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«Hold still,» Charles thinks, fingers to his temple, and of course Erik can't move a muscle. He can breathe, but that's about all. He's naked and spread out on his back, hands at his sides, legs apart, ready and willing-- well, more than willing, this was his idea.
«Is it all right?»
«Yes, I'm fine,» Erik thinks, but truthfully, this is very strange. He's still present in his body, he can still feel everything that's happening to him, but he can't move. Not to tighten or loosen the muscles of his shoulders, not to close his hands, not to lick his lips... if Charles had wanted to, he could have controlled Erik's breathing, too, taken over his blinking. «Couldn't you?» Erik asks, wondering how closely Charles is listening in.
«Fairly closely, I'm afraid,» Charles admits. «And I could have taken over your breathing or your blinking, but they're both rather important to me! I'd have just put them in sync with mine so I wouldn't have to think about them.»
He kneels up between Erik's legs. He's naked, too, and holding Erik down this way appears to be taking so much concentration that Charles can't take his hand away from his temple. Erik wishes he could tilt his neck up to get a better look at Charles-- and as soon as the wish occurs to him, Charles grants it, gently moving Erik's head up and finding a position that only causes him limited strain. Erik drinks in the sight of him, slight but solid, freckled all over, a few love bites decorating his neck and chest. His eyes linger on the marks, all of which are a few days old by now.
«I'd like to give you new ones,» he thinks up at Charles.
Charles grins, ear-to-ear, but then he settles Erik's head back on the pillows, climbing onto Erik's body and bracing his free hand down by Erik's shoulder. If Erik could move, Charles would be close enough to touch; Erik could wrap an arm around him and tug him down. Only a few inches separate them, but with Erik held immobile this way, it might as well be miles.
«You can mark me all you want,» Charles thinks, «later. Tonight you're mine.» The satisfaction suffusing that thought is very flattering; Erik draws in a breath, as deep as he can, and feels his chest rise, nearly moving enough to make contact with Charles above him. Not quite enough, though. Charles straightens his arm, too, widening the distance between them. «I think I've got hold of you enough to let this go,» he says, taking his hand away from his temple and wiggling his fingers slightly. «Will you stay still long enough to let me catch you again, if I lose hold?»
«I might.» Erik smiles up at the ceiling. «Are you willing to take your chances?»
«Hmm... best-case scenario, I slam you into the bed again and have my way with you... worst-case scenario, you get the upper hand and...?»
«Have your way with you...?»
«I'll take the chance,» Charles thinks, with a little mental laugh. He drops his hand, putting it on the other side of Erik's shoulders for balance. «There, that's a little easier. Can you move?»
Erik tries, and when he can't move his arms or his legs or his body, he tries to shake his head. Nothing happens, but Charles can sense the attempt at movement in his mind. He grins. «Perfect. Now just stay like that and...»
Erik takes slow, deep breaths as Charles crawls down his body, licking here, nibbling there. A sharp nip to the smooth curve of muscle just above Erik's left nipple, and then a longer teasing lick down-- and down-- and, yes, there, circling Erik's nipple and sucking lightly on it before moving down again.
«What's it like?» Charles asks. «Do you like it, do you need me to let you move? If you were tied up in ropes or chained up, you'd at least be able to stretch, move a little to ease your muscles if they get stiff. It wouldn't be...»
It wouldn't be quite this total, Erik thinks, but that's part of the appeal. Charles is no ordinary man, and this is not one of the encounters Erik might have had with a man he'd met in a pub, or at a train station, or in first class on an airplane, intrigued by the stranger beside him. For once, Erik's with an equal, and he closes his eyes as Charles sweeps his tongue down the long lean muscles of Erik's abdomen.
There's a ticklish spot just below his navel, and Erik feels the sensation-- but held this still, he can't shift or squirm, can only make a muffled grunt as Charles focuses in on that spot and licks a little more intently. Erik moans through his barely-parted lips, past teeth that are together but not clenched. «Charles--»
«Tell me to stop. I'll stop. You know I would.» But since Erik hasn't said to stop yet, Charles doesn't, only going on with quick little flicks of his tongue. Apparently he's determined to get every bit of mileage out of that ticklish spot he can. Inside his mind Erik's writhing, but all his body can do is hitch in breaths, faster and faster, the barest traces of grunts and hisses working their way out into the open. His chest jerks with too many quick inhales and exhales, air rushing past his lips, and Charles takes pity on him before he can make himself weak or dizzy.
«If you're going to be doing any heavy breathing, let's make sure it's because I'm doing something particularly clever and not because I know where your ticklish spots are, hm?»
«...yes,» Erik manages, his thoughts far less ordered now, «yes, let's.»
