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Sex with Erik was wonderful. Simple as that. Erik was such a tender partner, paying attention to all of his lover's needs. He was warm, affectionate, and caring; sometimes he would even put his lover's needs above his own enjoyment. Just anything to make his partner feel good.
To have someone like Erik was probably everyone's biggest dream, and no one would dare to wish for anything more. And Charles shouldn't have complained, but sometimes he wished Erik hadn't been that gentle.
Charles found himself ungrateful at that time, because he truly had a loving partner on whom he could rely (after years of trying to find common language, but those days were in the past, and the present was generous for Charles). Yet he couldn't abandon the thought that sometimes Erik's hands were too soft and his words too kind. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it; he loved that and every piece of Erik. It was just that he wondered how things could appear different on some occasions.
What if those calloused hands of the man weren't soothing Charles' skin but leaving red, itching marks all over his body? What if the lips of his were hurting him instead of whispering sweet praises? What if, just for one moment, Erik forgot how much he loved him?
Or Charles more expected Erik to love him to the point he would understand why all of a sudden he needed Erik to make him cry.
Erik cleared his throat, and with a slow swirl of his finger, he stirred a spoon in a cup of his black, with sugar only, coffee. The motion was followed by the rustle of the newspaper he was reading. Charles was still deep in his thoughts, completely forgetting he was at breakfast with Erik. A cup of his tea was slowly getting colder, just the same as his half-eaten oatmeal.
"I can almost read your mind, and I'm convinced it should be the other way round, Charles," he said, never stopping looking at the paper.
It was Charles' turn to cough, but mostly because his mouth went dry.
"I'm sorry. I got distracted." He took a sip of the tea, nervously.
Charles was aware once he got caught it was a reasonable time to stop sinking deeper into his imagination. He was lucky it was Erik who was with him in the room, because he would have died out of embarrassment if it had been anyone else.
Erik could have a glimpse of Charles' thoughts and yet reacted basically unbothered. Charles lost control of his abilities for a short moment and couldn't tell if Erik saw something clearly, but chose to ignore it, or if he got only a general impression of Charles' heavy, restless aura, no details.
For many days Charles wondered how to successfully make Erik play the role Charles had been dreaming of, simultaneously not making him uncomfortable in the slightest or forcing anything upon him. He would never forgive himself for it, as Erik was the most precious thing that ever happened to him. Hurting him in any way was just the most awful thought that occurred to him.
He wanted to give it a try, but what if it ruined things between them?
But oh! The image couldn't leave his head. The flow of thoughts was much worse those days; he was constantly thinking about what could be done differently, and he just let himself drown in it, as nothing else occupied his head lately. He could let himself spare some time on such mundane trivialities.
So, even if he tried to stop, he couldn't. Not when Erik was looking effortlessly attractive just like that—drinking his morning coffee and smirking at those dumb humans' articles—and Charles was only able to fill his mind with the thought of Erik. The thought very far from being acknowledged as decent.
"Charles," said Erik, almost choking on his own words, and put down the newspaper, finally looking at Charles.
All Charles could feel was how his cheeks were burning—firstly, because of the filthy thoughts, and later because of the shame that suddenly fell over him. Erik was looking at him with those sharp eyes and didn't speak up since. And Charles unexpectedly found it difficult to even catch a glimpse of what Erik was thinking, with heaviness still swirling in Charles' head. He couldn't chase it away; it was like a smoke, making it impossible to notice anything else, but his own lingering imagination.
"I perhaps got too carried away with my imagination. I sincerely apologize, Erik." Charles brought himself to answer anything, feeling how Erik's rigid, cold eyes weren't about to leave him anytime soon. He tried to sound convincible; everything was all right. He wished the apologies were honest, but even if he felt embarrassed about being caught like a teenage boy, he couldn't really be sorry for what he wanted.
Eventually, Charles focused on the lack of reaction from Erik. He was sure that his visions spilling would draw bigger attention than just a few warning comments. Erik was more concerned that someone else would be exposed to them. It was a bit frustrating, Charles thought suddenly. The graphic descriptions of what he dreamed of would, expectedly, force Erik to comment on them in one way or another—appreciating the idea or calling Charles a perverted psycho, which would hurt him, of course, but the apathy was just as hurtful, almost offensive.
