X-Men First Class fic: Top of the List (Charles/Tony Stark, 1,500 words)
Again, blame 1stclass_kink
Title: Top of the List
Fandom: X-Men First Class / Avengers
Pairing: Charles/Tony
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,500
Warnings: Language. Sexual harassment (kinda).
Notes: Written for this prompt on the First Class kink meme:
One of Tony's life goals is to have sex with as many superheros as possible. He even has a list. He hopes to add Charles to that list very soon.
Original can be found here
He’s there again, thinking, loudly, with images. Graphic images, the kind of images that pop back into your mind at inappropriate times. Like late at night.
Sod off, Charles tells him. He turns to Logan, who is hanging around waiting for his latest batch of students. ‘Could you ascertain why Mr Stark is on the premises and remove him, please?’
What will his excuse be this time? A week earlier he was recruiting for the Avengers. Before that he wanted some tests run on his bio-interface. Once, apparently, his suit broke down just as he was flying over the mansion. It’s getting ridiculous.
Logan grunts. ‘You want him removed or “removed”?’
‘I’ll leave it in your capable hands,’ Charles says. Claws, whatever gets rid of him. ‘Just ensure that he leaves.’
‘Sure thing, bub,’ Logan says, ‘but y’know, might as well give it up. He ain’t gonna back down. Also, he’s an animal in the sack.’
Charles stares. How does Logan know what Stark wants? And how does he know...? Surely he hasn’t. Oh God, he really has. He’s thinking about it. He’s reliving it.
Good grief… that’s actually rather impressive, if it’s physically possible.
‘Certainly not,’ he says firmly. ‘I don’t know why Mr Stark is determined to add me to the numerous notches on his bedpost, but I know he is going to be disappointed. And you can tell him I said so.’
Logan grins and slopes off. He’s finding the whole thing really funny.
Charles hates him just a little bit.
***
‘And it gives me great pleasure to introduce Professor Charles Xavier!’
Charles wheels himself across the stage to where Tony Stark is standing, holding a microphone and giving his famous shit-eating grin.
‘Thank you, Mr Stark,’ he says sourly. He takes the microphone. Stark makes damned sure that their hands touch, and there’s a little jolt of connection that he can’t quite shut out.
The bastard’s still thinking about it. He thinks about it all through Charles’s speech for the mutant rights benefit, watching the microphone. Charles tries to hold it as far from his lips as possible.
The speech had taken hours to write. It’s important, there’s no way he’s going to let himself be distracted by some oversexed playboy pervert of a superhero.
Finally he gets to the end. A few intense and inspiring last words and the audience are on their feet, clapping loudly. Charles acknowledges the applause and hands the microphone back.
Stark brushes his hand again. ‘You have a gorgeous mouth,’ he says under his breath. Charles shivers as the whisper brushes across his skin. No, he is not interested. He isn’t.
God, it’s been a while.
Vindictively, from offstage, he sends a pointed thought of itchiness, specifically itchiness of the bottom. It’s astonishingly childish but watching Stark try not to squirm is worth it.
As he wheels away to find his X-men someone looms up and he feels the unmistakable, ageless presence of an Asguardian mind.
‘Wise words, my friend,’ declaims Thor. ‘You are a mighty leader of men.’
‘Thank you,’ Charles says politely, ‘if it opens just one mind to the mutant cause it will have been worthwhile.’
Thor nods. ‘Struggles never cease,' his voice takes on a deeper, softer note, 'and some struggles, if well fought, lead to victory for both parties. Verily, Tony Stark is a worthy adversary on that battlefield. I have enjoyed many great victories with him.'
‘Battlefield?’ Charles says blankly.
‘The art of passion is a great and noble struggle,’ Thor says. He actually winks.
Good lord. ‘Not you too?’ Charles asks.
Thor takes a small bow. ‘I have had that honour.’
***
He needs to meet with Captain America. He’s in New York, Stark Tower is the obvious venue and he really can’t think of a good excuse not to go. Bugger.
As soon as he gets out of the lift he knows it was a bad idea.
‘Hi gorgeous,’ Stark says, wandering up, ‘I should tell you, you’re already an itch for me, you don’t need to add extras.’
