FOREWORD: Gosh, thanks for reading everyone. I'm flattered and relieved and happy and grateful all at the same time. Got a darker twist to this chapter though, so warnings apply. It's all building up to a HUGE plot point I have in mind. (I don't own characters, none of them kthxbai)
"Are you sure this is true?"
The urgency in Charles's voice could not be more obvious.
His usually calm face was creased with worry, his blue eyes clouded, his small, sweet mouth in a stern, straight line.
Angel could only look at his bare feet, leaving imprints on the soft carpet.
"Yes. There is a large group of renegade mutants who torture humans for the fun of it. Just. For. Fun," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Charles closed his eyes, probed deep inside the mind of this troubled mutant, and knew it to be true.
His mind saw bodies torn apart by a creature whose body glittered like ice.
He saw young children trapped inside a large metal cage. He saw the horror in their eyes as they watched their parents burned, mutilated, attacked, bitten, choked, thrown in the air and broken like dolls-
Charles let out a cry of anguish, startling Angel, who rose to his feet, wings unfurled, to go to his side.
Lifting a hand to stop him (for Erik was watching them both from the far corner of the room, and he could sense Eriks' annoyance, fear, worry, concern, jealousy and -goddamnit- lust, does the man ever stop -) Charles looked up, eyes bright with unshed tears.
"No, Angel, I am alright," he gasped.
He could still feel the pain, the revulsion that Angel felt as he witnessed the events.
"Angel, you need to tell me how you came to be among them," Charles asked quietly. He sat back down, annoyed to find his hands were shaking.
Angel gulped.
"I-I was foolish. A girl with insect wings on her back came to me, told me her name was Angel too and asked me to join her - we could be Angels of Death, she said. I told her I died long ago - and then I followed her."
"I dropped one of the... Humans. A girl. She was with child. From high up. I just dropped her," he whispered, his face devoid of colour, his eyes red-rimmed with self-hate.
He searched Charles's face for a sign of harsh judgement or disgust, but found none.
Erik gave a low growl, ready to rip this mutant to shreds -
"Erik, no."
Charles's tone left no doubt he meant to hear Angel out.
"Go on," Charles encouraged, and his tone was gentle.
"I had to get away after that. But nobody would let me go. They said if I left I would be hunted, my wings - " he gulped " wings torn. They would burn me on a stick, they would s-s-sodo-"
He could not continue. With a strangled cry he ran to the window and jumped out, his wings spread wide like a white cloud as he flew away.
"Angel!" Charles called out. "Come back!"
He put his fingers to his temples, trying to will him to come back, but it was futile. The mutant's mind was too distraught and Charles could not get through.
Picking up a vase Charles hurled it to the ground, watching it smash into pieces.
"Damn it all!" he swore, picking up another priceless antique.
Erik's hand, cool and comforting, stopped him.
"He'll be back. Now put that down, before you destroy everything your parents left for you, hmm?"
Charles struggled against Erik's grip on his wrists. "I'll damn well smash what I want to smash," he muttered sullenly.
Erik took the possibly one-million-dollar ancient Greek medallion from the hands of his friend- nay, lover.
His hand still on Charles's wrists, he led Charles (quite forcibly, since the telepath was struggling hard) to the large, long couch, and threw him down on it. With a grunt, Erik straddled him, pinning down his hands.
"I quite like it that you present opportunities for me to ravish you," Erik said, his voice thick. He bent his head, and nuzzled Charles' neck hungrily.
Charles laughed, he couldnt help it, and his frustrations dissipated - just a little.
So he let Erik do some wicked things with his tongue, for a while, but he needed to do what was more important - more important than a very horny Erik.
"You are incorrigible. I love you. But I have work to do," protested Charles, and pushed Erik away.
Surprised, Erik tumbled onto the floor, his fall broken by two inches of carpeting.
For a moment, his face darkened, but it cleared amost immediately. Charles, his mind occupied, was obtuse.
