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fic: Prizefight

Title: Prizefight
Fandom: X-Men: First Class/Becoming Jane
Rating: R
Content Notes: none, apart from telepathic transmission of sexual images
Word count: 772
Summary: Erik reluctantly attends a boxing match and gets more than he bargained for.
Notes: written for the Fight challenge at [community profile] fan_flashworks, and as a fill for my [community profile] trope_bingo "mind games" square; AU inspired by the fight scene at the start of Becoming Jane.



For the life of him Erik could not understand the English passion for prizefighting. In Germany this would not be a sport for gentlemen; yet here the sons of the aristocracy flocked to Gentleman Jackson for instruction in the noble science, as they called it. Lord Byron, now in exile in Italy, was said to have frequented this place.

If Sir James Howlett were not such an important patron, Erik would have declined the invitation. As it was, he looked on with disdain and disbelief as the young men of fashion placed their bets and shouted encouragement at their favoured pugilists.

Erik attempted to withdraw his mind from the proceedings and think of his new invention. If all went well, Sir James’s fortune would enable the firm of Lehnsherr to steal a march on their rivals and carry all before them. How that villain Schmidt would tear his hair with vexation when he saw Lehnsherr’s triumph… The thought of it made Erik grunt with satisfaction.

“That’s Charles Xavier,” Howlett said. “The heir to Graymalkin.”

Erik hadn’t known he was staring at the young man making his way into the ring, though he had to admit the fellow was well-made, lithe and strong. Once seen, it was impossible not to watch him as he struck and parried, landing blows on his taller and heavier opponent that made the other man stagger.

“Young pup,” Howlett said. “He tried to fight me once, and came off worst. Doesn’t know when he’s beaten. I had a terrier like that. Attacked a wolfhound. No idea of his own size.”

The shouts from both sides grew almost deafening as the bigger man lurched and seemed about to fall. Xavier’s skin was shining with exertion, and his breeches clung to him. Well made there too, Erik thought, and licked his lips.

A bead of sweat ran down Xavier’s neck to his collarbone. Salt. It would taste salt, and good. Impossible to see that glistening torso and not want to cover it with licks and kisses and bites –

Xavier jerked his head round, as if someone in the crowd had called his name, and his opponent seized the chance to floor him with a mighty blow. The crowd yelled its approval, and the winner raised his fists triumphantly above his head.

“What the devil possessed him to turn his back?” Howlett grumbled. “The damn fellow’s lost me ten guineas.”

Erik didn’t answer, wholly absorbed as he was in gazing at Xavier’s prone form.

A flashily dressed young woman, of whose profession there could be little doubt, bent over Xavier and attempted to revive him. “A glass of wine with you, sir?”

Xavier’s slow smile, his eyes still closed, stirred wicked thoughts in Erik. How could any man’s lips be so red by nature?

No art, sir, I assure you, a voice said in Erik’s mind, lazily amused and clear as a bell.

What the devil –? Erik felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, as if touched by the icy breath of a ghost.

The laughter that echoed in his head was Xavier’s, just as the voice was – Erik was sure of it. But how –?

I have the power of hearing thoughts, the voice answered. I find yours … distracting. And rather loud..

Erik blinked and rubbed his eyes at the picture that bloomed in his head: Xavier, naked, and himself – still fully clothed – kissing him all over, marking him –

I think you ought to show me what comes next, Xavier’s voice teased him. Since you lost me the fight.

The words and the tone roused him shamefully; Erik felt hot all over, his cock stiffening in his breeches.

Xavier licked his impossibly red lips, a gesture of anticipation so frank that Erik could hardly forbear seizing him and kissing him there and then, in front of all the onlookers.

I think not, Xavier said, amused. Jackson’s a friend, of course – he’s a sodomite himself – but I wouldn’t go bail for the others. A private supper would be best, don’t you think?

The second image took Erik’s breath away: Xavier on his knees, sucking Erik’s cock as eagerly as if life held no greater pleasure than this –

Xavier opened his eyes and looked directly at Erik, and Erik knew in that moment that he was lost. He stretched out his hand towards Xavier, hardly knowing what he did, and heard that satisfied laughter in his head.

“Glass of wine with you, sir?” the young woman repeated, grasping Xavier’s hands and pulling him to his feet.

“Madam,” Xavier said, with a slight bow, “I fear I am otherwise engaged.”






Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/150395.html with comment count unavailable comments.

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
thesmallhobbit
May. 21st, 2014 10:18 pm (UTC)
I appreciate the pictures you conjure very much.
fengirl88
May. 21st, 2014 10:47 pm (UTC)
thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed them. *grins*
greenhoodloxley
May. 21st, 2014 10:26 pm (UTC)
This was delightful. Perfection. :)
fengirl88
May. 21st, 2014 10:48 pm (UTC)
*beams* thank you very much!
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )

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