The two men stand, bodies crushed against each other; Erik's fingers tremble slightly as he struggles with the clasp on his slacks, and his teeth chatter all the while. He wants this – he wants this badly.
"Really?" Charles chuckles ruefully, his face flushing pink in the dim fluorescent glow. "Of all the times and places, now?"
"Shut up!"
Erik grips his jaw between two fingers, presses his thumb into Charles' quickening pulse point. "Don't even pretend for one second that you don't want to. How long has it been?" Erik kisses him, violently, drawing Charles' lower lip into his teeth.
"Ten years?"
"M-more or less," Charles replies with a rasping gasp, savoring the press and feel of his lips, missing the sting of Erik's teeth on his skin (however perverse that may seem). "At least. God, perhaps more –"
"And in all that time, didn't you ever once think of me? Didn't you ever stroke yourself and fantasize that it was me? Admit it!"
"Y – yes," Charles murmurs, as Erik slips a hand easily into his pants. He finds the hard, thickening seat of him, and oh, God, he has missed this! Within moments Erik has divested both himself and Charles of their slacks. He loves the feel and pulse of it, the texture so beautifully familiar, as he slides to his knees before Charles and takes him into his mouth.
"Erik!" Charles is frantic, his voice pitifully adorable as he clears his throat. "Erik, the others —"
"Last I checked, the blue teddy bear's driving, and the midget's taking a cat nap." Erik opens his mouth again and swallows Charles all the way to the hilt. Charles, for his part, cannot stand it. He clamps both hands over his mouth to stifle his moans as Erik sets to work.
He slides up, trailing his lips and tongue luxuriantly over every blessed inch of him. Charles is close, he can feel it, but he holds off. The last thing he wants to do is lose control.
But oh, he is a goner: Erik bobs up and down, slowly at first, gradually gaining speed. His tongue swipes side to side, and the motion does Charles in, unable to stanch a quiet sob as he bursts; Erik holds him inside still, as he did before, and sucks his seed as if it is the richest delicacy. Charles loses feeling in his legs and slides down the wall, panting as if he has run a great distance.
Erik holds him, pats his sweat-slick red hair, as he comes down from his climax. The sweet, beautiful man whimpers and trembles as he clings to Erik, a buoy of safety in an impassable maelstrom. He begins to cry. Erik can feel the soft drops against his shoulder. He licks them away, relishing their faint saltiness, the smallest trace of the prize. "Shhh," he soothes and rubs his friend's back, gently tracing small oblongs.
He has missed this.
But they will have time for it later.
There is still so much ado.