Charles might not have thought it through, or possibly asking for Raven's help had been where he'd gone wrong.
Long story short, Charles had completely forgotten about the faculty's secret santa - possibly he would have obsessed more about it if he hadn't had to grade the ton of papers that he had. Especially since his recipient had been one Erik Lehnsherr, who was not only fairly new to the faculty, but also unfairly attractive if anyone asked Charles. Not that anyone had, because although he flirted plenty, he had gotten an unfair reputation for being a tease. Which he took offence to. He just didn't have time to follow through and besides, since when was it a crime to be nice to people? It wasn't his fault that some people took this as flirting.
Hence, the day before, Raven had asked him what the note on the calendar on the fridge was all about. After staring at the santa hat sticker, Charles had finally remembered. The secret santa exchange. And then the panic had set in, Raven had waved a hand in his face and told him she'd be happy to shop for him. If he had any preferences? And he'd said, no, not really, reining in his telepathy as he could tell from her overbearing expression that he was projecting the stress.
He had been so deep in the grading and the calls from the lab with the results of one of his and Hank's experiments, that he'd completely forgotten it. At least until he came into work the next day, saw the table with all the parcels already piled up. Charles felt his heart sink. He'd forgotten to get the present off Raven, hadn't he? Opening his bag, he realized there, sitting on top of his books, was a neatly wrapped parcel. Sending a mental hug-n-thank-you to Raven, he dug it out and added it to the pile. He wanted to either tap Raven mentally or text her to ask what she had gotten for him, but decided against it. She was his sister, he should just trust her.
Of course this would be the one situation where she would prove him terribly wrong.
The secret santa presents were not to be given out until the end of the day. Once the students were heading home, the staff would be getting together and there would be eggnog and mulled wine. It was something Charles genuinely looked forward to. Not only for the booze, but the buzz from everyone because school would be out for the holidays and there would be nothing, at least for him, to grade. It meant focusing on experiments and lab time for himself and generally flexing his mental skills around genetics studies, maybe even getting some of his writing done.
The secret santa exchange was never more than a blip on his radar, but as the time drew near for the parcels to go to their recipients, Charles began to get that god-awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. The tag on the present was at least written in Raven's handwriting and not Charles' so even if the gift was something embarrassing, Charles would just have to keep a straight face through the whole event.
He was doomed.
The eggnog warmed him from the inside and he stopped trying to put an entire room between himself and Lehnsherr. He was a grown man, he had dealt with his own mutant powers since childhood and he should be capable of keeping his stupid attraction away from the public, right? Loosening up, Charles actually managed to engage in some interesting discussions with some of the others. Ororo, as always, was a delight. As was Moira. The two of them were to thank for his position at the school, as well. They had never lost touch since university and had talked about a school centered on mutants and their needs since. This wasn't quite it, but when Ororo had gotten Moira into St. Martin's School and then the two had dragged Charles along, it may not have been that dream, but it came pretty damned close.
His nerves around Lehnsherr should also not be influenced by Moira trying to get him to engage the man about their future plans, because she felt that he would not only approve, but probably join them. According to her, she might not be a mutant, but she could smell like minded people a mile off.
Which was the point where Charles normally told her she was full of shite.
It didn't change the fact that Charles got a little tongue tied around the man and became even more annoyed with himself. Which in turn meant that Lehnsherr had taken to shooting him weird looks and possibly avoiding Charles as well.
Some days Charles hated his life.
The punch wasn't too bad, though judging from the buzz Charles got off half a glass and the second-hand buzz he was getting off everyone else, someone had spiked it - possibly more than one person, because that stuff had lethal amounts of alcohol in it.
Setting his cup of half drunk punch down on a table, Charles circled the table of presents, wondering again what Raven had bought on his behalf. He managed to hold out through two conversations with Moira and Ororo - both women shooting him strange looks, before it was finally time to get the presents sorted.
It took five seconds of staring in horror as Lehnsherr unwrapped and held up a garter belt and purple matching flimsy something. Then Charles was out the door, phone in one hand and steering himself back to his office which had a door he could close and lock.
He lamented the fact, as he leaned against the locked door, that he had not grabbed some of the punch because right that very moment, he really needed the alcohol.
Holding up his phone, he shot a text off to Raven.
Did you put the wrong gift in my bag?
Her reply came horrifyingly quickly.
No, got a 2-for-1 deal when shopping for Irene.
Charles stared in horror at the phone display, willing the message to change. Which it of course did not.
I told you, was for Lehnsherr, Charles typed frantically.
Yes, she replied, rather unhelpful.
Charles growled and was about to call her to yell at her when his phone pinged with another message from her.
I'm pretty sure it fits. I have an eye for details.
A strange noise tore Charles from his meltdown and he realized that it was his own wheezing. How the hell…?
