Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1858683.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      X-Men:_First_Class_(2011)_-_Fandom, X-Men:_Days_of_Future_Past_(2014)_-
      Fandom
  Relationship:
      Erik_Lehnsherr/Charles_Xavier, Erik_Lehnsherr/Other_Character(s)
  Additional Tags:
      Prostitution, Underage_-_Freeform, Blowjobs, Angst, PWP
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-06-28 Words: 1779
****** All of me ******
by QuiveringSunset
Summary
     "The boy smokes his cigarette the way fifteen year olds imagine
     supermodels give blowjobs. He has the eyes of a Disney cartoon, pale
     skinned and thin, and he is not at all what Erik expected.
     Even so, the resemblance is uncanny"
Notes
     Basically, Erik hires a Charles!lookalike prostitute and has lots of
     Feels.
     Can take place any time after First Class.
See the end of the work for more notes
The boy smokes his cigarette the way fifteen year olds imagine supermodels give
blowjobs. He has the eyes of a Disney cartoon, pale skinned and thin, and he is
not at all what Erik expected.
"You all right love?" The boy asks. The child, Erik reminds himself, because
there is no way this creature is as old as he swears. Sixteen, seventeen
possibly, though, like his old friend, he too wears the face of one who will
always be mistaken for younger than he is.
There are slight differences to what Erik remembers, of course. His hair is
shorter, for one, cropped closer to his head instead of a messy tumble. His
lips aren't quite as red. And the way they mock-pout makes them something
devious rather than endearing.
Even so, the resemblance is uncanny.
"You keep looking at me like that and we'll be done before we even get
started."
His accent his thicker, but still unmistakably English that the stretch isn't
much effort, and it goes to Erik's head like the alcohol he hasn't touched in
years.
What are the odds, he wonders, of finding one such as this in times such as
these, when everyone is so worried, as well they should be, about the chances
of being caught. He half expects it to be Mystique in disguise, but though she
is masterful there are some things she simply cannot capture. Little nuances
unique to these illicit encounters that would never have entered on Raven
Xavier's radar. The way the boy steps between Erik's thighs where he sits on
the bed to bracket him in, how he takes a drag and blows the smoke through his
nose away from Erik's face, the movement of his hands drifting across his bare
chest to tease at the dip just above his jeans, tight and black...it's all
designed to mislead, to entice the buyer into forgetting that this is all
really quite dangerous. Illegal. Shameful.
Erik had though he'd lost the capacity to feel shame about anything. He is not
relieved to realize he was wrong.
"You're very pretty," the boy says. He hasn't touched Erik once since they came
into the room. Smart little thing, waiting to see what Erik's intentions are
before he commits himself to anything. He stamps out his cigarette and throws
it on the grimy motel carpet. It's a testament to how shitty the room is that
you can't even tell. "Usually I don't get so lucky." Of that, Erik has no
doubt. "My mates are going to be jealous."
Erik takes a deep breath, reaches behind his back to fish his wallet out of his
pants. He doesn't want to scare the boy by using his powers, though his mind
can't help but conjure up an image of this one writhing on the bed, wrists
wrapped in the iron bars from the bedpost. Instead, he withdraws a twenty
dollar bill and holds it up between two fingers for inspection.
The boy's eyes are drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Then he tenses and looks
suspicious.
"I'm not a cop," Erik says. He is so far from a cop that it's laughable.
"You know that you have to tell me if you are."
Oh sweet thing. As if people have to do anything but lie.
"I'm not. I promise."
The boy takes a moment before he snatches the money from Erik's fingers. And
then it's like a switch has been thrown, and he is suddenly crawling into
Erik's lap, scratching across Erik's chest, pressing his mouth to the spot
behind Erik's ear and breathing out, hot and heavy, "Then tell me what you
want, darling."
Erik swallows, brings his hand up and cups the back of the boy's head, moving
him so he looks right into those eyes. Not quite as brilliant, not quite as
there, but it'll do.
"I want you to suck my cock."
The boy's eyes widen slightly, real innocence or feigned Erik can't tell, and
looks down their bodies to where their groins are pressed together, dark denim
against bronzed skin, a swath of gold where the deep purple of Erik's shirt has
risen up to expose a bit of his stomach.
"All right."
And then he's moving, slinking his pale skinny body down Erik's like a coiled
snake, hands pressed to Erik's legs spayed wide, pushing up so his fingers rest
on the juncture between thigh and groin. He looks up at Erik as he reaches for
the zipper, fingers teasing across the hardening bulge and, god, it's all too
much. Erik closes his eyes. He reminds himself that he isn't doing anything
wrong here, not really, other than the obvious. This boy makes his living by
fulfilling the fantasies of men not half as old as Erik, not half as generous.
Whatever scars will be made from this encounter are Erik's to bear, alone, with
as much history and conviction and love as the knife that wields them.
The boy massages Erik through his trousers. "Do you want to know my name?" he
asks. It fills Erik with fear, suddenly, and he almost lashes out, almost grabs
this pretty little thing between his legs and shakes it. But he gets himself
under control, gets himself back to the hazy in-between where this is both what
it is and what it isn't.
"No."
"Hmmm." The boy takes the zipper and pulls it down. He reaches inside and
grasps Erik's boxers, starts tugging them down. "Do you want to give me one?"
"No-" Erik starts to say, then breaks off in a hiss as the boy presses gentle,
wet pressure against the fabric, liking up and down with an expression on his
face like he just did something to win the upper hand and he knows it. Erik's
hands fist in the bed sheets. Let go, I've got you, Erik hears in his head, and
how cruel that the mind remembers these things, memories wrapped in sensations
wrapped in desires.
