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your voice, your touch, your scent

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To make things perfectly clear - because, Erik thinks, things could easily become muddled - he thinks it is important to note that this ritual is for his pleasure, as much as it is for Charles's. It was Charles's idea to begin with, that much is true, but Erik knows his own mind very well, and he has never had any hesitation in telling Charles no when the occasion calls for it. That is true whether it is a serious matter or one as private and protected as their bedroom activities. Erik is by no means going to spend the evening lying back and thinking of England, as the saying goes; indeed, if he were to, Charles's own interest would disappear as well.

Yet with all that said, Erik is willing to admit a few caveats, and this one is chief among them: the seduction that Charles takes such pride in. To Erik, it is somewhat of a farce, more tedious than anything else. If he had his way, it would be easier and more efficient to just hire a professional. After all, it is not as if they are making a true connection with whatever woman they might involve in this with them, and Erik can't imagine said woman will expect any intimacy or love or lasting bond any more than Erik is prepared to give it.

You don't understand, Charles chides him gently in his head, the same words and tone as he uses each time they go through this, year after year. They are both quite practiced in their roles by now, Erik supposes. It might not matter to you, but it's a connection for me. I can't feel their minds without falling in love with them, just a little bit. It wouldn't be the same at all with a prostitute.

Erik does not roll his eyes, but only because he is used to this, too, not allowing himself to react to Charles when the people around him cannot witness their conversation. Instead he takes a sip of his martini, letting the alcohol bloom rich on his tongue as he savors it. He looks around the bar slowly, letting his eyes linger on the different women, giving Charles a chance to sort through his sight to make his selection of tonight's companion.

Oh, Charles says, a sensation in Erik's mind almost like a pleased sigh, oh, her, in the corner, Erik. She's lovely, isn't she?

A petite brunette, Erik notes with a complete lack of surprise. Charles likes all women, really, but he always returns to type eventually. At least this one, from what Erik can see, has a fuller figure, generous curves and some meat on her bones. Charles likes to psycho-analyze reasons why Erik prefers less thin women (his theories have run the gauntlet from Erik's mother complex to his time facing hunger during and after the war) but Erik feels no such compulsion. If he's going to bed someone other than Charles, someone who's not even a fellow mutant, he's rather looking forward to seeing those splendid breasts closer, and more personally.

She's looking back at Erik now, smiling with an amused expression that is neither shy nor quite coy. Erik does not require Charles's input (Oh, darling, she is thinking the most obscene things about you, and I can't blame her; we've definitely chosen correctly) to note her interest.

He rises from his stool, drink in hand, and crosses the bar to stand by her table.

"May I have this seat?" he says, gesturing.

The woman's smile widens. Her lipstick is cherry red, and Erik can hear Charles's musing on what the shade will look like smeared across Erik's cock.

Now who is getting ahead of himself, hm? Erik thinks pointedly, to a wave of Charles's amusement.

The women uncrosses and recrosses her legs as she sweeps her hand toward the table in imitation of Erik's. "Be my guest," she responds, in a low and even voice.

Erik does not pay much attention to what happens next: more of the tedium, he thinks. It's enough to be Charles's puppet, repeating the words Charles feeds him to charm and intrigue the girl. He can feel the satisfaction Charles takes in even this, weaving the words around with the woman to convince her of what they both (all) want. It was practically a hobby for Charles, once, these conquests, though it was before Erik met him. It's not an interest in anything like monogamy that keeps Charles from doing it now, but then, his injury changed many things, as little as they may talk about it.

If Erik is not particularly interested in the woman's personality or the mysteries of her soul, Charles can be interested enough for both of them. Erik's interest in her body, he does not have to fake; that comes through in his eyes, he suspects, running over her body, and he can see how she responds to the attention, leaning over, touching his arm, moving closer and closer.

"I have a room upstairs," Erik says, finally, when his patience runs out. Charles would drag it on longer, he suspects, for when he allows Charles to indulge himself Charles likes nothing more than to make both of them wait for their pleasure, as long as he can, until Erik is crazed with it and finally snaps. It is only getting worse with the years, somehow. "I don't suppose you would be interested in seeing it..."

She hesitates for only a moment, obviously merely to be able to tell herself she did, only for show, and then her arm is in Erik's and he is guiding her out of the bar and toward the hotel elevator.

It is second nature for him to use his powers, both in the lift itself, and again when they reach his door and he has to fumble in his pocket for keys. It has been quite literally years since he used a key in any context other than this, and it feels rusty, foreign, wrong to do so even now, bringing a furrow to his brow. It is only the knowledge that Charles is in the room next door, spread out on the bed where Erik left him an hour ago with one final kiss, that reminds Erik why he's doing this and why it's worth it.

