In which Alyssa gets cheesy and makes an X-Men / Grease crossover.

I have an affinity for silly titles. So, um, yeah. This an X-Men (Cherik) crossover with that fucking snazzy musical movie Grease. This isn't set in 1959 though because, well, Erik and Charles being male would make the story way more complicated than the movie is and I don't feel like messing with that. SO MODERN SETTING. YAY. Sorry, guys, no Charles in poodle skirts. Also, there probably won't be any singing because I can't parody music if my life depended on it and Erik suddenly bursting out into song on some bleachers is just awkward. You can pretend it's there if you really need it though. I'm probably boring you with my rambling but let me continue ruining the story for you. I have never drowned before. I don't know what it feels like. So sorry if Charles' experience is completely unreal.

Just so you know, there be sexy tiems in these waters, because, unlike Sandy, Charles isn't about to give up a chance to tap that fine ass.

Summer break is usually a time for new beginnings. The season when you rush out to see new sights, form new relationships, make new goals, and basically just have a bit of fun. Charles Xavier was at least doing some margin of this as he stood at the back of a sunny beach, towel and sunscreen in hand. This was his parent's idea of a vacation or, to put it more truthfully, a way to get him out of their hair. So he was dreadfully alone on a beach, staring out at the rolling waves in front of him and wondering what could possibly make this trip any less boring.

Of course that's the moment when he was knocked out of his stupor of thought by a shoulder ramming straight into his spine. He bucked forward from the force, dropping his sunscreen in the process, and just about fell down completely if the offending person hadn't promptly turned about-face and grabbed him by the shoulder to stop his descent. "Sorry about that," the stranger apologized while picking up and returning the lost sunscreen. Charles would have replied with a kind, "It's no problem at all," but he didn't even get the chance to see the other's face before he had taken off. All he saw as he looked up from the object in his hand was a broad back and black swim trunks snugly wrapped around a slim waist that were jogging away on a pair of muscular, yet skinny, legs.

"There goes my chance at socializing," he sighed to himself as he eyed the rest of the desolate beach. He starts trudging along through the sand and grumbles something about his parents having the decency to send him to a beach devoid of life. With the hot sand catching on his sandals and burning the soles of his feet it seems like it takes ages to find the right spot to lay out his towel. He gets on all fours and flattens it out before burying the edges in sand to keep any wind from carrying it off. He then lets out a breath and sprawls out on his back.

The sky is a mixture of blue and the puffy white that comes from the many clouds slowly floating along in the atmosphere. Even amongst the clouds the sun is still shining down ferociously though. Sweat is forming in various places on Charles' body. He can feel his skin smoldering under the heat. The inside of his eyelids are burning red before he lays an arm across his face to block out the sunrays. Cold, salty water is calling him. However, he just wants a moment to take it all in. It's not often he gets the chance to lie out across some steaming sand and tune into the sounds of the ocean. Seagulls' wings flapping obnoxiously loud as they squawk at each other. The shore trying to peacefully lull anyone to sleep with the soft, rhythmic breaking of waves. Further out you can hear the more violent break of water against sudden protruding rocks. Then further still are the sounds of fishing boats or cruise ships or maybe just some rich weirdo trying to get kicks with a yacht.

Enough of that. Charles sits up abruptly and pops open the sunscreen. He should have lathered down a long time ago. With his pasty complexion he is probably already turning pink and his mother wouldn't be happy if he turned up in front of guests with sunburn, skin peeling in unappealing ways. She was pretty adamant about appearances, which leaves him wondering why she allowed a trip to the beach anyway. He doesn't tan. He only sunburns. It's bound to happen no matter what amount of protection he rubs into his skin. That being the facts, he wasn't about to let the thought of his angry mother keep him from any amount of enjoyment he could happen upon while here.

Charles ran straight into the water, lightly diving underneath the swollen waves so as to get that initial shock of change in temperature over with. When he slipped back up to the surface he had already been carried out a little ways. It was enough to stand with the water up to his shoulders, soft mud and hard shells between his toes. The moving water bounced around him, covering his whole self as it moved upward and leaving him to spit out salt water as it moved down again. He kept moving further and further away from the shoreline, just letting the waves move him along. It was actually quite pleasant and he was ready to just lay back and be swept away until he saw what most certainly, most undoubtedly, most alarmingly had to be the fin of a shark.

