*Let me just make an A/N here, so no one gets upset or offended – the term 'Bourbon Street whore' is one that I've heard my Tante and my Mama use when talking about certain 'loose women', so I'm just borrowing it for this. Please don't be offended! Also, yes I know that in the real world, a condom definitely should've been used here. Safe sex, people! Please just ignore that one wasn't, okay? Let's just pretend and not worry about that part. Also, I was planning on bringing in other characters, but somehow they made their way into the next story. So in the next one, we'll get to meet some X-Men. What do you think of that? :D*
The standard D/s, rough sex warnings in here, with added dirty talk and pain play added to the mix. You should be used to it all by now with this series, really :P
He got together with Remy three more times over the next five months. It would've been more, but he still fought with himself over giving in. It was so easy to just live in the moment when he was actually with Remy. It was easy to ignore the little voices in his head that hissed slurs and recriminations at him. He could get so lost in the moment with Remy that the world outside the hotel didn't matter. Or, that last time, the world outside the condo. Remy had surprised him when they'd met up the last time and he'd taken Spencer, not to a hotel, but to a condo. A beautiful place situated on the top floor of a building with a hell of a view and a special room inside that Remy had taken Spencer to and told him, as their bodies pressed against one another on the soft sheets of the bed, was completely soundproofed. When Spencer asked later about the place, Remy had just shrugged it off and said it was a place he'd owned for years. Nothing more was said on the subject.
What he had with Remy was proving to be everything he could want and more. It helped, too, that in the after moments, in down times when they were just lying there, they talked as well. Sometimes they talked about what it was that set Spencer off, sometimes they talked about the things that had been stressing Remy. Sometimes they just talked about simple things like books and movies. The only mention of work was in an abstract way, in association with something that might be bothering them. They never discussed cases or anything else Bureau related, and they never discussed whatever it was that Remy did, though Spencer already had a pretty good idea. He wasn't stupid; he'd seen mention of the X-Men on TV. He'd seen the same footage as the rest of the world. Associating Remy with the X-Men hadn't taken any great leaps of logic. But Spencer just didn't care. He didn't care in the least bit. Once they got together, their work personas were left behind and they were just Spencer and Remy, and that was all either one of them truly cared about.
But one thing they'd never discussed was exclusivity. Sure, Remy often said that he didn't share, but Spencer had always taken that to mean that no one else would be in the room with them. They'd never talked about what to do if one or the other needed to get together and the other party couldn't be reached. So far, they'd connected each time they'd needed to and it hadn't been an issue. Not until now.
Spencer's hands were shaking as he clutched at his cell phone. He was sitting in his car, fighting to find some form of calm. Some form of control. It just wasn't working. He'd called Remy twice now and had gotten no response and he'd been a little too shaky to trust himself to leave a message. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against the steering wheel.
How could they do this? How could they take her away? First they almost lost Derek on that case in LA and now, so close on the heels of that, they all found out that JJ is being taken away from them. Strauss is taking her away. Spencer had already been feeling on edge, like he was losing his grip on things around him, and this had sent him spinning. He'd kept as much composure as possible after JJ had told them the news. He'd kept somewhat calm. Then, as soon as they all left, he hurried to his car and let himself freak out.
Spencer knew his reaction wasn't exactly normal. It wasn't like JJ was dying or was moving to another country. She was just getting a different job. She'd still be around, sort of. He'd still be able to call her, talk to her, see her and see Henry. He'd still have contact with them, albeit not as often as he'd like. She just wouldn't be on the team anymore. Any normal person wouldn't freak out over this, his mind scolded him in a voice that sounded too much like his father for comfort. But look at you! Sitting down here in your car, flipping out just because your friend isn't going to be on the team anymore. Can we say 'abandonment issues'?
Well that wasn't anything new. He knew he had abandonment issues. Everyone close to him knew that. It wasn't a secret that he had a hard time letting people truly get close to him and he had a hard time if they had to leave. Look at his grief over Elle leaving, or his issues when Gideon left. Now JJ was leaving. Even though he knew it wasn't logical, it just felt like another loss in a long line of them.
He didn't want to try calling Remy again. He didn't want…God, he just needed. Right now he needed someone to anchor him in place and hold him tight enough that he wouldn't fall apart. So, though it felt wrong, he headed home and prepared himself, and then he went out like he used to, needing to find someone.
