Touching a hand to his slick hair Remy said, "Time to rinse, mon couer. And finish de bath." My lips tightened in angry resignation, but he was looking over my shoulder, ignoring my expression.
"I t'ink we'll use de shower."
Standing up he turned away from me and stepped sensuously out of the bath, flicking his hair off his shoulder to spray tiny droplets across my chest. I watched in sore fascination as a bead of water ran down his spine, catching just at the top of his dimpled crack. It clung for a long moment like a worshipper refusing to leave the foot of his god before Remy turned back
around to face me, flinging it loose. I almost envied that droplet, worshipping the lovely man before me and then blessedly tossed away, forgotten. If only Remy would let me go as easily.

But he stretched his hand out commanding me to join him, a wily smile on his deceptively gentle features. I took the hand he offered and got out of the water. We padded around to the shower stall without speaking. Assuming it was my job, I turned on the shower and waited for it to warm to a comfortable level. Remy watched me with that mischievious little grin on his face, his
hands tucked behind his back. When I was fairly certain the water was at a temperature he'd find pleasing enough, I stepped back and bowed to him formally.

"My Lord, I think you'll find the water sufficient. Shall I rinse your hair for you?" His grin broadened. Obviously he was in a better mood and would enjoy my playful banter. I was in a better mood myself, in spite of the situation.

Without a word, Remy stepped under the showerhead. "Water's jus' right, mon couer."

Moving behind him, I brought my hands up and ran them through his hair, wringing the conditioner away. I let my hands move as they wanted, to massage his scalp in an almost loving way. Remy leaned back against me letting the water rush over his face and torso, most of his weight perched on my shoulders. After a time, the conditioner completely rinsed from his locks, I
pushed him up gently and reached over to a shelf that held shower supplies. Grabbing the sponge hanging there along with the liquid soap I lathered it up and began to wash my master.

Starting at his neck I ran the soapy sponge slowly, seductively over his skin, letting the foam flow over his back to trickle down and pool at the upturn of his hips. Remy purred under my touch. Caught up in the sound and motion, I nearly fell over when he stepped away. I recovered quickly and followed him to the wall of the shower as he leaned up against it, his back presented to me, his arms hanging loosely at his sides and his forehead resting against the cool tile. I moved up very close to his body and ran the sponge down one of his arms. I let my lathered hand slide down his other arm, moving in tiny circles. Shivers and gasps fell from his lips like the water spraying down onto the tiled floor.

Taking my time, trying not to contemplate what emotions had taken hold of me, I stroked his firm muscles, digging my fingers in with the soapy water to massage and cleanse every inch of his skin. I think I wanted him quaking under my fingertips, burning for my touch in much the same way I had been enflamed by his power, overwhelmed by his thrall. And I was rewarded for my
diligence by an empathetic wave surging over me. Without thinking I raised my hips against his rear and pressed my length up his spine eliciting a groan. My hands came around and I soaked his chest with the lathered sponge, playing with his nipples. Remy undulated back into my groin, this time causing me to gasp as pain and pleasure past through me. Alex had been undeniably correct: Remy was better than even his boasts.

For long tantalizing minutes we teased each other. I continued to wash him and fondle his lean body. And he continued to sway his hips in a very provocative manner. Our groans and gasps and whimpers the only sounds we made. No words, and I wouldn't place my lips on his skin.

After several unfufilled  moments, I placed my hands on his hips to hold him still. I was running on instinct, not sure exactly what to do, but knowing that so far I'd been driving him wild. At least the sensations that he projected out to me told me so. I moved a little to the side of him to watch his face. His eyes were closed, his head still hung down, forhead resting on the wall, and he was worrying his bottom lip in arousal. I wanted to bite into that swollen lip, sucking it hard. It looked so delicious as droplets of water or perhaps sweat held fast to the underside. But then he opened his eyes and I cringed at the knowing look he gave me, red eyes glowing with confidence. He'd bring me to ecstasy beyond my wildest dreams and I'd be his forever. I couldn't let him believe that. Not now. Hopefully never.

So I bent to a crouch and focused on his legs. I curled the sponge around his right foot, touching his calf to get him to lift it. Each toe and then the bottom of the foot was cleaned and I moved to the left. Then I ran up  his entire leg, lathering all of it, once again not missing an inch of his skin. When I reached the area where his thigh met his groin, I ran a finger feather-light along the length of his shaft. As it bobbed and grew even more erect, Remy cursed me in French and Cajun, then swatted my head saying, "Tease!" I smiled and went to work on the other leg.

Pretty soon all that was left was his cock and his rear. I stepped back squeezing the sponge into my hand forming a thick foam. Then I dropped the sponge and grabbed both of his ass cheeks, copying his own particular style of kneading the flesh. One finger ran the length of his crack and prodded the opening. But he stepped forward with a warning growl, "No, cher. Dat's not
for you." I shrugged. It was worth the try.

