Chapter Text
The thing about divorce is it’s not always dramatic fights and expensive lawyers and lengthy trials. Sometimes, divorce is only slightly tedious, quiet, and rather quick. In the span of ninety-two days, Charles went from being a married man to a divorced one.
He stares at the Judgement of Divorce on his counter, a somewhat hollow feeling in his chest. “Well, that’s that, I guess,” he murmurs. His fingers brush the corner of the paper. It’s not that he was ever opposed to the idea of divorce. He and Moira hadn’t been good in a long time, and no amount of couples counseling or halfhearted sex was going to fix it. They didn’t even fight all the time, and that was in and of itself an issue. They didn’t fight at all, because they just didn’t interact anymore.
Somewhere along the way, the spark of love in their relationship had died out and instead was replaced by a mind-numbing routine-filled life. They had essentially lived the last two years as roommates. It’s hard to not feel like a failure when not even telepathy was enough to avoid the slow, silent end of their romantic relationship.
Then Moira met someone, and she didn’t even need to say anything, because Charles could sense the guilt radiating off her like a neon beacon in the dark of night. He knew then and there they were done. Charles just didn’t have it in him to try fighting for her. They even parted as friends. Charles supposes he’s happy for her, that she’s moving on with someone who may love her as she deserves, but he had gotten so used to having her around he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s going through life alone again.
He sighs. Before he’s even realized what he’s doing, he picks up his phone and dials Logan. It rings enough times that Charles thinks he won’t answer and is about to hang up, but then he hears Logan yelling.
“—then he’s brave enough to come talk to me face-to-face! And quit talkin’ back ‘cause I’m talking to your uncle Charles!” Then, more quietly, “What’s going on, Chuck?”
“Is this a bad time?” Charles chuckles despite his dejected mood. “You sound like you’re in the middle of parenting.”
“This damn kid is why I’ve got all these gray hairs. She met some boy at school and wants to start dating now,” Logan grunts.
“She is at that age,” Charles says.
“She’s seventeen.”
Charles lets out an amused puff of breath. “Do you want me to remind you what you were doing at seventeen?”
“Which is exactly why she doesn’t need to start going around and dating boys. What the hell are you even calling me for anyway?”
His fingers ghost over the paper again as Charles takes a fortifying breath. He hesitates, considering not telling Logan, then discards the thought as quickly as it comes. “Just got the divorce papers in the mail. It’s done. I’m no longer a married man.” He tries to laugh to lighten the weight of his words, but it falls flat.
“Shit, Charles.”
“Don’t do something stupid like say you’re sorry,” Charles warns.
“Nah, I won’t. I know it’s better for you and Moira. You two always felt more like friends than a married couple of who fuckin' knows how many years. But I know you’re still affected by it.”
“Yeah,” Charles says. “I guess. I was her husband for so long that I feel weird now that I’m not.”
“So… what now?”
“I mean, nothing now. I’ll hang up on this call with you, make a cup of tea and dinner, grade some assignments, shower, go to bed, and move on with my life,” he says.
“No celebrating over being single again? Sounds boring as hell, Chuck. This is why your marriage died.”
Already used to Logan’s blunt words from years and years of friendship, Charles only scoffs. “What does it matter that I’m single again? I’m a man in his mid-forties that lives to work at this point. And my job isn’t even anything flashy. I’m a genetics professor. I have two cats and no hobbies. Try putting that on some online dating app, and watch how absolutely no one will line up. I’ll live the rest of my days as a spinster.”
“Listen here, you little shit. It’s a Friday night, and the Charles Xavier I knew before he settled down would’ve been black-out drunk at this point already. You don’t have a missus at home waiting anymore, so we’re going out. I’ll come pick you up in thirty minutes.”
Charles groans and begins to protest, “No, Logan, no, I truly am too tired and have too much grading to catch up on–”
“Thirty. Minutes. I’m calling Raven and telling her to meet us. You better be ready or I’ll come inside and drag you out myself.”
