You are not alone, Charles always says,
his fingertips a whisper across Erik’s ribs.
Erik stares up at the ceiling,
already planning how to escape Charles’ soft eyes and his soft hands and his suffocating kindness.
That’s not for you to decide.
Lovely. I love everything about this, from the composition to the chess motif to the coloring to the ethereal, sad, dream-like quality to it.
I also like that we can’t see Erik’s eyes. I’m not sure if I’m reading too much into this, but it makes me think of the way Erik is so single-mindedly obsessed with Shaw, and he can’t really look at Charles - he can’t let himself be distracted, be weak - so he looks at the ceiling instead, and is blind to all the rest.
I also like how Charles’ line is much straighter than Erik’s?
And then they had sex.
A sharp rap at the door caused Valentin to jump a bit. He was antsy with anticipation and it took every effort for him not to leap from his chair and fling open the door. As it was he flung open the door, breathless, cheeks burning with hope and want.
“Herr Doktor Jung…” it was nearly a prayer on his lips.
Carl removed his hat and grinned.
“Yes, my friend. May I come in?”
Valentin flushed and stepped aside.
“Please. I’ve looked forward to seeing you again.”
No sooner had Valentin ushered Carl in and closed the door, he felt himself seized in strong arms and dragged into a searing kiss. Valentin clutched desperately at his coat until they parted for air.
“I’ve missed you so…” Valentin said, resting his head on Carl’s shoulder.
“And I you, my little love.”
Carl held him a moment, then kissed him tenderly on the forehead, stepping back.
“Let me see you.”
Valentin took his hat and coat, setting them neatly on the chair. He suddenly feet very underdressed in only his shirtsleeves. He liked that feeling, especially when Carl looked at him so.
“Do I not look alright?” He nervously licked his lips.
“You look like a banquet to a starving man.”
Carl strode forward and seized him again, lifting him with surpassing ease. Valentin moaned softly as Carl carried him through to his bedroom.
“Will you eat me, starving man?” Valentin whispered into Carl’s neck.
“I will swallow you whole my dearest red riding hood,” he growled, settling Valentin back against the pillows. He straightened and threw his jacket to the side, heedless of where it fell.
Valentin quivered under Carl’s heated gaze. Oh how he wanted to be devoured whole.
“Show me,” he said.
Carl smiled at him and ran his thumb over his moustache, neatening it. He carefully removed his glasses and set them on table next to Valentin’s bed.
“As you command.”
Carl eagerly fell upon Valentin, lips and hands everywhere at once. Valentin cried out when Carl’s teeth nipped savagely down his neck but pleaded for more. He pleaded for more when Carl’s fingers began to tease under his shirt. He pleaded until Carl almost brutally wrenched him free of it.
“Will you eat me now?” Valentin breathed.
“No, my dearest. Not yet…”
Carl stroked and kissed every inch of exposed skin, licked each freckle, worshipped every part, until Valentin was sobbing and writhing beneath him.
“Please Carl… please… ”
“As you command.”
Carl swiftly undid the buttons of Valentin’s trousers and summarily shoved them down his thighs. He moaned at the sight of Valentin’s cock popping free of his clothing.
“You are beyond beautiful,” he moaned as he bent to take it fully into his mouth.
Valentin wound his fingers in Carl’s hair, crying out in need. He was so overheated he could barely stand it. Carl’s mouth was a wild, forbidden pleasure. His ruin and his most deep desire. He could not stop himself from pushing up into that most perfect and decadent heat and Carl did not stop him. In truth, Carl simply swallowed him down further. Valentin could scarcely endure the pleasure.
“Yes… yes… devour me… oh!”
Valentin peaked, thrashing wildly. Carl held him down fast, his large hands firmly gripping his hips. Valentin could feel him swallowing and moaned. It was growing to be too much for him to bear. He collapsed back into the pillows, gasping out Carl’s name still gently pulling at his hair. Carl carefully let Valentin free of his lips, kissing the tip of his spent member with great reverence. He pulled Valentin up into his arms and kissed him again, teasing his tongue into Valentin’s mouth so he could taste himself. Valentin sucked on it greedily, pulling on Carl’s shirt. He made an unhappy noise when Carl pulled away from him.
“Let me get you out of your shoes and trousers, my beauty. I want another helping of you.”
Valentin laughed and began wriggling out of his clothes, eager for another go.
THESE TWO, I CAN”T
THIS SHIP WILL SAIL THE SEA OF MY HEART FOREVER AND YOU WILL NEVER STOP IT!
YOU’LL BE SAFE IN MY HEART AND MY HEART WILL GO ON AND ON…
Stop laughing at your patient, Jung. You’re the one who prescribed physical activity in the first place.
Prometheus David 8 + cat!Charles. The messiest and forever-wip comic strip.
I finally suck it up and finish this in one sitting, just to get it out of my system, thus super messy and bad anatomy and all that. I vaguely remembered someone mentioned something like this (cat!Charles being swallowed by alien and then reborn into human hybrid form?).
Oh! This is perfect!
I WANT THIS. SOFA KING KAWAII.
~Would you mind?
Charles politely asks you to leave.
His boyfriend is not so polite. o_O’.
Just done another! ^_^’ So now there are two different versions of that ”super-quick Cherik manip inspired by this photoset I just reblogged from decemberdawn! ^_^” In typical indecisive fashion I can’t decide which one’s better. *d’oh*
ps. I feel like there should be text on this. Any ideas??
