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"Checkmate," Erik says curtly, knocking over Charles' queen with a flick of his index finger.
"Ohhh, well played," Charles says with a laugh, seeming more amused to have been beaten than upset. With a smile, he leans forward and studies the pieces, as if they could tell him where he went wrong. Erik has to look down at his hands, holding his empty glass, but cannot hide the small smile on his face. "I think.... the tides turned around my second glass of scotch, didn't they."
"I'm not one to give away my secrets, Charles," Erik says wryly, both of them knowing full well it's a lie. He taps his fingers against his glass. Charles' eyes follow the movement.
"Speaking of scotch, would you care for one more round?" Charles offers, eyes sparkling as he reaches for the bottle. Erik thinks, you're so lovely.
"Trying to get me drunk, professor? I suppose the night is still young," Erik says, holding out his glass. He thinks, I could get drunk on you. I think I already am.
Erik is reflecting on how easy it would be to touch Charles, and how utterly unfair it is, really, that the mind-reading only goes one way here, and how he'd told Charles "Stay out of my head" while shouting in his mind No, come in, and he's reaching to clear the chess set away (all in one graceful sweep, pieces going back into their compartments and folding board packing everything away) when Charles catches his hand.
At first he thinks Charles just wants more time to contemplate the game, but the buzz in the air is different and the look in Charles' eyes is odd as he stares at Erik's long fingers, trapped in his grasp.
"Charles?" he says, but it comes out as a whisper. The moment feels too heavy for loud words.
Charles seems to decide on something then, and in a moment, he's pulled Erik's hand so that his fingertips rest against his mouth. His eyes, those big blue eyes flicker up to meet Erik's before his lips part and he begins sucking the first two fingers slowly, as if there were nothing else in the world that mattered.
Erik is still, jaw slack, staring as Charles draws the fingers further into his mouth, eyes slipping closed and losing himself in the pleasure of it. With each warm press of tongue, the warmth that's been simmering in Erik's chest bursts into a full-out raging fire, burning up his chest and his throat with desire and need.
His hands tremble. He sets down his glass of scotch.
He finds that he acts now without a conscious thought, the flurry of movement that comes next entirely instinct. He pulls his fingers from Charles' mouth and fits both hands to the back of his head as he pulls him down, forward onto his knees on the floor, tugging him by the hair into Erik's lap until his arms are splayed over his parted legs and his face is getting well-acquainted with the tent Erik's trousers. Erik supposes his sole instinct was to get those wet, red lips as close to his dick as possible, but he doesn't understand it. Doesn't understand the soft groan that Charles lets out at the manhandling. Doesn't understand his own burning want in the slightest. Perhaps they're both drunker than he'd thought.
As quickly as his flash of madness and arousal came, it passed - the madness, at least. The arousal was still very present, but took a backburner to his shock and dismay.
"Charles - I, god, I'm sorry, I'm.." he sputters, hands flying from Charles' hair to hover awkwardly in the air.
"Mmmm, it's alright," Charles says soothingly, smiling up at Erik. "I don't mind... if you would like me to... I would like to as well, Erik." Rumpled hair, sweater and big smiling blue eyes - Erik wanted to touch him so very badly - god, what was wrong with him?
"I..." How to put it into words? "I... I would... like it... but I don't.... Charles, why is it so..." Intense, terrifying, wonderful. Erik had received blowjobs before - impersonal, physical ordeals, taken only when someone had offered, no desire for anything other than to get off and certainly no desire for the person themself.
Charles frowns thoughtfully. "I'm not sure what you mean. Do you mind if I check what's bothering you?" He held his fingertips by his temple.
Erik shakes his head once. Go ahead.
He can almost feel the presence in his mind, warm and bright like honey, flowing into his thoughts, connecting the dots in his synapses until Charles' eyes shot open with sudden understanding.
"You've... never experienced sexual attraction before?" Charles says, as the pieces of Erik’s life as he knew it shatter and begin to fall into place.
“I…” Erik is speechless for a moment. “Is that what this is?”
“Yesss,” Charles sighs out. He grabs one of Erik’s hands and holds it to his cheek as he pushes a thought into Erik’s mind, shameless and open with his mind as ever – what he thinks when he looks at Erik, the want, want to touch need to touch god I want to get him off – and says, “You haven’t experienced this with anyone else?”
No, Erik thinks, and can’t say it out loud. Only you. Charles understands.
It’s okay, Charles sends back to him. You – what you’re experiencing right now, what you’ve been experiencing… I’ve seen it before. In several people. Erik, you’re not alone.
“That’s the second time you’ve told me that,” Erik murmurs.
“And it continues to be true.” Charles presses his lips to his palm, and Erik’s eyes slip closed as he lets out a shaky breath. Charles leans up, still on his knees, and pulls Erik’s head down towards him gently for a kiss.
