Fill: Peregrine (4/?)aeshna_ukOctober 12 2011, 07:22:09 UTC
Settling in behind Erik once more, Charles returned to his preening, to the familiar slide of fingers over feathers, of emotions slipping into a comfortable state of constant, low-key pleasure. Technically, he knew, Erik's wings should not be functional, the condition of his plumage immaterial. The human body was too heavy for self-powered flight and ill-equipped to contain the musculature needed for bird-like wings to tear it free from gravity's demands. But Erik's gift was not restricted to his extra limbs - his control of metals seemed to also encompass an ability to harness the magnetic fields of the earth itself, buoying him up as he flew and allowing him to manage otherwise impossible manoeuvres such as hovering. It was entirely possible that Erik would be able to fly even without his wings, carried aloft by invisible energies.
But whatever Erik's other gifts, the wings were an undeniable and all too visible part of his mutation, a psychological necessity for flight if not a physical one. And there was something quite glorious to seeing him stoop and soar, riding the winds in a way that looked so much more natural than Sean's sonic-powered efforts.
Charles took his time, working steadily across the wing and letting himself sink into the quiet peace that had overtaken Erik's thoughts. "This is comforting to you, isn't it?" he murmured. "Being preened?"
"Feels nice." Erik arched his back, the fine contour feathers than ran down his spine from nape to coccyx fluffing for a moment before settling once again. "Better when you do it. Can reach more easily."
Which made sense - even at the best of times, there were some major contortions required for Erik to be able to reach some of his secondary coverts. "Well, I'm glad that I can be of help." Charles smiled, and stroked a hand oer the subtle aerodynamic curve of the wing. "It's good to see you like this. You've let go of your anger, if only for a little while."
Erik huffed quietly. "Need it," he said calmly. "When Schmidt - when Shaw - is dead, then... then I will let it go."
"Yes, well." Charles still couldn't bring himself to condone the deliberate killing of another human being, no matter their crimes... but he also couldn't forget the images he'd plucked from Erik's mind, that first night they'd met, no more than he could forget the fresh injuries that Erik had carried. And he couldn't imagine how the authorities might contain the man.... "There are times when I envy you your certainty, my friend. And there are times when I fear it."
A soft, throaty chuckle. "I could say the same to you."
"Touché." It occurred to Charles that perhaps they should try to develop some training exercises for when Erik was in this mental state - while his flight was a constant skill, his control of his ferrokineticism appeared to have an strongly emotional component to it. But... not now, not tonight, when Erik was so utterly relaxed beneath his hands. He completed preening the wing in silence, signalling his completion by patting Erik's shoulders and beginning to work his way down his feathered back. Erik responded by quickly wriggling out of his trousers and resting on his hands and knees to allow Charles access to the base of his spine, sighing in happy relief as feathers rumpled by the confines of cloth were carefully smoothed back into place.
"There," Charles said at last. "Done."
Erik mumbled something in response and Charles smiled and clambered across the mattress until he was facing his friend. There was something rather exquisite about seeing Erik like this - kneeling on the bed with his head bowed and his arms held stiff in front of him so that his weight rested on the heels of his hands, his wings half-furled above him. He was quite unselfconscious in his nakedness and Charles could see every scar that marred his skin, could see the rough tattoo on his left forearm, all the cruel marks of a life that had known far too much pain.
Erik's body spoke of violence, given and received and promised, but his mind - for now - was at peace with the world.
My fallen angel, Charles thought to himself, feeling a surge of sudden affection for the man before him. He reached out, lifting Erik's chin with a gentle finger, and leaned in to kiss him.
But whatever Erik's other gifts, the wings were an undeniable and all too visible part of his mutation, a psychological necessity for flight if not a physical one. And there was something quite glorious to seeing him stoop and soar, riding the winds in a way that looked so much more natural than Sean's sonic-powered efforts.
Charles took his time, working steadily across the wing and letting himself sink into the quiet peace that had overtaken Erik's thoughts. "This is comforting to you, isn't it?" he murmured. "Being preened?"
"Feels nice." Erik arched his back, the fine contour feathers than ran down his spine from nape to coccyx fluffing for a moment before settling once again. "Better when you do it. Can reach more easily."
Which made sense - even at the best of times, there were some major contortions required for Erik to be able to reach some of his secondary coverts. "Well, I'm glad that I can be of help." Charles smiled, and stroked a hand oer the subtle aerodynamic curve of the wing. "It's good to see you like this. You've let go of your anger, if only for a little while."
Erik huffed quietly. "Need it," he said calmly. "When Schmidt - when Shaw - is dead, then... then I will let it go."
"Yes, well." Charles still couldn't bring himself to condone the deliberate killing of another human being, no matter their crimes... but he also couldn't forget the images he'd plucked from Erik's mind, that first night they'd met, no more than he could forget the fresh injuries that Erik had carried. And he couldn't imagine how the authorities might contain the man.... "There are times when I envy you your certainty, my friend. And there are times when I fear it."
A soft, throaty chuckle. "I could say the same to you."
"Touché." It occurred to Charles that perhaps they should try to develop some training exercises for when Erik was in this mental state - while his flight was a constant skill, his control of his ferrokineticism appeared to have an strongly emotional component to it. But... not now, not tonight, when Erik was so utterly relaxed beneath his hands. He completed preening the wing in silence, signalling his completion by patting Erik's shoulders and beginning to work his way down his feathered back. Erik responded by quickly wriggling out of his trousers and resting on his hands and knees to allow Charles access to the base of his spine, sighing in happy relief as feathers rumpled by the confines of cloth were carefully smoothed back into place.
"There," Charles said at last. "Done."
Erik mumbled something in response and Charles smiled and clambered across the mattress until he was facing his friend. There was something rather exquisite about seeing Erik like this - kneeling on the bed with his head bowed and his arms held stiff in front of him so that his weight rested on the heels of his hands, his wings half-furled above him. He was quite unselfconscious in his nakedness and Charles could see every scar that marred his skin, could see the rough tattoo on his left forearm, all the cruel marks of a life that had known far too much pain.
Erik's body spoke of violence, given and received and promised, but his mind - for now - was at peace with the world.
My fallen angel, Charles thought to himself, feeling a surge of sudden affection for the man before him. He reached out, lifting Erik's chin with a gentle finger, and leaned in to kiss him.
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