Booze. He might have some in the bottom drawer of his desk. Which was a stupid thought, he realized as he staggered forward to check. This was the school, it wasn't allowed. The eggnog and punch at the christmas party was the exception to the rule. He dropped into his seat, leaned his arms on the desk and buried his face in them.
It was his own fault. He knew Raven's sense of humour and tendencies towards pranks. Especially if she could get one up on him. Possibly it was payback for years of Charles having pranked her during their childhood.
Of course he'd have thought this was beyond what she could have come up with. Even though she didn't know just how attracted he was to Lehnsherr, that had been a rotten move from her.
Charles had no idea for how long he hid in his office, but he eventually ventured out, heading towards one of the bathrooms to splash some much needed cold water in his face. He was trying so hard to not listen in on anyone in the faculty lounge, in fear of hearing someone guessing that the present had been from him.
Which of course proved to be his downfall, because he was so busy still berating himself for trusting Raven with this, not taking care of it himself, that he completely failed to notice that the lock of the bathroom was undoing itself and that he was suddenly no longer alone.
Looking up into the mirror, he would have sworn his heart skipped several beats when he found a looming shadow behind him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. One eyebrow rose and broke the stony faced expression on Lehnsherr's face.
"Any specific reason for running off so fast, Xavier?" he asked, voice completely even and controlled.
"Erm." Charles tried to find the words in his head and force them out through his mouth, but failed spectacularly.
Some genius he was.
Turning around, Charles meant to say something, anything, that might make Lehnsherr back off, but at the same time, Lehnsherr put his hands on either side of Charles, on the edge of the sink. Effectively trapping Charles in place.
Like a deer caught in the headlights, Charles thought, panic rising as he tried to think clearly enough to find a way to escape. He might have gotten his chance when Lehnsherr moved one hand and reached for his own trousers, but that move alone transfixed Charles and he failed at even trying to get away.
"You started this," Lehnsherr all but purred, dropping his trouser and they slid to the floor, pooling around his feet.
Charles could do nothing but stare. He had plenty of things on his list of what could make him hard, but he would have to add Erik Lehnsherr in a garter belt, straps hanging unattached to any stockings, against the pale skin of his thighs, offset against the masculine hairiness which only made it all the hotter. The deep purple of the silk underwear did nothing to hide how hard he was, nor that he was in fact leaking precome that made the garment cling to his rather large…
Lehnsherr cleared his throat and put his hand back on the sink, once again encasing Charles. Not that Charles was going anywhere. He was well and truly mesmerized. Before Lehnsherr could say anything, Charles slid to his knees, putting his hands on Lehnsherr's ridiculously narrow waist and without looking up, he buried his face against the damp patch.
A muttered curse from Lehnsherr almost made Charles pull back and look up, but the twitch of Lehnsherr's cock against his cheek was far more important. Charles turned his head a little and licked at the damp patch, marvelling at the taste and texture. Forgotten, at least for a few moments, were his worries about Lehnsherr. The man had put on the underwear. Not only had he not killed Charles for giving him lingerie for the secret santa exchange, but he had put it on!
Strong fingers dug into Charles' hair and that was all it took. Any second thoughts that might have crept into Charles' mind fled like shadows in strong light. Clawing at slippery garment, Charles managed to pull it down enough to free Lehnsherr's cock and while he could appreciate the visuals of it, he was far too driven by the urge to fit his mouth around it, to allow himself to admit that he'd had more than one wank thinking about doing this.
"Oh," Lehnsherr all but breathed above him. "That's the most amazingly, filthy images I've ever…"
Charles should have maybe considered that he was projecting his need and appreciation of Lehnsherr's cock to the other man, but he couldn't care less. Curling his fingers around the root of Lehnsherr's cock, he held it in place as he attempted to fit his mouth around as much of it as he could, reluctantly letting go of Lehnsherr's hip with the other as well to ram his hand down his own trousers.
It wouldn't take long, Charles had no illusions about that. His mouth full, the head of Lehnsherr's cock hitting the back of his throat a few times, his own erection warm and hard in his hand and the steel trap of Lehnsherr's mind leaking the most amazing visuals. All of them involving Charles in some state of undress, bent over various furniture.
Possibly it was the loop of his own fantasies and Lehnsherr's mixing together until there was no telling which belonged to what man that took the focus of Charles' attention. It meant his own climax took him by surprise, his breath stuttering around his mouthful, tongue dragging along the underside of Lehnsherr's cock and not caring one bit that he was probably, definitely, drooling.
"Fuck, Charles," Lehnsherr gasped above him, hands grabbing his head, trying to pull him back, but Charles would have none of it. Possibly he was failing to catch some of the come, but he didn't care, swallowing around the head of Lehnsherr's cock.
Eventually, he let Lehnsherr pull him back and to his feet, wiped his hand off in his shirt. If he hadn't been so blissed out by his own orgasm coupled with the same from Lehnsherr, who was somehow still mentally open to him, sharing his own surprised contentedness, he might have rediscovered his nervousness around the man.
