Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2687696.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      X-Men:_First_Class_(2011)_-_Fandom, X-Men:_Days_of_Future_Past_(2014)_-
      Fandom, Captain_America_(Movies), The_Avengers_(Marvel_Movies), Star_Wars
      Episode_VI:_Return_of_the_Jedi
  Relationship:
      Erik_Lehnsherr/Charles_Xavier, Steve_Rogers/Tony_Stark
  Character:
      Erik_Lehnsherr, Charles_Xavier, Hank_McCoy, Raven_|_Mystique, Armando
      Muñoz, Emma_Frost, Kurt_Marko, Sharon_Xavier, Logan_(X-Men), Azazel_(X-
      Men), Janos_Quested, Steve_Rogers, Tony_Stark, Natasha_Romanov, James
      "Bucky"_Barnes, Sam_Wilson_(Marvel), Jek_Tono_Porkins, Han_Solo, Leia
      Organa, Lando_Calrissian, Wedge_Antilles
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Star_Wars_Fusion, Gratuitous_Star_Wars_References,
      BAMF_Charles, Age_Difference, Partial_powers, mentions_of_abuse, Fluff
      and_Crack, Porn_With_Plot, First_Time, Hand_Jobs, Blow_Jobs, Rimming,
      Anal_Sex, Intercrural_Sex, Public_Sex, Rough_Sex, Soooooo_much_sex,
      necessary_for_the_story_sex, essential_for_the_plot_line_sex, inherent_to
      character_development_sex, I_just_don't_want_anyone_to_be_surprised_that
      there_is_sex_in_this_fic, and_crack_-_both_the_butt_kind_and_the
      ridiculous_literature_kind, Light_BDSM
  Collections:
      Secret_Mutant_Exchange_2014
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-11-29 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 18047
****** Got a lead brain; it's a battle magnet. ******
by letosatie
Summary
     When Charles Xavier was seventeen, he ran away from his home planet
     with the love of his life, the tech repairman Erik Lehnsherr. He left
     behind a dangerous home life, expectations of ruling his planet and
     the down-spiraling tangle of politics in the Republic.
     Now years later, and light years away, they live happily, bringing in
     criminals for money. But politics reach every corner of the galaxy
     and Charles and Erik may be involved, like it or not.
     (This summary totally makes it sound like there is a plot!)
Notes
     Title from Healing Hermann Hesse, by Buddy Wakefield
      
     Happy secret mutant Kage!
     For a prompt from Kageillusionz - who wanted bounty hunting, space
     travelling Charles and Erik; although she wanted a serious piece of
     dystopian fiction and I tried to fulfil that but these two horny
     arseholes insisted on screwing in all the galactic environments. I
     pleaded with them to stop, even crying, "Won't somebody please think
     of the children," but Erik servo-cuffed me to the lap top and Charles
     Jedi mind tricked me into writing flattering things about Erik's
     penis. So you see my hands were tied... or cuffed.
      
     This fic wrote itself, so any remaining spelling mistakes, poor
     grammar and tired simile are all on the fic's shoulders and the
     author gets away scot-free. Mwahahaha.
***** Prologue *****
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…
On a farming planet, a fifteen year old boy fell desperately in love with the
local technology expert. At least once a week he would crash his speeder, or
his droid would malfunction, or his holo comm unit would have been dropped in
the fountain, by accident, and he would turn up at the grimy workshop, which
was dim and still and recusant to the frantic heat outside, and gaze at the
techie in wide-eyed awe. And the technician would smile, fond and feral, and
say, “What is it this time Charles?”
And Charles would stutter through his techno-damage confession until Erik
grasped his shoulder and said, “I can fix it. Perhaps you would like to wait at
the diner across the speeder way while I work?”
But Charles always whispered, “That’s okay. I’d rather help.”
Erik would nod and get to work and Charles would hand him things, jumping when
their fingers brushed, and try not to get caught staring at the dribbles of
sweat trailing down Erik’s neck, sliding over the jut of his collarbone and
taking refuge in the mythical territory beneath Erik’s shirt.
While Erik worked, he gently pried for information and Charles told him about
his studies in horticulture, agriculture and politics and how he was expected
to take over the planet. How his dad had been really good at running things and
how Charles couldn’t even get his mum and step dad to listen to him, how was he
going to get the populace to respect him? Sometimes, Charles tried to find out
about Erik, but Erik rarely answered a question about himself, although, he did
always explain everything he was doing regarding the repair.
“How come you’re so good with tech?” Charles asked him once.
“I just am. I can intangibly hear them telling me what’s out of place.
Sometimes, but I can never control when, I can move things with magnetic
properties.”
“I bet you have a high midi-chlorian count,” said Charles, “I do. The Jedi came
and tested me and offered me a Padawan place but I needed to be here ‘cause I’m
the only kid in the first family.”
One particularly steaming day, Erik shrugged his shirt off and Charles stopped
speaking mid sentence, losing the capacity to even attempt subtlety. His jaw
sagged open and he blinked rapidly. Erik had a chest that curved in convexes,
which Charles was willing to bet were the exact fit of Charles’ hands. His
abdomen was a series of ripples smoothing out to an indented V pointing,
Charles was sure, to somewhere he probably shouldn’t be licking his lips while
eyeing.
Erik looked at him sternly, “How old are you, Charles?”
Charles was red and his head was buzzing. He said, with a valiant jerk of his
chin, “I just turned sixteen.”
Erik pulled his shirt back on. “You’re too young to look at me as if you intend
to eat me.”
And Charles, frustrated and embarrassed, demanded, “Well, when then?”
“Let’s start,” suggested Erik, pushing Charles’ repaired macrobinoculars into
the boy’s hands, “with you managing to not break anything for a month.”
Charles stormed out of the workshop on his remaining dignity. He spent four
weeks torturing himself with ‘what ifs’, annoying his mother and his best
friend, Armando, with his petulance, slamming doors and driving unnecessarily
fast.
He stalked into the workshop at the close of the month and said, as Erik looked
up, “What’s next?”
Erik’s expression was indiscernible, but he wasn’t frowning. He met Charles in
the middle of the workshop floor and said, “Well done.” Then, he smiled, and
Charles’ anger oozed like caramel into adoration. Erik pressed his thumb on the
edge of Charles’ mouth. Charles thought he was going to be kissed for the first
time, but Erik stepped back and said, “How good are you with a blaster?”
“I’m okay,” said Charles, “Why?”
Erik had already turned back to the droid he was working on. “Come back when
you can shoot five moving targets, in under a minute, while running.”
It took Charles another four weeks. Climbing the Paurev rock face took three.
Making a broken filter unit work again took him two. Shifting a Hutt one metre
by hand took him six, although half of that time was spent convincing a Hutt to
let him try.
“Can you do the old pod race circuit by Haller’s farm on your speeder bike in
under seven minutes?”
“Yes,” said Charles.
“Let’s see it then,” said Erik, shrugging on a tunic and shawl and collecting a
timepiece from near the door.
He swung his leg over his immaculately restored Zepher-G swoop, and pulled on
his gloves and goggles. Charles rushed to emulate him, mounting his own bike,
heart flickering, brain jerking to catch up, and they drove out to the rock
arch, which signaled the start of the popular racetrack.
Erik held up the piece. “Ready?” he asked, and grinned.
“Ready,” Charles confirmed, and grinned back.
“Go!”
The hilly terrain fell behind him, streaming in his vision. Charles’ knuckles
were sharp on the steering vane. Erik’s swoop was right behind Charles’ but he
didn’t spare a glance, he only knew because he could hear Erik whooping. He was
elated; weaving around trees so close the bark of one snagged his jacket,
letting his FC-20 drift up at an angle against a bank during a turn.
He passed the end point of the circuit and eased the vehicle down to a full
stop. Erik pulled up next to him.
“How’d I do?” he asked, still grinning insanely. Erik held the timepiece up,
which read 6.37min, and grasped Charles’ face and kissed him. Charles froze for
the tiniest moment and then threw his arms around Erik’s graceful neck and
kissed him very enthusiastically back. It was an electric but brief first kiss
as it became obvious Charles had not taken his bike out of gear. There was a
jolt of undesired speed, ending with Charles in the dirt and the FC-20 in a
ditch.
“I’m not going to fix that,” said Erik, when he’d ascertained Charles was
uninjured.
Charles blanched. “Erik, you know my step father will… well, you know how he
is. And it was a little bit your fault.”
“You are going to fix it; in my workshop, I’ll advise. And when you’re done,”
he paused to kiss Charles again, “when you’re done, I’ll let you take my shirt
off.”
“Deal,” agreed Charles, and kissed Erik some more because… well, the speeder
bike was broken anyway.
The repair was prolonged, this despite Charles’ quick brain and parts for an
FC-20 being easily and cheaply found in any wreckers, thanks to their
popularity among teenagers. But Charles only managed to get to the workshop two
or three times a week, Erik refused to do any work on the bike in between
visits, and at least half of the repair time was redirected into snogging.
Charles was now more comfortable in the workshop with Erik than he was in his
opulent, childhood home. In the grimy cluttered workshop, there were no
oppressive expectations, no jealous and violent step brother, and no
disappointed mothers; just Erik sharing knowledge without the intention to
improve him, cherishing his attention and laughing at something he’d said.
And then the FC-20 was fixed. It tutted into life and purred at Charles, its
previously dented panel smooth and shiny. Charles’ chest was tight with
accomplishment, his cheeks stinging against the width of his grin. He looked
over to Erik, who was wiping his hands on a rag and laughing.
Charles killed the engine. “I did it,” he said.
“Yes, you did,” said Erik. He flapped the hem of his long sleeved shirt, so
Charles could see flashes of belly and a waistband, before opening a door
Charles had never been through and tipping his head in invitation. Charles
followed him into a compact room with a sleeping platform under the only
window, a bench and sink for food preparation, with a stool to eat on next to
the bench, and a separate wash area behind another door. The whole area was
smaller than the library at Charles’ house, but Erik flung his arms wide
dramatically in presentation.
“Welcome to my palace,” he said, with just enough pride under the joking tone
to remind Charles he still didn’t know anything of Erik or his past.
And Charles thought, for the first time, how good it felt to have accomplished
something independently. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” said Erik, reading his face.
Charles nodded and Erik flicked his shirt hem again, “Want to see what you’ve
won?”
Charles nodded, and Erik pulled the shirt over his head. Charles wasn’t aware
of moving forward, or raising his hands; he was aware of the heat of Erik’s
skin and the firmness of the muscle under his palms, of the salty taste and the
varying patches of rough and smooth on his tongue, of Erik’s fingers spanning
Charles’ skull and the thumb in the indent behind his jaw.
Erik, who had been telling himself for over a year that he could break away
from the annoying, rich kid at any time, was now drenched with the dizzying
conviction that he was cradling his future between his two hands, and for a
moment his body curled in on itself in fear.
Charles lifted his mouth from its achingly thorough circuit of Erik’s nipple.
His fingers were curved into the side ties of Erik’s trousers. He said, “What
do I have to do to get these off?”
Erik looked down at him heavy lidded. He said, husky and desperate, “Say
please.”
There was a flash of victory in Charles’ next heartbeat. It reflected in his
complicated blue eyes, and Erik sagged slightly. Charles said, “Please,” with
more swagger than supplication, and dragged the ties open without further
permission. The fabric slithered down Erik’s long legs and Charles put his
reverent hand around the shaft of Erik’s erection.
“You’re hard,” he said, wonderingly, “I made you hard.”
Erik groaned and steered Charles onto the sleep platform. He peeled Charles’
jacket and tunic off him, then his pants. Charles became quiet, lying stunned
until his cock was exposed, when he blushed and covered it with his hands.
Erik laughed then, “I want to see it. Can I?”
Charles trembled and moved his hands, head firmly focused on the late afternoon
light rays panning across the wall.
“Charles,” Erik demanded, “Touch me.”
Charles could do that. He sat up and gripped Erik’s hips, any lingering shame
and hesitancy dissipating and he applied his hands and mouth to the body Erik
had made him wait for. Charles discovered, happily, the light covering of hair
on Erik, which bent under his restlessly moving hands only to flick back
moments later. He discovered Erik's taste was even better than his aroma.