"I can think of a few clever things from here," Charles murmurs, pressing a kiss to Erik's stomach, and then he's moving down again, his face brushing against Erik's wiry curls as he moves to kiss the inside of Erik's thigh. «You were keen on marks earlier, are you still? How would you like one on you instead of me for once?»
«There?» Erik asks. If he could move, he'd bounce his thigh a bit, feel the scrape of Charles's stubble against it, but as it is he can only pass the image along. He's certain it comes through, but Charles doesn't give him the soft rub he's craving. He leaves his cheek where it is, just above Erik's thigh, not making contact.
«I could do it anywhere I wanted,» Charles thinks. «Anywhere I wanted, and you couldn't stop me. But you didn't answer me. Do you want it?»
«Yes,» Erik thinks. He remembers Charles thinking tonight you're mine, and he closes his eyes. «Yes. I want it.»
Charles's teeth come down on the inside of his thigh, gently at first and then harder. He sucks at the skin, biting harder and harder until Erik would be shaking if he could be. Erik's breaths are all soft hisses now, the rush of air behind his teeth all he can control. Charles draws away from the bite, far enough to look at it, and he licks over the spot, moaning softly against Erik's skin.
«There. Mine.»
With that, Charles is kneeling up again, and Erik's legs move of their own accord, drawing themselves up and back. He catches them, hands coming to rest behind his knees, holding his legs in place. The muscles around Erik's eyes must still be under his control, because his eyes widen. He's fully in position to be fucked, to be taken roughly from the top, and Charles heads for his nightstand, rooting around inside it for a bit of hand cream to ease Erik open.
«Yes,» Erik thinks, flushing with the desire for this, «yes, ready, please--»
His right leg slips a little, and he catches it and draws it back again before he realizes what's happening. Charles spins, fingers flying up to his temple as he narrows his eyes at Erik, and Erik doesn't have time to make a move before he's back under Charles's grip. He can't smile, but he can certainly think a wicked grin at Charles, his sense of almost had you.
«Almost, but not even close,» Charles thinks, narrowing his eyes. «You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you.»
Maybe that should seem ominous. It might worry Erik if he had reason to believe Charles would ever hurt him. But instead it feels like a promise, one Erik very much wants Charles to carry through on.
«Get over here, then.»
"I'm sorry, who was in charge here tonight?" Charles arches an eyebrow at Erik. "Maybe you'd better remind us both, I think one of us might have forgotten."
Erik's just about to respond when he finds himself flipping over, elbows and knees underneath him. It's not a position he puts himself in very often-- too vulnerable, it means he can't see what's happening, is reduced to nothing but how it feels and how hard Charles wants to take him-- but the fact that Charles wants him this way, now, sends a thrill up the center of Erik's back. «You,» Erik thinks, «it's all up to you.»
"That's right," Charles murmurs, voice like silk. He puts a hand on the small of Erik's back, and his other hand comes up, between Erik's cheeks, pressing-- searching-- there, two fingers twisting into him. Erik wants to gasp, but he can only breathe a little deeper, waiting for his body to accept the stretch.
«I could get you ready a little faster,» Charles thinks. He twists his hand, and Erik has the strangest sensation of relaxing, his body suddenly open and eager for Charles's fingers, for more than just his fingers. Simply breathing deeply and focusing on the pleasure has never done this much for him; instead of taking long minutes to warm up, he's hot now, ready for Charles to fuck him now.
He would shudder if he could, from the shocking hot want of it, but he can only hold still. He can only wait.
«That's it, I can feel you--» Charles's thoughts are growing hazy from desire. Thank God; it means it's not just Erik, being driven mad by all this. «I can feel you wanting me. Wanting me when I'm doing this to you, Erik, yes, yes--»
Charles withdraws his fingers, and the loss is a heavy ache for just a moment, but then he's moving inside Erik, thrusting forward hard, being rough about it, burying himself to the root in one deep shove. He gets his hands on Erik's hips and grips him there, fingers tight on the bend between hip and thigh, and for a few moments he just holds still, his cock filling Erik so completely that Erik feels tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. «Yes yes yes, Charles...»
