Good Boys (10/15)
Title: Good Boys, Chapter 10
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Rating: NC-17
Genre: first time! road trip!
Summary: Charles has always been a good boy. Erik has been doing his level best to change that. But will they be able to stop?
A/N: Hi, still no internet at my place! I knowwww I suck, on the day I man up (ovary up?) and get some, I'm going to write you all heartfelt notes or something equally fructiferous, and that is definitely the wrong word but whatever, we'll cope. 10 minutes before this starbucks closes! It's getting ridiculous! I love reading your comments! Please, please totally friend the bejezus out of me! I don't want you missing any updates either and all I really do these days is post fic whenever I get to teh internets! The chapter after this will get a little more plot intense, I think. Wow that was vague. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Charles didn’t realize what sort of a bar it was where the next mutant worked until they were both inside and he heard Erik emit an unmistakable chuckle.
“Well, this is handy, Charles,” he said.
And then Erik’s hand settled proprietarily in the small of his back and stayed there.
“Erik,” Charles said, feeling his stomach begin to flutter, “we’re on government business, and we may have to bring him with us, and he may not be blind.”
“But then again he may be,” Erik said.
“Erik,” Charles said, and Erik shrugged and gave him the reassuring look a cat generally turns on a canary and removed the hand. They settled together at the bar and Erik said, “Two brandies.”
“But not together,” Charles put in, glancing nervously around the bar.
Erik grinned. “Of course not.”
Then someone else came up to the bar and Charles could feel him standing a little closer than he thought was strictly necessary, and darting over into his mind for a moment he noticed that he was being - scoped out, he supposed, was the most accurate way of putting it.
“What are you drinking?” the man said, leaning over, and Charles had to glance over at him. A little too Aryan maybe, but not an unattractive specimen. “Well, brandy,” Charles said, “but I’m here on business-“ and then, catching himself, “Besides I’m not--”
“Charles isn’t,” Erik said. “But he’s with me” and Charles felt the absolutely murderous glance that Erik leveled on the stranger and then Erik’s hand slid around his waist and he heard “So go back to the fucking Hitler Youth where you came from and leave him the fuck alone,” and said, “Erik,” warningly and Erik said, “I didn’t say anything.”
The bartender approached with their brandies and then turned to the new arrival. “What are you drinking?”
The man was staring at his pocket in shock. “Maybe I’d better not drink tonight,” he said. “I have this strange feeling that my keys just melted.”
Then Charles had to stifle a laugh, and he turned a reproachful glance on Erik and Erik shrugged and turned to him with that delightful dangerous grin and said, “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Charles said. They drank. Then Charles set his glass down and his fingers found Erik’s under the bar. He couldn’t help grinning.
--
When they got back to the hotel room Erik said, “Come here,” in a voice that made something strange start fluttering around inside his chest, and kissed him with less force than warmth and then stood back from him a moment and muttered, “Wanted to do that all night, Charles.”
“You’re nicer when you’re jealous,” Charles murmured, and Erik said, “No, I’m not,” and kissed him again, bruisingly, and Charles gave a little whimper and Erik said, “Besides you don’t like nice boys,” and tugged Charles’ shirt and sweater-vest off and they hit the floor and joined another pile of Charles’ discarded clothes, because this had not stopped happening, and the realization that Erik Lehnsherr was now taking these liberties with him quite definitely as a matter of course made Charles feel a bit peculiar.
“Get on the bed,” Erik hissed, and Charles obliged, and felt his belt buckle open and the zipper of his pants begin dragging down, and he said, “Erik what?” and Erik said, “I’m not deflowering you, Charles, just returning a favor,” and Charles found himself grinning smugly and said, “Oh.”
Erik’s mouth was always delightful - Erik’s hot slick tongue tracing careful circles along his collarbone, Erik’s mouth plundering his own - but when it began a slow pilgrimage down his chest Charles thought he was about to die. He had not realized how much he wanted this. Erik kissed his navel and pushed his shorts down to pool at his ankles and kept kissing his way down the sparse trail of hairs, eyes glinting mischievously up at Charles. Charles almost didn’t breathe. His fingers knotted in the sheets and he whimpered, “Erik, please.”
“Keep talking, Charles,” Erik whispered, and Charles blurted out, “I won’t -- be able to - soon.”
