Fic: quietly melt down
Oct. 1st, 2011 03:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinetzinTitle: quietly melt down
Summary: The right answer is wrong.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 1576
Rating/Contents: NC-17, consent play, gags, face slapping
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: So when I asked who tops, what I actually meant was "Which one should I write first?" And Erik handily won the day, so here is this.
As soon as it's out of his mouth, Charles regrets having said it; Erik's been on him to say what's bothering him, what's missing from their bed, and Charles hasn't been giving him the right answer. He can tell from Erik's expression that the right answer is all wrong.
Erik's mouth is set in an unhappy line. "What must you think of me, that you would ask me to do this."
"It's not like that," Charles says, but Erik turns away anyway. Panicked, Charles takes it all- the desire and the fear, his hand moving faster on his cock when he thinks about it, the need to be caught, the trust he has in Erik, Erik's strong body rolling over his- and he balls it up and throws it straight at Erik's mind.
Erik staggers, turning back to Charles. "It's really not fair when you do that, you know."
Charles smiles gently at him. "You didn't give me much of a choice."
"Is that what you want, then?" Erik says, taking a step closer. "You don't want me to give you a choice?"
"Not if it bothers you," Charles says seriously. "Erik, if I ever make you uncomfortable, you have to tell me, because without reading your mind, I'm really not very good at-"
"Charles," Erik says, stopping his logorrhea. "Give me some time. I'll see what I can do."
Charles can feel the way his face lights up, see it in the smug smile it puts on Erik's lips. "That's brilliant, thank you."
"The pleasure is all mine," Erik says. "Apparently."
"You'd be wrong about that," Charles tells him, still not sure if Erik believes him.
--
It's a few weeks later, and Charles has almost forgotten- well, there's no way he could possibly forget about that conversation, but he'd thought Erik had made up his mind not to do it.
That assumption goes out the window at 2 AM, when Charles realizes there's someone else in his bed.
"Erik?" he says sleepily, but no sooner than he's said it, whoever it is stuffs a gag into his mouth.
"Shut up," Erik says, and Charles relaxes the tiniest bit; he wouldn't characterize himself as being out of danger, exactly, but at least no lasting harm is going to come to him. He tries to struggle, but Erik is faster and stronger than he is, straddling his hips to keep him in place while he pins Charles's arms. A handcuff closes around one of Charles's wrists; Erik passes the other through the slats of the headboard before shackling his other wrist. As Charles struggles against the cuffs, he realizes- Erik's not even using his power to hold them into place. Charles has every bit of his attention.
It's an attractively scary thought.
He wants to plead, to reason with him, but he resists the urge. Erik doesn't want him talking, and there's something about not being able to use his gifts that just adds to the depth of it, the level to which he's helpless. He can use his body, though; Charles kicks as Erik climbs off him and pulls down Charles's sleep pants, but Erik doesn't seem worried, and he doesn't rush. He puts his hand up to his face, licking his palm before he wraps it around Charles's half-hard cock.
Charles forgets why he's supposed to be fighting, for a moment; when he comes back around to it, he struggles again, the motion pushing his cock up harder into Erik's fist. Erik catches him at it; he takes both his hands off Charles for a moment.
"You could stop me," Erik says. "We both know you could. But you're not going to, are you? You're afraid of what I might do to you if you did." Erik lays a hand on his throat, squeezing just enough that his fingernails dig into Charles's skin. "And you don't want to stop me, do you? You want this to happen to you."
Charles shakes his head, but Erik grabs him by the jaw, forcing him to look into his eyes. "You want this," he insists, "and you're going to get it."
Erik unzips his trousers, pulling his cock free of the material. He sucks on his fingers lewdly, getting them wet before shoving them into Charles's ass, hard enough that it makes him hiss. "You'd better relax, because spit is all you're getting," he warns, and Charles's eyes go wide; for all that he's been telling Erik to take him harder, skip the prep work, it's more than a little intimidating when he's faced with actually doing it.
He has plenty of time to think about that as Erik spits into his hand, slicking up his cock with it slowly, watching Charles's face the whole time. Charles's tension must be written on it, because Erik smirks as he lines up and pushes himself into Charles's ass. Tears prick the corners of Charles's eyes, but Charles doesn't want it to stop; it feels so good, so raw, too much and just what he wanted.
"You like it," Erik says, breathless; he moves forward and it's a jolt of pure pain, singing along Charles's spine. "You love it when I do this to you, you filthy whore."
Charles doesn't trouble to deny, not when all he wants to do is get more. It feels like Erik is trying to split him in half, and Charles loves it, the burn and the stretch, the way he can feel everything more sharply.
Still, he can feel Erik holding back, not giving everything he's got, and Charles wants everything. He writhes against him, egging him on, crying out incomprehensibly behind the gag. It frustrates and excites Erik, Charles knows, his prey refusing to capitulate; Charles keeps at it until Erik slaps him across the face, hard enough that it snaps his head to the side.
