ᝰ.ᐟ ── 𝓞𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢

It was a habit at this point. Two taps every Friday night on your window at exactly 11 PM. You’d open it, a cool breeze rushing in as he climbed into your room. 

You knew your father would lose his mind if he knew what happened between you. He had made it clear that you were not to engage with anyone in the BAU, especially one that was ten years older than you. 

But how could you help it when you saw Aaron smile at you from across the room during one of your father’s dinner parties? The way his eyes sparkled, the dimple that appeared on his cheek– it was all too perfect.

He was smart enough to assume your father wouldn’t care to see you flirting, so he formed a strategy. Brushing against you in the breezeway, he slipped his number in your pocket, his large hands brushing against your thigh as he passed. 

One call turned to another, and the tension grew with each word you spoke to each other. You couldn’t resist any longer, and the hushed conversations turned into a plan. He’d come to your window, knocking twice after climbing the lattice up to your balcony. 

That’s how the arrangement turned into a routine, a meetup to end the week on a high note. You knew that every time he snuck in, you increased the risk of being caught, but the two of you had stopped caring the moment you realized how perfectly your bodies fit together. 

This week has been rough for you, your college courses overwhelming you with work and tests. You’d only held it together knowing Aaron would be climbing into your room at the end of it all.

And, here he was, leaning against the wall in his button up and slacks. His tie and jacket must’ve been dropped when he stopped at his house, waiting for you to call to tell him he was in the clear. 

He gives you a look over, half lust and half analysis. “Long week?” 

“Very,” you say with a groan, flopping down onto your bed. 

He chuckles, moving closer. “As dramatic as usual, I see.”

Your foot reaches out, nudging his thigh. “I need a handsome man to make it better, I think.”

He grins. “And am I to assume I’m said handsome man?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be anyone else.”

It’s all he needs to lean in, pulling you to the edge of the bed. You know that’s your cue to take off your top, leaving you in just your bra. He bites down a groan at the sight, pulling down your sweatpants. 

Looking down at you, he raises an eyebrow. “No panties? Really?”

“Just trying to make your job easier,” you say with a deceptively innocent smile.

He huffs out a laugh, leaning in to kiss up the inside of your thighs. “Naughty girl.”

You giggle, grasping at his hair as he nips at your skin. Your giggle turns to a gasp as his lips land where you want him most. His tongue teasingly nudges at your clit, the touch just light enough to have your heart racing. 

His hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider as he presses his tongue into you. Dark brown eyes flutter shut at the taste. He always does this, acts like it’s the best thing that’s ever fallen on his lips. 

Whenever he eats you out, it’s like he can’t control himself. He starts out slow, trying not to overwhelm you. He slowly licks stripes up your slit, gathering the wetness that’s inevitably gathered. 

The taste of you possesses him, though, and soon he can’t bring himself to care that you’re squirming beneath him. He pushes his tongue inside your hole, feeling the gummy walls squeeze around him. He drags his teeth along your swollen bud and nips at spots he knows are sensitive. And, tonight, he slides his fingers inside you as his lips wrap around your clit. 

Your hips push closer to him, moving his fingers even deeper. He curls them against your sweet spot, whining into your heat as you clench hard around his digits. This is his favorite part, seeing the pleasure overtake you.

But he won’t let it happen just yet. He knows you like to be strung along. So he pulls away, standing back to watch you as you catch your breath.

“More,” you whimper, thighs rubbing together for any sort of friction you can get. 

He smiles at your desperation, quickly shedding his clothes. You free yourself from your bra and reach out for him. He can’t help but lean into your touch, moving to hover over you on the bed. 

You’re quick to pull him down into a kiss. His tongue darts out as your lips part, and you can taste yourself in his mouth. Aaron grabs at any bit of skin he can reach, leaving a tingling with the break of each grasp. 

His knee slides between your thighs, giving you something to grind against. You mindlessly rock your hips, whines turning to giggles as he plants kisses all over your face. 

Even now, in the heat of your intimacy, he finds a way to let out the side of him that’s so overly affectionate it’s almost goofy. Laughter escapes both of you as he moves to line himself up with your entrance. 

Aaron gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, too sweet for the way he’s about to ruin you. “You ready?”

You nod, legs falling open wider. He presses another kiss to your forehead before sliding his tip inside of you. 

A sharp contrast from the way he eats you out, he always takes this slowly, watching how your body begs for more. 

Your head rolls to the side and your vision is filled with the image of his strong arms framing your face. They’re thick from training, a physique fresh out of the academy’s long conditioning sessions. You reach up, wrapping your fingers around his thick shoulder as he slips deeper inside of you. 

Your heart stutters when he bottoms out, the sweet stretch filling every one of your senses. He watches your pupils dilate as the sensation overtakes you, the primal need to be one with him. 

The first time you were together, you worried that you’d be too loud. Now, you know that your father’s room is too far away to sense even a hint of what’s going on in your room. You moan unabashedly as he thrusts for the first time. 

Aaron groans with you, shutting his eyes as your tight walls pull him even closer inside. He’s anything but uptight with you, letting you know just how good he feels with you. Your room is his refuge, the one place he doesn’t need to prove himself to any higher-up agents waiting for him to slip up. 

He starts slow, teasing you as his tip drags along the ridges of your soft walls. He hardly hears your sounds of pleasure, his mind simply filled with how you flutter like a heartbeat around his hard length. 

He doesn’t realize that he’s speeding up until the sound of skin hitting skin becomes too prominent to ignore. Your breath hitches as his thrusts start to hit right where you need him, heels digging into the small of his back as your legs wrap around him. 

The position pulls him in more, and he nearly whimpers at the depth. His large hands capture your waist, fingers digging into your soft stomach. 

Your hands dig into his shoulders, half-moon shaped indents marking the skin that’s illuminated by the moonlight streaming in from your window. 

Tension mounting in your body, he can tell you’re moving closer to your peak. 

“Come for me,” he whispers into your ear, gently biting your earlobe. 

The nip is all it takes to send you over the edge, tumbling into a haze of pleasure. You’re so caught up in your orgasm that you don’t realize he’s followed behind until you feel his release dripping onto the sheets as he pulls out.

He flops down beside you, the air too warm to cuddle right away. Aaron gently plays with a strand of your hair, gazing at your flushed face. 

He breaks the silence. “Same time next week?”

The air was thick with the scent of cheap beer, pumpkin spice candles that someone had overdone, and that unmistakable tang of college Halloween—sweat mixed with body spray and too many fog machines.

Your red hooded cape draped over one shoulder, the short plaid skirt barely grazing your thighs, and the white blouse unbuttoned just enough to tease the black lace bra beneath. Little Red Riding Hood, but the kind that wandered into the woods knowing exactly what kind of wolf she might find. Fishnet stockings clung to your legs, ending in chunky black boots that clicked against the sticky floorboards.

Aaron had been smirking at you all night, his dark eyes tracking your every move like he was already plotting the hunt.

He hadn't gone for subtlety with his costume either—a tailored black button-down stretched across his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up to show off forearms that looked like they could bench-press a keg. Faux fur wolf ears perched on his head, and a pair of fangs glinted when he grinned, but it was the way he carried himself that sold it: all coiled intensity, like the Big Bad Wolf who'd traded his pelt for a law student's swagger. You'd laughed when he'd shown up at your dorm like that, calling him out for leaning too hard into the irony.

"What, afraid I'll eat you alive?" he'd growled, voice low and teasing, his hand brushing your hip as he pulled you close.

Situationship perks: no explanations needed, just that electric hum between you that said tonight could go anywhere.

The party was a blur of jack-o'-lantern shots and sloppy dances, coeds in angel wings grinding against guys dressed as zombies. You lost count of the tequila sunrises after the third, the warmth spreading through your veins like liquid fire, loosening your inhibitions just enough to match Aaron's energy.

He was nursing a whiskey neat—always the one trying to play responsible, even three drinks in— but his free hand never strayed far from you. A brush against your lower back as he leaned in to murmur something filthy about how that hood made him want to drag you off the path. A graze of his thumb over your knuckles when he passed you another drink. The tension coiled tighter with every stolen glance, every laugh that lingered too long.

By midnight, the room spun in that hazy, perfect way, the kind where bad ideas feel like the best ones. You were sandwiched between him and a makeshift bar in the kitchen, his chest pressing against your back as he reached over your head for the vodka.

The heat of him seeped through your thin blouse, his breath hot against your ear. "You're driving me fucking insane in that skirt," he rumbled, lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice had that gravelly edge from the liquor, deeper than usual, sending a shiver straight to your core. You arched back into him just to feel him harden against your ass, a soft gasp escaping as his hand settled possessively on your hip.

"Am I?" you teased, turning your head to nip at his jaw. The wolf ears tickled your cheek. "Thought you were supposed to chase me first."

His chuckle was dark, promising. "Oh, I'm chasing, Little Red. Just waiting for you to run." But he didn't wait long. The next song dropped—heavy, pulsing—and his fingers tightened, guiding you through the throng of bodies toward the back hallway. Your heart hammered, anticipation buzzing like the alcohol in your blood.

The bathroom door loomed at the end of the dim corridor, a single flickering bulb casting shadows that made his profile look sharper, more predatory. He shouldered it open, tugging you inside before kicking it shut with his boot. The lock clicked, and suddenly the party's roar faded to a muffled hum, leaving just the two of you, breaths syncing in the tiled echo.

Aaron didn't waste time. He spun you against the sink, the porcelain cool against your back as his mouth crashed into yours. Hungry, demanding—teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue sweeping in like he owned the taste of you. You moaned into it, hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer until his hips pinned yours. The kiss tasted like whiskey and lime, sharp and addictive, and god, the way he kissed when he was buzzed: no holding back, just raw want. His hands roamed, one sliding up your thigh under the skirt, fingers digging into the fishnets with enough pressure to make you whimper.

"Fuck, look at you," he growled against your mouth, breaking just enough to trail bites down your neck. His fangs—fake, but the scrape of them sent sparks flying—grazed your pulse point. "Prancing around all night like a little tease in that hood. You know what you do to me, don't you?" His voice dropped lower, that dom edge slipping in like velvet over steel.

You nodded, breathless, arching into his touch as his fingers found the edge of your panties, brushing over the damp lace. "Say it. Tell me you're my dirty little Red, begging for the wolf to ruin you."

"Yes," you gasped, the words tumbling out slurry from the drinks, but fuck if they didn't feel right. "Please, Aaron—"

He hummed approval, but there was a wicked glint in his eye as he hooked his fingers in the lace and yanked them down your thighs. "That's my good girl. So eager, so wet already. You've been dripping for me since we walked in, haven't you? Fantasizing about me bending you over in front of everyone." Degradation laced his praise like sin and sugar, making your thighs clench.

He straightened, towering over you, and you caught the bulge straining against his slacks—impressive, insistent. Your hands went for his belt, fumbling with the buckle until he caught your wrists in one big palm, pinning them above your head against the mirror.

"Ah-ah," he tsked, free hand coming up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek. "You don't get to rush this. Not when you've been such a needy slut all night, grinding on me like you can't wait to get fucked." The words hit like a spark, heat flooding your cheeks even as your core throbbed. But then he softened it, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth, voice turning coaxing. "But you're my needy slut, aren't you? So perfect, taking what I give you. Gonna make you feel so good, baby."

You nodded frantically, wrists flexing in his grip, and he rewarded you with a slow, deep kiss that left you dizzy. Releasing your hands, he spun you around to face the mirror, your palms slapping against the glass for balance. The reflection stared back: your cape askew, hood half-fallen, lipstick smudged like war paint. Aaron behind you, wolf ears crooked, eyes dark with intent as he hiked your skirt up over your hips.

The cool air hit your bare skin, and you pushed back against him instinctively, earning a sharp smack to your ass—not hard, just enough to sting and make you yelp.

"Patience," he murmured, but his own breath hitched as he freed himself, the sound of his zipper echoing. You watched in the mirror as he stroked himself once, thick and hard, the tip glistening. "Spread your legs for me. Show me how bad you want it." You did, boots scooting apart on the tile, and he groaned low, lining up. The first press of him against your entrance was teasing, shallow, making you whine. "That's it—fuck, you're so tight. Taking me like you were made for it."

He thrust in then, one smooth roll of his hips burying him to the hilt, and you cried out, the stretch burning sweet from the angle. No preamble, just him filling you completely, the party noise a distant roar compared to the wet slap of skin.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you back to meet each drive—deep, deliberate, like he was claiming every inch. "God, listen to you," he panted, leaning over you, chest to your back. One hand slid up your spine, fisting in the hood to yank your head back gently, exposing your throat. "Moaning like a whore for my cock. But you're my good little whore, clenching around me so pretty. Yeah, just like that—milk me, baby." His drunken thoughts spilling out.

The praise made you flutter around him, hips bucking to chase the building pressure. He was relentless, pace quickening, the mirror fogging at the edges from your shared breaths. Sweat beaded on his brow, those wolf ears making him look almost boyish in his ferocity, but the way he fucked you was all man—controlled power, every snap of his hips angled to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

You were close, teetering, when his hand moved. It wrapped around your throat from behind, fingers splaying wide, not squeezing yet—just holding, a warm weight that made your pulse thunder under his palm. "You like that?" he rasped, voice rough with his own restraint. "My hand on your neck, owning you while I fuck this sweet pussy?" You nodded, words lost in a keen, and he tightened—just enough, pressure blooming like a bruise you craved. Air hitched in your lungs, sharpening every sensation: the drag of him inside you, the rough denim of his jeans chafing your thighs, the distant bass syncing with your heartbeat.

"Fuck, yes—breathe for me, pretty girl," he commanded, thumb stroking your jaw even as he choked you lightly, rolling his hips slower now, deeper. Degradation twisted with the care in his tone. "Such a filthy thing, coming apart in a bathroom like this. But look at you—so goddamn beautiful when you're desperate. Gonna come on my cock? Show me how good you take it." The mix undid you: the edge of breathlessness making your vision sparkle, his words wrapping around you like ropes.

You shattered, walls pulsing around him, a choked sob tearing from your throat as waves crashed over you. He held you through it, hand firm but never cruel, murmuring, "That's my girl—coming so hard for me. Perfect, fuck, you're perfect."

He followed seconds later, thrusts erratic, a guttural groan muffled against your shoulder as he spilled inside you, hot and claiming. His grip on your throat loosened immediately, both hands sliding to your waist to steady you as you sagged against the sink. The aftershocks trembled through you, legs jelly, but he was there—kissing the back of your neck, soft now, the wolf sated.

For a minute, you just breathed together, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, the mirror reflecting two flushed faces under crooked costumes. He pulled out gently, tucking himself away before spinning you to face him. His fingers—those same ones that had just commanded your breath—brushed your hair back, tucking the hood into place with a lopsided grin. "You okay?" he asked, voice soft, thumb tracing your swollen lips. The concern was real, cutting through the haze, making your chest ache in the best way.

"More than," you murmured, stealing a lazy kiss. The tequila buzz lingered, but so did the warmth of him, solid and steady. "Worth the chase."

He laughed, low and genuine, pulling you into his chest for a hug that smelled like cologne and home. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet, Red." His hand slipped down to squeeze your ass playfully, fangs flashing in that boyish smile. "Party's still going. Think you can walk?"

You smirked, straightening your skirt—panties abandoned in the sink, a secret for later—and looped your arm through his. "Only if you promise to carry me if I can't."

"Deal." He unlocked the door, the roar of the party spilling back in like applause. As you slipped into the crowd, his fingers laced with yours under the cape, the wolf's grip loose but unyielding.

Situationship or not, nights like this?

They felt like something more—something wild, something yours. And as the fog machines swirled around you, hood up and heart racing, you couldn't wait to see what path he'd drag you down next.

Not a day went by where your family wasn’t talking about you becoming a lawyer. It became such a usual conversation topic you nearly forgot it wasn’t your idea. 

But you pretended it was. Besides, going down the coast for your law degree couldn’t be that horrible. George Washington University was far enough from family that you wouldn’t feel pressured into doing anything you didn’t truly want. 

Which included the fact your parents wanted you to live on campus. Which you wouldn’t mind if you didn’t see that another first year was looking for a roommate about five minutes off grounds. 

All your life you’d shared a room with your siblings. Literally from the day they were born up until graduation. Your sister and you shared a room, sometimes forced to share with your brother. So of course you leaped at a chance for your own space, own area. 

And your now roommate, Louise Davis, was just the entry you needed. She was a biology major, you were there for political science and a minor for criminal justice. 

A good duo. 

There were rarely any classes together. You planned to take the necessary art class together though, a chance to have some time together where you’re not just mutually studying. 

And you’d now been roommates for two, going on three years. Like sisters practically. Told each other everything, and really… everything. You knew WAY too much about her love and sex life with her boyfriend, Jared. 

They’d been a whole ‘will they/won't they’ since freshman year but apparently sometimes over the summer he asked her out and they’d been together since. 

Which was swell and all but you were… not a fan of his roommate. Aaron Hotchner. You were there for the same major but he was always acting like he had all the time in the world for everything. 

You weren’t entirely sure you saw a time where he wasn’t grinning like a goof or laughing at something either he or Jared had said. 

In classes you shared, sure, he took notes. But at the same time he was drawing stupid little figures into the margins of his lined paper. 

Not that you took notice of them that much. Just those days he sat close enough that you caught a glimpse. You hated those days. 

The way he seemed to care less and less made you so… mad? Like he shouldn’t even be in these classes. This school even. Why you cared about his studies or lack thereof was completely questionable to you. 

But regardless, the nights where Louise begged you to go out with her and Jared were hard. You wanted to study, she told you there was still two weeks until the paper was due and practically dragged you out of the apartment. 

And each time it of course wasn’t just you two. Nope. Aaron was there. And sure, you should have been less stiff. Been able to let go, drink a few drinks, dance even. But all you could think of was that you weren’t home studying. 

Which was apparently noticeable by everyone around you. “Seriously, y/n, you need to take a break. I don’t think I have ever seen you just… be.” Louise had a large smile on her face, cheeks tinted red from the warmth and alcohol in her system. And her words were lighthearted. 

She wanted you to have a good time. To not be bound down because of your studies. Louise knew you were only this hard on yourself because you were the oldest of three, an oldest daughter at that and you knew you had to succeed. 

She knew. 

But she also knew that you needed to breathe. Find a way to be yourself in ways you wouldn’t let yourself. Which was evident with the shake of your head, “Lou, really, it’s bad enough I’m out right now instead of starting my essay for Korofsky’s class. The last thing I need is to get distracted.”

He was your harshest teacher and you were constantly terrified he’d write off your work and down play what you got. 

It wouldn’t surprise you. He always half offed the girls grades in class. How the hell did Aaron fucking Hotchner get a near perfect score on his probably half assed paper but you got a near ten points less?

You slept a total of five hours in the three nights it took you to write that. But he got a better score. Maybe that’s what ticked you off about the boy. 

He didn’t try. And apparently didn’t have to try like you did. And it got right up under your skin. Especially now, you needed to be home, writing and you knew that’s where you’d rather be. 

But he was out in the middle of the dance floor, probably three beers deep with Jared who was half dancing, half waiting for his girlfriend to join him. 

“Oh come on y/n/n. It’s one night.”

“A lot of stuff happens in one night. Seriously, you go dance. I’m good right here.” You said glancing around for any chance you could get to run off. Any chance. 

There didn’t seem to be one for a while after Louise ran off, her eyes going over to you too much to make a smooth getaway. 

And that dwindled when the Bain of your existence came up next to you, “why aren’t you out there?” Aaron questioned, out of breath with bright red cheeks. He leaned on the table, hoping it would give enough leverage that he could catch his breath. 

You gave him the cold shoulder, not responding. Not unusual. He noted the way you ignored his existence quickly. Did he have any idea why you hated him? Nope. Not a clue. But he wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t make him want to bother you more. 

