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Erik glances at the clock for what feels like the tenth time in less than half the minutes. It feels like he's been in some meeting or other since the day started almost 10 hours ago, and he's had just about enough of listening to these pompous old men discuss what would be best for his company like they know anything about it. He tries as subtly as possible to massage his temples to assuage the building migraine, but he knows it's no use.
He just wants to go home.
The men drone on and on, and finally, at a quarter to six, the meeting ends. He lets out a sigh of relief as quietly as possible and goes to wait by the door, greeting the board members with something that can almost be passed off as respect, and then heads for his office to gather his things.
Charles had texted him earlier in the day to say he'd be over in time for dinner, and Erik has been eager to leave since noon. But work is work, and he couldn't get away from the meetings. He'd have to tell his secretary to schedule them better so they would be spread out over the week instead of all being pushed to one day; it always ends up being counterproductive for him. And today, he had even more of an incentive to get home as fast as he could.
He gathers his suit jacket and briefcase, laying the jacket over his arm before heading out the door. But just before he could finally escape for home, his secretary comes rushing in.
"Sir!"
Erik resists the urge to bang his head against the wall. Instead, he pinches the bridge of his nose. "What is it, Janos?"
Janos stands nervously before him, and Erik can tell he's trying hard not to fidget. Erik has fired 3 secretaries for letting their nerves show before him. "Sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but there seems to be a mix up. The files for the deal with the Frosts were filled out incorrectly with the information for the Stark's company and now the transactions are all wrong, Sir."
Erik can't help it; his nostrils flare as a sharp pain stabs behind his right eye. "What? Who let such a careless mistake happen?" he asks sharply.
Janos swallows visibly. "I, I don't-"
"Forget it, I don't care right now." Erik takes a deep breath, tries to calm down. It isn't Janos's fault, he reminds himself. "Find out who was responsible and leave the files on my desk, I'll deal with it in the morning." It'd be more responsible to take care of it now, so he won't fall behind tomorrow, but Erik doesn't care; he just wants to see Charles. It's been more than a week since he's last seen the young student.
"Yes, sir." Janos holds the door open for him as Erik leaves.
It's nearly half past six when Erik gets home. Anticipation has him nearly vibrating; he hadn't realized just how much he missed his boyish lover. It's only been a little over a week, but with his jam packed schedule, time seems to drag and it always feels like much longer. Plus, with Charles's just as busy graduate student life, finding time to get together was nearly impossible. They texted all the time, but words on a screen never makes up for the warmth of having Charles in his arms, of feeling that sweet and playful smile against his own lips.
And then there’s the sex, of course.
He parks his car in the underground garage of his apartment building next to the space he left open for Charles's, pleased to see Charles is already there, just as he said he would be. Charles's habit of always being there before Erik was something that had always secretly thrilled him, mostly because he knew that Charles was never on time or, God forbid, early, for anything. That he was here before Erik meant that he was just as eager to see Erik as Erik was to see him.
As he grabs his jacket and briefcase and gets out of the car he thinks about the present he bought Charles, sitting in his bedside table. He's not worried about Charles finding it; he never makes himself comfortable in Erik’s apartment no matter how much Erik tries to make him feel at home. The only place Charles felt mildly at ease was the kitchen and the bedroom, which is strange given that with the exception of some days when Charles is caught up in research at the lab and sleeps on a cot there for convenience, Charles spends most of his nights with Erik. He knows that Charles’ discomfort in making himself at home is rooted in the fact that he thinks he’s somehow taking advantage of Erik and his wealth, never mind that Erik was the one who proposed the idea when he - literally - stumbled across a drunk and broke and desperate Charles almost a year ago. What Erik would like to say, of course, is that he’s fallen hard for the young student, and just having him around was more than enough for Erik. Being the emotionally constipated person he is, he can’t, and so he lets Charles continue to think that he only wants him for the sex, though that has been far from the truth for quite a while now. He doesn’t know how Charles feels about him though, outside of their arrangement, so he says nothing. He also can't tell Charles that frankly, a 22 year old man should not be that adorable.
