bakerstreet | kissing in the rain

[ Fights were bound to happen between them; they had different views, different mindsets and experiences, and attempting to pretend that they would be able to simply be friends, work alongside each other, without there being some kind of tension between them was ridiculous. Charles and Erik were close, dear friends - even if Erik might not admit it, giving a scathing remark and a cool glare instead - but there were always going to be problems rising between them that left them both flaming with anger.

That's how Erik finds himself stalking around the grounds of the Estate near dusk, the rain pounding down hard on him and his breath coming out even harder.

Charles was such an idealistic fool, beliving so desperately and wholeheartedly in humanity as a whole, as a race rather than as an entity that needed to be discouraged and tampered down. He was so devoted to the idea of mutant-humanic peace that it made Erik's blood boil and his hands clench until his fists were white as snow and the metal around them both sparked with his anger - and that's why he had left. He hadn't wanted his control to slip, for something to happen and leave Charles getting hurt more than he already was, thanks to Erik's misguided actions and inability to pay attention when fury takes over.

It takes about an hour and a half for him to pace his anger out, leaving nothing but a coiling regret and a strange empty feeling inside of himself. The rain has soaked him through to the bone and he feels - not hesitant, because he has always been filled with far too much confidence, but something near to it, enough to make him pause as he looks back at the house, wondering if Charles will come and find him. He hasn't felt a probe at his mind, hasn't felt his friend try and poke beyond his barriers and seek him out to make sure he's safe so, for a long moment, he fears he's alone all over again.

When he gets back to the door, however, Charles is there, waiting for him, and he can't resist for another moment. The rain is still pounding down around them, hard, feeling like it might bruise if he didn't pay attention, but Erik didn't really care. All he could focus on was moving forward and pressing his mouth against Charles', hard, almost biting as he gripped at his shoulder. ]

[their fights were more subtle years before when the mansions halls were a little more crowded, and the darkness didn't creep in at the edges in the middle of the night. nights when he shared his study with erik and they played chess and spoke well into the night; sometimes even into the grey pre-dawn hours. despite everything that happened, he still considered erik his friend, one of his only.

their disagreement this night had been over something relatively simple. not just talk of teaching charles' students control or defense, but moving well past that. he had put his proverbial foot down in protest, and it was only when hank's shadow darkened the door that erik had stormed outside. the metal in the room had shook on his way out and settled eventually, and charles let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

a large part of him is furious. he doesn't remember arguments ten years ago being so riling, but here he is, fuming and shaking as he tells himself that he absolutely will not go after the other man. let him catch his death of cold outside for all he cares.

he keeps himself firmly outside of erik's mind, but eventually his body gets the better of his mind, and he finds himself taking his chair outside to the steps. hank has yet to replace the ramp that he ended up dismantling himself after using the serum to regain use of his legs and drown out his powers; so he's left waiting, wondering. he peers into the dark, swallowing back the urge to call out for the other man either by voice or with his mind.

he sits there, peering into the pouring rain, and his face shows honest relief when he sees the other man make his way up to the house again. he's getting soaked, and hank will berate him about his chair not being built to withstand torrential downpours. he doesn't care about any of that as the only thing he can focus on is he came back, he came back. he knows it won't always be this way, but here and now, they can pretend this is something other than what it is, and they won't always be facing insurmountable odds placed their by the other.

anything he might say as the other man comes up is cut off as the other man is suddenly close and filling up every sense he has. the kiss is far from gentle and he can't find it in himself to care. the days of gentle touches and soft whispers and talks in the still of the night are gone for them. they were lost on a beach in cuba where they both suddenly learned how to be alone again. they were lost when erik found himself in a prison and charles left in the one he found the empty school to be, and he just couldn't take it any more. he lost himself to drowning out the pain. the voices.

he can taste the rain water on his lips, as he returns the kiss with fervor. he can't tell if what he pours into it is want or agitation or some strange mixture of both. he can feel the grip of his hand on his shoulder, and the warmth that spreads their despite the cold of the rain having soaked through his shirt. his hair, still long, is wet and stringy against his face. his own hands reach up, fisting in erik's shirtfront to keep him from pulling away, should he suddenly try.]

[ Nothing feels quite as good as being around Charles does; it's like being beside him allows Erik to be open, free to speak his mind and admit all the sad, sickening things that he'd never be able to say aloud otherwise. He knows he won't be judged for his nightmares, for the panics he has, the way he absently scratches at the numbers on his arm and tries to hide them from the students. He won't be reprimanded for shouting or getting too passionate, for feeling things in a way he hadn't been sure he was capable of anymore. Charles brought out the emotional side of him and wanted it to stay that way; he wanted Erik to become a little more human.

