Fic: a truly wayward man
Feb. 8th, 2012 11:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinetzinTitle: a truly wayward man
Series: Brown Derby Jump
Summary: Erik has never even spoken to him before tonight.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 1905
Rating/Contents: NC-17, historical AU, oh my
Pairing: Erik/Raven, Charles/Raven, Erik/Charles
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: More of this thing. For Porn Battle prompt (they're more like suggestions) "tricks." Somewhere in here Erik got real alpha on me. I think I like it.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4
Erik's late tonight; he was already running behind, and it was hell getting a taxi. The club is already in full swing, the dance floor packed. Erik can't decide what he wants, right at the moment, so he grabs one of the tables up in the back, taking in the crowd.
He spots Raven almost immediately on the floor; her friend is standing at the bar, and Erik watches him watch her. Erik has never even spoken to him; his name is Charles, and he gets the sense that he and Raven have known each other for a very long time, but that's the extent of what he knows. When she doesn't go home with Erik, she goes home with him, and as far as Erik is concerned, that's starting to be a problem.
Raven's been going home with Erik for almost a month and a half now, but that's all. He doesn't know her phone number, doesn't know where she lives, isn't even entirely sure he knows her last name. He takes her home, they fuck, he calls her a cab, she leaves. More and more, Erik wants her to stay, but he's not going to say anything; if she wanted to, she'd do it. There's no sense embarrassing himself or making things awkward.
He's taking it out on her, though, knows he's doing it and can't seem to, doesn't really want to stop himself. He just keeps fucking her harder and harder, forcing her to take it, and he's just going to keep doing it until she stops him, which she doesn't seem inclined to do at all. He's sure he's sending her home with bruises by now, but he can't find it in himself to care; Charles can see them and think what he likes. He hopes Charles thinks about it. He hopes Charles thinks about it every time.
Erik thinks about it.
He shakes his head, bringing his attention back to what's in front of him. He can't see Charles anymore, but he can see Raven dancing with a somewhat gangly man with messy hair and glasses; Erik wouldn't be threatened by him even if he had a loaded gun in his hand.
Bad example.
Charles is an actual threat, one Erik should have been watching for, because now he's suddenly much too close, sliding into the seat across from Erik, setting his martini glass down on the table. "Hello," he says, and his clean, upper-class English accent isn't what Erik was expecting.
"Hello," Erik says tersely. "You can go now."
The corner of Charles's mouth quirks up. "Are you afraid we look like fairies, sitting here talking while ignoring all the beautiful women this room?"
It's a bold move, a very dangerous challenge, but Erik's not in the mood for it. "Maybe I don't want to sit around wasting my time talking to the competition," he says, laying it straight out.
"We're not competitors," Charles tells him, leaning towards him across the table. "We're people who share a common interest."
Erik gives him a hard look. "Is that so?"
Charles looks at him intently, raising his fingertips to his temple, and Erik's mind is suddenly filled with images, discrete parts of his life swirling together in some pattern he can't describe. He's feeling things- side by side, on top of one another, his memories and not, entangled. A coin flipping idly across the backs of his fingers, Charles dipping into someone's mind for a drink order; Raven underneath him, her body rolling over Charles's; the scrape of stubble against Erik's thigh, a cock pushing into Charles's mouth.
«Far more than you know,» Charles says, and his voice is going straight into Erik's mind, bypassing his ears entirely.
«Nice parlor trick,» Erik thinks.
«Thanks,» Charles says wryly.
«We're sitting here, not talking, staring at each other,» Erik thinks at him, which feels so strange and so easy at the same time. «Now we look like fairies.»
«Yes, right, hold on,» Charles says, and suddenly Erik's lips are moving without him; he can hear himself forming words, but he can't really hear what he's saying.
«Raven, is she-» and before he can finish his thought, his mind fills up with it, Raven's skin flickering, changing, flipping through so many faces before blue scales flow all the way down her body. She's almost glowing, the background faded away from her, and Erik gets it: it's not how Charles has seen her, it's how he sees her. «Impressive.»
«Wait until you see it up close,» Charles says, and it's not an accident that it's a "when" statement, not "if."
«I'm not sure what you want from me,» Erik tells him. «If you're offering me a half-share in Raven, I'm fairly certain I can do better on my own.»
Charles grins. «A half-share in Raven and a half-share in me,» he says. «Last I checked, that was a whole.»
Erik raises an eyebrow at him; Charles is extremely pretty, but that's still very brassy of him. «You're awfully presumptuous.»
«I don't have to be,» Charles tells him. «I won't press if you're not interested,» he says lightly, and then something in his face goes hard, making him look dangerous all of a sudden; it's surprisingly attractive on him. «But you should know she comes home to me.»
