There may be some type-os here, but it's super late so I'll edit it later.

This is the sequel to my Flying South, but it can be read independently.

Box of Chocolates

It's times like this I should really be asking myself how I ended up here.

I mean, honestly, part of me wonders if I should be embarrassed. How many times can I make the same mistake? Aren't you supposed to learn from your mistakes? That's a thing, right?

Well, maybe this isn't a mistake. I know, I know, same song and dance and all that, I've said this all before.

I mean, if you do the same thing over and over, and you keep doing it, not mention keep enjoying it, then clearly it can't be that bad.

Even if you're worried that a certain set of perfectly sculpted abdominal muscles will distract you to the point where you might fail your last semester of college and be forced to repeat it. That, my friends, would be a mistake.

"Cheers, Chere." Remy is grinning as he slides back into bed next to me. All he's got on are those ridiculous pink silly boxers with white hearts all over them. They're terribly tacky, really, and part of me thinks he should be embarrassed.

Regardless of his underwear, I find myself looking up and down his body. When in Rome, right?

Mmmm, but there are those aforementioned abdominals; Nothing embarrassing about those.

He hands me a flute of what looks like champagne and taps his glass against mine. I'm not sure what he's toasting exactly...unless it's the magnificent sex we just had, and in that case, I'll surely toast to that.

"Cheers," I drawl back at him, watching his eyes focus on my chest, where the satin sheet is tucked around my sides, just above my breasts.

I take a slow sip, confirming that it is the drink I had predicted. He had to be thinking back to Christmas Eve when we ran into each other in that Louisiana Bar. I don't normally drink champagne, truthfully I think it tastes a little bit like armpit, but I was celebrating the holidays in my own little way. That had to be why he had ordered the drink now.

After another sip, I look at him and can't help but grin, "Did yah just meet Room Service in those ridiculous underwear?"

He's downing his glass with that playful smirk on his face, "Yo' kno I did."

"Remy!" I swat a hand at his chest before taking a long, satisfying drink.

Before I can do anything else, he sets his glass aside, and takes mine out of my hand to do the same. He's grinning suspiciously as his large hands grab my hips and he quickly pulls me down the bed so I'm no longer sitting against the head board.

I can't fight the giggle bubbling up in my chest and he pounces on top of me.

He kisses me on the mouth, just long enough so that I'm distracted and don't notice him pull the sheet down my body.

"Remy!" I scold him the only way I can, but it's hard to keep a look of anger on my face.

I just can't help it with this stupid Cajun.

It's like sprinkley doughnuts. Yeah, sure, they're not good for you and you probably shouldn't eat them, but they're so damn delicious and they have sprinkles for goodness sake! So you do eat one, even though you shouldn't have, but there is no way you could feel bad afterwards because it was so unbelievably tasty and you were just thinking about how your life didn't have enough sprinkles anyway.

Now I really want a doughnut.

"Oh," I moan softly as I feel Remy's lip hit that sensitive spot on my collarbone. His hands are grasping my hips through the sheet, and I decide that I'm too busy right now and I can probably wait a bit for doughnuts.

Well, that's provided there's a Dunkin' near by, because other doughnuts don't really compare.

Hey, how late are they open anyway?

"So this one," I watch as Kitty hold up a small pink skirt to her body, and then replaces it with an identical skirt, but in red, "oooooor this one?"

It really takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. I mean, sure, that might seem a little rude, but who cares? They're exactly the same. "Kitty," I sigh loudly, making sure that she's aware of how exasperated I am, "It doesn't matter. Just pick one."

She turns away from her full-length mirror and gives me that huffy look she's always sending me.

Y'know, I don't mind hanging out in her apartment. It's small, and a little too pink and glittery, and I'm sure Allison is the world's most obnoxious roommate, but it's not bad. Plus, it gives me an excuse not to rush home to the mansion after my college classes are finished for the day.

