Archive of Our Own ^beta

“This is the letter you intend to send your betrothed?” Emma arched an elegant eyebrow.

“It is.”

Already, from her tone and visage, Erik well knew what was coming.

“Romantic.” She let the letter fall from her gloved fingers into his, the gesture somehow dripping with just as much sarcasm as her voice. “I am sure Xavier will scarcely be able to contain his pleasure at reading such a missive. Have they all been equally as effusive?”

“I am keeping him... informed.”

“Informed?” Emma’s laughter held, as it usually did, just a hint of mockery. Lesser men and women became immediately flustered by it, but Erik had the benefit of an entire lifetime to have become accustomed to his sister’s character. He rather liked to think he gave as good as he got.

“Yes, informed. One does tend to keep one’s business partners informed of the particulars of their dealings.”

“Good lord, Erik. That is tiresome, even for you.”

“And your match with Sebastian, a love match, was it?”

Her eyes glittered with a sort of ruthless pride as she reflected upon how to respond. “No, it was entirely mercenary. Of course, this you already know. However, it hardly meant our correspondence needed to be as dull as a church sermon before we wed. You are aware you are marrying him as a part of this deal, not simply purchasing his land.”

“Had that been an option, I would have gladly taken it, dear sister. It was the Xavier’s who insisted upon including marriage as a part of the bargain. I haven’t the time nor inclination to woo simpering suitors who, like the Xavier’s, are after nothing other than our fortune. This dealing is, at least, honest. The pretence of affection is not needed.”

“My point stands. While neither you, nor Xavier, needed to do any ‘wooing’ to bring this match into being, you will be stuck with each other til death do you part. Certainly, you could be...” she grasped for the right word, “...amiable.”

This time it was Erik’s turn to laugh and give her a pointed look. Of all the words used to describe either of them, he was quite sure amiable had never been one of them.

“You well know our factories, are my life. Having a husband or wife who desires that I dote upon them is to set themselves up for a life of disappointed expectation. The Xaviers are impoverished gentry in need of money to maintain their estate. We are capitalists in need of gentry who are willing to part with a portion of their precious estates to expand our business into England. While I had never intended nor seen the benefit to marrying, the Xaviers’ connections will afford us further opportunities to expand. Xavier will see to his estate, I will see to our business, we shall see to each other when those interests intersect. To this we have agreed.”

The more he had spoken, the more Emma’s countenance had shifted from one of sisterly exasperation with her tiresome brother to something else. She rested her hand against his forearm. “We are no longer poor, brother.” The rare seriousness of her tone put him more on edge than her mockery had ever done.

“Of this I am aware, sister.”

“Are you?” She squeezed his arm in an even rarer gesture of affection. “What you have accomplished in the wake of Papa’s death is nothing short of extraordinary. You took Lehnsherr Steel from humble roots to what it is now. We shall never want for anything again. What is the point of all this wealth, this security, if you never enjoy the opportunities it now affords us? Shall you work yourself until your soul is as hard and unbendable as the steel we forge? Is that the life you have worked so hard for?”

*

At the time, Erik had dismissed Emma’s surprisingly poetic words. He did, indeed, work himself to exhaustion more often than not, but it was not simply a fear slipping back into relative poverty which drove him, it was passion. He was not only an owner and businessman, no , metal sang to him in a way little else in this life did. If their father had not, due to a strange twist of fate, inherited the smithing business that had employed him, Erik would have happily finished his apprenticeship and become a blacksmith himself. These days time to craft rarely presented itself, so he made the time now and then, much to the shock of any newer employee who was not aware of his skill.

He and his sister had also reacted to their new found fortune in distinctly different ways. While Erik strived to do everything in his power to not only maintain Lehnsherr Steel, but drive it to further heights, Emma had indulged in the pleasures that had not been available to her before. Not excessively so, she was nothing if not as pragmatic as he, but while Erik poured over paper and figures, Emma dined, made connections, and attended balls. He did not begrudge her this. Emma’s stunning beauty hid a cleverness and shrewdness that most men did not assign the fairer sex. It was she who made them not only acceptable, but sought after, by gentry and nobility alike. Their humble beginnings could have closed many doors to them and to Lehnsherr Steel, but her quick assimilation to their ridiculous customs, manners and ways of speaking, as well as her ability to teach them to a begrudging Erik, had done as much for their success as Erik’s business acumen and drive.

That being said, it was nevertheless hardly a shock that Emma might suggest spending a little less time working and a little more time enjoying the fruits of it. What she did not take into account was how tiresome he found society. Dukes and Duchesses, landowners, Lords and Ladies, all with one thing in common— they had not earned one whit of what they had. Moreover, the freedom the happenstance of birth had afforded them, they largely squandered on trivialities and frivolities. There was hardly one ounce of sense or intelligence amongst them.

These were the thoughts with which Erik began his long journey from Dusseldorf to England— to meet his fiancé, but to more importantly scout the land which would now be his.

However, the longer he sat in the carriage with little else to do but think, the more Emma’s words wormed their way into his mind and the less he found himself holding fast to his initial thoughts. Yes, Lehnsherr Steel was his future security, his passion, but it was not his only passion. Was Lehnsherr Steel not in such good standing that he could now comfortably expand to England? Did he not trust German operations to Azazel and Emma to the extent that he was comfortable leaving them for the weeks and months at a time he would need to set up the expansion? If this were the case could he not take a little more time for himself?

Erik caught sight of the pen he had been twirling mindlessly in his hand. An exquisite piece he had himself crafted and one of his favourites. He took great pride in the spiralling greenery that adorned the simple instrument, adept as he was at detail work in various metals. As he held it, he realized he had forged it well over a year ago and that it was the last such piece he had created. Too long. Much too long since he had bent metal to his will, pushed it to see what it would do for him, what shapes and patterns of increasing intricacy he could create.

As he thought on the passion that had crafted the pen, another passion came to the forefront of his mind which he had not given himself leave to indulge in for some time either. He was not, as Emma liked to tease, a eunuch. Nothing could be further from the truth. He was simply not content to attend the brothels. Whether high or low class they were truly all the same— dead eyed men and women trying to please him only because they would, in the end, get paid. ‘Trying’ being the operative word. In such encounters, there was no passion, no mutual desire, no need— he found them little more satisfying than his own hand and his own hand was a great deal less expensive. To have mutual desire and need necessitated an encounter one could not simply walk up and pay for any time one pleased. It necessitated attraction, want of pleasure without attachment, and such encounters were a good deal more challenging to come by. He could grant Emma only one thing, he certainly did not look for the possibility of such encounters as often as he could. It was very likely many passed him by as preoccupied as he was with his factories.

This trip however... While he would be primarily engaged in meeting his fiancé and setting in motion the plans for his new factory, he would have time enough for other pursuits. Both of these endeavours would involve more social engagements than he would ever desire to attend as he forged the connections necessary to make it all happen. If he cast these occasions in a different light and thought upon them as opportunities not only for his business but for other... transactions as well... perhaps he could begin to enjoy his life in a manner which his sister would approve.

