you are the light i needed all along

by orphan_account

Summary:

Charles is struggling with his mutation, Erik is a survivor searching for his tormentor. One night, their paths cross.

Notes:

• For roachvibes.

Hello, dear ones! I hope you're all doing well.

This fanfic is the result of a daydream of mine after an absurdly long writer's block (almost two months) and my ideas for making poor Charles suffer in the MCU's X-Men universe (formerly the FOX universe, but nobody calls it that anymore, lol).

In this universe, Charles faces personal problems due to his mutation and disability (here, he's not yet paraplegic, but he suffered an accident that damaged his hip), and he and Erik meet in a different way. Erik, already established with the Brotherhood, searches for Shaw. Their paths cross on an unusual night.

There are mentions of suicide and some graphic mentions of Erik's mother's death scene, but nothing too hardcore. There's, of course, pornography. Because what's Cherik without them fucking, right? Hahahaha! I hope you like it.

Raven tells him he can choose whoever he wants.

After all, who wouldn’t like a handsome young British man with a PhD in genetics—in other words, a super-genius? Besides, she used to say, Charles could make anyone like him.

He tries not to think too much about those words, their meaning, but the smile Raven gives him and the bitter taste they leave in his stomach make Charles wonder how much of the minds of the people he’s known have been influenced by him. Maybe that’s why he felt so out of place when he met his flirting targets, or why they never seemed to care about his disability, his constant limp.

The idea that people only like Charles because he controls their minds fills him with terror. It makes him think of his parents, who never truly trusted him. After all, if Charles Xavier were trustworthy, his mother wouldn’t be so distant, preferring to drink herself senseless, and his father would treat him like a normal boy instead of using him for his experiments. The X Gene, Brian said with a tight smile, was what ran through his veins, making him a mind reader, a mutant.

Charles curses his mutation every time he leaves the house, raising his shields until he gets headaches strong enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. The loneliness he felt before meeting Raven solidified in adulthood, solid iron walls that prevented him from seeing the sun outside and nothing but the mansion's hallways, his stepfather’s grumbling, and his sister’s yellow eyes. Charles often wonders if he should follow in his father’s footsteps and put a bullet in the head. But the reality that his little sister would be left in this world with Kurt Marko makes him sick inside. So he stays.

New York pubs are pathetic compared to those in Oxford, but Charles is too tired to care. Sipping a blue drink, he watches his sister—blond, strange, different—dance with boys older than her, always winning them over with her seductive, bold gaze. Charles knows Raven’s loneliness is greater than his, as he can still try to suppress his telepathy by taking drugs, but nothing can take away her ability to shapeshift. That’s why he lets her be whoever she wants at home, always keeping an eye on Kurt, of course. Raven deserves to be happy, so Charles will do everything he can to make that happen.

“Hi. I haven't seen you before.”

It’s a man, probably older than him. His face is serious, but he seems to be trying to blend in with the crowd. Charles isn't in the mood for conversation, if he’s being completely honest.

"Do you come here often?" the man asks.

"Actually, it's my first time. I'm accompanying my sister," is the reply, followed by a sip of his drink.

"Listen…" the guy leans in close, so that his mouth almost brushes Charles's ear, making him want to scream in joy and disbelief at the same time. "Why don't you let me buy you a beer—much better than that drink in your hand—and I'll take you home, hm?"

The idea is tempting. The words of affirmation burn on Charles’ tongue, but he remembers what Raven said about him getting whoever he wants. This stranger arrived out of nowhere, asking him out. Charles trembles at the thought of having influenced the other to talk to him, to offer to satisfy his desire to end his loneliness, and feels bile rise in his throat, even though he's sober. The man waits patiently beside him, not questioning Charles' hesitation, and this terrifies him even more.

"So, pretty thing, what's it going to be?" A rough, warm thumb touches Charles's face, and he tries not to lean into the touch. The man's eyes hold a curious glint.

