It was a beautiful day out, with just enough sun to be cheerful and just enough cloud to make it unnecessary to either wear sunglasses or have to squint a lot if you'd forgotten them at home. The view was remarkable, partly because Erik had gotten here early enough to secure them a table in a decent location, but mostly because Erik himself looked just as magnificent in his suit and trilby hat as he always did while playing chess these days.
It should have been a good afternoon, charged with the usual sexual tension—but over the last few moves it had become apparent that this game, at least, was going to end in a draw. Charles, who usually rationalized their trysts these days by telling himself that going back to Erik's place after the game was either a reward (if he'd won) or a punishment (if he hadn't), found himself at a bit of a loss once the apparent draw had become an actual one.
In the old days, the stakes had been higher, the justifications for sleeping with Erik far more easily justified. Paris, 1973: Charles had honestly thought they were back on the same page, that coming together in that way was a physical manifestation of an understanding which, in the end, it turned out he had misunderstood rather badly. Westchester, 1978: Good behavior deserved to be rewarded, and Erik landing on Charles' doorstep with three young mutants he'd rescued from one of the remaining hidden Trask laboratories was more than good enough to qualify. The Savage Land, 1989: Well, they'd just been chased into a cave by a Tyrannosaurus Rex; Charles rather thought wanting to have sex one last time before you were probably going to be eaten was a defensible position, especially since it had been between Erik and a stalagmite at that point. Erik's pornstache, 2001: Well, there hadn't been much else Charles could have bargained with to convince Erik to get rid of that awful thing; besides, when you started with, 'I am never fucking you again if you don't shave your (entire!) face,' well, didn't that imply something would be happening following said shave?
But as for today, Charles couldn't seem to come up with much in the way of excuses. But Erik kept glancing at him while he packed up the game; there was plenty of sexual tension on his end, an expectation that was somehow ramped higher now that they met up several times a week than it had ever been when they'd seen each other twice a year at best.
As it turned out, Erik's expectation was somewhat infectious, and led Charles to the conclusion that he couldn't leave him disappointed. Back in the day, he'd have considered disappointing Erik to be a perk, but he rather liked these quiet visits in the park, conversations about Erik's grandchildren and Charles' students that were the opposite of the politically loaded arguments they'd always had before. He liked the way they ended, too; long afternoons making love in Erik's bedroom, followed by an evening of Charles getting to watch Erik cook something inevitably delicious for dinner, which felt somehow even more intimate than anything they'd done in bed. Sometimes Charles even slept over, these days. Disappointing Erik would be disappointing himself, and wasn't that a good enough reason?
Charles thought it was, and it was enough to lead him to say, "So, what are you feeding me tonight?" and thus relieve some of Erik's tension along with his own, decision made.
***
Other quite good reasons to sleep with Erik, thought of one by one as they undressed together: Erik's hands were as deft for this task as they'd ever been, as dry and warm against Charles' skin as he had anticipated. Erik's naked physique was as magnificent unclothed as he'd ever been in a suit, as far as Charles was concerned. (That waist. Those shoulders. The line of his spine as he leaned over to pull off his socks—!) Erik's patience for the limitations of Charles' body was as boundless as it had ever been, and if Erik's determination to get Charles off no matter how long it took could be frustrating on occasions when Charles would honestly have been fine giving him a handjob and following it up with a nap, that was not an issue today. Erik's enormous cock was—well, Charles' mouth had always watered the moment Erik stepped out of his underwear, and today was no different on that score.
"Well?" Erik asked, sometime later.
Charles was still basking by then. He could still taste the salt of Erik's skin mixed with the bitterness of his come. "'Well,' what?"
"What's your excuse for coming here today?"
At some point, Erik had become aware of the negotiations Charles went through with himself before their trysts. Charles couldn't remember the conversation that had brought this to light, but it must have happened sometime in these last few years. If Erik had known as a younger man, he would have been offended. Erik of the seventies, the eighties, the nineties—he couldn't have borne it, much less have found it as amusing as the Erik of today did.
"Maybe I was looking forward to that risotto," Charles said. At Erik's skeptical look, he added, "Or maybe I like your trilby hat. It suits you."
Both of these things were true. Both of them were or had been reasons Charles had given himself at least once. He wasn't about to admit the reason that was foremost in his mind at that moment, which was the way Erik's mind went so soft in these moments afterward. Erik still guarded himself so closely most of the time, even with Charles. But in these moments, the walls came down, and for a few minutes Erik always thought of how much he loved this, having Charles here with him in his bed. For a few minutes, Erik wondered what it would be like if they could have this every day.
It was a line of thought Erik had always had post-coitally, one which Charles had long since learned not to pay too much attention to, but it felt more honest these days than it ever had before. Recently, there had begun to be a sense of impatience beneath it as well, which led Charles to wonder if, after all, Erik would one day put the thoughts into words and make them real. But it didn't seem likely today, so, even if Charles in this moment could admit to himself how much of a reason it was for him, there was no chance he would admit it to Erik.
"My hat, hmm?" Erik said. He reached over to the dresser for said hat, and placed it on his head.
Charles laughed. By now, he'd nearly stopped being surprised at how often Erik made him laugh. "Well, it just looks silly now."
No, it didn't look like today was that day, the day one of them would ask the other for more. Maybe that day would come, or maybe it wouldn't, but as the rest of the day went on, one evening among the many which had already been and the many more that would be, Charles thought that perhaps the journey was reason enough.