There, it had been decided upon, and once Erik Lehnsherr had made a decision it was rare that he should choose to change it. He was a man of very single minded focus and drive, and it was these qualities of character that had made him so successful. When he set his mind to something it would be done, and the opportunity to set this plan in motion, he thought, would present itself rather immediately.

The Xaviers were to hold a ball the day after he arrived. Such an event would have in attendance many men and women who might be looking for the sort of rendezvous in which Erik wished to partake. Balls were nothing if not events of indulgence. The larger the ball, the greater the chance of the sort of anonymous encounter Erik desired. Being a foreigner and visitor to England, anonymity would not be difficult to achieve. The chances that he would encounter an acquaintance were extraordinarily low. Excepting, of course, for his fiancé. They knew each other by name and correspondence alone, but would be introduced upon his arrival. This could make Erik’s plan more challenging to execute, but not impossible, and Erik did enjoy a challenge as it made the reward all the sweeter.

“Erik, sugar , is that not cold, even for someone as heartless as you?”

Emma’s mocking voice came to him, unbidden.  She addressed him as ‘sugar’ only because it amused her to call him sweet, when she very much thought of him as the opposite. To seek the companionship of another on the very same day he was to meet his betrothed? Erik cared little about appearances, little about what others thought of him, much to his sister’s annoyance given the amount of time she spent elevating their name and reputation in society.

“And your fiancé?”

The thought troubled him for the barest moment. The marriage contract had been agreed upon and signed, dalliances would not breach it should Xavier take issue and be more concerned about appearances than he. Erik hardly thought this would be the case given the entirely business nature of their betrothal. Furthermore, he would be discrete and hoped Xavier would be seeking his own pleasures. If he was anything like most of the gentry of Erik’s acquaintance, he would be and Erik had little to worry about. Besides, despite corresponding regularly, as Emma had directed him was proper, Mr. Charles F. Xavier had deigned to reply only twice. Some might have been dismayed at this rudeness, Erik was instead pleased that Xavier had his own pursuits and as little interest in their engagement as he. It gave him hope that their arrangement would suit them both.

*

Arriving in England had been a frustrating affair. His crossing of the channel had been delayed by a day on account of the weather, a not uncommon occurrence, but irritating at the end of an already long journey. He had barely time enough to set himself up in the moderately sized, but well appointed, cottage he had let near the Xavier estate, let alone make the ball in a timely manner. He was late, quite late, and the event would be well in progress when he arrived. Erik had no idea if arriving at such a time would be considered rude and did not have his sister on hand to consult about society’s arbitrary and unspoken rules. He considered skipping it altogether and calling on the Xavier’s the next afternoon for tea, but then his greater plan for attending the ball would be lost to him. It would now be even more challenging to execute, with less time available to him, but he was not one to give up easily, so attend the ball he would.

However, Erik did decide to make an unusual and unobtrusive entrance. A quick inquiry of his carriage driver confirmed that he could bypass the main entryway, grotesquely ostentatious in Erik’s opinion, and access the house through a secondary entrance where all the carriage drivers had been told to wait until the ball’s end. In appearance, Erik cared for this entrance much more, it was elegant without being obnoxious and he thought it a pity that this was not the main way into Westchester, the name of the home and estate. In not being immediately announced, Erik would have the opportunity to observe his new family before approaching them and felt this would be a worthwhile and educational endeavour. This assumed he chose to approach them at all, as his mind was more focused on other pursuits.

Though coming into a softly lit and entirely empty hallway, Erik could immediately hear the gay sounds of the ball— music expertly played, the sound of people talking and laughing, feet dancing in time across a parquet floor. It would be easy enough to find a way to slip in unnoticed. Erik was about to do just that when movement in his periphery caught his attention. At first, he thought it must be one of the household staff — who else would be skulking about in a shadowed hallway — but as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, it became very clear that this was not the case.

The man before him had not noticed him, giving Erik time to realize his clothes were entirely too fine to be a servant of any kind. Those clothes, however, were also being worn in a way that was far from proper. The man was not only missing his coat, which in itself was improper, but he had also exposed his neck— collar wide open and cravat nowhere to be seen. Scandalous and even gossip worthy if he were to be seen by anyone other than Erik. He was unsure what to make of this but it intrigued him enough to remain hidden in the shadows and observe further. The man was younger than he, of that much he was certain, but thankfully not so young as to be dismissed for what Erik was seeking. The impropriety of his attire was itself enough to impart hope that their intentions for the evening might align. The handsomeness of his features was enough for Erik to shift from hope to desire. His hair was just long enough to easily grasp in the throes of passion, his lips were full and immensely kissable, the clothing he was wearing hugged sturdy thighs which Erik would take great pleasure in being gripped by, his throat was elegant and exposed but his eyes... oh.

He thought it should not be possible to discern in so dark a place, but they were blue, impossibly blue. Beautiful and enchanting, and Erik thought they might also be extremely expressive in the act— betraying each feeling. Responsiveness was something he valued in a partner, as he would not continue should his partner not be as invested as he. Best of all, there was very little chance that this was Charles Xavier. There was no way the host of the ball would be so rude as to be avoiding the proceedings in a back hallway instead of ensuring the enjoyment of his guests. Staring from the shadows would get Erik nowhere, however, so there was only one thing left to do with this blue eyed stranger. He needed to see if he was as immediately attracted and interested as Erik, so he stepped out of the shadows enough to be seen and cleared his throat.

“I beg your pardon.”

The man was not startled, but surprise registered on his face as turned toward Erik, who made absolutely no move to hide his intentions. He was sure they were apparent in his eyes if this man was intelligent and observant enough to notice. Instead of immediately responding, the man did what he had done only moments ago, and took the measure of Erik. Perhaps he too was wondering what another man was doing in this back hallway, instead of engaged in the ball. When their eyes met, Erik was almost sure what he saw there was a desire that was starting to answer his own. It was almost as if he had willed this stranger into existence, a gift from fate.

Erik asked, “May I have this dance, sir?”

The man’s first way of answering was a small smile that made an already handsome face even more so. “You can,” he then said, and extended his hand. Even these two syllables affirmed that he belonged at this ball. He had a posh English accent— cultured, proper and perfectly enunciated. Oh, Erik would take such enjoyment in unravelling such a voice.

Erik took the proffered hand in his and gripped the man’s waist with the other, immediately deciding to take the lead. As the man was wearing neither a waistcoat nor jacket, the thin material of his shirt afforded little cover. Erik could already feel the man’s body, the delicious heat of his skin. The man’s hand settled on his shoulder and Erik took the opportunity to look even more closely at his face. It did not disappoint. In an instant, several fantasies of what such a mouth could do slid through his mind and his grip involuntarily tightened.