Moreover, not only was any word not said, Erik just seemed to suppress his thoughts so even in that way Charles couldn't find out whether he pushed the limits.
Erik, as if nothing had ever happened, just finished his coffee, and Charles ate his cold oatmeal half-heartedly.
***
The following days passed just normally. They took care of their teaching responsibilities during the day and then spent every free minute together. It was foolish, Charles knew. They weren't acting much better than teenagers who fell in love for the first time. Charles just couldn't help, but get out of Erik as much as he could (the issue could have been planted deeply inside and watered by fear the idyll would end any day, forcing them to drift apart one more time). So they were there, walking around the gardens in the afternoons and cuddling during the evenings.
Charles almost forgot about his ridiculous fantasies. He had got everything he needed—Erik's soft lips kissing him gently, Erik's hands tenderly soothing away the whole pain, and Erik loving him until he felt limp. Anything that suddenly happened in his ill head was just a temporary moment of fall, and he started feeling shame whenever he remembered those filthy scenarios he had come up with.
What was keeping him sane in his internal embarrassment was the fact that Erik had never spoken up about them, and there was no shift in his behavior. He was still the same caring Erik Charles needed badly.
Just as on any other evening, Charles was waiting in their shared bed, reading a book and listening to the flow of the shower coming from the bathroom. Not long later, Erik left the shower, wearing nothing but a cotton robe, damp on his nape as his hair was still dripping wet.
Erik slowly approached the bed, giving Charles enough time to carefully eye the body of his. He sent Erik a small smile right before Erik bent a bit and kissed him gently. It drew out of Charles a surprised gasp, but he quickly returned the kiss and nuzzled into the hand of Erik's that found its place on Charles' neck. The kiss was, as always, soft; Erik always kissed him slowly, but for a long time. He drank in all the little noises Charles was letting out. His hands would soon wander to the buttons of Charles' pajamas, and Charles would unknot the belt of Erik's robe.
None of that happened. Moreover, when Charles reached for it, he found himself stopped by something. Erik didn't stop kissing him, as Charles was wriggling, but nothing was successful. The grip on his neck tightened while the kiss became deeper, gathering at harshness. When he felt his lips being bitten, Charles almost choked on his own saliva.
He was left breathless when Erik leaned back. Charles was left a bit caught off guard, but as soon as he regained some senses, he picked up trying to free himself. A quick check made him understand the thing that was stopping him was a part of a metal bedframe keeping his wrist pinned in place, depriving Charles of movement.
Erik was now standing upright, keeping Charles' chin in a tight hold, forcing him to look up.
"Erik," Charles said firmly.
"Is there anything wrong? I thought it was what you wanted, my dear." A playful smile appeared on Erik's face.
Charles had to admit it was what he dreamed about, indeed, but the sudden shift in Erik's actions was just surprising and slightly concerning. He hid his plan well, and even at that moment Charles couldn't get a grip on anything happening inside Erik's head (he just didn't try hard enough or was too dazed, never mind; he just couldn't or maybe even didn't want to know at all). Charles was just sitting there with his mouth ajar, still in light confusion.
"I'm..." Charles tried to form a sentence when Erik threw at him one of those rushing glances with raised brow. "It's well. I'm fine."
He wasn't going to tell it, but he was just curious and eager to know what Erik had in his mind, but Charles let himself be just humanly surprised. He enjoyed those thrills going down his spine of not knowing what Erik had prepared for him. It was just exciting to be at some kind of Erik's mercy. Even when he tugged on his restraints and each time found out he was bound and helpless, he couldn't help but wish for more.
"See, Charles..."
The sentence was cut as Erik brushed his lips against Charles', kissing him just slowly, but even that brought him to whimper. It was just for a moment before Erik pulled away. It drew from Charles a pathetic, needy, and whiny sound, but Erik didn't seem to care. He just continued.
"Tonight is not about you or your well-being. It's about using you like a toy until you break."
