Fic: The Disk
Dec. 23rd, 2011 03:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinelagrandeTitle: The Disk
Summary: Armando is adapting, but to what exactly?
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 2556
Rating/Contents: NC-17, happy fun times AU (with no beach divorces etc), blatant power misuse on everybody's part (but really, come on, if you had powers and could do sexy things with them you would do it)
Pairing: Darwin/Erik
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: The only thing I have to say about this story is "aww yiss." That and that it was SO HARD to not have Erik say, "Come on, baby, just the tip" to Charles in one particular scene (but isn't it always?).
Armando is, as far as Erik is concerned, as far as Erik can see, fairly uncomplicated. He's friendly, excited, proud of what he is in a way that makes Erik proud of him. They've had nothing but good interactions, so far; Erik would go so far as to say he likes him. There's one thing, though, one thing that sticks in the back of his mind, something Erik has absolutely no explanation for.
On Armando's back, right at the base of his spine, is a disk of metal.
Erik can't tell what kind; if it's connected to Armando's power, it could be unique, as far as Erik knows. He does know, however, from feeling out the vibrations that come off it, that he could move it if he wanted. Stranger still, it doesn't stay the same shape. Sometimes it's no bigger than a coin; sometimes it expands, sometimes to the size of a hand, sometimes even larger than that.
And then, sometimes it's gone entirely.
Erik just can't suss out what Armando is adapting to. It couldn't be a past injury, because Armando just doesn't get injured like that; besides, it doesn't explain why it would change. It's a mystery, and Erik isn't particularly patient with mysteries; of course, he sets to solving it as quickly as possible.
The most obvious thing to do is to walk right up and ask him, but lately- largely due to Charles's influence- Erik has learned to be a little more subtle than that. It's possible Armando doesn't even know what he's doing; it's possible it's something he's ashamed or sensitive about. So, going down the list of obvious things to do, the next is to figure out what happens when, when he adapts and doesn't.
Sleeping is right off the list. Erik's room is only a few doors down, close enough that Erik can feel almost everything in there, anything that's at least the size of the change on his dresser. Also out, it seems, is when Erik isn't in the same room with him. He's gotten used to tracking people around the house, with varying degrees of success depending on their fashion choices, but Armando wears a wristwatch, which makes everything much easier.
That leaves times when they're together, and if it were just an off/on proposition this would be so much easier. Sitting around the table at a meal, the metal is barely there, the size of a silver dollar, perhaps. A little bigger when Charles is lecturing them about something, some finer point of his grand scheme to make the world a better place; it gets bigger still when Erik looks over at him, rolling his eyes affectionately, and Armando grins.
In the Danger Room, that's when it gets absolutely perplexing. They tend to do a lot of training together; using their powers against each other, they come to a stalemate pretty quickly, but combining them is a whole lot more interesting. Erik can do so much with what's around him, but he's ultimately fragile, in a way that annoys him greatly; Armando's powers are passive, but when he's there to shield Erik from what Erik can't handle on his own, they have a tendency to be pretty unstoppable.
Here's the part where it all stops making sense, the hazy theory that Erik is starting to build with regards to Darwin's mysterious metal disk: when they're fighting against each other, no metal; when they're fighting with each other, except a few times when his body has thrown up a whole armor of the stuff, no metal.
He could almost explain that- having metal anywhere on his body would be maladaptive while Erik was trying actively to kick his ass- if it weren't for what comes afterwards. Afterwards, when they're both sweating everywhere and grinning at each other, at what strikes Erik as the most dangerous time, as nice as it is, the point where their resources are taxed and their guards are down, the disk has never been bigger.
This has all gotten ridiculous, and Erik is starting to get the sense that Armando knows what's going on, or at least that Erik is studying him. However, he doesn't seem to mind at all that Erik is suddenly so interested. He just smiles when he sees Erik looking, in a way that Erik is starting to think is a little inviting. Erik is taken aback by that at first, worrying that he's given Armando the wrong impression entirely.
He thinks this for about fifteen minutes, whereupon he realizes he has absolutely no problem with Armando having that impression at all.
