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sareyen · 4 years

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Let Me Whisper In Your Mind, Darling (Part 1/2)

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Sequel to [Let Me Whisper In Your Ear, Darling]: Charles is an audio porn star, Erik is a fan, they fall in love

Part 1

‘Charles just told me that you’re thinking about ditching my little gathering in favour of spending some quality time with him,’ Emma smirked into Erik’s mind, her cool telepathic touch amused. ‘I would usually force you to stay, but Sugar, I’d never stand in the way of you getting some, especially from Charles. Rumour has it that his mouth is the 8th wonder of the world.’

Erik shot Emma a glare, before turning back to Charles – who was ProfessorXXX, mein Gott. Erik was still trying to wrap his head around it, the voice that has been whispering in his ear swirling into a confusing mess with the seemingly angelic-looking Brit wearing a crisp white shirt. Charles looked entirely too… good. He did not look like the type of man that begged Erik to tie him up, to choke him with his cock, to fuck his mouth.

Erik’s mind lingered on these thoughts for a moment, and he would have grown embarrassed since the telepath had likely overheard them if the man’s obscenely red lips hadn’t quirked up at the risqué thoughts, his cheeks turning a little pinker. Charles gave Erik a sweet and slightly devilish smile before turning to Raven to quickly press a kiss to the back of her hand.

“I’m afraid I have to leave now, Raven,” Charles said to his sister, who narrowed her eyes at him, as if she were trying to be the telepath amongst the siblings. Erik wasn’t sure if they were conversing telepathically, but Raven then turned her natural yellow eyes to Erik, lingering there for a moment, before turning back to her brother. Then, understanding seemed to dawn on her, the girl bursting out into hysterics.

“Oh my God, you can’t be serious!” Raven cackled, doubling over and slapping her knee like a middle-aged man, almost wheezing. “That was him? That guy was Erik? Erik’s the guy who-”

Erik looked at Raven with confusion, and she must have felt her gaze on him because she only burst into another peal of hysterical laughter, now pointing a shaking finger at Erik’s confused and slightly annoyed face.

“What, Raven?” Erik grumbled, the girl only snorting between something that sounded like a laugh and a hiccup, tears coming to her yellow eyes as she tried to contain her laughter.

“Do calm down, Raven,” Charles sighed, cheeks red. His eyes narrowed a little, and Erik was sure he was saying something to Raven telepathically, the girl just rubbing away her tears and smiling, shoulders shaking a little with the remnants of her laughter. Charles turned to Erik to touch the inside of his wrist, nodding his head towards the exit. “Shall we?”

The little touch on his wrist made Erik forget about the amused expressions Raven and Emma were giving him, and he found his thinner lips curving up into a smile, nodding. Erik flicked his wrist, opening the door with his powers. Charles’s eyes widened a fraction, before a wide and mesmerised smile spread across his face.

“Amazing,” Charles murmured as he wheeled through the open door. Erik preened at the genuinely intrigued glance Charles gave him, and twisted his wrist with a little more flourish, closing the door behind them again. Now, Charles let out a gleeful laugh, further impressed. “Simply amazing! You’ll have to tell me about what other things you can do with your power – metallokinesis, was it? I’m sure you can do far more than just open and close doors.”

A ripple of excitement ran its way up Erik’s spine at ProfessorXXX’s – Charles’s – voice. Hearing his voice now was both the same and different – the lilt of his posh English accent was the same, as was the timbre and tone. But, it was completely different than anything he had heard before. It sounded more real, but it was no less attractive than it was when Charles was whispering obscenities into his ear. If anything, hearing it in such a mundane setting was even more attractive to Erik.

‘Gott, I need to calm down.’

Trying not to sound like a fool already tripping over himself in his feelings, Erik fell back onto a slightly more suggestive route – far more familiar territory.

“I can show you all the other things I can do,” Erik said in response, smirking a little when Charles’s grin only seemed to widen, a little gleam to his eye.

“I look forward to it, my friend,” Charles mused as the two of them made their way down the street. “Considering we’ve just skipped out on brunch, how about getting a little something to eat? I’d like to get to know you more, Erik.”

“Sure. I know a little cafe that serves great coffee and food about two blocks from here,” Erik said, knowing that the café was wheelchair-accessible and spacious, before pausing. “Is that too far for you to…”

Charles waved away Erik’s concern before he could continue, biceps flexing as he effortlessly wheeled himself down the footpath. Erik gulped as he watched the man’s shirt stretch around the nicely sculpted muscles, wetting his lips.

‘Gott, all of those Idioten in the comments who said that Charles was ugly would probably have a stroke if they knew how attractive ProfessorXXX really was,’ Erik thought to himself, grinning a little at the idea that they would probably never know – but Erik knew. If Erik had his way, he would be the only person who knew that ProfessorXXX had brown hair that looked impossibly floppy and soft, blue eyes dipped in the colours of the ocean and plush lips seemingly made of red satin.

“Thank you, my friend,” Charles said suddenly, eyes alight as he smiled up at Erik revealing a row of pearly whites. “Your view of me is very flattering, but you are a rare sort of man. Most people, unfortunately, see the chair and not much else.”

Realising that Charles had picked up on Erik’s errant thoughts, Erik scrambled to try and think of something to say to persuade Charles that there was more in his brain than just lustful thoughts, Charles laughing softly, eyes looking down. He likely saw the flash of panic crossing Erik’s face, the warm finger-like touch brushing Erik’s mind disappearing quickly.

“Sorry, Erik. I don’t make it a habit to actively read people’s thoughts. I do try to block everything out, but strong surface thoughts, especially ones directed at me, are harder to block out. And your mind is, well, particularly vibrant. But I won’t peek if you don’t want me to,” Charles said, almost apologetically. His words seemed to rehearsed and practised that Erik realised he must have had to say this to so many people in the past.

While mutants with visible mutations usually garnered reactions of disgust from mutantphobic humans, psionics were regarded with fear, even amongst their fellow mutants. Erik, admittedly, used to be one of those people who were wary about telepaths getting into his head, but after befriending Emma he had realised that he was just perpetuating the vicious cycle of hate towards telepaths, who were mutants too. Erik would be terribly hypocritical if he harped on about mutant rights while shunning psionics for the same reasons humans hated mutants – fear and distrust.

“No, that’s not- I mean-” Erik started, before groaning and running his fingers through his hair. “You shouldn’t have to apologise for your power,” Erik finally settled on, Charles’s dark eyebrows going up, surprised.

Erik was spurred on to continue, voice picking up its usual gritty fire, taking on the tone he used when verbally addressing (or assaulting, Emma sometimes said) mutantphobic pricks who had the balls to spew their vitriol within Erik’s earshot.

“You should never have to be forced to suppress yourself just because other people are uncomfortable. Your power is a part of you, asking you to bury would be the same as asking a baseline to chop off their own hand just because it has the potential to touch you,” Erik growled, gesticulating wildly with his hands. “And it’s the same as some mutant powers too. Emma once equated her telepathy to how I sense all the metal around me – cutting it off is horrible, like losing your eyesight. It’s disorienting.”

Erik let out a disgusted grunt at the end of his spiel, before realising that Charles hadn’t replied. In fact, the man had stopped wheeling himself beside Erik, and sat a stride or two behind Erik on the footpath. Erik swallowed thickly, his momentary surge in anger dissipating into one of quiet apprehension. Erik’s tendency to get overly worked up about the small things had never gone well with previous partners – or just people in general. Erik tentatively glanced at Charles from the corner of his eye, only to find that the man was staring at him with his mouth slightly parted and head tilted to the side, eyes impossibly deep and looking at Erik like he was a marvel.

After a moment of slightly awkward silence, Charles spoke, wheeling to catch up to Erik.

“Oh, thank you for saying that, my friend,” Charles said, a softer smile tugging on his lips. Erik’s stomach flipped at the warm sensation that smile poured over him, not unlike the sunlight-steeped warmth of Charles’s mental touch. “It really does mean a lot to hear you say that. Again, you prove that you aren’t like other men. But, my words still stand – I won’t poke around inside your head, unless you give me your explicit permission. It’s lovely that you are alright with my powers, but they can still be invasive, more so than your metal-sense.”

Erik was about to say something again, but Charles just laughed, tapping the skin on the inside of his wrist when they neared the door of the café Erik had mentioned. Erik watched as Charles expertly manoeuvred himself into the café after Erik opened the door with his abilities, earning another delighted laugh from the telepath. Erik thought it was endearing the way Charles seemed so intrigued by something that was so commonplace for him.

‘Just you wait until you can see what else I can do with my powers,’ Erik thought to himself, smiling.

***

‘Good God, Erik is… amazing,’ Charles groaned in his head as he watched Erik lean with his elbow on their small table nestled in the corner of the café. They had been sitting there for almost two hours, their food and coffee (or tea, in Charles’s case) long gone.

Charles had momentarily been worried that they wouldn’t be able to talk as comfortably as they did as ProfessorXXX and magneto22 – because Christ, Charles was still half in disbelief that this was reality. That magneto22, whom he had fallen for, had turned out to be Erik – Raven’s definition of ‘Charles Xavier’s Type’. It was too good to be true, and Charles was just waiting for the hidden cameras to jump out.

But, they had settled into conversation easily, as if this wasn’t their first time meeting face to face. They talked (and argued) about many things; politics, mutant reforms, college and work, but had now slipped back in to conversation about their mutations, focusing mainly on Erik’s because Charles did not hide his fascination with the man’s powers. Metallokinesis was rare in itself, but the way Erik wielded it with such joy and control made Charles swoon in his chair.

Charles clapped a little as he watched Erik hover his spoon over his palm, and through Charles’s superficial telepathic brush against Erik’s mind, he could feel the addictive buzz radiating off it when Erik moulded the metal into a smooth sphere, then into a rotating double helix, before manipulating it back into its original shape and letting it rest back on his plate.

“Your control is amazing,” Charles said, Erik grinning at the praise, not shy in the slightest. Charles knew that Erik prided himself in his mutation, as he should – he had true mastery over it.

“I’ve had a lot of practise,” Erik replied easily, before licking his lips. Charles’s eyes followed the movement, and Erik picked up on it, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. Erik looked down at his plate, suddenly a little hesitant, before turning back to Charles with his hypnotic grey eyes. Though Charles was the telepath between the two, he couldn’t deny that Erik’s eyes – that Erik himself – had a hold over Charles.

The man was unfairly attractive, and the slightly grainy photo Raven had showed him on her phone all those weeks ago didn’t do the man justice. He was all sharp angles and lean muscle, and the camera had not captured the passion that always seemed to be thrumming beneath the surface of his skin, or the gleam in his eye that seemed to reach into the very depths of Charles’s soul.

“I still, uh, can’t believe that you’re…” Erik said, vaguely gesturing at the man sitting opposite him, and Charles didn’t need his telepathy to know what Erik was referencing. Letting out a little laugh, Charles’s cheeks grew rosy.

“Believe me, I’m also still processing the fact that you’re magneto22. A rather apt name, now that I know who you are,” Charles said, Erik letting out a short, amused laugh. “I hope you’re not… disappointed? I’m not really the person I am in my… you know. I mean, it’s not all an act, but I know you were probably expecting someone else. I suppose the illusion of my voice has been broken, now.”

“No!” Erik said quickly, eyebrows bunching together. “I’m not disappointed. I’m definitely not disappointed.” Charles had to force himself not to wriggle as Erik’s eyes appraised him slowly, from the crest of his hair down to where his muscled torso disappeared behind the café table. Charles could pick up on the dulled sense of attraction/giddiness/relief that radiated from Erik’s mind, and Charles smiled. “And if anything, you’re not… uncomfortable, are you?”

Charles tilted his head to the side in confusion at Erik’s question. Erik swallowed again, a little nervous and looking back at his plate again. The spoon on it seemed to vibrate a little, before Erik sighed and flicked his eyes back up to meet Charles’s, determined.

“I mean, I… Ugh, fuck. I’m just going to be honest here. We both know that I listened – listen – to your… porn,” Erik said bluntly, Charles almost choking a little. “I know you wanted to meet, but… you’re really not… weirded out by that?”