"Can I know yours?" He's fished out Erik's cock, is working it to full hardness
with slow, measured strokes.
"Erik."
"Erik," the boy says. "You have a fantastic cock, truly, gorgeous."
He cants his hips up so those deft fingers can pull his pants further down,
Erik's hands clenching in the covers. There are little noises now, tiny sighs
and hums of curiosity or pleasure that are too good, too perfect to be
completely fake. When the boy's lips wrap around him and suck him down smooth,
Erik's breath is sharp through his nose. His jaw clenches. It's the prelude to
destruction, the moment when everything metal is his to control -
His thighs tense and the boy hums. One of his hands has travelled up to Erik's
stomach, pressing inside his shirt to feel where his stomach muscles are tight
with the effort of holding steady. A finger ghosts over some battle scar, some
relic, and the fingers are not these fingers, this place is not what it will
never be. And Erik -
Snaps. Fists his hand around the top of that head (and that's why the hair is
so short, so no one can grab onto it), and thrusts up. The boy chokes, and
immediately Erik makes to pull away, an apology on his tongue, but the eyes
hold him fast, watery and red. The eyes say yes while the mouth is stretched
wide, shiny with spit and cum and it's a good thing this is all okay because
Erik isn't sure he could stop, otherwise.
Erik jerks, pushes his hand down, watching the pale back descend with every
press, the knobs of the boy's spine standing out in sharp relief. Everything
sounds wet. He pushes harder, lifts his hips higher, teeth clamping and feet
straining. He's being pulled apart from the inside out, the great Magneto
reduced to a quivering, pathetic, desperate mess only the way pretty English
boys with blue eyes are able.
Erik grunts, twitches, tries to warn. It's almost uncomfortable, the way his
hips dig into the edge of the bed. His eyes are half-lidded in pleasure,
shoulders hunching forward while his hand presses down, faster and faster,
wetter and wetter, the little nose puffing short breaths against his belly, and
god, he hadn't even noticed the freckles -
Erik comes burning alive, wrung out and gasping. As it dies, he spares half a
thought for the boy, though surely unexpected orgasms are par for the course in
his line of work. To Erik's relief, he doesn't seem fazed, just swallows it all
down greedily, taking everything Erik has to offer until he's too tender and
draws the boy off, his softening cock slipping out with a pop. Erik slumps back
onto his elbows on the bed, buzzing with aftershocks.
This is when he remembers why he doesn't do this. Why it really is such a
terrible thing to give in to temptation.
The boy looks ruined, cheeks flushed and eye makeup running. But he also looks
like everything else, all the things Erik has tried to bury under miles and
years and righteousness and anger and hate.
"You alright, love?" Other than his face, the boy is as suave as ever, wiping
his mouth with the back of his hand. Erik nods.
The boy takes in Erik's disheveled appearance, his cock still hanging out of
his unfastened pants, and says, "Want to wait a bit and go again? You can fuck
me if you like."
Erik closes his eyes and rubs a hand over his face.
"No. Thank you."
"You sure? Really, I don't mind." He smirks, overtly ogling Erik's bare
stomach, his strong thighs. "I'll even give you a discount."
Suddenly Erik has the urge to laugh, to open his mouth and just howl at the
absurdity of it all. Even here there is no fairness, no illusion of equality.
It all feels like a joke, some cosmic pissing match that sees fit to dangle his
failures in front of his face, wrap them in promises of relief, no matter how
temporary.
He refrains and offers the boy as kind a smile as he can muster. "I don't think
so."
And god bless him, the boy actually looks disappointed. He checks the money in
his pocket and grabs his smokes. At the door he looks back and Erik is struck
dumb for a moment at the sight, an image like a black and white photograph from
a past that never existed, a context that never fit. "Well, if you change your
mind, you know where to find me."
That's the problem, Erik thinks.
He's always known where to find him.
End Notes
     I wrote this as a writing exercise to challenge myself (I don't
     usually write smut). Now that it's finished, I've realized that I'd
     love to see a Charles version of this with an Erik!lookalike. Feel
     free to run with that, if you're so inclined ;)
     Please let me know what you think!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
so Christmas holiday is a really important
time. So, uh…thanks for being here.” He kissed Jemma softly. “Thanks for being
here instead of being with your family. And thank you, Skye, for spending the
whole holiday with us. It’s been great.”
“Hmmm,” Skye said. “Be at Hogwarts for Christmas again with almost no one there
except freaking May or be with my best friend and his cool mom and cake. Tough
choice. When can I book for next year?”
Pressing her face against his neck, Jemma said, “You know I’d much rather be
here than anywhere else, Fitz. Would have been here sooner if I could have
gotten away with it. Your birthday is very important to me.”
Overwhelmed with affection for both of them, Fitz smiled at Skye as he stroked
a hand through Jemma’s hair, feeling her sigh against his skin. “It still means
a lot to me, so thanks.”
Suddenly standing up, Skye groaned and rolled her shoulders. “If it won’t ruin
the moment, I think I might consider your birthday over for now and head up to
bed. I got up early today.”
“Says the girl who woke me up just as early,” Fitz grumbled under his breath.
“Your mother told me to!”
“I’m pretty sure she did not tell you to break into my room and literally jump
on me.” He looked at Jemma and pouted. “She literally jumped on me.”
Skye rolled her eyes. “I was told that you are a horror in the morning and to
use any means necessary. Those were her exact words.” She caught Jemma’s eye
and grinned. “For the record, I don’t know if you’ve realized this yet, but
your boyfriend has very bony knees.”