The elevator dings at the penthouse while he's lost in his thoughts, and a smile curves his lips of its own accord as he slides the key into place. It clicks, and then the door is opening and the overwhelmingly comforting scent of home hits him as he steps inside.
Funny how that scent only seems to exist when Charles is home and trying to cook for Erik. Keyword, trying.
He drops his briefcase by the entrance table, takes a moment to breath in the aroma of warm food (spaghetti?), listens to the clatter of Charles moving around comfortably in his kitchen and then calls out, playfully, "Honey, I'm home!"
A second later a head pokes out of the kitchen. Charles's pretty, pretty blue eyes visibly brighten when he sees him, and warmth unfurls through him, chasing away his bad mood and migraine with just one look. "Very funny," he says, walking over while wiping his hands dry on his My Sausage Tastes Best apron that Erik bought him as a joke, but those so-loved lips are already stretching into a slow smile. He's wearing a simple ice blue button up under a soft looking cardigan and jeans that do wonders to his ass under his apron, and he looks absolutely delicious. He's also wearing the watch Erik bought him, he's pleased to see.
Erik is embarrassed to admit his heart may or may not actually miss a few beats as he watches Charles approach him.
Charles takes his jacket from him and lays it on the table while not once taking his eyes off of him; Erik knows he'll hang it up neatly later. For now, Charles is coming closer, his arms coming to wrap around his neck as he rises on his toes (cute, Erik thinks distantly), and then those sweet lips are on his and it's like his horrible day never happened. He slides his arms around Charles's waist, tilts his head to the side and fits their mouths together. Charles's eyes flutter closed, and Erik's follow as he allows the feel of Charles's soft lips to wash over him.
He presses closer, draws Charles tighter against him as he licks at Charles's lips, asking for entrance Charles easily gives. He strokes his tongue against Charles's, sweeps over his teeth and licks at his palate. Charles moans into his mouth and he swallows it eagerly.
"Hi," Charles whispers, a smile in his voice.
"Hey," Erik answers back, his voice rough and low. It still amazes him how just kisses from Charles could arouse him so much. He presses and presses, and Charles just keeps yielding to him, until he's got Charles trapped against the wall without realizing it. Charles finally pulls away to breath, his head thudding gently against the wall as he pants, so Erik takes the opportunity to move down to mouth at his throat. Charles groans again, and Erik can feel it against his lips as Charles's hands slide into his hair, his grip just a little on the tight side.
Erik wanders over to the side, down to where neck meets shoulder, picks an area and draws the flesh between his teeth. He bites down gently, listens to Charles's ragged breathing as he sucks a hickey on his lover's flawless skin.
"Erik," Charles gasps, but when Erik doesn't respond, doesn't stop sucking, he tugs his hair gently. "Erik."
He lets go, observes the red area and finds himself satisfied. He finally looks up at Charles. Charles's eyes are a little blown, but he still looks at Erik closely. His hands begin to rub slow circles in Erik's hair. "Are you okay?" he murmurs.
Erik just looks at him; Charles always knows. It’s like he has some special ability, able to pick up on Erik’s moods faster than even Erik himself sometimes. "Yeah," he replies after a moment. "Just tired."
Charles looks back at him; he nods after a long moment, apparently satisfied with what he sees. Just then, a timer dings in the kitchen. Charles presses another kiss to his lips and says, "Go wash up and change. Dinner's almost ready."
“Oh? And what slightly burnt thing will we be having today?” Erik asks teasingly, unable to resist.
Just as he expected, Charles scowls at him, offended at the jab at his less than desirable cooking skills. So predictable, his Charles. “Shut up. You would be dead if I didn’t make you eat.”
“Of course, schatz,” Erik agrees.
Charles rolls his eyes. “Go on then.”
"Okay," Erik says, not moving away as he kisses him again.
There's a small smile on Charles's face as he turns his face to the side; Erik tries to follow with his lips but Charles doesn't let him. "Erik," he says again. His hands slide out of Erik's hair and down to his chest to push him slightly. "It's going to burn and then I'll be very unhappy."
Erik laughs, a weight falling off his shoulders with the unexpected sound. "Well, I can't have that, now, can I?" He gives him one last kiss and lets go of him, watching him walk into the kitchen with a smile on his face.
