Just a quick one-shot prompted by my musings about how much fun fantasies could be with a telepath around. The first fanfiction I have finished in a long time so please be kind. I have about seven others in various states of progress sitting on my computer waiting to be given some attention. I don't actually ship these two together, but this was too much fun not to play with.

Had he known where their little games were going to take them, he would have run for the hills. He never would have stayed in the house on that fateful Thursday afternoon. Instead, he would have turned tail and ran. But hindsight is a wonderful thing and the past cannot be changed. It had started innocently enough. He had been downstairs, curled up reading a book as usual when she had come in from sports practice. Track or gymnastics or some such activity that required more movement that he was willing to expend. She had disappeared upstairs for a shower and he hadn't given the matter a second thought. That was, until the sound of his name jerked him from the page.

Charles…

He had frowned and glanced around the empty room. Yet the voice had come from close by, as if whispered in his ear.

"Raven? Was that you? Is everything ok?"

There had been no answer from the depths of the house, so he had shrugged and returned to his book, until a sound had brought his head back up again, ears twitching.

Charles…

No, he hadn't been imagining things. Raven was definitely calling for him. But he hadn't heard his name per se; rather he had felt it echo in his head, a projection of her thoughts. For some reason, Raven was thinking about him and she was thinking about him hard.

What had followed next to this day still filled him with shame when he thought about it. Like many telepaths, Charles had one cardinal rule when it came to his powers; don't invade on the privacy of others. This rule applied with particular strictness where Raven was concerned. In the years they had grown up together he had lost count of the number of times he had accidentally stumbled onto her thoughts and she had retaliated with rage. But this was a different situation entirely. This wasn't him snooping in her private thoughts. No, this was merely him checking in on his friend to see what had her thinking about him so hard that her thoughts had projected so violently into the public sphere. He almost had a duty to see what she was up to. So, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head telling him this was a terrible idea, he had sent his mind feeling after hers into the house.

Charles!

Her mind filled his in a haze of pleasure, broken and disjointed images of their two bodies melded together flitting through his brain. He had recoiled sharply, landing mentally back in his chair with a jolt. She was touching herself in the shower. More importantly, touching herself and thinking of them together. Touching herself and damn near mentally screaming his name.

He had known about her schoolgirl crush for some time, and had simply considered it the appropriate reaction to have towards someone who had essentially saved you when you were little. She had pinned after him in their youth, but since they had both hit puberty, her feelings seemed to have waned significantly. It had been years since he had got a hit of desire from her and she had treated him with nothing but sisterly affection since he had turned sixteen and her fourteen. But there she was, in the shower, masturbating to the thought of him.

Shaking his head, he frowned and tried to collect his thoughts. There must have been some mistake, some confusion in his reading of her. She simply couldn't be thinking of him in that way. And using the excuse of needing to confirm what he had seen, Charles had flitted his conscious back towards her again, swearing it was merely for academic curiosity and he would only stay a moment. But feeling the sensation of her pleasure and hazy fantasies rolling over him had weakened his resolve and he found himself lingering to drink in her mental ecstasy. At nineteen he was hardly sexual inexperienced and had had several girlfriends of varying seriousness over the years, but drowning in her mind and sharing in the sensations was an erotic experience unlike any other.

He hadn't intended to let her know of his presence. Bad enough he was spying, it would be far worse for her to know this little fact. But when she had slipped another finger into her hot centre, causing her psyche to shimmer with the sensation, his own gratification had bled through. She had frozen, suddenly uncertain, and called out into the room.

"Charles? Are you there?"

Her mind was receding into tentative confusion. He couldn't lose her, not with his own body wrung tight with tension and sexual need. So he acted without thinking, forcefully pushing his mind into hers and throwing up the image of his mouth on her breast. Her psyche had reacted immediately, vibrant and humming with need.

