Summary: Erik Lehnsherr x fe!Reader -> Erik walked out of your life once, and he doesn't want to repeat the same mistake twice.
Disclaimer: exes-to-lovers, dislike/enemies to lovers, spoilers for first class, mutant!reader, Erik protects reader, existing feelings, love confessions, reader gets hurt, hurt/comfort, teacher!reader.
Xavier was at his wits end.
Years of education, countless thesis defences, an ignorant mother, a world that thought him a ‘freak’ for being able to communicate with his mind, a government who could change their opinion and choices any second, an impending third world war…
And yet you and Erik were going to be the thing to kill him. He was pretty sure of that.
“You just shot at me!”
You shrugged, standing with the gun hanging beside your thigh. “You asked.”
“Him!” Erik pointed at Charles. “Not. You.”
You practically glared at Erik. “You thought he would willingly shoot at you? Jesus.”
Erik heard your scoff. “What?”
You shook your head, holding back a laugh. “Nothing. Just…even I thought you were more intelligent than that, Erik.”
Erik grumbled, ready to charge at you. Holding out his hand to stop his friend, Xavier shouted out.
“Maybe it’s best if you go inside, Y/n. Erik? Erik!”
Finally he got his friend to turn away and for you to go inside.
“Sorry, Charles. She just-”
“I know. I know. But you can’t let your emotions get the better of you.”
“I can’t believe she’s even allowed to own a gun.”
Xavier shrugged. “I don’t know if she does. But who’s gonna argue with her? Other than you, clearly.”
It had been the same for months. Even from the moment they had both found you whilst on the search for more mutants who might want to join the group. The same group the others had affectionately called: The X-Men.
You had been working at the New York Museum of Natural History. Apparently, two researchers wanted to talk to you about some of the new artifacts. It was rare, but not unknown for academic researchers to want to talk to you so you had agreed.
But the second one unknown face, and one slightly familiar face, walked through the door, you’d regretted agreeing.
“Hello,” Erik had smiled, his hands in his pockets, as if you were friends.
“What the hell are you after?”
“Uh, please excuse my friend. I’m Charles Xavier and this…this is Erik-”
“I know who he is.”
“Alright then.” Charles rocked on his feet. “Well, we were hoping to talk to you.”
Looking between Charles and Erik, you waited for a few minutes, trying to make up your mind.
“I’ll talk to you,” you said, looking at Charles. “I’m not talking to him.”
“Told you she wouldn’t want me here, Charles.”
“Yes, Erik, I gathered that.”
“You should have trusted me.”
You raised your brows. “Trust? You wanna talk about trust, now?”
Charles quickly cleared his throat. “Maybe-maybe it's best we talk in private. In your office, perhaps?”
It had taken you three days to decide whether or not you wanted to help. Charles Xavier had made a rather convincing argument, but the fact he was working with Erik was unsettling.
But, once you had made a decision, you tracked them down. It had made for a nice surprise visit for Charles when he found an unknown duffle bag in the hallway of his home.
He had welcomed you with open arms, finding it fantastic that you had agreed to join. But Erik wasn’t of the same mind. After that, everything became a fight.
The fact that you had decided to join, the fact that it was Shaw he was looking for, the conversation about your change of style since he last saw you, your not-so-subtle statement that you’ve changed since he was last in your life.
The way you sided with Charles, the way you didn’t side with either of them, his approach to push Cassidy off the top of the satellite dish, the way you used your powers and abilities around the grounds.
Who made dinner, and how. Who the singer of the record was, which record was better, how far was too far to push training abilities.
“He deserved it.”
“But did you really have to shoot him?” Charles asked you, hours later as you stood in the kitchen, seasoning Hank’s food before he knew.
“He can deflect them. He’s fine.”
Charles watched you with a perplexed look. “What happened between you two?”
“I thought you could read minds.”
“Not my friends. Not unless it’s needed.”
You still didn’t turn to look at him. “Thought Erik might have told you?”
He shook his head. “No. Well, not exactly.”
“I thought you didn’t read your friends' minds.”
Xavier sighed. “Earlier…Erik allowed me to enter into the brightest corner of his mind. It was a memory of his mother, from when he was younger. But before that…he still has memories of you. Happy ones.”
For a moment, you stopped what you were doing. Charles watched as the information washed over you in waves, but you simply pushed the waves back.
“Yeah, well…” You cleared your throat, avoided his eye contact, and dried your hands on a dishtowel. “That’s in the past.”
“Not necessarily.” Charles caught your arm, gently, as you passed him. “What happened, Y/n?”
You sighed and he saw the pain in your eyes. “Why don’t you ask him? He probably knows more than I do.”
On your way out of the kitchen, you nearly ran into someone but moved out of the way just in time.
“What are you-”
“Out of my way.”
Pushing past Erik, you hurried down the hall and towards the main staircase. Meanwhile, Erik turned into the kitchen and looked at Charles.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing,” Charles said, avoiding the bubbling rage inside of Erik. “What did you do?”
“Excuse me.”
“I asked her what happened between you two, and she said to ask you. I know you still hold fond memories of her.” Charles’ eyes scanned Erik’s as he watched the past and pain wash over his friend. “What happened?”
Erik’s shoulders dropped after a few moments. “I left. That’s what happened. I promised her a goodbye and…never did.”
As Erik grabbed himself a drink, Charles took a seat and waited for Erik.
“It was five years ago,” Erik began. “I was returning to Europe to hunt the rest of the soldiers that complied with my torture. But, for a brief time…I stopped.”
“Because you met Y/n?”
Erik nodded, taking a hard swallow of his drink. “We met outside of her university. She was, uh, she was studying for her masters.”
Charles watched as a proud and nostalgic smile came onto Erik’s face. He didn’t mean to, but he saw Erik’s mind and his memories – not that Erik noticed.
“I was doing some research to try and find some old files. It was a pure accident I’d run into her. Knocked her books to the ground…pretty sure she cussed me out.” Erik laughed. “I’d never been cussed out in an accident before. When I saw what she was studying, I asked for her help. She said ‘no’, obviously. Until she found me lost in the library a few hours later.”
“Did she know you were a mutant?”
Erik shook his head. “Not at first. She knew I was different, though.”
“And you? Did you know about her?”
Erik shook his head, again. “Not until she told me.”
The moment when you had told him about your abilities had been one filled with vulnerability. Something that, at the time, he didn’t break. Equally, he shared his own ability with you, which turned into a conversation about how he had discovered his powers, who else had done the same, and why he was meant to be heading further into Europe.
“So, what happened?”
“We fell in love,” Erik said, simply. “She made me promise to stop hunting. To stop looking for vengeance and to try and find happiness where I was. Some days I wish I’d never broken that promise.”
Charles stayed quiet, waiting for Erik to finish.
“But, ultimately, I did. And…she knew. I guess she could feel me slipping away and…about a month before I left, she’d asked me to promise to say goodbye. That if I was going to leave, that it would be finished. That she wouldn’t be left hanging on to hope.”
Charles felt his heart break for you. And for Erik. “But you didn’t say goodbye?”
Erik shook his head. “No. I thought about leaving a note but I could never bring myself to write one. In the end, I just left.”
Charles let out a long breath and took a sip of his own drink. “I don’t blame her for being so angry.”
Erik nodded, taking another drink of his own. “Neither do I.”
“But why fight with her? Why keep fighting with her, when you know you were an asshole?”
“Ouch.”
“Erik. We both know it’s true.”
“Yeah, okay. I guess-”
Charles closed his eyes. “Please don’t say it’s because you miss her. Even I know that’s an asshole move.”
Erik chuckled, just a little. “I’d rather have her fight me than ignore me.”
“Like you did with her?” Charles asked. “Did you ever look for her?”
“Not that she knows about.”
Charles was shocked. “But you did?”
“Before I tracked Shaw to the US, I looked for her…”
Charles nodded, “The museum…you already knew she was there.”
“Her master’s came in handy, and she found a great opportunity. She seemed happy. Until I showed up.”
Charles scoffed a little, in sarcastic judgement. “Who can blame her? Look, Erik, in all seriousness, I think you both need to talk. Seriously talk. You can’t fight forever. Seek her forgiveness-”
“I don’t want her forgiveness. Charles, I broke my promise to her, twice.”
“People make mistakes, Erik. You can’t let your past define you, or Y/n. There’s still good inside of you, and, once you accept that, maybe she might start seeing it, again, too.”
Erik raised a brow. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
Charles had an odd but hopeful look in his eyes as Erik looked at him. Clearly, he knew because of more than just intuition.
And, to his credit, Erik tried. Really, really tried.
But…you had changed. You were still you, just…harder. Tougher in every sense of the word. Others saw your kindness, and your compassion. But not Erik.
Not that he could really blame you. He was angry. Annoyed, sure. But, even then, he knew he was angry and annoyed at himself because, deep down, he was the reason you were mad at him. He was the reason he couldn’t get you to lower the barricades he’d made you build as a consequence for breaking his promises to you.
Finally, one day, it hit him.
“I’m sorry.”
You’d been training most of the day and had barely had a moment's peace to yourself. You were ready to tell whoever had walked in to give you five minutes, until you heard Erik’s voice.
Rolling your eyes, you sighed and started heading for the door of the library. “Goodbye, Erik.”
“Wait, Y/n! Wait, please- please just– just wait? Please?”
Erik blocked your exit. Not by closing the door with his abilities, but by literally running in front of you.
“What?”
Despite the memories that flashed across your face as you remembered the last time you’d seen Erik run to stop you from leaving, you couldn’t forget why you hadn’t experienced more of those moments over the last five years.
Back then, you had been younger and in love. It had been in an act of pleading to try and get you to come back to bed and to skip the boring lecture meeting.
Now, it was…well, you didn’t know.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? Did you push Cassidy off the roof?”
“No,” Erik shook his head. “Not this time. I’m…I’m sorry for leaving five years ago.”
You hadn’t been expecting an apology. Although, you’d never really been expecting to see Erik again after he left.
“You asked me to stop hunting, and I broke my promise. You asked me to say goodbye and I broke that promise, too. I-I’m not looking for your forgiveness. I don’t want it.”
“Wow.”
“But I do want you to know that I’m sorry.” Erik let out a breath.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Why-”
You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why didn’t you say goodbye? Why did you just leave in the middle of the night like some random hook-up? We’d been together for months, Erik. Granted, that’s not a long time in the grand scheme of things, but we were in love! And you just left. Just like that. Like it didn’t even cost you a second thought!”
Erik swallowed, finally seeing some of the pain behind your eyes. No longer just disdain, but anger, sadness, and hurt.
“I couldn’t say goodbye,” Erik said. “I-I didn’t want to.”
“But you still wanted to leave? So, what? Go and hunt Nazi’s and then come home like nothing happened?”
“No, no! That’s not what-”
“What the hell was I to you, Erik? What? Just a warm bed?”
“What?! No! No-”
“Someone to distract you whilst you completed your research? What?! What was I, Erik?”
Each accusation was like a dagger to his heart. He knew he had been an idiot to walk away from you, no matter the manner in which he did it. But he had really fucked things up.
Turning away from him, you walked further inside the library.
“You were my partner! You were my love! My life!”
With tears in your eyes, you turned back to him. “If I were your life, Erik…then why did you leave?”
“Because I had to. I had to.” Erik started to cry, now. Watching you in pain – pain he had caused – was crushing him from the inside. “Everything that happened– everything they did to me, to my family! I couldn’t just let them get away with that. Believe me, I wish I could change the story. I wish I hadn’t left you. I wish I had come back to find you sooner. I wish I had said goodbye, but I was never going to bring myself to do it. I loved you, Y/n. I still do. Saying…saying goodbye to you would have meant we were permanently in the past.”
Taking a few breaths as you looked at him, you wondered why you had ever agreed to join his team.
“I asked you…” You wiped the tears away. “I asked you, Erik, that if you were going to leave then you wouldn’t leave me hanging on to the hope that you might come back. You hurt me, Erik. You really hurt me.”
“I know.” Erik’s voice was as soft as your own as he slowly approached you. “I know. And I should have done that. I should have given you peace.”
“I waited for you.”
Erik stopped in his tracks.
“For four years,” you told him. “I waited for you. Didn’t…date anyone else, didn’t leave my routine other than to go to the library more often, even after I graduated, just in case you were there, waiting for me. My entire life was put on hold, waiting for you. I know-” You took a breath. “You never asked me to do that, but…you never said goodbye. I asked you not to make me hope, and…you did.”
“What…what made you…”
“The museum was sending a shipment of artifacts to New York. They asked if I would go, and that there was a permanent position for me there if I wanted it. There was no sign of you anywhere and life was moving on. I figured I better start moving with it before I lose myself to the memory of you completely.”
Biting your lip, nervously, you looked at him. You were both a few years older now, but you could still see the Erik you knew. He was right there, staring back at you.
“I really did love you, Erik. I think part of me always will. But, I already lost you because of Shaw. I won’t stand here and wait to watch you walk away again, because of him.”
“You won’t. I’m not-”
“I’m here because I won’t stand by and watch as innocent people get caught in the crossfire of another world war.” You spoke, plainly. “Why are you here, Erik? For the same reason, or because you want to kill Shaw?”
“He took away my family.”
You nodded, saddened by his pain. “I know he did. But don’t let him take you, too.”
Wiping your eyes, quickly, you excused yourself and Erik watched you go.
He couldn’t turn his back on what Shaw did to him, but he also couldn’t lose you, again. He didn’t want to hurt you, again, either.
But that, sadly, seemed inevitable.
The next day, everything seemed to evolve into an extreme. Russians vs Americans, an impending war, Shaw, Hank (now Beast), a submarine and a water tornado.
“Erik!”
Unbuckling yourself from your seat, you hurried over to Charles and Erik by the dropped wheels.
“I don’t think I can hold it much longer!”
“Can you help him?” Charles shouted to you over the sound of the engines.
Furrowing your brows, you looked back to Erik who was starting to struggle.
“You should get back to your seat!”
Charles followed your request and buckled himself inside, meanwhile you reached your hands out, and the wind started to pick up.
The smell of sea-salt filled the air almost to the point of nausea. Erik’s hair was growing damp from where it was hitting him, although not at the same force at the back end of the submarine which was starting to lift.
Somewhere on the submarine, a hatch opened. And what followed was enough resistant power to send the submarine flying towards the beach, and to give the jet’s landing a bumpy ride.
Reaching for Erik’s hand, you managed to catch him just in time before he fell. In return, as you both tried to make it to your seats for some kind of safety measure, you were both sent flying.
Until Erik covered your body with his own, anchoring you to the mental panel.
Everyone was screaming in fear, in sickness and in pain. And, when it finally stopped, the entire crew fell silent.
Slowly, Erik lowered you both to the roof of the jet that now lay on the floor.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
You shook your head, quickly. “No, no. I’m okay. What about you?”
“I’m okay.”
Carefully, you stood up before helping Erik. Meanwhile, Charles called out for Moira and helped Raven out of her seat.
However, by the time Erik was running inside the submarine, Charles called out to you.
“Help him. Make sure he doesn’t lose himself.”
For a split second, you hesitated.
“There is still good inside of him, Y/n. You and I both know that.”
Taking a breath, you nodded and ran outside. Alex gave you a clear path to get inside, and you made a break for it. It took you a few attempts, but slightly bruised and sand covered, you made it in.
“I’ve lost him!” Charles shouted inside your head.
“What do you mean you’ve lost him?!”
“He’s gone into the void. I can’t communicate with him there!”
You grumbled, “Goddamn it. Erik! Erik!”
Running throughout the submarine, you found no-one. Until you heard a distant crash and Charles’ voice inside your head again.
Behind you, the wall slid open into two and you saw what Erik had done. Rather, what had been done to him.
A mirrored room, Erik on the ground, and Shaw standing in the middle, a helmet on his head.
“Erik!”
“No, Y/n, don’t!”
Shaw seemed to smile. But it wasn’t at all comforting. “So, this is the girl? This is the one who almost got you to change?”
“Don’t you touch her!”
Suddenly, Erik was thrown against the mirrored walls once more. And you didn’t hesitate. Running inside, you just reached Erik before you were thrown back from him and into a wall yourself.
“Y/n!”
“You’ve come a long way from bending gates,” Shaw said to him, watching him stand. “I’m proud of you. But don’t let her get in your way.”
Just as Erik went to move towards you, Shaw threw you, again. This time, Erik threw every metal beam he could to block Shaw’s path to you.
“Think about how much further we could go, together.”
Despite the dizziness, you could still make out the image in front of you. Erik, trying with all his might, to keep Shaw in his place. But, with a simple hand, he just pushed Erik back.
“This is our time, our age. We are the future of the human race.”
From your position on the floor, you could see Erik. And he could see you. Both of you, bloodied, cut and bruised.
“Get away from him!”
“Zip it.”
Suddenly, you felt a crushing weight on your chest and a growing inability to breathe.
“Let her go!”
“She’s nothing to you! Whereas I,” Shaw held the back of Erik’s head as if he was a father talking to his son. “I can help you find your everything. You have a calling, Erik. Don’t waste it on the likes of her.”
“Don’t–” You were struggling to talk. “Don’t let him– do this to you– Erik. Please.”
“Let her go.”
Shaw watched the look in Erik’s eyes turn…compliant. But his own ego didn’t see the darkness that lurked behind them.
Finally, able to breathe again, you tried to find the energy to stand. But it was a struggle.
“Everything you did, you made me stronger.”
“Erik…”
Erik couldn’t look at Shaw, but he did look at you. “Made me the weapon I am today.”
“It’s the truth. I’ve known that all along.”
Managing to stand, Erik’s gaze turned away from you and onto Shaw. You had an opportunity whilst he was distracted. You just hoped you would have the strength to pull him free.
“You are my creator.”
Reaching forward, you pulled the helmet from Shaw’s head, leaving both you and Erik to shout for Charles.
With the sound of metal dropping, you felt yourself fall to the ground with it.
“Y/n!”
Erik fell to his knees on the floor with you, holding your head up. “Hey, hey- stay with me. Y/n! Stay with me!”
“It hurts,” you said, weakly.
“Where? Let me-”
From your rib cage in a downward curve, there was a long slit of blood. Erik couldn’t tell how deep it was, but from the amount of blood starting to stain your skin and clothes, he knew it wasn’t good.
“Outside. I need to go outside. Let Charles take care of Shaw.”
Erik turned to where Shaw was still standing still.
“He’ll make him pay, Erik.” You assured him. “Don’t let the cost be you.”
It took a long moment, but eventually Erik walked away with you and helped you outside. Whilst Beast and Raven made their way inside the submarine, following Erik’s orders to make sure Shaw didn’t get away, he helped you into the water.
The salt stung your wound as you dropped to your knees, feeling the tide wash over you. Meanwhile, Erik kneeled beside you, cradling your head against him as you closed your eyes and tried to ignore the searing pain.
“You’re okay,” Erik continued to repeat, almost as a mantra to himself, in order to remind himself that you were alive. That, despite the pain, you were breathing.
You are alive. You are breathing. You are okay.
In a pain-filled daze, you looked up at Erik and saw the same man you had seen in the library. Erik. Your Erik. Erik, who knew kindness and wasn’t afraid to show it. Erik, who could feel something other than rage and his soul in torture.
Although the following situation wasn’t relaxing, you let your anger go. Erik had walked away, once. And, he could have done it again. But he didn’t.
Shaw was barely three feet from him, and he chose to leave with you.
Although some of the others continued fighting, which resulted in flying bullets, by the time you were all back on the jet, the world was getting hazier and hazier.
Charles lay on the floor of the jet. Moira was trying to make contact with her bosses, so Erik took her place beside Charles, holding his hand.
“I’m sorry, Charles. I should have seen it coming.”
“Don’t, Erik. It’ll be okay.”
“I could have stopped-”
“There were too many. Erik, all that matters now is that we’re together. As a team. My legs…the doctors will be able to help, if there is any hope of help.”
“There will be.”
Charles gave him a polite smile and squeezed his hand a little tighter. Then, he looked over to you. You had your eyes closed and your head tipped back against the seat, meanwhile, you were holding your side.
“It’s nice.” Charles smiled in a whisper.
“What is?” Erik managed to laugh.
“You two. Not fighting. You make quite the team when you’re not at each other's throats.”
Erik swallowed, his eyes falling on you with a kind look in his eyes.
“I love her, Charles.” Erik admitted, quietly.
“I know.”
“I never stopped.”
“Neither did she.”
Erik swallowed, looking back to his friend. He didn’t have to say his worries out-loud.
“It’ll take a little time, but it’ll be worth it. You’re good for each other.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so. Erik…trust her. Trust yourself. It’ll all work out together in the end.”
“Any other wise words, Professor?”
Charles gave a wet laugh, looking to the ceiling. “Yes. I suppose I’m a real professor now, aren’t I?”
“Not until you get the school up and running.”
Charles looked at Erik.
Erik looked around at the team. Despite being worn and beaten, they were mostly okay.
“You’ve got a good foundation, and a good idea. Why not help the kids figure out how to use their abilities? We are still the future, Charles.”
Charles chuckled, once more. “I suppose you have a point. Fancy teaching European History?”
Erik laughed. “That might be a push too far.”
From the pilot's seat, Hank called out the ETA for landing back at the school.
“Go,” Charles said, nodding over to you, to Erik. “I’ll be okay.”
Moria appeared behind Erik. “I’ve got him.”
Standing, Erik took a seat beside you. You barely opened your eyes to check who it was before you leaned your head against his shoulder and took his hand in your own.
Over the months of recovery for everyone, and the time it took for Charles to set up his school, it gave yourself and Erik time to grow together.
In the beginning, it was a little stagnant.
You were open to his help, and he was more than willing to give it. But there was still the unspoken hesitation. The fact he could have been half-way across the world, creating a mutant army, or hunting more soldiers.
But he wasn’t.
He was helping you.
Over time, it got easier. You both fell into a natural flow of things. Conversations got easier, there were less fights, neither one of you left the room the second the other walked in.
Kinder memories started to come to the front.
Slow mornings were spent in each other’s quiet company, surrounded by the smell of fresh coffee, fresh bread and danishes. The hurried mornings were started with a quick coffee, a surprise kiss on the cheek and a bite of toast.
