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Title: It's Already Inside
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Rating: Hard R with warnings.
Pairing: Erik/Raven; Magneto/Mystique
Summary: "Show me what you've learned."
Content Advisory: Het, knifeplay, violence.
Acknowledgements: The

xmen_firstkink prompt Erik/anyone, knifeplay was so awesome I had to write two stories for it.
Disclaimer: This fanwork has been created for pleasure only and not for profit.
Title from "Run (I'm a Natural Disaster)" by Gnarls Barkley

"So I hear Azazel has been training you while I was away," Erik says by way of greeting, hiding his smile as Raven whirls, a little breathless, a little triumphant. Her facsimile of sweat-damp top and pants shimmers away to bare lapis skin; she always bares herself to him, and she smiles wider as he swings the door shut behind himself, eager and open as a child.

Erik returns her smile and lunges at her, right fist raised.

Raven does herself and her teacher proud, skipping back light-footed from his punch, ducking his next swing, retaining her balance when he trips her and rolling out of his reach. Her expression is confused, lips rounded in shock, but her hands are up and ready when she gains her feet and faces him again. "What was that?"

"Show me what you've learned," Erik replies as he kicks at her hip, and Raven's too busy goggling to dodge, foolish girl. But she learns quickly, turning with the momentum, wasting no time on wincing as she regains her stance.

"Erik!" she cries out, golden eyes still wide though her body's ready, legs braced and feet planted. "Seriously, you're not going to hurt me, are you?"

"How's that hip feel?" he points out, feinting towards her, and she blocks with her forearm, pulling her torso away from his reach, good girl. "Do you know for certain you're the only shapeshifter in the world? What will you do when someone with a friend's face tries to kill you? Show me what you've learned, Mystique."

Her garnet eyebrows tilt downwards, her golden eyes glitter, and she looks so magnificent in this moment he's in danger of giving her the advantage by tripping over his own feet. She takes a deeper breath, and when his boot knife slips up into his hand her only reaction is a tight little scowl. Yes, he thinks, yes, my girl.

And she comes at him, light-footed as a dancer, lips pressed shut and body holding nothing back. She goes for the knife, which he's expecting, but she's so fast she almost gets it before he can pull his hand out of reach. He brings it down hilt first, his one concession that this is a spar rather than a battle, his elbow held akimbo to keep her back, but with a neat sidestep she gets outside his block and her strike tingles his fingers.

She gets the knife, magnificent girl, though he does restrain his power so it won't adhere to his hand. She runs from him for breathing space, swings a kick at him to keep him back, her eyes wide as she glances at her prize. "If you win you can have me." Erik smirks as he speaks, and she tilts her head like a cat as she listens. "However you want."

"And if I lose?" she asks, golden eyes gleaming, steel gleaming in her grip.

"You might want to win," Erik suggests, and darts forward again.

Raven lets his own rush send him past her, whirls and kicks and hooks her foot behind his knee. Erik's heel skids, his fist skids against her skin, and he falls much more heavily than she did. He could get up, but she plants a knee on his chest and knocks him prone, swinging the knife in under his chin. The fight's over, and he drops his hands beside his shoulders, palms up in surrender.

Raven -- Mystique leans over Erik, head still cocked at that feline angle, golden eyes narrowed to slits. She's breathing deeply but not desperately, sweat-sheened and redolent, and his mouth waters at the magnificent woman above him. She moves slowly, still not sure he won't take the knife away with his power, but she does it surely, no hesitation as she turns the knife and slides it down into his collar and through his turtleneck, the cloth parting with a muted snarl.

Erik closes his eyes and just feels, Raven's long calf pressing down his chest, the ringing hum of the knife skimming his skin. "Is this how you want me?" he asks, and her answer is a kiss on the tip of his nose. Erik smiles and enjoys it as she shifts position, her thighs firm alongside his ribs, but he doesn't try to move just yet, not while she trails the knife's starbright point over his stomach. "If you cut up my pants," he adds, reasonably enough though desire tightens his voice, "what do you intend for me to wear out of here?"

Raven giggles, but her, "Don't you always tell me I should be comfortable in my own skin?" is a low purr. Despite her words she unbuttons his pants, tugging them and his underwear down his hips one-handed, and he shimmies to help her, sucks air through his teeth when she touches him and thrusts up into her stroking hand.

Three sweetly rough strokes, four, five, and she reaches up and thunks the knife into the mat, an inch from his ear. "You're an asshole, you know that?" brushes his face in a warm puff of breath, and he opens his eyes to find her smile sharp and sweet as she spreads her fingers over his collarbones. "Next time don't you dare pull your punches."

"Then be ready." Erik reaches up, curving his hands around the taut textured skin of her hips, sweeping his thumb over the heated bruise, and Raven grins into a gasp as she pushes down, rippling hot around him.