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5580FIC: Unexpected Love, 1/1, Charles/Erik, NC-17

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  • Henrika
    Jan 1 4:39 PM
      Title: Unexpected Love

      Rating: A hard NC-17 for violence and non-con sex (i.e. rape).

      Pairing: Charles/Erik and Erik/Others. (In this story Erik is a rent-
      boy, so it's basically Erik/anyone who pays. ;)

      Fandom: X-men: The Movie, prior to both movies.

      Summary: Kind of an AU, I guess. An alternate version of how Charles
      and Erik met. In this story a young Charles Xavier goes to find a
      male prostitute and finds Erik Lehnsherr.

      Archive: My personal site,
      http://www.geocities.com/henrika_amanda/Index.html and list
      archives. Anyone else, please ask me first.

      A/N and warnings: This is a dark story. Got it? It deals with rape,
      prostitution, violence, abuse and a good deal of angst (but also
      kindness, compassion and love.) If you can't handle these
      subjects –
      don't read any further. It's that simple. I don't want
      any flames
      regarding the content of this story. (Also, I know Xavier said he
      was 17 when he met Erik, but in this story they're both 19, just
      make it more fitting.)

      Feedback: Is very welcome, of course, and constructive criticism is
      preferred, but like I said; no flames. My email is


      Charles Francis Xavier was free now. Free to do whatever he wanted
      without being supervised and told what was good or bad, right or
      wrong. He was a man now, and free to make his own choices.

      Still, Charles was afraid. He was the master of the Xavier-estate;
      the family mansion he'd inherited from his parents, and the vast
      building often seemed all too quiet and lonely, especially at
      nights. No voices except his own sounded within the walls, and when
      he made a noise himself the building amplified the echo of it
      multiple times. The place where he grew up had become a keep.

      Eight months had passed since the death of his parents and still
      Charles hadn't managed – or dared – to do what filled his
      every hour of his life – finding someone to share the lonely
      fortress with. That would never have been possible if his parents
      were still alive, because young women did not attract Charles'
      instead he was drawn to members of his own sex.

      When he was younger the feeling often confused and disturbed him,
      but at the age of 19 he had come to terms with his so-
      called "anomaly" and knew that if he'd ever get himself a
      mate, it
      would be a man.

      His parents' death certainly grieved him, but at the same time he
      was relieved to know they were gone. While they were alive he'd
      forced to wear a mask every day of his life, pretending to be
      someone he wasn't. When they died Charles did everything that was
      expected of a grieving young man, but inside he could hardly wait
      for the freedom their absence would give him.

      Eight months had passed, and Charles was still hiding in his keep.
      He'd lost contact with almost all his friends, and didn't
      feel like
      socializing with anyone. Instead of becoming free, he had made
      himself prisoner to his own home.

      One day Charles had had enough of being alone. He needed company
      of the sexual kind, that is – even if it was just for one night.
      didn't trust his basically non-existent social skills to go to
      someplace and just hope for the best, but decided even a prostitute
      would do.

      He knew where most of them could be found; the majority was female,
      but he didn't believe there would be any trouble finding a young
      willing to sell his body for one evening.

      Charles almost cringed when he thought of what he was about to do,
      but his craving for closeness of that kind was stronger than his
      conscience. So be it. Just one night…

      So Charles sat in his car – an expensive red Mercedes his parents
      had given him on his 18th birthday – and drove down to the
      of the city where prostitutes could be found.

      The female ones all looked basically the same; short tight skirts,
      high heels, low-necked shirts, revealing too much of their heaving
      breasts and hard make-up that made them look like… well, whores.

      Of course the women were the first to reach him when he stepped out
      of his car. He could see why. His expensive car and sophisticated
      clothing indicated he had a lot of money, and was therefore
      considered a good catch.

      The female prostitutes regarded him with what they believed were
      seductive looks.

      "Hi darling. Looking for some company tonight?" one of them;
      a short
      blonde woman in her mid twenties asked him. She was actually quite
      pretty, but her make-up and clothing made her look all but decent.

      "Ladies, I…" Charles began and took one step forward,
      holding his
      hands up.

      "I think I could make you feel real good…" another one, a
      with beautiful green eyes said.

      "Hey ladies, I appreciate the offer, but I'm…" Charles
      decided to be
      straight with them. "I am not into… you know. I'm looking
      for a…man."

      "Ohh…." the disappointed female hookers cooed in unison.
      He knew
      each one of them had been hoping to get their hands on him. Wealthy
      and distinguished men were obviously not very common in these

      "If you're seeking a guy, I can show you one," the blonde
      said. "He has quite a few customers, but last time I checked he
      free… Come here, lad, I'll show you…"

      The woman grabbed Charles' arm and he let her drag him away
      the group. There were no male hookers visible right now, so if she
      could take him to someone available he'd thank her.

      "I promise you, he's very pretty," she told him while
      leading him to
      another street. "I'm sure you'll like him. And he's
      cheap, too. And
      young. Your age, probably." She smiled. "I think his name is
      something… Look, there he is," she said and nodded at a shape
      standing some ten yards from the corner of a building.

      "So go get him, boy, before someone else does," she urged him
      then left, probably to look for someone who was interested and could
      pay her a couple of bucks for a fuck, blowjob or whatever service
      she could offer.

      Charles directed his gaze at the young man again. He couldn't
      see what he looked like from such a distance, but decided to have a
      closer look. What she'd told him sounded good.

      The man – or rather he was a boy, Charles noticed – lifted
      his head
      when he heard Charles' steps approaching. He instantly put on a
      business-like, half seductive smile when he saw the potential
      customer. The young man approaching him looked neat and wealthy.
      This was a chance he just couldn't miss.

      "Hello, are you…" Charles began, but was interrupted.

      "Hello, sir, are you looking for some company?" the boy
      pronouncing the words with a heavy German accent. There was no doubt
      he was a foreigner. Charles knew that even without scanning him.

      "Actually, yes, Charles smiled back. "The lady over there
      said that

      "Seven dollars for one hour, and 50 for the entire night,"
      was the
      answer he got. "We will go to your place, if you can drive me

      Charles regarded the boy carefully before accepting the offer. He
      was very much a prostitute, but still there was something very
      different about him. He was around 5'10'' – about two
      inches taller
      than Charles – and very slender in build. His hair was thick and
      dark and very beautiful, framing his thin face and high cheekbones
      elegantly. He had a sharp nose and large pale blue eyes, almost too
      big for his slender features.

      The boy didn't wear any make-up, nor did he dress like the female
      prostitutes. Charles figured he didn't need to. His appearance
      enough to catch a man's interest. His clothing was still cheap
      far too thin for the current weather conditions. Maybe that was one
      reason why the boy was so eager to come with him.

      "Sir?" he asked when he noticed Charles' intense gaze.

      "I'm sorry, yes, that sounds nice," Charles quickly told
      him. "The
      entire night, please, if that's alright with you?"

      "Certainly, sir," the boy replied meekly and gave Charles

      "Perfect. Let's go to my car. And don't call me
      "sir". My name is
      Charles. Charles Xavier. What is your name?" he asked.

      The boy was clearly taken aback by the question. His customers were
      usually just interested in one thing, and never asked for his name.
      Apparently, this one was different. Very different.

