Fic: All I Want (is all you need) (2/?)
Title: All I Want (is all you need)
Author: kayevelyn
Fandom: X-men
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Rating: +17
Summary: Erik is the heir to the mutant world, and he has just been gifted with a new present.
Warnings: BDSM, Kink
Notes: I got inspiration for this from a mixture of this prompt and this prompt from the meme.
I am.... so drained omg. RL is a bitch and just... yeah. I write slow when that happens. I'll try to update the next chapter faster but... no guarantees :( And LOL this is not even like half of what this chapter was supposed to be :\ So.... I NO LONGER KNOW HOW LONG THIS FIC IS GONNA BE AND LAST TIME THIS HAPPENED I ENDED UP WRITING AN 80K FIC (that is still WIP) FML.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Metal woke him up; specifically two different metals scrapping against each other making a spine pinching sound. Erik raised his hand, closing it into a fist to stop the sound.
Blessed silence.
Erik buried his face back into the pillow, yawning. His internal clock told him it was far too early to be getting up, and since he’d tolerated the party as long as he had, Sebastian couldn’t say anything about him sleeping in.
Someone let out a whimper and Erik’s eyes flew open.
The party.
His gift.
The metal scrapping together.
He bolted up, and saw the top of Charles’ head. He crawled to the end of the bed, trying to see what had happened. There was blood and Erik cursed, waving his hand to disengage the metal from around his wrists. They were chaffed, cut and Erik removed the metal bands, dropping them to the ground with a thud. He cursed again, turning Charles’ hands over and over to see the damage.
“The cuts are fresh, from when you - uh - woke up I’m guessing,” Charles supplied, and Erik looked at his face. He looked exhausted, and Erik could guess he hadn’t slept. Charles didn’t say anything, just watched as Erik examined each cut before sighing and climbing out of bed.
“Follow me,” Erik said, walking to the bathroom. He turned on the tap to the tub, filling it with warm water.
Charles stood shaky in the doorway, watching him. His eyes looked around. It wasn’t grand, nothing like Sebastian’s rooms, Erik knew, but it was probably more ornate than someone who was running in the resistance was used to see.
“Well? Come here.” Erik tested the water, and he felt the metal still wrapped around Charles’ legs coming closer. When he looked up Charles’ eyes were wide, surprised that he had moved on just an off handed command and Erik sighed, holding up his hand and pulling him the rest of the way. “Strip,” he said, standing to grab soap and a washcloth.
He turned around to see Charles standing rigid straight, frozen in place, forcibly fighting the order. Erik sighed again, putting the soap down and then placing his hand on Charles’ cheek, opening his mind to him.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to clean your wrists.” He said it as he tried to push the idea to the front of his mind. “I’m not getting into the bath with you. Nothing. Okay?”
Charles’ eyes disconnected for a moment and when they refocused he blushed, eyes averting from Erik’s stare. “No, no. Of course. I just. It’s nothing.”
Erik snorted, dropping his hand and turning back to the tub. He heard the whisper of fabric being removed, dropping to the floor. Charles took a step forward and Erik turned back around, dropping to his knees. He ignored Charles’ sharp intake of breath, using a mixture of his powers and hands to undo the metal around his ankles.
He wouldn’t need these bands in the kitchens.
Erik stood up after he had removed both bands and he offered Charles his hand. “Need help getting in?”
Charles flushed as he put his hand in Erik’s, climbing into the tub. As he settled in Erik grabbed the washcloth, wetting it and scrubbing it on the soap before he took Charles’ wrist.
Neither of them spoke as Erik washed away the blood, getting a better look at how deep the metal had cut. It seemed like only the edges of metal had tightened around his wrists, digging in until they had cut flesh, so it wasn’t as bad as if Erik had made the whole band crush. If that had been the case he’d be dealing with two broken wrists instead.
He didn’t need to say anything about being sorry because Charles no doubt heard every thought, and it would be pointless to repeat the sentiment out loud.
Charles opened his mouth, like he was going to refute that point, and then shut it, thinking better of it.
Erik put his wrists down into the water once he was sure they were cleaned, and then checked Charles over for any other mark. He was satisfied when he saw there weren’t any.
“I’m going to get you a uniform. The kitchen staff will supply you with anything else you’ll need once you’re down there.” He stood up, handing the washcloth to Charles, who looked flabbergasted. “Take your time. I’ll bandage your wrists when you get out.”
He was almost out the door when he heard Charles’ whispered “thank you.” He paused, feeling a swell of pride, and then kept walking. He tossed the suit Charles had been wearing when he was gifted to him into the laundry, and opened the door to his room, intent on getting someone to get a slave uniform for him.
Emma was standing there, uniform in hand.
Erik glared at first her and then the grey jumpsuit. He snatched them from her hand. “Thanks.”
She smirked. “Sebastian is disappointed you’re giving him away so soon. Was he not up to your tastes?”
