round 3 overflow post

[starkmodistries.livejournal.com]

Round 3 Overflow Post

This post is for Round 3 fills only. We ask that when a round hits 8500 comments, fillers begin moving their fills to this post.

Format:
SUBJECT LINE -- Round #, short description of fic (ex: "Alex/Hank, lab partners")
--- Link to the prompt
--- Text of the prompt

--- Link to the fill
OR
--- Entire text of the fill

EXAMPLE:
Prompt: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=1038472#t2038174

Charles/Erik -- Charles is a bakery owner whose most frequent customer is Erik.

Fill: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=0139482#t4502942

Charles started off the morning the same way he always did...

Comments

FILL: Everyday Love in Stockholm 191/?

[tahariel.livejournal.com]

They stare at each other for a long moment, Erik kneeling outside the tub and Charles sat in it, his hand clasped tightly around Erik’s upper arm loosening, falling open as though he cannot bear to touch any part of Erik, all the blood draining from his face and leaving Charles as white as the tiles.

They’ve never discussed it, though it sat between them like the elephant in the room for months while they moved around one another like automatons, alternately clinging together and solitary in their miseries. Erik feels sick, instantly wants to take it back, to never have let those words out where they might have to deal with them. There’s a weight on his heart and lungs, making it hard to breathe. “I’m going to go,” he says, but instead he ends up sagging back down to the hard floor, covering his eyes with his palm so he doesn’t have to see Charles’ expression any longer. Inside his eyelids is all blood instead.

Charles’ grip comes back, a hand squeezing tight around his bicep like an anchor, and then the other hand is peeling Erik’s away from his face, forcing him to meet Charles’ gaze, blue and unexpectedly tender. The line of his mouth is soft, forgiving where it ought to be hateful. “That’s not true, Erik. It wasn’t your fault.”

Erik just laughs, rough and bitter, and says, “If not mine, whose?”

“The men who shot at you,” Charles says, voice unexpectedly fierce, brows drawing tight together with determination, his grip tightening. “Regardless of what you did to defend yourself - it was an accident on your part, but deliberate on theirs, Erik. They murdered her, not you.”

“Some might say you’re biased.”

“I should hope so.” Charles bites at his bottom lip, indecision on his face, before he leans forward over the rim of the bath to press his mouth to Erik’s, and though his expression is still determined the kiss is gentle and chaste. “It’s an ugly thing to admit, but I’m glad you killed them,” he says when he pulls back, and looks ashamed.

Erik leans forward and kisses Charles back hard, desperate, cups his hands around Charles’ face to hold him there, not that he needs it - Charles’ lips open easily under his, and the human moans, kisses back just as hard, his tongue making way for Erik’s to meet in Charles’ mouth, jaw still stubbled where Charles hasn’t shaved yet, rough and dragging against his grip. They push against one another like two souls lost at sea, adrift far from shore and treading water side by side, alternately biting and soothing, all the stronger for the long absence.

When they break for air, leaning against one another and sharing the same breath, lips just barely brushing, Erik says, “So am I.”

“This isn’t - I’m not taking back what I said,” Charles says two kisses later, eyelids heavy and drugged, flushed prettily all over and still in the tub, still gleaming sleek with water and bath oil. The floor is one big puddle and Erik’s shirt is wet and clinging to his skin, practically transparent where Charles’ body has pressed to his. “Erik, I still mean it. You have to let me go. I’m not backing down.”

“I know,” Erik says, sliding his hand down into the water to take hold of Charles’ cock, and starts stroking.



XXII

McTaggert gives the press conference two weeks later, with no mention of Magneto’s government having proposed the idea to her whatsoever; instead she puts forward “PIP’s” idea to reduce the strain on the system by closing down the camps and putting those who weren’t a threat to society back into the working population, trialling those who were known criminals and moving away from a police state now that the rioting has been sufficiently quelled. She presents it in a manner halfway between accusatory and cooperative, pitches it perfectly to what was discussed.

When it opens a public debate it is easy then to step in and be persuaded to agree, to make it obvious that the government is willing to listen, is looking to take a more liberated standpoint, agrees with her. Emma takes the forefront on this one, fields any questions about Magneto’s opinions on the matter deftly, smooth as silk and wrapping public opinion around her little finger so that he barely has to discuss it at all.