[X-Men: First Class] Disassemble
Disassemble
Charles/Erik | R, 2575 words
Woah, um, hi there guys. I haven't posted here in months, though I've been writing (various things), and um. New fandom! Don't know if any of you care! But I figured, too bad, my comm, I do what I waaaant ;)
Elation, awe, disbelief, fear, excitement --
-- all these things and more and stronger and deeper, every time Erik uses his power just one step further than he's done before, just one step further than he could have ever dreamed possible.
Charles silently lets the emotions wash over him, forgetting, in a momentary lapse of character, to ask permission, but Erik doesn't seem to notice or mind, too caught up in just feeling to realise he's sharing the experience in its entirety.
Erik spins around, letting hundreds of pieces of metal fall to the ground, grinning at Charles. Charles can't quite choose where to look. The metal scattered over the floor hardly looks like the car he knows it once was, save for the large, tell-tale sheets of dinted, glossy red that made up the exterior. As for the rest: indistinguishable.
"I'm not sure," Erik is saying, and Charles drags his eyes back up to look at him, probably showing every bit of his own amazement on his face right now, "I'm not sure I could put it back together though." Erik laughs. "I wasn't really paying attention to the... architecture, as it were."
"No, no, of course not," Charles finds himself saying, still distracted at what he's just witnessed, still distracted by those emotions -- all-encompassing and heavy, yet somehow conflictingly light and carefree. "I wouldn't expect you to, my friend," he finishes, as if it's somehow important that Erik not think Charles has higher expectations still. Charles knows he doesn't think anything of the sort, not right now. Just those five emotions at their strongest and every other little sub-emotion that tags along with them, hand in hand.
Erik turns his attention back to the heap of metal and spreads the pieces out experimentally, so that no part touches another. "It's probably best that half the interior was gone before we started," he says. "There's so much here."
The excitement is bubbling over now, and Charles can see it tugging at the corners of Erik's lips even without the mental connection. He pulls out of Erik's mind then, a belated fix for his lapse of judgement, but he does it so abruptly that Erik's features pull into a slight frown.
"I- I'm sorry," Charles stutters, holding his hands up, palms out, in front of him. "I was sort of just, there before I realised. I should have asked." I didn't want to spoil it, he thinks but does not convey.
"It's fine," Erik says, muscles in his forehead twitching almost unnoticeably, and Charles knows it isn't. Not really.
Charles wonders if he's just crossed a line for the first time, or if it's only now that it's starting to show.
"What should we do with all this?" Erik asks gesturing at the metal, now meticulously spread over the ground.
Charles is grateful for the change of topic, and he pointedly looks at the once-car and turns his face into something he hopes is believable as thinking, so he can pause a moment and just breathe. "Don't worry about it; we'll get it later." Charles shifts his gaze back to Erik and smiles. "Lunch?"
The smile that Erik grants him in return is small and private and tugs ever so slightly at Charles's heart as Erik says, "Yes, definitely."
#
"It's beyond capability, isn't it. It's not so much a matter of can or cannot do, but more that I will, in time." Erik looks at him. "With your help," he adds, and then looks back down like he wishes he could retract the statement. He lifts a fork into the air and watches it hover there.
"Erik, I," Charles says, but he's not sure how to finish, not sure if he really knows what he wants to say at all.
"Yes?" Erik prompts, when Charles makes no move to speak further. He turns the fork over and then drops it back onto the table and looks up.
It's harder even again to complete his sentence, now that he has Erik's full attention. "I really am sorry about before," he says, though it's miles from what he really wants to say.
Erik sits in silence for all of three seconds, eyebrows raised, before he starts to laugh. "Oh Charles," he says fondly, "After everything that I've done, you think I would be one to judge you for using your powers?"
Charles splutters something incoherent before sorting out his tongue and saying, "But I didn't--"
"Ask?" Erik grins at him, all teeth but not even a little bite.
"Well, yes," Charles says. He's relieved at the tone of the conversation, if not a little mortified. "But I could tell that..." he trails off.
"It wasn't that. Never that," Erik says, and there's that little frown once more that's there as quickly as it's gone.
If ever there were a moment to reach in uninvited, Charles thinks, it would be now. But he won't do it again, not consciously, and instead he pockets the image of that expression and hopes to decipher it sooner rather than later.