See, Kitty lives in central NYC, near my campus. She still comes to the mansion for training on weekends, but after she graduated two years ago (yeah, yeah, taking that year off before school is biting me in the butt), she got some fancy computer job at some hotshot security agency...

Right? I don't get how she fits in either. I just assume its a bunch of sweaty nerds in short sleeve button down shirts drooling at the brunette in the push up bra who happens to be prancing obliviously around the office.

Whatever. She taps her foot on the floor impatiently and I continue my unwelcome best friend task, "Kitty, Ah don't think Pete will care what yah decide to wear. He just wants to spend time with yah."

"Roooogue," I'm pretty sure she's starting to look as exasperated as I feel. That's hilarious. What goes around, comes around. "Of course it matters! It's Valentines Day! Everything matters on Valentines day!"

It seriously should not take me this long to come up with a witty retort to that. Really. The first thing that comes to mind is blah blahing something about it being a Hallmark holiday, but is that really all I've got? How cliche is that argument?

Before my sarcasm can kick in, she's fully facing me and her eyes are doing that thing where they'd be shooting lasers at me if possible. "Speaking of which," I don't like her pointed tone, "What are you doing for Valentines day?"

What am I doing? Well, nothing, unless you count going out after dinner time when all the stores start marking the Valentines day candy down to 50% off. What? I like chocolate, and this college student is too broke to buy the good stuff. Chocolate like that doesn't get marked down normally, but put it In a heart shaped box and suddenly it's a day old and in my budget.

A girl has gotta eat.

But to answer Kitty's question, "Ah don't think Ah'm doing much."

I'm really not. I'm not seeing anybody right now; not that I'd be into such a cheesy over marketed faux holiday anyway.

And it's not like I don't date. I do. Occasionally. It's just casual is all, and now that I moved back to the mansion for my senior year, it's not like I can bring guys home with me. Typically it's just easier to stay at their place, but then I'd have to walk-of-shame home and every nosey little a-hole in that place would know I've been out all night.

And, yes, Logan is included in that group, and he's one of the worst offenders in the noseyness category. Yeah, I get it, he cares, and that's great, but I'm a 24-year-old woman and I'm pretty sure that my personal life is none of his business.

"What about Remy? Has he called lately?" Kitty's question surprises me, but it shouldn't.

I happen to mention off-handedly that I ran into Remy LeBeau during my Christmas vacation. Who is Remy, you ask? Well, I'm not exactly sure how to describe the relationship I have with the Cajun Adonis... He's not so much of an ex boyfriend as he is a current lover.

Eh, that over complicates things.

Basically, I lost my V-Card to the guy (on purpose, mind you) after lusting after him for far too long, as we carried on our little tryst for a good three years. I've run into him a couple of times since then.

And to clarify, by 'run into him' I mean 'let him pound me into his mattress.'

I can't put it into words exactly, but if you've ever felt chemistry with someone, that's what Remy and I have. It's like as soon as I see him, I feel heat or electric current or something and I can't stop it, even after I've hurried under his lean, tan, sweaty body.

Which reminds me, that man is gorgeous.

I look back to Kitty, trying to pull my mind out of the gutter that its falling deeply into, "What about him? Ah saw him over the holiday, but that wasn't a planned thing. It's not like Ah said 'hey let's make plans for two months from now on Valentines Day before Ah leave."

She blinks at me, like she doesn't understand, "Well, why not?"

Now it's my turn not to understand. "Kitty, Remy and meh? We're not like that."

If we're anything, it would be volatile.

What's that Eminem lyric? 'What happens when a volcano means a tornado'? Yeah, that's the perfect description of us; fits to a T.

That kind of unpredictability is great in bed and for chance meetings, but it can't be controlled and it certainly can't be tied down.

Kitty rolls her eyes and clearly over exaggerates it to make sure I notice. Yeah, I see it, and it's as annoying as all get out. "Roooogue," she's whining, "You're in love with the guy. Just tell him you want him to be your boyfriend."

