FILL: That Ocean is Not Silent Part 1/2 (Erik/Charles) NC-17atavistiqueJuly 21 2011, 09:30:51 UTC
They have somehow ended up in one hotel room with a double bed. This may or may not have had something to do with Charles’ subtly hopeful mental nudges to the concierge when they were booking themselves into what the woman assured them was the last room available.
In any case, Charles makes himself comfortable on the bed and sips his Darjeeling (plane flights always dehydrates him so) as Erik disappears into the bathroom to freshen up before they go meet their new recruit; his mind carelessly registers fragments of Erik’s quiet self-commentatory as he shaves, combs his hair, takes a piss and sweeps out the wrinkles of his trousers.
He is already standing up, ready to go, when Erik emerges in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, and takes Charles’ breath momentarily away.
Is that a three-piece suit?
Bespoke, Erik projects back, a small but distinctly smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thought I had better make a good impression.”
“Well, consider me suitably impressed*, my friend,” Charles replies, his eyes drifting appreciatively downwards at the way the dark cloth cascades down impossibly long legs, and catches Erik’s frown as he knots and un-knots his tie. “Please, allow me.”
He wills his hands not to shake as he works at the full Windsor around Erik’s throat and slides the knot up until it fit snugly under his Adam’s apple, the smell of shaving cream and pomade an intoxicating mix more potent than any aphrodisiac.
“Done,” Charles looks up with a smile and falters, his fingers lingering on Erik’s waistcoat with the prior pretense of picking away nonexistent lint, finding himself staring into gray eyes, made almost mercurial by the contrasting fabric. The depths of emotion, a hidden dynamic of heat behind the sheen of metal, makes his heart stutter quite painfully.
Erik -
His brain conjures up a plethora of filthy images all on its own; Erik’s hands all over him, caressing, squeezing, intruding unmercifully, Charles biting down on his tie; Charles sobbing and begging under the ministrations, with Erik still fully clothed in that suit, arousal straining against his trousers -
Erik’s eyes turn dark and predatory and Charles has to fight the instinct to take a step backwards. Instead, he wets his suddenly dry lips with the tip of his tongue. Erik growls what are you doing in his head, and Charles does it again; he can’t help it.
It takes him all of three seconds to realize Erik is kissing him, lips hard and insistent and full of hunger. He allows his mouth to open and his eyes to close, as Erik licks into him, as if intending to actually devour him inside out; Charles shivers and moans, his hands wandering from around Erik’s neck and waist to that magnificent behind, and moans again at the feeling of taut muscle under the wool/silk mix.
His belt and zipper undo themselves; he almost cries out in surprise as a rough hand grasps him though his briefs.
Is this what you want, he hears in his mind, and he shakes his head, more. I want more, I need -
*[A/N: I apologize for Charles’ cringe-worthy punning.] A/N2: Ahem. Rookie writer, moi. Sorry for any mistakes/annoying habits/awkward phrasing.;A;
Re: FILL: That Ocean is Not Silent Part 2/2 (Erik/Charles) NC-17atavistiqueJuly 21 2011, 09:36:32 UTC
He is dimly aware of Erik kneeling down on the carpet, and feels his erection jump in anticipation, the wetness staining the front of his underwear. Erik sends him an image of himself through his eyes, mouth red and hair disheveled, shirt halfway unbuttoned, and Erik, still impeccably dressed, his long fingers freeing Charles’ -
Erik tongues at the head for one lonely moment, then swallows him in one take, and Charles really does cry out. He tries to clutch at Erik’s hair, but is swatted away.
Be good for me, Charles, Erik purrs in his mind, and it’s all he could do not to come on the spot at the intimacy of their thoughts, minds melding into one passion, tight and wound together like two strands of string in a rope. He seizes the back of a chair for support and lets out a barely-muffled groan as Erik’s tongue swipes across the underside of his hardness, licking, sucking, hot and tight and taking him impossibly deep - Charles’ head snaps back; his mind is gone, a litany of yessohotsogoodyeserikgodyes -
Open your eyes, he hears, and he does so, because at this point he’s willing to so anything Erik says, anything at all.
Erik’s lips are wrapped around him, wet and swollen. His hair is perfect and his eyes are electrifying, the colour of stormclouds ready to unleash itself in the sky, and his suit, that precious suit, unbothered and unwrinkled, betraying nothing about the body beneath it, straining to release. That someone could look so ultimately unhassled and thoroughly debauched, Charles thinks blearily, and Erik grins around his cock, sending him shuddering from the fresh spark of desire up his spine.
Erik, I can’t -
I want to taste you, Erik says inside him, and that’s it, there is nothing Charles can do or would want to do to stop himself from spilling over from the marrow of his bones, with a long, winded, breathless sound that he would never be able to remember without blushing. And Erik just takes it, in that suit that is perfection objectified, and drinks it down like he was born to do so.
Charles almost slides to the floor himself as Erik stands up, dusting off the knees of his trousers. He reaches for the unmistakable bulge, but Erik beats him to it by kissing him soundly again, leaving him shaky and a little disorientated.
“Are you - “
“I will be fine,” Erik mouths into his neck hoarsely, “But I regret to say we’re already very late.”
Charles stamps down on the sense of disappointment and annoyance that burns in his gut. Maybe later, then.
Erik smiles against Charles’ skin. Later.
A/N: I will now go dig a hole and bury myself. Godicannotbelieveiactuallywrotethat.
