moonlettuce: (X-Men: FC: Charles v1)
[personal profile] moonlettuce
Title: Last Fire
Author: Claire
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing(s): Erik Lehnsherr / Charles Xavier
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 531
Summary: The blood sings to Erik...
Additional Notes: Written for [personal profile] beren_writes for [community profile] fandom_stocking, but may also be appropriated for [community profile] trope_bingo.

Erik's fingers tangle in Charles's hair, tugging his head back.

"Erik--" The name is a quiet whisper, a shudder on Charles's breath as Erik licks a stripe across his neck, Charles's pulse beating a rapid tattoo under his tongue.

"Charles-- Charles, let me--" It's halfway between a command and a plea, because Erik needs this. He needs Charles under him, heady and powerful. He can feel the blood in Charles's veins, feel the iron singing to him a soft siren call.

Charles nods, and Erik's not sure if the yes comes from Charles's lips or from his mind, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter where the word came from, just that he has it.

The taste of Charles's skin is perfect under Erik's tongue, sweet and addictive, and the need thrumming through him makes his teeth lengthen until they're two sharp points of contact against Charles's neck.

There are fingers wrapped around his arm, the warmth from Charles's body seeping into his own. Charles's grip on him tightens as Erik bites down, piercing the skin under his mouth, but he knows whatever bruises Charles may have just caused will be gone within minutes.

It take a second, a beat of a heart not his own, before the taste hits Erik. Warm and thick and sublime as it floods his mouth, coating his teeth and tongue. And Erik knows he can never give this up, not now that he's tasted Charles. Can never give up Charles shivering in his arms as Erik drinks from him, can never give up the feel of Charles hard against him, rubbing against Erik's thigh, each movement perfectly mirroring the lap of Erik's tongue against the twin holes now adorning Charles's neck.


Erik's name on Charles's lips is the answer to a question that has haunted Erik since arms first wrapped around him in a cold, cold ocean. It's confirmation, permission and invitation all wrapped up in Charles.

Dropping his hand to the front of Charles's trousers, Erik presses against the hardness he finds, rewarding the resultant gasp with another stroke over the cloth holding Charles from him.

It's only when Erik hears the low keening in Charles's throat that he pulls his mouth away Charles's neck, lips stained with red and sin and perfection.

"Come for me, Charles--" Erik murmurs, a final push against Charles's covered erection making the man arch into Erik's embrace, warm wetness blossoming under Erik's fingers.

A moment passes and Erik can feel as Charles releases his arms, fingers sluggish in their movements, before they steal lower, towards Erik's crotch. And as much as Erik wants Charles wrapped around him, he can wait.

Catching Charles's fingers in his own, he lifts Charles's hand to his mouth, kissing his wrist before licking away the blood left behind by the gesture.

"Later, Charles," Erik murmurs, his voice soft and low.

Later, when Charles has had time to recover. Later, when Erik can lay him down and take him apart. Later, when Erik can bury himself in Charles until he's so far inside the other man will never be rid of him


Erik's already looking forward to it.


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May 2017

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