This goes on for quite some time- which is to say that nothing really happens, and Erik makes no progress at all. It gets to the point where it's annoying him very, very much, and while this is happening, Erik makes the huge mistake of getting drunk with a telepath.
It's not like Erik hasn't gotten drunk with this particular telepath before; indeed, he and Charles have done a whole host of things together, having a few drinks being among the most prosaic. They haven't been doing it often lately- not at the house, anyway- not when they've been trying to be such good role models. This is a special occasion, however; the fact that the occasion in question is "No one blew anything up today" is not important.
As Charles pours Erik another glass of whiskey, there's a knock on the open door of the study; Charles straightens up immediately, like he's just been caught by the teacher, but Erik doesn't look up at first. "Up so late, Armando?" he says before he turns around; he smiles to himself, because with the insulation of the alcohol it's just hilarious to him right now.
"How did you know-" Armando looks down at his own wrist. "Oh, very funny," he says, but he just sounds amused; there is definitely no way Erik is even going to think about thinking about the fact that that's not what he recognized at all.
Charles gives him a confused look. Again, drinking with a telepath: sometimes a mistake.
"I saw the light," Armando says. "Just thought I'd stop by and say good night."
"Yes, of course," Charles says, smiling brightly, waving grandly at him. "Have a fantastic night, and I really mean that."
Armando looks over at Erik, grinning, and shrugs; he just grins back, but something about Armando's face tells him that it looks a little more suggestive than he expected. "Good night," Erik says, and Armando raises an eyebrow just the slightest bit.
"Night, guys," he says, leaving, and Erik follows him down the hall; it's only a few meters before the disk winks out again.
Charles looks at him over the desk. "What in the world was that?"
Erik starts to say something, but he shakes his head, pursing his lips. "It's nothing."
"Oh, it is not nothing," Charles says. "You just- what's the thing in his back? He must know you know. What could he possibly be adapting to?"
"I have no idea," Erik admits, sitting back in his chair. He looks at Charles, conspiratorially. "You know, you could easily-"
"Oh, no," Charles says, bashful more than scandalized, like he's enjoying the compliment but doesn't want to show it. "I couldn't possibly."
"It'll only take a minute," Erik cajoles.
"If I must," he says, exaggeratedly. "The things I do for you." He points a finger at Erik. "I'm only skimming, mind, and if I have to push in at all-"
"Oh, of course," Erik assures him. "I wouldn't expect that."
Charles raises his unsteady fingers to his temple, leaning his head on them for support. "Why can I never- No, that's Hank, he has the most boring dreams, it's just to the- to the down, actually- right, so, there he is." He closes his eyes in concentration, but pretty soon they fly open. "Oh," he says. "Oh, oh my."
Erik looks at him skeptically. "What is it?"
Charles tries to say something, but he cracks up before he can. "Oh god," he says, slapping his hand against the desk. "Oh god, I can't even- I did not need to know that-"
"Charles?" Erik says, staring at him. "What is it?"
"You bastard, you absolute bastard," Charles says, wiping the tears from his eyes, still laughing uncontrollably. "You set me up, I am completely going to get you back-"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Erik insists.
Charles looks at him, wide eyed. "You can't possibly-" He breaks out into laughter again. "Here, I can't even-" he waves at Erik. "Give me your hand, it'll be easier."
Erik laces his fingers into Charles's, and his mind fills up immediately. "Oh," is all he can manage to say, and Charles puts his head down on the desk and laughs until he just can't anymore.
--
It's too tempting not to act on his new knowledge, not when they've wasted a little too much time already. Still, that doesn't make it easy to find the right opening- it's not like he's Charles, he can't just leave a message on someone's mental chalkboard and tell them to come over.
Two days later, though, he's got just the right opportunity. They've just finished a session in the Danger Room; it's particularly good, because they've actually convinced Hank to come out for once, try something other than watching from the observation room. Charles is beaming at everyone, telling everyone how very proud he is, how well it's gone; he and Armando are in the back, and Erik leans over just so, so that their arms are brushing, as if he's going to say something. Armando turns towards him, and before he can say anything, Erik tugs gently at the disk. Armando looks at him in surprise; Erik grins, dirtily, and it takes Armando about thirty seconds to catch up to what's going on.
