Somewhat Clear

Erik didn't get much sleep that night.

Charles, exhausted by the stressful trip and occurences of the evening, had ended up crying himself to sleep in his new Dominant's arms. Erik meanwhile was internally panicking, because he didn't have the slightest idea of what he was supposed to do to comfort him; he ended up carrying him in the house and setting him into his bed, wrapping him tightly in an extra blanket. Being naked like that, Erik was afraid that he might get cold. Once Charles was secured under thick and warm covers, he curled up on one side and kept on sleeping, breathing quietly. Not completely sure about it, Erik resolved anyway to nap on the couch for the time being. He didn't want to wake the young man, or worse, scare him.

Anyway, being a morning person Erik was up much before 6 a.m., which was at least an hour earlier than his usual wake up time. He didn't know what to do. He never had a serious relationship before -except for Magda, which didn't count because he was switching down for her anyway- and it had been quite a long time since his last sub.

So he did the only thing he could do. He called Azazel, and proceeded to freak out all over him.

Luckily Azazel was a very patient man, and he was in Moscow that day, so when Erik had called him it was around 3, a much less ungodly hour than 6 in the morning.

“He doesn't even have a contract, Azazel,“ whined Erik into the phone, once he explained the whole thing to Azazel, pacing back and forth in front of his living room's window. Outside the sky was getting lighter and lighter with dawn. “I don't even think he actually ever had one before. That thing that Shaw threw at me is some sort of document with some CV shit on it, but there's no trace of Charles' signature, and I'm not even sure he was of age at the time. The date is from ten years ago, Azazel. He couldn't be older than sixteen. Isn't that one year younger than the age of consent?“

“So, you're telling me that he's been in a 24/7 relationship for over ten years with Shaw?“ asked Azazel, sounding mildly bored, but at the same time listening carefully.

“An abusive 24/7 relationship. What am I supposed to do? I'm not going to keep him that way myself!“ hissed Erik, brushing a hand through his hair, vehemently putting it out of his eyes. He stopped by the window, blinking at the growing brightness.

“Then don't,“ said Azazel, admirably calm. “He's sleeping now, isn't he?“

“Yes,“ snapped Erik. When he went in his room to check on him, he had found Charles with a pillow under his head and one clutched to his chest, as if for protection. He had seemed so frail that Erik had felt the urge to save him from everything that could hurt him.

“Wonderful,“ continued Azazel. “Then just let him sleep, wait for him to wake up, and ask him.“

“Ask what?“

“Stuff.“

“Thank you very much, Azazel,“ growled Erik, his voice dripping sarcasm.

“Shush and listen. That kind of submissive is usually trained to tell you everything you ask. He received headspace training, didn't he? You just have to be careful, and look out for any lie he might tell you -he would do that, if he thinks that the truth is going to make you angry.“

“I'm afraid I don't follow you.“

“It's simple Erik,“ snapped Azazel, slightly annoyed. “Charles is still used to Shaw, and since he never had another Dominant he'll expect you to react the same way Shaw did. Let's say that Shaw made him bring in freshly baked chocolate chip cookies whenever he was sitting in his favorite armchair, and everytime that Charles didn't do what he was supposed to do, he punished him by drawing a sorry face on his ass.“

“Tell me you don't actually do that to Janos.“

“Shut up, I'm trying to make a point here. What I'm trying to say, it's that if you go sitting in your armchair, it's possible that Charles might bake a ton of cookies for you, just to avoid going around with a sad smiley on his left ass cheek -better safe than sorry.“ Azazel chuckled at himself quietly, undoubtedly thinking inappropriate things. Erik rolled his eyes, and waited for him to go on.

“It's your job to tell him that you're not going to draw anything on his bum, and that's because not bringing you cookies is something he wouldn't be punished for. Look for sores and treat them. Once the two of you figured out how to make it work, you'll speak about the contract.“

Erik thought about it, pressing the forehead on the cool glass. He sighed. “You make it seem so easy.“

“You can do this, Erik. There's nobody else who could do this better than you. You're the best, when it comes to these crappy situations,“ Azazel assured him with a firm voice. It was almost comforting, listening to his harsh accent hardening on the vowels, because he meant it.

“Thank you. But I always started from scratch, with the others. And it was only a temporary thing. Here I have a gorgeous young man who submitted himself for a life span, who was abused by his former Dominant, and who probably suffers from some kind of trauma. It's so different. What if I trigger something? What if he's been subdued to the point that he's not able to understand what he likes and or doesn't anymore?“ He had seen that happen to others, and heard so many stories. “I'm worried, Azazel.“

“I know, Erik. That's what makes you such a great Dom. Now, calm down, and take a deep breath.“

Erik did, and in doing so he smelled something unexpected.

“...Fried eggs,“ he muttered to himself stunned.

“I beg your pardon. I thought that weird cravings were typical of pregnant women, not of panicking Dominants.“ teased Azazel, actually puzzled by his friend's strange behavior.

“No sorry it's just -I smell fried eggs,“ elaborated Erik, sniffing the air once more for good measure. Fried eggs, definitely. What the hell was happening?

