A/N: Nsomniacartist, See1like, rEdRoSeSiNaUgUsT, Kyoko, Cassy27, vampireluvr15, ninireader, Kittendragon, CherryBlossom1991, yAoI_tEnShI1412, nekoshuichi69, GeorginoschkaVincen, thank you! Without your continued inspiration, I would lose interest in sharing this story. You are awesome and every review makes my day! :) And, your guesses about what is going on with different things is really good and makes this story better.

To be honest, I'm a little nervous about this chapter. In my original draft of this story (which is mostly thrown out now), Charles literally gave like a three sentence explanation for his muteness. It wasn't something I really thought through until now, and you all have been looking forward to this. Hopefully it came out okay! :)

Lehnsherr's Law

Charles did not answer for a minute. Erik waited in high anticipation, still focused on those warm puffs of air. Finally Charles opened his mind again.

I wondered if you would ask. It's a bit complicated.

"Are you mute?" Erik wondered.

No, nothing like that. There is nothing physically wrong to my knowledge, though it is possible my time at government facilities damaged my vocal chords.

Erik decided he really needed to take Charles to the doctor at the first opportunity. With everything he'd gone through, who knew what could be wrong or damaged without them knowing it. He refocused on the situation at hand. "When did you stop speaking?"

Charles thought for a minute. The last time I willingly spoke was when I told Raven to run for it when my stepfather attacked us. After that I was gagged and drugged.

Erik could feel Charles's tension and reluctance like it was a solid thing, but he pressed on, needing to know. "What happened?"

Charles rolled over to face him, placing his fingers on Erik's temple and lifting his eyebrows questioningly. Erik gave a short nod.

Blurred faces. Something small, sharp, biting, poking him. What time was it? How much time had passed? Where was Raven?

And why did the lights have to be so bright and nauseating? His stomach roiled. Where was he? He was on something. Or was it under something? So, so difficult to tell, why was that? Something was terribly wrong.

Everything was spinning. Was that wetness on his face? He couldn't seem to move his hands properly. A voice, saying something he couldn't understand, far too loudly. Why wouldn't it stop? He tried to say "STOP!" but all that came out was a sort of strangled moan.

But he didn't have to use his mouth, did he? A distant anxiety warned him to be cautious, but here, in this odd place disconnected to reality, it would be perfectly harmless, wouldn't it? He had such fog to work through, though. He'd have to really unleash his power to be heard.

STOP!

Finally, something stilled, and that voiced faded for a bit, he had no idea how long though. So hard to move and see. Was he underwater? But then, how was he breathing? Though he wasn't sure he was doing that either. Was he dead?

He fell asleep.

When he woke up, things appeared much clearer. He knew up from down, and remembered a bit about his situation, being captured, the government facility, being separated from Raven, although his limbs still weighed far to much, his thoughts sluggish.

Slowly the memory of using his telepathy surfaced in his mind, dread pooling in his stomach. Had he really done that? How could he have been so stupid, allowed himself to show weakness, to be manipulated? That was precisely what they wanted, to assess him. He'd been betrayed by his own weakness, given himself away, just as his family had. Now, he would be chipped. Enslaved.

His breathing sped up. How could his mother have married a man who would betray him like this? Did she not love him at all? Distantly, Charles knew the drugs were triggering hysterics, but he couldn't help himself as he cried helplessly. Now, he had not only been betrayed by his family, by the government and slaver society, but by himself as well. They had tricked him, forced him to lose control.

He heard footsteps approaching.

He had to stop. He had to STOP. He would not given them the satisfaction of hearing him cry. He would not lose control again. He would not play into their hands anymore. He would not allow himself to be betrayed again, by himself or anyone.

He would exert complete control over himself, whatever it took.

Still hysterical from the drugs and his situation, he gathered his power. Never before had he tried to use it on himself, but he did so now, sluggish and unfocused, but with great determination. He could feel his mind shutting down.

The crying stopped abruptly.

The person entered the room, still nothing but a blur to Charles. Something was injected into his arm, and he passed out again.

When he woke, his head was clearer than ever, though his stomach felt simply awful. He got up and rushed to a solitary wastebasket he spied in the corner of the white room he found himself in, emptying the meager contents of his stomach into it.

