the veins of you, the veins of me like great forest trees

[violenthearted]

Who: That guy who has his fingers in your brain and his BFF Magnetface
What: Five seconds without hideous peril?
Where: House 8
When: Day 89, eventides
Notes: Just this.



Aside from its obvious emptiness, Erik had latched onto this house because it was small enough to keep them alone, or so he'd hoped. Between Charles' habit of bringing home strays (and it wasn't lost on Erik that that was exactly how he'd been ...acquired) and the strange revolving nature of the population of the Cape, however, they seemed to be full up on occupants lately.

As dusk falls on this particular evening, however, they appear to be blessedly alone, and although the muzzy light makes him feel his usual tiredness more than usual, he's loathe to actually consider retiring for the night. No more shared dreams, thank you ever so much. A few too many of them, even the ones that weren't his own, had been far too familiar for his liking.

He opts for more coffee instead, and returns to the living room and his book with it steaming in one hand. This may look like relaxation, especially when Erik sprawls on most of the couch, taking up space with a deliberateness that suggests he practices as much, but of course Charles will know better. Erik doesn't even settle down when he's unconscious, and he certainly has yet to accept what appears to be a permanent residence here.

Still. No one is running or screaming, that's a nice change.

Comments

[mentis]

It had taken him a spectacularly short time to realise what kind of impact bringing the two girls would have on their relationship. More than half an hour and he'd had to restrain himself from putting a guiding hand on Erik's waist as he passed. He'd have done it even still, had he known, because that's Charles' very nature. It doesn't mean that he won't seize the opportunity when the house is silent.

So he picks up his own book ( one of the ones he's 'borrowed' from the library, it's brethren still stacked on his floor ). Then he motions at Erik with one hand, "I really think having all that limb is a secondary mutation you know. But be a dear and budge up."

[violenthearted]

"Budge up," Erik repeats from under his eyebrows, stirring himself from the adventures of Philip Marlowe to address this outburst of Britishness (he's reading The Big Sleep, for the record, which is also purloined from the library). "Does that mean that you want me to move?"

He knows what it means, he's just being a dick. Fondly.

[mentis]

"You bloody well know what it means."

Erik is very distracting like this, softer around the edges and Charles feels his heart give a faint flutter at how utterly head over heels he is. Really, it's ridiculous and he taps Erik playfully on the shoulder with his book, accent suddenly shifting into something much more English and much more posh. Because two can play at this game, "Now stop being obstinate and move, there's a good chap."

[violenthearted]

Erik grumbles, because it is his right and privilege to do so, but because it's only funny after a point to pretend he remains entirely ignorant of Charles' prodding he does haul up his ten thousand miles of leg and move out of the ...center of the sofa, grinning as he does. All teeth.

"Careful," he warns, once he's resettled himself to his own liking, one arm taking over the side of the furniture and the other draped across the back, "you'll sprout one of those--" he gestures vaguely around his head with his own book, making it flap like wings.

This is apparently meant to indicate one of those white wimple things Victoria had been so fond of, although that's probably only clear because Charles reads minds.

Whimsy. It's what's for dinner.

[mentis]

He catches the edge of that thought and his expression shifts into outright and disgruntled disgust before he takes the space Erik has vacated. He sits far too close and he obviously knows exactly what he's doing because his hand pats Erik's knee almost playfully.

"It's a good thing you're horrendously handsome, darling."

It's barely a threat because he can't form those around his ridiculous smile.

[violenthearted]

Erik eyes this invasion of his space with a sidelong glance that is mostly put upon, and returns to his book, feeling that, having induced that expression, he has won. Horrendous handsomeness aside.

Although he does take the time to spindle Charles' fingers a bit with his own first; some things are important.

[mentis]

He's hiding his smile behind his book but his thumb strokes easily over Erik's knuckles and there's a decidedly pink tinge to his cheeks. The slow burn in their relationship is something he's been painstakingly trying to build up and it seems to be taking its hold.

He knows Erik, knows that physical affection is still strange for him. Charles wants to show him that it can be good, that this is allowed. So he presses against him and lets his mouth curl up at the corners.

