All right everyone, this is a remake of my story A Little Something Special, just written without the accent. I had requests for this from a few people, so I finally broke down and did it. I hope you guys like it! I'll be posting up the chapters as I get them fixed :) It takes a bit to remove the accent and spell check along the way. Hopefully I get it all. If I miss a word, please, let me know! Now, for those of you that are new to this and haven't attempted to read the other version of this, I'm going to put up the same AN here that I put there. Here you go!:

This story is considered AU for a few reasons right now. One, I'm taking a little bit of liberty with Spencer's past. I mean, come on, who doesn't, right? It's so open in places that it's just left to interpretation! Also, in my world here, couples can actually be homosexual, and those homosexual couples can marry. Gasp. I know, shocking, right? Psh. Sorry. I'll climb off my soapbox now. This is not the place for that kind of rant ;)

Anyways! Here's the thing that's going to bother some people and so I want to get it out right here and right now. This is a Spencer/Remy slash story—but there is absolutely NO OTHER X-MEN in this story. NO MUTATIONS. NO MAGIC POWERS. This is my take on a Remy LeBeau, as I think he would be if he was a normal person, no mutation or magic or anything like that involved. Basically, the character is mine, but he has the looks, name, and partial past of the Remy LeBeau in the comics. So, let me state now so I don't get in trouble, I do not own Marvel, X-Men, or Remy LeBeau. (Nor do I own Criminal Minds or any of its characters—I wish!) So, really, for those X-Men people who are saying "Yay! An X-Men fic!" sorry :P For those that are CM fans that saw the X-Men label and started to panic, don't worry. It's not a part of the story. I just really happen to like the Remy/Spencer pairing and I've done Spencer in the Mutant world, area, genre…whatever. Now, it's Remy's turn to venture into the fan world of Criminal Minds. Squee! Enjoy.

Oh, and I promise, my writing style in the story is much better and less weird than the style in my AN, lol. My AN are just jumbled thoughts. The writing, that's actual story that I, you know, proofread and such.

Despite his earlier protests, Spencer had to admit that he was enjoying himself just a little bit. He leaned against the wall and smiled as he watched his friends joke and laugh around the pool table. Derek, Penelope, Emily and JJ had all gained up on him tonight and decided that he needed to get out of his apartment. Though only Derek knew how bad it had gone, the others knew that Spencer had come out of a relationship three months earlier. Since then, he hadn't really gone out all that often. Apparently that was unacceptable. When he reminded them that they all worked long, busy hours, he was unceremoniously told that it was no excuse for not getting 'back out there'.

In their effort to get him out and socializing, the group had swung by his apartment and kidnapped him. But not before the girls picked out his clothes for the night and forced him into the bathroom to change, threatening to change him themselves if he didn't do it himself. He'd never changed his clothes so fast before. Then they'd piled into two different cars and come to this bar that JJ said Will had introduced her to. It was a Cajun themed bar called Lagniappe. Spencer had to admit the bar was much better than many they'd gone to. Stepping inside was kind of like stepping into a piece of New Orleans right here in DC without going overboard like some places did when they tried to create New Orleans themed places. Of course, there were pool tables and dart boards, just like any other bar, and music played around them with that particular Cajun sound to it. A board at one wall showed a schedule that said they had live bands on Wednesday and Friday nights. There were lights and color all around, giving it more of a feel of a night club in some ways than a bar.

On one wall was a giant mural of New Orleans that was beautifully painted. Spencer had stared at it for a while when they'd first come in. There were other paints too, different parts of the city. With the bar against one wall, the rest of the bar/club was open, tables placed here and there and waitresses—or were they barmaids?—going to take drink orders and clean up empties. There was a stage to the far end where he imagined the band would play when they were there. This was a place with quite a bit of atmosphere and he could see why people seemed to enjoy coming here. JJ said the place was generally busy whenever she and Will came.

So far, Spencer was having a good time. He'd already won two games of pool and was just about to win his third. That last bit had him smiling a little to himself. He stepped up to the table after Emily missed her shot and he quickly looked the table over, calculating everything in his head. He had two balls and then the eight ball left on the table. With years' worth of practice, he shut out the noise around him and bent himself over his task.

Moments later he straightened up, a grin on his face, watching as the eight ball went right into the pocket he'd called. While Emily groaned and the others laughed, Spencer scooped up the money off the side of the table, grinning widely. "Good game, Prentiss." He complimented her.

