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schmericaA Thimbleful of Wine
by Pearl-o
X-men: First Class, Erik/Charles, PG, ~700 words. Mutant recruitment road trip.
Summary: The first night of their trip, Charles says, "I think we ought to have a talk about sex."
*****
The first night of their trip, Charles says, "I think we ought to have a talk about sex."
They have only just checked into the motel; Erik has only had time to set his suitcase onto one of the mattresses and slip off his leather jacket. He pauses, jacket still in his hands, and looks over to Charles.
Erik says: "Pardon?"
Charles has seated himself on the edge of the far bed, leaning back slightly, his hands on the comforter. Matter-of-factly, he says, "We're both adults here, Erik. I think we should be able to discuss it."
"What exactly is it you think there is to discuss?" Erik says. "I don't see how it's going to be relevant on this trip. I'm not planning on picking up girls while we have work to do. I wouldn't think you would, either."
Charles's lips curl in a faint smile. He drags his teeth over his lower lip before he speaks again. "I told you the other night, Erik. I know everything about you." His expression goes suddenly serious as he looks at Erik. "I think we both know how much you want to suck my cock."
Everything freezes. There's a hissing in Erik's head like radio static, the snow of an untuned TV. He breathes through it, resisting the urge to strike out, even though every piece of metal in the room is calling out to him.
"I don't know what you think you saw in my head," Erik says slowly, "but I'd be damned before I went down on my knees for you." For anybody.
The tone of his voice, low and intense, is one that's always intimidated the people he's used it with, but Charles looks not at all affected. He looks more curious, fascinated, than anything else.
"Well, first of all," Charles says, "that's an awfully restrictive view of the activity, I have to say. There are so many more options than that. But, really, Erik, you do know - there's nothing wrong with it, you know. Trust me, it's much more common than people would like you to believe. Yes, I know," he says, waving a dismissive hand at Erik when he attempts to interrupt, "you don't care what anybody thinks of you. Still."
Erik waits for a few seconds before asking, "Are you finished?"
Charles shrugs and says, "For now."
His arrogance, his sheer nerve, is astounding. Erik is not sure whether to be annoyed or to admire him. Everything about Charles that should repel him seems to do the opposite and Erik doesn't know why, and that fact alone is frustrating beyond belief, because Erik knows the reasons behind every action he takes.
"Fine," Erik says. "I'm going to get some sleep. I suggest you do the same."
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," Charles says, not sounding sorry at all. He stands up and crosses the room, stopping a few feet from Erik. "I just want you to know, when you change your mind - it's all right. Whenever you decide to kiss me."
"I'm not going to change my mind," Erik says through gritted teeth.
"All right," Charles says, and he smiles at Erik again before moving past into the bathroom and shutting the door behind himself.
Erik strips down to his shorts and climbs into the bed he's claimed, ignoring the faint sounds of running water. He rests his head against the pillow and closes his eyes, and starts his familiar ritual. Images in his head, memories of Schmidt and what he did, but also visions of what is yet to come, all the plans Erik has made and is going to see through - it's the same thing Erik has fallen asleep to for years. He's engrossed in it; he's concentrating so hard that he almost doesn't notice the noises of Charles exiting the bathroom, getting ready for asleep across the room.
Almost - but even now, astonishingly, some part of him is still centered on Charles's presence. Erik's focus is split, for the first time in his memory, and he doesn't understand it at all.
He's still mulling it over as he falls asleep.
by Pearl-o
X-men: First Class, Erik/Charles, PG, ~700 words. Mutant recruitment road trip.
Summary: The first night of their trip, Charles says, "I think we ought to have a talk about sex."
*****
The first night of their trip, Charles says, "I think we ought to have a talk about sex."
They have only just checked into the motel; Erik has only had time to set his suitcase onto one of the mattresses and slip off his leather jacket. He pauses, jacket still in his hands, and looks over to Charles.
Erik says: "Pardon?"
Charles has seated himself on the edge of the far bed, leaning back slightly, his hands on the comforter. Matter-of-factly, he says, "We're both adults here, Erik. I think we should be able to discuss it."
"What exactly is it you think there is to discuss?" Erik says. "I don't see how it's going to be relevant on this trip. I'm not planning on picking up girls while we have work to do. I wouldn't think you would, either."
Charles's lips curl in a faint smile. He drags his teeth over his lower lip before he speaks again. "I told you the other night, Erik. I know everything about you." His expression goes suddenly serious as he looks at Erik. "I think we both know how much you want to suck my cock."
Everything freezes. There's a hissing in Erik's head like radio static, the snow of an untuned TV. He breathes through it, resisting the urge to strike out, even though every piece of metal in the room is calling out to him.
"I don't know what you think you saw in my head," Erik says slowly, "but I'd be damned before I went down on my knees for you." For anybody.
The tone of his voice, low and intense, is one that's always intimidated the people he's used it with, but Charles looks not at all affected. He looks more curious, fascinated, than anything else.
"Well, first of all," Charles says, "that's an awfully restrictive view of the activity, I have to say. There are so many more options than that. But, really, Erik, you do know - there's nothing wrong with it, you know. Trust me, it's much more common than people would like you to believe. Yes, I know," he says, waving a dismissive hand at Erik when he attempts to interrupt, "you don't care what anybody thinks of you. Still."
Erik waits for a few seconds before asking, "Are you finished?"
Charles shrugs and says, "For now."
His arrogance, his sheer nerve, is astounding. Erik is not sure whether to be annoyed or to admire him. Everything about Charles that should repel him seems to do the opposite and Erik doesn't know why, and that fact alone is frustrating beyond belief, because Erik knows the reasons behind every action he takes.
"Fine," Erik says. "I'm going to get some sleep. I suggest you do the same."
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," Charles says, not sounding sorry at all. He stands up and crosses the room, stopping a few feet from Erik. "I just want you to know, when you change your mind - it's all right. Whenever you decide to kiss me."
"I'm not going to change my mind," Erik says through gritted teeth.
"All right," Charles says, and he smiles at Erik again before moving past into the bathroom and shutting the door behind himself.
Erik strips down to his shorts and climbs into the bed he's claimed, ignoring the faint sounds of running water. He rests his head against the pillow and closes his eyes, and starts his familiar ritual. Images in his head, memories of Schmidt and what he did, but also visions of what is yet to come, all the plans Erik has made and is going to see through - it's the same thing Erik has fallen asleep to for years. He's engrossed in it; he's concentrating so hard that he almost doesn't notice the noises of Charles exiting the bathroom, getting ready for asleep across the room.
Almost - but even now, astonishingly, some part of him is still centered on Charles's presence. Erik's focus is split, for the first time in his memory, and he doesn't understand it at all.
He's still mulling it over as he falls asleep.
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