sabinelagrande | Fic: Blot

Title: Blot
Summary: Erik is going to do it.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 2129
Rating/Contents: NC-17, face slapping, humiliation, bondage, biting, dubcon
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: I say this is dubcon, but truly there is a fine line between dubcon and noncon, and this story is kind of about that line, so consequently it tapdances all over it. Be warned in time.

Erik doesn't even know how long he's been thinking about this; maybe he always has been, ever since he met Charles. He's come so close so many times, wrestled with himself over and over. He's told himself so many lies that he doesn't remember what the truth is, what he really should and shouldn't do.

But he was always going to do it.

He's standing outside the door to Charles's bedroom, trying to get up the strength to knock. Last night Erik drank himself stupid and talked himself out of it; tonight he had one glass of whiskey and now he's here.

He knocks, and Charles answers. "Erik," he says, smiling. "Please come in."

Erik nods, stepping inside, and when Charles shuts the door behind them, he uses his power to jam the lock. Before he can lose his nerve, Erik grabs Charles by his shirt and throws him up against the wall, kissing him, his hands clenched so tightly that the fabric twists in them. Charles is frozen for a moment, slow to react; he puts his hands on Erik's chest, but he's not pushing him away, not yet.

Erik finally tears himself away, and then they're just staring at each other for a moment; Erik doesn't think either of them expected him to actually do it.

Charles swallows hard. "I didn't know you felt like-" He stands there open-mouthed, running it through, but then he shakes his head. "It's very tempting, but I think we should talk about this-"

"I don't care what you think," Erik snaps, and Charles's expression turns worried. "Go on and look, Charles. Go ahead and take a look at what I'm going to do." Not taking his eyes off Erik's, Charles raises his fingers to his temple; Erik can see when he gets it, the way he sucks in a breath. "If you don't give it to me, I'm going to take it," Erik tells him, as if it weren't written all over his mind.

"Erik," Charles says; his eyes are so wide, so terrified, and Erik can't get enough of it, how perfect he looks. "Please don't-"

"Shut up," Erik says sharply, lowering his mouth to Charles's neck and biting, hard, hard enough that Charles shouts, trying to get away from him.

"Erik, no," he says, and before he can say anything else, Erik pulls an arm back and slaps him across the face. He does it again and again; what he'd really like to do is punch him, see some blood, but if he's going to leave marks, he needs to do it where no one else can see.

He's going to leave marks.

"You don't say no to me," Erik tells him. "You don't get to say no." There are tears in Charles's eyes now, and Erik loves it. "What, are you afraid of me?" He pushes a stray lock of hair away from Charles's face. "Are you scared of what I'm going to do to you?" he asks, in a gentle, mocking voice. "Are you worried about how I'm going to retaliate if you try and stop me?" He laughs. "You're the one with all the power, Charles. You could stop me in an instant. You could take the whole idea out of my head, make me not want to do this to you at all. The worst thing I could do to you physically doesn't even begin to compare with what you could easily do to me mentally." He leans in, speaking right into Charles's ear. "You don't get to say no, because you don't mean no. You can stop if you want, and you're not. That's yes."

Erik bites his ear, up on the shell where it hurts, where the pain sticks; he'll be feeling it for days, though Erik suspects that it won't be much compared to everything else he'll be feeling. He pulls away, looking at Charles's face again, and Charles, Charles looks so good that Erik can hardly handle it. He's blushing, and he looks so ashamed, so disappointed, so defeated; on a hunch he reaches down, and there it is- Charles is hard.

"Well," Erik says, stroking him slowly through his trousers, and Charles shuts his eyes, sucking in a breath. "I was right, wasn't I? God, Charles, you really are sick." He takes his hand away suddenly, grabbing Charles by his biceps, turning him and shoving him towards the bed; Charles loses his balance and almost lands on the floor, but he recovers.

"Erik, please," he says, holding up his hands. "Erik, we can talk about this."

Erik snorts, advancing on him. "What's there to talk about?"

"Anything you like," Charles pants. "Let's just talk, Erik."

Erik's caught up, now, and Charles tries to rabbit at the last second; Erik grabs him before he can, dragging him to the bed and pushing him onto it. Charles should have known better than to even let Erik in; the headboard is dark wood and wrought iron, and Erik didn't look at it for more than two seconds the first time he came in here before deciding what to do with it.

The iron closes around Charles's wrists, and as Erik gets into the bed, he uses it to slowly pull Charles farther up towards the headboard. Charles is kicking, fighting him for it as he unzips Charles's trousers, pulling them and his underwear roughly over his legs and throwing them off the bed. He slaps Charles hard on the thigh to make him calm down, but it doesn't get him much in terms of a reaction; he gets straight to the point and grabs him by the balls, squeezing just enough for it to hurt, and Charles stops fighting, holding carefully still, breathing hard.

"You're going to have to behave," Erik tells him, squeezing a little harder, and Charles makes a sound of pain. "Besides, you don't need to fight. You don't need to pretend, Charles. I already know you want this."

"No, Erik, I-" is as far as he gets before Erik hits him in the face again.

