White Sheets - 15. The Women on Top

"You look like shit."

Remy sighed. "Thanks, Cain, good morning to you too." Rubbing his eyes, he stepped fully into the kitchen.

Cain grinned wryly, but then paused, one hand on the fridge door. "Did I see that right yesterday, you went talking with Marc?"

Nodding, Remy leaned against the kitchen island and watched Cain's grin disappear. "Tough stuff."

"The shadows of the past?"

He nodded again, and Cain sighed.

"People always claim you can leave the past behind, like a bar of chocolate bounces out of the mold-"

"Bullshit." Remy muttered, though Cain hadn't even finished. "Anduin claims that too, but it's bullshit."

"My point." Cain nodded. "So... Marc is all of a sudden struggling with... old scars?"

That was a much better phrase and Remy sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. "Looks like it." He made a helpless gesture and shrugged. "I offered him my help, but to what extent he wants to be helped..."

"Mmhh..."

For a moment they looked at each other and suddenly Remy was glad to have someone like Cain as a friend. Observant enough to notice the little things. Direct yet empathetic enough to address things in a sensitive way.

"I don't think he would talk to you about it, but I think it would do him good to know he can count on you."

With a thin smile, Cain nodded. "I'll bring it up when I get a chance."

With perfect timing, Flavius and Anduin showed up, they ate breakfast in comfortable silence, and then prepared breakfast for the women. While Anduin and Flavius cleaned up in the dining room, Remy helped Cain with the lunch boxes.

"I don't have a problem with Marc laying low for a bit, but I'm not sure how healthy it is to keep skipping meals," Cain then muttered, as there was still no sign of life from Marc.

Remy shrugged and grabbed three lunch boxes. "It's probably not healthy, but at least he's opened his mouth at all. Hey, Fla, take those two boxes, will you?"

Flavius, who had just entered, did as instructed and Remy hurried into the foyer where Mistress Therese and the girls were gathered.

Claire, Bella, and Sarah, who were now sharing a bathroom, were arguing about the clogged drain in the shower, and Joy shouted something to Remy about a thermos, but the dull sound of a drawer being pushed violently shut, as well as Mistress Therese's voice, drowned it all out.

"Where's Marc?"

Remy, who had to pay attention because an angry Claire snatched her lunchbox out of his hands, glanced at his obviously annoyed mistress, but Flavius was quicker:

"He wasn't at breakfast, mistress."

"Um, mistress, I might know where he is..." Remy cautiously interjected- Mistress Therese was rarely truly pissed off, and when she was, it was best to keep things low.

She gave him a somber look. "Then get him here!"

"Yes, Mistress!" Immediately he turned on his heel and as he hurried through the villa he wondered what Marc had done. Or- and this seemed more appropriate in the general situation- what he hadn't done. He almost ran past the room where they had talked yesterday, but when he opened the door, he breathed a sigh of relief: Marc was asleep on the couch, which was far too small for him.

"Marc!" He shook him by the shoulder. "Marc, hey..."

Unexpectedly and damn quickly, Marc grabbed Remy's wrist, who flinched in fright. "Remy?! What the fuck... what..."

"Marc!" Remy's heart pounded in his throat from the shock, and carefully he wrested his wrist from Marc, who let go as if he'd been burned. "Great Mother... Mistress Therese is looking for you and she looks pretty pissed."

The shock of waking up abruptly had only just disappeared when the expression on Marc's face, not yet fully awake, gave way to horror once again. "Mistress Therese... what... what time is it?"

"The girls are just leaving."

"Fuck... oh, damn..." Marc almost fell off the couch as he stood up, then literally ran away.

Remy hurried after him, watching his fruitless attempts to smooth out the crumpled clothes and fighting down his own uneasy feeling in his stomach; in turn, he braced himself to intervene placatingly.

"Marc! Where are my scarves?" Oh yes, Mistress Therese was pissed.

Remy stopped involuntarily in the background, watching his mistress' eyes sparkle and Marc's shoulders drop.

