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Visions	By : MutantPoptart Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > Slash - Male/Male > Charles/Erik Views: 2226 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Visions

The days Charles spent with Erik were not difficult, mostly: It wasn’t the numerous matches of chess that they often played to pass the time; It wasn’t the conversations out on the grounds, in which Erik would confide in Charles his fears and aspirations without Charles even having to prod him or read his thoughts (which Erik hated), and Charles would share his own dreams and fears in return; It wasn’t the friction when the discussion inevitably turned to the future of mutants and their projected role in society and when neither of them would be swayed from each their separate ideals( though that was certainly a downside of hanging around Erik); No, most of the time, Charles very much enjoyed being around Erik. He felt more awake, more open, more challenged, and more important when he was around the other mutant that anytime he could recall. What bothered Charles the most, what planted the seeds of dread deep in his stomach and sent the hairs on the back of his neck erect, were the silences.
Deep blue eyes, the color of a clear day, were locked in the stare of icy blue ones, the color of glaciers.
“Erik.” Charles began. The pause had already expanded to an uncomfortable length and the Oxford graduate quickly scanned for a topic to end it.
“Mm,” Erik moaned more than answered. His eyes did not leave his companion and Charles felt the dread sprouting in his stomach.
Charles opened his mouth and nothing came out. He had come to recognize the look currently on his companion’s face as a taunt.
Erik sat relaxed, taking up the couch for himself across from Charles, in the arm chair. His legs slightly parted and a too-calm look on his face to counter Charles’ own look of concentrated composure. Charles knew what was happening.
Erik wanted him to look into his head.
Charles knew better. He wasn’t going to do it.

The first time it happened, it had been an accident. It was warm and they all went for a swim in the grounds lake. Reclining on the dock, Erik had succumbed to an odd quietness that Charles wasn’t used to. The telepath did not quickly resort to prying in his friend’s head anymore, as he knew how much Erik resented it. Also, as the two grew closer, Charles found he no longer needed to pry. Erik would tell him anything he wanted to know. That day, however, and it seemed to have been happening more frequently lately, Erik would not talk to him. Charles didn’t see the harm in taking one little look. It began as a joke. With a mischievous grin, Charles extended his mental reach and took a look into the head of the man whose eyes would not meet his own. It could not have been more than a second, but the flashes of images he saw, vivid and sometimes violent, were enough to break the connection off as quickly as he’d found it. When Charles came to, eyes fluttering open, he was looking into the icy, unblinking eyes of his friend. The stunned look on Erik’s face said that he knew what Charles had done. There was embarrassment, shock, betrayal. Mostly shame. Neither of them were breathing.
After that day, nothing was mentioned. Neither of them spoke of what Charles had seen in Erik’s head. They carried on as they normally did, walking the grounds, playing chess and mentoring the children. Perhaps it was the fact that Charles hadn’t said anything. Perhaps Erik wanted him to address it, to acknowledge in some way that it happened. Whatever the reason, soon after The Lake Incident, the silences started coming on. But this time, Erik seemed to be perpetuating them. He didn't avoid Charles or even seem distant anymore. He looked the biophysics graduate dead in the eye, as if daring him. What could he do? Charles, despite himself, took another look into his oddly-behaving friend’s head, partly out of disbelief that he’d really seen what he thought he did at the lake, but mostly out of insurmountable curiosity. Each time Charles ventured into his friend’s head, he was met with more flashing images, voices, movies playing out. Each venture was more explicit and grotesque than the last. Charles regretted looking every time but he couldn’t help it. The inexplicable silences grew more frequent and Erik seemed to bring them on. His icy eyes watched Charles and waited, counting on the telepath’s inability to ignore someone in need of his psychiatric expertise. And Charles answered.
After each time Charles severed the connection, Erik would always have the strangest look on his face. Gone was the shame he had seen at the lake and in its place was a look that seemed to invite the telepath, taunt him. It was like Erik wanted Charles to see, wanted to get a reaction from the man he’d grown so close to. But Charles could never mention what he saw. It was difficult enough just remembering it. In those situations, the telepath would usually turn away, breath caught in his chest and heart pounding.