In love with him? Yeah, maybe I am. What of it?

And boyfriend? "Blergh," I make a face. Remy and I ran into each other after not seeing each other for a year and a half. And it was glorious.

Taking the spontaneity out of whatever it is that Remy and I have would surely ruin it.

That's doesn't mean that I haven't been fantasizing about our last Holiday together. Because I have. And it's amazing.

I sigh softly as I feel hot lips pressing small kisses against the shell of my ear.

He's whispering to me. In French. Could that be any more freaking romantic?

It's not like I can say anything. Clearly I'm eating this shit up, and I don't even know what he's saying. I'm a strong, confident woman, and here I am melting at words I don't understand.

You know what, does it even matter what he's saying? Probably not.

His body is on top of mine and I can feel his body heat despite his sweat-slicked skin.

He wraps his arms are wrapped around my body, and pulls back onto his knees so he's sitting up, taking me with him. It's as if we weren't close enough and he had to pull every inch of my naked skin against his.

I can feel him aching for our bodies to be together and I wrap my arms tight around his neck. In response, I feel his arm that's around my waist tighten, followed shortly by the one on the middle of my back.

Me legs are bent at the knees next to my sides, but on sheer impulse I lift one and wrap it around his midsection.

"Mon Dieu," his breath heaves out and he groans. After a moment, he attaches his lips to my collarbone on that spot he knows I like.

It takes a little bit of effort, because neither of us can seem to loosen the grip we have on each other even the slightest bit, but I get my other leg around his body and shimmy into his lap.

As I move on top of him, his hardness brushes against me and he lets out a low growl. It is by far the sexiest thing I've ever heard.

The sexy sound is punctuated by him biting down on my collarbone. In response, my head is immediately thrown back and I tightly close my eyes.

I'm panting, I can feel it, but it just makes things worse. My chest heaves, but it's wrapped so tightly against his that my breasts rub even more against him.

"Oh Remy," I pant his name, and not just because I know he likes to hear me breathless, but because I can't help it.

I release one hand from his neck, just so I can pull out the hair tie that's there, holding back his hair. I don't know why I didn't do it sooner. I love his hair.

It used to be shorter, back when we were younger, but he grows it out for me. He's never said as much, but I know it's true, and just like all those unrecognizable French words; it's a terribly romantic thing for him to do.

I weave my hand deep into his auburn hair as soon as the tie its gone. I cradle the back of his head, enjoying how steady it feels with all those tresses smooth between my fingers.

"Chere," he whispers it as his tongue drags down my salty shoulder.

I know what he wants. That's the thing about having known someone so intimately for so long. You know what they want and exactly how to satisfy them. You'd think that would make things boring, but in fact, it does the exactly opposite.

I run my hair through his hair from end to root, before closing my fist and making a little tug.

"Rogue." He grunts and tilts his head down to rest his forehead on my shoulder. He's breathing as hard as I am.

I pull his hair a bit harder, and am rewarded with a growl so sexy that my knees would've gone weak if I'd still been standing.

I watch as Kitty's eyes widen in panic and she shrieks out loud, "Oh no! That'll be Piotr and I'm not even close to being ready! Please get the door and stall him! Please!"

Slightly amused by Kitty's dramatics, I get up and leave her room, closing the bedroom door.

As I hear another soft knock, I open the door.

"Oh," Kitty's giant Russian boyfriend looks surprised to see me, but only takes a moment before giving me a side smile, "Hello, Rogue, good to see you."

I step aside so he can enter, and can't help smiling back. Piotr is by far the nicest man you will ever meet. Not only does he worship the golden ground Kitty walks on, but he opens doors and shit for strangers. You might think it's kind of lame if you didn't know him, but the truth is that he's so sincere in all his chivalrous niceness that he could give the Pope a run for his money.

