More tumblr picture ficlets

[schmerica]

Two more picture ficlets from tumblr, both set in the same universe, which I'm still trying to figure out. The pictures look rather better in tumblr's photosets, but what are you going to do?




The record comes to an end, fading to hisses and scratches. He should get up from the floor and change it, put on something new, but he doesn't - just stretches out his legs, takes another drag of his cigarette.

"Nasty habit," Erik says, breaking his haze, and Charles opens his eyes and turns his head to the side to see him standing in the doorway. Erik is still wearing his suit, his overcoat, holding his briefcase at his side. He looks ... delicious. Charles feels a little underdressed, stretched across the floor on his old ratty sweater and sweatpants. He likes the contrast, though, somehow; it takes him feel like a kept man. A little kinky.

"You caught me," Charles says. It's odd to think Erik hasn't seen him smoke before. He doesn't do it all the time, but often enough. It reminds him, again, that they really haven't known each other all that long, however it might feel. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Erik says. There's a hint of humor in his voice, but his expression is nothing but serious. Charles stretches again, enjoying the way Erik's gaze follows the movement of his body.

"I'm going to go make dinner," Erik says, but he doesn't move at all.

Charles smiles, pushes himself up on his elbows and reaches out for the ashtray by his side to stub out his cigarette.

He lays back down and says, "I think it can wait a while, don't you?" He meets Erik's eyes and wait.

Erik's voice is a deep rumble out of his chest. "Perhaps."

"Come here," Charles says, resting his hand on his stomach, and he watches, satisfied, as Erik sets down his case and steps forward into the room, falling to his knees at Charles's side.




[Same universe as this, I think]

It's not the sort of place he would ever have expected Erik to pick out - though he's not sure what he would have expected, really. Some place sleek and modern, probably, luxurious but understated. Certainly not a frou-frou B&B, with needlepoint pillows on the settee and doilies on all the furniture.

He dump his overnight bag into the wardrobe, not bothering to unpack, and circles the room, picking up the occasional knickknack, running his hand over the dark wood paneling. He reaches the bed again and sits down on the edge of the mattress, bouncing up and down on it a couple of times. It's very firm, almost hard, even, way firmer than Charles likes it himself, but the way he's already discovered Erik prefers.

Charles stands up again, leaning against the bedpost, hands in his pocket, trying not to fidget. It's a relief when the bathroom door finally - finally - opens, and Erik enters the room again.

The steam follows Erik out. He's wearing a bathrobe, huge and fluffy and white. He's shaved off his five o'clock shadow. His hair is mussed in a way that makes it obvious he's just given it a brief towel-dry and nothing more. Charles wants to bury his hands in it.

"That's better," Erik says. "You sure you don't want to shower? Get off some of the grime from those hours on the road?"

"I'm fine," Charles says. He sits down on the foot of the bed and watches Erik dress, piece by piece, quickly and efficiently. Charles would have liked a show, but he figures that can wait for later, when he gets back Erik out of the chinos and polo again.

"This isn't what I expected when you said we were going away for the weekend," Charles says lightly. "Are we going to explore the foliage tomorrow?"

Erik looks at him seriously. "Do you want to? I can certainly arrange it."

Charles shakes his head, smiling. "Not at all. I'm sure we can find better things to do."