His phone beeps at him a couple times. “Bastard hung up on me,” Charles mutters incredulously. He stands motionless for a moment, considering just locking his door and hiding from Logan, before he remembers it’d be a waste of time. Logan has a key to his apartment. He sends a quick text to Logan requesting that, if they’re gonna go out, they better go to some random bar where he has absolutely no risk of running into one of his students. Logan would think it hilarious to take him to some club knowing all Charles owns are tweed blazers and sweater vests and cardigans.
He drags a hand through his hair in mild frustration and goes to find something to wear to a bar on a Friday night.
After Logan came to pick him up and made fun of him for a good ten minutes because of the lilac sweater and grey blazer he chose, they finally parked at the bar Logan had selected.
“Look, Raven’s already here,” Charles says as he points to her car. He unbuckles his seatbelt and exits the car, Logan not far behind. Raven steps out, and Charles is pleasantly surprised to see a flash of furry blue pop out from the passenger side. “You brought Hank!”
“I knew you’d want someone to be miserable with, about being at a bar this late.” Raven grins and comes to give him a hug. She squeezes Charles tight. “I don’t know whether to say congrats or my condolences on the divorce.”
For the oddest reason, it’s his sister hugging him and saying that, coupled with the genuinely sympathetic thoughts he can hear from her, that brings tears to his eyes. He blinks them away ferociously, and squeezes her back. “I don’t know either, but I’m starting to think Logan had the right idea putting drinks in front of me.”
They pull away, and Raven gives him a comforting smile. “We’re totally doing so many shots tonight.”
Charles makes a face. “Oh, god.”
“Not if we stand out here all fuckin’ night,” Logan says. He makes his way into the bar, and Charles drops behind to sidle up next to Hank.
“How have you been?” He asks, and Hank shrugs.
“Good. Nothing crazy lately. I’m in the process of wrapping up my dissertation though. I got special clearance to submit a little bit of a longer one.”
“You know I’m always around if you want another set of eyes on it,” Charles says, and Hank smiles.
“I do, and I always appreciate your offering. I might send you the last section of it, I feel like I’m losing steam and the writing is coming out all wrong–”
They’re interrupted by Logan clapping them on the shoulder. “If I hear either of you talk about school tonight I’m making you do a shot of straight whiskey.”
Hank looks mildly terrified by the idea, and it brings a laugh out of Charles. They take a seat at a hightop in the back of the bar. It had been probably a good twenty years since Charles had stepped foot inside a dive bar. He and Moira had much preferred going to breweries instead, even the occasional rooftop bar.
The music is loud, but not loud enough that it’s overstimulating. There’s lots of questionable stains in the carpet, and Charles makes an effort to not look too closely at them. Just the general atmosphere of the bar is enough to make Charles feel fuzzy. The thoughts of all the people inside blur together in their drunken haze, and Charles draws his telepathy in a bit tighter to recuperate some of his rational thought.
He catches a glimpse of people setting up equipment for karaoke on the other side of the bar, and nudges Raven. “I’ll give you ten dollars if you sing something.”
Raven snorts. “Okay,” she easily agrees, and Charles raises his eyebrows.
“Now that I can’t wait to see,” he chuckles.
He hadn’t even noticed Logan had left, but Logan returns and sits. He sets three beers down on the table. “We’ve got a round of shots coming shortly.”
Charles blinks. “What kind of shots?”
Logan only smirks at him and pushes a beer closer. Charles rolls his eyes but takes a drink anyway. It’s somewhat bland, in the way cheap beer is, and not at all cold, so Charles takes a bigger swig. Raven brings hers to her lips, and thinks CHUG CHUG CHUG in Charles’ direction, and so he keeps drinking, faster. He slams the glass down, just a second before Raven.
“Damn! I thought I had it,” Raven complains as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
“You could never outdrink me, even back when we were in our twenties,” Charles reminds her arrogantly. “Those Sharon genes were good for something.”
“Just wait until the shots get out here,” Raven says with a Cheshire cat smile. They don’t have to wait long, because a girl comes to their table with a tray of three shots with a lime on the rim.
“What is that?” Charles asks her, alarmed. “Is that tequila?”