He goes into his room then, changing out of his stiff suit into a comfortable shirt and sweatpants. He considers underwear and then foregoes it, and leaves the suit on a chair as a reminder to have it cleaned later, even though he knows full well Charles will scold him for it and then have it sent to the dry cleaners himself. He washes up in his en suite, splashing cold water on his face and letting the final weariness of the day fall away. There's still something burning beneath his skin, an itch in a hard-to-reach place that needs to be scratched, but it's nothing some relaxing time with Charles won't fix.
When he heads to the kitchen, Charles is at the stove, his back to him. Erik slides onto a stool and cups his chin in his palm, the other arm resting on the kitchen island. His eyes follow the lean lines of his body, wandering up the strong legs and pert ass and trim waist. He eyes the nape of his neck, idly considers how annoyed Charles would be if he were to distract him now. Probably extremely peeved; as cute as Charles's sometimes childish irritation can be, the man is also amazingly stubborn. Erik had purposely teased Charles so much once before that he had refused to sleep with him after, no matter how much Erik tried to coax him into his bed. He had learned his lesson then.
"What are you cooking?" he asks, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a yawn so he covered his mouth with the back of his hand.
Charles glances over his shoulder and gives him a faint smile. "Cream cheese spaghetti."
"Cream cheese spaghetti? That’s new," he says.
Charles smiles at him. "It's a new recipe I've learned," he says, and the pride is audible in his voice.
Erik smiles at him, slightly amused by the fact that Charles is always trying to learn new things to cook for Erik, even though he doesn’t always succeed in getting it quite right. He labors painstakingly over the food though, and Erik can’t help but be touched.
"Is it done?"
"Yupp. Set the table, please."
Erik gets up and begins to gather plates and utensils and wine glasses from various cabinets and drawers, carrying them to the dining room. He pulls out a bottle of the oldest wine in the wine cellar and pours them both two generous fingers.
At last, the table is set and Charles serves them both. They sit down and get ready to eat, but Erik pauses. The food looks good and smells even better, the wine is sparkling in their glasses, and Charles is waiting for him to taste it. Everything's fine, and yet.... "Something wrong?" Charles asks, his eyebrow quirking up.
"Yes," Erik says gravely.
Charles puts his fork down. "What is it?" He actually looks a little concerned, though he's obviously trying not to show it. Erik tamps down on the urge to smile.
"You're sitting too far away," Erik tells him. And really, he was all the way on the other side of the table. Completely unnecessary.
Charles stares at him for a second, and then huffs and rolls his eyes. He picks his fork back up and says, "You're an idiot. I'm sitting right across from you."
"Yeah, but why would you sit there when you could sit-" he scoots his chair back and pats his lap tantalizingly, wiggling his eyebrows, "-right here."
Charles breathes out something that sounds somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. He's still looking at Erik like he's contemplating just what sort of being he got himself involved with though, so Erik tries his best to look like appealing. Charles rolls his eyes and gives in.
"Oh, fine." He gets up and walks around the table, bringing his wine glass with him. He settles himself sideways in Erik's lap, left arm going around Erik's neck, and Erik immediately latches onto him, his arms curling around Charles's waist and his chin on his shoulders. He noses into Charles's neck and Charles puffs out a laugh.
"Behave will you," he says. He pauses, squirms a little in Erik's lap, which definitely interests his cock, and then raises an eyebrow at him. "No underwear?"
Erik grins lewdly. "I'm setting it free tonight," he says, and then laughs when Charles's ears turn bright pink. Charles's adorable when he blushes. He huffs through his blush and tries to change the subject, picking up Erik's fork and twirling a few strands of spaghetti around it. "Ah," he says after he blows gently on the too-hot spaghetti, and Erik opens his mouth obediently.
Charles brings the forkful of spaghetti to his mouth, his other hand cupped below it to catch any spill. Erik closes his lips around the fork, an explosion of flavor and warmth bursting across his taste buds. He can't help it; he moans so obscenely Charles actually blushes again and shifts in his lap.
"That good?" he asks, amusement coloring his words.
"Even better. More please."
