Title: New-Fashioned Buggery
Word Count: 4,102
Summary: PWP sequel to Oxford Style, but stands alone easily. Charles decides he's ready to try out sex Erik's way.
Warnings: tiny tiny mentions to non-con in Erik's past
A/N: WOO! It took a bit longer than I expected, but there was a night of drunkeness and a day of hangover hell that delayed this. Also it's fucking long for nothing but the boys sexing it up. (I swear, Erik just didn't want to stop fingering poor Charles. Poor Charles and his greedy ass. *cough*) So! Enjoy, and sorry about the wait.
Erik was still reeling from the contact high of brilliant happiness coming off Charles in waves. They had found someone. Another one. Another person who was willing to come with them, willing to join the fight against Shaw (which was how Erik thought of it, and knew that Charles let him continue to think that) and build up their mutant forces. The person was practically a child, sure: but with the powers he had, and the proper training, and the anger Erik could see in his eyes, he knew this young Alex would work out nicely.
Charles' enthusiasm was bubbling over into Erik, thrumming through his veins with an energy that rushed to Erik's head, making him feel high or drunk, or just plain giddy with Charles' happiness. “Erik.”
Erik turned to look at Charles even as he unlocked their hotel door with a wave of his hand. Erik stopped, mirthful response dying in his throat. The look Charles was giving him – a look filled with lust, an intense darkening of his eyes and wetting of his lips – sent shivers through his body, ending in a quiet thrum of arousal at his groin.
Before Erik could reply Charles was at his lips, his arms, his chest, shoving Erik inside the room and kicking the door shut behind them. Erik let Charles control the kiss, let Charles plunder his mouth with his tongue, nip at his lips with his teeth. Their jackets fell to the floor with their grabbing hands barely away from each other for a moment to do so. Their shoes were next, toed off as their lips never left each other's. “Get the slick,” Charles commanded, breathless as he tugged himself away from Erik.
With one last kiss to Charles' lips, pulling Charles in by his hair just to make sure it lasted, Erik turned away and searched around for their bag. He could hear the rustling of Charles' clothes falling away behind him as he searched, almost driving him to the point of distraction.
Finally he found Charles' bag, tucked under the only chair in the room and hidden beneath his own rucksack. His hands were shaking as he searched through it, dropping the lubricant once in his hurray to get it out.
Erik started to swear under his breath at his own overeagerness as he turned back to the bed, but the words were lost on his lips as his eyes focused on the sight before him. Charles was sprawled casually across the bed, head propped up by pillows against the headboard, hand working steadily between his legs. “Fuck,” Erik breathed.
Remembering how to move again, Erik climbed onto the bed, undoing his button and zip with his mind as he opened the lubricant. He squeezed some out into his palm and started spreading it over Charles' inner thighs, breath coming in soft pants as the tender flesh twitched and moved between his dexterous fingers.
“Erik.” Charles' hand was on his wrist, causing Erik to stop in his preparations. There was a light in Charles' eyes – a nervousness he hadn't seen there since their first time together – that took Erik's breath away. Charles was a handsome, brilliant man in even the worst of situations: but like this, vulnerable, Erik found him almost ethereally beautiful.
“Erik.” Charles' tongue darted between his lips, eyes flickering down to Erik's trousers before returning to his face. Erik waited patiently for him. “I... If you would like, you might want to use the slick a bit... lower.”
Frowning, Erik glanced down between them. He wasn't very used to intercrural sex, sure, but he figured he had done this enough times with Charles to have a basic handle on what he was doing. “What... is it in the wrong place? This is where I always put it.”
A quick breath escaped Charles' mouth, something like a mix between a shaky laugh and an attempt to steel himself. His lips quirked up in a nervous smile. “I meant... we could try it your way, tonight. If you would like.”
Your way. Erik's erection throbbed, pressing so hard between the teeth of his half-open zipper that it approached the point of pain. His way.
Erik rocked back on his haunches, the lube clenched tightly in his hand. Charles was still smiling at him, blue eyes wide and a little bit nervous, but more lusty and trusting than anything else. Erik wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to say “You'd let me?” but that was too vulnerable, too open. Even if Charles could pluck the very question from Erik's mind with hardly a thought, there was something different about saying the words himself, out loud.