When Charles had relaxed, Erik climbed onto the sleep platform and onto him,
sliding his hands under his shoulder blades to angle Charles’ neck and
collarbone just so for Erik’s tongue and teeth. Charles body was pliant but his
nerves where raw bristles: the touch on his hip rippling magically up his back
and tickling his scalp, the nip on his chest provoking involuntarily intakes of
breath and pleading sounds. He absorbed the awesome sight of Erik’s narrow
steel body pressed close on his smooth, unformed one. Charles was strong, but
he could see no visual evidence of it, not compared to how Erik’s muscles and
ligaments were transparent under the taut, grease and sweat-slicked skin.
But he saw Erik’s smile, like they were each others’ secret, and the cock in
the circle of his fingers was unfailingly hard as Erik’s investigation of
Charles continued and then the only thoughts Charles had room for anymore were
about how incredible his life had suddenly become.
Erik began to growl into Charles’ hair and shoved the boy’s hand out of the
way, wrapping both of them together so Charles could feel his cock sliding
between Erik’s immutable erection and his swift, cascading fingers.
He had no warning but a bolt of smarting heat racking along his spine and he
arched, shoving against Erik once and he whimpered as everything good pulsed
through his every inch for too long and too short a time. Erik whispered, “Yes
Charles, yes,” and bit hard on Charles’ shoulder. The sting of it had Charles
rocking off the platform with an aftershock.
He panted for a few seconds and then was abruptly pure red impulse. He pushed
up to sit on his feet, moved Erik up opposite, their knees slotted like teeth
on cogs, and he tugged, reckless and rough, on Erik’s cock while the techie
swore and growled and clutched Charles’ shoulders. Erik tossed his head back.
He came, paused like the instant before entering hyperspace. Charles rubbed his
fingers through the spurts that had hit his stomach. His skin was paler than
the pearl of the come.
Erik was leaning back on the wall, watching Charles sleepily. “Can you sneak?”
he asked.
“Where,” Charles replied.
“Next time you come here, it will be undetected. You won’t miss your studies or
feign illness. You will sneak out under their noses. When you do, we’ll do that
again.”
“Deal,” said Charles.
+++
It took him a long time though. His step dad, Kurt, was jumpy. There was
disturbing news through the holo comm from Coruscant, a movement against the
Republic. The Jedi council had assured the senate they were investigating the
rumours. But although Kurt loved the privilege associated with power, when
decisions were forced on him he became stressed, even the threat of a major
choice made him violent and nasty.
Charles watched his timepiece tick over. Early, early morning. Everyone should
be asleep. The silence made the house seem ancient, which it was, but the
bustle of life in the daytime draped a see-through robe of currency over it.
Charles slipped the door open on his room, glared through the dark at the
neighbouring doors to ascertain their being at home in their frames, then
squeezed out into the hallway and inched the door closed.
As he crept down the corridor, slowly, smoothly, his body was a battlefield;
the stifling fear of being caught struggling against the reckless desire to see
Erik, the impatience to see that face, touch that body again combating his
caution. He left the enclosure of the house, skirted around the courtyard,
trusting the shadow to hide him, and went through the paddock wall by the iron
gate. He trekked as softly as possible through two fields before he found a
bantha and mounted it, swinging a steering halter over it’s head.
The rest of the way was easy enough, though he lay low on the beast, in case,
and tipped his hood up. He tied it to a fence on the edge of town and walked
the not-quite-sleeping streets on foot, chin to his chest.
He knocked on Erik’s door and shuffled impatiently to the sounds of grumbling
and stumbling approaching him inside the house. When the door opened, he was
yanked inside and into Erik’s arms.
“That took forever,” Erik said as he closed the door.
“It took two weeks.”
“For. Ever,” corrected Erik, “Make it up to me.”
“Absolutely,” said Charles and did his inexperienced best.
And it wasn’t that difficult actually, he merely acted out the things he’d been
imagining doing to Erik when he wriggled his sleeping pants down in bed and
pulled slow then fast at his cock. He was made brave in the closeness of the
dark and by the encouraging, rumbling sounds Erik made. He touched, and
tentatively sucked, and rolled over and squeezed his thighs around Erik’s
slicked cock, rocking back and panting and smearing his shocking orgasm on the
sheets.
Charles spent most late afternoons with Erik after that, and some midnights. He
was unable to keep his extreme happiness completely concealed and Armando was
soon asking clever questions. Eventually, Charles confessed. They were in the
vaulted library in town, studying, and Armando put a pile of large books on
Charles’ lap and leaned on them refusing to move until Charles told him why he
was humming and smiling to himself.
“I’m seeing someone,” Charles said, going hot and red. “I can’t believe it
really, can’t believe he even wants to talk to me let alone kiss me.”
“Charles, that’s great,” Armando said, removing the stack of books. “Why
haven’t you said?”
“I don’t know. Like I said, it’s surreal. Also, he’s a bit older.”
“How much older?” asked Armando, wary.
“He’s…” Charles sighed, studied the table top carefully, “twenty-two.”
“That’s six years, Charles,” Armando calculated, faintly. Charles had nothing
to say for himself. “Is he… is he human? I don’t care so much, but seriously,
man, your parents will lock you in a stasis cell if you’re seeing another
species.”
“He’s human.”
“Thank the almighty force,” whispered Armando, and it was a prayer not a curse.
“Well look, I’m happy for you, brother, but you be very careful how you go
about telling Kurt.”
“I will,” said Charles, but he no longer seemed blissful.
When Charles arrived at the workshop with scrapes and bruises again, Erik
slammed his screwdriver down.
“That’s enough,” he roared, “Why won’t you let me go up and deal to them. I
can’t look at you like this any more.”
“Erik…” Charles said, tiredly.
“Charles.” Erik sank to the floor, pulling Charles with him. “Please.”
“You’ll be arrested or have to leave the planet and it won’t change anything.”
Erik was silent, his head buried in Charles’ neck now. “If only we were on
Naboo,” Charles mused, “I’d have ruled and been retired by now. But here, I
don’t become of ruling age until I’m two decades out of nappies.”
“That’s five years,” Erik pointed out, muffled. Charles pressed his lips to the
top of Erik’s hair.
Erik slid his hands along Charles’ jaw. “I can’t keep you safe,” he admitted.
“I don’t need to be kept safe,” Charles said. “I just need to be taken
seriously, and you already do that.”
He kissed Erik, who followed him into the back room, grabbing for him and being
evaded until they reached Erik’s sleeping platform. Here Charles connected with
Erik’s kiss forcefully. He prodded Erik horizontal and climbed up to straddle
him. He pushed Erik’s arms until his hands curved over the storage sill. “Keep
them there,” he murmured, and Erik let out a wordless question. “Until I say,”
Charles answered.
Erik lay still because if Charles needed to be in control of something, it
could be him for now. His clothes were all pulled aside, Erik’s torso
thoroughly investigated and played with. Erik could see wonder and lust and
sometimes earnestness illustrated by Charles’ eyes gone wide, then half lidded,
then capped by three small creases appearing between them. Erik shifted his
leg, bent his knee. “Hey,” protested Charles, having been shunted forward onto
Erik’s erection.
“Charles, you sexual sith. Touch my cock. I’m begging.”
Charles flicked him a look of concession and collusion, and Erik smirked even
while a dizzying sense of dislocation hit him along with the realisation that
he’d given this same vixen his first kiss only a year before. Charles was a
quick study. Erik would do something in bed to him, and the next day it was
being returned to Erik, a new tool in Charles’ deeply satisfying repertoire.
Currently, he was doing this thing, on Erik’s balls, with his mouth, that Erik
hadn’t taught him, he was simply a natural. Erik’s long leg was bent, knee to
the ceiling; his shoulder blades rubbing restlessly on the sheets. He felt his
balls lift on Charles’ tongue and both his feet left the bed, twitching like
the cock, which had just jerked off his stomach.
“Erik,” said Charles, appearing above him. “Can I fuck you? Please?”
They’d not done that before. Erik didn’t want to push, held back by a guilty
conviction that Charles needed protecting not ravishing, and although recently
Charles had been playing with Erik’s hole and guiding Erik’s fingers to his, it
was still a surprise.
“Yes,” said Erik, switching from stunned to enthusiastic, pod race fast.
“Definitely yes.”
Charles smiled and Erik would do anything for one of those smiles. He lay back
and spread his legs as wide as possible, while Charles fumbled for the
lubricant they sometimes used on thighs or hands. When Charles found it and
looked up at Erik’s filthy position, he looked more excited than the time Erik
had let him drive the Zephyr, but suspiciously not as nervous.
“It’s been awhile, Charles,” he said in warning.
“It’s been since never for me Erik. I’ll do my best but you tell me, promise
you’ll tell me, if I do it wrong.”
“It’s our first time, my eager jax, not our only time.”
“I want you to feel good,” Charles said, sliding slippery fingers between
Erik’s legs. He tapped on the little ring of muscle, which was drawn up tight
against him. Erik bucked towards him, so he tapped some more. He pressed his
middle finger in just a bit, checked Erik, who nodded, then pushed it further.
“Oh,” he said faintly, watching it open-mouthed like it was holo theatre, “that
is so awesome.”
Erik chuckled. Charles blushed and started to move the finger. Erik was being
all knowing and instructive, “Just left and then… curl your finger a bit, yep
that’s good…” until Charles frowned a bit and shoved. Erik said, “Ugk,” and
clutched for Charles’ bicep. “Yes, yes, like that, please, again, Charles.”
Charles smirked, and did it again, and again, over and over, added a finger and
added another, while Erik groaned and his body snatched any contact, until Erik
couldn’t remember ever being composed or capable; he had always been Charles’
slave, craving more, or less, or whatever he could get.
“You okay, Erik?” asked Charles.
“Don’t stop,” Erik begged him.
“Just a second,” he soothed, while rapidly substituting his fingers with his
slicked, impatient cock.
Erik panted through it, watching Charles’ eyes widen and widen and then sink
closed with a sigh. Charles kissed him and started to move while still sucking
Erik’s lip. “You feel amazing. Erik. I can’t even believe I get to do this with
you.”
“Don’t get… to not. Do this. Now” was the stilted but urgent reply.
Charles drove into him rhythmically at first and then wildly. Erik began to
pump himself. Charles’ eyes got wider watching Erik’s large hand squeeze and
stroke himself off. “That is so hot,” he groaned, and slammed into Erik, from
tip to hip, crying out a prolonged shout of victory and relief.
Erik's fuse was lit from the inside, from the outside, from the sight of
Charles’ open-mouthed bliss above him. It was a short fuse and he bucked up
with Charles’ cock still in him, come unfurling from him in ribbons.
“I may have encouraged you to take charge a little too well,” Erik observed,
when he could think of thoughts other than, ‘Fuck,’ and vague stupid
appreciation.
Charles was curled around Erik, being the big spoon. He was stroking Erik’s
flank as if he were a skittish tauntaun.
“Charles,” said Erik.
“Yes.” They both were drowsy.
“I could sell the shop and buy a small ship. We could leave Xeodantra for five
years.”
“What?”
“Is there anywhere in the galaxy you ever wanted to see?” suggested Erik.
“Corusant, Alderaan, Sea Base 2000, Abersaith Aviary?”
Charles laughed nervously. “What is it really? Not sightseeing. Is it keeping
me safe?”
Erik shifted uncomfortably. “Well, not quite like that. More like… you’re being
funnelled into being a certain person. And it will work for what you need to
do. But… don’t you want to see what you might be like… out of the Xeo mold?”
“That’s so noble,” Charles said, cuddling up closer, “I was just thinking
‘because hanging out with you is more fun than anything else I do,’ was a good
enough reason.”
“So you’ll come with me?”
“Nup,” said Charles.
Erik rolled over to stare at him with half heartbreak and half exasperation in
his glare.
Charles cupped his jaw. “We’ll go together. We’ll do everything together now.”
