ficlet: work it out (xmfc, erik/moira)
Here, have ~1200 words of canonverse Erik/Moira fic. You know, in case you like that sort of thing.
*****
The first time was after Russia, after the facility had been destroyed. The first night in Charles Xavier's ridiculous mansion.
Moira had known about it already, of course. The CIA did extensive research on every person involved in this project, and she read all of the files front to back multiple times, until she knew each of them in her sleep. She probably has a better idea of the state of Charles's holdings and finances than he himself does, down to the last penny of every bank account he has.
She didn't fail to notice the surprise the others felt upon arriving, though. The excitement of everyone at Charles's easy pronouncement of his property as belonging to all of them - easy, and barely thought-through, Moira suspected. Charles's dreams for his generation of mutants were one of the things that make him such a good ally in this fight, but she was well aware he was playing a longer game here as well. That was fine. Moira genuinely liked Charles, and most of the rest of the team, for that matter. She wanted the best for them, after all.
She didn't forget, though, the reason why was she was here: she was a representative of the CIA, and she had a mission and a duty to take care of. That would always be her top priority.
She rather suspected Charles forgot that sometimes, which struck her as odd, given his abilities.
Erik never forgot, of course. Erik never made any sign of considering her a friend, which was just as well, because Moira didn't trust him, either.
Moira was still unpacking in her newly assigned room when he came to her. She had left the door open, but he closed it behind him as he entered - not touching the door, but merely a wave of his hand.
She looked over from where she was hanging dresses in the armoire to give him a curious glance. She spared a second to wonder how he had found her so easily, but only a second; there was metal in the jewelry she wear, in her brassiere, even the heels of her shoes. She had already seen how far Erik's abilities could go.
"Do you want something?" she said.
Erik leaned back against the door, folding his arms across his chest. "Obviously," he said, the tone of his voice suggesting he considered the question to be rather stupid.
Moira didn't rise to the bait. She turned back to the armoire. "What is it?"
A short pause, then Erik said, "Are you sleeping with Charles?"
Asked from nearly anyone else, Moira was fairly certain the question would have pissed her off completely. Anyone from the company, certainly. She had faced enough questions, accusations, and sly digs at her sex life by this point in her career to last a dozen lifetimes. Oddly, though, right now it simply made her want to roll her eyes.
"No, Erik," Moira said, letting the same amount of derision fill her voice as Erik had aimed at her a minute before, "I am not sleeping with Charles."
She finished hanging the last of her dresses, and closed the dresser, turning to face him. Erik was still lounging against the door, but the pose looked false on him. As if he had studied it somewhere and was trying to apply it on his own - This is how one lounges. This is how one looks relaxed and unconcerned - without realizing all of his tension and purposefulness shone through nonetheless.
"If you haven't noticed," Moira continued, "Charles is an incorrigable flirt. None of it means anything."
There was a flicker of something in Erik's eye, quick enough that Moira half-doubted that she had noticed it before it was gone. Erik straightened his posture a little. "I had come to the same conclusion," he said, "but I thought it was wise to make certain before I proceeded."
"Stop talking around your subject and get out with it, Erik," Moira said. She sat down on the edge of the bed, next to her almost empty bag - only her stockings and undergarments left to put away - and waited.
Erik took a step away from the door, towards the bed, and then another. "I expect you must be frustrated after our failed mission in the USSR, and after the invasion of the facility. Angry, too. Perhaps I am even one of the targets of your anger."
"I had the impression that you could care less of my thoughts on your behavior," Moira said, raising an eyebrow.
Erik smiled - or, at least, he turned up the corner of his lips in evident amusement. There was still a chilliness to his eyes, one that Moira had never really seen gone away. "I am frustrated and angry at recent events as well. I thought we could work out some of those frustrations together."
She should have said no. Thinking back, she was not entirely certain why she didn't say no. Maybe it was because it had been so long for her - years, since before she joined the company. When she was still with Joe, before she had gathered her strength enough to walk out and start over from scratch.
Maybe it was because she didn't trust Erik. Maybe because knowing exactly what it was between them, and that it would never be anything else, made it safe. Maybe it was just that Erik was unfairly attractive. Maybe it was something else entirely.
Either way, what she said was, "Fine."
They didn't make it to the bed. Erik took her up against the wall, next to the armoire, which squeaked against the wall every time Erik slammed her back with a thrust, the only sound in the room besides their heavy breathing and the slick movement of their bodies. Erik held her up by her hips and her ass, like her weight was nothing to him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her hands around his neck, scratching her fingernails across his upper back in encouragement whenever he did something particularly good.
She didn't realize how much blood she had drawn until afterwards, when they were separated again into their separate selves, and she watched Erik getting dressed, the muscles of his back stretching as he pulled his turtleneck over his head. The marks looked vicious, red and angry against his skin, and more plentiful than she remembered.
She didn't apologize for them; they gave her an odd feeling of satisfaction.
Erik smirked at her when he caught her looking. "I suspected you had claws, you know," he said, in a completely casual tone. It caught her completely by surprise when he took a step forward again and caught her in a brief kiss, before pulling away again. "I hope we can do that again sometime," he suggested.
"You should be so lucky," Moira told him, and he chuckled, looking pleased at the response.
Still, when he came back the next night she let him go down on her on the dresser, and the night after that they made it to the bed.
