Chapter Text
The waiting list for a first-time client at Xavier's was weeks long. Most people simply requested their names be added to the list and then waited out the time patiently, arriving at their assigned date and time without complaint.
Erik Lehnsherr, it seemed, was not like most people. His emails to Charles had been courteous but specific, full of questions about the interview process and the type of companionship that might be available. Charles did his best to answer all the questions promptly, although when Lehnsherr's emails bent more toward particular interests and fetishes, Charles let him twist a bit. It was one thing to want to ensure one's more unique needs would be met; Charles could understand that. It was something else to get emails like this, where initial communication quickly gave way to flirtation.
And it was definitely flirtation. Charles might not be able to read Lehnsherr's mind at range, but he'd been a companion at Xavier's long before he'd taken it over and given it its new name. As the owner of this operation, he'd had even more cause to pay attention to the subtle nuances of flirtation and seduction-- it might not all be directed his way, now, but it was important to recognize the signs. The more quickly he could do so, the better his chances of directing a client at precisely the right partner, someone with compatible interests and predilections.
But Charles was not on the market these days. He had enough to do simply running Xavier's; he couldn't afford to spend more time in one of the upstairs rooms than in the front office downstairs. Literally, as it happened; when he took over the operation, it was deeply in debt and was only just now beginning to show profit. Thank heavens its reputation had remained intact; better management-- and perhaps more importantly, management that didn't siphon ninety percent of the operation's profit into his own pocket-- was doing the rest.
There were a few key clients Charles maintained a more prurient relationship with, but only a few. Lehnsherr, for all his flirtation over email-- his dry sense of humor; his interest in some of the things that could, after all this time, still send Charles's pulse skyrocketing; the gorgeous photographs he'd sent that went above and beyond the simple headshot clients were expected to submit-- was not going to join that group. Charles really did have plenty to do without fitting a new client into his schedule.
So when Lehnsherr finally arrived at Xavier's and was shown into Charles's office, Charles made no attempt to clean up his image. He was out of his suit jacket, out of his tie, his blue Oxford unbuttoned at the neck and its sleeves rolled up. He smiled at Lehnsherr and came out from behind his desk. "Mr. Lehnsherr, how good to finally meet you. I trust you found the grounds without difficulty."
"None at all. Your directions were perfect." Lehnsherr extended a hand, which Charles accepted. "You must be Charles Xavier."
"I must be."
Lehnsherr's hand lingered on Charles's. Charles wasn't surprised by that, although he was a bit taken off-guard by how openly Lehnsherr's gaze raked down his body. A flirtation was one thing, but this was pushing the boundaries of making an outright offer. Charles slid his hand out of Lehnsherr's grip.
"Based on the points we've discussed in email," Charles said, "I've picked out several of our companions that I'd like you to meet."
"I was rather hoping we'd have a chance to continue those discussions in person." Lehnsherr raised an eyebrow. "If your schedule permits it, of course. There are a few details I'd like to work out between the two of us."
I'm sure you would, Charles thought. Still, no reason to steal the details out of Lehnsherr's mind just yet. Lehnsherr was paying for the time; Charles could allow him to linger if he wanted. "Please," he said, indicating one of the two chairs in front of his desk. He slipped around behind it once again and took a seat.
Lehnsherr folded himself into a chair and crossed one ankle over his knee. Charles leaned forward, hands folded together on his desk. "Tell me about these details of yours," Charles murmured, and if he was baiting Lehnsherr a little with that tone of voice, well... so be it.
"We've talked about why I'm here," Lehnsherr said, glancing around Charles's office for a moment before settling his gaze back on Charles. "Mutation isn't a fetish for me, it's an identity-- I want to be with my own kind."
"You're not the only one who's come here for that reason," Charles reassured him. "We have companions here who prefer to offer companionship to mutants, when possible, and companions who only work with fellow mutants." And companions willing to cater to human fetishes, but Charles was determined to phase that part of the business out within the next six months. He might not have the same attitude toward humans that some mutants did-- that Lehnsherr did, from the tone of his emails-- but there were limits to how far he was willing to go to integrate with human society. Catering to the notion of mutants-as-objects was past that limit.
Lehnsherr nodded. "Would you like a demonstration of my ability?"
Charles laughed, shaking his head. "Mr. Lehnsherr, you're a public figure; your mutation is well-documented." He lowered his eyes for a moment and looked up at Lehnsherr through his eyelashes, licking his lips; it didn't take the use of his telepathy to guess that Lehnsherr wanted the opportunity to demonstrate his ability. Why not indulge the man? "But if you'd like to show me... I'd like to look."
