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Charles walks to his room, his mind distracted by thoughts of the argument he’s just had with Raven and Emma about keeping Erik without consulting any of them first—which is just ridiculous, because really, this is his castle, and it’s therefore his prerogative to decide if someone can stay or not. (Especially if they’re going to stay forever, as is the case with Erik; Charles is never, ever letting him go.) It’s not like Erik isn’t one of them; he’s a mutant, he’s positively gorgeous, and now that Charles has managed to debauch him thoroughly (not as difficult as he’d expected, which is just another reason to add to the ever-growing list of why Erik belongs here), he’s just as sex-crazed as the rest of them—
Speaking of which. Charles has just reached his door, and oh, lovely, Erik’s inside and waiting for him. Charles can’t quite make out Erik’s exact thoughts, buried as they are below a layer of anticipation and nervousness and arousal (and Charles is delighted to see how much Erik’s opened himself up to those feelings; there’s almost no shame at all, how wonderful). Charles smirks as he opens the door, imagining how Erik has arranged himself: perhaps he’s lying back on the bed, slowly stroking himself off and waiting for Charles to arrive and punish him for starting alone, or maybe he’s standing in the center of the room, completely naked and blushing furiously, or—
Or maybe he’s used his power to shackle himself to the chandelier in the center of the room and gagged himself with a strip of metal, and Charles will have to use all his (not inconsiderable) willpower to not come there and then. He can’t quite keep his lips from parting slightly, or his cheeks from reddening, or prevent the not-so-subtle jerk of his cock, and from the smug note that creeps into Erik’s thoughts and the smirk obviously curling his lips even with the gag in the way, Charles’s reaction hasn’t gone unnoticed.
Well. That just won’t do.
Charles takes a deep (but inaudible) breath, calming himself, and closes the door gently behind him, never taking his gaze off Erik. He smiles wickedly as he flicks his eyes up and down, making a very obvious show of taking in the whole delightful picture, ensuring Erik notices the way he lingers over Erik’s cock and that delicious, delicious arse. Erik swallows, his smirk fading. Ah. That’s better.
“Lovely,” Charles pronounces, striding forward confidently. He stops just shy of Erik, who strains forward to meet him. Charles halts him with a hand to his sternum, shaking his head and tsking disapprovingly.
“Now, darling,” he says, tracing his finger lightly over Erik’s chest, “don’t be impatient.” He flicks one pert nipple and revels in the way Erik’s entire body shivers. “You’ve chained yourself up so nicely for me, let me take the time to enjoy it properly.” He flicks the other nipple, eliciting another full-body shudder, and oh, Erik is just so responsive. Charles smirks up at Erik, who rattles his chains slightly, but stops the instant Charles glares at him—and that, that is the most exciting thing about this: Erik could get himself out of this any time he’d like, could turn the tables on Charles and chain him up, but he won’t; he wants to do this for Charles, he trusts Charles, and that’s even more arousing than the picture he makes.
“Yes?” Charles murmurs, leaning in and ghosting his breath over Erik’s ear. “You want me to do whatever I want with you, use you like the slut you are?” He slides one hand down to squeeze Erik’s cock, the other palming his arse. The tenor of Erik’s thoughts changes for the desperate, practically shouting his need and arousal at Charles, who smirks as he blows wetly on Erik’s ear again. “A nod will suffice.”
Erik’s head jerks down and then up again so rapidly that Charles is almost afraid he’s torn something. But the only change in Erik’s thoughts is that they grow more articulate, I want and Charles and please, and really, how can Charles say no when Erik is begging so nicely?
He starts jerking Erik off slowly, moving his other hand to caress up and down Erik’s spine, occasionally pausing to massage the places where the muscles have started to tense from the strain of being chained up. He nibbles lightly at Erik’s earlobe, delighting in Erik’s resulting whimpers, and slowly starts to move his way down, kissing and nipping along the long column of Erik’s throat. He pauses at Erik’s pulse point to lavish attention on the mark he left the night before, sucking to renew the bruise; Erik hisses at the dual sensations of pain and pleasure. Charles smirks against Erik’s neck, delivering one last bite to the spot before continuing on his path.
He brings the hand at Erik’s back to Erik’s nipple, massages and twists it as he sucks on its twin, swirling his tongue around the nub and biting it gently before he releases it, blowing on it lightly before applying the same treatment to the other nipple. He can feel Erik’s resolve waning, feel his powers tugging at the metal gag as the litany of pleading and Charles intensifies.
Oh, no, that’s not acceptable.
Charles hums in displeasure and straightens up, releasing Erik’s cock and stepping back. He frowns as Erik tries to follow him, and Erik leans back, trying very hard to look sheepish and sorry. Charles, of course, isn’t buying it. He slides his mind around the centers controlling Erik’s powers, and he taps them very lightly, quirks an eyebrow when Erik’s eyes widen and his eyes snap to Charles’s.