      "Erik. Erik Lehnsherr," he replied in a small voice.

      "Nice to meet you, Erik," Charles said truthfully and
      placed his arm around Erik's thin shoulders. "I am sure
      we'll have a
      good time together."

      When they started walking toward his car, Charles clearly noticed
      the boy's limp despite that he tried his best to hide it. To make
      easier for him Charles slowed down and bit and adjusted to Erik's
      pace. When they reached his Mercedes he opened the passenger door
      and motioned at Erik to step inside.

      Erik did, and tried to keep from flinching when he sat down in the
      front seat. Charles noticed that too, but Erik was good at keeping a
      straight face and pretended like it was nothing.

      "Are you alright?" he asked, and Erik nodded, trying to give
      assuring smile.

      "Yes, stiff back, that is all. It's nothing."

      Charles knew that wasn't true, of course, but decided not to
      the discussion further. Hopefully they would get a nice evening.


      "Wow, this place is so big…!" Erik said, staring at the
      estate and marvelling at its size when Charles had taken his car to
      the garage and led him outside. "Is all this yours? You must be
      rich, sir."

      "Yes, I am the master of this house, and yes, I am well off, I
      say," Charles smiled back. "And don't call me sir,

      "I'm sorry, I forgot," Erik said and turned his eyes

      "No worry. Come on, now. Let's get you inside."

      When they got inside the house, Charles first of all took Erik to
      the kitchen to prepare him a nice hot meal. The poor boy was frozen
      and hungry and definitely needed something to warm him up.

      "So, what would you like?" Charles asked while poking through
      fridge for something to fix his guest.

      "What?" Erik asked confusedly, wondering what they were doing
      in the
      kitchen. By now they should be in the bedroom already, and Charles
      should be fucking him into the mattress or maybe have his dick
      sucked, which wasn't that painful.

      "A sandwich, maybe?" Charles asked. "And a nice hot cup
      of tea, to
      warm you up. Would you like that?"

      Being offered food, which had never happened before, made Erik so
      flabbergasted that he could simply nod. Charles just smiled at him,
      giving him a big sandwich and a large cup of warm tea.

      Erik hadn't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, and his
      stomach practically screamed for food. The tea was hot, but that
      didn't bother him one bit. Together with the sandwich he had
      everything down in just five minutes.

      Charles, giving him a kind and sympathetic look, asked if he'd
      some more. Erik shook his head shyly, knowing he had already gotten
      a lot more than he deserved. This man had paid him for sexual
      favours, not to feed him, after all. What was he really? Some kind
      of a saint?

      "Well, if you'd like something, just let me know. Would you
      like to…
      leave the kitchen?"

      Erik noticed the slightly modest tone in his voice. This young man
      hasn't been with a prostitute before, he thought. He's
      probably not
      even had sex before. Very well, I can't say I mind being his

      At first Erik had believed Charles to be older than he was, because
      of his bald head. It made him seem much older, but really, Charles
      couldn't be much over twenty, and definitely not over 25. More
      likely he was Erik's age.

      While they were walking toward Charles' bedroom Erik was still
      twisting his frozen hands. His hands were very beautiful; slim and
      long-fingered, but right now his fingertips were white from the cold
      and no matter what he did Erik didn't seem to get them warm.
      been out on the street for the past six hours, and during that time
      he'd been freezing constantly.
      He was actually looking forward to being taken by this man, though
      he prayed Charles would not be too rough, as he'd already had two
      customers before him that had left him quite sore.

      "Are you still cold?" Charles asked worriedly when they
      entered his
      master bedroom. "Would you like to take a hot shower?"

      "No, I'm fine," Erik replied despite he wasn't.
      "I would just like

      "Get it over with?" Charles asked.

      Erik shrugged, then nodded.

      "Erik," he said gently, placing his hand on Erik's thin
      back. "You
      don't have to, if you don't…"

      "No, it's alright," Erik interrupted. "I want to give
      you pleasure.
      You have been kind to me. I hope I will be satisfying."

      How could you not be? Charles thought while he watched Erik take off
      the little clothes he was wearing. You're the most beautiful man
      have ever met. It is really too bad you are a… prostitute,
      because I
      think I would have enjoyed spending more time with you.

      When Erik was naked Charles was shocked at how emaciated he was. The
      outline of almost every bone could be seen through his ivory skin,
      and the view was all but pleasant. The poor boy was famished. How
      could he even keep going, looking like that?

      "Poor thing…" Charles said compassionately. "How much do
      you weigh?
      100 lbs?"

      "I… I d-don't know…" Erik stuttered, looking down at
      himself. Was
      that disgust written on Charles' face? Of course it was. The man
      didn't want him. Most other men preferred him thin, and there was
      little Erik could do about it, as he couldn't afford eating more
      than what it took to keep him alive.

      "Do I disgust you?" he asked in a trembling voice, fearing
      Charles would send him out in the cold again, without any money.

      "No, dear God – no!" Charles said. "You're just
      so… thin. Aren't you
      eating, dear?"

      "I eat what it takes," Erik said.

      "Not enough, obviously." Charles glanced down and frowned
      when he
      saw Erik's crotch. He had no hair around his genitals, because he
      had probably shaved it off. The rest of his body was hairless as
      well, even his armpits.

      Erik noticed Charles' staring, and explained, "Men like it
      that way.
      I shave my armpits too, because they think hair is disgusting."

      Charles simply nodded. "I see," he said softly. "Come
      here, now."

      He led Erik toward his bed, wanting to show him that he wanted him.
      Charles started to undress as well, feeling a bit shy, as he had
      never undressed in front of anyone for this reason before.

      Erik carefully regarded Charles' body when he'd gotten naked.
      He had
      a very good physique; slim yet well-toned with defined muscles. Erik
      had to admit he wanted this man to take him. Most of his other
      customers were middle-aged, overweight men with sticky fingers that
      paid no respect to Erik as an individual.

      Erik passed his gaze down to Charles' sex, which he found
      already. His penis was beautiful, and – thank God – not
      Despite the dull ache in his bottom, Erik actually got excited and
      had an erection; something that had never happened with anyone else.
      Charles was different in more than one way.

      Carefully Erik reached his hand out and lightly stroked the erect
      member with his hand. It responded with a series of twitchy
      movements and he could hear Charles gasping.

      He looked up toward Charles' face, and asked, "Would you like
      to be
      inside me now?"

      Charles reply was a simple nod. Of course that was what he wanted.
      Except for his emaciated frame Erik was beautiful and would surely
      be satisfying in bed.

      Without further questions Erik settled in the position most men
      wanted him; on all fours with his head submissively bent and legs
      spread for better access.

      "There is lubricant in my jacket pocket, if you would like to use
      it," he said while waiting for Charles to get started.

      "Of course I will, I'll hurt you otherwise."

      Charles picked up the little tube he found in Erik's right jacket
      pocket and went back to the bed. Really, he would have liked to ask
      Erik to turn around so he could see his face, but Erik was the more
      experienced one, and he assumed this position was the easiest one
      for them both.

      Charles' hands were trembling with excitement while he knelt
      Erik and began to spread his buttocks in order to lubricate his
      crack. But what he saw then made Charles freeze and gasp in shock.