As it were, he really didn't care about anything but Lehnsherr rearranging them with Charles pressed up against the sink, his arms around Charles' waist and his face against the side of Charles' head.
Charles closed his eyes and leaned into Lehnsherr… Erik, enjoying, for the first time, the opportunity to relax in the other man's company. However odd the current position might seem. And he couldn't really keep thinking of the man in terms of his last name. They had become awfully familiar within the last ten minutes, afterall. Erik's breath brushed against his ear and he couldn't quite help the shiver running down his spine.
"Can I ask you something?" Erik suddenly said, still leaning against Charles, not moving an inch.
"I just sucked you off in the bathroom at work during the Christmas party," Charles replied drily, "I think you're entitled to asking a few questions."
Erik's body shook with suppressed laughter. "In that case. Why did you run? Why do you always seem to avoid me? I mean, if this is what you really wanted?"
"Ah." Charles cleared his throat. "That."
"Yes, that," Erik repeated. "I mean, I obviously wanted this as much as you did, but every time I tried to speak to you, you ran away. A guy could get the idea you weren't interested."
Charles sighed. "Well, I may have been avoiding you because I wasn't sure if I wouldn't be projecting my attraction."
"I thought…," Erik trailed off. "Mactaggert told me you had impeccable control."
It was Charles' turn to laugh. "She's not wrong, but if I get nervous, I worry about losing that control, just a little, and that in turn makes me more nervous, etc."
"You spoke to Moira about me?" Charles asked before he could stop himself.
"She's been trying to get me to ask you out a couple of times," Erik admitted. "Although I never really believed her when she was pushing for it, telling me you were interested. You, she and Monroe are a bit of a legend, you know."
"We are?" Charles asked surprised.
"Yes," Erik rubbed his hand up and down the small of Charles' back. "What the three of you are trying to do is admirable." He chuckled. "Although I never expected Mactaggert to be quite so strange."
"In what way?" Charles asked, shifting his stance and suddenly realising that Erik's trousers were still pooled around his feet. His own cock twitched valiantly, bringing his focus back to the cooling mess in his boxers.
"She guessed that the present was from you," Erik explained, "which in itself was a bit odd. She then told me to follow you. And that's when it took a turn for the odd."
"What did she do?" Charles asked.
"She told me to consider you a rare pokemon and go get you." Erik paused for a moment, confusion evident in his voice. "Whatever that meant."
Charles buried his face against Erik's shoulders, trying hard not to laugh. "I'm sorry - if you stick around long enough, you'll get used to the weird pop cultural references."
"Are you?" Charles asked carefully, not putting too much of his hopes into his question.
"What?" Erik asked.
"Going to stick around?" Because if he wasn't...
"I don't know," Erik said, teasing now obvious in his voice. "Why did you buy me lingerie and how come it fits?"
Charles felt his face heat. "I was swamped with work and forgot about the present and my sister offered to get it for me. I didn't expect her to buy lingerie. She did know it was for you and I can't believe you wore it." The last came out more awed than Charles had intended and with more heat as well. Good god, not only had he given the man lingerie but Erik had worn it.
"Sister?" Erik's fingers brushed against the waistband of Charles' trousers.
"Raven," Charles managed to say, suddenly very aware of the tips of Erik's fingers slipping under the waistband.
"She wouldn't happen to be the girlfriend of Irene Adler, would she?" Erik asked drily.
Charles finally pulled back a little, looking up at Erik in surprise. The man looked all lose and yes, like he'd just been blown in the bathroom. "You know her?"
"I know Irene quite well, and have met Raven a few times," Erik said with a huff of laughter. "That would explain why Irene couldn't stop laughing every time she's looked at me the past few weeks. We are in the same M children's support group and meet every Thursday."
Charles focused on this for a moment, suddenly remembering what Irene's gift was. "Premonition."
"Yes," Erik agreed, tilting his head a little, eyes straying to Charles' lips. "She may also have known that I was interested in someone at work. Not that I told her who."
Charles opened his mouth to ask just that question, then shut it again, feeling a bit stupid. "May I kiss you?" he asked instead, holding his breath for a moment. That wasn't what he'd meant to ask.
"You just blew me in the bathroom at work during the Christmas party," Erik said drily, "after giving me sexy lingerie which I am wearing for you…" He left this hanging for a moment, accompanied by a raised eyebrow.
Charles grinned and leaned in to kiss him, for once not afraid that he'd leak his attraction to Erik. Maybe he should thank his sister. After he'd yelled at her.
"Mmm, focus on me instead," Erik muttered between kisses. "Stop thinking about your sister."
"Sorry," Charles muttered, feeling Erik undo his trousers and deciding any revenge on his sister could wait.
"Exactly," Erik mumbled and let Charles' trousers fall to the floor.