Chapter Text
Charles took a sip of his drink, his eyes not averting from the bar. They were fixed there basically since he and Raven entered the place.
One of Raven’s friend recommended it to her as mutant-owned, mutant-run and good for their nights out. Despite being in their thirties they still talked and met frequently, whether only the two of them or with their mutual friends. Charles was really glad because of that.
Now they were sitting on a black couch in the corner, the leather a bit cracked in a few places. The bar seemed nice, though if Charles could change something, he’d definitely lower the volume of music. Majority of customers was definitely mutant – just as the person Charles had his eyes on.
Until now they were chatting with each other, and he listened to Raven’s story about one of her coworkers, but now he poked her with his elbow.
“See that bartender?” he asked, watching as the guy made a shaker float and move in the air with just a wave of hand.
“The red one?” Raven guessed, looking at the man similar to devil. “Angel said he can teleport”
“No, the other one” he corrected her.
“The one that looks like he’s about to die?”
“Mhm” he murmured, prolonging the sound. Raven raised her eyebrow at him – something she often did when they were out and someone caught Charles’ eye.
“Seriously?” she said, as if she didn’t know him. “He’s like fifty”
Well, that was a great exaggeration.
“And?” he asked despite that, wanting to tease Raven a bit. She made a face that said something similar to I swear to god, you slut, but she let out a chuckle.
“I actually hate your taste in men, you know”
This time Charles was the one to chuckle. He watched his sister take a sip of alcohol.
“Do you want another drink, Raven?” he asked, his eyes coming back to the bar.
“I didn’t even finish this one”
“You’ll have time for that. I’m planning on spending a moment or two there”
Raven rolled her eyes.
“Go, seduce that guy or whatever” she muttered, her voice absolutely bored, making Charles laugh. He grabbed his cane and left his sister on the couch.
He quickly found himself sitting at a bar stool. He didn’t have to wait long for the bartender to notice him.
Contrary to what Raven said, he didn’t look like he’s about to die. More like collapse. But Charles didn’t pay much attention to the heavy eye bags. He focused on the broad shoulders, defined, square jaw, a bit curly, brown hair with some grey strands visible, on the kind of bored expression and the steel-colored eyes that just met his. He had no idea how Raven could not see how fine the man was.
Now, when he got a closer look, he realized that he might be around forty. Charles thought that he would appear younger without the short beard and clear signs of not getting a good night’s sleep.
“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked, his voice deep and a bit hoarse, but surprisingly polite. Charles’ mind immediately gave him a few ideas what he could make this voice say, what sounds he can get out of his mouth.
Charles also decided to calm the fuck down, because he’s not this drunk (maybe just tipsy), and not this much of a slut.
“One daiquiri, please” he said, not breaking eye contact with the guy, but keeping his eyes just a bit lidded, and a smile on his face. The barman’s face was neutral.
That’s when Charles realized that he can’t sense anything coming from him.
Intrigued, he reached out with his telepathy a bit, not entering his mind, but focusing on it. Charles involuntarily picked up other people’s emotions – it seemed like projecting was not-telepath’s natural state – with his power. He could, of course, mostly block out those sensations, but now he aimed to flirt with the guy, and it would be nice to know how he reacted to it for sure. People tended to lie in so many situations Charles found himself relying more on what they felt than what they said.
Here, though, he could only feel something, very weakly, if he concentrated purely on the guy’s mind. He was sure he’d have no problem in entering it, but he had no reason or intention of doing so. Did the stranger have a mutation allowing him to shield his mind this way or was he also a psychic?
He watched as the man made drinks for a moment before speaking again.
“Busy day?” he asked offhandedly, his eyes not averting from him for a second. The most mundane way of starting a talk ever, but one that worked. Since he couldn’t tell what the man feels, he decided to play it safe.
“Not busier than usual” he replied. He was not surprised that this stranger with eyes so blue they seemed radioactive tried to initiate a conversation. Many clients did, and Erik learned that indulging in what clients want could earn him a higher tip.
He used his power to make the shaker move. For him it always felt more effective than doing it manually, and sometimes caught client’s eye. Again, tips.
“Telekinesis?” the man asked, still not taking his eyes off him. Should Erik be flattered or concerned?
“Metallokinesis, actually” Erik corrected him. He raised his eyebrows.
“So, you can control metal?”
“And magnetic fields”
Charles nodded, already interested. Hot guy, fascinating power… why isn’t Charles already asking him for his number?
