SPEAKING OF UNFATHOMABLE POWER. Uh. This will almost certainly not answer your questions, but... have a little something?
The baby is dreaming.
Charles tucks his head against the crook of his arm, sinking into the sofa cushions and the primal brain of his child, careful not to reach too deep. He'd been dreadfully afraid the last time too, of possibly damaging the brain -- he doesn't know if he's the first telepath to be carrying a pregnancy to this stage (he doubts it), but there is a distinct paucity of information on the effects of telepathy on prenatal development. Sebastian's interest in pursuing its research died with his human child, leaving Charles with memories and unaswered doubts.
His hand drifts down to stroke his belly. The movement catches Erik's attention, and for a moment Charles sees himself through Erik's eyes: pale and fragile, tucked under a knitted blanket. Erik's possessiveness crests like a wave, washing around Charles's ankles. He feels himself tensing in wary anticipation, but after a few seconds of indecision Erik decides not to get up from his desk and cross the room to touch Charles. He relaxes.
Interesting, that Erik's ardour hasn't cooled with Charles's pregnancy. Sebastian was much the same -- near the end, he was always around, finding excuses to touch Charles everywhere. Charles shudders. There isn't much room to run, when one is imprisoned in a cell of mirrors. He wonders if there's a correlation between unusually possessive alpha behaviour and convictions based on misinformed beliefs about biological determinism and genetics. Possibly, if one could prove that the alpha in question is driven by a perceived need to ensure the perpetuation and protection of his or her superior genetic material.
Charles carefully unclenches his jaw. By the thirty-fifth week of his pregnancy, he'll be able to tell if the child he's carrying is a mutant. God, poor David. Charles would gladly trade all his knowledge for David's return, and for to never have had that moment of revelation when he woke up from surgery with a scar and a body shocked at its emptiness. Charles remembers everything, from the first day Sebastian pricked his skin with a needle to the surge of hope he'd felt when the Brotherhood broke into Sebastian's labs.
He thinks of baby names. Perhaps he ought to ask his students for suggestions. There aren't many opportunities for reflection anymore, with the sudden swell in the number of mutants on Genosha. He could think about it while Erik got on with fucking him, he supposes. Unless Charles is actively resisting, Erik doesn't care what Charles is or isn't thinking/feeling/doing in bed.
Well. That's unfair. Erik cares the same way many alphas do: vaguely, with no real conviction of doing the right thing. Erik will never ask Charles why he always wants the lights on when Erik is on top of him. Why Charles never sleeps through the night. Whether Charles likes to be touched, whether Charles wants it slow, if he just wants to held. If his skin crawls under Erik's mouth, on bad nights when Charles looks at Erik and remembers Sebastian's face, how at the apex of his heat Sebastian made him beg to have his mouth and arse stuffed with cock. Erik will never ask Charles for permission.
It's not so bad when he's ready for it, though. Easy enough to play his favourite fantasies in his head on good days, and detach himself on bad days. There are moments now when the light hits Erik's eyes just right, or when his smile catches Charles at the right time, that Charles feels a flash of desire. Perhaps one day it won't be accompanied by sick disgust at himself.
Charles rubs the blanket between his fingers, thinking. There's more at stake here than the question as to whether his child is a mutant: will she be an alpha or an omega? He doesn't think his daughter will be a rare beta -- he has a feeling she might be an omega, which means he'll have to accelerate his plans.
Don't worry, he thought. You'll grow up in a world where omegas hold the reins of power. Just buy me a little more time.
Anon!author
The baby is dreaming.
Charles tucks his head against the crook of his arm, sinking into the sofa cushions and the primal brain of his child, careful not to reach too deep. He'd been dreadfully afraid the last time too, of possibly damaging the brain -- he doesn't know if he's the first telepath to be carrying a pregnancy to this stage (he doubts it), but there is a distinct paucity of information on the effects of telepathy on prenatal development. Sebastian's interest in pursuing its research died with his human child, leaving Charles with memories and unaswered doubts.
His hand drifts down to stroke his belly. The movement catches Erik's attention, and for a moment Charles sees himself through Erik's eyes: pale and fragile, tucked under a knitted blanket. Erik's possessiveness crests like a wave, washing around Charles's ankles. He feels himself tensing in wary anticipation, but after a few seconds of indecision Erik decides not to get up from his desk and cross the room to touch Charles. He relaxes.
Interesting, that Erik's ardour hasn't cooled with Charles's pregnancy. Sebastian was much the same -- near the end, he was always around, finding excuses to touch Charles everywhere. Charles shudders. There isn't much room to run, when one is imprisoned in a cell of mirrors. He wonders if there's a correlation between unusually possessive alpha behaviour and convictions based on misinformed beliefs about biological determinism and genetics. Possibly, if one could prove that the alpha in question is driven by a perceived need to ensure the perpetuation and protection of his or her superior genetic material.
Charles carefully unclenches his jaw. By the thirty-fifth week of his pregnancy, he'll be able to tell if the child he's carrying is a mutant. God, poor David. Charles would gladly trade all his knowledge for David's return, and for to never have had that moment of revelation when he woke up from surgery with a scar and a body shocked at its emptiness. Charles remembers everything, from the first day Sebastian pricked his skin with a needle to the surge of hope he'd felt when the Brotherhood broke into Sebastian's labs.
He thinks of baby names. Perhaps he ought to ask his students for suggestions. There aren't many opportunities for reflection anymore, with the sudden swell in the number of mutants on Genosha. He could think about it while Erik got on with fucking him, he supposes. Unless Charles is actively resisting, Erik doesn't care what Charles is or isn't thinking/feeling/doing in bed.
Well. That's unfair. Erik cares the same way many alphas do: vaguely, with no real conviction of doing the right thing. Erik will never ask Charles why he always wants the lights on when Erik is on top of him. Why Charles never sleeps through the night. Whether Charles likes to be touched, whether Charles wants it slow, if he just wants to held. If his skin crawls under Erik's mouth, on bad nights when Charles looks at Erik and remembers Sebastian's face, how at the apex of his heat Sebastian made him beg to have his mouth and arse stuffed with cock. Erik will never ask Charles for permission.
It's not so bad when he's ready for it, though. Easy enough to play his favourite fantasies in his head on good days, and detach himself on bad days. There are moments now when the light hits Erik's eyes just right, or when his smile catches Charles at the right time, that Charles feels a flash of desire. Perhaps one day it won't be accompanied by sick disgust at himself.
Charles rubs the blanket between his fingers, thinking. There's more at stake here than the question as to whether his child is a mutant: will she be an alpha or an omega? He doesn't think his daughter will be a rare beta -- he has a feeling she might be an omega, which means he'll have to accelerate his plans.
Don't worry, he thought. You'll grow up in a world where omegas hold the reins of power. Just buy me a little more time.