Chapter Text
It all started with a favour.
Not a regular favour, not like 'can I borrow a cup of sugar?'. Oh, no.
The kind of favour that fucks up your life.
And of course it was Charles.
Beautiful, oblivious, unattainable Charles.
How was Erik supposed to refuse?
~
It is a normal Saturday afternoon.
Erik is humming a terrible pop song that had gotten stuck in his head at the grocery store as he opens their apartment door with a flick of his fingers. Floating the heavy bags of ingredients over to their kitchen counter, Erik follows behind them, considering what he is going to cook for dinner. Maybe that creamy pasta Charles likes, he muses. I haven't made that for a while, and it's a chance to sneak vegetables into his diet. He laughs at himself. Since when did I become his parent?
With a start, he realises that Charles is sitting at the dining table, staring at Erik. His phone is on the table next to him, and he's chewing on a thumbnail, looking surprisingly serious. It's not often that Charles looks like that.
Erik feels a pulse of anxiety. "What?" he asks suspiciously. "Has something happened?"
Charles smiles, shaking off his previous expression like flicking a switch. "Nothing's wrong," he assures Erik. "Sorry. Nothing to be concerned about. I just want to talk to you."
Erik's heart sinks a little. Fuck, Charles must be moving out. He'd only just gotten used to the rhythms of living with the man, who had somewhat surprisingly become his best friend over the last year. Despite all of his terrible habits. Erik doesn't relish another long search for an appropriate roommate. And something deeper is stirring too, something like why, is it me? and don't leave.
"Erik?" Charles cuts in. "Why do you look so worried?"
Erik shakes his head. "I'm fine," he says, as he dumps the groceries on the counter and comes to join Charles, pulling out a dining chair. "What is it?" He'd rather the axe fall sooner rather than later, so he can start making plans. A treacherous thought worms its way into his brain. Maybe he's not moving out, maybe he's got a new partner that he wants to move in. Fuck!
Charles is looking a little unconvinced by Erik's words. "Really?" he asks, then bites his lip. "You look…" He trails off. "I could..?" He waggles his fingers near his temple; shorthand for using his telepathy.
"No," Erik replies, at once, and reinforces his shields around any 'Charles-related thoughts' quickly enough for Charles to look a little wounded.
"Just go ahead," Erik continues, "Sorry, I was just thinking about the apartment." He's sure Charles won't believe him — he'd hardly refuse for Charles to see his rent-related worries — but luckily Charles seems willing to let it go.
"Oh, it's not about the apartment at all, I'm terribly sorry if I led you astray," Charles apologises. "Well, it's maybe tangentially related, but only in so far that—" Erik's eyebrows shoot up and Charles stops abruptly. "Getting off-track, sorry." He shakes his head and tries again. "Um, to start at the beginning, you know how my TA work stops over the summer break? And I always struggle a bit with stretching my savings over the three months…" Charles looks guilty saying that.
Erik has learnt not to judge him about his less-than-prudent spending habits. At least not too much. It's not entirely his fault that he grew up in the lap of luxury, and was then unceremoniously kicked out on his ass by his parents the minute he decided to devote his life to mutation-related genetic studies instead of working for the family company. He'll get whatever inheritance his late father put aside for him when he turns twenty-one, and his lawyer has a good argument for his claim on the estate when Sharon and Kurt die, but for now, he's a grad student living week-to-week like the rest of them.
"Do you need to borrow money?" Erik asks. He's definitely not rolling in it himself, but his handyman work pays better than a teacher's assistant, and he actually knows how to live within his means. He's also willing to subsist on instant ramen for a few weeks if it means he can help Charles out with something he needs. Which he suddenly realises is humiliating, but simply the truth of the matter. "You don't have to make such a big deal of it," Erik adds. "I've never said no before."
Charles chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "And I truly appreciate that, my friend," he says, still looking a bit remorseful. "But no, I don't need to borrow any money this time."