This entry was originally posted at http://schmerica.dreamwidth.org/1273226.html. Feel free to comment there.
*****
The first time was after Russia, after the facility had been destroyed. The first night in Charles Xavier's ridiculous mansion.
Moira had known about it already, of course. The CIA did extensive research on every person involved in this project, and she read all of the files front to back multiple times, until she knew each of them in her sleep. She probably has a better idea of the state of Charles's holdings and finances than he himself does, down to the last penny of every bank account he has.
She didn't fail to notice the surprise the others felt upon arriving, though. The excitement of everyone at Charles's easy pronouncement of his property as belonging to all of them - easy, and barely thought-through, Moira suspected. Charles's dreams for his generation of mutants were one of the things that make him such a good ally in this fight, but she was well aware he was playing a longer game here as well. That was fine. Moira genuinely liked Charles, and most of the rest of the team, for that matter. She wanted the best for them, after all.
She didn't forget, though, the reason why was she was here: she was a representative of the CIA, and she had a mission and a duty to take care of. That would always be her top priority.
She rather suspected Charles forgot that sometimes, which struck her as odd, given his abilities.
Erik never forgot, of course. Erik never made any sign of considering her a friend, which was just as well, because Moira didn't trust him, either.
Moira was still unpacking in her newly assigned room when he came to her. She had left the door open, but he closed it behind him as he entered - not touching the door, but merely a wave of his hand.
She looked over from where she was hanging dresses in the armoire to give him a curious glance. She spared a second to wonder how he had found her so easily, but only a second; there was metal in the jewelry she wear, in her brassiere, even the heels of her shoes. She had already seen how far Erik's abilities could go.
"Do you want something?" she said.
Erik leaned back against the door, folding his arms across his chest. "Obviously," he said, the tone of his voice suggesting he considered the question to be rather stupid.
Moira didn't rise to the bait. She turned back to the armoire. "What is it?"
A short pause, then Erik said, "Are you sleeping with Charles?"
Asked from nearly anyone else, Moira was fairly certain the question would have pissed her off completely. Anyone from the company, certainly. She had faced enough questions, accusations, and sly digs at her sex life by this point in her career to last a dozen lifetimes. Oddly, though, right now it simply made her want to roll her eyes.
"No, Erik," Moira said, letting the same amount of derision fill her voice as Erik had aimed at her a minute before, "I am not sleeping with Charles."
She finished hanging the last of her dresses, and closed the dresser, turning to face him. Erik was still lounging against the door, but the pose looked false on him. As if he had studied it somewhere and was trying to apply it on his own - This is how one lounges. This is how one looks relaxed and unconcerned - without realizing all of his tension and purposefulness shone through nonetheless.
"If you haven't noticed," Moira continued, "Charles is an incorrigable flirt. None of it means anything."
There was a flicker of something in Erik's eye, quick enough that Moira half-doubted that she had noticed it before it was gone. Erik straightened his posture a little. "I had come to the same conclusion," he said, "but I thought it was wise to make certain before I proceeded."
"Stop talking around your subject and get out with it, Erik," Moira said. She sat down on the edge of the bed, next to her almost empty bag - only her stockings and undergarments left to put away - and waited.
Erik took a step away from the door, towards the bed, and then another. "I expect you must be frustrated after our failed mission in the USSR, and after the invasion of the facility. Angry, too. Perhaps I am even one of the targets of your anger."
"I had the impression that you could care less of my thoughts on your behavior," Moira said, raising an eyebrow.
Erik smiled - or, at least, he turned up the corner of his lips in evident amusement. There was still a chilliness to his eyes, one that Moira had never really seen gone away. "I am frustrated and angry at recent events as well. I thought we could work out some of those frustrations together."
She should have said no. Thinking back, she was not entirely certain why she didn't say no. Maybe it was because it had been so long for her - years, since before she joined the company. When she was still with Joe, before she had gathered her strength enough to walk out and start over from scratch.
Maybe it was because she didn't trust Erik. Maybe because knowing exactly what it was between them, and that it would never be anything else, made it safe. Maybe it was just that Erik was unfairly attractive. Maybe it was something else entirely.
Either way, what she said was, "Fine."
They didn't make it to the bed. Erik took her up against the wall, next to the armoire, which squeaked against the wall every time Erik slammed her back with a thrust, the only sound in the room besides their heavy breathing and the slick movement of their bodies. Erik held her up by her hips and her ass, like her weight was nothing to him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her hands around his neck, scratching her fingernails across his upper back in encouragement whenever he did something particularly good.
She didn't realize how much blood she had drawn until afterwards, when they were separated again into their separate selves, and she watched Erik getting dressed, the muscles of his back stretching as he pulled his turtleneck over his head. The marks looked vicious, red and angry against his skin, and more plentiful than she remembered.
She didn't apologize for them; they gave her an odd feeling of satisfaction.
Erik smirked at her when he caught her looking. "I suspected you had claws, you know," he said, in a completely casual tone. It caught her completely by surprise when he took a step forward again and caught her in a brief kiss, before pulling away again. "I hope we can do that again sometime," he suggested.
"You should be so lucky," Moira told him, and he chuckled, looking pleased at the response.
Still, when he came back the next night she let him go down on her on the dresser, and the night after that they made it to the bed.
This entry was originally posted at http://schmerica.dreamwidth.org/1273226.html. Feel free to comment there.