5 Times Charles and Erik Kissed.  And One Other Time They Kissed Too.
by elfin


1.  At the Secret CIA Facility
 
“I’m glad you changed your mind,” Charles tells Erik when they’re in the wide, grey stone corridor outside Randal’s office.
 
Erik shrugs.  “You stopped me from leaving.”
 
It halts Charles mid-stride and Erik pauses too, right at his shoulder so that they’re closer than Charles expects when he looks up at him and replies, “I really didn’t.”  It’s a protest of his innocence; he could have done, but he didn’t.  They're standing close enough for Erik to hold him still with just a look as he lifts his hand and strokes his fingertips through the short hair above Charles’ left ear.
 
“Yes, you really did,” he murmurs.
 
“Oh.”  His intentions couldn’t be clearer as he leans down slowly to touch his lips to Charles’ mouth.  “Ohh ummm.”  The happy little sound he makes sings to Erik’s soul, and the way he makes Erik welcome stokes the fire that ignited between them the night before last, after Charles leapt into freezing cold water to stop him. 
 
It’s good to know neither of them are going to deny it and Erik pulls back slowly, making sure Charles doesn’t get the wrong impression, licking his lips and smiling at the perfect expression of bliss on Charles’ face.
 
“If a kiss can make you look like that,” he comments softly, “what will you look like after sex?”
 
Charles beams at him, eyes shining, challenge clear before it’s even spoken.  “Let’s find out.”
 
 
2.  Inside Cerebro
 
He can’t help himself sometimes.  Needling Charles could become one of his favourite pastimes, right up there alongside fucking him.  For an over-educated, over-dressed, stuck-up G-Man wannabe, Charles is frankly astonishing in bed.  Erik hasn’t been celibate all these years, but sex has been functional, enjoyable right up until it’s over, then he’s gone. 

Not so with Charles.
 
After they were done, Charles had lain boneless on top of him until he’d decided it was time to get back to work.  All Erik wants now is to get this over with and get Charles back to the bedroom.
 
Still, adoration aside, he can’t help but tell Charles what an adorable lab rat he makes, with a mix of sarcasm and affection, and Charles asks him not to spoil this for him with a familiarity he’s assuming simply because they’ve made love.  It’s a familiarity no one else he’s ever met has even considered assuming with him. 

"I've been a lab rat," he presses, needing the slight distance. "I know one when I see one.”  And I don't want that for you.

He catches Charles' sideways glance and his smile, knowing he heard the thought just before he closes his eyes.  He stays close, and when Hank switches the machine on, he watches, waits.  When Charles screams, he almost lifts the thing from his head by the wires but stops himself just in time.  Then, thankfully, Charles suddenly opens his eyes and laughs, and the machine goes crazy.

At first everything seems okay.  Charles alternates between rough laughter and fast, shallow breathing, wide eyes sparkling.  His hands grip the metal railing, his fingers flexing as he tests the limits of his power now amplified by the transmitter.  His power is considerable without this machine but with it, he could be very, very dangerous.  With anyone else, Erik might be scared.  But Charles wouldn’t, couldn’t hurt anyone.  Erik’s never felt this security, this kind of safety in anyone’s presence, and as tempting as it is he doesn’t know what to do with it.

He doesn’t move, stays at Charles’ side, shares in his joy. 

But as time goes on, Charles laughs less, takes deeper and deeper breaths, and finally his face slackens, his eyes roll back into his head.

"Turn it off!"

It takes Hank a moment to react, but thank god the machine goes dark just as Charles' fingers slip from the rail and he collapses out from under the helmet, legs buckling.  Erik saves him from cracking his skull on the metal floor, catching him just before he hits and going with him, holding his head in his lap as he checks his pulse, checks his breathing, strokes his face in a way not usually associated with first aid.

"Charles.  Come on, Charles, wake-"

It's all he gets out before there's an explosion in his head like a nuclear bomb and he throws his hands up as if covering his ears will stop the sudden, vivid, sharp pain.  His stomach turns, threatening to expel his lunch.  He hears Hank and Raven scream.  Then it's gone as quickly as it started and Charles is struggling to sit up, looking around in horror.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

He realises what happened; Charles’ mind was still reaching for mutants, even though the machine was no longer attached, but found only the three of them and because they were so close by....  He stops Charles from getting to his feet, placing strong hands on his shoulders before he tells Hank and Raven to give Charles some time or to get some air, he isn't actually sure what he says or whether in fact he says anything at all, he isn’t sure that Charles didn't just push without them knowing it.  The result is the same though, he and Charles left alone in the strange pinky-yellow innards of the machine that tracks down mutants.