“I don’t need a slave. I’ve told Sebastian this before. And if I ever decide to take one, it would be my choice, not some gift.” Emma arched her eyebrow and Erik growled. “Get out of my head.”
The corner of her mouth twitched as she tried not to raise it into a smirk. “You didn’t seem to mind your slave in there.”
Erik snarled and slammed the door in her face, blocking out the sound of her laugh.
He tossed the uniform on his bed, rubbing his face. He’d need to wash up before taking Charles downstairs. He looked into the bathroom where Charles was neck deep in the water. He wondered what he could be thinking about, lost in that mind of his. Did he have a plan? Did he think he was going to get free? Erik shook his head, clearing it of that train of thought.
He didn’t care.
Charles wasn’t his responsibility.
The kitchens were located in the basement, and while most people hated them for the lack of windows and the hot and humid air, Erik liked them. Mostly because of the metal that hummed at him from all sides from all the equipment they used in the kitchens. Sure it was still physically muggy down there, but it had been one place Erik could run to when he had been young, after lessons with Shaw, where metal was a friend of his again and not something frightening.
The kitchen slaves had gotten used to him, and even now that he was grown up, and didn’t hide anymore when he got stressed, they still had a soft spot for him. Which is why when, after he had carefully bandaged Charles’ wrists, applying some salve to make sure the cuts healed, and he himself had washed up, he showed up to the kitchens right before lunch unannounced one of the slaves immediately put together a plate of snacks for him.
He took the plate with a smile, even though he wasn’t too hungry, and absently offered a piece of fruit to Charles. He was standing awkwardly beside Erik, obviously unsure if he was expected to kneel and lean against the high stool that Erik was sitting in, or if he could stand to look over the table. When he shook his head, refusing the fruit, Erik shrugged and took a bite out of it anyway. No reason to waste food.
He was waiting for one of the older slaves to come by, one of the ones he knew ran the kitchen, so he could hand over Charles, be done with it and go back to his life. He knew that one would show up soon enough, just to make sure he was being taken care of down here, so there was no reason to stop one of the many lesser slaves running about trying to get lunch ready and order them to get him one.
He offered Charles another piece of food, this time some bread, and again he shook his head. Erik thought to mention that he wasn’t likely to get a treat like this again any time soon, but then remembered he didn’t care and went back to picking at the plate. He kept one eye on the slaves passing by, always on the lookout for one of the higher ups, and one eye on Charles, who finally had decided it was okay to slide into the stool beside Erik, and stealthily try to pick a grape and piece of cheese off the plate. Erik just nudged it closer to him, already fully. By the time one of the older slaves finally had time to stop by to check on him Charles was openly eating from the plate.
“Mr. Lensherr.” The mutant who stopped was broad shouldered, with a mop of blond hair that blended into his beard. Erik grinned, recognizing him as one of the heads of the kitchen.
“Victor,” Erik said, not getting up. Victor didn’t wear a collar like the others, but he was still a slave. “I’ve got a present for you.”
Erik felt Charles freeze, his head snapping up to look from Victor to Erik. Victor raised an eyebrow, looking over to Charles, where he was still sitting on the stool. He inclined his chin towards Charles in question and Erik nodded his head.
“I don’t need him, so I’m giving him to the kitchens. I figure you always need an extra pair of hands down here.”
Victor’s face broke out into a grin, showing off his canine teeth. Erik was impressed that Charles didn’t flinch, just bent his head.
“I’ll find a purpose for him at the very least,” Victor ground out and then he pitched his voice loud, the one he used to get the whole kitchen to freeze. “Why are you sitting? Get up!” Charles jolted, tripping as his feet commanded him up out off the stool, even as his mind tried to protest the order. “Over here. Let me see you.”
Erik watched Charles fight his instincts and it jolted through him that no one knew yet that he wasn’t dominant by nature. They’d find out by the end of the night no doubt, if the way Victor’s eyes were raking up his body was any hint. Victor grabbed Charles’ forearm, and he winced, probably more from the images he was being forced to see because of the contact and not because of the strength of his grip. Charles struck him as someone who could withstand a lot of physical pain before breaking.
That would help him down here.
“He’ll do,” Victor said, shooting Erik a wide smile, hand still on Charles’ forearm. “Thank you for your donation Mr. Lensherr.”
Erik waved off the niceties, and he pushed the plate away from him. His stomach was knotted up suddenly and he couldn’t stand the sight of food. He’d need to get out of the kitchens.
Victor began to drag Charles off, barking the names of at least five other slaves to follow him. Erik watched Charles’ shoulders slump, his head bent as he tried to fight as subtly as possible. He wondered what could be going through Victor’s mind, and if Charles had decided it was just better to block the thoughts out, instead of getting caught up in them.
