Forgive Us Our Transgressions 8/16
That night, after the children had gone to bed, and the adults had finally followed, Erik knocked on Charles’ door. It was so like old times, opening the door to see Erik lounging there, a bottle of scotch and two tumblers in his hand. The chessboard, long since tucked away, had made a reappearance in the preceding two weeks, and for a moment, it was almost like the no time had passed.
If not for the chair he was confined to, the ever-present reminder of Erik’s actions that day on the beach, of his carelessness, of his betrayal.
“Night cap?” Erik asked, flashing Charles a confident smile as he held up the bottle in his hand.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Charles replied, trying to shake off the morose thoughts and enjoy the moment.
Erik was here, now, in his bedroom.
It was an opportunity he didn’t want to waste.
Erik strolled in, a confidence to his movements that Charles hadn’t seen since . The confusion of his illness, his memory loss, his presence in an unfamiliar house, all of it had served to strip Erik of his usual self-possession. The old Erik had commanded a room when he entered, the new Erik slipped in almost apologetically.
Charles had thought the change was due to the shift in his personality, the fact that he hadn’t spent the better part of his adult years hunting men down and making them pay.
But it seemed that all he needed was the assurance of a sexual sure-thing to get his confidence back. It radiated off of him in waves.
He sauntered into the room, placing the bottle and glasses down, not on the table in front of the fireplace, but on the small table beside the bed. He shot Charles a grin.
“Drink?” he asked, casually pouring.
“I think I’ll need one,” Charles admitted. He was feeling a bit out of his depths.
Erik had seemed like his old self the moment he walked into the room, but the illusion was shattered as he tilted his head, peering at Charles with concern. “Everything alright? You do want me here, don’t you?” His thoughts buzzed with concern, affection, desire.
“Of course, my friend,” Charles said, reassured by the emotions he felt from the other man. “It’s just been…a long time.”
“Has it?” Erik questioned, and Charles couldn’t miss the shift in this thoughts, the need to know what had come before pushing to the surface of his mind. Charles shook his head minutely; they weren’t questions he wanted to answer, not now. Shifting guiltily, he sent a wave of contentment over Erik’s mind, quelling the questions and returning his attention to the matter at hand.
Which, at the moment, were the glasses in his hands. “For you,” he offered, extending one. Instead of taking the glass Charles caught his wrist, rubbing lightly over the pulse point he found there.
He smiled as Erik’s breath caught.
Gently he took the glass, setting it down on the table beside him, and wheeled closer, shifting into Erik’s personal space.
The angle was awkward; seated, he was sure it looked almost like he was offering a blowjob before they had even gotten started. He craned his head back, lamenting the angle of his neck, and tried to meet Erik’s eyes. He had always had to tip his head up to do so, he reminded himself, memories of Erik looming over him, pressed close and filling the space around him, rushed into his mind.
“Charles,” Erik said, setting down his own glass and lowering himself to his knees. Charles smiled. The old Erik had loved the advantage his height gave him, taking every opportunity to assert his dominance. This new Erik seemed content with an even playing field.
The question was in Erik’s eyes and mind before he asked it, and Charles gave him a wan smile.
“How do we…?” The man asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Charles admitted.
Erik’s eyes widened. “Oh. So we haven’t been together since you-?”
“No.”
“Then, it’s more recent than I thought,” Erik said, puzzlement warring with desire as he stroked a hand down over Charles’ leg. Charles followed the movement with his eyes, wishing he could feel it in his flesh. Erik slid his hand down over Charles’ calf, loosely wrapping it Charles’ atrophied ankle, and just held him gently for a moment. Charles reached out, reading sympathy, but not pity.
Good.
He knew people pitied him-his friends especially, seeing his loss, physically and emotionally, seeing how hard it hit him. And yet, all he wanted was to be treated like before, like the Charles Xavier who could break into a Russian general’s home, who could immobilize CIA agents, track down international criminals, and save the world.
Now he was just a fusty professor in a wheelchair and a cardigan. Good with the children, but not good for much else.
He frowned. He knew that wasn’t fair; it was how the parents saw him, but not his colleagues, not the children. Not Erik.
But he was afraid it was how he saw himself, sometimes.
“Let’s just take it one step at a time, alright?” Erik asked, his voice pushing Charles’ thoughts aside. Charles nodded, closing his eyes and merely inhaling the scent of the other man as he leaned in.
Erik’s lips ghosted over his for a moment before pressing in, hot and soft, sliding against his own.
Charles thought he would never get tired of this, even when they were old men, when they had both gone gray or, even worse, bald, he would still want to kiss Erik every minute of every day.
He let his lips part invitingly and Erik took the bait, licking gently at his bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth, making Charles groan.
Yes. Erik’s mind sighed triumphantly.