#
Erik is trying to rebuild the car.
Charles is not sure whether it's determination or simply boredom that is pushing him to do it. He watches in silent appraisal for a short while, then, when there's a break in Erik's attempts, he steps up with heavy feet, making his presence known before he puts a hand to the base of Erik's neck.
"From memory?" he asks, lips twisting upwards as Erik glances sideways at him. He raises one eyebrow. "Quite a challenge. Considering you didn't pay attention."
"Yes, well." Erik says lamely. He shrugs. "Thought I'd try anyway. Maybe see if it registered subconsciously. Sometimes it feels like it did, but then it's gone again."
"So then, metal memory?" Charles suggests, beaming now.
"Maybe it's a thing," Erik says, wriggling his eyebrows. "I remember every piece of metal I ever touch."
Charles laughs. "Sounds groovy. Not entirely sure how useful it would be." He drops his hand from Erik's neck and bumps their shoulders together companionably. "Perhaps you could become a detective."
"My true calling! How ever did you guess?"
"You have to promise not to tell," Charles says, lowering his voice, "but I can read minds."
Erik gasps in mock astonishment, and then they are both laughing, at themselves and at the failure that is the pile of metal in front of them. For a second, Charles is so caught up in the warmth of the moment he almost reaches into Erik's mind again, longing to feel what's going on in there, longing to drown in that confused mix of emotions again. He catches himself in time, and stops.
Erik turns to look at him and says, "Stop worrying so much."
#
Charles lies awake in bed, trying to shake the distinct feeling of unrest. He can't imagine whatever it is there for; it had been a fruitful day, with progress all around. He has no reason to feel uneasy, unless...
He slides out of bed and makes his way to the door blindly, padding through the mansion barefoot until he gets to Erik's door. He thinks of knocking, but instead just quietly pushes the door open and steps in. By the light of the moon he can see worry carved in deep lines across Erik's features, and his hands are fisted tight in the blankets, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
"Erik," Charles whispers. At no response, he puts a hand to Erik's shoulder and sends him a single message telepathically: Wake up.
Erik's eyes flutter open and his breathing settles. He doesn't look too surprised to see Charles standing there, instead he looks relieved and then a little ashamed. "You knew something was wrong," he says. "Did you--?" he asks slowly and pulls himself up into a seating position, back resting against the headboard.
"What? Oh, god, Erik, no, it was more... instinctive." Charles pauses. "I think." He offers a small smile and a shrug as he sits down on the edge of the bed against Erik's thigh. "I am truly sorry, still, for this morning. No matter what you say."
Erik locks his gaze onto Charles and shakes his head. "It's just that, there are things," he begins to explain. "Feelings, I suppose. That I guess I didn't want you to know of." He scrubs his hand over his forehead.
"Oh, my friend, there is nothing there to be embarrassed of," Charles says quickly. "Your feelings, your emotions, your joy at accomplishing such a feat -- it was beautiful to experience, and more than a little bit distracting. There is nothing you need hide."
He wraps a hand lightly around Erik's wrist, fingers on his pulse, and sends him images, snapshots of Erik in Charles's eyes -- Erik who is magnificent and powerful and good. He feels Erik's pulse quicken under his touch before it is hastily pulled away from him. The there-and-gone frown flickers across Erik's face again and there's a flash -- almost only half a feeling -- of love, and Charles nearly doesn't catch it before Erik's mind closes off to him.
There.
Charles's eyes widen and Erik knows in that moment that he's been caught out.
"You thought I wouldn't reciprocate?" Charles asks and nudges at the corners of Erik's mind, requesting entrance.
No, Erik corrects him, letting him back in, I worried that you would.
And Erik shows him everything: every little moment of accomplishment where he couldn't be more excited to prove himself to Charles, every moment where his heart swells at the mere sight of him or where his body is hot with want and desire at the very same thing, every moment where he fears his dirty power, fears it too corrupt to be alongside someone so pure and right as Charles --
"Stop," Charles says, heart heavy but skin also lightly flushed from some of the imagery. "You deserve to be loved," he says simply, and before Erik can counter him, he leans forward and kisses him.
