VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE. PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING WITH THIS ONESHOT.
1. If you haven't read Mercury's Red Flag, I suggest you go get to it before reading this one. Or if you don't mind not understanding most of what I'm talking about here and just came for the sex, that is also fine. xD (but honestly, go check out the original story too. You won't regret.)
2. TO ALL THE READERS WHO CAME ALL THE WAY HERE JUST FOR CHARYA SEX. I am terribly sorry for putting you through the trouble of having to go to my profile just to see this one story. When I asked in that latest A/N what I should do with the M-chapter, some of you said to put it on the original story, but some of you also said that it would be safer for me to put it up separately with an M rating. You guys have to understand that there are also some readers in Mercury's Red Flag who are yet to be exposed to such sin (yes i called it that HAHAHA) and I didn't want to be the one to introduce them to it.
Also, I don't want any flames to get to the original story's comment section. Some people might complain like "oh this has a T rating, why did you put an M rated chapter here douche". One of you reviewed that it could happen, and I agree.
Anyway, I just wanted to apologise for any inconvenience. I love all of you. I read all of your suggestions, and I wish that I could take heed of them all. But even if this has an M rating, ff isn't really very strict when it comes to underage readers seeing this stuff. Honestly, it's their choice. Who am I to stop them. xD
Without further ado, I present to all of you, my fellow pervs: Charya's M rated chapter! [feeble applause]
update, 1/12/2016, explained in the A/N of Chapter 8 of Prometheus: Arya, originally from Carlsbad, California, is now from Glen Island, New Rochelle, NY.
EPILOGUE
Charles, Hank, and Arya took three days for themselves in the mansion.
They ate together, chatted in the living room while waiting for something interesting to come up in the news, and even occasionally played a round or two of Beer Pong in the Games Room. But if they weren't doing any of these things, they were sleeping. All of them had gained their own injuries during the escapade in D.C.
Hank received quite a few cuts and bruises from his fight with the Sentinel, Charles' head wound needed one or two stitches, despite the blood clot, and Arya needed time for the bullet hole in her shoulder to heal completely.
Apparently, while she was running to keep Charles and her from being crushed by the Kennedy Stadium, Hank's stitches had snapped. She had barely noticed it. Meanwhile, however, the cut on one of her shoulder blades needed stitches as well.
At least Chloe will have a lot of stories to look forward to, Arya mused, smiling slightly at the thought of her friend waiting for her in New Rochelle.
It was the fourth day since the events in Washington when she heard a knock on her bedroom door.
"Come in," Arya called, not taking her eyes off the volleyball that she repeatedly tossed into the air using her fingertips.
The door opened and Charles stepped through, closing it behind him immediately afterward. Arya's room was dark, for she had closed the drapes and it had to have been 6 in the evening. From where she lay on her bed, it was impossible to read the professor's expression. She mentally noted that his wheelchair was nowhere to be seen, and her heart skipped a beat.
He wore one of his simpler button-up shirts, with the sleeves folded up to his elbows. His hair was disheveled, but Arya expected this because he never combed unless they were going out, or unless he absolutely needed to. She didn't reprimand him about it; she quite liked how messy hair looked on him. It offered her something different from polite-mutant-boyfriend.
Arya let the volleyball drop to the floor beside her bed, pulling herself up into a sitting position. The ball bounced several times, and during every beat Charles was just staring at her. When it finally stopped bouncing, Arya allowed herself to speak.
"Charles?" she said. Her voice came out softer than she'd meant, and she cleared her throat. "What's up?"
He finally stepped away from the door.
"You've forgotten," he said; his voice tilted upward at the last word, making Arya wonder if he was asking her. But she had no idea what she had forgotten. Or at least, she had an idea but couldn't quite bring it to mind.
She laughed uneasily. "What have I forgotten again? Seriously, I'm getting so forgetful these days. I think you may have to—"
Charles had rushed from his place in the middle of the room and was on the bed with Arya in seconds. He had both hands sunk to the wrist in the mattress on either side of her head, but he didn't even need those to pin her to place. His heated gaze could have done just fine. His lower half sat on the side of her bed, his feet giving him enough range to reach her head. He had his face lowered; it hovered only inches away from Arya's. Her eyes widened slightly at the abruptness of it all, but then she recalled the deal she'd made with him—why he would ever have to take one of Hank's serums again.
"Our deal," replied Charles in what sounded like a slightly entertained tone—she'd already remembered though.
