Erik's powers were not physical. He wasn't super-strong or super-fast. His ability to manipulate metal came from his mind. But it was a mind attached to a body, and currently neither was in the best of shapes. The pain drugs had left him with a slightly fuzzy feeling now and then, even though he had been off them for a few days now completely. Cecilia's meds had been strong and suppressed the pain perfectly, but he wanted to be free of the influence. She had told him that the general fatigue he experienced was normal. His body needed all its energy to mend the wounds and mental processes were down to a minimum.

Not what he had wanted to hear!

That his body was weak and not ready for anything bothered the mutant. He had never been this helpless, felt so useless. Never. Not even against Shaw on the sub. He had had control of his powers, even if they had been almost useless against his 'creator'. He still recalled the struggle to keep the massive metal beams from crushing him, his head pounding with what had probably been a mild concussion, looking into the eyes of the man he had hated with every fiber of his being.

Charles tried to calm him, tried to distract him from his inability to think clearly enough to lift assorted pens in a complicated maneuver. In the beginning it was nice and easy to sit on the too comfortable couch, listen to Charles read, watching TV, listening the radio. But it didn't work for the long run.

And pens zapped through Charles' study, narrowly missing an old painting and slicing along the wall.

Charles raised an eyebrow when a letter opener ripped up an armchair. Stuffing exploded from the rip and showered the antique chair. It had probably cost a fortune.

"Sorry," Erik muttered, aghast at his loss of control.

It got him a mild smile, then his lover returned to his research texts. Erik knew he was being monitored in the least intrusive way, that Charles was ready to intervene should he do something really stupid, but he was too proud to give up. And too stubborn, something he always claimed Charles was.

After another fruitless hour he snarled a curse, flinging the metal parts all over the room in his rage. He was back to zero! He was at a stage that reminded him of the beginning of his development. His concentration was shot, his head felt like packed in wool, and it was a strain to manipulate several small objects.

Angry, actually close to furious, he left the room and Charles, forcing his tired body to walk. He was exhausted, but his mind was burning.

This wasn't him! He wasn't this wreck! He couldn't be back to square one just because..

…because he had nearly died.

Erik trembled in suppressed emotions, breathing shallowly as his stomach muscles reminded him of the injury there.

His eyes fell on one of those strange works of art Charles' parents had collected and displayed outside the manor. Metal. Big and heavy and rather ugly, but he was no art critic.

Something inside of him snapped, challenging him, egging him on to move the globe-like structure. The metal sang to him, taunting and teasing.

He flung out his hands, belatedly realizing that his left shoulder was still not fit to move abruptly. Pain spike through him and he yelled, but he didn't stop. His power flowed through him and he willed the statue to rise.

It did. Trembling.

It was heavy.

It shouldn't be this heavy!

Sweat broke out on his forehead and his jaw worked. He bared his teeth as he channeled as he could through him. At the globe.

It moved.

Rose.

His body shook under the strain and sweat broke out all over him. He channeled his rage, his helplessness, his pain… and it hurt. His shoulder blazed, his stomach muscles cramped, and with a cry Erik pushed the globe; hard.

It cracked against the stone vase not far away, shattering it, then crushed a female statue.

Erik collapsed, feeling weak and suddenly completely drained. His shoulder screamed at him, his stomach was a knotted mess, and he was bathed in sweat. It felt like someone had plunged a knife into parts of his body.

He screwed his eyes shut, managing the pain as he had so often before, shoving it into neat little compartments. Pain was nothing; pain was what he had experienced before.

Instinct screamed even louder and he looked up.

Charles, hands stuffed into his pockets, stood not far away. Watching. Waiting. There was a curious expression in his eyes, like a teacher waiting for a student to figure it out.

Erik looked away, one arm curled over his stomach as he knelt next to the destruction he had wrought. The anger was dissipating; the pain remained in the back of his mind. Charles suddenly crouched in front of him. Erik met the knowing, understanding eyes.

Physical warmth. Charles was physical warmth that close. Erik wanted nothing more than to lean into it, let himself sink into the softness of an embrace, but his stubbornness, rivaled only by a certain telepath's, didn't let him.

