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“New beginnings”, that’s what Charles had called it when he soared into Erik’s head with a soft kiss and a lightning strike. That’s what he calls popping back into existence apropos of nothing, saying he’s back and alive and in Paris for some reason, and please come and we need to talk and well, yes, of course I’ve already bought you a ticket — it’s not like you would’ve said no, would you, Erik ?
Charles has a strange spark to him, a vitality that extends beyond his conspicuously younger appearance. (Charles had described the strange process of turning into himself — waking up to new lines on his face, scars rising and deepening as he ruminates on each one: a shuffled phylogeny of his synapses, skin, and sinew).
Charles’ smooth skin and constant chattering are only superficial regressions, though. It doesn’t stop him from slipping into long bouts of dour silence, staring into the distance with an unsettlingly blank mind. It doesn't hide the way Charles pales when he steps forward and the floor isn’t where he expected it to be — when he asks about someone long dead, or stumbles into another opportunity for Erik to haltingly inform him about another disaster that came and went in his absence.
( Please. Not yet. A telepathic murmur from Charles, when he inevitably caught Erik thinking about the worst, like he's wired to — Does he know about Scott; I’m going to rip Farouk limb from limb; Is he truly okay; Tortured so long. Erik had made to speak, but thought better of it when Charles gave him that tight smile he knows too well, that always means something between thank you and this conversation is over .)
Over dinner, they put those thoughts on the backburner, instead discussing the fanciful yet essential project that Charles has decided to bring back to life alongside himself. The monotonous storm raging in Erik’s mind eases for the first time in years as they talk, Charles’ enthusiasm rolling over him in waves. Their minds connect seamlessly as they trace the preparations they’ve made to those they have yet to make.
Their minds dance and shiver against each other which, paradoxically, turns Erik's focus to the… physical .
Charles pauses at yet another roadblock between them and godhood, mind click-click-click -ing away alongside Erik’s, staring at the nothing between his potatoes mousseline and haddock. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, and worries it absently with his teeth. Having finally stopped talking for long enough to focus on the meal at hand, he bows his head a little, and Erik can follow the slope of his nose, linger on his long lashes as they brush the tops of his cheeks, pink from too much pinot noir. Charles laughs — a gorgeous, comforting sound Erik hasn’t heard in so long — teeth flashing behind a soft smile, tilts his head back, and exposes the soft, criminally unmarked skin of his neck. Erik leers at him all through the meal, thoroughly updating the mental images that have inflamed Erik’s thoughts for decades.
They know each other too well for Erik to feel something as juvenile as shame for it, or to pretend as if the strange circumstances have abated the desire that's been bubbling inside him since the airport crowds abruptly thinned, revealing Charles — smiling, gorgeous, and so very alive. Charles had been making it more than clear that the feeling was mutual, his kisses becoming progressively wetter and hungrier as the day moved on. Charles’ mind had attached to Erik’s the moment he was close enough to. It reminds Erik of times they’d shared beds, and Erik had found that if he didn’t spoon Charles to sleep he’d wake up to Charles’ arms (and legs, depending) wrapped around him like a hungry octopus.
Erik likes to catch Charles in his own stupors. A new body comes with learning curves. It’s been ages, thousands of astral years since Charles has had intimate contact with a mind that isn’t actively trying to break his very soul, much less the mind of the man he loves most, so Charles finds himself struggling to temper his zeal and keep some semblance of a privacy curtain between their minds.
Erik doesn’t mind though. He doesn’t mind at all, because he’s happy to be privy to Charles’ mental groan at the way Erik’s muscles ripple underneath his shirt as he takes a plate from the server, his mind’s shiver when Erik surprises him for the umpteenth time by saying something unexpected and sharp, his thoughts wandering to hazy yet unmistakably obscene memories.
Spreading himself open on Erik’s cock for the first time, feeling fuller than he’s ever felt before; Erik growling above him as he thrusts in vehemently, Charles stifling his moans in his pillow, trying not to wake his students; Erik spooning him in a tiny, salvaged cot in the ruins of Genosha, stroking his sensitive chest til he’s whimpering; Charles kneeling in the sand of a secluded cove on the beaches of Utopia, tasting bay salt as he kisses down Erik’s happy trail. Erik can’t help but fill in the missing frames, every one of Charles’ blissed out expressions, the sensation of his fingers sinking into Charles’ muscle and fat, the perfect grip of his hole around Erik’s cock. The space between them heats significantly and for a long moment, their senses are limited to just the two of them, the meet of their gazes, and the quivering line of psychic desire between them.
Erik’s openly ogling Charles’ lips as they suck the meringue from his dessert spoon (and privately listening to Charles loudly think what he really wants to be sucking on) when the waiter disrupts their latest bout of horny telepathic parallel play with the bill. If she notices anything, she doesn’t say anything, though it’s just as possible that Charles had simply nudged her mind safely away from his flushed face and the sweat beading at Erik’s temple.
When they’re alone again, Charles smiles at Erik knowingly and sends, Ready to go?
Yes. With anyone else, he’d probably inquire “go where?” first, but it doesn’t matter whether Charles means his hotel or a private plane straight to Krakoa. From now on, where Charles goes, he goes.
Charles blushes. I — well.
That said, right now Erik suspects that their destination is just anywhere Charles can comfortably lie on his back and scream to high heavens.
Charles huffs and rolls his eyes, but his cheeks only get pinker, and the waves of adoration rolling over Erik saturate with lust. “You're ridiculous.”
“You inspire me, Charles,” Erik says drily, and mirrors the desire right back.
One exorbitantly large tip on top of one exorbitantly large bill later, they step out into the wintery streets of Paris. They only get as far as the empty outside seating area before Charles is walking them to the side and dragging Erik down by his scarf. Erik happily cedes to the unspoken demand. Charles can barely hold back a husky moan as their lips touch, and their noses mash up against each other in his haste to get close. Erik momentarily picks up the taste of meringue before Charles snatches it right back, desperately sliding his tongue against Erik’s mouth.
Erik can barely formulate another thought before Charles bites his lower lip. He gasps, hot breath materializing in the air, and swiftly seals their lips back together. Charles’ tongue slips warm and wet against Erik’s, rhythmic and incessant, exuding greedy and unapologetic satisfaction. His arms wrap around Erik’s torso and pull him even closer. Erik’s hands meet at the small of Charles’ back, and he's already starting to surrender, already starting to sink in the endless sea of Charles’ desire and — a group of people rush past, loudly conversing and laughing.
There’s a sudden gust of cold wind, chilling his ears and tossing his hair, and the noise — his brain struggles to identify the language. Erik’s pulled out of his stupor, and their surroundings rush back to him like they’re made of iron filings. The incongruity of it, the sudden interruption, reminds him of the years, years spent having to keep their hands to themselves in public lest the stalemate between them entirely fall apart — or lest they find themselves victimized on yet another level.
