fic: Say It Again
Title: Say It Again
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Wordcount: 1070
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
Summary: Erik's leaning forward and staring at him as if Charles has just fallen from the sky. “That's the best thing I've ever heard,” he says. “Say it again.”
A/N: Written for X-Men Remix Madness, because I couldn't resist writing Charles's point of view on the events of
unforgotten's splendid fic Lines, which was a response to
professor's request for "the one where Erik spends all his time Nazi hunting and none of his time flirting, so he thinks Charles' pick-up lines are actually good."
Charles has no illusions about his chat-up lines; Raven's told him often enough how cheesy and awful they are. He's never seen any reason to change them, because nine times out of ten they work perfectly well, but he's not proud of them.
So when Erik asks him what he says to the girls to get them to go with him, Charles thinks at first that he can't be serious. Why would Erik, of all people, want to know that? Erik, who exudes sexual confidence, who's so bloody gorgeous he's obviously never needed pick-up lines to get what he wants. Erik, who has been altogether too much in Charles's thoughts ever since the first time he saw him in that damned wetsuit.
(Charles doesn't let himself think about the wetsuit unless it's really, really late at night and he's absolutely sure Erik is fast asleep. He has some rudimentary sense of self-preservation, and he knows that his thoughts about how Erik looked in that wetsuit can get ... loud.)
Erik's looking at him with an air of polite expectancy that makes Charles shiver, just a little.
“Ah,” Charles says, and swallows hard. “I don't know - well, I suppose I could tell you, if you'll promise not to make fun. Raven already laughs at my lines; I don't think I could take your doing it as well.”
Erik promises, and Charles takes a deep breath and launches into his routine.
He uses the “auburn hair” line, though it's not strictly accurate with Erik, but if he starts talking about the colour of Erik's eyes something dreadful is probably going to happen. It's as much as he can do not to stare at them as it is, or at Erik's mouth and his hands and his impossibly narrow waist... Concentrate, Xavier.
“Mutation took us from single-celled organisms to being the dominant form of reproductive life on this planet,” he concludes, trying not to squirm in his seat with embarrassment.
Erik's leaning forward and staring at him as if Charles has just fallen from the sky. “That's the best thing I've ever heard,” he says. “Say it again.”
“You promised not to make fun!” Charles protests, his stomach twisting with shame.
“I'm not,” Erik insists. “Say it again!”
Charles looks at him doubtfully, feeling he's just about to make an even bigger fool of himself than he already has, but then Erik says “Please”, and that does it, Charles is not going to fight this any more. He goes through the whole routine again, gives it his absolute best shot, complete with the intense gaze he's glad Raven never caught him practising in the mirror.
Erik stands up abruptly and leans over him, so close his lips are almost brushing against Charles's ear, and says “Bathroom.”
Charles is dizzy with lust and appalled by how much he wants to say yes to something so stupid dangerous crazy wrong. He's not sure if he can speak, but what comes out of his mouth sounds impossibly prim and nannyish: “In the bathroom? I think not.”
He feels a surge of hurt and shame and rejection from Erik at that, so strong that it breaks through all the shields he's been keeping in place since Erik told him to stay out of his head -
of course Charles doesn't want you why would you think he was interested in you like that stupid humiliating
“Oh, will you stop that!” Charles says, exasperated, because really... “All I meant is, we have a perfectly good hotel room. Honestly, Erik.”
He sounds remarkably calm and in control, given that his mind is doing the equivalent of turning cartwheels and letting off a firework display.
***
They get out of the bar as fast as they can, and the hotel's just round the corner, but Charles somehow manages to fit in several more repetitions at Erik's insistence before they get behind closed doors. He's amazed his voice is as steady as it is.
He's even more amazed at the effect that all of this is clearly - dear god, so clearly - having on Erik.
“Say it again,” Erik pleads, and Charles does, though he doesn't know how he can keep going when Erik's got him backed up against the bedroom door with his hand in Charles's pants. Erik's beautiful strong fingers are driving him crazy, not to mention Erik's lips pressing against the side of his neck or nuzzling his ear, his collarbone, moving down to pull and tease at his nipples, planting a line of kisses down to his navel and his cock.
Charles's voice is shaking by the time Erik takes him in his mouth and licks and sucks and teases and pushes him all the way to the edge and holds him there... He's had blowjobs before, but never one like this; he comes so hard he thinks he might actually have sprained something.
“I want to fuck you,” Erik says, and Charles moans, both at the words and the tightness of arousal in Erik's voice. “I want to fuck you and I want you to keep talking.”
“Oh god,” Charles says helplessly.
How he keeps going he'll never know, but somehow he does, as Erik's slick fingers work him open, sending pleasure sparking along his nerve endings; as Erik pushes into him, a long slow push that makes them both gasp, so good, yes... He goes on babbling about genetics and evolution as Erik fucks him, long and hard and deep, gorgeous slow friction and drag alternating with fierce thrusts that make him buck his hips and dig his nails into Erik's shoulders, till he can't bear it any longer, he has to come again, he has to...
***
Charles Xavier has a bone to pick with Pavlov, and possibly with Locke. Because by the time he's repeated his lines as many times as Erik's asked him to, through that long delicious torture of a blowjob and then through a truly surprising amount of the spectacular fucking that followed it, the association of ideas, the connection between verbal stimulus and physical response, is so hard-wired that even self-hypnosis won't shift it.
And as Charles discovers, the next time he tries to explain his research, recruit another mutant to the cause, or lecture his students on mutation, single-celled organisms or reproductive life forms, this particular association of ideas is going to make life as a professor of genetics really very awkward indeed.
Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/116572.html with
comments.
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Wordcount: 1070
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
Summary: Erik's leaning forward and staring at him as if Charles has just fallen from the sky. “That's the best thing I've ever heard,” he says. “Say it again.”
A/N: Written for X-Men Remix Madness, because I couldn't resist writing Charles's point of view on the events of
unforgotten's splendid fic Lines, which was a response to
professor's request for "the one where Erik spends all his time Nazi hunting and none of his time flirting, so he thinks Charles' pick-up lines are actually good."
Charles has no illusions about his chat-up lines; Raven's told him often enough how cheesy and awful they are. He's never seen any reason to change them, because nine times out of ten they work perfectly well, but he's not proud of them.
So when Erik asks him what he says to the girls to get them to go with him, Charles thinks at first that he can't be serious. Why would Erik, of all people, want to know that? Erik, who exudes sexual confidence, who's so bloody gorgeous he's obviously never needed pick-up lines to get what he wants. Erik, who has been altogether too much in Charles's thoughts ever since the first time he saw him in that damned wetsuit.
(Charles doesn't let himself think about the wetsuit unless it's really, really late at night and he's absolutely sure Erik is fast asleep. He has some rudimentary sense of self-preservation, and he knows that his thoughts about how Erik looked in that wetsuit can get ... loud.)
Erik's looking at him with an air of polite expectancy that makes Charles shiver, just a little.
“Ah,” Charles says, and swallows hard. “I don't know - well, I suppose I could tell you, if you'll promise not to make fun. Raven already laughs at my lines; I don't think I could take your doing it as well.”
Erik promises, and Charles takes a deep breath and launches into his routine.
He uses the “auburn hair” line, though it's not strictly accurate with Erik, but if he starts talking about the colour of Erik's eyes something dreadful is probably going to happen. It's as much as he can do not to stare at them as it is, or at Erik's mouth and his hands and his impossibly narrow waist... Concentrate, Xavier.
“Mutation took us from single-celled organisms to being the dominant form of reproductive life on this planet,” he concludes, trying not to squirm in his seat with embarrassment.
Erik's leaning forward and staring at him as if Charles has just fallen from the sky. “That's the best thing I've ever heard,” he says. “Say it again.”
“You promised not to make fun!” Charles protests, his stomach twisting with shame.
“I'm not,” Erik insists. “Say it again!”
Charles looks at him doubtfully, feeling he's just about to make an even bigger fool of himself than he already has, but then Erik says “Please”, and that does it, Charles is not going to fight this any more. He goes through the whole routine again, gives it his absolute best shot, complete with the intense gaze he's glad Raven never caught him practising in the mirror.
Erik stands up abruptly and leans over him, so close his lips are almost brushing against Charles's ear, and says “Bathroom.”
Charles is dizzy with lust and appalled by how much he wants to say yes to something so stupid dangerous crazy wrong. He's not sure if he can speak, but what comes out of his mouth sounds impossibly prim and nannyish: “In the bathroom? I think not.”
He feels a surge of hurt and shame and rejection from Erik at that, so strong that it breaks through all the shields he's been keeping in place since Erik told him to stay out of his head -
of course Charles doesn't want you why would you think he was interested in you like that stupid humiliating
“Oh, will you stop that!” Charles says, exasperated, because really... “All I meant is, we have a perfectly good hotel room. Honestly, Erik.”
He sounds remarkably calm and in control, given that his mind is doing the equivalent of turning cartwheels and letting off a firework display.
***
They get out of the bar as fast as they can, and the hotel's just round the corner, but Charles somehow manages to fit in several more repetitions at Erik's insistence before they get behind closed doors. He's amazed his voice is as steady as it is.
He's even more amazed at the effect that all of this is clearly - dear god, so clearly - having on Erik.
“Say it again,” Erik pleads, and Charles does, though he doesn't know how he can keep going when Erik's got him backed up against the bedroom door with his hand in Charles's pants. Erik's beautiful strong fingers are driving him crazy, not to mention Erik's lips pressing against the side of his neck or nuzzling his ear, his collarbone, moving down to pull and tease at his nipples, planting a line of kisses down to his navel and his cock.
Charles's voice is shaking by the time Erik takes him in his mouth and licks and sucks and teases and pushes him all the way to the edge and holds him there... He's had blowjobs before, but never one like this; he comes so hard he thinks he might actually have sprained something.
“I want to fuck you,” Erik says, and Charles moans, both at the words and the tightness of arousal in Erik's voice. “I want to fuck you and I want you to keep talking.”
“Oh god,” Charles says helplessly.
How he keeps going he'll never know, but somehow he does, as Erik's slick fingers work him open, sending pleasure sparking along his nerve endings; as Erik pushes into him, a long slow push that makes them both gasp, so good, yes... He goes on babbling about genetics and evolution as Erik fucks him, long and hard and deep, gorgeous slow friction and drag alternating with fierce thrusts that make him buck his hips and dig his nails into Erik's shoulders, till he can't bear it any longer, he has to come again, he has to...
***
Charles Xavier has a bone to pick with Pavlov, and possibly with Locke. Because by the time he's repeated his lines as many times as Erik's asked him to, through that long delicious torture of a blowjob and then through a truly surprising amount of the spectacular fucking that followed it, the association of ideas, the connection between verbal stimulus and physical response, is so hard-wired that even self-hypnosis won't shift it.
And as Charles discovers, the next time he tries to explain his research, recruit another mutant to the cause, or lecture his students on mutation, single-celled organisms or reproductive life forms, this particular association of ideas is going to make life as a professor of genetics really very awkward indeed.
Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/116572.html with
comments.