"Sorry about…," he looked at the art he had destroyed, "that."

Charles shrugged, not the least bit perturbed by the loss. Erik remembered the detachment he had shown to certain things in the house before. As if it wasn't his possession, as if the destruction of such a valuable piece meant nothing at all.

"Ready?" he only asked, holding out a hand.

He took it and his lover helped him up. Pain shot through his body again and he cursed himself for leaning against the smaller man as he did.

Charles' arm wrapped carefully around his waist and he pressed a quick kiss against one temple.

::Anger and serenity:: he murmured.

Erik laughed breathlessly. Anger and serenity. Yeah.

They went back into the manor, Charles not letting go of him. He hated to be so dependent. He hated to need assistance. He hated it.

Charles pressed his lips against the dark head.

::Give it time. Healing needs time::

He glared at Charles and got a mild smile in return. It was pure Charles. Erik chuckled, feeling warmth spread through him. As much as his weakness angered him, the way the anchor line was back in place filled him with pride.

Yes, healing needed time and his powers demanded physical strength as well. He had to be patient.

Patience had never been his strong point.

"Oh, but you have been patient, my friend," Charles said, showing that the connection between them was pushing emotions and maybe thoughts across. "You were patient while hunting Shaw and his henchmen. You are patient with the children. And me. You have to learn to be patient with yourself and your body."

Erik laughed softly. "Probably."

They had arrived at their shared room without running into anyone. Erik let himself be guided to sit on the bed and Charles sat down next to him, giving him a sidelong glance.

"Got it out of your system?" he asked, voice holding that curious and mild quality.

"For now."

The pain was still there. His shoulder felt like a huge knot and the stomach scars burned. Charles watched him, not even offering to call Hank or even Ceci. Erik felt tired and worn, but his mind wasn't ready for his body to shut down. Charles smiled.

"Stop peeking."

"Hard not to."

The touch through the anchor line was warm and something he wouldn't want to miss. Erik let his head sink onto his lover's shoulder, sliding a hand over one thigh. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. He felt muscles relax and the pain became bearable.

Charles interlaced their fingers.

He had to be patient. Just patient.

x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x

A week after the incident that had destroyed two very expensive works of art Charles was in his study, battling administrative matters. Running a private school was a lot of work and he had already looked into the possibility of hiring help in that regard. Harriet had offered to take over secretarial duties and one of her copies had soon started to clear up his overcrowded desk and he now had a very easy filing system. Whatever he paid the woman, it would never be enough.

"You pay me more than I'd make anywhere, Charles," had been her reply when he had mentioned it. "And you give me the chance to work on my abilities. That's enough." She had given him a motherly pat on the arm and continued to clean up the office.

There was a knock and before he could say anything, the door was pushed open. Alex's spiky blond head appeared.

"Uh, hey," he said tentatively.

Charles gave him a welcoming smile. "What can I do for you, Alex?"

He tried not to read the younger man, but he caught a kind of faint worry.

"Uhm… I went downstairs to practice," the teenager said, "to see if I could hone my skills, you know? But Erik was there first, and no way was I gonna ask him to leave..."

Charles felt his worry multiply. "What did he do?"

"You better see for yourself." Alex shrugged.

x x x x x x x x x x x

Charles wasn't sure what to expect, he had felt surges of adrenaline-fuelled energy from Erik, but nothing dangerous and he knew how frustrated Erik was with the long period of enforced inactivity he had only just been released from.

Alex's expression had him worried as he jogged down the stairs, past the lower levels to the bunker in the basement. But whatever concerns he had had, he was surprised to see what could well have been every piece of stainless steel cutlery in the house sticking out from the walls of the bunker like a climbing wall for Spiderman, or maybe a huge piece of modern art.

In the middle of it all, Erik was sitting on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest. Charles slightly cast out with his power. There were emotions, but Erik wasn't in any kind of distress. He felt calm, calmer than he had in a long while and as Charles approached him, he realized that he was laughing.

::Erik?::

Crouching at his side, one hand at the top of his back, Charles looked into his lover's face and smiled.