The smile that slid onto Lehnsherr's face quickly moved into smirk territory, and Charles immediately regretted going quite so far with the flirtation; the lip-licking was probably a bit much, making an offer Charles had no intention of delivering on. Still, Erik Lehnsherr and his magnetism were well-known, particularly in the mutant community, and while Lehnsherr had made his fortune working in buying and selling precious metals, these days he bent his ability to more delicate work. He was known for creating tiny sculptures for the mutant interviewers who wrote articles about him, just as a friendly, mutant-to-mutant perk.
What he'd do for Charles... Charles couldn't help but be curious.
Lehnsherr's gaze scanned Charles's desk, lighting on a small dish of paper clips. "May I?"
"By all means."
The paper clips rose as a unit, and as Charles watched, they bent and stretched, untangling themselves from one another, thinning in some places, joining together to create thicker rods. Lehnsherr guided the motion with a gentle wave of his hand, fingers extended-- the man had quite long fingers, and his fingernails were manicured and well cared for, which was almost distracting enough to pull Charles's attention from the sculpture he was creating. But not quite.
This was no abstract form; the wirework was quickly becoming recognizable as a skyscraper. One piece after another fit into place, until Charles was looking at a small but credible replica of the Empire State Building, all its sleek lines set perfectly into place. The tiny sculpture hovered in front of Charles, turning carefully around and around, and set itself down on his desk blotter.
"It's beautiful," Charles said, and meant it.
"Thank you." Lehnsherr smiled. "It's yours."
For a moment, Charles allowed himself to be dazzled... but in this business, nothing was ever truly free. Clients gave their escorts gifts all the time, but in the end it was always an exchange. And Charles wasn't under contract with Lehnsherr, wasn't going to be under contract to Lehnsherr. If Lehnsherr thought the... absolutely beautiful... demonstration of his ability was going to impress Charles enough to get Charles onto the menu, he was bound for disappointment.
And a client who was disappointed before he even met the companions who were there to serve him was going to be hard to please. Which is not at all the reason you're going to do this, I'm sure. You're only doing it to be certain he isn't a danger to you or your staff. This isn't about wanting to look inside his mind and truly feel him at all. The excuse was flimsy, even to Charles himself, but nevertheless, it was standard procedure nowadays for Charles to take a look at any new client from the inside, as a safety protocol. He'd only had to turn out a few people since he'd started doing it, but he-- and even if unknowingly, his staff-- was grateful that he'd turned those few out.
The chances of Lehnsherr being a danger to anyone were remote, Charles knew, but all the same... the temptation of knowing him better, and the necessity of a safety check, were compelling enough to push Charles into action. Charles lifted his fingertips to his temple, leaning forward onto his desk to disguise the motion as a simple thoughtful gesture, as though he were contemplating the sculpture in all its minute detail... and reached out, opening his mind to Lehnsherr's emotions.
Years of practice doing this-- not to mention years of working in this field-- had given Charles an excellent poker face. The swirl of emotion running through Lehnsherr was nothing unexpected: a quiet simmering sense of patience mixed with anticipation, a rolling hunger growing stronger by the moment, determination... oh, that was interesting, the determination was all focused on Charles. On seducing him? Yes, to some extent... but there was no deeper intent there, no sense that Lehnsherr wouldn't be satisfied unless it was Charles himself who joined him in bed tonight. Charles stifled a momentary trickle of disappointment; he did not have time to get involved with another client, he reminded himself. And Lehnsherr might have been interested in taking Charles to one of the rooms upstairs, but more than that, he was looking to impress him. Lehnsherr wanted Charles to remember this meeting-- as if Charles could possibly forget him.
Like so many others Charles had known, Lehnsherr was interested in a few specific acts and kinks... but ultimately he was interested in the chase, with the time-saving feature of a foregone conclusion. The chase might appeal, but he didn't want to devote more than an evening to it. Predictable, Charles thought. It would be easy to find him someone with compatible interests. And, to his relief, no one here was in any danger from Lehnsherr here whatsoever. In fact, if there were an emergency, Lehnsherr himself would probably step into the line of fire to protect his fellow mutants. Keeping his poker face on after determining that was a challenge; there was no reason for him to suddenly feel more warmth toward Lehnsherr than he had when he'd leaned forward in the first place.
