charles xavier. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
forgodssake) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2015-10-04 04:28 pm
forgodssake) wrote in ataraxionlogs2015-10-04 04:28 pm
Entry tags:
o14. quasi closed.
CHARACTERS: Charles Xavier + Caprica "Natasi" Six + Garrett Hawke; and others.
LOCATION: Probably there are trees.
WARNINGS: TBA.
SUMMARY: The sad story how we became lonely two legged creatures.
NOTES: A series of pre-planned threads and a general catch all for October, so please, if you want to do something, shout at me!
LOCATION: Probably there are trees.
WARNINGS: TBA.
SUMMARY: The sad story how we became lonely two legged creatures.
NOTES: A series of pre-planned threads and a general catch all for October, so please, if you want to do something, shout at me!
no subject
The wider camp is a humming constellation of human thought stretching around them, with the majority thrown west -- conscious and unconscious. All a clamour, regardless as to the thinness of tent canvas stapled into the ground around them. But he nods, not specifically disappointed by this caveat.
Warmer than neutral, like it's as much a game as it is a necessity.
He shifts, enough to slip a thigh between Erik's, and pulls himself back in to meet with a slightly more energetic kiss. ][ he echoes in the midst of doing so. Demonstrably, even telepathic voice is at a quiet simmer.
Less low and lazy than Erik, by virtue of optimism, perhaps, or his focus honed away from the things his subconscious likes to orbit, but momentum is more nudging back than pushing forward. ]
no subject
With his nose mashed blunt into a harder kiss, Erik pulls in as much as Charles is willing to give, too many teeth to fit together flush. His right hand has forsaken waistband in favor of hooking itself up in between Charles’ thighs, fingertips pressing along physical evidence of what he already feels is there, palm following after at a firmer roll and grasp through trousers.
Testing. Pushing for a break in the boundary between breath and voice early. ]
Charles, [ hushed between his teeth is only meant as a help here, surely.
The more he’s focused here, the less he’s focused elsewhere. ]
no subject
His own plants on the other man's chest, pushing him down. A non-verbal, mock reprimand. That didn't count.
Charles then shoves a hand up and against Erik's undershirt, pulling fabric to expose skin, his palm skimming rough along belly, ribcage, sternum. The journey back down is slower, fingertips finding ridges and dips, muscle lines and flatter planes of skin, tracing scars, before he slips his fingers beneath the waistband of shorts. Tugging. ]
no subject
He’s already physically warmer, skin burning beneath his shirt, blood running hot under pressure in his core. The sudden rush wears his concentration away with it -- he’s only just filling in and already has more of a sense of urgency for own cock than he does Charles,’ eyes so intent they’re starting to cross. As much as they can when the one is cottoned over, off yellow in the lamplight.
Still more handsome than Voldemort.
Slight delay marks the effort involved in turning his attention down to Charles’ shorts from his face, and then up again. He hooks his fingertips in to peel them down with a little more strength, stiff through the wrists.
The firm wrap of his palm is there to take over before the air has time to feel cool. ]
no subject