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Charles Does Not Buy a Shamwow

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::Maybe I should buy a Shamwow,:: Charles mused out loud, sending the thought gently towards Erik as his fingers continued to draw nonsensical patterns on the warm skin of his lower back.

He could feel Erik’s forehead crease where Erik was burrowed against his chest, his nose brushing Charles’ sternum. He shifted a little, nuzzling closer to Charles’ neck, arms and legs still entangling Charles like a particularly territorial giant squid.

::What?:: he asked blearily.

“On the tv,” Charles explained, nodding towards the screen in the corner, visible to him where he was propped against the couch’s armrest.

Plastered as Erik was on top of Charles, he couldn’t see the screen, but the sound was still on loud enough to be just barely audible over the hum of the ancient nearby radiator and the hush of their breathing. They’d been ostensibly watching some horrible 80’s action movie on it earlier as they snuggled on the couch. The network had been forced to edit out the movie’s swear words – and there had been an alarming amount of them – pretty obviously, and he and Erik had spent a good hour or so poking fun at it and laughing. After a while, though, their joking had quieted down and Charles had begun to let his hands wander southwards where Erik had been sitting between his legs, resting with his back against Charles’ front. Soon after, Erik had turned around and the tv had been completely forgotten for some time. Apparently in the interlude, when their attention had been focused elsewhere, the movie had ended and an infomercial had started up.

Erik sent Charles the mental equivalent of an eye roll. ::I must have really blown your mind if you want to buy a Shamwow now,:: he said. ::Made you lose a few brain cells.::

Charles gave him an admonishing ghost of a pinch on his naked ass, making him jerk. ::You certainly blew something,:: he said dryly. “Seriously, Erik, you aren’t watching it. It really works. It’s soaking up loads of stuff.”

“You have tons of towels already, Charles,” Erik replied. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person in our class who has an actually fully-stocked linen closet. In their single apartment.”

“That’s not true,” Charles said, feeling his cheeks heat.

He hated when Erik pointed out how much he had in comparison to others. Particularly when Erik would hardly let Charles share his wealth with him, his mind letting off the distinct sense of charity whenever Charles tried to pay for their dinners at the nice Italian place near campus or when he tried to buy Erik a new expensive watch for their six month anniversary. Now, after two days of staying at Erik’s mother’s house for winter break, he felt even worse for having grown up with money. The Lehnsherr household was infinitely warmer and more homey than the mansion in Westchester had ever been, but the appliances in the kitchen were almost as old as he was, Erik’s bed lumpier than anything Charles had ever slept on, the sheets scratchier, the furnace less toasty.

Not that Charles actually cared about any of these things of course, but the realization of just how well off he was never failed to settle an uncomfortable, guilty weight in his stomach. Still, visiting Erik’s family home wasn’t all bad – in fact, it was mostly wonderful. True, he hadn’t yet met Mrs. Lehnsherr, who was spending the few days of Erik and Charles’ break at her sister’s in a town three hours away and whom he had been looking forward to meeting for almost a whole year now. But she was set to return in two days, and they still had plenty of time ahead of them to get to know each other.

“It is true,” Erik said, but he softened the words with a kiss to the side of Charles’ jaw. ::Anyway, you can’t get the Shamwow because I’m not letting you off this couch for another hour at least.::

Charles practically purred, dipping his head to catch Erik’s lips in a proper kiss. ::A sacrifice I’ll have to make, I suppose,:: he replied.

He moved to tangle his hands through Erik’s hair, urging him closer and tilting his head to deepen the kiss. The corners of his mouth twitching, he ran his tongue gently along the seam of Erik’s lips, grin widening when Erik groaned and let Charles lick inside. One of Erik’s hands was already migrating down Charles’ torso, his nails raking over Charles’ nipples to elicit a gasp and a buck upwards. Erik smiled against Charles’ lips, and he ground himself down against the plane of Charles’ stomach, his hardening cock just managing to brush the tip of Charles’, drawing from him a breathless laugh.

“Something funny?” Erik asked, moving away from Charles’ mouth to kiss his way up his jawline toward his ear, nipping at the lobe gently.

Charles slid his hands to Erik’s ass, forcing his hips down just as Charles rolled his own up, their cocks aligning properly this time. A groan rumbled up from Erik’s chest and he released Charles’ earlobe, his hips stuttering, head falling down to the armrest next to Charles’.

“I don’t know,” Charles answered, nosing at Erik’s jawline. “You tell me.”

That got exactly the response Charles wanted. Erik made a noise half of amusement, half of frustration and rolled his hips again forcefully, one hand dropping down to grasp them both while his teeth found the edge of Charles’ jaw, nipping along it until he could capture Charles’ lips once more. Charles matched Erik’s rhythm, rocking up into the fist around them both with a contented sigh, his hand finding its way to Erik’s hair again, keeping him close. Their kisses turned sloppy as they breathed together, hearts racing frantically as pleasure coursed through them. Charles’ legs wrapped themselves around Erik’s waist, improving the position, making it easier for them both to thrust, but still somehow it didn’t feel enough.

“Your fingers,” Charles choked out at last, feeling half-drunk off Erik’s touch. He bussed a kiss to Erik’s cheek, urging him on. “Please, Erik, I want–”

And then a loud grinding noise right next to them rent the air. Charles yelped, jerking so abruptly Erik fell half off the couch, catching himself on one hand and one foot, his death grip on Charles’ waist nearly dragging him over as well.

