Chapter Text
Erik caught Charles' eye from across the room. He was talking to an old Oxford acquaintance, someone Hank had liked enough to invite to the wedding. Erik hadn't had a formal introduction, but he recognized the man from when Charles had pointed him out, telling Erik that Professor Villeneuve had been influential in Charles' decision to go into genetics. The man had to be in his eighties at this point.
Save me, Charles' voice filled Erik's head. It was clear, even from this distance, that Charles was profoundly miserable. Villeneuve may have been influential, but from Charles' stories, he was also extremely long-winded. Erik set his glass--mineral water--down on a waiter's passing tray, and started navigating the crowd to reach Charles' side.
It honestly surprised him, especially given what he knew of Hank--and Charles--that so many people had come. Charles' ballroom--and it still amused him that Charles had a ballroom--was overflowing with people, a good number of whom had come from Genosha. He caught sight of Mystique and Destiny out on the dance floor, and over in the corner Cyclops and Jean Grey were attempting to find some privacy. Gambit and Rogue had disappeared the second the dinner was cleared. Erik had no doubts as to what they were doing--though how they managed it with her mutation, he didn't know.
"I can't honestly say I'm willing to trust every mutant I meet, but you and Hank seem harmless enough, so I suppose there are always exceptions," Erik heard Villeneuve say.
Erik let the smile he'd adopted for Charles grow teeth.
"You don't say," he said when he reached Charles' side. He reached out with his power and tugged at Villeneuve's cuff links. The man's eyes grew wide and he glanced from Charles to Erik and then back again. It was clear he didn't pay attention to current events, because he obviously had no idea who Erik was, or even who Charles had become.
Erik, Charles chided inside his head, but Erik could tell he was pleased. He was developing a surprisingly low tolerance for people who showed prejudice towards mutants--even old university professors whom he had once admired. Erik congratulated himself.
Villeneuve, suddenly uncomfortable now that he was faced with a new mutant, made a hasty excuse about congratulating the bride and groom, and fled.
"The party is winding down anyway," Erik said, unapologetic.
Charles shook his head, but he didn't stop smiling, and he didn't chastise Erik for scaring the locals. Instead he inclined his head towards the patio doors that opened onto the veranda. Erik nodded his acceptance and gestured for Charles to lead the way.
It was still early in the year, and although the snow had long since melted, the night air held a slight hint of chill. Erik breathed deeply, sliding the door shut to both keep out the cold and keep in the vibrant sounds of merriment. Charles had floated himself to the railing and was looking out over the grounds, a soft smile pulling at his lips.
"It's been so busy, I feel like I haven't had a chance just to sit back and relax," he said.
Erik came to stand at his side, thinking better of it a moment later. He turned and sat on the railing, facing towards the house and, more importantly, Charles.
"I had no idea wedding planning required so much work. I say we elope."
Charles laughed at that, smile growing fond. It still surprised him, that Charles was serious about wanting to marry him. It seemed Charles was just as surprised that Erik had agreed--that Erik hadn't forgotten about the promise the second they'd left Genosha. He was staring at Erik now like he couldn't quite fathom where Erik had come from--or how he had gotten so lucky. Erik was intimately familiar with the expression; he'd worn its twin more times than he could count in the past few months.
"We should possibly go in," Erik said, noticing then that Charles' exposed flesh had turned to gooseflesh.
Charles nodded, but instead of heading back into the house, he turned to stare down the gravel pathway that circled the house. The wide oak that Erik now knew was a favourite spot of Charles' was only just beginning to bloom, leaf buds curling open in a testament to new beginnings. Erik was momentarily struck with the memory of finding Charles under that same tree, autumn having stained its leaves scarlet red. It still astonished him how quickly, and thoroughly, his life had changed since then.
"I've missed this place," Charles said, and he sounded surprised, like the thought hadn't occurred to him until now. Erik pushed himself off the railing and came to stand at Charles' side, staring out into the night.
"You know, we could summer here. Genosha's lovely in the winter, but it's hot as hell in the summer. It might be nice to alternate between the two."
He could tell Charles was smiling even without looking down--he could feel it in his head, the Charles-shaped presence radiating contentment.
"I'd like that," Charles said, reaching out to take Erik's hand. "Now let's go in."
Erik gave Charles hand a brief squeeze, tugging him towards the door. He let his smile grow mischievous.
