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Night Ocean	By : RubyLeaves Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1159 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Marvel 'Verse, X-Men First Class, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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TW for this set: (in addition to anything above) forced orgasm, mental bondage, enema (only in the section,denoted with a '*****' in case that's not your thing), nipple-play, slight crying!Erik, passive-aggressive chess.

A/N: It should not have taken me three chapters to get to actual top!Charles. ^_^;;

Night Ocean 8-12/?

by Meredith Bronwen Mallory

(garnettrees)

When he woke again after Charles' little bought of violence, Erik hadn't been quite sure what to expect. He came to the way he had for so much of his life; awake between one moment and the next. Hyper-vigilance, Charles had called it. The telepath quickly learned to call out first, instead of touching. Being securely pinned by a half-sleeping killer had a tendency to do that.

('You can't possibly reach truly deep sleep," Charles says, as they slide into a booth at the dingy all-night truck stop. "Not like that." The waitress brings them atrocious coffee, to which the professor adds copious amounts of cream.

Erik shrugs, "Who needs to? I'll sleep when I'm dead." They aren't sharing a bed yet-- both still caught up in their own uncertainty and cautious shame. They will be soon, though. Erik is watching Charles test the coffee with his pink, agile tongue.

"No rest for the wicked?" his young friend teases, biting said tongue.

"Indeed," says Erik, who is trying to remember that its important to breathe.)

"You got me so hard the first time you pinned me," Charles remarked, voice carrying in fire-warmed silence. "You were so quick, and strong." The infamous tongue made another appearance, licking over red lips. "I was so terrified you'd notice."

Erik glared, sitting up on his elbows, "Just make yourself at home, why don't you?"

Charles gave him a look. It required absolutely no telepathy to communicate, 'who do you think you're kidding?'. The older man let himself fall back against the pillows with a sigh.

"Oh, don't be difficult, darling," the professor cajoled. "I brought you something."

Acutely aware of the state in which they'd left things, Erik never the less got out of the bed before Charles felt the need to do it for him. Charles himself was sitting on the sofa by the fire, hands primly in his lap, looking very pleased with the new additions to the room. One was the sturdy leather chair Erik had once favored, and the other a chess set. Not the one from the study, though-- his captor had been remarkably stingy with the amount of metal in the room. It must have taken some doing, but then Charles had never been one to let cost or effort be prohibitive. Never the deliberate display of the nouveau riche, this young man used his money with do consideration, but also with a thoughtlessness. The sort of reflexive motion of someone who has never had to worry that one day it won't be there.

For a moment, Erik diverted his gaze, only half hoping that there might be a few articles of clothing laying about. He stood completely naked in the room's ambient warmth, as casually as he would have held himself in the dark slacks and turtlenecks he favored. If he'd ever possessed any self-consciousness or modesty, he could scarcely recall. And there was Charles, in ubiquitous tan slacks and cardigan, making no secret of his regard. A snide remark flitted over the older man's tongue, but he let it go-- not that the telepath wouldn't be aware of it. Still, it wouldn't do to give even one centimeter more than he had to.

"You're very beautiful." Those eyes were the blue of a flame closest to the wick, and their gaze felt just as hot. In spite of himself, Erik felt a pool of warmth at the base of his spine, a straightening in his shoulders. How many times had he felt the weight of it, that gaze, the propriety attention like a hand on the back of his neck? He could be anywhere-- putting Sean and Alex through their paces on the grounds, helping Hank with something in the lab, lifting weights with Raven. He didn't need to be a telepath to know when Charles was in the room.

Erik made a show of rolling his eyes. "I don't need to be wooed."

"It's true." It was painful sometimes, that Charles could still be so earnest. Erik distracted himself by crossing the room, tracing along the end of the small table. The chess board itself was a glazed mirror, with glass pieces. The black pieces were of dark stone, gleaming in the firelight. Not magnetic enough to be hematite. Obsidian, then.

"Shall we?" his opponent asked, sounding eager.

"Why bother?" A very pointed tap to his own temple.

"That would be rather a one handed exercise, don't you think?"

Erik's smile was very sharp, "I seem to recall you did just fine with four, last night."

"Oh, my dear." Such a heavy sigh to fetch, for one who held the reigns.

"Shall we continue playing," the older man asked dryly, "or shall we use the board?"