“Do I need to make sure you don’t slip?” Charles asks, hands on his hips. He’s very aware of how he looks to Erik, how this position draws attention to his cock—Erik’s eyes keep flicking down almost unconsciously. “Because if you can’t control yourself…”
Erik shakes his head fervently, the chains rattling above him. I’ll be good, he says. I promise, Charles, you don’t have to, I’ll be good, I swear—
Charles places a finger to Erik’s lips. “Ssh,” he orders, and Erik falls silent, though his thoughts still swirl anxiously with fear and desire. “I know you will, sweetheart. But I will turn it off if you need me to.” He flexes his mind one last time before withdrawing to make his point clear. “Yes?” Erik nods, his eyes still wide. Charles leans in and kisses his top lip, feels Erik slowly release his own hold of his powers, and nips his lip in approval.
You’re being so good for me, he projects. So, so good. I’m very pleased. Erik shivers with the praise and Charles pulls back with a smirk, licking his lips ostentatiously and thrilling at the way Erik’s thoughts turn positively filthy. Such good behavior deserves to be rewarded.
Charles sinks to his knees, crossing his legs at the ankles, folding his hands in his lap as he leans forward to take the very tip of Erik’s cock into his mouth, looking up at Erik through his lashes. Erik’s mind lights up like fireworks, babbling nonsense mixed with praise and one particularly vivid image, practically shoved at Charles, of exactly how he looks like this, on his knees, lips around Erik’s cock, the image colored with everything Erik’s feeling, arousal and want and desperation and—emotions that Charles is not equipped to deal with right now.
Charles can feel Erik holding back the urge to thrust forward, and as a reward, he slides further onto Erik’s cock, tongue flattening against its underside and flicking against Erik’s circumcision scar. Erik almost—almost—jerks forward, but holds himself back at the last second.
Good boy, Charles thinks absently to Erik, starting to suck gently, pulling Erik’s cock into his mouth slowly, taking his time. Erik starts to curse violently and prolifically—really, the range of obscenities he knows is quite impressive, and Charles files away some of the words for later use—while using every ounce of his strength to keep his muscles rigid. Charles keeps his hands in his lap as he increases his speed, continuing to move forward along Erik’s cock until the tip touches the back of his throat, his lips stretched wide around its base. Charles hums contentedly, sending vibrations all along Erik’s cock, and Erik makes a high-pitched keening noise but still doesn’t move.
Perfect, Charles thinks, and Erik whines again. There’s the sound of the chains rattling again, and Charles pulls back a little and looks up, but no, Erik’s just clenching and unclenching his fists; Charles doesn’t need to intervene just yet. Charles slides back down, then up, twisting his tongue just as he reaches the tip of Erik’s prick, and he smiles at the dribble of pre-come that trickles out of the slit and falls onto his tongue.
He moves forward on Erik’s cock again, though not as far this time, and finally lets his hands come up, one fastening on to Erik’s hip to keep him still (Erik’s trembling with the effort of holding still, and he’s been so good, really, that Charles should help him stay that way) and the other forming a ring around the base of Erik’s cock. He moves the ring of his fingers in counterpoint to his mouth, increasing his speed until Erik is practically screaming into Charles’s head with his need to come, at which point Charles pulls off entirely. He licks his lips as he stands, reveling in Erik’s thoughts of I’m going to come I’m going to come Charles please let me come please please please.
“Not yet, darling,” Charles says, while his mind takes control of Erik’s powers. Erik tenses for a moment before relaxing, trusting Charles—and then Charles has to use his mind to pull himself back from the edge so he doesn’t come himself. After that, a simple thought has a strip of metal folding off from the chandelier, floating down to wrap around the base of Erik’s cock, nestling up snugly just below his balls. As it pulls tight, Erik groans around his gag.
Charles, he pleads.
“I said, not yet,” Charles repeats, a little more sternly, tracing a finger around the newly formed cock ring as he releases control of Erik’s powers. “You said I could do with you as I wished, yes? I’m not finished with you, Erik.” He grips Erik’s chin, hard, forces Erik to meet his eyes. “You’re mine,” he growls.
Yours, Erik returns, with an edge of desperation. Yours, yours, yours, only yours.
“Yes,” Charles says, his voice low and menacing. He knows he’s not the first person to sleep with Erik—he’s seen the memories, seen Erik fucking others and being fucked by them in turn—and he’s overtaken by jealousy at the thought of Erik giving any part of him to anyone else. Charles hates every single one of Erik’s past partners with an unfamiliar passion, and feels the need to mark Erik, to prove that he’s Charles’s and no one else’s. “Every inch of you belongs to me.” He presses his thumb firmly to the love bite at the juncture of Erik’s neck and shoulder, and Erik, stronger than everyone else Charles has fucked, everyone else Charles has ever wanted, doesn’t shy away, doesn’t even flinch, just keeps looking steadily at Charles even as his eyes pool with unshed tears at the pain and frustration of not being able to come. It’s not enough, though.