So instead he settled with: “Are you sure?”
Charles nodded immediately, though Erik didn't miss the way his hands clenched and unclenched where they were resting on top of the sheets. “I'm sure. Just...” Charles rubbed the back of his hair in an adorably ruffled way. “Is there a way to make it not hurt? I've heard horror stories from some of the chaps who had older brothers in the War, with tearing and blood and...” Charles winced, eyes pleading. “I'd rather not experience that.”
Erik frowned, looking at the lubricant in his hand. “This should help,” he mused.
Charles made a strangled noise, causing Erik's gaze to jerk up back to his. Nervousness looked like it was winning the battle with lust in Charles' expression as his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Should? Haven't you ever...” Charles made a wiggling motion with his fingers that Erik supposed stood for buggery, “without it hurting?”
Grinding his teeth for a moment, Erik thought. Any time he had been on the receiving end had been far from pleasant, but none of those times were supposed to be anything but. He knew some boys liked it, though, so it mustn't always hurt. He had never prepared anyone himself besides with some spit or maybe grease if the boy had it handy. But he had never been with someone like Charles, who had never been penetrated before – at least, not to Erik's knowledge.
“I've heard it doesn't have to,” he said slowly. “The lubricant does help, but I'm not sure what else to do to prepare you – if there is anything else I can do.”
Charles' fingers were fiddling with each other as he stared down at them, seemingly lost in thought. “The anus is a muscle, just like any other,” he finally said, speaking slowly. Erik shifted in his position on the bed and listened. “If we stretch it, just like we might stretch our legs before a run, it will probably hurt less once we begin to, er... exercise it, as it were.”
Erik glanced down at Charles' thighs, eyes seeking out the space between them and sliding back. He swallowed. “I could do that. Do you want to do it this way or-?”
But Charles was already turning over onto his stomach, stretching his arms above his head as he settled in. Turning his face to the side, Charles quirked an eyebrow over his shoulder at Erik. “Let's do it this way to start. No reason to impede your line of sight this first go-round.”
Grimacing a little at Charles' practicality, Erik quickly relieved himself of the rest of his clothes before straddling Charles' thighs. He ran a hand down Charles' back, green eyes rapt as he watched Charles' muscles twitch and move beneath his hand, watched his firm skin depress just slightly beneath his fingertips. When he cupped one big hand over Charles' arse and squeezed, Charles rolled his hips backward in a sensuous arch, moaning softly.
“Stay as relaxed as you can,” Erik warned. “I've found that helps – to try and let your muscles go limp.”
Erik waited for Charles to nod his confirmation, and then for his back to rise and fall as Charles sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Only when Charles' shoulders loosened, tension slowly draining away from them, did Erik remove his hand and begin to slick it up again. “One finger, wouldn't you?” Charles' voice was all bluster and false confidence as Erik began to part Charles' cheeks with his left hand, examining the entrance which lay hidden beneath.
“Of course,” Erik murmured.
At first he only trailed his slicked fingers over Charles' hole, getting it good and wet before dribbling more lubricant onto his long fingers. The bed would be a mess by the time they were finished, but Charles could always trick the maid into getting them new sheets before they fell asleep. As Erik pressed his fingers against Charles' hole again, he felt the young man shiver beneath him.
Carefully Erik massaged the furled little entrance, rubbing and rubbing at it until Charles felt like warm lead beneath his hands. Breath held, Erik tried pushing one finger in. It slid in with little resistance, though Charles' body instinctively clenched around it once it was buried inside. “Okay?” Erik asked, moving his finger in only the smallest wiggles as he watched for Charles' reaction.
“Fine,” Charles said. His voice was curious, almost clinical: like he was observing the sensations and cataloging them away for later examination. “Doesn't hurt,” he mused. “Just feels a bit strange. But certainly not painful. Not yet, at least.”
Nodding, Erik pulled his fingers out and poured more lubricant on them, as well as over Charles' shining wet entrance. No matter what Charles said, Erik certainly wasn't going to let himself hurt Charles – not even by accident.