Charles laughs, low and rich and pleased. He says nothing more, and begins to feed the both of them, alternating between bites.
But Erik's never been one to behave with Charles so near and warm; before long, his hands are brushing up and down his sides, skipping over the insides of his thighs and into the dip of his hipbones, lightly caressing over all those places Charles is most sensitive. Charles doesn't say anything, doesn't even react; he just keeps feeding them spaghetti and offering Erik a sip of his wine glass every few bites. When they finish Erik's plate together, Charles reaches across the table to drag his own plate over and they start in on that.
His discipline and ability to ignore Erik's shenanigans are amazing; Erik would admire him if not for the fact that Charles was depriving him of prime entertainment. He decides to pull out the big guns; he slips his hand over Charles's waist and palms his cock. He's unsurprised to find it half hard even as he is delighted at the results. Charles could control his facial expressions all he wanted, but even he couldn't stop his arousal.
Charles lets out a sound like a choked off moan; his hands fly to Erik's to still them. "Erik," he grits out. "Not at the table."
"Why not," Erik murmurs, nibbling at the shell of his ears. Charles shivers almost violently in his lap, but his hands don't move. "There's no one here but us."
"Erik," he says gently but firmly. "That’s not proper.”
Damn Charles and his snobbish upbringing. Even though he’d been disowned by his sham of a family and all but thrown out into the streets, he’s still unfailingly polite and proper anywhere that’s not their bedroom.
"Fine," Erik says sullenly, but he removes his hands and brings them back to Charles's hips, his chin hooked over Charles's shoulder. He knows Charles can feel his erection pressing insistently into his thigh though, and he can't help the little rolls of his hips to relieve some of the pressure. Charles gamely ignores this.
But when the food is finally finished, he's reached the edge of his patience; he stands up and pushes his chair back. Charles tumbles slightly but Erik pulls him firmly to himself and keeps him in the circle of his arms. "Bed. Now," he whispers in his ear, voice low and husky.
Charles tries obviously to suppress a shiver, but he doesn't succeed all that well. He still manages to find the energy to tease Erik though. "But Erik, I still have to clean up," he says, sounding uncertain, but it's all faux like the great minx he is.
"Bed," Erik growls, his arms tightening around Charles's waist, as lifts him up into his arms.
Charles laughs delightedly, a sweet teasing sound, as he wraps his arms and legs around Erik; he lets himself be manhandled to their room, and then takes control at the last second to twist them around and shove Erik down. He straddles Erik's thighs, a bright grin stretching his lips as he looks down at him. Erik's hands wander to his hips, thumbing at the sharp bones.
"No desert?" he asks, smiling.
"You are my desert," Erik replies, laughing when Charles rolls his eyes at his cheesiness.
Erik sits up and brings Charles closer, mouths at the hinge of his jaw; Charles, predictably, shivers. He presses himself closer and then he's grinding on Erik's dick and suddenly it's hard to think about anything that isn't a way to rip Charles's clothes off him.
He shoves the cardigan down his arms and then pulls at Charles's shirt, waiting for him to lift his arms and then throwing it off him. Erik drags his nails down Charles's sides, his ribs and his waist and hipbone, loving Charles's moan. He leans closer and whispers in his ear, "I'm gonna make you scream tonight."
A shiver wracks its way through Charles's body and his grip tightens in Erik's hair. "Oh, yes, please," he practically purrs, and it's all the incentive Erik needs before he's twisting them around and pressing Charles into the sheets.
All the earlier playfulness is gone, replaced by something urgent and primal and Erik needs. They tug at each other's clothes, pulling jeans and shirts roughly down and off until Charles's lying completely naked below him and Erik is looming just as naked above him.
