honeyy.

Coffee brews in the machine, a light noise in the busy station, and your fingers lightly tap against the keyboard in front of you, eyes fixated on the computer screen; emails, appointments, complaints, and all of the above flood in. You sigh quietly to yourself.

It’s a busy morning at the office, nothing new. Being the receptionist was something you should’ve been grateful for. Your dad, being close to Beau, snagged you the job easily; a 9-5 during the summer, a good place to make cash, and it was nice knowing the Sheriff, too.

“You likin’ the job, sweetheart?” a familiar voice drawls, a distinct Texan accent that has you looking up from the desk, and up at the man speaking to you; Beau, a friendly grin curved into his lips, his eyes narrowed and gazing down.

“Yeah… yeah, it’s great, thank you,” you nod quickly and fold your hands in your lap like you’ve been caught doing something. He smiles and taps the desk, looking over his shoulder.

“Need to see you in my office later,” he slips in with a little nod, noticing the expression drop. “Nothin’ bad, darlin’, don’t worry,” he shakes his head, tapping the desk one last time before carefully turning on his heel, his cowboy boots heavy on the tile floor.

Your eyes watch him disappear to check more on the office, flirting it up with a woman who is giggling too loudly for your liking, and an older man who isn't too fond of the new sheriff. You sigh quietly to yourself and look back at the screen, gazing at the mail you have to sift through and the responses you have to type out. Getting to stare at Beau makes it a bit easier; that’s what you tell yourself.

The morning drones on and bleeds into the afternoon, your hand quickly typing and answering phone calls, using that customer service voice that always makes Beau laugh when he walks by and hears it. He’s heard that voice at the dinner table before, and it sounds nothing like the one you use when you pick up a call and have to act like you really care about a complaint about the city. You merely write it on a sticky note, and Beau discards it just as quickly as you wrote it.

“Hello, this is–” you say softly into the phone, and it’s just a laugh across the line.

“No need to be talkin’ like that, just head in my office, sweetheart,” he mutters across the phone, swiftly hanging up the phone before you can respond. 

You peek up and over the desk, eyes gazing at the glass office he’s in; holding papers, shuffling through them, and you slowly stand on your feet, adjusting your skirt. You’re not used to office attire–the skirts and the thighs, the blouses and button-ups, or the short heels. You’re the face of the place–that’s what Beau tells you, since most people see you right as you walk in. It only added more stress in the morning when you’re curling your hair and choosing the right lipstick.

“You wanted to see me?” you mumble softly at the open door, and he looks up at you through his furrowed brow, grinning and gesturing for you to come inside fully.

“Yeah, yeah, come on,” Beau mumbles, waving for you to come in again before looking at the door behind you. “Shut it, I don’t mind,” he shakes his head, and you nod, carefully shutting the door of the office.

“What is it?” you ask softly, taking a seat on one of the chairs in front of his desk. He leans back in the leather chair, the seat groaning the more weight he applies to it, and he rests his hands in his lap, his head tilting to the side.

“Tonight…” he starts quietly, lifting a hand to rub over his scruff. “Sheriff’s gala type of thing, you know? Officials, representatives, all of that stuff,” he continues, nodding, rocking slightly in the chair before he looks at you. “You busy tonight?”

“No… no, I’m not,” you shake your head quickly and sit up straight, noticing a grin curl into his lips, and he clicks his tongue.

“Then you’re comin’ with me,” Beau concludes, nodding and sitting up straight, too. “Eight o’clock, can pick you up. How’s that sound?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, a knowing look in his eyes.

You sit there with those wide eyes and lips parted, quickly nodding to the idea; basically being his date at a silly gala, being the only two to represent the sheriff’s office in the county, and you get to stand there with him. Part of you is saying it’s because he knows you; you’re his best friend’s daughter, your dad probably negotiated with him, setting up this whole thing to make you feel good about having a ‘big girl job’, and another part of you is saying it’s attraction. Beau Arlen wouldn’t mind having a young thing around his arm at a gala. Yeah, right.

“Yeah.. yeah, that’s perfect, I’ll be ready at eight,” you grin nervously and nod, looking back down at his desk and files he has to work on. You stand up and smile, biting your lip as you leave the office and head back to your little spot behind reception.

Beau’s eyes followed you when you turned around; that stupid, tight skirt and those tights, the heels that click and make it obvious that you’re the one refilling the coffee pot, or walking back in after grabbing coffees at the cafe down the road. You were the only one that dressed like that in the office, and he almost feels guilty for telling you that it was casual–most women were wearing pantsuits and basic clothing, and here you had dressed up. 

You didn’t mind it, not at all. It felt nice getting dolled up and getting a few compliments from young officers as they walked in, talking to you and acting like you were the best part of the damn day. It was even better when Beau straightened them up, glaring at them, telling them how unprofessional it was to flirt on the job. Maybe that’s why you have no issue dressing that way.

“You excited?” Beau then drawls lightly as he passes by reception again, and you smile up at him, quickly nodding. He comes around here a lot more than he’d like to admit.

“Mhm,” you mindlessly mumble, glancing back down at the keyboard, your tongue between your teeth as you focus on typing out the email. He lingers, just watching.

You swallow hard, not fully understanding why he was just standing by there, watching your fingers type and write, trying to finish something. You glance up at him, and he just nods, quietly telling you to finish what you’re doing. You exit the tab instead, pretending the email was sent, and he smiles, nodding.

“Look at you,” he drawls, and you look away shyly. “Takin’ your job damn seriously,” he shakes his head, his hand adjusting his leather belt.

“Well… I have to be,” you shrug, adjusting your hips in the chair, and you notice those green eyes glance down, catching a glimpse of your bare thighs against the seat.

“Best worker in here,” he compliments, letting his tongue click. “You get the new thing installed yet? Sent out an email, darlin’.”

“What?” you ask softly and quickly use the mouse to open a new tab, immediately going to your email and not seeing his message. “No… no, I haven't, sorry, sir,” you shake your head, and he’s chuckling, moving around the desk.

“Nothin’ to be sorry bout’,” Beau says, his voice smooth and low, and he’s suddenly hovering behind your chair. “Can show you,” he offers, and you carefully put your hands in your lap, letting him take over.

Beau leans down and puts one hand against the back of your chair, the other one using the mouse. You glance down at his hand that engulfs the damn thing: thick fingers and a strong wrist, veins just below his tanned skin, a watch wrapped around his wrist, and your eyes travel along his forearm. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and you catch yourself peeking at his bicep before looking at the screen.

“See? Real easy,” he mumbles, and you realize how close he is to the side of your face, and you turn your head slightly; that slope of his nose, and his parted lips, the stubble he’s letting grow in now that it’s summer and he always seems to do that when it hits July.

“Thank you,” you mumble quietly, shamelessly staring at the side of his face now. It doesn’t help that he smells good too; all cologne and whisky, a heavy scent that trails behind him, so distinctly Beau Arlen, and you squeeze your thighs beneath the desk.

“No problem, sweetheart.” he shakes his head and stands up, lightly ruffling the top of your head. “Now you can organize all your stuff better, yeah? Makin’ things easier for you,” he mumbles, gesturing to the new thing he installed. He never sent an email out about it.

Your eyes are unfortunately eye-level with his groin as he stands directly beside you and you look up, nodding a little. His thumb hooks in behind the leather of his belt, and he fixes it slightly, standing there and gazing at the view you have; most of the office, people with their heads down, or other officers, doing their thing. He gazes down at you again, and almost curses the sight; your face by his thick thighs, that innocent look.

“Will see you at eight, darlin’,” he dismisses with a little nod, slowly leaving you at reception, and he feels a warmth pooling in his stomach; it’s arousal, and he knows it, and he’s regretting the choice of bringing you to this gala.

There’s Diane, Claire, all the other workers in the office who would represent the branch better than some new receptionist who would be gone the second college starts up again. But he chose you, and now he’s stuck with having you for the rest of the night.

The dress you chose isn’t the best one in your closet; he didn’t tell you the formality of it; just eight o’clock, and he already knew where you lived. Summer nights were spent in your backyard, Thanksgiving at your dinner table. He was around your house more than you can even remember.

“I don’t know,” you mumble to your mom as you stand in the mirror in the bathroom, and she’s hooking a piece of jewelry around your neck. “What if it’s casual? And I look like this…”

“Sweetheart, it won’t be casual,” she shakes her head and puts it on you, her eyes gazing down at the dress. “It’s a gala; people get pretty dressed up for it,” she shrugs, taking a step back, and smiling softly. Her daughter, all grown up.

“Mr. Arlen didn’t say,” you mumble again, looking at the dress, swallowing hard. “What if he thinks I look stupid? Like, either really underdressed, or overdressed,” you stress, sighing heavily, looking at your mom who is smiling.

“It’s Beau,” she says plainly, gesturing with her hands. “Sweetest man on earth, best friend’s with your dad… he is not going to be worried about what you’re wearing, honey,” she reassures, patting your bare back where the dress is slit. You nod.

“I know, I’m just nervous,” you shrug, adjusting the straps, and your mom licks her lips, glancing out of the bathroom window, noticing the familiar vehicle.

“No time for nerves; he’s here,” she grins, nodding towards the window, and your eyes widen.

The front door opens, and you immediately hear your dad and Beau laughing downstairs, their deep chuckles echoing through the house as they pat each other on the back and embrace in silly hugs. Your mom is nodding, telling you it’s time to go down, and you swallow hard, preparing yourself for the inevitable. 

Beau turns his head when the wooden stairs creak, and he sees you there: the loose dress, though tight in the right places, your hair looking a lot different than the way you usually wear it to work, your shoes that click just a bit louder than the ones in the office, and his lips part. He has to hide the reaction, especially when your dad is just inches away.

“Jesus Christ, how old are you!” your dad howls, gazing at his little girl, who suddenly looks like she's grown up ten years in just one hour. You bite your lip and hit the final step, and Beau is merely in awe.

“Shut up,” you shake your head at your dad, looking up at Beau, who can only smile at you, blinking. You smile too, and he offers his hand for you to take.

“Keep her safe,” your dad tells Beau, and he nods, lightly holding your hand in his, like the two of you are going to a date, and not some gala that has rules and officers everywhere.

“Lookin’ real pretty, sweetheart,” Beau tells you as you walk along the walkway to his Land Rover, his hand holding yours, and you’re trying not to melt into a puddle. 

“Thank you,” you nod, the summer heat still relentless even when the sun went down.

You turn your head to compliment him, but he’s mostly in the same attire; those button-ups and jeans, but his hair is nicer, gelled and in place, his beard trimmed slightly, and he changed his belt. He also has his badge on, and you bite your lip, knowing it’s probably not appropriate to point out how handsome he looks. You wish that you could.

The drive down to the place is quiet, just a soft hum from Beau’s radio. Your eyes refuse to look at him, especially with how he looks right now—fucking good. And he’s more than aware that you do too, and he swallows hard, adjusting himself in the seat.

“Might be a little intimidatin’,” Beau warns as he turns into the busy parking lot, his eyes looking over at you. “Might ask who you are… what you do in the office, that kinda stuff,” he explains, his voice deep in the car.

“Why? Am I supposed to… mean something to the office?” You ask, softly laughing at the idea of a receptionist being the head sheifff, and he shrugs.

“Typically,” he starts, using one hand to reverse into a spot, his eyes looking behind. “It’s… someone who's been on the team for a while, not a fresh thing like you,” he teases, and you feel your stomach twist.

“Beau,” you mumble nervously, lips parting when you realize the awkward position he put you in. “I’m going to look like a fool when I explain I’m a receptionist, and not some… decade-old officer or something,” you explain, shaking your head.

“Hey… hey, easy,” Beau calms you down and reaches over, casually placing his palm on your knee. “Nothin’ to be worried about, I’ll do the talkin’, you just stand by me,” he reassures, tapping his thumb just above your knee.

You swallow hard and hesitantly nod, feeling a bit better about the situation, even if you know how stupid it’ll sound if someone asks you something, and you admit that you’re a summer intern, and nothing more. He steps out of the vehicle, and you follow suit.

Beau grabs your hand again, keeping you close to him as you walk towards the large building; it’s lit up like a damn ball, and others file in as well, most officers wearing their uniform or some variation, and the women with them—their wives, or another woman keeping their distance, clearly a coworker. And here you are; a fucking receptionist, decades younger than the man beside you. You bite your lip.

“Arlen!” A voice calls the second the two of you step in, and you look over; a group of men, all sharing glasses of booze, laughing it up and waving him over.

Beau casually moves his hand from yours and slides it behind you instead, lightly cradling your lower back, his thumb rubbing against the little dip. Your cheeks burn slowly as you stroll over to the men, and he has that classic grin on his face. 

“And who the heck is this?” One of the men coos, and you subconsciously shuffle closer to Beau, who is smiling, laughing at the way the men gaze at you–but his look becomes protective when he realizes the way they’re looking at you.

“My best worker,” Beau grins, giving them a nod, keeping you close. “Been at the station for months, best damn thing there is,” he nods again, gazing down at you; your cheeks are a soft pink, and they’re getting caught in the large light ahead.

“What she do, huh? Little thing like that ain't cut out to be an officer,” one of the men jokes, gesturing to you with a beer. You furrow your eyebrows, but Beau chimes in.

“Could be if she wanted to,” Beau defends, his eyes narrowing, and you can see the condescending look in his eye. “She’s a receptionist–does all my work, everythin’ you can do, she’s doin’ it better, and quicker,” he praises some more, squeezing your waist.

The men laugh and nod, taking long pulls of their beer, their badges glinting off their suits, and they glance back at the main stage where awards and speeches were to be given. You stay quiet and lean closer to Beau, and he pulls you in, welcoming you to cling to him.

“We’re gonna find our seats, see ya’ later,” Beau quickly dismisses and pushes by the men, guiding you towards the tables.

“They were odd,” you immediately mumble when it’s just the two of you, and he shrugs, taking you to the seats. 

“I know, darlin’,” he says quietly and carefully pulls out the chair for you.

You sit down and gaze at the little card in front of you; your name, written in a cursive font, your stupid occupation below it, and you smile, lifting it to examine. Beau looks at you, his eyes glinting at how proud you seem of the little slip, and pats your thigh through your dress.

“Very professional,” he drawls out in a sarcastic tone, leaning back into the chair beside you. “Lookin’ like you run the place,” he teases some more, and you roll your eyes, shaking your head. 

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, and suddenly a man comes by, pouring a glass of something.

“Fancy, yeah?” Beau asks, giving the waiter a little shake of his head, opting for the beer instead of the champagne.

“Yeah,” you agree and reach forward, taking a long sip of the alcoholic beverage; it’s bitter, and you make a face, and Beau shakes his head.

The two of you sit at the small table, and you’re taking small sips of the champagne, and he’s taking long sips of the beer. A few people take the stage, and the lights dim as announcements are made over the loudspeakers. You really didn’t expect it to be this fancy, and you glance over at Beau, who is gazing at the stage, his green eyes getting caught in the glare.

You finish off the drink and set it down, your eyes more so focused on Beau instead; his lips pulled into a grin, his teeth occasionally flashing when he smiles a bit bigger, and his large hands clapping together when there’s an announcement, someone he knows winning an award. He must’ve noticed your inability to look at him, because a warm hand finds your thigh, and he gently rests it against you, beneath the clothed table. Your eyes widen.

Your thighs naturally squeeze together, and his thumb just rubs over the warm skin, lightly dipping beneath the hem of your dress. It’s so casual that Beau’s other hand sips his beer, all while his other drifts up your dress until you’re shifting his hips. He pinches your thigh, and your eyes flutter, and you look away, trying to act casual. What is he doing?

The short ceremony is over, and this is where most people go to converse: chatting about their jobs, reuniting with old friends, catching up with people who switched stations, congratulating the award winners, and Beau is immersing himself in it all. All you can do is stand by his side as your rubs your waist, occasionally dipping down to rub the soft curve of your hip. He’s getting touchier, and you’re getting needier.

“Beau,” you mumble to him as the two of you stand in a group, a few men laughing and chuckling. “I wanna… go home,” you tell him softly, and he lightly smacks your hip when he hears your voice and request, glancing down at you.

“Haven’t even said hello to everybody, darlin’,” Beau says, shaking his head, pulling you into his side a bit more, and he feels the defiance; your slight restraint, your body tensing, and he looks down at you beside him.

