Good Boys (6/15)
The next morning he’d woken up and seen Erik sitting on the end of the other bed across the suite doing the crossword puzzle and how queerly normal it felt made something shift in the pit of his stomach. Erik was wearing a suit today, not his usual turtleneck and jacket, and Charles thought, He looks good in suits. Good but -- wrong somehow, like a dog in a sweater. This was not the sort of thought that was supposed to occur to Charles Xavier.
“Morning,” he said, pushing the covers off. He felt Erik’s attention snap to him across the room, almost reflexive.
“Morning, Charles,” Erik said. “Four letters, amuse-bouche?”
Charles flushed.
“Not that, Charles,” Erik said drily. “This is the Times puzzle.”
“I have no idea,” Charles said, getting up and stretching and strolling over to him, feeling a bit like Raven strolling over to Hank, and settling next to him on the end of the bed. “Let me see.”
“It’s not sorbet,” Erik said.
“I know it’s not,” Charles said. “Is there a trick to this one?”
“Not really,” Erik said. “It’s Wednesday.”
Charles squinted at the other words. “Kiss,” he said. Erik grinned and patted him congratulatorily on the knee.
“Exceptional,” he said. His hand lingered on Charles’ knee. At the touch, Charles felt as though the room had shifted a little. Without quite thinking what he was doing he covered Erik’s hand with his and leaned over and kissed him, a bit hastily and suddenly, their noses bumping.
Then he got up and headed for the bathroom.
“Are you taking suggestions, Charles?” Erik called after him. “I think eight down may be fellatio.”
This could not be happening to him. He washed his hands and stood under a cold shower for rather longer than was necessary.
That day they drove all day. Or rather, Erik drove, and he tried not to stare at Erik.
--
“I think we’d better go out and find some company,” he heard Charles Xavier saying that night. “We’re getting a bit stir-crazy, wouldn’t you say?”
“I wouldn’t,” Erik said. “I’d say you’re terrified of what you’re watching yourself become, Charles.” He took a step closer and Charles tried to stop himself from shuddering. “What terrifies you the most is how badly you want it. You’re a perfect, filthy little cocksucker, Charles.”
“Erik, please,” Charles said. “Your constant stream of obscenity gets a bit tiresome.”
“Fine,” Erik said. “Let’s go out. See what good it does you. See if you can keep the images out of your head. See if you can stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” Charles said.
“Like you want me to fuck you in the ass.”
“Erik,” Charles spluttered, reddening.
Erik took a step towards Charles and slid his hand down Charles’ shirt and briefly cupped the undeniable hardness at the front of Charles’ trousers. “The power to read your mind would almost be redundant.”
“That’s not my mind, Erik,” Charles said.
--
But they went out anyway. Charles drank carefully, gin and tonic, scanning the bar for girls. He couldn’t help feeling Erik’s amused gaze on him. The other man looked entirely too smug. It was infuriating.
The way Erik drank was even worse. He looked exactly as self-assured while he drank as after he’d put the glass down. There was something maddeningly conspiratorial about the look he kept turning on Charles. “You won’t find what you’re looking for in this bar, Charles,” Erik said, finishing his beer and motioning to the bartender. “No one here would know what to do with you if they tried. Give over the charade and let’s go back to the hotel.” Another beer arrived. He glanced at Charles over it and Charles could feel the image of himself that burned behind the eyes - flushed and kneeling between Erik’s legs, taking him in his mouth. Liking it.
“Erik, please don’t look at me like that,” Charles said.
“I’m beginning to find that what you ask me to do and what you actually want are quite unrelated, Charles,” Erik said.
His hand reached over and pressed Charles’ knee. It was the same gesture as that morning, and it made Charles feel giddy and mortified at once.
“Erik, don’t,” Charles said.
“Stop looking at me like that and maybe I’ll stop,” Erik said, leaning closer so his voice was a whisper of breath in Charles’ ear. “And don’t tremble like that whenever I touch you. It’s endearingly virginal but it shows your hand.”
“Erik, I mean it,” Charles said, pushing Erik’s hand off with some effort and getting off the stool, heading vaguely in the direction of what felt like a not unattractive girl at the end of the bar. “
Erik laughed and got off the stool and caught him by the arm and whispered, “You shouldn’t, Charles. Now when you come staggering back in two hours’ time, begging me to touch you, I’m going to want more.”
“Stop talking,” Charles said.
“I’m going to want to see all of you, Charles,” Erik hissed, and when Erik looked at him like that Charles felt as though he were naked already. “So go. Try her. All you’re doing is kissing your schoolboy modesty goodbye.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Charles said, not looking at him. Then he had walked purposefully off towards the end of the bar and heard himself saying, “I beg your pardon, but I couldn’t help noticing what an exceptionally groovy MCL-1 mutation you have - the name’s Xavier, Charles Xavier,” and even saying the name didn’t make him feel any more reassured, not with Erik’s eyes on him like that, mirthful and taunting, from the end of the bar.
The line went rather better than he had expected. When he looked back over Erik was gone.