I'd say that the big guy would never hurt a fly, put he's giant and I've seen him do major damage. Not that I can tell you about that, because I can't.

And here he is now, standing in the middle of Kitty's apartment all decked out in suit and tie, carrying a ridiculously tacky bouquet of hit pink roses (which Kitty will love) and a very tasty looking heart shaped box.

I wonder if its dark chocolate.

Piotr smiles easily at me, "Will you be joining us for dinner?"

That's the thing about Pete. Would most men even think of inviting their girlfriend's friend on the fancy smantsy gooey romantic date they had all ready planned? Of course not. And if they did would they be happy about it? No, no possible way.

But Pete? He wouldn't mind having me at all. In fact, I'm sure he'd tell Kitty what a nice surprise it was that I could be part of their smoochy love fest.

"No, Pete," I shake my head, "Ah'm just stalling you because Kitty can't decided what to wear."

He chuckles at that, "I am sure that she will look perfect."

See, most men would be pissed to wait for their girlfriend to get ready, especially when she knew about their Valentine's Day plans weeks in advance. Not to mention that reservations in NYC on February 14? Yeah, you're going to want to get there on time, otherwise you'll be celebrating next to a taco cart on the street.

Which, come to think of it, sounds pretty good right now.

But Piotr? He just nods, "I made two reservations, one at 6:00 and one at 6:30."

What other man would do that? Seriously. Kitty doesn't know how good she has it.

I hear a thud and a high-pitched curse coming from Kitty's bedroom, Piotr immediately looks alarmed. I smile smoothly because its seriously impossible to say rude things to the Russian and lead him into the kitchen, "Why don't Ah get a vase out for those flowers?"

He follows me as I pull a vase out of a cabinet and start filling it with water.

"So you and Remy will have dinner tonight also?"

"Huh? What?" Setting the vase down, I lean easily on the counter opposite him, "Ah don't have plans with Remy tonight."

"Oh," just as he wears his heart on his sleeve, his confusion is clear across his face, "Did you cancel?"

I'm sure my face mirrors his right now, all confused and shit, "Cancel?"

"Remy said he was seeing you tonight, that he had texted to remind you?"

"Ooooh," I nod like I've known all along because the last thing I want is for Kitty to get wind of this, "That explains it. I left me phone hooked up to Kitty's computer to charge. The battery died in class today."

"Ah," Piotr nods, completely placated, and doesn't even notice how my heart just started beating three times faster than a moment ago or even question the fact that most people would have a date planned before the evening of February 14th.

You're probably wondering how some Russian guy knows about my "date" before I do? Well, to use Kitty terminology here, the two are "besties."

I swear to you, the two don't have a thing in common, Piotr is all Mr. Nice Guy and Remy is a total bad boy, but after working together in the past, I assume they just kind of connected of something. Remy didn't keep in contact with much of anyone when he moved back to his hometown, but I know he contacts Piotr whenever he's in New York.

And I know for a fact that Piotr sends him letters. Honest to goodness letters. Seriously. And for Piotr, again, it's completely sincere. Un freaking believable.

I smile as sweetly as possibly at he Russian, who of course smiles back "Ah'm just going to go check on Kitty. Tell her to get a move on, eh?"

"Da." He chuckles and nods, "Thank you, Rogue.

I enter Kitty's room to see her staring at the large mirror and applying making. "Yah almost done? There's some big Russian guy asking about yah?"

Kitty does that squeaky giggle she always does, "Don't worry, I'm just adding the last bit of eye shadow."

Oh so subtly, I make my way over to her desk and unplug my phone. Two text messages. Interesting.

The first one is from Logan, my over bearing father figure, "Don't stay out too late."

Um, delete.

The second one is indeed from Remy LeBeau, "In town. Feeling like something Southern. Drinks tonight?"

In case you didn't catch the not so subtle innuendo, that something Southern is me.

