"Charles' skin is smooth and pale and warm, his hair as thick as Magneto remembers, all those years back." Set around "X3." Features, per pearl_o's request, Ian McKellen!Erik and James McAvoy!Charles.


Good Boy


Charles' skin is smooth and pale and warm, his hair as thick as Magneto remembers, all those years back. He is unable to resist brushing a stray strand off of his forehead, smiling as the young man's face gradually shifts from sleep-drawn to its usual livelihood. "Erik," he breathes in wonder, and his eyes are still so, so blue. His own hand moves up to touch Magneto's own wrinkled visage, fingers soft and curious, yet reverent.

He's wearing one of those damnable cardigans, and shivers when Magneto moves to tug it from his shoulders. He lets it happen, however, with the dogged resolve of one who has relinquished himself to the Master of Magnetism before. He lets Magneto tilt his chin, even encourages it by the way his lips part. His expression is wry, yet somehow whimsical, and Magneto thinks about how lovely he looks splayed across that metal surface.

"I've always thought the helmet looked rather silly," he breathes, and now Magneto is smiling as well.

"Hush." His lips skim down the young man's neck; he nips at Charles' pulse and laughs when Charles huffs at him a little in response. He's still taller, even with Charles at full height, and his body remembers things his mind has long hidden away as he tugs Charles to him by the belt loops. Their groins rub together and Charles bites his lip, though a small moan escapes, and he stands still while the other man's hands roam over him. It's gratifying that Charles cedes control to him so readily; he has learned well, and will be rewarded for it, Magneto decides.

Charles fingers the thick fabric of his cape. He wants the helmet gone, it's plainly obvious by the way his eyes keep darting upwards, but is mindful of not seeming too obstinate about it. Respect belies the cheeky smirk he tosses at Erik as their eyes meet, and just before their mouths smash together, before Erik's hand tangles in that thick mass of hair he's missed so much. Then he shoves Charles down against the metal slab - the Danger Room has done a more than passable recreation of his old base, though he never interrogated any of his prisoners there quite like this - contorting it with a flick of his fingers so it's exactly what he needs it to be. Charles' legs dangle off the edge, coaxed apart by artificial means; he whimpers any time his flesh makes direct contact with the surface, but Magneto murmurs "Ssshh" and he's mostly quiet, a seasoned abductee.

Charles' cock is already half-hard, and he moans appreciatively as Magneto's callused fingers coax it into further arousal. He doesn't have him for long, Magneto knows; best to get his fill quickly. He traces a vein and Charles keens, swirls his tongue leisurely around the head and the young man nearly arches off the table, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the smooth surface. "Erik, please" he whines softly, and it's not until the older man chastises him ("now, now, really, Charles"), and then continues vigorously sucking his cock that he seems to understand his error.

"Please ... Magneto," he says carefully, though his voice quavers. Magneto hums around his cock in satisfaction, and when Charles comes, he swallows everything politely. Later, he'll collect Charles in his arms and dot his jaw and that pale, irresistible throat with harsh kisses, and rub his back a little, and tell him what a good boy he is, and Charles will look at him sadly the way he always has since they were young men together, and Magneto will know that this all-too-brief respite from reality has come to its natural conclusion.

The room returns to its default setting, cluttered with training equipment, and Magneto takes his leave, ignoring the tall memorial carving in the center of the mansion's expansive garden as he goes, as though avoiding it will make the need for a tombstone go away, as well.