Title: O you entirely posses me
Rating: NC-17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Erik/Charles
Summary: Only Erik would think to combine chess and sex. Charles just lets himself get blown away.
Warnings/kinks: explicit sex, oral sex, rimming, dirty talk, gratuitous German, lousy chess moves
Disclaimer: X-Men First Class and all associated characters do not belong to me. Title and lj-cut quote from Walt Whitman's From Pent-up Aching Rivers.

~italics~ = telephatic communication

He's pretty sure he can take that bishop with his rook. Pretty sure. Very, very sure, but maybe not quite, because Erik will definitely have some other piece lurking elsewhere to capture his rook andoh oh oh-

Erik, who is lying between Charles' legs on the bed, grins, and the sight of all those teeth framing his erection sends whole body shudder through Charles, trembling the chess pieces on their precarious position on the board. The board which lists slightly on the smooth plane of Charles stomach until he rights it, and pokes the pieces back to the center of their squares.

So… the rook, that's it he was going to move his rook… where? Erik chooses that moment to run his tongue over the thick vein on the underside of Charles painfully hard erection and all thoughts of chess fly from his head once again. His head lolls back, the strain of lifting it to see the board too much to handle right now. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the small part of his consciousness that isn't melting with pleasure wants to know exactly how long he's been contemplating this supposedly simple move.

Then Erik's mouth slides of his cock with a loud slurp and that part of Charles mind joins the rest to beg for that mouth to return to his erection. "Please, Erik, please, you cruel bastard-"

Erik chuckles, his voice low and deep and slightly hoarse from having had Charles cock down his throat and, "Please, Erik."

"You have yet to make your move," Erik says smugly, calmly, like he hasn't got an erection to rival Charles'.

"Damn you," Charles snaps, and he elbows up to peer at the board once again, trying desperately to ignore the way Erik is licking up the precum that beads at the head of his cock like it's a goddamn popsicle. He wants Erik to fuck him, wants him so bad, but he knows that Erik isn't going to do anything until he's made his move.

Damn it. He picks up the rook and manages to resist the desire to throw the captured bishop at Erik, tossing it over the edge of the bed. "Rook takes bishop," he gasps. "Your move."

Erik lets out a deep breath that gusts hot against Charles's sensitive cock.

Charles whimpers. "Erik-"

"Finally," Erik hisses, and Charles feels the board lifted off him, sweat making it cling slightly to his skin, and he can see, at the edges of his vision, as Erik sets it carefully aside, making sure not to disturb the position of any of the remaining pieces. Then Charles can feel hands tugging his arms, pulling, pushing, manhandling his body into position onto his stomach and for a moment he thinks "At last!" until he feels the smooth wood of the chess board settle on his back.

He only has enough breath to gasp, "Wuh-what?" and finds himself silenced by Erik's sharp, "Shhh! My turn."

Charles squirms, trying achieve some friction on his cock, which is trapped between his stomach and the bed. He really, really wants Erik to stop toying with him and get on with the real program of fucking his brains out, but he also wants to see how this foreplay will go. Erik can get highly creative when it comes to teasing Charles until he's begging, and Charles would still like a repeat of what Erik had done with that wrought iron bedframe last week.

So he lies there, as quietly as he can, anticipating the cool touch of metal, while Erik, well, while Erik does something devious to tease him further. Or contemplates the chess board; Charles isn't even sure if they're playing anymore.

The nip to arse cheek is a complete surprise that sends him arching off the bed, a move that earns him a sharp stinging smack on the other cheek and an admonishing "Charles!", as well as few more seconds of torture as Erik puts the pieces back in place (how can he remember which one goes where?) while the sharp ache on Charles buttock throbs heat to his poor neglected cock.

He's a bit more prepared when Erik lowers his head for another nip, but he still has to bite down on his fist to keep from crying out (because Lord knows Raven has been having too much fun mimicking his voice in the heat of passion at the most inopportune moments).

And Erik's hands are there, large and burning hot, kneading the flesh of his arse, grabbing and stretching until he's pulled apart, exposed and Charles can feel cool air and hot breath mingle over the sensitive skin of-

Erik's tongue is there ("Oh God!") licking a hot stripe over his pucker ("Erik!"), circling the rim of flesh ("Please!"), until it darts in ("Ungh") to swirl around his sensitive insides.

Charles realizes he's not bothering to stop his cries anymore, and he doesn't have it in himself to think of the children; if they have a problem with the noise, they can go bugger off; the grounds are huge enough for them to go wherever the hell they want. All he wants now is Erik, Erik who is projecting every filthy thing he is going to do to him ~make you wet, feel you stretch around my tongue and then my fingers, going to make you scream~ and Charles can now feel a finger, one of Erik's long and clever fingers slide in next to his tongue, curling, searching until he finds that gland, and Charles spasms, keening in pleasure, and chess pieces fly everywhere, the board slipping off his back to fall down to the floor onto the thick carpet with a heavy thunk .

~Tight around my finger, you'll be so tight around my cock, Charles.~

~Erik, fuck, stop thinking and do it!~

The tongue vanishes and is replaced by two more fingers, slicked and careful, stretching him and filling him until he can't take it anymore. "Erik! For God's sake just-"

And then Erik's finally there, sliding into him like he may break, filling him in a way his hands, tongue or even his metal creation cannot.

~You are beautiful like this~ Erik thinks, even as he mouths silent endearments into the curve of Charles' back, "Schatz", "mein Freund", (and maybe even an "ich liebe dich", Charles can't tell, maybe he's imagining it, because at that very moment, Erik, the sneaky bastard, does that twist with his hips) words that drift in the undercurrent of ~under me, so beautiful, will make you feel good, you feel so good, oh, Charles~.

They move together, slow s l o w, not matter how much Charles wants it fast, they rock, and each slide of their bodies on the silk sheets of the bed slides Erik deeper into Charles, slides Charles through the tight fist of Erik's long fingers under his body. His fingers and toes are curled tight in the sheets. Erik's breath is hot at the back of his neck, and his free hand is running through Charles hair, tangling in it enough to pull his head back, bare his neck so he can suck hickeys onto it that no shirt collar will hide the next day. ~Mine, mine. Charles~

~Yours.~

And when Erik finally hooks his arm under Charles and pulls him to his knees, then up further so that Charles' legs fall open to straddle Erik's thighs, it doesn't take long to push him to the edge. Erik pounds up into him while he grinds down to meet every upward thrust that brushes Erik's stiff nipples against the skin of his back while he twines his arm around Erik's neck to card through his hair and just hang on ~oh God, Erik~ when he comes with a shout in hot, sticky ropes of white striping his stomach and the sheets and just holds on for all that is worth. Soon, Erik thrusts up into him one final time, stifling his own cry ("~Charles!~") in Charles shoulder.

Later when they've kicked the soiled sheets aside and pulled the blankets over themselves (and after Charles has made sure the children have come back, all of them trooping sullenly back into the manor), Charles pulls out the thing that has been poking him in the back throughout his post coital snuggling. It's a white queen, and Erik plucks it from his hand with a playful "Mine."

Then he carefully balances it on Charles' chest, on the skin, muscle and bone over his heart and murmurs, "Checkmate."

fin

Just in case translation is needed:
Schatz=dear/darling
mein Freund=my friend
ich liebe dich=I love you