Shhhh, it's only me. Don't question it, just enjoy…

With the addition of his mind pushed against her, his own sensations roiling around, it wasn't long before she was panting and moaning his name again. He had kept up the onslaught of mental stimulus. Him on his knees, his tongue lapping at her clit. His breath on her neck, fingers pinching at her nipple. His hands wrapped around her wrists as his cock buried inside her, again and again. There was no narrative, no sense of realism, just a series of disjointed images of whatever his lust addled brain could produce. But it was working wonders and it was with the image of him pumping into her from behind, his hand working between her legs that her mind flared and stuttered and she broke apart on her own fingers, alone in the shower upstairs, howling his name.

The force of her orgasm threw him from her mind and he found himself back in the chair downstairs, his breathing ragged and the inside of his underwear embarrassingly damp from his release. She had remained upstairs for a while, giving him time to collect his thoughts. Giving him time for the guilt to settled deep into his stomach and for him to feel horrendous about what he had just done. He had violated her mind, and invaded her most private moments. It could never happen again. So when she finally entered the living room, he regarded her with an air of cool nonchalance, the damp stain on his trousers hidden by a book. She stared down at him from the doorway, expression unreadable.

"Everything alright there, Raven? You were in the shower for an awfully long time."

For a brief moment he wondered if she was going to slap him. But then she had pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him, as if to say If that's how you're going to play it and then stalked into the room to flop onto a sofa. His eyes had returned to the book in his lap, and the matter was put to bed.

It had remained like that for several months. He had not felt her mind since that desperate and ridiculous afternoon and for that he had been thankful. He wasn't sure whether Raven had refrained from pleasuring herself the whole time, or simply waited till he had left the house, but her mind had been calm and muted when around him. Life had returned to normal. So when a few of his school chums had invited him out for drinks on a Saturday evening, he had thought nothing of extending the invitation to Raven as well. After all, they did everything together. Several hours and more than several beers later, and he felt her gaze on him from across the room. He had tried to ignore it, to focus on the conversation at hand, but then she had sent him a mental image of his cock in her soft mouth so sharp and pure that he would have sworn she was on her knees in front of him right there. The effect her move had had was instant. Words failed him and his cock grew painfully hard in the confines of his trousers. Sweat had broken out across his forehead and what little blood remained in the majority of his body had flooded to his face. He had caught her eye and scowled at the smug look on her face, before shooting back his own image of his hand underneath her dress and his mouth on her neck, teeth scraping against the skin. He had been rewarded with seeing the smug smile falter and her hands reaching behind her to lean against the table, her knees falling weak. She had glared back at him, and he felt her mind reaching out to his to seek revenge and before he knew it, they were fucking each other in the middle of the bar.

Not literally of course. No, he was still sat in his booth, completely ignoring the conversation he was supposed to be having with the man across from him. And she was across the room, leant against the bar with a vice like grip on the wood, apparently watching the snooker game that was being played in front of her with a casual indifference. But in their joined minds, tongues clashed and sweaty limbs pressed against one another. He pulled at her hair, she bit his lip, his hand was pawing at her breast, her hand was wrapped around his cock. It was barely two minutes before he had to excuse himself from the conversation and disappear into the bathroom, to stumble into a stall and press his back against the wood, bracing to stop his knees from buckling. He hadn't had to check before leaving to know that she had done the same, disappearing into the bathroom to yank up her dress, aside her underwear and bury her fingers into her sopping wet pussy. He knew it as if he were in the room with her, her pleasure suddenly spiking in their shared mind. Knowing he didn't have long before her orgasm bounced him from the show, he had palmed his own dick and increased the force of his mind, letting his own sensations wash over her. The mental images had stuttered and come to a near stop, actual scenarios too complex to be thought up. Instead they had just let their electric sensations pour into one another. It wasn't long before he had come, choking out a hoarse groan as his head had slammed back against the bathroom stall wall. Their connection was lost, but he didn't need to be a psychic to know Raven was doing the same in the other bathroom, clutching at the wall and whimpering his name.

