helens78

Title: Never More Beautiful
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Characters: Charlotte/Erika (genderswapped Charles/Erik)
Rating: adult
Length: ~1400 words
Content notes: Genderswap (not just Charles and Erik, but Angel, too!)
Author notes: For the "Drag" challenge! Also, it's been WEEKS since I was able to get something written for fan_flashworks, so I am really happy to have this Amnesty challenge coming up now! \o/
Summary: Charlotte and Erika show off their abilities to Angel Salvadore, and when Erika finds out how Charlotte demonstrated hers, she's intrigued.

The ladies' club doesn't seem to surprise Charlotte at all, but then nothing has, yet. Erika looks over the dancers, the way their bow ties hang in disarray and their shirts are unbuttoned to the waist, and smirks over at Charlotte.

«Haven't seen anything like this since the last time I was in Amsterdam,» she says, heading directly for the bar and taking a seat.

«Amsterdam! You naughty little minx.» Charlotte takes a seat beside Erika and settles down, crossing her legs at the ankle and looking innocently up at the dancers. Erika wonders if Charlotte could affect a blush on cue. She's certainly given to flushing when she's exerting herself, Erika's learned that firsthand.

«Where's our man?» Erika asks. She runs her tongue over her lower lip and signals the woman behind the bar over; a few moments later she's got a vodka martini while Charlotte is sipping at the most expensive Scotch the club has on hand. It's a good thing the CIA isn't footing the bill for this part of it, but then for all Erika knows, they'd take care of this too. The CIA seems to have deep pockets, which suits Erika fine; the better to find Shaw.

"Oh, darling," Charlotte purrs, reaching out and resting her hand on Erika's wrist. She nods over at a gentleman with looks that speak of a heritage based in Latin America; he's stunning, his complexion warm and golden, his body bared to the waist. Over his shoulders and across his back, he's decorated with tattoos, ones that look as though they're meant to evoke wings... dragonfly wings, perhaps.

Erika doesn't have any difficulty whatever playing her part to the hilt, eyeing the man from his boots to his suspenders, all the way up to his jaunty little top hat. She's the one who eventually draws the money out of her purse, holding it up for the man to take.

He goes to one knee on the bar's surface, smiling from one of them to the other as he slips the bill into a pocket. His expression stays even and friendly despite the denomination on the bill, but he says, "For that," his vowels all showing the flat pronunciation of the United States-- all right, then, he's a local-- "you lovely ladies can have a private dance."

Erika turns to Charlotte, smiling, and Charlotte smiles right back at her.

*

"So there aren't any misunderstandings, you know it's double for both, right?" Angel asks them.

"Oh, that's not necessary, although I'm sure," Charlotte purrs, "it'd be delightful." She's kicked her heels off, nestled in close against Erika's side; her legs are drawn up together, her hand curved around a champagne glass. She sips at the sparkling liquid as Erika lets her eyes roam freely over Angel; she can't see his mutation, but she's looking forward to it, given what Charlotte told her.

"We were thinking more," Erika says, gesturing at herself, "we'll show you ours... if you'll show us yours."

Angel gives them a soft mock-pout. "I'm afraid that's not the way it works around here," he begins, and Erika cuts through the rest of his dissemination: she snaps her fingers, and the steel ice bucket lifts into the air, bringing the champagne bottle into her reach.

"More tea, Your Grace?"

"Don't mind if I do." Charlotte meets Erika's eyes as Erika refills her glass, and when Erika's put the champagne aside once more, she lifts her fingertips to her temple, purses her lips, and smirks at Angel.

Angel pauses, looks at Erika-- and draws in a breath through his teeth, his eyes widening, his pupils growing dark. Erika turns to Charlotte, eyebrows raised, but Charlotte's deliberately avoiding looking at her, just smiling and smiling at Angel.

"It's good, isn't it?"

"What?" Erika murmurs.

"You've never looked more beautiful, darling," Charlotte says back, low and full of meaning.

Well. Erika hasn't put many limits on Charlotte since they started travelling together, but she's not inclined to let Charlotte show off everything she knows about Erika's body to a complete stranger, mutant or not. «We'll talk later,» she thinks fiercely.

