Criminal Minds, X-Men Needs 3

_Same warnings as before! Need to read the first two before reading this one, I think_.

* * *

He hadn't planned on calling that number. Though Spencer still had that paper with Remy's number on it, he told himself he wasn't going to call. The shame left from his conversation with Derek had tainted the memories for him and he pushed his needs down far. He could go without, he told himself. He could do it. And while he felt sometimes like he was fraying at the edges, he fought it. All it took was one look at Derek in those moments when he caught his friend watching him and it helped to strengthen his resolve. He and Derek hadn't spoken of their conversation since that day. It sat between them, though, always there. Spencer knew it each time he came in and he saw Derek's eyes sweep over him, checking to see if there were any new marks, if he was walking sore, or if there was something else that might indicate that he'd given in. It was like when he'd come off the Dilaudid all over again. Like he was some junkie and Derek was watching him to make sure he didn't fall of the wagon.

That was actually a good analogy. The need for this built just like a craving inside of him. It grew stronger and stronger each day until he just couldn't hold back anymore. His friends were all noticing just how frayed he'd become. Short tempered, closed off, jumpy. He couldn't live like this.

Spencer held out for two and a half months before it grew too strong to ignore. While that might not seem like much to others, it felt like an eternity to him. He'd taken to carrying that little slip of paper around in his wallet with him. Sometimes just touching it, thinking of what he could get if he made that call, could be enough to stave off the need. But eventually it became too much. All it took was one phone call with his mother on one of her bad days to push him over that edge. He didn't give himself time to think when he hung up with her before he dialed the number he had memorized. It didn't matter that he was sitting huddled in the back of the jet with only an illusion of privacy.

There were only two rings before that voice that haunted his dreams came on the line. "_LeBeau_."

A soft shiver ran down Spencer's spine. For a second he couldn't find his voice. When he did, it came out softer than normal and just a bit hesitant. "Hello. R-Remy?" Damn his stutter. Damn his nerves!

"_Oui. De one an only._"

"I, um…it's me. Spencer." He kept the stutter out of his voice, but only just barely.

There was a brief moment of quiet and then Remy's voice came back, lower this time, and Spencer thought he sounded pleased. "_Well, well. Been wondering if y' was gonna call me, petit."_ He let out a husky laugh that gave Spencer another shiver. "_I'd ask how y'r doing, but if y'r calling me den I guess dat kinda makes de answer obvious, non?_"

Very true. Spencer nodded his head before remember that he was on a _phone_ and the man couldn't see him. So he forced the word out past a throat that felt tight. "Yes."

Once more the line went quiet. Spencer couldn't bring himself to fill it, to say what he needed to say. Especially not with the group that he knew was so close behind him. This had been such a stupid idea. He shouldn't have called, and he definitely shouldn't have called while on the jet. Spencer swore he could feel Derek's eyes boring into him and he tried to curl down a little more in his seat as if that would hide him. His shell was fractured right now, he knew, and the mask he wore each day wasn't holding up. Spencer was peeking out beyond the persona of Agent Reid.

Remy, bless his heart, seemed to understand that Spencer couldn't speak. He wouldn't know why, of course, but he seemed to understand that something was keeping him from talking and he broke the silence between them before it could get awkward. When he did, his question surprised Spencer, not at all what he'd expected the man to say. "_How far are y' from home, Spencer?"_

"Oh, um." He did a quick mental calculation. "Two hours."

"_Bien; I can be dere in four._" Remy's voice changed a little bit again and it held that note to it that had Spencer shivering. "_When y' get home, I want y' to take a shower and get y'rself clean, outside and in, y' hear? Den get dressed in comfortable clothes and head over to de same hotel we was at last time and check in under m' name. I'll make de reservation once we hang up. Y' understand?_"

None of that was really phrased as a request. And, God help him, Spencer knew he couldn't deny it. He would obey it to the letter. Just these simple commands with the promise of more was enough to take the tension in him and push it back just enough that he felt like he could breathe again. "Yes." He sighed out, not realizing just how much his voice and body reflected his relaxation. That relaxation stayed with him even after he'd hung up the phone. The promise of what was to come was enough to brace Spencer up and hold him together for the rest of the flight home. It stayed with him, too, as he went back to the Bureau with the team to wrap up their paperwork. He held on to the knowledge of what was going to happen and tried to use it to block out the guilty, slightly ashamed feeling that curled through his gut each time Derek looked his way.