Erik took him in his mouth and Charles’ fingers whitened in the sheets. “Oh God.” Erik’s eyes met his and Charles thought he had never seen anything sexier in his life; the sheer startling intimacy of the look, and the naughty glint in Erik’s eyes, and he let out a little moan. “Erik,” he hissed, and Erik began to suck, watching Charles for reactions. Erik noted every infinitesimal shudder of the hips and the way Charles would gasp and clutch his shoulders and hiss “You’re - oh God do that again” and the way Charles shut his eyes and let out a helpless moan, noted and experimented so that Charles felt as though he were an instrument and Erik was quickly learning all the stops. How did you manage to have a knowing smirk with someone’s dick in your mouth? Charles knew he never did; Erik had let him watch the last time. He felt as though he were losing control of his body, Erik’s mouth dragging a symphony of helpless thrusts and grunts and, “Erik - how did you - perfect - you’re - that yes that - I’ll make you jealous all the-fucking - time if this is what happens” and he heard, “You’d better not” and Erik’s mouth sped up, and he couldn’t help thrusting into the warm hot wetness and muttering, “Erik - you’re going to make me inco-“ and Erik’s laugh was what did it, and he came with his fingers clenching in Erik’s hair.
Erik swallowed and slid up along his body and Charles said, “Incoherent was the word.” And Erik said, “I’m going to kiss you now.”
The taste of himself on Erik’s lips was novel and made him feel unspeakably filthy. There was a strange new enthusiasm to the kiss; Erik’s hands slid around his waist and Erik finally disentangled their mouths and planted a line of kisses along Charles’ neck and said, “God, Charles, you,” and Charles said, “What?” and Erik said, “Kiss me again,” and Charles did and then Erik looked at him with that strange look that made Charles’ stomach jump and Charles heard the thought, ‘You’re going to ruin me’. Then he had climbed on top of Erik and locked his legs around Erik’s hips and was kissing him frenziedly, and his hand found Erik’s cock and began carefully sliding along the already familiar length, and he could tell Erik was close, and grinned at him and settled back on his hips and thought, “Look at what you’ve made me, Erik,” and Erik’s eyes widened and he could feel Erik’s breathing shift and hear the thought, “Perfection,” and Erik was thrusting into his hand and Erik muttered, “Charles” and came, hot and sticky against Charles’ fingers.
He felt Erik looking at him. When Erik looked at him he didn’t know what Charles Frances Xavier would do because no one had ever looked at Charles Xavier like that, like he belonged to him and like he might be the only thing of value in the whole collection. Charles felt suddenly emboldened and brought his fingers to his mouth and carefully licked the traces of Erik’s seed off them, making Erik shudder a little and murmur, “Charles you’re filthy.”
Charles grinned, “Perfectly.”
Erik’s eyes on him were almost too much. He ran his tongue questingly along his fingers again.
“Charles,” Erik hissed.
“I like the way you taste,” Charles said, with an almost innocent shrug. The way Erik was looking at him made his stomach tingle strangely and he muttered, “Don’t look so surprised, Erik, you did this,” and Erik sat up and pushed him back on the bed, hands clamping on his wrists, and whispered, “No, Charles, this is you.”
“I’m not like this,” Charles began faintly, but the words tasted dry and stale in his mouth and Erik bit his neck, making him arch up towards him, and Erik whispered, “This is better than deflowering you, Charles, look at yourself, this is what you’ve always been, what you were terrified that you were,” and Charles couldn’t help slipping behind Erik’s eyes for a moment and seeing himself, spread out beneath Erik, blue eyes shining with lust, and his whole body looked like an invitation, the way it was poised between Erik’s thighs. He ran his tongue thoughtfully over his lips and Erik said, “Do you see now?”
Charles shook his head.
Then Erik was kissing him, mouth moving along his collarbone, and Charles’ whole body shuddered and Erik said, “Charles, you’re a slut, you’ve always been, you just happen to be smart enough to hide it," and Charles shivered a little into the touch. Erik hissed into his ear, "You never told anyone about the things you imagined someone would do to you, but I know, and I’m going to find them all out and do them to you no matter how unspeakable they are," and Charles couldn't help shifting against him, "you’re going to tell me everything, Charles,” and Charles choked, “Erik, I-”
Erik’s mouth latched onto one of his nipples and then Erik pulled back and whispered, “What did you think about, Charles?” and Charles muttered, “I can’t remember, Erik” because since having Erik there, taunting and looking at him, every time he’d touched himself it had been all Erik, all visions of being ruined on that perfect huge cock, dozens of ways, some he thought might not be anatomically possible but wanted to try in case he turned out to be wrong. He pulled Erik’s face down to his and kissed him, gasping a little as their mouths met.
