Don't Let Your Son Go Down On Me

BY : Citizenjess
Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Slash - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 1689
Disclaimer: I do not own "X-Men: Evolution" or the characters therein. I do not make money from this work of fiction.

If there's one thing Charles can say for life as the head of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, it's that he's rarely bored. It's the sentiment that strikes him when Pietro Maximoff barrels into his office one late afternoon, all frenetic energy and youthful gall.

Though he knows his students draw quite significant lines in the sand between their 'side' and that of the Brotherhood of Mutants, Charles tries to remain open-minded, given the whims of teenagers and the nature of personal choice. Ergo, though he could fault Pietro for not necessarily belonging here, compassion and curiosity get the better of him. "Pietro," he acknowledges, wheeling himself into his office and shutting the door behind him. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The boy brushes his mop of soft-looking hair from his eyes and bounces a little in his seat. "Good afternoon, Professor," he replies, sounding out his vowels with intentional slowness, his mouth arranged into a crooked grin that reminds Charles quite handily of Magneto. "I just ... wanted to come by and talk to you. 'Cause I knew you'd understand."

"I see." Charles steeples his hands and peers at the boy, who stands and begins to pace nervously. "Is it something serious, then?" he asks, not wanting to invade the lad's privacy by gleaning the information from his mind.

"Yes. No. Kinda," Pietro decides. He walks in his own tracks back and forth three times before settling back down in his chair. "So okay," he says, and then he's silent for several more seconds. Charles waits patiently until, finally, Pietro blurts, "so I think I'm gay."

Charles blinks. "Oh," he says, and considers briefly before hurrying to inform, to assure, to comfort. "Well, it's fairly normal, of course, Pietro. Some studies say one in ten -"

"Are you gay, Professor?"

Charles blanches. "Pardon?" he asks a bit stupidly, and now Pietro is smirking again.

"Are you gay? 'S why I came to you about this," Pietro admits. "I know that like, you and my dad ... you know."

Charles coughs, trying to save face. "My relationship with your father is quite ... complicated, Pietro. I'm not sure I would, er, classify myself as 'gay,' so much as ... well, he's pretty much my only -"

"You sleep with him. You're both guys. That's pretty gay to me." Pietro's face is smug, and Charles decides that he must take control of this conversation sooner rather than later.

"I'm not sure that this is an appropriate thing for us to be talking about," he says firmly. "Now, I can give you some resources if you'd like, but this subject matter is closed, Pietro, all right?"

Pietro is silent for a few seconds. Then, as if pulling a trick from his sleeve, he stares at Charles pointedly. "I've seen you, you know. With my dad. He's got cameras like, everywhere. 's why I think I'm gay, 'cause I could see like, liking that kind of thing."

Charles sighs and pinches the space between his brows between thumb and forefinger. Obviously, having a talk with Magneto about privacy later would be in order. "Pietro, I'm sorry that you've seen something like this," he begins. "But I really don't think that -"

"You don't have to be sorry," Pietro says, licking his lips. He advances a little, and Charles' fingers grip his chair instinctively. Briefly, Pietro glances down at his twitching hand. "Don't be afraid, Professor. I'm not here to hurt you."

Charles raises an eyebrow warily. "Why, exactly, are you here, Pietro?" he says, having grown tired of the imbalance in his interactions with Magneto's son; and oh, there's no way he could be anything but, not with the way his icy eyes narrow into familiar, triumphant slivers.

"I want you ... to fuck me, Professor." Pietro's gaze sweeps over Charles, mentally undressing him, and Charles' throat tightens. "I want you to be my first," Pietro continues, and Charles sighs.

"As you've said yourself, I'm your father's age. Not only would it be illegal," Charles stresses gently, "but I'm sure it would be dastardly unhealthy for you." He watches Pietro, who is worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "Pietro, you will have lots of experiences, both sexual and otherwise, as you explore this new part of yourself. You don't need to resort to ... this."

Pietro's fingers flex. "I've thought about this a lot ... Charles," he says, and then, when Charles shakes his head, rephrases: "Professor. I know I want it to be you."


Pietro considers this. "You're ... gentle. Kind. I know you won't hurt me. And I know you'll be thinking of him the whole time." The boy grins wickedly, and Charles groans because, of course, he is absolutely right.