He liked annoying you, hoping at some point you’d crack and decide that he wasn’t a horrible person. Because he wasn’t. He was just following his fathers footsteps. Which you didn’t know but that didn’t matter to either of you. 

“Oh come on, you’re gonna ignore me now too? This isn’t karofsky’s class where I’m asking for your notes.” He sighed, looking over at you, giving you an expectant smile when you looked back. 

Slightly you sighed, sipping the virgin Shirley temple you had in front of you, “I don’t want to be out there.” You gave in a monotone voice. Clearly wanting both him to go away and not talk to you. 

Ever. 

“Why not? They have some pretty good music-“

“I just don’t.” Your voice came out snappier than intended but the constant harassment of why you didn’t want to be out was just added to the annoyance of said instance. 

Somehow Aaron seemed to understand that, nodding, “Alright. If you want help sneaking out, I can help.” His offer genuinely surprised you. 

You looked him over, he was a college boy so you felt like you should be weary, but he was also friends with Jared who was nice enough for you to trust who he kept company with. 

Even with the slight hesitation you nodded, “Would you?” He nodded instantly. Unbeknownst to you he was all for secrets and assisting in them. 

“Course, come on. I’ll tell them you felt sick, walked you home.” He held his arm out to you which you took, shockingly, before walking out with him. 

Whether Louise and/or Jared noticed didn’t even matter, you seemed perfectly okay walking out of the small bar with the kid you swore up and down you hated and it wasn’t that horrible. 

That’s when things shifted. You had formed some sort of alliance with him. He acted like he wanted nothing to do with you so Jared would have a reason to tell Louise not to invite you out more. Which she hated and did anyway but when you said the same thing back to her she bit her cheek and dropped it. 

It was like a magical form of detestment. Except now you wanted to be around him. You didn’t put those thoughts over your work. Never ever. But when you went to class you didn’t mind if you ‘had’ to sit next to him. 

He didn’t seem to mind either. Especially not when you were the quiet one that had all your note taking stuff ready in front of you before class started and he got to just go off about some stupid shit Jared did that morning. 

A lot of the time you wanted to tell him to shut up, but truthfully you did happen to half smile at his words sometimes. And it was like he was chasing that. Like he wanted to see it. 

And maybe he did. 

But he’d never admit that. Not even on his death bed. Because he was nearly sure you were still indifferent to him. Which you weren’t. 

Lots of miscommunication and misunderstanding going on but neither of you were brave enough to confront it and set things straight. 

It wasn’t like you had given up on school, that was still your focus and 9/10 you were truly nose deep in your work or a text book for whatever class it was that kept you away from everyone. 

Near the end of the year it was worse. The last couple of months were hell. Your eyes burned more easily. Words blurred together on the paper and the library was practically your first home. Not even second. First. 

You’d leave there later than anyone, which was admittedly creepy (you were convinced it was haunted), but you still did it anyway. Getting there after your last class of the day and just pouring every remaining brain cell into the papers and homework that were due. 

It was tiring. Exhausting. The amount of times your hand cramped up from the fast paced cursive you wrote out couldn’t be counted on your fingers and your knee bounced with every second you had to reread a line. 

Because that didn’t say that did it? Oh it did… no it didn’t. 

You really couldn’t make out this last chapter for the semester, none of the words making any goddamn sense and it was making you so frustrated you wanted to cry. 

There was a throbbing in your temple that was working its way across your forehead and it really felt like your brain was going to explode. Could that happen? Who cares, that’s what it felt like. 

Honestly, your presence at the library was very noticed. If not by the librarians then the other students that also frequented. Can you guess who one of those students would be?

Aaron. He noticed because everyday he’d sit at least an hour to catch up on notes he’d missed in class thanks to whoever was kind enough to give him the in between stuff and each time he managed to find you. 

It helped that you had a designated spot. Honorary of course. You liked being in the corner, against the far wall. Sure you used one of the bigger tables but it was never clear. Always covered with something. A text book. Notebooks. Loose papers. Everything or a mix of it. 

Regardless it made it rather easy to spot you. The highlighter colored jacket you wore quite often brought his eyes over to you easily, plenty of times. 

A part of him thought he should stay where he was at but he just couldn’t ignore you. “Do you ever go home?” He asked as he sat across from you. 

No wait for an invitation, just… sat. You looked up at him without lifting your head. 

“Do you ever study?” Your voice tight. “Yes, now leave me alone.” You sighed, stressed enough as is, that you couldn’t focus on the words on the paper. Of course he didn’t listen, because why would he?

Instead he just stayed across, crossing his arms on the table and looking over at what exactly you were reading. “What class is that for?” He tried to question, a groan of annoyance leaving your mouth. 

“Do you know what leave me alone means?” You asked, finally looking at him. He scrunched his nose up, his eye doing the same as he hummed. 

“Mmm, not entirely. Come on, you never take a break… that’s gotta get tiring,” He continued, eyes on you fully.

It slightly burned that he was just staring, trying to ignore the way it made you slightly self conscious. “I don’t want to take a break. Can you just-“

“Leave you alone, yeah yeah, heard that before.” He said, “How about instead of interrogating you, I ask how your studying is going?” He shifted, you biting your cheek. 

“Admittedly not great.” You confessed for some reason, subconsciously craving some sort of buffer before returning to work as you sighed, “I’m trying to focus and it isn’t happening. You’re really not helping either.”

Aaron smiled, “Well if it already wasn’t going great then how much worse would I be making it?” He offered with a chuckle, tilting his head. 

You wanted to argue his words but, he sadly had somewhat of a point. “Oh shut up. I’m serious.” You ended up spilling how and why you had truthfully hit a block that was practically killing you. 

“Would it help if someone read it to you? Take notes from that?” He asked and for a second you thought it was a stupid question. But honestly, it could help. 

You shrugged, “Maybe? But it’s not like there’s an audio version of this just laying around.” You muttered, trying to focus on again as Aaron laughed lightly. 

“Well I was going to offer to read it myself but you seem to be very well off on your own so I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait.” You cut him off, grabbing his hand as he went to stand and leave. “It’s worth a try. I really need to go over this tonight.” You felt crazy asking, even crazier for the fact that you’re hand stayed where it was the entirety of the time you spoke and as he sat back down in the chair. 

Quickly you pulled it back, turning the text book to him. “I’m here but honestly, I don’t know what the hell the first couple pages were so…”

You trailed off but he nodded, flipping to the opening page. “No worries, I’ll start from the beginning.” He replied casually, like he genuinely didn’t mind that he was here, helping. 

His voice was all you focused on as he read word for word, line by line through every last page. It truthfully was helping immensely that you could tell him to stop and he would, elaborating when needed. 

It was nice. 

But you’d never admit that. You kept the straight line of your lips on your face and no other emotion behind your eyes. You were in school for a serious degree that you were serious about getting. 

There was no need to mess around and get comfortable with a boy. At all. (But you wanted to.)

Instead of acting on anything you just let him read, unaware of how his eyes went over every once in a while, adoring the way your hair slipped over your shoulder. A chuckle leaving his lips when you told him to pause so you could tie back said hair. 

By the end you had a pretty solid few pages of notes and a satisfied Aaron. 

“Honestly, I think I understood more by reading that out loud than I ever have by reading it to myself.” He admitted, closing the book and slipping it over to your pile that was admittedly messy. 

You started putting away everything, glancing at him, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe we can make this a thing. I read, you write, I… copy the notes you take so I have a more digestible version?” He offered and you wanted to say no. 

Being with him as is was enough. But it helped a lot. And it helped him. God why did you care that it helped him too? You sighed, tightening the ponytail that had been made an hour ago, nodding. 

“How do you do it?” You asked, his look of confusion making you take in a breath. “You’re always laughing. Or goofing off. I hardly ever even see you take notes in class. This is a serious job we’re going into and you’re just… not. How do you do it?”

Aaron hesitated before shrugging faintly, “I don’t know, it’s just how I am I guess..” He trailed off, watching for your reaction and for an inevitable answer to his offer.

“Alright, we can do this again.” Your voice tight. Hiding… something behind it that he took note of, too tired to try and go into it today, well, tonight. It was technically tomorrow now since it was 1am. 

Aaron smiled, standing, “I’ll walk you to your apartment.”

“Your apartment is on the opposite side of campus. I’ll be fine.” You brushed off his statement, his dark brown eyes immediately darkening. 

“Y/n, it’s almost 1:30 in the morning and from here your apartment is on the opposite side of campus and then some. I’m walking you.” His words left no room for disagreement and truthfully you’d never seen him sound as serious as he just did. 

There was always some sort of goofiness or joke behind his tone. But this? You simply nodded at him, deciding to not argue and just go with it. He’d be the one walking back and forth. Not your problem. 

“Fine.” You muttered, finally zipping the backpack you brought with you up and lugging it onto your back. The weight of it did nothing but make your body ache but you had to carry it all so you learned to ignore it. 

Aaron glanced at you, “you want me to carry that?” His voice back to being lighthearted as he gestured to the bag. 

“I got it.” You said with a shake of your head, immediately feeling a bit guilty at how harsh that had come out so you glanced back at him, “thank you though.” A shift in your tone. 

Maybe you were starting to not hate him as much as you thought you did. 

—

“Y/n, are you listening to me?” Louise looked over at you, your nose in a book that was shockingly, not actually school related. It instead was just a pleasure read and you were trying to be content with that.

She wasn’t of course, “Oh come on. That’s not even for school and you’re still focused more on that than the fact I’m trying to plan you a birthday party?” Her weight was next to you in your bed in seconds, no sense of personal space known to her.

You sighed, tucking the small bookmark into the book and putting it on the bedside table. “Lou, I have told you like, a million and one times. I don’t want a birthday party. It’s not like it’s a milestone-”

“25 most definitely is a milestone. You have one year left at this school before you’re officially off, being whatever lawyer you’re going to be. This is my last year here. So therefore. Milestone. Now. I’m thinking we just do something at that bar we went to across town.” Louise rambled off, her legs crossing.

You pursed your lips, deciding to just give into her vision. “Okay, okay. So are you like, wanting ideas? Or?” You questioned, leaning back on your bed a bit to finally stretch some from where you were.

“Yes! Yes please. I know you like The Addams family and Halloween and it’s very out of season to do but would you want to do a costume party?” Her question made your eyebrows raise. How she even knew that you had no idea. 

It wasn’t like you were loud and proud about your likeness of the spooky season or the movie, aside from the fact you went and saw it three times when it came out. “That… would actually be really, really, cool.” You admitted,

“And before you ask, you can be Morticia, I know you’ve been dying to be her for halloween.” You didn’t even have to think as you spoke, you did love the movie but if you were going to dress up as anything it was going to be something completely different than what she would be thinking.

Louise’s eyes widened, “Oh I love you so much, okay, I’m gonna start planning everything, don’t worry.” She leaned forward to hug you tightly, practically snapping your back before she hopped up, already having a thousand ideas in her mind about the party.

On the same hand, you were thinking over what to be. There were two main options, pull out the Dorothy from the wizard of Oz dress from a couple years ago or look for a Princess Leia outfit. Considering you were recently back into Star Wars the latter won and you were hoping to god you could find something to wear.

—

The weekend of the party got here quickly. Quicker than you’d like but truthfully it didn’t matter much since you had already gotten all the pieces necessary for your costume, now just sitting in front of your mirror attempting to perfect the hairstyle Leia wore with it.

Different than the usual side buns since you opted for the more conservative outfit from Return of the Jedi. Meaning a nice braided crown was all you needed and was majorly simple in comparison to keeping the two buns even or stopping them from drooping. All would’ve been roadblockers. 

“Are you ready?” Louise’s voice called out, poking her head through the door. “Oh god, you are such a dork.” A small smile on her face. She’d already seen both Jared and Aaron’s costumes and was ready to leave.

You stood, turning, “Yeah, yeah, but does it look okay?” You questioned, worryful that it would look weird on you. Louise had seen the movies but she wasn’t as into them as you were. She came in, stepping around you.

“Amazing, come on. The boys are waiting.” She pulled your arm, taking you from the room and the two boys were in the living room. 

Jared of course was matching with Louise, a nice suit that looked like Gomez’ and his hair slicked back. It was fitting. Very nice.

You froze as you looked at Aaron, “Oh you’re kidding..” You muttered, looking over his brown pants, beige long sleeved shirt and dark blue vest down to the leg harness and fake gun that mirrored yours in it. “Han Solo?”

“Princess Leia.” He copied your questionable tone as you sighed, your eyes closing momentarily before you nodded. “Nice.” He didn’t mind (accidentally) matching the birthday girl, but the other two took note of the way your face went pink.

People would think it was on purpose. Everyone around was aware of that and apparently you were the only one that cared. “I’m going to change, I still have my Dorothy costume-”

“No! Y/n/n we are already late for your own party. You look amazing, who cares if you match Aaron? It’s cute. Now let's go.” She didn’t even give you time to head back into your room before she gripped your wrist and pulled you out the door.

The boys were right behind you and you couldn’t deny that you were aware of Aaron’s eyes on you. Because of course they were. The costumes were making his confidence grow, aside from the same degree, he wasn’t sure you had anything in common really aside from the friends you both kept.

But now? You liked Star Wars, he loved Star Wars. You knew enough of the movies to pick the least popular outfit from the trilogy and it honestly made his heart race. Just the thought of bringing the conversation up. 

He never knew what to talk about around you. All he could muster was laws and some criminology he learned from the criminal justice class he took. By the time you made it to the bar together, he had about three different topics he wanted to go on and on about.

A small chorus of cheers, mainly from Louise’s friends rather than people you actually knew greeted you and the party was on. You allowed yourself two drinks. Two. That was it. Alcohol wise anyway.

“Hey,” Aaron’s voice should have caught you off guard but considering he was one of maybe four people you actually knew here, two of which were already off sucking face somewhere, it didn’t. And you could tell at some point he’d show up.

How could he not? “Hi.” You were used to being around him now, the coldness you usually put off to him had dwindled to just a slight breeze if anything at all. Especially since he’d become your official book reader.

A smile was already on his lips but it grew when he realized you were past the ‘hating his guts’ phase, “Nice costume,” He of course started, your eyes lifting to his. There was a layer of teasing to his words. Aaron was well aware that you didn’t like the implications that an accidental matching costume had. Especially not a stereotypical couples costume.

“Right.”

“Maybe we should have discussed what we were going to wear more, huh,” He chuckled, sipping the beer he’d already gotten. You couldn’t judge that choice, you already had a dirty shirley in front of you as well.

A small hint of a smile attempting to grace your face but you pushed it away as you nodded, “Yeah, maybe.” You muttered, picking a cherry from your drink and eating it. Absent-mindedly you put the stem in your mouth, twisting it with your tongue into a knot and putting it on the napkin in front of you.

Aaron gaped at you, his eyes glancing from your face down to the stem before he nodded, “Next time…” He trailed off before clearing his throat and forcing himself to walk away from you. That was unusual. He never was the first one to stop the conversation, he always bothered you until you told him to go away.

Your eyes traveled to the stem, eyes widening. Oh. That… that made sense. The whole bar trick thing. You hadn’t even thought about that when you did it but now your face was probably the color of said cherry and you wanted to hide in the corner.

Eventually though, the instance fell to the back of your mind as you let yourself have a good time. The two drink rule also fell off, now having had about four, only the first had actually been picked by you, the others from various guests that were there.

And being the people pleaser that you were, you drank them.

Louise had found her way back out to the dance floor, happy to be singing along to the songs on the speakers with you, everything was going perfect. The night was perfect. As it hit midnight, the actual day you were born, you decided to start sobering up, you didn’t want to be a mess the next morning, day off or not.

Your friend of course gave you a pout, her own self completely wasted, Jared less so, meaning he had a good eye on her as they moved throughout the place. Your only other friend was a girl from your art class, Kendall, that was as introverted as you were.

Granted her was from anxiety, yours was from needing to be good in school, which… could be labeled as anxiety as well but you refused to see it as that. “Hey, y/n! Happy birthday!” She immediately perked up at seeing you, in her Orange Blossom costume from strawberry shortcake.

“Hey! Thanks, Kendall, I love this costume. Did you hand stitch this?” Your eyes widening at the level of detail that was in the yellow and orange dress that hung on her body. Sheepishly she nodded, a tad bit embarrassed.

“I did..”

“It looks amazing, I’m truthfully jealous of your talent. I can barely fold my clothes correctly, nevermind customize them. This is insane.” You complimented thoroughly, once again taking a look at the stitched in white flowers.

Kendall grinned, “Thank you, I honestly made this a couple years ago for a party that never ended up happening so I’m very glad that you and Louise ended up making this a costume party.” She smiled, looking over your costume. “I hope I don’t sound silly but, what’s your costume meant to be?”

She’d never seen Star Wars so the question was expected. “Princess Leia, in one of the other movies.” Kendall made an ‘oh’ face as she nodded, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Wait, isn’t there someone here as Han Solo? Was that planned?” Kendall asked the cursed question, making you sigh heavily.

You shook your head, “No, that’s Lou’s boyfriend’s roommate, a pain in my ass but no, not planned. Just… small coincidence.” You slightly trailed off as you spoke. Kendall nodded, noting the way you shifted on your feet.

“Well, I’m probably going to head out. I have to be up early tomorrow. Have a good birthday y/n.” She smiled before leaving you standing there as a slow song came over the speakers. You of course moved out of everyone’s way as they split into couples, swaying to the song on the dancefloor.

Your heart practically dropped when you saw Aaron coming in your direction. Was he going to do what you thought he was going to do? God you hoped not… sort of. Part of you wanted him to, your thoughts about this man were everywhere and then some. 

All of you wanted to still dislike him but he’d weaseled in and now you had to fake your distaste to hide the fact you actually liked having him around. Liked that he was smiling as he came up to you and held his hand out.

You liked that he gently clasped his hand around yours when you took his and pulled you out with him. You liked all of it and you hated that you did. Hated that you were melting at the smell of his cologne and aftershave.

Absolutely hated that his hands just resting on your hips and your arms over his shoulders was making your head dizzy even though you were just barely swaying. The worst part? It didn’t feel awkward. Not for you at least.

No, it felt like you were supposed to be doing exactly what you were doing, no words needed. It was natural. Absentmindedly you slid your fingers through the hair just at the base of his neck, the hair framing his face a bit messy but still attractive. 

Did you just think he was attractive? God this was getting bad, even for you. To tear your eyes away from him you leaned your head against his shoulder, whether that made things better or worse was undetermined but you stayed like that the rest of the song, his thumb slightly rubbing circles into your hip as he stayed near you.

The song switched to a more upbeat one and you almost didn’t want to pull away. Almost. Instead you did, letting out a tight breath as you looked up at him. “That was nice.” You mumbled, still standing in front of him, trying to keep your eyes on his eyes, or hair, or anything that wasn’t his lips.

Something had festered in between the two of you in that moment and you felt suffocated. Like you should do something but you weren’t sure what. “It was.” He said in return, his tone the same as he tried to keep his eyes up too.

To solve both of your problems you turned heel and walked away, no goodbye just a rushed, near jog towards the door. You were panicking. Boys were not supposed to be on the table. This was one of the most important years of your life. You couldn’t waste it on a boy. Waste any time on something that wasn’t your work.

Aaron seemed to notice how tense you seemed, following behind you. If you had just disappeared into the crowd he would have left you. But running outside? Alone? He was protective, always had been. Even when you hated him.

So he jogged after you, “Y/n! Hey wait,” He caught up with you quickly. Curse his long legs and your short ones. “Please,” He gripped your elbow, stopping you in your place as you turned to him.

Correction, turned into him, your body hit his chest gently, his other hand lightly holding your side as he stabilized you, his eyes darting across yours. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice low, soft even as he spoke.

You felt like he could hear the sound of your heart picking up in your chest. You were. But you weren’t. You’d be better if you weren’t fighting every urge known to man to not lift up and kiss him. To not look at him with your y/e/c eyes until he kisses you.

And you sure as hell didn’t trust your voice right now. It could waver, stutter, multitudes of other things. So you just nodded, clearing your throat to let out a quiet, “Yeah.” In response that he didn’t believe. 

