I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited but I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it
Author: lore_liee
Rating: R (allusions to sex, nothing actually referenced)
Pairing: Erik Lensherr/Charles Xavier (X-Men: First Class)
Word Count: 3,415
Summary: Four times it started with an invite from Charles Xavier and the one time it started because Erik Lensherr invaded on his own terms.
A/N: Holy mother of all that is holy, I don't do this. I never DO this but my god, I wrote this because I was filled with irritation at the lack of real bromantic action in the sexual tension that was the film.. so this spilled out onto my computer. Beware it was written at like 2.10am so the grammar has a tendency to go all over the shop. I will edit that eventually when I get over the fact that I actually wrote this. AND then that I put it online. I want it to be made known here that I do not appreciate flaming as a comment. If you have nothing nice or constructive to say, please leave me alone. I don't want to hear it. I'm also scared that the voices are OOC but I believe that Erik is someone truly different when he is with Charles and I did try and convey that.. just, gah. If you want to, read it :)
The first time it happened they leapt apart, shocked by what they had done.
It had started innocently enough. There had been talk of chess, and whiskey – "we may live in Westchester," Charles declared on their walk to the drawing room, "but true whiskey must come from Scotland, my friend."
They began talking of their plans for the future, and naturally, this led to arguments over their differences. Chess happened but with little interest. A pawn moved this way, a rook moved that. Ultimately, it ended with Erik leaning forward, his hand spread on the board. The chess pieces were thrown aside by the force at which he slammed his fist down, trying to make Charles see that what he was saying to be true – "Shaw needs to die, can't you see? Or daren't you, for fear of what it will do to you?" Charles reacted, as any hot blooded male, by countering the argument, his hand rested on Erik's. Their faces were a hair-breadth's apart and then it happened.
When they think back on this moment in the future, in a future where they are apart – separated by the truth in the argument that started this – they will remember this with joy. The kiss was soft and gentle and fleeting. But as it happened, they were too surprised to react with the correct emotion. Charles walked away first, his eyes flashed icy blue and turned his back on Erik and that damn chess set.
"I thought you were better than planting ideas in people's heads, Charles," Erik finally broke the silence but instead of being as poisonous as he'd like, he was oddly touched by the kiss.
"Powers are bestowed for a greater good, not my own use, my friend," Charles spoke only to the window.
Erik thought back to how he helped him the day prior to move a satellite miles away by tampering with what he could remember, by helping him feel peaceful in his mind. He'd not been above it then. He thought then about the alluring way Charles waggled his fingers and then thought that maybe he, Erik hadn't been above kissing Charles.
The second time it happened, they realised how mutual it all was.
Chess was at the heart of it all again. White pieces moving forward, capturing black ones – good defeating evil. Charles won although Erik professed over and over afterwards that it was because "you were picking my moves from my head. Don't think I didn't see your fingers on your face as you 'contemplated' what you were going to do."
Charles threw his head back in laughter and declared, "why would I need to do that when you, my friend, are terrible at this game?"
"If I'm so terrible, why do you keep asking me to come back?" Erik challenged.
The room was suddenly charged with the tension of their last chess game. The affection, passion and desire filled the air with electricity between the two men. As it drawn together by magnets, as if connected by one mind, they moved together in synchronicity. Their hands slammed against the table and their heads flew together. This kiss was desperate and driven by greed – what if we can't do this again? They needed this moment. Erik knew from this moment that Charles would never change – he would live in his naive world where one day (one day) mutants would be accepted into society. Charles felt all those things Erik had been trying to make him see – who said anything about peace? – and he knew that this was it. This had to be it.
As if to prolong the inevitable, Charles pulled on Erik's shirt collar and out of surprise, Erik's mouth opened slightly. Like he had expected it to happen, Charles tentatively swiped his tongue over Erik's bottom lip and was greeted with a moan. The kiss became hungrier, more heated and more feral as they explored each other's mouths, their hands exploring faces, biceps, chests, hair and truly as much area as they can cover before they know that they will move apart. Breathing was forgotten as they gave themselves over to the lust.