Erik looks around, wondering what excuses he should make, but no one's paying attention to either of them. Armando nods towards the door, and they slip out.
They walk quickly; when they get to the fork in the hallway, Erik tugs on him again, directing him towards Erik's room, which is so much closer, though it still seems very far away. Finally, the door shuts behind them. "How did you know?" Armando asks. He pauses. "I mean, I don't know what you know," he says carefully. "There might not be anything to know."
"Charles," Erik says apologetically. "I knew there was something going on-"
"Yeah, yeah, and Charles caught me thinking and put it together," Armando says, rolling his eyes and nodding. "That's the risk you run living with a telepath."
"Anyway," Erik says, pulling Armando closer to him, and now the metal is spreading all over, right up his spine; it's so easy to catch hold of him like this, pull him in tight. It's ridiculous, fabulous, thrilling, the idea that Armando's been adapting to him, to his power; his body is reacting to his need to have Erik close, make it so that nothing has to stand between them, not even their clumsy, clutching hands. "We've got better things to do than talk about Charles."
Armando leans in then, kissing him nice and hard. "I'm thinking about the shower," he says, and Erik is torn; he smells really good like this, like fresh sweat, but he has a feeling that's going to get old quickly.
Erik reaches out, twisting the knobs on the shower, pulling back the curtain rings. "After you," he says, pushing Armando away, urging him on. They're throwing off clothes as they go, and it's probably going to be hard to sort them later, but Erik couldn't possibly care about that, not when it's so much more important and productive to stare at Armando's ass.
The water in the shower is too warm, because Erik's not that good, but that's really secondary; Erik barely even remembers to pull the curtain shut. How could he, how could he ever be expected to worry about things like that when Armando is there, naked and wet and ready for him?
He lets himself fall back against the back wall and uses the metal to drag Armando in, spreading his legs so he can pull him in between them. It's so good that Armando doesn't have to worry about bracing himself, because it means he has both hands to take hold of Erik's head, tilting it just the right way so that he can kiss him deeply, so deep, like he wants to crawl right into Erik and not come out.
Erik pulls a little harder and there it is, their cocks rubbing together; he pushes up against him, grinding hard. He reaches down and grabs Armando's ass; he doesn't need the support, just wants to feel it under his hands, the muscles there working as Armando presses against him, rubbing hard.
It's good, it's amazing, but it's almost too much; Erik reaches down blindly for something to make it better, slick them up, pouring- whatever this is, creme rinse, does he own creme rinse?- over both their cocks, and that's it right there, nice and slippery, the two of them sliding against each other. He's moving Armando now, using the metal so his whole body rocks against Erik's; it feels so much like Erik's fucking him, the way they're pressed together, and he's going to do that, he's going to do that just as soon as Armando lets him.
Armando is groaning, leaning down to bite at Erik's neck, pinching at his nipples; he reaches down and wraps his hand around Erik's, pressing them tighter together. "Yeah," he says, moving them faster. "That's right, give it up, wanna see it, Erik," and Erik does exactly what he says, pulling him in so hard, his dick shooting all over both of them. Armando is with him, right there behind him, moaning loudly as he comes.
It occurs to Erik that he's wet, and it takes him a minute for him to even remember that they're in the shower. "Jesus Christ," Armando says, resting his head on the wall beside Erik's. "Hold on, man, I don't think- are my feet on the floor?"
Erik looks down; apparently not. "Here, watch out," he says, lowering him; Armando is still shaky when he straightens up, and Erik can't help but notice the way his fingers grow suckers when he braces himself on the slick wall of the shower.
And then they're standing there, looking at each other.
"So," Armando says. "I'm not sure what you want to do about this." His tone of voice suggests that he's already decided what he wants to do.
Erik just looks at him for a moment. "I want to wash my hair," he says, honestly, because that is the foremost thought in his mind right at the moment, seeing how the rest of it's just leaked out his ears. Armando's expression falls, until Erik adds, "and then I want to take you to bed and do all that again."
