A/N: Wherein everyone is drenched in sexy angst. Unf unf.
Their relationship has evolved since the first meeting, and they've met many times in between to exchange banter and annoy each other.
This story can be read independently of Lover and a Hater, though they are in the same canon.
All the Better to Have You With
Charles remained steadfastly calm when he noticed the bloodstains. No doubt Hank would smell them, so he found that familiar mind down the stairs. Hank? I think I'm going to rest for now. I'll call when I need you, yes? There was a ripple of acknowledgement and the next moment Charles wheeled down the upstairs hall, frown growing increasingly deep as the spatters of blood continued in a definite path. Stopping outside the door to his personal quarters, Charles reached beyond the solid wood and searched for a mind. There was something… there…
He reeled back as if he'd just stuck his hand into a pit of scorpions. Pupils blown wide, Charles clutched his chest and struggled to calm his heart. Blue eyes boring into the door, he made a decision and moved forward. It creaked only slightly when it opened. What greeted him was something both unforeseen yet expected. Expected because no mind anywhere in this universe felt like that. Only one mind could leave that impression.
What surprised him was the state the man was in. The lanky, feline form was sprawled against the bed as if he'd collapsed climbing onto it. Blood covered his chest, seeped down slender limbs to streak alarmingly white skin. His angular face was drawn and green eyes were glazed a feverish sheen. He turned slightly at the sound of Xavier entering the room. A subtle curve of his lips was the only indication of recognition he gave.
"What on earth," he started, biting his lip when Loki gave him a bemused glance. "Where is the wound?" Rolling over, careful not to tread endless legs stretching over his carpet, Charles reached to tug at the unfamiliar civilian clothing soaked with blood. "Can you speak?"
"Charles Xavier," Loki hummed, batting concerned fingers away.
"You'll have to do better than that," he lectured, "What day is it?"
"What do measurements of mortal time mean to a god?"
"Now you're just being difficult," he pointed out, unable to keep an amused smile from dancing across his face. "I'm afraid I can't leave you to bleed out all over my floor." Loki glanced around him, shrugging at the mess. Charles took the opportunity to push his hand beneath the open collar of Loki's shirt. Green eyes seared into him, but he ignored the man's apparent ire. "What in the world did this?"
He raised his eyebrows skeptically, glancing down at the crimson now coating his hand. "The hammer of Thor?" Turning the idea over in his mind, Charles went into the adjacent bathroom to collect towels and hot water. Luckily he had some unopened bandages underneath the cupboard that would do nicely to wrap the wound. If Loki allowed him to do so. The man was looking decidedly mutinous when he returned, fiery eyes skeptical as they swept over the various materials in Charles' lap. "You chose to come here," Charles reminded him brightly. "I fear you'll now have to face the consequences."
"You're irritating, Xavier," he said waspishly, lip curling when the mortal peeled the cloth of his shirt away from the wound. Blood was still winding down his chest. He couldn't heal as quickly; not when Mjölnir was the cause. Thrumming with impatience, he waited as Xavier patted his skin with a warm towel, water mixing with the blood to run pink. Exhaling slowly at the undeniably pleasant sensation of the wet warmth soothing his broken skin, Loki flicked his eyes up to consider Xavier's face. As he did every time he saw him, Loki appreciated the aesthetic quality of the man. He leaned his head back as Xavier carefully dragged the cloth over his throat, wiping down the white column to clean more blood away. His hand darted out and caught the telepath's wrist; thumb tracing the delicate web of his veins. "You think you can save every pathetic creature on this planet."
Chuckling breathily, Charles tugged his hand back to dip the cloth into the shallow bowl of water. "I can guess who you've been talking with."
Smirking coyly, Loki arched into the touch as Xavier moved the renewed cloth over his ribs. "The metal bender doesn't know I've seen you. I don't think he would like it."
Careful not to meet the other man's eyes, Charles asked, "And how do you know that?"
"He rails about you and your doomed idealism," he informed him quietly, frowning when the cloth stilled. "His anger is only so great because he thinks he failed you."
"Failed me," he scoffed, wringing out the moisture. The water dropped silently down into the pink pool, stark against the white enamel. "I think you misunderstand us."
Fingers still caked with dried blood curled against the soft flush of Xavier's cheek. "I think I understand you perfectly."
He was unsettled by the ethereal hue of Loki's gaze. Clearing his throat, Charles flinched away from the touch and set the cloth down. Turning instead to the bandages he spoke without meeting Loki's eyes, "I'm afraid I'll need you to remove your shirt. This will have to cross over your back." Out of the corner of his eye he saw swathes of ivory skin revealed, fine muscles shifting with an almost musical grace. Loki let his shirt drop with a muffled plop to the floor. He was staring at Charles expectantly. Steeling himself, Charles unrolled the gauze, glad that Loki's torso was long enough that leaning forward didn't compromise his seated position. He gasped when Loki curled long fingers around the spoke of a wheel and pulled him forward a few more inches with minimal effort. Now Charles was looking directly into Loki's eyes at a slight angle.
