Title: The Bed

Author: wummelbear

Pairing: Charles/Erik

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 3,502

Archive warnings: none

Warnings: explicit m/m sex, barebacking

Summary: "The first time Erik had seen it he had teased Charles about the rather medieval woodwork and the fact that the thing actually had a canopy, but Charles had soon found a way get him to appreciate the bed's massive sprawl and solid construction."

Author's notes:

This is meant to be a sweet, smutty interlude to my Hindsight series (the above summary is a quote from part 1), but it can definitely be read as a standalone story.

Be ye warned, here be smut!

For most of his life, Erik Lehnsherr had never had a bed to call his own. Sure, he had slept in a number of beds, most spartan but some luxurious, usually alone but sometimes not, but the beds had never been truly his. No, he had never thought of them as such, not even when he had occasionally forsaken his usual hotel-hopping lifestyle in favor of a few sedentary months in a rented a flat in London, or Paris, or Amsterdam. In fact, when those beds had started to become too familiar, and he caught himself indulging in lie-ins or afternoon kips, or heaven forbid, early evenings curled up in the duvet to read and enjoy a cup of tea (or a beer, in the summer months), Erik knew it was time to pack up and pick up Schmidt"s trail once more.

And so, when Erik found himself walking through the doors of that stately Westchester mansion with just two modest suitcases that harbored all of his worldly possessions, he told himself that this time would be no different than all the others. He would stay for awhile, making his preparations and biding his time before moving on to take his newly-Americanized nemesis down for good. He refused to let himself be impressed by his assigned rooms, by the warm wooden accents, by the comforting pine-scent, by the crackling fireplace that he had secretly always wanted but had never had. And certainly not by the bed, large and soft, dressed with expensive linens and goose-down pillows. No, these comforts did not matter to Erik. He simply folded his clothes and tucked them away in the papered dresser drawers, placed his toothbrush and toiletry kit in the en suite bath, and arranged his files and research on the Biedermeier desk (real mahogany, he noted dryly, not just stained cherry or pearwood). Then he sat himself on the cushioned window seat and remained perched there all through the night, maneuvering the coin between his trained fingers and boring his eyes into the annotated maps and polaroids he had tacked up on the opposite wall.

In addition to all the finery, that sprawling mansion came with yet another feature that Erik had never encountered before, a fellow mutant. And not just any fellow mutant, a telepath, not dissimilar in ability to the icy blonde version Shaw had at his side. At first, Erik had deemed Charles Xavier as a potential hidden ace, a mere tool that would help him get closer to finding-and killing-Shaw. But as the first few days slid by, this pragmatic view began to crumble, dissipating slowly at first, but then faster and faster until all utilitarian thoughts of Charles had become something else entirely. That something else had first flickered as early as the first week, when they were preparing to depart the CIA compound on the very first of their recruitment trips. Charles had been waving goodbye to Moira and Raven, beaming with the anticipation of adventure, and Erik, standing by the readied car, had found himself fascinated by Charles' wide blue eyes, his pure smile, and the faint flush on his soft English cheekbones. When Charles had finally turned to walk towards the car, his eyes met Erik's and his smile became a little shyer, his blush deepening oh so slightly, and God help him, Erik had actually opened the passenger door for the professor, a chivalric gesture he could not recall ever performing for anyone else. Startled and more than a bit self-conscious, Erik had headed to the driver's side with tightened lips, pledging to himself that there would be no more of that. But when he slid behind the wheel, Charles had smiled at him, so warm and open and beautiful, and Erik couldn't stop himself from smiling back.

And then, weeks later, after their group had abandoned the compromised CIA compound in favor of the Xavier mansion, they found themselves in a cozy lodge in Denver on yet another recruitment trip. It was in that lodge that Erik had given in to the temptation that had been gnawing at him for weeks and kissed Charles for the very first time. The moment he did so, he felt a flash of panic at the rush of foreign emotion that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside his soul and, for the briefest of moments, Erik considered breaking away and running far, far away. But then Charles had wrapped his arms around him, cradling and loving, not trapping, not crushing, and Erik knew he was right where he should be. Without speaking, they had fallen on the bed together, a tangle of limbs and tongues and thoughts, and when Erik had slid inside the harbor of Charles' body and felt the wave of the telepath's joy and trust, and love break over his mind, he knew there would be no going back.