“Charles what if those fifteen girls of yours could see you now,” Erik hissed. "Or last night or tomorrow night," and Erik's hand traced possessively over his chest and Charles couldn’t help blushing. His eyes locked on Erik’s and Erik muttered, “But you’ve always been like this, Charles. Willing. Filthy. Mine. You knew it the moment I touched you.”
“Erik please stop talking,” Charles muttered, struggling a little, and Erik's hands caught his and held them.
“You’re spoiled now, Charles, even if I tried to be gentle you wouldn’t want it,” and Charles hissed, “You’re right, I don’t” and kissed him, their mouths locking in that strange way that was angry and gentle both together, and then Charles had pushed Erik to a stand and slid down off the bed next to him, planting a kiss on the ridge of Erik’s hip. He licked a deliberate line down Erik’s chest and wrapped his lips around Erik’s cock with an almost greedy little moan of satisfaction, and the sudden kindling in Erik’s eyes told him that Erik had heard it. “Charles you are a filthy cock-hungry little whore,” he managed.
Charles sucked carefully down and traced his tongue obscenely along Erik’s length and then pulled his mouth free and murmured, “Well in that case you’re in luck, aren’t you,” and rubbed his face against it, and Erik actually gasped. Then he slid his mouth up all the way and Erik groaned, “Charles sometimes I - think I just happen to be attached to - your favorite thing.”
Charles chuckled, low in his throat.
He felt Erik’s hips twitch against him and he slid his mouth off Erik and looked up at him, and the look was new. “Come on me,” he muttered.
Almost immediately Erik’s expression was absolute devouring lust, but there was a moment when Charles could have heard a pin drop in Erik’s mind. For a second Erik’s eyes widened and Charles heard, “He did not just say he wanted me to - Gott im Himmel” and knew it was because he was offering like this, because he had silently said, “Fuck Charles Xavier” since Erik was here and Erik was willing and Erik was - magnificent and he couldn’t think of anything else in the world he wanted more right now than to be defiled and see that startled kindling of lust in Erik's eyes.
Erik’s fingers clutched in his hair and Erik’s eyes screwed shut and then Erik came, in three great bursts, hitting him in the face and on the neck and trailing obscenely down his chest, and Charles gasped a little and found that he was hard again, and Erik hissed, “Hold still,” and knelt on the bed and caught Charles by the waist and licked it off his neck. Charles’ whole body shuddered against him. "You're a mess, Charles," Erik said against his neck, and Charles reached up to wipe his face but Erik shook his head and caught his hand, “Let me, Charles,” and Charles nodded, biting his lip because it was almost too much, and he could hear Erik thinking, My God, you are a dirty irredeemable little slut, and you have no idea how perfect.
He watched the top of Erik’s head move over his chest, and reached down and tangled his fingers in Erik’s hair and Erik blurted out, “Charles,” and then Erik’s tongue made him forget whatever else it was he had been planning to think.
He felt strange and filthy and - beautiful, he kept finding the word beautiful when Erik’s mouth moved over him - perfect - and he brought their mouths together again -- God, he’s perfect, this is insane -- and a few minutes later Erik had taken him in his mouth again and his fingers were locking in Erik’s hair and it was even better, and he noticed that Erik was a little disarrayed, and those eyes were devouring him, and seeing Erik’s head between his legs was strange and wrong and wonderful, and the thought, “He’s doing this to me, and he likes doing it,” and he was thrusting harder into Erik’s mouth and then their eyes met and held and he gasped, “God, Erik - look at us -” and came.
He tugged Erik up on top of him and their mouths crashed hungrily together. By the time Erik was done kissing him he had forgotten which one of them it tasted like.
He fell asleep like that, limbs locked comfortably around Erik’s. In the middle of the night he woke and clambered into his own bed. He almost didn't know why he'd bothered.