The room is dominated by the king bed, almost as large as the one Charles owns at his school. Its headboard is against the wall, the one shared with Charles's room. If he gives the girl enough pleasure, Erik supposes, it's possible Charles will be able to hear her through it, another sense for him to experience beyond the ones he'll be feeding on through Erik's mind.

Your ego is spectatacular, as always, darling, Charles tells him with a hint of laughter in his mental voice. Need I remind you the first time we did this, I had to teach you how to lick cunt?

Hell, he loves Charles's profanity, dirty and low and sweet. He's aroused now, and it must be obvious to the girl as well, as her eyes are sparkling and her chest heaving a little as she turns around to face him after he removes her jacket.

"Would you like another drink?" Erik says, looking down at her. In her heels, she is almost exactly the height he remembers Charles as being, back when he could walk. "I have some wine, I believe--"

"That won't be necessary," she says, placing her hands flat against Erik's chest and tilting her head up to him in clear invitation.

The kiss is long and deep. He buries his hands in her hair, which is full and soft, and pulls her in hard against her body; it makes her shudder, with a light sound against his mouth, and a whisper of Mmm, lovely from Charles.

She gets her hands between them, cupping his erection in his trousers, and he finds himself, unexpectly, rather fond of her; she is no timid thing, at least, but forthright and assertive, and knowing what she wants, and Erik can almost respect that.

That would be sweeter if you even remembered her name, Charles notes.

Do be quiet, Erik responds, though he doesn't really mean it, and Charles wouldn't listen if he did.

They stop kissing long enough for the woman to turn her back to him, presenting him with a zipper that runs the length of her dress from the nape of her neck to the small of her back. Another oddity, pulling the zipper down with his fingers, tooth by tooth. He kisses bits of skin as they are exposed, following the way down, until he is on his knees. She pushes the dresses off her arms and it falls to a pool at her feet, leaving her clad only in her brassiere and underpants. Erik places his hands on her waist, and strokes them down her sides, to her hips and then her thighs, feeling goosebumps rise upon the pale skin. When she looks back over her shoulder at him, he releases her and stands again, beginning to strip himself.

She doesn't offer to help, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him instead, lower lip caught between her teeth. Erik doesn't prolong any of it - he has never been any good at a striptease - but he is out of his clothes quickly, standing naked before her.

You're bigger than she expected, Charles says, sounding almost gleeful. She's not sure whether to be excited or scared.

Erik does his best to ignore this; Charles has always been very fond of discussing the size of Erik's penis, and there's something rather embarrassing about it, though Erik can't deny it's intensely arousing as well.

"Will you take that off for me?" Erik says softly, stroking one finger over the woman's bra strap. "I'd love to see you."

She doesn't break eye contact while she reaches behind herself to undo the clasp. Her breasts fall heavily against her chest and she drops the bra on the ground in front of her.

"Lovely," Erik says sincerely. He leans in to kiss her again, and they make their way a little awkwardly, crawling further onto the bed, until they are lying fully atop the mattress. Erik rests his weight on his elbows, his body covering hers completely. His erection is full and hot against her soft belly; when she arches up against him, her nipples press firm against his chest.

Erik is not sure how long the kissing lasts, but it seems like ages, Charles's encouragement and pleasure feather-light in his head, and the woman beneath him slowly beginning to move, wave upon wave, warming up beneath him and seeking more. It is only when she pulls on his hair, silently pleading, that Erik releases her mouth and begins to kiss his way down her throat, and further.

They are lovely breasts, and he lavishes a great deal of attention on them. Her nipples are large, and they fit brilliantly into his mouth. They taste almost as good as yours, he tells Charles as he suckles. Are you touching yours yet?

Not yet, Charles says, and Erik knows from long experience that Charles's breath will be coming with more difficulty now, the flush of his face will be spreading down across his chest, his words will be the slightest bit muddled. If I touch them now I'll come right away, and I don't want to waste it.

The words are enough to make Erik lose a bit of his tightly reined-in control, enough that he can't help but thrust, a short, hard thing against the woman's soft skin. It wrenches a gasp out of her, and then she's pushing him off of her - though only, Erik sees, so she can push her panties down her legs, leaving her bare before him.

"Do you have anything?" she says, and Erik nods, reaching out toward the bedside drawer, where he had laid a few prophylactics in wait, after a awkward visit to the pharmacy this afternoon. Every time he tells Charles that it will be his turn next, and yet it never seems to turn out that way.

He opens the package and rolls the condom upon his penis. It's the first time his hand has been on himself since a brush as he removed his underwear, and he allows himself a moment to indulge in the pleasure.

