’t he, so why should she act that way? He may not be a pre-med student at Columbia, but he’s not an idiot. “Why are you still talking to him?”
She stands up, hands on her hips. She’s wearing her hair in two long braids, like Pipi Longstocking. “I’m not talking to him. I asked him for some suggested reading for the physics students-honestly, Scott, do you know what books to get?”
“No, but I bet a lot of other people do. What about Hank?”
Her voice is tight when she answers. “The books Hank would suggest would scare anyone away from the sciences for good. He was probably reading college-age physics books when he was eleven.”
“We don’t need him,” Scott bites out, turning away to look out at the grass beyond the window. He can see the man they’ve hired to look after the grounds on the riding mower, off in the distance, cutting clean lines in the lawn. The sunlight sparkles off the pool no one’s used all summer. They’re too busy to relax.
“It’s just a book list,” she says defensively, but he won’t look at her.
He was always your favorite. He doesn’t say that, either.
* * *
The last straw comes when he finds out that not only has she met him for dinner, but that Erik Lehnsherr is still far too involved in his life for Scott’s liking.
He never would have found out, either, but he hears Ororo on the phone talking to Hank about it when she thinks he’s not around. They have a phone in the hallway, just like in those old movies about college where students line up to call mom and dad on Sundays.
The mansion is old and doesn’t have a lot of phone jacks. Scott mentally adds that his ever-growing list of things to do before he goes back to school. The list is starting to wake him up at night in a sweat.
“…Yeah, you know. I’ll be glad to get out of here. The Professor’s fine but Scott treats him like he’s an invalid. He’s all over-protective, you know, like he is.” Ororo is twisting the phone cord around her fingers. She sounds bored, but it’s probably affected.
Of all of them, Ororo seemed the least affected by the last year; Erik’s leaving, the Professor’s accident. Ororo has always been somewhat enigmatic to Scott, lacking Jean’s inclination to say what she was thinking, as well as Hank’s logical explanations that never really made much sense if you weren’t Hank.
Scott’s always felt a little bad at how close he feels to Jean but not Ororo. She’s been here almost as long as the rest of them, but there’s something aloof about her. The Professor said it’s because she had a traumatic childhood. Scott wants to remind him that he had one, too, but he doesn’t.
“She’s fine. She’s actually trying to still keep some sort of relationship with him. She met him for dinner last week, but I’m not supposed to mention it. I guess Scott would go ballistic, especially if he found out Erik was paying his tuition instead of the Professor.”
Scott doesn’t think his mutation is to blame for the flash of scarlet rage that bursts forth behind his eyelids when he hears that. After lunch, he makes his excuses for dinner that night and leaves to go into the city.
* * *
Erik looks surprised to see him, but it only lasts a moment. He gives Scott a terse nod and opens the door so that he may enter, though Scott thinks maybe Erik would rather not let him in the apartment. Not because he wouldn’t want to see him, but because the look on Scott’s face is plainly furious, just as it was the last time they saw each other. That was the day Erik refused to move back into the mansion after Charles returned home from the hospital.
He doesn’t want me there, Scott. I won’t pretend his wishes mean nothing just because he’s hurt. It’s insulting. Erik had refused to even see Charles, reminding Scott that Charles had told him under no uncertain terms never to return to the mansion, and that he was certain Charles wouldn’t want that edict rescinded just because of what had happened. Scott had nearly pleaded with Erik to reconsider, but to no avail. Erik never came, and Scott never mentioned it again.
“I take it you have something you wish to say to me?” Erik leans casually against the wall, but there’s nothing casual about his expression. His chill eyes are sharp, watchful.
Scott briefly takes in the sight of his apartment; boxes still stacked in the sparsely-furnished living room, a truly hideous plaid couch that has probably seen better days in a dorm room somewhere. The only things organized at all are the books, neatly shelved in two bookcases on the far right wall.
“Yeah. Leave Jean alone.” The words are rough and tremble slightly in his anger. He practiced this the whole way here, but it sounded so much better in his head.
At least Erik doesn’t try and deny it, that he’s seen her. “She’s a grown woman,” he says calmly. “She may see whomever she wishes.”
“She thinks you still care about her,” Scott bites out, hands clenched into fists.
“I do,” Erik says, still in that same infuriating voice, as if he’s lecturing about Bernoulli’s Principle in class with some crude diagram written on the board behind him. “I care about both of you.”
An increase in velocity occurs simultaneously with decrease in pressure.
“Yeah, if you cared, why’d you leave?” Scott’s breathing too fast. He never meant to say that.