He’d probably be experiencing the thoughts soon enough, Erik thought as he pushed his stool back, getting off it and turning to walk back upstairs. He needed to train, and taking care of this had replaced his normal running time. He looked one last time down the hall; he could still feel the metal on Charles’ skull, and it helped him focus his eyes to where he could still see Charles being dragged further down the hall.
Erik’s stomach tightened and he forced himself to look away, even as he reached out with his powers to follow where Charles was going. It helped that the metal was unique, and Erik traced it as Charles was pulled around a corner, towards the slave quarters. Erik wished he was naïve enough to believe he was just being shown his new bunk, but he knew better, and it stung that he even cared.
He paused halfway up the stairs, closed his eyes and wondered if Charles had found some way to implant a suggestion or something in his mind that made him care. Then he remembered. No. Charles was defenseless. He had been stripped of his power.
Erik took a step back, and hated himself, just a little, as he retraced his steps, until he was stalking through the kitchens, turning down to the slave quarters. There was a commotion going on, Victor arguing with another of the head slaves, a weedy man who Erik had just heard referred to as “Toad.”
“No we can’t rip the barrier off, that’ll unleash his powers,” Victor was saying.
“How dangerous could it be? And besides, who knows maybe the shock will lessen the affect,” Toad was arguing back. “It’ll be fun.”
Charles was defiantly standing to the side, like he couldn’t care less about his position.
Victor grabbed Toad by the neck, lifting him off the ground and slamming him back against a wall. Toad’s tongue flicked out, slapping Victor’s head to the side with the speed and force of the strike.
Erik cleared his throat just as Victor raised his fist. Charles head snapped right to him and Victor had enough respect to step back just a bit, Toad still held against the wall.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Erik said with a nod towards Charles. He thought about saying something else to explain the change, giving some inane reason, brushing the whole thing aside. It was just a game, something to rile up the slave. Make him realize how his life depended on the whims of Erik. Then he remembered he had no need to explain himself and merely waited as Victor held back a snarl, a few of the other slaves fidgeting in anger as well. They couldn’t do anything to him.
As Erik walked out of the kitchens, Charles behind him, he tried not to think about what he was going to say if Sebastian asked him about this incident. He focused instead on what he was going to do with Charles because he honestly had no idea where to start.
“Sit,” Erik ordered once they got back to his room. He pointed vaguely to the bed and didn’t pay attention as Charles walked stiffly to it, turning around and dropping down on the edge of the bed heavily.
His mind was racing with ideas of what to do. Go talk to Raven? No. He wouldn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what to think right now. He went about that all wrong; he saw that now. He had been hasty, trying to get Charles back. He should have waited, let it fester so he didn’t come off as weak.
But it made him ill, the idea of someone keeping Charles. Of someone hurting him. He didn’t know why. There were plenty of other slaves here in the manor, plenty who suppressed their powers because their masters wanted them to. But the thing was, they wanted that. They liked it. Charles. Charles had no choice. It had been forced on him.
Erik growled, eyes catching the four bands he had taken off of Charles just a few hours ago. He’d need to redo them. They weren’t a collar- he wasn’t going to collar the man, but he needed a way to keep a link to him. The metal attached to his skull was unique but Erik didn’t want to pull at that, afraid it would detach and cause damage. The bands would work just fine.
He sat down, calling them over to him with a raised hand. It would distract him, working on them. They were cheap metal, more nickel than anything else, even though they were supposed to pass for silver. He’d need to rebuild them from scratch essentially before they were anything he’d want Charles to wear, but they were a good starting point.
He finished the first one, stretched and reformed from strips of silver he had pulled from a candle holder, and iron that he kept in a hidden compartment in the bedside drawer. He would never be without a weapon, he thought with a grin as he looked at his work. The first band was good, the two colors of metal fused together in an almost decorative way. If it weren’t for the fact that Charles was going to have one on both wrist, it could pass as a bracelet.
Now that he knew what he wanted it was easier to make the other three bands. He didn’t notice the time pass, only realizing it was dinner because someone had knocked on the door and he had sent them away. His stomach growling told him that he’d regret that, and he couldn’t even imagine what Charles felt like, since lunch had been sparse and Erik didn’t know the last time he had eaten.
Erik turned to look at him, wondering what he had been doing while he had been working. Probably curled up and fallen asleep. So he was surprised to see the back of him, still sitting at the edge of the bed like he hadn’t moved at all.
That scared him more than he expected because it didn’t seem like something where Charles had gotten up and come back to the same place in fear that he couldn’t go anywhere without Erik’s permission. It was like he hadn’t moved. At all.
“Charles,” he said, trying to get his attention.
He kept still.
Erik frowned and reached over the bed, putting his hand on Charles’ shoulder, giving him a soft shake. He didn’t react, and Erik shifted so he could turn him around. His hand touched Charles’ neck, using it for leverage.