"You know, it is getting late." It wasn't really, at least, not for a wedding, but Erik was hoping Charles would ignore that bit. "Perhaps we should retire. I've been dying to peel you out of that tux ever since you put it on."
Tonight was the first time he had seen Charles in black tie. He hadn't even worn a tux for his Symposium speech--and God, that felt like such a long time ago now. There was something almost irresistible about Charles; head freshly shaved, eyes bright and amused, wearing a well-tailored tux that had undoubtedly cost a fortune. His shirt, linen white, collar perfectly starched, framed a neat bowtie, making him look dignified and dangerous in a way his tweed never would.
Not that Erik hadn't grown to love the tweed--he had--but there was something about Charles in a tux that rather short-circuited his brain. He was looking forward to taking Charles somewhere private, away from all these prying eyes.
Charles laughed at the statement, bright and happy.
"I assure you, love, you look far, far better in yours." He let Erik see then, the image that appeared in Erik's head far too perfect to belong to him. This was how Charles saw him--some sculpted, Greek-like God, cut as much from marble as flesh and blood. Erik shook his head, pleasantly flattered.
He tightened his grip on Charles' hand and dragged him back into the house, through the ballroom and towards the wide double doors that exited into the hall. Every person they passed ignored their going--save Logan, who only smirked in their direction--and Erik knew he had Charles to thank for that. They'd been in Westchester two weeks and had only christened Charles' bed--their bed, Erik thought fiercely--a dozen times. As far as Erik was concerned, that was bordering on criminal. The last thing he wanted was someone interrupting their leaving.
He led Charles to the lift near the front doors--though Charles' chair's new telepathic interface could have easily floated him up the stairs. Erik wanted to conserve his energy, though, so he ignored the protest Charles was projecting at him, forced them onto the lift, and let machinery take them up to their bedroom.
It had taken him several days to learn he lay of the place, Erik getting lost more than a few times in those first few days--and he knew now how Charles must have felt when he first came to Genosha--than he had at any other point in his life. He knew the house now, intimately, every corner of it as familiar a home as Genosha could ever be.
He thought he might enjoy spending his summers here.
Their room--which was originally Charles' room, though Erik could not picture Charles sleeping in the king-sized bed alone--was not the largest on the floor--that was currently being used as the honeymoon suite--but it was a fair size, warm and comfortable in a way their apartment in Genosha was only now starting to feel. Erik crossed to the bed, pulling down the covers on both sides before reaching up to loosen his bowtie.
"No, leave it," Charles said, projecting an image that stole Erik's breath while simultaneously hardening his cock. Erik let his hands fall away, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He arched an eyebrow in Charles' direction.
Charles excused himself only briefly--and Erik was used to this; he let Charles' absence feed his anticipation. When Charles returned, he was still wearing his tux, still immaculately pressed. He floated over to where Erik was sitting, letting his chair rise until they were sitting face to face. Charles reached across and ran his thumbs along the creases of Erik's tie.
"You can't even imagine how badly I've wanted to do this. All night, Erik, since you first stepped out of that bathroom and asked me to straighten your tie."
With that, Charles gave a gentle tug, and Erik's tie came unravelled. Erik felt heat creep up his spine. Charles licked his lips, even as his pupils dilated. It took all of Erik's willpower not to simply reach for Charles, to drag him into Erik's lap. The last time he'd done such a thing, Charles had given him a firm lecture--though Erik was still convinced Charles had enjoyed the experience.
Next, Charles started on the buttons of Erik's jacket, pulling the lapels aside when he was done to get to Erik's vest. Every motion was slow and deliberate--this was Charles taking his time, savouring the moment. Erik leaned back onto his hands, pressed out his chest, and let Charles work.
His shirt came next, Charles gesturing him up so that he could pull it from Erik's pants. He undid each tiny, pearl-carved button with such care, such devotion, that Erik's mouth went dry, his entire body humming with desire. He pushed Erik's shirt open, Erik allowing himself to be distracted only long enough to push the jacket, vest and shirt over his shoulders, shrugging out of the offending garments until he was sitting only in his trousers and undershirt. Charles smiled--a little appreciatively, Erik thought--and reached for Erik's belt.
"You always strip for me," Charles said, "but you never let me strip you." He slid Erik's belt out from around his pants, the movement agonizingly slow, until finally it was free from all the loops. Charles tossed it onto the ground.
"That's only because I'm impatient," Erik said, earning one of Charles' genuine chuckles.