It draws a startled look from Charlotte, but there's no time to dwell on that; Angel tells them, "My turn," and drops his suspenders off his shoulders, letting them lie against his hips.

The tattoos that looked as though they were meant to give the impression of being wings-- they shift, and unfurl, and both Erika and Charlotte smile from ear to ear as Angel takes flight, hovering in the air, sliding his hands through his hair and arching his neck and his back to show off for them.

"How would you like a job where you get to keep your clothes on?" Charlotte asks him, and Angel laughs as he settles back down on the ground.

*

"What," Erika whispers, later, much later, her body snugged close against Charlotte's, her hand reaching under Charlotte's skirt, "did you show our new recruit?"

Charlotte clutches at Erika's shoulders, one of her legs coming up around Erika's waist. Erika draws Charlotte's panties aside and reaches beneath them, kissing the side of Charlotte's neck as Charlotte whimpers, squirming against Erika's fingers. «Please...»

"Did he get to see what's under my turtleneck?" Erika breathes, teeth sinking in just the slightest bit. Charlotte reaches between her legs and tries to move Erika's hand where she wants it, but Erika grabs hold of Charlotte's delicate wristwatch and deftly moves Charlotte's hand away, pinning her wrist against the wall just above her head, holding it there with just the lightest application of her ability. "What's under my skirt?"

"Darling, no, no, of course not..." Charlotte tilts her head back, her eyelashes dark on her pale freckled cheek. Those two freckles on her nose... Erika is tempted, as always, to kiss them, one at a time.

But she's rather busy where she is, her fingertips rubbing back and forth against Charlotte's outer lips, just barely parting them, feeling Charlotte's warmth and slickness-- oh, tonight she's going to bury her face between Charlotte's legs and lick her until Charlotte sends screams echoing into Erika's mind.

«Tell me,» Erika sends, growling with it. Charlotte takes in a breathy little gasp, and another, clutching Erika's shoulder with her free hand and squirming down, down, as best she can.

«I can do more than tell you, if you'll just-- Erika, your hand, please, darling, don't tease, it's so unfair of you--»

Erika steps back, settling Charlotte back onto her feet. She peels Charlotte's hand away from her shoulder and pins that with a solid grip, letting Charlotte feel how strong Erika's hands and arms are, how strong she's made them over the years. "You won't get anything more from me until you tell me."

Charlotte swallows, cheeks flushed now, her skirt still rucked up around her waist. She's gorgeous, debauched in a way that Erika isn't fool enough to believe has only ever been for her, but again, looking at this woman... Erika wants to hold her here, keep her close, never let her go.

Charlotte's expression turns fond, just as Erika's rethinking that pledge not to do anything more until Charlotte explains. «You're not alone,» she offers, infusing Erika's mind with her own conviction, a sense of warmth and comfort. «We're two now. More than two... but two, among the rest. You're not alone, love.»

Erika lets Charlotte's wrists go and takes a step backward. «Tell me.»

Charlotte smiles and brushes her skirt marginally back into place. «Come with me.»

She leads Erika into the bathroom and stands beside her, and then her fingertips come up to her temple and--

Erika stands next to Charlotte, her clothes different, her hair slicked down into a style from the 1920s, sleek waves, a curl against her forehead. There's a top hat on her head, tilted down at a similar angle to Angel's, and her clothes match the costume in the ladies' club as well: tuxedo, dress trousers, suspenders, dress shirt unbuttoned to the waist.

Amsterdam had women like this, male impersonators, but Erika's breath never quickened looking at them the way it does, looking at herself. She looks at Charlotte, remembering Angel's reaction. No wonder.

"As I said," Charlotte murmurs. "Beautiful."

"Which of us was a 'naughty little minx' again?" Erika asks. She turns from the mirror completely and sinks to her knees, settling down at Charlotte's feet and pushing her skirt up again. Charlotte reaches down, unsnapping her stockings, wriggling her panties down and off, and Erika helps Charlotte get one leg onto her shoulder as she leans in, already licking her lips in anticipation.

-end-