After that blissful weekend holed up in their room, they had-somewhat reluctantly- returned back to Westchester. They strove to keep the real nature of their relationship concealed from the others, especially the CIA, though Erik suspected that McTaggert was not as ignorant as she seemed. For appearance's sake, Erik retained his pre-assigned quarters, two turns down the north stairwell from Charles and on an otherwise uninhabited floor, but they both knew where Erik would actually be spending his nights. In fact, that very first evening back from Denver, after an seemingly endless welcome home dinner, they had retired to Charles' study for their customary chess game. Yet the minute the heavy door had shut behind them and Erik had locked it with a crook of his finger, all pretenses of playing the board game were dropped. To his credit, Charles had attempted to maintain decorum, turning away to half-heartedly set up the pieces on the board while shyly asking Erik if he fancied some brandy.

"Brandy?" he said, crossing the ornate rug that sprawled between them with long, purposeful strides until he stood directly behind the flustered telepath, similar to the manner in which he had first approached him in that Denver hotel room. Charles turned then, just in time to be enfolded in the other man's arms and to receive the kiss that had previously been headed for the crown of his head. The Englishman's arms automatically stretched up to wrap around Erik's neck, and he raised up on his toes in an attempt to deepen the kiss, an action which Erik found both insanely adorable and extremely arousing. In response, he pulled Charles up into his arms, grinning as Charles' mouth broke away to take in air and to let out a surprised squeak, his arms tightening around the older man's neck while his legs instinctively wrapped around Erik's waist. "Maybe later..." the master of metal mused, shifting one of his hands lower to squeeze Charles' ass, "Right now, there's something else I'd rather partake in."

If Charles' had been flushed before, he was positively scarlet now, but he smiled back, his eyes affectionate and trusting. "Is that so, my friend?" he teased, then cast a glance at the abandoned chessboard. "Do you perchance mean a round of chess?"

"Actually, Professor..." Erik responded walking them to the door that connected Charles' study to his bedroom and opening it with a thought, "I've a rather different type of play in mind."

Once inside the darkened bedchamber, Erik set Charles down gently on his own feet, realizing in the back of his mind that this was the first time he had ever been inside this particular room. He lingered in the doorway as Charles moved about with ease, turning on a few lamps to allow a soft glow to light upon his furnishings and effects, revealing them to Erik's curious eyes. Like the rest of the house, the decor was ornate and austere, but the effect had been softened by Charles' presence. Unlike in the well-maintained study, papers and books crowded together on nearly every available surface. Worn robes, faded sweats, and a seemingly endless supply of cardigans were draped over every chair and chaise, completely obscuring the embroidered upholstery underneath. And on the beside table, Erik spied some non-science related books, including Keats and Tennyson anthologies and a book on the history of the spice trade, flanked by half-melted candles and crowned with a pair of reading glasses that Erik hadn't even known Charles needed.

And there, against the center of the rear wall, was the bed. Erik had never seen a bed so large; the headboard took up nearly two-thirds of the wall, bookending a mattress that could easily accommodate four people with room to spare. The linens were a rich hunter green, and at the foot of the bed was a neatly folded paisley coverlet which Charles had recently added with the advent of autumn. The bed also sported four exquisitely carved posts, which in turn supported a perimeter of four rails and, to Erik's amazement, a thin canopy of the exact same shade of green as the sheets below.

"Your bed... has a canopy?" Erik said, a teasing grin spreading over his face. "I thought only medieval kings and fairy-tale damsels slept under those."

Charles mock-glared at him, trying to look offended but failing miserably. "I'll have you know, sir, that this bed has been in my family for generations. And believe me, come winter you'll be grateful for the canopy and bed curtains, as fussy as they may seem."

Erik's heart tripped a little at the thought of sleeping in Charles' bed all the way into winter, but he masked it with a smirk, folding his arm and leaning against the doorframe. "Oh, is that so?"

"I do believe so, yes." Charles lit the candles on the bedside tables, and a warm spicy scent began to unfurl across the room. "Of course..." he continued, casually pulling off his cardigan, stepping out of his trousers, and toeing off his argyle socks before perching on the foot of the bed in just his white button-down. "If my bed truly offends your toughened, masculine sensibilities, you're free to leave."

Erik, steel eyes hungry and cock unbearably hard thanks to Charles' little strip-tease, closed the distance between them and coaxed the younger man to lie back with a gentle push. Still fully clothed, he stretched over his lover, noting the way the deep green sheets brought out the chestnut hints in Charles' hair and the enhanced the creaminess of his pale skin. "Well, as much as it pains me to do so, I think I can make an exception, just this once."

