Chapter 6: Point Blank
It's a time of milestones, Charles thinks, a step forward on the feminist front, a university integrated by military force, two people in space for the first time in history, the closing of My Fair Lady after nigh on three thousand performances, and Erik asking to be shot in the head. At point blank range. Point blank, Erik? You really think I can shoot a friend, shoot YOU, point blank? The gun is heavy in his hand as Erik presses the barrel to his forehead, practically aglow with fatalistic excitement. Oh, he believes that Erik can stop it, certainly, but that's hardly the point, and he can't do it. Nothing's changed since that night, and he can't do it. He hands the gun back to Erik and walks away, shaking his head and suggesting something a little more challenging (not involving guns). Erik trails after him through the garden, demanding to know exactly what the problem is, and finally, he tires of what borders on pestering.
"Fine," he says, whirling around. "Fine. If you're so adamant about stopping bullets, then why don't you shoot me instead? Same exercise, and you even get to control your own timing."
"What?" Erik stops dead in his tracks. "Charles, you can't be serious."
"Oh, I'm very serious, Erik. Go on." He faces his friend properly and can't help the grin that curves his lips at the sudden hesitation he sees, can't help feeling the least bit vindictive and wanting to give Erik a taste of his own medicine. "Whatever happened to 'You know I can deflect it!'?" he teases to diffuse the sudden tension.
"Charles, that's..."
"I have complete and utter faith in you. You need a situation? Here you have one. Now, are you up for it or not?" He crosses his arms and taps one foot in a show of impatience.
Eventually, Erik levels the gun at him, and he can almost smell the trepidation. "No, I can't," Erik breathes, lowering it, an echo of his own refusal several minutes ago. "Charles, I can't. What if..."
"Ah, ah, you're not getting out of this so easily, my friend." He lifts Erik's hand and presses the pistol to his own forehead, almost exactly mirroring the other's earlier actions. "Fair is fair. You were going to make me shoot you. And don't you dare say it would have been all right that way had you failed."
"Charles, please."
"Do it, Erik. You can. I trust you."
Erik hesitates to pull the hammer back, but at length, he does, thumb quivering slightly as it moves. Charles lets his hand fall to his side, but his gaze is unwavering as their eyes lock, and he nods almost imperceptibly as a trembling finger curls on the trigger. It fires, and he gasps.
At the last second, Erik took a step back before firing and deflected the bullet's trajectory an instant before stopping it dead barely a quarter of an inch out of the barrel. There was never any doubt that he could have, but Erik clearly wasn't taking any chances. As the bullet falls crumpled to the stone path, Charles wants to say something witty about the precaution, wants to say it should teach Erik never to make that request again, but his mouth is dry, and all he can think of is the way the shot has sent all the blood in his body straight down. There's something about the gun still pointing at him, something magnetic, and the sound of the safety clicking excites him. He swallows thickly, even though he knows it's clicking on.
"Good God, Charles, don't you ev—"
He catches Erik's hand as it falls and brings the pistol back up to blow gently on it, never looking away from eyes now wide with surprise. He watches Erik, senses the curiosity as he continues slowly, making sure his breath ghosts over the entire barrel to cool it before extending his tongue tentatively to touch the underside, but it is snatched away before he can take it into his mouth, and he is pulled into a deep kiss. Instead, warm metal presses into the crack of his arse through his slacks, and he moans into Erik's mouth as he arches closer, burying one hand in dark hair and slipping the other under fabric to rub tense muscles with his fingers as his companion moves the gun up. His breath quickens as it slips under his waistband, and he has to break the kiss for air, but he presses his forehead to Erik's cheek and inhales deeply of slightly spicy aftershave.
"And you accused me of an ulterior motive," Erik chides, amused.
"In my defence," he murmurs, nuzzling a broad shoulder and caressing the turn of slim hips. "I've never had a gun to my head before, so you are no more surprised than I am, my friend."
"It's still a naughty request to make."
The reply comes with a hard smack across the bottom and OH. He tightens his hold on the taller man as he protests, "What? You started it."
Erik is backing slowly across the garden, tugging him along. "I didn't make you go through with it."
Another spank, and he bites back a whimper. "H—How is it my fault that you caved in?"
They come to a stop beside a stone bench, and he's so hard it hurts. "You were very persuasive, Charles."
The barrel inches down his spine, chafing the ridges lightly, as Erik continues to spank him, and OhGodyes he can barely think. "I—I didn't... Ah!" Rough fingers pinch reddened flesh as his trousers slide down his legs. Well, at least, he thinks he didn't. It's difficult to be certain of anything when Erik is distracting him like this.
Erik's low chuckle resonates through his body, and he's leaning heavily on the other because his knees feel like jelly. "I know," Erik whispers tenderly, a hand burying itself in his hair to rub his scalp. "But you're still a bad boy, Charles." The words don't have to be punctuated with a spank on bare skin to make him shiver with desire, and the sound that rises in his throat is almost a whine. Erik sits down, pulling him into his lap and tilting his chin so their eyes meet. He can see his own face through Erik, all flushed skin, red lips and lust-darkened eyes, and he wonders if he always looks so debauched when they're together. "You should make it up to me."
A thumb traces his bottom lip, and a fingertip ghosts across his entrance enticingly, and he almost forgets to respond amid the thoughts of having them both inside him. "Oh. How?"