Without breaking contact, Loki leaned forward slightly. Xavier took a shaky breath and draped the bandage across his back to loop around front. He took the end of the cloth and handed it back to the telepath, hyperaware of the pink flush creeping up the mortal's neck. Beneath rosy skin he could see the beat of Xavier's pulse.
Keeping his tone neutral, Charles asked, "Why did you come here, Loki?"
"You take in strays," he answered measuredly.
Somehow Charles knew those weren't Loki's words. "Erik often said as much. But they are not strays; they are family."
His eyes glinted. "Then I am your family too, Xavier? To coddle and nurse from the teat of your endless generosity."
"Delightful," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes slightly at Loki's playful smile. But he caught the wince as the man leaned forward more. Pursing his lips, Charles tied off the bandage and casually mentioned, "I can have Hank – he's got adequate medical knowledge– see to you."
"I have no need for your brats, Xavier," he sighed, bony fingers still wrapped firmly around the spokes of the contraption Xavier used to carry himself. His eyes wandered over the unmoving limbs curiously. "Not adequate medical knowledge for you though." Running his hand up Xavier's thin calf, he smirked when the telepath slapped his hand away in an uncharacteristic display of annoyance.
His crisp English accent minced the words with flair, "I doubt there's a point in telling you that was completely uncalled for."
Sighing, Loki settled back against the bed. Xavier's hands were trembling minutely. Cocking his head to the side Loki reached out to pull the wheelchair even closer, shoe-clad feet bumping his hip. "The people of Asgard would consider you a wonder. You and your-" he hesitated, eyes flashing wickedly, "Chariot."
He tugged at the wheel, dancing closer to anger while Loki's mischievous expression drifted into smug. "Do the people of Asgard also consider mockery a charming personality trait?"
"Get angry," he murmured, this time grasping Charles just below the knee. Eyes flicking upwards he sent a bolt of power into the bone, awakening ligaments and long cold nerve endings. A hazy drizzle of telltale green flare quaked off the mutant's pant leg, and Loki was distracted by the strangled gasp that met his ears. Xavier's hands darted to his leg and clutched it, beautiful blue eyes flying wide with a heady mixture of fear and tremulous hope.
The dangerous intoxicating thrill of anticipation flooded him, dragging through his body and taking his ability to breathe with it. Charles dug his fingers with bruising force into what he'd thought would always be unresponsive flesh. He gritted his teeth, nearly tearing at the cloth covering his skin, the pain wonderful and delicious. A hand curled around his wrist and stilled him, and suddenly Charles was caught in Loki's gaze.
The Trickster. The Prince of Lies.
Flinching back, Charles twisted free of Loki and valiantly attempted to blink away the tears that threatened to fall. "I forgot to mention that we earthlings don't find mockery so charming." Splinters of stinging sensation broke over his skin, as if his leg had fallen asleep and was making slow progress towards normalcy. He was too afraid to try and move it. "Undo this fallacy. Take it back."
"Why in the world would I do that, Xavier?" he asked, laughing cruelly. "I won't mention how ungrateful it is to assume I would expend energy to mock you." Crowding into the man's space, Loki reached forward unabashedly and took hold of Xavier's chin. Soft skin gave beneath his fingers and he quietly observed the shift in the mutant's breathing. It quickened, as did the beating of his fragile mortal heart. Curling his fingers against a smooth cheek, holding blue eyes steady when a fingertip brushed the edge of a plush red mouth. "I can give you your legs, if only for a short time." As if his words were the lashes of a whip, tears thickened in Xavier's eyes, threatening to fall.
"Why?" he husked, swallowing down a suddenly dry throat. He ignored the adamant tingling in his leg and the swell of emotion caused by it. "Forgive me, my friend, if I question your intentions." Wrapping shaking fingers around an ivory forearm, Charles mapped out Loki's expression, trying and failing to read the emotion in his statuesque face. Instead he found the feline gaze dizzying, drawing him in. Breathing was difficult, the beat of his heart roaring in his ears. All that he could see were Loki's eyes, intensely green. The hold on his face was hard, the muscle beneath his grip iron. He opened his mouth to speak when suddenly a terrible jolt rocked his entire frame, like turbulence on a plane, before everything shuddered into darkness.
Grass. Cool, only slightly damp.
Sky. And a bastion of glittering stars hanging over him.
Feeling. In his legs.