      Now he realized why Erik had been limping and why it hurt for him to
      sit. His anus was practically nothing more than a torn and swollen
      slit, with fresh blood trickling out of it. There was tearing, old
      and new, indicating it had been going on for a while.

      "Erik…" he managed to say, not finding any words.
      "What's happened
      to you, dear?"

      "All men are not gentle…" Erik whispered in reply. "But
      alright, you can do it, please be gentle…"

      Now Charles also noticed Erik had obvious marks left by fingernails
      on his hips, and bruises – old as well as new – which
      he'd tried,
      but failed, to cover with some kind of cheap powder.

      "Erik, who did this?" Charles demanded to know. "Who beat

      "I… I can't remember…" Erik stuttered. "Please
      don't throw me out, I
      can pleasure you, I promise I can…"

      "No, no," Charles said soothingly, realizing his aggressive
      tone had
      been misinterpreted. "Don't worry, dear. But you… Let me
      take care
      of you. Your anus…"

      "Please, Charles, do it… I'm alright… It won't
      hurt if you do it
      gently…" Erik sobbed, desperate to please this man who was so
      to him.

      But Charles' erection had vanished in a flash when he saw the
      of Erik's body, together with his arousal. He felt nothing but
      compassion for the poor boy now, and a strong urge to help him, to
      ease his pain. Both physical and emotional.

      "Wait here, Erik," he said and left the bed and went to the
      bathroom to bring some things that would ease the pain in Erik's
      body. When he returned the young prostitute was lying sideways, with
      his legs slightly bent. He carefully regarded Charles' movements
      again asked to please him.

      "We are not going to have sex," Charles told him calmly and
      on the bed again. "Erik, lie flat on your back and spread your
      Don't worry – I won't hurt you."

      Erik did what he was told, wondering what Charles was about to do.
      If he wouldn't fuck him, then what?

      Again Charles looked at the swollen, bleeding little pucker between
      the boy's legs. The wound needed to be cleaned and tended to. It
      didn't require stitches though, if it would be allowed to heal in
      peace. Charles poured some strong liquor into a piece of cotton
      wool, telling Erik,

      "This might sting a little."

      Erik cried out reflexively when he felt the sudden sting in his
      backside, but it only lasted for a short while and he could relax
      again. He knew that Charles was cleaning him and probably used
      liquor. He could feel Charles carefully lifting his sore, bruised
      testicles to gain better access. Some guy yesterday had taken great
      joy in squeezing his scrotum and watching his face distorting in
      pain when he did it.

      When he was done cleaning the wound, Charles smeared some
      bactericidal ointment around the opening. He also used a finger to
      carefully check Erik's insides, because he wanted to be sure
      was no serious internal tearing. There wasn't; at least none that
      could detect.

      "Now swallow this," he said, offering Erik an aspirin with a
      of water.

      "What is that?" Erik asked weakly.

      "Something that will ease your pain," Charles explained.
      "I take it
      you're hurting?"

      Seeing no reason to deny it, Erik just nodded in agreement. He took
      the pill he was offered and washed it down with a few gulps of
      water. Afterwards he lay down in bed again, not really sure what
      would happen now.

      Charles watched the naked, fragile little body in his bed and
      decided to have a serious talk with Erik before getting him to
      sleep. He crawled back into bed and motioned at the young man to
      come closer. Erik did, and when he was close enough Charles gently
      wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into an embrace.

      Erik didn't know what to do or say. No one had been holding him
      this since he'd been in his father's arms right before the
      gates of
      Auschwitz, only moments before he was torn away from his parents.
      Surprised but grateful Erik leaned into the embrace and slowly felt
      his taut body relax. Erik scarcely recalled what he'd been able
      do then, with the fences, making them bend in his direction. He also
      recalled what had been done to him because of it, and tried his best
      to forget both the deed and his punishment.

      "Are you sleepy?" Charles suddenly asked.

      "Not really," Erik confessed. "Please let me…"

      "I thought we could have a talk. Would you like that, Erik?"

      "Talk about what?" Erik asked confusedly. He wasn't
      exactly feeling
      talkative, and that was a talent he hadn't yet required with any
      other customer. He'd only been told to open his mouth when he was
      prove his fellatio skills.

      "Tell me about yourself," Charles asked. "How long have
      you been

      "I came here when I was fifteen, in 1949. Before I used to live
      Germany. It was before the… the…"

      "Great war," Charles said. "You are Jewish, Erik,
      aren't you? You
      survived the death camp."

      He could feel Erik nod against his chest. "I know, dear," he
      compassionately. "And I know what you did to those fences, and
      they tried to make you do after they'd seen it. I know what kind
      tests they did, and that they beat you and raped you because you
      couldn't make it happen again, only for them."

      Erik flinched. It's what he had in his mind right now, but he
      told Charles more than that he'd been a death camp victim.
      "How… c-
      can you kn-know…?" he asked in a trembling voice and slowly
      his head up to look at Charles.

      "Dear, I can read minds, but that is not the issue," Charles
      calmly. "I'd like to help you. Tell me, Erik, how long have
      you been
      working on the street?"

      "Since I was 16," Erik said. He still thought Charles'
      was kind of freaky, but it was still very obvious the man wanted to
      help him, so he saw no reason to be afraid.


      "I have to support myself some way."

      "Couldn't you… have found something else to do?"

      Erik shook his head firmly. "No," he whispered. "This is
      all I'm
      good for."

      "How old are you, dear?"


      Charles smiled. "What a coincidence. So am I."

      "Really? You look…older."

      "I know, it's because of my bald head. It makes me look more
      I lost my hair when I was fourteen, you see. It's nothing I
      and I would give anything to have locks like yours…" he said
      dreamingly, pulling his fingers through Erik's thick dark hair.

      In a way, Erik looked both younger and older than his true age. His
      emaciated body and thin, bony face gave him the look of a haggard
      older man, but his eyes, despite the dark rings that surrounded
      them, were those of an innocent child. Charles didn't believe
      knew much of the world outside the streets, or what it was like not
      being abused.

      Erik snuggled into the warm body he lay pressed to, hoping Charles
      wouldn't push him away. Right now he was desperate for warmth and
      human contact. Most nights like this, he'd lain pressed under
      horny, rough, middle-aged man who needed a break from his wife, or
      alone on a mattress in the small room he rented not far from the
      street where he worked.

      The pill Charles gave him started to take away some of the pain he
      felt, and Erik was getting drowsy. His eyelids started to feel heavy
      and the soft, rhythmic pounding of Charles' heart made an

      "Want to sleep now?" Charles asked.

      "But I haven't… pleasured you…" Erik murmured in
      reply. "I could do
      it with my mouth… I am skilled, I promise…"

      "No, Erik. You're not having any kind of sex tonight. You
      need to
      heal up before you start again. All I can offer you now is a good
      night's sleep."

      Charles turned off the lights and then spooned behind Erik's
      and frighteningly thin frame. He briefly passed his hand along
      Erik's hip, and accidentally brushed his soft penis. Secretly
      Charles thought of how good it would feel in his mouth, but quickly
      abandoned those thoughts as he'd promised Erik he wouldn't
      think of
      him in sexual terms tonight.

      Instead he carefully – to avoid Erik's bruises – slid his
      arm around
      his waist and nuzzled the soft hairs of his neck, inhaling the scent
      of his skin. This was just the kind of contact he'd been craving
      so long. Sex wasn't really that important. This was.