“Can… we go to the car or something, at least, please,” you ask him again, and his eyebrows furrow, lifting a hand to run it through your hair casually. His eyebrows knit in concern, and he tilts his head to the side.

“What’s gotten into you, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, and he lightly pulls you off the side, taking you away from the other guests. “Not feelin’ good?”

“I feel fine,” you shake your head and stare up at him, your eyes innocent. “Just… I wanna be alone, with you for a bit,” you explain to him, nodding. He sighs, glancing to the front doors.

“Okay,” Beau relents, and he slides his hand away from your face, lightly gliding it down your neck and to your shoulder. He begins walking with you, his hand on your shoulder, rubbing as the two of you get into the dimly lit parking lot.

There’s a silence between the two of you as you wander outside, crickets buzzing in the bushes, and the light sound of music playing from the place. Some people had already left, leaving right when the ceremony was over, but quite a few still lingered, and Beau’s vehicle was alone now, desolate in the parking lot.

“It was the thigh, yeah?” Beau asks you quietly, and you freeze, your eyes glancing up to him. “Was jus’ tryin’ to calm you down, sweetheart, knew you were anxious bein’ here,” he explains, shaking his head.

“No–no… that’s fine, that’s fine,” you quickly say, shaking your head, and the both of you stand beside his vehicle. “I… I liked it,” you admit, gently biting your lip.

Beau’s eyebrows furrow. “Liked it?”

“Yeah… it felt… calming, nice,” you explain further, and you shift on your feet, looking up at him. His lips are parted, and he can only stare at you, the admission making something in his gut coil.

It’s reckless when he kisses you; he leans down, his warm lips finding yours, tasting of beer, and mixing with your lip gloss and champagne lips. You don’t even let him pull back; you just follow his lead, immediately letting both of your lips move and twist, a sweet tango of your tongues already finding each other, and you can hear Beau breathing, can feel his rough scruff against the hand you brought to cup his face.

His one hand holds your face, and the other one grips your hip, squeezing the soft plush of it through your dress, and he keeps you pressed up against the backseat door. You’re breathing heavier as he kisses and kisses, a hunger and devotion behind it you can't quite explain right now–it feels good though, and he’s pulling back and grabbing the handle of the backseat, nodding.

You pick up on the idea quicker than Beau thought, and before you can process it, the two of you are in the backseat of his car, dipping down onto the seats, hidden from anyone who may somehow stray away from their car and find the two of you. Your thighs are parted, and he’s between them, his thick hands that only ever hand you papers you need to copy, or money so you grab coffees for the office, are now up your pretty dress, groping at your bare thighs and hips, and your head is tipping back.

“Baby,” Beau breathes into your neck, his nose nudging at your ear, his hips lightly bucking; just denim pressing to the front of your underwear, and you moan softly.

“Beau,” you whine back, breathing heavier, panting.

“Can’t be too loud, darlin’,” he breathes out, kissing at your neck, and trailing down your shoulder. “Gonna suck on m’fingers, yeah?” he mumbles, and before you can think, his two fingers find their way past your lips, and you immediately moan around them, and he grins.

“See, sweetheart,” he groans into your neck again, panting down it, letting his warm breath cascade down the side of it. “Gotta be real quiet, baby… can’t be fussin’ back here.”

You lightly suck on his ring and middle finger, taking them into your mouth and letting your eyes shut. The consistent lapping of your tongue keeps him grunting and groaning, his hips mocking a thrust as he pushes himself between your thighs, reminding you of what’s to come; he’s gonna fuck you, right here in the backseat of his car.

“Mmm… been wet since noon, ain’t ya?” Beau teases, knowing he saw the way your thighs squeezed together in his office. “Bet you imagined this elsewhere… my office, huh? Bent over my desk… those fuckin’ skirts you wear, hiked up, huh? Not here,” he taunts slightly, and you moan around his fingers the more he grinds. 

Beau’s free hand slides down, and he cups your core through your underwear, feeling the dampness, the sticky residue that’s making him growl like a rabid fucking animal. He groans again, his scruff now pressing into your neck, and he’s losing all sense of control he’s ever had.

“God, you’re wet,” he breathes out, and he lightly rubs against your core, the friction making your head tip back, but his fingers following the movement keeping you gagged. “Poor thing, been wet all fuckin’ day, I bet,” he teases, and you nod, admitting that you had been.

“Just takes a few touches of my hand on your thigh, and you’re drippin’, all over your underwear… baby, c’mon,” Beau says, his tone mocking the sympathy he should be feeling for you, but he’s not; his chest is filled with pride, beyond thrilled that he managed to rile you up. He has ever since you came back from college.

Next comes his belt. His free hand is pulled away from your core, and he’s working on the thick leather belt, and it softly clinks around in the backseat, the metal catching itself in the moonlight that drools in through the car windows. You’re whining around his fingers, and he’s undoing his button and zipper, reaching down to take himself out of his tight jeans.

Your eyes widen; he pulls his cock out; long and hard, throbbing, and his hand is at the base of it, almost like he’s showing it off to you–he is; how can he not? He notices the flash of fear in your eyes, the way you whine around his fingers louder when the thought of that fitting sindie of you seemed damn near impossible. He chuckles, that low sound in the crook of your neck.

“It’ll fit, sweetheart, nothin’ to worry about,” he mumbles quietly, kissing behind your ear, panting again. “Got you… always got you,” he reminds you, and he pulls back a little, only to lean back in.

Two of Beau’s long fingers casually slide your underwear to the side, an urgent display. His green eyes narrow at it; the undergarments being polka-dots, a stupid pattern, like you didn’t expect this to happen. He shakes his head, groaning.

He leans forward, and his hard tip presses right in your folds. He growls too loudly, and you whimper, already feeling that little stretch, that sting that reminds you how big he really is.

“C’mon… brave girl, breathe in,” he commands quietly, and you breathe in through your nose, and that’s all he needs to begin to push in.

It’s almost painful as he glides in; you’re wet, you’ve been wet since work. And he groans, letting his forehead rest against yours, the intimacy only making you whine around his fingers louder. He slides them out of your mouth, instead capturing your lips.

The two of you make out again; this time it’s filled with grunts and groans, moans slipping into his mouth, and he’s thrusting now, letting your hips meet with every single rock. You shamelessly whine and whimper, and his one hand finds beneath your knee, hooking it up a bit, letting him drive himself deeper in you.

“Always… knew you could take me, sweetheart,” Beau groans out, your forehead connected, lips just brushing each other now. “Mhm… knew you were brave, yeah? C’mon, baby…” he moans, his hips never stalling, keeping up that solid rhythm.

You whine louder, and he bites down onto your bottom lip, stopping you from crying out too loud in the parking lot. He slides his other hand to your knee, and the position is obscene; he’s keeping your legs back, ensuring you’re as spread as you can be, and he’s just moving back and forth, sliding up again, letting your foreheads meet.

“Feels so good… wrappin’ around me like this, baby,” Beau moans, your noses brushing and bumping, and he’s nodding. “So… fuckin’ tight, so tight,” he murmurs, like he can’t help but tell you that.

“Beau,” you whine softly, and he grins, the sound like music to his ears. He nods.

“Right here, darlin’,” he groans, his words punctuated by harder thrusts. “All in this pretty body of yours, right?” He asks quietly, and you nod quickly, knowing you couldn’t deny it if you wanted; he’s got you fuller than you can imagine.

Beau doesn’t stop; he just goes quicker and quicker, harder and harder, and he’s still half-dressed—both of you are. Your dress is just hitched up, his shirt is still on, his jeans barely off him, just a hungry act you both are indulging in. 

“Feelin’ so good, ain’t ya?” He asks, staring at the blissed-out look on your face; eyes fluttering, lips parted, like you’re dizzy, maybe drunk off the sex. You are.

“So good,” you repeat, your voice a babble.

“Good… good girl, want you to feel good,” he tells you, nodding, your foreheads touching again. “Feels so good, baby… yeah? All stuffed n’ warm, tingly?” He asks, and your mouth hangs open, and you’re panting right into his.

It’s all sweat and warmth, two bodies moving together in sync, and his filthy words are making your stomach grow tighter and tighter, a familiar feeling you only ever get with your fingers. Now it’s because of Beau, and how fucking good he is.

“Wanna make you cum… gonna cum all over my cock, sweet girl,” he promises, and he doesn’t even need to—you were planning on it, and with how hard he’s pounding into you, forcing himself to hit places you didn’t know existed until you see stars bursting behind your closed eyes.

“Mhm—“ is all you can babble out, and he grins, both of you panting and groaning in sync, foreheads pressing against each other.

“Mmm… c’mon… do it f’me, sweetheart,” Beau encourages, and it’s not like you have to think twice; it happens, and it happens to him, too.

It’s at the same fucking time, like your bodies are on some wavelength only the two of you connected to; your back arches and he stops; he’s groaning, eyes shutting, foreheads touching, noses brushing, and a spill of moans dip into each other’s mouths, and all while he stays buried inside of you, letting it fill you, and fill you, and fill you.

It’s a clash between two people; you finishing, a wave of relief hitting you like it’s everything, and he’s releasing, too, keeping you stuffed at the same time. The pressure is enough to have you withering, and squirming, and he’s shaking his head, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Oh, god,” Beau groans, letting his hips stay locked in place, his cock stuffed inside of you. “Took me so fuckin’ well… still takin’ me well, so good, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing your cheek, nodding.

You’re dizzy, your head lolled back as he kisses at your cheek, his nose dragging along your face, his breathing heavy, his hands still holding your legs up to keep him as deep as possible. It’s an unforgettable feeling, you’ll feel it for days, you think; that pressure in your abdomen, how deep he is, how he’s twitching and throbbing.

“You’re okay… relax f’me, darlin’,” Beau breathes out, his hand leaving one thigh, letting it lower slowly, all while the other one rests over the plane of your stomach, rubbing. “So… full in here, so full,” he taunts, nodding.

He’s never been more right; it’s all you can feel; just him. It’s Beau; Beau you see at the station, in your backyard, at the dinner table, and now above you, panting and sweaty, buried inside of you, making you cum, and whine and whimper, and all you can do is stare at him and take more of it. 

you're aware of his size, having spent long enough gaping at his cock as it rests against his belly, and with all the time he's spent pumping one, two, then three thick fingers inside you to prepare you to be split open around him, you're sure you'll have no trouble fitting him inside you. yet he continues to worry and fret about the possibility of you getting hurt. "mmh! baby, i promise i'm fine, would you please just-"

he interrupts you this time by pulling out the three fingers that were just buried in you to the knuckle, and slapping his palm firmly against your sopping hole. the bastard smiles at the high pitched, whiny noise you make when he spanks your pussy.

higuruma rubs the heel of his hand against your swollen folds while pushing his thumb against your clit, lips quirking at the loud, pitchy noises leaving you in response. "we had a talk abut patience, remember sweetheart?" he says softly, letting out a huff through his nose when you squeal and squirt a clear spray of liquid all over his hand and yourself. some hits his face, and he casually licks it off his chin without taking his eyes off you, continuing to spank that sensitive cunt of yours until you're done.

"but you just don't care, do you?" he tells you quietly, finally lining himself up to you. "you want cock, so you must get it now." you whine as he wastes more time rubbing the flared, swollen, and leaking head of his cock back and forth along your puffy folds. your eyes flit between the look of concentration on his face and the way he’s smearing rivulets of precum around your hole, then suck in a breath when he taps his tip heavily against your clit.

your chest heaves as little wanton pants leave you each time he teases you by aligning his cock perfectly with your opening just to shift away from it and go back to rubbing against you.

you never thought he could be such a tease.

tears of frustration are threatening to spill from your eyes, and you sit up slightly, about to grab his cock out of his hand and push it in you yourself, before he beats you to it, finally notching just the thick head past your sopping hole.

harmonious groans leave both of you simultaneously as your pussy stretches around him to accommodate the intrusion of his tip. though he’s barely inside you, it’s already a struggle. it’s like he’s gotten bigger or you’ve gotten tighter since your last fuck, which hadn’t been for a while now because he’s been so busy. and now, you can hardly get the first few inches of his hefty cock inside you.

you sit up on your forearms, chest rising and falling heavily as the two of you break eye contact to both look at where your pussy is wrapped around his cock, folds swallowing up his length and sucking him in deeper. he lets out a soft hiss through his teeth, not wanting to lose his head and cum prematurely from the sight, but it’s so captivating.

higuruma lets out little pants, his hands now gripping your hips firmly to abstain from slamming into you like an animal. he's controlling both you and himself as his vision glazes slightly each time he sees your pussy clenching around him. you're milking and sucking at the part of his cock that's already filled you up.

"look at that," he groans, one hand sliding around to your front to press against your lower belly, feeling the bulge of his cock from the inside. "you're taking me so well already. i told you preparation would help."

the words send a shiver through you, and you whimper, trying to shift your hips back to take more of him. but he's got you pinned, using his grip on your hips to control every movement.

higuruma pulls back just slightly, then pushes back in, repeating the motion in shallow thrusts that make you squeal with need. each movement drags his thick tip over your inner walls, the ridge catching and pressing against sensitive nerves. You can feel every vein, every pulse of his cock as it fucks into you.

"higuruma please-" you gasp, "i need more."

he shakes his head softly, mouthing along the curve of your neck and shoulders. he lays nearly on top of you, pressing hot kisses to your skin as his thrusts begin to pick up speed. "i'm getting there. just let me... fuck, just let me enjoy this."

the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies joining fill the room as higuruma finally begins to move in earnest. each thrust is deep and deliberate, intended to make you feel every thick inch of him as it slides in and out of your soaked pussy. your inner walls clench around his cock, trying to hold him inside as he pulls back, only to be stretched even further as he bottoms out.

you cry out, your back arching as he fills you to the hilt, his heavy balls pressing against your ass. he leans forward, his chest pressing against yours with his thrusts quickening more, and he starts pounding into you from above as loud groans and pants filled with your name leave his lips. you can feel the heat building in your core, that familiar pressure that signals your approaching climax.

"fuck, you feel incredible," higuruma moans, burying his face in your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "so perfect. 's like you're made just for me, isn't it?" you nod shakily, eyes watering with overwhelming pleasure when the head of his cock shoves against your cervix. you squeal and grab onto his bicep for support while his hands dig into your hips, using it as an anchor as he pounds into you with increasing fervor. the bed creaks beneath you, the headboard banging against the wall in a rhythmic thump that seems to punctuate each deep thrust.

you grab him by the tie around his neck, halting him from his slobbery kisses to your pulse point below your ear, and slot your mouth messily onto his instead. and the moment you do, higuruma obeys your silent command without question. hishands move to brace on either side of your head as you pull him down into a deep, hungry kiss.

his cock slows its frantic pace because the new angle allows you to take him even deeper as he fucks you missionary-style, his chest pressed against yours. his tongue rolls over yours and scopes your mouth as his cock pushes into you to the hilt, balls squished against the curve of your ass while his tip places another kiss to your cervix. he gets distracted and can't kiss you and fuck you at once, so he keeps that mind numbing pressure on your womb while moaning into your mouth and devouring you.

"you're so perfect," he says, barely moving inside you at this point, but he allows you some breathing room by occasionally dragging his cock back nice and slow, then pushing back inside. he's not pulling out properly anymore. he just keeps hitting that spot deep inside that makes your vision blur with pleasure.

"baby, i can't... i can't last much longer," he moans against your lips, his body tensing above you. but you won't let him pull away, tightening your grip on his tie. when he tries to warn you again, you cut him off with a whispered assurance. "do it, i want your cum, higuruma."

"oh, fuck." his entire body goes rigid above you, and you feel the first hot spurt of his release deep inside your womb. "i'm... c-cumming, i'm gonna-"

he shoves his tongue into your mouth again to silence the embarrassingly loud noises leaving his mouth, his cock throbbing as it dumps what feels like an endless stream of thick, hot cum inside you. his load fills you up and coats your inner walls, all the pressure from being so full and the warmth of his cum sending you over the edge right after.

see more in my jjk masterlist

see more in my main masterlist

"Sorry. Sorry, I should've looked." You mumbled out, then cleared your throat, forcing yourself to speak again and not sound like a weak mouse. "My apologies."

"No worries. You're, uh, new here, right? First day?"

You looked up. The man in front of you was tall, almost lanky, with his tie and dress shirt peeking out his sweater collar. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, veiny arms on display, and he was looking at you with a tiny smile.