"I… I can't go. My apologies," Charles stammers, the drink dangerously close to slipping through his fingers. "I can't leave my sister alone."

"Oh, don't worry, she seemed quite taken with my associate." The mysterious man chuckles softly, but without malice. "Look, this is a mutant bar. Anything, any movement or misstep you make, human, they'll notice. And that goes for your sister too. Trust me, the last thing you want is to be noticed."

Charles's throat goes dry. A mutant-only bar? Everyone seemed normal, including his interlocutor, or maybe it was the play of lights, a perfect trap for unsuspecting humans. He feels the temptation to say he's a telepath growing, but the fear of being discriminated against is even greater. No one likes people inside their heads, whether they're mutants or magical. Who knows what might happen if Charles reveals the burden he carries? Maybe they'll humiliate him for being ashamed of being a mutant, or they'll kick him out, telepaths never being allowed anywhere.

He thinks of Raven. Maybe she knew this was a mutant place all along, despite her refusal to appear normal. Charles finds himself torn between making himself known and causing a problem, or leaving things as they are.

"My sister's a mutant. Like I said, I'm just keeping track of her," he blurts out, quickly covering his lips with the glass, taking large, bitter gulps of the drink.

The man laughs loudly, a sound both strange and adorable. His hand lands, large and warm, like a furnace, on Charles's thigh, making him shiver. The metal groans loudly around him, and he's almost certain he knows his drinking companion's mutation, even though he's the only one with alcohol in his hand.

"Oh, my friend, why lie? Are you ashamed of being a telepath?"

Charles feels his blood run cold, a tight knot forming in the pit of his stomach. He raises his shields sharply, startled, and stands up, nearly knocking over the stool he was sitting on, still gripping the glass tightly like a weapon. The stranger grasps his free hand tenderly, though it's firm.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You're not the only one capable of reading minds here." His gaze softens, and Charles feels the metal head of his cane, which is near the stool he nearly knocked over, hum. "There's a telepath on our team, Emma Frost. She told me to go easy on you."

Charles sits back down and looks in the direction the man is pointing. There, in the back, near Raven and the person she's talking to, is the telepath, a sharp-eyed blonde woman. Almost as soon as their gazes meet, he feels a curious nudge against his mental shields. Still suspicious, Charles doesn't give in, though he sends a telepathic greeting followed by a tense smile.

"My name is Erik. I control metal."

"I'm Charles," he says, now feeling Erik's warm mental signature, something akin to liquid metal, enveloping his mind, a greeting. The telepathic woman must have taught him how to do this. "I…actually noticed your mutation when you touched my leg. The metal around us started making a lot of noise."

Erik's cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink and he laughs. It's gentler than the first time, a little shy, as if he hadn't expected to be caught. Erik's hand takes Charles' glass and places it on the counter, now taking both of the psychic's hands in his, a contrast between hot and cold.

It doesn't seem like he's being mind-controlled.

"Now that we know we're both equal, do you accept my offer? I won't bite unless you want me to." Erik winks seductively, rivaling Charles' own tactics when he was drunk.

The telepath takes a deep breath. Despite the evidence, he can't help but fear there's some mind-control involved, if not of him, then of the blond woman. Perhaps he's just a scheme in their game, since his mutation allows him to know what no one else knows. He doesn't mind playing the hero and saving the world, not at all, but messing with someone's feelings is a line he's unwilling to cross.

"How do I know this is real?" Charles asks.

Erik tilts his head, confused. "What do you mean?"

Charles taps twice beside his temple. Based on reports from other companions, he knows this is when the fantasy will shatter, when Erik will discover someone is messing with his mind. Charles isn't sure if he'd rather leave heartbroken or dead, the hot, bubbling metal squeezing his throat.

"Ah." Erik's eyes soften. His thumb strokes the soft skin on the back of Charles's hand. "I promise it's real, Charles."

The telepath's cane trembles, and the metal gently transforms into a heart. Charles exhales through his nose, enchanted by the other's mutation. In a blink, the metal returns to normal. Erik is smiling softly.