“Shit!” Erik gasped, pulling himself back onto the couch only to stand a second later on wobbly legs.

“Was that the garage door?” Charles asked, gaping.

Erik nodded feverishly, then began looking frantically around on the floor, throwing himself over the back of the couch to look there as well. “Our clothes,” he hissed. “Where are our clothes?!”

“Is someone here?” Charles asked dumbly. He sat up, glancing wildly around, too. He saw Erik’s pants on the floor behind the arm rest and tossed them his way.

“Mom,” Erik answered, horror in his eyes as he caught the pants and leapt to his feet to tug them on. “That’s got to be mom, no one else knows the code.” He reached behind the sofa and lobbed a pair of jeans in Charles’ direction. “Come on! We’ve got to run! She’s going to be here any second!”

As if he needed the words driven home any more, the garage door began to close with another loud grinding of gears, a sound like a car door popping open audible just over it. Erik threw himself behind the couch, emerging with a shirt in each hand, nudging Charles with his knee before bolting towards the stairs that led out of the basement den and up to the kitchen.

Charles suppressed another yelp of terror and threw himself off the couch toward the stairs, trying to run and put on the pants at the same time, only the arch of his foot caught in the waistband of the jeans just as he was taking his first step, and before he knew it, the ground had disappeared beneath him only to rush up to greet his face. He let out a pained garble, as his head connected with the carpet, but there was no time to dwell on any injury. Erik hissed an unsympathetic “hurry!” from the stairs, and Charles stumbled to his feet, jeans in hand, just as another car door opened and shut.

He bolted up the stairs, reaching the top just as he heard keys in the lock of the downstairs door and nearly crashing into Erik, who was standing just around the corner, making sure he made it. Wordlessly, Erik shoved Charles’ shirt into his hand and led the race down the corridor to his bedroom, tugging his own t-shirt over his head and nearly running into the bedroom doorframe as they skidded their way inside. Footsteps echoed up from the basement, each one like a death knell, and at last Charles managed to tug on his jeans zipping them up carefully – although his erection was long gone by now – and sliding on his sweater.

“Erik?” A voice called from the kitchen. “I’m home!”

Erik let out a breath, turning to Charles and stepping forward to run a hand through his hair, brushing it back out of his face and cradling his cheek softly. “Are you okay?” he whispered, giving him a once-over as if checking for injuries.

Charles nodded. “Nothing hurt but my pride,” he replied a little breathlessly.

“Good,” Erik said. He leaned down, pressing their lips together in a swift, soft kiss before straightening up, grabbing Charles’ hand and dragging him towards the door. “Mom!” he called, throwing a grin over his shoulder at Charles, who felt his eyes going wide again. “I thought you were going to be home on Sunday.”

“I was,” Mrs. Lehnsherr replied. Charles’ heart, so lately recovered, began to beat faster again as they walked down the hallway towards the voice. “But I couldn’t stay away knowing you were home.”

They stepped into the kitchen, hand in hand, to see a short, thin woman with greying hair that once was most likely the same color as Erik’s standing just inside. She was beaming at them, suitcase at her side, but as soon as she saw Erik, she stepped forward and threw her arms open wide. Erik dropped Charles’ hand and immediately bent down, wrapping her up in a bone crunching hug that nearly lifted her off the floor with its force.

“Oh honey, I missed you,” she said, the words muffled by Erik’s shoulder. When they drew back, she reached up, ruffling his hair affectionately. “You’ve let your hair grow out.”

Then she tilted her head and looked around behind Erik, her gaze locking with Charles’. Charles’ heart was still thudding away in his chest, but he smiled as naturally as he felt he could, shifting slightly on his feet.

“And this must be Charles,” she said.

Charles nodded, shooting Erik a questioning look which was met with a nod and a grin, before stepping forward, hand outstretched. “Yes,” he said. “It’s very nice to meet you at last, Mrs. Lehnsherr.”

“Call me Edie,” Mrs Lehnsherr answered, smiling back. She looked at his hand and the smile widened. She moved around Erik and held her arms out to Charles as well, raising an eyebrow. “And there’s no need to stand on formality in our family. Unless you’re not a hugger?”

“Oh,” Charles said, caught off guard, but not unpleasantly so. “Uh. No. That is. Uh.” Feeling his cheeks heat again, he decided maybe words weren’t necessary here anyway, and instead stepped forward, practically throwing himself into Edie’s arms.

Edie laughed, hugging him back, her hand rubbing a slight circle on his back the way Erik had a habit of doing. “Glad to hear it,” she said. When they pulled away, her smile was just as warm as it had been when she’d first seen them. “Now,” she went on. “It’s almost suppertime. I’ve got to put my bag away, but then is someone going to help me cook?”

“Yes, of course,” Charles said, his cheeks beginning to hurt now, but not in a bad way.

Not in a bad way at all. He looked up at Erik, and his stomach gave a little flip when he saw the happiness sparkling there in Erik’s eyes, loud as any laughter. Mortifying as the last few minutes had been, Charles couldn’t help but be happy too. He had a feeling things were only going to go up from here.