Title: Dude looks like a lady
Rating: R (for adult themes)
Word Count: 2072
Summary: Erik and Charles go off looking for Angel, but one of them has to go in disguise
because it's totally hot and necessary to make sure they're not in danger. Three guesses who!
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, only the plot (if you can call it that!) and the words .
A/N: Dedicated to the lovely </a>subarashiine- Hope you like! :)</span></b></span>
Erik scowled across the crowded room, eyes picking out a familiar face laughing and flirting with the pretty young women who gathered around him like moths to a flame. He ground his teeth in irritation as Charles hailed the bartender for yet another refill before turning back to the flirtatious blonde at his side with what looked suspiciously like a giggle.
They were looking for their first mutant recruit and Charles had discovered that the young woman they were supposed to be meeting worked in one of the Las Vegas strip clubs (“She can fly Erik, she can fly!” had been Charles’ ecstatic shout as they’d left Cerebro, Charles tripping and stumbling in dizzy delight but steadied by Erik’s ever-present arm tucked beneath his own). Moira of course, had insisted that at least one of them go in disguise to avoid detection, not willing to run the risk of CIA operatives being found recruiting, and in a Vegas strip bar of all places.
Thus it was that Erik found himself having the short straw rather rudely thrust at him, as both Shaw’s mutants knew his face and would instantly know something was up if they found him here, and because Charles had that winning way with women that was sure to win her over far easier than Erik’s own gruff demeanour.
A shrill burst of laughter exploded on his right and Erik automatically twisted to look, attention momentarily straying at the sight of Charles Xavier being given almost the equivalent of a lap dance by two women- and loving every moment if his blazing million-watt grin and dreamy expression were anything to go by.
Erik clenched his fists, feeling the metal taps on the bar vibrate as he struggled to control his temper, and he reached up to adjust the wig where it fell heavy and hot and thick on his bare shoulders. Coming to Las Vegas was a welcome experience. Going to a strip club whilst on a covert government mission was entertaining at least, even if he had to stand by and watch Charles get hit on by anything with two legs and a microscopic skirt as they fawned over his boyish good looks and ‘adorable’ Oxford accent. Going in disguise was perfectly acceptable, Erik having had to adjust his appearance many times over the course of his hunt for Shaw. But why on earth must he be dressed as a stripper- and a female one at that!
He supposed it must’ve been a brilliant joke for the desk-type suits, he thought moodily, casually yanking the lacy corset higher up over his fake cleavage in a fruitless attempt to prevent it digging into his narrow hips, as he leant back against the wall to scan over the faces that weaved in and out of his sight in time to the heaving beat. As the strap on his heels cut into his feet for the umpteenth time that evening, Erik considered that perhaps there should be an equivalent punishment waiting for Charles when they returned to their motel room, if he can still manage to actually stand by the end of this, he thought sulkily, glowering back in answer to the drunken grin shot in his direction by the telepath in question.
He leant back further against the wall, easing some of the pressure away from his aching feet and savoured instead the mental image of Charles restrained and ready, spread wide apart by the coils in their metal bedstead with a metal cock-ring encasing his heavy erection as Erik worked the metal balls of a Newton’s cradle into his tight hole, pushing and rubbing in alternative, languid strokes against his prostate even as Charles whimpered with frustration and tried fucking himself into thin air in a desperate grasp at ‘more!’
Erik swallowed thickly, feeling the moisture vanish from the air as a wave of heat flooded him, pooling heavily in his stomach as he felt himself beginning to twitch and stir against the confines of his constricting nylon briefs. Quickly focusing his attentions back to the mission at hand before anyone could spot him and wonder why on earth the slender, leggy ginger in the corner had an erection powerful enough to balance a table on, when they were quite clearly wearing the corset, suspenders and mini-skirt that marked them out as one of the female dancers, and scanned the crowded club for a glimpse of the tattooed woman Charles had described. Only to result with nothing but a handful of appreciative stares from the fat man by the bar who reminded Erik unpleasantly of the Nazi he had stabbed in Argentina.
By the time Erik had finished his covert surveillance and had crossed the room to join him, Charles Francis Xavier, Professor of genetics, had just finished reiterating his well-rehearsed speech on genetic mutations and their ‘groovy’ qualities for what felt like the fourteenth time that night (and in all fairness it probably was), and could hardly remember his own name, let alone what on earth they were supposed to be doing in Las Vegas apart from having a good time.
‘And enjoying the great martinis this guy makes,’ he thought appreciatively through the drunken haze, and gestured to the bartender for another. From the glare of utter and absolute death that Erik was sending his way as he tripped awkwardly across the floor in his glossy black kitten-heels, Charles figured that he was quite cross about something but couldn’t figure out what, and decided instead that all he needed was a good drink to make his eyes smile like they did when they were alone.
He giggled at the image of Erik’s smiley eyes when they made love, as he stubbornly insisted they call it, much to Erik’s feigned annoyance, and they way his lips looked so sexy and swollen from kissing and his toned body glistened with a light shimmering of sweat, glowing like an angel in the low light from their bedside lamp. ‘Beautiful.’
