Title: No Expectations
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Characters: Charles/Erik
Rating: adult
Length: ~800 words
Content notes: Showers, masturbation, sexual tension.
Author notes: For the "Washing" challenge. This is a followup to Getting Your Frustration Out Of My System -- Amie, it's super-late, but here you go! :)
Badge notes: X-rated, Historical
Summary: Erik's back in the shower again, after finding out that Charles shared a very intense 'dream' with him. Thinking loudly around a telepath could be considered a hint.



A dream, Charles said, when Erik finally asked him about it. I'm so sorry, Erik. It won't happen again, I'll-- take care of matters before they get to that point.

It's disappointing to hear it put that way, but Erik never had any expectations of Charles. Not even friendship. At first he thought he could make use of Charles and his connections, and then he'd go.

Sometimes he remembers Charles saying You needed my help last night. In his mind, those words mean something very different. Something they don't mean to Charles; something they aren't going to mean, no matter whether Erik wants them to or not.

He wants them to. It's nearly as much of a surprise to him as he expects it would be to Charles, if Charles read it in his thoughts. He's not used to wanting anything, let alone a man he only recently met. The way he takes care of things is quick and efficient and infrequent, something he does when his body demands it.

His body would demand a great many more things, if he let it. If he let himself ask for what he wants.

The trouble with wanting is that there's no end to it. Erik's showers-- well, his 'showers'-- are becoming more and more frequent. Today will make three times this week, and it's only Thursday.

A dream. Erik wishes his dreams were like those, but for now, it's enough to imagine what Charles must have looked like, sounded like, while he was dreaming about Erik. The water's hot enough, and he knows from experience that there's plenty of it. He's washed himself, rinsed himself, and he's gotten his palm slick with a little soap.

He thinks:

Charles, lying in bed, aroused, needing, hasn't had a lover in a while. Too busy with his fellow mutants, with teaching and learning, the mansion.

His hand moves faster. As much as he wants this to last, it won't take long. It never does, particularly not now that he thinks about Charles in the shower.

Eyes shut, lashes dark across his cheek. Mouth soft, red, wet from the way he licks his lips even in his sleep.

Erik wasted so many mornings looking at Charles and not seeing him. At least now that he needs those memories, he has an entire road trip's worth to draw on.

Shifting, cock hard, rubbing against the covers, body tense, maybe he touches himself in his sleep without even realizing, maybe he's dreaming of Erik again right now--

And the desire catches, lights like a fire inside Erik's mind.

Charles would kiss him. Not just his mouth, though he'd start there. He'd kiss Erik's throat, his chest, he'd move down Erik's body to kiss his stomach and his thighs. Erik would have to spread his legs for Charles-- spread them, to get Charles between them; he's never done it himself, but he's imagined it. He's sure that Charles has done it. Charles, Erik feels certain, has done everything, and he'd know. He'd know what Erik needs, how he'd need Charles to be gentle at first, and then anything but gentle. Easy to begin with, but then ruthless. Erik has a lifetime of denial to make up for; with Charles, he'd want to wake up marked and bruised, shattered, unable to move without reminders of what Charles gave him.

He gasps, water pouring over him as he gives himself the last few strokes and comes. He feels flushed all over, though it's partly because of the hot water.

And he knows the rest of the routine: rinse off, wash his hands, put all this desire away as he steps out of the shower and dries off.

When he pulls the shower curtain aside, though, he isn't alone.

Charles meets his eyes. He isn't dressed yet; he's in his white undershirt, his blue striped boxers.

He's hard.

It's an effort to meet his eyes again, after Erik notices that.

"You were listening in," Erik says calmly. He doesn't reach for his towel. The water runs off him in streams, but there's enough steam in here that he isn't cold. Not yet.

"You were calling out," Charles says. Not so calmly. There's a roughness to his voice that Erik's never heard before.

The roughness makes it impossible for Erik to lie. "I might have been."

Charles takes a step forward. His tongue moves across his mouth; now Erik's caught up, staring, and surely Charles knows it.

"How much of that did you mean?"

Erik takes a breath. This wouldn't be his only chance. The look in Charles's eyes guarantees it. But there's no reason to lie, and no reason to hide.

"All of it."

Charles comes forward the rest of the way, reaching out with cool, shaking hands to touch Erik's chest.

"Turn the water back on."

-end-