Erik sighs out all his tension into the kiss, and now wants Charles more than ever, wants to touch, stroke, hold, lick, suck every inch of him and it’s driving him mad. His hands reach up to cradle Charles’ head as he kisses him, gently, then deeper, and he fears he’s going to lose himself to this fire but he never wants it to stop.
Charles pulls back, breathless, and asks, “Are you… would you still like me to suck you off, Erik?”
“Christ, Charles.”
“It’s alright if you’re not up for it but I would still really, really like to suck you off.”
“I…” Erik squeezes his eyes shut. “Yes. Yes I do still want you to suck me off, Charles, I’m just.” A bit terrified, even though I do really want it, more than anything else, and that’s precisely why.
Charles holds Erik’s hand by the wrist, strokes his thumb along the back of it, presses a kiss to the sensitive veins. “It’s okay, love. We can stop if it gets too intense.”
Erik leans back in the chair with a sigh, spreading his legs further apart. Please, help yourself.
Charles is smiling as he leans in again, and, Scheiße, unfastens Erik’s zipper with his teeth. When he reaches the bottom, his eyes flicker up to meet Erik’s again and he mentally adds, If you would like to, ah, be a bit rough. Like before. Please, go ahead.
Erik blinks, dumbfounded, and watches as Charles excitedly pulls his trousers and underwear aside to reveal his erection, hardening now again at the attention – especially the attention from Charles, all dressed up like an Oxford professor and salivating at the sight of his dick.
Charles, who pulled him from the water.
Charles, who made him stop and save himself when no one else ever could.
Charles, who knows everything about Erik but still wants him as a friend, still smiles brightly whenever he enters the room and always walks by his side and wants to be with him, wants him, and now Erik knows viscerally how that feels –
Oh no, Erik thinks. Oh, no.
He throws his head back to rest on the chair and groans, hands gripping at the armrests. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that the hand at the base of his cock, the lips sweeping curiously up and down his length, the palm seeping warmth into his thigh and the soft tongue reaching out for a taste all belong to someone else. But he doesn’t want to pretend. He opens his eyes and peeks down and it’s Charles – Charles – whose blue eyes flash up to meet his, filled with warmth.
Erik sighs deeply, fire burning warm in his gut, as his hands reach up to cradle Charles’ face. One hand drifts to card through his soft hair, while the other strokes his cheek. Charles grins at him before opening his mouth and taking in a few inches of Erik’s cock, at just the right angle so that it pushes at the cheek beneath Erik’s hand. Erik sucks in a breath as he feels, wonderingly, at the head of his cock beneath Charles’ skin. Charles makes a happy noise, then throws himself into sucking the first few inches of Erik’s cock.
The hand that was in Charles’ hair tightens briefly, and the one stroking his cheek returns to the armrest and then his own thigh, white-knuckled and gripping for dear life. Charles hums around his cock and runs his hands soothingly over Erik’s legs and abdomen, rubbing small circles into his trembling body. One hand slips under his shirt, and the fire in his gut burns at the feeling of Charles’ warm hands on his bare skin.
Charles is sucking in more and more now, and Erik’s hips are jerking out small thrusts to meet his beautiful, warm, wet, red-lipped mouth. Charles’ hand finds Erik’s on his thigh, and Erik grips his wrist, squeezing as he pants through the sensations. Charles laces their fingers together, and when he squeezes his reassurance, the fire inside Erik blazes like a solar flare. Let go, Charles says in his mind along with tendrils of soothing relaxation. Trust me, Erik. I’ve got you.
Erik thinks, I ought to be embarrassed, to need all this coddling, but doesn’t feel embarrassment or shame. He squeezes his eyes shut, and when he opens them, they are wet and full of warmth and trust. Charles’ eyes are smiling as he dives deeper, his mind radiating patience and joy and understanding.
With the guidance of the hand in Charles’ hair, Erik works out a rhythm of Charles’ head bobbing and his hips thrusting up to meet him that has him moaning lowly and Charles making breathless happy noises. Every thrust brings Erik closer to the orgasm he can feel like a hurricane on the horizon. He can sense his control slipping away bit by bit, suckled into Charles’ warm, happy mouth.
Eventually Charles pulls off, breathes, meets Erik’s eyes with a smile, then engulfs Erik’s cock in his mouth again, plunging deeper than he had before – past the back of his throat – head bobbing until his lips nearly reached the base. Erik’s jaw drops open and he whimpers. Charles stays there for a moment before he chokes a bit, then pulls back and off his cock again, gasping, a rope of saliva bridged between Erik’s cock and his wet, red lips.
“Charles…” Erik whispers, then he’s bending over in half and scrambling to pull Charles’ face up so he can kiss those open lips, fiercely, with tongue and teeth. Diving into Charles’ mouth, he realizes that he could kiss this man forever.
