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Erik Lensherr was by no means a man inexperienced in the way of what went on (or according to Charles, should go on) behind closed doors; though far from full, though far from happy, one thing his life until Charles had not lacked in was experience. Even so, he had not dreamt of doing a thing like this before. Charles had been meeting with CIA agents all day. He had promised to get milk and cigarettes on his way home, which should bring him through the door in about ten minutes. The little ponce - Charles’ term, as much as Erik’s - was bound to be surprised.
Raven had recently left- her help had been necessary, if nothing else- and, all else put into place, Erik laid in the bed they shared, legs long and stretched out before him as he skimmed through some novel out of Brazil. That was the key in the lock, that was the squeak of the hinge, that was Charles’ footfall, and that... was a gallon of milk and case of cigarettes hitting the floor.
“Merciful God in Heaven, Erik!”
“Charles,” came the measured drawl as he lowered the book. Silk rustled, softly, as he moved. “Taking names in vain now, are we?”
“In the name of Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, yes.” Charles’ face was flushed, his breathing audible. The milk jug had cracked and was leaking onto the floor, and he hadn’t noticed yet. His eyes, bright and blue as ever, were more occupied with the seams on a pair of black nylon stockings.
Erik let out a bark of laughter that seemed to seethe and settle down into a growl. He beckoned with a finger- just one. That finger was more than enough, though, to make Charles shrug out of his coat and stagger to the bed.
“And what did I ever do to merit this?” he whispered.
Hands, much softer than usual, cupped the clean-shaven, boyish face, and caressed it, drawing Charles in almost close enough for a kiss; he could feel Erik’s warm breath at his lips. “It doesn’t take a gift like yours to know what you were thinking.”
“Oh, Erik... you don’t know how beautiful you are, right now.” Charles’ eyes roved over his lover’s body. “Those legs...” The telepath sank to his knees and softly kissed his way from Erik’s thigh to his ankle. This caused a hitch in the breath of the other man, feeling lips through nylon against muscular, but impeccably shaved skin; how sensitive it was now. Interesting. Already, beneath the other accoutrements he had selected for the evening, his cock was beginning to stir.
“I spent far too much time on them, I hope you know.”
“Oh, believe me, I can tell. Men have never given women enough credit for doing this - or for getting their seams straight, which I notice you have.” Charles brushed his face against Erik’s calf, soft on smooth. “Good God, Erik, I could devour you whole, like this.”
This drew a sound that was almost a purr; in sitting up, in drawing nearer, hair brushed over Erik’s shoulders that was immaculately styled, and not his own. Tell me, he thought, how often you’ve imagined it. Coming in to see me like this, dolled up like a courtesan.
Too often. Too, too often. Charles spoke into Erik’s mind while running his lips over long limbs, and catching silk gently in his teeth. I’m rather dirty that way. And there’s no gorgeous, filthy little desire I’ve ever had that I wouldn’t love to share with you.
Erik had to bite a painted lip to keep from arching like a cat as Charles’ teeth tugged softly at the hem of the blue silk negligee, making fabric brush against his perking prick. Share it, then.
I want to worship you like this, Erik. I want to kiss your fingers and suckle your toes. I want to lick your nipples til they’re stiff and aching, and your hole until you drip. I want to suck you off, with my head up your skirt. I can’t think of a single thing I wouldn’t do for you now. Charles’ hands reached up, running over silk-covered muscles. Are you going to make me beg?
“Yes,” breathed the master of metal, aloud, fully hard now, his erection heavy and hot in its confines of lace without the touch of a single hand. “I want you to beg, and I want you to talk, and I want you to think and gasp and take.” A tongue ran over a mouth colored red. Beg, dirty boy.
“I’d best beg aloud, then. I have the advantage of being already on my knees.” Charles stared up into Erik’s piercing eyes. “Please, Erik, let me serve you tonight. Let me touch you. Let me please you. Let me wear out my tongue on you.” He swallowed. “Let this dirty boy taste the cock of the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.”
