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"Erik just...fuck me in the arse. No tricks, no schemes, no strings." Charles Xavier couldn't stop the words. Didn't want to.
The magnetic man nodded, finishing down the last drops of his amber-gold beer. "Bottoms up, Charles."
The mind-reading English professor's smile couldn't have been any louder. Erik believed the filaments in nearby incandescent bulbs must surely burst at such the sight of that grin. Or, on account of his own quickened pulse. Either or. Lehnsherr wouldn't be held responsible for any broken bar lamps on this night. No sir, thank you very much.
Charles hopped off of his stool and made a direct line for the exit way of establishments outside deck. It was dark enough–indiscretions maybe, just maybe, could come to fruition without a fuss from local patrons.
Besides, most men in this area turned a violet cheek in respects to slippery movements that go bump in the night.
Erik couldn't–or wouldn't, rather–have cared either way. He wanted this, this Charles Xavier man. Wanted him with a passion to rival the heat of the goddamn sun, and that is to say–he wanted this blue-eyed brunette quite a bit.
_
The properly-acccented Brit sauntered in not an hour earlier–while Erik had been mulling over another shot in the dark on this, the never-ending life mission to find, gut and kill Sebastian Shaw. Klaus Schmidt. That arschloch.
And the uppity prick just...sat there, beside him, a kneecap–classy black trousers covering that porcelain-pale-white skin–brushed against Erik's own. A hum of electricity. Erik's eyes were forced shut at the–not really–contact.
It was instantaneous, really, if one were to admit as much. But Erik, who wasn't known for admitting to anything, would though, attest to such an immediate attraction with this one–this fellow mutant. Never in his life would Lehnsherr have come off as a begging prat, though. Never.
But Charles I'm-rich Xavier might have him singing to the tune of a different song by nights end. Of that truth, Erik was resigned and fully aware. And strangely enough, he hadn't minded the change of personality one inch.
"Care to join me, Herr Lehnsherr?" Charles all but wagged a finger at Erik, as though he were nothing more than a house pet waiting on its bowl of cooked animal meats. Perhaps it wash't all that far from the truth, the more Erik contemplated that particular thought.
"Indeed I am...keep up your pace, Charles. Lest someone grab you before I have the chance to fu-" Charles' face damn near turned its lips into the full rounded shape of an O. Erik lost all directional guidance in his flirtations. That mouth.
In Charles' mock-horror of what others might have said, had they heard Erik's full sentence, he succeeded in drawing out an intense wave of wantyounowrightnow from Erik's mind. It shone on and on, like a lighthouse's beacon through stormy, hurricane weathered shores. The professor could see it all so clearly. And he loved what it was he was being made a part of.
But that goddamn mouth. Those bitch-red lips.
Erik couldn't wait to have his cock plugged up this petite mans hole, but that fucking mouth. A shiver. A chill of desire and an overwhelming urge to take the genetic genius right here–on the irrationally sized dance floor–came sweeping over the metallic man. Charles caught that and his eyebrows lifted, high, eyes somehow more of an impossible blue.
"Nearly ther-" Charles began, but his lips were crushed by the German's, as they finally rounded the decks corner, no longer in the light of the bar. Smooth–smoother than Charles expected–Erik's lips stayed pressed against his own; flicks of the taller mans tongue tickling the roof of Xavier's mouth as its fevered movements came on hot and fast.
Charles reveled in the heat, felt as the magnetism of this man overcame all reason and rhyme. It was impossible for Xavier to remain steady, in the arms of this great man–Erik's thoughts were constantly flooding Charles now, boundaries were nearly gone between them.
Boundaries were gone between them, and neither much seemed to notice.
Erik broke the kiss first, his hands gripping the sides of Charles' kahki-colored dress shirt hard, tightened. "Take your pants off, Charles. Off, not just to your ankles."
Charles grabbed at Erik's belt but swiftly, was swatted away from Erik's ordering hands. "Not mine, I said yours." So it was an unwavering direct order, Xavier realized, and his pulse rate jumped to within an inch of his life.
The telepath stepped forward–as much as he could, what with Erik standing just there, in front of him–and never, never broke eye contact as he slid his black trousers down, then off. He threw them over a railing, its shadowy paint-chipped exterior reflecting broken beams of light–and watched as a wind blew them ever so subtly.