"It's normal." He continued without waiting for you to reply. "Reported that at least 50% of new hires in any workplace get mishaps on the first day. That can be fixed with a tour guide. I can help you around."

You blinked. You weren't used to a man offering to help you before you even said anything; especially not with your dating history of douchebags and idiots.

"That…would be great. Thanks." You attempted a smile, holding out a hand for a shake. The man just ignored it with a little wave instead, saying; "I'm Spencer."

Disregarding the lack of contact, you followed behind him as he showed you around the office. He showed you meeting rooms, facilities like printers or bathrooms, and finally, your own desk. It was conviently just a few rows down from his own. The space was empty, and he gestured to it with one hand.

"I'm sure you'll decorate it as pretty as you look."

You hardly had time to process the compliment before he smiled awkwardly and backed away, turning around to head down a hallway.

Well. This would be more interesting than you thought.

Location: The BAU printing room. Time: 2:12pm.

While you waited for papers to print, you got time to think.

It was simple, really. All the things others called bare minimum were legendary in your world; you were lucky for a boyfriend to even touch you at night, let alone get flowers or plan dates or notice little details without words. You had settled for guys doing drugs at parties, guys with fake jobs, guys that weren't smart or funny. None had ended well, and while you (and your closest friends) could have deducted that at your first meeting, you had stuck to him with a I-can-fix-him attitude.

Yeah. You could admit you were a bit too hopeful sometimes.

You needed standards. Expectations that your boyfriend will do the same things your friend's boyfriends did. Expectations that he won't be an asshole that'll just leave you in the dirt as soon as a prettier girl slided up next to him at a bar.

What you had started doing, though, after five months as part of the BAU team, was to keep a list. Not of cases or to-dos, but of every time Spencer did something like that. No, you weren't dating, nor would you let yourself think you had a crush on him. But he was doing more sweet things as a coworker-friend than some six month long relationships had.

As of now, you counted four things. The time you didn't want to interrupt at a group meeting, so he let you whisper your idea in his ear and he spoke it out, crediting you afterwards. The time he left a bouquet of flowers on your desk with a note that read as a new decoration. The time he read his science book to you when you couldn't sleep on a plane ride home, enunciating softly so you could hear each word in that nerdy voice of his. The time he brought coffee for you, exactly the way you liked it despite you having never told him explicitly what you liked.

In between the more memorable services, he found ways to slip more kindness in every day interactions. He never spoke much after he did these acts for you, just giving you the same smile you'd grown so fond of or a little finger brush that made you shiver each time.

The printer dinged. It had finished. As you collected your papers, you heard a voice behind you that you instantly recognized;

"What'cha working on?" Spencer asked, going past you to get to the coffee machine in the corner. He placed his mug down, going for a refill as he kept his gaze on you. You loved that about him; when he talked to you, he talked to you directly, like he wanted to hear your response.

"Some papers for Hotch." You replied easily. You found it easy to talk to him — and the rest of the team — now that you had been at the BAU for a few months now. Other than long cases, you were used to the hustle every day; and you woke up every morning excited to see Spencer again. He really had an effect on you.

Spencer nodded, taking a sip of his now finished coffee. "What are they about?"

Through his questions and curious gaze, you ended up talking to him for at least fifteen minutes, the two of you slowly inching closer and closer like magnets until you were standing side by side in the printing room. Spencer had read over your papers with his usual quick speed, and while you started talking about work, you ended up talking more about your own lives.

He had told you about a few of his published research papers, and you were excited to get home and read them. You had told him about all your extracurriculars in college, and he seemed interested about what you were interested in. You talked about what you thought your lives would look like in ten years, and you had to bite back the urge to say something about how you hoped Spencer was still in yours.

There was a loud knock on the door, and you could tell it was Hotch wanting the papers. You laughed quietly, just for Spencer, collecting all the sheets and heading out the door.

With your back turned, you didn't see how he kept looking at you while you left.

Location: The BAU business jet. Time: 11:54pm.

Everybody on the plane was asleep except for two people; you, and Spencer.

You were sitting side by side, as you now usually did. Penelope had noticed it first, how close you two had gotten over the year you had been at the BAU, and then everybody else caught on. You weren't a hundred percent sure if that was because of how you acted or because of Penelope's love for gossip, but now it wasn't a secret how close Spencer and you were.

Spencer was reading a book, flipping pages so quickly you could barely read a full paragraph before it was onto the next.

"Slow down." You murmured softly, your elbow propped up on the armrest between your seats, leaning over to look down at the book. You laughed quietly to not wake up the rest of the team asleep in their spots. "It's almost scary how fast you read."

"You think I'm scary?" Spencer whispered back, and you turned your head to look at him. Underestimating the closeness, your lips nearly brushed his as you met his eyes. Neither of you moved.

"I think you're lovely." You replied whole-heartedly, which got you a small smile.

You turned your head back to his book when you knew he wouldn't actually reply. He never really did after you tried to compliment him, and it wasn't annoying; no, it was just another trait you loved about him.

Liked. You liked about him. Where did that come from?

The problem was that it was late, almost midnight, and you still had a few hours until you landed back in Quantico. After a long day and a bumpy start to the ride, you were feeling tired. You dropped your head on Spencer's shoulder, barely noticing his freezing as your eyes drifted close.

You felt one of his hands come up to the side of your head, gentle fingers brushing through your hair, and you let out a sleepy hum of contentment.

You weren't sure if it was Spencer's lips or a slight breeze that grazed your forehead, but you knew what you were wishing it was.

Location: Brenna's Bar, downtown Virginia. Time: 10:32pm.

You hadn't meant to get drunk. You really hadn't. And if you thought about it hard enough, you weren't that wasted; enough to stumble a little as you moved on the dancefloor, but not enough to not register what Penelope or Derek were saying.

Despite it being a work celebration after a long case, you had dressed up cute, pinning your hair up and slipping into a short dress and heels, and you felt pretty. While applying your makeup before leaving, maybe you had thought once or twice about Spencer's reaction to seeing you.

To your disappointment, he just gave you the same smile and sat down a few seats away. No jaw drop, no heart eyes, and you knew it was childish to feel that way, but you couldn't stop it. Not after spending so long with kind and gentle touches and acts and feelings, not after everything Spencer had done for you under a friendship label. Friends didn't do what you two did.

At least, that's what you said to get yourself to sleep at night.

You were dancing now, the pink and purple lights reflecting off the disco ball and your shimmery dress. You were up with JJ and Penelope while the guys sipped their drinks on their stools or talked about whatever guy things they talked about. You were too tipsy to care, too tipsy to notice Spencer's subtle glances to you, too tipsy to see Morgan punch his shoulder with a teasing grin.

You wanted to show off. It was a Friday night, and you hadn't been with anybody in ages, not since before you joined the BAU. You were desperate to get Spencer off your mind, which was why you were moving so energetically next to JJ and Penelope's bodies, not really paying attention to anything other than the pounding of your heart.

You felt a pair of hands slip over your hips and waist, and craning your head over your shoulder, you saw the guy that stood behind you, swaying along. His body was tall and chiseled, his lips curved into a smirk with light stubble growing on his chin. He was hot enough, and his hands were warm and confident, nothing like Spencer's soft and tentative touches. He whispered something in your ear. You didn't hear it.

If you squinted enough, you saw Spencer in his features.

And then you actually did see Spencer, as he had gotten up from his stool and stormed over, pulling the man's hands off your waist. You hardly had time to gasp before he reached for your wrist, pulling you away to the back exit.

When you felt the cold night air hit your face, you exploded.

"What the fuck, Spencer?! I spent months trying to be confident and flirty and get you to want me, but you never do. I never stop thinking about you, as much as I fucking hate it. As soon as I think I can get some sort of distraction and be with somebody who wants me, even for just a night, you storm in and act like I'm a cheating whore!"

"I never said that." Spencer cut in, running a hand through his hair.

"I never said you did!" You pushed his chest, too drunk to filter the words coming out of your mouth. "But you sure are making me feel like one! Did any little thing you ever did mean shit to you, or am I just losing my fucking mind?"

"What do you want me to say? That I'm in love with you? Because I am, and that doesn't change anything!"

It took a minute to process his last words. Because I am. He was in love with you. You weren't crazy, you weren't making things up to satisfy your own desires.

You deflated. "You…you are?"

Spencer let out a long sigh, turning his head away, down the allyway to the street. "…yes. And seeing you with some random person just…I don't know."

Wow. Spencer never didn't know things. He was the smart one, the nerdy one, the one who never shut up about science or math or miscellaneous facts. You had never heard the words "I don't know" come out of his mouth, ever.

"Can you do something about it?" You asked quietly over the cool wind breezing through the alley.

"I think I should now, huh?"

Location: Spencer's apartment. Time: 11:06pm.

It didn't take too much time to get to his place.

You had gotten a taxi, and the two of you barely sat restrained in the back, the only connection being your hands laced together. You kept glancing over at Spencer, your head starting to clear ever so slightly from the lack of new drinks, though you knew you were still a bit tipsy.

The second the door closed behind you, he was kissing you.

It was all consuming now; the way he pressed you to the door, the way you could feel his body heat through layers of clothes, the way his lips moved so desperately against yours like he had wanted to act on his feelings for months, just like you had. Your hands came up to thread through his hair while his own hands laid hesitantly on your waist, careful not to touch skin.

You broke your lips apart just enough to murmur out a; "Touch me, Spencer."

You could feel him swallow harshly, gently prying you off the door and taking you further into the living room. He laid you down on the couch softly, as if all the desperate pent-up desire he had back in the allyway fizzled out now that he actually had you under him. You could still see the want in his eyes, the hunger, but you could also see the sweet man you had fallen in love with so many months ago.

Love. That was a big word, yet no word felt so right.

"We can't. We shouldn't." Spencer whispered. You were laying down on the couch, and he hovered over you, legs bracketing your hips and propping himself on his elbows beside your head so he didn't crush you under him.

"Why not?" You asked, tilting your head up, chasing his lips.

He sat up fully, delicately pushing your shoulders down to the soft cushions. "You're drunk. Or tipsy. I don't know how many drinks you had, and that's what makes me nervous. You aren't in your right mind as of now."

You huffed. You really thought this was going somewhere. "What does that mean? Are you kicking me out?" "No, god no." Spencer reached one hand down to brush over your hair. "Just…wait until the morning. See if you still feel the same way, then we can do everything you want to."

Location: Spencer's apartment. Time: 8:48am.

Sunlight poured in from the windows.

The breeze of the air conditioning wafted through the house.

You were being pushed into the mattress.

Spencer never stopped being gentle with you; when you woke up, he had tucked your hair behind your ear. When you said you wanted to do the same thing you wanted last night, he had just nodded and kissed you deeply.

Now, the same hands that barely grazed yours months ago was holding your waist down to the mattress as he thrusted in and out of you with gentle purpose, eyes locked on your face to watch your expression for any twitch of discomfort or — god forbid — pain. He wanted to make you feel good, as good as you could feel with a hangover, and while you pulled at the nape of his neck and moaned out his name, all he did was smile and kiss you again.

"Love you." He whispered against your lips. You knew he did, you knew he fit all your expectations, from the day you met and he showed you around the headquarters to just last night at the bar.

It wasn't possible to say anything else. "I love you too."

The case had been a rough one; with JJ stuck back at home having had her new baby, Rossi away on a book tour, and Derek out on an injured knee from a renovation incident. JJ’s liaison duties had fallen to you, to your silent horror.

It wasn’t that you were bad at public speaking or presenting. It’s just, your palms got all sticky with sweat, your legs shook, and there was a tightness in your chest that you knew was going to stick around for hours.

Which was not exactly ideal when trying to impress your hot boss.

So you stuffed your anxiety down and did what needed to be done. Because even false confidence had to become actual confidence at some point, right?

As of that moment though, you wouldn’t dare let Hotch know you felt out of your depth. Not while you had something to prove, and especially not when any amount of his attention gave you butterflies in your stomach.

With you on PR duty, the stress that Emily and Spencer were under had doubled.

And with Rossi gone, Hotch had no one to split the administrative duties with.

Which left you all so busy that you had barely seen much of Spencer and Emily. While you and Hotch had been alone together at the station the entire time, with little more than orders and questions conveyed back and forth between the two of you.

Until Hotch had gathered you all into a conference room together to go over the evidence and write up the profile—press releases and administrative bullshit be damned.

Which left you reeling, because the three of them were just as stressed as—if not more so than—you, and when they got stressed...

They tended to get undressed.

Not completely—obviously—just a suit jacket here, a few popped buttons there, maybe some rolled up sleeves and messy hair.

But a girl could dream.

And God, did you dream vividly.

Nothing about Hotch escaped your notice. The width of his shoulders and chest made you itch to splay your hands over them. His thick hair would look so tempting between your thighs. You wondered if he would like the way you’d tug on it as he devoured you. Even the way the man dressed drove you crazy. His suits must have been tailored, because they fit far too well for your sanity. His silk ties looked soft and pullable. Your fingers itched to give them a good tug, preferably while guiding him to your lips.

Your attraction to Spencer was different from how you lusted after Hotch.

Spencer had an innocence and pureness about him that was impossible not to adore… An innocence you fantasized about corrupting. You often watched Spencer read, a habit you couldn’t break. It was so hard to look away, however, when he drug his fingers down the page, gentle and reverent. You wondered how that would feel against your ribs. Or lower. His sweet smiles often tempted you to tease him mercilessly. The way his amber eyes lit up when he rambled on made your stomach fill with butterflies. His soft voice always left your heart pounding and your pussy throbbing. Not that he knew that—thank God—though even if he did, it would just embarrass him.

Emily was, well… Emily.

Confident, strong, sassy and could break you in half, something you definitely wished she would do. Her dark hair and porcelain skin were a thing of beauty. The way she held herself with such surety was enthralling. Her clever and bold personality was absolutely deadly, both to unsubs and your libido. You often wondered how it would feel to earn her attention. She had a ‘take charge’ attitude in the field that you were almost sure would extend to the bedroom as well. You found yourself daydreaming about her scarlet lips giving commands of the erotic variety, smiling, and calling you a good girl… Among other things you imagined they would be very good at.

In layman's terms you were metaphorically fucked.

If only you could get physically fucked… specifically, by one of them.

Alas, it’s against regulations to fuck your co-workers. So your imagination, that new vibrator, and—if you were lucky—a wet dream or two would just have to do.

Being alone with one of them was truly a battle between your common sense and your carnal imagination.

However, being in a room with all of them… that was enough to put you in a mental crisis of truly epic proportions.

Just to make everything astronomically worse, you were pretty sure they had started to notice.

They had all started to notice.

You had been so relieved to wrap up the case and finally head home. Until you realized that heading home meant being on that cramped jet for several hours with just the three of them.

Hotch, who was sitting across from you, had immediately noticed that something was off with your demeanor. You were usually so exuberant, talkative and flirtatious in a way that rivaled even Penelope.

Now your eyes darted around the cabin, never lingering longer than a second on anything—especially a person. Your cheeks were flushed, like you were a little overheated or had spent just a little too long in the sun.

His biggest clue, however, was the way your chest expanded in small rapid breaths. He was growing concerned and was about to ask if you were alright.

Before he could, you offered a quick excuse to Emily—who had been chatting animatedly to you—and headed toward the restroom.

“Okay, has anyone else noticed that she’s been acting strangely all day?” Spencer asked the other two, once the bathroom door latched behind you.

Hotch nodded his head, agreeing with Spencer’s assessment of your odd behavior.

“I agree, she’s not been quite herself this week.” Hotch murmured, raising his brows and shaking his head. “She definitely hasn’t been nearly as flirtatious as she normally is.” The usual crease in his brow returned to its proper place. “She didn’t say anything remotely off-color in front of me at all this week, now that I think about it.”

Your quiet, nervous state was so unlike you—not that he had watched you enough to know.

Usually, you would crack a poorly timed joke or two, earning a disciplinary glare, and he would have to bite back a grin all the way through it.

There were no jokes today, no flirting, just intense focus. Your eyes locked on the evidence board. Never straying for a second, not even when he made an attempt to draw your attention. You only responded when asked a direct question and only made eye contact when absolutely necessary.

He had easily noticed your skittish state. How you seemed to duck out of a room as soon as he entered, or disappear for a while and come back laser focused on anything that wasn’t him.

You were usually quite confident. Or at least did a very effective job at hiding it when you weren’t.

