![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nekosmuseFic: Tessellation (19/25ish)
Fandom: XMFC (fusion with comic-canon and 1990s animated series)
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: NC-17
Back to chapter 18
Charles was a saint. There was really no other explanation. Erik could think of no other reason why he would be sitting patiently--calmly, serenely even--in the middle of their bathroom, allowing Linda to shave his head.
Come to think it of it, Erik could think of no other reason Charles would tolerate his person, or put up with the things he did on a semi-regular basis--like crashing Charles' lunch dates or getting into arguments with Charles' best friend.
"I'm so sorry," Hank was saying, flipping through the reams of blueprints he had brought with him to Charles and Erik's rooms. "I honestly don't know why it's not working. Your hair wasn't a problem before."
Charles laughed. "Please, you've been trying to convince me to shave my head for years." He sounded amused--completely at ease with the situation--but Erik didn't miss the slightly alarmed look he cast in Erik's direction.
Promise me you won't hate it, he said into Erik's mind.
Erik pushed himself off the counter and crossed to Charles' side. When he got there, Linda hesitated in her cutting, lowering the clippers at Erik's gesture. Charles wasn't bald yet, but his hair was shorn--buzzed down to the quick in a style reminiscent of the many soldiers Erik had killed. Strangely enough, the style on Charles just made him look impossibly young. Erik ran a hand over the stubble, marvelling at its softness.
"I want to do the rest," he said, only then remembering that they weren't alone. Charles coloured--prettily, Erik thought. The tips of his ears were visible now and stained a lovely scarlet colour. His eyes were more visible, too; bright orbs of blue that seemed to take over his entire face.
Dimly, Erik registered that he was still petting Charles' head.
"Okay, maybe we should just..." Hank was saying. He very purposely didn't look at either Charles or Erik as he moved to Linda's side, retrieving the clippers from her hands and placing them on the counter, then gently steering her from the room by her elbow. The door fell shut behind them.
"You know they both think we're absolute freaks now. Well, Hank does; Linda was a little intrigued by it. Do you really want to shave my head?"
Erik continued to run his fingers over Charles' head, tracing the shape of his skull. He had a nice skull, Erik thought; well-shaped and lacking any significant anomalies. He'd probably look fantastic bald. Erik tried to picture it; tried to imagine what it would be like guiding a razor over Charles' head with his powers. He shivered.
"Yes, I think I really, really do."
Charles' eyebrows lifted at that, but he nodded, acceding Erik's wishes.
And oh, God, he had never done something like this before. He had no idea where to start. It couldn't be any harder than shaving--they couldn't use the clippers, too impersonal, not nearly a close enough shave. No, he would need shaving foam and a straight razor. Erik had those things; used them every morning.
Reluctantly, he removed his hand from Charles' head and crossed back to the counter. He retrieved a washcloth, wet it thoroughly and handed it to Charles.
"Get your head wet," he said, retrieving foam and his razor next.
He tested the edge of the blade on a finger and found it wanting. A tiny tendril of his power solved that problem, the blade impossibly sharp when he was done. He tested it again, the blade coming away bloody.
It was amazing, he thought, turning back to Charles, the trust this man extended him. Erik hadn't thought it possible to so thoroughly trust another, but here Charles was, sitting meekly, with his head bent forward, neck exposed, trusting Erik--trusting Magneto--with a razor-sharp blade. And this after everything that had happened between them--after all the times Erik had come precariously close to destroying everything they had with no more than a misplaced word or an idiotic gesture. How he had ever thought not to extend that same trust to Charles, who was clearly deserving; far more deserving than Erik would ever be.
Erik sprayed some foam into the palm of his hand and used two fingers to work it into a thick lather. He then transferred it to Charles' head, taking care to work it deep into Charles' skin. He covered the back half of Charles' head first, trails of foamy white leading all the way down his neck.
"Are you ready?" he asked when he was done.
"Ready," Charles said--not a hint of waver in his tone. Erik's heart fluttered nervously.
He gestured with his hand and brought the blade from its place on the counter, letting it hover over Charles' head until Erik was certain the angle was right. Then he sent it down, one clean stroke that cleaned a line from just below the crown of Charles' head to the first knot of his spine. Charles shivered, but otherwise remained motionless.
Erik cleaned the blade, and then did it again, this time moving right; one line after another until he reached Charles' ear. He returned to his starting point and moved in the other direction. When he had finished, he re-wet Charles' washcloth and cleaned off the residual foam. Now Charles had a square-patched bald spot that sat between his ears and reached almost to the top of his head.
Erik moved around to Charles' front and dragged two fingers across Charles' cheek, slipping them down beneath Charles' chin to tilt his head. Charles blinked up at him, pupils blown wide. Erik bit his lip at the sight. He only then realized his cock was throbbing painfully within the confines of his trousers.
He ignored it, wetting the top of Charles' head this time and starting the process anew.
Despite the blade slipping in and out of Charles' line of view, Charles never took his eyes from Erik's face. He watched with eyes open, completely trusting--so much so that Erik had to struggle to keep his attention on what he was doing. He finished the top of Charles' head and then moved to the sides. When he had finished, not a single nick marred Charles' perfect skin. Erik wet a new washcloth this time and used it to clean Charles' head entirely. He slid his fingers against wet skin, seeking places he might have missed. He found none, so he stepped back to admire his handiwork.
And Charles bald--oh, Charles bald--was a sight to behold. It seemed impossible that Charles would look both helplessly innocent and fiercely strong, and yet, Charles did. He sat perfectly still, back straight, head held high, meeting Erik's gaze--pupils still blown with lust. Charles bald was kingly and otherworldly at the same time. Charles bald was in want of protection and yet capable of tearing apart whole worlds. The dichotomy of it made Erik's knees weak. He reached a hand to Charles' head, running his fingertips across the drying skin, tracing them down the line of Charles' jaw, then across to Charles' lips, thumb pressing inside.
I'd ask if it looked alright, but I think I already know the answer, Charles said into his mind, even as he pulled Erik's thumb--the one he'd cut on the blade earlier, the cut not yet clotted--into his mouth and sucked.
Erik couldn't help the stifled groan that escaped his lips. He let out another when Charles took the pad of his thumb between his teeth and pressed firmly. Had he been paying attention, he might have heard the scurry of feet moving away from the bathroom door, followed by the outside door falling shut.
