Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Charles’ eyes burned. He had been staring at the screen for hours. Another pdf file to download, another essay to read. Moira had told him to print them out, but why waste trees on an exam he knew he would barely pass?
There was no chance that he’d get anything better than a D. Hank had just rolled his eyes when he told him.

“You’re going to fail this like you failed the last exams. With a top score and ahead of all of your colleagues.”

Sometimes Hank was mean. He clearly didn’t understand that this was different from all those other classes. This was truly difficult. He needed more time, more sleep, a better place to study… Usually the low buzz of voices and thoughts at the library helped Charles to concentrate.
They were a wonderful background noise he lacked in the empty town-house his parents had given him as a residence.

But today not even this could calm him down. For what felt like the 700th time he let his gaze trail over the other desks in his study area.

A pair of grey-green-blue eyes were looking straight back at him.

His mind quickly split the facial features of the boy they belonged to into their parts and the responsible genes. Great, he had reached the stage where he couldn’t even look at an attractive face and appreciate its beauty as a whole. On the screen the pdf opened.

Right.

25 minutes later he went to get a water. No progress in sight. His head got fuller and fuller yet he couldn’t see any logic in the things he crammed in. Not yet. He needed more. The man with the problematical eyes was watching him on his way back. Charles stretched his powers a little and they met interest and lookedsoprettyatthefair redlips Gay?
Oh God, so not what Charles needed right now.

The essay finally had revealed itself to him. But this covered only a fragment of the things he had to know. There was so much more. So much more to know and his time was running out.
THAT guy now openly stared and Charles remembered where he had seen him before. At the society fair. He had skulked around Charles’ stall for a while before he’d left without signing up. Charles had been a little disappointed back then. The guy apparently too, because his thoughts were centred around what’shisname? and a wave of blurred, undefined sexual longings.

Urgh. Not now.
Charles’ brain needed all the blood it could get. He shot the guy an angry look and resolutely hit the download button for the next file.

------

“Hey.”

Charles nearly dropped the peanuts he had just gotten from the vending machine.
Creepy staring guy apparently was also creepy stalker guy.

“Uhm, I was wondering, you’re the guy from the sci-fi society, right. I’m Erik. Would you, since we’re both taking a break, would you get some coffee with me?”

Charles stared back at him with what he hoped was a stern and slightly annoyed look that indicated his disinterest. In reality he more seemed like a disgruntled owlet that blurted out:

“Do I look like I need more coffee? I mean seriously, why can’t guys react when I’m at a bar, TRYING to flirt? Now, when I don’t have time for this… I’m sorry. No, I won’t have coffee with you. Instead I will be going back and try to save my grade. Thank you.”

Charles stomped away but after about four paces the I’VEFAILED!!! Knewhewasbusy whydoIalwaysfuckuplikethis hit him. Along some images of Erik living the rest of his life as a hermit on a cliff.

Dear God! Someone had a dramatic streak.

Charles turned around half-amused half-guilty.

“This really is not about you. I just don’t have time now. But on Friday I will drown the demise of my academic career at The Gardener. So feel free to ask me again then, okay?”

That was all he could do for now. Apparently it was enough since Erik smiled and said:

“Okay.”

What really assured Charles (and drove colour to his cheeks) though was the pleased and hopeful thought of blowjobtoconsole icanworkcharms he’sgonnaloveit.

Chapter Text

“Listen closely Alex. Do you hear that? Can you now tell me what kind of a tree this is?”

The little badger with the yellowish fur tilted his head to the right and listened attentively. There was only the squeaking of the rats in the sand. Charles had promised he would show them how to hunt after learning things about stupid, boring trees.
The wind blew and suddenly a piping sound filled the air. The cub’s eyes lit up.

“It’s a Whistling Thorn!”

“Very good! Now Hank, can you remember which genus this tree belongs to from our last trip to the research station?”

“It’s uhm, a, hm, uhm, I think it’s an Acacia. Because of the thorns and the leaves look like one too.”

“Excellent!” Charles beamed proudly.

“Sean, can you… Sean? Children, where is your brother? Erik? Erik, Sean is gone!”

Charles’ mate, who was gnawing on the remains of an antelope he had taken off a lion earlier, looked up alerted.

“There he is!” Raven called pointing at her little brother who waddled on the side of the road towards two zebras.

“Not again! Why is he so fascinated by them?”

“They’re black and white too. To Sean everything that is black and white is a honey badger. Even if they have hooves, and long legs, and ugly horse faces.”

“Alex, be polite! Darling, could you please fetch him back before they-“ but Erik was sprinting already.

A loud, feral HRRROOOOOFFF, small clouds of sand and two terrified zebras later Erik returned with the cheeping, smallest cub in his jaw.

“He was ready to roll over. Could you please teach your cub that honey badgers are fearsome and never roll over?”

“My cub?”

“Yeah, you told me that according to humans, honey badgers only have one or two cubs. I have just chosen mine.”

With that he affectionately nudged Raven and Alex before he continued to scrape the last bits of flesh from the antelope’s bones.
Charles just huffed. It was time to teach the children. Someone else would learn his lesson about not playing favourites when he would dig his own burrow tonight.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t as if Erik didn’t like the sight of Charles shovelling snow when coming home. Cheeks reddened, snow crystals in his dark locks, bright eyes ablaze and full of determination... he was rather gorgeous. But this was ridiculous.

“Charles, what are you doing? That’s not even five centimetres. It will be gone tomorrow.”

“One can never be too careful, love. What if we get snowed in?”

Erik just snorted.

“Yeah right, it could go up to ten centimetres, what would we do then? Oh, I know, call in the Royal Army like you people did last year. England is great, but that was just silly.”

“Well, technically the whole country was down, so it felt at least a little like we were snowed in…”

“Come on,” Erik took the shovel from Charles’ hand and kissed his husband on the corner of his mouth, “back at home we still had football practice when it was twice as bad. And Azazel probably considers this beach weather. In fact he’s called me in the office today and asked if we would like to come over tonight. Janos isn’t back from Milan yet, I guess he’s bored.”

“But we’re snowed in, we can’t go out tonight. We should just stay inside, where it’s and warm and safe. Away from this blizzard, don’t you think?”

Erik frowned.

“What are you talking about?”

Charles gestured at the three snowflakes in the air, “The ice storm we’re in? No?”

Erik just looked more confused and slightly worried.
Charles let out an exasperated sigh, grabbed his husband at the waist and pulled him in for a short, full kiss on the lips.

“I’m saying that we should get off our porch since I left work early today to make baked apples with marzipan and there’s a bottle of my father’s Pinot Noir in the decanter. The fire in the study is lit and there’s a big, plush carpet in front of it, on which I intend to shag you in the course of the evening. Now, could you at least indulge me a little in my fantasy?”

Erik blinked. Then he swallowed. Then he said:

“I’ll call Azazel… oh no, there is no reception. We’re doomed. Let’s go.”

Charles grinned and followed his suddenly very hasty husband into their house.

Chapter Text

When Charles sleeps he holds his lower lip with his teeth.

It’s not like he bites it, that’s something he does when he’s awake, giving Erik lovely ideas at the worst times. No, he just tucks it in and puts even more emphasis on his exquisitely drawn upper lip.
It also makes him look a bit like a rodent. A very cute rodent.

Whenever Erik wakes and finds him like this, he’s amazed by how innocent and sweet such incredible power can appear. Sometimes he trails his finger over Charles’ stubble, over his chin and very lightly over his closed eyes.

The perfect illusion of vulnerability.

And it’s Erik’s duty to protect him, even if it’s only in the peaceful hours of the night. He has learned to savour those moments like little gems, gems that no one can ever take away from him. If he’s daring, he carefully ghosts a kiss on the upper lip. Charles never stirs from his sleep of the just but Erik knows that he feels it.

——-

When Erik sleeps he tilts his chin to his chest. Sometimes Charles tugs on his lower lip so Erik drools all over the pillow. He thinks it’s hilarious.

Chapter Text

Erik looked at the banana warily.

Not too long ago this had been considered a delicacy back home, what he was about to do to this fruit almost felt heretical. But Angel had said that this was the best way to practice keeping ones teeth out of the way and he trusted her, she knew about sex and …. sex stuff.

He peeled the banana with a sigh and thought of Charles' pained expression the last time Erik had tried to suck him off. It was all the other man’s fault; he had told him that he wasn’t good at it. If Charles had just gone ahead and fucked him like Erik had asked for, this would not have happened. Trying out new things was completely overrated. Erik inspected the creamy white shaft of the fruit. It was not quite as thick as Charles’ dick but about the same length. He huffed annoyed by his own reluctance and carefully licked the whole thing from bottom to top.

He was just glad that everyone was still asleep and that he had the large kitchen of the mansion to himself. So far Erik still had the respect of the children; he intended to keep it, so none of them needed to see him fellating inanimate objects at the kitchen table, wrapped in Charles’ fluffy bathrobe. The fruit tasted mealy and bland, nothing like Charles’ cock (thank G-d), and his tongue tingled as he licked it a few times more.
He sighed and tried to remember that this was for the greater Good of repaying Charles the mind-blowing orgasms he had given him and, more importantly, the restoration of Erik’s confidence in his own sexual prowess.

Puckering his lips over the tip wasn’t too difficult and Erik thought he mastered the soft nips with just his lips and the minute, playful licks reasonably well. Letting it slide in his mouth however… Where was his tongue supposed to go, how did Charles always manage to cover his teeth and how deep… Oh, fuck! His incisors had left two big lines on the soft flesh of the fruit.

Frustrated he chomped the banana down and peeled the next one. At least his potassium intake was covered for this week. Four bananas later, Erik felt like he started to get a hang of it. There were still little marks on it but he knew from personal experience that this felt rather good. He was able to slide it past his teeth in quick successions, could work the sweet shaft of the fruit with his tongue simultaneously and the short, twisting sucks on the upper part were fluid too. It took all his concentration when he tried out how far he could go without triggering his gag reflex, so he didn’t notice when

“Erik?”

He bit down. The banana was jammed in his throat. He almost choked, gagged and then coughed violently, spraying little chunks of fruit all over the table.

“Erik, are you alright, what are you doing here at 5am…”

Sean, who had been headed for the freezer, ran to him and hit him on the back. Erik wheezed and grabbed his wrist to keep the red-headed, obviously suicidal fool from slapping his shoulders. That was when Sean’s look fell on the other banana peels and Erik could see the gears rattling into place. Sean blanched.

“Oh.”

“You will not speak of this” Erik croaked.

“No, no I won’t. Ever. What you and the professor are into is completely and only your business. Excuse me; I think I have to throw myself off a satellite dish.”

Erik growled his assent to that notion and cleaned off the banana slobber from his chin with the back of his hand.

“Go!”

“Yessir!”

Sean was half-way through the door and Erik just about to die of shame in private, when the boy turned around.

“You know, it’s not really about how deep you can get it, if you use your hand and circle the tip lightly, the prof will enjoy it just as mu-“

“OUT!”

Chapter Text

Logan’s physical wounds have healed but his pride still hurts. Defeated and on his knees before this runt of a man who dares to call himself a king.

The little lordling on the throne has the audacity to smile at him, no, laugh at him, obscenely red lips arching over white teeth. But then, in his position he has every right to smile, over the past 6 months half the country fell into his silk-clad lap. And now Logan’s army is gone too…

Lensherr, the traitor, lines Logan and his comrades up for inspection while unnaturally blue eyes tax them one after the other. His whole life Logan hasn’t cared a bit about honour but now he would give everything to die standing instead of this kind of degradation.