When he pushed two fingers in Charles shifted, humming low in his throat. Erik froze, eyes darting over Charles' profile pressed against the pillows. “Okay?”
Charles nodded. “Definitely more,” he huffed. “But still not painful. Just... stretch it a bit, if you could, love? Before the next finger, that is.”
Erik nodded, slowly dragging his fingers out and pushing them back in several times before he moved them at all. When he did, he kept them buried inside Charles, wiggling just the first knuckles of the two fingers inside them. Charles stiffened, then groaned as entire body relaxed. “Ah. Something to be said for this,” he murmured into the sheets.
“It feels good?” Erik frowned down at where his fingers disappeared into Charles, surprised. He had never experienced any pleasure from having things inside of him, but Charles was humming happily under his fingers, as if it was truly enjoyable.
“Stimulating,” Charles agreed. “More sensuous than when your hand or mouth is on me. More like... like when your erection slides over my perineum when we're having sex. It's more of a smoulder than a burn.”
Emboldened by Charles' words, Erik wriggled his fingers further apart inside of him, stretching and pushing at Charles' inner walls. When Charles made no complaints, Erik removed his hand again, recoated it, and slipped three fingers in.
Erik froze. A flicker of discomfort had marred Charles' features as he had pushed three long digits inside. “Should I-” Erik made to pull out.
“No, no.” Charles reached a hand backwards, searching for Erik's wrist. He didn't make contact, but Erik slid his fingers back in anyway, obeying the request. Charles' face was still scrunched up, however, and that made Erik worry.
“Are you sure? We can stop.”
“If Caesar did it, so can I,” Charles gritted out. “And it just feels like a tight stretch, is all. Do what you were doing earlier: moving them around inside. It should relax me and stretch me at the same time.”
“So efficient.” Erik's words had an edge of snappishness to them, which Erik immediately regretted as soon as he heard it in his voice. But he was worried.
Still, Erik shifted his fingers slowly inside Charles, moving them around, pushing at the muscles inside, stretching them out as gently as he could. After stopping once more to relubricate his fingers, Charles was starting to push back against them, face no longer pained. And when Charles' body had loosened up enough to allow a degree of freedom of movement for Erik's long digits, they managed to find a small, spongy gland inside Charles that had him hissing and bucking backwards. Erik froze for a second, until he realized he sweat breaking out on Charles' forehead and the way he was gritting his teeth was a wholly good reaction.
“Do you like this?” Erik whispered. The way Charles was moving back against his hand, broken gasps escaping his swollen red lips every time Erik fucked his fingers into him, had Erik awed. Awed, and not just a little turned on.
“I love this,” Charles groaned, sounding almost as awed as Erik felt. Pushing himself up on his hands and knees, Charles rocked himself back on Erik still buried deep inside him. Erik watched with blown pupils, unable to do much else but let Charles use his fingers as his very own sex toy. When a shudder went through Charles' body he stopped, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Though I think I'd rather like a sampling of the main course, now.”
Erik's eyes widened as Charles grinned back at him, own smile slow to reply. When it did Erik felt like he was probably showing too much teeth, like he probably looked all too predatory in Charles' eyes. But Charles only groaned as Erik removed his fingers, head hanging almost dejectedly between his shoulders as his waited on hands and knees for Erik.
With trembling, too-slick hands Erik poured even more lubricant into his palm, rubbing it over his erection as he fumbled to align himself with Charles' body. It was similar to how they had intercrural sex in position, only this time Erik was going to be entering a space tighter than Charles' thighs. The thought sent shivers down his spine, forcing Erik to pinch the base of his erection as he took a calming breath.
“Are you ready for this?”
A huffing laugh escaped Charles lips as he canted his hips back to Erik, arse rubbing against Erik's erection tantalizingly. “Let's find out,” he breathed.
With one hand on the base of his erection and the other pressed to Charles' back, Erik slowly guided himself in. He felt Charles tense, then force himself to relax as he released a shuddering breath, exhaling in time with Erik entering him. Erik did his best to think of Charles' comfort, to make sure he wasn't hurting him too badly, but Erik's mind was more than a little bit gone as that tight, wet heat encircled him.