Charles released his thumb and licked at too red lips. Erik watched, transfixed.
He had no idea where this was heading until Charles glanced--somewhat shyly--at Erik's crotch. It occurred to Erik then that Charles in his chair was probably the perfect height for this. His cock twitched at the thought, Erik bringing the heel of his hand to press against it. Charles' eyes fell shut. Had Erik ever noticed the length of his eyelashes before? They seemed impossibly long.
When Charles opened his eyes--eyelashes sweeping up, impossible not to notice now--they were all pupil, his face flushed and his lips damp. When he swallowed, Erik saw it in his temples. He slid his hands back along Charles' head just as Charles reached trembling hands towards Erik's belt buckle.
For one brief, hysterical moment, Erik stared in disbelief, not truly believing that Charles was going to do this--here of all places, and now of all times--but then Charles deftly released the clasp and slid the belt apart. A flick of his thumb released Erik's button. He glanced up and caught Erik's eye before slowly lowering Erik's zipper. Erik remained frozen, feeling Charles' mind intertwine with his own.
Erik licked his lips and stared into Charles' eyes, hissing slightly when Charles finally pulled his cock free, the air in the bathroom cooler than he'd expected. Charles' fingers, where they rested like brands, were warm--impossibly warm.
"Are you really going to...?" Erik asked at the same time that Charles leaned forward, briefly taking control of Erik's body to bring him forward so that they met somewhere in the middle.
The second Erik had control again, his fingers tightened on Charles' head--and the lack of hair meant he had nothing to hold on to, fingers scrabbling uselessly until he settled on merely holding Charles by the back of the head. Charles smiled, licked his lips, and then brought his tongue to the tip of Erik's cock.
His eyes fell shut again as he pressed his tongue--large and wet--into the slit of Erik's penis. Erik bucked forward, momentarily stilling until a thought from Charles told him he needn't. Charles tipped his head, his tongue sliding along Erik's underside. He laved the space where Erik's circumcise scar sat in a knotted ring, and then used his tongue to coax Erik's cock fully into his mouth, lips stretching wide to accommodate Erik's width.
Charles moaned. Erik gave an experimental thrust.
Come on, Erik, you can do better than that, Charles said into his mind, and if Charles was still that coherent, then yes, yes he could.
He brought a hand away from Charles' head, keeping him positioned with the one still resting on the back of his skull, and brought his fingers to Charles' mouth. He traced the place where Charles' lips stretched around his cock. His fingers came away damp with saliva. He pulled back, keeping his fingers pressed to the thin sliver of space between Charles' mouth and his dick. He thrust back in.
Charles' hand, which had been holding the base of Erik's cock, came down to cradle his balls, thumb rubbing into the space between them, even as his middle finger reached back, pressing into Erik's perineum. Erik circled his hips, grinding further into the heat of Charles' mouth. Charles' cheeks hollowed as he sucked, the sound of his slurping obscenely loud in the small room. Erik moaned, and then pulled back.
Only to thrust forward again, quicker this time, setting a steady pace of in and out, in and out, Charles keeping up like he was born to do exactly this. He felt Charles' amusement at the thought. Smug bastard, he directed at Charles, and then thrust a little harder just to teach him a lesson. Charles' hand scrambled to his lap and he fumbled hurriedly with his pants.
His cock, when he pulled it free, wasn't entirely hard, but its tip was wet with precome. Charles retrieved one of the discarded washcloths from the counter--a feat that almost sent them tumbling onto their sides until Erik realized what it was he wanted and shifted to accommodate--and placed it between his cock and his clothes. He let his hand curl loosely around it then, the full of his attention coming back to Erik.
Who had been steadily fucking Charles' mouth, overcome by heat and the velvety smooth texture of Charles' wicked, wicked tongue. Charles sudden presence in his head--the sudden awareness of his arousal--was almost enough to send Erik over the edge. If it had been their first time, he probably would have fallen, but since it wasn't, he merely stuttered a little, losing his rhythm until Charles nudged him with his mind, Erik growling somewhat fiercely at the instruction.
He had both hands back behind Charles' head now, and had set up a steady rhythm; Charles sucking, rolling his balls, tongue snaking patterns along the underside of Erik's cock as Erik slid in and out, eyes fixed on the sight of his cock pushing past Charles' lips.
He could feel his orgasm building long before he was ready--oh, how he wanted this to last forever. It was by far the most leisurely sex they'd had--which made no sense at all, save to his lust-addled brain, so Erik simply went with it. He pulled almost all the way out and then thrust back in, doing it again a second time at the same time that Charles reached back, fingertips brushing against Erik's hole. Erik stuttered a little at the sensation, but a calming wave from Charles told him he would go no further, so Erik sank back into Charles' mouth even as Charles brushed against the tight ring of muscles around his anus.
It felt less strange--less invasive--the second time Charles did it, so that by the time Charles had worked up to rubbing steady circles without ever penetrating, Erik was panting and shaking, balls drawing tight, his thrusts completely erratic as he struggled towards his completion.
He pulled back until Charles' mouth was stretched just around the head of his cock, and then thrust back in, just as Charles applied the slightest bit of pressure to his hole, the sensation enough to send him over the edge, Erik coming into Charles' mouth, unable to stop himself--unwilling, if he was honest. His entire body tensed as his back arched, cock straining forward, filling Charles' mouth until Erik half expected Charles to choke. He didn't, swallowing Erik's semen gracefully, despite some of it dribbling out of the side of his mouth and then spilling over his chin. Erik's body gave a final twitch at the sight, cock pulsing out a few final drops before he weakly pulled away, Charles letting his mouth go slack so that Erik fell out with a wet pop.
When he glanced down into Charles' lap, there was a small pool of semen staining the washcloth. Charles licked his lips.
"Fuck," Erik said, because there really wasn't anything else to say--and if there was, he certainly wasn't coherent enough to say it.
He stumbled back until he caught himself on the counter, watching, dazed, as Charles brought a hand to his chin to catch the stray tendril of Erik's come. He wiped it away with his thumb and then brought it to his mouth, moist tongue licking his thumb clean.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Erik asked. Charles glanced up and chuckled.
