He does as instructed, slower and tantalisingly light, as though he can tease Erik into health again. In between breaths, he lets his lips map out formless thoughts against his friend's throat. He shakes underneath Charles and if the telepath were a better man he'd stop this right now, fetch him tea, help him, but his great flaw is need. He needs Erik in the same way he needs to be liked, as though once deprived of love Charles will drink of it wherever he can.

"Don't tease, I rather like the idea of you reading Byron to me. We'd be better with the Romantics," Lips moving to Erik's ear, a breathless hum, "I think you'd sound rather pretty. Especially when I make your voice break with my mouth around you, mm?"

Because Erik is always taunting him into being as filthy as he possibly can and his blood is singing in his veins and the hands on his hips and the slow arch of Erik is enough to make him lose a little of his decorum.