Disclaimer: I don't own X-men First Class or its characters.

Charles Xavier is bored.

He isn't quite sure of the reason why he is bored. But he has been staring into thin air for the past few minutes, thinking of what he should do. Of course, there is still his thesis to write, but he has spent the last few days doing research, and has written quite a fair bit. He doubts it would take much time to complete the rest.

Charles sighs. He wonders why he feels so bored. Writing his thesis could not be the main reason; Raven often reprimanded him for burning midnight oil jotting down various theories about genetic mutations, in what she claims, an avid manner.

Perhaps it is a phase then – a phase of boredom. He remembers hearing Raven complain that she has nothing to do, that he shouldn't spend so much time on his thesis and more time with her.

"Charles?"

Charles resists the urge to sigh. He turns around, giving Raven a smile. "Yes, Raven?"

She is eying him skeptically, with a hint of disbelief in her eyes. "Why are you staring into thin air?"

"I'm just thinking, Raven," he says, lips quirking. "I was contemplating on this really interesting new theory of genetic mutations." He lies smoothly. "Would you like me to elaborate?"

Raven grimaces. "No." She says quickly. She sighs, brushing away a stray lock of blond hair. "I can't believe I thought you were slacking- I mean, taking a break. Which you totally should, you know."

A break – maybe that was what he needed to overcome this phase of boredom. Charles admits to himself he has been concentrating too much on both his thesis and his studies.

"That's a good idea, Raven." Charles gives his sister an appreciate smile. He rises from the chair. "I think I shall take a leisurely walk."

Raven blinks. "To where, Charles?"

"Why, to the library of course, I do require some research material."

He smiles in amusement as there is a pause, before Raven says in exasperation, "Can't you stop working for once?"

"Not if I want to become a professor in genetic mutations." Charles replies leisurely.

He hears Raven sigh. "Fine. At least you aren't going to the bar this time, to pick up some pretty woman." She says dryly.

Charles blinks, then smiles secretively. He turns, regarding the blonde with amusement in his blue eyes. "Ah yes, that was my favorite pastime." He says. "Those women had groovy mutations."

Charles advances forward, past Raven, who shakes her head.

"I'll see you later, Raven."

It is evening, the sky is painted in soft colors of orange and yellow with a dash of light pink. There is still the refreshing blueness in the sky as the sun sets, only the cool color has faded away to darker shades, the contrast with the prevailing warm colors in the sky giving way an elegant picture of calm and beauty which Charles finds himself smiling mildly at.

He is walking along the pathway, on the way to the place Raven had been relieved that he was not going to. Charles feels slightly guilty for lying to his sister, but had he told her his true intentions, she would have insisted on tagging along, which would have been a complication in his plans.

Of course, Raven knew about his activities with women. But it had been quite a while since he had flirted or picked up a woman at the bar, and time had gradually lessened her suspicion of him.

Charles looks up at the sky, wondering what he should do when he entered the bar. He was sure he had not forgotten his tactics but the sense of inexplicable boredom was settling over him again, even at the prospect of bringing a woman home to have sex with.

Charles frowns, shaking his head. He ponders reluctantly on the possibility of getting bored of having sex with women – though he had not gotten as much opportunity to do so as he would have liked, mostly because of Raven's presence.

But could it be that he was bored of having sex with women, of sex? Charles had never imagined he would get bored of sex. It was a highly pleasurable act which more often than not left him feeling satisfied. If not of sex, what else would be exciting in his life?

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. Perhaps it was because he always knew how to pleasure those women, for they had been broadcasting thoughts of lust and pleasure, where they wanted him to touch them, when they wanted him to take them, thoughts so loud he couldn't block them out even if he had wanted to.

His telepathy was the problem, but not the sole problem, Charles thinks analytically. Another reason was probably because of women in general – they had highly attuned and sensitive senses and couldn't help reacting more physically and mentally to the pleasure he bestowed upon them, if their thoughts were any indication.

Women who had slept with him had wanted pleasure. Of course, he was quite sure they came home with him due to his charisma, but in the end, sex was all both parties had wanted from the start. They both knew that.

