
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11405373.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      X-Men_(Alternate_Timeline_Movies)
  Relationship:
      Erik_Lehnsherr/Charles_Xavier
  Character:
      Erik_Lehnsherr, Charles_Xavier, Azazel_(X-Men), Raven_|_Mystique,
      Sebastian_Shaw
  Additional Tags:
      Anal, Blow_Jobs, First_Time, Alternate_Universe_-_Medieval, Dubious
      Consent, Honestly_Charles_What_Are_You_Thinking, Erik_Being_Cocky
  Collections:
      X-Men_Remix_Madness_2017
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-11 Words: 2118
****** Stag and Buck (Remix of Taking Game) ******
by Fullmetalcarer
Summary
     A beautiful young poacher is brought before King Erik. It would be a
     pity for such loveliness to perish on the scaffold. His Majesty has
     other plans for Charles.
Notes
     A different spin on Deeranger's delicious fic.
  This work was inspired by
      Taking_Game by Deeranger
King Erik surveyed the half dozen wretches kneeling in chains before him.
Poachers of the King's deer. A crime punishable by death.
"All of them to hang except the boy," said Erik. "You shall have mercy due to
your youth."
The boys mouth - his sinful red mouth - curved into an incredulous smile and he
babbled words of gratitude to his sovereign.
Erik beckoned Azazel over.
"Have him bathed and brought to my bedchamber."
Azazel bowed and exited. The church condemned the Sin of Sodom and Gomorrah.
God almighty destroyed those cities for their iniquities. Erik had no fear of
Azazel spilling his secret to the priests, he shared the same tastes. Besides,
even if he did, Erik held the prince bishops in the palm of his hand. Unless he
buggered a boy on the high altar at Eastertide, they dared not act against him.
When Erik had finished dispensing justice, he made his way to his chambers.
Azazel had already dismissed his servants. Erik opened then closed and locked
his chamber door. The boy startled at the sound and looked up, then immediately
lowered his gaze. He was kneeling in the middle of the room, scrubbed to within
an inch of his life and wearing nothing but a blue tunic. Clad in rags and
smeared in filth he had taken the eye, even amongst the perfumed, velvet clad
and bejewelled courtiers. Now . . . now he was a revelation.
His skin gleamed in the candlelight, pale as that of a princess. His eyes were
as blue, no, bluer, than the sapphires in Erik's circlet. His hair was dark and
shone like the silks of distant Cathay. And no rubies or cherries or the breast
of the robin could rival those plump lips for redness. Erik was reminded of the
fable of the Snow Girl.
"And the queen, being barren, did bargain with the spirits of the woods, and
she leant upon her ebony window frame, and she pricked her finger so a drop of
blood fell upon the snow, and she prayed the dark powers to grant her a babe
with skin as white as snow and hair as black as ebony and lips as red as
blood," he said.
The boy looked up again and this time he kept his eyes on Erik. He looked
scared. He was probably about fifteen or so. Erik stood directly in front of
him. The boy looked down again. Erik took hold of his chin and lifted his head.
"Look at me, boy. Tis a pity to waste such lovely eyes in gazing at the floor."
His cheeks flushed like the dog roses in June.
"I have spared your life, child. You owe me much gratitude."
"Yes, your majesty, I know this and I thank you and bless you and will remember
you in my prayers until the day I die," he said, soft and low.
His accent was rather finer than Erik had expected. There were many noble
families fallen on hard times. Perhaps this boy came from one of them.
"Stand up."
He stood. He was a good head shorter than Erik.
"What is your name?"
"Charles, your majesty."
"Charles."
It rolled off the tongue very nicely.
"Come sit with me and drink some wine, Charles."
"Your majesty does me too great an honour," stammered Charles.
He sat at the ivory inlaid table and Erik poured him wine in a golden goblet.
He drank, obviously not knowing that he should have waited for Erik to drink
first. A drop of red wine, less red than his lips, escaped the corner of his
mouth. The tip of a pink tongue chased it. Erik's cock twitched.