He even went so far as to go to the same club as before. It took almost no time at all, not even ten minutes, before he found someone that was giving out just the right signals. Someone who made it clear as a bell that they'd take him up on what he was offering. Spencer tried to ignore the little voice inside of him that was telling him how wrong this all felt. He had years of experience at ignoring the little internal voices that lectured him. Pushing those thoughts aside, he put himself into the hands of the strange man and let himself be led out of the club and into an alley. Spencer didn't care where they were going. He told himself he didn't care who the person was, either. All he cared about was getting what he needed. His mind was screaming for it and his body was jittery, bouncing around, unable to be completely still.
The guy looked him over when they hit the dark part of the alley. His eyes ran from head to toe and a blond eyebrow arched. "You on something?"
Spencer quickly shook his head. "No, nothing."
"You sure? You're jittering like you're jonsing. I aint into no drug scene."
"I'm not on anything!" Spencer snapped, his control just too shaky for this. He lifted his chin and met the guy eye for eye, too needy to bother being subtle anymore. "Are we going to stand around and talk about this or are we going to fuck? Because if you're too busy, I'll go back in there and find someone who can actually back up what they've been offering."
The words had been geared to piss the man off and they sure worked. Spencer found himself slammed back into the brick wall behind him and his mouth ravaged by what he'd have to consider a pretty good kiss. The man's hard body pressed up against him, holding him tight against the wall while firm hands slid over him. It was hard and rough and everything he thought he wanted but it wasn't the same. It didn't send his heart racing or fill him full of the blaze of lust that it usually did. It's just not right this time and he had no idea why. What was wrong here? Why was this so different?
Spencer tried to lift his hands and push against the guy's chest. He needed to break the kiss and tell him that this wasn't working, something was wrong here. But the guy caught his hands and pinned them to the wall on either side of his head. Their kiss broke and Spencer took advantage of the moment to spit out "Stop, stop. Stop!"
"That's how you wanna play it, huh?" The guy growled. "Sure, kid, I can play that game."
He leaned in again and tried to kiss Spencer once more, only Spencer turned his head away at the last second and the guy's lips ended up on his neck. "No, really, stop!" Spencer snapped, pushing against him. "This isn't working. Stop it! This isn't working!"
The hands holding his pulled up and Spencer's wrists were pinned in one firm grip while the other hand dropped down to cover Spencer's mouth. When Spencer bucked, finally starting to really fight, he was slammed back even harder against the wall. Mentally, he cursed himself over and over. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. Dammit! This was all going so horribly wrong.
All of a sudden the guy's hands let go of him and Spencer watched as he was yanked sideways. To Spencer's shock, he found a furious looking Remy standing in his place, devil eyes glowing sharply at him in the dark.
The guy said something that Spencer didn't quite catch, too caught up in watching Remy's face. But whatever he said had Remy turning and snarling at him. One card appeared between long fingers and started to glow pink. "Either back off, homme, or dey'll be picking y' up in pieces. Comprendre?"
Spencer turned his head and watched as his would be partner turned tail and raced away. Once he was gone, Spencer turned back towards Remy to thank him, only to find himself grabbed by his throat and slammed up against the brick wall. Whereas he'd felt pain and fear when the other guy had done it, he felt a jolt of lust through him now that grew even stronger when Remy leaned in and put their faces just inches apart. The hand on his throat tightened enough to restrict his airflow. "I told y' b'fore, y' want dis, y' call me." Remy snarled in his face.
"I, I tried." Spencer stammered as best he could past the obstruction on his throat.
"I know. Why do y' t'ink I'm here? Y' didn't answer m' call back." Still snarling, he leaned in closer, his hand tightening enough to draw a moan from Spencer, and he put their faces only inches apart. "Next time, y' leave a message and y' wait fo' me. Y'r mine, y' hear? Mine."
Oh, man, Remy was absolutely pissed. Spencer could see it in every line of him. That place inside of him rose up in response to it. He tipped his head back a little so that his throat pressed against Remy's hand. "Yes."
"Y'r damn lucky y' aint been seriously hurt. Men like dat, dey'll fuck y' right here in de alley and leave y' here just like y'r trash. Dey aint gonna make y' fly like I do. Dey aint gonna hold y'."
"I'm sorry, Remy."
"T'ought we had a deal, y' and me." Remy hissed in a low voice. "T'ought we agreed not to share. Didn't we? Or are y' trying to tell me y'r done wit' me? Is dat it?"
Spencer quickly tried to shake his head. "No, no!"
"Am I not giving y' what y' want, den?" Remy asked next. He pushed in so that his body was flush against Spencer's, pinning him to the wall, and one knee shoved its way between Spencer's legs. "Are y' trying to tell me dis is what y' need? Y' want dis, petit? Y' want fucked here in dis alley like some Bourbon Street whore, right out here where anyone can come along and see y'? See how badly y' want dis?"
