Part Seven

Falling

Charles was in the front row as promised. During his first lecture, Erik had to force himself not to stare at Charles all the while but Charles did not return the courtesy – he watched Erik intently, seeming to everyone else like just another eager student, but Erik could see the teasing look in his blue, blue eyes, the occasional flirtatious smile he aimed at Erik when their eyes met.

The young man made it incredibly difficult for Erik to stay on track. Often he found himself stumbling, trailing off when caught by Charles' gaze, only to stutter and desperately claw at his memory to try and remember what he had been explaining to the class. He hoped that the other students in attendance would take his flawed lecture as first day nerves. He hoped more so that none of them noticed the faint flush to his skin or the times when he found it impossible to resist giving Charles a hungry look in return for his needy ones, or how when Charles answered one of his questions he did so in this voice that Erik decided you would have to be deaf not to understand, not to hear the teasing, I've-seen-under-that-suit tone.

But nobody did hear it. Nobody picked up on the choking sexual tension between the foreign professor and the affluent student.

They did, however, see quite clearly when Erik gasped loudly and his hand flew to his head, eyes screwing shut and body bowing as if under pressure. Startled young voices echoed his name about the room, but Erik could barely hear them, could barely even stand upright as images flooded his mind.

Charles with his legs spread, moaning breathlessly, red lips gasping for air.

Charles clawing at the bed, body quivering and gleaming with sweat.

Charles with his plump, kissable lips wrapped around his cock, eyes wide sapphire globes boring into him as he maintained eye contact throughout the act at Erik's insistence when he had practically ordered him to do so.

Charles' sly grin when he'd taken the order, they way he'd said "I like a man who knows what he wants" even as he licked his length, eyes gazing up and holding Erik's as he committed the scene to memory…

Recovering himself after the floodgates closed, Erik shot Charles a look that was part reprimand, part plea but mostly sexual threat.

"I experience migraines. Nothing to worry about." He'd told the class, keeping his body behind the podium at all costs due to the painfully hard erection he had.

Charles simply gave him a wholesome, innocent smile as his eyes gleamed wickedly.

The first time Erik saw Charles, he could never have fathomed they would be like this. More so, he could never have imagined the sweet looking young man could be so sexually deviant.

The lesson progressed, Charles mercifully staying out of his mind, taking notes as he spoke and acting so nonchalantly normal Erik almost wondered if it had been his own imagination.

His own imagination was not as vivid as that.

Erik knew that Charles had a brilliant mind. Though Erik was of a higher intelligence than most, Charles was something special. Not only was he kind, charming and altogether stunningly attractive, his mind was something else, something intricately, gloriously wonderful. It made sense, however, that he would be so gifted intellectually – his power was that of the mind, of course he would have a mind that surpassed all humanity. He wasn't human, not really, so to say that his mind, his sheer intelligence, was inhuman, was no stretch.

Though Erik was the professor in that classroom, Charles, even with his superhuman intellect, surprised him with his knowledge of physics, clearly comprehending every word that came out of Erik's mouth and answering every question correctly when the rest of the class merely scratched their heads or gave flawed or wholly incorrect answers. That is not to say he had a bad class – they were all willing, capable students, but he worried that he had set the bar too high for a class of humans.

One thing he had not expected was for his class to be full to capacity, and by the end of his first hour he had gained confidence in them, gratified to find that they were all genuinely interested in what he had to say.

By the end of the hour, he was also absolutely consumed by the desire to bend Charles over the podium and fuck him in front of the class as punishment for distracting him during the lecture. Instead, he called him into his office using his professor voice, Charles gathering his things and following him through as the class dispersed.

Without a word, Erik grabbed him by the collar and shoved him hard against the nearest wall with a thump loud enough to be heard in the next room, but he was damned if he cared.

"What did I tell you about staying out of my mind?" He breathed into his ear.

"I didn't go into your mind. I merely projected what was going through mine back at you." Charles explained with an audible smirk before Erik caught his lips in a bruising kiss, pressing full bodily against him as his hands held either side of his face exactly where he wanted it, rough hands on smooth skin.

His kiss was full of the frustration Charles had inflicted upon him, needy and demanding and so, so good Charles moaned into it, hands grabbing at Erik and clinging to him as the breath was stolen from him, all coherent thoughts diminishing into one clear, resonating word: Erik.

As they broke apart Erik laced his fingers through the gossamer brunette locks of his favourite student.