"Yeah, yeah." She mock glowered at him. "I think Reid's done playing for now."

"Playing? Hustling is more like it." Derek teased him.

The amusement on his face only brightened, making the others smile as well. This had been their goal of the night. They'd wanted to get Spencer out and get him smiling again. It seemed like he didn't do it often enough anymore. Hell, with everything that had happened lately, with Spencer recovering from knee surgery and everything with Aaron and Foyet, none of them were smiling much. It was all finally done, everything with Foyet finished, and Spencer was off his cane, yet they were all still recovering. This night wasn't just good for Spencer; it was good for them all. They needed to get away from the murder and depravity every now and again and remind themselves that they were all human.

Passing off his pool stick, Spencer looked around at his friends. "Anyone need a refill?" He offered. No one took him up on it. "Well, I'll be right back, then." He started to make his way toward the bar, listening to JJ declare "All right, my turn. Who's up for getting beat?"

Before heading to the bar, Spencer detoured to the bathroom. He took a moment to take care of business and to splash a little water on his face. Looking in the mirror, he couldn't help but smile. He was glad he'd let them bring him out tonight. This was good for him. Much better than sitting alone in his apartment yet again. He hadn't realized how much of a funk he'd been in. Sure, he knew his breakup with Paul had taken its toll on him. How could it not? Just thinking about it was enough to bring the hurt and anger back to life inside of him. Before it could grow, he shook his head and forced it back down, determined not to let it color the rest of his night. He was here with friends to have a good time, not to think about Paul. They'd broken up three months ago and he hadn't seen the man in over a month. He was not going to let him ruin this for him.

Unfortunately, fate had a different plan entirely. Just as Spencer left the bathroom, he heard his name. When he lifted his head he froze at the sight of the person moving toward him. There was no denying who that was. He hadn't instantly recognized the voice, but he knew that face. Knew those bright blue eyes. "Paul?" Holy shit. He couldn't believe it. Paul was here? Paul was really here?

At one point in time, Spencer had found Paul to be an attractive man. How could he not? Just a few inches shorter than Spencer, he was a little more solid than the young genius, though nowhere near as physically fit as someone like Derek. His blond hair was kept short, yet it suited his face, bringing out those eyes that were a bright, sky blue. From the first moment they'd met he had been a charming individual. He'd courted Spencer, taking him out on dates, drawing the shy young man out of his shell. Spencer had been hesitant about the whole dating scene and he'd been unsure of Paul at first. However, as time went on he fell for him a little more and a little more. When they'd taken that physical step, it had been great. Not the most soul shattering, yet still, great. Spencer had been happy. Until the day he'd answered Paul's cell phone by mistake while the man was in his shower and had found himself speaking to a woman who claimed she was Paul's wife. The fight that had come when Paul was out of the shower was burned into Spencer's memory.

"Spencer!" Paul stepped around one last person and then he was right there in front of Spencer, face to face for the first time in a month. "I thought I saw you back this way."

Spencer instinctively took a step back from him. "What're you doing here, Paul?"

"It's a public bar, isn't it?"

It was a logical answer and a very valid point, yet it felt off. Spencer looked at a face he'd once thought he was falling in love with and he saw something else flash over the features that had his stomach clenching. "Did you follow me here?" The words were out before he could think about it. As soon as he said them, he knew he was right. The 'oh shit' look that briefly lit Paul's eyes was only confirmation. Jesus. He'd followed him here! How much had he been following him? It had been bad enough when Paul had kept calling and he'd had to get his number changed. But to start following him? Spencer licked his lips and wished suddenly that one of his friends would come looking for him.

Paul's expression turned innocent. He reached a hand out to brush over Spencer's cheek as he'd done countless times before. When Spencer jerked back, his hand froze and then dropped. "I just want to talk to you. You never answered my calls or my letters."

"Because I told you, this is over. I'm not going to do this with you. Not here, not now. Not ever." He'd tried being nice, he'd tried being calm about all of this. He'd tried to be the bigger person. But now…now he just felt angry. Angry and just a tiny bit afraid. "This is stalking, Paul. You can't be doing this. You cannot follow me like this."

