
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/310919.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      X-Men_Evolution
  Character:
      Charles_Xavier, Pietro_Maximoff, Lance_Alvers
  Additional Tags:
      Abduction, Bondage, Blow_Jobs, Anal_Sex, Danger_Room, Asteroid_M.
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-01-02 Words: 1660
****** Trapped ******
by citizenjess_(givehimonemore)
Summary
     Magneto isn't the only person awaiting Charles' arrival on Asteroid
     M. Set during the season one finale. Charles/Quicksilver/Avalanche;
     implied Magneto/Charles.
Magneto's grip on the Blackbird is iron-clad, and Charles stops trying to
escape, simply allows the Master of Magnetism to land him snugly on the
asteroid's small observation deck, biding his time. He exits the aircraft
warily, his wheelchair making a soft whirring noise as it moves over the
slightly bumpy ground.
'Magneto,' he calls out with his mind, gearing himself up for the inevitable
confrontation with his old friend. A shuffling sound interrupts his
concentration. Gaze snapping up, he quickly realizes the source of the
disturbance: Pietro Maximoff, and his fellow Brotherhood cohort, Lance Alvers.
Lance's expression is immediately obstinate, his posture vaguely threatening.
"Well, well, lookie what Magneto dragged in," he jokes, a grin on his face. He
purposely walks behind Charles' wheelchair, and Charles wills himself not to
swivel his head, not to take the obvious bait. "What d'you think we should do
with him, Pietro?"
The slightly smaller boy gives Charles a once-over, his eyes pale, his mouth in
a haughty frown. He watches as Lance pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and
winds it around the professor's head, blocking his sight. "What are you doing?"
Pietro asks, blinking in surprise.
Lance finishes securing the blindfold and tugs out more fabric from his
pockets. "He's our prisoner, man," he smirks, and Charles tries not to panic
when he feels the shaggy-haired boy begin to bind his wrists to the arms of his
chair. "We can do whatever we want with him."
Charles hears Pietro give a small sigh. "Sorry, Lance," he retorts, "but my
dad's orders were not to harm him." He takes in the seated man's bound frame,
however, and tilts his head, though Charles is unable to see it. "I guess,
though, that we could rough him up a bit," Pietro muses, and Lance chuckles
darkly.
"How do we know he's not gonna try any of his weird head games on us, though?"
Charles purses his lips, beginning to concoct a promise that he would never
manipulate someone like that if he can help it, but Pietro beats him to the
punch.
"I've got an idea." He hears the inertia of the younger boy picking up speed,
and only scant seconds later, he can tell that Pietro has likely just been from
one end of the asteroid to the other and back again. "My dad said it'd do the
trick," Pietro boasted; before Charles could figure out what 'it' was, he felt
something pressing slightly down and around his head, over his ears, coming to
rest along his jaw. "It's s'posed to block his telepathy," Pietro smirks, and
Charles bites back a worried gasp, because it does. It's one thing for Magneto
to block his own thoughts off from Charles with his helmet, but it's quite
another for all of Charles' attempts to reach out and connect with other minds
to be blocked. The air feels cold and damp around him, suddenly. He shivers.
"I don't think he likes that very much." Lance's voice is slightly tinny, and
sounds further away than it is. Charles has remained stoic and silent up to
this point, but he can't help the surprised groan that Lance elicits by shoving
hard at his chest. "Do you?" Lance demands, and Charles wets his lips.
"I beseech you, gentlemen, ... violence solves nothing. If you'll untie me, I'm
sure we can reach some sort of peaceable accord ..."
"Spoken like a true brainiac," Lance snorts. "Only one problem, though, Prof:
We're no gentlemen." Charles feels his tie being fumbled with, and tries
unsuccessfully to move his wrists. "Wanna watch him suck me off?" the dark-
haired boy asks Pietro, and it feels as though the helmet compresses against
his skull a bit.
Pietro's voice is throatier than usual now. "Do it," he urges, and Charles
struggles when he hears Lance unzip his pants, to no avail. "Stop fighting
this, Professor," Lance orders him. He brings his cock to Charles' mouth,
forcing it to brush against the older man's lips. "Suck it," he barks, and then
grips the back of Charles' head, forcing him to comply. "Don't try to bite me
or anything like that, either," Lance continues, and then he groans when
Charles' unwitting ministrations begin to take effect. "Aaahh, yeah ... I think
he's had practice, don't you, Pietro?"
Pietro snorts. "My dad didn't just bring him here to play chess." Charles
flushes a bit at the insinuation, but Lance is right there, bearing down on his
head, forcing him to take him deeper into his mouth, and he obeys, helplessly,
hoping that this will be over sooner rather than later. "S-swallow it," Lance
bites out, and then he's coming into Charles' mouth, and it leaves a bitter
aftertaste on Charles' tongue. Lance pulls away and slaps his cheek lightly.