I moved my hands back over his ass, trailing them over his hips, stroking the bony flesh for a second before plunging on to his cock. The slippery foam helped my hands slide up and down with ease, and Remy began a thrusting rhythm as I jacked him off. My hand ran smooth and fast along his slick cock drenched by the shower and soap. I pumped him furiously, waiting for that
wash of empathetic power as he climaxed. But Remy was selfish. He kept his power in check. So in my frustration I squeezed down hard causing him to buck back into me with a hiss as he grabbed my arm vise-like.

Remy's hips plowing into my swollen sensitive erection drew a yelp from me and I let go of him, stumbling back. He spun around, angry, his member now limp from the pain I'd induced. As he stalked toward me I stepped back further and further until I hit the wall under the rushing spray of the shower head. And Remy was there in a flash, his nose inches from my face.

"Tryin' to tear it off, mon ami?" His voice was amazingly steady,but I could hear the underlying menace.

"N-no." I stammered out my reply. "I wanted that sensation. What you did before." It had been incredible, that surge of his own sensual feeling he'd let wash through me. But there was something else about it. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. Something I felt was missing in me that the experience gave back in part. I'd felt safe for a moment, as if back on familiar territory. But a blind spot came up in my mind and I couldn't pin down where that sense of safety came from.

I choked on my words as Remy snickered, then began to laugh heartily. He placed both hands on my neck, caressing the back with his fingers. "Oh mon petit, you are greedy!"

Pressing his lips tenderly down on mine, he sought entrance. Waves of euphoria swirled through my brain to spiral down my spine, flooding my
nervous system. Remy entwined his fingers in mine and lifted my hands above my head. Leaning into me he placed his knee between my legs stirring my groin. I moaned helplessly into the kiss, willingly granting him entry.

"Yes." I pleaded breathlessly, beyond hope of resisting this rush of sensations. "Please. Give it to me."

I was also way beyond caring that I begged. Even if I couldn't climax physically, that energy was like a mental burst and oh so highly addictive. *Again.* I thought over and over. *Do it again.*

However, Remy wouldn't let me reach the end. He broke away, his lips trailing across my cheek as the tendrils of energy receded. It took all my willpower at that point not beg him to sustain the thrill. There still belonged to me a tiny rational bit of thought, even in the height of his affection. Apparently I wasn't completely beyond humiliation. I'd only beg so much.

Remy lapped at the water coarsing down my face, catching it as it pooled at the corners of my upturned lips. I kept my eyes closed and my mouth slightly open, relishing the constant flood of moisture past my lips. I felt raw and vulnerable and as near to broken as I'd ever been by the surge of emotions wracking my body. Remy had been right. If he kept up this torrent of feeling
he'd have me, body, heart and soul. He'd have my love.

Yet it was unthinkable to push him away, to beg him to stop. And he already knew I wanted what he had to offer. It was so easy to accede when he whispered in my ear, "Wash yourself, cher. I want to watch you. I want you fresh for me tonight."

He moved back releasing my fingers. Feeling dazed and blind, I reached over to the shelf acting out of habit. Hair first, then body. My head dropped back under the shower as I lathered it well. And Remy came close again, his fingers trailing down my chest, circling once around the hardening nipples and then dipping like a tease across my stomach causing the muscles there to
quiver. It was nearly impossible to concentrate on the task at hand, but I succeeded, wringing the water out of my cropped reddish-brown hair. I repeated the process out of routine, unable to really think. This time when I rinsed, Remy was even closer, twirling the strands between his fingers.

"I t'ink I'd like to see you wit' long hair. You'll grow it for me, petit." I was a statement murmured against my cheek. An order to be obeyed. So I nodded and he kissed me for my submission, swift along my cheek. Suddenly embarrassed by how easily he played me, I moved quickly around him to retrieve the sponge. An excuse just to get away for a moment, to breath easier for a second. I could feel a flush beginning to burn across my pale skin. Remy said nothing. But I noted the frown he wore when I stood, sponge in hand.

Giving him a foolish grin, I swiveled the sponge, sudden relief washing through me when he returned my smile. And I realized that while I told myself I didn't consciously want what he had to offer, I certainly didn't want to incure his wrath either.

Stepping back under the shower, I slowly, methodically began to bathe. I think most people wouldn't equate me with sensuality. I'm not completely comfortable with my body, almost shy about it. I understand the concept of its attraction, but I can't really believe that it's beautiful as Remy told me. When I look in the mirror all I see are the peculiar ruby quartz glasses
that hide my eyes and brand me a mutant, the too gaunt form that earned me the nickname 'slim', though I've worked hard to fill out my frame, and the austere facial features that bare an aloofness only magnified by my hidden eyes. I rarely smiled, never really able to relax. And my body reflected that restrictiveness. How could Remy be drawn to someone so awkward, I wondered? Perhaps my gracelessness was in itself alluring?