Charles almost laughed at how Erik genuinely looked worried that Charles thought that he was the weird one out of the two of them. Charles knew that the way they met was unconventional, but he had pushed that away the moment he finally met magneto22 in the flesh. He no longer saw magneto22 as a faceless person – he just saw Erik. Erik, whom he was already half in-love with.

“No, I find it more flattering, than anything,” Charles assured Erik, who relaxed a bit more in his seat, mouth beginning to curve back up in a smile now. Feeling a little bold, Charles leaned forward in his chair, cradling his chin in the palm of his hand. “But as a dedicated listener of mine, ah, maybe you could give me some feedback?”

Charles’s heart thumped when Erik’s breath hitched, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips.

“Feedback?” Erik echoed, voice a little rough.

“Yes,” Charles purred, reaching out to softly rest his hand atop Erik’s on the table, thumb running along the edge of his hand. “Which audio was your favourite? Which one…” Charles dropped his voice now, adopting that tone, one well-practised from making so many audio porn clips that it was almost second nature. “Which one did you listen to the most when you touched yourself?”

“Oh, Gott,” Erik blurted out, eyes going wide as he seemed to lurch in his chair. Charles bit his lip as he watched Erik curse and cross his legs tightly, long legs bumping against the table, plates clattering. Erik glared at Charles a little at his forwardness, but Charles could tell that it wasn’t because he disliked it.

In fact, Erik seemed to enjoy it.

‘That’s not fair,’ Charles heard Erik push into his mind, and the telepath shivered at Erik’s uncoerced projection.

‘Oh, darling,’ Charles responded mentally, ‘I’m merely a professional. I’m always trying to improve my craft. And since you are here… I’d like to collect some… empirical data, if you know what I mean.’

A strong pulse of desire/shock/affection drifted across the tether binding Erik and Charles’s minds now, Erik’s eyes darkening with lust.

“I’ll get the check,” Erik gritted out, Charles laughing, anticipation swelling in his belly.

“Erik, we’ll go dutch. I’d hope that this is a relationship where we are both ready to… give? Though I do not mind receiving in the slightest.” Charles still hadn’t dropped the flirtatious tone in his voice, but it came naturally when someone like Erik was looking at him like he was contemplating just screwing the check and bending Charles over the table, plates and cutlery be damned.

“Gott,” Erik said again, shifting his legs to cross his legs the other way, glaring at Charles again. “Fine. I’m paying for the cab, though.”

‘Because damn if I’m going to wait for a fucking train now,’ Erik supplied afterwards, Charles giggling with glee.

‘I won’t say no to that, darling.’

***

They went to Charles’s apartment. Even though the café was right between both of their places, they knew that Raven would be stuck at Emma’s party for a long time while Erik’s roommate was probably hanging around his place. Also, Charles’s apartment was more accessible, and even though Erik was beginning to grow impatient, he still had enough of a mind to think about such things.

The two men sat in the back of a taxi now, Erik’s fingers tapping rapidly on his crossed knee while he tried to calm himself down by running his powers over the metal of the car. Charles was sitting far more poised in the seat beside him, his illegally red mouth seemingly stuck in its knowing grin.

Oh, Erik was sure that Charles knew exactly what he was doing to him. Charles had been right – he was a professional, a professional at being able to arouse Erik with nothing more than his words and his wit. It was one thing listening to a recording of Charles’s voice, still somewhat removed from reality. Now that the owner of the voice was speaking those things directly to Erik, and directly into his mind, well. Erik didn’t have a chance.

As he was thinking (loudly), Erik felt a warmth spreading across the back of his hand where it rested on the fabric seat between him and Charles. Erik looked down, Charles’s hand creeping closer and closer, calloused fingers drifting across his hand to rest on Erik’s thigh, which tensed under his touch. Charles continued to look straight ahead, though his hand came up to cover the grin growing on his face.

Charles’s hand stroked up and down his thigh languidly, squeezing every now and then, making Erik’s cock twitch. Charles was going to be the death of him, Erik knew it, and he welcomed it. Erik’s hand, which rested on his other thigh, drew itself into a tight fist.

‘We’re almost there, darling,’ Charles cooed in his mind when they turned a corner, now glancing sideways to look at Erik. ‘And don’t worry, you’re not the only impatient one. I’ve been wanting to put my mouth on your cock the moment you recognised my voice. I assure you, my mouth can do more than just articulate a pretty voice.”

Suddenly, Erik’s mind flashed with the image of Erik kneeling over Charles, whose red mouth was open and spread over Erik’s hard cock.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Erik choked out, covering his face with his hand. Erik unfurled his fist, reaching out with his powers to urge the taxi to go faster, Charles bursting out with a turned-on laugh while the taxi driver squeaked in confusion.

Erik was half-hard by the time the taxi pulled up to Charles’s apartment complex. It was a simple red-brick building with a poorly trimmed front lawn and peeling paint, not looking any more opulent than Erik’s own dingy apartment, but Erik didn’t care. In fact, he preferred that – it made Charles more relatable, somehow. The more he found out about Charles, the more he solidified the fact that ProfessorXXX was a real person, and not just some glorified voice that pulled orgasms from Erik with a single syllable.

Charles hummed in appreciation when Erik popped open the boot with his powers and levitated Charles’s chair to him. Erik, in turn, appreciated how Charles slid himself into the chair and swung his legs into position, arms flexing. Erik all but shoved a wad of cash into the taxi driver’s hand, tipping him a bit too much but thinking about nothing more than bringing the image Charles had teased him with into reality.

The two men were silent as they headed into Charles’s apartment, the air thick and electric between them. The spark had already been lit when they left the café, but it had fermented and built in the taxi ride over, and the moment Charles and Erik had passed the threshold of Charles’s apartment, Erik pounced on the man.

Charles moaned when Erik sealed his mouth over his, leaning over Charles with his knee resting on his chair between his unmoving legs. One of Charles’s hands immediately fisted itself in Erik’s short hair while the other gripped onto the fabric of Erik’s shirt, tugging the man closer. Erik had to brace himself with one hand on the chair’s armrest, the other against the backrest, almost smothering the smaller man in his arms.

Even that didn’t seem close enough for Charles, who arched up into Erik’s touch, slanting their lips together to deepen the kiss which was furious and messy, a clash of slick tongues, teeth and moans.

They only pulled back to breathe, both of their chests heaving. Charles’s pupils were wide and dark, naturally coloured lips now even redder, kiss-bruised and glossy. The freckles on the telepath’s cheeks blended into the flushed redness there, and Erik moved his hand from the chair’s backrest to cup Charles’s cheek, the touch tender in contrast to their hard and frenzied kiss.

Erik’s thumb brushed across the freckles, then down to the corner of Charles’s lips. The man smirked a little, turning his head slightly and parting his mouth, letting Erik push his finger between his lips and into the wet heat.

Erik groaned when Charles’s mouth wrapped around his digit, tongue flattening against the pad of his thumb, showing Erik that yes, that mouth can do much more than whisper filthy things in Erik’s ear.

‘I’d really like to suck your cock now, darling,’ Charles pushed mentally at the same time as he moaned around Erik’s thumb. Erik’s cock was definitely hard now, straining against his pants uncomfortably.

“Fuck, Charles,” Erik breathed out, Charles pulling his lips from Erik’s thumb with a smile that was far too pretty for someone who had just said that he wanted to suck Erik’s dick.

Charles just chuckled breathily, craning his neck up to meet Erik for another sloppy, wet kiss, which Erik obliged. Charles’s hands slid down his waist, brushing over Erik’s harness, making Erik groan into their kiss.

“In my audio, I’d be talking about how hard you are for me right about now. Knowing how you listen to my voice to get yourself off, I think you’d like to hear me talk to you about how much I want to taste your dripping cock,” Charles murmured against Erik’s mouth, Erik’s breath catching as his eyes closed, Charles’s voice echoing around him. Though Charles’s voice was steady, his hands were fumbling at Erik’s button and zipper, his desperation to get his hands and mouth on Erik’s cock clear.

Erik helped Charles out, using his powers to undo his button and tug down his zip, knowing that it would turn Charles on. It did, Charles shuddering and licking his lips, peering up at Erik like he had hung the moon instead of simply undoing his fly.

Charles then tugged down Erik’s pants, letting out an impressed “Mm,” as he laid his eyes on Erik’s hardness tenting in his briefs; the white fabric was damp around Erik’s leaking head, turning a little transparent.

“You’re already so hard for me, and I haven’t properly touched you yet,” Charles breathed, mouth hovering over Erik’s straining bulge. Erik sucked in a breath, Charles’s hands reaching around his legs to rest on the curve of his ass, squeezing and pulling his crotch forwards. “You know, one thing I’m grateful for with this chair is that it’s the perfect height for me to get my mouth on your cock.”

With that, Charles pressed his open mouth against Erik’s clothed erection, Erik swallowing down a long moan. Charles mouthed at his cock, the fabric of Erik’s briefs becoming wetter and wetter. Charles wasn’t as restrained with his moans, not holding back the drawn-out mewl as his lips moved against Erik’s clothed cock.

“I can taste you through your briefs,” Charles breathed against his erection, inhaling deeply through his nose and humming at the heady scent. “Darling, I want to taste more of you. Pull down your pants and briefs, fully.”

Erik’s cock twitched at the order, quickly shimmying down his pants and briefs, the fabric pooling around his ankles. Erik’s cock now hung free from its confines, jutting out hard and stiff towards Charles’s mouth, that smiled hungrily.

Charles gripped the base of Erik’s cock, squeezing as he looked up at Erik through his dark lashes, blue eyes drawing Erik in. The metallokinetic gasped as Charles stroked him up and down once, thumb brushing over his leaking slit and spreading his pre-cum down his shaft. Erik’s cock was big, and Charles said as much, voice reverent.

“I knew your cock would be perfect, darling,” Charles chuckled as he stroked again, coaxing another bead of pre-cum to bead at Erik’s cut head.

“Charles, stop teasing,” Erik grumbled, trying to push as much frustration into his voice, but only managing to sound desperate.

“I’m not teasing, darling,” Charles sang, breath fanning across Erik’s cock. “I’m just appreciating your cock. It really is quite beautiful. But if you insist…”

Charles licked a stripe up the underside of Erik’s cock, and once his tongue reached Erik’s head, he wrapped his lips around it.

“Oh, shit,” Erik groaned, Charles’s mouth wet and warm. Charles hummed around his cock, tongue flattening against his underside before curling around his length, drawing him further and further into his mouth.

‘You taste delicious, Erik,’ Charles moaned into Erik’s mind, and Erik almost came there and then. It was really unfair, really, really unfair; Charles’s voice was Erik’s weakness, they both knew it, and the fact that Charles could use his telepathy to feed his voice into Erik’s mind while his mouth was busy sucking him off was just too much.

‘He’s perfect, he’s perfect, mein Gott,’ Erik’s mind chanted as he gasped when Charles’s cheeks hollowed, before he pulled back, beginning to bob his head up and down Erik’s length.

‘You’re so big, Erik. The biggest, most delicious cock I’ve ever tasted. Perfect,’ Charles praised, bobbing his head forwards and taking in more and more of Erik. Charles moaned as his hands on Erik’s ass tightened, closed eyes squeezing shut even tighter as he felt Erik’s head brush against his throat. Charles choked a little, and Erik’s eyes widened, hand immediately flying to Charles’s hair as he began to pull out of Charles’s mouth.

‘Don’t you dare,’ Charles said warningly, squeezing Erik’s ass again, shoving his head back down on Erik’s cock and whimpering around it. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard my blow job audios, darling. I may not have had a real cock in my mouth then, but I never lied. I want to choke on your cock, I want you to fuck my face, pull my hair, make me gag. I want all of it,” Charles said, almost pleading. ‘Please, Erik. Give it all to me.’

Give everything to me.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re just-” Erik cursed, not as eloquent as Charles, his words lost as all the blood rushed from his head and down to his cock. Erik’s hand tightened in Charles’s floppy hair, the man humming in appreciation.

‘Yes, yes, yes,’ Charles moaned into Erik’s mind when Erik began to move his hips, tentatively thrusting into Charles’s mouth. ‘More, Erik. More.’

With Charles’s devilish voice spurring him on, Erik gritted his teeth and began thrusting into his mouth in earnest, earning a moan from Charles, which in turn wrenched a curse from Erik’s mouth.

