BY : Citizenjess
Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Slash - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 922
Disclaimer: I do not own "X-Men" or any of the characters therein. I do not make any money off of this work of fiction.

After the first round of experimentation with Sinister's gene transfer device, they're all moved to separate cells, "to wait," Sinister tells them blithely; if there's one thing Charles can say for Magneto's Citadel, it's that there is no shortage of room to store important things or people. He can see both the potential it may have had in his old friend's eyes, and also precisely how it had ended up like this.

Charles is lightheaded when Amphibious, one of the mutates, releases his bonds from the stone wall. The mind control that he's endured has made his head pound, and, weakened, he barely struggles before he's wrestled to his knees, his arms rebound behind his back (with rope, this time, rather than the thick vines hanging down the wall; as the past few weeks have shown him, the Savage Land is a bizarre mix of primitive and advanced). His own pain, and the emotional guilt of knowing that he is responsible for leading his X-Men into Sinister's trap, weigh heavily on him. He barely notices when he's being tugged to his feet again and marched down a long corridor.

It's Sinister himself who fairly shoves Charles down the hallway, which both surprises and doesn't surprise him. From what he's gathered, Sinister is something of a collector of mutantkind and its vast array of powers and abilities. In that sense, it figures that he would want to carefully preserve anyone who might end up in his grasp, particularly a mutant whom he's gone to obviously great lengths to attain in the first place. It unnerves Charles just how much planning has gone into securing both himself and Magneto. It also makes him wonder at his foolhardiness in trying to pass off his discreet meeting with the other mutant off to his students as a "personal matter." Surely, the discomfort of knowing that Charles Xavier and his nemesis weren't exactly rivals would still be preferable to being nearly killed repeatedly by prehistoric creatures for weeks on end.

At last, Sinister stops him in front of a specific cell, and opens it before shoving Charles forward. Charles stumbles, and then realizes that he is not to be the space's only occupant. "Comfortable, Magneto?" Sinister gloats, and Charles mouths Magneto's name and tries to collect his bearings.

The other man lies on the floor of the cell on his belly, bound tightly at the ankles and knees, as well as his elbows and wrists, with yet more rope. The tell-tale helmet is still affixed to his head, though Charles imagines that it would have had to have been removed briefly in order to affix the wad of cloth serving as a gag around Magneto's head. Magneto's face is turned towards the door, and his eyes narrow as he lets out a low growl. In truth, were it not for the considerable sense of peril they're both in, Charles would have found the image of a squirming Master of Magnetism bound and gagged in full regalia rather amusing. As it is, he simply makes eye contact with Magneto, trying to convey his sympathy and determination to, somehow, make this all right again.

Sinister, on the other hand, laughs smugly, steering Charles closer to the bound mutant, one hand on his shoulder, another on his lower arm just above his own bound wrists. "Your mutates are no longer loyal to you, Magneto," he gloats, and Charles understands this to mean that said mutates are responsible for Magneto's particularly rough bondage. With luck, the fact that Magneto is still clothed and booted will cut down on the abrasions on his skin from the rope.

When Magneto does not respond to Sinister's goading, Sinister rears up and kicks him sharply in the ribs. Magneto convulses in pain and grunts, and Sinister smirks. He seems further elated by the quiet, firm "stop it" from Charles, his grin widening. "People usually do what you order them to do, don't they, Charles? How does it feel to be utterly helpless?"

"There's no need for violence, Sinister." Charles' voice is calm and steady, in spite of his rising anxiety. "You have us where you want us."

Sinister's smile is toothy, fanged. "I most certainly do." He shoves Charles again to his knees, and they land hard, scant inches from Magneto's face. "I have two of the world's most powerful mutants bound and caged, ready to do my bidding." He cocks his head. "It's fascinating, isn't it? Two men with your abilities, on opposite sides of the same battle for mutant supremacy. The pacifist" - at this, he grips Charles' shoulder - "and the warrior," he continues, and Magneto glares. "Of course, I would be doing either of you a favor getting rid of the other, wouldn't I?"