“People that are okay don’t run out of their own birthday parties.” He countered, your eyes falling shut in defeat. He wasn’t wrong. But you wished he was. You stepped back, his hands hesitantly sliding off of you, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. 

Aaron watched you, waiting for a sign that you were going to continue or that he should make some sort of first move. “I can’t do this.”

“What exactly is ‘this’?”

“This. I can see how you’re looking at me. I can feel how much I want to do what we’re both thinking but I can’t. Not now. I need- I need to focus on school. My parents are expecting me to graduate next year. I can’t… be distracted-”

Aaron had to comment, “So you are distracted by me.” He spoke, the glare you sent him making him shut up. “Why can’t you have both? Am I really that distracting to you?” This time his voice was more genuine.

As if he couldn’t fathom that you could really think about him more than you thought about your school work. Which you didn’t and wouldn’t but in the last three-ish months he was on your mind a tad bit more than you’d like to admit.

“Yes. Yes you are and god Aaron I hate it. I hate this, you, what I’m feeling. They… they weren’t supposed to happen. They can’t.” It was like you were trying to convince yourself more than him. Every part of you wanted to try, to see if you could do it.

The way he stepped forward, cupping your cheeks in both of his hands didn’t help. Neither did the way he lifted your face to meet his. “We can try.” He said softly, trying to get you on board as his thumb slid over the smooth skin of your cheek.

You slightly shook your head, his nodding in return as he leaned down, putting his forehead against yours. “If Han and Leia can have a thing amidst a war, we can in college.” He offered, a lopsided grin growing on his face.

“You know we’re not actually Han and Leia, right?” You said, an actual tone of a joke in your voice that Aaron was still getting used to hearing from you. He nodded, of course he knew. But he also knew that he wanted to kiss you anyway.

So he did. Slowly he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. Because at least if you shoved him off and decided you never wanted to see him again, at least he’d know what it felt like. What you felt like. Except that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

You immediately relaxed into his touch, your hands coming up to rest over his as your lips moved with one another's. It was like a ball of energy was forming between you that was stealing every bit of space left. 

His chest pressed against yours, his hands still on your face as your hands slid up his arms and over his shoulders. 

You stepped back with him, leaning against the brick wall of whatever building was behind you, arms locking over his shoulders. If you’d been at one or the other’s place, you were sure it would have gone further but since you were practically ten feet from a bar of all your friends, you pulled back, eyes darting across his face.

“We can’t.” You forced out, knowing it was tearing you apart to say that, knowing the way his shoulders and hands fell that you’d just tore him apart. And you hated it, but it had to be done. You couldn’t do this.

You wouldn’t.

—

Summer was supposed to be downtime. Your family loved going out to Newport and being out on the beach everyday. out on the beach everyday. Swimming. All that cool New England fun. 

You were never the type. You hated the ocean. Ironic considering the fact that Rhode Island is the ocean state but you just never had fun. 

Sand got into every small crevice of your body, the waves literally tried to drown you. Not to mention the way no matter how much sunscreen you put on, your cheeks and shoulders burnt. 

It wasn’t fun. 

But you went for your siblings. Because they liked it and you liked that they did. Your parents wouldn’t go into the water with them. Half the time they wouldn’t even acknowledge that the three of you existed. 

So you took that spot. Watching your younger sister (now 21) do her backflips while your brother (now 19) held his breath until he couldn’t. It was your own type of fun. 

Fun because you were with your family, not fun because you were at the beach. 

Your favorite part wasn’t being out. It was the aftermath. After you showered and ate and were just sitting in your living room with whatever movie was picked that day on the VCR. 

Your sister chose Casablanca and you didn’t put up any argument, knowing you’d be passed out and unconscious not even twenty minutes into the film.

Which is exactly what happened. You tucked yourself into the corner of the couch and were passed out before the clock even hit 10. There was always a sense of calm and comfort when it was the three of you.

Something that you rarely ever got when you were away. It made you kind of guilty that sometimes you thought of not coming back. Of staying down in DC and focusing on yourself rather than the lingering words and expectations of your parents.

But you couldn’t do that to them. Leave them with the lingering and watchful eyes of your mom and dad. It wouldn’t be fair. Not when you were walking in your parent’s dreams so they didn’t have to. So your sister could go off and be an author. So your brother could become a mechanic. So they didn’t have to bear the weight.

So you visited on holidays, on vacations, birthdays if you could. All of it, so your parents would have something, someone to be so overly proud of that they didn’t have to force their views anywhere else.

They had it all right there.

Even if the drive back down to the campus was 50% tears, it was worth it. Everything you did for them was worth it.

The three and a half months off of school had distracted you from everything of the last months on campus. From Aaron in general but also the way he’d kissed you. Nevermind the fact that the second you walked away from him you wanted to go back and kiss him again.

But no. This was your last year. You were focused. Or at least you planned to be. And it went well. Louise still lived in the apartment you two shared, even if she wasn’t in school anymore but she worked… a lot so she was never there. Which meant the place was yours to study and hermit in.

It made hitting the books way easier, and the fact that so far you hadn’t even caught a glimpse of Aaron Hotchner was another sign that maybe this year was going to be better. Way better. No seriously, the first four months of being back were perfect, you got near perfect scores and grades, no distractions, nothing.

Until you did see him. And everything came back. Seeing him walking across campus made you nearly drop the book in your hands. It didn’t help that your eyes followed his arm down to his hand that was clasped into that of another girl.

It shouldn’t bother you. There was nothing there. You made sure of that. That was your doing so you couldn’t be mad. Or jealous. Or anything. So you went the other way, as always avoiding any problems you might possibly end up having.

Unbeknownst to you, he saw you too, instantly feeling guilt build in his stomach at the feeling of the red head’s hand in his when he didn’t want it to be her. He wanted it to be you. But he respected you too much to push you.

Aaron was aware that he was your last priority and that he was going to have to get over it and step back. Nothing but respect for you. He also decided that he would try and stick to his own guns. 

Your words last year had stuck with him. He was passing sure but he wanted to do better. To be better so he did what you would do. Locked in, focused, but he of course wouldn’t go without talking to girls.

He couldn’t do that, to the girl he walked with that day, whose name had slipped his mind the second he saw you was his emotional distraction. Which should be good for the both of you. Hopefully.

—

It was late. Like, later than late and you couldn’t sleep. Whether it was stress. It being a Friday night meaning you were alone or what. You could not fall asleep. So you got up, pulled shoes and a sweater on before heading out.

There was practically nobody around, most students either in for the night, or downtown getting sloshed. Louise and Jared were the latter, probably with Aaron. You sighed, of course there would be a way for him to come up in your mind. And like he could read your thoughts, he practically appeared next to you.

In reality he came out of the library, his eyes immediately finding you and jogging to catch up with you. “Y/n? Why are you out so late? It’s a Friday, shouldn't you be sacrificing an animal to the law degree gods or something?”

Even with his ‘I’m going to be more serious’ mentality, he couldn’t help but relax when it came to you, the admittedly half assed joke making him grin. In turn a small one formed on your face, something you still weren’t used to.

How could he bring that look to your face when nobody else could? Louise tried but it took a lot. But with Aaron just him being him did it. “Couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged, continuing on. You knew telling him to go home was no use, if it was dark and you were alone, he’d find a way to stay with you.

“Right, so, going for a walk around campus was your idea of what? Getting tired?” He questioned, chuckling when you gently elbowed him.

“Don’t make fun of my ideas, I think they’re very swell.” You countered, him humming in response. The way you two bounced off of one another was so disgustingly natural you hated it. All you had to do was look at him to feel your cheeks burn, he was already watching you.

The slight and quick eye contact made your stomach flip as Aaron nudged you, “Not poking fun, just trying to understand.” He corrected. “If you’re going to walk around, at least be somewhere cool. C’mon.” 

He held his hand out and you wanted to ignore it. Wanted to laugh in his face at the thought of walking with him hand in hand but you took it instead. His hand enveloping yours in difference as you silently walked off campus and down one of the roads that led from it.

“Where are you taking me?” Your voice soft, no malice or accusatory tone to it.

“You’ll see.” Aaron replied, lightly squeezing your hand. And for a minute you forgot this isn’t what this was supposed to be. Forgot that you had sworn yourself off of him, of boys in general. That you weren’t meant to be holding his hand and walking the streets of DC.

But he just made it so easy, he was so welcoming. So casual. Like he had no ulterior motive to anything but he was savoring the moments you’d let him have. The fact that you let him walk next to you. You let him grab your hand. You let him feel what he felt even if he knew that you weren’t going to give in.

Aaron held out hope that you would. Eventually.

The park just down the road came up only fifteen minutes later. The longest fifteen minutes of your life, trying to keep your breathing even, both from the close proximity and the walking itself.

“You alright?” He asked quietly, the two of you entering the park and walking along one of the paths that lead to the water. 

You nodded, glancing over at him, “Yeah, I’m alright,” you replied in the same tone, lingering on him before you forced your eyes away. 

There honestly should have been something in you that reminded you that he was just with that other girl a few weeks ago, but his presence now was just so strong that it didn’t even cross your mind. 

All that mattered now was his hand in yours and how he was walking perfectly in step with you regardless of the height difference. The way he had a faint smile on his face without even looking at you. 

That was all you focused on. 

“Wanna sit here?” His voice cut into your thoughts, gesturing next to a tree right on the edge of the water. There was a perfect patch of flat ground where you two could sit so you nodded, following him right into the dirt. 

Both of you faced the river, backs hunched in terrible posture but neither of you really cared. “I’m sorry I ran off.” You spoke up after a few minutes, Aaron glancing over at you. “It was… childish. You didn’t deserve that.”

His hand was still in yours, his thumb beginning to stroke over the top of yours. “It’s okay. Hurt. But it’s okay.” Aaron replied, giving you the softest brown eyed gaze you’d ever seen. 

If you weren’t already head over heels for him, this would have made all of those feelings show up magically. “I still don’t know what I want.”

“That’s okay too.”

The quickness in his response, the sense of security it gave you, it made you sigh softly, “Is it?” You muttered, pulling your hand from his in fear he’d do it first. 

Aaron went to speak but you shook your head, “I don’t like feeling like this. I don’t like… you waiting around for me to finally be ‘ready’. What if I never am?” Slight panic layering into your voice. 

“Y/n, listen to me.” He leaned forward to catch your eyes, giving a small smile, “I’ll wait for you. Always. I want to.” And that should have been enough. 

That should have made you feel better but it didn’t. Though in an attempt to avoid the rest of the conversation, you laid back in the dirt, looking up into the leaves above you. 

He mimicked you, lying just to your left in silence. It also didn’t feel weird, forced even. Still it just felt natural. His hand going back to yours felt natural. All of it did. Because why wouldn’t it…

“Why’d you choose law?” Aaron asked after a bit of silence, turning his head to you. 

A light scoff at the way it was worded was what he got in response, “Choose is a bit of a stretch.” You murmured, rolling your tongue across your cheek. “That would equate to there being a second option.” You added. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he turned his head more, “You didn’t want to come here?”

“Well, I did. But not at the same time?” Your words confusing not only him but you yourself. “I knew it’s what my parents wanted. So it became what I wanted. You know?”

Aaron nodded slightly, “In a way. I mean I’m here because it’s a family thing. But I know it’s what’s right. I wanted it.”

“A family thing?”

“Yeah, my dad was a lawyer. And my grandfather. My little brother is probably going to be too… family thing.” He sighed, looking back up. 

You slightly lifted onto your elbow, “Is that why you weren’t as serious the last couple years?” You asked, Aaron shrugging in response. 

There wasn’t really a solid reason that he was so lighthearted. It was just how he was. “I guess. But, I’m past that.”

“Yeah I can tell,” you said sarcastically, gesturing to where you two were right now. Aaron laughed fully, nodding. 

“Okay, point taken. But I’m serious, I’m focusing on school more this year, my last year and I want to just… get it done.” He explained, watching as you lifted onto your elbow to look at him. 

His eyes traveled across your face, his lips pursing as you looked down at him, “don’t look at me like that.” He muttered, eyes on yours. 

“Like what?” Your eyebrows pulled together, there wasn’t anything specific about how you were looking at him. You just … were looking. 

Aaron slightly shook his head, “Like that,” he gestured at you, “like you understand and that you get it because, it’s making it really hard to respect the fact you don’t want to kiss me again.” He sighed out softly. 

You immediately bit back a smile, laying back down, “apologies.” You said softly, inching your hand closer to his, your pinky outstretched. 

His looped around yours in response and you allowed yourself to smile this time, shivering slightly. “Are you cold?” He immediately asked, already taking the hoodie he had on, off and putting it around you before you even replied. 

“I didn’t even answer you.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You looked over at him, shifting slightly closer to rest your head against his shoulder, “what if you get cold?” You muttered, hand officially slipping into his. 

“I’ll be just fine.” He replied, his head leaning against yours and you just about melted. Feeling the slight vibration of his voice as he spoke made your brain all foggy and you started to wonder if ignoring these feelings would be more distracting than just giving into them. 

But you tucked that back away for the night, the two of you ending up falling asleep right there, his hoodie the only source of warmth until he pulled you to him, your bodies making up for the lack of heat around you. 

That morning you were gone before he even woke up, the sun rising having stirred you from your sleep and shining directly on what was wrong with what you were doing out there. 

His hoodie was still over your shoulders as you practically ran back to your apartment. Truthfully you didn’t even notice until you caught sight of it in the mirror by the entrance and it made your heart pound. Now you had to see him again. 

Not that you didn’t want to. He was literally eating away at your brain. If you weren’t thinking about school, it was about him. 

If he wasn’t thinking about school, he was thinking about you. It was a very balanced experience. And you could live with it.

Until you failed a test because you were sitting two seats away from him and the smell of his cologne was wafting right to your nose. 

That was when you decided you had to do something about this. Anything. 

—

Which apparently meant actively avoiding him at every turn and step. He came out of a building, you took the long way around to go in. 

He was sitting in the back of class, suddenly you were okay with sitting in the front row. You stopped asking him to meet up at the library, not wanting to hear his voice any more than you already did. 

It worked tremendously. Eventually you could find yourself actually focusing on classes again. Your grade sailing. 

It was short lived though. 

“Y/n, someone’s here for youuu,” Louise sing-songed as she passed your bedroom door, trotting into her own to change for the night out she had ahead of her. 

You furrowed your brows, heading out to the living room and seeing Aaron standing there. You wanted to tell him to go away but something in his eyes made you stay. He didn’t look great. 

“Aaron?” You asked softly, looking over his face. As soon as you said his name his lip began to quiver, fighting off a frown. 

Immediately you stepped up to him, pulling him down into a tight hug, “hey… hey… it’s okay… I got you…” you said softly, arms over his shoulder as you kept him to you, his face burying into your neck. 

“I’m sorry for coming here I just- I didn’t know where else to go and Jared’s going out-“

“Aaron, breathe. It’s okay… what happened?” You pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hand, the other rubbing across his shoulder with your thumb. 

He sucked in a breath, shaking faintly as he did, “My dad..” he muttered, unable to even phrase the truth, your heart dropping. 

“Oh Aaron…” you whispered, pulling him into another tight hug as Louise came out of her room, her eyes widening slightly at the sight in front of her. 

She silently gave you a faint smile, not interrupting as she left, her own date taking precedence over all of this. 

Your fingers laced through his hair as he let a soft sob out, tears now freely streaming down his face. All you could do was stand there, being someone that could comfort him. 

“Why don’t you come sit down?” You offered, hesitantly pulling back in case he wasn’t ready to move. 

He nodded faintly, you just now able to take in the disheveled look of him. His pajamas were wrinkled and his shirt was inside out as if he had pulled it on in a hurry to get over to you. 

And maybe he had. You didn’t mind. “I’m gonna make you some tea, okay?” You offered quietly as he sat on the couch, your hand still on his arm as you spoke. 

“You don’t have to-“

“I know exactly what you’re going through. I’m making you a damn tea.” You said more firmly, no room for argument as you turned to the kitchen. 

The fact he came here over any of his friends made little sense to you but if it made him feel better the least you could do was help him. 

In five minutes you’d made two cups of tea and brought them out. “I made a green and a chamomile. I don’t know which you want so you can choose.” You offered as you sat next to him, both mugs placed on coasters. 

Aaron grabbed the chamomile, immediately sipping it. “Thank you.” His voice stuffy from the crying he’d done, a weight pulling at your chest. 

“Of course.” You gave him a reassuring smile, knowing there wasn’t really much else you could do for him. 

He was silent and you followed suit, letting him manage how he wanted this all to go. “Can I ask you something?”

You nod. 

“You said you know what I’m going through,” he started, seeing you nod, “but Jared said you go up to your parents house in Rhode Island for vacation?” 

You sipped the other tea, “Yeah, they’re uh, my adoptive parents. They adopted me when I was 15.” You clarified, Aaron nodding faintly in response. 

“Oh.” He paused, “Sorry if that was-“

“Don’t you dare apologize right now, really,” your voice gentle. “I get it.” He faintly shifted, putting the mug back down as he looked at you. 

“Sorry, I mean- okay..” he stuttered slightly, a chuckle coming from you. 

“You should stay.” You suddenly said, the thought coming to your mind and immediately being said, no filter between the instances. 

Aaron looked over quickly, “I couldn’t ask you to do that.” He sighed out, his eyes red around the brim, your heart aching at the sight.

“You didn’t ask. I offered. And I mean it. Stay. Plus I’m pretty sure Louise and Jared are going to go back to your place so really, you’re better off here anyway.” The small smile you gave him was all it took for him to agree, glancing around at the couch.

It wasn’t that outlandish of an offer, your parents had raised you to be caring and empathetic, meaning you instantly turned down the fact he thought you’d make him sleep out on the couch. “You can take my bed, I probably won’t sleep anyway. Studying and all that.” You shrugged as if the offer came as second nature.

Not that that was that far off of a statement.

“I’m not taking your bed.” Aaron muttered, you looking up at him. It felt like you were suffocating, the way your eyes met and all the feelings, emotions tight between you two.

“Fine. We’ll share then.” Knowing you weren’t kicking him out at all. Not when your instinct right now was to pull him into a tight hug and hold him there forever. Not when you wanted to card your fingers through his hair and whisper that things would be okay.

That it would hurt for a while but eventually you’d feel better. All the things you wanted to do to help the man next to you, took precedence over everything in that moment. And that was scary. But you ignored the fear and took his hand in yours.

Aaron smiled weakly, locking his fingers into yours as you stood, “Come on.” You spoke so softly, like some sort of angel singing down to him. He’d follow anything you said to him then. Anything at all. Which was a bit terrifying but you simply led him to your room, motioning to the bed.

“Get comfortable, I’m gonna put some pajamas on.” You gave him a light smile before grabbing said clothes and heading into the bathroom to change and coming out not even ten minutes later to Aaron still sitting at the end of your bed.

You slightly raised your eyebrows, looking at him, “I couldn’t lay down. Don’t make fun of me.” He said quietly, you taking the spot just to his right, one leg tucked up under you as you reached your hand out.

“Can you now?” You asked softly.

“Yes.” Aaron looked over you, in shock still that you were this open to him, that you had offered not only your apartment but your bed to him. 

You nodded faintly, shifting to the top of the bed, pushing the blanket down and officially inviting him to the comfort of your mattress. It smelled like you, the entire room did. Strawberries and vanilla, the scent you’ve favored since middle school lingered on every surface and Aaron loved it.

He laid next to you, keeping space, still not knowing exactly what was allowed and what wasn’t. Was this a sign you guys were in the clear? Was it just a formality? He had no idea, so for the first time he let you lead things.

As if you could tell that was what he was waiting for, you rolled to face him, thinking over your next actions. Without much extra thought, you grabbed his hand, pulling his arm up and around your shoulder to keep him closer, your other arm slinking over his waist.

