The man, hand poised to knock again, looked ecstatic for exactly one moment before he saw who it was, and then just looked confused. They spent a couple seconds exchanging studious glances.
He was an older man-maybe in his fifties, with straight black hair heavily streaked with gray, especially at the temples. Very tall and very thin, he looked as if someone had taken a normal-sized man and simply stretched him out an extra foot or so. He was dourfully academic-looking. Colleague then.
"Can I help you?" Erik asked easily. The man had finished his catalogue of Erik's state and his confusion was still in full force. Erik could imagine why: he was barefoot but still had his jacket on. He was dressed impeccably, but definitely rumpled. If his lips weren't kissed red, slick and swollen, maybe even split, then it was a miracle. The man cleared his throat and said, "I must have the wrong room."
Erik nodded readily. This was definitely the best plan of action for as long as Erik didn't know who his man was. What if he were the Dean of the goddamn school? He didn't want Charles to get into any kind of trouble for having him over, and somehow he didn't think the Dean had rented out this hotel room for Charles to fuck his boyfriend. This was a business trip. Unless Charles' business was sex (and he didn't think the duties of Biology professor stretched quite that far) he should not be having sex in his business accommodations.
So Erik tried to think of something that would assure the man he definitely did have the wrong room, with no Charles Xavier in any sort of vicinity. He couldn't come up with anything, so he just said goodnight and closed the door quickly before the man figured out the truth on his own.
Afterwards, Erik listened to make sure the guy had walked off, and then stripped off his suit jacket and waist coat, folding them neatly and sending the photo to Charles.
He managed through his shirt and even pants, but before he could get to his underwear Charles was crashing through the door.
"You bloody blighter," he growled (admirable job, really, Erik was obviously rubbing off on him) and tackled Erik onto the bed. "You're so awful!" he hissed between kisses, pulling Erik's hair, scratching him went he went for his briefs. Erik worked just as frantically to bring Charles up to speed in the lack of clothing department. After a short struggle Erik managed to land himself on top of the brunet and Charles let him keep his victory.
Thus triumphant, Erik slid back so he was straddling Charles' thighs and started pulling clothing from him-first the jacket, yanking it down off the man's arms before shoving the sweater and T-shirt all the way up, reaching around to Charles' shoulders to pull the fabric up over his head and off him completely.
He was immediately distracted by so much skin and collapsed down again to run his mouth over it, from the thrumming of the man's jugular all the way down to his navel. Sprouting a new hatred for clothing of all types, Erik cursed out the pants Charles was wearing and tried to get his hands to be steady enough to handle a belt and a thin button.
"You're speaking German," Charles pointed out in a panting voice, gasping when Erik accidentally palmed the cock currently straining at the fabric of his pants.
"Sorry," Erik growled, yanking the smooth gray slacks off Charles' long legs in one impatient tug.
"No, I like it," Charles sighed, legs flexing as he pulled Erik close again with his heels.
"Tu es sur que tu prefere pas le francais?"
"Ouai, j'suis sur," Charles laughed.
Erik was going to snark back, but Charles' hips rolled beneath him, hit him just so, and he couldn't speak. He realized Charles' underwear had somehow escaped his clothing pogrom and growled.
"You still have yours, why can't I keep mine?" Charles said, not allowing Erik to answer as he kissed him ravenously.
Erik decided the rest could wait, at least until Charles needed to come up for air. In the meantime, he let his hands roam across his newly-freed lands: the broad expanse of back, the smooth hips, tight and coiling with each rolling thrust, thighs taut and muscular, arse none the less so. Charles was hard beneath him, and Erik shivered with the thought that he had yet to see this elusive cock, yet to feel it bare and hot in his hand.
He had to remedy this.
Pinning both hips to the mattress, Erik grabbed two fistfulls of fabric and pulled away, bringing the briefs with him till they could be tossed to the floor. He moved to mold himself back over the brunet, but a foot to his stomach stopped him.
"You too, now," Charles demanded breathlessly. Erik tried to swallow but his mouth was so dry, and his tongue felt so thick. His fingers fumbled with the hem of his underwear, but he got it eventually and shoved them off, pushing Charles' foot away from him.
The brunet got up to kneel in front of him on the bed, staring up at him in wide-eyed happiness, wrapping his arms around Erik's waist.
"You're so gorgeous," he beamed, as if proud of himself for finding such a handsome man to fuck him.
Erik grinned back, blushing with the flattery, and held his face still to kiss him, sweeping his tongue against Charles' lips for access. He couldn't explain that no one, not a single person in his entire thirty-five years of living had ever called him gorgeous before, so he let his kissing do his talking for him and let it explain how grateful he was to have someone like Charles in his life now to flatter him and get him off.
He wasn't sure if Charles got it or not, but he didn't have that much time to consider it as Charles leaned back and collapsed the both of them flat onto the bed.
Erik couldn't help himself, he pulled away and looked down to see their cocks throbbing together between them. He felt proud and lucky and horny as fuck all at once.
