Be My Lover, My Lady River

You’re perched on the edge of his desk, Aaron standing between your spread legs, and your sleek pencil skirt bunched up around your hips as he had two fingers plunged deep into your pussy.

You had thought everyone had gone for lunch and that you had plenty of time to flirt with your boyfriend a little, tease him after he had teased you this morning.

You didn’t expect amusement to flash across his face, nor the way his eyes slightly narrowed as he beckoned you around the desk with a tilt of his chin. You were already soaked, your panties uncomfortably wet all day, so it didn’t take much convincing for you when his hands trailed up your thighs to shove the fabric of your skirt up.

You have your back facing the door, your head tilted back and your mouth open around a strangled moan because you were right on that fucking edge, so you don’t notice something’s amiss until you hear a familiar voice.

“Hotch, I found those—oh my god!”

Your head snaps up, your legs immediately closing around Aaron’s wrist where he pauses, and you barely crane your neck around in time to see the door slam shut. There’s the quick click-clack sounds of someone’s, Emily’s, boots down the hall that grow fainter and fainter with each second. It eventually disappears, and the only sound that fills the room is the thudding of your pulse in your ears.

“Should we…?” You whisper after a beat of silence.

“Should we what?” His breath fans hotly over your face, his hand spread wide over the sliver of skin from your shirt being hurriedly untucked merely ten minutes ago.

“Should we go after her?” You’re distantly aware that his fingers are still inside of you and your panties were dangling from your ankle. You squirm in his hold.

Aaron notices, pausing. There’s the tiniest flicker of interest in his eyes before he’s shoving your thighs apart with his arm, stepping further into your space until your knees are propped open by his hips. The action causes his fingers to shift inside of you and you make a small noise. You adjust from where you’re still perched on the edge of his desk, the surface slick from a lewd combination of your sweat and wetness.

You’re dripping, soaking his fingers and the insides of your thighs, and your face burns and pulse stutters when Aaron slowly and curiously begins fucking his fingers inside of you. Your eyes flutter shut as the filthy noise of your cunt fills the room, your head dropping back between your shoulders as he grazes that spot inside of you that has your thighs trembling.

“I think you’d rather stay right here,” he says, voice infuriatingly even despite the obvious shape of his hard cock through his slacks, precum starting to leak through the fabric.

And he’s right; you would spend all day here if you could. The voices outside grow louder, footsteps thudding outside his office door increasing, and Aaron’s hand quickens as you get wetter. You knew if you glanced down, you’d see the evidence of your arousal smeared all over his thick fingers, and your clit throbs when you hear Derek and Spencer walking past while arguing about something.

He whispers something against your ear, breath hot against your warm skin. You come harder than you ever had in months—your teeth digging into your bottom lip to keep from crying out and your back bowing, forehead nearly bumping into Aaron’s shoulder as he keeps your thighs propped open as his thumb grazes your clit. Your ears burn, breath stuck in your chest as his words rattle inside your brain.

“Maybe someone else will walk in and see how pretty you take my fingers.”

When you make your way back to your desk, you resolutely ignore Emily’s gaze. You’re secretly glad that there wasn’t a case today, not sure if you could deal with being stuck on the jet sitting across from her or sharing a hotel room. You’re more than happy to avert your gaze and pretend like you were focusing on your paperwork for the rest of the day.

You and Emily were close, but certainly not that close. Sure, you’ve told her and Penelope all the raunchy details of your sex life after a drink or two, but her stumbling upon you in a compromising position, in the office, was a whole other thing entirely.  

You’re grateful that things seem to have gone back to normal, the incident quietly brushed under a rug, when Emily gives you that bright smile and says good morning to you the following day. Aaron brushes his fingers against yours when the two of you make your way into the conference room, silently telling you I told you so and there was nothing to worry about.

Until one day, you get home from running errands on your one free Saturday to find Aaron standing in the middle of the bedroom and Emily sitting in that comfy armchair neatly tucked in the corner.

“Oh,” you say, setting your bag down by the door. You don’t hide your confusion well, glancing back and forth at them. There’s a respectable distance between them, both of their bodies angled towards you, and you know neither of them were those types of people, but you couldn’t help it when your heart begins to thud just a tad bit faster. “Emily, I didn’t know you were coming over.”

Emily casually leans back against the chair, the stretch of her jeans over her thighs and the low cut of her top briefly catching your eye before meeting her gaze. She’s smiling, all cat-like and languid. If you didn’t know her so well, you wouldn’t have noticed the slight nervous furrow of her brow. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

You frown, feeling spectacularly like you were missing out on some kind of inside joke. “Surprise for what?”

“For you, sweetheart,” Aaron finally speaks before he’s stepping into your space with one long stride.

What happens next has to be the surprise because he does something that he very rarely does in front of people, much less the rest of the team.

He wraps an arm around your waist, hand ghosting over the small of your back, leaning in and capturing your lips in a kiss so hungry that you began to debate whether you imagined Emily there in the first place.

But she’s still there at the corner of your eye, glowing softly underneath the golden hue of a lamp while Aaron’s soft lips move against yours, his hand drifting lower until his pinky finger is dipping underneath the waistband of your shorts and setting your skin ablaze.

“What do you mean for me?” You manage when you separate, your hands tensing around Aaron’s thick forearms. You’re not sure whether you want to push him away or pull him in closer.

“Aaron told me you liked it when I walked in on you the other day.”

You’re stunned into silence, realization dawning on you as your cheeks catch on fire and your chest tightens as if all the air had been zapped out of the room. Sharp embarrassment curls up your spine at the fact that not only was she bringing up what you were secretly hoping carry to your grave, but Aaron had noticed and actually brought it up to her.

“Uhm,” you say intelligently, feeling stuck to the carpet.

You were mortified to realize that, not only were you seconds away from sprinting out the house, but you were also aroused. You can feel the heavy weight of Emily’s eyes on you; can sense the way warmth snakes rapidly down your spine until it settles wet and sticky in the thin fabric of your panties.

Aaron must mistake your shock as hesitation because he takes a half-step back, hands placed politely on your hips and thumbs pressed into you, grounding you. He presses his mouth against your temple, breath warm against your face. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Aaron has always been a generous partner; always making sure to take care of you first, that you’re comfortable, and clearly willing to try anything at least once, so you know he’s right. He wouldn’t care if you said no and would most likely just politely walk Emily to the front door and pretend like nothing happened. As if he didn’t just proposition your coworker and friend to watch the two of you have sex.

You love Emily and you’d be lying if you didn’t find her attractive. Her big, brown eyes and the hypnotizing sway of her hips. The way she’s currently sitting in your bedroom with her legs spread and cherry red lips, trying to appear nonchalant. You want to say no, that you don’t want to ruin what you have with either of them, that everyone at the office will find out eventually, but…

“Okay,” you breath, your pulse quickening when Aaron’s hands tighten around your waist. “I want to.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Aaron says, voice careful despite the enticing press of his cock through his sweatpants. He seems to enjoy the idea almost as much as you do.

Emily shifts in her seat, sitting up a bit straighter, and blinds you with a devastatingly soft smile. “We can go as slow as you want.”

You nod, your hands nearly shaking as you run them up Aaron’s arms, his biceps, until you’re looping them around his shoulders and your fingers are tangling in the slight damp hairs at the nape of his neck. There’s a matching sheen of sweat gathering at your hairline, the temperature in the room suddenly notched an additional ten degrees, and you’re already itching to take your clothes off.

“I got you,” he mutters, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as the low timbre of his voice soothes your anxious heart.

You nearly jump when the telltale creak of that armchair reaches your ears and you let out a surprised noise when he begins to press kisses to the corner of your mouth, your jawline, and then to the soft, exposed skin of your neck.

Your eyes flutter, head tipping back to allow him easier access to nip at the hollow of your throat. His large hands freely roam over you now, as if a thread had finally snapped, leaving licks of heat along your spine as he grabs at your ass to pull you closer into him.

You gasp when the heat of his cock presses into your hipbone, instinctively looking over Aaron’s shoulder and catching Emily’s gaze.

Her dark eyes are intense as they roam over your body, licking her lips as she watches the two of you. Her chest begins to heave, breathing growing harsher, and you swear you could see the stiff peaks of her nipples through her shirt.

You have to squeeze your eyes shut at the absolute throbbing of your clit, the slick fabric of your panties now rubbing uncomfortably against your thighs. The incident in the office pales in comparison to now, knowing that Emily actually wants to watch you, craves it, was getting turned on by it.

“There she is,” he coos, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. “Are you going to let Emily see just how good you are?”

You swallow nervously, opening your eyes and noticing the way she’s leaned back further in the chair, something smug tugging at her mouth. One of her hands was placed precariously on her inner thigh, the other splayed out on the armrest. Making herself comfortable, as if she was watching a show.

You nod, blood rushing through your ears as your shirt comes off, your shorts immediately crumpling to the floor with a quick flick of Aaron’s finger, leaving you in nothing but a very plain and mismatching pair of bra and panties.

You don’t have to reflect on your poor decision any further as Aaron’s hand swiftly comes around you to unclasp your bra. There’s a soft thud as it hits the carpet, then a sharp inhale across the room and a familiar low groan as your breasts are freed. Your nipples have probably been hard as soon as you noticed Emily in the intimate space of your bedroom, and you shift nervously in place as you could feel the weight of two pairs of eyes on your chest and soft skin of your thighs.

An intoxicating haze falls over your thoughts, slowing them to thick honey, as you realize that you were nearly completely bare in front of the two most attractive people you’ve ever met. They were still clothed, staring at you as if they were mere seconds away from devouring you whole.

The fog grows heavier, your knees nearly buckling and your breath punching out of your lungs when Aaron steps back and says, “Isn’t she pretty?”

You shiver, goosebumps rising on your arms and heat humming underneath your skin, when Emily speaks, voice low and warm. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous.”

The praise hits you hard, settling warm in the pit of your stomach, and you think you’re going to go insane if you didn’t have someone’s hands on you at this very second.

“On the bed,” Aaron orders after taking in your wide eyes and your tense shoulders. “We have to give our audience a good view, don’t we?”

The way they’re both talking to you, about you, has that ache between your thighs growing stronger, your teeth digging into your bottom lip harder. It was heady, the surge of compliance pulsing through you, as you silently perch on the edge of the bed.

