keeper of the old moon📜

While attempting to hold a conversation with Rossi about the evolution of forensic science over the last decade, a beautiful woman who looks suspiciously like his girlfriend appears in his periphery. 

Dave has only had a respectable two glasses of Scotch, so he notices that the genius has tuned him out almost immediately. 

“Looks like your keeper is here.” Dave cheekily teases. 

With his head in his palm, Spencer says dreamily, “Yeah, the keeper of my heart.”

Spencer was banished to the aisle seat of the booth after clambering over Emily to go to the bathroom for the third time in thirty minutes. The second she’s within his arm's reach, he grabs her waist and tugs her toward him, resting his chin on her stomach. He looks up at her adoringly, his eyes rounded and sparkling, as she laughs. “You’re here!” he exclaims, beaming.

Tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear, she giggles, “I am!”

“I was trying to text you.” He pouts.

“It’s okay, Hotch told me you were ready to be picked up?”

He doesn’t remember telling Hotch that; how did he know? As he ponders what his girlfriend said, Penelope squeals her name from the corner of the booth.

As the women converse about… well, Spencer doesn’t know, because he’s too distracted by the feeling of her body under his palms.

At first, his thumbs rest in her belt loops, and his slender fingers span down the curve of her ass. 

As she continues talking with his coworkers, his hands sink down her hips and to the curve of her ass. His fingers just barely brush her back pocket when she reaches behind her to grab his wrists, halting his movement, and lifts it back up to her waist.

He whines as she stops his movement and juts his lower lip into a pout. His desperate expression only gets more pathetic when she glares down at him. 

After a few minutes, once she’s invested in her conversation again, he tries a new method. Placing a hand on the back of her leg, he slowly drags it up to the crease where ass meets thigh. 

He internally cheers when she doesn’t stop him this time. Getting bolder, he slides his palm over to the inside of her thigh, gently squeezing the plushness. If he just slightly stretches his fingers, he can brush them against her–

“Okay! Time to take this one home before he falls asleep on me.”

That pushed her too far. He groans in denial, grumbling, “I’m not sleepy.”

“Mhm,” she hums as she pulls his arms to lift him from his seat.

He collapses against her body with the majority of his weight, and she groans as she tries to hold him up, “Spence, baby, I need you to help me.”

His head perks up like she’s said a magic word. She needs him to help her? Okay! With what? Right now? How can I help? It’s like she’s sounded the bell, and he’s one of Pavlov’s dogs.

They wave their goodbyes to the rest of the BAU. On the way out the door, he’s scuffling his feet and tripping every few steps – getting him into the cab should’ve counted as a workout. 

He only gets more handsy in the back of the taxi. Straining on the seatbelt to pepper kisses down her jaw and neck. Fingers trailing higher and higher up her thigh. 

Spencer really doesn’t drink often, and is rarely this bold in public, so she looks over to ask him, “You okay, honey?”

A flush paints his cheeks and fades down to his collar, partially due to the alcohol he’s ingested tonight and mostly due to her. “Mm, I like it when you call me honey.”

She lightly giggles at him, “I know you do, honey…” Grabbing his hand that’s getting dangerously close to between her legs, she intertwines their fingers. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh! Well, I do have a little problem…” He moves her hand to guide it over the bulge in his pants. 

Side-eyeing the driver, she leans close to his ear, “That is not a little problem, and you know it,” as she gently squeezes. 

He whines at her touch and tilts his hips forward. The driver looks back at them through the rear-view mirror with furrowed brows. She gives him a polite smile as if her palm isn’t pressing on her boyfriend’s semi in the man’s backseat. 

Spencer continues to try to touch her and have her touch him throughout the remainder of the car ride. Her promises to take care of him once they get home fall on deaf ears. The only thing on his mind is her, her, her, her, her. 

He eventually huffs and leans back in the seat with his arms crossed, pouting. She’s torturing him. It’s not fair. 

He’s vibrating with excitement as she pushes their front door open, finally. The second they’ve crossed the threshold, he’s grabbing her face and pulling her into a frantic and messy kiss. She gasps into his mouth, and he smirks against hers.

With one hand on the base of her neck, he skims down her back and waist with the other until he reaches her ass, unapologetically squeezing her. He pulls her flush with his body, lightly moaning when his aching cock presses against her hip.

He needs her.

She tries to retreat from the kiss, but he follows her fleeing lips until she rests her palms on his shoulders, gently pushing him back. “Spence, we shouldn’t.”

With hands sadly falling to his sides, he frowns, “What? Why not?”

“You’re drunk, it’s not right. I’ll feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

He tries to lean in to kiss her again, to convince her that he wants this, needs this. Her grip on him only tightens, causing him to emit a protestful whine.

“Please, baby. I want you. Please?” He shamelessly begs.

“I don’t know, honey…” She bites her lip as she trails off. Is she trying to kill him?

“Please? I consent. You won’t be taking advantage of me.”

Her head tilts as she gazes into his pleading eyes, “What if you regret it in the morning?”

His brows furrow in confusion. “I could never regret you. You’re the love of my life.” He rebuts, like it’s obvious. It should be, he thinks. Has he not made his devotion to her evident enough? Should he show her the ring in his–

“Okay.” She concedes. “But I’m only gonna do this,” She slides her hands down his chest to tug at his belt. 

He groans theatrically. He really should take what he can get, but he wants way more than just her hand, albeit beautiful, wrapped around him.

Halting her fiddling with his pants, she asks, “Do you not want me to?”

“No– I mean, yes– I mean, no, I want more.” He stammers, shaking his head.

“Do you want my mouth instead?” She offers.

He wants to bang his head against the wall. Never could he have predicted that he’d be turning down a blowjob from her.

He shakes his head, “No.”

“Spence…”

“I want you to ride me in our bed.” Her eyebrows jump at his bluntness. “Please. Could you please ride me in our bed, please?” He tenderly runs his thumbs over the backs of her hands.

She sighs, “You’re drunk.”

"I don't want you because I'm drunk. I'm drunk and I want you." He looks at her in that impossibly earnest way that melts her heart.

“Plus!” He holds up his pointer finger. “I started thinking about it before I was drunk. Now, I’m just not embarrassed to bring it up…” He trails off, the blush on his cheeks getting darker.

He continues, “And you can say no. I’ll be a little sad and will probably sulk just a tad, but no means no… That’s all.”

She takes a step closer to him, “That’s all?”

His breath catches in his throat, and he quickly bobs his head, “Mhm.”

She nods, “Okay,” and takes another step towards him.

His heart is pounding in his chest, his eyes dart back and forth across hers. Breathlessly, he asks, “Okay?”

She moves close enough to brush her nose against his, and their breaths fan each other's faces. Spencer’s still has its usual strong minty aroma with only a tinge of whiskey peeking through. The scent of her cherry lip balm lingers and makes him feel light-headed. It’s taking all of his control and strength to not just kiss her.

She whispers, “I did promise to take care of you in the car,” before finally pressing her lips against his, gentle yet firm. 

Spencer follows her lead, letting her set the pace, but his veins are thrumming with excitement and anticipation.

Once she deepens the kiss, slowly sliding her tongue against his, a desperate whine escapes him, but he still maintains his composure. Not pushing her or, rather, pulling her any closer towards him.

Gratefully for him, she moves his hands down to her hips, encouraging him to touch her. He can’t resist circling them around to her backside, squeezing and pulling her pelvis flush with his. He sighs at the relief of pressure from his throbbing dick; he’s been half-hard for her since she got to the bar to pick him up. 

As the kiss continues, she wraps her arms around his neck, threading the fingers of one hand through the back of his hair. He unabashedly moans into her mouth, and her lips turn upward into a smile.

“Bedroom?” She whispers against his lips, and he immediately nods, eager and needy.

When she separates from him, leading him with their fingers tangled, he desperately keeps his other hand on her waist, not wanting her to get too far from him. He follows her into their bedroom, kissing her neck and whispering, “Thank you,” over and over.

Once they’re in their room, she rotates to kiss him, with immediate passion and fervor. He doesn’t notice that she’s steered them to the edge of the bed until she’s pushing him with a hand on his chest, and he drops backward onto their mattress. 

As she yanks off her shirt and unbuttons her jeans, he intently watches with blown pupils. Biting his lip, he palms himself through his slacks at the vision of his girlfriend stripping for him. This is far from the first time that he’s seen her do this, but each time he witnesses it, he’s filled with gratitude and reverence. How did life lead him here? To her?

Left in just her bra and panties, she steps between his dangling legs, placing her hands on his cheeks. For the second time that night, she asks, “You okay, honey?”

He doesn’t answer. As he grabs her hips and pulls her on top of him, he falls on his back against their mattress. She giggles as they tumble, and the sound makes his heart sing a matching harmony. God, he loves her so much.

Their lips met again in a hungry kiss. As they retrace each other’s mouths, Spencer slides his hands up her back to skillfully unclasp her bra. It gets tossed to the floor, and he kneads and squeezes her breasts, swiping his thumbs over her nipples. 

She lightly moans against him and grinds her hips down against his bulge. His head tilts back, and he grumbles a low, “Fuck.”

She bites her lower lip, concealing her entertained smile produced by his cursing. Drunk Spencer really has no filter. 

Placing her hands on his chest, she continues circling her hips against him, and his palms tighten on her waist. 

He inches his fingers across her thigh to the hem of her underwear, slipping under them until he’s met with her soaked folds. 

As his fingers slide and caress her, she leans back to grant him better access, stabilizing herself with her hands on his knees.

“Baby,” she whines, tilting her hips upward in an attempt to show him where she needs him.

“I know, baby, I know.” He gruffs, frustrated with the constraint of her panties.

In a split-second decision, he tells her, “I’ll buy you new ones,” and before she can ask what he’s talking about, he’s tearing the lace. She looks down with a gasp at her now shredded panties.

“Oh my–” She cuts herself off with a moan; he’s sliding a finger in her entrance before she can fully process or say anything about what just happened.

He continues fingering her, eyes locked on the rapid rising and falling of her chest. Her head is tilted back, exposing her neck, and he wishes he could reach up to lick and kiss her there. She looks so beautiful and glorious like this.

One finger becomes two, and they can hear the wet squelching noise of her pussy with each thrust. As he curls his fingers upward, her arms get shaky from the pleasure.

“Fuck me, Spence…” She groans.

His lips twitch, “That’s the plan, baby.” 

She rolls her eyes in mock annoyance, huffing out an amused laugh. A deep tension blooms in her belly as he continues his ministrations.

When he reaches his thumb up to her clit to rub smooth, slow circles, her thighs tremble against his hips.

She leans forward and grabs his wrist, “Fuck– Okay– I need you,” halting his movements.

Leaning down to kiss him, she unbuttons his pants and shimmies them down just enough to free his red, leaking, aching cock. 

He groans as she wraps her soft hands around him, thrusting upward into her grip, “Mm, baby, please.”

After smearing his pre-cum over the head, she holds her hair back with the other hand and lets a string of spit drip onto him. His mouth falls open as she does this, eyes tracking the descent until it meets his dick. He’s so sensitive and desperate and enthralled that the slide of her saliva down his shaft has him moaning and whimpering. 

Tossing the scrap of fabric that has become her panties onto the floor, she guides his tip to her entrance and slowly sinks down. They moan in tandem at the slick stretch. 

Stabilizing herself with hands on his chest, she drops down until he’s buried deep inside of her, brows furrowed, and neck tilted back. 

She then realizes something entirely stupid: he’s still wearing his tie and button-up. She groans and yanks on the fabric around his neck, throwing it, before making quick work on the buttons of his shirt, “Why are you even still wearing this?”

He can barely respond, his dick is finally where it’s meant to be, and she’s too frustrated with the barrier of his shirt to actually fuck him. He’s dizzy from the alcohol and the sensation of her tight, wet walls wrapped around him. He doesn’t know which variable is most responsible for making him feel this way anymore.

“You could’ve taken it off whenever you wanted,” he manages to gripe.

After unbuttoning just enough of his shirt to get her hands on his bare chest, she finally slowly rises and falls on his dick. His hands grip her hips, fingers pressing firmly into her ass. With a slack jaw, he groans, “Fuck– Yes– Thank you, baby.”

He continues babbling as she finds a steady rhythm, “Thank you so much, I love you so much, oh my God.”

His head rolls back and forth against the bed as she rides him into the mattress, broken moans and whimpers and whines escaping both of them with each plunge. Spencer soon guiltily realizes that he’s not helping her at all, so he assists in the movement of her hips with his hands and thrusts upward to match her pace.

Her nails scrape down his chest as the heat in her belly catches fire again. He hisses at the scratches, but he loves it when she does this, loves when the sharp pain blends with the intense pleasure. 

“Shit– Baby– Not gonna last long–” He moans.

“Mm, ‘m close,” She agrees, moving a hand between her legs to sloppily rub her clit. He can feel the pulsing of her tight heat as her orgasm crests, and he’s clenching his jaw and hands to stop himself from cumming before she does. Even in his drunken state, her pleasure prioritizes his own. 

“Fuck– Fuck– Fuck–” she chants and cries as everything starts to feel like too much. Her release coincides with a long, drawn-out, “Spencer…” and her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Falling against his chest, panting, she continues a slow roll of her hips as he bursts inside of her with a raspy groan.

His body twitches and shivers as he cums, fingers slowly unlocking their tight grip on her waist. She won’t be surprised nor perturbed to find the shape of his fingerprints embedded in the skin there later.

His arms wrap around her back as his orgasm descends, caressing her warm skin. Burying his nose in her hair, he mumbles, “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”

She lightly laughs in agreement, pressing a sweet kiss to his collarbone.

They lay as a panting tangle of limbs until she hears his breathing even out, and she glances up to see his eyes closed, “Spence?” She croons.

He doesn’t respond.

“Honey?” She chuckles.

Still nothing. If she couldn’t feel his breathing against her skin, she’d be worried.

She gently shakes his shoulder, and he inhales sharply, “Mm?”

“Did you seriously fall asleep? You’re still inside of me!” She feels his dick twitch ever so slightly against her walls.

“No, ‘m not asleep.” His voice is rough and croaky.

“Mhm,” She indulges his blatant fib.

They both wince as she rises off of him. He feels cold without her warm heat wrapped around him, and she feels empty. She slides off the bed, grimacing slightly at the stiffness in her hips. 

He’s quite the vision lying like this: hair a frizzy mess, a pink tinge to his cheeks, shirt halfway unbuttoned, softening cock peeking out of his pants. The floor only adds to the scenery, clothes scattered about like the frame on a piece of art – Spencer, of course, being the art. She catches a glimpse of her torn underwear (she honestly forgot about it until she laid eyes on it) and shakes her head in amusement.

After slipping on a new pair of underwear and changing into one of his old tee-shirts, the hem falling to her mid-thigh, she gathers pajamas for him. He peeks his eyes open as she unbuttons the rest of his shirt, murmuring, “You’re so beautiful,” when he sees her in his clothes.

“Thank you, honey,” she grabs his hands, “Can you sit up for me?”

He groans, but lets her pull him upright. Slumping against her body like a rag doll, he wraps his arms around her waist.

She manages to maneuver him limb by limb until he’s changed into his sleep clothes. While they’re in the bathroom, lazily brushing their teeth, he whines about going to bed without a shower after being in the sticky bar. She placates his concerns by promising to shower together in the morning – his favorite.

After he’s between the sheets with a glass of water within reach, she finds his phone and plugs it in for him. The screen turns on as the charger connects, and their text thread is displayed. She sees his barely legible attempt at messaging her and smiles, shaking her head fondly at how much he loves her. Warmth grows in her chest as she glances between the i lov nd mis u text and her boyfriend snoring softly into his pillow.