Armando grins widely, leaning forward to kiss him.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/365015.html.
comments over there.
Summary: Armando is adapting, but to what exactly?
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 2556
Rating/Contents: NC-17, happy fun times AU (with no beach divorces etc), blatant power misuse on everybody's part (but really, come on, if you had powers and could do sexy things with them you would do it)
Pairing: Darwin/Erik
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: The only thing I have to say about this story is "aww yiss." That and that it was SO HARD to not have Erik say, "Come on, baby, just the tip" to Charles in one particular scene (but isn't it always?).
Armando is, as far as Erik is concerned, as far as Erik can see, fairly uncomplicated. He's friendly, excited, proud of what he is in a way that makes Erik proud of him. They've had nothing but good interactions, so far; Erik would go so far as to say he likes him. There's one thing, though, one thing that sticks in the back of his mind, something Erik has absolutely no explanation for.
On Armando's back, right at the base of his spine, is a disk of metal.
Erik can't tell what kind; if it's connected to Armando's power, it could be unique, as far as Erik knows. He does know, however, from feeling out the vibrations that come off it, that he could move it if he wanted. Stranger still, it doesn't stay the same shape. Sometimes it's no bigger than a coin; sometimes it expands, sometimes to the size of a hand, sometimes even larger than that.
And then, sometimes it's gone entirely.
Erik just can't suss out what Armando is adapting to. It couldn't be a past injury, because Armando just doesn't get injured like that; besides, it doesn't explain why it would change. It's a mystery, and Erik isn't particularly patient with mysteries; of course, he sets to solving it as quickly as possible.
The most obvious thing to do is to walk right up and ask him, but lately- largely due to Charles's influence- Erik has learned to be a little more subtle than that. It's possible Armando doesn't even know what he's doing; it's possible it's something he's ashamed or sensitive about. So, going down the list of obvious things to do, the next is to figure out what happens when, when he adapts and doesn't.
Sleeping is right off the list. Erik's room is only a few doors down, close enough that Erik can feel almost everything in there, anything that's at least the size of the change on his dresser. Also out, it seems, is when Erik isn't in the same room with him. He's gotten used to tracking people around the house, with varying degrees of success depending on their fashion choices, but Armando wears a wristwatch, which makes everything much easier.
That leaves times when they're together, and if it were just an off/on proposition this would be so much easier. Sitting around the table at a meal, the metal is barely there, the size of a silver dollar, perhaps. A little bigger when Charles is lecturing them about something, some finer point of his grand scheme to make the world a better place; it gets bigger still when Erik looks over at him, rolling his eyes affectionately, and Armando grins.
In the Danger Room, that's when it gets absolutely perplexing. They tend to do a lot of training together; using their powers against each other, they come to a stalemate pretty quickly, but combining them is a whole lot more interesting. Erik can do so much with what's around him, but he's ultimately fragile, in a way that annoys him greatly; Armando's powers are passive, but when he's there to shield Erik from what Erik can't handle on his own, they have a tendency to be pretty unstoppable.
Here's the part where it all stops making sense, the hazy theory that Erik is starting to build with regards to Darwin's mysterious metal disk: when they're fighting against each other, no metal; when they're fighting with each other, except a few times when his body has thrown up a whole armor of the stuff, no metal.
He could almost explain that- having metal anywhere on his body would be maladaptive while Erik was trying actively to kick his ass- if it weren't for what comes afterwards. Afterwards, when they're both sweating everywhere and grinning at each other, at what strikes Erik as the most dangerous time, as nice as it is, the point where their resources are taxed and their guards are down, the disk has never been bigger.
This has all gotten ridiculous, and Erik is starting to get the sense that Armando knows what's going on, or at least that Erik is studying him. However, he doesn't seem to mind at all that Erik is suddenly so interested. He just smiles when he sees Erik looking, in a way that Erik is starting to think is a little inviting. Erik is taken aback by that at first, worrying that he's given Armando the wrong impression entirely.
He thinks this for about fifteen minutes, whereupon he realizes he has absolutely no problem with Armando having that impression at all.