He abruptly breaks the kiss before he fully realizes what he’s doing. For a moment, they’re both silent, panting through parted lips, staring into each other’s eyes with little plumes of mist rising between their faces.
Charles fully blinks out of the high he was just building, and confusion flickers across his face. Erik wants to shake his head, set his jaw, and pretend nothing happened. It’s a tactic that’s served him well, especially in the past few years. But Charles is back, Charles is here, and Charles is the one person who’s never let him get away with that. He’s been too quiet for too long anyway: Charles, naturally, is already extrapolating.
“Oh for god’s sake, Erik, it’s 20 —” Charles pauses, and then furrows one eyebrow. “What year is it again? Oh — “ he interrupts himself with a laugh, tittering at the absurdity of cheating death.
Erik’s momentarily scuppered by the image of it, still not used to how freely Charles treats him to his smile, and consequently, does nothing to stop Charles’ immediate reinvasion of his personal space. He avoids Charles’ searching eyes, and grumbles,“It’s not just that.”
Lord knows he’d disembowel anyone stupid enough to hassle them, anyway. He tries and fails to hold back memories of his cape catching on Charles’ bedroom window, memories of heated looks shared behind the backs of their blissfully ignorant charges.
“Now, none of that,” Charles says, and puts a gloved hand on Erik’s chest. “What did I say earlier?”
Juvenile defiance Erik hasn’t felt in a while flares in his chest, the sort Charles always inspires in him, especially when he uses that damned teacher voice. But Charles’ concern radiates through the condescension, and he’s watching him with hopeful eyes.
“...New beginnings,” Erik concedes.
Charles’ pensive expression relaxes into a smug smile, and he looks like he’s about to say something sly, which, for Erik, just won’t do.
If you want to be an exhibitionist so bad — Erik tugs Charles by the waist, pulling him flush against him.
Charles gasps in surprise, and Erik revels in the way Charles’ mind goes fuzzy around the edges. He captures Charles’ lips in his and that gasp dissolves into a low, muffled moan. Charles sags against him, giving in, and parts his lips for Erik’s tongue. Easy, Erik teases him, and Charles responds with a lazy shimmer of lust and contentedness. Erik strengthens his grip on Charles’ waist, reaches around with his other hand to grab his ass. Charles moans shamelessly, and his lips part further — Erik takes advantage of his laxness and sucks on his tongue, slow and sure.
Charles may not know what year it is, but last Erik heard, public indecency was still quite the faux pas. And the way Charles is clinging to him, making sweet little noises with spit starting to run down his chin —
Please, Charles thinks, eyes opening just a sliver to stare into Erik’s. Have you forgotten who I am? His tongue laves over Erik’s lower lip, and he pulls back from the messy kiss. I could have you spread me out right here and no one, no one, would be the wiser. Not even the birds.
Erik shuts his eyes and bites his lip hard, as if that will stop his body from reacting to those filthy words. Charles smiles impishly when Erik’s cock twitches in his pants, his pelvis so snug against Charles’ lower stomach. It’s always been one of Charles’ favorite games, playing into Erik’s telepathy kink when he least expects it.
“Would you like that?” Charles murmurs, voice husky, face inches from Erik's. He leans in hard, further sandwiching his arousal between them, and Erik is momentarily lost for words, quagmired in the sensation. Charles tilts his head, parodying innocence. “Would you like to rail me here on the patio tables? I’d freeze everyone in the next arrondissement if it meant I could have you pumping inside m —”
Erik silences Charles with — he’s not sure if it can be qualified as a kiss, maybe more of a bite, brusque, forceful, too much teeth, and fingers pressing into his neck.
Whatever was holding his patience and control together these past few moments, these past several hours, has worn away. Erik pulls back before Charles can drag him in again, and growls, “My hotel. Now .”
“ Yes, ” Charles breathes, swaying a bit on his feet. "Of course. Before we make a scene .”
Erik can’t stop himself from quickly scanning their surroundings, but it’s dark and a Friday night in Paris: no one pays them any mind. He's not sure he’d care if they did at this point.
“I’ll assist if anyone happens to be using their telescope this evening,” Charles assures him, keyed into his thoughts.
Erik laughs, and Charles wraps an arm around his shoulders, ready to be carried. He easily lifts Charles into his arms, as he has so many times before, and they rise quickly, far above the buildings.
Charles shivers and burrows into Erik’s chest as the temperature drops with height. He’s uncharacteristically quiet during the trip, stunned into silence by the view of Paris lights from up high, but his mind continues to thrum pleasantly against Erik’s. They’re not far from Erik’s hotel though, and he quickly pinpoints its location by the particularly rusted steel of its stormwater drains. Erik guides himself to the correct balcony by the familiar metal of his helmet, where it’s sitting on the bedside table. He unlocks the doors into the suite with a thought, and they drift into the room.
Charles' back is flush against Erik's front when he sets him down, and Erik can't help but curl a hand around his waist. Charles hums, turns his head, and tilts it back for a kiss. Erik indulges him, sucking at his lips as they meet his. His hands roam up Charles' front, and Charles gasps when he wrenches his shirt up to explore the soft skin underneath. He moans against Erik's mouth as Erik gropes the soft swell of his lower stomach, pressing his fingers into the firm abdominal muscles underneath. Charles squirms as Erik slides his hands up over sensitive ribs and over his chest. The sensation of his large, rough hands cupping his pecs makes Charles shudder with anticipation, and he breaks the kiss with a heady whimper.
Charles is licking Erik's spit from his lips, eyes shut in bliss, when Erik turns his attention to the perky nipples his chest is sporting. His fingers circle each nipple lightly, gently teasing as he waits for Charles to fall into a lull. Charles sucks on his bottom lip and moans, quiet and satisfied, and Erik pounces, squeezing both nipples between forefinger and thumb on either hand.
With a sharp gasp, Charles' eyes snap open, and he arches back against Erik, shoving his chest into Erik's hands. Erik grits his teeth as sensation soars through their psychic rapport, electricity racing through Charles' body and pooling between his legs. Charles trembles and gasps as Erik starts twisting his hardening nubs back and forth.
Oh — I — Erik, Charles thinks. His mind is quivering, jumbling and stalling, weakening his grasp on communication.
Erik roughly tugs his nipples forward, hungry for more of that: the way Charles turns into jelly in body and mind when his tits are assaulted. Charles moves with him, head lolling back and knocking against Erik's collarbone.
Charles still fights to think despite his shaking legs and the cries being forced from his throat. Fuck — God, I thought this m-might be less — less — intense now that I'm walking but —
Erik squishes Charles' nipples between his rough finger pads, not keen on Charles still having that much of a grasp on the English language, and massages downward, feeling the thick pebbled flesh roll against his touch. Charles cries out, mind abruptly shorting out, and grabs for Erik's wrist, helpless.