"I... I, um..." Marc sank to his knees, his head lowered. "I'm afraid I forgot them." he mumbled so quietly Remy feared Mistress Therese would make him repeat the words louder, humiliating him- if she was pissed off enough, that was well within the realm of possibility.

"Remy, get me my scarves from the bedroom," she said, however, dangerously calm.

"Yes, Mistress!" This time he really ran through the house. On the stairs, he met Anduin bringing a hamper of dirty laundry downstairs and giving him a critical look, but he ignored him. He yanked open the door to his mistresses' bedroom and a few steps further on repeated the process at the doors of the walk-in closet before pulling out a dozen or so scarves from the drawers where Mistress Therese's scarves and shawls were stored and- leaving all the doors open- hurried back downstairs.

Marc was still kneeling in the same position, Mistress Therese was tapping on her phone with curled lips.

"Mistress..." Remy was amazed at himself at how composed he sounded as he walked over to her and placed the scarves on the dresser for her to choose one.

"Marc, I expect to find my scarves in place when I get home. I will not tolerate excuses of any kind," she said with cool composure which gave Remy goosebumps, and pulled a pale pink silk scarf from the pile on the dresser- all the others sailed to the floor, but Remy took the precaution of not moving. "Otherwise, you should know that the subject is not yet closed."

"Yes, Mistress. No, Mistress." Marc muttered, hunching over in a hint of a bow. Remy cringed a little at the sight, but they both winced violently as Mistress Therese slammed the door behind her.

For a moment Remy stared at the door, then expelled the breath he had been holding and turned to Marc. "Come on..."

"Give me a minute, Remy..." Marc's reply was more a sigh than real words, but he raised his head and looked at Remy.

"You get five minutes and even more, but please stand up." Remy held out his hand in invitation and got a scowl.

"I said gimme a minute, what's so hard to understand about that?"

"Seeing you sitting there like a heap of misery almost hurts," Remy returned, unable to stop a frown from creeping onto his forehead. "Come with me to the kitchen and you'll get your minute."

"What do you want me in the kitchen for?" Marc sounded half dismissive, half defensive, and Remy's frown deepened.

"Breakfast. You've skipped enough meals lately." And when Marc opened his mouth in protest, he added: "Come on, how long is it going to take to take care of the damn scarves? Two hours? Three? So you can take five minutes before then."

With a growl, Marc stood up and ran his hand through his reddish brown hair, whose lack of golden shimmer clearly said it was in dire need of a wash. "It doesn't matter how long it takes. I forgot my duties."

"Yes, and Mistress Therese won't be back until tonight, so you may well take the time to have breakfast, which you should have had anyway." Remy pressed his lips together for a moment, then grabbed Marc by the sleeve and pulled him along.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Marc jerked away after two steps, and the anger sparkling in his eyes didn't help Remy's mood.

"We're worried about you, Marc, okay? And by we, I mean us slaves and the girls. I thought the conversation yesterday helped, but you're acting like a complete dick again."

"Words are rarely really helpful. Yes, it was good to talk, but-"

"Then pick up where you left off, Great Mother! If you keep this up, you'll incur Mistress Therese's wrath, and thoroughly so!" Remy braced his hands on his hips and met Marc's angry glare outwardly calm, while inwardly he wrestled with anger, frustration, and worry.

"Why do you even care?"

Remy almost shook his head- lashing out in return was rarely a good idea, but Marc probably didn't have a better one for the moment. "Marc," he began quietly, then, though it almost became a sigh, "I take care of this household, and you're a part of it. I don't care what you think of it, really, but I'm not going to sit motionless and watch you run to your doom. I offered you my help and if you don't want it that's your business, but then please don't act like an asshole and get your act together. We're expected to work as a team."

Marc gave an annoyed grunt, but before he could follow up with words, Anduin came around the corner, an almost gleeful smile on his lips.

"You can't save them all, Riri, certainly not the ones who don't want to be saved. And Marc obviously doesn't want that. Whereas, maybe the encounter with the whip will change his mind."