"If you keep up this behaviour, Charles, I'm going to have to punish you. We can't have the class thinking I let my students get away with such inappropriate behaviour, can we? I should make a demonstration of you, shouldn't I?" Erik threatened as he tightened his hand in his hair until it was painful, but painful in the most delicious way.

Charles felt himself harden instantly at the words, at the mental image they conjured, at the heat in Erik's voice and the return of his sexual dominance. There was no doubt in Charles' mind any more: Erik was very much a dominant, but that was alright; Charles could quite happily be submissive for a man like Erik.

He had never thought of himself as a submissive, but the thrill the mere suggestion of being dominated by Erik, and for an audience no less, gave him had him thinking that life at Oxford was going to be very interesting indeed.

"A demonstration?" He practically squeaked, desperate to hear what Erik had in mind.

"Oh yes." Erik grinned his shark smile, hand slipping down to cup Charles' ass. "What happens to naughty boys, hmm?"

"I don't kno – oh!" Charles gasped when the hand on his ass slapped down hard, pushing him into Erik's waiting body as one hand stayed tight in his hair. That hand pulled hard, forcing Charles' head back, Erik's teeth scraping against his pulse.

Melded so close to Erik's body, he could feel the prominent bulge in his trousers.

"I have a class coming in as we speak. Can you hear them? They will be taking their seats, waiting for me. If I dragged you out by the hair and took a seat for myself, I could put you over my knee and spank you in front of them all. That's your punishment. Then, when you're begging for me to stop, you can apologise for distracting me in class by going on your knees and sucking my cock." He whispered into Charles' ear.

"Oh, god, Erik…" Charles groaned. Had Erik told him he was going to fuck him right there, right then, he would have happily acquiesced without a second thought, the hell with anyone who might hear or see, the hell with how newly acquainted they were. If Erik could talk like that, he couldn't even begin to imagine what he could actually do when his dirty, tantalizing words were put into action.

"But you seem to like that idea, don't you?" Erik said as he rubbed his palm against Charles' crotch, his cock twitching at the attention. "You want me to do just that. You want everyone to see what a greedy whore you are."

Erik, please. He begged with his mind, unable to even form words as teeth and tongue teased his ear and neck.

I could push you onto my desk and fuck you right now, couldn't I? You wouldn't even try to stop me. Erik projected back to him as he kissed him fiercely.

The wonders of telepathy – even if his mouth was busy, he could still communicate with Charles.

A knock at the door separated them. Before Erik answered, both quickly arranged themselves, straightening clothes and hair, Charles cleverly placing his bag in front of him to hide his arousal, Erik holding a handful of papers in front of himself.

A young woman stood at the door, seeming oblivious to what had been taking place mere feet from her.

"I'll be right there." Erik smiled charmingly at her. "Charles, I'll have those books to you imminently. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Amazed at Erik's ability to appear totally nonplussed, Charles nodded and stood in a daze.

"Thank you professor." He said as he brushed by him to leave. You're right. I wouldn't stop you. He added on his way out, Erik's face priceless as he stared after him.

-x-x-x-

The day passed by swiftly, Erik giving lectures and Charles studying dutifully, but both men were occasionally distracted by thoughts of the other. Charles found himself in the library with a pile of books and a sore neck, rubbing at his aching muscles and wondering what Erik was doing and whether he should take him some lunch, or if they should go out.

He liked Erik. He liked him an awful lot for someone he'd met only a few days ago. He was a good companion, interesting conversationalist, could have fun and hold his drink while still being an intriguing older man and intelligent, well-versed professor. All in all, Charles felt like he'd hit the jackpot with Erik and could only hope that the professor was as interested in him.

Reminiscing about the previous night and that morning had a small, sly smile creeping across Charles' face as he decided that if that was anything to go by, he could safely assume that Erik was as into him as he hoped.

"What are you smiling about?" A female voice jolted him out of his fancies as he looked up guiltily to see Angel standing over him.

"Nothing." He smiled broadly at her, but she wasn't fooled.

"Oh come on, don't play coy with me mister, I know that smile. Who is he?" She sat herself on the chair next to him, reclining elegantly like a queen in old jeans and leather boots.

It may have been a little stereotypical for Charles to have a close female friend who he gossiped with and all in all acted like a horrendously camp fool with, but Angel was his confidant, a feisty young woman who took an interest in his love life and often tried hooking him up with various friends of hers. Charles would not deny having a certain effeminate side to him and it was with Angel that he indulged himself. He wouldn't have told anyone else about Erik, not yet, anyway, but Angel was another matter. He trusted her, and she would bitch at him if she wasn't first to know, anyway.

