Chapter Text
Erik sat in his room of the Mansion, Westchester.
A place so fine and rich a younger him would’ve thought it couldn’t exist on Earth.
Eyes closed, he tuned into every metal object in the colossal building. The cutlery in the drawers of the main kitchen. The pipes, the cogs in the old grandfather clock that decorated the welcome hall. The bannisters. The brass door handles. The watch on Charles’ wrist. The copper wire of technology. The wire rims of glasses and the weight of cars parked in the garage. He could feel Logan sat across from a familiar necklace - Jean and next to her a heavy visor. The conductors and the vents. The metal bindings of picture frames.
It all sang to him. Each object its own thrum, creating a symphony that he could feel. He could move it all with his mind now if he so wished. From rooms away. From behind closed doors.
All thanks to Charles. He often tossed the thought around in his mind that if he hadn’t met Charles he never would’ve been able to use the extent of his power. He didn’t know the extent, or didn’t believe it was possible to do.
But Charles did. Charles believed in him deeply. From levitating knives with some strain to hauling helicopters from the sky and lifting multiple cars with a mere flick of fingers.
He was performative for Charles. Wanting him to know that the effort on him was not wasted.
Erik slowly realised that all the other objects had left his consciousness and he was now solely focussed on the telepath’s watch. He wondered if Charles felt his power everywhere all the time too.
They’ve spoken vaguely of his telepathy over whiskey and chess, where Erik had probed further than usual. Charles, forever with his giving nature preferred to focus on others’ abilities. Asking Erik how his power felt, how his practise at levitation using magnetic fields was going.
Most times it was unspoken notion that Charles wanted to see the progress for himself by looking into the taller man’s mind. And sometimes after enough whiskey and hard stares from ludicrously blue eyes he would give in.
The sensation of Charles diving into his mind was less jarring each time. He knew the telepath could do it without being felt but for Erik’s sake he would make his presence clear. It was more comforting that way. And he showed Erik everything he saw, too. Reflecting it back without ever stepping to far. Precise and perfect.
Erik’s breathing became shallow as he recalled the conversation.
Asking Charles if he also felt everything. Everyone’s mind. He’d said yes and vaguely mentioned the ‘boarders’ he’d actively put up each day to block out the overwhelming sensation of it. Erik wanted to ask more but Charles had moved his piece and knocked over one of his knights, making a joke how Erik always left them unguarded. A truly offensive player. Sensing that perhaps telepaths weren’t as open, hypocritically, to talking about their abilities Erik sighed and mentioned something about how the whiskey makes him a lax player as a poor excuse.
Erik had begun levitating. Legs crossed, mind even and steady. He fixated on the watch. The smooth face of it. The beautifully crafted ticking hands and each link that encircled Charles’ wrist. The link connectors. The heat of it against Charles’ skin.
He was in his room down the hall, hunched over papers at that ridiculously oversized mahogany desk for certain. Erik expanded his search for other metal on Charles. The buttons on his cardigan. A forest green one, he recalled from this morning. His belt buckle, a conservative square and perfectly fit to his small waist. The lace loops of his shoes - from the placement he could tell the man had his legs crossed.
His heavy Parker fountain pen, metal all the way through and scrawling endlessly. Erik mulled over the idea of taking control of it and writing out something.
A small ‘chess later?’ or ‘care for a walk?’ or ‘fuck me senseless?’ in his neat flowing handwriting.
Inhaling deeply, Erik attempted to refocus on the watch. The shape of it. The different metals inside, the tiny cogs artfully placed. The small gold linings on the face. He imagined the wrist it was attached to. And the hand, wrapped around his neck. The belt buckle undone and thrown to the side. Shoes off, pen left on the desk forgotten as Erik lay there instead of his papers.
Splayed out with Charles in his mind.
Taking control, projecting the most filthy images and words. Erik imagined his voice, his accent firm but caring. Consoling him afterwards and commanding him during.
