XMM ficlet: "Tension" (Charles/Erik, R)
Title: Tension
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: R
Wordcount: ~1500
Author's Notes: A long time ago, on a LiveJournal far, far away, I offered to write penknife a fic. She asked for reasonably happy Charles/Erik, and I started this...and let it sit unfinished for over two years. I'm on a "finish X-fics!" kick, so, here it is. Long overdue, but I hope you like it.
Summary: Erik and Charles come to a renewed understanding of their differences when-- oh, who am I kidding? This is really just some pointless fluff.
Feedback is always welcome. :)
Tension
"Charles, this really isn't necessary." Erik folded his arms in front of his chest and scowled at the buttons of the elevator, wishing he'd never mentioned it.
Charles sighed. "You'd prefer to keep the neck ache, then?"
"It isn't very bad."
"And you are a terrible liar." The doors opened, and Charles gestured for Erik to precede him down the hall.
Erik did so, still with his arms crossed tight. "I could take another aspirin," he said stiffly. He turned the knob with a motion of one finger and opened the bedroom door with a nod. That hurt, and he clenched his jaw as he waited for Charles to enter.
"I just don't see why you're so reluctant," said Charles over his shoulder on his way to sit by the bed. "It's a massage. I've heard people like them," he added, turning to Erik. The corner of his mouth twitched.
Erik sighed and sat beside him. "It would be...odd."
"Oh, certainly. Given that we've been intimate since we were teenagers, a massage would be out of the question."
A chuckle escaped Erik before he could suppress it, and he winced and clutched the back of his neck. "Don't make me laugh."
"Don't give me cause to." Charles smiled, then reached over and cupped Erik's knee with his palm. "I want to do this, Erik. Will you indulge me?"
Erik's hand had covered Charles' almost out of habit, and he looked down at them, at his thumb stroking lightly over Charles' knuckles. "Will you keep hounding me until I agree?"
"Very probably."
"Ah." Erik smiled. "What would you like me to do, then?"
Charles withdrew his hand and met Erik's eyes, looking amused. "First, you'll need to undress. Then stretch out on the bed."
"If you wanted me undressed and in bed, you could've just asked, Charles," Erik said as he reached for the top button of his shirt.
Charles just laughed, watching as Erik divested himself of clothing.
"Should I lie on my stomach? And where do you want me?"
"Yes, and here on the side of the bed," Charles replied. Erik stretched out where Charles had indicated and turned his face away so that he would have access to the back of his neck. The moment Charles' palms began to rub slow circles on his shoulders, he groaned softly, wondering why he'd put up such a fight.
Charles kneaded his shoulders for a moment before pulling away all too soon. Erik stifled a noise of protest and turned to see Charles regarding him with a thoughtful expression.
"What's the matter?"
Charles frowned slightly, causing the creases in his forehead to deepen. "The angle is wrong. I thought I'd be able to reach more easily."
"I see." Erik propped himself up on one elbow; grunted quietly as the movement caused something at the base of his skull to twinge. "Care to join me, then?"
"Now who's trying to get whom into bed?" Charles muttered, but a smile played around his lips. "But yes, I think that would be better."
Erik nodded, reminded himself to stop moving his head so much, and moved toward the center of the bed. He laid back down on his stomach and turned his face away.
The mattress dipped as Charles' weight settled, there was halting movement, and then Charles' hands were warm on his shoulders again. Erik inhaled through his nose when one of the hands began to move, rubbing firmly, squeezing patterns on his upper back.
He could almost hear Charles' smile, and he tried to restrain himself, but he couldn't stifle a loud moan when Charles began to stroke two fingers hard along the vertebrae in his neck. The fingers paused.
"Did I hurt you?"
"Don't stop."
Charles chuckled, and his fingers resumed their movement. "You know," he said after a moment, "this would be easier if I knew where it hurt."
Erik nodded as best he could with his face half-buried in the blanket. "Go ahead."