"He's good at this," he announces to Pietro. His gaze slides downwards and he
grins wickedly. "He likes it, too. Look."
The first pinch to one of Charles' nipples makes him gasp outright. "Like
that?" Lance asks, and then, without waiting for an answer, he's twisting and
kneading at Charles' nipples through his shirt, forcing them into hardened
nubs. Charles pants, biting his lip in humiliation, but both he and Lance know
that he's getting something out of this. "He's hard, too," Lance announces, and
Charles feels Lance grasping at his cock, hears him fumbling noisily with the
zipper. "You should come sit on him, Pietro," Lance infers. "Come sit on his
cock and ride it."
Pietro makes a strange sound that Charles thinks might be fear. "Lance, c'mon,
maybe this has gone far enough ... my dad's gonna be pissed enough already," he
stammers. There's little dialogue between the two boys after that for several
long moments; Charles suspects that Lance has begun to attempt to coerce Pietro
into doing what he's suggested. "C'mon, Pietro ... it'd be really hot ..." he
hears Lance faintly murmur. Once again, he shudders, wondering how everything
has come to this.
The touch to his lower arm makes him jump. "Gonna need some lube or something,"
Pietro murmurs close-ish to his ear, assuming the boy is sizing him up. He
hears Lance make a faint sound of disgust. "Maybe my dad has some. Hang on."
There's another short span of silence, and then Pietro is there anew, and
Charles can hear him quietly untwisting the cap from a container. He shivers.
"Pietro." His voice is quiet, plaintive, and he senses even without the aid of
his telepathy that Magneto's son hesitates. "Don't do this. Please."
"Right, listen to the good professor, Pietro," Lance sing-songs, and the
mockery seems to encourage Pietro's loyalty better than Charles' pleading can.
He hears vague noises associated with Pietro opening himself up with his
fingers, hears Lance's breath catch in his throat ("fuck, that's hot, man").
Pietro's weight added to his chair tips it slightly until the boy can get his
bearings, and Charles can hear him breathing kind of hard, and all of the space
around him feels like it's tight and pressing closer and closer.
"P-Pietro ..." he murmurs, but Pietro is starting to lower himself onto
Charles' cock now, and Charles can tell that his ass hole is slicked up. "God,
fuck, oh fuck, it h-hurts," Pietro yowls, and Charles bites his lip hard enough
to draw blood. "H-he's in, I think," Pietro stutters, and Charles releases a
shaky breath because he can feel it, too.
"Fuck him, Professor," Lance urges, and Charles can feel Pietro start to grind
and bounce atop his lap. "Fuck his pretty little ass." Pietro's movements
quickly grow more pointed, and the boy caterwauls and whines loudly as he's
penetrated repeatedly. When Charles hears Pietro complain that "aaahh, Lance,
I'm tipping backwards!", Lance outright laughs. "S'okay, I've got you, buddy."
Charles can hear flesh sliding against flesh, and guesses that Lance has begun
to jerk the younger boy off while Charles' cock continues to fuck him.
As his orgasm nears, Charles' breath comes in staggered, punctuated moans. His
fingers curl desperately around the arms of his chair; his legs remain useless
and permanently numb underneath Pietro, who is keening and sobbing on his lap,
things like, "hurts, feels so good, oh my God, yes, yes" pouring from his
mouth. When Charles does come, he can't tell whether he beats Pietro to the
punch or not; he's moaning, and Pietro is moaning, and Lance is muttering
darkly near his ear ("didn't know you had it in you, Professor"), and then
everything recedes into the darkness.
 
*
 
"Danger Room sequence: 'Asteroid M. encounter' complete. Powering down." The
tell-tale whirring of the room responding to the automatic command calls forth
large ceiling lights, and Charles blinks as his eyesight adjusts.
Magneto saunters out of the corner, arms across his chest, a slow grin across
his face. "It's getting better at its people configurations," he comments idly.
"Both the Quicksilver and Avalanche simulations were ... quite realistic."
Charles watches as small metal pinchers come down from the ceiling and unbind
his wrists, the blindfold already having been removed. "Indeed," he replies,
and licks his lips. "If I didn't know better, I'd think they were really here."
Magneto floats toward him, carefully looking Charles up and down. "It's only
me," he says softly, and the other man smiles, and then yawns a little. "Tired,
Charles?" Magneto comments idly, and Charles straightens in his chair.
"No, not particularly."
"Well, good." Magneto's eyes flash. When Charles hands him back his helmet, he
tucks it under his arm, and then, bending down, props Charles' chin upon two
fingers, tilting his head up and claiming the other man's mouth in his. "I
hoped you still had some fight left in you," the Master of Magnetism
insinuates, and now Charles can see the other man's erection tenting the fabric
of his uniform. He reaches out and presses a hand to Magneto's crotch, and
Magneto groans appreciatively. "Pace yourself, Charles," he grins. "It's going
to be a long night yet."
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