Eventually, you and Erik found yourselves on the cusp of rediscovering the loving relationship you had once had with each other.
“You’re gonna fall.”
Erik had been watching you for the last three minutes trying to balance on an old kitchen chair, as you started to hang up your DIY Ancient History timeline.
“No, I’m not.”
Pushing himself from the beam of the doorway, Erik chuckled. “Famous last words.”
“Famous last words are like…Oh happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rust and let me die.” You sighed, a little annoyed as you needed to reach further to make the banner follow a coherent line. “Not-oh!”
Around your waist, you felt Erik’s arm take a strong-hold of you before he lowered you to the ground, spun you around and kissed you in a slight dip.
After a few moments, he replied, “And thus, with a kiss, I die.”
“You should teach English.”
Erik gave you a coy smile and set you back on your feet. “Either way, I don’t need your famous last words to be because of an unsafe chair. Give it.”
Handing over the end of the string, Erik changed the tac to a new one that wasn’t damaged and willed it to float up.
“Uhh…a little lower? Higher- stop!”
“There?”
You nodded. “There.”
Setting it into the wall, Erik pulled the chair away with him and stood beside you.
“Looks good.”
“Thanks,” you smiled. “Want me to make one for your classroom?”
“What?”
Still smiling at Erik, you moved away and reached into the top drawer of your desk. Erik, although curious, seemed a little scared as he followed you.
Walking back to him, hiding the nameplate behind you, you stopped directly in front of him.
“What’s in your hands?”
“A little something,” you shrugged.
“A little something…of what?”
Presenting it to him, name forward, you let him take it. “Congrats, Mr Lehnsherr. You are now the new teacher of European History. And, also, philosophy. That one is a class you’ll be sharing with Xavier, though.”
“Oh, will I?”
You hummed in a playful nod. “And, if you will follow me…” Taking his hand, Erik willingly followed you out of your classroom and straight across the hall.
“Welcome,” you said, opening the door and pushing it open. “To your new classroom.”
Erik couldn’t help but laugh a little as he stepped inside. He’d already made a deal with Charles that he wasn’t suited to a teaching position. Clearly, Charles thought differently.
And so did you.
“So long as you stop pushing people off satellite dishes, I’m sure you’ll be great.”
Erik turned around. “That was one time.”
You giggled, almost skipping across the laminated wooden floor and laying your arms over his shoulders. Without a second thought, he brought his own (and his nameplate) around your waist.
“So? What do you think?”
Erik looked around. “I think…I’m gonna need help.”
“Well,” you shrugged. “I’m just across the hall.”
“That is,” Erik shrugged and then nodded. “That is a bonus.”
You chuckled, leaning up and kissing him quickly.
By the time classes officially started up, it was safe to say you and Erik were far from the people you had been when you had first landed at the school.
Instead, you’d become the two people most students started a rumour about and were excited to find out it was true.
Synopsis: In an attempt to put yourself out there, you decide to take a relatively drastic approach by joining a group of like-minded individuals in a late-night, secret meeting. Costumes go on, toys are set out, and just as you step into the dark room, nerves hit. But one man seems to take an interest in you, and he shows you just how much fun those meetings can be.
Warnings: explicit nsfw content; bi!reader, magneto described as taller than the reader, latex cat costume worn, implied unspecified age gap, dom/sub dynamics, implied power imbalance, exhibitionism/voyeurism, organized sex party with consenting adults, dirty talk, descriptions of shyness/anxiety/nerves/embarrassment, "sir" used, bondage mentioned, gangbang but like without the actual sex part, collar & leash, light spanking, nipple stim, clit stim, fingering, anal (fingering & plug), oral (reader receiving), toys (plug w/a cat tail, magic wand), sybian, forced orgasms (kinda), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, almost orgasm torture (going until reader can't go any longer), slight aftercare
Word Count: 7.9k
A/N: Happy Kinktober! I was apparently very productive during the summer months. Here's one written in June! Happy reading :)
A week ago, you’d done something you’d never in your life ever thought you’d do. No personal information. Not even a fake name. Just the limits of consent, predetermined activities with some room for experimentation, a massive room full of comfortable places to sit, lounge, and relax, and…costumes. Masks to cover identifying features, but clothing? There wasn't a single piece of "normal" clothing in the bunch. And most weren't more than sheer fabric stitched together to pretend to cover those that were there to play.
Well, the ones like you that were there to play. The ones paying you to let them play with you.
You went through all the proper channels–or as proper as proper could get–and by the end of it, your hands shaking, your body craving the excitement, the risk, the need after going so long with being too nervous to put yourself out there…. You were there. Dressed in what they called a black cat costume, except it was a latex suit suctioned to your skin. Multiple zippers pressed into your skin as you were led into the dark room with multiple others interested in playing, just like you.
One went all the way up to the top of your neck like a mock turtleneck. One more went over your chest, where it pressed uncomfortably into your nipples. Down where they'd strictly told you that you couldn't wear any underwear, you had another between your legs. Started right at the top of your cunt and then went all the way back down to your ass. For easy access, someone said when they'd seen your outfit.
Your cheeks were a burning red when you slid into the line, every step squeaky and awkward, but thankful you weren't the only one in a latex get-up. It just…felt painfully awkward, no matter how you tried to brush it off. Nerves were getting to you as the hallway became a door, and the door opened up to the dark room where you could hear others but couldn't see them. Not yet. You would soon, though.
And you were left in a line as someone checked something on your back. A piece of paper that'd been slapped to your back, stuck like a sticker. You hadn't seen what it was, but when the person in front of you had one put on them, you could only guess you were the black cat to their angel. And…eight was in front of them. No names, but the costume titles were allowed. Okay.
You idly adjusted your mask underneath the dim spotlights overhead. However large or small the room was, when all you could see was the dark corners, you couldn’t make out the size. Or just how many people were there. At least one. You sucked in a slow breath as some footsteps sounded behind you.
"I've already gone over the rules with them," the woman who'd led the charge said somewhere out of sight. But that wasn't her walking behind you. "They know the rules, as I know all our repeats in here do as well. And we do have a few first-timers, so be kind. Or…."
There was a warm touch through the top of your suit, and a shiver went down your spine. A hand. It was large and all-encompassing as it passed over your shoulder. It didn't linger there, though. It went between your shoulder blades and skated down to the center of your back, where the costume title had been slapped onto you. The tips of their fingers? Their knuckles? Their hand lifted, and some part of their hand was an unexpectedly light touch over the scratchy paper. And then there was another step forward.
It was an involuntary clench when their hand skated down to your waist. It was a possessive touch, you knew that much. Like they owned you. Their fingers splayed higher, going across your ribcage as they pulled you back into them. They were tall. Taller than you. Wider. Harder. Muscular? And fully clothed, it felt. You held your breath as their arm flexed in a grip that wasn’t inherently tight, but more like a show of strength.
“What’s your word?” they whispered. Their voice was a low, commanding octave. The soft breath it took tickled your ear, and with nothing to grab onto with your hands, you merely felt them tremble before you closed them into fists.
“Pluto,” you breathed. Wow. How awfully strained your voice sounded. If those in the room weren’t filled in on your first-time-visitor status, they certainly were just from that. “It’s…it’s Pluto.”
“Good.”
Their hand fell a moment later, and then the footsteps continued. Were you brimming with anticipation? Yes. Were you shaking a little with unbridled nerves as they continued on down the line? Also yes. And did you sneak a peek at the person walking the line? Absolutely.
Just the faintest turn of your head as you saw him. He was hard as hell to miss with how he fucking towered over everyone within eye-shot. And you tried to be subtle about it, and you really thought you had been. But maybe it was the long white hair pulled back out of his eyes or the pressed white shirt and dark jacket combination that made him feel…not out of place, but more like he owned it.
Wide shoulders gave way to thick arms and a broad chest. Thick thighs that filled out the dress pants he wore that must've been fit by a tailor. And those large hands stayed by his side as he walked by the next few people. But the biggest takeaway? No mask. His pensive expression held interest and curiosity more than the general lust you expected from someone who'd take part in this. It was there–there was no denying that–but there was a thousand times more than merely just that in the span that it took for him to not only catch you peering back at him but the look he gave you.
Bad black cat, your eyes are supposed to be forward.
His mouth curled into the faintest smirk while his sky-blue eyes glinted like hellfire.
You felt something much worse than butterflies in your stomach that went far lower. A second later, you jerked your attention forward, listening to your heart race as he walked around to the front of the line, back to all of you. You shifted in place, trying to get some attempt at comfortability back. But as he began to speak about having a memorable evening, with one lift of his hand, the lights came on. And you realized the gravity of the situation you’d found yourself in.
Three dozen people occupied the room at least. It was mostly some combination of reds and blacks with benches, couches, tables, a few daybeds, sex swings, and other areas for specific bondage types. Chairs were set around for people to lounge and watch; to get blown or licked. Toys were…everywhere. All kinds of toys, all with condoms over top of them and more for safe use. Lubes, condoms, whips, and collars with leashes were everywhere. And…and your heart was in your throat. Your hands were shaking. You'd been overzealous in what you'd agreed to when you'd filled out the form. Very, very overzealous.
And you were supposed to pick where you went. You were supposed to lay back somewhere or bat your lashes and ask for help getting bound onto something. You couldn’t do that. You could hardly bring yourself to even pick out breakfast, let alone clothing. One of your friends had to pick out your prom dress for you. And when you finally bit the bullet and ordered your first toy for yourself? You’d spent days struggling to narrow down the options.
Add serious high pressure to the scenario, and you were just fucking done for.
You–
A warm hand touched your back, and you actively jumped. Just a little, but just enough. It slid higher up your back, covering where the stick sat with a warm, strong press. And when you peered up, your pulse thundering in your ears like a damn hurricane, there were those blue eyes. A knowing, amused, yet almost soft smile was there.
“You need a bit of help choosing, don’t you?” he murmured.
Reluctantly, you nodded.
“Vocalize it.” He guided you forward with a strong push, but he didn’t shove. It was just enough strength to tell you to listen. To follow. To move.
“I do,” you said quickly. “I’m…sorry.”
“Do not apologize.”
His hand went lower. His fingers brushed the top of your ass as he walked you over to where a few others were gathering by…a particularly large-looking chair. Something close to a throne. Welded from metal and full of intricate designs that you hardly got a chance to look at. The action did absolutely nothing to settle your nerves as he stopped you in your place before simply…sitting.
As massive as the chair was, he was bigger. Huge. He fully encompassed it as he lounged back, tilting his head back and slightly to the side as he looked at you. Older than you by more than a few years and so undoubtedly handsome, you actually felt those flutters again when he looked at you.
“I…I’m….” You bit your tongue at the urge to apologize for apologizing. He must've sensed it because he cocked a white eyebrow, not in curiosity but almost a warning. "Okay." You felt awkwardness seep through you as you stood in the too-tight suit in the too-full room with too many eyes on you. With his eyes on you. “I don’t…know what I’m supposed to do. I’m sorr–”
His mouth twitched into a wider smile, and with a wave of one hand, there was movement from someone else. You aimed to follow what the hell they were doing, but another wave of his hand and a snap of his fingers had your eyes only leaving him for a second.
“Come here.” He curled his finger once at you, and on wobbly legs, you walked up to where he sat. “You apologize over the meaningless and the small all the time, don’t you?”
Well. You’d never claimed to not be an open book, but it was a punch to your nonexistent ego that a stranger had picked up on it so quickly. You sucked in a quiet breath as you heard movement behind you. Something heavy was set down. Then something clinked.
“Sometimes,” you stuttered.
Ah, the familiar sense of self-hatred that seeped through you at just saying the word was agonizing.
The man leaned forward then. The air just seemed to shift around him, and you felt an impossible draw that had you trying to step even closer. You ended up just bumping into his knees. And…earned a small twitch in his smile that made his eyes crinkle, all while you thought you were going to break apart into a thousand embarrassed pieces.
“Then perhaps,” he murmured, the warm tips of his fingers a muted touch through the long latex bodysuit sleeves, “we’ll have to train that out of you.”
Your breath hitched when those blue eyes stayed on you. The intensity behind them, the sincerity…. You swallowed hard, completely unable to say anything. You hardly even noticed when a small wired remote was set down in a perfectly sized divot on the armrest. It was damn near impossible to do so when he had his fingers moving up to trail down the front of your suit. A slow, teasing drag that hit the zippers up higher but didn't open them. And then lower. Down over your stomach, belly button, and right where the circular charm connected to the zipper sat over your cunt.
He hooked a single finger through it but didn't move it. There was just enough pressure that, along with how your eyes were glued to the sight of it, you felt yourself start to clench and gush. The zipper wasn't uncomfortable against you when you were standing, but as he started to pull up instead of down, you felt the press of the metal right against your cunt. Your clit.
You sucked in a sharp breath but said nothing.
"Will you do as you are told, black cat?"
Your exhale was as awkward and shaky as your inhale. You’d started to nod, too, before you remembered what he’d said.
“I will.”
He drew his eyes over you before he nodded. Not at you. As someone else. And a second later, something cold, leather, and thick was being clasped around your neck. The soft click was right in your ear before you heard another. And there went a silver chain glinting right from the center of your neck and down…into his other hand.
"Then come here," he mused, giving the leash a lazy tug. Enough of one until your knee was resting in between the spot where his legs were spread. The plush bottom of the chair cushioned just enough to leave your weight there, and both hands went to the back, just behind him.
His eyes glimmered as he tugged not on the leash but on where his finger remained looped through the circle pendant on your zipper. And you felt how restrictive the latex suit really was as your chest heaved with every tantalizing breath.
“And let me see you,” he added.
He kept a light hold on the leash as your eyes flicked down. The mast covering the top part of your face–cat ears attached to round off the costume–only made it semi-awkward to watch. But you had to watch. Nope, no you couldn't. You looked up the second the zipper gave way. You looked at the chain first, and then as air started to hit where he was slowly baring you, his eyes glued right on down where the zipper parted, you shut your eyes. Took a harsher grip on the back of the chair, took a few shaky breaths, and clamped your eyes shut hard.
A moment later, the zipper stopped, and only your cunt was visible. Bare. And…based on his quiet laugh, wet.
“Let me touch you,” he whispered.
And then came the warm, rough drag of his fingers. First up top, where his fingers trailed over the sensitive skin, then down lower, avoiding your clit as he went between your folds. Holy fuck. You felt your elbows bend a bit as they threatened to give out, but you refused. You fought it. You felt your mouth part as the backs of his fingers went up, and they brushed against your clit.
All around you, as his fingers went lower and one pressed against your entrance, the sounds were beyond obscene. Everyone had already gotten into it. Had already really started. Toys whirred, skin slapped skin, sucking and licking and moaning and whimpering. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip as they all came to overwhelm, and then you felt his finger press into you. Slowly, but fully.
And you hung your head just a bit.
“How wet and eager you are,” he whispered, a light tone of somewhere between mockery and amusement settled into his words.
“I’m sor….” You bit back the word. “I’m….”
But you had no explanation. You had no excuse. You hadn’t been able to deny the fact that you’d been extremely excited–as excited as you were horribly nervous–at the thought of letting a bunch of strangers play with you, touch you, tease you, fuck you, get you off. But actually doing it. Actually facing that fact in the face of one of them, one who exuded power like it ran through his veins, was a whole different reality to handle. Let alone the fact that you felt yourself give way with fucking ease to his finger, your walls fluttering around it as he pressed in knuckle deep.
“Oh my….”
He curled his finger a few times, clearly exploring. Clearly searching. But when he found the spot that had you nearly falling atop him, that's when his finger was gone. Out it went, and he brought your slick with it. You refused to look down, but you knew his finger was glistening. You felt it as it went over your clit with easy strokes. Wonderful strokes.
You felt his hair–soft as hell–against your cheek. Your hands found his shoulders by accident, and your forehead came to press against his shoulder after. Maybe in an attempt to hide yourself or curl in on yourself to avoid the fact that even just little strokes against your clit had you bucking your hips for more.
“You are missing a vital piece of your costume, you know.”
The leash in his hand jingled as he waved it. You had no choice but to open your eyes. As you did, though, his hand shifted. His palm pressed against your clit as not one but two fingers were back at your entrance. It was humiliating how easily you two both of them, no matter how large they were.
You couldn’t stop the moan that fell from your lips as he plunged them into you. Not hard, not fast. A slow speed that had your head spinning. You could feel yourself dripping down his fingers–you’d ruin his pants, too. But you just took every thrust they gave you, took the drag of his palm over your clit and the curl of his fingers against your sweet spot. You tilted your head and pressed it against his jaw without meaning to. He smelled like cinnamon and a spiced aftershave.
“Worry not,” he whispered, tilting his head until you felt his lips brush your ear. “It’s your first time here. We will treat you right.” He worked your cunt just a little faster. “By the end of the night, all you will know is pleasure.”
Your cunt fluttered as something low in your gut started to do the same. Except it wasn’t stopping. A hand on your back that didn’t belong to him pressed you forward, and a woman’s voice cooed in your ear for you to be a real good kitty and keep still. Except it was really, really fucking hard to do that when the man you were with was fingering your cunt like he knew the intricacies of how to touch you. Like he knew that exactly everything he was doing was pushing you closer and closer to your climax.
And the woman hummed as he reached down. Your cheeks burned unbearably hot when you felt her go to the zipper, and without thinking, you pressed your face into the crook of his neck to hide whatever involuntary reaction you were about to have. Your cunt was fluttering with every next thrust of his fingers, your clit was throbbing underneath his palm, and then…the zipper was pulled back all the way.
The tension of the bodysuit gave just enough, and with the added cold rush of air from the air conditioner, you felt exactly how exposed you were. And without warning, you were basically nudged onto his lap. It wasn't hard or even remotely painful, but you were quick to adjust without banging your knees onto anything. And while you were gifted the wonderfully hard, hot, and thick feel of the man underneath you, two hands came in to spread you.
Then, a soft click.
And his fingers inside you worked you faster. Your climax teetered closer. So close. Close enough to the point where you were trembling and tensing. Clinging to him like he was the anchor in rough waters, you whined out a moan when his fingers hit your sweet spot just the right way again. You choked on it when there was a freezing dribble where you were kept spread.
“Fingers first,” he mused beside you. “Then you may continue.”
Oh. Oh, god.
You felt her finger rub the lube over your asshole. Slow movements that made your nerves stand on edge. The kind that had your legs closing as your cunt squeezed and…didn't stop. Wait. You panted into his neck as his fingers squelched into you, and…and you couldn’t help it. It was too fast for how nervous you were. It was too fast when you’d wanted to hold it off to fully enjoy all the potential fun that you’d been so excited for before it all.
But you were there already.
Your toes curled and your fingers dug into the thick muscle on the shoulders and your cunt clenched so tightly around his fingers as you started to reach your peak. Too soon. You moaned against him involuntarily. And almost just as involuntarily, as the woman pressed her finger into you–the stretching sensation shooting through you with exhilaration–you came. You hadn't meant to, and you damn well couldn't stop it. And there it was.
Your cunt fluttered, and you gushed around his fingers.
Hard.
You had her entire finger wiggling around inside you by the time you were lifting off his lap and angling your hips back for easier access for the both of them.
“Fuck. Fuck.” You burrowed into the same spot that you refused to move from. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Your orgasm ripped through you without a moment of hesitation. It wasn't a kind one like you might get in the middle of the night or early in the morning. It made you clench hard, shake, and writhe on his lap. As you took his fingers through every second of it, his mouth left a smile against your ear that only sent a warm shiver down your spine.
“There you go,” he murmured almost…almost soothingly. It contrasted with the roughening thrusts of his fingers, the wiggling of the one in your ass, and the sudden rush of embarrassment as everyone else around you watched you. Watched the others getting far more into it than you even thought possible for yourself right then and there. “That’s it. Yes. There you go.”
His fingers stilled, but the woman's didn't. It wasn't the first time you'd had something in your ass, but it was the first time someone else was doing it. And was far more vulnerable than you'd expected, but you kept yourself about as composed as you could post orgasm. Which…wasn't exactly anything near composed. But as the leash clinked against the side of the throne while his hand came up to cup the back of your head, you actually felt a little better. A little safer.
And then you heard the lube squirt again. Your breath caught hard, and two fingers lifted from the back of your head. There was a pause only around you, hands remaining to keep you spread, but whatever it was for never came.
“What is your word?” he whispered in your ear.
“Pluto,” you muttered, out of breath, clit twitching for more while nerves battled against the sensation in your stomach.
“And you know you can say it at any time. You can say it now if you wish.” His mouth grazed against your ear again. “But we are not mind readers, so you must say it.”
Part of you almost said you were sorry again.
But you caught yourself. Miraculously.
“Yes, sir,” you muttered. A slip. It was just an air about him that brought it out of you.
And you felt his chest move with a short and sweet laugh.
“Good.”
His fingers lowered, and you sucked in a slow breath as there was movement again. His fingers slowly stroked your clit as something cold and metal pressed against you. Something…something furry dangled from the end, too. Something long, fluffy, and furry. And it wasn't large, but it wasn’t a small thing that pressed into you. For a few seconds, as you stretched obscenely around it, you almost wondered if it was actually a small dildo. But nope. The base flared out then dropped to the tiny stem before the base of the plug was nestled against your asshole.
And you felt fucking stuffed.
His fingers worked your clit a little faster as the hands kept you spread for any onlookers to see. And the woman behind you reached down. Something bulbous and covered with a condom slid between your legs next. Replacing where his hand was once on your clit. And you heard and felt him wipe his fingers off on where your inner thigh was just barely accessible with the zipper open.
And before you could process the sticky sensation, there was a click. A soft click that was hardly heard over the rest of the begs and moans and cries of pleasure hidden out of sight. But when that click finished, and the toy whirred to life, yours joined them. There was a quiet laugh behind you that told you more people had gathered to watch you, but that wasn't the only reason your grip tightened on his shirt. The woman with the toy pressed the head right against your clit without mercy. The hands on your ass groped and gave light spanks and…and as the vibrations battered your clit to the point where you could only moan into the man's neck, someone gave the plug a tug.