      Erik fell asleep to the wonderful feeling of safety in Charles'
      arms, and a warm breath caressing his neck.


      When they woke up after a night of peaceful, dreamless sleep Erik
      felt grief in his heart. He would have to leave Charles now, and go
      back to his own miserable life on the street and a lot of men that
      saw him as nothing more than a piece of meat. Charles didn't do
      that. He saw Erik as an individual; someone who actually had needs
      and feelings, like every "normal" person.

      They got up, and Charles actually planted a kiss on his cheek. Erik
      was about to get dressed, but Charles led him into the bathroom

      "You are not leaving without a hot shower," he said.
      "Come on, get
      it, I will join you."

      Of course Erik couldn't say no to that, as he hadn't properly
      himself for several days. Charles joined him in the shower, and
      cleaned his thin body in a tender and sensual yet surprisingly
      asexual way. Erik was reminded of the time before the war, when he
      was a little boy and his mother or father used to bathe him.

      Charles took great joy in shampooing Erik's hair, since he loved
      feeling of it in his hands.

      When they were both finished showering Erik saw no choice but to put
      on his old clothes again. He'd been wearing them for he
      wasn't sure
      how long, but he didn't have anything else with him. He objected
      when Charles went to his closet to give him a warmer sweater of his
      own, but the other man was adamant and told him he couldn't go
      around freezing in his own flimsy clothes.

      The sweater Charles gave him was green and made of soft wool.
      Charles knew that it undoubtedly would be too big for him, but it
      was warm nonetheless and Erik needed it.

      Charles also insisted they'd have breakfast together before they
      parted. Moved by his kindness, Erik accepted the offer without
      hesitation. He was hungry, and there was no other place where he
      could get breakfast for free.

      Charles wasn't a skilled cook, but he knew how to make a simple
      but good – breakfast. He made Erik an omelette, a sandwich and a
      bowl of cereals with milk, plus a glass of orange juice to drink.

      While eating, Erik dreaded the approaching moment. He would have to
      part from Charles now and go back to his own miserable and dirty
      little room downtown. He suspected Charles was the one and only man
      to actually treat him like a person, not just an object. It was
      ridiculous, and he knew it, but he didn't want to leave Charles.
      wanted to stay with this man forever.

      Charles knew what Erik was thinking. He didn't mean to pry, but
      Erik's thoughts were practically written on his face. He just
      enjoyed watching Erik for a while; his sharp but distinguished
      features, high cheek-bones, pointy nose and curved mouth. He would
      have looked even better if not his cheeks would have been so
      hollowed, but that was nothing some steady meals of nutritious food
      couldn't cure.

      Charles silently wondered one thing. Am I falling in love with him?
      he asked himself. With a prostitute? A whore? Charles didn't like
      calling Erik a whore, but that's what he was. It was sad, but

      After having finished his breakfast, Erik just sat there for a long
      while, trying to find excuses to stay. He knew it was useless,
      because Charles wouldn't let him stay no matter what he did. He
      better just get it over with.

      "Maybe I should go…" he murmured, staring down at his empty

      "Are you sure?" Charles asked.

      Erik nodded. He really didn't expect Charles to pay him, and was
      therefore surprised when the other man took out his wallet, giving
      him the 50 dollars that were one night's cost, plus 200 dollars

      "Charles, what is…"

      "I want you to have it, Erik," Charles interrupted. "You
      have sex before you've healed up, and that should be enough for
      least a week. "Do you… have a place to stay?"

      "Yes, I am renting a room downtown…" Erik whispered.

      "Is it expensive?" Charles asked.

      Erik nodded. His so-called "landlord" was not exactly a
      guy, and the room he rented wasn't much, but still Erik preferred
      sleeping there than in some staircase or out on the street. It
      wasn't much, but at least it was something.

      In reply Charles pressed another 50 dollars into Erik's hand.
      opened his mouth to object, but Charles silenced him. "I have
      of that," he said. "Don't worry. Do you want me to drive
      you home?"

      "Would you do that?"

      "Yes. Of course. Come, dear."

      While sitting in the car, neither spoke much. They both knew this
      was probably the last time they'd see each other, and that
      wasn't a
      pleasant thought. When Charles finally pulled over in front of the
      house where Erik had his room, he seized Erik's arm.

      "Remember what I told you," he said gravely. "Don't
      let anyone near
      you before you have healed. And don't let them treat you like
      You have to put up limits. Say no. Erik? Are you listening to me?"

      "Yes," Erik said in a low voice. "I promise." Those
      were empty
      words, of course. Who was he to put limits and say no to someone who
      wanted a rough fuck? He'd just end up getting beaten and thrown
      on the street. But he still promised Charles. He couldn't deny
      man anything.

      "Goodbye, Charles."

      "Goodbye, Erik."

      They embraced lightly before Erik got out of the car and watched
      Charles drive out of his life for good – or at least a while.


      Days passed, but Charles couldn't forget the young prostitute
      chosen to take home. Whenever he closed his eyes it was the image of
      Erik he saw. He knew now that what he feared was true; he had fallen
      in love with Erik, and there was nothing he could do to help it. The
      lost and abused young man had captured his heart and it didn't
      like he'd return it anytime soon.

      Charles knew he would go crazy if he couldn't see Erik again. He
      to see him, if only from a distance, so he'd know he was
      Charles knew prostitutes easily got themselves into trouble and he
      wasn't sure Erik would be able to defend himself.

      Six days after the night they'd shared, Charles got into his car,
      and drove to the house where he'd left Erik. He watched the
      for some minutes, trying to decide if he should go inside and ask
      for Erik. He chose not to, but he was going to stay in his car and
      watch the entrance carefully; sooner or later Erik would come out
      or in – through it.


      Erik hadn't been able to keep his promise to Charles. After three
      days, when his bottom had started to feel better, he had no choice
      but to start working again. Fortunately none of his customers had
      been over-rough now, so there was a chance his anus might heal,
      after all.

      Six days had passed since his stay at Charles' house, and he was
      again standing by the same street where Charles picked him up,
      secretly hoping it would happen again.

      It didn't. Instead he got himself another customer. The man was
      about 40, tall and broad, with an untidy face, black stubble and
      small, glaring eyes. Erik cringed at the mere thought of lying under
      him, but as always he put on the business-like, friendly smile he
      used on every potential customer.

      "Hello sir, are you looking for some…"

      "You're a pretty little whore," the man interrupted,
      measuring Erik
      from head to toe. "How much?" His breath stank of liquor.

      "Seven dollars for one hour, fifty for the whole…"

      "A couple of hours should do it," he muttered. "Come with

      He grabbed Erik's arm not too gently, and started dragging him
      toward a car some yards away. When they reached it he shoved Erik
      into the passenger seat.

      He's rough, Erik thought with dismay. He started to think he
      shouldn't have gone with this man, but it was too late now. If he
      backed out the man would demand an explanation and he couldn't
      up with anything plausible. Besides he could get violent, and that
      was really the last thing Erik wanted.

      "Where are we going?" Erik asked carefully. He thought he at
      was entitled to know *that*.

      "A hotel," the man replied gruffly. "I can't take you
      to my place,
      my wife's there."

      Of course, Erik thought. Your wife can't know you're going to
      whores, and male ones, for that matter.