He settles down so he's laying mostly on top of Charles, taking his weight on his elbows. Their cocks come into contact, a glorious slide of bare skin against skin, and he hears Charles's moans echoing his own. His dick is nestled into the valley of Charles's hipbones, and he can't help but grind against him, small but hard rolls of his hips while he leans down to kiss him dirty, fitting their mouths together. Charles's breath hitches in his chest as Erik presses their mouths together, hands reaching out to grab hold of Charles's wrists. Charles pulls back slightly, chest rising and sinking as he draws in a deep breath, one hand freeing itself from Erik’s grasp and coming up to rest on Erik's chest, over his heart. He opens his mouth to say something, but Erik can't resist; he leans down again and kisses him. This time Charles doesn’t pull away; he raises his hands to either side of Erik's neck, kissing him hungrily and crowding close. Erik does his best to slowly, carefully, take him apart. He nips at Charles's full lower lip, taking it between his teeth and biting gently and then not so gently. He hears Charles's breathing speed up and is extraordinarily pleased to be the cause of his breathlessness. Erik slides a hand up his flat stomach, over the ridges of his abdomen and between his pecs, even as their hips keep up their slow but delicious rhythm. He licks into Charles's mouth at the same time he drags his hand over to his nipple, pinching the small nub between two fingers and sliding his tongue against Charles's. Charles lets out something between a gasp and a choked off moan, and Erik swallows it right up, eager to hear more.
He teases at Charles's nipples, first one and then the other, feels it harden beneath his fingertips as he breaks off from Charles's mouth. Charles makes a displeased sound and makes as if to follow, but Erik begins to kiss his way up his jaw and he settles back, eyes fluttering shut and breathing rapidly while his own hips roll up to meet Erik's.
Erik wanders down his throat, presses open-mouthed kisses to his Adam's apple and feels Charles swallow. He licks into the hollow at the base of his throat, tasting the salty tang of sweat. His other hand sidles down Charles's body, playing lightly over his hipbones before lifting himself enough to settle on his groin. Erik wraps a large hand firmly around Charles's rock hard, leaking cock, moving up to mouth at the shell of his ears as he watches his face carefully. Charles makes a sound like he's in pain, and after only a few strokes Charles stops him, drags his arms up with what looks like enormous effort and pushes weakly at Erik's chest. Erik stops and leans back so he can look at him.
There are no other words for it; Charles is a beautiful mess. His electric blue eyes are blown wide, half shuttered, lips parted around pants and a flush making its way down his heaving chest. Goosebumps pebble his skin, and his fingers are clenched tightly in the sheets, like he's trying to anchor himself. Sweat coats him like a second skin, and his brown curls are laying limp and wet across the pillows.
And Erik hadn't even done anything yet.
"Alright?" Erik asks, unable to help the slightly teasing lilt to the question.
Charles, keeping his eyes locked on Erik's, drags himself up the bed, settling into the pillows against the headboard, and then he spreads his legs wide in clear invitation. He wraps a hand around his length and strokes lightly up and down, slowly, so slowly. "You were saying something about making me scream...?" he trails off, eyes dark and enticing.
And that's it, really; all of Erik's higher functions shut down, because all he can think about is how delicious Charles looks all spread out before him like an expensive treat, and how much he wants to take him apart and eat him up and drive him crazy with ecstasy.
Something like a possessive rumble makes its way from deep in his chest, and then he's crawling up the bed towards Charles. He stops at his groin, glances down at his dick before grinning lasciviously at him while licking his lips and then swallowing him down as far as he can in one go. Charles shouts, unexpectedly, his hips bucking up and nearly choking Erik before he manages to firmly hold him down by the hips. Charles mutters something that sounds like a curse, his hands fisting in Erik's hair, nails digging into his scalp. The sensation stings, settles deep in his gut and then spreads like heat through his body. He mouths up Charles's shaft, flicking his tongue at the head before swallowing him down again. Charles whines, desperately trying to keep him in one place so he can fuck up into his mouth, but Erik doesn't let him. He applies pressure to the throbbing vein with his tongue, bobbing his head up and down, occasionally breaking off to lick at the oozing pre come. When Erik eases him down past his gag reflex and swallows around his girth, Charles actually keens and he finds himself grinding down on the mattress. Flames of arousal lash through his veins like a whip across his skin and it's all he can do to stop himself from coming right then.
Oh, and Charles too.
Erik's noticing all the signs of Charles's oncoming orgasm, the tiny breathless mewls and restless fingers and tightly shut eyes. He pops off Charles's length and gets a hand wrapped tightly around the base of his dick just in time, as he watches a dry orgasm wrack through Charles's body. It arches his back beautifully and Erik doesn’t fight the shudder that tremors through him, mesmerized by the display before him.