From the base of whatever came from the end of it–a tail? A rope? Something long enough that you felt it lift just before there was a gentle tug, then another. Then a rocking sensation, almost like the toy was fucking you.
“Oh, fuck. Please. Please. Please.” Your hips rocked on the wand like a switch had been flipped inside of you. “Please, don’t stop. Oh my god? Oh, fuck.”
One of your hands took the long white strands of hair down from his hairband as you threaded your fingers through the soft strands. You hadn't meant to even touch his hair, and the apology sputtered out in some half-attempt through another bursting gasp as your hips rocked where you were starting to gush and flutter far too emptily.
"Fuck, s-sorry. Didn't…I didn't mean…." You felt one finger lift from your head, and then the toy flicked. Not off. Higher.
You came.
There was no lead-in. No sudden shift. No gradual pleasure that'd been building all prior to that. The second the toy went to what had to be its highest setting, you felt your cunt clamp down over nothing, your body tense hard, and then, suddenly, you were trying to lift from the toy while hands tugged on the tail of the plug. And you came so unbelievably hard, you felt tears slip.
Whatever words left your mouth were incoherently babble. You tugged on his shirt and nuzzled against him and moaned far louder than you ever had before. Gushed over the toy until your body couldn’t anymore, and your hips pulled away. From all hands.
But they pulled you right back.
It was a brief reprieve as you tried to lean into where he still held you with a soft hand on the back of your head, but there was nowhere to go. And you contemplated saying Pluto when they pulled you back down. You really did–it was on the tip of your tongue and ready for the next plea. But then they wiggled the toy over your clit, and they tugged on the plug harder, and there…was another. You writhed in the overstimulation as pleasure and pain met at the center. The mixture of your wetness and the condom stretched over the toy made an awfully vulgar sound that made every part of you burn hot and unbearable, but you were there again.
The wiggling of the toy, the harsher tugs of the plug….
You came again with a desperate plea.
You were trembling, sweaty, and crying a little when the man beneath you raised two fingers. As ecstasy ricocheted through you, the hands fell away from you, as did the toy. You rocked your hips against nothing as you chased the extra sensations to elongate the pleasure, but they were there. Hadn’t mattered–you were weak with a rapturous feeling so wonderful, you almost asked for them to keep going.
Almost.
You weren’t given the chance.
“Now that we have you warmed up, we can really begin,” he murmured, and something fucking broke in all the most fascinating ways inside your stomach.
“That’s…getting warmed up?”
Your voice was a shy, soft, breathy sound that came in between attempts at catching said breath. You still didn’t lift your head, and he didn’t seem to be interested in forcing you. Either at all or simply not yet. Although, you felt bad that he’d picked you. You could tell by the enthusiasm of all the others surrounding you that they would’ve been much better partners to spend the evening with.
You felt his laugh in his chest before you heard it.
"It is." He rubbed the back of your head in a way that felt almost like a joke, considering your costume. "We are simply going to test your limits."
You slowly lifted your head. Why that made you need to look in his eyes, well, you weren't interested in knowing the answer. You were looking into his eyes so quickly, you couldn't even pretend to have a second to answer it. They were so blue and so bright yet held a darkness that only drew you in. A rope coming around you that you couldn't decipher whether it was a lasso or a noose.
He dropped his hand from your head, and with two fingers on your chin, he turned you to look behind you.
First thing you noticed was the gorgeous woman kneeling behind you, her dark eyes glued to your cunt as she lazily held the toy out. Covered in your slick. With…about five other people watching behind her, hands on their crotches and eyes locked on you. Then came the black tail that was stuck to the end of the plug and…the two people who were on either side of the throne that must've been the ones to keep you spread.
Then…. Then, as your stomach twisted with embarrassment, nerves, excitement, and lust, you saw a large thing on the floor. A little black hump that looked both padded yet hard. The top of it had a silicone saddle on it with…ridges going along the bottom and a long, thick cock protruding near the center.
A small black cord went from the front and came right on up to…his chair.
“Sit there.” He stroked his fingers almost tenderly over your jaw. Whatever reaction he was aiming for, you couldn’t tell, but you found yourself leaning into his touch with a shuddering sigh. “And while I see how many times I can make you cum, the others will touch. Play. Do as they wish and as you wish.”
He pinched your chin and brought you back to look at him. Maybe you were too inexperienced in the field, but when he brought you closer, so, so fucking close that you could feel his breath on your lips, you had the urge to kiss him. A momentary flash of a thought that you at least had the forethought to dampen before it took you over.
But you did find yourself staring at his lips in the process.
“Can you do that for me?”
You nodded twice before remembering you had to speak. “Yes. Yes, I can.”
He cocked a brow and kept your chin tilted up with a knowing look on his face. Oh. The tips of your ears burned.
“Yes, sir.”
He gave you a small nod of his head, and then…his hands were off of you. His hands were off, then more were on you to kindly help you move, and you kept your eyes on him as you were guided down onto the saddle. You couldn't look away from where he held the leash in one hand and moved his other to the armrest. His fingers went atop a dial that made you flutter first with anticipation and then again as the tip of the silicone cock was pressing against your entrance.
You whined as you sank down.
You choked out a sob when he turned the dial, and the whole saddle roared to life. The entire thing vibrated harshly, letting you feel it in your thighs, your cunt, your clit, where the plug was still inside of you, and even in the rest of you. It was wicked and distracting in all the best ways, and as you tried to find a comfortable position to sit in, rocking your hips against it for extra friction where your clit was already being bombarded with vibrations, the hands came back.
One tugged on the plug again, rocking it in and out of you with the short, quick thrusts that were quickly pushing you closer to another climax. And then two more came, one to undo your zipper going across your chest, then another to immediately touch what was bared. First, with fingers that tweaked and tugged and pinched. Then, with toys that vibrated and tickled.
You came as two people strategically lowered their heads and lapped at your nipples.
You fell forward, gushing over the toy, fucking yourself on it to get every last drop out of yourself that you could. And then two hands came down to keep you on the saddle as if you were going to rise from it. They held you there as those blue eyes crinkled with a smile, and his fingers turned the dial. Up. Up and up until the vibrations were so strong, all you could do was take the overwhelming pleasure as you moaned and thrashed on the toy. Until the person tugging on the plug gave it a few extra harsh jerks, and there was hardly a break between your last climax and then that one.
You could feel how wet and sticky the toy was beneath you. But it was hard to let that get to you when people were starting to angle you back on the toy, hands still tweaking your nipples when the woman from before came closer. Pulled back just like that–holy fuck–you sobbed as the cock pressed and vibrated against your sweet spot damn near unbearably.
It was so overwhelming that when the woman lowered her head, parted your folds so she could get direct contact with your clit, and flicked her tongue over your clit…. You felt pleasure shoot toward you again. Harder. You thrashed on top of the saddle, gushing as the soft, welcomed licks of her tongue were so, so kind in comparison to the vibrations.
You bucked your hips up to meet where she hardly gave you any contact as you came with a gush.
And…that was how the evening went. The mystery man on the throne simply watched–his cock obviously hard in his pants–but nobody came up to do anything about it. He didn't do anything about it. Even with how painful it looked, his cock was untouched. At least there.
He just watched from his throne, cock erect, one hand holding your leash–tugging when you tried to sputter out an apology–and the other on the controller for the toy. Up and down, left and right; the levels went all over the place until you were moved between the two positions, and you were going back and forth with harsh vibrations driving you beyond the point of sensitivity and then up to the woman's sweet, sweet tongue.
All until you reached your breaking point.
Until you couldn't cum anymore. Until you were being fully fucked by a hand that pulled the plug out and pressed it back in. Your hands shook, your clit was sore and throbbing and swollen an embarrassing amount. And as one last orgasm hit you painfully and you practically came dry, you sputtered out the word on the sob. Your cheeks were wet as you hung your head.
Before you even finished the word, the toy was off. One hand was on your back while another was on your thigh. A look was exchanged between you and the man, and he must've seen something in it before he waved and the people scattered. He was kneeling on the floor a second later, both hands coming to you in a way that had you melting against him in a way a stranger didn't deserve.
The collar was unclasped.
Then, the plug was gingerly pulled out.
And a hand was running soothing circles on your lower back.
“Fifteen,” he murmured next to your ear. “You came for me fifteen times.”
All you did was shudder out a breath.
“I want more from you next time.” He lowered his hand down, and he got a fistful of your ass as he pulled you off of the saddle. Except you had no strength in your legs after that, and you were on the floor a second later. But he didn’t complain as you clung to him for support. Excitement coursed through you as you processed his words, too. “Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
"Such a quick learner," he cooed. The backs of his fingers went over your cheek and wiped away a stray tear. "There is quite a lot I can teach you." The tips of his fingers brushed under your chin, and you felt your mouth part just a little as those eyes locked on yours. "Come. We will end your night here."
And so you were passed along to two others who helped you on weak, wobbly legs to the bathroom. A robe was offered, given the state of your costume, and you took it, earning a sly smile from the man who was watching you from the throne as others cleaned up the mess you'd left behind. A shower was turned on for you, a towel was given, and they triple-checked with you that you were okay before they left you to wash up.
Then, after a brief checkout period, you were out. Driving home. Rinsing off again there. Changing into pajamas. Falling into bed as exhaustion hit. And clarity. So much clarity. But it was…so fucking hard to hate yourself for it. In fact, as sore as you were–and sore you’d be for days–you already wanted to go back.
When you woke up the next morning even sorer, you were a little more hesitant. Then you just pictured the man again. Felt him. Felt the toys against you. And nerves and embarrassment could only do so much to keep that away. But you had to wait until the soreness died down. And…and real-life wanted your attention. Work called and came and drew you into meetings. Talks of mergers and deadlines and parent company drama raged on as you handled two projects back to back, the deadlines approaching, your body healing and aching for a repeat. Knowing you had to go to bed every fucking night without going back there yet.
Worrying that he might’ve thought you’d chickened out or simply lost interest. You hadn’t. You hadn’t.
And seven days later, when you were still a little sore, you were still thinking about the evening. Still replaying every damn second of it in your head while you drove to work and tried to get your head in the game, but you just kept going back to it all. And you winced a little as you adjusted the pencil skirt that felt reminiscently too tight as you rushed toward the front doors–a little later than usual, but nothing egregious.
Twenty minutes late wasn’t horrible when nine times out of ten, your boss came in an hour late every day.
Except….
You stumbled onto the floor that he shared only with you, and you felt panic rise when you saw not only was there a light on in his office, but his door was shut. A shut door meant a meeting. Oh, fuck. You tripped over yourself as you rushed to your desk, dropping your purse on accident as you plopped into your seat.
“Fuck,” you whispered, quickly logging into your computer as you heard movement in the office across from you. “The one time I’m late in a few months. Seriously?”
You flattened down your blouse, adjusted your monitor, and immediately clicked open your schedule, your email, your work portal, and the last project you’d been working on. There was more movement. The sounds of footsteps and talking. As it got closer to the door, you spun in your rolly chair just a bit to turn your focus fully onto the computer, clicking away like you hadn’t just stumbled in there and were actually being very dutiful and checking your work.
Then the door swung open.
“Really, Erik, as infuriating as you can be, it is always nice to see you on good terms. And, ah. (Y/N), how kind of you to join us.”
Damn it. You deflated a little as you sighed. Hank knew your habits too damn well. But he still greeted you with a smile as you spun to fully face them with your own polite, professional, perfectly kind smile. As you greeted all visitors, especially those who were friends of Hank’s.
Except….
"Erik, meet my best employee, (Y/N)." Hank motioned a hand to the tall, broad-shouldered, white-haired, commanding man beside him. And your body had a few different reactions. One that included a sense of utter panic that had you wrinkling your skirt under your desk. Another being an involuntary breath that hitched a little too hard as your eyes locked. "(Y/N), my friend and business associate, Erik."
Oh, god. Business associate?
You were silently praying that Erik wouldn't recognize you as you forcibly tore your eyes away from him to look at Hank. Your curiosity was easy to turn into a mere look while your heart pounded away inside you and your thighs pressed together. One night with him, and all it took to make your cunt clench and your clit ache was to look at him. Be in the same room as him. Be within touching distance.
Oh, fuck. You continued that prayer that he wouldn’t recognize you.
If he did, he gave no allusion to it.
“Erik is going to help me on a new research venture and will be visiting often these next few weeks. Pay him no mind unless he tries to barge in during any other important meetings.”
“Yes, sir,” you said with a nod and a polite smile.
And Hank gave you that smile that could light up a room. It would’ve lit that one up if you were internally panicking.
He peered over at Erik next, and you tried really hard not to pay attention to how he was wearing a white dress shirt until his dark coat. Was it the same dark coat? You were going to go insane if you didn’t get up and get some fresh air. Or maybe take everything back from the last week and spare yourself whatever the fuck bad luck you’d stumbled into in the process. Because what the fuck?
“And Erik, please be kind to my friend here. She truly is my best employee.” The phone in Hank’s office started to ring with an abrupt and shrill sound. You…jumped. Accidentally, but you were so tense, you couldn’t help it. “Oh, shoot. One moment, Erik. That might be about a grant I’m waiting on.”
Hank didn't even wait for Erik's response. Just turned and did as he always did when he was on his time and research time–went where progress was. And suddenly, you were left alone with Erik. Erik. You weren’t supposed to fucking know his name. You weren’t supposed to see anyone from that outside in the real world. It was a fantasy trapped in the dark for debauchery and sin between strangers.
So you did the best casual yet tight smile you could as you turned to click at nothing on your computer just to have an excuse to look away. And you said the only polite thing you could since Hank would be sad if you weren’t kind to his friend.
“Pleased to meet you,” you said, voice a tad strained. “If there’s anything I can do for you meanwhile Hank does…that. Just let me know.”
Normally, you’d ask how they knew Hank. You’d take the curiosity route and pick their mind. But nope. Not him. Not like that. Nope. You swallowed hard as you felt his gaze slip over you. Slowly. Please. Your breathing got a little quicker and a little stiffer, and you refused to look away from your computer screen. There was no chance you could look at him. And certainly not when Hank was standing just a few feet away in his office on his phone.
You caught him shifting again, both hands sliding into his pockets. A little tilt of his head was noticeable, too, and you contemplated just taking a bathroom break. The longer you were in the room with him, the longer you risked getting caught, and the longer you risked more bodily reactions that were betraying you by the second.
“I’m quite alright, but thank you,” he said after a moment. His voice was soft and low. The same kind of soft and low as it’d been when he was behind you, sauntering behind the rest of those there with you. You could still feel every goddamn touch…. “The masks are a mere attempt to hide faces.”
Your breath caught.
Your heart felt like it was going to break free from your chest.
You didn’t look away from your computer.
“There are easier giveaways than what we pretend to keep hidden underneath them.”
You so, so agonizingly slowly tore your gaze from your monitor. Your hands shook as you swallowed hard; then there he was. Smiling down at you with a knowing, amused, and clearly fascinated grin. He drew his eyes over you again. Slower. Just as he had with you in the latex outfit.
The sound of Hank hanging the phone up made you jump again, and Erik's smile grew wider. It lasted as long as it took for Hank's footsteps to get close, and then, as you felt like your world was turning upside down, Erik cleared his throat and brought his voice back to a slightly less…sensual tone.
“The pleasure in our meeting was all mine, (Y/N),” Erik said with those damn blue eyes on you. You felt your cunt clench. “I have another meeting I have to catch, so until next time.” He nodded at Hank. “See you tomorrow, Hank.”
His eyes flicked toward you as he took a step back from your desk. It seared itself into you and had you squirming in place. You fucking needed the friction. Needed the contact. Needed to be filled again.
“(Y/N),” Erik hummed.
And then his back was to you, and he was gone. All while Hank was already in work mode, writing down notes on sticky notes as he recited moments from the phone call. You didn't look away from Erik, though. Not even once as he left. And you finally got a breath of fresh air when Hank retreated into his office to write something down, leaving you alone at your desk.
"Fuck me," you muttered, sitting back in your chair while your body burned alight with a new anticipation that shouldn't be there.
But of all people to come into the office–no, to be associated with Hank and to be working with him?
You couldn't tell whether that was the world's best luck or the worst.
i WROTE THIS TO SAY SOMETHING, YOU KNOW THE ONE and boy i think it shows a little defintiely
Warnings: It’s pretty much a basic break up, i
You stare at the grass, at the trees rustling in the wind. Anything so you don’t have to turn and see the look on your… What is he anymore? Ex-something. Anything so you don’t have to look into his eyes.
“So this is it?” You croak, still staring out into the bright, beautiful day. You hear him shift behind you, and your heart cracks as the silence builds.
“I’m Erik.” The man smiled, his eyes shadowed, but a sweet tilt to his lips that had you smiling back.
“Y/N. What brought you over here?” You ask softly, twirling the straw in your drink and he glances down the bar, where another man beams at him. “Ah.”
“Oh no, just an old friend.” He says quickly and you nod slowly, smiling and he groans softly, leaning against the bar. “You’re beautiful. I just couldn’t look at your smile any longer and not know your name.”
You giggle softly, rolling your eyes but leaning toward him all the same.
“Y/N, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He says softly and you can’t help the sarcastic laugh that bursts from your lips.
“So you can bend metal?” You whisper, amazement lacing your voice and he smiles, just a touch, and you shift closer. The coin rolls across his fingers before jumping onto your palm where you’ve realized you’re reaching. You can’t help jumping at the movement and he laughs softly, slowing the coin as you flip your palm and settling it in the middle of your hand. “That’s amazing.”
“It is a hard gift.” He surmises softly and you stare at the coin, head tilting as you rub a thumb over it.
“It’s a regular coin, millions like it. And yet… You can give it a touch of life.” You whisper, glancing up for a second to meet his eyes before your eyes are drawn to the coin again. “It’s like something from a novel.”
Erik shifts forward, his palm capturing your jaw and lifting your face toward him,
“Can I kiss you?” He whispers roughly and you nod, wide eyed, only to melt into his touch as his lips press to yours.
“Me, make it harder? I’m letting you go, Erik. I’m not fighting this.” You hiss, your back straight and your muscles tight. He sighs softly, but you can’t, you just can’t, look at him.
“I love you.” You whisper, groaning softly at the words and rubbing your temples. It may be the truth but it’s not something he’ll be happy to hear. No matter what he feels for you, or you for him, he’d never risk your life with the words. “I love you.”
You can’t help repeating yourself, the words tasting different than they always have, a tangible feeling attached to them. A realness you’ve never known before, a meaning they’ve never quite held.
“Y/N.” Erik says from the door and you startle, spinning with your hand to your heart. The blood drains from your face at his expression and you can’t help shaking your head hurriedly.
“I didn’t mean it about you.” You rush out, swallowing hard and forcing a bright smile. Turning, you run a finger along the edge of the globe before you. “I… Can’t say I’m not in love with this.”
He chuckles softly, the sound filled with obviously false relief as he steps up beside you and wraps an arm around your waist.
“It is a beautiful piece of décor.” He agrees softly and you laugh, trying for light-hearted.
“Not quite casual art though, is it?” You smirk, turning in his embrace and wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers raking gently through his hair. His lips press to yours hard, the kiss feeling almost like a goodbye and you can feel an ache in your chest, even as you kiss him back. Maybe you’re being paranoid. Maybe it’s nothing.
“Then look at me.” He orders and you steel yourself, making your expression cold and your shoulders rigid.
“I’m giving up on you.” You whisper, meeting his eyes without feeling and he glances away. The sight nearly cracks through the ice you’ve wrapped your heart in, but you hold fast. “Anywhere I would’ve followed you, I love you. I loved you. But it’s the kiss of death to care for you, no matter how hard I tried, the moment I realized I loved you, it was the end.”
“Y/N.”
“And I can’t- I can’t continue like this, so I’m letting you go. I’m okay with this.” You finish, the words vehement and filled with a heat you’re nearly choking on.
“I love you, but-”
“Don’t say it!” You shout, twisting away harshly and pressing your fists to your eyes. Swallowing hard, you turn back to him and feel yourself wither. “Can’t this just be a clean break? I need a clean break, Erik.”
You watch him hide the box, catching yourself half a moment before barging into the room to see him slide the small velvet box inside his sock. Biting hard on your lip, you shove through the doorway and beam at him.
“Take me out tonight.” You demand and he chuckles, sliding the drawer closed casually, but you can see the way his hands linger on it almost nervously.
“Where would you like to go?” He asks warmly, pulling you toward him by your hips and you hum happily, running your thumb over his jaw and playing at thinking. “I don’t have to be Charles to read your mind, Y/N.”
You laugh softly, letting him pull you tight against his chest, feeling him hold you in the hug for a moment before he kisses you gently, lovingly.
“Then take me out.” You whisper against his lips and you feel him smile, warm and carefree.
“Of course.”
Inhaling a soft breath, your eyes move to the small black box one more time, resting where it’d been carelessly thrown against the pillows.
“Sometimes I really do think you’re crazy.” You mutter, tearing your gaze from the box and shoving past him, stalking for the door.
Summary: Erik Lehnsherr x mutant!fe!Reader -> When a mountain of stress starts to affect your mutant abilities, Erik helps calm you down.
Disclaimer: dislike to lovers, co-workers, reader is stressed from grad-life and work, Erik helps/takes care of reader, hand bandaging scene, uncontrollable powers, developing feelings.
Something you never thought was possible, though entirely plausible, was mutant sickness.
A cold, a fever, infections – all of them, on a different level, are able to disrupt a mutant’s control of their powers. At least, until it passes. Except, yours wasn’t.
It had started off small: a head cold.
With a sneeze, books would fly off the shelves in the library, or a flower would bloom quickly and then, just as fast, die. A cough would make the glass of water by your bedside bubble.
“You need to get some rest,” Charles told you.
Sniffling as you continued to read over the thesis you’d printed out, you shook your head. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sick,” Erik pointed out.
“I’m fine,” you pressed, glaring at him a little and turning the pages.
Charles looked to Erik for a moment, a worried and puzzled look on his face. Meanwhile, Erik just shrugged.
“Will you please,” Charles turned back to look at you. “Just get some rest. Even if it's just for tonight?”
You sighed, re-reading the starting sentence for the fifth time until it was pulled away from you.