Charles jerked, eyes going wide and his breathing picked up. Erik was shocked to see the blue eyes looked fogged over, like nothing was going on in there. Charles’ shoulders started to shake, and he began to fold in on himself.
Erik started, not sure what was happening and he tried to pull away, get a better angle so he could face Charles, look him in the eye. Figure out what was wrong. Charles grabbed his hand, forcing it flush against his skin. Erik tried to shift, getting to his knees as Charles turned just a bit, wrapping his hands around Erik’s wrists, and then his forearm, both hands holding tightly as he shook and began to sweat.
Erik didn’t know what was going on, and he tried to pull away, but Charles held him tight. He was surprised by how strong he was.
“Charles,” he tried again.
“I- Give me a moment.” His voice was scratchy.
Erik stayed there, keeping his hands on Charles’ neck as he shook, trying to take deep breaths to even his breathing and failing. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Did he try to calm him? Would that help? He was completely lost. The man was going to hyperventilate right there, pass out and die all because Erik had no idea how to calm him down.
He took a deep breath, and pushed their foreheads together, hoping it would do something. He thought calming thoughts: what he had been feeling as he had been working with the metal, how he felt sparring with Raven, getting his ass kicked because she’d gotten ridiculously flexible since starting her training. He wasn’t sure if it was helping, even as he started to whisper order after order of “breathe, breathe dammit.”
Erik didn’t notice when he started to calm down, just that finally his wrists were being let go and Charles was pulling away from him. He grabbed hold of him, pulling him back across the bed so he could look in his eyes. The blue had cleared up. He looked like he was actually in there, not hidden away inside the depths of his brain.
Charles took another deep breath, let it out shakily. “Don’t. Do. That. Again.”
Erik wasn’t sure what he was asking for, but he just nodded, pressing their foreheads back together. “Okay. Okay, just. Don’t do that again.”
He chuckled weakly. “I’ll try.” He tried to extract himself again, pulling away from Erik slowly, and this time he let him. Charles didn’t leave the bed though, and his hands were still shaking faintly.
“I’ll call down for food,” Erik said, getting off the bed to go around so he could face Charles. He saw Charles open his mouth, probably to argue, maybe to make a suggestion that he could get food. He was the slave after all. He closed it though, and just nodded.
“Thank you,” he said. “For everything,” he added on for clarification.
Erik stood in front of him and placed his hand on Charles’ shoulder, pulling him forward so he was leaning against Erik’s stomach. “Tell me what happened.”
Charles sighed, resting more of his weight against Erik. It felt nice. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s a side effect of the metal blocking. I can’t filter thoughts out properly, and the thoughts from earlier were not exactly the best.” He broke off with a soft laugh, pulling himself away.
Erik forced him back to his hip, running his hand over the metal on Charles’ head. He couldn’t do anything about that, except make sure Charles didn’t touch anyone else. Or at least make sure that if he does he wasn’t forced to sit there and let it fester for hours. “Have the thoughts filtered out?”
Charles nodded, turning his face away so he wasn’t nodding into Erik. “I think so. I can’t hear them anymore. Just yours.”
That would have to do.
Charles tried to pull back again and this time Erik let him, but he didn’t move. He reached out his hand instead, pulling the bands he had made over to him. Charles watched them float by his head, and stayed silent as Erik ran his fingers over the metal again, warming them up just a bit.
“I’m not collaring you,” Erik said as he saw Charles’ eyes focused on the bands wearily. “I recrafted these. They’ll help me keep track of you.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself.” Charles’ voice had dropped, soft and tender and it took Erik by surprise, even if the words were technically true.
“I want to.”
Charles didn’t say anything to that, even though his eyes widened just a bit. He let Erik take each of his wrists though, and watched him as he attached the bands, stretching them with his power once they were on so this time the metal wouldn’t chafe him.
There was no ceremony to it, and once Erik had gotten both ankles done he patted Charles’ calf, and then tugged on the uniform. That would need to change. He had never been a fan of it on others and he wouldn’t have his own slave in one. Even if Charles wasn’t collared.
He looked up, and then got off of his knees. He should have an extra change of clothes. They would be too big for him, but they would work until Erik got around to getting more clothing for him. He tossed a shirt and trainer pants on the bed and when he turned back around Charles was staring at the clothes hesitatingly.
“Those are for you. I’ll get you your own clothing tomorrow.”
Charles touched the clothes, and then the buttons of his one piece jumper. “I’m fine with just this. I don’t need to inconvenience you.”
Erik gave him a look and walked back up to him, putting his hands over Charles’. He was free to read Erik’s mind as he got back to his knees so he was more comfortable as he unbuttoned the front of the uniform.
“You’re not,” he said. As an afterthought he tacked on, “I never wanted my slave in something like this.”
He tried to ignore the slight smile Charles gave him, and focused on getting him out of the damn uniform and into the other clothing. He’d worry about what to do with him on a more permanent base tomorrow.