"You don't say," he said, gesturing for Erik to stand now.
Erik stood, moving forward until his knees were brushing against Charles' chair.
Charles let his gaze trail up Erik's torso, then back down again until he was staring at the outline of Erik's erection. He wet his lip a second time, and then reached for the clasp on Erik's pants. Erik hastily toed off his shoes as Charles slid the clasps apart. Charles pulled the fabric apart while Erik shimmied his hips, until the material slid down his legs, leaving Erik in only his undershirt, boxers and socks.
At a gesture from Charles, he sat back on the bed, shifting back until he was sitting cross-legged in the middle. Charles brought his chair forward until his knees brushed the edge of the mattress. He reached up to tug at his bowtie.
This wasn't the first time Charles had stripped for him, but the occasions were few and far between. No matter how comfortable Charles got--with their relationship, with his limitations--he always seemed a little nervous about Erik watching him undress. There was none of his usual hesitance now. He caught Erik's eye and held his gaze, slowly stripping away his layers until he was nude from the waist up. Erik watched, transfixed, reveling at the slow reveal of milky-white flesh.
When Charles was left only in his trousers, he transferred neatly onto the bed, positioning himself so that he was leaning against the headboard. Erik was on him in an instant, hands coming to his pants, flicking open their fastenings with his power as he tugged the material over Charles' hips and down his legs. They got caught on his shoes, so Erik stripped those off, tossing them onto the floor. Charles' boxers and socks followed a minute behind.
"I think you have me at a disadvantage, my friend," Charles said, eyeing the clothes Erik still wore. Erik grinned; then pulled his undershirt over his head even as he reached for his boxers. When he was naked, he crawled into Charles' lap.
"Better?" he asked, earning one of Charles' genuine smiles.
Charles had been inside his head for the better part of the night, a warm, weighted presence that Erik had grown so used to it physically hurt whenever they were forced to sever the link. He surged to the forefront now, occupying Erik's mind in a way he only ever did when they were in bed. The sensation was as arousing as the feel of Charles pinned beneath him. Erik shivered, and then leaned forward to press their lips together.
Charles tasted like the cranberry juice he'd been drinking before Erik had dragged him away from the reception. Beneath it, a slight hint of chocolate--Hank and Linda's cake--and something Erik could only identify as Charles. Erik moaned into the kiss, letting his hands come up to frame Charles' face. Charles surged forward, nipping at Erik's bottom lip even as he pulled Erik firmly against his body and into his mind. The division between them ceased to exist.
They'd experimented, once, at the end of one of the rescue missions Erik had gone on without Charles. Charles had used Cerebro to link their minds, and when Erik had fallen asleep--strapped inside his Blackbird chair--Charles had pulled him onto the astral plane. It was easily the best flight of Erik's life, though he'd woken to six pair of eyes staring at him in horror-struck amusement. Apparently he talked in his sleep.
Charles didn't drag them there now, seeming content to simply piggy-back on Erik's sensations, creating a feedback loop between them that heightened every touch and intensified every emotion. Acting on impulse that was half his, half Charles', Erik shifted down until he was braced on either side of Charles knees. He reached for Charles' waist, grabbing Charles just above the hips, pulling until Charles was sprawled across the pillows. He leaned forward then and licked a stripe from Charles' navel to his right nipple. Charles moaned beneath him.
"I think I'd like to kiss every inch of you," Erik said into the space between them, taking his time to do exactly that.
He began with Charles' waist, kissing and licking and biting his way across the soft expanse of Charles' stomach. He followed the line of Charles' ribs, kissing along his sides, then up and over to kiss across his chest. When he reached the place just below Charles' breastbone, Charles chuckle and tried to shift away.
"No cheating," Erik said, the words a challenge. Charles stilled instantly, pulsing amusement and want across their link.
In the first few months of their relationship, their every encountered was hurried and frantic, Erik's need for Charles--his desperation--stripping him of any finesse he might have otherwise possessed. Somewhere along the way Erik had settled and now he was free to take his time, to make each encounter as slow and as leisurely as he liked--though occasionally, particularly after a mission, he reverted back to frenzied thrusting and desperate fucking. For the first time in his life, though, he was learning that sex could be fun. These days he spent more time laughing in bed than he had previously thought possible.
