Remy stayed away for two days. Alex and I went on with our daily routine. I had my guitar and voice lessons. Then Alex and I would meet at the gym for our daily workout. It had grown too cold to go out into the garden, and it didn't look as though it was going to let up. So I practiced in the bedroom in the afternoon for a few hours. It wasn't nearly as pleasant as the secluded garden had been. But I'd have to make due. Remy wasn't going to let me put on clothes to go outside.

As night fell on the second day, Remy returned with two guards. This struck me as odd. He hadn't posted guards outside his bedroom in months. That was how sure he was that we wouldn't go where we weren't allowed. That we wouldn't go looking for the portal room. But I soon realized the guards weren't here to stand watch at the door when Remy asked me where my brother was.

"In the workshop," I answered cautiously.

Remy gave me a searching look and caressed my cheek. "Been practicing more, mon couer?"

"Yes."

"Bein." He smiled kindly. "You've been getting good. I won't need you tonight."

I was stunned by his words, not only by the rapid change in topic, but also by the content. He wouldn't need us? I couldn't quite understand what he meant. But all he said by way of explanation was that the two guards were here to escort my brother and I to the slave quarters. We were to remain there until he summoned us. I felt a pang of fear and a wash of jealousy. Was he breaking in a new slave? A new favorite? After all his professions of lust and need, were we no longer interesting enough to keep his attention? I dropped my head trying to hide my scowl, but there was no need has he had turned away to give instructions to the guards to stop by the workshop and pick up Alex. Then Remy began to undress and head for the bathroom. As he placed a hand on the doorknob, he paused and looked back at me.

"If you and your brot'er want to take pleasure in each ot'er, I give m'permission." I felt as if a door had been slammed in my face. Before I could reply, Remy had gone into the bathroom.

I followed the guards when they motioned for me to come along with them, carrying the guitar. I had no idea when Remy would call us back, so I decided I'd at least get some practice in. I wondered if the lessons would stop. I was due for one in the morning.

The arrival of myself and the guards surprised Alex as much as Remy coming to the room with them had surprised me. "We have orders to escort you to the slave quarters. You're to remain there until Lord Lebeau sends for you."

Alex scowled. "What about the gym? Or my workshop?"

The guard was brusque in his answer as if Alex wasn't worth the time for an explanation. "You are to remain in the slave quarters. Now come on."

Alex set down his tools with a sigh and removed his protective apron, hanging it on hook near the door as he fell into step behind the guards next to me. I looked at him with a sense of dread. "What do you think?"

"Quiet slaves!" One of the guards ordered.

Alex grit his teeth as I glared at our escorts. They didn't even bother to turn around. Arriving at the door to the slave quarters, we were ushered in roughly and the door slammed soundly at our backs. The hall before us was empty. No one was there to greet us and I wondered, *what now?*

I looked at my brother as he gazed down the corridor for a moment, his expression tense and withdrawn. Then he said, "Come on."

He led me to the second floor where his small Spartan room was. "What do you think?" I asked again as I walked along beside him.

Alex shook his head. "I don't know. He must be entertaining or..."

He paused in mid-sentence. But I knew his thoughts were echoing my own. "Or we're no longer his favorites," I finished for him.

My brother gave a curt nod. "Well, we've been up there a long time. Five months I think."

I drew in a breath. "Five months? How do you know?"

"I don't," Alex replied. "I'm approximating. The time difference could be significant. It feels like a 24 hour day. But without seeing a clock I can't be sure." I nodded. He continued, "Regardless, we've been up there a long time. Most of his favorites only last five weeks or so."

We said nothing more until we reached Alex's room. Then he told me he had something he needed to do. I could stay here or mingle with the other slaves in the common room. I opted to stay where I was.

"When will you be back?" I tried to sound casual. But Alex avoided my eyes, certainly hearing the accusation in my tone. He was leaving to go to his own favorite.

"Later," he said. But I knew I wouldn't see him again that night. I might not see him for the next few days. *Well, fuck him,* I thought viciously and let him go without another word, seething in my anger and sense of betrayal. I picked up the guitar after he'd slunk away, guilt in every movement. Strumming some chords absently I tried to rein in my bitterness. A minute later I set it down again, unable to concentrate. A little while later I picked it up again, thinking that some of the anger had abated. But then, in a fit of rage I flung the instrument across the room, satisfied to hear a loud crack of the wood as it struck the stone wall. The satisfaction was short-lived. I sunk down on the mattress, lying very still, curled up on my side. My thoughts were in a dangerous whirl. Escape was foremost in my mind. I had to escape now. Even if it meant leaving Alex behind. If he wanted to stay and protect some slave then fine, let him. I no longer felt obligated to protect him. I felt betrayed. Finally I fell into a fitful sleep. My dreams were tormenting, but when I woke I couldn't remember what they'd been about. My face was tear-streaked.