The hard body against his, the rough touch, and then add in the filthy words coming out of that sinful mouth in Remy's low, whiskey warmed voice, it had Spencer's head spinning and his cock throbbing. He opened his mouth—to beg, to plead, there was no telling—but all that came out was a pleading sort of whine. His hips jerked against Remy's thigh. He didn't care where or how Remy had him, all he knew was that he needed him, now. Here in the alley, in the car, at the condo, at a hotel, who cared? Spencer started grinding against Remy's thigh, gasping at the friction, until Remy growled at him and thrust his hips forward, pinning Spencer's against the wall. That just drew another moan from Spencer. Leaning in, Remy bit at his bottom lip. "I don't t'ink so, petit. It aint gonna be dat easy. Y' was out here letting dat connard put his nasty paws all over y', and y' t'ink I'm just gonna go right on an fuck y' like it don't matter now? Y' wanna be treated like a whore? Fine, den." His hand slid around Spencer's throat, over the side of his neck and to the back and then up, grabbing a thick handful of Spencer's hair.
Holy shit. Spencer felt any of the remaining blood in his head drop straight down south. He felt Remy step back from him and all it took was a small tug on Spencer's hair and he happily dropped down to his knees without even giving a damn that he was still in some alley. He'd been about to let the stranger fuck him here. Why would he hesitate to do this for Remy? Kneeling put him perfectly eye level with Remy's crotch and he felt his mouth water. Wide brown eyes lifted up towards Remy's face, silently pleading. Remy sneered down at him with the perfect look of anger and lust to set Spencer's blood boiling. "What're y' waiting fo'?" Remy demanded.
Spencer needed no further encouragement. With shaking hands he quickly attacked Remy's belt and jeans. It took him longer than normal to get them unhooked because his hands were trembling almost too much to do it.
This was one of Spencer's absolute favorite things to do. He loved everything about it. The taste, the feel, all of it. It had the added bonus of muffling any sounds he made as well. That was a good thing. When he took Remy in his mouth, a moan slid up his throat. He relaxed and let Remy's cock slide all the way in until his nose was buried in dark curls. He swirled his tongue around, getting as much flavor as he could, moaning again at the salty taste of it, that pure essence that was Remy that his memories couldn't even do justice to. The hand in his hair tightened and Remy wasn't gentle as he started to thrust. He didn't take it easy, didn't give him time to adjust to what he was doing, just used his mouth like Spencer really was some common street whore, and it was so good, so perfect. This was everything that Spencer had wanted and that he hadn't found with anyone.
Spencer easily gave himself over to that comfortable headspace, welcoming the feeling of handing his control over to someone he knew would handle it and him well. He lost himself in that taste, the feel, the heat, the sensations. All of it consumed him. It was hard and hot and Spencer couldn't help but moan even more. He was dizzy, lost in the moment, in that space inside his head where this part of him lived, where he didn't just enjoy these kinds of encounters, but thrived on them. His whole world, his entire being, focused on pleasing this man above him. Spencer opened heavy eyes and looked up the length of Remy's body. The view was gorgeous. Remy's eyes were half shut, pleasure written plainly on his face, and his breathing was harsh. "Dieu" He breathed out in that husky voice that thrilled Spencer so damn much. He looked down and locked eyes with Spencer, the sheer strength in that gaze wringing another moan from Spencer. The sound made Remy smirk and he gave a deep thrust with his hips, shoving himself far down Spencer's throat. "Dat's it, petit. Dat's it. Show me how much y' like dis. Let me feel how much y' love being taken like dis, like a whore. My whore."
It was Heaven. Spencer's cock throbbed in his jeans with each push of Remy's cock down his throat. Everything was perfect. Remy's hand, tight in Spencer's hair. Those filthy words taunting Spencer in that whiskey voice. Hips thrusting forwards with each on his hair in a steady rhythm that took them both higher and higher.
As Remy's hand readjusted, moving him a little faster, Spencer braced his hands on Remy's hips and relaxed his throat even more while at the same time sucking just a little harder. Remy was getting close and he could feel it.
When Remy's body went taunt and that hand in his hair tightened enough that Spencer knew he'd bruise if it went any tighter, the young man moaned loudly. He felt the cock in his mouth spasm before that salty, bitter taste filled him. He swallowed eagerly, wanting to get it all. Even when it was done and Remy's cock started to soften, Spencer continued to nurse at it, wanting to get as much flavor as he could. A little whine slipped free when Remy pulled back and drew out of his mouth. "Put me away." He order, his voice that deep after-orgasm sound that Spencer found so attractive. Hell, was there a sound from this man he didn't find attractive?
