A Harmless Game of Dress-Up

BY : Citizenjess
Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Slash - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 1012
Disclaimer: I do not own "X-Men" or any of the characters therein. I am not making any money off of this story.

The hand clamping tightly over his mouth is large, and smells vaguely like plastic. He can spot a trace of purple if he really strains to see the tip of one of Magneto's fingers, but then the index finger moves to curl over his nostrils, cutting off his air supply, and he whimpers. "Hmmmph," he bites out, knowing full well how much the other man enjoys the sounds of his struggling.

Sure enough, Magneto's lips brush his ear, his mouth curved in smug satisfaction. "Ssshh, Charles," Magneto murmurs. He releases Charles' nose, but leaves his hand over the bottom half of the professor's face. "The more you thrash about, the harder you're going to make this on yourself." Then he lets Charles go and strides in front of his wheelchair, rising to full, glorious height.

"Magneto!" Charles does his best to sound and look outraged. He blinks wide, faux-furious eyes up at his arch-enemy, and delights in the pleased gurgle that this brings forth from Magneto's throat. "How dare you come here," Charles continues, pointing his finger in mock-outrage. In response, Magneto smiles evilly. "I demand to know what sort of twisted scheme you've come here to try and pull off today," he hisses, and Magneto snorts. Then he leans down, placing both hands on the armrests of the chair, bringing their faces close.

"That's for me to know, my dear professor," he retorts softly, and Charles feels his heart race. In truth, he has to bite his lip a little to keep from laughing, and can feel the amusement bubbling in the back of the other man's (albeit helmeted; the replica had been Magneto's idea - Charles hadn't been sold on the idea initially, but now he was pretty sure it was contributing to the tightening of his pants, and Magneto's as well, if the slow tenting of fabric at his crotch had anything to say about it) head. When Magneto's hand shoots out to grip at Charles' chin, Charles grits his teeth, making a good show out of hating this, when really, he can literally feel his dick getting harder. Magneto's pupils, too, are dilating now. He licks his lips. "You can try to fight me if you wish," he smiles, and Charles grunts. "Your X-Men will never get here in time to save you."

Charles moans. "What are you going to do to me?" he asks piteously, and he can hear Magneto swear in his head as he regards Charles' dinner plate-sized eyes with overt frustration. 'This is going to be over in two seconds if you keep acting like you're servicing someone in a brothel, Charles,' he complains, and Charles offers a flippant, mental 'I'm so sorry' in return, but does not particularly tone it down either way. "My X-Men will indeed stop you," he frowns pompously. "You just wait and see."

"I'll do that," Magneto promises, and then he shoves their faces together, sealing his mouth over Charles', keeping his fingers pressed to the bottom of the other man's face so that he cannot resist, cannot pull away. Panting, Charles tries to remain a passive participant for as long as he can, but the force of his attraction to Magneto is too much - 'it must be your magnetic personality,' he smarms in his mind, and then snickers when he hears Magneto's mental growl ('stop it, Charles!') - and soon he's giving back as good as he gets, though he allows Magneto to control the pressure and ferocity of their make-out session.

Finally, Magneto pulls away, and then runs a finger over Charles' swollen, red mouth. His sudden pushing of one digit between Charles' lips surprises him a bit, but he gets the point easily enough: "Suck," Magneto orders him softly, and Charles does. It's not the most pleasant taste - clean, perhaps, but a bit sterile - but Charles keeps his eyes open and his gaze on Magneto, who is watching him with equal fervor. He blinks when Charles reaches out to grasp at his gloved palm with both of his own hands, and then even gasps a little as Charles begins to suck on two of his fingers at once. "Good lord," he frowns, and Charles smiles smugly around his mouthful.

"Enough of this," Magneto says eventually, but Charles feels himself being lifted out of the wheelchair with the metal filaments on his body (privately, he'd made a point to wear extra bits of jewelry just for such an occasion: A ring, a thin necklace, his chunky watch band), and knows that this is hardly, in fact, over yet. Sure enough, Magneto floats him a ways away before setting him on the floor, reclining him in a strategic sprawling of limbs that allows him to remain upright, albeit still not able to feel the slight pressure being placed on his numb legs. He watches through heavily lidded eyes as Magneto floats scant inches off of the floor in front of him, frowning down at him with a mixture of lust and appreciation on his face.

"Now, my dear Charles," Magneto rasps, and Charles bites back another grin, albeit almost unsuccessfully, this time. "Since your X-Men" - he adds a well-placed sneer, here, and almost has to grouse at Charles for rolling his eyes, but Charles quickly adds 'okay, okay, I'm being serious, go on,' so he leaves it be and continues - "have failed to rescue you in a timely fashion, I believe you have no choice but to do my bidding." He begins to palm his own crotch, feeling Charles' rapt gaze on his dexterous fingers. "It would behoove you to be a cooperative captive, Professor."

"I refuse," Charles huffs, but his hands are already moving up to fondle at the bulge in Magneto's groin a little, somewhat of the other man's accord, but mostly of his own volition. He hears Magneto suck in air and smirks, and then tugs the other man's cock and balls from their fabric prison completely. Dropping soundlessly to stand on his own two feet, the Master of Magnetism reaches out to cradle Charles' head, lightly petting his jaw line. "Go on," he urges softly, and Charles' eyes flash, but he allows Magneto to press his head forward slightly, and then opens his mouth to engulf the other man's hard cock.