The man swayed closer, as if Erik’s gaze held a magnetic attraction. It caused his breath to graze Erik’s throat, raising goose flesh and he could not help but shiver in response. Already, this was so promising that Erik was not sure he hadn’t accidentally fallen asleep at the cottage and was not dreaming of this handsome man in his arms. Taking a moment to feel the beat of the music, Erik began to lead them in a dance, suddenly grateful that Emma had insisted he learn more dances than he had ever cared to know. His partner followed easily, responding to Erik’s cues with skill. If their bodies already moved so easily together, all the more promising, all the more unreal.

With each step they drifted closer, until the stranger’s cheek brushed his. He made no move to retreat from the contact and instead Erik found words whispered into his ear. “It is I who should beg your pardon, sir. So wantonly accepting your invitation to dance without so much as an introduction.”

Immediately, Erik thought he could see this statement for what it was, both flirtation and test. One, which if he was right, that Erik felt he could easily pass.

“No introductions,” he answered the unspoken request and, as the man in his arms pulled back enough that they could look upon each other, Erik could tell he was pleased.

“Then you must provide me a name with which to address you, but it shan’t be your given name. Tonight is mine alone, and I will not bear any witnesses, not even you.”

This was a request to which Erik was more than amenable. “You may call me Max.” He gave his middle name, as it felt as much his own as Erik. “Now, pray, you must enlighten me as to why the most handsome man at the ball is hiding away in an unlit hallway without so much as a formal jacket or a partner.”

That handsome face disappeared again as they pressed closer once more. Erik, however, could not lament the loss now that their torsos were touching, though he wished his state of undress matched his partner’s. Entirely too many layers were still between them. So distracted was he by this new development that Erik nearly forgot that he was waiting for a response.

“I had no designs to dance tonight.”

On that much they agreed so how curious they should end moving across the hallway in time to the muted music. The dancing, however, lasted only seconds longer as the man took advantage of their closeness and licked Erik’s ear lobe. Erik inhaled sharply, their movements coming to a halt. The slow burn of arousal he had been experiencing since he had laid eyes on this beautiful stranger spiked at the feeling of the man’s tongue against sensitive skin. When Erik spoke again his tone was no longer teasing. “What is it that you wish to do without any witnesses?”

The stranger’s answer was nonverbal. He pressed closer, thigh to thigh, and his hand tried to push past Erik’s ridiculous layers of fabric to get at skin. Though not entirely successful, Erik appreciated the effort, desiring nothing more than such contact. Unperturbed by his failure, the man grabbed instead at Erik’s head and pulled him roughly down for a kiss.

It was a twin shock.

The act itself was bold, their encounter moving along much more quickly than Erik would have thought possible. Not that this was a complaint— the man’s eagerness was itself arousing. The second shock was the man’s skill, or lack there of. It in no way matched the confidence he had thus far displayed. It was perhaps the clumsiest kiss Erik had ever been privy to. Entirely too much teeth, stopping to breathe at all the wrong moments, tongue awkwardly placed and it could only mean one of two things. Either this man was a terrible kisser or he was inexperienced to the point that he may be... Erik pulled back and sucked in an unsteady breath. If he was... Mein Gott .

He gripped the man’s hair and made the stranger look him in the eye. He needed to know. “Tell me what it is you want. Tell me exactly what you want.”

The look that flashed through the man’s eyes was both fierce and nervous, and also helped to confirm Erik’s earlier suspicion— they were very expressive.

“Is it not obvious?” He lifted his chin. “Sex. Here. Now. With you.” The defiance in the gesture and clipped words deepened Erik’s suspicions. It was almost as though he were daring Erik to call him out, to contradict him. He had no doubt the man wanted this, but here, now, in this way... why ? Would he truly be able to follow where his feverish designs on Erik wished to go? This time it was Erik who pushed.

“Take off your shirt.”

Erik expected at least a moment’s hesitation, if he was as inexperienced as Erik suspected, but was shocked, for the third time, when there was none. Hands made such swift work of buttons and fabric as to amaze Erik, whose gaze was held by the quick movements. When the garment fell to the floor, he was left speechless. This was the gift that kept giving. Before him was truly the most beauteous man he had ever beheld. He could not stop looking at the expanse of pale skin, unblemished except for a smattering of freckles that stole his breath from him. He both wanted to continue staring, to drink in and memorize every detail, and to begin marking it immediately with teeth and tongue. Though this man kept startling him at every turn, his own reactions were no less confounding. Had he ever wanted so much so quickly? When his eyes slipped past the band of his trousers to the prominent bulge which misshaped them, it was all Erik could do not to fall to his knees and press his face to it. For a man who prided himself on control he was losing it with alarming swiftness— wanting, needing, with a greediness he had not before experienced.

He shoved the man back against the wall and did the only thing he could think to do to regain his own footing, his own standing— he kissed him roughly, possessively, taking and taking and taking until they both needed air. The initial, clumsy kiss was entirely erased as the man surrendered, allowing his mouth to be taken, learning as it was plundered. A dizzying and dangerous thought skirted through Erik’s mind, These are lips I could kiss forever.

Hands tangled themselves in Erik’s hair, gripping entirely too roughly, but Erik had always gloried in the precipice between pleasure and pain. A thigh had curled around his own, and the stranger’s hardness began to rut against his leg with frantic desperation. How was this gentleman so unrestrained? So free with his passion?

Erik needed more.

He pulled himself away, scarcely knowing how he accomplished it, but he needed to rid himself of the prison his clothing had become, needed to feel that expanse of pale skin against him.

At first, Erik’s withdrawal hardly seemed to register. When those kiss roughened lips uttered a dazed, “What?” Erik almost wanted to laugh, being able to entirely relate. When cognizance returned to those devastatingly blue eyes, there came an offer, “Allow me.”

Those clever hands made equally quick work of Erik’s own clothes, divesting him of the restrictive layers more quickly than Erik would have thought possible. Their torsos came together before the last article had found the floor. Erik immediately wished to recapture that mouth but knew, if he did so, they may never leave this spot. That may have suited Erik were this any other man, at any other time, but what he wanted was the opportunity for so much more than a quick fuck.

Bypassing his mouth, Erik brushed his lips against the man’s ear, and said, “I want you in bed.”

“I don’t care to wait that long.”

The reply was breathless and did nothing to dampen Erik’s need. Tempting as it was... he needed to know.

“You deserve a bed for your first time.”

The reaction imparted such clarity that Erik did not need words to have his answer. The young man jerked back, embarrassment clear on his features even before he turned away in Erik’s arms. His cheeks flushed, staining pale skin so prettily. Oh what Erik would do to elicit that flush again and again. The embarrassment, however pretty, was unnecessary. To be his first was a privilege that would be Erik’s.  A privilege he did not take lightly and would not take selfishly. He pressed himself against the man’s back, so the full extent of his desire would be known. He wanted this, him , and he should know it.

“I promise I will treat you as you deserve. I will not take you in a hallway for your first time, as much as I would ensure you’d enjoy it.”

The voice that answered him was soft, defeated, having lost all its spirit. “How did you know this time was to be my first?”

