A/N: I am so behind. I did not proofread any of this. Typos all over the place. Man, sorry!

Charles still had some modicum of control left to him in that he did not upend Erik's satchel all over the floor as he undoubtedly would have if he had been in charge of fetching the condoms. Instead he dug through, getting more and more frustrated, tossing out an empty gum packet Erik had somehow missed and a balled up piece of paper, which apparently was interesting enough for Charles to get distracted.

"What is this?" he questioned, unballing it.

"It is not a condom, I know that," Erik growled back and then glared at the man as he reached down and started stroking himself, carefully and slowly. "Should I see to this myself while you figure it out?"

Charles glared at him, tossed the paper away, and snatched out his wallet.

"Hefty as this thing is, it does not feel as though I'll find lube in it."

Fuck.

"Don't you have anything? I'm not a discerning bottom, especially at this point." Except he guessed he was because he didn't suggest the man fall back on tried and true saliva. He hadn't bottomed in so long, he wasn't sure that would do it.

Frowning, Charles started to go through his own duffel bag that was already spewing T-shirts and slacks by the TV.

"Is face moisturizer oil-based?" Charles questioned, turning around with a small bottle.

"At this point I really, really don't care."

Charles didn't seem to either. With lotion in one hand and wallet in the other he bounded up onto the bed, straddling Erik's hips and grinding down on him with just enough pressure to make Erik groan and arch up against him.

"Take your shirt off," the man demanded, circling his hips and digging through his wallet. "Post script: your driver's license photo is absolutely adorable. Please grow your hair out again at the earliest convenience."

Snorting, Erik pushed the wallet away with one hand and grabbed Charles' jeans front and dragged him down hard against him, moaning in the instant before Charles knocked his hand away and pinned him to the bed with a hard grip to his collar.

"Do that again," Charles smiled. "And I'll have to punish you."

Charles unbuttoned Erik's shirt, peeled it off him around kissing and caressing, slid his undershirt up and off, folded his pants and underwear down and off, took off his shoes and even his socks and only in some distant, dreamy part of his mind did Erik think it sort of amusing, being undressed like this, like a doll. In the close at hand part of his brain, ardor left no room for amusement.

"Turn over," Charles directed, but he wasn't sure how Charles expected him to be motivated for that with the way the man was sucking on his hipbone. Slid his hands up the backs of his thighs, digging painfully into the flesh of his ass and biting down on his stomach.

"Ow—okay, okay!" he hissed, pushing the man off him and turning over. Came up completely off the bed, standing and toeing off his shoes and pulling hoodie and T-shirt together over his head.

"You look amazing like this," the brunet murmured, standing there and taking him all in so that Erik shivered with anticipation, flexing against the satiny bedspread.

"Don't take my picture again," Erik warned, glaring as much as he was capable of, looking up at the man still dressed in his over-long jeans and not looking like he was going to take them off soon.

"You're lucky I haven't a camera on me or I'd be sorely tempted," the man laughed and laid down beside him, his clothed leg slipping between Erik's naked ones, his hand caressing over Erik's back and hips, kissing his temple, his shoulder.

"Take those pants off and put that condom on," he suggested, rolling his hips under Charles' hand.

"I think you might be a bossier bottom than you are a top," Charles teased, but pulled the packets out of Erik's open wallet. "What?" the man huffed, dropping them both on Erik's spine, making him flinch and laugh. "Now this is just excessive. How much unplanned sex do you generally expect to have?"

"It's not like they're one size fits all," he justified.

"For the general population they usually are," Charles said, sweeping them off the table of his back and taking the space up himself, covering him like a blanket and setting him on excitable edge with nothing more than the noise of a lotion bottle snapping open.

He wanted to tell Charles to not be too thorough, that he wanted to feel this tomorrow, slight but noticeable, but he'd already gotten called out on being bossy and, as Charles massaged his hip and slid into him slow and sure, he suddenly got the idea that he should just let Charles take this one, just let him take care of it, lay back, relax, enjoy it all.

Enjoy he did, moaning deeply into the pillow he was suddenly smothering himself with as Charles added a second finger and slid perfectly home without further preamble, leaving him feeling perfectly rushed, stretched.

"Is that okay?" Charles questioned, voice vibrating over Erik's skin, his breath warming his back. Another moan had to suffice as his answer, and the creak of Erik's knuckled fisting in the covers.

Charles didn't rush him on the third finger, just scissored and spread, hitting that spot only when he felt like it despite knowing exactly where the fuck it was. When he did hit it, Erik could never anticipate how it was going to happen: soft and teasing, a bare brush of fingertips, a grazing grind, a purposeful plunge, or the kind of wrenching stab that drove him about out of his skin. There were three fingers digging inside him before he knew it and he couldn't even tell how long they'd been there for-all sense of time seemed measured in heartbeats, in hot breaths on his skin, he rhythmic thrusts inside of him.