“Charles is right,” Erik told you. “Go to bed.”
You scoffed a little. “Surprised you even care.”
“I don’t,” he replied, quickly. “But if you comply, it gets him out of my head.”
You looked at Xavier as you scooted out of the make-shift kitchen booth. “You can talk openly, you know.”
“I’m just worried about you, is all.”
You hummed, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge as you passed. “Fine. But just for tonight. I’ve still got assignments due-”
“Assignments can wait,” Xavier told you, ushering you out of the kitchen. “You're sick and you need rest.”
In all honesty, the rest did help. In the morning you felt like your lungs could breathe again, and your head wasn’t as heavy. But the head cold was just the tip of the iceberg.
Over the following months, small things began to crop up.
When you were stressed, feeling as if you’d forgotten every word within the English language, you’d close your laptop with a slight bang. In turn, the books on your shelf would topple over.
A random sneeze shook plant pots that were resting on the window cill. If you got spooked, a small ball of fire would shoot out and catch something alight.
In the mornings when you couldn’t sleep, you would go on a run to try and clear your head. Only, as you did so, other thoughts came to the surface and storm clouds started to follow you.
Even in your calmest moments, when you finally did take a break from work, teaching and studying, other things would happen. Your veins would glow different colours; purples, reds, streaks of pearl…
You would excuse yourself, quickly, to grab a jacket to cover it up. It wasn’t like it happened every day, or so often that you thought you needed to worry about something changing.
But it was also a new development.
Which, for as much as you tried to hide it, someone had noticed.
“I thought you said you were too warm,” Erik said, standing by your doorway.
Inside, you were sitting at your desk, again. With your veins suddenly becoming a one-mutant Broadway show, you’d grabbed your jacket from the foot of your bed and threw it on.
“I-I was. But then I got cold.”
Erik just hummed before placing a glass down on your desk. “What’s this?” you asked.
“Iced hot chocolate. One of the kids made a batch and thought you’d like some.”
You took the glass with caution. Recently, when you hadn’t been concentrating, any glass had shattered in your hand.
“It’s not poisoned,” Erik told you. “We might not be the best of friends, but even I am not that bad.”
A small, if a little forced, chuckle left you. Before you could raise the glass to your lips, however, it smashed in your hand.
“Oh!” Looking down, the cold milk was starting to soak into your carpet. “Shit.”
Racing to find a towel from your hamper, you tried to soak it all up before it caused too much damage. And Erik helped you.
“Show me your hand.”
“My hand’s fine, Erik.”
He shook his head. “There’s a trail of blood. Show me your hand.”
Most of the milk seemed to be soaked up, so pausing for a moment, you showed him your hand. “See, it’s not– oh.”
Erik gave you a poignant look. “Told you. Here, let me–”
You pulled your hand away, quickly, but he caught you by the wrist. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice soft.
You held his gaze for a moment, unsure of how to explain yourself. With so many mishaps, you’d decided to stay away from most people when it came to any kind of physical affection.
If a glass could break in your hand when you weren’t concentrating, what would happen if you were hugging someone and hurt them unintentionally?
“And you’re not going to hurt me,” he added.
You looked at him, shocked, but ultimately let him pull your hand closer.
“How long has this been happening?” He asked after a few moments.
“Not long.”
He looked at you for a real answer. You sighed, “A couple months, maybe.”
Erik just nodded, cleaning the small cuts in your hand with the tools from your own first aid kit you kept inside your desk.
“Has it ever happened before?”
You shook your head. “No. Well, the glass breaking isn’t the first but…before my cold a couple months ago, I had everything under control. Now, I’m accidently setting things on fire, or throwing things across a room without meaning to, or–”
“Smashing glasses.”
You nodded. “Or smashing glasses.”
“Have you spoken to Charles?”
“No. I-I didn’t want to worry him. He’s already done so much for me and I’m only a couple months away from finishing. I’m sure by the time I’m graduating, everything will be fine.”
“I think you should talk to him.”
“No.”
“Y/n-”
“Erik,” you sighed. “Xavier has helped me not only find a home and a job here, but also a future outside of it, as well. I don’t want to jeopardise that because…because a couple mishaps are getting in the way.”
“And what if they grow bigger? What if you end up hurting someone other than yourself?”
That was one of your biggest fears. But, so far, everything had been under control. And you felt fine. A little tired from time to time, but writing and proving a thesis tended to do that to a person. There was no reason to raise an alarm.
“You need to talk to Charles,” Erik almost pleaded with you. “Even if it’s nothing.”
With a swallow, you nodded. “Okay.”
Three days later, you were laying on an examination table with both Charles and Erik beside you, watching the monitor with Hank.
“What is it?” You asked when they all suddenly drew quiet. “What?”
Xavier smiled at you. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Seriously?”
Hank nodded, “Your levels have elevated more over the last couple of months, meaning your abilities are growing.”
“All it means is that you just need to learn how to control them.”
“Can’t I find out what they are first?” You asked, a little nervous.
Previously, your mutant powers had consisted only of slight telekinetic and energy manipulation abilities. You didn’t even know what they were growing into, so how could you possibly begin to try and control them?
That question went unanswered for…a long time.
Whilst you were trying to finish off and prove your thesis before the deadline, whilst also producing three other essays for your classes due around the same time, you were subbing different classes, marking a small pile of paperwork, learning what your new abilities were whilst also trying to control them.
And on top of all of that, try and stay awake long enough to actively understand what you were doing.
“I agree with Hank,” Charles said as you collapsed onto the sofa inside the library. You’d gone for a little peace and quiet, and instead found yourself being tested with a glass, again.
“You need to learn how to control your new abilities before they control you,” Charles finished.
You sighed, forcing yourself to sit up. “Can we not just do this later? I’m really tired and my head won’t stop-”
“I agree with Y/n,” Erik spoke up. “Surely this can wait, Charles.”
Though you were looking at Erik, both thankful and puzzled, Charles just looked at his friend, puzzled.
“Erik,” he said, his voice laced in shock. “Weren’t you the one who pushed for this to happen?”
Erik nodded. That much was true. “Yes, but…how many tests can you run if something isn’t there?”
“Then maybe we can extract them. Give Y/n the space to let them out.”
“Y/n doesn’t need space, she needs rest. Yes, she needs to learn how to control them – for her safety as well as the others,” Erik sighed. “But how much can she do when she can barely stand on her own two feet?”
“Not that I don’t appreciate the back up, but why are you jumping to my defence?”
Erik turned to you. “Because somebody has to. Hank is too concerned about the numbers, Charles has too much concern about learning and you’re too concerned over what-”
Quickly, you stood. “I’m fine, Erik. It’s just a small test.”
“You need rest.”
Hank cut in. “If Y/n’s up for it, then she’s up for it. And she is, right?”
You nodded. “Yeah. What do you need me to do?”
As Hank got you to work on another one of his tests, Erik pulled Charles aside.
“She is running herself into the ground. You need to make her take a break.”
“If she says she’s fine, Erik, then she’s fine. She’d tell me-”
“No, she wouldn’t.”
Charles laughed. “Of course she would.”
“No,” Erik repeated. “She wouldn’t. She’s too fearful to disappoint you. Do you even know how many hours of sleep she’s getting? If she’s getting any at all?”
“She’s…”Charles shook his head. “Y/n’s fine. If she didn’t think she could do it-”
Erik sighed. Since starting the tests and lessons to learn how to control your new found abilities, Erik had been keeping his eye on you.
Despite the lessons, you were still doing everything else. Studying, working, learning, studying, learning, working, planning, studying, learning, working, sleeping, planning, studying, working–
It was a never ending cycle. And he was fearful that if it didn’t ease on you soon, the consequences would cost you more than your body was willing to give.
He already knew you weren’t sleeping.
Usually, he was up on a run just after dawn. Half-way around the estate, he would see you, finishing the circuit. In the mornings, before everyone else, he’d find you sitting at the kitchen table, reading over more literature for your thesis.
Too many mornings, he’d seen you work over-time and forget breakfast. So, he started making it.
For ten minutes every morning, he made you stop and eat something. It wasn’t long overall, but it was long enough for you to take a moment and just eat something.
Throughout the day, he started doing it more and more.
A sandwich or a bowl of heated left-overs would be on your desk during lunch. At dinner, when he would finally find you, he stayed with you until you had finished your dinner.
Even if he couldn’t physically send you to sleep, or to get some rest, the least he could do was to make sure you were eating something. And drinking enough so that you didn’t get rushed into the ER with kidney issues.
Erik’s fears came true only a few weeks later, and it had been when everyone least expected it.
You had handed in your final assignment, and had defended your thesis. Away from learning how to control your abilities, Xavier had been helping you practice defending your studies in front of the Board.
You had started, slowly, getting more sleep. You still woke up in the night in order to turn over, or to use the bathroom. And maybe it wasn’t REM sleep, but it was more sleep than you had been getting.
Only, one afternoon, things started to shift.
You felt it from the moment you woke up. Your dream had been cut short, and you felt groggy. It took you a few moments before you were able to register what anyone was trying to say.
You were ready to crawl back into bed, just before Hank came to get you to guide you through a new test he had created.
“Are you feeling okay?” Erik asked you as you passed him in order to step inside the chamber.
“I’m fine,” you snapped, “Let’s just get this done with.”
Inside, you could hear Xavier’s voice trying to ask you to remain calm and focus on the instructions he was going to give you. And, it worked. For a short while.
Hank hummed as he looked at his monitor. “Maybe the filter needs changing? Something’s not reading right.”
“Uh, okay. Y/n, we’re just gonna have you step out for a few moments. Hank just needs to fix something.”
You nodded. “Can I take a break?”
Hank nodded. “Just a short one. I don’t want to lose any progress we might have made.”
You sighed, but agreed. “I-I’ll be…outside.”
Erik watched you drag your feet towards the door. It was almost like your bones were made of lead as you lifted your hand to press the exit button.
“I think we should stop for today,” Erik announced. “She needs-”
“Y/n’s fine. Ah-ha!” Hank turned away from the conversation to focus on whatever he had found.
“Erik, go and get Y/n please.”
“She’s only just-”
“She’s probably in the bathroom. Please go and get her.”
Erik sighed, but followed Charles' request, with no intention to bring you back into the room. Not that he had much of a choice when two kids came running down the hallway to alert someone about what was taking place outside.
Stormy skies were gathering, and the windchimes hanging by the garden gate had stopped singing their song and instead were beating against each other.
At first, Erik thought a helicopter was coming into land because of the freak storm that was gathering. Children outside were screaming as they came running inside, narrowly avoiding the spare metal pieces, garden fence posts and other similar items dotted around the grounds within eyeline.
In the very centre of the ground, past the whipping gravel stones, was you. You were crying out in pain, in between the breaths you were trying to take. Erik couldn’t hear you, but he could see your lips moving.
Inside the expanding bubble of elements forming around you, you were panicking.
It had all happened so fast. Too fast. One moment you were leaving the testing chamber and feeling like every bone in your body was made of stone. The next, you were feeling incredibly nauseous and running for the bathroom.
It was occupied, so you ran to the nearest place you could think of. Outside.
By the bushes, you emptied your stomach which was almost empty anyway. In the space of seconds, you had gone from feeling lethargic to…clear. Not with clarity, but survival. The kind of clear you got just before you realised your body’s natural instincts were about to take over.
You’d left your jacket inside the lab with Hank, not that it would have done you any good. The lights beneath your veins were starting to burn bright. Without knowing what to do, you ran away from the house and into the middle of the empty grounds.
You didn’t know what would happen, but it didn’t feel good.
The brighter they got, the more they burned. Then, suddenly, everything was starting to get big and loud.
The wind started whipping you in the face, odd pieces of gravel from the drive nicked against your exposed skin, the sun above you felt too hot and bright, but the thunder that was gathering overhead was too dense.
All the while, you were in pain. Physical pain that you just wanted to shut off and stop. But you didn’t know how. You didn’t know if you could.
Erik shouted for everyone to get inside, just as the other teachers and X-Men made their way outside.
“Can you stop it?” Erik asked Storm.
“I can try.”
For the first time, Erik watched her struggle. “It’s not…it’s too powerful.”
“What’s going on?” Charles said, coming closer. “Oh, my– Hank, get the kids inside.”
“But-”
“Now!”
“What do we do?” Storm asked.
Erik watched as Charles tried to get into your head, but failed repeatedly.
“She’s too…there’s too much input.”
Over the wind, they heard your scream of pain.
“We can’t just leave her!” Storm shouted.
“I’m going in.”
“Erik, no!”
“She needs to be stopped, Charles! There’s a forcefield. I can feel it. I can get to her!”
“Erik! Wait! We don’t- damn it, man!”
Erik fought like his life depended on it, meanwhile Charles and Storm continued to try and help. Though, there wasn’t much any of them could do.
Whatever you were doing, whatever your power was becoming…it wasn’t something they knew about.
Between the building pain, you heard someone shout your name. But you couldn’t turn. Instead, you started rising off the ground. You felt like someone had hacked into your skin, drove in industrial fish hooks, and was pulling you by your very skin into the sky.
“No, no, no, no. Please, please, stop it. Make it stop, please.”
You were crying in pain, and you were crying in fear. All you knew was that you were in pain, everything was burning and growing brighter and louder, and that you were growing tired.
But not enough to pass out.
“Y/n! You! You have to stop!”
“I-I don’t know how!”
“Try and calm your mind!”
“I-I can’t!” Again, you cried out in pain.
Erik had managed to bracket himself to the ground, but each time he reached out to break through the forcefield you were creating, it caused you pain.
“I don’t know what’s happening.”
Erik felt his chest shake with a feeling he wasn’t used to. Fear. Not of you, but for you.
“It’s-it’s going to be okay! But I need you to relax enough to let me get closer! Let me help you!”
“I don’t know how.”
“Yes! Yes, you do! I know you don’t want to hurt me! Or anyone! So, let me help!”
You tried your best to calm your mind, but it wasn’t easy. Each time you tried to focus on a memory, or a sensation, there was something sharp that cut between it all.
“It burns, Erik! It really–”
“Hey!”
Erik watched as your head lolled to the side and snapped back up. You were moments from passing out.
“You need to stay awake! Y/n! You need to-”
Still suspended in the sky, you passed out. But everything didn’t stop. The forcefield was holding you up, the thunder gave a deep rumble loud enough to deafen anyone, and somewhere between the wind, the sudden rain and the burning heat growing around you-
There was a crack of lightning.
For a few moments, everything remained where it was. The wind paused, the rain almost froze as it fell to the ground, and you remained unconscious in the air.
Until you didn’t.
Erik watched as you fell towards the ground at an alarming speed. Running forward, he threw up his hand in order to try and slow you. Just as you nearly hit the ground, he crossed your path and gently lowered you to the damp grass.
You were out cold.
He called your name, cradling your head as you lay in between his legs, but you weren’t waking up. Placing two fingers against your neck, he found your pulse but it was thready.
“Help me! Get a gurney!” Erik’s heart was almost beating out of his chest as he checked you over.
Your skin was ice cold, the colour of your veins was dying away to its natural state, the natural colour of your lips was fading and from underneath your t-shirt, there were lines spreading across your skin.
They were deep and dark. Jet black with an outer line of ash. Had the lightning struck you?
Whatever it was, it was spreading. And fast.
“I told you she should have been resting.”
“Erik,” Charles said. “This could have happened with or without rest. None of us saw this coming.”
“I did!” He yelled. “Maybe not this, but something like it!”
“Erik.” Charles watched as a panel in the wall started to creak and bend. “Erik!”
The panel stopped.
Taking deep breaths, Erik spoke a little more calmly. “I told you she needed rest. I told you to postpone her tests until she was healthy.”
“She is healthy-”
“And yet she’s in surgery!”
“Erik! None of us saw this coming. If Y/n didn’t feel up to it, she wouldn’t have done it. Besides, you were the one-”
“Yes, I know that, Charles. But she-”
“You know, you do surprise me, Erik. Barely a year ago, you couldn’t stand being in the same room as her. She would walk in, and you would walk out. If you both ever did share a conversation, it wasn’t long before you were not-so-subtly insulting each other-”
“Things have changed!”
“You’re meaning to tell me you have feelings for Y/n?”
Erik didn’t get a chance to verbally answer, because Hank walked inside.
“Hank. How is she?”
Hank looked exhausted. “She’s stable…for now. I’ve had to put her into a medically induced coma but…”
“But what?”
Charles looked at his friend. “But what, Hank?”
“Her vitals are still active. I’m mean…they’re off the charts. I-I don’t know what the storm did to her, or what she did to cause it.”
“But she’s okay?”
Hank nodded. “For now, yes.”
Erik took off.
“Uh- Erik, you can’t go in. She’s on bed-”
Charles held out his hand to Hank. “Let him go.”
As Erik didn’t stop and disappeared down the hall, he headed straight for your infirmary room.
He stayed by your bedside for several days. In the rare times he wasn’t doing as much research as he could on the phenomenon of you, he was talking to you. Hank said it was healthy and could help you.
And in the even rarer times he was doing neither, he was watching you. Watching you breath, watching your monitor beep away steadily to let him know you were okay.
According to Hank, the deep and ashen coloured scaring across your skin all stemmed from the lightning strike that, he presumed, hit you.
When you finally woke up, the first thing you noticed was that you felt like you could breathe. There was no crushing weight on your chest, no burning sensations spreading down your arms or across your body.
You didn’t feel hypothermic, but instead…comfortable. Cosy, and safe. Even more so from the feeling of someone’s hand in yours.
Eventually opening your eyes, you were greeted with the sight of…Erik?
Slouched forward, asleep on his crossed arms, just beside your legs, he had his hand gently wrapped around your own.
For as odd as it was, it felt rather nice. Familiar. Gentle.
You didn’t know how long you had been out – something Erik would tell you when you woke him up. Or what had happened after you passed out – something else Erik would reassure you about when you woke him up.
But during the months of recovery, you started to get used to the help and company of Erik Lehnsherr. Despite your original feelings for each other, he had a strange ability to keep you grounded and calm, even in the most dire situations.
Synopsis: Not only are you reeling from finding out your boss's friend is the very man you'd spent the night with at the club, but he's sticking around. Day after day. And he fucking recognizes you. Now how are you supposed to deal with that?
Warning: explicit nsfw content, edging, orgasm control & denial, magneto's a tease, sex club stuff!, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, begging, r's got a crush & is a little jealous, "sir" used, descriptions of anxiety/shyness/insecurities/vulnerabilities, exhibitionism & voyeurism, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance, dom!magneto, gangbang stuff again, unspecified & implied age gap, sexy costume wearing, bondage, toys (vibrator, wand, nipple clamps, ballgag), clit stim, nipple stim, fingering, oral (reader receiving), mentions of drooling (bc of ballgag), slight cockwarming w/a toy, aftercare (sorta), magneto watches while instructing others as they edge you, slight concerned & caring!magneto
Word Count: 11k
A/N: I may have gotten carried away with the story that was supposed to just be a one-off. (also this was written in june, too.) Anyway, happy kinktober and I hope you like this ridiculous nonsense. Woohoo! :)
Erik was back the next day. It was bright and early in the morning when you were sitting at your desk, still reeling from what you'd yet to even hope to recover from yesterday. Haha. The man from the party wasn't just friends with your boss, but he was now working with him. On a project you couldn't even recall the details of, but one you damn well knew wasn't going to be a simple multi-day event.
Hank had already prepped you with a badge to give Erik and the notion that he might be coming and going with files, paperwork, and all sorts of important pieces just as he pleased. And you'd nodded like the good employee that you were, but holy fuck. You sat at your desk watching the door, Hank already in his office and getting to work with a meeting with a few investors over the phone, your heart pounding away in your chest.
And when you saw the door crack and the quick flash of white, you spun to click away on your computer at emails you'd already read.
Why, of all people, did it have to be him? The one time you risked it all and put yourself out there to just try and step out of your comfort zone, and it came back to bite you in the ass like this? Your leg bounced underneath your desk as you heard his commanding footsteps. And they got closer and closer and closer.
Until there was the gentle tap of two fingers on the edge of your desk, and you slowly turned to look at him. And looked at him you did–fuck. He looked good in a suit. His eyes glinted, and his smile was a sinful thing even in the bright lighting of Hank's dedicated floor. His hair was down and windswept, almost like all the long-haired people on the cover of romance novels. He'd look good as a sea-swept pirate, shirt torn, arms clinging to the one he loved….
You sucked in a low breath and tried your best to do a polite smile–like you were ignoring everything that'd happened in the privacy of that room. But when his fingers tapped again, you stole a glance at them and remembered them holding the leash, holding the back of your head…plunging inside of you and curling against your g-spot until you were climaxing over them.
Ah, fuck.
"Hank's on a call, but he should be done shortly if you'd like to sit and wait," you blurted. Forgone was your typical greeting. Who needed polite pleasantries when he'd already had his fingers inside your cunt, a collar around your neck with an attached leash, and the remote that controlled a saddle-like toy that had you gushing over it until you couldn't cum anymore.
His smile twitched wider and he tilted his head in that same amused fashion as he had that night.
"Morning to you too, (Y/N)," he said coolly. It sent a shiver down your spine in the best and worst possible way. He tapped your desk again with those two fingers while cocking a brow and glancing down at them. "You may relax. There is a reason we do not share identifying information." His words were bringing relief, but the spark in his eyes had you scooting forward on your chair while your clit ached. "What happens in the sanctity of that space remains there. It remains safe for all parties involved."
So he didn't want Hank to know either. Good.
You nodded. "That's…reassuring."
Your voice was breathy. Involuntarily. And you were quick to clear your throat to try and get it back to normal, but all it did was earn a small, almost silent laugh from Erik while you flustered under his stare.
"May I say, though," he started, voice an even softer whisper than before. And your eyes locked, Hank's voice still loud and proud as he beamed about receiving the grant yesterday. Excitement carried through the door as the call continued. "Your absence has been missed. And if it was not to your liking or if we went overboard–"
"You didn't," you said quickly. Way too quickly. Erik cocked a brow as you sat forward a little, and the corners of his mouth twitched into the smile that'd fallen with the seriousness of his voice. "I mean, I…. I'm interested in coming back. I just haven't been able to because…."