"I still have full control of my mutation. Emma taught me to fight mind control, anyway. So don't worry. It's okay, and yes, I'm flirting with you of my own free will." Erik's smile widens, making him look like a cartoon shark. "Of course, my initial approach was to find out who you were, I confess. We're not very human-friendly."

A less tense smile threatens to appear on Charles' face as well. Suddenly, being a mutant didn't seem so bad anymore. There were many like him in this place. Even so, his guard is still up, his shields impenetrable. He's been taught not to get too attached. After all, he would still return to the mansion, and his stepfather would still exist, even if Charles is an adult and could kill him with a snap of his fingers.

"Please, Charles, accept my offer," Erik insists, already standing and leaving a tip for the bartender, a man as red as a demon, whom Charles hadn't even noticed before. "You're not in danger, nor is your sister."

"Can I tell her where I'm going, at least?" Charles asks timidly, and Erik's nod makes him relax.

He picks up his cane and makes his way to where he last saw her, his eyes never leaving her even as he spoke to Erik. He won't tell Erik he's untrustworthy, that not even his sister trusts him with his telepathy, something the older mutant seems to do without any qualms. He wants to console himself with the fact that a handsome guy is taking him home tonight and he's going to have a good fuck, after all this time. If Charles is lucky enough to find Erik's favor, maybe he can make him stay.

"Raven?" he grumbles, seeing his sister's familiar scaly shoulder. What he sees makes him want to burn his retinas out.

It is indeed his sister he finds in one of the adjacent rooms, but she's straddling a blue-haired man, and they seem quite engrossed in whatever they're doing, as Charles has to clear his throat to get her attention and is met with yellow eyes filled with fury at his intrusion.

"What is it, Charles?" Raven growls, panting.

"I… I'm going out, okay? I'm spending the rest of the night with this guy I met."

Raven says nothing. Charles knows the words swirling around in her head, things he's heard since he started dating people. So he doesn't bother waiting for an answer, choosing to retreat, his face burning.

"See? I told you it was okay," Erik says when he returns, probably having an inkling of what Charles saw, his cheeks flushed like tomatoes. "Come on. Hey, Azazel! Close for me later, I'm going out with the gorgeous guy here."

Charles feels himself blush even more at the compliment. He was used to flirting, using his accent in the process, nicknames like "darling" or "love" rolling off his tongue like thick honey. Being the recipient of compliments, especially with Erik's thick accent, leaves him surprised and vulnerable. He doesn't know if that's a good thing or not.

 

Erik's apartment is small but tidy, filled with small metal ornaments that chirp happily when their creator enters the house. Like happy cats seeing their owner back. It seems a peaceful place, just like the man beside him. He never once let go of Charles's hand, which made the telepath much more relaxed than when he was at the bar. It felt good. It almost made him forget his troubles.

But before he can even think to say anything, Erik pushes him against the door, lips pressing together. Charles lets out a startled groan, the cane falling to the floor with a loud crack. This makes Erik stop and step back. Embarrassed, Charles stammers, trying to apologize for the inconvenience and already starting to kick the cane away, but Erik silences him with a finger to his lips.

"I don't care. Did I hurt you?"

Eyes wide, Charles shakes his head. He expects Erik to take him roughly, as he clearly intended, but the mutant cups the telepath's face tenderly and kisses him softly, chastely, slowly moving his lips over Charles's. Charles allows himself to sigh and lean his hands on Erik's shoulders. Trust was the first step to a successful relationship. Apparently, the one who needed to cross that line was himself.

"Don't be afraid of me. I won't hurt you. Remember, you're not in danger," Erik whispers against his lips, one hand reaching down to tug Charles's shirt from his pants. This makes the telepath let out a startled squeak.

"L-let me give you a blowjob first. Then you can do whatever you want with me," he says, kneeling, groaning in pain as his bad leg hits the floor with great force. His hands fumble with Erik's belt.