I couldn't dance for Remy. I couldn't perform in this sexually charged uncomfortable atmosphere. So I washed myself like I always do, painfully aware of his eyes on me. And I think my guilelessness only endeared me to him more. He stepped closer. I had turned away from him to ease the fluster I felt as he looked at me, his eyes hooded, his lust palpable. Tremors wracked
my body when he ran his hands up my lathered sides. He pressed his torso across my back and slid his fingers around my chest to tweak my nipples, sending a shock of electricity down to my groin. I wriggled, trying to get away from his touch as the swell of my cock throbbed even harder. At the same time in contradiction to the pain, I pushed back into his hips, a shameless
invitation for him to enter me.

"Don' stop." Remy whispered, a honeyed caress against my ear. "Touch yourself, cher." His hands worked their way lower and lower towards my painful groin, pausing at my navel to circle it over and over, forcing me to crush back against his body, keeping me where he wanted me. Remy was wringing every provocative gesture from me, eroding any resolve I had to not give into his allure. My hands moved as if possessed, gliding across my torso with the sponge in one hand, pinching the nipples with my other, undulating all the while, pleading with my body for Remy to finish it, to set me free, to give me my release. And then his hand reached the cock ring and he murmured something I never before would have found so tempting from another man. "Come for me, Scott."

The ring was released and I spasmed uncontrollably as Remy brought one of his hands down to wrap around my swollen cock giving it a gentle squeeze and a quick stroke before letting it go. God, it felt so good! The spray of the shower and the soapy lather made it so easy to slide along my flesh as my body jerked like a marionette on a wire. I dropped the bath sponge to grab
myself with both hands while Remy placed one hand on my belly to hold me steady. Then he moved his other hand to cover one of my hands. He rode the movement until I reached the tip, then stroked the rosy head with his thumb, pressing into the slit. I bucked backward with a groan until he stroked back down to the root. Together, we set up a swift intense rythm. Remy purred soft words of encouragement in my ear, stirring my mind into a whorl of emotions. I thrust faster and faster, whimpering and gasping. And when he projected the feel of his hand moving on top of my hand, a finger rubbing across the tip as we reached it each time, I exploded in a forward surge, gurgling inarticulately. I saw white for several long moments. Then stars and flashes of light. Then his soft lips coming toward me through the water, murmuring his love, his desire, "Mon amour, you'll always belong to me. Mon couer. Si beau..." I was facing him now, wrapped in his arms in a sweet embrace. Oh dear God, he would have me! All I wanted to do was drown in his kiss.

But he pulled away, smearing my seed across his chest. "Scott, mon cher..." was all he had to say and I was licking my taste from him, sucking his nipples clean. My hands were on his hips holding onto him tightly and I began to move down toward his stomach. He stopped me then and lifted me back up, kissing me quickly, then setting me out of the way to let the shower cleanse him more thoroughly.

I could feel my heart drumming swiftly against my chest and my breathing was deep and steady, but rapid none the less, as I watched him. The desire to touch him was like a craving that sickened me as I stood in the cool air outside the warm spray. I leaned my head back trying to slow my breathing, ashamed and angry. How could I have succumbed so easily to him? He'd
manipulated my emotions making me beg and I'd heeled like a dog to the sound of his master's voice. I caught a sob deep in my throat before it reached the air. I'd be damned if I showed him my shame. One more battle he'd have won.

A hand touched my shoulder and I opened my eyes to look at Remy, unable to disguise my pain and fury. His own eyes showed only tenderness and maybe sympathy. He understood. But it didn't change anything. Touching my cheek, he
swamped my senses again with his empathy, and I calmed visibly as he took my hand. We stepped out into the bathroom and he guided me toward the archway into the mirrored room. Grabbing a fresh towel from one of the cabinets, Remy wrapped me in it and pampered me dry. My lids drooped under the onslaught of his power. I felt so tired. But then he was prodding me over to one of the sinks, placing a toothbrush into my hand, and telling me to brush. His power receded and I felt drained of my anger and shame. I did what he told me to.

Remy dried himself off quickly, then brushed his teeth also. When we'd finished, he patted the counter of the sink and told me to sit up on it. He produced a comb from one of the drawers and proceeded to comb out my hair. I almost fell asleep under his gentle touch. But before I could dose off, he was done and handed me the comb. I ran it through his hair, trying to match
his gentleness, but his locks were longer and a little more difficult to untangle. He cursed at me a few times, but didn't threaten to punish. I gave him a sad smile in the mirror and he quieted. "No cher, it's okay. Just don' pull so hard."