“It would seem that it's not cookies after all,“ commented Azazel, chuckling softly at the other end of the line.

“What are you-“ started Erik. Then his mind caught up. “...Charles?“

“Who else?“

Erik mumbled something and hang up the phone with a quick "call you later", and walked towards the kitchen. The smell was starting to make his mouth water and his stomach rumble. He didn't realize that he was that hungry.

The second he walked in the kitchen though, he felt his mouth go dry and he stopped in his tracks.

Charles was standing naked in his kitchen, cooking fried eggs and pancakes, reaching out for kitchenware and ingredients like he had lived in Erik's house all his life.

Technically he wasn't completely naked, because he was wearing Erik's kiss-the-cook maroon apron, but his backside was completely exposed anyway. He was muttering something softly under his breath, and he seemed in a hurry. Erik watched while he opened a few cupboards before finding plates and cutlery. With a satisfied humming, Charles set the food in the plates -steaming delicious-looking fried eggs-in-a-basket and a butter-covered stack of pancakes, and turned around to put them on the table. It was then that he noticed Erik, still frozen at the door.

Like he did at Shaw's, he brusquely held his breath, starting, and dropped everything.

Feeling a sense of dejà-vu, Erik caught the plates with his power by reflex. Emma had scolded him for his laziness when she had found out that he had fringed every plate, cup and the rest of his non-metallic kitchenware with metal, but now that his trick had saved both his breakfast and Charles' nerves, he was actually happy for being such a lazy ass. On the other hand, Charles was standing there breathing so unevenly that he was practically gasping for breath.

In another case, if Charles had been some sub picked up in a club, Erik would have been at his side in half a second, hugging him close and comforting with soft words. But Charles wasn't any sub, so Erik had to play it safe and keep a cool attitude, while Charles tried to put himself together on his own without Erik ordering him to do so. Hopefully.

So Erik floated the plates towards the table, put them down gently and sat. He picked up knife and fork, and started eating the pancakes. They were delicious; buttery, sweet but not sickeningly sugary, exactly how he liked them. He could have sworn that Charles actually had a talent for guessing his tastes.“ Unfortunately, Erik knew that he didn't have any sugar in the house -he kept forgetting to buy it because he only used it to sweeten his coffee. He had honey though. Charles must have used that.

“They're wonderful, Charles,“ praised Erik, with a smile.

Charles' tense expression relaxed; he looked a bit lost and unsure, but smiled back a bit.

“A-are they, Master?“ Charles sounded sincerely surprised. He clearly wasn't used to being praised.

He seemed like he didn't know what to do of himself, so Erik patted lightly the place next to him, inviting him to sit, and pushed the eggs towards him. “Come and sit with me, Charles. Try them yourself,“ Erik said, offering his fork with a bite of pancake.

Charels sat gingerly, then took the fork and brought it to his mouth, almost mechanically. He chewed and swallowed, but didn't have any kind of reaction. He could have had a taste of ambrosia or an old sock, with that blankness on his face. Erik felt a bit disturbed by the lack of response. At that point, he could drop the matter, or push it.

Erik pushed. “Good, aren't they?“

“I don't know, Master,“ answered Charles carefully.

“Have you already had breakfast?“ asked then Erik, stealing a bite of eggs from the plate. They were really good, even if they were just eggs.

“No, Master.“

“Then you should, don't you think? It's not good for you, starting the day with an empty stomach,“ said Erik, pushing the eggs closer to Charles, and putting a couples of pancakes in the same dish. He then drew another knife and fork to the table using his ability.

Charles watched, fascinated even if slightly wary, while the cutlery landed next to his plate. He poked lightly at the fork with the tip of his fingers, like he was afraid that it could have come to life spontaneously. Erik nudged it with his power, making it wiggle slightly, and Charles jerked away his hand mildly startled. Erik chuckled under his breath.

“Metallokinesis,“ explained Erik. “My mutation. I can manipulate metals as I wish. I actually have magnetokinesis as well, which theoretically would allow me to alter magnetic fields, but actually I still haven't figured out what I'm supposed to use it for, even if Emma says that I'm using it all the time subconsciously.“ He smiled. “Nothing to be scared of, really,“ he added quickly, noticing that Charles had gone stiff at the word 'mutation'.

That he would have dropped. The matter was a bit too much to be faced so early, when he still didn't know if he earned Charles' trust. Speaking of which, he found that Charles hadn't even touched his food yet.

“Eat, Charles.“ He nudged him gently, gesturing the cooling food.

Charles started to wolf it down very quickly.

“Slow down darling, or you'll choke on it,“ Erik scolded him without raising his voice, keeping it firm but gentle.

Charles obeyed.

Well, that was unsettling. Erik didn't expect to have to order something like that. Even in 24/7 relationship, submissives had a certain range of liberties on his own body and well being, but Charles seemed to do things only because he was told to. It happened the night before too; even if Erik wasn't sure about his exact phrasing, he had told him at some point to rest a bit. And Charles did, and didn't stir until that morning. In the morning he had cooked him breakfast, without orders on his behalf.