"Not on the floor!" Erik exclaims, carefully pulling Charles up before anything else happens. Erik examines him with affectionate eyes. "You'd better do this with me lying down. I don't want your leg to hurt."

"Oh, sure." Charles sighs, gripping his cane tighter than necessary as he follows Erik. It's as if he's being exposed to another telepath, except the other man isn't one.

Again, the idea of ​​mind control terrifies him, and he raises his shields. But he tries not to add to the tension, for Erik is undressing in front of him, shirt and pants falling to the floor with a flick of his fingers, the metal squeaking happily as Charles watches him strip completely naked, his half-hard cock exposed, large and circumcised. Jewish. Erik is Jewish. And, judging by the numbers on his left arm, one who has seen the terrors of the War.

"It's a beauty tattoo, isn't it?" Erik says sarcastically, arranging pillows on the bed so Charles can prop himself up and lie on his stomach, but clearly noticing that his arm is being watched. "That's why our bar exists. Of course, we have in mind the fun of other mutants who don't feel comfortable in common places of leisure, but the main goal is to find humans who know where our target is. Schmidt is a threat, he's the tattoo artist. And a disgusting Nazi, which doubles the charge."

Charles looks at Erik's arms in a new light. They're covered in scars and needle holes, like his own. A growing sympathy for this survivor of experimentation blossoms in Charles's heart, not just passion and lust. And for the first time, he feels the urge to lower his shields for someone else, even though he knows there will be plenty of suffering and bad memories in Erik's mind.

"Don't let that thought intimidate you, pretty thing," the older mutant says, already settled into bed. "I brought you here to relax and feel good. Now, show me what you can do."

Leaving his cane leaning against the wall, Charles makes his way to the bed, still fully dressed except for his shoes. This makes Erik raise an eyebrow as he watches him settle back onto the cushions.

"Fully dressed, Charles?"

The telepath nods shyly. Trying to shake off his embarrassment, he wraps one hand around Erik's cock, starting at the base, pumping slowly. His hand is dry, which will make the process much slower.

Do you have lube or something? he asks, barely aware that his shields are down, his telepathy wanting to jump into Erik's mind, like a dog finding a new playmate. But Erik stiffens and is a little startled.

"I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to do that." Charles sits up quickly, hands out in defense, though they're useless against a guy who controls metal. But Erik seems to relax when he realizes it's Charles.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it." A gentle, caring smile stretches Erik's face, a far cry from that shark-like grin at the bar. "Here."

A small bottle of lube is thrust into Charles's nervous hands. He fumbles with the cap a bit, but soon some of the viscous contents are in his hands, and he can better pump Erik's cock. It's not his first time with a man, but it's been so long since he's allowed himself to be with someone he's truly attracted to that it's something new, figuring out how to make someone feel pleasure.

"That's good, Charles," Erik gasps, smiling, as Charles's finger grazes his slit. A thin layer of sweat covers his forehead. "But I thought you were going to give me a blowjob. Those pink lips of yours must be talented at something more, right?"

A lovely blush covers Charles's cheeks and he flicks out his tongue, gently licking the head of Erik's cock. Erik grunts, his smile widening. This gives the telepath a bit of confidence, so he gives it another lick and slowly begins to take the man's cock into his mouth, his head making short up-and-down movements, each time taking in more. One of Erik's hands rests in the hair on the back of Charles's neck, which he takes as a sign he's doing right.

"Fuck, Charles, yes!" Erik grunts, his hips lifting slightly, thrusting into Charles's mouth. Charles uses his ankle to steady himself and withstand Erik's small movement. "You're doing great, fuck, yes!"

Encouraged by the praise, Charles continues to suck Erik, feeling him grow harder than when he first touched him. The sensation of sucking another man will always excite Charles, feeling Erik grow harder and harder in his mouth, the gentle movements of his thrusts indicating Erik is enjoying it.

