When I'd finished combing his hair into one smooth silky wave, we went back into his bedroom, Remy grabbing his robe and me helping him into it. The smell of food immediately hit me and sent a wave of nausea rolling through my stomach. I grabbed Remy's shoulder to keep from stumbling, putting my other hand to my belly.

"Oh, mon petit." Remy said, his voice full of concern. "De food? Is de smell to much for you?" He wrapped a steadying arm around my waist as I nodded. "It will pass in a moment. It's been too long since you've had a full meal. We'll take it slow, cher. A few bites to see how you'll handle it."

I took a deep breath as the nausea lessened. But now the pangs of hunger were sharp and I wouldn't pass up this opportunity to eat till I was stuffed. "I'm okay. It smells okay now. Just took me by surprise."

Remy smiled, his expression showing he knew I'd lie through my teeth to get at the food. "Perhaps we should wait 'til you feel better." He teased. "I'll have de servants take de table away."

"No!" I cried clutching his shoulder tighter. "Really...Master. I'm fine."
Remy chuckled but said nothing else as he led me over to small dining table set in front of the fireplace. Again that sense of romance came to me as I looked at the elegant setting. Two small delicately worked silver candleholders sat in the middle with two white candles burning softly. A crystal vase with one red rose sat between them. But there was only one place set for dining. The rest of the table held silver covered serving dishes. And there was only one chair. I looked at the setup in confusion for a moment until Remy lowered himself into the seat and said, "Kneel, pet. Here beside me."

I closed my eyes and rubbed my face with a fatigued anger that came close to depression. How long was it going to take to sink in that Remy wasn't going to treat me like an equal? I was his pet as he said. His slave. This one command deflated me, and humiliation ran through me. Was he going to feed me from his hand too? With bitter resignation and a heavy sigh, I dropped to my knees and waited.

As if on cue, Henri opened the door and came in. He went around to the other side of Remy. "My Lord, shall I serve you now?"

Remy rubbed Henri's upper arm affectionately. "Mon petit, have you finished your lessons today?" Henri bit his lip nervously. "Well...I..."

Remy ruffled his hair and began to speak to him in French. Henri replied, occasionally receiving a tut-tut from his lord. I kept my head down, not understanding a word, silent and brooding. Finally Remy said to Henri in English, "You need to study, petit. A gentleman's gentleman must be well educated, Henri. And I wouldn't feel dat it was right to get you dat new Final Fantasy game de next time I go to Earth, if you don' know your lessons." Remy winked at the boy as Henri's eyes got wide.

"I'm sorry, sir." He said. "I'll study harder. I promise."

Remy laughed. "Of course, petit. A little encouragement helps perhaps. G'on, cher. We'll serve ourselves. I won't need you tonight." I looked up to see Henri smile brightly back at Remy. Then he ran like the little boy he was to the door. "And don' stay up too late on dat playstation!" Remy hollared at him as he skipped out the door. As it slammed shut, he looked down at me. "Kids. What a joy in life, non?"

I just looked at him evenly, trying to betray no emotion. But his smile faltered and his eyes narrowed slightly. "What is it, Scott?"

"Nothing." I muttered. "Nothing." When I looked down, Remy raised my chin to look at me.

"Non. Somet'ing's de matter. You'll answer me."

"What do you want me to say?" I asked. Then I spoke candidly. He wanted the truth, I'd give it to him. "I hate this. I hate how you treat me. Like some pet. What's next? Are you planning on feeding me table scraps with your hand. I'm no dog!"

"Of course not, cher!" Remy smiled again wickedly. Then his eye grew serious. "But you are too willful right now. I told you that at this point you wouldn't like what I'd ask of you. But a slave must be brought to heel. You must understand your place, petit."

"Fine." I snarled.

Remy grasped my jaw tightly. "Don' take dat tone wit' me, Scott. You wouldn't want to experience de punishment I deal for unruly slaves, believe me."

He tossed my head back, irritated for the moment. "Now, you are hungry, eh?"

Still a bit recalcitrant, I nodded. "And yes," Remy added as if to heighten the sting of humiliation, "you will eat from my hand, mon choit."I took in a sharp irritated breath and let it out just as sharply. To which Remy made a tut-tut noise. He'd have none of my obstinant attitude. I dropped my head and plucked absently at the rug. I felt him watch me for a moment, even expected a blow for my disrespect, but then he leaned forward and began to inspect the dishes laid out in front of him.

"Mmmmmm." I looked up to see him with one hand holding the silver cover of one of the entrees. His eyes were closed and he was taking a delighted sniff. Food was almost as good as sex for him. "Si bien. Delicious." He looked down at me then. "Hope you like Cajun, cher."

My eyebrows crinkled in puzzlement. "I always ate the crap you served." I retorted. Strange he didn't remember that.