Leaning down to kiss his forehead, she whispers, “Goodnight, honey,” against his soft skin.

His long fingers that were splayed across your stomach softened, the tender caress of his thumbs coming to a stop, “Hey,” he whispered, pulling his head back a bit to look at your flushed face, “that’s perfectly fine,” he gave you a small, reassuring smile that reached his hazel eyes that looked at you in awe.  

When you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything back, he spoke again in an even softer tone, “We don’t have to go any further, okay?” his hand moved from your stomach to cradle your jaw, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead. 

Your hands came up to desperately grasp his biceps as you let out a deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “I don’t wanna stop,” the confession small but unwavering as you shook your head, “I’m just.. I don’t know what to do, Spencer” you admitted, your brows drawing with vulnerability as you searched his eyes.

Spencer could never be disappointed with you and you were very aware of that, but the intimidation that came with exposing your inexperience to someone you looked up to was far too strong to deem nonexistent. 

His thumb smoothly brushed your cheekbone, “You don’t have to do anything..” he slowly connected his lips with the corner of your mouth, “I’ll take care of you,” his soft lips brushed against your closed ones, promising absolute patience, “We’ll do whatever feels right. There’s no rush at all.” 

“Okay,” you breathed out the words against his mouth, letting your mouth part to move with his own. 

His lips sandwiched your bottom lip, slowly sucking it as his hands explored your body, making their way from your arms, touching the shivering skin full of goosebumps down to your sides, giving them a gentle, encouraging squeeze and dragging a quiet, suppressed moan from your throat. 

His slow, deep kiss relaxed the coiled tension in your stomach, making your legs naturally part further, letting his body settle more comfortably between your thighs. 

His lips moved down your jaw, making you tip your head backwards, giving him more access until he reached your earlobe, giving it a barely-there bite that made you groan. 

He then kissed the sensitive skin behind your ear, making you whisper his name and prop your legs on either side of his hips.

The clear sound of your satisfaction made him smile against your skin, sucking on the same spot just to hear the pretty noises coming out of your mouth. 

He slightly pulled away to press his forehead onto yours, “Is it okay if we take this off?” his fingers gently traced the white strap of your bra, his head tilting to the side in question. 

“Please,” the word sounded more like a whimper, but Spencer felt too nice to tease. 

You slightly arched your back so he could reach to your back, unclasp your bra, and pull it off your body. 

He neatly placed your bra on the edge of the bed without peeling his eyes off your now bare breasts.

He licked a slow, burning path down your throat until he was right above the skin that had just been exposed. His tongue swiped slowly against your warm skin leaving wet marks against your flushed chest, pressing reverent, open-mouthed kisses across your aching breasts, “You’re so perfect..” those words vibrated against your skin as he got closer to your right peak, swirling his tongue around it before repeating, “God..you’re so so perfect,” although you saw him as the expert, he seemed deeply affected by you, as if he were in the presence of something sacred. 

You could feel his skin getting warmer and damper by the second, sticking to you as he wrapped his swollen lips around your nipple. 

The sensation was completely new and foreign—something you thought was simply Spencer’s effect on you, “Oh my god,” you gasped. 

He grazed his teeth around your hard nipple, sucking gently before adding more pressure, “How does that feel?” he panted, lifting his head to see the look of pleasure on your face. 

“So good,” you breathed out, “so fucking good,” your fingers carded through his hair before finally tugging on it, making him moan against your breast. 

Your other boob was not neglected at all, Spencer made sure you were feeling good in all the right ways, kneading your other breast and occasionally rolling your sensitive nipple between his thumb and index finger, squeezing it to pull more sounds out of you to hear them through your ribs. 

He then switched between his tongue and hand, giving you more of each sensation and using more pressure as felt you melt underneath him, becoming more needy. 

“Is there anything you don’t want to happen right now? It’s entirely up to you, just tell me and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for actual sex right now,” you hesitated, “Everything feels so good.. and I want us to go further, but can we not do that tonight?” the anxiety peaked again as you spoke, even though you were met with an understanding look from Spencer as he listened to you. 

“Of course,” he murmured, kissing right above your heart, feeling it thumping against your ribs, “all I want is for you to feel good. And is there anything specific you would like to try?”

“I want you to touch me,” you brushed the few, damp strands that stuck to his forehead.

The corners of his mouth slightly curved up, “Touch you where?” 

“You know where,” you pouted, slightly tilting your head to the side.

“I don’t,” he lied with a teasing smile, “you’re gonna have to be more specific,” he kissed the warm-skinned dip between your breasts. 

“Spencer,”

“Come on, use your words.” his long fingers trailed down your stomach, going lightly along the edge of your cotton panties, hooking the elastic against his fingertips. 

You let out a weak whine, your hips instinctively tilting upward, chasing the warmth of his hand.

“I need you to finger me,” you choked out, the urgency in your words caught them both off guard, but Spencer let out a pleased hum, “Good girl,” 

His fingers slipped beneath the elastic, his thumb slowly finding its way to your clit, not touching the rest of your pussy just yet. He captured your lips in an affectionate, slow kiss, providing you more comfort, the connection calming the rapid shivers moving through your body at his touch. 

The soft pad of his finger pressed against your clit before slowly moving it in tight, firm circles, making your eyebrows twitch as you whimpered into his mouth. 

He smiled against your lips, the noise meant that he was making you feel good, that his desperate need to please you was being met. 

He gave you a few moments to absorb the feeling of his skin against your most sensitive spot before he introduced the second sensation. His slender middle finger dipped lower, stroking your folds and parting them slightly, “Can I see you?” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

You didn’t use your words this time, quickly hooking your fingers into the waistband of the cotton fabric and pushing them down your hips with ease.

Spencer brushed against your hand, silently asking you to let him do it. He lowered himself to pull your panties down and off your ankles. 

When your panties were fully off, Spencer’s gaze was fixated between your thighs, unable to look away, but he felt the nervous energy start to seep back into your face, so he kissed your lower stomach right above where his hand had been, “You’re so.. so beautiful,” 

He shifted his weight, sitting back on his heels at the edge of the bed, admiring every inch of your bare flushed body laying before him. 

He returned his thumb to the bundle of nerves above your slit and his middle finger down your wet slit, “so wet,” he whispered against your thigh, giving it a slow kiss to ease the tension of its muscles. 

He slowly pushed a part of his finger into your tight entrance, feeling you tense around him as you whined and reached down to him, “Spencer, please,” 

“I’m right here,” he peppered kisses on your inner thighs, “just let me know when you’re ready for more,” 

Your chest heaved, the air surrounding you starting to feel cold against your glistening skin, the wetness cooling your feverish skin, “I’m ready,” 

He pushed his finger deeper into you, starting with a few slow pumps that made your hips helplessly twitch against his hand before increasing the pace and depth, “you’re doing so well, baby,” his words were met with a desperate whimper from your widely parted lips. 

“Do you want a second finger?” he asked, his tone dripping sweetly.

“God, yes,” you moaned, already overwhelmed by the single digit moving in and out of you. 

When his soaked middle finger was out of you, he paired it next to his index finger before pushing them fully in together, sending a rush down your spine, and ripping a loud moan out of your throat.

“You’re okay,” he removed his thumb from your clit, moving the job of stimulating that bundle of nerves to his mouth, sucking gently as he fingered you relentlessly, “you’re taking it so well, baby,” 

“I’m gonna curl my fingers, okay?” 

You frantically nodded, your composure completely shattered, “Okay,”

His fingers hooked upward, curling and reaching deep inside of you, hitting your g-spot with clear effort. 

Your thighs slightly twitched around his head, making his other hand firmly grip one of your thighs, pinning it on the soft sheets next to his shoulder.

“Spencer!” you cried out, your voice cracking as your hips bucked against his face, slightly away from his fingers that were moving in and out of you faster now, continuously curling with every thrust. 

“I’ve got you,” the intense suction of his mouth on your clit was driving you to the brink of insanity.

“Oh my god, I think I’m gonna come-” the knot in the pit of your stomach was getting too tight and heavy to handle, overwhelming you with bursting fullness.

“I know, baby,” he pressed his palm against your lower stomach, splaying his finger across your sweaty skin, “just let go,” he added more force on your lower stomach, feeling some of the inner movement with every measured pump of his fingers. 

Those last words vibrating against your swelling clit were enough to push you over the edge. 

You let out a loud moan, your fingers now pulling his hair as the intense blinding orgasm ripped through your entire body, making your head sink deeper into the pillow supporting your neck.

A hot rush of fluid erupted from you, gushing against Spencer’s hand and face, soaking the mattress beneath you, but his fingers continued their intense efforts inside of you. 

His fingers were riding out the violent spasms of your walls that clamped down around him, making you squirt onto his face again, and bringing your shaking legs to a slow, steady stop. 

You had completely surprised yourself by squirting all over, “Shit, I’m sorry, I-” you panted.

His fingers finally stopped moving as they stilled inside of your sensitive inner walls, “No, baby, you did so well,” he breathed out, slowly licking your lower stomach, “I’m so proud of you,” he slowly withdrew his soaking fingers, licking them thoroughly before sucking them clean. 

He moved his face up to yours, “Are you okay?” he kissed your damp forehead.

You nodded tiredly, completely worn out and sleepy, “yeah, that was.. that was very intense,” 

“I hope you liked it?” he stared into your eyes, waiting for an answer. 

You lazily traced his cheekbones, moving your shaky finger to his eyebrows, brushing along each one, “I loved it. I’m so lucky I got to do this with you,” 

“I’m so lucky I got to be your first. Seriously, thank you for trusting me,” the smile he always gave you was now back on his peaceful face. 

“Of course, Spence,” you returned the smile, tracing his nose with your still trembling finger, but now the trembling was out of tiredness rather than intensity. 

“Let me clean you up,” he quickly pecked your swollen lips before rolling off the bed and into his bathroom, coming out a few seconds later with a damp washcloth. 

He settled between your legs, parting them hesitantly—purely because he didn’t want to overwhelm your worn out body, knowing that you were still sensitive. 

He gently wiped your thighs, his eyes lingering on every inch as he went over the delicate skin a few times—aiming to both clean you up and relax your body, “all done,” 

He removed the warm cloth from your skin and took a few steps to sit closer to your face on the bed, “How about you get in the shower, and I’ll change the sheets before they dry, hm?” he asked, stroking your hair with a touch so gentle, it made your eyes need to flutter shut. 

it was the first time since the pair of you started dating that he'd had to go away, and whilst you missed him greatly, you hadn't expected him to miss you so much.

it started small, with texts.

I saw a dianthus plumarius today.

what's that?

oh sorry, garden pinks. they

made me think of you. :-)

well thats very sweet, dr reid :)

he'd message you things like this almost daily. small trinkets he saw that reminded him of you, random facts in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep on the uncomfortable hotel mattress.

you'd found it a little odd, the sudden influx of texts. whilst spencer usually had some random anecdote or fact to tell you, it had never been so much as this week. he even scolded you over text when you replied during your work hours, despite the fact that he spent most of the case texting you underneath the table like a highschooler.

you thought that he was being clingy over text; you weren't prepared for what he'd be like when he got home.

he'd gotten home at about half ten that night, the sound of keys jangling in the lock notifying you of his arrival. perking up from the couch, you scamper over to the door, just in time to see him toe off his shoes and shrug off his coat. it was a warming sight, seeing the spaces that had felt so empty for so long (a week) be refilled.

he notices you then, head tilting towards you like a curious puppy. despite the tiredness in his eyes, you see that familiar flicker of affection ignite. dragging his feet, he closes the short distance between you two, wrapping you up in his arms. "hi, honey."

his voice is so warm, so full of sleepy tenderness, and you feel butterflies fill your stomach, burying your head into his shoulder. his shoulders are tense for just a second, before they deflate with the aid of your hug.

he doesn't leave your side for the rest of the evening.

or the rest of the weekend.

saturday morning, you decide to bake for your bookclub that afternoon. he spends the entirety of it with his arms looped around your waist, head resting on your head the entire time, pressing kisses every two seconds.

when you try to move to the fridge for the eggs, spencer weighs you down. "spence- i can't move."

he flusters a little, blushing as he hesitantly removes his arms from around you. "oh. sorry." he flexes his hand, scratching the back of his neck bashfully.

he's basically a wreck when you have to leave. he's seconds away from begging you to let him come with you, but he has some dignity.

staying home, for that dreadfully long hour, is like hell. he's restless, he cant stay still for a second. he tries to watch doctor who, but he cant seem to pay attention. he tries teaching your cat to do tricks, but juno is uncooperative and he keeps getting frustrated.

so he sits on the couch, bouncing knees, and stares at the door until he sees you walk through.

sunday is a similar affair. you both decide to stay in, and spencer spends it with his head in your lap, or braiding your hair. he even goes to far as to sitting next to the tub whilst you have a bath, reading to you from whatever obscure russian novel he'd reading.

laying in bed that night, with spencer's arms wrapping around you from behind, cheek pressed against you back, you realise. you realise that spencer is just as clingy as you, just as needy for affection, he just needs an opening.

and so you grant him that opening, here and there. you lay your legs over his when sat on the couch, you link your pinky with his on walks, you borrow his sweaters without asking.

Damn it. Now you want to cry again, not tears of sadness, no– but in pure joyful emotion. You had married a man who noticed even the slightest change of your eyes or or an off breath. 

“I’m more than okay,” you manage to whisper but it comes out more like a choked out wobbly breath. “I just– the way you're looking at me. The way you looked at me. I’ve never felt so much love.”

Spencer leans down to press his forehead against yours as the elevator steadily climbed to the hotel's top floor, the warmth of him flooding your system. 

“I love you,” he whispers firmly. “With everything I am, with every breath I take. I’m so happy you’re my wife. I know you know but I need to tell you it again and again. I can’t stop saying it. I’ll always look at you like this because you’re my love. Every chamber of my heart beats in unison for you.” 

Just before you could fully burst into tears at the sweetest words you had ever heard and wash off all the makeup that you had spent hours applying this morning, the elevator beeped and opened revealing a long, elegantly styled hallway.

“Cmon, angel,” Spencer murmured softly, his breath caressing your ear. “I want to show you our honeymoon suite,” He tugs on your hand and you giggle at the way he practically drags you down the hallway like an overeager puppy, stumbling beside him. 

When you make it to the door at the end of the hallways, Spencer suddenly stops to face you. You open your mouth to speak and then—

“Whoa,” you gasp as he picks you up, his lean but strong arms sliding under your back and your knees to form the classic bridal style hold. “Baby what are you doing?” you giggle into his shoulder, filled with elation. You’re pretty sure you know what he's doing, you just want him to say it. 

Spencer smiles down at you and it feels like the warmth of ten thousand suns shining down on you, and healing every emotional wound that ever hurt you. 

“I am carrying my very beautiful bride across the threshold of our honeymoon suite, and then I am going to spend the entire night worshipping her.”

You immediately turn that familiar pretty shade of pink that Spencer loves, still not used to hearing him talk like this—even after all this time together. 

“You look impossibly pretty like this,” he smiles as his gaze traces the features on your face. “You don’t even know how much.”

Before you can respond with a doubtful quip disguised by humour, he maneuvers you in his arms so he can push the hotel room door open.

Your breath catches.

“Holy shit.”