Victoriously, Pietro moves closer, until his hands rest on the arms of Charles' wheelchair. "Pietro, this, you need to stop this," Charles tells him softly. "You need to stop before something happens that we'll both regret."

"I won't regret it," Pietro tells him stubbornly, and then he closes the gap between their mouths, pressing his lips to Charles'. They're a bit chapped, and Charles notices how Pietro squeezes his eyes shut. "Wow, the boy murmurs when the kiss breaks; and then, before Charles can stop him, he grips the professor by the shoulders and tugs Charles to him again. This time, his mouth is eager, the kiss rushed and frantic; Charles can feel Pietro's excitement growing, but he gasps and tugs the boy's face away when he feels Pietro's tongue seeking entrance between his teeth. "What?" Pietro asks petulantly, breathing hard.

Charles sighs. Pietro's face is flushed, his mouth slightly swollen, and Charles tries to ignore how just like his father he is. "Pietro, please," Charles tries again. He moves to take hold of Pietro's shoulders, to shift him away at a safer distance, but only succeeds in the boy pressing himself closer, fairly toppling into his lap. Pietro plants a quick kiss along his jaw, and Charles groans, and then again as he feels the youth's warm weight pressing against his groin. "P-Pietro ..."

"Hey, d'you like to have your dick sucked?" Charles just gapes at him, and Pietro laughs, and then starts sliding onto his knees. "What kind of question is that, right?" he chortles, and Charles squirms in his seat. Dazed, he watches Pietro unzip his pants, and here, recognizes a fundamental difference between Magneto and his son, in that Charles' metal zipper would be but a toy for Magneto. On the contrary, Pietro fumbles with it a bit, but eventually tugs Charles' cock free. The boy hovers over his lap, but his eyes are on the older man's face, his expression challenging. Then he bends his head, and Charles could tug it back up, could reach briefly into Pietro's mind and force him to stop, but instead, his fingers simply tighten along the armrests of his chair. Then Pietro mouths his dick briefly, and Charles' head falls back.


The boy is smiling as his lips slide up and along Charles' cock, lapping experimentally. One hand comes up to grip at the base, and Charles bites his lip to keep from outright moaning when he feels Pietro's hot, wet mouth surround the head. He doesn't quite succeed, however, and he hears Pietro hum a little, apparently pleased by Charles' reaction. "S-stop," Charles manages after some time, and Pietro reluctantly lets up, albeit still hung over Charles' lap.

"Will you fuck me now, Professor?" the boy asks, and Charles sighs and nods. Eagerly, Pietro uses the wheelchair briefly as leverage to pull himself into a standing position. He strips his clothing off, boots and then his jump suit, and finally, his boxers, and his body looks toned and pale and - 'God,' Charles thinks, ashamed to be enjoying this - utterly virginal. The boy makes to immediately straddle Charles' lap, but the older man holds out a hand, stopping him. "You said ..." Pietro begins, but Charles points towards his desk drawer.

"Vaseline. This is non-negotiable, Pietro," he says firmly when the boy starts to protest. "I refuse to hurt you, and I will without it. Also, grab me a condom, please." Reluctantly, Pietro hurries - quite quickly, given his mutation - towards the desk and grabs up the tell-tale container, as well as a thin, square-shaped package. He begins to unscrew the cap, holding it out of Charles' reach. "Are you going to ..." Charles begins, but Pietro is already scooping some of the thick concoction onto his fingers.

His hand disappears, and though Charles can't see precisely what it's doing, he watches the boy's face reflect how it must feel for him to be opened up. "Oh, f-fuck ..." Pietro gasps. His lips look wet, his eyelashes flutter, and Charles continues to watch, transfixed, as he fucks himself a little on his fingers. "Good," Charles tells him finally when Pietro's surface thoughts are more pleasure than pain. He reaches out and plucks the condom from the boy, unwrapping it and rolling it onto himself without fanfare. "Well, then, come here," he beckons at last.