Chapter 11
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Rating: NC-17
Genre: first time! road trip!
Summary: Charles has always been a good boy. Erik has been doing his level best to change that. But will they be able to stop?
A/N: Hi, still no internet at my place! I knowwww I suck, on the day I man up (ovary up?) and get some, I'm going to write you all heartfelt notes or something equally fructiferous, and that is definitely the wrong word but whatever, we'll cope. 10 minutes before this starbucks closes! It's getting ridiculous! I love reading your comments! Please, please totally friend the bejezus out of me! I don't want you missing any updates either and all I really do these days is post fic whenever I get to teh internets! The chapter after this will get a little more plot intense, I think. Wow that was vague. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Charles didn’t realize what sort of a bar it was where the next mutant worked until they were both inside and he heard Erik emit an unmistakable chuckle.
“Well, this is handy, Charles,” he said.
And then Erik’s hand settled proprietarily in the small of his back and stayed there.
“Erik,” Charles said, feeling his stomach begin to flutter, “we’re on government business, and we may have to bring him with us, and he may not be blind.”
“But then again he may be,” Erik said.
“Erik,” Charles said, and Erik shrugged and gave him the reassuring look a cat generally turns on a canary and removed the hand. They settled together at the bar and Erik said, “Two brandies.”
“But not together,” Charles put in, glancing nervously around the bar.
Erik grinned. “Of course not.”
Then someone else came up to the bar and Charles could feel him standing a little closer than he thought was strictly necessary, and darting over into his mind for a moment he noticed that he was being - scoped out, he supposed, was the most accurate way of putting it.
“What are you drinking?” the man said, leaning over, and Charles had to glance over at him. A little too Aryan maybe, but not an unattractive specimen. “Well, brandy,” Charles said, “but I’m here on business-“ and then, catching himself, “Besides I’m not--”
“Charles isn’t,” Erik said. “But he’s with me” and Charles felt the absolutely murderous glance that Erik leveled on the stranger and then Erik’s hand slid around his waist and he heard “So go back to the fucking Hitler Youth where you came from and leave him the fuck alone,” and said, “Erik,” warningly and Erik said, “I didn’t say anything.”
The bartender approached with their brandies and then turned to the new arrival. “What are you drinking?”
The man was staring at his pocket in shock. “Maybe I’d better not drink tonight,” he said. “I have this strange feeling that my keys just melted.”
Then Charles had to stifle a laugh, and he turned a reproachful glance on Erik and Erik shrugged and turned to him with that delightful dangerous grin and said, “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Charles said. They drank. Then Charles set his glass down and his fingers found Erik’s under the bar. He couldn’t help grinning.
--
When they got back to the hotel room Erik said, “Come here,” in a voice that made something strange start fluttering around inside his chest, and kissed him with less force than warmth and then stood back from him a moment and muttered, “Wanted to do that all night, Charles.”
“You’re nicer when you’re jealous,” Charles murmured, and Erik said, “No, I’m not,” and kissed him again, bruisingly, and Charles gave a little whimper and Erik said, “Besides you don’t like nice boys,” and tugged Charles’ shirt and sweater-vest off and they hit the floor and joined another pile of Charles’ discarded clothes, because this had not stopped happening, and the realization that Erik Lehnsherr was now taking these liberties with him quite definitely as a matter of course made Charles feel a bit peculiar.
“Get on the bed,” Erik hissed, and Charles obliged, and felt his belt buckle open and the zipper of his pants begin dragging down, and he said, “Erik what?” and Erik said, “I’m not deflowering you, Charles, just returning a favor,” and Charles found himself grinning smugly and said, “Oh.”
Erik’s mouth was always delightful - Erik’s hot slick tongue tracing careful circles along his collarbone, Erik’s mouth plundering his own - but when it began a slow pilgrimage down his chest Charles thought he was about to die. He had not realized how much he wanted this. Erik kissed his navel and pushed his shorts down to pool at his ankles and kept kissing his way down the sparse trail of hairs, eyes glinting mischievously up at Charles. Charles almost didn’t breathe. His fingers knotted in the sheets and he whimpered, “Erik, please.”
“Keep talking, Charles,” Erik whispered, and Charles blurted out, “I won’t -- be able to - soon.”