His eyes fill with pride and you can feel his spine straightening. The room was absolutely gorgeous. The room was lit, not harshly bright, yet light enough so you could see everything. The large windows had the curtains pulled back to reveal the glistening lights of the city. In the center of the room was a king bed, draped with silk sheets and piled with fluffiest pillows you had ever seen. The sheets were covered with rose petals scattered about, and at the foot of the bed sat a basket filled with champagne and other things you couldn’t make out. 

“I called a week ago and asked them to set all this up. Penelope helped me find your wedding pinterest board and I wanted to make tonight special, especially since you planned the wedding so beautifully,” he smiles at your wide eyed expression as he puts you down from the bridal carry and kneels down to remove each one of your beautiful but painful heels that had been pinching your toes for hours. “You do so so much, and I'm not the most creatively inclined but I wanted to do this for you. I know I’m about to show you how much I love you physically but I  wanted to show you a different way too. I…I hope you like it.” 

This. This is why you married him, you thought as he removed each heel— pressing a kiss to each knee through your dress. Not for his incredible profiling skills, not for his astonishingly high iq of 187, not for his tall stature, or his beautifully sculpted face, or his brown doe eyes or his pretty pink lips or his messy brown locks but this. How much he cared. How he remembered the details, like you offhandedly mentioning your pinterest board. How he didn’t mind sleeping with a nightlight on during storms because he knew you got scared. Every single note filled with a fun fact a day left in your lunch. How he would listen to you ramble on and on about your favorite shows that other boys might laugh and call too girly, but he made a detailed chart with you on whether Jess or Logan was Rory's soulmate in Gilmore Girls. You married him for him. For the way he loved you in a way you thought was only possible in fairytales. 

“Spencer,” you breathe out shakily as his eyes lock onto yours, looking impossibly soft. “I don’t even know how to describe how I’m feeling right now. I love you. I love you so so so much. I can’t believe you asked Penelope for my pinterest board. I can’t believe you even remembered me mentioning it. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Of course I did…I love you,” he smiles gently as he tugs you closer, his hand wrapping round your waist. “I’m going to be doing things like this for you forever. It’s the least I could do. You are the most incredible girl in the entire universe,”. He smirks as he leans his forehead down to touch your own. “And that's saying a lot because the universe is actively expanding and actually the rate at which it’s expanding is accelerating which means—”

“Wait,”. He suddenly stops and takes a breath. “I’ll tell you about galactic redshift later because I’m getting too distracted by how you look in this dress,” His lips slightly turn up as his voice lowers. “And how much I want to see it on the floor.” 

You can feel your face heat up for like the ten thousandth time today and you groan, pushing a strand of hair back behind your ear.

“You can’t keep saying these things,” you pout and he quickly leans down to press a quick peck to your lips. “I can’t help blushing. I think I have a chronic blushing problem.”

He laughs as he picks you and gently sets you amongst the flower petals on the silky bedspread, putting the basket on the floor before tossing his suit jacket aside. 

“Chronic implies that it's long lasting which in this case I think is ideal,” he kisses your forehead in between words as he sits beside you on the bed. “You look too cute blushing— I don’t ever want it to go away.” 

You giggle until his lips brush yours and every other thought melts from your mind. He kisses you so gently at first, like you’re porcelain on the verge of shattering. One of his hands reaches up to cup your face, while the other one settles on your waist—contentedly drawing little circles into the fabric of your wedding dress with his thumb. You sigh against his mouth as every nerve ending in your body seems to spark to life all at once. 

At your sigh, his breath hitches and his tongue slowly slips into your mouth at the given opportunity. The hand that was against your cheek slides to cup the back of your head as he gently lowers you to lay back against the pillows. Your hair splays out, and he raises up from your lips to stare down at you adoringly. 

“My beautiful wife,” he breathes out as his eyes trace your every feature. He lowers his lips to barely brush against yours once more. “My gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

Before tears of emotion could fall from your eyes, he's kissing you again, and you can feel how much of himself he’s putting into it. He’s kissing you like your lips are what will save him from an incurable disease. Your wedding dress is twisted and flowing around the both of you, and his hands slide under you to fiddle with the delicate buttons on the back. 

He raises his head once again and smiles at you, and everything that is outside of the little bubble the two of you created disappears.

“Can I take this dress off baby?” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Yes please.”

“Your wish is my command,” he winks and you giggle, amazed at the way he can turn everything from serious and deeply intimate to funny, and yet still make the silliest of things romantic. “Sit up a little for me, angel.”

You obey him and his soft voice without question. His long fingers begin to attempt to unhook each button. Keyword… attempt. 

He huffs with a slight pout as his nimble fingers fail to get a grasp on even the first button. 

“I have an IQ of 187 and yet these buttons seem to require one even higher. Why are they so tiny? I mean they're beautiful… but Vera Wang certainly doesn't design with efficiency in mind.” 

“You should send them a letter.”

“Haha… very funny,” he pouts again as he finally manages to unhook the first one. “I have half a mind to.”

Suddenly his face brightens and his eyes get that twinkling look again.

“I have an idea,” he grins as he leans down towards the buttons. “Kisses for good luck.”

You smile and start to giggle again until you feel the press of his lips to each button through your dress. The butterflies come to life in your stomach again and begin to fly in dizzyingly fast circles. 

“There we go,” he murmurs as his lips brush each button and somehow…they unbutton as he tries his hand at it once more. “Told you. Kisses are good luck. Scientifically proven now.”

“You don’t believe in luck,” you whisper as his fingers unhook the last of the buttons.

“I do when it comes to you,” he breathes out as he gently pulls the sleeves of your dress down your arms, and lays you down to pull it off the rest of your body. 

Damn, you’re blushing again. And you don’t think it will ever go away as long as Spencer is alive to make you feel this way. 

Once the dress is all the way off, you hear Spencer's breath catch, and you look up at him shyly through your eyelashes. You were in wedding lingerie, that this morning your bridesmaids giggled and complimented as they helped you dress. The lingerie was white and lacy, delicate edges against your skin. 

“You,” he leans down to kiss you between each word. “Are..” Kiss. “So…” Kiss.” Pretty…” Another kiss. 

“Do you like it?” you murmur, stealing another kiss as he lifts his head once more. “I wanted to look pretty and special for tonight.”

“Like it?” he blinks like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. “Angel…like is too insignificant a word for how I feel about you in this. Like… is used for saying you like a drink or dessert. Like…is a widely disproportionate word for how I feel about you. I feel like love is even too small to describe it.”

He exhales and leans down to kiss the lace of the bralettes edge, murmuring sweet things that you could barely make out. 

“Hey,” you murmur as you reach for the buttons on his white dress shirt. “I can’t be the only one half naked.”

He grins as he raises his head, and now it's your turn to fumble with buttons.  

“Here,”  he whispers, as his larger hands cover your shaky ones and begin to help undo the buttons on his shirt. Once he reaches the end, he shrugs off the shirt and tosses it on the floor, not caring where it lands. 

You let out a soft breath as he lets you gaze upon his chest. He was so handsome, so pretty. He wasn’t built with bulging muscles or a wide chest. Instead, he was built especially for you. He was lean yet defined, strong without being crushing.  

You didn’t have any words so you said the only thing that really mattered. 

“I love you, Spencer Reid.”

He leans down, and right before his lips meet your own you catch the mist that begins to cloud his eyes. 

“I love you,” he murmurs as he kisses your lips and then begins trailing his own lips down your neck. 

“I love you,” he repeats again as his lips latch onto that special spot on your neck, the one he's studied thoroughly and knows it’ll make you squirm. Your hips slightly arch to meet his as he sucks and gently bites at the skin, marking you as his own. You can feel the length of him, a not so subtle hardness pressing against you. 

You let out a whiny whimper and you can feel his smile spread across his lips as he keeps kissing his way down to your lace covered breasts. 

He kisses all around the lace edge and then reaches both hands up to cup them, marveling in how they fit within his palms. 

You whine again as he gently squeezes and begins to knead them, the sensation shooting down between your legs. 

“These are so pretty,” he mutters in a low voice as he stares at them. “So perfect for me, look at how they fit in my hands.” 

“Oh…god,” you let out in a breathy little moan, the feeling and the sight of him playing with your breasts causing the damp patch on your panties to grow even damper.

“Mm-mm,” he tuts gently. “I don’t think a deity is making you feel like this right now baby.” He grins as you let out another soft little whimper. “Who’s making you feel this way right now? Cmon…you can say it.” 

“Spencer!” you cry out as he rolls his hips against yours while he continues playing with your breasts, the friction causing a delicious pleasure to flood your senses. 

“Thats it angel,” he whispers against your lips with each slow roll of his hips. “Good job… I knew you could do it.” 

The praise he lavishes you with goes straight to your core, while he simultaneously reaches around to unhook the lacy bra, this time his fingers not fumbling at all. As it falls off he stares once again for a moment, before lowering his head to attach his lips around one peak while his hand paid attention to the other breast so it wasn’t neglected. He gently sucks and laves his tongue over it causing an exorbitant amount of high pitched noises to leave your lips. 

He detaches for a moment to gaze up into your eyes. 

“Is this good, angel? Do you want me to keep going or do you want something else?”

“It's so good,” you manage to choke out as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “But can…can you use your mouth and fingers on me?” 

Of course, your cheeks pinken again and he grins. 

“Where do you want them baby?”

“You know where.”

“Uh-uh” he shakes his head, trying to hide the slight smirk that begins to form across his face. “I need you to say it. Do you think you can do that, huh? Tell me where you want my fingers and mouth. I need to know exactly.” 

“I want them…down there,” you manage to squeak out. 

He sighs as he shakes his head again.

“You’re going to have to be a lot more specific, beautiful girl,” he crawls down the length of your body. “‘Down there…,’” he leans down, his breath ghosting above your knee, “could be anywhere.”

He presses a kiss to your kneecap and then the side of it as you pout.

“Did you mean down here?”

“No…”

He grins and brushes a kiss to your inner thigh. 

“Then did you mean right here?”

“Spencer!” you whine again, looking down at him petulantly. 

“Tell me where, angel. Use your words,” he whispers looking up at you with soft eyes this time. “You can say it, it’s just me. I’m your husband. Don’t be embarrassed.”

You inhale softly, swayed by the love in his tone and the truth of his statement. 

“Can you use your fingers and your mouth…” your eyes duck down as your voice gets incrementally lower with every word that escapes your lips, “on my…on my pussy?”

Your voice comes out in the softest shyest whisper on the last word, but he still smiles gently.

“Of course baby,” murmurs and inches up a little bit to play with the little lace bow at the top of the edge of your panties. “Good girl, I’m so so proud of you for saying it.”

He presses a kiss to the bow, his lips skimming the lace and his fingers brushing over the wet patch that was increasingly becoming wetter. 

“You’re already so wet for me,” he says in a low tone, with a hint of pride. He begins to slowly inch the panties down your thighs and legs, like he was unveiling the most precious treasure in the world. “Look at you…” he breathes out, “so pretty and perfect. My wife. Made just for me.” 

You let out a breathy little gasp as his long fingers part your folds. He lowers his head so that his warm breath ghosts against your clit, and you whimper as you helplessly squirm. As you looked down upon his head between your legs— his hair fell in front of his forehead making him look even more handsome in the low lighting. 

He swipes his thumb against your aching clit, making you cry out as he relieves some of the tension. Your hips jump and he laughs softly and then... 

“Oh—” you gasp as his head finally lowers and he flicks his tongue against your clit, his hands gently holding your hips down in place. “Spencer I— ah!”

He continued licking at your clit, and then gently sucked at it, raising a high pitched sob from your throat. You could feel him alternate between flicking his tongue and suckling, the combination leaving you squirming and whimpering under his touch. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any more pleasurable, he gently slipped a finger inside of you, moving it very slowly at first, and then finding a comfortable pace after he felt your walls adjust around him.

“Spencer it feels—” your words were cut off by the moan that you couldn’t help.

“Yeah baby, I know…it feels so good, I know,” he murmurs as he looks up then leans back down to suckle at your clit again. “You don’t have to say it, just let me keep taking care of you.” 

He continues to pump his fingers in you, adding a second one— then a third when he feels you’re ready. You could hear the obscene sound of your wetness as he licks and moves his fingers in and out, curling them until he hits that spot inside you. That spot that he knows will send you to the highest of heavens.

“Spence…mm..” you whimper. “M’close.”

He doubles down his efforts, but what sends hurtling over the edge of your orgasm was his whispered ‘I love you’ against your clit.

You shake and tremble through the waves of pleasure as he continues between your legs, licking and sucking as you ride out your orgasm.

When you finally lay panting, he presses one last quick kiss to your clit, the sensitivity making your hips slightly buck again and a soft whimper to leave your mouth. He makes his way back up to look into your eyes. 

“Hey,” he breathes out. “Are you okay?”. His eyes search your own. “You did so well, looked so beautiful.” 

“I’m good,” you whisper shakily, looking into his adoring gaze. “I…wow.”

He smiles gently and begins covering your forehead and cheeks in soft pecks.

“Do you want a hug?” he says softly, looking back up into your eyes. 

“Yes please,”  you whisper, wanting so desperately to be in his arms before he enters you again. 

He lights up, and pulls you into a hug, his lips brushing the top of your head. 

“I love you so much,” he hums out, rubbing your lower back. 

“I love you too,” you whisper back into his bare chest. 

He holds you tight for another minute, whispering soft ‘I love yous’ ever so often.

“I’m ready,” you whisper against his chest and he knows exactly what you mean. 

He kisses your forehead and sits up, beginning to slide his boxers off. You watch in soft adoration as they fall to the floor, and his pretty cock comes into view. You’ve never thought a cock could be thought of as pretty, but Spencer has proven you wrong time and time again.

You reach out to wrap your hand around it, but he gently catches your wrist in his own hand and holds it away.  

You begin to speak but he gently shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes.

“I want to make love to you now,” he breathes out as he eases you back onto the bed. “I want to be inside you and if you…touch me now…I might not last.”

When you're laying flat against the pillows again, his hands come up to hold onto yours beside your head. His eyes lock onto yours and you can feel all the love he has for you in his gaze. The emotion builds and builds in the silence until a lump forms in your throat and suddenly your eyes are stinging.

“Hey…hey,” he exhales, pressing his nose to yours, as you feel a drop of water make its way down your cheek. “Don’t cry, angel. I love you so so much. I’m right here. We’re married now,”. He swallows and now you can see that he’s on the verge of tears too. “You’re…You’re my wife now.”

He quickly swipes at his eyes before reaching back down to interlock your fingers again. He kisses each salty tear away with the aching tenderness that makes your heart squeeze. 

“I love you so much,” you breathe out as he reaches down to position the tip of himself against your entrance. 

“Love you back…my perfect girl…my wife,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead gently, then sweetly pecking your nose. “Ready, baby?” 

You nod, unable to speak, because if you do you might start crying again. 

He gives you the most gentle, the most impossibly sweet smile before he begins to sink into you. You squeeze his hands tight as he presses deeper slowly, taking his time to savor the first moment you are connected as husband and wife.  

You gasp as he goes as deep as he can go, his cock kissing the most inner parts of you. His forehead pressed against yours, and his eyes were closed. This was it. You felt every emotion spiral through you, both of your souls swirling and dancing around each other, connecting in the most intimate of ways. 

“God…” he breathes out, his voice trembling. “I love you with everything I am. You feel so good around me. You’re a perfect fit, like always. I don’t–...I can’t—,” he chokes out, taking another breath before continuing, “Every part of me belongs to every part of you.”

A tear rolls down your cheek, one that you both don’t bother brushing away. 

“I’m your girl forever,” you say shakily. “I want to be like this always. I never… I never want to be without you, Spencer,” You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him closer, his chest, pressing against your own. “You’re my other half.” 