Now you were directly facing Emily. You feel a flush rising up to your face as she stares at the swell of your breasts and the softness of your belly. Shyness prickles at your neck as you tuck your knees together, the barely there friction of your thighs doing nothing to quell the arousal sticking to your panties.

Aaron steps in front of you, and you’re about to whine about him blocking your view of her, before he’s prying your knees apart with those broad hands of his and kneeling between them.

You blink at him, stunned, as you spread your legs further to accommodate the broad shape of his shoulders. The sight of Aaron on his knees for you never gets old—the way the soft light hits his eyes just right, the dusting of pink on his cheeks just barely visible, and how he just seems sweeter, gentler, when he’s where he’s claimed is his favorite place to be.

But you realize he isn’t that nice tonight as he glances up at you, pressing a chaste kiss on the inside of your knee. He kneads at your thighs before pushing them up until your feet were propped up on the edge of the mattress, effectively spreading you open for anyone to see.

A choked noise escapes from your throat when he puffs his warm breath over your clothed pussy. The fabric sticks to your folds, your wetness nearly seeping through and leaving a visible stain, and your hands fists the soft cotton of your sheets as you hear a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the room.

“Are you going to show Emily how pretty your pussy is?”

“Fuck,” you whisper shakily, your thighs beginning to tremble from anticipation.

He studies you as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, eyes earnest despite the widening of his pupils. Checking in with you—there was no going back now.

You swallow and wordlessly raise your hips up.

Aaron tries to suppress a proud smile, leaning in to kiss the underside of your thigh as he slides the flimsy piece of fabric over your legs. He tosses them aside, somewhat in the vicinity of the rest of your abandoned clothes, and then you’re completely on display for the two of them.

Aaron sits back on his haunches, large hands wrapped around your thighs and thumbs pressing dangerously close to where you’re aching for him, when there’s a shuffle of clothes on the other side of the room.

Your eyes flit to Emily, your throat going dry when you notice that she’s slid her pants off, the black lace of her panties visible as she spreads her thighs apart. Her nimble fingers toy with the waistband, her shirt riding up until it’s bunched around underneath her breasts, and her head lolling onto her shoulder. There’s a pretty flush rising up her chest and neck, red lips parted around a gasp and eyes half-lidded as she stares at the wetness clinging to your folds.

You wonder if she’s just as soaked as you were, whether there would be an evident wet spot if you were able to dip your head between her thighs and look close enough. If she would taste as sweet as she smelled, the way traces of her perfume would linger when she would stalk past you.

Your attention is brought back to the man on his knees for you as he nips at you, his warm breath fanning over your core and causing you to squirm. You wonder if he was going to tease you, wringing you out until you were begging for more.

“Eyes on her,” Aaron rasps before he’s leaning in and licking a broad stripe up the seam of your pussy.

You gasp, heat shooting up your spine as your thighs immediately tense and your back bows, your arms threatening to give out until you were lying flat on your back. But Aaron’s command echoes in your brain, loud and clear even through the fog that threatens to cause your eyes to slip closed.

He hums at the first taste of you, shuffling closer to get more of you. It’s almost cruel the way he languidly licks between your folds, gathering your wetness and spreading it around with a flick of his tongue. He’s adamantly avoiding your aching clit, but the way he’s devouring you, as if he had all the time in the world, has you whimpering.

Emily’s studying you, nearly smirking at the way your jaw drops when you notice how her fingers have begun rubbing slow circles over her clothed clit. You could barely see the way her finger come back slick, evidence of her arousal, and you whine when she tugs the crotch of her panties aside to expose her swollen pussy.

You know Aaron glances up at you, that he’s satisfied that you’re obeying him, because he’s laving hot, open-mouthed kisses up your folds until he’s wrapping his plush lips around your clit and sucking hard.

You moan brokenly, your hips canting up, as if you could get more of his perfect fucking mouth on you. The slick sounds of Aaron buried in your pussy fills the room, and if you strained your ears hard enough, you swore you could hear how wet Emily was.

Her eyes roam hungrily over you now, her fingers quickening over her puffy clit, and that coil in the pit of your stomach grows tighter when she dips into her own cunt to spread her slick around. She’s soaked, nearly dripping onto the upholstery of your armchair, and the sight of her has your mouth watering.

“Aaron…” you pant, your thighs straining against the tight grip he has on you, keeping you spread and on display for your guest. “I’m gonna come…”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” The low pitch of his voice as he mouths against you nearly melts down your spine. He pulls away, causing you to let out a needy whine, before two of his thick fingers begin to circle your entrance.

Your voice breaks on a moan as he slowly slides them inside of you, stretching you open so deliciously your hips tilt up so you could take more of him. You could nearly taste how close you were, the tension in your belly threatening to snap. “Please—”

“You’re going to come for us.” His thrusts grow faster, hitting deep inside of your cunt as his other hand keeps you in place, not letting you squirm away even if you wanted to. “And then you’re going to show Emily how well you take my cock.”

You sob his name as the pressure in your stomach finally snaps, your pussy clenching desperately around the thickness of his fingers. Aaron works you through it, drawing it out as he suckles on your pulsing clit and lets you grind against his face, his nose digging into you and causing sparks to run up your spine.

You’re breathless, panting as you use all of your strength to keep yourself on your elbows, just to get that exhilarating thrill that buzzes through you as you watch Emily work herself harder. She’s staring hard at the way you thrust into Aaron’s open and eager mouth, content with drawing out her own orgasm a little bit longer as her fingers slow down.

You shudder as Aaron leaves one last kiss on your pussy before he’s standing up with a groan, no doubt his knees aching. He clearly pays it no mind, the lower half of his face smeared in your wetness, as he surges forward to kiss you.

The taste of yourself on his tongue has you sighing into his open mouth, and when he cradles your chin, there’s the wet drag of his fingers against your cheek that has you preening.

“Ready, honey?” He mutters against your lips, and only then were you aware that he had already shoved his sweatpants down until they were bunched around his thighs, just enough to let his thick cock out. The swollen head was already dripping in precum, drawing a pearly string from his shirt where it bobs up against his stomach.

You nod, not trusting yourself to give a coherent answer, and then you’re biting back a squeal as Aaron tugs your hips down until your hips were hanging over the edge of the mattress.

He pushes your thighs back and crowds into you, kneeling onto the mattress so your knees were hitched around his waist. He fists the base of his cock, notching it at your entrance, and you know Emily is getting an eyeful of your spread cunt, but all your focus zeroes in on your boyfriend.

For a brief second, it’s as if it was just the two of you. His hair is tousled and falling into his eyes, there’s still the evidence of your orgasm on his chin, and you’ve never felt so safe in your entire life.

“I got you,” he repeats softly, just for you, and it causes your heart to swell almost painfully as you give him a watery smile.

You throw your arms around his shoulders as he begins to push inside of you. You let out a long, drawn-out moan as your cunt stretches around him, the slight burn unrelenting despite the thickness of his fingers.

You cling to him as he pushes his cock deeper, until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you, and Aaron’s chest shakes with a groan as your walls clench and flutter around him. “Christ, honey, you’re always so fucking tight.”

He’s still for just a moment, just enough to let you feel like you were getting used to the sheer size of him, before he begins to move. He starts slow—rocking his hips into you, dragging his cock out at such an agonizing pace you felt sparks of heat along your flushed skin.

“Eyes on her,” he pants in your ear, and you will your eyes over his shoulder, to the corner of the room where Emily’s nearly completely slouched down in the chair and has two fingers knuckle deep in her pussy.

You moan freely at the sight, eyes rolling back into your skull as Aaron begins to fuck you faster, hips snapping against yours, and she does the same.

“Fuck,” Emily mutters, spreading her legs impossibly further. Her pretty pussy swallows her fingers up completely, the shine of her slick visible even from here. She’s staring, almost unblinkingly, at the way your pussy stretches around Aaron’s thick cock, the lewd slapping of his balls against your ass with each deep thrust.

Aaron always fucks you so hard you usually can’t speak, can’t even think about anything besides the way he’s splitting you open and the white-hot pleasure that buzzes through your veins. That sensation fills you now, making you feel spectacularly drunk, and the added element of Emily’s undivided attention has you nearly overstimulated, worn thin, like you were burning alive under the intensity of her stare.

“Can you hear how wet you are for us?” Aaron seems to be just as dazed, high on the unrelenting clenching of your needy pussy, as you could barely discern the shake in the low pitch of his voice. “You like being good for us, sweetheart?”

You nod slowly, jaw slack as he continues to fuck weak noises out of you. He has to grab your limp thighs, shoving them towards your chest, and the new angle has his cock driving into you so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

You were already embarrassingly close, the repeated drag of his cock coaxing breathless, pleading sounds from your mouth. You were absolutely soaking his cock, could feel your slick smearing your inner thighs and sliding down the length of him until it dripped down his balls.

“Look at me.” His hand comes up to grip the base of your skull and it hardly requires any effort for you to immediately tear your eyes away from the sight of Emily’s hips thrusting up into her own fingers, signaling to you that she was equally as close, to Aaron.

His eyes are dark, hungry, and the hold he has on your screams of his secret possessive nature. He’s breathing hard, broad chest heaving, and his hard thrusts have you teetering on the edge. He must feel you clenching erratically around him, must know the way your breaths skip over each other before your words get caught in your throat. “Ask Emily.”

You must effectively convey your confusion because there’s a smirk tugging at his lips the next second, painting him to look like a devil in disguise. “Ask Emily,” he says, “If you can come.”

And then he speeds up, pounding you so relentlessly your body jolts in his arms with the force of it. You can feel your pussy gripping him like a vice, thoughts dissolving into nothing but sparks of heat, as you begin to babble almost intelligently.

“Fuck—please, Emily, please can I come?” You drop your head onto your shoulder, eyes glassy and wet, to direct your gaze to across the room.

She looks just as wrecked—eyes wide, lips parted, two fingers fucking steadily inside of her and two others rubbing erratically over her swollen clit. It’s as if she doesn’t know where to look, eyes flitting around to where you and Aaron meet, the repeated bouncing of your tits, or the pure bliss etched across your face. “Yeah, yeah, baby, you can come.”

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as waves of pleasure crash over you. Aaron has to hold onto you tighter as your body convulses, your needy cunt spasming around him. You think your vision whites out, barely able to discern the shuddering breath from across the room, but then Aaron’s burying his face in your shoulder and groans lowly. He ruts into you a handful of times before he’s spilling inside of you, grinding his hips against yours as if making sure you took every last drop.