Grinning, Pietro does, drawing closer and then gingerly straddling Charles' lap. His thighs are spread widely, bent at the knees, and his legs shake a little from the strain of holding himself upright, off of Charles' erect cock. "Now, slowly, lower yourself. Slowly, Pietro," Charles tells him, and his hands come out almost of their own accord, running soothing fingers up the boy's sides. One hand flattens, palm to flesh, against Pietro's lower back, and Pietro moans wordlessly and nods and begins to impale himself on the older man's dick. "Oh, Professor, oh, God, oh," Pietro moans, and he continues to sit with painstaking slowness until he's taken all of Charles inside of himself. "God," he gasps, his chest heaving, and Charles rubs soothing patterns into the boy's flesh with the pads of his fingers.

"Now, don't rush this," Charles tells him, his voice slightly strained, unable to pretend that he isn't getting pleasure from this, too. He steadies Pietro in his grip as the boy rises up and then shoves himself down on Charles' cock again, thrusting deeper this time. He does this again and again, and Pietro gasps. His mouth hangs open and his hair bounces with each movement; his skin is warm beneath Charles' hands, and when he leans in and clamors for a messy, open-mouthed kiss, Charles allows it only somewhat reluctantly. Then he feels Pietro mouth something against his lips, and pulls back slightly. "What was that?"

"I, I want you to ... touch me," Pietro moans. Charles looks down at the boy's erection, the head of his dick dribbling pre-come, and acquiesces, wrapping one palm around the hardness. "Aaahh, yesss," Pietro gasps. "God, Professor ..."

"Ssshh, it's okay," Charles tells him, because this is still rather awkward for him. He begins to speed up his ministrations, hoping that it will take away some of this pre-pillow talk. Sure enough, Pietro quickly resorts to wordless whimpering and rutting, and Charles allows himself a smile and continues to jerk him off. Pietro comes quickly, far before Charles has even gotten close, arching his back and letting out a yell that Charles is going to have to make sure that none of his students hear, or at least he'll need to figure out an explanation that doesn't include, "I fucked Magneto's son today."

Pietro's eyes are bright as his orgasm peters off, and he licks his lips absently. "Was that ... good?" he asks worriedly, frowning a bit. "Was it too fast?"

Charles chuckles outright. "Oh, the indomitable spirit of youth," he murmurs; then, seeing that Pietro is still looking for a legitimate answer to put his mind at ease, adds, "You were just fine, Pietro."

Pietro looks relieved. He glances down at his lap, and bucks his hips a little. "Wanna make you finish, too," he implores. Before Charles can think of a suitable excuse, the boy begins to move again, more frantically, squeezing his muscles around Charles' dick, creating a delicious friction. Persistently, Pietro leans forward, wrapping his arms around Charles' neck and mouthing along his neck and throat before suckling the older man's tongue into his mouth forcefully. It's easy enough now to want this, and Charles allows himself to indulge, feeling the delicious build-up of his own somewhat rare orgasm. At long last, he comes with a low groan, and Pietro kisses his temple and then smiles against his forehead.

"Good job, Professor," he murmurs, a bit fuzzily, a bit too sated and familiar, but Charles allows it for now. The boy pulls away enough for their eyes to meet briefly. "You get an A-plus."


He fires Cerebro up, the tell-tale thrust into the vacuum of mutantkind's collective consciousness familiar to him, now. Carefully, Charles searches around, his movements purposeful, and lets out a tiny moue of satisfaction as he finds his intended target.

"I think you need to find a more secure place for your security tapes than their current location," he says by way of greeting. In his mind, Magneto's presence is as familiar as breathing.

Charles can feel his amusement through their mental bond. "Oh?" Magneto queries, and Charles can practically see him smirking. "And why is that?"

Charles' eyes narrow. "Your son found them. They seemed to give him some ideas."

"Well." Magneto sounds infuriatingly smug, and Charles rolls his eyes. "Show me," he requests, and Charles does. "Lucky boy," his oldest friend says a moment later, and now his voice seems to be tinged with lust. "I'm jealous," he continues, the tone low and teasing.

"Yes, well. Pietro would benefit from some similarly oriented friends his own age, I believe. Also, for his father not to leave his sex tape collection in plain sight."

"Pietro's a precocious lad, Charles, what can I say." Magneto's tone is breezy, but he acquiesces when Charles clucks his tongue. "I'll talk to him."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. And now that your moral quandary has been squelched," Magneto adds, and then trails off purposefully.

Charles sighs. "Yes?"

Magneto laughs smugly. "Show me again, Charles"; and Charles does.

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