Charles inhaled the air sharply, looking into Erik's eyes. Besides the desire, almost trying to devour him, Charles was warned in the last moment. He heard quiet calling in his head, but he was too deep in his mind to remark on it right away.
I need you to tell me whenever it's too much. Whenever something makes you uncomfortable. Whenever you want me to stop. Or just make me. You're a powerful telepath, my love, I know you can.
The voice of Erik was clear in Charles head. The tone was much different from what Erik used in reality; in Charles' head he abandoned that low, chill-sending voice and picked up something more gentle, warmer. Just through the voice, Charles could sense his concern, care, and love. The dissonance made him sick in his stomach, but in a positive way, as Erik would always situate Charles in the first place. Even if the spoken words were distinct, his mind was always in the right place, letting Charles know he would never deliberately hurt him.
I will, Charles promised, and Erik didn't waste time further.
His chin was grabbed more abruptly—fingers dug into his jaw, forcing him to part his lips. Seeing how Erik lowered himself, Charles waited for another lovely peck, the one he was so used to (and even if he complained about them recently, there was nothing better than them). Yet, nothing gentle came. No sweet lips brushing against his. No soothing touch. Instead, Charles started choking as Erik unexpectedly spat into his open mouth.
The pause that had arrived lasted not much longer than just a few seconds before Charles let out a small, satisfied whimper. But it seemed that for Erik it was his to be or not to be, waiting for a reaction. He fussed over whether he crossed the line, whether Charles liked the direction it was heading. That small noise and no word of objection were just enough of a permission to continue.
Next, two of Erik's fingers slipped into Charles' ever-parted lips, smearing their mixed saliva inside. The motion was gentle in the beginning; Erik was testing Charles and accustoming him to the feeling just before his fingers reached deeper. The tips of Erik's fingers touched the back of Charles' throat. He managed to suppress the gag reflex, but the tips touching that place were far from comfortable; his eyes slightly rolled back, but quickly regained eye contact with Erik.
The man was focused—his face tensed in concentration as his movements carefully sped up until his fingers were regularly fucking Charles throat. Yet, he still avoided inserting them too deeply.
"How are you going to take my cock if just my fingers seem to be too much for you?" Erik cooed.
The sight of Charles was already becoming obscene—as his mouth was forced open all the time, he had no time to swallow. His saliva was gathering; some trickles flew down his chin. Erik didn't care about the small mess—soon there would be even more of it. He also didn't care much when Charles whined something in response, completely unrecognizable with fingers still filling his mouth.
Erik waited for an internal signal, but nothing came.
Making Charles choke several times in the end, he finally pulled out. Erik wiped his fingers off on Charles' cheek, messing with him further, but except for a small whine, there was still nothing. And those little noises were working on him. It was nothing new, as Charles was always vocal in bed, never ashamed of his pleasure. It was just Erik who couldn't get enough of Charles' sounds of pleasure, and when he thought that later that night he would rip from him new kind of noises—wail and strangle—his cock twitched.
Erik gave Charles some time to recover, swallow, and breathe as he was undressing himself. He was completely naked under the robe, so it took him just a tug on his belt to shrug off his clothes, revealing his already hard cock. He caught Charles licking his lips and smirked as he stroked himself.
"Is it what you want? Is this what you have wanted for this whole time when you were making it insufferable to even stand around you?"
Erik was standing close enough for Charles to just lean forward and take the head of Erik's cock in his lips. He took that attempt, but before he reached, Erik used his powers, and another metal bar tightened around Charles—that time around his chest, keeping him close to the headboard and depriving him of any movement at that point.
"Eager, aren't you?"
"Yes," Charles answered right away, wearing one of his smirks he picked up when he got what he wanted.
"You want it?"
Erik came closer. Close enough for the tip of his cock to brush against Charles' cheek, smearing some wetness on it. Charles was truly eager, moving his head to the side immediately, trying to catch the head between his lips, but unsuccessfully. Erik was toying with him, giving and taking away for his own entertainment, because Charles, eager like that, was such a sight.
"I do," Charles said breathlessly. No trace of patience in his voice.
"Where are your manners then? Did Professor Xavier forget what to say? Went just too stupid at the sight of my cock to remember how well-behaved people act?"
