Title: Every Angle
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Characters: Charles/Erik
Rating: adult
Length: 1500 words (300 words per part!)
Content notes: None. Wait, should I warn for nerdy math puns?
Author notes: Classifying triangles by the internal angles of each triangle, there are five types: obtuse (one angle above 90°), acute (no angles at or above 90°), oblique (no angles that are exactly 90°), right (one angle is exactly 90°), and degenerate (one angle is exactly 180°-- which makes it look a lot like a straight line). ^_^
Summary: Either Erik simply hasn't noticed how interested Charles is in him, or he's tormenting Charles on purpose.
OBTUSE
Erik meets Charles on the rooftop of the CIA's installation, footsteps light on the concrete. It would take extended senses to detect him, but Charles has them at his disposal; Charles can sense not just Erik's presence, but the near-subconscious level of care he always takes in order to be inconspicuous.
Charles has the chessboard out, a bottle of sparkling water, fresh wedges of lime. "There you are," he offers, smiling, tongue teasing at his lower lip. "Right on time."
He watches Erik take in the chessboard, the cushions Charles borrowed from one of the rec rooms, the view of the stars and the white dome of Cerebro on the back lawn. If Erik's taken note of the drinks and the glasses, he doesn't linger on them.
"We could have played inside," Erik points out. His toe brushes the cushion across from Charles. "And you forgot the chess clock."
"I can keep time well enough on my own," Charles promises, reaching up and tapping his temple. Erik lifts an eyebrow. "But I thought perhaps tonight we might take it slowly. No need to rush." He reaches out, gestures at the other cushion. "Take a seat."
Erik folds himself down more gracefully than Charles had imagined; his long legs bend and settle beneath him, back straight as he takes his place across from Charles. Even at rest, Erik looks as though he's trained himself to be ready for action at any moment. It's one of the things Charles enjoys most when he's looking at him.
But as the night goes on, Charles's hopes dwindle. All the action he's going to get tonight is happening on the chessboard. Surely he's not reading Erik wrong; Erik practically gives off waves of heat whenever they're together.
Is it possible the man simply hasn't noticed?
ACUTE
"Something's different," Erik says. It's the first thing he says after he comes out of the bathroom, his hair neat, his clothes impeccable. He fastens his watch onto his wrist, but not with his hands, nimble as they are; the watchband is steel, and Erik clasps it as easily as breathing.
Breathing is not so easy for Charles, not while he's confronted with Erik's constant casual use of his powers every day. Erik can't be controlled, can't be asked to be discreet. Every time Charles tries, Erik simply looks at him and taps his fingers to his temple, giving Charles permission to take the answer from Erik's mind.
«What do you think they could do to me, Charles? The humans and their guns and their bigotry. What do you think I'd allow them to do?»
The challenge in Erik's expression shouldn't be so damnably attractive, but it is. Of course it is. Erik can't be tamed. It would be a huge error to even try. What would you allow me to do, Charles always wonders. The quick sharing of thoughts is a tease; he wants so much more than that.
Charles tries to pull his thoughts back to the subject at hand. "Different?"
"Different," Erik confirms. He looks over Charles's body, his eyes lingering. "Ah." There's a light tug at the very end of Charles's belt. "Your new belt. I'd forgotten."
The end of Charles's new belt is reinforced with steel. It wasn't an accident that he chose this belt, when the buckle on his last broke unexpectedly. It doesn't even show, not now that Charles has his cardigan on, but Erik identified it anyway.
The man can detect a steel tip on a belt but he's blind to what's practically staring him in the face. It's making Charles insane.
OBLIQUE
"Chess tonight?" Erik asks. They aren't doing so well on this trip. They've found three mutants; all three turned them down when Charles tried to explain why they were there.
"I don't think I'm in the mood for a game," Charles says. Perhaps he's a bit more abrupt than is actually called for, but really. He's been patient, he's been friendly, God knows he's been available-- he's had offers from any number of attractive men and women since they got started, and he's turned them all down, with significant looks in Erik's direction. Surely Erik's noticed. One woman even offered to take them both on. Charles was tempted to at least suggest it to Erik. He didn't.