“Is this okay?” You asked quietly, Aaron nodding almost instantly, “Cause if you want to lay differently…” You trailed off as he looked down at you, only shifting to lean his forehead against the top of your head.

“This, is perfect.” He let out a sigh, his mind racing. Everything from the news of his father’s death to the way you’d finally let him in. It was a double edged sword that this is what it took. That the loss was what got him here.

The next morning was completely different to the last time you’d woken next to him. Last time you took off before the sun even cleared the sky, this time, you shifted slightly to look up at the man next to you. 

The window in your room let a decent amount of sunlight in, the curtain covering it parting in just a way that a streak of sunlight hit right over his face. 

He was gorgeous. If that was even a word you’d like to use for him. Regardless it’s exactly what you thought of him. Aaron Hotchner was beautiful and you were tired of acting like he wasn’t. 

As if he could feel your stare, he stirred, stretching his legs as he blinked himself awake. There was still a layer of sleep in his eyes as he glanced down at you, no attempt to look away being made by you. 

“Morning…” you said softly, twisting a small bit of his shirt between your thumb and index finger. 

“Morning,” his voice even more attractive as he woke up, immediately making your face heat up at the thoughts that darted across your mind. 

You lifted onto your elbow, looking down at him, “How’d you sleep?” You asked softly, moving your hand off of him as you did. 

Aaron hummed, letting out a breath, “Better than I expected.” He said, grabbing your hand in his, wanting some form of physical connection between the two of you. 

“Good, that’s good.” You said quietly, eyes trailing down your arm to where your hands were connected. “We should probably get up?”

“I’m not ready to.” Aaron said so freely, the fact he didn’t even try to hide how he was feeling made you almost giddy. 

A smile came to your face, one you didn’t bother smothering. “That’s okay, right here is good too.” You replied, pulling your lip between your teeth sheepishly. 

Being near him made your brain go haywire and you hated it so damn much. 

But you were okay with getting used to it. 

“Aaron?” You asked softly, still leaning up, over him slightly. He practically read your mind, using the clasped hands to pull you down, lifting his chin to catch your lips on his.

You couldn’t even be surprised, the look on his face before gave his intentions away as you let him pull you close, his other hand cupping the side of your face. 

His finger slid into your hair, holding you closer than you ever had before. 

Maybe it wasn’t the right time to do this. But he would rather be kissing you than thinking about his home life, so he acted on it. 

Moving his lips with yours until you wanted to stop. Which you didn’t. So he shifted up, rolling the two of you over so he was hovering over you, pulling away slightly. 

You blinked a couple times, letting out a slightly shaky breath, “is this really a good time to do all of… this?” You asked, wanting to do nothing less than all of it. 

“The perfect time actually,” he murmured before kissing you again, deeper than before.

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You found yourself entering the church this particular evening, a regular Tuesday at that, hoping that the father would be in. You needed to see him, talk to him about these things that were starting to happen to you. Scared that your sudden shift of church had been a sin and that God was starting to punish you for your wrongdoings, or worst of all, that you were going to spend all eternity in hell with the worst of the worst people. Sinners.

“Father are you here? I need to speak with you.” You called out through the empty pews, searching for him. As you got closer and closer to the alter, you started hearing mumbled words, seeing him perched up, kneeling on the small bench in front of the altarpiece depicting the crucifixion of the messiah. His hands were intertwined with each other and rested against the small golden fence curving around the altar in a crescent shape. His forehead was resting against them, with his eyes closed, completely engulfed in his prayer.

You didn’t mean to startle him, but the jump he made when you softly put your hand on his shoulder, told you otherwise. Snapping himself back to the safety of the tall white lime walls surrounding you, he started up at you, a smirk slowly starting to form as he realized just who had pulled him from his service to God.

“Ahh, (Y/N) my child, is it just you? What can I do for you dear?” He asked, standing up from his kneeling position. Father Aaron towered over you as he stood to his full length, feeling small around him, you doubted whether or not you could actually tell him about your betrayal and how you felt like a sinner.

“It’s nothing, maybe I should just go.” You scratched at your arm nervously, diverting your gaze to the spot on the ground between your bodies. Father Aaron’s fingers lightly grazed your chin as he hooked his thumb and index finger around it. With a slow and gentle motion, he forced your gaze up to meet his. Your lips were slightly ajar as you took in the sight of your priest.

“It’s clearly something important since you couldn’t wait until Sunday. Now, what is troubling that mind of yours my little lamb.” He cooed at you, seeing the flash of relaxation charge through you at his words. With a sigh of defeat, you finally confessed.

“I’m a sinner father and God has started to punish me for it.” You whimpered into his touch, feeling the tears starting to well in your eyes.

“Now what’s making you say that. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. God is forgiving and a pure heart like yours sure doesn’t get on his bad side just like that, my child.” He reassured, his hands cupping your face as he swiped his thumbs under your eyes to catch any falling tears that dared escape your magnificent and enchanting eyes.

“He’s punishing me for shifting church and straying from the belief of my parents. It all started when I started coming here. I get this achy feeling in my body and everything I try to do to cure it doesn’t work.” You let out a hitched sob as you explained your predicament. Aaron quickly caught on to what you meant, feeling his cock starting to stiffen in his slacks, tightening the cloth around his groin, like the time you first spoke to each other.

“I think I can help you get on his good side again.” Aaron offered to help, a lustful smile creeping up on his lips as he took a step closer to you, closing the gap between you. Snaking his arm around the small of your back he pushed you flush against his groin, feeling the bulge through your now bunched-up skirt. “This is God telling me to help you redeem yourself, devote yourself to this church, by worshipping it in the name of the all-mighty father.” Aaron rolled his hips against yours, creating friction against your clit, you moaned out in pleasure unbestowed by God.

“You’re a slutty little lamb, huh? Whoring yourself out like this in the house of God.” The father whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. With his hand up your skirt, he pushed past the band of your panties, his fingers sliding through your folds, leaving you with a moan in your throat. “Who’s gotten you this wet, my child. Perhaps it is the devil himself.” He pulled his glistening fingers from you, flipping them over in the light from the large overhanging chandelier to better look at your arousal.

You let out a small whimper at the mention of the devil, not wanting to be a victim of his satanic rituals.

“Please help me father, I don’t want to belong to Lucifer ruler of hell. Show me the light.” You begged, the pleading look in your eyes almost made him bend you over and just rut into you right then and there.

“Don’t fret my child, I’ll guide you back on the road to the silver city.” He promised, pushing his slick covered fingers against the seal of your lips, letting them enter your mouth. “Taste the work of the devil.” He directed, watching as you swirled your tongue around his digits, cleaning his fingers from every last drop of arousal hoping that it would help you.

“I think God’s deepest wish is for you to help me with my little problem.” He growled at you, taking your smaller hand in his large one as he guided it down to palm at his crotch, he kept his hand on top of yours, helping you pleasure him through his slacks. “Keep it there my child, and don’t stop.” He guided, starting to work on the buttons of your shirt. With each button opened he revealed more and more of your cleavage, your bra-covered chest soon coming into view.

When he’d unbutton just below your bra, he stopped, his hands yanking down the bra as he exposed the peaks on your chest. The sudden feeling of cool air made your nipples harden in an instant. Aaron slowly started rolling your nipple between his fingers, while the other hand started pulling your skirt and panties from your body. He was generously drawing moans out of you while trying to keep his own contained at the pleasure you were giving him while groping his cock through his pants.

“Bet no man has ever touched you here.” He smirked, cupping your heat before he started circling your clit in a teasing manner.

“No father.” You moaned, falling into his touch at the foreign feeling of being stimulated.

“Such a dirty little lamb, letting me play with you like this.” He groaned in your ear before prodding two fingers at your entrance. Pushing them inside of you you whined at the unfamiliar sensation starting to build up within you, the whines quickly turned into pleasurable moans as your body did all the work at getting you riled up for the father. “Think you’re ready for me to help you now?” He quirked a brow at you, watching as you squirmed in his hands.

“Please father.” You begged, slowly starting to be reduced into incoherent whimpers and whines as you felt something in your stomach tighten and threatening to snap as he continued using his fingers on you. Aaron could feel you getting closer and closer, on the brink of cumming all over his fingers before he pulled his hands away from you. With a pout on your lips, he started pushing your body against the crescent railing before the altar, facing against the picture.

You could hear the sound of his fly being opened before the sound of clothing hitting the ground caught your ears. The father stepped up behind you, pressing himself against your backside as he leaned down to press feather-light kisses from your neck and down the curve on your spine until he stopped at the fleshy part of your ass, giving it a firm spank to catch your attention.

Feeling something large press against you, you instinctively tried wiggling back against it, not knowing what it was as the bend-over position only permitted you to look into the eyes of Jesus and the mourning disciples.

“Dirty girl.” He growled, aligning himself with your entrance. You felt the spongy head of his cock push against you, gathering up your arousal and mixing it with his precum before he slowly started pushing inside of you.

“Oh, God!” You exclaimed as he stretched you out. “It hurts father.” You whimpered with tears rolling down your face at the new pleasurable feeling within your walls.

“I know my little lamb, promise I’ll take good care of you.” He slid out again, starting up a slow and tender pace. With small moans of pleasure, you started relaxing around his length, permitting him to slip further inside your tight heat. With a strangled moan, Aaron bottomed out in you, stopping his movements until you adjusted to his size.

“Look at you, you slut. Taking my cock like a little whore in front of your savior.” He grunted as he felt your walls clamp down around him in an attempt to satisfy him. The father’s hand grabbed a fistful of your hair yanking your head back as he pushed himself against your cervix. It made you arch your back and push your breast towards the altar, presenting them to the celestial.

Aaron quickly started snapping his hips in and out of you, setting a brutally fast pace as he practically robbed you of your virginity. He was unable to apprehend his own desires at having you as he had felt the sweetness hidden behind your layers of cotton keeping you shielded from the hungry gaze of man.

To the best of your abilities, you tried keeping your balance, placing your hands on the railing as your body threaten to give out under you, your legs already starting to feel wobbly.

“You gonna cum like the whore you are!?” Aaron blurted out as he felt you getting closer and closer to sinning all over his cock. The coil was strung tight by now, unbearably close to ripping apart, your sight blurring at the delicious pleasure the father was exposing you to.

“God, please.” You begged with tears streaming down your cheeks, unsure of what was about to happen as your brain was fogging over. “I’m gonna-” You whimpered, unable to finish your thought at the feeling of the father’s hand falling in between your legs.

With harsh circles drawn over your clit you were right on the brink and Aaron knew. You were standing on your tippy-toes at the sensation, pulsating around him, unable to feel anything but him, how his cock twitch at your every move, how the head brushed against your g-spot, how he rearranged your guts in an attempt to push through the barrier that was your cervix. He had gone feral.

“You better use your manners, lamb.” He growled at you, continuing the torture on your clit as you were moaning out pleas for your release.

“Father, may I cum please!?” You screamed out, remembering what he had called the thing earlier. The never-ending stream of tears continued flowing down your cheeks at the overwhelming pleasure.

“Cum for me, my child.” Aaron howled, his cock plunging harshly inside of you as he bottomed out with every single thrust. Feeling the band snapping you let out a scream of pleasure, ringing through the whole church and echoing against the back wall. Aaron fucked you through it until he too came, coating your insides with thick long ropes of cum.

Stilling inside of you, you both managed to catch your breaths, the only sound resonating in the empty room was the heaving of your chests merging together as one.

           You didn’t notice him at first, but you felt something - a shift in the air, a tingle on your skin that made you look up. Your eyes met his, dark and intense in the shadows of the bar, and your heart skipped a beat. The music surged, and so did the heat between you, his gaze burning through the distance. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with an undeniable presence. Even from across the room, you felt the magnetic pull.

           He didn’t wait long. Pushing through the crowd, his focus solely on you. When he reached you, he slid up behind you, close enough that you could feel his heat but not yet touching. His breath brushed against the back of your neck as his hand grazed your hip, pulling you into the rhythm with him. A shiver ran down your spine as your bodies pressed together, the connection immediate, electric.

           You leaned into him, your body moving with his, the music becoming a backdrop to the building tension between you. The feel of him against your back, his hands firm yet gentle on your hips, had your heart racing. His touch was careful, hungry, but respectful, his fingertips brushing over your skin like a silent promise. As the night deepened, the space between you shrank. Your back arched, and you found yourself grinding against him, feeling the solid weight of his chest against your shoulder blades. His breath hitched, and you felt the evidence of his desire pressing into you.

           His grip tightened slightly as your movements grew bolder. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice rough. “You’re driving me crazy.” The rising heat between you was becoming unbearable, and with a gentle tug, he turned you to face him, his eyes locking onto yours. There was a smoldering appetite there, one that mirrored your own. He didn’t say anything else, just leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was both desperate and slow, savoring the taste of you.

           You melted into the kiss, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as he deepened it, tongue sliding against yours in a heated dance. His hands were everywhere, mapping the curves of your body as the music continued to thrum through the floor. The world outside the two of you blurred, and when he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes were filled with something wild. “Let's go somewhere a little more private,” he breathed. Without hesitation, you nodded.

           The night air outside was cool, a stark contrast to the heat still simmering between you. Hotch’s grip on your wrist was firm, leading you around the corner to the dark alley beside the club. There, in the shadows, he turned to face you again, pressing your back gently against the cool brick wall. His hand slid down to your waist, tugging you closer, and you gasped softly as his lips found your neck, burning with urgency.

           Your hands flew to his chest, but he was faster. He pinned your wrists above your head, holding them together with one hand, the other bracing against the wall beside you. The position left you feeling vulnerable, yet you couldn’t deny the thrill of it, the way he made you feel utterly consumed by his presence. His lips were on your neck now, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin just below your ear, drawing a soft moan from your lips. Every touch was deliberate, each kiss sending a shockwave of heat straight through you.

           He growled low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver through your entire body. His lips trailed down your neck, pausing to suck gently at your pulse point, feeling the way your heartbeat quickened beneath his tongue. You pressed closer, desperate for more contact, more of him.

His hand found the hem of your dress, sliding it up your thigh, his touch sending shivers of anticipation through you. His fingers teased the edge of your undergarments, massaging your heat, as he watched you squirm, wanting more. With a low growl, he pulled your panties aside, his fingers delving into your wetness, his thumb rubbing your clit with expert precision. You gasped, your head falling back against the wall as he guided you toward release.

           “Please...” you whispered, your voice hoarse with need, you were dangerously close, the knot in your stomach tightening with each thrust of his digits. Hotch pulled back as he felt how close you were, your walls fluttering around him with warning. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust.

           “Not yet.”

           Before you knew it, you were in his apartment. Aaron kicked the door shut behind him, your lips never leaving each other. His lips were soft but demanding, moving against yours with a rhythm that left you breathless. His tongue parted your lips, teasingly brushing against yours, drawing out a soft moan from you. His taste was intoxicating, a mix of heat and raw desire that made your knees weak underneath you.

           His hands gripped your waist as he guided you toward the bedroom. Your clothes were scattered along the way, a trail of evidence leading to his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed, his lips never leaving yours. You bucked your hips against him, desperate for his attention.

           “Not yet, sweetheart. I want to taste you first,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

           He positioned himself between your thighs, his breath warm against your exposed flesh. His tongue parted your folds, and he began his feast, lapping and sucking, teasing your clit as he drew out your sensitivity. You moaned, trying to control yourself as your hips moved rhythmically against his tongue. Hotch placed his hand on your waist, holding you down as he brought you closer to climax.

           He couldn’t take it anymore. His lips left your heat as he positioned himself above you. With one smooth thrust, he filled you, claiming you in the most primal way he knew of. The sensation was incredible. You could feel every inch of him, every vein and ridge, as he moved inside you. His thrusts were slow and deliberate, building the pleasure until you were both panting, sweat-soaked, and desperate. You wrapped your legs around his waist, needing him closer, wanting more.

           “Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunted, his eyes locked on yours. “Cum for me, honey,” he ordered as he started thrusting into you harder. His words were all it took. You tightened your legs around him, your inner muscles clenching around him, you cried out as your orgasm washed over you in waves. Aaron followed, his own release filling you, with lengthy ropes of his seed, his breath hot against your neck as he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder.

           When it was over, he didn’t move away like you’d half-expected. Instead, he drew you closer, his arm sliding beneath you to wrap around your waist as his other hand gently caressed your back. The sensation of his fingertips tracing slow, soothing patterns against your skin was hypnotic, a soft contrast to the passion that had consumed you moments before. The warmth of his body pressed against yours was grounding as if he wanted to make sure you felt secure in his embrace.

           Your breathing gradually slowed, the intensity of the night giving way to deep, peaceful exhaustion. You nestled your head against his chest, your cheek softly placed over his heart, listening to the steady, rhythmic beat. The sound was comforting. You closed your eyes, feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the steady breath he exhaled brushing through your hair.

           Hotch’s hand never stopped moving, his touch light and reverent as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to stop feeling your skin beneath his fingers. His thumb traced slow circles along your lower back, dipping low enough to make you shiver, even in your sleepy haze.

           Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the warmth of his body and the gentle rhythm of his breath. The last thing you felt was the way his arm tightened around you, as though, even in his sleep, he refused to let you go.

"What's wrong baby?" Hotch looked up at the sound of your bare feet pattering down the hallway and inside his office. The look of hopelessness and frustration hinting in your features. Your lip was jutted out and eyes teary, almost letting your body win the fight at the mere sight of your boyfriend.

"Not feeling so good, Daddy." You whimpered, eyes lowered to the ground, feeling guilty that you had interrupted him from his important government work, you knew how much he hated interruptions, yet here you were breaking his concentration.

"Why's that? Did you do something bad?" Hotch inquired, his tone stayed soft as he tried to get to the bottom of your upset. He let his pen fall down on top of the report, signaling that he was all ears and only focused on you. Hoping that you would tell him the truth if you truly did need a punishment. If you'd broken one of his rules. He folded his hands on top of the desk, waiting for you to answer him. Had you been in a better mood, he would've grabbed your chin by now, making you answer his question and show him the respect that he deserved as your dom. But not now. It was not the time and place for that, not until you were back to his cheery and bubbly girl again.

"No punishment, been good. Just sad." You mumbled, your gaze falling further down, as you in your submissive state, fiddled with your hands, tracing the curve of your nail with your other nail hooked under it.

"Oh baby, what ya sad about. C'mere, tell daddy what's bothering you." Aaron cooed, inviting you into his lap with open arms. You snapped your eyes up at him for a moment, giving him enough time to see just how sad you really were. A few tears had escaped and rolled down the apples of your cheeks as you remained closed off from him. Reluctantly, you waddled over to him, with slow, small steps. When you were close enough, Aaron helped you position yourself in his lap, straddling him as your legs were placed on either side of his in a kneeling position. He let his calloused fingers wipe the drops away, drying your eyes before he held your head between his large palms.

Without putting any pressure on his grasp, he forced you to look at him, tilting his head as he waited for you. You let out a breathy sob trying to figure out why you reacted like this, why all of a sudden you'd gotten so sad.

"Am I too needy?" You squeaked, trying not to weep more than you already were. Hotch's expression softened as you spoke, feeling gutted that you thought so little of yourself, knowing that he had taken home a little more work than usual this weekend, trying to get on top of things. He blamed himself. He shouldn't have spent so much time working. He should've taken care of you, his best girl, his good girl.

"Baby, never have you ever been too needy. Don't you ever think about yourself like that! Daddy has been busy with work, and he's sorry. I know your little brain can't differentiate, but Daddy's not mad at you. He just forgot because he had so much paperwork." Hotch cooed softly, reassuring you that there was not a single thing in the world that would ever make you too needy, in fact, he loved how needy you were, how he could have you begging below him on your knees with just a single touch. He was in control in your relationship, and you both knew that you'd both agreed that that was how you liked it.

"I love you, Daddy." You smiled, wiggling your head out of his hands to wrap yourself around his body in a tight hug. You laid your head on his shoulder, nestling it in the crook of his neck, pressing a single kiss to his spot right under his ear. Aaron had seen the pained smile and knew you weren't fully on top of it all again, but it was a start.