Charles entered, light as a hand poised over skin, and Erik sensed him flinch. "It is bad, isn't it," said Charles as he pressed his thumb into a knotted muscle.
"It's a stiff neck. I doubt I'll die from it."
Amusement traveled across their bond as Charles' thumb circled another tight knot of pain. "You've been working too hard."
"And you worry too much. What's your point?"
"Don't have one," murmured Charles, sounding as if he were enjoying the massage almost as much as Erik. He worked in silence for awhile, systematically finding each painful spot and kneading the tension out. Erik closed his eyes and basked in the sensations of his bare skin against the blanket and Charles' talented fingers digging into his neck and shoulders.
Erik was almost lulled to sleep by the time Charles ran one hand up his neck and into his hair, skating fingernails lightly across Erik's scalp. Erik moaned as gooseflesh prickled his skin, then stretched like a cat and carefully turned to look up at Charles.
"Mmm. Done?" he managed to murmur. His vocal cords seemed to have deserted him, along with most coherent thought.
"No," Charles said. "Not yet."
"But my neck feels--" he broke off when Charles began to rub his shoulder blades again, the heel of his hand digging deep into muscles Erik hadn't even realized were tense. "Charles," he protested, trying to sound as if he meant it, "this is unnecessary."
"No," Charles said softly. "It isn't." He continued to massage, downward, this time. At one point, he spread his hands flat on the middle of Erik's back in order to push himself further down the bed, and Erik bit back a groan. Charles' full weight felt wonderful, almost painful in a deeply pleasant way. Erik sent a vague thought about that to him, unable to find precise words that didn't sound ridiculous or insulting.
Charles laughed quietly and ran his knuckles along the lower curve of Erik's spine. "I didn't even think. I'm sorry."
"No," Erik murmured, arching into his touch. "Do it again." Charles pressed hard with both hands, and Erik moaned aloud, not caring if the world-at the very least, the students--knew how good it felt. "My God, Charles, why haven't we done this before?"
"Probably because you're not only stoic, but stubborn as a mule, as well."
"There's the pot calling the kettle black."
"Perhaps." Charles' hands roamed lower still, then squeezed a little as they shaped the curve of Erik's buttocks. Erik smiled into the blanket as arousal curled lazily somewhere in the pit of his stomach. "I doubt I'd put up so much of a fuss over a massage, though," Charles added, trailing his fingertips down the back of one thigh.
Erik only smiled again, too lost in the sensation of Charles' blunt fingernails grazing the sensitive skin behind his knee to form any sort of reply. He flexed his calves with pleasure and subtly shifted his hardening cock against the bedclothes.
Charles inhaled, soft but sharp, and failed to hide a deep, wistful ache that Erik didn't really need the telepathic bond to feel. An idea struck him suddenly, and he rolled onto his side. Looked at Charles, who sat with one hand paused on Erik's calf.
"So," Erik said. "You wouldn't protest a massage?"
Charles looked startled. "Well, I suppose not. Theoretically. But my neck doesn't ache."
"My rear didn't, either," Erik said pointedly. Charles watched him with an expression somewhere between wary and amused, and Erik smiled as he sat up and moved closer. "Come here," he murmured into Charles' shoulder. The flesh against his lips was pale and soft, and Erik couldn't resist the urge to bite, then lick, as he drew Charles down on top of him.
"Now this truly is unnecessary, Erik."
"No." Erik leaned up to brush a kiss against Charles' lips. "It isn't." He kissed him again, deeper, and rolled them over so that Charles was on his back. Charles' hands tightened on his upper arms, and he made a raw, inarticulate sound when Erik moved up and rolled his hips so that the hot and rigid length of himself ground against the crisp cotton of Charles' shirt.
He pulled away at last, breathing heavily, and waited until Charles had situated himself against the pillows, watching.
"Don't let go," Erik thought, mock-sternly, as he shifted to sit cross-legged, facing Charles. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but then, the easy part-the part of himself that was both simple and enjoyable to touch-would come later. For now, he began to rub his feet.
