As soon as we got to the room I stormed toward the bathroom. I wanted to break the gold chain around my waist and crush the red stone in my navel under my heel. But I couldn't afford the punishment I'd incur. It would hinder my escape. Especially if it involved being chained back to Remy's bed, or locked in the stocks. So I dropped them on the floor outside the shower stall, along with the leash to my collar and the ornamental cuffs.

I turned on the hot water until it was nearly scalding and scrubbed myself raw. I wanted to wash away any touch the slave girl had placed on my body. My skin became as red as a sunburn. I almost took the top layer of flesh off my cock from the force of my cleansing. Every inch of me tingled with stinging pain, but I relished it. I was clean. I stayed in the shower until the water turned ice cold. Alex would have to suffer, but I didn't really care at the moment.

Eventually, my shivering drove me from the shower. I toweled off quickly and stepped back into the bedroom. Alex was seated on the coffee table, not wanting to get oil on one of the couches. *Such a good little slave,* I thought sarcastically. A fire had been built. Looking up at me, he said nothing. He knew better than to speak to me. I dropped my chains and adornments onto the coffee table and watched his eyes widen in surprise. He probably expected me to destroy them.

After looking at him for a moment, sizing him up, wondering what he would do, I walked over to Remy's armoire and opened the doors.

"There's a guard outside," Alex said quietly.

I turned my head to glare back at him. Then I stalked to the bedroom door and flung it open. There wasn't just one guard, but three. And the farthest one from me held the control box to my collar. Remy wasn't taking any chances.

The guards swung around to face me, a threat in their every movement.

"Shut the door, slave," one of them ordered.

"What if I don't, you cowardly, shit-brained, wannabe warrior?" I asked with a sneer.

He snarled and made to lunge at me, but the guard next to him grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. "You know he's only trying to goad you, Emil."

"Emil?" I taunted. "Isn't that kind of a girlie name?"

"If you don't shut the door right now," the second man threatened, "Kar will activate your collar and then I'll shove my spear so far up your ass it'll come out your mouth."

I gave him a malicious grin. "Haven't got the balls to fuck me yourself?"

The one who'd spoken moved a lot faster than I'd given him credit for, shoving me back so hard I landed on my ass. Then the door slammed shut and I heard it lock. I could hear their angry mutterings outside. I got to my feet and gave into a moment of childish rage, pounding one fist against the door and hollering, "Motherfuckers!"

I whirled around, ready and willing to pick a fight with Alex, but he'd judiciously disappeared into the bathroom.

*Coward*, I thought, almost yelling the word out loud. Feeling out of control, unable to contain the fury inside me, I circled the room, pacing like a caged animal. I was waiting for Remy, who might not even return.

It seemed like hours had passed before Alex finally emerged from the bathroom. I'd been tempted to drag him out of there earlier, just to see what he'd do, but I'd pushed the compulsion back, knowing I'd only regret it later. When I saw him move toward the bed I intercepted him, grabbing him by the shoulders and leaning menacingly into his personal space.

"What are you going to do, Alex?" I asked. "You going to let him breed you like cattle?"

He closed his eyes with a sigh. Then pushed my hands away. "It won't come to that," he said. "Remy's not going to send us to Escalada."

My lip curled up. "Because he *loves* you?" I asked, my voice laced with sarcasm. "Get real. He'll do whatever he damn well pleases. And if you haven't figured it out by now, HE DOESN'T LOVE YOU!" The last part of the sentence I hollered at him, annunciating every word.

"I know," Alex told me softly. "I'm not stupid, Scott."

"Could have fooled me," I said, bitterly satisfied when I saw his face grow dark. I was ready for a fight. It never came. My hot-tempered brother crumpled before me for a moment, before his face grew cold and stony.

"I'm not going to fight you, Scott," he said. "You can try all you like. You can even hit me if you really feel like you need to. But I won't hit you back."

"You fucking coward," I spat. "You dumb fucking coward."

He ignored me and climbed into the bed. I looked at him for a long moment, clenching and unclenching my fists, tempted to take him up on his offer to beat him to a bloody pulp. But the rational side of my brain had finally taken over. I let out a breath and asked, "what makes you think he won't send us to Escalada?"

Alex had turned away from me. "I don't know. It just seems like the way Remy is acting, that he's trying to goad you."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Goad me into what?"

"I don't know. Trying to escape, maybe."

"But he's posted three guards at the door," I said. "He knows I couldn't get passed them."

Alex turned over to look at me. "I don't know what he's up to. If I did, maybe I'd tell you. But I don't. I've never been able to read him. Maybe he will send us to Escalada. It just doesn't feel like he will."

"If he does, I'll find a way to kill myself before I get bred. I won't be a stud for him or Escalada. I won't have my children raised to be sold into slavery!" I spat.

"It won't come to that," Alex said again. "And even if he did breed us at sometime, I just don't think he'd sell our kids into slavery. Look at Henry. Do you think someone who acts like he does around Henry could just let his slaves' kids be sold?"

"I don't know what the fuck to think anymore. Maybe he would if the price is right." I sneered.