His hands were shaking almost as badly as they had been when he'd unzipped Remy's jeans in the first place. But he got him tucked away without any undue fuss.
Remy made an approving sound when. His hand moved out of Spencer's hair and down around to curl over his neck, along his jawline. His thumb went over Spencer's chin, tipping his head up first. Then it pressed against his lips and Spencer eagerly opened his mouth, letting it slip inside. The way that Remy's eyes flashed at that had Spencer wanting to hum happily. Remy was staring down at him and there was still some annoyance on his face, but it was way less than it had been before. "Dat mouth of y'rs should be a lethal weapon." Remy told him. His smirk took on a slightly sharp edge to it that had Spencer shivering. He longed to reach down and touch himself, to ease the throbbing between his legs, but he was held in place by Remy's stare. The man watched him and curled his thumb a little, tugging on Spencer's bottom teeth. "Y' liked dis, didn't y'? Kneeling here in dis filthy alley, sucking me like a pro. Y' was greedy fo' it. Y' didn't even care dat someone might've come down here, did y'?"
Spencer shook his head as best he could past Remy's hold. He hadn't cared. In fact, he hadn't even thought about it. What little thought he'd given it, what little thought he gave it now, was washed away under the thrill of being here and the absolute assurance that Remy would keep him safe. Spencer let that assurance fill him, let it pour into his eyes, and he knew that Remy could see it by the way the man sucked in a sharp breath. The grip on Spencer's mouth tightened for a second. When Remy spoke again, his voice was lower, his accent just a bit thicker. "I'm gonna let y' go here in a minute and y'r gonna get up to y'r feet. Den we're gonna get out of here and I'm gonna take y' back to de condo. And if y'r good, I might jus' give y' what y' need."
Oh, God, he'd be good. He'd be perfect. Hell, he'd give Remy anything the man asked for—demanded—in that bedroom voice of his. When Remy drew his hand free and gestured for Spencer to rise, the genius moved quickly, eagerly, and let Remy lead him out of the darkened alley.
Hours later any thoughts of going to anyone else that Spencer had entertained were long gone. Pretty much any thoughts were gone. All he could think about, all he could focus on, was the throbbing, aching sensation coursing through every inch of his body. He was lying in the middle of a big, beautiful bed covered in black silk sheets with his hands held to the headboard by a chain and leather cuffs, the key to which was in the nightstand drawer. His body was covered in bites and bruises and a thin sheen of sweat, and his cock was harder than it had ever been in his life. Remy seemed determined to drive him absolutely out of his mind. He'd stripped Spencer the instant they'd gotten to the condo. Then he'd dragged him to the shower and proceeded to wash the scent of the club and the other man's cologne off of him.
Once they were out of there, the man had brought Spencer over to the bed, stretched him out, cuffed his arms spread out to either bedpost, and then proceeded to try and melt every brain cell Spencer had. In the past two hours, Remy had come twice already and Spencer hadn't been allowed even once, something he loved and hated in equal measure, and Remy knew that. Spencer was desperate for it, would be pleading if Remy hadn't told him to be silent, and yet he didn't want this to end too soon. This was exactly what he needed. Without even knowing what was going on Remy still managed to give him what he needed. He was holding Spencer here by cuffs and by will, refusing to let him go, and he was staking claim to him in a way that let Spencer clearly know that Remy wasn't planning on letting him go any time soon. After the shock of finding out that he was losing someone important in his life, this was just what he needed.
Remy had stepped away from the bed for just a moment to grab something and though he could see him, Spencer couldn't help the little whine that slipped out. Words were once again gone. Relief filled him when he saw Remy coming back with a bottle of water. He brought it over and let Spencer have a drink or two. Then he set it down on the nightstand and pulled out the key to the cuffs. Spencer's eyes went wide. Remy wasn't going to let him go, was he? When Remy reached up towards the cuffs, Spencer actually flinched back a little, not wanting to let go.
A firm hand caught Spencer's chin and held him still. Those sharp devil eyes pinned Spencer's and held them in a gaze he couldn't break. "Hold still. I aint letting y' go, petit." Remy told him firmly, no trace of doubt or hesitance in his tone. "I aint. Y'r mine, y' hear? Mine. Remember?"
He did. He did remember. But he still didn't want Remy to unhook the cuffs. Being unrestrained right now was the very last thing that Spencer wanted. In that moment, he didn't know if he could handle the sensation of being free. He needed the solidness of that cuff holding him here.