“No kidding.” Emily snorted in halfhearted amusement. “I’ve been trying to snap her out of it the entire flight, and apparently, my flirting only made it worse.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like girls, Em.” Spencer joked with a smug grin.

“She definitely does…” Emily countered, giving Spencer a healthy dose of side-eye and a knowing smirk. “She flirts with me all the time, and Penelope told me that she has an ex-girlfriend. If anything she doesn’t swing your way.”

In Emily’s humble—expert—opinion, you practically had a flashing neon sign above your head that said: GAY!

Hotch chuckled and shook his head, smiling faintly, “I think you’re both wrong.” He refereed. “She’s bisexual, at the least.”

He glanced up from his case file, his brows raised and a smug smirk on his face.

“She very well could be.” Spencer admitted, his face stuck in that expression that said he was overanalyzing every detail about you that could ever apply to this situation. “We could test that hypothesis…”

His eyes were sparkling with a curiosity that was definitely scientific.

“It’s not a bad idea…” Emily mused. “It could be fun… and we do have five uninterrupted hours of airtime left…”

“Ground rules would be necessary,” Hotch added, murmuring almost as if to himself. Pretending to be lost in the case file again. His eyes traced boredly over the lines of text on the page, “and clear consent, from everyone.”

“Now we’re talking.” Emily smirked, sitting up a little straighter. She had been waiting for a chance to take her harmless flirting into a more serious pursuit. “I'm surprised though, you’re seriously gonna let us do this Hotch?”

“I can’t say I’m not curious to see where it goes…” He admitted, smirking a bit. However, his eyes barely lifted from the page, seemingly disinterested.

He was, in fact, very interested.

He saw the way you looked at him—and the other two—on a regular basis. He knew you were attracted to them.

What he didn’t know—with certainty anyway—was how you would react to an advance by all three of them at once. He was certain, however, that you were in for the surprise of your life—and a very good time—if you let it get that far.

“It’s settled then.” Reid smiled in self satisfaction. “When she comes back out we’ll conduct a little… experiment.”

Then the three of them produced a hurried plan.

When you exited the restroom a few minutes later you were no better—if not worse—off than you had been before. Trying to get yourself off had not only failed, it had also made the problem almost painful. However, staying in the restroom any longer would not only be embarrassing, but suspicious as well.

You tried not to look at Emily when you sat back down, looking anywhere else would be safer. So you shifted, only to catch Spencer’s eye, who was studying you with a strange expression.

The last time you felt so scrutinized, you had been defending your thesis to earn your Master’s.

You decided it was probably safest to stare at your lap instead, fiddling with the hem of your pencil skirt. Anxiously rubbing circles in the cotton fabric between your fingers in an effort to soothe… something. Hoping, praying, that none of them knew it had been hiked around your waist only moments before… with your hand tucked between your thighs.

“Hey, are you alright?” Emily asked softly.

You could feel all three sets of eyes burning into you, you didn’t dare look up. The racing of your pulse was only getting faster.

“Mm hmm.” You nodded, continuing to play with the seam of your skirt and then trying to smooth a run in the delicate black nylon of your stocking. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Your voice was a little higher than normal, and you knew they hadn’t missed it.

“Hmm, I don’t know…” Emily responded, you could hear slight teasing in her voice. “You haven’t been acting fine. In fact, you seem a little stressed,” You could practically feel the grin on her face as she turned, “Hotch, doesn’t she seem stressed?”

“Incredibly stressed.” He agreed, and if you’re not mistaken, that was amusement in his tone.

You flush even brighter.

“You should relax a little.” He suggested in that stupidly hot low timbre of his. He didn’t even have the decency to toss you a glance. You often wondered if anything could tear the man away from his file. God, maybe one of these days you’d strip down and stand in front of him butt-ass naked, just to see if that would do it.

You couldn’t help the little snort of indignant laughter that escaped you, because Hotch’s tone was practically sinful—proving that, yeah, you could get wetter than you already were—and the fact that Hotch, of all people, told you to relax.

“You’re one to talk.” You retorted before you could think better of it. A slight feeling of panic washed over you at your brashness and you risked a glance up at him, his expression was frustratingly neutral.

His eyes, however, held a peculiar spark. A spark that still somehow gave you nothing.

Emily scooted a tad closer to you, turning her body to face yours and pulling her knees up under her on the bench seat.

“Turn around.” She commanded, twirling her finger around in a circle. You raised a brow at her questioningly, unsure of what she was about to do. She rolled her eyes. “Just trust me.”

You sighed—long sufferingly—and did as she asked, turning to face the other end of the jet. Your back now facing the others. You had little indication of what Emily intended to do with your back facing her, but you didn’t have the energy, or the nerve, to argue with her. The only hope in your mind was that she didn’t touch you and send you spiraling down another unfortunate slip-n-slide of arousal.

Then you felt the french pin slide out of your hair, which promptly unfurled and cascaded down your back. The pressure lifted off your scalp, leaving behind a dull ache.

Why had you twisted it so tight that morning?

Oh, that's right.

So you could at least appear put together when you’d realized that it would only be the four of you on the jet home, with no case briefings to distract you.

You could only dream of where you wanted this to go.

Hot mouths, desperate grabs, pleasured moans… snap out of it before you let one slip, holy shit.

You stiffened, very aware that this was a bad idea and tried to pull away.

“Relax…” She cooed, alarmingly close to your ear. You bristled a little further. “I only want to help…”

Her hands slid into your hair then, nails raking over your scalp gently before her fingertips began firmly massaging your temples. Your eyes closed involuntarily and most of the tension fled your body without warning. A little sigh escaped your lips and you felt your cheeks start to burn as you sunk into her hands.

“There, isn’t that better?” She murmured softly, a lilt to her voice you couldn’t quite place yet.

“It does feel nice…” You admitted nervously.

Her fingers trailed down from your temples to the back of your neck. Working into the muscles, tight with the start of a tension headache.

“I bet it does, your knots have knots.” She hummed sympathetically, if not a little disapprovingly. “You shouldn’t let it get this bad. It’s not healthy and it feels painful.”

“It’s been a long week…” You responded a little defensively. “I don’t think I can handle many more cases without JJ and Rossi around.”

The words are almost strangled, her hands on your neck both a blessing and a curse. Then they slide down to your shoulders. Kneading and digging into your traps in an earnest attempt to banish the tension there.

“Why is that?” She asked curiously, but there was something more… sensuous, about the way she said it. It sent a small shiver down your spine that, luckily, was easy enough to conceal. But you still wondered if she felt it.

You tensed up slightly again.

“Because, I am not a trained press liaison. JJ does a much better job, and we’re all better off with more of us in the field. You guys almost ran yourselves ragged trying to get everything done, and Hotch didn’t have Rossi to delegate administrative tasks to. Not to mention the locals were being a pain in the ass the whole time. It honestly felt like a bit of a clusterfuck.” You confessed, though that was only half the truth.

“You did a wonderful job with the press, JJ even texted me to tell me she was proud of you.” Hotch murmured from across the aisle, giving you a rare compliment. You glanced over at him in surprise, you hadn’t known JJ had sung your praises to Hotch as well. “But she told you that herself earlier. So why are you really so anxious?”

“It was just a lot for the four of us to take on, that’s all.” You insisted, but Emily’s hands started to work their way down your spine. She found a particularly sore spot and dug her thumb into it mercilessly, forcing a moan to escape your lips without permission.

“Sorry.” You murmured in absolute mortification.

“Don’t apologize.” Emily hushes you, a sly knowing smile on her face. “I like it when you're vocal.”

That startled you so thoroughly that you actually jumped a little. Any other day and it wouldn’t have phased you at all. That type of flirting was normal from Emily, she liked to make you blush. Tonight, however, you were woefully underprepared for her raunchiness. You laughed nervously, knowing that she would expect you to laugh on a normal day.

“Mmmm, I’m with Hotch.” Spencer hummed, finally entering the conversation. “I think something else has you all worked up. You’re missing Morgan, JJ, and Rossi because they’re a good buffer.”

You almost choked on air, he couldn’t possibly have worked that out so easily.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You lied.

He didn’t respond, and instead shared a glance with the others behind your back. Hotch gave a subtle nod to Emily, and she smiled in pure glee, before pulling your hair to one side and tracing her nose down the side of your neck. Her breath caused goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“You don’t? Are you sure?” She murmured, voice taking on a blatantly seductive tone.

You shot a worried glance in Hotch’s direction, only to find his eyes glazed over. Something heated hiding just beneath the surface.

“I- I’m sure.” You stuttered, every bit of that false confidence you’d been building ripped away in an instant. Leaving you a mess, you squeezed your thighs together once more trying to silence the throbbing ache between them, and his eyes flicked down to track the movement.

“You can’t lie to us. We’ve all been paying attention, sweetheart, and we see everything.” Hotch murmured, his voice thick and husky. “You know better.”

Sweetheart? Oh god. What on earth was happening?

You looked away from him quickly, hoping the truth wasn’t on blatant display in your eyes.

He chuckled softly.

Emily’s hand cupped your chin gently as she turned your head to face her, to face all of them.

“Emily?” You murmured in apprehension. She started to lean in closer to you, much closer. Too close for you to keep your wits about you. “What are you doing?”

She was searching your eyes intently for any hint of discomfort or fear.

She found none.

“This.” She whispered and then her lips met yours.

It was a gentle, seeking kiss. Her lips sure and firm against your own. You couldn’t help but lose yourself in it for a moment. The world narrowed down to her.

Her soft lips against yours. The way her mouth moved, seeking more from you. Her hand skimmed up your jaw from your chin and tangled in your hair as she deepened the kiss, pulling a soft whimper from your throat.

A whimper that was echoed by Spencer, just a few feet away.

His soft needy whine pulled you back down to earth, or rather, inside the jet. Where it suddenly dawned on you that Emily was shoving her tongue down your throat, in front of the team. In front of the team and your boss, who was-unfortunately–a stickler for rules.

Jerking away from Emily, you looked over at Hotch.

“Emily!” You gasped quietly, scrambling backward away from her on the seat. Despite your very, very willing participation. She followed you slowly. “What has gotten into you!?”

You were panting, your breaths shaky, your hands even shakier.

She smiled at you softly and threw a glance back over her shoulder at the others. Her gaze seemed to project, I told you so, as she crawled a little closer to you. You looked around at them then—panicked and breathless—the throbbing between your legs not at all helping you to make sense of the situation.

You focused on Hotch. Your eyes searched his frantically, knowing a reprimand would be swiftly coming your way. Or the inevitable glare of disappointment. Or worse, suspension.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor when he smirked at you instead.

“Don’t stop on my account.” He murmured, his voice thick and low, a slight rasp starting to come through. “It was just starting to get interesting.”

What. The. Fuck.

“W-w-what?” You stuttered, unsure if you had maybe misheard him, or imagined the whole fucking thing.

“You heard what I said.” He shrugged at you. “Don’t stop.”

Your mouth opened and closed, trying to form words when you were pretty sure your brain was on a hiatus.

“But-” You started to argue and he furrowed his brows at you.

This absolutely could not be happening. It was impossible. Any second now you were going to wake up and employ that new toy you had ordered specifically to deal with this issue.

“Are you saying you don’t like it when Prentiss kisses you?” He asked, his expression making it clear that he already knew the answer was no. You searched his eyes intently, looking for any sign that this would end poorly for you. What you saw instead was pure, unadulterated lust. The deep hazel of his eyes was almost consumed by his pupils and dark with hunger. He wanted you, he wanted to watch you make out with Emily, wanted to hear your moans and it was driving him crazy. So you shook your head no. Because you definitely did like the way Emily had kissed you and you wanted more. “Then close your mouth before I use it, and let Emily make you feel better.”

“Okay.” You murmured, barely louder than a whisper.

That was all Emily needed to hear.

Her mouth crashed into yours again and she pressed you back against the seat, slowly laying you down. Her body hovered over yours, the sweet scent of her perfume curling around you and numbing your senses. A moan ripped its way out of your mouth and she devoured it whole as her hand rested softly on your leg, just below the knee length hem of your skirt, and began to push it slowly up your thigh. The coolness of the air on your newly exposed skin made you shiver, a small shuddery breath accompanying it.

Emily grinned against your lips.

“Garters, huh? Can’t wait to see if they match your panties.” She murmured, Hotch and Spencer both groaned.

The idea of the two of them watching the two of you and enjoying it… was enough to make you squirm, the throbbing between your legs became agonizing again. Your thighs were rubbing together seeking any amount of friction…

Until Emily forced her knee between your legs, forcing them apart and not allowing the friction you so desperately needed. Her fingers still slowly dragged your skirt up the expanse of your thigh until she had it hiked up around your waist again.

“So pretty…” Hotch murmured, his voice thick and rough.

You turned your head to look at him, not at all phasing Emily who began kissing your neck instead, and found him sitting with his legs spread. His pants were undone and his long thick member was firmly gripped in his palm. If you weren’t so occupied with the fact Emily had found a spot on your neck that made your entire body tingle, your eyes might’ve bugged out of your head.

Emily’s lips managed to coax another soft moan from you and your attention was temporarily diverted. Your head rolled back a little to give her space to work, which made her chuckle. A sound that you were sure was pure sin.

You heard another sound, a soft moan from across the aisle, and you realized that Hotch…

Wasn’t the only one.

Spencer had taken his out as well, watching you intently while stroking himself slowly. A loud and surprising moan erupted from your lips, pulling soft groans from the three of them in response.

You didn’t know what you wanted more.

Emily’s mouth… or either of the cocks now standing at attention in front of you.

However, the decision would not be left up to you.

Emily’s hand was now popping open the buttons of your blouse one by one. Working her way down your stomach, her mouth following her hands slowly. She was taking her sweet time, kissing, sucking and biting gently. Sucking your skin into her mouth and rolling it softly between her teeth, probably leaving some little red marks. Her head dipping lower and lower toward the apex of your thighs.

More little moans escaped through your heavy, panting breaths.

Her mouth finally hovered over the place you wanted it most. Emily’s breath was hot as she slowly closed her lips around your clit over your black lacy panties. A strangled cry breaking free as you threw your head back, your mouth wide and your eyes closing tightly.

Hotch knelt down behind you, pushing his shoulder under your head, forcing you to look down at Emily between your legs. His hand brushed your hair out of your face gently.

“Do you like having Emily’s mouth between your legs, sweetheart?” He hummed against your temple, placing a tender kiss there.

You opened your mouth to answer, but Emily had other plans, sucking harder on your clit that she had been previously, while flicking at it with her tongue. Your panties weren’t even off yet and she had you nearly in tears from the pleasure.

A strangled, half moan, half gasp left your mouth in the place of words.

Hotch chuckled softly and his breath moved your hair, tickling your forehead.

“Where did that clever mouth go? It was working so well earlier.” His fingers curled around your open blouse, and he gently pulled it off your shoulders. He guided you back onto his shoulder again as he placed kisses to the side of your neck, and then tossed the shirt to Spencer, who brought it to his nose and took a deep breath of your perfume.

“She smells so good…” Spencer mumbled softly, still palming his own erection and watching Emily's head move between your legs.

“You have no idea how good she smells.” Emily groaned, biting the inside of your thigh hard enough to sting and then started to suck a hickey over the indentations her teeth had made.

“Why don’t you take her panties off and tell us how she tastes.” Hotch suggested with a smirk, you groaned softly in agreement. Your hips bucked slightly and that knot in your core squeezed tight.

“You like that idea, huh?” He teased gently, you could feel his grin against your temple. Then he threaded his hand through your hair and pulled your head back to mouth hot kisses down the line of your throat.

“I definitely do.” Emily smirked, then hooked her thumbs into the waist of your panties and slowly began to drag them down your hips. Her fingers deftly unclipping your garters from your stockings, then continuing to drag your panties down your legs until she had freed them completely and tossed them to the floor. Her warm breath fanned out across your skin and yours hitched at the sensation. Much to Emily’s delight, goosebumps pebbled your thighs and she ran her fingertips over them slowly. Which only made them worse.

“It’s not braille.” You hissed at her impatiently. “It’s not going to magically spell anything out.”

“That fucking mouth…” She mumbled as she finally closed the distance between her mouth and your pussy. Your hips bucked at the heat of her tongue as she licked a path from your entrance to your clit.

A strangled cry flew from your lips. Emily’s laugh puffed against you, and the only thing keeping you aware of anything at all was the combination of Spencer and Hotch’s laughs filling the space as well.