"I'm sorry," Charles tries again and Erik hushes him.

"Are you all right?"

Now that there's nothing to be apologising for, Charles finally takes stock of himself and Erik watches him as he relaxes back into Erik’s lap and squeezes his eyes shut.  "I've got a godawful headache."

With a little smile of relief, Erik leans over and does something entirely out of character; he kisses Charles' forehead.  Then he leans a little further over him and kisses his lips.

"I've heard that sex can be a great cure for headaches."

It's a relief too that Charles grins.  "In that case, shall we?"
 
 
3.  At the Club
 
Erik watches Angel leave to change, to pick up her bag and hand in her notice.  They're taking her to the airport; Raven will meet her in Washington while he and Charles head to L.A.

"Maybe we should have let her..." he shrugs, turns his head to catch Charles' interested smile. 

"I'm sure one of the other dancers would oblige," he suggests, holding out his champagne glass which Erik fills as he drinks in the sight of his lover.  Charles looks ruffled; top two shirt buttons undone, a slight blush to his cheeks from the drink and the warmth of the room, and a definite erection in his trousers.  It's too much to resist.  Erik reaches over, strokes Charles cock through the expensive grey fabric and instead of slapping his hand away, Charles moans and presses up into the heat of his palm. 

"Slut," he murmurs affectionately, leans over and kisses him, keeps kissing him while he brings him swiftly and messily to orgasm.


4.  Russia
 
Heart hammering, pulse racing, Erik knocks another two guards unconscious with the butts of their own guns, spinning on the balls of his feet when the front door of the mansion opens and slams behind him.  He's in full flow, energy pulsing through him, so that his first response is attack.  His eyes widen at sight of his lover standing with his back to the door, breathing hard and luckily Charles isn't carrying a weapon of any kind, there's nothing for Erik's powers to connect with.

Anger melts from him like water to be replaced by a desire that flares through him like a flame.  Charles comes towards him as he steps over the two unconscious guards and they meet in front of a huge ornate mirror, Erik grabbing the lapels of Charles' wool coat and lifting him bodily so that their mouths mash together in a hard kiss.  Charles' hands grip his shoulders, he tips his head to one side and pushes his tongue into Erik's mouth. 

God, Erik...

He breaks them apart, shark-like grin on his face.  "What are you doing?"

"Stopping you from starting World War III."  Then he shakes his head firmly.  "I couldn't leave you, but the others have gone."

"Then it's just you and me."  Just the way he wants it, he thinks; it feels right that it's he and Charles, side by side, against Shaw.  Against the world if it comes to that.

Charles nods once, puts his fingers to his temple and Erik braces suddenly for the intrusion that doesn't come.  A second later, Charles is smiling at him.  "They're upstairs, forth door on the left."

They're stronger, better, incredible together, Erik thinks, and feels a warmth projected back at him that stokes his passion higher.  This is becoming a greater and greater distraction from his lifelong goal of revenge.  It's sweeter and more of a temptation with every day that passes but he can't let Shaw out of his sights, not now he's so close. 

"Come on," and Charles is right behind him as they take the stairs two at a time, up to greet Emma Frost.

 
5.  Chess
 
“Peace was never an option.”

Charles' expression is accompanied by a sudden spike in his mind that isn’t exactly painful but leaves a sharp imprint in his memory of hurt and betrayal.  Then Charles is on his feet, and Erik thinks he’s going to walk out, but instead he pushes the table and the chess board to one side, spilling the captured pieces from the edge, and climbs into Erik's lap, knees either side of his thighs on the wide seat of the chair, hands cupping his face.

“I will help you kill Shaw," he says, voice low, words intense.  Erik's hard just from the weight of him, the heat of him, the pressure skitting across his mind.  His hands settle on Charles' narrow hips almost of their own volition.  "But you have to do something for me.  You have to make me a promise."

Erik tears his eyes from Charles' bright regard and stares out over his shoulder.  "I won't make promises I can't keep."

"Then make one you can keep.  Promise you'll stay.  Afterwards, I know you're thinking of leaving...."

Suddenly angry, his eyes snap back and lock onto Charles'.  "You said you wouldn't read my mind!"

"You've come to mean the world to me, Erik.  I don't want to lose you and if I've used my ability to try to save myself heartache, I'm not apologising for that."  There's no way Erik can stay mad in the honesty of Charles' confession.  "Don't tell me this means nothing to you, that I mean nothing to you."

He wants to deny it, because he made a pledge a long time ago not to need anyone, but it would be a lie.  "I love you."  The words are choked, sound as if they've been dragged from him.

