According to @accio-my-childhood I just wrote myself my very first tender and subtle Cherik smut ficlet. I guess I should be really proud of this?
“What do you want, Charles?” Erik tightens his grip on Charles’ hips while slowly rubbing his thumbs on the other’s hip bones. After hours of heated argument, he now somehow finds himself with the most infuriating telepath in his lap. Out of a thousand possibilities of tonight’s debate, Erik did not imagine this. Charles’ growing erection is rubbing against his own and it’s becoming too much to bear. His heart is pounding in his ear, his face all flushed and sweaty. Charles looks no different. His hands are cold and sweaty on Erik’s shoulder. It takes every ounce of his self-control not to just ignore the other and do exactly what his body is telling him to do.
This was something I had written ages ago and forgot to post. Inspired by @cherik-trash-pile’s post about how Erik had only kissed a handful of women and fewer men. The post itself is so old that I couldn’t find it to reblog. I tried but alas… it’s lost to the labyrinth of my Tumblr
Charles stills. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, taking a step back and dropping his hands from Erik’s face.
Erik looks hesitant, brows furrowed and his flat lips pressed further into a thin line.
Erik is the most confident man Charles knows, be it in movement or thought. He’s straightforward and presses on without a sliver of doubt in his mind. This image of Erik however, is befitting him- uncertain and unsure.
‘I’m not used to this,’ Erik says staring at the thick oak door to his left as if contemplating flight.
This? Had Charles misread the situation? Had Erik not been interested in him during all those days spent together travelling across the country and finding mutants? He wouldn’t have pulled Erik into an empty room in the middle of training like a love-struck teenager otherwise.
A ghastly fear flows through him. Was the warmth in Erik’s lingering gazes on him a fragment of his imagination? A child of his fantasies? Was his approach unwelcome? Was he unwelcome?
The flare of desire in his mind sours and Charles quickly retreats his hands to lock behind him while his legs carry him away from Erik. He stops when his back hits a wall. Unable to fix his eyes on Erik’s twisted face, Charles trains his sight to the gold rimmed oil portrait of Richard Xavier hanging on the wall behind. His great Grandfather’s blue eyes bore down on him reproachfully.
‘Why did you back off?’ Erik asks, and when Charles forces his sight back on Erik, the latter’s face is still twisted.
Charles winces. ‘I can’t begin to apologise, my friend,’ he says, voice strained into a plea, ‘I thought that the interest was mutual. If only had I known that this isn’t what you wanted, I would have stayed aw-’
’-Urgh,’ Erik groans, cutting Charles’ frantic apology. 'You’re just as bad as me. Aren’t you?’ He huffs, a side of his mouth lifting up crookedly in dry amusement. 'For somebody who prides on knowing everything, you are just as clueless as I am.’
'Oh,’ Charles says dumbly for the lack of a response. While it’s a relief that Erik hadn’t fled the minute he had stepped back, he still doesn’t know what to make of this situation he’s gotten himself into. Maybe Erik is right. Maybe he doesn’t know as much as he claims to.
The amusement fades from Erik’s features and a seriousness replaces it. 'What I meant to say is that I’m not used to this.’ Erik motions his hand between the two of them as if it’s explanation enough.
'This?’ Charles parrots, cursing internally at the instability in his voice. 'As in… intimacy with men?’ Charles had feared as much. It certainly does justify Erik’s behaviour.
Erik groans again. 'No Charles! I’ve fucked enough people before- men and women, if that’s what you’re meaning to ask.’
Charles’ face heats at Erik’s bluntness.
'I meant,’ says Erik, the air and confidence with which he had uttered his previous statement lost to the wind. 'I meant that I’m not used to…’ He uncharacteristically ducks his head and mutters: ‘kissing.’
'Oh!’ relief floods through Charles. While Erik still looks uncertain and unsure saying it, Charles realises that he doesn’t mind at all because a beautiful blush engulfs Erik’s face.
'That can be fixed. I’m quite experienced in that area,’ Charles provides with a fond smile. His mind urges him to close the distance between them and prove to Erik as much, but he stays rooted to the spot, giving Erik the space; lest he scare Erik for real this time.