He opened his eyes and lost control of the levitation- falling back onto the bed. He worried that if it was true, that if Charles’ telepathy was that great he would know every single filthy fantasy that filled his mind. Did he know when Erik caught himself staring at his back for too long, or when they spoke and Erik’s gaze landed on his lips?
It was very, very scarily real truth that Charles knew already. Sometimes Erik caught his eyes and from the look there was an air of knowing. But he couldn’t be sure. He’d told the telepath to stay out of his mind - which he swore that he respected at all times unless permission was granted.
Erik believed him. He knew liars - and nothing about Charles was untrustworthy.
Everything about the man called to him. Said come in, be with me. Be mine. Have a large room in my family home. Eat with me, drink my whiskey. Play my games and hone your skills. Take as you wish - and he wanted nothing back but loyalty and occasionally company.
Erik had never met such a good man in a terrible world.
His body was hot from his own thoughts. His turtleneck feeling choking and hot, he was half hard and there was a piling sensation of … shame.
He laid back on the bed, denying himself touch. Xavier had let him into his home, giving him everything and somehow that still wasn’t enough. Erik swallowed thickly, his mouth feeling dry. Charles likely didn’t even swing that way. He was endlessly flirting with girls, using tacky pickup lines and he couldn’t help but notice how Charles’ eyes lingered on slim figures and busts and long legs.
Erik had long legs, too.
There has been more than one night Erik had waved his goodbye to Charles across the bar with a stern look painting his already stern features as the telepath sat with some faceless blonde or ginger. It was better to head out before the distasteful, misplaced jealousy leeched out of his mind and onto his lips with the aid of too much alcohol.
On the those nights he would trapse home, stopping by the river to watch the water. It calmed his mind and sometimes as a guilty pleasure he’d pull up some shopping trolley or necklace or gun that had been thrown in. It was a welcome distraction. But eventually he’d have to make his way back to the mansion - and if he was lucky he would be able to avoid the sounds that came from down the hall.
A shower. He needed a cold shower. It was barely three in the afternoon and he was not going to spend the good part of the afternoon working himself into a frenzy with his hand over a man who had never looked at him as more of a friend.
It was embarrassing, he told himself as he used his power to flick on the shower. Metal bottles of body wash and shampoo floated up into hand as he doused himself in water. Body first, careful to avoid his half-hard length apart from needed wash. His back, arms and chest.
He’d caught Charles looking at his chest once, after a run he’d taken off his sweat soaked shirt in the gardens as Charles was outside savouring a cup of tea over a book. Erik hadn’t noticed him until it was too late. Charles waved him over and they’d talked about politics and how the new teabags they’d got in were a bit lacklustre and Erik tracked the other man’s eye movements and maybe even puffed out his chest a little.
Stupid.
Hair next. It was recently cut, short and easy to style as he liked it. He’d considered buying a metal comb to be able to do it quickly and effortlessly but there was a line somewhere that boarded into laziness that he was scared to cross.
Once he was done, refreshed and feeling more level headed the tap turned itself off and he stepped out.
Another great thing about cold showers was that the mirror never steamed up. He wrapped a towel around his waist after rubbing it over his hair and stared at himself for a moment.
Erik wasn’t vain. Performative, certainly. He didn’t often take much too much concern over his own body. He liked to keep it fit - and push himself. He never felt particularly self conscious at all until he met Charles. He was tall with good features which often served him well. But with Charles he pondered if the telepath thought he was too tall or even lanky. If his face sat weird or if his clothes were badly fitting or ugly.
But Charles smiled at him no matter what he wore or how deep the bags under his eyes were.
He moved to get dressed. Black trousers, a new black turtleneck and a scarf. It was cold outside and he wanted a walk.
Just as he was pulling on his shoes there was a knock at the door. He pushed his power outward, searching for familiar items and found Charles’ watch with its usual magnetic hum.
He unlocked the door and made the hinges move to swing open without taking focus off his shoes.
“How may I help you?” He asked as Charles stepped in and leant on the doorway.
The telepath was in an airy, hopeful mood as always.
