The end is near. Thank you again to everyone who invested some time in this; for all you do, this slash's for you.

Disclaimers: They aren't mine. Have a Marvel-ous time attempting to sue me.

Picture if you will. . . Xavier quickly lifted himself to the chair, and left. He wasn't sure if the sounds he left were sobs or growls. It didn't matter.

(Alas, poor Magnus, I knew him biblically, Logan.)
by Lucretia Borgia

Logan remained in the library, pacing and muttering to himself. After he left the room, Xavier heard a break--a vase, or a window, maybe. He stopped, and contemplated returning. He surprised himself, considering how much the other man's esteem meant to him. He wanted Logan's respect, loyalty, admiration. Wolverine, to a great extent, was a good reflection of the X-men, the mutant community. Scott would always be the shining reflection of Xavier himself, but Wolverine was that tenuous link to the outside world. Xavier and the X-men needed him.

And, Xavier realized, Logan knew it. Logan relished his position as resident loner; Remy's surly reputation threatened him deeply. He thrived on the silent respect and, to some extent, deference, given to him by his peers. He lived his life to earn it.

Xavier wanted to return to Logan. He wanted to smile and wink conspiratorially. It was important for both of them to have the solid camaraderie Xavier feared this incident threatened. He should return to Logan, before Logan left for the Danger Room, alone . . or, Xavier thought, not alone. He wasn't sure which was worse. His energies, so scattered and  unchanneled, were dangerous for himself and others. Xavier wanted to return to Logan.

But Xavier heard Magnus leaving. Then he left.

Without conscious thought, Xavier raced upstairs to a room he knew would be empty. He wheeled into the room adjoining his, Magnus' room, to find the bed stripped and Magnus' belongings, like their owner, gone. Absently, he looked in the cabinet to see if Magnus left the worn copy of Hamlet, as a sort of poignant reminder. He hadn't. Magnus was not sentimental. Neither, Xavier remembered, was he.

He wheeled into his own room, carefully removing his clothes before turning off the lights and climbing into bed. He intended to shower, but was too exhausted. Xavier smelled his shirt before putting it in the hamper. He only smelled himself. Magnus, truly, was gone.

Staring into the black, at an invisible ceiling, Xavier hummed tunelessly to himself. His head throbbed. His hands, almost of their own accord, drifted to his chest, ghosting over the ribcage, returning to gently tease flat nipples. He thought of Magnus. He didn't picture anything erotic, nothing like what happened that afternoon. He thought of Magnus with his shoulders back, chin up. Such a characteristic pose. A clean, presented front. In battle, Magneto's muscles were lax; Xavier wondered if anyone else ever noticed that. Using his powers, Magneto was as fluid and unselfconscious as  Charles. He was much more guarded in the business of everyday life.

Xavier pictured the hint of Magnus' dimple as his nails teased wiry pubic hair. He thought of the shadow of Magnus' beard as his hand reached his cock. Xavier closed his eyes, his hips pumping of their own accord as he thought of the pale blue veins on Magnus' wrist; he focused intently on their rise and fall as Magnus turned the pages in a book, pointed an accusatory finger, clenched a fist. The delicate tendons in Magnus' wrist were followed up the strong forearm as Xavier slowed his strokes. His other hand reached to fondle his testicles.

The double pull of cock and balls had Charles choking back a moan. He opened his mouth to take in a deep breath, and the sudden parting of wet lips reminded him of the sounds Magnus made this afternoon, sucking Charles' chest. Xavier immediately removed his hands, rubbing them safely over his scalp as he shook his head, deliberately removing that memory from his mind. He wouldn't use Magnus this way. He knew Magnus wanted him, had loved what happened this afternoon as much as he did. Still . . .

The warm, heavy weight that settled onto him was almost, almost, unexpected. Xavier kept his eyes closed. He felt the furred chest settling on his own, felt his torso straddled by strong thighs which quickly settled lower, where Xavier couldn't feel them, as a persistent mouth attached itself to the tender juncture of his ribcage. Arms, strong arms, steady arms, reached up to grasp his own, as he darted them out of reach, instead burying them in the tangle of thick, loose curls.

"Thank God," Magneto said directly into Charles' abdomen. The vibrations made Charles squirm, hold tighter to his lover's casual mane, and smile. He was happy. He dared to look down, Magnus barely visible in the darkness. As his eyes adjusted to the shadows, he recognized the planes of his friend's forehead as it bobbed on his chest.

"I thought you were staying away from me," Charles seriously teased.

"No," Magnus replied.

Xavier assumed more of an answer was forthcoming, but he was apparently wrong, as Magnus only moved up his chest and settled into his neck, giving the hickey on his belly a twin on his jaw.

"You said you would stay away from me," he persisted.

