[personal profile] aeshna_uk
Title: Potentials
Author: Aeshna
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Rating: NC-17, slash
Word count: 2,266
Characters: Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr
Summary: Lightning flashes, carving the sky apart with jagged brilliance, and Erik gasps, his head falling back with a soft laugh as the answering thunder roars.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no matter how many comics and toys I buy! Everything here belongs to Marvel and Fox.
Notes: I think I got this prompt from a Porn Battle that I just caught the end of. It seems to have taken me up to the start of the next PB to finish the thing.

Many thanks to [livejournal.com profile] ximeria for the beta – any remaining weirdnesses are mine. Feedback of any variety is very much appreciated but not compulsory – I'll post anyway! I've suffered for my art, now it's your turn....

Mouse-over any non-English dialogue for translations. :)

Charles wakes to thunder, to the dying echo of sound and dream. Frowning, he rolls over and reaches for Erik... but the bed is empty, the sheets cool beneath his questing hand, and so he reaches

To find Erik standing naked at the window, curtains thrown wide as he watches the rain rattling against the panes and drowning the night-dark world without.

Blinking sleep from his eyes, Charles takes a moment to admire his lover – the lean lines of him, the broad shoulders and narrow hips, the focused, razor-edged elegance of his mind – silhouetted against the storm and allows himself a satisfied smile. It wasn't so very long ago that Erik might have been outside and alone amidst all that elemental fury, and there's something that stirs low in Charles's belly at the knowledge that he had taken him from that fate, had taken him out of the wilds and into his home and his heart and his bed. It's not something that Erik would ever care to hear, he knows, and there have been moments – Cuba, Paris, Seattle – when their accord has come perilously close to fracture, the pieces threatening to fly apart like so much human shrapnel, but for now Erik is here and Erik is his and that is all that matters.

Right now, though, Erik's thoughts are fully focused on the storm, on the howl of wind through the mansion's masonry and the lash of the rain; he doesn't turn as Charles slips out from beneath the covers, padding quietly across to where he stands. The faint light coming in through the window is alive with liquid motion, the splash of water on glass painting the planes of Erik's skin with subtle brushstrokes of shadow and shine.

Charles thinks him utterly magnificent.

"I can feel it," Erik says quietly, his grey eyes silvered as he gazes out at the rain-soaked grounds, and there's something like wonder in his voice. "Feel it growing. Swelling."

Watching the faint shimmer of reflected rain on Erik's chest is giving Charles something of a growing swelling of his own, but he ignores it and takes a step closer. "Feel what?"

"This." Charles jumps as the room is abruptly illuminated by an explosive flash of light, followed an instant later by a booming crack of sound that he feels down to his bones. He can sense other minds stirring from sleep around the mansion – concern, annoyance, fear, fascination, delight (ah, that would be young Ororo) – but their emotions are faint, distant things compared to the nova-bright glory that is Erik. Erik, who is standing at the window, naked as a newborn, with an expression of utter exultation on his face. "Błyskawica. It's... faint at first, barely there, but if I concentrate...."

"Oh, of course!" It was hard for Charles not to catch the echo of Erik's mood, harder still not to drop into research mode. "Lightning is essentially a discharge of static electricity – you must be detecting the electricity in the air, the building electromagnetic charge. Hank has been hypothesising that your abilities extend into the electromagnetic spectrum and now that you're getting more fine-control over your powers –"

"Yes. Yes, I am, aren't I?" Erik casts a brief, sidelong glance at Charles before closing his eyes and pressing the tips of his long fingers against the glass, his thoughts shaded with something like amusement and affection and smug satisfaction. Charles scowls at him – for all his loud conviction that killing Shaw would not bring Erik peace, the irritating fact is that both Erik's mood and his control over his abilities have improved dramatically since the man's death, as if Shaw's mere existence had been a block on Erik's potential. And Charles hates being wrong.