What Charles saw in his companion’s mind, in every flashing image, every scene...were various acts of sex. Rapid and lurid and sometimes violent, the visions in Erik’s head were of all levels and gradients of sexaul nature and themes. As explicit and blaring as the acts were, what struck Charles the most was that all the scenes and images involved he and Erik. Together. It was vague at first-- the images flashed so quickly-- but then the pattern was undeniable. There was the young professor in various positions and poses and stages of undress-- sometimes completely bare-- but always wearing a sheen of sweat and a look of abandon as his body writhed and wretched. And there was Erik…

Charles swallowed, throat feeling suddenly dry. The man on the couch across from him shifted slightly. He knew he was watching him as keenly as he always did when the silence came.
Charles no longer wanted to make eye contact with the man for fear that me might accidentally see something in those glacial eyes.
“Charles,” came the smooth, inquiring voice, “Is there something on your mind?”
Charles looked up then. When he met the other man’s eyes, he was hit with a wall of tension. Although the man who commanded metal was a perfect picture of composure and poise there on the couch, Charles could sense a clawing hunger beneath the vacad.
As if the other man’s eyes were luring him in, Charles’ mind began to drift to the other side of the table. Suddenly, flashes of images filled his vision.
Charles was on his knees in front of the couch between Eriks legs while Erik, grunting, firmly gripped the curly-haired head and forced it down onto his thrusting hips, where his exposed cock vanished into Charles’ mouth.
He broke the scene off instantly.
“It’s just,” Charles forced out, blinking hard.
Erik leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking quizzically at Charles as if he were suddenly very interested in what he was saying.
“There’s a fish,” Charles continued, grasping to keep his consciousness from drifting to the beckoning mind on the other side of the coffee table, “in the aquarium. He’s very territorial. We’ll need to get him a separate tank so he doesn’t wear himself out.”
Erik watched him intently.
Charles rose from the leather armchair and moved to stand in the window, “Sean has grown quite concerned with him, you see.” he said absently, sliding his hands into his pockets.
He watched the snow falling outside of the large window. He couldn’t see the ground, it was so lost in the flurry. he could feel the cold through the glass of the window. It cooled his burning face.
“Do you suppose we ought to just release it into the lake?” he asked the man who he knew was now standing behind him.
Erik stepped closer and Charles felt the warmth of the larger figure at his back.
Suddenly, Charles was clutching the window as his mind was accosted with another barrage of images.
Charles was on his back, naked on the desk in the study, legs splayed open and trembling, body covered in a sheen of sweat and he was flushed and weeping. Erik held his thighs apart as his tongue delved deeply into the his depths.
There was hot breath on his neck when Charles regained his composure.
“Erik,” he pleaded, voice quiet but stern. He had never needed to raise his voice to get his point across.
“Charles,” the man behind him growled back.
He was so close. Charles knew he was beginning to sweat visibly. He felt too warm. His thoughts were racing. He had evaded Erik for so long, it seemed, as the dreaded mutant towered over him, that his days of running had come to an end. He would keep his composure if nothing else. He needed to keep control or he would not be able to keep his mind from bending to the dominant presence of the other man. He felt the overbearing will of the man’s mind beckoning him.
“Please, stop this.” He said, voice level.
“Stop me.” Erik replied and his low firm voice was next to Charles’ ear, "I know you can,"
Charles’ evened his breathing.
“Can you stop me without looking in my head?” Erik grazed his lips over the back of Charles neck, “Or are you afraid of what you’ll see?” The simple but intimate nature of the touch threatened to break what control Charles had managed to maintain throughout the conversation.
Charles turned quickly to face the prying man. He felt confined between the window and the firm body blocking him in. He didn’t want to think that Erik might stop him if he tried to move away then, but something in the man’s energy told him he wouldn’t let him go.
Charles no longer had to look into the man’s head to know what he was thinking. The look on his face said it all.
Erik’s heavy-lidded eyes made the metal-manipulator look drunk with wanting as he scanned the boyish face of his young companion.
“That’s not it,” Charles said, trying to sound firm but Erik was so close that Charles was reminded of a cornered fox surrounded by hounds and his voice seemed to shrink.
“No?” Erik, coaxed. His hands rose to rest against the window pane on either side of Charles body, barring the slighter man in.
“No,” Charles said more firmly, now meeting the other man’s eyes, “I don’t want to control you, Erik.”
That was enough for Erik.
“Then look into my mind.” he said, catching Charles off guard, “If you don’t fear what you’ll find.”
The young professor began to shake his head and to decline, wishing he had room to back away, but Erik firmly grabbed his hands and placed them on either side of his own head.