Ha. You wanted to crawl into a hole. Never in your life had you ever thought you'd be discussing this with him. Never had you thought you'd be discussing it with fucking anyone. And now you were, in the middle of your workplace, your thighs rubbing together under your desk in your flared skirt. Your hands had to fold together to keep from shaking as you spoke, and you leaned forward to whisper, like Hank would suddenly burst out to hear what the two of you were saying.
Erik kept his brow raised as he waited for a response.
"...sore," you squeaked out.
And Erik tilted his head back. The fucking smug smile he had wasn't a large one. It wasn't roguish or rakish or even something cruel. It was pride. Interest. He had little shame in letting it show as you met his gaze, and the amusement in his features had you struggling to get your mind back into work mode.
"I suppose we were not very slow and gentle with you, were we?" he mused softly.
You gushed into your underwear. It was painfully sticky and wet against you as you sat there. Your next breath burned like hot embers, but there wasn't anything you could do but sit there.
"I admit I got a little overzealous." Erik cleared his throat, eyes dropping down to where his fingers drew along your desk until they reached the metal plate with your name engraved on it. It felt something obscene and sinful as he languidly drew the tips of his fingers over the top of it. "I will remember fifteen is your limit should you decide to ever return and join us again."
Your heart pummeled away at you. He still…he was okay with you returning even then? Even when you could put names to either face? You swallowed hard, and Erik seemed to watch the movement, his eyes flicking to the column of your throat.
"I can still come back even with…." You gave a small motion towards him.
"I have faith that you will be a harsh rule follower and will not say my name or share any personal details about me." His fingers moved to your cup of pens and pencils, lazily flicking through them. "And if you are worried you might, well, we have gags we can employ."
There was a new sound in Hank's office. One you recognized. The other voices vanished while you heard footsteps and a clapping of Hank's hands. He was talking to himself as he started to move toward his door, and you instinctively sat back in your chair and reached for your mouth and keyboard.
Erik grinned as he watched you, unmoving from his spot.
"Okay," you nodded, realizing you hadn't answered him. And you clicked open an email you'd already read three times that morning. "Thank you."
"Always, my black cat," Erik mused. "It is what I do."
The door to Hank's office burst open a moment later, and you jumped. Damn your jumpiness. You gave him a small smile as he rushed to greet Erik, and then you were spared. Erik's fingers lingered for just a second as Hank led him into his office, and you caught him plucking up one of your pens from your holder. A swift movement. A smooth one that almost went unnoticed. But he'd gone out of his way to move his fingers through them like he'd wanted you to see. And it wasn't one of the many company ones you had in there. A dark purple pen you'd used for your notes was plucked up, and you would've been upset about it if it didn't look so good between his fingers. Nor if the sight of him not just taking it, but slipping it away to hide into his coat pocket as he stole another glance back at you didn't feel so mischievous. So…holy hell. Possessive in a kind of way that made you remember his hold on you when you straddled his lap. When…when he held the leash so lazily, like he knew he wouldn't have to tug you to him.
You sucked in your cheeks as the door was shut to Hank's office and hoped to fucking everything that you weren't wet enough to have ruined your bottoms. Because when you sat back and crossed your legs, you were sopping wet.
You needed fresh air.
Erik was gone after a few hours, and both he and Hank left to get lunch together. In the end, Hank came back alone. A slight blessing, except it started a new trend you hadn't even realized was beginning. When you went home that night, contemplating if you had the strength to return to the group to have a repeat of that night, you were still just a little too sore to touch yourself. So you slept without relief, nerves and shyness burying deep in your gut as you dreamt of Erik in the throne. Dreamt of his fingers tugging back the zipper over your cunt while you were straddling him, all eyes on your back as he kissed your neck and plunged his fingers into you.
You woke up past your alarm, cunt dripping and clit aching for attention.
And you rushed into work.
Thus started the trend. You got to work, you worked while you tried to take your mind off the endless possibilities that went through it, greeted Hank when he came in, and then felt the room raise ten degrees when Erik showed up. Whether Hank was in his office, whether the door was opened or closed, whether it was just you or even you mid-conversation with another client there to see Hank, Erik always said hello.
Sometimes, it was a silent greeting with his eyes and a knowing smile. Sometimes, he came by to tap his fingers on your desk with a murmured good morning. Sometimes, he leaned against the side of your desk, towering over you, eyes down on you in whatever business casual outfit you had on that day while Hank was busy in his office. And you had small conversations then, but mostly he talked. It was usually mundane things–like the weather, like how your work was going, if you had a good evening the night prior, how he liked your top or your necklace or your bracelet. All really, really fucking mundane. And yet, every time you were near each other, every time his attention was on you, it was like sparks coming out to battle.
It was a week of that, still with your indecision on whether or not to attend another meeting, when it was really starting to chip away at you. You purposefully went to get another cup of coffee in the copier room just down the hall from Hank's office right when you knew Erik would come in. If he was coming in that day. And you damn near rushed out of there while Hank was busy with another call in his office, flattening your dress down as you slipped out the door and–
You bumped into something hard.
Warm.
Smelling like cinnamon and spice.
One strong hand went to your elbow and another held your waist. A strong grip that wouldn't have done anything to you were you not one hundred percent sure who that grip belonged to. And your knees wobbled as you peered up at him, blinking into that amused grin and feeling your hands fall onto his upper arms subconsciously. Strong. You let out a shaky breath as the door shut behind you, and it was just you and Erik in the hallway, chest to chest.
"Sorry," you sputtered, immediately taking a step back. Your head spun as you tried to not focus on how good he felt against you, how good he smelled, how fucking good it felt when he held you with a strong grasp. Like you were his. "I didn't mean to…." You laughed awkwardly and gave him a little wave. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm a little sleep-deprived. And caffeine-deprived. Um. I'm going to grab some coffee. Can I get you anything?"
You decided to look at your bracelet as you fixed it instead of meeting Erik's gaze.
"No, thank you," he said in a low whisper that made your core tighten.
"Okay. Well, you can, um, just…." You waved at the door. "Hank's just on a call. He shouldn't be long."
Without waiting for a response, you turned. You turned and practically sped down the hallway, shoving the nearby door open and putting your other hand on your forehead. Idiot. You flicked the coffee maker on, filling it with trembling hands as you contemplated just telling Hank you were feeling sick and had to go home. If you'd had your phone on you, you would've just texted him right then and there, hid in the bathroom until you were sure Erik was in Hank's office, and then would've just left without being seen.
You put both hands on the counter and leaned over it, hanging your head while you shook it. A tension went through you that was near unbearable. From the tips of your ears down to the tips of your toes. Your heels clacked on the floor as you shifted your weight around, but nothing was relieving the tension. It was strong and pulled tight, and you felt your underwear already grow damp against you. Damn it. You put your face in your hands and groaned.
Normally, you were fucking fine dealing with anyone that came in to talk with Hank.
It was significantly fucking harder to maintain that professionalism when it was Erik. When it was the guy who'd…who'd…. Fuck. You couldn't even bring yourself to think about it. Not at work. Not when you were still deliberating whether or not to go back to the group when you already knew the smartest, safest option was to just cut it loose. You couldn't go back without seeing the handsome man that plagued your dreams and thinking about Hank and work and the potential consequences and the awkwardness.
The coffee dripped into the pot as you groaned again.
You heard the door open behind you, and you went still.
"I changed my mind," Erik said smoothly, but you didn't lift your head to look at him.
You were still cringing into yourself as he walked up beside you. As he reached up to the shelf and pulled down two mugs. The ceramic clinked onto the counter, and through the cracks of your fingers, you saw him reach into a drawer he guessed on the first try to have silverware in it. Two spoons rattled into the mugs.
With absolutely nothing else to say and a burning embarrassment in your chest because of how blank your mind was, you just shook your head again and sighed.
"Sorry, I'm not great at–"
"What did I tell you about needlessly apologizing?"
Your hands lowered, and a jolt went through you as you dared a glance at him. He was pulling a packet of sugar out from a nearby stand and arranging it next to one of the mugs. He had a calm demeanor, and his movements were lazy and relaxed, but his tone had that commanding sensation to it that made your chest heave with quicker breaths.
You swallowed hard as you watched those fingers find themselves resting on the counter, idly tapping while he peered at the filling pot. The rich scent of coffee started to engulf the room.
You couldn't bring yourself to say a single damn thing.
"Do I need to remind you?" he said a moment later.
Again, you said nothing. You merely listened to your pulse thrum in your ear while Erik finally looked at you. A side eye that lingered just long enough to make your heart rate spike. And it only worsened when one hand fell from the counter before it became a warm press against your back.
It started between your shoulder blades before it gradually moved lower. It followed the curve of your back all the way down to the small dip. Then it stopped, just barely resting above your ass. Right where you felt yourself clench and press your thighs together, eyes still glued to him.
"Answer me, (Y/N)," he said lowly. "Would you care for a reminder?"
Your breath hitched. Was he…? Here? He…. That…. Holy fuck. You actually felt yourself gush into your underwear. And the longer he held your gaze, so uncaring about the growing tension, clearly well aware of the power he commandeered and held within himself, you felt yourself drifting toward a different part of you. The part of you that cared far too little about all the risks that came with his question. You could lose your job if you got caught. And anyone could walk in. Hank could walk in.
You peered back at the door, teeth biting your bottom lip.
Was it the same rules as the club? Because there wasn't a chance this meant anything else to Erik, right? It was whatever part of him enjoyed those evenings taking over with you. It was the same play, just…a riskier location.
But his hand fell away as the coffee bubbled to a stop. Wait. You jerked your eyes away from where you'd been staring at the door. And the sudden loss of his hand felt agonizing in ways you hadn't known possible.
"Wait," you blurted, watching as he reached for the pot.
He did. He stopped with his fingers just barely brushing the handle, and he quirked a brow at you. Waiting.
"Yes?"
You chewed on your bottom lip.
"Use your words, so long as they are not for another apology." He tapped the side of the handle, eyes still on you. "And I will remind you."
He held up his other hand.
"You merely just have to say it." He brought that hand up and touched his fingers to the bottom of your chin, making you hold eye contact with him. "But tick tock. I do not imagine Hank's phone call is an endless one."
He stepped forward as you faltered, your breath catching and your heart hammering. The words were too difficult to say, and it must've been all over your face before Erik curled his fingers around your chin, holding you in a manner that felt beyond possessive. You sucked in a sharp breath as he tugged you toward him, tipping your chin up in the process. All until your chest was to his, your hands were holding you up with one on the counter and the other on his arm, and you were leaning entirely into him. Guided by his touch.
"You allowed dozens of others to touch you. Play with you. Including me. And yet a room with no other eyes, no others, no toys, no leash, no latex costume, and you find yourself nervous?" His thumb swiped across your jaw. "You really are shy, aren't you?"
All you could do was nod.
But Erik had that rule. And he gave you that stern look that said he knew you remembered it. Weeks later, and he knew you did.
"Yes, sir," you muttered.
Erik's next breath was deeper. Longer. Heavier.
He tilted his head and left the coffee pot abandoned as he drew his fingers over your cheek. You shuddered. It was involuntary, but you couldn't help yourself. The touch was so soft and sweet, all you could do was sigh and let your eyes flutter shut.
"Before I implore you to return to the club tonight, I feel I ought to ask how you are feeling." His hand fell from your cheek, and in the next breath, your dress was pushed higher on your thighs. With a harsh yank, Erik had it up enough to dip his hand under and then there. The backs of his fingers drew over your cunt, and before you could stop yourself, you were pressing yourself against them. Not just a little, but you whined and rolled your hips as they brushed your clit again and again. "Ah, not sore anymore, are we?"
"No, sir," you stuttered, shaking your head a little frantically.
"Good." He slowly started to run circles over your clit with his thumb. "Then my original point stands–return tonight. And we will train that pretty mouth to never say the word sorry again." He tugged your underwear aside without warning, and you took two fingers with ease, feeling them stretch you as he pumped them into you. The sounds were squelching and vulgar in the otherwise dead-silent room. "Do not touch yourself before tonight. I want you to sit like this all day. I want you to know what coming to me does to you. How badly you want it."
He plunged his fingers in a little harder. A little faster. You were wrinkling his jacket with how both hands found it and clung to it. You panted against his shoulder, trying to silence your moans as you were pushed up to the tips of your toes as he finger fucked you.
"I want you to realize that all that sweet shyness has no hold on you when others come to touch you. Taste you. Tease you. Fuck you." He curled his fingers, and your knees buckled. You felt his mouth press against your ear as his fingers stalled inside you, keeping you hooked like a fish on the line as you clung to him. "Will you return tonight, my black cat?"
"Yes." You nodded frantically. "Yes, sir. I will. I will."
Erik's chest vibrated with a satisfied sigh.
"Ah, you get so eager with the promise of pleasure."
He pulled his fingers out, making sure to run them not just over your cunt, but against your thighs. Where he wiped them clean, leaving them sticky and messy before his hand was out from your skirt. And with a wipe of his fingers on a handkerchief from his jacket, his hands were off of you, and he was reaching for the coffee pot with his clean hand.
He poured you a cup before emptying a packet of sugar into his, stirring it as he moved from the counter and toward the door.
"I hope you do not mind if I borrow some of your hand sanitizer on your desk. It would be unbecoming of me to spend my meeting with Hank with my fingers so dirty." He glanced back as he carefully opened the door, the two fingers raised off of the handle. "Especially since you seem so nervous about your boss knowing how eager you are to take them."
He gave you a smug smile before nudging the door open.
"I hope to see you tonight, (Y/N)."
Then, in the silence of your beating heart and your staggering breaths, he was out the door. And you were left standing alone, cunt fluttering around nothing, thighs wet and sticky, coffee swirling in the air. Stuck aching. Stuck wanting.
You hardly had a schedule to clear, and you had your phone out to email the HR equivalent of the club that you'd be returning that evening if there was an opening as you walked back to your desk. Underwear righted awkwardly, your bottle of hand sanitizer pointedly moved to the edge of your desk, and tapping send on the email, you sank down–wet and wanting–as you glanced at Hank's cracked door.
He and Erik were already in full swing with their conversation, and you felt the thrill mix with the anxious nerves crawling through you. Even just catching Erik taking a sip of his coffee, a flash of the fingers that'd been inside of you was a distraction. Not compartmentalizing the moment was making it worse. One little drift back to his fingers plunging into you was almost worse than thinking back to the night in the club. Or…maybe not.
But where Hank–or any other person in desperate need of a copier–could catch you, where you fucking worked…? You crossed and uncrossed your legs, taking calls, setting meetings, checking emails, going over project guidelines, reviews, and answering inquiries. All until Erik eventually left, refusing to leave his mug down on your desk when you offered to take it.
"I believe I can find the room," he mused to both you and Hank. Your heart hammered harder. "And I believe it would be uncouth of me to leave something dirty behind. I will see you tomorrow, Hank. (Y/N)."
You held your breath for his entire departure. You held it as he vanished from the room. And you held it as Hank scratched the back of his head and gave the spot Erik had once been a lopsided smile before looking at you, either unaware of your tensed status or just graciously ignoring it.
"Would you care for some lunch, my friend?"
You finally had to breathe, and it came out a little rocky, but you forced a smile and nodded at Hank. Lunch meant leaving the office in the current state you were in, but…. You checked your phone again–nervously and frantically–as Hank disappeared to grab his jacket from his office. There was already a response from the club's invitation and organizer.
A spot is available. See you tonight. 10 P.M. Same location.
A costume will be provided for you.
And you had to go about the rest of your day thinking about that. Living with that. Getting through lunch, a few meetings where you assisted Hank, more calls, more emails, more everything while you thought about what was in store for the evening. While you tried to both completely ignore and try to face the fact that you…wanted to go again. Wanted to do all of that with all of them. With…Erik.
Oh, god. How were you going to look him in the eye?
You had no chance of even hoping to look at him without seeing him in Hank's office. You already couldn't separate the opposite; now you had to go to the club and not see him as the powerful, commanding man who commandeered your boss's time every morning for hours to talk about a project that was so secretive, you weren't allowed to know even the smallest detail. And then you were going back….
Oh, god. Oh, fuck.
You sat outside the club, hands tight on your steering wheel, eyes watching others go into the door where you were supposed to go. The clock was ticking closer, and there was a point where you'd miss the costumes, the repetition of the rules, and all the important details. But…. But your stomach twisted with unease and excitement. Desire to feel what you'd been denying yourself for what felt like ages, except this time, you knew what lay beyond the door. And you still wanted it. Wanted him.
You turned your car off, but couldn't reach for the door. Closed your eyes as you put your hand on the handle, but couldn't open it. Took a deep breath but couldn't calm your nerves. You checked the time again, and the doors would be closing in a minute.
What were you going to do? Drive home, fuck yourself on your fingers while pretending they were Eriks, and tell him tomorrow you weren't going to come back to the club? That you were appreciative of the fun, of the unique experience, of…him, but mixing it with work was far too risky? That you would see him later, and if he required any assistance, he merely just had to ask? That you'd appreciate if he merely forgot that you'd attended that night?
Or were you going to go in there and let him teach you how to never say sorry again without a single goddamn clue what he had in store for you while dozens of others watched and joined in on the fun? All in a costume you'd yet to be given and a mask that hadn't done anything to keep your identity a secret?
You pressed your forehead against the steering wheel.
Damn it.
You threw the car door open and slipped out.
You nearly tripped over yourself getting inside and stumbled through your words while checking in. Then, a costume was handed to you, and you were changing with the rest before another sticker was slapped to your back. And as your body burned with anticipation and unyielding nerves, you were brought in a line down the hallway to that door. And then you were out in the room, dressed in a short, sheer, tulle skirt that hardly covered the g-string they'd given you to wear with it. A cheap corset that came together with a zipper at the back clung a little too tightly to your upper body. Both all black. Paired with some fishnet tights, a black mask that covered the top half of your face, and a little witches hat that sat on a headband.
Your body rattled with your next breath. You were there. And…and there came the footsteps behind you. In the darkness. Where you could turn around. And you kept your eyes forward as the rules were read by someone you couldn't see, and the foreboding footsteps got closer. Closer. Closer.
A warm drag of rough, familiar fingers went over your back with a possessive touch. You might've jumped, but it was a small movement. And you didn't turn to make sure it was Erik. You could smell that cinnamon and spice aftershave he wore. The reach of his hand to gently stroke over your jaw was an unexpected feeling, yet…as much as it soothed, you were left burning with nerves.
He continued down the line with you being the only one who'd jumped from his touch.
And when the lights were flicked on?
You blinked to adjust, and there were a few more people there than last time it seemed. Some faces familiar. You recognized the woman who'd played with you last time over on the other side of the room. But your eyes weren't there for long. There was movement to your left, bringing your gaze across the sea of people there, across the same collection of surfaces to use, toys to take, and ropes to bind. Until you saw two people approach Erik.
He stood beside a pair of dangling velcro cuffs that the sight alone made your heart hammer. But the two people got closer, and nerves got stronger. What if someone else went to him? You were supposed to choose where you went, and then people either went up to you or…. You locked eyes with Erik, and his never left as he held up a hand to them and waved you over with a curl of his fingers.
You eyed the cuffs once more before getting wobbly, unsteady legs to move. Curious eyes were thrown your way–especially by the two rejected–as you approached him. Dressed in the same outfit you'd seen that morning, it really wasn't helping you compartmentalize everything. You made it to the spot directly in front of him and almost fucking called him by his name.
Nerves would be the death of you.
You bit your tongue and merely smiled up at him.
"Glad to see you could make it," he mused. One of his hands rose, and there it was on your chin. He tilted up with a light touch, bringing you the last step forward until you were chest to chest. By your side, your hands fiddled with your skirt. They needed something to do. Needed something to fidget with. "Would you be kind enough to repeat your word for me?"
His fingers trailed down over the column of your throat. Your breath hitched before he even got to the top of your breasts.
"Pluto." You swallowed hard. "It's Pluto, sir."
His mouth curved into a smirk. A really addicting smirk. A smirk with that demanding presence could make just about anyone do anything. Fuck. You sighed as he leaned in, that smirk brushing against your ear.
"Can I trust you to be ever careful about saying my name?" The entirety of his hand wrapped around your throat. Not exactly a threat, not exactly a sign of relief. Closer to…a warning. "Be honest."
You shook your head. No extra thought needed. If the risk was even half a percentage, it was still a risk. You couldn't do that to him or you.
"No," you quickly added. "No, I…I don't think the risk is worth it. I'm nervous, and when I get nervous, um, sometimes I…." You sighed. "I get flustered."
Erik's soft laugh came out on his exhale. With a gentle squeeze of your throat, he started to walk you back. A slight turn, a little movement to the right, and then you were beneath a spotlight. The cuffs dangled high above you.
"Then we will simply prepare better." He drew his thumb over your bottom lip as he pulled back, letting you see his grin. "Now, lift your arms."
You were on the balls of your feet when Erik buckled you into the cuffs. Your arms were stuck straight up with only a slight pull in your shoulders, and a dozen others watched as he circled you like a predator. Your breaths came too fast, but the drag of his hand over your waist was almost calming. There was a soft noise you couldn't see the origin of, and when you felt his chest press against your back, you knew something was coming.
One hand pressed against the sides of your jaw, guiding and almost forcing your mouth to open. You followed the instructions, parting your lips and moving your arms just enough to maneuver a strap around your head. Because in came a small red plastic ball, and then came deft movements with Erik's fingers as it buckled it tight around your head.
Too late came the realization that you might end up drooling around the gag, and a new level of mortification hit you as Erik walked around you, taking a look at you practically dangling there. Gagged, hardly covered, and already taking deep breaths that tested the restriction of the top.
He held out one hand, and someone slipped a little remote into it. One button was on it, and there was a strap that went around a wrist. He held it up as he walked back up to you, fingers tipping your chin so you looked at him. So he knew you were listening. And he held it up between you.
"This is the equivalent of your word." He pressed the button and a little chirping noise echoed from a speaker on the other side of it. "You reach your limit, we do something you do not enjoy, or you simply need a break…press it."