“Do it, then. Let me watch you crack that lovely mouth, boy.”
“One condition.”
“That is?”
“I won't be satisfied with making you come only once.” There was a twinkle in Charles’ eye; no matter how desperate he was, there was always a hint of fun about him.
Erik made an elaborate gesture of invitation. “Consider it yours to suck dry.” Sweet filthy creature.
I could never be anything less, around you.
Charles leaned in, and, true to his word, buried his head between Erik’s thighs and under his skirt. Painted nails raked deep, fingers bunching in the bedclothes as his companion spread wide, one leg and then the other. A wet, eager tongue lapped at the head of Erik’s erection, and then the whole of it was engulfed in the young professor’s mouth. This drew a strangled cry, a head of dark curls tossing back with the conflagration of pleasure that swept through the man not dressed as a man, who had to grind fierce teeth together in order not to thrust. A low, half-drunk moan came up from under the negligee, as Charles took Erik into the back of his throat again, and again - he must have taken the invitation to crack his mouth as an order. Erik swore, low, guttural German, his prick vibrated, slurped at, nudged down a tight and gorgeous throat; in high-heeled shoes, his toes were curling. As his tongue lavished attention on Erik’s cock, Charles’ hands played over his thighs, feeling the fastenings of the garter belt, coming to fondle Erik’s sac and tease at the cleft of his ass.
Will you spread for me, my lady? May I touch your cunt, as I suck your cock?
Tell me how much you want it. Erik shut his eyes a moment, letting his hips roll upwards, giving just the slightest push in Charles’ mouth. His muscles clenched as one at the brush of the younger man’s fingertip, and it was all he could do not to shudder; he licked his lips, half breathless. Tell me how wet you want to make this cunt. Tell me all the things you would have me let you do to it.
Just now, I want to stroke it, play with it, dip in one wet finger as I suck you, just to make it know what lies ahead. When my mouth is full of your come, I want to keep it on my tongue, and delve into that sweet hole with it, make it wet and sloppy with your own essence. I want to stretch it with my mouth; I want to put my tongue so far in that it sticks in place, and I taste nothing but your musk for the rest of my life.
The rest of his life... oh good God. Erik, for his part, had never before been harder in the whole of his, and breathless, straining on Charles’ palate, he parted his legs as wide as they could go. “And... and then?” When I’m gushing and wide and slick with it all, just what will become of this poor tight little hole?
And then, when it’s open, and slick with spit and come, my fingers will take it. Charles hummed around Erik’s cock. My fingers will take it, they’ll slip in, they’ll explore and rub and thrust. They’ll find that most delicate spot, the one you’ve denied me so often, and stroke it, again, again, again, until I feel it squeeze and spasm, until you’ve spurted all over my face.
“Gottverdammten-” Erik’s gasp caught hard in his throat; his testicles had drawn up tight, so very tight, in their newly-shaven sac, and his erection was quivering already, pulsing warm precome at a slow and steady gush over Charles’ eager tongue. “Gottverdammten holle, ich kommen...!”
Asperge gulam, mea Domina! Charles’ tongue and lips grew still faster, more desperate.
Erik seethed through teeth that almost had to hold back a laugh- Latin, honestly, the dear professor's erudition knew no bounds- and then it was thundering through him, resolving into a shout as his hips bucked, savage, into Charles' red lips with each shuddering wave of orgasm. The kneeling man eagerly sucked and coaxed out every drop, but did not yet swallow - it seemed he was going to make good on his promise. This alone made Erik jolt, and shiver on the bed, Adam's apple bobbing.
"Charles... oohhh..."
That’s just the start of what this mouth wants to do for you. Your Charles is a greedy boy.
I wouldn’t want him any other way.
Please lie back. I want to taste your cunt. I want it so badly.