A part of him loathed the very idea - as if allowing his mind to fall prey to Charles' gentle smiles and poking mutation was somehow more human than how he had lived before - but at the same time he welcomed it. It was as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and placed elsewhere to be dealt with later, a place where he didn't have to focus on rage and anger to open a locked door or turn a plane. It was just him and the peace that came with standing by Charles' side.

It's hard to tell what Charles is feeling when there's no poke at his mind, no pressure for him to open up and let his friend - partner? Brother? More? He didn't know anymore, afraid to ask and hear an answer that made his heart ache - understand what he was feeling without the need for words. He has to do it alone and it makes the kiss even more desperate, even harder for Erik to let go of. There's no shouting if your mouth is too busy to open.

His hands are cold and shaken as they move across Charles' skin, fingertips touching at his neck and jaw before one hand moves, reaching up to curl around his damp, sodden hair and grip - not enough to hurt, but enough to keep him in place as Erik near enough devours his mouth. He feels starved for him, as though the short time without a shared mind has left him aching and wanting for things that he can't name nor express; wanting Charles, in every way it was possible, for him to pulse through his body like a second heartbeat.

Sometimes it feels like Charles is already inside of him, taking up every spare corner of his mind and filling it with hope, joy, happiness, slowly draining the rage and anger from him and urging him to become better. As he leans into the kiss, biting, hard, nothing like the serenity his friend had once asked from him, Erik thinks for a moment that's what Charles tastes like; he tastes like hope, a future, things that were so foreign to Erik once the words almost held no meaning. Charles tastes like freedom, and he's addicted to it.

Close to pulling away, Erik is almost startled when Charles' hands grip at his shirt and hauls him closer, dragging their bodies against one another as much as was possible from the awkwardness of the angle. His own hands slip against the other man's skin, damp from the rain and unable to touch as much as he wants, to feel Charles all over - he sends out a nudge with his mind, desperate, hoping that he's paying attention - he needs to feel that connection, that spark, all over again, he needs to know Charles still wants to find a place there, to find a home in Erik's mind no matter how often they fight.

Both his hands drop to cup Charles' cheeks, finally, and he leans back; he's wet, cold, shivering - more from the kiss than the weather, he can't deny that - and his eyes gaze down at his friend before he swallows the lump in his throat. He won't move away, won't break this moment, not for anything, but there is so much he wants to say and no words enough for it. ] I cannot say I'm sorry, Charles.

[on days when he's allowed it. when things are much closer to how they used to be, he lingers in erik's mind, just outside of his conscious awareness, but doesn't pry. he remains there should he be needed. should the panic rise and become too much. he remains as a balm. a barrier, if ever erik should ask for as much.

despite their disagreements, the children have grown to care for erik there as much as charles has. many of the younger ones do not know the fear charles holds of the day when he will wake up and erik will not be there, and his mind will be too far away or too shielded for him. he dreads that day with every breath he pulls in.

though he knows, unlike other times, he is more welcome in the other man's mind, he still keeps his distance. mostly it is for his own selfish reasons, as he is not certain he will fare well when that connection is once again severed and shut away from him. it makes the kiss in answer frantic, far from the peaceful facade he so carefully affects when the school is alive and bustling.

it is a stolen moment for himself and erik shared in the dark of the night like so much of themselves now. stolen in the cold rain as it pours down. everything is stolen. the biting nature of the kiss earns a gasp and he answers it with the same sharp flash and nip. he licks his way into erik's mouth, feeling his larger hand curl in his hair to keep him from breaking the connection. not that charles would want it, not here, not ever, but neither of them always get what it is that they want.

he feels the mental nudge, and a part of charles will always marvel at how erik picked it up so quickly when it took himself and raven so long to work out the nuances. it was as if it was meant to be. like their minds were always meant to be shared, two interlocking pieces of a puzzle scattered and finally reunited. he opens his mind up to him, warmth mingling with that desperation he feels, even as erik finally leans back.

the other man's hands slide against his wet cheeks, and he licks at his own lips to savor the lingering taste of the other man against his own. he can feel the shiver from where his hands rest, but also as if it were a part of himself. he finds that he's having difficulty telling which of them is shivering or if it is both. he can't tell if the lump in his throat is a phantom of his own desire to keep this moment, or erik's.] I know. I know, Erik.

Good.

[ Of course Charles knows he won't apologise - it's not in his nature, not if he can avoid it. He's never been particularly capable of admitting his own faults and allowing himself to admit when there have been problems that, really, were all his own doing. He takes pride in the fact that, even now, with their hearts on the edge and their minds touching, gently, he has an upper hand.

It's impossible not to chase the echoing taste of Charles, though, leaning in and kissing at his lips, chastely, before letting his own wander down, caressing his jaw with a tender press of mouth on skin. He wants to enjoy this moment, this silent bliss, before they're forced to go back inside and warm themselves, to sit and discuss their argument or fall into bed beside one another and find another way to release the pent up anger.