You whimper softly, the twitching of his cock bordering on both overstimulating and euphoric as he fills you up, claiming you in front of your best friend. It’s possessive, nearly animalistic in nature as aftershocks run through you and your legs begin to tremble where they’re still hiked up around Aaron’s hips.

There’s a brief pause, the silence in your bedroom broken only by the three of you catching your breath. You knew that feeling of anxiety was just around the corner, dread at the thought of having to face Emily tomorrow morning in the elevator. You’d have to sit across from her at the round table, knock knees on the jet, and not think about how she was knuckle deep inside her own cunt when she gave you permission to come.

But you don’t think about that now—can’t think about that now, especially when Aaron pulls out of you with a grunt, stepping back enough for Emily to get a good look at the way his come oozes out of your spent cunt, twitching as it drips onto your grey bedsheets.

You finally flop back onto the bed with a groan, your legs giving out and dangling over the edge like a ragdoll. Immediately, there are two pairs of eyes hovering inches above you and Aaron’s warm, slightly sticky, hand cradling your cheek, his own silent form of praise.

And then there’s another hand. Softer, more slender, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your forehead. When you blearily blink your eyes open and meet Emily’s, there’s a strange surge of emotion in your chest that you were too afraid to name.

“You still with us?” She asks, tone slightly playful. When you glance down at the rest of her body, she has her jeans haphazardly pulled up around her hips, the zipper and button still undone. There’s a sheen of sweat over her chest, on her upper lip, and you almost don’t want her to go.

You swallow dryly, nodding. You felt frazzled, not only from the onslaught of ecstasy and attention, but from something more intense.

Emily smiles at you then—gentle and warm. She leans in to press her warm lips to your sweaty temple and you catch a whiff of her sugary sweet perfume.

The hum of the air conditioner and the tender strokes of Aaron wiping you down with a warm towel nearly lulls you to sleep, nearly melting into the mattress as that dull type of exhaustion only a strong orgasm could bring weighs down your limbs.

The distant sound of the front door clicking shut wakes you. The lights in the bedroom were shut off, leaving only the soft glow of the bathroom light to seep through the crack in the door. You’re tucked underneath your duvet, unbearably tight the way Aaron always does, and you’re about to unfurl yourself to sit up and stretch out your lower back when he’s tiptoeing back into your bedroom.

“Hey,” he whispers, not wanting to shatter the little cozy haven he’s built for you, and quickly moves to slip himself underneath the duvet with you before you can silently stretch your arms out.

You immediately tuck yourself into him, chin digging into his firm chest, and silently thank whatever god was out there that you had a furnace for a boyfriend as you tuck your chilly toes underneath his calves.

You know he can tell you had something to say, the words itching to spill out of you. He taps his fingers against your shoulder blade, a silent reminder that he was there, and you take a deep breath before mustering out what you’ve been wanting to say as soon as you came into your bedroom earlier today.

his brown eyes are specking with golden hues that match the bands that sit prettily on the burgundy velvet cushion that the ring beholder offers you.

the babbling of the priest sounds like gibberish to your clogged ears. your heartbeat is going so fast you believe it might escape from your rib cage. if it does…you hope you can run away along with it from this church and this fate you’re now in the hands of.

“miss?” your eyes drift from the man— from who you’d be calling husband from now on towards the priest.

“forgive me. i seem to have lost my train of thought.” he smiles kindly and repeats what he had asked.

“do you take this beast, spencer reid, king of his kind, as your husband? in health and wealth, sickness and poorness?”

you suddenly feel like swallowing a spoonful of cinnamon, and your breathing hastens.

but you have to do this. a bloody war depends entirely on the next words you’ll spew. you have no choice but to…

“i do.”

“then, hereby, with the power i behold and under the eyes of our god, i name you wife and husband. you may now bear the rings…” his hands are warm, but his eyes are cold, void of feeling. his jaw is tight the moment he steps closer. his nostrils flairs as he takes in the musk of your skin, the perfume the maids had sprayed on you, the vanilla that lingers from the oils they had lathered you on after your bath. he looks at you as if you were an insect and his next meal at the same time.

his touch is scalding and electrical as he slides the golden band, the branded signature with his name and the date of your union, onto your heart finger, the metal just a barrier of thin skin away from the blood that pumps right straight to the thumping core in your chest, which now too would belong to him, either you wanted it to or not.

your eyes zero on it, trying to take in the sigh and the idea of now being a married woman, and not an ordinary one at that, but the wife of the king of all beasts, the ones you’ve been against since the beginnings of time.

but your little bubble pops at the rasping of the priest. the ring. his ring. the ring you have to put on your now husband’s finger.

“oh, sorry.” your voice is soft, that’s something spencer has noticed, but nothing compared to your touch, your skin. he hides the way his breath hitched when you carefully and tenderly caught his hand, so you could slide the band on his finger. he can hear your rapid heartbeat, can sense the fear and nervousness coming out of your soul in waves.

good. you should fear him.

“and now… you may kiss the bride.” your body locks, muscles going rock solid. anyone could mistake you with a statue by the way you’d even stopped breathing.

a growl leaves the beast’s chest and the whole church freezes.

“is it necessary?” his dangerous glare digs daggers into the priest’s chest, who starts sweating and stuttering.

“i-i’ts tradition, my lord.” his smile is screaming ‘please, mercy!!!’.

“fine. if i must.” he drawls, and you have to swallow as his cold stare now falls upon you, just like his presence. his new step breaks your space, it’s heavy, and his proximity chokes you, crushes you.

you hold your breath as he bends down, golden and hazel eyes facing your doe ones, widened in astonishment.

the space closes, diminishes, and dissapears. your eyes tighten close, your hands clenching into fists.

please, god, don’t allow this to be my death.

and when you thought that he would tear into your skin, you feel him take a deep breath in. he was taking you in, and god did you smell biteable.

spencer’s teeth clash down onto each other, and a new growl leaves his chest. this one is deeper, dangerous. and it terrorizes you.

a squeal escapes your lips, your stomach flips. he must consider your scent disgusting compared to those of his kind. what if he couldn’t take it? what if the need to feel your flesh give in into his mouth and your blood hit his tastebuds was too strong? what if his instincts-

but then soft as cotton lips pressed against the corner of your plush and trembling ones.

it was quick, a peck, before he was pulling away to show the relieved faces of now a happy crowd and priest.

“may god gift you with a long and lovely marriage, king and queen reid.”

his castle was not what you had expected. hell, had you even expected a castle at all?

high stone towers shadow you, colorful lilies of stained glass decorating the façade of the covered in bloom vines.

you frowned at the sight. your books always talked about being the gladiolus the flower of the crown of the beasts. for its meaning as the flower of the gladiators, strength and victory. no lily was ever mentioned on the scriptures.

“my lady?” one of the servants had opened the door of the carriage for you and now gifted you his hand as support for you to descend onto the ground.

your husband, observed in the shadows of the coach as you gladly accepted with a thankful smile. fangs glinted.

if the beasts had not their recognizable sharp canines, they would pass as one of your kind. they also were taller, sturdier, stronger. with a clawed hand of theirs, your skull could easily sink in under their tight grip. you tried to not think about the fact that soon you’d be entering into their den.

that was until…

“my lady!” your eyes found those of emily prentiss’, your confidant and with who you’d grown playing through the bushes of the maze in your palace.

“emily!” having her in your arms had never brought you as closer to home as you had been since you had said your ‘i do’. “oh, i’m so glad to see you… but what are you doing here?” you questioned.

“an order from your husband, he thought you’d feel safer with some of our kind working along his servants in the castle.” your eyes then sought out the beast with who you now shared not only a united kingdom, but a last name. and there he was. aaron hotchner, the guard that had kept you alive like a guardian angel since before you could walk, shaking the hand of your husband as who you assumed —and would get to know later as derek morgan— would be his second hand, a man of great built and tanned skin.

“oh…” you muttered, your sight quickly adverting as spencer seemed to notice your staring, finding your fleeting eyes.

his hazel irises burned over your skin; your figure in your still pure white wedding gown.

“let me take you upstairs, into a much comfier dress, hm?” emily took your hand and you nodded, tagging along, but the need to turn around ate at you and tugged on your strings until you did, finding that spencer’s eyes had not yet left you, or the way emily held your hand.

(…)

after that, you didn’t catch sight of your husband until the sun had commenced to dip below the frond forest that surrounded you.

you now wore a sleeveless bedazzled and corset tight purple gown, your delicate feet in the comfiest heels you had ever worn. your long and wavy hair —a masterpiece from your stylists— danced across the hair as the clacks of your kitten heels accompanied and announced your arrival to the dinner hall.

two tall butlers opened it for you, their synced voices stating your entrance. “lady reid.”

guards stood posted at every door, maids just a feet away in case of need. across the room a feast spread before your eyes, at the head of the table your husband sat, waiting for you.

but what spencer wasn’t expecting was to see you wearing purple, the emblematic color of his kind. before he could think, he was standing, his chair scraping the rick marble of the floor. he stared at you so intensely, for a moment you thought you had somehow done something wrong, offended him… but no.

if spencer couldn’t hold himself as well as he knew how to, his mouth would have hung open in surprise. but of course, his composure was his forte. though you seemed to have a natural knack to shake it to its core.

you bowed before him. “my lord.” your voice soft, kind and elegant as you acknowledged him.

he mimicked you as soon as he pulled his train of thought together. “my lady.” both of you stared at each other. “i wasn’t aware of your knowledge on our history and emblems.”

and that. that was the longest he had talked to you for.

you smiled, softly, just a mere trace. “thought that, now as part of that history, i should start playing the part of where i belong now; the house of reid.”

his body slightly froze at your words, but he gently nodded, and with no more comment, swiftly signaled you to take a seat on the other head of the table, right across from him.

after that, the maids were quick to prepare your silverware and drape a velvet cloth over your lap in case of spills.

you thanked them, and stared at the food in front of your eyes, there were plates that you’ve only seen in drawings or read in books, tropical fruits about which’s sweetness songs strummed along.

you didn’t know where to start. but that was not just what concerned you. spencer still stared at you, calculated. like a gentleman, he awaited for you to make the first move, take the first bite. it was an inverted veneration to which you were accustomed. and you didn’t know what to take. what to eat. how much to eat. society standards were hard, you’d starve for the perfect size, the perfect figure. you now were a queen. the closest thing to perfection and god known to man… you had to be nothing less than that. you couldn’t be.

you reached for sautéed asparagus, your fork easily pinching though the softness of it before slicing it in a smaller piece once in your plate.

spencer continued to stare as you filled —more like half-filled— your plate with small portions of vegetables. cooked potatoes, carrots, tomatoes…

he stopped you just as you were to pick on some lettuce. “not a fan of meat?” his plate stood, yet, empty, the golden specks on his eyes shining under the flames of the chandelier.

