Chapter Text
It’s not that Erik is particularly.. surprised, really, at this turn of events. They’ve been in the back of his mind every day since those arms wrapped around him from behind and pulled him above the surface of the water. He just never thought they’d see the light of day, resigned to intrusive thoughts when Charles’s tongue darted out to wet his lips mid sentence, thoughts Erik buried deep down in the case that Charles heard them from his mind. Or chained away as late night fantasies when he was alone in bed with his own thoughts and a hand working beneath the sheets.
It had been like any other night, really. The children, as Charles had taken to calling them (when really some of them were hardly younger than Charles himself), were all retired to their rooms or somewhere quiet in the manor. So Charles and Erik were in one of the multiple study-slash-lounges, an overly large and ornate room with big fancy paintings made of delicate brushstrokes incased in intricately carved frames lining the walls, and a large fireplace against another. It was a room they had ended up in many times in the weeks at the manor, if only because it contained the chess set. It was originally set on a table, prim and proper, with two opposite chairs. But they had since moved it to the center of the room, in-front of the fireplace and on the coffee table, angled at a diagonal where they sat together on the big plush couch that had probably cost more money alone than Erik had ever had in his life.
So they were sitting, and they were talking, and they were playing chess, and they were drinking. All of which were common occurrence, a routine at this point. Some scotch or brandy or whiskey, late night talks about anything that came to mind (Early life memories and traumas, current happenings, shared experiences as mutants, meaningless nothings, and sometimes even delving into the politics of it all. They tended to avoid that one, though, as it always left a bit of a sour taste and got them no closer to agreement). It was all normal. Except, perhaps they had been drinking more than they usually would. It was a particularly stressful day, anyways. Trouble with the children, intense training, an overall heightened mood all around.
So perhaps they indulged more than the usual glass or two, maybe they were so far as to being on their fourth or fifth, and maybe they had somehow shifted closer than necessary, like their own magnetic force, one so strong even Erik had no hope of ever getting a control on it. And maybe Charles had a strange look in his eye that sent heat down Erik’s spine, a look that told his intoxicated thoughts maybe he wasn’t the only one with forbidden late night fantasies, left wondering briefly how the other would taste.
That theory would be confirmed much sooner than Erik had thought.
“You’re cheating!” Erik laughed, shaking his head. If it were anyone else, he probably would’ve jumped to frustration or anger, and perhaps he was just drunk enough not to care, or perhaps everything Charles did was endearing to him.
“What?! I would never-“ Charles had started, but Erik could see that smile he was trying to bite down, and he had just felt that warm presence of Charles in his mind, snuck in like a spy as Erik had stared at the board to try and come up with his winning strategy (a task he found much harder to do while nursing his fourth.. or was it fifth? glass of the night. He suspected the same reason why Charles convinced himself to cheat in the first place)
“I’m disappointed in you, Professor.” Erik admonished, but there was no bite to his bark and he had his big toothy grin on his face. He remembered once, when he was in his early twenties, a girl he had been on-and-off seeing told him his big, true grin was off putting. That it made him seem like a predatory beast stalking a bit of prey. Charles had never seemed to mind, though. If anything his own grin sparkled when Erik’s bled through.
“I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about.” Charles lied, and he was clearly just being cheeky now, that grin playing on his pretty pink lips, staring down at the board and refusing to look up and meet Erik’s eye.
“Bullshit. I know when you’re in my mind, Charles. You can’t hide from me.” Erik laughed, rolling his eyes as he glanced down at the board again, far more sparse than when they had began this game (which was at least the seventh of the night, and one of the longer of the group, but neither of them had made any push to go to bed yet)
“Im offended you think i’d actually stoop as low as to che-“ Charles had stopped mid sentence, and Erik had heard the way his breath caught in his throat, and the sound sent a shiver through his skin. Because Charles had finally looked up as he was speaking, and realized very quickly just how much that magnetic pull had brought them together.
They had migrated closer together on the couch all night, so much so they even had to lean a bit to see the board from a more proper angle when taking their turns rather than the skewed and crooked direction. And in their back and forth, Erik had leaned down at some point, as Charles had ducked to hide his eye. But now Charles had sat up more, and they were face to face, and much closer than anticipated. Only maybe a third of a meter apart, and it was shocking enough of a position it had knocked the air right out of Charles.
And again, there was that look. That look Erik had told himself all night was just wishful thinking, or perhaps misreading Charles all together. It was shockingly hard to interpret the thoughts and emotions of a mind reader. But it was unmistakable now, as Charles eyes dared to flutter down, to where Erik’s slowed mind realized were his lips. And that look could really only be described in a word. Heat.
“That I’d.. uhm..” Charles was trying to speak again, finish his thought, but he hadn’t moved away and his eyes were still suspiciously glued to the lower half of Erik’s face, and his tone had dropped to a hushed, heavier one. And Erik wasn’t sure who had moved first, but he thought it might’ve been himself.