“All metals or just ferromagnetic ones?” he questioned before he could think it through. Then he mentally slapped himself; he was supposed to flirt, not talk science. God. Embarrassing.
The bartender looked at him like he couldn’t believe this was the thing he asked about. Erik decided to survey him again, this time focusing a bit more on his appearance. Ultra blue eyes, dark brown hair, freckles on his nose and cheeks, pretty soft features. He was actually very handsome, and Erik knew an attempt at flirting when he saw one. Even if that particular guy got sidetracked during it.
“All” he replied.
“So magnetic fields are unrelated to metal control?” Charles blurted out. Stupid fucking moron, you were meant to flirt with him, not bore him with mutation-talk!
“You’re a curious one, aren’t you” Erik said, raising his eyebrow.
So many absolutely terrible magnet-related pick-up lines swirled in Charles’ head he almost laughed out loud.
“Oh, I would love to see what you could do” he said, his tone indicating that he does not mean Erik’s power.
The bartender set the drink in front him. Charles noticed a bit chipped, dark green nail polish. He would say that’s a good sign regarding the man’s possible queerness.
“Thank you, gorgeous” Charles said, his smile as flirtatious as it could be.
“Erik” he introduced himself. He wondered if he’s going to regret it.
“Thank you, Erik” Charles repeated.
Erik thought that his name sounds surprisingly soft in his mouth, the “r” round and a little bit prolonged. The guy’s accent was definitely British.
“I’m Charles” the blue-eyed man said. “And I’m still curious about the… magnetic fields”
Erik decided that he could satisfy his curiosity.
★★★★★
The guy – Charles – kept accosting him, and Erik found himself responding, strangely enough. Maybe it was the appeal, handsome features and flirty remarks. Erik didn’t date, hasn’t been for years, but sometimes a quick hookup with particularly attractive clients – sober enough to know what they want and stubborn enough to actually get it – happened. Rarely, though. Less and less in the past years. He just didn’t have energy and time for that.
Charles was not strident, but his flirting – which got significantly better once he stopped getting distracted with Erik’s mutation – only got more intense over time. Erik wondered whether he’s so fascinated because he’s one of the more open humans or just a curious mutant.
“When does your shift end?” Charles asked, his hand turning a glass with liquor. This time it was whiskey with ice, and he was getting definitely more than just tipsy.
“Too late for you to stay here and still be conscious” he replied. Charles laughed, his other hand brushing through his hair. He licked his lips, looking at Erik with clear arousal.
“Well, good thing that tomorrow’s another day” he said, smiling. “I hope you aren’t too busy?”
Erik really didn’t know what was going on in his head when he said that no, he’s not busy (which was not entirely the truth), and gave Charles his number. Clearly not a lot – and Charles probably could say the same thing, because when Erik looked at the tip he left he almost wanted to go after him to say “hey, you added one too much 0”. Then he decided that a drunk man’s mistake was not his problem. On the contrary, for him it was beneficial, and he was not stupid altruistic enough to care.
★★★★★
The next morning Erik had already forgotten about the situation. He gulped down his bitter coffee without enthusiasm, leaning against the counter and looking at his children. They were sitting at the table and eating breakfast, though “eating” might be a bit of an exaggeration. Pietro was more playing with the food, moving it on the plate with his fork, his leg bouncing at the speed of about 30mph. Nina was staring out the window at two pigeons, and Erik was pretty sure that she was listening to their conversation. Wanda stopped with her fork in the air, the food had fallen from it back to her plate, and her eyes were fixed on a textbook laid out on the table.
“A reminder that you have ten minutes till the bus” he said. Wanda shot him a tired look, took two bites and came back to her book.
“A test today?” he asked, aiming to get something more than one glance out of her.
“Yes. And I know nothing and I’m going to fail” she whined, brushing her hair back. Pietro eyed her with an expression saying yeah, sure.
“I’m certain you’re not going to fail”
“Then I’m going to get a D. There’s no difference”
“There’s a huge difference” Pietro muttered, immediately moving at super speed to avoid getting elbowed by his sister. The chair he sat on wobbled. Nina turned her head to see whether he falls down or not, and went back to looking at the pigeons when it turned out that he won’t.
“One D is not the end of the world, sweetheart” Erik said, rinsing his cup before putting it in the sink. Pietro raised his eyebrow.