***** Bounty hunters *****
Erik looked up from their spaceship’s control panel to where Charles was
reading a holo file.
“Charles? Why are you re-reading that file?”
“Just being thorough, Erik.”
“Only I get to read that file from now on, I think,” said Erik, holding his
hand out for the chip, imperiously.
“I was thinking… that trick he has of using the force to create tornadoes is
only applicable on a habitable planet, so he probably carries a weapon for use
in space or somewhere with no atmosphere.”
“Good point,” Erik allowed.
“I volunteer to frisk him,” said Charles, “thoroughly. Take one for the team.”
There was a husky, growling sound from the pilot’s seat.
“Seriously,” continued Charles, waving at the file, “look at his buttcheeks.
I’ll bet he conceals a weapon betwixt those buttcheeks. It’d be careless not to
check.”
The ship altered course.
“What are you doing? Erik?”
“I’ve decided we don’t need the bounty for this Quested fellow after all.”
“I’m teasing, darling. One can’t really conceal items between buttcheeks,” said
Charles, shutting the file down. “Unless you disagree? Perhaps you could put us
back on course, and autopilot, and come prove me wrong.”
The constellation markers outside moved again. A series of beeps and a stream
of aurebesh on the consol told them the autopilot had been engaged.
The captain left his post and scooped up the crew, muttering about how he’d
worried about keeping certain menaces safe and all this time his own person was
the body in real danger and certain menaces had no right to terrorize innocent
bounty hunters.
He carried the menace to the bunkroom, waited for the door to glide side-ways
into its recess. The original bunk space was utilised as storage, one full of
books, the other scattered with technology or metal trinkets, and the
mattresses and blankets covered the floor. On these, the vexing crewmember was
unceremoniously dumped, where he bounced slightly and looked up from their bed
with pure evil shining from a smooth face of angelic naivety.
‘Fuck,’ thought Erik, ‘at what point did I lose control of my life?’
Charles was on his stomach, having managed to slip his waistband down over his
hips and was grasping his bare arse and saying, “What do you think, Erik, think
you could fit something in here?”
Erik was often left speechless in the face of Charles’ audacity; he just tended
to take action. He was the master of grunt, step in and overreact. So grunt he
did, and step forward he did, and spread that ridiculously appetizing arse he
did. Charles moaned when Erik’s tongue drummed at his hole and Erik conceded it
was a sound that could entice him to the dark side of the force.
Six years had changed Charles more than a simple increase in moxie. His thighs
were thicker, with so much power, Erik sometimes feared snapping in two when
they squeezed around him. His upper body musculature was obvious and defined.
When they’d first started chasing bounties, Charles could reel in targets
playing easy bait, still slim and sprouting in his late teens. Now twenty-
three, and given up waiting for the growth spurt he’d been sure would catch him
up to Erik, Charles’ stature was short but his presence and command were
inarguable. When they sparred, Erik had the advantage of greater reach but if
Charles got under his guard the impact of his strength and skill was
devastating. There’d been some less tangible talents emerge, that could be
written off as intuition, good luck or just being really convincing.
And Charles never held back anymore; Erik had taught him not to.
He was still the most fascinating thing Erik’d ever seen, no matter how much of
the galaxy they’d experienced.
Erik’s wrist was captured and pushed towards Charles’ plush arse so he took the
instruction, knelt up and began to thumb across the gathered muscle. His cock
was starting to fill up and his trousers would soon need adjusting, only he was
belted in the nose with a container of lubricant, which Charles had tossed over
his shoulder.
“Hey,” said Erik, indignant.
Charles collapsed in chuckles. “Sorry, sorry, you were supposed to catch that.”
“Ow,” Erik added.
“Aw, did the diddums bounty hunter injure his pretty little face,” Charles
crooned, and then he let out an undignified squawk as Erik servo-cuffed his
wrists to the bunk leg. “What…?” he started to exclaim, but Erik pinned him on
his back, spreading his legs out firmly by the knees.
He arched up to test how much movement he had under Erik’s weight, not much,
and then shuddered when Erik’s rolling thunder voice rumbled in his ear, “I’m
going to fuck you until you can’t tell me who you are.”
Charles could actually feel the blood rushing from his brain and crowding into
his penis, but he didn’t let his thrill show. Instead he said, “Oh perfect.
Well I shall just call out my own name until I can’t anymore.”
Erik drove a finger inside Charles, who smirked and said, “Charles.”
Erik grunted, rotated the finger very briefly before shoving in another.
“Charles,” said Charles, although he was slightly less brazen.
Erik scissored his fingers for hardly any time before putting in three. Charles
gasped his own name on an intake of breath and shut his eyes.
“Eyes on me,” Erik demanded as he rocked his hand up and crooked the middle
finger.
Blue, dizzy eyes drifted erratically to look at Erik. A lost sounding voice
said, “Charles, my name is… ungh!”
Erik watched the goose-bumped and pale torso rise on a sigh like a ghost from
the grave and quickly retrieved his hand.
“No,” said Charles, attempting to reach for Erik until the servo-cuffs halted
him.
“I can’t wait, jax. I have to fuck you now,” Erik confessed, slicking and
lining himself up.
“Yes then,” said Charles.
Erik pressed inside and kissed Charles’ chest as they both adjusted. With his
hands still bound, Charles gathered Erik in with his thighs and feet, hooking a
heel under Erik’s buttock and trying to encourage him to thrust.
Erik muttered, “That high midi-chlorian count and you only use it to drive me
insane with sex.”
“And you use yours to be a stubborn sexual tease who gets inside me and then
won’t fuck me.”
“I promised I will, and I will,” Erik told him, pinching Charles nipples and
watching his cock jerk between them in response.
“Now,” said Charles, sulkily.
Erik smoothed his hands along the underside of Charles’ thighs pressing them
back towards his chest and watched his cock disappear into Charles and
reappear, catching on the muscle on the forward surge and dragging the
stretched skin with its retreat. He moved slow at first then picked up the
pace, watching Charles’ eyes flutter closed and the hands in the cuffs clench
and release.
“Who are you?” Erik panted.
“Charles Fuck-me-harder Xavier,” was the irreverent reply.
Erik put one forearm over Charles’ chest and rammed into Charles as hard as he
could manage. Charles made a noise like a Wookiee in mourning, but his hips
canted up, thirsty to meet each thrust.
Erik forgot the game, lost in the loop of hot muscle hugging his cock and
Charles’ candy red lips mouthing his own name. And then Charles’ eyes flicked
open, wide and impossibly dark. “Erik,” he pleaded.
Erik slowly rolled his hips, dragging his penis deftly over Charles’ prostate
and pulsing slightly in place while Charles came apart, disintegrating into the
force. He was only anchored to the individual unit that was Charles by the
dedication on Erik’s face.
“Oh fuck, I love you,” swore Erik, when Charles’ limited focus came back to
him. He started fucking and kissing Charles, sloppily and stuttered, and
suddenly he was pouring into Charles and it felt like all of him was rushing
in. “Take it, fuck I love you, take it.”
“Yes,” was all Charles could whisper weakly and “love,” and softer “Erik.”
A perfunctionary wipe up, release from the cuffs and locating a blanket were
the only tasks Erik managed before he joined Charles in blissful sleep.
+++
A warning beep woke them hours later. It was the code for returning to manual
pilot. Erik kissed the back of Charles’ hair rolling to his feet and pulling
his clothes on.
He had made the switch to manual and was communicating a landing, when Charles
came into the cockpit fresh from a wash. “Want me to land Mags while you
clean?” he asked, clicking his belt together.
Erik shot him a damning look. “Do not,” he said, patting the steering vane,
“call this majestic lady Mags.”
Charles rolled his eyes, mentally marking a point on his side of the ‘Gotcha’
tally. “It’s a light freighter, love, how majestic can it be?”
“This ship is no mere YV560. It has the Lehnsherr touch,” Erik told him, for
possibly the thirtieth time since they’d bought their home. “I increased the
ship to planet scanner range, converted the storage bulk head compartments to
stasis cells and installed advanced hyperdrive with smoother jump motion.”
“Mmm, and you painted it a regal purple colour,” Charles contributed.
Erik’s face was starting to glow purple. “That shade is called ‘Manticore
Magenta’ and it suits our craft very handsomely.”
“Fine. Wash the sex off you, will you?”
“Yes, but… just get the weapons together first?” said Erik.
“Sure,” said Charles, “gut feeling?”
“That’s usually your thing, isn’t it?” said Erik, “but yeah. I do.”
“Well, maybe the force is with us then,” Charles said, bracingly. Erik was
unflappably focused when it mattered, but in the lull before action he tended
to worry about getting Charles in danger.
Erik smiled at him, not particularly fooled. Charles tended to try jolly him
out of his concerns. “Yes, maybe,” he conceded.
Charles set them up with weapons, portable comm units, water and other standard
landing gear. Then he sat in the pilot seat grumbling, “Who calls a freighter
the Magneto Kudana?” He’d landed, parked in a hangar and was strapping on a
blaster holster when Erik emerged and started concealing a knife in his boot.
“Ready?” asked Erik.
“Ready,” Charles confirmed.
They left the ship and hired speeder bikes. Erik insisted on a black D-22 with
thick burgundy stripes.
“You don’t need a ‘screamer’, Erik,” muttered Charles, referring to the bike’s
nickname.
“Style is always important, no matter what the task,” Erik said.
“Are you sure you’re not the one born to a political family?” Charles teased,
trying not to smile. “I will be happy with the Flare-S swoop.”
Erik sniffed. “Common,” he commented.
Charles just shook his head and checked the map on his comm. They were going to
check out a nerf herder, who happened to be cousin to the target. “Let’s go,”
he said, and ignited the engine.
It was a lovely Sunday drive but for the violence coming at the end of it. The
sky was innocently blue and the wind as warm as adoration. The bikes sped past
acres of rippling crops and Erik thought Charles would be divine framed in the
flaxen ocean of grains, while Erik fucked him and the stalks bowed over them in
worship.
When Charles caught a strand of energy or thought on the breeze, he motioned to
Erik and pointed to himself and a cliff. Erik indicated his direction into the
valley and a signal for head on. They split up.
Charles parked the swoop behind a bush and unpacked a rope and clips. He
started to scale the small cliff face, swiftly and silently.
Erik rode into the valley making a great deal of noise. His jacket made from
red and black striped hud hide was stark against the muted palate of the
grasses. He just managed to get off the bike by the time the first gust of wind
lifted him.
Erik had developed some babyish and haphazard control over magnetic fields, not
much, but enough to avoid a fatal landing. He’d have some bruises though and he
hoped Charles climbed fast. When he stood up so his escape from injury was
obvious, he could see the target, a tan and dark haired man, curse and raise
his hands again. It was fascinating how the wind sat in Quested's palm,
swirling in funnels at his will. It was not so charming as it grew and spun
towards Erik though. He braced and relaxed into the sensation of being pitched.
At the height of the flight, he upped the resistance in the intangible force
directly below him and landed fairly softly on his back.
He and Quested played this game a few times, until Charles had snuck up the
cliff and down the hill behind their target. Charles dove at the fugitive, the
surprise assuring he knocked Janos down and wrestled him into force shackles.
Erik had insisted on spending the money on them and Charles was now grateful
for the status-loving streak in his partner, because the shackles held Janos’
hands and feet immobile with a tractor beam. Also, Charles kicked the crim in
the face to be on the safe side.
+++
Emma was resplendent as ever, immaculate in white. She floated like a Jedi
master, not the owner of a bounty agency. Her hair was coiled into a side cone,
covered in diamond studded net which framed her face and matched her gloves and
over-robe, the elegance of which was completely belied by her skin tight,
armour-like jumpsuit and boots.
“Emma, you glow like the mythical unicorns of Talis,” said Charles, winningly.
“And you glow like you just sucked Erik’s cock before you came to see me.”
“In fairness, Emma, he did suck mine first.”
Her mouth twitched in a hastily aborted smile. “Horrible boys,” she said almost
fondly, “If you weren’t the best bounty hunters since Jango Fett…”
“I know,” sighed Charles, “You’d banish us to the swamps in the Dagobar system.
