Every Time We Touch
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Rating: PG/T
Word Count: approx 2.5k
Category: Slash, Pairing(s): Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Characters: Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier
Genre: Fluff, Developing relationship
Warnings: none (one brief mention of past physical violence/abuse, but of the extremely vague, blink-and-you'll-miss-it variety)
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, don't make money from this, you know the drill.
Summary: Erik is not a very tactile person. But Charles is. And Erik finds that he really doesn't mind at all.
Also on AO3.
A/N: Title from Cascada's Every Time We Touch. (Shut up, it gets stuck in my head too easily xD)
Feedback is always appreciated ^^
Every Time We Touch
It doesn't take long for Erik to puzzle out that Charles is a tactile person. After all, Charles did have his arms around Erik's torso the moment they met. And it's not that Erik hasn't been in the company of tactile people before or that he has a problem with being touched, it's just that Charles sometimes has a really bad timing, and that, for a telepath, he seems blissfully ignorant of how his touches sometimes seem or how they make Erik feel. But that's just Charles, friendly and polite and Charles, wide blue eyes and sweet red lips and pale skin, smiles and warmth and... And Erik doesn't have the heart to tell him to stop. Besides, it's not like Charles is that way only with him; no, Charles just likes physical contact, with just about anyone in his vicinity. Erik's not sure if that's just how Charles is, or if it's because his mutation is so decidedly not physical, or if maybe he's overcompensating for the loving gestures he didn't get while he was young (although that's really not Erik's business), but it is what it is - Charles would rather reach out and tap his shoulder than call his name, would sooner brush his fingers over Erik's forearm to get attention than interrupt him mid-sentence. Erik lets him, because he really doesn't mind and Charles clearly enjoys the easy physical closeness with people. (Well, maybe also because Charles' hands are always warm and soft, and they make Erik's skin tingle, but he tells himself that really, that's just a minor upside to the whole arrangement.)
Erik prides himself on being an observant individual (he has to be, in his line of... work). This is what he attributes his growingly intimate knowledge of Charles' habits to. Really, the only reason he knows this is the fourth time Charles puts his hand over Raven's, is that he can't help but notice these things, it's second nature to him by now. And he's not watching just Charles. For example, he also knows that Security Guy 2 (Erik doesn't remember his name) did very well in field training today, because Charles smiled brightly at him and gave his shoulder a brief, friendly squeeze. And Hank, Hank is making exceptional progress with his research, if the way Charles put his hand between Hank's shoulder blades and patted Hank's back lightly this morning is any indication. Um, yes. He's not watching just Charles. Honest.
When Charles yawns and politely excuses himself from their routine evening of relaxation and conversation (that Erik generally doesn't participate in, instead letting Hank and Charles rant over new scientific discoveries while Raven huffs that she's bored), Erik pretends he's not acutely aware of the the way Charles' fingers lightly dance over his shoulder and the back of his neck as Charles passes by. He tells himself that, really, this is customary behaviour for Charles, the man just can't stop himself, and there's absolutely nothing special about the way he treats Erik. And Erik is not disappointed by this, really, he doesn't want to hog all of Charles' touches and keep them to himself only, he doesn't feel all hot and giddy and young when Charles' soft skin ghosts over his; he doesn't, scout's honour.
Except that he does.
(He stops lying to himself that night when Charles talks him into staying. It's somehow wrong to have Charles standing so far away, not all up in his personal space, with his restless hands and gentle fingers. Erik feels the lack of Charles' physical touch like cold water on his skin and finds himself missing it, longing for it. The next thing he knows, he's walking back into the CIA building and that's when he realizes what exactly his feelings for Charles are and that there's hardly any point in denying them when they're so clearly there - only Charles could convince him to do something this out of character.)
Sometimes, Charles adjusts Erik's clothes. He brushes off imaginary flint and dust from Erik's shoulders, or tugs the hem of his t-shirt down, or casually rearranges the fall of his jacket, or fixes the fold of his turtleneck. Sometimes, Charles fixes Erik's hair. He brushes an insubordinate strand behind Erik's ear, or runs his fingers through his bangs to mess them up, or laughs as he licks his fingers and combs down a lock that's still standing up at an odd angle from the way Erik slept last night. Sometimes Charles' knee brushes Erik's under the dining table and then Charles shift his attention from whoever it is he's talking to and looks at Erik and smiles a little, and Erik just has to smile back. Sometimes Charles sits really close to him, their sides pressed together, and when he starts talking animatedly, his hands seem to take on a life of their own; then he accidentally nudges Erik with an elbow, or slaps his arm while demonstrating something, and smiles apologetically but doesn't stop his monologue, and he's more conscious of his limbs for a while after that, until he gets too lost in what he's saying and starts flailing again and it starts all over, and Erik thinks it's adorable and then he has to chug his drink before he embarrasses himself somehow.