As he bent over, he noticed an odd soreness in the back of his neck. When he finally quit heaving, he rubbed it, feeling a scar there.

He'd been chipped.

Panicked, he reflexively tried to reach out with his telepathy, but nothing happened. It was like a part of his mind was walled off.

Before he could process things any further, a black haired woman in green scrubs entered. "You're awake," she commented, making a slight face at the evidence of Charles's sour stomach.

Charles made no move to answer her or acknowledge her beyond a cursory glance, his face sickly pale. Opening his mouth seemed like a bad idea.

"I'm Mallory. What is your name?" she asked, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Charles finally turned, stone faced, but made no move to speak, breathing uneven.

"No one seems to know your name, so you're going to have to give it, or be called by a number."

Charles attempted to speak, but nothing came out. His speech seemed to be walled off in his mind like his telepathy was, the shock of this living nightmare conquering his mind.

This couldn't be happening. He would wake up soon, and find out this wasn't real, right? He couldn't be enslaved, betrayed, helpless like this. Nonononononononono...

Erik's awareness of the sterile white room faded into the puff of warm air on his chest, the soft mattress underneath him, a warm body curled into him, and the darkness of the surrounding room. Erik tightened his arms around him protectively. Nothing like that would every happen to this man again if he could help it. Charles's voice resumed in his mind.

As the shock wore off, I still couldn't seem to speak. I thought it might be a result of turning my power against myself to stay quiet and in control. Without use of my power, I couldn't correct it, if that was the case.

But as time went on, and they forced me, punished me, debased me, I decided it didn't matter. Since they took away my insight to other people and used it against me, then I would not let them have any insight to me, would not give them anything to use against me further, to betray me more. I vowed not to even try to speak again until I was free, my powers returned.

They thought they could control me, manipulate me, break me into speaking or whatever else they wanted. They were wrong. I would not let myself be vulnerable again to betrayal, from either them or my own weakness, in whatever way I could manage. While they could force my body, they could not force my mind.

So it started as an act of rebellion and as a vain attempt to protect myself. But over the years, it turned into the last bit of freedom and autonomy I had. They could make me do all kinds of things, but they couldn't make me speak. In that, at least, I was my own master. Speaking, in my mind, became synonymous with giving in to being the dumb, worthless animal I was treated as, to being broken. So even though my situation seemed hopeless and my resistance a bit foolish, I stuck to my vow of silence.

Now, even though I am basically free and using my powers, I still can't seem to speak out loud. I'm not sure why.

Erik searched for an appropriate response to what he just learned. He knew Charles wasn't telling him everything, shielding him from experiences, no doubt very horrible, that played a big role in it. The inhibition could be from trauma or something, not telepathy, that Charles simply didn't want him to know. Still, he knew Charles had never shared even this much with anyone, and that touched him. "I will never betray you like that."

I know you won't, replied Charles confidently.

"What happened to you, never should have happened."

It's in the past now, Erik. You inspired me to move on. You still do, in fact. I expect I will regain my speech eventually.

Erik found it somewhat ironic that Charles should find such inspiration in him, a man deeply entrenched in the past himself. Yet, he thought he knew what Charles meant. "You trust me."

Yes, Charles replied simply.

Erik smiled softly at that. He didn't press on further, satisfied for now. Gradually, the two of them fell asleep.

Erik woke up late the next morning to the feel of Charles's soft lips moving against his. Erik opened his eyes, shifted his arms and began kissing him back. When they broke apart, Erik said, "I could get used to that, you know."

That's good because this will be happening a lot.

"Oh?" said Erik playfully. "Not going to get bored of me?"

Never, Charles returned, grinning.

Erik's gaze turned lustful. "Feeling better this morning?"

Hmm, not quite. Before Erik could frown in disappointment, he added with an impish grin, Though I know the antidote. You inside me.

Erik's eyes darkened as his cock sprang to life. He reached around with his hands, trailing along the scarred back before arriving at Charles's ass. He took a hold of the small cheeks and squeezed, spreading them. Mine, he thought, not caring if Charles heard.

Charles's breathing quickened. Yes, all yours, Erik. He pushed into the strong, large hands.

Erik smiled in satisfaction, tightening his grip, seeking fingers finding his hole. Charles's breath hitched and he squirmed a bit, clenching down on the possessive digits teasing him open. His desire flooded Erik's mind, so Charles closed his eyes, trying not to lose it completely.