One hand drifted to gently pull a strand of hair away from her face, but after doing do, he caressed her cheek. His touch was as light as a feather, and it sent shivers down Arya's spine.
"Yeah, yeah, I—I remember now." Arya struggled to think of a complete sentence that would somehow faze him, only long enough for her to get a grip of herself. "Look, Charles, maybe we shouldn't—I mean—Hank's downstairs right now and he might—" She stopped abruptly when Charles moved his head lower so that his nose brushed against the side of her jaw. His warm breath fanned her neck, and her eyes fluttered closed. "Hank, might—"
"Hank's out," the professor murmured, with his lips so close to her neck that his breaths felt like water. "I sent him off to deliver some files for me to a university at Connecticut."
Despite herself, Arya frowned. "But traffic's crazy today. You watched the news with me this morning, and—"
"Hank didn't," he finished for her. "Now, Arya, enough conversation. Please."
Before she could protest, Charles already had his mouth on hers. His kiss was soft at first, but as the minute progressed, he turned more insistent. His lips ground against hers, bruising, insistent. Arya once more pushed herself into a sitting position to make it easier for both of them. Charles adjusted so that he was on his knees between her legs, and then he was kissing her again.
For several heavenly moments, Arya was blissful. She loved the way he pressed his lips against hers, and then turned gentle, right before turning adamant again.
She barely noticed it when he adjusted their positions once more, so that he was sitting with his legs straight, and Arya was sitting on top of him with her legs on either side of his waist. She barely noticed it when his hand travelled to the small of her back and pushed gently, making it so that every time they gasped for air, their chests would brush against the other's like sandpaper. She barely noticed it when he slipped into her mouth, his tongue brushing against every surface it could find.
However, she did notice when his hips started grinding upwards.
Arya broke the kiss immediately, breathing heavily. A moan died in Charles' throat and he stopped moving against her. She turned her head to the side, letting her hair cover the side of her face because she couldn't bear to look at him without feeling guilty.
It was him, though, who apologized. "Arya, I'm sorry," he started. "I shouldn't have… I knew you weren't…"
With all he was saying, Arya couldn't help but to feel her own heart clenching. She pulled herself off of him and crawled to the other side of the bed. She couldn't see him from there even if she raised her head.
"We should have waited," Charles said, and Arya died a little inside when his voice broke. "I am so sorry, Arya. I shouldn't have forced you into this. I knew you didn't want to, not—"
"'Didn't want to'?" Arya repeated his words, letting them roll off her tongue. They felt alien, and she laughed humorlessly. "Charles, I do want it. I want you. I love you. But I… I'm…" She trailed off, and when she spoke again, her voice was a strangled whisper: "I'm afraid."
She didn't know whether her telepath had heard it or not, but she let a soft sigh escape her throat anyway because the silence was louder than anything he could have said. Then Charles was in front of her, kneeling, like how she would have been if it was him who was in his wheelchair with tears rushing down his face.
He enclosed her hands in his, warming them. "You don't have to be afraid with me, Arya. I've told you that—" He stopped when a chuckle escaped Arya's lips.
And it was a genuine one too. She shook her head, smiling slightly. "It's my first time doing this with anyone, Charles. Can't I at least have the benefit of the doubt?"
"But I would never hurt you, Arya."
"It didn't look like that before," she grumbled, sniffling slightly. Charles stiffened in front of her, and guilt spread across her chest like wild fire. "I didn't mean it like that. I just…" Her voice broke again and she screwed her eyes shut, already feeling the stinging feeling of tears, which she quickly willed away.
She felt his hands let go of hers to cup her face. "Fear is among all of us, Arya. Even me," he whispered softly. "I fear losing you. I fear having to see you hurt."
"I love you." Arya opened her eyes to find a thin sheet of tears on his eyes, and she brought her hand up to stroke his cheek. "But let's … take it slow, okay?"
He nodded his head once. Arya took a moment to herself to calm her breathing. She licked her lips, doing her best to keep it from drying because of her anxiety. And then finally, she leaned down and captured Charles' lips with a soft kiss. He returned it with equal intensity, only pushing against her enough for her to feel a fluttering in her stomach.
With shaky hands, she started unbuttoning his shirt. She felt him smile against the kiss, but otherwise didn't stop in his ministrations. Neither did Arya. After a while, she finished with all the buttons, and was allowed to finally slip the shirt off his shoulders. It floated to the ground as Arya pulled Charles onto the bed with her.
