ficlet: more victorian AU
1/11/12 20:19![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
schmericaHere is some 500 words of kinky not-quite-porn, set in the same Victorian AU as Marvels and Skeptics. Content notes for spanking/paddling.
*****
Charles lay atop the bedclothes, sprawled on his belly, his head resting on his folded arms. There was a sense of languor, of drowsy self-satisfaction that always came upon Charles after coitus, and which Erik held rather close to his heart. There was something utterly compelling about it, Charles's lazy body, exhausted by their mutual efforts. Erik couldn't help but admire the ruffled mess of Charles's hair, usually so neatly contained; the surprisingly broad expanse of his back, and the freckles between his shoulder blades; and of course, his tempting round arse - always a lovely sight, but how much more like this, with the contrast of the reddened marks of the paddle against Charles's milk-pale skin?
Erik sat down on the bed beside Charles. Charles turned his head to him and smiled, even as his eyes fluttered softly shut. Erik ran his hand slowly down Charles's backside, from the nape of his neck to the small of his back and finally down to his rear. The skin there was still hot to the touch, and though Erik was careful to be gentle, Charles let out a small sound, even as he arched up against the touch like a pleased housecat.
It was not the first time they had done this - with Erik's open hand, with a hairbrush, with a paddle - and yet it still surprised Erik, the clear enjoyment Charles received from the act. Erik, too, had been beaten often enough as a child, and he had often enough been in fights and brawls and other forms of violence during those years, but there was no erotic charge for him, either in the receiving of pain or in the inflicting. The first time, Erik had not thought he would enjoy it at all, in fact - but he had not prepared for the sight of Charles, braced against the footboard of the bed, losing himself in his own pleasure, even spending himself loudly against the dark wood without even a touch upon his prick. His pleasure in those moments was Erik's pleasure, too, for Charles couldn't help but share it all, too much to stay trapped alone in his own mind. Erik knew, exactly, how and when Charles came undone.
There was something thrilling about being able to be the one to give Charles what he desired, and what he needed; and, too, something fulfilling about knowing the exact depths of Charles's perversions and deviancy, the utter delicious dichotomy between the proper, innocent gentleman he was to the outside world and the mewling depraved creature he could become in their private moments. How heady, to know someone so well.
Erik leaned over, pressing a kiss to Charles's naked shoulder, and Charles sighed beneath him. "You're so good to me, love," Charles murmured. "Although..."
The combination of amusement and affection he felt for Charles, when for any other living thing it would surely be irritation - Erik didn't believe he would ever understand it. "Yes?"
"Perhaps next time, a whip?" Charles said, a cloud of hope following the words that Erik felt directly in his own mind.
Erik ran his fingers softly through Charles's hair. "Perhaps," he said.
*****
Charles lay atop the bedclothes, sprawled on his belly, his head resting on his folded arms. There was a sense of languor, of drowsy self-satisfaction that always came upon Charles after coitus, and which Erik held rather close to his heart. There was something utterly compelling about it, Charles's lazy body, exhausted by their mutual efforts. Erik couldn't help but admire the ruffled mess of Charles's hair, usually so neatly contained; the surprisingly broad expanse of his back, and the freckles between his shoulder blades; and of course, his tempting round arse - always a lovely sight, but how much more like this, with the contrast of the reddened marks of the paddle against Charles's milk-pale skin?
Erik sat down on the bed beside Charles. Charles turned his head to him and smiled, even as his eyes fluttered softly shut. Erik ran his hand slowly down Charles's backside, from the nape of his neck to the small of his back and finally down to his rear. The skin there was still hot to the touch, and though Erik was careful to be gentle, Charles let out a small sound, even as he arched up against the touch like a pleased housecat.
It was not the first time they had done this - with Erik's open hand, with a hairbrush, with a paddle - and yet it still surprised Erik, the clear enjoyment Charles received from the act. Erik, too, had been beaten often enough as a child, and he had often enough been in fights and brawls and other forms of violence during those years, but there was no erotic charge for him, either in the receiving of pain or in the inflicting. The first time, Erik had not thought he would enjoy it at all, in fact - but he had not prepared for the sight of Charles, braced against the footboard of the bed, losing himself in his own pleasure, even spending himself loudly against the dark wood without even a touch upon his prick. His pleasure in those moments was Erik's pleasure, too, for Charles couldn't help but share it all, too much to stay trapped alone in his own mind. Erik knew, exactly, how and when Charles came undone.
There was something thrilling about being able to be the one to give Charles what he desired, and what he needed; and, too, something fulfilling about knowing the exact depths of Charles's perversions and deviancy, the utter delicious dichotomy between the proper, innocent gentleman he was to the outside world and the mewling depraved creature he could become in their private moments. How heady, to know someone so well.
Erik leaned over, pressing a kiss to Charles's naked shoulder, and Charles sighed beneath him. "You're so good to me, love," Charles murmured. "Although..."
The combination of amusement and affection he felt for Charles, when for any other living thing it would surely be irritation - Erik didn't believe he would ever understand it. "Yes?"
"Perhaps next time, a whip?" Charles said, a cloud of hope following the words that Erik felt directly in his own mind.
Erik ran his fingers softly through Charles's hair. "Perhaps," he said.
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