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schmericaLast of the prompt fics for now. This one goes out to pocky_slash. Happy things! Domestic AUs! Woot!
You're the moon, I'm the water
by Pearl-o
X-men: First Class. Erik/Charles. NC-17. ~1500 words.
This is the third in the A Smile Rising series (after Sometimes Rain That's Needed Falls and cleaning the windows between us), which is a modern, no-powers AU. I would recommend reading the other stories before this one.
Summary: In which Charles has good news, is cranky with his sister, and is bossy in bed.
*****
By the time he gets off the phone, Charles's anger has faded from his righteous rage down to a more petty annoyance. It's easy to get mad at Raven, but harder to stay mad at her. Most of the time, too, he's willing to admit he's generally as much at fault as she is. That's one of the things about siblings, after all; no matter how old you get, how mature, you're never really grown-ups together - there's too much history, you know each other too well. He and Raven fight often, and fight dirty, hitting each other's weak spots with unerring accuracy, but their fights are always short-lived. They move on just as quickly.
This one, though... Charles is still upset. And he thinks he has a right to be. He'd called tonight with good news, letting her know about his graduate school acceptance. It was fair for him to expect celebration and congratulations and nothing more. Certainly not the lecture he'd gotten.
He drops his cell phone down on the coffee table with more force than is strictly necessary, and rises slowly from his lounging position on the couch, up to his feet. Erik had been sitting in the recliner across the room, reading, when Charles had first dialed Raven's number. Charles isn't at all surprised that Erik disappeared as soon as the shouting started.
Erik can't stand raised voices. It was something that was hard for Charles to get used to, when they first got together. Yelling is, to Charles's mind, what you do when you get angry. The first time they had a serious argument, when he screamed at Erik, Erik's face, already upset, had gone pale and tight, everything shutting down completely, and he had stood up and walked out of the house without a single word. Charles had been shocked, left standing there alone in the house, stewing in his own anger. It was quite a bit later, after they had made up again, that Erik had tried to explain it to him, fumbling in his words with something that wasn't quite embarrassment, about his teenage years and some of his foster homes.
So, though Charles still yells when he's mad, he never yells at Erik.
He wanders through the house now, looking for Erik. It's not as though the place is particularly large, and yet it always seems to take him a long time to pin down Erik's location. This evening he finds him outside on the deck, sitting in a lawn chair, still reading his paperback thriller.
Charles takes the book slowly out of Erik's hands, closes it around the bookmark and places it on the small table at Erik's elbow. He climbs onto Erik's lap without a word, resting his hands atop Erik's shoulders and looking down into his face. This close he can see Erik's eyes even through his dark sunglasses. Charles leans down to him, nuzzling his own smooth cheek against Erik's faint rough stubble, and then presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Erik's hands come down to hold onto Charles's hipbones, his thumbs pressing tight into the stiff denim of his jeans. The position feels so familiar now, so natural. Like they were made to fit that way.
"Did you have a good talk with your sister?" Erik says.
Charles snorts. "Did it sound like it?"
Erik half-smiles and shrugs one shoulder.
Charles lifts the sunglasses off his face and sets them to the side, too, next to the book. He kisses the crinkled lines at the corner of one of Erik's eyes, and then the other. "My sister," Charles says, "is a raging bitch." He rubs his nose against Erik's in an Eskimo kiss.
Erik makes a pained face. "You know you're going to regret saying that in the morning," he says, slightly awkwardly. Erik's never all that comfortable talking about Charles's relationships with other people, particularly his family. It's worse with Raven, though, simply because Erik knows that he's one of the things they argue over.
"I just don't understand why she has to be like this," Charles says. "We've been together for ages now, and she still acts like - God. It's not even like she's tried to get to know you. It's like she's just being difficult for the sake of being difficult." He sighs. "But at least she agreed to come to the celebration dinner with us on Friday."
Erik doesn't say anything, but he presses the nails of one hand against Charles's thigh, scratching dull lines down the stiff fabric. It's comforting and arousing at the same time.
"I love you," Charles says. He sits up straight for a moment, looking around the yard. The fence is wooden, six feet high. They have plenty of privacy here, or at least enough for him to feel fine about dragging his sweater over his head and letting it drop down to the deck beside them, before he settles himself back down against Erik's chest. "You should kiss me now," Charles says, closing his eyes.
Erik does, wrapping his arms around Charles's back and pulling him in close. He's so good at doing what Charles wants, what Charles needs. He never lets him down that way. There are few things Charles likes better than feeling how strong Erik is. If they were in a bed, Charles would roll over onto his back, pull Erik over him, luxuriate in the feel of Erik's weight pressing him down into the mattress. Sometimes in the hallway, Erik will push him against a wall pinning his arms on either side of Charles's shoulders, looming over him, tall and broad and immovable - just because he knows how much Charles likes it.
"You want to move this inside?" Erik murmurs against Charles's throat. He follows the question with a soft nip of his teeth. Charles stretches his neck back, baring more of the skin there for Erik's mouth.