Oh, who’s saying anything about dying? You’re not going to die, what would be the purpose in that?

Logan stares up at the youthful face in shock. He’s got the same powers as the Ice Queen.

I am stronger actually. Or do you think I would have stood a chance against her if not?

No wonder everyone fell in line for the Xavier heir. He controls and manipulates them. That explains why Lensherr…

I would never harm nor touch my dear general in any way he doesn’t agree with. Everyone who follows me came willingly. And you will too, you’ll see. I am rather good at persuasion, in more than one way.

The lordling reclines on his high seat, one foot up on the throne. Legs spread like this, his clothes suddenly hug his pleasant, boyish forms tightly and even in a situation like his current one, Logan can feel the jolt of lust it sends through him. He has been in the field too long, hasn't seen anyone this beautiful and willing in a long while... Xavier notices his captive's noticing and a dirty little smile plays around his red red lips.
He stretches out his right arm languidly and points at Logan to his feet. With the same warm, mellow voice as in Logan’s head he says out loud:

“Tonight… you.”

So it's decided. Logan feels the pull of Lensherr’s powers in his bones, righting him up to walk, and the darkly amused glint lightening up the grey eyes of whipcord-thin general sends shivers down his spine. Logan isn't an easily scared man but suddenly he fears what is about to come.

Chapter Text

“You have lovely skin”, he said, “I can’t wait to wear it” he said…

Bah!!

No one would ever touch Charles as long as Erik was around. Even someone as thick as Shaw had realised this when the giant snake squeezed the last bit of life out of his lungs.

Now that he had finally devoured this deceitful man, Erik hooked his jaw back in and slid to the little pond in the back garden. Well, hauled himself with difficulty, the human in his stomach wasn’t small.

Charles - after he had caught himself from the shock of being creepily petted and threatened with skinning - had watched Erik’s feast disapprovingly and slithered back into his terrarium hissing something about how snakes shouldn’t eat humans. He would come around, Erik was sure of it as he blissfully sank into the muddy water.

It turned out he was right, no surprise given the reaction his body had had to the enormous meal. Not even two hours later he heard Charles voice from the grass.

“Darling?”

“Yesssssssssss?”

Charles tongue was nervously but eagerly lapping up the pheromones Erik exuded.

“You smell like you’re… are you… do you mind if I join in?”

“No, not at all” Erik answered with a smug smile on his reptile face.

Charles glided into the water next to him and then slowly wrapped his significantly shorter body around Erik’s back half. It wasn’t long ‘til Erik felt Charles’ mating spur massaging his scales, and oh, OH, it always found just the right places.

“Not so angry anymore that I finally stopped this mad man, are we?” Erik sighed so pleased with himself.

It expectedly took Charles a while to answer given his current pursuit. But then it came, quite matter-of-factly, if a little out of breath: “He will be a good source of energy for the young. But let’s try for only four or five this time. The 72 were a little much.”

“As you wisssssh”, Erik hummed and sank deeper into the water, shivering under the continuous rubs of the little spur.

Chapter Text

"I killed Mufasa" Erik whispered and watched the big blue eyes go wide.

Some ear-shattering wailing and a very angry Edie Lensherr later, Erik sat on his burning buttcheeks, grumblingly observing his mother who was making papercuts with the spoiled Heulsuse in her care.

-------------------------------------------------

"This isn’t funny, every time I poop I think of you… oh stop it!" The annoyed fold on Erik’s forehead grew deeper, but Charles kept snorting and wheezing.

"I’m so sorry, love, but the way you said it… ahahaha, ok, I promise. The next time you beg me to fuck you harder I will ignore it until I’m absolutely sure you won’t feel it the next day."

Charles stood up, kissed the pouting lips (he was A-DOR-A-BLE) and got his slightly abashed boyfriend a softer pillow to sit on.

--------------------------------------------------

Erik lifted the blanket carefully before he slowly slid behind the lump on his marital bed. He really didn’t want to wake Charles, but with his work hours he’d barely seen his husband this week and so he couldn’t resist burrowing his nose deep in the brown mop in front of him.

However, instead of Charles’ silky hair his face touched something sticky and instead of Charles’ earthy smell something saccharine and artificial filled his nostrils. He huffed and extended the tip of his tongue to taste whatever it was, when he felt Charles’ presence spreading in his mind.

"Your hair tastes like strawberries."

"Lorna. It’s her chewing gum. I tried to get it out but I kept falling asleep in the bathroom. Is the project done yet?"

"Tony’s presenting it the day after tomorrow."

"Good, because I will take a holiday then. A nice long holiday without any babies, toddlers or six-year-olds."

Erik nuzzled Charles’ neck smiled into it.

"Can I come too?"

"First we’ll check if the children still remember their other father…"

"… I’m so sorry Charles, it’s just around this time of the year…"

"… and then we’ll see what auntie Raven is up to, and if her and Irene want to play house for a while."

With that Charles grabbed Erik's arm, pulled it around himself and pushed his back into Erik’s big spoon. As much as Erik welcomed the warm weight on his groin, he could feel Charles exhaustion spilling over through their telepathic bond and combined with his own tiredness it took less than 30 seconds for them to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

Stupid Xavier and his stupid expensive car with the stupid expensive leather seats. Served him right that Erik dripped on them; if there was any justice in this world they’d be ruined, just like Erik’s life was.

“To the left?”

“Yeah. Then straight ahead ‘til we get to the Walmart. You can let me out there.”

“Absolutely not. It’s raining cats and dogs, I said I’ll drive you home. Can’t have you walk in this weather.”

Why did he care now?

“It’s your sister’s friends who put me here, if you’d said anything…”

“I said I’m sorry for what Raven did. I’ll buy you a new bike, does that sound alright?”

No it didn’t. Of course people like Xavier thought that one could fix everything with money. With their mansions and cars and butlers. What did he know about scholarships and depending on the good-will of a sick man?
Or working hard during the school year to save up for bike parts and assembling them lovingly on their own? If the brat wanted something he went to daddy, fluttered his stupid long eye-lashes and got a new racing horse, probably. Erik had nothing but contempt for his posh schoolmates, so he didn’t answer but stared out of the window into the grey wall of rain.

“Again, she’s a bit impulsive lately and she likes Richard a lot…”

“He’s a prick and he started it!”

“Yes, he is, but trying to drown someone in his soup because he made fun of your shoes? Don’t you think that this was a bit much?”

Erik looked down on his faked Converse. It wasn’t just about the shoes. It was about the months of abuse and sniggers directed at him after he’d accidently shoved JF on the race track. Until then he’d been able to fly under the radar, Bolivar liked to call him Freak from time to time but that had been it.

Now everyone called him a freak. Or worse. Xavier too behind his back, he was sure of it, so why he spilled everything to the boy with the stupid floppy hair in this ridiculous car he usually drove around Moira in, was beyond Erik. It just poured out. Nature added dramatics as a lightning bolt shot through the dark sky and thunder rumbled so loud he could feel the hull of the car vibrating as he finished. He didn’t say anything for a while after and Xavier had the grace not to either.

“To the left again, my house is at the end of the street.”

It wasn’t desolate per se, but the whole area had seen better times and the years of neglect showed in the loose shingles and the door’s holey fly screen. Xavier stopped the car and only seemed to take in their surroundings now.

“I’m so sorry. I truly am.”

For the first time today he believed him. Xavier’s eyes were even bigger and bluer than usually, and were those tears in them? Erik couldn’t really tell as his eyes had been misty the last five minutes.

“It’s okay. Thank you for driving me. I appreciate it.”

With that he opened the door and slipped out.

“Erik…”

“See you tomorrow.”

He didn’t turn around until he was inside and saw the car slowly rolling away. Erik slid past his mother’s room, took off his wet hoodie and went straight to the bookshelf in his room.

There, in the last yearbook, was the photo of the soccer team no one ever must find. Charles laughing bright in the centre row, Erik with his eyes closed diagonally behind him holding a cooler. The thick biro lines of the heart he’d drawn around them erased the faces of Summers and Cassidy.

Erik had been a fool for thinking that his life was ruined before.

Chapter Text

“Awww, bounce them tits! Come on! That’s a good girl, this way; daddy’s got a nice treat for you!”

Erik watched in unbelieving disgust as his seatmate grabbed the crotch of his filthy jeans while the runner passed their car.

“Honestly, I’ve seen whores on the job wear more than these bitches. Hoity-toity and stuck-up, ‘don’t touch me’, all day long, but who are they working out for I ask you? Men! They can pretend to be dykes all they like, in the end they all want a fat cock in their cunts.”

The greasy-haired douchebag next to Erik sprawled back in his seat and took another swill from the flask he’d gotten out after five minutes in the car.
So far they’d waited for 2 hours and the space between the other man’s feet had filled with beer cans, numerous cigarette stubs burning holes in the rental car’s carpet, leftovers of a shwarma that stank like the meat had been off and now a little heap of toffee foils.

If Erik wasn’t such a professional he would have kicked him out an hour and 55 minutes ago. But the firm had insisted that he worked with a partner this time. Sebastian Shaw was too dangerous and Erik too inexperienced to do it alone, they’d said. A hatchet man. Erik scoffed at the idea. He worked from a distance, yes, but he could hold his own when things got dirty, he'd proven he could in Argentinia, this was ridiculous.
Besides, he couldn’t really see this repulsing creep handle any kind of weaponry, drunk as he was, so he was even more coiled than he usually was before a hit. If this guy fucked up, it would all rest upon him to fix it.

“Sorry I’m talking about cunts with you. You’re not into them, right? Cocks and arses for youuu.”

“Hey nothing wrong with that,” he added, hands and dirty nails raised defensively as Erik glared at him, brimming with angry tension.

“Had a guy suck me on my last holiday. Couldn’t tell a difference, fuck, he was amazing. One of the best BJs I ever got. Definitely top 5… Although the chick from the strip show in Bangkok was good too…”

Erik tuned out and went over the details of the plan again. His rifle was cleaned and loaded. Wait ‘til Shaw comes back and the alarm is turned off, get to the backyard unseen, take position on the roof of the garage or the terrace of the neighbouring house, depending which bedroom Shaw chose tonight.

A clean shot, leave.

Done.

Erik took a deep breath; he could and would do it as efficient and clean as he always did. Get paid, and be one step closer to buying his mother the house in Florida.
And he never would have to see this washed-up slime ball ever again. Or listen to another story of how he harassed some tourist on a beach.

A Bentley arrived at the house. Suddenly the streams of obscenities next to him stopped and focused blue eyes turned to him:

“Showtime.”

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Erik retched the last bits of his dinner into the toilet bowl. The cut on his side hurt with every heave but at least the bleeding was stopped by the improvised compress.

Next to him lay the body of Shaw’s henchman, Charles’ belt still tight around his neck, eyes wide open and empty.
Erik had waded through a lot of shit in his life, had been in plenty dangerous situations where he learned to stay safe, keep his cool and keep his facilities.

Tonight it had all been for nothing.

It hadn’t been a mistake, not even a miscalculation, just an unforeseen change of events and everything went south. They both had been so close to losing their lives tonight. Only their lives if they’d been lucky.

Another heave wrecked his body as the realisation of what could have happened sunk deeper into his bones.