Erik needed to right this, to bring the courage and desire back to that voice. He stroked a hand down one arm, interlacing their fingers together, not wanting to look at that need too closely.

“Everyone has a first time. There is no shame in this being yours. Let me make tonight special for you. A house this size has a hundred bedrooms; we won’t be the only ones taking advantage of numerous spare rooms tonight.”

His young, would-be lover, was quiet enough, long enough, for true worry to begin to manifest itself. Perhaps his mind was changing, his surety wavering. Perhaps Erik should have said nothing, but... no. He had needed to know for certain, it was necessary to know how to proceed. Now, in the face of the man’s clear uncertainty he would not push, but he could... persuade.

Erik pressed his mouth, for the first time, against the neck whose exposure had first intrigued him. The urgency of the encounter had waned somewhat on account of the man’s embarrassment, but Erik would not let himself be distressed by this setback. It gave him leave to leisurely explore sensitive skin with lips, teeth and tongue, to revel in knowing the clean taste of him, to pay particular attention to the smattering of freckles across his shoulder. With each kiss, each lick, each nip of teeth, Erik felt tension leave the man’s body by degrees, until the body in question was pliant once more— trembling, straining for renewed contact when Erik withheld it for even a moment. When a moan escaped those pretty lips, Erik was all but certain this man was his once more.

Erik unlaced their fingers and moved his hand to the waistband of his trousers, dipping his fingers just below the barrier. With reluctance, he moved his mouth from the man’s neck to his ear so he could breathe, “May I?” The resultant groan and shudder seemed answer enough and Erik let his hand slip inside, cupping the man’s hardness over flimsy undergarments, massaging, withholding skin to skin contact for when this beautiful man was laid out naked before him, but giving him some much needed friction.

“Tell me your first-time fantasies, nameless man of mine.”

Erik thought fleetingly of asking for a name, any name, but already this gorgeous creature had somehow bewitched him. Any further familiarity brought with it danger of further attachment.

The man laughed. “God. How can I choose? Give me everything. With you.”

Erik’s mouth went dry. Oh how he wished he could bring to bear all his experience in one night. For now, he moved away, picking up their errant clothing from the floor. “Let us find  a bedroom and I will see what I can do to fulfill that wish.”

The man turned to the nearest staircase, leading them hastily up it, and giving Erik his first opportunity to truly gaze upon the backside of him. The continued perfection of the body before him seemed impossible. He drank in the full, perfect curves of his backside. So much to grip, to smack— should they be given the chance to discover if he enjoyed such carnal torments.

When the man reached the top of the stairs he turned to look back at Erik. “Are you enjoying the view?” His good humour, flirtatiousness, had returned, and this was something for which Erik was grateful. Increasingly, one night hardly seemed enough. He banished the thought as quickly as it came.

He answered the question with his own flirtation. “Very much indeed.”

“I am quite enjoying the view myself.” The man nodded to Erik’s chest as he joined him at the top of the stairs. Erik had never thought of his own appearance as being in any way remarkable— too sharp, too angular, but now was hardly the time to say so. Instead, Erik gave in to the sudden urge to cup his face and run a thumb along his clean jawline. The shave was masterful, incredibly close, leaving the skin impossibly smooth to the touch. The man mirrored the movement and Erik knew he found no smoothness there. He’d barely had time to dress, let alone shave, prior to his late arrival. When his fingers brushed Erik’s more distinct moustache, it tickled, and Erik couldn’t help the way his lips quirked into a small smile. This seemed to delight his partner, whose face broke into a smile both much broader than Erik’s own, and much broader than Erik had yet seen.

It startled words out of his mouth that he scarcely believed he had said when recollecting it. “You are breathtaking...” His disbelief did not make the words any less true. The man’s smile was a thing to behold. As was the flush that rose from the compliment. They both made Erik wish to say more things that would elicit either, but one word was all he had.

“Breathtaking.”

“No... I am not—“ Erik halted the protests by pressing his fingers to the man’s mouth. “You are.” He would not hear such nonsense.  When he was sure no further protests were forthcoming, he removed his fingers so that he could grasp the man’s hand and lead him to one of the hall doors. He skipped the first few, leading them deeper into the house, and turned the knob of the third down on the left. Luckily, it was a bedroom— empty, slightly cold with no fire lit, but that would hardly matter in time. He heard the lock slide into place behind them, but the man made no move from the door. Instead, he was looking at the bed with widened eyes, not fear, but realization, perhaps, of what he was truly about to undertake.

“With one word, this stops. I take your leave and you will never see me again.”

That statement seemed to produce more alarm in him than the lavish bed, and he looked away from it and back to Erik, resolution replacing alarm. Those eyes spilled every secret, excepting why a man as beautiful and amiable as he was seeking a rendezvous in a dark hallway. Erik, however, was not going to question this blessing, so he took him back into his arms and kissed him.

This kiss was different still than the first or second, neither clumsy nor possessive. Instead, as he steadily walked the man back toward the bed, he took his time. He allowed the man to give, to respond, and what a quick study he was, his lips moving with Erik’s in greater harmony. His arousal, which had never truly waned, was renewed with each brush of their mouths. They had done hardly more than kiss and the strength of his desire was unequal to it. It was far more than was warranted for what was the most innocent of carnal actions. When they could move no farther, Erik wanted nothing more than to push the man down, than to fuck him senseless, than to seek release in his gorgeous willingness. He had little doubt that this man would allow it, would give in so sweetly, so completely, to whatever Erik asked of him...

It was a reckless and naive trust. One that could so easily be abused.

What if another had happened upon him? Had taken him roughly in the hallway as the man had foolishly desired? Had cared not about his inexperience, only his willingness? What if he’d had to endure? How bruised would those blue eyes have looked in the end? Something in Erik clenched at these thoughts.

He was not that sort of man.

So, Erik tempered his own desires, pulling back instead of pushing down. Erik began to rid the man of his trousers, finally revealing all of him to Erik’s sight. As he took in his cock, hard and cresting towards his belly, he could still find no fault in him. Erik would not ask for anything, not yet. He would take that cock into his mouth and do what he could to make the man shatter in a way Erik hoped he never had before. First, though, he palmed him and learned the feel and weight of his cock in his hand.

“Perfekt,” he murmured, unaware if he was speaking more to himself or his companion. That companion seemed to tremble at these words and Erik’s caresses, redness arising in his features once more, but he did not protest the words of admiration this time. Erik pressed their mouths together again, swallowing the moans he elicited as he stroked once, twice and again.

Next, came a whimpered, “Please. God, Max. Please stop. I can’t— I’m— I’m going to come.” The hitched breaths stole his perfect speech, just as Erik had desired. He squeezed at the base, hopefully forestalling such an event until Erik could take him in his mouth. He laid the man out against the darkly coloured coverlet and sank down overtop him. Feeling their bodies pressed together, Erik immediately regretted that his own trousers were still intact. Especially when, despite the man’s protests of only moments ago, he bucked up beneath him, thrusting against Erik’s thigh— the body’s needs were betraying the mind’s desire to make it last.