She transfers the glasses to the table quickly. “Yep. Enjoy.” She makes to leave, then pauses when her eyes land on Hank. “Hey!”
Hank perks up, eyes brightening with recognition. “Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”
The girl weaves around the table to give Hank a side hug. “Yeah, me, Alex, and Sean all do! Alex’ll want to come out and say hi, I’ll get him for you. Do you want something to drink?”
“Just a water’s fine. And you really don’t need to bother Alex–”
She scoffs. “He’d be so pissed with me if he missed you. Hang on.” She’s gone in a second.
“Who’s that?” Raven immediately asks. “Hank, you sly dog, you’ve never told us about any girl.”
Hank flushes slightly. “She’s just a friend.”
“She also seems extremely young for Hank to be doing anything with her,” Charles interjects.
That brings Hank up short. “Okay, well, I’m only thirty-two.”
“Yeah, and if she’s working here and serving alcohol, she’s gotta be over twenty-one, so it wouldn’t be that crazy. Spill, Hank.” Raven doles out the shots to Charles, Logan, and herself.
“She’s really just a friend. Her name’s Angel, I met her through another friend and we hang out whenever I’m not with you elderly folk,” Hank snipes.
Raven pauses, touching a hand to her chest in a wounded manner. “Ouch. Just because Charles called you old doesn’t mean you gotta call me old.”
“I mean, you’re no spring chicken either,” Logan says.
“I was still in my thirties two years ago! Do you even remember being thirty?” Raven shoots back, and Logan narrows his eyes at her.
“Can we just get this tequila shot over with?” Charles interrupts before Raven and Logan can start bickering. He licks at the rim of the shot glass and knocks back the drink. He tries not to gag as he hurriedly shoves the lime wedge into his mouth to chase the taste away. “Ugh. No more tequila.”
“I personally vote more tequila,” Raven says after she finishes her shot. They take a momentary break when the bar announces the karaoke machine is set up and ready to go, and then Raven is volunteering and goes first. Somewhere along the way from the table to the front she shifts into a tall, thin brunette. She nails her song in a voice that’s powerful and has a range much lower than she herself has, and walks back to raucous applause. Charles complains about her cheating (“It’s not as embarrassing if you don’t do it as yourself, Raven!”), but she doesn’t listen and insists they drink more over Charles’ annoyance.
“I’ll go grab something for you guys,” Hank offers and doesn’t let anyone reply before he’s out of his seat and gone.
Raven watches him go, then turns to Charles and Logan. “He totally has the hots for that Angel girl. He’s never offered to grab drinks for us.”
Charles bursts out laughing. “I don’t even think Hank likes girls, truthfully.”
“I’ve barely been around the guy, but I agree with Chuck on this one,” Logan says.
“Well, I’ll tell you you were dead wrong for telling him he’s too old for the girl,” she accuses Charles.
“She just looks very small and young! She practically seems like a child to me, okay?” He says with a sheepish look.
Raven morphs into an older man, and Charles knows it’s her taking an insulting crack at what he could look like in several years’ time. It’s still her voice when she says, “I get it, everyone would seem like a child to me if I looked like this.”
Charles’ hand lifts to his wavy brown hair in horror. “I wouldn’t be bald.”
She shifts back into her blue self and shrugs. “Never say never.”
“Here you go,” Hank says and deposits three plastic cups of generously poured pink liquid on the table. Charles peers at them dubiously.
“What’s this now?” He asks, and Hank tilts his head.
“I honestly don’t know. I told my friend up there to surprise me.”
Logan picks up a cup and downs it. He licks at his lips as he thinks for a second. “Probably a Johnny Vegas.”
“A what?” Charles frowns just as Raven crows.
“More tequila! Cheers.” She knocks her cup against his and drinks. Not wanting to be left behind, Charles follows. He screws his face up as he gets the liquid down.
“Et tu, Hank? Tequila is not good for me. I become an uncivilized member of society.”
Hank sips at his water through a straw. “Sorry. I won’t get any more rounds.”