Loki was perched on a rock jutting from the grassy hillside, watching Xavier intently. The man had fainted when Loki transported them, leaving no one to protest when he slipped his nimble fingers up the legs of cotton trousers to thread sorcery into the dead sinew of Charles Xavier's lower body. And now, like a newborn foal trying to find its legs, the mutant was trying to sit up, gasping as his limbs moved, sliding over to the grass.
His shoes were gone. The realization was a footnote to the greater understanding that his legs – his legs – had just moved. And not only that, they moved again. Tearing at a black sock, he nearly broke down when the kiss of a cool twilight breeze met the exposed skin. He'd forgotten what it was like. Charles wiggled his toes.
Loki cracked a smile when the telepath laughed, pulling off his other sock to stare down at wriggling toes. He watched the light entering Xavier's face, his features brilliant with indescribable joy. Charles Xavier was a beautiful creature: one that Loki had been drawn to, one that entered his thoughts unbidden. At times it was Xavier's pale, lovely face that followed him into sleep, echoing reflections of the thick waves of brown hair, the solid slope of his shoulders, and the mysterious numbness that lay below his waist. When Loki met Erik Lensherr for the first time, he'd caught the mournful agony of loss that haunted the metal bender's soul, and he'd wanted to know why. Why such a powerful, driven mutant whose purpose so matched his own would falter. And now he was realizing the answer.
Xavier had rolled onto his stomach, pushing up onto functioning knees. He was laughing so hard that he had started to weep, eyes glittering like pools of the stars above. Loki cocked his head, snorting when the man surged to his feet and took a few awkward steps before seeming to regain the stride he'd once boasted. He stood lean, strong. Upon first speaking with Xavier Loki had respected the metal bender's affection for such a pretty, kind thing. But the pure joy on Xavier's face now - as he looked over his shoulder at Loki and laughed and laughed - Loki understood.
There was nothing in the world that could describe it. How felt to be standing. His legs were solid, feet tickled by the long grass. Charles stretched, moaning with the pop of his back. Looking heavenwards he reached and reached, body lengthening, unfolding; he could've been flying for all the elation he felt. Turning, he noticed Loki sitting on a rock. The man was no longer wearing bandages. His trademark armor was gone, replaced now by an impeccably fitted suit vest and slim cotton pants. Behind the pale figure the landscape stretched impossibly far, filled with rolling hills and a silvery expanse of twilight sky. Spinning on his heel, he thrilled at the flex of muscle in his legs. Charles stared out into the evening, a cluster of houses riding the coast of an inlet down below them. Flakes of gold were their warm lit windows, dazzling the eye. He sighed, glancing back when he felt Loki's presence suddenly close. "Loki," he breathed.
No trace of irritation, caution, or weariness. There was even a note of delight in his voice. Loki was unsure if he'd ever heard anyone say his name with such pleasure. "Xavier?"
The tall man flinched when Charles threw his arms around him in a fierce embrace. A sprinkle of tears fell onto the fine fabric covering his shoulder. In the clean air, free from the weight of his armor, Loki's scent was icy and sweet. Charles breathed him in. "Charles," he corrected, "Please, my friend." He drew back, smiling brilliantly. "It's Charles."
An alien curl of possession wound its way around Loki's heart. He allowed a small smile, pressing the back of his hand to the side of Xavier's face. "Charles," he acquiesced, unable to resist a stir as the mutant beamed. "Is standing in one place what you've missed the most? Somehow I doubt it." He remembered when Lensherr had told him about Charles running, Charles swimming, Charles dancing. In this moment he wanted to see it, a greedy lustful streak driving the notion. "Go ahead and do all the foolish things mortals do."
Wrinkling his nose, Charles gripped Loki's hand and dragged him a few feet over the grass. "What are all these foolish things you speak of?" Then he winked and took off, running as fast is his legs would carry him, ultimately stumbling into a miraculous fall; rolling and flailing partway down the hill. His voice rang out as he hooted with laughter, finally shouting up to the heavens as loud as he could until his ears rang.
He opened his eyes, still panting and smiling stupidly, to see Loki looking down at him from right overhead. Peering up into the upside-down expression of amusement, Charles lifted his arm and wrapped them around Loki's slim ankles. The tall man arched an eyebrow and Charles' grin only widened. "Is this a thank you for patching you up? Or maybe my stimulating conversation skills?"
Folding gracefully, Loki knelt down, gently breaking Charles' hold on him. Now a knee rested on either side of the mutant's head, his azure eyes seeming that much brighter at this angle. "Perhaps I'm curious to see you the way he still does."
Pain, shadowed and solid, passed through Charles' countenance. "I wonder," he mused vaguely, rolling slightly until his cheek pressed the inside of Loki's thigh, "If I'll ever forgive him for taking my legs." Shuttering his gaze, he pressed his fingers to the curve of the man's knee. "I love him, Loki."