“Look,” he insisted, holding Charles’ hand in place.
“Erik, this--”
“Look.” He said again, and his voice was low and his eyes bore into Charles with all the trust and intimacy they had built together.
Too easily, Charles’ mind drifted to his comrade’s and touched his thoughts. Instantly, a stream of images and scenes began flowing into his own mind:
Charles against the window. Erik holding him up by his thighs as he grinds into him; Charles on the ground with his pants around his ankles and his shirt tugged up and his face burried in his arm to muffle his screams as Erik burrows into him mercilessly; Charles bent over the couch; Charles bent over the desk; Charles trying to read while Erik sucks him relentlessly under the desk between his trembling legs.
The images were not only vivid but they were charged with uninhibited emotion and feeling, and Charles could feel Erik’s hunger and arousal as if they were his own and his body prickled and writhed, longing for the pleasure and touch that the fantasies portrayed. The connection was consuming.
Charles’ breathing began to quicken and Erik could feel his heart racing.
“Don’t stop.” Erik moaned, leaning down to brush his mouth against Charles’ ear and to taste the heat coming off of him..
“Erik,” came Charles’ breathy voice.
His eyelids were fluttering and Erik thought he looked like he was in a trance.
“Do you like it, Charles?” He whispered against the other man’s parted lips.
Charles cheeks were flushed and his skin damp with perspiration.
Erik watched the fluttering eyes and softly panting mouth and slid one hand down from his head to cup the front of Xavier's pants.
At that point, Charles’ eyes opened. Erik froze. Charles watched Erik carefully but, to Erik’s relief, did not break the connection. So, under Charles’ flushed gaze, Erik continued kneading his companion's hardening length, eliciting gasps and soft moans from the plump lips. The metal bender relished the sounds and removed his hand to instead grind his hips into the other. He let his hands explore Charles’s shuddering body, gliding them up his thighs and sides and finally wrapping around the slighter man to pull him close.
Their eyes were locked on each other’s. Their lips met.
Erik kissed Charles and Charles didn’t push him away. Erik felt the other man’s hands release their fixed hold on his head and slide down to gently embrace the taller man’s face as the kiss deepened.
Erik wrapped his arms around Charles as though he were trying to envelope him. They arched and ground into each other for some minutes before the desperation eased and the kiss became more slowed and tender. Charles cradled Erik’s jaw as he gave him one last gentle peck before letting his head fall back against the window and taking a breath.
Erik took in the sight of the frazzled young Oxford grad. Charles’ eyes were glazed and weary, his lips were swollen and a brighter flush than normal. The professor’s eyes were scanning him as well and Erik realized he probably looked very similar.
“I have … a vision as well…” Charles said between pants.
Before Erik could register, his vision was flooded with bright images. He saw a large stone building filled with many young adults carrying backpacks and books.. There were classrooms with strange looking instructors teaching even stranger lessons. He knew at once it was a school for mutants. He saw himself and Charles descending the main steps, laughing and speaking jovially with one another. Above the entrance read the name, “Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr School for Extraordinary People”. He saw board rooms with politicians and what appeared to be the Commander and Chief shaking hands with what Erik knew to be a mutant. Odd looking children held hands and played games with unmutated children. Mutants neighboring normal folk, fully aware and unprejudiced. He saw a world at peace, a world where mutants and non-mutants lived together with neither fear nor war.
The connection faded and Erik opened his eyes. Charles stared back at him, still held up against the window, still panting slightly, his eyes radiating an unmistakable gleam of hope.
Slowly, Erik uncoiled himself from the disheveled telepath. Charles regained his footing but didn’t bother with straightening himself. He watched Erik carefully, concern growing apparent in his brow.
“That is your fantasy, is it?” Erik said soberly, pulling at his sweater and running a hand through his hair.
“It doesn’t have to be a fantasy. It can be very real, Erik.” Charles said evenly, “As real as--”
“As real as mine?” Erik grinned mirthlessly down at his sweater and the telepath realized it sounded like an ultimatum. Maybe it was.
Erik laughed to himself. The world-wise mutant could see Charles’ vision of the world but he did not believe in it. He desired the man in front of him more than he'd ever desired anything but the pretty world in his vision would never be.
“Perhaps,” Erik said, and Charles felt the cold coming throught the glass, “perhaps they are all just fantasies.” he turned and left the study. Charles stared after his friend and remained by the window. After a while, he turned and watched the snow.
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Visions