Clearing his throat, Erik slowly walks towards him, his eyes stopping everywhere but on his face. With awkward moves and hesitant touches, Erik gets his hands between the wall and Charles’ back while Charles slowly loops his arms around Erik’s neck and stays. It’s Erik who draws him in.
The first brush of lips is quick and chaste, too chaste, in fact, for Charles’ liking. And when they pull back, they gaze into each other’s eyes before dissolving into nervous giggles.
Charles smears his sweaty palms on Erik’s broad shoulders. This is like his first kiss all over again- fumbling timidly in an Oxford dorm.
The second kiss however, takes Charles by surprise, for Erik coaxes Charles’ lips to part and slips his tongue into his mouth in a sinuous glide. Charles moans at the contact and tightens his arms around Erik’s shoulders, drawing the latter further into his arms. Like everything else the man does, Erik kisses him with acute concentration, like Charles is a problem to be dealt with. That thought alone makes Charles whimper into Erik’s mouth.
In sharp contrast to the insistent swipes of Erik’s tongue in his mouth, the metal bender rubs his wide palm on the small of his back in gentle circles. The action is so distrait that Charles’ heart weighs a little more in his chest.
When they part for air, Charles has to remind himself to breath. If Erik hadn’t held him firmly, he’s sure his wobbly knees would have given out.
'That was-’ Charles says between drawing lungfuls of air, 'amazing!’
'Really?’ Erik asks, face etched in genuine disbelief and hope. Erik’s expression is so raw and open and miles away from his stern self that Charles wants to kiss him again just for it. Instead, he projects the still lingering dizziness in his mind to Erik.
Erik’s hands tighten around his back and a bright blush spreads across his face. Of course, Erik lacks finesse and patience, but there is nothing that can’t be perfected with practice.
'Practice. Yes,’ Erik parrots, 'I should be practising.’ Oh dear, he still must be projecting then.
Charles tip-toes and leans further into Erik. 'I can help you with that,’ he whispers hotly against Erik’s ear and revels in the shiver that runs down the latter’s back.
Beyond Erik’s head, he locks eyes with his great Grandfather. Grinning, Charles winks and pulls Erik down for another dizzying kiss.
Richard Xavier watches mutely as the sounds of moans and pants devour the room.
Charles fell in love with a human boy, who lied beautifully to him and left him for dead in a forest in Genosha. Blinded by heartbreak, when the human boy became king of the neighboring land of Westchester and had a son, Charles cursed the child with eternal sleep. But Charles meets the child, watches him grow up, and finds himself making a terrible mistake…
“I just really need to have you here right now.” and cherik what else
For a moment, Charles rubbed his cheek against his pillow and slowly spread his arm across the sheets, feeling the softness and the warmth, content to stay in the comfort of his bed, but he soon opened his eyes and frowned, confused by the empty spot beside him. He blinked a few times, eyes gradually adjusting to the morning light, the blurry silhouette before him coming into focus.
So there he was, sliding the glass door open with elegant hands, quiet as always, ready to leave without saying goodbye…
He needed to see him. Even if it was just to be screamed at, to be hit, to be absolutely hated. He needed to see him.
Erik was suddenly startled out of his thoughts by the sound of glass shattering. Charles stood before him, staring at him blankly, blue eyes wide, his drink now a puddle spreading across the floor. His face was impossible to read, emotion everywhere and nowhere all at once. He remained silent, just staring. Any plans Erik once had about what he was going to say to Charles were gone, forgotten, replaced by a sharp pain in his stomach and a feeling as though all the breath had been knocked out of him. Seconds could have passed, minutes, hours, days.
It’s his bloody associates’ fault. All of this is. When he thought that these idiots could handle a high profile case, he should have thought harder. Maybe the feeling would have passed.
There’s a monstrous headache housed in one side of his head. Migraine, he remembers. He’s been working for sixteen hours straight and not slept in what feels like days. He hates leaving the calm confines of his office. The calm helps him think.