Charles has to pull away in the end (it’s not the most comfortable angle for his neck, after all), and they both pant for a moment before Erik growls, “Do that again.”
Charles’ face blossoms into a smile. “With pleasure, darling.”
And he is enjoying it – much more than any other man or woman Erik had ever had the mediocre pleasure of having his cock sucked by. Is this what want, what desire, what attraction does to people? Erik thinks about swallowing Charles’ cock and his mouth starts to water.
Charles moans, picking up on the thought. “Later,” he promises, before engulfing Erik’s cock in his throat again.
Erik finds that, though Charles is more than happy to go willingly, using the hand in his hair to push him down or keep him down brings him moans and telepathic arousal-bursts of approval. He experiments, holding Charles’ head down at the base of his cock until his eyes water or he senses discomfort, enjoying the choking noises he makes more than he feels he should (but not as much as Charles is enjoying making them). He secures Charles’ head about halfway down his cock and thrusts into his throat, eliciting choked-off moans. He pulls Charles back to the head and is fascinated watching his bright red lips lazily suckle at the head, stretching around it as they take it in or let it go.
His orgasm comes as he’s thrusting into Charles’ mouth and thinking about how ferociously he wants to throw Charles down on the floor, spread his ass open and fuck him into the carpet. Charles picks up on the thought, moaning around Erik’s cock and causing a sweat to break out across his body. Soon, he murmurs into Erik’s mind, and the thought holds a promise that has him rocketing over the edge. He cries out brokenly, one hand fisting in Charles’ hair and the other squeezing his hand, his hips thrusting out of control. His eyes are squeezed shut and there’s a roaring in his ears such as that he doesn’t register Charles choking until a few moments later, then with a gasp he releases his grips, hands flying back as Charles pulls off, coughing.
“I – Charles, I’m so sorry, are you –“ Erik reaches forwards tentatively, wiping tears and come off Charles’s face, his body still trembling with aftershocks. “That was fucking rude of me, I’m so –"
“Shhhh,” Charles hushes him, head leaning forward to rest on Erik’s upper thigh as he strokes Erik’s hips soothingly. “Shhhh, ohh, darling it’s alright. It’s alright… thank you.”
“What, for… for what?” Erik squints down at him as he begins to lazily clean off Erik’s cock with his tongue.
Charles smiles up at him. “For… trusting me. For letting me take care of you.”
Erik swallows and nods, hands stroking gently through Charles’ soft hair.
The evening ends with Charles in Erik’s lap, rutting against his stomach, Erik’s arms tight around his panting body, exhausted from his own orgasm but still so hungry for Charles. Charles manages to coax both their shirts off before shouting and coming all over his chest. Erik watches him with wonder in his eyes and scoops up some of Charles’ come with his fingers for a taste.
Erik carries Charles, all loose and pliant after his orgasm, to his bed, strips them both to their underwear, and washes them off with a washcloth. When this is done, he stares at Charles, sleepy and tucked into the blankets already, then glances at his own bed, and hesitates.
“Erik, come here,” Charles says with an air of fond exasperation and determination.
“I have night terrors, you know that,” Erik says, already pulling back the covers.
“I will kiss them all away,” Charles promises, pulling Erik close to him and kissing each of his eyelids in demonstration.
“You utter sap,” Erik huffs with a smile, and draws Charles into a long kiss. He wants Charles, even now – wants everything with Charles, wants to have him forever. The enormity of it still frightens him.
“Shhh, shh shh…” Charles shushes. “We have tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that…”
Erik groans. “I hope you are prepared to accept that now I have held you, I can never let you go.”
They’re both still for a moment, letting those words sink in. Before Erik can panic too much, Charles murmurs into his collarbone, “Who’s the sap now?” and Erik huffs out a laugh and it’s a while yet before they drift off to sleep.
When Erik wakes in the morning (Charles’ soft hair and gentle breaths tickling his chest) he’ll realize, with a jolt, that he hadn’t spared a thought for Shaw, his revenge, or his mission all night. He’ll realize that the nightmares, ever-present since he was too young to remember anything else, hadn’t even wandered close to his mind with Charles’ warm telepathic presence still there. He’ll realize how dangerous Charles is – not just the man, though he’s certain Charles is hiding a number of things beneath his Oxford professor demeanor, enthusiastic cocksucking skills being one of them – but even just being near him and being drawn close to his warmth and goodness like gravity is dangerous. Even this could put everything Erik’s believed in in jeopardy, could tear him apart with conflicting interests, could keep him from doing what needs to be done….
Still, as he gazes down at Charles, red lips and dark eyelashes and body heavy and relaxed and warm in sleep…
Erik will hope.