Charles tasted like scotch and basil and something else just so inexplicably him. He had made a sound of surprise when their lips connected, as if he hadn’t met Erik halfway and instantly raised a hand to hold him there by the jaw. Erik was very drunk, and so was Charles, and briefly he wondered if this was a bad idea, some type of taking advantage or manipulation. But then again, really, if either of the two of them had the power to manipulate someone’s will, it certainly wasn’t Erik.
Kissing Charles was both everything and nothing like he had imagined it, and Erik had imagined it a few different ways. Sometimes he was soft and gentle and innocent, the docile lamb to Erik’s predatory lion. And he was, in a way, soft and gentle. His lips were smooth and glided with a motion that seemed almost ethereal, but that wasn’t all it was. Sometimes he imagined it as fiery and passionate, all clashing of teeth and rough hands and desperation. And again, in a way, it was. Charles was kissing him like he craved it, like a man who had never known water finding a glistening oasis stream. Sometimes a sound would slip from the back of his throat like an animal in heat that made Erik’s mind spin.
Kissing Charles was like the intensities of heaven and hell meeting in the middle and exploding in a ball of godly fire. Perhaps Charles was God himself, all powerful and made of otherworldly perfection. Perhaps Erik was just drunk.
He didn’t register his hands had found their way to Charles waist, to the twill fabric of his button down shirt (that he had casually unbuttoned the top two buttons of earlier in the night, clearly warm from the fire roaring in the hearth, and it had taken dedication for Erik not to stare), until he realized he was pulling Charles towards him, and the other man was going willingly, sliding his knee over Erik’s thighs until he was quite literally in his lap.
If you had told Erik this morning that his night would have ended with the one and only Dr. Charles Francis Xavier straddling him with his tongue pushing between his lips like a cat, he’d have assumed you meant in his dreams. But this was very real, something he was reminded of when Charles fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck and fucking pulled. Just gently, like it was a reflex, and the action sent so much desire and need through Erik’s mind he was sure Charles could sense it even if he wasn’t trying to delve into his psyche.
They only broke apart for air, and that itself lasted no time before Erik found the skin of Charles jaw, down and down to his neck, a symphony of sounds filling his ears from Charles lips. It was nothing loud, you probably wouldn’t be able to hear a thing from only a few feet away, but right here, with his face pressed into the crook of his pale neck and those pretty lips inches away from Erik’s ears, he could hear it like a song. His breath hitching or shuddering, gasps and small whines from the back of his throat. It was music, melodic and perfect.
And Charles nails were scratching at the bottom of Erik’s skull, he wasn’t sure if Charles was using his abilities to recognize just how much he liked it or if he was just that obvious, but either way it only ignited him as he felt their drag and pull at the base of his neck. They were playing a dangerous game that neither had any intention on forfeiting.
“Oh, darling..” Charles voice was breathy and needy and angelic, like a sirens song to Erik’s ears. He had never found he particularly cared one way or another about accents, never focused on whether someone he was pursuing had pronounced their vowels a certain way or had a certain lilt to their voice. But oh how he found he adored Charles accent. That ridiculous posh twist to his words, a voice that oozed the evidence of a wealthy background, of growing up with etiquette lessons and charity balls and tailored clothes.
And this time, Erik was definitely sure Charles was abusing his powers to find what made Erik tick, because he ducked his head down to Erik’s ear, his breath hot and ghosting over the skin there, and he spoke in a tone that was all too knowing, Erik could practically hear the smirk, the intentionality of it.
“I need you to touch me” And who was Erik to deny God of his requests? With a hand on the side of his head he pulled them back together at the lips, the other pressing against the blood-swollen heat between his legs, through the top of his trousers. And Charles was whimpering into the kiss, hips instinctively pushing forward against Erik’s palm, and even if he were stone cold sober right now Erik was sure he’d feel just as dizzy.
Ironically, being with Charles was a lot like drowning. All encompassing and suffocating and almost unreal feeling, like your mind might be playing tricks on you and the whole thing was a delusion from the start. Though, as someone who had now gotten close enough to both, he much preferred this.
Charles still had one hand pressed to the base of Erik’s skull, a dull press, and the other had moved to pull the black sweater Erik had been wearing from where it was tucked beneath his belt, sliding his smooth palm against the ridges of Erik’s abdomen beneath the wool fabric. A smooth, gentle, adventurous hand that clearly hadn’t known a day of manual labor, soft and mesmerizing as it roamed like it was mapping the lands of Erik’s body.
They broke apart again, this time from a surprised moan stuttering out of those pretty lips, an intense wave of desire washing over Erik’s mind that wasn’t his own, a wave he didn’t even think was intentional on the telepaths end, which only inspired the realization of how different it would be to be with someone who did not only show their arousal through touch and speech, but could make you experience it from every direction with the power of only their mind.