Erik frowns. "Then..?"
Charles swallows. "I've actually found, ah, a different revenue stream, recently. For when my other work is slow."
"That's… good?" Erik's statement turns into a question. He can't tell why Charles is going into that now. It is good news though, for both of them. Anything that takes a bit of the pressure of being one dental emergency away from an empty bank account. "You've been holding out on me, then," he jokes. "And I ate that tub of expired hummus yesterday."
Charles looks aghast. "Don't do that!," he exclaims, slapping Erik's arm playfully. "How vile."
Erik shrugs. "It tasted fine. And I'm still here, aren't I?" Charles shakes his head wearily. "So, is this what you wanted to talk about? How you'll be making larger contributions to the grocery fund this summer?" He huffs out a breath. "Shit, never say you 'need to talk to me' like that again." Unless you are moving out and/or don't want to be friends anymore. But also please don't do that.
Charles chuckles in return. "I don't think I said that exactly," he corrects, softening his words as usual, even though he has an eidetic memory and could play the conversation back to Erik in full. "Anyway, that wasn't the key point of this discussion."
"Fuck me," Erik groans, leaning his chair onto its back legs. "Will you spit it out already?"
"I'm actually offering you an, um, well, an opportunity!" Charles says brightly. Erik stares at him, nonplussed. "To join me, in the aforementioned revenue stream," Charles clarifies. "If you're interested."
"Oh!" Erik is surprised. He hadn't seen that one coming. "More money is always good, especially if it fits around what I'm already doing." Charles smiles back at him. "Doing what?" Erik asks, curious, swinging back and forward on the chair.
"Ah." Instead of answering his question, Charles bites at his thumbnail. Erik starts to feel just a tinge of dread. He opens his mouth to speak, but Charles gets there first.
"You used to strip, right? For money, I mean." He smiles.
Alarms bells start ringing in Erik's head.
"Are you stripping?" Erik exclaims. "Fuck, Charles." An image slid instantly into his mind. The way Charles had looked in the club, the night they'd… The way he'd moved his body to the music, trailed his hands down his chest. His shirt becoming increasingly unbuttoned as the night wore on, revealing pale and creamy skin, and the dark line of hair beneath his navel that disappeared into his jeans. The bitten lips and too bright eyes, the way he'd looked at Erik when he'd caught Erik watching him.
And then, the way Erik had felt during those few months, on stage, under the lights. It hadn't been a terrible club he'd worked at, that was for sure, but there had been bad nights, contempt and grasping hands, patrons who had to be kicked out, offers that made his skin crawl. Nothing he couldn't handle. But for Charles, irrepressibly optimistic, cries at sentimental adverts, passionate about the driest research you could imagine, telepath Charles…
Erik knows Charles can take care of himself — whether it's freezing, mind-controlling, or subtle nudging, Charles is powerful enough to get himself out of any situation safely. But that doesn't protect him from the impact on his feelings or worldview, his hopes for the future…
"No, I'm not," Charles answers defensively, and Erik breathes a sigh of relief. But Charles is frowning. "I didn't think you were ashamed of it, though."
"I'm not," Erik assures him hurriedly. "It's whatever," he shrugs, "just work."
Charles laughs, but this time it has a slight edge to it. "You're only against me doing it, then." Erik is caught, scrambling for an explanation. Charles sighs. "Maybe this is a mistake," he says.
"No," Erik replies. "I only… with your telepathy, I thought it might affect you in a different way…"
Understanding dawns on Charles' face. "Oh," he says, softening. "I see. Well, that's not an issue with this."
"Can you just tell me what this is?" Erik asks. This whole conversation is doing my head in.
"Right." Charles straightens up. His tone becomes businesslike. "I've been making and sharing amateur porn videos. Online. You know OnlyFans?" He waits for a nod of recognition. "I, well, basically I have a bit of a following at this point."
Erik's vision goes a bit wonky. There's a slight ringing in his ears.