He tapped the bottom of your chin once. Then he was reaching up to slip the remote into your hand and the strap around your wrist, tightening it into place.
"Ready?" he whispered beside your ear.
You nodded and muffled out the closest thing to a yes that you could.
"Good."
He walked around you until he was at your back. Then, all you could see were those watching. Some more dressed than others. Some already touching themselves over their clothes. And there was a soft click behind you right where you felt Erik press against you.
Then there was a loud whirring.
A familiar whirring.
"Because I intend to test a different limit with you tonight." You jolted as the harsh vibrations of the wand were dragged over your sides and down to the curve of your ass. One of his feet with a jerking nudge was all it took to get your legs parted, and the vibrations went to your inner thighs. His mouth grazed your ear again as he reached around you and brought his hand to your throat again. "Perhaps if I do not let you cum, you will have a much more memorable lesson."
The head of the wand pressed against your cunt, and you gasped behind the gag. The toy was strong and unrelenting, pressing right against your clit as Erik held you still. You felt your breaths limited by the top of the costume, making them come quicker and almost choked, and those watching seemed to thoroughly enjoy the sight. They grinned and even laughed a little; some palmed themselves through their pants a little harder.
Your hips moved on their own, grinding against the toy even with his words in your ear. He didn't stop you. He didn't tighten his grip on your throat. He merely stood behind you, holding you against him, even wiggling the wand a little against your clit as you whined into that damn gag.
And just as you started to pull on the restraints…the toy fell just a few inches down. Where you could feel it on your thighs but too far away to bring your cunt down to it.
Without warning, the toy went back up. The strong vibrations were back, torturing your clit as you rode it like you even had to hope of getting the extra waves of pleasure that you knew you wouldn't. And yet, somehow, you were still surprised when he lowered the toy just as you started to whimper, every wave of pleasure starting to come stronger and stronger.
You shut your eyes when he brought it back up. And the second they closed, the toy was gone.
"Watch," he commanded, and he went from your throat to your chin. He jerked it down and turned you to look at everyone there. "Look at all of those who watch you. Who want you." He brought the wand back up and pressed it hard against your clit. "Do not shy away from what you are merely embarrassed about enjoying."
Your next sound was a sad whimper. The way the wand went at your clit was pushing you to the brink already. And having to face that while looking at everyone there–so many fucking people. They'd watched Erik finger you last time. They'd watched a stranger press a plug into you. They'd reached out and played with that plug. Fucked you with it. Stood around you as Erik had you sit on that saddle until it was soaking wet with climax after climax. As they watched your clit get licked and they came and licked, sucked, tweaked, and toyed with your nipples.
Your knees buckled as your climax reared its ugly head, and you hung yours. You moaned and bucked your hips, but you knew it was coming. Just as your legs tried to close, Erik dropped the wand away from you. He stepped away from you, letting you dangle there alone as he moved around you. Until he was in front of you. Until the pleasure crept down just enough as you began to tremble from it, and he forced you to meet his gaze before the wand was right back on your clit.
"I will show you all the fun you can have if you merely allow yourself the chance," he murmured.
And down went the toy as your eyes clamped shut and your orgasm threatened to spill over. It was handed off to someone else. And then you realized others already had similar toys. And…and Erik's throne was there. And he was gracefully sitting down in it, directly in front of you, eyes glued to you as yours were to his.
"She does not cum until I say so," he stated plainly. Like a damn threat. "Any of you make her, and you are banned."
He lifted a hand, and after a moment's pause, as your heart reached a rate you'd never felt before and your nerves skyrocketed, there was movement.
And Erik's amused, sinful look was almost a comforting one as two people approached you. One who stood behind you, reaching for the zipper on your corset. You felt that sudden shyness as it was tugged down over your spine. That shyness multiplied when the stiff material just…fell away. It was a sad sound as it hit the floor, and suddenly you were bare. Very bare. More bare than you'd been last time, and Erik was…eating it up. The look of hunger on his face was more exhilarating than anything he could've done in response to that.
You were honed in on it just until two hands came around as a woman pressed herself against your back. A kiss went to your shoulder as her hands went directly to your breasts. The other person who'd joined her knelt in front of you, her hands rubbing over your thighs and creating a strange sensation with the fishnets under them. Your nipples were tweaked playfully while a pair of scissors didn't just cut open the crotch of the tights, but you held as still as you could with someone pinching your nipples as she cut the g-string away. Entirely.
And as the damp fabric fell away, she pulled on a pair of black latex gloves, and down went your skirt. It was tossed aside with a flick of her wrist in a rather ceremonious way. The tulle made an awkward sound against the hard floor, and you honed in on it too much. You looked between her and Erik while the other woman rolled your nipples between her fingers. And the one on the floor….
You did your best to keep your eyes open, but as her fingers came up and parted your cunt, your eyes closed. So many people were looking at you. So many people saw how wet you were. So many people saw how much you enjoyed it. Fucking Erik saw. Erik knew.
"Aw, look at how swollen her clit already is," the woman on the floor mewled.
She brought a single finger up to it and gently started to circle it. Light pressure, but enough after having the wand go at it. And your hips bucked. Oh, god. You felt yourself involuntarily press back into the woman behind you, your nipples over and already getting overstimulated from all the contrast touch. But you didn't press the button.
Not even when you felt the woman reach down to hold one of your legs up to keep you spread. To really show you off. And not even when she used her free hand to keep playing with your nipples while the one on the floor pressed two fingers into your cunt and lapped her tongue at your clit.
The only sounds you knew how to make were some combination of whines, choked moans, and gasps. They were muffled against the gag, but they still escaped. And they joined the rest of the vulgar sounds echoing in the den of sin that you'd found yourself in. They got worse the longer the two women played with you. Touching, tweaking, fingering, flicking, licking.
"Nuh-uh," the one said over your cunt as your walls fluttered around her fingers. That was the third time she'd brought you far too close to the edge. You were holding your orgasm back yourself, worried that one little breath from her as her mouth hovered over your clit would send you over the edge. She flicked your clit with her tongue again. "Boss said no orgasm for you, sweetie."
Boss?
Your teeth closed down around the gag until your jaw started to hurt. And cracking your eyes open, you saw Erik doing the exact same thing he'd been doing the whole time. Just watching. Nobody touched him. Nobody went up to him unless they were beckoned by him. And he just held a glass of some dark liquor that he sipped on, his cock obviously hard in his slacks, eyes glued to you.
And he waved a hand then.
But not to spare you the torment of denial.
The people swapped.
And you started to get real nervous when four people came up to you. All with different toys. You gave Erik a scared look–or one you'd hoped accurately revealed your nerves–and your thumb hovered over the button, but it remained unpressed. And Erik remained seated. Just watching.
He tilted his head as one of the four connected clamps to your nipples, hooking a finger around the chin and giving it gentle tugs as you adjusted to the new pinching sensation. They were already so damn sensitive, you almost screamed at the feeling. And those gentle little tugs continued as someone came around you and held you up by both legs, more of your weight going to your wrists, but still comfortable enough.
You should've told Erik you'd never done anything like what was happening before. You should've told him that it was a drastic desire to simply try something instead of being stuck in an endless rut. Of being without touch for so fucking long. You should've told him there wasn't any experimental increase–you'd just jumped right into the deep end. And you sucked in a nervous breath as your legs were kept spread and up, and the other two people came over with toys. A wand and a vibrator.
You closed your eyes and dropped your head back, thumb hovering over the button as anticipation burned in your gut. And there was a dribbling of lube even though you were certain you hadn't needed it. You heard them coat the condom-covered toy before it pressed against your entrance. And then it went in. So slowly, it went in. You stretched around it as it filled you, your body trembling at the sensation.
Then it flicked on.
And the person holding it started to thrust it into you. Not hard, not fast, but nowhere near slow and sweet. You writhed in the grasp of the person holding you, tears pricking your eyes as you dared a glance at Erik. His chest expanded with a deep, deep breath, his grip tight on his glass. It was brought up to his lips with a slow movement, his focus lingering on your cunt as you squirmed under every thrust of the toy. And you…you felt that exhilaration again. You felt your cunt flutter. You felt the toy get turned on, and you tried to shut your legs as it dragged against your g-spot.
And then the wand came down and pressed right against your clit.
"Wait," you sobbed behind the gag, barely a coherent word, but the wand was lifted, and the vibrator was pulled out.
And you trembled as you felt your orgasm suddenly there, suddenly about to burst, suddenly about to rip through you. Your toes curled as you staved it off as best as you could. You were a sweaty mess already, but you felt even dirtier like that, everyone watching as you tried to be so, so good for Erik. The boss.
The boss, who was nodding at the others, looked to him, and they came right on back. Starting with the vibrator first, they pressed it back into you and held the wand off as they brought you to the edge about a handful of times with that alone. It was hard to keep track. Then just the wand, pressing it down and wiggling it on your clit with the vibrator inside you, off, left to cockwarm as your cunt fluttered around it.
It got to the point where you lost count, the person who held you was traded out for someone else, and the wand could only touch you for a few seconds before it had to be lifted. Otherwise, you'd cum. And as it happened again, your body strung out with the need to cum, the need for relief, to lose the tension pulling you by both ends and making you tremble, writhe, and pant–Erik held up his hand.
And then he stood.
He walked over with his drink topped off but only slightly touched. He only took his second or third sip of it as he came up to stand in front of you. His fingers wrapped around the chain of the nipple clamps, and he gave it a soft tug. The sensation brought a harsh whimper from your lips, and you could, unfortunately, feel the drool wetting your chin.
He pulled out a handkerchief–the same one as before–and brought an edge of it up to your mouth. He dabbed away at the corners, at your chin, and when he sat his drink down, his hand was back undoing the buckle of the gag. It was only pulled down just a bit. Just enough. And you licked your lips as you stared at his.
There were tears in your eyes that you tried to ignore. Easy to when you were one little breath on your clit away from climaxing.
He dabbed the cloth against your mouth again, and then he carefully, softly cupped your chin.
"Do you want to cum, my dear?" His thumb stroked your jaw as you merely panted in response.
He tugged on the nipple clamps again.
"Yes, sir." You felt your plea enter your expression. There was no stopping it, even if you'd wanted to pretend to try. You'd had the same pleading expression for however long he'd been edging and denying you. "More than anything."
He hummed. His fingers made a path over you, and you felt self-conscious of how sweaty and sticky you were. Your aching clit was an easy distraction, but there was a shift in focus to how Erik moved his fingers over you that was entrancing. They went along your throat, over your collarbones, down to follow the curve of your breasts, and only briefly graze where the clamps were harsh on your nipples.
Then lower. Over your stomach where it twitched and tensed. Along your ribs and your sides and down to your hips. He plucked at the tights digging into your skin until he rested his hand on your inner thigh. With someone still holding you up and your legs stuck open, all Erik had to do was glance down, and there was your cunt just for him. Spread and wet and swollen from the wand.
His fingers moved and kept you spread, pulling the hood back from your clit. That movement alone nearly did you in. You were pressing your head back and tensing as he tucked the handkerchief into his pocket, and so, so lightly brushed his fingers against your clit.
You had to physically bite back from saying his name. Instead, you let a curse push out with a throaty moan.
"Fuck."
Two fingers pressed into your cunt next.
And just as they curled against your sweet spot, your cunt tight and convulsing and dripping, they stopped. The feather-light touches on your clit didn't stop, though. You yanked hard on the restraints as you fought off the orgasm that was getting closer and closer and closer.
"Are you going to remember what we talked about?" he asked quietly. Barely a whisper. Hardly heard over the sounds of the other lewd, vulgar, sensual acts taking place around you. He added just a bit of pressure to your clit, and your toes curled. "Or do I need to prolong our lesson?"
You shook your head fucking frantically. Your chest heaved with every desperate breath to keep yourself composed and together. And you thrashed in the arms of whoever held you and against the restraints as Erik pushed you closer to your inevitable, unstoppable climax. He moved his fingers inside of you, too.
"I'll remember. I'll remember." You whined loud enough that you heard it bounce off a nearby wall. "Please. I'll remember."
He stepped closer, and the feel of his clothing against your bare skin was almost too much to bear. You whined again, teeth clenched, head back, hands balled into fists without trying to set off the remote. Your toes were still curled as you felt Erik's mouth graze over yours. His nose brushed yours, and his hair tickled your cheeks.
If you lifted your chin, you could've kissed him.
You were far too focused on not climaxing that you didn't. But it was a losing battle. A horrible, awful, unsuccessful battle. If he didn't stop, you were going to spill over the edge. If he didn't–
"Promise me, then, that I will not hear the word sorry from your lips unless it is deserved," he murmured against your mouth. Closer to a kiss, but not quite. But it was enough. You felt yourself start to melt with another pleading look, your lips parting as you gasped.
"I promise. I promise."
"I punish those who break their promises to me, my dear." He started to move his fingers faster. Those inside and those on your clit. That was your breaking point. "Now let me feel you let go."
There wasn't a pause before it happened. There wasn't a gradual increase in pleasure like normal. All the edges and denials you'd lost track of culminated into a harsh, rippling wave of torturous pleasure. It tore through you almost violently as Erik fucked you with his fingers. Hard and rough, stroking your g-spot with every thrust of his fingers. All while the on your clit gave you that last little extra stimulation that you could hardly fucking handle.
And you broke apart into a whining, gasping, moaning, cursing, wet mess in front of him. Your cunt squeezed and then convulsed around his fingers. Your clit throbbed and twitched. Your legs trembled as you tried to desperately close them, but alas, the person holding you was far too strong. And your toes curled, your back arched, and you yanked so, so fucking hard on the cuffs that you felt them dig painfully into your wrists.
And you gushed around his fingers.
To the point where ever thrust he gave you to fuck you through the overwhelming pleasure was heard with a mocking squelch.
And your thumb brought a small click before there was the chirping as you came down from the high, his fingers still in you, all the eyes still on you, some with their bottoms off and hands bringing themselves to their own climaxes as they watched yours. Some even looked like they were going to walk up and spill on you, but the immediate harsh look Erik gave them didn't just stop them; it sent them back twice as many steps as they'd taken to get to you.
"Set her down gently," he said in that commanding tone, and his hands left your cunt. One arm wrapped around you as he used the other to reach up. The cuffs gave way with ease. He caught you as you slumped against him, subconsciously burying your face into the crook of his neck before you could stop yourself.
Almost…shielding yourself as you caught your breath. Fucked out, edged more than you ever had been before, naked, sweaty, and vulnerable. You were trapped somewhere in between insecurity and pure exhilaration at the event. Of him. Of all the others who'd come to touch you, tease you.
You gasped as he slid a hand between you, and the release of the clamps had you wincing.
His hand was a flat press against your back as you stood there, so very aware of how naked and messy you were, just…standing in Erik's arms. Aware of the eyes still on you. Aware that you were surely the only person doing something like that in that entire room.
"My dear, you did well," he whispered next to your ear. His lips grazed it, and your knees became weaker. "You made it to forty. Far more than I thought you would endure." His hand twitched on your back when you nodded once. "No more for tonight. That is all our lesson is composed of."
But part of you…. All the insecurities, anxieties, and vulnerabilities eating away at you aside, you…you liked it. You liked him sitting back and watching you while others came at you. You liked the pride and the amusement and the hunger in his eyes as he watched you. You…you liked the others watching as well. Touching. Tasting. Teasing.
You were just so exhausted. So tired. Pushed past a breaking point you hadn't experimented with before, you couldn't do much else besides nod your head and lean on Erik for support.
He shrugged, and off came his coat. It came around you in a scent of cinnamon, spice, and a bit of sin as he hugged it around your shoulders.
"Come." He pulled back and gave your chin a tap. "I will see you to the showers."
And you earned more than just a few curious looks as Erik walked with you, a hand on your back as he led you to the side door. A few helpers came up to take you off his hands, but he simply waved them off, and they listened immediately. The boss, huh?
He held the door to let you go through first, and you half expected him to leave it at that.
Nope. He followed you in. He followed you all the way back to the showers, rolling up one of his sleeves while you leaned against a set of lockers. And then the handle turned, and the water burst through the shower head.
"They called you the boss," you said, breaking the silence that sat somewhere perfectly in the center of unbearable and comfortable.
Erik peered back at you with raised brows. Then came the closing of the gap between you, and suddenly, he was in front of you, taking the remote from your wrist that'd been left hanging there. He stopped when he saw the indentations of the cuffs on your wrists, and his thumbs ran over them in a way that was beyond tender. Much more than you were expecting, given the circumstances. It sent a rudely warm shiver down your spine.
"They did." He lifted his eyes to yours. Then, he reached up and guided you toward the shower, taking his jacket back in the process. "I own the club."
Oh. You staggered. That….
You peered back at him.
"Hank is aware, yes," he said as you stared at him. "Personally, I believe that is why he finds so much enjoyment in setting our daily meetings so early. Since he knows how late my nights typically run."
Oh. Double oh. He ran the club, which meant he was there every night. With dozens of other people. People like you. People that he did that with. Oh. Maybe you weren't cut out for anything like this. One little modicum of attention from someone, and there was jealousy you had no right to feel.
You sucked in a nervous breath as you stepped back into the water that wasn't warm enough yet, and you jumped. Damn it. You stepped back out of it and started to shiver. He'd already seen you naked. He'd already spent the evening edging you. Yet you still covered yourself with your arms as Erik looked at you.
And then his brows furrowed slightly.
"Your application said you were new to this club," he said softly. He drew his eyes over where you attempted to cover yourself as goosebumps rose, and you shivered again. "What others were you partaking in before mine?"
Ha. Yeah. Nope. You turned and faced the now lukewarm water, reaching behind you to jerk the curtain shut immediately. But it didn't feel like enough because you could still feel Erik there. Waiting. God. He commanded even an empty locker room without even trying.
"A lady never tells," you said as smoothly as you could. "Why? Is this your way of telling me I should stick with those?"
There was a pause where dread hit in because wait, was he actually? Was he going to tell you that you weren't actually a good fit? Had you fucked something up?
"Name one."
You reached for the provided body wash and stopped. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably.
"You know, you joked about those early morning meetings with Hank, and you do know I have to be there before you, right? I need all the sleep I can get, which means I can't linger–"
"(Y/N), tell me the name of one of the clubs." You heard him step forward, and his voice had a dangerous edge to it that made your heart skip. "Or do you not even know one?"
You just stood under the water, staring down at the body wash, biting your lip.
"I said on my application that I was a first-timer," you muttered.
And then…there was silence. Brutal silence. The kind that came with a heavy overlay that felt like it was keeping you still inside the shower. That made the falling water pelt your skin. That made Erik's loud sigh feel like a gut-punch.
"Erik?" you asked softly, and despite the last thing you'd wanted to do was look him in the eye, you turned and curled your fingers around the shower curtain.
He was still there. Standing in front of the curtain, one hand over his hand face, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, his brows furrowed. He looked up the second you looked out, and his hand fell, showing a harsh frown that made you swallow hard.
"You should have told me your first night. You should've told the organizers. You…." His frown got a little deeper. "I knew you were new, but I would not have pushed you so hard then or tonight if I had known just how new."
But…he still would've played with you. He still wanted you. Not the right take away, you were aware of that, but it still did something in your stomach knowing that there was concern and care there. Even if it only went as deep as you being one of his patrons, it still was a sweet sentiment that made your stomach flutter.
"I enjoyed it," you said quietly.
"Yes." Oh, there was a smile again. An amused and knowing smile. "I am well aware that you did." He let out another deep breath as he drew his eyes over you. "You did exceptionally well then. Both nights."
His expression became semi-stern, and you felt your stomach twist again.
"Do not lie to me again, (Y/N). You will not be fond of the consequences," he said almost menacingly.
The internal reaction you had to it was a silent betrayal of your morals. You ignored it as he stepped toward you, and his fingers skated over your jaw. His thumb…caught your bottom lip and tugged it down.
"Understand?"
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry."
His mouth curved into a smirk.
"Good." He pinched your chin and stepped back, already heading toward the exit. "Do not wear underwear tomorrow, and you will make it up to me."
What?
You poked your head out further, and you could fucking feel his grin.
"That was an applicable time to apologize," you shouted. It was. You'd lied to him–there wasn't a chance in hell he would get made about an apology over that. The panic in your voice was a tad humiliating, though.
"It was. It is for lying to me when you had more than an ample amount of opportunity to tell me." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Make it up to me tomorrow by wearing a pretty dress and no underwear. And perhaps I'll forgive you." He dropped his eyes down to where your legs were pressing together behind the curtain. "I would ask how you take your coffee, but I would prefer to share a cup with you there. I will be sure to arrive early to allow for it, and we can see how badly you wish to rectify this."
His smirk sent a jolt through you that washed away any of that lingering guilt, and you felt yourself involuntarily melt. The fact that he was going back out into the room, the fact that he hadn't fucked you–although nobody had yet–and then the fact that he spent presumably multiple nights a week there grounded you immediately. But that glint in his eye when he looked at you, the smirk that made your stomach flutter.
You nodded.
"Yes, sir," you murmured, voice hoarse. "Enjoy your evening. I'll see you tomorrow, Erik."
"Mmm. We'll see how the evening goes," he mused, disappearing around the lockers. "The most interesting player is leaving. I imagine it will be a boring night for me." You felt your heart skip a beat in the momentary silence that followed. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."
"Night, Erik."
And you felt the water go scorching as the door to the locker room opened and shut.
Your heart slammed against your chest underneath the pelting water. Your cheeks burned, and your head spun. A fluttering in your cunt shouldn't have been there, yet it was. It was joined by your stomach and your heart.
You licked your lips and tasted the liquor he'd been drinking. The slightest lingering taste.
You already knew what dress you were going to wear tomorrow.
You just…hoped and prayed that Hank wouldn't mind you being seated for the entire day. Because–holy fuck. A small laugh snuck out of you as you fell back against the wall that divided your shower from the neighboring one.
You were going to work tomorrow without underwear on.
Synopsis: When Erik asks you to show up to work without underwear, you show up to work without underwear...and a few more complicated feelings toward him.