Charles' thoughts dissolve into a mess of please and more as Erik intensifies his assault, tugging and massaging at the base of both nipples. He can feel them swell under his attention and groans deep in his throat as he visualizes them, flushed and abused.
The way Charles could be reduced to a shaking whining mess through his nipples had always driven Erik crazy. But it was how Charles' already round and perky nipples always grew swollen and obscene in response to rough treatment that really sent him into a frenzy.
Erik’s mind conjures the memory of a night in Haifa where a chance whisper of touch against Charles’ chest and his subsequent whimpering resulted in Charles coming loudly and messily minutes later just from nipple stimulation; next, the memory of one of many nights when Charles would left his bedroom window ajar, a silent invitation for Erik to “privately negotiate”. Charles had pulled back from his hungry kisses and shrugged off his suit jacket to reveal his nipples protruding right through the fabric of his dress shirt. Your fault, Charles had said, his voice calm and smooth like butter, despite Erik's wild gaze. An impression of the previous night's tryst rose between them: Erik sucking Charles' nipples until he shook apart beneath him. Charles moaned as his shirt worried against the swollen peaks. They've been sensitive all day, I'll have you know .
Erik's cock jerks in his briefs, snapping him back into the present, and like lit gunpowder, a need to see such fruits of his labor sparks and races through him on double-time.
Erik’s hands swiftly move to turn Charles around, manhandling him by the waist like a doll. Charles’ shirt is rucked up high on his chest and, already knowing what Erik wants from him, he pulls it over his head and tosses it to the floor. He pushes his chest up and out for Erik's appraisal, his face flushed pink by a mix of embarrassment and lust. Erik sucks in a breath at his limpid expression, so starkly juxtaposed with the brazen showcase of his fat, blushing teats. Erik’s hands re-envelope his chest, for a moment it's silent aside from their heavy breathing — Charles’ chest heaves with each of his breaths, and Erik watches the moonlight glisten and shift off his swollen nipples. Erik swears he can see them get even stiffer from the cold coming in through the balcony.
Erik’s cock had softened some on the way to the hotel, but now, he feels harder than he has in ages. Charles’ eyes flit down to where their bodies are pressed together, feels the sensation of Erik's cock slowly pulsing against his hip, and looks back up at him underneath his lashes.
Erik sucks in a breath, galvanized, and firmly pulls at Charles' nipples. Charles' eyes swiftly roll back and he totters forward when Erik tugs him by the tits into a sloppy kiss. Charles moans, tongue sliding against Erik's, and lets himself be walked backwards further into the hotel room as he teases his overstimulated nipples. Charles' legs hit the side of the bed and he sways for just a moment before Erik properly shoves him down into it. Charles bounces and absentmindedly notes the good mattress quality, but his thoughts quickly go blank at the sight of Erik climbing over him. He reaches out instinctively, but Erik grabs his wrists before they can get far, and pins them together above his head.
Once Erik has Charles spread out to his liking, he leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. He aims to be gentle at first, but he rapidly loses control of his hunger for Charles' supple chest, and the suction soars in intensity. Charles cries out and squirms like he's trying to get away — but he loops Erik's feverish missed this missed this missed this thoughts back to him and shoves his chest out to chase Erik's mouth.
Charles is projecting hard, and it's a struggle for Erik to focus when he can feel every suck and swirl of tongue on Charles' thoroughly abused teats as if they were happening to his own. It's so much, too much, and yet: oh God, don't you dare stop, Erik .
Charles' hips grind up of their own accord, desperate for even more stimulation. Erik feels Charles' cock through his pants, rubbing against the knee he's situated between Charles' legs. He gathers enough clarity outside of the sensitive tit between his teeth to press his knee against it. Charles yelps, and his hips work faster.
Charles is nearly incoherent as he whines, pants, and madly bucks his hips. Erik smirks at the display, meeting Charles’ eyes. Charles huffs and throws his head back, the desperation and frustration building between their minds until he’s irked enough to claw his way back to speech.
"You're — overdressed," Charles gasps, voice shaky with overstimulation.
Erik roughly pulls off Charles' left nipple with a harsh pop that has Charles groaning again. Erik forces himself not to stare at the way it's swelling up under a coating of his saliva, and instead raises an eyebrow at Charles. "Oh?"
Charles licks his lips, pouts, and puts on his best puppy eyes. "You'd really deprive me of seeing that gorgeous body? After so long?"
Erik had planned to draw that part out, to make him beg for it, but Charles' sweet-talk and soft cobalt eyes throws that all out the window. You and your tricks.
Charles just smiles.
Erik makes quick work of his suit jacket, and then his tie. Charles' eyes watch his fingers like a hawk as he unbuttons his shirt, and once he's tossed it to the side his hands are immediately all over Erik.
Yes, Charles murmurs mentally. He sits up to press his skin to Erik's and run his hands up Erik's waist, over his ribcage, the veins bulging on the surface of his biceps. Erik shudders, body tingling underneath Charles' exploratory hands. He hasn’t been touched like this in a long time, and he finds himself arching away with each drag of Charles' fingers, his bare skin so sensitive. Charles chuckles fondly, and brings his hands up to envelop Erik's heaving pecs — or whatever amount of them his hands even can envelop. Erik moans, tensing up as Charles starts squeezing and massaging them, smoothing his thumbs over his salt-and-peppered chest hair, mesmerized. He grabs Charles’ wrist to still him, and Charles smirks up at him, fingers still very much sunk into Erik's ample breasts.
"Oh, so you get to abuse my poor chest, but I can't have my fun with yours?" Charles teases.
Erik rolls his eyes, and Charles squeezes one of his perky nipples in retaliation. Erik cries out, grits his teeth, and firmly grabs Charles’ other wrist. Charles barely has time to react before Erik forces his arms back into the mattress, pressing his knee back up against his crotch for good measure. Charles whines, immediately going limp everywhere but his hips, which buck and roll against Erik's leg, aching for contact.
Erik huffs. Always so desperate.
Charles just whines in response and chews his bottom lip. Erik feels Charles' clothed cock jump against his knee, and his mouth waters as he pictures it — Charles' chubby little cock, pink and fat and swollen, the wet head stretching past his foreskin.
Charles moans at the imagery, and his wrists struggle against Erik's grip. He looks down at the tent in his pants. Please.
My pleasure, Erik responds, and undoes Charles' belt and zipper with a flash of magnetism. Charles bites his lip as he watches, always turned on by Erik using his powers in the bedroom, and cants his hips up to let Erik drag his pants and underwear off in one movement.