Going home with the girl wasn’t hard, and unbuttoning her sweater and tugging down her stockings wasn’t hard, but as he began undoing his own shirt-buttons his hand froze.
She’d see.
She’d see the marks where Erik had touched him - the bruise that hid just below his collar and the delicate marks Erik’s mouth had left on his chest - and somehow Charles felt that any idiot could see without any gift at all that those were not marks that had been made by a woman, that the dark stippled mark just below his collarbone whispered that last night he’d been clamped in Erik’s arms, kissing him desperately and hungrily and feeling Erik's laugh ripple against his chest, that Erik had made him whimper and moan and thrust against him, that his lips still remembered the shape of Erik’s cock -
“Mm,” the girl said appreciatively, and Charles knew that he was hard now, and that it was not for her.
For a moment he looked down at her. She was soft with dark eyes and auburn hair and soft full pink lips, and she was perfectly all right and probably somehow ideal in regards to her ratios, but she was not what he wanted, not what he wanted at all, soft where Erik was hard and - gentle where Erik was demanding and she didn’t frighten him and she didn’t have a big - and the sheer absurdity of the thought made him start laughing in spite of himself. He thought fleetingly, “sixteen.”
“What?” the girl said.
“It’s not you, love,” Charles said, frowning down at her, and grabbed his sweater and said, “I’m sorry, love, I can’t, I hope I haven’t disappointed you.”
“But -- Charlie” she said, and then it was easiest to kiss her once and get rid of the evening altogether, and he was out the door, clutching the sweater in front of him to hide the embarrassing bulge, and he was feeling mortified and elated at once, followed by the thought, I’ll worry about this in the morning. When he got back to the room Erik was lying on the bed still fully dressed, waiting for him, looking agreeably smug.
“Well, Charles,” he said. “You’re early,” and then Charles was standing there at the end of the bed tearing all his clothes off in an undignified frenzy, fingers shaking as he pulled off his sweater and undid the shirt and undid the belt and shoved the pants down and didn’t even pause before removing the boxers and then he was standing there tousled and hard and naked except for his socks and Erik actually gasped and said, “My God, Charles,” and Charles was blurting out, “I want you, I want you, Erik, please, touch me, everywhere,” and Erik looked at him with a commingling of lust and amazement and said in a voice that was strangely rough, “Everywhere, Charles?” and was up on his knees on the bed and had caught Charles in his arms and they were kissing almost violently, teeth knocking together, Erik’s stubble grazing against his chin - and this was it, this was what he had wanted, and he began undoing Erik’s belt, clumsily, and Erik muttered, “Fuck, Charles, let me,” and the buckle practically wrenched open and the zipper raced down and Charles tugged the pants and the boxers down and grinned with satisfaction and licked his lips and Erik hissed, “You’re filthy, Charles,” and kicked the boxers off and began kissing Charles again, mouth hot along the side of his neck, and Charles heard the thought, “He’s gorgeous like this,” and flushed and Erik laughed, “Now you blush, Charles?” and Erik’s mouth latched onto his nipple and Charles moaned and they were both panting, much closer than they’d thought, and Erik grinned at him and Erik’s hand gripped both of them together and Charles’ eyes flickered shut and Charles hissed, “Erik.”
Erik kissed him again, his hand sliding excruciatingly slow between them, and Erik murmured, “Admit it, you’re helpless - this is all you want, it’s all you’ll ever want -- you’d do anything I asked - I’ve already ruined you for girls at least, and what’s more you know it” and Charles’ breath was coming in ragged gasps and Charles didn’t speak, just kissed him, and Erik said, “I want you to say it,” and Charles said, “Yes, Erik, please, Erik,” and then Erik’s hand sped up, and they both groaned simultaneously, their eyes locking on each other, and Charles’ hand clasped over his and after a few moments found the same rhythm and Erik muttered, “Grosser Gott,” and kissed him, and when their mouths latched together it was too much, Charles came with a helpless gasp and a few moments later he felt Erik’s body twitch against his and Erik’s seed coated his stomach.
They sagged together.
“My God, Charles,” Erik said, looking at him. The look set something warm and peculiar tugging at Charles’ stomach, because Erik’s eyes had a look of - wonder, Charles thought, distinct from the lingering lust, and Erik hissed roughly, “Come here,” and pulled Charles’ face to his and kissed him. Charles heard, “I could kiss you all day,” and then Charles felt his ears burning and a strange grin spreading across his face, and suddenly he was struck by how he looked, sticky stomach and sweaty knees locked against Erik’s and damp tousled hair and he realized Erik was still wearing a shirt and said, “Erik you’re still half-dressed,” and Erik grinned and glanced down and said, “So it would appear,” and Charles said, “I’m disgusting,” and Erik said, “Perfectly,” and Charles climbed free of his arms and got into the shower and didn’t realize until he turned on the water that he was still wearing his socks.
When he got back in Erik had fallen asleep and Charles walked across the room to his own bed and got in and thought, “I’ll think about this in the morning” and was asleep in moments.
Chapter Seven