"In my coat pocket," Charles rasped into his ear, nuzzling. "Go-get it."
He followed this good advice, rolling to the edge of the bed and scrambling for Charles' jacket, nearly tearing out the pocket as he snatched at the goodies there: a plastic packet of condoms, a travel-sized container of Vaseline.
"They don't have KY at gas stations these days? What's the world coming to?" he questioned as he laid on his back and started working at the plastic package.
"I'm an old-fashioned boy," Charles opined, rolling closer and taking the package of condoms from him, biting them open in one practiced move. He undid the individually wrapped sheaths with his hands though.
"Don't want to ruin one by accident," he explained, seeing Erik's disappointed glance.
There was no room, no will-power, for disappointment, though, when Charles swept his hand down and gripped Erik's firm by the base of his cock.
Erik couldn't help it, he cried out hoarsely and his head snapped back completely of its own accord. He tried to lift it back into place-after all, he would much rather watch Charles put this condom on him than lie there gaping and the bland white ceiling-but it felt too heavy to move.
So instead he just closed his eyes and focused on the blissful feel of it, Charles' hands on him, so sure and precise, as they dragged the condom expertly down his cock.
"Oh my," Charles murmured troubledly. That didn't sound good, so Erik had to look. Exerting amazing personal will-power, he shoved himself up on his elbows and dragged his head into proper position.
"What have you done to me?" he gaped, staring at his cock, now bubble-gum pink.
Charles frowned and grabbed the condom package again, rubbing his bottom lip as he read.
"Apparently you now taste like strawberries," he said, and Erik opened his mouth to shout at him that he did not want to taste like strawberries, but the words were drowned out by a moan that dropped him back to the bed like a sack of flour as Charles leaned over and sucked him fully into his mouth.
The professor stopped as suddenly as he had started, pulling back with a grimace and wiping his tongue off on the roof of his mouth.
"Ugh, that is not strawberries," he groused.
"You did this," Erik gasped-he had meant to growl, but gasping was all that was available to him after that move.
Charles pouted. "I did not. I was distracted. You were distracting me."
Erik didn't have the patience for arguments at the moment though. He lunged up and claimed Charles' rosy mouth domineeringly in payback. The man tasted like latex and strawberry perfume now-truly abysmal. Charles didn't disagree.
"I'll need to rinse this taste out of my mouth, I think, before you enjoy kissing me again."
Erik didn't know what he meant, was about to suggest they go brush their teeth or something, when Charles pushed him down onto the bed and started sucking on his neck.
The man continued on from there when he met no resistance, moving to straddle Erik's thighs and working his way down. He licked and kissed Erik's collarbone and where his collarbones met, then his breastbone; he claimed first one nipple and then the other, licked his ribs and his navel, breathed into the coarse hairs below, and then studiously avoided his aching cock, prominent and neon pink.
"Fucking hell," Erik hissed, reaching up and grabbing two fistfulls of bedding to avoid shaking Charles into being less of a tease. When the other man chuckled the hot breath blasted over Erik's balls and he turned his head to gnaw on the flesh of his arm rather than call out. It was a good thing, too, because when Charles put his mouth on him, so right there, even his own flesh had a hard time muffling his moans.
His man must have been confused by the muffling, he pulled back, skimming his body up Erik's until he was close enough to push the taller man's arm out of his mouth.
"Stop that, love, before you hurt yourself," Charles admonished.
Erik took this opportunity to grip the other man's body tight to him.
"Don't tease me, sie Göre: let me inside you already," Erik growled to his face. Charles smiled down at him and rocked his body on top of his, rubbing them together deliciously, then spreading his legs over Erik to do it all over again.
Erik's head dropped back again, his eyes losing focus as he spouted more German, mindlessly. He had had enough, he knew he had, and luckily Charles agreed. One last grind for old time's sake and he pulled off his discombobulated partner and scrounged around for the lube.
"Up and onward-to the pillows," Charles directed when he returned, and smacked Erik lightly to get him going. Once Charles' words were translated, he complied, dragging himself backwards up to the pillows and collapsing back again for Charles to kneel beside him and kiss him.
"You want to get me ready?" Charles whispered against his lips. It took a few seconds for Erik to focus past how much he loved feeling Charles' words on his skin and actually understand the meaning of the words he was saying.
"Ready for what?" he mumbled.
"For the next presidential election-what do you think, for what?" Charles laughed. He stopped when he realized it wasn't the imminent sex addling Erik's mind: the guy really had no idea what Charles was talking about.
"Well, if you want me to take this up the arse you'll have to stretch me out first," Charles explained, stroking Erik's cock lovingly as he spoke. Erik put a stop to that immediately before he was too far gone.
"Oh, that," Erik said knowingly. He had had a few men before, after all, who had insisted on it. If Charles wanted it he certainly wouldn't begrudge the man his preferences. "Lie back."
Charles collapsed back eagerly, bending his knees and spreading his legs and grinning up at Erik like this was some joy rather than a hassle of a preliminary to the main event.