He had hoped to get out of here before having to talk to his friend at all but he didn't have that much luck. Derek caught up with him just as he was leaving, slipping into the elevator to ride down with him. It was just the two of them in there and Spencer had to fight to keep from squirming a little under the intense look that Derek gave him. Not quite able to help himself, and feeling uncomfortable and defensive, he looked up through his bangs and asked "What?" in a voice that was just a little harsher than he'd meant it to be.

Derek didn't even bat an eye at his tone. He just kept staring right at him. "You're going out again, aren't you?"

Dammit, he really didn't want to do this. Color stained his cheeks. "That's none of your business." Deliberately he turned to look at the elevator doors. Silently he tried to will the elevator to move faster.

"I worry about you, Reid." Derek told him gently. "You're like family to me and I don't like seeing you hurt."

"Well, I do." Spencer answered sharply, blushing even harder.

The elevator doors finally opened and Spencer hurried out of them. He didn't even bother to hide the fact that he was trying to get away from Derek. He wanted out of there—_now_. Before one of them ended up saying something that they'd really regret. Derek was just looking out for him, he knew. He was trying to watch out for his friends and make sure he was okay. Having the man say that he was like family to him gave Spencer a nice, warm feeling inside. Yet at the same time, he felt angry and ashamed, a combination he didn't like. Derek had made it abundantly clear just how he felt about Spencer's proclivities. Spencer had been as nice as possible about it all, trying to stay away from this, trying not to give in to what he wanted, _needed_, making sure not to put it in Derek's face, either. Two and a half months he'd held out! All because of his best friend. Well, no more. He wasn't going to let Derek take this away from him! Let him think what he wanted. It didn't matter to him.

Spencer told himself that over and over as he made his way home. Maybe, if he said it often enough, he'd believe it.

Somehow he doubted that.

* * *

Most of those thoughts were pushed out of the way as Spencer went through the ritual of preparing himself. It was a little more exciting this time around, knowing that he wasn't going to go hunting, that he didn't have to go and _find_ someone. He didn't have to wonder what the person would be like. If they'd be short, tall, fat, thin, nice, edgy. He knew. He knew exactly who was going to be there and what he could expect. It surprised him that the knowing actually made the need stronger. Just thinking about what he was preparing himself for was enough to have him hard. Deliberately, he refrained from doing anything about it, though. No point in wasting it when something so much better than his own hand was waiting for him.

His excitement was such that stayed half hard through the cab ride to the hotel. Thank God for his coat being just long enough to help shelter him so he could hide it as he went to check in.

The reservation was waiting for him as Remy had promised. He had to wonder just how much Remy was paying for this room considering that Remy hadn't even checked in yet and the hotel didn't seem to have any problem with Spencer not only checking in for them, but they didn't even ask him for ID. That didn't seem all that secure. He could've been anyone! But judging by the way the desk clerk looked him over from head to toe before smiling at him and welcoming him, he must've been given some kind of description of who to expect.

He could only imagine what they were thinking of him. The desk attendant had looked extremely curious even if he had stayed professional. Spencer had seen the questions sitting on the man's lips. Spencer knew what this looked like. Two men, one of which was remaining nameless, checking in to a hotel room together—a suite, no less. Hotels in DC were no strangers to secretive assignations. This was probably a commonplace thing for them. Still, it didn't keep Spencer from blushing all the way up to the room.

It wasn't until Spencer was in the suite that he realized that he had no idea how long it would be until Remy was here, nor did he have any idea what he was going to do while he waited. The first part was solved easily enough. Remy had told him on the phone that it would take him four hours to get here. A look at the clock and a quick mental calculation told him he probably had about a half an hour, give or take. It was hard to figure out when he wasn't sure how Remy was getting here.

Just to be safe, he rounded to forty minutes. What was he going to do for forty minutes? He was still hard, despite his embarrassment downstairs, but he didn't really want to take care of it himself. His _need_ was crawling around underneath his skin just like any craving he'd ever had for the Dilaudid. It had him bouncing on his feet, pacing around the room, idly messing with random things here and there in an effort to try and keep calm. He sat down on the couch for about a minute before hopping up and pacing once more. He went to a chair and managed to sit for three whole minutes before he was back up.

Having time to wait only left him with time to think. Time to think about what was coming and how badly he wanted it. Time to think about Derek's words and the look on his face, and the way Spencer knew he'd look tomorrow. Time to think about his conversation with his mother.