Jemma giggled as Fitz just pouted more. “Luckily, I’m not in it for the knees.
Though I’m still a fan.”
Skye stood up lazily, stretching her arms over her head. “Didn’t think I’d have
to spell it out, but I’m trying to give you guys a chance to make out because I
know that’s what you really want to do.” She kicked Fitz lightly as she walked
past the couch. “Consider it my true birthday gift to you.”
As Fitz felt the blush creep up his neck, Jemma grinned at Skye. “Good night,
Skye. I’ll try not to wake you when I come in.”
“Uh huh, sure you will,” Skye said with an exaggerated wink. “Whenever that may
be.”
“Right, uh, night.” Fitz gave her a short wave as Skye headed upstairs.
When they heard the door the guest room close, Jemma wrapped her arms around
Fitz’s neck, beaming brightly at him. “Hi.”
“Hello there,” he murmured, staring at her lips. Before he could even get his
hands fully settled on her waist, she was leaning in to kiss him, pressing her
lips eagerly against his own. As he inhaled the familiar scent of her
honeysuckle shampoo, he licked along her bottom lip and pulled her in until she
was practically straddling his lap. Fitz truly appreciated Jemma’s commitment
to Muggle Christmas with him as he ran his hands over her denim-covered thighs,
thinking how much easier jeans and sweaters were than needlessly getting
tangled in robes.
She bit at his lips playfully, her brown eyes dancing. “I’ve wanted to do this
all day,” she said as if she was admitting a secret.
Nodding, he nestled his head against her shoulder and groaned. “God, you have
no idea. Just felt it probably wouldn’t have been the best idea to totally
ignore my grandparents to snog you.” He kissed her shoulder, working his way
from there up her neck to her jaw. “It was heavily considered though, should be
able to do what I want on my birthday.”
“Do you think they liked me?” she whispered, biting her lip.
“Who? My grandparents? Yeah.” When she didn’t look convinced, he kissed her
softly. “Jem, of course they liked you. Who has ever not liked you? They just
want to see me happy and you being anywhere near makes me happy—because this
being separated for a week thing? Not a fan. And you made lunch!”
“It was just sandwiches,” she said, running a hand through her hair.
He shook his head quickly. “You made my favorite sandwich for my birthday! And
everyone thought it was great. I love your pesto aioli.” Fitz nuzzled her neck.
“You’ve met them before, why are you all worried about it now?”
“Then I was just your friend, Fitz,” she said, linking her hands behind his
head. “Now I’m your girlfriend. It’s different, I want them to really accept
me.”
Smiling affectionately at her, he said, “I promise you that they do.” He kissed
her gently, resting his forehead against hers. “And before you ask, so does my
mum. She was kind of really excited when I told her that we were, you know.
Together. She said it was about time. She and Skye had a good laugh over that
one.”
Bumping her nose against his, Jemma grinned. “Really?”
“Mmhmm.” Fitz kissed her again, sighing against her lips as her torso pressed
against his. “And you know what? Even if they did hate you—which they wouldn’t
because you’re amazing—it wouldn’t matter.” When her eyes fell, he quickly
said, “No, seriously, it wouldn’t matter because I would still be hopelessly,
crazy in love with you. I love you so much, Jemma.”
The smile she gave him was rapturous and Fitz felt his heart skip what must
have been several beats. She took his head in her hands and pulled him down to
kiss him thoroughly, her tongue intimately exploring his mouth as her hips
ground against his. Fitz found himself easing her back onto the arm of the
couch, pressing her into the small mountain of pillows his mother kept there.
Jemma used their new position to rub her foot against his leg, her fingers
tangled up in his curls as he stroked her sides through her sweater, wondering
idly about the amount of layers she had on underneath. It seemed that Jemma had
similar thoughts; he was so wrapped up in scraping his teeth against her throat
and listening to the tiny gasps that she gave that he didn’t realize her hands
were underneath his shirt until he felt her cold skin against his back. He
jumped suddenly at the sensation, trying to cover up his surprise by kissing
her again.
As she kissed him, Jemma lightly scratched her nails down his back, pushing his
shirt and sweater higher and higher as he shuddered. He broke her kiss to tug
on her earlobe gently with his teeth and was rewarded with a moan and rock of
her hips for his efforts. All of a sudden, he was less happy about the lack of
robes. If she did that again—and by the way she was kissing him eagerly, one
hand wrapped around the back of his neck, it seemed extremely possible—she was
going to realize just how excited he was to see his girlfriend on his birthday.
It wasn’t that Fitz had never gotten an erection while making out with her
before, it was just usually easier to hide it when he wasn’t just wearing
trousers and those trousers weren’t pushed up against her and she wasn’t
panting his name into his ear, now how was that possibly fair?
Fitz pushed himself up onto his knees so that he was leaning over her,
desperate to provide a little bit of space to get his thoughts together. This
was not going to work out as well as he had hoped because there she was beneath
him, lips wet and parted and kiss-swollen, her brown eyes dark with pupils
blown wide, her hair wild from his touch. Her hands were still at his waist,
sending tingles through his whole body as her fingers stroked his bare skin
where his sweater had rucked up. “Fitz?” she said in a low voice and he shook
his head to try and rid himself of the thoughts of just how quickly he could
get her out of her clothes.
She removed one hand from his waist to run through his hair, tugging playfully.
“Hey, come back to me,” she whispered.
“Sorry,” he said quickly, kissing her cheek. “You’re just… God, you are so
beautiful.”
