Fic: Do Nothing Till You Hear From Me
Jan. 23rd, 2012 04:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinetzinTitle: Do Nothing Till You Hear From Me
Summary: In vino veritas, and all that.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 2357
Rating/Contents: NC-17, drunkenness, ~feelings~
Pairing: Charles/Raven
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: So, my gdocs has gotten totally out of control, right? Not because of the number of stories (not that that's good either), but because I've given up entirely on giving things names that relate to what's actually in the document and just started naming them whatever silly shit comes to mind. It's actually worse than this now, because I just started working on "Raven Darkholme got to get paid." So here is what was labeled "everybody in the club getting tipsy." As one does.
It's the end of term, and every bar in town must be going completely wild by now. The one Charles has taken her to certainly is; everyone is very loud and very excited and Raven is starting to wish that Charles would let her drink in public, because it might be easier to deal with all the yelling if she could.
Honestly, at this point, she might be able to do it without him even noticing. Charles is so committed to the cause of getting uproariously drunk that he's not even trying to pull, which is a new one on her. He's spent most of the evening just hanging on people he likes and drinking whatever someone puts in his hands.
He's about ready to dance on the bar when Raven drags him home; he's at the stage where he's not protesting much, because everything sounds like fun, including wandering through the streets with Raven trying to herd him, randomly shouting back at the many people who are cheering for no reason.
Somehow, she maneuvers him into the flat and into his bedroom, depositing him on the bed. "Darling," he says muzzily, "have I ever told you how very gorgeous you are?"
She laughs, bending down to pull off his shoes. "Not as much as you should."
"I'm going to fix that right now," he says earnestly. "Because you are absolutely stunning. You have no idea how much I want to take you to bed."
Raven pauses, raising her eyebrows at him. "That's a new one."
"Yes, well." He waves a hand. "In vino veritas, and all that. And a couple of other things. Tannins and such."
"I think you're too drunk to have this conversation," she says, reaching for the hem of his sweater.
"On the contrary," he says, coming out a little muffled as she pulls it over his head, "I am exactly drunk enough to have this conversation." He makes a feeble attempt at the buttons on his shirt, until Raven has to knock his hands away and do it herself. Once he's down to his undershirt, he looks up at her, and his expression is more fond than anything else. "The things I would do to you."
"If I weren't your sister," she says.
"Since when are you my sister?" he asks, struggling with his belt buckle. Raven's not going to touch it, especially with the way this conversation is going; if he can't get it open, that's between him and God.
She glowers at him. "Did you forget who you came home with?"
"You're not my sister," he says dismissively. "You're my Raven." He sighs, having figured out his belt and stripped down to his boxers. "Now, if you would just get naked and put yourself approximately," he indicates a point somewhere in the general direction of his lap, "here, I'd very much appreciate it." He squeezes his eyes shut. "But not right now. The room is spinning a little. I don't want you spinning. I suspect it would be uncomfortable."
"You're drunk," she tells him.
"I am so drunk," he agrees. "And you are so beautiful. And you must know how in love with you I am."
She purses her lips. "You're going to regret having said all this in the morning."
"I hope I don't, because every word of it is true," he says, lying back and stretching out on the bed, shutting his eyes. "Come and lie down with me. I promise I won't lay a finger on you."
She snorts. "It's not your fingers I'm worried about," she says.
"I promise to keep all my various bits to myself," he swears. "Besides, I'll be asleep within ten minutes. Your virtue will remain intact." He gives her a pitiful look. "Please?"
She sighs. "Will you at least let me brush my teeth and get undressed first?"
"Mmm, yes, undressed, that's a lovely idea." He holds up his hands when she looks at him hard. "I promised not to do anything inappropriate."
She rolls her eyes at him, going to the bathroom, and she's surprised when she comes back and he's actually still awake. He holds up the covers, and when she slips in beside him, he offers her his arm for a pillow. "You're ridiculous," she says, but she takes it, and he moves closer to her. "Charles," she warns.
"All my fingers and bits are over here," he protests, yawning.
"Keep it that way," she tells him, turning off the lamp. "Now go to sleep."
He nods, settling in, and it's barely any time at all before he drifts off; Raven's right behind him.
Of course, when she wakes up, he's all over her, curled up around her, his arm draped over her stomach. His dick is hard, and as he shifts it rubs up against her; she's ready to smack him until she realizes he's still out, snoring softly. He does it again, and that's when she has to get up, because it's giving her body ideas that her brain doesn't necessarily want to have.
He rouses when she untangles herself from him, reaching for her, but suddenly his eyes fly open. "Morning," he says carefully.
"Morning yourself," she replies.