He’s oil-stained, in soft jeans, his bare arms gleaming with sweat. He looks edible.
‘This amounts to sexual harassment,’ Charles says snippily.
Stark holds up his large, sensitive hands and smiles ruefully. ‘Alright, I’ll back off. But just so you know, the offer still stands. Any time, day or night. I’ll be there in a flash, and I absolutely promise you’ll enjoy yourself.’
He’s looking at Charles’s lips again.
Charles ignores it, with some difficulty. ‘I’m here to see Captain America, perhaps you’d direct me to him?’
‘Right that way.’
Stark’s thoughts thrum through the air. He’s watching Charles’s retreating figure, and he’s seeing something intensely desirable. He really does think Charles is gorgeous.
No, no, no, it’s not going to happen.
It’s probably not going to happen.
The meeting with Captain America goes well. Charles likes Steve, he’s decent and straightforward and he’s rapidly shrugging off the few old fashioned taboos of his original era. They plan a few political moves regarding metahumans and discuss the best way to dealt with their overlapping missions. Charles gives an update on one of the Avengers recovering from a mind probe, and they chat about the human and mutant baseball game Steve’s promised to referee.
And then Steve coughs and says, ‘Listen, about Tony.’
Charles freezes. ‘What about Tony?’
‘If you’re worried about the wheelchair, don’t be’ Steve say earnestly. ‘He’s terribly considerate. In fact, he’s the most considerate man I’ve ever… well… you know.’ He smiles shyly and flushes to the tips of his ears.
Charles feels his mouth drop open. Captain America? Is nothing sacred?
***
He has a list.
Charles doesn’t usually do this, but he couldn’t help himself. Tony is sitting at the opposite end of the conference room, staring into space, obviously thinking of something completely unrelated to the entirely boring discussion at hand.
Charles’s curiosity got the better of him.
It’s an actual list. Tony thinks in a bizarrely ordered jumble, and this is very accurately envisaged.
It’s on a mental piece of notepaper, written in varying colours of ink. An awful lot of the names are crossed out.
Charles Xavier is right at the top. It’s triple underlined, with stars around it. There’s a little note: ‘Don’t think I have a chance, but have to keep trying,’ followed by a row of sad faces.
Tony is mentally scribbling a few extra names, but his attention keeps flicking back to the top. He moodily draws another sad face.
Charles desperately tries not to laugh. It’s just so… weirdly endearing. Flattering. Intriguing.
Also, searingly hot, because Tony is thinking about exactly why Charles is top of his list and what he’d do if he ever got the chance. A lot of these are exactly the things Charles has been desperately trying not to think about lately, and some of them are even more interesting. Tony is really, really turned on right now.
So, for that matter, is Charles. Thank God for the conference table.
All the X-men say he’s been working too hard, they’re always telling him to relax. This would be extremely relaxing.
After all, everyone else is doing it. Doing Tony. What’s the harm?
And he’s had really good reviews.
Charles sighs. Who’s he kidding? He wants this, and there’s no damn reason in the world why he shouldn’t have it. He reaches out a tendril of presence, just enough to be noticeable. Tony starts, then looks up across the table and meets Charles’s eyes, openly and seductively. He smiles.
Charles smiles back. He reaches into Tony’s head and, very slowly, crosses off his own name.
***
Oh God. That was really fucking good.
Charles stretches languorously. ‘Five stars.’
Tony grins. He’s pulling on his shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘It was my pleasure.’
‘I know,’ Charles says smugly. ‘So, who’s next on the list? I’ll be happy to write you a reference.’
Tony runs a mental eye down his list. Charles takes another peek. He looks with satisfaction at his own crossed-out name, and tries unsuccessfully not to snoop at the others. Amazing… even robots aren’t safe.
He runs his eyes back up the list. A scrap of paper has been taped to the top. On it are three words.
‘Charles Xavier. Again.’
Charles gives Tony a hard look. Tony ducks his head, almost embarrassed, and shrugs. ‘Just so you know,’ he says, ‘the offer still stands. Any time, day or night.’