"Mistress Therese is hardly going to have me whipped because of a couple of scarves," Marc hissed, and Anduin's smile grew into a grin.

"Do you know?"

Oh, Great Mother, please don't, please no internal feud between Anduin and Marc!

"Anduin, please." Remy gave him a grim look. "Don't get involved in this. And you, Marc, don't give in to provocation, it won't help you either."

As Marc grimaced, Anduin leaned over and kissed Remy on the cheek. "I'm just trying to save you from stress and frustration, although your commitment is really sweet."

"Save your breath, Anduin." Remy pushed him aside. "You'd better mind your own business."

"Of course." With a sweet smile, Anduin sauntered away, and actually Remy expected some epilogue to come- either from Anduin himself or from Marc- but both remained silent. The fact that in Marc's face suddenly a bunch of emotions were fighting with each other, which Remy carefully chose not to define more precisely, didn't make it any better, though.

"How about your breakfast now?" he wanted to know, and this time he couldn't hold back the sigh, especially since Marc gritted his teeth and shrugged and nodded at the same time. "Great."

~
 

"Hey... Remy?"

At Marc's almost shy words, Remy turned to him and raised his brows. He had just finished with the sheets and his hands were calling loudly for a break. "Hmm?"

"I... put three of the scarves aside for you. There are makeup stains on them and I didn't want to risk doing it myself. Is that... okay?"

"Yeah, sure. But you should mention it to Mistress Therese before she yells at you," Remy returned coolly, pushing around a couple of the detergent bottles a little unnecessarily.

"Yeah, sure..." Marc nodded hastily and fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt. He hadn't apologized, but Remy was sure that would come.
Maybe in a few days.
Eventually.
Unless something else came up first. A solid argument with Anduin, for example.

"Alright, I need a quick break and a snack, and then I'll check on them." Remy nodded to Marc and then left the laundry room, wiggling his fingers to relax them- it didn't really help.

"Fla? Fla!" it sounded through the house as he stepped into the foyer. "Flavius!" It was followed by unintelligible grumbling that made him smile, but whatever Cain wanted-

The ringing of the garden gate bell demanded Remy's attention, and he hurried over to the front door. The intercoms were strategically placed around the house, but since a red light was flashing, he answered it. "Who is it?" The classic question could often be answered just by looking at the small screen, because a tiny camera hung next to the doorbell. And that very image showed a familiar face.

"Danica Sapphire. I need to speak to Ellen." As usual: slightly condescending and cool.

"Of course, miss." Remy replied politely, pressing the door opener. "I'll let her know." His first encounter with Danica had been thirteen years ago, but even though she and Mistress Ellen were friends and had joint projects, and she was accordingly here several times a year, she unintentionally reminded him every damn time of the night Amaya had died. He took a deep breath and then pressed another button on the intercom that dialed Mistress Ellen's studio.

She answered with a sigh. "What is it?"

"Mistress, Miss Sapphire is here and wants to speak with you."

"Does it have to be now of all times? Fine, bring her up." Mistress Ellen groaned sullenly, and Remy gave a quick grimace. He hoped very much that his mistresses' bad mood was not the result of a marital dispute, but he pushed the thought aside, put on a polite mask, and opened the door for Danica, indicating a bow.

"Good afternoon, Miss Sapphire. Mistress Ellen is expecting you in the studio."

"Thank you, Remy."

He almost choked on his spit when she called him by name and, moreover, gave him a nod. He still associated with her the condescending, almost disgusted statement 'I can do nothing with such slaves', and so far she had not strayed from her cool attitude towards the slaves during her visits - this touch of friendliness was new.

He led the way, glad she couldn't see his face. Change could be a positive thing, but at the moment it was happening in too many corners at once. Finally, he knocked briefly on the door to the studio and opened it when a muffled response came. He entered after Danica and bowed for form's sake.

"Mistress- Miss Sapphire. Is there anything I can do for you?"