Chapter 3
Author: kayevelyn
Fandom: X-men
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Rating: +17
Summary: Erik is the heir to the mutant world, and he has just been gifted with a new present.
Warnings: BDSM, Kink
Notes: I got inspiration for this from a mixture of this prompt and this prompt from the meme.
I am.... so drained omg. RL is a bitch and just... yeah. I write slow when that happens. I'll try to update the next chapter faster but... no guarantees :( And LOL this is not even like half of what this chapter was supposed to be :\ So.... I NO LONGER KNOW HOW LONG THIS FIC IS GONNA BE AND LAST TIME THIS HAPPENED I ENDED UP WRITING AN 80K FIC (that is still WIP) FML.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Metal woke him up; specifically two different metals scrapping against each other making a spine pinching sound. Erik raised his hand, closing it into a fist to stop the sound.
Blessed silence.
Erik buried his face back into the pillow, yawning. His internal clock told him it was far too early to be getting up, and since he’d tolerated the party as long as he had, Sebastian couldn’t say anything about him sleeping in.
Someone let out a whimper and Erik’s eyes flew open.
The party.
His gift.
The metal scrapping together.
He bolted up, and saw the top of Charles’ head. He crawled to the end of the bed, trying to see what had happened. There was blood and Erik cursed, waving his hand to disengage the metal from around his wrists. They were chaffed, cut and Erik removed the metal bands, dropping them to the ground with a thud. He cursed again, turning Charles’ hands over and over to see the damage.
“The cuts are fresh, from when you - uh - woke up I’m guessing,” Charles supplied, and Erik looked at his face. He looked exhausted, and Erik could guess he hadn’t slept. Charles didn’t say anything, just watched as Erik examined each cut before sighing and climbing out of bed.
“Follow me,” Erik said, walking to the bathroom. He turned on the tap to the tub, filling it with warm water.
Charles stood shaky in the doorway, watching him. His eyes looked around. It wasn’t grand, nothing like Sebastian’s rooms, Erik knew, but it was probably more ornate than someone who was running in the resistance was used to see.
“Well? Come here.” Erik tested the water, and he felt the metal still wrapped around Charles’ legs coming closer. When he looked up Charles’ eyes were wide, surprised that he had moved on just an off handed command and Erik sighed, holding up his hand and pulling him the rest of the way. “Strip,” he said, standing to grab soap and a washcloth.
He turned around to see Charles standing rigid straight, frozen in place, forcibly fighting the order. Erik sighed again, putting the soap down and then placing his hand on Charles’ cheek, opening his mind to him.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to clean your wrists.” He said it as he tried to push the idea to the front of his mind. “I’m not getting into the bath with you. Nothing. Okay?”
Charles’ eyes disconnected for a moment and when they refocused he blushed, eyes averting from Erik’s stare. “No, no. Of course. I just. It’s nothing.”
Erik snorted, dropping his hand and turning back to the tub. He heard the whisper of fabric being removed, dropping to the floor. Charles took a step forward and Erik turned back around, dropping to his knees. He ignored Charles’ sharp intake of breath, using a mixture of his powers and hands to undo the metal around his ankles.
He wouldn’t need these bands in the kitchens.
Erik stood up after he had removed both bands and he offered Charles his hand. “Need help getting in?”
Charles flushed as he put his hand in Erik’s, climbing into the tub. As he settled in Erik grabbed the washcloth, wetting it and scrubbing it on the soap before he took Charles’ wrist.
Neither of them spoke as Erik washed away the blood, getting a better look at how deep the metal had cut. It seemed like only the edges of metal had tightened around his wrists, digging in until they had cut flesh, so it wasn’t as bad as if Erik had made the whole band crush. If that had been the case he’d be dealing with two broken wrists instead.
He didn’t need to say anything about being sorry because Charles no doubt heard every thought, and it would be pointless to repeat the sentiment out loud.
Charles opened his mouth, like he was going to refute that point, and then shut it, thinking better of it.
Erik put his wrists down into the water once he was sure they were cleaned, and then checked Charles over for any other mark. He was satisfied when he saw there weren’t any.
“I’m going to get you a uniform. The kitchen staff will supply you with anything else you’ll need once you’re down there.” He stood up, handing the washcloth to Charles, who looked flabbergasted. “Take your time. I’ll bandage your wrists when you get out.”
He was almost out the door when he heard Charles’ whispered “thank you.” He paused, feeling a swell of pride, and then kept walking. He tossed the suit Charles had been wearing when he was gifted to him into the laundry, and opened the door to his room, intent on getting someone to get a slave uniform for him.
Emma was standing there, uniform in hand.
Erik glared at first her and then the grey jumpsuit. He snatched them from her hand. “Thanks.”
She smirked. “Sebastian is disappointed you’re giving him away so soon. Was he not up to your tastes?”