"Yes," Magneto grunts, and Charles tilts his head, sliding his lips further up the length and then back down again, letting Magneto's dick fall out of the side of his mouth with a wet 'pop' sound. Groaning, Magneto grips the base and then angles it back in again, and Charles sucks at it balefully, closing his eyes, and then opening them again quickly when he hears, "No, let me see." Their gazes meet, and Charles runs his tongue feverishly along Magneto's cockhead, his hands coming up to cup at the other man's balls. Magneto's soft moans convey well his need, and also the fact that he does not shove Charles' hands away. It seems to take, in fact, some sort of Herculean effort to get him to stop at all, but eventually, that is exactly what Magneto does, tugging his penis away, still hard, and frowning down at Charles, nostrils flaring. "I think you enjoy this torment more than you let on, Professor," he says haughtily, and Charles snorts.

"I am merely making the best of a trying situation."

"I'll bet you are," Magneto smirks, and now he's completely back on his game, tucking himself ('momentarily,' he assures Charles with a raised eyebrow) back into his uniform, and then reaching for the other man again, levitating him in the air anew. "Still dreaming about your noble X-Men coming to save the day once again, I suppose," he goads, and Charles frowns, though the effect is somewhat lost, given the incredible vulnerability of his current position.

"They'll come for me," he grunts, and makes a show of wiggling in Magneto's invisible-seeming grasp. "They always do. They'll save me, and then your days are numbered, my friend. You have no chance ..."

"Yes, yes." With that, Magneto plunks him rather dismissively against a wall in his own study, arms stuck out, legs dangling purposefully a few feet off of the ground. 'You even wore the penny loafers,' Magneto thinks idly at him, and Charles snorts.

'Indeed.'

'Well, then.' Out loud, Magneto makes a low, appreciative sound from the back of his throat. "You should see yourself right now, Xavier," he chortles, and of course, Charles can see himself just fine, because Magneto is broadcasting the images he's getting loud and clear through the fake telepathy-blocking headpiece, and they seem specifically designed to keeping Magneto on edge: A hint of tummy peeks out from the bottom of Charles' long-sleeved shirt; his limbs spread widely as he uselessly flexes his fingers; his head lolling back, captured as it is by the thin chain around his neck, tucked underneath his collar, but still visible enough to Magneto. "Delectable," the other man continues, and Charles moans helplessly as he draws closer, floating in mid-air. "You're so vulnerable like this, Charles," Magneto whispers in his ear, his eyes blazing blue fire. "I could do anything I wanted to you, and you wouldn't be able to stop me. In fact," he says, and tweaks Charles infuriatingly on the nose, "I daresay you don't want to stop me."

"Perhaps I'm biding my time," Charles retorts, and he gulps when he feels Magneto's hand sliding up his shirt, over the flat planes of his stomach. He tweaks a nipple with still-gloved fingers, and Charles bites back a gasp. "Perhaps," he says shakily, "I'm just letting you think you have the upper hand."

"Perhaps," Magneto agrees good-naturedly, but then he pinches the nipple he's ministrated into a hardened nub by now, and Charles keens. "Or perhaps you want this just as badly as I do," he bites out, and Charles whimpers and pushes his chest out a little, instinctively seeking more from Magneto.

"Perhaps," he concedes, and then Magneto is upon him, clutching him bodily between himself and the wall, sliding his hands up Charles' shirt and down into his pants, fisting his cock briefly and then pulling away when Charles starts to pant. "Ah ah," he tsks, and Charles glares. In response, Magneto kisses him soundly, biting his lower lip when he sees Charles start to pout. "The X-Men can't save you this time, Charles Xavier," he whispers hotly against the other man's mouth. He fumbles Charles' pants and underwear down, and wraps his fingers around the professor's swollen cock, jerking him off a little. "Admit it, now: You are mine."

"I'm ... yours," Charles shivers, and Magneto mouths down his neck, biting hard enough to leave a bruise. He then latches onto the same area and suckles, until Charles realizes what he's doing, squawks, and bats him away with just a bit of mental persuasion. "We agreed, no hickeys," he grouses, and Magneto chuckles.

"There's a reason you wear turtlenecks," he returns smoothly, but he acquiesces, his point already well made, and refocuses his attention on Charles' nether regions. "Charles, I want to fuck you," he tells the other man matter-of-factly. "You're going to let me do that, aren't you, now?"

"Y-yes," Charles gets out. He lets Magneto kiss him again, even returning the effort fervently, and then Magneto is pulling away and gesturing behind him, and Charles knows without even needing to see the small foil wrapper and the squat tube of lubricant what he's just reached for, and the knowledge excites him.

Soon enough, Magneto is slicked up and pushing slowly, achingly slowly inside of him, and the pressure, coupled with the mental sensations that Magneto is sending to him are intense. "P-please, let me be ... close to you ..." Charles grunts, and Magneto frees his hands, allowing Charles to cling tightly to his shoulders as he rides his cock. "Magneto," Charles chokes out, and Magneto thrusts their mouths together, simultaneously reaching between them to finger Charles' dick again.

"Mine, Charles, you're mine," he growls possessively after another heady kiss, and it's not roleplaying anymore as he thumbs furiously at the professor's cock until it spurts and then gradually goes limp. (He does, however, hold a certain perverse pride over Charles in that this is the only time that he's broken character; the same cannot be said for the other man.) He comes shortly after that, thrusting deep into Charles' backside, his orgasm roaring to a crescendo and then petering off again into a series of soft whispers and curling fingers and loving caresses and smiles. "Mine," he murmurs again near Charles' face, and Charles beams up at him with huge, shining eyes, the love on his face completely real, not in the least bit fabricated.

"Yours."


You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story