fic: it's me following you (xmfc, charles/erik)
It's me following you
by Pearl-o
X-men: First Class. Charles/Erik, NC-17, ~800 words. Filthy consensual mind control porn with complicated power dynamics.
Summary: Like all of this, it's not something Erik would ever have thought of himself.
*****
It's an odd feeling, but not an unpleasant one, this compulsion like an itch in the back of Erik's mind. His hands tighten around the locks of Charles's unruly hair and it's not him who makes the decision to yank, pull it harsh and sharp, but still, it's his pleasure, too, when Charles moans so-happily around his cock.
Erik's jacket is discarded across the bed, but otherwise he is fully dressed, shirt buttoned up to his collar, shoes and socks still in place. Only the fly of his trousers is undone, where Charles has freed his penis and taken it out to begin to suck. Charles himself is nude, kneeling on the floor. The contrast is bold, and it paints itself again in Erik's head every time he looks down.
He watches his hands pull Charles's head slowly away. The air in the room feels cool on his cock after the warmth of Charles's mouth. He can't look away from that mouth now, so red and shiny, spit hanging obscenely in the corner of Charles's open lips.
Charles's breaths come in gasps, and Erik does not feel much more steady.
He takes himself in hand. Charles's eyes flicker from Erik's cock to his face and back again, and then he licks his lips - and the way that makes Erik's arousal spike is pure and direct, not filtered at all through the immensity of Charles's powers. He shakes a little, then, even as Charles's suggestion guides his hand through the rest of the action, nudging his cock against the skin of Charles's cheek. Too light to be a slap, too intent to be anything else; one side, and then the other, and Charles's mouth follows him eagerly, trying to catch the head and take it back inside.
Like all of this, it's not something Erik would ever have thought of himself.
Charles's voice had been quavering ever so slightly, as close to shy as Erik had ever seen him, one hand up to his forehead as he shared his fantasy with Erik and said, "Would you..."
"Make me," Erik had said, and he watched the surprise on Charles's face slowly turn to a fascinated delight.
There's something unreal about it. Erik is the one doing all of this, and part of it still feels like his own decisions, however much he knows Charles is in control. Charles could make him think it was all his own doing, Erik knows - that itch in Erik's skull is there as a reminder, a constant to hold on to, placed there purposefully by Charles - but that, of course, would defeat the point entirely.
"I feel almost like a puppet. Or a doll, perhaps," Erik murmurs, looking down at where he's still rubbing the head of his cock against Charles's slack lips.
Are you still all right? Charles's mental voice asks. There's a bright tendril of concern, but beyond it Erik can feel, amazingly strongly, the intensity of Charles's arousal.
"No, no," Erik says, "this is fine. It's good. Keep going."
Charles does keep going, using Erik's hands to guide himself back to his eager sucking.
Charles's orgasm comes first, at a particularly fervent thrust of Erik's hips, and his astonishment rings through Erik's mind almost as strongly as his pleasure; he's never come like that before, without a single touch to his own cock.
How brilliant, Charles thinks.
Part of Erik wants almost to laugh out loud, but his own orgasm is approaching, too fast, too hard, and he doesn't know if this is another part of Charles's powers, pushing whatever pleasure centers exist in Erik's brain to the utmost, or if it's completely outside their mutations, the sex they have that is so good it hurts. At the moments when it's happening, he's not inclined to care.
He kneels down immediately - his own actions now again, completely, Charles's hold gone again back into his own mind - and pulls Charles's head in close, kissing him hard. His lips are still sticky with Erik's come. They kiss for a long time before Erik pulls away.
"Was that it? What you wanted?"
"Mm, yes," Charles says. He's wearing a smile that makes Erik think of the Cheshire cat, self-satisfied and privately pleased. "Thank you."
Erik frowns. "Don't thank me. Don't ever thank me."
Charles makes a noncommittal noise, and he kisses Erik once more before rising to his feet. He's still nude, semen splattered across his chest and stomach, and Erik doesn't look away from the pale expanse of his back and ass as he walks across the room to the bathroom. He disappears through the doorway, and after a few seconds Erik hears the shower start.
Erik himself stays on his knees for a while longer.