“oh, not at all, my lord.” your eyes met a plate of stake nearby, and you felt your mouth water. “seems delicious.”

the beast frowned then. “feeling ill, perhaps?”

you shook your head, and once again, denied. “no, my lord.”

his eyes narrowed, once, and then took his silverware. “alright then.”

(…)

dinner had never been so long and dreadful. but nothing could compare to the hour in which the sun left you in the dark.

you had been bathed for a third time that day, and lathered in all times of oils that left your skin smelling and feeling like the most softest of petals.

a sheer white gown covered your figure, and your hair hung down to your waist in the same beautiful waves you had worn to dinner.

you were now awaiting for your husband on your chambers. white, purple and gold surrounded you, lilies filling the room, the window letting in the soft and warming breeze of the upcoming summer.

you couldn’t stop staring at your reflection on the mirror that hung from the nearest wall. were your lashes sufficiently curled? were your cheeks rosy enough? is your hair properly curled from every angle? did you look perfect? you had to. it was your wedding night.

your cheeks flushed at the thought and realization of it. your wedding night. the night in which you’ll become one with your now husband. the night in which you’ll offer yourself completely to him, body and soul, for the first time ever. you were not supposed to know what would happen. but you were curious, and sneaky, so of course you had managed to find books of anatomy and some… erotica on the forbidden section of your castle’s library.

pleasure. that’s what you’ll feel. once he rids you of your clothes, once he crawls on top of you, once he spreads open your thighs and…

a knock falls upon the wooden door, and you jump on your place. it’s him. you quickly take a last peek towards the mirror, anxiously combing through your hair one last time. you’re flushed. cheeks, neck and ears pinkish and warm as your meek voice mutters a “come in!”.

the door creaks open, and spencer’s heavy steps break the air, with his presence inside the room, it feels heavier upon your shoulders, dense.

he closes the door, and his eyes met yours, but then, he takes a deep breath in, and has to fight the urge to growl deep into his chest at the scent you give off. he hadn’t even looked at you, hadn’t even touched you yet…, and he could already smell the arousal pooling in between your plush thighs. how sweet you were. how ripe and ready and…

his lung filled in with the scent of your need. your body, soft, smaller, pliant—called for him, to be bred, to give him the heir that will officially be the union of both your kingdoms.

you’re so willing to let him take you, for him to push himself upon you and break you apart…

“why are you still awake?” his voice is ruff, dry, void of any warmth. your body shivers, freezes. your heart jumps.

“i… uh-“

“it’s late. you ought to be sleeping. a queen needs all the rest she can get.”

your cheeks pink. have you thought wrong? did they not…?

“i thought i’d wait awake for you…” his fists clench at the sliver of soft and tempting voice that leaves your plush lips —those which he had barely felt, tasted, a mere hours ago at the ceremony and which you wouldn’t stop wetting with your wicked tongue in nervousness—.

he simply ignores your words, and sits on the common tea area in the spacious room, taking out of his vest’s pocket a perfectly sized book of what? your sight could not catch.

“my lord…?” your voice calls once again for him, questioning. his eyes fall close at the sound.

after eternal seconds of still silence, he speaks once more.

“it’s our wedding night.” the declaration makes you pulse, flush, reek. and spencer growls. “i’ll stay in your quarters for exactly an hour, as it is expected of me to be here tonight, then i’ll leave.”

you frown. solely an hour? ‘your quarters’? he’ll ‘leave’?

you take a deep breath in…

“i don’t understand…”, and let it out. your hands, clammy, shaky, clasp together, your thighs tremble, tighten. “you won’t…?”

“what.” that single word is cutting. “take you?” your core floods, your body warms and he growls once again, making your flesh wear those beautiful goosebumps that call unto his most dark instincts. “stop that.” he orders. “stop with that nonsense and go to sleep, you need the rest.”

you swallow. your heart freezes over and cracks. your hopes wither.

but you nod, concede, and gently make your way into the silk, sheer, white sheets.

you turn on your side, eyes facing towards the window facing the floral and beautiful gardens of your new… home?

you let your lids fall, and with a last breath before you will yourself yo sleep you mutter out a broken.

“goodnight, my lord.”

the days are long, almost never ending. your desk if full of paperwork you thought you would never have to do. you were prepared, of course, your entire life-hood had been lesson after lesson to take the crown after your father and mother —being the only offspring of the marriage—. but it had surprised you. never in history had a queen had so much power in her hands, so many decisions to make —not on your kingdom at least—.

“the king wants your insights in the kingdom matters, for you’re the owner of it as well.” derek morgan, the second hand or your husband spoke with the kindest of smiles as he carefully placed the papyruses on the wood before you, ink and quill ready.

your eyes were wide and doe’d in surprise, but you managed to give a quick nod before he retreated and stood beside aaron on the door, guarding it. the first thing that came to your mind was the reasoning for this. aaron was a capable soldier, a golden one at that. the best in you kingdom. he could protect you just fine, so why a second one…? that’s why the possible answer of the reason for it being spencer’s need to monitor you through derek, to keep you from making mistakes… made anger boil in your gut. could it be that he thought of you as inferior? as frail and dumb just for being a human?

you straightened your back even further and gritted your teeth. aaron, non the wiser, and knowing of your mannerisms, raised slightly his eyebrows at your almost imperceptible show of fury.

your quill flew through the sheets, your scribbling was almost frantic as you also filled the margins of the documents with your strong opinions and arguments. plans were made. data updated. and contracts for upgrades were signed with your careful, floral and graceful script.

and when you were done, you sat up abruptly.

“aaron.”

the guard stepped forwards. “yes, my lady?”

“i’d very much like to wander through the gardens.” hotchner nodded under your command.

“then i shall accompany you, my lady.”

you didn’t even gave morgan a side glance as your kitten heels clacked by him, leaving the room and him behind.

and it wasn’t until you were deep into the gardens that aaron spoke once again. “are you alright, my lady?”

“please don’t call me that, aaron. i shall remain your princess even if my name has changed.” he chuckled lightly at your sweet fit and pout.

“alright then, princess. but that doesn’t answer the question.”

“just marriage matters.” you simply said. aaron was like a second father to you, he had been there even in your first steps, and helped you clean your wounds when you’d fall while playing through the maze of your castle. you were pretty sure he wouldn’t like to know about the marital distance spencer put between you two. how he left you to sleep alone every night, and barely spoke to you during the days.

you were married to a ghost in a crown.

“marriage is supposed to be hard, princess. even more if you’re different species.” he gave you an encouraging smile, the golden wedding band blinking at you. you sometimes forgot he was married, and had a beautiful kid he also had to take care of aside from you. you took a mental note to give him more vacation time and shorter shifts now that haley and jack had moved to the houses near the castle —that spencer had built specifically for the servants, guards and their families.—.

you hummed, feet dragging through the perfectly cut grass.

“i guess you’re right.” you continued your walk, under a willow and a couple of meters away from you a beautiful pond overflowing with the most crystalline water you had ever laid eyes on, pink water lilies rimming it as if it were a painting, or the most perfect natural mirror. hotchner should’ve known the moment that wicked smile of yours split your porcelain face. “how do you think my husband shall react if he found me in the pond?”

“princess.” he tried to stop you, but the word hadn’t even finished leaving his lips before your heels were off, and you were tugging at your dress, undoing the front corset and letting it drop to the ground.

aaron was quick to look away. sure, you still had your white chainse to cover you. but you were a queen, and firstly, a woman. one he deeply respected. he turned.

“princess, i believe this won’t be to the king’s liking.” he rose his voice, muttering a breathy curse when he heard your feet plunge into the water and your little squeal.

“well, i am his queen and equal. and if i desire to go into this lake, then i shall.” and with that you dived in. the water was the perfect temperature, mostly colder than warmer, but you preferred it that way.

your long hair adhered to your back as you came back to the surface, eyelashes decorated like chandeliers with the droplets of lukewarm water. your cheeks were flushed, a relaxing smile giving away on your lips as you wadded though the water, observing the little butterflies and dragonflies that would pass by. maybe you could plant more flowers for them.

but your little bubble of relaxation bursted when a needle with the low growl of your husband went through it —and the air who surrounded you— like an arrow.

“and what is my wife doing naked in front of another man who is not me?”

you froze on your place, just for a second, your muscles locking and going taut with a tension that had been growing like weeds inside of you, creeping and surrounding your heart in spines. then you smirked, but put on your best confused and innocent expression as you turned and your doe eyes met his.

“but i am not naked, my lord. i’ve still got my chainse on.” your lily-white words fell from your wet lips. “look.” and when you stood from the water, it cascading in rivers down your silhouette, which now was accentuated by the sheer white fabric glued to your skin — a fabric that left everything on sight— in that instant, derek morgan, who had tailed down the king, looked away as well, fixing his dark brown eyes in the plum and willow trees.

spencer, on the contrary, kept his eyes, which shone, for just a split of a second, with the purest golden… on you. on your pebbled and rosy nipples, that show through the sheer damp white.

“princess-“ aaron quickly took off his purple velvet cape, stepping towards you to cover you. god forbid you caught a cold and fell ill. but the deep threatening growl of the king stopped him from taking one more step.

spencer didn’t mutter a word. the stare he gave the human clearly spoke aloud his thoughts: drape that thing over her and i’ll have your head. then, he undressed. first his purple embroidered vest, then, his white flared shirt, and stepped towards you.

your eyes raked down the exposed skin. sun-kissed toned muscles greeting you, making you almost salivate. his chest was strong, the perfect size for you to hide against for warmth in a chilly night. his shoulders, wide, the muscle taught in tension, made for your hands to claw at. his stomach… lean, soft yet harsh lines showing his formed abdominals. and then… lower… peeking from his pants, the most mouth watering and sharp v-line —which you wondered if would cut your fingertips if touched— flanking soft highlighted curls that disappeared down down down…

your vision got clouded by the cloth of said shirt as he pulled it down over your head, covering you and engulfing you in his rich scent, making your heart almost beat out of your chest.

his jaw was tight, muscle about to snap as his eyes were anywhere but on you. as if he couldn’t bear the sight of you.

his grip was tight on your hip, and from his pink lips fell a simple order.