“Sex on the Beach?” He offered with a laugh, blushing at the thought as he motioned for Erik to join his entourage of pretty ladies all clamouring and preening for his attention. Erik flushed a deep scarlet and narrowed his eyes in what Charles was pretty sure was his killing-stare as he stalked forward awkwardly in his heels and dragged Charles over to a dark corner with a grip like steel around his forearm.
“Erik? Wha-” The glare he earned in response was enough to make him swallow the rest of his question and Charles found himself sobering up rather quickly under the weight of Erik’s anger.
“She’s not here Charles.” He hissed slowly, the words feeling like little bullets against his teeth as he pressed the younger man up into the velvet wall covering with a jerk, feeling a slight twinge of satisfaction as he watched Charles’ dazed expression begin to clear at the small stab of pain. “And I don’t appreciate getting dressed up in this ridiculous outfit for your beloved CIA, only to watch you hit on everything within arm’s reach.” The additional ‘that isn’t me’ was left unsaid, but it was quite clear nonetheless.
His eyes blazed into Charles’ and he watched as their blue depths darkened with what he’d recently came to label as pure unadulterated want, and heard Charles’ soft cry as he pressed their bodies closer with a low growl. “You are mine, do you understand me?” Erik swallowed the answering whimper with a bruising kiss as he pushed his thigh roughly between Charles’ own, rubbing firmly against the bulge that was quickly forming in the front of the telepath’s bespoke trousers.
Charles’ surge of panic washed over him like a wave at the thought that anyone had seen what they were doing, but Erik nudged him with the mental reminder that not only were they currently in one of the darkest corners of the club, but Erik was dressed like a woman so they could do this all night long if they wanted to without raising the vaguest hint of suspicion.
“Oh god, yes Erik, please.” The word was little more than a breathy groan and Erik stumbled as Charles arched back against him, hips hot and urgent against his own as Charles’ mouth devoured him whole, arms snaking greedily around Erik’s neck and lower back to pull them flush together with a needy jerk. Clearly the thought of being able to ravish Erik in plain view without using his power to control what the other patrons were seeing, was turning Charles on far more than should be decent.
Panting, Erik managed to pull himself away from the kiss and shook his head, using his legendary self-restraint to keep him from diving straight back in and ravishing Charles right then and there against the wall, uncaring of the world and it’s prejudices if it meant seeing his lover so thoroughly debauched and groaning wantonly into Erik’s touch; his hair sweaty and forming damp curls against Erik’s skin where he fisted it harshly, hips slamming against Charles’ as he took him hardfasttightroughly against the wall, Charles’ perfect English mouth falling open slackly as he cried out wordless pleas against Erik’s throat with eyes glazed and unseeing at the pleasure Erik was giving him.
“No Charles.” His lover’s face fell and his eyes flashed with a hint of rejection before Charles could hide it. He gave a firm nod and then turned to walk away, obviously misinterpreting Erik’s intentions and unable to focus his ability enough to see what he meant. Erik sighed with exasperation and drew Charles back against him, his grip firm in order to prevent Charles from falling over as he ran his fingers gently through the waves of Charles’ soft hair with a small chuckle.
“No, meine liebe. I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant not here.” Erik kissed him as he opened his mouth to complain, taking the opportunity to snake his tongue inside and taste him, warm and sweet from his chosen drink of the night. ‘How could you ever think I wouldn’t want you Charles? I love you, and I think I’d die if we were ever parted. You’re everything pure and beautiful in my life, Charles, and I would never do anything to hurt you.’ He smiled softly as he felt Charles’ rush of delighted surprise echo in his own mind, and he was suddenly engulfed by the tidal wave of lovejoycontentmentdesire that radiated from his lover like a burst of sunlight.
‘Now then, shall we? I think our room will be much better suited for our purpose than here.’ Loudly projecting his ideas of Charles’ punishment for the night’s misbehaviour and complete neglect of his ridiculously outfitted lover, Erik smirked as he felt Charles shiver with desire at the thought of Erik dominating him, marking him, possessing him dressed as he was now. He raised an eyebrow in fascinated delight as he realised that Charles was actually getting off on the thought of Erik in his corset and stockings, and that he’d been deliberately avoiding him all evening to prevent himself from jumping Erik right then and there in front of everyone.
Erik made a mental note of that interesting fact as they pulled grudgingly apart, and snaked an arm around Charles’ slim waist as he ushered him to the door, albeit a tad unsteadily. He couldn’t resist leaning in to trail a teasing lick along the shell of Charles’ left ear and smirked at the shaky gasp such a simple action produced. “I’m going to take you so hard that tomorrow morning, you’ll be wishing your mutation was the ability to fly.” His breath was hot against the nape of Charles’ neck and his lover shuddered deliciously at the promise those words held in store.
‘I want to show the world you’re mine and mine alone.’
Erik didn’t think he’d ever seen a man who’d drunk so much come close to rivalling an Olympic sprinter before, but as Charles hustled him even faster up the dingy stairs to their motel room and practically forced him through their bedroom door before it was hardly open in his need to get Erik naked now, he had to admit that Charles had probably clocked the quickest time ever on record for practically ripping someone’s clothes off and jump-tackling them into bed.