This entry was originally posted at http://schmerica.dreamwidth.org/1264729.html. Feel free to comment there.
by Pearl-o
X-men: First Class. Charles/Erik, NC-17, ~800 words. Filthy consensual mind control porn with complicated power dynamics.
Summary: Like all of this, it's not something Erik would ever have thought of himself.
*****
It's an odd feeling, but not an unpleasant one, this compulsion like an itch in the back of Erik's mind. His hands tighten around the locks of Charles's unruly hair and it's not him who makes the decision to yank, pull it harsh and sharp, but still, it's his pleasure, too, when Charles moans so-happily around his cock.
Erik's jacket is discarded across the bed, but otherwise he is fully dressed, shirt buttoned up to his collar, shoes and socks still in place. Only the fly of his trousers is undone, where Charles has freed his penis and taken it out to begin to suck. Charles himself is nude, kneeling on the floor. The contrast is bold, and it paints itself again in Erik's head every time he looks down.
He watches his hands pull Charles's head slowly away. The air in the room feels cool on his cock after the warmth of Charles's mouth. He can't look away from that mouth now, so red and shiny, spit hanging obscenely in the corner of Charles's open lips.
Charles's breaths come in gasps, and Erik does not feel much more steady.
He takes himself in hand. Charles's eyes flicker from Erik's cock to his face and back again, and then he licks his lips - and the way that makes Erik's arousal spike is pure and direct, not filtered at all through the immensity of Charles's powers. He shakes a little, then, even as Charles's suggestion guides his hand through the rest of the action, nudging his cock against the skin of Charles's cheek. Too light to be a slap, too intent to be anything else; one side, and then the other, and Charles's mouth follows him eagerly, trying to catch the head and take it back inside.
Like all of this, it's not something Erik would ever have thought of himself.
Charles's voice had been quavering ever so slightly, as close to shy as Erik had ever seen him, one hand up to his forehead as he shared his fantasy with Erik and said, "Would you..."
"Make me," Erik had said, and he watched the surprise on Charles's face slowly turn to a fascinated delight.
There's something unreal about it. Erik is the one doing all of this, and part of it still feels like his own decisions, however much he knows Charles is in control. Charles could make him think it was all his own doing, Erik knows - that itch in Erik's skull is there as a reminder, a constant to hold on to, placed there purposefully by Charles - but that, of course, would defeat the point entirely.
"I feel almost like a puppet. Or a doll, perhaps," Erik murmurs, looking down at where he's still rubbing the head of his cock against Charles's slack lips.
Are you still all right? Charles's mental voice asks. There's a bright tendril of concern, but beyond it Erik can feel, amazingly strongly, the intensity of Charles's arousal.
"No, no," Erik says, "this is fine. It's good. Keep going."
Charles does keep going, using Erik's hands to guide himself back to his eager sucking.
Charles's orgasm comes first, at a particularly fervent thrust of Erik's hips, and his astonishment rings through Erik's mind almost as strongly as his pleasure; he's never come like that before, without a single touch to his own cock.
How brilliant, Charles thinks.
Part of Erik wants almost to laugh out loud, but his own orgasm is approaching, too fast, too hard, and he doesn't know if this is another part of Charles's powers, pushing whatever pleasure centers exist in Erik's brain to the utmost, or if it's completely outside their mutations, the sex they have that is so good it hurts. At the moments when it's happening, he's not inclined to care.
He kneels down immediately - his own actions now again, completely, Charles's hold gone again back into his own mind - and pulls Charles's head in close, kissing him hard. His lips are still sticky with Erik's come. They kiss for a long time before Erik pulls away.
"Was that it? What you wanted?"
"Mm, yes," Charles says. He's wearing a smile that makes Erik think of the Cheshire cat, self-satisfied and privately pleased. "Thank you."
Erik frowns. "Don't thank me. Don't ever thank me."
Charles makes a noncommittal noise, and he kisses Erik once more before rising to his feet. He's still nude, semen splattered across his chest and stomach, and Erik doesn't look away from the pale expanse of his back and ass as he walks across the room to the bathroom. He disappears through the doorway, and after a few seconds Erik hears the shower start.
Erik himself stays on his knees for a while longer.
This entry was originally posted at http://schmerica.dreamwidth.org/1264729.html. Feel free to comment there.