Happy tuesday! :)
they don’t really care where the cameras are do they
Michael’s face in the first picture says: You know I’m ginger ‘cause you saw my cock and therefore you saw my ginger pubes. How can you even admit to this with a “straight” face.
OMG Michael’s facial expression is KILLING ME.
This whole thing is so “mutant husbands”.
I love this because Michael is all “@.@ omg stop James”, and the Trollmaster just keeps going.
ugh… they’re husbands. don’t even deny it fassy.
Michael closed his eyes and laid his head back against the arm of the old sofa. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing, springs stuck into his back and stuffing missing, making uncomfortable dips in the cushions, but it was better than the hard ground that he’d been sleeping on for several weeks now.
Being on the run was beginning to take it’s toll on his body and his mind. He hadn’t even bothered to check the perimeter to see if there was enemies laying in wait for some poor fool, like him, to walk into the abandon farmhouse so they could attack and kill him. None of that even crossed his mind and before he knew it he was fast asleep, thrown into a world that didn’t exist, that wouldn’t exist.
“Will you come here and give me hand with this?” Michael asked the young man that had been watching him work for the past half hour or so. He looked up from the pile of hay he had his pitch fork buried in and turned to looked at the figure in the distance.
“How am I supposed to help when we only have one pitchfork?” The young man called back with a smile across his ruby lips.
Michael knew this man, boy rather, was the young master of the estate, home from college for the summer and being a farmhand who only trending to the horses, Michael had no right to ask him for help. If memory served him correctly the young man’s name was James.
“I don’t know,” Michael said honestly, “but if you do, I’ll give you something.”
“What is it you would give me?” James must have known he was of a much lower class than him but the way he voiced his question wasn’t as though he thought Michael had nothing to offer a rich boy like him. It was honest curiosity in his voice and that made Michael’s smile broaden.
“I’ll give you this,” He said holding up his hand as if he was actually holding something between his thumb and index finger, at James’ distance he couldn’t know if he really had anything at all.
“And what is that?” James asked squinting his eyes to try to see what Michael held.
“Help me and find out,” Michael grinned as he pretended to pocket the fake reward.
James stood his ground for a few more moments before he smiled and started down the steps and across the short distance between them. “Okay, how can I help?”
“You have hands, don’t you?” Michael leaned against the pitchfork and looked down at James’ hands which were both in his pockets. The boy responded by removing his hands from his pockets and holding them out for Michael’s inspection. They were beautifully fair, unmarked by hard labor and probably soft to hold.
Michael couldn’t pull his eyes away from those hands. He couldn’t help but imagine those hands draped around his neck or those fingertips ghosting over his bare chest as he hovered over James’ smaller frame or those short nails digging trails down his back as he arched and called out Michael’s name.
“What did you want them for?” James asked with a gentle laugh.
Michael swallowed hard, a better question was what didn’t he want those beautiful hands for. “This, take this,” he held out the pitchfork.
James looked at the tool’s wooden handle then walked closer to Michael and snatched the gloves from his workman’s belt. He pulled them on, glancing at Michael who was watching him expectantly, then grabbed the handle of the pitchfork. He looked at Michael again then dug the tool deeper into the pile of hay and lifted it. “Where to?”
Michael tried to suppress a smile as he pointed toward the large cart that was already over flowing with hay and stepped back out of the way.
James nodded and took a few steps closer to the cart, the pitchfork stacked high with hay. He tossed the hay onto the pile but all it did was slide right off, back onto the ground he had just moved it from. A frown stretched across his ruby lips when he looked over at Michael who was laughing at him.
“What’s so funny?”
“I knew that would happen,” Michael grinned taking back the pitchfork.
“To see if you would actually do it.”
James’ frown vanished and a smile took it’s place, a light laugh even escaped him.“Well, I helped you, what’s my reward? Knowing I helped someone?” James asked raising his eyebrows.
Michael woke with start having been ripped from the dream at the sound of gunfire, he immediately rolled off the sofa to get onto the ground and grab his gun. He switched off the safety and moved around the back of the sofa. He pressed his back to the back of the sofa so he was better covered and held his breath.
He waited, waited for any little noise to indicate movement in the farmhouse, a floorboard, a door hinge or even a deep breath. He could be safe, the gunfire could have been far off or even in his dream. God, knows he had woken to the same sound a million times before.
When he felt it was safe, he crawled around the side of the sofa and peered around the corner. He saw and heard no one so he rounded to the front of the sofa and waited then sat back on the sofa when he was sure no one was in the farmhouse, or at least not in this room.
He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was still holding as he switched the safety back on. He rested his head back on the arm and closed his eyes again, letting out another long, slow breath.
If it had been in his dream then why? He would never have shot James and they weren’t on a battlefield, they had been in the country somewhere, on an estate that no longer existed or never existed to begin with. Maybe it was because the last time he saw James, the last time he was about to kiss James, they were under heavy fire and separated and in the dream James’ reward was going to be a kiss.
this Tuesday is September 4th.
“Are you to be mine?”
There can never be enough despoilment to go with these images…
despoil ALL the McAvoys.
Believe me when I say goodbye
Forever is for good
Was it a dream?
Is this the only evidence that proves it?
TORTURE: It’s so sexy yet it’s so sad.
That’s anything McFassy for you.