Remembering the moan he managed to provoke last night, Erik rolled them so that he now topped Charles, moving his hands so he could pin him down by his arms and forced his legs between his, bringing their bare cocks firmly together. Charles did not disappoint, emitting a hoarse grunt that ended with a high pitched noise which would have embarrassed Erik if he'd been the one making it. As it was, he grinned smugly and ground down powerfully, successfully earning a repeat of the same noise, but louder this time, Charles bucking up into him.

Please Erik, I want you inside me...not going to last like this...

Erik's balls tightened at this, and he thrust down, unable to resist hearing that strangled noise one more time. He reached over to the nightstand where he'd stashed the lube last night and brought himself to a sitting position as he opened the jar, his cock throbbing urgently, Charles's bursts of needy projection urging him to hurry. He lubed up his fingers and wriggled them into the squirming, clenching telepath, greasing his cock with his other hand. Charles was surprisingly loose and pliant already, and, through the thick haze of arousal, Erik remembered Charles's comments about superior control. It seemed he was about to reap the benefits of that.

Seeing no more reason to wait, he set the jar back on the nightstand and folded Charles's legs into position. He grasped the writhing telepath's hips firmly, pinning them to the bed as he lined himself up, rubbing himself on the hole eagerly pushing towards him. Both gasping now, he entered with one long thrust, marveling at the ease of it, groaning at the heat, tightness, and bliss at being inside him again at last.

Now fully sheathed, he let go of his hips and braced his arms on either side of Charles, relieving him of his not inconsiderable weight.

Please, Erik, dominate me, take me hard, make me forget everyone else... Big blue eyes met his beseechingly.

Erik groaned and closed his eyes at the onslaught of desires and images escaping from Charles's mind to his, his balls tightening dangerously. If his little minx wasn't careful, he would come before he could give him what he wanted. Their eyes met again, pupils blown wide, and Erik leaned down, kissing him firmly, thoughts of mine, all mine, intoxicating him.

The feeling of Charles spreading his legs further and clenching down, squeezing him with his ass was all the encouragement Erik needed to start moving again, adjusting himself to match Charles's fantasies. He sucked and bit at Charles's neck and collarbone, marking him and pinned him with his arms and body while he thrusted into him with all of his considerable strength.

Charles gasped, squirmed, clenched, and attempted to buck, but could not accomplish more than tiny reflexive jerks under the power of Erik's hold. His cock was crushed between their stomachs with delicious pressure, though he longed for friction mostly denied him. His blood ran hot as Erik let loose some of his more aggressive, dominant tendencies, the forcefulness making his somewhat neglected cock jerk. He struggled, attempting to 'escape' but Erik just held him down harder, making his efforts quite futile and his balls tighten. Trapped, in ecstasy at being so thoroughly claimed by someone he wanted, he could do nothing but lie there helplessly as Erik slammed into his prostate, igniting fireworks in his brain and wresting a keening sound from his throat, his reflexive bucking and clenching ruthlessly inhibited by Erik's far superior strength. His legs, the only part of him with any freedom to move, scrabbled uselessly for purchase on the slippery, silken sheets as Erik slammed into his prostate again.

With a broken, wrecked gasp, Erik rammed into that sweet spot yet again, going over the edge as Charles made another debauched noise and clenched tight and hot around him. Sensing Erik's release was more than enough to give Charles the final trigger for his own. Erik loosened his grip on him and rolled off, catching his breath. That had to have been some of the hottest sex he'd ever had, even taking into account all of his previous encounters with Charles.

It astounded him that someone as powerful as his mutant would submit to him like that, for he had no doubt that if Charles wanted, he could have frozen him and turned the tables in an instant. But, at the same time, he could understand Charles's desire to be dominated, to be given a sense of belonging to someone who cared about him and wanted things in his best interest, as there had clearly been precious little of that in his life, even before his slavery. Erik desired the same thing, having missed it dearly since his parents died. All the same, he usually preferred being dominant, hanging on tightly and not letting go, feeling the power to make him stay and not lose him, as he did his parents.

Noting how sticky, sweaty, and undoubtedly smelly he was, Erik said, "I'm going to take a shower."

Really, Erik? That is all you have to say about it? I'm offended, Charles said teasingly.