Erik tore at the tight plastic protection of the Vaseline and finally got the top off. Slicking up one finger he slid it into the other man quickly.
"Ah!" Charles cried out, but Erik didn't know if it was a good cry or a bad cry. The man hadn't told him to stop though, so he quickly added another finger. "God!" Was that a good God or a bad God? Erik frowned. The sooner this was over with the sooner he could move on to what he had more experience with. With that he could tell a good God from a bad God, he was sure of it.
So he pulled his hand away and dipped into the Vaseline, sheating three fingers, but he had barely gotten between Charles' legs when the brunet shoved his hand away and cried "Don't you even think about it!"
"What?" Erik asked in confusion as Charles sat up on the pillows. "You said to get you ready."
"Yes, but," Charles slowed down, looking as bewildered as Erik felt. "But that was...you need to slow down."
Erik's face fell, he could feel it. Why did Charles want to draw this out?
"You want to make me feel good, don't you?" Charles whispered, climbing almost directly into Erik's lap. The taller man grabbed him with the hand not currently greased up to high heaven and grinned widely.
"Yes," Erik enthused.
"This will make me feel so good," Charles sighed against his lips before brushing a kiss there, on his cheek, at the angle of his jaw.
"This?" Erik asked skeptically.
"Mmhmm," the professor hummed, dropping his head to kiss Erik's shoulder.
Erik shrugged. "If you say so."
"Mmmmm-just do exactly as I say, all right?" Charles sighed happily, falling back onto the bed again. As Charles arranged himself anew, Erik nodded doubtfully and awaited orders.
"Now, one finger-slow."
Erik did as he was told, held Charles' knee with his free hand for balance and eased forward just one slicked finger, pressed it in so slowly he couldn't help but think this would take up half the night. When he was in to the knuckle, free fingers curled close to the bedspread, he looked up to see how Charles was taking it.
The man seemed perfectly pleased, not impatient in the least. He smiled at Erik encouragingly and reached out to rub his shoulder.
"Good," he sighed. "Very good. Now two. Slow."
So Erik pulled out till he was just skimming the man's hole, and added a second finger, just to the first joint.
"So good, so good, so good," Charles sighed, and Erik didn't think he was being facetious. The man's eyes were closed, his head thrown back against the pillows, his free hand palming the covers like a lover. Erik didn't like that. He was his lover. If the guy was going to palm anything it should be him.
To regain the man's attention he pressed in further, to the second knuckle now. Charles opened his eyes, looking at him disapprovingly, but didn't say anything about not listening to directions. Erik just grinned back at him, and wiggled his fingers, more to be amusing than because he thought it was going to do anything to the man.
But Charles gave a stilted sort of moan, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he gulped.
"Deeper," he gasped. "Go deeper-and move-move again."
Erik pressed in all the way and curled his fingers before twisting them in as near a full circle as his wrist would allow, and then back again. He nearly had to catch the brunet as his spasm jolted him almost clear off the bed. "Again, again!" Charles wailed, but when Erik did it again he just shook his head petulantly.
"Deeper-please please please deeper," he gasped. Erik pressed in as far as he could, pressed in and out, fucking the man with his fingers. He couldn't resist his newfound enthusiasm: no one had ever reacted to his fingers this way. The closest approximation to his feeling as this moment was 'godlike'. He had gone through his whole life without fully realizing it, but apparently his fingers were magic.
Charles was scrabbling at his shoulder and obviously had no idea what he was doing. When Erik twisted, wrist up, curled his fingers further, reamed him again, the man moaned wantonly, his hips bucking as he tried to impale himself deeper on Erik's fingers.
"What do you think?" Erik asked, and realized that his mouth was stone dry. "Time for three?"
"Three, three, yes, three," Charles moaned, but Erik wasn't sure the man had any idea what he was saying.
"Maybe we'll just move on to the whole fist," he tested. But Charles slit his eyes open and glared down at him.
"I'm not brain-dead, just enjoying myself, now where's that three?"
Erik grinned back at him and slid in three. He looked carefully and tried to gauge: was this about how much his cock was going to stretch the brunet? Maybe, at the base of his knuckles, it could be...He tried to press in all the way but Charles stopped him.
"Not yet," the man sighed. "Twist."
Erik tried to lick some moisture into his lips but his mouth had nothing to share. He gulped dryly and did as he was told. In just a couple more minutes Charles was pushing himself completely on to Erik and begging him to push back.
"You're ready now, I think," Erik suggested, which got Charles' blinking attention.
"Oh, right, yes," he said, pushing Erik's hand away and kneeling up shakily, looking especially boneless, which caused Erik to ask,
"Is it really as good as all that?"
Charles smiled at him and scraped his hands through Erik's hair, tilting the man's head back to nip at his jaw.
"You wan' a try?" he murmured against Erik's jugular.
Erik went to say Maybe another time but only got as far as the first word before dryness of his mouth choked him up.
And by then Charles was already shoving him down against the pillows and bending his knees for him.
Well, Erik mused. In for a penny, in for a pound.