Instead, he’s in the bullpen. Working his way through a crooked stack of files. Transporting files and people responsible for them to and from his office a few floors up had seemed like a waste of time. Thankfully, the din that envelopes the bullpen had reduced to a low murmur on his arrival.
Every Time an intern had approached him offering food, he would simply look at them and they would scamper away. If Emma would classify his looks as office harassment, well… it was her prerogative.
He itches for a cigarette. He can’t concentrate without it. His mind whirls with the raging headache. He’s drained two ounces of coffee already and it hasn’t helped. Back when he used to smoke and were he to be still in office at this time, he would sneak out for a quick fag.
Now, he simply looks longingly at the smoking lounge towards his right. He had gone cold turkey when he had quit. It was tougher than he had thought it would be. He can see two or three people thought the glass doors, framing the metal railing and puffing white smoke into the chill air. He doesn’t have a cigarette on him. But he could always borrow. Charles always pesters him to befriend people. Maybe tobacco could become the medium.
His attention is drawn back to his desk, where his mobile chimes with a text. Sighing, he opens it to find that it is from Charles. It simply says, left outer pocket of your coat.
He immediately reaches for his coat, draped on the back of his chair and retrieves what appears to be a pack of nicotine gums. Quit if for the children Love, Charles had said.
With a sudden clarity of mind, he puts the strip of gum back into it’s place, picks up his phone and heads for the balcony towards his left.
The natural air is refreshing, he fills his lungs with it and hits the call button. A picture of Charles plastered to the twins on either side appears on the screen. The trio are grinning and at him and without him realising, Erik is smiling as well.
‘Hello Husband.’ He can feel Charles’ smile just through his voice. ‘Did you find the gum?’
'Did you use them?’
'Where are you?’
'The bullpen. Thankfully, Az is handling the others.’
Charles’ voice is smug when he says, 'Good. It helps build team morale to know that you have their backs if need be.’
Charles’ voice is better than any expensive coffee, he could drink it in all day and still long for more.
'What are the twins doing?’
'What are you doing?’
'Watching cartoons with them.’
A smiles blooms on his face. 'Of course you are,’ he hears himself saying.
'Now go and finish working on whatever you were in the middle of.’
'Why?’ he asks dumbly.
'So that you get back to us as soon as possible Love.’
And that is motivation enough.
Turns out he doesn’t need tobacco to clear his mind, talking to Charles worked just as well.
Because I’ve been stuck at work since 12 hours and the prospects of me getting out are dulling by the minute. I may not have a Charles to brighten my spirit but it needn’t be the case in my fic.
Summary: Soulmates AU where the mark is the first words said to the person’s soulmate, and the location is the first place they touch.
Erik was decidedly unhappy. His friends had been teasing him for an hour now, and he wasn’t certain it would ever truly stop. It was likely to be an ongoing joke. And it had all started because the group had insisted on skinny dipping.
It had been two hours since the trio had seen his soulmark, and Erik had decided that he would fair better sitting off to the side, away from them. Of course, Emma wasn’t about to allow his brooding to continue for too long. She insisted that it was bad for his skin.
“Don’t say it,” Erik warned.
Emma was silent for another ten seconds. Erik had actually counted down to a T. “At least they compliment you.” Hooting laughter at overhearing the remark resounded over the otherwise silent lake.
My work. First ever in this fandom. Finally got the courage to post something. Here on AO3.
For a prompt I found somewhere a while ago: “On Christmas morning Charles is leaning casually on the kitchen doorway reading a book, acting like he doesn’t know there is a mistletoe right above his head. Erik walks past him mumbling sleepily "your book is upside down”.
Charles is feeling giddy.
It’s Christmas morning and he’s excited like a little kid. Today he is up before Erik, which is quite a success, because Erik is out of bed at the crack of dawn if you ask Charles.
He left Erik asleep in bed and tiptoed into their shared wardrobe to put on his favourite fuzzy Christmas socks, with little reindeers on them, warm red and green plaid pajama pants and one of Erik’s thick turtlenecks.