      When they got to the hotel, and the man went to check in, he told
      the receptionist Erik was his son. Erik almost sighed. Really, how
      plausible was that? The clerk however asked him no questions but
      assumed he was telling the truth. Or then she didn't care. Erik
      believed it was the latter.

      "Take your clothes off," the man said as soon as they had
      upstairs to the hotel room. "I want to look at you."

      Erik, of course, did what he was told and stripped without modesty.
      He had given that up long ago. When he was naked he could literally
      feel the man's eyes on him, and he also couldn't help
      noticing the
      prominent bulge growing in his pants. The man watched him like a
      predator watching its prey.

      "Nice body," he said grinning. "A little more meat on
      your bones
      would've been nice, but okay. Now come here and give me a

      Erik carefully approached his customer and obediently kneeled before
      him when he was motioned to do so. The man opened his pants and took
      out his already hardening member. He probably hadn't showered in
      while, because he was stinking, but despite this Erik took his
      member down his throat without showing hesitation. The first time he
      did this he nearly threw up, but practice makes perfect. By now he
      was so used to it that it didn't really bother him.

      The taste was bitter, but he endured that too. He knew he was fairly
      good at this, and wanted to prove that, as he didn't want to give
      the man a reason to be mean. When he felt the man's hand tangling
      his hair he allowed it to happen, despite that he was afraid of
      being choked.

      Suddenly though, he was told to stop. The man firmly held his head
      still, glaring down at him with his small eyes. Then he
      grinned. "That was good! My wife never does that, ya know."
      Then he
      winked at Erik, as though they shared a secret.

      "Now lie on the bed!"

      Erik crawled up from the floor and sat down on the bed and watched
      as the man took his pants off. He didn't bother taking off the
      of his clothes, because it simply wasn't necessary.

      "Lie down on your back," were his next instructions.

      Erik followed them and settled on his back, already spreading his
      legs, assuming that's how he wanted him.

      "There is lubricant in my…"

      The man snorted at him. "Nah, forget it! I don't like getting
      cock all messed up."

      Afraid of being torn again, Erik tried, "But please sir, I would
      like to…"

      "Shut up!" the man snapped. "Before we get started
      I'll give you
      something, though."

      He stuck his hand inside his briefcase and pulled something up. Erik
      glanced in his direction, and to his dismay he saw it was a syringe
      of some kind. Instantly he felt strong terror, recalling the
      sadistic doctors that did all kinds of strange medical experiments
      on him at Hitler's death camp.

      "W-hat is th-that…?" he stuttered in fear.

      "This…" the man said, tapping the syringe, "is something
      make you relax, dear boy. You see, it's so much more fun if

      "I don't want it!" Erik called reflexively. "Take it

      "Of course you want it. It's first class heroin. All little
      want it. Now keep still!"

      The man started to approach the bed – and Erik – with the
      ready in his hand. Erik started to panic. No matter what; he
      couldn't let the man inject that into him. He just couldn't.

      "No! Keep that thing away! I don't want to!" he screamed
      and raised
      his arms to shield himself.

      But the man paid no attention to Erik's cries, but kept coming
      closer with a stern look on his face.

      When he was close enough he lunged for Erik's arm, but this time
      Erik didn't wait for it to happen. He managed to surprise the
      who wasn't prepared for such resistance, and tore himself loose.
      rolled off the bed but got to his feet quickly, heading for the
      door. He was naked, and there was no time to put on any clothes, but
      that didn't matter, as long as the evil man didn't give him
      heroin injection.

      But Erik never reached the door. His attacker recovered quickly, and
      before Erik could reach the door the man grabbed him and slammed his
      head into the nearest wall, brutally and aggressively. Stunned, Erik
      sank to the floor and almost lost consciousness.

      Before he could recover the least he was torn up and thrown onto the
      bed, and soon felt a heavy weight pressing him into the mattress.
      The man was much bigger than him, and many times stronger. Erik
      didn't stand a chance against him. To stun him further, the man
      viciously backhanded the young prostitute across the jaw. His arm
      was pulled out from under him, and despite his current daze he could
      feel the thin needle being stuck into his vein.

      "That's it, bitch!" the man hissed. "Get high!"

      The drug almost rendered Erik unconscious but he could still feel it
      when the man flipped him over, spread his legs and drove into him
      without any lubricant or preparation. It hurt like never before and
      Erik screamed, drugged and helpless, pinned under a man twice his
      weight. His agony only seemed to excite the brute and he kept
      thrusting hard and fast into the almost limp body underneath his

      Erik thought it would never end. He ceased screaming eventually,
      when he simply had no more strength to do it. Somewhere in his foggy
      mind he wondered whether this man would kill him, and by the end of
      it he almost hoped that he would.

      The man finally came with a roar, shooting his seed into Erik's
      torn, abused little body. He pulled out his penis, which was smeared
      with blood and his own semen, and used Erik's white shirt to wipe

      When he was finished dressing, he roughly shoved Erik off the bed.
      When he landed on the floor, blood from Erik's bleeding nose
      the hotel carpet.

      "Get dressed and get out of here, you whore!" was the first
      the man said to him after the brutal rape. "I have to get home to
      wife! Get your ass out of here!"

      Erik kind of woke up from his semi-unconscious state when the heard
      the rough voice, and almost like a zombie he managed to pull on what
      remained of his clothes and then rose to his feet, but had to lean
      against the wall for support. His head was spinning violently, and
      he didn't know how badly he was hurt; only that this time it was
      bad. Maybe he wouldn't survive.

      Beaten, bloody and drugged Erik made his way out of the hotel. Every
      step he took hurt, despite the numbness of his body. He could hardly
      see anything and felt like he'd faint every ten seconds.

      Slowly, but desperate to get home, Erik staggered toward the house
      where he rented a room. He wasn't sure how he even knew where to
      but right then it didn't matter. He didn't believe he would

      When he finally reached the stairs of the house, the blood loss and
      the obvious overdose of heroin made Erik collapse into a small
      trembling heap on the ground.


      Having waited for five hours, Charles had almost fallen asleep in
      his car when he finally heard steps approaching the entrance. His
      eyes snapped open and right when he looked in the direction of the
      sound, he could see a staggering dark shape collapse onto the ground
      before it reached the door.

      Erik. Charles knew it was him before he even saw him properly.

      He bounced out of his car in half a second, and despite that Erik
      was only some ten yards away it felt like an eternity to get to him.
      When Charles reached him all doubts vanished. It was Erik, alright.
      But when Charles crouched to have a look at him, he was terrified.

      Erik looked like he was dying. He was alarmingly cold, covered in
      cold-sweat, and his face was smeared in blood; both dried and fresh.
      Charles could also not help noticing the blood that soaked through
      Erik's thin pants.

      "Oh my God… Erik?" he whispered in shock.

      As carefully as he could, Charles tried to tuck his arms in under
      Erik's thin trembling body. The young man's head lolled over
      his arm
      and Erik could not find the strength – or focus – to keep it
      upright. He tried to speak, but all that left his mouth were a
      series of moans and incoherent murmurs. His breathing was ragged,
      and when Charles checked for his pulse, he discovered it was much
      slower than it should be.