“Your voice, Charles. Your voice and your fucking mouth,” Erik growled, Charles opening his eyes, which were a little glossy as he swallowed Erik down enthusiastically. Charles looked up at Erik, and their lustful blueness coupled with the visual of Charles sucking him down made Erik’s ball tighten. “Fuck, Charles, I’m gonna-”

‘Come in my mouth,’ Charles ordered, his mental voice strained with arousal. ‘Like I said, I want you to give me everything. I want to choke on your hard cock as you come, taste you on my tongue, suck out every last drop of your cum and not waste a bit.’

“Oh, fuck,” Erik pushed out between his teeth as he came hard with a choked grunt, Charles’s words pulling him over the edge like they always did. Erik’s mind blanked out as he came, body tensing as he felt himself release, still fucking Charles’s face with jerky, undone movements as he spilled himself down Charles’s throat.

Charles, the unbelievable, perfect man, swallowed everything and continued to lap at Erik’s cock as it began to soften, making Erik moan at the over-sensitive feeling. Charles eventually pulled his reddened and bruised mouth from Erik’s cock, licking at the head to make sure he didn’t miss anything, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Mm, thank you for that,” Charles drawled while licking his lips, voice a little rough after having been wrecked by Erik’s solid fucking. That quality to his voice was something he hadn’t been able to fake fully in his audios, and the raw sound made Erik groan, leaning down to capture Charles’s mouth with his. He could taste the salty and bitter flavour of his cum on Charles’s tongue, and the taste of him mixing with Charles was the most erotic thing he had experienced in his life.

“I need to take care of you,” Erik mumbled against Charles’s mouth, the man chuckling slightly, pulling back to cup Erik’s face, his smile almost a little wistful.

“I’m fine, darling,” Charles said gently, pressing a short and soft kiss against Erik’s mouth, which turned down a little.

‘Oh no, no, no, did Charles not enjoy that? He was the one doing all the things I like, oh Gott, he doesn’t think that I only want him to get me off, does he? Is this because I like his porn? Because Charles is more than that, so much more and-”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s not you, darling. Definitely not you, you’re amazing,” Charles interrupted, kissing Erik again, before pulling back. “Come and sit down on the couch, I should probably talk to you first… I probably should have talked to you about this before I got my mouth on your cock, but I was a little desperate, not sure if you could tell.” Charles had an amused grin on his mouth now, and Erik relaxed, just a little.

Erik didn’t know what he would do if Charles wanted to stop this… thing they had, because even though this thing was so new it was barely a something, to Erik it had the potential to become everything.

After quickly tucking himself back into his pants, Erik followed Charles as he wheeled himself across the small open living room towards a slightly ugly orange couch. It was only now that Erik really took in his surroundings, previously too occupied by the thought of Charles blowing him to think about anything else.

Charles’s apartment was small and a little cluttered, with just enough floor space for him to move around in his chair. There was a threadbare but well-loved blanket draped over the back of the couch alongside and a few mismatched pillows. A dark wood vintage coffee table sat in front of it over a soft print rug that clashed with the orange couch. There was no TV in the room, the space usually reserved for one housing a packed bookshelf, its shelves curving downwards slightly with the sheer weight of the books on it. There were a few more stacks of books around it on the floor nestled amongst some potted plants and a curved metal floor lap that Erik ran his powers across.

The living room was connected directly to the kitchen, which had been fitted with low counters, the dining table also made lower to be accessible for Charles. It was a small but cosy apartment, and though things were mismatched, it was obvious that everything inside it was treasured. It also smelled like Charles, a mixture of paper and books, but also with a hint of spice and sunlight.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess. Raven and I tend to let things go around exam time…” Charles apologised, and Erik shook his head, planting himself on the span of couch Charles patted with his hand. Charles himself then smoothly transferred himself to the couch beside Erik, before turning to him.

“Charles?” Erik asked, growing a little more nervous when Charles bit his lip, like he was trying to find the words.

“Sorry,” Charles said quickly, patting Erik’s knee. “It’s not often that I have to explain this, since most people usually see the chair and then want nothing more to do with me.” Charles’s voice was bleak as he spoke, and Erik’s lips pulled back in a sour snarl.

“Well, those people didn’t deserve your time in the first place,” Erik huffed out, anger flaring at the idea that people could look at Charles and have that sort of reaction, hurting him. Charles’s hand on his knee squeezed it thankfully, eyes crinkling in the corners when he smiled adoringly at Erik.

“God, you’re amazing,” Charles sighed happily, leaning forward to kiss Erik again, aiming for a short peck but couldn’t help but give in to the way Erik coaxed his mouth open, dragging his arm around the smaller man to draw him in closer. They kissed for a short while, until Charles drew back with a wiggle of his dark brow. “And you’re distracting.”

“That doesn’t sound like a complaint to me,” Erik replied, earning a chuckle and the shake of Charles’s hair, the man shuffling closer towards Erik to lean into his side, Erik’s arms finding their rightful place around his shoulders.

“Not at all, but it isn’t conducive to meaningful conversation,” Charles said with a smile, before continuing. “As I was saying, I never really have to talk about this often, so bear with me.” Erik nodded, rubbing his hand up and down Charles’s bicep, the man melting into his embrace.

‘Distracting,’ Charles chimed in Erik’s mind, rolling his eyes teasingly.

Verbally, Charles sucked in a breath before speaking. “I’m sure Raven or Emma have told you about my condition, or at least enough for you to know that I don’t have use of my legs.”

“Mhmm, they mentioned it, briefly. I just know that you had a car accident a few years ago,” Erik said, Charles nodding.

“Yes. The accident left me… broken. But hey, you should’ve seen the other guy. And by the other guy, I mean the Mercedes van,” Charles said, attempting to joke, earning a small snort from Erik. “Anyway, to put things simply, the accident didn’t only affect my legs, but also my…” Charles sighed, gesturing to his crotch.

“Oh,” Erik said, blinking as he stared at Charles’s cock hidden beneath his pants, before realising that he was staring and forced himself to look back up into Charles’s eyes. “Can you feel anything there at all? Can you…” Charles shrugged.

“I can feel sensations, but they’re muted, so to get any real stimulation things need to be more intense,” Charles explained, looking at Erik tentatively to gauge his reaction. When Erik only nodded while looking thoughtful, not judging him in the slightest but just listening intently, Charles loosened up and continued. “And I can get an erection, but it’s harder – no pun intended – and not as predictable. Sometimes it can last for a while, other times I can’t get it any more than half-hard. But, medication can help.”

“Even if you don’t get hard, can you still feel things?” Erik asked, Charles laughing softly, pressing his cheek to Erik’s shoulder.

“If you’re asking if I can still have an orgasm without an erection or ejaculating, then yes, I can,” Charles said, Erik’s mouth quirking up.

“Then I believe I owe you one orgasm,” Erik said, leaning forward to nudge his nose with Charles’s, grey-blue eyes heated. Charles let out a bubbling laugh, letting Erik push him back against the couch to hover over him, his laughter only stopping when Erik smothered him in a kiss.

‘It’s going to be harder than what you’re accustomed to, darling. You’ll have to do much more than sweet-talk me to get me off,” Charles teased, Erik snorting, nostrils flaring.

“I enjoy a good challenge,” Erik replied after detaching his mouth from Charles’s to suck and nibble on his earlobe, eliciting a delicious gasp from the man beneath him. Erik smirked as he worked his mouth down to work at Charles’s neck, then down and down and down until he reached Charles’s soft cock, looking up to meet blue eyes that looked at him with something much more than just lust.

Erik was sure he was looking back the exact same way as Charles reached down to knot his hands with Erik’s, squeezing.

‘You are really something else, Erik Lehnsherr.’

***

Charles found out that afternoon that yes, Erik really did enjoy a challenge. Charles also found out that Erik’s mouth was extremely talented, and though he didn’t talk as much during sex as Charles did, that did not mean he didn’t know how to use his mouth. Erik’s mouth, tongue and jaw had worked tirelessly and passionately, not disheartened in the slightest as they lavished Charles’s soft cock with so much attention. Any other man would have come twice and then some with how good Erik’s touch was.

It had taken longer than normal, but Charles was already more aroused in Erik’s presence than he had ever been alone, and he almost cried out in joy when his cock began to come to life, swelling under Erik’s rough palm that twisted and rubbed up and down Charles’s length.

Charles wasn’t as big as Erik, but he was thick and uncut, Charles moaning loudly when he caught Erik’s runaway thoughts of ‘Gott, Charles is so beautiful, so hot, so perfect, I want this to be good for him, I want to make him feel good’. Erik was a focused and determined man as he sucked Charles down, the man’s cock hardening slowly in Erik’s mouth.

“You’re doing so good, darling, it feels so good,” Charles mumbled, letting his head drop back on the couch, eyes closing as he focused on the dulled sensations lower down on his body, hands idly reaching under his rumpled shirt to twist and rub his sensitive nipples. Since Charles’s lower body had minimal sensation, his upper body had become much more responsive, and Erik moaned around Charles’s length when he saw Charles’s hands disappear beneath his shirt.

Charles’s pants were just pulled down enough to expose his cock, the telepath still a little hesitant to reveal his thin and atrophied legs to Erik. Erik had ensured him that he didn’t mind, and his mind screamed that he thought Charles was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen, but Charles had years of a broken self-esteem to overcome.

Charles thought that, maybe with Erik – understanding, straightforward and accepting Erik – that he could begin to overcome all of those barriers. Charles knew that it was still too early to really know, that even though he felt a connection, they still barely knew each other.

But he knew enough about Erik to begin to dream.

Erik was so patient, often asking Charles what felt good, where he was getting the most sensation, if he needed to grip him harder or suck tighter, and Charles began to understand his fans – hearing Erik talk about what he was doing and asking him about what he wanted him to do was turning him on in itself.

Erik followed Charles’s instructions to the letter, stroking Charles’s cock with more force than usual, his altered nerves meaning that Erik needed to have a heavier hand for Charles to feel something. And he did, God, Charles felt so much.

Even so, part way through, Charles’s erection waned and Charles was about to apologise, but was cut off when Erik just continued to lick at his head and knead his balls. Erik didn’t stop, he didn’t comment on it, his mind just focused on the thought of ‘want to make Charles moan, want to hear that voice, want to know how he really sounds when he’s about to come’.

It had taken a while, much longer than it had taken Erik to come from Charles’s own mouth, but Erik did manage to make Charles come. Even though he wasn’t hard, and even if he hadn’t spilled anything into Erik’s eager mouth, Charles had come.

And he came hard.

Charles was always loud, but he had never been like this. Erik’s expert hands had reached in deep and drawn out the most mind-shattering orgasm Charles had ever had in his life; his mind blanked out with white static, and he was sure he was shaking as the orgasm washed over him. He had dug the fingers of one hand into the back of the couch, the other above his head and clawing at the armrest. He had screamed Erik’s name, a broken, desperate sound, one that Erik drank up like he would have with his throat if Charles had ejaculated into his mouth.

Charles had lay boneless as Erik tenderly tucked him back into his pants, doing them back up with his powers and crawling on all fours to lay himself on top of Charles. He kissed Charles slowly, Charles still shaking and crying with the force of his orgasm, wobbly arms looping around Erik’s neck to hold him tightly.

“Where have you been hiding this whole time?” Charles eventually whispered, slowly climbing down from his post-coital daze. Erik barked out a laugh, burying his face in Charles’s shoulder, breathing him in. There was the smell of sex lingering in the air, thick and heady in the small confines of the apartment.

“In my room, jerking off to your voice,” Erik murmured against the man’s skin, Charles laughing. “The real thing is much, much better though.”

“I’m glad,” Charles said honestly, running his fingers through Erik’s hair as they just lay there, blissed out and content.

They only removed themselves from each other a long time after when they heard the front door open, revealing Raven with her hands over her eyes.

“Are you decent?” Raven called out as she morphed into her loungewear, still covering her eyes as Charles and Erik rolled their eyes, sitting on the couch beside each other in a non-compromising position. Erik just had his arm draped over Charles’s shoulder and the telepath rested his hand on Erik’s knee.