"If you want to fight, it will just hurt more," Erik says; he grabs Charles's thighs, pulling his legs up out of the way so he can fuck Charles hard. Charles throws his head back, his whole body arching towards Erik, begging without words. It does hurt, it hurts badly, and Charles savors it.
A few minutes more and he's only barely remembering to fight back, but Erik doesn't seem to mind. Erik isn't even speaking English anymore, just driving into him and snarling what Charles can only recognize as really filthy German. It doesn't matter to Charles, so long as Erik keeps fucking him so hard he feels like he can feel it in his throat. Erik growls something that Charles doesn't understand and grabs Charles's dick, stroking him hard enough to hurt, and Charles can't help but come, seeing stars behind his eyelids.
"Slut," Erik says raggedly, thrusting erratically into him; he pulls away at the last moment and comes all over him, marking him, and if Charles could get hard again, he certainly would.
Before Charles can even think about it, Erik is pulling out the gag, unlocking the handcuffs and tossing them away; he just sits there for a moment, Charles's wrists still in his hands, looking at the marks there, looking lost.
"It's fine," Charles says, squeezing his hands, but Erik's expression doesn't change. "May I?" he says, brushing his sweat-damp hair away from his temple, and Erik nods. He sighs and lets him have it, the playback from the other side, arousal shot through with fear, but unwavering trust always underneath it.
"You think better of me than I do," Erik says.
"I always have," Charles replies matter-of-factly. "I'm not going to stop, either."
Erik rolls his eyes; this is an old argument, old enough that it's almost a joke between them. "This is not something you should trust me with," he says. "I could have hurt you, Charles, and I would have liked it."
"No, you couldn't have," Charles says, tapping his forehead. "Think of it as practice, if it helps- there is no pair more equipped to do this than we two."
"And I suppose you want to do it again," Erik says.
Charles knows him well enough to hear the faint hope in his voice. "Only if you liked it," he says, and it's not a cop-out. "But before that day comes, we both need sleep," he says firmly, taking Erik's wrist and pulling his arm across his chest.
"Will you at least let me get undressed first?" Erik asks, amused. "You're usually so interested in seeing me that way."
"If you must," Charles says, and the giant yawn that escapes him is not at all an exaggeration. Erik leans down, kissing him gently, as if Charles is fragile; Charles put a hand on the back of his head and deepens the kiss, giving voice to what Erik just won't accept in words. "But don't be surprised if I'm asleep before you get there."
"I never am," Erik says fondly, and Charles smiles.
Summary: The right answer is wrong.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 1576
Rating/Contents: NC-17, consent play, gags, face slapping
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: So when I asked who tops, what I actually meant was "Which one should I write first?" And Erik handily won the day, so here is this.
As soon as it's out of his mouth, Charles regrets having said it; Erik's been on him to say what's bothering him, what's missing from their bed, and Charles hasn't been giving him the right answer. He can tell from Erik's expression that the right answer is all wrong.
Erik's mouth is set in an unhappy line. "What must you think of me, that you would ask me to do this."
"It's not like that," Charles says, but Erik turns away anyway. Panicked, Charles takes it all- the desire and the fear, his hand moving faster on his cock when he thinks about it, the need to be caught, the trust he has in Erik, Erik's strong body rolling over his- and he balls it up and throws it straight at Erik's mind.
Erik staggers, turning back to Charles. "It's really not fair when you do that, you know."
Charles smiles gently at him. "You didn't give me much of a choice."
"Is that what you want, then?" Erik says, taking a step closer. "You don't want me to give you a choice?"
"Not if it bothers you," Charles says seriously. "Erik, if I ever make you uncomfortable, you have to tell me, because without reading your mind, I'm really not very good at-"
"Charles," Erik says, stopping his logorrhea. "Give me some time. I'll see what I can do."
Charles can feel the way his face lights up, see it in the smug smile it puts on Erik's lips. "That's brilliant, thank you."
"The pleasure is all mine," Erik says. "Apparently."
"You'd be wrong about that," Charles tells him, still not sure if Erik believes him.
--
It's a few weeks later, and Charles has almost forgotten- well, there's no way he could possibly forget about that conversation, but he'd thought Erik had made up his mind not to do it.
That assumption goes out the window at 2 AM, when Charles realizes there's someone else in his bed.
"Erik?" he says sleepily, but no sooner than he's said it, whoever it is stuffs a gag into his mouth.
"Shut up," Erik says, and Charles relaxes the tiniest bit; he wouldn't characterize himself as being out of danger, exactly, but at least no lasting harm is going to come to him. He tries to struggle, but Erik is faster and stronger than he is, straddling his hips to keep him in place while he pins Charles's arms. A handcuff closes around one of Charles's wrists; Erik passes the other through the slats of the headboard before shackling his other wrist. As Charles struggles against the cuffs, he realizes- Erik's not even using his power to hold them into place. Charles has every bit of his attention.
It's an attractively scary thought.
