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Sequel to Going Down
. These were initially posted as drabbles to
x_men100, the first for the open theme, second for the dialogue-only & blue
Mystique had slipped out sometime in the night. It didn't concern him; she would return. There was other work to be done.
Some hours gone, metal fragments rearranging themselves obediently on his desk, and he suddenly felt the familiar itch at the base of his skull. "Charles?" he said, reaching for the helmet.
Too far away.
He prepared himself, marshaled arguments, lined up points of debate, and felt them all tumble away like leaves when he understood what Charles wanted.
Afterwards, lying on the floor in a sated, disheveled mess, he touched his lips with his fingers and didn't weep.
"I'm going to hang up, Erik."
"Indeed? Before the trace is completed? You disappoint me."
"I won't—cooperate—with this."
"Come now, Charles. Rather late for qualms, isn't it?"
"The other—that was a mistake. It will not happen again."
"Mm. You've more lines around your mouth than you used to, dear one. Your lips, though, are as warm as ever..."
"Erik, that's not me, it's her—"
"One... makes do..."
A liquid sigh, thick with pleasure.
"Oh, God, no," voice cracking.
"Yes. Yes, Charles. Just reach out to me, it's not far—"—and, oh