When Charles finished, the human was weeping openly, the acrid stench of urine rising from his clothes. Charles studied him with alarming compassion, then pressed his fingers to his temple again and murmured, "Sleep. Peacefully."
"You didn't need to do that," Erik said, as soon as they were safely ensconced in his private chambers.
"I wanted to," Charles said, simply. He sat down on the chair in front of Erik's desk. "From what I can gather from Agent Levine's mind, the CIA has put together a mutant strike force. Code name 'Muir Island', headed by a Moira MacTaggert. They found another telepath, by the way -- a woman by the name of Elisabeth Braddock. She taught Levine some basic shielding, but he was a poor student."
Erik hissed under his breath. "So the humans are recruiting mutants to fight their own extinction."
Charles stood, drawing his jacket tighter around himself. "You do realise," he said softly, "that mutants and humans are of the same species, don't you?"
"It was the humans who drew a line between us." Erik didn't need to explain -- he knew Charles was aware of the laws that were beginning to be passed in a number of countries, the creeping interest in the study of mutants among world governments.
"It was a mutant who cut my child out from my body," Charles said, steady and precise. "The same mutant who killed your mo--"
Erik grabbed Charles's arms and shook him, hard, fingers pressing deep into Charles's flesh. Charles cringed but didn't cry out, his eyes wide like a frightened deer. "This conversation is over," Erik snarled, leaning down into Charles's face, so close he could smell the soap Charles used. Gardenia oil and sandalwood, the same one Mystique occasionally hoarded. And, under that, Charles's own scent, startlingly arousing.
He spun them around and walked Charles backwards a few steps, then pushed him down onto the chaise longue. Charles's face was pale, but the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows lent a golden cast to his skin, smoothing over his imperfections. Erik wanted to consume him, taste the hidden corners of his heart and the secrets he kept enclosed in his fists, begging for someone like Erik to pry them open.
Erik unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink sounding loud in the silence.
Charles lowered his eyes and began shedding his shapeless, baggy clothes in a tidy heap on the floor. Erik paused, watching him. He typically put on layers of clothing despite the Genoshan heat, but went to bed nude, ready for Erik. It was vaguely dissatisfying, in a way -- Erik never had the pleasure of unwrapping Charles, never had cause to linger overmuch with foreplay.
Erik crawled between Charles's thighs, careful not to put any pressure of Charles's abdomen. There was something thrilling about taking Charles like this, Erik still fully dressed except where he'd unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock, Charles naked and exposed under him. Charles's areolas were darker now, the nipples more prominent. Erik stroked them with the back of his fingers -- once, twice, thrice -- and pinched gently.
Charles made a small, choked-off sound. His eyes were closed. Erik traced Charles's brows with his lips, kissing the eyelids. He ran his palms up Charles's arms to cup the shoulders, marvelled at the surprising breadth of Charles's chest. The pale, freckled skin twitched under his fingertips, even as Charles tilted his head back to bare his neck. Pleased, Erik licked the elegant curves of Charles's clavicles, and reached down to push Charles's legs farther apart. Charles's eyes slitted open, a gleam of blue just visible under his lashes.
Erik took his cock in hand and thrust in firmly, forcing another small sound from Charles's throat. He frowned. Charles felt a little dry. No matter -- Erik groped for Charles's cock and stroked the flaccid flesh, as he gently rocked in and out. Charles bit down on his bottom lip, sweat beading on his forehead. Erik brushed them off with his free hand; Charles's skin felt cool and clammy under his fingers.
En Passant 5/7 (Charles/Erik, Charles/Shaw, omegaverse AU, warning: dubcon)
"You didn't need to do that," Erik said, as soon as they were safely ensconced in his private chambers.
"I wanted to," Charles said, simply. He sat down on the chair in front of Erik's desk. "From what I can gather from Agent Levine's mind, the CIA has put together a mutant strike force. Code name 'Muir Island', headed by a Moira MacTaggert. They found another telepath, by the way -- a woman by the name of Elisabeth Braddock. She taught Levine some basic shielding, but he was a poor student."
Erik hissed under his breath. "So the humans are recruiting mutants to fight their own extinction."
Charles stood, drawing his jacket tighter around himself. "You do realise," he said softly, "that mutants and humans are of the same species, don't you?"
"It was the humans who drew a line between us." Erik didn't need to explain -- he knew Charles was aware of the laws that were beginning to be passed in a number of countries, the creeping interest in the study of mutants among world governments.
"It was a mutant who cut my child out from my body," Charles said, steady and precise. "The same mutant who killed your mo--"
Erik grabbed Charles's arms and shook him, hard, fingers pressing deep into Charles's flesh. Charles cringed but didn't cry out, his eyes wide like a frightened deer. "This conversation is over," Erik snarled, leaning down into Charles's face, so close he could smell the soap Charles used. Gardenia oil and sandalwood, the same one Mystique occasionally hoarded. And, under that, Charles's own scent, startlingly arousing.
He spun them around and walked Charles backwards a few steps, then pushed him down onto the chaise longue. Charles's face was pale, but the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows lent a golden cast to his skin, smoothing over his imperfections. Erik wanted to consume him, taste the hidden corners of his heart and the secrets he kept enclosed in his fists, begging for someone like Erik to pry them open.
Erik unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink sounding loud in the silence.
Charles lowered his eyes and began shedding his shapeless, baggy clothes in a tidy heap on the floor. Erik paused, watching him. He typically put on layers of clothing despite the Genoshan heat, but went to bed nude, ready for Erik. It was vaguely dissatisfying, in a way -- Erik never had the pleasure of unwrapping Charles, never had cause to linger overmuch with foreplay.
Erik crawled between Charles's thighs, careful not to put any pressure of Charles's abdomen. There was something thrilling about taking Charles like this, Erik still fully dressed except where he'd unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock, Charles naked and exposed under him. Charles's areolas were darker now, the nipples more prominent. Erik stroked them with the back of his fingers -- once, twice, thrice -- and pinched gently.
Charles made a small, choked-off sound. His eyes were closed. Erik traced Charles's brows with his lips, kissing the eyelids. He ran his palms up Charles's arms to cup the shoulders, marvelled at the surprising breadth of Charles's chest. The pale, freckled skin twitched under his fingertips, even as Charles tilted his head back to bare his neck. Pleased, Erik licked the elegant curves of Charles's clavicles, and reached down to push Charles's legs farther apart. Charles's eyes slitted open, a gleam of blue just visible under his lashes.
Erik took his cock in hand and thrust in firmly, forcing another small sound from Charles's throat. He frowned. Charles felt a little dry. No matter -- Erik groped for Charles's cock and stroked the flaccid flesh, as he gently rocked in and out. Charles bit down on his bottom lip, sweat beading on his forehead. Erik brushed them off with his free hand; Charles's skin felt cool and clammy under his fingers.