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The dim moonlight turned each color into a different shade of gray. The fireplace was so dark that it seemed black, the white sheets had a faint shade, and then there was his naked body. He was lying on his stomach. He was almost indistinguishable from the bed, if not for the pearly reflection emitted by his very pale skin.
He was breathing slowly, almost not making any noise. The profile of his back was well outlined by soft muscles; his buttocks were graceful, perfectly round.
He tried to resist, but then he grazed them. He barely touched them, slowly.
The man did not wake up.
He slowly moved the tip of his fingertips along the cleft, lingered where it met with the back and gently laid his hand open.
It was warm and the warmth of that contact woke Charles up. Without opening his eyes, he smiled and moved slightly towards Erik. His back touching his lover's chest.
"I wonder if you ever sleep..." said Charles in a whisper.
"Not if I have a good reason to stay awake" and as a reply Erik first kissed and then bit the boy's shoulder, who whimpered with clenched teeth, then Erik moved his hand to his side and climbed up along his chest, gently stroking the young professor's smooth skin.
Charles remained with his eyes closed, cuddled by the skin contact.
He felt so safe, so protected.
Not that in his life he had ever felt the terror of being in danger. He had lived comfortably, comfortably and on the right side of the world. The war had been nothing more than an echo from overseas, he had never starved, or has been cold. He knew no discomfort or poverty. Everything about the pain of poverty he had known through the eyes and minds of those who had stolen, fought or even killed to eat.
The worst pain he had ever felt was indifference.
He had been perfectly indifferent, or rather: non-existent for his stepfather, and very little relevant for his mother. He remembered with sadness the death of his father which, although premature, was in any case the consequence of a long illness. He was young, but he had had plenty of time to process it, to deal with that loss in the most balanced way. His father had instructed and accompanied him until his last day. When he died, Charles did not feel despair, but rather loneliness. Brian Xavier had also been a good parent, but above all a very good friend. When he passed away, for a long time, Charles was left with only the company of the voices in his head. This was the only suffering he’d ever experienced. Paltry details compared to the trials to which many people are subjected. Nothing that could compare to Erik’s devastation.
Nothing could compare to the broken heart of the man next to him. His soul was so heavy and full of evil that Charles wondered how he could breathe without succumbing.
The violence he had endured, the torture, the extermination camp…
He stopped thinking about that torment and returned to the sense of protection that the man was giving him right then.
The warm hand gently stroking his chest, the warmth of the naked body pressed against his own. He turned his back slightly.
Erik was staring at his side and backside
Charles stealthily focused on the thoughts of the German and felt his appreciation for the shape of his butt.
He blushed slightly and stopped meddling in Erik's mind without permission.
The other raised his eyes to meet Charles’.
"Have you been sneaking into my mind?"
He didn't seem angry or annoyed. He had asked in a neutral, almost detached, tone.
"No..." Charles tried to lie. But he was a terrible liar. "Yes...just for a moment," he added, eyes not looking at Erik and blushing.
Erik smiled almost smugly. He seemed older than his thirties, his gaze seemed to be decades beyond that of Charles. Although they were only two years apart, it was as though Erik had lived two more lives than the young professor.
He was always ahead of Xavier, more and more prepared, inevitably more disenchanted and less likely to be overwhelmed.
"You have a nice ass... am I wrong to think so?" he asked, showing off an incredible number of very white teeth.
Charles thought for the umpteenth time that one of those days he would take the trouble to count them: Erik couldn't have had only thirty-two of them, they were certainly at least twice as many...
"Erik...." whispered Charles.
"Why are you embarrassed?"
Yes, why?
The young man sighed.
"I don't really know...perhaps because it's something I've always said," he ventured.
Erik raised an eyebrow, skeptical.
Again, teeth everywhere.
"You?" Erik was amused. "What did you use to say to a woman? 'Baby, you have a great ass'. Seriously?!"
"Stop it" the professor resented.
"No, I really mean it, Liebling. Do they say ass in Oxford?"
Erik laughed. And his laughter was breathtakingly beautiful.
"You idiot..." Charles rolled his eyes. "The Brits say a lot of bad words, and they are certainly nicer and more effective than the German ones!"
"I could agree with that. For example..." the German started to explain with a smirk.
"Stop!" Charles interrupted him. "I don't want to hear your vulgar vocabulary, Erik.
Lehnsherr remained with his mouth open and his forehead frowned as he heard such a formal sentence.
