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What Charles doesn't want to admit to himself; doesn't want to admit that he won't admit, is this: all this time, it's only ever been Erik. God, of course there were others, Gabby and Steve and Peter and he'd loved them for what they were, for the pieces of himself they helped him unpeel. He's grown up well enough without Erik Lehnsherr, but that doesn't mean a part of him hadn't always craved this, ever since he was a shock haired boygirl misfit in a private school bathroom and Erik was his only safe harbour.
Erik is gay, and that's the worst, most inadmissible part: how validating it is, how triumphant Charles feels when Erik's face is pressed between his legs, moaning gut deep with his mouth on Charles's dick. He doesn't need anyone else to tell him who he is, but knowing that Erik gets it is somehow hotter than anything.
"Erik --" He doesn't need telepathy to know Erik likes it when he's vocal. Truth be told, he can't exactly help it: Erik is so damn good at this, so fucking unexpectedly eager. Charles made the mistake of mentioning it once in surprise, and Erik looked up and quirked his lip and said, "I've sucked a lot of cock," and Charles's stomach turned inside out in the holy shit good way. Erik loves this, fucking Charles with his fingers and whimpering when Charles pulls his hair: Charles could hardly be expected to stem the filth that comes out of his mouth, faced with that. "Fuck, Erik, yes, suck my dick, take my cock,” all it ever gets him is more and more and more.
That's the thing about Erik, really, the thing Charles can't admit he won't admit. Erik has always loved him, known him, wanted him. Erik still does, for exactly and entirely what he is.
The first time he'd ventured fingers into Charles's cunt, it had been a mistake, Charles knew. But it had felt good, the thick pressure in there while Erik sucked his cock, and Charles had clenched around it and pinned Erik's wrist and come like hell. After, Erik had been bashful, almost ashamed, but Charles had shrugged and said, "What feels good feels good, Erik. If you had a cunt, you'd want me to fuck it, wouldn't you?" And Erik had gone red, and Charles had rolled him over and fucked his slick pretty cunt soundly, because Erik was nothing if not a fast learner who knew that textbooks were only for guidance.
The thing about Erik is this: it's always been the two of them, contra mundum, against the world. Maybe Charles has changed, but in some ways, Erik's changed more, and unlike other people, he can own that. Erik has always been beautiful, but with his mouth stretched red and wet around Charles's dick, his eyes storm swept, he's perfect.
Charles would never admit it out loud, but Erik knows it anyway.