sabinelagrande | Fic: drop the top and let the sunshine in

Title: drop the top and let the sunshine in
Summary: Going on a recruitment road trip in a convertible sounded like so much fun at the time.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 2097
Rating/Contents: NC-17, frustrated sex (in the shower, no less), rather a lot of biting
Pairing: Erik/Raven
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: This time it's

dizmo's fault, as I asked the tumblr for prompts (so, sort of both of our faults). And, honestly, Erik and Charles get to take all the road trips. Someone else should get some too.

Renting a drop top with the government's money sounded like an amazing idea at the time; it's just that, around Roanoke, they realized neither of them actually knew how to put the top up. Erik was almost certain he knew how to do it- the mechanism is all metal, for the love of god- but Raven was convinced he'd break it and wouldn't let him.

And then around Kingsport, Raven's scarf blew off, and she demanded Erik pull over and put it up; that was when Erik realized that he really didn't know how to do it, not without breaking it. Raven gave him plenty of hell about that, but within twenty minutes she'd switched over to moaning about the rat's nest her hair was turning into. Erik turned up the radio and drove faster; at least it was distracting him from the sunburn he was probably developing.

But now they're finally here, pulling up in the parking lot of the hotel; thank god the parking space is covered, because the absolute last thing they need is the car getting soaked if it rains. Raven doesn't even pretend like she's going to get her own suitcase- Erik wouldn't let her carry it, but she could make an effort. And of course it's heavy, despite the fact they're only going to be gone for a few nights. Even that wouldn't matter if she would just listen to him and not Charles and stop wearing clothes. Even if she's going to insist on pretending to be human, she could stick to generating her own clothing and stop making Erik tote a heavy suitcase around.

Erik lugs said suitcase into the lobby and sets it down in front of the desk. "We have a reservation for two."

"Of course," the clerk says, looking down at the register. "Mister and Miss Xavier?"

Erik gives Raven a look. "That's us," she says.

The clerk smiles brightly. "We've been expecting you. If you'll follow me?"

"Don't look at me," Raven tells him, sotto voce, as the clerk leads them down the hallway. "Charles made the reservation."

"I know," Erik says. Charles's intermittent "Don't fuck my sister" messages are never particularly subtle. "At least he always picks nice places."

Almost as soon as the door to their room shuts and locks behind them, Raven is headed for the shower. "Two hours," Erik warns her; he's not going to be a minute late to meet the new potential recruit, not after going through this kind of a day to get here. She just waves at him, shutting the door more or less in his face.

Erik rolls his eyes, bending down to wash his face in the sink; the cold water feels amazing, making him shiver a little when it hits the overheated skin of his face, which is, yes, definitely sunburned. He stretches this way and that, popping his back in several places; he takes a look at himself in the mirror, wondering if he needs to change shirts before they go out.

And then Raven starts moaning.

Erik frowns, wondering what in the world is going on. First he thinks he's misheard, then he decides it must be coming from next door, but then Raven lets out a throaty "Oh, god", and Erik is officially sure.

Erik doesn't know what's going on, but it takes him about ten seconds to get pissed about it. She had better not be in there getting off. For one thing, they have plans, and then there's everything else that's wrong about this. If she's going to- and then expect him to- and act like- and if she- and not to mention that-

Maybe it's got something to do with the fact that Erik's brain is a little addled and sun-fried, but for some reason it suddenly seems like a really good idea to go in there and call her on it.

The door's not locked, so Erik just walks in. "Raven," he says, in a warning tone.

Raven pulls the curtain open enough to poke her head out; her hair is covered in suds, and she looks absolutely irate. "What the hell do you want, Erik?" she snaps.

He's a little taken aback, because he can count on one hand the number of times he's actually seen her in her natural form, but that's no excuse to get sidetracked. "What the hell are you doing in here?" he demands.

"I'm washing my hair, what the hell does it look like I'm doing?"

"Then why the hell are you moaning?"

"Because we've been driving all day and it feels good, why the hell do you think?" She snorts in frustration. "Look, you can get in here or you can get the hell out, but make up your mind. It's getting chilly."

She yanks the curtain closed, and Erik freezes. There's always been tension between the two of them, but it's never actually come to this point. He honestly didn't think it would; he's still planning on leaving, they didn't exactly meet under the right circumstances, and Charles is politely but insistently reminding him to stay the fuck away, a message Erik assumed Raven was also getting and paying attention to.

And yet, here they are.

"The hell with it," Erik mutters, shutting the door behind him. He strips out of his clothing and pulls the curtain open, stepping in behind her. She turns, shrieking and trying badly to cover herself.

"I didn't think you'd actually take me up on it," she says, gaping at him.

"Too late now," he tells her, backing her up against the wall. He pulls her arms away from her body- they're past that- and pins her wrists on either side of her face. Erik leans down, kissing her fiercely, and she gives it right back to him, intense amounts of frustration and longing encapsulated in one hard, biting kiss.