"And, I wanted to ask," Charles continues, "if you'd join me."
~
When Erik first met Charles, it was at the end of a string of disappointing meetings with prospective housemates. Erik vaguely recognised him from around campus, but also thought he looked like a bit of an asshole, talking animatedly with someone different every time, and dressed like a studious old man. Erik's feelings about him shifted when he noticed the pansexual flag and mutant support pins attached to his expensive-looking leather satchel, as Charles wandered around the apartment, but only a little.
He might still be a pain in the ass, Erik thought to himself.
He was certainly on the chatty side, which Erik was sure he'd get sick of quickly. And he kept touching Erik's things, and putting them back haphazardly. Then, when Erik was on the brink of telling him to go home, Charles accidentally knocked over a miniature metal sculpture of the Rheinturm, from Erik's childhood. Without even thinking, Erik had reached out from across the room to stop it from hitting the floor, and as Charles looked at him in delight, Erik simultaneously heard a voice, quite clearly addressing him, from inside his head.
I'm like you, the voice said, in Charles' accent. What an incredible mutation. Telekinesis?
After a couple hours of explaining and demonstrating their respective mutant abilities, Erik had been surprised to hear himself offering Charles the second bedroom, and he'd lived there since.
Over their time as roommates they had gotten closer (not withstanding their frequent squabbles, which ranged from the validity of mutant ally organisations to what constitutes a clean kitchen), to the point that they considered themselves best friends. The next year saw them spending the majority of their time together, if Charles wasn't trying his luck with a seemingly endless procession of attractive co-eds. When Erik first had an inkling that he wanted to be the one causing Charles to make all those noises he overheard at night, he had pushed down the feeling as far as it would go. He knew that Charles wouldn't go digging in his head without permission, but they communicated telepathically as much as was convenient, and Erik didn't want to ruin the contentment of their friendship and living arrangements. He was convinced he didn't have a much of a chance, anyway.
Then, six months ago, their friend Alex had roped them into going to a club as part of his birthday celebrations. Charles had been getting over the awkward end of a fling with a girl from the chemistry department, and drank even more than usual. Erik wasn't sure if his own drunken state was the result of Charles inadvertently projecting onto him, or just the secretly celebratory shots he'd downed. Either way, the night had ended with Charles in Erik's bed, and Erik, gloriously, finally, inside of Charles.
To Erik's regret, this state of affairs was never repeated, and Erik became increasingly aware that Charles had regarded it as an aberration — a casual, momentary, and possibly mistaken distraction from a less-than-stellar week. In the days that followed, Charles expressed his hope that it wouldn't change anything between them, and Erik had agreed. He'd got what he wanted, and their friendship was more important anyway.
Since then, Erik had worked at keeping any non-platonic thoughts about Charles locked up tight behind his mental shields, eventually requesting that they reduce their use of telepathic communication for fear of them leaking through. When Charles, visibly hurt but acquiescent, had enquired as to why Erik was suddenly changing their arrangement, Erik had made up a stupid half-lie about needing more privacy while he worked through some personal issues. Whether Charles believed him or not, he didn't push, and he was no longer as consistent a presence in Erik's head. They'd thankfully moved on from the slightly strained interactions that had followed that conversation, but Erik still feared that their friendship was now on shakier ground. It's for the best, he told himself. Better than losing what we have.
~
Erik is having trouble making sense of what is happening. His brain is still processing the idea of 'Charles' and 'porn'.
"Wait," he says, trying to remember what Charles said last. "You want me to create an OnlyFans page?"
"Well, no," Charles replies, "I want you to join mine."
Somehow, that's more confusing. "You want me to subscribe?" Erik asks.
It's not really what most people would consider an opportunity, although most people aren't as interested in seeing Charles naked, the way that Erik is. Although, Charles had mentioned 'a following', so maybe Erik's actually just one in a crowd. If so, why does he need my support? Maybe Charles just means he'll let Erik get in on the ground-floor of his soon-to-be empire of erotic entertainment. A co-founder of sorts. An adult-content tycoon.