Finally, Erik pulled back, his eyes wide. He stood up swiftly and walked to the door, shocked by his own desire which was pooling in his stomach, heating his whole body.
"Why did we do this? You know how this is going to end. You have to know," he spoke only to the door, refusing to break the moment, refusing to acknowledge what had happened, what will happen.
"I cannot see the future, my friend. I can see the past, I can see the present. I cannot see what has not yet happened," Charles responded diplomatically like Erik had come to expect.
"You just have to look in my mind to know what is coming. You will always know."
With that, he pulled the door towards him and left.
The third time it happened, they went too far.
Charles had requested one-on-one training to find that place lying somewhere between rage and serenity. Erik tried over and over to resist but found himself incapable, inviting the unavoidable. He knew what had happened before (twice, he stressed) might happen again and despite his blooming feelings, he knew it couldn't – wouldn't – work. They were too wildly different – one hell-bent on revenge and the other a pacifist. They may be brothers in arms but they would never stand together, side by side.
Erik stood at the door, his hand raising and falling, unable to bring himself to knock.
'Sneaking up on a telepath is probably not your smartest move ever. Even less so than the way you play chess,' Charles' voice rang in Erik's head, as if he was stood right next to him.
'You play dirty, Charles,' Erik returned while furiously trying to imagine some brilliant mental block to keep Charles as far away from his thoughts as possible because chess just made him think of those last two invitations, those last two kisses. He couldn't be thinking of that now. Yet, try as he might to keep his thoughts pure, the desire and lust were building up in his stomach again, causing his heart to beat a little faster, his blood to pump a little harder, a little further, a little.. oh.
Finally, he opened the door to find Charles sat in front of the window, looking outside at the grounds.
"I was thinking you could try moving the satellite through the window. It will be like trying to move the submarine in water, which we know you have tried to do before, my friend." At this Charles turned and winked almost flirtatiously. Erik froze where he stood, feeling his heart beating, his lungs constricting, his blood pounding in his head, his fingers, his arms, his... oh.
'You know it can only happen the once, right?' His voice was there again in Erik's head, clear as a bell. The man however stood before Erik slightly nervously, unsure as to why they were doing this. Why he was instigating it. Why he wasn't fleeing from the pain that would come – this would never end well.
The invitation was heard, understood and then accepted. Erik moved forward to pause in front of Charles, their toes touching, their chests touching, both breathing heavily.
"Why must we torture ourselves?" He asked Charles, the question dancing in the latter's eyes.
"To help you find serenity," Charles answered calmly.
This kiss that followed was the start. It began slowly before building in passion, the desire and lust resonating from both tumbling over into their actions. Soon enough, they began to claw at each other's clothes, each item falling across the floor as they made it to the large sofa near the fireplace.
'Serenity is calming, my friend and this is closer to frenzied. Slower now, we have all night,' Charles whispered in the back of Erik's mind. Words would have shattered the moment and for the first time, Erik was so grateful Charles was a telepath.
The last of the fabric fell across the chess board, the irony barely registering on either man's mind as they began to appreciate each other on the leather sofa. Their lovemaking was feral and messy, neither quite sure where to start or what to do, led purely by a desperate need and want they couldn't control. It reached a climax as their touches became more frenzied, their pleasure almost too much to bear as they released simultaneously (as so much of this had been before) and collapsed in a sticky heap on the sofa.
'Hopefully that is a memory that will help you control armies, my friend,' Charles' voice breathed in Erik's mind as they both drifted off into a warm sleep. Erik's last thought was that this was the calmest he'd been in his entire life and he couldn't help but attribute it to the man snoozing on his chest.
The fourth time it happened, they lost a part of themselves.
Cuba was less of an invitation, more a fulfilment of what he believed to be his destiny. A psychotic mutant able to absorb energy was going to be nowhere near thousands of nuclear missiles? No, Shaw was going to be there and Erik just knew it. Charles barely needed to ask him to go, it was settled. Although, Erik thought that maybe Charles had tried to transmit ideas of calm, peace, tranquillity and most importantly, the thought that he didn't need to kill him. When he finally asked him, Charles' response was always the same, "I'd rather you came to the decision yourself without intervention from my abilities, wouldn't you? But you will be there in Cuba regardless. I expect nothing less from you, my friend."