Logan’s phone starts vibrating on the table, and he looks at the screen before picking it up. “It’s Anna-Marie. Charles, you get the next one.” He leaves to answer the call, and Charles pouts.
“Why me? I’m the one you’re all supposed to be pampering,” he whines.
“I mean, if you want me to go get it instead…” Raven trails off, already shifting to stand, and Charles grabs her arm. Charles can see that her eyes are two different colors now, and that makes him feel a little better of his own slipping control. He’s not sure when he became such a lightweight.
“Absolutely not. You’ll bring me back a cup of straight tequila.” He jumps off the chair and starts taking a few steps, before he realizes he is much drunker than he thought. The room spins a little, and Charles takes a deep breath, a breathy laugh slipping out his mouth. He makes it to the bar easily enough, and leans against it. He can see Angel helping a group of girls that are much drunker than Charles is, and turns his head the other way.
Charles makes eye contact with a tall, lean man, and the world seems to slow down and fade away for just a second. He has intense eyes that feel like they burn through Charles, and for a moment Charles understands how intimate telepathy can feel. It’s almost as if the man is staring directly into Charles’ soul, his deepest wants and fears.
The man drifts forward so that he’s standing in front of Charles across the bar. He leans in to make himself heard over the music. “What can I get for you?”
Charles is at a loss for words for a moment, before he gives himself the tiniest shake. “Can I get three lemondrops please?”
The man smirks and tilts his head. “Lemondrops? Only 21-year-olds and kids with fakes get those. I think I’ll need to see some ID.”
“ID?” Charles repeats, and he snorts. He confirms he’s drunker than he thought he was when he coyly says, “Flatterer. I know you don’t actually need to see it, you can see all these gray strands from a mile away.” He’s fishing in his pocket for his wallet anyway, and pulls out his license facing the man to hand it over.
Instead of taking it from his hand, the man grabs Charles’ wrist gently and pulls it close to his face, leaning in further. It makes Charles’ mouth go dry, and the humor in his face fades out to blank shock. His telepathy is always stronger with physical contact, and he quickly pulls it all the way into himself to avoid accidentally getting a full rundown of the man’s entire life. The world’s thoughts cease around him, and it somehow makes the moment feel that much more intense with the deafening quiet, despite the music playing. The man’s cologne seems to swirl around Charles, and it’s something that smells delicious and manly.
He finally releases Charles’ wrist, and it snaps Charles out of his strange reverie. He swallows roughly and avoids the man’s eyes as he shoves his license into his wallet. “Thank you, Charles.”
Hearing his name startles him enough that he looks up, bewildered, and it makes the smirk return to the man’s face.
“Your ID,” he explains.
“Oh! Right.” Charles laughs embarrassedly. His face feels hot, and he has a feeling his cheeks are flushed, not just due to the alcohol’s effect. “Can I get– Can I also have a water?”
“Of course.” The man steps away to get his drinks together, and Charles feels like he can finally breathe. He glances behind his shoulder at the table, and sees Raven, Logan, and Hank all watching him with keen eyes. Raven makes a confused face at him, and Charles turns back around before he starts blushing again.
The bartender is standing there, staring at Charles intently as he sticks a lemon on the rim of the glasses. “Thanks,” Charles says, voice unsteady.
“Careful, it’s sticky,” the man says. “Can I ask what’s the occasion? I overheard your friend talking to another bartender that you guys are celebrating.”
Charles smiles self-deprecatingly. “I don’t know if we’re necessarily celebrating, but I just got divorced.”
The man’s lips quirk up ever so slightly. He looks pleasantly surprised. “You don’t say. Well, tell you what, this round’s on me, if you let me join you with a shot myself.”
And, really, it’s bad etiquette to turn down free alcohol. “I won’t say no to that.” Charles pushes one of the already-prepared lemon drops forward. “What’s your name?”
“Erik,” is the reply, and Charles clinks his glass against the one offered.
“Cheers, Erik,” Charles says. He drags his tongue across the rim of the glass, and almost chokes on his drink when he notices Erik following the moment with sharp eyes. He even forgets about the lemon slice.