That brought an honest smile to Charles' face, which may or may not have been Erik's intention. The telepath was hardly capable of knowing something about Erik he himself did not. Or so he hoped.

"By all means."

They took their customary seats. Even now, there was no argument over what color would be used. They played in silence-- not terribly unusual, but also not typical of the evening's first game. At first, the muted pop of the firewood and click of the pieces on the mirrored board seemed oppressive. Gradually, it changed, becoming the companionable silence of old, an unspoken conversation as they studied each other's body language. Erik won the first round, playing with his usual ruthless efficiency. He worked for it, however, and Charles' frown of concentration was enough to convince him that the mind-reader had indeed withdrawn.

Or had withdrawn _enough_, Erik was forced to amend when he attempted to stand after his victory. In less than a heartbeat, he felt a cord, once gently looped, tighten firmly. It was warm, as pleasurable as silk on bare flesh, but also inflexible. He shot the telepath a dirty look, even as he bit back a moan. Psychic intimacy had never factored into their relationship before Cuba. Even as Erik asked for Charles' restraint, he had thought he understood the depths of the younger man's power.

More the fool he.

"It's not intimacy without the mental connection," Charles said quietly. "At least, not to me." It felt as though the cord wound around Erik's neck, his wrists and ankles-- bonds filled with enough pleasure to melt muscle and bone. "Your body _is_ beautiful, but your mind…" A pause, and-- over the sound of his own gasps and heartbeat--Erik became aware that the other man was also breathing heavily, attention rapt. "Your mind is _exquisite_."

He spilled no seed but, in all other ways, it was an orgasm. It felt as though Erik's entire being-- not just body and intelligence, but whatever passed for his soul-- was engulfed in reverent avarice. Charles had him, and was glorying in it, reflecting back the sight he devoured. His captive did not have the option of looking away. At last, when Erik was certain he could take no more, the telepath allowed the wave to crest, releasing him gently. He fell back against the leather upholstery, gasping. For a while, there was nothing but the pink behind his eyelids and his dry, dry throat.

Charles pressed a glass of water into his hand, leaning over the arm of the chair to brush kisses against his temple. Erik downed every drop, and damned his own hands for shaking.

"All those mansion trysts, all those anonymous hotel rooms? This is what I wanted." The whisper was sibilant, satisfied and longing at the same time. 'While you touched me, imagined draping me in delicate chains so you could have me in a way that felt complete to your powers. While you were fucking me, filling me up, I was empty, empty.'

For a moment, their foreheads rested together, before Charles mentally and physically withdrew. Busying himself with reseting the board, the telepath shot his partner a coy look.

"Best two out of three?" At Erik's slow nod, he added, "Then I'll show you what else I brought."

If Charles was hoping for curiosity, he was sorely disappointed. Curiosity killed the cat, or so common wisdom suggested. The older man knew better-- the cat often lived, to regret it.

"Clever," the professor chuckled, as if Erik had shared the thought aloud.

They began again. Erik played with a reckless aggression that lost him the second game. The winning match itself was close, but ultimately went to Erik. There was no obvious self-sabotage on Charles' part, but the metal-bender never the less wondered if his opponent wasn't playing a longer game.

"Come on, then," Charles said, tipping his king. He stood, motioning towards the wood-bolted bathroom door. He apparently did not feel the need to tighten the cord, allowing Erik to enter ahead on his own. Briefly, the other mutant stood in the threshold, feeling the hum of the pipes and the fixtures. He did not reach out for them; it was difficult to find the rage necessary when Charles was so busy flooding him with a warm, dreamy sense of well-being.

***********
Then Erik's gaze found the small red bag, hose, and nozzle arranged neatly by the bathtub. It was only the telepath's mental grip that kept him from bolting. The image of a stallion rearing would have been insulting, if it weren't so apt.

"Shhh…" Charles came to stand flush against his back, pausing to kiss Erik's shoulder blades.

(please i can't-- before, we never-- without-- don't have to)

Their relationship had not been unequal, previously. Certainly, Erik had bottomed for his younger lover-- though it was not quite so common-- and enjoyed it. This, however…

"You don't have to…" Erik began. "I'll…" He abandoned words all together, instead focusing on an image of himself, back arched, arse raised wantonly for Charles' pleasure.