That last one was the one that was haunting him the most and the one that had him needing to keep moving.

Conversations with his mother could be wonderful sometimes. She didn't always have bad days. Sometimes when he talked with her, he couldn't even tell that she was sick at all. Their conversation would just be normal. Recently, though, they'd switched one of her medications and her adjustment period wasn't going that well. Her paranoia seemed to have spiked to epic proportions and she was constantly convinced that there was someone trying to hunt Spencer down and kidnap him. He'd talked to her more times these past few days than he had in the past few months and each time he'd had to spend at least twenty minutes trying to reassure her that he was okay, that everything was okay, and then spend another ten trying to reassure her that she was safe where she was and no one at the hospital was trying to kill her. This time, he'd also had to speak with her doctor and discuss what to do about her meds.

Spencer didn't want to have to be the adult here. Sometimes he wished so badly he could shout at the people at Bennington and tell them to do their job and take care of her. It was their job now, not his. Why couldn't they calm her down? Why did he have to be the one to talk to her and convince her that she was safe and there were no monsters under her bed?

Frustrated, he spun on his heel, needing to go somewhere, do _something_. It was just his luck that he caught an end table when he turned and knocked it and the lamp down to the ground. He jumped at the crash and then gave in to a rare urge and cursed roundly at his mess. The lampshade had popped off and the base was broken into quite a few chunks. "Son of a bitch." He swore to himself as he got down onto his knees. "Way to go, Spencer. Real graceful. Idiot."

Just as he was gathering the last of the pieces into a little pile, he heard the click of the door unlocking somewhere behind him. Unlocking? But, it had only been twelve minutes. There was no way he should be here yet! Spencer's eyes went wide with surprise and he quickly turned his head to look over his shoulder in just enough time to watch as Remy came strolling into the room looking every inch as good as Spencer remembered him.

Remy found him almost instantly. That devilishly sexy grin of his stretched over his lips. "Well now, would y' look at dat." The Cajun purred as he let the door slip shut behind him. Without looking away from Spencer, he reached back and flipped the lock. Then he put his hands on his hips and, there was no other word for it, he _leered_ at Spencer. Who the hell knew a leer could look so attractive? "Got a gorgeous _homme _on his hands and knees, wit' one hell of a fine ass pointing my way. Hell of a greeting dere, petit."

_Jesus_. Just Remy's presence and the sound of his voice was enough to take Spencer from half to fully hard, his jeans suddenly way too tight. There was such promise in Remy's words. It was exactly what Spencer wanted, what he needed. So why the hell did he find himself scowling slightly and quickly straightening up. "I was just cleaning up. I didn't do it on purpose."

His little display of temper didn't seem to bother Remy. "Is dat so?" His lips twitched slightly with obviously repressed laughter. "Have an accident here, did y'?"

Why that spiked Spencer's temper even more, he didn't know, and he didn't really think about it. He was usually such a laid-back type of person. But he found himself glaring at Remy now, a man he'd been thrilled at the thought of seeing only five minutes ago, and snapping out "I didn't exactly throw it only the floor for fun."

One slender eyebrow arched overtop those annoying sunglasses. "Someone's feeling snippy t'night."

"I am not." Spencer argued. He knew, of course, that he was. He just couldn't seem to stop it.

Remy's smile changed, became more of a smirk. "Oh, I t'ink y' are." He took one step forward, smirk getting a little sharper when Spencer took a step back. He laughed when Spencer realized what he'd done and squared his shoulders, scowling. "Look at y', petit! Y'r just spoiling fo' a fight. So tough over dere." Remy took another step forward. "Y' got a lot of anger mixed in dere wit' everything. It's just rolling off y' in waves, mixing in wit' all dat lust. Y'r so mixed up inside dat y' can't sort not'ing out."

How the hell did he know? Spencer clenched his hands into fists and tried to straighten up a little. He had to work not to step back away from Remy. Something deep inside of him was responding to the very obvious physical threat the man was presenting. His presence seemed to be filling the room. Trying to ignore it, Spencer tucked his chin a little and glared. "I'm fine."

