A/N: Tumblr prompt from hurtfulsin: "as his teeth grazed Charles' fair skin, he subcomes to this fierce need, the dark need for him is insufurable,it kills him."
So here, have some smuttiness featuring a bit of a dark!Charles. :3
A hitch in Charles' breath is a sound that startles him; he feels the roiling in his stomach like burning embers being stirred up, and he pitches forward, turning the tables as easily as if he were flicking on a lightswitch.
The man beneath him stills, smirking appreciatively up at his newfound lover, fingernails sliding over the skin of Charles' back, making him shiver with an arctic breeze flowing down his spine.
He makes a growling sound, and it, too, startles him; he expected this from Erik, not himself. But there is a need burning inside him, something powerful and insufferable, dark in nature like a black shadow on a night with a cold moon, and it nearly kills him, tearing him apart from the inside.
Erik's hands are everywhere, palms kneading and massaging over skin and feeling out rippling muscles, all of the expanse that he can reach; Charles' shoulders, arms, back, waist, hips, arse, thighs. Charles hisses in response, rocking forward, making Erik moan, and he decides that he enjoys the submissive sound.
Charles brings them to their sides on the bed, facing one another, and he leans forward to whisper into the metalbender's mind, his thoughts slipping in like water, fluid and coherent and, with force behind them, possibly deadly.
I know how much you want me, Erik; have wanted me for so long, Charles purrs, his hands scanning the front of Erik's frame, feeling out every plateau and plain, fingers twisting around spry hairs and thumbing pert buds, flying lower and lower like a descending plane until he's got a firm grip on his prize, making Erik cry out softly. But you never expected that I could want you more, could take control if I wanted to, did you? You're not the only one with a past that has left you a bit calloused, my friend. My stepfather was my own personal Klaus Schmidt.
And with that, he works his hand and presses Erik onto his back. He brings his face close to Erik's throat, and he can hear the blood rushing through the arteries and veins, and he soaks in the sound of Erik's shallow gasps, and he hums with a slight smile at the scent of Erik's skin, better than any baked good could smell.
Erik growls, reaching over to grip Charles' hip until the fair skin's platelets breaks under his fingertips, bruises blossoming on the spot. He yanks Charles on top of him, and he leans upward and runs his teeth over Charles' shoulder, up over the curve, his pelvis thrusting into Charles's fist, his mouth hovering, now, just over the skin of Charles' clavicle.
Charles keens at both sensations, and he rocks forward, leaning down to dare Erik to do it, to make that graze of teeth full of painful pleasure, the dare to bite being sent almost like a mockery into Erik's skull.
Because that chilling cut of bone across skin is lighting a fire in Charles' heart, burning up to his mind, lighting up his nerves. That fierce need is spiking back up to new levels, and Charles is succumbing to it.
I don't want to hurt you, Charles, Erik is thinking brightly, images of Charles bound in metal coming to his mind, making the telepath shudder and gasp, hand stilling its movements, face ducking down to Erik's chest. But you're asking for it. It's a bit unnerving.
Bite me bite me bite me, Charles thinks anyway, and he opens his mouth, hot and humid as a hydra's swamp, and he bites down on the junction of neck and shoulder, and Erik's groan forces him to bite down onto Charles' collarbone, and it's enough for an imprint on skin, it's enough for a slight bruise, but not enough to draw blood, not enough to hurt much, and just well-placed enough to hide with clothing.
You'll be the death of me, Charles, Erik thinks as he grabs his equal by the hips, nearly aligned with the bruises he left there, and slides his long fingers around to grip Charles' ass and bring him down, raw friction like a threaded flame through a piercing needle, but feeling gratifying enough to make them both emit a hearty sound.
Charles starts to rock against Erik's firm, toned body, mutters into Erik's neck and ear how he is like Charles' personal Greek god, and Erik responds in a breathy, low voice that, fuck that, Charles is his own deity because Erik stopped believing in gods of any sort a long time ago, and that — he grunts, shifting this way and that, writhing, stomach shaking, as he rolls them over, Charles now facing him again as he ruts against the telepath, mouth planting haphazard kisses around spoken words onto Charles' mouth and jaw and throat — that Charles is the only thing he believes in, only thing he loves.
'Loves?' You love me, is that it? I should have known, Charles retorts mentally as he kisses Erik's mouth with enough force to swell and bruise the taller mutant's lips. I should have known that I'm the only person you can or ever will be this way with. Because you love me. You'll never leave, never belong to anyone else; you love me, so you have to be mine. Because I'll never stop needing you.
"Do you—" Erik is cut off my Charles' teeth on his skin, nibbling his ear, hips still rutting, hands still playing with his skin. He shudders and struggles to form words again as he comes close, so very close. "Love me as well, then?"
Charles doesn't respond. He doesn't feel he has to. He telepathically sends his feelings for Erik like a message in a bottle at sea, and as it drifts over, Erik feels the rush of passion — lust, love, craving, hunger, friendship, equality, attraction, admiration, so much more — so intensely he bursts, turning to bite down on Charles' skin again, making Charles hiss.
You will be the death of me as well, Charles finally answers, and it doesn't take long for him to be in the same boat as the slowly calming heart beating under his palm. He moans and keeps projecting, But I will savor every last moment of it.