Memories

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"Hello, Erik," Charles purred, pushing his head against Erik's hand. Erik almost groaned. Erik retracted his hand. But, then, something forced his hand back onto Charles, this time to his cheek. He even found himself leaning down, toward Charles's beautiful, red lips. Then, all at once, he realized why he was leaning toward the thing he desired most.

"Charles, stop," Erik ordered softly, barely able to speak with the telepathic hold Charles had on him. Charles pouted, sticking his bottom lip out. "But Erik, you know you want me. You love me. Why can't you just take what I'm willing to give you?" Charles asked, reaching up to pull Erik down.

"Because you need more time," Erik huffed, forcing himself to regain control from Charles and move away. Charles growled, a feral sound that resembled more of a sound of what Wolverine or Beast would make.

"So weak. You're too afraid to take what you want, admit what you feel. You can't even satisfy me because you are so weak," Charles said, but that voice wasn't Charles's anymore. It was that same voice that had killed all those men. It was dark, animalistic, heavy, and it made Erik's skin crawl.

Charles's beautiful, warm blue eyes shifted, becoming cold and hard. They were like Frost's eyes, in a way, but crueler. It wasn't his Charles.

"No, you're right. I'm not Charles. I'm Onslaught," the fake-Charles announced as if he read Erik's mind, smirking like the cat who ate the canary.

Emma had been right to be concerned. Everyone had been right. Charles's own demons had taken control of the sweet man, and left only this dark creature that called itself Onslaught.

But, while it was distressing for Charles to not be himself, Erik couldn't help but think that this was for the best. Erik could finally have his revenge on the human scum and ensure the safety of his species, with the help of Onslaught, and then turn Charles back to normal. Yes, this was good. Charles's ethics wouldn't be compromised, Erik gets his revenge, and they can still be together. No more compromises. Just justice.

"Oh, you are simply delectable with all those horrible thoughts in your head," Char- Onslaught said seductively, a smirk on his face as his tongue poked out to lick his lips. Erik's eyes followed the light pink tongue with appreciation, wanting nothing more than to ravish his love. Or, in this instance, his love's body.

"Take me now, Magneto, and then we can destroy the world. Together," Onslaught purred, and Erik was all too eager to please. Erik's month latched on to those beautiful, pink lips as his big hands traveled the small professor. Suddenly, Charles moved his legs without his arms. He moved his legs! He had control of his body again!

Erik's glee nearly overcame his lust, but was soon drowned out when Charles's once-sculpted legs, but had grown less muscular from disuse, wrapped around Erik's hips and their pelvises ground together. Any thoughts about anything other than fucking Onslaught were thrown out the window, carnal desires taking over Erik's mind. All he wanted to do was feel.

With Erik's eyes closed, he could almost forget this was Onslaught and not Charles. Onslaught knew exactly what Erik liked- just like Charles- and had set out to drive Erik's pleasure higher and higher. Onslaught did the same quirky little things as Charles, such as constantly going back to run his fingers through Erik's hair. Not to mention, it was the same body, same sound of his voice, and same taste. Yes, Erik could almost imagine Charles laying there with him.

Key word being almost.

Whenever the fantasy became overpowering, there would be something to remind him, such as how Onslaught moaned loudly. Charles was never a loud moaner. He'd make tiny little mewling sounds like a kitten. If a moan did escape him, he would blush and quiet down for a long time until Erik could coax out the quietest of sounds.

"Yes, Magneto, keep going," Onslaught moaned, and Erik suddenly was angry. Really angry. Erik's actions became more aggressive, more forced. His nibbles on Onslaught's skin became hard bites. His kisses became rough. His grip on Charles's body became harsh, his grip tightening painfully. There would certainly be bruises all over Charles's soft skin tomorrow.

Soon, their clothes were discarded on the ground, along with any reservations Erik had about screwing this dark Charles. Soon, there were no barriers between the two, and they were joined as one within moments. Their bodies came together in an unholy union, both surrendering to feelings best left alone.

As their passion rose higher and higher, lifting their moans of pleasure up to Heaven as if to taunt God and his angels, everyone in the mansion could sense there was something wrong. Emma knew there was something wrong when a mental shield was put between her and Erik's mind. Erik didn't have the skill or power of the mind to keep her out so well.

Something or someone was helping him.

Beast could smell a sort of evilness in the air, and Mystique could feel the cruelty that permeated the air. Jean also wasn't able to reach Erik, and Azazel and Janos had felt this sort of darkness too many times while with Shaw.

Something was horribly wrong.

But they could do nothing about it.

The feeling had only hit them when they reached the upper levels of the home, and when they'd tried to return to the floor that held Charles and Erik, the doors were locked. It was also useless for Hank or Alex or Scott to try to break down the door because the doors of the house were built to withstand powerful blasts and brute force.

They were stuck on the other side of the door, with no way of protecting Erik or Charles.