“What kind of double standards is this? When I get a D it is the end of the world”
“Because you get a little too much of them”
While Wanda excelled at school, Pietro didn’t do as good. Of course Erik would be happy if he managed better, but he knew he couldn’t put too much pressure on him. He had other reasons to be proud – Pietro did good in sports, even though at least once a semester someone insisted he should be banned from some kind of team or competition because of his mutation and the unfair advantage it gave him. Still, Erik expected better than a D. He thought that his son himself should have ambitions for something more.
Soon they all left the flat, the kids for school and Erik for work.
Erik didn’t spend the most time with his children, certainly less than he’d like. Having two jobs didn’t really help with that.
He didn’t even know how did he, an electrician, ended up working as a bartender. Figuratively, that is, because obviously he did remember handing in his CV and getting that job. He was looking for a job, then he found a job, and heavens know he’s miserable now, or however that song went. A bit too much like his life, he feared. Especially the part about being miserable.
Erik managed. Alright? He did. He might be sleep deprived, but as long as he was able to make ends meet it was fine. He didn’t even work full-time at the bar, because he probably wouldn’t survive as long while getting like three hours of sleep a day. It was not ideal, but he managed – perhaps at the cost of his health, though it didn’t seem especially high to him. Rent for a three-bedroom apartment wasn’t the cheapest, there was school, ADHD medication for Pietro, constant new clothes for his growing kids, every bigger and smaller expense he could cover only if he kept both of the jobs. It was fine.
Everything Erik did, he did for his kids. So they don’t have to worry about anything other than schoolwork and their social life, the typical problems children have. So they can develop their passions, attend any extracurricular and club they want, so they can go on school trips now and to a good college in the future. So that he never has to tell them “I’m sorry, I can’t afford that” like his parents had to when he was a child. Everything he did, he did for them. Even if it was hard to be a present father while simultaneously having two jobs, he managed; and he will manage for the next years just like he’s done it until now.
★★★★★
Erik might have forgotten about the conversation with Charles, but it seemed that Charles didn’t. In the afternoon, when he was making dinner – tofu with vegetables and sweet and sour sauce (he learned to make a lot of vegetarian dishes, because since Nina’s power manifested she refused to eat meat under any circumstances, which Erik understood) – he got a text from a number saved as “Charles X”.
Charles X: Hi, Erik. Charles here, from the bar. I hope we can still meet up?
Erik frowned, stirring in the pan. Huh. That guy really decided to text him. Maybe he was less drunk than Erik had thought yesterday.
Erik: I didn’t think you’ll remember about that.
Charles X: How could I forget about such a stunning man?
Erik rolled his eyes. He had more important things to do than fucking with a random guy from the bar, but it looked like he was the only one with this mindset.
Charles X: The next weekend works for you? Saturday evening, perhaps?
Woah, he really was dedicated. Or stubborn. Or a desperate slut. There were many options for Erik to consider.
The most important choice right now was: does he agree or not? Theoretically there was nothing stopping him from that. Charles was handsome, nice and one hookup never caused him any problems. Maybe he could spend his free evening like that. On the other hand, he couldn’t help but feel a little weird that someone like that took interest in him. Charles was definitely younger than him, absurdly pretty, dressed too sharp for the kind of bar Erik worked in. Meanwhile Erik was perfectly aware that he didn’t look the best – he stopped caring much about his appearance long time ago. Well, he’s not going to judge anyone’s preferences, but… yeah, actually, he was judging. Heavily.
Erik: Sure.
Was this a bad decision? Possibly. He will find out soon.
He began to think that it might have been a be bad choice when he got another text in the evening. A couple of them, actually. Charles told him the hour and place, and that was fine, but the next one made him feel confused.
Charles X: Wear something fancy
Erik furrowed his eyebrows, typing “how fancy?”
Charles X: More than me at the bar
Last time they met Charles was wearing a shirt, tailored suit pants and a vest. A vest.
Erik: So, a suit?
Charles X: It would be good
Erik scoffed to himself quietly. A suit. For a hookup. Maybe Charles had a thing for formal attire, because surely he couldn’t think that this was going to be a date.
★★★★★
Turns out, Charles did think it was going to be a date.
Or at least it looked like he thought so. The address he sent Erik – which he foolishly didn’t google – turned out to be a restaurant. One that Erik would never even consider entering on his own.
Fuck.