“now go change.”

and for the first time. you didn’t try to fight. not with the way he growled each word under his breath.

spencer was about to spill over the edges. his skin was tightening, and his body felt like a goddamn furnace. he knew what that meant, he could feel it in his bones. but he kept working and working and working, trying not to think about the storm of hunger that would take over him sooner than later.

“so, under my watch, the constructions wouldn’t take long, and would enrich the kingdom, for ferthey is interested in our wolfsbane as much as we are interested in their luna magra.” rossi —the treasurer and political man of the court— spoke, plans of a new harbor and corps expanded on the table.

spencer was trying to pay attention, he really was, but his mind was far far away from the room in which he stood.

“sounds good. the faerie has always been fair and generous in tradings. also our bonds would tighten.” the king hummed. “send correspondence as soon as possible.”

“yes, my lord.” david bowed, rolling the maps and saving them back carefully into his satchel.

“making decisions without your queen, gentlemen?” heads turned under the sound of your voice, eyes landing on your figure, framed by the wooden door. and if non-the wiser, you could have been mistaken for a painting, the most mouthwatering masterpiece. soft plush thighs uncovered under the same shirt spencer had covered you with the afternoon prior, which you had clung onto after the maids had showered, insisting you’d sleep on it.

you looked so small under the size of it, so fragile. hair slightly messy, cheeks rosy and lips plump. you had just woken up.

eyes widened, and then left you, bodies folding on bows. “my lady!” it was as if the church’s choir was present with the way they all chanted your name.

spencer’s chest puffed in a deep breath, almost a gasp, also an intake of your sweet scent being consumed by the musk of his. his sharp eyes wondered your exposed skin, canines gritting when the neck of his shirt slipped slightly down your shoulders, slightly unbuttoned front showing your clavicles and juncture of your neck, where he would…

“out.” the order was guttural, simple. every man in the room tensed under it.

you rose your eyebrows as you looked him straight in the eyes. “not so soon gentlemen, i have yet to see what you were planning in my absence.”

the step they were about to take towards the door became a mere feint. now, the court stood in between the words of both carrying the crown.

“everyone. out. now.” you husband’s voice filled the space once again, but this time… even your body felt the need to comply. the bellow was rough, deep, the order of a true leader.

when the bodies of his kind moved like mere puppets on strings and left the room in a hurry is when you noticed that the roar was not a simple one. but an alpha’s order. spencer had used his alpha’s voice against his own. a tone so impossibly deep and strong that no wolf could unfollow nor break, not if they weren’t as stronger as him. and there was no wolf as strong as the king.

when they left you two behind inside the room, after the soft click of the door, you scoffed. “now that was not fair.”

“i’m starting to believe my lady has a liking to undressing herself in front of other men.” he growled and you smirked with a shrug of your dainty shoulders.

“can’t a queen be comfortable in her own castle?” he clicked his tongue. you had a sharp one, your were quick.

“in my shirt.”

“in your shirt, indeed.”

yours. yours. yours.

mine. mine. mine.

you could hear his teeth clashing against each other in a tight bite.

“take it off.” he ordered. he wanted it back.

“as you wish, my lord.” and who were you to deny your king and husband?

but as your hands took the hem of your shirt, and started to pull upwards, to pair of strong burning hands encircled your wrists. in a blink, spencer has crossed the room, his brown eyes catching a mere glimpse of the sheer underwear underneath his shirt before it could go any further.

a low growl left his chest, and your body reacted to it. to it and to his touch. goosebumps rose, slick formed…

“what are you doing?” his heavy breathing hit your cheeks. deep rich coffee.

you kept your eyes on him. “exactly what you asked for, my lord. i’m taking it off.”

“here?”

“are you not my husband?” his eyes closed. spencer bit the inside of his cheek until copper hit his tastebuds, and ground himself with a deep breath before facing you once again.

he let go of your wrists, but stood a breath away, eyes dark, deep into yours. a dare was written in his irises; ‘do it. do it if you have the courage.’

and you, once again, delivered.

you didn’t look away as you continued your tugging, up, up, up, until it left the warmth of your skin behind, fell down your hand and ended on the floor.

only covered by your drawers, all but your most sensitive core, stood exposed before his eyes. at first he didn’t look, fought against the need of your eyes to wander, but your skin was so pure… and ready for the taking.

your breath got stuck in your throat as, by the mere sight of the naked skin of your neck, the mere crevice of it, his eyes turned the prettiest and brightest golden you’d seen. and before he would let his eyes travel downwards, towards the soft and supple mounds of your chest and rosy peaked nipples begging for attention… he forced them away.

“leave.” he said in a breath. his skin was itching. his lungs suffocating in the dulcet aroma of your arousal. but his face ported the poker of a card, and his eyes had returned to the chocolate you were acquaintances with once again.

you stood there, unmoving. and that’s when he called louder. “prentiss!”

through the wooden door, the voice of the brunette could be heard, before the human cracked it open. a slip dress stood in between her arms, as if she were conscious of what would happen once you stepped into the conference room.

“yes, my lord?”

“would you mind aiding the queen to dress and lead her back to her chambers?” he asked, as politely as he could with the deep growl that begged to leave his chest. emily looked at you, and you simply turned, slipped on the dress and left him behind in that empty room. the door shut and his eyes zeroed on the shirt on the floor, the shirt you had worn to sleep, the shirt that now contained not only your scent, but his, combined.

his hand took it, gripped it, if it weren’t for his composure he would have already ripped it to pieces, but instead, just followed after you and into his room, throwing it into a corner before pouring himself three fingers of bourbon.

you must be doing this on purpose.

that was spencer’s thought when you stepped foot into the dining room for breakfast that morning. you were properly dressed this time, a beautiful, flowy, summery dress clinging to your body in all the right places. it was a feast for the eyes of anyone. but the dessert. the sugared cherry, the forbidden fruit… was how you smelled.

his nose flared, his lungs filling up in pure unabashed hunger.

orgasm. you smelled like an orgasm. he could smell the residual cum in between your thighs, on your fingers. could practically smell your moans, your whines.

he was aware that you knew. you must. just as he was aware that if he could smell it, the others of his kind in the room could as well.

but how… how did you knew what an orgasm, what pleasure was supposed to be?

had you heard about it? had someone told you about it? had someone touched and taught you?

the mere thought made the golden fork in his hand almost snap in half.

“morning, my lord.” you saluted him, sitting down on the opposite head of the table, like always. “how was your sleep last night?” you inquired, and made sure to slightly part your thighs.

either you were completely oblivious or your little fits lately had been completely intentional.

‘the second.’. you’d answer with the prettiest of smiles if you could read into his mind.

“fine.” he answered gruffly. “what about yours?” but still courtesy didn’t lack.

“splendid.” you smiled softly, and he swallowed a growl. fucking tease.

truth be told? your little schemes were just a simple way to get spencer’s attention. to get his touch. but most of all, to prove that he desired you. just as you did. he must desire you, right?

but up until now, two weeks of marriage had passed, and no little stunt had worked. first, it had been the lake, next; the shirt incident. after that, you had made sure to become friendlier with his second hand, derek, in seek of his jealousy. you had pranced around the castle with shorter and shorter gowns, had basically rooted yourself to the places he most commonly frequented; like the library, where the tow of you spent hours reading each on a different side of the room. you haunted him like a ghost… and yet, he had stood impassible. to everything. every step, every word, anything you did… his façade was impeccable. you couldn’t make him react. couldn’t make him tick. and it was as heartbreaking as frustrating.

until…

it was late at night. another alone night in your chambers as you devoured page after page of a romance novel you’d found on the castle’s library. when the passion filled the pages, and neediness seeped into your undergarments, soaking the tender flesh of your thighs…

when your hand came down in seek of relief… that it hit you.

werewolves had the best sense of smell ever recorded and known. so… if you waltzed into a room where he stood unclean, dripping in release… he must notice. he must smell it.

so that night, you made sure to make a mess. it wasn’t difficult if you recalled the image of his sun-kissed skin, exposed and strong chest, marked abs, perfect happy trail that led the way to…

so now here you stood, eyes digging deep into his, acting as if nothing was wrong. but this time, you had seen the way his nose had flared, how for just a mere second, golden had taken over his irises, how his body had tensed… a crack, a way in.

and you were not gonna let it leave your grasp.

now. about to enter a state of rut, in which inhibitions lowered and a savage, hungrier side of him broke through his walls… spencer felt taunted. like a donkey to which they had offered a carrot hanging from a stick, right in front of his eyes. what you didn’t know is that he was no donkey, and you were no carrot. he was a wolf, and you were a lamb… and wolves devoured lambs.

he felt the urge to take ahold of you, sink his claws and teeth in you and ravish you.

but instead, spencer glued himself sat to his seat, and bit harshly on a bloody piece of steak.

(…)

spencer`s chambers stood at the end of the hall, a couple of doors away from yours, for a matter of protection. and you took advantage of that. nocturnal as he was, you became accustomed to his scheduled, and knew the exact moment in which he would make his way down the hallway and into his room to commence your little toying.

the first night spencer caught the sound of your dulcet moans and needs whimpers… he almost broke through your door and took you right there. he could hear the whines, the wet sounds of your arousal as your fingers pounded into your warm and velvety insides, your ragged breathing… the calling of his name.

so sweet, so needy…

he couldn’t help but stay until you finished all over your fingers and sheets with a quiet scream of his name.

his fists tightened, his jaw clenched, and he breathed out to himself: “keep walking, reid.”. even when his trousers were drenched, and he felt like dying of hunger.