Only look what we brought you.” He swept his hand out and Erik carried the
unconscious Janos into Emma’s office.
“Ooh,” cooed Emma, “the elusive Mr Quested. Excellent work, boys! Pop him into
the stasis cell for me, will you Erik?” She sat at her desk and pulled up some
hologram records with a twist of her wrist. Charles helped himself to a drink
and a plush armchair while Emma transferred their payment. When she was done,
she handed him a data chip. “I was intending to transmit this later today,
however, since you’re here…”
“Thanks mom,” Charles said, taking the chip.
“That’s going too far,” she said, pure distaste curling her face. “Get out
before I turn your sexual organs into bantha fodder.”
“Well, at least it would be very high grade fodder,” Charles swayed to his feet
and strolled to the door.
“Good luck with this one, Xavier, it’s a lot of money and we won’t be the only
people on it.”
He nodded at her, a prickle of interest lighting his scalp, and went to find
Erik.
They bought some supplies and loaded up the YV560, before splashing out on a
Coruscant restaurant meal and some drinks in a really nice bar. Charles was in
his Xeo suit and Erik was in the fashion of his home planet, which seemed to be
excessively tight undershirts, animal hide jackets with practical, but sinfully
fitted, trousers riveted together with metal studs.
Charles had danced with a Corellian ambassador, and been told that the
Corellian everymen were disgruntled but being overruled by the money being made
by the select few. He’d danced with a senator’s wife, and gleaned that good
fabrics were so hard to acquire since the trade federation collapsed in on
itself, and a Noorian nobleman, hope was crumbling there, when Erik cut in and
swayed close to him, lips pressed to his temple. He watched Charles’ frantic
enthusiasm calm, and zero in on Erik and their shared breath. Erik loved this.
The potential of this man sometimes made Erik feel as if he was the rider of a
reptilian flier, with the thrill of reining in a vicious power and the fear of
being in close proximity to a barely tamed danger.
They both drank way too much and stumbled back to their ship.
When Charles woke next, he was alone. He pulled the closest item of clothing
on, Erik’s hud hide jacket, and went looking for Erik. It wasn’t too hard,
there was humming and clanging from one of the cells.
“Hi love,” Charles said to draw attention.
Erik paused in his work and kissed him. “I reviewed the new target,” he said.
“Are you hungry?”
“Don’t,” Charles spat out, going pale, “even talk about food.” He rubbed the
back of his neck. “So did I rock your world last night?”
Erik chuckled, “You started to suck me off, gave up, lay back and suggested I
do you, then started snoring by the time I got your boots off.”
“Well,” said Charles, “that wasn’t my A-game. But since I’m never drinking
again, it will be galaxy changing next time.”
Erik kissed him again and picked up his wrench. Charles usually liked watching
him get greasy and sweaty, only today he felt he was greasy and sweaty enough
for the whole star system. He went to scan the new bio.
The info flew up, images and aurebesh, and Charles sucked in a surprised
breath. The target was a known leader in the rebellion against the Empire. He’d
previously been in the Republic Defense Forces and people trusted him. His
hologram projected above the unit. Charles was mesmerised. He was so young,
Charles’ age maybe, maybe just older. Bigger, bigger than Erik actually the
stats said, with a sweet little boy face. What really arrested Charles’ breath
and attention was the man’s blue eyes, which were painfully sad. They held a
galaxies' future, and they were burdened and, yet, concurrently steadfast.
When Erik came in, wiping his hands on a rag, he found Charles silently crying.
“I don’t think we should take this job,” he told Erik, swiping quickly at his
face.
“Charles, it is… so much money,” Erik pointed out.
“He’s not a criminal,” snapped Charles, “he’s a hero.”
Erik frowned. “We’ve never taken sides before, never been involved. It’s not
our fight, jax.”
“Look at him,” Charles pleaded.
“A handsome face has never swayed you before.”
“No Erik. Really look at him.”
Erik merely saw a young man with big shoulders, no lines on his face, someone
with purpose; someone Charles deserved. He shrugged, and started to shut
himself away behind a face Charles hadn’t seen directed at him for years.
“It’s everybody’s fight. Just because we haven’t chosen a side, doesn’t mean we
are not on one,” said Charles. He reached for Erik’s hand only to have it was
snatched away.
“If we do this job,” said Erik, “we can stop. We can go back to Xeo or hide on
the outer rim. We can avoid it all and stay safe and together.” They could both
hear the ghost of Erik’s voice reverberating around a stifling hot workshop, ‘I
can’t keep you safe.’
Charles was desperate too but, despite the nausea and searing, chest-tearing
pain this stand was causing, he could only see one way to go. “If you do it,
Erik,” he said, slowly, “I won’t be there. In fact, I’ll stop you.”
Erik looked like a steel trap, or a raw, new wound.
Charles couldn’t bear to see it. He ejected the chip, and put his hand on
Erik’s arm. “I love you. This doesn’t change that.” He left the room.
By the time Erik had pulled himself together enough to follow him to their
bunkroom, Charles and his gear were gone.
+++
Charles and Erik had been a good team, their strengths complimented each other,
but there were some things Erik did better and some things Charles did better
and Charles knew he would find the target first.
He got out of Coruscant, quick and quiet, official transport to the next big
port where he bought the smallest freighter he could find and transmitted a
message asking a friend to meet him and help him out. He kept himself busy,
supplying and checking the ship, while waiting for the answer. He didn’t want
to think about if Erik had taken the job or…
It was worse to hope. He reminded himself, ‘You don’t meet the love of your
life when you’re fifteen.’
He got an affirmative response from his friend and an encoded location. Then he
was gone again, had taken off, leaped through hyperspace and landed on Bestine
IV before he had even realised he was still wearing Erik’s jacket.
Charles found the diner meeting spot easily enough, it was human owned, pumping
with multitude species. It was clean and the food smelled delicious. Charles
climbed onto a diner stool.
“What’s good?” he asked the teenager sitting next to him.
“Everything,” said the boy, fourteen at most. “My dad owns this place. I’m
Jek,” he held out his fist. Charles bumped it.
“Charles,” he said back.
“You should get a cup of taur first. Pot’s always fresh.”
“Okay then,” Charles signalling the server. “What else?”
The server poured the taur and placed a menu in front of Charles, who raised a
querulous eyebrow at Jek. The boy ordered for him, shakum spiced bantha baked
in pastry, then waved a book at Charles. “Know anything about civics? I have
homework. I’m good at the technical stuff, math, anything that relates to
flying and wheelin’ n’ dealin’. But sociology? politics?” he shook his head.
“Might do,” said Charles and took a look.
They began to fill in Jek’s worksheet together until Charles’ food was
delivered. Charles picked up his cutlery. Jek peered at Charles’ plate and told
the server, “Tell dad Drezy Nodor ripped him off on the jurgut leaves unless he
paid under 12 credits a bag.”
She smiled at him, “Sure thing J.T. You want another blue shake?”
“Yes please.”
Charles, always a bounty hunter, managed to eat his meal, guide Jek through his
worksheet, and get some solid information on the state of Bestine IV’s opinion
on the Empire and the Rebellion, all before he was greeted from behind.
“Hank,” he said, happily, offering the young man a hug. It was returned with a
ginger pat on the shoulder. “Thanks for coming,” Charles said.
“You’re welcome, Charles, after that thing on Tatooine…” Hank went pale at the
memory. “Hey J.T. I’m going on a trip with Charles so you don’t want to crash
your speeder bike, okay?”
“I don’t crash,” Jek sniffed, with the type of conviction only the innocent can
portray.
“Much,” said Hank.
“J.T. are you annoying customers?” A white clad man approached them from the
kitchen. He had the same dirty blonde hair as Jek, poking out in tufts from
beneath his toque.
Hank pushed his goggles on tighter. “He’s fine, Mr Porkins.”
“He’s been lovely company, actually. And thank you for the meal,” Charles said,
extending his hand.
Jek’s dad wiped his hand on his apron and shook Charles’. They farewelled Jek
and went to get Hank’s supplies. It took some time to load all the things Hank
deemed necessary onto the tiny ship. As Charles flew, Hank built a scanner,
which picked up some Rebel communication and located the specific source. They
landed and found her, it turned out to be a young mother. Charles was gentle
with her, shamed by her commitment to a righteous way, and used his baby
version mind tricks to have her tell what she knew. He left with a location,
but no clue if the target was there.
All in all, the hardest thing about finding the rebel base was trying not to
let Hank hear him fret at night or let him see that he slept in a hud hide
jacket.
Hank adapted the ship so it had stealth ability and they cruised around the
desolate mountain planet without detection. They scanned for heat readings and
landed the freighter as close to the grouping of moving dots as the terrain
would allow.
Then they had to climb. Charles did it with ropes and carabiners and Hank
transformed into his impressive blue furry state and swung easily up the cliff
face.
The simple headquarters were well hidden, but Charles could feel the energy of
people nearby, stronger the closer he got, and Hank had made a force field
scrambler, so they met no resistance.
“Hey,” said Charles, striding into the room casually.
There were six blasters pointed at him.
“That’s a bit rude. I’m unarmed,” Charles said, examining a callus on his
finger.
“But you got past my defence systems and I’m a genius so you’re a threat,” said
a dark-haired man with a blue lights glowing in the middle of his chest.
A big-shouldered blonde man stood up, saying placatingly, “Tony.” He swung his
piercing gaze to Charles.
“Captain Rogers,” Charles said, and found himself inexplicably smiling.
***** The side of the line *****
“Yes, that’s me. I’m afraid I don’t recognise you though.” The rebellion poster
boy sounded polite but there was no welcome in his stance: feet planted, weight
even, arms akimbo.
Charles’ smile widened. “I know I’ve broken all barriers of etiquette here, but
I found it dreadfully hard to get an invite. My name is Charles Xavier, I have
no intention of harming you or anyone here, so maybe someone could pat me down
and then we can have a chat without the blasters pointed at my person.” Charles
put his hands on a nearby table, spread his legs and poked his arse out.
“I’ll do it,” the dark-haired man offered, trotting over to Charles with his
eyes unerringly trained on Charles’ tight trousers.
“Tony,” said Steve, warningly this time, “I think not. Natasha, if you wouldn’t
mind.”
“Honey,” said Tony, “you don’t want me to help? Fine. I guess I’ll just stand
here and look pretty.”
A red haired woman, shorter than Charles, stalked over to him and ran her hands
roughly and thoroughly over his torso and limbs. Just as Charles was starting
to straighten up, she swiped her hand between his legs, from cock to arse, and
gave him a resounding smack. He stifled a squeak in his throat and winked at
her. She winked back.
“So how can I help you?” Steve asked.
Charles’ sass fell away. “I wanted… I hope, I can help you.” Steve merely
raised his eyebrow. Charles explained, “There’s a bounty on you. A really large
one, a really tempting one. I found you first but others will be looking.”
Tony moved up behind Steve, who turned his ear in that direction without
relinquishing Charles from his observation. “How did you find us?” Tony asked.
“I have my tricks,” Charles said evasively. “No one betrayed your confidence.”
"You're a bounty hunter? That's how you knew about this?"
"Yes," Charles said, jutting a defiant chin towards the captain.
Steve nodded. "We need to make a plan with the Commanders, to deal with this
new information, whether we move base or I leave the group for a while… ”
“We’ll see about that, Cap,” Tony told him, "I'm not leaving you, that's for
damn sure."
"Charles, would you like to eat or rest?" Steve asked him.
"My friend is waiting outside. Food would be welcome."
"No problem. Raven would you mind?"
The lovely blue woman Charles had noticed earlier came forward cheerfully. They
collected Hank, who eyed Raven nervously, made their way to a kitchen and
rummaged in the food cupboards. Raven was showing off her immaculate ability to
shapeshift and mimic, turning into Charles then Steve then a Bothan then a
Kowakian.
“What’s next Charles?” Hank asked him.
Charles frowned and rubbed at his forehead. “I think I need to go back to
Xeodantra and do the right thing.”
“What about Erik?”
Charles groaned, “I miss Erik, but he needs to realize hiding me isn’t really
love.”