      Charles began to realize what had happened. Dizzy, unclear images of
      a man holding a syringe reached his head, and even though Erik's
      thoughts didn't make one bit of sense, he knew.

      Erik had been drugged and raped. He had lost a lot of blood, and the
      narcotic had rendered him almost unconscious. It was possible he
      would go into shock any second.

      Charles felt almost like he'd faint himself. What was he supposed
      do now? What Erik really needed was medical attendance, but what
      would the hospital do about him? Erik had no insurance; he was a
      prostitute, and there was a risk he wasn't even here legally. If
      authorities got their hands on him he could end up being sent back
      to Germany. No, that couldn't happen.

      After some conferring with himself, Charles decided to take Erik to
      the Xavier-estate. He was no doctor, but his father had been one,
      and he wasn't a complete stranger to medicine.

      "Erik, dear, you're coming with me," he said, trying to
      soothe the
      boy. "I'm going to make you okay. I promise. Come here…"

      He lifted Erik into his arms and carried him back to his car. The
      poor thing was even lighter than he looked, and Charles thought he
      had to do something about that. He wrapped Erik into a blanket he
      found in his trunk, and laid him down in the backseat.

      During the drive back to the mansion only one thought filled Charles
      head. Please, let him make it… Oh please, let him make it!

      When he got home Charles was actually glad his parents were no
      longer around. He couldn't imagine what they had done if he'd
      home in the middle of the night with a bloody bundle in his arms.
      That's what Erik was now; a bloody bundle.

      Charles realized that he first and foremost had to get Erik's
      temperature up. He only knew one way, and that was to get him into a
      hot bath. Almost in frenzy he filled his large bathtub with hot,
      steaming water, hoping it wasn't hot enough to burn Erik's

      He carefully removed Erik's blood-soaked clothes and then lowered
      him into the water. He had regained some consciousness now, and with
      some help could keep his head upright. Charles held him firmly
      though, to make sure he wouldn't slip too far down and drown, and
      tried to make his tremors go away with gentle caresses.

      It *was* necessary to get Erik warm, but the hot water only
      furthered his bleeding, and dismayed Charles could see the water
      quickly turning crimson with Erik's blood. Because he
      afford to lose much more blood, Charles decided to end the bath.

      His tremors had ceased, or at least diminished, so he thought it was
      safe. Wrapping Erik into a large towel, he carried him to his own
      bedroom and put him on the bed, knowing the hardest part remained.
      Charles already knew Erik had been raped, but he had yet to check
      how badly injured he was. Perhaps he even required stitches.

      Erik's breathing was still ragged, but his pulse was faster than
      before, and that was a good sign. The narcotic effect of the heroin
      dose had started to diminish, and therefore he'd also begun to
      stronger pain again. Erik whimpered at first, but burst into tears
      when he tried to move and discovered the horrible, body-racking pain
      between his legs.

      Charles was instantly there, to place his warm soothing hand on his
      forehead and assure him everything was going to be fine. Erik
      recognized his voice and though his memories of Charles were blurred
      at the moment, he knew he was safe. The pain was still there, of
      course, and he couldn't stop crying.

      "My dear, you are bleeding," Charles said softly. "I have
      to check
      how bad it is. Don't worry, alright? I'll try not to hurt

      To Erik it felt like his rectum had been torn to shreds, and he
      wasn't exactly looking forward to having it examined. Charles was
      very gentle though, and was careful not to make any hasty movements
      that would cause him more pain.

      Very slowly, Charles spread Erik's legs to assess the hurt down
      there. He sighed when he saw the deal. It was like he'd
      or even worse. Erik was badly torn, and new fresh blood still poured
      out of him onto Charles' sheets. The sheets were made of
      silk, and most likely they were ruined now, as bloodstains didn't
      away easily, but that didn't matter. Charles gladly would have
      sacrificed all his silk sheets just to ease Erik's pain a little.

      Yes, this needed to be stitched. Charles was sure of that now. It
      was worse now than last time. A lot worse. Erik was bleeding, and it
      didn't seem like it would stop anytime soon.

      Realizing he didn't have a choice, Charles asked gravely,
      listen to me. You need to be stitched, and I believe a hospital
      could help you better than I can. Would you like to go to a
      hospital, Erik? Please tell me."

      Erik's mind may have been distorted with pain and narcotic, but
      was still clear enough to decide that for himself. He would *never*
      go to a hospital. Not if he could help it. Never.

      "No…n-no h-h-hos-p-pital…" he sobbed desperately.
      "Please… d-don't…
      take me there…"

      "Are you sure? The tearing is…"

      "Please! Charles, I don't want to!" Despite his current
      Erik took a firm hold of Charles' forearm. The thought of all
      doctors examining him and sticking him with needles was just too
      much. He'd rather endure the pain than that.

      "Alright, I won't," Charles said calmingly. "I just
      wanted to ask.
      But in that case…" he sighed, knowing there was no
      alternative, "I'll have to stitch you myself."

      Erik just nodded. He didn't want to think about it, and the
      it was over the better. Rather Charles than a team of cynical white-

      Charles knew he had to leave Erik for a moment to get the "right
      equipment" so to speak. He still had his father's med-kit
      somewhere, and was suddenly glad he hadn't thrown it away,
      it was truly needed now.

      "I'll go get some things, but I will be back in a
      minute," he
      promised the abused young man. He knew he also had to deal with
      Erik's facial injuries, but not right now. Stitching his bottom
      the top priority.

      "Don't leave me, please…" Erik whispered, closing his
      eyes. One was
      swollen and discoloured, and Charles doubted he could see well right

      "It's only for a minute, dear. I'll be back before you
      know it."

      It took him about three minutes to find the med-kit in the wardrobe
      of his parents' bedroom, but there it was, and it was intact.

      When he returned to his bedroom, Erik's cries had been reduced
      miserable sobs, and he barely heard Charles entering. The pain was
      just getting worse, and had really started to dread being stitched.
      He almost thought about asking Charles to leave him as he was, but
      that wasn't good either, since his bleeding had to be stopped.

      "Hey dear," Charles murmured. "How are you feeling? Any
      better at

      Erik shook his head almost imperceptibly. No, he was not better,
      anyway. Rather the opposite.

      Charles sighed. Erik's pain was one problem. Charles had no
      anaesthetic, and even though he'd had it, it would have been
      dangerous giving it to Erik, as he was no doctor and knew very
      little of the right dosage.

      There was one thing he could do though, and decided it was worth the
      risk. Being stitched without anaesthesia in his current condition
      would drive Erik mad.

      He kneeled by the bed and put his hand on Erik's sweaty forehead.
      Erik opened his good eye and gave him a blurry yet pained look. Old
      tears were still gleaming in the corners of his eyes, and new ones
      had begun to form.

      "Now I want you to relax, dear," Charles said gently. "I
      won't hurt
      you, but I need you to relax. Can you do that?"

      "I will try…" whispered Erik.

      He closed his eyes, and so did Charles, who now used his telepathic
      mind to "shut Erik off", so to speak, as it was the only way
      for him
      to go through this without feeling any pain. When it was done,
      Erik's head lolled sideways and he exhaled slowly, sounding
      like a sigh. His pulse was slow but steady, and finally he was
      breathing soundly.

