Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7791676.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      X-Men_(Alternate_Timeline_Movies)
  Relationship:
      En_Sabah_Nur/Charles_Xavier, Erik_Lehnsherr/En_Sabah_Nur/Charles_Xavier
  Character:
      En_Sabah_Nur, Charles_Xavier, Erik_Lehnsherr
  Additional Tags:
      Age_Difference, Loss_of_Innocence, sort_of, Intercrural_Sex, Anal_Sex,
      Coming_In_Pants
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-09-05 Updated: 2017-01-02 Chapters: 2/? Words: 1797
****** Uncle Aten ******
by letosatie
Summary
     “Aten,” said Charles, wishing his voice reverberated from more than
     an undeveloped chest. “I think I have not very nephew-like feelings
     for you.”
     Aten didn't smile to make light, he didn't frown to reflect shame, he
     simply said, “I know I have not very uncle-like feelings for you,
     Charles.”
     Charles tried very hard to not to drop his eyes like a boy, but hold
     Aten's gaze like an equal. It was easier to breathe when he looked
     away.
      
      
     In which Charles learns to speak Latin with his Uncle En Sabah Nur.
Notes
     On tumblr here.
     Obviously Gerec's fault.
***** An outing to town. *****
Sharon Xavier’s cousin had become a cautionary tale, to be whispered over egg
nog in corners at Christmas and thrown at the children with a flourish when
they were too wild.
“She married a foreign fellow,” said Sharon, lips almost disappeared in
disapproval, “gave up her title, as he was common. They travelled, and boasted
of their uncivilized activities as if they were something to be proud of. And
then, she was dead by some horrid disease that we don’t have in proper
countries, and worse, one of four dead wives that… apocalypse of a man has
had.”
The admonishment had very little effect on Raven who, already short of breath
in the stifling big top of the manor where Charles and Raven were expected to
tread the tightrope of etiquette, heard only the adventure and freedom in those
stories. It had no effect on Charles, who had weighed the giddy happiness and
genuine affection his second cousin Elizabeth and “Uncle” Aten carried around
them like a cloak, against the whorl of confusion and jealousy he often gauged
from his mother, and came to his own conclusion.
Charles kept in touch.
It was easy in term time, letters sent and received through the school where
Charles boarded, a little more difficult to meet up the one time a year Uncle
Aten visited America.
Raven and Charles got permission for a trip into town, where Charles
‘suggested’ to their chaperone that she deserved a cup of tea and a long
peaceful lunch without them. He led Raven to a hotel and asked the girl at the
desk to please direct them to one of their guests, En Sabah Nur. “Room 237,”
she told them, and they grinned at each other before walking arm in arm to the
lift.
[https://nz.pinterest.com/pin/129408189270889062/]
Uncle Aten opened the door to them. He did not seem to have aged, but Charles
spotted a new scar on the underside of Aten’s jaw as he scooped the teenagers
into a three way embrace. Aten smelt good, crisp and rich, cardamom and
turmeric. Charles could feel Aten’s hand, firmly pressed into the dip between
his shoulder blades, could feel it through his clothes, his skin and his
vertebrae, as if it was directly plucking the nerves in Charles’ spinal column.
It was a brilliant afternoon with tea and cake from room service, gifts from
Australia of all places, the warmth of Aten’s approval and stories met with
laughter and enthusiasm. But Charles was distracted. He was sixteen now, he had
had a growth spurt, though hopefully not his last one. And Aten’s eyes scanned
him with a different approval. It made Charles’ breath stutter. It made the
line from his belly button to his groin sting.
“I’m going up to Bard in the fall,” he told his Uncle, “It’s early, but I’m
ready.”
“Of course you are, you’ve grown up so much. I’ve never met a young person with
your level of maturity.” Aten’s voice alighted on Charles like steam, pinpricks
that cooled his pores but boiled all over, made him dizzy.
Aten walked them to the atrium before it got too late. “Be good,” he told Raven
as he spun her around. He gripped Charles by the shoulder, “I’ll visit at Bard,
Charles, if you like?”
“Yes, I… I’d really like that.”
“Good.”
He hadn’t looked away. His hand was still cinching Charles’ trapezius. All of
Charles’ awareness was anchored to Aten, his body by the shoulder and his brain
in the recesses of his pupils.
“We had better go, Charles,” Raven said, tugging him.
“Yes,” Charles repeated. “I’ll see you Uncle Aten.”
“You can probably call me Aten, Charles. A college man now, aren’t you?”
A blush rose in Charles’ face and neck, flaring in sync with a thrill of
anticipation, and college seemed an even greater wonderland and September
seemed too far away.
***** First green is gold *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
When En Sabah Nur visited Charles at Bard, he was like an oasis. Charles had
been thirsty for attention, and Aten's gaze was a sudden and welcome drenching.
He was there to meet Charles on a Friday, and followed Charles on a tour of the
campus with enthusiasm, saying, “Brilliant,” and “that seems sensible,” and
other encouragements. Charles began to shiver in the October afternoon. Aten
shrugged out of his coat and held it out for Charles to slip into and, oh what
a delightful metaphor for how Charles felt when enveloped in Aten's attention,
an antipole to home, where being noticed was like walking on gravel: sharp,
stinging, a relief to be at the other side.