This goes on for quite some time- which is to say that nothing really happens, and Erik makes no progress at all. It gets to the point where it's annoying him very, very much, and while this is happening, Erik makes the huge mistake of getting drunk with a telepath.
It's not like Erik hasn't gotten drunk with this particular telepath before; indeed, he and Charles have done a whole host of things together, having a few drinks being among the most prosaic. They haven't been doing it often lately- not at the house, anyway- not when they've been trying to be such good role models. This is a special occasion, however; the fact that the occasion in question is "No one blew anything up today" is not important.
As Charles pours Erik another glass of whiskey, there's a knock on the open door of the study; Charles straightens up immediately, like he's just been caught by the teacher, but Erik doesn't look up at first. "Up so late, Armando?" he says before he turns around; he smiles to himself, because with the insulation of the alcohol it's just hilarious to him right now.
"How did you know-" Armando looks down at his own wrist. "Oh, very funny," he says, but he just sounds amused; there is definitely no way Erik is even going to think about thinking about the fact that that's not what he recognized at all.
Charles gives him a confused look. Again, drinking with a telepath: sometimes a mistake.
"I saw the light," Armando says. "Just thought I'd stop by and say good night."
"Yes, of course," Charles says, smiling brightly, waving grandly at him. "Have a fantastic night, and I really mean that."
Armando looks over at Erik, grinning, and shrugs; he just grins back, but something about Armando's face tells him that it looks a little more suggestive than he expected. "Good night," Erik says, and Armando raises an eyebrow just the slightest bit.
"Night, guys," he says, leaving, and Erik follows him down the hall; it's only a few meters before the disk winks out again.
Charles looks at him over the desk. "What in the world was that?"
Erik starts to say something, but he shakes his head, pursing his lips. "It's nothing."
"Oh, it is not nothing," Charles says. "You just- what's the thing in his back? He must know you know. What could he possibly be adapting to?"
"I have no idea," Erik admits, sitting back in his chair. He looks at Charles, conspiratorially. "You know, you could easily-"
"Oh, no," Charles says, bashful more than scandalized, like he's enjoying the compliment but doesn't want to show it. "I couldn't possibly."
"It'll only take a minute," Erik cajoles.
"If I must," he says, exaggeratedly. "The things I do for you." He points a finger at Erik. "I'm only skimming, mind, and if I have to push in at all-"
"Oh, of course," Erik assures him. "I wouldn't expect that."
Charles raises his unsteady fingers to his temple, leaning his head on them for support. "Why can I never- No, that's Hank, he has the most boring dreams, it's just to the- to the down, actually- right, so, there he is." He closes his eyes in concentration, but pretty soon they fly open. "Oh," he says. "Oh, oh my."
Erik looks at him skeptically. "What is it?"
Charles tries to say something, but he cracks up before he can. "Oh god," he says, slapping his hand against the desk. "Oh god, I can't even- I did not need to know that-"
"Charles?" Erik says, staring at him. "What is it?"
"You bastard, you absolute bastard," Charles says, wiping the tears from his eyes, still laughing uncontrollably. "You set me up, I am completely going to get you back-"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Erik insists.
Charles looks at him, wide eyed. "You can't possibly-" He breaks out into laughter again. "Here, I can't even-" he waves at Erik. "Give me your hand, it'll be easier."
Erik laces his fingers into Charles's, and his mind fills up immediately. "Oh," is all he can manage to say, and Charles puts his head down on the desk and laughs until he just can't anymore.
--
It's too tempting not to act on his new knowledge, not when they've wasted a little too much time already. Still, that doesn't make it easy to find the right opening- it's not like he's Charles, he can't just leave a message on someone's mental chalkboard and tell them to come over.
Two days later, though, he's got just the right opportunity. They've just finished a session in the Danger Room; it's particularly good, because they've actually convinced Hank to come out for once, try something other than watching from the observation room. Charles is beaming at everyone, telling everyone how very proud he is, how well it's gone; he and Armando are in the back, and Erik leans over just so, so that their arms are brushing, as if he's going to say something. Armando turns towards him, and before he can say anything, Erik tugs gently at the disk. Armando looks at him in surprise; Erik grins, dirtily, and it takes Armando about thirty seconds to catch up to what's going on.
