Chapter Text
He wakes on Christmas morning alone, the spot beside him predictably empty, and already cool to the touch.
It’s not what gives Charles pause though, as he luxuriates in his comfortable bed; rather, it’s the conflicted emotions he’s experiencing now and on an almost daily basis, nearly a year after his arrival in Genosha and newly wed to its king.
His head feels a little groggy still from too much brandy, and his limbs ache deliciously from a night of passion, from hours of bliss in the arms of his patient lover. His time with Logan has eroded slowly these past months, with Charles’ duties as Consort increased along with his own desire to serve. It had surprised him, to fall in love so deeply with this bountiful land and its resilient people, aided in no small part by the trip he took with Erik to tour the country, and to see the beauty of Genosha up close.
And it had surprised him even more, to wake up one morning and find his feelings for Erik too irrevocably changed, so much that the early days of their union – filled with cold silences and awkward exchanges – seem now like a lifetime ago, and not mere months in the counting. If pressed, Charles might even concede to a real fondness for his mercurial mate, though whatever else he might feel is still too bewildering to examine in depth.
Once it had seemed inconceivable, that he would ever become used to waking in his husband’s arms, nestled in his husband’s bed. That it would be Erik’s absence that would seem strange, weeks after the two were first forced to share chambers on the road; a habit that continued inexplicably upon their return to the palace.
Even more inconceivable that the merest specter of guilt should fall over the precious moments Charles spends with Logan, whom he yet loves with his whole heart.
A knock on the door interrupts his jumble of thoughts, dragging Charles further into consciousness as he props himself up on the bed. He grabs his crumpled night shirt off the floor and shrugs it hastily over his shoulders, grimacing when a cramp shoots unexpectedly up his left leg.
“Come in.”
His discomfort must be have been clear, because Erik is stalking across the room and at his side in a flash, hands bracing him as he rubs gingerly at his calf. It does little to soothe the pain until Erik takes over, Charles’ leg across his lap as he seats himself on the bed, hands warm and sure as they work diligently to ease the tension.
“Better?” Erik asks, amusement evident at the reaction he garners, leveling him with a teasing grin. But Charles is unashamed of the moans being dragged from his lips, slowly relaxing against the pillows under Erik’s skillful hands. “Too much dancing with Raven last night?”
“Possibly,” he answers, ignoring the guilty twinge in his gut. It’s not a lie, not completely – Charles had spent the evening in the company of his sister and Logan, decorating the tree in his rooms and reminiscing over past Christmases at Graymalkin. There had been singing and dancing, and too much drink; just enough to dull the homesickness that had flared painfully during his favorite time of year. And he had indulged greatly in the opportunity to be with Logan again, to kiss and touch and just be in each other’s company, knowing that his husband would be too busy to interrupt, celebrating his own traditions for the holidays. “I might have pulled a muscle trying to decorate the top of the Christmas tree.”
Erik laughs. “Perhaps I should have asked Reynard to grow you a smaller tree. It’s a good thing you didn’t fall and break a leg on Christmas Eve.”
He would not believe it still if he hadn’t seen the dazzling power for himself; a Gift that allowed one to control and grow plant life rapidly regardless of soil or climate. Reynard had used his power every year to grow the giant Christmas spruce that decorated the palace’s main entry way; this year, he had grown a second, much smaller version specifically for the Consort’s rooms at the King’s behest.
“No it’s perfect,” Charles replies, reaching instinctively for Erik’s hand and giving it a light squeeze. “I want to thank you again, for your kindness. I know you don’t celebrate Christmas yourself…you didn’t have to go to all the trouble of securing me my own tree, and decorations too. It means a lot.”
“I was happy to do it,” Erik says, his hand moving to cup Charles’ cheek. “I know that I haven’t always been the best husband to you—”
“No! You’ve been very generous; I have everything I need—”
“—but I mean to change that, Charles. Perhaps it’s still too soon but someday, I hope our union will become much more than an obligation to you.”