"Dinnertime will be interesting," he commented, knowing for certain now that there hadn't been any need for concern.

"Sorry," Erik murmured, laughter subsiding. "I'll put them all back. I'll even straighten the ones that got bent."

Charles shrugged. "They're just knives and forks. Obviously they were needed more down here than they were in the kitchen."

"And spoons."

"Spoons?"

He looked upwards.

There was a cake fork twisted around a butter knife next to a dessert spoon, all embedded in the curved, concrete ceiling.

"Right. Did you have fun?"

Erik turned his head, looked at Charles and gave him an open smile. "Yes. I know it's not a satellite dish or a submarine..."

Charles resisted the urge to kiss him. "You don't have to prove yourself, Erik, you've already done that. Besides, you are still supposed to be taking it easy."

"I've been taking it easy. Now I need to train, I need get back to where I was."

"It wasn't your gift that was damaged. Your injuries, Erik, were horrific. You need to accept that your body's been hurt and let yourself heal before you push yourself too far."

Erik made a twirling motion with one finger, smiling like a little kid at the fun fair when the cutlery followed his command, moving in complicated patterns through the room. Charles felt a surge of pride and love. He felt Erik's elation, his happiness, the ease with which he finally accessed his powers. There was pain from aggravating the still sore wounds, but it was easily ignored.

Squeezing one shoulder he settled next to his lover, leaning against him as they were surrounded by countless knives, forks and spoons, forming a wall of shining metal around them. It was an almost heady feeling to experience Erik's powers this way. Like a sugar rush. Like a rollercoaster ride. Like being Erik.

And seeing the smile, the absolutely happy smile… It gave Charles more than anything in the world.

::I love you:: he thought. ::So much::

Erik looked at him. The brilliant smile, the light in the gray eyes, the love he felt reflected in his mind. It was something special, something to be treasured, and he would never give it up. Never.

The other mutant leaned closer, catching a fleeting kiss. "I won't ever give you up either, Charles Xavier."

Charles didn't care when the cutlery ended up in the wall again. He didn't care that he might have to order a whole new set after this. Right now he only cared about the welfare of this one special person who meant the world to him.

x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x

He stood in front of the full length mirror, long fingers tracing the clear cuts across his abdomen, along his ribs, one ending just under his breast bone. They were scarring, red and still angry looking. The stitches had come out last week and the tiny scabs had fallen off. There was still nerve damage, areas that felt numb. It would heal, the sensation would come back. He had had wounds like that before.

Scary, but true. Only too true. Born in fire and rage, he had spread the damage as well as taken it. Those scars were just a few more to his collection.

Erik met his eyes in the mirror. Gray, intense, in a sharp cut face. Coldly analyzing his physical condition he knew he would fail the test. He wasn't back into fighting condition and while his abilities hadn't suffered, his endurance had.

Turning his right hand palm up, he let two metal balls the size of marbles settled just a fraction of an inch over his skin. With a simple thought he let his powers rise, the balls starting an intricate dance. It was so easy, so fluent, so clean and sharp. Everything metal sang to him, on different frequencies, different intensities, and he had honed these skills to near-perfection.

Until he had met Charles Xavier he had believed he was alone, that he had reached his limits.

After that night, in the freezing water, almost drowning in his search for vengeance, things had changed.

Grown.

Developed.

Evolution.

He had become so much more. Charles had unlocked a door inside of him, given him access to his full potential. He had never felt so much… all at his finger tips… able to raise ten thousands of pounds of metal… raising whole sub…

Because of Charles.

And he had surrendered to the other man, giving him everything, his trust, his body, mind and soul; his love.

Erik let his eyes fall on the mangled shoulder. It was healing. The skin was red and scabbed and the scars would be ugly. At least he could finally leave off the sling. And he was gaining muscles.

::Hm, nice:: a voice purred in his head.

He looked over his shoulder and curled his mouth into a smirk. Charles was leaning against the frame of the door, hands in his pockets, running appreciative eyes over the half-naked man.

"Ever heard of knocking?"

"And miss this?" The teasing light in his eyes was mixed with lust.