"I lied."

Magnus then took Xavier's mouth savagely, plundering the wet depths with a ferocity altogether missing from their earlier encounter. His tongue tangled with Xavier's own before pushing in to discover the soft palate, the ridge of Xavier's teeth, the soft, slick back of his gums. . The new position had their nipples, now erect, brushing chaotically, further stimulating both men. As he tongue fucked Xavier, Magneto's arms pinned him to the bed.

Xavier threaded their fingers as he eagerly met Magnus' thrusts, now echoing throughout his body. From the firm ridges of his abdominals to the straining tendons of his neck, every fiber seemed to be focused on devouring Xavier. Of course, Xavier realized, that's exactly what he was doing. Consuming him.

Magnus slowed as he felt himself approach completion. He didn't want to end this way. He wanted to be inside Charles. The clarity of that want, that resolve, shocked him slightly. As he parted with Charles' bruised mouth, panting heavily, he focused the dizzying magnetic spectrum to a clearer, more muted portrait. He looked directly into eyes open, nearly dilated to black. This was due to the darkness as well as arousal, he knew. He gathered himself, blinking slowly. He wanted to ask Charles, ask Charles if he could fuck him.

Then he remembered he didn't have to. There was a good chance Charles already knew what he wanted to do, and with how much passion and need. He tried to block thoughts of himself, buried balls deep in his friend, thrusting powerfully as Charles came over his belly and chest. He tried to stop the lewd talk he usually disdained in bed . . how he wanted to fuck Charles into next week, how he wanted Charles to feel him next month, how he wanted Charles to taste him next year. He wanted to explode inside Charles, lose himself and never come out. Magnus tried to block these desires. In  vain. He wanted Charles with a passion he knew--knew--he'd lost. Charles should be insulted, disgusted, to be the object of such base desires. Magnus, ashamed, tried to tuck his chin into his chest without breaking the sweaty embrace in which he was locked.

Xavier twisted and ducked so as to bring their faces into alignment again. "Tell me what you want," he said, knowing the answer, needing to hear it out loud.

"No . . I . . ," Magnus resumed leaving wet, open kisses on Charles' lips. "You . . ." He couldn't finish.

"I want it, too. Tell me what I want." The calm of his own throaty whisper surprised Charles.

Magnus took his mouth again, thrusting his tongue in deep, now tasting the sides of his mouth. Charles felt his cheeks stretch under Magnus' tongue, and arched under him fiercely. Their chests were slick now, with sweat and saliva, and the hair on Magnus' chest rubbed and clung teasingly against his own, smooth torso. Magnus was shivering, still shaking his head, still refusing to say what it was he wanted.

"Tell me you love me," Charles said.

"I can't." These words were clear, and came out in a rush of breath. Magnus did, of course, love him. He loved him deeply, with surprisingly few reservations. Both men knew this.

"So lie," Charles answered.

Magneto responded by abruptly breaking the embrace. Xavier briefly panicked; the depth of his own need, so clearly communicated, may have scared his partner.

Magnus, it turned out, was simply convinced. He refused to look at Xavier's face--the swollen lips, open and now caressed by Xavier's own tongue. He didn't want to end like this. Instead, he sat firmly on his haunches, before arranging Xavier's limp legs so he sat between them. He took his hands from Charles' grip, and caressed his thighs, wishing Charles could feel the tenderness in his strokes, the wonder at being able to touch the soft skin. He wanted Charles to know he loved him.

"I know, Magnus." And he did.

Magneto didn't know how much Xavier could feel below his waist. He lifted Charles' legs to hook over his shoulders, pressing a kiss to each knee as it neared his face. He rubbed his jaw over the tender skin, wishing Charles could feel the stubble. His eyes caught a shimmer of movement, and he recognized Xavier blindly fumbling for the fallen bottle of aloe vera lotion he kept on his bedside table. The reality of the situation set in, and Magnus realized Charles knew exactly what he wanted, and wanted the same thing. Then he looked directly at Charles, to find not the hot, flushed face  he left minutes earlier, but a welcoming, cool serenity.

"Yes," Xavier said.

Magneto needed no further encouragement. He swiped the clear bottle from Xavier's outstretched arm, squeezing it with shaking hands. The cool gel in his palm steadied him somewhat. He generously lubricated his cock, the slippery gel and his own precome dripping onto the belly beneath him, sliding into Xavier's navel. The image was unbelievably erotic, and only Xavier's projected voice ("now") brought Magnus out of a hard daze.

Squeezing more gel onto his hand, Magneto found Xavier's entrance immediately. He gently probed around the ring, making Xavier's hesitant flesh accustomed to his hand. Xavier was whimpering now, even his projected thoughts a series of "oh." Magnus slowly, slowly, slipped his index finger into Xavier's tight hole.

