Chapter Text
“Erik,” Charles moans. “Erik, Erik, Erik—”
“Yes, Charles, yes,” Erik groans, grinding himself down on Charles’s cock, alternating between suckling at Charles’s nipples and kissing him messily, with an occasional nip to Charles’s neck thrown in every now and again just to keep Charles on his toes. “Oh, fuck, yes!”
Charles fumbles at Erik’s waist for a moment before his hands close around his cock. “Come on,” he mutters, his face screwed up in concentration as he strokes in counterpoint to the rhythm at which Erik is currently riding him. “Come on, come on, come on—”
And with a shout, Erik sinks all the way down onto Charles and comes, shooting all over Charles’s naked chest. He collapses forward and lies still for a moment before gently, ever so gently, detaching himself from Charles’s still-hard cock. He stares at it for a second, then slides down the bed and takes Charles into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down a few times as Charles’s breath hitches. Erik knows, though, that he’s more turned-on by the picture Erik makes than by the actual sensation of having his cock sucked, so after a few more moments, he pulls off and slithers back up Charles’s body. He claims Charles’s lips with his own as his hands start stroking and pinching every inch of Charles’s torso, focusing on the spots where he knows Charles is particularly sensitive.
“Erik,” Charles gasps, when they break apart for air, “Erik, I think I’m going to—”
“Go on,” Erik says, reaching down and stroking Charles’s cock once, twice, thrice, before leaning in and biting Charles’s neck and pinching Charles’s side at the same time. Charles yells and comes, his mind sparking and flaring so brilliantly that Erik forgets himself for a few moments.
When he’s once again aware of where he ends and where Charles begins, he’s again collapsed on Charles’s chest, their come pooling and mixing together on both their stomachs. They both lie there for a few minutes, catching their breath, their hands absently running over every part of each other they can reach.
“Fuck, I love Viagra,” Erik breathes into Charles’s sternum. Charles laughs, the vibrations resonating through Erik’s entire body.
“That makes two of us,” he says. “I just wish they’d invented it sooner.”
“At least we have it now.”
“True,” Charles says, and they both fall silent again, content to just listen to their breathing sync up.
Finally, after several minutes, Charles says, “Ugh,” and starts shoving ineffectually at Erik’s shoulder. “Up, get up, it’s starting to dry, and if we don’t clean it off now we’ll itch all day.” Erik sighs exaggeratedly as he staggers up and to the bathroom, wets a washcloth, and throws it on Charles’s chest.
“There,” he exhales, flopping onto the bed beside him. Charles wipes himself off, then Erik, before sitting up and throwing the towel unceremoniously on the floor to join the not-inconsiderable pile they’ve already generated. It’s the fourth day of their honeymoon, and Erik’s not sure the two of them have ever fucked this much, not even when they were young and virile and in that first flush of love and youth and possibilities, nearly fifty years ago. (God, has it really been that long?)
“Yes, yes it has,” Charles mumbles. He reaches out blindly, hand closing on Erik’s bicep, and he pulls him closer, peremptory and demanding even after (especially after) some of the best sex they’ve ever had. “And you were stupid and I was an ass, but we’re married now, so I suppose it all worked out.”
Erik turns in Charles’s embrace and leans up to kiss him. “I guess it did,” he says. He spends a moment thinking about slow-burning couples—and then starts shaking with laughter. Charles peeks in to see what Erik finds so funny, and then starts chuckling himself.
“Did you even know about them?” he asks.
“An inkling, once, long ago,” Erik says, grinning. “Not recently, though.”
“They said it all started again with the Kelly plot, fifteen years ago,” Charles laughs. “Can you honestly believe—”
“Mystique and Emma?” Erik asks, grinning up at him. “Never in a million years.”
“And yet,” Charles says, his face suddenly becoming serious as he looks down at Erik.
“And yet,” Erik agrees, solemnly. He kisses Charles again, deeper and more passionately than before, Charles responding in kind; but it’s not the sort of kiss that’s intended to lead anywhere. After a few minutes, Erik pulls away, closes his eyes and buries his face in Charles’s neck, his default now for so many years. He breathes in, inhaling that particular mixture of Axe Body Spray, sweat, sex, and Charles that he loves so much, content to stay there forever—but Charles shoves him off, making a face.
“Ugh,” he groans, holding Erik back, covering the top half of his face with his other hand. “How can you even—God, I must smell disgusting.”
Erik grins and shakes his head as he leans back in and kisses Charles’s neck, closing his eyes and taking a good long whiff. He opens his mind and pulls Charles in, shows how, to him, Charles smells of sex and love and home and perfect, like everything Erik has ever wanted, like everything he’ll ever want. There’s a sharp intake of breath, and Charles’s arms tighten around Erik, pressing the two of them even closer together.
Erik smirks against Charles’s neck as he breathes in again, and thinks, as he reaches out and twines their left hands together, You’ve never smelled more beautiful, darling.