Categories > Movies > X-Men: The Movie > Chapters In The Book Of You And Me
Jealousy:
He has to know. There's no way he's that oblivious. The way that man is leaning in ever so slightly in to Charles with all the little touches; a pat on the knee, a brush against the shoulder, fingers lingering over glasses. Erik's grip tightens on his glass as he watches Charles. There is no way he could be unaware that the man chatting him up at the bar wants to get in his pants. Teeth grinding, Erik brings the glass to his lips taking a gulp as he watches Charles from afar. A pat on the shoulder and Charles is no walking back to their table, a new round in hand. Erik fights the urge to use the metal in the man's dog tags hanging from his neck to choke him when he catches the man eying Charles' ass, a glimmer of lust evident in his eyes. Placing a new glass of beer in front of Erik Charles smirks taking a seat across from the metal bender, "really darling, jealousy is so ill befitting of you."
Red:
Erik can't help but marvel over Charles' lips. The way they naturally curve in a simple yet eloquent smile. How when he's mad or moping they form a particularly adorable little pout. The way they part slightly when he's drinking or how when he's nervous he chews worriedly at his bottom lip. But the thing that most fascinates Erik is how those heavenly lips are perpetually caught in a shade of red. It's like a flashing sign begging for them to be kissed, and soon; Erik is all too happy to oblige.
Chocolate:
Charles was never a fan of chocolate, he felt the substance was overly sweet and simply too decadent. However, he's prepared to change his opinion of the treat after this morning's events. It's not that he's surprised to find Erik sitting at the table when he enters the kitchen, no that's expected the man's an early riser. What does surprise him is the fact that Erik has a chocolate bar that he's in the process of unwrapping. "That's hardly a suitable breakfast," Charles chastises. Erik only offers a shrug in response as he pulls out the bar from the offending wrapper. Charles watches in rapt attention as Erik draws his tongue across the bar before taking a bit. Eyes closed in appreciation a soft moan is emitted from his lips as he savors the rich taste of chocolate filling his mouth. Licking his lips Charles looks on as Erik continues his process. The way his tongue darts out flicking over the bar, the moans leaving his partially parted lips, the small smile skirting across his face, the way he slowly draws in one finger at a time licking away the melted chocolate. Standing up Charles walks the length of the table until he's in front of Erik. Leaning over he drops his mouth level with Erik's letting his tongue dart out to lick away the stray chocolate plastered along the man's chin. Yes, Charles certainly had to change his position on chocolate.
New Year's:
There's been far too much champagne drunk, and now their heads are spinning. A feeling of warmth spreading from his stomach, a result of the alcohol now settled there, leaves Charles absolutely giddy. Grinning wildly he pulls Erik up from his seat stumbling slightly over his own two feet as he leads them to the balcony. "Charles, what're you doin'," Erik slurs following the telepath. "Shhh, you'll see." Closing the door Charles turns around to face Erik, a soft smile gracing his lips. Stepping closer he brought his arms to loop around Erik's neck as he stood on his tip toes. "Five," he whispered leaning in, getting slightly closer with each number, "four, three, two, one," he finishes closing the gap between their lips. The kiss was soft and sweet and entirely too short for Erik's liking. Pulling back Charles murmured "happy new year's darling," before leaning in again; only this time the kiss had more drive behind it.
Sofa:
They've already been through half a dozen, each faulty in some fashion or another. Too soft, not soft enough, too gaudy, such a horrendous color, didn't match the color of the living room, and white with four teenagers running amuck was truly a bad idea in general. Pinching the bridge of his nose Erik shakes his head in disbelief. "And what's wrong with this one Charles?" Sighing exasperatedly the smaller man motioned at the offending object, "it's just-" raising an eyebrow Erik looked at Charles "it's just what," he asked testily. Charles looked at a loss for words as he stared between the couch and Erik. Fed up Erik stepped forward pressing a hand to Charles' chest pushing the man into the couch before throwing a leg over to straddle him. Bringing his hands to rest on the back of the couch Erik ground his hips against Charles. Lowering his head so his mouth was level with Charles' ears he whispered "I think this couch is perfect." Gulping Charles nodded frantically, "this one for sure."
