Good Boys (2/?)
“Good boy, Charles,” Erik said.
--
Charles had drunk rather a lot. They were equals, he reminded himself. They were men together. Charles Xavier was not a lightweight. He was not getting hammered in his efforts to keep pace with the lanky German. The room certainly did not seem to cant whenever he moved his head, and he certainly did not have to rest his head on his hand in order to keep looking at Erik when Erik talked.
He only noticed on his fifth drink that Erik was laughing at him. Or perhaps it was with him. At any rate Erik was laughing. Erik had a predatory laugh that revealed all his teeth, like a piranha, or --
“Squaloid,” Charles said.
“What?” Erik said.
“Like a shark,” Charles said. “I’m so pleased I remembered.”
Then Erik’s laugh was closer. The room spun. The rest of the night came in flashes. He remembered Erik's saying something and his saying something and feeling nervous and stupid and getting up to talk to some girls. He seemed to have offended them somehow because the next thing he remembered was Erik apologizing to someone and the feeling of Erik's hand in the small of his back and then brisk air hitting his face and the feeling of bricks against his back and Erik's hands on his shoulders and Erik's face looking at him from much too close and saying, "Charles, get a hold of yourself" and then he remembered vomiting into the bushes for an undignified amount of time and turning to Erik and saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and Erik saying, “Forget it, Charles.”
Then he’d woken up the next morning in his bed on one side of the suite, still fully dressed, blinking through an absolutely impossible headache and Erik had said, “Feeling better?” and he had said, “For all practical purposes I have no recollection whatever of last night” and Erik said, “That doesn’t surprise me,” and they’d left it at that.
--
“You seem strangely comfortable driving around the country picking up strangers,” Erik said after they’d gotten out of Darwin's taxicab and Charles had tugged him by the arm towards a park and deployed the chess pieces in front of them. “’We were rather hoping you would -- take us all the way?’ You sounded as though you were propositioning him.”
“We were, in a sense,” Charles said. “In a perfectly decent sense.”
“It didn’t sound perfectly decent when you said it,” Erik said. Then Erik laughed and reached over and ruffled Charles’ hair. “But that would never occur to you, would it, Charles? You’re too good for that sort of venial speculation.”
“I’m sorry?” Charles said, his scalp tingling a little in the absence of Erik’s fingers.
“Too clean,” Erik said. “It would never occur to you to proposition anyone but the most insipid human girls imaginable.” There was a strange quality to his voice as it hovered over “human” and “girls.”
“What sort of game are you playing, Erik?” Charles asked.
“Chess?” Erik said.
“What?”
“How about chess?” Erik said. “We are playing, aren’t we? Or would you rather go all the way?”
“Erik I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charles said.
“No, I don’t think you do,” Erik said. “Maybe that’s the trouble with you, Charles. You’re arrogant about the wrong things. You’re proud that you’re boring. You think you’re some sort of great flirt. You’re a rubbish flirt, Charles.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve slept with fifteen women,” Charles said.
“How like you to keep count.” Erik grinned sharkishly and put a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “You must show me the notches on your bedstead one of these evenings. I’m sure it will be quite illuminating.”
Charles shuddered a little without meaning to. “I bet that’s more than you have.”
Erik grinned. “Surely the difference between quality and quantity has penetrated even your adorably thick head, Charles.”
“Why are we talking about this?” Charles asked.
“It’s all anyone ever talks about,” Erik said, shrugging. “Better than sitting here silently playing chess and watching you pretend you aren’t staring at me.”
“I’m sorry?” Charles asked.
“You’re a good boy, Charles. I appreciate that. After all, it’s invisible, isn’t it? Your - mutation. Only sometimes your eye winks without meaning to. You don’t want to be rounded up and laughed at and so you scrupulously hunt down your fourteen human girls-”
“Fifteen.”
“Fifteen. Proper Charles. Perhaps you’re right. They’re Neanderthals. Hard enough to be a mutant, let alone-”
“I’m not,” Charles said.
“Aren’t you.” Erik’s voice was level.
“You’re not,” Charles said. He tried to make it not sound like a question.
“Aren’t I,” Erik said. “Might as well admit it, once society has its cap set against you.”
“That’s not a phrase, Erik,” Charles said, automatically.
“Once you’re one, you might as well be another. In the camps, what does it matter? You don’t choose what to be. You only choose how much to hide.”
“I’m not hiding anything,” Charles said, feeling his pulse racing because Erik was looking at him like that, level and determined and - if he were to go so far as to say it, if he had to put a word to it- sexy.
--
They were standing in the hallway outside the doors to their separate suites.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove,” Charles said.
“I wasn’t trying to prove anything,” Erik said. “I was implying.” Erik looked at him. “Would you like me to prove it?”
“I’m going to bed,” Charles said. But he didn’t move.