Xavier, unable to feel his legs or the hand that must have been massaging the crease between his ass and thigh, stilled at the unfamiliar intrusion. It wasn't uncomfortable (just one finger) but gave him momentary pause. He resumed movement when Magnus did, flexing and moving his finger inside. Magnus pulled out before adding another finger, this causing discomfort. Magnus continued to look searchingly at Charles for the slightest hint of hesitation. Finding it, he stopped. This cessation of activity relaxed Xavier more than the gentle massage. He saw Magnus' strong, veined cock quivering with need and glistening with sweat, gel and precome. Despite this obvious desire, Magnus stopped because Xavier needed time to adjust. The inherent, immediate compassion nearly undid him.

Feeling Charles relax, Magneto resumed the slow, sensuous scissoring motion with his fingers. The movement was so steady, Xavier didn't stop his litany of breathy "ohs" when Magnus entered a third finger. His entire hand was thrusting against Charles now, the pulsing visible from his wrist, invisible beneath Charles' balls, through Magneto's own forearm and up to his shoulder. He isolated each movement, drawing out his pleasure.

He removed his hand and positioned himself to enter Charles. The move required a short readjustment of Charles' lower torso to his own thighs, accomplished with a grunt and, Magnus noticed, an open-mouthed smile from his lover. Charles was ready.

"Yes," Xavier spoke aloud.

Magnus found Xavier's pucker and thrust in effortlessly. The initial shock, magnified by the audible slap of his balls against Xavier's unyielding, unfeeling ass, caused him to stop, and gasp.

This was wonderful, Xavier thought, forgetting to project his awe, belatedly realizing he didn't have to. He felt full, complete. Magnus was inside him, only him, loving him with a ferocious tenderness that literally took his breath away. This was all he wanted. This was all that mattered.

Magneto felt blissfully lost and powerfully centered, all at once. Charles was tighter, hotter, more present than he imagined. He moved his hands along Charles' shoulders and arms, resting them on his open palms. Charles took the invitation and entwined their fingers. The channel contracted as Charles awkwardly flexed his muscles.

Magneto resigned himself to his immediate completion. He began to thrust quickly, impaling Charles.

One thrust accidentally bumped Xavier's prostate. He gasped violently at the unbearable spark of pleasure, and as Magnus manipulated the tip of his engorged cock to hit the spot again, Xavier began to shake his head, unable to still himself in such an assault. He was thrusting, unconsciously, to meet Magnus' pounding cock, the slap of balls on ass punctuating the staccato breathing and short exclamations from both men.

Xavier knew Magnus was coming moments before Magnus himself knew. He felt the burst of semen pulse through Magnus' cock, hardening it further along his own inner walls, the sweet, sweet pain quickening. He felt the hot,  unbearably hot and sticky substance beat into his channel until it ran out his ass. Xavier continued thrusting, not wanting to lose the semen he knew must be dripping from his own ass to Magnus' balls, back to his own ass cheeks or on his bed. The lack of leverage given by his impotent legs, now falling from Magnus' shoulders, preceded the vain attempt. He, simply, didn't want this to end.

Xavier didn't know he spoke aloud, a prospect that awed and frightened him. He was still loosely attuned to Magnus' mind, but had let his wander at the prospect of his friend coming, so powerfully, inside him. He didn't want this to end.

"Yes, you do." Magnus' voice wasn't clear, he was still descending from orgasm, but it was sure. Xavier, minutely realizing he was right, said nothing.

Magneto stayed inside Charles until his thighs rebelled and began to spasm under the weight of Charles' lower body. He slipped out of Charles, the abrupt noise lost in the eloquent sighs of both men. Magneto felt himself drop his full weight on Charles, the pleasant strength beneath him now familiar. He wanted to go back inside and lose himself forever. Forever.

He felt, rather than saw, Charles smile at that. At the same time, he felt the searing cock against his abdomen. Charles hadn't climaxed. His voice was a pleasant breath nuzzled in the crook of Charles' neck. "You have an erection."


Magneto stretched, knowing the slight movement would stimulate his lover. At Charles' whimper, Magneto, improbably, felt himself begin to harden again, and shimmied down the length of Charles' body, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. When his lazy mouth reached Charles' navel, he dipped in his tongue. He tasted Charles, strong and earthy, the cool balm of the aloe vera they used as lubricant, and, faintly, himself. The sinuous pleasure of their mixed scents, tastes, further aroused him. His mouth descended again on Charles' belly button, this time with more pressure,  sucking out the liquid cooling in the indentation. Magneto thrashed his head back and forth, rimming the navel with his teeth, hard enough to leave marks. His tongue plunged in a final time, stretching the puckered pleats of Charles' skin while his nose rubbed gently against the quivering abdomen.