Dancing:
Erik is drenched in sweat, tank top sticking to his body as he continues to move around the bunker in increasingly more difficult patterns. Body swaying he spins allowing his arms to extend as he moves in time with the music emanating from the record player in the corner. It's an outlet, a source of comfort, and he's so focused on the music that the sudden sound of clapping throws him off. Halting mid spin Erik whirls around; he relaxes when he sees Charles leaning against the door frame. "That was simply splendid Erik; I didn't know you could dance." Erik feels his cheeks burn and he offers a simple nod in return. Pushing off the door Charles strides closer until the distance between them has vanished completely. Handing Erik a towel Charles smiles, "are you familiar with the waltz?" Wiping his brow Erik grins at Charles, "proficient."
Nightmare:
Charles is notoriously a heavy sleeper. Being a telepath, one has to be if they're to get any sleep. Tonight however, is different. Normally able to block out the world and soundly sleep through the night, Charles finds himself shooting up in bed at three in the morning from the jostling coming from the left of him. Eyes adjusting to the lack of light in the room he notices Erik, cheeks flushed, hair pasted to his forehead as he twit and turns under the sheets. His mouth is turned downwards in a frown when Charles hears a broken 'no' slip past his lips. Placing a hand on Erik's shoulder Charles gives a frantic shake hurriedly whispering "wake up Erik. Wake up, everything's ok, it's just a dream." Eyes' shooting open Erik sits up gasping. Coughing violently, Erik's body begins to shake as tears stream down his cheeks. Charles doesn't ask, he knows not to. He just puts his arms around Erik and draws the man into his chest. "I'm here, you're safe," he whispers stroking Erik's hair.
Moonlight:
It's a clear night and the moon, bright and full, is sitting up high in the sky. Leaning against the terrace railing Erik is simply gazing up in wonder at the stars and moon above. The clicking of a closing door behind him alerts him to Charles' return. "You know the word lunacy comes from the word lunar meaning moon. People used to believe one's mental state could be affected by the moon," Charles states handing Erik a glass of brandy. Taking a sip Erik nods thoughtfully "you don't say?" Charles takes a sip of his own "it's true." "Well tell me Charles, are you feeling crazy tonight," he asks waggling his eyebrows. A devious smirk stretches across Charles' face as he takes another casual sip before responding "more reckless, but I'll let you decide if I get crazy." Erik laughs softly "am I in danger Charles," he asks quirking an eyebrow. Placing his glass on the railing Charles grins in response. "No more than usual," he whispers pressing his body against Erik as he draws the man in for a kiss.
Scars:
Face as white as a sheet Erik's eyes are blown wide filled with terror. Physically he's sitting across the chessboard from Charles, but mentally he's far away. He's somewhere back in 1944 reliving the horrors he went through at the hands of Herr Doctor. Charles quickly rips the needle off the record not caring if it scratches. He can feel the fear rolling off Erik and stopping it is the only thing that matters to him. Shaking Erik looks to Charles eyes glazed over with unshed tears. He looks so small I sitting in that overstuffed chair. He's no longer the man Erik Lensherr filled with confidence; no, now he's back to that scared little boy standing across from Herr Doctor. The little boy strapped to a table with metal hooks in his mouth squirming out of fright. Eyes fixed on the contorted picture frame on the end table Erik whispers out "sorry." Charles shakes his head dropping down to his knees in front of Erik. "No, it's not your fault," he murmurs placing a hand on his thigh. Erik nods letting out a shuddering breath as he wipes away the unshed tears. "Not your fault," Charles whispers again. And he knows that it isn't because some wounds just never heal.
Silence:
No words are needed in moments like these. Sitting side by side on the couch watching the evening news they are content to simply hold one another. The soft lull of the television accompanied by the persistent ticking of the grandfather clock is the only sound in the room. No words are needed because the silence says so much. Safety, happiness, love, family, home. I love you. So do I. Curled up on the couch in each other's arms with the television set on low no words are needed.