Erik looks at Charles for quite a long time, after Charles turns him down. Long enough that Charles wonders if he's simply waiting for Charles to change his mind. It's been known to happen. Erik could probably change Charles's mind on anything, just by leveling that look at him.
Instead, Erik says, "You'll have to forgive me, Charles. I've had little enough opportunity to play games over the years. I've been enjoying it. Perhaps too much."
And that makes Charles's heart sink, because he's been inside Erik's mind. He knows what Erik's life has been like.
"It's not too much," Charles says immediately. "Set up the board."
"We could try something else," Erik offers. The tiniest hint of a smile shows in the corners of his mouth. "Maybe chess isn't what we're in the mood for tonight."
"I have a deck of cards..."
"Go on and put them on the table, then."
He digs them out of his suitcase and heads for the table and shuffles them, and he tries to block out everything he can from Erik, particularly Erik's radiant sense of amusement.
RIGHT
Today's so perfect Charles thinks he might have dreamed it. He and Erik are in New York City. The mutant they were here to find agreed to sign up with them, leaving them the rest of the day on their own.
Charles immediately knows what he wants to do with the afternoon. He gets Erik into a taxi and heads for the Battery Park ferry terminal, where Erik's so distracted by the view of the Statue of Liberty he barely even notices it's where they're going.
On the ferry, Charles asks, "Have you seen it before?"
"Yes. Years ago..." Erik shakes his head. "It was back when I was young enough to believe America could be the land of tolerance. Peace."
"It still can be. With our help."
Charles takes a risk and reaches out, catches Erik's hand in his. Erik looks at their hands, then at Charles-- and he smiles. Charles goes warm all over, but once they dock on Liberty Island, Erik has eyes for nothing but the statue. "I want to go up," he murmurs. "Which way?"
"Our tour group's over there--"
"No," Erik says. "Not with a tour group." He reaches up, touches Charles's temple. «With you.»
Charles doesn't even try to resist him. He wouldn't stand a chance.
They sneak their way to the torch, where the wind is relentless, but Erik's delighted laugh chases away the chill in seconds. Charles smiles back at him, and then he's being pulled into strong arms, cradled against Erik's chest.
«Kiss me,» Erik thinks.
Charles just stares. "Say that aloud," he says, voice raised above the rushing wind.
"Kiss me," Erik tells him. "I want you to. I've wanted you to. Do it now. Here."
Charles comes up on his toes, winds his arms around Erik's neck... does.
DEGENERATE
Erik has a filthy, filthy mind, and Charles gets to play in it, explore it, immerse himself in all the lewd, exciting things Erik wants to do.
He lets Erik bend him into every imaginable position, encourages Erik to try for some that Charles has only seen in other people's minds, never knowing whether they were possible or not. Some are, some might be if Charles could stretch just a little further...
«Let me try that,» Erik thinks. He twists, rolls over onto his back, draws his knees up to his chest. His ankles go up, above his head, and with that impossibly slim torso of his it really does seem possible Charles could bend Erik into any shape he wanted.
This isn't quite the contortionist's pose Charles had in mind, but now that he has Erik all laid out and bent in half this way, he's not going to let him up without taking advantage. He covers Erik's body with his, and Erik tilts his face up, flicks his tongue out over Charles's mouth. For a moment, they reach. It's amazing.
«I love you,» Charles thinks. He fumbles for the cream Erik favors... Charles still doesn't know whether it's for the metal tube or the cream itself, but either way, they've taken to stashing it everywhere. «I want you... look at you, you're ridiculous, you're absurd--»
«Show me,» Erik demands. Charles shares the visual: bent in half, open, sweating, ready to be fucked, and smiling so hard Charles can see almost all of his teeth. It just makes Erik smile more.
«You made me wait forever,» Charles thinks, slicking himself, warming the cream on his fingers before slicking Erik, too. «I'm not waiting now.»
«You don't have to wait,» Erik thinks, offering himself up, laughing. «Now I'm yours.»
-end-
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Characters: Charles/Erik
Rating: adult
Length: 1500 words (300 words per part!)