Remy hesitated. For a moment he seemed uncertain. Then he placed the cover back over the serving dish and sat back, chuckling. "Oui. But I don't recall you ever telling me you liked my cooking. I t'ought it was some stoic fearless leader act. Boost de morale or somet'ing. Or maybe Jean made you eat it." He winked at me and I couldn't help but give him a weak smile.

"No. I really liked some of it." I told him honestly.

"Good. Your baby brot'er don' like it much. Strictly Midwestern meat n' potatoes, dat homme."

I laughed, surprisingly good naturedly. "That's Alex for you. Always was a picky eater."

Remy's look became devious. "Oui. But he ate every bite, like a good little boy."

I looked away as my ire rose, biting back the retort. Was Remy trying to push my buttons? Did he want to hit me again? Or was he just testing me, seeing if I would push back?

"M'chef is excellent." He continued, his tone once again friendly. "But I tol' him not to make de meal so spicy. I didn't t'ink your stomach would be able to take it."

My eyes shot up at him, surprised. He was concerned? I somehow found that hard to believe, even after all that had happened. I guess I just figured he'd use that empathetic power for his own agenda, to make me believe he cared, while in truth he was just being selfish. But now he'd consciously made decisions that would effect my comfort. I shook my head for a moment.
Did he really care about me? And could I use this for my advantage? I tucked this thought back in the corner of my mind for later examination.

"Crawfish boulette." Remy was saying. He held what looked to be a meatball in his hand, dripping with a light brown sauce. I could feel my mouth start to water as he popped it into his mouth. "No' to spicy." He said after he swallowed it down. Then he picked up another and held it front of me. My lips parted slightly as I looked at it like it was the answer to all my prayers. I
lusted for that morsel. Smiling, Remy touched it to my lips. "Cher?" I closed my eyes and opened my mouth wider. Like a priest bestowing communion, Remy placed it on my tongue, his fingers brushing across the tastebuds lightly to tease my senses, then he drew back to let me eat. My stomach rumbled appreciatively as I sank my teeth into the delicacy. It nearly melted under
the heat of my breath, it was that tender. And so very tasty. Salty with a sharp tang. I swallowed it quickly and then sat quiet, suddenly afraid that I'd eaten it too fast. I waited, nervous that my stomach would give. But it only rolled a little and no waves of nausea crashed over me.

Then a sharp pang of hunger hit me and I looked up at Remy, my eyes beseeching him. It was all I could do not to beg for more. He was still smiling. "Good?"

"Yeah." I breathed. "Give my compliments to your chef." He snorted with laughter and picked up another boulette. His fingers cupped the sauce as he lifted the tidbit and he held his other hand under it to collect the sauce that dripped from it. This time, when he placed the morsel on my tongue, he kept his fingers between my lips, running them over my teeth and gums as I
chewed. When I had swallowed, he said, "Try de sauce. C'est bon."

Somewhat reluctantly I let his fingers slip in between my teeth and licked at the juice. But one taste was all I needed before I was sucking pleasantly on the proferred flesh. After I'd finished, he placed his other hand over my mouth and let the juice it held drip down onto my tongue. And again I reached up to lick his hand clean. As I finished and Remy's hand moved back up to the table, Alex's words came back to me from a week ago, *You'll be eating out of his hand by the end of the week.* I grimaced at the thought. Damn him. Him and Alex.

A rich creamy smell assaulted my nose and I blinked from my anger to see a spoon being held in front of me. "Oyster and artichoke soup, mon ami. One of m'favorites. Served in de finest resturants in New Orleans." My ire vanished under the scent and I sipped from the spoon then slurped it down. A tiny dribble ran down my chin, but before I could wipe it off, Remy was there, kissing it away and sending my blood straight down to my groin. Sensing the arousal, he let his lips move up and over mine. His tongue slipped in almost without my knowledge until I felt him tasting the thick broth in my mouth. I suckled his tongue and hummed delightfully as the tangy flavor of the meatball he'd eaten mixed with the rich soup, bursting on my tastebuds.

Remy pulled away without warning causing my teeth to knock. He sat up looking at me, his expression unreadable. I almost groaned at the abrupt departure. Then he shook his head, "Non." He said this mostly to himself, His face softening as he gazed at me. "Do dat again and I'll take you right here, mon amour." Exhaling with a slight tremor to his voice he added, "You wouldn't want dis food to go to waste now, would you?"

I shook my head slowly and he nodded. Then he turned back to the table and reached for the bottle of wine. "Gaja Boralo Sperss." Remy seemed to want to tell me exactly what he was feeding me. Perhaps to impress, though I wouldn't have really known the expense of the food. "De word Sperss means 'profound longing'. I find dat moving for some reason. And de wine itself is fantastique. Got dis bottle jus' for you, cher. Very rare."

I smiled up at him then and said, "Only one bottle?"

