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fic: Read Your Lips

Title: Read Your Lips
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Wordcount: 730
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
A/N: written for [personal profile] jena for the Five Acts Meme, for the prompt "Kissing, any type of kisses from tentative to first time to hard and angry".

Summary: Afterwards, Erik's not sure what to blame it on: one too many nights in shared motel rooms, one too many martinis in the bar where they've gone to meet a potential recruit, the frustration of being turned down yet again by a mutant too scared or too comfortable in their life of passing for human... All of those things had a part to play, and maybe one of them was what finally tipped the scale.

Or maybe he just couldn't go on looking at Charles Xavier's mouth one minute longer.




Afterwards, Erik's not sure what to blame it on: one too many nights in shared motel rooms, one too many martinis in the bar where they've gone to meet a potential recruit, the frustration of being turned down yet again by a mutant too scared or too comfortable in their life of passing for human... All of those things had a part to play, and maybe one of them was what finally tipped the scale.

Or maybe he just couldn't go on looking at Charles Xavier's mouth one minute longer.


Charles's mouth is so red, so luscious it's almost obscene. And Erik's had to spend a lot of time looking at it, one way and another, this trip. Watching Charles talk, and smile, and drink terrible coffee in one roadside diner after another. Watching Charles lick his lips and bite them when he's flirting with girls. Watching Charles pull at his lower lip when he's drunk and trying to focus.

Watching, and trying not to imagine all the other things that mouth could do.

They're walking back to the dingy hotel in a little desert town so small it barely has a name, Charles trying to process what went wrong with the recruiting attempt and Erik ruefully contemplating the hangover he's going to have tomorrow, when something snaps.

(On reflection, that convenient alleyway may also have had something to do with it.)

Erik grabs Charles by the shoulders and pulls him into the narrow space, cutting short Charles's speculations about why everyone can't see how great it would be to join the world they're building with Cerebro.

“Erik, what –”

That's as far as he gets before Erik shoves him up against the wall and kisses him, hard, all the pent-up frustration of weeks on the road channelled into the press of his mouth against Charles's.

Charles makes a startled noise that turns into a moan, and kisses Erik back as if his life depends on it, his hands tangling in Erik's hair and his whole body pressed eagerly against Erik's. He opens his mouth to Erik's tongue, sucking and caressing with a mixture of skill and intention that makes Erik's head swim.

Charles's thigh is pushed between Erik's and he's rubbing himself shamelessly against Erik, running his hands down Erik's back to squeeze his ass and pull him closer, as if he's trying to fuse their bodies through their clothes.

Erik knows he started this, but it's not safe here, and the hotel's so close... He tries to pull away from the kiss, and Charles makes a desperate noise of protest, clutching at Erik's back and scratching that spot between the shoulder blades that always makes him shiver with pleasure. He kisses Erik's neck, just below the ear, and Erik groans and tries not to go cross-eyed. It's too much, one place after another that he can't resist, it's as if Charles knows – oh, of course...

“Cheat,” he gasps, and feels Charles laughing against his neck, nuzzling and licking and biting, fuck, if Charles goes on doing that Erik's going to come in his pants in roughly half a minute –

Stop,” he says, and holds Charles away from him, ignoring his choked cry of frustration.

“You want to,” Charles protests, struggling to get closer.

“Yes, I want to,” Erik says, dizzy with lust. “Just, not here.”

He wants to kiss Charles all over, kiss every inch of his naked skin, kiss him hard and soft and urgent and slow, kiss him till Charles can't bear it any longer, kiss him for hours, till the sun comes up and it's another day and they're heavy-eyed and their lips are bruised and swollen, till his mouth is as red as Charles's, as ripe and obscene and irresistible -

“Oh,” Charles says, and he's heavy in Erik's grip, as if he's gone suddenly weak at the knees. “Erik, please –”

“Hotel,” Erik says, with an effort. “Beds. Bed.” He feels half-drunk on the promise of it, after all this time.


How they make it to the bedroom without fucking in the lobby or the elevator he'll never know. The hotel room's cramped and shabby and the walls are thin – there'll be some heavy-duty mind-wiping for Charles to do before the night is over – but Erik doesn't care. There's a bed, and Charles Xavier in it, naked and laughing and pulling him down into a kiss.




Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/114998.html with comment count unavailable comments.

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