There must've been something in his eyes because Remy shook his head at him. "Y' just don't get it. Short of y' telling me to leave y' de hell alone, aint not'ing getting me to leave y', petit." He let go of Spencer's chin to reach up and unhook Spencer's left and then his right arm. In a move so fast and slick that Spencer didn't even have time to form a protest, he brought his hands together and re-hooked them to the headboard right in the center. As soon as Spencer was hooked in place again, he was being turned over onto his stomach. The bed dipped and Remy was kneeling right at his hip now, bending low over him. "How many times do I got to tell y', hm? How can I make sure y' don't ever fo'get again? Y'r mine and dat means I don't share. Dat means y' don't go out strutting y'r ass fo' no one else." The words were punctuated by a sharp slap to his ass. "Y' want dis, y' come to me." His voice sharpened, turned just a little harsher. "Did y' t'ink I wouldn't care? Dat I'd be fine wit' y' going out and picking up someone else?" He bent, fisting a hand in Spencer's hair and yanking his head back, stretching out his neck. Remy brought his face down until Spencer could feel his breath on his cheek. He whimpered, the only sound he could make as Remy growled at him. "Y'r mine and I aint letting y' go, petit. Not now, not ever. I'm gonna make damn sure dat lesson sinks in t'night so y' don't never fo'get again."
Oh, sweet God. Spencer's whimpers grew louder, turning to a pleading whine. That was what he wanted more than anything else. He needed this. With everything in his life feeling like it was in turmoil and with this feeling like he was losing the people around him, he needed Remy's strength to hold him here, to remind him that he was held tight against all the things that were threatening to rip him apart.
Remy let go of him and pushed up off the bed. All Spencer could do was lie there, trembling, as Remy stepped a little ways away and then came back over. A peek showed Spencer that Remy was setting a big black duffle bag on the bed. He shivered at the sight of it. That bag was something Spencer had come to dread and anticipate in almost equal measures. Everything that Remy had ever pulled out of there had been absolutely wonderful, whether it brought pleasure or pain. He always had a say-so, he knew. He could veto anything if he truly didn't want it. So far he hadn't told Remy no to anything.
This time, though, what he pulled out wasn't anything new. Spencer actually shuddered when he saw Remy pull out the flogger. They'd brought that into their play the last time, as it was one of Spencer's favorite implements, and he'd learned just how well Remy could wield it. It was a medium sized elk flogger that gave that delightfully 'thuddy' feeling that Spencer so loved. Seeing it now had him growing impossibly harder. His hips jerked against the sheets involuntarily and he only managed to stop when Remy looked up sharply. Somehow Spencer managed to stop. His body was trembling, though. Shakes that ran from head to toe. When Remy set the bag on the floor and turned back to face Spencer, that flogger in his hands, the shakes only grew. He wanted this. Oh, sweet Heavens above, he wanted this so damn bad.
"Y' remember y'r words?" Remy asked him.
This was important. He knew Remy wouldn't continue on without this. He knew Spencer well by now, knew that he didn't need a lot of talking at this kind of moment, that he preferred to just jump right in, but he wouldn't do a thing without checking this one very important thing first. And Spencer had to give him a real answer, too. Not just a frantic nod. Spencer focused hard, dredging up the words that had run away from him. "T-Traffic lights." Spencer finally stammered out. It was their safe word system they used. Simple, basic, easy. Green was go, everything was good. Yellow was stop, check and make sure everything was okay, fix whatever was wrong. Red was an instant stop. Scene done, game over. Remy would unhook him from anything that held him and they'd be done, no judgments, no recriminations.
A pleased hum sounded beside him. "Mm, very good. Now, try an hold still petit."
That was all the warning that he gave. Spencer had just seconds to try and prepare himself—just as he liked it. He liked that element of surprise. Pain was a big thing for him, one of the things that made him feel alive, and he needed it to happen outside of his orders, outside his control. He needed it to happen on Remy's terms. Using the element of surprise was one good way of doing that.
The first strike jolted through him, landing right across the top of his buttocks, making him jump and clench more out of surprise than pain. The stroke was just enough to leave a pleasant sting but not much more. The next was a little stronger, just a few inches below the first. Skin already sensitized by hours of play made each stroke feel like so much more. Spencer clenched his hands down and rode through it as Remy varied his strokes here and there and gradually increased the strength of each one. He'd learned fast last time and he knew Spencer had a high tolerance. He also seemed to instinctively know how to play it all just right so that it took Spencer higher and higher with each touch of the flogger.