"For crying out loud, Professor! Now be a good boy and stand still while I pull out the pole you have stuck up your ass!"
"Erik...." complained Charles.
"Or even better: what if I were to replace it with something else?" he asked lasciviously in a grunt while he bit Charles’ neck.
"Don't be a fool!"
In response Erik moaned in his ear and licked it.
"Erik, come on..." squealed Charles due to the tickle of Erik's lips.
The German laughed as he squeezed Charles with his muscular arms and tickled his hips.
"Enough! Erik! Enough!"
He was indecently tickled.
It was such an excessive and humiliating weakness. For a long time it was the favorite weapon of anyone who came to know him well enough.
Not many people in truth...in fact it was Raven's favorite weapon. To tickle him had allowed her to get many yes's from her adopted brother.
Charles struggled to breathe through the spasms that Erik's long and strong fingers gave him. They hurt his hips as they pressed between the ribs. But he couldn't stop laughing.
"Erik! Erik, please! I am dying!"
Lehnsherr was too cruel to stop.
Who knows… maybe you will pass out eventually?
The German asked, determined to verify his sadistic hypothesis.
They rolled into bed laughing and screaming. Charles wept for the uncontrollable laughter, as well as for the effort to free himself from Erik's grip. The German spoke only in his mother tongue and laughed loudly.
Charles considered hurting him seriously so to make him stop. He tried to hit Erik’s balls but he retaliated and intensified his torture.
He left marks all over Charles' pale body: the next day he would appear as though he was recovering from a mysterious rash skin disease.
Xavier could not bear it any longer. He pushed a last thrust of the back while Erik blocked him by straddling his back and, literally, they flew out of bed with a thud.
They remained a few moments in silence stunned by the fall and uncertain whether to subside to anger, but it was easier to keep on laughing.
"Asshole!" Charles yelled out, stroking his buttocks.
"Uuuuh! Is that a typical expression of Oxford, Schatz?!"
"You moron! Look at those signs! You scratched me everywhere!"
"Poor, poor Charles!" Erik mocked him. He was still sitting on the floor, naked and shaken by laughter.
Charles was enchanted as he looked at him.
He replaced the childish pout with a beautiful smile and crawled towards the German.
He kissed him. Then he laughed and kissed him again.
"You are so damn handsome when you laugh, Erik. You are so..." He was overwhelmed with emotion.
Their relationship had gone beyond all expectations. At first they were just overwhelmed by their mutual attraction, by the wild, hard, obscene sex to which Charles was in no way accustomed, but which he now craved like air.
Then it had happened. During a fine weekend's dinner, just the two of them, something Charles had longed so much for. Erik had let himself go for the first time without being too drunk or ecstatic after an orgasm. Charles had felt like imploding when his lover asked him to read his mind.
They had really made love for the first time. They had joined their bodies and minds, and it had been something so intense that neither of them would ever experience again in life.
Erik looked at Charles and could only bite his lip.
"Tell me" said the professor in one breath.
"Charles..." whispered the other one as if he were begging.
"Tell me."
Erik looked at the floor.
The hard and ruthless German, the murderer with psychotic and sociopathic delusions, was as ashamed as a first-grader.
He looked up again at Charles.
"Oh Charles... stop it...."
Xavier rolled his eyes and yanked him by the back of his neck.
"Tell me, damn it! Tell me that you love me. His tone didn't allow objections.
"I don't love you at all, Amerikaner!" Erik jested. "And then...get it over with! You're always getting inside my head, Charles: you know very well how I feel."
"Tell me..."
"Scheiße! I love you, happy?!"
Charles watched him with his eyes reduced to slits.
"Be more convincing."
"Charles, I swear to God, I am going to punch you!"
Erik moved towards the professor, still crawling on all fours on the floor. He kissed him slowly, lingering for a long time on those red lips, brushing his tongue slowly as if it were the first time.
"I love you," he sighed. "I love you so fucking much, Charles!"
Never was a statement more heartfelt.
Charles laughed.
"You are really adorable, Erik!"
The shark got up with disdain and silently told Charles to piss off.
"You know, you could at least be more discreet," began harshly Raven, when she was alone with her brother.
“I beg your pardon?"
"Stop it, Charles! Don't play dumb with me. Last night you made such a noise! It seemed as if the house was coming down at some point. Is it possible to know in what kind of sexual practices you two dabble?!"