"No," Charles says, thinking it over. "I want you to get me off here, okay? And then we'll go inside and you can fuck me."
Erik doesn't reply with words, just responds with a light hum where he's sucking on Charles's throat. He moves his hands from Charles's hips down to his ass and shifts him bodily to a slightly different position. Then both of them have their hands between them, fumbling together to open Charles's fly. There's not much space, but Erik manages to slip his hand in below the waistband of Charles's boxers, his long warm fingers closing tight around Charles's cock. Not enough room to stroke properly, either, and the way he's fondling Charles, slow and affectionate and thoughful, could almost be a tease. Except it's not, not with the way Erik is still sucking hickeys against the thin skin of Charles's collarbone, not with the way Erik's other hand is still firm on Charles's ass, guiding him in a rhythm, slow forward into Erik's grip and back again to grind his ass against Erik's erection through both their pants, hard and huge and promising of more so soon.
"Fuck," Charles says. His eyes are closed, his arms wrapped helplessly around Erik's neck, and he can feel his body straining towards the orgasm, just out of reach, like the last lap of a run. "Oh, fuck, fuck me," Charles cries, and then that's it, he's over the edge, nothing but the feeling of Erik making him come.
He half-collapses against Erik's chest, breathing heavily and pressing light kisses to any skin within reach. Erik's hand leaves his ass and rests in the small of his back, rubbing a slow calming circle there. He's pretty sure if he could see Erik's face, Erik would be smiling, almost laughing at him, but he doesn't care.
"Just give me a minute," Charles says, blinking his eyes open slowly. "Just a minute and we'll go up to the bedroom and take care of you."
"Take your time," Erik says, and yes, Charles can hear the rich amusement pouring out of his voice. Erik moves a little, turning his head and pressing a kiss into Charles's hair; Charles can't help but sigh. "There's no hurry, after all," Erik continues, in a perfectly composed voice. He's still fully dressed, even his hair barely mussed, after he's taken Charles apart.
"Mm," Charles says, "you just wait." In another minute, he'll take Erik up to their bed and watch him lose his cool, watch everything hot and desperate and needy that Erik hides inside so well come shaking out of him despite himself. And maybe after that he'll email Raven, because in the aftermath of his orgasm and the calm that's come with it, he's sort of regretting some of the nastier things he said to her.
But that can wait, for now. Just another minute like this, curled together, everything quiet and soothing and comfortable. Just a minute more.
pocky_slash. Happy things! Domestic AUs! Woot!You're the moon, I'm the water
by Pearl-o
X-men: First Class. Erik/Charles. NC-17. ~1500 words.
This is the third in the A Smile Rising series (after Sometimes Rain That's Needed Falls and cleaning the windows between us), which is a modern, no-powers AU. I would recommend reading the other stories before this one.
Summary: In which Charles has good news, is cranky with his sister, and is bossy in bed.
*****
By the time he gets off the phone, Charles's anger has faded from his righteous rage down to a more petty annoyance. It's easy to get mad at Raven, but harder to stay mad at her. Most of the time, too, he's willing to admit he's generally as much at fault as she is. That's one of the things about siblings, after all; no matter how old you get, how mature, you're never really grown-ups together - there's too much history, you know each other too well. He and Raven fight often, and fight dirty, hitting each other's weak spots with unerring accuracy, but their fights are always short-lived. They move on just as quickly.
This one, though... Charles is still upset. And he thinks he has a right to be. He'd called tonight with good news, letting her know about his graduate school acceptance. It was fair for him to expect celebration and congratulations and nothing more. Certainly not the lecture he'd gotten.
He drops his cell phone down on the coffee table with more force than is strictly necessary, and rises slowly from his lounging position on the couch, up to his feet. Erik had been sitting in the recliner across the room, reading, when Charles had first dialed Raven's number. Charles isn't at all surprised that Erik disappeared as soon as the shouting started.
Erik can't stand raised voices. It was something that was hard for Charles to get used to, when they first got together. Yelling is, to Charles's mind, what you do when you get angry. The first time they had a serious argument, when he screamed at Erik, Erik's face, already upset, had gone pale and tight, everything shutting down completely, and he had stood up and walked out of the house without a single word. Charles had been shocked, left standing there alone in the house, stewing in his own anger. It was quite a bit later, after they had made up again, that Erik had tried to explain it to him, fumbling in his words with something that wasn't quite embarrassment, about his teenage years and some of his foster homes.
So, though Charles still yells when he's mad, he never yells at Erik.
He wanders through the house now, looking for Erik. It's not as though the place is particularly large, and yet it always seems to take him a long time to pin down Erik's location. This evening he finds him outside on the deck, sitting in a lawn chair, still reading his paperback thriller.