A smile spreads on Erik's face. «I don't know if I can say say yes,» he tells Charles, «without some demonstration of the product.»
«I think that's a marvelous idea,» Charles says. He picks up his glass, tossing back the rest of his drink without hesitation. «It just so happens I have my samples at home.»
Charles's apartment is big; one of Raven's purses is on the end table in the living room, and that alone speaks volumes. Erik gets the sense that Charles is about to offer him coffee or some such nonsense, so he grabs him and drags him in, kissing him firmly. Charles opens up for him easily, putting his arms around Erik's neck to pull him down, keep him at just the right height to press their lips together. It's definitely good, but it's not what he came here for; they didn't go through all that build up for sweet or polite.
Erik pushes him away. "Bedroom?"
"Through here," he says, taking Erik's wrist and pulling him along. Charles leads him in, and he makes no move to shut the door behind them; this thing with him and Raven is a little more interesting than Erik thought.
Erik reaches for him again, kissing him harder this time, his hand gripping Charles's hair to pull his head back. Now Charles is getting the picture, groaning into Erik's mouth; he's fighting Erik for it a little, but only enough that there's no question that he knows Erik will win.
When they separate, Charles strips out of his clothes so fast that Erik's not a hundred percent sure how he's done it; Erik's only just gotten down to his undershirt. He's just about to ask where the vaseline is, but Charles just sinks to the floor in front of him. He runs his hands over the placket of Erik's trousers, cupping Erik's hardening cock, looking up at him.
"Get on with it," Erik orders, and Charles grins. He unzips Erik's fly, pushing his clothing down around his thighs; he licks his palm, making a satisfied sound when he finally gets his hand around him. Charles strokes him slowly, so slowly at first, and Erik can't help moaning when he bends down and slides his lips around his cock. He knows what he's doing, his tongue working as he sucks, his hand moving on what he can't get into his mouth- and it isn't much, less than a lot of people who've tried.
Erik looks down, and he's struck by what he sees; Charles is kneeling for him, completely naked, Erik's cock disappearing into his mouth over and over again, and Erik just feels so goddamned powerful. There's no question who's in charge, who owns who here; Erik is victorious, and to the victor go the spoils- Charles, Raven, whatever he fucking wants.
Erik knows that none of this is spontaneous or instinctual; Charles is reaching straight into his mind and pulling out what he wants, finding all the buttons that need to get pressed. It doesn't matter for a second, because he's following through, he knows what Erik wants and he's doing it. Erik's fairly certain Charles could stop him dead with a thought, but he's capitulating of his own free will.
The sheer idea of it presses him forward, drives him closer to the edge; then Charles does some kind of complicated trick with his tongue and Erik comes, his hand pushing on the back of Charles's head, not letting him go until he's swallowed every bit of it.
When it's done, Erik reaches down and gives Charles a hand up; Charles is a little shaky, and his cock is so hard that it looks painful. Erik walks him backwards towards the bed, shoving him onto it, far enough that there's room for Erik to kneel in between his legs. Erik strips out of his undershirt, throwing it to the floor; then he leans down, his mouth close enough to Charles's dick that Charles can probably feel his breath.
"You don't have to do that," Charles says quickly.
"Shut up," Erik tells him; he knows he doesn't, but his sense of fair play far outstrips his concern over his masculinity. He takes Charles's cock into his mouth, and Charles makes a broken, desperate noise; he can already tell it's been a long time since anyone's done this to him. Maybe a man's never done it; maybe they've only ever taken what he's offered, maybe they've left him untouched because of their pride.
Erik knows a lot about pride, possibly more than anyone else; it's just that he knows that it and sex have never gotten along.
Charles bucks up into his mouth, and Erik puts a hand on his hip, pushing him down into the mattress to keep him still; this is going to go the way he wants it to. He's aware that he's not as good at this as Charles is, but it doesn't matter, not if the noises Charles is making are any indication, the way he's clawing at the bedsheets.
Charles doesn't last very long at all, and Erik can't help but be a little smug about it. He makes the best sounds when he comes, achy, desperate ones, broken up by indiscriminate and mostly unintelligible swearing. When Erik lifts his head away, Charles is staring at him wide-eyed, like he can't believe that just happened, like he can't believe Erik just let him do that, and Erik can only smirk in response.
Erik stands up, bending over and spitting into the wastebasket by the side of the bed. His trousers are still mostly on; he pulls them up, zipping his fly, and looks around for his undershirt.
"You should stay," Charles tells him, propping himself up on his elbows.
Erik raises an eyebrow at him. "Why's that?"
"Raven will be home any minute," he points out.
"You may have a point," Erik says.