(…)

the situation repeated itself each night, every passing one getting harder, every new moan and whimper becoming more and more impossible to ignore, making his desire more and more difficult to tame.

until he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

it was late. too late. you had already went through your little performance and were asleep when he softly and stealthily slipped into your room.

he bit back a groan at the unfiltered scent of you. fresh. potent. not blocked by the wooden door. it was right there. before him. under his nose.

such a deep sleeper you were that you didn’t awake at the imperceptible click of the door, or the fumbling of his clothes.

his eyes were bright in the darkness, like flames, pure gold as he stared at the silhouette of you, on your side towards the moon and away from him. you were uncovered, only piece of clothing your little nightgown. sheer. taunting. your thighs were exposed, glistening the further up his eyes went in between your legs. but nothing could be seen. it’s not as if spencer needed it. with just your scent and the sight of you spencer could come untouched. he got on his knees. venerable. under a spell. he worshipped you as he would worship a goddess. he knew he didn’t deserve to touch you. he always did.

the very first time he saw you. the very first whiff he got of you… he knew. you were made to be his. born for it. he could feel it in the way those invisible red strings connected his heart to yours. but he never touched you. didn’t properly kiss you. didn’t talk to you. firstly, because spencer was terrified of loving you —which he feared he already did— and secondly, because he was a monster. he could-no- would hurt you. he wouldn’t be able to fight the instinct and need to bite down on your neck and brand you as he would if you were of his kind, wouldn’t be able to not stretch you open on his knot and breed you like he’d been dreaming about doing since the moment you bowed your “i do.”.

he bit down on his shirt, canines tearing through the cloth, as one hand pushed the shirt you’d worn days ago —his shirt— right up against his nose and the other circled his stiff cock. it’s veins were full, about to pop. the head was already dribbling pre, leaking. and his balls were so tight and stuffed with the cum he wanted to deeply fuck into you he could cry. for fuck’s sake, his knot was almost fully formed. he was sure that it’ll merely take a few strokes to make a mess.

he was a dog. figuratively and literally as he started to stroke himself, golden eyes zeroing where your thighs met. he couldn’t even see it. couldn’t see your cunt. but he could smell it. and god if it didn’t smell as the best feast he’d ever encountered.

he was panting. basically in heat as he masturbated to the placid sleeping self you were on your bed. which should be his bed as well. both’s bed.

“god…” he begged, to whatever existed above the clouds. but deep down, he knew that his own personal god(dess) was asleep, in that bed, completely unaware of how hard and fast he jerked his cock to her.

and if spencer weren’t that needy, he might feel bad. but he couldn’t. not when it felt this good.

the thought only made him rose higher. you. naively thinking he didn’t desire you, even walking through your castle with your dried cum between your legs, practically begging him to bend you over the dining table and breed your womb full of his pups.

the imagery of it, of you plump and round and beautiful with his baby, made his knot try and lock into his palm. and just before shooting endless ropes of cum into the floor and his thighs, he took his napkin and pressed it against his sensitive tip, eyes rolling as he came, silent growl fighting his way out of his throat.

he didn’t know for how long he came. neither for how many rounds he went for as the night advanced. but in the end, his napking became useless.

spencer’s favorite moment of the night became the night. of course, being a wolf, he adored the moon. but lately something much more beautiful and bright had captured his attention. he spent the nights in your room, when you were deeply asleep and sated. you still left the scent of your release all over the room. such inhibited pleasure… he couldn’t believe you felt such sentiment for someone as impure as him.

his pre-rut state was getting worse; dizziness, hot flashes, fevers…

but deep in the night, he would softly rest his arms on your bed, and his chin on top of these. and just the mere sight of you, of your peaceful features, of your beautiful and breathtaking face… was enough to satiate his hunger, his thirst. you offered him solace. peace. oxygen as he struggled to breath during the day.

and yet, you were so unaware… of how deep his devotion for you had rooted inside his soul…

that a mere misunderstood… the right presence in the wrong moment and place… shattered you.

“spencer. stop this nonsense, you’re suffering. you cannot spend your rut alone. it’ll be unbearable.” you were on your way to the gardens to watch the sun disappear into the vast forest, aaron as always by your side, guarding you even if no threats were on sight. but a delicate cooing voice made you stop on your tracks. spencer’s office door was ajar, light coming from the inside, as well as his voice as he answered:

“i’m fine.”

“you are not. look at you, you’re running a fever again. you know i can help. i’ve done it before.” your eyes fell on a beautiful blonde. he wasn’t a royal, that was for sure, but neither a servant. maybe an acquaintance of the king’s. stunning ocean eyes. the smallest waist you had ever laid eyes on. he was a sigh for sore eyes. and a werewolf. just like spencer.

something deep inside you felt off at the sight of the two of them together. insecurity. how couldn’t you be?

spencer sighed, shaking slightly his head, brown eyes away from her. “jennifer…”

even her name was pretty.

but what you weren’t expecting was for her to take his face in between her hands and smash her lips against his.

all air left your lungs. it felt as if a dagger had gone straight through your heart. a punch to the gut. the little food you had had for breakfast —‘cause you had been watching your figure, trying to lose weight and be more appealing to your husband— made its way up your throat, and you had to swallow the nausea back down.

the sight was fleeting, for a hand came over your eyes and covered them.

“don’t look, my lady.” aaron’s voice whispered sadly onto your year, and you felt tears prickling.

not wanting him nor your husband to see you like this, you shoved him away harshly, making quick haste to run away towards your chambers.

spencer, who had quickly pushed away the blonde, caught sight of aaron’s stern face on his door, and the waving of your air in the air as your heels angrily made their way down the corridor.

he was quick to follow, pushing through your door as you tried and slam it on his face.

he muttered your name. and if you weren’t in such a heartbreak, you would have noticed it was the first time he had ever done it.

“no.” you cut him off. “that much you loathe me? despise me? enough to…, to depend on another woman at your weakest. in your rut?! to allow her to take a place i have gained by the bows i made before god and by the ring that hugs my finger?!”

spencer swallows, his eyes leaving you, falling shut. there are a million voices screaming inside his head. his insides are burning. his skin is on fire. his hands are itching to pull you close and his mouth is ready to kiss away all your worries and tears.

“look at you, you can’t even stand the sight of me! is that it? you no longer can survive seeing me every morning? fine! i’ll leave you alone. i’ll live, eat, bathe and sleep on my own. i’ll even move to the furthest isle of this goddamn castle!”

“that is not far enough!” his voice is gruff, desperate, harsh and cutting. he’s panting. eyes golden as he stares down at you. “you’re right. i can’t stand the sight of you. i can’t look at you. i can’t breathe when i’m around you. but not because i despise you. quite the contrary, because i desire you like i’ve never desired anything in my life. all the knowledge i’ve stored inside my head vanishes as you come near, all logic leaves me when you look at me. ‘cause i’ve leant that perfection is a myth. impossible. unreachable. and yet… there you stand…” your heart stops. your body freezes. your hands shake. and you fight the urge to pinch yourself. “the day you vowed before me the “i do”? the day that you let put that ring around your finger? you made me kneel with a simple stare. you ripped my heart out with the sweet dagger of your voice. you condemned me. condemned me to this hell in which i get to have you close but never close enough. you became the moon i pray to, the oxygen my lungs long for, the most beautiful breathing painting right before my eyes. you became my hell… and… my god given solace.”

both of your breathings are ragged, shaky. you’re drowning.

but in a blink, you can finally breath. after weeks of thin air filling your lungs.

his lips are soft yet harsh as he devours your mouth. the two of you moan on each others tongues. his hands don’t know where to touch. fuck, can he even touch you? should he? he shouldn’t. but his brain has already stopped working, something only you manage to do.

“spencer…” you whimper as his lips trail from your bruised lips to your neck. he inhales, deep. and his incredibly hard cock stirs in his trousers.

that’s all he needed. your scent. his name falling off of your lips while you were under his touch. it was the last push down the precipice. he growls, canines growing, bigger, sharper. you need them in your neck as much as he does. but… “god… i can’t.” he’s in rut now, his mind is foggy, his instincts are screaming at him to take you, ravage you, knot you, breed you… but most of all… make you his. mark you as his. with the ring or his bite on the juncture or your neck.

you hush him, pulling him closer. “you can. god, please spencer. you can. i want it. it’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

his sweaty forehead presses against yours, his golden eyes are as bright as the pure sun. “i’ll hurt you. i won’t… i won’t be able to control it. i’ll hurt you and i’ll hate myself for it.”

“you won’t. and even if you do… i’ll love it. just as i love you.”

after that, spencer’s head had never felt clearer. his chest lighter.

there’s a mess of hands as you desperately tug on each other clothes. but there’s no time to waste, and a gasp leaves your lips when he simply claws at your dress and rips it apart, making it mere shreds.

“spencer!” you try to tut, but he hushes you in between desperate kisses as he walks you backwards towards and onto the bed. you flop down onto the silk sheets. and jesus, aren’t you the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“god, forget about it. forget about the dress. i’ll buy you a new one. hell, i’ll buy you a thousand more of them if i get to rip them off of you every time.” you’re cheeks flush, even more when he rids himself of his vest and shirt. the sight you’ve missed so much, hits you once again, and your core floods. “fuck… you’re do damn beautiful. gorgeous. perfect.” he pants as his golden eyes ravish you. you shudder, and your cunt throbs. you instinctively press your thighs together. for relief. hell, maybe even restrain, but spencer growls.

“don’t you dare. don’t you dare hide from me. i’ve been dreaming about this sweet pussy of yours for weeks now.” you squeak when you see him kneel before you.

“my lord!” you try and make him stand but he pulls open your thighs, trying to take a glimpse of your dewy pussy lips, but when it doesn’t seem like enough, he just rips you free of your undergarments. now you’re fully exposed under his hungry gaze. and even though your virginal body is screaming in embarrassment, it’s already ready for him. to be ravished, fucked into oblivion… and you won’t leave this room without finally getting your husband to take you as it has been intended since the very first day of your marriage.

“no ‘my lords’ here. my name is spencer. your husband. you must refer to me as such.” his eyes meet yours, and you nod.

“my husband.” you repeat, and he groans as if he had just thrusted into you.