Erik takes a moment to admire Charles' newly disrobed half, eyes roaming over his slim but delicious, shapely thighs and the curve of his hips before finally settling on his cock. Charles had blushed the first time they'd been naked together, Erik's size dwarfing his, but Erik had long since washed away his knee-jerk worries about Erik being as much of a size queen as him. The size difference makes Erik just as hot as it does Charles, and he's veritably obsessed with Charles’ cock — the girth, the softness and thickness of the foreskin, the pretty reddened cockhead, the constantly leaky, dribbling slit, not to mention how well it stretches his tightness when it's his turn to be bent over.
Said object of Erik's affections is standing to attention, creamy precum dribbling from the slit and dampening Charles' happy trail. Faint veins protrude through Charles' soft foreskin where it’s stretched back from his engorged cockhead.
Erik's mouth is watering again, and Charles firmly cuts off the thought forming in his head. "You're not sucking me off, I want you inside me tonight."
Erik raises an eyebrow and mentally reminds him of many nights they'd spent together where Charles had cum more times than they could keep track of before they'd called it quits. With Charles' penchant for orgasmic feats, cumming down Erik's throat and then cumming on Erik's cock could be on the table.
Charles clears his throat, frazzled from the unexpected memory-images of him wailing underneath Erik and ruining the sheets with cum. "Be that as it may…I still want you inside me first. Please. I've been starving for it."
Charles' mind flares white-hot for a moment, so desperate again. Erik swallows dryly. "Alright, schätzchen." he looks back down at Charles' cock, still forlornly leaking precum. "But…"
Charles smiles sideways, charmed by Erik's sulking. Breathless and eager, Erik feels Charles’ thoughts change course, listens to Charles debate with himself. I have missed that lovely mouth, after all, and Erik is such a good little cock worshipper when he wants to be ….
"Alright, darling, just a taste ."
Erik is bowed between his thighs before Charles takes his next breath. He gasps in surprise when Erik grabs his ass and tilts his lower body upwards for a better angle. Charles moans low and long when Erik's mouth envelops his cock in one smooth movement. Erik groans — he's missed the taste of Charles' precum — and begins sucking hungrily, trapping Charles’ silky girth against the wet massage of his tongue. Charles gasps when Erik slips his tongue through the slit and underneath his foreskin. Erik's head bobs in a sensuous rhythm, his tongue laving underneath Charles’ foreskin and along the ridge of his slick cockhead. Once Charles' cock is nearly down his throat, he swallows, suckles hungrily around the shaft, and digs his fingers into Charles' plush ass as he pulls him closer. Charles cries out in response, louder than Erik would expect from that move, but he's too focused on the cock swelling in his mouth to dwell on it.
Erik's spit rolls down Charles' balls as he moves back up his cock, and Charles feels sparks in his belly as Erik returns to slurping at the head and hungrily tonguing his slit. He quickly slips his fingers into Erik's hair and tugs firmly — Erik pulls back with a wet pop, and looks up at him, eyelids heavy with lust.
Charles struggles to catch his breath, heat still shivering through his body, and his cock jumps in sympathy. Thin lines of spit hanging between his cock and Erik's parted lips collapse in reaction.
"A taste , I said."
Erik just licks his lips and smirks.
He leans back and straightens up, and Charles’ eyes are drawn to the considerable tent in Erik's pants. Now it's his mouth's turn to water. His cock, still throbbing out in the open, twitches and spurts a little arc of precum. Erik chuckles as Charles blushes furiously, and sends, someone's eager .
Pants off, Charles demands. He sits up against the headboard and hungrily eyes Erik's crotch. Now .
Erik steps off the bed, quickly undoes his pants with his earlier magnetic trick, and pulls them down. Charles' breath quickens at the sight of his sizable bulge. Erik's cock strains against the fabric of his briefs, which are pulled so taut Charles can clearly see the outline of the fat head.
Erik kicks off his pants completely and hooks his thumbs under his waistband to pull his underwear down. He pauses to look up and can't help but laugh when he catches Charles staring at his crotch with wide, enthralled eyes. Charles' eyes flick up to meet Erik's, brow furrowing, like he's about to protest the delay, when Erik finally pulls down his briefs.
Charles' breathing goes heavy as he stares down Erik's massive cock. Was it always this big? he thinks, dazed, gaze running up the imposing length of it to where it disappears in Erik's neat, curly bush. It's long, girthy, and riddled with veins, visibly throbbing as his arousal holds its hefty charge at half-mast. Charles watches thick pre drool out of his slit, watches his heavy balls tense up in their sack —
"You're drooling, Charles," Erik hums, unable to resist teasing. He toes off his briefs and saunters back to the bed. Erik's girth bobs in the air as he moves, and Charles continues to silently ogle at it, as if hypnotized by the slow, heavy swing of his cock.
Charles' doesn't speak, but his thoughts rush into Erik's mind loud and garbled, all crowded on top of each other — for fuck's sake overlayed with in my mouth and nownownow .
Erik climbs back onto the bed, not even bothering to pout about Charles not letting him blow him for long. Charles has always been exceptional with his mouth; Erik's not going to complain about any opportunity to stuff it full.
They both shift up the bed so Erik can lean on the headboard if he needs to — de-aging and incredible physique aside, he's still old . He sits up on his knees, bracketing Charles' upper body with his thighs, and gets his cock level with Charles' face. Charles moans softly and leans in, pressing his face against Erik's thick cock and hefty balls, breathing in his sweet musky scent. His whole body quivers in response, and he grabs Erik's thighs as if he might fall over without them.
Erik grabs the base of his cock to guide it, and smirks as he smears pre across Charles’ jaw and mouth. Charles is sucking it off his lips when Erik slaps his cheek with his cock — not hard, but enough to startle. Charles' mouth drops open obediently and he looks up into Erik's eyes with a dazed, lusty expression. His cheeks are already reddened with desire, as is the bridge of his nose. The angle only highlights just how long Charles' lashes are, and, in the moment, he looks incredibly demure for a man so singularly formidable and obstinate.
The image is too much. A fierce need sears through Erik's body — his face heats, his heart skips a beat. He needs to make Charles’ cheeks scarlet, his lips puffy and used, his gorgeous lashes wet with tears. He needs to feel Charles' wet hot throat struggling and convulsing around his length.
Charles’ jaw slackens further in response to Erik's fevered thoughts and his tongue lolls out, drool quickly gathering around it. His expression is still so sweetly submissive, but his mind drips with coyness: he's sparked that raging desire that Erik keeps locked down, that voracity he loves being the object of, and now he wants to set it alight. His nails dig into Erik's thighs in anticipation, and Erik hisses, spurred into action.
Erik goes slow at first, pushing the head of his cock into Charles' mouth and working his hips there, just letting Charles suck on it. A muffled groan escapes Charles as he starts to set a pace, and he lifts a hand to hold Erik's cock in place as he shifts it further into his mouth.