Raven bumped her shoulder on his in support. Hank nodded seriously.
A Twi’lek man ran into the kitchen, yelling, “Raven, where’s Steve? Callien
can’t breathe.”
Hank was on his feet in the space of a blink. “Show me,” he demanded, and he
was not to be questioned.
The Twi’lek led Hank to a man lying stiff on the floor and Hank dropped to his
knees, checking him over with his ears and eyes and hands. He tugged the man’s
uniform open at the neck, extracted a pocket blade and a thin, electro-pulse
calibrator from his utility belt. He twisted the calibrator cylinder open and
emptied it of its inner wires and electrodes.
“Hold his head, Charles,” Hank ordered. He felt along Callien’s throat and
placed his knife on the skin an inch above the collarbone.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the Twi’lek shouted.
“Back off,” Hank growled, the sound reverberated in Charles’ skull and around
the room. Hank made a vertical cut into Callien’s throat and swiftly inserted
the calibrator shell into the gap. Callien’s chest rose as air rushed through
the tube into his lungs. “Is there a medical clinic?” Hank asked. “We need to
move him to it, but we need to keep him flat.”
“Okay, Keth can you fetch a stretcher?” Raven suggested.
As the Twi’lek ran to fulfill the request, Charles said, “Good work, McCoy.”
Hank smiled shyly, “Thanks Governor.”
Charles screwed his face up. “I’m not Governor yet.”
Hank shrugged and they smiled at each other.
When Steve and Tony came out of the meeting, they found Hank, Charles and Keth
tending Callien in the clinic.
“We heard you’ve saved a life today,” Steve told Hank, cupping his shoulder.
“It was nothing,” said Hank, dipping his head.
“It was everything to Callien,” Steve said, “Thank you.” Hank blushed and
adjusted his glasses.
"Can we talk, Charles?" Steve asked.
At Charles' nod, Steve led him to a small lounge area, offered Charles a seat
and they sat opposite each other, Charles lounging back and Steve sitting
forward, elbows on knees. Steve nodded at Nat.
“Something,” Nat said carefully, “is making you rethink. I don’t know anything
about you, but I can tell that.”
Charles didn’t really know how to explain that despite Captain Rogers’
legendary history of battle smarts, despite his obvious strength, despite his
clear command, Charles still wanted to protect him. He settled for a statement,
“I don’t think anything I do could impact the Empire. They have it pretty sown
up. So we’ve… I’ve kept out of it. But this, I mean you, Captain… I couldn’t do
that. I’ll be honest, I’m not really sure why.”
Natasha harumphed. “That's because most of us take the world as it is, not as
we’d like it to be. Cap doesn’t. It’s annoyingly endearing.”
Steve shot her an amused sidelong glance and inquired of Charles, “You said
we.”
Charles rubbed his chin, hard, so it hurt more than the heartbreak he was
stuffing further down in the belly of his brain. “My partner and I argued about
whether to take the job.”
“Will he come for Cap?” Nat asked.
“I… don’t know.”
Steve sat back. “He won’t.” Nat raised her eyebrows. “He won’t,” reiterated
Steve, cracking his knuckles.
“Is this about him?” she said under her breath.
Steve ignored her. “Charles, Y'know how you're not sure why you stood for me
just now? I'm not sure why I trust you so completely after ten minutes. I don't
usually, do I Nat?"
"That's true, it took him ages to trust me, when everything I do is
transparent," she smirked, and Steve outright laughed.
"Yes," he said, "Transparent." He turned back to Charles. "I don’t like to ask,
but really this is… I can’t see another way. My oldest friend and I were in the
Republic Force together. I tried to get him out when I got out, but they have
him on side somehow, he’s very valuable to them. I don’t think they know the
connection, however, he is a very skilled fighter and force sensitive. I was
going to find my friend, but if I’m well known enough for a bounty then… I
can’t infiltrate. Raven has already agreed to help me; will you too? You could
work together. I’ll pay you or owe you a favour back. Please, Charles. I can’t,
can’t leave him. Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.”
“Cap,” said Natasha, with the air of a oft replayed holo chip, “Whoever he used
to be and the guy he is now, I don’t think he’s the kind you save. He’s the
kind you stop.”
“That is why I didn’t ask you. That’s why I asked Charles. He understands what
it’s like to hope.”
Charles laughed shakily. “Is that what’s happening to me?”
Steve smiled at him, “It’s not such a bad way to do things. My choices are
always very clear.”
Charles smiled back, hesitantly. He was scared beyond anything he’d fronted up
to before, and there were some bizarre and dangerous things in the galaxy. But
something about Captain Rogers made sense to Charles. He seemed to operate from
the old era self-policing standards that his dad used to lecture him about.
Charles remembered being five and asking his dad why he was sad, and his dad
had responded, "Son, it's my job and my privilege to bear our planets burdens
as strongly as I celebrate it's successes." Charles had not understood this,
even when he studied Xeo agricultural history and learned of the fungal blight
of that season that had wiped out several families' livelihoods and pushed two
farmers to suicide. Charles thought now that his dad and Captain Rogers had a
lot in common.
“I recognise that look,” said Natasha, peering at Charles, “It’s the look of a
person with nothing left but the concept of honour.”
Steve smiled at him, proud and inclusive, “We’ll help you however we can.”
The next day, Charles and Hank were given a tour by Raven, although most of the
equipment was in the process of being packed away for the move. Hank bumped
into a very large, hairy man.
“Watch it, bub,” the rough man said.
Hank froze, seemed to decrease in size, and stared. He started to stammer
apologies.
“Great,” said the man rudely, “more timid techs for a warrior’s battle.”
“Howlett, you’re an arse,” said Raven. “Hank’s already saved a life here. He’s
invaluable.”
“Also, Hank’s got a side to him that would challenge even Captain Rogers’ hand-
to-hand skills,” Charles added.
“Oh yeah?” said Howlett, giving Hank a once over. “Fight me.”
“I’d prefer not to,” said Hank, trying to disappear into the floor.
“C’mon, friendly scrap. We’re on the same side,” Howlett prodded.
“Drop it, Logan,” said Raven.
Logan pushed Hank.
“Don’t do that,” said Charles and Hank, simultaneously.
Logan smirked and pushed Hank again.
Charles sighed dramatically and held his hand out for Hank’s glasses. “Try not
to damage anything, will you Hank?” he said, mildly as he pulled Raven to the
side of the room.
Hank turned blue and furry, his thin frame expanded into defiant danger. While
Logan was still staring in shock, Hank swiped one arm at him and threw him
across the room. Logan hit the wall and crumpled. He got up shaking his head
and grinning. “Awesome,” he said, with enthusiasm. Then he lifted his fists and
huge metal claws protruded from the knuckles. “Let’s go,” he said and ran
forward.
The fight was furious and feral. Hank was leaping around the room, off tables
and landing on Logan from behind. Logan was slashing, mainly missing, but he
kept getting up after every hit.
Hank got Logan underneath him, was crouched over him ready to punch, when
Logan’s voice dropped in tenor and increased in intensity. He rumbled, “I like
you, bub, you’re a beast.” His hands were no longer pushing, but pulling Hank
toward him by the hips.
Hank scrambled back, rapidly turning pink skinned and fur-less. He retreated to
Charles.
“Well, you’ve meet Logan then,” Raven drawled, “and, yes, he is always that
much fun.”
They left the room, Logan calling from the floor, “Nice to meet you, Hank.”
Hank shuddered.
+++
Between them, they agreed that Raven would travel with Charles to help him in
Xeodantra, and then the two of them would search for Bucky. Hank declared he
would stay and help the resistance, valiantly ignoring Logan’s satisfied wink.
“Good luck, Charles,” said Steve.
“Thank you for understanding, Captain Rogers.”
“Not goodbye, Governor,” Steve said, fondly.
“Not goodbye, Captain,” Charles returned.
Tony hugged him and squeezed his arse.
“So what’s the plan for taking back your planet, Charles?” asked Raven, when
they were in Charles' little ship. She was sitting with her bare feet on the
dash.
“I thought I’d bluff my way in,” said Charles seriously.
“That’s your plan?” she said, unimpressed. "I'm a master spy and can kill with
my feet. You're going to stick to that plan?"
“The people will be desperate. My stepfather is a cruel and cowardly man and my
mother has become somewhat of a despot. My friend and ally, Armando, has been
subversively spreading tales of my abuse and telling everyone I’m away at a
highly exclusive training academy and hinting at my triumphant return this past
year.” Charles shrugged, “and if that doesn’t work we’ll run really fast, and
I’ll have to institute plan B.”
“What’s plan B?” said Raven, perking up.
Charles said heavily, “Civil war.”
Prior to landing, Charles donned his best Xeo suit, and tried not to think
about Erik and the last time he’d worn it. They landed under stealth mode in a
farm which Armando had assured him was sympathetic. They stayed there for a
couple of days while Raven, who was from a planet of shapeshifters, assumed
familiar forms and gleaned the real feeling of the populace in diners and bars,
the library and the marketplace.
"They're primarily on your side, Charles," she told him, "Are you actually
still going through with that crazy first plan?"
"I am," confirmed Charles, as he hid a knife under his waistcoat, "but I'm
preparing for anything."
In the late morning, they crept into Government House. Charles led them
straight to the assembly, they’d be sitting around listening to appeals and
problem solving at this time of day. The routine of the building was as
familiar to Charles as the royal blue carpet was.
Charles strolled casually into the room.
“Good morning everyone,” he boomed to the assembly, “It’s fabulous to be home.”
Kurt sprung up and started yelling for some one to seize the traitor who’d
abandoned the nation. A guard came forward, but Charles just waited until he
pulled out his blaster, dove forward under the gun, knocked the arm up with his
elbow and back-handed the guard with his own weapon.
“Thank you for helping me to demonstrate how well my training has gone. Good
job,” said Charles enthusiastically, helping the man to his feet and sending
him to Raven who was waving a bandage. “Anyone else with a test?”
Armando stepped forward. “Welcome back, Governor. I have an agricultural
problem. We have tried introducing kudana for breeding but they keep dying or
simply not getting pregnant. We have now borrowed quite heavily from the
education funds to replenish stock.”
“In my travels, I have heard kudana have never successfully bred outside of
Rutan. I would slaughter the remaining ones for product, body armour and such-
like, which should then be traded to recompense those families who lost income
or education. Anyone else?”
“Munoz is a traitor too,” Kurt proclaimed. “He has openly called the brat
‘Governor’ without official ruling. Arrest him.”
Another man stepped toward Armando, but Charles intervened, holding his hand
out to the man to shake. While the confused man hesitated, Charles inquired
after his daughter, “The lovely Mala isn’t it?”
“Mala, yes,” said the man, distracted. “She just had her first baby, my first
grandchild.”
“Congratulations. Mala will be a delightful mother. Is the baby a boy or a
girl?”
“A boy, Governor,” said the new grandfather, completely won over.
“I don’t suppose you have a holo image?” Charles asked, looking hopeful. A holo
projection of a bald and wrinkled baby was produced from a pocket and dutifully
cooed over. “He has a terribly strong neck, and doesn't he look like his
mother? Please tell Mala I said hello, will you?”
“I will,” said the man, and shook Charles’ hand.
Charles swivelled and looked his remaining parent in the eye. He said, “Hello
Mother, are you going to welcome me back from my period of training?”
Looking as if something tasted sour, her eyes flickered to her husband, who was
red and sweating, and back to her son, who was poised and commanding. Sharon
glided over to Charles and kissed his cheek, “Welcome home, son. It seems your
training has prepared you for leadership splendidly.”
“Thanks mommy,” he said, “It’s good to see you, I missed you very much.”
There was a flash of relief and gratitude in her gaze, and he winked at her.
Kurt started yelling again and Charles suggested loudly, “My stepfather is
overwrought with the surprise of having me back after so long. Perhaps a guard
could assist him to his room for a rest? And it might be safer if that person
stays outside the door for the rest of the day in case our Acting Governor
needs further help.”
A few of the defence force stepped forward.