He was fighting a smile now, purposely seeking out every one of Charles' most ticklish spots--the space between his third and fourth ribs, the space just under his arm, set against the musk of his armpit, the hollow of his navel, the backs of his ears; a thousand others that had Charles laughing and squirming while trying so desperately to remain still. He was failing miserably.
"Over," Erik said, when he had touched or kissed or bit or licked every single inch of Charles' torso, neck and face.
He shifted up as he said this, allowing Charles to reach for his legs and slowly roll himself over. Charles folded his arms beneath his chin and titled his head to the side, glancing over his shoulder to meet Erik's eye. He arched an eyebrow, his own challenge.
Charles was not particularly ticklish on his back--this Erik knew--but the game was no longer about getting Charles to squirm. Erik wanted to make Charles writhe in pleasure--to see him come completely undone. He started by finding the place at the back of Charles' neck--the one that always made Charles arch against Erik's lips and shudder out a gasping moan.
Tonight was no exception, Charles going very still, tilting his head forward into the hollow of his arms to grant Erik better access. He shivered, even as he whimpered, the sound carrying throughout the room.
Erik lingered there for several long minutes before trailing his lips down the line of Charles' spine. He let his hands trace patterns across Charles' shoulders as he moved, Charles no longer laughing, his breath having grown shallow, his entire body taut with tension.
Erik stopped only when he reached the mess of scar tissue that framed the boundary between where Charles could feel and where Charles could not.
It had taken Charles months before would allow Erik to linger there--at first Erik had thought the site painful, but Charles had assured him it was not. Now Charles only shifted into the sensation, letting Erik's tongue lave the scar with careful precision.
There was beauty in it, however much Charles thought otherwise--a testament to both the body's ability to heal and its fragility. Erik pulled his tongue away, only to slide two fingers over the wet, saliva-coated
knots that twisted a line down Charles' spine. Beneath him, Charles shivered.
"Can I?" Erik asked, opening his mind so that Charles could see exactly what it was Erik wanted to do. Charles moaned, torso shifting in such a way that Erik knew his answer even before he spoke.
"God yes," Charles still said, so Erik flicked his wrist, opening the nightstand drawer by its metal knob and then floating out the metal canister that hid their lubricant.
This was not something they did often--at least, not outside the astral plane--the process slow and methodical--and Erik knew now that had they tried in those earlier months, he would have undoubtedly hurt Charles in his eagerness. He had mellowed considerably since then, so he now took his time lifting Charles' hips to slide a pillow beneath them before opening the canister to retrieve a tube of lube.
He coated two fingers, and then reached for Charles with his clean hand to spread his cheeks apart. Charles' couldn't yet feel the sensation, so Erik guided him through it with his thoughts, letting Charles watch through Erik's eyes. When his slicked finger reached Charles' hole, he let them circle several times, slowly, before pressing inside--just past the tight ring of muscles.
He played there for a good deal long than was perhaps necessary, but the sight was arousing and Charles was sharing his arousal, so Erik suspected Charles didn't mind that for him the event was without sensation.
"I'm going to breach you now," Erik said, voice hoarse and uneven. He stopped to apply more lube.
His cock sat heavy between his legs, and he wanted more than anything to press into Charles--to fuck him slowly and leisurely until they both fell apart. It didn't work that way, though, so Erik slowly pushed his fingers inside, paying close attention to Charles' half of the link so that he would know the second he passed Charles' threshold.
The spark of pleasure that bloomed in Charles' mind was like a shock to Erik's system, even though he was expecting it. Charles moaned into the pillow. Erik stilled his hand, allowing Charles to simply get used to the sensation. Only when Charles' thoughts settled did Erik push further inside, finding Charles' prostate and rubbing steadily against it.
Charles whimpered, even as his mind flared, liquid heat flowing across the link until Erik was half afraid he might come without ever being touched.
Erik, Erik, Erik, please, Charles shouted into his mind.
"You're not ready yet," Erik said, slowly pulling his fingers free. He added more lubricant and slid them back inside. Charles sobbed into the pillow.
He played with Charles--stretched Charles--for far longer than necessary, Erik too captivated by the sight of Charles--skin flushed red, knuckles white where they clutched at his pillow, sweat beading down his spine--to want to stop. It was only when the voice inside his head--the one begging him for release--fell silent, Charles' telepathy abandoning him in his need, that Erik decided to take pity on him.
He pulled his fingers--three of them now--free and liberally coated his penis with lubricant. After a moment of consideration, he added another pillow beneath Charles' hips.
