Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/331750.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      X-Men:_First_Class_(2011)_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Mystique/Charles_Xavier
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Games, Telepathy, Fingerfucking, Mutual_Masturbation,
      Making_Out
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-02-02 Words: 1997
****** Like Songs I Never Learned ******
by pearl_o
Summary
     It starts as a game, like so many things between them.
Raven doesn't remember much about her past, and Charles learns to stop asking
her about it fairly quickly, after he figures out how unhappy the questions
make her.
(It's many years later before he realizes his powers have become finely tuned
enough that he could probably go inside her head and help her find some of
those hidden things, enough control to do that without damaging any of the
other delicate connections. By that point, though, it has been a long time
since Raven has welcomed him into her head.)
They don't know how old Raven was, or where she came from, or what her family
was like.
"That's okay," Charles tells her at the beginning, putting his arm around her
shoulders. "You're here now. We have each other. It's better than a regular
family, even, because we chose each other." Raven is more his family than his
stepbrother, or stepfather, or even Mummy is. She's much more important.
It's hard for Charles to even comprehend how wonderful it is now that he
doesn't have to hide his ability always anymore. He isn't sure he even knows
how much of his life was spent in hiding it until he had something he could be
himself with.
They spend endless hours in Charles's bedroom, playing and practicing. It
starts as a game, like so many things between them.
Charles sits on his bed, eyes closed, one hand held up to his forehead as he
tries to focus. "A blue hot-air balloon," he says slowly. He opens his eyes
with a grin.
Raven rolls her eyes into his mirror. She's in the body of the man who sold
them milkshakes when they went into town last weekend. They only saw him for a
few minutes, and she and Charles both think there's something off about the
ears and nose, so she's been examining herself as she makes minute changes,
trying to perfect the impersonation.
"Well, you're not making it very difficult," Charles points out. "You're
thinking so loudly and obviously at me. Come, try harder!"
Raven turns around, shifting back into her everyday blonde form as she does so.
"What do you mean, try harder?"
"Make it a challenge," Charles says. "Try - think something loudly at me, like
you just did, but think something else, too, but hidden behind it. Do you see
what I mean?"
"I suppose I can try," Raven says, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"Tell me when you're ready," Charles says. He scoots over, until their thighs
are touching, and rests his hand on her leg. His ability wasn't affected by
physical contact, not really, but touching Raven didn't hurt it either. It
always made him feel calmer, anyway.
Raven takes a deep breath. "All right, I'm ready."
Charles bites his lip and tries to concentrate. The top thought is easy,
completely transparent: a roast chicken and potatoes, sitting on the dining
room table. He can even smell it, feel the hunger grow in his stomach. "You
could have just said you were hungry," he says, smiling, but he keeps going. He
can feel the secret thought, hidden off in the corner of her mind, just out of
his reach, and he follows it.
"Charles," Raven whispers.
"Shhh," Charles says. His fingers have gone tight, gripping Raven's knee, but
she's not in pain, so it can wait - he's almost there, but not quite. It's a
little like untying an especially complicated knot.
"Charles," Raven says again, more urgently.
"I'm almost there, Raven, just another moment-"
And there it is.
He can feel the blush rise up, from his cheeks all the way down to his neck and
upper chest. He takes his hand off of Raven like he's been scalded, and he
shifts the way he's sitting, trying to hide his sudden erection.
Raven is smirking.
"You're a terrible sister," Charles says, shaking his head.
"Oh, don't say that," Raven says. She pushes him back against the bedpost and
climbs into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. She's not wearing real
clothes right now, Charles knows, it's just part of her form - but the clothes
feel real, the hem of her short skirt trailing against his corduroys. "I'm more
than a sister. Better."
"You're something," Charles says, but she just laughs at him softly before she
kisses him.
Raven is the only person Charles has ever kissed - the only person Charles has
ever done anything with. Sometimes she looks different, taller or darker or
plumper, but it's always Raven's mind, fond and affectionate, familiar and
safe.
He runs his hands up and down her back as they kiss and she clings closer to
him, pressing her breasts against his chest. Every time she moves, she rubs
against Charles's prick - and she's doing it on purpose, he knows, he can feel
how proud of herself she is, every reaction she wrings out of him.
You can touch me, Raven sends to him. He breaks the kiss with a gasp, squeezing
his fingers into her waist and breathing heavily into her neck.
"Are you sure?" Charles says. They haven't - making out, yes, a few times now,
but... He tries to look into her face, but Raven turns her head, kissing his
ear. He tries her mind, instead: she feels a little nervous, but pleased,
anticipatory. There might be something else in the background, but Charles
doesn't have the focus to untie a knot, not right now, so he leaves it be.
Raven takes his hand in her own and places it on her upper thigh, beneath her
skirt. Charles rubs his fingertips in a slow circle on her soft skin. He likes
the way it makes her shiver. The edge of the circle touches the lace of her
underwear, between her legs. He swallows hard and slips his fingers under the
fabric.