A wave of shame had hit him once he had come down from his high. There he was, stood in the filthy bathroom stall of some cheap bar, his now limp cock still clenched in his hand, the evidence of his guilt seeping between his fingers. He had cleaned up as best he could, and then splashed some water onto his face before returning to the bar. Raven had been waiting for him, leant in the same position before their inadvertent tryst in the bathrooms. He had mumbled some excuses to his friends and then all bar dragged her from the establishment and to a taxi to get home. The taxi ride was silent. He could only assume she was as embarrassed as he was at their rather public – if still very private – episode. He swore to himself that it would not happen again, that it was the alcohol and nothing more, that she had started it in the first place anyway so it was all her fault. But it hadn't mattered as the second time marked the dam breaking, and without him realising how it had happened, they found themselves engaged in their mind games at least once a month.

It had taken him till the fourth or fifth time to stop feeling guilty about what occurred between them, about the fact he was mind fucking a girl who he should have viewed with only sibling affection. The seventh time before he had worked out a way to not get bounced out of her brain when she came, how to ride through the firework show of her pleasure and stick around to see it happen all over again. It was the fifteenth time when he had realised that it was his green jumper with the threadbare sleeves and the slightly too tight body that got her so riled up that she would force her thoughts onto him, no matter where they were. That jumper had never been washed so much in its life and the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth time all occurred in horribly public places where he had had to grit his teeth to control his moans and shift bags so his erection was covered.

It only took about a year before the bond between their minds grew so strong that Raven could actually intrude completely on his thoughts when he was in the midst of pleasure. She learnt this one day when he was busy taking himself in hand, for once alone, when suddenly her mind was in his and her phantom mouth was on his cock. Their connection should have scared him then, but by that point it was all too easy to just focus on the sensations and ignore the niggling voice in the back of his head that told him that this was wrong on every single level. So he had blocked out that voice and simply enjoyed having her come to him for once.

They never spoke about their arrangement however. Never openly acknowledged the twisted things they did to each other in their thoughts. Raven had tried to broach the topic a few times, but either her courage had failed her or he had shut her down. He was under the flimsy allusion that if they didn't acknowledge or recognise what they were doing in any way, then it wasn't wrong. It wasn't bad. It wasn't him taking advantage of the woman who had grown up in his care and under his roof, even if their ages were so close. He wasn't fucking the person who was essentially his sister, even if they weren't blood related. No, it was just fantasies and filthy thoughts. Because he couldn't actually want Raven, he didn't want her. So the silence between them had grown whilst their minds had shouted louder.

Deep down he knew what he was doing was wrong. Very wrong. But nothing had seemed to be able to break the hold they had had on each other. He tried to lose himself in other women, but wherever he turned she was there. She thrust herself into his thoughts when he was out on dates, forcing images of the two of them together into his brain at every turn. The one time he had actually managed to bring a girl back to the mansion had been a total disaster. Raven had been out, and so he had taken this as an opportunity to try and get some much needed relieve in a purely physical manner. No mind games or mental tricks, just good old fashioned skin on skin. But she had come home early and her jealous wrath had descended like a thick blanket, cloaking him. Her hold on his mind had been so strong that when he looked down at the nameless girl writhing underneath him, it was Raven's face that had been staring back up at him. Her golden eyes staring heavy lidded back at him, her blonde hair tangled in his hands. It had been so real, so vivid and the sensation had ripped an orgasm through his body so swift that he had barely had time to let out a guttural groan before it was all over. But as soon as the image had appeared, it had gone and he had been left panting and achy, growing limp inside some girl he had picked up at the bar.

After showing the poor girl to the door, he had stalked to the kitchen to find Raven drinking a glass of walk and looking smug. Her eyes had scanned him, taking in his dishevelled appearance with a cool and collected air, and disgust had coiled in his stomach.

