It's not unusual for there to be someone in the kitchen at odd hours -- after all, most of the current residents of the mansion are either older teenagers or just beyond it, and most of them are male, which makes for bottomless pits even when they aren't expending massive amounts of energy trying to master their powers -- but it is rather unusual for Erik to be in the kitchen.
It's also unusual for him to be shirtless.
Charles leans against the doorway, admiring the view. Strong broad shoulders, muscles and shoulderblades flexing as he moves, and hipbones peeking tantalizingly out of low-slung trousers. The urge to touch is strong: he wants to run his hands over the planes and angles, to suck at each knob of Erik's spine, to shove the trousers down and hang onto Erik's hips as Charles fucks him against the counter...
"I can hear you salivating," Erik remarks dryly without turning around. "I'm making instant coffee; I got desperate. Want one?"
//Want you,// Charles projects. He comes up behind Erik, not letting himself touch yet, just getting a closer view. //Honestly, Erik, why don't you do this more often?//
"What, make coffee?"
//No,// Charles says, and he kisses the nape of Erik's neck. //Go shirtless. It's positively a crime, hiding all that delicious skin--//
"It's a distraction," Erik says. Sharply, or at least trying for it, but Charles can hear the smile creeping through. "We can't afford distractions."
"Oh, but it's early yet." Charles fits his hands along Erik's waist, thumbs over the spot where his ass dimples so nicely, fingers aligning with the ridge of his hips, and sets his chin over Erik's shoulder. //No one's awake. I've checked.//
"Voyeur," Erik murmurs. He lifts the cup to his mouth -- instant coffee is dreadful stuff, in Charles's opinion, but Erik has his own tastes -- and Charles can feel him swallow.