It's like everything he ever imagined and nothing like it all at once. Like flying and falling, sinking and soaring. He takes Erik's hand in his and twines their fingers together as he parts his lips, letting Erik's tongue slide eagerly into his mouth, remembering that want and desire. Erik's spare hand comes up to rest on Charles's neck, massaging softly as their lips meet again and again.
I can feel you in here, Charles, Erik says, smiling into the kiss.
Charles pulls back, standing up. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"
"Shh," Erik reprimands. "Come back here." He shoves the covers off his legs and pats his lap. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing."
Charles is hesitant at first, but then complies, climbing onto the bed again and straddling Erik's hips.
You can't break me that easily, Charles.
"Mmm," Charles hums. "I can always try."
Erik licks his lips and puts his hands on Charles's hips. "Be my guest."
Charles stares down at him through heavy eyelashes. "If you insist." He rolls his hips forward into Erik, only a little surprised to feel Erik's hard-on press into him as he does. He rolls forward again and captures Erik's lips in his as he gasps, returning them to where they were before Charles had stupidly pulled away. Only this time everything is shrouded in a degree more lust.
Erik turns them both over so Charles is on his back now and Erik is comfortably situated between his legs. "If you don't tell me to stop, I won't," Erik warns him, and Charles simply replies by reaching out and pulling Erik's pants and boxers down over his ass and then moving to do his own as well. "Okay," Erik grins and shifts out of the way so Charles can pull them off and toss them over the side of the bed.
Charles watches intently as Erik slides his shirt off over his head, eyes catching on scars that look so painful he can almost feel them. He puts a hand out and traces one down the length of his side, can't break you that easily...
Erik clasps Charles's hand in his to stop him, brow creasing momentarily and Charles's heart hurts. Not this again.
"You deserve this," Charles says. "You deserve all of this. Don't think for a second that you don't."
It's the right thing to say. Erik places himself back between Charles's legs and presses a kiss to the side of his lips, his jaw, his neck. Charles, he says, then pours lube over his hand that Charles never even saw him retrieve, and Charles has to bite his lip hard to keep from crying out when Erik slides the first finger in.
It's been a while since he's done this, but he relaxes quickly until Erik can fit two, three fingers in with ease and he's asking Charles if it's okay, if he can--
He wraps his legs around Erik as Erik pushes in, slowly at first to make sure Charles is alright, and then he starts to move properly.
You don't have to hold back, he tells Erik telepathically, because he's not sure he could get coherent words out right now.
So Erik doesn't. He thrusts in and out, finding that rhythm and taking Charles's cock in hand to match.
Erik, Charles says. Erik. His beautiful and magnificent and complex Erik; his Erik who deserves every single bit of love he is given, and every single bit more as well.
Whenever he finds Erik frowning, for one reason or another, he reaches up and smoothes the creases out under his fingers saying Fuck as Erik pushes in, and also Don't. Erik does his best to relax his face, and it's almost an interesting struggle to watch, but he forgets all about it as he gets closer and closer to the edge.
Fuck, Erik, he thinks over and over, losing control and burying his nails into Erik's shoulder blades, throwing his head back in ecstasy. It takes but a few more thrusts, Erik's hand working his cock and teeth nipping and scraping at Charles's neck until Charles cries, "Erik, I-" out loud this time, and he doesn't need to finish to be understood.
Erik breathes in sharply as he comes, fingers of one hand threaded through Charles's hair, Charles following him seconds later, accidentally overlapping their minds and losing track entirely of which emotions belong to Erik and which to himself.
"Erik," he laughs breathily as a loud crash sounds beside them. "Did you just drop a lamp?"
Erik laughs and collapses on top of him. "Among other things, I think."
#
There's a heavy weight across Charles's chest when he wakes, and it takes him a few bleary moments to recognise the weight as Erik. Erik's arm is draped over him and his head is snug up against Charles's shoulder, and Charles forgets to close his mind to Erik.
All he finds is contentment.
There is bound to be anger and hurt and other infinitely less desirable things hiding somewhere deep, deep beneath the surface -- Charles is not naive enough to think them all gone forever -- but for now, that one emotion is overriding all of them. For now, that emotion is letting Erik sleep peacefully at Charles's side, without a single thought for the past or even the future, and really, that's all Charles ever wanted.