Charles lays his head back on the pillow. It's nice to be appreciated. Some day, maybe, he’ll take Tony up on that.
Title: Top of the List
Fandom: X-Men First Class / Avengers
Pairing: Charles/Tony
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,500
Warnings: Language. Sexual harassment (kinda).
Notes: Written for this prompt on the First Class kink meme:
One of Tony's life goals is to have sex with as many superheros as possible. He even has a list. He hopes to add Charles to that list very soon.
Original can be found here
He’s there again, thinking, loudly, with images. Graphic images, the kind of images that pop back into your mind at inappropriate times. Like late at night.
Sod off, Charles tells him. He turns to Logan, who is hanging around waiting for his latest batch of students. ‘Could you ascertain why Mr Stark is on the premises and remove him, please?’
What will his excuse be this time? A week earlier he was recruiting for the Avengers. Before that he wanted some tests run on his bio-interface. Once, apparently, his suit broke down just as he was flying over the mansion. It’s getting ridiculous.
Logan grunts. ‘You want him removed or “removed”?’
‘I’ll leave it in your capable hands,’ Charles says. Claws, whatever gets rid of him. ‘Just ensure that he leaves.’
‘Sure thing, bub,’ Logan says, ‘but y’know, might as well give it up. He ain’t gonna back down. Also, he’s an animal in the sack.’
Charles stares. How does Logan know what Stark wants? And how does he know...? Surely he hasn’t. Oh God, he really has. He’s thinking about it. He’s reliving it.
Good grief… that’s actually rather impressive, if it’s physically possible.
‘Certainly not,’ he says firmly. ‘I don’t know why Mr Stark is determined to add me to the numerous notches on his bedpost, but I know he is going to be disappointed. And you can tell him I said so.’
Logan grins and slopes off. He’s finding the whole thing really funny.
Charles hates him just a little bit.
***
‘And it gives me great pleasure to introduce Professor Charles Xavier!’
Charles wheels himself across the stage to where Tony Stark is standing, holding a microphone and giving his famous shit-eating grin.
‘Thank you, Mr Stark,’ he says sourly. He takes the microphone. Stark makes damned sure that their hands touch, and there’s a little jolt of connection that he can’t quite shut out.
The bastard’s still thinking about it. He thinks about it all through Charles’s speech for the mutant rights benefit, watching the microphone. Charles tries to hold it as far from his lips as possible.
The speech had taken hours to write. It’s important, there’s no way he’s going to let himself be distracted by some oversexed playboy pervert of a superhero.
Finally he gets to the end. A few intense and inspiring last words and the audience are on their feet, clapping loudly. Charles acknowledges the applause and hands the microphone back.
Stark brushes his hand again. ‘You have a gorgeous mouth,’ he says under his breath. Charles shivers as the whisper brushes across his skin. No, he is not interested. He isn’t.
God, it’s been a while.
Vindictively, from offstage, he sends a pointed thought of itchiness, specifically itchiness of the bottom. It’s astonishingly childish but watching Stark try not to squirm is worth it.
As he wheels away to find his X-men someone looms up and he feels the unmistakable, ageless presence of an Asguardian mind.
‘Wise words, my friend,’ declaims Thor. ‘You are a mighty leader of men.’
‘Thank you,’ Charles says politely, ‘if it opens just one mind to the mutant cause it will have been worthwhile.’
Thor nods. ‘Struggles never cease,' his voice takes on a deeper, softer note, 'and some struggles, if well fought, lead to victory for both parties. Verily, Tony Stark is a worthy adversary on that battlefield. I have enjoyed many great victories with him.'
‘Battlefield?’ Charles says blankly.
‘The art of passion is a great and noble struggle,’ Thor says. He actually winks.
Good lord. ‘Not you too?’ Charles asks.
Thor takes a small bow. ‘I have had that honour.’
***
He needs to meet with Captain America. He’s in New York, Stark Tower is the obvious venue and he really can’t think of a good excuse not to go. Bugger.
As soon as he gets out of the lift he knows it was a bad idea.
‘Hi gorgeous,’ Stark says, wandering up, ‘I should tell you, you’re already an itch for me, you don’t need to add extras.’