Charles stiffens. "Our philosophies are not that different," he says curtly. Sinister looks at him mockingly.

"Fascinating," he smiles, patting Charles on the head condescendingly. Then he reaches down and grabs Magneto's chin, roughly forcing his face upwards, visibly straining the other man's neck muscles. "Is it true?" he asks Magneto. "Are you and the professor actually good friends?" Magneto struggles, his face reddening, but Sinister does not let up. "I've seen Charles defend your honor," he continues thoughtfully. "What about you?"

It happens quickly, and Charles' reflexes are slowed, and so it's unexpected. Suddenly, Sinister is just there, two fingers pressed to Charles forehead, and thick bursts of pain emanating from them as he forces his way into Charles' mind. Unwittingly, Charles begins to scream and thrash, and Sinister laughs. "I'm not sure I'm convinced, Magneto," he rasps, and Charles bucks forward as the pain intensifies. Then, just as quickly, it ceases, and he slumps forward, his chest heaving. "What ..." Sinister starts to say, and that's when the metal door of the cell begins to rattle, ever so slightly. Sinister's eyes narrow at Magneto, and Charles realizes: Magneto shouldn't be able to do that.

Sinister raises himself to full height and frowns at them. "Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen," he says coolly, but Charles can tell that it is forced nonchalance. "You're going to be here a long time." He leaves in a swish of cape, heavy boots thudding heavily on the ground, the sound reverberating even after he's well down the corridor.

Charles sighs, partially in relief, partially in frustration. "Well, that was interesting," he mutters sarcastically, and summons the energy to begin trying to flex his fingers, stretching them towards his back pocket. Magneto watches him silently, his face still red and covered in a light sheen of perspiration. Not for the first time, Charles laments not being able to communicate telepathically, which he then accompanies with an inward chiding that he relies on his powers far too much.

His first few attempts fail, leaving him increasingly frustrated. "Blasted ... it's here, I know it ..." Charles murmurs, and then, at last, there it is. The pocket knife is small and a bit dull, and it makes him nervous not to be able to watch what he's sawing into with considerable pressure, but eventually, he feels a piece of rope give, and then another, and then the rest. Triumphantly, he brings his hands in front of himself anew, flexing his arms against the sudden tightness. Then, huffing a successful sigh, he removes Magneto's helmet, setting it carefully aside, and fumbles with the gag, eventually unwinding it from around the other man's head. He's mopping Magneto's face with a dry scrap of the fabric when the bound man licks his lips and then smirks. "Ever the Boy Scout, I see, Charles," he rumbles softly, and Charles frowns in mock-anger, holding up the gag anew.

"I can put this back in," he admonishes, but his eyes gleam and Magneto smiles genuinely at him.

"That won't be necessary." He relaxes slightly when Charles moves closer and begins cutting at the ropes still binding him, arms first, wrists and then elbows, Charles' hands immediately going to rub at Magneto's assuredly sore arms. "Thank you, Charles," he murmurs, and continues to lie still as Charles shifts to remove the bindings from his legs.

"You're welcome."

When all of the ropes have been severed, Magneto slowly pulls himself into a crouch, and then up into a kneeling position. He breathes a small sigh, and then reaches out and grasps Charles' wrist in both gloved hands. Charles blinks in confusion, and then nods gratefully when Magneto begins massaging the area where his own bindings left thick, red grooves in his skin. When the task is finished on one hand, Magneto motions for Charles to proffer the other, and the task begins anew.

"I did, you know," Magneto says after a while, and Charles blinks, wondering if he's missed something.


Magneto clears his throat. "I defended your honor. Just before Sinister made you contact your students. I care, Charles. We may be on opposite ends of all this more often than not, but I still care."

Charles shakes his head and smiles, recalling the other man's exact words at the time: "'The most powerful mutants in the world will rise up to avenge Charles Xavier.'" It is, in fact, extremely flattering. He reaches out with one hand and grasps Magneto's shoulder. "The rantings of our charming host do not concern me." Magneto laughs, but does not look convinced. "It would be curious for you to have risked your life to save mine on so many occasions in the past few weeks if you did not still care, my friend."