Erik took him in his mouth and Charles’ fingers whitened in the sheets. “Oh God.” Erik’s eyes met his and Charles thought he had never seen anything sexier in his life; the sheer startling intimacy of the look, and the naughty glint in Erik’s eyes, and he let out a little moan. “Erik,” he hissed, and Erik began to suck, watching Charles for reactions. Erik noted every infinitesimal shudder of the hips and the way Charles would gasp and clutch his shoulders and hiss “You’re - oh God do that again” and the way Charles shut his eyes and let out a helpless moan, noted and experimented so that Charles felt as though he were an instrument and Erik was quickly learning all the stops. How did you manage to have a knowing smirk with someone’s dick in your mouth? Charles knew he never did; Erik had let him watch the last time. He felt as though he were losing control of his body, Erik’s mouth dragging a symphony of helpless thrusts and grunts and, “Erik - how did you - perfect - you’re - that yes that - I’ll make you jealous all the-fucking - time if this is what happens” and he heard, “You’d better not” and Erik’s mouth sped up, and he couldn’t help thrusting into the warm hot wetness and muttering, “Erik - you’re going to make me inco-“ and Erik’s laugh was what did it, and he came with his fingers clenching in Erik’s hair.
Erik swallowed and slid up along his body and Charles said, “Incoherent was the word.” And Erik said, “I’m going to kiss you now.”
The taste of himself on Erik’s lips was novel and made him feel unspeakably filthy. There was a strange new enthusiasm to the kiss; Erik’s hands slid around his waist and Erik finally disentangled their mouths and planted a line of kisses along Charles’ neck and said, “God, Charles, you,” and Charles said, “What?” and Erik said, “Kiss me again,” and Charles did and then Erik looked at him with that strange look that made Charles’ stomach jump and Charles heard the thought, ‘You’re going to ruin me’. Then he had climbed on top of Erik and locked his legs around Erik’s hips and was kissing him frenziedly, and his hand found Erik’s cock and began carefully sliding along the already familiar length, and he could tell Erik was close, and grinned at him and settled back on his hips and thought, “Look at what you’ve made me, Erik,” and Erik’s eyes widened and he could feel Erik’s breathing shift and hear the thought, “Perfection,” and Erik was thrusting into his hand and Erik muttered, “Charles” and came, hot and sticky against Charles’ fingers.
He felt Erik looking at him. When Erik looked at him he didn’t know what Charles Frances Xavier would do because no one had ever looked at Charles Xavier like that, like he belonged to him and like he might be the only thing of value in the whole collection. Charles felt suddenly emboldened and brought his fingers to his mouth and carefully licked the traces of Erik’s seed off them, making Erik shudder a little and murmur, “Charles you’re filthy.”
Charles grinned, “Perfectly.”
Erik’s eyes on him were almost too much. He ran his tongue questingly along his fingers again.
“Charles,” Erik hissed.
“I like the way you taste,” Charles said, with an almost innocent shrug. The way Erik was looking at him made his stomach tingle strangely and he muttered, “Don’t look so surprised, Erik, you did this,” and Erik sat up and pushed him back on the bed, hands clamping on his wrists, and whispered, “No, Charles, this is you.”
“I’m not like this,” Charles began faintly, but the words tasted dry and stale in his mouth and Erik bit his neck, making him arch up towards him, and Erik whispered, “This is better than deflowering you, Charles, look at yourself, this is what you’ve always been, what you were terrified that you were,” and Charles couldn’t help slipping behind Erik’s eyes for a moment and seeing himself, spread out beneath Erik, blue eyes shining with lust, and his whole body looked like an invitation, the way it was poised between Erik’s thighs. He ran his tongue thoughtfully over his lips and Erik said, “Do you see now?”
Charles shook his head.
Then Erik was kissing him, mouth moving along his collarbone, and Charles’ whole body shuddered and Erik said, “Charles, you’re a slut, you’ve always been, you just happen to be smart enough to hide it," and Charles shivered a little into the touch. Erik hissed into his ear, "You never told anyone about the things you imagined someone would do to you, but I know, and I’m going to find them all out and do them to you no matter how unspeakable they are," and Charles couldn't help shifting against him, "you’re going to tell me everything, Charles,” and Charles choked, “Erik, I-”
Erik’s mouth latched onto one of his nipples and then Erik pulled back and whispered, “What did you think about, Charles?” and Charles muttered, “I can’t remember, Erik” because since having Erik there, taunting and looking at him, every time he’d touched himself it had been all Erik, all visions of being ruined on that perfect huge cock, dozens of ways, some he thought might not be anatomically possible but wanted to try in case he turned out to be wrong. He pulled Erik’s face down to his and kissed him, gasping a little as their mouths met.