Green eyes shifted. Thin lips curled, just slightly.
"If I can't hate humans, not even the ones that day in Cuba, then how can I hate him for this accident?" The sorrow in his voice was thick, deep. Old.
Loki watched the tears collect and catch in Charles' lashes.
"I can't enjoy this," he admitted, covering his face. "I-" he was cut off when Loki jerked his head back by his hair, glaring down with quiet fury. Charles gulped, gently moving to splay his fingers along the expensive cloth covering Loki's legs. "Loki," he cautioned, "I'm grateful, but…' The hold on his hair loosened and eventually slipped away. Loki was no longer looking at him. Twisting up onto his hands, Charles reached out to hold the side of the other man's face. His thumb brushed the corners of a pearl-pink lip. "Don't listen to me," he joked self-deprecatingly, "I'm a fool-"
"This I know," Loki moodily interjected.
"Erik... Erik left a mark on me that I don't think will ever fade," he continued carefully. "This gift you've given me – for which I am thankful-" he hastily added, "Is overwhelming. I've been taken back to that place, before… everything." Pushing to his knees, he held Loki's face with both his hands now, searching to meet his gaze. "I was hit by the 'what ifs' all of a sudden, and there are many." Sighing with relief when Loki finally returned his look, Charles chuckled. "I can't imagine you'd want to watch me run around like some toddler who's just found his legs." They were closer than he'd first realized. Loki was smooth and cool beneath his hands; skin a lighter shade of pale. Releasing another strangled laugh, Charles pressed their foreheads together.
He could smell him close, the heat and the faintest trace of sweat. Charles' hair played along Loki's sloping forehead, some tresses long enough to get tangled up in his lashes. Loki blinked rapidly and tried to remember the last time someone had been this close. Maybe his brother, but that was beyond repair now. Looking closely at the tiny blue veins faintly traced over Charles' closed eyelids, Loki thought of Thor. He thought of Erik Lensherr. He thought of himself. He thought of Charles and his thoughts lingered there.
Biting his lip, Charles tensed when he felt Loki's hand sliding down his sides to rest on his waist. He turned his head to exhale slowly, his heart pressing the confines of his ribs when he felt the barest shock of electricity as Loki's lips touched his eyelashes.
"What other foolish things," Loki murmured, grip tightening as Charles whimpered. "Do mortals do?"
"We seize the moment," he breathed against the man's lips, eyes half-lidded as if he were drugged. Drawing his nails down Loki's throat, Charles flicked his eyes up just in time to see the flare of arousal ignite in Loki's heated gaze. "Loki?"
"Charles Xavier," he parried remotely, staring at Charles' mouth.
"Don't think me weak."
That took him completely by surprise, enough that his lips parted in bafflement. Peering closely at the mutant, Loki chuckled, "A fool. Not weak, you misunderstood."
"I know what Erik must say about me, and what you must think," he persisted. "All this about strays and my… good lord, what did you say? 'Teat of your endless generosity'?" He snorted. "And this is just pity, isn't it?" Holding out his arms, Charles smiled sadly. "You both, you gorgeous men who come into my life and…" The grass had grown warm under his legs. He pushed off Loki's hands to roll away, laughing bitterly. "I'm not…" he grasped for the word, "A damsel. I'm not. My chair is not my tower; there is no golden hair to climb." He made it to his feet, his back to Loki. "You both just... You both hate me, do you know that? My ideals, my beliefs. They are who I am, and I know you think me weak for having them. Loki-" He turned to find the man gone. Spinning around, Charles realized with a horrible sinking feeling that he was alone.
Jogging over to the boulder Loki had been sitting on earlier, Charles leapt up on it and looked around.
The bark of laughter he uttered was choked. "Well, here's something else you both have in common," he crowed loudly. When nothing followed his outburst, Charles wiped his eyes. "Abandoning me," he whispered to no one.
"That sounds like something a damsel in distress would say," Loki drawled. Charles whirled around, nearly toppling over as he lost his footing on the rock. Catching the telepath easily, Loki looked down to see more tears. "You don't trust me," he accused gently, setting the mutant on his feet.
"Where did you go?" He blinked. "Wait, what do you mean?" It may be true, but Loki really hadn't done anything to earn his trust, had he?
Huffing despondently, Loki drew a long, thin chain from his breast pocket. On the end was a golden five-point Celtic star surrounded by a circular frame of vine-like curls. It dangled between them, glinting with an inner light. Loki watched Charles, who eventually held out his hand to still its swing. Upon contact the light shifted into a warmer glow. Letting it fall into Charles' palm, Loki told him, "This is Brísingamen."
Squinting at it, Charles muttered, "From Beowulf..."