Charles returned to the bathroom, the blood on his faded smelly shirt, none of it his own, had almost dried. He bowed over the wash bowl and pulled off his pair of gloves, covered in slick red.

“Packed the last one up. The guts were everywhere, God, do I hate shatterguns. Promise me to never use them if you don’t have to!” Erik didn’t use them, they were messy and unsafe and attracted attention. The neighbouring house had been empty tonight but someone still might have heard, someone might have called the police, they had to get on their way…

“My rifle, it’s in the locker. We have to get it…”

“Already done. It’s with the rest of our stuff on the ground floor. You think you can make it down to the car?”

Erik nodded but his body wouldn’t agree as it kept throwing up stomach acid.

“Here” Charles extended his hipflask to him. The sip burned Erik’s irritated throat.

“I’m not like this usually. You must think me so foolish…”

“How long have you been working for the firm?”

“Two years, I know my job, I’m good at improvising, I never…”

“It’s 20 years for me. And this just was one of the worst jobs. It’s not your fault, I didn’t expect to see the girl, and like this, either. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” A small, rough hand patted his hair surprisingly cautiously.

20 years. Charles must have been a teenager back then. As if he could read his thoughts the other man nodded.

“Yes.” He grabbed the hipflask and took a swill himself, disconcerted by the taste of Erik’s sick.

Then he got up, carefully slipped under Erik’s arm on his unhurt left side and helped him to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Erik liked the floppy-haired one best.

No, that was wrong; Erik had long lost the concept of better and worse, at least the concept of what it had meant before the outbreak.
But whenever he crouched over a fresh body with the man in the torn blue cardigan close, the memories of the person whose brain tissue they were ingesting shone brighter.
As if they were amplified by something, a loop that made him see and relive them twice.

This one had been intelligent.

So much information was rushing in on Erik, he was getting drunk on it. Big villas, machines that could fly, equations, reactors and in the middle of it all: a red-haired woman.

The image sparked something in him and he looked up at the man across from him. His face was even paler than Erik’s, the colourless eyes big and currently closed, to allow the rush of the memories take him wholly.

When he opened them again he looked straight at Erik who for once remembered his own name, even if it was only for a few seconds. The corners of the other man’s lush, smeared-red mouth lifted and a barely there glimmer reached the pallid irises. It was… Erik knew this, he could feel it on the tip of his dry tongue… just like the red-haired woman, just like the wind blowing through the dead man’s hair… beautiful.

He reached for the cracked-open skull with the four long fingers he had left on his right hand and scooped out a bit more of the gooey red and yellow mass.

Instead of feeding himself, however, he offered it to the beautiful man opposite of him. Unblinking eyes stared at him for a long time.

Then the man in the cardigan dipped his head lower and carefully, so carefully lapped up the present.

A tower, the feeling of flying, fast, freedom.

This time the corners of Erik’s mouth lifted too, it was more a grimace than a smile but he didn’t care.

How could he, when all he saw was his expression mirrored twice as lovely in the almost pristine face?

They finished their meal and when they slowly scuffled back to this airport they were always drawn back to, the man in the blue cardigan extended his hand and took Erik’s in his.

A jolt he would never truly understand again shot through him, and something clattered in the background. Parts of a crushed metal suit had flown through the air and stuck themselves to Erik’s grey skin.

They only loosened hours later, when the other man let go of him for a few moments to arrange their cold bodies in the nest of airline blankets he had invited Erik in.

Chapter Text

The corners of a grim mouth twist up.

“I did expect the old pervert try to tempt me back in some ways, but seeing you here…”

“I’m not here on the professor’s behalf.” The long blue tail swishes irritated while the straight back it is attached to tenses.

“I’m here for you, Logan.”

“As much as I appreciate the sight, elf, I really do, I don’t have time for this.”

Dark, hungry eyes trail darker nails as they trace over blue skin. Up the abdomen, the sternum, a flat male chest…

“No, you’re busy killing people in the name of justice. Or was it retribution? Do you think Lucy would want this?”

The ravenous glint disappears.

“I do what I have to do. No one else will.”

Sharp, pointed nails stop on a collarbone, a clavicle, beneath.

“What does it say here? Do you remember?”

Logan remembers everything. The overpowering smell, the taste, the willowy body arching up into him, hot and unbroken. And the etchings in the skin, like stars in a night sky.

“Thou shalt not kill.” His voice is gravelly and old, so much older than the young foolishness before him.

“This isn’t about your God, elf…”

Cracking noises and sulphuric smoke press Logan back in his chair. Kurt is heavy but nothing he couldn’t unseat; if he wanted to.

“It all is, but we both have given up on making you see long ago, haven’t we? If it can’t be about God and what is right, tell me what you know about this sin’s consequences.”

Silence. A heavy weight that will not shift. There’s so much gentleness in the cruel, angry hands tracing fine white lines scattered over someone too good for them.

A rib. “Despair.” The thigh that keeps him still. “More death” The long vulnerable neck. “Grief.”
“Are they worth it? What is it that you really look for?”
The skin above the navel, so close to the only sin he can see, the one that counts and the one he wants to commit now, more than anything else. “Salvation.”

“And love? What about love?” The coarse fingers work on their own, they know the way to the curve of the cheek, to the nape of the neck and to the lips, parted in anticipation.

“Can you see that?”

“Hmm.”

The weight doesn’t shift, even when he pulls the face down and kisses the lips, opening up and drinking him down. The weight melts against him, securing him in his seat so much more powerful than before.

Before it kept him here. Now he wants to stay.

Chapter Text

Charles’ mouth felt parched. Swallowing hurt as his tongue tried to escape its coating of dried saliva. Reluctantly he opened his stuck- together lids and reached for the glass of water on his nightstand. The sips washed away the furriness and the tarry taste of someone else. The other half of Charles’ bed was empty though.

Good.

Tiny-waist had had the graciousness to leave while Charles was still asleep and spared him an awkward morning after. They didn’t get any less awkward, no matter how many times one had suffered through them, plus Charles felt he was getting too old for these kinds of hook-ups.

At least that was what he told himself every other week, but forgot about it the next.

Moira, Moira was the problem, his unhelpful brain supplied as he stretched out his muscles on the bed. She got him back in the clubs, it certainly was not his own doing that led to this parade of men and women through his bedroom.

He groaned at how flimsy that excuse sounded, even in his head, and laid back scratching his balls. Moira was great and could disperse his moping like no one else.

Charles was Charles’ problem.

Deep down he knew he wanted a relationship but he still tended to run whenever things got serious, and instead chose the terribly grown-up move (not) of boning the first willing person who crossed his drunken path.

Tiny-waist had been one of his better picks at least. He didn’t try to stick his dick up Charles’ arse after 20 minutes of drunken talk, just because Charles was teensy bit slutty.

Instead Charles had received a more than passable blow-job. He could have dealt with a little less fore-skin nibbling or teeth in general but it was ok for someone who didn’t know his preferences. He also could have guessed the dental difficulties when he’d noticed the shark grin in a vaguely attractive, blurry face from across the room.

Charles slowly, carefully brought his upper body in a vertical position. His tongue felt revived but the rest of him desperately needed to be hydrated too, so he got on his wobbly feet and into some boxers, just in case Raven dropped by or he’d forgotten the cleaning schedule again. One middle-aged Ugandan lady giggling at his ginger pubes a month was enough.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, however, he was the one who got the undressed surprise. Tiny-waist was rummaging through his cabinets, showing off his identifying feature in a particularly enticing manner.

“Oh, you’re up, I was going to wake you in a minute!”

“Hey…”

What was he still doing here? Charles took a moment to let the scene in front of him come to its full effect.

Tiny-waist in his jeans, and just his jeans, mind you, whistling cheerfully as he found some cups in the cabinet while a pot on the stove was steaming up the room. From Charles’ point of view it almost looked like the steam was coming off the man and he wouldn’t even be surprised if it did.

He was Hot. With a capital H.

Charles had been so wasted and horny last night, he’d done Mike Jeffries if he’d offered, but this guy was on the complete opposite of the scale. It looked like Charles had scored a 10 unwittingly. How did that happen? And how was he still here?

“What’s in the pot?”

“Chicken broth.”

“Whut?” So eloquent Charles, so eloquent.

Tiny-waist gave him a lopsided grin over his shoulder that went straight to Charles’ crotch despite the quite weird situation he was in.

“I know you guys are not used to this up here and it sounds a bit weird, but it’s the best hangover remedy. And I think we both are in desperate need for that after last night.”

The last sentence hid a bit of shame that reminded Charles of the fact that he hadn’t been the only one who’d been sloshed.

“Oh boy, definitely. I usually go with tea and bananas but this sounds… good too.”

Tiny-waist’s dashingly handsome grin widened.

“Let the effect convince you. Besides, I would have made breakfast but you don’t really have anything at home. Not that I have looked in many places. I sound creepy now, don’t I?”

A bit, yes. Charles was used to strangers preparing his breakfast from the days in his childhood estate, but those had been entirely different arrangements.

“Nooo, don’t worry. Thank you for doing this. I’m sorry that there isn’t anything else in the house. I just didn’t expect anyone to be here in the morning.”

Shit. That had been real smooth and Charles fumbled for words as the kind expression on Tiny-waist’s face cooled significantly.

“What I meant to say is that I suck at grocery shopping. Really bad. I can’t even plan for myself, never mind if I have to buy food for two people. But there is a café down the road that serves great breakfast, if you want to have a proper one. With me. After we ate your soup. Because I would like that very much and I’m very happy you stayed.”

He managed to sound not too pathetic and the stern look on the handsome face gentled again.

“Do they serve porridge too? I’m not too big on bacon and sausages.”

As if Charles hadn’t been able to tell by that trim, no ounce of fat, ready-to-be-worshipped-by-him body. Good God, please, let him not fuck this up for once.

“Amazing porridge, actually.”

“Alright. Sounds like a plan.”

Standing across from each other, taking each other in again with renewed (and mutual, whohoo) interest that fuelled a different kind of tension, the one question finally tumbled off Charles tongue.

“I’m really sorry, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I have to ask this before it gets too awkward: What‘s your name? I’m wrecking my brain, but I simply can’t remember it.”

Tiny-waist barked a dry laugh that Charles really would love to hear more often. A lot more often, please.

“Thank G-d, I thought I was the only dumbass who couldn’t remember the name of the man he’s slept with. It’s Erik. I’m Erik.”

He stretched out his arm a deprecating smile on his lips.

“How do you do. And you are?”

“Charles. Nice to meet you.” He couldn’t help the grin rising to the corners of his mouth, as he took the large, elegant hand that had the perfect warm grip around his own.

The point until which it was appropriate to shake a hand came and passed, but neither of them let go. They just stood in Charles’ kitchen, barely dressed, holding each other’s hand.

“First soup, then a shower?”

“Yes please.”

Chapter Text

“THIS!! THIS IS OUR STORE!!”

Charles lifted his arms over his head, nearly losing his already unsteady footing, to show off and embrace that unfortunate logo at the same time.
Moira couldn’t stop laughing even under the weight of Sean who had decided that she was the most comfortable walking post to carry him home.

“WE SHALL BUY ALL OUR COMPUTERS AT THIS STORE FROM NOW ON AND AT THIS STORE ONLY!!!”

Erik snatched their bottle of champagne from the cheering Armando and took two swills before he stumbled over to Charles and hugged his boyfriend’s waist from behind.