As Erik was guided through the submarine, he battled with his conscience, but that barely mattered in the end. Here was the man who had murdered his mother, the man who had tortured him and the man who had made him move that damn coin. Death was the least this man deserved. He knew now that he was not worthy of Charles and he had and always would lose him. How could he not? As he planned out his revenge, he could hear Charles screaming, 'No, Erik, no.' No 'my friend' this time, just sheer desperation bleeding through his mind. But there was no looking back.
He slipped the helmet over his head and suddenly, he was plunged into silence. It felt oddly lonely, as if Charles' presence in his mind was more than guidance, it was comfort. He exacted his revenge and watched the man who had terrorised his life crumble in front of him, the coin rolling through the folds of his brain. Depressingly, it didn't make Erik feel better, he just felt empty.
He escorted him out of the submarine, the spoils of war, to find himself face to face with everything he had expected: missiles heading towards them, anger and disappointment radiating off Charles in such waves that he didn't need to be a telepath to understand and injuries, so many injuries. He couldn't let there be more, but sadly, Charles wanted to be the bigger man again. Wanted them to be the bigger men and show the world that mutants were good people. Did he truly believe they wouldn't come after them time and time again?
But he didn't want him shot.
After Moira's bullets deflected from Erik's hand, time stood still. The bullet wove through the air and entered Charles' body through his spine. Erik watched in shock as Charles began to fall like a broken doll and then, finally his legs moved forward to catch him. He repeated, like a mantra, "she did this," as he held Charles' broken (beautiful) body to himself while he is choking the woman who has caused him (them) this pain.
"She didn't do this, Erik. You did," broke though Erik's reverie and he looked down at Charles. For him, for this man, he relinquished his control on her breathing. He felt Charles slipping away from him and he scrambled desperately to keep them together.
"Us turning on each other, it's what they want. I tried to warn you, Charles. I want you by my side, we're brothers," he scoffed inside his silent mind because they are so much more than that, "you and I. We want the same thing."
Charles stared at him in the eyes and finally admits the truth they've shied away from all this time, "my friend, I'm sorry but we do not."
The use of that pet name destroyed Erik and inside he had crumbled. All they were was lost and all he can do now is leave. He leaned forward slightly, carefully to avoid aggravating Charles' injury and kissed him gently on the lips. He slid his dry tongue over Charles' bottom lip and as he pulled away, he whispered, "goodbye."
Inside his mind he was screaming, wanting to make Charles' hear everything he daren't ever admit but he was too cowardly to remove the helmet. He then gave up Charles to Moira and walked away, losing a piece of his heart and mind forever.
The final time it happened, they gave a piece of themselves away.
It had been five years since Cuba and Charles was finally at peace with the chair. At least, he felt like he could maybe, just maybe cope now. But that wasn't all that plagued his mind daily. He felt empty, he felt desolate and he felt broken. The fact his legs didn't work was just a physical manifestation of his inner pain.
He rolled through the hallways of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and paused in the doorway of various classrooms, monitoring the progress of the new groups of students he had located using Cerebro. It hurt to know he couldn't use that machine without thinking about the one person who he wanted to see teaching the students, the one person who made him feel empty, the one person who had trapped him in this chair forever.
Worst of all, it wasn't like he didn't see Erik. Erik Lensherr, Magneto, the leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants, the opponents of his own X-Men. But the man he saw leading the fight wasn't the man he longed for, the man who he cared about, the man who he missed. The man he had lost in Cuba didn't appear to exist anymore but Charles wasn't ready to accept that. Not yet.
x
Erik surveyed the damage in front of him like a general listing his wounded, his fallen, his losses. He felt defeated and lost for the first time, as if the fight wasn't worth it anymore. He turned his back on the charred remains of one of his... (he daren't say friend, he daren't say soldier, they weren't comrades) men and moved to the side, taking his helmet off his head as he moved.