Once he had his head on the pillow, she pulled her shirt over her head. The feel of his eyes roaming her nearly-bare torso unnerved her. She fought back a blush. In an instant, Charles had risen from his lied-back position on the bed and pulled her down with him. Her head hit the pillow with a dull thud, and their hard landing was enough to make them bounce once on the bed.
The silliness of it all made Arya laugh, and soon Charles followed suit. When she stopped, her vision focused on the look of awe and wonder on his face. He traced a finger down her jaw, but his eyes remained on hers.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered.
Arya had his lips trapped in a kiss before he could say more. She didn't want him to. What he'd said was enough to last a lifetime in her heart. And Hank wasn't going to be gone forever. She wanted her first time to be with her first love—her first true love. She ran her hands across his smooth (but not necessarily chiseled) chest, smiling slightly when he gave her bottom lip a gentle nip. Humming, she did the same for him before licking the very same spot she'd bitten. Her hands travelled past his waist and to his back, rubbing her hands tentatively there.
Charles became impatient, it seemed, but he hid it well. The only way she found out was when his fingers slipped into the waistband of her cotton shorts, tugging once, before he seemed to realize what he was doing and returned his hand to the side of her head. Arya exhaled softly. She had known the moment was coming soon, and though there was still a small hint of unsureness within her, she knew she had to abide by their desires. It was what she also wanted, after all.
Before she could change her mind, she quickly pulled her shorts down, keeping her eyes squeezed shut and keeping her lips close to his; but due to this, her kisses turned rushed, sloppy. And this was one of the reasons why she kept her eyes closed. She was nervous to see his reaction, be it to her careless kisses or her almost-nudity.
As she uncertainly kicked her shorts off her feet, Arya felt Charles move a stray strand of hair away from her face, before softly gripping her chin in two of his fingers. He removed his lips from hers, but she could still hear and feel his breathing. She opened her eyes and saw only love and patience in his eyes; her hands stopped trembling.
Seeing this, Charles smirked, pulling his hand away from her chin, instead using it to lead her two hands to his hips. He willed her thumbs to loop into the waistband of his pajama pants, before pushing her wrists down, along with his pants. Arya focused on the glint in his eyes.
He kicked off his pants, along with his boxers, leaving him bare. Arya blushed and fought not to look down. With a tiny smile, Charles ducked his head and began kissing the spot between her neck and her shoulder. "Touch me all you want, Arya Jacobs," he murmured against her skin. "I'm not going anywhere."
She couldn't lie; she had long desired to bring their relationship to more intimate levels. After a few moments, she allowed her hands to travel past his shoulders and down his back. She gripped the tops of his thighs, and smiled a little when only a groan escaped him. She found that the sound of it sent heat travelling to her core; she wanted to hear it again.
Finally finding her boldness, she brought one of her hands to his front and cupped him. She earned herself another groan, louder and more primal than the previous. Slowly, she started rubbing her palm against him, up and down, and she soon found her hand slick with a clear, sticky substance. She knew enough about sex to know that it was a good sign.
Charles groaned yet again against her neck, and she responded by wrapping her fingers around his shaft and pumping it up and down. His muscles grew rigid above her and he fisted the sheets, breathing heavily.
Several seconds passed before she heard him gasp, "Stop." She did so immediately. He remained by her shoulder, planting soft kisses on the skin there as he calmed himself. Arya, without meaning to, caught a peek at his appendage.
It was bigger than she'd expected, and rock hard with thick veins protruding from the firm skin. The same clear substance that was on her hand leaked from the tip. She found herself turned on by the sight, yet also apprehensive. How was that even going to fit?
Charles raised his head and grinned, and for a moment, she thought that he had read her thoughts. But she was still in contact with him, so that possibility was quickly ruled out.
"My turn," he said.
His hands smoothed down her sides, past her waist and to her hips, which he held almost possessively. He captured her lips with his. Arya found her attention diverted from his hands, instead focusing on the deep kiss that he had initiated.
Then, his hands moved to the insides of her thighs, so close to where she wanted the to be. He rubbed at the soft skin there, his thumbs caressing the surface of her damp underwear. Arya moaned.
With one last sweep of his tongue, Charles broke away from her and began a trail of wet kisses down her neck, across the valley of her breasts, onto her stomach, and then on one side of her hip. She was practically dripping with anticipation as he stared down at him, watched him plant a kiss on her womanhood that was still covered by her underwear. There was a reverence to the act that took her breath away.
