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Between Rage and Serenity	By : BlueBastard Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > Slash - Male/Male > Charles/Erik Views: 3251 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor profit from X-men First Class in the making of this fanfic

Chapter List
- 1-Between Rage and Serenity
- 1
Title: Between Rage and Serenity

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor profit from X-men First Class in the making of this fanfic.

Summary: The usual argument treads down unfamiliar paths. The safe road may no longer be an option, as a determined Erik convinces a wary Charles. Erik/Charles M/M SLASH

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"You can't change me, Charles." Erik stated, hands clasped behind him as he stared out the Xavier mansion window. It was an old, fruitless argument. And the Jewish mutant grew weary of it.

He tried to turn his attention to the world beyond the glass.

The world that should be theirs. Not in the hands of the primitive humans. If only Charles could acknowledge this simple fact of evolution. Mutants were the new breed. The new race at the top of the food chain.

The humans faced their own extinction.

"You mistake my motives, Erik. It was never my intention to change you. Your past, no matter how pained or traumatic, has shaped who you are today." Charles spoke in the way only Charles could. Wise and moving that defied his youthful years, "It shapes your thoughts, your reasoning, as well as your reaction to any given situation. To change you I would have to change your true self. You would not be the young man standing before me today. And that would just not do."

Erik turned to the auburn haired man with a tilted smirk. Riddles. Always riddles with this one.

He faked exasperation as he demanded, "Can I never get a straight answer from you, Charles?"

The twinkle sparked in those blue eyes -unspoken laughter- as Xavier commented, "Perhaps if you asked the right questions, Erik."

"And those would be...?" Erik prompted, impatient as ever, though he couldn't help the upward curl of a lip as he did so. This was a side of himself he never knew existed. It was always hidden guards, clever cunning, and deadly manipulation. And anger. So much pained anger. Not this... this strange playfulness deep inside.

Charles always brought out the best in him.

Like those cherished memories of his mother he had thought lost forever so long ago.

"Aw Erik, you'll spoil the fun if you inquire such blunt questions." The blue-eyed telepath smirked, turning back to the window that spanned the entire wall, "Besides, the man who seeks answers ultimately finds himself faced with more questions."

He never did truly believe Erik would figure it out. Their friendship was just too... platonic. He desired from Erik what Raven -who was lucky enough to be stuck in the puberty stage twice as long as the average teenager- used to desire from Charles himself.

And for all his brains and telepathic abilities, Charles couldn't figure the dark-haired man out.

Or rather, he was too afraid to reach further within the depths of Erik's mind, should he find a hopeless answer to his aching question. When he had been younger, it had been child's play to delve into the deep dark crevices of a person's mind. But Xavier had been born with ten times the intellect and morals of an aged Buddhist monk. He knew it was wrong since the age of two. And had therefore never strayed too far past the surface thoughts of those around him. Of course he had to build up an immunity to thoughts projected loud enough to mimic a foghorn amplified by a thousand, but it took practice. And now and then those thoughts still slipped through the cracks.

But there was more to it than simple morals.

More than respect for the individual alone.

Could Erik love him... truly love him... in that way?

Or was this closeness mere bonds of brotherhood? One lonely, desperate soul seeking another? Sure, Charles was always the one rescuing and sheltering others. Raven, his now adopted little sister, being a prime example.

But in this single instance, with the metallic fire that was purely Erik, he felt as if it was HE that had been rescued.

He didn't expect, however, for Erik's fuse to be so short today.

It all happened so suddenly.

Breathless, Charles found himself pinned by the sharply dressed Erik Lansherr. Erik's hard lines pressed against his front, as the solid mahogany wall pressed at his back. A surge of heat shot straight to the telepath's core, adding another tally to his list of guilty pleasures concerning a certain metal-manipulator. He bit his lip to stop the needy little moan that had wanted to slip out. His guard always slipped around the other. His control frayed.

It was quite... infuriarating.

The telepath had respected the boundaries of Erik's mind since that day on the beach. It wasn't because of the near paralysis of his legs, the bullet grazing just a centimeter to the side of his spine, but the mere fact that he had tried to stay distant.

Erik Lansherr was a dynamite ready to explode. He did not want to experience the pain he had that day ever again.

He might have seen this move otherwise, and stepped aside to avoid it.

Contact with the darker haired man was too... perilous.

"You test my patience in so many ways, Charles. Enough of this dance. What is it you're keeping from me?" Erik would never hurt him. Ever since that fateful night in the water, Charles had been saving Erik. Saving his life.

His very soul.

There was no question about it.

Charles Xavier was the only mutant, no the only living person in the entire world, that made Erik feel like he was cared for.

That there was more to being alive than just anger and vengeance. That there was a place between rage and serenity, that would make him better. Stronger. Whole again.

The only one that made Erik laugh.

And he would go through the Nazi hell again and back before he'd allow Charles to get away. Even if the distance was solely mental rather than physical. The metal-manipulator raked his piercing gaze over the smooth lined of Xavier's face. Innocent blue eyes, weathered and sullied by dark thoughts of killers and murderers alike, still managed to maintain it's aura of innocence.

A purity that was simply... Charles.

On the receiving end of that soul-searching gaze, the telepath shifted nervously.

Charles, for the first time, squirmed in Erik's presence.

Erik was taken aback. Not to mention secretly pleased.

Charles Xavier was actually... unsure. And that was almost as deliciously tantalizing, as the way the younger held his own bottom lip prisoner by a flash of those delicate white teeth. It wasn't often that Erik felt himself ahead of the other. Psychic abilities be damned. And like he'll he would waste such a perfect opportunity to gloat about it.

"You *are* hiding something from me..." Erik frowned, suspicions confirmed.