Inside her panties, she's slick and hot everywhere. He wonders briefly if she'd
let him look, because suddenly more than anything he wants to see, see every
gorgeous piece of her, but he doesn't ask, too afraid of scaring her away.
Raven makes a slight noise as he starts to move his fingers, gently exploring,
letting her wetness cover him.
Charles isn't an innocent about sex, despite his own inexperience. He couldn't
be, really, not with his telepathy. He's spent enough time in public with men
(or sometimes, even, women) thinking about their wives, girlfriends, their
fantasies, their dirty pictures, to know something about the way things are.
But the reality, happening to him, is much different. It's almost overwhelming,
in a good way.
He presses kisses to her throat as he pushes his finger inside her. Raven cries
out, her vagina fluttering gently around him. Mentally, he sends her a faint
concern.
"It's good," Raven says. She shifts again, lifting up and back down again. She
rests her hand in his hair, holding tightly but not pulling.
He kisses her pulse point. He tries to think of what he's seen in those other
people's minds, and gropes around clumsily until he brushes across a small nub.
"Um," Raven says; he knows, even without seeing her face, that she's frowning.
"Too much. Just - be gentler. Soft."
Soft, Charles thinks. Gentle.
"Oh, yes, that's - keep doing that, please, Charles," Raven says, letting out a
sigh.
He can't help thinking, as he touches her, of what it would feel like if she
let him do more. There was ways of doing it without getting pregnant, he's seen
them. His penis, in this same place, where it's warm and wet and clutching at
him-
He can't control the way his hips thrust up at the thought, his dick pushing up
insistently, as if it could make room there right now, through his own trousers
and Raven's underpants and his hand. It causes him to lose the steady rhythm of
his touches, and he can feel a brief wave of disappointment Raven sends without
even meaning to. "Sorry," Charles says, "sorry." He plants his feet on the bed,
holding his own body as still as he can. It's so difficult, though, especially
when Raven starts moving her own hips, languid waves in time with her faint
hitching breaths.
Once, he woke up in the middle of the night, and he could feel Raven's mind,
bright as a firecracker, and he was tired, disoriented, he didn't realize what
she was doing, not until he was already in her mind, and it had felt just like
this, this intense thrilling pleasure. He should have left as soon as he
realized, but he'd been stunned, frozen in place, until she reached her
shuddering climax. He'd detached then, suddenly, finding himself alone in his
own bed, his hand wrapped around his erection.
"Charles," Raven says, and Charles knows she's reaching her peak, it's the same
feeling as it was then, perhaps even better, and he's shaking through it just
as she is.
There are aftershocks still radiating out to him as he moves his hand out of
her panties. His hand is so slick, so covered with her. He can smell it, from
here. He wants to taste it, but again he's afraid of scaring her, so he just
rests it back on her thigh.
Raven tilts her head down - for a second her face is one he doesn't recognize,
but then it transforms again, back into her most familiar form. She kisses him
again, soft, teasing, and when he sends her his frustration she giggles against
his mouth. The next kiss is deeper and slower, and he can't think of anything
else. It takes him completely by surprised when he feels Raven's hand land on
the fly of his trousers, pushing down lightly on the bulge of his erection. He
comes immediately at the touch, cussing out loud.
He's still catching his breath again when Raven scoots back, resting on her
haunches and looking Charles squarely in the eye. She's grinning. "You're
blushing again," she informs him. "Your entire face is beet red."
"Well-" Charles says helplessly. "We can't all control how we look, you know."
If anything, it makes Raven grin more. "You were surprised when I touched you,"
she says. "Couldn't you tell I was thinking about it? I wasn't even trying to
hide it. Honestly, Charles."
"You are not nearly as funny as you think you are," Charles says. The cooling
sticky mess in his underwear has become quite uncomfortable. He gets to his
feet and crosses the room to his dresser. He thinks about telling Raven to turn
around while he undresses - but that's silly, isn't it, after what they just
did? If she's not ready to see his backside, it's her responsibility not to
look, he decides. He takes out a clean pair of boxer shorts and trousers and
takes off the dirty ones, cleaning himself off a little before he puts on the
new clothing.
When he turns around again, Raven's shifted again; she nows looks exactly like
Charles. She's lying on the bed, back against the headboard, legs crossed at
the ankle. She smiles at Charles quite innocently when he scowls at her.
"You know I hate it when you do that," he says.
"Don't be such a fuddy-duddy," Raven says, but she changes back, anyway. "I'm
tired of practicing, anyway," she adds. She moves over when Charles comes back
over the bed; it's small, but just wide enough for them to sit next to each
other comfortably.
Charles puts his arm around her, kisses her hair as she snuggles in close. He
brushes their minds together, the feelings of love and contentment and family
sliding easily between them. Raven isn't thinking about anything in particular,
and Charles does his best to follow her example, to let this moment be nothing
but this moment, nothing else, no searching or wondering or reaching out at
all.
He doesn't completely succeed, but these moments with Raven are closer than
he'll come again.
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