“Yes, we’re decent, Raven,” Charles sighed, his sister asking the question again, to make sure, not wanting her eyes to be burned with the scarring image of her brother and friend playing whack-a-mole with their dicks.

Raven ended up dropping her hand, only to dramatically gag at the sight of the two men snuggled up on the couch.

“God, I never thought I’d see you look like this, Erik,” Raven said, Erik narrowing his eyes and flipping her off discreetly.

“You were the one trying to set us up in the first place, Raven,” Charles reminded her, the girl snorting.

“Yeah, I was, but I never thought that you two would be so gross so soon,” Raven said, before her blue mouth curved upwards, amusement flickering in her eyes. “But, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, not when Erik had the hots for you after listening to your porn.” Saying the words out loud seemed to amuse Raven to no end, beginning to dissolves into hysterics, reminiscent of how she was at Emma’s party.

Erik’s eyes widened, staring at Raven, a little mortified.

‘How does she know that I-’

‘I apologise, Erik,’ Charles sent telepathically, turning to the man with a slight frown. ‘I had told her that I was actually planning on meeting you – well, magneto22 – and that I wasn’t interested in you – as in Erik – anymore… but considering I ditched Emma’s brunch with you, Raven put two and two together,’ Charles said silently, squeezing Erik’s knee. ‘I’m sorry…’

Erik was silent for a moment, before he started to grin, showing too many teeth in a way that Charles found ridiculously attractive.

‘You were going to give me up for magneto22? What, was I not good-looking enough for you?’ Erik responded, face scrunching up as he pretended to be miffed, Charles giggling.

‘What can I say? Magneto22 was very charming,’ Charles said, hand beginning to stroke up Erik’s thigh. ‘And no, you know full well how attractive I think you are, but that’s really just a bonus.’

‘Charmer,’ Erik shot back, leaning down to kiss Charles, Raven groaning.

“You’re flirting telepathically right now, aren’t you? God, you two are going to be the worst,” Raven whined, covering her eyes again as she rushed towards her bedroom. “I only came here to pick up some things because I’m going to stay at Angel’s. I don’t want to be here if you two are going to hump on the couch all night.”

“Not sure that Charles has it in him to go again just yet,” Erik called out, Charles squeaking as Raven screeched in her room, yelling something like “I need brain bleach, images, images!”

“Do you really need to traumatise my sister?” Charles asked, Erik just grinning widely.

“I don’t need to,” Erik said, waiting for Raven to pop back out of her room to snog Charles messily just to rile her up. Raven screamed again as Erik snickered, pushing his thoughts to Charles, who just sighed against his lips. ‘But it is fun.’

Next part (2/2) →

#cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #xmen #xmen fic #x-men #smut #modern au #audioporn #raven darkholme #emma frost #professor x #magneto

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thats-rough-sifu-hotman · 4 years

Text

abandoned: atla x reader (angst + a little fluff)

she woke up face first on the ground. everything hurt. her arms, her legs, but especially the back of her head. the group had split up to evade an attack, and somehow she was the only one who ended up alone.

she tried to get up, but when she attempted to open her eyes, they stayed shut. she was confused and felt around her face until she realized that her eyes were open. her eyesight was completely gone! her head injury! her attacker must have damaged her occipital lobe. this was not good. the only person who could heal her was long gone by now. she was stranded in an unknown place, alone, without her sight.

“what would toph do?” she thought to herself, but it was no use. toph has been blind for nearly thirteen years now, she gets around almost as well as someone with perfect eyesight.

she tried to stand up. bad move. her legs gave out as soon as she put any weight on them. she hugged her knees close to her chest and began to cry. she hated being alone. just the idea of it terrified her. she had been alone for years, and she was miserable. when the avatar and his friends had taken her in, she finally felt like she had a purpose in this world, like there were people out there who wanted to look out for her and care for her, but now they were gone and she didn’t know how to find them.

she was around nine years old when it happened. her village was attacked by the fire nation. houses were being burnt, people were being slaughtered, and she had to watch it all happen. she would have been no help anyway, just a dumb child who couldn’t bend or fight. unable to forget the traumatic events that occurred, her parents telling her to run, their screams of agony as they died, and their burnt bodies when she came back to see if anyone had survived. they hadn’t. no one had. she was the only survivor of her entire village. she didn’t know where any other towns were because she had never left. so, she stayed. She tried to rebuild, and farm, and do whatever she could to make it look like it used to, but almost all of the buildings were completely burnt into scattered ashes.

the horrible memories plagued her mind, and hurt her heart. she whimpered at the thought of never seeing her friends again, and the thought of never seeing again! she couldn’t believe it, they promised! they promised she would never be alone, and while she knew they never intended for her to be by herself, she still felt betrayed by them. she cried until she felt like there was no water left in her body. she sobbed and thrashed around like she was crazy, because being alone again made her feel crazy.

suddenly, she heard branches snapping. someone was coming. she didn’t even try to move, she just quieted her sobs. she listened as the footsteps got closer, and closer.

“guys, i found her! she’s over here!” katara called out, while running toward you. “y/n, are you okay?” she asked softly while kneeling down beside her. she could hear more footsteps gather around her. “you left me! you all did! you never cared about me! you promised me that i would never be alone.” y/n cried out hysterically, thrashing around in katara’s grip. the pain in the back of her head hadn’t subsided at all, and the fact that she had been alone for who knows how long didn’t help her calm down easily.

her friends all looked at each other with tears in their eyes. in y/n’s fragile state, she thought that they had left her on purpose. they knew once they got her to calm down and start thinking straight, that she would know that they weren’t to blame for this, but for now, she concluded that they didn’t care about her. in y/n’s mind, they wanted her gone.

“how did this happen?” aang asked after a while. he waited for her to start to think clearly before he said anything. he was very concerned, he had never seen her in this state. “i was attacked from behind, whoever chased me out here hit the back of my head, and now... now i can’t see.” y/n answered, finally starting to calm down a bit. “here, let me take a look at your head.” katara gently turned her around to see the back of her head.

there was dry blood on the rear of her head, on the roots of her hair, and on the grass beneath her. katara lightly put her hand on the area, causing y/n to shriek and grab the nearest thing which happened to be sokka. she squeezed his arm as hard as she could to deal with her pain, which in turn caused sokka to grit his teeth, take a deep breath, and squeeze his eyes shut.

“well, i have good news, i can heal your injuries, but i’m not exactly sure if your sight will be restored.” katara shared, with a frown on her face, not that y/n could see it anyway. “so, there’s a good chance that i will never see ever again?” “i can’t be sure, there’s also a good chance that you will be able to get your sight back.” katara smiled down at y/n, which went unseen by her.

“here, let’s get her up.” toph suggested. y/n started to shake her head and protest but the others didn’t seem to notice, that or they just ignored her hardly coherent mumbling. sokka and zuko had hooked an arm underneath each of hers to help support her, but the pain in her ankle caused her to let out a piercing cry. “my leg!” she whimpered out, “i don’t think i can walk on it.” one of the boys picked her up bridal style and started walking with the rest of the group. (from the body heat alone, she could tell it was zuko.) once they all reached appa, zuko helped her onto the saddle and then he sat next to her to make sure she didn’t fall off.

everyone noticed the silence while they were in the sky, usually y/n would be singing or telling jokes or doing something to entertain everyone on appa’s back; however, this time she was completely mute. sometimes someone else would try to say something to change the mood, but she would just stare solemnly in front of her quietly. now she understood why toph hated flying so much. without any sight, it’s terrifying! she clung to the saddle tightly the whole way back to camp.

as soon as they were back on solid ground katara wanted to get a good healing session in before y/n fell asleep. she obliged even though she was exhausted. katara had an easy time healing her sprained ankle, so now she could walk with only a little bit of pain. katara worked on her head for a while, and eventually most of her pain had subsided, but there was still a dull ache. her sight had started to come back a little bit. everything just looked extremely blurry, but at least now she could see a tiny bit.

katara had to help guide her to the campfire for dinner time, she sat her down on a log beside aang, who was very happy to see her in better shape than earlier. katara then went on to start making soup, her waterbending made the process go way faster.

y/n sat silently, while watching the blurry orange glow of the fire dance in the wind. all of a sudden, aang starts to speak to her, “we were all really worried about you. i’m glad you’re okay.” he admitted, and even though she couldn’t see his sad smile, she could hear it.

she hated crying in front of the others, but the way they all treated her made tears trickle out of her eyes. she had the best friends in the entire nations, always caring, gentle, and kind, cause they knew that that is exactly what she needed. all those years of being alone sparked self hatred and depression, but in just the few months that she has been traveling with her friends, that wrong thinking has started to dissipate. how could she blame them for being separated?! it’s not like they asked for the fire nation to attack them!

she turned to aang and gave him a teary smile, one that was apologetic and fragile. he understood her look. she didn’t need to apologize to any of her friends, they knew she didn’t mean it. she didn’t actually blame them for being seperated. sokka, toph, and zuko noticed her expression from across the fire. they all gave each other a look and made their way over to y/n and aang.

“guys, i’m-“ “you don’t have to say anything, y/n. we know.” zuko said with a small smile that she could barely make out with her vision still impaired. her friends pulled her into a big embrace. katara quickly ran from her spot by the pot of soup to join the group hug. group hugs don’t happen often unless katara initiates it, and she sure as ice wasn’t going to miss out.

the end.

Author’s Note: I know that no one is probably going to read this or like it, but I felt inspired with an idea that I don’t think anyone has done before, so I wrote it :) My inspiration was that one scene in IT (2017) when Stanley gets separated from the group and yeah, emotions ;( but I also put a little spin on it. Also the whole story is in lowercase because I wanted to try it out, if you don’t like it lmk so I don’t do it again lol and the story is in 3rd person point of view, if you don’t like that, lmk as well. Anyways, if you like this story, let me know and tell me if you want me to keep writing for atla <3

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kestrellavellan · 5 years

Text

Time Past - Chapter 48

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: NSFW, torture aftermath, suicide mention, rape mention

Weekly updates going forward until the story is finished. Find this fic in its entirety on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423880/chapters/25595154

Kestrel jerked awake, sitting straight up, hand clasped around his own throat protectively to ward off wolf fangs. It did nothing to restrain the strangled cry that escaped. Heart pounding, breath heavy, his eyes darted around his surroundings, wide with fright.

It only took a moment for Kestrel to recognize the room that caged him in. He was back in his cushiony prison in the Pavus manor. Long shadows shifted along the floor and walls, seeped in the night’s darkness.

He glanced at the window but nothing blocked the filtered moonlight through the opaque glass. Where were the shapes coming from? A chill ran down his spine when one shadow branched off and sprouted defined, taloned fingers. Kestrel watched in horror as the hand stretched wide before snapping into a fist.

Too terrified to scream, he scrambled to the far corner of the bed, up against the wall, and yanked the blanket over his head. He cowered like a child haunted by nightmares, straining to hear over his own panicked panting loud in his ears.

A soft, repetitive tapping echoed through the quiet room.

Kestrel held his breath.

Several moments passed before the sound repeated, louder this time. Closer. Like nails cascading on wood.

Kestrel shrunk as much as he could into the bed, back plastered against the wall.

His breath came in quick, hysterical bursts, and his heart threatened to leap from his throat, pulse erratic in his neck.

Something was in the room with him.

Heavy talons thudded on the floor next to the bed, closer still, louder still, before slowly digging in and dragging, clawing, scraping at the wood.

His heart pounded on the walls of his chest, the noise rivaling his shaky, loud gasps. Please go away. Leave me alone, Kestrel wanted to scream but his voice was buried under his terror.

And then as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Silence. No more scratching, no more tapping, just blessed silence.

Kestrel sagged against the wall in relief. Whatever it was decided to pass him by.

As the blanket started to slip from the top of his head, there was a sudden pressure next to him on the bed. A low, threatening growl pressed against his ear, warm, only the blanket separating Kestrel from whatever beast sat on the other side. Warm, fetid breath bled through the thin barrier.

He froze. This was it. This would be his death, massacred in the Pavus countryside manor by some stray monster. With a shuddering breath, he released his terror and closed his eyes, ready for what was to come.

“Master Kestrel?”

The blanket was pulled away and light flooded everything. Kestrel blinked against the sudden brightness and confusion.