      "I'm sorry…" Charles murmured and pressed a kiss to
      forehead. "But I did it for your own good…"

      Now when Erik was unconscious Charles figured he might get started.
      He could feel a bile rise in his throat when he looked at the gaping
      wound between the other's legs that he was about to stitch, but
      managed to fight it down.

      He started by cleaning Erik's anus and the area around it with
      disinfectant from his own medicine cupboard, and then sterilized the
      needle he would use. Just to be sure, he also held it in the flame
      of a lighter, making sure all bacteria were killed.

      Charles had never stitched a wound before, so he was very afraid
      he'd hurt Erik more than he'd help him. It was a very finical
      that required a large amount of self-control and steady hands.

      Charles decided to turn Erik onto his side for better access. His
      hands were trembling considerately when he started to stitch the
      young prostitute's backside together, using suture thread from
      father's med-kit and a bent suture needle. Beads of sweat poured
      down his bald head and landed on his arms and next to the
      bloodstains originating from Erik.

      It required four stitches. The blood flow had decreased dramatically
      when he was done, and though some still trickled from Erik's now-
      stitched opening, it was no longer a problem. It would cease as soon
      as his blood coagulated.

      Erik was still unconscious, and seemed to have noticed nothing
      throughout the whole procedure. Charles smiled in relief. Sometimes
      his mind-bending ability could be an asset. He finished by putting
      ointment on the wound; careful not to use his fingernails to do any
      more damage.

      After examining his face, Charles could state that Erik's nose
      not broken, and his split lower lip would heal in a few days. He
      gently wiped the blood away; sad to see that beautiful face all
      black and blue. But there was no real worry. The injuries weren't
      serious and Erik's face would not remain permanently distorted.

      Charles bent down to kiss his smooth forehead, stroking the dark
      hair back while murmuring consoling things. "You are going to be
      alright, love…" he said. "Trust me. It's a promise."

      Then Charles undressed himself, but kept his briefs on; figuring
      Erik didn't want – or need – to feel a man's naked
      member against
      his body right now, despite that it wasn't going to hurt him.

      He then crawled down into bed, and pulled Erik's limp frame into
      arms. Charles believed Erik wanted the warmth and comfort a human
      embrace could offer, in spite that he wasn't conscious.

      "I really love you…" he murmured with Erik's dark head
      resting on
      his chest. "I can't help it, but I do…"


      When Charles woke up in the morning Erik was still asleep. He was
      asleep now though; not unconscious. That could be told by his
      breathing. Charles figured the poor thing was totally exhausted and
      wouldn't wake up yet in a few hours, so he got dressed and went
      the kitchen to make himself breakfast.

      But Erik did wake up only a few minutes after Charles left, and what
      woke him up was the pain. He slowly opened his not-swollen eye, and
      expected to find himself in his ordinary room "at home", but
      was not where he was. This was a soft bed, not a mattress, and the
      room was large, elegant and tidy.

      Then he remembered. Charles. The rape last night. The heroin
      injection. Everything. He was safe now. No one could hurt him while
      he was here.

      Erik breathed a sigh of relief, but that turned into a grimace of
      pain when he attempted to move. It felt like someone had stabbed a
      dagger up his rectum, or worse. It felt like… well, like he had
      torn to shreds. Literally.

      His face hurt too. His right eye was swollen shut, and his nose and
      jaw hurt whenever he tried to flex his facial muscles.

      Erik began to cry again. When did I become this miserable? he asked
      himself. What have I done to deserve this?

      Charles returned a few minutes later and found him curled up and
      crying in the bed, very much awake. Wearing a robe, he sat down on
      the bed edge and gently started rubbing Erik's thin back. He
      feel every slender vertebra and most his ribs.

      "Hi dear, how are you feeling?" he asked, even though he
      already knew the answer.

      "It hurts…down there…" Erik whimpered.

      "I know. You've been stitched. I am sorry I had to do it, but
      it was
      required," Charles explained. "I wish I could get my hands on
      bastard that did this to you. He would deserve the same treatment

      Erik silently agreed, but he didn't say anything. He wasn't
      the one
      to judge people.

      "Would you like anything? Food? Water? Anything?"

      "Something to drink, please…" Erik whispered. "And
      something for the
      pain… If you have."

      "Of course. I should have thought about it. Wait, and I'll be

      Charles returned with two aspirins and a glass of cold water. With
      much effort and pain Erik managed to sit up, with Charles' steady
      hand behind his back, and carefully swallowed the two tablets and
      drank the water up. His mouth felt dry, all of a sudden, and the
      water was welcome.

      "Please Charles, hold me…" he pleaded, refusing to let go of
      other man. "I don't want to be alone. I beg you…"

      "I will," Charles promised and crawled down in the bed again,
      dressed. Erik pressed his thin, though not limp body against his and
      buried his head in the crook of Charles' neck. Charles recalled
      really should check on Erik's wound and clean it with
      but that would have to wait. Right now Erik wanted to be held, and
      Charles couldn't deny him that.

      "You know what, Erik?" he said slowly. "You are going to
      stay here
      with me. I am not letting you go again, because I love you."'

      At that moment Erik was too drowsy and unfocused to really
      understand the meaning of those words, but Charles would tell him
      again, when he was feeling better. Now he could only think of
      getting rid of the pain and finding comfort in the kind man's

      For three hours Charles remained still, holding Erik and soothing
      him with gentle words and caresses, until Erik finally managed to
      fall asleep again.


      Erik could not describe the relief he felt when Charles later told
      him he didn't have to go back to working on the street. He really
      had no idea why Charles cared so much for him, and he certainly
      didn't think he deserved it. Knowing he'd never be able to
      Charles for this, he often offered to do it the one way he knew;
      through sexual favours.

      Charles couldn't deny he wanted Erik, but he resolutely declined
      offers until he knew Erik was fully recovered. He chose this,
      because he knew he'd never be able to forgive himself if he hurt
      Erik now, when he was still healing.

      Erik had really made an amazing recovery. He'd put on 20 lbs in
      a month, and while he was still slim he no longer looked so
      frighteningly emaciated. His hollowed cheeks had begun to fill up
      and the dark rings around his eyes were gone. Now Erik finally
      started to look like a real 19-year-old again for the first time in
      a long while.

      And Charles loved watching him. He loved the sound of Erik's
      and his laughter. A few days after the brutal assault, Charles
      didn't believe he'd ever hear Erik laugh again, but the young
      proved him wrong. Being safe and sheltered, Erik quickly regained
      his spirits and in Charles' company he felt like he could do
      anything. Now he wasn't Erik the prostitute anymore; now he was
      the human being.

      They slept in the same bed every night, often without wearing
      anything except their bare skin. Charles loved the feeling of
      slender, smooth body in his arms, and even though he still refused
      to have sex with him, it was still a great feeling just to hold him.
      He also liked the dark tuft that grew between Erik's legs now
      he no longer needed to shave his genitals.

      But sex became inevitable at last, and they started slowly by
      pleasuring each other with their hands and mouths. Charles would
      never forget the moment when he for the first time took Erik's
      into his mouth and gave the boy his first leisurely blowjob ever.
      Erik may have been skilled at giving oral sex, but he had never
      received any back, so this was a very special moment in his life as

      Charles didn't quite like the bitter, salty taste of Erik's
      but swallowing that was certainly worth the prize of seeing
      face distorting in ecstasy.