He swallows back the lump in his own throat, his Adam's apple bobbing, before he smiles softly and kisses your forehead.

“Us forever,” he whispers into your ear, then draws back to lock eyes with you, as he begins to thrust slowly. “It’s you and me.”

You gasped as his cock brushed against the most innermost part of you again and again. Every part of you was connected to every part of him. Each slow stroke sent sensations throughout your whole body— echoing into your bones. You clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into his bare skin as he made love to you.

“That’s it, angel,” he whispers into your ear. “You’re doing so well. There you go,”. He looked at you with the kind of reverence one would show a religious landmark. You were the temple that he worshiped at. 

His thrusts remained slow but deep as he looked into your eyes— hitting that spot deep within you that made your whole body tense and clench around you. 

“Is that it?” he murmurs, reaching down to rub slow circles on your clit in tandem with his purposeful strokes. He smirks as you let out a high-pitched ‘ah’—hoisting your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper. “Yeah… that’s it.” 

"You don’t have to be so smug about it,” you manage to choke out between high pitched gasps. “I-oh,” your voice dissolves into the prettiest moan Spencer has ever heard. 

Spencer's breath hitched—any confident remark he was about to fire off gone as he felt your walls clench tightly around him again. He gazes at you like you were a miracle that he was somehow lucky enough to stumble into because, to him, you were. 

Spencer?” you whimper into his shoulder, as he adjusts your hips so he can hit that glorious spot each time. 

“Yeah, baby?”

“Harder…please.” 

Spencer's breath stutters at your whine, and you can hear the soft inhale he takes in your ear before he nods, adjusting his weight above you and starts to firmly thrust into you. The sound of the headboard rattling against the wall above you was almost erotic in its own way— knowing that Spencer was putting that much effort into bringing your pleasure that a whole king sized bed could shake. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes out as you clutch and cling to him, sensing you nearing the edge. “You’re my wife…my perfect girl.”

He keeps circling your clit, building you up through a steady rhythm instead of quickly trying to get you to your peak. As your body started to tense and tighten, he pressed kisses all over your cheeks and face, light brushes that were so light they felt like a feather caressing your face. 

“Baby, I’m close,” you whimper as your hips lift, chasing the friction of his hand as he thrusted. 

“I know,” he breathed out, kissing your collarbone. “You’re doing so well. Let me take care of you, I’m gonna get you there.” 

As he murmured sweet nothings in your ear, the waves of pleasure grew and grew until they reached their crest— and you shattered around him with a broken moan. 

“Spencer!” you cried as your body trembled and he held you so close it almost hurt but you didn’t care. 

“Let go baby,” He whispered as he continued with slow strokes as you rode out your orgasm. “I’m right here. I’ve got you. We have this forever.” 

You pant softly as you come down, him still thrusting gently trying not to overstimulate you as he reaches his own peak. 

“Fuck— baby,” he gasped out as you felt him tense then spill into you. “I love you.”

As you both catch your breath together, you look up into his eyes, a post orgasmic haze hovering around the both of you. Your hand lifts, trembling a bit, and you push the soft curls back from where they were hanging over his forehead into his eyes so you could have a clearer view. 

“You okay?” he whispers, studying every inch of your face to make sure there was no lingering soreness. “I went a little harder towards the end there. Was that okay?”

You smile because this was Spencer. Soft and sweet and yours. Always checking in and returning his gentle self after taking control and giving you the most pleasurable sensations you’ve ever felt in your life.

“Spencer,” you breathe out, pulling his head closer to yours to steal a kiss in between words. “That was amazing. Best wedding night ever.”

He presses another peck to your lips, then raises his head to look into your eyes with a silly smile forming on his lips. 

“Best wedding night ever?” he laughs, poking the tip of your nose. “This was your only wedding night ever.”

You giggle as you reach up to poke his nose back. 

“Yeah, but in my imagination if I had ever had any other wedding nights, this would be the best.” 

He caught your wrist before you could poke his nose again, and a slow smirk spread over his face before kissing your forehead over and over again. 

“I guess we just have to get married over and over to each other so we can have more wedding nights and do a comparison of all of them,” he smiles as you begin to giggle again, warmth from the sounds of your laugh spreading throughout your chest. “That way I can run a statistical analysis.” 

“Only you would suggest analyzing our wedding night for science,” you smile as he continues pressing kisses to your cheeks and forehead. 

He smiles as he leaves one more peck on your nose, before rolling off you and standing up.

“Where are you going?” you pout, the warmth that had been present only seconds ago now gone cold.

He smiles as he reaches down to stroke your hair.

“I am going to get something to clean you up,” he whispers, “and then…we’re going to order so much room service.”

You perked up immediately. 

“Room service? Can we get whatever we want?”

He laughs as he comes back with a warm washcloth, sitting beside you on the bed again. 

“Whatever we want, angel,” he says softly as he leans down to gently clean you between your thighs. His touch was so soft, wiping away whatever remained and soothing any lingering soreness. 

After he finished and quickly disposed of the washcloth, he lay back beside you and you immediately found yourself back in his arms— like you were two opposite ends of a magnet. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your forehead. “My lovely, perfect wife.”

You looked up from your cocoon in his arms, and met his eyes, overflowing with adoration.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, eyes fluttering as you tried to force yourself to keep them open— not wanting this night to end quicker than it had to.

“Hey,” Spencer breathed against your forehead, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes, “you can go to sleep…I’ll be here. I’ll always be here. We have tomorrow like this, then our honeymoon… then forever.”

Your stomach flipped again at the mention of forever, as his breath warmed your ear. You were plastered to him, like you were an extension of his body. 

“Don’t let go,” is the only thing you come up with to whisper back, because if you tried to say more you might start crying from emotion like earlier. 

He immediately shakes his head, like even the notion was absurd.

“Never ever” he whispered back with one final sleepy kiss to your forehead.

You fall asleep mid mumble of ‘I love you’, and he just smiled against your forehead, squeezing even tighter. 

You didn’t have to finish the sentence. He already knew. You had forever to say it again, anyways. 

****

"Georgia college." He sighed and passed a file across the table, "Four students from the same philosophy class have been murdered. All of them found dead in their dorm, poisoned."

"Jesus, that's brutal." You sigh, "Can the local police not interview everyone in the class?"

"They have, no one has flagged any concern. So they believe the unsub can either blend in or is another student on campus." He explained, "So they asked us if we had an agent we could send in. Morgan calls you baby bird for a reason." He smiled, a rare Hotch smile.

"So, we're sending you in as a college student. And Reid as a professor."

You choked back a cough. "Reid?"

It wasn't like you didn't like Reid, but he did not like you. He had a reputation, smart, genius that doesn't like newcomers in his unit. He never let you get away with a slip of the tongue, constantly correcting your every word. It was infuriating.

"He's an experienced profiler and he has lecturing experience." Hotch said, "Plus he will have a view of the whole room."

"I don't need hand holding Hotch." You pursed your lips, flipping the file closed and pressing it onto your legs.

"I know you don't. It's for everyone's safety." He sighed and huffed with a tone that told you there was no point in arguing back.

Sinking into the chair, you cross one leg over the other. "Do I need to do the assignments?" You asked.

"We aren’t sure yet. Come on, Garcia is about to debrief the team." He held the door open for you and you ducked under his arm.

The round table chatter stopped as soon as you stepped into the room. All of them trying to look busy as they did whenever they were gossiping.

"Do I really look like I could still be in college?" You sigh and throw yourself into your chair in between Morgan and JJ.

"Yes." "Yes." "A little." "We call you baby bird for a reason."

"I hate you guys." You grump, and shove your elbow into Morgan's ribs. "I do not look twenty two. I'm almost thirty."

"Actually," You roll your eyes as you hear Reid's voice cut across the chuckling. "You're actually three years, seven months and eleven days away from thirty. So not almost. Also due to your slightly larger eyes and your affinity to wear pink makes people believe you are younger than you actually are." He rattled off, fiddling with his fingers.

You opened your mouth to spit something back when Penelope came into the room in a flurry. She had bags of shopping bundled into her grip, dumping them down the floor and swooping in with the remote in hand.

"Morning, my superhuman crime fighters. I'll get right into it! At Georgia college four students have recently been killed in their dorm rooms." She clicked on the button and four pictures popped up. "James Gripe, Lucy Brown, Issac Nike and Cara Smith. At first, they thought James Gripe had died from caffeine overconsumption and stress from finals. But then, Lucy, Issac and Cara were found in the concurrent weeks." She sighed sadly, looking at their faces in sympathy.

"Crossing both race and gender lines is rare." Rossi stated, scribbling down the names in his journal.

"The police already looked into the other students in the class right?" Emily asked and Hotch nodded.

"No one caused them any concern." He confirmed, "And as far as the students know they all have died of an overdose and stress related causes. The local ME is currently checking the bodies for signs of poison."

"The media is going to have a field day if this gets out." JJ sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"Alright. Wheels up in 30, the sooner we get started the better. We'll discuss the undercover operation on the jet." Hotch said, striding out of the round table and back into his office.

Everyone else filed out, Derek pulling Reid to the side and mumbling something about "Getting better at talking to women." and Pen yanked you to the side before you could step out.

"I got you some things!" She rummaged around in the bag and shoved some clothes into your arms.

You held up a dress against your body. "Why the hell did you buy me a club dress?"

"You're going to college! And you're like my little sister and I couldn't send you off without a hot dress" She said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Oh, and a shirt and a mini skirt." She held them up.

"Thanks Pen." You smile and pull her into a tight hug. "I'll send you a picture if i end up wearing it." She gripped back onto you tighter.

"Come back to me safe, Baby Bird." She whispered into your hair.

"I will." You nod and peck her on the cheek, shoving the clothes into your go bag and getting ready to hit the tarmac.

"Wait!" Pen shouts across the bullpen and runs toward you as fast as she could with her too high heels. "I forgot to give you these."

----

Hauling your go bag into the overhead cabin, you sit down opposite Hotch. He slides your new ID across the table and you put it straight into your wallet.

"Everyone in that class is a potential victim." Derek sighed, flipping over the papers in his file.

"What that's like forty more potential victims?" You scoff, shaking your head.

"Forty six. Well, forty seven including you." Reid cut in, not even looking up from the book his face was buried in.

"Close enough." You grit out, teeth clenched.

"Not exact." He spat back.

Rolling your eyes and turning away from him, shoving a middle finger his way and huffing towards Derek. He smiled towards you cheekily, "Did you get Penelope's gifts?"

"Yeah. A tiny shirt, a mini skirt and a barely there dress." Derek let out a low whistle. "Oh, and about five million condoms." You pull the box from your pocket where you'd shoved them in with your cheeks turning red, hoping that no one in the bullpen saw.

"You could go through half of Georgia with those."

Ripping off a strip and threw it, hitting him square in the chest. "And you can go through half the police department with those." You joke and nudge him with the tip of your shoe.

"That was one time man!" He exclaimed.

"Actually, there were the two in Colorado." Emily piped in.

"One in California, and another in Florida." JJ continued.

"Don't forget police chief Jones in Texas." You teased, counting on your fingers.

"And the nurse in Oregon." Rossi finished.

"And that was all in the last six months." Hotch put the nail in the coffin, never usually joining in on the team banter. But he was smirking over his file at Derek's mock glare.

"C'mon we've all gone home with someone once. Well apart from babybird and pretty boy over there." He defended, throwing his hands up.

You scoff, "Hey, I don't want to become a case. Look at half of our cases, they all go home with their killers." You shake your head and climb out of the seat and into the plane aisle.

"At least I'm not thirty year old virgin over there." You snort, pulling open the small blue curtain to the kitchenette with a loud screech.

"Thirty two." He corrects, having now moved on to another book. Flipping a page in between words, the whole page completed.

"I like how that's the part you correct." You purse your lips, snorting and closing the curtain behind you, the kettle beginning to bubble. You knew he was thirty two, you were there at the party Pen made him have at Rossi's. But sometimes, you liked to push. To see how far you could take it before he couldn't resist and correct you. Usually, it just took you rounding up or down to make his patience to tip over.

You sigh quietly as you sit down with a scalding cup of coffee, the bitter taste burning your tongue as you sip it down.

"Looking forward to doing assignments again?" Emily asks, clasping her hands together on the wooden table.

"Definitely not, I'm not that well versed in philosophy so I better get reading." You smile, trying to lighten her worry.

"I suspect Professor Reid will mark you highly." She laughed, her eyes darting over your shoulder to him.

You follow her gaze and quickly glance over, hoping he wouldn't notice. But he was already looking at you. Probably from hearing Emily mention his name. It takes you a second to pull away from his intense stare. Emily cleared her throat, yanking you back to reality.

"I think I'll be his least favourite student." You roll your eyes, still feeling his eyes glaring at the back of your head.

----

You never thought you’d be back at college. But now, you were walking through the hallways of Georgia college with a backpack filled to the brim on your back. Thick textbooks and laptop weighing you down, or was it the nerves of trying to blend in?

It was far too early in the morning for most of the students around you, all dragging their feet and murmured complaints due to the previous late night.

Slowing, in front of the lecture hall. Coming to a stop in front of a group of girls standing and chatting amongst themselves.

“Excuse me,” You start. “Is this Professor Wright’s philosophy?”

They quiet, and turn to you. “Yeah! but he’s on leave so another professor is standing in. Are you new?” The dark haired girl asked, a soft smile on her face.

“Yeah, I just transferred from Arizona. Something to do with the credit amounts for graduation.” You shrugged. “I’m - Ivy." The name stumbles out unnaturally, like it doesn't belong to you. Because it doesn't. The introduction feels foreign in your mouth and heat pooled in your cheeks.

“Marie. And this is Chloe and Sarah.” She points to the girls staring behind her, they both give a wave.

The door to the lecture hall swings open. And everyone starts to file in. The plan was to sit at the back, keeping your head down and being able to view the whole room.

“Come sit with us!” Marie smiled, waving you over to the front row.

Descending down the stairs of the lecture hall, long hair bouncing, you slide into the seat on the end of the aisle. Pulling out your laptop and loading it up.

“I wonder what the new professor will be like,” She whispered into your ear. “Professor Wright was great, but he was basically a dinosaur.” She giggled.

“Hopefully good. I really need this credit.” You sigh, opening your mouth to speak again when the door swings open.

“Sorry, I’m late. I couldn’t find the hall.” Reid came spluttering into the hall and throwing his shoulder bag on the desk and uncapping the whiteboard marker and scribbling his name now. “I’m Professor Gardener, and I’ll be here while Professor Wright is on sick leave. I assure you he is feeling OK and has started his recovery.”

But you knew Professor Wright wasn’t sick, he was sat in his cushy lakeside home. Getting paid time off to lounge around and read through his library.

It had allowed Professor Gardener or as you knew, Doctor Reid pacing around in his element. He had slid into the professor role like a second skin. Hotch had mentioned he had guest lectured before, but the confidence was surprising.

“I’ve been told you were about to start Kantian ethics. So into Kantian ethics 101!” His hands clap and his voice fades into the background as another voice whispered in your ear, pulling you away from the lecture.

“He’s so hot.” Marie said, your head darting toward her.

“What?” You whisper back, slightly alarmed, “Don’t you think he’s like a bit, I don’t know, nerdy?”

“But like a hot nerd.”

Reid’s rambling pulled your attention back to the front of the room. He wasn’t hot, he was all knitted cardigans and wool ties. Stupid facts about Doctor who and how the physics was dodgy. He talked with his hands, waving them around with every unnecessary word. Long fingers that could solve a rubix cube in seconds. His facial hair had started growing in, a shadow coating the bottom half of his face. And standing up there as he lectured, the way the words slipped from him with ease. Maybe, he was hot.

But he was Reid. And Reid was your annoying co worker. The only person on the team who still didn't believe in you as an agent. And there he was standing, as Professor Gardener. And he looked hot.

----

And apparently, half of campus also thought so. Walking into the lecture hall that had been half empty was almost full. The sight makes you trip over your feet and almost tumble down the stairs.

A hand grabbed your bicep and pulled you back and into a chest. You don't need to turn around to know who it was. You knew his cologne, the scent of books and coffee also a hint of mint. You steady yourself and spin around to look at him, he was closer than you thought he would be.

"Professor Gardener. Uh, thank you." You nod and start to head down the stairs where Marie had saved you a seat with her handbag.

"You're also new, Ivy right?" He said, falling in step next to you.

His casual small talk takes you back, you can never recall a time Reid had spoken to you casually. "Yeah, I had to transfer. Graduation credits, you know how it is." You shrugged, stopping at the row. "And thank you again."

Sitting down next to Marie, she immediately grips onto you. "What was that?" She almost gasped.

"I tripped, he caught me." You responded.

"It was straight out of a romcom! I think half of the people in here want to kill you." She giggled.

"He was just being polite." You glaze over the interaction and start to pull out your laptop and textbook.

"People are already calling him Gorgeous Gardener." She continued, and your breath stuttered. This case was going to be a lot more difficult than you thought.

You knew you were staring, ogling even. You were supposed to be looking at him, it was normal to keep your eyes on the professor. But the nickname was true. He was gorgeous. It had wormed it's way into your head, you couldn't escape the thought. Like a bad smell, the thought of Reid being attractive had spent it's time racing around your brain.

He looked like Reid, the same slightly grown out hair do. He moved like Reid, waving his hands around and fiddling with his fingers as he spoke. He dressed like Reid, a dark blue sweater vest and brown blazer. And he even smelled like Reid, the memory of his scent as he pulled you into him. Nevertheless, he wasn't making you feel like Reid.

But a sharp elbow jutted into your ribs.

"Ivy." He was standing at the front of the lecture hall with an expectant raised eyebrow.

"Sorry, what was the question?"

"Could you give us a quick summary of Kantian ethics?" His face hadn't changed.

"Uh, yeah." You tried not to stumble over your words and sent him a glare. "Developed by Immanuel Kant, deciding whether actions are right or wrong depending on duty and moral rules, not the consequences."

"Thank you. Pay attention next time." He span around on his conversed feet and back to the whiteboard. The same condescending tone he used on every case when he felt the need to correct your every word.

At the end of the day. He was still Reid.

The rose coloured glasses that Professor Gardener had grown over your eyes wilted away in an instant. Rose had deepened to red and you were glaring at him the way you had a million times before.

"Kantian ethics teaches that we should always act according to moral duties and universal rules. This creates a fair and consistent moral system." He explained, pacing between his desk and the whiteboard. "Does anyone have an argument against?"

His eyes darted around the room, nodding towards a girl in the middle of the room.

"Uh, I'm just auditing this class." She said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She flashed a smile at him.

"Oh. Is anyone else auditing this class?" He asked, and a sea of hands raised and your lip curled up in slight disgust. "Hmm, ok."

Your hand shot up into the air. He nodded towards you a sign for you to speak, not before looking desperately for someone else to answer. "But life is more complicated than simple rules. What if it causes harm to follow a rule?"

He looked surprised at your rebuttal. "Kant would argue that the moral rules should be followed regardless of consequences. Otherwise, people would make exceptions when it suited them."

"But take the famous example. Lying to a killer to save someone’s life. Telling the truth would lead to the death of an innocent person."

"Morality becomes subjective if we start making exemptions." He clicked his tongue.

"We can still have moral principles while recognising that consequences matter. A rule that leads to preventable harm does not seem truly moral." He tried to shoot an argument back.

"Morality should also help people and reduce suffering. If a moral theory ignores the real effects of actions, it can produce unfair outcomes." You hide the look of satisfaction on your face.

"That is the most common critique of Kantian ethics." He nodded, turning to the whiteboard and uncapped the pen with a pop. "As it's a Friday, I give you an essay."

Everyone in the room groaned, arms hanging heavy by your sides as your eyes follow his letters. "Is Kantian Ethics correct? You can argue for or against. I expect them to be on my desk by next Friday. Have a good weekend." Just as everyone was about to run out of there at the speed of light. "My office hours are the same as Professor Wright's, so see the paper on the door."

----

The weekend for you didn't mean going out partying and scrambling to plan your essay. Instead, you were sat in the back of a local police precinct. The taste of cardboard and burnt coffee peeked through the burning in your mouth.

You were sat with your head held up by your chin. The door opened and the rest of the team filed in.

"How was class?" JJ asked a joking lilt in her voice, sliding an actual, smooth cup of coffee across the desk.

"Professor Gardener treating you well?" Emily snorted.

Glaring at her but thanking her for the coffee. "I have an essay due next Friday." You fix your glare on Reid, "Oh, and there's about twenty more people auditing the class."

"Nineteen." He corrected.

"And that's nineteen more potential victims." Morgan sighed, "Has anyone in the class come up? Nothing has come up on our end."

"For me, no not yet. Everyone seems like a regular student so far. But I've been keeping my eye out." You explain, notepad and textbook open with the arguments you had chosen highlighted.

"Well if you had spent your time actually looking, rather than gossiping with the girls at the front. You would have seen something." Reid snarked, turning his body away from you and started to address the rest of the team. "There's a guy at the back of the class.-"

You take a deep breath before speaking, "I know that you spent all of your school years sat in the class with no friends. But I didn't, and I'm not going to sulk in the back of the class." You were shoving things back into your bag. "Fuck off, Reid." Your backpack smacked into him as you stormed out of the precinct, the door slammed loudly behind you.

Raging as your feet slammed along the pavement, hands balled into fists, held tightly at your sides. "Ivy, Ivy!" It takes a few seconds for the name to register before you turn around with a smile on your face. "Are you ok? Why were you at the station?" Marie asked, worry painted on her face.

"I just had to change my address to get my mail." Rolling your eyes, you lean all of your weight onto your back foot. "The college said they had handled it, what a way to spend your weekend huh?"

"Oh my God! You should come out with me, Chloe and Sarah!" She grabbed the tops of your arms, shaking you back and forth.

"Um." You pretend to pause in thought. "Not this weekend, we have that essay due in. But next weekend, count me in!"

Marie's face lit up with a large smile. "I'm so excited!" She linked arms with you, leading you away from the station. "There's this bar, they have themed cocktails every single week. They’re a tad expensive but soo strong so it's worth the money!"

She reminded you of Pen in a way, the happy go lucky attitude. The way she took you in like a stray, forcing you to go out for drinks. She brought a slither of normal in your facade, and well there was no stopping Reid from being, well Reid.

----

You had gotten the call that morning. They had found another body. It was a guy, Harry Jones. He sat in the middle of the class, he never spoke. He just sat with his friends and took notes whenever was necessary.

Penelope had managed to work out every victims average grades. They had all been in the top half of the class.

You were slumped in your chair, not listening to a thing Reid was saying. Your ears were tuned into the rows behind you, listening in for any mention of Harry's name. You could tell he was profiling too, eyes constantly scanning the rows, talking on autopilot.

No one was talking about anything of note. Marie, Chloe and Sarah were talking about what they were going to wear to the bar later. The people a few rows behind were talking about what grade they thought they were going to get. Not a mention of Harry. No one realised he was gone.

You could tell Reid was profiling too, eyes constantly scanning the rows, talking on autopilot. Professor Gardener was long gone, you were looking at Reid. But it seemed he was coming up empty too.

"Right." He clapped, casually strolling over to the desk. Resting his hand atop the essays he had collected at the start of class and patted them gently. "Have a good weekend, no homework this week. See you on Wednesday!"

Marie linked arms with you once again, asking you what you were going to wear that night.

"Ivy!" His voice called as you got to the door.

"Hmm? Yes, Professor Gardener." You responded, leaning on the doorway.

"Could you come by my office later? I scanned your essay and there’s a couple points I think we could discuss in depth." He held up the paper, and Marie excuses herself. Lingering right outside.

"Sure, I'll swing by later." You run your finger across the paper on the door. "7pm?"

He nodded. "Sounds good."

Marie pretty much dragged you from the lecture hall. "You should so wear that dress you sent me a picture of." She giggled.

"I cannot wear that to my meeting with Professor Gardener." You deadpanned, hitting her lightly on the arm.

"I meant the bar. Your mind went there." She smiled, "But you should do that too, ugh I want him to go in depth with me." Groaning, she leant her head on your shoulder.

"Marie!" You exclaimed, jaw hanging open in shock. "You need to get laid girl, you should totally look for someone tonight."

"I was already planning on it." She smirked. "You better wear that dress."

----

You did wear the dress. The sparkly red fabric glittering as you snapped a picture for Penelope. It stopped at the top of your thighs, constantly pulling it down as your heels clicked on the pavement. It was too short, and had too much cleavage in your opinion, but it wasn't your opinion. It was Ivy's.

The halls were desolate and slightly chilly as you made your way to Reid's office. Well, Professor Wright's office. The golden plaque shined in the dim lighting. Checking over your shoulder, before you knocked on the door. You could hear shuffling behind the door before it swung open.

"Come in." He said, head sticking out of the door and looking down the hall.

"I wasn't followed." You rolled your eyes, your hand hitting his chest and kicking the door closed. Reaching behind you, clicking the lock shut you look around the office and step further in. "What do you want Reid?"

Standing across from him, hands resting on the back of the armchair opposite his desk. He looked up from the papers on his desk.

"What are you wearing?" It tumbled out of his mouth and his eyebrows scrunched together.

You matched his look of confusion. "A dress?" It wasn't like he hadn't seen you in a mini dress before. You always wore one when you went out with the team. Maybe not one this short or low cut, but a minidress nonetheless.

"Does Hotch know you're going out?" He asked, brows still furrowed.

"Yes, Professor Gardener." You snarked, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms across your chest.

He sucked in a breath, "I wanted to talk to you about your essay."

"Are you serious?" You scoffed, stalking around to the other side of the desk.

You leant across the desk, plucking out a red pen from the pot. Uncapping it and writing on your own paper. A. "There we go, now we don't have to talk about it."

"That's not-"

"Precise, correct, fair?" You laughed, straightening your back and you went to grab your handbag off of the table where you had dumped it.

But he snatched it out of your grasp, unzipping it and digging through it.

"What the fuck Reid?"

He held up the condoms that you had shoved into your bag. "Are you going to sleep with a college student?" His voice was coated with disdain.

"I don't think that's your business is it, Professor?" You lean forward, trying to snatch them out of his grip.

"As your Professor, no. But as your superior agent, it is." He moved backwards, stopping your waving grip. The smirk you had become acquainted with.

"I'm not going to fuck a college student. But I might just, if it pisses you off so much." You pouted in his face, heavy breaths making your chest rise and fall in his face. "I know you're a virgin Reid but Jesus."

That caught him off guard, giving you the opportunity to snatch them back and slide them back into your handbag. "Maybe we won't even use these."

"I'm not a virgin." He gritted through his teeth, glaring at your bare back.

You can't help but laugh out loud at that, "I'll believe it when I see it." Your hair shakes with your head, striding towards the door.

The smell of him hits you before you feel him. Your hand stilled as it reached for the doorknob, the same scent that hit you when he stopped you from falling down the stairs. His grip on your bicep was familiar, the tips of his fingers digging in as his other hand brushed your hair to one side.

"You are insufferable." He whispered, warm breath hitting the shell of your ear.

It was like you had forgotten how to breathe. He was inching closer to you, the warmth of his chest radiating against your back. "Reid." You sighed.

"Professor." He corrected, spinning you around and pushing you against the door roughly. "If anyone gets to cum inside of you tonight, It's going to be me."

Your head thumped backwards, eyebrows pulling together as his eyes met yours. It was like you had lost all sense, you hated Reid. But the mention of him cumming inside you had any rational abandoned.

"Does that sound good?" He hummed.

"Yes, Professor Reid." You sighed.

"Fuck." He growled before pressing his lips into yours. Your hands came forward to grip onto the lapels on his blazer, pulling him closer. His lips were softer than you expected, contrasted with his teeth coming out to yank on your bottom lip.

Your bag dropped to the floor with a thud. As his hands, the hands you had spent countless lectures staring at, started to wander. Long fingers travelled down your back, pulling up goosebumps in their wake. Then, his hands scooped you up, legs wrapping around his hips as he pressed you into the door.

His hardness pushed into you, making you gasp out and slide your hands into his hair and giving it a light tug. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, walking you across the room and sliding the papers and pens off the desk. They hit the floor with a clatter as he lowered you down.

Both of you panted as he separated, a line of spit connecting you between your lips. Neither of you said anything for a beat, just staring at each other with blown pupils.

A second later, he cupped your jaw and pulled your back straight, kissing you again.

Now it was your turn for your hands to wander, slotting your hands under his blazer and pushing it off and it hit the floor gently. Then, your hands came to fiddle with the buckle on his belt. It clinked loudly as you whipped it out of the belt loops. The button popped open not long after.

He made work of your dress, pulling it up and letting it pool around your hips. Not even taking your panties off, just sliding them to the side as the pads of his fingers come into contact with your clit.

"Jesus!" You gasped out, pulling him closer with your ankle. Painted nails sliding down the front of his brown corduroy slacks and cupping his dick.

His eyes rake down you, dress pulled up, panties to the side. Eyes hooded, chest heaving desperately as you throw your head back.

"You look, divine." He whispered into your ear, the intimacy of it took you by surprise. His finger still worked against your clit, leaving you writhing and gasping under his gaze.

You shoved his slacks down, his white boxer shorts followed not long after. His compliment sent a fire through your veins and a desperation to have him inside you take over.

His fingers pulled off of you, your whining halted. "Hurry up and fuck me!" You groaned, wrapping your legs around his hips. Your heel dug into his backside and it fell to the floor.

He took his dick in his hand, looking down at you. The tip hit against your clit and he slid it up and down through your wetness. "Ah, ah, ah." He teased, refusing to push in, just leaving you with the delicious pressure of almost. "Say please."

"Oh, fuck off." You sigh, trying anything to get closer. Just anything to get him inside you.

He pulled his dick away, and it was like your brain had melted any rationality away. "Please, Reid." You pleaded, knuckles turning white at how hard you were gripping the edge of his desk. "Professor, please." You looked up at him through your lashes.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. He pressed his forehead to yours just as he sank into you. He was bigger than you thought he'd be. Not that you'd thought about it. The head brushed past your g spot as he bottomed out.

You couldn't help the almost scream that came from you. "Spencer!"

You had never called him Spencer, most of the time you didn't even address him. But any worry left your mind after hearing his groan as he pulled most of the way out, before slamming into you again.

His lips attached to your neck and your toes curled inside your heels. "No marks." You panted out.

Nodding into the crook of your neck, he slid his hands under you. He lifted you slightly, the new angle letting him pound deeper inside you. This lead to a string of moans to explode from your chest and his hand clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet.

He wasn't doing a good job of keeping quiet himself. Panting and groaning into your neck, teeth scratching your earlobe. Your hands screwed into the front of his shirt, whining helplessly at the brutal pace he was fucking you with.

"S-spencer." You both fall backwards, your back flat on the cool wooden desk and him hunched over you never faltering.

"You're much more bearable like this." He smirked down at you, reviling in the state he had you in. A fucked out pink flush painted across your cheeks, tits bouncing with every thrust that coaxed a wet noise from your pussy every time he slapped against it.

You tried to form a rebuttal, but what came out was babbling that vaugly sounded like hsi name. Desperately, pulling him closer with your nails scratching down his back.

"Awh, poor baby." He teased, "Can't you speak?"

The mocking had your head reeling and your walls clenching around him. The teasing, his body pressing you into the desk, the unrelenting pace and the smell of him was all just too much. It had the coil inside you ready to snap.

Your eyes meet his again and you slam your mouth to his. Tongue peeking into your mouth as your thighs started to tremble. You had your toes curled so hard that your heels slid off your feet and falling to the floor. Spencer's hand snaked down and hit your clit again, moving the wetness around with his fingers.

It had lightening bolts shooting through your spine and the coil in your belly to snap. Nails digging into his shoulder blades and a too loud cry of his name. "Spencer!" It almost echoed around the room as he fucked you through your orgasm, leaving you tightening and fluttering around his cock.

Then, he was cumming himself, with a similar groan of your name and a few more deep thrusts that sent your eyes rolling. His release was warm inside of you, he paused for a second. Letting it pool inside of you and leaving you both breathing into each others mouth's. His dick slid out of you, pussy clenching around emptiness. Gently, he moved your underwear back with a tenderness you wouldn't have expected.

Suddenly, the feeling of his cum pooling in your panties, had you hurtling back to reality. It was like a cool bucket of water had been thrown over you.

It was Reid. You and Reid had sex. Not even sex, fucked. He was technically your professor. And you had his cum dripping out of you.

You yanked your dress down, refusing to look him in the eye.

"That can't happen again." He called over his shoulder as you grabbed your bag. Piling the lip gloss that had spilled all over the floor when it had fallen from your fingers.

"I know." You commented, clicking the lock open and the door.

"Be careful, and you can call me if you need me to come and get you." He gave you that tight lipped smile he did when he felt awkward.

"Will do." You mirrored his face, your hair falling in front of your face and closing the door with a soft click.

Your dress was missing sparkles from all over and you had six missed calls from Marie, and you took off into the city.

----

The bar was exactly as Marie had described. It was slightly tacky with bright coloured lights with ocean themed drinks. Everyone was walking around with blue drinks with fish shaped ice cubes, sharks sticking from the top.

"Ivy!" Marie called, waving you over from the booth they had grabbed in the corner.

"Hey." You smiled and sidled into the booth next to Sarah.

"What did Professor Gardener want?" Sarah asked, close to your ear, cutting through the thumping pop music.

"Apparently, I did really well on my essay. There was just a couple mistakes he wanted me to clear up for next time." You smiled, casting a look towards the bar. "I'm going to go and get a drink! I'll be back."

The drink was overly sweet, Penelope would have loved it. The grenadine turned the blue drink a light purple.

"So tell us what mark you got, you can't leave us hanging girl." Marie grasped onto your arm. "Also what happened with Professor Gardenerrr?" She teased lightly and Chloe smacked her on the arm.

"I got a 97." You feigned a blush, hiding you face behind your hair.

Marie and Chloe gasped, excitedly shaking you back and forth. Some of your drink sloshing over the rim and making the bar table more sticky than it already was.

"You're going to get the credits that you need toats, oh my god we need to throw you a graduation party." She praised, her face lit up in the same way you had seen it so many times.

Just as you went to agree, head already nodding.

"Ivy, that guy over there is so looking at you." Sarah cut across, pointing a finger across the bar.

Your eyes followed her finger to find a very smiley Derek Morgan. You smile back at him with a small wave.

"Well go talk to him! He's so hot!" Chloe exclaimed, "Plus you deserve it after such a good essay."

Your eyes darted between them and him, pretending to give a moment of deliberation. Before standing up and glancing over your shoulder. "If he's weird, I'm coming back."

Winding your way through the crowded bar, smoothly directing yourself between sweaty bodies until you got to the booth. You slid up next to Morgan, your side pressing up against his.

"This dress is a gift from Penelope I assume." He whispered into your ear and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"How could you tell?" You said back, looking back to the table of girls looking towards you expectantly. Sticking your thumb up towards them, you turn towards Derek fully.

"Have you been dancing with someone else babybird?" He asked, still leaned in close.

"No, why?" You scrunched your eyebrows.

"You smell like another man."

It felt like your stomach dropped to your feet, and you hoped and prayed that he wouldn't recognise the scent. Suddenly, it was like you could feel the cum that was wetting your panties through. The shame burned bright on your cheeks.

"Yikes, I need to get rid of my perfume." Joking, you elbowed him, "Go for a smoke?" You pulled the packet out of your purse and waved it in his face.

As the two of you stepped out of the bar you sent Marie a message. 'Going home with hot stuff, see you wednesday. ;)'

The cool air hit and was very, very welcome. Bricks pressed into your back and you let out a long, deep sigh. Lighting up the cigarette and holding it towards Derek.

"I don't smoke." He smiled, watching you puff out smoke.

"One of the girls I was with, Sarah. Get Pen to look into her, she was acting weird about my meeting with Reid." You throw a look over your shoulder and see Marie and the girls looking at you expectantly. "I think we're being watched." You murmured, leaning close to Derek's ear.

His muscles flexed under your trailing grip. "Want to get out of here?"

"Yeah." You nod, throwing a sheepish glance over your shoulder and a small wave to the girls who definitely weren't looking through the window.

Turning the corner there was a familiar squad car waiting for you.

----

Again, you spent your weekend hunched over a conference table. Files piled up around your head. The team had gone all in on Sarah, and the deeper you dug, the more she looked like your unsub.

"Her grades have been steadily dropping for the last few semesters." Emily commented, putting another file in the completed bin.

"Ah-Ha!" Penelope exclaimed, her face popping up on the monitor. "Recently, Sarah's adoptive Mom died. It didn't come up in the original searches because she wasn't offically adopted. The papers never went through."

"So we've got our stressor." Hotch nodded, his arms crossed tensely in the corner of the room. "Reid, have you noticed anything during class?"

As he started talking, you realised you hadn't looked over once. It was like he wasn't even there. "She seemed pretty normal until I read through the essay she handed in. Her critique of the ethics I set was neither for or against. But was more arguing that murder isn't entirely immoral." He explained, taking a sip from his coffee before continuing.

"Her argument was that neither lying or committing the murder is immoral. As both have their own moral explanations." He continued.

"Like lying to the murderer, or killing in self defence." You said without thought, his brown eyes meeting yours. Gaze dropped to your swirling cup of coffee, there was no escape from reminders of him.

"Wow babybird, they'll make a philosopher of you yet." Emily smiled, JJ giggled. "But what's the plan to get her to act again."

Rossi started to plan, "Release the grades publicly, put a select few people at the top of the list. We put an agent on everyone on the top of the list."

"She already thinks babybird has done well. So we stick her in a college dorm and wait. Also." He paused, looking between you and Reid. "If we were to drum up some rumours." He clicked his tongue, holding back a smirk.

Penelope squealed through the screen, "Are you telling me the garden is going to grow some ivy?" Her bottom lip pulled in between her teeth.

"What?" Reid asked, confused.

"Only if the two of you are comfortable." Hotch said at the same time and you sank deeper into the chair. Face burning as bright as a christmas light.

"Oh God." You groaned, head in your hands. Peeking through your fingers at Reid's face paling after JJ had kindly explained it into his ear. Finally, you made real eye contact for the first time all morning.

"We'll do it." He confirmed with a nod, and you a slightly less sure one.

"Oh my God!" Penelope cried, "It's like a cringe romcom. You should wear that mini skirt!"

"Garcia." Hotch warned, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

Your eyes still locked together, you had to remind you it was for a case. All of it was for a case. No matter how fast your heart was beating. None of it was real.

----

The mini skirt was worn. Pleats brushing the tops of your thighs, falling right at the curve of your ass. The shirt you were wearing had one too many buttons undone.

Class hadn't started, it was just you and Reid in your meticulously planned play. Standing at his desk with your open, empty notebook. The bend of your back too salacious for just a teacher and student. His warmth radiated on your back as his arm reached around you, finger running down the blank page. You swore you could feel him starting to grow against your ass. Goosebumps pulled up on your skin, it wasn't real. It was a waiting game and you were begging for someone to catch you.

And someone did. Marie, Chloe and Sarah came bustling in. They paused in the doorway as the two of you jumped apart in fake shock.

"Um, thank you." You stuttered shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Eyes planted firmly at your shoes, toes tapping on the floor and making your way to your front row seat.

Marie scrambled to your side, dragging you down into the seat as everyone else made their way in. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know what you mean." Your voice ticked up, eyes raking him up and down.

"Mhm." She hummed, eyebrow raised.

You weren't listening to anything he was saying. Shamelessly, eye fucking him as he explained things to the class. Lip bitten in between your teeth and tongue wetting your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, the three of them couldn't help but glance over.

He was just as intense back, every wave of his hands sending you back to having your brain fucked out on his desk. The lines were blurring between Ivy and Gardener and you and Reid. And you weren't sure if you minded.

Then, your pen rolled off the wooden desk, clattering to the ground and silencing his rambling. Halting teaching, striding towards your desk. When he crouched, your legs uncrossed. Revealing the damp spot that was ever present on your panties.

It sent him stuttering, "Y-your pen... Ivy."

"Thank you, Professor." The pen made home in between your lips, looking up at him through your lashes. Ivy had disappeared, it felt like it was just you and Reid in the room. Everyone else melted away.

He spent the rest of the lecture, glancing over to you every few seconds. Wiping sweaty palms down the front of his pants. "Alright!" He concluded, "I think that's enough for today. Oh! But before you go. Your essays, I'll hand them out."

He travelled back to front. Telling polite good jobs, or this needs improvements. Until, he got to the front row. Chloe and Marie got a good job, a kind nod, that left them smiling at their marks.

But then came Sarah, he slid the paper across the desk upside down with a tight smile on his face. And then you, a huge smile on his face, hand reaching out to your shoulder. It wasn't real.

"See me after class." His thumb brushed a strand of hair from your shoulder, before turning to the rest of the class. "Alright! See you next week!"

Hanging around, you waved goodbye to Marie and Chloe. Sarah had disappeared quickly, throwing a look you couldn't quite read over her shoulder before turning the corner.

The door slammed close, but the tight air didn't diffuse. You drifted to the other side, leaning on your desk. You could hear him breathing, hands gripping the desk, back hunched over. The lines had blurred, it wasn't Ivy's underwear that were soaked through. It was yours.

"Reid-" You started, his name coming out more like an awkward squeak.

"Spencer." He cut you off, voice gruff and he finally straightened up. His brown leather shoes, clicked on the tiled floor. A slow, echoing rhythm that made you look up from your swinging feet.

"Look, I'm sorry." You sighed, looking everywhere but his face. "I took it too far." Mouth claggy, hands sweaty.

"Hmm," He hummed, hand darting out and gripped your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. "Are you sorry? The state of your panties says otherwise."

His fingers lingered at the crook of your knee. Softly, dragging up your thigh but stopping right before they could hit exactly where you wanted.

You whined, a high pitched, pathetic noise. "Spencer."

The look in his eyes lit you on fire. Tilting your head up, short breaths puffing from your lips. "Please."

His lips pressed against yours, tilting your neck up to meet his mouth. You groaned into his mouth, the noise silenced by his tongue dipping into your mouth. One hand brushed over your underwear, pressing into your clit lightly, the other gripped into your waist. Bringing you to the edge of the desk, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. At his mercy.

It was torture, the feather light touches giving you only a second of relief. He was smirking, the slight stubble that had grown in scratching at your chin.

At your wits end, you bite into his bottom lip. Teeth sinking into the skin and pulling back lightly. The two of you breathing in the others mouth, minty remnants coat your tongue.

"I swear to God Reid." You panted, hips bucking upwards into his fingers, "You are driving me crazy."

"I'm driving you crazy?" He scoffed, "You came in, wearing that tiny skirt. Basically bent over in front of me, then flashed me your wet panties, all while I was teaching." His tongue darted out, licking a long stripe up the column of your throat.

"Hotch's orders." You gasp, hand digging into his ragged curls and tugged him backwards.

He laughed, a mocking ring. "Oh I'm sure, I bet he told you to spread your legs for me. I wonder what he would say if I reported back? Huh babybird?"

The nickname out of his mouth had your head reeling, a complete opposite to the usual softness that came from Derek or Emily.

"I wonder what he would say, if I told him one of his best agents crumbled at the sight of me in a mini dress?" You shot back, hand cupping his now fully hard dick.

Finally, he pulled your panties down your legs. And slid them into his back pocket, his fingers slipping inside of you.

"Fuck Spencer!" You cried out, now fumbling at his belt. Clammy hands struggling with the buckle, arms falling weak as Spencer's fingers started to thrust in and out of you. A punishing pace, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Every press of his fingers had a loud squelch bouncing around the lecture hall. Twitching his fingers upwards, brushing your g spot and laughing at your body falling limp. You used him as a support beam, slumped over in pleasure. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your hair.

"Feel good baby?" He asked, voice turning soft.

"Mhm." You hummed, his fingers turning your brain to mush. "Close." You sighed into his chest.

"Good girl." He smiled, soft kisses peppered along the crook of your neck and collarbone.

The kind praise coming from Spencer of all people, had you hurling over the edge. Toes curling and hands desperately digging into his shoulder blades. Your thighs shook, clamping around his wrist tightly.

"Fucking hell." You sighed, breath warm on his ear as you pulled him into a soft kiss. It left your heart racing, almost exploding out of your chest.

You were holding on to him like a lifeline, he was holding onto you in a similar vein. His belt buckle clinked, pants pooling at his knees, before sliding into your warmth.

Still sensitive from a moment ago, your lips dug into your lip as he began to gently thrust. It was tender, a gentle rocking in and out. Soft strokes pulling through your hair. Smooth hands trailing up your spine.

It was almost too much. Too different. He wasn't being condescending, there was no mocking. Just sweet cooing in your ear that made you clench around him. Incoherent babbling of his name fell from your lips.

Then, he whispered your name. A gentle, soft noise that had you cumming around him. Stars bloomed behind your eye as you came, a whimpering moan falling from your lips.

He followed not long after you, pressing his forehead to yours. Chanting your name over and over, he released inside of you. A curl fell, sticking to him. He looked charming, you thought. Leaning down, he kissed you again, slow and languid.

It all felt too real.

"Um." You started, looking up at him. Pink cheeks and a shy smile, "Thank you."

"And thank you." He said, as he moved a fallen strand of hair away from your eyes.

"Can I have my panties back?" You bit your lip.

For a second, you just stared at him. Playing with your fingers, you started to giggle, and so did he. The laughter was infectious, everything was light. It was foreign, you weren't going at each others throats. There was no snarky comments, no corrections.

"Sure." He was smiling, not the smile he did when he was being polite. But the one when Penelope let him ramble about doctor who, or when JJ surprised him with a chocolate covered sprinkled doughnut.

He handed them to you, cool to the touch where they were still damp. There was a pool where his cum had dripped out of you. The desk under you, covered in him.

Shimmying them up your legs, more of him dripped out of you. You grimaced and he smirked.

"Shut up." You grumped, pouting slightly.

Suddenly, there was a rush of people outside of the hall. Another class period had ended. Had you really been in there that long?

"Right."

"Right." He echoed.

"I better head off, time to lure a murderer to my fake apartment." You joked, he didn't laugh. "Kidding."

Turning, you packed your bag and jogged up the stairs, hoping that he couldn't see the huge wet spot on your underwear. You'd never hear the end of it.

"Be careful." He called when you reached the last step with his hands in his pockets rocking back on his heels.

"I will."

----

Sometimes, you wished unsubs were less predictable. You had spotted Sarah two blocks away, she lurked around corners, hid behind signs and she thought the hat she had on was hiding her face.

As soon as you'd seen her, you messaged Hotch. By the time you reached the apartment block you'd seen three squad cars. The front entrance was propped open so she could follow you right on in.

And she did. Apartment 6B was on the third floor. When you got to the second the front entrance slammed closed. She was not far behind you now.

Anyone with eyes could tell no one lived in apartment 6B, it was bland as anything. The walls were stark white, all the furniture was drab grey. There was nothing personal at all. No photos on the walls, no trinkets sprawled on every surface.

You had left the door unlocked behind you, and dumped your bag on the boring, rough couch. Walking to the kitchen, you slid open the door by the sink. Your gun sat inside, exactly where Derek had left it. Him and JJ were in your 'bedroom', waiting for the signal.

A few seconds later, there was a knock on the door.

"Coming!" You called, sliding your gun into the waistband of your skirt and made your way to the door. "Sarah!" You gasped, then tilted your head, taking a pause. "How... do you know where I live?" You asked, furrowing your brows.

"You bitch!" She growled, immediately jumping at you. A knife that she had hidden behind her back at the ready. Now, that was an escalation.

Your hand gripped her forearm, trying to wrangle the knife from her grasp. The two of you crashed into the wall, the tip of the knife scratched against your shoulder. Dark blood stained your shirt.

"Sarah put the knife down." You pleaded, the air puffing out of your lungs as you fell to the floor. The coffee table's legs crashing under your back.

"You're a no good slut." Sarah lifted the knife, ready to strike down upon you. Derek and JJ came running out of the bedroom, guns drawn and shouting.

"FBI! Put the knife down!" Derek barked, moving in on her.

The crazed look in her eyes told you she wasn't going to relent. Scrambling back, you swept her legs out from under her. Her ribs crashed into your legs and the knife fell from her grip. It sliced your calf, the blood running down and turning your white sock red.

They moved in, yanking her off of your legs and pulling her arms behind her. Cuffs clinked as he read her, her rights. JJ rushed to your side, kneeling beside you.

"Are you ok?" She flustered, hand grasping onto your uninjured shoulder.

"I'm fine." You nodded, smoothing down your skirt. You hissed when her finger prodded at your leg. "Ow!"

She laughed lightly, "Cmon, there's an ambulance outside." She helped you up, supporting you as you hobbled down the staircase and out onto the street.

You get forced into the back of an ambulance, Hotch stood guard at the door. The paramedics started to pepper you with questions.

"Did you hit your head?" She shined a torch in your eyes, checking for signs of a concussion.

"No," You shake your head. "Just the slashes." You confirmed and slid your shirt off of your shoulder.

"Alright, you'll need a couple stitches in each one. We can do it here." She explained, starting to stitch you up. "You'll need to take it easy for a couple of weeks." She said, with a pointed glance towards Hotch.

You sat in the back of the ambulance, legs swinging as they processed Sarah.

"Hey." Spencer said, sitting down next to you. "I heard you got quite roughed up."

"I'm ok." You smiled, head resting on the side of the ambulance.

"Uh, I got you something." He coughed, rummaging around in his pocket and pulled out a red lollipop. "The sugar will be good for keeping your energy up after losing blood. It tricks your brain into thinking you're fine. Endorphins and stuff."

"It tricks your brain into thinking you're fine. Endorphins and stuff." You said at the same time, holding back a laugh at his face. "You said the same to Em when she got grazed two months ago."

"Do you memorise everything I say?" He smirked.

"Well if I didn't how could I be precise? Professor Reid." You batted your eyelashes at him.

"Don't." He warned with a finger waved in your face, clambering up from the back of the ambulance when he saw Emily walking your way. He gave a wave before heading over to the rest of the team.

Unwrapping the treat with a loud crinkle, you called out. "Spencer!"

He turned and raised his brows.

"Thank you!" Popping it into your mouth, as Emily sat down next to you.

"Since when do you call him Spencer?" She asked, eyes darting between you.

"Recent development." You shrugged, trying not to stare.

"We told you, you just needed to fuck it out." She smiled, bumping your good shoulder with hers. "Was it the dress? Cuz I'd so do you in that."

"Shut up." You grumbled, cheeks heating up. Going even more red as you locked eyes with Spencer.

"Babybird and pretty boy sittin in a tree." She whispered in your ear, then doubled over laughing after you jabbed your elbow into her ribs.

----

Someone had free time? Visit Spencer.

No cases? Investigate Mr. Scratch and a way to catch him up.

You, particularly you, were free? Cover someone up so they can do the things previously mentioned. 

You never visited him in prison since you didn’t feel like he wanted to see you—at the end, you had just known each other for less than six months. But you did what you could to support the team and protect them. You really tried your best to be of use to them, so as not to feel like a burden. Nothing else was on your hands; if you ever had the chance to go, you wouldn’t even know what to talk about with him being there. 

After everything came to an end, the bureau decided the team needed to rest, so the team took some weeks off. Everyone except you and Matt had left for a mandatory break. The routine was easier now—Garcia came once in a while to check on you, Matt was getting used to the unit, and you were missing the old routine in the office. 

When everyone came back shortly after Spencer was reinstated with the FBI, it got no better—that nodding became an almost imperceptible shake, ending with no more than a glare. 

So, you decided to do the same. If he was not going to acknowledge your existence more than necessary, why would you try to make any difference? At the end of the day, you both did not have to pretend you liked each other. 

But something grew up between you two—a kind of hate neither of you could explain. Every time you stumbled with the other, you had to make such a fuss out of it. Eyerolling, shoving the other’s shoulder. It got to the point that a war was declared; now it was Spencer’s personal matter to make your life the most insufferable possible, never in ways that interrupted your workdays, but in petty ways. 

Even when he used the same mug for years, the day he learned which mug you liked the most, he started to use it, only to spite you, and he knew—he knew well how easily he could make you angry.

On the field, he would never even let you finish a thought when he was already trying to end your idea and make it ‘better’. Everyone thought it was fun—both of you had a very different perspective and train of thought, and somehow always ended up having the same idea with a difference of one second, and every time ended with a snarky comment coming from either of you.

“You just need to try to work together,” Emily scolded Spencer.

“I’m not rude ever.” He pursed his lips.

“No, but you two are on each other’s throats every day. We can’t keep doing that.”

“I’m gonna try my best,” Spencer lied.

“Not try, do. Spencer, you’re basically her senior. You are the one who needs to set a precedent.”

He grunted and walked away.

The truth behind it was that you couldn’t even be in the same room without shouting at each other—everyone knew better than to keep you close unless you were on the field. In there, both of you were professional, cordial, and never interfered with a case, even when you wanted to rip the other’s head off.

But bump into each other in the kitchen? Federal Crime. 

It was almost like all the snarky comments and the daggers were saved for later, and as soon as he saw you in a non-public place, he would attack you, and you would respond immediately.

“C’mon, it will be fun.” Luke leaned on your desk while you were finishing some late paperwork. 

“I’m tired, and I need to rest.” You grumbled, “Besides that, you always leave me alone when a girl starts hitting on you…” 

He snorted a laugh, “It was just one time.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Let me think about it; I need to finish this, or Prentiss is gonna chew my ass.” 

You both knew that was certainly a yes, but you did not want to answer right away.

When you finally finished the paperwork, you started to walk to Luke’s desk just to notice Spencer was standing next to it.

“Oh, this is gonna be so much fun…” Luke snorted.

The implication made you gag. “I’m not going if he’s going—”

He rolled his eyes.

“Guys, please. Just this one night, you don’t even have to interact, and I will drive both of you home.” 

“Fine.” You growled and walked to Luke’s car.

At the bar, and just like you anticipated, Luke left your side after forty minutes to talk to a girl. You sighed and stayed at the bar; you didn’t even notice where Spencer was—as if it could make any difference. He would have made fun of you for believing in Luke's word and left you stranded, too. 

You were drinking on your own until a guy approached you. 

“Are you on your own?” A man asked. You nodded without even looking at him. “May I?” 

You saw him pointing to the empty chair by your side and nodded.

“How come a beautiful lady like you is alone?”

“Not alone; my friends are there talking with some girls.” 

“Oh, well, good to know now you have someone interested in you now.” 

“Yeah, but I’m the one who’s not interested, thank you.” You didn’t even bat an eye at him.

“C’mon, you seem like someone super interesting—let me treat you to a drink,” he said, placing a hand on your back.

You arched your back at the touch and made a disgusted face.

“I said no.” 

You looked him dead in the eyes. As you tried to stand up, the man took you by your wrist and held it hard enough to make you squirm. When your other hand found his wrist, you felt a second hand on your hip, and a second man appeared from behind. 

“What the fuck?” You said, looking at the second guy. 

“I saw my friend struggling a bit to convince you of that drink.” 

“Fuck off, dude.” 

You tried to shake the first guy's hand off, but the grip got harder; when you were about to make a whole scene, the second guy got pushed from behind—a broad body appeared.

Fucking Spencer Reid making his appearance as if he were a knight. 

“She clearly told you both to fuck off.” A raspy voice left his lips.

He was looking down at the man, his lips pursed just like he did when he was getting irritated in the field.

Had he always looked that good? 

“Go fuck yourself, man. This is not your business,” the man took you by your arm, and you squirmed again. 

No, no, no. 

You knew well the short temper Spencer could have when a jerk was testing limits. You knew how he had gone all Cell Block “D” on some of the unsubs or suspects he had encountered the last few months.

“Please—just let me go, he’s not—please.” You were making no sense, but the grip was hurting you, and seeing the fucking smirk on Spencer’s face got you in a chokehold 

“This is the last time I ask you to let her go.”

Spencer took a step further, and you were able in that moment to take his hand off you when both men locked eyes with him. 

“Please, Spencer—don’t do this—you got the bureau on your ass, and the team won’t be able to be without you if they bench you again.” You pleaded while you gripped his shirt. He scoffed a laugh and fixed his eyes on you.

“You just pulled out your gun on me last week because of a fucking yogurt, and now you say you all need me?” 

“It's not because of me, idiot,” you muttered, “it’s for the rest of them…”

He chuckled and looked directly into your eyes—you had never paid attention before to how deep the honey in his eyes was. “Are you gonna miss me?” he pouted.

You groaned as a response; he didn’t even care anymore what you had to say, but before you could say anything else, you heard one of the guys there mocking you.

“A fucking gun? Don’t make me laugh.” One of the men said with a smug smile on his face. 

Spencer was never the one who bragged about his gun, but a swift move made the gun on his waist flash. It was obvious he did it with the full purpose of showing it off. 

The closest guy took a step back, while the other tried to widen his chest, making himself bigger at the sight. Spencer smirked and took a step closer to them. 

You started to hop over Spencer’s broad body, trying to see your surroundings. 

“What are you doing?” He looked down at you.

“Looking for fucking Alvez. If you’re not paying attention to me, at least I know you will listen to him.” 

When you spotted him, you pushed him aside and ran directly to Luke—you took him by his collar and made him walk.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Fucking Spencer is about to get in—” a glass shattering sounded across the bar, “that—”

Luke saw Spencer pinning a guy to the wall and ran to him. 

“Reid, let him go—It’s time to leave.”  

“C’mon, man. We were only joking around—” 

“Fuck off, I’m taking a taxi.” You said that as soon as you saw Spencer was not even reacting to Luke’s voice. 

You were now on the street waiting for a taxi when you heard Spencer’s voice coming from the threshold, “Look, she is all talk; she wouldn’t leave.”

“I’m still waiting for the fucking taxi, idiot.” 

“C’mon. We will take you home.” Luke took you softly by your wrist, but it still burned from the earlier friction.

When Spencer saw your bruised wrist, he was about to go back to the club, but Luke stopped him by the shoulder. 

“Let’s get her home—she’s tired, she’s bruised and needs to rest,” Luke sighed, “We will check those bruises there.” 

“And what was that fucking shitshow there?”

“Well, you weren’t comfortable right there, and those guys were crowding you.” 

“But you hate my guts,” you said before he made you walk to Luke’s car.

“I don’t hate your guts—” you raised an eyebrow, “the fact that I’m not fond of you does not mean I hate you. And even if I did. I would be the only one hating on you, not a pair of fucking pricks who know shit about you.” 

“Get into the car before I leave you both here,” Luke said. Getting in, Spencer opened the car door and threw it at you before you could even say thank you. 

You fell asleep on the way to your house; you didn’t even realize when it happened. Spencer and Luke were talking nonsense, and your mind decided it was not worth listening to.

“Man, can you wake her up?”

Spencer sighed and walked to your door. He opened the door slowly, and as softly as he could, he touched your shoulder.

“Hey, we are—”

A punch. 

You punched him as a reflex before you could even comprehend what just happened. Your hand landed hard right in the middle of his face—right in the nose. You were almost sure you heard a crack when the punch landed.

“Fuck, fuck, stupid Reid, why would you wake me up like that?!” You started moving your hands out of nervousness. 

Luke snorted a loud laugh before stepping out of the car to check Spencer, “Like what, you weirdo?!” 

You really felt guilty; you knew well the banter between you and Reid had no place for something like that—you would never punch anyone… who didn’t deserve it, and at this moment, Spencer didn’t deserve it. 

The three of you hurried to your apartment to clean the wound and assess it. 

Luke couldn’t stop laughing while Spencer dropped his head down to make the blood slip through his nose. 

“God—let me bring the first aid kit—Luke, do you need a drink? I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. A drink would be nice.”

“And me?!” Spencer said with offence in his tone.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re the whole reason we are in this situation.” 

“You were the one who punched me!” 

“You were the one who made a whole fuckin scene in the bar! I was in fight or flight mode.” 

Spencer was about to answer when you threw a frozen veggies bag in his direction, and he caught it in the air. 

“You’re insufferable,” he said, putting the bag on his face, “now I have to explain a black eye and a probably broken nose tomorrow.” 

“Dramatic.” 

You brought Luke a whiskey; he sat on a small table you had, and Spencer was still on your couch, resting from the injury. 

You took your shoes off and went to check Spencer. His nose was definitely not broken, but it was not going to be pleasant to have it in that state. Luke got closer to you, too, and smirked at the sight of you being that close to him.

He was always telling the rest of the team that you too only needed to blow off some steam, and it was either literally fighting, or fucking—guess you chose the first. 

“There’s no way they like each other,” JJ said, tilting her head. “I think she would prefer to be buried alive than spend ten minutes with him.

“I already told you, they have two options, they either make out or fight it out,” Emily chuckled. “Twenty bucks says they are gonna make it out.”

“Nuh uh, forty bucks that she is gonna end up beating the shit out of Reid.” Emily looked at Luke, and they sealed the deal with a handshake.

“Are you both really betting on your coworkers' very questionable relationship?” Garcia chimed in; JJ, Emily, and Luke nodded. “Fine, I have a better bet: she is obviously gonna punch him hard, but like hard—and after that they are gonna make out.” 

“How much?” JJ seemed interested. 

“Fifty…” Garcia said very confidently, and just then, JJ chimed in too. 

//

“I think we should get going—Spencer needs to rest, and you, too, should rest.” 

You nodded. Luke was about to hand you the glass when Spencer made a sudden move that threw you off, and you dropped the glass and stepped directly on a shard of glass. A bloody scream left your mouth. 