It made Erik shiver.

So far they had held back, mostly due to the fact that there hadn't ever been an occasion when sex was pain-free for Erik. His stomach muscles would always protest and the limited mobility was a bitch. The occasional blow-job had taken the edge off, but even that involved more muscles than Erik had been happy with.

"Looking good," Charles murmured as he pushed away from the door.

Erik watched him come closer, took in the suit jacket pants, the white shirt, the blue woolen sweater. Professor. Teacher. Harmless.

He grinned.

Far from it.

The door locked like in an afterthought. Charles raised his eyebrows.

He slid those soft hands over Erik's skin, drawing a rush of need that seared through his mind. Soft hands, not like his own. No calluses. And clever.

He shivered as short nails scraped over his side, avoiding the scars.

"Charles…"

"I want you," the telepath murmured.

Gentle pressure on his mind. Maddening fingers running over his back. That damn sweater and shirt and the pants… in his way. Erik felt a surge of want-need-lust and he kissed him hard. Teeth clicked together and Charles groaned against him, his desire trickling through the connection, pushing Erik nearly over the edge. So little and the effect was so great.

"Charles," he groaned.

He so badly wanted this man. It was consuming him. Charles slid his hands flat over Erik's skin, exploring the ridges and bumps of the new scars. Catching those hands Erik pushed his partner toward the bed, single-minded, needing-wanting more. Their kisses became more frantic, like it was their first time, and in a way it felt like it.

They tripped against the edge of the bed and fell onto the mattress, the soft luxury cushioning him. Charles laughed as he straddled Erik, knees either side of his hips, and in his movements Erik read the care he knew he needed but didn't want to be reminded of right then.

He reached up with his right hand and grabbed the back of Charles' neck, tangling his hair, growling, "Don't treat me like a fragile doll, Charles," before dragging his head down into another violent, vital kiss.

Charles sucked on his tongue, bit his bottom lip gently and pulled a fraction to promise in a scraping voice, "Believe me, I won't. You're far from it." Erik strained up to take his mouth again, and Charles went back down with him, keeping his weight supported by his hands. Frustrated at the knowledge that Charles was holding back by necessity, Erik wanted to scream, to grab him, yank him down bodily, flush with one another from mouth to cock. But he couldn't. He could feel his damaged stomach muscles protesting already and knew if Charles thought he was in any kind of pain he'd put an end to this immediately, no matter how it was to do.

So he let his anger go for the time being, let Charles kiss soak into him, slowed things down. He could feel his lover seeking a similarly intimate contact through the anchor line and realized that he probably needed it just as much as he needed the physical contact.

Erik understood, he needed it too, and he opened his mind completely. Just the way he had at the start, on the beach. He felt Charles, as real in his head as his body was under his hands, warm and sexy.

::I'm all yours, Charles. Mind, body and soul::

He felt a surge of arousal, accompanied by a moment of horror. When he worked it out, he didn't try to hide his amusement.

"You can come."

He watched Charles' cheeks turn red. "I don't want to. Not yet."

::I'll just get you off twice::

::Stop it!::

In retaliation, Charles rebalanced his weight onto one hand and Erik felt his fingers against his ribs, his touch firm enough not to be ticklish, moving downwards until his fingernails scratched a light path down into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Erik slid his right hand over Charles' shoulder and grabbed his sweater. "Are you ever going to get naked?" he asked, wanting skin against skin, needing to touch, to feel.

Charles sat up, scooted back, pulled Erik's pants with him as he went. His cock sprang free into the warm air, and he watched Charles stare, watched him lick his lips.

"Strip, Xavier!"

As soon as he was naked, Charles crawled back over him, letting his erection knock against Erik's, sending sparks through his body which Charles let loose like fireworks in his head. He shivered, stomach tensing, the pain setting his teeth on edge.

::Erik...::

The warning in Charles tone, even in his mind, was clear. But he needed this more than he needed not to be in pain right now.

"Please, Charles," he wasn't above begging if he had to, but he knew Charles wouldn't allow that.

"You have to let me do all the work."

"All right, just... please get on with it!"