"Hardly that," he said, even as he began the steady process of cleaning himself off and tucking himself away. He seemed slightly unfocused. Erik didn't blame him. If he had shared even half of that, then it was still the best blowjob of Erik's life--which, granted, wasn't saying much, considering how few blowjobs Erik had received.
It was only after Charles was cleaned and tucked away that he ran hands over his head, expression becoming a little nervous. He glanced up and met Erik's eye, who nodded briefly and then slid over on the counter, making room for Charles to look in the mirror. His eyebrows shot skyward.
"Oh," he said.
Erik realized then that his cock was still hanging out--still wet with Charles' saliva. He used a Charles' discarded washcloth to clean himself off and then tucked himself away, doing his best to smooth the wrinkles from his clothes. When he was done he turned to meet Charles' eyes in the mirror.
"It really does suit you," Erik said, only then catching sight of himself. He looked thoroughly fucked--bottom lip red from where he'd been biting it, cheeks stained pink, hairline damp with sweat. His cock was softening, but its outline was still obvious in his pants, which had creases that pulled across his crotch from where the material had bunched when Charles had tugged them open.
Charles looked just as despoiled--his colour high, his clothes wrinkled and his lips puffy and swollen. There was absolutely no way anyone could look at them and not know exactly what they'd been up to.
That and the entire bathroom reeked of sex.
Charles was still admiring his newly shaved head, turning his head to catch every angle while running his fingers steadily across his skull.
"It's not terrible, is it?" he said. Erik stepped forward and ran a hand over the top of Charles' head.
"It's really not."
"Well, then, I supposed that means we're done here," Charles said, but he hesitated. Erik, who was coming to know Charles' expressions well, immediately bowed his head.
"I'll give you a moment," he said, grabbing his helmet from where he'd set it on the counter when they'd first arrived, tucking it under his arm.
He stepped around the pile of hair that covered the bathroom floor, brushing his clothes free of any that might have transferred, and then stepped out into the main room. Hank and Linda were nowhere to be seen and it occurred to Erik then that they had been locked in the bathroom for the better part of half an hour.
He found Hank and Linda outside in the hall, sitting side by side against the wall, Hank showing Linda several of his blueprints, Linda nodding despite her obvious incomprehension. They glanced up when Erik stepped out the door.
Hank's eyes grew wide, and he immediately glanced away, cheeks flushing violet. The beginnings of a smirk tugged at Linda's mouth.
"Charles will be a minute," Erik said, very purposely avoiding either of their gazes. What he and Charles did behind closed doors was none of their business.
Five minutes of awkward silence passed before Charles emerged, looking slightly less rumpled. He smiled brightly at Hank and Linda, glanced once in Erik's direction, and then started them back to Cerebro.
Mystique met them outside the doors.
She arched an eyebrow at the sight of Charles' hair--or lack thereof--but Charles merely smiled, ran a hand over his head and said in his typical, self-depreciating fashion, "It'll grow back."
Mystique nodded, but she looked skeptical. She stepped aside to let Charles into the room; who went straight to Cerebro's interface and picked up the helmet from where he'd discarded it after it had failed to pick up his brain waves the first time.
"We should have a better connection now," Hank said, helping Charles fit the helmet to his head. "Although, we may need to wet your head." Erik watched as Charles flushed at that, Hank obviously confused by his reaction. Wisely, he didn't comment.
This helmet looked vastly different from its counterpart back in Westchester. All of its components were exposed, wires and circuitry clustered around its exterior like some strange alien device. It made Charles look like a lab rat.
Hank, who had moved over to the control panel now that Charles was set up, hummed contentedly, obviously liking whatever readout he was receiving.
"This isn't designed to project, so we won't be able to see what you're doing, but I think you're familiar enough with the process to let us know if anything seems off," he said to Charles, even as he gestured to Mystique who immediately moved towards the door.
Before she could seal it shut--leaving only the four of them inside; Linda having returned to her rooms--Emma Frost appeared in the doorway. Erik immediately tensed. It took effort to stamp down the suspicion and jealousy that flared upon spotting her--no matter what he had told Charles, he would probably never be entirely comfortable having her and Charles in the same room together.
To his surprise, it was him she sought out, Emma making eye contact briefly before she nodded out the door.
"Now?" Erik asked, rather loudly. It drew every eye in the room--save Charles, who was apparently lost to whatever preparations he tended to make before Cerebro initiated. Hank raised a questioning eyebrow.
"This is only a preliminary test. We won't be doing much more than ensuring it works. We don't need you," he said, but Erik had no particular interest in leaving Charles until he was certain this Cerebro was safe.
"Of course it's safe, Erik. There's nothing you can do at the moment anyway," Charles said, surprising Erik, because he hadn't thought Charles was listening.
He turned to make eye contact, pleased to note that Charles was ignoring Emma in favour of staring at him.
"Fine, but if anything feels even the slightest bit off, you are to stop, do you understand?" Charles smiled, and then turned back to face Hank, nodded briefly, and closed his eyes.
Erik didn't wait to see what would happen--Cerebro wouldn't work with the door open anyway. He crossed the walkway to follow Emma from the room, Erik using his power to close and seal Cerebro's door behind him.
"This had better be important," Erik said.
"Unfortunately, it is," Emma replied, but she didn't say anything else, leading Erik instead to his office.
She didn't speak again until they were safely inside, waiting for Erik to close and lock the door before opening her mouth. She sat on the edge of Erik's desk, crossing her legs neatly, her hands folding into her lap.
"Small problem with Charles' plan," she said. Erik, who was halfway to claiming one of the chairs that faced his desk, sank heavily down into it.
"What kind of problem?"
"First, the good news; we are entitled to petition for Stryker's arrest, and we can apply to host his trial. They aren't guarantees, but my contact seemed to think we have a strong enough case to win both. The bad news; the petitioning process usually takes six months, but things are so backlogged right now that we're probably looking at upwards of a year.
Erik felt the colour drain from his face. A year was impossible; they'd be collared and enslaved, without recourse within the year. If Stryker wasn't stopped soon, stopping him would require a war, and then only if enough humans sided with the mutants--who would be utterly useless, collared as they were, and maybe even fighting for the wrong side. No, a year was impossible.
"There is a loophole," Emma said, and Erik clung fiercely to the brief flare of hope those words brought.