“You can read everyone’s mind but your own,” Erik said. “It’s almost pathetic, Charles.” He took a step closer and Charles felt as though a hand had clamped around his chest. “Look at you. Giving me that look. Blushing. Lips parted. I bet you’re even trembling.” Charles reached for the doorknob. Erik’s hand caught his wrist. “Ah-ah-ah,” Erik said, and the door clicked locked from the inside. “I have a point to prove.”
“Erik that’s enough,” Charles said, wishing there were some way to calm his breathing or to remove Erik’s hand from his. Erik’s fingers were casually stroking the skin at the inside of his wrist and Charles shuddered a little and didn’t look at Erik.
“Fifteen, eh, Charles? I’m surprised you weren’t going for a perfect square,” Erik said, and Charles felt a wave of menace and - lust, of course it was lust, he shouldn’t have thought it could be anything else - and Erik leaned a shade closer and reached out and caught Charles’ face so Charles had to look at him and Charles murmured, “Erik, what are you-” and Erik said, “I’m like you, Charles,” and kissed him.
Charles stared at him wide-eyed at first, frozen in shock. Then Erik stopped.
“For science, Charles,” he said. “Make an effort.” Then he caught Charles’ mouth with his and Charles allowed Erik’s tongue to part his lips and begin a systematic rough plundering of his mouth, and he couldn’t help that his breathing began to come in shallow gasps and he was pushing back just slightly, because kissing Erik was different than anything, and he wanted to try more of it - for science - and if Erik thought that he could move him and bend him like metal Charles was going to show him that he could not, was going to give at least as good as he got, and he’d slipped his tongue into Erik’s mouth and shifted his arms around Erik’s neck for leverage and Erik’s mouth pulled free of his mouth and Erik laughed and bit Charles’ lower lip and then Erik kissed him again, his stubble grazing Charles’ chin, and Charles made a faint non-scientific moan and Erik pulled back from him with a grin and he couldn’t help whimpering, like someone had just deprived him of oxygen.
“I was just proving a point,” Erik said. He lifted Charles’ arms free of his neck and Charles stared at him, incapable of saying anything. “The point is I think quite thoroughly proven.” He grinned. “You ought to shut that swollen little mouth of yours,” he added, moving down the hall. “Right now you look entirely too willing, and I may not be able to contain myself. Good night, Charles.”
Chapter Three (surprise!)"Chess?" Erik said.
"What?"
"How about chess?"">
--
Charles had drunk rather a lot. They were equals, he reminded himself. They were men together. Charles Xavier was not a lightweight. He was not getting hammered in his efforts to keep pace with the lanky German. The room certainly did not seem to cant whenever he moved his head, and he certainly did not have to rest his head on his hand in order to keep looking at Erik when Erik talked.
He only noticed on his fifth drink that Erik was laughing at him. Or perhaps it was with him. At any rate Erik was laughing. Erik had a predatory laugh that revealed all his teeth, like a piranha, or --
“Squaloid,” Charles said.
“What?” Erik said.
“Like a shark,” Charles said. “I’m so pleased I remembered.”
Then Erik’s laugh was closer. The room spun. The rest of the night came in flashes. He remembered Erik's saying something and his saying something and feeling nervous and stupid and getting up to talk to some girls. He seemed to have offended them somehow because the next thing he remembered was Erik apologizing to someone and the feeling of Erik's hand in the small of his back and then brisk air hitting his face and the feeling of bricks against his back and Erik's hands on his shoulders and Erik's face looking at him from much too close and saying, "Charles, get a hold of yourself" and then he remembered vomiting into the bushes for an undignified amount of time and turning to Erik and saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and Erik saying, “Forget it, Charles.”
Then he’d woken up the next morning in his bed on one side of the suite, still fully dressed, blinking through an absolutely impossible headache and Erik had said, “Feeling better?” and he had said, “For all practical purposes I have no recollection whatever of last night” and Erik said, “That doesn’t surprise me,” and they’d left it at that.
--
“You seem strangely comfortable driving around the country picking up strangers,” Erik said after they’d gotten out of Darwin's taxicab and Charles had tugged him by the arm towards a park and deployed the chess pieces in front of them. “’We were rather hoping you would -- take us all the way?’ You sounded as though you were propositioning him.”
“We were, in a sense,” Charles said. “In a perfectly decent sense.”
“It didn’t sound perfectly decent when you said it,” Erik said. Then Erik laughed and reached over and ruffled Charles’ hair. “But that would never occur to you, would it, Charles? You’re too good for that sort of venial speculation.”
“I’m sorry?” Charles said, his scalp tingling a little in the absence of Erik’s fingers.
“Too clean,” Erik said. “It would never occur to you to proposition anyone but the most insipid human girls imaginable.” There was a strange quality to his voice as it hovered over “human” and “girls.”
