"You want to sleep with him," Magda said, late on their third night in that big house. They'd tucked the children in hours ago, all three (even Anya, little miss smart mouth, who at the ripe old age of ten considered herself much too grownup for a bedtime). It was just the two of them in their room, which was both larger than any apartment or hotel room they'd packed their entire little family into over the years, yet at the same time much more friendly, somehow.
"Magda," Erik said, sounding scandalized. "You're out of your mind." He said it in the exact tone he'd used six years ago, when she'd told him that when he left, he had to take them with him, she and Anya and the new one she had been almost but not quite sure of, then. 'Where would I go?' he'd asked, as if she hadn't seen the blood spatters on his shirt, the red grime under his fingernails when he'd come home three hours late from work several weeks before. As if she hadn't noticed the way his gaze kept drifting to the door, ever since he'd refused to tell her what had happened, who or what he'd met coming home. As if she'd let it go if he denied it with enough scorn.
Well, she knew better than to let anything go. She'd seen the direction Erik's gaze went now, when he thought no one was watching.
And, if her husband had been paying attention to anything else, maybe he would have noticed that he wasn't the only one taken by Charles' Xavier's smile, his enthusiasm, his kindness—and those thighs.
***
Erik spent the next several days sulking. Magda bided her time, waiting until he'd stopped giving her suspicious looks to bring the subject up again.
"I like him, too," she said, a whisper into Erik's ear as her hands ran up and down his sweaty back. "Imagine if he were the one inside me."
Erik groaned, hips stuttering. As he regained his rhythm, he said, "Stop it."
Again, Magda waited, but this time only until she'd come, her inner muscles clenching around his big cock. Then, she reached further down, squeezed his ass hard in both hands, and whispered, "Imagine if he were inside you."
Erik groaned again, his entire body stiffening as he came.
***
Even after that, Erik wouldn't admit anything. He didn't bother trying to deny it anymore, but he refused to discuss anything so shocking as actually inviting Charles into their bed.
Well, there never had been all that much discussion in their marriage anyway. Usually, with a few exceptions, Magda told Erik how things would be, and that was the way they were.
And so it was to be this time, as well. Magda waited again, until one night when the house was quiet and only the three of them were left awake. Erik was with Charles in his study, as they so often seemed to be.
The study door was open a crack, as usual. Magda swung the door open to find the two of them studying a chess board. She almost laughed when Erik sat bolt-upright, as if he'd been doing something wrong just by leaning forward.
"Magda," Charles said, jumping to his feet. He was just as flushed as Erik, but didn't share Erik's guilty expression, and when Magda stepped further into the room, he grinned broadly, not looking at all surprised. Not that Magda had expected him to; the closer she'd come to deciding, the more transparently Charles had been looking at her and Erik both. "I think that's a splendid idea."
"What is?" Erik asked, glancing between them, alarm quickly replacing the guilt. But when Magda took both their hands and led the way to the bedroom, Erik followed, quietly and meekly as a lamb.
***
Charles' mouth was warm, his hands bold, and both of them were on her breasts rubbing her nipples to full stiffness by the time Magda thought to check on Erik, who hadn't yet joined them. She almost wondered, for one panicked moment, that she'd been wrong—but though Erik was standing back and out of the way, watching them, his eyes were dark, a blush high on his cheeks. His mouth was slightly open, and there was already a visible bulge in the front of his trousers.
"Come here, Erik," Magda said, and he did, kissing her briefly first, as if asking permission, and then Charles. Charles was bold there, too, reaching for Erik's cock within seconds, making Erik yelp in surprise, and Magda laugh.
They made their way toward the bed, helping each other undress on the way, awkward and fumbling as it was with three, ten times worse than with just two. Once on the bed, everything was a jumble of arms and legs, mouths and fingers, until they all needed more than those light, eager (though in Erik's case also hesitant) touches.
Charles was broader then Erik, especially in the shoulders, and heavier. When he slid into her, Magda arched up, crying out in pleasure. Erik, who was back to watching again, this time close enough that she could feel the heat of his body all along her left side, cried out with her, a low, choking sound.
"Don't come yet," Magda said into Charles' ear, not whispering; she wanted Erik to hear her. "Erik wants you next."
"You know, I'm not so sure he does," Charles said, smiling into her neck as he picked up the pace.
There was a long silence, then, before Erik said, "I don't—I—yes. I do. Yes. Please." And, when Magda had stopped laughing, (and had come twice while laughing, Charles' fingers teasing her clit as he moved in and out of her), he said, "I don't suppose you're going to let me live it down."
And Magda never did.