“Yesss, ‘morrow, we get all the computers.”

Charles smiled up at him, eyes blazing with excitement and amazement at his boyfriend’s obvious genius.

“They know us so well… DICKLOVERS!!”

The last part wasn’t screamed at the sign but at Erik’s face, who didn’t really care and started suck on Charles’ plump lips like his life depended on it.

In the background Armando and Alex took this as a sign to start making out too while Moira kept giggling under Sean’s blissed-out weight.

Only when Erik’s hand found its way to Charles’ increasingly more tented and hotter groin, and both of their fearsome leader on this night of Pub quizzes and too much sparkling wine started to moan as if they wanted to show the world just how much they loved dick right here and now, she caught herself.

“Guys, GUYS! We’re only a block away from home. Keep it zipped. I don’t wannae get arrested!”

Erik just kept grinding in on Charles’ ass but Moira’s surprisingly sharp mentally addressed CHARLES! showed some effect.

It didn’t stop Charles from doing something very obscene with his tongue, but the whispered “patience” that escaped those lips, parted in a filthy grin, made Erik snap out of it and call on them to move onwards.

Alex protested, climbing on Armando’s tall frame and hooking his legs around the other man’s waist, who just laughed louder and carried him in reversed piggyback position. Moira steadied Sean who kept sniffing her hair and mumbling about highland flowers and Erik and Charles walked wrapped around each other so tightly as if they were one being.

None of them really noticed the deafening crunch, or the ripped-from-the-wall shop sign that floated over their heads all the way home to their brownstone.

Chapter Text

“Is that MY shirt?”

“…no…?”

“Of course it is, Charles, what are you doing with a pink crop top? My pink crop top! Please don’t tell me it’s for one of your weird sex games again.”

Charles coughed and turned deep red as he backed away from Raven and reached for the door knob as inconspicuously as he could.

“Urgh, no. You are aware that you are rich enough to order your own kinky-fantasy outfits, right?”

The “It’s not for me” was only mumbled but Raven understood nonetheless. After an eye-roll that bore the exasperation of a nation and a deep sigh fed by decades of living under the same roof as her pervert brother she said: “Ok, take it. But you’re buying me a new one after. Nuh-uh-uh, Erik’s shoulders stretch any fabric beyond repair. Do you know how long I searched for the rockabilly dress he ruined the last time?”

“I’m so sorry, won’t happen again.”

“Yeah… go before I change my mind.”

Charles lips quirked up in a pleased grin but Raven just stared at him unimpressed.

“Did I ever tell you’re the best sister in the world?!

“Just leave.”

Chapter Text

Mornings like these are known as a Little Ice Age at the mansion. Not too severe, not too long, but strangely reminiscent of the days life wasn’t as peaceful as it is now. Charles’ and Erik’s fights are still passionate, but age has mellowed them and staying mad at each other has become a matter of hours instead of years.

Erik still stubbornly ignores Charles sitting at the table with his tea and newspaper when he enters the kitchen/breakfast room. Bishop quickly ducks in his armchair hoping for a sudden awakening of invisibility powers, Clarice, however, changes seats in the comfy conservatory to get a better look at the scene unfolding. So far Erik has poured himself some milk and holds a package of cereal in his hand.
His velvet bathrobe has the same colour as his cape used to, yet it is far less impressive and the look of uncertainty on his face doesn’t fit the old image either. He takes the chair 4 down from Charles’, not too close but it’s not the other end of the table either. Charles finishes his tea and scribbles in the newspaper while the air is filled with the crunching sound of determined cereal eating.

Soon he rolls over to Clarice, the smile on his face serene as always, but she can see the wickedness beneath. They talk about her trip to Washington and the new legislation for a few minutes, there isn’t really much news to tell before the Professor excuses himself to get dressed for the day. Clarice looks up, back in the breakfast room where Erik sits in the place the Prof was before, the newspaper now spread out in front of him. When Charles passes him he extends his hand, slowly, gently touching Erik’s stooped shoulders.

“I can’t believe you missed that.”

“Ah, didn’t see the nine in left row.”

“It’s good then that I’m here. Four eyes see more than two.”

“I’m always glad you’re here, not just when it comes to sudoku.”

Clarice isn’t a prude and she enjoys the real life soap opera being on air at the Xavier mansion 24/7, but when the old-men-make-up kissing turns into old-men-foreplay kissing she decides it’s time to leave. And to take Bishop, who looks war-torn and resigned, with her.

Chapter Text

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, Kommen Sie, COME AND SEE, TONIGHT AND TONIGHT ONLY: THE WOLVERINE!! HALF MAN, HALF BEAST. HE IS INDESTRUCTIBLE! NAILS, KNIVES, BULLETS, A LIVE BEAR! NOTHING WILL BRING HIM DOWN!!

A brown girl in grey slacks takes a white girl’s hand.

“Do you wanna see it? It’s only a quarter.”

“I don’t know. It sounds painful.”

The brown girl grins.

“And bloody. And exciting!”

The girl in the flowing skirt grins back, her hand squeezing her girlfriend’s. Like this they stroll to the admission stand, an air of adventure around them. Neither of them sees the cigar lightening up in the shadows of the wagon next to them. Nor the slim man, with skin as dark blue as the night surrounding them, who steps closer to the glow.

“Cute.”

“Yeah.”

Three strong, fingers with sharp nails run through thick, oily spiked hair while blue lips find the veiny temple beneath.

“Don’t let them wait.”

Chapter Text

Logan hates hospitals. Aside from the stench of disinfectants and human excretions, death lingered in them. Too many times he’d been called into one to say goodbye forever. So he was rather pleasantly surprised to see that the reason Professor had interrupted his sabbatical was to order him to the maternity ward. He wasn’t quite sure though what exactly he was supposed to do here. And why Erik Lensherr of all people was sitting in the bed of the room the nurse led him in.

“No, that can’t be my baby!”

Logan vaguely gestured at the enormous bulge under Magneto’s blanket.

“Technically there’s a 50/50 chance it’s Charles’, at least if you go by what happened in the night of the presumed conception...”

The fact that the bastard said those words in front of the attending doctors without a hint of a blush only confirmed Logan’s suspicion that they were severely mind-screwed.

“… but since the sperm count in paraplegic men tends to be lower I wouldn’t count on it.”

The expression on Erik’s face as he petted his protruding stomach could only be described as smug. Why? Logan was sure the other man hated him; most of the time at least. Why would he suddenly be happy that there was a chance the baby in his weirdly mutated innards which disregarded everything that was known about human anatomy thus far… oh.

“We will know after the precious little thing gets out today. Until then Charles and you can bet on who earned himself a cigar.”

“Today?! You couldn’t have told me earlier? Is Charles here? How long has he known?”

“Not much longer than you I’m afraid. He turned up at the doorstep of the mansion looking like that a week ago.”

“He’s somewhere outside, making sure the humans don’t notice anything amiss. I’ve got to get ready for the caesarean, my hips are too narrow to push the peanut out naturally…” Erik said this as if it was a mild annoyance while Logan’s eyes grew wide at the thought of pushing a baby out where he, or Charles, presumably had put it in when they made up after a huge fight nine months ago.

“Please, don’t think of that ever again!”

“Go and talk to Charles. I’ve said everything I have to say to him before.”

Erik waved him away as if he was a disobedient servant and not the potential father of… Oh God, what hell had he walked in now?

Logan found the Professor in hallway contemplating the quality of the coffee vending machine tea. He plopped down on the bench next to his chair and stared into space for a good 20 minutes. Charles sipped his over-sweetened orange tea, both of them awkward and lost for words.

“So pregnant, huh?”

“Who would have thought?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way Chuck, but I sure as hell hope it’s yours. I don’t think I’m the right man to father a child. Never mind with Erik.”

“Actually, about that. In the wake of this little revelation I did some work with Cerebro and… do you remember a Japanese woman named Itsu?”

Chapter Text

“Relax, would you!”

“You talk! This hurts. Can’t we use something? I’ve got Vaseline on my nightstand.”

“Stop being a baby, Sean, if it goes in it’s gonna come out too.”

“Noooo, ow ow ow!”

“Aw man, shut it, you’re gonna wake everybody up!”

“No, please, Alex, get Hank, maybe he can do it. I can’t spend the night here on my knees.”

“What on earth are the two of you doing?”

Alex and Sean snap around, the back of their heads illuminated by the fluorescent light of the vending machine. Judging by Erik’s tone and the dangerous smile on his lips he’s been watching them for a while.

“Were the chips really worth it?”

Sean thumps his forehead against the cool glass, his arm still stuck deep in the machine.

“Great, just who I needed right now.”

“Actually you do need me. I’m the only one who can get you out of there.”

Sean’s face indicates that he was perfectly aware of that fact, yet chose to ignore it.

“It will cost you though.”

“What? What do I have that you could possibly want?”

Erik leans against the machine; his eyes frighteningly pale in the cold light. He’s a psycho, everyone in the dorm knows it, but unless Kitty miraculously decides to come over for a short visit, he’s Sean’s best chance to get out of this fuck-up. Without losing an arm that is.

“Charles Xavier’s phone number.”

“What? Why?”

“I didn’t say I had to state my reasons, just that I want his number. And you have to say please.”

“Oh God, you wanna bone him, don’t you…”

Erik crosses his arms in front of his chest and the words die on Alex’ tongue.

“Fine, I’ll give you his number. Would you get me out of this now? Please?”

“With a little more conviction.”

Alex clenches his fists but Sean just sighs deeply.

“Dear Erik, master of magnetism, fearsome destroyer of football goals and defacer of politically incorrect university property: would you in exchange for the telephone number of the fair TA Charles Xavier III, a well-known faculty bicycle who you probably only would have to show your abs to to get laid, free me from this precarious situation I have found myself in? Please?”

Alex can’t hold back the snorts and giggles even if Erik looks like he’s going to bite a puppy’s head off.

“Was that convincing enough?”

Erik grumbles but the metal of the machine does bend and Sean finally, after 45 minutes, can pull his hand free. He writes down the number of Professor Frost’s TA on a piece of cardboard from the trash bin next to the machine. He barely finishes the circle of the last zero when Erik basically rips it out of his tingling fingers.

“Happy now? Are we cool?”

Erik doesn’t even nod before he rambles off back to his room, smashing his door behind him.

“What a weirdo.”

“Tell me about it. For a second I thought I was as good as gone. I hope he doesn’t terrorize Charles too much. I like the guy… You want to get some chips?”

“Oh come on!”

“I’m still hungry!”

Chapter Text

By the time Erik had taken a shower, brushed his teeth, drunk a cup of his stomach-walls burning coffee and returned to his studio/living room/bedroom, the blanket covered lump on the lonely mattress still hadn’t moved.

“Get up!!”

“Mrrrrrnnn.”

Erik not-so-gently prodded the lump with his bare foot.

“Come on, it’s time!”

“Just five more minutes…”

“I’m not your mother Charles…”

The lump snorted derisively.

“… nor am I your nanny or whoever maid had the honour of waking you up. I’m leaving in two minutes.”

The lump stretched and two pale legs appeared on one end, while a mop of unruly, brown hair appeared on the other.

“You’re a tyrant, that’s what you are.”

“No, I’m a responsible person who won’t leave you here to fall asleep again.”

Erik knelt down on the mattress and pulled the blanket off his struggling boyfriend’s body.