“Not such a smartass with a tongue on your pussy are you?” Hotch’s gravelly voice reverberated in your ear before he took your ear lobe in his mouth and bit it gently. “Be good for us and we’ll see just how many times we can make you come.”

You only had the mental capacity to nod… because Emily had just sucked your clit into her mouth and was rolling her tongue over it. That—combined with the gentle suction she so mindfully applied—meant whimpering, nodding, and squirming was all you could manage to do.

The warmth of her mouth was obscene, the slick firmness of her tongue enough to make you see stars. She gave a particularly rough pull of suction against your clit and you couldn’t contain yourself.

“Fuck!” You gasped, throwing your head back and closing your eyes.

Hotch wasn’t having that though.

Especially since Spencer was barely containing his own whimpers and moans from the chair across the aisle, where he was watching the entire scene with rapt attention, soaking in every detail. Hotch took your chin in his hand and forced you to look at Spencer.

“Look at him.” He commanded, growling in your ear. “Look at what you’re doing to him, Sweetheart, and you haven’t even touched him.”

You made eye contact with Spencer then, his eyes full of longing, sweat glistening on his brow and his hand struggling to maintain a steady rhythm on his cock. His chest was heaving from the effort it was taking him to remain in control, you could clearly hear his ragged breaths from your place across the cabin. His cheeks were flushed–a ruddy pink–and his hair was disheveled from his fingers, which he kept dragging through it.

“Spence…” You murmured softly, for no other reason than you felt the need to say his name. To acknowledge him and make sure he knew you saw him. To be certain he knew that you appreciated what you saw.

His cock was so hard it was closer to pink than his natural skin tone and you were anxious to do something about it. It looked almost painful.

You felt like you could hear everything he was thinking as he broke eye contact to study the length of your body, then brought his gorgeous amber doe eyes back yours.

“Tell her how beautiful she looks Reid, talk to her, she loves it when you ramble.” Hotch urged him gently. “Don’t you, pretty girl?”

You really did and the pleading look in your eyes was all he needed to see to know that was true.

“You should see yourself right now, Angel…” Spencer murmured softly, hesitantly at first but the heat in your eyes as you gazed back at him was undeniable, and the boost in confidence he needed. “You’re stunning, absolutely ethereal, bewitching even. From the luster of your hair to the delicate curves of your legs, you look like a dream. Your perfect breasts look so firm and smooth, I want to cup my hands around them just to see how it would feel.”

You moaned softly at that and Hotch hummed his agreement and approval of Spencer’s pretty words. He had to admit he was impressed, Reid seemed to have a way of waxing poetic. He watched with glee as your body reacted, both to Emily’s ministrations and Spencer’s words as he continued to speak. “Darling you are divine, the very smell of your perfume is intoxicating. Your lips are tantalizing and I can only imagine the feel of them on mine would be soft as silk.”

You hung on every word, his voice mesmerizing you as he spoke. You had no idea that Spencer had such a way with words. His poetic phrasing had your heart racing and your stomach fluttering.

Emily’s warm tongue slowly drifted away from your clit, trailing down your pussy to the wetness of your entrance… and she began to leisurely fuck you with it. You moaned so loudly it startled you and bit your bottom lip to stifle the noise.

“They can’t hear you in the cockpit, Angel. The door is too thick and the engines are too loud. Not to mention, they’re wearing headsets to communicate with air traffic control.” Spencer explained quietly.

Hotch’s hands started to travel down your body. One slipping into the black see-through mesh and lace of your bra, the other sliding slowly down your stomach and finding your—recently abandoned—clit. He circled it with his fingertips gently. His other hand firmly massaging your breast and rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You heard him, Sweetheart. No one can hear you but the three of us, and like Emily said: we like it when you’re vocal.”

You let out a soft whimper and he hummed in approval.

Emily drew most of your attention back to herself as she replaced her tongue with two fingers, stretching you wider and filling you more satisfyingly than before. She stayed between your legs though, sucking and biting at your thighs as she made her fingers match the pace of Spencer’s hand.

You knew that’s what she was doing because you were still watching him from the corner of your eye, and for every downward stroke of his hand, she thrust her fingers inside you at the same moment. Hotch caught on to what she was doing, and he also began to match that rhythm and pace, kissing and nipping at the column of your throat as he played with your clit and nipples.

“Let go babe, we’ve got you. I can feel how close you are, you’ve got my fingers in a vise.” Emily murmured against the skin of your thigh, pressing a kiss to the place she had just bitten. Hotch hummed against your neck.

“Are you gonna come on Emily’s fingers, Sweetheart?” He murmured, before biting your exposed throat gently and laving at it with his tongue.

All you could do was moan in response.

Emily’s mouth found its way back to your clit, nipping Hotch’s finger playfully to make him move it. He looked down at her with a smirk and flicked her forehead teasingly before bringing his hand up to your other breast.

She rolled her eyes at him and flattened her tongue against your clit, then circled it and finally began sucking on it again as she continued to fuck you with her fingers. Hotch was rolling both your nipples between his fingers and returned his mouth to your throat, you were almost certain he was leaving marks there.

He was and it was completely intentional, it was the weekend, and he intended to give you all two extra days off at the start of next week. They would fade.

Emily was getting worked up herself and the sound of your little pants and moans were driving her to distraction. When you let out a particularly loud whimper, she hummed in satisfaction and the vibration made you throw your head back farther and moan so lewdly that Hotch picked his head up to look at your face.

Your eyes were squeezed shut, your supple lips were shaped in a wide ‘O’ and he couldn’t help himself anymore, your mouth was just begging to be filled.

You were vaguely aware that he had lifted your head off his shoulder and moved to stand, but you were too focused on Emily—and her mouth— to wonder why.

Then something warm bumped your chin.

You opened your eyes and found Hotch standing in front of you, his cock bouncing just out of reach of your mouth. You looked up and met his eyes, questioningly.

He smirked down at you, reaching out and cupping your jaw in his hand. His calloused thumb rubbed a small circle on the smooth skin of your cheek.

“I told you to close your mouth or I’d use it.” He murmured, voice low and rough. His thumb stretched to pull your lip down just a little and let it snap back into place, then brushed the corner of your mouth softly.

You didn’t respond, you just opened your mouth a little wider and offered it to him.

“Fuck.” He murmured, barely louder than a whisper.

Em chuckled quietly and the vibrations ran straight up your spine then down your legs, making your toes curl. You threaded your hands through Emily’s hair, needing something, anything, to hold on to.

“A little wider sweetheart.” Hotch prompted you.

You obeyed immediately, opening your mouth as wide as you could and maintaining eye contact with him. You knew he would like the attention and he did, rewarding you with his thick cock as he slid it slowly into the warmth of your mouth.

He tasted clean, but salty, and the precum that was already leaking from him was sweet as well with a slightly bitter—but delicious—aftertaste. You groaned as you closed your lips around him.

“How does her mouth feel?” Spencer’s voice was strained, he still hadn’t moved to touch you, content to observe.

To learn.

“She’s perfect.” Hotch groaned, his hand buried in your hair fisting it firmly but not roughly. He began to use it to pull you slowly up and down the length of his cock. “Fuck sweetheart, you feel amazing.” He murmured looking down at you affectionately, “You’re so warm, and you’re being so pliant for me.”

You kept eye contact with him, trying to focus on him… While also being on the verge of coming from Emily’s tongue on your clit, her finger pumping in and out of your pussy. All three of them were still matching pace with each other, and it was intoxicating. In and out and in and out, all at the same time.

Realizing how close you were, just needing a little push to fall over the edge, Emily reached up and started rolling your nipple beneath the lace of your bra. Then she slightly changed the angle of her fingers, curling them slightly to brush against your g-spot with every thrust.

You uttered a very strangled cry, the sound muffled around Hotch’s thickness. “Whatever you just did, she liked it. Didn’t you, pretty girl?”

You moaned in response and his hand tightened in your hair, a low hiss sliding through his clenched teeth.

Emily chuckled and kept her pace steady, but the vibration of her laughter around your clit as she sucked on it was all it took to send you spiraling into blissful oblivion.

Your body felt fuzzy and warm and your pussy was pulsing uncontrollably around Emily’s fingers. Your legs were shaking and you finally broke eye contact with Hotch as you scrunched your face up in pleasure. Eyes closed tightly as she fucked you through it, then licked your pussy from bottom to top as though savoring the taste of your orgasm.

Your body slowly relaxed again and when Emily pressed one more kiss to your clit then stood from the couch, you opened your eyes again to look up at her. Panting heavily as you realized now, that Hotch had pulled out of your mouth so that you could breathe through your orgasm.

Emily smirked down at you and then held her two glistening fingers up to the light for Hotch to inspect. He looked at them with a feral sort of hunger in his eyes.

“Do you want to taste her?” Emily asked him, a sly grin on her face as she offered her middle finger up to him. “She’s delicious…” She purred, and Hotch glanced down at you, recovering from your orgasm with a look of pure adoration for Emily in your eyes.

Then he turned his head toward her and grabbed her wrist with his free hand, before drawing her finger into his mouth… and sucking it clean.

You groaned and let your head rest against his hand that was still tangled in your hair.

“Fuck, she tastes like heaven. Reid, you wanna taste?” Hotch asked the younger man, then turned his attention back to you, tugging lightly on your hair. “Get down on your knees for me, Sweetheart.” He coaxed gently.

You obeyed him, getting down on your knees in front of him, but watched Reid and Prentiss as you did it. She was offering her ring finger to him and he was licking it clean and groaning, as he stroked himself a little harder.

Spencer… Spencer who didn’t shake hands because of germs… was licking Emily’s finger, just so he could taste you.

Fuck…

You whimpered softly and Hotch chuckled quietly, using your hair to tilt your face up to look at him .

“You can have him as soon as I’m done with your pretty little mouth.” He murmured teasingly. “Open up sweetheart.” You let your mouth fall open in what you hoped was a sexy expression. “So pretty…” He whispered for the second time that night as he slid his cock back into your mouth.

He used your hair—again, to your delight—to guide your mouth up and down his considerable length. He was taking it slow, going easy on you… you didn’t like that, not one bit. So you surged forward on his cock, taking as much of him as you could without gagging and he let out a sharp, gasping, string of barely intelligible obscenities.

You tried to pull back a bit to do it again… but he held you firmly in place.

“You want me to fuck your mouth, pretty girl? Blink once for no, twice for yes.” You moaned, looking up at him from under your lashes and pleading with your eyes, you blinked twice.

That is exactly what you wanted.

He chuckled quietly and then gave you a soft look.

“Have you ever had your mouth fucked before? Once for no, twice for yes.” You blinked once—you hadn’t and you were nervous because with his cock so deep in your throat you couldn’t breathe, you were also struggling not to gag—but you wanted him to do it so badly in that moment.

“Then listen closely, so I don’t hurt you.” He warned you, then caressed your neck tenderly. “Relax your throat, soften the back of your mouth.” He instructed gently. “Go ahead, I’ll tell you when you’ve done it right.” You tried to do as he asked, relaxing all the muscles in your throat and opening the back of your mouth. “Good girl, that’s perfect.”

Your head was starting to feel fuzzy from lack of oxygen, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you so you didn’t panic.

“Keep your jaw loose and let me move you, don’t fight against me or try to help. It’ll make you sore if you do. You can’t breathe right now can you?” He asked, seemingly knowing the answer was no, but you blinked once anyway. “You are going to have to focus on your breathing. Time it so that you take a full inhale through your nose as I’m pulling out.”

He pulled you back off his cock just enough so that your airway was clear, you immediately sucked in a full breath and your head cleared.

“Good girl…” He soothed, stroking your cheek with the back of his finger. “When you take a breath, hold it. Then release it when I pull out the next time. Do you understand?”

You blinked twice.

“Perfect.”

He started so slowly—barely moving at all—letting you get the hang of how to breathe and how to keep everything loose and relaxed.

“That’s perfect, sweetheart, just like that.” He praised you after a minute, and then he slowly increased his pace, going a little deeper as well.

“Look how well she takes it…” Emily purred, kneeling down next to you and brushing a stray hair from your face. “Such a good girl…” She cooed, running her hand down your bare back.

Her words only served to fuel your ego and you preened under her praise.

“She’s a natural…” Hotch agreed and brought his free hand up to your cheek. “Think you can take it a little faster, pretty girl?” He asked, stroking your skin with his thumb.

You blinked twice.

“Good girl, remember to breathe in on every other one.” He both praised and reminded you softly as he picked up the pace. His cock was touching the back of your throat now with every inward thrust. His hand in your hair supported your head and held you completely still. You were like putty in his hands, and Hotch was reveling in it. He loved the way you completely surrendered and trusted him with something you’d never experienced before. “Fuck, Sweetheart… you’re taking me so well. I’m so proud of you.”

The tone of voice he was using—low and rough—was making your pussy throb all over again.

You moaned and he lost a little bit of his restraint, fucking into your mouth a little harder than he had been before, but not hard enough to hurt you. It was making your eyes water, however, and you had tears running down your cheeks. Hotch was enthralled by them, by the mascara tracks they were leaving and the way they changed the shade of your eyes slightly. “Such a good fucking girl, letting me fuck your mouth like this… you’re perfection, sweetheart.”

“Look at what you’re doing to him…” Emily whispered softly in your ear. “He’s barely holding on, you’re driving him crazy with those pouty, fuckable lips and pleading puppy dog eyes… you should see yourself the way he’s seeing you right now… you’re fucking beautiful baby.”

You moaned and it would’ve been loud and obscene if not for the cock in your mouth.

Hotch’s hips stuttered and he cursed, you knew that meant he was close.

“I’m about to come, pretty girl…” He gritted out, his hand in your hair tightening. “Can you take it?”

You moaned and blinked twice at him, then held eye contact. You didn’t know how you knew that would send him over the edge, you just did.

Then he was spilling himself down your throat, and you swallowed every fucking drop, then sucked him clean. He pulled his cock from your mouth and tucked it back into his briefs, then squatted down in front of you. The thumb of his free hand wiped a drop of liquid off your chin and he brought it to your lips, the look in his eyes almost challenging.

You licked his thumb from base to tip, then closed your lips around it and lightly sucked on it. He smiled at you then, pulling his thumb from your mouth and sliding that hand back to join his other in your hair. Hotch pulled you toward him gently as he started to lean in and murmured, “Such a good girl…”

The kiss he gave you was hot, sloppy and branding. He could taste himself in your mouth as his tongue invaded it and he was obsessed with the mingling of his flavor and yours. You moaned into his mouth and tried to deepen the kiss again, but he heard Spencer’s ragged breathing behind him and pulled back.

“You wanna ride Reid’s cock, Sweetheart?” He murmured loudly enough that Spencer also heard him and you both whimpered pathetically at the suggestion.

Hotch and Emily both chuckled, and then Hotch put his hands on your waist to help you stand and guided you over to the chair Spencer was in. Your legs were shaking and you were as clumsy as a baby giraffe stumbling over to him.

Spencer was looking up at you with those big amber puppy dog eyes and you felt even weaker in the knees, luckily you didn’t have to stand for much longer. Hotch steadied you on your wobbly legs until you climbed up onto Spencer’s lap, straddling him.

He was hesitant to touch you, his observation had started this whole thing and when he had suggested an experiment… he hadn’t expected it to end in sex…especially not group sex. When Hotch and Emily had started talking about consent and ground rules—lines that couldn’t be crossed— he had been sent reeling.

When he had asked if they’d noticed you acting strangely it had been out of concern for your wellbeing. When he had suggested they test the hypothesis he had merely meant to prove whether you were into men, women, or both.

He had wanted a scientific experiment, not sexual experimentation.

Not that he was complaining…

He, Emily, and Hotch were all three bisexual. Hotch didn’t really broadcast that fact, especially not in front of the others. Even though Spencer was pretty sure the only two on the team who weren’t queer were Rossi and Derek, and he wasn’t even sure about Rossi sometimes. So it wasn’t a big deal if you were or were not bisexual. He had only been curious.

Curiosity killed the cat or something like that… yet this time he had ended up with your bare pussy hovering over his cock, and he was not at all upset with this outcome. Just incredibly shocked. You were so beautiful, looking down at him with your tear stained cheeks and swollen lips. He still hesitated, however, because he wasn’t sure whether or not you really wanted him, or if he was being included simply because he was here.

You could see that hesitation, that self doubt in his eyes… you hated it.