Erik lifted his own body enough that his companion had nothing to thrust upon but air without contorting himself. Frustrated whimpers attested to his success. Erik took the man’s wrists in hand and pinned them above his head, squeezing just this side of hard until the squirming stopped and he had the man’s attention.

“I wish to take you in my mouth and know your taste. Will you permit it?”

The man moaned and strained against where Erik held him, gasping, “I will not last. I cannot.”

“You need not.”

Erik bent down and took his mouth soundly one last time, leaving him breathless and shaking, before releasing his wrists and trailing barely there kisses down his torso until he reached his cock. Erik gripped helplessly thrusting hips, locked eyes with those gone so dark they were hardly blue anymore and took as much of his cock as he could into his mouth. This was not the time for play or teasing, for working him and working him until he reached his release. Instead, Erik employed suction and his tongue with eagerness, taking his member deeply into his throat, knowing that completion would be fast arriving.

He was not wrong.

The man released a ragged cry, the name “Max” was there but hardly discernible in it, and he came. His release burst upon Erik’s tongue and down his throat, and combined with the sounds the man made, caused him to thrust upon the mattress a few times in search of friction. He licked at the member until it began to soften, pressed a kiss into one still shaking hip and murmured, “Perfekt. You are perfekt.”

Lost as he was to bliss, Erik was able to make quick work of his remaining clothing before pulling the man to him, curling around his trembling warmth. He ran his hand everywhere he could reach— down an arm, over a hip, across a back until his companion came back to himself. Though his own need was insistent, there was a sweet and simple satisfaction in holding him through the aftermath.  When sense returned and his eyes alighted upon Erik’s still hard cock, they widened just enough for Erik to feel rather pleased.

“You-. I should-.”

There was further pride in knowing the man’s verbal capacity was still limited to very few words. “Shh,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the man’s forehead. “We have time enough. Enjoy this. Just enjoy this.”

A soft smile played about red lips and his eyes slid shut, burrowing his body closer to Erik’s. They fell into silence for a time, but not awkwardly so, as the man savoured the memory and aftershocks of pleasure at the hands of another for the first time. They only moved when Erik felt him shiver for different reasons.

“Let’s get under the sheets.”

They rearranged themselves hastily, neither seeming desirous of being out of contact for long. As they re-settled, the man held back just enough for them to be able to look at each other and said, “Thank you.”

“I pass muster then, do I?” Erik laughed.

The man grinned. “I would say so, but then I suppose I haven’t much to compare it to.”

Erik could only laugh harder. “Cheeky bastard.”

He seemed pleased with that. “What should I do for you?”

Though Erik desired all manner of things, he felt it necessary to choose the simplest. He grasped the man’s hand and guided it to his aching hardness. It was so long neglected that even the slightest touch caused him to hiss.

“Stroke me off.”

The man seemed only too happy to oblige and as his hand began to work Erik, he gave himself leave to give himself over to his own feelings for the first time that evening. He knew that, like his companion, he would not last long. For one, it had been too long. For another, he could not help but call to mind every smile, every gasp, every shudder that he had already been witness to, and he could not help but look into eyes too blue to be real and know his climax would overcome him entirely too soon. The effect this beautiful man had on him... he could not account for him.

His thoughts, his recollections, they all began to splinter as pleasure overtook him. “Faster. Please.” His own vocabulary became sorely reduced. As Erik hit the precipice, his last thought was for how gorgeous this man had been in his own release and he was done. He crushed the man to him and came with an involuntary cry. It was good, god it was good, too ridiculously good. It lasted impossibly long and not long enough. The intensity, from only an inexperienced hand on him... it might have been embarrassing, but the orgasm was too good for him to care. It left him with his own need to bask, to savour, to recover. He laid back, his young man sprawling himself across his chest. Erik traced indecipherable patterns across his back and time stood momentarily still.

“I wish tonight would never end.” The words were barely audible, but Erik heard them and his response surprised him in the same way so much had already. “Must it?”

Had his pleasure addled mind had run away with itself? A brief, one night encounter had been all Erik was seeking, but surely only a fool would pass up the opportunity to introduce this man to the other pleasures two bodies coming together could provide.

The man’s reaction, though, was more than the opposite of his own. It was of an almost violent nature, shocking Erik, as the man shot up onto his elbow, spilling impassioned words. “There is only tonight, Max, only tonight. We must not ever see each other again after tonight! You do not know my name; I do not know yours. It is better this way. It must be this way!”

The strength of the reaction baffled Erik. There was fear in it that Erik could not account for. Even if this man had a wife, or a husband, taking a lover was hardly uncommon. The man  had already proved he was not averse to taking such a risk. Erik flipped him onto his back.

“Why must it? You puzzle me. Why should we walk away from something that has been so exceedingly good? You are... you are exquisite. There are a great many things we could explore together, but time is our enemy. Why limit ourselves to only tonight?”

The man made a strangled sound of frustration. “Of course I desire more than tonight. I want nothing more than to see you again and again and again. To know what more could be between us, but we cannot! The risk of discovery is too much. You must promise me, on your honour, that you will not pursue this. You will not try to see me again!”

What was this?

Erik’s bafflement began to transmute into his own frustration. If the man also wanted this, why should they deny themselves?

“I do not understand. You must tell me why the thought of discovery disturbs you so. Why take even the risk you have taken tonight? You must tell me the truth!”

The stubborn set of the man’s jaw and the tenseness in his body made Erik think he would not get his answer. However, capitulation came across the man’s eyes and tension evaporated into surrender.

“I am being forced into a marriage of convenience. For money, of course. How often are they not about money? I have never even met my fiancé. He is expected this week, this very night even, and once he is here, my life will never be entirely my own again. So, I took this night for myself. God, what must you think of me.”

Erik’s gut tightened.

“You are betrothed?”

The man was clearly embarrassed, clearly felt he was about to be the subject of judgement and disdain, so his head turned away and they could no longer look at one another eye to eye. His words became subdued. Defeated.

“My family has land; his family has money. We would never give up our ancestral rights to the land, so rather than sell the land my fiancé wants for some horrid steel factory, the land is my betrothal price.”

Steel factory.

Erik’s stomach went into free fall.

It could not be.

This could not be Charles Xavier still naked below him. His shock must have loosened his grip because the man (Xavier?) took the opportunity to turn onto his side, facing away from him.

His fiancé. Had he seduced his own fiancé?

No.

The mere thought of it was absurd. The universe, while cruel, did not play such silly games.

Yet this was Xavier’s estate and the particulars of this young man’s betrothal were entirely too specific. There could not be another two men here in exactly the same situation as they. Surely, the universe could not abide that many coincidences under one roof.

Only after his thoughts had swirled madly for some minutes did Xavier’s apparent dismay at their betrothal sink in. He had not spoken of it matter of factly, as Erik had always done, but with agitation.

“You do not wish to marry him, then?”