Charles knows he’s not ugly. When you navigate the world as a telepath, you realize how common it is for a passerby to lay eyes on you and think something as pure as he’s cute to something as filthy as he looks like he fucks well and imagine said activity with graphic detail. It’s just been a long, long time since Charles heard thoughts like that while single. When he was married, it was easy to tune them out. Charles finds it’s a little more difficult to ignore any sort of interest taken in him when Moira’s out of the picture.
Especially when such a handsome stranger is practically undressing him with his eyes.
“I’m sorry, am I making you nervous?” Erik asks, amused.
“No, not at all,” Charles lies. Erik’s grin widens and Charles knows he saw right through it. “Are you going to have that shot?”
Erik doesn’t take his eyes off Charles as he licks the rim and drinks in one movement. “I’ll make another two for you to take back to your friends.” He backs off, and again Charles feels like he can think. He reaches out to Raven with his telepathy, sending an apologetic feeling and saying he’ll be there with drinks soon.
Angel stops near Charles, and points at him to get his attention. “What can I get you?”
“Oh, Erik’s helping me already, thank you,” Charles says as he gestures over to Erik. “Although, do you mind getting me a water?” She quickly fills a cup and sets it on the bartop, and Charles grabs it to gulp some water down. “Thank you,” he repeats after.
She smiles slightly at him and is gone to help the next person. Erik returns then, setting the other two shots in front of Charles. “Do you want help getting this all to your table?”
“No!” Charles says quickly, terrified of Raven seeing how flustered he is over the cute bartender, then realizes he might’ve sounded rude, so he amends by saying, “Very kind of you to offer, I’ll just do two trips.” He balances the three shot glasses in his hands and heads to his friends before Erik can say anything else. Raven immediately accosts him with questions.
“What took you so long? I probably sobered up already in the time it took you to get here.” The way her words are slurring together suggests otherwise.
“Sorry, so sorry. It was busy up there.”
Raven raises her eyebrows. “It didn’t seem that busy.”
“I actually have to go back and get my water, so I’ll be right back. You can have two of these to make up for me taking so long.” That appeases Raven, and Charles hurries back for his water. Erik is still hovering near it. Charles flashes him a quick smile as he grabs the cup and turns to go, but then he hesitates. He slowly turns back, and then he’s crowding close to the bar again. “Thank you for the free drink.”
Erik positively lights up at Charles initiating conversation. He comes closer, and Charles is grateful there’s something in between them, because he’s not sure he could handle Erik any nearer than he is right now. “You’re very welcome. Are you having a good night so far?”
Charles nods. “I actually haven’t been to a dive bar in years. Not since my twenties. They’re charming, in their own way, don’t you think?”
Erik snorts. “Try working in one every weekend, and let me know how you feel about them then.”
Charles gives him a sympathetic wince. “That bad?”
“It pays my bills, and that’s what matters,” Erik says. “I don’t mind making drinks at all, that part's fun, but dealing with drunk people night after night can get old sometimes.”
“Well, maybe I should leave you alone then. I’m the least sober I’ve been in ages,” Charles chuckles, and he expects Erik to join in and jokingly agree, but Erik only gives him a cocky, sultry smile.
“I’m quite enjoying myself with you keeping me company, actually,” he says. Before he can capitalize on the moment and fluster Charles though, he moves the conversation along. “Besides, it’s pretty slow tonight, and you’re helping the last ten minutes of my shift go quickly.”
Charles isn’t sure what the hell possesses him to say, “Oh, you should join us after! For a drink or two.” He’s immediately horrified with himself, and wants to take it all back because he doesn’t want to make this perfectly handsome gentleman think he’s hitting on him or something – god, that must be so awkward for bartenders – but Erik doesn’t let him.
“I think I will.” Someone walks up to the bar then, and Erik jerks his head towards them minutely. “I’ll help this guy and be over in a bit, alright?”
Charles nods, head moving so quickly it makes him dizzy, and he leaves Erik to it. He drinks more water on his trek back. Raven is sloshed this time, and she’s draped across Logan.