"You can't tell anyone, Angel, not a single soul, or I shall avenge myself." He said, making her laugh before she tried to keep a straight face while holding her hand up.

"I do solemnly swear that all knowledge of who Charles Xavier is boning shall remain locked in the darkest recesses of my mind." She giggled, and Charles gave her an admonishing look before laughing along with her, shaking his head at her silliness.

"Not here, let's go get a cup of tea, shall we?" He suggested, and they walked arm in arm to the cafeteria, ordering tea to go and taking it outside, strolling through the gardens aimlessly as they sipped their drinks.

"So, who is he?" Angel asked, and Charles smiled shyly.

"You haven't met him, not yet." He said, and she gave him a look to say carry on. "His name is Erik. He's a guest professor from Germany."

Angel gasped dramatically, stopping in her steps and forcing Charles to do the same, turning him to face her and wagging her finger at him.

"Charles Francis Xavier, you naughty boy! A professor! And a foreign one, at that. How very devious of you. God, he must be ancient, I didn't know you were into grey hair and wrinkles."

Charles smacked her lightly on the arm. "He's thirty, actually, only eight years older than I am."

"Only!" Angel laughed. "No, you're right, that's not bad at all, a bit of experience, eh? So, have you experienced his experience yet?" Charles blushed a little and gave her a small grin. "You have! Oh, you are naughty. So, do share with the class."

"He's, ah, well, he's very…talented. He's a mutant too, you know." He said casually, and Angel's eyes widened once again.

"No. Freakin'. Way. He's like us? What are the chances!?"

"Very slim indeed, my dear. So you understand why I like him, taboo or not, yes? He's attractive, experienced, as you said, intelligent, funny, witty and he's one of us. I don't have to hide from him. It's a rather wonderful thing." Charles sighed in content. "It's early days yet, I know, and I keep reminding myself that he's only in England for six months but Angel, I really do like him an awful lot."

With an almost manic smile Angel hugged him with one arm so as not to spill her tea over him.

"Six months is a long time. Who knows what will happen? I'm so happy for you Charles, I can't wait to meet him. You will introduce us, won't you?"

"Of course, darling, I couldn't keep you away from him if I tried." And it was true: Angel would hunt Erik down and interrogate him before the day was out if he wasn't careful.

"I hope he likes you as much as you like him." She added quietly. "I don't want you getting hurt again, not like before."

"That was different. Phillip was practically still in the closet, and very human. Erik can move metal without touching it and is very much out, so far as I can tell. He's cooking for me tonight, you know."

"How sweet! It's best if you stay away from the stove though, Charles, I don't want you setting your new boyfriend on fire before I get the chance to meet him."

"He's not my boyfriend." Charles blushed. "We haven't even been on a proper date yet."

"Charles, how long have you known him?" Angel narrowed her eyes at him.

"Three days." He answered sheepishly, drawing a gasp from his friend.

"Three days and you've already slept with him?" She gasped.

"We haven't – not that, not yet, only, we just, and we did sleep together – "

"Calm down, Charles, breathe. I don't need to know the ins and outs of your sex life, I know how awkward you can be. But you haven't actually had sex with him yet, have you?"

"No, not yet." Charles said, realising that by adding the 'not yet' he had admitted to Angel that he did very much want to and did indeed intend to.

"Good, because you aren't a whore, Charles, make him work for it at least." Angel said, patting his arm reassuringly. "Now, tell me all about him."

It was an easy task and a sweet diversion. Charles explained in great detail how wonderful Erik was, but somehow he managed to leave out certain details. Angel watched as Charles breathlessly regaled her with tales of Erik's wit and charm, and most importantly, how he was a suitably challenging opponent at chess.

-x-x-x-

By lunchtime Charles was faced with a dilemma. He stood in a deli ignoring the enquiring looks he received from multiple people as he stood with his fingers pressed to his temple and eyes closed. He had a feeling that both he and Erik would be using the 'migraine' excuse frequently.

Do you like smoked salmon? He asked Erik mentally.

Yes, actually. Why? Came the instantaneous reply.

Lunch. He replied simply.

This talking in my head thing is rather…peculiar. And I meant what I said about staying out –

I'm only projecting words to you and receiving yours, nothing more. I can't see or hear your thoughts or memories, I can control what I give out and receive back to an extent when I focus. This is entirely conversation based. Think of this as a mental telephone, but the only number you have is mine. He explained.