"Fine," Erik shrugged. "Go save the world or something. I'll just be here making metal sculptures and looking pretty."
Without another word, he strode out of the sitting-room.
"Erik, wait -" Charles shook his head. "Never mind."
He walked to the dining hall (his late parents were embarassingly proud of holding dinner parties) where his band of young students were laughing, talking, eating and throwing food into the air to be zapped into oblivion by Red's sonic screams.
"That is a waste of good food," he said loudly, sharply, as they looked guilty.
Regretting his tone almost immediately he softened.
"But at least your aim has improved Red. I enjoy not being at the end of one of your screams anymore," he joked, lamely.
The tension eased a little, and they began to pepper him with questions.
He indulged them for a while (Did you and Erik have a fight Professor? Is he going to bend stuff out of shape agan? I've got a new formula for your roses, Professor I think I could turn them blue I swear it'll be all the rage) but then he got down to business.
"I've got something to tell you, and it's not going to be easy," he said grimly.
Shocked by his unusually serious tone they stopped short.
Raven, ever the shrewd and tactless said, "We know you're sleeping with Erik. It don't bother us. So long as you dont have those violent fights again."
Charles stared at her, speechless. "That is completely- I mean- Erik and I are just friends - um," he coughed. They all stared at him, knowing looks on their faces. He blushed, and frowned.
"That's not the point. The point is, yesterday you met another one of our kind. But he comes with news I find is disturbing, and we may have to do something about it.
"There are mutants who don't want peace. There are mutants who want to use their powers to subject humans to torture, to their power."
Charles leaned forward, his fine-featured face grim.
"I don't know how to stop them. I only know we need to find as many of them who can agree with what we do here, and keep them safe and hidden until I can find a way for us to live out there openly, without fear."
Charles sighed, ran his hands in his hair.
"Someday we will be able to go out as we are. As we are born to be. But that won't happen until we can stop these violent mutants and push for peace."
Hank cleared his throat.
"Professor, how will we find them?"
The still-boyish young genius twisted the hem of his coat absently.
"We don't," a voice interrupted.
Erik stood at the doorway, his face dark, his long, lean body tense, as if ready to spring on the enemy.
"We wait for them to come to us," he said.
Charles looked at him sharply. "Erik, you know we cannot expose ourselves-"
"That snot-nosed bird found us," he said disparagingly. "And he took off too. How long do you bet it will take for the renegades to find us?"
Erik stalked the room like a panther. "They'll come to us. And we must be prepared."
Charles could see the truth in Erik's words but he was uneasy with the way the man spat them out, as if he was tired of being cooped up in the humungous castle - he saw it as a prison, Charles knew.
He also saw the tightness in his lover's jaw, the way his fists clenched, his lips..
God, those lips... Charles gave himself an internal shake.
"Erik, that would put us all at risk."
"The danger is better than us cowering here like rats!" he snarled suddenly, surprising everyone. "We can do nothing if we stay here, like cowards!"
Charles stood up, eyes ablaze.
"We are here because we are safe here! I want us to be safe! I am not about to put all of our lives in danger because you can't stand the sight of four walls!"
Erik knew what he said next would be a grave mistake, but he knew that Charles's peaceful stance would only lead to their deaths - if not now, then later.
Better he died in fighting for something he believed in, than using words and persuasion to try to turn the tides of what can only be inevitable.
"You are a coward," he hissed, towering over Charles. "You hide here believing in your peace, your intellect, your flag-waving. I'm here to tell you it won't work!"
He pushed Charles into the wall, frightening the wits out of the younger ones.
"Wake up!" he screamed. "You either start to fight or you stay here and wait for your death!"
Charles could only stare, his face bone-white with shock. Oh he knew, how he knew that Erik was right in so many ways. But he would not give up. He cannot. He could not.
With a strangled cry he lashed out at Erik with his mind, causing Erik to reel back, stumbling over the carpets.