Practically purring, the elder man sank into pillows, scooting just one strategically under his own hips, his motion making the softened bulk of his cock shift slickly, still between Charles’ lips; he could feel the thick swish of his own warm semen. He felt Charles gulp away half the liquid in his mouth before reluctantly releasing Erik’s cock, giving it a last quick kiss before settling on his stomach on the bed. Erik’s fingers sifted long and tender through the tawny curls, stroking.
Beautiful boy.
Nowhere near as beautiful as you. Charles slowly pulled apart Erik’s muscular cheeks. Every last bit of you. His mouth flew to Erik’s hole, kissing, nibbling, and dripping. With a strangled yowl, Erik’s lips parted wide, his hands tightening hard in those silky locks, tugging, commanding.
Fuck fuck fuck Charles yes, let it make noise, let me hear...
A sloppy tongue lapped and slurped, noisily, at the puckered flesh, and Charles moaned happily. Let me do this for you, Erik. Make me work for every gasp and groan from those gorgeous painted lips.
Yes, oh yes, let me rule that mouth, let me own it, with cock and fingers and cunt and asshole and every power that lies at my disposal... let me mark you as my own. Let me reward and anoint you with my come. That’s it, liebe... beg with that tongue of yours.
I worship you, the master-mistress of my passion.
Charles’ tongue slid forward, into a hole the professor rarely was privileged to touch. The slick, eager muscle was insistent, patient. It pressed and swirled, and slowly, slowly penetrated the tight ring. Erik could feel Charles’ rush of joy as he flexed his tongue.
Merciful God, it’s so tight, it tastes so good. I will get stuck in here, you’ll see, and you’ll have to drag me around between your legs while you go recruit the rest of our kinsmen. Charles’ hands snaked up Erik’s torso to tease at silk-clad nipples. I worship you, Erik. I worship you with my tongue. I worship you with my body.
Erik wanted to laugh, wanted to groan, wanted to curse and to cry; Charles' tongue delving, thrusting deep, insinuating itself further inside his writhing body than he had thought possible; Charles's mind speaking, pouring into his, washing over him in waves of holy desire; all was Charles, Charles, Charles. It was beautiful. It was unbearable. He rolled his hips faintly, his cries rising into a steady keening- this, mind, with his cock still utterly spent and lying tame, brushing against his companion's cheekbone on a particularly enthusiastic suck, making the other mutant shiver.
Charles continued undeterred; his hands stroked and teased, and that tongue, that tongue twisted and flexed and writhed... I will make you hard again, Erik. I can do this til cock-crow. I can do this til we’re both dead. I am your devotee, I am your priest, and I will make you bless me with your come. There is no better use for me. The professor’s soft hand went to Erik’s cock, and his fingers began to circle its base. It stirred in his grasp as if in recognition of the hand that coaxed and cajoled it, and Erik loosed a deep groan that resounded in the pit of his stomach, that squeezed his sphincter around Charles’ loving tongue. The man’s eyes were shut tightly as if to hold something back; it may have been tears, it may have been sheer disbelief that this was real, that this was them. Charles could make lovemaking filthy and fucking holy, and it could never feel anything but right. Charles was a miracle.
“So... good,” Erik choked through his teeth, and it did and did not praise the titillation of his flesh. So good to me.
You deserve it. You are divine. The hand began to squeeze, and slowly move up the shaft. My face is in your dress, my tongue is in your hole, and I could never be more elevated than I am right now.
Says the man with the mind to match a compassionate god. Erik was panting now; he could feel the slick of saliva and of semen inside his ass and out of it, making the sheets damp and dark. He could feel the telltale beginnings of a second wind, the slow, steady pulse of his slow-stroked cock.
Make me work for it. Make me earn it. Make me earn your ecstasy. The hand went faster, the tongue and mouth still messy, still eager, still devoted.
You will. You’ll work, and work, employing all of your skill and strength; by the time I grant your wish, you will be sore and sweet and gasping.