“Oh- are you heading out? I was rather hoping you would be around this afternoon for dinner and a game? It has been a few evenings since was have played.” Charles watched as Erik finished putting his shoes on. His black outfit cut a fine line around the figure of his body. Ever so modest and conserved.
The taller man stood.
“I was only off for a walk. I haven’t left my confines today. I will be back later. A game sounds good.” He felt Charles brush against his mind, comforting and questioning. Erik quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Yes?”
Charles sighed.
“Sorry - it’s just easier sometimes for me to see minds. I keep saying - Like it is for you to open doors. I’m surprised you’ve not strapped a bit of copper wire to your toothbrush so you don’t have to do that by hand anymore.”
“Don’t give me ideas.”
The telepath grinned, delighting in Erik’s seemingly good mood. He worried over the days his demeanour was dark and brooding.
“Anyway, it’s force of habit. But I know the rules.” He raised his hands innocently, showing he had nothing to hide.
Erik opened a drawer and out of it pulled his wallet and keys, pressing each item into alternative pockets in his trousers. Erik gave in, watching the other man shift his weight from foot to foot in the doorway.
“You want to come?” He offered before Charles could ask.
“Of course. I propose we walk through the park and find the end of the rainbow which is, last time I checked, conveniently at the pub.”
Drinks then dinner then chess. A perfect date night. If they were dating.
Erik nodded in response, running a hand through his still damp hair.
Charles was already off down the hallway to grab his coat and scarf.
“Meet you at the door in ten!” He shouted over his shoulder.
-
The walk had been nice. Fresh air. Fresh topics to talk through. They seemingly never ran out of topics to roll over and analyse and argue about. Most were politics which though heavy they spoke about with a cheery levity today. Sometimes it was concepts and ideas. Erik tuned into Charles’ rants on space and expanding universes while Charles happily listened to Erik’s perhaps overly thorough notes on perfect government structures and mutant idealism.
By the time they reached the pub doors it seemed that their minds worked as one. Bonded and understanding.
“I’ll buy the first round.” Charles offered. It was beer, of course. Nice, expensive beer. Erik would drink a couple before switching to the lighter life of spirits which didn’t leave him feeling so defeated the next day.
Erik found a neat table tucked away in a corner. It was mock up on a British pub, all with detailed decor and wooden furniture. They drank here a lot and Erik knew it reminded him of England. Of Oxford and the fun of his early twenties. Erik knew he missed it. The revelry and promise of a scattered, interesting academic future. As much as Charles swore he wholeheartedly stood by his choice to give it up and become a full time mentor Erik couldn’t help but think that any regular party loving man his age would be missing the scene.
The pints came down to the table and Erik used his foot to push out a chair for the shorter man.
“Can we play a game tonight, Erik?” Charles probed, eyes settling on his face. Erik loooked up mid way though taking the initial sip of his beer. The foam left a ring around his mouth which he quickly licked off. Charles crossed his legs.
“Something tells me this isn’t to do with our pre-arranged chess?” Erik smiled, intrigued.
“Let me in tonight.” Charles leant forward, elbows on the table and palms cupping his glass. The condensation on the sides threatened to collect and drip over his knuckles.
“Up here.” The telepath tapped his temple. “I want to have a conversation with you were I can see everything.”
Erik stared at him, keeping his lips pressed into a thin line. Letting Charles into mind wasn’t the issue. He trusted him. He didn’t trust himself not to think any unsavoury thoughts for a whole evening. Especially while drinking. Especially when Charles looked at him like that.
“Why?”
Charles furrowed his brow.
“Why were you making my watch vibrate earlier?”
Erik shut his eyes and sighed, lowering his head.
He hadn’t realised he had.
“I was practising levitating and needed to focus on something.”
“So you chose my watch?”
“So I chose your watch.”
Charles leant back, taking his pint with him.
“For an untrained mind your mental walls are very good. Even when I accidentally dust your mind I can’t even sense a surface emotion. I assume it’s just apart of your sort of tense, locked up character. A natural amalgamation of your life and actions.” Charles finished and took a large gulp of his drink.
