158. INSOMNIA

[lunardances]

the i n s o m n i a meme

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004 → Solitude

[butwedonot]

[ He had, he figures, counted almost every little crack in the ceiling twice but his thoughts refused to give him repreive. Sunken into the middle of that large, but soft, bed; he found himself wondering how many others were having a restless night sleep. Most of them, after a quick survey, seemed to be doing fine-- better than Charles anyway. There was some anxiousness he couldn't rid and a strangely empty feeling coming from his normally comfortable bed. Pulling the blanket down he sighed and slid out of it.

Charles paced around his room, around the study, the kitchen, even on the back terrace before he found himself nearly walking on auto-pilot. So when he arrived at Erik's door it was a little surprising. Biting the inside of his cheek to quell how entirely awkward it could be he sent out a lightly probing thought, ] Erik? [ He didn't want to just wander in if the man was already resting-- they both needed their sleep, and he didn't need to set anyone off either. ]

[butwedonot]

[ His lips part with a soundless sigh, as if the simplest of touches could render him speechless; in this instance that seems to be true. The reddened skin of his lower lip wet as it was drawn in and then raked through his teeth, a nervous habit that played along with his constant need to touch his mouth. Currently, he found he wasn't able to move his hand from where it was bunched down into Erik's bed or the other which hovered uselessly near his knee. The trace of Erik's thumb along his cheek, the fingers moving into his hair, causes another intake of breath. It's like electric sparks to his skin, down his spine, and he he wonders if it's always felt that way-- or if it was just because Erik had taken up all of his focus

[drlehnsherr]

[ Tilting his head to change the angle-- Erik's tongue sweeps the inside of the telepath's mouth; softer than he had imagined, and vastly warmer; and it brings them closer still. The press of the other man's hand against the center of his chest does not cause him to stop, just to hesitate for the most brief second; because there's something so deeply personal in the touch-- settled directly above the bow of his ribs; feverish in its exuded heat. He moves forward, free hand sliding to grip Charles' waist; fingers winding in the knitted fabric; catching it tightly. The kiss breaks of its own accord, and he's reluctant to separate them further, nose still that bare inch away from Charles' own-- sharing the humid air; his own breathing still relatively even. With his upper lip pulling back, Erik smiles-- and it's a private expression; when his eyes snap up to meet the telepath's-- intended for him alone; their requited secret. And now that they've crossed that line, Erik's loathe to move further away than he needs to-- so drawn towards

[butwedonot]

[ There's something far more intimate to him about this than even more personal, physical, experiences. It's dizzying for a moment, the depth of sensation in comparison to previous so-called intimate moments. They hadn't been like this, not at all; he can tell because he's never wanted to just laugh because of all the warm sensations Erik's lips stirred in his gut. The smile he felt tingle at his lips whenever Erik was in his bubble of space-- even if they pointedly avoided any serious touching-- just being close had been enough for him at first. The feelings, the deeper ones, had been terrifying for him at first-- so close and so deep and Erik was a man. For all his open minded nature, that was something far out of his realm of experience, his knowledge, it had startled him. He knew the biology of it, at least what studies had proven with humans and animals, and it had never bothered him in anyone else. There was a difference though, when it was himHe came to realize after some introspection and careful review of his own thoughts and

[drlehnsherr]

[ It's a terrible kind of relief-- double-edged for him, and dangerous; but the telepath's gentle constancy does calm him; stilling the sudden upsurge of doubt; which is trodden down with such ease that it catches him. Charles leans into him; the dark hair he's envisioned threading his fingers through-- now material in his hand; and the unreality of the situation is gone, because he has Charles here, with him now-- and it's something he'd wanted before, unclassified, and unacknowledged, but still somewhat present; a malcontent with what they had established so far-- the want for more. It would be perfectly appropriate for him to close the hair's breadth of a gap-- but he holds back, enjoying that freely given potential. He's unfamiliar with how the new steps work; the progression they've just made, outside of the familiar confines of their friendship-- but Erik is nothing if not solid in his convictions; in this as with everything, and he shifts again, gently pulling the other man towards him with an encouraging press against his

[butwedonot]

[ Charles shifts against Erik, settling so easily under the hold of his arm, almost frighteningly comfortable with the feel of it-- as if the two men were fitted pieces of a puzzle. The connection had long been there, mentally, drawing the two of them close-- the first spark had rattled Charles unlike anything else had before. These new touches came close, each shooting along his nerves, the heat of Erik's skin alerting him to every point of contact, every little movement. He knows he should be startled, worried even, by the way they mesh in these movements but all he can find is satisfaction in the quell of his wants. Erik has accepted his desires; that alone was a relief, but his reciprocation brought a warmth to his chest.

The question startles him out of his contentment, however faintly, because he hadn't honestly expected him to ask that of all things. He pushes down the anxious feelings and speaks, softer than before, ] For-- for some time now. I think the feeling had always been there, but I wasn't entirely sure what it was

[drlehnsherr]

Me too. [ There isn't much else of a confirmation needed, but the sincerity is in his face and the timbre of his voice; pitched low with honesty and Erik can't avoid slipping both arms around the telepath at the shared confession, head dipping to kiss his shoulder and breath in the mustiness of the cardigan that makes him seem so much older than he really is-- the clothing of a scholar, no parallel to the man that Erik's slowly coming to know here. He speaks into the fabric, ] The satellite dish, Charles, that's when it was clearest. [ No one knew him as Charles did; it is a comfortable kind of coexistence that is possible between them, without the pressure that would come with any other sort of relationship. He's uncertain if he's been given leave to take this further, but he threads his fingers through the loose strands of hair that curl against the telepath's neck, pausing to really look at him for a long second, warmth in every minute twitch of expression. ]

One of us should have said something sooner. [ An experimental tendril

[butwedonot]

[ The brush of warm breath, the surprising softness of his words, all of it draws him into Erik further and further. A little tip of his head, not much, just enough to let his cheek press to the side of Erik's temple. Lips ghosting the tops of his hair, watching them sway just a tad under the pressure of his own breath. Erik had a point, on the veranda when the two of them had been so in tune; when Erik had allowed him back inside, to those deeper, beautiful memories that the man had so neglected. He had felt that connection burn so strongly it had scared him a bit; in a way he supposed he should have been grateful to Moira for the interruption. ]

Yes, but perhaps we just weren't ready. [ Charles wasn't entirely sure he was ready yet, but he refused to back down, not when he had finally taken that stop forward. He want's Erik to know that much, at least, that he wont run or abandon him-- regardless of what he's done, what he wants to do, because it's so much deeper than that. He smiles, it's light but entirely sincere and brimming

[drlehnsherr]

[ A hand reaches up to hover against the other man's jaw, fingers experimentally tracing along the edge of it; the pale skin and the most miniscule signature of the blood beneath it-- he lifts his own head, bringing them face to face again, the shock of blue that Charles' eyes always hold for him; so exclusively focused on him alone now. Covetously, maybe, be looks back-- and leans forward, broaching the gap again to kiss the telepath, aware that this is entirely within his right now, in light of that confession. It's a dangerously intoxicating movement, and he knows that this will wound them both one day-- but he's too preoccupied with that mouth; fingers now twined in the sweater in order to bring Charles closer, to pull him in. Erik shifts backwards on the bed, breaking the kiss to allow the younger man up beside him, tongue running over his bottom lip.

He looks up, no answering smile-- just that grave affection; the smallest hint of a reflexive authority, even in this situation. ] Come here.