"Mmmm…" A hand stroked down his hip, then over the arse in question. "You paint quite the picture, my love. But you're not getting out of this."

Alright, okay. The telepath manipulated his companion's body onto all fours inside the tub, and Erik didn't fight the rhythm of deep breaths he was given. It took considerable effort to retreat from one's body but, once you learned the trick, you never forgot. Before, he had gone inside to escape pain, the worst parts of an experiment or a beating. The sound of the faucet, the professor moving behind him-- it faded.

(not no body not no one lights are on but nobody's home. all is quiet all is still alas silent halls, not even mice just dust on the eaves and cobwebs in the attic…)

"Hey." Suddenly, Charles was crouching in front of him. Which was confusing, considering the fact he was sure he could still hear the younger man moving behind him. "Erik," Xavier said, cupping the other's chin firmly. "I _will_ come in there after you." At the same time, familiar slight fingers began circling his hole, opening him, applying lube.

"Son of a bitch." Erik glared at the Charles in front of him, which only got him soundly kissed. "You should know better than to use tricks you picked up in Frost's mind," he finished mentally. "G-d only knows where its been."

Both versions of Charles laughed, sounding delighted. The one in front began kissing him again, skillfully taking his mouth. It certainly _felt_ real, though Erik was certain he looked even more ridiculous than before.

"I wouldn't ask you for anything you're not capable of." Again with the lets-be-reasonable. The illusion of Charles reached under, began gently tormenting his nipples. Honestly, the only way Erik knew which was real was the fact the one behind him was handling… _paraphernalia_. The nozzle was metal-- his senses told him that much. He was kissed again, lingeringly, and then the other Charles was gone. At that very moment, Erik felt the the nozzle gently press in.

"There," said Charles, briefly kissing down the taller man's spine. He lifted the bag, and the water was warm. Filling. The professor was still fully clothed, and here was Erik Lensherr; nude, and accommodating so _much_. If Charles' little parlor trick had left him half hard, this finished the job. He was aroused and ashamed, and further aroused-- dragons eating each other's tails.

"Do you remember the first time you took me?" his lover asked, clearly not expecting an answer. "You were my first-- all boarding school groping aside-- and you knew it. You prepped me, so carefully." A dreamy quality crept over the tone. "And when you pushed in, I could hear you thinking--"

(mine, he's mine, i'm his first, his only if i have anything to say about it, that's charles clenching around me, mine.)

"I thought," Erik ground out. Hoarsely, but it was a miracle he could speak at all, with the twinned sensations. The metal, penetrating; being penetrated. "Thought you promised not to read my mind."

"I didn't need to," Charles murmured, not offended in the least. "I could no more have missed what you were projecting than I could have ignored the sun going nova. Not that the fucking wasn't brilliant, but…" He leaned forward, carefully, whispering against Erik's ear, "It was your thoughts that made me come."

Erik grit his teeth, narrowing his focus down to _not_ coming at this specific moment in time. Charles, of course, chose just then to remove the nozzle.

A soft command, "You'll hold it for me." Clenching, Erik squeezed his eyes shut, cheeks burning with shame. When he felt the telepath's hold withdraw, his only thought was getting to the toilet before he embarrassed himself.

***********
It was a relief, but he also felt empty, and exhausted. He leaned back against the chill porcelain, unable to decide if his body felt too expansive or too claustrophobic. Charles came to stand before him, drawing him into an uneven embrace, stroking his hair. Erik sobbed, just the once, against his captor's cardigan.

"That's my boy," the beloved voice whispered. "My good boy." Any other time, Erik would have balked at the choice of words; now, he clung to the smaller frame, shivering a the fine layer of sweat cooled against his skin. "Oh, love, you did so well."

Charles moved away, and Erik tried to go with him, ending up on his knees on the faint blue tile. He couldn't seem to let go, sliding down the other's torso until his cheek was flush with the flat stomach.

The petting continued. "That felt good, didn't it?"

Erik nodded, still holding tight. It was slow and minute, but it _was_ a nod.

"I want to make you feel so very good, because I love you so much."

As before-- oh, many times, long before the beach!-- the words came to Erik's lips, but they did not pass. The thought didn't even fully form; inside, there was still a superstitious boy, try to protect, to misdirect against a world of evil gods and men. But this was the closest he had ever come, and Charles knew that.
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Night Ocean