Charles's mind is dangerously close to Erik's, a subtle link the telepath holds with all his might. It's still too early to truly believe he's not being rejected by his mutation. Even though it has landed him in the home of another mutant, a handsome one with an impressive gift and an even more impressive cock.

"C-Charles, stop," Erik says, pushing Charles's head back. His cock, swollen and engorged with blood, glistens with Charles's saliva. "I want to fuck you before I come."

This makes Charles shiver. He's no longer eighteen, and he no longer has the physique that used to make boys and girls envious. Since his accident, he's gained a bit of weight, which has lowered his self-esteem. The handsome ones don't like even the slightest bit of fat around the sides, even though his sister says he's not fat, just soft and smooth, a sign he's recovering well.

Sometimes, Charles captures Raven's nightmares of the time; he was nothing more than a scrawny boy in the hospital. So, he should be proud of his body now, but that's not how it works in his brain.

Erik doesn't seem to be aware of Charles's internal struggle, as his hands begin to touch him, trying to remove his clothes while his lips leave trails of kisses and his tongue drags along Charles's jaw and neck. The telepath stiffens, somewhat unsure of what to do, as he is slowly eased into a sitting position on the bed, simply letting the metalbender do as he pleases.

When, however, Erik's hands touch the fly of his pants, Charles freaks out, his breath hitching, and his hands push Erik's away. The haze of lust lifts, leaving in its place the stark reality of fear and the demons lurking within Charles.

"Hey, what's up?" Erik's hands move to Charles's arms, thumbs stroking the fabric of his shirt. "Are you okay?"

"I…" Charles takes a deep breath, feeling strangely agonized. "I can pleasure you in other ways; you don't have to fuck me."

"But I'd like to. I'd like to hold you, kiss you, touch you while I fuck you." Erik gently strokes Charles's cheek with his knuckles. "We don't have to do any of that, though, if you don't want to. We can just lie here and rest."

Charles leans into the touch, wanting to say so many things to Erik, but the words won't come. And he doesn't want to use his telepathy. He's not big like Erik, he's not muscular, nor does he have an interesting mutation. People are afraid of him and think he's weird because he wears the clothes he does. Raven thinks he wins people over through telepathy. He thinks no one likes him.

So, when Erik touches him like that, respects his boundaries without even knowing what's happening, Charles doesn't know what to think. So, he cries.

Sobbing shakes his shoulders as he covers his mouth in shame, and tears blur his vision, some streaming down his flushed cheeks. Charles hadn't realized how overwhelmed he is, how exhausting hiding from everything and everyone is, until now.

He covers his face, not wanting to see Erik's eyes, who must be disgusted at him, in this weak thing he is. Charles shouldn't even be useful in their hunt against Schmidt, because he's pathetic and weak. His parents were right, and so was his stepfather. Charles Xavier is nothing more than a pretty face, who used to pick up girls at university and who is the heir to his family's fortune.

But then, he feels a wave of love push against his shields, shyly. So he pulls his hands away from his face and forces himself to look into Erik's eyes, eyes filled with concern and affection. The metalbender's feelings still push against Charles's mind, as if Erik is waiting for him to let him in. Oh, and how Charles would love to, but he's afraid.

"Is there something on my face?" he jokes, trying to lighten the mood, but the tears still streaming down his freckled cheeks negate any happiness. Erik laughs softly.

"Yes, there is, Charles. A pain and sadness I wasn't aware of." Erik's lips touch Charles's forehead. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No… It wasn't you. I'm sorry for ruining your night."

"Don't worry about me, Charles. But I've realized you've been hiding something from me, and I can't accept it. And maybe that's why I can't help you."

Then, like magic, Charles listens, very softly.

Read my mind, Charles. Lower the shields and come in. You won't hurt me.

A single tear makes its last path down Charles's cheek before Erik takes his hand and places it against his temple, the familiar tingling Charles has been trying to avoid growing stronger, more desperate. Then, Charles closes his eyes and lets himself fall, like someone lost, knowing they can't reach dry land without passing through the raging sea of ​​pain and fear.