At first he told himself he had to be seeing things, it was just pollution, trash, but it was coming closer, straight for him in fact. Then he took a different root in strategy and told himself repeatedly to calm his mind. Maybe it wasn't there to tear him into pieces and swallow him down for lunch. Maybe it just wanted to check out who else was having a good time in the ocean. Just keep calm, stay still, it will swim away on its own accord without bothering the silly human. That's when a cramp decided to forge its way into his right leg, a big charley horse right down in the core of his calf. If he hadn't been instantly drenched in dread Charles would probably be telling himself he needs to get out more, work out a little, then maybe this problem wouldn't had presented itself, but those ideas are for another time. If there is one. He tried to keep himself afloat with the one lower limb he had working and the two up top, but cramps have a way of stealing your energy and concentration and he was quickly finding himself deeply underwater. Forget the shark; he was getting a one-way ticket to suffocation by H2O. Charles reached his hands up through the water, grasping and pulling at nothing but the ocean around him. His one leg that wasn't crippled by straining muscle was kicking furiously, but to no use as it soon tired out and did nothing but weigh him down as well. He tried to stare up through the murky water to try and find something, some way, to pull him free of his nearing death. He only managed to spot a dark shape closing in on him before he had to shut his eyes away from the stinging salt. Hoping it wasn't a shark ready for its next meal, Charles took the chance of reaching out towards the shape as the last of his breath went and he began to feel himself drifting away.

"If you don't wake up…," Charles felt airy and light and there was this voice griping at him for some reason. He just wanted to sleep and keep this tingly feeling in his body, but that voice, "I will find your ghost and personally exorcise it with the most painful exorcism imaginable." Ghost? Exorcism? Charles wasn't quite grasping the intention of this disembodied voice or what it could possibly be trying to get at with its threats. He figured it was pointless to entertain to this voice's demands anyway and a much better idea to slip softly onto the cloudy bed of sleep that was beckoning him.

Charles was slowly letting the deep sleep take him away. The feeling in his body, that rough tingling sensation that told him he was still there, was flowing out of him as well. His toes went, his feet went, and his legs began to numb. Then he felt a pinch in his nose, something soft against his lips, and hot air pushing into him.

Then his lungs burst with cutting pain and he suddenly ached all over, from head to toe. He couldn't breathe. There was some salty, burning liquid coursing up his throat. Something pounded down on his chest once, and then twice, maybe a third, actually probably several times that he wasn't able to keep up with. He wasn't really counting though. He felt close to puking. Something was pressed against his mouth again, but he didn't have time to focus on it because Charles was suddenly jolting to consciousness, the presence backing away as he spit up salt water. His body convulsed slightly as it rid itself of all the liquid blocking its breathing capabilities.

"It's about time. I thought you were a going to die on me and leave me with the guilt of having caused your early demise."

Charles made some garbled noise of confusion, "What?" His vision was still blurry and his head was pounding with a horrific headache. He shakily raised an arm and pressed two fingers to his temple to try to massage out the pain.

"You ended up drowning because I frightened you with my shark impression, did you not?"

"Wait," Charles sat up with a slight grimace crossing his face, "That wasn't a shark? It was you playing a trick? Putting aside the fact I drowned due to a cramp…" Charles' vision was focusing now and his eyes widened just slightly as he got a better look at his savior. Strong jaw, prominent cheekbones, and striking green eyes. This guy was actually quite handsome. Under further inspection he noticed something he'd seen before—those black swim trunks on that slender waist. "You're the one who rammed into me earlier today!"

"Not the phrase I would use while looking at another man's crotch—"

"I wasn't looking!" Charles spluttered embarrassingly. "I just recognized your shorts from before." His ears reddened slightly as he realized how this probably all sounded.

"Yes, I am the one who rammed into you," the stranger said, leaning in close and flashing a toothy grin, "What of it?"

