Chapter Text
“I’ve never done this before,” Erik is saying as he unbuttons Charles’ pants. “But you—you—you really make me want to try some things out, Charles.”
Against the wall, Charles laughs. He’s too flushed for it to be teasing, or to mean anything, really. But Erik still pays attention to him—it’s hard not to. Charles takes up most of the space in his mind, and outside of it as well.
“You could afford to sound less offended when you say that,” he says, fondly, cradling Erik’s jaw and kissing him again. Erik could get lost doing this—simple and so intoxicating at the same time. Charles was an irregularity, a person that encapsulated everything Erik thought impossible. “But yes, darling, anything. What is it?”
Erik’s always been better at doing than saying. He smiles at him, fully aware that it might not explain anything, and drops to his knees. He hears Charles’ surprised oh! above him, which—he really ought to stop making Erik smile like this. He puts his shirt up, kissing his stomach softly, as Charles’ hands come to his hair.
I need you to tell me what to do, Erik tells him, getting his lips busy by getting them down to his navel, inhaling softly. I have never done this before.
“And you’re sure you want to do this? With me?”
No one else I would rather do this to.
“All right,” Charles says, sighing softly as Erik lowers his underwear, kissing gently.
He’s nervous about this. He shouldn’t be, because it’s Charles Xavier and this is the last man Erik would feel self-conscious around. But he wants this to be good for him, although if he had to guess—Charles would tell him that the mere fact it’s Erik doing this would make it good for him.
“You know me too well,” Charles chuckles. Erik pulls his underwear down, wraps a hand around his cock, and looks up at Charles. “Okay. All right. Oh, Erik…”
“Those aren’t instructions,” Erik reminds him, jerking him off. He presses his lips against the tip, out of curiosity, and hears Charles inhaling deeply already.
“There’s — well, there’s certainly no science to it,” Charles is trying to say, as Erik licks the head curiously. “You—how, how do I even say this… Take a bit in, will you?”
So polite. Erik holds back a laugh and does as told. He opens his mouth and puts Charles’ cock inside, and the sensation is—it’s strange, at first, but then he rests his hands against Charles’ hips and takes a bit more, bringing his lips down and then up to the head again. Charles moans above him, his fingers not knowing whether to tug his hair or to tangle in it.
“Good?” Erik asks, looking up, and as a response he feels Charles’ hands on his head urging him on.
Erik laughs for real now, taking him in again. He stretches his lips around him, grabbing the base, and hears Charles’ gentle command inside his head: Bob your head. You don’t have to do it harshly, or quickly—
But he does it at a fast pace, anyway, because he’s curious. Charles fits so perfectly in his mouth, the perfect weight of him settling as he teases with his tongue. He's not sure what he's doing, but he conjures up memories of what Charles did to him—and tries to replicate them.
He pulls off, curious to see how it affects Charles when he licks from base to tip, over and over. He takes his time with it as he feels Charles' hips stutter, and this is addicting—this feeling of having Charles react like this to Erik's actions.
“I want to take you all the way in,” Erik says, “Can you help me with that?”
Charles swears, which always sounds so unlike him, Erik has to laugh.
“Yes, yes, I can,” Charles tells him, cock twitching on Erik's hand. “I don't know if your gag reflex—”
“You're a telepath,” Erik says. “You can get rid of it, I bet.”
Charles closes his eyes tightly. He's not forming any coherent thoughts right now—Erik knows, because he can hear him inside his head. Instead, all he feels from Charles is pure, unfiltered arousal.
“I can,” Charles confirms finally.
“Get to it, then.”
Erik takes him in slowly, savoring each inch until the tip touches his throat. He's shocked that Charles remembers to take care of his reflex, because as if it was magic—his throat loosens up and his nose meets the base of his cock. Erik noses it gently, moaning, but the noises Charles makes when he looks up to him are wonderful in itself.
His hips thrust up, and oh, that goes straight to his cock. The beginnings of an apology begin to form in Charles' head, so Erik is quick to counter-attack: Do it again. You have permission. Do whatever you want.
Charles doesn't need to be told twice, and Erik is helpless to not moan around him. Charles tugs with the right amount of pressure and Erik's fingers dig into his hips hard enough that he's briefly scared of bruising him—but none of that matters. Charles thrusts into his mouth fast, hard, and Erik finds that he likes it. He likes taking it, he likes to have a part of himself reserved only for Charles.
After all, he would never be on his knees for anyone else.
He knows it's that thought that gets Charles over the edge, because he's a sentimental fool like that. Erik sucks him through it, trying to make the most out of this situation—trying to etch every single detail into his brain; the feeling, the taste, the setting.
After Erik pulls off, Charles drops unceremoniously to his knees and kisses him, hand around his neck and the other one cupping his face.
“We have a bed next to us,” Erik tells him, voice just a little hoarse. He likes it. Likes the physical reminder of Charles. “But you had to drop to the floor, too.”
“Couldn't help it,” he says, not sorry at all. “Tell me what you want,” Charles kisses his jaw, moving to his neck.
Bracing himself for the spike of arousal to come from Charles, in the most neutral tone he can manage, he says:
“I wanted you to fuck me, but if that's not possible right now… your fingers will do fine,” and he can't help it: he grins immediately. Charles freezes against him, pulling away to stare at him.
“My God, Erik,” he says, almost pained, and with a laugh Erik is finally dragged to bed.