"Then go! Go and fight!" he screamed back. "Kill as many of our own kind as you want to!"
"Fight, and get yourself killed! There are hundreds of them and less than ten of us! Go ahead, be a killer, kill like how Shaw killed your mother -"
Then Erik exploded.
With a roar, he wrenched the metal grills from the windows and sent it straight at Charles, trapping him against the wall.
Rubble fell from the ceiling, glass from the window panes shattered.
All the students rushed forward to protect their profesor, but Charles stopped them.
"NO!" With one free hand he froze them. Their eyes stared at him, shocked.
"This is between me and Erik."
"Damn right it is," Erik hissed. Watching his slender lover struggle against the bonds, his eyes narrowed.
"Listen to me, Charles. I've been in prison before. Whether it is an old English castle or a cellblock of brick, it is still a prison," he said, slowly, menacingly.
Charles shook his head. "No, my love. The only prison is your own past."
Erik's eyes widened.
"What do you know about the past?" he demanded. "You grew up in all this!"
"A prison is still a prison... Even if it is a castle," choked Charles, echoing his lovers' words even as the metal frame around his neck tightened like a noose.
Erik bared his teeth, tightened the metal even more. Charles felt his control over the young mutants wavering. He could see their thoughts, they were ready to do anything to get to him, to get Erik away.
"Erik. Please. You're hurting me," he gasped. "And - I think- Raven might hurt you something q-quite awful if I let go of her."
Erik gave nary a glance to the young ones. He knew he could overpower them easily.
Raven, with her fashionable metal chain belt.
Hank, with his stainless steel necklace.
Alex with the machine Hank created for him to control his powers.
Red, well, he had some piercings in areas which would hurt, a lot, if they were pulled out.
"Send the kids away, Charles," he ordered.
"I can't."
"Yes you can. Use your powers to tell them to go away, to leave the room and go back to theirs and sleep."
Charles felt tears prickling his eyes. He couldn't breathe.
But he did it. He told them to go away. He pushed at their wills with all his might, and they left.
Then it was him, and Erik, alone in the room.
He really, really couldn't breathe.
"Erik, I can't breathe," he wheezed.
The bonds loosened a fraction. Erik was still breathing hard, his body inches away.
"Erik. Please. I can't breathe!" pleaded Charles.
A pause, then the metal bonds fell away, crumpled in a mutilated heap.
Charles took a deep breath, let out a gasp of relief as he rubbed his neck, which had an angry red mark right across it.
Erik stared at him, and without warning, grabbed him by the neck with one hand and pinning him down on the floor with another.
Fear like he had never experienced before gripped the telepath. He thrashed against Erik, who gripped his neck hard enough to hurt and limit his air supply, but not enough to choke him to death.
But somewhere inside Erik, a darkness had sprung. All he knew was that he wanted this man to hurt like he hurt, to be helpless like he was.
To know that the violence that exists in the world is real, to pull the blinds of peace and non-confrontation from the blue eyes.
He wanted Charles to know, that death, blood, terror - were all real, and inevitable.
Ignoring the choking gasps from Charles, he unbuttoned his jeans, and pushed them down.
He undid Charles's brown khakis next, pulling it off, revealing pale, slender legs.
Still, he kept his grip as Charles stopped thrashing and could only stare with terrified eyes at him.
He ignored the stabbing pains in his forehead as Charles tried, desperately, to use his powers.
He lifted Charles's hips higher, and drove himself in.
Charles had never thought anything could hurt him so much. While he had now gotten used to Erik, nothing prepared him for this.
Unable to cry out, he could only choke, his back arched as his body spasmed with pain.
Erik felt tears run down his face as he knew what he was doing was abhorrent, cruel, unforgiveable.
But how else would he be able to warn Charles of his foolishness? How else would he be able to drive his point across- to get Charles to fight, to be ready to take lives?
His whole life all he has seen is peace, he knows not of the cruelties of the world.