"It was worn by the goddess Freyja, and kept by my... by Odin." He took it gingerly back from Charles and undid the clasp. "It's yours now."
"Loki," he sputtered, instinctively leaning forward as the other man dropped the loop of fine gold over his head. The necklace felt heavy and solid for a moment then seemed to fade against him like a second skin. Clasping it tightly in his hand, he breathed, "Loki-" Laughing suddenly, he placed his hand on the man's chest and looked sincerely into his eyes. "Did you steal this?"
Sniffing mulishly, he plucked the charm out of the mutant's hands and tugged, drawing Charles closer. "I gifted it, to you."
"In lieu of a slayed dragon's head, prince?" Charles teased softly. When Loki wrapped the necklace around his palm to yank him forward he stumbled against taller man. His hands were splayed across Loki's chest and he bit his lip as a long arm caught him across the small of his back. It could have just been his imagination, but the spot where the bullet entered his body pinched.
Tipping Charles' chin up, Loki leaned in to breathe a kiss against his lips. Fingers clenched in the fabric of his vest, a gasp stuttering between them as Charles surged up onto his toes and threw an arm around Loki's neck.
Shifting his head and pushing forward with a wicked swipe of his tongue, Charles moaned as Loki answered with fervor, strong arms crushing Charles flush to him. He could feel the angled lines of the man's body fitted wonderfully along his, and Charles shoved his leg between Loki's thighs, moving one hand up into soft black hair to twist and pull. A low growl echoed between them and Loki bodily lifted Charles from the ground, yanking one leg up to hitch around his waist. Charles felt the stretch and moaned, suddenly grabbing Loki's ass and jerking him forward to press even closer. He could feel Loki's arousal through his thin pants. Charles broke the kiss, panting against Loki's glistening wet lips. A long tongue swiped over them and Charles whimpered.
"This between us is no spell," Loki mentioned as he bit along Charles' jawline, rutting shallowly against the mutant.
"I never assumed-" he gasped, cutting off a strangled sound when Loki grabbed him roughly between the legs. "I know what I feel, Loki. Oh, oh!" He nearly sobbed, falling limp in Loki's arms as the man reached past his waistline to touch his naked flesh. Never, he thought he'd never feel that again... Charles bit roughly down on Loki's shoulder as he hooked one leg behind Charles knee and dropped him. They tumbled into the grass, Loki's feline eyes almost entirely black; irises just thin green circlets. "Solar eclipse," Charles muttered nonsensically, panting in anticipation, mewling under Loki's heated gaze. Nimble fingers opened his pants and pulled them down his legs. He hissed at the sharp friction.
With his power he bled the rest of their clothing away, amused when Charles chirped like a bird, astonished by his sudden nakedness. But the amusement was drowned out quickly and all became very quiet. Loki found himself transfixed. Charles was very pale in the growing moonlight, his blue eyes ethereal and stoked with an emotion that Loki felt as real as a caress. His lips were bruised and dark, reddened to a sinful shade. Charles drew a shaking hand through chestnut brown waves and Loki watched them fall right back over his forehead. Cupping Charles' face, he took his mouth again, coaxing it open to push inside with a slow curling tongue. They moved leisurely, lips meshing again and again as they both fought to breathe between intoxicating kisses.
Loki drew his hands down his body and Charles arched into the touch, eyes hooded and drunk with lust. He spread his legs, watching Loki's gaze slide down over him with a blatant appreciation. The flush of arousal deepened and Charles bit his lips, sitting up. Loki glanced up and their gaze held. A tiny tinkling of metal rang softly as the necklace slid back down to settle against his breastbone.
There was a time not so long ago that Loki would have ripped into Charles and taken him like an animal. There was a time he would have wanted to corrupt such a beautiful face and wreck his body. He could feel that violent lust beating deep inside. His cock stood high against his belly, leaking and aching with the sweetly tortuous pull of arousal. But stronger than all of it, softening the edge that sung in his veins, was an alien feeling that sparked into a whole new level of intensity when Charles moved forward on his knees to kiss and suck at Loki's chest, clever tongue laving over his sensitive nipples, catching him by surprise.
Loki's startled chuckle was warm over his ears. It changed quickly into a gasping growl when Charles bit down and tugged gently, and long fingers were back in his hair. He smiled impishly as the man forced his head back, baring his throat.
"You'd like to think yourself in control, Charles?" he husked against plush lips before capturing them in a searing kiss that he felt down to marrow of his bones. Heaving against the mutant, he suckled Charles' tongue and he rubbed their erections together. One hand trailed teasingly down the mutant's gracefully curved back, hesitating over the patch of twisted skin at the base of his spine.
He flinched, breaking their kiss with a small sound, barely a breath. He'd seen it, just a flash. But it was like cold water dashed all over him. Bright white spot of pain... Erik's face.