A large hand came up to cradle Charles’ head, tangling in his hair and holding him in place, exerting force just the way Charles had always liked it.
He lapped at Erik’s mouth a little desperately, the fact that they were going to have sex suddenly all he could think about.
He wasn’t even sure of the mechanics, but he knew he’d do whatever it took to make it happen.
He yearned for Erik, he had for nearly three years, and now he was finally going to get to have him.
Erik’s hands came up to fumble at the buttons of his cardigan, his thoughts an amusing blur of curses for the buttons being plastic, untouchable with his power.
He managed to wrestle them free, though, and pushed the material aside, letting it bunch over Charles’ shoulders as he stroked his hands down his torso, petting over the smooth material of his shirt, as his mouth pressed insistently against Charles’. More plastic buttons, and then Erik had his hands on him, for the first time in so long, and Charles couldn’t help but groan as those perfect large hands stroked over his flesh, petting him gently.
Charles leaned into the touch, his pulse racing as Erik’s hands slid over his stomach. He blushed at the slight paunch that had formed over the years stuck in his infernal chair, but Erik didn’t even falter, just cupped his hands over Charles’ slightly wider waist and squeezed gently, making him gasp.
He reached out blindly, unwilling to pull away from the kiss for even a second, and found the hem of Erik’s turtleneck, bunching the fabric in his hands as he tugged insistently upward.
Erik chuckled into his mouth and then pulled back, and Charles whimpered even though it was at his behest.
But then Erik was stripping the fabric away, revealing a torso just as slim and muscular as the last time Charles had seen it, that last desperate night before everything changed.
Erik was so trim, his waist whittled down to nothing but hard muscle and sinew, and Charles couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He stroked down Erik’s front, one long touch, feeling the ridges of his muscles and the softness of his skin. Erik bit his lip as Charles skirted past a dusky pink nipple, and his stomach jumped as Charles dipped his finger into the indent of his navel.
Charles reached out, with his mind and his hands, and was gratified to find that Erik was thinking of nothing but his touch. His whole world seemed to have centred in on Charles and Charles basked in the attention.
“Charles,” Erik choked out, as his hands settled low on the other man’s waist, just above the line of his trousers. “Tell me how to do this.”
“You were always the expert, my friend,” Charles admitted; a half-truth. There had been times at Oxford, when Raven stayed home, and none of the auburn haired or green eyed or otherwise slightly-mutated girls at the pub caught his eye. When he couldn’t bring himself to play pretend, and put his hands on their rounded hips and feel the soft press of their full breasts against his chest.
And then he would go to a different sort of bar altogether, one that Raven didn’t even know existed, and soon he would find himself with a chest as flat as his own pressed against him, the rough burn of stubble on his chin, and hands far larger than his own exploring his body. He found out what it was like to tip his head up to a kiss, to be the one pressed back into a wall, into a bed.
And yet, Erik had always been so much more confident, even in the bedroom, and Charles had submitted to him with ease.
“I think, though, that the first step would be getting out of this chair.”
Erik’s eyes lit up, and he stood, smiling down at Charles fondly. “May I?” he asked, and for a second Charles didn’t know what he wanted, but then an image flashed into his mind, of Charles’ weight in his arms, and he reached up, allowing Erik a liberty that no one else got to take.
The man swept him up easily, despite the extra pounds his had gained in his sedentary lifestyle, despite the dead weight of his useless legs. Charles wrapped his arms around Erik’s neck and leaned in, mouthing the skin he found there.
“Charles,” Erik groaned, stumbling his way to the bed. He laid Charles down so gently, like he was made of glass.
“Erik, you don’t have to be so careful with me,” Charles told him with a smile, beckoning him down. He remembered how rough the other man could be when he was in a certain mood, when Charles got him worked up just right. He would just take what he wanted, hold Charles down and have his way with him, growling low in his throat and leaving Charles marked and exhausted.
But.
“I want to be,” Erik whispered softly, lying down at Charles side, his touch tender.
“Oh.” Charles searched Erik’s thoughts and found it was entirely true. Lust thrummed through him, but it was woven through with affection, tenderness and care. An image flashed into Charles’ mind, and his breath caught. Erik wanted to treat him like he did his metals, bending and shaping them with infinite care, patience and precision.
The old Erik thought of metal as nothing but a weapon, something to be controlled, used.
This Erik thought of it as an old friend.
Charles shifted on the bed, curling into Erik as best he could, and trying to forget what had come before.
Comparing the Erik he knew with the Erik he was with now wouldn’t get them anywhere.
And if he longed for a slightly rougher touch, he had to admit that this felt good, too. Erik stroked down his side, the curve of his hip, and gripped him there, thumbing at the skin just above his trousers.
“You can’t feel your legs at all?”
“No,” Charles confirmed.
“But you can-?”
