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schmericaQuick Study
by Pearl-o
X-men: First Class, Charles/Erik, R, ~1000 words. Road trip fic.
Thanks as always topocky_slash.
Summary: It wasn't a brag or boast when Charles said he knew everything about Erik, so he's surprised by how much more there is to learn.
*****
That first night, outside the CIA compound, Charles had told Erik that he knew everything about him. It was not a brag or a boast; it had been a true statement, for all intents and purposes. That's why it surprises Charles, after all, just how many new things he manages to learn about Erik within the first week of their recruitment mission.
First, Erik likes to drive. Scratch that; he has to drive. Charles is permanently relegated to the passenger seat, any offers to switch off after long hours of highway dismissed without a moment of consideration. Charles has quite a bit of time to stare out the window at the passing landscape, which leads indirectly to another of his discoveries about Erik. For, as it turns out, Charles has a habit of playing absently with the things in his pocket when he's not paying attention, and one item that is consistently in his pockets happens to be a metal lighter. The more he fondles it, the crankier Erik grows, until he snaps at Charles outright.
(The first time is unintentional; the next few, more of an experiment.)
Another fact about Erik: he has a sweet tooth. He orders dessert always, taking more obvious pleasure in his cakes or pies than in savory dishes. He drinks his coffee black but heavily sugared. He doesn't buy candy, but if Charles does, leaving a bag of butterscotches open in the car or hotel room, Erik will eat them all.
Erik takes things from all of the hotels or motels they stay in: soaps, shampoos, notepads or matchboxes. They're there, and they might be of use someday. There's a thrift and fear of scarcity built into him that Charles doesn't believe Erik is even fully aware of.
He has nightmares - that, Charles had known before, from the moment they met. What he hadn't known was that the nightmares are successfully staved off, four nights out of five, when Erik sleeps with a bedmate. It would have been impossible to Charles to know, really, when Erik is discovering it for the first time himself.
He falls asleep after Charles and wakes up before him. Every morning Charles wakes to the sight of Erik, sitting in his bathrobe at whatever small desk or table the hotel has provided, reading the newspaper, front to back. He only dresses at the last moment before they go out; Charles has grown used to the sight of his collarbone, the oddly fetching naked legs, the inked skin of his forearm he covers up every day before they meet the world.
If Charles asks him what he does for fun, Erik will respond with nothing more than a blank look, but get him talking, and he'll admit his love for chess, all the reading he does, the satisfaction he gets from pushing himself farther and farther in a run, until there is nothing but the effort and the strain and the victory.
Charles's favorite surprise is this: how much Erik loves to kiss. For hours, curled around each other in bed, his strong hands framing Charles's face and holding him still while they kiss, and kiss, every tiny tender or purposeful bit belying whatever pretense of casualness that Charles can still hear Erik trying to convince himself he possesses.
Erik has a gorgeous cock, larger than any Charles has been intimate with before, and sometimes in the middle of the day Charles will look over toward Erik and remember, out of nowhere, sudden and overwhelming, the sensation of being on his knees, taking Erik in and worshipping him with his mouth and tongue, full almost to choking and feeling Erik's pleasure as his own, an infinite link back and forth between them. Even more than a blowjob, though, Erik likes the weight of Charles on top of him, pushing him down, rocking their bodies back and forth against each other, still kissing when Charles's hand finally brings him off between their bellies.
Something else about Erik: he smokes, too, but only post-coitally. While Charles is still a sprawled mess, incoherent and gasping in the aftermath of his orgasm, Erik has already regained his composure, sitting up against the pillows and using his ability to float Charles's silver cigarette case and lighter from across the room. He'll light two cigarettes together, one for himself and one for Charles, and Charles will prop himself up on his elbows as he accepts it, closing his eyes as he takes a drag, breathing in the smoke with the same comfort he takes in the brief, quiet serenity of Erik's mind before the real world intrudes upon his thoughts once again.
Raven has made comments, in the past, halfway between joking and sincerely scathing, about Charles's short attention span. As much as he truly likes people, he gets bored easily, she says, moving on to the next one, and the next one after that, constantly needing variety. There's some truth in it, maybe, Charles can admit, but it's understandable, when he knows so much about people, so much more than they can ever know about him.
With Erik - with Erik, there's something different, he thinks. There's something about Erik that's deep and still and yet ever-changing, something fascinating, no matter how much Charles knows or how much he learns, how familiar they get. He attempts to imagine getting bored of Erik, and it's a picture that won't come, hard as he might try.
There are implications to that Charles should look at rather more closely, possibly, but they can wait. For now he and Erik have a common purpose, a goal to work toward together - and if that process is more enjoyable than Charles was expecting, well. There's nothing wrong with that.
by Pearl-o
X-men: First Class, Charles/Erik, R, ~1000 words. Road trip fic.
Thanks as always to
pocky_slash.Summary: It wasn't a brag or boast when Charles said he knew everything about Erik, so he's surprised by how much more there is to learn.