"No," Alex replied, turning away from me again. "I may not be able to read him, but for some reason I feel sure he wouldn't do that."

I was quiet for a while, my thoughts in a whirl. I stood there watching Alex, wanting to say more, wanting to keep him talking, perhaps wanting to provoke him into fighting me. But he wouldn't. He'd said he wouldn't fight me and I believed there was nothing I could have said that would have changed his mind, that would have caused him to strike out at me. Finally I said, "You've really given up now."

"Not now," he answered. "I gave up a while ago, when I realized I couldn't escape. When Remy held the one thing most important to me against me."

"Who?" I asked. "Who is it? You owe me that."

He shook his head. "I don't owe you anything."

"Fine," I snapped. "Then at least tell me what's gotten into you? You use to be more of fighter. Now you're acting like some lovesick fool. Do you really love him?"

Alex grew quiet for a long, long time. But just as I was about to pull him out of the bed and shake the answer out of him, he said, "Maybe. I feel something. Need. Maybe I just need him. Need this." He waved his arm vaguely.

"It's sick," I spat the words like poison from my mouth.

"You think I don't know that!" He roared, turning over to glare at me. Then he grew quiet again and said, "Rationally, logically, I know it's wrong. But emotionally I can't stop how I feel. I'll do anything...*anything*, to have him touch me with some tenderness, no matter how small."

"Even sell out your own brother?" It had to be asked.

He wouldn't answer, so I repeated the question stepping toward the bed with my hands balled into fists. Still he wouldn't say anything, just kept his eyes on the bed. I asked him again. And then I started throwing more and more questions at him: Would he sell out the X-men? His father? Lorna? All for an ounce of Remy's love? I began to rage at him, coming so close to using my fists that I had to pull back across the room, gain some distance to keep from hurting him physically. Though I wasn't against lashing out at him verbally. But eventually he wore me down with his silence. With his refusal to even look at me. It was like ranting at a stone wall.

"You're pathetic," I finally said, unable to keep the weariness out of my voice. "I can understand now why you always felt you couldn't live up to me. Because you can't. Maybe I shouldn't come back for you."

Then Alex said, so softly I almost didn't hear, "Maybe you shouldn't." He'd turned away from me again.

I was on him in a flash, my fury renewed. I yanked him on to his back and straddled his chest, bending over him so that my face was only inches from him. He kept his eyes shut.

"Look at me!" I bit out through clenched teeth.

He shook his head.

"God dammit! Open your fucking eyes, slave!" And I slapped him hard across the face. His eyes popped open. But there was no anger. Only resignation. This was how he expected to be treated. It pissed me off to no end, so I slapped him again and again.

"You shit!" I hollered. "You little piece of worthless shit! You fucking slave!" I slapped him again, this time hoping for something other than resignation from him. "You told me not to make you choose. Well, I won't! I'm coming back for you! And I'll drag you out of here by your balls if I have to. And you know why?!" I dug my fingers into his chin to make certain he was looking at me. He didn't answer, so I told him. "Because you're my dip-shit cowardly brother and I love you and I am NOT leaving you here like you left me at the orphanage!"

I glared at him, but inside I was stunned at my own words. *Where the hell had that come from?* And still Alex said nothing. But at least there were tears in his eyes.

I pushed off him, my cock hard and needing. But this wasn't about sex. And I wasn't going to rape my brother, no matter how much I wanted to pound into him over and over until he came to his senses. I know Alex would have let me fuck him, even in the furious state I was in, but it would still be rape and I'd still regret it later on.

So I went back to pacing the room, back and forth, circling the couches, like a restless hunter with no prey in sight. Several times I went to the door, tempted to fling it open. But then I remembered that it had been locked. Once in a while, in a rush of anger, I'd slammed my fist against the door. When there was no response, I'd start to pace again, waiting for Remy, preparing for a confrontation. He never came.

As the grey morning light filtered through the window, I began to slow my restless pacing. By then I knew Remy wasn't coming home. My anger began to dissipate and eventually I gave into my emotional fatigue. I crawled into bed beside Alex and pulled him into my arms. He'd fallen asleep hours ago, and woke with a start as I grabbed him, none to gently. He tried to jerk away. But I'd be damned if I'd let him. I would have the comfort of holding him, if nothing else. He quieted a few minutes later and I kissed the back of his neck where it met his shoulder, satisfied to feel him shudder. There was still this attraction between us, this need. Anger and hurtful, hate-filled words weren't enough to drive it away.

Drowsy and warm from the heat of his body, I grazed the length of him with my hand, from shoulder to hip and back. Lazy strokes, smiling as he squirmed, until finally I cupped his balls possessively like Remy, like his master. For several minutes I rolled the loose silky skin between my fingers, almost laughing as he forced back a moan and stiffened. Then I gave him one slow stroke down the length of his semi-erect shaft until I reached the root. And grasping as much of his cock and balls tightly, I stilled him against my body. Soon after I fell asleep like that with a final whispered, "good boy," in his ear, as he remained quiet in my arms.