::You're such a romantic::

There was amusement underlying the words and it made Erik smile, made him relax, made him lift his hand and slide it into Charles wayward hair.

"Please."

Charles grinned, wriggled his hips and shifted backwards down the bed, lips snagging on Erik's nipples, running the tip of his tongue in a path downwards, skimming the edges of the deep indents of his vicious scars, making Erik's muscles twitch, causing tiny sparks of pain. It was impossible to keep Charles from feeling them, he didn't want that kind of separation ever again, but still he couldn't help his frustration at not being able to keep them to himself.

Charles, to his surprise, didn't pause, but he heard, ::If I hurt you, Ceci will kill me::

"If you don't finish what you've started, I'll kill you."

He laughed, suddenly looking his young age instead of the aloof professor thing he had going most of the time. He was a beautiful sight stark naked, tongue sweeping over the head of Erik's cock, twinkling blue eyes rising to meet Erik's own before Charles went down on him in one graceful movement, swallowing his erection until its head hit the back of his throat.

He jerked once, and the pain of the involuntary movement stopped his almost embarrassingly quick climax.

::Charles... Charles. God, Charles...::

They had done this recently, a couple of blow jobs to take the edge off while Erik recovered sufficiently to do more. But Charles was very, very good at it and while he didn't want to imagine his lover with other men, he hoped whoever Charles had had his first experiences with had been appreciative and gentle. As if they could be anything Charles didn't want them to be.

::I want...::

He didn't need to finish the thought.

::Just getting you ready, my friend::

The old endearment slipped through their connection; Erik sucked in his stomach and used the pain again to stop his climax.

::I'm warning you...::

::Then get on with it!::

With a roll of his eyes, Charles lifted his head, scrambled back up to kiss Erik thoroughly, letting him taste himself in Charles' mouth. Then he surged up, reached back for Erik's cock and positioned him.

::Charles! Lub-::

He didn't have time to finish the thought before it was blown apart by the tight heat of Charles body bearing down on his erection. He clawed his fingers in the sheets, reached for Charles, clawed them on his legs, scratching his fair skin with his fingernails. Charles was setting a slow, agonizing rhythm, rising until just the tip of Erik's cock was inside him before dropping down again, controlling every movement, never taking his eyes from Erik's as he looped the exquisite pressure, the sensation of being fucked by Erik around back into Erik's mind.

Pleasure ran through every nerve, briefly obliterating the pain of tense muscles, and as Charles dropped, Erik drove up to meet him, burying himself until his balls pressed against the sweat damp heat of his lover's ass. Charles yelled his name and Erik watched his cock, untouched, let loose a fountain of white cum, ribbons of it streaking the scars across his stomach. The sight alone was enough, but Charles' orgasm mirrored in his mind and the clench of his muscles sent Erik flying after him, spending himself deep inside Charles' body, clutching his legs, moaning ever more softly as he sank down into the bed, forcing his eyes open again, wanting to watch every nuance of expression in his lover's face as they came down from the high.
Making love to Charles had always been something incredible, something unique and precious.

::Any telepath...::

When their minds were as connected as their bodies, every thought belonged to them both.

::No. Not any telepath. Not anyone else, ever again. Just you::

He felt the spike of sated desire his words engendered; Charles was so easy, got hard from a simple kiss, or from words alone if they were the right ones. He slid his hands up to Charles' hips and pulled him down, wanting him on top but knowing he wouldn't be allowed that. Instead, Charles rolled into his side, one leg staying across Erik's thighs, one arm over his chest. Erik turned his head and kissed him.

"Do you mean that?" he whispered, and Erik was struck by the uncertainty in his voice.

After everything they'd been through, he hadn't thought it possible that Charles would still not realize how deep this went for him.

"I mean it, Charles. How can there ever be anyone else? How can anyone else ever touch the bar you've set? You have my heart, Charles. You have my mind. You have my soul."

Charles didn't have to respond with words, Erik could feel everything he felt through the anchor connecting them; it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever felt.

Eventually he fell asleep wrapped in it, with Charles snoring softly at his side.

tbc...