With a curt gesture, Mistress Ellen told him to wait while she rose from the desk. "Danica, impromptu visits aren't usually your cup of tea. Besides- I'll see you next weekend. Did something happen?"

Remy closed the door and then took up a waiting position beside it, keeping his gaze half lowered but still watching as the women greeted each other with kisses on the cheeks.

"I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, Ellen, but I have a request," Danica said seriously.

"Please, have a seat." A little perturbed, Mistress Ellen pointed to the other chair. They sat down and Danica sighed before pulling out a folder from her briefcase.

"I have a favor to ask of you and Therese. I'm interested in a slave and I finally got a copy of his file"- she passed the same- "and admittedly I'm looking at some points with concern."

"Ah, so you want us to assess whether he should be considered problematic?"

"Right."

Remy found the file quite thick, but when Mistress Ellen thumbed through it like a flipbook, there was no baby-blue sheet of authority to be seen.

"How's John?" Mistress Ellen then asked, a little distracted, as she placed the file circuitously in front of her.

"Same as always." Danica shrugged, made a helpless gesture, and for a moment concern twitched across her face. "Well, he's having knee surgery in three weeks. I don't know how he's going to... I mean, training the teenagers is his everything right now." She sighed deeply and Mistress Ellen nodded, then opened the file.

"Great Mother, Danica... this is all censored!"

"I know." She sounded like she was speaking through clenched teeth.

Remy raised a brow- he'd already wondered why a prospective buyer would just come across a copy of a slave file.

Mistress Ellen measured the thickness of the file with her fingers. "How old is the slave?"

"Mid-twenties."

Mistress Ellen frowned, scrolled, read, scrolled, muttered.

Danica took a deep breath and leaned back, playing with the sapphire pendant on her necklace, then with the hem of her skirt. Back then, when they'd first met, Remy had admired her hair, long brown waves with a reddish sheen, but not long after that she'd cut it to finger length and probably dyed it now, because the brown was darker and cooler now, without the sheen, and it made her seem even colder and more distant.

"Coffee, Danica?" Mistress Ellen asked.

"Sure. Lots of milk, few sugar."

"Remy."

"Of course, Mistress." He nodded and went over to the small alcove where a plain coffee machine with capsules stood.

"Five mistresses in one year, four in another... my goodness..." Mistress Ellen muttered while the machine hissed and gurgled.

"It's hard to nail him down," Danica agreed with her. "I've been trying to get my hands on him for a year now."

"Defiant, but obedient." Mistress Ellen sighed, then laughed almost incredulously as Remy loaded the coffee cups onto a tray. "Insists on his piety. Danica, honestly, I- lashing out at pleasure slaves? Sorry, but what exactly did the young man put in your coffee?"

Remy served the coffee, Danica sighed- it sounded almost annoyed.

"I want him for John."

"For John?"

This time Danica growled outright and hastily Remy stepped back. "John is fifty-three and his health is already ruined. Despite the knee surgery, he won't be able to drive again and once we have grandchildren... well you can imagine. I want someone to stand by him."

"A slave for a slave. A young man who, from what I read here, can't hold his tongue and is too intelligent for his own good. Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious, Ellen. John knows about it. He's accepted it. Grudgingly, admittedly, but he's accepted it."

The women gave each other appraising looks and Remy wished he could leave.

"How are the girls doing?" Mistress Ellen finally changed the subject.

The conversation now turned for a while to Danica's daughters, then to Claire, and eventually Danica turned to leave; Remy was almost relieved.

"Remy, bring me up a smoothie, will you?"

"Of course, mistress." Nodding to her, he picked up the dirty coffee utensil and hurried out.

 

A while later, as he climbed back up the stairs with the clean dishes and a smoothie for Mistress Ellen, Keira surprisingly approached him.

"Hey, Remy." She grinned at him.

"What are you doing here already?" It was actually too early for the girls to be back from class yet.

"The change in the weather has directly knocked out two of my profs." Her grin widened. "I take it the smoothie isn't for me?"