Suddenly, the gun is pressed to his temple, and the jolt that sends through him makes the breath catch in his throat. "Fuck me, Charles," Erik orders hoarsely as he pulls the hammer back, and it undoes him completely.
He doesn't hesitate, tugging articles of clothing off as he presses his lover down to the bench and nips his way down glistening skin, leaving light teeth marks in his wake. Normally, he would incredulously ask, "Right here?" but presently, he doesn't think he'd stop if everyone in the mansion walked out to catch them at this. Erik shifts, so his knees are on the grassy ground with his chest to coarse stone, and moans deeply as Charles presses his tongue into him. Erik squirms, the rough surface chafing pert nipples as he does.
"Charles." The way he says it would probably make anyone blush, but presently, it's the hottest thing Charles has ever heard, and he doesn't manage more than a moan in response. Inside, Erik insists. NOW.
Charles shifts, coats himself in more saliva and presses in slowly. Faster, Charles. Harder, Erik urges, Tanned knuckles are white from gripping unfinished stone tightly, and he pries Erik's fingers off the bench to interlace with his own as he complies, thrusting brusquely into the spot he remembers. He trails kisses down a muscular back, muffling his cries as he reaches around to stroke Erik, and the additional layer of shared sensation is too much. Erik comes as well, almost as soon as he does, and they shudder as he milks the last few drops from the other and licks his stained fingers. It's a little bitter on his tongue, but as they lie there panting in the glow of the late morning sunlight with his head resting on a broad shoulder blade, life seems impossibly sweet.
"EeeeeeeyARGH!"
The sudden scream from above makes him glance up just in time to see Sean hurtling into the trees, and a cursory check shocks him. Oh Christ. He gasps.
"Charles? What was-"
"It seems," he answers, troubled, as he pulls out and fixes his attire nervously. "...that Sean caught sight of something very distracting that caused him to miss his timing on flight practice, and I— I think I wiped his memory of it."
Erik seems disquieted by the revelation as he dresses and dusts himself off unsteadily. "That's not something y—"
"I know," Charles interrupts hurriedly. "I didn't intend to, I swear. I didn't even realize I did it until I checked."
"You can do that by accident?"
He frowns. "I didn't think so, but I don't have a better explanation for the sudden absence of that memory." He runs a hand through his hair. "Well, nevertheless, come along now. I'm going to need your help getting him out from the tangle of tree branches he's caught in." Privately, he thinks it will be much harder to look Sean in the eye.
"I'm afraid tree branches aren't made of metal, Charles, but I'll do what I can."
He senses that Erik is still bothered by what happened, but strong arms wrap around him as the gun floats into Erik's pocket from some distance away, and it comforts him just a little. He needs to be more careful, but in the meantime, something glinting in the distance catches his eye.
Charles is reclining in bed, brows furrowed in concentration as he scribbles notes in the margin of the paper he is reading, when the knock on the door comes. A quick check tells him it's Erik, and he wonders if the other is displeased that he spent most of the day with Moira. But he has her now. She stopped reporting to her CIA superiors several days ago, and she's already leaving out many details in the write-up she's drafting for submission when this is all over.
Come in, he tells him because it's easier than raising his voice.
He watches in mild fascination as the lock disengages and the doorknob turns to let the door swing open silently.
"What are you reading?" Erik asks as he closes the door behind him quietly because it isn't fiction for a change.
"This? A genetics journal. Getting a doctorate is only the beginning of a long life of academic work, my friend." He smiles and sets the publication down on the bedside table as Erik crawls into bed beside him. "What about you? What brings you here tonight?" he asks, turning to face his lover.
"What you did earlier... Can you do it again?"
Charles blinks in surprise. Erik is usually less keen on telepathic examination.
"I want to remember," he explains, sounding frustrated. "There should be more of that, more of her, but I can't recall anything, no matter how hard I think. I never realised before, but they shouldn't be gone."
"Ah," Charles says, understanding. It must be vexing, remembering so little of someone so important, even if for a long time, the memories had hurt too much to remember. "Of course. I'll do everything in my power. You need only wish it." He draws Erik close beneath the covers, so the other's head is resting on his chest. "Whenever you're ready."
He lets their minds touch, lightly at first, so Erik can adjust, because this is different, more invasive. Uncovering repressed memories is more than just sharing, and he's moved that Erik asked, that Erik trusts him despite the doubts that are making him hesitate. Charles has never had any problems with suggesting things to Moira or manipulating the CIA officers, after all.
"You're right. I've been less responsible than I should have been," he admits ruefully, lacing their fingers together. "But I would never intentionally alter someone's memories, Erik."
The other shifts to look him in the eye, reaching up to trace his bottom lip with a callused thumb. He nips at it lightly, and when their lips touch, slowly, briefly, it leaves him breathless. He can't define what's different.
"I suppose you've had every opportunity if you so desired," Erik concedes, and his voice is strangely gruff.
"Not you, my love. Never you," he promises softly, less coherent than he'd like because it's hard to think for some reason.
"I know, Charles."
The surge of emotion that rushes him from across their mental bond elicits a sharp gasp, and he can't speak.
"I'm ready."
He crushes Erik to him protectively, possessively. Thank you. I know how much this means to you.
No, Erik corrects as their minds intertwine. But you will.