“I don’t need a slave. I’ve told Sebastian this before. And if I ever decide to take one, it would be my choice, not some gift.” Emma arched her eyebrow and Erik growled. “Get out of my head.”
The corner of her mouth twitched as she tried not to raise it into a smirk. “You didn’t seem to mind your slave in there.”
Erik snarled and slammed the door in her face, blocking out the sound of her laugh.
He tossed the uniform on his bed, rubbing his face. He’d need to wash up before taking Charles downstairs. He looked into the bathroom where Charles was neck deep in the water. He wondered what he could be thinking about, lost in that mind of his. Did he have a plan? Did he think he was going to get free? Erik shook his head, clearing it of that train of thought.
He didn’t care.
Charles wasn’t his responsibility.
The kitchens were located in the basement, and while most people hated them for the lack of windows and the hot and humid air, Erik liked them. Mostly because of the metal that hummed at him from all sides from all the equipment they used in the kitchens. Sure it was still physically muggy down there, but it had been one place Erik could run to when he had been young, after lessons with Shaw, where metal was a friend of his again and not something frightening.
The kitchen slaves had gotten used to him, and even now that he was grown up, and didn’t hide anymore when he got stressed, they still had a soft spot for him. Which is why when, after he had carefully bandaged Charles’ wrists, applying some salve to make sure the cuts healed, and he himself had washed up, he showed up to the kitchens right before lunch unannounced one of the slaves immediately put together a plate of snacks for him.
He took the plate with a smile, even though he wasn’t too hungry, and absently offered a piece of fruit to Charles. He was standing awkwardly beside Erik, obviously unsure if he was expected to kneel and lean against the high stool that Erik was sitting in, or if he could stand to look over the table. When he shook his head, refusing the fruit, Erik shrugged and took a bite out of it anyway. No reason to waste food.
He was waiting for one of the older slaves to come by, one of the ones he knew ran the kitchen, so he could hand over Charles, be done with it and go back to his life. He knew that one would show up soon enough, just to make sure he was being taken care of down here, so there was no reason to stop one of the many lesser slaves running about trying to get lunch ready and order them to get him one.
He offered Charles another piece of food, this time some bread, and again he shook his head. Erik thought to mention that he wasn’t likely to get a treat like this again any time soon, but then remembered he didn’t care and went back to picking at the plate. He kept one eye on the slaves passing by, always on the lookout for one of the higher ups, and one eye on Charles, who finally had decided it was okay to slide into the stool beside Erik, and stealthily try to pick a grape and piece of cheese off the plate. Erik just nudged it closer to him, already fully. By the time one of the older slaves finally had time to stop by to check on him Charles was openly eating from the plate.
“Mr. Lensherr.” The mutant who stopped was broad shouldered, with a mop of blond hair that blended into his beard. Erik grinned, recognizing him as one of the heads of the kitchen.
“Victor,” Erik said, not getting up. Victor didn’t wear a collar like the others, but he was still a slave. “I’ve got a present for you.”
Erik felt Charles freeze, his head snapping up to look from Victor to Erik. Victor raised an eyebrow, looking over to Charles, where he was still sitting on the stool. He inclined his chin towards Charles in question and Erik nodded his head.
“I don’t need him, so I’m giving him to the kitchens. I figure you always need an extra pair of hands down here.”
Victor’s face broke out into a grin, showing off his canine teeth. Erik was impressed that Charles didn’t flinch, just bent his head.
“I’ll find a purpose for him at the very least,” Victor ground out and then he pitched his voice loud, the one he used to get the whole kitchen to freeze. “Why are you sitting? Get up!” Charles jolted, tripping as his feet commanded him up out off the stool, even as his mind tried to protest the order. “Over here. Let me see you.”
Erik watched Charles fight his instincts and it jolted through him that no one knew yet that he wasn’t dominant by nature. They’d find out by the end of the night no doubt, if the way Victor’s eyes were raking up his body was any hint. Victor grabbed Charles’ forearm, and he winced, probably more from the images he was being forced to see because of the contact and not because of the strength of his grip. Charles struck him as someone who could withstand a lot of physical pain before breaking.
That would help him down here.
“He’ll do,” Victor said, shooting Erik a wide smile, hand still on Charles’ forearm. “Thank you for your donation Mr. Lensherr.”
Erik waved off the niceties, and he pushed the plate away from him. His stomach was knotted up suddenly and he couldn’t stand the sight of food. He’d need to get out of the kitchens.
Victor began to drag Charles off, barking the names of at least five other slaves to follow him. Erik watched Charles’ shoulders slump, his head bent as he tried to fight as subtly as possible. He wondered what could be going through Victor’s mind, and if Charles had decided it was just better to block the thoughts out, instead of getting caught up in them.