As Charles expected, Erik's mind is filled with pain. Between screams and the terrible smell of death, he visualizes a woman, shot to the head, the cynical smile of a Nazi, the son of the devil, and the growl of a soul wounded by loss and a guilt that shouldn't be there. There are more, of course, flashes of laboratory tables, of nails digging into tattooed skin, and of blood filling his mouth. Erik's pain is far greater than Charles imagined. And yet, Erik didn't hide it.

It's almost as if he's proposing a trade. Sharing the pain. So, Charles drops his shields completely.

There's the loneliness and the hum of Brian Xavier's machine, the shards of glass from a broken bottle near him, and the pain of his stepfather's violence, his threats to touch Raven; college, the blurred faces, nights of pleasure that weren't Charles's, his sister's words hurting him more and more, making him slowly shrink into himself, believing that no one truly loves him, that no one wants him. The accident, the fire, Kurt's hands, people's screams. The first time the man didn't try to hurt him, the weight loss, the slow weight gain, the shame, the sadness.

Inside his mind, Charles screams until he can't anymore, until he feels like he could spit blood. There's so much self-hatred that he and Erik could rival each other. An endless torment, where their memories intertwine, where Charles sees more and more of Erik, while the other man discovers who he truly is beneath the good guy mask. Charles Xavier is nothing but a failure.

Suddenly, the screams stop. The telepath sees nothing but darkness and, in the distance, the soft glow of their minds, joined together, like a gentle embrace. There's love and admiration everywhere, impossible to tell which of them it belongs to. A single heart, beating strongly, covering all the bruises with something Charles hasn't felt in a long time, and Erik hasn't felt either. Tenderness.

"You're okay," Erik says. Charles opens his eyes, which are swollen with tears. Erik, too, is emotionally shaken. "We're okay. Nothing will hurt you now."

Charles just nods, letting Erik pull him close, his cheek pressed against his chest, feeling the slow pulse of his heart and the gentle fingers playing with his hair. There's a river-like current in their minds, comforting. Charles hasn't felt this in a long time. Not since Raven severed their bond and growled at Charles to stay out of her mind, as if Charles would hurt her.

"You're not a failure. You were afraid. You suffered," Erik says softly, his arms tightening around the little man in his lap. "I hated my mutation so much when my mother died. But after I discovered I could kill my enemies and avenge her blood, I began to reconcile with myself."

"I have no one else to kill," Charles mutters. It's a lie, and they both know it, because Kurt is there in Charles's ridiculously large house, a constant threat to his sanity.

"Then don't kill. Think about how you're able to turn a monster like me into someone kind." Erik gently pushes Charles away so he can kiss his mouth. "You won me over, Charles. And it has nothing to do with your telepathy. But I feel less alone because of it. Because you're here."

"You're not a monster," Charles says with a tired sigh, his arms wrapping around Erik's neck in the firm embrace of someone still afraid. "You lost what was most important to you."

Then Charles takes Erik's arm, the one with the tattoo, and kisses the stained skin, tears still streaming down his cheeks. He needs to find some way to thank the universe for sending someone to prove he's worth something, that he's not a complete failure.

But then Charles notices Erik staring at his right arm. And Charles knows what he sees. The attempts to forcibly inhibit his mutation, to drug himself, to cease existing. And anger burns so brightly in Erik's eyes, but his thoughts are filled with care and concern, and the unwavering desire to prove Charles wrong about himself.

Charles is carefully laid back on the bed, Erik on top of him. Their lips meet in a desperate kiss, a cacophony of emotions taking them both by storm, leaving Charles breathless. He kisses back, feeling Erik's hands unbutton his shirt, his powers unbuckle his belt. The warm, intoxicating contact of skin against skin is enough to make Charles whimper.

And then Erik is kissing his chest, his stomach, and leaving little hickeys on the soft, pale skin of his torso.