Warning: nsfw content, semi-public foreplay (at work), dirty talk, dirty thoughts, dom/sub dynamics, "sir" used, spanking, clit stim, fingering, one (1) orgasm denial & edge; controlling & jealous!magneto, reader x OC, flirting, internal panic & anxiety descriptions, shy!reader, reader has a bit of a crush on moooore than just magneto
Word Count: 9k
A/N: Not the kinkiest part, but I was just having fun writing this series and wanted to post it during Kinktober anyway :) Enjoy!!
Okay.
So, Erik knew you weren't exactly…experienced with the very activities his club provided. His club. That was also a fact that you had to process. You were getting personal attention from the club's owner. That…okay.
O-fucking-kay.
You had to start compartmentalizing better.
No, seriously. You were going into work in one of your longer work-appropriate dresses with the intention of taking your underwear off just before Erik got there. He wanted you without underwear–fine. But you had to play it safe. It was your livelihood at stake. You couldn't risk flashing your boss just because Erik was using some teasing torment to have you apologize.
If you'd actually stopped to think about it, you might've ignored the tantalizing thrill it gave you, and you would've realized how foolish you were being. But you weren't stopping. You hadn't stopped thinking about anything but the entire evening as a whole since you'd left that night prior. Every little damn that made your head spin. Every goddamn moment with Erik. Him watching, the taste of liquor on your lips that was the closest thing you'd get as a kiss from him.
Fuck.
You slipped into work in the black dress, the skirt tight around your hips and thighs but stopped way down near the middle of them. Good enough. It was all you had that wouldn't risk flashing, just in case. And you slid into the bathroom just before you stopped by your desk, nervously hiding in the stall, double-checking the obviously empty bathroom, and then…slipping out of your underwear. And you tucked it deep into your bag–out of sight, out of mind.
For…as long as it took to straighten and step out of the stall.
And then it was blatantly obvious how fucking bare you felt.
From the hesitation in the bathroom, the glance at your reflection, all the way back to your desk where you logged in, left a note for Hank that you were making copies and coffee in the copier room, and then departed for the room. You were bare. Nothing was visible–you were aware of that. Without bending over, you were in the clear. And it spared you any underwear lines on your skirt. But…the air conditioner felt twice as cold as usual as you stood near the vent, gradually filling the machine, the filter, the printer with necessary documents to copy for backup files.
File after file. Handout after handout for other employees. Brochures for the desk of the building. You clicked through the stack that you had to get through. The warm paper turned into stacks, and you folded the brochures idly since the interns wouldn't be in for a few hours, and you needed something to do with your hands. The coffee started to fill the pot when you heard footsteps in the hallway.
Your attention piqued. You stalled your work for a few moments, straining to listen to who might've been there. Erik? Hank? A morning meeting that came early? You swallowed hard and shifted your weight around on your heels. Who?
You looked at the door until you heard someone approach it. It was still hard to tell who it might've been–both Hank and Erik had distinct gaits, but when your heartbeat was in your ears, it was hard to hear it. To focus on it. You turned your back to the door the second the knob moved and used the round table you'd stacked your copies on as an excuse to avoid looking.
You fumbled with the papers you held when the door swung open and there wasn't Hank's immediate good morning. Which only meant….
"Good morning, (Y/N)."
Your fingers twitched on the papers as you righted them again and tapped the uneven edges against the table. Breathe. The room felt smaller and hotter, and you could feel his gaze burning into you as the door shut. And he stepped into the room. Stepped up closer to you.
The coffee in the pot continued to rise.
"Morning, Erik," you said as calmly as you could. It…was not successful. The twinge of jealousy of how he'd spent the rest of his night came back. The feeling wasn't great, nor was the incoming shyness you couldn't stave off because you weren't wearing any fucking underwear. "Um. Coffee will be ready in a moment."
"Thank you," he mused.
And you felt the entire room go still as you heard his footsteps get closer and closer. They drew tension along your entire body under the soft, almost silent steps. And you nearly fumbled the stack of papers sitting too tightly in your hands when he put his hand on your back. If it was meant to be a comforting touch, it was far from it. A bolt of heat shot down from the light touch, and all you smelled was that cinnamon and spice aftershave that tore through the fresh ink and dripping coffee.
"Did, um," you stuttered, eyes down on the papers you were desperately trying not to crinkle. Erik's hand skated higher then lower. A pass over your back as he put two fingers down on the table, eyeing the stack of printed brochures on renewable energy. He dragged one over with ease, his other hand sliding down to rest just above your ass. "Did you have a good night?"
You closed your eyes. Come on. You were there for part of it, and you were actively trying not to dwell on the rest of it. Whatever happened behind closed doors when he went back into the room was his business. You were no part of it. No part of him.
"It was eventful," he stated plainly. The tips of his fingers moved to skate over your zipper. There was a fluttering in your stomach that made the lack of breakfast feel crueler than usual. Your hands were unsteady as you sat the stack of papers down. "I discovered that a member of a prestigious club I operate lied on her participation application."
In your peripherals, you saw his head move. His eyes left the brochure and turned to you. The trail they left over the side of your face was burning hot and overwhelming. The top of your dress felt tight as you took deeper breaths to compensate for your growing lack of composure.
"Oh," was all you said.
Erik hummed in response.
"I do not take kindly to liars, but I was feeling…generous. I offered her a chance to make it up to me." His fingers danced lower. Slowly. Slow enough that you thought he might've been giving you a chance to swat them away or to step from his reach. You didn't. You wouldn't. You closed your eyes as he stepped closer, his chest pressing to your arm and shoulder, his hand reaching the bottom of your dress. "Did she?"
He hooked his fingers around the hem and tugged back. Your breath caught as your dress was pulled tighter against you, the backs of his fingers brushing against your thighs in the process.
You nodded your head.
"(Y/N)."
"Yes." You nodded again. "Sir. Yes, she did."
His fingers brushed against your thighs again.
"Might I see?" Another tug went to your dress. "She has lied once before. Should I trust her at her word?"
Your nipples were points that you worried were poking through your bra until you remembered the exact scenario you were in. You nodded again, hardly able to speak as a soft gasp caught in your throat. And Erik must've taken pity on you–he didn't make you vocalize it that time. A small part of you thought you'd pay for it later, which was an internal shift of some thrill at the thought of what that'd be.
And then his other hand lifted, and your breath hitched when he not only pressed it against your back, but he pushed down. He bent you over the table until your hands caught yourself, elbows locking and back arching just a bit. With your back to the door, you swore your heart was beating loud enough to hear it in the room. You could feel it against the table as his fingers stayed hooked around your dress, and he gave it just enough of a tug to pull it up.
You kept your eyes shut, hoping Hank wouldn't decide to come in early, praying for it, wishing for it, when you felt the cool air hit your cunt. One paper crinkled under a closing fist as you heard Erik's sharp inhale. And then came yours as his hand touched not your cunt, but your thighs, spreading your legs just a little.
"And can I touch?" he asked quietly. Not softly. There was a tension in his voice that made your clit throb.
You didn't hesitate to nod. Your ears still held your heartbeat, but your attention still craned out to hear any possible sounds in the hallway.
"(Y/N)...."
There was a sharp sting against your ass, and the whole table jolted. You jolted. You yelped. The skin stung, but it wasn't a lingering pain. A sharp slap and then a dull ache that slowly faded. And…your cunt clenched. He spanked you.
"Yes, sir," you damn near babbled. "Yes, sir. You can. I'm sorry. You can touch."
He hummed again on his exhale and then came the press of his hand against where he'd spanked you. Warm and large and rough, his palm ran over your ass. Nerves jostled inside you as you clenched your jaw hard. Please, nobody come to work early. You shifted around on your legs, the nerves growing worse as his hand went lower. Your breathing turned choppy just as his fingers skated over your cunt.
You were dripping wet.
"See, that is an appropriate time to apologize," Erik mused. His fingers stroked your clit without pause while his others started to spread you. "It is good to see our lesson last night took effect." He brought his hand to the small of your back and pressed down, angling your hips back. "Do we need to do another so you remember my other rule?"
He brought his fingers down from your clit and pressed one into you. No warning besides the drag between your folds. Then he was slowly giving you his finger. Slowly thrusting it into you. Slowly drawing out the wet sounds it made as he curled it inside of you.
"When I ask you a question, how are you to respond?" he asked, adding in a second finger without warning. You had to bite your lip to keep the whines and gasps back.
"Verbally."
A moan slipped as his fingers stroked your g-spot.
"And what are you to call me?" His fingers moved faster.
"Sir," you said quickly. Although he hadn't outright instructed you to say that at the club, it was implied. He…he seemed to enjoy it, and you weren't going to stop then. The table moved an inch as he stepped closer, his leg going against yours, and his cock…was hard against your side. All as he moved his fingers faster, and your cunt fluttered with a building pleasure. "E-Erik, please."
You weren't sure what you were asking for. It felt so fucking good, and the pleasure was slowly building. But were you asking him to stop because you were at work? Were you asking for that little extra against your clit so you'd cum and be done with the worry of getting caught? Were you simply begging for him? You couldn't even figure out the question to answer, so how the hell was he supposed to?
"Fuck," you whined, hanging your head as his movements never even faltered.
The coffee stopped inside the pot, and you heard the copier click into sleep mode.
"Do not lie to me again," he said damn near darkly. Like a threat. One you already knew. One that made your knees weak and your cunt flutter. "Do you understand me? This does not work if there is lying involved."
"Yes, sir," you spat. You nodded your head frantically. "Please. Please." But you still weren't saying what you wanted. And as you heard the elevator ding down the hallway, you knew your answer. "Fuck. That's…Erik."
He reached around you, and his other hand stroked your clit.
"Wait. Wait." Your hands crinkled another sheet as his fingers plunged into you and circled your clit. That climax that'd been teased was right there. Suddenly there. And with your clit still a little sore from all the attention last night, all it took was Erik's light touch to throw you barreling toward your orgasm. "Erik, that's Hank. That's–"
Your cunt clenched, and as you heard the door down the hall open and shut, you couldn't stop. You felt your climax throw itself at you with a mockery of your current situation. Your thighs were wet and sticky, and you were panting and shaking. Your dress was wrinkled on the skirt, and nipples ached in your bra. And your cunt gushed as the pleasure peaked, and you fluttered and squeezed around his fingers just as it slammed–
Erik pulled back.
No fingers on your clit.
No fingers in your cunt.
And you felt yourself empty. Very empty. Your walls fluttered around a horrible nothingness inside you, and you gasped. Down went your head while your elbows gave way, and you felt your back curve when you pressed your forehead to the cool table.
"Liars do not get to cum." He wiped his fingers on the insides of your thighs before tugging your dress down without pause. "Not until I believe they deserve it."
He gave your ass a small squeeze with his clean hand before he simply walked away. You heard the sink running, and when you glanced up, not only was his hand not under the water, but you felt a thrill and a level of desire you hadn't expected when he admired his fingers glistened before he wrapped his lips around the tip of one.
Your breath caught loudly, and Erik peered back at you with his brows slightly raised, his fingers only barely pulling back from his lips. His tongue licked the residue left as his eyes found yours.
"I do hope you do not have to sit much today." He wrapped his mouth around his other finger, humming so goddamn quietly as he licked it clean, you thought you'd imagined it. You hadn't. And you actively gushed and ached at the sight. "With how wet you are, your dress does not stand a chance."
He put his hands underneath the water, spritzing soap into them and turning his back to you. You slowly rose, hardly able to form any coherent words as you stared at him. You'd been to his club twice, seen damn near every day for weeks, and that was the hottest thing you'd encountered with him. You couldn't even wrap your head around it; you just watched him scrub his hands, knowing he'd just tasted you. Licked his damn fingers clean like he needed to know what you tasted like.
"How do you take your coffee?" he asked. Casually. Like he'd simply walked into the room to wash his hands, and not that you were the reason he was doing so. "Since you seem incapable of moving beyond that spot, I figure I ought to make it for you."
"I…."
But your voice trailed off. Erik peered back at you only after rinsing his hands and picking up a fresh towel, turning to face you as he dried his hands. The picture of put together and close to intimidating in that perfectly tailored suit, broad shoulders and muscle to fill it out. His smile almost sent you to your knees as you desperately tried to flatten out the wrinkles in your dress.
But he was right.
You were wet.
Forget the denial; you were sopping wet. As in had to go to the bathroom to clean up. Unless you wanted his words to be true. A black dress could hide a lot, but wet was still wet. And even on that dress, the wet fabric would be noticeable.
"Mm, come now, (Y/N)." Erik hung the towel up and leaned back against the counter. Both hands lazily held the edge of it. "Use your words. I know you know how."
Those blue eyes were on yours, and apparently, you had no hope to speak when you were under his attention so directly like that. After all of that. You opened and closed your mouth twice. Nothing. Dropped your eyes down to the table and stared at the crinkled paper. Still nothing. Cleared your throat and brushed your hands over your dress. Again, nothing.
And then Erik held out a hand. Palm up, fingers out, a small beckon forward.
"Come then, show me." He tilted his head and gave you a smile that made butterflies burst to life in your stomach. "Since I find this to be my fault."
And you managed a nervous step forward and then another until you swallowed hard as you slid up beside Erik. He poured coffee into two mugs before nudging one in front of you. You let out a shaky breath while he brought his hand to the small of your back.
"You were not so quiet last night during the forty then," he mused under his breath, eyes glued to your mug as you reached for the sugar and powdered creamer. You passed him a packet and earned a cocked brow from him before he took it. "In fact, I would say you were eager for each one. Considering I merely instructed my patrons to not let you cum. I never instructed you to not do so."
Your heart stuttered and you almost dropped the spoon as you went to stir your coffee.
"Or were you simply eager to please me?"
There was a pause that was merely the sound of the two of you stirring your coffee. The metal spoon was far louder than it should've been against the ceramic mugs. You couldn't ignore the blush creeping onto your face. Nor the harsh realization that he was right and you couldn't look him in the eye.
"Do you like pleasing people, (Y/N)?" he asked a second later, watching the coffee drip from the end of his spoon before setting it neatly in the sink. "Or simply just me?"
You didn't answer him. You'd always been a people pleaser, and facing it under that context right then was…landing differently. You still didn't look at him. You didn't do anything except nearly drop your spoon as you reached over to put it beside his in the sink.
Erik's gaze was still glued to you.
And then he moved. His hand moved from his mug as the other remained on your back, and he…reached into his jacket pocket. You didn't see what it was until it was on the counter in front of you.
A pair of black underwear.
A g-string that was surprisingly casual if he was giving it to you for the reasons you thought. It was a thick black material all around and was softer than expected when you plucked it up.
"When you go to the bathroom to clean yourself up, put that on for me. If you would be so kind."
You found yourself nodding before you even realized what you were doing. "Yes, sir."
You ran your thumb over the absurdly soft fabric and tried not to wince at how strained your voice sounded.
And Erik smiled just before he stepped back. That was his departure, it seemed, leaving you with underwear he'd picked out for you and left on the edge of an orgasm. And he turned without another glance at you, moving to pass right where he'd had you bent over the table only to…stop? You blinked as he picked up the copies you'd made, tucking them neatly into an alternating stack before continuing toward the door.
"The club is not open tonight, but I expect to see you there tomorrow evening." He peered back at you with a knowing look. "I wish to give you another lesson. We have to train that people pleasing out of you. I am the only one I want you so eager to please. Understand?"
You just nodded.
Again, he seemed to take pity on you. Or maybe it was only when touching was involved that he required a verbal response. Consent. You sucked in a slow, burning breath. It was about consent. And knowing. Power, too, probably. He seemed to bleed it and thrive when not just you but others in the club melted under his command.
But then, still, that was there. Where everything came down to trust, rules, and consent.
"Yes, sir," you still said, closing your fingers around the underwear. "I'll be there."
He tilted his head, and his smirk got larger.
"I expect it." He flicked his eyes down to where you knew you had wrinkles still in your dress. "Do not touch yourself before then, and perhaps I will be kinder with my lesson this time."
His eyes flicked over you again.
You nodded.
"Good." He nudged the door open and stepped out into the hall. "I will see these papers find their way to your desk. Thank you for such a sweet morning treat, (Y/N)." He hummed and raised the mug. "And the coffee."
His eyes glinted before the door shut hard.
And you fell back against the counter, underwear in hand, head spinning.
The image of Erik wrapping his lips around your fingers was seared into your brain like a new part of you had just been unlocked. And it was worrisome with how much it made you yearn not just for him to do it again but…but to feel his tongue against you. He'd yet to touch you. Not anything more than his fingers. And even with just two trips to the club, it felt like an obvious weight on your shoulders. In fact, he didn't let anyone touch him while he worked with you. He didn't even touch himself. He just put his attention on you. Solely you. Even as others teased you.
Was he saving himself for someone later? Was he merely just…not interested in that portion? Was he not interested in you? He'd licked his fingers. No chance he'd do that if there wasn't the slightest interest. And he was bothering you outside of the club, which meant…he was breaching a line he had in place for nothing in the club leaves the club.
You closed your eyes and dropped your chin down.
You felt yourself dripping down your thighs.
He was probably just saving himself to fuck someone else later.
You felt a twinge of jealousy spark in your stomach and pushed up from the counter. Dwelling on it would prove to yield only pointless results. There were more important matters at hand–like cleaning yourself up, slipping into the underwear that was significantly more comfortable than you'd expected, and then trying to act normal and casual and not awkward at all as you went to your desk. The papers were set out neatly in separate stacks.
With the minor blessing of Hank's door being shut, you were given the reprieve you'd needed to actually get some work done. And you'd managed to get a significant amount done when Erik finally left. You timed it perfectly, waiting for the opportunity to slip down and give the brochures to the interns so they could fold them. Was there talk of the attractive man who came to the office every day to work on a secret project with Hank? Yes. Did it make your stomach feel both fluttery and twisty when the interns and others down on that floor asked you about the older, handsome man who looked far too good in a suit for his own good?
Also yes.
And you slipped a note to be delivered to Kalie at the front desk to keep an eye out for an incoming package that should arrive soon. It wasn't anything more than replacement sticky notes, printer paper, paper clips, and all other replacements for office supplies, but Hank was going through them faster than you were.
You did end up passing Erik as you stepped off of the elevator on your floor right as he was stepping on. And there was a spark in his gaze when his eyes went from his phone and right up to you. There was a slight demeanor change as he smiled and held out his arm in the direction of the door so you could step off first.
That did things to your stomach that were a strong betrayal, but you couldn't stop the gooey feeling that he fucking seemed to brighten at the sight of you. Were you reading too much into it? Maybe. Did you still enjoy how good it made you feel? Yes.
"Enjoy the rest of your day, Erik," you said, beating him to whatever he was going to throw at you.
"You as well," he said as he stepped onto the elevator.
His eyes lingered on you as you peered over your shoulder at him. And they stayed on you as the doors started to close.
"See you tomorrow, my dear," he added.
And you were riding that little moment for hours. That and the edge that seemed to refuse to go away. Distracting yourself with work worked until you remembered his fingers damn near throwing you toward your climax in the room just down the hall. And you managed to work yourself up again and again throughout the day, being your own worst enemy.
Even that night, when you took a colder shower to cool off, you were still drifting back to it. How he found your sweet spot with ease. How he was light and kind on your clit yet still found the rhythm to coax a climax out of you. How his lips quirked into a smile as he wrapped them around his finger to taste you. Not once, but twice.
Maybe you really were too much of a people-pleaser.
You actively argued with yourself about touching yourself to get rid of the ache between your legs. Because Erik would never know unless he asked. And you could just lie to him about it. But…fresh off lying to him about your experience, lying to him about that wouldn't help your case.
And it…it was kind of fun following his rules. Any other version of it, and you would've found the instructions gross. But it…. With him, it was the same as the club. Where he asked, and he made sure you were interested in continuing and teasing and touching and fuck.
You clawed at your bed sheets.
You really were eager to please him. Those proud looks he gave you made you burn.
Damn it.
You'd tackle it tomorrow. You peered over at your clock, and a lightning bolt of thrill shot through you. You'd get another lesson from him, and you were trembling with excitement.
You just had to survive the workday tomorrow first.
At least it proved to come rather quickly–unlike your current predicament. You actually arrived late thanks to sleeping through your alarm, so when you arrived, Erik was already in Hank's office. A slight miracle, considering you were struggling to do that wonderful compartmentalizing again. Hank's door was cracked, though, so you could still hear his voice. Not exactly what words were said, but the low timbre of his voice stood out next to Hank's.
Really, it was all fine and dandy like that. You got to work, learned to tune out both of their voices, made quiet calls, and answered incoming emails. Checked and rechecked schedules, projects, and notes Hank had stuck to your desk that morning on…napkins. But it was fine. You weren't thinking about Erik or going to the club that evening or the people you were nervously excited about being paired with to enact whatever tasks Erik had in store for you. It didn't take a lot of hard thought to remember the strong feel of the person holding you up, your legs held open as the others pushed you to the brink again and again and again.
It…it really wasn't hard to remember how strong the vibrations had been on your clit as the wand was wiggled atop it. How the vibrator was pressed into you, plunging into you, fucking you and filling you and stretching you until you were fluttering around the thick thing. Gushing and squirming and silently begging to cum. Only letting the sounds that left you be the moans and whimpers that every dirty action pulled from you. While everyone watched. While the clamps pinched your nipples and your clit swelled and down came the wand again to wreak havoc and throw you towards another orgasm you weren't going to get.
All while Erik sat there and just…watched.
Oh, fuck.
You rolled your hips until you were sitting near the edge of your chair, your legs crossed as best as you could get them while your thighs squeezed. You felt yourself drip into your underwear in a cruel, damp warmth.
Hank's door flew open as you planned to jump up to use the bathroom, but your plan was foiled before you even managed to straighten your back. And your cheeks burned as your eyes flicked up to Erik and Hank.
"Ah, there you are!" Hank, ever the epitome of sunlight, beamed. "Erik and I are going to lunch. Would you care to join us?"
Normally, you'd say yes. Hank always picked the best places to grab food, and part of you was curious about what kind of food Erik liked. But when you were worried about a potential damp spot on your navy blue skirt, you couldn't afford to stand when you knew Hank would let you walk in front.
Erik cocked a brow when your attention briefly found him. But just as fast as it'd been there, your eyes were down on your desk while you idly organized your papers.