He thanked himself for deciding to take a wallet. What kind of ridiculous situation had he gotten himself into? He shouldn’t have agreed to that meeting. He should’ve known to stay home when Pietro asked him where is he going all dressed up (Erik replied that he has a meeting; Pietro said “you mean a date?”, and Erik felt a strong urge to stick his tongue out at him, but he was a grown man and chose to act like one).
He begged some higher force to send a meteorite and annihilate the place, but nothing came to save him. Of fucking course.
He hesitantly entered the place, cursing it, cursing Charles and cursing himself.
Erik ended up sitting at a two-person table, ordering one of the cheapest options in the menu and trying to keep his tone offhanded while responding to Charles’ chatter. Telling him that this is not a date had proven to be a more difficult task than Erik thought it to be, because Charles was, well, talkative – and Erik, hilariously and strangely enough, found himself not annoyed by it.
“Hello, Erik. Got some more sleep this time?” were the first words Charles said to him. Erik decided that correcting him was not worth it. He didn’t got more sleep, he just dig up a concealer when Charles texted him about dressing fancy. The last time he used it was probably one of the parent-teacher conferences he actually attended. He needed to be presentable there – and now. The nail polish was also gone. Perhaps it will be there again tomorrow; if not, maybe in a week. When Wanda was little she’d paint his and Magda’s nails during the weekends. Then Nina joined them, and a few years later Wanda seemingly quit their tradition. Erik told himself that he didn’t mind – she was fourteen, she had other things to do.
Erik listened to Charles talk for a moment, though his words were a bit hard to focus on when he had things to think through.
Charles was… nice. Very. It felt shallow to describe him like that, but it was the easiest way – and the first one that came to Erik’s mind when he started wondering about it for some bizarre reason. He felt the urge to ask Charles why he’s acting like that. Even if he had no idea how to define “like that”, and why it was bothering him. Or whether it was bothering him at all. He didn’t know if it does, it just seemed strange.
He learned that Charles is also a mutant, a telepath at that. That information made him visualize a steel box he locked his thoughts in. It was primitive, but metal was something he had control over – and it made him feel like he also has control over who can see his thoughts. He had nothing against Charles’ mutation per se, just a lot of against someone who was basically a stranger seeing what was inside his mind.
As it turned out, his concern was unnecessary.
“You might not know” Charles said, his blue gaze moving from his plate to Erik “but most people tend to radiate their emotions. I can feel them without entering their minds or any conscious effort. But I can’t feel anything coming from you. It’s not anything bad, of course, I was just wondering why. Do you think you could have a secondary mutation? One allowing you to block out telepaths?”
“Oh, no” Erik replied, chuckling. Was this why Charles decided to talk to him in the first place? Curiosity about why can’t he read him? That would explain everything: the fact that he actually reached out, invitation to a restaurant, being so nice. “My daughter has some psychic abilities. I learned how to not project long time ago”
Daughter? Charles thought, but he shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, he was talking with Erik barely second time in his life.
“Well, that would explain it. My sister also has strong mental shields because of me” he said, and quickly changed the subject. Erik was glad because of that – his mind was not his favorite topic, and he and Charles had more interesting things to talk about. More neutral ones. Charles’ soft accent was much more pleasant to listen to than his thoughts.
★★★★★
“So” Charles said, his hand taking Erik’s jacket lapel and tugging at it slightly. They’ve just exited the restaurant, and Erik was fighting the urge to go away again. “My place? It’s a short walk from here”
Of course. Erik wouldn’t take him to his own flat. Not because he was ashamed or anything. Why on earth would he be ashamed of his small, cluttered flat in a not-the-best neighborhood in front of a man whose clothes alone were probably worth more than both of Erik’s paychecks – not counting the wristwatch, which looked like it was thrice as expensive – and fucking paid for him without a blink. Despite Erik’s protest, Charles insisted that he will pay since he was the one to invite Erik there.
Why would he ever be ashamed.
“No Porsche to flex?” he asked sarcastically to hide his embarrassment.
“I don’t want to cause a danger to the public” Charles replied, equally sarcastically. At least he didn’t get offended.
“Why would you?”
“I passed the test for my driver’s license at seventh try. I don’t think it would be economic to buy a Porsche with my questionable skills”
Erik chuckled, and Charles let go of his jacket. Soon they were walking side by side, still talking, and Erik wondered why is it so easy to chat with him about everything and nothing when normally he avoided interacting with people with all the (very little) energy he had.