Charles/Erik | R, 2575 words
Woah, um, hi there guys. I haven't posted here in months, though I've been writing (various things), and um. New fandom! Don't know if any of you care! But I figured, too bad, my comm, I do what I waaaant ;)
Elation, awe, disbelief, fear, excitement --
-- all these things and more and stronger and deeper, every time Erik uses his power just one step further than he's done before, just one step further than he could have ever dreamed possible.
Charles silently lets the emotions wash over him, forgetting, in a momentary lapse of character, to ask permission, but Erik doesn't seem to notice or mind, too caught up in just feeling to realise he's sharing the experience in its entirety.
Erik spins around, letting hundreds of pieces of metal fall to the ground, grinning at Charles. Charles can't quite choose where to look. The metal scattered over the floor hardly looks like the car he knows it once was, save for the large, tell-tale sheets of dinted, glossy red that made up the exterior. As for the rest: indistinguishable.
"I'm not sure," Erik is saying, and Charles drags his eyes back up to look at him, probably showing every bit of his own amazement on his face right now, "I'm not sure I could put it back together though." Erik laughs. "I wasn't really paying attention to the... architecture, as it were."
"No, no, of course not," Charles finds himself saying, still distracted at what he's just witnessed, still distracted by those emotions -- all-encompassing and heavy, yet somehow conflictingly light and carefree. "I wouldn't expect you to, my friend," he finishes, as if it's somehow important that Erik not think Charles has higher expectations still. Charles knows he doesn't think anything of the sort, not right now. Just those five emotions at their strongest and every other little sub-emotion that tags along with them, hand in hand.
Erik turns his attention back to the heap of metal and spreads the pieces out experimentally, so that no part touches another. "It's probably best that half the interior was gone before we started," he says. "There's so much here."
The excitement is bubbling over now, and Charles can see it tugging at the corners of Erik's lips even without the mental connection. He pulls out of Erik's mind then, a belated fix for his lapse of judgement, but he does it so abruptly that Erik's features pull into a slight frown.
"I- I'm sorry," Charles stutters, holding his hands up, palms out, in front of him. "I was sort of just, there before I realised. I should have asked." I didn't want to spoil it, he thinks but does not convey.
"It's fine," Erik says, muscles in his forehead twitching almost unnoticeably, and Charles knows it isn't. Not really.
Charles wonders if he's just crossed a line for the first time, or if it's only now that it's starting to show.
"What should we do with all this?" Erik asks gesturing at the metal, now meticulously spread over the ground.
Charles is grateful for the change of topic, and he pointedly looks at the once-car and turns his face into something he hopes is believable as thinking, so he can pause a moment and just breathe. "Don't worry about it; we'll get it later." Charles shifts his gaze back to Erik and smiles. "Lunch?"
The smile that Erik grants him in return is small and private and tugs ever so slightly at Charles's heart as Erik says, "Yes, definitely."
#
"It's beyond capability, isn't it. It's not so much a matter of can or cannot do, but more that I will, in time." Erik looks at him. "With your help," he adds, and then looks back down like he wishes he could retract the statement. He lifts a fork into the air and watches it hover there.
"Erik, I," Charles says, but he's not sure how to finish, not sure if he really knows what he wants to say at all.
"Yes?" Erik prompts, when Charles makes no move to speak further. He turns the fork over and then drops it back onto the table and looks up.
It's harder even again to complete his sentence, now that he has Erik's full attention. "I really am sorry about before," he says, though it's miles from what he really wants to say.
Erik sits in silence for all of three seconds, eyebrows raised, before he starts to laugh. "Oh Charles," he says fondly, "After everything that I've done, you think I would be one to judge you for using your powers?"
Charles splutters something incoherent before sorting out his tongue and saying, "But I didn't--"
"Ask?" Erik grins at him, all teeth but not even a little bite.
"Well, yes," Charles says. He's relieved at the tone of the conversation, if not a little mortified. "But I could tell that..." he trails off.
"It wasn't that. Never that," Erik says, and there's that little frown once more that's there as quickly as it's gone.
If ever there were a moment to reach in uninvited, Charles thinks, it would be now. But he won't do it again, not consciously, and instead he pockets the image of that expression and hopes to decipher it sooner rather than later.