"Oh, no, thank you, I'm still a little behind since I may have accidentally slept through my alarm this morning." You gave Hank a wry, apologetic smile. "But I appreciate it."
"I fear you overwork yourself closer and closer to my standards every day, my friend," Hank said with a small laugh. "I will bring something back for you then."
"Thanks," you murmured, very, very aware of Erik's eyes on you. Even as they both departed, even with his back to you, you felt your body burn.
Damn it.
You waited until they were long out off the floor before you went to the bathroom to compose yourself. And…maybe splashed some water on your wrists and neck and then dabbed a wet paper towel on your cheeks.
Compartmentalize.
You closed your eyes and put your hands on the counter.
You just…had to think about work and only work, and then when you were off, you could let yourself wonder. Imagine. Imagine what Erik would have in store for you. What cruel yet sinfully wonderful things he had planned with you. What…what he'd do after. Because he still…he made no intention or allusion to any touch from himself. Sure, he touched you. But fuck you…. You sucked in a slow breath. Then another. Ah. Your stomach twisted. At least the jealousy grounded you.
Made it a little easier to keep yourself together.
Thinking about him only playing with you only to take out the obvious erection he had on someone else made that burning go away. Made you swallow around a little knot in your throat, but it was best to face the facts sooner rather than later.
There was simply having a small crush on the handsome man who touched and fingered and teased you. Whose sex club you visited, and who watched and instructed others with you. That was one thing. It was another to actually feel more than that. To actually think those smiles weren't the same smiles he gave everyone who teased. Everyone he touched. Those he…those he probably actually kissed and really, genuinely touched.
Fucked.
You pushed up from the sink and nodded at your reflection.
A reality you weren't exactly having a fun time facing, but one you knew you had to.
One that actually helped you focus on work, too.
Or maybe it was just the fact that Erik wasn't there to distract you. Who knew?
There was a soft knock on the door an hour and a half later. Your ears had already perked up when you heard the elevator ding, but there was a lack of conversation between the two men, and it wasn't just one or the other's footsteps that came through. And you cocked a brow until you heard that knock, and you visibly relaxed.
"Mail delivery," came next in a familiar voice that made you suck in a careful breath. And in poked a familiar face. Then, a large brown box on a dolly was pushed in as you hopped up to hold the door for him.
"Hey, Aster," you said with a little smile as he came strutting in. "Thanks. I appreciate you bringing it all the way up. Spared me having to figure it out myself."
"Oh, shit. Of course." Aster, the usual mail delivery person, a few years older than you with a uniform you were certain he'd asked to be half a size too small, always went out of his way to bring you packages himself. Even the small ones that were meant for the front desk that could be left at the front desk. "You think I'd ever put you through that?"
He nudged the side of the box as he slid it off the dolly next to your desk.
"Hank, maybe. I think he could lift it. But you?" He raked his finger through his golden blond curls. Some of the other employees called him the modern-day Adonis. Which wasn't helping his ego, considering they weren't shy about mentioning it to his face. "I'd never be so cruel to you."
At least you could say meeting Erik had a more positive effect on you than you'd realized. You were normally a flustered mess when you weren't distracted by work when he came by. Also…not helping his ego, but he was a very attractive man. And outwardly flirty. As he was with everyone. But still.
Used to be one look from him, and you'd remember just how lonely your bed was every night. How tired you were of using your own hands or toys.
"Ever the gentleman. Thanks, Aster," you said with a laugh. "Whatever would we do without such a kind office supplies delivery man?"
"Mmm," he said as he spun, leaning against your desk and thumbing through your pens in a very reminiscent way of how Erik once had. You still missed your purple pen that he'd yet to give back. "I think your poor back would be broken in irreversible ways that haunt me to think about." He gave you a little smirk that actually made your heart beat a little faster. "You're too pretty for that."
"I don't feel like that's the compliment you think it is," you said with another laugh. Nervous laughter was still there, check. Maybe Erik hadn't changed you all that much yet.
You had to get close to him to reach around him to get your box opener, and when your arms brushed, there was that usual tingling sensation left in its wake. Yup. You were still your old self. And the lingering look with his hazel eyes and the adjoining smirk was making your stomach flutter in old ways.
Even after four years of that, it still had the same effect on you.
"I'm running out of creative ways to call you pretty; work with me on this, (Y/N)." He turned, sauntering up beside you as you bent over and sliced carefully through the tape on the top. You damn near fumbled with the knife, his words settling on you with a slight delay. Everything had always been little comments and slight flirtations that he'd done with everyone. He'd never just outright said anything like that before. "And, speaking of, you look very pretty today."
You blinked at him as you stayed bent over the box.
…huh?
He looked right back at you with a lopsided grin that remained as he laughed. He…what? You…. He…. What was happening? He reached down and opened the box for you when you didn't, and you straightened as he peered inside like the contents were something cool and not just stacks of recycled printer paper, recycled paperclips, and printer ink.
"Thank you," you said, voice soft and filled with confusion.
Was he actually hitting on you? Last you'd heard from him over a month ago, he'd been entangled with a friend with benefits. Very pointedly seeming to mention that he wasn't the kind of guy to settle down and he was just enjoying their fun together. And…asked if you knew what he meant, and it'd led to a semi-awkward conversation where you flustered and stuttered through the entire thing about how, no, you'd never had a friend with benefits before. He'd looked surprised, then gave you another once over, and said world's missing out on you then. If you ever want to try, you know how to reach me.
…. Wait.
Oh, wow.
You pinched the bridge of your nose as he laughed again. He reached over and gave your arm a little touch that sent a small jolt through you. Yup. There was the embarrassment. Had he actually been hitting on you? Seriously? You pinched your nose a little tighter.
"Everything okay there, pretty lady?" A little bit of amusement was still in his voice. "Don't tell me that's the first you've heard someone compliment your outfit. I'm certain I've done it before."
"Sorry," you stuttered, taking a deep breath as his hand loosened its grip and his fingers trailed along your arm in a way that was almost soothing, except it was making your head spin. "Sorry, no. It's not…. I mean." A breathy laugh slipped from your lips, and you shook your head. Okay, nope. Looking at him was a grave error. You hadn't even heard the elevator ding outside when you did. "God, sorry. I'm just…."
And Aster laughed again. A flirty laugh. It sounded flirty. Very flirty. And his grin was that, too. Was he actually hitting on you? You met his gaze and felt a cruel fluttering in your gut that worsened significantly when his hand managed to make it down to yours. His fingers followed the curve of your arm down to your wrist, then just barely grazed over your palm.
"Tired. I'm just tired," you said, a little strained.
And you heard the office door open as Aster hooked his fingers around yours, lifting your hand up to where you actually almost thought he was going to kiss your knuckles. He didn't, obviously. He just ran his thumb over a purple ring you had on, admiring it before that thumb ran across your fingers.
"Pretty," he said softly. "Aren't you always tired?" He peered over at the door and waved his other hand. "You're always overworking her, Hank."
You went still. Not because of Hank. Aster was a flirt with everyone, your boss included. He was also like this without shame in front of him, too. It wasn't uncommon for you to be sitting at your desk with Aster sitting atop it, clearly distracting you from work while Hank came to and from the office.
It was rare since packages only came every few weeks with the occasional once-a-week delivery. And it was only for fifteen minutes at most. Never egregious. Never crossing any boundaries–per your own reassurance to Hank, who said he would kindly find a new mail person should Aster ever cross any lines.
So Hank was used to it. Or maybe Hank was well aware that most of your life lent itself to work and thought a little flirting would be good for you. It…wasn't good how quickly you jumped to that conclusion, but you had another complication to worry about.
Hank hadn't returned alone.
And you felt yourself tense as you peered at Erik, head tilted, eyes fixed right where Aster still held your hand. You wanted to pull away, but that would've looked like something. Aster would've noticed, Hank would've noticed, and Erik definitely would've.
You sucked in a sharp breath as you watched Hank set a to-go box down on your desk.
"A club sandwich, my friend," Hank said to you, and with a sly green, he glanced at Aster. "And you must know I often encourage (Y/N) here to return home early more often than not. This is merely her impeccable work ethic."
"Oh, yeah? Is this one of the nights you thinking about letting her off early?" Aster said without skipping a beat.
Your heart skipped a beat. You could feel Erik's eyes every time he looked at you. He was silent, with only a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Not even remotely. He had one brow cocked as Hank passed in front of him, one hand pushing some of his blueish-black hair out of his eyes, his other hand scratching his chin.
"Perhaps. Should I inquire why you are curious?" Hank said.
Aster shrugged one shoulder before your hand was free of his hold. He reached down into the box of supplies, plucking out a pack of sticky notes and tugging the plastic covering off. A pen from his shirt pocket clicked, and you watched with burning cheeks and a skyrocketing pulse as he wrote down ten digits.
He pulled the sticky note off and passed it to you.
"Well, if you are off early and you need something to do," Aster slipped the note into your hand. "Or someone to do something with." He gave you a little wink. Yup. You were still your old self. "Gimme a call. Shoot a text. Whichever."
He kept his eyes on you as he stepped back. That roguish smile made you suck in your cheeks to keep from saying anything stupid. Those flirty eyes glinted so cruelly as you ran your thumb over the sticky note.
"You really do look pretty today," he said before turning. "Nice to see you again, as always, Hank. Apologies for stealing a sticky note."
"It's forgiven, young Aster," Hank mused.
And you stood completely still, eyes down on the sticky note, as you heard the door open and shut. Aster just…asked you out. He gave you his number and told you to call him. To…. Holy hell. You took a shaky breath while staring at the listed phone number in that annoying handwriting you got on him for when people had to read delivery slips, and he wrote in chicken scratch. But you could read the numbers. You could so easily read them.
"Ah, only took four years, but it seemed the boy finally came to his senses." Hank let out a small laugh as he reached for his office door. "You may leave an hour early if you wish, (Y/N). And do not worry about transporting the printer paper. I will see to it being brought down to the supply room."
You…you nodded.
Aster asked you out?
Aster asked you out.
In front of Erik.
Your eyes flicked over to him just as Hank disappeared into his office, and when your eyes locked, his expression was indecipherable. His jaw looked a little hard, and there wasn't a smile on his face, but if he was anything other than indifferent to it, he didn't show it. But the slightest linger when Hank was already in his office, the quirk of one brow as he looked back at the sticky note, and slid his hands into his pockets made something twitch inside you.
Your heart was a drill pressing against your chest as Erik shut the door behind him. You were supposed to go to the club that evening. That wasn't until ten, though. And you were off the clock at four if you left early. And….
And what?
You placed the sticky note down on the desk and started to unpack the supplies from the box. What were you going to do? Call the cute guy you'd had a small crush on the past four years, and see, what? He was always clear about never wanting a relationship. Going out with him held the same possibility of going to Erik's. Except you couldn't even be entirely certain that it was just going to be sex with Aster. He might've been interested in just grabbing food or a drink or seeing a movie or literally anything friends did.
And Erik's…Erik's meant fun. Meant…sin and lust and relief. And a lesson. He…he had another lesson planned, and you…. Fuck.
You snacked on the sandwich Hank had brought you, leg bouncing underneath your desk as you clicked through emails, eyes drifting over to the sticky note and then Hank's door. You could go meet up with Aster before the club, couldn't you? You reached for your phone at the thought, typing in Aster's number just to be safe. Just in case.
If you spared an hour or so for him after you got off work, went back to shower and clean up before the club, and then gave yourself some extra time to get there, it'd be fine, right? You could have both. And it was being presumptuous to assume Aster wanted to just meet up to have sex. And even if he did, you weren't against that. He was pretty. It just might make package deliveries a little awkward.
Hank's phone rang as you heard the office door open and shut. You swallowed your bite of sandwich while you finished entering in Aster contact, peering up just as you sat your phone down–screen up and unlocked–as Erik stepped out, his coat off his shoulders. There was little care in hiding his actions as he glanced first at your phone–a lingering glance–and then at you.
"Busy evening, it seems." He fixed those blue eyes on you in a manner that made your breath hitch. "If you fuck him before you enter my club, do not think I will even give you a passing glance."
And then he walked away. A strong, tense silence caught in the air with every intimidating step he took on the hardwood floor. His hand was in a pocket while the other held his coat in a tight grip.
"Do enjoy your evening, though."
Erik threw the door open with a flourish and left you sitting with your mouth parted, chest heaving, and phone…turning off.
You stayed an hour late that night.
Were you embarrassed about how quickly you came to that decision? Yes. Did you force yourself to face that fact with a brutal level of honesty? Probably not enough. It did get you to text Aster, though. Trapped somewhere between the fact that the fun with Erik at the club was just that–fun. You followed the weird rules he set because it was interesting. Thrilling. Sexy. But its only limit was that. Aster, at least, was…the same but different. The kind that gave you the possibility when you hadn't even given him a chance to even know if all he wanted was sex, too.
So you shot him a text saying you ended up getting rushed with a project another employee had neglected–not really a lie, either–and had to take it up from them unless you wanted the deadline missed. It was only about half an hour of extra work, but you took your time with it. And technically they had until the end of the next day to complete it, but…any excuse was any excuse.
You'd texted him for the last hour you were at the office, apologizing for staying late, but you were…interested…in hanging out another night if he was. An out for yourself, too, just in case Aster had plans canceled or something, and he'd just wanted a one-night stand with you. Done and done. No assumptions made on expectations or intentions.
But when he texted back again. And again. And kept the conversation going, you somehow ended up agreeing to grab a coffee across the street when you ended up finishing the project. Nothing substantial for him, probably, but it made your hands shake and your heart beat a little faster.
Was it a date?
You were there first, enjoying a cup of coffee that'd help keep you awake at the club later, only for maybe…five minutes when Aster came in. You felt more nervous than what was probably required for such a small meeting. You knew him. All the little things over the course of four years told you a fair bit about him. Had two sisters. Loved cats and grew up with one named Fairy. Had an orange tabby that he called Coffee. Dropped out of college before going back because he knew it'd make his mom proud. Was off and on with multiple people over the course of the four years you knew him, but never really dated. Enjoyed coffee over tea. Cheesecake or cake and pie. Worked out six days a week and enjoyed country music. Liked to paint, though. A secret passion.
And for four years, you'd had that stupid little crush that made your heart flutter every time you saw him. Not…okay. You were quickly discovering that with what Erik had helped awaken in you–and the events at the club–it wasn't a crush. Aster was attractive, flirty, and sexy. All the things you yearned to have in your bed.
So you just…you were just getting coffee. That was it. Coffee with the cute delivery guy.
Coffee with the cute delivery guy who showed up exactly when he said he'd be there. Who topped off your coffee for you and bought you a piece of cheesecake to share. Who made you laugh and asked you about your day and who that intimidating guy with the white hair had been. And…you felt your stomach twist. You did your best to explain who Erik was without seeming like you really genuinely knew him beyond his meetings with your boss.
But talking about Erik made you think about what he'd said before he left. And it made you think about the club. Made you think about the jealousy in your stomach at all the fun he had after you left. And what kind of fun was that? Were others getting more of him? Was he holding back from you on purpose?
You needed to stop asking yourself the questions you had no answers to that were just going to drive you mad.
"I'm sorry I can't stick around longer. I just…it's been such a long day. I'm…I'm sorry." You flattened your hands on your skirt as Aster walked you to your car just across the street. "Can I ask, though, what…um. Just, your intention? Because four years…."
You scrunched your nose. You were not that bad at talking to Hank. The other employees, strangers, even Erik–you were actually able to string words together to form coherent sentences. Apparently, not with Aster!
"I'm sorry." You shook your head again, and almost subconsciously, you felt Erik's harsh stare. Felt it before the club, felt it during, and felt it after. "I'm just…trying to not get wires crossed or anything misunderstood."
Aster responded simply yet so horribly vaguely, you were left with more questions. But questions you couldn't speak. Because he curled his fingers around your elbow and brought his mouth to yours. Yup. Aster was at least talented in all his roguish efforts. Your back hit the car as his tongue curled against yours. His hands found your waist and bunched the fabric there, and he didn't quite pin you against the car, but he had you against it just enough so that you could support yourself there.
"That," was all he said about it when he pulled back. "I'll see you later."
You were blinking at his back as he slipped away, your head spinning and something feeling…interesting in your gut. It was a hell of a kiss. Talented. Skilled. A panty-dropper. Except…. You slid into your car as you licked the taste of him from your lips. Except there wasn't…. You shook your head. You were looking for a needle in a haystack, weren't you? Or maybe you were just too preoccupied thinking about Erik and the club that maybe it had distracted you. But the kiss just felt…like a kiss. No spark. No….
You let out a shaky breath as you pulled up to your apartment.
No draw like what you felt to Erik.
Damn it.
Had you accidentally ruined something for yourself because of expectations set by him? Comparing the two when you hadn't even kissed Erik was unfair. And yet, the comparison was still there. Subconscious even as you tried to argue with yourself. You only knew what a graze of Erik's lips felt like against yours, and when you closed your eyes, you could still taste the liquor. Could still feel the tingling in your muscles, your bones, your cunt from every denial and that final allowance.
You blew out a long, long breath and wiped your hands over your face. Went inside and took a long shower. Your fingers were pruned when you eventually got out, but you felt no better about the mixed emotions inside of you. Aster kissed you, and what were you doing? You were finishing up a load of laundry and looking at the underwear Erik had given you. You were sitting back at your desk, looking out at the stars, listening to music as you thought about his fingers pressing into your cunt, more stroking your clit, and that orgasm he kept from you pushing closer and closer but never reaching.
Damn it.
Two-months-ago-(Y/N) would've been overjoyed at Aster asking her out. But now? You were trying to decipher what the onslaught of feelings you had inside yourself meant. And you drove over to the club, still thinking about the kiss, still thinking about Erik's promise.
"If you fuck him before you enter my club, do not think I will even give you a passing glance."
Well, it was just a kiss. You slipped out of your car and went toward the entrance. A kiss wasn't that bad, was it?
November 1963
The American South was so predictable. As many times as Erik had traveled all around the world, the South was still the South. He’d arrived at the airport in Dallas on a commercial flight from DC the morning of November 20.
He was straight up booked into the flight as Erik Lehnsherr. He was surprised that Kennedy and Stark would allow such a thing, but they in fact did. Erik assumed that it was because they needed someone to blame should something go wrong. Nothing was going to go wrong.
He was rather fond of fedoras. His current fedora sat on his dark locks at a skewed angle. He had his sunglasses laced into the collar of his shirt as he passed through the gate. He flashed his handsome grin to the female at the gate as he walked into the concourse.
Erik was being followed. He could tell. When one had been in the business as long as he had, there were certain tell tale signs of being followed. With being a magnetically powered mutant, he had certain advantages that others simply did not have.
Erik was right. There were three men following him. One man had reddish hair that curled all over. The other was a blonde man with crisp blue eyes. The final man was bald with massive biceps. They were an advance HYDRA scout team. Little did anyone know at the time, but the deeply embedded Emile Zola was the one that ordered this scouting team of Erik Lehnsherr.
The mutant who had been sent to keep things in order by the Attorney General and SHIELD’s director tried his best to keep a low profile. He picked up his lone bag from the luggage carousel still watching his surroundings closely. Azure hues visually scanned the room. He noticed the positions of the three men before pulling his fedora down over his eyes. Leaning back to a standing position, he tossed the bag over his shoulder. Erik continued to casually stroll toward the front door of the airport. He acted as though he had no idea he’d been followed although he knew he was.
The men all nodded to one another as the continued to pursue the magnetic mutant. They’d been instructed to use weapons made of plastic so they could not be detected by him. The continued the pursuit as their target headed for the door.
Lehnsherr was adept at moving through the crowd. The men of HYDRA had lost him a couple of times only to pick him back up again through a visual scan of the room. They dodged through the sea of humanity in order to follow him finally making it outside. Lehnsherr was heading toward a parking lot.
It was a remote area of the parking lot where they finally closed in on their prey. “Greetings Mr. Lehnsherr. Welcome to Dallas…” The man that spoke was the blonde.
Erik quirked a brow upward from under his fedora. “You don’t sound like you’re a native of the area…” He was still playing coy.
The bald man came up behind Erik and stuff a plastic gun in his ribs. “You will come with us. We insist.”
A slow sarcastic laugh came from deep within the throat of the Master of Magnetism. “Plastic guns? Really. Your Intel was good, but I’m better.” He shot a quick elbow backward into the chest of the man who had pulled the gun on him. A quick thrust upward with his wrist caused knuckles to crack into the man’s nose making a sickening crunching sound as his bones shattered. Blood from his nasal cavity was everywhere. Erik twisted his hand in the air. He controlled the iron that flowed through the man’s body and began to rip it from his body slowly and painfully.
Erik waved a hand and a wall of the parking meters from the parking lot all came crashing together. The resulting barricade surrounded the blonde man in a straight jacket of sorts throwing him to the ground. The metal meters were crushing the man’s rib cage slowly and painfully. He was still alive for now.
The ginger started to throw a ceramic knife at Erik. He shoved his hand at the man with an magnetic push that sent him flying through a cluster of parked cars. Erik gave another twist of his hand causing the cars to move together crushing the ginger as though he’d been caught in a car crusher machine.
Erik went back to the man wrapped in a jacket of parking meters. He waved his hand pulling the man to his feet. “Tell me now, who sent you.” His hand waved bringing the metal closer on the man’s body.
The man cried out in utter agony. “ARGH! Y-You mutant SCUM! NEIN!” His upper torso was red and crimson rivers of blood was starting to come from his nose and ears.
When Erik heard the German, his eyes widened. Anger raced through the very core of his soul. It always did when Nazis were involved. He twisted his arm again tightening the metal. “TELL ME.. NOW!”
He started laughing at Erik. “Nein. Little… Erik Lehnsherr. I will..not.” He was spewing blood at this point. “Beware…Winter..is..coming… HAIL HYDRA!” He bit down on his tooth cracking the capsule that released the cyanide. Erik waved a hand and tossed the man down to the concrete so hard, his bones shattered.
That was all he needed to hear. With a wave of his hand, he took to the air using his control over the magnetic field of the earth. He had much to do. The President would be in Dallas, soon.
