New Trick
Title: New Trick
'Verse: Bad Things
Fandom: X-Men: First Class, Shame
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Charles/Erik, Charles/Logan, Alex/Erik; past Erik/Magda, Erik/Raven
Summary: Anticipationwantneedlust. It's not something he can control.
Warnings: Wet dreams, infidelity, copious amounts of the word 'fuck'.
Author's Notes: This chapter- I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. Also, if any parts don't run together smoothly, blame it on me writing when I feel like a microwaveable cup of instant death, chicken flavoured.
Previous Bits: one, two, three, four, five
Erik’s fingers dig into Charles’ hips, pulling him closer and leaving angry redpurple bruises. He groans when he feels Charles strain to stay up right and on his toes. One of Erik’s hands trails its way from Charles’ hip to one of his nipples to tweak it, then to his jaw line to move it just enough so he can ghost his lips over Charles’.
“So tight. Fuck. So good. Charles fuck.”
And rolls his hips at a rapid and erratic pace, pushing Charles into the window impossibly further. Charles’ moan wanton and loud, nearly screaming Oh Jesus, Erik- fuck, fuck. Erik more, fuck. Need- fuck don’t stop. so fast that half of it runs together, jumbled and incoherent.
Erik mouths his way down Charles’ jaw and neck to suck on his pulse point. Charles arches his back and groans. He reaches back to Erik’s hip and grips, digging blunt nails into giving flesh.
Erik moves up close to Charles’ ear and licks the shell of it, then whispers:
“Does he ever fuck you like I’m fucking you?"
He reaches his hand between the glass and Charles’ body, wrapping his long fingers around his cock.
“Does he? Make you scream?”
Charles just whimpers and jerks his hips forward into his hand then back onto his prick.
Erik strokes Charles and says:
“Answer me, Charles.” Punctuating with a hard thrust.
Charles’ head lulls back onto Erik’s shoulder and he gasps out, mouth open wide and eyes shut closed. Erik laughs and strokes him through his orgasm and continues to thrust into him.
He rolls his hips into Charles one last time and wakes up.
His eyes flutter shut and he bangs his head against the headboard when he realizes it was just a dream. Thinking fuck damnit shit fuck me why and running his hand down to the hem of his pyjama pants and groans when his hand wraps its’ way around his dick. He runs his thumb over the head and squeezes around the shaft. He thinks back to the dream, to the sick sweet slap of skin on skin that he could have sworn was real. He thinks back to the phone call and the hitch of breath and ragged voice. He thinks back to the feel explosion of of painendorhinsadrenalinecomeonatme when Logan’s fist dug into his gut. He thinks back to the gritty rutting in a subway bathroom and comes in stripes across his hand and the sheets.
“So, what’s got you in such a lovely mood today, Lehnsherr?” Emma says as she looks up from her magazine. “Tell me, did you find yourself a new trick? Or is it Alex? Did he finally take my advice?”
Erik looks from his computer to her with a dubious brow.
“Excuse me?”
She sets her magazine down and sits up straight. She smiles something sinister.
“What has gotten you in such a good mood?”
He glares at her.
“The doors over there.” He points. “You should go.”
She walks over to Erik and leans over his desk.
“You can’t have visited the copy room today. Alex isn’t quite so chipper. And you can’t have had it with the new intern. He hasn’t sent in a resignation letter yet.” Her face lit up. “Unless he’s just going to shuffle awkwar-”
Erik growls.
“The door, Frost. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.”
She laughs out something that sounds more like a cackle and says:
“I’m going to find out, Lehnsherr. One way or another.”
After Erik watches the door click shut, he lean over to his intercom.
“Alex, the copier is jammed. Could you go to third floor and check it out?”
Next Bit: seven
'Verse: Bad Things
Fandom: X-Men: First Class, Shame
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Charles/Erik, Charles/Logan, Alex/Erik; past Erik/Magda, Erik/Raven
Summary: Anticipationwantneedlust. It's not something he can control.
Warnings: Wet dreams, infidelity, copious amounts of the word 'fuck'.
Author's Notes: This chapter- I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. Also, if any parts don't run together smoothly, blame it on me writing when I feel like a microwaveable cup of instant death, chicken flavoured.
Previous Bits: one, two, three, four, five
Erik’s fingers dig into Charles’ hips, pulling him closer and leaving angry redpurple bruises. He groans when he feels Charles strain to stay up right and on his toes. One of Erik’s hands trails its way from Charles’ hip to one of his nipples to tweak it, then to his jaw line to move it just enough so he can ghost his lips over Charles’.
“So tight. Fuck. So good. Charles fuck.”
And rolls his hips at a rapid and erratic pace, pushing Charles into the window impossibly further. Charles’ moan wanton and loud, nearly screaming Oh Jesus, Erik- fuck, fuck. Erik more, fuck. Need- fuck don’t stop. so fast that half of it runs together, jumbled and incoherent.
Erik mouths his way down Charles’ jaw and neck to suck on his pulse point. Charles arches his back and groans. He reaches back to Erik’s hip and grips, digging blunt nails into giving flesh.
Erik moves up close to Charles’ ear and licks the shell of it, then whispers:
“Does he ever fuck you like I’m fucking you?"
He reaches his hand between the glass and Charles’ body, wrapping his long fingers around his cock.
“Does he? Make you scream?”
Charles just whimpers and jerks his hips forward into his hand then back onto his prick.
Erik strokes Charles and says:
“Answer me, Charles.” Punctuating with a hard thrust.
Charles’ head lulls back onto Erik’s shoulder and he gasps out, mouth open wide and eyes shut closed. Erik laughs and strokes him through his orgasm and continues to thrust into him.
He rolls his hips into Charles one last time and wakes up.
His eyes flutter shut and he bangs his head against the headboard when he realizes it was just a dream. Thinking fuck damnit shit fuck me why and running his hand down to the hem of his pyjama pants and groans when his hand wraps its’ way around his dick. He runs his thumb over the head and squeezes around the shaft. He thinks back to the dream, to the sick sweet slap of skin on skin that he could have sworn was real. He thinks back to the phone call and the hitch of breath and ragged voice. He thinks back to the feel explosion of of painendorhinsadrenalinecomeonatme when Logan’s fist dug into his gut. He thinks back to the gritty rutting in a subway bathroom and comes in stripes across his hand and the sheets.
“So, what’s got you in such a lovely mood today, Lehnsherr?” Emma says as she looks up from her magazine. “Tell me, did you find yourself a new trick? Or is it Alex? Did he finally take my advice?”
Erik looks from his computer to her with a dubious brow.
“Excuse me?”
She sets her magazine down and sits up straight. She smiles something sinister.
“What has gotten you in such a good mood?”
He glares at her.
“The doors over there.” He points. “You should go.”
She walks over to Erik and leans over his desk.
“You can’t have visited the copy room today. Alex isn’t quite so chipper. And you can’t have had it with the new intern. He hasn’t sent in a resignation letter yet.” Her face lit up. “Unless he’s just going to shuffle awkwar-”
Erik growls.
“The door, Frost. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.”
She laughs out something that sounds more like a cackle and says:
“I’m going to find out, Lehnsherr. One way or another.”
After Erik watches the door click shut, he lean over to his intercom.
“Alex, the copier is jammed. Could you go to third floor and check it out?”
Next Bit: seven