Erik looks around, wondering what excuses he should make, but no one's paying attention to either of them. Armando nods towards the door, and they slip out.
They walk quickly; when they get to the fork in the hallway, Erik tugs on him again, directing him towards Erik's room, which is so much closer, though it still seems very far away. Finally, the door shuts behind them. "How did you know?" Armando asks. He pauses. "I mean, I don't know what you know," he says carefully. "There might not be anything to know."
"Charles," Erik says apologetically. "I knew there was something going on-"
"Yeah, yeah, and Charles caught me thinking and put it together," Armando says, rolling his eyes and nodding. "That's the risk you run living with a telepath."
"Anyway," Erik says, pulling Armando closer to him, and now the metal is spreading all over, right up his spine; it's so easy to catch hold of him like this, pull him in tight. It's ridiculous, fabulous, thrilling, the idea that Armando's been adapting to him, to his power; his body is reacting to his need to have Erik close, make it so that nothing has to stand between them, not even their clumsy, clutching hands. "We've got better things to do than talk about Charles."
Armando leans in then, kissing him nice and hard. "I'm thinking about the shower," he says, and Erik is torn; he smells really good like this, like fresh sweat, but he has a feeling that's going to get old quickly.
Erik reaches out, twisting the knobs on the shower, pulling back the curtain rings. "After you," he says, pushing Armando away, urging him on. They're throwing off clothes as they go, and it's probably going to be hard to sort them later, but Erik couldn't possibly care about that, not when it's so much more important and productive to stare at Armando's ass.
The water in the shower is too warm, because Erik's not that good, but that's really secondary; Erik barely even remembers to pull the curtain shut. How could he, how could he ever be expected to worry about things like that when Armando is there, naked and wet and ready for him?
He lets himself fall back against the back wall and uses the metal to drag Armando in, spreading his legs so he can pull him in between them. It's so good that Armando doesn't have to worry about bracing himself, because it means he has both hands to take hold of Erik's head, tilting it just the right way so that he can kiss him deeply, so deep, like he wants to crawl right into Erik and not come out.
Erik pulls a little harder and there it is, their cocks rubbing together; he pushes up against him, grinding hard. He reaches down and grabs Armando's ass; he doesn't need the support, just wants to feel it under his hands, the muscles there working as Armando presses against him, rubbing hard.
It's good, it's amazing, but it's almost too much; Erik reaches down blindly for something to make it better, slick them up, pouring- whatever this is, creme rinse, does he own creme rinse?- over both their cocks, and that's it right there, nice and slippery, the two of them sliding against each other. He's moving Armando now, using the metal so his whole body rocks against Erik's; it feels so much like Erik's fucking him, the way they're pressed together, and he's going to do that, he's going to do that just as soon as Armando lets him.
Armando is groaning, leaning down to bite at Erik's neck, pinching at his nipples; he reaches down and wraps his hand around Erik's, pressing them tighter together. "Yeah," he says, moving them faster. "That's right, give it up, wanna see it, Erik," and Erik does exactly what he says, pulling him in so hard, his dick shooting all over both of them. Armando is with him, right there behind him, moaning loudly as he comes.
It occurs to Erik that he's wet, and it takes him a minute for him to even remember that they're in the shower. "Jesus Christ," Armando says, resting his head on the wall beside Erik's. "Hold on, man, I don't think- are my feet on the floor?"
Erik looks down; apparently not. "Here, watch out," he says, lowering him; Armando is still shaky when he straightens up, and Erik can't help but notice the way his fingers grow suckers when he braces himself on the slick wall of the shower.
And then they're standing there, looking at each other.
"So," Armando says. "I'm not sure what you want to do about this." His tone of voice suggests that he's already decided what he wants to do.
Erik just looks at him for a moment. "I want to wash my hair," he says, honestly, because that is the foremost thought in his mind right at the moment, seeing how the rest of it's just leaked out his ears. Armando's expression falls, until Erik adds, "and then I want to take you to bed and do all that again."
Armando grins widely, leaning forward to kiss him.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/365015.html.