His thumbs stopped caressing her thighs, instead hooking onto the garter of her underwear and pulling it down, revealing her to him.
The blue had all but disappeared from his eyes by that point, covered by his dark pupils, full-blown from his lust. He caught Arya's gaze and held it as he ducked his head and licked a long stripe, from her entrance all the way up to her clit. She was the first to look away, throwing her head back in ecstasy while her hand came to rest on his head, gripping his hair in a silent plea that said, 'Keep going.' And he did.
He parted her folds with his fingers and entered her with his tongue, coaxing her juices out of her. He licked along her mound again, evenly distributing her wetness, before surprising her and pulling his head away. She whimpered at the loss but watched as he licked three of his fingers. He pressed those fingers down on her clit and rubbed, and they were long enough to cover the entirety of her womanhood, leaving her gasping for air.
Charles took advantage and entered her mouth again, letting her taste herself. The sinfulness of it wasn't lost to her and she moaned yet again as a new wave of wetness came leaking out of her cunt.
"So wet," she heard Charles mutter by her ear. "So fucking wet for me."
The profanity that escaped his lips only helped in bringing her higher into her own personal nirvana.
She felt the coil in her stomach tightening and tightening; she was so close. Charles knew it too. He brought his other hand down and easiler pushed two fingers inside of her, working her from the inside. He was kissing her but she couldn't respond, so lost in her pleasure.
"Don't stop," she managed to whimper. "God, Charles, don't stop."
He quickened his pace, hands moving in a seemingly impossible speed, and Arya came apart beneath him. Her juices gushed out of her, coating his fingers and, soon, his hand as he continued finger fucking her into oblivion.
She had blacked out at some point. When her senses returned, Charles was once more licking her womanhood, cleaning her with his tongue and holding her wide open with his hands.
Once he had finished, he glanced up at her and smirked, pupils still blown wide. "Ready for round two?"
Arya pulled him up to her level and kissed him. Hard. She didn't very much like how she tasted, but that wasn't enough to discourage her from holding him close. She barely noticed it when he unclasped her bra, throwing it over his shoulder while he continued kissing her, though at a much slower rate this time. (She also heard the telltale noises of a drawer being opened, a wrapper messily being torn and rubber being stretched taut, but she chose to ignore them.)
He had taken hold of his shaft and was rubbing the tip at her entrance, slicking himself in preparation for what was to come. She was no longer afraid.
"Are you ready?" he asked, somewhat fearfully.
In response, Arya placed her hand on the small of his back and pushed; then she buried her face into his shoulder, because there was pain, and she didn't want him to see just how much it affected her. She was positive that she had felt something tear.
"I love you," he murmured over and over again into her skin. Everywhere. Her lips, her neck, her shoulders, her collarbones, her breasts.
With eyes squeezed shut, she said, "I love you." God, she did. So much.
He began rocking his hips in a gentle rhythm, pushing in and out of her to get her accustomed to the feeling. It was painful at first, but the ache quickly gave way for pleasure, and then she was writhing beneath him again.
"Shit," she whimpered. Her nails dug into the skin on his back. He didn't seem to mind.
His hands came to rest on either of her thighs, and he pushed them apart, baring her entirely to his eyes. Arya took in the sight of him—sweaty, breathless, grinding against her with such passion and fervor that her entire being shuddered, down to the deepest parts of her soul.
He increased his pace as she gyrated her hips upwards, seeking the closeness that only he could provide. He slipped his hands beneath her and pulled her on top of him, so that he was on his back with feet planted on the bed and she was straddling him. The new angle brought him deeper into her, and she cried out as he began pounding into her in earnest. She leaned forward and placed her hands on his chest to keep steady.
Suddenly his fingers found her clit and rubbed quckly. Her muscles tightened and she froze above him, jaw hanging open in a silent scream. Her walls tightened around him, bringing him even deeper than before, and she felt him still beneath her as he came.
They remained like that for what had to be a minute or so, just catching their breath. Gingerly, Arya rolled off him and onto the bed, where she felt the results of just how hard Charles had been making love to her. She didn't very much mind the pain, though.
She and Charles adjusted so that her head was on his shoulder, and she was pressed up to his side. He planted a kiss on her forehead, and that conveyed everything that she knew he was too tired to say. He pulled the blankets over them and, in-between pants, he said, "We're not done yet, love. Rest up for round three."
Past the haze of exhaustion, she smiled at his words and nuzzled at his neck. Together, they fell asleep.