"No, sorry." Her grin was infectious enough to elicit an honest smile from him. "But I'm sure there's some left, Cain's portions aren't small." He'd had a few sips himself, too, since the snack he'd planned had been off until now.

"Sounds good." She nodded and then stepped closer, her grin shrinking into a smile and looking up at him.

A tiny bit he felt ashamed that her change in demeanor worked- his pulse shot up and he felt warm- but, well, her innocent, flirtatious expression worked pretty well. And it certainly flattered him that she had so far turned down Cain and Flavius.

"Are you coming over tonight?" she wanted to know quietly, and sure enough, a little blush crept into her cheeks.

"What about your training?" he asked back, though he would have liked to just nod.

"Oh, I have enough energy..." She winked at him, blushing hard. Suddenly she didn't seem as confident as usual, but almost vulnerable- it was incredibly sweet.

"That almost sounds like I should be worried..." he said in jest, and she giggled sheepishly.

"Oh, no... But I think you should bring that up."

"Uh... yeah. Right." The twinkle in her eyes had him completely captivated for a moment, and he nodded hastily before continuing on his way.

Mistress Ellen was so lost in thought, however, that she made no comment on how long it had taken him. Her index finger tapped slowly on the open slave file, but she didn't look like she was reading.

"Mistress..." he said quietly and gently, placing the large smoothie glass next to her before putting the coffee set in its place.

"Thank you, Remy-darling." she murmured belatedly. "Danica was in a weird mood, don't you think?"

"Yes," he admitted bluntly, "she was." He turned back to her and caught her gaze. "She doesn't really strike me as the type of woman who would want a very particular slave, no matter what... hmm... baggage he brings."

Mistress Ellen snorted in amusement. "No, really." Then she reached for the glass with one hand and pointed to the file with the other. "I'm trying to find something that will give me a reason, but this young man just doesn't fit Danica at all. Or John."

To that, Remy had nothing more than a shrug. "The whims of the mega-rich?"

That elicited a chuckle from Mistress Ellen. "Yeah, maybe." Resolutely, she flipped the file closed. "Well, whatever Danica's thinking, we'll see what comes of it, won't we?"

He nodded. Seeing was perhaps not the right expression, but for now he would have been interested in Mistress Therese's opinion as far as this slave was concerned.

"Oh, and Remy, my dear, remember that Therese will need you tomorrow night."

"I'll remember, Mistress." He bowed and returned her smile.

"Good, good, I'll see you at dinner then."

~
 

The first thing Remy noticed were the small lanterns with real tea candles in them, which bathed Keira's room in a warm glow. It was only afterwards, when he had closed the door behind him, that he noticed the nervous expression on her face.

"Hi..." she said a little breathlessly.

"Hi." He smiled encouragingly at her, but her posture now seemed almost tense. For a planned tryst, that was rather a hindrance. Then another thought occurred to him and he tilted his head a little thoughtfully. "Am I... your first?"

"What?" Her eyes grew wide. "Oh, no. No, you're not. This"- she ran a hand through her long dark hair- "is just... awkward."

Reassured by her statement, he nodded and smiled again. "True enough. But you get used to it. You just have to push the awkward moment aside and... well, do what you planned to do." Simon and Tom and Max had provided him with advice back in his first days and weeks here at Harlaney House, and most of it had come in handy sooner or later.

"What you planned to do..." Now she returned his smile, but looked aside, blushing.

He took that as an opportunity to saunter a few steps further into the room with a raised brow. "Yes...?" Since she didn't answer directly, he remained standing in front of her, waiting, expectant; he kept surprising himself with the fact that he could so thoroughly put aside his own shyness when facing shy girls. And damn it, he liked the shy side of Keira worlds better than the confident one.

She looked up at him, the light making her dark eyes sparkle. A delicate scent of roses and mint rose from her, but couldn't completely mask the smell of cigarettes.

"What have you been up to?" he asked softly. Briefly he thought of Bella, how easy and relaxed it was with her, and how strange the very beginning had been with her, too, but he pushed the thought aside.

