Summary: Erik wants Charles to shoot him. In the face.
Note: Originally written here on the kink meme. Fic accompanied by two a softer world remixes.
The presidential address should’ve been more sobering than it was, but the prospect of finding Shaw, the danger that the following day would bring, the tight set of Charles’ jaw, it all had Erik even more aroused than he had been out on the drive. Everyone was filing out of the library, pale-faced and frightened, and Erik had to turn to the side, pretend to examine the books beside him, while he waited for Charles—sweatpants could only hide so much.
Erik tapped the gun he still held loosely in one hand against his leg, trying not to remember how Charles’ fingers felt around it, warm and steady and deadly, the barrel pressed firmly against his forehead. He licked his lips.
“You are incredibly distracting,” Charles said from the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking quite put-out.
With a long, deep breath, Erik managed to control his fidgeting. “Sorry,” he said, not entirely able to keep the rough edge of arousal from his voice.
Charles let the apology stand, keeping his eyes closed and remaining perfectly still on the couch. There was something off about the tension in his shoulders; he was worried and uncertain and Erik had to change that. They couldn’t go into tomorrow burdened by anything unnecessary. Caution? Yes; fear? Most definitely. But concern and uncertainty? Those would get them all killed.
“We might die tomorrow,” Erik said, unable to keep the excitement he felt from his voice.
Glancing up at him with a wary look, Charles said, “Somehow that doesn’t give me as much pleasure as it does you.”
Erik rolled his eyes and resumed fidgeting with the gun, but he didn’t have a response. He almost wished that Charles wouldn’t be so cautious about reading his more private thoughts just so that he could understand what Erik was feeling, but that was a dangerous line of reasoning.
Instead of explaining, Erik let Charles’ statement hang between them for a moment before saying, face set, “I still want you to shoot me.”
The non-sequitur startled Charles, whose head snapped up as he gave Erik an incredulous look. “Erik, you can’t be serious. I’m not—” Charles started, but he broke off as Erik crossed the room to stand before him
Erik held Charles’ gaze as he sank to the floor, his hands coming to rest on Charles’ knees, the gun sliding against smooth fabric. Charles’ breathing was changing, speeding up, and there was color rising on his cheeks. Erik tried not to smirk.
“What are you doing?” Charles asked, but Erik could tell that Charles was beginning to understand by the way he sank just slightly lower on the couch, the way his knees parted further, with no pressure from Erik at all.
“I want you to shoot me,” Erik said, sliding his hands up the insides Charles’ thighs, pushing slightly as he went, leaning forward but never breaking eye contact, “in the face.”
Charles groaned softly and sank further into the couch. “Right now?” he asked, lifting a hand to card gently through Erik’s hair.
“I want you to shoot me in the face,” Erik repeated, leaning in close enough that his lips ghosted against the bulge of Charles’ growing erection, “with this.”
And then Charles gave a bark of laughter that sounded almost as surprised as it was amused and aroused. Erik glared up at him, but Charles kept smiling. A silent brush against Erik’s mind whispered apology and affection and he found he couldn’t really be embarrassed or upset at all by Charles’ outburst. Charles’ erection was still warm and evident against Erik’s lips, but the tension had left his muscles and he looked just as interested as he had before and much more confident.
“Now that, I can do,” Charles said warmly, reaching down to pull the gun from Erik’s hand, “especially to a friend.”
For a moment, all that registered in Erik’s mind was the feel of Charles’ fingers on the gun, the much more physical power that Charles suddenly possessed on top of his unknowable mental abilities. Erik could do nothing but stare, his fingers tightening sharply on Charles’ legs and his breath coming in quick and shallow pants.
Charles chuckled, the sound deep in his chest. “You really like this, don’t you?” he asked, shifting the gun so he held it properly, but deliberately pointing it away from Erik.
“Yes,” Erik said in a near growl, and took comfort in the way that it made Charles shiver.
Shifting forward slightly, just enough that Erik’s face was pressed more firmly against his erection, Charles gingerly dropped the gun to the floor. They both groaned at the sensation and Erik couldn’t stop himself from mouthing wetly at the fabric before him.
“I think that I have something better, here,” Charles said, leaning back and placing his hand—the hand that had just held the gun, that was still thrumming with residual metallic energy—back into Erik’s hair.
Erik smirked up at him, eyes hooded, and pulled at the buckle of Charles’ belt. “Yes, you do.”
I actually made these accompanying remixes first. They are mostly just really goofy.