When he was fully seated Erik stopped, listening to Charles suck in a ragged breath and let it out just as brokenly. Erik rubbed patterns into the small of Charles' back with his palm, his other hand stroking up and down Charles' thigh. “How are you?”
Charles nodded jerkily, his voice sounded tight. “Okay. Stretched. Just give me a-” he stopped, turning his head slightly back to Erik. “Could I...”
Erik's eyes flickered to Charles' fingers moving on the sheets, and immediately knew what he wanted. “Go ahead.”
He felt Charles' mind enter his, sifting through his senses, cataloging his pleasure with the hunger of a starving man. Erik waited, buried inside Charles, trying not to focus too hard on how tight he was around him, how Charles' body burned around him with a sort of internal heat the space between his thighs had never generated. In his mind Charles lapped up the sensations, Erik's desire and lust, then came back for more.
Beneath his hands and around his cock Erik could feel Charles relaxing, muscles loosening as he joined in Erik's pleasure. Then the presence in his mind was gone, and Charles was rocking himself back against Erik, sending little spikes of pleasure through Erik's system. “Okay.” His voice sounded less tight now, more heavy with arousal as he increased his small movements. “Okay.”
After one deep breath in Erik pulled slowly out, exhaling as he pushed back in. He heard a quiet “Fuck,” escape Charles' mouth on a puff of air, like Erik had pushed it right out of him. Erik repeated the motion, slow and steady, watching Charles' every response. It was only when Charles was moving back to meet him on every thrust that Erik began to relax some of the fierce control he was keeping over himself, and enjoy the feel of penetrating Charles.
Erik's head titled back as he closed his eyes, fucking into Charles with steady thrusts. The sex that had been having was good, there was no doubt about it. In fact, Erik had been constantly surprised at just how good it had felt to fuck Charles' thighs, and how satisfied Charles always left him feeling. But compared to this... Erik groaned as his fingers slipped over Charles' hips, before gripping him harder. The difference between fucking Charles' thighs and actually entering his lithe, tight body was as disparate as gold and steel. One was all malleable, warm softness, the other a clenching vice that Erik never wanted to leave.
And the heat. Erik's hands slipped on Charles' hips as sweat began to form, so he moved one to grab onto the back of Charles' neck. Charles just canted to his touch and groaned, hips pressing back harder with every one of Erik's thrusts. The heat from Charles' body surrounding Erik was ten, twenty, a hundredfold what he found between Charles' thighs. It was entering a nuclear reactor when he had been smelting over a wood-burning forge his entire life.
The broken sob that escaped Charles' lips snapped Erik's attention back to the man fucking himself back onto him. He gasped, gazing down at Charles. “Yes?”
“Please.” Charles shook his head desperately for a moment, before an image flashed through Erik's mind: his hand, wrapped around Charles' erection, jerking him roughly to completion. Erik understood that.
Extracting his fingers from Charles' hip, Erik reached around and took Charles in hand, stroking him in time with his thrusts. His other hand's grip tightened on Charles' neck, fingers slipping then grasping again as he slammed his hips into Charles. “Close?”
All Charles managed was a hurried nod and a broken sob as he fucked himself up onto Erik, hips rolling backwards to meet him in a furious rhythm of slapping skin and flexing muscles. Erik's arousal coiled tight in his groin at the noise, and silently he cursed Charles for being so impossibly beautiful as he fell apart beneath Erik's hands. He stroked Charles faster, trying to get Charles to come before he did, but it was a lost cause. With one last thrust, Erik was grunting his release, pouring into Charles as his legs trembled and eyes fluttered shut.
Through all the twitches and aftershocks, Erik continued to weakly jerk Charles. He barely registered Charles' hand joining his own until Charles was crying out his release, body tightening impossibly, practically painfully around Erik's spent member.
Using his hand still on Charles' neck, Erik pushed him to the bed, sliding out with a broken groan. Charles' voice joined his at the motion, body melting into the sheets like quicksilver over an open palm.