Erik's cock crowds Charles' throat and his toes curl as he fights the urge to violently buck inside. Now Erik’s the one leaking profusely — he watches Charles’ Adam's apple work up and down as he swallows his precum. He closes his eyes and breathes deep, praying that his stamina holds fast through this — but the slippery heat is so taut around him. Charles breathes evenly through his nose, eyelids nearly shut in ecstasy. He sends no words, just glows with satisfaction, reveling in the sensation of Erik filling up his gullet. Erik finally bottoms out, and the head of his cock presses hard against Charles' limits.
Charles gags once, loud and harsh, and a full-body shudder passes through him. His eyes roll back and his eyelids flutter serenely as he forces himself against Erik's length, making himself gag again and again until his throat assimilates to it and relaxes into wet, rhythmic gulping. Erik watches him with wide eyes, transfixed by the lewd display. An intoxicating mix of pride and razor-sharp desire rises within him.
"Always so hungry for it," Erik muses. "Anyone with sense would've stopped halfway, but you?" His jaw clenches at the sensation of Charles' throat tightening around him. "You want to choke on it."
Charles doesn't respond, just glows brighter.
He blinks up at Erik, lids still hooded, and swallows. Erik gasps, cock trapped in wet, rolling heat. Before he can adjust, Charles starts moving his head, tongue laving all along Erik's girth as it pumps up and down Charles' throat. Erik groans, pitching forward to grab the headboard with both hands. Charles hollows his cheeks and sucks hard when he reaches the base and again when he reaches the head, making Erik shout and buck his hips. Charles' throat mercilessly squeezes and undulates around Erik's throbbing length, and Erik can feel it all throughout his body.
Loud sucking, gagging, and gulping noises fill the room, only drowned out by Erik's sonorous moans and expletives. The squeaking of the headboard joins the cacophony when Charles thinks his first coherent words in a while — fuck my face, darling — and Erik starts doing just that.
Erik removes one hand from the headboard to hold Charles in place while he plows into him. Charles' face is red, his eyes are slightly crossed, tears are rolling down his face — and he's radiating pure bliss. His hands squeeze Erik's taut ass and his nails scratch down Erik's thighs, making them tremble. With each thrust, Erik's desperate need to pull back and drive deeper into that sloppy heat, to feel his balls slap against Charles' spit-covered chin, builds furiously. Charles’ wet limpid eyes and the helpless gurgling of his throat are only making Erik more frenzied, so he grits his teeth and tries to communicate something to Charles before the aching, electric pleasure swelling in his lower abdomen reaches the point of no return.
Charles picks up on the warning, Erik's meager telepathic whine — oh — Erik feels Charles' thoughts shift, change course: an image of him thrusting firmly into Charles' ass, a clenching and pressure somewhere in Charles' body. Charles grips Erik's hips to get him to slow, and starts slowly pulling back from his cock, making wet, greedy suckling noises the whole way.
Charles pulls off Erik's cock (not without a sloppy parting kiss to the head) and collapses back into the pillows, breathing heavily. His lips are parted, red and puffy, drenched in spit and cum, and his face is still flushed and wet. Charles swallows, licks his lips, and wipes tears (along with a bit of snot) away with the back of his hand.
"Sorry," Charles croaks, voice destroyed.
Erik stares at him incredulously.
Charles clears his throat and says, in a less gravelly tone, “As in, I'm sorry I got…. carried awa y there." He gazes up at Erik, the corner of his mouth slanting upward. "Because I do still need you to cum inside me."
Erik sucks in a breath. Stamina, he reminds himself. Right . His cock twitches, still dripping in Charles' saliva.
He moves back from where he's been straddling Charles' torso, and Charles sits up on his elbows, looking oddly mischievous. He draws his legs up in front of him, inclines his head, and purrs, "Now, how do you want me, darling?"
"On your hands and knees," Erik replies, and is a bit surprised by the huskiness of his own voice. He's getting more worked up than he realized. And whose fault is that? Erik grouses.
Charles gasps when Erik roughly grabs his waist and starts to manhandle him into position. He can feel Charles laughing in his head, for reasons Erik can’t place until he's turned Charles over and lifted his hips up.
He pauses.
Charles is wearing a butt plug. Shiny, dark blue, and, most importantly, huge.
Erik can’t tell exactly how big the body of it is, but the sizable base and the way Charles’ reddened, puffy rim is twitching around it tells him more than enough. He notes the red marks left on Charles’ ass from where he'd gripped handfuls of it, some just inches away from Charles' stuffed hole, and the sensations and intensified responses he'd picked up from Charles earlier are suddenly recontextualized. Charles is visibly shaking, trying to keep himself still and calm, but the second Erik puts a hand on his ass, a garbled groan breaks past his lips and he immediately shoves his ass into Erik's touch. His hole undulates with a vengeance around the huge intruder, and the base of the plug bobs up and down in tandem.
God, Erik needs to be inside him.
Oh, I concur, Charles replies.
Erik pinches the swell of Charles' ass in response, earning him an indignant yelp. The beginning of a retort rises in Charles' throat, but his mind sputters to a stop when he feels Erik's cock, now at full mast, press against his ass and smear a mixture of precum and Charles’ spit across his cheeks.
Charles whimpers and tries to wiggle his ass against him, but Erik isn't having it. He shoves Charles' front down into the mattress with a firm hand at his shoulders, and with the other he grabs a handful of Charles' plush ass to fully expose his stuffed hole. Erik’s thumb circles the plug lightly and smears through the lube seeping around it. “Is this why you’ve been such a harlot tonight?” He bites the inside of his cheek, mind frothing as he pictures Charles secretly bearing down on the plug during dinner, like a well-prepared escort looking forward to a long night. He presses the pad of his thumb down on the base.
“ Ooooh — you know I’ve — guhh! — a-always been like this,” Charles replies, shuddering underneath him. His voice is slightly muffled by the pillows, and Erik looks up to enjoy the image of Charles' profile and torso pressed into the bed by his hand. “This body is new. I had to make sure I was ready to take that absolute weapon of yours."
Erik isn't prepared for the flood of images that Charles spills into his mind — Charles in a bed, laying in a similar position to the one he's in now, reaching back to pump a huge dildo in and out of his hole, face screwed up in pleasure; Charles in the shower fucking himself back on a dildo suctioned to the wall, holding onto the railing for dear life, sobbing out Erik's name —
Erik grits his teeth through the lusty haze, hooks his fingers under the base of the plug and pulls, like he's heeling a dog. The images shut off immediately, interrupted with a psychic shout of shock and pleasure. Erik breathes, relieved — because any more of that and this would be over before it began. Charles whimpers as Erik continues tugging the plug out, teasing his rim.