Remy caught my meaning and smiled back, enjoying the joke. "I'm not taking de chance of you getting drunk, hein. I know your head for alcohol. You don' 'ave one."

This was true. I never drank much. Not even wine. Consquently, whenever I did have alcohol it didn't take long for me to get drunk. It was a standing joke at every Christmas to try and keep me from the eggnog, a minor weakness of mine. I'd usually have two or three glasses and then get all sentimental. Made most of the other X-men uncomfortable. Especially Logan, because it was usually him I cornered in my tipsy state, asking him why we couldn't just get along and why he was so angry all the time and didn't he think Jean was just gorgeous tonight. Fortunately for me, he took it in stride until Jean came to the rescue by dragging me away, chiding me for drinking more than I should. And then I'd wake up the next morning with a raging hangover and so embarassed I'd just hide in my room until Jean dragged me out. All from just a few drinks.

"And I'm not gonna let you miss a minute of dis night." Remy was saying with mischievious grin. I glowered at him, making him chuckle. "Can't get out of it dat easy, cher."

He popped the cork and poured a cup, setting it to my lips. "Jus' a sip, petit." But before he could react I grabbed his hands and gulped the liquid down. It burned as it hit my throat, but I didn't care. Numb would be good. A hangover would be fantastic, if I just didn't have to feel him fuck me, knowing, though trying hard not to admit, that I was more than likely going
to enjoy it.

Remy pulled the goblet roughly from my mouth with a snarl. "I tol' you non!" Drops of wine splashed across my chest and his legs, before he steadied the cup. He slammed it down on the table, causing more to splash over the surface, dripping to the floor. Without thinking I lapped at the fluid as it ran down. But then he pushed me back and lifted his hand as if to strike me.
I flinched, gritting my teeth, and waited for the blow. It didn't come. And he was laughing. I scowled at him. His face came down, inches from mine. "You don' know how silly you looked just then. And now wit' de wine drops all over your face. Not de fearless leader we all know an' love." I blushed in anger as he kissed away the droplets, letting the tip of his tongue run across my cheeks, then eyes, then nose.

I turned my head away, irritated. "Stop it."

"Oh. Not so eager for me as for de wine, eh?" Remy sat back with a smirk. "You stickin' to water now." He added in a mildly dangerous tone. I just looked at him. Drunk would have been wonderful, but water would certainly be more quenching. I wouldn't argue.

Taking a napkin from the table, Remy wiped the rest of the wine up from his legs and the surface of the table. Then he threw it at me. "Wipe dat off your chest." He muttered a Cajun curse as he sat back up and poured a glass of water.

He was annoyed now. I couldn't be completely certain, but I had my suspicions that the irritation came from the idea that I would rather be drunk when we fucked. After the scene in the bathroom, the way he'd made me feel, I suppose he thought I was eager for it, willing. Now he knew that I wasn't and it grated on his ego. He wouldn't say much now. Just told me what we were eating and fed me bit by bit, not seeming to take as much pleasure from it as he had from the start.

Despite his mood and his constant spooning of food into my mouth, I relished the meal. After we'd finished the soup, he fed me several more of the meatballs. Only once did he let his fingers linger in between my lips, and only for a moment. We ate Boudin blanc, a hot spicy pork dish, and okra and tomatoes for the main course. Remy ate most of the Boudin, his favorite. I
almost had to ask him for a bite, he seemed to want it all for himself. And when I touched his thigh he nearly jumped. When he looked down at me his mood seemed to lighten just a little. But realizing what I wanted his eyes went cold again. However, he gave me some more of the delicious entree, so I didn't care much that he was still vexed by my subtle resistance. If he was mad because I wasn't going to fall madly into his arms and declare him my life and my master, it was his own damn fault for trying to keep me as a slave. As long as he fed me, I could care less how he felt. I almost laughed at the idea that I'd hurt his feelings.

After the main course, he served me gateau sirop, a type of cake with cane syrup that tasted mostly of ginger. As a compliment to the spicy pork and salty vegetables it was absolute heaven. And I said so. Remy chuckled and gave me more. By this time my legs had become numb from sitting for so long on my knees, and seeing him in a more tolerant mood I asked if I could shift
positions. He waved his hand at me as he dug into the dessert, enjoying it immensely himself. I moved to straighten my legs out to the side, working out the pins and needles with my fingers. Looking down, I realized the cock ring wasn't on. I don't know why that struck me funny. Perhaps because it had been my constant companion for the entire week. But I looked back up at Remy with a spark of gratitude. Noticing my stare, he glanced down at me. Then he looked closer, not really certain what he was seeing. Crooking a finger under my chin, he lifted it to get a better look. As I parted my lips unconsciously he dove in to capture them, taking me passionately and with a bruising force. My head swam at the emotions. Remy had felt my gratitude and he'd warmed to it. That need for some kind of positive feeling from me was strong.

There was a knock at the door.