«--God, you want this, you want this so much, you want me to fuck you so badly, Erik, I'm never going to last,» Charles thinks, groaning as he rocks back the slightest amount and then shoves back into Erik, hard again, rough again. «I'm so close, you can't know what holding you down this way feels like, I can't believe you're letting me do this--»
«I want it.» Erik shoves the thought into Charles's mind, fills Charles's mind with the knowledge and certainty of it just as thoroughly as Charles is filling Erik's body. «I want it. I want you. Do this to me, do it harder, more of it, please--»
As soon as the plea leaves his mind, his arms are shifting, his left arm centering itself underneath his chest, forearm straight and holding his weight, his right hand coming off the bed and slipping between his legs. He wraps-- Charles wraps-- his hand around his cock, and starts jerking himself off fast and tight. The motion's nothing like it would be on his own, nothing at all, this is amazing, incredible, like having Charles stroke him to his climax--
--because it is, yes, fuck, and the knowledge sends Erik careening toward the edge and wishing he could throw his head back to yell. Charles is there with him, hands gripping his hips tightly, slamming in for thrust after thrust, and then he's coming, his pleasure lighting up Erik's mind and then his body, dragging Erik into that brilliant rush of fulfilled need right along with him.
His grip on Erik's body comes loose, but Erik's braced well; his body sags, his head drops, and he licks his lips, feeling strangely connected to himself again. He thinks of moving, and he moves. He thinks of taking his hand off his cock, and his hand is down on the bed, slowly dragging upward until he's got both hands beneath him, supporting him, one clean and one sticky with the evidence of how very, very much he liked all this.
Charles slips out of him, groaning, and collapses on the bed at Erik's side. Erik wipes his hand on the bedspread and stretches, feeling a bit like a cat-- needing to round out his back, shake out his neck, stretch all his limbs, now that he can finally move everything under his own power again.
When he's done stretching, he crawls over to Charles, settling down on his side and pulling Charles into his arms, against the curve of his body.
"Happy?" Erik murmurs. Charles nods fervently against Erik's shoulder, the warmth and emotion radiating from him as if they're physical sensations that Erik can touch. "That was--"
"Astonishing," Charles mumbles. "Enlightening. Moving."
"Brilliant," Erik finishes. "And something we'll have to do again."
Charles tips his head back, looking up at Erik. There are nearly stars in his eyes, his expression's so bright. «You really mean it,» he thinks.
Erik reaches out and brushes his fingertips over Charles's temple. «I really mean it,» he thinks. «Look inside, feel what I felt. All of it. I wanted it, and you made it so much better than I thought it would be...»
«I was trying,» Charles thinks, but he's giving Erik a soft shy look, biting at his lower lip and looking at Erik from under his eyelashes. «Not everyone is as brave as you.»
«Not everyone is as kind as you,» Erik says without thinking. He blinks a few times-- oh, sometimes it's dangerous to be post-coital with a telepath, particularly one he's as fond of as he is of Charles-- but Charles is blinking back at him every bit as much.
«I don't hear that very often,» he admits. He reaches up and puts a hand on Erik's shoulder. «Not when it comes to my ability. People tend to be afraid, when they see what I can do, when they feel their minds changing or their bodies holding still...»
Erik bends his head down and kisses Charles, and while the kiss starts out soft and gentle, it quickly turns into more. Erik's mouth slants over Charles's, forces Charles's mouth open and takes control. He's kissing Charles so hard they roll over, Charles on his back, Erik quickly following, and Charles gasps, moans in surrender. He gets his legs around Erik's thighs, knees drawn up, calves rubbing hard against Erik's legs. If Erik could, he'd take this kiss even further, keep on kissing the breath from Charles until he was pounding into Charles, rough and brutal and staking his claim.
«...Oh, yes, I can feel it,» Charles thinks, hands scrambling against Erik's back. «I can feel that, feel what you'd-- I want it too, I'm yours too, Erik, Erik--»
Erik draws back and looks down at Charles, lips reddened, eyes wide and dark, breath coming faster and faster. «You are,» Erik thinks down at him, «mine, and I'm yours,» and he kisses Charles again, still roughly, still forcing Charles to give him the upper hand, «and I'm not afraid of you.»
«I love you,» Charles thinks, giddy, the thought bursting out of his mind all at once. It's like confetti, like fireworks, like words he just couldn't hold back anymore.
Erik stops kissing him, resting his forehead against Charles's and closing his eyes. «You know,» he thinks. «You've always known. About me. Haven't you?»
Charles's hand comes up, his fingertips tracing a slow path from Erik's temple to the curve of his jaw. «I was hoping that I wasn't only seeing what I wanted to see,» he thinks, thoughts nearly a whisper in Erik's mind. «But yes. I've known for a while. I just wasn't sure what you'd think if I told you...»
«That I'd like to keep hearing it,» Erik answers, shutting his eyes tightly. He was telling the truth when he told Charles he wasn't afraid of him, but this-- he could be afraid of this, if he let himself be.
«Don't be,» Charles thinks. He curls his mind around Erik's the way he's curling his body around Erik's, reassurance and love and passion settling over him like a blanket, like comfort. «I love you. Believe in that.»
Erik exhales softly and bends his head down, burying his face in the curve of Charles's shoulder. «I'll try.»
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