When he emerged from the closet, Erik was still asleep. He moved to Charles’ side of the bed, hugging his pillow. Charles smiled fondly at the sight and moved towards the door. He ran to the kitchen to prepare his little surprise before Erik woke up.
Stepping into the kitchen, Charles went straight for the junk drawer, where he hid the mistletoe. He knew Erik wouldn’t find it there. He grabbed the mistletoe and some tape from the drawer and then took the chair to the doorway. He had just finished hanging it, when he heard Erik’s faint: “Charles”, from the bedroom.
He jumped down and put the chair back at the table, simultaneously grabbing a book from the counter. Charles leaned against the doorway, right under the mistletoe and opened the book, pretending to read. Right at that moment Erik emerges from their bedroom, wearing nothing but black briefs.
Charles pretends to ignore Erik, while he’s coming closer. Erik walks past Charles rubbing his eyes and just when Charles is about to stop him, he mumbles: “Your book is upside down.”
Charles, caught off guard, just gapes at him, lowering his book. Erik walks into the kitchen and bursts out laughing.
“You complete asshole!” Charles stomps after him, throwing the book on the kitchen table. “How? When did you see it?”
Still laughing, Erik pulls Charles in his arms and kisses the top of his head. Charles’ arms go around Erik’s waist without a thought and he buries his nose in Erik’s neck. Inhaling Erik’s scent he feels himself relaxing and looks up into Erik’s face.
Erik smiles tenderly down at him and bends slightly to drop a kiss on his nose.
“I’ve seen it right away when I walked out of bedroom. And”, he adds, now grinning, “you are really predictable, if I’m being honest.”
Charles eyes widen at this and he huffs at Erik, trying to worm his way out of Erik’s arms. Erik just laughs again and pulls him closer, whispering against his mouth.
I wrote this story as a distraction and because the fact that Charles met Erik on a beach in Israel is often forgotten!
‘Excuse me?’ Charles looks up from his newspaper while Raven flops down on the kitchen chair unceremoniously.
‘Something is worming its way through your head. So spill,’ she says throwing her legs over the kitchen table and crossing them at the ankles.
Charles scoffs. ‘And you know that because…’
‘… Because your face is like this-’ She scrunches her brows into deep valleys and trains her sight to the tip of her nose causing her pupils to stick to the inner edges of her eye sockets, all the while chewing on her bottom lip. She’s exaggerating, of course. There’s no way Charles would have looked that comical. ‘So spill.’
Charles sighs dropping the newspaper fully on the table and removes his glasses. She’s going to pull the information out of him by hook or crook. Might as well give it to her when she asks and save both of them the trouble.
‘It’s silly,’ he begins, the confession eliciting a scoff from his sister.
‘And since when has that stopped you from over thinking?’ she quips. Charles knows that she’s teasing, but that doesn’t stop him from picking an apple from the fruit bowl and throwing it in her direction. Much to his chagrin, she catches it from the air with a triumphant grin.
‘You know that I met Erik on a beach in Israel. Don’t you?’
‘Yes. You met him in his natural habitat. How could I not?’ She smirks around a bite of the fruit.
Charles ignores her allusion to Erik’s shark-like grin and continues, ‘Well, it was today, twenty five years ago. And every year since then, I have woken up to a note written by him. Nothing big; it’s always a little piece of paper declaring that he’ll never forget the day he met me. But this year… today…’ he trails off. Opposite to him, he can feel Raven’s mind mulling over a reply, her gaze stuck to a spot on a side wall.
Twenty-five years of companionship, marriage and a school built and run together for mutants and he’s upset over a little note; especially when Erik hasn’t had an hour to spare since the last two weeks trying to juggle classes and supervise the renovations of the mansion’s west wing. Abashed by his silliness, he clears his head and changes tracks.
‘I was just seventeen when I met him, Raven. He was irresistible. Witty, funny and handsome, a triple threat. I couldn’t keep my hands off him.’ A smile blossoms on his face with the memory. ‘We used to talk day and night, about anything; everything. What drew me to him was not his body or mind, but his heart. And before I even knew it, I was head over heals in love with him… I still am.’