Dropping his eyes, Charles furrowed his brow. Loki took his hands away and drew all the warmth back with him. A sob caught in Charles throat and he looked skyward, the pain a potent memory clouding his eyes with moisture. "When the clock strikes midnight," he murmured, "The horses will turn back to mice."
Narrowing his eyes, Loki grabbed Charles' hand as it attempted to rip through his hair. The lust, which had thickened the air bare moments ago, wilted. Charles wouldn't look at him. Loki felt a wave of frustration, and the dark possessive lust spiked. "Xavier," he growled.
"And you, a pumpkin," he laughed, a hysterical edge riding the outburst. "The glass slipper doesn't fit me after all." Trying to pull away, Charles looked up at Loki with a tear-streaked face. When the man didn't let go, he scowled and pulled harder, pushing at his chest with his other hand. "Let me go."
"Have you gone mad?" Beneath the confusion and frustration there was a strong note of concern. Had his magic somehow affected Charles' mind? Almost as an afterthought he wove a cloth covering for Charles, smooth transparent fabric that the mutant collected gratefully around his shoulders. "What is it?"
"Does he realize how he left me?" he demanded suddenly, the small ache in his spine gone again. But the memory remained. "You, Loki, tell me. Does Erik know?"
No, he didn't. And Loki would never tell him about Charles.
When he first stalked the mansion it was because he was curious about this Charles Xavier. The one who kept Lensherr up at night and would boil his blood more than mention of any other. Loki had been heartlessly amused by the state of Lensherr's dear rival when he found out the man was bound to a chair. At first he'd thought to take pleasure in breaking the news. But then he'd met Charles, spoken to him. His curiosity had then been piqued in an entirely different way. He'd wanted more time alone with Charles. To study him, to learn. At least that was what Loki told himself. The attraction and lustful intrigue he felt upon meeting the telepath was just an aside to the greater story – but that had been a lie.
"Loki," he beseeched.
"Lensherr doesn't want to know," he snapped. "You're a fool, Xavier." He tried not to see Charles wince. Lensherr knew Charles was alive, and as long as he didn't interfere with the Brotherhood then he refused to hear any more. The others kept wisely silent, and so had Loki once he'd realized what type of person Charles Xavier was. "He doesn't deserve you," he said quietly, averting his eyes when Charles' head snapped up. A warm palm slid along his cheek and Loki allowed it to lift his face. Charles' eyes were windows of sorrow.
"He must be afraid," he said, to no one in particular. Loki slapped his hand away.
"He's selfish," he spat, clothing flowing back over his body. The vague emptiness in his belly at the loss of their contact was viciously quashed. But the cornered, angry fear taking its place could not be stopped. A flash of golden hair, an irresistible smile. His chest ached with ghost pain. He watched Charles' pained expression and he thought of his father.
When would someone finally choose him?
"When will I be good enough?" he said blankly.
"Is that what I am to you?" Charles asked abruptly, face impassive. "Is this some competition for you, Loki? My body is some gambling chip between you and Erik?"
Eyes glittering dangerously, Loki's hand shot forward to grip Charles' throat.
"Well, this is déjà vu," he rasped sarcastically. "You do love exerting dominance, don't you?"
He dropped him, teeth bared aggressively. "And you do love your mind games, telepath. Even I was fooled." He curled his fingers over Charles cheek, pausing to roughly drag his thumb across a plush lower lip. It slipped against slick teeth and he sneered, "Would you rather I deliver you into his bed? You want him back so badly, despite his betrayal." His voice shifted into something cold and light. Charles was watching him guardedly. "These enchanting eyes-" his gaze dropped heatedly "-this treacherous mouth." The cloth he'd given him disappeared in a whispered hush of green light and Charles stubbornly didn't cover himself as Loki smoothed his hard hands down over his pale chest. "This body..." he trailed off. "You could enslave a man," he whispered bitterly, "With this body."
"You don't know this body," Charles murmured carefully, breath hitching when Loki's fingers ghosted over his flaccid cock. "Besides, this isn't my body after all. You know very well my body is broken."
"Lensherr broke it," Loki pointed out, lips pursing as Charles' eyes darkened. He swallowed an apology like a bitter pill and instead gruffly blurted, "And you-"
When the man didn't continue Charles' curiosity won out and he shifted slightly closer. "Loki?"
Now it was Loki who withdrew, scandalized by the words that had been about to leap from his tongue. Charles' hand fell like a brand across his shoulder and he flinched. Then he felt a small mental prod and snarled, severing it hard enough that Charles' winced.
But Loki had been too slow. Charles had seen into him. He pressed into Loki's space, finally catching his eyes. Holding him there, Charles waited. Then he felt it, the sleek coil of Loki's mind unwind enough that the unfinished words slipped through.