Charles just grins.
Series: Brown Derby Jump
Summary: Erik has never even spoken to him before tonight.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 1905
Rating/Contents: NC-17, historical AU, oh my
Pairing: Erik/Raven, Charles/Raven, Erik/Charles
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: More of this thing. For Porn Battle prompt (they're more like suggestions) "tricks." Somewhere in here Erik got real alpha on me. I think I like it.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4
Erik's late tonight; he was already running behind, and it was hell getting a taxi. The club is already in full swing, the dance floor packed. Erik can't decide what he wants, right at the moment, so he grabs one of the tables up in the back, taking in the crowd.
He spots Raven almost immediately on the floor; her friend is standing at the bar, and Erik watches him watch her. Erik has never even spoken to him; his name is Charles, and he gets the sense that he and Raven have known each other for a very long time, but that's the extent of what he knows. When she doesn't go home with Erik, she goes home with him, and as far as Erik is concerned, that's starting to be a problem.
Raven's been going home with Erik for almost a month and a half now, but that's all. He doesn't know her phone number, doesn't know where she lives, isn't even entirely sure he knows her last name. He takes her home, they fuck, he calls her a cab, she leaves. More and more, Erik wants her to stay, but he's not going to say anything; if she wanted to, she'd do it. There's no sense embarrassing himself or making things awkward.
He's taking it out on her, though, knows he's doing it and can't seem to, doesn't really want to stop himself. He just keeps fucking her harder and harder, forcing her to take it, and he's just going to keep doing it until she stops him, which she doesn't seem inclined to do at all. He's sure he's sending her home with bruises by now, but he can't find it in himself to care; Charles can see them and think what he likes. He hopes Charles thinks about it. He hopes Charles thinks about it every time.
Erik thinks about it.
He shakes his head, bringing his attention back to what's in front of him. He can't see Charles anymore, but he can see Raven dancing with a somewhat gangly man with messy hair and glasses; Erik wouldn't be threatened by him even if he had a loaded gun in his hand.
Bad example.
Charles is an actual threat, one Erik should have been watching for, because now he's suddenly much too close, sliding into the seat across from Erik, setting his martini glass down on the table. "Hello," he says, and his clean, upper-class English accent isn't what Erik was expecting.
"Hello," Erik says tersely. "You can go now."
The corner of Charles's mouth quirks up. "Are you afraid we look like fairies, sitting here talking while ignoring all the beautiful women this room?"
It's a bold move, a very dangerous challenge, but Erik's not in the mood for it. "Maybe I don't want to sit around wasting my time talking to the competition," he says, laying it straight out.
"We're not competitors," Charles tells him, leaning towards him across the table. "We're people who share a common interest."
Erik gives him a hard look. "Is that so?"
Charles looks at him intently, raising his fingertips to his temple, and Erik's mind is suddenly filled with images, discrete parts of his life swirling together in some pattern he can't describe. He's feeling things- side by side, on top of one another, his memories and not, entangled. A coin flipping idly across the backs of his fingers, Charles dipping into someone's mind for a drink order; Raven underneath him, her body rolling over Charles's; the scrape of stubble against Erik's thigh, a cock pushing into Charles's mouth.
«Far more than you know,» Charles says, and his voice is going straight into Erik's mind, bypassing his ears entirely.
«Nice parlor trick,» Erik thinks.
«Thanks,» Charles says wryly.
«We're sitting here, not talking, staring at each other,» Erik thinks at him, which feels so strange and so easy at the same time. «Now we look like fairies.»
«Yes, right, hold on,» Charles says, and suddenly Erik's lips are moving without him; he can hear himself forming words, but he can't really hear what he's saying.
«Raven, is she-» and before he can finish his thought, his mind fills up with it, Raven's skin flickering, changing, flipping through so many faces before blue scales flow all the way down her body. She's almost glowing, the background faded away from her, and Erik gets it: it's not how Charles has seen her, it's how he sees her. «Impressive.»
«Wait until you see it up close,» Charles says, and it's not an accident that it's a "when" statement, not "if."
«I'm not sure what you want from me,» Erik tells him. «If you're offering me a half-share in Raven, I'm fairly certain I can do better on my own.»
Charles grins. «A half-share in Raven and a half-share in me,» he says. «Last I checked, that was a whole.»
Erik raises an eyebrow at him; Charles is extremely pretty, but that's still very brassy of him. «You're awfully presumptuous.»
«I don't have to be,» Charles tells him. «I won't press if you're not interested,» he says lightly, and then something in his face goes hard, making him look dangerous all of a sudden; it's surprisingly attractive on him. «But you should know she comes home to me.»