Warm, husky laughter sent a chill down Spencer's spine. "Dat y' are. Mighty fine, petit." Another step forward. With a shift of his shoulders, the trench coat slid down and Remy caught it and then tossed it to land on a chair. "All dat energy's just burning round inside y'. Y'r bout ready to burst at de seams." Another step forward and this time Spencer couldn't stop how he stepped back. Remy lifted one foot and pulled his boot off, tossing it to the side. "Y' can't figure out what y' want, can y', Spencer? Y' want me to take y', fast and hard, right here in de living room?" Another step, the next boot, and Spencer's panting slightly as he steps back. "C'mon, cher. I got plenty of ways we can put dat temper of y'rs to better use."

"Oh yeah?" Those two breathy words were all that Spencer could manage. Parts of him were warring around inside, different moods, different needs making themselves known. He wanted to strip and throw himself over the back of the couch so Remy could take him just as hard and just as fast as he was promising. But at the same time, there was a part of him, a darker part he didn't usually acknowledge, thrilled at the thought of a fight.

"Yeah." Slipping his shades up to the top of his head, Remy winked at him. "Why don't y' get on over here and let me show y'?"

For one split second, he contemplated saying no as a voice that sounded too much like Derek whispered in the back of his mind just how very wrong this was. Yet, looking at the man before him, feeling that little shiver on his skin as the hot gaze traveled over him, feeling the rush that came at actually being _wanted_, Spencer knew he wouldn't say no. _Whore that you are, you'll always say yes_. His mind taunted him. With practiced skill, he shoved that back and let himself just live in the moment. A corner of his mouth quirked and he issued his challenge with two simple words. "Make me."

He saw the heat flash over Remy's face and knew that his words had given the Cajun a thrill. Instinct had Spencer moving right as Remy did, saving him from the first jump of the other man. Spencer had no idea where the hell he was running to. His only plan had been _Run!_ He hadn't thought about how far he'd get or where he'd try to go, or about how much faster and stronger Remy was. He made it almost to the bedroom door before Remy got close enough that the tackle he launched took them both down. Spencer hit the ground with a solid thud and rolled, trying to scramble away, but Remy had rolled with him and was on him, arms and legs clinging. It turned into an all-out wrestling match that had them both panting and achingly hard. Spencer didn't make it easy, either. He fought hard to get free. He didn't want this to be easy. It wasn't really the chase that he'd wanted. It was the _fight_.

Remy had him half pinned at one point and used his leverage to get a hand down to Spencer's jeans and get them unhooked. It distracted him, though. With the right twist, Spencer broke free, lurching forward. Remy rose with him and Spencer knew, he could easily tell, that the other man was letting him get ahead so that they were closer to the bedroom. That was fine. It was where they both wanted to be.

This time Spencer got into the bedroom and was just turning to the right, towards the bed, when Remy caught him once more. He full body slammed into Spencer's back, knocking him into the wall. Though he still struggled, Spencer couldn't help but moan as Remy's body pressed against the back of him, full length, pinning him between Remy's heat and the coolness of the wall. When Spencer brought his hands up to try and push, to get free, Remy snagged them and pinned them above his head. With his free hand, he wrapped Spencer's hair in a fist and tugged, tipping the younger man's head back. "Y' like de chase just as much as y' like de end, don't y'?" He murmured huskily into Spencer's ear. "I caught y', petit, fair and square, and y'r mine now. Y'r gonna do _exactly_ what I tell y' to."

In response, Spencer pushed his hips back, grinding his ass against Remy's obvious erection at the same time as tugging on his wrists as if to break free. The fist in his hair tightened, adding the sharp edge of pleasurable pain to the mix. Then, in a move Spencer hadn't expected, his hands were released and his hips were grabbed and then, holy shit, Remy _threw him_ onto the bed. Spencer landed with a bounce. Chest heaving, eyes wide, he stared up at Remy and swore that his heart was pounding out of his chest. Remy's sunglasses were gone and his devil eyes were glowing hotly as they pinned Spencer in place. The low growl that Remy gave sent a dark thrill through Spencer's body. "Strip."

Never had Spencer stripped so fast. There was no sign of grace to it. He yanked his shirt off and threw it to the side. He got his jeans and boxers down to his ankles when another pair of hands was there, grabbing them and yanking. Caught up in his own stripping, Spencer hadn't noticed that Remy had stripped as well. But he sure as hell noticed now when that gorgeous body landed on top of him and pinned him into the bed and Spencer found his mouth being ravaged. Remy gave him no quarter this night. His kiss was harsh and bruising, teeth clacking together briefly before lips parted and that agile tongue was plundering his mouth, tasting every single inch of it.