So you leaned in and kissed him. It was a sweet kiss at first… reassuring and gentle. You were giving him plenty of time to work his nerve up. When he didn’t pull away—and even started to reciprocate—you deepened the kiss and teased at his lips with your tongue.

Requesting entry.

He parted his lips for you immediately, you smiled against him before you let your tongue caress his sinfully. His body was no longer rigid, but he was still tense. You moved to kissing his neck and nipping at his skin.

“Relax Spence…” You murmured sensually, running your hands through his hair and brushing it back from his forehead. “Let me lead, I’ll take care of you.” Pulling back and checking in to make sure, before you went too far, you looked him in the eyes, searching them intently. “Is this okay with you, Handsome?”

He nodded, biting his bottom lip in a way that made you want to bite it too.

“Yes.” He murmured, still hesitating… then whispered, “I just– I’ve only done this twice… I don’t know what to do in this position…”

Oh…

“That’s okay, I didn’t know what to do a minute ago and Hotch talked me right through it… We can do that for you, if you want?” You offered him gently. Your eyes were soft and kind, but let him see just how badly you wanted him. “Besides… I’ll enjoy being able to teach you something for once.”

He laughed softly, and some of the tension melted away from him.

“Okay.” He agreed. “Tell me what to do.”

Then in a burst of confidence, he reached up and tucked your hair behind your ear.

You hummed in approval.

“Touching me would be a great start.” You teased gently, not at all trying to bruise his ego.

“That’s true…” He joked quietly and his hands settled on your waist, then started to slowly trail up your sides. Lightly dancing over your ribs. “What if… I did this as well?”

And then his hands were reaching around to the clasp of your bra and deftly unhooking it. Which shocked you given his inexperience… you’d bet anything that he’d practiced somehow so he wouldn’t fumble when it mattered.

You reached down between your bodies and wrapped your hand around him. He sucked in a sharp gasp, jumping at the contact and your soft chuckle was echoed by two more behind you.

“Then I would do this and tell you that you have great instincts if you’ll just listen to them.” You started to slowly pump your hand up and down his length and he groaned. It was an almost tortured sound, as though you were both killing him and pleasuring him at the same time.

He slid the straps of your bra down your arms and you briefly let go of him to toss it to the floor. You sat up a little straighter as he took in the sight of you, sitting astride him in nothing but a garter belt and thigh-high stockings.

“You’re so beautiful, Angel…” he murmured, then leaned forward and pressed kisses to your breasts.

You lost patience then.

“Are you ready?” You asked him as you lined him up with your entrance, barely putting the tip in.

Your hands were trembling and your breathing was rapid and shaky.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one who asks you that?” He responded, but his voice cracked and you knew he was putting on bravado. He was every bit as desperate as you, his breaths ragged and harsh.

“Spence…” You whimpered, needing his permission to sink down on it. “Please.”

He didn’t respond, instead he gripped your hips firmly and tugged you down onto his cock until you were fully seated on it. You swore you could feel every ridge, every vein, and every little twitch it made.

“Fuck!” You moaned, loudly, earning snickers and snorts from the two voyeurs sitting on the couch behind you.

“Shit, sorry! Did I hurt you?” He panicked.

“That was definitely not a sound of pain, Reid.” Hotch murmured.

Spencer looked at you closely anyway, unsure if you were alright.

“You told me to follow my instincts so I–”

You kissed him, to shut him up and stop his doubts from running away with his head. Then you started to ride him slowly. He groaned against your lips and you smiled. The feel of him—filling you up—was exquisite.

“Your instincts are perfect Spencer…” You praised him, letting your hands drift back into his hair. “That was hot.”

His beautiful eyes gazing up at you as you rode him made you feel a little dizzy, he was so fucking pretty. He was gripping your hips tightly and every time you brought them back down he whimpered. The sounds he was making were driving you insane.

“Tilt your hips forward a bit more, sweetheart.” Hotch instructed you, his voice low and raspy. “It’ll help you take him deeper, and feel twice as good for him.”

He was right, and you did know that already, but it was so fucking sexy when he started giving orders.

“And for her.” Prentiss added, you could hear the salacious smile in her tone.

“Like this?” You asked in a faux bashful tone, as if you didn’t know how to do it. Then you did it perfectly, so that you and Reid both groaned, and your ass popped back enticingly for Hotch and Emily.

They both groaned softly and you smiled, winking at Spencer. Letting him in on your antics. He smiled back at you, as amused as he could be—given the circumstances.

“What about this? Do you think this would make him feel good?” You asked, rolling and circling your hips seductively as you rode him.

Spencer hissed out a breath, his eyes rolling back briefly.

“I can confirm that it does in fact feel amazing.” He groaned, you giggled and threw a flirty glance back over your shoulder at the others. Then leaned forward and sucked Spencer’s bottom lip into your mouth, biting it. He slid his hands down to your thighs squeezing tightly, then over your thighs where he looped his fingers into your stockings and peeled them down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Then traced his fingers back up your calves and thighs, back to your hips and you noticed he was avoiding your ass… So did Prentiss.

You felt the heat of her body behind you before you heard her voice, and pulled back to look up at her.

“Don’t be shy Reid…” She purred, her hands landing on his, dragging them back till they rested fully on your ass. “Get a good handful… or two.” She made him squeeze you firmly. You moaned and Emily chuckled. “See… She loves that, don’t you babe?”

“Yes!” You moaned wantonly, and caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye. Hotch had moved closer and was perched on the edge of the table next to the seat you and Spencer were in. He was watching with a ravenous hunger in his eyes.

“Put her nipple in your mouth, Reid.” He said after a moment. “Suck on it while circling your tongue around it.”

Emily hummed her approval, they were giving Spencer a veritable textbook for How To Make You Come 101. Spencer listened, of course. He’d just watched Hotch and Emily tag team you into an orgasm, their words were as good as gold.

When his lips closed around your nipple you hissed and whimpered a little, picking up your pace as you bounced up and down on his cock. Hotch chuckled in lust filled amusement, reaching over and stroking your ribs with the back of his hand.

“She makes such beautiful little sounds.” He mused to Emily, who nodded and then grabbed a handful of your hair.

She used it to tip your head back then kissed you thoroughly, her tongue caressing yours and you could still taste your pussy on her lips. You moaned and ground yourself down against Spencer, his cock reaching all the way to your cervix, you felt as though you could feel him in your stomach.

Hotch’s fingers were tracing your ribs, or maybe that was Spencer? No, his hands were still on your ass so it had to be Hotch or Emily. Someone was trailing a hand down your stomach to where your body joined with Spencer’s, this hand was larger and callused while the other was soft and smaller. So Emily was tracing your ribs, while Hotch…

Hotch was on a collision course with your clit. You knew when he made impact, you’d see stars.

Spencer switched nipples, still kneading your ass with firmness and your muscles were starting to ache from pulling yourself up and down his cock at this pace. Emily was still lighting you up with her kiss, her fingers traveling down the line of your rib to the breast that Reid had started with. Hotch’s fingers were getting closer and closer, but they were moving so slowly you knew he was trying to drive you wild with anticipation.

It was working.

Your chest was heaving, you were trembling and your legs were aching deliciously from exertion. Spencer’s cock was hitting you perfectly every time you sank down on it. All the sensations combined were almost too much for your sanity. You were so close, again.

“Look at you, falling apart at the seams… you’re so close aren’t you sweetheart?” Hotch murmured, his voice a lot closer than it had last been. What was he, a mind reader? His nose skimmed your neck up to your ear, which he then bit gently. You moaned into Emily’s mouth, a pitiful little whimper, and you felt her smile softly against your lips. “Does Reid’s cock feel so good? Filling you up like that. Stretching you out. I wonder, can you still taste yourself on Emily’s lips? Do you know how good you taste, pretty girl?”

Fuck, was he trying to kill you?

It was like his voice had gained a solid form and had wrapped itself around your throat, cutting off your oxygen and leaving you completely breathless. Your senses were overwhelmed, in a state of near euphoria, and you knew that once Hotch’s fingers reached their destination—and they would in the next three seconds—that the barest graze of them was going to make you explode.

He stopped just short of his target. You whined against Emily’s lips and he laughed at you softly.

“I think she ought to earn this one… What do you think, Prentiss? Should we make her beg?” Hotch asked the other woman, he didn’t ask Reid because the poor man was barely holding it together and all of his focus was split between the nipple he was currently stimulating and not coming inside you without consent.

Emily—reluctantly—pulled her tongue out of your mouth and smirked down at you.

“Hmm, she was being a little bit of a tease a minute ago wasn’t she?” She made a show of looking very contemplative, all the while she continued toying with your other nipple. “Reid?”

She brought Spencer into the conversation—or she tried to.

“Busy.” He murmured against the skin of your breast as he continued his work there, he would not be distracted. You glanced down and saw that he had started marking your skin with hickeys.

You moaned at the sight and let your head fall back.

“You want me to beg, and I’ll beg. Just please don’t make him stop.” Your voice was heavy, rough and breathless. You were so incredibly close, your body was starting to shake, and you knew you’d come, whether they kept touching you or not.

They knew it too, but they also knew they could make it so much stronger… if you were good for them.

“It feels so good, huh, sweetheart?” Hotch asked, his tone slightly condescending. “If you ask nicely, we’ll give you what you need…”

His hand was still stalled on your lower abdomen less than an inch away from your clit. Emily was just barely teasing your nipple and while it seemed like Spencer was ignoring them, you knew he was giving you just enough to keep you on the edge. Sneaky.

However, you expected no less from him. He was a fast and visual learner, he had been watching closely when Hotch and Emily had been playing you like a fiddle. He could have had you screaming all on his own if he’d wanted to—you had no doubt about that— he’d just needed the confidence to get started.

Hotch and Emily had helped with that.

“I’ll be such a good girl if you let me come, Hotch, please…” You gave him the sexiest pout you could muster. His eyes seemed to darken—his hazel irises almost completely drowned out by his pupils—as they zoned in on your lips. “I’ll mind my manners and be so polite, I promise. Pretty please, make me come.”

Hotch was listening, and he had intended to make you beg more than this, but your lipstick smudged lips were just so alluring that he couldn’t focus on anything else at that moment. Remembering what they’d looked like wrapped around his cock several minutes earlier, he found his will rapidly dissolving, and all he really wanted was to watch the way those lips formed a perfect O when you came.

“I knew you’d sound so sweet begging…” He murmured, and his hand started to move again “Let us hear you, pretty girl. Loud and clear.”

“Yes sir.” You murmured confidently.

Emily chuckled and started sucking on your neck, you moaned… Then Hotch’s fingers—finally—found your clit.

You screamed.

Your vision went fuzzy and then white. Your head was buzzing and your body was nearly numb. You went limp and Spencer took over, fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging it. Emily’s hand had begun rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Good girl…” She cooed. “You look so pretty when you come.”

“Yes she does.” Hotch murmured, reaching over to where your head was resting on Spencer’s shoulder and brushing your hair away from your face. “So fucking pretty.”

You whimpered softly at the touch and he smiled tenderly at you. Your chest was heaving with hard-fought, ragged breaths. You were shaking, but your vision was slowly returning to normal.

“Are you alright?” Spencer whispered gently in your ear. His hands on your waist now, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fucking fantastic, Spence…” You murmured in return, shifting your weight slightly to sit up and kiss him. He squeezed your hips tightly.

“Please don’t move.” He hissed, pleadingly. “I can’t… I’m gonna… If you don’t get off it, I’m going to come inside you. I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

You froze, your lips just a centimeter from his.

“It’s okay… Don’t panic… They make pills for that, and I intend to take one anyway… I’m a little stuck at the moment though, my knees are too weak to get up.” You met his eyes, the panic in them was astounding. “Hotch, could you–”

The man's arms were already coming around your waist and he lifted you off of Spencer effortlessly, as the younger man bit his lip and hissed as if pained. Setting you on your feet softly, Hotch held you to his chest to keep you from falling to the floor.

“Didn’t you say you’d mind your manners and be polite if we let you come?” He asked, a hint of mischief in his voice.

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for a hint, a clue, anything to tell you what he was up to.

“Mm hmm…” You hummed in response, nodding at him.

“You made a mess Sweetheart…” He told you quietly, then took your chin in his hand and turned your face down to look at Spencer… Who was, in fact, a whimpering mess. “Clean it up.”

You licked your lips and smiled salaciously.

“Yes sir.” You murmured softly and got down on your knees at Spencer’s feet.

Reaching out and taking Spencer’s cock in your hand, you gave him a firm stroke. He moaned and his head fell back against the seat. So he didn’t see you coming when you lowered your head and took him in your mouth, all the way to the base.

“Oh fuck!” He yelped, you hummed in approval at his reaction, then you pulled back so that a manageable length was in your mouth. You put one hand on his thigh to brace yourself and create a little leverage, the other you wrapped around the rest of him. Slowly, you started to bob up and down, moving your hand in time with your head. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Spencer’s hands gripping the arms of the chair, his knuckles were white. That only spurred you on.

The taste of yourself on his cock was tantalizing, the tang of you mingling with the musk of him was something you never thought you would experience. This whole situation was something you never thought you’d experience. You’d considered it of course—more times than you could count— but it was only a fantasy, a daydream. Never had you once thought it might actually happen.

“She’s doing so well… don’t you think Hotch?” Emily’s voice purred on your right.

“Hmmm, I don’t know… she’s capable of more…” He hummed in response from the left, and a hand—that based on the size could only be his—palmed the curve of your ass. He gave it a squeeze and a playful smack and you moaned around Spence's cock. Spencer twitched in response.

“You think she can take more?” Emily asked him, her tone was nothing short of sinful and it made you shiver. Hotch’s following chuckle, however, went straight to your pussy, making you squeeze your thighs together. Suddenly, you were completely desperate again..

“I know she can.” He answered, with a confidence that made your toes curl. His voice tended to do that to you, but when he put that cocky, self assured, arrogant rasp behind it… Goddamn. It was the voice he used when he knew he had the upper hand, when he had an unsub completely caught up in a lie, a trap of their own making. The voice that made your knees weak and your thighs tighten. It went straight to your pussy every time, making it clench around nothing. “Why don’t you help her along?”

“I’d love to.” She purred.

Then Emily’s hand was in your hair, resting firmly on the back of your head.

“You heard him, Gorgeous…” she lilted provocatively as her hand grew heavier on your head, slowly pushing you down the lengthy expanse of Spencer’s cock, until your nose was touching the neat patch of hair at his base.

“Fuck, Angel…” Spencer groaned, his voice husky and strained. “I’m so close…”

You gave him a muffled little hum of approval and that was all he needed to fall over the edge. Spilling down your throat as he moaned loudly, his hands joined Emily’s in your hair and he held you there firmly until he was finished.

You swallowed as much as you could and then—when they released your head—you sucked and licked him clean.

“Thank you, Angel. That was… incredible.” Spencer murmured, reaching up to stroke your cheek tenderly with the back of his forefinger. You leaned into the touch and then gave him a sensuous smile as you climbed back up into his lap. You brought your lips to his before he could say another word and kissed him deeply, letting him taste the mixture of all the flavors that had accumulated on your tongue. It was by far the sweetest thing you’d ever tasted. He moaned into your mouth and you pulled back to smile at him.

“You are very. Very. Welcome.” You purred, punctuating each very with a gentle kiss and biting his bottom lip after welcome. “It was my pleasure…”

Hotch and Emily chuckled softly at your antics and you noticed that Em sounded a bit shaky. Then you realized she was the only one who hadn’t come at least once… you’d have to remedy that.

Hotch—astute as ever—immediately noticed when your eyes locked onto Emily’s form. He chuckled again, looking between you and her, then stood and helped her to her feet as well, guiding her to the space between you and the couch you both had started this whole thing on.

“You want Prentiss again, sweetheart?” He asked, his smirk letting you know he knew exactly what was on your mind. You simply nodded your head, never taking your eyes off her. “Hmm… What do you think, Emily? Has she earned the right to touch you yet?”

She smirked down at you, trying to maintain her slightly condescending attitude… but you could read her like a book, and she was so turned on she was struggling to breathe regularly. You smirked back at her and she raised a brow at you.

“I don’t know, she seems a little too cocky about it to me.” She answered him, only prolonging her own discomfort.

“Am I?” You murmured, giving her a teasing smile. “Take it from the boys, Em. I could rock your world…”

She laughed softly.

“I bet you could, but I wanna hear you beg for it…” She purred, grinning at you. “Tell me how much you want it.”