Charles' filled hole makes obscene sloppy noises as Erik maneuvers the plug, squelching and spluttering as lube escapes and runs down the curve of Charles' ass. Charles’ hole clings to the plug with each movement, making the base twitch in Erik's fingers. He mewls as he helplessly rocks his hips back and forth, like he's unsure whether he wants Erik to push it in or take it out. Erik decides he should have a bit of both. He lightly tugs the plug out, pushes it back in, and repeats, treating Charles to a shallow, rhythmic fuck. Charles freezes in place and just shakes, bitten-red lips parting into a perfect "O" as the ruddy blush on his face travels down his shoulders and back.
" Ohhh God, oh yes, Erik …" Charles sobs out, and with Erik's hands more occupied he starts trying to move his ass against him again. "Please Erik, please — oh — fuck, please.”
"Please what," Erik replies, voice remarkably even for how hard he is, how enraptured he is by Charles' supple quivering body. Charles positions his head so he can look back at him. Charles' needy gaze and wet, flushed face easily ensnare Erik, and his resolve to keep drawing this out begins to crumble.
"Please fuck me, " Charles whimpers, pleads . Only Erik gets to hear him like this — so desperate, so vulnerable.
"I am fucking you, am I not?" Erik grits out. He's pulled the plug out more than half way — Charles could be gaping now, the plug is so big, but he's clamped tight around it, like his body is desperate for something, anything to fill him.
Really? This game? Charles sends, annoyance coloring his thoughts. "You know exactly what I mean, Erik, this isn't enou—”
Erik cuts him off by sliding the plug back into him in one smooth, firm movement, the blunt end of it slamming mercilessly into Charles' prostate. Charles yelps, sobs, and shuts his eyes tight. His legs tremble through the wave of radiating pleasure, so intense it hurts, and Erik keeps a firm grip on his midriff to ensure he doesn't fall over. Erik rubs his back reassuringly and murmurs, "I'm not sure I follow. What do you need, exactly, Charles?"
Charles moans brokenly. It's the exact type of trick he likes playing on Erik, forcing him to admit his needs out loud, filth and all. Any other day he'd be stubborn, figure out how to brat his way into getting what he wants how he wants, but he's too lustdrunk and cockhungry to care anymore. He's missed this too much, being wrapped in Erik, being full of Erik. He needs it.
Charles pants wordlessly for a few moments, getting his bearings, and then says in a rush, voice rough with desire and desperation — “I, I need your cock deep inside me, Erik, I need you to fuck me til I can't speak, til I can't think, til I can't breathe, I need you to bully my insides, fill me up with your cum, I need it spilling from me — I, I need — oh Erik, damn you, please, just —"
Erik’s jaw works once, twice, and in a single movement, he tugs the plug clean out of Charles' ass. Charles’ mouth falls open in surprise, and his stretched, newly empty hole gapes open for a long moment before clenching up tight. Lube rolls down his perineum as he chokes on air, stunned by the sensation of his hole's involuntary, winking contractions. So open for me, Erik hums, and shares what he's seeing. Charles' mind shimmers with something like pride.
Erik palms Charles’ torso and turns Charles over to face him, making sure he has a front row seat to all the lewd expressions Charles will make when he fucks his way inside. Charles is dazed and dizzy with lust, but he catches on quickly and raises his legs. Erik hauls Charles' legs up and maneuvers his cock with his free hand, cursing under his breath as it throbs under the barest stimulation. Charles stares down at it, panting and whimpering with anticipation as he watches it throb against his ass.
I need you, I need you — yes, that's it, that's — yesyesyes, ohhh fuck —
Charles' eyes roll back and his lids slide closed when the fat head of Erik's cock pushes against his hole. His body resists at first out of reflex, but it only takes a few firm, unforgiving rolls of Erik's hips before Erik's cock is stretching him and his slippery, fucked-open hole is clenching and pulling around it. Erik's eyes squeeze shut and his teeth bare as he struggles to acclimate to the rippling, soaking heat massaging his length. His hips spasm and his body trembles with the desire to lose himself, to violently piston in and out of Charles like a fucksleeve. Charles catches the thought, and his mind sparks with a mix of amusement and interest.
After a moment to get his bearings, Erik carefully presses his hips into Charles, and moans low as his girth slots deeper inside him. Charles is barely able to string together words, just sensation and thought, and shares it in waves: the burn of his tight canal stretching to accommodate Erik's girthiness, the slight, pleasurable sensation of his cock’s pulsing veins, the drag and catch of the ridge of Erik's glans against so many sensitive, untouched spots. Erik pants above Charles’ shoulder, the hot, intimate feedback of Charles’ body washing down his spine.
God, Erik…, Charles think-murmurs after a long moment. He moans and shudders as Erik pulls back to thrust in again, and looks down between them. You're just halfway, aren't you?
About, Erik responds, shortly. Charles smiles and bites his lip. He can feel Erik's resolve shaking, how much Erik is holding back, wanting to make sure Charles is comfortable, even if Charles has been stretched wide open by that plug, even if Erik feels like he'll explode if he doesn't get deeper in Charles’ ass soon.
What a gentleman, he purrs. I'm loose enough for it, so I'll take pity on you . Charles looks up at Erik with sultry eyes; Erik silently meets his gaze with an intensity that would make anyone but Charles falter.
Charles just quirks an eyebrow. Well, go on, then. Use me .
Erik doesn't wait to ask Charles if he's sure. He lifts Charles’ ass so fast that Charles yips, and thrusts in without restraint, punching a loud, guttural groan out of Charles. Charles clings to him, quickly crossing his legs behind Erik's back, as Erik starts to fuck his way deep inside. Charles' head lolls back while Erik pants harshly into his neck, forcing his cock further into his rippling heat, reveling in Charles’ wild cries and gasps.
They both groan loud and long when Erik finally bottoms out, nearly drowning out the harsh slap of Erik's heavy balls meeting Charles' ass. They're still for a long moment, breathing harshly, utterly tangled in each other.
Charles tosses his head back into the pillows, body seizing as the pressure of Erik's cock deep inside makes him squirt little jets of milky pre from his drooling, swollen cock. Erik pants heavily, momentarily drowning in the tight ecstasy of his whole cock buried inside Charles, balls twitching minutely against Charles' ass. Charles' insides pull at Erik, as if demanding he push even deeper. Charles' thoughts are no better, dragging him in, all obscene images and sensations and trains of thought — I can feel you in my fucking guuuut — fuck me use meee — I’ve needed this I’ve always needed this never pull out, never — a fuzzy sequence of Erik plowing Charles' ass so rough and so deep that their balls are kissing with every thrust, Charles wailing Erik's name hoarsely, he's been shouting it for hours — the film reel exchanges, now Erik’s shooting his thick cum inside him, Charles sobs and hiccups, feels it joining the two other messy loads Erik’s filled him with — Erik pulls back from the whirlpool of fantasy, shivering.