The rest of Remy wasn't idle. His thighs were clenched over the outside of Spencer's, keeping his legs pinned together and held down, and rough hands were running over Spencer's body, nails scratching at his sides, fingers pinching and tugging at his nipples, and through it all his hips were grinding downward so that his and Spencer's cocks were rubbing against each other with each movement. It was a sensation overload that Spencer was powerless under. He could only clench at Remy's shoulders, his back, digging his nails in for purchase while the rest of him tried to lift and rock into the man's touch, shamelessly begging for more.

Their kiss broke and Remy brought his mouth down, sucking, biting kisses marking his path down to Spencer's nipple. The first feel of teeth on his nipple made Spencer gasp. The next, squeal. He didn't have time to feel ashamed of the sound. Remy was moving to the next, pausing to suck a bruise dead center in his chest. Spencer brought his hands to Remy's hair only to have them swatted away. He fisted them into the bedding instead and pressed his chest up against Remy's mouth. His next nipple was soon receiving the same treatment, sucked and bitten until it was a hard, painful nub, throbbing oh-so-wonderfully. Then Remy was moving down lower, across his stomach, tongue tracing his abs, and he paused to tongue-fuck at Spencer's bellybutton before going to Spencer's hips, a place they'd both enjoyed last time. Spencer hadn't realized how sensitive he was there until last time when Remy had marked his hips so prominently. The feel of teeth biting down, the hard suck that drew up his flesh to start the bruise, had Spencer's cock twitching and his body shuddering.

"Remy, Remy." It felt good, so good, but his body wanted so much more. He wanted everything, all at once. This and that and the other thing too. His hips thrust up in a blatant plea that only earned him a husky laugh. Remy lifted his mouth, but he didn't give Spencer what he wanted, he just moved to the other hip and started to mark him there. A sob tore past Spencer's lips. "Remy, _please_!"

"Ah, ah, petit. Patience." Remy murmured against his skin.

Another bite jolted Spencer like a shot of electricity and he threw his head back. The calm, proper doctor was gone and in his place was Spencer, who spoke with a fouler mouth than anyone would expect from him. "Fuck patience! God damn it, Remy, just fuck me!"

His words got him a reaction, just not what he'd thought. Remy moved so fast there was no way Spencer could've even braced for it. One second he was making his mark and the next he was straddling Spencer's hips, one firm hand against Spencer's throat pushing hard enough to cut off just a bit of his air, and glowing eyes were just inches away from Spencer's. "Y' watch y'r mouth." Remy snarled down at him. "I'll fuck y' when I'm good and ready fo' it and not a moment b'fore, y' hear?"

That blatant display of dominance melted away any fight on Spencer's part. All his temper turned to lust and his body melted underneath Remy's. He lifted his chin as best he could and bared his neck even more to Remy's touch in a submissive gesture he knew the man would see. Remy smirked down at him and his hold on Spencer's throat loosened and he rewarded Spencer's gesture with another of his molten kisses.

The next little while was a trust test of Spencer's control. Remy returned to mapping out every inch of him until Spencer swore that there was not a single inch that hadn't been touched or tasted—except for his cock. Remy had left that area completely alone no matter how much Spencer bucked or begged. He didn't make another demand, but he couldn't keep from begging, and Remy seemed to love it. Over and over he took Spencer to the edge and then would back off until going somewhere else and starting all over again.

He sat back at one point on his heels between Spencer's spread open legs and just stared at him like he was devouring him with his eyes. Bruises and bites were already standing out brightly on his skin. Remy reached out to trace one on his thigh and Spencer shivered.

"Y' really are a masochist, aint y'?" Remy murmured.

Something in Spencer found enough brain cells to actually form words and answer him. "I like the pain. The domination." He said in a shaky voice gone husky with want. "People treat me like I'm fragile."

Remy smirked and leaned in, stretching over Spencer until the younger man was forced flat, Remy fully stretched over him. "We're a damn good match den, petit. Cause y' know I like to be in charge. To take y' and make y' mine. Mark y'. Y' aint fragile, are y' Spencer? Y' can take it." His hand ghosted up, moving over the bruise on Spencer's throat and Spencer couldn't help but arch into the touch. "Y' like de bruises, don't y'? Like to see dat mark on y'r skin? See de reminder dat someone wanted y' dat much."

