Casual

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Summary- f-buddying turned angsty in the passenger seat when getting eaten out.

Warnings- smut (shocking, ikr), bit O' angst, development, PORN WITH PLOT, no resolution, somewhat unhappy ending

Word count- 3242

***

The first time was an honest accident.

Charles was on his way to brew some tea in the kitchen and passed Erik in the hall, to which he admitted to going to the gym. Donned in sweats, Charles found no need to question and resumed his course. Once he finished his brew and the scolding liquid grazed his top lip, he heard something.

No.

He felt something.

"Oh, Erik," Charles whispered to himself in amused astonishment, shifting now uncomfortably in his seat. "You naughty boy."

An abundant array of obscene imagery flooded Charles' mind, all connecting to one deliciously particular scene: Charles sprawled out over the sheets belonging to a certain manipulator of metal, legs hiked up, and open wide for the incoming fucking. Erik envisioned grasping Charles' ankles, pushing his legs as far forward as possible, utilizing the buckle from his own belt to keep the professor's wrists secure above his head, and mumbled sweet nothings as he shallowly began thrusting inside of him.

Charles knew this was prying,— especially since he zeroed in and focused with the tips of his fingers to his temple— knew that is was morally wrong, but Erik was thinking too damn loud for him not to notice and, to be quite honest, he was fairly intrigued. He was the star of the show, after all. Even if it was slightly humiliating being so feminized and submissive to someone he considered a dear friend, he was truly surprised to find himself enjoying it. Charles Xavier relinquishing all power to Erik Lehnsherr... hmm.

Charles had to think very carefully as to what he could do in this situation— which was very difficult as Erik's pace in both fantasy and reality increased vigorously. He could pretend he never received the ill, unintentional projections, and go about drinking his tea. Or— and, for Christ sake, he loved or— he could knock on the mental door to Erik's fantasy and ask to join. Either way, Charles was not going to stop craving the knowledge of what it would feel like to be fucked, fucked by a man, fucked by Erik. It was so tempting, so terribly tempting. It would be so easy, and he knows Erik would say yes. Even if he said no, Erik would never know, Charles simply removing that memory and going back to plan A.

Thus, he reached his decision.

'Hello, my friend,' Charles began in a smooth, unthreatening tone. 'Quite the workout. Care if I join?'

Charles could almost hear the toothy grin, sensing Erik did not falter in the slightest. 'It seems my answer won't surprise you, detective.'

'Is that a 'yes', darling?' Charles was already abandoning his cup, steadfast to Erik's room.

'Bring lubricant. I'm going to fuck you raw, Charles.'

With that deliciously freighting thought brewing, Charles beelined for some petroleum jelly he figured would work best and then near knocked down Erik's door. "Hello."

"Hi," Erik grinned, one hand fisting the base of his cock as he sat on the edge of his bed, the other beckoning Charles forward with two fingers— two fingers that Charles could hardly wait to be inside of him. At the foot of his bed, Erik grappled onto the tie adorning his neck and yanked him down onto his mouth. "Mmm."

"Oh, God, Erik," Charles gasped, preening as Erik flipped them around, Charles' back pressed into the mattress and his clothed cock being roughly massaged by Erik's. "Fuck."

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