"I just want to talk to you. If you'd just answer your calls. But you changed your number…"

"Of course I did. There's nothing to talk about." With great control, Spencer forced the words back, shaking his head. He was not going to do this. Not here, out in public like this. Not ever. He'd been this route and he wasn't going to go down it again. "I'm not doing this. We're done, Paul. Leave me alone, please. Don't make this any more difficult than it already is." That said, he turned to leave. He was stopped by a hand suddenly gripping his bicep, holding him in place. When he looked over, Paul had stepped close and was glaring at him, holding him by his arm. "Now dammit, Spencer, would you just listen to me?"

"Let go of me."

"Not until you listen. Would you just let me explain things?"

He couldn't believe it! Explain things? Paul wanted to explain things? "I don't need an explanation. You have a wife! Go home to her and leave me alone."

"Sandy and I aren't together anymore, Spencer!"

"As if that makes it okay?" He let out a dry, humorless laugh, all his earlier good cheer gone. All he wanted now was to get free and then get home. He wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere that he wouldn't have to stare at a person he'd thought he could trust. "I am not going to do this. Let. Me. Go."

The grip on his arm tightened enough that Spencer winced and wondered if there were going to be bruises later. "Why won't you listen to me?" Paul demanded.

Spencer was seriously contemplating just opening his mouth and screaming to draw someone's attention towards them when a hard voice suddenly spoke up in a thick Cajun drawl at their side. "Is there a problem over here?"

"No" Paul snapped at the same time that Spencer said "Yes!" and tried to jerk his arm free.

The man that had come up to them now took another step forward, turning to face Paul, his back to Spencer. "I suggest you let go of him. Now."

"Listen, buddy, why don't you butt out? My partner and I are talking here."

Paul's words seemed to roll right off the guy. He straightened up so that he stood at his full height, taller than the both of them, and he looked down at Paul. "It sure don't look like he wants to talk to you. Now either let go, or I'll call security over here to do it for you."

The grip on Spencer's arm loosened just the slightest bit from Paul's shock and the young agent took full advantage of the moment to jerk his arm free. Quickly he interjected himself between the two. "Security won't be necessary." He reassured the man. Then he flashed hard eyes to Paul. "Go home, Paul. Go back to Sandy." That said, Spencer turned to walk away. The man who'd come up now moved with him as if to make sure he was going to safely make it out of there. When they cleared the hall, the man touched his arm and gestured to the bar. "C'mon, let me get you a drink. On the house. You look like you could use it."

Honestly, he could. Spencer just nodded and followed him up toward the bar. They each took a seat off toward the end, away from some of the others. While his companion lifted a hand to signal the bartender, Spencer looked over and watched as Paul stormed his way across the bar and toward the door. God, this was just one hell of an addition to his night, wasn't it? Why'd he have to run into Paul? You're going to have to do something about him. The calls were bad enough. But now he's following you places. You know that's not healthy. He's turning into a stalker. There was no denying the signs; not for a profiler. The only question was, what was he going to do about it?

A drink was suddenly being pressed into his hands, drawing his attention and making him startle slightly. His rescuer just held the glass steady and folded Spencer's long fingers around it. His expression was kind and his voice was gentle. "Here. Take a drink or two. It'll help to steady your nerves a little."

"Oh. Uh, thank you." Spencer took his advice, taking a drink off his glass without even bothering to look and see what was in it. The slow burn of good whiskey slid down his throat and into his stomach. After two drinks, he did feel a little steadier. However, that left room for embarrassment to start to slip in. He couldn't believe he'd had to have someone come up and save him from that. It was mortifying! Looking over his rescuer, Spencer thought that the man must be employed here, even if he didn't wear anything that labeled him an employee. He was just dressed in what looked like nice, dark jeans and a long sleeved black shirt with a red short sleeved shirt over it. But none of it carried the bar name on it. A manager, maybe? He carried himself with a certain confidence inside this place that suggested he was connected in here somehow and he'd offered the drink 'on the house'. Keeping that in mind, Spencer nervously looked up, flushing only slightly. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to create any kind of trouble here."

A smile curved the man's lips, warming his face, making Spencer realize just how attractive of a face it was. Moss green eyes were locked on him and they held kindness to them, accented nicely by high cheekbones most girls would kill for. There were hints of lines at the edges of his eyes that came with his smile, telling Spencer he was someone who liked to smile a lot. "Didn't exactly look like you was the one causing trouble there, really."

"Well, either way, thank you." Manners kicked in and he added on "I'm, ah, I'm Spencer, by the way. Spencer Reid."

"Remy LeBeau." The Cajun replied. He executed a seated bow that had Spencer's lips curving. Okay, charming, too.

