Work Text:
Erik Lehnsherr was truly lying in the lap of luxury. The lap belonging to one Charles Francis Xavier, that was.
It was one of those perfect, lazy summer days, warm but not stifling, sunny with fat white clouds drifting overhead. A gentle breeze ruffled the leaves of Charles' favorite tree, and the sunlight danced on the ripples on the pond.
Charles sat with his back pressed against the trunk of the tree his grandfather had planted, legs outstretched, one hand carding through Erik's hair, the other braced on the ground for balance. His blue, blue eyes shone with soft affection, and those cherry-red lips curved in a gentle smile. The breeze made his chestnut hair flutter and dance, and the brilliant light of his charisma drew Erik in like a moth to a flame.
A fucking happy moth. If his destiny was to be drawn in and set afire by that magnetic beauty, he'd die with delight.
Erik lay on a slight diagonal to Charles, shoulders against his thigh, head pillowed near his crotch, crown brushing up against Charles' navel. He knew the last was the only part of him that Charles could actually feel, but that was just how it was.
Charles traced his cheekbones, his jaw, his nose, his lips. “You're beautiful,” he declared quietly.
“And you're biased.”
“Utterly.”
Erik caught his hand, kissed it. “I could stay here with you forever.”
“Forever is a long time.”
“With you at my side, it would be but the blink of an eye.” He kissed Charles' hand again, nibbled lightly at the fingertips.
Charles all but purred. “Forever sounds lovely, but only if we adjourn to the bedroom at some point.”
“We will,” Erik promised, “but I'd like to stay here a bit longer. It really is a beautiful day.”
And it was -- it was a perfect day, cradled on his love's lap, watching the clouds roll by.
And then they went inside, and it was a perfect night, too.