Sex as a man was of course, pleasurable, Charles had experienced firsthand a number of times. He remembers the expressions of pure pleasure on the faces of those pretty women as he had taken them on the bed, and wonders what sex feels like for a woman.

Charles blinks. His eyebrows furrow as he enters the bar, berating himself mentally. "Don't even go there, Xavier."

Yet, to his annoyance, the idea has taken a place in his mind. Charles looks around at all the pretty women; a woman with wavy brown hair, another with curly blonde hair; he looks at them busy flirting with men who are eying them with desire as they bat their eyelashes prettily.

Charles remembers a time when he had been younger, when he had been unable to control his telepathy. He recalls hearing thoughts, thoughts about mundane life, troubles and problems, love and sex. When he had grown a little older, he had even been able to feel the pleasure of both the man and woman during sex, more the latter than the former, wishing he could block everything out so he could concentrate on his work without his pants feeling so uncomfortably tight.

Charles remembers those years, those torturously pleasurable years which had invoked in him a desire to engage in sex when he was older. He remembers Raven not knowing a thing about the ordeal he had been going through. He had had to protect his little sister's purity.

Charles looks at the blonde woman again. For once, he looks at a woman in an analytical manner, observing her as she is now kissing the man, who has his arm wrapped around her waist as he practically devours her mouth. She is situated a few feet away from him, and Charles can feel the pleasure she is unknowingly projecting.

Charles bites his lip. He takes a deep breath, then turns in the direction of the restrooms, using his telepathy to perceive himself as invisible as he enters.

Charles looks in the mirror. He fluffs out his brown locks of hair, staring at the smooth features of his face, his own blue eyes which some women had called pretty.

Charles was no narcissist, but he knows he is not bad looking. Women had called him handsome after all, handsome and charming, though they had associated the word 'pretty' with him, attributing it to mostly his blue eyes.

Charles inhales. How was he to turn himself, a man whom women had called handsome, to a pretty girl?

Charles stares at his reflection, raising a hand to touch his cheek. It is smooth. He removes his hand, placing two fingers on his palm, sliding them down. The skin is almost as smooth as that of his cheek.

So, he had the smooth skin down; it was only expected with him cooping himself up in his study for long periods of time. He had only gone to work out when Raven had asked him to, not wanting his little sister to go alone even if she could defend herself against any possible aggressors.

Charles rolls back his sleeve, looking at his arm. He flexes his arm, noticing he does have muscles despite being an introvert, but they are a far go from what he has seen on other men. Despite that, his body can be considered as muscular – slender, but muscular all the same.

"Must have been all those workouts with Raven." Charles thinks. He rolls back his pant sleeve, running a hand along the exposed smooth skin.

His legs are quite strong – jogging is a hobby of his after all. Charles makes a thoughtful noise, before straightening and looking back into the mirror. It would be helpful if he had a dressing mirror, but this would have to do.

When he is ready, he closes his eyes. Taking in a deep breath, Charles projects an image of himself in his mind. He leaves his blue eyes, but remembers the woman's eyelashes and decides to lengthen his own. He imagines a wig of brown, slightly wavy hair replacing his own brown curls, adding a luscious shine to his new hairstyle. He decides to not change the appearance of his limbs, remembering how strong Raven was despite her pretty blonde girl look, but modifies his lips to look more feminine.

When Charles opens his eyes, he sees a brown haired woman staring back at him. He sees his own blue eyes, made prettier and wider by longer eyelashes, sees his brown curls replaced by long, curling locks of the same shade of brown. He smiles, and the girl in the mirror smiles back at him, her cherry red lips curling in bemusement.

But the girl he has deemed pretty enough to be able to gain a man's attention is flat-chested. Charles sighs, feeling warmth on his cheeks as he realizes what he has to do next.

The telepath sends a quick prayer before he begins to strip, flushing at the notion of what he was going to do.

He was sure Raven would hit him and call him worse than a pervert if she ever found out.