He has a feeling Charles won't be letting him up from this bed any time soon.
Charles titters deliriously and clenches tightly around him. In no mood for teasing, Erik pulls back to give Charles a deep and particularly unforgiving thrust.
" Ungh, " Charles grunts, going a little cross-eyed.
That's what I thought, Erik sends and Charles just grins lazily, like a Cheshire Cat.
Erik takes a deep breath and starts moving his hips at a leisurely pace, letting his eyes flutter closed at the sensation of wet heat crowding around his cock. Charles groans with every press forward. His eyebrows knit together and lips part, shaking as Erik's girth massages his prostate and stretches him wide. His legs tighten behind Erik's back, trying to pull him closer. Erik obliges, and Charles whimpers when he feels Erik's solid stomach rub over the head of his leaking cock.
Erik dips his head to spread sucking kisses at Charles neck, growling at how soft his skin is and how easy it is to make Charles gasp and whine.
Oh that’s going to bruise, Charles muses, and Erik grins, picturing Charles walking around with pink, purpling marks peaking over his collar. He sinks his teeth in and suckles harder, a wave of possessiveness overtaking him, and Charles gasps when Erik's cock pulses inside him in tandem. Erik's hands revisit his abused nipples and Charles lifts his chest, moaning shamelessly.
Erik moves up to Charles' mouth, kissing him open-mouthed and sloppy as he rubs Charles' nipples. Erik's ability to take this slow has entirely dissipated — the wet sound of spit swapping, Charles' sticky pre-cum smearing against his stomach, the filthy, euphoric expressions Charles' makes every time Erik pushes inside, the way Charles’ inner walls ripple around Erik's cock, Charles’ body and mind still demanding more of Erik, needing more of Erik — he's helpless to his own response, the way his hips jerk and fuck and chase after the prize of Charles' ecstasy. He can feel Charles loosening underneath him, physically and mentally, and he wants, needs, to ruin him completely.
Charles is clearly listening to his thoughts, as he immediately starts begging, pushing back against him. More, harder, I'm ready. Break me, Erik.
Erik roughly rubs the pads of his fingers over the sensitive center of Charles' nipples, and Charles cries out into their openmouthed kisses.
Please, Charles whines, and now it's not with words but with something more primal, more sublime — astral — tugging and grasping at Erik’s self with unending, greedy desire.
Erik holds Charles down into the mattress and shifts their positions so he can give Charles an even deeper fuck. Charles gasps when Erik heaves his legs onto his shoulders and whimpers when Erik leans in, folding Charles in half. With a hand at his waist, Erik readjusts Charles onto his cock, slotting himself deeper inside and punching a deep husky groan out of Charles. Erik cries out, overwhelmed by the way Charles' hole clamps tight around him. Charles clings to him tightly, panting and lapping at his jawline as his mind shivers and luxuriates against Erik's. Erik’s eyelids flutter as Charles slowly melts into him; his clarity returns.
Erik adjusts Charles in his arms, rocks his hips up into him, and chases after that delicious tight drag against his cock. Charles' pulsing canal feels as if it was made for him to reshape. Charles wails and moans and cries without shame, reveling in the intensity of Erik coring him like an apple, battering his prostate and massaging every sensitive nerve. He claws at Erik’s back for dear life as his brutal thrusts increase with enough pace and force to make the bed shake and creak. He needs Erik anchoring him body and mind; only Erik brings him to this level of delirium, fucked til he can’t speak, til his mind is finally blank and consumed in bliss.
Erik touches his forehead to Charles’ as all of their senses align. Charles rides the waves of Erik's fevered thoughts — sharp, hungry possessiveness and obsession crisscrossed with adoration, unbearable building fullness as his cock is milked and tugged. Charles feeds him his own — the pleasure pulsating from his throbbing, swollen insides, his stuffed and stretched hole feeling so vulnerable and fucked open, the distinctive clarity he feels when Erik thoroughly wrecks him. Sensations blur and mix — Erik's hole tightens around nothing, Charles' hips jerk uncontrollably, Erik's nipples sing with excruciating sensitivity, Charles' cock throbs with a building fullness. Charles moans as he sinks into their shared pleasure, letting his eyes flutter closed as their minds finally intertwine. He feels complete for the first time since he came back.
They share the thought as it forms, and Erik chokes off a sob, overcome with Charles' emotion. His eyes water and screw shut as everything keeps building. Erik's balls swing and slap off Charles' cheeks in rapid succession, and Charles' whole body clenches up thinking about the inevitable flood of seed it will release for him. His cock twitches and performs a particularly intense jump into the air, slapping against Erik's stomach. Dazed, Charles looks down between them to see his swollen, chubby cock pulsing in a sizable, wavering pool of milky precum on his stomach.
An intoxicating wave of humiliation overcomes him: so embarrassingly wet, so thoroughly fucked, such a whore his prick can't help but drool at the slightest touch, forget about a pounding. It all crowds against the mounting overstimulation burning deep inside him. Another small sob escapes Charles' throat as his eyes roll back, everything suddenly far too much. Erik is too synced with him not to notice where he is, that special off-balance place Erik knows all too well. It's perfect for dragging Charles kicking and screaming to the edge, just how he likes it.
Erik makes a split second decision, too fast for Charles to catch, not in this state. Erik abruptly sits upright and heaves Charles into his lap — Charles yelps, limbs flying — and, aided by gravity, he pounds into him from a new angle, one that pitches his cock right where Charles needs it at that moment, scaldingly intense pressure that brings tears to his eyes, that makes him feel incandescent; his whole body convulses and tightens up; white-hot stars, crackling electricity branching in Charles' mind —
He's coming and it's intense, rapturous, exquisite, shattering him into pieces, just as he'd anticipated, there was no other way it could be with them, especially after all this time —
The part of Charles that can still think is dimly aware that he is wailing, crooning, that his nails are tearing down Erik's back and definitely drawing blood, that his cock is squirting cum so hard it's jumping and slapping Erik's stomach again.
Erik can't stay upright the way Charles is projecting, much less try to hold back his own impending orgasm. Even so, he's still caught on the precipice, like all his senses are holding their breath, struggling to process his own experience, to parse himself from Charles. He can barely inch his way towards his own release, flattened by the gravity of Charles' ecstasy. It's excruciating; it's euphoric. He feels wetness on his cheeks. His cock jerks helplessly in the vice grip of Charles' ass.
Charles is cross-eyed, drooling, and still whimpering like an injured animal, but his mind is attending to Erik’s in an instant, soothing him back into his body with words strung between images and feelings. Erik clumsily presses his face into Charles’ shoulder, heedless, outgoing communication nothing but white noise. Charles presses their foreheads together again, panting.