Content notes: None. Wait, should I warn for nerdy math puns?
Author notes: Classifying triangles by the internal angles of each triangle, there are five types: obtuse (one angle above 90°), acute (no angles at or above 90°), oblique (no angles that are exactly 90°), right (one angle is exactly 90°), and degenerate (one angle is exactly 180°-- which makes it look a lot like a straight line). ^_^
Summary: Either Erik simply hasn't noticed how interested Charles is in him, or he's tormenting Charles on purpose.
OBTUSE
Erik meets Charles on the rooftop of the CIA's installation, footsteps light on the concrete. It would take extended senses to detect him, but Charles has them at his disposal; Charles can sense not just Erik's presence, but the near-subconscious level of care he always takes in order to be inconspicuous.
Charles has the chessboard out, a bottle of sparkling water, fresh wedges of lime. "There you are," he offers, smiling, tongue teasing at his lower lip. "Right on time."
He watches Erik take in the chessboard, the cushions Charles borrowed from one of the rec rooms, the view of the stars and the white dome of Cerebro on the back lawn. If Erik's taken note of the drinks and the glasses, he doesn't linger on them.
"We could have played inside," Erik points out. His toe brushes the cushion across from Charles. "And you forgot the chess clock."
"I can keep time well enough on my own," Charles promises, reaching up and tapping his temple. Erik lifts an eyebrow. "But I thought perhaps tonight we might take it slowly. No need to rush." He reaches out, gestures at the other cushion. "Take a seat."
Erik folds himself down more gracefully than Charles had imagined; his long legs bend and settle beneath him, back straight as he takes his place across from Charles. Even at rest, Erik looks as though he's trained himself to be ready for action at any moment. It's one of the things Charles enjoys most when he's looking at him.
But as the night goes on, Charles's hopes dwindle. All the action he's going to get tonight is happening on the chessboard. Surely he's not reading Erik wrong; Erik practically gives off waves of heat whenever they're together.
Is it possible the man simply hasn't noticed?
ACUTE
"Something's different," Erik says. It's the first thing he says after he comes out of the bathroom, his hair neat, his clothes impeccable. He fastens his watch onto his wrist, but not with his hands, nimble as they are; the watchband is steel, and Erik clasps it as easily as breathing.
Breathing is not so easy for Charles, not while he's confronted with Erik's constant casual use of his powers every day. Erik can't be controlled, can't be asked to be discreet. Every time Charles tries, Erik simply looks at him and taps his fingers to his temple, giving Charles permission to take the answer from Erik's mind.
«What do you think they could do to me, Charles? The humans and their guns and their bigotry. What do you think I'd allow them to do?»
The challenge in Erik's expression shouldn't be so damnably attractive, but it is. Of course it is. Erik can't be tamed. It would be a huge error to even try. What would you allow me to do, Charles always wonders. The quick sharing of thoughts is a tease; he wants so much more than that.
Charles tries to pull his thoughts back to the subject at hand. "Different?"
"Different," Erik confirms. He looks over Charles's body, his eyes lingering. "Ah." There's a light tug at the very end of Charles's belt. "Your new belt. I'd forgotten."
The end of Charles's new belt is reinforced with steel. It wasn't an accident that he chose this belt, when the buckle on his last broke unexpectedly. It doesn't even show, not now that Charles has his cardigan on, but Erik identified it anyway.
The man can detect a steel tip on a belt but he's blind to what's practically staring him in the face. It's making Charles insane.
OBLIQUE
"Chess tonight?" Erik asks. They aren't doing so well on this trip. They've found three mutants; all three turned them down when Charles tried to explain why they were there.
"I don't think I'm in the mood for a game," Charles says. Perhaps he's a bit more abrupt than is actually called for, but really. He's been patient, he's been friendly, God knows he's been available-- he's had offers from any number of attractive men and women since they got started, and he's turned them all down, with significant looks in Erik's direction. Surely Erik's noticed. One woman even offered to take them both on. Charles was tempted to at least suggest it to Erik. He didn't.
