~He ain’t givin’ in!~ the thought rang in Remy’s head, as he balled on the couch in the small dark room where he escaped from the sight. When his charm power almost did the trick, he was so close, ever so close, and those hands on his skin – he doubted he could find something to compare with them. Yet, the man pulled away, gasping for air, those pupils of his predatory eyes dilated as if he was on a hunt, those hands still tight on his shoulders, his lips swollen from the kiss…

Yet he pulled away. Pushed him away, got up and looked at him, waiting. At that moment Remy understood his charm had gotten him nowhere. The man had his head clear, and was waiting for whatever was to come. Remy knew what was to come – his desperation. He exited the room, yet the stiffness in his lower abdomen grew with every step he made. When he reached his room, he was thankful to catch a young female servant there, so she’d take care of his need.

Take care of the need, yes. Nothing more. She couldn’t satisfy the inner lust, could only suck him off. He slowly grew to the thought it was only the dark-haired man in his room that could bring him peace. But he refused to.

When Remy was told the man nearly committed suicide, it took nearly a minute to fully sink into his mind. And the world twisted. He suddenly realized, that it wasn’t about breaking the man down, that he could simply loose him… forever… the bare thought sent shiver running down his spine. Not realizing what he was doing, he ordered to place Logan into his own room, and when the captain of guards – one of his best friends in this castle – assumed that the captive perhaps won’t feel easy with Remy in the same room with him, so perhaps it’d be better if the slave lives in another quarters (Remy was clearly aware what the captain was thinking of – that no slave is good enough to live with his Master), LeBeau immediately moved into another room himself.

The slaves were ordered to treat Wolverine as best as it was actually possible, and captain himself was ordered to look after the precious slave and make sure there was no discomfort for him.

Remy was scared shitless. ~What if I loose him?~ the thought ran in his head over and over again. Sometimes it happened for him to think ~Why this man? Why now?~

Why this man? Because he’s the most volatile and gorgeous being Remy had ever seen. Independent at any cost. From the first day on the slave market he had bought him because of this. Those eyes – predatory stare of an animal ready to break free.

Why now? He didn’t know. Maybe because he was scared. Maybe not. Maybe because it became suddenly clear the former gladiator won’t please him like those boys he was getting used to. That he’d sooner die then go over and over again in the full circle.

Maybe because he saw his resistance was deeper than just the mask. He was full of it, it laced him through like his veins, ripping out of every cell. He tried to break him by sheer force… and now, yes, he felt something with a hint of shame. Shame for his deeds, for trying to make this man something he was never supposed to be.

Yet still, he craved to feel those hands on him, those lips on his ones, to brush those nipples and feel them hardening under the touch… And he came to him the next day, obedient and sorry, ready to take whatever Logan had for him. He knew he’d probably want to kill him, and he almost felt like allowing it. Whatever he wants: and if he wants nothing, he’d help him like a servant.

That was weird pleasure, to serve someone as powerful as Wolverine. Strange – he never acknowledged this side of him, never even thought of its existence. To give someone a shade of control – yes it was there, he got off in making slaved believe they were close to escape and stopping them the last moment. He was usually so aroused by this time he made love to them right on the floor, drinking in their desperation…

There was nothing like this now. No playing around, but true control. To give himself to the mercy of the man, to do whatever he says to. To bow to his strength and volatility.

He was ready for everything – except for the one. For him turning away. In the bathroom, washing his hair, his marvelous hair, rich and rough as he was himself, intended to show him he was sorry, he was giving him the upper hand… and he just turned away. LeBeau wished he’d better roar at him, maybe even kick him, at least step away and tell him to go to hell.

But he didn’t. Just tensed and froze on the spot, motionless as if carved from stone. That was hurting. Remy wanted to apologize, he didn’t want it that way. The desperate state he was in, he could really try to apologize out loud– and he was stopped there too. Gritted teeth, barely contained growl (~God, I wish y’ didn’ hold it back, Logan!~) and those fiery eyes silently telling him to shut up.

Remy was ready to do anything he wished, and would be glad to – yet the only thing Logan wished at the moment was for him to leave him alone. Just to be left alone – and he didn’t need all the luxury around. In the damp cell he’d have been happier if he only knew LeBeau will never come for him.

That hurt, so much in fact he wanted to wail. He barely held the tears back, yet once in the room, they were unleashed, rolling down his cheeks, dripping onto the floor. ~Dat’s y’r fault, fuckin’ bastard!~ he sobbed to himself. ~Y’r fault y’ tried to conquer him dat way, y’r fault y’ happened t’ like him!~

Series of sobs rocked his body, as he shifted on the couch into even tighter ball, closing his eyes.

“Y’ll never make it up for him, Rems” he whispered into the darkness.

* * *

Logan was standing by the window, when the door opened. He spun around in a manner of true predator to see a huge dark-haired man come into the room. His hair was tie into hundreds of ticktales, startling yellow eyes shone on the dark face.

For several seconds they eyed each other intently, like two wolfs, then the man spoke.

“I’m the captain of guards, slave.”

The bare statement said more than some people could say in a whole speech. The firm voice, and the phrase started with “I” showed just how high he placed himself, and the word “slave” was meant to put Logan on his place. It didn’t.

“So?”

Cocky question, Logan tittled his head to the side, rising the chin in darkly independent way.

“You disappointed your master, slave. And you know that.”

The whole posture of Logan said ‘I don’ give a damn’. The captain stood silent for a moment, then threw out his hand to slap Logan. Wolverine stepped back just in time to dodge the blow, making the captain growl in rage.

“You’ll accept him this night, see? Or I’ll show you your true place, whore.”

Logan’s eyes glowed like two frames at night – with rage and disgust to be reminded who he was after all, just a sex-slave here.

~We’ll see~ his eyes spoke, yet the captain decided that was enough of a threat, so he turned around and left the room.

When the door closed behind his back, Logan growled and punched a fist into the nearest wall. That’s what it was about – they just came from the other side, just the way he expected. Suddenly he felt so disgusted in himself, as if the captain had raped him in front of his best friends. How shameful, how hateful… yuck!

~We’ll see who’ll be the last one to laugh~ he hissed.