“Well, it certainly is wonderful to be back. This is my honoured guest Raven
and we are starving so a slap-up luncheon would be very well received. But
first can we organise informing the populace of events and advise them who to
go to in order to report on what is working for them and what isn’t. I’ll visit
some of the farms but the area representatives will have to gather most of the
information I’m afraid.”
“I can take care of releasing that information, Charles,” said Armando.
“You would be welcome to lunch at my house, Governor,” said a well-dressed
lady, who Charles was not surprised to remember had a daughter his age. He was
willing to bet against a Toydarian the daughter was single and at home today.
Charles employed his charm to decline and insist he needed time to catch up
with his beloved mother. Then he and Raven hid in the receiving room, listening
to Charles' old music chips and drinking Kurt's best Corellian wine.
+++
Erik loped casually into the brand new rebel base.
“Oh for Pete’s sake,” grumbled Tony, “No, not you, Parker. Is there a
convention of super brains in the area? How are you getting past my defences?”
He swiped at the hologram projections a few times. “How did you disable my
underfoot sensors without the system warning me?”
“I hacked it and re-routed the warning to my comm unit.”
“It’s encoded and password protected.”
“The password is 'captainfreemycum'.”
“Oh my… really, Stark?” Captain Rogers was looking at Tony with both disbelief
and embarrassment.
“What? I like it when you do that,” Tony said smirking.
“I’m Erik Lehnsherr and I assume by your reaction you’ve already had a visit
from Charles.”
“Mmmm, Xavier, yes. Nice arse.”
“Thank you, Tony,” said Steve quickly. “Yes, we have. He came to warn us about
the bounty on me. Do you seek me for that purpose?”
“No, Captain,” said Erik, suddenly looking tired, “I seek Charles, just
Charles.”
Steve walked forward and clapped Erik on the shoulder. “You’re his partner,
aren’t you? Listen, come and eat and have a rest. Tony will probably want to
interrogate you on his currently-not-very-well-named defence system, but then
we can find out where Charles went.”
“Thank you, Captain Rogers” said Erik, fighting the urge to yell at the rebel
leader until he coughed up Charles’ location. Captain Rogers looked sweet, but
Erik got the impression he was an immovable mountain when his mind was set.
“Just Steve please,” said the captain and took Erik into the kitchen. It was
too small a space to be a mess hall, but people had crowded into it and somehow
that was welcoming. As they were getting a bowl of food, Erik was hailed from
behind.
“McCoy,” he said, surprised, shaking the man’s hand.
“Erik, I’m so glad to see you. Charles will be incredibly relieved.”
“You’re in the alliance now Hank?”
“Yes, I came with Charles and I stayed to help with some of the aircraft and in
the medical clinic.”
“And he’s such an asset,” said Steve.
“I don’t doubt it,” Erik replied.
They were moving to a table when Erik felt a weird sensation of tiny iron
particles gathering together and rushing towards them. He swung his head around
looking for the source.
“What’s wrong?” said Steve sharply.
“Hank get Tony,” instructed Erik, and Hank ran.
Erik had never been so aligned with the force before. He could feel all the
metal in the room. He glanced at Captain Rogers, thinking perhaps the force was
with Erik right now for a reason.
He snatched up a metal tray and handed it to Steve. He flipped a table and
snapped two metal legs off, again handing one to Steve. Erik hefted the other
and waited.
There was a puff of displaced air and a crack of sound. A red-skinned, black
haired man appeared in the room and struck a woman with a sword. He disappeared
as quickly.
“Azazel,” said Erik. Steve tilted his head towards Erik, a question, but did
not stop scanning the room.
Azazel appeared again. This time Erik could feel him gathering, but without
enough time to warn the pilot near the door. He did slow the arc of the sword
by manipulating the force, enough that the rebel pilot was able to duck and
run. Azazel’s sharp stare swung to Erik, and then slid gleefully to Steve.
Crack. Gone. Steve ordered everyone out of the mess. As they ran there was
another crack but Erik had already pushed Steve behind him and brought his
table leg up to meet the sword. The impact jarred his shoulder while Steve’s
hand supported his back. Erik could see anger flaring in his attacker’s eyes
and could not help giving a little tsk and a smirk in the face of it.
Azazel’s tail whipped out to grip Erik’s throat. The shock was immediate, from
the pain and lack of air. Erik brought his hands up to scratch at the
appendage, but it was wrapped around more than once and constricting further.
A fist arrowed across Erik’s fading line of sight and into the red jaw. Azazel
staggered, letting go and disappearing.
“Okay?” asked Steve.
Before Erik could answer, he had a second of warning and again shoved Steve
behind him, completely spinning the direction they were facing. This time the
tail came up first heading for Steve, but Erik reached out with more than his
hand for the sword. It left its owners hand, flying to settle happily against
Erik’s palm and he swung it down and through the outstretched tail.
Azazel roared, before a food tray connected violently with his face and he
collapsed senseless.
“Good shot, Captain,” said Erik, still holding the sword.
“Thank you, Erik. I assume he was after me.”
“I think so,” Erik confirmed. “He is a bounty hunter.”
Steve started to move to the injured woman, but Tony ran in. His hands came up
to the captain’s face, a question clear in his dark eyes.
“I’m fine Tony, thanks to Erik. This man tried to capture me, we think.”
Tony kicked the prone form. Steve tutted, so Tony kicked out again, getting the
comatose bounty hunter in the head this time, and grinned at Steve defiantly.
Nat and Hank came into the room. Steve went into leadership mode. “Nat, would
you please take this man to stasis before he wakes up?” She stun cuffed him,
and dragged him from the room by the foot. “Hank,” continued Steve, “Gloarsa
was struck with a metallic sword. Please assess her.” Hank followed the
captains pointed finger and his request.
“Erik,” said Tony, although he hadn’t looked away from the rebel leader’s face.
“I owe ya. But later. Right now I’m going to check Cap over.”
“I’m fine Tony,” repeated Steve.
Tony kissed him, rested his forehead on Steve’s cheekbone. “I’m checking you
over, every tiny inch of you, and if you’re a good captain you’ll let me
because you’ll understand how important moral is.”
Steve said, “Okay Stark,” and pulled him closer with the most massive arms Erik
had ever seen on a human.
Erik started to sneak off to a background soundtrack of kisses and murmurs
which, combined with the loaded looks between the two men, was making Erik’s
heart ache. As he moved past tipped up chairs and before he clicked the door
closed, he heard Steve say, “I’m sorry. If this wasn’t so important I wouldn’t
make you live like this.”
And Tony replying, “That was too close Cap. Too fucking close. I thought you
were strong, that you could handle yourself?”
And Steve said, chuckling, “Are you sure it’s only me you want me to handle?”
The tiny redhead, Natasha, found Erik and took him to Hank to have his throat
checked.
Hank sighed over it, “You might be a bit croaky for a while,” and applied cream
to the skin on his neck. Then, Hank introduced him to Logan. Erik found him
fascinating because of the adamantium in his structure, which greeted Erik far
more warmly than the outside of Logan. They shared a drink with Erik and they
sat chatting in Hank’s exam room, Logan teasing Hank until he bit back with an
intelligent put down. Hank laughed a lot and Erik thought privately he fit in
here, that having purpose had done more for the shy boy than natural abilities
had ever done. Erik was enjoying himself, only he kept looking around for
Charles' reactions and once his hand fumbled on the bench seeking out Charles'.
After a pleasant catch-up, Logan led Erik to the control room. Steve jumped up
as soon as he saw Erik, enveloped him in a hug, which Erik, not used to being
shorter and immobilised by tree-trunk arms, found vaguely threatening.
Tony pointed, “I want a word with you.”
“Tony, let the man eat,” rebuked Steve.
“Okay, you let the man breathe.”
Steve released him immediately, “Sorry.” He clapped Erik’s shoulder instead,
“Hungry?”
Erik nodded.
“Follow me,” said Tony, striding down the hall. “We relocated the mess room
because Steve defiled the other one, when he defiled me.”
Steve rolled his eyes, muttered something about a troop of academy trainees
having done that, and gave Erik a bashful half smile.
Erik returned it and observed, “You somewhat remind me of Charles, Tony, I
suppose you two got on very well.”
“It was awful,” confirmed Steve, looking traumatised.
“Charles thinks you might be from my planet,” Tony told Erik. “Your affinity
with tech, and he says you wear jeans and Tshirts, which is totally a
Terstoraan thing.” He eyed the armour Erik was in.
“He's probably right,” Erik shrugged, “I don’t remember. I was really young
when… I don’t remember it, or them... I mean, my parents.”
“Sorry Erik,” said Steve.
“I’m building a new defence system after lunch. Will you test it for me?” Tony
asked Erik, although he was clearly torn between admitting someone might be as
smart as him and eliminating threats to Steve.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” said Erik perking up, “I have some ideas on how to block
a defence shield scrambler.”
“Maybe you are from Tony’s planet,” said Steve, his fake exasperation failing
to hide his fondness.
During the meal, Erik asked Tony if he was only involved in the rebellion for
Steve.
“No actually, my planet, your planet sounds like, makes the most kick ass
technology. We sold to the Republic Army and Navy. We didn’t want to renew our
contract for the Empire, but they sent a Commander and a legion of storm
troopers to occupy the planet and force our cooperation. We resisted but...
they took all the younglings to a 'safety' camp. I met Steve after I got out to
join the rebellion.”
“Charles has picked this side. I wouldn’t consciously pick the other one, but I
really wanted to keep him out of it,” Erik explained.
Steve regarded him sadly, “No one gets to stay out of it. But it’s up to you if
you want to keep pretending.”
Erik put his spoon down. He wasn't hungry any more.
Before bed, Tony put a call through to a resistance member on his home planet.
The morning saw Logan and Steve in the hallway outside Tony's workstation.
"Should we break that up?" Logan asked, nodding towards the offensive exchange
of insults emanating from the room. Erik was working with an excitable Tony on
the defence system.
"No," said Steve, doubtfully, and jumped when sporadic thumping and grunting
started, sounding for all the galaxy like a punch up.
By the end of the day, a full-on battle had been narrowly avoided but the
uncomfortable partnership had also resulted in a nigh-on infallible security
system.
When they were just finishing up, the communications tech, Sean, came looking
for them. “Tony, and Mr Lehnsherr, I’ve decoded a message from Terstoraan.”
The fuzzy image was an old man wringing his hands. He said, “My name is Otto
Eisenhart. My brother Jakob had a son called Max. He would be now the age of
the man you mentioned. We hid him, that tiny boy. We hid him to protect him.”
There was something of Erik’s mien in the way Otto lifted his chin just then,
defiance coupled with defensiveness. “There was a Jedi hunter called Shaw, he
was really the sith lord Darth Klaus, and he came to our planet to eradicate
possible Jedi. We knew he would come for our Max, who could already talk to the
droids in the house whether they had vocal modules or not. Our neighbour took
him to his sister, and she took him in. We did not know where, and by the time
our neighbour returned without him, Klaus had killed my family. They were
threats with their high midi-chlorian counts and dedication to the Jedi way. I
alone was spared because the midi-chlorian do not reside in me in any great
number.” Otto looked directly at the visual recorder, “If you have found my
nephew, keep him safe. It’s not safe here. Protect him and tell him who he is,
and what he stands for.”
The message cut out.
“That was intense, right Max?” said Tony. “Found your reason to fight the
Empire, I’d say.” He started to stride out of the comms room. “Lets get a
drink.”
Erik was slightly hung over the next day, having found drinking to be a
wonderful procrastination rather than think about Charles and his past. He
found Tony and Hank working with the star fighter design team via holo comm.
Hank pointed to some blueprints displayed in the holo screen. “They’re going to
be our fighters for space battles,” he said, “Stunning, aren’t they Erik?”
Erik nodded, moving the holo prints around so he could examine them more
intimately. "Oh, I like this," he said when he watched the wings spread out
from flat into an X shape to prepare for battle mode.
“Yeah, I disagree with the proposed name though,” grumbled Tony.
“You should call them X-wings,” said Erik.
“Did you just try to name our fighters after your boyfriend?” challenged Tony.