Charles leans in and kisses Erik, biting his upper lip firmly. “These lips are mine,” he declares. He kisses Erik’s cheekbones, strokes his forehead. “This face.” He reaches up and twines one of his hands with Erik’s, trails the other down Erik’s arm. “These hands, these arms.” He flicks one of Erik’s nipples, still pink and raw from his earlier abuse. “These nipples.” His hands close around Erik’s impossibly narrow waist, so slim that his fingertips nearly touch. “This waist.” Charles steps forward, slotting his leg between Erik’s and gently touching Erik’s thighs with his own. “These legs.” He runs the toe of his stiletto lightly along the top of Erik’s foot. “These feet.” Then he moves his attention back up, bringing both hands to squeeze the tip of Erik’s leaking cock, and Erik whimpers, his hips stuttering forward before Charles stills them. “These hips,” and then he smirks, leans in and whispers, “this cock,” as he palms Erik’s prick again.
And then: Charles’s destination, his ultimate prize. He circles around Erik, coming to a halt when he’s presented with Erik’s back, and steps forward, bringing his mouth to Erik’s ear, as he cups—“This arse,” he breathes, exhaling against Erik’s ear and squeezing Erik’s arse as they both shiver. “This perfect”—Charles slaps one cheek—“perfect”—slaps the other—“arse,” he finishes, tracing the crease between them. “All mine,” he says, his voice dropping a full octave.
Erik just nods, too overcome to even think coherently at Charles, tears dripping down his face as he hangs his head forward in surrender.
Charles squeezes Erik’s arse again as he sinks to his knees for the second time that night. He stares for a moment, taking in the sight of such perfection, traces the dimples of each cheek before leaning in and burying his face in between them. “Perfect,” he murmurs again, his voice muffled by Erik’s flesh, the vibrations enough to make Erik tremble violently.
Then Charles pulls back, spreads Erik’s arse cheeks, and licks tentatively at Erik’s hole. Erik yelps around the gag, his hips jerking forward in an attempt to escape, but Charles holds him firmly in place, digging his fingers in hard enough to bruise. The thought of those marks on Erik, delineating him as Charles’s, is enough to make Charles surge forward, plunging his tongue into Erik’s hole. Erik’s thoughts are a jumble of incoherent arousal, all his focus narrowed to the strokes of Charles’s tongue inside him.
After a few minutes, Charles deems Erik wet enough, and he slides one blunt finger in alongside his tongue. Erik yells again as his hips drive back against Charles, meeting Charles thrust for thrust. Charles soon adds a second finger, withdrawing his tongue as his fingers drive in further, seeking, seeking—
He knows the instant he finds Erik’s prostate: Erik’s entire body bows backwards, his mind flaring with pleas for Charles to let him come please let him come for the love of God.
God has nothing to do with it, Charles thinks back cheekily, adding a third finger and ramming Erik’s prostate over and over again until Erik’s practically screaming with every thrust, gag or no.
Erik’s mind is afire, begging Please Charles please please please please please please let me come I’ll do anything just LET ME COME, CHARLES PLEASE.
Charles takes control of Erik’s powers again, and unwraps the cock ring at the same moment as he crooks his fingers inside Erik, finding his prostate unerringly, and he says, “Go on then, love, come for me.” Charles undoes the gag, too; he wants to hear Erik come.
And come he does, cursing and weeping and still pleading and yelling Charles’s name, his come shooting everywhere and completely ruining the carpet. (Charles thinks of Emma having to clean it tomorrow with smug satisfaction.)
As Erik’s orgasm fades and he sags forward in his bonds, Charles circles to stand in front of him, uses the hold he still has on Erik’s powers to lengthen the chains holding the other man to the chandelier until Erik is kneeling in front of him, head bowed.
“Look up at me,” Charles commands. Erik obeys; Charles’s breath catches. Erik looks wrecked, his face blotchy, eyes red-rimmed and still shedding tears, a drop of his own come sitting on his chin. But the picture’s not complete yet. “Mouth open,” Charles orders, taking his cock in hand. Erik’s jaw drops. Charles strokes himself roughly twice, thrice, and then he’s coming, spilling all over Erik’s face and chest, completely drenching him and making him look five times as destroyed as before. Erik swallows, licks his lips to collect the come sitting on them, and Charles would come again, if he could.
Charles kneels in front of Erik and reaches up to his still-bound wrists, uses a touch of Erik’s power to unchain him before releasing Erik’s mind completely. Erik’s arms fall and he sinks forward onto Charles, burying his face in the crook of Charles’s neck as Charles’s arms come up around him, stroking his back.
“Perfect,” Charles breathes. “You’re perfect, Erik.”
“Yours,” Erik croaks. He pulls back with effort, makes a cursory effort at wiping off his face, and looks Charles in the eye. “Yours,” he says again, with complete conviction, the statement resonating through every fiber of his body and his mind.
Charles leans forward and kisses him. “Yes,” he breathes, pulling back. “You’re mine.” He pauses, takes in every inch of Erik before he says, quietly, the first time he’s ever said this to anyone, “But I’m yours, too.”
Erik smiles. “I know.”