Erik took time to marvel at his prize: Charles was hard, and not just any type hard, but the hard-I'm-going-to-come-now hard. Lehnsherr licked at his once-again dried lips–missing Charles' mouth already–and he was sure this was going to be a night to remember.
The metal railing that held Charles' discarded pants began to shift–mold and twine itself, as if glimmering liquid–into a, well, what could pass as the depression of ones seated, rounded ass. Xavier moved his view from Erik's eyes to the moving steel just behind the German and wickedly, he smiled then, "an invitation to sit–to face you, I gather?" Erik didn't answer but instead, had another hypnotized length of steel position itself as a support for ones back, should it decide to ever hold any.
Charles wasted not a single breath of air. As if he were a snake surrounding its victim, the mind-reader slithered past Erik–whimpering with excitement–and eased himself down onto the railing, his back resting so that he was in a compromising tilted state of affairs. His ass was on edge, leaving more than enough for Erik to work with. Which was precisely what the metal-bender envisioned. "I want you to watch my cock as I fuck it into you." Erik's coarse voice resonated between only them, as the entire rest of the world and all of its occupants were muted and gone.
It was just them. And a seat-railing, trouser-holder thing.
Wrapping his arms around the steel that stretched out from behind the sides of his torso, Charles grabbed on and held on, imagining this to be the ride of his life. His body was taut, lean and ready for this ...this stranger to have his way with him, and it was riveting–shockingly so. The professor felt as though his body were vibrating through the residual waves of left-over power Erik had projected through the sculpted steel.
Charles loved every second of it.
Erik moved his aching dick so that its head was just outside the opening of Charles' pretty-pretty red mouth. "Wet...I want it dripping wet," Erik mumbled, his body too far gone to properly bite out orders now. He realized then that he hadn't kissed Charles past their initial rush, and longingly wished for more of those lips on his. Later.
Charles took Erik, all of Erik in one fell sweep, the thoughts of the magnetic man's wanting–a kiss?–a kiss, intoxicating him all the more. As though he were throwing himself down the rabbit hole. Curious, enticed, immersed in this...Erik Lehnsherr, Germany, Moves Metal mutant.
Subtle sounds of lapping, licking, sucking were driving Erik mad with lust. He wanted to thrust–and did–hearing a quick choking noise but then receded back. Erik could have had his cock buried in Charles' throat forever, but as content as he was there, a truer reward was waiting–readied now.
Charles wiped at his mouth, smiling as he watched Erik watch him do so intently. "I could have done that all night," Xavier quipped, words playing upon Erik's thought. He wasn't entirely certain Erik knew he was listening in, or if the German was allowing his privacy to float on the wind. Either way, Charles couldn't stop himself now. Not while things were...so impassioned.
Erik found himself paused, not entirely convinced it was of his own doing, but was all too relieved when he saw the smaller man reclining just a few feet below his person. "Erik, fuck...Erik do it...fuck me like that–yes, like the ways I've seen in your thoughts–what you want to do to me, do it, do it yes, do it..." Charles' voice trailed off as Erik's hand wound its way around the telepath's throat.
"As you've...seen in my thoughts?" Angered but not viciously so. Still, a hand was wrapped around Xavier's throat. Charles could speak freely amidst, "keep it there. Steal my air Erik, if that's what you like, I don't care, just bloody fuck me goddammit." Erik couldn't refuse the English mind-reader who apparently had no ideals for the privacy of others.
But there was that one thing.
Lehnsherr leaned his now half-naked body down to Xavier's eyes, his hand still wound around the professor's throat; his own trousers laying in a heap atop black leather shoes. Some things simply needn't matter in times of true fervor.
Erik stole that kiss then, the one he had only thought of not five minutes earlier. It was slow, calmer than their first, but hard and dirty. Fevered skin came in contact, tiny beads of sweat dancing their ways down the both of them. Salty, earthly. Erik bit at Charles' bottom lip, teeth pulling the swollen flesh out just so before releasing and kneeling himself down.
Reaching lower into his back pocket, he pulled out a small rubber disc, knowing every partner is different and blah blah blah. Cater to the masses and all that. "No, Erik, no. I want to feel you come inside of me," Charles pleaded, his two hands unwinding themselves from the steel of the railing to grab at Erik's face. "Please..." a begging offer. The best kind.