Spencer was a little more relaxed now and desperately wanted to change the topic off of this embarrassing situation. So he battered past the usual nerves that came at talking to someone new and he tried to steer the conversation away from this. "It's nice to meet you. Do you, um, work here?"

To his surprise, Remy let out a husky chuckle. The handsome Cajun adjusted in his seat, turning his body so that he was facing Spencer more fully. His expression was open and friendly in a way that drew Spencer in. "You could say that." Remy picked up his own drink off the bar, what looked to be a simple soda, and he hid a smile behind it. "I own the place, but I come here and work just like any of my employees. I believe no one should own something they aint prepared to work for."

So he'd been right. Remy was connected here. Just, as more than a manager. Spencer moved his drink to one hand and turned his chair so he could lean a little more comfortably against the bar. "Well, let me say that you have a wonderful place here."

"Merci. It's a nice taste of home for me. You should see the nights we get the local zydeco band up on stage. There's just something about good zydeco music that gets your body moving, oui?"

Without thinking about it, Spencer found himself doing what he always did—rambling. Facts came pouring past his lips. "Did you know that, though it's argued by some, it's commonly suggested that Zydeco derives from the French phrase Les haricots ne sont pas sales, which, when spoken in the Louisiana Creole French, sounds as 'leh-zy-dee-co sohn pah salayou. This literally translates as 'the snap beans aren't salty' but idiomatically as 'I have no spicy news for you.' Alternatively the term has been given the meaning 'I'm so poor, I can't afford any salt meat for the beans.' The earliest recorded use of the term may have been the country and western musical group called Zydeco Skillet Lickers who recorded the song It Ain't Gonna Rain No Mo in 1929." As soon as he realized he was rambling, he cut himself off, a flush filling his cheeks.

However, Remy didn't look the least bit bothered by his fact spewing. If anything, he looked…interested. "Really? I never really thought about where the name came from."

That was all the encouragement that Spencer needed to continue. "There's an alternative theory that suggests the term derives from the Atakapa Indians, who's forcibly enslaved women were well known for forming marital unions with male African slaves in the early 1700s. The Atakapa word for dance is 'shi' and their word for 'the youths' is 'ishol'. Spaniards in 1528 were the first Europeans to contact the Atakapa and they translated 'shi ishol' as 'zy ikol'. Four hundred years later, the mixed-blood descendants of Atakapas and Africans still do the synchronized swaying to the raucous music, but with a slightly evolved name: Zydeco." He paused and took a drink off his glass, his cheeks still a little pink. Not quite sure if Remy's look was stunned or curious, Spencer shrugged in embarrassment and said "Sorry. I tend to ramble a little sometimes."

"Non, non." Remy hurried to say. "I don't mind. I was just surprised that you know so much about the music. I didn't even know any of that."

"Oh. I read a book once when I was down in New Orleans for work."

The mention of that town definitely peaked Remy's interest. "Work took you to New Orleans? What kind of work are you in?"

His earlier moment with Paul was getting pushed further and further to the back of his mind. Here with this handsome man to talk with, who actually seemed to be genuinely interested in what Spencer had to say, he found he wasn't thinking of his encounter in the hallway. All of his attention was focusing on his new companion. "I'm a profiler with the BAU. That's the behavioral analysis unit in the FBI."

For once, when Spencer said he was an FBI agent, the person he told didn't look surprised. Usually people looked at him as if he were joking when he said that. Not Remy. If anything, he looked impressed. "What exactly is it that a profiler does?"

The question held honest interest in it that Spencer responded to. "We study human behavior…" And he launched into an explanation of what exactly it was that a profiler did. He'd intended on only giving a basic description but Remy asked questions, drawing more and more out of him, until Spencer found himself deeply engrossed in a discussion on profiling. He gave a few examples, telling him about past cases, and Remy asked more questions, seeming honestly interested in the answers. Never before had Spencer had someone who not only was actually listening to everything he said, but was asking for more! In a description of one case, Spencer happened to mention something that involved his memory and before he knew it, he was telling Remy about his memory and his degrees and how he was the youngest agent to join the BAU. Usually that kind of information embarrassed him to admit. However, he had no problem with it now.