Charles couldn't believe his own ears: Raven was seriously talking to him about sex. About sex with a man. About sex that Charles, presumably, was having with another man.
He blushed violently. He did not want to have that conversation.
"Are you insane?! We were... Erik was...he was tickling me," he trailed off almost in a whisper. "How can you think that there is anything else going on between us?!"
"Are you serious?! Do you need the bullet points? The way you look at each other, all that time you spend together. There are days when I fear that Erik will jump you at any moment and start to ravish you!"
"You’re talking nonsense".
"And you're lying. And yet, you can tell it when two people have a sexual relationship. Let it be clear: I'm not judging you, Charles..."
"You would have no reason to do so. And what do you even know about it?"
"Charles, I have sex, you know?"
It was like receiving a bucket of cold water on his back.
"You what?! Oh, please come on…"
Raven looked him straight in the eye. Most likely she had not lied. He certainly would not have her statement verified. Not this time.
"Ok, I do not want to know it! Am I clear?" he asked rhetorically. He was so agitated.
Seriously: Raven couldn't already have an active sex life...and in any case: with whom?! Who the fuck had slipped between his sister's thighs?!
"You know Paul? The guy who was serving at the cafeteria near the Campus, in England?" Raven said, pretending to remember phenomenal sexual performances of such Paul-from-the -cafeteria.
"What exactly did you not understand know 'I don't want to know'?" Charles hissed. “Paul?! Paul who was so kind and shy, Paul who couldn’t even look you in the eye?! What a piece of shit!"
"Charles!" Raven burst out laughing. "Oh my God! Come on, are you really jealous?"
"You are my sister ... my little sister" he mumbled sulking.
"I believed you were a less obvious male. Your crush on Erik had earned you so many points... and if you must know: I didn't have sex with Paul. My virtue, which you care so much about, is saved!" she confessed and rolled her eyes.
"We're you mocking me? You really are a little bitch, Raven!"
His sister grimaced in response. Then she got up and sat on his knees.
"You know, I thought you liked women. You've done nothing but flirting with every miniskirt that you met in Oxford."
"I like women, Raven. Hey, will you stop that?!" he exclaimed, his face deep red.
She kissed him on one cheek.
"It doesn't matter to me. Whether you are homosexual or not, it makes no difference. I love you in any case, brother!" she declared, hugging him.
Charles was about to answer her that he was not a homosexual and with an elaborate lie he had quickly planned to explain to her the particular nature of his relationship with Erik. When the handsome German entered the room he immediately monopolized the attention of both Charles and Raven. It often happened whenever Lehnsherr shared a space with other people: his presence never went unnoticed, the way he occupied the surrounding space, the elegant but often brazenly inappropriate gestures, his objective charm and that glacial, fucking magnetic look. Nothing in Erik was ever predictable and everything about him was always incredibly attractive.
"What are you two confabulating about?" Erik asked with a mischievous smile.
Raven was quicker than his brother to answer. Charles was still standing still contemplating the beauty of his lover, wrapped in one of his usual tight-fitting turtlenecks.
"We were talking about sex, lost virginity and preferences between men and women!" exclaimed the girl, looking at Erik straight in the eye. Then she lingered for a few moments on the German's groin, being very careful that he would notice.
"Mmmm' moaned Erik licking his lips. "I like you two Xaviers more and more. I'll have a drink.”
"I'm begging you, Erik: don't indulge her!" Charles complained and stopped contemplating him.
"No, no, Erik! Indulge me..."
Raven abandoned Charles' lap and joined the German at the drinks' table.
She pressed her whole body against Erik, as he was pouring some scotch into a couple of glasses.
The contact made him stiffen up. Raven was beautiful, but young. And she was clearly attracted to him...and she was Charles' sister... And he loved Charles...
"You're not much of a knight, Erik" the blonde rebuked him, looking irritated at the pair of glasses.
"She doesn't drink scotch!" Charles interfered.
"You! Mind your own business!"
Erik watched them, undecided whether to feel amused or irritated by their squabbles.
"No, indeed. Chivalry is obvious and boring" he replied to Raven, gobbling up his drink. He saved just one finger and offered her his glass. Raven drank without being able to hide the burning that the alcohol caused in her throat, but she promptly licked her lips, aware of how that gesture would appear erotic.
Charles rolled his eyes in disconsolation. Erik swallowed smugly and a predatory grin appeared on his face.
He looks like a shark...
Be careful: he also bites like a shark ...