Sometimes, Charles' fingers brush over his neck while Charles' is straightening his collar, or they ghost over his cheekbone when Charles tucks his hair back; the touch is soft and short and barely there, but it never fails to send a spark through Erik's whole body. Sometimes, something catches Charles' attention and he forgets that his hand is on Erik's shoulder or back so he just leaves it where it is, and Erik feels pleasant waves of warmth spread from there over his skin. Sometimes, Charles gets lost in their conversation and forgets it's his turn in their chess game; then he remembers when it's well past midnight and they're both going to their separate rooms (still immersed in their discussion), and he smiles a little self-deprecatingly and apologizes, wrapping his fingers around Erik's elbow or wrist for good measure. Sometimes, Charles walks next to him and their shoulders bump together and their knuckles brush and Charles looks at him from under his long lashes and gives him a sweet smile that makes Erik's throat close up and his lips itch with need to touch Charles' cheek and forehead and hand and mouth.
And Erik... Erik loves it. Loves the way Charles turns such an archaic way of connecting into something new and different, loves how naturally it all comes to Charles, loves how easy it is to accept it, how comfortable Charles is with being so physical, and how comfortable he makes others feel. Sure, they get a few odd looks when they go out for food and Charles' hand finds its way to Erik's shoulder or forearm or the side of his face, and Erik knows that Charles doesn't mean anything special by touching him so openly and so often, and he wishes he could have more, wants things he knows he won't get from Charles, but he wouldn't trade what he has for the world.
It doesn't have to mean anything, not with Charles and his liberal interpretations of social norms, but Erik wants it to mean everything. He sometimes still tells himself he doesn't, but then he feels the sharp spike of jealousy in his stomach when he sees Charles being cosy with someone else, or Charles touches him, casually, ordinarily, and that alone is enough to make Erik melt, and he knows that he was lying when he said Charles wasn't what he wanted with all his heart.
It doesn't take Erik long to figure out that Charles is a tactile person, but it's only when they start their little road- turns mutant-locating trip, that he sees that Charles is a very tactile person.
Charles, for whatever godforsaken reason, doesn't drive and Erik can't stay awake forever, so they mainly use cabs and trains to get around. Charles always sits pressed close to his side, their arms and legs touching. When he's tired, he leans completely into Erik, places his head on Erik's shoulder and sleeps like that. When he's trying to find a more comfortable position to read in, he somehow always ends up half-lying on Erik's chest. When he talks, he lays his hand on Erik's knee and absently squeezes it every once in a while. Erik thinks it may be some sort of a withdrawal for him, from not having enough people around and only getting to touch Erik, but Charles can't seem to take his hands off of him. Erik's not complaining, but he is confused.
Because... It doesn't escape Erik's notice how Charles leans into him far more than necessary when he speaks, how he lets his lips just brush over the shell of Erik's ear, how his hand easily slides up Erik's thigh, how his fingers ghost over Erik's stomach and chest oh-so-accidentally when he squirms into a better position. Sure, it could be just that Charles craves more contact, but it could also be something else.
With the way Charles is currently draped over the cheap small sofa in their hotel bedroom, his leg glued to Erik's hip to knee, his head resting casually on the arm Erik has tactically placed on the back of the offensively ugly piece of furniture (seriously, mock-gold threads and pink roses?), his eyes darting from the pages of his book to Erik's face every so often... Erik lets himself hope it's something else.
Erik himself has never been one who needed physical contact. In fact, he is usually quite satisfied with staying away from other people, being completely independent and self-sufficient. His time with Shaw has taught him that getting close to people and, worse yet, relying on others never leads to anything but pain and disappointment; his worst days with Shaw have taught him not to expect physical contact to be a pleasure. But Charles is... something else. With Charles, it's easy to fall into the casual intimacy, to enjoy long, silent moments purely for the presence of someone important. Erik doesn't know what it is that makes Charles so special; yes, Charles is brilliant, and interesting, and excitable, and caring, and Erik loves all this, but there's more to it, there's something unique, something Erik can't quite name, but he can feel it. And with Charles, physical contact is just... natural.