He’s oil-stained, in soft jeans, his bare arms gleaming with sweat. He looks edible.
‘This amounts to sexual harassment,’ Charles says snippily.
Stark holds up his large, sensitive hands and smiles ruefully. ‘Alright, I’ll back off. But just so you know, the offer still stands. Any time, day or night. I’ll be there in a flash, and I absolutely promise you’ll enjoy yourself.’
He’s looking at Charles’s lips again.
Charles ignores it, with some difficulty. ‘I’m here to see Captain America, perhaps you’d direct me to him?’
‘Right that way.’
Stark’s thoughts thrum through the air. He’s watching Charles’s retreating figure, and he’s seeing something intensely desirable. He really does think Charles is gorgeous.
No, no, no, it’s not going to happen.
It’s probably not going to happen.
The meeting with Captain America goes well. Charles likes Steve, he’s decent and straightforward and he’s rapidly shrugging off the few old fashioned taboos of his original era. They plan a few political moves regarding metahumans and discuss the best way to dealt with their overlapping missions. Charles gives an update on one of the Avengers recovering from a mind probe, and they chat about the human and mutant baseball game Steve’s promised to referee.
And then Steve coughs and says, ‘Listen, about Tony.’
Charles freezes. ‘What about Tony?’
‘If you’re worried about the wheelchair, don’t be’ Steve say earnestly. ‘He’s terribly considerate. In fact, he’s the most considerate man I’ve ever… well… you know.’ He smiles shyly and flushes to the tips of his ears.
Charles feels his mouth drop open. Captain America? Is nothing sacred?
***
He has a list.
Charles doesn’t usually do this, but he couldn’t help himself. Tony is sitting at the opposite end of the conference room, staring into space, obviously thinking of something completely unrelated to the entirely boring discussion at hand.
Charles’s curiosity got the better of him.
It’s an actual list. Tony thinks in a bizarrely ordered jumble, and this is very accurately envisaged.
It’s on a mental piece of notepaper, written in varying colours of ink. An awful lot of the names are crossed out.
Charles Xavier is right at the top. It’s triple underlined, with stars around it. There’s a little note: ‘Don’t think I have a chance, but have to keep trying,’ followed by a row of sad faces.
Tony is mentally scribbling a few extra names, but his attention keeps flicking back to the top. He moodily draws another sad face.
Charles desperately tries not to laugh. It’s just so… weirdly endearing. Flattering. Intriguing.
Also, searingly hot, because Tony is thinking about exactly why Charles is top of his list and what he’d do if he ever got the chance. A lot of these are exactly the things Charles has been desperately trying not to think about lately, and some of them are even more interesting. Tony is really, really turned on right now.
So, for that matter, is Charles. Thank God for the conference table.
All the X-men say he’s been working too hard, they’re always telling him to relax. This would be extremely relaxing.
After all, everyone else is doing it. Doing Tony. What’s the harm?
And he’s had really good reviews.
Charles sighs. Who’s he kidding? He wants this, and there’s no damn reason in the world why he shouldn’t have it. He reaches out a tendril of presence, just enough to be noticeable. Tony starts, then looks up across the table and meets Charles’s eyes, openly and seductively. He smiles.
Charles smiles back. He reaches into Tony’s head and, very slowly, crosses off his own name.
***
Oh God. That was really fucking good.
Charles stretches languorously. ‘Five stars.’
Tony grins. He’s pulling on his shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘It was my pleasure.’
‘I know,’ Charles says smugly. ‘So, who’s next on the list? I’ll be happy to write you a reference.’
Tony runs a mental eye down his list. Charles takes another peek. He looks with satisfaction at his own crossed-out name, and tries unsuccessfully not to snoop at the others. Amazing… even robots aren’t safe.
He runs his eyes back up the list. A scrap of paper has been taped to the top. On it are three words.
‘Charles Xavier. Again.’
Charles gives Tony a hard look. Tony ducks his head, almost embarrassed, and shrugs. ‘Just so you know,’ he says, ‘the offer still stands. Any time, day or night.’
Charles lays his head back on the pillow. It's nice to be appreciated. Some day, maybe, he’ll take Tony up on that.