The One About The Turtleneck (3/5)
Title: The One About The Turtleneck, Part Three (Parts One and Two)
Pairing: R now, I would say
Disclaimer: I own no one and nothing.
Summary: This morning, Charles borrowed one of Erik's turtlenecks. Now things have very definitely gotten out of hand. Parts One and Two are here.
Before putting on another shirt Charles had had to take a rather long shower. In his mind he replayed the morning’s events - the foolish impulse that had possessed him to steal Erik’s turtleneck, the look in Erik’s eyes as they had played chess, Erik’s expression of helpless lust as he had pulled off the turtleneck and sauntered upstairs.
Thinking of that had required a very long shower indeed.
That afternoon was uneventful. Hank reported that absolutely nothing was the matter with the turtleneck, then vanished back into the bowels of his laboratory. Charles next helped Sean shatter only specific types of glass while Raven and Alex (or Alex and Alex, to anyone watching) tried boxing.
As he sat there saying, “Wonderful! You’re hitting a slightly different resonant frequency than the glass in the window, just splendid!” he could smell Erik cooking dinner. He had no idea what it was. Erik always cooked things Charles couldn’t pronounce. He was a surprisingly good cook, and Charles could not tell whether it was simply because he thought everything Erik put his hands on was wonderful, or because he had a demonstrated weakness for strudel, but he could not deny that a gift for metal was a positive boon in the kitchen. Erik could stir six things at once and make complicated sauces and remember suddenly in another part of the house that he had left the oven on and turn it off.
Charles burned toast. He thought in a way it was more professorial that he did.
“We’ll take turns cooking,” Charles had volunteered confidently, when they stood in the kitchen on the first tour of the house. “They say if you can read, you can cook.”
“Can anyone here read?” Erik had asked. He’d begun opening cupboards and examining the pans and Charles could tell instantly that he knew his way around a kitchen.
“Charles, this here is a terrine tin, and this pot is intended exclusively for the preparation of paealla,” Erik said, smirking. “I doubt anyone else here can pronounce those, let alone cook them.”
“Pie?” Sean asked. “Yaya.”
“On second thought maybe you’d better take charge of it,” Charles said.
Dinner came at last and reunited them around the table. It was veal schnitzel. He found Erik’s eyes on him instantly the moment he strolled in with Raven, and could not help a slightly complacent smirk.
He sat down and helped himself to some of the steaming noodles that accompanied the veal.
“This is delicious, Erik, thank you,” he said.
“What is this?” Alex asked.
“It’s schnitzel,” Erik said. “With noodles.” He helped himself to several heaping spoonfuls.
“My compliments to the chef,” Hank said. They chewed in silence for a while.
How long have you wanted to fuck me? Charles thought.
Erik dropped his spoon.
“You okay, Erik?” Sean asked.
“Exceptional,” Erik said flatly. Charles watched him snap the spoon back into his hand, and he could feel the surge of power that still only came when Erik was actually almost irate.
Then he saw the dangerous glint of an idea in the corner of Erik’s eyes, and he was slipping his finger casually towards his temple to see what it was when Sean poked him on the elbow and said, “Can you pass me the salt?”
So he had to pass Sean the salt, and as he did he could swear that he heard something metallic slide towards him under the table, and Erik grinned smugly and inscrutably and ate a forkful of noodles and then he felt something climb up his leg. Erik’s spoon.
Oh dear God no. Not at dinner.
And suddenly the predatory glint in Erik’s eyes made sense. He swallowed. There wasn’t any dignified way to extricate it. He couldn’t very well bat frantically at the crotch of his trousers in front of the children. He wondered if there were any training maneuvers that required you to do that. He was trying to push his mind towards Hank’s mind to find out when he noticed that Hank was already staring curiously at him, as though expecting him to say something.
“Charles?” Raven jostled his elbow, and he felt rather than saw Erik’s grin as the spoon slid excruciatingly up the inside of his thigh and began curling slowly around his-Oh God. “Charles?”
“What?” Charles said, trying to look alert and relaxed. Sean’s slightly confused expression suggested that he was not succeeding. Then again Sean always looked a little dazed. Like someone had just dropped something on his head and he wasn’t sure what.
The spoon tightened around him. He bit his lip and shot a beseeching glance towards Erik. Based on what the spoon began doing next he did not think it had been the most effective possible tactic.
“What’s the game plan for tonight, Charles?” Raven asked.
Charles inhaled sharply.
Why didn’t they ever ask Erik these questions? Why did he have to be in charge of everything all the time? What had Erik just done with the spoon? -- Dear God he'd better do that again.
“I thought that we might- play charades,” he said, trying to sound as though he were not making it up on the spot, trying to keep his breathing in check. “Not using our powers.”
“That is a terrible idea,” Raven said.
“And-” Fuck. “And then-“ Stop stammering, Charles. Don’t do that again, he thought angrily towards Erik. Look what you’re doing to me. This is not fair. At dinner. Stop that.