Fuck me, fuck me, he thought, but couldn't find breath to speak it. Charles was psychic, Erik had long ago decided, but must have been distracted because he didn't hop to. It took a remindful tug on long brown locks to get him back on track.

Charles gave a parting kiss and bite to his side, nuzzling his skin before pulling back. "I take it you're ready for me, my lovely?" the man sighed against him, giving one more brush against the prostate for sweet parting before slipping out from him.

Erik tried to answer, maybe managed to mumble something lost in the noise of Charles slipping off the bed and somehow, slowly, Erik realized the man was stripping and turned to watch, smiling drowsily at the pale expanse of skin as Charles peeled off his borrowed jeans and underwear, reaching out to stroke between the man's muscular legs, grinning up at him when the brunet gasped pleasurably.

"I can't wait to get you inside me," he admitted, and maybe he'd been too emotional all day for any embarrassment or chagrin fit into his arsenal now. Groaning, eyes fluttering closed before he gripped Erik's wrist hard, Charles warned, "Then you'd best stop that or I'll never get around do it."

Erik stopped, hugging his pillow to himself instead with an eager, sleepy grin. He definitely did want Charles to get around to it.

The first thing Charles did was arrange him to his specifications, like a very adult doll, pushing Erik's legs apart, drawing one knee up enough to keep him off his stomach completely. Erik discovered he loved the feel of Charles over but not touching him, the heat and the haunting sensation of being hovered over. The man's knee pressed into the mattress beside his, his hands weighted the bedspread-one beside Erik's hip, the other by his ribcage.

Nice as hovering was, he liked it too when Charles dipped down, nuzzling Erik's hair, the back of his neck, rubbing a stubbled cheek against his slick shoulder, licking his spine, kissing his prominent hipbone. He shifted up, caressing his hands up Erik's taut thighs, brushing his fingertips to the inside line, pressing his thumbs into the flesh of his ass and suddenly dragging him apart and open.

Erik's eyes popped wide where he was pressed into a tortured pillow, breath catching in his throat at the shock and awe of the moment. To have Charles-sexy but definitely sweet Charles-digging rough fingers into his flesh and spreading him wide open and simply looking at him, into him-it was a surprise and Erik was equally amazed to realize he found it rather hot, held somewhere between surprise and ardor.

He thought it slipped a little further towards ardor when he heard Charles' erratic, puffing breath, felt the man's thumb shift over and caress the entrance of him, gasping when the Brit's rough thumb edge caught the rim of him. He moaned breathless into the pillow, realized he was drooling and tried to swallow but there was so little breath to go around that he could barely manage to pause that swallowing required. His hips were working on their own will at this point, flexing impatiently into the debauched bedspread. He was officially one of those people adding filth to those black light news exposes.

"I'm really very sorry if you regret this in the morning, Erik," Charles huffed, reaching around his hip and ghosting his fingertips along Erik's pulsing cock. "But it would take greater willpower than I possess to stop now."

Erik badly wanted to use Charles' own line on the man and tell him that if he didn't hurry up and fuck him then he'd toss him over and do it himself, but somehow when it came out it sounded like "Please, Charles, oh, oh, please." Worse, it came out as practically a sob and definitely like a whine, he wanted the man inside him so badly. Somehow he would get his revenge on Charles for driving him to the point that he could sob and beg for sex all at the same time. He would get his sexy, sexy revenge.

Or maybe not, since Charles went suddenly obedient and knelt purposefully between Erik's splayed legs, massaging his shoulder with one hand and guiding his fervid cock right into the tight confines of Erik's center with the other.

He groaned for every thick gritty inch of it, stretched so full, filling up so slowly but surely, about smothering himself in the pillow, digging every joint in a writhe into the mattress. Unwittingly, he accidentally wriggled away from the penetration for a moment, but Charles pulled him back and he didn't fight it. He seemed to completely blank out for a moment and when he came to he was huffing weakly into humid cotton with Charles pressed fully against him, all the way in.

"God," he hissed blankly, and couldn't resist but to tighten down on that strange intrusion inside of him. How long had it been since he'd allowed himself to be used like this? Plunged into like fresh snow and split open like a ripe peach? Too long, he could feel by the deep ache Charles' cock was already creating inside him, the feeling as if it were shoving out of its way his internal organs, leaving surprising little room left inside him, as if his insides were now straining at the confines of his skin.

"Oh sweet fuck, Erik," Charles gasped, most likely due to his sudden clampdown. He attempted to relax around the incursion, twisting his spine and pressing his shoulder into the trembling man buried so deep inside him. Charles got the hint, had to slip slightly out of him to shift upwards and kiss him as thoroughly as this distraction allowed.