He has to know. There's no way he's that oblivious. The way that man is leaning in ever so slightly in to Charles with all the little touches; a pat on the knee, a brush against the shoulder, fingers lingering over glasses. Erik's grip tightens on his glass as he watches Charles. There is no way he could be unaware that the man chatting him up at the bar wants to get in his pants. Teeth grinding, Erik brings the glass to his lips taking a gulp as he watches Charles from afar. A pat on the shoulder and Charles is no walking back to their table, a new round in hand. Erik fights the urge to use the metal in the man's dog tags hanging from his neck to choke him when he catches the man eying Charles' ass, a glimmer of lust evident in his eyes. Placing a new glass of beer in front of Erik Charles smirks taking a seat across from the metal bender, "really darling, jealousy is so ill befitting of you."
Red:
Erik can't help but marvel over Charles' lips. The way they naturally curve in a simple yet eloquent smile. How when he's mad or moping they form a particularly adorable little pout. The way they part slightly when he's drinking or how when he's nervous he chews worriedly at his bottom lip. But the thing that most fascinates Erik is how those heavenly lips are perpetually caught in a shade of red. It's like a flashing sign begging for them to be kissed, and soon; Erik is all too happy to oblige.
Chocolate:
Charles was never a fan of chocolate, he felt the substance was overly sweet and simply too decadent. However, he's prepared to change his opinion of the treat after this morning's events. It's not that he's surprised to find Erik sitting at the table when he enters the kitchen, no that's expected the man's an early riser. What does surprise him is the fact that Erik has a chocolate bar that he's in the process of unwrapping. "That's hardly a suitable breakfast," Charles chastises. Erik only offers a shrug in response as he pulls out the bar from the offending wrapper. Charles watches in rapt attention as Erik draws his tongue across the bar before taking a bit. Eyes closed in appreciation a soft moan is emitted from his lips as he savors the rich taste of chocolate filling his mouth. Licking his lips Charles looks on as Erik continues his process. The way his tongue darts out flicking over the bar, the moans leaving his partially parted lips, the small smile skirting across his face, the way he slowly draws in one finger at a time licking away the melted chocolate. Standing up Charles walks the length of the table until he's in front of Erik. Leaning over he drops his mouth level with Erik's letting his tongue dart out to lick away the stray chocolate plastered along the man's chin. Yes, Charles certainly had to change his position on chocolate.
New Year's:
There's been far too much champagne drunk, and now their heads are spinning. A feeling of warmth spreading from his stomach, a result of the alcohol now settled there, leaves Charles absolutely giddy. Grinning wildly he pulls Erik up from his seat stumbling slightly over his own two feet as he leads them to the balcony. "Charles, what're you doin'," Erik slurs following the telepath. "Shhh, you'll see." Closing the door Charles turns around to face Erik, a soft smile gracing his lips. Stepping closer he brought his arms to loop around Erik's neck as he stood on his tip toes. "Five," he whispered leaning in, getting slightly closer with each number, "four, three, two, one," he finishes closing the gap between their lips. The kiss was soft and sweet and entirely too short for Erik's liking. Pulling back Charles murmured "happy new year's darling," before leaning in again; only this time the kiss had more drive behind it.
Sofa:
They've already been through half a dozen, each faulty in some fashion or another. Too soft, not soft enough, too gaudy, such a horrendous color, didn't match the color of the living room, and white with four teenagers running amuck was truly a bad idea in general. Pinching the bridge of his nose Erik shakes his head in disbelief. "And what's wrong with this one Charles?" Sighing exasperatedly the smaller man motioned at the offending object, "it's just-" raising an eyebrow Erik looked at Charles "it's just what," he asked testily. Charles looked at a loss for words as he stared between the couch and Erik. Fed up Erik stepped forward pressing a hand to Charles' chest pushing the man into the couch before throwing a leg over to straddle him. Bringing his hands to rest on the back of the couch Erik ground his hips against Charles. Lowering his head so his mouth was level with Charles' ears he whispered "I think this couch is perfect." Gulping Charles nodded frantically, "this one for sure."