“What sort of game are you playing, Erik?” Charles asked.
“Chess?” Erik said.
“What?”
“How about chess?” Erik said. “We are playing, aren’t we? Or would you rather go all the way?”
“Erik I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charles said.
“No, I don’t think you do,” Erik said. “Maybe that’s the trouble with you, Charles. You’re arrogant about the wrong things. You’re proud that you’re boring. You think you’re some sort of great flirt. You’re a rubbish flirt, Charles.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve slept with fifteen women,” Charles said.
“How like you to keep count.” Erik grinned sharkishly and put a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “You must show me the notches on your bedstead one of these evenings. I’m sure it will be quite illuminating.”
Charles shuddered a little without meaning to. “I bet that’s more than you have.”
Erik grinned. “Surely the difference between quality and quantity has penetrated even your adorably thick head, Charles.”
“Why are we talking about this?” Charles asked.
“It’s all anyone ever talks about,” Erik said, shrugging. “Better than sitting here silently playing chess and watching you pretend you aren’t staring at me.”
“I’m sorry?” Charles asked.
“You’re a good boy, Charles. I appreciate that. After all, it’s invisible, isn’t it? Your - mutation. Only sometimes your eye winks without meaning to. You don’t want to be rounded up and laughed at and so you scrupulously hunt down your fourteen human girls-”
“Fifteen.”
“Fifteen. Proper Charles. Perhaps you’re right. They’re Neanderthals. Hard enough to be a mutant, let alone-”
“I’m not,” Charles said.
“Aren’t you.” Erik’s voice was level.
“You’re not,” Charles said. He tried to make it not sound like a question.
“Aren’t I,” Erik said. “Might as well admit it, once society has its cap set against you.”
“That’s not a phrase, Erik,” Charles said, automatically.
“Once you’re one, you might as well be another. In the camps, what does it matter? You don’t choose what to be. You only choose how much to hide.”
“I’m not hiding anything,” Charles said, feeling his pulse racing because Erik was looking at him like that, level and determined and - if he were to go so far as to say it, if he had to put a word to it- sexy.
--
They were standing in the hallway outside the doors to their separate suites.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove,” Charles said.
“I wasn’t trying to prove anything,” Erik said. “I was implying.” Erik looked at him. “Would you like me to prove it?”
“I’m going to bed,” Charles said. But he didn’t move.
“You can read everyone’s mind but your own,” Erik said. “It’s almost pathetic, Charles.” He took a step closer and Charles felt as though a hand had clamped around his chest. “Look at you. Giving me that look. Blushing. Lips parted. I bet you’re even trembling.” Charles reached for the doorknob. Erik’s hand caught his wrist. “Ah-ah-ah,” Erik said, and the door clicked locked from the inside. “I have a point to prove.”
“Erik that’s enough,” Charles said, wishing there were some way to calm his breathing or to remove Erik’s hand from his. Erik’s fingers were casually stroking the skin at the inside of his wrist and Charles shuddered a little and didn’t look at Erik.
“Fifteen, eh, Charles? I’m surprised you weren’t going for a perfect square,” Erik said, and Charles felt a wave of menace and - lust, of course it was lust, he shouldn’t have thought it could be anything else - and Erik leaned a shade closer and reached out and caught Charles’ face so Charles had to look at him and Charles murmured, “Erik, what are you-” and Erik said, “I’m like you, Charles,” and kissed him.
Charles stared at him wide-eyed at first, frozen in shock. Then Erik stopped.
“For science, Charles,” he said. “Make an effort.” Then he caught Charles’ mouth with his and Charles allowed Erik’s tongue to part his lips and begin a systematic rough plundering of his mouth, and he couldn’t help that his breathing began to come in shallow gasps and he was pushing back just slightly, because kissing Erik was different than anything, and he wanted to try more of it - for science - and if Erik thought that he could move him and bend him like metal Charles was going to show him that he could not, was going to give at least as good as he got, and he’d slipped his tongue into Erik’s mouth and shifted his arms around Erik’s neck for leverage and Erik’s mouth pulled free of his mouth and Erik laughed and bit Charles’ lower lip and then Erik kissed him again, his stubble grazing Charles’ chin, and Charles made a faint non-scientific moan and Erik pulled back from him with a grin and he couldn’t help whimpering, like someone had just deprived him of oxygen.
“I was just proving a point,” Erik said. He lifted Charles’ arms free of his neck and Charles stared at him, incapable of saying anything. “The point is I think quite thoroughly proven.” He grinned. “You ought to shut that swollen little mouth of yours,” he added, moving down the hall. “Right now you look entirely too willing, and I may not be able to contain myself. Good night, Charles.”
Chapter Three (surprise!)"Chess?" Erik said.
"What?"
"How about chess?"">