“And I won’t let you lose another job just because you can’t be arsed to show up on time.”

He forcefully kissed the stubbly cheek Charles tried to hide in his pillow and slapped the now bare, pasty bottom. It earned him a tad less annoyed “mrrrr”.

Erik quickly got dressed and fulfilled the minimum of hair brushing necessary to make him look decent for the day. When he turned around from the large studio mirror Charles had awkwardly sat up on the bed and slightly puffy blue eyes were watching him.

“Morning.”

The sun shone through the big windows, dust danced in the rays. Charles’ hair stood up in charmingly wild tufts, his freckles clear against his pale skin and the expression on his red mouth turned soft.

“Morning.”

Chapter Text

On the TV screen the man in the purple spacesuit floated through darkness. “Well… here I am”. Then the music started playing over the credits.
“Oh wow, that was great! What a villain. Your rambling about the writing starts to make sense.” Erik pulled Charles under his arm, a teasing smile on his face.

“Let’s watch another one.”

Charles who very willingly had let himself being manhandled and nestled closer to Erik’s lean body looked up in surprise.

“There isn’t another one.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“There isn’t another episode, Firefly was cancelled after fourteen episodes, this was the last one.”

“That’s it? This is the end? But there are so many lose ties! What’s going on with River? Will they escape? Who are the men in blue? For the love of G-d, Simon and Jayne never get it on?!”

Erik rose from Charles’ enormous sofa and strode through the living room. Charles watched him amused and shot his boyfriend an apologetic look.

“No. Not enough people watched it, so FOX cancelled the series.”

“How could they CANCEL SOMETHING AS GREAT AS THIS??!! Oh, I will write them. A letter they won’t forget so quickly. Seriously, how insane do they have to be?” While Erik turned around and stomped away to get his tablet Charles struggled to rein his laughter in.

“Erik! Firefly was cancelled 12 years ago, it won’t come back no matter what you write to the poor interns. Joss Whedon and the actors have moved on.”

“That’s no excuse!”

Erik came back furiously swiping over his tablet. Before he could type “Where to demand that FOX fires the executive who cancelled Firefly” though, Charles took his hand and kissed his knuckles.

“They made a movie. It doesn’t explain everything but it’s really good too. You even get to see the Reavers.”

“Reavers… so are the aliens or aren’t they?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out. Be a love and put it in the DVD player, it’s a few cases down from Raging Bull.”

Chapter Text

Charles woke to a rustling sound followed by a loud thud. The silvery frame of his wheelchair shone in the dark room and the right half of his bed was rapidly cooling.

“Scheiße…”

In the corner by the door the distinct pain of a stubbed toe flared up in Erik’s mind.

“Erik? What are you doing?”

The fact that there wasn’t an immediate answer and that the part responsible for constructing lies lighted up in Erik’s brain, couldn’t mean anything good.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
Charles just sighed. It seemed like all the time he’d invested in teaching Erik how to build shields for his own comfort had been for nothing.

“Erik, why exactly do you need chloroform at… two in the morning?”

“What? What chloroform? Why would I have chloroform on me? As if I needed chloroform to knock anyone out. Am I a 50s crime-show perp? It’s not even a good anaesthetic. Takes far too long and it’s proven to be highly unreliable and risky.”

“So why were you thinking of the bottle in Hank’s cabinet then?”

Silence from Erik’s corner.

“He gave you a look.”

“What? Who?!”

“The maître d at the restaurant tonight.”
Charles face was completely blank in the dark.

“He looked at you all funny. At your wheelchair and at us. Probably a homophobic, ableist human…” If going by emphasis the last word clearly was the most offending of the three.

“I’m not going to kill him, don’t worry. But he deserves a good scare.” A row of white shark teeth gleamed up in the corner. ‘At least Erik is wearing an all-black spy outfit instead of his cape’ Charles thought, only to realise that this did not support his fiancé’s claim of sanity.

“Erik, if you’re going to pay a nightly visit to everyone who thinks that we’re a strange pair of rich queens…”

“That’s what he thought? I knew it!! I’m going to…”

“Sleep on the couch for the rest of the month if you don’t get back to bed in the next five seconds. I’m done with this; you said you were done with this. If you can’t handle one stupid look how is this supposed to work if we encounter real problems?”

“But…”

“Erik, no. Take that energy and do something useful. Logan’s taking the new recruits out for survival training tomorrow. Go with them if you have to, but leave that boy alone. It’s not as if Philadelphia Freedom wasn’t permanently stuck in his head anyway.”

The last bit Charles mumbled in his pillow as he turned to the side under his blanket. Charles was sure that even non-telepaths could hear the words settling into Erik’s conscience. Then there was a soft laugh and the mattress slightly dipped.

“You’re much crueller than I am.”

“I highly doubt that. I even have evidence that this isn’t the case.”

Erik just let out some non-verbal, dismissive sounds, Charles could hear another rustle of clothes and then he felt Erik’s bare torso nestle itself behind him.

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

It never took him more than 5 minutes to fall asleep like this, comfortable and snug in Erik’s embrace. And if he dreamt of the possible effects of highly dosed chloroform on Logan and how to test them best in a secluded forest, well, some things could wait until the next day.

Chapter Text

Charles blinked. Charles blinked again. Erik sure was handsome, but the smartest he was not. Unless this was meant to be a weird, unfunny joke it was one of the most bizarre questions Charles had ever heard. Just to test him he said:

“Well, I enjoy the different flavours. The tickle on my tongue. Life would be boring with just one taste.”

Erik gawped and a fierce blush was creeping up his cheeks. Nope, he’d been serious about it. And he’d also been serious about that crush Charles had felt him harbouring these past few weeks. Charles’ sadistic side decided to make an appearance.

“Lemon zest can be so refreshing you know? Making me salivate so much. If I feel a bit fruity, pomegranate does the trick. The others are more classic, perfect thing in the morning, they always get you in the right mood for the day.”

The blush spread over Erik’s whole face now but Charles was quite sure that the remaining blood was pumped somewhere south, given Erik’s dumbstruck stare that wouldn’t leave Charles’ lips. He licked them and the other man honest to God moaned.

Charles leaned in and whispered: “You know which ones I like the best? The smooth ones that hit you right in the throat, warm and creamy. Mmmmhhh…”

Charles moved even closer, his hand touching Erik’s shirt lightly as if to straighten some wrinkles.

“Usually though, I just put them in a pot of boiling water. Let them soak for a few minutes.” There was a moment of dramatic silence before Erik audibly winced and his terror-filled gaze finally went up to Charles’ eyes.

“What?!!”

“Because they’re teabags. Not condoms. That’s what you’re supposed to do with teabags.”

Erik stared at him, then at the teabags, then back at him. After what had to be at least 2 minutes he turned on his heels and left without another word.

————————————————

Erik hadn’t talked to Charles for almost a week. In fact he’d consciously avoided the other man and sometimes quite spectacularly dodged any possibility of contact. Everything so the other man would forget his terrible black-out where he thought talking about condoms with Charles would lead to anything. Condoms, which turned out to be innocent teabags. The shame still sat so deep!

But everything would be fine, Charles would forget and they would return to their inconsequential workspace small-talk and Erik would pine from afar again.

So when he opened the letter without an addressee on his desk he expected nothing. Two rose petal black tea bags fell out,the smell unobtrusively sweet and utterly delicious. Attached to them was a short note in eccentric handwriting:

“I hope you didn’t take my little jibe too bad. If yes, I apologise. This is an offering of peace. I take my break at 3:15. If you don’t mind, I’d love to share these condoms with you. They are my favourite.”

Chapter Text

“We were best friends in kindergarten; he spent time with me when no one else would. The kid taught me how to speak English for crying out loud. The least I can do is give him head.”

“No, Erik, no. You’re drunk, please, stop!” Emma grabbed her boss/friend at the lapels of his open suit jacket.

“I’m not that drunk. And he’s GORE-GEOUS! Who would have thought that Charlie Xavier would become this hot?”

“Erik we’re in a bar. There are other people here, you’re not going over there to offer a man you haven’t seen in 20 years a blow-job.”

“But what if someone beats me to it?”

Emma sighed and rather forcefully dragged the drunken horny baby to a booth. Going out with the office after closing a deal usually was a lot of fun since she enjoyed watching people go wild and behave like idiots. Loads of blackmail material was to be collected these hours, but Erik was a tad too important to her (and her career plans) to let him make a fool out of himself.

“Wait here. I’ll get you some water. Promise me to stay and not to do anything stupid and I will help you conquer the hearts of all the pretty boys you want.”

“I want him!”

“And we will get him, but not now, ok?”

Erik honest-to-god whined but swayed down on the stylish leather bench nonetheless.

Emma never really had to wait at a bar and tonight shouldn’t be an exception given the tight sparkly white top she wore, but the second before she could make eye-contact with the barkeeper an auburn head of hair walked into her line of sight. She cleared her throat but wished she had gone for something wittier the moment she was looking into the biggest, deepest brown doe-eyes she had ever seen. The woman was beautiful! Delicate, doll-like perfection!

“Oh, sorry, did I take your spot?”

One of Emma’s most treasured gifts was to regain composure in no time.

“Don’t worry sugar, it’s alright. Maybe you’ll catch his eye quicker.”

The gorgeous elfin creature looked her up and down approvingly and with a cutely wicked smile she said:

“I somehow doubt that.”

“Well, we could always get a drink together. I’m Emma by the way.”

“Moira, nice to meet you.”

“So, Moira, what shall we order?”

“I’m in the mood for gin tonics, but my friend over there sent me to get whiskey.”

She turned around, Emma took in the lightly toned arms under the glowing skin, and pointed at… Xavier. Erik’s object of desires. Who currently was looking straight into the direction where she had left said Erik.

Emma wished for a fold to open up and swallow her whole when she saw the words Erik was currently and very conspicuously mouthing at the pretty brown-haired luvvie.

I. HAVE. NO. GAG. REFLEX.

To Emma’s surprise however, Charlie’s eyes lit up at the humiliating display and he left his group of friends to beeline towards Erik’s booth.

“Aaand there he goes.” Moira sighed next to her. “He’s a good guy and I love him to no end, but he’s a letch. Sees a trim waist and a nice ass and he’s gone. The poor lad over there has no idea what he’s getting into.”

“Yeaaah…”

“What? You know him?”

Emma watched the excited hug of recognition that quickly turned into the excited grope of recognition. Then she glanced down at the huge, inquisitive fawn eyes and the pouty lips.

“No. I don’t know him. Never seen him before. So it was a gin tonic you wanted?”

Moira grinned and slid her body closer. The bartender was at their service in mere seconds.

Chapter Text

It seemed like a good idea at the time. An infallible solution to so many problems. But when Erik Lehnsherr lets his powers flow over the tiny metal device lodged deep into the telepath’s brainstem, he isn’t so sure anymore.

This isn’t his Charles. It is something entirely different. A feral beast, deadly and so valuable in its use. A dangerous tool Erik is confident he can control, yet one that retains mystery. He watches as the creature before him cleans the bloody knife on its black trousers. Charles didn’t believe in killing. This thing delights in it. There are no weapons needed, a jump into a targets mind from a far distance is enough to crush their thoughts and being; to erase life from their breathing shells. But whenever Erik lets him choose, this Charles goes up close. And it’s a joy to watch. The assurance and grace with which the compact body moves among its prey, the feeling of a metal blade ramming into a person’s back and see it twist twist twist… The splatters of red blood so vivid as they run down the pale skin.