Dancing:
Erik is drenched in sweat, tank top sticking to his body as he continues to move around the bunker in increasingly more difficult patterns. Body swaying he spins allowing his arms to extend as he moves in time with the music emanating from the record player in the corner. It's an outlet, a source of comfort, and he's so focused on the music that the sudden sound of clapping throws him off. Halting mid spin Erik whirls around; he relaxes when he sees Charles leaning against the door frame. "That was simply splendid Erik; I didn't know you could dance." Erik feels his cheeks burn and he offers a simple nod in return. Pushing off the door Charles strides closer until the distance between them has vanished completely. Handing Erik a towel Charles smiles, "are you familiar with the waltz?" Wiping his brow Erik grins at Charles, "proficient."
Nightmare:
Charles is notoriously a heavy sleeper. Being a telepath, one has to be if they're to get any sleep. Tonight however, is different. Normally able to block out the world and soundly sleep through the night, Charles finds himself shooting up in bed at three in the morning from the jostling coming from the left of him. Eyes adjusting to the lack of light in the room he notices Erik, cheeks flushed, hair pasted to his forehead as he twit and turns under the sheets. His mouth is turned downwards in a frown when Charles hears a broken 'no' slip past his lips. Placing a hand on Erik's shoulder Charles gives a frantic shake hurriedly whispering "wake up Erik. Wake up, everything's ok, it's just a dream." Eyes' shooting open Erik sits up gasping. Coughing violently, Erik's body begins to shake as tears stream down his cheeks. Charles doesn't ask, he knows not to. He just puts his arms around Erik and draws the man into his chest. "I'm here, you're safe," he whispers stroking Erik's hair.
Moonlight:
It's a clear night and the moon, bright and full, is sitting up high in the sky. Leaning against the terrace railing Erik is simply gazing up in wonder at the stars and moon above. The clicking of a closing door behind him alerts him to Charles' return. "You know the word lunacy comes from the word lunar meaning moon. People used to believe one's mental state could be affected by the moon," Charles states handing Erik a glass of brandy. Taking a sip Erik nods thoughtfully "you don't say?" Charles takes a sip of his own "it's true." "Well tell me Charles, are you feeling crazy tonight," he asks waggling his eyebrows. A devious smirk stretches across Charles' face as he takes another casual sip before responding "more reckless, but I'll let you decide if I get crazy." Erik laughs softly "am I in danger Charles," he asks quirking an eyebrow. Placing his glass on the railing Charles grins in response. "No more than usual," he whispers pressing his body against Erik as he draws the man in for a kiss.
Scars:
Face as white as a sheet Erik's eyes are blown wide filled with terror. Physically he's sitting across the chessboard from Charles, but mentally he's far away. He's somewhere back in 1944 reliving the horrors he went through at the hands of Herr Doctor. Charles quickly rips the needle off the record not caring if it scratches. He can feel the fear rolling off Erik and stopping it is the only thing that matters to him. Shaking Erik looks to Charles eyes glazed over with unshed tears. He looks so small I sitting in that overstuffed chair. He's no longer the man Erik Lensherr filled with confidence; no, now he's back to that scared little boy standing across from Herr Doctor. The little boy strapped to a table with metal hooks in his mouth squirming out of fright. Eyes fixed on the contorted picture frame on the end table Erik whispers out "sorry." Charles shakes his head dropping down to his knees in front of Erik. "No, it's not your fault," he murmurs placing a hand on his thigh. Erik nods letting out a shuddering breath as he wipes away the unshed tears. "Not your fault," Charles whispers again. And he knows that it isn't because some wounds just never heal.
Silence:
No words are needed in moments like these. Sitting side by side on the couch watching the evening news they are content to simply hold one another. The soft lull of the television accompanied by the persistent ticking of the grandfather clock is the only sound in the room. No words are needed because the silence says so much. Safety, happiness, love, family, home. I love you. So do I. Curled up on the couch in each other's arms with the television set on low no words are needed.
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