And yet... he loves the small triumphs that come with each incremental step towards control and understanding, Erik's joy in discovery just as great as it is for any of the students – greater, perhaps, given that he has lived with his abilities for so long without ever truly knowing his limits. Shaw had tried to fashion Erik's powers into a crude weapon, but Charles sees them more as an instrument in need of tuning. Learning to play might not be easy, but the results should be so much more rewarding that merely using it to club someone over the head.

Although sometimes, in Erik's case, he does wonder....

Lightning flashes, carving the sky apart with jagged brilliance, and Erik gasps, his head falling back with a soft laugh as the answering thunder roars. Charles catches the wave of his emotions and coasts on the rush of delight-need-curiosity-joy-hunger, feeling an echo of alien sensation over his skin as electrical potentials shift in the air, a heavy pulse between his thighs as –

Oh. Oh.

Charles steps closer, closing his eyes as he leans in to rest his hands on Erik's lean hips and to bite gently at the sharp line of a shoulder blade, the taste of salt and ozone on his tongue. Erik shivers against his touch, his back arching as Charles licks a slow path up his spine, and the air in the room crackles with possibility even as the rain pounds down outside, the chill deluge bare inches away. He smiles against skin, resting his lips on the raised edge of a scar as he murmurs, "Beautiful. You're beautiful like this."

A soft growl is the only response to that, and Charles laughs breathily as he shimmies out of his pyjama bottoms and rubs himself against Erik's backside. He wants to fuck him like this, up against the rain-streaked window, wants to slip into that tight, heated hole and claim Erik in the most primal way possible, wants to make him beg and howl and then suck his own seed from Charles's fingers....

Most of all, though, he wants the blasted lubricant to be here and not on the thrice-damned bedside table across the room.

Erik makes a wordless sound deep in his throat as Charles nudges higher, the moan needy and raw... and then the sky is split asunder by light and sound and Charles finds himself bowled over and all but thrown onto the bed, gasping as he finds Erik over him, pinning him to the covers from behind. He can feel the other man's cock pressed hot and heavy against his arse, but what he's most conscious of is the prickle of static over his skin, the sense of the storm growing above him, gathering in strength and power and....

Charles cries out as teeth graze across the back of his neck, feeling the pulse of arousal-need-hunger-affection-want that colours Erik's thoughts, and knows that he won't be the one doing the fucking this time around. The sheets are creased beneath his belly and he's almost painfully aware that he's still slick and loose from their earlier encounter. "E-Erik...."

"And you are beautiful like this, mój drogi," Erik murmurs roughly in his ear. Charles shivers, feeling a thrill of sensation along his spine as Erik bends to mouth at his throat, one large hand pinning his wrists above his head while the other strays across his ribcage, his hip, down to his thigh. "Jesteś piękny."

A soft moan escapes Charles and he writhes helplessly beneath Erik's touch, revelling in the sense of being caught and covered, utterly at the other man's mercy. The power here is all his, of course, as it always is – Erik might have the physical advantage but his mind is open, vulnerable, every thought and emotion on display, and it would be the work of a moment to slip in behind his eyes and reduce him to drooling compliance....

The work of a moment to destroy whatever trust – and more – has grown between them.

No. Charles may be many things – sometimes arrogant, frequently condescending, occasionally suicidally tactless – but he likes to think that he isn't quite that monumentally stupid.

A low roll of distant thunder, then another sharp, magnesium-bright flash and its answering hammer blow of noise. Charles feels Erik's gasp as much as he hears it, feels the pulse of power deep within him as like calls to like, feels the wash of pleasure and desire and primal need. There's a skittering crackle of static in the air and he feels it all in the electric brush of skin on skin, in the way all the fine hairs on his body stand suddenly erect. He can feel the pieces sliding into place in Erik's mind as understanding suddenly dawns and –

Erik laughs in delight, the sound lost amidst the thunder, and then the hunger is back, the lust, and Charles yelps and jerks helplessly as broad hands shift to his hips, grasping tightly and sending sharp splinters of electricity into his flesh. "God, Erik – what are you... fuck!"

Another laugh. "Nie bądź na mnie zły. Mam cos dla ciebie...."

"Erik! English, please!"