How much time passed, he had no idea. He didn't even notice when his friends looked around for him, concerned that he hadn't come back, or when they finally spotted him. If he had seen, he would've been embarrassed by the way Penelope pointed him out and Derek grinned widely at what he saw. None of the others thought anything of Spencer talking to someone strange at the bar. Only Derek guessed there was anything behind it. Spencer was too caught up in talking with Remy to notice anything else at all, really. Conversation just seemed to flow between them. Talk of his education had led to Remy talking about his own education, surprising Spencer when he told him that he had a Master's degree in Fine Arts, something that seemed out of place for a bar owner.

When he said as much, Remy nodded. "Oui, it is. I used to dream about being an artist one day. About selling my paintings, making a name for myself."

"So how'd you end up in DC of all places, running a bar?" Spencer's curious question caused Remy to grimace slightly and the young genius reacted instinctively, flushing a little and hurrying to stammer out "Oh, I-I don't mean to pry or anything like that. You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I'm sorry. That's none of my business. I mean…"

"Spencer." Remy reached out and laid a hand on Spencer's knee, the casual touch stunning Spencer into silence. He cut off the stream of words and looked down at Remy's hand as it drew off his knee. Then he looked back up and found himself held by those striking green eyes once more. "You don't got nothing to apologize for. You didn't ask anything inappropriate. It's just, you seem real nice and this…this is usually the part that scares people off and you seem like a nice man. Someone I'd really like to get to know. I don't wanna scare you off." Drawing his hands back in, Remy folded them in his lap and sighed. "But it's better to get it out now if that's gonna happen. So, here goes. I gave up painting and bought this business because I fell in love."

That hadn't been what Spencer had expected. He sat silently, sipping off the last of his drink, his eyes on Remy. Something told him there was more to this story. Remy's words that this 'scared people off' had him worrying, yet he waited quietly, promising himself that he wouldn't make any quick judgment. He watched Remy nervously tuck a strand of auburn hair behind his ear, one of the first nervous gestures he'd seen from him.

After a pause, Remy finally continued. "I went home after I got my degree and I met a woman there. Belle and I, it was all flash and fire. I was young. Stupid. We got married after just a month. Our families, they didn't approve of us, so we took all our cash and we hopped in the car and we ended up here of all places. I got a job here when it was just a regular bar, bussing tables. Took a bit but I moved up to bartender. Stocked away more and more money, saving up so we could go to Paris and I could study more for my art. Then…then Belle got pregnant."

Pregnant? Oh, man. Spencer's eyes widened slightly but he still said nothing.

"Everything changed with that. There was no more going to Paris, no more traveling. The bar came up for sale when Belle was just about due and I took the money we'd saved for Paris and I bought the place, wanting to get myself a steady income so I could support my wife and child, and with what was left I renovated the place and gave it a new name. But, Belle and I, we were fighting by then. This was so much more than we'd thought. We tried to keep things together once our son was born but the love was gone. The longer we stayed together, the angrier we got with one another. So, when Andrei turned one, we got a divorce. He just turned five a month ago. They still live in DC and Belle and I are amis now, the way it should be, and I get my son every other weekend and she lets me come see him whenever I want." Story done, Remy lifted his chin, very obviously bracing himself for Spencer's reaction. It was easy to see that he was braced for a negative reaction.

This was quite a story to take in, especially with someone that he barely knew. It surprised Spencer that Remy had come right out with all of this right up front. There weren't many people that would willingly tell so much of their life to someone that they just met. However, he could see the logic in it, in a way. From what Remy had said at the start, finding out he had a son had apparently scared people off before. Maybe in his mind it was easier to just get this all out right up front around people than wait until later and have them run away then. That was something he could understand and respect. Though it did leave the implication that Remy hoped to see him again beyond tonight. That thought put a warm feeling low in his stomach. He barely knew the man, but the idea of seeing him again had Spencer wanting to smile. He found he liked that idea. He wanted to see him again. And he could admit that, if they did see each other again, he would've been bothered finding out all of this further down the road. It was nice to have it right out in the open this way.

That warm feeling in his stomach grew and Spencer smiled shyly. "It's nice that you two can be friends. That'll make it easier on your son as he grows."

Surprise flittered over Remy's face. Then his expression smoothed out and his eyes warmed. A relieved smile stretched his lips. "We work much better as amis." He paused and his smile grew a little bit. He gave a soft shake of his head. "You're not quite like anyone I've met, Spencer. That's quite a story I just dumped on you from someone you barely know. Most people wouldn't still be sitting there."

"I admire your honesty and I'm enjoying our conversation. Why would I leave?"

Remy chuckled and shook his head again. He reached out, giving Spencer's knee a quick squeeze. "Like I said, you're not quite like anyone I've met."