It’s the first beautiful spring afternoon of the year. Considering you and your boyfriend Aaron have both been cooped up in the GWU library all winter long, the choice to study outside in the fresh air today was a unanimous no-brainer.

After a full morning of classes, the two of you waste no time racing over to the courtyard at noon, in serious need of some sunshine. Hand in hand, you navigate the throngs of students and teachers, pushing your way through the sea of people toward an old oak tree at the far end of the outdoor common area. You and Aaron settle underneath the sturdy branches happily, study materials in hand.

His back is up against the tree, and you’re nestled between his long legs, resting comfortably against his warm, firm chest. In your hands are a pile of colour-coded flashcards that you’re memorizing for your Shakespeare 101 test that’s later this afternoon. Well… trying to memorize, that is. Aaron is making it kind of impossible to concentrate.

Although he’s supposed to be looking over notes for his Political Science class, he is decidedly… not. It takes all of five minutes for him to put his notebook down with an exaggerated huff.

You flick your eyes up at him. Aaron’s head is tipped back against the tree trunk, his eyes screwed shut, dark eyebrows furrowed. Something has him riled up and restless; he’s angstier than usual… more impatient than usual. You can’t quite put your finger on why.

You let out a soft sigh of concern, making a mental note to talk to your boyfriend about it later tonight, and turn back to your flashcards.

About 10 minutes later, just as you’re starting to leaf through the literary symbolism of Hamlet, one of Aaron’s large hands begins to tease the hem of your yellow sundress.

You blush lightly and swat his touch away, playfully, cheeks flushing wildly at your boyfriend’s overtly public display of affection. You say nothing, and neither does he. He doesn’t exactly stop… and it’s not like you exactly stop him.

You re-read the same flashcard over again as Aaron’s hand continues to toy at your dress. His other hand comes up to rest on your hipbone.

You fidget a little on the grass under his touch, adjusting your hips to move backwards, feeling something hard pressing into your... OH. So that’s what has him so worked up.

He sucks in a breath, fingers digging into your hip a little harder, the hand on your dress inching further up your thigh -

“Aaron!” you whine, breathy and bewildered. “There are so many people out here you seriously need to control yourself.”

You let your head tip back to rest on his solid chest. Looking up at him you can see the glimmer of arrogance in his darkened, hazel eyes. There’s something else there too… something more… lustful.

Predictably, he says nothing: but lucky for you, his eyes say everything.

“You made me stop studying,” you fake a frown, placing your flashcards onto your lap.

He gives your hip another squeeze.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs, smirking, brushing a few strands of hair off your neck before attaching his lips to your collarbone.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out. You bring a hand up and card it through his thick, black hair. You can feel him smiling against your skin, pressing light kisses up your neck, all the way up to your ear.

“You just look so good today, Y/N, I can’t help myself,” he whispers, deep and rough yet full of youthful horniness. He takes the soft skin of your earlobe in his teeth and pulls on it gently, making your eyes flutter shut and your hand pull hard at the hair on back of his head.

Aaron groans into your ear at the feeling. You shudder at the sound. He loops his arms around you and lets his head drop onto your shoulder. You stretch up slightly to the side and softly peck his cheek, moving one of your hands to cover both of his where they rest over your midsection, the other still playing with his gorgeous, raven hair.

“Babe, what in the world is going on with you today?” you ask, knowing full well what the answer is.

He lifts his head from your shoulder and glances at you, warm, golden-brown eyes shining. The expression on his face makes your heart do backflips.

You take the flashcards from your lap and toss them into your bag, twisting around in his arms so that you’re on your knees, facing him.

“Aaron,” you say again, this time more deliberate and confident, “what is it that has you so side-tracked?” Your fingers reach out to play with the silver chain he wears around his neck. You loop it around one of your fingers and pull him closer to you. You hear his breath hitch in his throat.

“You,” he shrugs.

Aaron lunges forward and catches you in a hungry kiss. It’s wet and needy, full of tongue and teeth.

“You’re insufferable,” you jest, lips pulling apart, fingers still toying with his chain.

“Yeah, I know,” he tilts his head cockily, grinning against your mouth as he captures your lips again.

“Dorm?” you ask him softly when the kiss breaks, dropping his chain back to rest on his black shirt.

He nods, letting his thumb brush over your cheek. He steals another kiss and then stands, suddenly, pulling you up with him. Before you can even register what’s happening, Aaron has both of your bags on his shoulders, and he’s scooping you up in his arms. With haste, he starts striding across the grass towards the dorms.

You throw your arms around his neck and grin up at him wildly as he apologetically barrels through the crowd. What a sight it is; you: cheeks flushed and laughing, yellow sundress billowing, and him: sexy as hell in dark blue jeans and a simple black t-shirt, practically sprinting with you in his arms across the campus.

You giggle as he elbows open the front door of his dorm building, and bury your face in his neck. You breathe in the faint smell of his guilty-pleasure cigarettes and clean, musky cologne. When you reach the elevator, he finally lets you down, but his touches never cease.

Aaron pushes you up against the wall of it and kisses you until you’re moaning into his mouth, legs practically jelly.

He continues this until the door opens on his floor, and you’re whisked away, again. He’s pulling you behind him at record speed down the hallway, your hand in his, until you reach his room.

The moment the door closes behind you, Aaron throws down the backpacks and is all over you again.

“Oh my god Aar,” you gasp, as he spins you around and traps you between him and the door. He pushes one of his denim-clad legs in-between yours and flexes up lightly, brushing over your core.

“So,” kiss, “fucking,” kiss, “hot,” kiss, “in,” kiss, “that,” kiss, “dress,” he breathes into your mouth in between bruising kisses.

“Do you have any idea what you looked like? Sitting between my legs in my favourite sundress of yours?” Aaron tilts your chin up with his fingers, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. He is completely undone. A self-confident smile plays on his red, puffy lips. His dimples make your heart ache. His thick eyebrows are quirked up, and his eyes are nearly black, blown out with pure lust.

You answer his question with a whimper, bringing your hands up to his chest to tug at his black tee.

Aaron steps back a little bit, letting you pull his shirt up and over his head. You toss it to the side, bringing your hands back up to run over his broad, lightly toned chest.

“I couldn’t concentrate,” he admits smugly, letting his hands roam over your body.

“Yeah, and why’s that my fault?” You pant, teasingly, egging him on. You like to get a little bratty with him during foreplay, knowing that it always comes back to bite you in the ass later on in the best way possible.

He growls at you, licks his lips and dives back in, kissing you with unparalleled passion, rocking his leg up into your underwear-covered pussy.

“You were right there in my hands, but I couldn’t touch you,” he utters.

“You can touch me now,” you say, “and I can touch you.” You move your fingers down to the waistband of his jeans, eager to feel him. Aaron’s hands stop you.

“Not yet, babe,” he breathes out, shaky, touching his forehead against yours. “Need to taste you first.”

Your mind goes blank at his audacity.

“Aaron, fuck, please,” you whimper, eyes wide. You grind down on his leg, eliciting a grunt from your boyfriend.

You move to grind down on his leg again, but he removes it, leaving you to shudder at the loss of contact. He scoops you up again and carries you into his bedroom.

Aaron throws you down onto the bed, his black and white plaid sheets still rumpled from last night’s restless sleep.

He stands at the foot of the bed, staring down at you, his silver chain resting on the tufts of dark hair on his bare chest. His cock is straining at the fabric of his jeans, and his chest is heaving. He is lean and muscular, and oh so perfect.

“Baby, you’re so hot, please touch me, I need you to touch me,” you plead, pressing your legs together for friction.

“Fucking beautiful,” Aaron whispers as he kneels, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you toward him.

You yelp as he drags you down the bed to him, the skirt of your sundress now around your waist. You look down at your gorgeous boyfriend as he nips and kisses your thighs.

“Aaron,” his name falls from your mouth like a prayer as you reach one hand down to tug at his hair. He tightens his grip around your legs, inching closer and closer to where you need him the most.

He presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the underwear covering your clit, making your back arch off the bed, chasing more.

“Aaron please,” you grip his hair with one hand and the sheets with another.

This time he sucks lightly on it through the fabric, and you cry out.

You squirm and moan under his touch as he licks your slit through your panties.

“Oh my god Aaron if you don’t to- OH!” Your frustration is drowned out by the sound of your moans as Aaron pushes your underwear to the side, eating you out like his life depends on it.

He laps at you with vigour, alternating between flat strokes and gentle sucking. Your hand in his dark hair is unfaltering as he hums between your folds, sending shockwaves throughout your whole body. You reach down with your other hand to hold onto Aaron’s, which he unhooks from your thigh and entwines with yours effortlessly.

You are a moaning, whimpering mess underneath his lips. He adds a finger, curling it just right inside of you. You can’t help but thrash, riding his face, begging to cum.

Aaron moans into your folds as he adds a second finger, scissoring them inside you.

“Aaron, baby,” you moan, “I’m so close.”

He peeks up at you under thick eyelashes from his spot between your legs. You lock eyes and he winks. The smug bastard winks.

That wink is all it takes for the dam to break, and your orgasm to overtake you.

Aaron continues to suck, kiss, and lick you through your high, letting you guide his head and ride his tongue until your body is still. He finishes you off with a gentle kiss just above your pubic bone.

“Come here handsome,” you breathe out, finally releasing the hand from his hair, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm.

Aaron wastes no time climbing up the bed as you push yourself into a seated position, taking off your sundress and throwing it across the room. His pink lips are wet with your arousal, and it makes your toes curl. You reach out and pull him to you, sealing your mouths in a searing kiss. Aaron groans into your mouth as you palm him over his blue jeans. He swiftly undoes your bra and lets it join the growing pile of clothes on his bedroom floor.

“Open,” he commands, rising onto his knees, running a finger over your parted lips.

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue as Aaron tugs on the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your head back. He spits into your mouth, and you swallow it, never breaking eye contact.

It’s hot and dominating. You can’t get enough.

“Need you,” you whisper, your hand finding the button of his jeans.

“Y/N,” he grunts, one hand reaching to grab your bare breast as you unzip his pants.

He shimmies out of them, and his blue boxers too.

Finally, finally, Aaron is naked in front of you. His thick cock is red, hard, and pulsing, erect on his lower stomach.

You gaze into Aaron’s eyes as you spit into your hand and wrap it around his dick. You pump your hand teasingly, and his eyes slam shut, a string of expletives leave his mouth.

“Fuck, babe,” he groans as you swipe your thumb over the tip.

You move your hand a few more times, each more purposeful than the last. You’re just beginning to find a rhythm when your boyfriend pushes you down lightly onto the bed.

“Aaron?” You gasp, questioning.

“Need to be inside you,” he rasps as he hovers over you, pressing kisses to your neck as he lines himself up.

Aaron rubs himself over your pussy a few times, coating his dick with your arousal, driving both of you insane. You both look down as he finally pushes himself inside of you, the image of his thick cock splitting you open almost too much to bear. Your eyes snap closed in bliss at the sight of it.

“Oh Aaron, oh my god,” you breathe out as he bottoms out.

“Look at me, Y/N” he orders, unmoving.

You open your eyes to find his, dark and shameless, right over yours. His hair is soft and messy on his forehead. The silver chain around his neck touches your lips lightly as it dangles from his neck. He is the most beautiful sight in the whole world.

“Fuck me, Aaron.” You sigh, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in even deeper.

With a low, sinful, groan, he does.

The pace is perfectly rough; with every thrust of his hips into you, you grind yours halfway to meet him. You let your hands wander over the expanse of his back and shoulders, and then up into his hair. The sound of your hips snapping against each other is delicious. With every stroke, you whimper into his lips, his neck, his chest; any piece of skin you can find. It’s all free real estate.

“You feel so good, babe, I’m so close,” Aaron whispers into your mouth. You squeeze around him in response, letting him know it’s okay to take what he needs. The movement elicits a deep moan from your boyfriend.

With that, he picks up the pace, lifting your legs up and over his shoulders, and you dissolve into a pile of whimpers. This new angle allows him to go even deeper, even harder.

His silver chain passes over your lips again and again, as his thrusts become more frantic. You take the necklace between your lips and bite down, muffling the sound of your mewls. The metal is cold and hard in your mouth, and the sensation makes you moan.

Aaron’s eyes scan yours and then your lips, finding his chain in your mouth. His eyes all but roll back into his head.

“Holy shit Y/N,” he pants. You watch as he starts to devolve, clinging to him as he throws his head back and goes over the edge.

He spills into you loudly, pressing against your body, filling you up with hot cum.

You release the chain from your teeth and pull Aaron down onto you, needing to feel the weight of him.

“Aaron, oh my god, baby, yes, oh my god,” you whisper into his ear as his thrusting slows and his hips stop, his cock deep inside you.

You pulse around him, holding him close, rubbing your hands up and down his back. He is collapsed on top of you, and both of you are breathing heavily. Your chests are pressed together, sweat is sticking to your skin.

Aaron lifts his head from your shoulder to look up at you through hooded eyes and thick lashes. He gives you a dopey grin and his signature wink, before letting his head fall back down.

You laugh into his hair, pressing a soft kiss there.

You two stay like that for a minute or so, revelling in the closeness, before you decide to speak.

“Aar?” You say, nudging his head with your nose.

“Mhhhmmm,” he mumbles, still nuzzled into your neck, his breathing still slowing.

“I still have to study for my exam.”

Aaron groans into your shoulder, and then picks his head up again so you two are eye to eye.

“Don’t worry about it, babe. I’ll just pull the fire alarm,” he grins, all dimples.

You roll your eyes at his ridiculously adorable proposition, pulling at the chain on his neck to bring him in for another kiss.

“You’re so stupid,” you mumble against his lips.

“Only for you,” he replies, nipping at your bottom lip.

Well, it’s only one test. If I fail, I fail… you tell yourself as Aaron slides his tongue into your mouth again, and you feel his cock hardening inside you, ready for round two.

For this? It’s worth it.

taglist:

“They’re not dealing with criminal justice,” Spencer pointed out. “They specialize in corporate litigation and high-profile estate law. The firm is known for taking on cases that require absolute discretion.” Emily tried her best not to roll her eyes at Spencer's outburst of knowledge but failed.

Hotch didn’t respond, he kept his pace steady as he approached the front desk. His usual stone-faced demeanor was on full display, his features—although set not completely in a frown—were unreadable. He seemed unbothered by the hushed stares they received from the staff as they had entered with their badges held out in front of them.

The receptionist, a young woman with a straight posture and a sharp smile, greeted them. “Good afternoon. How may I assist you?”

Hotch stepped forward, his voice even. “We’re with the FBI. We’re looking for the attorney who handled the probate case for Samuel Larkin.”

The receptionist’s fingers danced quickly over her keyboard, her expression unchanged. “That would be Attorney Hotchner.”

Dead silence.

Emily blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say Hotchner?”

“Yes,” the receptionist replied, unfazed, almost on the brink of annoyance. “Would you like me to see if she’s available?”

“She,” Morgan echoed, his brows furrowing a little as his gaze flipped from the receptionist to Hotch.

Before anyone could recover from their shock, the sound of sharp heal clicks echoed through the lobby.

“Aaron,” came a clear voice from behind. “If this is your idea of surprising me, I’ll admit it’s more creative than flowers. But I have a deposition in thirty minutes.”

The team turned as one, their collective gazes landing on the woman who had just entered the room. You were dressed in a tailored navy suit that emphasized your poised demeanor. Your expression was both curious and faintly amused as your eyes locked on Hotch.

“Counselor,” he greeted smoothly, his tone carrying a subtle warmth that the team rarely heard.

“Counselor?” Rossi asked, a slow grin forming as his gaze flicked between you and Hotch.

Your lips quirked up in a small smile as you approached, your heels clicking against the marble with each step. “I assume this is your team?”

“It is,” Hotch confirmed.

You turned your attention to the group, giving them a brief once-over with an expression that wasn’t unkind but clearly measured. “Well, where are my manners? I’m Y/N Hotchner, senior litigation partner here at Langston & Bell. And yes, I can see the wheels turning in all your heads.”

Morgan crossed his arms, already grinning. “Oh, I’ve got a lot of questions right now.”

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Feel free to ask them, Agent Morgan. I’ve been cross-examined by some of the sharpest minds in the country—I’m sure I can handle you.”

JJ stepped forward, clearly trying to keep her surprise in check. “Wait, you’re married?”

You tilted your head toward Hotch, your expression softening just a fraction. “You didn’t tell them?”

“It never came up,” Hotch replied with a shrug, though the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes didn’t escape you.

You shook your head, exhaling a soft laugh. “Aaron’s great at compartmentalizing, isn’t he? Well, to officially answer your question—yes, I’m his wife. And judging by your expressions, this is news to you.”

“Big news,” Emily muttered, still processing.

Hotch cleared his throat, subtly redirecting the conversation. “We need access to the probate records for Samuel Larkin. Anything that might help us build our case.”

Your demeanor shifted instantly, professionalism overtaking the playful edge. “Aaron, you know I can’t just hand over client information without a court order.”

“We’re only asking for publicly available records,” he clarified.

You studied him for a moment, a silent exchange passing between you. Then you turned to your assistant, who stood nearby. “Jane, pull the Larkin docket and bring me all publicly filed documents. Annotate them if you have time, and leave them on my desk before your shift ends.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jane replied, already moving toward the elevator.

“You always find a way around the rules,” Hotch said, his voice was low but carrying a note of fondness.

“And you love that about me,” you shot back with a wink, your eyes glinting with mischief.

Morgan leaned closer to Emily, his voice just loud enough for her to hear. “I don’t know what’s more surprising—the fact that he’s married, the fact that she's a lawyer, or the fact that she might be scarier than him.”

Although Jane hadn't gone through the records yet, she sent you a digital copy as soon as she had found them. You walked the team through them with ease. Every legal term you used was calculated, giving away as little about your client as you could, while still helping your husband and his team. You made sure to translate every dense legal jargon into actionable insights every time you saw one of their faces pull an expression.

“Here,” you said, pointing to a transaction on the financial statement. “These wire transfers are from an offshore account linked to Larkin. It’s not evidence of criminal activity, but it raises enough red flags to warrant further investigation.” If Larkin found out you had helped the feds, you could be in big trouble, you thought as you revealed the account.

Spencer leaned in, his eyes lighting up with understanding. “If we trace the accounts, we might uncover a connection to our unsub.”

“Precisely,” you replied, offering him a small nod of approval.

By the time the team wrapped up, they had everything they needed to move forward. As they gathered their materials, you leaned against the edge of the table, folding your arms as you looked at Hotch.

“Dinner at seven?” you asked, your voice softer, the edge of professionalism giving way to something more personal.

“Seven,” he confirmed, his tone lighter than usual.

You smiled, leaning in just enough to lower your voice. “Try not to scare anyone off before then, okay?”

“No promises,” he replied, his lips twitching upward in the faintest of smiles.

As the team exited the building, Morgan shook his head in disbelief. “She is definitely scarier than Hotch”

Emily grinned. “I think I like her better.”

“I like her too,” Rossi added with a chuckle.

Hotch walked ahead, the faint smile still playing on his lips, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The team had seen enough to know he’d married his perfect match—an equal who could still challenge him enough to keep him on his toes.

You drop your hands into your lap like a guilty child.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, making a turn onto the main road. 

“You think I’m biting my nails because I’m hungry?”

“No. I know you only bite your nails when you’re overthinking. And I know you’re more inclined to talk when you’re not running on an empty stomach.”

You glance out the passenger window, taking notice of the rain that has thickened since you bolted to the car. The prison is already a smear in the rear-view mirror, tucked so far into nowhere it feels less like an institution and more like a secret earth is ashamed of. You imagine its architects deciding it should be placed where even guilt would have trouble finding it. 

“There’s a diner about half an hour up the road,” he tries again. “Good coffee. Bad pie.”