He’d probably be experiencing the thoughts soon enough, Erik thought as he pushed his stool back, getting off it and turning to walk back upstairs. He needed to train, and taking care of this had replaced his normal running time. He looked one last time down the hall; he could still feel the metal on Charles’ skull, and it helped him focus his eyes to where he could still see Charles being dragged further down the hall.
Erik’s stomach tightened and he forced himself to look away, even as he reached out with his powers to follow where Charles was going. It helped that the metal was unique, and Erik traced it as Charles was pulled around a corner, towards the slave quarters. Erik wished he was naïve enough to believe he was just being shown his new bunk, but he knew better, and it stung that he even cared.
He paused halfway up the stairs, closed his eyes and wondered if Charles had found some way to implant a suggestion or something in his mind that made him care. Then he remembered. No. Charles was defenseless. He had been stripped of his power.
Erik took a step back, and hated himself, just a little, as he retraced his steps, until he was stalking through the kitchens, turning down to the slave quarters. There was a commotion going on, Victor arguing with another of the head slaves, a weedy man who Erik had just heard referred to as “Toad.”
“No we can’t rip the barrier off, that’ll unleash his powers,” Victor was saying.
“How dangerous could it be? And besides, who knows maybe the shock will lessen the affect,” Toad was arguing back. “It’ll be fun.”
Charles was defiantly standing to the side, like he couldn’t care less about his position.
Victor grabbed Toad by the neck, lifting him off the ground and slamming him back against a wall. Toad’s tongue flicked out, slapping Victor’s head to the side with the speed and force of the strike.
Erik cleared his throat just as Victor raised his fist. Charles head snapped right to him and Victor had enough respect to step back just a bit, Toad still held against the wall.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Erik said with a nod towards Charles. He thought about saying something else to explain the change, giving some inane reason, brushing the whole thing aside. It was just a game, something to rile up the slave. Make him realize how his life depended on the whims of Erik. Then he remembered he had no need to explain himself and merely waited as Victor held back a snarl, a few of the other slaves fidgeting in anger as well. They couldn’t do anything to him.
As Erik walked out of the kitchens, Charles behind him, he tried not to think about what he was going to say if Sebastian asked him about this incident. He focused instead on what he was going to do with Charles because he honestly had no idea where to start.
“Sit,” Erik ordered once they got back to his room. He pointed vaguely to the bed and didn’t pay attention as Charles walked stiffly to it, turning around and dropping down on the edge of the bed heavily.
His mind was racing with ideas of what to do. Go talk to Raven? No. He wouldn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what to think right now. He went about that all wrong; he saw that now. He had been hasty, trying to get Charles back. He should have waited, let it fester so he didn’t come off as weak.
But it made him ill, the idea of someone keeping Charles. Of someone hurting him. He didn’t know why. There were plenty of other slaves here in the manor, plenty who suppressed their powers because their masters wanted them to. But the thing was, they wanted that. They liked it. Charles. Charles had no choice. It had been forced on him.
Erik growled, eyes catching the four bands he had taken off of Charles just a few hours ago. He’d need to redo them. They weren’t a collar- he wasn’t going to collar the man, but he needed a way to keep a link to him. The metal attached to his skull was unique but Erik didn’t want to pull at that, afraid it would detach and cause damage. The bands would work just fine.
He sat down, calling them over to him with a raised hand. It would distract him, working on them. They were cheap metal, more nickel than anything else, even though they were supposed to pass for silver. He’d need to rebuild them from scratch essentially before they were anything he’d want Charles to wear, but they were a good starting point.
He finished the first one, stretched and reformed from strips of silver he had pulled from a candle holder, and iron that he kept in a hidden compartment in the bedside drawer. He would never be without a weapon, he thought with a grin as he looked at his work. The first band was good, the two colors of metal fused together in an almost decorative way. If it weren’t for the fact that Charles was going to have one on both wrist, it could pass as a bracelet.
Now that he knew what he wanted it was easier to make the other three bands. He didn’t notice the time pass, only realizing it was dinner because someone had knocked on the door and he had sent them away. His stomach growling told him that he’d regret that, and he couldn’t even imagine what Charles felt like, since lunch had been sparse and Erik didn’t know the last time he had eaten.
Erik turned to look at him, wondering what he had been doing while he had been working. Probably curled up and fallen asleep. So he was surprised to see the back of him, still sitting at the edge of the bed like he hadn’t moved at all.
That scared him more than he expected because it didn’t seem like something where Charles had gotten up and come back to the same place in fear that he couldn’t go anywhere without Erik’s permission. It was like he hadn’t moved. At all.
“Charles,” he said, trying to get his attention.
He kept still.
Erik frowned and reached over the bed, putting his hand on Charles’ shoulder, giving him a soft shake. He didn’t react, and Erik shifted so he could turn him around. His hand touched Charles’ neck, using it for leverage.