Keira lifted a hand, hesitantly, and placed it on his chest. "I... I'd like to kiss you."

He smiled as genuinely as he could and gently reached for her hips. "You're welcome to do that. Just one thing first..."

"Yes?" Confusion flashed across her face.

"Give me time. I need a while to... wake up." He twitched his eyebrow meaningfully, and puzzled, she nodded.

"Okay. Sure." And then she leaned against him, slowly lifting her chin and gently placing her other hand on his shoulder. "Kiss me." she whispered, looking so anxious and nearly desperate that he almost took a step back.

"Keira-" Her lips pressed to his and deliberately he closed his eyes, he could feel them both relaxing into the kiss.

And then there wasn't much of her nervousness left. She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled against him, allowing him to slide his hands down her back. Seconds later, her tongue flicked over his upper lip, coveting entrance- with subtle relief, he realized she tasted like toothpaste, not cigarettes.

Pleasant warmth spread through him and erupted repeatedly at the places where her fingertips touched his bare skin- when she gently caressed his face, stroked along his neck, took off his shirt. However, it was then more her rapt expression than her touch that made his breath hitch as she stroked his now bare chest.

"This is real, isn't it?"

"What?" he made a little dumbly.

She tugged on a hair. "Your chest hair. It's shaped like a heart..." She ran a finger down over the tip of the heart, past his belly button and along the fine line which disappeared under the waistband of his pants.

"Yes... yes, it's a gift of nature..." He smiled wryly and swallowed the rest of the thought as she hooked her fingers into the waistband and pulled him to her by the waist. "You wanted kisses..." he murmured, cupping her face and kissing her gently, because he wanted a few more of those, too.

As they undressed each other, kissed, touched, the thought lurked in the back of his mind that this was going too fast for a certain part of him. But he liked the pace, and it was bitter to know that pretty soon they would be forced to slow down considerably.

Finally, he lay on the bed, Keira half beside him, half on top of him, and let his hands roam over her body; her skin was soft, but there were firm muscles underneath. He wanted her, wanted to feel her so much more intensely, and the impatience and bitter anger at himself was strangely unfamiliar- it wasn't that Keira was rushing, she definitely wasn't, rather the opposite.

She kissed him, his jaw, his neck, his chest, played with his hair, snuggled against him, and eventually sighed.

"Hmm?" he made questioningly, letting his hand slide to his dick, which had made it to half-mast after all.

"You're beautiful..." she whispered, twirling a strand of his hair between her fingers.

"Am I?" he asked with a smile, rubbing his dick.

"Yes..." she breathed, running her fingertips over his face. Over the line that was slowly but surely forming on his forehead, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the strange double dimples at the corners of his mouth, over his chin, and then down his neck. "Oh, yes..." Her lips brushed his cheek.

He chuckled softly and half-choked on it as she kissed him hard. Under his hand resting on her back, he felt the muscles tense and then she straightened. If it had been possible, her intense gaze would have made him sink even deeper into the pillows, but as it was, he licked his lips, wishing his dick would finally get hard.

Her lips and tongue started their way at his earlobe and worked their way intensely but thoroughly over his body, sure to leave a hickey somewhere, maybe two. Even after she had already left his nipples alone, little sparks still danced over his body, and when she placed little sucking kisses on the insides of his thighs it elicited the first moan from him.

His dick actually seemed to be failing him.

Into that very frustrated thought, she plucked his hand away from there, pressed a kiss to his palm, and then licked over the tip of his dick. His breath hitched. For a moment he lay there stunned, trying to comprehend what she was doing there with her lips and tongue, but his brain was foggy. It felt so damn good and that was all that mattered, in fact he could feel his dick swelling in her mouth full out of excitement.

"Oh Great Mother..." he moaned quietly, struggling to keep still. Squinting down, he saw nothing but a curtain of dark hair, and with trembling fingers he ran through it, holding onto it as she sucked extra hard. "Oh damn..." Why didn't Bella ever do that?