That seemed to be a good response because Jemma leaned up and started kissing
his neck, sucking at what she knew to be his favorite spot and replacing marks
that had faded during their time apart. Fitz was eager to return the favor,
tongue quickly finding her pulse point. She keened in the back of her throat
and arched her back, encouraging his lips to follow down the v-neckline of her
sweater. It wasn’t particularly low-cut—it was made to keep her warm, after
all—but as he reached the peak of the v and wished that he could go lower, he
had to shut his eyes and rest his forehead against her chest to stave off the
almost painful hardness that those mental images brought.
“Are…are you tired?” he said suddenly. He hated himself. She was so warm and
soft and he hated himself because soon everything was going to be cold and
alone.
“What?” Jemma blinked at him several times, stroking his cheek with her thumb.
He cleared his throat, then kissed the palm of her hand. “I just thought that
you might be tired. Been kind of a long day. What with celebration and
traveling for you and all that.”
Licking her lips slowly, she said, “Did you think that the two of us should…go
to bed?”
“Well, you know, if you wake up Skye when she’s super asleep, she’s probably
real apt to get cranky. And the guest bed is sort of squeaky, don’t know if you
remember from over the summer.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “Right. Wake up Skye.” She ran her hands over her hair,
trying to smooth it down. “Guess we should go to sleep then.”
He gave her one last kiss and they untangled themselves from each other and
straightened up the couch. Jemma waited for him as he checked to make sure that
the house was locked up, put out the fire, and turned out all of the lights. He
held her hand even for the short trip upstairs and down the hallway to the
guest bedroom. “Goodnight, Jemma,” he said before he kissed her.
“Goodnight, Fitz.” She pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”
“Love you too.” For no real reason except just to enjoy being in her presence
for a bit longer, he waited until she closed the door behind her before he went
into his room, which was right next door at the end of the hall. He put the new
books he had gotten for birthday presents next to his bed and quickly changed
into his flannel pajama shirt and sweatpants—not only was the room chillier
than the living room due to not having the fire, he was suddenly feeling cold
all over from the loss of Jemma.
Fitz was too wound up to sleep right away. It seemed a bit disrespectful to get
himself off to the thought of his girlfriend when she was in the next room
trying to sleep (not that he hadn’t thought of her that way many times before
and hadn’t done the exact thing when she had stayed over the summer which had
led to him feeling lonely and sad and guilty at the time). But she was right
there sharing a bed with Skye—which was a whole different recurring dream that
he was never going to tell her about—and it just didn’t seem right so he was
going to leave it alone tonight. He was one step closer to being an adult now.
He could handle it. Or not handle it, as the case may be.
Instead, he picked up one of his new books, eager to get started with his
reading. Transfiguration had rarely let him down before, at least when it came
to a good distraction. It probably wasn’t something that was going to lull him
to an easy night’s sleep, but it could probably at least get his mind off of
what was really keeping him up.
Fitz was three chapters into the book when he heard a soft rapping at his door.
“Come in,” he said, setting it on his night table.
He grinned as Jemma poked her head in. “Am I interrupting something?” she said,
clutching her floor-length bathrobe tightly up by her neck.
“You can interrupt anything you want,” he said. “But no, of course not. Come
in.” He sat up straighter, leaning back against his pillows and patted the end
of his bed.
She smiled warmly at him and knelt next to where he was sitting, tucking her
legs beneath her. “I know there’s only a few minutes left, but I just wanted to
give you your present before your birthday was officially over.”
Fitz raised an eyebrow at her and held up the book he had been reading. “I
thought the books were my presents?”
“Technically, I consider them your Christmas presents. I just didn’t want to
give you this in front of Skye because I knew she didn’t have anything else for
you and I didn’t want her to feel bad,” she said, crossing her arms over her
chest. “I’ve known you for five years now, Fitz, do you really think after
listening to five years of complaining about how you only got Happy-Christmas-
and-Happy-Birthday-in-one presents that I would do the same thing?” She shook
her head, scoffing. “What kind of girlfriend would that make me?”
He shrugged, smiling to himself. “A pretty awful one. But I would still love
you.” He leaned over and kissed her softly, running his hand through her silky
hair.
“You’re far too forgiving,” she whispered against his lips.
“Yeah, of your nonexistent faults.”
Jemma giggled, then pulled a small wrapped box out of the pocket of her robe.
“Happy birthday, Fitz. I hope you like it.”
He tried not to peel off the paper to quickly; it was actually a fairly nice
wrapping job, with red and gold ribbon wrapped around it and tied into an
elaborate bow and he wanted to respect the effort she put into it. After he
tossed the paper into the bin next to his desk, he opened the box that had been
inside. Resting on a piece of dark blue felt was a gleaming gold pocket watch.
Fitz removed it from the box by its long gold chain, eyeing it carefully. “It’s
beautiful, Jem.”
Her eyes lit up as she watched him. “You like it?”
“Of course,” he said, opening the watch to look at the face. He could tell it
was an older model, but it was still ticking and keeping good time based on his
ear. “Thank you so much.”
“It was my grandfather’s,” she said eagerly, clasping her hands against her
neck. “They were really popular back when he was young. It was supposed to keep
time no matter where you were. That aspect of it hasn’t worked for a long, long
time, I think the spell has worn off.”
“It’s still a great piece,” Fitz said. “I mean, where do I go, anyway?”
She grinned at him. “It was actually part of a set, you know? It was matched
with the watch I wear.” She pushed up the sleeve of her bathrobe to show him
the delicate gold watch he had seen her wear for as long as he had known her.