And you broke me.
Charles closed his eyes and let the wash of emotions rush over him. He felt the confusion, pain, lust, and care that surrounded his name in Loki's mind. He saw the fragility of Loki, though that was something quickly hidden away. The magnitude of Loki's want, of Loki's need swept powerfully through him. The tangle of emotions went unnamed, unrefined. He noticed offhandedly that where Loki's mind was chaos, Erik's mind was militaristic structure. Loki was shadows and jagged edges. Erik was a constantly shifting labyrinth.
They were kissing before either could comprehend it. The rawness between them burned with renewed vigor and Loki didn't hold back as he slammed Charles onto the ground, clawing at him with desperation. He shoved his tongue to the back of Charles throat, pinning him. Charles legs spread around him and they both cried into other's mouths when their cocks were crushed together. The awakening lust was fast and almost painful. Charles scratched grooves down his back, legs squeezing his waist.
It was dizzying to be taken by Loki's mind, and to be pushing back with his own. The intimacy, the connection rose steeply, overwhelming. Crashing through his system. Charles shoved, seizing Loki by surprise. He rolled them both until he straddled Loki's slim waist. Staring down at the other man with a heaving chest, Charles coyly leaned in and licked a hot trail up his chest, humming appreciatively when Loki hesitantly let his head fall back to bare his throat.
"You are not that to me," Loki puffed, his clothes fading off his body with a spell. They both uttered strangled noises when his naked cock slid along the cleft of Charles' ass. "Not a prize-" Charles had his mouth again, kissing him slow and dirty. Loki rolled his hips, only to snap them forward and push Charles along his body.
The telepath laughed and lifted himself, staring cheekily down into dense green eyes as he whispered, "Do you have a spell for this?" The head of Loki's cock bumped his entrance and slid. Cocking his head, he scratched over Loki's nipples while the man smirked up at him. One long finger curled between the Loki's lips and Charles could hear the ancient words spinning magic. Shining and wet with something more than saliva. His heartbeat picked up speed, pupils blown wide when Loki reached behind him and gently drew a warm circle around his entrance. Impatient, Charles bucked back, jaw falling lax when the digit slipped inside. "Loki," he hissed, feeling the slick spread as if by – he chuckled knowingly. Magic. Loki's curious abilities knew no bounds. He buried his face in the crook of Loki's neck and shoulder, breathing deep. Fighting the emotions rising, Charles focused on the pleasure, and not the reminder that he thought he'd never feel this again... Be in the moment, he told himself. As if he could hear the thought, Loki twisted now two fingers and Charles yelped. The press was slippery and hot. He pushed back into the stretch, marveling at the fullness. And it wasn't even his cock, not yet. He flushed with the thought, rocking his hips to rub his erection into Loki's abdomen. His knuckles were white as he gripped the grass on either side of Loki's head. Cracking his eyes open Charles found Loki's closed, his lips parted in a satisfied smirk. The pale stretch of his skin was kissed by the barest blush of pink. His brows were knit with concentration and his hair lay wild in the grass. Exquisite.
"Glad you hold that opinion," Loki murmured, amused by Charles' look of guilty surprise. He scissored his fingers before slipping in a third and Charles lost any grace in his expression, falling into a wanton display. The mutant groaned and rutted against Loki, reaching back to spread himself wider with one hand. Loki gladly accepted the invitation and pushed in one last digit, opening the frame of his fingers until Charles was shuddering above him, eyes glassy and unfocused. Of all those he'd bedded, Loki couldn't recall any of them. Not when Charles was looking down at him like a creature possessed, his tongue hungrily lapping at his sensual red mouth, lewd noises leaking out of him at every flex of Loki's fingers. His smirk widened. If Charles had thought this position would win him control he'd been sorely mistaken. Loki was never out of control. He took hold of his cock and slicked it with the lubrication. Charles arched up high onto his knees, twisted around to guide Loki in. The clench of heat was near painful. Loki hissed through gritted teeth, gripping Charles hips tightly before he bucked up.
"Loki," Charles cried out, held upright only by the other man's hold on him. One hand was fisting himself, thumbing his slit as Loki sunk deeper and deeper inside of him. With his other hand he pulled one ass cheek wide, pumping his hips to ease the way. It took a dizzying eternity to work the entire thing inside. "S-stop," he stuttered, clenching. "My friend, give me just a moment." Angling himself, Charles held perfectly still, allowing his body time to become accustomed to Loki's girth. He was filled to the brim, entire body wracked with tremors while Loki pulsed inside of him. From above Charles could see every sinewy muscle outlined in Loki's torso, a lean hidden strength pronounced as the man's body was drawn taught with contained energy. Green eyes were fire, scorching Charles' body, his hands of iron gripping Charles' slender waist. And his cock... Charles grinned.