"You're so beautiful. So soft. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" Erik lifts his head so Charles sees the truth in his eyes, even though his mind is screaming it. "This is a sign that you're okay, that you're recovering, that that accident didn't bring you down."

The kisses continue, moving up to his neck, the adoration never ending. Charles feels so overwhelmed with love, with the knowledge that he's desired by someone, and it makes him hard. It's been a long time since he's allowed himself to feel pleasure with another person. He's relieved it's with Erik.

"Ah, you like compliments." Erik laughs, leaning down and kissing the tip of Charles's cock. "Good boy."

Charles's cock is small but thick and clearly happy with the attention it's receiving, because it begins to leak pre-cum. Erik licks a stripe from the base to the tip before taking it into his mouth, making Charles arch his back and let out a moan he tries to stifle.

Don't stifle your sounds, Charles. No one will hear us. You can show me how much you love having my mouth on your cock.

Erik sucks Charles's cock greedily, one hand massaging his balls. The telepath's fingers grip the metalbender's hair as he whimpers, Erik's name constantly on his tongue as he is pleasured. The explicit images Erik throws at Charles don't help matters.

"S-so… So good, ugh!" Charles cries out as Erik focuses on the head of his cock specifically, his tongue pushing against his slit, teasing every nerve ending. "Oh, Erik, fuck!"

Erik pulls Charles's cock out of his mouth with a pop and smiles. Just like Erik himself before, now it's Charles who's pushed to the brink, the physical contact after so long clearly helping to stimulate him further.

Charles is panting, flushed, and his legs trembling. He can't remember the last time someone sucked his cock, but God, it feels amazing. He runs a hand through Erik's hair, still in disbelief at everything that's happening, his life turned upside down in one night.

"Now, I'm going to fuck you. Are you okay with that?" Erik asks, moving up to kiss Charles on the lips. "You, all for me. Me buried inside you, filling you with my seed."

Charles lets out a moan that he clearly tries to stifle, which makes Erik smile even wider.

"Tell me if you want this, Charles. I want to hear it come out of your mouth."

"I want it."

"Want what, Charles?"

The telepath's ears turn red.

"I want you to fuck me."

"That's it, good boy." Erik purrs and pulls the lube toward him by the metal cap, squeezing some of the contents onto his fingers.

A cool finger touches Charles's entrance, circling the puckered skin, before the tip slowly forces its way inside. The telepath lets out a sharp gasp, which intensifies when Erik's free hand comes up to pump his cock.

"So tight… you haven't been fucked in a while, have you?" Erik says softly, as if it's a secret. "Don't worry about it, I'll make you feel like you're on cloud nine."

One finger turns to two, forcing their way into Charles's ass, and he begins to move his hips. Erik is blessed with long, bony fingers that threaten to touch his prostate every time they go deep, and Charles wants nothing more than to chase that sensation and lose himself in it.

After finger-fucking Charles for a long time, Erik removes them, watching Charles's asshole contract with the empty sensation. He lubricates his own cock with more lube and aligns himself with Charles's entrance, adjusting it on the mattress so he's comfortable, a pillow where he knows it hurts.

"I want you to promise me something, Charles," he says, their noses brushing against each other. "Don't put up your shields. Let go. I want to feel you."

Charles's eyes widen at the request, memories flooding his mind, but before he can think straight, Erik thrusts in, and his cock enters Charles, making him cry out. Erik is big. This makes the metalbender go slower, giving Charles time to adjust to the burning.

"Damn, you're so tight," Erik moans, pressing their foreheads together, one hand in Charles's hair, his fingers still sticky from the used lube.

Slowly, Erik begins to move, almost pulling out before thrusting hard, pushing himself inside Charles and making him jump, another moan escaping. Erik can feel the sensation of Charles being fucked, a strong, intoxicating telepathic feedback.

"Faster, Erik, please!"

"Who am I to deny such a polite request?" Erik teases, giving Charles a slow, gentle kiss.