Erik did the same. It was sort of flattering. But very much more so a relief. Perhaps Charles really did have no idea. Perhaps his mental walls, built over years of blocking out forces and distractions were of good use to him.
Charles watched him, looking for any small expressions or chinks in his armour.
“It annoys me slightly, to be honest with you.” The telepath set his jaw.
“You’ve said not to look into your mind- fine. But it takes me a truly bothersome effort all the time not to do so. Looking into the mind while conversing with someone is as natural to me as breathing. It distracts me. It makes me feel disconnected from you.”
Erik’s body tightened up in his chair. He felt stiff. This was very off the cuff for Charles - not even a pint into the evening.
“Well it’s not normal to be peering into everyone’s minds- it’s unfair insight. Especially for one’s chess partner.” He tried to keep it light, sensing Charles’ frustration was much deeper than this.
Charles sighed with exasperation and lifted the remainder of his pint, downing it in one. Not a second later a barman came over with two more pints and placed them on the table. He was a tall man in his mid thirties.
“And being able to feel and control every bit of metal in this room is normal?” The barman asked in Charles’ exact tone and temperament.
Unknowing, the barman walked off and returned to his job after Charles released him. Erik stared across the table as Charles lifted another pint.
“My power isn’t .. invasive.” He said eventually.
Charles, mid drink, curled his open palm into a fist on the table and gave Erik a look that could’ve killed a weaker man.
“Invasive?” He spluttered. Erik braced himself. “Is that truly what you think?”
Erik opened his mouth to respond but the telepath wasn’t done.
“What is in there that you are so scared of me finding out?” He pressed, nostrils flaring.
“I know you, Erik. I want to know your mind in depth. And you are so … aggravating. Why must I endure entire hours of my watch vibrating, feeling your presence outside my door at odd hours only for you to walk away. Glares when I leave without you but then dismissals when I offer-?”
Noticing he was getting a little loud, Charles made sure the surrounding patrons didn’t notice the two men in the corner having an intense discussion.
“I don’t even like the watch. I only wear it because the one time I didn’t you raced up and down the mansion in a badly hidden panic that I’d been killed or something.”
Erik stared at him blankly.
Charles’ mind was brooding. He really was at his wits end. It had been months. Of road trips. Sleeping in the same bed in cheap hotels. Countless nights spent over games and chatter and laughter. Intense debates, sitting so close their thighs touched. Praying the taller man would only turn and face him. Every day offering him companionship. Being perky. Wearing tight corduroy trousers. Buying him gifts, respecting all his wishes and trying desperately to understand him the ‘normal way’. But that was not his way. Something about seeing him in the candle lit pub with his ludicrously alluring turtleneck and soft, warm expression had pushed him over the edge tonight.
Erik remained totally, perfectly calm and lifted his beer to his beautifully shaped lips. This was so unfair. Charles was the calm one.
“There is nothing in my mind worth seeing that I will not tell you in conversation. Which, as I am actively involved in the delivery I much prefer.” He spoke casually, as if hoping Charles would just forget it and they could return to their conversation on the possibility of a mutant only country. He was thankful at least that the telepath had clearly shielded them from onlookers.
Charles collapsed back in his chair, letting his head lull back and shoulders roll with apparent defeat.
“You aren’t hearing me at all,” he said with a much more quiet, indirect tone.
“You purposefully deaf.”
Erik gave a small smile, happy to be over with this portion of the conversation.
“It’s good thing I don’t wear my watch on my wanking hand or you’d be latching on to that, too.”
Nevermind.
Erik’s mind exploded into a subdued panic. In honesty he had considered that before - and had hoped to sense .. and was Charles in his mind already? Areyouinhere? He thought, to no response. Charles wasn’t that cruel.
“Oh?” Charles lifted his head, suddenly seemingly intruiged again. Erik inhaled sharply. He’d been silent for too long. He should’ve laughed it off or made a joke for him to shut up. Now Charles had cornered him with just a stupid joke like that.