“X-wing? I love it,” said one of the Incom design team over the holo comm.
“Tried and succeeded, it seems,” said Erik smugly.
They were interrupted by Logan, coming to find Erik. “Hey bub, Sean’s got
another message decoded for you.”
It was Charles, scratchy and faint, saying, “I heard what you did for Captain
Rogers. I’ve taken command of Xeodantra. Come home, Erik.”
“Wow,” said Tony, confronted with an excessive display of teeth when Erik went
to tell them, “You should maybe… not smile in friendly company.”
“Do you need anything?” Steve asked him.
“If you could let him know I’m on my way?” requested Erik, and he forgot to say
goodbye or thank you in his rush to get back to his camouflaged ship. He
launched, made the trip through hyperspace and descended through the atmosphere
in to the closest port to Government House. His hands were shaking on the
controls.
Erik ran from the ship, and then ran back in for a scarf having forgotten how
windy it could get on Xeo this time of year. By the time he was coming back out
and down the ramp, Charles was spilling out of a speeder and leaping at him.
“Charles,” Erik tried to say, but his mouth was full of Charles. He managed to
free one edge of his lips and say, “Tharless.”
“Shhh,” said Charles, “Fuck now, talk later.”
Erik quipped, “You run your planet with that repartee?” He picked Charles up
and carried him into their room.
Charles was shedding clothes like they were on fire, revealing that body, pale
and strong, all long planes lined with secrets. Erik stepped towards it only to
be told firmly, “You too.” And a stern finger waved at Erik’s remaining
clothes.
Erik was naked very shortly after that and on his back, with Charles squirming
on top of him. Erik was consuming Charles' mouth as if it had been years.
Charles had his nose buried in Erik’s neck, inhaling that intoxicating smell
and rutting unconsciously in response. He would straighten his knee, rubbing
upwards, nip Erik’s ear; then drag his way overwhelmingly slowly back down,
sampling random patches of jaw, throat, rib bone as he went.
Erik had his hands pinching and kneading along Charles’ spine, over the flesh
of his arse, his own spine curling in pulses as if their bodies were a circuit
that kept getting completed.
“You smell so good,” Charles groaned. “I could come just from this.”
And Erik knew there was no one for him but Charles. His hand crept down to grip
Charles’ rigid cock.
“Erik,” whined Charles. He bucked and stilled, and then did it again.
“Charles, come.” Erik’s thumb flicked over the head and the slit of Charles’
erection.
“You too then,” said Charles, bracing up on his knees and curving enough to
grab Erik and stroke furiously.
And it got loud and awkward and sweaty and sticky and squeaky and sloppy and
uncoordinated and rough and Charles’ hand slipped off and jabbed Erik in the
stomach and Erik pinched too hard so Charles yelped and bit him and Erik said
“I love you,” and Charles said “I know,” and they came on a grunt, falling in a
heap of tangled limbs and brown hair dangling in panting lips.
When they were breathing less urgently but still plastered with their
intermingled semen, Charles said, “Erik, I’m so sorry I didn’t talk it through
with you and just left.”
“Charles, I’m sorry I wasn’t… I wouldn’t have listened that day anyway. I kept
expecting you to outgrow me at some point; I was resigned to it. It just never
occurred to me that that wouldn’t happen if I were prepared to keep growing
too. You were right about Captain Rogers and about taking sides.”
“Know what else I’m right about?”
“Life sucks without me?”
Charles laughed, bright and surprised. “Yes actually, kind of.” He pulled Erik
a bit closer. “We should do everything together. I said so when we left the
planet. I shouldn’t have come back without you.”
Erik kissed him. Charles kissed back. And they looked at each other with the
satisfaction of having clicked into place, the last part in an intricate
timepiece repair, and watching the second counter resume ticking over.
“Erik,” said Charles, “I want you to marry me. Only, I don’t know what’s
happening next so I can’t entice you with a description of our blissful future
life. I know it’ll be exciting. I can promise orgasms. We definitely have to
infiltrate the Imperial Force Adepts next to capture and convert some chap
called James Barnes.”
Erik was shaking with silent laughter.
“What’s funny,” demanded Charles. “It wasn’t an elegant proposal but I bloody
meant it.”
“You could have just said orgasms and I’d’ve been in.” Erik watched Charles’
feathers smooth back down. “Charles, you left this planet at age seventeen, on
no greater promise than being with me. I’ll marry you simply to be with you, no
bonuses needed.”
They kissed until they believed they’d just agreed to marry. They kissed until
Charles was hard again.
“However,” said Erik, “since you offered, I’ll take the orgasms too.”
“I’m a man of my word,” Charles declared, shuffling down Erik’s body to make
good.
+++
Erik and Charles stood on a dais in the centre of an oval, tiered stadium. They
were holding hands. The Master of Family was marrying them.
They were surrounded by thousands of Xeodantrans, who had been emphatically won
over by Charles’ fairness, his common sense and his threatening levels of
charm, and when they met his holo theatre handsome boyfriend, the populace had
let out a collective squee.
At the centre of it Charles and Erik were simply at peace.
The Master of Family had loosely bound their hands together and they had
recited the claim. Charles had the same infectious grin on his face the entire
way through the wedding. They planted a traditional sobkun tree together, in a
pot for the purposes of the ceremony and it would be transplanted into the
earth later.
Then the Master of Family declared them married and the crowd threw flowers and
bunches of herbs. Erik had thought he would be nervous when Charles had
informed what came next.
“I don’t want to have sex in front of thousands of people,” he had said.
“It’s important, Erik,” Charles had countered. “I’ll make you feel good, I
promise, and what are you worried about, you’re the best fuck in the galaxy.”
“How would you know? I’m the only fuck you’ve ever had.”
“True, but I’ve been attending the weddings of Xeo folk to represent the first
family since I was seven and my mother and Kurt couldn’t be bothered to go any
more,” Charles told him. “So I can honestly say you’re the best on Xeo.”
However, surrounded by a cheering crowd and having watched the sunlight pet
Charles throughout the ceremony as if he was nature’s favourite son, Erik
thought of one thing only, ‘I want to touch that beautiful man.’
He held still though, while Charles removed his robe and ran his hands over his
chest, while Charles made raw marks on his neck and collarbone and fondled his
penis through his pants. It still felt so damn good when those strong fingers
touched him.
Charles smirked at Erik, who whispered, “You little bragger,” because Charles
had moved to stand behind him, to pull open the ties on his waistband and
reveal his fully erect cock with maximum drama.
The half of the arena that could see it gasped, and Erik was a bit of a showman
too because he turned around slowly so he could gather ego boosting
exclamations from the remainder of the people in attendance.
Charles was chuckling behind him, and shucking off his own clothes. Then his
hands seemed to be everywhere and Erik was wriggling, endlessly shifting to
press into the hot contact. Erik’s eyes were closed and he was begging, so
Charles arranged him on his knees and began to pry him open with slick that
smelt like thyme. Erik had one hand over Charles’ hand, which was gripping
Erik’s hip, and the other was on the dais holding him up. Everything on Erik
was heated, and Charles’ mouth when it trailed down his back burnt like
branding. When Charles pushed the thick head of his cock in, Erik’s body was
past ready, it was welcoming and greedy, sucking the length of the erection
inside. The sensation of it dragged a shout from Charles and a satisfied howl
from Erik.
At first when Charles thrust, Erik undulated his hips back, but soon Charles
was moving too fast, the force too sharp, the friction too all-consuming. Erik
was condensed to emitting soft wails, holding himself up and trying not to come
too quickly. Droplets of sweat sprayed on the back of Erik’s neck, puffs of air
pumped out of Charles as he grunted. Erik’s knee gave out and they sprawled on
the dais, angled slightly up on one side. Charles didn’t stop, just fucked
faster and put one foot on Erik’s ankle to hold him in place. Erik’s brain
short-circuited, that simple bracing action had become a symbol for Erik
finally belonging, and he came.
Charles scooped his fingers through the splatters on the dais and said, “That
is so sexy,” before pulling out and pulsing out his own orgasm onto Erik’s
unmoving back.
The crowd was chanting, “Governor, Governor,” and some of them were yelling for
Erik.
“Oh yeah,” said Charles, “That's right, there are people here.”
+++
When they left Xeodantra, safe in the hands of Armando Munoz, Erik flew while
Raven and Charles planned their mission.
“We can appropriate some storm trooper armour and get in to the base at
Coruscant that way,” Charles suggested.
“Aren’t you a little short for a storm trooper?” Raven asked.
“Ya know what? Let’s just sneak,” Charles said. “Erik can feel out the Adept
with the metal arm, I’ll try and mind whammy him and Raven you can pretend to
be him and escort us and a “storm trooper” out. Foolproof.”
Erik sighed. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
***** Epilogue *****
Charles was tired, bone tired, and yet sleep had been a near impossibility. He
was always on edge when Erik was away. But it was more than lack of sleep, lack
of Erik, and the nervous energy before a battle. Charles was tired because he’d
been fighting for two decades, for almost half his life, for a side against
whom the odds were always solidly stacked. He was tired because he was a leader
in exile, worrying for a planet full of people who were outside his physical
protection.
He shook his head. He needed his reflexes sharp and fast. There was plenty to
be alive for at the end of this.
Erik had left with General Solo and the rest of the strike force yesterday to
disable the force field on Endor. Charles would soon be taking off to pilot one
of the X-wings in the attack against the Death Star.
While everyone else was feeling confident about bringing down the Emperor
today, Charles was uneasy. There was voluntarily laying one’s life on the line,
and there was living the remainder of one’s life without the love of it.
They’d locked themselves away before Erik’s take-off, holding on and promising
impossible promises. And Charles had confessed, “I hope this is it. I want it
to be over. I want to go home. I want to be a fat politician and fulfill on the
orgasm part of my marriage vows. Is that selfish?”
Erik reminded him, “We’re in our forties. We can go home after tomorrow,
whether it’s done or not, and help from a desk instead. Xeo needs you too, and
I am going to invent droids to help your farmers.”
“Okay,” said Charles, cuddling closer.
Now he checked his flight suit one more time and clapped Tony on the back on
their way to their cockpits.
“See you at the booze up, Xavier,” called Tony.
“You’ll be too blind drunk to see anyone, Stark,” Sam Wilson pointed out.
“Undoubtedly, Green 4” Tony agreed amiably.
Erik checked his helmet strap and camo gear. They’d tramped through the forest,
undetected but for some unfortunate storm troopers who hadn't survived a
speeder chase, and slept in their helmets. They were scoping out the main
entrance of the control bunker with General Solo and Princess Leia. Erik caught
sight of Bucky, whose content grin in the tense pause before battle eased the
knot in Erik's belly.
After an Ewok suggested the secret entrance, which was only guarded by four
storm troopers, and after three drove off after a speeder stealing Ewok, there
was only one guard to get past. Erik and some of the others waited around the
corner of the bunker pointing their blasters while Solo lead him into their
range.
Erik let the command team burst into the control room, while he followed behind
and Erik did his job of searching out back-up generators, but he’d only cleared
two corridors before he rounded a corner into a dozen storm troopers. The heat
of four blasters' attention on him stopped him cold.
Charles flanked Sam’s X-wing opposite Tony on Akbar’s command and they
travelled through hyperspace in attack formation. On the other side, Charles
checked in, unconsciously rubbing the broken seal on his control panel where
Erik had ‘Lehnsherred’ the short-range firepower. He followed Sam’s left wing,
but was aching to just get into it and focus on the tasks of battle.
Suddenly, General Calrissian was yelling, “Pull up, pull up,” and they peeled
away, only to be engaged by TIE fighters coming out of sector 45. He could hear
Sam, over the comm, grinding his teeth and Tony humming music. They dodged to
starboard and the visual marks of the TIE fighter’s shots streaked past them.
Charles thought Tony had it right to add music, it was a dance. Charles
grinned. He was a very good dancer.
Erik lifted his hands in surrender and walked, as indicated, back down the
hall. He hadn’t been the only one caught; the others on the strike team were
being herded out too. He blinked in the exterior daylight, but the storm
troopers and Imperial walkers didn’t disappear like nightmares do after waking.
