Floor Show
“For that, daddy-o, you get a private dance,” the stripper said, leaning down and plucking the dollar out of Erik’s fingers. Erik turned and smirked at Charles - something between a smirk and a leer, as though he couldn’t believe their luck, and Charles grinned delightedly back and thought to himself, “Daddy-o. I’ll have to file that one for future reference.”
They settled on the bed together, his foot brushing along Erik’s ankle, just close enough that the girl leveled a dubious glance at them, as though she half-guessed that this was not the first time they had shared a bed and that generally they were not both fully dressed in suits when this occurred.
Charles could not wait to get back to the hotel.
--
“For that, daddy-o, you get a private dance,” Charles purred, opening the door from the bathroom.
Erik was lying on the bed wearing only a robe, hair still a little damp, and he looked more puzzled than titillated.
“What?” he said.
“You heard me,” Charles said, leaning against the bathroom door so it clicked shut and beginning to unbutton his sweater.
“What did you just call me?” Erik said, swallowing.
“Daddy-o,” Charles said. He undid the last button of the sweater and found himself smirking. Erik was smiling now, but Charles could still read the confusion in his eyes. Charles sauntered over to their record player and turned it on and placed the needle in its groove and sauntered back to the doorway to the bathroom and shrugged the sweater off his shoulders and let it fall into an untidy heap at his feet. He shimmied experimentally.
“You’re not actually giving me a private dance,” Erik choked, starting to laugh. “And please don’t call me that.”
“Am I not?” Charles said, glancing at him. “I think you could do with one.”
“Charles,” Erik said, half-despairing. “You can’t be serious.”
“Dreadfully serious,” Charles said, unfastening the top button of his shirt. He prowled over to the bed and straddled Erik’s legs.
“Charles,” Erik said. “I hate to break this to you, but you’re a professor of genetics, not a stripper.”
“I’m not,” Charles said. “A professor has to have a teaching - position.” He leaned down and pushed the bathrobe open and licked a line slowly up Erik’s chest. “I don’t have a teaching position.” He sat back up and rocked back on his hips a little and worried his lower lip with his teeth in what he seemed to think was a sensual manner.
Erik was laughing again. “Subtle but meaningful distinction,” he said.
“Don’t mock me,” Charles said, climbing off him.
“You’re the one giving me a private dance,” Erik said.
“I’m never going to live this down,” Charles said, looking a little defeated. Then his eyes glinted. “Would you like to see another trick?"
“Is this going to be like the time you assured me you could tie a knot in a cherry stem with your teeth?” Erik said. It had been a rather boring half-hour of watching Charles squint and mutter, “Hang on, I really thought I had it that time.”
“You told me I had all the raw sensuality of Stanley Baldwin,” Charles said, looking a little ruffled.
“I’m sorry,” Erik said, reaching out and catching Charles’ hand and planting a hot kiss into the palm. Charles shivered involuntarily and his lips parted.
“God you’re sexy,” Erik said.
“I wasn’t even doing anything,” Charles said.
“That’s what’s so frustrating about it,” Erik said. “You aren’t even trying. You have no idea that you do this to me. Just looking. Just - the way your mouth quirks up when you smile. The noises you make when I touch you.”
Charles’ trousers were suddenly uncomfortably tight.
“Do you ever touch yourself?” Erik asked, his eyes flickering down to the bulge in Charles’ pants. “My adorable lab rat?” Charles’ eyes widened and darted towards him with a question. “Would you, for me?”
“Now?” Charles said, and without waiting for an answer he began unfastening the last of his shirt buttons and reaching for the belt - then Erik’s eyes flickered to his waist and the belt was gone, and Charles could see Erik’s eagerness, his arousal under the bathrobe.
“That’s the idea,” Erik said.
Then Charles shoved his pants down past his hips so they pooled at his ankles, and reached a hand into his undershorts, and Erik hissed, “No. Let me see you, this isn’t public school.”
“I didn’t do this at public school,” Charles managed, tugging off the underwear and stepping out of the puddle of clothes and standing there before him a little reticent and fully aroused, and Erik gave a little gasp as Charles wrapped one hand around himself and began stroking leisurely, and said, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Okay, daddy-o,” Charles purred, and the mischievous glint in his eyes made Erik grin in spite of himself. “Or I could - show you another trick.”
“No more tricks Charles,” Erik managed. “You’re doing so well."
Then Charles’ grin was suddenly absolutely vulpine and knowing and Erik felt an abject tug of lust at his stomach and his cock strained painfully against the bathrobe. “Shut your eyes a moment,” Charles said, and Erik said, “Charles what, just please, no cake this time,” thinking back to another recent disaster, but obeyed.
“Open them,” Charles said, a few moments later, and Erik’s jaw dropped open and he was suddenly harder than he’d ever been in his life.
In front of him were two Charles’, both gloriously naked, one of them sedately fingering his brow, the other one standing behind him, and Erik hissed, “Oh God, what is this?”
“Mind trick," Charles said, innocently. "You wanted to watch me touch myself." His hand wrapped around the white curve of the other Charles’ buttocks and pulled him in closer, and Erik muttered, “Charles you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” and Charles turned and glanced at him and said, “No, I think I have a very good idea,” and grasped the other Charles by the face and kissed him.