He withdrew from Lehnsherr's surface emotions and sat back in his chair, refining the list of companions he'd be presenting to Lehnsherr tonight. Not Hank; Lehnsherr might appreciate his visible mutation, but he'd consider Hank's affectation of nervousness a waste of time. Angel had gone from 'maybe' to 'definitely'; her no-nonsense attitude and their shared disdain for humans would make for good sparks. Lehnsherr didn't seem in the mood for a struggle tonight, but Alex had unpredictable effects on people; the instant some clients laid eyes on him, they were beset with an urge to put him down hard. Fortunately, that was one of Alex's favorite games. He'd keep Alex in the mix. A few others. He knew who was ready and who wasn't, and he smiled at Lehnsherr, stroking a fingertip down his little sculpture. The phallic nature of the symbol wasn't lost on him.
"I'm so glad you're a part of our clientele, Mr. Lehnsherr. Why don't we head into the lounge, and I'll introduce you to some of our companions?"
"It does seem to be about that time, doesn't it?" Lehnsherr answered. "Lead the way."
Charles rolled his shirtsleeves down, buttoned up and added the tie, all quickly. It earned him a lingering look from Lehnsherr, and from the intensity of Lehnsherr's gaze, it was almost as though the reverse-striptease was as appealing as the real thing. Charles smiled politely as he added the vest and jacket, then stepped forward to guide Lehnsherr out of his office.
Lehnsherr didn't move, or didn't make any immediate motions to do so. He let Charles place his hand at the small of his back, and although he wasn't precisely smiling, there was warmth in his look.
No, not warmth. Heat.
People had looked at Charles as though he were an object before, here in this office, all too readily assuming that anything in a brothel was for sale. This was different. Lehnsherr wasn't just interested in Charles because he was there; he was interested in Charles personally.
Charles cleared his throat and nodded toward the door. You don't have time for this, he reminded himself. You've enough to do with the clients you still have and the books and the schedules, remember?
"Follow me," Charles said, and he led Lehnsherr down the hall to the lounge.
The dark leather furniture in the lounge lent itself to any number of mental images. The sectional was a curve along the back wall; there were a pair of armchairs off to one side, and a love seat to the other. Covered ottomans were in reach of the armchairs, but easily shoved aside if necessary; the coffee table was upholstered in the same leather as the long curved sofa, and big enough to hold two, even if they were doing something energetic. This was the first room where it was clear what Xavier's was meant for, and Lehnsherr took it in slowly, finally unbuttoning his suit jacket and slipping it off his shoulders. He tossed it over the back of the sectional before seating himself in the center of it, arms spread wide across its back.
Charles let himself take that in for a moment-- the man had an impressive wingspan that only highlighted the narrow, lean line of his frame. He couldn't help but wonder what Lehnsherr looked like out of those clothes-- as fit and toned as the width of his shoulders implied? Was he smooth all over, waxed and shaved, or did he have a line of hair trailing down from his navel to his cock, just waiting to be licked and nuzzled? Charles could slip into Lehnsherr's mind readily enough, take a glance through his memories for this morning's shower and shave, find out what the man looked like naked, but that wouldn't tell him what Lehnsherr smelled like: his neck, where the aftershave was just a wisp of scent after all these hours; his armpits, with just a trace of the day's sweat lingering, enough to make Charles's mouth water; his cock, the musky scent behind his balls, arousal growing moment by moment as Charles licked his lips and began to slide his tongue over Lehnsherr's sac, and up, and up...
It had been more than a moment. Lehnsherr was looking back at Charles, eyebrows raised slightly, making no sudden moves, saying nothing. Charles cleared his throat.
"May I offer you some refreshment before we begin? Coffee, tea, water?"
"Water."
"Still or sparkling?"
"Still, please."
"Of course." Charles took a deep breath and headed for the wet bar, opening up one of the refrigerator cabinets below. For a moment, he was tempted to stick his head into the refrigerator to cool off, but instead he reached in and selected a bottle from a tiny brand he'd recently started stocking: Steel Waters. Terrible pun aside, the bottles were made of metal: a bit heavy, but reusable or recyclable. Charles came back around the sectional and offered it to Lehnsherr, who raised his eyebrows a bit further and lifted one hand, exerting a bit of pressure with his ability. Charles let the bottle go, and Lehnsherr called it over, catching it easily in one hand, using his ability to twist the top off as well.
"Thank you," he said, and then, looking at the logo on the bottle, "Steel Waters?"