So, Erik wraps his arm around Charles' shoulders, acting like it's an unplanned move, while in fact, his every nerve is alight with attention, with expectation of Charles' reaction. Charles snuggles closer, turns a bit so that his back rests on Erik's side and his head is on Erik's shoulder. Erik can smell Charles' hair. It smells like the hotel's mint shampoo, but there's a waft of coconut there as well (which Erik has no idea where Charles managed to catch); Erik finds he quite likes it. Tentatively, he lowers his head and buries his nose in Charles' curls. They're soft and silky and Erik enjoys how they caress his face.
Then Charles moves his head. He looks up with a questioning expression and a quiet hum, tilting his face so he can see Erik. It catches Erik by surprise and he doesn't have enough time to move away before his lips are gently touching the top of Charles' forehead. He freezes, not sure if he should pretend nothing out of the ordinary happened, or maybe give in and press a more firm kiss to Charles' warm, clean, lovely-smelling skin (Charles uses a different soap for his face, one he brought with them from the house, and it smells like berries; sometimes their bathroom smells of it in the evening and Erik shaves very thoroughly, so he's able to bask in the sweet-smelling air).
Charles looks at him for a few more seconds, before he turns back to his book, saying, “You're awfully affectionate tonight, my friend. Is something the matter?”
Erik forces his muscles to relax, but hesitates with his answer. He thinks of how Charles greets every new mutant they meet with a too-long handshake and a too-friendly pat on the arm, how he holds Raven's hand or lets her sleep on his chest, and... well, that's just how Charles is. Except... Charles' hands don't linger quite as much on others as they do on Erik, and his fingers are not quite as clumsy when fixing other people's shirts, and his smiles are not quite as unguarded and open, and his eyes aren't quite as shiny, and...
...and Charles hasn't moved from page 117 in over fifteen minutes.
Erik closes his own book and drops it to the floor, moves his now free hand to Charles' waist, drops a kiss to the top of Charles' head. It's all very new to him, being so casual, touching just for the sake of feeling somebody close, so he's not quite confident he's doing it right, but for Charles, he's willing to give it a shot.
“Maybe I just want to be affectionate tonight,” he says, leaning back into the atrocious sofa and letting Charles' head slide a few inches back so he can look at Charles' face.
Charles grins at him. “Then, by all means,” he replies, waving a hand vaguely over himself as he deposits the book on top of Erik's. “And not just tonight,” he clarifies, one of his hands coming to rest on Erik's forearm where it's pressed to Charles' chest, the other one covering Erik's hand on his side. Erik can finally feel the anxiousness in his body dissipate, evaporate until there's nothing but him and Charles, their bodies tangled together and Charles' loving expression. Erik looks down at him fondly, brushes their noses together, causing Charles to chuckle lightly, before he presses his lips softly to Charles'. Charles moves one of his hands to Erik's hair and smiles into the kiss, his fingertips run over Erik's scalp, and it's... nice. Soothing. Comfortable. Erik can get used to this.
“You could've... said something,” Erik laughs when they part, letting his hands roam over Charles' upper body as Charles sits up so he can bury his face in Erik's neck and kiss him there.
“I didn't think you'd welcome any pressure for... well, for more than you're used to,” Charles answers quietly, and Erik can almost read the words from the feel of Charles' lips moving right behind his ear.
Erik considers this, remembers how little he trusted Charles in the beginning, how certain he was that Charles would give up, leave. He's forced to concede the point; maybe Charles does know him better than he thought. He hugs Charles closer, settling his arms around Charles' back and middle, while Charles nuzzles his neck and lays his head on Erik's shoulder; Erik can feel the flutter of his eyelashes as his eyes close.
“We can play chess, if you like,” Charles offers after an indefinite amount of time that Erik doesn't regret spending just sitting like that, with Charles warm, soft and boneless in his arms, listening to Charles' heartbeat, unusually loud in the quiet room, feeling Charles' damp breaths on his neck. “But I'd rather stay like this for a while longer, if you don't mind,” Charles adds, smiling.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Erik replies to the top of Charles' head, his face in Charles' hair, and closes his eyes. Charles hums contentedly, wraps his arms around Erik's neck and sits in his lap. It's a lot of touching, and a lot of warmth, and a lot of Charles, and Erik will be damned if he's not enjoying every second of it.
Erik doesn't mind touching, he doesn't flinch away when someone reaches for him or have a panic attack if somebody gets too close. For all that, though, he's never been a very tactile person either. But Charles is. And Erik can adjust. In fact, he quite likes adjusting to Charles.