"What is it?" he demanded.
"Stryker's already broken our laws, so if we can get him on Genoshian soil, then we can arrest him and detain him until the UN paperwork clears."
"Wouldn't we have grounds to simply prosecute him without UN backing then?" Erik asked. Emma shook her head.
"We could, but Charles is right; without UN backing this becomes nothing more than a side-show peanut gallery. Having a UN sanctioned trial is imperative if we want to make the point we're trying to make."
Erik considered. "So we kidnap Stryker, bring him here, and arrest him; simple."
Emma tutted even as she rolled her eyes. "We need to get him to come here of his own free will, otherwise his lawyers will have him walking within twenty-four hours--and anything we do to countermand it will be seen as a violation of his rights."
Erik scowled. He brought a hand to his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So basically, we're screwed," he said, because there was no way Stryker was going to set foot in Genosha--not until his collars were ready--and then he'd be making an open declaration of war and probably wouldn't care about an arrest warrant.
"What the hell do we do, then?" He knew what his answer would have been six months ago--hell, even six weeks ago. Emma obviously did too.
"We can't leave this any longer. Look, I like Charles as much as you do." Erik glanced up sharply at that. Emma backpedaled. "Sorry, not as much as you do--I certainly don't want to sleep with him if that's what you're worried about--but he's a good guy, and I know he's not on board the whole killing people who get in our way thing, but can you honestly see another option here?"
Erik's heart constricted, because Emma was right; he couldn't. And they had tried--they really had--surely Charles would see that. Surely Charles would see that there was no other option.
The problem was Erik could no longer bring himself to believe that.
"I can't," Erik said. Emma's eyebrows went skyward. "Charles needs to have input on this decision. I can't just make it for him. I can't..."
He was aware he sounded like an idiot--he certainly didn't sound like the ruthless leader of the Brotherhood he had once prided himself on being. Emma's shock was palpable. She stared at Erik in awe.
"God, he really has changed you," she said, but she sounded oddly pleased.
Certainly she was smiling, features softer than Erik had ever seen them. He frowned, not particularly sure how to deal with this Emma.
"All right; Charles it is. You want me to arrange an emergency meeting?" she asked.
Erik nodded. He could think of a dozen people who needed to be invited--and immediately if possible. He provided Emma with a list.
"I'll grab Charles and Mystique, maybe Hank, too, and we'll convene in the boardroom. Say an hour?"
Emma nodded, gracefully sliding off the desk. Erik stood, suddenly finding Emma standing entirely too close. She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed briefly.
"You're a lot more likeable when you're getting laid on a regular basis. Try to keep Charles around," she said. Erik couldn't help but laugh, silently agreeing with her assessment.
He moved aside to let her leave, and then reached up to ring the intercom. Rogue appeared in his doorway a moment later, just as Erik was in the process of removing his helmet--it was strange, but now that Emma seemed less a threat, Erik couldn't find a reason to continue wearing it. Besides, it had been so long since he had last felt like Magneto--and that in itself was strange, but probably Charles' doing as well--that the helmet had begun to feel oddly foreign, like it didn't belong to him at all.
"There's an emergency meeting in the boardroom in one hour. Can you arrange for something light for dinner? About ten people," Erik said. Rogue looked at him like he was crazy--though, yes, he did know how difficult a task that was--but she nodded. "And send the cleaning staff in to clean my bathroom, sooner rather than later." This time Rogue's expression grew incredulous. Erik took pity on her. "Also, I want you to attend. Consider this an official promotion. Jubilee can take over your current role."
Rogue's eyes lit up at that--she smiled brightly, shoulders straightening as she came to attention. In the year that she'd served as Erik's personal assistant, he had known her capable of more--and so had she, complaining loudly and often to anyone who would listen that her skills were being wasted. Still, everyone had to pay their dues.
Before she could say anything--he was half afraid she would begin babbling her thanks, even though it was hardly her style--Erik waved her away. He stepped out of his office a moment later, Rogue already making calls, trying to secure them an evening meal. He left her to it and returned swiftly to Cerebro.
The door was still closed, so Erik hesitated, eventually deciding on rapping his knuckles against it three times, then waiting. Ten--ridiculously long--minutes passed before the door finally slid open.
Mystique poked her head out the door, then stepped back and opened the door the rest of the way, permitting Erik entry.
"Where's your hat?" she said, gesturing to his head. Erik glared.
"Never mind that; I've called an emergency meeting--in about forty minutes from now. How's it going in here?" He'd been gone no more than half an hour, but Charles had told him each test would run approximately twenty minutes. A quick glance in Charles' direction showed Charles smiling brightly, seeming well pleased by whatever Hank was saying. He glanced up, spotted Erik, and waved him over.
"Oh, Erik," he said when Erik reached his side. "It's incredible--I'd forgotten what it was like to extend my telepathy so far. Hank limited the parameters to Genosha, but even that... There are so many mutants here. So many variations and abilities; it's absolutely incredible."
Charles practically radiated contentment. His eyes shone and he gestured as he spoke, hands waving exuberantly. "I did do a sweep for Stryker as part of the test; he's not here, of course." Charles chuckled, Erik joining him a moment later; and wouldn't that have made his life so much easier?
"We're going to extend its range to include the surrounding islands and the eastern coast of Africa. If that goes well, we'll include the entire African continent, but to be honest, I don't think we need to bother--this feels exactly like my Cerebro. I suspect we could expand its range globally and begin our search immediately."
Charles was talking a mile a minute, obviously excited, which made it hard for Erik to interrupt. Eventually he lifted a hand, fitting two fingers against Charles' lips, whatever Charles was saying stuttering to a stop. He blinked at Erik in confusion. Erik found himself momentarily distracted by a vivid memory of just what those lips had been doing not an hour ago.
He shook his head. "You're doing this as slowly as Hank deems necessary, and no arguments, but first we need to take a small break. I've called an emergency meeting; there's a problem."
Charles cocked his head. "Oh," he said as Erik called his conversation with Emma to the forefront of his thoughts, letting Charles see it.
Charles frowned, brow creasing as he considered the problem. Suddenly his features lit up, smile widening across his face. "Actually, that might work quite well," he said, but in lieu of the explanation Erik was expecting, Charles merely added, "We'll need to invite Scott to the meeting."