“What the hell happened to her?” Charles asks.
“Charles!” Raven squeals, and throws her arms around his neck. He grunts as he suddenly bears all her weight. “I finished Logan’s beer and all the shots. You took forever.”
He looks over her arm to see there’s still a shot left on the table. “Not all the shots,” he says, and drinks it before she can make a grab at it.
“I should take her home,” Hank sighs. “She’ll throw up soon if she drinks anymore.”
“I should also get to Anna-Marie soon,” Logan says. He eyes Charles as he adds, “Who’s that guy you were talking to at the bar? You got a friend working here too?”
Charles feels his face heat up as he tries to reply as casually as he can, “Just a bartender I made friends with. I’ll just stay and get a taxi back home. He’s gonna have a drink with me.”
Hank cranes his neck to look at the bar. “Which one? That tall one?”
“Yes, that one, stop being so obvious,” Charles hisses, reaching over to yank him back down.
Logan leers at him. “Getting drunk and hooking up with a stranger in the same night? They grow up so fast.”
“We are not hooking up, we’re having a drink.” Charles nudges Raven back into her chair. “Do you need water, Raven?”
“I need bourbon,” she hiccups.
“Yeah, she’s definitely gotta go home.” Hank stands and helps Raven up. “Thanks for inviting me out, guys.”
Charles smiles at him. “Thanks for coming. And for taking my sister home. Drive safe.”
Raven frowns. “Where we goin’?”
“I’m taking you home,” Hank tells her. She nods once, and then she’s throwing her arms around Charles’ neck again.
“Charles, love you, bud. Love you so much.” He’s not sober enough to balance both himself and Raven and they stumble back. Logan reaches out to right him.
“I love you too. Good luck with the hangover tomorrow.” He kisses her cheek, and Hank starts to lead her to the exit.
“I gotta go too, Chuck.” Logan claps Charles roughly on the shoulder, which is his version of an affectionate goodbye. “Anna-Marie is at home and she might sneak out soon if I’m gone much longer.”
“Thanks for making me come out tonight,” Charles says. “I had fun.”
Logan tosses something in a short arc in the air, and Charles catches it. It’s a condom. Logan tacks on the thought, you be safe tonight.
Charles glares at him and quickly slips it in his pocket before anyone can see it. “I take it back. You’re the worst.”
“You know it,” Logan snickers, then he leaves too. Charles slides back into his stool, and takes another sip of his water. He’s not alone for long, because Erik joins him with a beer and three shots.
“Hi,” Charles says, a little eagerly and very breathlessly. Erik smiles.
“Hi,” he echoes.
It’s ridiculously attractive, and for absolutely no reason. Charles motions to the drinks. “I’m good on those, I’ve had way too much tonight.”
“They’re for me to catch up with you,” Erik replies. He drinks the shots all in rapid succession, and even that too is attractive somehow. Charles can’t help but watch the long column of Erik’s throat when he throws his head back to get them down. He gets the random urge to bury his face in the crook of it.
When Erik sets the last glass down, he looks over at Charles. “So,” he begins. Charles tilts his head. “Freshly divorced, huh?”
Charles looks away. “Um. Yes.”
“Sorry, we don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s not that.” Charles worries at his lower lip and fidgets with his silver watch. “I’m just… still wrapping my head around it all. I just got the finalized divorce papers before coming here.”
Erik’s eyes had been tracking Charles’ fingers drift across his metal watch band, but jump up to his face as he hears the end of the sentence. “Shit. That’s rough. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. Truly. We were– it was for the best that it ended. We weren’t all that happy together.”
“It was for the best and you weren't very happy, yet you don’t know whether to celebrate it ending or not,” Erik muses.
“Yes, exactly,” Charles laughs and buries his face in his hands. “I’m kind of a mess. It’s been a crazy few months.”
“You also said you don’t come to bars like these often. Don’t tell me you’re leaning into drinking because you’re a mess.” Erik keeps his tone light, but it still sounds somewhat reprimanding.