You consider it, and on any other night you’d say yes without thinking, like you’ve done countless times before. But you remember that tonight, you’re not heading home. You’re heading back to the hotel room you’re sharing with your boss. The same four beige walls that felt far too small last night.

You hadn’t realised that sharing a bed would also mean sharing melatonin. Though clearly Hotch got the better end of the deal, sleeping like a man immune to proximity-induced panic while you lay still, every muscle tense, your heart hammering as if trying to pound thoughts into words you had no business thinking.

“Can’t we make the drive back home tonight?” you ask, shifting to look at him. “I can drive most of the way if you want to doze off.”

“I think given the weather and your driving skills, that wouldn’t be a wise choice.”

“What’s wrong with my driving skills?”

“You once reversed into a mailbox.”

You scoff. “You weren’t even in the car when that happened.”

“No,” he says, unbothered, “but I did have to file the vehicle incident report explaining why the Bureau SUV suddenly had a dent in the rear bumper.”

You glance out again and he’s right. Sheets of rain blur the road, the wipers swiping furiously just to keep a sliver of the world in view. You’d sooner chew down a mouthful of nails than attempt to drive in this, and considering Hotch handled the entire drive here and carried most of the interview, it hardly seems fair to pester him to slog through another four hours just so you can sleep in your own bed. 

“You did well,” he offers obligingly, and you know he’s trying to patch up your bruised ego.

You hadn’t imagined your last few days with the BAU would involve revisiting what was meant to be a closed case. But new evidence had surfaced, linking back to one of your consults which, after this week, wouldn’t even be yours anymore. It would probably be passed on to JJ or Morgan, but you’d insisted on coming, unwilling to leave loose ends behind. 

That insistence had landed you on a two-day trip with Hotch accompanied by a night in a cheap, overbooked hotel, one bed, a sleepless night yesterday, and the creeping dread of repeating it again tonight.

“You’re lying. I barely got him to talk.” 

“You did more than you realise. We managed to get a name.”

We. You turn your head and catch the faintest hint of amusement tugging at his mouth. “You managed to get a name,” you correct. 

His shoulders lift in a slight shrug, eyes still on the road. “It was a team effort.”

“Well, I suppose it's not really going to be my problem anymore after this week.” You exhale, resting your temple against the cold glass.

“Do you need me to stop anywhere before the hotel?”

“Yes, actually.” You turn towards him with a half-smile, because if you’re going to be forced to share the covers with Hotch again, you’re not doing it sober. “Pretty sure there’s a gas station off the next exit, if you wouldn’t mind?”

He nods, and you go back to overthinking the bane of your existence until Hotch finally pulls into the saddest-looking gas station you’ve ever seen.

“Do you need anything?” you ask, unclipping your seatbelt and letting it snap back harder than necessary, purely because you know it irritates him.

His jaw tics. “You can take it off without assaulting the mechanism, you know.”

“So nothing, then?”

“Coffee. If they have it.”

“Sure.” You pause, then grin at him. “I’ll get you a drink.” 

You’re out of the car before he can clarify that he meant just coffee. The cold air immediately slides under your coat, no matter how tightly you pull it around yourself. The rain’s turned into that annoying misty kind—so light it shouldn’t count, but somehow it still sticks to your hair and makes you feel damp and miserable. You jog the last few steps to the door.

Inside, it smells vaguely of lemon cleaning wipes, which is funny, because absolutely nothing in here looks like it’s been cleaned. You don’t bother searching for the coffee machine since technically, you’re not taking orders from your Unit Chief anymore.

You make a beeline for the back fridges instead.

Rows of cheap wine stare back at you—the kind that would give Rossi a heart attack. You pick the worst looking bottle out of pure spite, already planning on texting him a picture just to ruin his evening. Then, for insurance, you grab a few miniature bottles of whiskey. On your way to the till, you snatch a bag of popcorn. The sweet kind.

Once you’ve paid, you head back to the car. Hotch reaches across to push the door open for you, and you slide in. The bag clinks in your hands, immediately giving away your intentions—something he’s clearly clocked, judging by the look he gives you.

“Sorry. The coffee machine was broken, so I got wine instead. Or whisky. Whatever floats your boat on this fine night.”

“Please tell me there's at least water in there.”

You reach into the bag and pull out a bottle, dropping it into the cup holder between you. “Have a little faith.”

He shakes his head in that disappointed-dad way he’s perfected over the years and shifts the car back into drive. The wipers groan across the windshield, and you take the moment to pull the questionable wine out of the bag to send a picture to Rossi. 

You get a reply just as Hotch is turning into the hotel’s car park.

Rossi: Is this a cry for help? Tell me that’s not going in your body. 💀🍷

You leave him on read, taking your clinking bottles with you as you follow Hotch out of the car and into the building. The two of you are quiet as you watch him fumble with the key to your room. Yes—key, not card, because it’s that ancient. Yet, for a man who can dismantle a Glock blindfolded, he still manages to miss the hole twice.

“Any time today would be nice.”

He exhales through his nose, slotting the key in on the third try. “You could always help.”

“Sure. Usually you just line it up and get it in the hole. Works for me most of the time.”

He goes still for half a second. Then, without looking at you, “You know there are moments I genuinely regret encouraging you to speak.”

The lock finally clicks and he pushes the door open for you. 

“Would you look at that,” you say as you brush past him, “you can find the spot.”

The room is exactly as small as you remember, and somehow the freshly made bed almost makes it look worse. Hotch had made it this morning while you were brushing your teeth, tighter and straighter than housekeeping ever could. Pillows fluffed and aligned, corners tucked. True military craftsmanship from a meticulous dork. 

A meticulous dork who is now taking off his jacket and folding it neatly over his go-bag and suddenly—though not surprisingly—your eyes are glued to the way his white shirt pulls across his shoulders.

You rip your gaze away and begin unpacking your haul. 

“You want the shower first?” he asks, and you glance at him, pretending it’s the first time you’ve looked at him since walking in.

“Nope. I want alcohol.”

He shakes his head, grabs his toiletry bag, and disappears into the tiny bathroom.

You’re about to enjoy the way this glorified paint thinner will probably strip your taste buds, when you realise there’s a slight problem. It’s a corked bottle and not a twist-off. You try using your nails to get it open, and then your sheer willpower. 

Unfortunately it does not respond to either. 

You give it one more useless tug before raising your voice. 

“Hotch?”

Water is running. He does not answer. 

You try again, louder. “Hotch!”

“What?” he calls through the door, voice muffled.

“Are you decent?”

There’s the faintest pause—long enough for you to smile to yourself because you can’t help but imagine him…not decent. 

“Yes,” he says cautiously. “Why?”

“I need help.”

“With what?”

“Alcohol-related emergency.”

You hear him sigh, followed by the water shutting off. A few seconds later, the bathroom door opens and he steps out, with only his belt missing. Interesting. He’s a belt off first kind of guy. 

He looks at the bottle, then at you. “You bought wine without a corkscrew.”

You hold it out to him. “Let me take this as a moment to remind you that I never handed paperwork in late, never took a sick day, never complained about overtime. I was, arguably, the model team member. This is the least you can do to show appreciation.”

He doesn’t argue. Just takes the bottle from your hands and sits on the edge of the bed with it.

Legs spread. Grey slacks pulling just slightly at the seams. Broad thighs taking up most of the mattress. He settles the bottle between them, and you do your absolute best to focus on the glass instead of the fabric creasing over muscle and the very distracting proximity of…everything else. 

He braces the bottle with one hand around the base and you forget how to form actual sentences. With his other hand, he uses his thumb to push the cork down into the bottle, veins flexing with each movement. 

The cork gives a soft, breathy sound as it starts to sink into the neck of the bottle, and you’re just standing there—useless, wine thirsty, and uncomfortably aware of the fact that this should not be as attractive as it is. 

He pulls his hand back as soon as the cork pops and sinks into the bottle, wiping his thumb absently against his thigh and you’re pretty much drooling at the sight, while he looks up at you, unfazed. 

“Happy now?”

“Mhm. Ecstatic. Guess you’ve got just as much trouble pulling out as you do finding the hole.”

“You know I can request to have you transferred earlier than Friday.”

“Go ahead,” you say, scanning the room for glasses. “Knock yourself out.” There are none. No glasses. No mugs. Not even a questionable plastic cup.

“You want to take your wine so I can go shower?” he asks flatly.

“You’re not joining me?” 

His eyes shift between you and the bottle. “How much was this?”

“Four ninety-nine.” You scrunch your nose as he brings it to his face and smells it. “Come on, you have to toast me. Rossi denied me a leaving party because apparently switching departments doesn't count as officially leaving.”

He lets out a slow breath. “You want a toast?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Or you could list your top five things about working with me. Or both. I have time.”

“Fine,” he resigns, moving along the edge of the bed to make space for you. “One toast.”

You grin as you drop down beside him, your knees touching. You watch as he brings the bottle closer to his lips and mulls over what to say. 

“To the fact you never did anything halfway,” he says earnestly and it catches you off guard. You were fully expecting something sarcastic like to the number of sex jokes you made on federal payroll. “Cases, paperwork, people,” he continues. “You were all in. Always.”

And then he tilts the bottle back. You shouldn’t stare, but you do. The way his mouth wraps around the glass, the slow swallow, the faint scrunch of his brows as the taste hits. He pulls it away with a barely-supressed grimace. 

“That’s awful,” he scoffs, handing it to you.

Your fingers brush when you take it, and you can’t help but wonder if his thumb still tastes like wine. You lift the bottle, deliberately pressing your mouth to the exact spot his lips just were, and you catch the way his eyes flick down to follow the movement before meeting yours again.

You take a swig, more than you should because it burns. “God—that’s fucking vile.”

He huffs a quiet laugh through his nose. “Told you.”

“Now you have to help me finish it. Otherwise I’ll die, and you’ll have to do the paperwork.”

“That’s manipulative.”

You shrug. “Is it? Thought extra paperwork would be your kind of foreplay.”

His lips twitch, and you almost catch the smile he’s trying so hard to suppress it’s making him look constipated. “You have a foul mouth,” he mutters, taking the bottle back and bringing it to his lips. 

“Is that the first of the five things you like about me?”

He pauses mid-sip, lowers the bottle just enough to give you that painfully patient stare. “We are not making a list.”

“So that’s a yes?”

He takes another swig, getting him out of answering. When he hands the bottle back, you notice his fingers linger a second longer than necessary, despite you having a firm hold on it. 

“Fine. No list. I’ll just assume it’s implied.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is.”

“It really isn’t.”

You roll your eyes, taking two big gulps that almost make your eyes water. 

The back and forth continues until the bottle is completely empty, along with the mini bottles of whiskey you picked up. The popcorn is gone too, aside from the sad trail of it now crushed into the hotel carpet from your failed attempt to open the bag like a normal person.

At some point, sitting upright stopped being doable. Your backs protested, your vision began to blur at the edges, and now the two of you were lying on top of the covers, side by side, legs still hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Are you still beating yourself up about earlier?” he asks, voice softer than it was before the cheap alcohol.

“A little,” you admit with a sigh. “I wanted to do one last thing before leaving. Not hand it back to you unfinished.”

“You softened him up. Made him think he was in control. It might not seem like much, but it helped.”

You huff and push yourself up onto your elbow, turning to face him. His eyes are a little glassy, and for once he looks relaxed. “Bet you’re going to miss using me as bait.”

He shifts his head to glance at you. “You’re only moving two floors down.”

“And what if my new boss doesn’t like to share?”

“You were always mine first,” he says it so casually, you’re not entirely sure he’s processed his own wording.

“Yours?” you let out a laugh, eyebrows lifting. 

“Ours,” he corrects, a vague flick of his hand. “The BAUs”

You’re fairly certain you like the sound of mine more. You look at him again, the alcohol throwing all discreetness out your system. He smiles back up at you in a way you don’t see often. His hair is all mussed, a thin layer of sweat making his skin glow. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks, pushing up onto his elbow to mirror you. 

You grin at him and he immediately regrets asking because he knows that look. He sighs and drops back onto the bed. “Never mind.”

“I think you need a shower.” You spare him your real thoughts.

“Thanks,” he mutters. “I don’t think I could even get my tie off right now.”

“Do you need a hand?”

He laughs quietly, rubbing a hand over his face. “I might.”

Sitting up takes more effort than it should. The room tilts a little when you move, but you manage to get onto your knees, wobbling and swaying, before Hotch reaches out and catches your wrist, stopping you from diving face first into his chest. 

“What’re you doing?” he asks, just as you swing a knee over his hips and ungracefully settle in his lap.

“Helping you get your tie off because you need to shower.”

He goes rigid beneath you, hands hovering near your waist like he’s unsure if he has permission to rest them on you. “You’re on top of me.”

“We can do this standing if you prefer?”

His eyes close for half a second, like he’s silently begging for patience. “No. Just—”

You catch the speed of that no and can’t help but smile, settling yourself against him. “Okay,” you breathe, leaning in. “Hold still.”

You’ve never actually taken a tie off someone before. Definitely not while tipsy. Which is probably why it’s going so badly. You yank at the knot once… twice… and somehow make it worse. “Why is this thing so tight? Are you into autoerotic asphyxiation or something?”

His hands finally come to rest on your waist. “Please don’t ever say that sentence again.”

“Have we just unlocked a secret turn-on category? It’s fine, I’m very accepting.”

He lets out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “It’s called a Windsor knot.”

“Well no wonder you’re so grumpy all the time—this Windsor knot is cutting off circulation to your brain.”

“You’re making it tighter,” he points out, voice sounding strained. He shifts, probably a poor attempt at comfort because all his movement does is press you directly against his groin.

Your fingers fumble with the fabric, because you’re too busy fighting the urge to move. To roll your hips. To test just how good the friction would feel. “Because you’re moving.”

“You’re on top of me.”

You tug at the fabric again. “I gave you the option to do this standing, didn’t I?”

His eyes shift to your lips, then slowly, he removes one hand from your waist. “Slide the narrow end through the loop,” he says, showing you. 

Fuck. He’s talking you through it. And you’re pretty sure you could get off on his voice alone, but you will yourself to focus. 

 “No—other side.”

You follow his direction, fingers brushing his throat. 

“Now loosen it,” he murmurs. His thumb presses lightly at the knot, guiding your hand. “Pull there.”

You do as you’re told, giving a gentle tug and the knot slides loosely apart. “Would you look at that! You’re tie-free.” 

You give it another tug, slipping it from his collar so you can inspect it. What you thought was just a diamond print now, up close, looks suspiciously like two Gs. You gasp. “Oh my god. You really spent two hundred dollars on a Gucci tie just to choke yourself?”

His hands are back on your waist again. “It was on sale.”

“You could’ve asked me,” you say, looping it clumsily around your neck. “I would’ve done it for free.”

“You’re wearing it backwards.”

“Well,” you breathe, setting your hands on his chest, the warmth of him not doing you any favours, “you’re the expert in expensive silk strangulation. Fix it for me.”

He looks at you intently. His pupils are blown wide, dark as ink, and you can feel exactly how hard he is beneath you. You wonder if he can feel how wet you are. Probably not—not through those overpriced, perfectly tailored slacks clearly designed to prevent situations like this from becoming obvious.

He reaches for the tie, fingers brushing your ribs as he takes each end. The back of his knuckles grazes the thin fabric of your blouse as he lifts the silk to straighten it. 

“You want it to lie like this,” he says softly. “Otherwise it twists.”

You don’t breathe. “Mhm.”

“Now it goes over and under…” His hands do exactly that, looping the fabric while all you can feel is the insistent throb between your thighs. The silk slides against you, his hands settling the knot at the top of your sternum, right between your breasts. 

“You can pull the longer end through here,” he murmurs and takes a hold of your hands, guiding them with his. His thumb presses to the knot to adjust it, dragging it higher. “See? Not that hard.”

You tilt your hips forward. “I don’t think that’s entirely true,” you whisper, fingers moving to the top button of his shirt, undoing it. You watch his Adam's apple bob around a swallow. “Do you want to know what I was really thinking about earlier?” you ask, working the second button loose, his white undershirt peeking through.

You glance up at him, and his eyes are fixed on the point where you’re straddling the hard line of his cock. “You’re going to tell me either way, aren’t you?”

“Mm,” you hum, dragging your thumb down the column of his throat, just to feel the way he swallows again. “I don’t have to.”

“But you want to.” His hands are back on your hips, fingertips pressing into your skin through your blouse.

You shrug, wetting your bottom lip. “I was thinking…whether you’ve ever actually thought about sleeping with me.” 

He stills briefly, like he remembers all the reasons why he shouldn’t be doing any of this, but also realises the two of you crossed that line half a bottle of wine ago. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

“Tonight doesn’t count. I mean before this. Have you thought about it?” There’s no shame in your voice, just curiosity.

His thumb slips beneath your blouse, making you roll your hips into him again. “Yes,” he grunts out.

“That’s it?”

“You asked a yes or no question.”

Your hand drifts lower, undoing another button on his shirt. “You could elaborate.”

“You really want me to do that right now?”

“Absolutely.” Your fingers pause, leaving his shirt half-open, and slide to the buttons of your own shirt. You toy with one absentmindedly. “Would it help if I took this off?”

His jaw flexes. He looks at your blouse. Then your mouth. Then your blouse again. “That’s not—” He cuts himself off, exhaling through his nose. 

“How about this,” you offer with a smile, “every time you tell me when you’ve thought about it, I take off a piece of clothing. Seems fair, don’t you think?”

“And if I don’t want to partake in this game?”

“Then I get off your lap, put on my most conservative pyjamas, go to sleep, you shower, and we never speak of this again.” You really, really hope that’s not the option he picks. “The choice is yours. You tell me what you want to do.”

He goes quiet, thinking—though with how hard his cock is pressing against you, practically straining in those slacks, you’re not convinced he’s capable of coherent thought. You’re hardly better. You’re fucking soaked, and technically the two of you haven’t even done anything remotely obscene. But apparently sitting on your boss’s lap counts as the world’s most effective form of foreplay.

“Rossi’s birthday last year,” he reveals. 

“I remember,” you nod and begin working your buttons down. “We stayed behind to help him clean up.”

“And you insisted on putting away the wine glasses—” He stops when your bra comes into view and swallows thickly before dragging his eyes to your face. “You climbed up onto the counter, almost fell and nearly shattered every glass in your hands.”

You laugh, shrugging your blouse off and tossing it on the floor so it can make friends with the popcorn crumbs. “I recall you having a pretty good view of my ass in the process.”

His eyes drop to the breasts spilling out your bra. “Not as good as the view I have now.”

“That’s one.” You toy with the strap of your bra. “Next.”

“The jet.”

You light up instantly.  “This’ll be good.” 

“We were coming back from Georgia and shared the sofa. You were lying on one end, I was sitting on the other.” 

“Do continue.”

“You move a lot in your sleep,” he goes on, eyes fixed on your face, though you can feel the tension in his hands at your hips. “Kept shifting… sighing… dragging the blanket up and then kicking it off again. And with every move, your skirt rode a little higher. I stopped looking when I realised I wasn’t just making sure you were covered. I was… staring.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” you coo sweetly, before attempting to climb off his lap without falling off the bed. His brows pull together as he watches you stand at the edge of the mattress, propped up on his elbows.

There’s a dark patch on his groin, and you don’t know if it’s from you, or him, or both, but it makes your stomach twist, makes you want to end this game so you could finally feel him inside you. 

But apparently you enjoy suffering—or making him suffer—especially when he’s looking up at you with his legs completely spread, those wide, helpless eyes and a face tinged pink. So you only smile, fingers sliding to the zipper of your trousers as you prompt innocently, “Did you like the tights I wore?”

“With the seam at the back,” he confirms just as you push the slacks down your thighs.

You hadn’t planned on playing strip—or confessional—poker with your Unit Chief, which is exactly why your underwear is nothing special. Plain grey cotton and embarrassingly damp. You freeze for only a second, then lift your chin like you meant for it to be this way.