“This one was my grandmother’s. What was supposed to happen was that the two
watches didn’t only show you the time where you were, but also where its
partner was. They were really popular gifts for couples: wedding presents,
engagement presents, the like. For example, if I’m home and you’re going away
for business, our hearts will still be synced and I’ll still know wherever you
are, that sort of thing.”
He reached out and twisted his fingers through hers, bringing her palm up to
kiss it. “I like that.”
“Hammer Corp tried to revive the concept a few years ago, but with the option
of linking more than just two watches and they also tried to integrate a
messaging option across the faces of the watches—”
“Like texting or paging?”
Jemma shrugged. “I’m not really sure what that is? Anyway, it didn’t take off,
their spellwork was shoddy and their craftsmanship was abysmal, as always. But
I gave it to you because, well, I wanted you to have it, of course, but I
thought that maybe you could work on something similar for Stark? You’re much
smarter than anyone who works at Hammer.”
“Thanks, Jemma,” he said softly. “I really love it.” He gently placed the watch
back in its box and then set it on his bedside table before taking her face in
his hands, and kissing her soundly. She sighed happily against his lips,
scooting closer to him on the mattress. Winding her arms around his back, she
leaned into him as he trailed kisses down her neck, finding her pulse point and
sucking there until she moaned. She clutched at him through the thick flannel
of his nightshirt; he squeezed his eyes shut when his stomach pooled with
warmth and need at the hitch of her breath.
Fitz sunk back deeper into his pillows, drawing her down with him and she went
eagerly. Her lips met his with enthusiasm as her legs bracketed his hips. The
logical part of Fitz, which working at only about 23% at the moment, told him
this was a yet another very precarious position to be in. One of his hands
found Jemma’s hip and she made a low noise in the back of her throat and wow,
he was so far gone at this point. He held her to him as he licked into her
mouth, tasting every little gasp as she leaned as closely to him as she could
get through that thick terrycloth robe.
Pressing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw, Fitz did everything in his power to
keep from bucking up against her hips because that was where he had gotten into
trouble last time. Jemma sighed at his touch, then leaned down to press a kiss
behind his ear before she whispered, “Do you want to have sex?”
His eyes flew open and he sat up rather abruptly, catching her by the shoulders
before she could fall off him. “What? I mean, what?”
“Sex,” she said, pushing her hair back from her face. The way she said it was
confident, but she avoided looking him in the eye. “I thought we would have
sex. I know we haven’t been dating for that long, but I didn’t think that time
mattered all that much to us considering our history. And it’s going to be a
while before we get another opportunity like this, a room with a bed and no
roommates or professors or anything, so I just thought…”
“Sex,” he finished, still trying to get his mind around the concept because the
rest of him was busy being too interested in the concept.
“Oh, right,” she said, and then she untied the knot of her bathrobe. Jemma
pushed the terrycloth material off her shoulders and onto the floor, revealing
a deep red teddy, lined with prim white lace. Fitz had to close his eyes for a
second before he completely lost his mind. “I didn’t want Skye to see,” Jemma
said quickly. “Or, god forbid, risk running into your mother in the hallway.
Plus, it’s very cold here, I’m not quite sure I’m built for Scotland.”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “I think you’re built just fine.” Opening his eyes,
he took in every part of her slowly, greedily, eyes roaming over her body.
Licking his lips, he said, “So, is this part of my birthday present?”
Jemma crossed her arms over her chest (which he couldn’t help but notice in the
lingerie made her boobs look ever better, god, he was the worst). “Well, I
don’t really look at my virginity as a gift to be given, but yes, I was
thinking we could have sex for your birthday. If you wanted. And yes, I am a
virgin. Just to be clear.”
“No, that’s good. Both that you want to have sex and that you’re a virgin. I
mean, it’s not good that you’re a virgin, it’s just good. For you.” Groaning in
aggravation, he tugged at his hair. “You know I’m not good at talking, right? I
can’t think when you look like this.”
She smiled broadly and bit her bottom lip. “You like it?”
He reached down and ran his finger against the lace of the teddy where it
rested on her thigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I like it a lot.” She visibly relaxed at his
praise and one of the thin straps slid down her shoulder. He automatically
reached up to right it, then wrapped his hand around the back of her neck.
“C’mere.”
Jemma bit at his bottom lip before kissing him deeply, licking the roof of his
mouth. Feeling bold, he drew one hand down her side, tracing the curve of her
body before settling low on her hip. She put her hand on top of his, holding
him there as she moved her knee between his legs. He eased back from her,
resting his forehead against hers. “Um,” he said, licking his lips. “I don’t
really know what I’m doing.”
She grinned affectionately at him, running a hand through his hair. “Me either.
But, um, maybe we could take off your shirt?”
Letting out a long breath through his nose, Fitz nodded. As Jemma started to
slowly undo the buttons on his nightshirt, he could feel the nerves rise in his
stomach. He wasn’t built like Steve or Sam or…or Triplett. But Jemma was
smiling as she finished with all the buttons and she placed her hands on his
hips, tracing her way up his torso and chest slowly. Her touch was light, but
engrossed as she drew her hands over his skin. She blushed as she pushed his
shirt off his shoulders, spreading her hands out over his biceps, brown eyes
bright and pupils wide. Fitz leaned in to kiss her softly as he tossed the
shirt off the bed; it landed on top of her robe on the floor.
“You’re beautiful, Fitz,” she whispered, pressing her lips over his heart.
“Me?” He choked back a laugh. “Jemma, you’re…you’re the most gorgeous thing
I’ve ever seen. I can’t even breathe when you’re around sometimes.”