Charles jerked, eyes going wide and his breathing picked up. Erik was shocked to see the blue eyes looked fogged over, like nothing was going on in there. Charles’ shoulders started to shake, and he began to fold in on himself.
Erik started, not sure what was happening and he tried to pull away, get a better angle so he could face Charles, look him in the eye. Figure out what was wrong. Charles grabbed his hand, forcing it flush against his skin. Erik tried to shift, getting to his knees as Charles turned just a bit, wrapping his hands around Erik’s wrists, and then his forearm, both hands holding tightly as he shook and began to sweat.
Erik didn’t know what was going on, and he tried to pull away, but Charles held him tight. He was surprised by how strong he was.
“Charles,” he tried again.
“I- Give me a moment.” His voice was scratchy.
Erik stayed there, keeping his hands on Charles’ neck as he shook, trying to take deep breaths to even his breathing and failing. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Did he try to calm him? Would that help? He was completely lost. The man was going to hyperventilate right there, pass out and die all because Erik had no idea how to calm him down.
He took a deep breath, and pushed their foreheads together, hoping it would do something. He thought calming thoughts: what he had been feeling as he had been working with the metal, how he felt sparring with Raven, getting his ass kicked because she’d gotten ridiculously flexible since starting her training. He wasn’t sure if it was helping, even as he started to whisper order after order of “breathe, breathe dammit.”
Erik didn’t notice when he started to calm down, just that finally his wrists were being let go and Charles was pulling away from him. He grabbed hold of him, pulling him back across the bed so he could look in his eyes. The blue had cleared up. He looked like he was actually in there, not hidden away inside the depths of his brain.
Charles took another deep breath, let it out shakily. “Don’t. Do. That. Again.”
Erik wasn’t sure what he was asking for, but he just nodded, pressing their foreheads back together. “Okay. Okay, just. Don’t do that again.”
He chuckled weakly. “I’ll try.” He tried to extract himself again, pulling away from Erik slowly, and this time he let him. Charles didn’t leave the bed though, and his hands were still shaking faintly.
“I’ll call down for food,” Erik said, getting off the bed to go around so he could face Charles. He saw Charles open his mouth, probably to argue, maybe to make a suggestion that he could get food. He was the slave after all. He closed it though, and just nodded.
“Thank you,” he said. “For everything,” he added on for clarification.
Erik stood in front of him and placed his hand on Charles’ shoulder, pulling him forward so he was leaning against Erik’s stomach. “Tell me what happened.”
Charles sighed, resting more of his weight against Erik. It felt nice. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s a side effect of the metal blocking. I can’t filter thoughts out properly, and the thoughts from earlier were not exactly the best.” He broke off with a soft laugh, pulling himself away.
Erik forced him back to his hip, running his hand over the metal on Charles’ head. He couldn’t do anything about that, except make sure Charles didn’t touch anyone else. Or at least make sure that if he does he wasn’t forced to sit there and let it fester for hours. “Have the thoughts filtered out?”
Charles nodded, turning his face away so he wasn’t nodding into Erik. “I think so. I can’t hear them anymore. Just yours.”
That would have to do.
Charles tried to pull back again and this time Erik let him, but he didn’t move. He reached out his hand instead, pulling the bands he had made over to him. Charles watched them float by his head, and stayed silent as Erik ran his fingers over the metal again, warming them up just a bit.
“I’m not collaring you,” Erik said as he saw Charles’ eyes focused on the bands wearily. “I recrafted these. They’ll help me keep track of you.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself.” Charles’ voice had dropped, soft and tender and it took Erik by surprise, even if the words were technically true.
“I want to.”
Charles didn’t say anything to that, even though his eyes widened just a bit. He let Erik take each of his wrists though, and watched him as he attached the bands, stretching them with his power once they were on so this time the metal wouldn’t chafe him.
There was no ceremony to it, and once Erik had gotten both ankles done he patted Charles’ calf, and then tugged on the uniform. That would need to change. He had never been a fan of it on others and he wouldn’t have his own slave in one. Even if Charles wasn’t collared.
He looked up, and then got off of his knees. He should have an extra change of clothes. They would be too big for him, but they would work until Erik got around to getting more clothing for him. He tossed a shirt and trainer pants on the bed and when he turned back around Charles was staring at the clothes hesitatingly.
“Those are for you. I’ll get you your own clothing tomorrow.”
Charles touched the clothes, and then the buttons of his one piece jumper. “I’m fine with just this. I don’t need to inconvenience you.”
Erik gave him a look and walked back up to him, putting his hands over Charles’. He was free to read Erik’s mind as he got back to his knees so he was more comfortable as he unbuttoned the front of the uniform.
“You’re not,” he said. As an afterthought he tacked on, “I never wanted my slave in something like this.”
He tried to ignore the slight smile Charles gave him, and focused on getting him out of the damn uniform and into the other clothing. He’d worry about what to do with him on a more permanent base tomorrow.
Chapter 3