Or so Erik contrived.
It settled it then, and he threw the packet out and away from them, imagining it as it landed in the small waters of the local bay beneath their spot on the deck. "God, I wish we had a room to rent for a fucking week," Erik muttered, grabbing hold of his hardened length and placing it just at the outskirts of Charles' entrance.
"Darlin', we could," but Charles' fast retort was met with a followed-up hiss. A push. The feel of his body expanding at the seams would never grow old for the telepath, and as Erik moved his cock in, then out, then back inside, Charles would have rented that room forever. Erik was...perfection in every sense of the meaning.
As it turned out, Lehnsherr had been thinking the same of Charles, his body visibly shaking from the massive flow of adrenaline and his unexpected strike of good luck–in finding Charles Xavier on a night like tonight. Both knew such an overwhelm wouldn't last, well, as long as they're both accustomed to, but neither paid any mind.
Charles rocked his center forward as Erik pushed himself upward, and their rhythm together was damn near flawless; both were beginning to believe in a higher power, one that had brought them to this very moment of both ethereal and animalistic rituals. Later.
Xavier was on the cusp, his hands knotted, twisted around the warped steel as Erik held on tightly to his throat. He knew he would be red, possibly raw, tomorrow morning, but right now, Charles only wanted to come and watch the same of this impossible man. "Grab my cock, Erik–jerk me off," Xavier asked, his eyelashes close to batting out such a specific order.
Erik complied–happily so–and let go of his grasp around the telepath's throat. Pity. "You can choke me later, just make me come Erik, please..." a whimper–Erik realized Charles had read his thoughts again and this time smirked, smacking Charles' ass hard and fast as the price to pay for such deviousness.
"I won't be so nice next time..." Erik whispered, as he began to steadily pump up and down Charles' swelled member. Charles' head fell back, eyes closing against the wave of wantyeswantohmygodyes that overthrew any chance of reasonable thought.
Erik watched on, grin wide and accommodating as Charles came–like a crash of southern stormy waves as they befall onto land. Harsh, but beautiful and mesmerizing. Erik couldn't hold on a moment longer–he followed Charles in his orgasm and nearly fell forward–worrying briefly about the metal behind Charles, and the few seconds of incomparable pleasure that might have taken him away from his control over magnetism itself.
Turns out, everything had stayed as it was.
Charles was smiling, his hands twisting into Erik's hair now, rather than his clay-like metal. Neither had made to move. The sun could have risen and each of the men wouldn't have noticed, nor cared much for its brilliant luminescence.
"Where did you say you were supposed to be headed tonight?" Charles asked, feeling the quickening pace of Erik's heart as it slowly began to right itself.
Erik swallowed, unsure as to how much he might divulge versus the silent act of refraining. "I...-" the taller man stopped, understanding that anything he shares with Charles, is only an outspoken version of what has already taken place inside of his mind. Therefore, Charles already knows the answer to his own question.
"Sneaky, Charles, I like that." Then–
"I was on my way to kill a very bad man, Charles. An intolerable Hitler left-over that ruined my life a very long time ago. And you, Herr professor?" Erik went brazen and it paid off: Charles was happy–validated and understood that being a telepath does create odds with some–and visibly so, as they parted and stood to redress and clean themselves up.
"I appreciate the honesty, Erik, truly I do. I was also on my way to stop a very bad man, but as it turned out, he wasn't where our intel had lead us to believe. So I came here as a follow up–a refresher, if you will. Long days at the office and the lik-" Erik's face was stark white.
Charles had already known before he knew.
"Yes, Erik. I was to track down Sebastian Shaw this evening, just as you–or, from what I've gathered in your thoughts. Funny thing, how we both were meant to be in the same place, at the same time. Don't you agree?"
Erik swallowed his trepidation, and then nodded. "Funny indeed, Charles."
They made their way towards the bar entrance once again, quietly satiated this time, but happier than before the came to be out here. "One more question Erik, if you don't mind?"
Erik held onto the brass doorknob–not that he actually needed to–while his other hand spun a Reichsmark over and over inside of his trouser pocket. "Mmh?"
Charles leaned in, taking a chance that would change his life, "do you play Chess?"