I grin to myself, I can't help it. I reply, "On Valentine's day? You want me to cancel my other plans?"

The phone immediately beeps in my hand.

"Like who is that?" Kitty is spraying a ridiculous amount of hairspray into her hair, causing an even larger hole in the ozone layer directly above her apartment.

"Logan, he told meh not tah stay out late."

Kitty laughs and shakes her head. As soon as she's no long looking at me, I sneak a glance back to my phone screen, "If you be mine, I'll make it worth your while."

Be mine. I wrinkle my nose at how cheesy it sounds, but how can I resist?

I type back, "Does that make you my valentine?"

It takes about five seconds for my phone to beep in response. "Chere, I'll be your everything."

Oh, gawd. I know, I know, it's a text message for goodness sake, but I swear to you that the temperature in the room just increased. If it didn't, then why am I suddenly feeling so warm?

I'm smiling and I know that I can't not meet him. "Meet you at our bar. 7:15."

"Until then, mon Cherie."

"Okay!" Kitty's high-pitched voice pulls my mind away from its thoughts and I do my best to will away the heat from my cheeks. "I am ready to go!"

"Finally," I mutter after her, even though I know she'll ignore it.

I follow her out of the room and she squeals when she's sees Piotr and starts gushing about how handsome he is and how that tie brings out his eyes blah blah blah ugh.

She places the flowers in the vase I left sitting out and sets the chocolates next to it. She places her small hands on her boyfriend's shoulders and pulls her petite body up to place a kiss on his cheek.

Piotr blushes, and looks away, but seems suitably happy with her response.

I'm not making this up guys, these people are really acting like this.

As Piotr leads Kitty out the door, she glances at me for a second, "Don't forget to lock up!"

The door shuts and before I can do anything, Kitty sticks her head back through it - a mutant thing, I promise- and gives me a hard look, "And don't eat my chocolate."

With that she's gone, and I immediately head for the chocolate on the counter. I pull off the cellophane and open the lid.

Oh, what a nice variety.

Don't worry, I'll only eat one. She'll understand.

We roll over again and I'm on top of him this time. His bottom lip is between my teeth and I tug on it as he moans. I kiss his jaw line and his chin.

I love nothing more than the feeling of rough stubble against my lips.

I can feel his hands dancing down my body, touching my shoulders, my ribs, my waist. He stops at my hips and wraps his rough hands around them, pushing and pulling me against him so our bodies grind together.

It's delicious.

I run my hands down the planes of his chest, all smooth and perfectly sculpted. My flat hand travels across his pectoral muscles and my fingers brush across a nipple.

I hear him sigh and look up to see his head resting against that ridiculously pink pillow. His eyes are closed, but I can see the muscles in his face start to tense as my hand trails lower, my fingertips seeking out each individual cut between his perfect abdominals.

The man is built like a freaking piece of art.

If I didn't love him so much, I'd hate him.

I let my fingers finish their trek across his body, and let them follow the small trail of hair below his belly button.

Happy trail, indeed.

He moans and I think it ends in my name.

"Mon Dieu, Rogue," He trails off but I know what he's trying to say.

"Remy, Ah need yah." Yeah, I hear myself, and I realize I'm practically begging, but seriously. I want him so bad. Foreplay is fantastic, especially with him, but you can only spend so much time memorizing someone's naked body with your hands before you want more.

So much more.

Our legs are tangled together, and I feel his rubbing against one of mine as he slides a thick thigh between mine. He wraps his arms tight around my body, like they were earlier tonight.

My arms are around his neck again. I can feel his hips cradle mine as he rolls us one more time so he's back on top.

It's like I said, being together this long, I know him. Remy LeBeau is a big fan of all kinds of sex positions, but I know he likes to start out on top.

And like hell if I'm complaining.

His head tilts down and he kisses me softly below my ear. It's quite a change from the hot, flurry of passion we'd been dealing with.