Little by little Spencer's skin tightened and warmed. It became more sensitive so that each strike felt like so much more than it actually was. Spencer tried to hold still for them, tried to keep the sounds locked behind his teeth, because the few others he'd ever done this with had demanded silence from him, but Remy last time had worked so hard to draw those sounds from Spencer and this time was proving to be no different. Silence seemed to spur him on to try harder. Soon Spencer's whole backside was on fire, burning so wonderfully, his skin tight and tingling, like there was a current running through him, through the welts that were building.
Spencer was losing all semblance of control. Sounds were dripping past his lips and he couldn't stop them. Whimpers, cries, and eventually, choked sobs. The pain was spreading, growing, moving over him, and he couldn't take it, no, no, no more, he couldn't. His body ached, wanting to pull away from the heat because he couldn't take this anymore, couldn't stand the burning, stinging pain. Another blow landed and it was too much. Spencer couldn't hold the pain in anymore. Tears broke free, pouring down his cheeks, and the first real sob tore past his lips. But Remy didn't stop.
Sobbing, aching, Spencer opened his mouth, ready to beg, to plead, anything, but what came out wasn't at all what he'd planned on. "Please, please. Remy!" He sobbed, tears pouring down his face. "Don't stop, don't stop, oh God, fuck, oh please, pleasseeee!" And he found that he wasn't thinking of moving away anymore. He held still, knowing that moving could cause a blow to miss and seriously hurt him, but he wanted to lift himself up, to offer his body to each painfully pleasurable stroke. The feel of it against his skin still hurt so damn much, but it was a wonderful hurt, an amazing hurt. It was perfect. He was flying, higher and higher, his cock aching, while all the while the cries and whimpers and pleas still poured past his lips.
The whipping stopped suddenly and Spencer found himself sobbing even more now that it was gone. No! No! "Re-my!"
"Shh, shh." The bed dipped as Remy climbed on to it. Hands caught at Spencer's hips and drew up and he quickly scrambled to get his knees under him, knowing what Remy was going to do, what they both wanted him to do. He let out another sob when Remy slid two fingers in hi to check that he was still lubed. When he pulled them back out, Spencer keened at the empty feeling. "Shh." Remy soothed him again. His hand stroked over Spencer's back, fingers rubbing deliciously against the sensitive skin, and the bed moved as Remy got into place behind him. There was a familiar crinkle and tearing sound and then, after a brief moment in which Spencer knew the condom was being slid on, he was finally moving again. The head of his cock pressed up against Spencer's body and the genius gave another sob, this one of relief. He wanted to shove back, to force it in, but his body felt heavy and awkward and he couldn't get the leverage to move and Remy was gripping his hips again, holding him tightly in place as he buried himself with one hard thrust that wrung a sobbing howl from Spencer's lips. But once in, he didn't move. He leaned over Spencer, pressing against skin that still stung from the flogger, bringing the pain back fresh, but he didn't move his hips.
Spencer could hear the harsh breathing from behind him and knew that Remy wasn't unaffected by all this. He was just as hot, just as ready. So why wasn't he moving? Spencer whined and tried to rock backwards, earning him a sharp slap on his backside right over a set of welts, drawing a shocked wail from Spencer. Long fingers curled into his hip and Remy held him in place while he pulled carefully out and then snapped his hips forward and sank back into Spencer's heat.
It was more intense than anything Spencer could remember. Hours of play, of teasing, of being played by Remy's skillful hands, followed by a flogging with Spencer's favorite toy, and now this. Spencer gave himself over to the sensation and let it consume him. And when Remy wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him with the same roughness as he was fucking into him, he was gone. The world whited out around him with the force of the pleasure that ripped its way through him. It was pleasure so strong it was pain and yet the pain only made it all the more pleasurable. His cries echoed around the room as his pleasure consumed him.
Spencer didn't come down from the high to find himself in the bath as he usually did. He found himself still lying in bed, clinging tightly to Remy, draped over top of the man and held securely in his embrace. Remy was stroking at his hair and lightly over the unmarred part of his back and he kept it up even as he felt Spencer start to stir. There was no telling how long they'd been lying there. The sweat on their skin hadn't even dried yet. Spencer wondered vaguely why they were still lying here, why Remy hadn't taken them to clean up yet like he usually did. He wasn't usually one to let them stay like this.
