Disclaimer: I disclaim. None of this belongs to me, blablablah, salt in the wound.
The song is Ludo's "All The Stars In Texas"
Warnings: mentions of robbery, slight cross-dressing, malexmale sex, fellatio, minor cursing, minor character death (Kurt had it coming anyway)
Desert township, franchise night-shift.
Small minds, blank eyes, big ol' bank slips.
I'll take big boy, he'll clean those drawers good
I'll get that safe while you start the car, pretty thing.
Gimme a kiss and keep your foot on the gas now.
Charles was only sixteen, though small for his age. He lived in a mansion now run by his stepfather, Kurt. They lived in the middle of nowhere and owned just about everything around. They were the wealthiest family in the area. He spent most of his time in the mansion, unable to go out because of one injury or another they couldn't "risk" the public seeing. It was hard to develop his gift when he only had his mom, Kurt, and Cain to practice on—his mom's mostly in a daze and Kurt and Cain have learned what it feels like when he's in their minds. He was told never to use his telepathy, that it made him a freak and unwanted. He supposed he was fine with that anyway. All of the people in this town had small minds, blank eyes, and nothing to show for their lives but big bank slips.
Charles ran his fingers through his wavy dark hair, sighing. His mother had locked herself in her room again, presumably drinking. He, himself, was trying to keep to what had silently been deemed his part of the house to avoid Kurt and Cain. Charles wasn't stupid; he knew he was small—too small to take either of them on, especially at the same time. As he was nose-deep in his book, ice pack on the bruise blossoming across his cheek, he felt someone unfamiliar approach the house—even before he heard the loud engine driving across the gravel driveway. He sat up straight, wondering what was going on. He was reaching small tendrils of his mind out, tentatively searching for something—anything—that would give him a clue who this strange visitor was. Charles had never felt a mind like his before.
Charles searched Kurt's mind cautiously, sensing outrage and—what's this?—outrage and bursts of fear. Who could Kurt possibly be afraid of? He could sense that Kurt was yelling but was too afraid to dig any deeper, fearing discovery. He felt Cain's presence in the other half of the house produce a spark of fear and then fizzle out—hopefully just unconscious. He quickly sat upright, trying to strain his mind to pick up what was going on. Soon, he felt the same happen to his mother.
And then: panic. Flashes of panic so intense they swallowed Charles' mind before he quickly disconnected from Kurt, slipping off of the window seat from the shock. He scrambled quietly to the study when he felt Kurt's approach. This, apparently, was a mistake. As he stood in shock, Kurt rushed in and slammed the door behind him, locking it.
Before Kurt could even respond to Charles' presence, the lock on the door clicked and the knob turned. The door opened to reveal a man of about thirty-two, dressed in a dark turtleneck and slacks, hand open and fingers splayed. Charles' heart beat frantically. Who was this man? He must have thought it harder than he realized because the stranger smiled, replying over the evidently opened link from Charles' mind: 'I'm Erik. It would appear we have a lot in common.' This distraction was just what Kurt needed, grabbing a gun and pointing it at Erik, who just shook his head. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You should know better than that by now." His hand closed, balling into a fist. The gun crumpled, imploding in on itself. Kurt's face turned ashen; he looked scared stiff. Erik tilted his head and made a "gimme" motion with his hand. Kurt shook his head, turning around to grab Charles by the shoulders and shove him forward. "Take him. You can sell him. He's a freak! The government would probably give you a fortune." Charles' blue eyes widened, looking confused for all the world. Erik's face turned dark.
"Tell you what. I'll take the money… and the boy." Erik looked at Charles, his expression softened a little. 'Do you like it here?' Charles hadn't realized he left their mental link open. He looked at his feet. 'Be honest, spatzi.' Charles, still looking down, shook his head slightly. "Alright. I'll take big boy," he nodded towards Kurt and glared, "He'll clean those drawers good. I'll get that safe while you get the car, hübsche Sache." He leaned down and kissed Charles' forehead, ruffling his hair. Erik lifted his hand and the car keys rose from his pocket and floated into Charles' small palm. Erik smiled and winked at Charles (who was still staring at him in awe). He flicked his wrist and the safe's combination spun and the door popped open. Kurt rushed at him and Erik decked him—hard. Charles felt Kurt's mind fizzle out into unconsciousness as well. Erik made a scooting motion with his hands.
Charles walked out the front door, still in shock over what was happening. The blood was rushing in his ears so loudly he couldn't even hear his footsteps on the gravel. He felt the keys dig into his palm and fingers as he approached the car. He did as he was told, climbing into the driver's seat and starting the car. He couldn't believe what was happening. If his grasp on reality weren't so tight, he would truly wonder if he was dreaming. In his younger years, he had read books about heroic rescues, about kidnappings, about heroes and villains. He couldn't say which of those terms fit this situation. But somehow, out of all the things he felt, fear was not among them. He was, dare he say, excited. He had hated living here ever since his mother married Kurt and this—this was the out he had always hoped for. Right?