Charles shakes his head. “Erik, I don’t—”
His words are cut short by the press of Erik’s lips, a soft and insistent kiss that bypasses all of Charles’ defenses. More and more he finds himself unable to resist – to guard his emotions and keep them separate from their physical relationship. It’s become much too easy to fall into Erik’s arms and succumb to his touch; to lose himself in the burgeoning heat when he’s pressed gently down onto the bed.
“Erik,” he gasps, already hard from the feel of his husband’s body on top of him, caging him, holding him still. Their attraction to each other has always been intense, even from the first when they were two strangers on their wedding night, forced to share a bed. And time and familiarity has only enflamed their passion since, the sparks igniting red hot with the slightest touch, or a barely whispered name.
He moans then as Erik takes him in hand and strokes him, desire and lust coursing like liquid fire through his veins. Charles bucks and writhes and fucks into Erik’s hand, uncaring of the way he sounds – so wanton and needy, keening as Erik leaves teeth marks all over his skin. Too soon he’s spilling with a cry that Erik inhales hungrily, swallowing the sounds of pleasure tumbling from Charles’ gasping lips.
“Do you intend to end all our discussions this way?” he pants, taking a few moments to catch his breath as Erik looks down at him with a grin. “And shall I respond to you in kind?”
“Later, if you’re amenable,” is the reply, and Charles arches like a cat against the warm palm stroking his cheek. “I have something to show you that I think you will enjoy very much.”
Charles laughs. “More enjoyable than just now?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Indulge me, all the same.”
He straightens with an exaggerated sigh, and lets Erik tug him carefully onto his feet. Still lax from his release he allows himself to be easily maneuvered, settling back against Erik’s chest as he’s angled towards the drapery covered windows.
“Is it still raining?” Charles teases. “Only, it’s been raining non-stop for the last three days, so I guess it would be quite a surprise if it’s finally stopped.”
Surprisingly it’s the sub-tropical climate of Genosha that solidifies Charles’ yearning for home, with December falling in the midst of its hottest – and rainiest – season. He aches to be so far from wintery London situated half a world away, where his father and his friends must be attending Church services in the snow.
“It has stopped raining,” Erik whispers, his arms tightening just slightly around Charles’ waist. “Look.”
The heavy drapery pulls open with a flourish, tugged apart by the metal hidden in its seams. It reveals a sight that makes Charles gasp with disbelief; a blanket of white and the flutter of snowflakes falling steadily outside his bedroom window.
“What…how?”
“Ororo,” Erik explains, and Charles is so stunned that he has to take a step closer, and press his nose against the frosted glass. “I asked if she could change the weather for us, temporarily of course. And just over the palace grounds.”
Charles is speechless for long moments, his eyes drifting over the trees and the flowers, all covered in an inch of snow. For a moment he can pretend that he’s looking out his bedroom at Graymalkin, and the ache in his chest morphs into something dangerously close to...
“It’s beautiful,” he breathes, instead of following his thoughts down that treacherous path. “I can’t believe it. You brought me snow.”
“I know that you miss home,” Erik acknowledges, and Charles has to close his eyes at the painful sincerity in his voice. “I know it’s not the same thing; that I can’t really give you a snowy Christmas in London, or your father’s presence…”
Charles turns and wraps his arms around his husband, tugging him close. “No, this is…I don’t know how to tell you how much this means to me. I love it. Thank you, Erik.”
“You’re welcome,” Erik replies with a sigh, nuzzling his face in Charles’ bed tousled hair. “I think, in the new year, we can make plans for a trip to London. To see your king, and pay a visit to the Admiral.”
And what else can Charles do then but kiss him? For giving Charles the very thing he’d wished for but could have never expected? “You’ve made me the happiest man in Genosha, Erik Lehnsherr.”
Erik smiles. “As you have with me, Charles.”