Charles had to smile at Erik’s shyness, his hesitance. “It’s never stopped me when I’m alone,” he said, flashing the other man his best cheeky grin.
Gratifyingly, Erik’s eyes darkened. “Now there’s a mental image,” he said, his voice gone rough. He dropped his hand to the button on Charles’ trousers, hesitating over it. “May I?”
“I insist.”
Erik shot him a grin as he thumbed the button open, using his powers to drag the zipper down as he did so. Charles had always loved watching Erik use his mutation, the casual ease with which he manipulated the world around him. Charles’ power was vast-terrifying to some-but it was mostly internal, and he loved the outward show of dominance over the laws of nature that comprised Erik’s power.
Zipper down, Erik pushed at the fabric, guiding it down over his hips. Charles wanted to arch, to lift up to let Erik slide his trousers off with ease, to show his eagerness. But all he could do was lie there, and watch as Erik struggled to maneuver the fabric off of his body. He frowned, his displeasure threatening to obscure the wonder that was watching Erik strip him.
He refused to let it, though; he was determined to enjoy every second of this.
He knew what it was like to go without, to long for Erik and not be able to have him. Now that the man was here, in his bed, he was going to make the most of it.
Charles was half-hard just from anticipation, and he grew harder as Erik groaned at the sight.
“Oh, Charles,” he said, resting his forehead against Charles’ chest for a moment. “I don’t remember, but I’m certain I missed this. I must have.”
Later, Charles would wonder if that was true, if Erik had longed for him the way Charles had pined for Erik. But right now he just stroked Erik’s hair out of his face, cupping his hand around the back of his neck, demanding.
Erik tipped his head up and grinned, a quick flash of teeth, as he crawled up Charles’ body, bearing him back to the pillows. Their lips met, wet and heated, as Erik reached down, smoothly spreading Charles’ legs.
He sighed into the other man’s mouth, only wishing he could feel it, the touch of Erik’s strong hands on his thighs, pushing them apart, forcing his way in between them.
But he could feel the cant of Erik’s hips against his own, the feel of Erik’s arousal even through the trousers he still wore.
“Not fair, my friend,” Charles panted against his mouth. “You have me at a disadvantage.”
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Erik laughed, lifting his hips up only enough to get a hand between them, shoving the fabric down and out of the way.
And then he was dropping his full weight on Charles, pressing him into the bed, surrounding him with his flesh, his scent, his touch.
Charles arched as best he could, wriggling his torso to urge Erik closer.
“Please,” he said, and reached out, pushing lustheatwant at Erik, making him groan and pant with the force of Charles’ desire.
“You can feel this?” Erik asked, reaching a hand between them to touch Charles, pressing in between his legs to feel him there.
“Yes,” Charles moaned.
“And this?” Erik asked, and he was slipping inside, just dipping in to make Charles feel the stretch, the pleasant burn.
“Yes.”
In the bathroom, Charles projected, thinking very hard about a certain tube, hidden in the back of one of the drawers.
“What?” Erik mumbled, his gaze focused down between their bodies. “Oh. Oh, yes.”
And then he was scrambling up, and Charles was treated to a sight he thought he’d never tire of; the play of muscles beneath Erik’s smooth flesh as he walked away, into the bathroom, the clench of his tight ass as he moved.
“God,” Charles groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillows.
And then Erik was back, smiling down at him lasciviously as he dropped the lube to the pillow beside them.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“I’ve been ready for years,” Charles answered truthfully, and then Erik’s hand was back, slick and circling his entrance, dipping inside and driving him mad with want.
“Please, please,” he begged as Erik prepared him, gently but insistently, his fingers never ceasing their busy activity between Charles’ legs.
And then he was rolling on top of him, bracing Charles’ legs wide, and pressing in, in, inexorably in, until Charles thought he should feel it at the back of his throat.
“Oh, Charles,” Erik groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, and the rush of love that pulsed out at him was almost overwhelming.
Charles clutched at him, his hands skidding over the slick flesh of Erik’s back, sliding in the sweat that beaded there as Erik moved over him. He threw his head back and let himself get lost in the sensation, in the feel of Erik’s body after all this time.
ErikErikErik, he chanted, unsure of whether he was forming the words in his throat or his mind, knowing it didn’t matter. Erik panted in his ear, and reached to twine the fingers of one hand with Charles’.
Charles squeezed down on the touch and let himself go, shuddering under Erik and crying out.
“Oh,” Erik breathed, rearing up to watch him fall apart, and then he was wrenching Charles’ legs up, over his arms as he rocked back on his heels, pulsing into him until his face screwed up and he bit his lip, and came with a full-body shiver.
“Charles,” he breathed, collapsing down beside him. “Why would we ever stop doing that?”
“I don’t know, my friend,” he replied. And in that moment, staring into Erik’s blue eyes, he truly didn’t.
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END PART ONE
Part Two