On to chapter 20
Fandom: XMFC (fusion with comic-canon and 1990s animated series)
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: NC-17
Back to chapter 18
Charles was a saint. There was really no other explanation. Erik could think of no other reason why he would be sitting patiently--calmly, serenely even--in the middle of their bathroom, allowing Linda to shave his head.
Come to think it of it, Erik could think of no other reason Charles would tolerate his person, or put up with the things he did on a semi-regular basis--like crashing Charles' lunch dates or getting into arguments with Charles' best friend.
"I'm so sorry," Hank was saying, flipping through the reams of blueprints he had brought with him to Charles and Erik's rooms. "I honestly don't know why it's not working. Your hair wasn't a problem before."
Charles laughed. "Please, you've been trying to convince me to shave my head for years." He sounded amused--completely at ease with the situation--but Erik didn't miss the slightly alarmed look he cast in Erik's direction.
Promise me you won't hate it, he said into Erik's mind.
Erik pushed himself off the counter and crossed to Charles' side. When he got there, Linda hesitated in her cutting, lowering the clippers at Erik's gesture. Charles wasn't bald yet, but his hair was shorn--buzzed down to the quick in a style reminiscent of the many soldiers Erik had killed. Strangely enough, the style on Charles just made him look impossibly young. Erik ran a hand over the stubble, marvelling at its softness.
"I want to do the rest," he said, only then remembering that they weren't alone. Charles coloured--prettily, Erik thought. The tips of his ears were visible now and stained a lovely scarlet colour. His eyes were more visible, too; bright orbs of blue that seemed to take over his entire face.
Dimly, Erik registered that he was still petting Charles' head.
"Okay, maybe we should just..." Hank was saying. He very purposely didn't look at either Charles or Erik as he moved to Linda's side, retrieving the clippers from her hands and placing them on the counter, then gently steering her from the room by her elbow. The door fell shut behind them.
"You know they both think we're absolute freaks now. Well, Hank does; Linda was a little intrigued by it. Do you really want to shave my head?"
Erik continued to run his fingers over Charles' head, tracing the shape of his skull. He had a nice skull, Erik thought; well-shaped and lacking any significant anomalies. He'd probably look fantastic bald. Erik tried to picture it; tried to imagine what it would be like guiding a razor over Charles' head with his powers. He shivered.
"Yes, I think I really, really do."
Charles' eyebrows lifted at that, but he nodded, acceding Erik's wishes.
And oh, God, he had never done something like this before. He had no idea where to start. It couldn't be any harder than shaving--they couldn't use the clippers, too impersonal, not nearly a close enough shave. No, he would need shaving foam and a straight razor. Erik had those things; used them every morning.
Reluctantly, he removed his hand from Charles' head and crossed back to the counter. He retrieved a washcloth, wet it thoroughly and handed it to Charles.
"Get your head wet," he said, retrieving foam and his razor next.
He tested the edge of the blade on a finger and found it wanting. A tiny tendril of his power solved that problem, the blade impossibly sharp when he was done. He tested it again, the blade coming away bloody.
It was amazing, he thought, turning back to Charles, the trust this man extended him. Erik hadn't thought it possible to so thoroughly trust another, but here Charles was, sitting meekly, with his head bent forward, neck exposed, trusting Erik--trusting Magneto--with a razor-sharp blade. And this after everything that had happened between them--after all the times Erik had come precariously close to destroying everything they had with no more than a misplaced word or an idiotic gesture. How he had ever thought not to extend that same trust to Charles, who was clearly deserving; far more deserving than Erik would ever be.
Erik sprayed some foam into the palm of his hand and used two fingers to work it into a thick lather. He then transferred it to Charles' head, taking care to work it deep into Charles' skin. He covered the back half of Charles' head first, trails of foamy white leading all the way down his neck.
"Are you ready?" he asked when he was done.
"Ready," Charles said--not a hint of waver in his tone. Erik's heart fluttered nervously.
He gestured with his hand and brought the blade from its place on the counter, letting it hover over Charles' head until Erik was certain the angle was right. Then he sent it down, one clean stroke that cleaned a line from just below the crown of Charles' head to the first knot of his spine. Charles shivered, but otherwise remained motionless.
Erik cleaned the blade, and then did it again, this time moving right; one line after another until he reached Charles' ear. He returned to his starting point and moved in the other direction. When he had finished, he re-wet Charles' washcloth and cleaned off the residual foam. Now Charles had a square-patched bald spot that sat between his ears and reached almost to the top of his head.
Erik moved around to Charles' front and dragged two fingers across Charles' cheek, slipping them down beneath Charles' chin to tilt his head. Charles blinked up at him, pupils blown wide. Erik bit his lip at the sight. He only then realized his cock was throbbing painfully within the confines of his trousers.
He ignored it, wetting the top of Charles' head this time and starting the process anew.
Despite the blade slipping in and out of Charles' line of view, Charles never took his eyes from Erik's face. He watched with eyes open, completely trusting--so much so that Erik had to struggle to keep his attention on what he was doing. He finished the top of Charles' head and then moved to the sides. When he had finished, not a single nick marred Charles' perfect skin. Erik wet a new washcloth this time and used it to clean Charles' head entirely. He slid his fingers against wet skin, seeking places he might have missed. He found none, so he stepped back to admire his handiwork.
And Charles bald--oh, Charles bald--was a sight to behold. It seemed impossible that Charles would look both helplessly innocent and fiercely strong, and yet, Charles did. He sat perfectly still, back straight, head held high, meeting Erik's gaze--pupils still blown with lust. Charles bald was kingly and otherworldly at the same time. Charles bald was in want of protection and yet capable of tearing apart whole worlds. The dichotomy of it made Erik's knees weak. He reached a hand to Charles' head, running his fingertips across the drying skin, tracing them down the line of Charles' jaw, then across to Charles' lips, thumb pressing inside.
I'd ask if it looked alright, but I think I already know the answer, Charles said into his mind, even as he pulled Erik's thumb--the one he'd cut on the blade earlier, the cut not yet clotted--into his mouth and sucked.
Erik couldn't help the stifled groan that escaped his lips. He let out another when Charles took the pad of his thumb between his teeth and pressed firmly. Had he been paying attention, he might have heard the scurry of feet moving away from the bathroom door, followed by the outside door falling shut.