He didn’t know when but suddenly the other pint on the table was finished. When had Charles even drank that? He hated the English drinking culture he decided quickly.
“Let’s play another game then. The yes or no game.” Charles started, blue eyes locking onto Erik’s. The taller man resisted the urge to blindly agree. This could go south very quickly.
“Like in school, we each take a turn asking a question and we have to answer yes or no. No lying.”
Erik appraised him for a moment. To anyone else this is harmless drinking fun. A few silly questions - but there were things he was scared to tell Charles. About himself. About his past. Even if Charles already knew he was not up to talking about them in a crowded bar while the telepath was clearly in some sort of mood.
He nodded to agree, pushing away fears that made his gut knot. What if he just asked outright? He’d say yes- any perhaps jeopardise their entire relationship, maybe Charles would feel disgusted, or that Erik had violated their bond as friends and only wanted to use him as a means to an end. - or he could lie.
And Charles would know.
“Brilliant!” Charles clapped his hands together, his usual interested enthusiasm returning to him.
“You can start.”
Erik nodded, taking a good drink of his first pint and finishing it.
“Can you ask the barman for something decent before I start? Like scotch.”
Charles grinned. “Neat?”
“On the rocks.”
Erik mulled over a few questions he could kick this silly game off with. It was unthinkable to him a year ago that he could sat at a bar with a man he truly loved, well fed and dressed playing childhood games over drinks. He had Charles to thank for all of it. Before he could begin his question the barman returned with two glasses of scotch on the rocks and placed them down in front of Erik with a wink. Charles was ridiculous.
He would start with something simple.
“Do you think your powers are better than mine?”
Charles gave a small laugh, shifting in his seat.
“Yes. I do. I could in theory control your powers using your mind so I think I am trumping the powers table.”
Erik had never considered that. He felt hot at the thought. Charles wasted no time moving onto his question.
“Have you ever slept with a man?”
Erik almost spat out his sip of scotch he was enjoying ever so much. That was right out of the gate. Unexpected. Unruly.
Charles deep blue gaze was stronger than ever under half lidded eyes. Erik felt his body heat further. Be honest. Play it off. He’s trying to toy with you. It’s only fun to him.
“Yes,” Erik said as casually and evenly as he could.
“A while ago.”
Erik didn’t have to be a telepath to see this piqued the other man’s interest somewhat.
“In Europe - he - we were staying in the same hotel and he was very handsome. And pushy.” Erik explained before he could even ask.
Charles furrowed his brow as if that didn’t explain anything at all. Erik seized his opportunity to move this along.
“When you have sex, do you go into their minds?”
Erik asked, steadfast. If he was going to endure this he may as well get some excellent fantasy material out of it. He couldn’t help that he was a selfish man.
Charles leant forward to speak in low tones, not that anyone else even knew they were there.
“Yes. And it’s my favourite part.” He grinned, pupils blown wide and eager.
“To feel our pleasure in tandem. I know what they want and how they want it. I can see fantasies and desires. It is wonderful.” The telepath spoke earnestly, leaving Erik breathless. He felt his cock beginning to take far too much interest in this little conversation.
Charles lifted another beer to his mouth and watched Erik over the rim of the glass. Forever a mouthy debater, he seemed speechless at such an answer. Maybe Raven was right and he was just a prude after all.
Erik kept his features as steady as he could. Was Xavier toying with him? That wasn’t particularly in his nature.. but not impossible. Annoyance curled in his mind. Had Charles realised his feelings and this was just some sad, mocking game? But arousal traced over his body, hot and inviting. Charles telepathy was so enamouring. To be understood without words. For him to know what he liked wordlessly. To beg for more without opening his mouth. Erik sipped his scotch uneasily, the liquid lining and burning his throat.
“You’re teasing me.” He accused the shorter man, blatant now.
“Is that a yes or no question for the game?” Came the telepath’s quick response. Eyes intense and glazed over already from drink. He hadn’t expected Erik he check him so quickly- there was still a few more questions to go.