“Not because of her. Not because of you. Is that what you wanted to hear?” There’s something cruel in Erik’s expression now, something slightly bitter in his voice. “That it wasn’t your fault? I would have thought you were smart enough not to require such platitudes.”
“I know whose fault it was,” Scott snaps, moving backwards. He should leave. He should never have come here.
“Of course you do. You know everything.” Erik is calm again, and it makes Scott even angrier.
“I know you’re paying my tuition,” Scott tells him, and he’s slightly gratified when Erik’s eyes narrow.
“I can’t believe Charles would have told you that, or Jean, either.”
“Maybe she did. You don’t own her. Her loyalty is to us, not to you.” He can’t seem to stop himself from sounding like some character in a comic book, but the words are pouring out like a torrent, like water too long dammed.
Erik’s advancing on him, which Scott didn’t expect, and there’s a light in his eyes that Scott’s never seen before. “You wish to talk to me of loyalty? Do you know why I left, Scott, do you have idea why I’ve done what I have?”
“Because you think we’re some kind of superior master race? Surprised you’d buy into that, considering-” Scott makes himself stop, because in his anger and his grief he’s close to crossing a line that he shouldn’t.
Erik flinches, so quickly Scott thinks he might have imagined it. “My loyalties are to mutants, Scott. All of us. I will not idly sit by and watch while-”
“Save the speeches,” Scott says, staring hard at a water stain on the plaster ceiling. “I heard you and the Professor arguing over this enough not to need to hear it again.”
“Clearly you do,” Erik snaps, standing too close, staring down at Scott with a burning, intense gaze. “Perhaps you ought to listen.”
“Stop paying my tuition,” Scott growls, refusing to give way. “Stop seeing Jean.”
Erik smiles. The light falls in through the dirty living room window and falls on his face, making him look sinister. “No.”
“Damn you, stop it,” Scott shouts, and reaches out and shoves him, because he just wants Erik to hurt like he’s hurting-
Erik catches Scott’s wrists in his hands and whips him around, shoving him back into the wall. It hurts, and the pain thrums up Scott’s spine and strengthens his resolve.
“You can’t have both,” Scott says, swallowing hard. “You can’t have us and be Magneto, too.”
Erik’s always been arrogant, and he’s never liked hearing no. “Can’t I?” he breathes, leaning down, and Scott has no idea what is going on, but suddenly he wishes he could free his wrists because he thinks maybe he should use his visor. The visor Erik made him.
“No,” Scott says quietly, wondering if he’s actually going to have to physically make Erik release him. He struggles half-heartedly, pulling ineffectually at Erik’s grasp on his wrists, which is strong and tight like a vise. “You have to choose.”
“Would you forgive me, Scott, if I came back with you?”
“You wouldn’t.” Scott’s voice is unsure. This isn’t at all what he expects Erik to say.
“You don’t know that,” Erik murmurs, and releases his hands. Before Scott can move, something cold and metal is pinning his arms to the wall where before it had been Erik’s hands. “Maybe I would. Maybe you could…convince me.”
Scott has no idea why Erik--Erik, the man who for years was a surrogate father to him-is forcibly restraining him against a wall and smiling at him in a way Scott’s never seen him smile before.
“Let me go. If the Professor finds out about this…”
“You didn’t answer my question, Scott,” Erik purrs, and his voice doesn’t sound like he’s lecturing anymore. “Would you forgive me?” His fingers come up and gently trace Scott’s mouth; it’s wrong in so many ways, and Scott turns his head away to try and escape the caress, which makes fear race up and down his spine like ice. His stomach twists unpleasantly. This is all wrong.
“Why? It doesn’t matter. You won’t come back. Let me go.” He hates the way it almost sounds like he’s begging, but he hates this, hates being restrained.
“I just want you to answer my question,” Erik says softly, and his long fingers catch Scott’s chin and forcibly turn his face so that Erik can see him. “Would you forgive me, if I came back…came home?”
It feels as if someone has kicked him in the stomach, and Scott tries not to remember right after Erik left, how he’d lain awake at night thinking that maybe it would be okay, that Erik would come home and everything would go back to normal.
“Come now, it’s a simple question, hardly worth all this fuss…” Erik’s fingers are running over the metal that is holding Scott to the wall; Scott can’t see his makeshift restraints, but every now and then, he can feel Erik’s fingers skirt lightly over the flesh of his arms.
Scott nearly sobs his answer, and his face is burning with shame as he does so. “Yes.”