You started to get up and reach for her, to show her how much you wanted her… but she stepped back, bumping into Hotch’s chest. He steadied her without hesitation, his hands stayed planted firmly on her hips and to your surprise, Spencer gripped your own hips. Tugging you back down into his lap so that you now faced the others, he held you in place.

“She said tell her, Angel…” Spencer murmured, his breath tickling your ear. You were shocked at his sudden burst of dominance. Your eyes widened slightly and your lips parted in surprise.

Hotch chuckled and you studied the three of them carefully… they were all smiling at you, their eyes holding the same teasing light. It was as though they were waiting for you to notice something. You just didn’t know what.

“You don’t get to touch her yet, sweetheart… not until she gives you permission.” Hotch murmured teasingly. “You can look though…”

Then his hands slid around her waist to the front of her pants, and he began to unbuckle her belt.

“Oh fuck…” you whispered on a breathy sigh. This would be the death of you, you were sure. Your head tipped back as you looked to the ceiling, as though praying for patience or guidance—or perhaps salvation because you felt certifiably damned—but Spencer had other ideas.

“Don’t look away.” He instructed you, his voice low and commanding as he gripped your chin and made you look back at them. You’d never heard him speak with so much authority, and yet somehow it was still so soft that it was barely audible. “They’re doing this for you…”

Hotch continued his mission to rid Emily of her slacks by unbuttoning and then unzipping them. Then he slipped them down her legs and held her hand to steady her as she stepped out of them. She kept her heels on, now standing before you in just her button down blouse and undershirt.

Your brain was short circuiting.

“Please, Em… I need to touch you.” You murmured softly and she smirked at you, scarlet lips tipping up to one side.

“Not yet…” She taunted.

Hotch reached around her again and started to unbutton her blouse, his pace was agonizing. You noticed that he was careful not to touch her body at all, now that she was only half clothed, and his eyes were locked on you… not her.

They really were doing this just for you.

How they knew you’d find it hot to watch him undress her, you didn’t know, but it was working. They didn’t seem uncomfortable, no… they were enjoying themselves as they teased you mercilessly.

When he slid the blouse down her shoulders and it fell to the floor, you felt as though you couldn’t breathe. She was wearing that one red tank top that always made you drool.

“Emily…” you nearly whimpered. “Please…”

She looked smug as she shook her head, reveling in the shakiness of your voice. She knew what that tank top did to you…

“Do you want to see him take it off me?” She asked, sweet as sugar… in a saccharine kind of way.

“I’d rather do it myself…” you implored, giving her a pouty look.

Her breath hitched and you knew… you were going to win this one.

“But if I’m being totally honest… I have this… fantasy… of you, in this exact outfit. I want you just like this, you’ve always looked so sexy in red, Em.” You purred, and you can tell you’ve surprised her for once. She was speechless for a moment and Hotch smirked at you, his eyes showing his amusement at this little standoff between you and Emily. “You know you want me Emily… just give in.”

You licked your bottom lip subtly, then bit it, trying to tempt her by looking up at her as innocent as a lamb. She had spotted your ploy a mile away, seen it coming from the moment you said she looked sexy in red.

It still worked.

“I will.” She drawled sensually, her eyes tracing your body. “If you get on your hands and knees and crawl to me.”

She stepped away from Hotch and sat on the couch with her legs spread wide, revealing red lace panties that matched her red tank top.

“Fuck…” you breathed. “You win… you win Em… just… God, let me touch you… please.” You pleaded. “I fucking need you.”

“Crawl to me, Gorgeous.” She finally conceded, smiling at you triumphantly.

And you let her think she had the upper hand, as you slipped out of Spencer’s lap and to the floor, but you knew once you got your hands on her—your mouth on her—she’d be putty in them.

Hotch moved to Spencer’s side and leaned against the wall—to watch the show of course—and nodded at you encouragingly.

You took your time, crawling seductively across the cabin to her, using every inch of the space to taunt her. She devoured you with her eyes and when you got to her feet, picked her right one up and propped it on your shoulder. You planted soft kisses on the inside of her ankle, never breaking eye contact.

“I have dreams that start out just like this…” you murmured to her.

“So do I.” She admitted, her voice breathless and shaky.

“Mmm…” you hummed softly, then purred, “Then what happens?”

She laughed softly, trying to seem unaffected again, but it was much too late for that. You knew exactly what you were doing to her.

“What’s the matter, Em?” You teased, beginning to kiss your way up the inside of her leg. “Cat got your tongue?” She seemed to lose all semblance of composure and you giggled softly against her soft skin. “Don’t worry… I can figure it out. I’m very creative.”

The roles had been reversed, and you’d never felt more in control than in that moment, kneeling between her legs. You slid your hands up her thighs and around her hips, gripping her ass firmly and then pulled her to the edge of the couch in one smooth motion.

For better access of course.

She yelped in surprise and you chuckled against her skin, never checking up as you continued kissing your way up her leg. You’d made it to her inner thigh and she was trembling. You looked up at her from under your lashes and smirked.

“I like it when you’re vocal.” You teased her, repeating her words back to her and earning a soft laugh from Hotch in return.

Emily started to say something but you flatten your tongue against her pussy—through her panties—and she moaned instead.

You hummed at the sound, reveling in it and lapped at her clit enthusiastically. Not bothering to tease her at all, just diving right in—to shut her up and wipe the smug smile off her gorgeous lips—and showing her exactly how creative you could be with your tongue.

But that didn’t satisfy your hunger for her at all, no… you needed to taste her, without the lace that was currently barring you from doing it.

You gently moved her panties to the side and took in the sight of her, bare and wet—absolutely soaked—all for you.

“Oh Emily…” You purred. “You’re dripping for me… and such a pretty pussy too. I wonder if it tastes as delicious as it looks?”

You were dying for her to regain a little sentience.

Docile, desperately horny Em was cute… but you wanted her sassy, confident self to come back out to play. You puffed a hot, teasing breath over the supple skin of her pussy and slowly, so slowly, licked her from her slit all the way to her clit. You stopped just short of it though, teasing her entrance with your tongue instead.

“Stop teasing me before I change my mind.” She growled impatiently, her hand tangling in your hair and tipping your head back to make eye contact.

You smirked up at her, a bit defiantly, and said softly, “Ask me nicely…”

Her eyes narrowed slightly and her head tilted to the side just a fraction as she stared you down, she seemed to be contemplating her options here. She could either let you get away with that and actually say please, or she could do whatever just crossed her mind and made those beautiful onyx eyes flicker with heat.

“Please, stop teasing me.” She murmured softly, leaning down so that her lips brushed your cheek as she moved to whisper in your ear. “Or I will take care of this pretty pussy all by myself, and make you watch from Spencer’s lap.”

You chuckled, biting your bottom lip as you turned your head to look at her.

“Mmm, I love it when you’re bossy.” You murmured, your nose less than an inch from hers now.

“Do you?” She purred, leaning closer so her lips are hovering just over yours, sharing your every breath. You nodded, yes, and she grinned salaciously at you, moving closer so she could bite your bottom lip herself. “Then stop talking, and do something useful with that silver tongue instead.”

You felt your cheeks heat, whether it was embarrassment or arousal—or a mix of both—you weren’t certain. But you loved the way it felt.

“Yes ma’am.” You purred, your voice dripping with pure seduction.

You felt her hand vacate your hair and didn’t waste time. Leaning forward, you licked her cunt from bottom to top in one smooth motion. Your tongue—finally—delving in to taste her, before you buried yourself between her thighs and ate her pussy like you were starving. She was delectable. Her arousal like honey on your tongue, and she just kept getting wetter.

The more you explored and experimented with her, the more you learned.

For instance, if you suctioned your lips tightly around her clit and rolled your tongue in circles around it, she couldn’t help but squirm as she let out soft little moans. If you added two fingers, curling just slightly upwards, and used them to massage that spot—just past the ridge of her pubic bone—she bucked against you wildly. So you gripped her by her thighs and hoisted them up onto your shoulders, forcing her to lean back on the couch and spread herself wider for you. The new angle gave you more leverage with your fingers and allowed you to apply firmer pressure with your tongue.

She was putty in your hands, just as you knew she would be. Her ragged breaths and quiet whimpers were growing more and more desperate, her hands grappling for purchase on any part of you she could reach. You were unsurprised when they found your hair, threading into it and taking two fistfuls that had your scalp stinging delightfully. You moaned against her and then felt her walls start to flutter around your fingers.

“Don’t stop, don’t change anything, I’m so close!” She panted, her voice raw with desire.

You suppressed the urge to grin, needing to maintain the seal of your lips around her clit, the pressure of your tongue… but you couldn’t help feeling a little smug. Especially as she clamped down hard on your fingers, her thighs quivering and trying to close around your head. Her entire body went taunt, her back arching and her head falling back against the couch as she cried out, “Oh God!”

Only when her body fully relaxed and her grip loosened in your hair, did you allow yourself to smirk against her pussy and look up at her from under your lashes. She didn’t notice—too busy recovering from the mind blowing head you’d just given her—Hotch, however, did.

“Look at you, being all smug.” His voice ran up your spine like molten lava. You didn’t dare peek over at him, choosing instead to pepper Emily’s fevered skin with soft, barely there kisses. First over her inner thighs, then her lower stomach where her tank had ridden up nearly to her breasts. “Are you proud of yourself, Pretty Girl?”

Hotch’s hand perched softly at the nape of your neck, he squeezed gently but firmly. His hand slid down your back slowly, his finger slipping into your garter belt—the only item of clothing left on you—and snapping the elastic against your spine. You moaned softly at the sting and he chuckled softly. He began to guide the belt down your hips, over your ass and thighs, to your knees. Tapping each in silent command. You complied, lifting them one at a time so he could—finally—strip you completely bare. “Such a good girl…”

His murmured praise had you aching again as you continued your worshipful path of kisses up the plain of Emily’s belly. Not stopping when you reached her tank, instead starting to lift it over her head with her willing assistance. You tossed it to the floor and pushed her gently to her back, so that she was lying along the length of the couch. Climbing to settle between her legs again, you began to kiss her chest. Propping yourself up with one hand, you used the other to free her breasts from the cups of her bra, which—conveniently— clipped in the front. She moaned softly as your lips closed around one nipple and your free hand toyed with the other.

Warm breath on your pussy made it clench around nothing. Which made you keenly aware of the fact that you’d left your ass high in the air—and completely exposed. Strong hands gripped it firmly and tilted it up even further, positioning you exactly how their owner desired. “Stay just like this Sweetheart. I want to taste you while you take care of Emily.”

You moaned wantonly at Hotch’s order, spreading your legs a bit more for him. He smacked your ass, just hard enough to make a point. “I said stay still.”

“Yes sir.” You murmured seductively around Emily’s breast and he soothed the sting with a gentle kiss to the spot, just before he buried his face in your pussy. Groaning as he tasted you first hand, he gripped your ass with bruising strength and made you whine. “Fuck…”

He chuckled quietly to himself, his hand traveling down your ass and in between your legs. It wasted no time in finding its target. Your clit. He circled it so lightly, as though he thought it was delicate enough that any firmer touch would damage it.

The effect was maddening.

Emily’s hands found your breasts, toying with your nipples and bringing your attention partially back to her. You trailed your free hand down her stomach, finding her clit again with ease and began to move your finger over it ever so lightly. She whined quietly, and pressed up into your hand with her hips in a wordless request for more pressure.

“You need more, Em?” You asked softly, teasingly, as you kissed your way across her chest, up her neck, nipping her ear and finally hovered over her lips. “Hmm? Do you wanna taste yourself on my lips?”

“Shut up and kiss me.” She demanded, her hand wrapping around the back of your neck and tangling into your hair as she tugged you down to her lips.

The kiss was rough, frantic and heated. Emily was still grinding up into your hand—desperate for friction—so you had mercy and increased the pressure and speed of your hand.

Hotch’s tongue was still leisurely fucking into your pussy as his finger work your clit with precision. He kept making these self satisfied little groans in the back of his throat that were driving you crazy.

And then two more hands were touching you… Hotch’s hands were still on your ass and clit, Emily’s in your hair and toying with your breast…

But Spencer…

He’d been content to watch for a few minutes, but he couldn’t help himself any longer, he had to touch you.

He was tracing the lines of your ribs with one hand and your spine with the other, his touch light and inquisitive. You’d fantasized about him doing exactly this and you’d been right, it felt amazing. His hands on your skin anywhere would have been heavenly, but the way he was following each rib intentionally—reverently—reminded you of the way he traced each line when he was reading a book, the way his fingers skimmed over each vertebrae was making your back arch.

You pulled away from Emily to look up at him.

There was such adoration in his eyes as he studied the expanse of your skin. The hand at your ribs, going up to your shoulder blades and your collar bones. The one at your spine trailing down to the curve of your hip, over the rise of your ass and down the back of your thigh.

“Focus on Emily, Angel…” He murmured softly. “I just wanna touch you.”

You would do anything to have him keep touching you like that, so you redoubled your efforts on Emily. Sliding your fingers down from her clit to her cunt and slipping the middle two inside of her.

She moaned and you silenced it with a kiss, parting her lips with your tongue.

You rubbed her clit with your thumb while you worked her g-spot with the pads of your fingers and she started to squirm. She tried to close her legs but your knees were in the way and her thighs started to tremble.

“Give it to me, Emily…” You coaxed into her mouth, then bit her lip gently. “Let me have it, you can do it… come for me one more time…”

Her head fell back against the couch, so you dipped yours down and drew her nipple into your mouth, rolling it with your tongue. It was just enough to send her spiraling for the second time. A breathy cry falling from her lips as her pussy spasmed around your fingers.

All the stimulation—Hotch’s tongue and fingers, Emily’s cunt clenching around your fingers and her hands pulling your hair and squeezing your breast, and Spencer’s exploration of everywhere else—was nearly too much.

And then Hotch slipped two fingers inside of you… much thicker than Emily’s slender ones, and when he added a third… It was thicker that Spencer’s cock had been. Not as long, but with what he was doing… length didn’t matter.

You came hard. Your pussy clamping down on Hotch’s fingers so tightly you thought you could feel each knuckle and every callus. Your brain went completely offline and your thighs shook violently as your release ran down them.

Your knees gave out, and you collapsed against Emily with a moan. Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes. You laid there unable to move for several moments. Emily wasn’t moving either–except for her chest, which was heaving as she panted for air—so you were in no hurry to go anywhere. You gently slipped your fingers out of her and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

“Holy–” She gasped.

“--fuck!” You finished for her on a hard fought breath.

Spencer snickered softly as he stepped back to observe the mess of limbs the two of you were tangled up in.

Hotch chose that moment to pull his fingers out of you—making you flinch and whine—and then he moved to lean against the table adjacent to the couch to watch you and Emily untangle yourselves.

“You good, gorgeous?” Emily murmured after a moment, her hand running through your hair affectionately.

You nuzzled into her neck, nipping at her throat playfully.

“I’m great, Em.” You purred, twirling her hair around your finger and then giggled, “Why? You wanna go again?”

“Do you?” Hotch’s voice pulled your attention from the way the overhead light caught in Emily’s hair.

You looked up at him, and found him staring down at you with heated eyes…

And a bulge in his pants.

You swallowed thickly, the amount of times you’d thought about fucking Aaron Hotchner…

Your mouth was suddenly dry and your tongue felt heavy and you didn’t think you’d be able to say anything if you tried.

So you nodded your head, yes.

“Come here.” He murmured, his voice low and rough.

You gently untangled yourself from Emily—dropping one more kiss to her lips as you went—and she propped herself up on her elbows to watch you go.

The three steps it took for you to reach him were the longest three steps of your life. When you came to stop in front of him he wasted no time.

He held the back of your neck and drew you in, gently but firmly, then kissed you.

You could feel the tension in the plain of his chest, the barely restrained strength of his grip, and the quiet urgency with which he kissed your lips.

He was desperate… but he didn’t want to be rough with you…

Which would have been sweet…

If that wasn’t exactly what you wanted.

You bit his lip, tugging it between your teeth and then licking into his mouth like you needed to taste him as much as you needed oxygen. Then you slipped your hand down and gave his cock a firm squeeze through his slacks.

He groaned and pulled you back to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“Fuck me, like you own me.” You murmured, with much more confidence than you felt.

You saw in his eyes the exact moment his restraint snapped. It was like his whole demeanor did an about face.

The soft spoken, gentle—though slightly condescending and bossy—man that had been treating you with such tenderness and care…

He was gone.