Rating: PG/T
Word Count: approx 2.5k
Category: Slash, Pairing(s): Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Characters: Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier
Genre: Fluff, Developing relationship
Warnings: none (one brief mention of past physical violence/abuse, but of the extremely vague, blink-and-you'll-miss-it variety)
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, don't make money from this, you know the drill.
Summary: Erik is not a very tactile person. But Charles is. And Erik finds that he really doesn't mind at all.
Also on AO3.
A/N: Title from Cascada's Every Time We Touch. (Shut up, it gets stuck in my head too easily xD)
Feedback is always appreciated ^^
Every Time We Touch
It doesn't take long for Erik to puzzle out that Charles is a tactile person. After all, Charles did have his arms around Erik's torso the moment they met. And it's not that Erik hasn't been in the company of tactile people before or that he has a problem with being touched, it's just that Charles sometimes has a really bad timing, and that, for a telepath, he seems blissfully ignorant of how his touches sometimes seem or how they make Erik feel. But that's just Charles, friendly and polite and Charles, wide blue eyes and sweet red lips and pale skin, smiles and warmth and... And Erik doesn't have the heart to tell him to stop. Besides, it's not like Charles is that way only with him; no, Charles just likes physical contact, with just about anyone in his vicinity. Erik's not sure if that's just how Charles is, or if it's because his mutation is so decidedly not physical, or if maybe he's overcompensating for the loving gestures he didn't get while he was young (although that's really not Erik's business), but it is what it is - Charles would rather reach out and tap his shoulder than call his name, would sooner brush his fingers over Erik's forearm to get attention than interrupt him mid-sentence. Erik lets him, because he really doesn't mind and Charles clearly enjoys the easy physical closeness with people. (Well, maybe also because Charles' hands are always warm and soft, and they make Erik's skin tingle, but he tells himself that really, that's just a minor upside to the whole arrangement.)
Erik prides himself on being an observant individual (he has to be, in his line of... work). This is what he attributes his growingly intimate knowledge of Charles' habits to. Really, the only reason he knows this is the fourth time Charles puts his hand over Raven's, is that he can't help but notice these things, it's second nature to him by now. And he's not watching just Charles. For example, he also knows that Security Guy 2 (Erik doesn't remember his name) did very well in field training today, because Charles smiled brightly at him and gave his shoulder a brief, friendly squeeze. And Hank, Hank is making exceptional progress with his research, if the way Charles put his hand between Hank's shoulder blades and patted Hank's back lightly this morning is any indication. Um, yes. He's not watching just Charles. Honest.
When Charles yawns and politely excuses himself from their routine evening of relaxation and conversation (that Erik generally doesn't participate in, instead letting Hank and Charles rant over new scientific discoveries while Raven huffs that she's bored), Erik pretends he's not acutely aware of the the way Charles' fingers lightly dance over his shoulder and the back of his neck as Charles passes by. He tells himself that, really, this is customary behaviour for Charles, the man just can't stop himself, and there's absolutely nothing special about the way he treats Erik. And Erik is not disappointed by this, really, he doesn't want to hog all of Charles' touches and keep them to himself only, he doesn't feel all hot and giddy and young when Charles' soft skin ghosts over his; he doesn't, scout's honour.
Except that he does.
(He stops lying to himself that night when Charles talks him into staying. It's somehow wrong to have Charles standing so far away, not all up in his personal space, with his restless hands and gentle fingers. Erik feels the lack of Charles' physical touch like cold water on his skin and finds himself missing it, longing for it. The next thing he knows, he's walking back into the CIA building and that's when he realizes what exactly his feelings for Charles are and that there's hardly any point in denying them when they're so clearly there - only Charles could convince him to do something this out of character.)
Sometimes, Charles adjusts Erik's clothes. He brushes off imaginary flint and dust from Erik's shoulders, or tugs the hem of his t-shirt down, or casually rearranges the fall of his jacket, or fixes the fold of his turtleneck. Sometimes, Charles fixes Erik's hair. He brushes an insubordinate strand behind Erik's ear, or runs his fingers through his bangs to mess them up, or laughs as he licks his fingers and combs down a lock that's still standing up at an odd angle from the way Erik slept last night. Sometimes Charles' knee brushes Erik's under the dining table and then Charles shift his attention from whoever it is he's talking to and looks at Erik and smiles a little, and Erik just has to smile back. Sometimes Charles sits really close to him, their sides pressed together, and when he starts talking animatedly, his hands seem to take on a life of their own; then he accidentally nudges Erik with an elbow, or slaps his arm while demonstrating something, and smiles apologetically but doesn't stop his monologue, and he's more conscious of his limbs for a while after that, until he gets too lost in what he's saying and starts flailing again and it starts all over, and Erik thinks it's adorable and then he has to chug his drink before he embarrasses himself somehow.