God, I must be crazy, but I'm ok with that. As long as you aren't lying, because if you are, Charles, well, we talked about punishment, didn't we? Erik added, his mental voice somehow managing to be more evocative than his vocal one.

And God damn the bastard, he sent Charles the image of him bent over his knees, Erik's hand slapping down on the bare skin of his ass.

You've already figured out how to send me visuals? Damn you to hell, Professor Lensherr. He cursed, receiving an amused laugh as a response. I'm tempted to force you to eat the cafeteria food.

Oh, don't be such a child. Erik chuckled.

Charles huffed in response, cutting him off and paying for the food.

He took the brown paper bag to Erik's office, where he knew he would be due to the mental link he had created with the man. He had debated with himself on whether to do it, but after their mental to-and-fro it had practically made itself. Erik had told him to stay out of his mind, and so he would: he kept his promises and had no desire to invade his privacy anyway. The mental link simply allowed him a constant connection to Erik that allowed him to know where he was when he concentrated on it, and, if he wanted to, he could open the connection further and allow Erik's surface emotions to reach him.

He wasn't sure if that was a step too far. He wasn't even sure why he was so concerned with a man he'd met only three days ago. All he knew was he had never gone out of his way to find a good quality deli to buy somebody that wasn't his sister lunch. He also only had that mental connection with one other person, and that was none other than Raven herself.

He had, however, blocked the mental highway to avoid any contact with her since she had angered him. He had felt her prodding at it a few times but had refused to relent until she eventually backed away. With the blockade up she couldn't talk to him through the link and he wouldn't have to pick up on her emotions.

He knocked at the door to Erik's office, the now familiar voice of his – friend? Lover? – giving him permission to enter.

Seated at his desk, his suit jacket draped across the back of his chair and his shirt sleeves rolled up, Erik looked up and smiled at him, eyes going to the bag.

"I brought lunch." Charles announced cheerfully, flopping into the other chair on the other side of the desk. "You have a choice between smoked salmon with cream cheese, capers and rocket or char grilled chicken with hummus, cheese and lettuce."

"You actually brought me lunch." Erik smiled, shaking his head. "You are something else, Charles Xavier, you know that?"

With a shy smile, Charles rolled one shoulder. "So are you, Professor Lensherr."

Unwrapping the sandwiches he put them onto the plates he had picked up on his way, cutting them in half and placing half of each one on either plate so that they both had half of either sandwich. He then produced two bottles of mineral water and two slices of lemon cake.

"We ought to have some tea, really." He frowned. "You should have a kettle and tea pot in here."

"I'm not quite the tea junkie you are, Charles, in fact I rather like coffee a good deal more." Erik said casually, but at the shocked and wholly appalled look on Charles' face wondered if he had in fact just told him he enjoyed bathing in the blood of orphaned children to keep his skin young.

"Good grief, you are a heathen." He gasped. "You prefer horrible bitter coffee to delicious refreshing tea?"

"I like coffee." Erik shrugged. "I know you Brit's like your tea but in case you forgot, I'm not British."

"Oh, my friend, I cannot believe you would choose coffee over tea. That's punishable by death in England, you do know? And Erik, I told you, I'm not British, I'm American." Charles took a bite out of his salmon sandwich. "This is unbelievably good, by the way. I should go to that deli more often."

Erik copied him and tried the sandwich. His mouth experienced a food orgasm. "Well, taste in hot beverages aside, you have excellent taste in sandwiches, Charles."

They bickered, joked and debated as they ate, Erik gazing at Charles with hopeless fondness as he watched Charles throw his head back and laugh. Kinky mind games and public flirting aside, Erik realised with a start that he had completely fallen head over heels for the diminutive pseudo-British boy. His fascination with him ran bone-deep – what had started as a fatal attraction, lust at first sight, had evolved swiftly, without him realising, into so much more.

He actually experienced the sensation of falling as he sat completely still, all because Charles gave him the sweetest, most sincere smile that lit up his eyes like brilliant blue Christmas lights. Erik was in trouble. He had lusted for the man with a burning fever but now, now he simply wanted him all for himself. He wanted to be with him every moment of every day, see that wonderful smile again and again, directed only at him.

He wanted Charles because Charles was, well, Charles was Charles.

Erik Lensherr was falling in love at break-neck speed.