Xavier laughed as though he must be dense and something twinged in Erik. “Of course I want to marry him! It is simply that I do not want to marry him. Do you not understand the difference?”

“Forgive me for being obtuse, but no, I do not.”

“It’s evolution, Max. I am a natural scientist, or would have been if my fate was not entirely  bound up with my impoverished estate. I will be married and locked away— fated to entertain, endure tedious conversation, hunt helpless animals and play endless games of cards until I lose my faculties and am as brainless as most of society,” Xavier said bitterly. “I understand evolution. I have been bred for one purpose— to carry on the family estate, the family name. This is my evolutionary niche. I have always known I would have to marry to advantage and so do this I must. Perhaps though, if our fortune had not been so thoroughly squandered, I could have had my choice of suitors. Instead of this loathsome steel baron being thrust upon me, I might have had a fighting chance to find love.”

Oh how deeply Erik had miscalculated, misjudged and misunderstood everything .

Somewhere, somehow, Emma knew and was laughing hysterically at his expense. What he had thought was a contract equally desired by both sides... well, nothing could be further from the truth.

This beautiful, bewitching man hated him and everything he represented.

It sat like an ugly coal, burning in his gut.

Love.

This man wanted love.

How foolish he had been to think that this man approached life in as calculated a manner as Erik. To think that he did not have his own wants and desires, dreams and passions. How could he have not realized that to love and be loved may be one of them? The idea that he was crushing the dreams, the passions, of another...

“Could love not grow between you?”

What was he saying?

Was such a thing even something he would wish for himself? To be loved by this man?

It was never love itself with which Erik had taken issue. He had simply... never seen it for himself. As he had mused on his journey to England, he was too occupied with business to invest the necessary time to find and court a suitable spouse, to dote upon them thereafter, and he was too abhorrent of the company of the wealthy and titled to even think there were many amongst them with which he would even be compatible.

However, as he and Xavier were already engaged, one objection fell quickly away. The others... already there were hints that those too could fall away with just as much ease.

The manner of their meeting however...

Xavier had finally turned back to him, eyes so bright. “I could not fathom love growing with such a man! His letters, if only you could see them— the way he carries on about his steel factory and manufacturing! I’ve had more excitement sitting for tea and enduring the dull and inept conversation of my mother acquaintances. I could hardly bear to respond! What could I possibly say to him? Tell him how dear it is to me to complete my studies? To follow in the footsteps of Darwin and others like him? To publish works on the natural world? To attend conferences? To wile away the days with my journal, noting and sketching my observations? How could such a tedious man comprehend my fervent desire to travel to the Galapagos and see the finches for myself?”

Erik was stunned. Because I know passion. I know what it is to feel it so deeply you can do nothing else. Because metal is to me what science is to you. The words were there but would not come forth from his lips.

Instead, feebly, he said, “Perhaps he shall want those things for you. Why should he not?”

Though clearly still upset, the scowl that graced Xavier’s face struck him as adorable. “He will expect me to host dinners and hunting parties for investors and officials as dull and dreary as he is. I am not ignorant of what my connections will afford him.”

That hit so painfully close to the truth that Erik felt like he had been punched. It was a reality that had once seemed a logical part of their contract. Now even the word ‘contract’ was becoming more cold and loathsome by the moment. Erik pulled him in and cupped his face, running a thumb gently across his cheekbone. He needed to banish this pain, he needed to see Xavier smile once more.

“If you think he will not listen then tell me. Tell me of your studies.”

The deluge that followed could have been boring for someone like Erik who really had no interest in science (at least beyond forging alloys), but the passion with which Xavier spoke as he extolled the virtues of On the Origin of Species , the classes he was attending at the university, the trip to the Carribean Islands to discover new species— it was infectious, charming. It made Erik wish to know more and at every turn he attempted to ask as intelligent a question as he could, not used to feeling very much the layman in anyone’s presence. Xavier’s mind challenged him, engaged him, and was his equal in every respect. It was heady and as he listened, as they conversed, as his mind shone brighter... arousal slowly returned, burning until his need became insistent once more.

“I think you have spoken on science enough.”

Xavier whose face had been full of such delight, fell apart so spectacularly that Erik wished he had not tried for a joke. He took Charles’ hand and guided it back to his burgeoning erection. Xavier’s countenance changed again, this time to unbelieving, and uttered, “No, not from...”

“Your mind is brilliant.”

“You...”

The last change in his face, as his voice trailed off, Erik could not so easily discern, and gave up trying when Xavier kissed him with such fervency it no longer seemed to matter. When air became necessary, it was Xavier who spoke first. “Tomorrow is... we still have tonight. I— will you... please, Max, will you fuck me? I need you to. Please, I need you to be my first.”

Mein Gott .

If there were any words in the various languages Erik knew that were likely to make him come on the spot, those were without doubt the closest. He let his hand slide down the plane of Xavier’s back until he reached the place where Xavier desired him. He teased at the man’s hole, never having wanted so badly as this, but knowing he could not. They had nothing to ease it and, knowing what he did? No. Xavier had no idea he was in the arms of his loathsome fiancé. Beyond that, if tomorrow brought a favourable end and he was no longer found so loathsome... he wanted Xavier, wanted Charles, to know who it was sharing his bed, sharing that moment that could only come once. For that moment he wanted to be Erik, not Max.

“I desire nothing more, but you deserve more than dark hallways, and dark rooms with dark strangers. If you ever change your mind, my sweet temptation—“

“Max...” There was warning in his voice.

“Fear not. I will not trespass on your life.” Erik meant it in more ways than Xavier could possibly know. “I will, however, give you a taste of what you’re missing.”

He slipped inside the finger that had never quite stopped teasing.  Xavier gasped at the new and unfamiliar feeling but did not pull away. Instead, after a few shallow thrusts, he thrust back, greedily taking in more of Erik’s finger. “God. You’re so eager. So perfect. Fuck, you’re so perfect.” So he gave just a bit more to his fiancé. Fiancé . It was incredible. Xavier’s cock was quickly filling again, hard where it lay against Erik’s hip, well deserving of attention. This was attention he would readily give, but not yet. Not quite yet.

Erik removed his finger, which was met with immediate, vocal protest. Wholly ignoring it, “On your stomach.” Without hesitation, or further protest, Xavier rolled onto his front, groaning and squirming as he trapped his cock between himself and the mattress. The picture he presented made Erik’s own cock throb and it was all he could do not to go back on his previous assertion and take Xavier as he had requested. Somehow, he stayed true to his plan and put his tongue where his finger had just been.

“Fuck!” Xavier bucked. “You— I did not... my God.”

Erik grinned and prayed to no particular deity that he would hear Xavier utter that first word but often.

“Shall I stop?”

“No!” The exclamation was vehement. “Please, Max. Please.”

He begged so prettily and Erik obliged him, licking at one of his most intimate places, providing pleasure that he was quite sure Xavier had never dreamt of, pleased to be the one to offer it. Every breathy moan, every writhing movement was so uninhibited, as though the man beneath him had not been bred for civility and restraint.