The sun glinted off the white of the troopers' armour and the guns atop the
lanky AT-ATs. There was likely a whole legion surrounding them. They were shut
down.
Erik fought nausea. They would probably be merely captive, but without Charles…
Focus, he told himself and felt a flicker of awareness from Leia. They all
followed the sound of C-3PO calling to the Imperial troops, watched a few of
them split off to collect them. He covertly assessed his closest blasters and
opportunity for shelter.
As soon as the first storm trooper hit the ground, victim of a team of Ewok,
Erik turned and disarmed his captor, shot him and ran for cover. He blasted two
more troopers on his way to the fringes of the forest. He caught sight of Bucky
scaling the up the long, moving leg of an AT-AT. Erik was shooting around a
tree and taking out as many Imperial soldiers as he could see when, abruptly,
there was one in his face. In his panic, Erik waved the metal uniform away
instinctively, and the trooper flew in the exact arc his arm had made and
landed heavily on a fallen tree. He didn't move again and Erik grinned.
Charles was baiting TIE fighters away from the cruisers and the medical ship.
The fear from yesterday was long gone, determination and pure enjoyment in it’s
place.
“Charles you crazy son of a…” crowed Sam over the comm when Charles' ship
pulled out of a steep dive a little too closely to a cruiser.
There was a blast that rocked Charles’ fighter with it's turbulence and one of
the Alliance cruisers was relinquished back to the force, it's pieces expelled
in orange and black curves.
“That thing's operational,” warned Calrissian, as it dawned on him the
explosion causing shot had come from the Death Star.
The Gold and Red squadrons began to actually try to attack the Imperial
destroyers, as effective as a monkey-lizard slapping a Hutt. “And you thought I
was crazy,” Charles commented.
Charles circled around a cruiser, hoping to engage a fighter on the other side,
only to see two of them tailing Sam. He yelled, “Green 4, on your left!” and
swiftly dipped his ship to line one of them up in his gun sights. “Stark, come
and help me.”
“Invite a man to a party,” rebuked Tony, appearing on his right.
“I did,” said Charles, veering after his target. “You just took your sweet
time, playboy.”
Tony shot the fighter in front of him. He winged it and it spun away before
exploding. “Pardon,” he said, “couldn’t hear you over the sound of me doing my
job.”
Charles banked his X-wing like he used to do with his speeder bike, his gun
locked on the TIE fighter and he fired. Charles winced against the flash of
light the ship emitted as it broke apart.
Erik had made his way back to the bunker, where Chewy had taken control of an
AT-AT. The tide had completely turned, and the debris of Imperial walkers and
troops were scattered around the forest. General Solo tricked the techs
remaining in the bunker. They ran out into their capture.
Erik and the tech unit in the strike force ran into the bunker, they planted
detonators liberally in every vaguely strategic place.
And then they ran for what Erik hoped would be the last time today.
Charles' control panel registered the energy shield had been knocked out and he
shot down one more enemy fighter for kicks before changing course for the Death
Star. The Red and Gold squadrons had entered the belly of the ship looking for
the main reactor, and Charles stayed out to engage the TIE fighters and stop
them following Lando and Wedge in.
Sam clipped a fighter directly in front of Charles and he had to swerve to
avoid the collision.
“Look sharp, Xavier,” Sam called.
“Fuck off, Wilson,” Charles called back.
Tony was singing quite terribly as he shot down several fighters. Charles and
Sam flew together and played bait and catch with the Imperial pilots.
Then Calrissian was yelling to get out of there. Charles had a fighter lined up
so he held course a few seconds and took the shot.
“Are you deaf, old man?” Sam screamed to him, “Get out.”
Charles laughed as he dispatched the TIE fighter and pulled a sharp U-turn to
follow the Alliance fleet out.
“Say Sam,” said Tony as the Death Star blew up behind them and coloured the
dark of space briefly bright, “Did I ever tell you how the X-wing star fighter
got named after an old man?”
+++
The galaxy had erupted in rejoicing, and Endor was lit with fires for light and
for feasting. An Ewok tried to offer Erik food, but he waved it away as
politely as possible; he needed to see Charles before he could really
celebrate.
Eventually, he spotted Admiral Akbar at a campfire and an orange suited fighter
pilot at another. “Wedge!” Erik shouted, running to the Rogue Squadron
commander and gripping his arms. He let him go, apologised and gripped him
again.
“He made it, Lehnsherr, you can stop bruising me. He made it.” Wedge said,
pretending to be annoyed. Erik breathed out so much tense air he sat on the
ground in slack deflation. “Okay, old man?” Wedge asked.
“I am now,” said Erik.
Wedge hauled him to his feet and pushed him gently in the direction of the
landing pad. Erik left the circle of huts and light, starting up the path. He’d
shaken the hand of General Calrissian and Tony and a few other survivors,
passing them insistently and continuing up the path, before he saw the
familiar, side-to-side motion of Charles’ walk. There was less of its usual
swagger though and Erik realised Charles had no idea about his safety.
“Charles,” he called, starting to hurry.
Charles’ head came up. He dropped his helmet and ran. Erik grabbed him, holding
him close and trying not to show his relief by yelling at Charles for running
away to join the rebellion two decades ago. Charles stretched up on his toes
and kissed the burgeoning grumbling away. Erik tasted delicious, like blessings
and triumph.
“Get off the path, Green 6,” someone complained, but her smile said the
opposite, and she handed Charles his helmet.
Erik and Charles joined the party; Erik fully engaged in celebration now,
Charles so elated he kissed anyone silly enough to hug him. Erik kept hugging
him to instigate that reaction; he couldn’t leave those precious lips alone for
long, or his waist, or his butt. He dragged his thumb firmly along Charles' jaw
and licked the tender patch under his twinkling eye.
“Home time,” he told Charles. “Ready?”
“Ready,” Charles confirmed, smiling the same sweet smile he’d been giving Erik
for years.
“Sorry you two. Steve has one more thing for you to do before you can go home,”
Tony was observing them, arms folded over his chest and a shit-eating grin on
his chops.
“Sure Stark. What is it?” Erik asked, deferring immediately to Charles'
inability to decline a request from Steve.
“He, and Munoz on Xeo, and me, all insist you finally take your honeymoon
before you go home,” Tony informed them. “Steve’s bringing Mags from the base
now. I souped her up. Raven recommends Ryloth. You can see the hanging rock
gardens and it’s always twilight in the cities.”
Charles looked at Erik, shrugging with badly feigned indifference. “He is
Commander Rogers now, we’d better obey.”
Erik nodded seriously. “ And we should definitely follow Raven’s recommendation
to visit the home planet of the Twi’lek because there is no way her suggestion
is biased by her habit of getting crushes on them.”
After a day of fighting and worrying, they finally ate and, although Charles
thought he could have survived on the weightlessness of relief, the roasted
meat and boiled herbs were better than anything on Coruscant.
“Charles,” said Erik, when they were full. “Come for a walk.”
“You want me to follow you, unarmed, into a unknown forest, in the dark?” asked
Charles, coyly.
“Yes.”
“Well, okay, but only because I can’t resist a man in uniform,” said Charles,
“even if it is a camo poncho.”
“Hmm, yes, well I love a man in a fluro orange jumpsuit and helmet hair,” Erik
responded.
“At least I still have a bit left,” said Charles, forlornly stroking his
receding thatch.
“I think we have everything we need,” Erik told him, and kissed him. Charles
sighed into it, and followed Erik into the dark.
When they got to a quiet spot, Erik backed Charles against a tree and began to
indulgently smear kisses over his neck and jaw. Charles couldn’t see anything
through the pitch black but he could feel the structure of Erik’s wide
shoulders and he could hear his husband growling possessively. Charles breathed
in deeply, the familiar grease and gas, curiosity and class, heat and hard work
scent. If someone could smell like determination that is what Erik smelt like
to Charles and it made him hard.
Erik noticed. “My eager jax, always ready for me.” He rubbed at Charles’ crotch
and hefted him onto his thigh. He pressed in so his thigh rolled, lifting
Charles’ balls and grazing over the length of his erection, and back again. He
cranked the tension in Charles’ groin up with his thigh while encouraging
pliancy of Charles’ mouth with his tongue.
“Erik, ungh, I think it might be an offence to soil my flight suit,” said
Charles, before raking his teeth along the underside of Erik’s jaw. Erik
decided that was tacit encouragement to tug at each of their uniforms until
they were naked and lying on the camo poncho.
“I’m pretty sure I heard you tell Tony just the other day that you were too old
to fuck anywhere but a bed these days,” Charles accused Erik, while wrapping
his legs firmly around him as if to prevent escape.
“That’s because he was trying to find out who had sex on his work station,”
explained Erik.
“Ooh, good red herring,” Charles said, "I told you we would get away with it."
He then promptly forgot about anything that wasn’t Erik’s expert hands on his
body and the indomitable urge to get closer to him.
As they scrambled around after, looking for their clothes with tiny glow discs,
Erik grumbled, “I’m going to have to invent some better solution for portable
illumination than this.” And Charles laughed. Laughed and pushed his still
delightful man against the tree for one more kiss, even though one leg was in
his pants and the other was being nipped by the night cold.
Erik and Charles joined the feasting again, undetected but for Chewbacca who
roared the Wookiee complaint for ‘typical’ and turned away.
Commander Roger’s arrival could hardly be missed when Tony leap-frogged over an
Ewok to get to him. He jumped into Steve’s arms, wrapping his arms and legs
around the former super soldier and kissing him unabashed. He jiggled up and
down a few times in a tauntaun riding motion, waving his arms and showing no
shame despite being a grown man toted about like a tired, indulged child.
Steve didn’t even seem to notice the weight, scooting Tony to one hip so he
could greet Akbar, shake General Calrissian’s hand and kiss the Princess on the
cheek. He clapped Charles and Erik on their backs and managed to fend off a
playful attack from Bucky’s metallic arm, all without jostling his snuggling,
genius boyfriend, who was making impressive progress creating a love-bite
necklace on Steve’s pale neck. When Bucky had dropped into his default
position, one step behind his best friend, Charles asked after Raven, Natasha,
Hank and Logan.
“We are negotiating Logan’s release. We expect Natasha will just escape her
captivity now she doesn’t need to be there. Raven is wounded, not seriously
though, making her way back to base and Hank is fine, already there,” Steve
reported. “Okay, you crazy punks, get outa here.”
Charles hugged him. Steve whispered, “Thank you,” his eyes flicking to Bucky.
Charles grinned and Steve said, “Not goodbye, Charles.”
“Absolutely not, Steven.”
“What about me?” roared Tony, “Where’s the love for poor, ole Tony?” Charles
hugged him, and Tony squeezed back, then said, “Arrrgh, get off me.” He shook
Erik’s hand. “Come visit,” he commanded.
“Yes,” agreed Erik, “we can build that rotator repulser-lift globe-shaped
companion light we were discussing.”
Finally, they'd said goodbye to everyone within the main circle of huts and
could head to their freighter hand in hand.
Later, as they exited hyperspace, Charles left the bridge yelling, “Come on
Erik. Put Mags on autopilot now. It’s my bloody honeymoon.”
“I’m still trying to figure out what Tony souped up,” Erik called back.
“Ah, um, I think I know,” said Charles slowly from the interior of the craft.
Erik switched to auto and joined Charles at their bunkroom door.
The bunks had been removed and one wall was completely inlaid with shelves and
cupboards. Charles’ books and Erik’s tools were tidily arranged beside their
clothes. There was a massive bed, with gaudy metallic red and gold blankets. It
was flanked by compact bedside drawers on which stacks of towels and energy
drinks were strategically placed.
Nestled between the puffy pillows was the hugest jar of lube in the galaxy,
adorned with Tony’s near illegible aurebesh. It said:
This lube has been engineered by me, and will give tighter, more even, pull
down. You should need less stiction, which will be helpful for your ageing
equipment, and you should achieve a kinetic friction coefficient greater than
1. Happy honeymoon, boys.
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