The sudden inability to come startles Charles so much he lets out a choked gasp and then there are actual tears slipping from under his eyes and down his cheeks. Erik shushes him, wiping the tears away with his free hand while Charles tries to breathe. He takes great, gulping breaths of air to calm himself, and Erik lets him.
Finally, finally, Charles looks up at Erik and breathes his name and he sounds so pained.
Erik smiles at him. "Not yet, darling," he murmurs. "I promised I'd make you scream, didn't I?"
Charles whines, but Erik takes no heed. He rummages around for lube in the nightstand beside his bed, and comes up triumphant. He tosses it on the bed and crawls back to Charles, who's been watching him with heavy eyes. Ignoring his own aching erection, he gets one of the pillows scattered around the bed and tucks it under the small of Charles's back before settling himself down again between his legs and kissing the inside of his thigh. Charles watches him warily, still breathing hard. His erection hasn't calmed down any; if anything, it looks even redder. Erik smirks and slides his hands to the insides of his thighs and pushes until Charles is as wide open as he can be.
When he realizes what Erik's about to do, he makes a noise, sounding both apprehensive and anticipating at the same time. Erik doesn't give him any more time to think; he reaches for the lube, slicks a few fingers up generously, and then smoothly slides one inside Charles.
Charles gasps as his finger disappears inside his body to the knuckle; Erik waits for a moment, letting Charles adjust, before moving it around slightly. He eases deeper slowly, moves in and out until his whole finger is inside Charles.
"More," Charles gasps-demands. A chuckle rumbles in Erik's chest as he slips his finger out, slicking it up again and then pressing two back inside Charles. There's more resistance this time, the noise Charles's making just a little more painful. But they've been doing this for months, Erik knows what Charles can take and where he draws the line, how to pull sounds from his lover like a master puppeteer. He rubs his fingers against his channel's walls, humming and dropping a kiss to his thigh when Charles moans loudly. Erik twists his fingers around, screws it in deeper into Charles. This time he looks for the spot that will drive him crazy, and after a moment of searching he knows he's found it when Charles jolts and shouts. "Ah, Erik, yes, right there, again," he pants, eyes screwed shut and dick leaking. Erik ignores him, leans down instead to lap up the beads of pre come.
"Erik!" Charles tries to scold, but his voice comes out all high and breathless and it comes out as a whine instead, and Erik just grins at him.
Erik adds another finger for good measure, despite Charles's protests that he didn't need it, seriously Erik you're not that big stop flattering yourself oh my hngghnh.
"You can take this," he murmurs, voice low and dark, full of promises. "I know you can."
And as if to prove it, he slips another finger inside him. It's really a right fit now, but Charles doesn't complain; only gasps, back arching off the bed, hips pushing up into his hand, and cursing Erik for good measure.
Erik ignores him and continues fingering him, relishing in the feeling of Charles's body stretching to accommodate his fingers and occasionally rubbing his prostate when he gets too whiney.
When Erik's finally done playing, Charles's a panting mess, all scowling and flushed and sweaty. Erik thinks he'd like Charles like this all the time.
He slicks himself up and strokes a few times, moaning after finally getting the pressure he needed. It's not how he wants to come though, so he forces his eyes open and looks down at Charles, who's looking back expectantly. He arches an eyebrow, as if to say, well, big boy?
Erik leans over him, distracts him with kisses and bites and licks while he settles himself between Charles's legs. Charles kisses him back hungrily, hands sliding up Erik's arms and clenching tightly around his shoulders. Erik reaches down blindly to grab hold of Charles's thigh, pulling his leg up around his waist. Charles groans into his mouth and the sound hits him like a punch to the gut. All of a sudden he feels frantic, all of the emotions from the past day rolling far too close to the surface. His desire is almost enough to take the breath out of him, but he needs to slow down or he’s going to come too fast; after all, he did promise to take Charles apart. He slips an arm under Charles's neck, pillowing his neck on his forearm and kisses him roughly again and again.
Charles's hands slide down Erik's back, pressing hard against muscle, his fingers squeezing Erik's ass. His hips jolt forwards hard and Charles lets out a cry, muffled against Erik's mouth. Charles squeezes his ass again. "Come on, come on, you've been keeping me waiting forever," Charles urges.
Erik kisses him again and reaches down to guide himself to Charles's hole. He pushes in as slowly as he can handle, watching Charles's face carefully. Despite the care he's taken to stretch him, Charles is still wonderfully tight. He pushes into him with small thrusts, further and further until he's seated all the way to the hilt and it's taking an enormous amount of self control not to come. Erik stills, pants as he lets Charles's body adjust to his girth. Blood is pounding in his ear, he can hear Charles's moans over his own harsh breathing. Charles is tight, so tight and hot it's like he's on fire. Arousal thrums across his skin like the beat of a heavy drum.
He mouths at Charles's jaw, drawing his attention back to him. Charles looks at him, his eyes dark and unfocused. "Move," he says softly, and Erik complies.
He draws out slowly, his cock dragging against Charles's walls. Charles's breath hitches in his ear, and the sound is enough to have him reeling; when he thrusts back in, it's anything but gentle. His hips snap forwards and Charles cries out, clutching at him tightly. His fingernails are digging into Erik's skin and Erik revels in it as he draws out again.
"Mein Gott, yes, yes," he gasps, hips rolling. Charles makes a high pitched sound, and Erik aims again for that spot. He leans down to kiss Charles roughly, but sounds keep spilling from Charles's mouth so he settles for biting his lips.
"Erik, Erik, I'm gonna-" Charles pants, but Erik cuts him off.
"No, not yet, not yet," Erik manages, quickly bringing a hand down to wrap around Charles's cock. "I know, liebster, I know you've been on the edge but I promise, this will be good," he murmurs into Charles's ear, licking at the shell.
Charles whines, shifts restlessly. "Erik, please, I need..." His words trail off in a moan, and it hits Erik right in the stomach. Charles's hands slide up into his hair and grip him tightly, and when he pulls hard Erik grunts. "Faster, harder," Charles moans, eyes rolling into the back of his head when Erik angles just so.
He goes faster, harder. Sweat has long started to bead across his forehead; the room smells entirely of sex. He loses track of time, can only focus on the insane pleasure Charles's body gives him, the smooth continuous slide of in and out. Charles's hands rove restlessly over him, grip digging into Erik every time he manages to hit his spot. Erik lets go of Charles's dick and readjusts to take a hold of his thigh, presses it back towards his chest, and then he thrusts so hard it sends Charles up a few inches on the bed.
And it's enough; Charles screams, a high pitched wail that has Erik shuddering. Charles comes so hard he hits his chin with white sticky fluid, and he clenches so gloriously around Erik that he comes mindlessly a mere thrust later.
He doesn't know he's blacked out until he comes to, lying sprawled across Charles. Charles is still panting, chest rising and falling rapidly with his erratic breathing, but he's clinging to Erik tightly, cheek resting on the top of Erik's head. Erik closes his eyes again and draws in a breath, and then another, and another, and then he realizes he's syncing his breathing with Charles's. He smiles slightly to himself, a little amused at his own besottedness.
"What's so funny?" Charles says, but his voice is hoarse and raspy and he clears his throat.
Erik looks up at him. "Nothing," he replies, and that's when he sees the drying tear tracks on Charles's face. He leans in to kiss him softly, gently wiping away the tears. Charles allows it, kisses back lazily, and a moment later Erik pulls away, slowly drawing out of Charles's hot body. Charles winces and Erik kisses him again in apology.
"Sorry if I was too rough," he murmurs against his lips, fingers stroking his cheeks.
Charles snorts. "As if I couldn't have made you stop."
Erik chuckles, because he's right; he just had to say the word and Erik would have stopped.
He leans over and drops heavily to the side, throwing an arm over his eyes and sighing, eyes already closed. He feels wrung out, loosened and relaxed in a way that only good sex makes him feel. Good sex with Charles, he corrects himself. Although all sex with Charles is the good kind. The irritating itch from earlier in the day is gone, replaced by a gentle and soothing hum.