The look on Charles' face was worth it.
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: R
Wordcount: ~1500
Author's Notes: A long time ago, on a LiveJournal far, far away, I offered to write penknife a fic. She asked for reasonably happy Charles/Erik, and I started this...and let it sit unfinished for over two years. I'm on a "finish X-fics!" kick, so, here it is. Long overdue, but I hope you like it.
Summary: Erik and Charles come to a renewed understanding of their differences when-- oh, who am I kidding? This is really just some pointless fluff.
Feedback is always welcome. :)
Tension
"Charles, this really isn't necessary." Erik folded his arms in front of his chest and scowled at the buttons of the elevator, wishing he'd never mentioned it.
Charles sighed. "You'd prefer to keep the neck ache, then?"
"It isn't very bad."
"And you are a terrible liar." The doors opened, and Charles gestured for Erik to precede him down the hall.
Erik did so, still with his arms crossed tight. "I could take another aspirin," he said stiffly. He turned the knob with a motion of one finger and opened the bedroom door with a nod. That hurt, and he clenched his jaw as he waited for Charles to enter.
"I just don't see why you're so reluctant," said Charles over his shoulder on his way to sit by the bed. "It's a massage. I've heard people like them," he added, turning to Erik. The corner of his mouth twitched.
Erik sighed and sat beside him. "It would be...odd."
"Oh, certainly. Given that we've been intimate since we were teenagers, a massage would be out of the question."
A chuckle escaped Erik before he could suppress it, and he winced and clutched the back of his neck. "Don't make me laugh."
"Don't give me cause to." Charles smiled, then reached over and cupped Erik's knee with his palm. "I want to do this, Erik. Will you indulge me?"
Erik's hand had covered Charles' almost out of habit, and he looked down at them, at his thumb stroking lightly over Charles' knuckles. "Will you keep hounding me until I agree?"
"Very probably."
"Ah." Erik smiled. "What would you like me to do, then?"
Charles withdrew his hand and met Erik's eyes, looking amused. "First, you'll need to undress. Then stretch out on the bed."
"If you wanted me undressed and in bed, you could've just asked, Charles," Erik said as he reached for the top button of his shirt.
Charles just laughed, watching as Erik divested himself of clothing.
"Should I lie on my stomach? And where do you want me?"
"Yes, and here on the side of the bed," Charles replied. Erik stretched out where Charles had indicated and turned his face away so that he would have access to the back of his neck. The moment Charles' palms began to rub slow circles on his shoulders, he groaned softly, wondering why he'd put up such a fight.
Charles kneaded his shoulders for a moment before pulling away all too soon. Erik stifled a noise of protest and turned to see Charles regarding him with a thoughtful expression.
"What's the matter?"
Charles frowned slightly, causing the creases in his forehead to deepen. "The angle is wrong. I thought I'd be able to reach more easily."
"I see." Erik propped himself up on one elbow; grunted quietly as the movement caused something at the base of his skull to twinge. "Care to join me, then?"
"Now who's trying to get whom into bed?" Charles muttered, but a smile played around his lips. "But yes, I think that would be better."
Erik nodded, reminded himself to stop moving his head so much, and moved toward the center of the bed. He laid back down on his stomach and turned his face away.
The mattress dipped as Charles' weight settled, there was halting movement, and then Charles' hands were warm on his shoulders again. Erik inhaled through his nose when one of the hands began to move, rubbing firmly, squeezing patterns on his upper back.
He could almost hear Charles' smile, and he tried to restrain himself, but he couldn't stifle a loud moan when Charles began to stroke two fingers hard along the vertebrae in his neck. The fingers paused.
"Did I hurt you?"
"Don't stop."
Charles chuckled, and his fingers resumed their movement. "You know," he said after a moment, "this would be easier if I knew where it hurt."
Erik nodded as best he could with his face half-buried in the blanket. "Go ahead."
Charles entered, light as a hand poised over skin, and Erik sensed him flinch. "It is bad, isn't it," said Charles as he pressed his thumb into a knotted muscle.