He eyes her, a worried expression on his face. "We- we didn't do anything last night, did we?"
She gets up quickly, stepping away from him. "Thanks for that. That's what every girl wants to hear in the morning."
He groans. "Please tell me that didn't sound like I think it did." He catches her by the wrist before she can get too far away. "What I meant was that it would kill me to know I talked you into something you didn't want to do."
Her face softens. "Nothing happened," she says, petting his hair. "You were the perfect drunken gentleman."
He sighs. "Good."
"Except for everything you said," she says flatly.
Charles looks like a startled rabbit. "I, er, I was talkative?"
"Very," she tells him. "And I want to know if you meant it."
"Oh, no," he says, waving a finger at her, "I'm not falling into this trap. I don't know what it was that I said, and if I say I do mean it, it will have been insulting, and if I say I don't, it will have been complimentary."
She looks at him. "You said you wanted to sleep with me."
He looks nonplussed. "That's not really either, is it?"
"You were pretty insistent about it," she says. "And pretty detailed."
He puts his hand over his face. "Oh, dear."
She frowns. "Yeah."
"Emotionally or anatomically?" he says, peeking out at her from between his fingers.
"The first one."
"I was afraid of that."
"Would the other one have been better?" she asks.
"Well, possibly," he says, shrugging. "At least I'd be very clear about what I said."
"You keep on digging that hole," she tells him.
"How about we have some tea?" he says brightly, as if to distract her. "I just bought a fresh tin. I think we'll both feel much better after some tea."
"You're not getting out of this one," she warns him, crossing her arms. "We're talking about this right now."
He sits up, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. "If you could give me the gist of what I said, I could give you an answer."
"There was a lot of it, but the bottom line was pretty simple," she tells him. "You're in love with me, and you want to sleep with me."
"Yes, well," Charles says, looking uncomfortable. "All that seems to be right."
"Hmm," she says, considering him.
"That's your reply?" he says incredulously. "After all that, that's the best you've got?"
"Go take a shower," she tells him, "and we'll talk about it."
"Alright, then," he says, annoyed, pushing off the bed and walking into the bathroom.
When he comes back out again, scrubbing a towel through his hair, another around his waist, Raven is lying in bed, waiting for him, without a stitch of clothing on. Charles looks her up and down, his eyebrows rising so high that they're practically in his hairline. "If this is your idea of talking, I look forward to many long conversations."
She rolls her eyes. "Get over here."
He lets the towel drop to the floor, and Raven likes everything she sees. His cock is thick and already half-hard, and she can't even decide what she wants to do to him first. He climbs onto the bed, lying down beside her and pulling her towards him, pulling her into a kiss. She can't seem to stop kissing him; hot and wet and just firm enough, his hand warm on the side of her face; his hair is still damp, and it slides through her fingers, falling softly out of them. It's so good just to be pressed up against him like this, touching him everywhere, nothing separating them anymore.
Very reluctantly, he pulls back. "Just one moment," he says, rolling away from her, reaching into the nightstand drawer for a condom. When that's dealt with, he turns to her again, back into her arms.
"Just like this," she says, drawing her knee up and out of the way, reaching down to guide him inside her.
He groans, pushing into her slowly. "Oh god, Raven, you have no idea how long I've wanted-"
"Pretty sure I do," she replies, kissing him quiet. She's been waiting, wanting for so long that it's become background noise: the sky is blue, England is boring, she wants Charles, she's not going to get him. She's certainly getting him now, and there's no way to describe all the ways she's going to have him that isn't completely obscene, completely incongruous with what this is, how they're moving together, quiet and smooth.
He moves in and out of her slowly, lazily, almost like he's distracted by everything else there is to do, to kiss and touch. She rocks back against him for more, drawing him in, deeper inside of her. His mouth is busy but his thoughts are bleeding through, so good and want this and why didn't we, why haven't we always been. All she can do is kiss him harder, because she's certain she's already thinking loud enough for him to hear; there's no way he could ignore how she's feeling, not when every bit of her brain, every bit of her body is lit up with it, how much she wants, needs him.
When she comes, Charles following right after her, it's almost a shame; it's indescribably good, but it also means they have to stop, at least for the moment, that they can't do this forever and ever. Still, he doesn't let her go, and she makes no move at all to get away, just lying there wrapped up with him.
"Oh," he sighs, looking at her, resting his forehead against hers. "Oh, Raven."
"Yeah," she says breathlessly. "I know what you mean."
"Mmm," he says, running a hand down her flank. "Now, about that tea."
She raises an eyebrow at him. "This is what you're thinking about right now?"
He grins. "I've got to keep my strength up somehow."