“I need... please, I need...”

“What do you need?”

“More. God, I need more. This is torture. Please, Max.”

Erik lifted himself up until he was level with Xavier’s body. He set himself down so that his cock filled Xavier’s crease and rocked, unsure whom he was torturing more. Into his ear, he breathed, “Not tonight, Schatz. You do not get everything you want. Just a bit tonight.” 

After a few more thrusts of exquisite torture, Erik reared back and flipped Xavier back over, wasting no time in sealing his lips around his cock. Xavier lost control of his hips, nearly choking him, but this was where Erik wanted him, utterly unable to hold himself back. With one hand, he gripped the man’s hip and did his best to suppress his erratic movements, and with the other he eased a finger back inside. Xavier was lost. Flushed, panting, hands twisted into the sheets. Attempting, at the same time, to seek more sensation from both Erik’s hand and mouth, but impossibly trapped between the two. It was the most stunning thing Erik had ever been witness to. The moment Charles came, back bowing impossibly, breath so utterly stolen that he could not cry out, cock pulsing in Erik’s mouth, was seared into his mind forever.

Unforgettable.

It was also all Erik needed. He fisted himself, only a few rough strokes, before he too joined Xavier in bliss.

Recovering first, he pulled Xavier to him, once again deeply gratified by the privilege of watching him shudder through the last aftershocks of pleasure. He stroked his hair back away from his forehead, claiming his mouth. He could never tire of this and hoped he would not have to.

Against his lips, Xavier said, “You are too good to me. How do I repay you?”

Erik could not help but chuckle. “There is no need. Watching you in your pleasure was enough to satisfy my own release.” Xavier looked down for confirmation. His face held the appearance of disappointment and did that not just make him more perfect? He would have further chance in the future, if he wanted it, but this Erik could not say.

He could not break this idyll with the truth. He had not the will for it.

They lay there, the only sound their breathing until the clock struck three, to their mutual surprise. How so much time could have passed he knew not.

“We must go.” Xavier uttered this with clear reluctance. “I wish it were not so, but we must.” As he lifted himself into a sitting position, there was an air of resigned finality to him. “Do not seek me out. Do not attempt to learn my name. Should we see each other again, we have never made each other’s acquaintance. Do you promise me this?”

Erik was beginning to feel he would promise Xavier just about anything and what a frightening notion that was. Strangely, though, it was a promise he could not keep. They would meet again in less than a day.

Still, he said, “On my honour.”

Promise made, neither of them moved. Eventually, Erik sat up as well, catching Xavier’s chin and forcing their eyes to meet.

“Your fiancé is a fool if he does not see your worth, if he does not take the stars from the very sky should you wish it.”

Xavier forcibly jerked his chin out of Erik’s grip. “Do not say such things. You know from what I have said that it will not be so. That he has not one amiable bone in his body. There is no sense in wishing for what will never come to pass.”

Unperturbed, Erik carried on, “You must make me a promise in return. Promise me that whatever you think of him now, you will give your fiancé a chance.”

This surprised Xavier, who looked at him with great perplexity. “Why should you wish for such a promise?”

“My reasons are my own.”

Xavier simply frowned.

“Promise me.”

Shrugging, and clearly thinking Erik a bit insane, he replied, “Though I see not the reason for it, I suppose after all you have done for me, and if it matters to you, I can promise to try.”

“With that assurance, I will take my leave of you.”

Silence fell between them once more as Erik collected his scattered clothing and reluctantly dressed. He had almost made it out the door when Xavier’s voice caught him.

“Thank you. The memories you have given me tonight... They were better than I could have hoped for. I will always think of you fondly.”

He knew his smile was one of self-depreciation, and that Xavier would not understand it, but it could not be helped. “That is my hope as well.”

With that, he was gone.

*

Erik slept not a wink.

He knew it had nothing to do with the unfamiliarity of the bed in his new lodgings, which was arguably more comfortable than his own. Surrounded as he was by silky sheets, fluffy comforters and plump pillows, he should have slept with the peace of a child, but something was missing and as much as he wished to deny what, or who, that something was, he could not. It was Xavier. To have fallen asleep beside him and woken to that beauteous smile, naked form and those fine eyes, would have been all his heart could wish for.

Somewhere, somehow, Emma was laughing again.

It was insanity. It was all insanity.

How, in the span of a few short hours, had this man affected him so?

The plain light of day should have brought with it some measure of sense, but it did not. His thoughts were all of Xavier— of when he should call, of what he should say, of how Xavier would react. He imagined everything from disbelief and joy, to hatred and betrayal at the deception of it all. How would Xavier feel about all that had transpired? Could he reconcile the awful man he thought Erik to be, with the man he had been last night? Could he forgive the circumstance of their betrothal and instead see it for the glorious serendipity that it was?

There was truly only one way to find out. Erik was no coward , but the thought of meeting Xavier after all that had passed set his stomach churning more than any event in recent memory. Dressing took longer than normal. To the disgruntlement of his valet, he changed outfits several times before choosing the one he thought best brought out his figure. His late breakfast, though he was sure it must have tasted fine, he could not recall , turned as his thoughts were to other things. He finally sent word ahead to Westchester that he was to be expected for afternoon tea. It was not a long time to wait, but enough to have some hope of gathering his thoughts.

That was the theory, but in practice he only succeeded in twisting them further. Erik practiced what he might say, in so many different ways, that he had absolutely no idea what to say at all.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but your coach is ready.”

It was time.

*

Erik had not seen much of the Xavier estate in the dark of the previous night. Even the bedroom they had shared would likely be foreign to him in the light of day. The sitting room to which he had been brought was exceedingly fine. At least he thought so, but as he knew little of furniture or trends, he had no idea if it was considered fashionable. His conversation with Sharon Xavier had been civil but short, too short to gain any sense of her as eager as she was to acquaint him with her son. Oh, the irony. For lack of anything better to do while he awaited Xavier’s arrival, he fiddled with the package in his hands. He hoped not for the first time that this gesture might ease things between them.

His attention was caught by a small commotion outside of one of the doors. He could not make out what was being said but surmised Xavier had arrived and was not at all happy about it. The door opened and Xavier literally stumbled in as if he had been pushed. He was not to have any hope of regaining his composure, because when he spotted Erik, or whom he thought to be Max, the shock mixed with displeasure decomposed him utterly.

In for a penny...

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my dear fiancé.” 

Mrs. Xavier, who had followed in behind him, could not have looked more embarrassed at her son’s clearly impolite reaction to his presence. Whatever she whispered to her son, Erik could not hear it.

“Mother, could you give us the room?”

She looked as though she wished to say something further, but held her tongue, turned on her heel and quit the room. Xavier wasted no time in voicing his displeasure.

“How dare you! You promised me last night that you would never seek me out. Upon your honour, you promised me.”

“I assure you I have broken no promises.”

“The hell you have not. How did you discover me?”

