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Showers on a Thursday Morning (The Asking for It Remix)

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“Huh,” says Erik, thoughtfully.

“If you’re not interested--” Charles says quickly.

Erik shakes his head. “It’s not that.” It’s not that Erik’s not interested. He’d just never really thought about that particular kink before.

Actually, now that Erik is thinking about it, it sounds kind of hot.

“You don’t have to humor me,” Charles mutters, his face turning red.

Erik rolls his eyes before leaning down and kisses one of his boyfriend’s freckled shoulders. “I’m not humoring you, you idiot. It sounds interesting. Let’s try it.”

Charles grins, and reaches for him, and Erik grins back, and then ---

Charles’ phone goes off, the Pokemon theme playing jauntily.

“Did you let David pick your ringtone again?” Erik snickers.

“Like you can talk, Mr. Steven Universe,” Charles shoots back, as he picks up.

Erik sighs, and reaches for his pants. So much for getting laid today.



What with kid-wrangling and various and assorted summer activity stuff, and setting up childcare for, and all the other bullshit that goes into being parents, Erik and Charles don’t get a chance to meet up again until two weeks later on a Thursday morning. (They’ve haven’t gone that long without sex, of course, but this is going to require some preparation, and also time.)

They’re at Charles’ place, which has a huge, luxurious accessible tub with jets and one of those detachable hose-showerhead things which probably have another name but Erik can’t recall it.

Anyway, it’s basically perfect for what they have in mind.

Of course, it takes them like an hour to figure out how to attach one of Charles’ fuckslings to the sides of the tub, and then Charles and Erik argue over whether or not they should put plastic over it (Charles thinks they can just clean it later, and after all, he’s the one who has to sit on the plastic and have it stick to his skin; Erik might be willing to try out this kink but he has standards of cleanliness, Charles), and by the end of it they are shouting at each other.

Shouting is basically foreplay for them, anyway.

“You are the most stubborn, infuriating -- mmmmff!!!!” Charles says, or tries to, at least. Erik has always found shutting up his partners with a kiss to be super effective.

--- man, and another thing, Erik, you aren’t going to distract me from my point with your wiles Charles continues seamlessly, despite Erik having his tongue down Charles’ throat.

Right. Telepath.

It’s hilarious how you keep forgetting that, darling

Shut up, Charles, Erik thinks fondly. Unless you don’t want me pissing on you today.

You’re always free to say no, Charles tells him. Ongoing, enthusiastic consent is very important to me, and I hope to you, too.

How does he manage to sound prim and yet filthy at the same time? Why does Erik find it such a turn on?


Consent is not the problem. The problem is that despite discussing this extensively beforehand, not to mention drinking a fuckton of water, now that it’s do or die time, Erik finds himself unable to get started.

Erik grinds his teeth in frustration. This isn’t some creepy stranger in a shady bathroom, this is Charles. His boyfriend. This isn’t even the weirdest thing they’ve ever done before. What is his problem? Why won’t this work?

Don’t,” he grits out as Charles parts his lips, about to speak. Charles snaps his mouth shut.

Erik tries for a few more minutes before sighing in defeat, and slight humiliation. He’s never had problems like this before.

The silence stretches out, painfully awkward. It’s almost unbearable.

“I could help you,” Charles suggests gently.

“By what, turning on a faucet?” snaps Erik.

“No, by --” and here Charles waggles his fingers, vaguely in the direction of his temple.

Oh -- oh.


“Yeah -- “ Erik licks his lips. “Yes. Yes, let’s try that.”


Charles’ mental touch is feather light, delicate, like snowflakes landing on the back of Erik’s hand, but warm and welcoming.

It’s almost like he’s untangling a knot, teasing something open, and --

Erik gasps, bracing himself on the walls as his piss comes out in a swift stream, all over Charles’ chest.

And it’s nothing Erik had ever thought of on his own, and he’d been happy to do this for Charles, but, but --

-- Just, the look on Charles’ face, as Erik’s piss hits him and trickles down his body, just --

And there’s something so primal about doing this to Charles, marking him like this, marking Charles as his --

-- And Charles just keeps looking like that, like he’s fucking enraptured.

Almost as soon as he’s done pissing, Erik is harder than he’s ever been in his life.

Charles beckons him forward and Erik sways on his feet, close enough for Charles to reach out and grab his cock and take the head in his mouth. Erik whimpers as Charles’ tongue plays with his slit, trying to chase out the last few drops of urine.

Erik’s toes curl as Charles fondles his balls, and he whimpers again.

Yes, that’s right, give it to me, my good boy, give me what I want, give me what’s mine Charles’ littany of demands in Erik’s head makes Erik want to fall to his knees and bare his neck and give Charles everything he’s ever wanted and above all be a good boy --

Charles clamps down, and Erik groans, thwarted, on edge, flushed and vibrating with need.

Oh darling he hears, we’ve only just started. You won’t be coming for a very, very long time yet.

Erik whines.


Some time later after very rewarding sex and a nice long shower, they collapse next to each other on Charles’ bed.

“Well, we’ve satisfied one of my more debauched kinks,” says Charles, idly running his fingers through Erik’s hair. “I suppose I owe you one.” He winks at Erik, and Erik blushes. “Anything you’ve been wanting to try?”

He doesn’t even have to think about it. “How do you feel,” Erik says slowly, “about tentacles?”

“Metal ones,” he adds.

Charles’ grin gets impossibly bigger.