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It is no end of frustration for Charles that the best sex of his life has always, always been with Erik Lehnsherr.
When they first met, Erik was in that wet suit, showing off his absurd proportions and making Charles's mouth water (fortunately, having just been dipped in the Atlantic, he had an excuse for the water dripping down his face-- oh, all right, he wasn't literally drooling, but in his mind, his tongue was hanging out of his mouth and cartoon hearts had replaced his eyes). Barely a day and a half later, when Erik first walked out on him (and Charles should have realized where all this was going when that happened; it was the first time of so many), they ended up in bed, and Erik was--
Erik was--
He chalked it up, at first, to Erik's long history of celibacy. Punctuated by a few encounters here and there, most of Erik's adult life had been spent alone, and so the fact that Erik lavished attention on him, expected nothing from him, touched him and kissed him and made love to him as though the only thing in the world that mattered to him was touching Charles and no one else could ever exist for him… it seemed par for Erik's unusual course.
And if Charles was besotted after that, well, no one could exactly blame him.
The second time Erik walked out on him was far worse, and the sort of thing Charles would have been well within his rights never to forgive. Charles didn't blame Erik for the bullet-- Charles ought to have known better than to take to his feet while Moira was firing a gun in his direction and Erik was deflecting bullets that could have, did, go anywhere-- but the way he left Charles on the beach… the way he didn't come back… the way he took Raven with him… those, he could blame Erik for.
Charles, unlike Erik, had no interest in remaining celibate. There were other men, other women, things Charles enjoyed and could still enjoy even after the injury. Sensation was dull but still there-- that, in fact, was what inspired the mobility aspects of Hank's serum, in the end.
And yet.
Charles was a telepath, and therefore Charles was expected to be selfless in bed. He could ride along with his partner's orgasm. He didn't even need to touch his partner, and his partners certainly didn't need to touch him.
Fuck that.
So.
Erik fucking Lehnsherr.
The airplane restrom; the hotel in Paris; the days and nights when Erik swept into Charles's life, again and again, and nothing had changed between them in bed, or little enough that it all seemed like that summer in 1962 all over again. Erik touched him, kissed him, caressed him; followed Charles's lead, and took directions easily. Charles's erogenous zones had shifted, sensitive spots had sprung up above the waist, but a lover--
a partner.
A partner who'd caress Charles's neck while sucking Charles's nipples, as hard and as long as Charles wanted, until sparks were shooting behind Charles's eyes and he was coming, gasping out Erik's name, again and again…
If fucking only it could have been anyone but Erik Lehnsherr.
It was a human failing that frequent, magnificent sex tended to make the heart and mind and cock grow fonder of a person. The fact that Erik had shifted his war against humans from offense to defense gave Charles grudging amounts of help, as well-- yes, Erik tended to swoop in and make a speech before rescuing mutants from various situations (and yes, some of those situations were hardly life-and-death; really, Erik, the fact that mutant children were receiving substandard education and being forced into ‘special education' classes might not, in fact, have warranted dropping in from out of the sky and taking them to the city's best junior high school, demanding their placement in better classes and giving stone-cold glares that promised retribution should their tuition not be paid for by a new mutant scholarship), but there were no more stadiums being lifted and carted across cities, and after all, that was something.
And so, at last, Charles told Erik, "You ought to stay. You ought to stay here, where we can fuck on a regular schedule, instead of pretending this is some sort of clandestine affair."
And at last, Erik said, "I thought you'd never ask."