Erik ignored the question as all would be clear soon enough. Xavier, some ardent part of him noted, was just as beautiful in righteous anger as he was in anything else. He offered the package he has been fiddling with in his hands before Xavier had entered.

The man did not take it. “If you believe gifts will temper my displeasure you are wrong, sir.”

“We will not know until you open it.”

Stubbornly, Xavier continued to refuse to take it.

Erik pressed, “ I will not remove myself until you have opened it. Should it not please you , I will stay true to my word and you shall never look upon me again.”

Xavier continued to look angry and skeptical, but one thing scientists had in abundance was curiousity and Erik could see, with some relief , that it was winning out. He took the package and ripped rather viciously at it’s ties and paper. Had the contents been breakable, Erik would have been concerned for them.

Once they were revealed, some of Xavier’s anger was replaced by confusion.

“A pen?”

Xavier turned Erik’s favourite pen in his hand, the one he had himself forged, in very much the same fashion that Erik had done on the journey from Düsseldorf. Xavier looked at it as though it held some meaning he did not comprehend.

“How is a pen, albeit one as fine as this, supposed to change anything?”

His irritation was rising again.

“I had hoped...” Erik paused, choosing his words as carefully as he could. “I had hoped you would take it with you on your voyage to the Caribbean. That you would honour me by keeping with you something I forged myself, in my steel factory.”

Xavier went completely still as realization dawned. It might have been comical had not so much rested on what would come next.

He was near breathless when he finally spoke. “Tell me, what is your name? Your real name.”

“I think you know.”

“Tell me!” he demanded, looking as shaken as anyone Erik had ever seen.

“Erik. Erik Maximoff Lehnsherr.”

In the event that further proof was needed, he reached into his jacket and pulled out the only two letters Xavier had sent him. The man looked as though he might faint. Erik wanted to offer his arm but felt it would be ill received.

Xavier let out a soft exclamation and settled himself on the nearest couch. Erik followed, but when he sat he left some distance between them. Xavier seemed not even to notice him for a time, reeling from the same shock Erik himself had experienced the night before. He said nothing, unsure if it would help or hurt. When Xavier finally chose to sp eak, it was not at all what Erik had expected.

“I thought you to be not more than 27 years!”

Erik swallowed, trying not to flinch from the unintended insult. “I dare say your opinion of me has quite punctured my vanity. Dull and aged beyond my years. I am 27 and I quite clearly comprehend I have a great deal to learn about interesting correspondence. In the future, I hope my letters will bring you more joy than they yet have.”

Xavier had the decency to look mildly chagrined. The shock of it had punctured all the anger and his words became more measured.

“When did you know? Was it from the beginning? Was this... was I some sort of game?”

That smarted, but Erik could not begrudge him the assumption. “ Not at all. I knew you only to be a gorgeous man seeking the same liaison as I. I did not comprehend it until you spoke of my steel factory, our betrothal, and the coincidence seemed too great to deny.”

“You said nothing! The whole time... after we... you said nothing.”

Erik could also not begrudge him the accusation in his tone. “ I have no good excuse, other than it was transpiring to be one of the best nights of my life and I rather thought honesty might... dampen things.”

Xavier’s eyes widened. “The best?”

Daringly, Erik moves closer and rested a hand on Xavier’s thigh, squeezing gently. “If you presume to tell me it was not for you as well, I will know my fiancé is not a truthful man.” He hazarded a small smile.

The delicious flush he had often seen the night before returned to Xavier’s cheeks and with it so many other memories. Erik dared to slide his hand up just a bit farther. Xavier stiffened but did not pull away and Erik could only hope the same memories were now returning to him.

“Will you... will you say my name?”

“M—“ Xavier caught himself. “Erik.” It should not have done such things to him, but to hear his given name in Xavier’s accent made his spine, and other things, tingle.

“Charles,” he returned, undeniable heat in his voice. Xavier’s reaction seemed to mirror his own and Erik slid his hand up even further until it rested on Xavier’ s hip. “I am going to kiss you now and I pray that you do not stop me.”

He leaned forward slowly enough that Charles could, but he did not.  The kiss was slow, languorous, as if this were the first time they were able to explore each other’s mouths. It seemed to go on endlessly . When Erik heard what he was certain was a soft moan, he grin ned into the kiss.

“The sounds you make,” he said, pulling back. “It is entirely possible I am going to chain you to our bed for my carnal satisfaction.”

Charles, despite it all, looked scandalized and smacked him lightly on his chest. “I may tolerate that for the honeymoon, if you should be so lucky.”

Erik’s grin widened. “ To think a mutual acquaintance described you as the most proper sort of gentleman. If only he could hear you now.”

Charles rolled his eyes and looked away, gaze falling back onto the forgotten pen. He raised it between them.

“You crafted this yourself?”

Erik inclined his head. “I did. There is a great deal you presume to know about me, when truly you know very little. You have your passions and I mine.”

Charles’ lips quirked into a grin of his own. “Oh, I think I know a great deal about some of your passions.”

Erik laughed. “I cannot argue with that, but not this one. It may be thought unbecoming of a man of means to sully himself in a forge, but nothing brings me greater joy than crafting in metal.”

Charles traced the patterns and foliage on the barrel for some time. Erik dared not intrude upon his thoughts, as they seemed increasingly to be shifting in a favourable direction.

“You truly mean for me to take this pen to the Caribbean?”

“I have no desire to have the husband you described last night. We each have our own passions and we each ought to have room to pursue them. Moreover, I wish... I wish you to be happy, Charles. Not only with your life, but with me. This may have begun as a business contract , but it is my dearest hope it will be much more.”

Charles looked as though he could not believe Erik was real and Erik sympathized. Life, in his experience, treated none so well as this.

“I have already made arrangements to travel with you to Liverpool in three days time, so that you may discuss with Professor Howlett your participation.”

For an insane moment, Erik thought Charles might be about to cry. He would never truly know because Charles threw himself at him, burying his head in Erik’s neck and holding him tightly. The words that came were so soft, Erik almost did not hear them. “You have made me indescribably happy.”

That hit somewhere Erik had not felt a great deal of anything in some time. He held Charles just as tightly in return.

“Perhaps you might do something to make me indescribably happy in return?”

“Name it.”

“Promise me you will not seduce any exotic Caribbean men in dark hallways?”

Charles laughed so hard he had to pull away from their embrace. Erik did not mind, as the joy in his face was gorgeous .

“Easily done, so long as you can promise me the same.”

“I can. I fear, at any rate, that I will be so preoccupied with my loathsome , dreadful , dreary, dull steel factory that I will not have the time for seductions.”

That set Charles off again, laughing merrily at his own and Erik’s expense.

It was a new beginning and a glorious one at that.

*

Dearest Sister,

I have become acquainted with my fiancé. I have bedded him. He has utterly stolen my heart.

You may laugh to your heart’s content.

I will bring him to meet you at the earliest convenience.

Your Idiot Brother,

Erik