Alex returned shortly after I awoke. I couldn't say how long he'd been gone. And this irritated me more. I rolled away from him when I saw him look at the cracked guitar against the wall and then back at me. He looked tired, and sad. But I didn't care at the moment. I refused to speak to him, even when he sat down next to me and ran a hand over my hip. Not even bothering to tell him not to touch me.

"Scott..." He began after a few minutes. The plea in his voice was too much.

"Shut the fuck up, Alex!" I hissed.

"But..." He tried again.

"Tell it to your fucking favorite!" That shut him up. He let out a defeated breath and lay down with his back against mine. We lay like that for a long, long time saying nothing. I could tell he couldn't sleep either. Eventually the curiosity got the better of me.

"Who is it?" I whispered harshly. Alex was quiet for several minutes. Then he rolled over and wrapped an arm around my waist.

"No one special." He lied.

"Then why won't you tell me who it is?" I asked angrily.

"Because it doesn't matter. They're not important. I was just checking to see..." he paused momentarily, "that they were okay."

"They?" I asked, not missing the plural. "You've got a stable of your own down here?" I sneered.

Alex sighed, a little frustrated. Then he murmured in my ear, "Don't worry about it." His hand stroked my belly in circles, moving closer and closer to my traitorous cock. "I'm here now. I wasn't gone very long."

"Yeah right." I gave an audible sigh, certain he was lying. Something had happened. It was why he had seemed so sad. He must have fought with his favorite or favorites. Or maybe they'd denied him comfort because he'd been away for so long. But I was in a turmoil. I could call him on it. Press the issue. I had no real advantage though. Nothing with which to make him answer me, except perhaps guilt...and my body. I let the matter drop. But I kept facing the wall and kept up my stony silence.

"I'm here," he whispered again. "I'm not going to abandon you." Without warning his hand cupped my hardening length and I bucked slightly.

He began to stroke me slowly, pulling me onto my back and leaning over to kiss me. I jerked my head away. "Don't!"

Ignoring my plea, knowing I was weakening under his talented fingers, Alex began to bite and suck at my neck. I balled my hands into fists, refusing to touch him, trying to deny him. But his hand on my prick, softly pulling and stroking, a finger running the length of a large vein on the underside, his lips trailing down to capture a nipple was too good. He was good. So very, very talented.

Suddenly he shifted, straddling my hips. My eyes flashed open as his hand stopped fisting me. He was stretched over me and to the side reaching for something in the bedside drawer. I almost threw him off, but he was quickly back above me, dragging his groin across my skin. I dropped my head onto the pillow with a quiet groan. It was good thing he didn't chuckle at that moment or show some smug sign of victory, because I was on that edge between violence and lust. One word and I would have struck out at him.

I shuddered violently as his mouth came down on my cock, dropping over the edge into lust. He took his time, sucking the purpling head and then lowering down to take in all the flesh. Over and over until I was close to climaxing. Then he would back off. Again and again he drew me close to the brink of orgasm. And each time he stopped until he was certain I wouldn't cum. And just as I was about to shout at him in frustration, he kneeled up over me and lowered himself down onto my straining erection.

"Shit! Alex!" I rasped. This was the first time he'd ever let me penetrate him. He'd always topped me. Remy had always wanted it, saying how much he liked to watch my face the first few minutes when Alex pierced me. I suffered the pain so well, he said. And somehow I didn't think Alex would ever have offered up his own ass.

Yet here he was lowering himself on me, squeezing his muscles tightly, just below the head of my cock. And I gulped in needed air, curling my fists into the sheets of the bed, trying to thrust up. I only got a few inches off the bed before he slid all the way down, engulfing me.

"Hold still," he told me and raised back up off my cock. And then he began to ride me, slamming over and over, gripping me firmly, then relaxing.

"Alex!" I cried, opening my eyes to see him arching away and throwing back his head. I took his erect penis in my hand and began to stroke him in time to the punishing rhythm he set. One, two, three strokes and he was cumming hard over my hand yelling my name. As he climaxed, his ass clamped down around my entire cock and I bucked up a final time, drenching him, feeling as if I were being sucked into him, a part of me left inside of him and thrilled that I was there.

Alex collapsed on my chest with his nose pressed into my neck. "Scott, Scott, Scott..." He chanted softly over and over until he whispered, "I'm sorry."

I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight. All my anger and betrayal drifting away in the afterglow. "It's okay. It's okay." We fell asleep like that, Alex in my arms, knees bent up along my hips, hugging to me like a child, like my baby brother.

Hours later we were awoken rudely by a leering guard. "Time to go back." He said gruffly.