Their first meeting could've gone smoother.
As it was, Charles only managed to yelp, "Watch out!" before deciding that tackling the man to the pavement was a better alternative than him being run over by a speeding motorcycle.
They landed in a somewhat graceful heap with Charles on top - their faces barely an inch apart - before the man hoisted Charles to the side and took off running.
Charles sat there in a befuddled stupor, watching the man turn the corner and disappear, paying little attention to the crowd that had formed and barely hearing Mrs Kensington's fretful inquiries.
Oh, Charles thought, as he was helped to his feet by two of Mrs Kensington's busboys and back into her cafe.
Oh my, he continued to think as Mrs Kensington set a cup of Earl Grey in front of him and bade him to drink.
"Dear Lord," he muttered to himself as he took a fortifying sip. That was the most gorgeous man I've ever seen in my life.
Their second meeting went something like this:
Raven was being stubborn and had outright refused to accompany him to yet another one of Kathryn Worthington's little soirees. She'd even gone so far as dyeing her hair blue and tossing all her lovely dresses in the fireplace. Teenage rebellion was all well and good, was Charles's opinion on the matter - privately he thanked whatever deity that Raven had gone the angry goth route instead of the indiscriminate sexual activities he'd decided on - but destroying the Green Room and almost killing them via smoke inhalation was a tad much.
Abilena had delivered a sound scolding and had sent Raven off to bed without supper, which was a bit harsh in Charles's opinion but when he'd opened his mouth to plead Raven's case, Abilena had rounded on him with a glare that effectively shut him up and had all but ordered him out of the house.
Discretion being the better part of valour, Charles went - but not before laying a box of Marks & Sparks teacakes from his illicit stash outside Raven's door.
The party was a dreadful bore, something about welcoming someone to town. Kathryn delivered a speech, which Charles missed as he had enticed a pair of servers into the cloakroom and had spent a very satisfying half hour being charmed by their fumblings. He passed the next hour flirting with half the room and avoiding the other half. Really, you sleep with someone's fiance one time...
Kathryn managed to accost him somewhere around his sixth glass of champagne - when he was at his most susceptible - and nattered on while dragging him halfway across the room where a small crowd had gathered.
" - apprehended a criminal just this morning!" Kathryn finished while Charles stared distractedly at her enormous earrings.
Emeralds of that size were really quite gauche, especially when surrounded by that many diamonds.
"Erik, may I introduce Professor Charles Xavier? Charles," at this Kathyrn dug her nails in, which he could feel even through his suit jacket and shirt, "this is Erik Lehnsherr. Our new sheriff," she added pointedly.
Oh, Charles thought, automatically taking the hand held out for him to shake. "Hello, you," he said breathily, smiling his most charming smile.
"Pleasure," Erik Lehnsherr replied, curt, and oh my if his voice wasn't just as perfect as the rest of him.
"Is all mine, believe me," Charles said, stepping close.
Erik Lehnsherr's face remained impassive but if that wasn't a smile lurking at the corners of his eyes then Charles would bite his own tongue. Or Sheriff Lehnsherr's, he's not picky.
"You two know each other, then?" Kathryn's disappointment was almost palpable.
"He knocked me over this morning," Erik Lehnsherr said at the same time Charles replied with, "I saved his life earlier in the day."
"Do tell," Kathryn said.
"Saved my life?" Erik raised a dubious brow.
"Speeding chap on a motorbike," Charles confirmed. "You never thanked me for that, by the way."
"How impolite of me."
"I thought so. How about you make it up to me? Coffee tomorrow, say noon-ish? At the little cafe where I saved your life?"
A corner of that glorious mouth quirked in amusement. "That seems fair."
Charles shot him a coy look from beneath his lashes.
"You can let go of my hand now."
Charles blinked. Well, how embarrassing. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," he recovered, squeezing Erik Lehnsherr's hand one more time then pulling back - but not before leaving a last lingering caress to the palm of his hand.
The look Erik gave him in reply was very promising.
To say that they had coffee would have been a bit of an overstatement.
Erik had commendable willpower and had lasted all of forty-five minutes.
It couldn't be helped. Charles had worn his lucky blue shirt which brought out his eyes and his maroon cardigan which complemented his flushed complexion. He'd also ordered some cannoli to go with his espresso.
Erik was very reluctant to talk about himself, which could have been due to a natural recalcitrance or the way he was transfixed by Charles fellating cannoli whilst regaling him with stories of growing up in Westchester.
The man really hadn't stood a chance.
Erik brought Charles to his flat under the pretense of showing him his grandfather's antique chess set and while Charles was busy contemplating the next step in his seduction, Erik had firmly shut the front door and then proceeded to slam Charles up against it, kissing him to within an inch of his life.
Charles's first thought was on how fast he'd lost control of the situation. This was quickly superseded by how fantastic a kisser Erik was.