He gets like this sometimes, all soft and sweet and romantic. I don't think a lot of people see him like this. I like it, that's it something only between us.

He's kissing my neck so slowly and softly and the stubble on his chin brushes roughly against my skin in contrast. I close my eyes as sigh.

This is bliss.

He's whispering in French again. I don't know what he's saying, and I don't care, but I do recognize 'chere' and 'mon amour.'

His hands run down my body and I feel his large warm grip on my hips. In a half a second, I'm feeling hotter than I have all night.

I bury my hands in the hair at the nape of his neck and tug a bit on it. I love sweet and smoldery Remy as much as the next girl, but I'm here for action!

He nods; even though I didn't ask a question, and I feel him shifting his body weight.

"Condom?" His voice is ragged; he wants this as much as I do.

I shake my head. Don't worry, guys, I'm disease free. One hundred percent clean over here.

One of his hands is in my hair and the other is positing himself.

I cry out as I feel him. My back arches and I can feel my chest pressed hotly against his.

He feels so good.

"Merde!" He's voice is as loud and raw as mine.

I hand the driver a handful of bills as I step out of the cab. I had just over an hour until I had to meet my Cajun, so I figure better to cab it than suffer on the Metro with all the other yuppies heading out on Valentines Day.

I stand up straight, close the cab door behind me, and smooth the hem of the dress against my thighs.

Yes, that's right, I'm wearing a dress. A dress of Kitty's to be exact. Clearly I didn't have enough time to get back the mansion to change.

It worked in my favor though. Kitty and I have completely different body types. We're both thin - Lord knows we work off more calories than we even want to - but Kitty is petite all around. I'm lucky enough to be built with boobs and hips. My figure is fantastic, but I fit Kitty's clothes pretty differently.

However, if I grab her short little black sleeveless dress and pull it over my set of girls? Well, it's the fabric is pulled taught across my breasts and the hemline is riding up my tights because its so tight on my hips.

Remy is gonna eat this up.

Despite the fact it breaks Kitty's fashion rules, I'm wearing my brown leather cowboy boots with said black dress. Sure they don't match, but I love them, and Kitty's shoes would fit me anyway.

Since I spent most of my time at Kitty's place shaving my legs (way past the knee and up the thighs, I'll have you know), I didn't have much time to do my hair, so I just twisted it up into a high ponytail.

I look up at the entrance of the bar, of our bar, of the bar Remy and I would always sneak away to together. Unlike the two restaurants on either side of the place with their revolving door of oogey gooey couples.

I step inside and it's like a wave of electricity hits me as soon as I enter. I see a set of beautifully defined broad shoulders at the bar and my heart beat speeds up. Goodness gracious that man in beautiful. I watch as he lifts a tumbler of I can only assume is Bourbon to his lips and slowly, luxuriously drains the amber colored liquid.

He slowly turns on the bar stool and his body is squared towards mine. I see the moment he notices me. He stands up, his jaw drops slightly, and his cigarette hanging from those red hot lips. Those naughty black jeans he's got on look unbelievably tight, and they look so sexy with his black dress shirt and red tie.

His red on black eyes are growing as they start at my toes and slowly drag up my bare legs, pause on my breasts, and then his eyes meet mine.

His lips curve into his token smirk and I just notice that I've been walking towards him this whole time.

I stop as I approach him, leaving a foot of crackling electricity between us. There is a moment where our eyes meet and our breaths deepen and we just stand there, seeing each other, and breathing in the promise of what our night can hold.

I can't believe we used to have a life like this, where we felt this every day.

"Mon Chere," his voice is as smooth as dark chocolate, "Yo' look sexy as hell."

"Remy," I bite my bottom lip, "Ah missed yah."

He reaches out a hand and takes mine in his own. He pulls my smaller body into his, wraps an arm around my back, dips me backwards, and presses his lips hard against mine.

His lips are perfect and everything about them feels perfect.