Giggling gleefully, she wrapped her arms around his neck and wriggled into his
lap. He could feel the cool silk of her lingerie against his bare skin and
goosebumps erupted on his arms. Running his tongue across her exposed
collarbone, Fitz held back a grin as she hissed in arousal. Carefully, he
rolled over until she was underneath him, her head resting on his pillow, her
hair tickling his bare arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and raised
her eyebrows at him before kissing him again, sucking on his tongue until he
moaned.
One of his hands ran up her leg, reveling in the smoothness of her skin. He
hesitated when he reached the bottom of her teddy, fingers twisting in the
material. “It’s okay,” she murmured against his jaw. When he looked into her
eyes for reassurance, she just smiled at him and reached down to pull the silk
from his grasp. Then she pulled the lingerie up and off, tossing it casually
across the room.
It took him a second for him to catch his breath, looking at Jemma Simmons
spread out on his bed in nothing more than a red and white lace thong.
Literally everything about her was perfect. She was a lot fitter than he had
even begun to imagine and her breasts were indescribable, bigger than he had
expected, her nipples hard from the cold of the winter night as much as from
arousal. She was watching him expectantly and it took him a moment to realize
that she might be uncertain about her appearance. “You’re amazing,” he said,
kissing her over and over again. “God, you’re so beautiful. And I am so in love
with you. And I’m not just saying that because you’re not wearing any clothes
right now, but because I do love you, more than like, basically anything.” He
buried his face against her neck, holding her tightly.
“I love you too, Fitz,” she said, and he could feel the anxiety leave her as
she ran her nails lightly up and down his arms.
He nuzzled her jaw, pressing kisses to her cheek. “Can I…can I touch you?”
She grinned. “Please.”
“Let me know if I do anything wrong or you don’t like something, okay?” he said
as he sat up, fingers dancing against the side of her ribcage. “I just want to
make sure you’re happy.”
“I trust you, Fitz.”
That, somehow, seemed to place more pressure on him. He moved his hands gently
up to her breasts, palming each of them as she inhaled sharply. One of his
thumbs swiped over her hard nipple and she bit her lip, eyes falling shut. He’d
basically been waiting to touch her breasts since puberty had started—some
minimal over the robe action in an empty Gryffindor common room was the closest
he had gotten thus far—and they were just as amazing as he’d always expected. 
Rolling the mounds in his hands, he listened to her soft sighs to try to judge
what she liked. Suddenly feeling bold, he leaned down and licked her nipple.
“Fitz!” she cried softly. She clutched his pillow in her hand when he did it
again, rolling her hips beneath him.
He opened his mouth to take the tip of her breast inside, sucking on the nub
and rubbing his tongue against it. When her hand came down to grasp his head,
he moved to her other breast, his hand coming up to cover and massage the
previous one so it wouldn’t get cold. Jemma tugged at his hair and arched her
back, practically lifting off the bed. “Fiiiitz….”
Pulling off her breast with a pop, he said, “Yes?” He pressed kisses down the
line between her breasts to hide his smirk as she panted.
“Pants,” she demanded in her bossy prefect voice, pulling at his pajama pants.
“Off. Now.”
Not needing any further prompting, he stood up off the bed and shucked his
sweatpants and boxers. He took a moment to enjoy the view of Jemma spread out
wantonly on his bed, not realizing she was doing the same thing until she
grinned and said, “I didn’t realize you would have such a cute butt.”
He blushed as he knelt back between her legs. She was regarding him with an odd
look on her face and he suddenly felt all of his self-doubt overwhelm him.
“What?” he asked, voice sharp. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m going to suck you off tomorrow,” she said, extremely determined. Fitz’s
jaw dropped as she nodded to herself. “I’d do it tonight,” she continued, as if
such a declaration needed further explanation, “but I’d much rather you fucked
me soon. But tomorrow, yes, I would really like to blow you.”
“’kay,” he squeaked, though he was suddenly feeling far more adequate than he
had before all this started.
She smiled at him. “Kiss?”
He leaned over her and captured her mouth with his, desperately trying to
ignore how it felt to have his erection pressed against the warm skin of her
thigh. Jemma kissed him hungrily and he responded in kind, biting her bottom
lip just enough to sting and then licking it slowly, exactly how she liked it.
He supported himself over her with one hand, the other lightly roaming her
stomach until it reached her breasts, playing with one of them.
“You know,” she said against his lips, “there’s more to me than just boobs.”
“No, no, I know,” he said quickly. He grinned sheepishly. “I just like them a
lot. They’re pretty great boobs.”
She didn’t seem offended as she took his hand and dragged it to where the
string of her thong rested against her hip. “But don’t you want to see the rest
of me?”
Fitz’s blue eyes went wide as he stared at his girlfriend’s face. “Can I?”
As she pulled her hand away from his, she ran her index finger along the side
of his erection; Fitz choked on his moan. “I want you to,” she whispered,
kissing his cheek.
Taking a deep breath, he leaned back and slowly pulled down her panties, not
taking his eyes off the material until it was fully off her legs. It was only
then did he run his hands up her thighs, feel her shiver under his touch. This
was entirely new territory for him and he had no idea what to do. Barely even a
theory of what to do was coming to mind. He briefly wondered if this was
supposed to be instinctual or something. Not having any other notions, Fitz
leaned down and kissed one knee, then the other. Jemma squirmed under his
touch, but it seemed to be a good squirm. His kisses slowly migrated upward and
he could hear a shift in her breathing as he tasted the delicate skin of her
inner thighs beneath his lips.