      Of course Charles felt exactly the same way when Erik did it to him,
      and it wasn't only because of Erik's technical skills. The
      haired man was so passionate about it, and Charles was assured no
      one else could do it better.

      Despite all, they still hadn't had intercourse. Erik wanted to,
      claiming he had recovered and wanted to feel Charles in his body,
      but Charles claimed he wanted to wait until Erik's mental wounds
      healed as well, not just the physical ones. When they finally did
      it, it had to be heartfelt, not just a quick shoot.

      One evening, about two months after the assault that nearly claimed
      Erik's life, they both knew it was time. Charles had taken Erik
      to dinner earlier, just to make everything as perfect and romantic
      as possible.

      "Erik, are you sure?" Charles asked gently, when they were
      sitting naked on the bed, kissing and stroking each other.

      Erik chuckled. "Charles, I have done this before, as you may
      You are the one who should be anxious."

      "Yes, I know, dear, but we aren't going to have sex now. We
      going to make love. There is a huge difference."

      Charles cupped Erik's beautiful slender face in his hands and
      deep into his pale blue eyes. He softly stroked his lover's
      cheekbone with his thumb, whispering, "I would never hurt you.
      know that, Erik, don't you?"

      Erik nodded. "But of course," he said. "I know you could
      never hurt
      anyone, Charles. Least of all me."

      Charles looked down and could see that Erik already had a full
      erection. When he closed his hand around it he could feel it
      throbbing and a small drop of clear pre-come trickled down from the
      slit. In reply he brushed his thumb over the head, drawing a low
      moan out of Erik.

      "Let's get started," he said and kissed his lover's

      They parted, and Erik lay down on his back, figuring Charles wanted
      to see his face. That was absolutely correct. Charles wanted to see
      his lover's beautiful eyes and kiss his soft lips as he gently
      thrust into his body.

      Erik drew his knees up and parted his legs, giving Charles access to
      his most private and sensitive areas. The other man gratefully
      accepted the invitation, and reached his hand down to stroke
      erection and softly fondle his tight scrotum. The dark-haired man
      sighed in bliss, squirming on the bed and bucking up to meet
      Charles' hand.

      Very slowly, Charles passed his hand beneath Erik's sacs and
      caressed the little ring of muscle that marked the entrance to his
      body. The flesh had healed perfectly, and although the scar tissue
      would always remain, it wouldn't affect Erik's everyday-life.
      remain there as a reminder of the horrors he'd gone through.

      Charles found his hands shaking slightly. Not because he was really
      nervous, but because this was his first time doing this. Despite
      that he knew Erik's body almost as well as Erik himself, he was
      anxious something might happen.

      Erik, who noticed his worry, pulled him into a kiss, and assured
      him, "It's going to be fine. Now I want you in me, Charles.
      Show me
      what love can be."

      Charles gathered the small tube of lubricant they would use in his
      hands, squeezed some onto his fingers, and brought them to Erik's

      "Are you ready?" he asked seriously, ready to stop any second
      case Erik felt pain.

      "Yes, Charles, you won't hurt me. I promise. Please."

      Charles needed no further encouragement. He carefully pushed his
      forefinger, quickly followed by his middle finger, into Erik's
      channel. He knew that Erik had done this countless times, and at
      most occasions he hadn't even received any kind of preparation
      still lived through it. Yet he believed his beautiful lover's
      to be fragile; afraid that he would break.

      Erik groaned when Charles' fingers found his prostate and rubbed
      against it. No one had done this for him on purpose, and it felt
      wonderful. He groaned even more and clawed at the sheets as electric
      jolts of pleasure travelled through his body.

      "Charles… please…" he gasped.

      "Alright," Charles whispered. He lubricated his own throbbing
      and tucked himself in between Erik's splayed legs. He withdrew
      fingers and placed the head of his penis against Erik's well-
      prepared opening.

      "Ready?" he asked Erik, pulling his long legs up and hooking
      ankles over his shoulders.

      Erik nodded. "Yes."

      Charles gently thrust in, going slowly, giving Erik time to object
      if he was hurt. He wasn't though, and Charles slid in all the way
      without the slightest resistance. He gasped when he was fully
      sheathed, and stayed still for a moment, just to revel in the tight
      warm grasp of Erik's flesh.

      It was Erik who finally woke him from his daze. "You can move
      he whispered.

      Charles gently withdrew a bit and thrust back in, creating a
      delicious friction that made them both gasp. He repeated the
      procedure a few times, until they had managed to create a faster
      rhythm that gave them the satisfaction they wanted and needed.

      Erik cried out when his prostate was hit over and over again,
      clutching at Charles desperately, to bring his warm solid body on
      top of his own. Charles accepted the invitation and allowed
      legs to slide down from his shoulders, so he could settle down over
      Erik and kiss his lover's lips.

      Careful to take his weight onto his own arms, Charles continued to
      thrust into the willing body underneath his and also kissed Erik
      with fervour he had rarely had. Erik kissed him back, wrapping his
      long slim legs around his hips, as to encourage him to go even

      When the kiss ended, Charles removed his mouth from Erik's and
      to kiss his jaw instead, from where he moved to his slender, pale
      throat. There he placed a tender kiss right on Erik's Adam's
      and heard the other man moaning in reply.

      After a while of squirming and thrusting in the bed, Charles could
      feel Erik's engorged shaft erupting and spurting its creamy white
      substance over their bellies. Erik screamed out his orgasm,
      clutching at Charles' almost painfully hard. Charles didn't
      mind. He
      was too deep in his own ocean of pleasure to notice the slight pain.
      A few more hard thrusts, and he came inside his lover, coating his
      hot inner walls with his white seed.

      They collapsed together in a heap of tangled limbs and sweaty skin.
      Charles kissed Erik's cheek, jaw and mouth, lapping at his soft
      with his tongue. Erik's hand slowly travelled up to stroke
      bald head. His lover lay over him, and was still buried inside his
      body, but Erik didn't want him to move. If only possible, he
      have liked to stay like this all night.

      When Charles had regained the strength to lift himself off Erik, he
      did it, in fear of smothering his love. He pulled out of Erik,
      rolled off and lay down next to him instead. Their hearts were still
      beating fast and their breaths came out heavy. This time it had been

      Charles snaked his arm under Erik's loose-limbed body and drew
      into an embrace. He buried his face in the other's damp curls and
      inhaled his earthy scent.

      "Are you alright, dear?" he asked at last.

      He could feel Erik's nods against his chest. "Yes…" his
      lover then
      whispered. "I am."

      Charles lifted his chin and turned his lax face up toward
      himself. "Are you sore?"

      Now Erik smiled a weary yet serene smile. "Hmm… a
      little," he
      replied truthfully. "But in a good way. You didn't hurt me;
      you made
      me feel wonderful."

      They exchanged a quick kiss before Charles noticed the sticky
      substance that coated their bellies. He knew it was Erik's semen,
      and because of that he'd liked to keep it, but realized sleeping
      covered in something as sticky as that would be all but pleasant, so
      he reached for a paper napkin and wiped both their bellies.

      "There you go," he said, throwing the tissue away. "Are
      you tired?"

      Erik nodded. "How could I not be, after what we just did?"

      Ch<br/><br/>(Message over 64 KB, truncated)