A smile spreads on Erik's face. «I don't know if I can say say yes,» he tells Charles, «without some demonstration of the product.»
«I think that's a marvelous idea,» Charles says. He picks up his glass, tossing back the rest of his drink without hesitation. «It just so happens I have my samples at home.»
Charles's apartment is big; one of Raven's purses is on the end table in the living room, and that alone speaks volumes. Erik gets the sense that Charles is about to offer him coffee or some such nonsense, so he grabs him and drags him in, kissing him firmly. Charles opens up for him easily, putting his arms around Erik's neck to pull him down, keep him at just the right height to press their lips together. It's definitely good, but it's not what he came here for; they didn't go through all that build up for sweet or polite.
Erik pushes him away. "Bedroom?"
"Through here," he says, taking Erik's wrist and pulling him along. Charles leads him in, and he makes no move to shut the door behind them; this thing with him and Raven is a little more interesting than Erik thought.
Erik reaches for him again, kissing him harder this time, his hand gripping Charles's hair to pull his head back. Now Charles is getting the picture, groaning into Erik's mouth; he's fighting Erik for it a little, but only enough that there's no question that he knows Erik will win.
When they separate, Charles strips out of his clothes so fast that Erik's not a hundred percent sure how he's done it; Erik's only just gotten down to his undershirt. He's just about to ask where the vaseline is, but Charles just sinks to the floor in front of him. He runs his hands over the placket of Erik's trousers, cupping Erik's hardening cock, looking up at him.
"Get on with it," Erik orders, and Charles grins. He unzips Erik's fly, pushing his clothing down around his thighs; he licks his palm, making a satisfied sound when he finally gets his hand around him. Charles strokes him slowly, so slowly at first, and Erik can't help moaning when he bends down and slides his lips around his cock. He knows what he's doing, his tongue working as he sucks, his hand moving on what he can't get into his mouth- and it isn't much, less than a lot of people who've tried.
Erik looks down, and he's struck by what he sees; Charles is kneeling for him, completely naked, Erik's cock disappearing into his mouth over and over again, and Erik just feels so goddamned powerful. There's no question who's in charge, who owns who here; Erik is victorious, and to the victor go the spoils- Charles, Raven, whatever he fucking wants.
Erik knows that none of this is spontaneous or instinctual; Charles is reaching straight into his mind and pulling out what he wants, finding all the buttons that need to get pressed. It doesn't matter for a second, because he's following through, he knows what Erik wants and he's doing it. Erik's fairly certain Charles could stop him dead with a thought, but he's capitulating of his own free will.
The sheer idea of it presses him forward, drives him closer to the edge; then Charles does some kind of complicated trick with his tongue and Erik comes, his hand pushing on the back of Charles's head, not letting him go until he's swallowed every bit of it.
When it's done, Erik reaches down and gives Charles a hand up; Charles is a little shaky, and his cock is so hard that it looks painful. Erik walks him backwards towards the bed, shoving him onto it, far enough that there's room for Erik to kneel in between his legs. Erik strips out of his undershirt, throwing it to the floor; then he leans down, his mouth close enough to Charles's dick that Charles can probably feel his breath.
"You don't have to do that," Charles says quickly.
"Shut up," Erik tells him; he knows he doesn't, but his sense of fair play far outstrips his concern over his masculinity. He takes Charles's cock into his mouth, and Charles makes a broken, desperate noise; he can already tell it's been a long time since anyone's done this to him. Maybe a man's never done it; maybe they've only ever taken what he's offered, maybe they've left him untouched because of their pride.
Erik knows a lot about pride, possibly more than anyone else; it's just that he knows that it and sex have never gotten along.
Charles bucks up into his mouth, and Erik puts a hand on his hip, pushing him down into the mattress to keep him still; this is going to go the way he wants it to. He's aware that he's not as good at this as Charles is, but it doesn't matter, not if the noises Charles is making are any indication, the way he's clawing at the bedsheets.
Charles doesn't last very long at all, and Erik can't help but be a little smug about it. He makes the best sounds when he comes, achy, desperate ones, broken up by indiscriminate and mostly unintelligible swearing. When Erik lifts his head away, Charles is staring at him wide-eyed, like he can't believe that just happened, like he can't believe Erik just let him do that, and Erik can only smirk in response.
Erik stands up, bending over and spitting into the wastebasket by the side of the bed. His trousers are still mostly on; he pulls them up, zipping his fly, and looks around for his undershirt.
"You should stay," Charles tells him, propping himself up on his elbows.
Erik raises an eyebrow at him. "Why's that?"
"Raven will be home any minute," he points out.
"You may have a point," Erik says.
Charles just grins.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-09 01:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-11 10:18 am (UTC)I like the way Erik thinks.