“I don’t think I can keep going,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“You can’t last two more rounds?” you tease, kicking out of the fabric pooling at your ankles. “I won’t count the tie as clothing.”

His eyes drag over you like he’s in pain. “I mean if you keep this up for any longer, I’m going to finish in my pants like a teenager.”

You try very hard not to preen. “I’ll do you a deal,” you say, taking a slow step forward until you’re standing between his legs. “Make this one really good…” You lean in slightly, just enough for the tips of your fingers to brush his knee. “…and I’ll take everything off.”

He swallows.

“The last Christmas party.” His words come easily, like this specific memory had been on the edge of his mind for a while.

You nod. “You were my ride.”

“You had on that black dress with the slit up your thigh. You went upstairs to fix your lipstick and asked me to show you the bathroom.” He sits up, his hands coming to rest on the backs of your thighs. “And then your zipper conveniently decided to undo itself halfway down your spine.”

“That zip was very flimsy.”

“I put my hand on your back and you arched into it. Maybe you didn’t even realise you did it. But I did.” His thumb strokes idly against your skin, eyes half-lidded. “All I could think about was how easy it would’ve been to push that dress the rest of the way down… bend you over the sink and make you watch in the mirror.”

Heat pools low in your stomach. “And you didn’t.”

“You were tipsy and said you’d had too much champagne. So I zipped it back up and walked you downstairs.”

“Such a gentleman.” Your hands are already moving. You reach behind you, fingers brushing the clasp of your bra. “Well…a deal's a deal.” You take your time—partly on purpose, partly because your fingers are shaking the tiniest bit. The clasp gives, and you roll the straps lazily off your shoulders before letting fabric fall.

Hotch has gone completely still, the hands on your thighs frozen like he’s afraid to blink and miss something. The only thing moving are his eyes, dragging over your body so slowly it makes your skin burn. “You okay?”

His tongue sweeps across his bottom lip before he answers. “You know I’m not.”

“Will it make you feel better to do the honours?” Your hands cover his, guiding them up from your thighs to the waistband of your panties. 

He looks up at you, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this. Wrecked and glassy-eyed. He looks like someone who’d do anything you told him to. If they handed out awards for driving tightly wound, hyper-controlled men right to the edge of composure, you’re certain you’d win.

“Go on,” you whisper softly. “You’ve earned it.”

His fingers slip beneath the waistband and his touch is gentle as he starts easing the fabric down your hips. You glance down as he drags them lower, the inside of your underwear looking far worse than the outside. When you look back up, Hotch is already watching you, mouth curved into a crooked, boyish grin, validated that he’s not the only one soaking his undergarments. 

You step out of them the moment they hit the floor.

Hotch’s hands are on you right away, sliding up the backs of your thighs until they settle at the curve of your ass, pulling you closer.  He presses a wet kiss followed by a bite to your hip, your hands finding his shoulders to steady yourself.

“I want you on my tongue.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, laying back down and the room is tilting again. Whether from the cheap wine or the intoxication of him, you’re not sure. All you can do is follow, crawling up his body until your knees bracket his head. You don’t lower yourself down just yet.

He doesn’t touch you right away. Just…looks. 

“You need instructions?” you tease, threading your fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. 

The bastard only laughs, the warm puff of air against your inner thigh making your breath catch. Then he’s lifting his head, and all you can do is watch—lips parted, hand still tangled in his hair—as his tongue finally makes contact with your pussy, dragging a slow stripe up your centre that makes your hips twitch. 

He pulls back with obscene patience, and you know exactly why, because a thin, pearly string of your wetness stretches from his mouth to you, and he has the audacity to look proud of it. 

He watches the strand break and you barely have time to process what’s happening before he’s hauling you down until you’re sitting on his face. His mouth opens wider to taste more of you, his tongue flattening and dragging through you, like he’s been dying for this. He absolutely has.

“Fuck!” you choke out, yanking at his hair, only for him to groan in response. Your hips stumble forward and for a second, you fear for the man’s airway with the way you’re practically smothering him between your thighs, but you realise he’s the one that’s pulling you down against him.

“So sweet for me,” he thrums, voice buried. You feel more than hear it, a vibration of sound right where you’re most sensitive. Your thighs tremble around his ears as he licks a messy path up you, then dips lower, tongue slipping inside, the bridge of his nose nudging your clit perfectly.

A whimper spills out before you can bite it back. You rock into him without meaning to, pulse skittering like it’s trying to outrun your body, that familiar feeling already building too fast.

And that’s when he slows. Doesn’t completely stop, just changes the pace in a way that has you letting out a strangled noise. 

“Really?” you pant, trying to catch your breath. “Is this your first time?” You lift yourself enough to look down at him. 

“Ask me nicely.”

“What?”

His chin glistens and he looks infuriatingly pleased with himself. “You’re used to demanding things.” His hands squeeze the sides of your thighs. “I think it’s time you learnt to be polite.”

Asshole. 

You let out a sharp breath, giving his hair a tug. “Please,” you bite out.

He smiles smugly, and then he’s lifting his head to suck your clit into his mouth. A whole parade of curses spill out of you—creative ones too, the kind you don’t even usually say out loud—tripping over each other so fast you barely recognise your own voice. 

And then he pulls back. Again. 

“Please what?” 

Correction: he’s a vindictive asshole.

You see exactly what he’s doing. You recognise his pettiness exactly for what it is. You tormented him first, made him spell it out for you, and now he’s returning the favour. He’s a desperate, competitive perfectionist who insists on winning everything, even the art of sexual torture. 

“Sadist,” you hiss. 

“Mm.” He turns his head and sinks his teeth gently into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “Now be specific.”

You give him a dry humourless smile. “Please make me come. First with your mouth and then with your cock.” You drag a thumb along his jaw tauntingly. “Is that specific enough for you?”

His mouth is back on you again in seconds. No easing in this time. 

“Jesus—” you gasp, hands bracing on the mattress above his head for balance. The sheets bunch beneath your fingers, the material scratching against your palms. 

You feel his tongue circle and suck, like he’s trying to gauge every possible sound out of you, catalogue every single nerve you possess. Your thighs tighten around his temples, the drag of his stubble scraping lightly against your skin. 

He pulls you even lower, thumbs digging into your hips, like he wants to disappear into you entirely. The movement forces you down onto his tongue, and the wet, needy sounds he’s making against your cunt are so lewd, you swear you feel them echo behind your ribs. 

“Hotch—fuck!”

He hums at the sound, and then his hands shift, big palms sliding up your back, adjusting your angle to give him better access. 

“Okay—okay—slow down—” you whimper, even though your hips are doing the exact opposite.

“You asked nicely,” he mumbles into you.

Your laugh comes out breathless and shaky, your whole body tensing under the intensity of his tongue. “I didn’t think—ah—nicely would get me this.”

He answers without words, drawing a slow circle around your clit, and another moan tumbles out of you. You’re close. You can feel it in every part of you, in your thighs trembling around his ears, in the tight pull at the base of your spine. 

You gasp, head tipping back. “I—I’m—”

“You can come,” he says headily, tugging you closer. “Go on.”

You tense and wither against him. “Say it,” you pant. “Say you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

Your body caves forward, thighs clamping his head as your orgasm pulls you under so fast you forget to breathe, forget to think, forget everything except the feeling of coming apart on his mouth, wishing you could bottle it forever. 

It takes you a few minutes to come back to Earth. Earth being a cheap hotel room in the middle of nowhere. 

The first thing you register is the way Hotch’s thumb strokes your hip, then the press of his mouth to the inside of your thigh, another kiss, then another. You manage to lift yourself, and he immediately helps you, guiding your waist tenderly, letting you settle over him in your dazed state. 

“Hi,” you croak. 

He raises a brow, amused. “Hi.”

“Your face is shiny.”

A slow smile stretches across his mouth. “That would be your fault.”

“I can help with that,” you murmur, leaning down and running your tongue along the line of his jaw, tasting yourself on his skin. Your mouth then grazes the corner of his lips, and that’s when you realise—this man has had his tongue inside you, yet…you don’t know what he tastes like. The two of you haven't actually kissed. 

He must sense something is wrong, because his brows lift slightly, like he’s puzzled by the sudden stillness in your body. “What is it?”

You huff a tiny laugh, breath ghosting his cheek. “We haven’t even kissed.” You pull back, cupping his face in both hands, thumbs sweeping across his chin to clean the shine you left there. 

“You want to?” he asks like it’s a reasonable question, like he didn’t just have his mouth on the most intimate part of your body minutes ago.

“Aaron, you just had me sitting on your face. What do you think?”

“Aaron,” he repeats.

“That’s your name isn’t it?”

“Mm.” His hands tighten at your waist. “Say it again.”

“Are you going to kiss me, Aaron?”

For a second, he just stares up at you, like you’ve asked him something sacrilegious, something he's wanted for so long he’s almost afraid it's not real. His hands slide up your bare waist, settling at your ribs, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Come here.” 

You meet him halfway.

His lips brush yours delicately, soft enough to make your stomach lurch in anticipation.

You pull back a fraction, just to see his face, and then you’re kissing him again, deeper, tasting something you’ve both been orbiting for years. His tongue slides against yours, the kiss swallowing the moan that slips out of you. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you breathe against his mouth, the words almost a whine.

“Which ones are bothering you?”

“All of them,” you answer, fingers blindly racing to undo the rest of his shirt. “Sit up.”

He obeys with little afterthought, pushing up on his elbows so you can shove the fabric off his shoulders. You don’t bother folding it neatly, tossing it onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor, and you catch the tiny wince he tries (and fails) to hide.

“Arms up.” You grab the hem of his undershirt, tugging, and he sits up properly this time—bringing your bare, aching centre directly against the hard line of his cock.

The sound he lets out is a half-breath, half-groan at the contact. You don’t get the chance to tease him for it. You’re too busy hauling the undershirt over his head, and he has no choice but to help you strip it off. When it joins the rest of the discarded clothes, you press your hands to his shoulders, giving him a gentle push. He falls back without resistance, molten under your touch. 

You lean down, placing a kiss under his jaw, then another just below it, relishing in the way his breath stutters each time your mouth lands on new skin. His chest is warm under your lips, rising and falling in a rhythm that’s embarrassingly close to a pant. 

“Christ,” he mutters, and you grin against him, continuing to kiss your way down.

You press another kiss just above the waistband of his trousers, moving down to nudge the bulge beneath the fabric with the bridge of your nose. His reaction is instant. His hips twitch, hands shooting to your hair.

“Want me to stop?” you ask sweetly, glancing up at him through your lashes.

He shakes his head far too quickly. “Keep going.”

So you do. You kiss along the outline of him through the slacks, the damp patch dragging faintly across your lips with each pass. His thighs flex beneath your hands, his breathing falling out in tight, rigid bursts, the fabric getting warmer and wetter under your mouth. You drag your lips along the length of him once more, slow enough to be cruel, and his whole body jolts. 

That’s when you take pity. 

Your fingers finally move to his zipper, and you feel Hotch’s eyes on you as you ease it down. He lifts his hips immediately, allowing you to roll the slacks off him. The second they hit the floor, you’re already hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. He lifts his hips again—quicker and needier—as you drag the last piece of clothing down his thighs. 

And then he’s bare beneath you.

You sit back for a second, just to drink him in, mouth salivating at the flushed skin of his stomach, the tense lines of his abdomen, the way his cock rests hard and heavy on his stomach, precum sliding down the curve of him. You reach out without thinking, placing both hands on his thighs for balance as you crawl back up his body. Hovering over him, you lower your hips, feeling the head of his length nudge your inner thigh. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, almost like the words slip from him before he can decide whether he’s allowed to say them. His hands trace up your sides, thumbs brushing under your breasts.

That sentence almost makes you coy. Almost. But your body apparently didn’t get the memo, because your hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly, and Hotch hisses through his teeth. He’s painfully hard in your palm, every throb pulsing against your grip. 

You press him back against his stomach and grind down on him.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, voice shaking when the slick tip knocks directly against your clit. His hands grab your hips, fingers digging in. “I’m close, and I want to feel you. All of you. I don’t think I’ll be able to last if you keep doing that.”

You roll your hips again, a trembling little slide that makes your breath catch. “You will,” you whimper, leaning forward until your lips brush his. “For me.”

His jaw goes disastrously tight, eyes squeezing shut for half a second before they find yours again, throat constricting around a swallow—and you can’t help the grin that curls up in response. You almost regret leaving the unit, because Monday’s briefing would’ve been something, watching him give orders with a straight face while knowing he couldn’t even wait until he was inside you to come.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he rasps. His hand leaves your hip, slides up your spine, and gathers a fistful of your hair. He tugs it, just enough to pull a gasp from your mouth, and then lifts his head to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss against your jaw. 

You laugh, his exhale scorching against your skin. Your hand slips between your bodies, wrapping around his length again, and you pull away from his mouth as you shift upright. You rise onto your knees, finally guiding his head of his cock to your entrance, his precum coating your pussy, your thighs, his own stomach. 

“I think you’re enjoying this far more than I am,” you murmur—right before you sink down on him, only a fraction, enough to make you both tense at the contact. 

“Slow—” he manages, voice breaking around it. “Go slow.”

You pause there, barely taking the head of him, but it's enough for heat and pressure to spark low in your belly. “Slow?” you echo, tilting your head, pretending to consider it. “I don’t know… you weren’t exactly slow with me.”

His hands clamp down on your hips. “That was different.”

You give a faint roll of your hips, just enough for him to feel how wet you still are, how easy it would be to slide all the way down. His breath stumbles out of him, all of his authority stripped. 

“Different how?” you tease, tracing a finger down his chest, stopping right where his stomach flexes under your touch. 

His eyes flutter shut and when they open again, his pupils are blown, jaw clenching like he’s fighting the urge to thrust into you. “Different,” he repeats, “because I’ve been wanting this a long time.”

“How long?” you probe, sinking down onto him further, the stretch of him intoxicating. His head thunks back against the mattress, a groan lurching out of him. 

“Two—years,” he gets out, voice splintering as you take more of him. 

You still for a second. “Two years?”

“You’re surprised?”

“I mean… yeah? You don’t exactly flirt. You scowl. And file paperwork. And tell me I have a foul mouth.” You lower yourself another inch, slow enough to make him choke on a sound he’d absolutely murder himself for making in any other circumstance. You feel the stretch deep in your belly.

“Aaron,” you whisper, dragging your nails lightly down his chest. “Look at me.”

He does instantly. 

“You’ve been wanting this for two years?” 

He nods, and you sink down onto him, all the way, until the dark curls at the base of him brush your clit. He’s deep—too deep—in a way you’ve never felt before, his cock throbbing inside you as you bite down on a moan. 

“Don’t move yet. Just…give me a second,” he whispers, hands kneading the flesh of your ass.

Your fingers splay across his torso as you adjust to him. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or do anything about it?”

“Because I was your superior. Still am. For another thirty-six hours.”

“You’re telling me you waited two years because of HR?”

“Because it was the right thing to do.”

You shake your head, lift your hips, and take him again. He fills you up completely, the tip nudging deep enough to pull a choked sound from your throat. You’d imagined him like this—God, probably longer than two years—but it still doesn’t compare. 

“You feel so fucking perfect,” he pants, his right hand guiding your roll against him. “So, so perfect,” he mutters, voice fraying as you rise off him and then sink back down. 

His spare hand comes up to palm your breast, this thumb brushing the underside before his fingers catch your nipple and pinch. Your head tips back immediately, a moan spilling from you as the pleasure arcs up your spine. 

“That’s it,” he grits. “Just like that.”

Every time you sink back down, he stretches you just a little more, hits that spot just a little harder. Your thighs start to tremble with the effort. His right hand only tightens at your hip, guiding your pace, manipulating your angle because of course he knows what feels better. But it’s his other hand, the one that’s still on your chest, that begins to slide lower, drifting over your ribs, over your stomach, the curve of your pelvis.

You don’t even realise what he’s reaching for until his thumb finds your clit.

A helpless cry breaks out of you.

“There she is…” he coaxes, thumb moving in a circle motion. “So pretty and vocal for me.”

You pick up the pace at the praise naturally. His breath falters, hips stuttering every time you grind down and meet his thumb at the same time. 

“Aaron—” 

His head tips back, a vein standing out at his neck, jaw clenched so tightly the muscle jumps beneath his skin. His thumb slips against your clit with every shake of his body, but he doesn’t stop. If anything, he presses harder, circles tighter, chasing you towards the edge even as he’s sliding towards his own.

“Sweetheart, slow—slow down—”

You don’t. You do the opposite, rocking into him, burying him inside of you. You feel yourself clench around him.

“Fuck!” he groans, your name following. His hands fly back to your hips, trying to hold you still, but your body squeezes around him and his own hips jerk helplessly. The sound he makes next is loud enough you’re almost certain the entire floor hears it. Every muscle in his stomach goes taut as he throbs inside you, warmth spilling in hot waves as he comes harder than you’ve ever heard him breathe. 

One of his hands drags back down to your clit, despite the fact that his whole body seems to shake and twitch. He tries to keep his eyes open—tries to keep watching you on top of him—but his lashes flutter shut as you ride out the aftershocks pulsing through him. 

You feel the warmth of his release seep out of you, ropes catching your inner thigh, clinging around the base of his still-sensitive cock. He finally forces his eyes open, his thumb still on your clit.

“Are you close?” he rasps. 

You nod, legs shaking around him, barely able to hold yourself upright.

“Okay, baby… okay.” His breath stumbles, his whole body jolting each time you move, but his thumb keeps working you. 

“Aaron—” Your voice cracks, head falling forward as a wave of heat curls deep in your stomach.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Come on.”

You grind down again, chasing the high, and he groans at the contact, but pulls you flush against his hips so you can keep moving. Your hands slide across his chest, clutching his shoulders, needing something to hold as the pressure tightens like a fist around your spine. 

Your thighs clamp around his hips, your body clenching so fiercely around him that his head falls back with a quiet whimper. He tries to thrust instinctively, but he’s too sensitive. He trembles through the shock of it anyway, jaw flexing, teeth gritted as he tries to stay still for you. 

“Sweetheart—” he gasps, “I need—you have to—please—”

And that does it. The please. Hearing him say it. 

Your release slams into you like a freight train. 

Your whole body seizes around him, your nails dragging down his chest as your vision whites out, a sharp sob catching in your throat. The orgasm tears through you in violent waves, blinding and completely overwhelming. 

Your body finally goes limp, folding over him, your hands bracing on either side of his head as you lean forward. A thin string of drool slips past your lips as you gasp for air, your pussy still pulsing around his cock in tight, involuntary aftershocks.

Hotch’s arms come up your back immediately, palms splayed, rubbing slow strokes along your spine. 

“Easy,” he murmurs. “Easy…I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

You manage a shuddering inhale against his throat, your forehead pressed to the warm curve of his shoulder. You can hear and feel his heartbeat beneath you, syncing with your own like your bodies haven’t quite figured out how to separate yet. 

His hand moves up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. “There you go,” he whispers. “That’s it.”

Your lips brush the base of his throat when you exhale. “Don’t pull out just yet,” you mumble against him, wanting to keep him inside as long as you possibly can, unsure when—if—you’ll ever get this close to him again.

“I’m not going anywhere. You can have as long as you want.” 

You both go quiet for a moment, appreciating the soft ache of being filled and held at the same time. His chest rises beneath you with each slow breath, your body melting deeper into the lines of his. 

You lift your head up after a while, meeting his eyes. “Two years, huh?” 

He lets out a soft laugh. “Two years.”

“What’s the right thing to do now?” you ask, brushing the back of your knuckles along his jaw. 

“You need to go pee so I can get you cleaned up.”

You groan into his neck. “Gee, way to ruin a moment.”

“And then,” he adds, kissing your temple, “when your transfer is official… I can take you out to dinner…If you’d like that?”

“A date?” you ask quietly.

“If you want it to be.”

You pull back to look at him properly. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says with a smile, voice warm. “That’s what I was hoping.”