Charles slapped a hand across his mouth, trying to cover the hideous laughter that was escaping him. "When you were impersonating," he threw up some air quotes for emphases," a shark, were you just showing off your teeth?"

His new acquaintance pulled back with an irritated look spread across his face, maybe even a slight twitch in his eye.

"Oh, don't feel insulted by my silly remarks. You have a lovely smile, brightened my day." Charles smiled himself, his bright lips cracking a bit from being chapped by the sun. He then held out a hand as greeting, "I'm Charles by the way, Charles Xavier. I had meant to talk to you when you ran into me, but you took off too quickly."

"Erik Lensherr," he mumbled in return and hesitantly held out his hand which Charles snatched up in both of his palms and shook enthusiastically. Maybe this vacation wasn't go to be as of a bore after all.

Several of their summer days after that first meeting were spent walking the shoreline together. They had serious conversations about a number of topics, talking with exuberance and determination in their ideals. The two had differing viewpoints in many areas but none of this made either dislike the other in any amount. At other times, when they had run out of breath for words, they just walked in silence. It wasn't awkward at all. Just being in the presence of the other was enough to have a time well spent. Listening to the waves with someone else, drawing adjacent lines in the wet sand with their heels, and occasionally pushing one another into the water and trying to run off before getting an equally wet punishment.

It was on one of those silent, shore walking days that Charles reached out his hand and interlaced his fingers with Erik's. There wasn't much thought put into. He just felt like doing so. So he did. When he did they both stopped in their onward march and looked uncertainly at their clasped hands. Charles wiggled his fingers and then pressed their tips against the back of Erik's hand. Erik's thumb moved tentatively over Charles'. The two smiled a little to themselves and then looked up at each other with ridiculous grins plastered on their faces.

Some of their summer days were spent specifically in the sand. Nonchalantly digging holes as they stared out at the horizon, burying each other from feet to neck, and even building intricate sand castles when they felt like being creative were ways they passed the time. They would end up having to take a dip in the ocean late at night just so they wouldn't end up going home covered in scratchy sand. The water would be freezing by then and their skin would prick up with goose bumps. Being cold and wet would snap them out of their fatigue and grabbing their things and walking up the beach was a slow process because leaving then seemed like a horrid thing to do.

One of those days they were building a giant fortress with plastic buckets and tools and water brought up from the ocean. It was by far the greatest castle they'd put together through their tedious effort. Charles had a disposable camera on him that day and he begged Erik to pose in front of it for a picture. He quickly caved under those puppy blue eye and when he went to position himself he tripped and ended up sitting down on a sandy wall. Charles laughed, snapping a picture quickly, and Erik stood to throw a handful of sand at him for taking such a shot. He ran after the escaping paparazzi and knocked him to the ground. Charles was laid out flat on his back, Erik's hands resting idly in the sand on either sad of Charles' head as he holds himself up. They stare blankly at each other for just a few seconds before Charles' face is lighting up with that pleased smile of his and he brings the camera up between them to snap another picture. Erik steals the offending item, tosses it aside, and slowly moves in closer. They can both feel the other's breath on their faces. The tips of their noses are touching. Then there's a small hitch in Erik's breathing before he presses their lips together.

Then there's that one day. That last day. The day Charles has to say goodbye a million times over before taking his plane back to England. It's not worth it to try and make the day like the rest, pretend it's not over. They don't want to try anyway, because it's not the same as the rest of summer. Today's their last chance together, they won't see one another again for a long time, maybe never, and those few hours have to be special.

Each of their towels are laid out next to each other in the sand and they are sitting right in the middle of them, facing the ocean. Charles is laid back against Erik's chest, Erik's arms draped over his shoulders. They spend the whole day sitting just like that, Charles constantly running his fingers over Erik's hands, talking quietly. It isn't until the sun has completely disappeared from the sky that Erik shifts from his position.

He smirks as he rolls on top of Charles and plants a kiss on a sensitive part of his neck. Charles tries to mask the change in his breathing but the continued press of lips down his skin makes its difficult. He presses up on Erik's shoulders with the palms of his hands, "Erik, what if someone sees?"