The reaction was drawn out from Erik pressing more firmly against Charles, fingers curling to cup him as much as he could through the rough material of his trousers. He imagined they looked a bit like two insatiable teenagers, exploring unmarked territory and clawing and pulling at each other like their lives depended on it, like it was a requirement similar of that to water or food or oxygen.
And subconsciously, or rather telepathically, there was a flash through Erik’s mind like a vision or an inspiring urge, pushing him towards the action of pulling at the little bronze plated button clasping the fabric together.
And Charles was panting above him, his hips rocking like he couldn’t sit still in anticipation, and Erik was peppering open mouthed kisses against his jaw when that sirens voice spoke again.
“Come on, sweetheart, take them off.” it was a twisted tone of his own creation, so explicitly full of need and demand and desperation, like he was simultaneously ordering Erik’s action and pleading with him at the alter to grant him of his one wish. Like he was coaxing him.
It took no time, a passing thought practically, for Erik to use a combination of his physical hands and his mental ones to pull open his fly, the zipper pushing itself down its full extent.
Charles was warm- no, he was hot against Erik’s palm, even through the thin material of his briefs, and Erik was already working on sliding his fingers beneath the grey elastic waistband when in a second the air shifted, and Charles went from pliant and wanting to stiff.
And then in a blink that took Erik’s far too inebriated mind far too long to catch up with, there was the creek of weight on floorboards and Charles’s head shooting up from where his cheek had been pressed into the hair at the side of Erik’s head.
“Charles?” Raven. Raven had just walked in, and it registered in that moment they were very much out in the open, the study didn’t even have a door, just a big open archway. Wide open for any curious little sisters to come wandering in.
“…Erik?!” The first name had come out a bit sleepy, confused, perhaps a bit surprised. His own had come out shocked, and Erik couldn’t see her, the couch was faced away from the archway entrance, but he could tell by her tone alone that her eyes had definitely gone wide. He briefly wondered if she was herself or her conventional blonde mask, but he brushed the thought away because it really didn’t matter much in the moment.
Erik couldn’t see Raven, but he could glance up and barely see the expression on Charles face, doe eyed and panicked. He could practically see the cogs turning behind his eyes trying to decide what to say.
“Raven, go back to bed. You’re dreaming. When you wake up, this will be nothing but a fuzzy memory.” Two fingers to his temple, Charles had used his abilities on her. Erik suspected he was drunk enough he didn’t really realize he was speaking it aloud as well, or maybe drunk enough he didn’t realize he didn’t have to.
Erik may not have known Charles and Raven for anywhere near how long they’d known each other, but he had never seen Charles use his powers on her before. He had never really seen Charles use his powers on anyone he was close with, not to take away their free will anyhow. A dip in their thoughts, yes. But never to this extent.
But he could tell it was a panicked response, that it was the first reaction as his brain went into a state of fight or flight and chose push instead.
Without another word, there were receding footsteps, and Raven was gone. It was only until you could no longer hear them at all that Charles finally relaxed and tore his gaze away from staring at the entryway.
And then his gaze fell down to Erik, who was sat below him with his hands fallen into his lap in the shock of the moment, Charles’s once glassy eyes much more sober looking as he turned his wide eyed stare on Erik, like he was tasked with an entirely new panic to deal with, realizing as he sobered what exactly was happening.
“I.. I believe we’ve.. had too much to drink, Erik.” and then he was pulling away before Erik could stop him, pulling back, moving to stand and awkwardly rushing to re-attach the button of his trousers with an embarrassed blush to his cheeks, Erik thought he was probably grateful Raven had interrupted before he was exposed anymore than an imprint.
“Charles, she’s gone. You don’t-“ but Charles was quick to cut him off, his mind clearly made.
“It’s late. Thank you for your company, but I think it’s time for me to go to bed.” It was said with finality that Erik knew he had no chance of arguing with. The moment had crashed and burnt out just as quickly as it had erupted into flames.
Charles was already moving around the couch, towards the exit, and Erik was still on the couch, lips kiss bitten and turtleneck still messily pulled from his waistband. His mouth still tasted like basil and Charles.
“Goodnight, my friend.” Charles had stopped, hesitating at the exit, turning back to look at Erik who just watched him go. He still looked a mess, his shirt wrinkled and hanging loose at his waist, his lips glossy and swollen, and if Erik squinted just right he would even see a pink-ish bruise forming right beneath his collar, peaking behind the cream twill.
“Goodnight, Charles.” and then he was gone, and soon Erik was up in his own bed, the night ending much more similarly to how he had originally assumed it would. Charles only in his imagination, a hand wrapped between his own legs, and curiosity as to if the other man was in his own room across the manor doing the same.
The next morning, Charles didn’t say a word about it, lying to himself it hadn’t happened it seemed.
Erik just counted himself lucky and considered it a blessing Charles hadn’t stolen the memory from him as well.