Oh please. Oh God, yes, please wear me out, please, God, Erik, make me so I can’t speak tomorrow, so I go to the agency still coated in your come, so everyone looks at me and knows just how filthy, how filthy and how Goddamn lucky I am.
You, Charles, are the most erudite... most saintly whore I have ever known. Erik tipped his head back, tightening around the sweet warm tongue while thrusting into Charles’ fingers, sucking in deep fierce breaths of air.
I’m no saint, but I can’t help being erudite. It’s a requirement at Oxford as much as the swim test. Charles’ tongue delved deeper still, so much so that Erik could feel a row of teeth brushing against his hole. Servio libidinem deae androgynes. Erik’s groan was deep and shuddering, the words, the scrape of white teeth at his hot rim forcing blood into his cock, making it pulse in Charles’ hand. That hand circled, stroked, finally settling into a steady pace. Up and down. In and out. World without end, amen.
“Amen,” Erik rasped, and closed his eyes. If he ever got to Heaven, this would be it. He could see Charles’ hips shifting ever so slightly - the boy must be hard as hell, but even his thoughts didn’t betray it. Erik felt, from Charles’ mind, a wordless wash of affection, of devotion, of - dare anyone say it - love. It almost hurt, and it curled his toes, and it left him scarcely able to breathe. “Bumse mich,” he swallowed. “Charles... fuck me.”
Yes, Erik, I promised you those fingers. The professor drew out his tongue, slowly. Oh, I was right; I am nearly stuck. Finally, Charles was free to look up at Erik. His face was flushed; his open mouth showed a very swollen tongue. “You are so beautiful,” he croaked. “My friend, you are the most beautiful creature in the entire cosmos.” Charles reached his hand for the hole his tongue had left open. Slender, warm fingers entered the sopping passage, and Erik arched off the bed.
Even so... I’m glad I didn’t have to squeeze you out of there.
I’m not. What an act that would be. We’d have bragging rights in all the best brothels of Europe. The fingers hooked up, gently, rubbing at the place Charles’ tongue had only been able to brush at. Erik all but whimpered, fisting the sheets before baring his teeth, letting out a string of rich dark swearing as he began to swivel, then bear down with his hips, riding the other man’s fingers. Flawless form, as always.
You like that idea, do you? Of my asshole pushing against you, trying to get you out?
If I’m to be completely honest, any idea involving your asshole and me is an idea I like. Fingers thrusted, gentle but firm, with perfect accuracy. You can trust me with it, you know. I’m not here to hurt you. I never would.
Erik’s lips were open now, in a litany of gasps; he hung on those last few words, thighs trembling. Heart throbbing. I know. I... fuck, Charles, right there, keep at it, keep at it, it’ll make me come.
Yes, my goddess. Charles pumped his fingers a bit faster, stroking firmly, looking up from the mattress into Erik’s eyes. “Please come for me,” he rasped aloud. “My goddess, my lady, my courtesan, my friend, please, please bless me, please tell me I’ve done right by you, just trust my fingers, trust my tongue, trust my face, and come for me.”
Erik was gone. Erik could have sworn he was dying as it broke over him, as his own screaming filled his ears in a ecstasy so great it all but exploded every other time in his life his own screams had drowned him. Warm, pearled semen, not as thick as the last time but queerly copious, gushed in waves from the end of his well-stroked prick, painting Charles’ face with it, dripping down flushed cheeks. When the flow finally stopped, Charles slowly raised himself from the mattress, and, without withdrawing his fingers, brought his face level with Erik’s. His other hand stroked a cheek flushed from rouge and exertion. While the younger man’s face was wet with come, it was still serious, and oddly beautiful.
“Erik,” he said, thickly, quietly. “Thank you.”
The mutant below, nearly exhausted, took that gorgeous, wrecked angel’s face in his hands and kissed it right on the mouth, hard. There was so much he hadn’t yet learned how to say. “Tell me how you want to be finished.”
“Oh good God, I’d nearly forgotten... just your hand. I’ve just felt you climax twice; it won’t take much.” He smiled. “See, I am rather greedy after all.”