“Oh, god no. I don’t– I used to drink a lot, but I hadn’t had this much in years. I wasn’t even going to come here tonight originally. My friend took me out at the risk of me ‘wasting’ a Friday night in my apartment alone.”
“How do you usually spend your Friday nights?” Erik asks, taking a sip from his beer.
Charles grimaces. “I promise you, you’ll fall asleep if I start telling you what my Friday nights usually consist of. I’m–sort of… I’m kind of boring.”
Erik says nothing for a moment, gazing at Charles with his stunning, intense grey eyes. He eventually murmurs, “I completely disagree, Charles.”
Just like that, all the strange, electrifying sensations from before rush into Charles’ body. He feels off-kilter, and his first instinct is to reach for his water to distract himself and recalibrate. As he moves towards it, he goes too quickly, and then his hand is knocking against Erik’s beer and spilling all across the table, down onto Erik’s shirt and pants.
“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Charles gasps, horrified. Erik had shrunk back when the liquid hit, but then he’s waving Charles off.
“Don’t worry, it’s wash day tomorrow anyway,” he jokes. Charles looks over to the napkin dispenser and starts yanking out as many as he can.
“I’m still so sorry, I didn’t mean to–” He moves to pat dry Erik’s clothes. “I’m not usually that clumsy, I don’t know what happened…” He trails off as he starts to realize what he’s doing, and he slows to a stop. He’s got his hands all over Erik’s chest and torso, leaning all the way into his personal space. Erik is very still under his ministrations.
Charles looks up through his eyelashes and his eyes lock onto Erik’s, who’s looking at him so intensely it makes Charles feel a little weak. He can almost hear his own heartbeat in his ears. An agonizingly long second passes. Charles realizes he still hasn’t moved away and starts to pull back, but then Erik’s hands come up to close around his wrists. His touch feels searing hot on Charles’ skin, and it’s relaxed enough that Charles could break out of it easily.
Charles doesn’t move.
Erik’s eyes dart down to Charles’ lips, and a bolt of arousal courses through Charles. He still hasn’t relaxed his telepathy since the first time Erik touched him, and he’s tempted now to look into Erik’s thoughts, just to know what he’s thinking.
“If you don’t want this, now’s the time to tell me,” Erik says roughly, just barely loud enough for Charles to hear over the music. Charles doesn’t say anything, only staring into Erik’s eyes, and Erik slowly leans in. He gives Charles more than enough time to move away, but Charles finds that he’s never wanted someone to kiss him more. His eyes flutter shut when Erik comes so close that his lips tingle, and then Erik’s lips are finally brushing over his own.
Charles hadn’t “made out” with anyone in easily over five years. The first sign of his marriage’s impending doom was probably the fact that he and Moira had traded in any sort of passionate kissing for a peck instead, and usually only when saying hello/good morning and goodbye/good night.
Kissing Erik is utterly titillating. He’s gentle at first, hand coming up to cup Charles’ cheek, and just that is enough to make Charles feel a way he can’t even put into words. Then the contact becomes more so to keep Charles in place when Erik deepens the kiss, tongue coming out to swipe at Charles’ bottom lip, and Charles doesn’t hesitate even for a moment when he parts his mouth to allow Erik in.
Erik never speeds up, keeping the pace slow and languid. Charles had had many messy, downright vulgar kisses in his much younger years, but he’s forty-four now, and it had been such a long time that he feels almost inexperienced again. He feels like he can only hang on for dear life and hope Erik is enjoying himself as much as Charles is. He exhales a light whine into Erik’s mouth, and Erik shifts, pulling Charles closer by wrapping his free arm around Charles’ waist. He drops his head down to place a kiss on Charles’ pulse point.
Charles closes his hands into fists around the fabric of Erik’s shirt, and notices belatedly he’s actually trembling. He feels hot all over, and he’s becoming acutely aware of the ache between his legs.
“Come home with me,” Erik says in his ear. “I’ll make it worth your time.”
And Charles could just about cry from happiness, thinks yesgodthankyouthankyouhallelujah even though he’s not a believer of any religion. He moves his head up and down in tiny little rapid nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, I– let’s go.”