Sometimes, Charles' fingers brush over his neck while Charles' is straightening his collar, or they ghost over his cheekbone when Charles tucks his hair back; the touch is soft and short and barely there, but it never fails to send a spark through Erik's whole body. Sometimes, something catches Charles' attention and he forgets that his hand is on Erik's shoulder or back so he just leaves it where it is, and Erik feels pleasant waves of warmth spread from there over his skin. Sometimes, Charles gets lost in their conversation and forgets it's his turn in their chess game; then he remembers when it's well past midnight and they're both going to their separate rooms (still immersed in their discussion), and he smiles a little self-deprecatingly and apologizes, wrapping his fingers around Erik's elbow or wrist for good measure. Sometimes, Charles walks next to him and their shoulders bump together and their knuckles brush and Charles looks at him from under his long lashes and gives him a sweet smile that makes Erik's throat close up and his lips itch with need to touch Charles' cheek and forehead and hand and mouth.
And Erik... Erik loves it. Loves the way Charles turns such an archaic way of connecting into something new and different, loves how naturally it all comes to Charles, loves how easy it is to accept it, how comfortable Charles is with being so physical, and how comfortable he makes others feel. Sure, they get a few odd looks when they go out for food and Charles' hand finds its way to Erik's shoulder or forearm or the side of his face, and Erik knows that Charles doesn't mean anything special by touching him so openly and so often, and he wishes he could have more, wants things he knows he won't get from Charles, but he wouldn't trade what he has for the world.
It doesn't have to mean anything, not with Charles and his liberal interpretations of social norms, but Erik wants it to mean everything. He sometimes still tells himself he doesn't, but then he feels the sharp spike of jealousy in his stomach when he sees Charles being cosy with someone else, or Charles touches him, casually, ordinarily, and that alone is enough to make Erik melt, and he knows that he was lying when he said Charles wasn't what he wanted with all his heart.
It doesn't take Erik long to figure out that Charles is a tactile person, but it's only when they start their little road- turns mutant-locating trip, that he sees that Charles is a very tactile person.
Charles, for whatever godforsaken reason, doesn't drive and Erik can't stay awake forever, so they mainly use cabs and trains to get around. Charles always sits pressed close to his side, their arms and legs touching. When he's tired, he leans completely into Erik, places his head on Erik's shoulder and sleeps like that. When he's trying to find a more comfortable position to read in, he somehow always ends up half-lying on Erik's chest. When he talks, he lays his hand on Erik's knee and absently squeezes it every once in a while. Erik thinks it may be some sort of a withdrawal for him, from not having enough people around and only getting to touch Erik, but Charles can't seem to take his hands off of him. Erik's not complaining, but he is confused.
Because... It doesn't escape Erik's notice how Charles leans into him far more than necessary when he speaks, how he lets his lips just brush over the shell of Erik's ear, how his hand easily slides up Erik's thigh, how his fingers ghost over Erik's stomach and chest oh-so-accidentally when he squirms into a better position. Sure, it could be just that Charles craves more contact, but it could also be something else.
With the way Charles is currently draped over the cheap small sofa in their hotel bedroom, his leg glued to Erik's hip to knee, his head resting casually on the arm Erik has tactically placed on the back of the offensively ugly piece of furniture (seriously, mock-gold threads and pink roses?), his eyes darting from the pages of his book to Erik's face every so often... Erik lets himself hope it's something else.
Erik himself has never been one who needed physical contact. In fact, he is usually quite satisfied with staying away from other people, being completely independent and self-sufficient. His time with Shaw has taught him that getting close to people and, worse yet, relying on others never leads to anything but pain and disappointment; his worst days with Shaw have taught him not to expect physical contact to be a pleasure. But Charles is... something else. With Charles, it's easy to fall into the casual intimacy, to enjoy long, silent moments purely for the presence of someone important. Erik doesn't know what it is that makes Charles so special; yes, Charles is brilliant, and interesting, and excitable, and caring, and Erik loves all this, but there's more to it, there's something unique, something Erik can't quite name, but he can feel it. And with Charles, physical contact is just... natural.