She socks him lightly in the chest, laughing as she does it.
--
She's just gotten off work, and her everything is sore, starting with her feet and going all the way up to her brain. She's going to go home and collapse into the bathtub, and she only just remembers that she's got to swing by and pick up Charles, who's having a drink with someone after classes.
She's late, and she can't decide whether she'll end up gathering a lonely Charles or a tipsy one or both; when she walks into the pub, though, she doesn't see either. Charles is sitting at the bar talking to some woman, someone she doesn't recognize, someone who's got her hand on Charles's knee and is leaning towards him.
It hurts more than she expected, even though she thought it would come; Charles is like an alley cat, and somehow she'd always known he couldn't possibly be content with her.
She really wants to turn around and walk out, but just then Charles looks up and spots her. "Raven," he calls, waving her over, and she reluctantly goes. "This is my flatmate," he says to the woman; he motions to Raven, leaning up to whisper in her ear. "Raven," he hisses, "get me the hell away from this madwoman. She won't leave me be."
She laughs, pretending he's said something funny, and something releases in her chest. "Come on, honey," she says, putting her arm around his shoulders. "I've got something to show you."
"And what would that be?" the woman says, clearly annoyed.
Raven smiles. "Me, naked."
She rolls her eyes. "Has that line ever worked?"
"Just worked on me," Charles says, eying the bartender and putting money on the counter. "If you'll excuse me?"
As they go, Raven looks back over her shoulder at the woman, who's glaring at the two of them in disgust, and she grins.
As she turns back, Charles kisses her hair. "That was exactly what I needed, darling, thank you."
She takes his hand, entwining their fingers. "Do you want to get another round?"
"Certainly not," he says, affronted, steering them out the door and onto the street. "As I recall, I was promised a show, and I absolutely will not take a rain check."
She grins, pecking him on the cheek. "'Flatmate'? Really?"
He bumps her with his shoulder. "You try and sum us up in ten words or less," he challenges. "'Sister' is increasingly more inappropriate, 'lover' just sounds dreadful, 'friend' just sounds cold, 'girlfriend' would have gotten me slapped, possibly by both of you." He sighs. "'Flatmate' was the best I could do on short notice."
She stops, looking at him. "Then what am I?"
"As I've said," he tells her, leaning forward to kiss her, "you are my Raven, and I adore you."
She smiles, tugging at his hand. "Let's go home."
Summary: In vino veritas, and all that.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 2357
Rating/Contents: NC-17, drunkenness, ~feelings~
Pairing: Charles/Raven
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: So, my gdocs has gotten totally out of control, right? Not because of the number of stories (not that that's good either), but because I've given up entirely on giving things names that relate to what's actually in the document and just started naming them whatever silly shit comes to mind. It's actually worse than this now, because I just started working on "Raven Darkholme got to get paid." So here is what was labeled "everybody in the club getting tipsy." As one does.
It's the end of term, and every bar in town must be going completely wild by now. The one Charles has taken her to certainly is; everyone is very loud and very excited and Raven is starting to wish that Charles would let her drink in public, because it might be easier to deal with all the yelling if she could.
Honestly, at this point, she might be able to do it without him even noticing. Charles is so committed to the cause of getting uproariously drunk that he's not even trying to pull, which is a new one on her. He's spent most of the evening just hanging on people he likes and drinking whatever someone puts in his hands.
He's about ready to dance on the bar when Raven drags him home; he's at the stage where he's not protesting much, because everything sounds like fun, including wandering through the streets with Raven trying to herd him, randomly shouting back at the many people who are cheering for no reason.
Somehow, she maneuvers him into the flat and into his bedroom, depositing him on the bed. "Darling," he says muzzily, "have I ever told you how very gorgeous you are?"
She laughs, bending down to pull off his shoes. "Not as much as you should."
"I'm going to fix that right now," he says earnestly. "Because you are absolutely stunning. You have no idea how much I want to take you to bed."
Raven pauses, raising her eyebrows at him. "That's a new one."
"Yes, well." He waves a hand. "In vino veritas, and all that. And a couple of other things. Tannins and such."
"I think you're too drunk to have this conversation," she says, reaching for the hem of his sweater.
"On the contrary," he says, coming out a little muffled as she pulls it over his head, "I am exactly drunk enough to have this conversation." He makes a feeble attempt at the buttons on his shirt, until Raven has to knock his hands away and do it herself. Once he's down to his undershirt, he looks up at her, and his expression is more fond than anything else. "The things I would do to you."
"If I weren't your sister," she says.
"Since when are you my sister?" he asks, struggling with his belt buckle. Raven's not going to touch it, especially with the way this conversation is going; if he can't get it open, that's between him and God.