"I thought that you wanted us to perfect our gifts – I'm sure that translation is within yours," Erik murmurs playfully, the heated curve of his cock nudging up against Charles's balls. "Why should you rest on your laurels while the rest of us work, hmm?"

"Cheeky bastaaa-ah, ah, ah!" Charles yelps and jerks as Erik strokes a palm across a buttock and then probes deeper, long fingers brushing sparks of sensation against slickened muscle. "Erik, what the –"

"What do you think I'm doing, my friend?" Erik's chuckle is low, hungry, the sound merging into the soft rumble from outside, and then Charles is being parted, blunt heat pressing against him with implacable pressure. "I'm going to fuck you so hard and so deep...."

"Promises – uhn – promises...." A hand on his shoulder, pushing him into the covers as Erik's cock pushes into him, stretching him wide and making him cry out at the burn – loose he might be, but he's not as open as he was. Rain hammers against the window, the sharp, drifting staccato filling the world as Erik buries himself to the hilt. So full, so fucking full, and Erik is on him, in him, breath coming in hot, wet pants against Charles's ear as he covers him, pinning him down like captured prey. "Oh, god."

"Cicho!" The word is a growl, accompanied by a shifting of hips, a spreading wave of lust and need, an awareness of something gathering, building –

The room is suddenly awash with light and sound and Charles curses and sobs and clings to the covers as Erik grunts, draws back and slams into him, riding out the thunder with short, savage thrusts, his emotions shifting with the currents of the storm even as his body sets a punishing pace. It's primal, elemental, and Charles is open, aware of each instant, each instance as Erik loses himself in it, in the blossoming wonder of his own powers. Static creeps and crackles between them, a whispered counterpoint to the drum of rain on glass and the slap of skin on skin. He's trapped and filled and surrounded, every sense alive and overloaded, desperately aware of every inch of Erik's body as it presses into and against his own, of the quicksilver race of Erik's emotions, and it's glorious....

Even if there's a very good chance that he won't be able to sit down tomorrow.

He feels a sudden flicker of curiosity against the heated rush of Erik's lust and pleasure, a momentary twist of amusement and challenge and –

And then he's shrieking at the top of his lungs and broadcasting his climax to half of New York State as pure sensation slams up his spine from within and explodes through his every nerve, bright and hot as a bolt of lightning and every bit as uncontrollable. Erik's mind flashes delight, but all Charles can do is howl and thrash and empty his balls into the bedsheets, his body jerking in involuntary spasm as white fire pulses through him again, again....

Erik is lying across him, heavy and spent, when he finally comes back to his senses. He can still feel the tingling aftershocks thrumming through him and fuck, but they're going to have to explore this new aspect of Erik's abilities more thoroughly in the lab. And out of it. Just as soon as he's physically capable of movement again, that is.

"Erik?" Charles wriggles, awkwardly trying to work his way free from beneath his lover's solid weight. "Erik, you lazy sod – will you get off me!"

"Hmm," Erik mumbles, his thoughts slow and smugly satiated. "Jestem śpiący...."

Right.... Erik! Move!

It isn't quite a command but it has the desired effect, Erik rolling aside with a grumbled protest and a flash of annoyance that Charles thinks rather rich given the uninvited use that he's just put his powers to. Groaning, Charles heaves himself back up the bed, testing his limbs and cataloguing each well-earned ache. The thunder is still rumbling outside, a distant counterpoint to the steady drum of rain against glass, and god, but he's going to hurt in the morning. "Well," he mutters against rumpled cotton, "that was certainly... spectacular. Bastard."

Erik chuckles sleepily and crawls across to join Charles, hauling the covers up over them as an apparent afterthought. "I think the word you're looking for is 'shocking'."

Charles hits him with a pillow and the pair of them tumble laughing together amidst the ruined sheets until, all tangled up in one another, they finally succumb to exhausted sleep. The storm rattles the windows, sends rainwater sluicing from the sills, but it cannot touch them here and the morning, when it comes, is clear and bright.

~ fin ~
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