Erik almost turned on his heel and left when he saw where Charles lived. Fucking posh… slut. Posh slut that didn’t need long to strip them both naked and get Erik under him on his bed. King-sized, even though Charles lived alone.
When Erik’s back hit the mattress, his head between Charles’ hands, he heard something bounce off it, and then a meow.
“Sorry” Charles said, smiling and getting off him. He stood up and opened the door. “Out, Nettie. I’m busy”
Erik chuckled, looking at a ragdoll cat tilt its head, eye him and trot out of the room.
“You let your cat on the bed?”
“I’d give her my credit card if she asked”
Erik laughed, but soon his mouth got occupied with something else.
Erik quickly discovered that Charles was unable to shut up even in bed. He kept running his mouth as he fucked Erik into oblivion, constantly saying how tight Erik is, how good he feels, how gorgeous he is. It made Erik go just a little bit insane.
Another thing that made him go insane was that at one point his leg moved on its own without his control, wrapping around Charles and pressing him closer. His arousal suddenly doubled, he felt as if he was both fucking and being fucked at the same time, and for a moment he was completely breathless.
“Oh god” he gasped, barely controlling his mouth enough to form words. “Fuck, Charles- ”
The feeling suddenly disappeared, and Erik couldn’t stop himself from whining with disappointment.
“Sorry. Telepathy. Hard to control” Charles muttered breathlessly.
“Do it again” Erik said without thinking about it for even a second. His mind fixated completely on the fact that Charles had just controlled him, used his body like a puppet. He had no power over it whatsoever. Oh god.
“What?”
“Just fucking do it” he moaned, his other leg wrapping around Charles’ body too. He needed Charles deeper inside him, both in his body and his mind.
Charles hesitantly entered his head, Erik’s sudden fascination by his power clear for him to see. That fascination revolved especially about what Charles could do with him. Charles was genuinely surprised by that – usually people were afraid of being controlled.
He quickly learned that it was not the case with Erik.
At first he was trying to be careful, but Erik didn’t give him any signs that he doesn’t want him in his head, so he quickly stopped holding back. It was truly amazing to use his powers so freely without hearing any opposition. And, if he’s going to be honest, it turned him on even more.
Erik didn’t protest as he readjusted his grip around him, as he projected what he feels or wants to do. If anything, he was eager to comply.
Erik was absolutely, utterly amazed. Charles was the one in charge of him. Charles was the one who did things with his body. It was not Erik’s responsibility anymore. Nothing that could possibly go wrong would be blamed on him if he wasn’t really in control. The ever-present option where he fucks things up suddenly disappeared. It was no longer his responsibility, no longer his body, no longer his fault. It was everything he could dream of.
Charles broke their telepathic connection as soon as they were finished.
They lied in Charles’ sheets (this fucking posh slut had silk sheets) for a moment, but Erik couldn’t let himself fall asleep and stay here, even if he had to (reluctantly) admit that it was comfortable. He had things he needed to do tomorrow. Things that would be his own actions again, and that would be completely his fault if they went wrong.
He stood up, still a little shaky. He found his clothes and began dressing up.
“Wait a moment, I’ll call a cab for you” Charles stated, not even suggested, getting up to look for his phone in his pockets.
Erik turned to him with a strange expression. Then he got a little distracted by the still naked man standing sideways to him.
“Don’t bother” he finally muttered. Such a ridiculous man, Charles was.
“Oh please, Erik. You’re not going to walk around the city at night” Charles said, not looking up from the phone screen.
“I can call a taxi for myself” he said, to which Charles just waved his hand dismissively.
“Don’t bother” Charles repeated after him, amusement clear in his voice (and in the smirk on his face). Such a ridiculous man. Calling a cab for the guy he hooked up with once. Paying in advance despite Erik’s protest, which was even worse. Did he not have better things to do with his money?
Ridiculous.
★★★★★
Charles X: It was wonderful. I think we should repeat that someday.
Erik stared at his phone in confusion for a moment. He rubbed his face with his hand, sighing. It was too early for that.
He put his phone on the table and took a sip of his coffee, but he kept staring at the device, as if it could write a reply on its own.
Then he decided to make another possibly-bad choice.
Erik: Sure, why not.
He didn’t have to wait long for an answer.
Charles X: The next Saturday works for you?
Erik turned the phone off and looked around the room, as if he could find an answer there.
He needed to think it through.