I'm breathless.

"Oh Remy," I throw my head back and find that I can't keep as quiet as I had hoped, "Oh Remy!"

He grunts in response as he works his arms around my body. His hips are thrusting had against me and I raise mine to meet him.

He rotates his hips slightly and everything inside me starts to coil. He's rocking his hips, pushing me into the bed and I can feel him so deep. My voice is ragged, "Oh faster, faster."

He listens and increases his speed. I open my eyes long enough to see the muscles corded tight in his arms. He's holding back. How gentlemanly of him.

I watch as a single bead of sweat starts to roll between his pectorals. I lean forward and lick it off of him, lapping his chest with my tongue.

As he grunts, he starts moving even faster. I'm not going to be able to take much more of this.

I close my ties and curl my toes. I find myself grasping at the sheets. All at once, I see stars behind my eyelids and feel the sweet relief of a satisfying release. My body feels loose and euphoric as the aftershocks of my orgasm make the way throughout. It's glorious.

My hips stop rocking up to meet his, but he moves harder against me as he moves to get to his own release.

I start to sit on the barstool next to him, but he immediately pulls me onto his lap. Thank goodness we're facing the bar, otherwise the length of my skirt would be embarrassing right now.

Almost as embarrassing as how much I forget to breath when I'm looking at this man.

There's a mojito on the bar in front of me, my favorite, and I can only assume Remy ordered it for me. I bring the glass to my lips and it's refreshing and delicious.

Remy on the other hand is nuzzling his nose up and down the length of my neck.

It's not exactly unusual for him. I mean we've had our fair share of PDA moments - and that's not even including public sex, but I'm still a bit surprised.

I mean, granted, with as hot as I look, I all ready knew that he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of me. And, really, I'm sitting on his lap. I all ready know he likes it.

I take another drink, and the booze is so cold despite the fact that I feel so hot, "Look like someone is happy to see meh."

I hear him laugh and he presses his lips to my neck, "Mo' den yo' know, Chere."

I stop for a moment to consider this.

"After dat night in 'Nawlins, yo've been all dat I could tink about."

Even more surprising. My head tilts to the side slightly in thought, and Remy takes the opportunity to kiss more of my neck. "That was two months ago."

He nods, "Too many months fo' sure."

I take another drink, but one thing is obvious, "Remy, it's clear yah don't want tah talk. If yah want tag get outta here, then let's just get out of here."

What? Don't look at me like that. I went into this night, into the bar, with no false pretenses. I know what would happen when I ran into Remy, I know what we would do together. I fell like there's no need to make unnessacery small talk if we're both ready to move onto sex anyway.

He laughs until his face settles on that ever-present smirk. "Cherie," He kisses me hard on the open mouth, "Yo are a girl after mon own heart."

He drops some bills on the bar and down the rest of my drink. He leads me outside and down the road.

It doesn't take long before we're in front of a nearby hotel.

He collapses on top of me, spent, sticky, and exhausted. He kisses my hair and then laughs out loud in exhaultation, "Mon dieu, Rogue, I don' know wat I do witout yo!"

His laughter is infectious, so I follow suit, despite the fact that my body is drained of energy, "Ah could say the same about yah, sugah."

Rolling to the side of me, we're now laying next to each other. His fingers are lightly stroking my shoulder and my skin starts to get cold because of all the sweat on my body.

He sighs, in sort of sated, satisfied way, "I could never give yo up. Noting is as good as dat." He grins, "Sometimes I don' kno why I sleep with anyone else. It's jus not de same, and it's jus not as good."

"Mehbeh the same reason Ah do," I shrug, "We don't see each other that often, Remy."

"True." His eyes brow crease and he looks like he's contemplating my statement. "We should see mo of each other."

Before I can respond his lips are on mine again, and his hand is burying itself into my hair.