"_Yes_." Need echoed in that word. When Remy's hand squeezed, Spencer moaned. That hand held tight as Remy bent and claimed his mouth once more. Moaning into the kiss, his body hot and aching, Spencer writhed underneath him, shaking hands came up to claw at Remy's back.

Remy pulled back and his hand slid up the side of Spencer's face to lace in his hair. Then those fingers clenched down at the same time that Remy rolled his hips again and Spencer couldn't keep himself from moaning loudly. "Remy." He sobbed out. "Please. _Please_!"

He had no idea where Remy got the condom from. It must been in the bed somewhere, because the man didn't move away from him to get it. He bent down, kissing Spencer once more, lips hot and hard against each other and there was the sound of something tearing—the condom wrapper, his brain told him—followed by the sound of the lid for the lube and then, oh God, Remy was pressing against him and into him and Spencer moaned loudly into their kiss. The little preparation that Remy had done earlier, fingers slipping in to tease, hadn't opened him much. Remy was opening him this way, slowly pushing in bit by bit, Spencer's muscle giving way gradually. It burned and stung all at the same time and tears pricked at the corners of Spencer's eyes. He broke the kiss to tip his head back and gasp, little whimpers breaking free. But he didn't stop him. He tipped up, hooking one leg around Remy's waist for a better angle, and he gave a hoarse cry as the first ring was breeched with an almost audible _pop_.

"Dat's it, petit, open up fo' me." Remy leaned back, catching Spencer's legs and drawing them up so they were over his shoulders. The new angle let him slip in a little further and they both gasped this time.

It felt like it took forever before Remy bottomed out. Spencer was moaning almost constantly, his legs trembling, tears on his cheeks. Remy stroked the outside of his thigh soothingly and gentled him with those steady touches. The feel of his fingers, quickly becoming familiar, gave Spencer a focus, something to hold on to. He focused on the difference in the fingertips, the way the pinky and ring fingers were smooth while the other three carried callouses on them. Then, when they both had their breath, Remy pulled back and pushed in again, and Spencer forgot everything but the heat exploding in him, the burn that was painful land yet so damn pleasurable.

The pace started out steady and built, faster and faster, until Remy was slamming into him with hard thrusts, and Spencer was grateful he was flexible as his knees pushed towards his chest.

He was so close, so close, his body was on fire and his nerves were screaming and singing at him and it all felt so good and he felt so full and owned and just possessed in every inch of him and…a knocking from the main room seeped into Spencer's thoughts, dragging at the edges of his mind. Someone was knocking on the door.

Remy's hand jerked in his hair, bringing Spencer's attention fully back to him. "The door." Spencer gasped out. His words broke off on a sharp keen when Remy hit that place inside of him that had stars exploding behind his eyes. Remy growled at him, turning Spencer on even more. "Let em knock." He said huskily. "_Dieu_, Spencer."

"Don't stop." Spencer pleaded. "Don't stop, don't stop, oh, _oh ohoh_, don't stooopppp!" He was begging and he didn't know for what anymore. Couldn't even manage to think. All he knew, all he could focus on, was the pleasure that was building and building and his spine bowed when Remy's hand closed over him and pumped once, twice, throwing him over that final edge, ripping a scream from him that echoed around them while pleasure sharp and bright tore away at the very fabric of who he was and Spencer didn't even hear Remy's sounds of competition as the pleasure became too much and he sank down into the darkness.

* * *

He came back to himself in gradual increments. It didn't seem strange at all to Spencer to find himself lying in water. Maybe it would've been more worrisome if he hadn't been able to feel a solid weight behind him. This was a familiar feeling, though he'd only been here once before. He'd remembered it often enough that it didn't startle him now. He'd cherished his memory of the bath Remy had given him last time and had wondered if it was something the man would do again. Apparently so. As Spencer became more alert, he registered more around him. He _was_ in the bath, settled back between Remy's thighs just like last time, his head resting back on Remy's shoulder, and just like last time there was a washcloth running gently over him. A soft little happy purr slid from Spencer. He turned his head just enough that his nose was nuzzling at Remy's jawline. Spencer both felt and heard Remy's chuckle. It made him smile.

"Welcome back, cher." Remy murmured, kissing his temple.

Spencer lightly kissed Remy's jawline. "Mm."

That earned another chuckle. "Not all de way back yet, I see. Dat's fine. Y' just go on an relax. I got y' here."