With a wet sound, Keira eased away from him and nuzzled her cheek into his hand. "You like that?"

"Oh yeah..." he murmured breathlessly, pulling her to him to kiss her. He wanted to flip her over, but she seemed to sense that and pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

She made a soft sound of denial and then reached to the side to take the ready condom from the nightstand.

Briefly, the fear flashed through him that his dick might change its mind- it did happen- but her certain, if gentle, touches made it twitch enthusiastically instead. However, it wasn't just pure lust and excitement that shot through his veins as she sat on his lap, his dick pressed against her abdomen and his balls against her moist folds. He had been tied in this position a few too many times.

Her splayed hands slid up over his sides, gently pinching his left nipple, and then she kissed him briefly; he for his part let his hands slide over her thighs and waited.

"Okay?" she asked softly, letting her tongue flick against his lips.

"Okay..." he murmured back, gently squeezing her thighs.

She lifted her hips, grabbed his packed dick, and directed it into position- she was already gasping for air before the head had even properly entered.

His amused smile quickly faded, however, as she settled on him with swift swaying movements. An almost relieved moan escaped him and he squeezed her thighs again, but this time harder. Her muscles twitched and quivered as she began to move, and after a moment his eyes closed almost against his will. He enjoyed the feeling, the moment, and when she put her hands on his he intertwined their fingers, raised their hands and supported her. He angled her legs a little more and occasionally gave in to the urge to support her up and down with his own thrusts, but otherwise he let her do it. Most women wouldn't have it any other way.

As his own pleasure slowly approached orgasm, he could feel that she was much closer. Her hands and the muscles around his dick were trembling and twitching suspiciously.

"Remy..." she gasped, as if to confirm his thoughts. "Remy..."

"I'm here..." he replied tensely, resuming his own thrusts, eliciting a loud moan from her.

"Remy..." Her skin shimmered in the light and her mouth moved soundlessly until she sucked in a sharp breath and came.

Don't stop, he wanted to beg her, when her up-and-down stopped almost immediately, for the twitching and contracting around him alone wasn't enough; he was too close himself. A poorly suppressed frustrated whimper escaped his throat, involuntarily he thrust, even though he knew he could hurt her with it now.

But she slid off his lap and let go of his hands, pressing a kiss to his ribs with trembling lips, and then he watched, a little stunned, as she leaned over him and took him into her mouth, condom and all.

"K-Keira..." He gasped as she hummed in reply. "Oh, fuck..." As she hummed again, his hand jerked to her head and clutched her hair to make sure she didn't stop...

 

Only when his orgasmic high had subsided did his brain begin to work actively again.

Keira had snuggled up to his side and pulled the covers over them both, and when he blinked at her, she smiled teasingly. "I take it you enjoyed being with me."

"Oh yeah..." He felt himself blush, and a hand slid to his crotch- warm, soft, dry. "Very much." Had he actually been absolutely oblivious to the fact that she had cleaned him up? This was embarrassing. "I-"

"Shh." she went on, kissing his chest.

He took a moment to sort out his thoughts, then wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "Thank you."

"For what?" she wanted to know sleepily.

"For... for the ending. That was the first time as a receiver of... that kind of attention." he said carefully.

"Mhh... Really?"

"M-hm. Most women care exceedingly little for the completion of their slaves."

The arm she had wrapped around him squeezed him tightly. "You deserve it. Actually, all of you deserve it." She yawned into his side. "But hey... that's another topic."

With a hum, he agreed and stroked her hair. "Did you like it too?"

"What a question." Again she yawned. "Do you think I can buy you?"

That elicited a soft laugh from him. "Don't overdo it, Keira." But the words flattered him greatly, perhaps even more than they should.

She sighed and mumbled something he didn't understand, then rubbed his nose against him and sighed again.

"Sleep well..." he whispered to her and closed his eyes. Something tickled his mind, but the blissful languor shifted into heavy weariness. Briefly he thought of what the second night together might be like when the awkwardness was gone, and with an imagined buzz of passion he fell asleep.