His face and Remy's chest especially seemed to be sweaty. Spencer lifted a hand, which shook tremendously, and wiped it across his face. More moisture took its place. What was going on? He brought his hand back to his cheek and touched it again, this time a little more gently, and his fogged brain took quite a bit longer than normal to finally place what it was he was feeling. Tears. He was crying? How on earth could he not have known he was crying? There was no denying it. Now that he noticed, he could feel the tears pouring from him, the little hitching breaths that stuck in his chest. Stop it! He told himself. The tears didn't stop, though. If anything, they seemed to be coming faster. Spencer couldn't seem to make them stop and he didn't understand why. He didn't understand what the hell was going on. Everything had been feeling so wonderful! Why was he crying? Why on earth did his insides feel like they were breaking apart?
The arms around him moved and Spencer found himself dragged a little. Remy was moving, propping himself up on the pillows, and he was drawing Spencer right between his legs to rest against his chest. Spencer found his ear pillowed over Remy's heart and the man's warm, solid body right there, arms and legs wrapping around him and holding him in place. It only seemed to make the tears come more. "I'm s-s-sorry." Spencer just managed to get the words out past the little hiccupping sobs that were shaking him. "I d-don't….I sh-sh-shouldn't…"
"Shh." Remy cut him off. He cupped Spencer's head with one hand while his other ran up and down Spencer's arm in firm strokes. "It's okay, petit. Everyt'ings okay. Y'r safe here, now. Jus' let it out. I'm right here and I got y'."
Those gentle words just coaxed out more tears. There seemed to be no stopping them and Spencer just didn't have the strength to try. Remy wasn't condemning him for them; he was encouraging them. Encouraging Spencer to just relax and let it go. So—he did. He stopped fighting it and just let the tears come. They ran from him as the sobs shook his body. Spencer let himself go and just cried until his eyes were swollen and his nose ran. All the while, Remy held him close and safe, just like he promised, and he never once let go.
Eventually, as the tears faded and Spencer's mind started to even back out, he mustered up enough energy to turn his head and press a kiss against the skin in front of him. "Thank you." He murmured.
"Y' feelin' better?" Remy asked, smoothing back some of his hair.
"Mm hm." Tired, swollen eyes slid shut and Spencer just lay there, enjoying this purged, empty feeling inside. It was like he'd taken everything and just emptied it all out right here and there was nothing left in him to give.
Remy lifted one arm off him and stretched away. A second later his hand came back and Spencer felt a soft cloth wiping at his face. He knew he should muster up some embarrassment or indignation when Remy actually wiped his nose for him. He didn't, though. He just lay there and let him. And when his face was clean, when Remy's chest had been wiped as well, he let himself be gathered close once more and cradled almost like a child. His shaking arms slipped down to wrap around Remy's waist and he burrowed in to the man's hold. They stayed like that for a moment or two while Remy let Spencer gain a little more composure. But Spencer knew he had to talk about what was going on; he owed Remy an apology for what he had almost done earlier, a thank you for saving him, and an explanation for it all. First things first, he'd start with the most important of them all. "I'm sorry, Remy." The words were soft, just whispered against Remy's skin, yet he knew they were heard. "I just…I wasn't thinking earlier and I, when I couldn't get a hold of you I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I know, it's, it's no excuse and you have every right to be mad at me. I just…I'm sorry." God, that sounded horrible! What happened to his usual speech? Where were all the words he was so famous for knowing? That had been one of the most stuttered, broken apologies he'd ever given!
He was so worried about how he sounded that he was completely stunned when Remy pressed a kiss to the top of his head and calmly told him "It's okay, petit."
Wait…what? "What?"
Remy rubbed soothingly at his arm. "I said it's okay. Y' and I, we were both at fault here."
"No!" How on earth could Remy think that he was at fault? Spencer lifted his head just enough to look up at Remy with wide, surprised eyes. "You didn't do anything wrong. This was my mistake."
The look Remy was giving him was both warm and extremely fond. "Dat's sweet of y' to say." The hand in Spencer's hair tugged, drawing him back down so that his ear was once more resting over Remy's heart. "But I made mistakes here, too. I never made it perfectly clear when I said I don't share. I can see how y' probably t'ought I meant I don't bring others in to play—which I don't. I should've made it clear dat I don't share at all. An we both should've talked about what to do if we can't get ahold of one another an it's important like dis obviously was. Like I said, we both made mistakes, petit, and later on we'll talk dem out, when we're both a little more settled."
Well, he couldn't argue that. Remy had a good point; a conversation like that really should wait until they were settled. Just saying the apology had been enough for Spencer for now. Now he could move on to the next part of things—explanations. Not only did he think that Remy deserved to hear it, something in Spencer needed to say it. "I didn't mean to completely fall apart on you here. Really, I shouldn't have been as on edge as I was. It's, well, you're going to think it's silly."