Looking up to watch her face, he took in how glassy her brown eyes were. Jemma
threw her head back as he ran his finger between her legs. “You’re so wet,” he
said, the words coming out deep and hoarse.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” she said shakily. Her hands
clutched his blanket in fistfuls. “Not just today, but in general. Though I
would have done you on the couch if you hadn’t have stopped me.”
The thought of Jemma imagining them together like this (not to mention the
thought of doing her on his couch) made his blood boil with need and he pressed
an open-mouthed kiss against her hip. She’d been his masturbatory fantasy about
95% of the time—including a recurring wet dream in which they did very wicked
things in the library—but he’d never thought she’d have reciprocal feelings. He
ran his finger through her folds, enjoying her soft moans until he reached her
clit and she suddenly cried out. “Do. That. Again.”
Fitz adjusted his hand so that he was rubbing her clit with his thumb, heel of
his hand having good foundation on her pelvis to give the best pressure. Jemma
moaned into his pillow, rocking her hips into the rhythm he soon created.
Entranced by the look of bliss on her face, Fitz pressed his own hips into the
mattress, hard and needy and so eager to have every part of her.
With that thought on his mind, he drew his other hand between her legs, slowly
pushing a finger into her. She licked her lips slowly, swiveling her hips to
adjust to the feeling of him inside of her. It was only when she nudged him
with her foot did he start thrusting his finger inside of her. She sighed
loudly, biting her bottom lip. He suddenly wanted to kiss her a lot, realizing
belatedly that his mouth was as much a use down there.
He kissed the inside of her thigh before removing his thumb from her clit and
slowly licking it. “God, Fitz!” Jemma called out, slapping her hand over her
mouth. Grinning, Fitz licked a broader stroke from his hand to her clit,
circling it with his tongue before sucking on it like he had her nipples with
still thrusting his finger inside of her. Jemma was moaning almost continuously
now and Fitz felt comfortable enough to add a second finger, watching her face
for a reaction.
Her eyes were half-lidded with lust as she stared at him and she reached down
to hold his head. “Fiiiitz…” He winked at her before pressing his mouth to her,
licking and sucking at her clit. She didn’t taste good, per se, but it was
definitely a taste Fitz was planning on getting used to.
When his hand was starting to get tired, Jemma pulled on his hair. “Come here,”
she begged, voice wrecked. She dragged him up to kiss her and they shared her
taste as she licked inside his mouth.
“What’s wrong?” he said, nuzzling her neck and holding her close.
“I want you.” She kissed him firmly, nudging her nose with his until he looked
into her eyes. “I need you, Fitz, please.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He pressed a kiss to her collarbone before getting to his
knees and reaching to his bedside table, pulling a condom out of the top
drawer. His hands were shaking as he opened the foil package. At her confused
look, he just shrugged. “Muggle contraceptives.”
She seemed to relax at that. “Oh. Oh, good.”
After sliding on the condom, he kissed her again. She pressed her lips across
his chin and cheeks and forehead, hands running over his back lovingly. “Do…do
you want to be on top?” he said, clearing his throat.
Jemma seemed to consider that for a moment, then shook her head. “No, you do
it. I want to watch you.”
Fitz nodded, then swallowed hard around the sudden lump in his throat. As he
positioned himself between her legs, he said, “You’ll tell me if I’m hurting
you or something right? If I’m doing anything wrong?”
“Of course.” She ran her hand up and down his arm soothingly, then stroked his
cheek. “God, I want you so much.”
The vocal reinforcement of her excitement was encouraging as he lined up and
slowly pushed into her. Jemma winced and he waited for a nod before he finished
pushing all the way in. Fitz ran his hands up and down her sides to try and
soothe her, and she held onto his forearms. Eventually, she pulled him forward
and pressed her mouth to his; the shallow kisses allowed her to relax until she
rested her forehead against his. “Okay,” she said softly, rolling her hips
experimentally. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Fitz wasn’t sure he would ever actually be ready, as the heart practically
beating out of his chest was intent to prove, but god did he want nothing more
than to pull out and thrust back into her. Her eyes rolled back into her head
as he did so and he tried to create a steady, easy pace. Jemma’s nails dug into
his shoulders as he panted against her neck, kissing and sucking at the warm,
sweaty skin there, running his tongue along the line of her collarbone. There
was nothing like the feeling of being inside her and he felt like he could live
there forever or go crazy trying.
“Fitz, Fitz, yes, god, Fitz,” she moaned into confines of his room, one leg
wrapping around his waist to spur him on. “Faster.”
Holding on to her hip tightly for balance, Fitz thrust into her quickly until
she was keening in the back of her throat. “You like that, Jem?” he said into
her ear.
She nodded and turned her face towards him so he could capture her lips in a
searing kiss. He groaned in the back of his throat as one of her hands gripped
his butt, urging him deeper inside of her. Adjusting his position onto his
knees, he held her hips in each hand, pulling her up to meet him as he thrust
downward. Jemma squeezed her eyes shut and panted approvingly at the new angle,
reaching up to grab his headboard.
Already he could feel himself nearing completion, but he was eager to wait her
out. Nothing was as important as seeing the look of absolute ecstasy on Jemma’s
face. Considering his options, he adjusted the angle again, kissing her mouth
quickly before supporting himself on his elbows and leaning down to suck on her
breast. He could instantly feel the change in how Jemma reacted to his touch
and his thrusts, hips meeting his harder as she carded her hands through his
curls. He bit and sucked on her nipple, listening to her mewls of pleasure.
“Fitz,” she said, wrapping one arm around the back of his shoulders. “Fitz,
please, I’m so close.”