Charles's world turns upside down once more as Erik increases the speed of his thrusts, brushing against his prostate with each thrust. Charles's tongue can't say anything other than Erik's name.

"Fuck, Erik, so good! More, more!"

He feels the tears stinging his eyes and lets them fall, his telepathy spiraling out of control, projecting the joy he feels, the fear, his own pleasure mixed with Erik's. He needs to touch himself.

"Ah! Ah!" Erik holds both of Charles's hands above his head, the metal of the headboard curling around them enough that Charles can't pull them away. "None of that. You can't touch yourself now. You're going to come on my cock without touching yourself."

Charles groans dramatically, but it becomes real when a firm thrust hits his prostate hard.

"Agh!"

"That's it, moan for me, Charles, let me know how much you like me fucking you. You little slut."

Normally, Charles would be too embarrassed to be called that these days—since it's been so long since he's had a good fuck—but now, he just groans in response.

"Agh, yes! Fuck!"

It feels good. He feels Erik's mind, the lust that envelops them, making their bond stronger, more stable. It scares him, the idea of a mind-meld, but he remembers Erik's words, not to suppress the telepathy, so he lets go. He hopes Erik will forgive him.

"There's nothing to forgive, Charles," Erik says breathlessly, gripping the telepath's hips tightly as he increases his speed, watching Charles's cock leak pre-cum. "I want you on my mind. Mutants belong together. Mutant and proud. That goes… That goes for you too."

Maybe it's those words, maybe it's the feedback from their minds, maybe it's just him, but Charles feels himself getting closer to coming, his untouched, aching cock growing erect, brushing against his stomach.

"Erik, Erik, Erik, I'm going to—"

"Come for me, Charles, come on my cock."

Charles comes, hot spurts of cum spreading across his chest, splashing a little onto his stomach. Erik's hand strokes his hair as he whimpers, growing sensitive, and his other hand strokes his cock until every last drop of cum comes out.

It doesn't take long for Erik to reach his limit. Charles waits for Erik to come inside him, since it's what usually happens, but nothing prepares him for the sight of Erik pumping his cock against his stomach.

"Ugh, Charles, Charles, Charles…"

With a shaky sigh, Erik comes too, smearing most of Charles' belly and chest with his cum, moaning Charles's name over and over. Erik rests his trembling hands on the mattress, breathing deeply.

And then, he spreads his own semen across Charles' belly.

"Look at you, all covered in my cum, that beautiful belly of yours full of me."

Charles blushes, a little embarrassed.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, love." Erik kisses his cheek. "You're beautiful. Everything about you."

Carefully, Erik picks Charles up, carrying him to the bathroom and leaving him sitting on the toilet seat. Erik begins to draw a bath, filling the tub with warm water, adding some bubbles, and adding some oils he knows are good muscle relaxers.

Charles sighs as he sinks into the water, leaning against Erik's chest. He feels… good. Still lost in the post-sex haze, but for the first time, he doesn't feel that same heaviness that used to always weigh him down.

"Did you bring me here just because I looked suspicious?" Charles chuckles softly.

"The technique is to get suspects, especially the pretty ones, to have a night with one of us," Erik explains, his fingers wiping the dried cum from Charles's stomach. "But you, besides being gorgeous, are a mutant. So, that was a bonus. And I can't bear to part with you now."

"So, would you let me hunt Schmidt with you?"

Erik's eyes widen. "Charles, you don't have to—"

"I want to. We both want the same thing. Justice." Charles turns, facing Erik. "But on one condition."

"And what would that be?"

"Help me end my torment."

Charles knows Erik is aware of who he's referring to. So he allows himself to relax once more as Erik kisses him again and again.

He's not alone anymore. That's enough for now.

Notes:

I intend for this to be a fanfic series covering at least part of the X-Men: First Class plot. If I can, I'll try to take this AU all the way to Dark Phoenix. Leave a kudo and a comment; I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of XMFC AU