Erik looks at Charles for quite a long time, after Charles turns him down. Long enough that Charles wonders if he's simply waiting for Charles to change his mind. It's been known to happen. Erik could probably change Charles's mind on anything, just by leveling that look at him.
Instead, Erik says, "You'll have to forgive me, Charles. I've had little enough opportunity to play games over the years. I've been enjoying it. Perhaps too much."
And that makes Charles's heart sink, because he's been inside Erik's mind. He knows what Erik's life has been like.
"It's not too much," Charles says immediately. "Set up the board."
"We could try something else," Erik offers. The tiniest hint of a smile shows in the corners of his mouth. "Maybe chess isn't what we're in the mood for tonight."
"I have a deck of cards..."
"Go on and put them on the table, then."
He digs them out of his suitcase and heads for the table and shuffles them, and he tries to block out everything he can from Erik, particularly Erik's radiant sense of amusement.
RIGHT
Today's so perfect Charles thinks he might have dreamed it. He and Erik are in New York City. The mutant they were here to find agreed to sign up with them, leaving them the rest of the day on their own.
Charles immediately knows what he wants to do with the afternoon. He gets Erik into a taxi and heads for the Battery Park ferry terminal, where Erik's so distracted by the view of the Statue of Liberty he barely even notices it's where they're going.
On the ferry, Charles asks, "Have you seen it before?"
"Yes. Years ago..." Erik shakes his head. "It was back when I was young enough to believe America could be the land of tolerance. Peace."
"It still can be. With our help."
Charles takes a risk and reaches out, catches Erik's hand in his. Erik looks at their hands, then at Charles-- and he smiles. Charles goes warm all over, but once they dock on Liberty Island, Erik has eyes for nothing but the statue. "I want to go up," he murmurs. "Which way?"
"Our tour group's over there--"
"No," Erik says. "Not with a tour group." He reaches up, touches Charles's temple. «With you.»
Charles doesn't even try to resist him. He wouldn't stand a chance.
They sneak their way to the torch, where the wind is relentless, but Erik's delighted laugh chases away the chill in seconds. Charles smiles back at him, and then he's being pulled into strong arms, cradled against Erik's chest.
«Kiss me,» Erik thinks.
Charles just stares. "Say that aloud," he says, voice raised above the rushing wind.
"Kiss me," Erik tells him. "I want you to. I've wanted you to. Do it now. Here."
Charles comes up on his toes, winds his arms around Erik's neck... does.
DEGENERATE
Erik has a filthy, filthy mind, and Charles gets to play in it, explore it, immerse himself in all the lewd, exciting things Erik wants to do.
He lets Erik bend him into every imaginable position, encourages Erik to try for some that Charles has only seen in other people's minds, never knowing whether they were possible or not. Some are, some might be if Charles could stretch just a little further...
«Let me try that,» Erik thinks. He twists, rolls over onto his back, draws his knees up to his chest. His ankles go up, above his head, and with that impossibly slim torso of his it really does seem possible Charles could bend Erik into any shape he wanted.
This isn't quite the contortionist's pose Charles had in mind, but now that he has Erik all laid out and bent in half this way, he's not going to let him up without taking advantage. He covers Erik's body with his, and Erik tilts his face up, flicks his tongue out over Charles's mouth. For a moment, they reach. It's amazing.
«I love you,» Charles thinks. He fumbles for the cream Erik favors... Charles still doesn't know whether it's for the metal tube or the cream itself, but either way, they've taken to stashing it everywhere. «I want you... look at you, you're ridiculous, you're absurd--»
«Show me,» Erik demands. Charles shares the visual: bent in half, open, sweating, ready to be fucked, and smiling so hard Charles can see almost all of his teeth. It just makes Erik smile more.
«You made me wait forever,» Charles thinks, slicking himself, warming the cream on his fingers before slicking Erik, too. «I'm not waiting now.»
«You don't have to wait,» Erik thinks, offering himself up, laughing. «Now I'm yours.»
-end-
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chasethestars
chasethestars
Comments
So much naw, and I love it to death that Charles misses the subtext.
Perfect story is perfect. ♥
Imagination is a good thing *g*
hurrays for more road trip/recruitment fic...my fav! :)