Charles takes the book slowly out of Erik's hands, closes it around the bookmark and places it on the small table at Erik's elbow. He climbs onto Erik's lap without a word, resting his hands atop Erik's shoulders and looking down into his face. This close he can see Erik's eyes even through his dark sunglasses. Charles leans down to him, nuzzling his own smooth cheek against Erik's faint rough stubble, and then presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Erik's hands come down to hold onto Charles's hipbones, his thumbs pressing tight into the stiff denim of his jeans. The position feels so familiar now, so natural. Like they were made to fit that way.
"Did you have a good talk with your sister?" Erik says.
Charles snorts. "Did it sound like it?"
Erik half-smiles and shrugs one shoulder.
Charles lifts the sunglasses off his face and sets them to the side, too, next to the book. He kisses the crinkled lines at the corner of one of Erik's eyes, and then the other. "My sister," Charles says, "is a raging bitch." He rubs his nose against Erik's in an Eskimo kiss.
Erik makes a pained face. "You know you're going to regret saying that in the morning," he says, slightly awkwardly. Erik's never all that comfortable talking about Charles's relationships with other people, particularly his family. It's worse with Raven, though, simply because Erik knows that he's one of the things they argue over.
"I just don't understand why she has to be like this," Charles says. "We've been together for ages now, and she still acts like - God. It's not even like she's tried to get to know you. It's like she's just being difficult for the sake of being difficult." He sighs. "But at least she agreed to come to the celebration dinner with us on Friday."
Erik doesn't say anything, but he presses the nails of one hand against Charles's thigh, scratching dull lines down the stiff fabric. It's comforting and arousing at the same time.
"I love you," Charles says. He sits up straight for a moment, looking around the yard. The fence is wooden, six feet high. They have plenty of privacy here, or at least enough for him to feel fine about dragging his sweater over his head and letting it drop down to the deck beside them, before he settles himself back down against Erik's chest. "You should kiss me now," Charles says, closing his eyes.
Erik does, wrapping his arms around Charles's back and pulling him in close. He's so good at doing what Charles wants, what Charles needs. He never lets him down that way. There are few things Charles likes better than feeling how strong Erik is. If they were in a bed, Charles would roll over onto his back, pull Erik over him, luxuriate in the feel of Erik's weight pressing him down into the mattress. Sometimes in the hallway, Erik will push him against a wall pinning his arms on either side of Charles's shoulders, looming over him, tall and broad and immovable - just because he knows how much Charles likes it.
"You want to move this inside?" Erik murmurs against Charles's throat. He follows the question with a soft nip of his teeth. Charles stretches his neck back, baring more of the skin there for Erik's mouth.
"No," Charles says, thinking it over. "I want you to get me off here, okay? And then we'll go inside and you can fuck me."
Erik doesn't reply with words, just responds with a light hum where he's sucking on Charles's throat. He moves his hands from Charles's hips down to his ass and shifts him bodily to a slightly different position. Then both of them have their hands between them, fumbling together to open Charles's fly. There's not much space, but Erik manages to slip his hand in below the waistband of Charles's boxers, his long warm fingers closing tight around Charles's cock. Not enough room to stroke properly, either, and the way he's fondling Charles, slow and affectionate and thoughful, could almost be a tease. Except it's not, not with the way Erik is still sucking hickeys against the thin skin of Charles's collarbone, not with the way Erik's other hand is still firm on Charles's ass, guiding him in a rhythm, slow forward into Erik's grip and back again to grind his ass against Erik's erection through both their pants, hard and huge and promising of more so soon.
"Fuck," Charles says. His eyes are closed, his arms wrapped helplessly around Erik's neck, and he can feel his body straining towards the orgasm, just out of reach, like the last lap of a run. "Oh, fuck, fuck me," Charles cries, and then that's it, he's over the edge, nothing but the feeling of Erik making him come.
He half-collapses against Erik's chest, breathing heavily and pressing light kisses to any skin within reach. Erik's hand leaves his ass and rests in the small of his back, rubbing a slow calming circle there. He's pretty sure if he could see Erik's face, Erik would be smiling, almost laughing at him, but he doesn't care.
"Just give me a minute," Charles says, blinking his eyes open slowly. "Just a minute and we'll go up to the bedroom and take care of you."
"Take your time," Erik says, and yes, Charles can hear the rich amusement pouring out of his voice. Erik moves a little, turning his head and pressing a kiss into Charles's hair; Charles can't help but sigh. "There's no hurry, after all," Erik continues, in a perfectly composed voice. He's still fully dressed, even his hair barely mussed, after he's taken Charles apart.
"Mm," Charles says, "you just wait." In another minute, he'll take Erik up to their bed and watch him lose his cool, watch everything hot and desperate and needy that Erik hides inside so well come shaking out of him despite himself. And maybe after that he'll email Raven, because in the aftermath of his orgasm and the calm that's come with it, he's sort of regretting some of the nastier things he said to her.
But that can wait, for now. Just another minute like this, curled together, everything quiet and soothing and comfortable. Just a minute more.
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