When the telepath started to move Loki found that he couldn't breathe. This siren was drawing out his breath, stealing it away while his inner walls held Loki like a vice. Pleasure radiated from every point of contact, shining along flexing thighs, nestled beneath the weight of Charles' erection, and brightest at the juncture of their union. And when Charles lifted himself, Loki groaned, eager to thrust as Charles fell back with a vicious slap of skin. He repeated the move, rolling his hips with a feverish look in his brilliant eyes. The moonlight lit the sheen of sweat over his body, and suddenly it looked as if he were covered in frost. Loki grunted and lifted his knees, digging the heels of his feet into the ground. Charles cried out beautifully as Loki heaved upwards, claiming the mutant with his cock. Fingers dug flowering bruises into his skin, and Loki fucked Charles in earnest, meeting him thrust for thrust in a synchronized dance of wanton abandon.
Bouncing jarringly up and down, Charles bit back screams every time Loki pistoned into his body. His legs felt gloriously worn, muscles recalling this long-forgotten rhythm. He delighted in the burn, in the pain, in the white-hot pleasure shooting up his entire spine. Struggling to find his voice, Charles twisted one of Loki's nipples and delighted in the gasping cry it conjured.
"The difference," Charles panted, "between control and compromise-ahn!" He stiffened when the head of Loki's cock jabbed his prostate.
"The difference?" Loki goaded breathily, throwing his head back into the grass with a pained expression when Charles clenched round him in retribution.
He nodded jarringly, falling forward to grind his hips in a frantic circular motion, crooked smile rising at the choked noises forced out of Loki. "Yes," he confirmed, moaning when Loki lifted him abruptly just to yank him back down to be impaled impossibly deep. "Is the – dammit - pleasure," he finally finished, taking hold of his cock and pumping it in time with Loki's thrusts.
"This... is pleasurable," Loki conceded with a rough chuckle. "You should see yourself, Charles." He projected the image of Charles riding his cock, glowing in the moonlight, unrestrained and wild.
When the image washed over him, and h felt the effect it had on Loki, Charles became even hotter, each breath ending in a high-pitched whimper. They moved even harder against each other, Charles crying out each time Loki slammed into him. "I'm close," he said through clenched teeth, "Ah – ah –ah – Loki, please. Please!" His hand was a blur moving over his cock, each tendon of his neck standing out vividly as he felt his orgasm coming. It hit him hard, exploding outward in a razor edge of wet heat. Cum splattered across Loki's chest, catching on his chin. Charles was sobbing, squeezing his cock. He relaxed, but Loki's thrusts became violent, his hands tearing Charles over his cock as he sought release.
He sat up, ruthlessly grinding the angle and fucking Charles nearly into unconsciousness. While he bounced the telepath on his cock he licked the cum from bitten red lips. Holding the taste on his tongue, he crushed their mouths together, fucking that red mouth just as his cock claimed Charles body. With an animalistic groan, echoed by a ragged sob from Charles, Loki spilled into him, throwing Charles down before he pulled out and spurted the last of his pleasure across the telepath's beautiful body. Crouching over him, Loki panted, finally dropping a hand on each side of Charles' chest. The mutant was prone; hands tossed loosely over his head, eyes weary. Loki took his time to follow the trails of cum, pupils dilating when Charles swiped some up with his finger right before he sucked it noisily into his mouth. Watching the mutant's lips, Loki felt himself stir and imagined them stretched over his cock. Charles wound his tongue around the digit, understanding the passionate gaze. With his other hand he rubbed over his body, spreading the wetness down to his spent cock and playing with it. Loki choked. Hungrily he pulled Charles to him and devoured his mouth, licking deep inside to taste all of him, their flavors mixing hotly.
But the moment was cruelly cut when they both had to jerk back. Charles stared upwards, Loki's eyes narrowing as he brought back their clothing, wiping away the evidence of their tryst with a few words.
Charles spared a glance down at himself to see the same clothes he'd arrived in. He'd have to ask Loki where they went. That train off thought derailed and he staggered, feeling incredibly cold. Loki hands were there, steadying him. But Charles didn't even feel it. He couldn't breathe.
There was silence for a moment. A shift in the air. A presence.
He reacted as if physically struck. That voice was a knife that cut into him again and again. Charles could barely bring himself to turn around, greeted cruelly by the dead space shaped by that damned helmet.
"Erik," he acknowledged quietly, and felt Loki's hand tighten on his wrist.
To clarify: Loki's spell on Charles' legs is temporary. Not even he can heal a wound like that. And no, Erik has no idea Charles was left paralyzed after Cuba. Once he'd found out Charles was alive he refused to hear anything more (out of fear he'd be driven back).
Story of Brísingamen: