Stupid Cupid 🧸

Now that you were back, you just had to avoid him which was going to be easy enough as the school is huge and it’s just the two of you (all the kids are on a field trip), so you should be able to sense him coming.

And speaking of: the sound of heavy footsteps precede him down the hall, probably with the same goal in mind that you had.

Refusing to turn, you rummage in the drawer for the bottle opener, sensing his presence enter the room and pausing. There’s a soft grunt, then he steps up behind you and reach past, grabbing the beer from where you’d put it on the counter.

You’re about to object when he opens it but at least he has the decency to hand it back to you as you turn to tell him off for stealing your drink.

“Thank you,” you mumble lamely.

“Welcome.”

Gods, you love his voice. The gruffness of it that somehow pushes all the right buttons, making you ache for him. If only...but no.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he opens the fridge, taking a beer for himself, and you wonder what he’s thinking. Sure, he’s grumpy as usual it seems like...but at the same time he always does these little things for you. You’ve once promised never to peek into his mind. Surely, though, one little glimpse would only help.

Taking a sip from the bottle as you lean against the counter, you close your eyes and let your mind unfurl.

Naked bodies. A woman barely resting on the counter’s edge with her legs wrapped around the hips of a man as he thrusts into her. You and Logan. Your nails scoring his back but leaving no evidence as you are brought o orgasm.

You damn near choke on the swig of beer, coughing loudly. He’s at your side immediately, hot hands on your shoulder and soothing your back.

“Don’t drown yourself,” he rumbles. Fuck, I’d drown in your pussy if you’d let me.

His thought is clear in you mind, making your head snap up to catch his gaze through a sheen a tears from your near-death experience.

She knows. He opens his mouth as if to say the words but then realizes that it’s not needed. You see how he pulls back, jaw clenching and brows furrowing – and you panic, projecting an image of the two of you into his mind.

You’re on a bed, knees and hands sinking into the mattress and head thrown back with the mouth open in a sinful moan. Large hands hold your hips still, angling you just right as Logan rams into you from behind.

The real Logan shakes his head. “Now you’re not playing fair.”

“Been holding on to that idea for a long time...seemed it was now or never,” you confess.

The kitchen falls silent, only the ticking of a clock on the wall can the buzzing of electricity fills the space until Logan places his bottle on the counter behind you. Then he takes yours, doing the same.

“This is the moment you stop me,” he murmurs, eyes finally locking with yours.

Of course you shake your head and suddenly he’s crowding you against the counter, one hand resting there next to yours and the other flat on your back to prevent you from retreating as if you would have.

The kiss is hard, claiming. Maybe he’s afraid you’ll change your mind and try to stop him, making him take as much as he can. Lips press against yours, slanted and prying your mouth open just a smidgen to allow his tongue to run across your teeth, tempting you beyond resolve to poke yours out.

For a second, you wrestle for dominance before surrendering and letting him own you like you’ve always wanted. And when a soft growl erupts from his chest, you feel your core clench around nothing with a need that makes you weak in your knees.

“Logan,” you whimper as he pulls back for breath.

It’s a plea. When you blink to focus, you can see that he knows it: a cocky smile is pulling at his mouth and his eyes have grown dark.

He moves you easily, turns you around and bends you over the counter so your breasts get smushed against the cold surface and you have to stand on your toes, the edge digging into your hips. He has a hand on the back of your neck, holding you in place as if that’d be necessary.

There’s a whisper of something cool against the back of your thigh and up, tugging slightly at the waistband of your sleep shorts before the resistance dies and the fabric slips aside, baring you. You gasp, trying to fathom that he just cut through your clothes with his claws but the outrage is dashed aside when he grabs a handful of your flesh, kneading your ass.

The other hand trails down your back, mirroring the actions until thick thumbs center themselves and part your folds.

“So damn wet for me already,” he groans.

“Need you,” you gasp, wriggling in his grasp.

There’s a soft chuckle that sends goosebumps up and down your spine. “Yeah yeah...I see.”

Ass getting massaged, you close your eyes and try to enjoy it rather than rush things. God, his hands are heavenly: big, strong, calloused in the right places. When he slides a finger along your petals, you shiver and whimper, hearing the sound of slipperiness.

Then something else follows your slit, big and blunt, making you arch your back so you can press against the sensation.

“Easy,” he growls, moving a hand to splay over your lower back and keep you in place.

Up and down, slick smearing along the entirety of his cock, the tip of it catching at your entrance repeatedly when Logan’s not using it to press against your clit.

“Please!” Your cunt is throbbing with need, juices sticky on him and your inner thighs. It’s not pretty or gentle, what you need, but primal and you just know he can deliver. “Fuck me, please, Logan!”

He doesn’t answer with words, but presses into you slowly. The stretch is almost too much, having you whine at the intrusion because he’s so big and you haven’t had anything for far too long except a flimsy toy and your own fingers.

“That what you need, huh?” he purrs, leaning over you as he bottoms out.

You nod frantically. “Yes!”

Cunt clenches around his girth, trying to hold him there as he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in. One hand on your neck, the other grabbing your thigh to pull you into just the right angle for him to hit your spot, making you cry out.

He focuses on that, bullying the head of his cock into the spongy place that has you trembling and crying in no time, being wound so hard that you don’t understand why you haven’t passed out yet. You’ll be cumming embarrassingly fast like this. And you don’t give a shit.

Even as he let’s go of your neck, you stay prone for him. Your body is on fire – you’re at his mercy – you can’t breathe – all of your muscles are tensed. Then his finger lands on your swollen clit, pressing down hard in a tight circle that has you falling over the edge with a broken sob. A wave of bliss rolls through you, blocking out your hearing and vision.

Logan. Logan. Logan.

Your mind instinctively reaches out for him and suddenly you feel what he feels too: a tightness that surges through his – and your – body as he cums with a curse. He rocks into you, slow and without any sense of rhythm as he empties himself in you.

It nearly makes you pass out if it wasn’t for the one realization in his mind that shocks you into focusing:

Love her.

He sags over you, lips finding every inch of skin he can reach as your pull back your mind to the safety of yourself. Kisses dab at the dew of sweat on your shoulders and neck.

“Should’ve taken you to dinner first,” Logan mumbles against your skin.

Not much thought comes into it, not used to wearing them if not in the comfort of your home late at night but simply a necessity now. You don't not use them for thinking that they look bad, but because they used to bother you more than help you and now you've simply gotten used to the contacts.

Once you arrive at the bullpen, you're only five minutes late and don't seem to be the last one arriving. You let that be a victory.

With your morning drink close by, you finally start working on the mountain of files pilling up at your desk.

"Good morning." You're only half an hour in when the familiar voice sounds behind you, steps sounding closer as Aaron comes to stand beside your chair.

"Hey." You greet back, leaning your head to look up at him.

"I don't mean to put even more in your plate but i really need you to fill these out." It's only now that he looks away from the papers and at you, eyes widening for one second in surprise.

You try to ignore it, though it settles something in you. It's a strict rule that have to act professional around each other at work — all an atempt to not have Strauss ripping your heads off.

"No problem." You take the files from his hands with a polite smile, setting them in front of you to start working on them.

Aaron lingers on his spot, clearing his throat. "You're wearing glasses."

“I am.” You state carefully, not sure where he’s getting at. Though you find yourself shifting on your seat a little subconsciously.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so dumbfounded.

“Since when?” His eyebrows are furrowed as if wondering if he’s missed this trait, sweet Aaron.

“Always?” You say with confusion, “I just usually wear contacts. Was a bit late today and forgot them.”

Your boyfriend nods at your explanation, eyes still fixated on you with concentration as you feel your skin grow hot under his gaze.

“You look good.” His words are gentle as he speaks after a moment.

His hand comes to tug a little on his tie — something you’ve noticed he does when nervous. It’s hard to believe you’d be the one to make him nervous.

“Thank you.” You answer just as soft, a little like a question.

It didn’t cross your mind that he’d never seen you with your glasses when you put them on earlier. But you suppose his reaction makes up for it.

Aaron’s lips pull into a small, “Anytime, honey.” Even lower than before. And then he’s walking back into his office like he didn’t leave you melting.

You almost forget about it as you distract yourself with work, getting up from your chair once you’re done and knocking on the door to Hotch’s office.

Once you’re given the green light to come in, you slip inside and close the door behind you before heading to his desk.

“Here you go.” You leave the files on it, moving to get back outside.

But before you can reach the door, you feel his hand catch your wrist. A gasp leaves your lips as he turns you around and presses his own to them in a hard kiss.

Aaron’s hand are on your face as he kisses you, a sight escaping his nose as he gets the first taste of you in the day. Instinctively your hands come to rest on his arm, fingers slightly gripping his button up.

He tastes of coffee with a mix of the mints he always has while working. The bump of his nose against the rim of your glasses has him pulling you closer, one hand moving to your waist to help with doing so.

You let your own hand wonder to his shoulder, feeling the muscles relax under your fingers as you softly massage them.

“You’re driving me crazy, sweet girl.” He mumbles after pulling way, lips still dangerously close to yours.

“What?” You giggle with curiosity.

To prove his point, you feel his fingers tap the rim of your glasses with care. “These are the reason.”

Your heart thumps furiously, shy grin on your lips as you keep him close. “You like them?”

“Love them.” Aaron corrects with an arm tightening around your waist, eyes set on every detail of your face.

“Not too nerdy?” You muse, mostly teasing compliments out of him.

“Just enough.” He reassures nevertheless, lips to your cheek for a sweet peck. “So pretty.”

You squeeze his elbow in return, not surprised when his lips chase you for another kiss. Not that you can complain, relished by the attention.

This one is softer, as if he knows you should get back soon and not wanting to get himself worked up.

“Wear them to our date tonight.” He practically begs, lips shiny from you.

“Pervert.” Your joke earns a grin from him.

“Can’t help it when it comes to you.” Aaron says with honesty. His grip loosens, mouth pressed to your temple.

“Pervert and corny. Wow, Hotchner.” You snort, hitting his chest with your pointer finger.

He catches it with ease, bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss there before reaching to adjust your slightly crooked glasses. “There.”