"What did I say?" Erik growls. He bends down, biting the flesh of Charles's inner thigh; Charles gasps, but Erik keeps right on doing it, biting and sucking, until he's sure Charles will have a mark there in the morning. Charles is going to remember this; he can go off into his own head as much as he wants, but when he looks at his body he won't be able to deny what happened.

Erik grabs the vaseline out of his pocket, wrenching the lid open and coating his fingers with it. He thought about doing it dry, just coming in and doing it, but the prep is worth it. It's worth it for the faces Charles makes, the way he's fighting to pretend it doesn't feel good when two of Erik's slippery fingers press into him. Erik moves his fingers to the right spot and Charles arches right off the bed, gasping; he bites his lip, looking so embarrassed that he's done it, that his body is admitting what he won't say.

Erik pushes in another finger, rocking them in and out slowly, watching as Charles tries so hard not to push back against them. "I could keep doing this," Erik tells him, finding that place again, and Charles moans, despite himself. "I could stay right here and torment you until you gave me what I wanted. I wouldn't stop until you begged me to do it. If I kept it up long enough, you'd do anything I wanted to get me to fuck you." He leans down, kissing him hard. "Something to look forward to for next time."

Charles looks at him in shock, and Erik just smiles. Charles couldn't possibly think that he'd give this up once he knew he could do it.

Erik pulls his fingers out, wiping them on Charles's thigh; he quickly unzips his trousers and pushes them down, and it's such a relief to finally wrap his hand around his cock. He flicks his eyes up, and Charles is looking at it, mixed hunger and fear in his eyes, and it's a wonder Erik doesn't go off right then.

He pulls Charles a little closer, getting him in just the right place so he can lean forward and push inside of him, all the way in with one thrust. He groans, shutting his eyes; Charles is tight and hot, just right around his dick, and god, Erik is going to destroy him.

He's only just done it when he hears it; Charles is crying, and when Erik looks there are big tears rolling down his face. He doesn't look like he's in pain so much as he looks like he's humiliated, so mortified by what he's doing. "You don't have to pretend like I'm the first," Erik says, thrusting into him again. "Do you even remember how many cocks you've taken?" He does it again, and again. "Do you do this every time? Because it's a very good look on you."

"Shut up," Charles says weakly, childishly, and Erik leans down to kiss him again, brushing the tears away from his face. Before Charles can think he's getting a reprieve, Erik pulls back; he pushes Charles's legs out of the way so that he can start really fucking him, driving into him over and over. Charles is crying and moaning at the same time, and Erik loves it, really loves it, couldn't possibly hear enough.

Erik really didn't think he'd last at all, but he's managing, mostly because he never wants to stop. He's going to do this to Charles as long as he can and as much as he can; Charles is too good, an untapped resource, and Erik's not going to let him go to waste.

"God, look at you like this," Erik says, leaning down over him. "Look at how you're taking it- you look like such a slut." He grins slowly. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Charles makes a noise like he's choking and comes, all over himself, without even being touched. Erik grits his teeth, trying to hold on, but he can't, he just can't, not when Charles is coming apart underneath him and- oh god- saying Erik's name.

There's nothing afterwards, nothing in the air but the sound of their breathing, nothing in his mind but overwhelming satisfaction. He leans back away from Charles, pulling his trousers up and zipping them, unwrapping the metal from around his wrists and setting the headboard right again. The door is next, and that's a little trickier; he hasn't crushed the pins in the lock, though, so everything goes back easily.

Just before he leaves, he leans down over Charles, making to kiss him; Charles turns his face away, but Erik catches his chin in his hand, holding him still and doing it anyway.

"Until next time," he says, and he walks out.

Charles lays there for a long time; he focuses on his breathing, steady and slow. When he's ready he lets his mind wander down the hallway and find Erik; Erik is still so excited, so thrilled by what he's done, that he's masturbating. Charles doesn't interrupt. Charles gets up from the bed; he goes to the bathroom, takes a shower, brushes his teeth. He gets back into bed, and when he reaches out again, Erik has fallen asleep.

Charles reaches in and lifts it out, the entire evening. He strips things out, rearranges, puts it back together differently: Erik didn't have any bad intentions, didn't want to do anything to him, didn't spend hours thinking about it; he came to Charles's room and they talked about- Charles looks around for something- the book Erik is reading, the weekend ahead; he went back to his room, jerked off to a standard fantasy, and went to sleep.

He sets the whole thing down in Erik's mind, fitting it in carefully where the old memories were. Erik shifts in his sleep; Erik does that sometimes, seems to have a better than average sense of when his mind is being changed for him, but Charles has to do it. Charles can deal with his own shame, pain, regret, guilty trembling satisfaction; he can't deal with Erik's sense of accomplishment.

Charles turns off the light, rolling away from the nightstand, towards the window. The sheets are soft, comfortable, but they smell like Erik, like sex, like sweat. Charles puts his face into them and breathes in, shutting his eyes.

And he lays there wondering how soon Erik will do it again.

He always does.

This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/385201.html.

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