Minutes pass and then Charles is beaming an image of Erik vehemently trying to tug his own whimple off his head ... What? He has an active imagination.

[violenthearted]

Damn it Charles, at this rate Erik is never going to get to the bottom of who killed that chauffeur. (Spoiler: Not even Raymond Chandler knows.) He lowers the novel he's basically using as a shield, slowly and with either amusement or murder sparkling in his eyes. It could be either!

Charles' gradual nearness, in tandem, does lead him to assume reading is probably done for the afternoon; it's been far longer since he's experienced affection that wasn't basically a brief detour on the road to...all things laid. Not that Erik would ever put it that way, so narrative will help him out.

Ergo: he takes his cue to grope Charles a little. Stealthily--no it isn't, they're alone and he assumes the telepath present would spring back to a more appropriate distance if anyone were about to knock at the door.

[mentis]

He laughs a little, hooking one leg over Erik's knee and lifting his hand to run his fingers through his hair. He pets him a little, like Erik is a particularly willful cat who needs his back scratched, fingers digging into his skull.

"I bet the gardener did it."

Nodding to the book.

[violenthearted]

"Doubtful," Erik contends, mostly because there is no gardener. "Don't ruin the ending for me, even if you can see it from here."

Does telepathy extend to the end of mysteries? He has no idea, but it seems a fine opportunity to troll. His own severity is a bit undermined by how he's leaning into the petting, but never mind that.

[mentis]

Only if he's run into a person who has read and been thinking of the book. Erik's the only one he knows with a fondness so he keeps rubbing circles against the back of his skull, his voice teasing.

"Darling, as if I would. If you want to rot your mind with it, I won't stop you."

[violenthearted]

Erik's features school themselves into a parody of affronted dignity, hefting the book at Charles like it's some kind of bludgeon. "My mind remains entirely intact." If he were more English (or English ...at all), his tone suggests there might be an 'I'll have you know' hanging on the end of that sentence.

"This--don't stop doing that, by the way--" because he has priorities even amidst defending his reading choices, "is a classic."

[mentis]

"Oh, a classic," he responds, the laugh in his eyes and the tone of his voice as he continues to - well - pet Erik, "How terribly remiss of me."

He's all but leaning into Erik now, close enough to take his hand if he weren't otherwise occupied, "Do continue then, let me know how your classic ends."

[violenthearted]

Erik pauses for a barely perceptible instant and does the exact opposite of continuing, which is to set his book down on the nearest end table and turn fully toward Charles, long hands lacing together in his lap. "You seem to want something."

He suspects 'something' involves a blowjob (he is wrong). "If you're finished impugning my taste."

[mentis]

He hums, a small questioning tone to the sound, his fingertips smoothing over the curve of his ear. It's gentle and aimless and his expression is a little confused but still very much content to just touch.

"I think you have rather splendid taste, considering."

It's ego through and through but he thinks after the last few days Erik knows that's not entirely true.

[violenthearted]

The look Erik passes his new limpet under his eyelashes would confirm as much, but he doesn't mention anything. He's not, as far as he can say for his own self, fit to counsel anyone in that regard. Instead one corner of his mouth slopes upward; his expression of amusement is genuine, if a little rueful. "I'd say so."

He's quiet for a few minutes, enjoying the petting - since that is ...exactly what it is; Erik may be a few steps above 'feral cat', but--in point of fact maybe those more easily learn to accept affection for its own sake than Erik does. Cats don't have to see a point.

"What exactly are you doing?" he inquires, a little wary.

[mentis]

The space between his brow furrows as though he doesn't quite catch Erik's drift, his hand ceasing momentarily. Some people have shied away from Charles and his penchant for reckless touching, he supposes he should have considered how full on her might have come across but the urge to just be near Erik constantly had been enough to blot out that little voice.

"Do you not like it?"