"Well, I hope you're pleased with yourself," Charles had spat, before realised he had just verbally acknowledged part of their little game. Blood flushed to his cheeks and he had stalked away from the room before giving her a chance to reply.

After that incident, their games had cooled somewhat. He had taken to hitting on more and more girls in her presence, trying desperately to ignore the press of her mind against his, her conscious buzzing around the edge of his like an angry wasp. The only consolation was that he knew she felt him too, carrying him with her with every waking moment.

"Hetrochromia…"

He had known, even as the words were pouring out of his mouth, that she was watching him from the corner, eyes narrowed. It had been a cheesy line, and one he used all the time, but the girl at the bar with the mismatch eyes hadn't known or cared.

"Then let's reclaim that word; mutant and proud." As the words had left the girls mouth, Charles had sensed Raven stalking towards them both and known that the scene was not going to end well.

"This is my sister, Raven." Her eyes had darkened at his words, and she had sent a blinding hit of raw lust his way before flitting one of her eyes back to her natural colour. He had gritted his teeth as his cock stirred in his pants, and then sighed in frustration. Raven was not in a playful mood. Seizing her before she had a chance to make a scene, he had mumbled his apologies to the dashing young girl at the bar and dragged her home. She had bristled next to him the entire ride back and then spent the remainder of the evening stomping around the house in a foul mood.

"Mutant and proud? Mutant and proud?!" Her voice was echoing in the bathroom, and he had studiously ignored her in favour of the book in his lap.

"Would you date me?" The question had shocked him, the closest they had come to acknowledging their bizarre attraction for each other since his outburst in the kitchen.

"Of course I would, any young man would be lucky to have you, you're stunning." The words felt hollow, mere lip service, and they both knew it.

"I mean like this"

"What? Blue?"

She had stared at him reproachfully, waiting for an answer. Unable to give a satisfactory one, he had hidden behind his excuses.

"I'm incapable of thinking of you that way, I feel responsible for you. Anything else would just feel… wrong. I don't know what's gotten into you lately. You're awfully concerned with your looks" He had moved to the sofa to avoid her questioning gaze. But he couldn't avoid the wave of displeasure that had rolled off of her, and whilst she had brushed off his comments and snuggled up against him on the sofa, her mind was a mess of emotion. He had attempted to nudge into it, to seek to soothe her, but at once her walls came up and she slammed him out.

He hadn't been able to tell what had annoyed her more; his declaration of sibling affection or his accidental rejection of her natural blue form. They both had known that the sibling thing was a total lie, but there was some truth to his hesitance of her natural state. Whenever they had fooled around, her mental image was always of her in her blonde 'normal' form. He hadn't really given it much thought over the years, but he had to suppose that maybe he did only find her attractive when she looked like that. Not blue and scaly. Either way, her reasons for rejecting him hadn't mattered in the long run. All he had known was her mind, once open as a book to him, was now closed off and sealed shut. He hadn't been able to get a hit off her in months and her physical behaviour towards him had been cool and distant.

So when everything with Shaw and Moira and Erik had been happening, it had been a relief to have a distraction from the detached blonde in his life. He had thrown himself into his work and his new found friendships, flirting casually with Moira and spending more and more time with the metal controlling man that was fast becoming his closest friend. His distance had not gone unnoticed by her and she had thrown herself into her friendships with the younger generation, laughing with Alex and giggling with Angel. When Hank had asked to take her blood, she had projected her coy flirtations and flickerings of attraction back at him, and Charles had gritted his teeth and ignored her. He had known it was all for show, designed to get under his skin, but that didn't change the fact that a wave of possessiveness had washed through him at that moment. She had sensed his displeasure, and he had got a single hit of sick smug satisfaction from her in response, before he had slammed their connection shut in disgust.