No, don’t stop.
“And then afterwards,” Charles managed, with a greater effort at self-control than he’d ever had to exert. What on earth did you just-do that again. Do that again. No. Stop. You can't. I can't. Do that again. Do only that. No, stop. Stop. Oh fuck I’m close, stop, please, Erik. Not here. “Not here, Erik!”
“What?” Raven said.
“Not here, but elsewhere, if you wouldn’t interrupt me in the middle of my clauses,” Charles said, summoning all his reserves of Oxford smugness, “Erik will- deliver a lecture on self-esteem.”
“What?” Erik’s eyes flashed towards him in bewilderment. The spoon plummeted back down his pants leg and clattered on the kitchen floor. The noise seemed deafening to Charles. Everyone else seemed not to notice. They were staring at Erik.
“Self esteem?” Alex said. “Are you kidding me?”
“Have you ever known me to kid?” Charles asked. “Erik seems to have quite the capacity for pithy, yet inspirational remarks on the subject. I thought that today he could have a captive audience.”
“I already have all the self-esteem I need,” Sean muttered, settling back in his chair. “I’m my own biggest fan.”
“It’ll be better than charades,” Raven said.
“I like charades,” Hank said. “I haven’t played since I was a kid.”
“I haven’t got anything to say on the subject,” Erik breathed.
“Then it will be a short lecture,” Charles replied drily. He began chewing unhappily on his lower lip.
The pressure in his trousers was almost as bad as before, and there was no way of alleviating it. And it presented the further problem that he couldn’t possibly get up from the table before the children did; there was no way they’d miss that. It would break their innocent hearts. He pictured their faces. For some reason he had a vision of Erik looking appraisingly at him and murmuring, “You look as though you have a cheese danish stuffed in your pants, Charles.” He inhaled slowly.
Erik noticed.
“I suppose I could drag it out a bit longer,” he said. Charles felt the spoon begin its ascent up his leg again.
“Charades, and a lecture on self esteem,” Alex said. “It’s nights like this I miss prison.”
“Now, Alex, I’m sure charades are less fun when you can only play with yourself,” Erik said, teasing the spoon slowly and carefully up Charles’ thigh.
Charles swallowed. Fuck.
“Besides, I’m sure I can come up with something, or Charles wouldn’t be begging me to do it,” Erik added.
Fuck. There. That. Yes. Erik. Charles gave a little shudder and his fingers clenched on the table leg. “Exactly,” he panted.
Part Four
Pairing: R now, I would say
Disclaimer: I own no one and nothing.
Summary: This morning, Charles borrowed one of Erik's turtlenecks. Now things have very definitely gotten out of hand. Parts One and Two are here.
Before putting on another shirt Charles had had to take a rather long shower. In his mind he replayed the morning’s events - the foolish impulse that had possessed him to steal Erik’s turtleneck, the look in Erik’s eyes as they had played chess, Erik’s expression of helpless lust as he had pulled off the turtleneck and sauntered upstairs.
Thinking of that had required a very long shower indeed.
That afternoon was uneventful. Hank reported that absolutely nothing was the matter with the turtleneck, then vanished back into the bowels of his laboratory. Charles next helped Sean shatter only specific types of glass while Raven and Alex (or Alex and Alex, to anyone watching) tried boxing.
As he sat there saying, “Wonderful! You’re hitting a slightly different resonant frequency than the glass in the window, just splendid!” he could smell Erik cooking dinner. He had no idea what it was. Erik always cooked things Charles couldn’t pronounce. He was a surprisingly good cook, and Charles could not tell whether it was simply because he thought everything Erik put his hands on was wonderful, or because he had a demonstrated weakness for strudel, but he could not deny that a gift for metal was a positive boon in the kitchen. Erik could stir six things at once and make complicated sauces and remember suddenly in another part of the house that he had left the oven on and turn it off.
Charles burned toast. He thought in a way it was more professorial that he did.
“We’ll take turns cooking,” Charles had volunteered confidently, when they stood in the kitchen on the first tour of the house. “They say if you can read, you can cook.”
“Can anyone here read?” Erik had asked. He’d begun opening cupboards and examining the pans and Charles could tell instantly that he knew his way around a kitchen.
“Charles, this here is a terrine tin, and this pot is intended exclusively for the preparation of paealla,” Erik said, smirking. “I doubt anyone else here can pronounce those, let alone cook them.”
“Pie?” Sean asked. “Yaya.”
“On second thought maybe you’d better take charge of it,” Charles said.
Dinner came at last and reunited them around the table. It was veal schnitzel. He found Erik’s eyes on him instantly the moment he strolled in with Raven, and could not help a slightly complacent smirk.
He sat down and helped himself to some of the steaming noodles that accompanied the veal.
“This is delicious, Erik, thank you,” he said.
“What is this?” Alex asked.