In a way, Charles is agony. Finding a home here, with the children of tomorrow respecting him, learning from him, with his only friend at his side offering a hand each and every morning - it's enough to get addicted to. Erik knows, however, that one day he might end up being stolen away by his own ambition, all over again, and as much as he longs for that freedom he also longs for this, a home, a place to call his own and a love to lay his heart. His mother might have been proud of that, if nothing else.

Eventually he drags himself away from those particular thoughts, letting his mind move and caress Charles' instead. It feels rather like there's a built in system with their mutation, like they were always supposed to find one another and be linked like this, so deeply and solidly that breaking it was like a new kind of torture. Feeling Charles' control wash over him, touching but not taking, almost soothing, has Erik making a soft noise against his throat, biting gently before he forces himself up and into another kiss.

This is far easier than words, after all. A kiss can explain so much more than anything in any of the languages Erik is fluent in, especially with his emotions so bare and obvious in his unshielded mind. If there is anything Charles wants to know all he has to do is nudge at Erik's brain, poke inside, and it would be open like a book, fresh and ready for him to devour.

It's the howl of the wind that reminds him of where he is and Erik leans back, licking his lips before he looks around, fingers still brushing along Charles' neck tenderly. ] You should get inside - you'll catch a cold. [ He glances down, still drenched himself, but with a bright eyed smirk decorating his face. ] I'm not sure how the school would cope if you were ill.

[he returns the chaste kiss, surprised when erik's mouth wanders further down and finds his jaw, and it pulls a pleased sigh from him. they have so few of these moments, even know while they each profess to be on the other's side. eventually they'll retreat inside, but not yet.

charles would never turn erik away. he is one of a handful of people, who aren't his students, that he will always have his door open for. he knows that it is difficult to sit and teach, instead of act, but each day he wakes up to the familiar presence of his friend's mind is enough to help him remember that at least they have this day left together.

he feels, physically and mentally the noise made against his neck before teeth find their way against his skin, and it pulls a groan from charles. the noise is swallowed by another kiss, and one of the hands in erik's shirt slides up to curl in the hair at the nape of his neck, sharply tugging.

the first time he ventured into erik's mind, it had been uninvited. after, a tentative appreciation had grown of his gift and their ability to communicate without words should erik wish it. here, without the damned helmet to cut him off and seclude him from the other, he wants to bury himself inside of the other man and stay, but he knows that to do that will only bring him more pain the day it ends. so he doesn't.

the wind ruins the moment, bringing the cold of reality back in, and erik leans back. the brush against his neck where the echo of slight pain from the bite is enough to cause a shiver for more reasons than the cold. they are both absolutely soaked, but charles finds himself chuckling.]

I'm certain the children would forgive me. Hank---not so much.

[ It had taken him some time to admit how much he had wanted Charles after they had met. Erik had never been the type of person to give into the baser side of his desires, wanting to let himself focus on vengeance and his rage rather than the passion of sex and romance - but with this man, this wonderful man, it was almost too easy to be dragged in and stumble against him, to want him in ways that had been so foreign to him for so very long.

Even though he knows they should go inside it's so hard to tear his mouth away from Charles', to keep their lips apart for long enough to go back in. Leaving the doorstep would mean changing clothes, showering, being apart from one another until Erik crawled back to Charles' side and pressed their mouths together all over again and he didn't think he could survive being apart even for that tiny amount of time. He's still frustrated, angry, but he wants Charles, adores Charles, more than any of his rage. In the balance between his anger and his lover he would choose Charles every time.

Still, he leans into more kisses, pressing hard against Charles' mouth, letting his hair be pulled and his body lean closer, reaching to draw Charles against him so he can kiss, nip, hold - all the things he wants but can't express. Even the quiet groan is enough to make Erik's eyes slide close and a shiver run down his spine. How can he not want this? How can he not adore the simple pleasure they give one another, the heat that ignites inside of him every time they touch? It's agony and the cure all at once.

Finally, though, the chill of the wind and the shiver they both feel urges him to step away, to lift his hand to brush a stray raindrop away from Charles' eye. He nods, once, lifting himself and using his mind to open the front door again, letting Charles move himself inside. He'd take control of the chair himself and just fly them in, but he doesn't want to do anything that would entice Charles' fury. He can keep himself in check for that, at least. ]

Hank might go Beast on me for daring. [ Not that he cares too much. He and Hank had fought over many things since his return and he had never quite been forgiven for the mistakes in his past. All the same, Erik does want to go back to getting along with the other man despite the bad choices they've both made, despite Hank becoming Charles' enabler. It'll just take time. ] Inside. Now.

[it's only after the brush against his face to bear away the wet of the rain, and erik's opening of the door, that he finally moves back. he gets himself inside. he knows erik's impatience would threaten to spoil the moment, but he also knows the other man wouldn't give in because it would upset him.

wet trails follow them inside as they head in, and charles smiles back at the other man.] Perhaps.