Charles released his thumb and licked at too red lips. Erik watched, transfixed.
He had no idea where this was heading until Charles glanced--somewhat shyly--at Erik's crotch. It occurred to Erik then that Charles in his chair was probably the perfect height for this. His cock twitched at the thought, Erik bringing the heel of his hand to press against it. Charles' eyes fell shut. Had Erik ever noticed the length of his eyelashes before? They seemed impossibly long.
When Charles opened his eyes--eyelashes sweeping up, impossible not to notice now--they were all pupil, his face flushed and his lips damp. When he swallowed, Erik saw it in his temples. He slid his hands back along Charles' head just as Charles reached trembling hands towards Erik's belt buckle.
For one brief, hysterical moment, Erik stared in disbelief, not truly believing that Charles was going to do this--here of all places, and now of all times--but then Charles deftly released the clasp and slid the belt apart. A flick of his thumb released Erik's button. He glanced up and caught Erik's eye before slowly lowering Erik's zipper. Erik remained frozen, feeling Charles' mind intertwine with his own.
Erik licked his lips and stared into Charles' eyes, hissing slightly when Charles finally pulled his cock free, the air in the bathroom cooler than he'd expected. Charles' fingers, where they rested like brands, were warm--impossibly warm.
"Are you really going to...?" Erik asked at the same time that Charles leaned forward, briefly taking control of Erik's body to bring him forward so that they met somewhere in the middle.
The second Erik had control again, his fingers tightened on Charles' head--and the lack of hair meant he had nothing to hold on to, fingers scrabbling uselessly until he settled on merely holding Charles by the back of the head. Charles smiled, licked his lips, and then brought his tongue to the tip of Erik's cock.
His eyes fell shut again as he pressed his tongue--large and wet--into the slit of Erik's penis. Erik bucked forward, momentarily stilling until a thought from Charles told him he needn't. Charles tipped his head, his tongue sliding along Erik's underside. He laved the space where Erik's circumcise scar sat in a knotted ring, and then used his tongue to coax Erik's cock fully into his mouth, lips stretching wide to accommodate Erik's width.
Charles moaned. Erik gave an experimental thrust.
Come on, Erik, you can do better than that, Charles said into his mind, and if Charles was still that coherent, then yes, yes he could.
He brought a hand away from Charles' head, keeping him positioned with the one still resting on the back of his skull, and brought his fingers to Charles' mouth. He traced the place where Charles' lips stretched around his cock. His fingers came away damp with saliva. He pulled back, keeping his fingers pressed to the thin sliver of space between Charles' mouth and his dick. He thrust back in.
Charles' hand, which had been holding the base of Erik's cock, came down to cradle his balls, thumb rubbing into the space between them, even as his middle finger reached back, pressing into Erik's perineum. Erik circled his hips, grinding further into the heat of Charles' mouth. Charles' cheeks hollowed as he sucked, the sound of his slurping obscenely loud in the small room. Erik moaned, and then pulled back.
Only to thrust forward again, quicker this time, setting a steady pace of in and out, in and out, Charles keeping up like he was born to do exactly this. He felt Charles' amusement at the thought. Smug bastard, he directed at Charles, and then thrust a little harder just to teach him a lesson. Charles' hand scrambled to his lap and he fumbled hurriedly with his pants.
His cock, when he pulled it free, wasn't entirely hard, but its tip was wet with precome. Charles retrieved one of the discarded washcloths from the counter--a feat that almost sent them tumbling onto their sides until Erik realized what it was he wanted and shifted to accommodate--and placed it between his cock and his clothes. He let his hand curl loosely around it then, the full of his attention coming back to Erik.
Who had been steadily fucking Charles' mouth, overcome by heat and the velvety smooth texture of Charles' wicked, wicked tongue. Charles sudden presence in his head--the sudden awareness of his arousal--was almost enough to send Erik over the edge. If it had been their first time, he probably would have fallen, but since it wasn't, he merely stuttered a little, losing his rhythm until Charles nudged him with his mind, Erik growling somewhat fiercely at the instruction.
He had both hands back behind Charles' head now, and had set up a steady rhythm; Charles sucking, rolling his balls, tongue snaking patterns along the underside of Erik's cock as Erik slid in and out, eyes fixed on the sight of his cock pushing past Charles' lips.
He could feel his orgasm building long before he was ready--oh, how he wanted this to last forever. It was by far the most leisurely sex they'd had--which made no sense at all, save to his lust-addled brain, so Erik simply went with it. He pulled almost all the way out and then thrust back in, doing it again a second time at the same time that Charles reached back, fingertips brushing against Erik's hole. Erik stuttered a little at the sensation, but a calming wave from Charles told him he would go no further, so Erik sank back into Charles' mouth even as Charles brushed against the tight ring of muscles around his anus.
It felt less strange--less invasive--the second time Charles did it, so that by the time Charles had worked up to rubbing steady circles without ever penetrating, Erik was panting and shaking, balls drawing tight, his thrusts completely erratic as he struggled towards his completion.
He pulled back until Charles' mouth was stretched just around the head of his cock, and then thrust back in, just as Charles applied the slightest bit of pressure to his hole, the sensation enough to send him over the edge, Erik coming into Charles' mouth, unable to stop himself--unwilling, if he was honest. His entire body tensed as his back arched, cock straining forward, filling Charles' mouth until Erik half expected Charles to choke. He didn't, swallowing Erik's semen gracefully, despite some of it dribbling out of the side of his mouth and then spilling over his chin. Erik's body gave a final twitch at the sight, cock pulsing out a few final drops before he weakly pulled away, Charles letting his mouth go slack so that Erik fell out with a wet pop.
When he glanced down into Charles' lap, there was a small pool of semen staining the washcloth. Charles licked his lips.
"Fuck," Erik said, because there really wasn't anything else to say--and if there was, he certainly wasn't coherent enough to say it.
He stumbled back until he caught himself on the counter, watching, dazed, as Charles brought a hand to his chin to catch the stray tendril of Erik's come. He wiped it away with his thumb and then brought it to his mouth, moist tongue licking his thumb clean.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Erik asked. Charles glanced up and chuckled.