"You're amazing, Erik, so amazing," the Brit murmured against his lips, flicking out and licking them. He skimmed a hand up Erik's chest, massaging his nipple to a point and then dipping down to stroke his cock. When Erik thrust into the tunnel of his hand it shifted the man's cock inside him beautifully.

Aching already, Erik took one last panting kiss for good measure and turned back, rubbing his face into the damp pillow, sighing as he ground back testingly against Charles' hips. He made sure his knee was keeping him from completely stifling his sensitive shaft under his weight and Charles started to rock back into him, setting a slow but thorough pace that kept him on the edge of outright sobbing. He blamed it on the way Charles' thighs dragged up against him when he thrust, the way the man's fingertips ruffled the tip of his cock, dragging leaking precum over the shaft of him, the way he nuzzled into Erik's increasingly sweaty hair, licking beads off his shoulder before biting down gently, nibbling and suckling him and driving him fucking mental.

It only got worse, or better, he wasn't sure which, as the man increased his rhythm.

"Sorry, darling," Charles hummed, exchanging his cock for his hip, dragging him in closer and not so much thrusting as coiling into him, doing his best rendition of a corckscrew despite no literal screwing going on. Erik could only moan pitchily into his muffling cotton, arching his back to get more of the man, taking over Charles' duties on his cock at an admittedly quicker, more punishing pace. Despite the copious dollops of precum oozing out of him it was still slightly uncomfortable and while he thought he rather liked the uncomfortableness a bit, he still reached around-first thought to still Charles' hips rolling into him like a twisting rocking wave in order to think after some extra lube, but somehow he ended up digging his hand into Charles' flesh and dragging him only closer.

God but it was so good to feel the beat of Charles' hips as they flexed into him and relaxed out of him. He didn't ever want to be rammed into again-all he'd want for the rest of his life was this incredible coiling action that was so hard to describe, even to himself, so that he tucked it away under muscle memory and sensation rather than with any sort of tagline (besides maybe 'fucking incredible, do this always').

Charles seemed to like it too-his breathing was quick and pitched against Erik's shoulders, the man's hips increased the pace beneath his hand as he dug his fingers into the smooth skin, definitely leaving marks.

"I need," he gasped, thrilled at the way his voice hitched on every thrust. "Give me..."

He couldn't finish, lost his train of thought as Charles shifted his hips back and twisted in again, sparking a line of electricity up his spine that shorted out his brain: all he could do was gasp and shiver and rock his hips back harder onto that driving cock. Charles groaned, rumbling into his shoulder blade, scraping his teeth over the flesh and then nuzzling into the mark. His hips became quick and erratic for a moment before they manfully came back under control.

Erik gave up on trying to relearn English and simply spared as much saliva as he could manage into his palm, pulling grudgingly away from his hold on Charles' driving ass.

Hand securely back on himself, he gasped in breath and shoved up a little further onto his knees, just so he had the leeway to arch back to meet Charles' thrusts, slamming himself down, whole body tightening with the pleasure of it and the heady power of making Charles' breath stammer, of making him call out shrilly, of making him scrabble at Erik's hip and shoulder like he was searching out the hold that would save his life.

"God fucking damnit, hell," Charles hissed, pulling back and ignoring any concept of strategy at this point, snatching only enough space to properly meet Erik roughly on every thrust, not bothering to set his own rhythm but simply following Erik's, fast and ruthless.

Erik was on edge already, hand slipping unbearably quick within the tight confines between hips and bedding. But it was a done deal when Charles grabbed him by the back of the thigh and shoved him agonizingly open, legs spread so wide he heard his hip crack. Then the man thrust inside of him, hard and determined, and hit that exact fucking spot that made him shout a barely muffled version of Charles' name, and rather than letting him reclaim his mind afterwards, he dove back in and hit it again-again and again and again until Erik was crying the man's name to high heaven and coming so hard he couldn't think-speak-breathe-all of it was beyond him and around him and on him he couldn't manage it and when things made sense again he realized Charles hadn't come. Despite the constrictive spasms of his orgasm, Charles hadn't come.

When the Brit sensed Erik was capable of cohesiveness again, he dropped down, draped across Erik from shoulders to coiling hips, shifting his weight into those erratic thrusts, hitting everything that was oversensitized and rent within him.

"Tell me," the man gasped, biting Erik's shoulder, holding him partway around the waist and jerking into him raw and irregular. "Tell me...you want it. Tell me you like it."

That was easy even in Erik's taxed state. Her grappled his hand back, clutching it over Charles' on his shoulder, and assured, "I love it; I love it," gasping and hitching and groaning. Once he started saying it he couldn't stop, could only mingle it with anything else that came to mind, which was all Charles' name and demands to come in him, to fuck him, he loved it, he loved it.