#
Erik is trying to rebuild the car.
Charles is not sure whether it's determination or simply boredom that is pushing him to do it. He watches in silent appraisal for a short while, then, when there's a break in Erik's attempts, he steps up with heavy feet, making his presence known before he puts a hand to the base of Erik's neck.
"From memory?" he asks, lips twisting upwards as Erik glances sideways at him. He raises one eyebrow. "Quite a challenge. Considering you didn't pay attention."
"Yes, well." Erik says lamely. He shrugs. "Thought I'd try anyway. Maybe see if it registered subconsciously. Sometimes it feels like it did, but then it's gone again."
"So then, metal memory?" Charles suggests, beaming now.
"Maybe it's a thing," Erik says, wriggling his eyebrows. "I remember every piece of metal I ever touch."
Charles laughs. "Sounds groovy. Not entirely sure how useful it would be." He drops his hand from Erik's neck and bumps their shoulders together companionably. "Perhaps you could become a detective."
"My true calling! How ever did you guess?"
"You have to promise not to tell," Charles says, lowering his voice, "but I can read minds."
Erik gasps in mock astonishment, and then they are both laughing, at themselves and at the failure that is the pile of metal in front of them. For a second, Charles is so caught up in the warmth of the moment he almost reaches into Erik's mind again, longing to feel what's going on in there, longing to drown in that confused mix of emotions again. He catches himself in time, and stops.
Erik turns to look at him and says, "Stop worrying so much."
#
Charles lies awake in bed, trying to shake the distinct feeling of unrest. He can't imagine whatever it is there for; it had been a fruitful day, with progress all around. He has no reason to feel uneasy, unless...
He slides out of bed and makes his way to the door blindly, padding through the mansion barefoot until he gets to Erik's door. He thinks of knocking, but instead just quietly pushes the door open and steps in. By the light of the moon he can see worry carved in deep lines across Erik's features, and his hands are fisted tight in the blankets, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
"Erik," Charles whispers. At no response, he puts a hand to Erik's shoulder and sends him a single message telepathically: Wake up.
Erik's eyes flutter open and his breathing settles. He doesn't look too surprised to see Charles standing there, instead he looks relieved and then a little ashamed. "You knew something was wrong," he says. "Did you--?" he asks slowly and pulls himself up into a seating position, back resting against the headboard.
"What? Oh, god, Erik, no, it was more... instinctive." Charles pauses. "I think." He offers a small smile and a shrug as he sits down on the edge of the bed against Erik's thigh. "I am truly sorry, still, for this morning. No matter what you say."
Erik locks his gaze onto Charles and shakes his head. "It's just that, there are things," he begins to explain. "Feelings, I suppose. That I guess I didn't want you to know of." He scrubs his hand over his forehead.
"Oh, my friend, there is nothing there to be embarrassed of," Charles says quickly. "Your feelings, your emotions, your joy at accomplishing such a feat -- it was beautiful to experience, and more than a little bit distracting. There is nothing you need hide."
He wraps a hand lightly around Erik's wrist, fingers on his pulse, and sends him images, snapshots of Erik in Charles's eyes -- Erik who is magnificent and powerful and good. He feels Erik's pulse quicken under his touch before it is hastily pulled away from him. The there-and-gone frown flickers across Erik's face again and there's a flash -- almost only half a feeling -- of love, and Charles nearly doesn't catch it before Erik's mind closes off to him.
There.
Charles's eyes widen and Erik knows in that moment that he's been caught out.
"You thought I wouldn't reciprocate?" Charles asks and nudges at the corners of Erik's mind, requesting entrance.
No, Erik corrects him, letting him back in, I worried that you would.
And Erik shows him everything: every little moment of accomplishment where he couldn't be more excited to prove himself to Charles, every moment where his heart swells at the mere sight of him or where his body is hot with want and desire at the very same thing, every moment where he fears his dirty power, fears it too corrupt to be alongside someone so pure and right as Charles --
"Stop," Charles says, heart heavy but skin also lightly flushed from some of the imagery. "You deserve to be loved," he says simply, and before Erik can counter him, he leans forward and kisses him.