Charles looks as if he's fighting the happiness obviously bubbling up inside him.  "Then promise me you'll stay.  If I help you, if I let you kill Shaw, promise you’ll stay with me."

Erik nods, surprising tears in his eyes.  If he lets Charles do this, he'll be destroying something beautiful, and it touches him deeply that his lover is willing to make such a sacrifice.  "I promise."

Thank you.

Slowly, Charles leans down and kisses him, so slowly, tasting his lips, pushing between them and tasting his tongue, drawing a path back along it with the tip of his own.  Erik reaches behind him, pulls the shirt up from out of the waistband of his slacks and finds flushed, smooth skin.  He pulls him forward, closer, cloth-covered erections bumping together as he shifts forward on the chair, straightening his back, no room for even air between them.  Charles winds his arms around Erik's neck, going for his tonsils, constantly moving, trying to get some friction between them.

Gathering his senses, Erik pushes him, not away but back, breaking the kiss, demanding, "Strip for me," his voice rough.

A smile blossoms on Charles' face and he climbs off Erik's lap, stands just in front of his knees and removes his clothes.  He starts with his shirt, one button at a time, peeling it from his shoulders, letting it drop to the carpet.  Erik opens his trousers, wriggling slightly to free himself as Charles let's his own pants slide to his ankles and steps out of them with grace.  He comes forward again, but Erik grabs his hips and turns him, pulling him backwards into his lap until Charles' back is flush to his chest, his cock trapped under him, nudging at Charles’ balls.

Charles moans, an obscene sound that makes Erik want to do all sorts of things to him, but always, always with Charles' consent. 

Given.

He doesn't understand until Charles lifts up, reaches back for his cock and positions it and himself, easing down slowly, impaling himself dry.  Erik feels the pain, like Charles is sharing it to halve it and he doesn't care because the exquisite pressure is more than worth it.  Charles reaches one arm back around Erik's neck while Erik buries his face in Charles' shoulder, one arm around his chest, holding on just tight enough that he can still move.  The other rests on Charles’ thigh, long fingers wrapped around his cock, keeping to the same slow rhythm Charles has set.

It's not the easiest of positions to maintain and there's a low level ache beneath the pleasure Charles is broadcasting.  Erik at least has the presence of mind to hope that this isn't something they're sharing with the entire household. 

Just you.  Charles reassures him.  Just you, Erik. always you.  Always, always, always...

Then he comes suddenly, explosively, coating Erik's hand, triggering his orgasm deep inside Charles.

Wrapping his arms tight around his lover, Erik holds him until he cautiously lifts off Erik's cock and turns, sliding sideways into his lap, arms around Erik's neck in a rare moment of mental peace.  Usually Erik can feel him, around the edges of his mind, a presence he's grown quickly to not only accept but to welcome.  It's a still pressure now, barely there, as Charles takes a deep breath and melts into him. 

 
6.  And Finally, on the Beach

"You bastard! You promised!"

With an arsenal of weaponry flying towards the fleet, Charles tackles Erik, slams into him and takes him to the ground, sand bursting up from under him, around him as he lands with an oomph.  Somewhere out to sea, missiles and rockets start to drop or explode, way off target.  Erik braces for a fight but Charles doesn't hit him, he kisses him, hard, teeth catching his lips, the tang of blood touching his tongue.

It's the perfect distraction.  The next thing he’s aware of is Charles in his head, before he even realises the helmet's gone.  He tries to fight but it's too late and he really doesn't want to any longer anyway.  He's had his revenge, what does giving up the promise of world domination matter when he can have a man like Charles at his side and in his bed?

Instead of throwing a punch, Erik wraps his arms around Charles' neck and holds on, riding out the confusing images and words bombarding him.  He's no longer being kissed.  Instead Charles' forehead rests against his own, he can feel his lover breathing hard, can feel the fear flowing from him, feel the pain he’s caused, a silver coin cracking open his skull, his breaking heart.

"Charles... it's all right."  I'm here.  I'm with you.  I'm sorry.  He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, easing his hold, letting his hands rest on Charles' face.  It's all right.  He mentally re-makes his promise, hoping Charles will hear him.

The torrent subsides.  Charles lifts his head and Erik sees the tears in his eyes, feels the wetness on his own face. 

“I’m sorry.”  For what feels like forever, Charles stays straddling his waist and Erik can feel him in his head, not digging but definitely looking for something.   “What do you want?”

“To know you want me.  To know it hasn’t been lies....”

Erik’s thinks he can feel his heart crack.  “You don’t know?”

Smiling through his tears, Charles mentally retreats.  “I do now.”

fin
elfin