"Hmmm..." Charles murmured, "Just this once?"

The question was delivered in the same tone as their previous banter, but Erik could hear the deeper current in the telepath's deceptively light tone. Before he could catch himself, he found himself replying in a manner that was anything but jocular. "No..." he said quietly as he palmed the curve of Charles' left cheekbone. "Not just once, Charles."

Charles' blinked up at him, lashes elongated by the flickering glow of the bedside candles. "Erik..." he breathed, looking as if he had more to say, but after a few beats he merely grinned instead and demanded, "Kiss me."

Now that was an order the other man was happy to follow, and as their lips finally met they both knew that the time for talking was over, at least for the moment. Feeling a telltale heat beginning to pool in his stomach, Erik moved his hand up to tangle in the waves of Charles' hair. The younger man responded by deepening the kiss, opening his mouth to allow their tongues to slide together, gently at first, but soon with increasing urgency.

Erik had wanted to take it slow, to treasure the first time that they would make love in their newly shared home rather than a hotel bed, shower, or rental car, but he had been aching for Charles all day. So instead he hastily used his free hand to hitch his lover's leg up around his waist before running his fingers up the younger man's lithe thigh. He delved his fingertips under the hem of the Englishman's underwear, but instead of grasping the heavy cock trapped within, Erik merely brushed against the taut skin, a teasing touch that made Charles break away from their kiss with a shaky groan.

"Erik...please..." he panted, and even in the dim light Erik could see that his eyes were black with lust, their beautiful bright irises now just a faint ring of blue.

"Please what, Charles?" The older man asked, now threading his fingers in the soft nest that curled around the base of the professor's cock.

"Touch..." the answer hitching in Charles' throat as he felt those maddening fingers tighten and tug. "Please, touch me, Erik. Please..."

At that, Erik wrapped his wonderfully calloused fingers around the twitching appendage and stroked it slowly but forcefully in a manner he knew would drive Charles' crazy. Not to disappoint, the younger man was soon letting out shaky whimpers and moans that quickly escalated to urgent staccato cries, eyes screwed shut and his head arching back into the pillows.

"Fuck..." Erik swore under his breath, his own cock demanding its own share of attention. He shot a glance at the nightstand to his left and was relieved (and a bit amused) to see the familiar tube of slick peeking out from behind the primly-bound Tennyson. Turning his attention back to his bedmate, he tugged at Charles' underwear and was rewarded with a slight lifting of the slim hips, a move which allowed him to pull the pesky garment down and toss it onto the floor.

"Hurry, Erik... I can't wait much longer..." Charles urged in a thick, hoarse voice, taking the tube from its place and pressing it into his lover's hand.

"I can't, either." Erik replied through gritted teeth, hastily unscrewing the lid and coating his fingers with the cold, wet substance. He took a few minutes to warm it between his fingers before reaching down under the hem of the shirt that Charles was still wearing, seeking out the tightly furled hole that was hidden from view. Keeping his eyes on the other man's face, Erik traced slippery circles against Charles' opening before gently coaxing one digit inside.

"Oh..." the telepath inhaled sharply, wincing slightly at the now familiar burn. Knowing that the discomfort would soon fade, he focused on evening his breathing and relaxing his muscles as much as he could.

Moving the solitary finger with more urgency, Erik waited until Charles nodded before adding another, and then another, kneading and pushing and streching. Then, as he felt Charles' body relax around him, he delved deeper and crooked his middle finger upward, raking against the spot of intense pleasure he knew was there.

"Erik!" Charles was practically screaming now, and the last remaining threads of Erik's rationality observed that it was fortunate that the mansion was so spacious and that its walls and floorboards were so formidable. "Oh, god... ohgodohgodohgod...Erik! Fuck...me...Erik!"

That did it. Erik practically ripped his belt open and yanked down his zipper with unsteady fingers, so far gone that he completely forgot that he had very useful powers for such a situation. With no patience to actually undress, he pushed his trousers and underwear down out of the way before grasping his cock to coat it with a few slippery strokes. Feeling almost dizzy with lust, he wiped his hand on the green coverlet, pulled Charles' pliant body onto his clothed thighs and, then, finally, he was pushing inside that tight, marvelous heat.