“It’s schnitzel,” Erik said. “With noodles.” He helped himself to several heaping spoonfuls.
“My compliments to the chef,” Hank said. They chewed in silence for a while.
How long have you wanted to fuck me? Charles thought.
Erik dropped his spoon.
“You okay, Erik?” Sean asked.
“Exceptional,” Erik said flatly. Charles watched him snap the spoon back into his hand, and he could feel the surge of power that still only came when Erik was actually almost irate.
Then he saw the dangerous glint of an idea in the corner of Erik’s eyes, and he was slipping his finger casually towards his temple to see what it was when Sean poked him on the elbow and said, “Can you pass me the salt?”
So he had to pass Sean the salt, and as he did he could swear that he heard something metallic slide towards him under the table, and Erik grinned smugly and inscrutably and ate a forkful of noodles and then he felt something climb up his leg. Erik’s spoon.
Oh dear God no. Not at dinner.
And suddenly the predatory glint in Erik’s eyes made sense. He swallowed. There wasn’t any dignified way to extricate it. He couldn’t very well bat frantically at the crotch of his trousers in front of the children. He wondered if there were any training maneuvers that required you to do that. He was trying to push his mind towards Hank’s mind to find out when he noticed that Hank was already staring curiously at him, as though expecting him to say something.
“Charles?” Raven jostled his elbow, and he felt rather than saw Erik’s grin as the spoon slid excruciatingly up the inside of his thigh and began curling slowly around his-Oh God. “Charles?”
“What?” Charles said, trying to look alert and relaxed. Sean’s slightly confused expression suggested that he was not succeeding. Then again Sean always looked a little dazed. Like someone had just dropped something on his head and he wasn’t sure what.
The spoon tightened around him. He bit his lip and shot a beseeching glance towards Erik. Based on what the spoon began doing next he did not think it had been the most effective possible tactic.
“What’s the game plan for tonight, Charles?” Raven asked.
Charles inhaled sharply.
Why didn’t they ever ask Erik these questions? Why did he have to be in charge of everything all the time? What had Erik just done with the spoon? -- Dear God he'd better do that again.
“I thought that we might- play charades,” he said, trying to sound as though he were not making it up on the spot, trying to keep his breathing in check. “Not using our powers.”
“That is a terrible idea,” Raven said.
“And-” Fuck. “And then-“ Stop stammering, Charles. Don’t do that again, he thought angrily towards Erik. Look what you’re doing to me. This is not fair. At dinner. Stop that.
No, don’t stop.
“And then afterwards,” Charles managed, with a greater effort at self-control than he’d ever had to exert. What on earth did you just-do that again. Do that again. No. Stop. You can't. I can't. Do that again. Do only that. No, stop. Stop. Oh fuck I’m close, stop, please, Erik. Not here. “Not here, Erik!”
“What?” Raven said.
“Not here, but elsewhere, if you wouldn’t interrupt me in the middle of my clauses,” Charles said, summoning all his reserves of Oxford smugness, “Erik will- deliver a lecture on self-esteem.”
“What?” Erik’s eyes flashed towards him in bewilderment. The spoon plummeted back down his pants leg and clattered on the kitchen floor. The noise seemed deafening to Charles. Everyone else seemed not to notice. They were staring at Erik.
“Self esteem?” Alex said. “Are you kidding me?”
“Have you ever known me to kid?” Charles asked. “Erik seems to have quite the capacity for pithy, yet inspirational remarks on the subject. I thought that today he could have a captive audience.”
“I already have all the self-esteem I need,” Sean muttered, settling back in his chair. “I’m my own biggest fan.”
“It’ll be better than charades,” Raven said.
“I like charades,” Hank said. “I haven’t played since I was a kid.”
“I haven’t got anything to say on the subject,” Erik breathed.
“Then it will be a short lecture,” Charles replied drily. He began chewing unhappily on his lower lip.
The pressure in his trousers was almost as bad as before, and there was no way of alleviating it. And it presented the further problem that he couldn’t possibly get up from the table before the children did; there was no way they’d miss that. It would break their innocent hearts. He pictured their faces. For some reason he had a vision of Erik looking appraisingly at him and murmuring, “You look as though you have a cheese danish stuffed in your pants, Charles.” He inhaled slowly.
Erik noticed.
“I suppose I could drag it out a bit longer,” he said. Charles felt the spoon begin its ascent up his leg again.
“Charades, and a lecture on self esteem,” Alex said. “It’s nights like this I miss prison.”
“Now, Alex, I’m sure charades are less fun when you can only play with yourself,” Erik said, teasing the spoon slowly and carefully up Charles’ thigh.
Charles swallowed. Fuck.
“Besides, I’m sure I can come up with something, or Charles wouldn’t be begging me to do it,” Erik added.
Fuck. There. That. Yes. Erik. Charles gave a little shudder and his fingers clenched on the table leg. “Exactly,” he panted.
Part Four