"Hardly that," he said, even as he began the steady process of cleaning himself off and tucking himself away. He seemed slightly unfocused. Erik didn't blame him. If he had shared even half of that, then it was still the best blowjob of Erik's life--which, granted, wasn't saying much, considering how few blowjobs Erik had received.
It was only after Charles was cleaned and tucked away that he ran hands over his head, expression becoming a little nervous. He glanced up and met Erik's eye, who nodded briefly and then slid over on the counter, making room for Charles to look in the mirror. His eyebrows shot skyward.
"Oh," he said.
Erik realized then that his cock was still hanging out--still wet with Charles' saliva. He used a Charles' discarded washcloth to clean himself off and then tucked himself away, doing his best to smooth the wrinkles from his clothes. When he was done he turned to meet Charles' eyes in the mirror.
"It really does suit you," Erik said, only then catching sight of himself. He looked thoroughly fucked--bottom lip red from where he'd been biting it, cheeks stained pink, hairline damp with sweat. His cock was softening, but its outline was still obvious in his pants, which had creases that pulled across his crotch from where the material had bunched when Charles had tugged them open.
Charles looked just as despoiled--his colour high, his clothes wrinkled and his lips puffy and swollen. There was absolutely no way anyone could look at them and not know exactly what they'd been up to.
That and the entire bathroom reeked of sex.
Charles was still admiring his newly shaved head, turning his head to catch every angle while running his fingers steadily across his skull.
"It's not terrible, is it?" he said. Erik stepped forward and ran a hand over the top of Charles' head.
"It's really not."
"Well, then, I supposed that means we're done here," Charles said, but he hesitated. Erik, who was coming to know Charles' expressions well, immediately bowed his head.
"I'll give you a moment," he said, grabbing his helmet from where he'd set it on the counter when they'd first arrived, tucking it under his arm.
He stepped around the pile of hair that covered the bathroom floor, brushing his clothes free of any that might have transferred, and then stepped out into the main room. Hank and Linda were nowhere to be seen and it occurred to Erik then that they had been locked in the bathroom for the better part of half an hour.
He found Hank and Linda outside in the hall, sitting side by side against the wall, Hank showing Linda several of his blueprints, Linda nodding despite her obvious incomprehension. They glanced up when Erik stepped out the door.
Hank's eyes grew wide, and he immediately glanced away, cheeks flushing violet. The beginnings of a smirk tugged at Linda's mouth.
"Charles will be a minute," Erik said, very purposely avoiding either of their gazes. What he and Charles did behind closed doors was none of their business.
Five minutes of awkward silence passed before Charles emerged, looking slightly less rumpled. He smiled brightly at Hank and Linda, glanced once in Erik's direction, and then started them back to Cerebro.
Mystique met them outside the doors.
She arched an eyebrow at the sight of Charles' hair--or lack thereof--but Charles merely smiled, ran a hand over his head and said in his typical, self-depreciating fashion, "It'll grow back."
Mystique nodded, but she looked skeptical. She stepped aside to let Charles into the room; who went straight to Cerebro's interface and picked up the helmet from where he'd discarded it after it had failed to pick up his brain waves the first time.
"We should have a better connection now," Hank said, helping Charles fit the helmet to his head. "Although, we may need to wet your head." Erik watched as Charles flushed at that, Hank obviously confused by his reaction. Wisely, he didn't comment.
This helmet looked vastly different from its counterpart back in Westchester. All of its components were exposed, wires and circuitry clustered around its exterior like some strange alien device. It made Charles look like a lab rat.
Hank, who had moved over to the control panel now that Charles was set up, hummed contentedly, obviously liking whatever readout he was receiving.
"This isn't designed to project, so we won't be able to see what you're doing, but I think you're familiar enough with the process to let us know if anything seems off," he said to Charles, even as he gestured to Mystique who immediately moved towards the door.
Before she could seal it shut--leaving only the four of them inside; Linda having returned to her rooms--Emma Frost appeared in the doorway. Erik immediately tensed. It took effort to stamp down the suspicion and jealousy that flared upon spotting her--no matter what he had told Charles, he would probably never be entirely comfortable having her and Charles in the same room together.
To his surprise, it was him she sought out, Emma making eye contact briefly before she nodded out the door.
"Now?" Erik asked, rather loudly. It drew every eye in the room--save Charles, who was apparently lost to whatever preparations he tended to make before Cerebro initiated. Hank raised a questioning eyebrow.
"This is only a preliminary test. We won't be doing much more than ensuring it works. We don't need you," he said, but Erik had no particular interest in leaving Charles until he was certain this Cerebro was safe.
"Of course it's safe, Erik. There's nothing you can do at the moment anyway," Charles said, surprising Erik, because he hadn't thought Charles was listening.
He turned to make eye contact, pleased to note that Charles was ignoring Emma in favour of staring at him.
"Fine, but if anything feels even the slightest bit off, you are to stop, do you understand?" Charles smiled, and then turned back to face Hank, nodded briefly, and closed his eyes.
Erik didn't wait to see what would happen--Cerebro wouldn't work with the door open anyway. He crossed the walkway to follow Emma from the room, Erik using his power to close and seal Cerebro's door behind him.
"This had better be important," Erik said.
"Unfortunately, it is," Emma replied, but she didn't say anything else, leading Erik instead to his office.
She didn't speak again until they were safely inside, waiting for Erik to close and lock the door before opening her mouth. She sat on the edge of Erik's desk, crossing her legs neatly, her hands folding into her lap.
"Small problem with Charles' plan," she said. Erik, who was halfway to claiming one of the chairs that faced his desk, sank heavily down into it.
"What kind of problem?"
"First, the good news; we are entitled to petition for Stryker's arrest, and we can apply to host his trial. They aren't guarantees, but my contact seemed to think we have a strong enough case to win both. The bad news; the petitioning process usually takes six months, but things are so backlogged right now that we're probably looking at upwards of a year.
Erik felt the colour drain from his face. A year was impossible; they'd be collared and enslaved, without recourse within the year. If Stryker wasn't stopped soon, stopping him would require a war, and then only if enough humans sided with the mutants--who would be utterly useless, collared as they were, and maybe even fighting for the wrong side. No, a year was impossible.
"There is a loophole," Emma said, and Erik clung fiercely to the brief flare of hope those words brought.
"What is it?" he demanded.