"You are a handsome lad, Charles."
Charles' blush deepened to crimson.
"Thank you, your majesty."
"One might almost say, beautiful."
Charles said nothing. Erik let his fingers rest atop the boy's hand. His
fingers were the only thing not elegant about him. They were short and stubby.
Erik ran his fingers up the warm, downy, freckled flesh of the boy's forearm
and under the wide sleeve of his tunic. Charles drew in a shuddering breath.
Erik pulled him to his feet and drew him to the bed. Here Charles stopped and
leant back, resisting Erik's hand. Erik could easily have overpowered him, but
he preferred to persuade.
"I am your king, Charles, you must obey me."
"Not . . . not if you require me to do that which is against God's law."
"As King, I was crowned and anointed by the Archbishop under God's grace. I
rule by divine authority. If I say a thing is sanctioned by holy writ, who are
you, a peasant and a thief, to gainsay me?"
The boy stood in silence, lips parted, breathing fast, fear animating his
features. Erik took him in his arms and pressed their bodies together. He felt
his warm, slim, supple body through the thin linen of his tunic. He put his
lips to Charles' ear.
"If I give the order a dozen soldiers will cut you down where you stand. I
might have you racked to death in my dungeons. I could run you through myself
and no one to say a word. Yet I offer you pleasure instead of pain. Do not
refuse my gift."
He took Charles' face in his hands. His eyes sparkled with tears. He looked
like a grieving angel. Erik kissed his mouth. He tasted of wine and youth. He
offered no resistence when his King slipped his tongue into his mouth. Erik
pulled back, catching the boy's bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a
little nip and a little tug.
He pushed Charles onto the bed. He collapsed, resistless. Erik knelt down
beside him and dragged the tunic over his head. Such pale skin, so much
whiteness, fields of snow dotted with the golden flowers of freckles. He was
thin; no wonder he was poaching the King's deer. Erik admired the slenderness
of his limbs, his delicate wrists and ankles. He was all sinew and fined-down-
to-nothing muscle. Lovely nipples. He was young enough not to have much body
hair. Lovely cock, lovely, lovely cock. He ran his hands all over Charles, all
over him, the boy gasping and trembling under his touch. He pinched his dark
nipples and patted his peony pink cock.
"Oh, aah, oh, oh, mmm," he moaned.
Erik divested himself of his robes. He lay down on top of Charles, the boy's
skinny, pale body seeming fragile as a flower in comparison with his own
tanned, muscular frame. He rutted against him, their cocks sliding together,
Erik fully erect, Charles half hard.
"See," whispered Erik, "It's not so terrible, is it? Your manhood's rousing
well enough."
"It's . . . it's a sin, my Lord."
"Are we not all sinners through Adam's fall? Yet may not all sins be redeemed
by God's grace? Are you denying divine grace, Charles?"
He gave his cock a hard squeeze. The breath hissed between Charles' teeth. Erik
couldn't wait any longer. He flipped Charles onto his front and dragged a
couple of silken cushions under his hips. He kissed and nuzzled Charles'
buttocks; they were as soft as the damask pillows they rested upon. He reached
for the flagon of warm oil and poured some onto his fingers. He parted Charles'
cheeks. There it was, the pink whorl of his anus.
Erik blew a stream of air upon the boy's taint. He shivered and cried out.
"Now to open the gates of paradise, my lovely one."
"No, sir, please, no," Charles sobbed.
"You dare say "no" to your King? Well, I'll pardon you, my sweet, for the sheer
glory of your arse."
Erik pushed his finger into heat and tightness. Charles fought for breath and
scrabbled at the sheets. He fingered him patiently, adding a second finger when
he'd loosened a little.
"Have you never had a finger up your arse before?"
"No, sir," he choked out.
"Not even your own?"
"Once, hnn, when I committed, ah, committed the son of Onan, I, ah, ah, ah, put
my finger, oooh, in myself."