Once his eyesight acclimated, Kestrel’s watery eyes met the curious blue gaze of Dalish.

“Are you okay?” he asked, brow furrowed in concern.

Sunlight poured through the window, illuminating every corner. A quick look around the room confirmed there were no monsters in waiting. In fact, the pink and yellow striped wallpaper looked especially cheery in the warm light. No beasts of evil lurking here.

“Master Kestrel?”

The worry in Dalish’s voice pulled Kestrel’s attention back to the boy perched a foot away, even as he struggled to respond. “I...I’m okay.”

Dalish’s relief was tangible. A huge grin broke out on his face as he said, “After everything Master put you through, I wasn’t sure you’d find your way back. No one has before. Maybe it was because he interrupted…” He trailed off in thought.

Kestrel used the silence to grasp at vague memories floating along his thoughts, frowning at how difficult such a simple task was.

“You seem lost, Master Kestrel.”

“...what happened?” There were so many hazy memories, he wasn’t sure what was real. Corypheus, Harrier, Dorian, Solas? It was all a jumbled mess. Was he clawed? Whipped? Raped? Throat ripped out? So many terrors and they all seemed so real.

“You were forced to take red lyrium and tortur-”

That wasn’t what was important. “Dorian. Was Dorian there?” he asked, interrupting.

“Magister Pavus? Yes...he arrived and was tortured too after making a deal with Mistress Aquinea.” Noticing Kestrel paling, he quickly continued, “But he’s okay now! I saw to his healing and then won’t be any major scars from the whipping.”

A memory of Dorian surfaced, smiling at him while his blood sprayed through the air. He’d wished Dorian’s agreement with his mother didn’t follow right after. Kestrel groaned. “Two months, right?”

Dalish nodded his head. “But he said he will figure out a way to get you out of here, Master Kestrel. He doesn’t want you to worry. He will come up with a new plan to free you.”

A plan? Wait, that sounded familiar. Didn’t he have a plan of his own...? His memory was still a haze, likely from the lyrium, like pulling a stuck boot from a pond of mud.

“He loves you very much. I can tell,” Dalish said with a soft smile.

Give up the one person I love most to protect the one person I love most. His conversation with Solas came rushing back to him. But maybe that wasn’t necessary if Dorian had something else in the works? No, he couldn’t depend on Dorian’s plan. Look where that’d gotten them last time. Dorian had been beaten and forced into a deal he felt he couldn’t refuse. What would they hold over him if another failed rescue attempt happened? Dorian might not survive another attempt, and if he lost Dorian...

He needed to be the one to save both of them, even if it meant they’d never see each other again. That meant getting a plan started.

“Dalish, what happens to the slaves when they die here?”

Dalish averted his gaze with a frown. “Why are you asking that?” he muttered. Kestrel reached out and took the boy’s hand. The skin to skin contact sent an unpleasant chill up his arm, but he persisted. Dalish was harmless. “It’s important. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Toying with the hem of his shirt, Dalish said softly, “Their bodies are taken to the edge of the woods. By the pond. There’s a...a pit there. The guards carry the body to the pit, and I burn them.”

“How many guards help you?”

“Usually only one or two.”

This plan just might work. Kestrel crushed the hope fluttering in his chest before it could grow, focusing on his next question. “Are you always the one who cremates their bodies?”

Dalish glanced at him, tears in his eyes. “I don’t like these questions, Master Kestrel.”

“I…” He’d shifted into Inquisitor mode without even realizing it. Grimacing, Kestrel apologized, “I’m sorry, Dalish. I know it must’ve been tough for you to do that each time.”

The apology seemed to evaporate Dalish’s unshed tears. He forced out a small, sad smile. “If I didn’t do it, no one else would. And I...I made them a graveyard, you know. Once their bodies are burned, I collect their remains and bury them. So there’s something of them that’s left. No one should be forgotten. Even a slave.”

Kestrel scooped Dalish into an immediate hug. What a horrible task to do, and yet Dalish did it without complaint. How could someone remain so kind-hearted after all the trauma he’d experienced? He’d failed that test himself, becoming bitter and angry after everything he’d been forced through. Maybe that was a child’s resilience in play.

Dalish squeaked in surprise but settled against him readily enough, tucking his head under Kestrel’s chin.

“Leave with me, Dalish,” Kestrel said. “I’ll have a way to escape soon, and I want you to come with me.”

“The protector…” Dalish whispered.

Mishearing, Kestrel said, “Of course I’ll protect you.”

Dalish snuggled close and said into his chest, “I made a promise to you, Mast-” He stopped himself short. “...Kestrel. I’ll runaway with you, so long as you stay my protector.”

He hadn’t done a good job of protecting Dorian. He wasn’t sure he even deserved to be viewed as a protector anymore, but Dalish needed him, and he would never abandon a person in need.

“I promise,” he breathed into Dalish’s blonde hair, holding him close.

They remained like that for a while, enjoying the shelter and peace they offered to each other, even if only temporarily.

****************

Kestrel’s daily schedule proceeded normally as if he hadn’t been tortured within an inch of his life and had his mind warped by red lyrium. The demon returned to milk him each morning. Kestrel no longer fought the process and lost himself to the demon’s ministrations. At least the creature humored him and assumed Dorian’s visage. They both understood the sessions went easier when “Dorian” was present.

Dalish collected blood every several days in smaller doses, shipped off for whatever nefarious purposes it was used for. Kestrel didn’t care about that either. He spent day after day locked in his room, visitors limited to only those two - Dalish and the demon. Even Morven stayed away.

His nights were spent sleepless, hiding from the shadows that plagued him into the early morning before he passed out from exhaustion.

Time crept by.

Almost a week later, a loud knock on his locked door interrupted the boring monotony of his day.

“Kes?”

He’d recognize that voice anywhere. “Dorian!” he cried as he ran over to the door and tried the handle. It wiggled but didn’t give, still locked.

“After some insistence, mother agreed to let me speak with you, even if we’re not permitted to see one other.”

Kestrel pressed his forehead against the wooden surface, certain he could feel Dorian’s warmth from the other end. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Am I okay? You were the one who was nearly killed last I saw you.” His voice broke and he paused. “I’m just thankful to hear your voice, amatus.”

“See? He’s fine. I’m not even allowed to see him anymore,” Morven hissed from the other side of the door. “Luckily, Mistress was feeling generous today, letting you visit his room after agreeing to her pick of your bride.”

What? Kestrel’s heart stopped. He was the one who was supposed to marry Dorian, not some woman selected by his mother. He clenched his hand into a fist, the weight of his ring digging into his finger. “You already have your wife selected…?” He tried to sound anything but devastated by the news.

“I promise you, it means nothing, Kes.” Dorian was quick to reassure as best as he could through the wooden barricade.

“Lucky bastard has netted a gorgeous woman, pet. And she comes from good breeding with a strong magical lineage. Young too,” Morven said loud enough for Kestrel to hear. “Bet after a couple rounds with her, he’ll forget all about you.”

There was a loud crash and the door shook with the force of a sudden impact.

Morven laughed, right on the other side of the door. “Someone’s a bit touchy. I’ll overlook the rough treatment only because the slaves are still scrubbing your blood off the dungeon floor. But try that again, and I’ll have you right back down there.”

“It’s okay. I know it’s not true,” Kestrel said, earning another chuckle from Morven.

“Amatus, I...I must be leaving now, but I’ll stop by for another visit as soon as I can. Don’t worry.”

The last sentence held an extra weight behind it.

He wouldn’t worry any more. He knew exactly what he needed to do. “Goodbye, ma vhenan,” he whispered into the warm wood.

****************

The sunlight filtered through the opaque glass, settling on Dalish and Kestrel in the oversized bed. Dalish sat on the edge, monitoring the collection of blood from Kestrel’s arm as he laid on his back. Subtle shapes shifted along the ceiling, but he’d grown used to those over the last few weeks. Shadows haunted him even during the day now.

“How are you feeling?” Dalish asked, voice soft with concern.

“Fine. I’m fine.” Truth was, his head spun, and nausea nibbled at his stomach from the blood draw, but Dalish had to gather a certain amount each week. If he didn’t return with the correct, ample amount, he’d face punishment, not Kestrel. He was off-limits for the time being. Safe from any torture while Aquinea waited for her deal with Dorian to be upheld. Good thing he’d be seeing that never happened soon. If Atronis would ever show up.

The door flew open so hard, it slammed into the far wall. Both Kestrel and Dalish startled, jostling the needle loose from his vein and sending a spray of blood outward in protest. Kestrel sat up even as Dalish clamped a hand over the wound, pushing healing magic into it.

Atronis stormed in, cheeks flushed with anger. As soon as his eyes found Kestrel, they narrowed. “You...this is all your fault!”

Wish and you shall receive. Maybe he should’ve wished Atronis away at that moment. It would save Kestrel the inevitability of punching him.

“Do you have any idea the trouble you’ve caused me this last week?” he snarled.

“What? From my prison of a room?” Kestrel said, keeping the snark from his voice, but not the sarcasm from his words.

“You know what I mean!”

Kestrel tilted his head, a small smile playing across his lips. It was a dangerous thing, and Dalish instinctively pulled away. “I’m a bit dense, you know. Why don’t you spell out how I’ve managed to inconvenience you when you’re the one who put me here.”

Atronis floundered for a moment, sputtering and rolling his eyes. Finally, he brushed Kestrel’s words aside and continued his rant, “My slaves have been bothering me nonstop over the last week to come see you. I kept insisting I had better things to do. And, honestly, they shouldn’t even be talking to me that way! This morning, I woke up, and they were all gone! Only a letter was left behind in their absence. It instructed that I was to visit you and…” He paused to glance behind him out the open doorway and the guard positioned right outside. He inhaled deeply, taking a moment to calmly shut the door. As soon as the barrier was in place, he whispered, “Bring this package to you. Discreetly. How did you manage to get my slaves to do your bidding from here?” The volume of voice rose with each word, incredulous.

“They’re not doing my bidding, I assure you.”

Atronis retrieved a bundle from behind his robe and tossed it on the loveseat. “That’s not even the worst of it! Do you know what I had to agree to do to even have this time with you?”

By the disgusted look on his face, Kestrel had an idea. Still, he owed this man a lot. “No, not a clue,” he answered, sliding off the bed. He quickly grabbed the bedpost as his vision darkened around the edges.

“I have to...to…!” Atronis flushed for an entirely different reason this time.

Collecting his bearings, Kestrel took a few steps towards Atronis, a pleasant smile plastered on his face. “You have to…?”

Atronis held up a small vial, and Kestrel swore his skin turned a bit green. “I must collect you...your…”

A few more steps. “You’ve never been at such a loss of words before. Spit it out.” The closer he crept, the more his calm started to crumble, revealing an endless pit of screaming rage.

Atronis stumbled back a step into a chair as Kestrel stalked too close. “Your spunk. I’m to collect a vial of your spunk before I leave here.”

“Poor you,” murmured Kestrel, fist already balled and heading towards Atronis’ revolted features. It connected with a satisfying crunch, sending the taller man staggering back, clutching his face. Atronis never saw the attack coming, never considering Kestrel a physical threat to him.

“Poor, poor you,” Kestrel sneered over him. “Your privileged life is so fucking awful. Your slaves abandoned you for a day, boohoo. You have to ask me to jerk off into a tube for you, boo-fucking-hoo.”

Crouched down, Atronis watched him, fearful, through his protective fingers splayed over his bleeding nose.

Kestrel heard Dalish murmur a revered “whoa” from his side. He paid it no mind, launching into a long awaited, fury-fueled tangent. “Meanwhile, I’m fucking beaten, raped, and tortured daily all because your pride couldn’t handle Dorian liking someone more than you!” He closed the new distance between them in a flash, grabbing Atronis by the throat and pinning him against the chair. “Worst still, Dorian is fucking beaten and tortured and forced to marry some woman all because you’d rather he suffer, because he doesn’t want to be with you!”

“L-Look, I--” Atronis stammered, eyes bulging.

Kestrel squeezed, silencing him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses,” he hissed, rage making his eyes burn.

Kestrel expected Atronis to fight, to grab onto his arm and struggle to break his hold, but the man just slumped, eyes closing. Startled, Kestrel released him to slide the rest of the way to the floor.