"I highly doubt dat." Remy said sincerely.
Drawing in a deep breath, Spencer closed his eyes and let himself lean on the strength and safety here. Then, in short terms, he told Remy what had happened. He told him about coming back from the case, about finding out that JJ was being taken without her even being okay with it. He told Remy about the fears that had sprang to life in him since then. Worries that he'd never see this woman that was like his sister. That, without working together, they would drift apart and he wouldn't get to see her, or his Godson. That he was losing a part of his very small family and just how much that terrified him. The tears were back by the time he finished his explanation, as well as a keen sense of embarrassment. That embarrassment had him burying his face a little more against Remy's chest like he could somehow hide there. "I'm sorry." He mumbled, voice muffled against Remy's skin. "I'm just, I'm overreacting, that's all. It's not like she's died or anything. I'm just being stupid."
"Ah, petit." Remy let out a sigh and his hand started to stroke at Spencer's hair, almost petting him. "What y' feel is not stupid. Y'r entitled to feel however y' want about dis and aint no one got de right to tell y' differently. Dis hurts y' and it scares the hell out of y'. Dere's no shame in dat."
"I sound like an idiot. I shouldn't be whining or panicking over it. Everyone else is handling it like an adult and I should be able to as well." Spencer insisted.
That was the wrong thing to say. Remy's gentleness gave way to a hint of that rougher side of him. His hand caught Spencer's hair and used it like a handle to lift his head and tilt it so that they were looking eye to eye. In Remy's gaze was an intensity that held Spencer as inflexibly as the hand held his hair. "Now listen here and listen well, Spencer Reid." Remy told him firmly. "Y'r not an idiot fo' feeling t'ings different dan anyone else and it don't make y' any less an adult. Who de hell cares if y' break down in here wit' me? Maybe out dere y'r expected to act a certain way, or keep t'ings locked inside, mais not in here. Y' can be as tough as y' want when y'r out dere playing Dr. Reid. But when we walk t'rough de front door here, y' aint SSA Dr. Spencer Reid no more. Y'r jus' Spencer, m' petit, and Spencer can be a whining, needy, terrified coward. He can cry his eyes out if he needs it. Spencer doesn't have to be strong. Dis is y'r safe zone here, petit. Y' aint got to wear de masks or put on de acts dat y' gotta put on out dere. In here, y' get to be whatever y' need to be, knowing dat I'll be here de whole time to hold y' together. I don't want y' forcing y'rself to play it tough wit' me here. Do I make m'self clear, petit?"
Spencer had thought that there was nothing left in him that he could give. That he'd cried everything out just moments before. Yet, inexplicably, he found more tears. They pooled in the bottom of his eyes and leaked down onto his cheeks. Gratitude filled him. In one short, stern lecture, Remy granted Spencer the one thing he'd always wanted and that he'd never had—a safe place in the world. A place to be free to be who he was with someone that had proved they wouldn't take advantage of his weakness. Though it didn't happen often, this was one of those instances that Spencer found himself able to respond in only one way. "Yes, sir."
"Good boy." Remy said. He bent down, taking a quick kiss, and then his grip on Spencer's hair loosened and his hands were moving, shifting them around. Spencer didn't even ask what he was doing. He didn't even have to. Remy explained himself. "C'mon, let's go make use of dat big ol tub. We need to clean y' up and soak y'r muscles."
With this newfound peace in him, Spencer let go of his worries, let go of responsibility, and trusted himself to Remy's hands as the man carefully started to move them both.
Now, I was extremely nervous about posting this. Well, honestly, I've been nervous about the whole storyline. Things in here are not to be taken for fact and the practices they indulge in are not for everyone, nor should you try it at home without proper experience and a partner you trust. Some of the things done here are things that I've some experience with, though it's much harder to translate a memory into a story than I originally realized. If you enjoyed this story, I'm so very glad. If not, I'm requesting please keep your complaints to yourself, s'il vous plait. If you don't like it, just change the page and avoid this series. I don't mean to sound rude, but I'm already nervous about all this to begin with, I don't want to deal with angry letters, people telling me I did this or this wrong, and I definitely don't want any more PM's with people telling me that what I write is sick or wrong or too degrading, or that I need help, as I got those with the last installment of needs. This is fiction that I wrote because I enjoyed writing it, my lovelies. No one says you have to like it, but manners say that you shouldn't try to verbally tear someone apart just because you don't like what they write. Merci!