"Mm." That sounded perfect. Spencer breathed out a small sigh and let himself just laze there in Remy's embrace until he was cleaned from head to toe and the water started to get cold.

Even then, Remy took care of everything in a way that left Spencer feeling cherished. He was carefully helped out of the tub and bundled up in soft towels and carried back out to the bed where he was laid down and Remy dried every inch of him. There was only a brief moment where they separated and then Remy was sliding into the bed with him and gathering Spencer close, drawing him in against his chest. Spencer went easily, not even minding the way his aches were starting to come to life from moving. One of Remy's hands was stroking through his hair and Spencer felt like a giant cat in that moment, wanting nothing more than to arch up into the touch and let out another of those little purrs.

Remy kissed his head again, soft and sweet, and murmured against his hair "Y' go on and sleep if y' want. I'll keep on holding y'. Aint no one gonna disturb us. Room service already stopped by; dey was de ones knocking earlier."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. I want y' here, cher, all night."

"I've got to work tomorrow." Spencer murmured against Remy's chest.

"Will y' come see me after?"

The question surprised him. The warmth he felt at the idea was enough to tell him his answer. "Yes."

"Good." Remy hummed happily and stroked his hand up Spencer's spine. "When y' get off, go on and grab some t'ings and den come back here. I'll order us up some dinner and y' and I can talk a bit."

Talk? That single word had Spencer tensing.

Remy felt his response and stroked over his back again. "Don't go panicking, it aint not'ing bad. Least, I don't t'ink so. It's just dat, if we're gonna do dis, den we're gonna do it safe, petit, an we're gonna do it right. We need to talk about what we want outta dis, what our limits are, all dose important t'ings. Really, we shouldn't have played like we did last night wit'out having dis talk first. We didn't even have a safe word fo' y'."

Spencer nodded sleepily. "Okay." That really was a smart plan. There was no way that Spencer could deny after this that he would end up calling Remy again. Of course he would. No one had ever made him feel this way. Not just the sex, which was fantastic, but this part as well. This aftercare that Remy seemed to feel was so important. The way he'd mentioned it last time had been so shocked that no one had done this for him before. Spencer still couldn't believe how much he'd loved it—was loving it right now—and he wondered how on earth Remy knew what to do. Comfortable and relaxed, he voiced his question.

There was silence for a moment as Remy thought about his answer. His hand moved from Spencer's back to his hair, teasing the strands between his fingers. "Wit' y', it was just a lucky guess." He eventually answered. "Everyone's a lil different in what dey need. Some need held, some need words. One girl I knew needed soft, sweet lovin' to come back down from dat high y' get."

Spencer thought for a second and then snorted. "And I need a bath?"

"Y' need de caring." Remy countered gently. "Least, dat's what seems to work fo' y'. Being held and taken care of. Spoiled a bit. Somet'ing tells me y' don't exactly get dat anywhere else."

Ignoring the truth of that, Spencer focused instead on something else. "What about you?" He tipped his head up just enough that he could peek through his bangs. "I mean, it seems intense for you too, at least I think it does. Don't you need some kind of aftercare, too?" The idea that he wasn't doing something right, that he wasn't giving Remy what he needed the way that Remy did for him, had Spencer's stomach clenching a little and his body tightening.

The smile that Remy gave him gentle and sweet. He moved his hand from Spencer's hair and brushed his knuckles over his cheek. "Relax, Spencer. It is intense fo' me, _oui_, _mais_ taking care of y' is my way of coming down. It helps soothe me, too. Holding y', having y' in m' arms, feeling y' so soft and pliant and trusting, dat helps me just as much as it helps y'."

"Oh." Well, good. The sick feeling faded away and Spencer let his body relax once more. He didn't think to question why it mattered so much, or why the idea of not giving Remy what he needed had been enough to leave him feeling sick.

Bringing his hand back to Spencer's hair, Remy went back to stroking through the soft locks. "We can talk about dis tomorrow, petit. I can feel how tired y' are. Just go ahead and get some sleep, yeah. I got y'."

That sounded like a good idea. Held comfortably in Remy's arms, his body both aching from their encounter and yet feeling heavy and relaxed with sleep, Spencer nuzzled down against the soft hair on the Cajun's chest and let himself drift off to sleep.

* * *

_Just a quick question for all of you, not super important. Do any of you want to see Spencer be a mutant in this? Or would you like him to just be regular old Spencer :)_


End file.

Criminal Minds, X-Men, Angst, Romance