“Magnificently.” Long fingers, smoothed for the occasion with creams and buffers innumerable, tugged down a zipper, unlatched a button, pushed down trousers and pants so far as they could, and curled round the straining, uncircumcised shaft, beginning to stroke slow and tight. “Additionally, I think you ought to come inside me.”
“Do you mean...” Charles paused, and licked his lips, slowly withdrawing his fingers. “No, Erik, it’s fine, don’t worry.”
Erik’s mouth twisted, enigmatic, and gave a single nod, running a thumb over the copiously dripping head of Charles’ cock as he quickened pace just a hair. The semen-spattered man was already panting, shifting his hips into Erik’s grasp. Though his lipstick had been painstakingly chosen and impeccably applied, Erik smeared it magnificently as he drew his lover in for another kiss, fierce and deep and full of the tang of salt, twisting his wrist just so on the upstroke, harder each time, as though tugging the telepath forward. Charles whimpered, moving with his lover, inching forward, trying to recapture those lips. They met in a flurry of grunts and gasps, and just as they did, Charles’ tip brushed against something hot, hot and impossibly wet. The devoted professor’s mouth opened wide just from the momentary touch. Erik’s eyes were not shut; they bored into the other man’s, steel-gray into blue. Charles did not break the gaze; he laid the palm of his hand flat over Erik’s heart.
Push, Charles.
Yes, Erik.
Charles took a breath, and pushed forward, slowly, gasping as they became one. Fingers dug into his softer backside, hilting him as deep as he could go, Erik making a soft sound beneath him, panting; there was something new in this, something special.
Erik, I... forgive me, it’s so good, I... I don’t know how long I’ll last.
It’s all right. Keep on. Give me all you have.
Charles groaned, quiet and sweet, as he pressed in and drew out. Even flushed and desperate as he was, he stayed gentle, thrusting into Erik’s wet hole slowly. The hem of the negligee hiked up around his waist, Erik let his lips fall open in the sheer sensation of it, the warm push and pull of their coupling; fingers tangling in Charles’ curls, the hands on his buttocks were replaced by Erik’s heels, arching into the other man like anything. Charles’ gasps of pleasure became a continuous thrumming moan, and there were tears in his eyes.
Hot and wet and holy... Erik... I can barely think at all. Feel me. Feel this.
And Erik’s mind was filled with Charles - the slick heat, the dizzying lust, the abject gratitude that his lover felt. Gray eyes pricked, welling bright, and inside he clenched, muscles closing tight and deep; unable to respond in any way but gasping, silent sentiment the one he never would dare name. Charles was his. Charles was holy. Charles was ubiquitous; everywhere, everything. The two men wrapped their arms around each other, moving together; despite smeared lipstick and a disheveled wig, despite damp trousers and spattered skin, everything was soft and sacred.
Charles... Charles, I... please. Eyes locked; sky into steel. Give it to me.
Yes, Erik. For you. Charles tensed, quivered, his breath rushing... a long, low moan, and he poured himself into his lover. There were tears in his eyes as he collapsed onto Erik’s chest. The man beneath him gasped, cool air through painted lips, and shut his eyes. Warmth.
Charles pressed soft kisses to Erik’s lips. “Are you all right, Erik? Are you happy?”
“Elevated.”
“Erik, I... you’re so beautiful. You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do right now. It’s not the makeup or the stockings. I love you smeared and rumpled and peaceful.”
“And you. Flushed, eyes bright as anything...” A thumb ran over Charles’ cheek. “Exquisite.”
“Thank you for this. For all of this.”
“I could say the same to you.”
“I can never do more than give you your due.”
“You do, though.”
Charles said nothing, but curled into Erik’s chest. The metalbender felt, from him, nothing but peace - peace, and the love they were both too polite to mention. But there was time for that. There would always be time for that. For now... they had this. Their peace. Their beauty.
They would never be more beautiful than this.