Charles wanted to show Aten everything and show Aten to everyone. The interest
that was puffed over Charles from the pretty girls, affable guys and fond
professors, was shot like an unwavering laser at his uncle. But best, best of
all, was how Aten ignored the looks, politely nodded at the greetings and,
then, turned straight back to Charles with a secret smile.
They went to dinner, and Charles stared a bit apprehensively at his full glass
of wine, while Aten ordered for them. It was languid meal stretched out like
gum over two hours, Aten maintaining contact, eye or ankle or with his palm
cupping Charles' fingers. They'd removed their jackets, though Aten was still
in his waistcoat, Charles could see his silver belt buckle just above the crisp
white napkin draped properly over Aten's lap. Charles looked up. Aten was
watching him and his smile was unfamiliar to Charles: fond, content, knowing,
predatory, a smirk with hope.
“Aten,” said Charles, wishing his voice reverberated from more than an
undeveloped chest. “I think I have not very nephew-like feelings for you.”
Aten didn't smile to make light, he didn't frown to reflect shame, he simply
said, “I know I have not very uncle-like feelings for you, Charles. You, so
much greater than the house you've come from.” He pinched Charles' chin with
firm fingers, “I think it's the spark of curiosity in your eyes I love the
most.”
Charles tried very hard to not to drop his eyes like a boy, but hold Aten's
gaze like an equal. It was easier to breathe when he looked away.
Aten signalled to the waiter for the check. “You understand, I can't stay here,
but I can adore you in my absence and ensure you are thoroughly loved during my
visits.”
It was dark and crisp outside the restaurant. Every time Charles snuck a glance
at Aten, he was already looking at Charles. The heat in Charles' cheeks and
ears kept Charles' temperature constant despite the season.
Charles boarded with a widow during term, so that his dinners and his laundry
were taken care of. She waved from the sitting room and Charles brought Aten in
to be introduced. Mrs Cutler was very charmed. Charles was unsurprised.
“Will you show me your room, Charles?” Aten inquired mildly.
Charles nodded, unable to even make his voice work. He led Aten up the stairs.
His small room was chilly but he didn't stop Aten from taking his coat then his
jacket, and two shirt buttons had been disentangled by clever fingers before
Charles even noticed.
Charles had kissed a girl at cotillion, and his dorm mates at school had
exchanged hand jobs, but it was May to September how it felt when Aten kissed
him. That had been furtive flashes of elation that sparked in Charles’ brain
and was added to the dragon hoard of information there.
This was a drowning. Charles was floating, inverted, unanchored.
Charles was not a good boy, not according to his mother, not according to
anyone that knew he was a mindreading freak. Somehow, Aten allowed Charles to
be good, to feel good. Charles was quite suddenly determined to honour Aten’s
faith; Aten had cracked the concrete of his upbringing and Charles would sprout
green and hopeful from the sidewalk from now on.
Charles pressed up onto his toes, and then forward again when Aten dispatched
the tension of his fly and gripped him through his underwear. Aten was much
rougher than Charles ever was with himself. Charles groaned but didn’t pull
away - only held on tighter around Aten’s neck when his knees started to shake.
Charles chased the strong hand in his pants. He was smart, but he was also
curious. He was simply chasing information, chasing results. He thrust harder.
Aten cooed, “Yes, Charles. Move for me.”
Charles’ head sagged backward, all tension reserved for his groin and the arm
clipped around Aten’s neck like a carabiner. There was no feeling in, no
connection to, his legs or head; everything reserved for Aten and their points
of contact.
Everything was hot; Aten’s tongue in Charles’ mouth, his hand rubbing hard, his
breath rolling over Charles’ cheek, and his voice humming, “My darling boy, I
want everything you’ve got to give me.” And Charles went stiff on an inhale and
there was only heartbeat and Aten’s warmth and heat like Charles had never
felt.
Slowly, Charles’ body, then Aten, then the room, then the sticky mess in
Charles’ pants came back.
“Do you think Mrs Cutler reports back to your mother, Charles?” Aten asked as
they surveyed his underwear.
“I'm certain of it,” Charles said, frowning.
“Let me,” Aten commanded gently and peeled the Y-fronts down before cleaning
Charles tenderly with a flannel. God, even that felt good. “Get changed,” Aten
said, “and pack a weekend bag. Be sure to bring those clothes and we’ll have
them washed while we’re away. Can’t have Mrs Cutler washing them now.”
Aten left him and Charles hurried to follow directions, just clicking his case
closed when Aten knocked. He grinned at Charles when the door was opened. “I
advised Mrs Cutler I'm taking you away for an educational trip,” he said,
kissing Charles briefly. “Come on, I have a room in Hudson at the St. Charles.
Appropriate, no?”
“Oh,” said Charles.
It was late when they pulled into the hotel car park, the brick structure of
the hotel fuzzy and lurching in Charles’ tired vision. Aten checked them in and
Charles followed a step behind, trying hard to keep his shoulders up. He was
still growing, not as fast as Cain, but sometimes hunger or tiredness came upon
him adamant and dogged as a toddler.
The room was neat, nothing like a city hotel but proudly cleaned and set into
impeccable angles. Aten slung his suitcase on one of the twin beds and smiled
at Charles. “Sleep, my boy. We’ll have an adventure tomorrow.” He kissed
Charles on the forehead and lit a cigarette on the way to the armchair on the
other side of the room. Charles undressed clumsily and crawled under the covers
sighing. He closed his eyes on the warmth of Aten’s smile.
Chapter End Notes
     this is getting longer - oops
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!