Heat filled Spencer's cheeks. Before he could stammer out anything, JJ slipped through the crowd and stepped up beside him. "Excuse me." She said politely toward them. Then she turned her smile toward Spencer. "Hey, Spence, I hate to cut in but we're all packing it in."

Disappointment hit first. He didn't want to leave yet. He was enjoying talking with Remy and he was enjoying the first real attraction he'd felt since Paul. Automatically he looked over at the man and he was surprised to see just a tiny hint of shyness on his face. Remy fiddled slightly with his glass but he kept his eyes on Spencer. "You know, if you want, I could give you a ride home."

There was something in that question, an invitation that Spencer had rarely ever heard turned his direction. "Are you sure?" Spencer's question carried a double meaning as well.

Remy didn't hesitate to answer. "Oui. I'm very sure."

He looked at Remy and felt his lips curve slightly. "I'd like that."

JJ gave Spencer a curious look. She didn't protest his choice though. Simply gave him a quick hug and said she'd see him the next day at work. The two men didn't break eye contact as she walked away. Spencer's agreement seemed to have taken some of Remy's shyness away and that confidence that had been there earlier was back. Not cockiness. No, just a look of someone who was comfortable inside of his own skin. It was an attractive quality. It also served to settle the little bit of nerves in Spencer's stomach. He smiled back. By some mutual agreement, the two silently finished their drinks and rose from their seats. It surprised Spencer completely when Remy took his hand and held it, leading him through the crowd of people and over to the front door.

The cool night air hit Spencer, almost instantly making him shiver. He stepped just a little closer to Remy's side, enjoying the hand that was still in his. The skin against skin was making him shiver in an entirely different way. Was he really doing this? Was he really going to take this man back to his place? One night stands were not his thing. Sure, he got lonely, just like everyone else did. When that need to feel alive, to just be touched by someone, had gotten too strong, he'd done the one-night stand thing once or twice and they'd just never left him with a good feeling. He eventually figured he just wasn't the type to enjoy himself unless there was a relationship there. Yet here he was, preparing to take someone home knowing full well what was going to happen, and he didn't feel any honest worry about it. He wasn't nervous either. At least, not nervous about his decision. He felt right in his decision. He was nervous about how it would go. When it came to his own body and his ability to please, he was always a little nervous.

"So, where exactly do you live at?"

Spencer turned to look at him and saw Remy watching his face. Flushing, he looked down at his feet while he rattled off his answer.

Remy stopped them alongside a motorcycle and Spencer swore he felt the muscles in his stomach quiver. He was already feeling the anticipation. What was it going to do to ride pressed up against the back of him on this machine?

Letting go of Spencer's hand, Remy moved around the bike to the car beside it. He unlocked the trunk and pulled out two helmets. "It's a good thing I brought Missy in to work. I got a spare helmet on me today." He turned and held one out toward Spencer, smiling at him. "Jimmy'll take her home. He lets me store the helmets here in his trunk when I'm here. You ever ride before?"

"Yes." He took the helmet and swallowed past the little lump in his throat. In a moment he would be on that machine with his body intimately pressed against the back of Remy's. Good God.

Heat and humor both flashed in Remy's eyes as if he could guess what Spencer was thinking. He shut the trunk and pulled his own helmet on before climbing onto the bike. Spencer stared down at him for a moment, admiring the lean form. For the first time he noticed that Remy's auburn hair hung a bit below his shoulders and was pulled into a ponytail. His eyes drifted down, taking him all in. While Remy looked slender, he was nowhere near as slender as Spencer was. There was definite muscle underneath those clothes.

The sound of the bike starting drew Spencer out of his thoughts. This is your last chance to walk away. If you don't want to do this, walk away now. Otherwise, get on that bike. For once, do something you want, not what you think you should or you think you have to. Do something for YOU. You want this man and he wants you and there is nothing wrong with doing something to keep back the loneliness for a night, so long as you're safe about it. He took a deep breath and pulled the helmet on his head. There was no way he was walking away now. He climbed onto the bike behind Remy, arms going around his waist to hold on, and it took everything he had to keep from making a sound when his body pressed up against the other man's. Then Remy was taking his hands, pulling him closer and making sure he had a firm grip against his stomach, and Spencer's body was pressed flush up against him. As the bike took off into the night, Spencer battled to keep himself in control. It was going to be a long, torturous, wonderful ride.