She glowers at him. "Did you forget who you came home with?"
"You're not my sister," he says dismissively. "You're my Raven." He sighs, having figured out his belt and stripped down to his boxers. "Now, if you would just get naked and put yourself approximately," he indicates a point somewhere in the general direction of his lap, "here, I'd very much appreciate it." He squeezes his eyes shut. "But not right now. The room is spinning a little. I don't want you spinning. I suspect it would be uncomfortable."
"You're drunk," she tells him.
"I am so drunk," he agrees. "And you are so beautiful. And you must know how in love with you I am."
She purses her lips. "You're going to regret having said all this in the morning."
"I hope I don't, because every word of it is true," he says, lying back and stretching out on the bed, shutting his eyes. "Come and lie down with me. I promise I won't lay a finger on you."
She snorts. "It's not your fingers I'm worried about," she says.
"I promise to keep all my various bits to myself," he swears. "Besides, I'll be asleep within ten minutes. Your virtue will remain intact." He gives her a pitiful look. "Please?"
She sighs. "Will you at least let me brush my teeth and get undressed first?"
"Mmm, yes, undressed, that's a lovely idea." He holds up his hands when she looks at him hard. "I promised not to do anything inappropriate."
She rolls her eyes at him, going to the bathroom, and she's surprised when she comes back and he's actually still awake. He holds up the covers, and when she slips in beside him, he offers her his arm for a pillow. "You're ridiculous," she says, but she takes it, and he moves closer to her. "Charles," she warns.
"All my fingers and bits are over here," he protests, yawning.
"Keep it that way," she tells him, turning off the lamp. "Now go to sleep."
He nods, settling in, and it's barely any time at all before he drifts off; Raven's right behind him.
Of course, when she wakes up, he's all over her, curled up around her, his arm draped over her stomach. His dick is hard, and as he shifts it rubs up against her; she's ready to smack him until she realizes he's still out, snoring softly. He does it again, and that's when she has to get up, because it's giving her body ideas that her brain doesn't necessarily want to have.
He rouses when she untangles herself from him, reaching for her, but suddenly his eyes fly open. "Morning," he says carefully.
"Morning yourself," she replies.
He eyes her, a worried expression on his face. "We- we didn't do anything last night, did we?"
She gets up quickly, stepping away from him. "Thanks for that. That's what every girl wants to hear in the morning."
He groans. "Please tell me that didn't sound like I think it did." He catches her by the wrist before she can get too far away. "What I meant was that it would kill me to know I talked you into something you didn't want to do."
Her face softens. "Nothing happened," she says, petting his hair. "You were the perfect drunken gentleman."
He sighs. "Good."
"Except for everything you said," she says flatly.
Charles looks like a startled rabbit. "I, er, I was talkative?"
"Very," she tells him. "And I want to know if you meant it."
"Oh, no," he says, waving a finger at her, "I'm not falling into this trap. I don't know what it was that I said, and if I say I do mean it, it will have been insulting, and if I say I don't, it will have been complimentary."
She looks at him. "You said you wanted to sleep with me."
He looks nonplussed. "That's not really either, is it?"
"You were pretty insistent about it," she says. "And pretty detailed."
He puts his hand over his face. "Oh, dear."
She frowns. "Yeah."
"Emotionally or anatomically?" he says, peeking out at her from between his fingers.
"The first one."
"I was afraid of that."
"Would the other one have been better?" she asks.
"Well, possibly," he says, shrugging. "At least I'd be very clear about what I said."
"You keep on digging that hole," she tells him.
"How about we have some tea?" he says brightly, as if to distract her. "I just bought a fresh tin. I think we'll both feel much better after some tea."
"You're not getting out of this one," she warns him, crossing her arms. "We're talking about this right now."
He sits up, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. "If you could give me the gist of what I said, I could give you an answer."
"There was a lot of it, but the bottom line was pretty simple," she tells him. "You're in love with me, and you want to sleep with me."
"Yes, well," Charles says, looking uncomfortable. "All that seems to be right."
"Hmm," she says, considering him.
"That's your reply?" he says incredulously. "After all that, that's the best you've got?"
"Go take a shower," she tells him, "and we'll talk about it."
"Alright, then," he says, annoyed, pushing off the bed and walking into the bathroom.
When he comes back out again, scrubbing a towel through his hair, another around his waist, Raven is lying in bed, waiting for him, without a stitch of clothing on. Charles looks her up and down, his eyebrows rising so high that they're practically in his hairline. "If this is your idea of talking, I look forward to many long conversations."
She rolls her eyes. "Get over here."