Erik approached the car, several large bags in hand. He grinned slightly, motioning for Charles to move to the passenger seat. He went around to the trunk and tossed the bags in, slamming it shut behind him, before moving to climb in. He moved the gear shift to reverse, moving to back out of the driveway. His hand brushed Charles' hair as it pressed against the back of his headrest. Charles' heart skipped and he hadn't a clue why. "Alright, kid. You ready?" Charles looked at his lap, pursing his lips, and nodded.
Motel bedside, Kansas sunlight
Tall grass, short dress
Star-crossed hot night
Linens whisper, wrists-held -down love
Charles stirred in his motel bed. It had been more than eight months since Erik had taken—no, had rescued him. Charles was his partner in crime now, honing his powers to help his new… his new… what was Erik to him, exactly? He shook his head to clear his thoughts, preparing for their next heist. He was a little embarrassed about his disguise, though. It wasn't his fault his features were still so feminine! At least he could use it to their advantage. Still, he pursed his painted lips and smoothed out the wrinkles of the skirt to his dress. He let out a huffy sigh and slipped the sun hat over his long wig. He slipped on the heels before climbing in the car, determined to maintain his persona. He drove until he reached the bank, parking gently and stepping gingerly out of the car, mindful of his heels. He clicked up the path to the bank, sighing in relief to see only one teller—an unattractive older man—just as they had planned for. He flirted shamelessly, touching the man's arm lightly and smiling brightly, batting his enhanced lashes over his crystal blue eyes.
The man was smitten; Charles didn't need his powers to tell him that. Charles asked the man about the security of their vault, asking to see it first-hand because she "couldn't bear to lose the jewelry her mother gave her—it's all she has left of her." He of course obliged, leading "her" back. Once in the vault, Charles froze the man and then rendered him unconscious. He pulled a bag from the lining of his hat and stuffed it full. He smiled to himself.
Even after his trip to the local grocery store, Charles had returned to the motel room before Erik, who had left on a magnekinesis-centric mission. When Erik returned, he opened the door to the room and immediately began speaking, stopping mid-sentence when he saw Charles still in disguise. Charles stiffened and blushed when Erik asked bluntly, "What are you wearing?" Charles coughed. He was embarrassed for Erik to see him still in costume. "I haven't had time to change yet," he muttered, reaching for his heels. Erik quickly crossed over to him and grabbed his wrist. Charles looked into his face and saw dark, dilated eyes and something he couldn't quite recognize. "Leave it," Erik commanded. Charles slowly lowered his foot and stood up straight.
Something caught Erik's eye. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at a basket on Charles' bed. "I had sort of hoped we could go out today. Maybe have a—a…" Charles turned pink. Erik chuckled, "A picnic?" Charles blushed a deeper crimson. Erik nodded his head towards the door. "Well come on, then." Charles couldn't help smiling to himself as they climbed in the car. Erik drove them to a large grassy field off of a seldom-used dirt road. Charles laid out the blanket and set the basket down, mindful of his dress as he sat. He couldn't help but notice that Erik stared at him for most of their meal. When they were finished, Charles hopped up and smiled. He stood among the taller grass, twirling and dancing amongst it. Erik was mesmerized. The Kansas sunlight filtering through that tall grass, the light dancing off of Charles' face, the way his short dress was showing his now-smooth legs… It was too much for Erik. He watched Charles' childlike wonder at the beauty of nature for what seemed like hours. When Charles came back, he plopped himself on the blanket on his back, breathing a little heavy as he laughed. He put his arm over his eyes to shield them from the setting sun, still smiling. He heard Erik moving, but paid no attention to it until he felt Erik's hand moving his arm away from his face. Erik was sitting right next to him now, close enough for Charles to feel his body heat.
Erik reached out and stroked Charles' left cheek, remembering the black bruise marring it when he first saw him. Without even realizing he had done it, Charles leaned into Erik's touch and smiled wider. When he turned his head and kissed Erik's palm, they both froze. Erik's breath seemed to stop; Charles felt his heart beating wildly. "Charles," Erik whispered breathlessly. Charles stuttered,"I—I—I don't know what just happened, I—" Erik climbed over Charles's supine form and straddled his legs, leaning down and pressing his mouth against Charles'. Erik restrained himself as best he could, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to Charles' lips. He lingered only a few seconds before standing up and offering Charles his hand.
The sun had nearly set by the time they returned to the motel. Erik locked the door behind them as they entered. He approached Charles and cupped his face. Charles smiled blindingly. Erik faltered. "Are—are you sure?" Charles' brows furrowed. "Of course I'm sure." Erik had never cared before and he wasn't sure why he cared now. But he did. Erik kissed Charles softly. "I just want you to be sure." Charles became frustrated and, if he were honest with himself, a bit offended. "Look, Lensherr. I ran away with you. I rob banks with you. I share my telepathy with you. I think I should be able to do this with you, so stop treating me with kid gloves and treat me like a man." Erik was shocked, but snorted at "like a man" and snickered, "Says the one in the dress and heels."