Charles looks up and there is a light in his eyes Erik has never seen before. It speaks of satiety and hunger at the same time. Erik’s eyes trail lower, down the long neck to the finely-muscled naked torso that still moves sharply with the quick, excited draws of breath. He steps closer, stretching his fingers to trace the blood and smear it over the white chest absentmindedly. The creature growls, quietly, purring, and the shiver under his touch isn’t one of fear. Erik gazes up to the exquisitely drawn lips and sees them curl in a slow smile that never reaches the wild eyes. Before he can think, Erik grabs Charles by the neck and claims those lips in a brutal kiss. The response is equally forceful, an annoyed snarl escapes somewhere between their linked mouths and blunt nails almost become claws as they scrape against Erik’s shirt.

‘This isn’t Charles’ Erik thinks as he holds the tiny metal device tight in his powers.

Chapter Text

The storage room was tiny. One man barely fit, never mind two. Especially not if one of the two was this exquisitely muscled hunk Kurt had not-so-secretly drooled over the last thirty minutes.

Now he was pressed against the hard, hairy chest on one side and against an instable shelf on the other. If this had been under any other circumstances, he could have perched on that wooden plank, slung his legs around that chunky waist, gotten his tail out of the way…

No, no this was not the time to be horny. The sounds of heavy boots stomping over the club’s fancy parquet floor leaked through the door, accompanied by angry shouts from the winged landlady and indistinct chatter of the task force.

His saviour had been quick. From his stage, where he’d transfixed an embarrassed but nonetheless enthralled Kurt with his understated and controlled dance moves, he’d leapt down and grabbed him mere seconds before Stryker’s hounds had stormed the club. Raids like these were common in mutant owned establishments, even more so in “morally reprehensible” ones like male strip clubs. Kurt, without his pesky collar, would have earned whoever caught him a nice bonus. But this man, the Wolverine as the little plaque on his platform had told a cringing Kurt, had brought him to safety, here in his burly arms, hidden from all the enemy’s eyes… Kurt promised himself the moment he started rubbing his face against the hairy chest like a snuggly kitten that he would never ever read any of Rogue’s romance novels again.

“I’m so sorry, I’m not usually like this…”

“Shhhh!”

“… the girls kept pouring champagne and you’re so hot…”

“Shhh, stop talking bub, you’re giving us away!”

Kurt liked the voice very much. So gruff and manly. He wondered how he would sound in the morning, waking up next to him. He sighed deeply which only led to an inhale of the stripper’s lovely scent of musk and bronzer. Why oh why couldn’t this be under different circumstances?! After a nice date maybe, with actual conversation about why a human stripper would risk his freedom to save a prong-tailed, blue-skinned mutant like him… Only then in clicked in Kurt’s mind.

“Wait, what do you mean by us?”

But the other man just twisted his head like a dog, listened and sniffed.

“They’re getting closer. Be quiet,” he hissed before he turned slowly in the confined space, shielding Kurt with his massive body. Long metal claws grew from his hands when he leaned against the doorframe and oh, wouldn’t the Professor love that?

Kurt sure did.

It was time to cut this short though. He could also hear the men approaching and he had no desire to spend the next month in jail, not even if he got to share his cell with the strapping fellow beside him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get us out.”

The other man shot him an incredulous look over the shoulder.

“Just hold on. Or better, let me hold on. Und hopp!”

Kurt swung himself on the other man’s back as gracefully as he could and with an almost silent plop he teleported them to a roof on the next block.

“Tadaaah!”

“What was that?”

“Teleportation, mein Freund. One of my many talents.”

Kurt took a little bow he regretted as soon as he saw the nonplussed face of the stripper. So instead he outstretched his hand:
“Kurt Wagner. Thank you for thinking of me down at the club. You saved me from a whole lot of unpleasantries.”

“It’s debatable who saved who.” The burly man took Kurt’s three-fingered hand and seemed to really, actually look at him for the first time tonight. Kurt couldn’t fight the purple blush creeping to his cheeks.

“Call me Logan. And thanks. Are your friends gonna be alright?”

“Jubilee… Oh no, all the others are registered. I hope Kitty got to her in time. I’m so sorry, I have to go.”

“You gotta place to go?”

“Hm? Oh, oh yes, I do. A safe place, the school where I teach. There are no collars needed over there.” Kurt reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card with a simple silver X .

“If you ever feel like being amongst friends, give us a call. I’m so sorry I really have to go, you’re an amazing dancer and it was a joy to watch you. I mean… *chrm* well. Do you need a lift down to the street?”

Logan looked him up and down and smirked a smirk so full of damnable smug attractiveness Kurt’s tail curled involuntarily. Then he took the card.

“Teacher you say, eh? At a school that’s safe for mutants? Hm, don’t worry I’ll be fine, I can look out for myself.”

He sheathed his claws as if to remind Kurt they were there.

“Go take care of your friend.”

“Of course.” Kurt took a few steps away towards the ledge of the building. “If she got caught there is nothing the Professor won’t do to get her back. I just need to check for my own sanity.” In his head he added ‘Even if there are other things that would contribute to my sanity too. Like a satisfactory love-life’.

“So, see you soon?”

The smirk grew even wider (he was not a telepath, was he?!) and Logan lifted his hand in a small goodbye gesture.

“Yeah, see ya soon, elf.”

Chapter Text

Erik was very proud of them. They had kept the fighting to a minimum. Usually, when he and Charles got going, they could be at each others’ figurative throats for hours before they got to the pleasant throat related activities. Nothing had been the same since Shaw’s death; both of them drifters on the ever spreading borders of this young country. New gold to prospect, new territories to steal, new leaders in the south to extend their arms their way. Charles and Erik could agree that governor Trask was up to no good but how to deal with the growing threat…

Today it seemed they both were too exhausted to really claw into it. The law didn’t reach those valleys, so some people had assumed they could just do as they pleased. Erik had stood up when some no-good, horse-shit-eating road agents had troubled Miss Frost’s saloon again and he held the position of an Ersatz Marshall ever since. The job had been chosen for Erik, not the other way round. It came with a lot of nasty duties and foes he could handle most of the time, but he thought about quitting every day nonetheless.

Charles spent his days and nights travelling from camp to camp, stitching up one unlucky prospector after the other, mixing ointments for some nanny’s inflamed nether and occasionally walking right into a fever-ridden Native village. In the beginning Charles had stubbornly refused to be called “Doc” - he’d never gone to med school - but he’d stopped fighting after he’d safely led a small settlement through a bout of smallpox.

Which of course meant: They didn’t get to see each other nearly enough, so when they immediately stopped any squabbling as soon as they crossed the hotel’s threshold this time, he was more than pleased. It took a few violent kisses and five furious minutes of rutting against each other in the dark of the hallway to get the tension out of the way, but now they’d left the harsh, godforsaken world behind closed bridal suite doors and lazed together in a shiny tin tub.

The water was cooling as Erik splashed it like he had as a child and couldn’t help the smile as his gaze went up to Charles’ sleepy face. They’d used his razors before they’d climbed in the bath and clean shaved like this Charles didn’t look a day older than when they’d first met. Both boys, wide-eyed and still so impressionable. His white skin wasn’t burned anymore but freckled wherever he couldn’t keep the sun at bay. On his nose, his neck his shoulders, the lightly-haired forearms resting on the tub’s rim. It wasn’t big enough for both of them so Charles’ legs dangled from the sides, spread around Erik’s knees. He had more hair on them so Erik stroked the pale, fuzzy skin.

He didn’t spare the scar tissue which marred the otherwise so pristine long limbs. It had been his fault, his mark that he did not intend to leave. It had happened a long time ago, time had brought forgiveness and him back into Charles’ arms. Erik trailed his fingers down from the destroyed knee to the knobby feet and wet toes. Erik had Greek feet, the epitome of ancient beauty standards, or so Charles had told him at least. Charles on the other hand had crudely shaped, big feet to go along with his strong, short-fingered paws. Charles was handsome, beautiful even, in an almost feminine way if he wanted to, but his hands and feet were the ones of a working man. They betrayed his heritage as much as Erik’s elegant gentlemanly hands betrayed his.

None of that mattered though. They’d both left where their names had any meaning to them, looking for a new and different life. They’d gone west and the West didn’t care who they were before, all that counted was what it had made out of them.

He carefully ran his thumb over the calloused ball of Charles’ foot and wondered… He could feel Charles’ smile before he saw it.

“Really Erik? I’ve worn my boots for four days straight. I don’t think this would taste half as good as you imagine it will.”

“Nosy nosy nosy. Why not though? It’s clean now.”
He splashed some water on it to demonstrate his point.

Charles’ smile widened and he opened his eyes a lazy slit.
“Go on if you have to. But if you’ll let me soak for a few more minutes I can give you something bigger to suck on.”

“I can’t see why I shouldn’t have both.” He licked a long stripe along Charles' toe for emphasis.

Charles all but kicked him in the face when he broke into loud laughter.

“Stop it. I’m ticklish” yet he forced his foot to keep still and watched on, half-amused half aroused as Erik nibbled on the thick skin. Carefully Erik pecked his way up the sensitive area of the midfoot that never carried any weight, up to the ball of the toes and Charles’ tiny pinky toe. It got a kiss on its own while he licked the others and playfully nipped on the nails. Charles practically glowed with delight and naughty mischief but just before Erik could engulf the big toe with his mouth to exhibit some of his special skills, Charles sat up straight and his eyes turned blank.

“Oh no…”
“What-” he started when he felt the familiar metals approach.

“Boss! BOOOSSS”

Janos was fast and took three steps per strait. He’d thought he’d given them enough money for women and booze and clear enough instructions not to bother him this weekend. Apparently he’d been mistaken and he felt a wave of white hot anger rise when the fool barged into his personal sanctum. It wasn’t a secret among his men what Erik and the Doc got up to, but Janos’ eyes still widened at the display before his chiseled features froze.

“What the heck is he doing here? Charles, I left them over at the saloon.”

Charles just rubbed his temple.

“Stryker. They ran into Stryker. Hank saw him too. There’s another guy… Canadian. They’re going to fight”

“Good, let them!”

Erik sank back in the tub and drew Charles’ foot to his chest.

“Erik we can’t.” Charles struggled free and prepared to stand up.

“No wait!”

He knew they couldn’t. But he wanted. He sent Charles the images of a chessboard, platters of home-cooked food, no roasted squirrels, more baths, proper whiskey. The sensation of Charles’ tongue up his ass and the sight of Charles’ legs wrapped around his body in even more pleasurable circumstances. One weekend of their own after weeks of absence. Two days of food, booze and gloriously indulgent sex.

Charles sighed “wouldn’t that be grand” but sent him the image of a burly, wild looking man circling Stryker’s infamously branded horse instead and got to his feet.

Charles in all his soapy, naked glory right in front of Erik’s face. So close and yet so far away. Erik cursed his life. Who gave a damn if those fools started a bloodbath? Stryker was a nuisance anyway. He didn’t trust the asshole and if some dirty rover decided to rid Erik off him, he should probably thank him.

“You’re right not to trust Stryker but this isn’t a solution. Plus…”

Charles had this concentrated look on his face that he always got when he was rummaging more deeply in someone’s head. Erik would be lying if he said he didn’t find it disconcerting. Disconcerting and sexy as hell. Sexy like everything about Charles; like the wet vee of dark curls and his lovely, lovely thick cock, only inches away… Erik stretched his fingers.