"Ah!" Charles twisted one his hands in the bedsheets and raised the other to grasp at the wool of Erik's turtleneck, his fingers tightening as he felt the thick cock slide inside him. "Ah...ah...Erik..."

Pressing his lips and eyes tightly closed in attempt to muster some control, Erik grasped at Charles' sweat-slick hips, holding him still until, at last, his full length was sheathed. Keeping as still as possible, he sank down on his elbows, opening his eyes as he felt gentling hands slide up over his back to rest against his shoulder blades. His turtleneck had ridden up with the gesture, exposing the sweat-slicked skin of his lower back, which was soon met with the equally damp skin of his lover's thighs.

They stayed there in that nearly motionless embrace for what seemed like eternity, eyes locked and foreheads mere centimeters apart. Then Charles tilted his head to ghost their lips together and whispered in voice both sweet and filthy, "Fuck. Me. Erik."

With a growl, Erik threw all care and caution to the wind and wrapped his arms around the smaller frame beneath his before finally giving into the seemingly ever-present need to fuck the seemingly oh-so-proper Englishman into the mattress. Pressing his lips against the tender skin of his lover's pale throat, Erik pulled his hips back before thrusting back in with such a force that Charles' knees canted up besides his ears. Over and over, he pumped his cock in and out, the room filling with the obscene sounds of slapping skin and creaking wood, his own grunts mingling with Charles' rhythmic cries.

"Oh...god!" Charles panted, his fingers digging into Erik's shoulders. "Yes! Fuck!Erik! Erik!"

"Charles...mein Gott..." Erik huffed against his neck, before nipping at a tempting collarbone in order to stop himself from saying the things that threatened to burst forth from his throat. Things that he had never said to anyone, things that he had never felt for anyone. Things that he had vowed that he would never say, and, more importantly, never feel.

If Charles' sensed his dilemma, he gave no sign. A strained, wordless cry burst from his lips as Erik struck that wonderful place deep inside and his cock rubbed against the exposed muscles of his lover's torso, and he knew that he was close. Very close. So close that the normally composed Englishman began to beg with words that under any other circumstances would never cross his lips

"Erik...Erik...harder...please...I want you...to fuck me...raw...I want to feel you in me for days...I want you to come inside me, so deep, so deep...please, please, give it to me, please!"

His head ringing with those lewd demands, Erik finally let go completely and practically bent his lover in half as he fucked him deep and hard, faster and faster and faster until-

"Ah! Ah-ah-ah...Eh-Eh-ERIK!" Charles didn't even try to quell his scream as his orgasm flared through his rigid body, his eyes rolling back under their lids as thick spurts of cum splashed between their grinding stomachs.

By now accustomed to the literally mind-blowing effect of having sex with a telepath, Erik opened his mind to let the wave of his lover's emotions crash over him. The mental echoes of the other man's pleasure combined with the almost painful tightening of his ass and Erik's hips stuttered forward, once, then twice before he finally reached his limit and let his own orgasm unfurl deep inside the other man.

Minutes passed as they stayed locked in that position, slowly coming down from the heights of their pleasure. Soon, however, Charles' legs bonelessly dropped to the mattress and he released his grip on his lover's shoulders as Erik shifted back onto his knees, placing a soothing hand on the telepath's hip while he slowly withdrew his softening cock. Charles let out a low, shattered-sounding moan and rolled onto his side, a fresh blush coloring his face as he felt a rivulet of the older man's cum drip down from his swollen hole and run down his leg.

After yanking his completely sodden and wrinkled turtleneck over his head and shucking off his clinging trousers and underwear, Erik curled up behind the younger man and buried his nose in Charles' damp hair. Charles felt him breath in and out, shakily at first before regaining a normal steady rhythm.

"Erik..." Charles murmured, feeling sleep closing in on them. "Are you sure you don't mind sleeping in here, with me? I mean, I don't want you to feel, ah, obligated...or anything..." Charles bit his lip, hoping that his voice hadn't wavered too much.

"Charles." Erik said, gently yet firmly. "I want to sleep here. In this ridiculous bed." Smiling at the telepath's faint sound of protest, he shifted his hand to catch Charles' own. As he twined their fingers together, he used his ability to turn off the lights and snuff out the candles (of course, Charles would have a brass candle snuffer), shrouding them in a moonlight-tinged darkness. "Or any bed, for that matter...as long as you were in it."