“god, you sound heavenly. but even more when you moan my name.” and he proves it by sinking in between your plushy thighs. his nose meets the dripping mess, tip against your clit. and he inhales, deeply, depraved. he growls, and your back arches when this time, it’s his tongue what meets your cunt, from entrance to mound. “beautiful… so sweet… so ready and needy for your alpha, aren’t you angel?” your eyes roll the same direction as his tongue rolls against your clit, a high pitched scream leaving you as he harshly sucks on it, letting it go with a pop just to slurp at the juices that quickly leaked out of you. “so wet… you’ve been needing this as much as me, hm baby? poor thing… so neglected by his husband. but don’t worry, there will be no more of that.” your breath hitches as his fingertips join his tongue, flicking and pinching you clit, prodding at your entrance until one finger slips inside. it goes in so easy he moans. “you won’t need to keep going with your little stunts to get my attention. to get me to fuck you until you cry. from now on… i’ll give you everything you want.” he thrusts, once. “i’ll fuck you full of me every day and night.” another finger stretches you open, and your hand tugs at his pretty and messy curls, making him groan and bite at his lower lip in pleasure. “i’ll make sure you’re dripping of me every minute of every single day.” another deep thrust. “and when it takes…” another thrust, a harsh suck on your sensitive clit. “when you’re round and glowing with my pup…” a third finger goes in, and you scream. you’d never gone this far. the fullness stings… but makes you dizzy for more. you wanted it to hurt, only if the one hurting you was spencer. “i’ll make sure you stay that way season and season again.” he fucks and laps at you. “until you beg me to stop.” and before you know it, white is taking over your vision and you’re screaming his name as you come around his pumping fingers, which fuck you through it. he groans at the sight, using his thumb to tease your clit and not miss a single second of it. “look at you. such a fucking natural, trying to milk my fingers… can’t wait to feel you try it on my cock.” he pleasures you through it, shrinks out of you and consumes every drop of your pleasure.

your vision is dizzy as he growls and pulls away. “fuck… can’t.” he basically rips away from his skin his trousers, as if the soft cloth was burning him, when in reality it was him who was.

you notice. notice how he’s still fighting against himself. how’s he’s battling against every and each one of his instincts for control.

“spencer…” his golden hues meet you, and you feel like prey about to be devoured. but it only pumps your veins of that fuzzy desire you crave. “please… stop fighting it.” one of your hands pressed against his toned abdomen, and you feel the muscles tense under your soft fingertips. “i want it. i want you.” he grits his teeth, but his jaw slacks when your hand curls around his throbbing and leaking cock. is big. massive. you fear he won’t even be able to push the tip in. and the mere thought of not being able to take him hurts you.

he moans your name as you explore him. your touch felt like pure snow against his scorching skin. relief. a relief he’d never known before. not even with one or his kind. not even with jennifer.

his mind is so filled up with you, his body is so attuned to yours and his soul craves you so much he beliefs you to be an illness, a drug. and he can’t escape it. he doesn’t want to. he’ll never let go of you now that he has tasted you, kissed you…

he almost comes the moment you find his knot, already puffy at the base of his length, flanked by perfectly groomed curly pubes. your mouth waters. your cunt pulses. this. this is what you craved.

“i want it.”

he growls, as if he were in pain. “you won’t be able to take it. it’ll hurt.”

“then hurt me.” you spew, fast, unthinking. you’re both animals starving. “please… alpha…”

a dribble of cum leaves his tip at the name. he’s cumming. he’s cumming just with your voice and mere touch. it’s not much. it’s not dense. it lacks. but you don’t waste it. you’re quick at letting your maw fall open and your tongue loll out, catching what he gives you before your lips engulf his engorged and pinkish tip. spencer moans, deep, guttural. and his fingers lace in your hair. the perfect grip. soft, careful, yet tight, as if he were scared you’d stop; leave him. not ever, you thought.

his eyes were a reflection of his uncontrollable hunger as he stared down at you. “god…” he whined when you lapped at his length, when you sucked at his tip… and he was about to fold in half when you took him deeper into your throat. and if he didn’t knew better, if he hadn’t seen the erotica books you’d sneaked into your quarters, he would have believed you had prior experience. “jesus, gorgeous…” the hold on your locks tightened as you bobbed your head and slightly choked. “you’re that desperate for me to fuck you, mh? gonna lube me up?” you nodded, teary eyes looking up at him as you gulped around his cock. he groaned. “such a good girl…” he praised you. “but i don’t think it’ll be necessary.”

in a blink you were underneath him, his narrow hips in between your soaked thighs. “this pretty little thing is already soaking wet for me.” he chuckled when you squealed at the feeling of his rudy tip teasing your slit, bumping against your clit. spencer kissed and lapped at your neck, at the juncture of it. it’s as if the glands there called for him. he nibbled at it as he thrusted against the heat of your pussy lips. “so ready… i bet i could just slip right in.” you whimpered.

“please…” his hand curled around his cock, and tentatively pressed against your twitching, dribbling entrance. a gasp left you when he barely pushed, almost breaching, just to pull back. even in this state, even when the rut was making him basically go insane before your eyes… he was tempting you, taunting you. this was payback.

“please what?” he licked at your glands, lips sucking a bruise against them, as if like that he could make your scent a beverage.

“please, alpha.” he growled.

“fuck. you make it difficult to teach you a lesson.” your breath hitched as he pressed further and your eyes fell shut, he took your cheeks with his free hand. “nuh-huh. don’t hide from me. look at me. i wanna see you take me.” and your eyes widened when, in a clean squelching swoop he thrusted inside your scorching walls. although, his knot still stood on the outside. he groaned. you moaned. it was the unleashing of a famine. “mine.” he growled and bit onto your lips, kissing you roughly as he started to move. he didn’t give you time to adjust. it wasn’t as if you needed it. you were so wet, his cock glided easily in and out of you. “say it. say you’re mine.”

“i’m you’re spencer, i’m yours.”

“my queen. my wife. my moon.” he growled against your mouth, tongue licking inside of it as his hands took ahold of your hips, so harshly you believed there would be bruises tomorrow morning. you couldn’t wait to see them marring your skin on the mirror. marking you as his. “so tight… so warm… so perfect for me.

“spencer…!” you whimpered as he sped up. he was desperate. starving. he drove into you like a man possessed, as if your pussy gave him life.

your g spot was bruised and milked over and over again with each snap of his hips. the now damp pretty curls on his base slightly tickled your clit, reminding you that there was still a part of him you hadn’t discovered, taken, made yours…

your legs surrounded his hips, talons sinking against his lower back as you pulled from him and pushed your hips against his next thrust. you felt the throb of his cock against your clenching walls when his knot breached your entrance. he gasped and trembled. “fuck. what… what are you doing?” you pulled from him closer.

“i can take it. please, spencer… make me take it.” he groaned, panting, canines digging into his lower lip until he tasted iron.

“you know it’ll hurt you, right?”

“i wouldn’t mind hurting if it’s for my husband.” you muttered against his lips, and licked the tear of blood on them.

“fuck. how can you…?” he stopped himself, his words stuck inside his chest as he gulped.

how could you be this perfect? how could he deserve you?

“please.” and how could he deny you? deny his queen? his goddess? his moon?

the stretch was almost unbearable. spencer had spat on his knot, trying to make it easier for you. but taking it, as a human, was a very tight fit and incredible feat.

he strived to distract you, of course, he peppered your face with kisses, licked at the salty tears that left your gorgeous doe eyes and swallowed your whimpers of pain as he encouraged you. his hungry eyes took in the sight of your pretty pussy lips spreading around him, slowly sucking and letting him in. they were pinkish now, puffy due to his previous lapping and sucking and now his animalistic thrusts. the sight was breathtaking.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, baby. i know it must hurt but you’re taking it so well, you’re taking me so good…” when it finally popped inside, you breathed in. you felt like you could pass out in pleasure. you were so full. he was in so deep… his dribbling tip was harshly pressed against your cervix. no space existed between you. “such a good girl… taking my knot. letting me knot her and pump her full of my pups…” he growled. and when your hips rocked in need, he didn’t wait to start fucking fuck back into you. the popping of his knot in and out of that tight ring of muscles added a squelching, dirty and sick pleasure to your union… and the sight… jesus. the way your mound bulged with each new drive of his cock into your heat…

you couldn’t stop moaning. whimpering. whining. crying out his name as he battered your cervix, fucking you dumb until spit dribbled from your plushy lips. he acted like a real animal —like the animal he was— when his tongue made sure to slurp the excess.

your high was approaching, you could almost taste it. spencer could smell it.

“close, pretty? gonna cum all over my cock? milk it just like you did with my fingers?” you nodded in hiccups, nails digging on his shoulders. “go ahead, show me how much you love my cock splitting you open.”

it was as if you were under a spell, ‘cause once the order, his permission, left his lips, you were crumbling. screaming. cumming and creaming so hard you feared once your vision turned white and your hearing clogged that you’d gone blind, deaf or died. maybe all of the above.

he kept fucking you through it. his canines lengthening, knot swelling. “so beautiful… gonna look even more once i pump you full, once i get you round with my pups. gonna look so plump…” his teeth nibbled at your perky nipples, making you gasp. “so prettily soft and swollen…” he sucked on them, as if he hoped milk would already come out. he was awaiting the day he could milk your breasts with his lips, taste you and the way your body changed for his baby. all because of him. “you want that, angel? want me to fuck all my cum into this greedy pussy or yours? knot you to make sure it takes? keep you plugged with it for hours before it swells down and i’m ready to do it all over again?” you nodded, desperately, tugging at his hair.

“yes, yes, yes, oh god spencer, please… i need it. i need your knot. need you to fuck me pregnant. want to give you pups.” he growled.

“the take it.” and all breath left your lungs when you felt him thrust for one last time, deeply, knot locking in place as it swelled impossibly bigger, so big tears stung your eyes. “take my cum. make me a daddy.” and you were cumming again when not only did he fill you up with his creamy, warm and thick cum, but sunk his teeth into the juncture of your neck hard enough to leave mark. to mar you. to finally… finally… make you his in the way that mattered. you were now his. body and soul. his wife before god, and his moon before the one that stood shining brightly above you.

rope after rope, he filled your womb. so much your belly swelled, his hot wicked tongue lapping at the wound he had just inflicted on your precious and perfect skin to clean it of any blood, to help it heal.

“mine.” he muttered against your lips, and you nodded.

“yours.”

spencer had always seen you as a lamb. precious, pure and fragile. prey. but he started to believe that it had been the other way all along.

i’m planning a part two. so don’t worry! you’ll be seeing more of these two. hope you liked it.🤎

You knocked on his door, shifting between your feet as you waited for him to open it. The door swung open almost instantly, as if he were standing right there waiting for your arrival. He was still dressed, but his tie and cardigan have both been discarded on a chair in the room; his hair a mess.  You could practically feel the desire behind his eyes.

“You made it impossible for me to get work done today,” you say as you walk past him into the room.

“My bad?” he responds, unsure if he should apologize.