[violenthearted]

Of all the things that unsettle Erik, uncertainty may be at the top of the list. If he has his feet under him then all he has to understand is where to put one step ahead of the next. Charles, for good or for ill, seems to have the ability to make this happen one out of every three times he speaks to Erik. Even after all the time they've spent together he never quite knows where his feet are, and he's not sure if he's worked out whether he likes that or not. On one hand he's--he's not afraid of falling, exactly, but he's as cautious as any other man would be in the dark, but then on the other ...there's suddenly so much new ground for him to cover.

"Do I seem like I don't like it?" he returns, wry and gruff, and then a little more reassuring, tipping his head into Charles' hand in a motion that will never get tired of cat metaphors: "I like it."

Yes. Obviously. "But I don't know what you want."

[mentis]

"Ah."

All of a sudden an understanding fills out Charles' expression. He tends to forget that this is new territory, that how quickly Erik responded to the physical part of their relationship does not necessarily transcend to this, the sentimental soft parts of them.

"I don't actually want anything," he replies, his knee pressed against Erik's and a sweetness to his voice, "I just felt like touching you for the simple sake of being close to you. Is that all right?"

[violenthearted]

Physicality is easy. His insistence on silence has less - or nothing - to do with personal shame, as that morality is for humans, and more his inherent distrust of his fellow man.

But Charles knows all of that, whether or not he agrees. It's an argument Erik hasn't felt the need to have yet.

So. "It's all right," he decides, not with quick reassurance, nor with much hesitance, but more uncertainty. He's slow to speak inasmuch as he doesn't want to demonstrate that. Of all the people on the Cape (or uh, in the world) Charles is certainly the closest to Erik, but he still--vulnerability, still, is not to be displayed.

He closes the hand furthest away from Charles into a careful fist, resting loosely on the arm of the sofa. "I don't understand you in the least."

That probably shouldn't be a compliment, but Charles is probably used to Erik's ...Erikness. He has yet to make a move to return the simplicity of Charles' affection, but ...baby steps.

[mentis]

"You know, most days I find it very difficult. I see you and I want to throw myself into those impressive arms of yours. I want to ravage you. I feel consumed by my extreme and uncontrollable lust for you."

He smiles though and it's cheeky and sweet all at once, his voice absolutely filthy, blue eyes fixed on Erik's. But then it softens and his voice changes into something almost sleepy, smoothing the hair away from Erik's forehead.

"And there are some days where I simply must touch you because if I don't get to I feel like my affection for you might burst out of my chest." Lowering his eyelashes, "I know that would disturb you greatly so that's where the - ah - petting comes from."

[violenthearted]

Initially this earns Charles a look somewhere between intensely fond and and a little amused, only because Erik isn't quite sure how serious he is, what with terms like ravaging and uncontrollable lust being strewn around. Then again Charles is more inclined to admit to any sort of feeling than he. Erik's still not sure how he was the one to voice the transcendental notes in their relationship, and it's been over a month.

"It's the same for me," he tells somewhere around the floor, gruff and trying not to sound like he's making an admission of some kind. "But you know that."

Even if he doesn't often demonstrate. Given that they're hiding their relationship from everyone on the Cape with the exception of River, such clandestine encounters don't exactly lend themselves to cuddling after, but--when they have the time for that, there Erik does touch just for the sake of it. Initiating otherwise seems like arriving in medias res. He takes Charles' free hand with a kind of caution anyway, linking their fingers together and skimming his thumb over the fine veins in the underside of the wrist.

[mentis]

Charles wouldn't even have to be a telepath for Erik to feel the literal delight rolling off him. He hums a little, watching his partner under the sweep of his eyelashes, a smile playing on his features.

"See, the world didn't end. The apocalypse has yet to come. We're fine."

[violenthearted]

Erik snorts, but doesn't release Charles' fingers. "I'm aware it's nothing so dire."

And yet. He's not insecure about much, but he has so little memory of how these things are done, how intimacy is constructed around the people inside of it. Even though he's shrugged off any societal or religious ingrained mores that would say their feelings for one another are wrong, he's still much more used to affection with women.

[mentis]

"You know if I ever make you feel uncomfortable you can tell me, yes?"

He doesn't pull away or put space between them, he just wants to lay it out in case Erik needs to hear it. "I won't take offense."