"Azazel, can I ask you a favour with some stipulations? You never repeat what I am about to ask to anyone ever. You aren't to tell anyone where I want to go or why I ended up there. You are to give me three hours and then come and collect me. After this, we shall never speak of it again. Do I make myself clear?" Erik spoke in hushed, aggressive tones to the man stood next to him.
Azazel stared ahead but nodded brusquely.
"Westchester, New York. The town centre will do," Erik stated.
As Azazel took his jacket in his hands, Erik thought aloud, hoping Cerebro was still in operation, Please don't turn me away, it's finally time for me to apologise, just hoping a certain someone would hear.
x
After walking to the Xavier estate (or Xavier's School of GiftedYoungsters), Erik paused at the front gate, unsure if he should enter. He wasn't even sure if he was welcome anymore.
'I always told you never to sneak up on a telepath,' suddenly, Charles' voice filled Erik's mind and at once he felt safe.
'We need to talk as I owe you one long overdue apology. I'm calling a truce - for three hours. As long as I am here, we are on your terms,' he thought fiercely.
'I'm where I have always been, my friend. I hope you haven't forgotten.'
As Erik made his way towards the drawing room, he responded, 'No, because who can forget a room of great defeat.'
'It is only because you were so poor at it,'
'And you had additional gifts.'
Charles' ghostly laugh in his head was all he heard as he rapped his knuckles on the large door.
"Enter," a familiar voice spoke beyond the wood and at once, Erik felt on edge as if he shouldn't have come.
He pushed the door open and was greeted by Charles seated behind the chess set in a large plastic wheelchair.
"Is that because of me?" He spoke in a whisper, scared to break the tentative moment and unable to look Charles in the eyes for fear of anger.
"You know that it is, Erik," Charles gently answers, "you've seen me in this before."
"I do better than to listen to idle gossip. I would rather have heard it from your mouth first."
It was then that Erik realised how much stronger the man in the wheelchair was than him. He stood up for mutants daily, took in students to help them and trained them while trying to make the world see how unfair they were – we are one and the same, just slightly more advanced. He realised too how much he had lost and how much he had to give.
"I'm sorry," Erik finally said after a long silence.
"Why are you really here, my friend? I know that you don't need three hours to say two simple words."
"I owe you so much more than that," and as he talked, he moved towards his friend, attracted towards him without the help of his magnetism, "and I have no words for that."
Charles looked at him and again, Erik is reminded of his true strength, "then maybe we don't need words."
Erik bent down and pressed his lips to Charles' and as he did, he heard Charles in his head, 'I'm giving you this, so don't ruin it. The next two hours are about us, and nothing else. I cease to be Professor X and you are not Magneto. We are just two misguided idiots, friend,' and he cannot help but agree.
He lifted Charles carefully from his chair and carried him to the sofa. This time, everything was slow and gentle, truly serene. They learn how to appreciate the other, and their touches were questioning and tentative. They kissed to keep themselves grounded and to appreciate the moment. They learnt how best to pleasure and to truly love the other. They make love because this wasn't just sex. This was never about sex. This was about honest-to-god love and making it count for the last time.
'Let me show you how it feels for me, Erik,' and suddenly, for them, every touch, every kiss was amplified as they became one mind. When they finally found release, they rode their pleasures together, in sync as always and being side by side as one for the final time.
As their time drew to a close, they finished wildly, trying to memorise every feeling, every expression of love and every touch. When they end, the air was tinged with sadness as they stared at each other's face, trying to commit to memory every line, every smile, every hair, every nuance that made Erik, Erik and Charles, Charles.
Finally, Erik started to leave, dressing himself and Charles in silence, a soft smile graced his features. He returned Charles to his chair and walked to the door.
"I thought you should know, when I'm working, being Magneto, I lose myself. To find my place in between rage and serenity, to become Erik again, I give myself up to you and these moments. You save me, Charles. I couldn't be myself without you," and with that, he departs.
As he exited the gates of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, he heard, like a whisper on the wind, in the corner of his mind, 'And I, you, my friend. I just wish it didn't have to be this way. But tonight is forever. Be safe.'
Again, Erik Lensherr was at peace.
~FIN.