Today Erik is into slow romantic sex. He’d never admit it, but Charles knows, gives him what he wants, fucks him slow and gentle, stares into his eyes and tells him that he is loved. That he is beautiful and worthwhile and deserving of happiness, and Erik comes with Charles’ name on his lips. Afterwards the cuddle, warm and safe and content in a way Erik can’t remember ever feeling before.
Today, Erik likes lingerie. Likes the feel of satin and lace against his cock, loves the forbidden thrill that comes from wearing panties under his clothes. He’s never let anyone see before, but when Charles kisses him, hard and insistent, he gives in, lets Charles strip him, bathes in his lover’s admiration and lust. He feels beautiful, and sexy, and confident, and the orgasm Charles wrings out of him is one of the best of his life.
Today, Erik wants to be hurt. He thinks it’s something that Schmitt implanted in his mind, a way of coping with the horror, but it doesn't matter, because he has claimed it, made it his own, and he is not ashamed. He’s not ashamed, but he’s still nervous when he tell Charles, explains what he wants. But Charles isn’t shocked, or disgusted. Doesn't laugh or turn him away. He kisses him, all teeth and toe-curling want, and crushes Erik’s balls between his long elegant fingers, and it’s the most exquisite thing Erik’s ever felt.
Today Erik loves the thrill of public sex, the risk of being caught. The freedom to do something forbidden after the years of being controlled. He and Charles make love on the lawns behind the mansion, warm sun beating down on them, and even though he knows that Charles will keep any prying eyes from seeing them, it’s exciting.
Today Erik is in love with Charles’ voice, lets Charles tie him to the bedstead and tease him, whispering filth in his ear while Erik writhes beneath him, unable to do anything but beg for release. In the end it takes barely a touch to get him off, Charles’ voice low and urgent in his ears.
Today is Erik’s day off, the day when he’s allowed to remember. Today he knows that those weren't his kinks. That Charles can make him do, make him believe, anything. He gets himself off to the memories, the feeling of Charles inside his head, controlling him, taking away his will. He’s used by now to suppressing that little voice in his mind, the one that asks whether he really likes this. Whether he really loves Charles.
It wouldn't matter even if he didn't.