Erik gave him a mock irritated look, knowing full well Charles had complete awareness of how much he enjoyed it. He got up, and Charles followed him into the large, luxurious bathroom and tub. What used to be a mundane chore now was an exciting, playful experience he had no desire to rush.

When they finally emerged from the bathroom, Erik grabbed them large helpings of the complimentary breakfast to bring back to their room. He was quite pleased with the selection, being far superior to the places he usually stayed at, so he got them each a little of almost everything. While he thought having someone around would make him feel intruded and burdened, Charles did no such thing. In fact, he was quite enjoying taking care of him like this, having him there to share things with.

"You should try the blueberry muffins. They're really good," recommended a feminine voice behind him. Erik turned. The first thing he noticed was her eyes: one green, one blue.

"Amy Wallis, Attorney at Law," she introduced herself, smiling.

"Erik Lehnsherr," he returned politely. He gave a short smile back and added the blueberry muffins to the plates. Maybe Charles would let him feed them to him. Just the thought of him sucking the blueberry off his fingers urged him for a round two.

"I've heard of you!" she exclaimed brightly.

Warning bells sounded in Erik's mind. He turned back to her sharply. "You have?"

"Yes. I specialize in slavery laws. I like to research how the laws came to be." She frowned at Erik's blank expression. "You mean, you don't know?"

"Know what?" Erik asked, alarmed, but covering it up with a frown.

"You have a law named after you, known to us lawyers as Lehnsherr's Law. It's admittedly not widely known, just a short sub clause that most people overlook, except for those directly affected. It requires that during testing for mutations, nothing physically harmful is allowed, only drugs. Word got out about the methods used on you and how you turned out to be perfectly normal, and there was all kinds of paperwork to prove it. It appalled quite a few people that a human had been tortured, so the law was made." She paused. "I'm sorry if I seem tactless about your experience. I'm sure it was dreadful."

Erik blinked a few times in surprise. He had heard nothing about this. Then again, directly after his time with Shaw, he'd been shipped off to a government establishment to be educated and cared for until he came of age. He'd been quite solitary and secluded, and admittedly quite depressed for awhile, partly because of persistent, horrible headaches that made him shut himself in dark, silent rooms for hours until they finally passed. It was entirely possible this had gone on without him knowing it. "I didn't know about this," he admitted. A part of him swelled in satisfaction. Though he knew, from experiencing Charles's memory, that the drugs were no picnic, it did hearten him to know that his suffering had bought at least a little less suffering for many mutants and humans, including Charles. It hadn't been completely pointless or in vain.

"Well, there you are. Famous, and you didn't even know it!" She grinned playfully.

Erik let out a short huff of a laugh. He mentally backtracked through the conversation. "You specialize in slavery laws?"

"I do! Back when I was in lawyer school, there was a great need for them because of all the new laws being made so I made that my specialty."

Erik glanced around, then met her cheerful gaze. "I have some questions. Could I make an appointment?"

"No need for that. I have time right now. Did you want to go somewhere private?"

Erik debated. Discussing slaves and what they could and couldn't do in front of Charles held little appeal. He preferred not to acknowledge their legal relationship as much as possible. "I have nothing to hide," he assured her.

"Then let's sit down," she said. He followed her to a comfortable dark green couch in the sitting area of the breakfast room and sat down beside her. "Are you having some kind of problem?"

"No. I recently bought a slave, but I have no idea what my legal expectations and responsibilities are with him."

"Haven't been around them much, have you? Well, I can't say I blame you," she said, smiling sympathetically. "What did you buy him for?"

Caught off guard, Erik turned his head away, trying to come up with something. 'Companion' sounded too pathetic (who wants to say they had to buy someone to spend time with them?) and 'pleasure' sounded too degrading to Charles. He met her heterochromia eyes again. "Just general assistance with my day to day life," he offered finally.

"I didn't mean to pry," she said, sensing his reluctance. "It's just that knowing what his purpose is will help me tailor my answers to your specific situation."

Erik gave a short nod. "I would like a general overview. Also, when restraints are required." Finally he would know for sure what was expected, so he would not risk losing Charles through some legal gaffe.

Erik spent the next half hour discussing the dos and don'ts with the friendly brunette, breakfast forgotten and going cold on the table beside him. He couldn't believe his luck. What were the chances of running into just the kind of person he needed to talk to, especially so fast?