Charles raised an eyebrow. If Lehnsherr asked him when, precisely, he'd started carrying that brand, he'd have to admit it was after Lehnsherr added his name to the list, and Charles wondered whether Lehnsherr would take that as interest. If he wanted Lehnsherr to take that as interest. "So they say."
"Aluminium waters would have been more precise."
A bit relieved, Charles couldn't help a grin; he did his best to turn it into a coy one instead of the grin Raven so often referred to as 'nerdy'. "You can tell metals apart that way? How delightful." Pehaps he was losing on the nerdy scale after all.
Lehnsherr, however, smiled and lifted the bottle to his lips-- and suddenly Charles envied Lehnsherr's ability. He'd heard Lehnsherr's sensitivity with metal was great enough to glean the sensation from having a metal object touched, and if Charles could feel what that bottle was feeling...
"Shall I call in tonight's companions?"
"Please," Lehnsherr said. The cap turned gently in the air, settling itself on the bottle again, and Lehnsherr let the bottle drift carefully to the floor.
At a quick mental call from Charles, the six companions he'd short-listed for Lehnsherr filed through the door. Angel, Hank, Alex, Janos, and two of the newest companions at Xavier's, Piotr and John... Pyro, Charles reminded himself wearily. He could hardly blame anyone for wanting a 'stage name' of sorts, but he would have preferred a stage name that was a name. Still, Pyro raked his eyes over Lehnsherr and grinned widely, as if he were the only possible choice Lehnsherr could make tonight. Lehnsherr met that gaze and smiled.
Charles felt himself bristling, which made no sense whatever; Lehnsherr was here for companionship, and if someone on staff here was interested in serving him above and beyond the incentive granted from a general fondness for their job and their paycheck, so much the better.
But then Charles had auditioned Pyro himself, and he'd taken note of the way Pyro was every bit as arrogant in bed as out of it. That might go over well with Lehnsherr, but Charles doubted it. He lifted his fingers to his temple and sent a quick thought to Angel: «I don't suppose you'd be willing to unfurl your wings? Mr. Lehnsherr would appreciate the view.»
Angel stepped forward and let her wings fly, smiling at Lehnsherr. That did it; Lehnsherr was on his feet in a moment, reaching a hand out to Angel and looking her up and down.
"Spectacular," he murmured. "My name's Erik."
"I'm Angel."
"Would you like to spend the evening with me, Angel?"
She came closer, stood on her toes, and wound her arms around Lehnsherr's neck, her body fitting easily against his. It led to another unexpected reaction from Charles: as he looked at the two of them, all he could think was that she was a few inches too short, and too curvy, and...
Not me. He scratched his hand through his hair and sighed inwardly.
"I'd love to, Erik."
That was that; Charles nodded to the others and watched them file quietly out of the room. Angel ran a fingertip down Lehnsherr's cheek and murmured something Charles shouldn't have been able to overhear-- shouldn't have, but his senses were so attuned to Lehnsherr that he could hardly help it. "Is that a sculpture in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
And of course, oldest line in the book or not, it worked on him; she knew who he was, she'd heard of his sculptures, and a compliment on the size of a man's cock almost never went amiss. Lehnsherr's emotions swirled up, excitement pulsing through him, and he grinned at her. "Why don't you show me to somewhere private?"
"Absolutely," she beamed, and she took his hand, leading him to the back door of the lounge.
He hesitated at the door, glancing back to Charles. It was probably only wishful thinking, but that look seemed to linger, heat traveling between them in a warm, solid connection-- it felt so real that Charles could nearly reach out and touch it.
"Thank you," Lehnsherr murmured. "Good night, Mr. Xavier."
"Good night to you, Mr. Lehnsherr." Charles raised an eyebrow. "I hope it's a very good night."
"It will be," Angel purred, her wings fluttering lightly. Lehnsherr's attention was immediately drawn, and that was all; he followed her out of the lounge, and the door clicked closed behind them.
Charles scrubbed at his face with both hands. Ridiculous. Absurd. Pointless. This was the part of the business he'd been glad to be done with, after all these years; he was a better manager than a companion, and he knew a liaison with Lehnsherr would only consist of one thing.
But it was hard to resist the urge to peek in, as the hours went by. He buried himself in ledgers and forced his attention away from Lehnsherr and Angel, and when Angel finally rang his office to let him know Lehnsherr had gone and she'd be retiring for the night, Charles breathed a sigh of relief. Better to have temptation well away from him; better not to have Lehnsherr here any longer than was necessary to keep him satisfied and paying Xavier's high rates for his pleasure.