‘Aha.’ Raven nods her head rescinding her legs from the table to slouch on the chair. ‘I bet you are, now that you look like one of your love-struck students.’
‘Take that back!’ Charles demands, feeling the heat rise up his cheeks.
‘I speak the truth and nothing but it.’
The banter continues as one by one, the students slowly begin to filter through the kitchen door.
Occupied that he is with his own classes, Charles doesn’t see or hear from Erik until midday.
I’m heading for town, I need to look over some supplies. Don’t wait up for dinner, Erik sends into his mind when he’s in the middle of teaching igneous rock formation to a bunch of uninterested ten-year olds.
Sighing, he sends back: Drive safe, darling. Bye.
When Charles retreats to his room after the last of his classes are over, there’s a lilac cardigan splayed on his side of the bed. The wool is soft to the touch. It’s the finest Pashmina, he realises; and hand knit at that. In the place of a price tag is a note that reads: Twenty-five years and you’re still teaching me new ways of being happy. Thank you!
A carefree laughter breaks out of Charles’ throat and he hugs the cardigan to his chest as a substitute for Erik.
It’s almost midnight by the time Erik returns from town and slips beneath the covers.
‘I’m sorry, I was late-’ he begins to say, only to be stopped by a bruising kiss from Charles.
Thank you for the gift, darling, Charles sends to his mind while sucking on his tongue.
‘The lady whom I bought it from said that I could exchange it if you didn’t like the colour,’ Erik says when they part for air.
Snuggling further into his arms, Charles whispers over his lips with a dopey smile, ‘Somethings in life, my love, are unexchangeable.’
(based on a conversation in which we talked about Charles somehow having new metal on him and Erik accidentally manipulating it)
He hadn’t seen Charles in months. It was through no fault of his own, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be unhappy with it. Actually, he was almost positive that some groveling would have to be done to get back into Charles’s good graces after this particular trip. But it would be worth it, as long as it was for Charles.
Erik flattened his hands out over his shirt, making several unnecessary brushing motions as he made his way to the school’s front door. It was fairly quiet on the grounds, which meant that the children were either in classes, or out on a trip. That, in turn, would mean some peace and quiet after a long and rather harrowing mission. However, classes mean no Charles, while trip meant Charles and him…alone.
He shook himself, inwardly scowling at that paticular train of thought before raising a hand to knock on the door. A few minutes pass with no answer, so he reaches out with just the barest edge of his powers, feeling for something in movement like a watch, button, or pin. Nothing. Nothing at all.
There’s a brief moment of panic which he resolutely squashes before he can actually entertain it, shifing on his feet and knocking once more before deciding to investigate.
It’s unusual for there to be no one there to open the door. Unusual, but not impossible, he tells himself.
The trip to the yard is short and easy, well practiced in a way that he never thought would be posssible, but was immensely greatful for. It was then, as he rounded the corner to the wide expanse of green, that he felt familiar metal, warmed and in motion. Erik let out a breath that he wasn’t aware he had been holding.
Before he hears the delighted chatter of Hank and Charles’s voices, his power wraps comfortably around the heavy presence of steel and aluminum. Charles’s chair.
And that would be Charles, along with the comforting presence of love, home, peace, joy, settling deep in his mind and bones.
He’s just picked up the pace enough to bring them into view, raising his hand in an absent minded wave when-
“Hel-augh!” And Charles in hurtling towards him.
The first thought is, “What?” The second, more concrete thought is, “Not Charles’s chair.” Which is how he ends up pummled into the ground, arms secure around a smaller frame, and completely disoriented.
“What.” He voices.
“You just- I have-” And the breathless British accent dissolves into laughter.
“Mechanical leg braces, to stimulate nerves and simulate walking…although they’re probably not much more than scrap now.” Hank sounds remorseful, likely because he had spent a great deal of time making the things.
Erik opens and closed his mouth a couple of times. Charles just shakes his head against Erik’s collar, lifting up slightly to show glittering eyes.
“Welcome home, love. Looks like you owe me yet another set of legs.”