Once there, Atronis buried his face in his hands, careful of his nose. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he said into his palms, voice muffled. “I just…”

“Wanted me out of the way and didn’t consider any consequences like the spoiled brat you are,” Kestrel finished for him, the anger fleeing and leaving him drained and unsteady on his feet.

“Ah! Master Kestrel, please sit,” Dalish said, suddenly by his side. He guided him over to the loveseat, hovering as his hands wrung the edge of his shirt in worry.

“I’m fine, Dalish. Do you mind checking on the asshole? I most likely broke his nose,” Kestrel said. He sank heavily into the loveseat as he watched Dalish cautiously kneel before Atronis.

The man lowered his hands without prompting. Sure enough, his nose rested at an odd angle, blood still oozing from the split skin on the bridge and from the nostrils.

The sight twisted Kestrel’s stomach in some confusing mixture of guilt and dark satisfaction.

Dalish realigned Atronis’ nose without warning, only releasing him when Atronis jerked away. “That was the painful part. Now I can heal it, Master. If you’ll permit me.”

Atronis’ cautious gaze never left Kestrel, even as he nodded his head in permission to Dalish’s request.

Watching Atronis’ nose mend with magic, Kestrel muttered, “You’re lucky I didn’t have a blade in hand. Dalish wouldn’t be able to heal the damage I would’ve done then. It would’ve been too quick of a death for what you did to Dorian, to me, but it would’ve been satisfying enough.”

Dalish, finished with his healing, turned towards Kestrel, light blue eyes wide with surprise at the vehemence in his voice.

Atronis swallowed hard, paling with the threat.

Both staring at him with those wide eyes, it suddenly struck him how similar they looked. Sure, their hair color was different but those pale eyes, that nose. Even their lips. Without thinking, he blurted, “Are you two related?”

Startled gazes shifted from him to each other, everyone grateful for a change in topic.

“Who’s your father, boy?” Atronis asked with a frown.

“I...I don’t know, Master. He’s someone of wealth and power from what I’ve been told.”

“And your mother?”

“She was a house slave. She was a Dalish elf before she was sold to House Pavus.”

“She was always Dalish,” Kestrel softly corrected, earning him a glance from Dalish and a nodding acknowledgement.

“Sounds like my bastard of a father,” grumbled Atronis. He pulled himself to his feet, leaning against the chair with a wince. “I suppose it’s possible we’re related. I have a few half-siblings out there already. What’s one more,” he said with a shrug, as if that was the end of the discussion.

“But Dalish could be your brother!” Kestrel insisted. The more he looked between Atronish and Dalish, the more he was convinced.

“And? He’s also a slave. I am next in line to our House name after my father. Another sibling, especially a slave, doesn’t change that. Anyway, what’s so important that I had to trek all the way out here and bring that sack of herbs? After the welcome I received, I should just walk right out that door, tell the guard I’ve been assaulted and laugh as you get what you deserve. Bunny.”

Kestrel clenched his jaw. He could punch Atronis again for his nonchalance at finding a half-brother. Of course, why should he be surprised? Atronis cared only for himself. He was already starting to rise before he realized it. Atronis flinched away before he could hide it. That gave him a sliver of pleasure. At least the asshole wasn’t so dismissive of him now.

He settled his rear against the loveseats’s arm instead of advancing further. “I need your help.” Atronis immediately opened his mouth in protest, but Kestrel held up his hand, continuing, “For Dorian.”

That cut off any further protest better than Kestrel’s gesture had. Maybe Atronis didn’t care solely about himself. Maybe a small fraction of him cared for Dorian. He needed his help if his plan were to work, which meant playing on that emotion.

“Dorian is getting married because of the corner you’ve backed him into.”

Atronis sneered. “Perhaps if you weren’t so pathetic, it wouldn’t--”

“Fine. The corner we’ve backed him into. Satisfied?” He only spoke again once Atronis grudgingly nodded his head. “Aquinea is using me to hold Dorian hostage to her will. If I’m no longer in the picture, he’ll be free.”

Atronis extended his hand, a long sword materializing in his grip. It glowed, light brightening at its tip as it was oriented at Kestrel. “So I kill you. It’ll be my pleasure. Maybe then Dorian will stop pining after you.”

Kestrel rolled his eyes. “And what will Dorian think when he finds out you’re the one that murdered me? What will his mother do? Your father? I may be Aquinea’s captive, but I hold a lot of value to her alive.”

With an annoyed huff, Atronis waved the blade away. “Fine. I assume you have a better idea?” He sounded less than pleased about it.

“Perhaps if you quit interrupting me, I will have a chance to get to it,” Kestrel snapped and Atronis summoned the sword back, holding it defensively before him.

Kestrel ignored it. “My death needs to be my doing, so no blame can fall elsewhere. Dalish,” the boy jumped with his name, attention snapping back to Kestrel, “I’ll need you close enough but not in the room with me before or immediately after, understood?”

Dalish hesitated, wiping at his eyes. “I-I don’t want you to die.”

“Shh,” Kestrel soothed, reaching out to run his fingers through Dalish’s hair. “There will only be the appearance of death. That’s what the herbs are for. I’ll need your help making a precise concoction. Can you do that for me, Dalish? It’s our chance to get out of here. Together.”

“...Okay,” Dalish said.

Kestrel knew that expression on the boy’s face. It was one of absolute trust. He only hoped he was deserving of it. Time would tell. He offered Dalish an appreciative smile before turning his attention away.

“Atronis, I need you to be with Dorian during his next weekly visit two days from now. You’ll be able to vouch for his whereabouts, although I doubt Aquinea will blame him. More importantly, I need him to see my body as proof of my death. Then get him out of here safely. He shouldn’t linger in case Aquinea decides that with my death, Dorian should also die.”

“Okay, sounds simple enough. And then, what? You manages to escape while they’re disposing of your body, and once you’re over the border, you reach out to Dorian to let him know you’re okay? Plan on having him drop everything and come running to you in Nevarra or Orlais or some other sub-par country? You’re going to make him give up all he’s been working for here. You know he’s going to run after you wherever you’re at, right?” Atronis grew more and more impassioned as he spoke, hands gesturing to emphasize his words.

“No.” It was one word softly spoken, but it stopped Atronis’ ranting immediately. Kestrel looked down at Dalish, finding comfort in his gaze. “No,” he repeated. “I won’t contact Dorian. I’ll remain dead to him. If Dorian knew I was still alive, you’re right, he’d might come running. Then his mother would find out I wasn’t really dead. What’s to stop her from capturing me again and putting us right back where we started? Even if the contract goes back on his head after my death, he’ll still be safer than having me held over him.”

“Why? What’s in this for you?” Atronis asked, frowning.

Kestrel looked at him. “We’ll gain our freedom, but more importantly, I’ll know that Dorian won’t spend his life screaming on the inside.”

Atronis snorted. “But you will. I know you’re fucking in love with him. I don’t get it.”

“I would give up everything for him. Wouldn’t you?”

Ashamed, Atronis looked away. That was answer enough.

“Fine. I’ll see this through. For Dorian,” he grumbled. “But you better make sure your part works, or we’ll all face Mistress Pavus’ wrath and most don’t survive that.” Still frowning, lost in his own thoughts, he made for the door.

“Wait,” Kestrel said, stopping him in his tracks. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He held out his hand, fighting at the embarrassed flush that threatened his cheeks.

“Oh, Maker,” Atronis muttered. He retrieved the vial from his robe and handed it over, swallowing back the nausea that was written all over his face.

Kestrel snatched the tube and disappeared into the bathroom. Thoughts of the night Dorian proposed in his own chamber brought Kestrel over the edge soon enough. Container full, he returned the stopper and rinsed his hands, bringing the damp towel with the vial.

“You may want to clean yourself up before walking out the door,” he said as he tossed the washcloth to Atronis. Even though his nose was healed, he still had blood all over his face.

Still pensive, Atronis cleaned up his face without a word, discarding the towel to the floor once finished. A bit of blood had dribbled onto the pale collar of his robe, but it disappeared into the inside, mostly hidden from view.

As Kestrel extended the tube to Atronis, the Tevinter said, “You’re really his best option, you know. It shouldn’t have come down to this, okay? Just know I’ll do my best to see he’s safe.” He accepted the vial and tucked it away without a thought, despite all his previous complaints.

Kestrel realized that was probably the closest he’d ever get as an apology from Atronis, but it would do. “Make him happy,” Kestrel said as Atronis open the door.

He paused for a moment in the doorway, the only acknowledgement to Kestrel’s words he made, before the guard shut the door behind him.

The shadows lengthened in the room, reaching out for him as despair threatened to overwhelm his thoughts. The plan was being put into motion. There was no turning back now. He’d never see Dorian again, never feel his touch, never hear his wonderful, confident laugh or his private chuckle shared only between them. His world was dissolving all around him into taloned shadows.

“Kestrel?”

That soft, concerned voice brightened his surroundings enough to send the shadows fleeing to the darkest corners of the room. He looked down to find Dalish already had two bundles of herbs in hand and a small parchment unfurled. It held specific instructions on how to complete both the poison and the antidote in Solas’ precise handwriting.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Can you make both potions with what’s been provided?”

Dalish nodded his head. “Yes, I can. But you should know, everyone’s body reacts differently to these plants. There’s no guarantee--”

“Then there’s nothing left to do but move forward,” Kestrel interrupted, tone firm, leaving no room for argument.

Bowing his head, he said softly, “Then I’ll get to work on these.” Dalish bundled everything together again and slipped the package into his shirt, securing it under his belt. “If all goes well, I’ll bring the first bottle by tomorrow with supper.”

“Good night, Dalish.”

Dalish offered a fleeting smile. “Good night, Kestrel.”

The door clicked shut behind him, the heavy lock scraping into place. Without Dalish’s warming presence, the shadows returned in force, twisting into his nightmares as he climbed into bed, too exhausted from the blood draw and emotional turmoil of his plan being in place.

The nightmares were nothing compared to the despair he felt within. He would never see Dorian again. Could never see him again. That thought was worse than all the nightmares that haunted him, but for Dorian, he’d spend the rest of his life screaming on the inside.

#pavellan #kestrel lavellan #dorian pavus #lavellan x dorian #dragon age fanfic #dragon age

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pleasecallmeeds · 6 years

Text

a prom only for losers (chapter four)

chapter one chapter two chapter three

ships: richie x eddie, stan x bill, ben x beverly

premise: it’s junior prom time, and it’s time for the losers to find some dates. obviously richie’s got his boyfriend, eddie (despite richie’s known hatred for the dance), but when the other loser’s crushes get other dates, some things don’t go as initially planned.

read it on ao3!

chapter four of four.

Bill and Stan

Oh god. What was he doing? What the hell was he going to say? It was rushed. He should’ve waited and thought everything through. Stan could be in there any minute. Oh Jesus. It felt hot all of the sudden. He pulled at his suit collar.

“Bill?”

Oh no.

“H-Hey, Stan.”

Stan entered, his hands in his pockets and his hair all over his face. He looked hot, like he had just been in a sauna. “What’s up?”

“We need...we need to talk. I just...I can’t stand you being mad at me anymore.” Stan sighed and walked closer.

“Me, mad at you? Bill…” He scratched his neck. “I overreacted. I...I brought you in here for stupid reasons and if anyone should be mad, it should be you. I treated Beverly like she was some kind of property and that was horrible. I’m not...I’m not mad at you because you agreed to go with Beverly. I got mad because…” He felt something in his throat. “Bill, I was mad because I wanted to go with you. ” Stan couldn’t make eye contact. “I know that’s stupid, because I don’t even know if you’re gay--”

Bill kissed Stan’s lips, putting both of his hands on Stan’s cheeks, pulling him closer until he felt Stan against him. Stan pressed him against the wall and put his hands on Bill’s hips. Before they knew it, they were in one of the stalls. Bill giggled as he fiddled with the lock of the stall door with Stan behind him, a million things going through his mind (including, but not limited to, “holy fuck I kissed Bill Denbrough” and “holy shit I’m about to make out in a bathroom stall with Bill Denbrough”). As Bill finally got the door to lock, he gripped Stan’s hips and pulled him against him, pressing small kisses into Stan’s neck and on every small mole on the way up, until he made it to his lips. Stan wrapped his arms around Bill’s neck and pulled him closer as their tongues explored each other’s mouths.