Come for me darling, let go, give me everything — Charles’ raging need to have Erik's essence buried inside him bubbles to the surface again — you’ve ruined me so well, claim me as yours, darling . He feeds him a memory of Erik's balls seizing against his ass, like he's trying to make Erik a roadmap between the past and the present and the future of liquid heat filling him up fast and hard, and for good measure he purrs: breed me like the bitch in heat I am.
All of it is more than enough, but the last bit — that particular kink they don't discuss but they both know is so very present —
A broken noise escapes Erik's throat, abrupt as an atom split. His hips press home one last time as he finally fills Charles up with his seed. They collapse back into the prone position, still holding each other close, and Erik hunches over Charles, growling and rutting into him. The springs in the bed vibrate intensely, the pipes scream and rattle, and Charles faintly registers some loud clattering from the en suite kitchen. Charles sinks into Erik's mind and rides the waves with him, reveling in how different but similar it is — the relief that comes from that final collision, the filthy satisfaction of Charles taking his cum, the way their psychic rapport rattles his bones and brain. Charles’ softening cock twitches in sympathy, and lazily spurts pearly slick.
Erik growls above him, face so gorgeously screwed up in ecstasy. Charles lets his head loll back into the pillows as Erik continues to pack him full of hot, thick cum, his balls tensing against Charles’ battered pink cheeks. He purrs into Erik's straining bicep, eyes sliding shut, always pleased when he can draw a long, intense orgasm out of Erik. Cum starts to forcefully leak out of Charles’ hole once he's filled to the brim, so he stubbornly clamps his hole around Erik's cock, struggling to keep it all inside. Charles rolls his hips and works his inner muscles dutifully, heedless of Erik's whines of overstimulation, set on milking him completely dry.
The psychic high tapers off after a few more moments and they both settle into a deep, cozy bliss. Erik whines deep in his throat when his cock spurts the last of his cum, and sags over Charles as he fights to catch his breath. Charles immediately tightens his legs around Erik's waist, just in case he gets any bright ideas about moving instead of keeping his cum warm and snug inside him. Where it belongs.
Erik chuckles breathlessly, and settles against him. Charles simpers, enjoying the pressure of Erik's heavy, sweaty body on top of his own, and captures his lips in a lazy kiss. The room is quiet for a long, peaceful moment: just the sound of their frantic breathing slowing down, and the wet noises of languid sloppy kisses.
“God,” Charles breathes against Erik’s lips, eyes fluttering open to stare into his. “I’m happy to be alive.” His tone is credulous, and he blinks rapidly after the last word leaves his mouth, as if he’s surprised he’s said it out loud.
Erik's eyebrow twitches almost imperceptibly, and his gaze is suddenly too much, too perceptive, too piercing.
Charles quickly turns away. Deflection hard-coded, he has a delirious thought to spin together a quip about Paris and resurrection and tourists, but his tears come faster than his words can.
Charles' quickly dampening cheeks flush with embarrassment. Being too fragile, bringing the mood down — but Erik's mind is all love, all concern. There's also an undercurrent of relief, and déjà vu washes over Charles as he finds himself on the other side of what is usually his game. Erik's wanted him to open up all day, but Charles is afraid that, in practice, opening up would be more like breaking into pieces, and that's exactly why he's avoided it. Defenses crumbling as Erik strokes his side, the memories and emotions that have kept him awake for days flicker through his mind, and he tries his best not to hide them.
In those last “centuries”, Charles survived by the skin of his teeth, his knights well-trained in guerilla warfare, his pawns becoming suicide bombers. An eternal excruciating stalemate. Escape stratagems collapsed in on themselves, the concept of “checkmate” dissipated into fantasy, and he had begun to wonder why he was playing at all. Why not succumb? Why spend, months, years, decades, watching facsimiles of everything and everyone he’d once held dear tear themselves apart? Why even attempt to return to a wasted life of pain, loneliness, and so many broken promises? When he fell into these dark musings, Farouk would smile wide and hold out a hand, ready to guide his head into the noose. We can knock over the board whenever you're ready, Xavier.
True joy never comes easy for Charles. Even with everything being so new — brighter and louder and faster and more — his mind still feels worn. A shiny new machine running nothing but archaic, compressed files. Will all the resurrected feel the same?
But Erik, having Erik, so entirely, so simply — it's every good thing he's forgotten, made implicit, every good thing he's never been able to have, never allowed himself to have, finally made possible.
Charles clears his throat, trying to wipe his eyes dry. Really should have asked Jean a bit more about — what was it she said — the light that comes in when the coffin opens?
Erik's mind colors with understanding, and Charles startles a bit as he looks up from his stupor and into Erik's mind — trembling with the pain Charles shared, righteous anger for Charles bubbling up for him, alongside quiet wonder at Charles' resilience.
I’m also happy you're alive, Erik sends. His arms tighten around Charles, and a wave of protectiveness nearly bowls Charles over. I will not leave your side again. He gives Charles a soft kiss, as if sealing a promise.
“Oh. Well,” Charles mumbles, and promptly turns to cry into the crook of Erik's shoulder. Erik rubs his back soothingly, kissing his ear, the top of his head, his brow.
Is this a side effect of coming back to life, do you think? Delayed outbursts of emotion? Charles thinks. Mind you, I'm crying with your cum inside me. He listens to Erik's steady, constant heartbeat.
It wouldn't be the first time, Erik muses. Charles laughs shakily and Erik smiles down at him, eyes soft with adoration.
Speaking of, Erik says after a moment. He shifts his hips, making Charles gasp, and he winces. Do you want me to —
Charles sighs reluctantly. “Yes, yes, go ahead.” Erik kisses his ear again, and grips Charles' hips as he starts to pull out. There's a loud, wet suctioning noise, followed by Charles moaning quietly as Erik's warm cum floods out of his gaping, swollen hole. He rolls Erik off of him, clenching and trying his best not to leak more onto the sheets.
Erik takes a shuddering breath, his softening, cum-drenched cock laying against Charles' sticky thighs. Shower?
Shower.
They hold each other under piping hot water, Charles soaping the scratches his fingernails have left on Erik's back, Erik gently scrubbing around the purpling hickies at Charles' neck. Charles can't help but get on his knees to slowly soap his juices off Erik's cock and balls, basking in Erik's imperious, watchful gaze; in return, when Charles is distracted hosing down his hole, Erik gives Charles’ backside a surprise smack so good it almost makes him drop the showerhead.
“I meant what I said about new beginnings,” Charles murmurs later, when they're both dozing in bed, cuddled together in warm hotel robes. He laces his fingers with Erik's.
Erik turns onto his side to face him fully. “Yes.” Erik brings their entwined hands to his lips and kisses their knuckles. “A resurrection of our own.”