The sound Erik made was almost too much.
Charles ran the flat of his hand caressingly along the other Charles’ chest, and Erik let out a helpless moan and managed, “It’s not even my birthday,” and then both Charles’ were laughing triumphantly. Then one of the Charles’ slid down to his knees in front of the other and darted a glance over his shoulder at Erik and Erik managed only an inarticulate, “Gah,” and then Charles took the other Charles in his mouth and Erik positively whimpered with need, watching Charles’ expression and the head tilting helplessly back, and Charles murmured, “Oh God,” helplessly once, far too close to the edge, his hips bucking, clamping the other Charles’ head down on his cock with one neat-fingered hand, and Erik thought he had never seen anything more mind-numbingly sexy in his entire life and murmured, “Charles you’re perfect” and then Charles moaned and came, his eyes gazing wide and unfocused into Erik’s. Then the Charles’ severed and strode over towards Erik and each placed a hand on his knee and Erik said, “Charles,” with so much wonder and lust and abandon in his tone that one of them leaned closer and kissed him, and the other slid down on the bed and began unfastening his bathrobe and Erik said, “How do you do this, you just gave yourself a blow job and you’re not even breaking a sweat?”
“You have your tricks, I have mine,” Charles said against his neck. “I’m sure you’ll think of something to do with it in the bedroom besides tear me out of my clothes one of these days.”
“Which one of you is real?” Erik asked.
“If you could tell that it wouldn’t be a very good trick,” Charles murmured, kissing him. And then the other Charles began planting a deliberate line of kisses down Erik’s stomach, tongue teasing the muscled flesh, and Erik’s breath hitched in his throat.
“This is a dream,” he muttered.
“I would say, a wet dream,” Charles said, kissing him, and then Erik gave a little gasp as the other Charles took him in his mouth and he was lost in a symphony of touch, Charles’ tongue lapping along his length and those full lips wrapped around him and simultaneously devouring his, and he grinned and kissed Charles’ neck and hissed, “I think I know which one of you is real, you wouldn’t miss the chance to get your mouth on my cock,” and felt Charles’ laugh ripple through his whole body, and then he couldn’t last any longer and came, explosively, feeling a wave of almost smug contentment from Charles as his seed hit the back of his throat, and he shut his eyes and exhaled, feelingly elatedly confident that there could never be any such thing as too much Charles.
When he had opened his eyes there was only one Charles there, raising his head from between his legs with a besotted grin.
“You were right, of course,” Charles said, his eyes gleaming with mischief, “daddy-o,” and then Erik had closed the gap between their mouths and murmured, “Never call me that again.”
They settled on the bed together, his foot brushing along Erik’s ankle, just close enough that the girl leveled a dubious glance at them, as though she half-guessed that this was not the first time they had shared a bed and that generally they were not both fully dressed in suits when this occurred.
Charles could not wait to get back to the hotel.
--
“For that, daddy-o, you get a private dance,” Charles purred, opening the door from the bathroom.
Erik was lying on the bed wearing only a robe, hair still a little damp, and he looked more puzzled than titillated.
“What?” he said.
“You heard me,” Charles said, leaning against the bathroom door so it clicked shut and beginning to unbutton his sweater.
“What did you just call me?” Erik said, swallowing.
“Daddy-o,” Charles said. He undid the last button of the sweater and found himself smirking. Erik was smiling now, but Charles could still read the confusion in his eyes. Charles sauntered over to their record player and turned it on and placed the needle in its groove and sauntered back to the doorway to the bathroom and shrugged the sweater off his shoulders and let it fall into an untidy heap at his feet. He shimmied experimentally.
“You’re not actually giving me a private dance,” Erik choked, starting to laugh. “And please don’t call me that.”
“Am I not?” Charles said, glancing at him. “I think you could do with one.”
“Charles,” Erik said, half-despairing. “You can’t be serious.”
“Dreadfully serious,” Charles said, unfastening the top button of his shirt. He prowled over to the bed and straddled Erik’s legs.
“Charles,” Erik said. “I hate to break this to you, but you’re a professor of genetics, not a stripper.”
“I’m not,” Charles said. “A professor has to have a teaching - position.” He leaned down and pushed the bathrobe open and licked a line slowly up Erik’s chest. “I don’t have a teaching position.” He sat back up and rocked back on his hips a little and worried his lower lip with his teeth in what he seemed to think was a sensual manner.
Erik was laughing again. “Subtle but meaningful distinction,” he said.
“Don’t mock me,” Charles said, climbing off him.
“You’re the one giving me a private dance,” Erik said.
“I’m never going to live this down,” Charles said, looking a little defeated. Then his eyes glinted. “Would you like to see another trick?"
“Is this going to be like the time you assured me you could tie a knot in a cherry stem with your teeth?” Erik said. It had been a rather boring half-hour of watching Charles squint and mutter, “Hang on, I really thought I had it that time.”
“You told me I had all the raw sensuality of Stanley Baldwin,” Charles said, looking a little ruffled.