"Are you kidding?" Erik slides his fingers down the chest beneath him. "Have you seen a single other person here the whole summer?"

That was apparently sufficient enough reassurance because Erik was suddenly rewarded with Charles grinding up against him needily. They both groaned softly into each other's mouths as their lips met and they kissed with an overpowering need to be as close as possible. Charles' hands moved up into Erik's hair where they stroked and tugged and tried to memorize the texture and the way every strand fell. Erik's hands were doing much the same, but instead roaming every piece of flesh, every curve. When they did at last break their lips apart it was only so Erik could press his into the small crook behind Charles' ear, then his jaw, down his neck, a line of kisses across his collar bone, and then down his chest before his mouth began to miss Charles' tongue and he had to lock lips with him again. Their breathing was starting to get heavy as they helplessly ground against each other, trying to satisfy themselves with a constant friction between their covered erections.

Getting impatient, Erik's hand slipped down to Charles' waistband and his fingers wrapped excitedly around it. "Is it okay?" he breathed, moving slightly away from Charles' face, those reddened lips gasping for his own to come back.

"Do you really need to ask?" Charles laid his own hand on the one at his waist and helped push his swim trunks down, raising his hips to get them completely off. Erik made to continue on with their love making, but Charles practically whimpered his name as he took a hold of Erik's shorts to indicate that he wanted the both of them entirely exposed. Erik playfully rolled his eyes but answered his partner's wishes anyway, removing his only clothing and chucking it off into the sand somewhere. They kissed again briefly and then Erik lifted one of Charles' legs over his shoulder, "I can't draw this out any longer, Charles."

Charles only nodded and tilted his head back against the towel, mentally readying himself. He didn't want to wait any longer either. His fingers clawed into the cloth beneath him and he temporarily stopped breathing as he felt Erik move in close to him. Then he couldn't stop his upper half from lifting inches off the ground, his shoulders cringing and his face grimacing in pain as Erik pushed inside him. He huffed and writhed a little when the movement suddenly stopped. "Are you okay?" Erik asked, the concern apparent in his expression and the inflection in his voice. "Maybe we should stop and prepare you properly instead of—"

"No," Charles interrupted, "no. Just… go slow. Slow." He rested his back against the ground again and let out a long shaky breath. He reached a hand up and, with a slight smile, slipped it into the hand Erik had resting on his thigh. Erik apologetically squeezed Charles' clammy hand and began to push inside him once more. He managed to move all the way in without too much of a fuss, but Charles asked him to stay for a moment before pulling out to give him a chance to recuperate. They stayed that way for a minute or two, just blissfully joined together and their breathing reaching equilibrium. Erik wouldn't have mind if they spent hours in that position, but Charles eventually gave him the okay to continue on.
Their rhythm started out sluggishly, a soft rocking that could have sent either of them to sleep. As Charles began to feel more pleasure than pain though they gradually picked up the pace and at some point Erik hit just the right spot. Charles' entire body lit up with pleasure like a lightning strike and he moaned loudly, "Aah, Erik, right there. " He wrapped his other leg around Erik's back to make it easier. Erik leaned in closer as he picked up the speed and Charles draped his arms around the man's neck, fingers digging into the skin of his back. The constant movement had disheveled their makeshift mat and Charles' slightly reddened back was being rubbed smooth by the sand with every thrust. Each grunt and moan was being picked up by the wind and wafted off into the ocean.

"Erik, Erik, yes, faster."
"Fuck, Charles, I—"

"I know, I know, me too. Just haa—" Charles moaned and tightened his grip around the body he held, burying his face in the crook of Erik's neck. He couldn't help but smile to himself as Erik moaned hotly in his ear as they both came. Charles shook as that last spout of pleasure ran through his body. The two of them were sticky from cum and sweat and their breathing labored. They would probably make their way over to the water to clean up later, but for now they were satisfied with lying in each other's arms.

Charles sighed, "Erik, is this the end?"
The green eyes in front of him turned questioning and then softened and a hand ran through his sweat dampened hair, "Of course not, it's only the beginning."