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Erik winces when he sees X. His hair is disheveled, as if he had been running his fingers through it viciously, there are dark circles under the prominently caved in eyes. He looks so much older now, not like the charming and boyish façade he'd first met.
Erik looks into X's eyes - because it's always the eyes that give him away - and there is a disturbing ice creeping behind them. The baby blue appearing more arctic than innocent. Something's wrong. Erik darts his eyes away from X and fixes his gaze on the carpeted floor.
The uncomfortable, intense silence is broken when X finally speaks.
"Agent Frost," Erik instantly looks up, "Told me the FBI started your search," X says casually. "Do you know what that means, Erik?"
"No," Erik answers sincerely. He's honestly surprised they took so long. After all he's been missing for a few months now.
"It means they're trying to take you away from me," The man says, his voice is now hard as steel. He takes a few steps towards Erik, only stopping when he's merely centimeters away from his captive. "I can't let that happen." X's voice is still harsh, determined, but the caress he gives to Erik's cheek is gentle. He would even dare to say it was a lover's touch.
"X-" Erik remembers he doesn't like being called that, not by Erik, "Charles, you know you've got to let me go." Erik naively hopes Charles will listen this time.
Silence fills the room once again and Erik thinks Charles is actually considering his wish.
He doesn't realize he's on the ground until he feels his cheek pressed on the soft tapestry.
Even though Charles isn't as built or strong as Erik, he's strong enough to pin the FBI agent to the ground. The younger man's straddling Erik's long legs, his crotch right against the elder's ass. Charles's arms are bracketing Erik's head, while his chest is a solid weight on Erik's muscular back. "I don't think you understood what I said. You can't leave me," Charles growls. The statement would be threatening if only Erik didn't hear the poorly concealed vulnerability bleeding through. "Have you forgotten you belong with me? To me?" Charles whispers lowly against Erik's ear, voice now tight with barely contained anger. "Answer me, Erik!" Charles snaps.
A lifetime ago Erik would've responded with a snarl or with a threatening glare. Now, he simply says, "No, I haven't. I'm sorry." More scared of what Charles will do then apologetic.
"That's not good enough," Erik's heart starts hammering on his chest, "I think I need to teach you a lesson." He closes his eyes and mentally braces himself, hoping for the worst Charles has got prepared for him.
Erik stiffens when he feels his pants and underwear being dragged down his thighs. He hears the garments being thrown away in a corner of the room and then feels Charles' warm hands on his ass, kneading it. Erik gives a little startled yelp when Charles gives him a punishing slap on his left butt cheek.
There's the familiar pop of a cap before two cool slicked two fingers enter him. He tenses around them, the digits move relentlessly, impatiently preparing him. Erik lets out a little grunt when the other man grazes the bundle of nerves inside him. Charles briefly scissors him before retracting his fingers.
Charles slides his zipper down and undoes the fly, freeing his erection. Erik's breath hitches as he clenches around the engorged head breaching his pucker. The quick prep obviously wasn't enough to loosen him up, Erik's not ready. The older man manages to calm his body down with steady intakes of breaths, and apparently Charles takes this as a cue to slam his entire length inside him.
Erik lets out a muffled scream; the metal taste of blood oozing from his bitten lip and stagnating his mouth.
It hurts. It's so different from every other time they've done it. Charles had always made sure to make Erik feel good during these times; he always treated him like a rare china doll. He'd always set a thorough but gentle pace with his fingers and hips, peppered kisses and told him sweet things while fucking - or making love, was what he called it. But now, Charles is fucking him in earnest, thrusting fiercely into Erik's tight walls, like he's some worthless whore.
The stretch and burn is an insufferable pain but he can't help but moan when Charles hits his prostate. Charles chuckles darkly above him. "Are you enjoying yourself, Erik?" And Erik wants to deny, his cheeks burn because this is all wrong - Charles, a man he'd been hunting for seven months endlessly, fucking him senseless and Erik enjoying it - but all those guilty thoughts are cast far away when Charles jabs the pleasurable spot inside him again. Once he's found Erik's prostate, he grinds himself down, rubbing the tip of his cock on the glands.