He pulls away to catch his breath, just looking at her for a moment, and It hits him, what he's just done, what they're doing. It was very abstract for a very long time, a somewhat remote possibility; but here it is, actually happening, and he's not even sure he knows what to think.

"Are we doing this or not?" Raven says, like she can read him as easily as Charles, and he can hear the uncertainty that's hiding underneath the defiance in her voice. Erik doesn't answer, just takes her mouth again, his grip tightening on her wrists. Her body feels so different pressed up against his own, strange and inviting, and next time- that's a foreign, almost giddy thought, "next time"- he's absolutely going to spend his time on it, map it out little by little, discover every inch of her.

Right now? Frustration. Shower. Places to be. No time.

The important thing right now is that she's writhing underneath him; she can't move her arms, so she's moving everything else instead. She's pressing back against him, keeping them as close as she can. He breaks the kiss for a moment, and she leans in and just bites him on the neck, sucking on his skin like she's got some kind of vampiric mutation. She's going to leave a mark, but it feels a little too good to stop her; thank god he's so fond of turtlenecks. Then she's working her hips, and his sartorial choices are far, far from his mind; if this is going to go anywhere, it needs to go there now, or Erik is going to go off.

He lets her go, turning her around, and she braces herself against the wall and spreads her legs, clearly as eager as he is. He slides his fingers inside of her, and she groans; she's slick and hot and he needs to be inside her right this instant or he's going to go completely insane. He guides himself into her, slow and deep, and he rests his forehead in between her shoulder blades, trying to get his bearings, trying to even start to deal with how impossibly good it feels to finally be inside of her.

"Erik," she pleads, pushing her hips back against him, and he doesn't need to be told twice. She's a perfect hourglass, hips just made to curl his hands around while he fucks her. It's so good, but the problem is that she's not loud enough; it's totally strange that he's trying to beat the standards set by hair-washing, but nobody ever said he wasn't competitive. He works his hips harder, reaching around to press his fingers to her clit; now it's a little louder, a little better, but he really doesn't tolerate anything other than best.

He pulls her back hard against him, so they're tight and close, so he can push into her deep. Erik bends down, biting at the back of her neck, and she gasps; he's onto something there, so he does it again, sucking hard, and she groans his name, nice and clear and loud. "Do that again," he says into her ear.

She laughs, low and thick. "You first." Erik doesn't hesitate, sinking his teeth in at the join of her neck and shoulder; her skin is wet and warm, slightly ridged under his tongue, and he can't get enough of it, the taste and the feel of her. She's moaning unreservedly now, satisfyingly loud, her face pressed against the wall, whole body moving with Erik's. He thrusts into her faster, harder, not sure how much longer he can keep this up, when it's this good.

"Come on, do it for me," he growls, and she nods, pressing back against him harder. Her voice is rising, echoing on the tile; she lets out an "Erik!" that sounds almost panicked and then she's coming, pulling Erik right along with her, making him groan, clutching at her.

Erik can't do much for a while, just stand there and let her hold him up, the water beating down on them. Finally he pulls away, but only so he can turn her around and hold her that way instead, kissing her slowly, over and over. "Before something stupid happens and everything gets screwed up," she says, when they part, laying a hand on his chest, "I want us to agree that that was a good idea and we don't feel bad about doing it."

"Great idea," Erik agrees. "No regrets."

"Good," she says, looking relieved. "Now pass me the creme rinse."

By the time they leave the shower, they're actually not running all that far behind. Erik's clothes are a total loss, crumpled and wet from where he thoughtlessly tossed them onto the bathroom floor, and he changes while Raven does her- completely unnecessary, from both a "wasting of powers" and "gilding the lily" standpoint- makeup.

"I know what you're going to say," she says, looking at him in the mirror as he walks up behind her, "but you have no idea how hard it is to concentrate enough to keep making it look like you have eyeliner on all night. I've tried."

He brushes her blond hair away from her neck. "I was just going to say that you have bruises here," he says, tracing his finger along one of them.

"Dammit," she says, turning to look, and they melt away. "Is that better? Sometimes I forget what happened where when I change."

He smirks. "They're gone, if that's what you mean by 'better.'"

She rolls her eyes at him. "I don't think going off to recruit people with hickeys all over my neck is a very good strategy, unless we're offering to let them make out with you for signing up. She gives him a look, jabbing her eyeliner pencil at him. "Which we're not, by the way."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Erik says, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"If you're going to do that, then hold still," Raven tells him. "It's nice, but I'm not going to put my eye out for you."

He snorts, but he doesn't pull away, watching her delicately apply the liner. With any luck, tonight will go smoothly; in the morning, he'll find someone who knows how to work the damn car, and they'll make a better start. By the end of the day tomorrow, hopefully they won't be ready to absolutely kill each other.

But if they are, Erik's pretty sure they've got a handle on how to fix it.

--

It turns out the top is automatic.

Erik quietly puts it up and tells Raven he fixed it. She doesn't need to know how.

This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/393430.html.

comments over there.