“I’m sorry,” Erik said, reaching out and catching Charles’ hand and planting a hot kiss into the palm. Charles shivered involuntarily and his lips parted.
“God you’re sexy,” Erik said.
“I wasn’t even doing anything,” Charles said.
“That’s what’s so frustrating about it,” Erik said. “You aren’t even trying. You have no idea that you do this to me. Just looking. Just - the way your mouth quirks up when you smile. The noises you make when I touch you.”
Charles’ trousers were suddenly uncomfortably tight.
“Do you ever touch yourself?” Erik asked, his eyes flickering down to the bulge in Charles’ pants. “My adorable lab rat?” Charles’ eyes widened and darted towards him with a question. “Would you, for me?”
“Now?” Charles said, and without waiting for an answer he began unfastening the last of his shirt buttons and reaching for the belt - then Erik’s eyes flickered to his waist and the belt was gone, and Charles could see Erik’s eagerness, his arousal under the bathrobe.
“That’s the idea,” Erik said.
Then Charles shoved his pants down past his hips so they pooled at his ankles, and reached a hand into his undershorts, and Erik hissed, “No. Let me see you, this isn’t public school.”
“I didn’t do this at public school,” Charles managed, tugging off the underwear and stepping out of the puddle of clothes and standing there before him a little reticent and fully aroused, and Erik gave a little gasp as Charles wrapped one hand around himself and began stroking leisurely, and said, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Okay, daddy-o,” Charles purred, and the mischievous glint in his eyes made Erik grin in spite of himself. “Or I could - show you another trick.”
“No more tricks Charles,” Erik managed. “You’re doing so well."
Then Charles’ grin was suddenly absolutely vulpine and knowing and Erik felt an abject tug of lust at his stomach and his cock strained painfully against the bathrobe. “Shut your eyes a moment,” Charles said, and Erik said, “Charles what, just please, no cake this time,” thinking back to another recent disaster, but obeyed.
“Open them,” Charles said, a few moments later, and Erik’s jaw dropped open and he was suddenly harder than he’d ever been in his life.
In front of him were two Charles’, both gloriously naked, one of them sedately fingering his brow, the other one standing behind him, and Erik hissed, “Oh God, what is this?”
“Mind trick," Charles said, innocently. "You wanted to watch me touch myself." His hand wrapped around the white curve of the other Charles’ buttocks and pulled him in closer, and Erik muttered, “Charles you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” and Charles turned and glanced at him and said, “No, I think I have a very good idea,” and grasped the other Charles by the face and kissed him.
The sound Erik made was almost too much.
Charles ran the flat of his hand caressingly along the other Charles’ chest, and Erik let out a helpless moan and managed, “It’s not even my birthday,” and then both Charles’ were laughing triumphantly. Then one of the Charles’ slid down to his knees in front of the other and darted a glance over his shoulder at Erik and Erik managed only an inarticulate, “Gah,” and then Charles took the other Charles in his mouth and Erik positively whimpered with need, watching Charles’ expression and the head tilting helplessly back, and Charles murmured, “Oh God,” helplessly once, far too close to the edge, his hips bucking, clamping the other Charles’ head down on his cock with one neat-fingered hand, and Erik thought he had never seen anything more mind-numbingly sexy in his entire life and murmured, “Charles you’re perfect” and then Charles moaned and came, his eyes gazing wide and unfocused into Erik’s. Then the Charles’ severed and strode over towards Erik and each placed a hand on his knee and Erik said, “Charles,” with so much wonder and lust and abandon in his tone that one of them leaned closer and kissed him, and the other slid down on the bed and began unfastening his bathrobe and Erik said, “How do you do this, you just gave yourself a blow job and you’re not even breaking a sweat?”
“You have your tricks, I have mine,” Charles said against his neck. “I’m sure you’ll think of something to do with it in the bedroom besides tear me out of my clothes one of these days.”
“Which one of you is real?” Erik asked.
“If you could tell that it wouldn’t be a very good trick,” Charles murmured, kissing him. And then the other Charles began planting a deliberate line of kisses down Erik’s stomach, tongue teasing the muscled flesh, and Erik’s breath hitched in his throat.
“This is a dream,” he muttered.
“I would say, a wet dream,” Charles said, kissing him, and then Erik gave a little gasp as the other Charles took him in his mouth and he was lost in a symphony of touch, Charles’ tongue lapping along his length and those full lips wrapped around him and simultaneously devouring his, and he grinned and kissed Charles’ neck and hissed, “I think I know which one of you is real, you wouldn’t miss the chance to get your mouth on my cock,” and felt Charles’ laugh ripple through his whole body, and then he couldn’t last any longer and came, explosively, feeling a wave of almost smug contentment from Charles as his seed hit the back of his throat, and he shut his eyes and exhaled, feelingly elatedly confident that there could never be any such thing as too much Charles.
When he had opened his eyes there was only one Charles there, raising his head from between his legs with a besotted grin.
“You were right, of course,” Charles said, his eyes gleaming with mischief, “daddy-o,” and then Erik had closed the gap between their mouths and murmured, “Never call me that again.”