“Oh, that is magnificent. The rover, he’s a mutant too.”

Of all the things Charles could have said, this probably was the only one that could focus Erik’s attention on something else than what temptingly dangled before him.

“What?”

“Yes, another mutant, quite powerful too; what a fascinating manifestation…”

Charles stepped out of the tub and Erik joined him with a sigh. They hastily dried themselves off with the non-scratchy towels Erik had specifically ordered and got dressed (no, no wrong direction, pull those breeches OFF, Charles, not up…)

“Unfreeze the poor fellow, would you?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry, of course.”

Down the stairs they went and followed by a very confused looking Janos they stumbled to the dusty street to stop some Canadian from making Erik’s life easier.

Chapter Text

Raven gasped for air when she dropped down on the cool stone at the riverbed. Finally safe. She inspected the cuts on her thighs where reeds, rocks and claws had broken her blue skin. Bolivar probably was the shortest giant who had ever lived, but he was just as vicious as the rest. Carefully she stepped down to the water to wash her wounds when she noticed that she wasn’t alone.

Upstream a faun was cleaning a silver-y apparatus in the stream. He was so immersed in his activity he hadn’t noticed her back and didn’t look up either when Raven slowly crawled closer. He was adorable. Short like all the fauns were but not slight; just the right mix of muscles and softness under pale skin that stood in such lovely contrast to his dark, shiny fur and hair. His face carried a deeply concentrated expression and his hands were so careful yet deft when they handled the fragile looking instrument.

Raven sighed. Why did it always have to be the brutes? Giants, gods, titans, by Pluto, she didn’t even know what the one with the red skin and the tail was. It didn’t matter really, they all treated her terribly. A thing to be carried off. Couldn’t she for once catch the eye of someone nice, pretty and thoughtful, who truly cared about her?

"That could be arranged" a voice in Raven’s head said and she nearly fell forward into the water.

The faun had looked up - eyes bright and endlessly blue - and a wide smile that revealed his sharp teeth appeared on the handsome face.

After some angry shouts and aggressive posturing on Raven’s part, met by nervous, apologetic ear flicks of the faun, it turned out that he hadn’t crudely propositioned her. Well, not in the sense Raven had assumed. Apparently he lived in a big cave up the hill, which he shared with a number of creatures who weren’t like everyone else. He for example was blessed with a gift of insight, the same way Raven could change her form as many times as she pleased. And there were others too who could do the most marvellous things. He invited her to join him and see for herself.

“No, we’ll walk there, I won’t carry you off, I promise.”

The cave could be reached through an inconspicuous entry but was enormous and probably the most stunning home Raven had ever seen. High walls of stalactites and stalagmites, large crystals which filtered and spread the rays of sunlight falling in, and filled with the most precious furniture that one could steal from the human markets.

“I bought them! I’m not a thief, my dear.”

There indeed were many others of their kind present. A beautiful dark skinned sphinx played with two faunlings, one of them so fast Raven’s eyes couldn’t follow him hopping over the stones of the small clear brook that led through the bottom of the cave. A large centaur with a thick blue coat gave writing lessons to a group of adolescent satyrs, nymphs and sphinxes on the central square, while - it couldn’t be - two human women prepared food in an well-trodden kitchen area. A male harpy with long red curls was at their side, obviously eager to help but the younger woman kept shooing him away.

“I didn’t know that there were so many… I have never seen anything like this…”

“You’re welcome to join us here any time you want. There’s always enough room.”

The faun, Charles he said his name was, pointed at the sleeping berths which were nestled between the stalagmites, giving the inhabitants the nominal privacy common amongst their kind.

“I admit, it’s a bit unusual but we do make it work. We all try hard, and if complications arise, we have our ways to resolve them.”

In the main berth, on a giant bed lavishly decorated with silks and furs, the biggest and hairiest male timber nymph Raven had ever seen cuddled the relaxed and fine-looking form of a second male nymph. They were so rare, one was lucky if they met one in a human lifetime, so to see two of them, together, and with Charles’ tail flicking so excitedly at the sight, Raven couldn’t but ask:

“Are they yours?”

The faun blushed but at the same time his naked chest swelled with pride.

“Yes. These two I carried off.”

The image how the giant timber nymph, or even the other one, lean but still tall had fit on Charles’ shoulders just did not work in Raven’s mind.

“Ah. I’m stronger than I look. Plus they both came willingly. Very very willingly, I have to say. So I hope you do see that you don’t have to fear me chasing you? I’m a very happily occupied faun.”

Raven couldn’t suppress a grin. The two men looked like they could be a handful in Spring. But if the faunlings at the brook were anything to go by, the union worked and was fruitful. It would have surprised her if it wasn’t. She had yet to meet a faun who would say no to more partners and/or an orgy.

In that moment the older human woman walked up to them and Raven wondered how in Gaia’s name she hadn’t recognised her beauty before. Lither than any nymph with a thick shock of greying brown hair and cheekbones as if they were carved out of marble. Raven only realised she was blind when she was few steps away.

“Moira asks if our new guest wants to join us for dinner. I told her she would pick the braised okras but she insists it’s politer to ask anyway.”

Charles’ blue eyes lit up as he turned between them.

“Raven, this is Irene, our human seer. Cursed to live a human life seven times longer than the average in exchange for the knowledge of the future. Irene, this is the nymph Raven, who is chased by brutes all day and night and wishes to meet someone gentle for a change.”

Raven blushed furiously at Charles’ mischievous grin but Irene, who couldn’t see her purpling skin, just bowed.

“It is my pleasure. Are you joining us at the table, Charles, or will you see to Erik first?”

The leaner male nymph had moved on the bed in the meantime but not woken up. The sheet covering his torso had slid down and revealed an enticing new area of the exquisitely built body. Charles’ tail flicked frantically and he licked his lips, not taking the eyes of what was laid out on his bed.

“I will be there soon. Could you please take our guest, Irene?”

Irene offered Raven her arm and pulled the nymph (who had sighed loudly at the touch of the wonderfully soft human skin) away from the berths.

“Did you see this coming too?”

“What? That Charles would forego food for his iron nymph? Honey, you don’t have to be a seer to know that. Or do you mean the fact that the two of us will get along splendidly?”

The woman cackled, held her even closer and winked at Raven with a huge, happy smile.

Chapter Text

Erik was a good looking guy. He worked out, ate well, had good genes on his mother’s side and generally put an effort behind his appearance. Those were indisputable facts. It unfortunately was also a fact that ever since he had quit his job and went back to grad school he was piss poor and therefore did not fit in with the rich and elegant hipster crowd at The Cantina.

The café itself was something like an insider’s tip, with amazing, satiating food and an unbeatable value-for-money ratio. At this location and for the quality of what came on the plates every other owner would have asked for much higher prices, but the barrel-chested Canadian - who worked in his own kitchen and wore flannel shirts unironically - insisted on keeping them at a level that allowed even Erik to go there semi-regularly.

The rest of the clientèle, however, mainly consisted of the young, cool and hip employees of the creative design studios and independent research laboratories of the area. People who came from money, studied whatever they wanted and never had to fear unemployment since daddy’s money would keep them and their projects afloat no matter what. They dressed with truly effortless chic, let the oh so underground labels of the organically-harvested, locally produced, lined with unicorn hair clothes that cost more than what Erik could spend on rent in a month speak for themselves, and just shone in their expensively un-groomed attractiveness.

Erik despised them.

He would never have mingled with these sorts of insipid, bourgeois, shallow cretins if it wasn’t for the tafelspitz. Alas, the beef tasted just like the way it had when his grandmother prepared it, soft and tender with a hint of the rich vegetable broth it had been cooked in. For seven dollars only! So he was going to The Cantina, fuck it if he got looks for his cheap K-mart hoodies. He had a right to be here just as everyone else and damnright, was he making use of it!

No matter how sincerely he believed in his rights as a poor mutant student though, there still was a little guilt left when he thought of the second reason for why he liked to eat at The Cantina. He had noticed Blue-eyes the second time he went there and how could he not? He was one of them, wore fancy I-cost-400-dollars Apparel shirts and seemed to have been born with the ridiculously coiffed, floppy Hugh Grant hair-cut. But he was also short, compactly built with a bright, easy, carefree smile and the most gorgeous blue eyes Erik had ever seen. Ergo he was the perfect embodiment of Erik’s type, down to being most likely straight if the blonde bombshell sitting on his lap ever so often was any indication.

Blue-eyes was at the café every time Erik went, always surrounded by a group of equally posh friends and colleagues – one of them a blue-furred beast of a man, they at least were trying to appear mutant-inclusive - which meant he had to work at one of the offices close-by. It also meant that Erik never would be able to actively make contact, even if he wanted to.

What was he supposed to do? Go over to their table and tell Blue-eyes “hey, I’m here, I’m queer and I would love to have sex with you at some point. Just keep your mouth shut because you’re probably some classist, homophobic asshole and I really don’t need to hear your opinions on society or your metrosexual bi-curiosity”? In a club, after a few Martinis he would; hell he’d even try something if the guy was alone just once, but sober at 12:30, with Blue-eyes surrounded by his friends in a café Erik already stood out in, even he did not feel confident enough.

Then one day, Erik was happily savouring his lentil soup, Blue-eyes came in with only one other guy in tow and sat down at the table directly next to Erik’s. He tried his best not to flush or stare too much but it was hard. The other man was ridiculously hot too. Older, with greying sideburns and crow’s feet around his brilliantly blue eyes but just as attractive. They were talking amicably and clearly were close which led Erik’s mind to wander. The way they kept touching each other… what if they touched each other while they were naked? He had carefully constructed his fantasy version of naked Blue-eyes: all personal trainer and Bikram yoga (or whatever it was rich people did to stay fit) honed muscles under creamy, freckled and hairless skin. The older guy clearly was a little furrier so Erik added that to his fantasy of them kissing, touching, inviting Erik to join them…

He wouldn’t mind any constellation but the thought of Blue-eyes sandwiched between them was a particular turn on. In that moment Blue-eyes coughed and almost spluttered his soup over his side of the table.

“Charles? Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes I’m okay, Dad.”

What? Dad? There was no way that this guy was Blue-eyes’ (Charles’?) dad. He would have had to have been twelve when he fathered him. Unless… they were really gay and into daddy-son stuff. Not Erik’s thing, not at all, but if they kept it between themselves and didn’t give Erik any creepy nicknames he could deal with it. Just as his mind started drifting back to the kinky day-dreaming, Charles shot the other guy a distressed look and a few seconds later the “dad” laughed. Then he turned to Erik directly with a big smile on his face.

Shit!

“Hello. My name is Brian Xavier, it’s nice to meet you.”

Charles was making some embarrassed sounding no-no noises but Brian Xavier continued:

“It’s very flattering of you to assume I’m too young to be Charles’ father, but I can guarantee you, I am. We’re all little baby-faced, it seems to run in the family I’m afraid. As for your fantasies, you couldn’t have known that, but my son is a telepath and while I have it on good source that he enjoys being the centre of a handsome young man’s attention very much, I can see why the thoughts of him and me together are a little disconcerting.”