"I mean it, Spencer. You've taken over my thoughts. I stared at that stupid map for hours, but couldn't think of anything but you," you say as you turn to face him, watching as he shuts the door and moves closer to you.

"And what do you suggest we do about that?" he teases, leaning in towards you.

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth- for your love is more delightful than wine. Song of Songs 1:2” you whisper before brushing your lips against his. 

Spencer doesn’t hesitate, kissing you greedily.

You wanted to take your time, finding the act of kissing him much more enjoyable than you anticipated, but you were still a little pent up from earlier and needed to hurry things along; judging by the tent in his pants, Spencer was feeling the same way. Without breaking the kiss, you nimbly unbutton his shirt; pushing it off his shoulders as he shrugs out of it. You run your hands down his bare torso, sending a shiver down his spine and a shaky breath slips from his mouth. His hands slide under your shirt, his fingers trailing up your sides. You pull back for a moment- just long enough to take off your shirt before capturing his lips with yours again in a needy kiss. You can feel him fumble with the hook of your bra, struggling to undo the clasp as you unbuckled his belt with ease, the proximity of your hands to his hard cock making it difficult for him to focus. 

His lips move from yours to your jawline, trailing kisses from the spot where your jawline meets your neck just below your ear down to your collarbone. He finally manages to unhook your bra, pushing the straps off your shoulder until the garment slips off, landing on the growing pile of discarded clothing.

“How beautiful you are, my darling. Oh how beautiful. Song of Songs 1:15,” he mumbles, admiring the sight of your bare chest.

“I thought quoting scripture was my thing,” you tease

“You aren’t the only one who knows the Bible, sweet girl," he murmurs as he presses open-mouth kisses to your breasts.

He wraps his mouth around one of your nipples, tongue flicking against the sensitive peak. You moan and arch into him, one of your hands tangling in his hair as a whimper escapes your lips. He smirks against your skin as he unzips your skirt, letting it slide down your legs. You step out of it as he continues kissing down your torso. He trails one of his hands between your thighs until his fingers brush against the soaked fabric of your panties.

He groans, "you're already so wet for me, baby."

"I told you- mmm- been thinking about you all day," you mumble, bucking your hips against his hand.

He hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs and exposing your soaked core. He gently pushes you onto the bed, making quick work of removing his pants and boxers before climbing over you. You buck your hips when you feel his cock between your legs, whining for him to give you what you've been craving. He lines himself up with your entrance, teasing just the tip inside. He moans as you grind against him in need of friction. He makes eye contact with you as he finally starts to move his hips.

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp when he pushes inside, his big cock stretching you out

He laughs breathlessly “Nope, still me”

You open your mouth to reply but your response is cut off with a moan as he bottoms out. 

“Fuck, angel, you feel so good,” he groans as he tries to give you time to adjust. 

After a moment of getting used to the stretch, you mumble, “Need you to move, Spence.”

He groans and slowly rocks his hips against yours, his cock slowly going in and out of your tight cunt. You can see in his face that he’s struggling to pace himself- desperate to lose himself in you. With every little whimper and moan that comes from you, his confidence seems to grow. His thrusts come faster and harder. You move your hands to his back, digging your nails into the skin as he slammed into you.

He slides one of his hands down to your thigh, moving your leg from its position around his waist and lifting it so it rests on his shoulder. The new angle allows him to hit your g-spot with every thrust, causing you to let out a string of curses under your breath. He smirks and kisses along your jawline, stopping by your ear to whisper, “Right there, huh?” 

“Uh-huh,” you answer, unable to form a proper sentence- too lost in pleasure to think of anything other than the way his cock is pounding into you. 

He groans when he feels your walls clench around his length. He slides his hand down to rub figure-8s on your clit, “Cum for me, angel. I want to feel you cum around me."

You arch up into him, crying out his name as your orgasm hits you,, wave after wave of pleasure wracking your body as he keeps moving his hips. You can feel his cock stiffen as he gets close, his thrusts increasing in speed and force. He gripped your leg tightly as he pressed himself into you and filled your sinful cunt with his cum as he chanted your name- unable to think of anything other than the pleasantly overwhelming sensation of his cock buried in your pussy. 

You both lie there panting heavily as you try to come down. Spencer lazily kisses along your shoulder as he catches his breath. He carefully pulls out of you, causing a whine to slip from your mouth at the loss.

He kisses his way down your body, mumbling between kisses, "Gonna clean you up, sweet girl.

“Let my beloved come into his garden and taste its choice fruits Song of Songs 4:16,” you mumble, the verse falling from your lips without a second thought. You see Spencer smirk as he spreads your legs further and settles between them, his face level with your sensitive cunt.

You can hear the sharp intake of his breath as he catches sight of his cum leaking from you.

You shiver in anticipation when you feel his breath on your core. He chuckles and looks up at you, making eye contact before his tongue darts out and he tentatively licks a stripe up your folds causing you to gasp. Your hands instinctively reach for him, tangling your fingers in his curls. He moans against your core when you tug on his hair, eliciting a whimper from you. He gently sucks on your sensitive clit, savoring the needy sounds you were making. Spencer gathers some of the combination of your wetness and his cum on his fingers. He shifts and holds his glistening fingers up to your lips, "Have a taste."

You lick his fingers clean, maintaining eye contact, moaning as the taste hits your tongue. His mouth was instantly back on you, his eyes fluttering shut as he started to devour you. He hummed against you as you whined and moaned with each movement of his tongue. He pushed his fingers into your wet cunt, pumping them in and out to bring you closer to release. Your thighs clamped around him and you held him in place by his hair, desperate for more.

“That's it. Let me take care of you, angel,” he mumbled, feeling your walls flutter around his fingers

He continues his ministrations, pumping his fingers into your wet cunt as he teases your clit with his tongue. He hooks his fingers just right and it's enough to send you over the edge. You arch into him, tugging on his hair as he works you through your orgasm, not stopping until you're writhing from the overstimulation. He slips his fingers from you, looking up at you as he sucks them clean with a satisfied moan. He smirks at the small noise you make in response before kissing his way up your torso until he's eye level with you.

“I might be your Jesus, but you’re my personal Aphrodite,” he murmurs as he brushes a stray hair out of your face.

“Wrong pantheon, Spence," you retort with a breathless laugh

“Actually, there's a lot of parallels between Greek myths and biblical stories, likely because of the shared culture of those creating each mythos. For example, the miracles performed by Jesus are similar to those said to have been performed by Asclepius, the Greek god of medicine," he explains, wrapping an arm around you to pull you close.

You settle against him, resting your head on his chest. He presses a light kiss to your forehead, mumbling "you did so good, angel. Get some rest now."

You hum in acknowledgment as you close your eyes, drifting off in his arms.

Everything came to a head when the team was going after Everett Lynch aka The Chameleon. You knew his mother was inside and operating under the impression that Roberta was planning to kill her son, you knew you needed to act fast. As you started to lead the SWAT team inside, JJ got a call from Rossi informing her that Roberta’s plan wasn’t to kill Lynch, but to die with him. You’re too close to the door for her to get your attention, but she manages to tell Spencer who takes off towards you, shouting your name. He throws himself at you and shields you from the explosion, taking the brunt of the blast. The two of you appear largely unscathed, but your ears won’t stop ringing. The medics check over both of you and give you the a-okay to fly home. The flight is quiet with everyone finding their own little spot on the plane to decompress after the difficult case and its literally explosive conclusion. You don’t speak to Spencer, though you know you need to, especially after he saved your life, but you know this isn’t a discussion you can have with the rest of the team around so instead you absentmindedly scroll on your phone, occasionally glancing at him from your seat on the opposite end of the plane. It’s obvious he’s deep in thought, but then again, so is everyone else. You make yourself comfortable for the duration of the flight, ignoring the conversation you’ll need to have soon.

  Once the plane lands, you all go your separate ways. You almost reach out to Spencer, but ultimately decide you need to be alone to figure out what you’re going to say to him. You know that it’s becoming increasingly obvious that he’d die for you and you’re not sure you feel as strongly about him. The next morning you head into work, determined to talk this out with him. As the team gathers around the table for a debrief, he still hasn’t shown. Once you’ve all worked out that Everett Lynch is still alive, Emily sends you with Garcia to check up on Spencer while JJ, Alvez, and Simmons work on contacting state troopers and Rossi lets his wife know the situation. When you arrive at his place, you knock on the door, but there’s no answer. You pull out the spare key you have for emergencies and unlock the door, pushing it open to step inside. 

  When you see him collapsed on the floor, your heart drops to your stomach. It hits you that this has to be connected to the blast yesterday, the guilt eating you alive as you kneel down next to him and frantically try to wake him up while Garcia calls the ambulance. You do your best to stay calm and remember your first aid training as he starts to have a seizure. The next 30 minutes are a blur as the medics arrive and transport him to the nearest ER. You’re in the lobby with Garcia as they wheel him past, the two of you following into his room. You intend to stay by his side until he wakes up, but your phone beeps, signaling a message from Emily, and you know you have to go help with Lynch. You make it back to the Bureau, but the image of Spencer on his apartment floor hasn’t left your mind. You force yourself to focus as you walk into the conference room and grab a chair. 

 You’re all sitting around the round table when Garcia calls to give an update; he’s stable and he’s opened his eyes. As you listen to JJ say, “please tell him I will be there as soon as I can,” it hits you that you can’t see him like that again- in a hospital bed after nearly dying from a brain injury he got while protecting you. You can’t watch him continually risk his life for you when you aren’t sure you’d do the same for him. 

 After the team arrests Lynch, you pull Emily aside before she can leave to go visit Spencer. You let her know that you need to take some time off and that you’ll be putting in for a transfer. You can tell she wants to encourage you to stay, but there must be something in your eyes that lets her know you’ve already made up your mind. She reluctantly agrees and tells you that she’s loved working with you, to let her know if you ever need anything, and that if you change your mind, she’ll make a spot for you. You give her a hug and a terse smile before saying goodbye. Despite your guilt over the situation, you can’t bring yourself to step foot in that hospital room, knowing the look on Spencer’s face when he finds out will break your heart. You hope that Spencer will forgive you for leaving like this, but you can’t say goodbye; seeing him will only drag you back in and you don’t want him to die for you. Instead, you’ll go home and force yourself to move on from the case, the team, and Spencer; convincing yourself that no matter how much you’ll miss them, this is for the best.