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It only means one thing.

He’s visiting.

And your heart almost exploded at the idea.

With light and careful steps, you bolted down the stairs, quickly trudging towards the spacious living room where your father and his best friend were talking. Your anticipation rose higher with each step, and by the time you reached the staircase landing, your face was flushed with excitement. Eagerly, you rounded the corner, your eyes scanning the room until they landed on a certain man whose sight alone was enough to knock you off your feet.

Aaron Hotchner was standing near the fireplace, absorbed by the conversation he was having with your father, his tall frame and commanding presence impossible to miss.

“Aaron!” You called out, your voice bright and laced with obvious adoration.

Aaron whirled instantly at the sound of your voice, a warm smile spreading across his face. 

“Oh, hey there,” he greeted back, mirroring your wide grin.

You crossed the room in quick strides and flung your arms around him, which he returned with an amused chuckle. His arms wrapped tightly around you in a familiar, comforting embrace. And the first whiff of his scent threw you in a whirlpool of affection. It feels like falling in love with him all over again. The very same way you felt on your 25th birthday when he asked you for a dance and wrapped you in his gentle warmth in the middle of the dance floor.

The closeness now was making you dizzy; the heavy scent of his perfume, the firmness of his body, and the feeling of being held by him after so long.

“It’s so good to see you!” You said, your voice muffled against his shoulder. You clung to him a moment longer than necessary, enjoying the contact. “It’s been a while since you dropped by. I thought you forgot about us!”

Aaron chuckled at your whiny voice.

“It's good to see you too,” Aaron replied calmly. He pulled back from the hug, keeping his hands on your shoulders as he looked at you. “I’m sorry, work’s been keeping me busy. How have you been?”

You smiled up at him. “Great. You know, same as always. Just busy with work and everything.” 

You tried sounding casual to not appear too excited. You felt his rough hands squeeze your shoulders gently before finally letting go.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

As he released you, a pang of disappointment swirled down your stomach, but you quickly masked it with another bright smile. 

With a tentative step back, you clasped your hands behind you and rocked back and forth in your tiptoes, staring back at him. Aaron chuckled softly at your innocent gesture, a sound that sent a chill through your spine. 

“Aaron’s just in town for a bit, sweetheart. I believe they just finished a case,” Your father chimed in with a smile, watching your usual interaction with his best friend. “Thought he’d drop by and catch up.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” You mumbled, your gaze never leaving Aaron’s face. 

“Me too,” Aaron replied quietly, smiling at you. “It’s always nice to be here.”

Your heart hammered against your chest almost painfully. Jesus Christ, this man is aging like a fine wine. You doubt you’ve seen anyone as handsome and attractive as he is. He always looked so good in your eyes. And it seems like he’s getting hotter and hotter every time you get to see him. Is it even possible for someone to look this good? Shouldn’t this be a federal crime?

Before you could even stop yourself, the words slipped out of your lips.

“You really should come by more often, Aaron,” You suggested out of nowhere, a hint of hopefulness in your tone. “I mean… you know… it’s just me and Dad here. It’s not like we have a lot of friends who come over.”

Your heart soared as he continued staring at you. Unknowingly, heat rushed through your face because of that. You started panicking in your head. Was that out of line? Was that too much? Oh God, maybe that’s too much. He must be thinking you’re desperate for company- his company. Or maybe he thinks you’re weird for asking th—

“I’ll try, angel,” his expression remained soft as he nodded. “Promise.”

You let out a soft sigh.

Seems like he didn’t mind too much.

The late afternoon sun casted a warm glow over the backyard of your home. Aaron and your father stood by the grill, occupied in a seemingly humorous conversation, the smell of grilled meat wafting through the open air. Both of them had cold beers in hand, laughing and chatting as they tended to the meat they were grilling.

It was a quiet afternoon. 

By the pool, you decided to lounge on a large swan floater, enjoying the last hours of the day. You were clad in a white bikini adorned with soft pink ribbons that fluttered slightly in the gentle breeze. A pair of oversized sunglasses shielded your eyes from the sun as you sipped on a mango smoothie, humming quietly to yourself.

A thick book lay open in your lap, but your attention was divided. Aaron would often catch you glancing up, watching him and your father with a small smile on your lips. He’d only mirror your smile and go back to their conversation, leaving you to your own thoughts and your fluttering, little heart.

The sight of Aaron, relaxed and at ease, filled you with a sense of relief and contentment. He was wearing a navy blue shirt and denim pants, all casual and handsome from where he was standing. You couldn’t help but admire the way he laughed at your father’s terrible jokes, his eyes crinkling at the very corners. 

The sound of his deep, hearty laughter echoed in your ears.

How you wish you could always have him around.

Despite the book in your hands, you couldn’t focus so much on reading. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Aaron, the way he looked, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his presence. You could barely remember the first time you found him attractive. Maybe somewhere deep down, you’ve always known he’s the most attractive man you have ever met.

You took another sip of your smoothie, savoring the sweet, tangy flavor as you unconsciously let your gaze linger on him… again.

“How’s that book?” Your father called out, glancing over at you with a smile.

You grinned, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the gentle splashing of the water. “It’s good. But I’m enjoying the sun more.”

Aaron looked over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You look like you’re having a great time,” he said, his eyes briefly wandering on your bare legs before returning to your face.

Crimson red dusted your already flushed cheeks.

“Well, I am...” Your voice trembled a little, your heart fluttering at the attention. “And I’m hungry. That smells good I can’t focus here.”

Your father chuckled, flipping a burger on the grill. “Just wait until you taste these burgers, sweetheart. Aaron here has some secret grilling tips.”

“No, no. I’ll be the judge of that, Dad.”

You laughed, leaning back on the swan floater. And as Aaron’s gaze landed in your direction again, he took a swig of his cold beer.

“We’ll make sure to save you the best one,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “I bet you’ll forget your own name.”

“Oh, that’s cocky!”

He chuckled at your reaction. “Just a little fact.”

“As I said, I’ll be judge of that." 

You beamed at him, feeling a ribbon of happiness twirling in your stomach. 

The evening eventually settled into a comfortable night. After a delicious dinner Aaron insisted on preparing, the three of you moved to the living room. The television was on and cast a soft glow in the dimmed space as a series played.

Aaron and your father sat on the large couch, sipping on their brandy. While you occupied the solo couch, your legs tucked beneath you as you watched the scenes intently, munching on the red velvet cupcake Aaron brought for you earlier.

“Oh, oh—” You shrieked, covering your eyes quickly as you reached an intense moment between the main characters, the tension was so thick that you felt uncomfortable watching it with your father.

Aaron glanced at you and chuckled, licking the bitter alcohol left in his lower lip.

“You okay?” He asked gently, amused by your reaction.

You shook your head while laughing. “That’s not— that shouldn’t be allowed. They look so good together!”

Aaron laughed in agreement, nodding his head in accord. But it quickly died down when your father joined the conversation.

“You know, it’s inappropriate, isn’t it? An old man with such a young woman,” your father suddenly commented, sipping on his drink before shaking his head.

You felt a slight flush of embarrassment. You found yourself darting your glance at Aaron to see his reaction. On his seat, he remained silent, his eyes focused on the screen, but you noticed the subtle tightening of his jaw.

“Really, Dad, that’s your concern?” You tried sounding humorous, clearing your throat a little. “That’s literally her uncle. Doesn’t that freak you out?”

“Silly girl, of course, it does!” You chuckled awkwardly at your father’s dry reply. “It’s already wrong from our moral standpoint. What I’m saying is, that’s a grown man hitting on a young woman. That’s highly inappropriate.”

Aaron took a slow sip of his drink, still not commenting, but you could sense the discomfort radiating from him. You shifted in your seat, feeling a mix of curiosity and unease.

“It definitely makes you think,” your father continued, oblivious to the tension. “I mean, what could they possibly have in common?”

The scenes continued with you and Aaron both silent. After a few more moments, your father turned to Aaron with a more cheerful tone. 

“So... have you been on any dates lately? You never talk about your love life.”

Aaron finally looked away from the TV, a slight smile playing on his lips. “I’ve been busy with work, you know how it is. Haven’t had much time for dating.”

Your father’s interest was piqued, and so was yours. “Come on, there must be someone. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head. And suddenly, the red velvet cupcake no longer tastes appetizing. It turned all bitter and dry against your tongue.

“I’ve had a few dates here and there, but nothing serious.”

“Oh, right. What’s her name again? Beth, right?”

You felt a pang of something you couldn’t quite name. Jealousy, maybe? Aaron dating other women was a topic you actually didn’t like to think about. Who the hell is Beth?

“Maybe you should settle down,” your father suggested, leaning back in his seat. “Find someone who can put up with your crazy work schedule. You know, after Haley divorced you because of that…”

Aaron laughed softly, but there was a hint of resignation in his tone. “Easier said than done.”

Your throat dried up as their conversation continued. It feels like you’ve been eating sand. You fidgeted on the cupcake box perched on your lap as you unconsciously glanced over the kitchen, thinking of getting yourself water. But Aaron’s eyes met yours briefly, and you felt a spark of something electric pass between you.

Which made you look away.

You tried to focus on the television screen, but your thoughts kept returning to Aaron, wondering if he ever thought of you as more than just his best friend’s daughter. Maybe not.

Definitely not.

The tension in the living room had become palpable you had to excuse yourself to the kitchen. As you walked away, you felt Aaron’s gaze lingering on you, sending a trail of shivers down your spine.

You let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding as you reached the kitchen. You filled a glass with cold water and took a slow sip, letting the cool liquid soothe your nerves. The silence of the kitchen contrasted with the awkwardness in the living room.

“Hey,” Aaron’s deep voice jolted you out of your thoughts.

You turned around to see him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. As always, your heart skipped a beat, wallowing from his very presence.

“Hey,” you said back, trying to sound casual, “you need something?”

“I just wanted to check on you.”

You forced a smile and didn’t say anything. Aaron took a step closer, the space between you shrinking until he was only a foot away. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his presence and scent overwhelming your senses.

“I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hmm. Just too much cupcake. Too sweet.”

His eyes softened as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. The gentle touch made you blush, and you found yourself leaning into his hand, craving for more.

“Aaron,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “This... I don’t know what to do with this.”

He sighed, his thumb caressing your cheek. 

The world seemed to have gone quiet. The hum of the refrigerator, the distant sound of the TV in the other room— all of it faded into the background. All you could focus on was Aaron, and the way his attention narrowed down on you. Like you’re the only one that matters in his world.

Almost as if in a trance, you pushed on your tiptoes, leaning in to Aaron’s lips. Blood rushed through your head with your own action. You could feel his breath on your lips, the hint of alcohol intoxicating.

But just as your lips were about to meet, Aaron pulled back abruptly. His jaw clenched when he glanced down at you.

“We can't do this.”

“Aaron…”

He shook his head, stepping back further. “It’s not right. You know that.”

“I don’t understand. I thought... I thought you felt the same.”

Tears welled up in your eyes.

“This is inappropriate,” He said instead, his voice strained. “I’m sorry.”

You looked away, biting your lip to keep yourself from crying. Aaron sighed as he saw you keeping your tears at bay, his eyes filled with regret.

Silence enveloped you both for a moment, while the weight of his words was crushing your hopeful heart.

“It’s okay, Aaron. It’s not your fault you don’t feel the same…” your smile trembled before you finally walked passed him.

The night had grown late. After finishing the episode, your father called out it was time for bed. You quickly made your way to your room, bidding them both quick goodnight, trying to push aside the pain and disappointment from your earlier encounter with Aaron.

You slipped into your pajamas, a simple tank top, and silk shorts, and climbed into bed. The silence was comforting, allowing your thoughts to slowly drift away. You tried to focus on anything but Aaron, the silence of the night, the coldness of your room, but his face kept appearing in your mind, his words echoing in your ears— and the fact that he’s literally in the guest room next to yours.

Just as you were staring mindlessly at the ceiling, you heard a quiet knock on your door. Your heart leaped as you stood up, your breath caught in your throat.

“Aaron?” you whispered, not entirely sure if you’re dreaming.

The door creaked open, and there he was, standing in the doorway. He looked hesitant as he stepped inside, his expression unreadable in the dim light of your room.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded mutely, unable to trust your voice. He closed the door gently behind him as he finally stepped inside. The room felt even smaller with him in it, the air thick with tension.

“What are you doing here?” you finally managed to ask.

Aaron took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about... earlier.”

A bitter smile rose on your lips.

“I know I said it’s inappropriate,” he continued, his voice strained. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You swallowed thickly. “What are you saying?”

He moved closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “That this is tearing me apart. I know it’s complicated, and I know I said it can’t happen, but... I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel anything for you.”

The room filled with the quiet sound of your breathing as you both stood there, just staring at each other. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Come here,” you said softly, pulling him closer.

Aaron hesitated for a split second, then stepped forward, wrapping you in a tight hug. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. Being in his arms felt right. You know that no matter how complicated this is for you both, this is exactly where you want to be.

With him.

In his arms.

You tilted your head back, meeting his eyes again, and for a moment, the world stood still. 

“Take me, Aaron…” you said in a whisper, blood rushing through your cheeks. “I want you to be my first.”

His body stiffened with what he heard. 

“What? No, no. I can’t do that.”

“Why?” You leaned in slowly, testing the waters. 

It started slow, gentle, tasting Aaron’s hesitance from your insistence.

When he didn’t show any sign of resistance, you carefully closed the distance, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. Which Aaron didn’t respond at first…

Until he did.

“I ca—” He broke the kiss, shaking his head. “I can’t do this. Not— no.”

You cupped his cheeks with both your hands. “I want this, Aaron.”

“Do you even know what you’re asking me to do?”

“Yes,” you cut him off by chasing his lips again, staring up at him. “Please, Aaron? I want you to fuck me.”

You stared back at him with the same intensity.

Aaron let out a deep sigh as he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His big hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as he guided you to the bed. 

Both of you broke apart for a moment, breathing heavily. And when he looked down at you, a mixture of adoration and concern flickered in his eyes.

“Are you sure about this, baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded quickly, your grip tightening on his arm. “I’ve never been more sure about anything, Aaron.”

Aaron’s lips trailed down your neck, inhaling your scent as he left a soft trail of light kisses. “You smell so good, angel. God, I don’t want to hurt you.”

He was murmuring against your skin. With his hot breath fanning on your neck, you felt like you were on fire. Every touch sent tingles through your already wet core. You tugged at his shirt, eager to feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

“Off, Aaron, please…” you pleaded softly.

And so he obliged, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You ran your hands over his chest, marveling at the hard planes of muscle beneath your fingertips. Your cunt clenched at the mere sight of dark hair trailing his stomach down to the fabric of his shorts.

“Tell me if you want to stop, alright?” He murmured breathlessly.

“I’m yours, Aaron. I don’t want to stop.”

“My sweet girl...” He sighed softly, placing a soft kiss on your collarbone. “Promise me.”

You buck your hips to get some friction on your neglected cunt.

“Alright, okay, I promise. Just please do something…”

Aaron’s hands expertly moved to the hem of your tank top, his eyes seeking permission. You nodded again, and he lifted it over your head, revealing your bare skin. His lips found yours in no time, hungrier and so much messier, as he explored your body.

His calloused and rough hands cupped your tits, rubbing your taut nipples with the pad of his palm.

“Aaron,” you whispered, your voice breathless. “I need you. Feel so hot.”

“I know, baby. But we need to slow down.”

He shed the rest of your clothes deftly. His touch was gentle yet insistent, his hands exploring the softness of your skin like a map. And you felt like drowning in him, his kisses, his touch, your desire to be taken.

Your breath hitched as you felt his hand traveling down your thighs.

“Do you touch yourself, angel?” He asked softly.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Yes, yes. Just my fingers.”

“You do?” He seemed interested, perking his eyebrows teasingly. “And what do you think about while doing that?”

You arched your back as you sucked in a breath, feeling his finger rubbing the sensitive nub of your drenched pussy. Fuck, why is he teasing you?

“You, Aaron… wanted you…”

Your jaw almost dropped as Aaron entered two of his fingers in his mouth, wetting them profusely as his eyes lingered on yours. Right after, he settled himself in between your thighs, while you blushed hard and fought the urge to hide your wetness from his hungry eyes.

“It might hurt a little, sweetling,” He said quietly. “Be a good girl and relax for me, alright?”

You nodded quickly, your cunt clenching in anticipation. Just a few moment, you felt Aaron’s middle finger prodding your entrance, his eyes focused on you— searching for any sign of discomfort and that he needs to stop.

Instead, you gave him a nod.

He dipped his head in between your legs, his hot breath directed at your clenching pussy. He gave your cunt a few teasing licks, nibbling on your clit before running the pad of his tongue on your wet entrance. All the while, his finger found a rhythm that felt both new and familiar to you. 

You bite down on your hand, muffling the moans threatening to escape your lips. And once you started getting accustomed to his finger and his tongue assaulting your cunt, he prodded the other finger, while his thumb rubbed gentle circles on your aching clit.

“Aaron… oh god…” You shut your eyes tightly, your legs trembling. “Feels so goo- oh! Oh my god!”

A smile appeared on his lips as he glanced up at you, his voice rough as his fingers continued abusing the spongy spot inside. “Right there, angel? That’s it?”

“Yes, yes, ye– oh my god, Aaron!”

“Shh…” He chuckled quietly, “You’ll wake your father, baby. You have to be quiet for me, alright?”

You nodded frantically even though you didn’t fully understand what he was saying. The lewd sound of your pussy squelching echoed in the silence of your room, accompanied by your quiet whimpers and Aaron’s heavy breathing.

“There you go. Good girl, angel. Good girl…” He whispered encouragingly, diving back again on your pussy. “Come for me, sweet girl. Be good for me.”

“Good?” He asked hoarsely, making you nod as you catch your breath. “Do you still want to do this?”

The world crumbled as your orgasm racked your body. Your legs trembled, your back arched, your lips hung open into a silent scream. But Aaron didn’t stop, his fingers pummeling in and out of your wet cunt until you whimpered and held his wrist, stopping him fully.

“I do, yes. Inside… I want you inside me, Aaron.”

He sighed softly before finally taking off his shorts. Your eyes followed the slow movements of his hands, alternating your gaze from the the plain of his veiny arms to his face.

Once off, he wrapped his big hand around his hard and leaking cock, pumping it slowly, then rubbing his thumb at the tip. You heard him hiss at the contact. He was big; both in girth and length. And for the first time that night, you felt unsure for a moment.

Aaron gave you a reassuring smile.

“Would it fit?”

“I’ll be gentle, sweet girl,” He chuckled hoarsely at your question, taking his place in between your legs again. “Spit on my hand, darling.”

“W-why?” You blushed, confused by the request.

“Alright, I’ll do it then.”

You bit your lip as you felt the tip of his cock on your entrance. Aaron knelt between your legs, and you watched how he spat on your desperate pussy. Just after that, he rubbed the tip up and down your cunt, spreading his saliva messily on your pulsing core.

“It will hurt, baby. I need you to relax.”

You nodded unsurely, your eyebrows tugging to a frown. “I’ll try, Aaron– oh, ouch!”

Aaron held you close, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your hips. Your room was filled with whispered words and soft moans.

“That’s it, angel… just relax for me… Good girl, look at that.”

“Ouch–” You whimpered quietly, gripping his arm for support. “It… it hurts. Aaron—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered sympathetically, peppering your cheeks with soft kisses. “You’re doing great for me, angel.”

You hummed shakily as you let him bury himself deeper, feeling more of his pulsating cock deep down your cunt. Aaron propped himself above you, scanning your face with obvious worry. His hand was gentle as he caressed your cheek, brushing the strands of hair away from your sweaty face.

“You look so beautiful, baby…” He gave you a sweet smile before placing a featherlight kiss on your forehead, then the tip of your nose, down to your lips.

You keened at his softness. “You can move now, d-daddy. Please... I can take it…”

“Of course you can, sweetling. Daddy just wants to be careful.”