*****
That first night, outside the CIA compound, Charles had told Erik that he knew everything about him. It was not a brag or a boast; it had been a true statement, for all intents and purposes. That's why it surprises Charles, after all, just how many new things he manages to learn about Erik within the first week of their recruitment mission.
First, Erik likes to drive. Scratch that; he has to drive. Charles is permanently relegated to the passenger seat, any offers to switch off after long hours of highway dismissed without a moment of consideration. Charles has quite a bit of time to stare out the window at the passing landscape, which leads indirectly to another of his discoveries about Erik. For, as it turns out, Charles has a habit of playing absently with the things in his pocket when he's not paying attention, and one item that is consistently in his pockets happens to be a metal lighter. The more he fondles it, the crankier Erik grows, until he snaps at Charles outright.
(The first time is unintentional; the next few, more of an experiment.)
Another fact about Erik: he has a sweet tooth. He orders dessert always, taking more obvious pleasure in his cakes or pies than in savory dishes. He drinks his coffee black but heavily sugared. He doesn't buy candy, but if Charles does, leaving a bag of butterscotches open in the car or hotel room, Erik will eat them all.
Erik takes things from all of the hotels or motels they stay in: soaps, shampoos, notepads or matchboxes. They're there, and they might be of use someday. There's a thrift and fear of scarcity built into him that Charles doesn't believe Erik is even fully aware of.
He has nightmares - that, Charles had known before, from the moment they met. What he hadn't known was that the nightmares are successfully staved off, four nights out of five, when Erik sleeps with a bedmate. It would have been impossible to Charles to know, really, when Erik is discovering it for the first time himself.
He falls asleep after Charles and wakes up before him. Every morning Charles wakes to the sight of Erik, sitting in his bathrobe at whatever small desk or table the hotel has provided, reading the newspaper, front to back. He only dresses at the last moment before they go out; Charles has grown used to the sight of his collarbone, the oddly fetching naked legs, the inked skin of his forearm he covers up every day before they meet the world.
If Charles asks him what he does for fun, Erik will respond with nothing more than a blank look, but get him talking, and he'll admit his love for chess, all the reading he does, the satisfaction he gets from pushing himself farther and farther in a run, until there is nothing but the effort and the strain and the victory.
Charles's favorite surprise is this: how much Erik loves to kiss. For hours, curled around each other in bed, his strong hands framing Charles's face and holding him still while they kiss, and kiss, every tiny tender or purposeful bit belying whatever pretense of casualness that Charles can still hear Erik trying to convince himself he possesses.
Erik has a gorgeous cock, larger than any Charles has been intimate with before, and sometimes in the middle of the day Charles will look over toward Erik and remember, out of nowhere, sudden and overwhelming, the sensation of being on his knees, taking Erik in and worshipping him with his mouth and tongue, full almost to choking and feeling Erik's pleasure as his own, an infinite link back and forth between them. Even more than a blowjob, though, Erik likes the weight of Charles on top of him, pushing him down, rocking their bodies back and forth against each other, still kissing when Charles's hand finally brings him off between their bellies.
Something else about Erik: he smokes, too, but only post-coitally. While Charles is still a sprawled mess, incoherent and gasping in the aftermath of his orgasm, Erik has already regained his composure, sitting up against the pillows and using his ability to float Charles's silver cigarette case and lighter from across the room. He'll light two cigarettes together, one for himself and one for Charles, and Charles will prop himself up on his elbows as he accepts it, closing his eyes as he takes a drag, breathing in the smoke with the same comfort he takes in the brief, quiet serenity of Erik's mind before the real world intrudes upon his thoughts once again.
Raven has made comments, in the past, halfway between joking and sincerely scathing, about Charles's short attention span. As much as he truly likes people, he gets bored easily, she says, moving on to the next one, and the next one after that, constantly needing variety. There's some truth in it, maybe, Charles can admit, but it's understandable, when he knows so much about people, so much more than they can ever know about him.
With Erik - with Erik, there's something different, he thinks. There's something about Erik that's deep and still and yet ever-changing, something fascinating, no matter how much Charles knows or how much he learns, how familiar they get. He attempts to imagine getting bored of Erik, and it's a picture that won't come, hard as he might try.
There are implications to that Charles should look at rather more closely, possibly, but they can wait. For now he and Erik have a common purpose, a goal to work toward together - and if that process is more enjoyable than Charles was expecting, well. There's nothing wrong with that.
Tags:
(no subject)
19/2/13 19:41 (UTC)(no subject)
20/2/13 04:34 (UTC)(no subject)
25/2/13 04:35 (UTC)Also, fuck, this is really gorgeous, Pearl. I've been so out of touch with XMFC to the point where you're pretty much the only person I still read from that fandom, and it's great, because everything is just that much more amazing when measured out. Sensuous and lovely and asjkhdf never stop.
(no subject)
26/2/13 05:17 (UTC)