He lets the towel drop to the floor, and Raven likes everything she sees. His cock is thick and already half-hard, and she can't even decide what she wants to do to him first. He climbs onto the bed, lying down beside her and pulling her towards him, pulling her into a kiss. She can't seem to stop kissing him; hot and wet and just firm enough, his hand warm on the side of her face; his hair is still damp, and it slides through her fingers, falling softly out of them. It's so good just to be pressed up against him like this, touching him everywhere, nothing separating them anymore.
Very reluctantly, he pulls back. "Just one moment," he says, rolling away from her, reaching into the nightstand drawer for a condom. When that's dealt with, he turns to her again, back into her arms.
"Just like this," she says, drawing her knee up and out of the way, reaching down to guide him inside her.
He groans, pushing into her slowly. "Oh god, Raven, you have no idea how long I've wanted-"
"Pretty sure I do," she replies, kissing him quiet. She's been waiting, wanting for so long that it's become background noise: the sky is blue, England is boring, she wants Charles, she's not going to get him. She's certainly getting him now, and there's no way to describe all the ways she's going to have him that isn't completely obscene, completely incongruous with what this is, how they're moving together, quiet and smooth.
He moves in and out of her slowly, lazily, almost like he's distracted by everything else there is to do, to kiss and touch. She rocks back against him for more, drawing him in, deeper inside of her. His mouth is busy but his thoughts are bleeding through, so good and want this and why didn't we, why haven't we always been. All she can do is kiss him harder, because she's certain she's already thinking loud enough for him to hear; there's no way he could ignore how she's feeling, not when every bit of her brain, every bit of her body is lit up with it, how much she wants, needs him.
When she comes, Charles following right after her, it's almost a shame; it's indescribably good, but it also means they have to stop, at least for the moment, that they can't do this forever and ever. Still, he doesn't let her go, and she makes no move at all to get away, just lying there wrapped up with him.
"Oh," he sighs, looking at her, resting his forehead against hers. "Oh, Raven."
"Yeah," she says breathlessly. "I know what you mean."
"Mmm," he says, running a hand down her flank. "Now, about that tea."
She raises an eyebrow at him. "This is what you're thinking about right now?"
He grins. "I've got to keep my strength up somehow."
She socks him lightly in the chest, laughing as she does it.
--
She's just gotten off work, and her everything is sore, starting with her feet and going all the way up to her brain. She's going to go home and collapse into the bathtub, and she only just remembers that she's got to swing by and pick up Charles, who's having a drink with someone after classes.
She's late, and she can't decide whether she'll end up gathering a lonely Charles or a tipsy one or both; when she walks into the pub, though, she doesn't see either. Charles is sitting at the bar talking to some woman, someone she doesn't recognize, someone who's got her hand on Charles's knee and is leaning towards him.
It hurts more than she expected, even though she thought it would come; Charles is like an alley cat, and somehow she'd always known he couldn't possibly be content with her.
She really wants to turn around and walk out, but just then Charles looks up and spots her. "Raven," he calls, waving her over, and she reluctantly goes. "This is my flatmate," he says to the woman; he motions to Raven, leaning up to whisper in her ear. "Raven," he hisses, "get me the hell away from this madwoman. She won't leave me be."
She laughs, pretending he's said something funny, and something releases in her chest. "Come on, honey," she says, putting her arm around his shoulders. "I've got something to show you."
"And what would that be?" the woman says, clearly annoyed.
Raven smiles. "Me, naked."
She rolls her eyes. "Has that line ever worked?"
"Just worked on me," Charles says, eying the bartender and putting money on the counter. "If you'll excuse me?"
As they go, Raven looks back over her shoulder at the woman, who's glaring at the two of them in disgust, and she grins.
As she turns back, Charles kisses her hair. "That was exactly what I needed, darling, thank you."
She takes his hand, entwining their fingers. "Do you want to get another round?"
"Certainly not," he says, affronted, steering them out the door and onto the street. "As I recall, I was promised a show, and I absolutely will not take a rain check."
She grins, pecking him on the cheek. "'Flatmate'? Really?"
He bumps her with his shoulder. "You try and sum us up in ten words or less," he challenges. "'Sister' is increasingly more inappropriate, 'lover' just sounds dreadful, 'friend' just sounds cold, 'girlfriend' would have gotten me slapped, possibly by both of you." He sighs. "'Flatmate' was the best I could do on short notice."
She stops, looking at him. "Then what am I?"
"As I've said," he tells her, leaning forward to kiss her, "you are my Raven, and I adore you."
She smiles, tugging at his hand. "Let's go home."
(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-24 12:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-24 12:48 am (UTC)