Silence. In the crackle of the fire in Charles’ rooms, in the carved wooden pieces of the game Charles seems to love so much. Erik watches him, watches his hair slide slowly from behind his ear, hanging limp in his face, the red lips bitten between his teeth.
Erik takes a sip of his wine and watches as Charles contemplates the board still, the popping of the wood comfortable and warm, his turtleneck almost too hot, but he can’t bring himself to move or do anything save watch his friend - friend? How odd - and blink slowly. He doesn’t want to miss anything.
At last Charles moves his rook and Erik sighs, letting the deeply held breath out, his lungs pained from holding it in. Charles looks at him askance, and are you alright? floats through his mind. Erik nods, imperceptive, closed off, and drinks more wine as he drops his eyes from Charles' intense gaze. The clock strikes eleven
( ... )
Charles in his bed, reading something large and ridiculous, his smoking jacket wrapped around his slender body, the light from the lamps small circles around his giant mattress. Erik wonders if he should just -
You can sit, if you wish, Erik.He crosses the floor, cocking his head as he watches Charles read. Stopping at the foot of the bed, Erik grips the metal footer and licks dry lips. He can still feel the muzzle of the gun against his forehead, and a chill rises through his spine, despite the warmth of the room. He’s had a few glasses of brandy, but never let it be said that Erik Lehnsherr can’t hold his drink. He can move metal and force men to do what he wishes; he is calm in the face of the storm. He is strong and stoic and what Shaw made of him. He is not afraid of a small highbrow Englishman in a bathrobe
( ... )
They are drunk and raucous after spending a failed day searching for a mutant that wouldn’t even give them the time of day - fuck off, he’d said - and Xavier had decided they needed drink and lots of it after that.
So Erik had drunk, and Charles had drunk - no places that served German beer; Erik had bristled and brooded when they tried the first two establishments - and now back at Westchester, they sit in the quiet lounge - one of many, Erik consistently reminds Charles, still overawed and slightly angry at the show of wealth.
What a hardship it must have been, Charles.
“Are you still thinking of that?”
Erik jerks his head around at Charles, his vision swimming slightly, a snarling leaving his lips without thinking of it. “I can’t imagine why I would be.” He reaches for the half full decanter of brandy, and winces when Charles’ overly loud voice echoes in places it’s never been before.
I know you’re hurt, Erik. But never by me, my friend. That I can swear to you.Erik sets the bottle down after pouring a few fingers of amber
( ... )
Re: FILL: Quiet 3/3sasha_bJune 8 2011, 00:47:54 UTC
I am so glad for the opportunity to write this. Great prompt (yes, I love the porn, but it's wonderful to write other things too) and keep giving them - I will keep filling. ;)
No porn, please, just quiet moments.
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Erik takes a sip of his wine and watches as Charles contemplates the board still, the popping of the wood comfortable and warm, his turtleneck almost too hot, but he can’t bring himself to move or do anything save watch his friend - friend? How odd - and blink slowly. He doesn’t want to miss anything.
At last Charles moves his rook and Erik sighs, letting the deeply held breath out, his lungs pained from holding it in. Charles looks at him askance, and are you alright? floats through his mind. Erik nods, imperceptive, closed off, and drinks more wine as he drops his eyes from Charles' intense gaze. The clock strikes eleven ( ... )
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You can sit, if you wish, Erik.He crosses the floor, cocking his head as he watches Charles read. Stopping at the foot of the bed, Erik grips the metal footer and licks dry lips. He can still feel the muzzle of the gun against his forehead, and a chill rises through his spine, despite the warmth of the room. He’s had a few glasses of brandy, but never let it be said that Erik Lehnsherr can’t hold his drink. He can move metal and force men to do what he wishes; he is calm in the face of the storm. He is strong and stoic and what Shaw made of him. He is not afraid of a small highbrow Englishman in a bathrobe ( ... )
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So Erik had drunk, and Charles had drunk - no places that served German beer; Erik had bristled and brooded when they tried the first two establishments - and now back at Westchester, they sit in the quiet lounge - one of many, Erik consistently reminds Charles, still overawed and slightly angry at the show of wealth.
What a hardship it must have been, Charles.
“Are you still thinking of that?”
Erik jerks his head around at Charles, his vision swimming slightly, a snarling leaving his lips without thinking of it. “I can’t imagine why I would be.” He reaches for the half full decanter of brandy, and winces when Charles’ overly loud voice echoes in places it’s never been before.
I know you’re hurt, Erik. But never by me, my friend. That I can swear to you.Erik sets the bottle down after pouring a few fingers of amber ( ... )
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Oh, Erik, you make feel ALL THE FEELINGS, it's ridiculous.
<3s to you for this. I love it dearly.
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Thank you so much.
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