He wants to plead, to reason with him, but he resists the urge. Erik doesn't want him talking, and there's something about not being able to use his gifts that just adds to the depth of it, the level to which he's helpless. He can use his body, though; Charles kicks as Erik climbs off him and pulls down Charles's sleep pants, but Erik doesn't seem worried, and he doesn't rush. He puts his hand up to his face, licking his palm before he wraps it around Charles's half-hard cock.
Charles forgets why he's supposed to be fighting, for a moment; when he comes back around to it, he struggles again, the motion pushing his cock up harder into Erik's fist. Erik catches him at it; he takes both his hands off Charles for a moment.
"You could stop me," Erik says. "We both know you could. But you're not going to, are you? You're afraid of what I might do to you if you did." Erik lays a hand on his throat, squeezing just enough that his fingernails dig into Charles's skin. "And you don't want to stop me, do you? You want this to happen to you."
Charles shakes his head, but Erik grabs him by the jaw, forcing him to look into his eyes. "You want this," he insists, "and you're going to get it."
Erik unzips his trousers, pulling his cock free of the material. He sucks on his fingers lewdly, getting them wet before shoving them into Charles's ass, hard enough that it makes him hiss. "You'd better relax, because spit is all you're getting," he warns, and Charles's eyes go wide; for all that he's been telling Erik to take him harder, skip the prep work, it's more than a little intimidating when he's faced with actually doing it.
He has plenty of time to think about that as Erik spits into his hand, slicking up his cock with it slowly, watching Charles's face the whole time. Charles's tension must be written on it, because Erik smirks as he lines up and pushes himself into Charles's ass. Tears prick the corners of Charles's eyes, but Charles doesn't want it to stop; it feels so good, so raw, too much and just what he wanted.
"You like it," Erik says, breathless; he moves forward and it's a jolt of pure pain, singing along Charles's spine. "You love it when I do this to you, you filthy whore."
Charles doesn't trouble to deny, not when all he wants to do is get more. It feels like Erik is trying to split him in half, and Charles loves it, the burn and the stretch, the way he can feel everything more sharply.
Still, he can feel Erik holding back, not giving everything he's got, and Charles wants everything. He writhes against him, egging him on, crying out incomprehensibly behind the gag. It frustrates and excites Erik, Charles knows, his prey refusing to capitulate; Charles keeps at it until Erik slaps him across the face, hard enough that it snaps his head to the side.
"If you want to fight, it will just hurt more," Erik says; he grabs Charles's thighs, pulling his legs up out of the way so he can fuck Charles hard. Charles throws his head back, his whole body arching towards Erik, begging without words. It does hurt, it hurts badly, and Charles savors it.
A few minutes more and he's only barely remembering to fight back, but Erik doesn't seem to mind. Erik isn't even speaking English anymore, just driving into him and snarling what Charles can only recognize as really filthy German. It doesn't matter to Charles, so long as Erik keeps fucking him so hard he feels like he can feel it in his throat. Erik growls something that Charles doesn't understand and grabs Charles's dick, stroking him hard enough to hurt, and Charles can't help but come, seeing stars behind his eyelids.
"Slut," Erik says raggedly, thrusting erratically into him; he pulls away at the last moment and comes all over him, marking him, and if Charles could get hard again, he certainly would.
Before Charles can even think about it, Erik is pulling out the gag, unlocking the handcuffs and tossing them away; he just sits there for a moment, Charles's wrists still in his hands, looking at the marks there, looking lost.
"It's fine," Charles says, squeezing his hands, but Erik's expression doesn't change. "May I?" he says, brushing his sweat-damp hair away from his temple, and Erik nods. He sighs and lets him have it, the playback from the other side, arousal shot through with fear, but unwavering trust always underneath it.
"You think better of me than I do," Erik says.
"I always have," Charles replies matter-of-factly. "I'm not going to stop, either."
Erik rolls his eyes; this is an old argument, old enough that it's almost a joke between them. "This is not something you should trust me with," he says. "I could have hurt you, Charles, and I would have liked it."
"No, you couldn't have," Charles says, tapping his forehead. "Think of it as practice, if it helps- there is no pair more equipped to do this than we two."
"And I suppose you want to do it again," Erik says.
Charles knows him well enough to hear the faint hope in his voice. "Only if you liked it," he says, and it's not a cop-out. "But before that day comes, we both need sleep," he says firmly, taking Erik's wrist and pulling his arm across his chest.
"Will you at least let me get undressed first?" Erik asks, amused. "You're usually so interested in seeing me that way."
"If you must," Charles says, and the giant yawn that escapes him is not at all an exaggeration. Erik leans down, kissing him gently, as if Charles is fragile; Charles put a hand on the back of his head and deepens the kiss, giving voice to what Erik just won't accept in words. "But don't be surprised if I'm asleep before you get there."
"I never am," Erik says fondly, and Charles smiles.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-01 11:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-01 08:31 pm (UTC)I keep trying to type something coherent and just ending up with more keysmashes! THIS HAS MADE ME THE MOST KEYSMASHY.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-02 06:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-02 06:10 pm (UTC)