Erik grinned. "Did you like it?"
"Yes, oooh, but I confessed and, mmm, the priest said it was a, oh, oh, a
grievous sin so I never, ah, did it again, aah."
"The priest probably committed the sin of Onan himself, thinking about you
putting your finger up your arse," said Erik, adding a third finger.
The boy was so tight he gave him a fourth finger before oiling up his cock.
"This will hurt. It'll help if you bear down and don't resist. The more you
fight, the more pain they'll be. Just give in and take it and it'll get
better."
Charles cried a little. Erik kissed away his tears and pushed in. Charles was
diabolically tight around his cock. Erik paused, partly to let Charles get used
to being sodomised, partly to avoid spilling his seed straightaway. He rolled
his hips, easing himself in and out of the boy. It felt delicious. Erik bent
and kissed the wings of Charles' shoulder-blades. Truly, he was an angel; a
fallen one due to Erik's ministrations.
Charles suddenly quivered and moaned. Erik had touched the place inside him
that brought great pleasure. Erik kept thrusting at the same angle. Charles
writhed on his cock, sweat gilding his body like the gold leaf on the pages of
a psalter. Erik was losing control, thrusting harder and faster, making Charles
yelp with every stroke. He spent his seed inside the boy, gripping his bony
hips bruisingly tight and blaspheming like a heathen.
He recovered from the little death and pulled out of Charles as carefully as he
could. The boy still winced and tears trickled down his scarlet cheeks. He
checked his hole. He was red and sore, but there was no tearing, no blood.
Erik rolled him over.
"You're alright, my little sweetheart, no damage done. I know it stings and
burns, but that will fade. You'll have an ache for few days, I daresay."
Charles was semi erect. Erik hesitated. He could have the boy finish himself
off with his hands. Erik could bring him off. Then there was the shameful
thing. More shameful even then sodomy. The cock and the anus were shameful
parts, so to perform unspeakable acts with them scarcely worsened the matter.
But the mouth was used to speak reason, to give the kiss of peace, to praise
God. To use the mouth in a loathsome way was abominable. But he wanted to, even
though it ill became a man to so do, to make of himself a vessel as a woman.
"I know what will make you forget the pain in your arse, dear one."
Erik slid down the bed until his face was level with Charles' half hard cock.
He grasped the base with his fingers and took the head in his mouth. Charles'
eyes widened and his mouth gaped. Erik licked and sucked and kissed and bobbed
his head. Charles tasted salty. The boy's hips jerked up involuntarily. Erik
put his other hand on Charles' hipbone to keep him still. Charles' gasps and
groans were a hymn to Erik's skills. He was just a boy so it wasn't long before
his bitter seed was filling Erik's mouth and trickling down his chin.
Charles fell back on the bed, exhausted, Erik spat his seed into an embroidered
handkerchief and rinsed out his mouth with wine. He rubbed himself off with a
cloth and carefully cleaned Charles' arse. Charles flinched.
"Have some courage, little one." Erik gazed down at the beautiful boy. "Ah, but
you are a pretty thing. I'm much inclined to keep you for a while. I'll dress
you in silks and velvets and adorn you with gold and jewels. You'll sleep under
furs and feast like a little princeling morning, noon and night. What do you
say, Charles?"
"I'd be honoured, your majesty," said Charles and gave him a shy little smile.
Later that night, the King slept and Charles lay awake. He'd send word to Raven
as soon as he got the chance. He'd taken a massive risk, but Azazel's
information had been accurate and now Charles was the King's lover and embedded
in the heart of the court. Sooner or later he'd be able to get to Shaw, King
Erik's advisor. Before tonight, Charles had thought the King might have to die
with his counsellor. Now he wasn't so sure. Raven would say he was letting his
cock rule his head, but she hadn't just had her prick sucked by royalty.
He smiled at the sleeping King, then turned over, bit his lip at a twinge from
his arse, and fell asleep.
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