His whole body feels like it's aflame, pure fire pooling in his guts, licking his spine and melting his nerves. Erik hears a pathetic sob and realizes the sound's his. The palms on his ass have now moved to the narrow waist, gripping bruises on the protuberant hips. Charles maintains a ruthless rhythm that makes Erik's eyes roll to the back of his skull, impaling his cock on Erik's prostate in every powerful thrust. And all Erik does is moan and writhe on the floor - let Charles use him.
Charles's mouth lands on the glistening skin of Erik's neck, sucking a fierce hickey there. Something primal and raw finds its way around Charles's heart when he looks at the man beneath him: Erik's gorgeous grey eyes are glassy, his long lashes are spiky from held back tears. His lower lip is swollen and ruby from biting in the sounds he's so ashamed of. "Look at you, panting like a slut. My slut." The best part of it all is that Charles is only one who can see Erik like this, being undone by his cock. He's the only one who can strip Erik bare, body and soul. The only one who can touch Erik. Every moan, gasp, whine and breath is his. Every cry, tear and emotion belongs to him. He's the only one that can make Erik feel - from pain to pleasure, from melancholy to ecstasy, from odium to love.
"Mine," Charles bites down hard on the mark he was lightly nipping moments ago and the man beneath him cries out. "Say you're mine, Erik." Charles growls and thrusts impossibly harder, moving Erik roughly up on the carpet.
"Hngh-" The first they'd done it--Erik's first time at all with a man--Charles demanded him the same statement. Of course, back then Erik--with his bold attitude--told him to fuck off. "N-no." Erik stutters as his impending orgasm approaches. He hasn't acknowledged his weeping erection trapped underneath until this moment.
Charles stops the vicious pounding almost immediately, causing Erik to snap from his lust induced haze. "No?" The ice in the voice drags a chill across Erik's spine. Charles pulls himself out of Erik, flipping the man so he's on his back. The agent's startled by the sudden display of strength; his eyes, a thin ring of viridescent silver. "You're mine and you know it. I'm going to make you scream my name."
He barely has a moment to process those words before Charles's length is piercing him in one swift thrust. Erik's wail echoes on the expansive room, bouncing off the walls. He's blushing because honestly, the sound was more of pleasure than anything else.
Charles seems to have memorized where Erik's prostate is from the way he's currently ramming the special spot. And although the pain's still there it's being obscured by the overwhelming flood of toe curling sensations.
"Say. My. Name." Every word is punctuated by brutal thrusts that make Erik's back arch, his mouth open in a silent cry. He's so damn close, but he can't come yet. Not without giving Charles what he wishes first, because what Charles wants, he gets. One way or another, it's better to surrender while things still have a pleasing touch them. He's seen what this man is capable of.
With a broken sob, Erik comes.
"Charles-" His captor's name bouncing off the soundproof walls. Erik's body sore, he's covered with sweat and his own release and Charles is still moving inside him, fucking him through his orgasm. Erik thinks he might cry from the overstimulation. After a few thrust Charles spends himself inside Erik, once again marking him.
The room is filled with Erik's ragged pants and Charles's shaky breaths. "Look at me, Erik," The eyes staring him are soft and warm, just like the hand cupping his cheek. They're only inches away, sharing breath. "You're mine, do you understand?"
Erik's spent so much time trying to figure out X, his reasons, his psyche. Never knowing that the man behind the mask was just as obsessed with him as he was with Charles.
"Yes," Erik can hear the defeat in his voice. He sees the hurricane of emotion running through Charles's eyes, the only remnant of the wreckage is something Erik doesn't dare name.
Erik can't lie about not being fascinated by Charles Xavier. From the first time both men set eyes on each other, they knew a bond had been made. Professor Xavier, with his easy smile and sharp wit who tricked everyone - including Erik - into thinking he was a commoner. It was few times Erik truly saw the man lurking behind the illusion. Whenever Erik talked about X, how much of sick and twisted he was, Charles's eye would go dark. A menacing curl of mouth on his lips. And Erik's dealt with his amount of fucked up people, but Charles somehow manages to surpass them all. Maybe it's the fact that he can sympathize with the killer, or maybe because Charles can manipulate him without actually trying. But what drives Erik off the edge is that he can control Charles just as much. In the end of the day, Charles needs him.
And Erik, tainted with Charles's marks, recognizes he needs him just as much.