"It is nothing, Erik." Charles evaded, blue eyes drifting to the side.

Feeling the tendrils of the telepath's mind, perhaps Charles's persuasion activated subconsciously in his own defense -for Erik knew he would never do it purposefully on him- Erik smirked, "That won't work on me, Charles. Never has, never will."

Sheepish, Charles withdrew his mind, apologetic, "Sorry. Habit. You have a strong mind, my friend."

Charles fidgeted under that intense gaze. He had thought himself immune, but apparently Erik had never used it on him before. At least, not in full.

Charles daren't breath.

Each inhale would draw in the masculine scent of metal and warmth that was Erik. Each exhale pressing his pinned body more against the hardened steel of Lansherr's unmoving body. It was more than enough to make the telepath's breath hitch, his mind on overdrive to keep a certain part of his heated anatomy down. There was no doubt, at such close proximity, he would be discovered.

When the uncomfortable silence continued, Charles cleared his throat, "You can release me now, Erik, and we can talk."

Observing the nervousness on his friend's countenance, Erik merely smirked, "No. I don't think I will, Charles."

Now Erik was a smart man. Through sheer will and determination he had become a mad genius and a challenging strategist to even the telepath's skill. So when Charles's face began the flush at this simple bodily contact, and Erik's own refusal to let go, well...

The equation practically solved itself.

But Erik just couldn't believe...

Could it truly be that...

But from Charles, of all people? No. Erik's mind just couldn't grasp the concept.

The one thing that he desired more in the world, the one thing he had believed utterly unattainable...

He needed to hear it.

Needed to hear the words.

"What's the matter, Charles?" Erik grinned devilishly, covering up his rising hope with suave charm. Something he never thought to use on the younger man before. Something he never *dared* use before.

To his utter amazement, and inner carnal pleasure, he saw Xavier's cheeks flush a pleasant shade of red. Just slightly. But it was there.

Charles was just as stunned.

He had watched from the sidelines, as Erik easily picked up girls from the bars. Even better than Charles himself. And that was saying something. But that had just been it.

Just girls.

And while Charles had eased off bedding random strangers -of both sorts, women and men- since he met Erik, it seemed the other was nigh insatiable. A different girl every night. Actually, now it numbered more girls than there were nights in a week at times.

He had never dreamed...

All right. That was a complete falsehood.

Almost every night he did.

For that reason alone he only had his hand as solace for the times the need grew unbearable.

"You understand I can make you let go of me, if I so choose." Charles smirked, attempting to grasp at any straws in his ever-sinking predicament.

Erik was not fooled.

"I know you can *try*, Charles..." Erik's chuckle was a sinful baritone, plucking easily at the tendrils of Xavier's normally steady resolve. Charles couldn't help the shiver of arousal that spiked through him. Not with how close their bodies were. Not with the way Erik's voice had dropped an octave, simply saying his name. Like a velvet caress. As dangerous as the apple that had tempted Eve.

He knew. Charles felt his throat constrict.

Erik *knew*.

The look in his stormy grey eyes told all.

And for the life of him, Charles couldn't decide whether this was for good or ill.

In a move that surprised them both, Charles suddenly shoved the taller man away. For good measure, he had even taken a few steps from both Erik and the wall. It lacked Charles' calm, controlled finesse, but it got the job done.

He had heard her the essence of her thoughts before a knock sounded at the closed doors.

Erik's look of irritated surprise would have to wait as Charles turned towards the doors, the heavy oak creaking open as a blue head poked through, the other becoming more comfortable in her natural beauty.

"Dinner time, you two geezers." Mystique said simply, before disappearing as gracefully as she had come. Her voice echoed her innocently oblivious footsteps, "Don't keep us waiting. I am *not* warming up leftovers because you two decided to make out instead of joining us."

Her joking hit closer to home than she could ever realize.

The energy in the room had not dispersed at her interruption. Rather, it crackled and fizzed like a live thing, becoming more tense and coiled in the following silence.

Not knowing what to say, Charles chose his most ideal option.

Retreat.

Without a glance back, he started heading towards the door, "Well, you heard Raven. I, for one, do not enjoy a cold plate in my pallet." His attempt at light humor, he feared, was as weak and see-through as his shaken resolve. His resolve to tread the safe path. To stick to the relative safety of their friendship, rather than delve deeper into the unknown, with the unpredictable -yet undeniably desirable- silent figure behind him.

"Charles." That voice, laced with deep velvet promises, stopped him in his tracks. Erik had a way with words. He had a way of making lesser men quiver. Shake in their boots. Charles was none of that. Though he had to admit, the insufferable man was quite intimidating at times. And that tone did... strange things when Charles heard it. Erik sounded frustratingly incredulous as he stated, "You can't just will this away, Charles."

Charles couldn't stay. Couldn't face the rugged man on even ground. Not right now. He feared this would break him.

So he continued walking, stating with feigned nonchalance, "Will what away, Lansherr? I doubt you even know what *this* is, exactly." But that blue eyed gaze was directed pointedly in front of him, not daring to look back.

Erik frowned at the other's cowardice. Charles was not a weak individual. He was, in fact, the strongest and brightest the metal-manipulator had ever come across.

It could only mean one thing.

Charles Xavier, the very man he owed his life to, was scared.

But of what?

Abandoning his statuesque post against the wall, meaningless now without the other to preoccupy himself with, Erik strolled with precisely measured control. Though every fiber of his being was coiled and ready to ravish the younger man to the ground. He had waited a few years. What was a couple more days?

He smirked.

So Charles wanted to play? He would soon learn, as he had the first time they played chess, that Erik Lansherr was not an opponent to be taken lightly.
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Between Rage and Serenity