"You're a fucking shameless tease," Erik said when they finally came up for air, eyes focused on Charles's panting mouth.
As an experiment, Charles licked his lips.
Erik groaned and crushed their mouths together once again.
Charles grinned into the kiss only to moan helplessly seconds later when Erik reached down to palm his ass and press their bodies even closer.
Charles tightened his grip on Erik's hair and lifted a leg to wrap around Erik's waist and then it's just glorious, glorious friction.
Charles presses up into Erik, panting as Erik kisses down along his throat, arching his back when both of Erik's hands land on his ass.
"Fuck me," Charles says, rubbing wantonly back against Erik's hands.
Charles feels Erik huff out a laugh against his throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses up against the side of his neck. "I don't have. . ." he whispers to the skin behind Charles's ear.
In reply, Charles takes one of Erik's hands and guides it to his coat pocket where he'd stuffed lube and a line of condoms earlier this morning.
Erik pulls back, disbelief written plainly on his face and Charles just grins impishly back at him. "I'd have slicked myself up this morning but you strike me as a man who'd enjoy doing it himself."
And then Charles is being manhandled the few feet to the couch, Erik pushing his coat off his shoulders and trying to undo his trousers while Charles kicks his shoes off and trips all over himself in the process.
They manage to land on the couch and Charles pulls Erik in for another kiss. Erik smells wonderful, Charles thinks absently, spreading his legs and not at all helping Erik take his trousers off.
"Fuck," Erik says, breaking the kiss and Charles makes a disgruntled noise, trying to pull Erik back to him but Erik resists. "Fucking unbelievable," Erik mutters, pulling Charles's trousers down past his hips.
"Erik," Charles whines, rubbing a thumb against Erik's lower lip.
"The fucking nerve of you," Erik says almost fondly because he's just found out that Charles had decided to forgo underwear for the day.
"Not completely unfounded," Charles says, smug, only to have his grin wiped off his face when Erik takes him by the hips and proceeds to give him the filthiest blowjob of his life.
"Oh!" Charles breathes, arching up into the wet heat of Erik's mouth only to find that he can't actually move very much, Erik's got such a firm grip on his hips, and that just drives Charles completely wild.
One hand buries itself in Erik's hair while the other goes to his own mouth, and he's sucking greedily on his own fingers, shamelessly making pornographic noises.
Erik pulls off and Charles whines.
"Jesus," Erik mutters, licking at the join between Charles's hip and thigh.
Charles takes his fingers out of his mouth, only to trail them down his chest, past his cock, and rubs the wet tips against his hole.
"More," he commands and there's a bitten off curse from Erik and then he's being pulled to the edge of the sofa, his legs thrown over Erik's shoulders and his fingers are being pushed away and then Erik's laving at him with his tongue. There really isn't anything Charles can do but clutch him close, both hands buried in Erik's hair as he tries to press himself closer than humanly possible.
He feels himself open up against Erik's persistent mouth and he's babbling nonsense as his fingers dig hard into Erik's scalp.
He's close, he can feel it, and maybe Erik does too because he pulls off and Charles cries out, gasping, saying, "No, no, no," over and over.
Erik slides up, panting heavily, persistent even as Charles tries to push him back down to where he should be.
"Please," Charles whispers, meets Erik's eyes. Erik looks about as wrecked as he feels, rubs their open panting mouths against each other.
"I thought you wanted me to fuck you," Erik manages between breaths and Charles feels the wet head of his cock rub up against him and he aches.
"Yes - yes," Charles nods, frantic, fingers clenching and unclenching in Erik's hair.
There's the sound of the condom wrapper tearing and the sound of Erik slicking himself up. The tip of one finger presses up against Charles and Charles thrashes, shaking his head.
"Don't need it; I'm ready," he says, wrapping a leg around Erik's waist. "Now, please, now."
"Fuck," Erik says but complies and it's wonderful and it aches so good and Charles is ecstatic, feels it all the way to his lungs.
Erik doesn't move right away, stays pressed deep in him until he can't take it. He rocks his hips down and Erik's grip against his hip tightens. "Stop."
"No," Charles mouths against his cheek. "Move, please. I need you to - please."
Erik groans, takes Charles's mouth in a kiss that pushes all the air out of his body before he braces his feet against the floor, his hands against the back of the sofa.
Then he starts fucking Charles, deep and hard and fast.
Erik receives a call in the middle of round two.
"Yeah," he says into the phone, blunt and focused and not at all like a man who has his fingers pressed up deep in Charles's arse.
Charles can vaguely hear a voice on the other line - equally curt. A bit miffed, Charles starts back up moaning shamelessly loud.
Erik shoots him an exasperated look. Charles grins up at him impishly, throws his head back and opens his mouth for another bout of impertinent noises, only to feel Erik's hand cover his mouth.