Charles didn't even try to speak; he wasn't even listening anymore as his brain found the extensive sentences too difficult to process. He was just moving his head (as much as it was possible), trying to finally get a taste of Erik's wet tip just an inch away and still unreachable. It was until he was forced to hiss when a smack landed on his cheek; not hard enough to cause pain, but firm enough to sting.
It was far from uncomfortable, Charles had to admit. He couldn't deny the way his cheek was itching, but he also couldn't bring himself to be mad at Erik or stop him. The ache was measured just perfectly. And the fact that he twitched in his pants was also telling enough.
"Answer?"
Charles swallowed hard, bracing himself to answer, but his head was already spinning in a positive way. He just smiled in the end.
"Please. I need your cock, Erik."
Despite his position, Charles was still full of confidence and clearly tried to push all of Erik's buttons. And Erik was falling into that trap, wanting nothing more than to erase that cocky smile of his and bring him to cry.
Without further questions, Erik grabbed Charles by his head and kept him firmly in place as he pushed his cock through Charles' smirk. It happened with one, swift movement, and Charles didn't have time to even acknowledge the taste of Erik's cock on his tongue. The tip quickly hit the back of his throat, making him choke immediately. Just then his eyes watered, and when Erik didn't pull away for long seconds, Charles began to fling himself. At least attempted to. He desperately needed air and really just a short moment of break. He was even about to announce it through their telepathic thread, but Erik came to his senses at the last moment.
As Charles was free, he started coughing almost violently. Saliva mixed with Erik's fluids was all over his chin, even streaming down his throat. Erik gathered it with his fingers, pushing everything past Charles' lips, again inserting his finger inside.
"You need lessons in humility, because you clearly don't know your place, Charles."
Charles couldn't answer with words, as a finger stuck in his mouth was making it difficult to say anything coherent. As Erik supposed, he would try to talk back; that was Charles' plan, but it was reduced to pathetic whining. It was frustrating, but he just accepted that brief humiliation and decided to use his telepathy only as an absolute emergency. And even like that, deprived of mobility and his voice, he still felt pleasant warmth in his abdomen.
"Now, just be good for me."
There was a brief kiss on the corner of Charles' lips, but before he even reacted, Erik was lining up his cock against his lips again. Shortly later, Erik was pushing inside, still applying some force, but sensibly less than during the first time. Instead of staying in place, deep in Charles' throat, he was fucking it. Slowly at first, Erik was pushing just to the moment when the tip brushed against the back of Charles' throat and withdrew immediately. Every time it happened, Charles' eyes rolled back in his skull, but it wasn't making him gag. He was sitting still (as if he had any other option), letting Erik use his throat as a toy.
Charles would say the only thing he could enjoy were groans leaving Erik's throat, but it would be a lie. He enjoyed the situation in general. He sucked Erik off on several occasions, but never in such a sense. He was also the one in charge, if it could be called that way. It was nothing more than a casual blowjob, so the happening situation was something new. Yet still exciting. It was a rush of something fresh, different, and he truly liked it. Not even in his imagination could he come up with such a scenario. Moreover, he had never thought it would feel in that exact way. The reality on that particular occasion was better than dreams.
There was nothing more to do, than just relaxing his throat and letting Erik regularly fuck it. Erik's hands were gripping the sides of Charles' head as his hips worked now faster, harder. Hitting the back of Charles' throat happened more frequently, and though he couldn't fully restrain from gagging, it was easier to handle. He even quit trying to free himself (as it brought him more discomfort than actual help) and only clenched his fingers from time to time.
A small trickle of tears, saliva, and precum was flowing down Charles' chin all the time. Erik pulled out from time to time, letting Charles breathe (or, more accurately, gasp desperately for air), and then a gush of liquids was released, making a mess on Charles' chest.
He looked gross, Charles was sure of it. Glassy eyes, wetness all over his face, chin, and on his shirt. His lips were puffy, and his throat was already completely abused. But none of that could make the experience any less enjoyable. Not when Erik was so aroused by the view he couldn't keep his shields up, and Charles was able to sense everything.