"Are you ready?" he asked, barely recognizing his voice, so thick was it with desire.
Charles let out an affirmative sounding moan.
It took every ounce of his willpower to slide into Charles slowly--to allow him to become accustom to Erik's girth. He watched himself slide into Charles' body--partly to ensure he didn't tear Charles, but mostly because the sight of his cock, vanishing slowly into the heat of Charles' body, was not something he was capable of tearing his gaze from.
Charles remained perfectly still, though the second Erik crossed his threshold, he hissed, grunting nonsensical words until Erik was fully seated.
"Still," Erik commanded. Charles shivered at the sound of Erik's Magneto voice, but he stilled.
Waiting--oh God, waiting--was painful, but Erik waited, letting Charles stretch around him. He waited until the tension drained from Charles' shoulders--clenched hands releasing their death grip on the pillow--and then pulled back until his tip slid past Charles' boundary. He applied a little more lube, and slid back inside. He wasn't going to last--he never did when they did this--but that was okay, because neither was Charles.
Charles was breathing heavily now, pleasure spiked so high that all Erik could feel from Charles' half of the link was white-hot need. He was purposely redirecting the sensation of Erik inside him, so that Erik could feel what he was doing--experience Charles' pleasure--without feeling like he himself was being penetrated. That wavered now, Charles struggling to keep all his wires straight. Erik pulled out, and slid back inside.
"Almost there," he said, both a promise and a warning. Charles keened, a high, desperate sound that echoed throughout the room. Anyone standing outside their door would know exactly what they were doing. For once, Erik didn't care.
He expected to have at least a few more thrusts in him--to be able to take his time taking Charles across the line--but when he pulled back the third time, Charles slipped from his grasp, spiraling into his orgasm with little more than a hoarse shout. Erik's hips stuttered, his body growing taut as he rode Charles' completion, entire body tingling and throbbing even as his cocked throbbed and pulsed inside Charles' body, spilling his seed too near the surface to do anything but make an incredible mess. Charles' orgasm was so overwhelming--so blinding--that Erik missed his own. It marked the first time Charles had come before him. The sensation was dizzying.
"Sorry, sorry," Charles was saying, half in words, and half in Erik's mind.
Erik shushed him, taking a moment to catch his breath before he slowly withdrew--so very careful not to hurt Charles on the way out. Semen dribbled out of Charles' hole, spilling between his legs to pool against the underside of his balls. Erik's cock twitched at the sight. He flopped down heavily on the bed at Charles' side.
"That was unexpected," he said when he could talk, but he let Charles feel the pleasure of his surprise--the delight in having pushed Charles over before Erik was ready. Charles grunted beside him, undoubtedly already slipping into slumber--he had a tendency to whenever he'd pushed his telepathy to its limits.
Erik mustered some strength from somewhere deep inside. He wiped his fingers on the sheets and then pushed himself out of the bed, crossing to the bathroom, where he washed his hands and cleaned himself off, then wet a hand towel. He returned to the bed and used it to clean Charles as best he could.
"You can't sleep yet," he said, Charles grunting a second time, but he knew perfectly well the danger involved in ignoring this, so he rolled himself over and then pushed up into his elbows. His stomach--and the pillows--was sticky with come. Erik folded the hand towel in half and used it to clean Charles' stomach.
"This is the only time I really hate not being able to walk," Charles said.
It took a good deal longer than usual for him to transfer into his chair. He gave Erik his best self-deprecating smile as he set the chair onto the ground, using the wheels to wheel himself into the bathroom. Erik chuckled, pleased to see he had worn Charles out so thoroughly that he wasn't even capable of using his telepathy to guide his chair.
While Charles was seeing to his needs, Erik set about stripping the sheets--they were beyond salvaging, which tended to happen when they did this. It was worth it though, even if his head was still spinning from the intensity of Charles' orgasm. More than anything he wanted to collapse into a heap and sleep until noon the next day.
He knew Charles better than that, though, so when the bed was freshly changed, he pulled out Charles' chess set--the one he'd given Charles, that Charles had insisted on bringing with them, even though the mansion had numerous sets located throughout. He set it up in the space between his side of the bed and Charles, already contemplating his first move when Charles exited the bathroom. Charles looked exhausted, but his eyes lit up at the sight of the board, and he didn't complain when Erik opened with his usual move--pawn to e5. The opening had yet to win him a game, but tonight Erik was feeling lucky.