So, Erik wraps his arm around Charles' shoulders, acting like it's an unplanned move, while in fact, his every nerve is alight with attention, with expectation of Charles' reaction. Charles snuggles closer, turns a bit so that his back rests on Erik's side and his head is on Erik's shoulder. Erik can smell Charles' hair. It smells like the hotel's mint shampoo, but there's a waft of coconut there as well (which Erik has no idea where Charles managed to catch); Erik finds he quite likes it. Tentatively, he lowers his head and buries his nose in Charles' curls. They're soft and silky and Erik enjoys how they caress his face.
Then Charles moves his head. He looks up with a questioning expression and a quiet hum, tilting his face so he can see Erik. It catches Erik by surprise and he doesn't have enough time to move away before his lips are gently touching the top of Charles' forehead. He freezes, not sure if he should pretend nothing out of the ordinary happened, or maybe give in and press a more firm kiss to Charles' warm, clean, lovely-smelling skin (Charles uses a different soap for his face, one he brought with them from the house, and it smells like berries; sometimes their bathroom smells of it in the evening and Erik shaves very thoroughly, so he's able to bask in the sweet-smelling air).
Charles looks at him for a few more seconds, before he turns back to his book, saying, “You're awfully affectionate tonight, my friend. Is something the matter?”
Erik forces his muscles to relax, but hesitates with his answer. He thinks of how Charles greets every new mutant they meet with a too-long handshake and a too-friendly pat on the arm, how he holds Raven's hand or lets her sleep on his chest, and... well, that's just how Charles is. Except... Charles' hands don't linger quite as much on others as they do on Erik, and his fingers are not quite as clumsy when fixing other people's shirts, and his smiles are not quite as unguarded and open, and his eyes aren't quite as shiny, and...
...and Charles hasn't moved from page 117 in over fifteen minutes.
Erik closes his own book and drops it to the floor, moves his now free hand to Charles' waist, drops a kiss to the top of Charles' head. It's all very new to him, being so casual, touching just for the sake of feeling somebody close, so he's not quite confident he's doing it right, but for Charles, he's willing to give it a shot.
“Maybe I just want to be affectionate tonight,” he says, leaning back into the atrocious sofa and letting Charles' head slide a few inches back so he can look at Charles' face.
Charles grins at him. “Then, by all means,” he replies, waving a hand vaguely over himself as he deposits the book on top of Erik's. “And not just tonight,” he clarifies, one of his hands coming to rest on Erik's forearm where it's pressed to Charles' chest, the other one covering Erik's hand on his side. Erik can finally feel the anxiousness in his body dissipate, evaporate until there's nothing but him and Charles, their bodies tangled together and Charles' loving expression. Erik looks down at him fondly, brushes their noses together, causing Charles to chuckle lightly, before he presses his lips softly to Charles'. Charles moves one of his hands to Erik's hair and smiles into the kiss, his fingertips run over Erik's scalp, and it's... nice. Soothing. Comfortable. Erik can get used to this.
“You could've... said something,” Erik laughs when they part, letting his hands roam over Charles' upper body as Charles sits up so he can bury his face in Erik's neck and kiss him there.
“I didn't think you'd welcome any pressure for... well, for more than you're used to,” Charles answers quietly, and Erik can almost read the words from the feel of Charles' lips moving right behind his ear.
Erik considers this, remembers how little he trusted Charles in the beginning, how certain he was that Charles would give up, leave. He's forced to concede the point; maybe Charles does know him better than he thought. He hugs Charles closer, settling his arms around Charles' back and middle, while Charles nuzzles his neck and lays his head on Erik's shoulder; Erik can feel the flutter of his eyelashes as his eyes close.
“We can play chess, if you like,” Charles offers after an indefinite amount of time that Erik doesn't regret spending just sitting like that, with Charles warm, soft and boneless in his arms, listening to Charles' heartbeat, unusually loud in the quiet room, feeling Charles' damp breaths on his neck. “But I'd rather stay like this for a while longer, if you don't mind,” Charles adds, smiling.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Erik replies to the top of Charles' head, his face in Charles' hair, and closes his eyes. Charles hums contentedly, wraps his arms around Erik's neck and sits in his lap. It's a lot of touching, and a lot of warmth, and a lot of Charles, and Erik will be damned if he's not enjoying every second of it.
Erik doesn't mind touching, he doesn't flinch away when someone reaches for him or have a panic attack if somebody gets too close. For all that, though, he's never been a very tactile person either. But Charles is. And Erik can adjust. In fact, he quite likes adjusting to Charles.