You barely registered the movement, one moment you were standing up, asking him to fuck you…

And the next…

You were bent over the table he’d just been leaning on.

The sound of his zipper coming down made you clench around emptiness and then his hand was firmly planted in the center of your back. Holding you down on the table with an easy strength.

You felt the hard warmth of his cock at your entrance as he lined himself up, but he paused.

“You asked me to fuck you like I own you… are you sure you want that?” He asked again for consent. “I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.” You said clearly, with a surety in your tone that he could not mistake for anything but affirmation. “I just want you to fuck me.”

He didn’t answer you verbally.

Just slid his cock inside you, all the way to the base.

You cried out—hands clutching the edges of the table—-at the shock of it. You’d thought—surely—after coming three times, that you would be good and ready for him.

But he was… thick.

You couldn’t breathe, your lungs had ceased to function the moment he slid home.

Thicker than Spencer had been by a bit—though not as long—and you’d known that since you’d had both of them in your mouth. The way he was stretching you out though, it burned, it was a good burn… but you needed a moment to adjust.

He seemed to know that instinctually, and while he said he wouldn’t be gentle, he wasn’t going to hurt you purposefully either.

So as he bottomed out inside you he gave you a moment to sit with it.

“Breathe.” His voice was commanding, but strained.

You took a deep breath and he felt his hand on your back rise as your chest filled with air.

The burning eased, and you relaxed against the table.

“Good girl…” He murmured and then he started to move.

The stretch was amazing, the way he filled you up had your back arching and your hands white knuckling the table. Then he started to pick up the pace, his thrusts long and deep. Pulling almost completely out of you and then going so deep you saw spots.

You pushed back into him, trying to take him deeper—if that was even possible—urging him to go faster, harder. You wanted to feel him in your diaphragm—you knew that wasn’t possible, but you didn’t particularly care—wanted him slamming into you. Over and over and over…

He grabbed your wrists, pulling them behind your back and holding them in one hand while the other went back to your waist, with a bruising grip. Taking away every bit of leverage you had and giving himself total control of your body.

Then he pounded into you, hard and fast until your hips were bashing up against the table.

You didn’t even notice, because his cock was hitting you so perfectly with every sharp thrust.

“Hotch!” You keened his name, the loudest sound you’d made all night.

“Mmm keep talking to me, pretty girl, I love the way your voice sounds screaming my name.” His own voice sounded different from anything you’d ever heard from him. It was carnal and lust filled, and it had you clenching around him. “Fuck, if you keep squeezing me like that this isn’t gonna last very long, sweetheart.”

You could only moan in response.

There were hands in your hair, gathering it out of your face.

You hadn’t realized you’d closed your eyes, but when you opened them, Emily and Spencer were sitting side by side at the table you were bent over.

“She’s too quiet…” Emily purred, a truly wicked gleam in her eyes. “I don’t think you’re fucking her hard enough.”

Hotch chuckled, the sound ran up your spine and down your limbs until your whole body tingled.

“You think she can take it?” He asked her in return.

But it was Spencer who leaned down, his lips skimming your cheek as he murmured, “You can take it, can’t you Angel?”

“God yes!” You panted, trying to look back at Hotch, though it was nearly impossible to move at all with the way he was pinning you to the table. “I can take it!”

He pushed you back down flat on the table.

“You want it harder, Pretty Girl?” He asked and there was something in his tone… something lethal.

“Yes! Please!” You sobbed.

“Tell me how bad you want it, make it pretty for me sweetheart… I wanna hear you beg.” His grip on your waist got impossibly tighter.

“I don’t want it, I need it! It feels so good, Hotch, please! I’ll be so good! I’ll lie here and take it like a good girl! Just fuck me harder, please!” You pleaded, your voice cracking as he continued to fuck into you. “I need to feel you deeper!”

He groaned, letting go of your arms and taking ahold of your hair instead.

“God, I love to hear you beg…” He growled, pulling your head back so he could lean forward and whisper in your ear. “Hold on to the table, pretty girl. You’re gonna need it.”

You gripped the sides of the table as hard as you could, bracing yourself against it.

He railed into you so hard you couldn’t remember your own name, your hips slamming into the table. His balls were slapping your clit loud enough to be heard over the sound of your cries, which were spilling from your lips with every thrust.

They were unintelligible.

Not even you knew what you were saying, but it was clear what you meant.

Don’t. Fucking. Stop.

“Fuck, she looks so beautiful like this…” Emily groaned to Spencer. “Look at her.”

“I see her… she’s fucking perfect.” Spencer replied. “Watch, she’s getting close… she makes that face every time, right before she comes.”

You were, you were so wrapped up in the moment you hadn’t even felt it creeping up on you until he brought it to your attention.

“I can feel her pussy fluttering… fuck, she’s getting tighter.” Hotch sounded nearly pained. “Come on, sweetheart, let me have it. I wanna feel you come on my cock.”

Emily reached under the table and pressed on your clit.

Your vision went white, a dull roar—like the ocean—filled your ears, your knees buckled and only the table and Hotch’s grip kept you from hitting the floor.

Your throat burned, and you knew you must’ve screamed, but you couldn’t hear a thing.

Both his hands were on your hips now, squeezing like his life depended on, anchoring you firmly to himself.

And it was a good thing too, because you thought that otherwise you might’ve floated away.

Your body was numb, gravity meant nothing to you, neither did time, or space.

Just his hands on your hips and his cock still slamming into your pussy as he fucked you through it.

Your hearing was the first sense to return to you, and you thanked the universe and every deity you knew of—just to cover all your bases—that it did.

Because the sound of Aaron Hotchner coming was something you wanted branded into your memory.

“Fuck! Such a good girl, just like that baby!” He moaned, “You feel like heaven pretty girl! I’m- God- I’m about to come—“

He pulled out of you so abruptly that you whined at the loss.

But then there were warm, wet ropes landing on your back.

You moaned, you wished you could see it, though feeling it was something you’d never forget.

“Fuck.” Hotch panted, then patted your ass gently. “You did so good for me sweetheart. That was…”

You couldn’t seem to speak yet, and your vision was still fuzzy. Your limbs weren’t yet back under your control either. So you just laid there, panting.

“Angel, are you okay?” You heard Spencer’s sweet voice murmur, you could feel his lips near your ear.

And Emily’s hand in your hair, nails brushing against your scalp soothingly.

Hotch was stroking your thigh tenderly.

Then the strangest thing happened… you started to giggle… you couldn’t help it… nothing was funny.

You were just… happy?

Overwhelmed?

Incandescent?

“Is she laughing?” Hotch asked, confusion evident in his tone.

“It would seem so…” Spencer murmured. “I think—you might have broken her.”

“No…” Emily murmured, stroking your cheek, wiping away an errant tear. “She just needs a minute, she’s euphoric.”

There! That was the word you’d been looking for! Thank you Emily, you beautiful, sexy, sapphic goddess!

“I’m gonna get something to clean her up,” you heard Hotch murmur, “I’ll be right back.”

His footsteps retreated toward the bathroom.

You felt so heavy…

You just wanted to close your eyes and go to sleep.

A warm cloth touched your back, stroking up and down, cleaning up after Hotch’s release.

Voices were murmuring quietly around you, and then you felt someone—probably Hotch—lift you from the table.

You barely got your eyes open, just enough to look around.

Spencer was gathering all your clothes, you were resting on Hotch’s lap, Emily was digging in your go-bag—she pulled from it a pair of sweats and a t-shirt—then she brought them over and started dressing you.

You didn’t know at what point she had put her clothes back on… just that she was dressed.

Spencer put your discarded clothes into your go-bag and then he came back over to sit next to Hotch on the couch. He helped Emily get your arms—which were too heavy to move still—into the sleeves of your shirt.

When they had finished dressing you, Emily sat on Hotch’s other side. He gently lowered your head to her lap, and Spencer pulled your legs up into his.

“Are you sure she’s alright?” Spencer asked quietly.

“Mm hmm…” Emily hummed, stroking your hair tenderly. “She’s just exhausted… four times… is a lot.”

Hotch took your hand in his and kissed the back of it.

That was the last thing you felt before you fell asleep.

*Four Days Later*

You’d thought that it would be awkward…

Coming back to work after fucking three of your coworkers—one of whom is your boss—at the same time.

But it wasn’t.

It was exciting.

The four of you were all smiles when you looked at each other, secret smiles that no one else was aware of, and knowing glances had been passed back and forth all morning.

Hotch had accidentally brushed across your hips with the back of his hand when he’d passed you in the bullpen.

There was a bruise there from the table where he’d fucked you, and he knew it. He was reminding you on purpose.

Spencer had been glancing at your lips all morning, a soft pink flush coloring his cheeks each time. Likely remember how he’d come down your throat.

Now, at the round table, Emily squeezed your thigh once under the table. There was a bite mark there that hadn’t yet faded. One that she’d given you.

All their attention was making you feel a bit overheated, so you pulled your French pin from the pocket of your slacks and pinned your hair into a twist.

You noticed, after you’d done so, that Hotch was giving you a very smug look. You felt like there was something else behind it, other than the obvious, but you couldn’t figure out what.

Everyone was distracted, just waiting on the last of the team—Derek and Garcia—to straggle into the room. They’d made it to the door, but Derek was on crutches so they were taking their time and everyone was fine with that.

But then Derek stopped—right behind you—and laughed.

“You uh— you got a little somethin’ somethin’ on the back of your neck, there Lil’ Mama…” He teased.

You reached up to touch your neck, confused, you looked up at him.

“What?” You asked.

“Looks like somebody had a little fun this weekend.” He joked. “That’s a pretty interesting place for a hickey…”

You paled, then blushed, immediately pulling the pin out of your hair and letting it fall down your back to cover the mark.

“Morgan.” Hotch said quietly—to hide the amusement in his tone—his eyes flicking to you briefly over the top of the file he’d been pretending to read. “Leave her alone.”

Derek threw his hands up in surrender and kept making his way to his seat.

One half of the room moved on, assuming that Hotch had just scolded Morgan out of a need for professionalism, and was choosing to cut you some slack over a mark you clearly hadn’t known existed.

But the other half knew better.

Rossi—who had returned from his book tour just the night before—stood to pull out Derek’s chair for him and took one elbow, while Penelope took the other.

While they helped him get settled, you threw Hotch a scathing look.

Because the only one who had left marks on your neck, had been him.

He was already smirking back at you, smug as shit.

Emily and Spencer were biting their lips to keep from laughing and they didn’t dare make eye contact with each other, or they were going to lose it.

You just stared a hole through the smirking Unit Chief, silently berating him for leaving a mark where you couldn’t see it.

And the bastard winked at you.

Then he cleared his throat and you let your expression go blank as the others all came to attention.

he only scoffs and a smirk appears on his face, "you sure you don't want me to?"

he stopped, a chuckle leaving his lips as he watched you pout. he was as deep as he could go but he wasn’t moving so you rolled your hips into his, needing that pleasure.

fortunately for you, he wasn’t an evil man, just a dirty one so he went back to his last pace.

you moan and lay your head on your pillow, feeling his hands lightly touch your sides. this time he wasn’t stopping and let the sweet (dirty) nothings come out.

“you really sure?”

“you love when I breed you.”

“usually such a dirty girl.. you’d be begging for it..”

You whimpered into your pillow, feeling yourself clench against him while he pounded into you like there was no tomorrow. you looked behind you again, looking into his eyes and trying your hardest to sound truthful, "y-yeah I don't want you to- d-don't do it-“

"then how come your pussy is gripping me like you do want me to?" he teased, making you whimper yet again.

"shut up." you cried out, your eyes rolling back as he laughed, “that’s what I thought.”

“now tell me the truth baby, what do you want?” He hums and you fight back an eye roll.

you wanted to be stubborn. you wanted to fight it but in reality you knew that you both needed it. and have been craving it even more than usual.

it was like a game, or more like a ritual.

and you’d always play along.

“I hate you.” you mutter making him grin, “oh I’m sure you do.”

“tell me, you want me to fill you up again? need every drop inside you?” he coos and goes faster.

“n-no-“ you mumble, ignoring his words as best you could.

“you’re so annoying.” you complain, making him moan, “don’t say things like that baby, you’ll make me come faster.”

that got you.

your walls squeezed him like a vice and a beautiful mix of a moan and cry slipped out of your lips. he groaned and kept his pace the exact same — knowing exactly what you needed.

he lowered his body down, one hand on your left breast, lightly squeezing and the right going to your throat. with his hand now in its rightful place around your throat, he was able to lean his head against yours, kissing your cheek and whispering, “tell me how bad you need it baby.”

another whimper left your mouth and you looked at him with those cute fucked out eyes — your stare alone nearly enough to drive him over the edge, “please- please give it to me. f-fuck I need it so bad.”

“there you go baby, good fucking girl.” he murmurs and you felt yourself getting closer.

he loosened his hand on your throat a bit so you could say whatever you wanted to without fail. with every flying second his orgasm was just building up and he needed that release.

“fucking shit- baby please, please, please come inside me- please!” you plead making him groan.

hearing your sweet pleads and seeing your reactions drove him insane and far more feral than you imagined. the hand on your throat went back to gently squeezing and your eyes began to flutter, “taking it so good baby.”

you whined and nodding, not able to think or say anything. too out of it already.

after taking notice of this, miguel let out his final groans and he spilled his load inside you. his moans and thrusts didn’t stop so you were able to come around him and feel him pump you full. your hands went to his arm, squeezing as he let it go and pressed his lips to yours.

he kissed you softly, not wanting to give you something so overbearing after your orgasm. you were both out of breath so it was really just cute pecks while you both calmed down together.

he slowly slipped himself out of you and rolled over, laying down next to you. he opened up his arms and you moved up to lay on top of him.

he wrapped his arms around you, giving your head kisses, and running a hand up and down your back. you felt your heartbeat was now normal so you just made yourself comfortable and completely ignoring the mess that was spilling out of you.

this was the usual routine.

meanwhile, his free hand worked its way to his suit, pressing a button of his chemically bonded suit, quickly making him bare.

his cock already achingly hard—dark mauve tip glistening with precum, the veins that laced his length pulsating as all the blood in his body centered down south. he stroked it once, twice, before ripping your dampening panties to the side roughly.

slamming his cock deep inside you, making you cry out his name. your unprepared slick walls fluttering—shocked by the sensation and his girth.

“fuck,” he grunted. he didn’t let you get used to his throbbing cock as his hips snapped brutally, no mercy—each thrust making your ass ripple against his hips. balls slapping wet to your clit, causing your walls to tighten up around him even more.

you choke out incoherent words as the arm around your neck tightened. feeling dizzy as the oxygen and blood inside you start to deplete. fingers weakly clutching the cushions as you try to find something to hold on to—as if doing so can relieve the addicting pressure around your neck and lower stomach.

“fucking take it, baby,” he groaned against your ear. previous stress melting into pure lust and instinct, fucking you deeper and harder. his free hand now found the hem of his shirt that you’re wearing, yanking it up to let out your bouncing tits—pinching your hardened and sensitive nipple, making you drool out moans and spit into the headrest.

his pace now was downright feral as he heard you struggling to rasp out his name. too cockdrunk and head empty. only filled by the pleasure and how cock is practically hitting every spot inside your cunt deliciously. dragging in and out thoroughly.

you clenched harder when his fingers found your clit. middle finger perfectly circling the bundle of nerves, spreading his seed and your own all over your cunt.

“gonna come–” you gagged.

“come for me.”

his hips snapping harder—bullying your poor cunt and choking you tighter.

you pulse out—letting out the most blinding orgasm. walls clamping him down like a vice, body jolting in his arms as you let out the most erotic cry he’s ever heard.

“fuck–! such a fucking tight pussy–” he moaned, pumping relentlessly till he found his own climax. cum spilling deep inside you, painting your walls white.

he kept fucking you through your orgasms. eventually unwrapping the arm around you and slowing down just the slightest before finally pulling out his cock.

the image in front of him was a sight to behold. his seeds drooling out of your fluttering hole, his t-shirt sticking all over from the sweat, body still trembling and hips jolting, and mumbling out incoherent words.

“can’t even speak?” he scoffed. his own chest heaving as he calmed down from what just happened.

you glanced back at him, a small and weak smile on your face.

“can you do that more often?”

a/n: inspired by this art @kryptidfiles sent me 🫦 ty jae for making want to write this. also this was something i wrote in between the peter fic. let's just pray i can get that done soon.