Charles' eyes flashed, but he smiled. He stepped forward and shoved Erik's chest, forcing him onto his back on the mattress. Charles straddled Erik and ripped the sash from the waist of his dress. He snatched Erik's wrists and tied them together and then to the headboard. "So you think this outfit somehow makes me less virile, hmm?" Erik was something just shy of gaping. Charles reached down and began to lift the hem of his sundress. Slowly—very slowly—he pulled it up and over his head, tossing it aside. Erik groaned and bucked slightly. Charles was wearing women's underwear—a lacy bra and lacy panties to match. His erection clearly showed through the satin. "Tell me, Erik, does this make me seem less of a man?" He unzipped Erik's trousers and tugged them off along with his undergarments and socks. Charles began unbuttoning Erik's linen shirt and slid it up his arms, using it to reinforce the sash binding.
Charles slipped off the bed and walked over to his case of toiletries and pulled out a small, clear bottle. He crawled towards Erik's lap from the foot of the bed and moved himself between Erik's legs. Despite his blown pupils, Erik's eyes showed minor apprehension. Charles leaned forward, maintaining eye contact, and whispered, "Oh don't worry, Lensherr, I'll take good care of you." Erik shuddered with the thrill.
Charles leaned down and took Erik's hardening length in his mouth, moving based on Erik's reactions and looking up at Erik through his lashes. When he felt he had sufficiently teased Erik, he stood up and slid his panties down his legs to the floor. He then reached for the bottle and dripped some of the viscous fluid into his palm. He reached between Erik's legs and pressed his lubricated fingers against Erik's entrance. Erik gasped and tried to reflexively pull away from the intrusion, but Charles' grip on his hip prevented him from moving. Charles started with two fingers, determined to keep Erik on the threshold of pleasure and pain for his disrespect. Erik made displeased sounds at first, but they eventually grew into something more lustful after Charles had begun fingering him in earnest.
When Erik bucked his hips and began pushing back towards Charles' hand, Charles had pretty much hit his limit. He grabbed for the small bottle again, repeating the earlier motion, and slicked his erection. Erik had a clear look of trepidation marring his features, but there was a spark of excitement behind his eyes. Charles knelt on the bed and grabbed Erik's hips, pulling them up and nearly bending him in half. He gripped Erik's sharp hip bones and lined himself up, slowly pushing his cock inside of Erik. Erik was clenching his bound hands and straining against the tie, throwing his head back in anguish and pleasure. He never would have imagined Charles would make him feel so full.
Charles began an excruciatingly slow pace, waiting for Erik to acclimate. When Erik's groans became moans, Charles took that as his cue. He gradually built the speed of his thrusts, eventually fucking Erik with a bruising pace. Erik could do nothing but dig his nails into his palms and let out the deepest, most guttural moans Charles could imagine. Charles was unimaginably turned on by the sheer masculinity of Erik's exclamations. Charles felt himself growing close and noticed his pace stuttering. On a particularly deep thrust, Erik virtually growled out Charles' name and that was all it took—Charles came hard. He did his best to pump his hand along Erik's leaking erection even through his orgasm. While he jacked Erik off with his right, he slipped his left hand down to press lightly against Erik's entrance. Completely out of character, Charles growled out a, "Dammit, Lensherr, come." And Erik did.
Your Daddy was a crooked soul with his heavy hand
And bourbon cold, I shot him dead
You hopped in, you were the prettiest thing I ever stole
Charles stood up, legs a little wobbly in his heels after sex. He unhooked the bra and tossed it and kicked off the heels. He stepped in the bathroom momentarily, presumably to clean up. When he reentered, he slid on a pair of boxers and jeans and fanned himself, a little warm from their tryst. Erik just watched him, breathing heavily, from his spot on the bed. He managed to get out, "Charles," in a somewhat pleading voice. Charles' heart skipped, but then he moved to release Erik from his bindings. Erik sat on the side of the bed, feet planted on the floor. Charles tossed him a pair of sweatpants and a rag. After Erik dressed, there was a tense silence. Before Charles could apologize or inquire what was wrong or anything, he heard
"I killed him."
Charles started at the seriousness and flatness in Erik's voice. It was bordering on terrifying. "What? Who? What are you talking about?"
"I couldn't bear what he said to you, what he did to you. Your dad was a crooked soul with his heavy hand and his bourbon. I shot him dead."
Charles didn't know how to deal with this information. On one hand, he had assumed that was the case. But on the other, he just tried not to think about it. He thought for a minute, watching Erik stare at his hands in his lap and not looking at Charles. "Okay." Erik looked at him and questioned, "Okay?" Charles cocked his head and said only, "water under the bridge, my friend. Besides, that man was no good to anyone alive."
Erik looked lost in thought before saying quietly and with a small amount of reverie, "But then you hopped in. You were the prettiest thing I ever stole." Erik, by all appearances, was blushing slightly. Charles could only beam at him.
"So where are we going next?"
I wanna take you home and start a family, yeah
But all the stars in Texas ain't got nothin' on your eyes
When you say, "Lets hit 'em one more time"