Groaning low, the man's hips lost all restraint and rattled into him in trembling shudders, coming hard and passionately. Only when Charles gulped in heavy and huffing, did Erik realize the man had been holding his breath. The thrusts slowed, but the man didn't fall away automatically, even when his thrusts wound down to a grudging stop; he just lay there with his head resting heavily between Erik's shoulder blades, breathing in gulps, and stroked his ribs absent-mindedly.

Erik's own mind didn't seem to come back to him until Charles did pull away, falling over to his side with a breathless, recovering laugh. Until then it was still focused on the wide stretch of Charles' slowly-calming cock inside him, couldn't resist tightening down on it a little, just to feel it. He shivered lonesomely when Charles pulled out of him, feeling all too acutely the jarring emptiness of his own body without Charles there filling him. It made him realize what he had to do, and put the question too far home to put it off any longer.

"Charles," he gasped, reaching over to touch the man's shoulder, his chest, to just touch his skin. "Charles, will you date me?

"My god, I am good," the man laughed, reaching down and touching himself. "I've addled your brain."

"My brain is not addled," Erik growled, forcing himself up to his elbows to growl at the man as he escaped to the sink to toss the condom and wet a hand towel. "I'm being serious!"

"Hm," Charles just said, coming back and scrubbing him down for a second before pulling the slick bedcover out from under him and onto the floor, fighting for the covers and tucking them both in together.

"Well?" Erik asked, refusing to let himself nod off with his head on Charles' shoulder.

"Well what?" the man yawned.

Erik punched him lightly in the ribs, head-butting the man's jaw, fully considering giving it a demonstrative nip.

"Well about dating me!"

"Don't be silly," the man argued, putting his hand over Erik's eyes. "Go to sleep."

"Sleep! It's five o' clock!"

"I doubt it. Well, rest then."

Erik relaxed back against his body, holding the man around the waist but refusing to close his eyes. "I'll rest if you agree to date me."

With a deep breath, Charles pushed him over onto his back, frowning down at him on the pillows. "Stop that. I'm serious now."

"Stop what?"

"Stop joking like that."

He didn't get upset. Maybe he was too exhausted to be upset at this point. He just reached up and stroked his hand back through the man's damp hair, tucking loose strands behind his ear.

"I'm not joking," he grinned. "I've been thinking about it for ages. This wasn't quite how I was thinking of asking you, but I'm asking you. Seriously."

Closing his eyes, Charles' put his hand firmly over Erik's mouth, pressing their foreheads together.

"You've had a very long day," Charles murmured. "Please just rest. This is not something you need to be worrying about right now."

But now worrying was exactly what Erik was doing.

So when Charles laid back down beside him, Erik got up to his arm, staring down tt the man with his heart in his throat, pounding uncomfortably.

"What?" he questioned past the impediment. "Why…why won't you answer? Is it…is there someone else?" Determined to get to the bottom of it, he refused to back down from the uncomfortable question. "Is it Darwin?"

"Darwin?" Charles scoffed, seemed genuinely surprised at the idea. That was rewarding at least.

"Well, what then? I'm not saying you need a reason, I mean, if you just don't…don't like me like that…"

"It's not that," Charles said, brows furrowing painfully. "Erik, you…you don't know what you're asking for."

"I know you're busy," he argued, to prove that he did know the particulars of what he was talking about. "Filming and stuff I know you're on the road a lot, obviously, and I'm not asking you to move here and it's not like I'm talking about moving in with you or anything, jeeze, I know it'd be a lot of long-distance but…but I think it'd be worth it. We're on the same coast, at least, we don't live that far apart."

"It's not that," Charles growled. "Erik, just stop."

And the man was legitimately upset, he realized, was even a little angry, and Erik was so surprised that he didn't press, didn't argue because his brain had shorted out in shock and couldn't come up with any argument. Luckily, a spell of silence seemed to be what Charles needed to build up some reserve sentences.

"It's not…look, I don't know what I did, or said, or lied about to get you to think this would be something you want. I can't give you what you want. I can't give anyone what they want."

Charles' voice was getting pitchy, maybe even borderline hysterical, so Erik gave him some breathing space before he said, slowly and calmply, "What is it you think I want then?"

Gulping, staring off someplace past his shoulder with a wild sort of contemplative glance, the man babbled, "I don't know. At first I thought maybe you just wanted someone to get your rocks off with, and I was okay with that, I can definitely handle that, I like that. But now… I don't know. Someone to take care of you? And you have to see how impossible that is. I am busy and I do travel and my god my sister hardly trusts me to take care of myself, how could I take care of another human being? How could you trust me to make even the most nominally decent go of it?"

"Hey," Erik growled. "I understand…I get why the last few days would have led you to believe that I need some extensive and time-consuming seeing-to, but I'll have you know before this my high school voted me Boy Least Likely to Require Coddling." Charles was apparently convinced enough to allow this a slight laugh and Erik fought on, caressing the man's hair back. "You can handle this."