Re: FILL: That Ocean is Not Silent Part 2/2 (Erik/Charles) NC-17atavistiqueJuly 21 2011, 12:11:35 UTC
Hahaha, thank you <3 So glad to know you liked it! I never knew writing porn was this mortifying, it creates a whole new level of respect for my favourite writers...
In any case, Charles makes himself comfortable on the bed and sips his Darjeeling (plane flights always dehydrates him so) as Erik disappears into the bathroom to freshen up before they go meet their new recruit; his mind carelessly registers fragments of Erik’s quiet self-commentatory as he shaves, combs his hair, takes a piss and sweeps out the wrinkles of his trousers.
He is already standing up, ready to go, when Erik emerges in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, and takes Charles’ breath momentarily away.
Is that a three-piece suit?
Bespoke, Erik projects back, a small but distinctly smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thought I had better make a good impression.”
“Well, consider me suitably impressed*, my friend,” Charles replies, his eyes drifting appreciatively downwards at the way the dark cloth cascades down impossibly long legs, and catches Erik’s frown as he knots and un-knots his tie. “Please, allow me.”
He wills his hands not to shake as he works at the full Windsor around Erik’s throat and slides the knot up until it fit snugly under his Adam’s apple, the smell of shaving cream and pomade an intoxicating mix more potent than any aphrodisiac.
“Done,” Charles looks up with a smile and falters, his fingers lingering on Erik’s waistcoat with the prior pretense of picking away nonexistent lint, finding himself staring into gray eyes, made almost mercurial by the contrasting fabric. The depths of emotion, a hidden dynamic of heat behind the sheen of metal, makes his heart stutter quite painfully.
Erik -
His brain conjures up a plethora of filthy images all on its own; Erik’s hands all over him, caressing, squeezing, intruding unmercifully, Charles biting down on his tie; Charles sobbing and begging under the ministrations, with Erik still fully clothed in that suit, arousal straining against his trousers -
Erik’s eyes turn dark and predatory and Charles has to fight the instinct to take a step backwards. Instead, he wets his suddenly dry lips with the tip of his tongue. Erik growls what are you doing in his head, and Charles does it again; he can’t help it.
It takes him all of three seconds to realize Erik is kissing him, lips hard and insistent and full of hunger. He allows his mouth to open and his eyes to close, as Erik licks into him, as if intending to actually devour him inside out; Charles shivers and moans, his hands wandering from around Erik’s neck and waist to that magnificent behind, and moans again at the feeling of taut muscle under the wool/silk mix.
His belt and zipper undo themselves; he almost cries out in surprise as a rough hand grasps him though his briefs.
Is this what you want, he hears in his mind, and he shakes his head, more. I want more, I need -
*[A/N: I apologize for Charles’ cringe-worthy punning.]
A/N2: Ahem. Rookie writer, moi. Sorry for any mistakes/annoying habits/awkward phrasing.;A;
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Erik tongues at the head for one lonely moment, then swallows him in one take, and Charles really does cry out. He tries to clutch at Erik’s hair, but is swatted away.
Be good for me, Charles, Erik purrs in his mind, and it’s all he could do not to come on the spot at the intimacy of their thoughts, minds melding into one passion, tight and wound together like two strands of string in a rope. He seizes the back of a chair for support and lets out a barely-muffled groan as Erik’s tongue swipes across the underside of his hardness, licking, sucking, hot and tight and taking him impossibly deep - Charles’ head snaps back; his mind is gone, a litany of yessohotsogoodyeserikgodyes -
Open your eyes, he hears, and he does so, because at this point he’s willing to so anything Erik says, anything at all.
Erik’s lips are wrapped around him, wet and swollen. His hair is perfect and his eyes are electrifying, the colour of stormclouds ready to unleash itself in the sky, and his suit, that precious suit, unbothered and unwrinkled, betraying nothing about the body beneath it, straining to release. That someone could look so ultimately unhassled and thoroughly debauched, Charles thinks blearily, and Erik grins around his cock, sending him shuddering from the fresh spark of desire up his spine.
Erik, I can’t -
I want to taste you, Erik says inside him, and that’s it, there is nothing Charles can do or would want to do to stop himself from spilling over from the marrow of his bones, with a long, winded, breathless sound that he would never be able to remember without blushing. And Erik just takes it, in that suit that is perfection objectified, and drinks it down like he was born to do so.
Charles almost slides to the floor himself as Erik stands up, dusting off the knees of his trousers. He reaches for the unmistakable bulge, but Erik beats him to it by kissing him soundly again, leaving him shaky and a little disorientated.
“Are you - “
“I will be fine,” Erik mouths into his neck hoarsely, “But I regret to say we’re already very late.”
Charles stamps down on the sense of disappointment and annoyance that burns in his gut. Maybe later, then.
Erik smiles against Charles’ skin. Later.
A/N: I will now go dig a hole and bury myself. Godicannotbelieveiactuallywrotethat.
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This was really nicely done, I second the call to keep at it - this is a wonderful first attempt!
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That was AMAZINGLY HAWT!!
Don't you dare be ashamed of that! Soooo freakin' perfect!
♥
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And HNNGG JAMES WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO US WHYYYY
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Keep at it, please.
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ERIK GIVING CHARLES A BLOWJOB OH MY GOD HELLO PERFECTION INDEED.
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I was afraid it might be a little OOC to be honest, but apparently noone minds XD
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