"It's a stiff neck. I doubt I'll die from it."
Amusement traveled across their bond as Charles' thumb circled another tight knot of pain. "You've been working too hard."
"And you worry too much. What's your point?"
"Don't have one," murmured Charles, sounding as if he were enjoying the massage almost as much as Erik. He worked in silence for awhile, systematically finding each painful spot and kneading the tension out. Erik closed his eyes and basked in the sensations of his bare skin against the blanket and Charles' talented fingers digging into his neck and shoulders.
Erik was almost lulled to sleep by the time Charles ran one hand up his neck and into his hair, skating fingernails lightly across Erik's scalp. Erik moaned as gooseflesh prickled his skin, then stretched like a cat and carefully turned to look up at Charles.
"Mmm. Done?" he managed to murmur. His vocal cords seemed to have deserted him, along with most coherent thought.
"No," Charles said. "Not yet."
"But my neck feels--" he broke off when Charles began to rub his shoulder blades again, the heel of his hand digging deep into muscles Erik hadn't even realized were tense. "Charles," he protested, trying to sound as if he meant it, "this is unnecessary."
"No," Charles said softly. "It isn't." He continued to massage, downward, this time. At one point, he spread his hands flat on the middle of Erik's back in order to push himself further down the bed, and Erik bit back a groan. Charles' full weight felt wonderful, almost painful in a deeply pleasant way. Erik sent a vague thought about that to him, unable to find precise words that didn't sound ridiculous or insulting.
Charles laughed quietly and ran his knuckles along the lower curve of Erik's spine. "I didn't even think. I'm sorry."
"No," Erik murmured, arching into his touch. "Do it again." Charles pressed hard with both hands, and Erik moaned aloud, not caring if the world-at the very least, the students--knew how good it felt. "My God, Charles, why haven't we done this before?"
"Probably because you're not only stoic, but stubborn as a mule, as well."
"There's the pot calling the kettle black."
"Perhaps." Charles' hands roamed lower still, then squeezed a little as they shaped the curve of Erik's buttocks. Erik smiled into the blanket as arousal curled lazily somewhere in the pit of his stomach. "I doubt I'd put up so much of a fuss over a massage, though," Charles added, trailing his fingertips down the back of one thigh.
Erik only smiled again, too lost in the sensation of Charles' blunt fingernails grazing the sensitive skin behind his knee to form any sort of reply. He flexed his calves with pleasure and subtly shifted his hardening cock against the bedclothes.
Charles inhaled, soft but sharp, and failed to hide a deep, wistful ache that Erik didn't really need the telepathic bond to feel. An idea struck him suddenly, and he rolled onto his side. Looked at Charles, who sat with one hand paused on Erik's calf.
"So," Erik said. "You wouldn't protest a massage?"
Charles looked startled. "Well, I suppose not. Theoretically. But my neck doesn't ache."
"My rear didn't, either," Erik said pointedly. Charles watched him with an expression somewhere between wary and amused, and Erik smiled as he sat up and moved closer. "Come here," he murmured into Charles' shoulder. The flesh against his lips was pale and soft, and Erik couldn't resist the urge to bite, then lick, as he drew Charles down on top of him.
"Now this truly is unnecessary, Erik."
"No." Erik leaned up to brush a kiss against Charles' lips. "It isn't." He kissed him again, deeper, and rolled them over so that Charles was on his back. Charles' hands tightened on his upper arms, and he made a raw, inarticulate sound when Erik moved up and rolled his hips so that the hot and rigid length of himself ground against the crisp cotton of Charles' shirt.
He pulled away at last, breathing heavily, and waited until Charles had situated himself against the pillows, watching.
"Don't let go," Erik thought, mock-sternly, as he shifted to sit cross-legged, facing Charles. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but then, the easy part-the part of himself that was both simple and enjoyable to touch-would come later. For now, he began to rub his feet.
The look on Charles' face was worth it.