"No, you idiot," Charles laughs, which Erik finds rather offensive. It's definitely the weirdest conversation he's had in a while, it's not his fault he can't follow it precisely.
"I get comments and 'likes' and tips and such," Charles explains, patiently, "so I know that the subscribers prefer, or want to see next."
A spark of jealousy makes itself known inside of Erik. Who the fuck do they think they are, these subscribers?
"… and I've noticed," Charles continues, "a fair few of them are interested in seeing, well… couple stuff."
"Couple stuff?" Erik repeats dumbly.
"Not to put too fine a point on it," Charles says, "but they'd like to see me get fucked."
Erik's brain has encountered some sort of lag.
"So… they haven't?" he asks, slowly.
Charles looks surprised at the question. "No," he answers. "Just solo stuff so far, you know, toys."
The lag gets worse.
"I…" Erik chokes out, after a minute. "What? I mean… wh-where do you..?"
"Film it?" Charles fills in where he left off. "Just in my room." He shrugs. "You don't need a lot of set-up or anything. No elaborate costuming or props. Well," he giggles, "unless you count—"
"Charles," Erik cuts in, catching up. How did I not know that this was going on in the other side of the apartment? he thinks. "What are you asking me to do?" he says bluntly. "In a nutshell."
Charles blinks at him. "Have I not been clear? My apologies." He clears his throat slightly. "I want to expand from solo videos to couple content. So, I'm looking for someone to film with. To have sex with, essentially, on camera, for a paying audience. At least a couple times, to gauge interest, that kind of thing. And I thought of you."
"Mnh," Erik replies. He almost falls backwards on his chair and settles the legs flat on the ground again. Charles looks like he's distracted anyway, and thankfully ignores his response.
"I'm not currently seeing anyone, so that's out. You're my best friend, and you know me better than anyone, anyway. We find each other attractive, so no problems there. And I know you've stripped before, so I thought you might be less averse to other kinds of sex work."
"You could… anyone would—" Erik says, shaking his head.
Charles laughs the comment off. "Anyway, crucially, I trust you." He grimaces slightly. "There are a few potential issues with involving someone else, obviously — privacy, sexual health, safety. Although the telepathy assists with that, I'd rather not find myself in that kind of situation if I can help it. Sometimes the other content creators collaborate, but… I guess I'd prefer someone I already know pretty well." He chews on his thumbnail again. "It's not as easy as a spontaneous hook-up," he chuckles.
Erik just stares at Charles. If anyone had told him this morning that they'd be having this conversation, he probably would have laughed them out of the room. Or more likely, punched them in the face.
"And remember, we've already slept together, on that one occasion, so there's none of that 'first time' awkwardness," Charles continues, casual as anything. Erik tries not to show a single emotion in reaction to that. Remember? Like he could forget. "And of course," Charles ends his pitch, smiling, "you're objectively hot. I think the audience will like you a lot."
They sit in silence for several seconds. Erik does not overthink Charles calling him hot, or why Charles thinks he's hot but hasn't tried to sleep with him again. But then, of course, Charles is Charles, and he's just… Erik. And now Charles does want to sleep with him again, even if it's for some bizarre money-making scheme that Erik doesn't really understand.
"I think… I need…" To remember how to form sentences, Erik thinks. And to find those videos.
"You need time to consider it," Charles agrees, preemptively. "Completely understandable." He gets to his feet, and then pauses. "Not to rush you, truly, but I was hoping to film something by next weekend, if at all possible." Erik's eyebrows threaten to rise into his hairline. "Obviously, it will be a trial run and everything, but if you can let me know as soon as you can, it'd help. That way I can start to think about asking someone else, if I need to."
Fuck that, Erik thinks, impulsively.
"I'll do it."