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Charles and Erik don't spend much time making out, at least not in public. It's not something they decided or even talked about; it just happened – or didn’t happen, as it were.
Charles doesn't realize this until three weeks into their relationship, when he overhears Hannah complaining viciously to Chantal that if she has to squeeze by Alice and Thomas liplocked in the middle of the corridor one more time she's going to kill someone. Chantal attempted to placate her by saying "They've just been together for five weeks, they'll stop eventually."
We don't snog at all, and we've been together three weeks, Charles thinks, an absent-minded observation that stopped him short in his tracks the next moment.
For the next two hours, he worries that this might mean they're not as into each other as they should be, but then he remembers what they did four days ago in Charles' bed. The memory of Erik's flushed cheeks and dark eyes drives the blood to his cheeks (and other areas of his body). They're definitely into each other. A lot. Not literally, but… well.
After he's managed to calm down (public boners mid-class are absolutely mortifying) somewhat, he continues thinking about the issue at hand, wondering if there had been any cues at the beginning, if they maybe tried it but stopped for some reason, but he can't remember ever even feeling the inclination to. He'd never even considered it.
This is why, when he meets up with Moira and Erik for lunch break, he decides to test it. Sitting down next to his boyfriend, he takes Erik's hand and leans in, tugging at it at the same time. Erik reacts immediately, leaning in as well. Their lips meet in a kiss, soft and sweet and sending Charles' heart racing. He's just wondering whether he should just slip Erik the tongue when Erik pulls away again. With a pleased expression Erik squeezes Charles' hand and smiles. "Hi."
"Hey," Charles replies, unable to suppress his answering smile. He's not sure this is what he intended to happen, but he doesn't even remember what that was supposed to be, or why he wanted it in the first place.
Moira's loud groan disrupts the moment.
"Oh god, please don't tell me you're going to become one of those public tonsil-hockey couples," she snaps.
Charles blinks at her, taken-aback by her derisiveness. Lately, Moira has been a bit mean on occasion; Erik thinks it's because she wanted to be with Erik as well and is pissed that Charles got there first, but Charles doesn't want to believe Moira could be that childish.
"You know, I can never tell if they're together because they love each other or just because they want to have a relationship so they can feel superior towards us poor, unloved people," Moira continues viciously, arms crossed and glaring at them.
"That's not fair," Charles rebukes her gently. "Also, you are not unloved."
Looking slightly chastised, Moira sits back in her chair and starts pushing her fork through her mashed potatoes sullenly.
"We're not going to make out in public," Erik informs Moira. We're not? Charles thinks, vaguely surprised. Erik says that as if they talked about it. "It's private."
Oh, Charles thinks. Suddenly he realized that he's spent half the day worrying about something he isn't even sure he wants, because he agrees with Erik. He doesn't think that it's wrong when others kiss a lot in public the way Moira apparently does, but he recalls the mood between them when they close the door to Charles' room behind themselves, nervous anticipation and excitement, and the way Erik becomes affectionate and tender, smiling a lot. He doesn't want to share that with others, and he doesn't want it to not happen when they kiss because Erik might be holding back, aware that they're being watched.
No, he wants all of Erik, and he wants it to himself. There won't be any public make-out sessions for them.