Bill brought his fingers up to Stan’s buttoned shirt, unbuttoning every single button until Stan’s bare chest was exposed.

“You’ve got a little bit of drool...right...there…” Stan kissed Bill’s cheek as he unbuttoned Bill’s shirt.

“There’s more where that came from…”

Bill’s shirt was opened, revealing his chest and very few chest hairs for which his brother liked to mock on occasion. He dragged his fingers down Stan’s chest. “So beautiful, Stan.”

“Have you ever seen yourself, Bill Denbrough?” Stan replied. Bill smirked and bent down to kiss Stan’s chest, from his clavicle all the way down to his belly button, until he saw Stan’s erection in his pants. He paused before looking back up into Stan's eyes.

“Do you need any help with that?”

Richie and Eddie

“Jesus Christ!”

“What? What is it?”

Richie laughed.

“You owe me big!”

“What?”

Eddie turned around and watched as the couple reentered the prom, holding hands and looking definitely ruffled up.

“I know I have shitty eyesight, but I think that’s a fucking hickey on Billiam’s neck. Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely a hickey.” Eddie sighed. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh buddy. I’m no good with baseball terms but I think Stan just hit a slam dunk.”

“I don’t think that’s how baseball works.”

“What I’m trying to say is that ten dollars is probably chump change compared to what happened in that bathroom.”

“Okay, how about…” Eddie checked the money in his wallet. “Um. I’ve got...five bucks.”

“Shit.” He paused. “Well...better than nothing.”

Ben and Bev

The night was reaching its end. Ben could definitely say he was pleased with how the night turned out: he was dancing with Beverly Marsh, and just Beverly Marsh. It was like a dream come true, and it helped even more when he saw Bill and Stan walk out of the bathroom completely fucked up and holding hands. Beverly laughed when she saw them, covering her mouth and leaning on Ben’s shoulder.

“He really did it,” She chuckled. Ben laughed with her. “I never thought he would have the balls to--”

Something inside Ben...sparked. Like a certain part of him was lit on fire, and he felt like he could do anything. Bill was completely out of the picture, and something about Beverly assuming Bill of all people wouldn’t have the balls to kiss someone really made him want to prove something. Out of nowhere but not exactly regretted, Ben pulled the laughing Beverly toward him and pressed his lips against hers. She was shocked, definitely, but she didn’t pull away--she just stood, kissing him, and Ben could feel her lips turn into a smile.

“You really did it,” She whispered as they pulled away.

“What do you mean?”

“I knew it was you, Ben. The one who wanted to ask me to prom. Bill told me it was someone…”

“But you have a million admirers,” Ben stammered.

“None like you, though.” She smiled. “Most of them just cat call. None of them would actually kiss me.” She smiled and put her hands on Ben’s cheeks. “I’m glad you did, Ben.” She pulled him again and kissed him like they had been together for months. As soon as they pulled away, Beverly finally heard the tunes of a slow song. Ben looked at her and felt his face get red. “Have you ever slow danced before?”

The truth was yes, with his mom, but something about that didn’t seem like the right answer.

“Uh, yeah, I think so. I don’t quite remember how exactly.”

“It’s simple.”

They followed everyone else’s lead.

the losers

“Just put your hands on my waist like this,” Bev whispered. “And then I put my hands on your shoulders like this. And then we just...sway? I guess? You’ll know what to do.”

“Have you ever slow danced with a man before?” Bill asked Stan.

“I can’t say that I have.”

“Well, erm, have you slow danced with a girl before?”

“Not really, no.”

Bill smiled at him.

“Well, I guess we’ll learn together.”

Bill squeezed Stan’s hand and led him to the dance floor, where he noticed Ben and Beverly dancing, Beverly with her head nuzzled in Ben’s shoulder and her arms around his neck. He pulled Stan towards him and put his hands on his waist, pulling him closer. Stan chuckled and put his hands on Bill’s shoulders, but then slowly up to his cheeks to pull him into a kiss. Smiling, the two danced in each other’s arms.

“Rich, it’s the slow song. Come on.”

Eddie jumped up in his seat and grabbed Richie’s arm, pulling him up.“I’m coming, I’m coming,” He said, laughing. “Shit, Eddie, look.” He motioned toward Bill and Stan, but also at Ben and Bev. “Prom really does work wonders, doesn’t it, Eds?”

“Told you.”

“Come on, Eds. Let’s dance.” Richie put his right hand on Eddie’s wrist but put his left hand out in the air, waiting for Eddie to hold it.

“What are you doing?”

“This was how I was taught to slow dance.”

Eddie chuckled. “It works.” Eddie intertwined his hand with Eddie’s and put his other hand on Richie’s shoulder. “You are...ridiculous, Richie Tozier.”

“You love it, though.”

“I guess.” Eddie gave him a teasing smile. Richie pulled him closer and pressed a kiss onto his cheek. “In all seriousness,” he whispered. “I love you, Richie.” Richie smiled and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s lips.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

The rest of the night was a blur. Eddie tried to remember every wonderful, amazing part after the slow dance, but unfortunately it was a bit difficult after a while. They were on that kind of high you get after an amazing night. First, they went to go eat food at a nearby diner, where they almost got thrown out for laughing so hysterically. They all went in different cars; Bev in Ben’s truck, Stan in Bill’s car, and Richie with Eddie. They were all wonderful pairings, but when they were all together was when they had the most fun. They went out on the town in their cars, blasting music and singing loudly, almost screaming, until they reached the highest point in Derry and all sat in their cars, looking at their dates and looking over the town on possibly the greatest night of their lives.

Thank you for reading! :D

Tag List: @richietoaster, @reddie-to-fight, @reddietofall, @lolahood, @geckolover001, @biancavlove, @kalyn-is-not-okay

#richie tozier #stanley uris #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #reddie #stenbrough #benverly #a prom only for losers #it 2017 #madison's fanfiction

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sigrun23 · 7 years

Text

Light in the Darkness - Chapter 2

Many thanks to @torestoreamends for helping me with the story. She’s amazing!

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10518825/chapters/23433681

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12429532/2/Light-in-the-Darkness

Harry was sitting at his son's bedside, in a private hospital room. Three days had passed since the attack, and Albus still hadn't woken up. Harry and Ginny were constantly watching over their son, mostly together, but now it was Ginny's turn to go home and sleep at least for a few hours. James and Lily were at their grandparents', nervously awaiting any news about their brother's state. Scorpius, Albus's boyfriend, had been immediately informed about the assault and had come to the hospital with his father. He became hysterical seeing Albus and learning about his condition, and had to be given Calming Draught. He visited him every day, bringing fresh flowers and talking to him for hours, hoping that it would help Albus to wake up.

Harry was holding his son's hand, which was still slightly trembling. Apart from two seizures on the first night, Albus didn't have more attacks, and the Healers were sure that tremors would soon be gone completely, thanks to a potion Albus was being given. Everybody's main concern was the fact that he was still in coma, and no one knew when and in what mental state he would wake up.

Harry tried to stay optimistic, but he couldn't stop horrible thoughts swirling in his mind. Was his beloved son going to live like a plant, his body functioning, breathing, pumping blood through his vessels, but his brain dead? Or was Albus going to wake up as a mere shell of himself, insane, broken, like Neville's parents? Harry didn't know which vision was more frightening.

He reached for reports from the Aurors who were working on Albus's case. There was no trace of the attacker. No one present in the park that evening had seen anyone or anything suspicious. They had interrogated former Death Eaters and their families but learned nothing helpful. It added to Harry's stress that the aggressor was still free and unpunished. Harry believed that even a lifetime in Azkaban was too mild a punishment for this crime.

As he read, something caught his attention. Albus’s fingers weren’t twitching anymore, not like they had been. They were still moving, but slowly closing into a tight fist, as though Albus were controlling them. Harry looked at his son and saw his eyelids fluttering. His breaths were shallow and fast and there were signs of distress and pain on his young face.

Then Albus opened his green eyes and screamed. It was a scream full of terror and pain, and it broke Harry's heart. Albus turned weakly to his side and curled into a tight ball, still screaming and sobbing. Harry reached for a tall flask filled with an analgesic potion. It had a straw put into it so the potion wouldn't spill as Albus drank it while lying down. Harry gently put the straw into Albus's mouth and told him to drink. After a moment Albus took a few small sips. Harry stroked Albus’s hair until he finally stopped yelling in pain and relaxed.

“Albus. Al,” Harry said softly, almost whispered. “Do you hear me?”

“Dad?” Albus croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse and screaming.

“Yes, it's me. You're safe now, no one will hurt you. Do you still feel any pain?”

“A little.”

“Drink more. Until the pain stops,” Harry again put the straw in his son's mouth; the Healers had said that the potion had no maximum dose, and Albus should be given as much as he needed. Finally, after the flask was half empty, Albus nodded.

“No pain,” he said, sounding relieved. “Thanks, Dad.”

Harry was crying tears of joy, because it appeared Albus was completely sane, but when Albus spoke, they turned to tears of anguish.

“Dad, could you turn on the lights? I can't see anything.”

Harry swallowed, realising he had to convey a terrible message to his son.

“The lights are on,” he said and paused. After a moment, he took a deep breath and continued: “Albus, I'm so sorry but the Cruciatus Curse destroyed your optic nerves. You're blind.”

Albus sat abruptly and raised a hand to his eyes. He felt around them, thinking that maybe he had a blindfold or a dressing on them. But no, his face and eyelids felt completely normal, there was no scarring, no injuries, nothing which may hinder his eyesight. Maybe his father was lying? But why would he lie about such an awful thing? Yet, Albus preferred to think that his father was telling a lie than to believe his words.

“I don't believe you,” the boy said, sounding angrier than he wanted to, in an attempt to mask his fear. “You're lying.”

“Albus, I would never lie to you,” Harry said firmly.

“No, no, no.” Albus was still in denial. “Turn on the lights. Please.”

“They are on. And it's the middle of the day. Albus, you are-”

“No!” the distraught boy interrupted his father. “Cast Lumos!”

“Albus,” Harry was trying to stay calm for his son but seeing Albus's fear and pain caused tears to fall uncontrollably down his face.

“Cast the spell, Dad,” Albus almost begged, trying desperately not to panic.

He heard rustling of clothes as his father took out a wand. Harry whispered 'Lumos' and Albus waited impatiently to see the bright light. But he saw nothing.

“Are you casting the spell?” he asked, panic evident in his voice.

“Of course. Here,” Harry took his son's trembling hand and wrapped it around his phoenix feather wand. Holding the wand together with Albus, he once again pronounced the spell, loud and clear:

“Lumos!”

And still Albus saw nothing. No light. There was only darkness around him and sometimes streaks of red or blue. He couldn't deny it anymore, he was blind. But there was still one ray of hope.

“But maybe it's not permanent? The Healers can fix it, right?”

“Albus, I wish they could but I'm afraid it's impossible. Even magic can't fix the nervous system.”

“What about Muggles? Maybe they know some methods of restoring eyesight?”

“Aunt Hermione already did some research and for now Muggles can do no more than Wizards.”

That was it. He was blind. Permanently. He would never see his parents, his siblings, his boyfriend again. He would see no one and nothing. When that truth finally reached him, Albus broke down completely and burst into tears.

Harry embraced his son and kissed his forehead. He wanted to comfort him, but knew that no words could bring solace in that situation. So he just held Albus tightly and wished that he could change places with him, give him his eyesight instead.

“I want to see Mum,” Albus said between sobs and then, when he realised what he had said, he started crying even harder.

“I'll get her,” Harry said and, still holding his son, sent Ginny his stag Patronus.

Albus was still crying hysterically when five minutes later Ginny rushed into the room. She hugged her son fiercely and he clung to her, sobbing uncontrollably into her chest. Ginny stroked her son's hair and whispered some comforting words into his ear. After a moment, she looked at her husband questioningly.

“He's alright,” said Harry and Ginny sighed with relief, knowing what he had meant. Her worst fear was over.

Albus was crying so hard that Harry was afraid he was going to make himself sick. He sat next to him and rubbed his back.