“Charles,“ started Erik. The boy looked up at him. Erik hesitated. “Why did you prepare breakfast?“ he asked directly. Azazel had told him to figure out how it worked, right? And Erik didn't like hitting around the bush.

Instead of answering right away, Charles apologized. “I-I'm sorry, Master,“ he said, looking awfully ashamed, as if preparing breakfast was a deadly sin.

“I'm not angry, Charles,“ Erik clarified quickly. “I just want to know why. It was very good, I'm happy to eat such a good breakfast in the morning, but I didn't ask you to do it. I wanted to know why you saw necessary to cook for me,“ he reassured. Even if he had kept his tone soft but firm, it still sounded like a scolding to his ears. Charles thought seemed somewhat relieved.

“There was nobody else who would have done it, Master,“ was Charles' neat, practical, and matter-of-fact answer.

“Well, I could have done it myself. That's what I do every morning,“ said Erik. Which was a stinking lie, because he actually wasn't used to have breakfast. He didn't have the time, and he preferred sleeping a bit more in the morning. But Charles didn't need to know that. Not yet.

“Did you use to do that at Sebastian's?“

“I did, Master,“ answered Charles dutifully. “It wasn't always me, though,“ he added, making a vague gesture, like to point at other invisible people around them. “I only ever did if nobody else was available at the moment, Master.“

“I see. Why so early, though?“ asked Erik again.

“It was half past six already, Master,“ Charles sounded almost scandalised. He looked incredulous, as if Erik was being exceptionally thick. “If you hadn't had your breakfast before then you -it would have been bad,“ he finished, blushing and going back to his food.

He had changed his phrasing in the middle of the sentence. A very little thing, but enought to tell Erik what was wrong there; he had startled Charles because he wasn't supposed to get in the kitchen for another quarter hour, and Charles had feared to be punished for being late with breakfast.

“If I hadn't had my breakfast, I would have done nothing, Charles. It would have been nothing,“ said Erik gently, watching as the boy absently pushed his eggs around the plate. Charles looked up shyly, but stayed silent. Erik smiled. “Finish your eggs, Charles.“

He let him eat up the rest of his breakfast without prodding him any further. When the young man was about to get up and clean the table, and presumably do the dishes, Erik stopped him, and invited him to stay put with what he hoped was an authoritative tone, but with a side of soothing. He didn't want to scare Charles off. Again.

“I want to make some things clear,“ he started. “Will you listen to me, Charles? Answer me.“

“Yes, Master,“ answered Charles pliantly, looking nervous again. Maybe Erik was being a bit too cautious.

“Good. I want you to know that I'm not Sebastian Shaw, and I'm nowhere near like him. You understand?“

“Yes, Master.“

“That means,“ went on Erik, “that even if I am a Dominant like him -your new Dominant, in fact- I am very different from him too. Which means, it's likely that I will ask and allow you to do things that he might or might not have asked or allowed you to do before. Are you aware of that, Charles?“

“I am aware Master,“ answered Charles, much more formally than before, feeling the importance of the speech. Erik was pleased.

“Good. That means that there will be new rules. I'm not the kind of man who just impose laws on you, and expect you to obey to them; I will ask you if you're ok with them before applying. Are you willing to work them out with me, Charles?“

“I am willing, Master.“ There was hesitation in Charles' voice this time, but Erik was ninety-nine percent sure that it was about the 'work out rules with him' part. Erik smiled at him, and Charles let his mouth relax a bit.

“First rule,“ said Erik -Charles stiffened slightly at his authoritative tone- “Don't call me 'Master'“

“Yes, Ma- uh,“ answered Charles, catching himself before saying the word. Then he hesitated.

Erik expected him to ask what he was supposed to call him then, but the question never came. Charles didn't speak up, ever, if he wasn't asked. Erik had gathered as much. He was going to fix that next.

“Second rule: as long as we are alone with each other, you can speak to me and ask questions, as long as I don't tell you to do otherwise,“ stated Erik.

“Yes, Ma- I-I'm sorry. W-What am I supposed to call you?“ Charles finally asked, but in a very hushed tone.

“Whatever you like, Charles. Even my name, if you like.“

Charles shook his head. “I could never, Ma- I'm sorry. May I call you Sir?“

“Sounds good to me,“ smiled Erik. He actually liked 'Sir' very much, it had been a while since he had a sub who had called him that. “Why not my name, though? I'm just curious, don't worry.“

“It feels very ...personal, Sir,“ explained Charles.

Erik was going to say something about it being fair enough, when Charles basically started rambling. He told Erik how Martin, the blonde sub back at Sebastian's, was the only one allowed to call him by his given name, while the other had to call him 'Master' or 'Doktor', and how Charles was one of those latter but he had a stutter so he couldn't pronounce correctly and Shaw was pissed of at his stuttering 'D' so he just let him call him 'Master' because with the stutter sounded slightly better and-

“Charles,“ Erik stopped him half way. Charles froze.

“I-I'm sorry Sir,“ apologized the young man. He was very, very, very flushed, and he looked very pretty.

Erik smiled a bit. “Don't be, please. You sure like talking. I like that.“

Charles flushed even redder. Erik chuckled.