"So," she said, smiling coyly, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "What are your plans for tonight?"

"I'm going to Chumley's for a party," Erik told her, figuring revealing this wouldn't hurt and not wanting to be rude after how helpful she'd been.

"What a coincidence! I'm going there too!" she said, her smile brightening. "What do you say, we go together?"

"I - " started Erik, atypically speechless. He could hardly reveal he considered himself already taken. So he settled for, "I'm bringing my slave."

She laughed. "Oh, don't worry, I meant just as friends." She leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Sorry, but it's pretty obvious you're gay."

Erik gave her a dubious look.

"I mean, come on. A hot man like you, single, at your age? Who obviously doesn't foresee himself in a relationship? I can see no other explanation." She smiled kindly. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Erik huffed a laugh disbelievingly.

Her face sobered. "Are you aware that the people going are close associates of Sebastian Shaw?" she asked, concerned.

"Yes," he admitted.

"Then why go? I would think you'd want nothing to do with your former tormentor," she reasoned.

"I know he's coming. I want to get an invite to his boat so I can meet him. Face my past and put it behind me," he told her. He knew that telling her this would make her suspect him when Shaw was found murdered, but that would make no difference if he didn't leave enough evidence to be convicted. Maybe Charles could do something if she did become a problem.

"Well, in that case, maybe I can help you. Put in a good word for you with the guys. I think facing your fears is an admirable thing." She smiled softly.

Erik didn't correct her. He didn't fear Shaw, he hated him. Still, he was growing a bit suspicious. Her arrival was too timely, too helpful. Was something behind this? Some sort of trap? "Why are you really helping me?" he asked seriously.

"You are a very suspicious man, aren't you? Though I do understand why. Well, originally I hoped to pick you up, since I don't have a date tonight, but after getting to know you I realized, of course, that was a no go! Still, I have always wondered what happened to you, since you pretty much fell off the map after you left the government facility. I think it's completely awful what you went through and if there's any way I can help you put it behind you, I will." She paused, her expression kind. "So what do you say? Shall we go together or are you convinced that I'm some sort of secret government agent out to get you?"

Erik smiled in defeat. He'd been a little unsure if he, a complete stranger to them, could charm Shaw's men into an invitation to Shaw's boat through just one 'accidental' meeting at the pub. She obviously knew them and her recommendation of him could be just what he needed. He would have to take the risk of trusting her. "Shall we meet here and drive there together?"

"That would be splendid," she acquiesced. They worked out the details, and then she left him with the two plates of breakfast, gone cold.

Erik felt a stab of guilt for being away from Charles for so long with no explanation, especially if he was as famished as Erik now realized he himself was. Still, he would probably understand once he explained what happened. He reheated the breakfast and returned to their hotel room.

When he entered he paused, smiling softly at the sight of Charles lying on their bed, watching TV. Charles met his gaze as he walked toward him with the plate of food, smiling in thanks as Erik handed it to him.

"I'm sorry I took so long," Erik apologized. He opened his mouth to start explaining, but Charles cut him off.

No need to apologize, Erik. When you didn't come back I reached out to check on you, to make sure everything was all right. So I know what happened. No need to explain.

Erik smiled in relief, climbed up beside him and immediately started eating, ignoring the TV. The vigorous activity this morning made him quite hungry. He glanced over at Charles a few times, privately enjoying the sight of him beside him, on their bed. Now when he would waken from a nightmare, Charles would be there. While he was a grown man and could deal with them himself, they still were no picnic and it was nice to have him there in support.

Come to think of it, he had no nightmares since he'd started sharing a bed with him. He wondered if it was merely having Charles there or if the telepath was doing something to keep them at bay, so they both got a good night's sleep. Either way, he decided to leave it alone, for now, and enjoy the respite.

He was about to eat the muffin when he remembered his earlier fantasy. Charles turned out to be quite amendable to it. Erik soon lost himself in the unbelievably erotic experience of having those red lips suck his fingers clean of the blueberry stains as he fed him. He fairly hummed with pleasure, his worries eased, leaving him atypically optimistic. Everything was falling into place. Things would work out, with everything: Charles, Raven, Shaw.

Shaw's days - hours, even - were numbered.