Erik lay himself down next to Charles, wearily watching his back rise and fall with short, panting breaths. After a moment's contemplation Erik propped himself up onto his elbows, gazing down the smooth lines of Charles' body. Almost without thinking Erik reached a hand out, parting the white globes of Charles' arse and looking casually at it. His hole looked red and tired, slick glistening all over, even – to Erik's fascination and exhausted arousal – some of Erik's come dribbling out.
Charles made a plaintive sound beneath Erik's hands, so he pulled away, pressing a kiss to Charles' shoulder before he rolled off the bed. Rummaging around in his bag for a moment, Erik returned to the bed with a pack of cigarettes and box of matches. He struck one up for himself before turning to Charles, prodding him with the pack.
It was only after three prods with the box of cigarettes to Charles' shoulder that he turned his head to look. Erik's face broke into a grin around his cigarette. Charles' hair was wild, sticking up in all directions, and his face blotchy and flushed. When Charles' eyes drifted up to Erik's face he frowned, sarcastic British manner overcoming his in an instant. “Don't have to look so bloody smug about it,” he groused. When Charles pressed the cigarette to his mouth, Erik lit it for him, shaking the match out and throwing it over the side of bed once it was.
“If you could see yourself right now,” Erik mumbled, stroking a hand down Charles' sweaty face. He felt a brief tug on his mind, and then Charles was flushing harder, rolling away from Erik and throwing an arm over his eyes.
“I look like a damned Roman slave boy, fucked and ravished by his master,” he grumbled.
Erik's laugh was barking as Charles took a drag from his cigarette, other arm not leaving his face. Letting his eyes trail down Charles' body, Erik was pleased to see his chest flushed as well, beneath the spatterings of still-wet come that dotted it.
Shifting himself on the bed so their shoulders brushed, Erik flicked ash from his cigarette over the side of the bed before taking another drag. With feigned casualness that he knew Charles would see right through, he asked: “Didn't damage you too much, did I?”
Charles' voice wasn't patronizing in the least as he removed his arm from his face, blue eyes darting to meet Erik's. “No,” he said: carefully, decisively. Erik frowned and wondered if Charles was saying it for his benefit. No, Charles' voice said in his head. Feel.
Erik winced as Charles dragged him into his sensory experience. It did hurt: Charles' arse felt sore, burning: like a mouth spread wide for too long at the dentist, or a calf muscle burning after a too-long run. The ache wasn't anything near what Erik had experienced at the hands of less considerate men, but it still hurt.
No, Charles' mind poked and prodded Erik's, almost like it was pushing him into position. Feel.
And then Erik realized what it was Charles had been trying to get him to focus on. He could feel the thrum of satiated arousal permeating Charles' system, the adrenaline and endorphins flowing through his veins. He could feel Charles' groin, weak and spent in all the best ways, and his mouth swollen and sore from kissing him. Beneath all that, Erik could feel something else: some sort of bubbling, insane happiness, a wellspring in the center of Charles' soul that was pulsing with Erik, Erik, Erik.
Erik tugged his mind away from Charles', eyes sliding away at the same time. “Okay,” he muttered, trying not to think about the emotions Charles had laid bare for him; Charles had wanted him to see. “I get it.”
When Charles put his cigarette out, only to wrap his arms around Erik and pull him close, Erik should have wanted to run. Erik should have stubbed out his cigarette, dragged on his clothes, and left Charles in this meager hotel room to search for mutants on his own. Erik had more important, grander, more meaningful things to worry about than some bizarrely fascinating and sinfully beautiful young man's feelings.
The only thing Erik did end up doing was stubbing out his cigarette on the bedside table, before wrapping his arms around Charles and squeezing him even closer. Thank you, Charles murmured in his mind, mental voice sleepy.
Erik hummed something under his breath, not willing to give voice to his thoughts even as he knew Charles was looking at them, peering into his soul and laying it bare for his own curiosity.
Charles' breath was soft and warm against Erik's chest as he started to fall asleep. His final words before drifting off were hardly more than a mumbled caress in Erik's mind. But my arse will need a reprieve before we do that again.