Reluctantly moving himself from Charles' navel, Magneto's chin bumped into the hot, bobbing presence of Charles' cock. That slight pressure earned a moan from Charles, and a thoughtful glance upward from Magneto. He did this to Charles, made him hard and eager and happy. Wanting to preserve this strangely austere moment, he rubbed his stubbled chin over the iron silk at the top of Charles' cock. Charles nearly began humping his neck, grabbing for purchase on Magnus' shoulders and biting his lip in a concentrated effort to control his reaction.

But Magneto was in too indulgent a mood to tease. He ducked his head, nuzzling Charles' crotch, burying his nose in the damp pubic hair, faintly marked with his own scent. Then he nosed the jutting cock, wetly kissing his way to the top. Charles' shaft now well lubricated, Magneto chanced one glance to Charles face. His eyes were closed, but not pinched. He looked like he was dreaming, the warm smile completing the beatific countenance. Charles' hands continued to gently knead Magneto's shoulders, comforting and encouraging him.

Magneto took the burning head of Charles' cock into his mouth easily, precome allowing the member to slide in and out along his lips. Magneto felt Charles relax minutely as he licked and swirled his tongue around the head before slowly engulfing the organ. Magneto carefully controlled his breathing and opened his throat, adjusting to the unfamiliar intrusion. As he became comfortable with Charles' cock in his mouth, he swallowed the shaft to the root, again burying his nose in black, spiky pubic hair.

He swallowed. Charles gasp-yelled. The fingers digging into Magneto's shoulders tightened enough to leave bruises, Charles bucking up into the throat massaging his cock. The dead weight of Charles legs' allowed Magneto more control over the situation than he would've had could Charles arch his back completely off the bed. Magneto didn't gag, didn't pull back. He did reach up from Charles' hips to massage his forearms, encouraging Charles to loosen his grip. Then Magneto just continued the slow sucking tension until he and Charles fell into a rolling, thrusting rhythm.

Xavier was in heaven. Heaven was Magnus' mouth. Magnus' hands. Magnus' cock, which, judging by the awkward, jumpy thrusts against the bedsheets between his legs, was again engorged. Xavier blissfully closed his eyes again, and  felt Magnus smile around his shaft. He opened his mouth and lifted his hands to warn Magnus--to push him off or push him down, he wasn't sure. That moist heat was everything, and Xavier didn't want to lose it, but knew how hard he was going to come, and how little Magnus would likely enjoy it.

Magnus batted his hands away easily, understanding the motion and taking a full breath before closing his mouth a final time around Xavier's cock. Xavier came harder than he could remember coming, gushing what felt like gallons down Magnus' willing throat, leaking out out of the sides of his mouth, from the smooth underside of his tongue. That tongue continued lapping as Xavier's cock softened and body slowed its orgasmic spasms.

Magnus had come again. He winced as he drug himself up the length of Charles' body; his weary cock was still sensitive and the damp sheets must have been irritating. He dropped his head again into Xavier's throat, inhaling deeply, smoothly.

Magnus kept his arms prone near Xavier's head, while Xavier hummed like he had earlier this evening, before Magnus came. He smiled at the base double-entendre and stroked Magnus' hair, smoothing out the bed-tangles and sweaty cowlicks. Soon, Magnus' breathing slowed into a steady rhythm and Xavier knew he was asleep. Magnus' body a heavy, comfortable weight, Xavier allowed himself to sleep, perchance to dream.

Magneto wasn't asleep, of course. He drank in the scent of Charles here, in the delicate tendon of his shoulder. He attuned his body to feel the texture of Charles' torso. He committed the slow finger-combing Charles was doing to his hair to happy memory. He promised himself to remember the odd lulling melody Charles sang himself to sleep with. He controlled his breathing until Charles' light snore was steady.

Magneto, assembling clothes he hastily threw off earlier--when he watched Charles pleasure himself, knowing he was figuring in the fantasy--left. He lingered at the open window, feeling like a character in another Shakespeare drama, much less layered. Clearer. He knew Xavier probably knew he was leaving . . .

"I know." The slight monotone came from the bed, Xavier not having moved. "What . . "

He didn't know what Charles would ask him--what would they do now, perhaps. He couldn't answer. He didn't know. They were both too old, too knowing, to pretend it didn't happen. Magneto just had to . .

"Leave." It wasn't a command. Charles just finished his sentence.

Magneto opened his mouth to speak, to say he loved Charles, that he knew Charles loved him . .

"I know. Just . . " The silence hung, like this afternoon after Wolverine interrupted them but without the tension or fear. Just resignation. " . . leave."

Magneto left.


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