Erik felt all the blood rushing down from his face to somewhere in the area of his stomach. A telepath…

“I do, however, also know that he keeps talking about a brilliant, exciting mind that he encounters at lunch ever so often. The way he described it, it belongs to an angry young man who prefers to be left alone and rather not have anything to do with our kind - posh people apparently. But Charles would still very much like to make his acquaintance one day. He’s just too anxious to admit that he was naughty and skimmed your thoughts, so he won’t do anything. I, however, in my life as a lowly empath, have learned that a direct approach is the best way to go; and since I can sense the air tingling with frustration and tension that begs to be resolved, I will move over there in the corner.”

Brian Xavier stood up and pointed at his emptied seat.

“Take it and have lunch with him. Have coffee too, it’s on me.”

With that he took the rolled up newspaper lying on the table and walked in the other corner of the café. Erik only realised how much he had blushed and how open his mouth was hanging when he saw his expression mirrored in Charles’ mortified, bright pink face.

Chapter Text

„… and it will lead to this amazing next step in evolution. Proper communication between the species for example. Including humans. Imagine the advantages for our kind if we all could learn from them. In a few decades time we could have our own agrarian revolution. Fields of woodlice. No hunting in dark forests anymore. No, instead there will be fields of food in front of our lairs, always close by! Or the other day I saw a human on a horse; how grand would it be to ride on another animal!…”

Yeah, how grand indeed. Logan zoned out the steady stream of talking that for some reason was inside his head, and shoved more leaves out of his way with his strong, clawed forelegs. It wasn’t as if he felt the weight of the small toad clinging tightly to his back - not at all, he was half the size of him - but to him it looked like someone comfortably rode another animal already. And while he quickly caught a few ants with licks of his tongue for lunch, he wondered again how his tiny little backpack exactly had beaten the other toads courting and trying to grasp Logan.

“It’s all in the croak, love. And some telepathic enhancement of my voice. But don’t worry, our tadpoles are going to be the most magnificent toads. Your absolutely beautiful healing abilities and my mind-reading combined will make a wonderful generation of bufonidae. They might even be the first steps into a new, bright and enlightened future. For all living beings I hope.”

The only future Logan looked forward to was to reach that dark waterhole he climbed out of as a young toad as soon as possible. There he could get rid of the eggs he’d felt growing inside of him and then, afterwards, build himself a cozy den where he could eat slugs and caterpillars in peace and silence. No mating urges, no courting, and no squawking in his head anymore. He determinedly quickened his steps over the soft moist forest soil and finally (not soon enough) he reached the bank of the pond.

“Oh this is a beautiful place! Very idyllic I have to say. And there is an armlet too for enough oxygen in the water, excellent, truly excellent.”

It was a pond, nothing more than a dark, mossy pond. Logan lifted his head and started to look for a good place, with lots, but not too much cane for the tadpoles to be safe. And for him and his temporary mate to be safe as well. While the last heron trying to eat Logan had very quickly regretted its decision, the magic of his skin couldn’t be extended to Charles and despite all the constant know-all talk, Logan would very much mourn losing him now, this close to finally breeding.

“Don’t fear, this is a very safe area with not too many predators to begin with. Plus I have cloaked us. We’re invisible to everyone else around. Any place you pick will be safe for us as long as we stay together.”

Charles squeezed him even tighter and Logan tried to give him a skeptical look over his shoulder but then proceeded to a nice little bay with leaves and water plants in it.

This was the part he actually liked about the whole tiresome procedure. Gliding into the water, swimming for a few strokes before he held on to a reed and started to relax into it. Below the surface the pressure where Charles’ front legs clang to him felt nice, reassuring, as did the smooth, soft belly against his warty back and the long toes rubbing his sides above his hind legs. He could feel the tension that had built in his stomach the past few days loosen egg by egg, and, most importantly, the annoying blabber in his head was replaced by a nonverbal buzz. A jubilant, pleasurable one, which admittedly he liked sharing with his mate. Logan couldn’t tell how long it took exactly, drifting on this high spring-sunshine high. But after they’d come up for air a few times and all the leaves around them stuck together with their spawn, everything felt complete. Charles apparently thought so too when he unclasped from his back and swam back to the shore where he waited for a drowsy Logan. He was hungry. He could eat 15 earthworms in one sitting at least.

“There seemed to be some great earthworm grounds on the southern side of the pond. I saw them when we rode here.”

When he rode here, he meant. But it still was nice that he’d pointed it out and Logan really needed sustenance before he walked back into the forest.

“Actually, I was wondering if you might want to stay here with me at the pond.”

“Huh?”

“Even if it’s relatively save around, our tadpoles will meet many dangers in the water and on land. I’m going to stay here and protect them as well as I can. I meant it when I said that I believe they will bring a great future upon us. And when they’re ready, someone has to guide them. With your strength and durability you would be a great help.”

Logan huffed but then he glanced back at the black pearly strings in the water. His initial plan had been to leave them here on their own like he had with his previous spawns but if there really was any truth in his maybe-not-so-temporary mate’s words…

“Earthworms first. Then I’ll think about it.”

“Excellent!”

And with that Charles hopped to the pondside, licked up some ants and took position under a dwarf birch’s root to watch over what would become their babies.

Chapter Text

After Logan had secured the perimeter, he stomped back to the fireplace.

In the two years at Munroe’s Wilderness Tours, he had learned never to underestimate the curiosity of clueless tourists, therefore, he now checked for ridges, wild animals, beehives etc. twice before he settled down for the night. Even if this group was more capable than others.

Their leader actually had some idea what he was talking about, in a bookish and scientific way of course, he was a professor at some posh university after all, but Logan had found himself nodding along to his excited ramblings about the black-footed ferret (or mustela nigripes, as he had called it) which’s droppings they had found on their tour. He could follow him easily, except for a few distracted moments when he stared at that very red mouth, that kept talking, moving, getting licked by a devious pink little tongue…

The professor was at the fireplace when Logan returned; he sat on a log together with the blue boy with the tail and the one with the red glasses. The first was a cute kid, asked many inspired questions and blushed purple when Logan had grunted supportively. The one with the glasses, on the other hand, was just an asshole.

They barely looked up from their notes when Logan passed them on his way to the brook next to their camp, where he picked up a bucket. He’d protested before, but Ororo had insisted he washed regularly on the tours. (“I don’t care if the musk masks you, Logan, you’re dealing with PEOPLE here, my customers, and I won’t submit them to this stench.”)

Lady had no idea about wildlife, obviously. But as long as he followed some ground rules, she stayed off his back, so a bucket a day it was. Logan still grumbled as he pulled off his shirt with one arm. Then he poured the water over his head; it was cold as it splashed down his heated body. Not too bad, there really was a bit of grime on his tight abs and broad shoulders, so he soaped them up and washed the dirt away with another bucket. This one was actually nice; he enjoyed the splash and flexed his muscles into the refreshing feeling. Ah well.

He flipped his hair to let the drops fly out, ready to dry again when he turned around. The low murmur between the three figures at the fireplace had died down. Three pairs of greedy eyes were focussed on him. One covered with red glasses, one intensively blue, and one yellow, like those of a tiger.

Except, Logan had met tigers, he had fought them too, hell, he’d met many predators much more dangerous than tigers. Yet, all of a sudden, like never in his life before, he felt like prey.

Chapter Text

Emma raised her finger:“No bikers, no walkers, no people “running” with strollers; just joggers. And no old people.”

“But old people can be hot too!”

“No one’s arguing that, but this is not what this exercise is about. Pure superficiality, remember? We’re training your gaze for hot people, hot bodies who will fuck the misery out of you, ok?”

“Ok,” Erik smirked in his melting gelato as Emma sat up straight as if she really was a judge at a beauty contest and not on a bench by the river on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

“Everything that jiggles in the right places gets points. Everything that jiggles in the wrong places loses points. Elegance and rhythm are very important. Faces – not so much. Are you with me, sugar?”

“Yes, mam!”

This felt very much like high school Queen Bee bitchery, but then, Erik had been married a month out of high school. Now that he was a sad sad divorcee at the ripe old age of 29, could he really be blamed for some childish fun? Childish fun that took his mind off his job and duties at least for half an hour?

A tall, lean man came running their way while Erik tried to control the amount of gelato that ended up on his fingers.

“8?”

“Pffff, a 5, if we’re being generous!” Emma hissed as the man ran by.

“What ‘s wrong with him?”

“Moved like a duck, not enough meat on his bones. You’re skinny enough on your own already, we’re gonna find you someone with more muscles!”

“Like her? She’s attractive.” He spoke quietly but was glad that the short woman in pink had her earphones in.

“A nice physical mutation doesn’t automatically make someone hot, Erik. Think like the media: be as shallow as you can! You don’t want someone to re-marry, you want someone generically hot; Repeat after me: You don’t want to talk to them, you want to fuck them and let their inflated ego boost your own. You don’t want a substantive meal, you want a sweet treat that makes your day better and doesn’t last longer than this ice-cream.” She licked her cone in a way that drew all male eyes around them at it, “And where do they flock? Here. The most public and judgy place they can think of. They don’t put on these outfits for sportive reasons, you don’t leave the house to go for a run with hair like this - I know, because I’ve been there! This is a catwalk of narcissism, a buffet of hot sweaty meat, and were here to pick from it.”

“Okay okay, I will do it, but stop the food analogies, please.”

“Just trying to help.”

Erik knew that and he smiled before he subtly (kind of) pointed at a tall, fit man with red sunglasses:

“He’s an 8 though?”

“Yesss, that’s what I’m talking about! Helloooo sweet stuff!”

The last bit she combined with the most suggestive come-to-bed-eyes, aimed directly at the boy, who blushed a little but wasn’t deterred at all, and jogged on with an even more impressively puffed out chest.

Emma was right and the game started to become fun. They weren’t mean, not really, not by their standards, okay, they were a little mean, but it felt so good to just openly stare look at people and to not give them more thoughts than “hot or not” for a while. Most fit the first category if one asked Erik, beautifully shaped legs, naked sweaty skin and flowing hair, some obviously mutant hair too.

Emma stayed more critical which Erik could just not understand why. Until her mouth formed a small O and she said:

“Ok, he falls under the joggers.”

Erik first felt the metal frame that quickly approached. A cleverly crafted alloy that moved its owner at a fast pace. What a superbly built piece of technology! Then Erik turned his head and his eyes fell on the man in the race wheelchair.

Pale, dark hair, with freckles over his exposed shoulders that drove the wheels with an elegant, controlled force. What a superbly built piece of genetics! And the eyes… the most beautiful, blue eyes Erik had ever seen, steadily concentrated on the man’s path before him.

Erik always had assumed that it was a movie cliché, a device to show how attractive the actor actually was, but every time he’d tell the story later on, he’d swear that time had slowed down and that the next few moments happened in slow motion.

The muscles of the man’s arms worked hard, sweat dripped down his cheek, one exquisitely eyebrow raised slightly, as if to challenge the world he was racing in. Suddenly the glorious man turned his face and looked at him. The blue eyes focussed on him, Erik felt like he was choking and his heart jumped in his chest. It was like they’d pierced right through him. A smile bloomed on the man’s red, oh so very red lips and Erik made a weird sound low in his throat.

Then the bastard winked. A cheeky flash of a wink and Erik was lost. It all took less than five seconds but Erik still stared with wide eyes when the man already was long gone down the promenade.

“A ten. He’s a ten.” Erik said with a wobbly voice, not even noticing Emma’s puckish grin.

“Yep, that he is.”