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all you had to do was ask

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“Charles,” Erik grits out, eyes firmly on his book, “if you do not stop doing that thing you’re doing to that spoon, I will take it away from you.”

“Hmm, what?” Charles asks, sounding confused.

Erik looks up to see the spoon half way between Charles’ mouth and the bowl of ice cream he’s eating. Erik glares.

“If you take away my spoon, I’ll have to eat my ice cream with my fingers,” Charles points out in what he probably thinks is a reasonable tone of voice, but Erik has been sitting here for nearly twenty minutes feeling every curl of Charles’ tongue around the metal of the spoon and he’s not feeling up to being reasonable.

“That would be preferable,” Erik mutters, turning a page in his book to keep up the pretense that he’s reading.

There is a soft clink of a bowl being set on wood and then Charles is leaning forward and putting his hands on Erik’s knees. “You’ll have to explain that to me my friend, because it doesn’t make sense.”

“You’re – you can’t possibly be unaware of what you’ve been doing,” Erik says, incredulous.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Erik, I assure you,” Charles says, looking earnest.

“That spoon is made of metal,” Erik says.

“The spoon is made of metal? Of course it’s made of metal, what else would it be – oh. Oh,” Charles says, red suffusing his cheeks as he jerks his hands off Erik’s knees and sits back in chair.

“I’m, um,” Charles says, refusing to look at Erik, “I’m very sorry.”

“Just stop fellating the damn spoon, Charles,” Erik says dryly, “unless you want me to defile you with it.”

Charles makes a humming noise low in his throat, and Erik glances up to see Charles looking thoughtfully between Erik and the spoon.

Erik grins, showing all his teeth and lifts the ice cream covered spoon out of the bowl and floats it over. He wraps his fingers around the steam and sucks the ice cream off of it, eyes locked with Charles’ the whole time.

“If that’s what you wanted, all you had to do was say so,” Erik purrs, and is rewarded by another, deeper blush.

“I wasn’t-,” Charles protests as Erik leans forward and wraps a hand in Charles’ shirt.

“I know,” Erik says, voice low, and kisses him.