Title: Office Discipline
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Rating: R
Length: ~1150 words
Content notes: Sexual fantasy, spanking, PWP
Author notes: Modern, powered, office AU with additional inspiration from panzercat's Tumblr posts. This fic is for panzercat/redders; thanks to theimpressionist for aiding and abetting.
Summary: Erik's imagination gets him into hot water at the office.



“Watch out for the new tech guy,” Sean calls, as Erik passes his door. “He’s on the rampage.”

“Oh yeah?” Erik says, not breaking stride. It doesn’t sound very likely; most of the IT guys he’s ever known prefer to hide away in their tech cave, swapping obscure facts about sci-fi and occasionally talking to each other in computer programming language.

“Yeah,” Alex chimes in from the room next door, “He’s going through everyone’s hard drive looking at all your dirty pictures.”

Erik doesn’t have dirty pictures on his work computer. Alex looks like he possibly does, or did until half an hour ago, and who knows what Sean has, but that’s their problem, not Erik’s. He keeps the stuff he doesn’t want anyone to see on his home machine, behind a strong layer of encryption. His conscience is clear.

Right now, he’s got more important things to think about anyway. Like getting enough coffee into his system to stay awake and focused through what’s bound to be a mind-numbingly dull meeting with Emma Frost’s latest spoilt rich-kid client. Erik groans at the thought of it.

The coffee machine is making temperamental noises again, and emitting steam from various places it shouldn’t be. Oh, great. Now he has to repair the damn thing before he can get his caffeine fix. Erik sighs noisily and focuses his powers on the metal parts of the machine that need cooling or recalibrating. There’s a lot of clanking and hissing, but eventually there is also coffee. Erik gulps down a near-scalding cup of the stuff, and is about to reach for a refill when he realizes someone else is waiting. Has been waiting all along, though Erik barely registered his presence, or even the metal of his wheelchair.

Shit.

“Sorry,” Erik mutters, moving aside so the man can get to the machine.

“Thanks,” the man says, apparently without resentment. He pours himself a cup of coffee and looks Erik up and down as if he likes what he sees.

Erik looks back at him, seeing him properly for the first time, and oh hello. This is one tech guy he wouldn’t mind seeing on the rampage. Even the hipster glasses can’t disguise the stunning deep blue of his eyes, and the moustache and beard make his mouth look even more red and enticing. Broad shoulders, well-muscled arms and strong, capable hands; Erik swallows hard, imagining what those hands could do, as he watches the man drink his coffee…

Your hard drive is a disgrace, he imagines the tech guy saying. Bend over.

Erik would protest, of course, or pretend not to understand. What?

You heard, the tech guy would say. Bend over. Hands flat on your desk.

He would do it, too, undoing his jeans and baring his ass at the tech guy’s insistence, the voice jeering You’re gonna get what’s coming to you, time for some office discipline, give you a proper spanking like the bad boy you are.

(OK, maybe dialogue is not Erik’s strong point.)

He imagines the shock of the first hit, the stinging weight and heat of it making him gasp, the agonizing suspense as he waits for the next blow, and the next, the man’s hand landing strong and unrelenting again and again on his buttocks and thighs, giving Erik what he needs, what he craves, till he’s dizzy and achingly hard, and the voice taunts and teases him Oh, you like that, don’t you? How many more d’you think it’ll take to make you come? Ask me nicely and I’ll keep going, and his own voice begging Please don’t stop –

“Oh, there you are, Erik,” Emma says. “And I see you’ve met our new client already.”

Erik’s still reeling from the shock of having his fantasy so rudely interrupted, and it takes a moment to process the information. “Oh,” he says stupidly.

“We didn’t introduce ourselves,” says the man who is not the new tech guy. He’s slightly flushed, Erik notices. “Charles Xavier,” he says, holding out his hand.

“Erik Lehnsherr,” Erik says, shaking Xavier’s hand and trying very hard not to think about what it’s just been doing in his fantasy.

“I’m a great admirer of your work,” Xavier says, clasping Erik’s hand firmly. “There aren’t many designers with your kind of imagination.”

The remark sounds almost like a double entendre, and there’s a glint in his eye that makes heat pool in Erik’s stomach.

“I should warn you, I’m a telepath,” Xavier says, letting go of Erik’s hand.

“Charles is too modest,” Emma says. “He’s much stronger than I am.”

Fuck.

“I won’t try to read your mind,” Xavier says, “but I may pick up on thoughts if they’re particularly loud.”

Perfect. Erik is so screwed.

“Right,” he says, trying to pull himself together. “So, Emma hasn’t told me exactly what you want. Let me get my laptop and we can discuss your specifications.”

“That would be delightful,” Xavier says, with a smirk that makes Erik want to do several things he has to stop thinking about right away, because Client, Telepath, Telepathic Client…

Somebody up there must really have it in for Erik Lehnsherr. Because it turns out that what Xavier wants is for Erik to redesign what he calls his playroom (“I think ‘dungeon’ sounds rather po-faced, don’t you?”), and by the end of the meeting it’s been agreed that Erik will make a site visit to inspect the existing fittings and equipment.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to sort out the details,” Emma says, sounding faintly bored. “Always a pleasure, Charles.”

“I’m very excited to see what Erik comes up with,” Xavier says. “I’m sure it’ll be breathtaking. Goodbye, Emma.”

There’s an awkward silence once she’s gone, lasting roughly 500 years.

“So,” Erik says, pulling up his electronic calendar, “when would be a good time for this site visit?”

“Now is good, if you’re free,” Xavier says.

Erik glares accusingly at the blank space in his diary. “OK,” he says. It comes out as a croak.

“Good,” Xavier says, so smug he’s practically purring. “My car’s right outside.”

Of course it is. That’s not going to be an awkward ride at all.

Erik suppresses a sigh and puts his laptop in its case. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Alex in the corridor, talking to a tall, gangling young man who must be the real new tech guy. His glasses are nothing like as hip as Xavier’s.

“By the way,” Xavier says, as the elevator doors slide closed, “I actually started out in IT support, before I set up the software company. So if you still want that spanking from the tech guy you were thinking about earlier, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

Erik doesn’t even try to answer that; he’s not too sure he can form words at the moment. Half appalled and more than half-hard, he follows Xavier out of the cool office building and into the sunlight.