"Yah have got to be kidding meh." I turn around to the man standing behind me and give him the flattest, driest look I can possibly manage, "What were you thinking?"

"Wat was I tinking?" He ushers me into the pink hotel room and shuts the door behind us. "It's Valentine's Day, dat's wat."

I look around the hotel room he rented for us; more like the monstrosity he rented for us. The room covered in red rose petals might be romantic if it weren't for the super tacky giant heart shaped bed in the middle.

I'm not joke. The bed is shaped unlike a normal human person rectangle, but in an honest to goodness heart. If that wasn't bad enough, the sheets on it are pink. Like Pepto pink.

Not cool.

Everything about it is tacky, overdone, and gross, and just so not Remy and myself.

What was he thinking?

I'm not sure what to say to him, he's smirking, but I don't know if he likes I love or hate it. "Yaht thought this is what Ah wanted for Valentine's Day?"

Does he know me at all?

The smirk hasn't moved and it's kind of pissing me off a little, "Tought yo would like it."

"Yah thought Ah would like this?" Has he lost him mind.

He breaks out into an easy grin and wraps an arm around my shoulders, "I tought yo would like it ironically."

With that, I crack a smile. Maybe he's right. I would never would to spend such an over done Hallmark holiday in some face suite somewhere with a heart shaped bed.

But if I did do so? It could very well be hilarious.

"Oh an one other ting." He's walking away from me and lifts a box off the bed that I didn't notice before,"Happy Valentine's Day, Rogue."

I giggle a bit in happiness; at least once I get the wrapper off see that the entire heart is filled with dark chocolate.

Delicious.

I roll over and look out the hotel window next to the bed. The sun hasn't come up yet and I wonder how late it really is. It's easy to loose track of time when you spend hours and hours making love.

I can't suppress my yawn, but I roll back the other way with the full intent of snuggling back into the warm, hard body next to me and going back to sleep.

I'm surprised to see an open pair of sleepy red on black eyes staring at me.

"Ah'm sorry," I shouldn't have done all that rolling around, "Didn't mean tah wake yah."

He shrugs, "It's fine, Chere." He leans towards me and kisses my temple, "Besides, I still have t' give yo' your gift."

I'm pretty sure his gift was a heart shaped box of chocolates. Of which I devoured the whole thing hours ago.

Well there was another gift too. I wiggle my sore hips and smirk, "Thought yah all ready gave meh yah gift, sugah."

It's easy to see the heat grow in his eyes at my implication. He winks at me, "More where dat came from, Chere."

I watch as he sits up, and grabs a small box from the nightstand and hands it to me.

I take off the lid and the only thing in the box is a key. "Don't tell meh," I gave him the same flat look I did when we walked in to this ridiculous hotel room, "It's the key tah your heart?"

He laughs out loud and shakes his heart ruefully. "Non, non, non!"

I stare at him and wait for him to explain, but it takes a moment for his laughter to die down.

"It's de key to yo new place." He nods, "Outside de city, but close enough t' catch de train."

"Yah," I blink at him, completely caught off guard," bought meh a house?"

He shrugs, "Figured yo would be graduating in a few months. Yo need a place t' stay den, so yo could work in they city."

I'm still looking at him incredulously, "So yah bought meh a house?"

"Non," He shakes his head once and gives me that rueful smile again, "I bought us a house."

I pull myself towards him so I can kiss him on the mouth, on the chin, on the face, wherever I can. I'm not sure how this makes me feel, but every instinct in my body is yelling at me to kiss him and be close to him, so that's what I do.

He smiles, but I know he's waiting for me to say something.

So I say the only thing I know, "Ah love yah."

That cheeky smile is back, "Ironically?"

"Yup," I nod, "Ironically, figuratively, literally. Any way Ah can."

It's like I said earlier, that kind of spontaneity? The inability to predict anything that will happen between Remy and I?

Well, that's what makes us great.

Happy Valentine's Day, Ladies and gents!

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