But I know. I know how cruel the world can be.
He thrust, deep, even as he cried in heaving sobs.
"This is violence, Charles! This is how much pain there is in this world!" he shouted even as he continued to drive himself in deeper.
His hands were no longer on Charles throat, they were on the elfin face, in the light brown hair. His lips were everywhere, as if trying to seek forgiveness.
Charles could no longer fight but he did not want to.
He knew all that Erik felt. But by god, he wished he didn't.
When Erik finally spent himself, Charles rolled over on his side, numb with shock and pain.
Erik put his arms around Charles' body and Charles let him.
In that one moment he wanted to hate the dark-haired mutant, to push him away, to never look at that face again.
But he couldn't.
"Charles. Oh god. Charles," whispered Erik, kissing his cheeks, his eyes, his lips.
Something broke inside Charles, and he met Erik's lips fiercely.
His tongue slipped inside Erik's mouth, met and tangled, until a moan escaped those lips.
Moving downwards, he kissed Erik's neck, nibbled at his collarbone, gently grazed a nipple as Erik took a sharp, desperate breath.
He continued his descent, finally reaching the desired destination, and took his lover in his mouth.
Erik could only cry out his name over and over as he gave pleasure.
Then suddenly it was a frenzy of movement, he found himself on his stomach, his face in the soft, fuzzy carpeting as Erik took him again, slower this time.
Groaning in unison, flesh meeting flesh, the two men gave and took.
Charles did not know why, but he needed Erik. He needed Erik to control him, to dominate him, to make him feel pain and love and desire and desperation.
He would not feel alive otherwise.
Grunting, he pushed himself against Erik's manhood, trying to get Erik inside him as deeply as possible, eliciting a groan from Erik that seemed to come from the very core of him.
"Charles god, please don't do that I wont be able to stop myself-"
"Inside me, Erik, please, come inside me."
With a loud cry, Erik did, and so did Charles, though quietly.
Exhausted, Erik collapsed on Charles, his body a mass of heat, muscle, sinew and pure sex.
Breaths slowed, hearts stopped pounding.
Charles, mind foggy with everything, close his eyes and slept, only vaguely aware that he had been lifted and carried to his room.
He awoke on his own bed with Erik on him, head resting on his chest, one arm across his stomach.
Charles looked at Erik's face, so peaceful in sleep. If only he could find the same while he is awake, thought Charles with a pang.
He stroked the short, dark hair absently, relishing in the gentle morning sun, and the sight of his lover.
His other hand stroked Erik's muscular, well-defined arms.
He winced when he spied a bruise on his own hands where Erik had gripped.
If he continues like this I will need to see the doctor. And if the doctor asks why the bruises, it will be such fun to say "Oh my lover likes it rough. Really rough. Like, life-threatening rough."
Charles almost laughed, but he didnt want to wake Erik.
He needn't have bothered though, Erik's eyes soon fluttered open.
"What time is it?"
"Late. And I think the young ones know what we did last night."
"Let them."
Erik gently kissed Charles, just right above the heart. He circled a nipple and Charles gasped, pushing his head away.
"You never stop!" he protested.
Erik laughed, a low rumbling laugh.
"No, I don't." He reached his hands downwards.
"Erik.." Charles said warningly. Erik ignored him, and began to slowly, gently, and passionately make love to him - as if making up for the violence the night before.
Charles savoured his lover's unexpected tenderness, and they both climaxed slowly, luxuriously, and in each others arms.
When they both finally got out of bed it was past noon, and the mood was sombre elsewhere in the house.
Nobody met Charles's eyes as he instructed them, prepared them, taught them.
Erik was away, on the grounds, possibly to avoid the discomfort.
The students saw the bruises on Charles' neck (goddamn turtlenecks were so hot) but pretended not to notice.
It was only two days after Angel left that he came back, his wings torn, his face bloodied, beaten and tortured to within an inch of his life.
And the day after that, they were attacked.