“I thought you might say that,” Erik murmurs, and his body is warm even though his fingers are very cold, tracing down Scott’s face, rubbing over his lips again. “I’m not coming back.”
“I know,” Scott whispers, and he’s near tears, and he can feel his whole body shaking. I should never have come here.
“You say I have to make a choice, Scott. That I cannot be Magneto, and have you and Jean. Have your affections. So be it, then. I have made my choice.” Erik leans down and kisses him, hard and fast, his body pressed up against Scott’s.
Scott bucks against the wall and twists, but now there’s metal restraining his legs and he can’t move, and Erik’s still kissing him and Scott’s fighting this with everything he has, which isn’t much, considering he can’t move his legs or touch his visor. He’s helpless, and Erik’s hand is sliding down his stomach as he kisses him, his tongue in Scott’s mouth and his fingers working on the buttons of his jeans.
Tears burn Scott’s eyes, and he tries to think of anything other than what Erik’s hand is doing, how it’s shoved beneath his jeans and wrapped around him, how it’s moving up and down, faster and faster. Scott knows it’s not his fault his body is responding, but he can’t help the shame, and turns his head away so he doesn’t have to watch.
Erik’s mouth is hot on his neck, his teeth nipping him sharply. Scott is silent, his eyes closed behind his visor, biting his lip so hard between his teeth that he tastes blood. This way, he won’t beg. He will keep whatever dignity he can. He will survive this.
“Thinking of Jean?” Erik asks, his breath hot against Scott’s skin. “I suppose whatever works for you is acceptable.”
There aren’t words that exist with which Scott could respond to that. Even if there were, he’s pretty sure they’d catch in his throat like butterflies trapped in a jar, struggling against captivity until they fluttered and died.
In the end, he does think about Jean because he just wants it to be over. He makes a sound when he comes that is mostly a sob; it is not so much pleasure as relief that it is over, that maybe Erik will let him go now.
He does; his face blank and unaffected as he stares at Scott, who is hanging limp in his restraints. “Now would you forgive me, Scott? Would you forgive me after what I’ve just done to you?”
There is no hesitation in Scott’s answer, though it takes him several moments to draw enough breath to give it voice. “No.” His tone is firm, resolute, despite the tears still streaking his face.
Erik smiles, but there’s a terrible grief in his eyes that he can no longer hide. “Good.”
The metal is suddenly gone, returned to whatever mundane object it was before Erik used it to restrain Scott.
Erik makes no move to defend himself, but Scott is not reaching for his visor. Understanding breaks like a terrible wave over him. “You didn’t-God, why did you think you had to-” he can’t finish the sentence, because the idea that Erik thinks he did this for him, Scott, is too twisted to contemplate.
“Yes, yes, I did.” Erik’s voice is as sad as Scott’s ever heard it, but there’s steel underneath it, as unyielding as the metal which had pinned Scott to the wall. “You said I have to make a choice, Scott, and you were right. I cannot have a family and a cause. But you see, as long as you would have forgiven me, I think that I could have. Or, rather, I could have tried. I was trying. I see that now, though I didn’t before.”
Scott’s not restrained to the wall anymore, but he still isn’t moving. His legs are shaking. His thighs are sticky beneath his jeans. The memory of what happened is making him sick to his stomach, or maybe it’s the logic behind it. Scott’s not sure he’ll ever know which is worse.
“I did it for you, Scott. So that you may go home and hate me with reason, and now there is no way Charles will ever have me back. Even if I-” Erik falters, pressing his hand to his forehead, and stumbles backwards. “Go. I’ve given you what you wanted.”
“What I wanted? Are you crazy--!”
“Very possibly.” Erik lowers his hand, and his face is impassive again. “I suggest you leave, Scott, unless perhaps you enjoyed our little tryst and would like to continue it elsewhere? Say, the bedroom?”
Erik’s remarkably gifted at pouring salt into wounds still fresh and bleeding. “Don’t try so hard. You’ve made your point.” Scott pushes himself off of the wall and yanks at the door, fingers scrambling to find the knob. He can barely walk, he’s shaking so hard.
Once he’s outside, he runs away as fast as he can, so fast his lungs are aching from the pain of trying to get enough air. He wonders if Erik is watching him from the window, but he doesn’t look back to check. He never wants to see his face again.
While he’s waiting for the subway, he reaches into his pocket and takes out the small piece of paper. He stares at it for a long time, then throws it into the air and watches as it slowly flutters down to the tracks below. Any moment the train will come, and there’ll be nothing left, and maybe there’s some sort of peace to be found in that.
Maybe.