Fill: Saving Face (1/?)
anonymous
September 6 2011, 02:47:05 UTC
((Followed you over from the other meme, anon. Hope this is a decent start and close to what you were looking for. It'll probably end up being something like three or four parts. Let's see if I can stay anon this time...))
---
This whole thing was fucking ridiculous.
The moonlight was strong as it spread across the expanse of his room. It drowned out the tiny sparks of stars dotting the cloudless sky over the grounds. Erik wished it were darker, raining perhaps. That would better suit his mood.
The faint outline of the senior’s south dorm could be seen from his window, and Erik wished-not for the first time-that the building would simply up and disappear. Or at least that his window faced the other direction. He rubbed at his fore head with his thumb and forefingers, trying to ward away the budding headache building within his skull. Flashes of the happenings of that afternoon flickered in the splotches of color that broke through the darkness behind his eyelids.
The smooth skin of a collarbone beneath his lips, the salty tang of sweat harsh on his tongue.
Long fingers running through the knot of that damnable uniform tie, pulling it apart in hopes of reaching bare flesh all the faster.
That slim torso writhing beneath him, the hard bones of their hips grinding together almost painfully in an attempt to get closer, closer, closer. They’d never be close enough.
The memories were quickly becoming too much. His hands flew away from his face and he growled at himself, for giving into this weakness. Erik walked over to his bed and set himself down on the comforter he’d brought over from his flat. The soft, faded green fabric of the binding was starting to come loose in one corner. He’d have to fix that later, after this job had run its course.
A thin spray of thread was jutting out from the comforter like a banner. A testament to the quilt’s antiquity, he supposed. Erik ran his fingers over the threads, barely registering the way they rolled about between his thumb and forefinger. Charles would be so disappointed in his choice of décor.
“I’ve never been that fond of green, you know,” Charles mumbled as he fingered the smooth fabric of the tie wrapped around his throat. “It’s really not the most flattering of colors.” He brought the end of the tie up close to his eyes as though to inspect it, and his face scrunched up in distaste. “For anything, really.”
Erik paused in his grading and stared at the boy sitting across the table from him, perplexed and mildly annoyed. “And that has to do with power series how?”
“It doesn’t, Mr. Lenscherr.” Charles let the tie drop back to his chest. He leaned back over the papers scattered about on the desk in front of him, trying to once again focus his energy back on his homework. “But this is awfully tedious work, you’re not that interesting outside of class and I thought it might lighten the mood.”
“I’m not paid to be interesting.” Erik shook his head and turned back to grading. If he went by the number of red marks slashed across the pages, his students were obviously not paying as much attention as they should be to his lectures. More bookwork was in order. “And all that aside, detention is not supposed to be enjoyable, Mr. Xavier. You still have another thirty minutes to go before I send you off to dinner.”
He wasn’t sure how this whole thing had started, but he couldn’t leave it up to his student, little more than a boy, to stop this. Erik had to be the adult here. He had to be the one to end this. It wasn’t fair to Charles if he kept this on. He buried his face in his hands and tried to slow the mad beating of his heart within his chest.
This was wrong. This was very, very wrong.
Charles’s breath hot against his ear.
He was a teacher, not some hormone-driven teenager desperate for a warm body to press himself against for a quick fuck. This was wrong.
Those strong, limber hands tangled into the short ends of his hair as Charles’s mouth melted against his own, hot and moist and intoxicating.
---
This whole thing was fucking ridiculous.
The moonlight was strong as it spread across the expanse of his room. It drowned out the tiny sparks of stars dotting the cloudless sky over the grounds. Erik wished it were darker, raining perhaps. That would better suit his mood.
The faint outline of the senior’s south dorm could be seen from his window, and Erik wished-not for the first time-that the building would simply up and disappear. Or at least that his window faced the other direction. He rubbed at his fore head with his thumb and forefingers, trying to ward away the budding headache building within his skull. Flashes of the happenings of that afternoon flickered in the splotches of color that broke through the darkness behind his eyelids.
The smooth skin of a collarbone beneath his lips, the salty tang of sweat harsh on his tongue.
Long fingers running through the knot of that damnable uniform tie, pulling it apart in hopes of reaching bare flesh all the faster.
That slim torso writhing beneath him, the hard bones of their hips grinding together almost painfully in an attempt to get closer, closer, closer. They’d never be close enough.
The memories were quickly becoming too much. His hands flew away from his face and he growled at himself, for giving into this weakness. Erik walked over to his bed and set himself down on the comforter he’d brought over from his flat. The soft, faded green fabric of the binding was starting to come loose in one corner. He’d have to fix that later, after this job had run its course.
A thin spray of thread was jutting out from the comforter like a banner. A testament to the quilt’s antiquity, he supposed. Erik ran his fingers over the threads, barely registering the way they rolled about between his thumb and forefinger. Charles would be so disappointed in his choice of décor.
“I’ve never been that fond of green, you know,” Charles mumbled as he fingered the smooth fabric of the tie wrapped around his throat. “It’s really not the most flattering of colors.” He brought the end of the tie up close to his eyes as though to inspect it, and his face scrunched up in distaste. “For anything, really.”
Erik paused in his grading and stared at the boy sitting across the table from him, perplexed and mildly annoyed. “And that has to do with power series how?”
“It doesn’t, Mr. Lenscherr.” Charles let the tie drop back to his chest. He leaned back over the papers scattered about on the desk in front of him, trying to once again focus his energy back on his homework. “But this is awfully tedious work, you’re not that interesting outside of class and I thought it might lighten the mood.”
“I’m not paid to be interesting.” Erik shook his head and turned back to grading. If he went by the number of red marks slashed across the pages, his students were obviously not paying as much attention as they should be to his lectures. More bookwork was in order. “And all that aside, detention is not supposed to be enjoyable, Mr. Xavier. You still have another thirty minutes to go before I send you off to dinner.”
He wasn’t sure how this whole thing had started, but he couldn’t leave it up to his student, little more than a boy, to stop this. Erik had to be the adult here. He had to be the one to end this. It wasn’t fair to Charles if he kept this on. He buried his face in his hands and tried to slow the mad beating of his heart within his chest.
This was wrong. This was very, very wrong.
Charles’s breath hot against his ear.
He was a teacher, not some hormone-driven teenager desperate for a warm body to press himself against for a quick fuck. This was wrong.
Those strong, limber hands tangled into the short ends of his hair as Charles’s mouth melted against his own, hot and moist and intoxicating.
But god forgive him, he wasn’t going to stop.
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