He feels the bed dip, and cracks open an eye to see Charles lean over his side of the bed and grab some tissues, cleaning himself off while making a face before turning to do the same for Erik. Erik mumbles a thank you as Charles moves away again, presumably to throw away the dirty tissues, before settling over Erik and resting his forearm on Erik's chest, propping his chin on it. "Feel better?" he murmurs, reaching out with his other hand to stroke the back of his knuckle over Erik's ear.
Erik just hums, eyes closed, turning his face into Charles's touch and nuzzling his palm before kissing it. He pulls his arm out from under Charles's body to wrap it lazily around him. "Fantastic," he mumbles, already feeling the wonderful pull of sleep.
He hears Charles chuckle, and then his hand is cupping Erik's jaw, thumb caressing his bottom lip. He nips at it gently, lacking the energy for more.
"Alright, I get it, time to let the old man sleep."
"I'm only 34," he protests weakly, scowling with his eyes still closed.
"Sure don't act like it," comes the reply; Erik gives him the finger in his general direction and Charles laughs out loud.
"Oh wait!" Erik opens his eyes, looking at Charles. "Almost forgot. Bought you something the other day. Was waiting to give it to you."
Charles's inquisitive look immediately turns pleased, although he tries to hide it. He loved presents, just didn't like receiving them, he'd explained to Erik once, as if that was supposed to make any sort of sense. Erik had just nodded along and then pinched his cheeks and given him a diamond-encrusted bracelet. Charles's ears had turned a delightful shade of pink, even though he tried glaring valiantly to cover it.
Erik reaches over to his bedside table and pulls out a gleaming round case wrapped in a single red ribbon. He gives it to Charles and then settles back against his pillows, an arm tucked under his head, and watches Charles open it.
Charles sits up in bed, Indian style, and shyly opens the present. It amazes Erik that Charles could still be shy about Erik's presents, despite the fact that he's been receiving them for months now.
Charles opens the case to reveal the gleaming silver watch inside; he takes it out reverently, handles it carefully. This is one of Erik's favorite things about giving Charles presents, the way he holds and cares for them as if they're precious, rather than as just another gift from a man with too much money. He treats them as if each and every gift is irreplaceable, even when they're not. Well, Erik thinks, this one is irreplacable.
"It's beautiful," Charles whispers, voice hushed as he runs his hand gently over the band.
Erik smiles, something warm and steady spreading through him. He reaches out and lightly caresses Charles's hipbone, waiting for Charles to see why this watch is so special.
And he does. He turns over the watch in his fascinated inspection of it, and the words on the back of it catches the light. He stops, clearly surprised, and brings it closer to his face.
Erik watches the play of emotions flicker over his face as he reads, stunned and embarrassed and pleased before a small smile finally settles on his lips. He meets Erik's eyes before dropping them again to the watch and the inscription on the inside.
He clears his throat. “You called me liebster,” he says softly, not meeting Erik’s eyes. His fingers have gone back to gently stroking the band of the watch.
Erik freezes, tries to remember when he said that, and then swallows - yes, he had, in the middle of sex. Verdammt, of all times to tell Charles how he feels. He’s a little surprised Charles had even noticed, given how in a frenzy he must have been at the time. “So I did,” Erik says cautiously, wary of Charles’ reaction.
There’s a pause, and then Charles asks, “Did you mean it?” He sounds heartbreakingly hopeful and fearful and insecure, and Erik heart breaks a little for him. Charles is one of the sweetest, kindest people he knows, and he should never have to sound like that, like he doesn’t think anyone could love him.
“I think you know the answer to that,” Erik says quietly, stroking his hipbone slowly.
Charles looks up again, and the sweet smile that spreads across his lips is enough to take Erik’s breath away. "Thank you. It's...beautiful," he says, and his voice is soft and shy. Erik smiles and tugs him down for a kiss, and Charles sets the watch aside carefully before coming down willingly.
The kiss is soft and gentle and sweet, everything Charles is and nothing Erik deserves. But he's here, and he's stayed, and Erik knows, without a doubt, that his presents had nothing to do with it.
He wraps Charles up in his arms, and just before he falls into sleep, he hears, softly, “I love you, too.”