It was only later, after their battle in the government facility - after he had nearly lost her - that he thought about reconciling with her. Regardless of what had happened before, Raven was his oldest and closest friend. He couldn't be without her. When her arm had looped around his in response to Erik's cold comment and she had smiled at him, her beautiful eyes gleaming in the sunlight, he had hoped that maybe things between them were healing.

"Well, that hardship was softened by me."

Her mind buzzed gently against his, the warm hum of contentment and he had answered in kind, projecting memories of their youth and of happier times into her brain. He had even dared to think that maybe they could return to their old arrangement, having missed the sensation of her around him.

So when he had sensed her mind stirring one night, the first lazy signs of pleasure drifting through her psyche, he had grinned to himself and sent his mind out to join her. Even after their months apart, he had found her with ease, and slid himself slowly into her brain. What he had found had made his blood run cold. Erik was with her, Erik was running his hands down her body and it was Eriks name that was on her lips. She was returning his ministrations with equal fever, the same word echoing in her brain over and over again.

Perfection

Bile rose at the back of his throat and deep down he knew he should leave the scene. If all the things he had done before hadn't counted as a breach of privacy, this most certainly did. But something held him there, and despite the tightness of his chest and the sound of blood pounding in his ears, he had found himself watching.

"Have you done this before?"

"I… No, I haven't"

Her words were like a stab in the back. He wanted to scream and curse at them both, to shout to the heavens that yes she had, she had a thousand times with him. But of course, that wasn't strictly true because no, they hadn't. He had never touched her, never laid his lips upon hers. Not really. All he had done was tease her mercilessly without ever actually claiming her for his own. He had pulled his mind from hers at that point, and stormed off into the night to get as far away from the house and her psyche buzzing with desire for another man as possible.

Later, he came across her in the kitchen, naked as the first day he had found her. After knowing what she had just been doing, and who she had just been doing it with, her nude form was like a punch to the stomach. She stared him down, daring him to take her all in.

"Enjoy the show?" Her tone was accusatory.

"So you knew I was there then?" It was the first time they had ever actually openly admitted to their games, but what was the point in hiding it now.

"I thought I could feel you at one point, but you soon left. What's the matter, Charles? Was the content matter not right for you? Was I too blue for you to stick around to get yourself off? Did the scales wilt your hard on?" She snarled at him, years of resentment and rage giving her words force. He tried to find it in him to snarl back, to spit at her for betraying him, for leaving him, but instead he felt cold.

"Why him? What does he have that I don't?"

"Well for one thing, he actually touches me! He doesn't just fuck with my head, he actually fucked my body," She laughed cruelly and forced images of her and Erik together into his head. He was drowning in her joy at being touched, her revelation in the sensation of clothes rubbing against her skin, of the awkward bump of their teeth when they had first kissed, of how heavy and warm he had been on top of her. Of how real the experience had been. She refused to let up, forcing more and more sensations into him, and the experience drove him to his knees. His hands had come up to clasp the sides of his head and he had gritted his teeth before screaming at her.

"Stop!"

The mental explosion forced him into her mind and before he could stop himself, all his anger and betrayal had come pouring from him into her brain. All the times he had felt sick to his stomach with guilt after they had played, all the times he had wanted to reach out and touch her but propriety had held him back, all the times he had lusted after her. His loneliness when she had abandoned him, his frustration when she had cock blocked him time and time again, his own jealous rage when she had flirted with Hank and made eyes at Alex. He held nothing back, forcing every memory of each sordid time they had mentally fucked, every time he had found himself alone with his dick in his hand and his heart pounding in his chest. But most importantly he had poured his disgust at her natural form into her, his revulsion at her blue skin and yellow eyes. So she had known exactly how much looking at her made him feel sick to his stomach.

She had cried out and slammed her mental walls shut, but not before the damage had been done. They had been left facing each other in the kitchen, panting and wounded. Her yellow eyes glared at his and he had had the decency to look away, ashamed.

"Never go into my head again, Charles." And she was gone. He watched her retreating form, knowing in his heart that he had lost her. Forever.