“Fuck—I’m sorry,” Spencer said, getting closer to you, “stop moving your feet!” 

He gripped your hip to make you steady and then made you sit.

“God, let me see your foot,” Luke leaned while checking the cut on the skin, “oh. That’s gonna make it difficult.” 

“Is it that bad?” He shook his head, “Then?” 

“There’s one right at the center and one on your foot’s sole—it’s gonna be hard to walk for a few weeks—let’s get you cleaned to check it better.” 

Spencer cleaned up your bloody foot as Luke made sure there were no more glasses on the floor.

“Yep, that would be a pain for some weeks.” You groaned. 

Spencer looked at you, all blood-stained, and then bit his inner lip, “I think I will stay for the night.”

Luke looked directly at him with his mouth agape.

“What did you just say?” You asked, almost offended.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself—you’re not gonna be able to walk on your own, and Luke can’t stay because of Roxy.” 

The three of you sighed. He was right. 

“Please, please, don’t kill yourselves just tonight. We will arrange something with the team, and we will take care of you until you can at least walk without limping out.” 

Luke helped you limp out to the bedroom—you sat on the mattress looking at your injured and now bandaged foot. Spencer knocked on the door. He was still on the threshold waiting for you to make him come in.

“Hey… Uh, don’t sleep on the living room couch, it’s horrible for the back—” you tilted to the sofa you had in front of your bed, “that’s a sofa bed, you can stay there—and I have some new shirts and pajamas in that drawer there, they are all new and washed.” 

You didn’t quite understand how the dynamic was going to work, at least for the night, but you weren’t going to be rude to him. You both acted like idiots the whole night, and these were the consequences of your actions. 

“Thanks, can I hand you something? Or do you want to take a shower? I—I don’t want to make it weird—only want to uh, you to feel comfortable.” 

You nodded, “The drawer next to that one, there’s pajamas there, you can throw them at me, and you can get changed in the bathroom.” 

After what seemed a painful eternity, he came out from the bathroom and sat on the couch; you both were completely confused about what the next step was. 

“I—I want to apologize, I’ve been an asshole this year…” He said quickly, and your mouth fell open. “You were nice to me, even before what happened with the prison thing, but I was struggling with my mother’s Alzheimer's getting worse and then better—a whole rollercoaster—then, Morgan left, Hotch went into WITSEC, and I felt I couldn’t handle having a newbie and be fond of her—”

He sighed before continuing.

“Then prison, Cat Adams, my mother being kidnapped by her—Stephen’s death, it’s been—horrible, and I guess I didn’t want to make more friends, and you were so nice, it made me so angry irrationally, you know? And then—I started to be petty to see if you would stop.”

“And I did.” 

“And you did. And I felt like an idiot, but I couldn’t backtrack then.” 

“You could have backtracked, you know it, right?” You chuckled.

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t want to. It was funny to see you all angry.” 

You both chuckled. 

“I’m so sorry for everything you went through these last years—nothing of it was your fault.”

“Nor yours, and I was an idiot—I’m sorry.” You smiled. 

“Apology taken.” 

“I think it’s time we go to sleep; this is getting too intimate too soon.” You joked; you could feel the heat on your cheeks, and that was something you didn’t expect to feel about Spencer. 

Early in the morning, Luke called you to let you know he would go earlier than expected to take Spencer to his apartment to get ready. He helped you as much as he could to get ready, and when Luke arrived, you were ready.

The arrival at Quantico was pathetic; you were limping out with Luke on your side, holding you tight, while Spencer had a very notable black eye and a cut on the middle of his nose. 

“What the hell happened to you two?” JJ's voice was almost scared. 

“Who won the bet?” Garcia chimed in; Luke threw daggers at her, and JJ chuckled.

“What bet?” Spencer asked curiously.

“Answer our question first… Are you two okay?” 

“Two completely different instances, but we are fine.” You said with shame; they looked at each other without believing it much. 

“Let me take her to her desk,” Spencer said, and, grabbing you by your hip, you rested your arm on his shoulder.

You both walked through the elevator, leaving all of them at the reception. When the doors closed, JJ and García looked back at Luke.

“What the hell happened?” JJ shouted.

“What, what?” Emily ran on her heels, “Did I just see Dr. Spencer Reid holding our baby SSA by the hip?” 

Everyone nodded.

“So, at this point—Emily has won, ‘cause yesterday she punched him hard on the nose, but—apparently they made amends at night—because, yes. Spencer Reid spent the night at her house.”

“God! Oh my stars!” Garcia started to jump out of happiness, “No. I demand more time—by the end of the month, they are gonna kiss, and we all know it.” 

“Fine—but we all know that if they stepped this further in just one night, it wouldn't take that much,” Emily said before walking to the elevator.

Back in the bullpen, you were sitting at the desk where Spencer had left you to bring coffee.

“How’s your foot?” Spencer put your coffee down on your desk; you looked up, and he still had your mug in his hands.

“I thought you were going to stop being a jerk with me.” 

“I never said that; I said that I feel bad for doing it,” he smiled, “and besides that—I now like your mug; I’ve been using it for months now, and I like it.” 

You chuckled and shook your head.

“How’s your foot doing by now?”

“My foot is fine—still hurts, but it is not bleeding anymore.”

“Uh—do you want a ride when we are done?” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that would be nice, only if you’re okay with that.” 

“I think I owe you a lot more than just some rides back home.” 

“It’s fine, Spencer. I understood why you acted like that—it’s valid.”

He shook his head and knelt in front of you.

“Don’t ever say that again; it was not valid. You were nothing but good to me.” He was about to start a tirade when Penelope’s heels echoed through the bullpen.

“Guys,” Penelope walked in, interrupting, “New case.”

When you got to the briefing room, he sat next to you, something you both had never done since it always led to childish discussions.

When the case was finally explained, and everyone was getting ready to leave, Emily pointed at you.

“With that injury, you’re a liability on the field. You’re staying here with Penelope.” She paused, “And since Spencer’s the one who’s been so attentive, he’s staying with you.”

Both of you were about to start arguing with her, but she just cocked an eyebrow. Both of you lifted your arms in surrender. You knew better than to try to fight back her decision. This was partially a liability protection, but more, a punishment for the way you both had acted last night.

The night caught up, and the case was slow; no clues were leading to anything.

“Garcia, go to sleep. We will call you if we need something.” Spencer patted her back when she was bobbing her head, almost falling asleep.

“No. I need to be here.” She intervened.

“We will call you if something’s needed. We will keep an eye here.”

She pouted, but Spencer made her stand up.

“Are you two gonna be okay?”

“We won’t kill ourselves, I promise.” You told her from your chair.

“C’mon, you too. I’m taking you home, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” Spencer walked to you and offered his hand to help you stand up.

You nodded while you steadied yourself on his arm, and you felt his hands gripping your waist. You didn’t want to admit it, but you felt some kind of heat brewing inside.

“I’m trying my best to make it fair… Do you want to have dinner with me, and then I’ll drop you off at your house?”

“Spencer… that’s not necessary, I promise.”

“I know, I want to.” He helped you get in the car. You furrowed, “Please.”

“Fine… I think we can do it and be near if anything happens.”

“Something else I could offer you or your wife, Sir?” The waiter spoke to Spencer and your cheeks heated immediately.

“We are all fine. Thank you so much, just the check.”

The way he spoke so sternly and softly took you out immediately. It was a Spencer you had never seen—you knew the Agent, the one who could beat the shit out of a man if he talked wrongly to any of you, you knew your coworker who got on your nerves every day… but this man in front of you was someone who made you forget everything you knew about him.

“Are you okay?” He snapped you out of your mind, and you just nodded.

“All fine, Reid.”

After dinner, you were already walking back to his car—the dinner had been almost mute as neither of you knew exactly what kind of conversation you two could hold after months of fighting.

When you got to your house, he helped you walk in and waited for you on your doorstep.

You knew he was going to head back to the office, and you didn’t want him to spend the night there. The beds at the quarters were hell, and everyone knew it.

“Reid… Do you wanna stay for the night? It’s closer and… then you don’t have to spend the night at the office…”

“I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Spencer, you spent the night yesterday; I think we have stepped out from the uncomfy stage by now.”

You walked slowly to the side and made him walk in. After he got changed into something borrowed from your drawers, he sat on the couch with you already in your pajamas.

“Since you need to be awake for the night, what about some good movies? I promise I can let you pick from my wide selection on Netflix.”

He chuckled and nodded, “I guess commercial movies with no real meaning would make it for the night.”

“I heard you hadn’t watched Twilight…” You smirked, and the furrow in his eyebrows made you crack a laugh. “It’s gonna be so much fun. I promise…”

By half the second movie, you were already falling asleep on Spencer’s shoulder while he rambled about how the movie didn’t even make sense; he hadn’t noticed you were already surrendering into falling asleep.

He moved slightly, hovering his arm over your shoulders to make you lean closer to his side. You were half asleep but looked up at him

“Look at you, you can even be nice…” You mumbled.

“I’m nice… You just get on my nerves…” He smiled and looked down, tugging you closer to his side.

You chuckled, “I literally don’t do anything…” You felt the heat crawling up to your cheeks yet again.

“You look pretty flustered.”

“I’m not flustered…”

“Oh, you are… Your cheeks give you away.” His finger circled your cheeks, and you bit your inner lip.

“It’s just that I’m tired…”

“Oh, is that the reason also why you got all flustered when the waiter called you my wife?”

“Well, I was hoping you were going to correct him… I’m far from a wife to you.” You looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow.

Something in the air changed, and before any of you could backtrack, he was already all over you. His hands cornered you on the couch as his legs made space for him in the middle of yours. His lips felt rough at the touch; his movements were clumsy, like he didn’t have much experience. Your hands fell on his hair, pulling him closer.

“This is really happening?” You mumbled between kisses.

“We can stop it—” His voice came ragged, and you pulled him back into the kiss.

Then, you pushed him to the couch and crawled to his lap, sitting on top of him. You took his hands and placed them on your waist. You lifted your shirt and set free your not-so-flattering bra, but he stared at your breasts as if they were made out of gold.

He was appalled—his eyes were locked on them as his hands gripped your waist, like if he were trying not to touch them.

“Spencer… you can touch me…” You cupped his chin and made him look at you, but his eyes showed something else. “What’s going on?”

“I think… I think I can’t do it… I… don’t have much experience.” You chuckled. “Don’t laugh at me… It’s not like many women get interested in a genius who just rambles…”

You rolled your eyes, “You better be joking…”

“I’m not joking!”

“Spencer… Look at you… From what I’ve gathered, you were handsome before… You are handsome… and after prison… this ragged, beaten man who came from it… I’ve seen how girls in other departments or in PD see you…”

He furrowed, “So you been noticing that?” You grunted and tried to stand up, but his hands held you on his lap.

“Don’t… Just… I just don’t want to make it wrong…”

You pursed your lips, “Are you sure you want this?”

He nodded, and you smiled. Sitting still on his lap, you leaned and started kissing him again; your tongue opened his mouth slightly, finding his. He let a small moan out of his lips, while his hands found your cheeks and steadied you close to him.

Carefully, you placed your hand between you two and unzipped his jeans, setting his cock free. Without taking your eyes off his, you started to jerk him off. His mouth fell open, and a sharp intake of breath left his lips as he pooled in your hand. You dragged your hand up and down, and he was not even able to think about the implications this whole situation could bring to your workplace—he could only focus on the way your eyes looked at him with hunger, how your soft hand felt as you pleasured him.

Never in his life did he think he would have you on top of him, making him feel like this—and there you were, with your focus solely on him, like he was the only thing you could ever want to see.

You finally stopped your ministrations and stood up. Taking his hands, you helped yourself get rid of your clothes; he looked at you while you used his hands to get yourself naked. He was completely surprised by the way you had taken all the control over the situation. You kneeled in front of him and from there, he knew he was in trouble—there was no way he could handle you and be triumphant about it.

You helped him to get rid of his sweats, and your eyes fixed on his throbbing cock. To your surprise, he was big… The kind you knew it was going to hurt, and at that point, you didn’t care. You were not even sure what had led you to all this, and you were not about to start questioning anything. You took it softly, but he placed his hand over you.

“No… Please… I… don’t think I’m gonna last if you do that…”

“Where’s that cocky Spencer who’s been giving me hell?” He shook his head in defeat.

“Far away from here…” You scoffed a laugh and stood up, sitting again on his cock.

“You take all the fun.” Fighting your urgency, you placed yourself on top of his cock, not sinking on it yet. Just leaving the tip to kiss your slit.

“Now you’re doing it on purpose.” His nails dug in your skin as you hovered on his cock.

“Certainly…” When you finally rocked your hips to let him bury into you, your head tilted to his shoulders, and a gasp left your mouth.

He started to slam from below, splitting you open, pushing himself in you—you felt completely dizzy as the aching feeling on your cunt spread through your body. He captured your lips in a kiss as he tried to distract himself from the rush of heat he was feeling; his mouth kept devouring you feverishly, like it was the only thing he could do right in the moment.

The air grew thicker as you moaned on his mouth, his sweaty body got you in a chokehold—he looked so exposed at that moment—and you could only focus on his twitching cock bullying your cervix in a way no one had done before.

Maybe it was the fact that you knew he was so under you at that moment after months of him teasing, fighting, getting on your nerves. Maybe it was the sangy taste of his sweat on your lips, or the musky smell that filled your lungs, but you knew you didn’t want to finish this and start the weird stage of “what’s next now?”

A mumbling on his mouth and the way his legs spasmed made you grind slower.

“I… I need to cum…” He begged, and you clenched at his words; this made him thrust harder. “Please…”

You nodded and took his mouth again, swallowing any word that came from his mouth. He finally twitched inside you and released warm ropes of cum inside you. You knew you were going to regret doing this, but at this point, writhing over him, with his spill in you, you didn’t care much about the aftermath.

You were about to stumble into him when he leaned you on his arm, creating a small space between you—enough space to slide his hand and start circling your clit.

You rolled your eyes and let yourself loose on his arm. He knew exactly what he was doing, what spot to touch in a way no one had even thought of.

“Did you know,” he circled the soft nub again, “this single spot has almost ten thousand fiber nerves?”

You were not even thinking straight; you just nodded at his words.

“And a fingertip only has approximately three thousand… So, something small can create enough friction to make you cum only by touching this…”

You hated him.

You hated every time he started to ramble about scientific facts, and he knew it. He was doing this just to annoy you as he gave you the greatest orgasm you had ever felt. You finally came undone. You were still clenching around his cock as he tugged you into his chest.

“You’re an asshole.” You mumbled breathlessly;0 he smiled and kissed the crown of your head.

You were already dozing off when a phone started to ring; he scoffed and leaned with you on his body.

“I knew we shouldn’t have left the office…” He took the first phone he could reach and answered.

“Reid here.” You were still resting on his chest, even when you knew that call meant that you two needed to rush to the office.

Emily chuckled on the other end of the phone, “I’m not gonna ask why you answered her phone; I’m just gonna ask you two to go as soon as possible to the office.”

Reid’s color left his face, and when you overheard, you turned your head just to notice he had taken your work phone instead of his.

“Fuck,” you mouthed, and he tilted his head back.

“On our way.”

He finally withdrew you from his cock and helped you stand up.

“We can solve all this later…” He towered over you and stuck a hair strand behind your ear. “But… I don’t think I can pretend this meant nothing.”

“Neither do I…” You looked up at him, “So…”

“We can call a truce… for now.”

“I can accept a truce.”