"I was merely following on your footsteps," Magneto returns, and then blinks and touches Charles' leg briefly. "It has been good seeing you walk again, Charles. You deserve to stand proudly alongside the gods."

Charles smiles ruefully. "I fear I have enjoyed the reprieve from my handicap far too much." He looks away, suddenly encased in guilt. "It has allowed me to pretend that my time here will not have consequences; but of course, they already do."

Magneto reaches out and tugs the other man closer by the shoulders. "You are not responsible for everybody else's actions, Charles," he says, his voice surprisingly firm. "You cannot control everything."

Charles shakes his head, still mired in his thoughts. "It's my fault that they're coming here, Magneto," he says softly, almost in a whisper. "They trusted me, and I -"

"Stop. Stop this right now," Magneto commands, shaking him a little. "They know you well. They will understand that it is considerable danger that has kept you away. They will read between the lines of Sinister's plan and stop him."

"You're so sure," Charles sighs, meeting Magneto's softened gaze with his own suspicious blue eyes. "Why?"

"Because they trust you." Their foreheads touch, and Charles' breath catches slightly. "It is not misplaced."

"Thank you," Charles whispers, his heart pounding.

Magneto grins. "You're welcome," he replies. The kiss he presses to the other man's mouth is chaste, but Charles moans softly anyways, hands coming up to cup the sides of Magneto's face. Magneto tugs him closer, strong arms wrapped around Charles' back, tilting his head to deepen the mingling of their mouths. When the latest kiss finally breaks, both men are panting.

"Shouldn't do this," Charles gets out, but he licks his lips absently. "Sinister could be watching."

Magneto outright laughs. "Let him see. I'm sure we're only feeding into his goal to have us breed the next generation of his super-mutants."

"You heard him talking to Cyclops and Jean Gray," Charles groans, but his face belies his amusement. He brushes a lock of silver hair out of Magneto's face. "It's rather disturbing, to say the least."

Magneto smirks. "I don't know, Charles. We would make some charming offspring. It'd have my cape ... your eyes ..."

"The ability to move metal with other people's minds." In spite of himself, Charles is laughing now, too. "We would argue over whether or not to let it date before it's sixteen."

"You would permit it to court a particularly permissive human, and I would drop subtle hints that it can't go wrong with a nice mutant."

"You would give it the sex talk."

Magneto sobers. "You are the one raising a house full of teenagers. I believe the sex talk is more up your alley."

Charles shakes his head. "I merely throw a book of diagrams at them and make sure none of the doorknobs are loose and that they all have working locks. I believe there is room for improvement."

"In that case," Magneto says with a smile, "We'll give the sex talk together."

"Deal," Charles laughs softly. Magneto kisses him again, and he wraps his limbs around the other man and sighs against his mouth.


From the control panel in the main chamber of the Citadel, Sinister peers at the small screen pointing at Scott and Jean's cell. Scott sits against a wall, arms crossed, head down, looking contemplative. Jean, meanwhile, paces back and forth several feet away. "How cruel of us to snatch them before they had time to consummate their fake marriage," Sinister murmurs to himself, and then shifts his gaze. The scene in the next monitor surprises him at first, and then he smiles widely in delight. "Fascinating," he hisses. "So much raw potential, even with their powers diminished. Perfection."

"Master, there's a disturbance outside." Amphibious' presence is not wanted, nor is his news. Angrily, Sinister turns away from the monitor, eyes flashing.

"See what it is," he grounds out, and Amphibious nods; then his eyes dart skittishly to the same monitor, and his jaw drops. "Should I ... go stop them?" he goggles, and Sinister laughs.

"No," he says simply, looking back in time to watch Magneto pin Charles Xavier underneath him, the bald man's head pillowed against one large, gloved palm. He watches, transfixed, as Charles tugs Magneto down by the shoulders, their faces close, before their lips meet in a searing kiss. "No," Sinister says again, sounding pleased with himself. "Let them be."

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