It's like everything he ever imagined and nothing like it all at once. Like flying and falling, sinking and soaring. He takes Erik's hand in his and twines their fingers together as he parts his lips, letting Erik's tongue slide eagerly into his mouth, remembering that want and desire. Erik's spare hand comes up to rest on Charles's neck, massaging softly as their lips meet again and again.
I can feel you in here, Charles, Erik says, smiling into the kiss.
Charles pulls back, standing up. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"
"Shh," Erik reprimands. "Come back here." He shoves the covers off his legs and pats his lap. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing."
Charles is hesitant at first, but then complies, climbing onto the bed again and straddling Erik's hips.
You can't break me that easily, Charles.
"Mmm," Charles hums. "I can always try."
Erik licks his lips and puts his hands on Charles's hips. "Be my guest."
Charles stares down at him through heavy eyelashes. "If you insist." He rolls his hips forward into Erik, only a little surprised to feel Erik's hard-on press into him as he does. He rolls forward again and captures Erik's lips in his as he gasps, returning them to where they were before Charles had stupidly pulled away. Only this time everything is shrouded in a degree more lust.
Erik turns them both over so Charles is on his back now and Erik is comfortably situated between his legs. "If you don't tell me to stop, I won't," Erik warns him, and Charles simply replies by reaching out and pulling Erik's pants and boxers down over his ass and then moving to do his own as well. "Okay," Erik grins and shifts out of the way so Charles can pull them off and toss them over the side of the bed.
Charles watches intently as Erik slides his shirt off over his head, eyes catching on scars that look so painful he can almost feel them. He puts a hand out and traces one down the length of his side, can't break you that easily...
Erik clasps Charles's hand in his to stop him, brow creasing momentarily and Charles's heart hurts. Not this again.
"You deserve this," Charles says. "You deserve all of this. Don't think for a second that you don't."
It's the right thing to say. Erik places himself back between Charles's legs and presses a kiss to the side of his lips, his jaw, his neck. Charles, he says, then pours lube over his hand that Charles never even saw him retrieve, and Charles has to bite his lip hard to keep from crying out when Erik slides the first finger in.
It's been a while since he's done this, but he relaxes quickly until Erik can fit two, three fingers in with ease and he's asking Charles if it's okay, if he can--
He wraps his legs around Erik as Erik pushes in, slowly at first to make sure Charles is alright, and then he starts to move properly.
You don't have to hold back, he tells Erik telepathically, because he's not sure he could get coherent words out right now.
So Erik doesn't. He thrusts in and out, finding that rhythm and taking Charles's cock in hand to match.
Erik, Charles says. Erik. His beautiful and magnificent and complex Erik; his Erik who deserves every single bit of love he is given, and every single bit more as well.
Whenever he finds Erik frowning, for one reason or another, he reaches up and smoothes the creases out under his fingers saying Fuck as Erik pushes in, and also Don't. Erik does his best to relax his face, and it's almost an interesting struggle to watch, but he forgets all about it as he gets closer and closer to the edge.
Fuck, Erik, he thinks over and over, losing control and burying his nails into Erik's shoulder blades, throwing his head back in ecstasy. It takes but a few more thrusts, Erik's hand working his cock and teeth nipping and scraping at Charles's neck until Charles cries, "Erik, I-" out loud this time, and he doesn't need to finish to be understood.
Erik breathes in sharply as he comes, fingers of one hand threaded through Charles's hair, Charles following him seconds later, accidentally overlapping their minds and losing track entirely of which emotions belong to Erik and which to himself.
"Erik," he laughs breathily as a loud crash sounds beside them. "Did you just drop a lamp?"
Erik laughs and collapses on top of him. "Among other things, I think."
#
There's a heavy weight across Charles's chest when he wakes, and it takes him a few bleary moments to recognise the weight as Erik. Erik's arm is draped over him and his head is snug up against Charles's shoulder, and Charles forgets to close his mind to Erik.
All he finds is contentment.
There is bound to be anger and hurt and other infinitely less desirable things hiding somewhere deep, deep beneath the surface -- Charles is not naive enough to think them all gone forever -- but for now, that one emotion is overriding all of them. For now, that emotion is letting Erik sleep peacefully at Charles's side, without a single thought for the past or even the future, and really, that's all Charles ever wanted.