He glares up at Erik instead and Erik smirks at him, mobile wedged between shoulder and ear while his fingers stroke against Charles. Charles moans helplessly, glaring balefully at Erik's smug face before deciding on retaliation by licking at the hand covering his mouth and then sucking on Erik's fingers.
Erik shakes his head, wry, and Charles smirks back.
Charles's lashes flutter close, feeling lush and content at being so full.
"Yeah. Okay. Give me ten," Erik says before pulling his hand away from Charles's mouth to toss his mobile on his bedside table.
"One more for the road?" Charles cajoles, leaning up to mouth at Erik's jaw and clenching hard around his fingers.
"Can't," Erik says in what must be an apologetic tone for him, pulling his fingers out, a long slick glide.
Charles whimpers and arches his back, trying for enticing but mostly just protesting the sudden emptiness.
"You're making this really difficult," Erik says, patting his thigh consolingly.
"It's really quite simple," Charles pouts. "Ten minutes."
But Erik's already up and out of bed, pulling a change of clothes from his closet.
Charles decides that a full-scale assault is in order. "Are you sure?" he says, spreading his knees wide and trailing his fingers down the inside of his thigh, gathering the slick that's trickling out of him.
Erik's pulling his clothes on with astonishing speed and efficiency but he's staring at the space between Charles's legs, rapt.
"Really, darling," Charles says, throwing his head back as he pushes his fingers into himself. He lets out a breathy moan. "All you'd have to do is unzip. I promise I won't even get your clothes dirty."
"You're the devil," Erik says, voice hoarse, and Charles would take that for victory if it wasn't followed by the sound of Erik doing up his belt.
"I need to go."
Charles sighs and wraps a hand around his cock. "Alright then," he says dismissively, working himself back on his fingers and stroking himself off.
Charles peers at Erik balefully out of one eye. "I'll let myself out when I'm done. Leave me your key and I'll lock up."
Erik stares at him for a long moment and then quickly moves to his side to give him the most breathtaking, promising kiss of his life. "Impossible," he huffs out against Charles's abused mouth when he pulls back.
Charles pouts up at him from beneath his lashes.
Erik strokes his cheek with one thumb, kissing him on the forehead and then he's gone, the front door slamming shut behind him.
Charles sighs in disappointment, pulling his fingers out and stroking absently at his sore rim. He turns over and buries his face in the sheets, breathing in deep, and everything smells like Erik and it's wonderful and frustrating in turns and he proceeds to rub one off with his face pressed up against the pillows, back arched - presenting himself to no one while thinking meanly that Erik knows what he's missing and is all the more wretched for it.
He snuggles up in bed for a bit after that, luxuriating and riding the wave of contentment before curiosity gets the better of him.
He slips out of bed, groaning with his first few steps, smiling privately to himself at the feel of being very well used. He stretches absently as he walks to Erik's closet, sliding the door open and peering in.
It isn't very interesting - all blacks and greys and browns and whites and the occasional muted blue. They're all well made and serviceable and Charles selects a white dress shirt and a pair of jogging bottoms and slips them on.
There really isn't much else in Erik's bedroom save a lamp, the wardrobe and the bed itself (which Charles peered underneath just to make sure). He decamps to the en suite bathroom and finds it just as ascetic. There's a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo in the shower and a single toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, shaving cream, a razor and a bottle of aftershave on the bathroom counter.
Charles is somewhat disappointed.
He does, however, unscrew the cap of Erik's aftershave and take a whiff.
He moves to the living area after that, poking around the sofa cushions and making a moue of distaste at the shoddy, generic furniture. There aren't any magazines, books or DVDs to be seen and when he flips on the telly, he shakes his head in disbelief because the man doesn't even have cable.
Terrible, that a man as handsome and good in bed as Erik is would be so horrendously dull.
He does pocket the key left behind on the coffee table, though.
He expects more of the same when he makes his way to the kitchen. There's only milk in the refrigerator and a neat stack of frozen dinners in the freezer. Boring, boring, boring.
There's a decent Saeco espresso machine on the countertop, at least, and a dozen bags of Colombian beans in one of the cupboards.
Not completely hopeless, then.
Charles starts pulling open drawers, finding them all empty, before hitting the motherlode that's in the oven.
There are two hardshell cases - one on each rack - both extremely heavy when Charles pulls them out and sets them on the table. He flicks the latch open and his eyes widen when he sees what he can only suppose to be a disassembled sniper's rifle. He moves to open the other case and inside are more guns of different sizes.
A little more snooping and he comes up with an old folded photograph tucked in between the foam and hard casing. It's a picture of a group of men in fatigues, grinning at the camera. Closer inspection marks Erik to be one of the men in the photo.
"Oh, dear," Charles singsongs to himself, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as he starts putting everything back in place. "I've never been so egregiously proven wrong before."