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Kicks and Bucks

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The Problem With Charles (and it is a Problem, capital letters and all, inside Moira's head) is feelings. Moira loves her job, and she's good at it; she has to be, to survive as a woman in the Agency. She has to be twice as good as anybody else just to keep her head above water. She has to be twice as careful.

The Problem With Charles is that, if she let herself, if she gave herself the slightest bit of give, she could have real feelings for him. She could fall for him, so easily.

That's not a danger with Erik.

She's braced against the dresser, hands clutching tight against the edges of the wood. Erik's breath is heavy, hot against the back of her neck, her back scratchy where he's rubbed his unshaven cheek. One of his hands has a hold on her breast, and the other is between her legs, thumb rubbing at her clit while the rest of him holds her open, apart, feeling more bared to the world than she's ever been. Every time he thrusts into her, his cock filling her completely, it pushes her up onto her toes.

"Shush," Erik says, half into her hair. "You're being too loud. Do you want the children to hear you, Moira?"

He doesn't pause, doesn't give at all while he talks.

"I'm fine," Moira says. It's an effort to force out the words.

"I can stop. If you don't think you can control yourself," Erik says. And Moira has never liked him, not since the night she met him, and she's never seen what Charles finds so worthy of his friendship, but Moira has never hated him, not until this moment.

Erik slows down his movements, so that the shift of his cock inside her is little more than a tease, almost a tickle. He pinches her nipple between two fingers.

"Don't be an ass," Moira says. When Erik chuckles behind her, she can feel it through her entire body. She thinks about his mouth, the way he made her come earlier with his tongue and his fingers, the sight of his head between her thighs.

"If you're sure," Erik says, and his grip on her goes tighter, "but do try a little harder. We wouldn't want to wake up dear Charles, would we?"

Harder, harder, Moira thinks but doesn't say, and she lets her head hang down, lets her hair fall over her face. This isn't how she would make love with Charles - that would be sweet, would be playful, she thinks, and there is a word she would never use to describe Erik, not in a million years.

"You're thinking of him right now, aren't you," Erik says. His voice is so low, so dark it makes her want to tremble. "Thinking of him inside you, fucking you like this-"

Moira bites her lip, hard and doesn't make a sound. Not like this, no, but this is good, this is what she needs right now.

She comes, pulsing around him, and then he's pulling out before she's ready, leaving her empty. She breathes heavily against the dresser and listens to him finishing himself in his own hand.

The sound he makes when he finishes is louder than any of her moans had been, she thinks.

She turns around after a moment, leaning back against the furniture as she watches him gather up clothes from the bedroom floor. She feels pleasantly sore all over, and rather sleepy. He really is very good-looking.

"Is that what this is about for you, then?" Moira says, folding her arms across her chest. She feels rather curious.

"What's that?" Erik says, pulling on his pants, not bothering to look her way.

"You have sex with me because you know Charles hasn't. Does it make you feel powerful? Superior to him, somehow?"

Erik looks at her, then, and raises one eyebrow. "Is that your theory? Interesting."

"Am I wrong?" Moira says.

"You don't understand at all," Erik says. She can't read his expression, and it irritates her. It's easy for him, this condescending distance, and she almost wonders if there really is anything else beneath it. Surely there has to be. "Not about me," Erik continues. "Not about Charles. I do wonder that he doesn't see that."

He's fully dressed again, while she's still naked. He takes a step forward and kisses her, surprisingly brief and gentle.

"Good night, Moira," Erik says. "Sleep well."

Erik lets himself out of the room, using his powers rather showily to unlock the door and close it behind.

Moira thinks: next time, she is going to push him onto his back on the bed, and ride him until he begs for it.