Erik was approaching his orgasm; his movements were even faster and harder, but became erratic. Charles couldn't prepare himself as Erik irregularly chose between keeping thrusting and burying himself deeply to feel how the walls clench and twitch around him. Those alone could be a clear signal that Erik was near to come, but the way his thoughts were flooding Charles' head was just evident. Charles never ran away from them. On the contrary, he always let himself embrace the feelings of both of them and mix them together—taking some of Erik's sensations and giving Erik some of his own. It was a perfect bow for the very end, tightening the bond between them and making the experience personal on so many levels.
It turned out that in completely different settings it worked just fine as well. Charles didn't have to worry about spoiling the mood for them, because as soon as he strengthened their telepathic bond, both of them were just delighted.
Erik was just a moment from reaching his orgasm. Charles, feeling that, wasn't left behind for too long. He was brought to the edge just immediately, and yet, he couldn't do much about it. He tugged on his restraints, but the metal didn't even budge. His cock twitched in his pants, seeking any kind of attention, but it wouldn't come. He would move his hips, looking for any kind of friction (even if it meant humping anything in the most pathetic way), but his hips only twitched involuntarily; absolutely no control.
Charles was crying, completely despaired. The feeling of Erik being sucked off was making him go insane; his own cock was being neglected. The impression was all he could get at that time.
It was enough, to Charles' own surprise. Erik eventually buried himself as deeply as it was physically possible, and came in several, almost disturbing, waves. Charles went through them with him, trembling through each of them. He put his whole focus on Erik and Erik only, hearing him, feeling him, and feeling as him, to the point he couldn't recall much.
Between Erik filling his throat with hot semen and Erik's warm hand stroking his wrists gently was nothing but a black void. He passed out, but not for long, he supposed, as he was still sitting against the headboard. What changed was that the pressure on his wrists and chest was gone. He took advantage of it and reached to his face with his arm. As he was about to wipe himself clean, he was stopped by a gentle grip.
"Let me do this." Charles heard a low voice, but back in its familiar, affectionate tone.
The moment Charles opened his eyes, he saw Erik sitting next to him with a wet towel in his hand. Charles let him, quietly enjoying how soft the warm towel felt against his skin. He still couldn't do much, as his brain was a bit fogged, but he didn't have to do anything. Just as always, Erik was taking care of him. He was in the place he just wanted to be.
Charles regained some strength, enough to put his hand on Erik's cheek and stroke it, nonverbally asking him for a kiss. Erik immediately fulfilled that wish, and Charles noticed how much he missed touching Erik. He felt him all the time, but he truly missed having his hands on him. At that moment he wanted nothing more but to hold him for the whole night and day and for as long as possible.
He always got emotional like that after sex with Erik. Some things would never change, he thought.
"How did you like it?" Charles asked quietly.
"Me? I should be the one to ask this question, my dear."
Charles giggled lightly in response, but quickly regained some solemnity, sighing deeply.
"I was stressed you would disapprove of my... Fantasies. We never truly discussed anything this peculiar, and I was afraid you would find my thoughts perverted. I wanted to try, but the thought of forcing these upon you was stopping me. I didn't want you to feel grossed out or, even more horrible idea, obliged."
"Oh, Charles..." Erik shook his head just before coming back to kiss Charles again. "Next time use your own advice and try a conversation first. I beg you. I will not handle your depraved visions again. Are you even aware how difficult it was to ignore you walking like that? Every time you slipped and your thoughts touched me, I wanted to bend you over the nearest surface and..."
Charles put a hand over Erik's lips to silence him just in time. The man was looking at him confused with the sudden motion. And even more confusion appeared when Charles' face reddened on the spot. Erik just looked at him, questioning everything.
"Erik..." Charles started slowly, still internally realizing some things. "Erik, would you mind taking me to the bathroom? I think... I think I came in my pants earlier."
Embarrassment made even the tips of Charles' ears go red. Feeling how shame took over him, he didn't dare to even look at Erik, who found it hilarious and just openly laughed. He was sorry only when Charles smacked his arm. In the end, Erik soothed Charles' mental pain with another stolen kiss and helped him just as he was asked.