Charles's face is still red as he exits the bathroom, in the physical appearance of a brown haired woman. He is wearing- or rather, has projected himself to be seen to be wearing a tight-fitting black blouse with a silver lining and has shortened the length of his long pants, giving them a more feminine design. He had even given his ears two simple but shining silver hoops.

"I could be a fashion designer," Charles thinks dryly to himself as he touches a finger inconspicuously to the newly formed projection on his chest. "I already feel strange, and I'm not even wearing a skirt."

"Well, too late to back out." Charles strides forward, before slowing his pace as he remembers his current appearance. He roams his gaze around the bar, trying to walk the way he had seen Raven and other women do. "I hope this works."

It feels strange to be looking at other men instead of women, but it surprisingly isn't long before one who is alone catches his attention. The man is blond, with his back turned to him, and Charles finds himself start to walk to the counter, but stops in his tracks when he sees a black haired woman approach the man.

He sees the woman bending her body to lean close towards the blond man, sees the seductive smile on her pretty face, her lips red with lipstick as they move sinuously. He cannot hear what she is saying, and is tempted to move closer but did not want to seen to be eavesdropping.

Charles sees the man turn his head. He stands and looks as the man replies the black haired woman, his fingers curled around a glass. His lips are curved in an amused smile, but in this angle Charles can see the man's eyes and they look bored, as if he was entirely uninterested in the woman.

The woman now has an offended expression on her face, but the man doesn't seem to care. He takes a sip from the glass in his hand, raising an eyebrow at her. Charles sees the man turn his gaze back to the front as the dark haired woman brings her body scantily clad body closer towards him.

And then the man turns his head back so fast it is as if it had never left that position. With the glass still in his hands, he smiles at the woman, but it is a cold smile. Charles does not hear the words he speaks, but he gets the gist of the conversation as the man raises his free hand in an offhand gesture towards the woman, lips curling at their edges.

The woman narrows her eyes, glares at the man then saunters haughtily away. The blond man smiles in satisfaction and turns his attention back to the glass in his hand.

That is when Charles decides to make his move. He walks to the counter, seating himself beside the man. If he was to do this he might as well flirt with someone intriguing, someone whom seemed to be a challenge.

"Hey there." He begins in a soft, female voice.

The man who had rejected the woman from before is drinking. Charles waits patiently for him to finish his drink, before he turns to him with a raised eyebrow. "Who are you?"

"Well, I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours." Charles says with a smile.

The man looks interested now, interested enough to put his glass down. "Shouldn't it be ladies first?" He asks in bemusement.

Charles's smile turns sly. He does not try to read the man's mind – he has decided to forbid the use of his telepathy on this experiment, for the sake of an exciting challenge. "From that little fiasco earlier, I doubt you're a gentleman."

The man merely smiles, his blue eyes glimmering with amusement. "Interesting." He says, and his eyes look like they're staring right into Charles's soul.

"I find you intriguing as well," Charles says without thinking. But the man does not show any reaction, and he finds himself placing his hand on the man's shoulder, leaning closer to him, his feminine voice husky. "Intriguing enough to want you to leave with me."

The man smiles. He raises his fingers to Charles's cheek, brushing them against the smooth skin. His blue eyes are less cold as he speaks, "And what makes you think I would be interested enough to leave with you?"

A proud one, Charles thinks about the way the stranger has phrased his words. Normally, the man would be the one advancing verbally, but he finds he doesn't mind – he is more suited to the role anyway; and it only makes the challenge more exciting.

Charles smiles. "Because you find me pretty." He says in a matter of fact tone. He slips his slender body forward, looping an arm around the man's neck and murmuring as he meets those blue eyes with his own. "Because you called me interesting, because we both want sex."

A flash of surprise crosses the man's expression, and Charles lets a hint of smugness slip into his smile. But the man recovers quickly, and he gives Charles a bemused smile.

"Sex, huh? You're interested in that?"

Charles blinks. "I wouldn't be talking to you if I wasn't, would I?"

The man's smile seems to widen at his comment. He reaches his hands forward, placing them on the upper part of Charles's chest. "My place or yours?"

"Neither," Charles smiles back. He places his free hand on the man's right wrist.

"I'm sure we would both prefer a hotel."