Cherik One Shots

Every Visit Ends the Same Way

Summary- It was the new norm. Erik finds Charles in the midst of joy, sadness, or indifference and steals the emotion. He fucks the man relentlessly and leaves; there was nothing more to it. Unadulterated, nonconsensual, unwanted. Yet, Charles never stopped it. He could, rather easily, if he wanted, but he never did. Erik knew that. Charles knew Erik knew that. One time, he dares to question and, for once, the visit doesn't end the same way.

Warnings- CNC/non-con/dub-con (not sure which to use), smut, top erik, bottom charles

Word Count-2515

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It was the familiar creak of the window latch that froze Charles in place. He was at perfect peace, having had a wonderful day of teaching and training his X-Men. He was preening himself for bed; he should have known the day was going too well. The soft thump of a landing presence rung through Charles' ears, and he didn't have to look at the source. He knew, all too well.

It had been years since the charade began, way back when he was still a part of them. It had been like this, near midnight, alone in the confines of his room. 'Safe'. Erik had charmed his way in, seemingly friendly, but Charles should have known. His poor habit of trusting without a background check led him to being at Erik's complete and total mercy. He was left the following day brutally sore and bruised, but they both made no effort to mention, challenge, or acknowledge it happened. So, after the events of Cuba, Charles assumed it'd been a one-time affair spurred by Erik's want for an easy release from their camaraderie.

Was he wrong.

It had been a few months after the beach when he'd seen Erik waiting for him in his bed. Not in a romantic or loving way, no. The window was open and the helmet lay atop his head, a sort of torment, foreshadowing as to what was going to proceed. Charles considered fleeing, but almost immediately let himself loose the thought. He closed the door behind him and got to his hands and knees, willed through the metal of his cufflinks and belt buckle.

The visits weren't regularly frequent nor followed a system so preparations could never be made. Charles was always taken by surprise, but there were always two constants: midnight and Charles' room.

Charles considered changing rooms or moving altogether, possibly guaranteeing the end of the affair, but never did. He didn't quite understand it himself. He never liked it, per se, and always begged Erik to stop, stop his abuse. But, his pleadings always rendered useless, meaningless as Erik fucked him sure and hard. Erik never let Charles finish, never touched him more than necessary, never stayed and comforted. Every night ended the same way: Charles, alone, desperately and guiltily bringing himself to an orgasm and then fall into a sleepless rest.

Except tonight.

"Erik," Charles ventured to speak. He hadn't said his name aloud, not whilst he was still in the room. Hell, he hadn't truly talked, not since the first night when the unspoken rules were all new. Charles turned to face him, tall and intimidating, dark figure basking in the new moon. "Why...?"

Although the question fell short, Erik responded, low and sure, "Knowing the answer won't serve you gratification, Charles. Be grateful you can't read my thoughts, and get on the bed." He took a step closer and commanded, "No further questions tonight."

Charles motioned to further his investigation, but ultimately decided against it. He complied, knowing he'd at least gotten a foot in the door. He'd had as normal a conversation as he could've deemed with Erik after three long years. He'd earned the subtle promise of "tonight." No further questions tonight. The verbiage dug at Charles' hopes, occupying any chance of disobeying, and stripped himself bare. He was suddenly eager, spreading his legs, awaiting Erik's move.