But then perhaps you'd simply have to wait on me in bed.

[ The door slams shut behind them and Erik moves through the house slowly. He has his own room upstairs, somewhere tucked away and quiet where no student dares knock for fear of his wrath, but he would much rather trail to Charles', to curl up in the far too big bed and settle down beside him. There's never been anything he's liked more than waking up beside Charles, even if he's always tried to flee in the mornings long before he partner joins him.

Fear is a powerful thing, he's always known it.

Reaching out, he brushes hair from Charles' face as they walk, curling it behind an ear with a gentle touch before he hears; and, oh, Charles has always been good with words. Erik has his guns and his metal, Charles has his mind and his whispered words. He grins, though, all teeth and obvious pleasure. ]

You say that like you wouldn't want me waiting on you in bed, Charles.

[charles can't help as his smile twists into something more of a smirk. he can sense the thrill and pleasure rolling off of him.]

I could always pretend to be a little under the weather. [he raises a hand to cover his smile and lets go a small, weak cough.]

I'm feeling a bit chilled.

Oh, dear. Well, we mustn't let our dear Professor catch a chill.

[ He grins, nodding his head and starting towards the elevator that'll go up to Charles' bedroom. Despite his chair he hadn't given up the fine room alongside his study and Erik hadn't wanted him to; that's why they expanded the technology of the mansion enough to fit it inside. ]

I'll have to try and warm you up. I wonder how I should do it.

That would be terrible. Think of all the classes I'd have to cancel. I'd have absolutely nothing to do tomorrow.

[not that the children would mind. they'd be delighted at the idea of a day off of school. he heads to the elevator with him, and then into it, pressing the button for the floor that will take them to the level his room resides on.]

I'm sure you can think of a way or two.

The students would celebrate and I would be horrified and forced to play doctor.

[ And they both know he would make a terrible doctor. Shaking his head, he leans down and kisses Charles gently, just a tender press of their mouths, his fingertips brushing over his cheek. ]

Let's get you upstairs first.

Would you honestly be so terrified of looking after me for a day while I was laid up in bed miserable?

[as the elevator starts to move he casts a glance back to erik, and leans up to kiss him back. he reaches up to curl his hands over erik's as they brush his cheek.]

Yes, of course.

I would not. I think having you at my mercy would be almost a pleasure.

[ He smiles, leaning down closer before he nods his head, shaking away his want for a moment. ]

After you, my friend.

Mercy, you say? I'm intrigued as to how you must picture it then.

[he waits until the doors close and presses the button for the next floor up, so that they can make their way to the room they share.]

I can think of a few things, here and there. Most of them, admittedly, employ some level of nakedness.

I think there may be some issue with your medical techniques, but you're hardly a doctor, so I assume I must forgive you.

[as the lift begins to move, charles reaches up to grab the wet hem of erik's shirt and tug; insistent he must come down for another kiss. yes, he's demanding tonight. he is allowed at times.]

Everything is self-taught, Charles. I doubt you can fault me for that.

[ He shifts with the pull, lips twisting into a grin even as he presses their mouths together hard; how has he ever been able to resist this man? He doesn't think he can, truly. ]

You're right, I can't.

[he chuckles softly as erik grins, but leans down to meet him for another kiss. the hand at the hem of his shirt lets go and he shifts it up to thread fingers through erik's hair, tugging slightly to keep him close as he kisses him back with fervor.

they are both poor at measures of control when it comes to the other.]

[ He moves closer and closer, drawing him closer and breathing hard against Charles' lips, swallowing back the desperate moan bubbling in his throat. When he leans back he bites his lip, cheeks pink. ]

God, Charles.

Erik

[were he not aware of his reaction to erik by now he would possibly think to be embarrassed at how quickly the other man manages to get under his skin. how it's easy to swallow each breath that comes from his lips, and press for more until they have to break away, gasping. to bite until his lips are red.

he can't help another slight tug at his hair, heart pounding in his chest.]

[ He groans quietly and moves, shifting closer and drawing Charles into a kiss, biting at his mouth and groaning quietly. Shifting, he strokes along his jaw before he grins, nudging their noses together.

God, he loves this man. ]

Yes, Charles?

[the quiet groan from the other man sends a shock of warmth through him that settles low in his belly and he swallows the next quiet sound. he pulls away, though, grinning, and it is charles' turn to give a soft whine of a protest.]

I think---perhaps some distance is needed or we'll never make it to our room.

[but he is loathe to let go from where his hand still curls in erik's hair, fingers brushing and tugging gently. he loves erik with everything he is, and nothing can change that. their trials have already seen to as much.

while they may argue vehemently, and bitterly disagree; they cannot stay away from the other for too long. and charles would hardly wish to.]

kissing in the rain

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