The woman looks a little thoughtful. She tilts her head again, gazing at him. "You must do this often, I suppose."

Erik smiles at her. "Not as often as you might think," he tells her. Once a year, if that. Otherwise, there has only been Charles, for him, for a very long time. Even before they met, perhaps, there was only Charles; Erik had only yet to discover it.

Oh, darling, Charles says, his warmth and affection overflowing into Erik's head so completely that Erik has to squeeze tightly at the base of his erection to keep from reaching climax immediately, and ruining everything.

Charles, he says reproachfully, a gentle warning, and Charles's feelings fade a little. He is still there, in Erik's mind, but there is enough distance now for Erik to manage some measure of cntrol.

Erik settles himself against the headboard, legs out in front of him, and the woman follows his lead, climbing onto his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck as they kiss once again. He places his hands on her broad hips, bracing her and holding her steady. His erection is between her legs, where she's open wide for him, and he can feel the heat of her, the wetness, every time he moves, rubbing up against the lips of her vulva and the entrance to her vagina.

Cunt, Charles says. The word is cunt. Your gorgeous cock into her hot, grasping cunt. Let me feel it, Erik. It's been so long.

Erik closes his eyes, swallowing down hard, and as the woman rocks against him again, this time the head of his penis catches against her sheath. She makes a quiet noise, turning her head into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, as he pulls her down, taking him in inch by inch until she's fully seated upon him.

"Oh god," she says, almost a gasp, and then her internal muscles are squeezing him tightly and rhythmically, as if she were learning his shape and size inside her. Erik moans at the sensations, and he can hear the echo of Charles's moan, too, within his head; if Charles were waiting to touch himself before, he has most certainly given up to the temptation now.

The angle is such that her breasts are at a convenient height as she begins to move herself, using her hands on his shoulders to lift herself up and down, riding him. Erik only has to lean in and apply his tongue.

Don't forget her clitoris, Charles reminds him.

Yes, I know, Erik says; if he wasn't currently experiencing such pleasure, he would again be fighting the temptation to roll his eyes. You've only told me a thousand times.

That angle is slightly more difficult, but he manages his thumb between them, pushing up to rub against that slick nub of flesh. It does seem to increase her ecstasy, just as Charles always claims.

She shrieks softly as she reaches her climax, letting out a series of "oh, oh, oh, oh, oh" as she clamps down impossibly tight on Erik.

Now? Erik thinks, a little desperately, maybe, reaching out to Charles - there can't be much more than ten feet separating them, but it is too much, suddenly, now. Charles, are you ready?

Yes, Charles says immediately, yes, my darling, you did so perfectly, it was so good, now come for me, please, let me feel you come, Erik--

And he does.

Erik forgets about everything for some moments, lost in his own world; when he comes back to himself, it's with some surprise, because he had already forgotten about the woman he's still joined with, who is still resting heavily against his chest.

He strokes a hand down her hair, and when she stretches and looks up toward his face he smiles and kisses her again politely, feeling a profound sense of gratitude. "That was lovely," he tells her, quite sincerely, though she seems to find it amusing that he says so.

She rises from the bed before very many more minutes are up and begins to collect her clothing from the floor. There is never any awkwardness about them staying. Erik is not entirely sure whether this because Charles somehow subconsciously suggests to them they would be happier in their own places, or if Erik is simply not the sort of person one would want to stay with. It doesn't matter much, either way. Charles is waiting for him next door, spent and lovely, and there are only so many nights Erik is able to spend by his side. Once the woman is gone, Erik can return to him, crawl into bed beside him and wrap himself around his familiar body, and sleep peacefully for a night. It's all he can do not to rush her out - but that would only raise Charles's ire, as well as being unnecessary and unkind.

Erik gets out of the bed himself, exititing to the bathroom to dispose of the used condom and wipe himself off briefly. By the time he's returned to the room, she's mostly dressed, though she still holds her heels in one hand.

She smiles at him, a little self-consciously, and waves her hand towards her back. "Could you..."

"Of course," he responds, and he walks behind her so he can assist her with the zipper of her dress. She can't see, of course, and he pleases himself by letting go and using his powers for the last few inches.

He walks her to the door, and kisses her hand once he opens it for her, which, surprisingly, causes her to giggle.

Such a gentleman, Charles murmurs, and if it is not mockery it is not totally dissimilar, either. Erik does not dignify it with a response. Instead, he stands at the door, closed once more, and rests his head against the wood, pushing out his sense of metal to the elevators - and once he feels one begin to move, taking the woman away again to a different floor, he allows himself into the hall, crossing those few damned feet of carpet to the next door down and lets himself into Charles's room.