“Albus, please, calm down. Breathe deeply. It's going to be fine. We'll help you,” he said, but couldn't tell if his son heard anything.

Finally, Albus calmed down a bit. He was exhausted and wanted to do nothing but sleep. Ginny was still embracing him tightly, not ready to release him, now he was finally back with them.

“Harry,” Ginny said. “Tell Lily, James and Scorpius that Albus is awake. They can come visit him later today.” After a moment's thought Ginny added: “Of course, if you want them to, Albus.”

“I do. Can Scorpius visit first?” Albus said quietly, tears still running down his face.

“Of course, sweetheart. He'll be here soon.”

She felt her son relaxing a bit at the thought of meeting with his boyfriend.

Scorpius knocked on the door of Albus's room and waited impatiently for a response. He had been overjoyed when Harry had informed him and his father that Albus was awake and that he wanted to see his boyfriend. Scorpius wished to jump, dance and sing from happiness. His father told him to calm down a bit and take Albus's dreadful situation into consideration. Draco was currently talking with Ginny in the hospital's café, and Scorpius had been allowed to visit Albus on his own.

“Come in!” the second he heard his boyfriend's voice, he opened the door.

Albus was sitting on the bed, looking in the Scorpius's direction, but one glance was enough for Scorpius to know that Healers' predictions were correct and Albus was indeed blind. He wasn't looking directly at Scorpius, but a good two feet to the right, and his gaze was distant and unfocused.

“Hi, Albus,'” Scorpius quickly said when he realised that Albus couldn't know who entered the room.

“Scorpius!” A radiant smile appeared on Albus's face.

Scorpius hurried to the bed and hugged his boyfriend fiercely, wanting to express through the embrace all his love, relief and support. Albus flinched at first, not expecting to be touched, but quickly returned the hug and relaxed in Scorpius's arms. Tears welled in his eyes when he thought about never seeing Scorpius's beautiful face again, but he blinked a few times, not wanting his boyfriend to see his distress.

After a long while, Scorpius released Albus from his arms and looked at him closely.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, concerned.

When Albus heard that question, he started to think that maybe Scorpius visiting so soon wasn't a good idea. His boyfriend would want to talk about what happened, of course in an earnest attempt to comfort him. But Albus didn't wish to talk about the attack and its horrible effects. All he wanted to do was cry, and then sleep and forget about everything.

Albus shrugged.

“Fine.”

“Albus,” Scorpius said in an admonishing tone. “You can tell me everything, you know that, right? You don't have to hide your feelings.”

When Albus still didn't say anything more, he tried by asking specific questions: “Do you feel any pain? Healers say that you may be in pain for a few months after such a long exposure to the Cruc-”

“Yes, I know,” Albus interrupted him, sounding irritated.

Scorpius raised an eyebrow, surprised by Albus's behaviour. It wasn't Albus's frustration and rudeness that shocked him, because his best friend often lashed out at people when he was angry or scared, it was just that Albus very rarely turned his anger against him. So rarely that Scorpius had difficulty recalling the last time he had done that.

But he wasn't going to give up. He knew why Albus was reacting this way and he was determined to not let him wallow in misery alone like he apparently intended to do.

“Albus, don't shut me out,” he said gently but firmly, taking Albus's hand and squeezing it tight. “I want to help you.”

“How could you help me?!” Albus raised his voice. “I'm fucking blind, and there's nothing you can do about it! No one can fix it!”

“I'm so sorry,” Scorpius said gently, feeling a little hurt by his friend's outburst.

“Everybody is sorry! I don't need it! Besides, it's not your fault.”

Scorpius was silent, not knowing what to say to not anger Albus even more.

“Look at me,” said Albus and Scorpius saw tears brimming in his green eyes. “I'm broken, destroyed. My hands are shaking, I'm in so much pain that if it wasn't for the potion I'd be writhing and crying on the floor. And I'm blind. I'll never be able to read again, watch a film, go outside on my own, see new places. I'm blind at the age of fifteen. Fifteen, Scorpius.”

Tears were streaming down Scorpius's face. But before he could say anything, Albus doubled over and hugged his knees to the chest. He was gripping his hair so hard that Scorpius was afraid he was going to pull them out.

“Albus!?”

“It hurts,” Albus sobbed. “Potion.”

“Potion. Right,” Scorpius panicked. He wanted to run for a Healer but he couldn't leave his boyfriend alone. “Where is it?”

“On the table,” Albus was gritting his teeth to keep from shouting.

Scorpius found a flask filled with a red potion. Before he could put the straw in Albus's mouth, Albus started screaming. Scorpius was sure seeing his best friend screaming in agony was the most devastating thing he had ever witnessed. Now he knew how Albus must have felt when Delphi tortured him. It was worse than the torture itself.

“Albus, here. Drink it,” Scorpius gently put the straw in Albus's mouth.

For a moment he wasn't sure if Albus was capable of drinking the potion but finally he took a small sip. Scorpius was holding the flask with shaking hands as Albus drank, the pain visibly diminishing with each swallow. The flask was almost empty when Albus released the straw from between his trembling lips. He released the death grip on his hair and raised his head. He was pale, tears and sweat were covering his face, his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Scorpius's heart broke when he saw his boyfriend's suffering.

“Is that enough?”

“Yes. At least for now,” Albus answered, wiping his face with the pyjama's sleeve.

“Did you have an attack like this before?” Scorpius asked, putting the flask back on the bedside table.

“Well, I woke up in pain. Dad gave me this potion. And then Dr Austen gave me a basal dose, as she called it, which is administered every six hours to keep the pain at bay. But she said that if I felt any pain, I should take as much potion as I need to stop hurting. That was the first time it happened but I've been awake only for a few hours.”

“Maybe you should be given a higher basal dose?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Albus fidgeted with his blanket for a while and then asked: “Scorpius?”

“Yes?”

“Did- did you have any residual pains after you were tortured by Delphi?”

Scorpius hesitated. He didn't like to think or talk about his torture. He still had nightmares about that day but now he knew he was lucky. Compared to Albus's torment and loss, his suffering was nothing.

“Scorpius? Are you still here?” Albus's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Yes, sorry,” Scorpius said and took Albus's hand. “No, I didn't. I was exposed to the Cruciatus for a short time. Three times just for a few seconds. I can hardly remember the pain.”

“That's good.” Albus's anger had evaporated after the attack. Now he was just tired and resigned.

After a moment Scorpius said sadly: “but you were tortured for fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?” Albus asked disbelievingly. “It felt like ages.”

“That's what Healers said. Do you know after what time most people go mad?”

Albus shook his head.

“Thirteen minutes. Alice and Frank Longbottom, Professor Longbottom's parents, went insane after seventeen minutes. And they were Aurors, trained in Occlumency.”

“What's the longest someone endured without going mad?” Albus asked, slightly terrified.

“Twenty-three minutes. Severus Snape. But he was used to it, and one of the best Occlumens' of all times.”

“But I'm not mad?!” Albus was scared that he was insane without knowing about it. Mad people didn't realise they were mad, right?

“Of course not!” Scorpius took Albus's face in his hands and looked him in the eyes, even though Albus was staring somewhere over his shoulder. “That's the point! You're still a child, Albus, and you survived much longer than most adults. You're not broken or destroyed! You're one of the strongest people I know. You were able to protect the most precious part of you. Your brilliant mind.”

Albus hadn't realised that he'd been so close to losing his mind, losing himself. Suddenly everything had been put into a different perspective, although it didn’t change the position he was in.

“But I'm still blind. And I'm afraid, Scorpius. I'm terrified that I won't be able to function on my own, that I'll constantly need someone else's help. I don't want to be a burden.”

“You're not a burden!” Scorpius released Albus's face and took his hand again. “You have family and friends and we're all here to help you. We want to help you. And yes, your life is going to be much different now but there are a lot of things which make blind people's lives easier, which help them to function almost normally. You can learn Braille so you can read again.”

“What about writing?” Albus asked anxiously.

“I bet there is a spell for that. You can use white cane to walk on your own. Or you can get a guide dog! You always wanted a dog.” Scorpius recalled Albus's great unfulfilled childhood dream.

“Yes, but as a friend, not because I'm blind.”

“Well, it can still be your friend.”

“But school is starting in three weeks,” Albus realised. “I won't learn Braille so quickly. How am I supposed to learn?”

“We'll think of something,” Scorpius said confidently. “Professor McGonagall and the other teachers will surely find some way so you can learn and not fall behind. And I'll be always with you until you learn how to navigate the castle with a white cane.”

“Even when I'm using the bathroom?”

“Yes, even then! I won't leave your side even for a second!” Scorpius answered with a smile. “Albus, it'll be fine.”

“It's easy for you to say. You're not the one who lost sight,” Albus said gloomily. “And all that help won't change the fact that I'll never see again. I won't see you, how you change in the years to come, how you become a handsome young man.”

“And you'll never see me becoming an old, wrinkled man. I'll always stay young and beautiful in your eyes!”

Albus rolled his eyes at Scorpius's attempt to improve his mood. But it worked because a little smile appeared on Albus's face.

“Yes! You smiled!” Scorpius squeaked joyfully. “Mission accomplished!”

“Scorpius!” Albus said reproachfully but couldn't stop his lips from forming an even bigger smile.

Then he felt Scorpius's hands cupping his face and a moment later Scorpius was kissing him. At first slowly, delicately, as if he wasn't sure if Albus wanted to be kissed, but Albus quickly dispelled Scorpius's doubts and deepened the kiss. For the first time since he woke up, Albus felt contentment.

The boys broke the kiss after a long while, both breathing deeply. Scorpius's hand remained in Albus's hair, stroking it and disentangling knots.

“Scorpius?” Albus asked after a minute of comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“What do my eyes look like?” Albus asked, not really sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“What do you mean?”

“Are they- I don't know- scarred? White, cloudy?”

Scorpius looked deeply into Albus's eyes, searching for any changes in them.

“No. They look perfectly normal, still beautifully green,” he said and saw a relief on Albus's face. “Your eyes weren't affected by the curse, only the nerves connecting them with your brain. But they are- um-” Scorpius hesitated. He didn't want to hurt Albus's feelings and make him think that he didn't like how he looked now.

“Scorpius, please, tell me.”

“Your eyes- they are- distant. You know, they're not focused on anything. Kind of- blank.”

“Maybe it'll be better if I close them?”

“Well, I prefer to see your eyes, I love looking into them, but it's up to you. What's more comfortable for you.”

“Then I'll keep them open,” Albus decided.

Scorpius smiled and, after realising that his boyfriend couldn't see him, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Albus flinched, surprised, but quickly relaxed.

“You need to tell me when you're going to touch or kiss me,” Albus said. “Unless you want me to flinch all the time.”

“Ok, I'll try to warn you next time. I've brought you something.”

Albus raised an eyebrow, curious. Scorpius took out something from his bag and handed it to the blind boy. Albus felt the object for a few seconds and smiled broadly when he recognised what it was.

“A Chocolate Frog!” he started to unwrap it but stopped and his face fell. “I don't know if I'm allowed to eat chocolate. I've just woken up from the coma and it might interfere with potions I'm taking.”

“You can eat it,” Scorpius assured him. “I asked you doctor and she said it's fine. Just not too much.”

“Great,” Albus said. He broke off the frog's head and put it in his mouth. “Here, have some,” he gave the frog to Scorpius who gratefully bit off its legs.

“I've got something else for you. I thought you're bored here so I brought you a book.”

“A book? But-”

“I'll read it to you. Aloud. If you want me to.”

“Great idea. You're right, it's pretty boring here. I asked my dad to bring me my phone so I can at least listen to some music. But the book is brilliant. What have you brought?”

“'A Tale of Two Cities'. I know that you wanted to read it,” Scorpius answered, hesitantly turning the book in his hands, now unsure if he had made a good choice.

“Yes, I wanted for a long time but never had time,” Albus said and moved towards the bed's edge, patting the space beside him. “Come here and let's start.”

Scorpius climbed onto the bed without hesitation and lay down next to his boyfriend. Albus put his head on Scorpius's shoulder and took his hand, stroking his delicate fingers with his thumb. Smiling, the blond boy opened the book and started reading:

“'A Tale of Two Cities' by Charles Dickens. 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way —'”

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