“What do you want?” He pressed a kiss to her breastbone, urging himself to hold
out just a bit longer. “Whatever you want, baby, I’ve got you.”
“Just…just don’t stop,” she said, pulling him up to kiss her. He licked inside
her mouth eagerly, doubling his efforts at pushing into her as the bed squeaked
and rocked under his strength. She sucked on his bottom lip and he stroked her
cheek until she suddenly went still and then shuddered beneath him, breaking
the kiss to moan out his name. He opened his eyes to see her face shot with
pleasure as she rode out her orgasm. Fitz kissed her shoulder through her
frenzy, his hand cupping and squeezing her breast to heighten the pleasure of
the moment for her. A couple strokes later and he was done too, coming inside
of her with his face buried in his neck, repeating her name over and over again
as she rubbed his back.
When he finally collapsed halfway on top of her, he was sweaty and exhausted
and happier than he could ever remember being. Jemma leaned down to kiss the
top of his head and he smiled against her chest. It took a minute for him to
get enough strength to get up and dispose of the condom, but after he did so he
climbed back into bed next to her, pulling the blanket up and over them so
neither succumbed to the Scottish winter chill.
Jemma immediately snuggled up to his chest and he wrapped his arms around her,
stroking the top of her arm. “So…” he said, clearing his throat. “That was
okay, right?”
She laughed against his neck, still trying to catch her breath. “I thought it
was more than okay.”
“You came, right? I don’t know if I’m supposed to ask that, but—”
“Yes, Fitz, I came.” She urged his head down to kiss her softly. “I had a very
good orgasm, thank you.”
“I just wanted to make sure,” he said, blushing. “I mean, I thought you did,
but I guess you can never be too sure, and it was really important to me that
you did. And if you didn’t, we can fix that, we can have a…a do over or
something.”
She raised her eyebrows in interest. “A do over, huh?” She trailed her fingers
down his side until he came to rest low on his hip; his dick twitched, but did
little else. “You want a do over now?”
He coughed. “I mean, not…not right now now, but maybe in a little bit I could…?
Or I’ve got hands if you need them?”
Shaking her head, she laughed and kissed him. “I’m actually very pleased, but
thank you. Tomorrow though. After I blow you.”
Suddenly looking very forward to tomorrow, he wrapped his arms around her
tightly. “You going to sleep here tonight?”
“Was sort of planning on it,” she said, using his shoulder as a pillow. “That a
problem?”
“Not to me. My mum knows better than to barge in here or anything. I just
didn’t know if you would want Skye to realize you were gone all night.”
“Oh, Skye will figure it out anyway.” Jemma rolled her eyes. “She’s always
getting into our business.”
“Plus, you’re going to tell her.”
“That too.” She grinned cheekily at him and kissed the tip of his nose.
As they got comfortable on his pillows and turned out the light, Fitz stroked
her stomach gently, continuing to revel in her softness. “So, this was
basically the gift ever.”
Jemma snorted and pushed his shoulder. “Well, Happy Christmas and happy
birthday too.”
“You’re the best gift ever,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “I love you,
Jemma.”
“I love you too, silly man. Go to sleep.”
And he did, holding her in his arms all night.
-----
When they went downstairs the next morning, Skye was already sitting at the
kitchen table with a piece of cake and a cup of coffee in front of her. “Good
morning, Skye,” Jemma said cheerfully. She frowned at the cake. “I thought
Fitz’s mum said we were supposed to have a proper breakfast.”
“Bite me,” Skye said before taking eating significant chunk of cake, licking
the excess frosting off her fork.
“What’s wrong with you this morning?” Fitz said, raising his eyebrows at Jemma.
“Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Frowning, Fitz said, “Something wrong with the bed?”
“Something wrong with the law against underaged magic that you two can’t put a
freaking silencing spell on your room.” She glared at Jemma, shaking her head.
“My god are you loud. You do realize I was in the next room right? There are
some things a person just can’t sleep through.”
Jemma blushed a deep red and Fitz coughed into his hand. “We…we’re very sorry,”
Jemma said, covering her face with her hands.
 “We’ll try better next time?” Fitz suggested as he sat at the table, giving
her a weak smile.
“Damn right,” Skye muttered. “I mean, I know it was your birthday, but
sheesh.” 
Unable to meet Skye’s gaze, Jemma just turned from the table and started
pulling things from the cupboard. “I am going to make some tea!” she said,
voice an octave higher than usual as she filled the kettle. “And then
breakfast! Eggs and toast and bacon!”
Skye just shook her head and ate the last bite of her cake before cutting
another slice and sticking it on a napkin, sliding it over to Fitz. “Congrats
on the sex,” she mock whispered.
Grinning to himself, he popped a piece of cake in his mouth and said, “It was
worth congratulating.”
Jemma gave a small squeak as she cracked eggs into a bowl and Skye groaned.
“Okay, I do not need to hear that from you.” Casting a sidelong glance at
Jemma, she said, “Maybe from you. Later. After I’ve had a nap. During which I’m
sure you two will be getting your freak on again, but I’m going to request you
do it softly. I’m not sure how kinky you two are, but may I suggest a gag?”
The kettle whistled at that moment and Fitz took that opportunity to get up and
fetch it. As he poured the tea, he saw Jemma glancing at him out of the corner
of her eye. “She might not hear us if we’re on the couch,” she murmured quietly
as she beat the eggs together. “Or if I’m blowing you. I do still want to do
that.”
Fitz’s jaw dropped but he quickly recovered, smiling and kissing her firmly. So
far, this was by far his greatest year ever.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!