"Stryker's already broken our laws, so if we can get him on Genoshian soil, then we can arrest him and detain him until the UN paperwork clears."
"Wouldn't we have grounds to simply prosecute him without UN backing then?" Erik asked. Emma shook her head.
"We could, but Charles is right; without UN backing this becomes nothing more than a side-show peanut gallery. Having a UN sanctioned trial is imperative if we want to make the point we're trying to make."
Erik considered. "So we kidnap Stryker, bring him here, and arrest him; simple."
Emma tutted even as she rolled her eyes. "We need to get him to come here of his own free will, otherwise his lawyers will have him walking within twenty-four hours--and anything we do to countermand it will be seen as a violation of his rights."
Erik scowled. He brought a hand to his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So basically, we're screwed," he said, because there was no way Stryker was going to set foot in Genosha--not until his collars were ready--and then he'd be making an open declaration of war and probably wouldn't care about an arrest warrant.
"What the hell do we do, then?" He knew what his answer would have been six months ago--hell, even six weeks ago. Emma obviously did too.
"We can't leave this any longer. Look, I like Charles as much as you do." Erik glanced up sharply at that. Emma backpedaled. "Sorry, not as much as you do--I certainly don't want to sleep with him if that's what you're worried about--but he's a good guy, and I know he's not on board the whole killing people who get in our way thing, but can you honestly see another option here?"
Erik's heart constricted, because Emma was right; he couldn't. And they had tried--they really had--surely Charles would see that. Surely Charles would see that there was no other option.
The problem was Erik could no longer bring himself to believe that.
"I can't," Erik said. Emma's eyebrows went skyward. "Charles needs to have input on this decision. I can't just make it for him. I can't..."
He was aware he sounded like an idiot--he certainly didn't sound like the ruthless leader of the Brotherhood he had once prided himself on being. Emma's shock was palpable. She stared at Erik in awe.
"God, he really has changed you," she said, but she sounded oddly pleased.
Certainly she was smiling, features softer than Erik had ever seen them. He frowned, not particularly sure how to deal with this Emma.
"All right; Charles it is. You want me to arrange an emergency meeting?" she asked.
Erik nodded. He could think of a dozen people who needed to be invited--and immediately if possible. He provided Emma with a list.
"I'll grab Charles and Mystique, maybe Hank, too, and we'll convene in the boardroom. Say an hour?"
Emma nodded, gracefully sliding off the desk. Erik stood, suddenly finding Emma standing entirely too close. She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed briefly.
"You're a lot more likeable when you're getting laid on a regular basis. Try to keep Charles around," she said. Erik couldn't help but laugh, silently agreeing with her assessment.
He moved aside to let her leave, and then reached up to ring the intercom. Rogue appeared in his doorway a moment later, just as Erik was in the process of removing his helmet--it was strange, but now that Emma seemed less a threat, Erik couldn't find a reason to continue wearing it. Besides, it had been so long since he had last felt like Magneto--and that in itself was strange, but probably Charles' doing as well--that the helmet had begun to feel oddly foreign, like it didn't belong to him at all.
"There's an emergency meeting in the boardroom in one hour. Can you arrange for something light for dinner? About ten people," Erik said. Rogue looked at him like he was crazy--though, yes, he did know how difficult a task that was--but she nodded. "And send the cleaning staff in to clean my bathroom, sooner rather than later." This time Rogue's expression grew incredulous. Erik took pity on her. "Also, I want you to attend. Consider this an official promotion. Jubilee can take over your current role."
Rogue's eyes lit up at that--she smiled brightly, shoulders straightening as she came to attention. In the year that she'd served as Erik's personal assistant, he had known her capable of more--and so had she, complaining loudly and often to anyone who would listen that her skills were being wasted. Still, everyone had to pay their dues.
Before she could say anything--he was half afraid she would begin babbling her thanks, even though it was hardly her style--Erik waved her away. He stepped out of his office a moment later, Rogue already making calls, trying to secure them an evening meal. He left her to it and returned swiftly to Cerebro.
The door was still closed, so Erik hesitated, eventually deciding on rapping his knuckles against it three times, then waiting. Ten--ridiculously long--minutes passed before the door finally slid open.
Mystique poked her head out the door, then stepped back and opened the door the rest of the way, permitting Erik entry.
"Where's your hat?" she said, gesturing to his head. Erik glared.
"Never mind that; I've called an emergency meeting--in about forty minutes from now. How's it going in here?" He'd been gone no more than half an hour, but Charles had told him each test would run approximately twenty minutes. A quick glance in Charles' direction showed Charles smiling brightly, seeming well pleased by whatever Hank was saying. He glanced up, spotted Erik, and waved him over.
"Oh, Erik," he said when Erik reached his side. "It's incredible--I'd forgotten what it was like to extend my telepathy so far. Hank limited the parameters to Genosha, but even that... There are so many mutants here. So many variations and abilities; it's absolutely incredible."
Charles practically radiated contentment. His eyes shone and he gestured as he spoke, hands waving exuberantly. "I did do a sweep for Stryker as part of the test; he's not here, of course." Charles chuckled, Erik joining him a moment later; and wouldn't that have made his life so much easier?
"We're going to extend its range to include the surrounding islands and the eastern coast of Africa. If that goes well, we'll include the entire African continent, but to be honest, I don't think we need to bother--this feels exactly like my Cerebro. I suspect we could expand its range globally and begin our search immediately."
Charles was talking a mile a minute, obviously excited, which made it hard for Erik to interrupt. Eventually he lifted a hand, fitting two fingers against Charles' lips, whatever Charles was saying stuttering to a stop. He blinked at Erik in confusion. Erik found himself momentarily distracted by a vivid memory of just what those lips had been doing not an hour ago.
He shook his head. "You're doing this as slowly as Hank deems necessary, and no arguments, but first we need to take a small break. I've called an emergency meeting; there's a problem."
Charles cocked his head. "Oh," he said as Erik called his conversation with Emma to the forefront of his thoughts, letting Charles see it.
Charles frowned, brow creasing as he considered the problem. Suddenly his features lit up, smile widening across his face. "Actually, that might work quite well," he said, but in lieu of the explanation Erik was expecting, Charles merely added, "We'll need to invite Scott to the meeting."
On to chapter 20