“Charles what if those fifteen girls of yours could see you now,” Erik hissed. "Or last night or tomorrow night," and Erik's hand traced possessively over his chest and Charles couldn’t help blushing. His eyes locked on Erik’s and Erik muttered, “But you’ve always been like this, Charles. Willing. Filthy. Mine. You knew it the moment I touched you.”
“Erik please stop talking,” Charles muttered, struggling a little, and Erik's hands caught his and held them.
“You’re spoiled now, Charles, even if I tried to be gentle you wouldn’t want it,” and Charles hissed, “You’re right, I don’t” and kissed him, their mouths locking in that strange way that was angry and gentle both together, and then Charles had pushed Erik to a stand and slid down off the bed next to him, planting a kiss on the ridge of Erik’s hip. He licked a deliberate line down Erik’s chest and wrapped his lips around Erik’s cock with an almost greedy little moan of satisfaction, and the sudden kindling in Erik’s eyes told him that Erik had heard it. “Charles you are a filthy cock-hungry little whore,” he managed.
Charles sucked carefully down and traced his tongue obscenely along Erik’s length and then pulled his mouth free and murmured, “Well in that case you’re in luck, aren’t you,” and rubbed his face against it, and Erik actually gasped. Then he slid his mouth up all the way and Erik groaned, “Charles sometimes I - think I just happen to be attached to - your favorite thing.”
Charles chuckled, low in his throat.
He felt Erik’s hips twitch against him and he slid his mouth off Erik and looked up at him, and the look was new. “Come on me,” he muttered.
Almost immediately Erik’s expression was absolute devouring lust, but there was a moment when Charles could have heard a pin drop in Erik’s mind. For a second Erik’s eyes widened and Charles heard, “He did not just say he wanted me to - Gott im Himmel” and knew it was because he was offering like this, because he had silently said, “Fuck Charles Xavier” since Erik was here and Erik was willing and Erik was - magnificent and he couldn’t think of anything else in the world he wanted more right now than to be defiled and see that startled kindling of lust in Erik's eyes.
Erik’s fingers clutched in his hair and Erik’s eyes screwed shut and then Erik came, in three great bursts, hitting him in the face and on the neck and trailing obscenely down his chest, and Charles gasped a little and found that he was hard again, and Erik hissed, “Hold still,” and knelt on the bed and caught Charles by the waist and licked it off his neck. Charles’ whole body shuddered against him. "You're a mess, Charles," Erik said against his neck, and Charles reached up to wipe his face but Erik shook his head and caught his hand, “Let me, Charles,” and Charles nodded, biting his lip because it was almost too much, and he could hear Erik thinking, My God, you are a dirty irredeemable little slut, and you have no idea how perfect.
He watched the top of Erik’s head move over his chest, and reached down and tangled his fingers in Erik’s hair and Erik blurted out, “Charles,” and then Erik’s tongue made him forget whatever else it was he had been planning to think.
He felt strange and filthy and - beautiful, he kept finding the word beautiful when Erik’s mouth moved over him - perfect - and he brought their mouths together again -- God, he’s perfect, this is insane -- and a few minutes later Erik had taken him in his mouth again and his fingers were locking in Erik’s hair and it was even better, and he noticed that Erik was a little disarrayed, and those eyes were devouring him, and seeing Erik’s head between his legs was strange and wrong and wonderful, and the thought, “He’s doing this to me, and he likes doing it,” and he was thrusting harder into Erik’s mouth and then their eyes met and held and he gasped, “God, Erik - look at us -” and came.
He tugged Erik up on top of him and their mouths crashed hungrily together. By the time Erik was done kissing him he had forgotten which one of them it tasted like.
He fell asleep like that, limbs locked comfortably around Erik’s. In the middle of the night he woke and clambered into his own bed. He almost didn't know why he'd bothered.
Chapter 11